[RoSM: Clan Naga Sadow - Team Keibatsu]
Phase I objectives
‘‘Phase I begins on October 14th and ends on October 28th (two (2) weeks)’’
After intercepting a transmission from the now destroyed Brotherhood Listener ship, the Psi Termina I, your team has been hand-picked and sent on a mission. You are already boarded on the Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser Akan, arriving in an Imperial boarding craft through the auxiliary starboard hangar, only several decks below your target. The Akan’s hyperdrives and major systems have been disabled by ion cannons from escorting ships and a battle still rages outside.
The ship’s power fluctuates with every blow from turbo lasers and ion cannons and you have limited time to complete your mission. The Collective regiment typically onboard is currently deployed, but ship security is fully staffed and some elements of the regiment may still be onboard. Intel expects Soldiers and Partisans onboard.
Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):
Revenge path: Reach the main bridge, face and eliminate Captain Brith Kayle and extract valuable information from the computer core before the fleet destroys the ship.
Sabotage path: Reach the primary computer core behind the main bridge, extract the information and set the ship to self-destruct before extracting.
Pacifist path: Reach the primary environmental controls on the main bridge, pacify the whole ship with Stun gas before extracting data from the computer core and calling in the cavalry.
Caution: the Captain is accompanied by an unknown number of enemy combatants.
The Phase must end with the bridge secured and the ship either pacified or destroyed. In all but the Revenge path, the Captain’s fate is up to you.
Auxiliary Starboard Hangar
Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruiser Akan
They slipped from the boarding craft in silence. Or near enough, anyway. The cacophony of the battle that raged just a few meters outside the hull made enough noise even without the wailing klaxons.
Ashia glanced in Muz’s direction, calmly sweeping a few strands of auburn hair away from her eyes. Muz simply nodded, turning his gaze to his cousin first. Shimura smiled, a predatory grin that washed over his face with the crimson light that spilled from his blade. He ducked and bolted, nimble feet taking him around the ship quickly, the snare hiss of his blade charring through whatever security forces were on detail reaching their ears in a moment’s time.
Kojiro spun one of his blasters in his hand, re-holstering the Westar and drawing out his datapad in one fluid movement, calling up the details of this class of ship. “Bridge is a few decks above us. Nearest turbolifts are…”
Muz looked up, the sabers behind his warcoat dropping with a thought, stopping short of the floor and seething in front of him. They held there for a moment before spilling their golden light across his helmet, then darting to the ceiling. He watched them, his head tilted to the side slightly as his will commanded them. He stepped a few paces to the side almost casually, a movement echoed by Ashia and Kojiro alike moments before the deep plate of decking fell with a loud thud, edges still glowing from the sabers that slowly returned to Muz’s belt.
“…Or…” Koji had to be smirking beneath his helmet. They were nothing if not efficient.
“The way out is through.” Shimura came to a stop in front of them, a tinge of carbon smoke coming from his outer cloak. He looked at it sideways before shrugging it off, spinning his saber back into the ready position and stepping onto the plate. “Just like old times, eh?”
Ashia stepped onto the fallen bit of ceiling with him. “Not that badly, I should hope.” Koji flipped the datapad back to his belt, drawing out the second Westar as he joined the other two, nodding at Muz a moment before he wrapped his mind around the thick chunk of metal, lifting it toward its original spot. He crouched, dropping a knee to the plate as they rose, blasters covering his side as the sound of igniting sabers came from Ashia’s side and Shimura spun his blade.
Kojiro wasn’t enjoying this. He always felt cramped in space, felt restricted without his jetpack and more recently without the feel of earth beneath his feet. Then surrounded by these people, all wielding the Force and wielding sabers…he felt weak. The clone let out a sigh as he took a knee and sighted along the dual Westars that sat like old friends in the palms of his hands. The klaxons had all but deafened him and it took all his ability to simply pick out the words being uttered around him. There was, however, no mistaking the sound that followed once the family had made it into the corridor above them.
Blaster fire descended upon them like a pack of hungry beasts. It lashed and tore and as it did so the Keibatsu responded in kind. Crimson sabers danced in the dim lights, blaster bolts ricocheted from both blade and walls causing the Clone to pick his targets in the maelstrom of light. He twisted his lower body, pivoting slightly before firing off a double shot. The blaster bolts flew under Ashia’s left arm and found their mark in the torso and neck of one of the collective aggressors dropping him. Unable to hear himself over the noise he activated his internal communication system.
“I owe these freaks some payback for the presents they gave me,” the feel of the collective cybernetics grafted to him brought bile to his throat. “But we can’t afford to be bogged down here.”
The telepathic thought entered his mind in response to his comments. The clone gestured toward the strongest concentration of collective soldiers. The ones in front of Shimura.
“There. At least four corridors down.”
There was no other response. Instead, like a force of nature Shimura moved. It wasn’t a rush like the wind, more akin to the slow steady pace of an avalanche. Kojiro pushed himself up and followed his cousin. Blasters unleashing their own crimson hail. Muz brought up the rear guard whilst his beloved caught any bolts that snuck past Shimura. They were making progress towards their objective, slow progress but progress is what mattered. That progress began to slow further as the family had to fight and defend themselves as they started to step upon the bodies of the Collective that had already been gunned down. Ashia moved to block a bolt that got through Shimura’s defences and was going for the back of her husband’s head. She made the block but caught her foot in the rifle strap of a fallen foe. Kojro stooped and shoulder barged her into the wall of the corridor without missing a beat, keeping her upright even if momentarily dazed.
Finally the corridor they were in widened up and their enemy had fallen progressively further back. However, the corridor had only widened for it to turn into a T-junction and their two-way conflict gave way into a three-way. A Keibatsu blocked each entrance as they moved across it, Kojro doing his best to assist everyone but he was reaching his limit.
“We need to pick up the pace or we’ll be cut down. We need to clear the way ahead a lot quicker then we are.”
Muz gave a simple order and the two cousins backpedalled enough before timing their turnabouts. Kojiro had to almost dance between the two, due to the space constraints, as they carried out their manoeuvre. It took the Clone a few moments to realise the point but then he heard it. The crackling doom as the head of the Keibatsu unleashed a torrent of Force lightning down the corridor. It had the desired effect as it danced across the Collective soldiers and pushed those out of reach further back. The family moved and put the junction behind them.
“I really hate this place,” Kojiro muttered to no one in particular as he struggled to keep up with the rest of his kin.
Charred flesh and singed textiles filled Shimura’s nose. It had been far too long since he got to enjoy combat with his cousins. Shimura dropped his guard and flicked off the lightsaber by his side. The Force Lightning that crackled from the Patriarch’s fingers awed Shimura, he knew nothing would be alive on the receiving end of that blast.
His elder cousin’s voice boomed within his skull. “We have no time to let this scum slow us down. It won’t be long before the ship will be destroyed, along with us.”
The dispatched squad laid at their feet as they moved over them and down the corridor. Yells from behind, muffled but close could be heard. The Keibatsu all whirled around to see a quintet of Collective soldiers wielding Z6 riot control batons.
Ashia’s tender voiced filled his head this time. “We all know how Shimura likes to make his opponents his playthings.” Ashia looked over her shoulder to her cousin. She smiled at him and he returned the gesture with a grim, twisted smile of his own. Shimura’s 6’9” frame pushed past his family with ease toward the soldiers, igniting a single blade of his crimson saber. He didn’t waste the effort to telepathically respond to his kin.
“Go. I’ll cover our six.”
Shimura broke into a trot towards the Collective. His opponents accepted the challenge and burst into a run of their own. The Zabrak picked up speed quickly before he was in a full sprint of his own. Mere seconds felt like a lifetime. Multiple scenarios ran through his head with different possible outcomes. He chose what he thought would be the best one.
Collision was imminent. The soldier at the head of the group decided to meet a hammer with a hammer. A strong two handed overhead swing started coming down at the Keibatsu. Shimura responded by instinct, surging the Force through his legs, picking up enough speed to make him substantially quicker. He planted his left boot into the durasteel plated floor with a thud before striking out with his right foot. His boot caught the unaware soldier square in the chest with a sickening crunch. The point man had the air forcefully expelled from his lungs and thrown back into his comrades.
“Rookie.” Shimura grunted.
The other four did their best avoid their gasping friend. The two in the front managed to avoid him while the two in the back were knocked from their feet. One chopped down at his left knee while the other swung high at his right shoulder. Shimura stepped forward, parrying the attack at his knee while retaliating with a vicious right cross. The Battlemaster managed to step inside the swing at his shoulder and responded in kind with a headbutt, cracking open the soldiers nose in a fountain of gore. The man clawed at his ruined face as he fell backwards, the other obviously had his bell rung and was seeing stars.
The two in the back had managed get to their feet and into a ready stance, edging towards the Sith. Ever so slowly Shimura back peddled away, allowing the soldiers to put themselves between their newly injured mates and himself. Broken Jaw and Smash Nose were pulling themselves up and falling in behind their friends. With almost preternatural speed Shimura launched himself forward into a roll that left him standing in the center of the four soldiers.
“Individually, you’re not much. Let’s see if you can live up to your name.” The Keibatsu said in a low, gravelly voice.
Shimura’s nimble steps floated across the floor as he whirled about, intercepting blow after blow from the quintet. He parried each attack artfully giving each time to recover just enough to make them think they were doing well.
Two of them attacked from either side, the Zabrak quickly dropped to one knee, forcing the two men to collide over him. A quick snap hiss erupted as a crimson glow filled the corridor. Shimura lifted his dual saber over his head and swung it deftly, cutting through both men and ending their attacks abruptly.
The Keibatsu got to his feet and looked at his handy work. The other two men were limping away as quickly as they could.
Shimura smiled as the smell of seared flesh filled his nostrils. Content with his work, he moved quickly down the corridor to catch up to the family.
Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruiser Akan
The shipped rocked with another explosion as the battle ragged outside. Muz’s golden saber dropped from his side and cemented itself into the durasteel door. An auriferous glow mingled with the crimson from the molten metal as it seared through it.
It didn’t take long for the former Grand Master to gain entry onto the bridge. Warning alarms sounded continuously as several people looked up from their consoles in terror as he entered; the blood draining from their faces as they saw the Lion of Tarthos for the first time.
Two guards advanced on him quickly only for him to lift a gloved hand. Suddenly they were hoisted into the air. An audible crunch and their necks were broken; their lifeless bodies tossed aside like rag dolls.
A Rodian that had been standing near one of the consoles took a slight step back, a fearful look crossing his glistening eyes. Kojiro flipped open his datapad and looked back at the green scaly being in front of them.
“That’s him, Captain Brith Kayle.” He flipped the datapad closed.
His large purple eyes blink at them nervously, “You can try to take me, but please know an elite fire team has already been dispatched and…”
“You mean the four guys I took out in the corridor? Yeah, they won’t be helping you any time soon. A couple of them seem to be a bit…divided at the moment.” A smirk crossed Shimura’s face.
“Besides,” Ashia added. “who said we were taking you?” She moved deftly in towards the main computer console.
Brith stepped in to intercept her only to be flung backwards off his feet and slam into a wall. The Nightsister’s outstretched hand lowered as she continued to search the computer for the intel they were after. She never turned her head.
“Found it!” Ashia exclaimed. She began to extract the information they were there to get.
Kayle got to his feet shaking his head and spewing forth venomous swears in Rodian. He took a few steps forward, eyes burning with hate.
Kojiro took several large steps across the bridge towards him. “I’ve had about enough of your kind.”
There was blood in his eyes. He felt it pulsing, the heat on his cheeks, the throb in his head as each step grew closer. Every memory replayed in his mind, bits of his brothers raining down on him after an explosion. The rickety walk of men who did not yet realize they were dying from blaster fire. Seeing his own face staring up at him, eyes lifeless, caked in mud and blood on the battlefield. Seeing bits of himself burned away and replaced with no reason beyond to see if they could. The hollow words, preaching about cages being broken, while they built another around him.
His blaster was at the Rodian’s temple, his finger slowly squeezing.
He shook it off, buried the impulse behind gritted teeth and reached down, hefting the captain up by his collar, holstering his blaster and pulling his own helmet off so that he could see him, eye to eye. Fingers twitched in his left side, the electric hum vibrating parts of his nerves in ways his missing arm never could. He knew he never had much, being born a clone, nothing but his number and what glory he could claim for himself. Not anymore. Now, he had a name. Purpose.
And the Collective tried to take that from him, just like they took everything away from so many others. He looked at him, his voice brittle.
“Let me break your cage.”
He rained his fists down upon him. Heavy armor, the durable metal of prosthetic pummeled the man down. A rising knee caught the edge of one of his eyes, the armor there drawing a brutal gash through one of the compound eyes.
He fell into him, dropping his weight into his elbow as he brought it into the Rodian’s throat, his sucker-tipped fingers too preoccupied with his eyes to be able to defend against the man.
A fleck of spit flew from his mouth as he bellowed, birthing his emotion out, the ichor that passed as the Rodian’s blood coating him as he brutalized his foe. He slammed his head into the Rodian, raw rage burning through his veins like wildfire.
Kojiro brought his fists back up, driving them into the soft flesh at the Rodian’s throat, the wet meaty sounds garbling through the thin lips infuriating him even more.
Copper tainted his mouth as he headbutted the Rodian again, his rattling teeth having caught the tip of his tongue. He spat it out, the blood dripping down the ruined face. It took Kojiro a moment to realize that the Rodian wasn’t moving. He brought his head up slowly, the fire in his veins burning his ears as he felt something wet at the sides of his face, looking up from the battered creature before him. Turning, he saw Muz, his arm still up between Shimura and where he stood, a moment frozen in time, something that Kojiro needed desperately to do on his own, even if he did not know it.
A shudder came from within, and he pushed it away, foreign and frightening. He looked back down, seeing the faint movement of the Rodian’s chest.
Kojiro didn’t know this emotion. There was no word for it that he knew.
“But you feel it.” The words were simple as Muz stepped forward, reaching a hand down to help him up. Kojiro took his arm, pulling himself up to his feet. “And that is important.”
Kojiro nodded as his hand drew his blaster, his mind wrapped around the trigger as much as his blood soaked finger.
He didn’t watch Kayle die.
He didn’t have to.
This Phase lasts from October 29th until November the 11th (two (2) weeks)
Request from the organizers: Please add a note to the top of the next post which path your team will choose in this Phase. Thank you.
Phase II objectives
Your team left the dreadnought Akan with information that, together with the data analysed by Clans and the Inquisitorius, has lead your to the Meridian Prime space station, a fortress, correctional facility and space dock floating in interstellar space just off the Wild Space boundary. Already under attack by Clan and Dark Council forces, dogfights light up the blackness around the behemoth, and intel suggests the shields and defenses have not yet been weakened enough for a full-scale naval assault. The station is on full alert and firefights have already started as skirmishes between Collective troops and Brotherhood assault teams pepper its three massive hangar bays.
The station houses civilian and enemy personnel, including a correctional facility that holds hundreds of Brotherhood prisoners of war, both Non-Force users and Force users alike. The prison has an isolated security system, its own power generator and life-support. Intel suggests that the prison is managed by a powerful AI (artificial intelligence) controlling the Dioxis security system, many defense blaster turrets, ray shields and a large complement of Imperial Sentry Droids acting as guards, controlled by the prison warden. The interior of the prison itself is pumped with a thin mist of Dioxis gas, preventing escape and anarchy.
You have been dropped off on the lower decks via boarding pod.
Breath masks are provided for this mission, should your team require them. Any Possessions item that prevents inhaling of poisonous gas will be effective as well.
Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):
Revenge path: Reach the correctional facility and eliminate prison warden Rutgar-4. Caution is advised as there are Imperial Sentry Droids defending him.
Sabotage path: Reach the prison’s AI core to recycle the life support and free the prisoners. Prepare for a riot as many prisoners are powerful Force Users and Non-Force Users.
Pacifist path: Reach the prison’s AI core and disable the security systems to allow incoming Brotherhood troops to secure the facility.
The phase must end with the prison facility secured, one way or another. In all but the Revenge path, the prison warden’s fate is up to you.
Relevant character sheets:
The modified boarding craft shuddered as it gently brushed against the Merdian Prime space station. A mechanized thunk reverberated through the pod, caused by the magnetic docking system that attached itself to the space station. Kojiro rapidly tapped a few buttons on the wall screen nearest to him, causing the door to release a hydraulic hiss as it opened. A tiny seal at the edge of the pod’s door is the only thing that kept the Keibatsu from being sucked into space through a quarter inch gap. The gruesome thought unsettled Shimura.
Caught unaware of how deep he was in his own thoughts, he was brought back to the present as a tiny flickering being erupted from the cybernetic palm of the Grand Master. Consul Bentre Stahoes was easily recognized as the figure standing in the middle of the holoprojector.
“Grand Master,” Stahoes said with respect, “I see your approach was successful, unlike many of the other boarding parties.”
Shimura and Ashia shot each other a look. Her voice filled his head. Other boarding parties? I thought this was a solo mission? Shimura shrugged nonchalantly before looking at Kojiro. He was unphased, staring ahead at the maintenance hatch. Or at least he looked unphased, Shimura noticed him flicking the safety of his Westar on, then back off again. The Battlemaster brushed it off and looked back to holoprojector as it began speaking again.
“The Inquisitorius has ordered Naga Sadow to create a…” The Consul let the statement trail off as he thought of the proper words, “distraction while the other teams complete their objective. And don’t forget to use the rebreathers. The Collective traced the air with dioxis to prevent breakouts.”
“Consider them distracted.” Muz replied before shutting of the holoprojector and attaching it to his belt. The Keibatsu slid a breath mask over their face, Muz’s cybernetic arm pointed at the hatch. “Breach.”
“Reply. I thought you’d never ask master.” Hekate chimed in from the back as he leveled his blaster at the hatch.
“NOT YOU!” Shimured yelled as he slapped the barrel down. “Anyone but you.”
A muffle came from underneath Kojiro’s helm as Flick, his ID10 seeker droid whirled from his back as it approached the keypad attached to the hatch’s door.
Thump Thump Thump
Kojiro’s head rang and ever since the incident upon the dreadnaught his body had refused to stop shivering yet he was warm. Images kept flashing through his mind and it took all his power to stop himself screaming. Yet voices had begun to whisper in his ear and he wasn’t sure if they were from his own mind or some outside force. The Clone shook his head and watched as Flick worked on the door. The droid gave a few beeps of satisfaction and a snap-hiss indicated the door had been breached.
The Quaestor said nothing and simply moved, the doid nestling back in its groove, out into the corridor. Both blasters had found their ways to his hands and as he made his way into the open he clocked three droids to his right and another to the left. Blaster fire echoed from his weapons, striking two of the droids in their torsos. Another two shots took them down but by then the others had turned their full attention to the Clone and opened fire. At first, Kojiro didn’t move but something forced him too and he felt himself hit the wall and monetarily fall to the ground.
The Lion of Tarthos strode from the hatch they had breached and set upon the foe with a calm ferocity. Ashia and Shimura exited soon after and within moments the small resistance they faced was nothing more than scrap upon the floor. Shimura approached the newest Keibatsu and held out his hand, Kojiro didn’t take it instead he pushed himself up and moving off to the side. He felt the Lion look at him but neither man said anything out loud, instead, Muz moved off towards their destination with the rest of the family falling into step.
They continued down the corridor, encountering only a few droid patrols here and there. But nothing major came upon them until they rounded a bend and found themselves face to face with a large hangar type room. Muz who had been leading flung out his arm and caused the family to stop in their tracks. Row upon row of sentry droids reached before them.
“Well this isn’t good,” Shimura muttered. “That’s the quickest way through. Any ideas? Oi Kojiro you even with us?”
The Quaestor looked up, he had wandered partly down the corridor away from the rest. His head was still ringing and as he turned to gaze at his cousin he felt a coldness creep over his skin.
“Sure,” he muttered loud enough to be heard. “Heads not right, hasn’t been since the incident aboard the dreadnaught. I’m fine though.”
The Clone moved back to join the others and took a peek at the droids arrayed before them. Collective machines created for the sole purpose of war. A phantom ache crept through his cybernetics and he clenched his fist.
Isn’t that what I am now?
He felt a hand upon his shoulder as he felt the thought intrude and he looked at Muz as the other man simply shook his head.
His head swung toward the Nightsister, her eyes narrowing in response. As she faded from view, the shimmer that took her place twisted away from them, a slow ghost crossing beyond the corner, slinking away like a mirage over hot sands. Muz turned back to Kojiro, his head tilting slightly in question.
“I’m good.” He checked his blasters absentmindedly, then nodded.
Shimura chuckled, twisting his saber in his hands. He had seen this plan in action before, and it never failed to amuse. But it had been a while. Muz looked up at him, the black of his helmet reflective enough to see the breath mask that he wore across the bottom of his tattooed face.
Try to keep up.
Sabers dropped behind his warcoat, seized by invisible hands, hovering behind and to the sides of him, idly spinning as they awaited the next step. A deft thumb released the catch on the holster at his side before sliding over and filling his hands with his favorite weapons.
There was a loud sound, the heavy sound of hull hitting duraplate decking, followed by sirens and the spray of pressurized gasses. Shimura crept his head around the corner, watching the security droids all turn in unison.
Her voice was slightly deeper as it crept across their minds. Everyone’s was, considering the nature of telepathy and how people heard their own voice inside their heads. There was a sound that followed, gravel and deep, definitely Muz, but unintelligible as his sabers roared to life, the golden blades screaming forward with Shimura and the blasts from Kojiro’s weapons.
The calm metronome that had been beating in his ears was a wardrum, a pattern for his strokes. Shimura’s weapon was a scythe, singing ruinous music across the heavy plating of the droid, drinking deep in its mechanical viscera before he leapt to the next one. A heavy boot crapked into this ones wrist, the cone of fire directed at another droid before it could stop the firing sequence. Shimura laughed at the smell of it before driving his own blade into its chest.
Kojiro bolted forward, darting between crates and whatever else he could possibly use for cover, the blasters shouting obnoxiously as he squeezed the triggers as if to say ‘look at me, over here’. It was an old pattern for him, used to being used as the distraction. Inside his helmet, an eyebrow raised, his mind gelling around the fact that this time, he really wasn’t. It was the transport that Ashia knocked loose of the clamp that was the distraction this time. It was the huge Zabrak with whirling blades ahead of him this time. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t expendable. None of them were. He gritted his teeth, focusing his mind, blasting apart droid after droid before they could corner Shimura.
The clatter of parts falling to the floor surrounded Shimura, his eyes turning to see the golden blades as they carved through the droids, desperately trying to fire at the small targets, blaster fire spraying wildly. The beat grew louder and Shimura bounded backwards, his saber flicking away a blast that sought his head.
It was not a wardrum in his head. It was footsteps.
Muz did not break stride, the caged violence of his sabers spinning at erratic angles as he waded into the fray. His blades moved like lightning, faster than what his eyes could track at times, but he moved with a slow grace, as though he knew exactly where everyone would be, exactly what everyone was doing. There was no rage, not hatred, only efficiency. He was a marauder, and this was his battlefield.
There was no time to watch, although Shimura made a note that he would very much like some instruction later on, when they weren’t surrounded by things bent on their destruction. They carved their way through their ranks, blades and bolts searing through the mass as if this was hardly a challenge, despite the heavier plating.
Their numbers winnowed, Shimura took his time with the last droid in front of him, an old HK model as opposed to the Imperial Sentries they had been wrecking. He stalked it with heavy footfalls, swinging his blade with crude brutality, wondering if somehow he could make the droid fear. He felt something from this one, a twinge of something…alive. Shimura smiled. This was no droid. It raised a grenade-launcher, the telltale click of impending mayhem making him reach out with the force, seeking a way to avoid the weapon’s blast. Finally. A challenge.
Leave any for me?
The lightburst of a silver beam erupted from its chest, clanking to the ground to reveal Ashia’s form. Nevermind, found one.
That one was mine. Shimura groused in silence. The Nightsister’s eyes smiled above her breath mask as her only response. Muz came to a stop between them, tilting his head at the ruined droid on the ground.
“Core’s ahead.” Kojiro pointed with one of his blasters at an airlock across the hangar. “Prison blocks between here and there. Keep your masks on, for sure. We’re going in hot.” He marched forward, blasters up and at the ready, Shimura directly beside him. Ashia turned, letting her eyes slide over her husband as her mind did.
And how exactly are we to reprogram the core?
She wished she could see his face beneath the helmet.
“The same way that you got the docking clamps to drop the shuttle back there.” Koji answered aloud, covering the angles as they breached the long hallway, rows of transparasteel cells on each side, a thin nauseating mist floating through the middle of the corridor, clinging to the walls ominously.
“I literally sliced it.” Her eyes smiled again. “With my saber.” She stepped behind them, absentmindedly holding a hand to her mask. “Good thing, too, as it fell on one of those autoturrets.”
“Yeah, pretty sure that won’t work on a computer.” Koji came to an abrupt halt at the end of the hall, motioning to the others to be prepared for whatever lay beyond that door. He raised a middle finger from his blaster, punching in the command to open.
It took him three seconds to blast the technicians in the room. Koji was over the desk and shoving the dying Pantoran out of the way in five. Another thirty seconds and he was ready to punch it, drawing his fist back in frustration and menace.
“Have you tried turning it off, then turning it back on again?” Shimura let out a muffled chuckle.
Koji lifted his head, wobbling it in mockery, but then froze. “That…might actually…” He tapped at the screen furiously. “A system reboot would likely cause a atmospheric cycling.” The electronic chirps from his console were buried beneath the heavy sound of fans starting to blow, filtration systems engaging, purging the toxic failsafe from the prison corridors.
Shimura tapped his hilt against his arm. “That was a little bit…”
Ashia twisted her neck at him. “Don’t karking say it.”
Shimura shrugged. “Still, there has to be more security than that.”
Muz stepped toward Kojiro and the console, the pale light of the screen bouncing off of his helmet. Ashia stepped quickly behind him, eyes darting to the screen. “Maybe…let the prisoners out, and have them deal with our light work?”
“Yeah problem with that, this is a prison. They aren’t going to make it so that the cells are all going to open on their own.”
Muz reached out a finger, pressing a single button marked ‘fire control’. Moments later, the wailing of a thousand alarms throughout the station began to fill their ears. Confusion set in between them, turning to the wall of security feeds, flashing with the beacons of fire alarms.
“Now what?” Shimura snarled. “Aside from the headache?”
Muz raised a finger. Oligard was a vengeful man. A hateful man. If he had his way, they would not have bothered to keep so many prisoners. He would have liked the idea of watching his enemies believe they were freed, only to have them die to the gas. Alternately to the Technocrats, these were valuable subjects for their experiments, too valuable to be purged by fire. Either way, the doors would open.
They watched as the gates slid open a crack, the holos showing confused prisoners all backing away from the door, fearful of the gas that had already been removed, fearing an obvious trap. It wasn’t long until a few brave ones found the courage to step into the corridors, the battle cries starting out slowly, raising into a roar they could hear above the alarms.
Beneath his helmet, Muz smiled.
This Phase lasts from November 12th until November the 19th (one (1) week)
Request from the organizers: Please add a note to the top of the next post which path your team will choose in this Phase. Thank you.
Phase III objectives
The Brotherhood advances. What started as sporadic fighting in the major hangar bays of Meridian has turned into an all-out battle on all decks. Spurred by your team’s success in the prison, your Clan forces have come to support you and issue new orders for your team.
Daggo Mouk, one of the leaders of the Collective and the Guildmaster of the Technocratic Guild, has been confirmed on the station. With him he has a potent Technocratic Artifact that, if whisked away, would threaten the position of the Brotherhood in future engagements.
Daggo’s last known position was in the command center, however we have been having trouble following his movements. Wherever he is on the station, he would not leave the artifact unattended. The return of the artifact to Brotherhood hands is of absolute strategic value.
Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):
Revenge path: Confront and eliminate Daggo Mouk. Have no mercy.
Sabotage path: Sabotage the Collective’s future plans by stealing the artifact by any means necessary.
Pacifist path: Capture Daggo Mouk for interrogation and trial.
The phase must end with the artifact retrieved. Daggo’s fate is open-ended and up to you.
Relevant character sheets:
Chaos erupted all over the station as hundreds of prisoners fled their cells. Explosions and blaster fire echoed up and down the corridors.
Muz lifted his cybernetic hand as the image of Consul Stahoes once again filled it.
“Grand Master, we have new intel. It seems the Collective was harboring more then just Brotherhood prisoners on this station. The Guildmaster of the Technocratic Guild , Daggo Mouk, has been…experimenting on prisoners. Some of the inhabitants are dangerous.”
Ashia glanced in Kojiro’s direction for his reaction to this. The Clone shifted his weight for a brief moment but appeared otherwise unaffected.
Bentre continued, “It is also known that Daggo has a valuable artifact in his position; one that could pose a considerable threat to the Brotherhood. Our orders are to retrieve this artifact and eliminate Mouk. His last known position was in the command center.”
As the Consul’s imaged faded, Kojiro was already typing into his datapad.
“The command center is …here.” Kojiro pointed it out on his map as he shook his head. “It’ll be hard to get to.
Muz wasted no time, the durasteel doors hissed as they opened. The rest of the family followed him out into the fray.
Fights had broken out all over the place. Several prisoners would gang up against two or three others. Some were trying to keep their heads down and find a way out.
The Grand Master strode through the middle of the conflict swiftly; a sea of people parting in his wake. A flash of recognition was caught by numerous people as they backed away; some even falling in step behind the family, hoping to find a way out and recognizing the former Grand Master.
The Keibatsu made their way to the opposite side with few complications. Most of the prisoners were too busy fighting each other to notice them much at all. The rest noticed others moving away from them so chose not to engage.
They moved cautiously out and through the corridors. The sounds of blasters erupted periodically causing them to pause momentarily before moving on.
As they rounded a corner they came face to face with four Imperial Sentry Droids.
Muz’s sabers dropped from behind him and rose in the air as the droids opened fire. The blades danced through the air deflecting every bolt.
The droids started to advance. The one closest to Ashia suddenly lifted into the air and was pulled apart, reducing it to nothing more then scrap. The Proconsul smiled a little but it soon faded.
The rest kept coming.
The sound in the corridor was deafening as blaster fire after blaster fire exploded all around them. The few prisoners that had followed them out, had turned back the way they’d come, not looking for another fight.
Muz took a step forward. The other three droids lifted into the air and collided with each other, collapsing in a messy heap. Muz turned his head towards his wife. She could feel the smirk cross his lips even though she couldn’t see it.
The elder Keibatsu’s sabers returned to his side as they continued on their path.
Kojiro examined his datapad as they kept moving.
“There! Turbo lifts.” He pointed forwards with his blaster.
Shimura pressed the button but nothing happened. He drove one end of his saber through the durasteel doors, red hot metal melted away as he created a large hole.
An empty cavern greeted them, as the turbo lifts where no where to be found.
Muz looked up and could see the next level. Then he turned and looked at Ashia.
She stuck her head through the hole Shimura had made and looked up too. Then she shook her head as she stepped back.
It’s the only way. His words echoed in her mind. Shimura chuckled at the idea.
The Nightsister sighed then stepped through the hole onto the ledge. Muz knelt down and clasped his hands together. She put her foot into his hands and balanced herself holding onto his broad shoulders.
She looked up, gauging where she would land. Once she had it she took a deep breath and nodded to him.
The Grand Master lifted her up and threw her straight up into the turbolift shaft to the next floor, a bout of energy pushing her higher then was normally possible as he pushed the Force behind her. The nimble Keibatsu shot straight up and landed on the tiny ledge of the next floor. Igniting her saber, she bore a hole through the sealed door and crawled through.
“All right, now what?” Ashia muttered to herself as her eyes acclimated to the darkness. The corridor had to be some sort of access walkway, with thick bundles of conduits and wiring framing it. She raised her saber, letting the silver light illuminate her way. Turning back, she saw the problem. The access panel had been locked out, a small tag hanging on the panel with a maintenance code attached. She chuckled to herself before introducing the tip of her saber to the lock. The bits fell to the ground with a clatter, and her fingers engaged the switch, reactivating the lift. Idly, she imagined some worker getting sheared in half by the descending lift as she watched the lift push downward to the rest of her family.
A moment later, the lift brought the rest of them to her level, the narrow walkway cramped as they maneuvered forward. “Any idea where we are, exactly?”
Koji waved a pistol at the writing on the wall, Aurebesh letters spelling out ‘Concourse 3’. “Maintenance access.” He pulled out the datapad, accessing the floorplan. “Looks like this may take us pretty close to where we are headed.”
“Well, it’s not going to drop down through their ceiling, if that is what you are asking. This is not a Holo.” Koji laughed at the thought. “Their security would be pretty fierce, if they have half a mind, which we have seen that they do.”
They pressed forward, through the narrows, twisting as it led them deeper and deeper into the core, following the blinking path on Koji’s datapad. Finally, Koji’s hand came up in a fist, the silent signal to hold as he crouched down. Outstretched fingers felt along the wall, gloved fingertips searching for the edges of an access panel. Shimura groaned, stepping past Ashia and tapping the soldier on the shoulder.
“May I?” Shimura waited until he was out of the way, then pressed the emitter of his saber to the wall, thumb sliding over the activation stud before he drew the line of redhot slag around to make a small doorway.
“Forward and down to the left, should be the central hub.” Kojiro spoke, trading the datapad for his other blaster pistol, ducking through the ad hoc entry after the stooping Zabrak. They found mayhem on the other side, three soldiers that had not expected any interlopers to come at them sideways, interrupting their duty as they tried to clear the way to their Guildmaster’s shuttle.
The echoes of blaster fire and the scream of lightsaber blades tearing metal apart bounced back through the hole before Ashia and Muz could even slip through, their eyes adjusting to the light as the last of the forces fell. Shimura snarled at the ease of it, turning down the hall with ferocity. Koji bounded up, running quickly to keep up with the man as he tore down the corridor.
There was a trickle in the back of his mind, a whisper in a god’s voice. Muz stopped, dead in his tracks, letting it play out in his head.
He saw the pressure plate, saw the laser, saw the Ithorian standing behind the desk, baiting the trap with his own body. He saw the explosion, the vicious fire that would rocket from the walls to tear them apart. Muz turned his head, sharing the vision, much as he could, with the others. Shim skidded to a halt, his boots sliding on the decking as Koji brought his blasters back up, training them down the hallway, into the room at the center of the maze. They saw movement, tempting them forward.
Muz stepped up behind them, tilting his head at the traps, at the fact that they were not being fired at. He let the saber fly from his hand, the crimson blade seeking the wiring harnesses that held the explosives in place, cutting the triggering mechanisms from their intended uses.
“Daggo Mouk.” Muz stepped forward, the saber flying back to his hand, the blade sounding almost angry as he moved. The Ithorian came into view, stepping out from behind a console in the room, a glint of metal at his eye.
“Scum.” The word came out sloppily, a language not easily spoken by the alien’s strange vocal cords. He straightened up as best he could, bringing himself up to his full height, raising a blaster pistol with one of his artificial arms. Muz stepped forward, fingers rising from his saber as he reached out with the invisible hand. The blast erupted from the blaster and froze there, hanging in midair right where it had exited the weapon. Daggo blinked, not sure he was seeing it right before he felt that arm wrenched forward with the flick of the Lion’s wrist. The frozen plasma met the metal of his pistol, tearing it apart and sending a small cloud of smoke into the air. Daggo sneered, turning to run, but found himself stuck, somehow, the stress at his back pulling at his nerves as the sound of shearing and crushing metal filled his ears.
Daggo looked sideways, hearing the sound of energized kyber grow closer. The Lion took deliberate steps toward him, fingers still aimed at him as he felt the prosthetics failing at his back. The Ithorian cursed, the complex vexations of his mother tongue rolling from his mouths as he tried to release himself from his own contraption. He felt along the side of his torso, looking for the release catch, fingers darting desperately.
The blade that caught his hand also drank deep of his chest. He looked with his only remaining eye, seeing the violet as it sank deeper into him, the wound simultaneously hot and chilling as he felt it reach into his depths. He shuddered as he fell, dropping to one knee, and sliding against the wall. Muz drew the weapon sideways, drawing the blade through the front of the Guild Master to free it.
Daggo touched a button at his throat, the subtle alarm chirping twice before the distress alarms activated through the Center. “Until…every chain…”
“Die already.” Muz flicked his wrist, his blade separating the Ithorian’s head from the rest of him.
Reaching out with his mind, he found what it was they were there for, the crystalline matrix and coruscating light somehow less obvious than the way it boomed in his senses. nodding at Ashia, she stepped quickly past him to pick the artifact up as the sounds of boots echoed down the hallway toward them.
“Sounds like we have friends coming.” Koji muttered, checking his blasters as he found himself a bit of cover in the room.
Shimura laughed, spinning the saber in his hands. “You know what we call this?”
“A target rich environment?” Ashia smiled, her sabers springing to life. “Just like old times, eh?”
“Hopefully not that bad.” Muz chuckled.