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HoloTracker: Include (1) Character's In-Game Name, (2) Faction, and (3) Location
The fight for the world of Bandomeer has begun. With the Republic Defense Fleet missing it's primary commander: Admiral Oren Karus in response to the ongoing invasion of Alderaan. Imperial forces lead by a collective of Sith and Imperial masterminds have launched a surprise attack on the planet. Catching the Republic Defenders off-guard with their numbers and firepower. Yet, it does not mean the battle is truly won - For the Republic Orbital Defense Station has come online, and the Defense Fleet has mobilized to take on their sworn that is the Sith Empire. However, invading Imperial Forces have activated a beacon; calling in all patriots of the Empire to take part in the siege... While a strike team is prepared over one of the nearby moons to deploy and take the Republic Station.
Prompt: Have your character or forces engage the Republic Defense Fleet in: Starfighter Dogfights, Capital/Frigate Broadsidings, or even Boarding Party Assaults. All Republic Enemies in this story are considered 'Non-Essential' and 'Non-Player' controlled. So all targets but the Orbital Station are killable.
((This thread will be open for replies till the 26th.))
Shortly prior to contact...
On the bridge of the R.S.S. Golden Spire, Vice-Admiral Harusin Dess overwatched the steady traffic of civilian and military vessels coming and going from the world of Bandomeer. All had appeared normal. Another dull day, but one that was welcomed. Compared to the past few decades of war - A slow day, was a good day. The Twi'lek Naval Commander allowed a sigh of relief to pass through his lips, bringing a hand up to gently rub his brow - Thinking of the bolt he dodged when Admiral Karus left him in charge in overseeing the planet's defenses - Rather than reliving the horrors of Alderaan for a -third- time.
Today was a good day. He thought to himself. Taking in the distant stars, and the planet's unique land mass. Only to be pulled back to reality as one of the Bridge Hand Ensigns called for his attention.
"Admiral Dess... Admiral Dess! We've picked up an approaching vessel from hyperspace, it's one of ours. The Yulis. They appear to be transmitting an emergency distress signal..." Informed the Iridonian female, whom now had the Twi'lek looking over her shoulder, squinting.
"The Yulis was apart of the Admiral's escort.. Patch it through." Dess commanded, keeping his tone dialed as to not cause alarm.
"Patching them through your terminal, Sir."
Dess wrapped one of his azule tinted lekkus around his neck as he approached the main holo-terminal. Hand flicking up to punch the acceptance of the message. What followed was a gargle of static, rhythmic pings, code.. Yulis worked on deciphering the coded message; Only to look up past the viewport of his Valor's Bridge to see the very Thranta-class frigate pull itself from hyperspace. Now adrift, and revealing several stacks of smoke spewing from the hull. Critical condition.
Several of the ensigns and deck members stood up from their seats to catch a better view of the vessel, all except for the Iridonian Ensign. For long range scanners began to pick up more frequencies and transponders... That did not belong to the Republic.
Dess turned sharply, throwing out his hand to one of the communication officers: "Put us on threat level Besh, scramble the fleet and bring in the Yulis and it's survivors!" The Officer saluted and quickly rushed over to echo the commands of Dess over the Fleet's communication channels. Dess turned back to observe the Yulis in drift as several emergency responder ships deployed from the Orbital Station, but was brought back around as the Ensign began to raise her voice over the white noise produced by the crew rushing to work.
"Sir, I'm reading multiple vessels about to come out of hyperspace- Sir, I thin-" Before the Ensign could finish, the vessel's alarms began to blare. Simultaneously, Dess had finally realized what the Yulis was trying to communicate.
"RAISE THREAT LEVEL TO AUREK! I REPEAT! AUREK! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" Dess boomed - Just in time for him to turn and catch the sight of multiple Imperial warships ripping out of hyperspace. An advanced Harrower model leading the charge, and ramming through the defenseless Yulis; Tearing the Thranta in half as a wall of green turbolaser fire began to splash against the Republic fleet from the Imperial Invaders.
Following the Thranta through hyperspace, along with several other ships, was the Obsolescence, an Imperial Terminus-class Destroyer, commanded by Admiral Razieen, one of Darth Shyr's trusted fleet commanders. The Obsolescence was retrofitted with extra hanger space for additional starfighters, making the Destroyer itself little more than a starship carrier with a couple big guns. The white haired Human stood at the front viewport, but had his eyes closed in thought. The Yulis was fleeing, but this time there will be no mercy from the Empire. Not for the Yulis, and not for the Republic.
"Admiral," began a subordinate officer "we're about to leave hyperspace."
"Order all batteries to fire and prepare all fighters to launch!" he commanded without looking away from the viewport. Soon the space in front of him would be chaotic.
After about fifteen seconds, the space around them returned to normal as they dropped out and the first view Admiral Razieen saw was the Yulis torn asunder by the massive Harrower. A sadistic grin curled up from his lips. A beautiful Bandomeer sitting off in the corner, unprepared for the carnage that awaited it.
It was time. The time had finally come -- renewed conquest upon the Republic. As soon as the majority of the Imperial warships materialises from the warping nature of Hyperspace and into the breach, so does yet another flotilla.
The endless ebon sea swirls as a smaller Terminus-class cruiser, coupled with it's two other escorts --the lumbering Gage-class ships made their presences known, skimming across debris -- no doubt left behind by the initial forey and the empty recesses of space.
The authoritarian caped figure sinply stood on the bridge, her lips curling up in absolutely anticipation for the ongoing naval action, only simply uttering an authoritative order. "Scramble all fighters and launch when ready. Formation Besh-Two-Four."
At the moment, the flotilla would content in remaining on the fringe of the battle and seconds after, threads of jet trails were seen -- left behind by the thrumming red engines of Imperial starfighters on intercept course, clearly the way for a series of azure orbs smashing against a lone Thranta.
As the Imperial warships arrive in the Bandomeer system and fighters begin to scramble, Lord Ravvok punches in the access codes in the cockpit of his Fury-class interceptor. The Sith Lord takes a moment to re-familiarize himself with the vessel's viewport before connecting to the Imperial fleet's communication channel: it had been awhile since he'd flown in combat like this. As he jumps out of hyperspace, he witnesses it firsthand: the Republic defense fleet had been completely caught off-guard by the Imperial assault and seems to be reeling. Ravvok engages the thrusters, joining up with a wing of fighters nearby. "Unknown Fury-class, please identify.
You are not a part of our squadron-" a voice says through a communication line before Ravvok swiftly cuts the woman off. "This is Lord Ravvok. I'll be joining you on your excursion per orders of Imperial Forward Command" he responds. The line stays clear for a moment before the voice speaks again: "Apologies, my lord. Our orders were a bit outdated. Forming up now on your six." The squadron reorganizes itself into formation behind the Sith Lord before another voice sounds off on the line. "Good to serve with you again my lord. Technical Sergeant Oraskin, Battle of Corellia" another pilot, male this time, said with a thick Imperial accent. "You're continued service is commendable, Sergeant. Let's make sure the Republic never wants to come back to Bandomeer again" Ravvok responds, inspiring a bit of a warcry on the squadron's tactical line as the fighter wing flies into the fray of battle.
The excited, nervous tension hung thick in the air as the roiling mass of hyperspace reflected brightly onto the bridge of the starship. It permeated every soul on the vessel but none more so than its pilot, Lieutenant Hadrian Rykin. Or, Flight Lieutenant in this case. What lay beyond that shimmering twist in space-time was so much more than a battle; it was a future made bright for the Empire by the combined efforts of those bold enough to fight for it.
There was a familiar lurch as hyperspace peeled away, ripping aside the veil of light to reveal the final death throes of the Yulis. Hadrian felt a ripple of breath pass through the small bridge, as they all witnessed its fiery demise. The Lieutenant was only the second to recover from the breath-taking sight, though he knew better than anyone how difficult it was to rattle the Chiss who had recovered his composure first.
The instruments on the bridge alerted him to the positions of the other Imperial vessels in the fleet, those newly arriving as part of the same force Hadrian’s vessel was in, and those in the vanguard that had fired upon the Yulis. A patriotic sense of pride filled Hadrian, as a mental image of the Imperial fleet formed in his mind. Dozens and dozens of ships, both big and small, descending on the Republic forces with a strength that had been stripped of them by the Eternal Empire. Now, the Empire reigned strong again. No matter what he thought of engaging in open war, Hadrian’s heart swelled as the fleet descended on the Republic defences.
Hadrian felt Khal’iis’ hand on his shoulder, almost from a distance, as his brain fired into gear, his hands dancing across the starship’s controls. Shields were primed, power diverted largely to the engines as systems made irrelevant by their exit from hyperspace were shut down. His preparations were all sequential, each process following another with a steadiness that was practically instinctive.
Dogfighting would be the real challenge, and it was one fast approaching, though Hadrian had no intention of getting trapped in a back-and-forth with the smaller, nimbler Republic starfighters. His orders demanded otherwise, and like any good Imperial they were his priority. Too far away for the naked eye to see, particularly in the void of space, Hadrian knew the mass of Republic fighters were surging forward to meet the Imperial horde. It would be only moments before that first mighty clash.
“Our intel was good. Lock in on the Defiant.” Hadrian shot to Hoshe, his co-pilot who was a man that seemed far too young to look as ascetic as he did, “Focus on working the shields, but keep our power draw as balanced as you can. Overload the shield generator and we’ll be gone too fast to be missed.” Hoshe nodded rigidly, and Hadrian wondered briefly if he knew how to move any other way.
Alerts blipped across the consoles on the bridge as bright flashes and explosions flared in the distance, signalling the almighty clash of fighters had begun. Khal’iis’ hand on Hadrian’s shoulder gripped tighter, and Hadrian risked a quick second to take one hand from the controls and grasp it reassuringly. He couldn’t spare the time needed to sign to the Chiss; instead he spoke directly into a communications channel linked to the Chiss’ visor. “I’m taking us in. You’d better get everyone strapped in. Hoshe will alert you with any updates.” Hadrian wished there was time for a more appropriate way to speak to his partner, or at least a more meaningful way to give voice to the complex thoughts and feelings he held around going into battle with Khal’iis, but professionalism and his own confusion defeated that prospect soundly. “Good luck, keep safe.” Hadrian concluded lamely.
He felt more than saw the Chiss’ presence leave the cockpit, taking a piece of Hadrian’s heart with it. He would not dwell on that. Now was the time for action. Their orders were to skirt the majority of the dogfighting and close in on the Defiant, landing a strike team of engineers that would disable the capital ship’s critical systems. Easier said than done, on both counts.
The fray descended on them all too quickly, and suddenly the cockpit was alive with dancing, flickering lights and fierce reams of fire as explosions and blaster fire snuffed out life after life. Hadrian led his vessel in a twisting corkscrew above the fighting, though even that simple manoeuvre caught the ire of several fighters. Hadrian pitched the vessel first one way, then another, executing the occasional barrel roll with practiced efficiency as the fighters squealed after them. The Imperial fighters were overwhelming in number, however, and the Republic pursuers were picked off cleanly without ever landing a scratch.
“Good work Hoshe, keep it up.” The young co-pilot was proving remarkably adept at angling the shields and balancing power levels. It lifted a huge weight off Hadrian’s shoulders, even more so when an Imperial squadron formed up behind his starship. “Wing-Commander Myrus to Imperial vessel 6Q-RTX. Our orders are to cover your approach to the Defiant. Give ‘em hell Lieutenant.” Hadrian smiled tightly. He’d asked for support on his approach, but it had been anyone’s guess as to whether he’d receive it. It seemed the Empire had come through for him once more. “Acknowledged Commander Myrus. Match my velocity, and prepare to engage enemy fighters.”
The Defiant was below them now, and Hadrian led the fighters in a steep dive. Betraying the disorganised panic of the defenders, the Republic vessel was almost too late in scrambling a volley of fighters to intercept Myrus’ squadron. Hadrian broke off as the two squadrons clashed, spiralling downward amid a haze of cannon fire that took huge amounts of power for their shields to absorb or deflect. It was all Hadrian could do to avoid what turbolaser fire he could, but he took pride in knowing a lesser pilot would never have made it so far.
“Almost there Hoshe, keep us steady!” Hadrian shouted, his hands flying across the bridge controls at a speed common only to those with plenty of frantic experience. He could feel the ship straining under his control, engine whining as it strove to meet the demands Hadrian made of it. Then, suddenly, the blinding web of turbolaser fire cleared, cannons swinging away to track the tiny specks of Myrus’ ships, and the hangar was only mere seconds away.
“All hands brace for landing!” Hadrian shouted into the ship’s comm, wrenching the controls hard and dramatically reducing the ship’s speed as they dropped into the hangar. The landing gear scraped across the hangar bay floor as all around them, alarms began to blare.
The ships around Bandomeer were firing upon one another; fighters burnt up, frigates, and cruisers slowly drifted into the orbit around the planet. The Empire was striking the throat of the enemy, a quick sucker punch before more assaults on other worlds were to come. The Three ships dropped out of hyperspace, the large Keizar-Volvec, Insidious Reach accompanied by the medium sized Two Oblivio-class Heavy Frigates, Banished Zealot and Rapturous Storm. A weary Lord and his two personal soldiers arriving in the fields of battle to shed the blood of the enemy.
Feroxus sat in the cockpit of his personal Fury-Interceptor, Wraith's Hand, the holo-conference call had started and Feroxus saw his three subordinates. His Trandoshan Captain, Raz’ac, stood at about 6’4, his skin was a sage with a creamy accent, his uniform was more or less battle armor from his former mercenary company, dressed up and painted with Imperial colors he had been handpicked by the Darth as one of the faces of his power base. His Second Lieutenant Varsus, his protege and clan brethren, was only 5’5 and thin bodied, sun-baked skin and the bright orange eyes along with the raven black hair showed he was akin to Feroxus, his horns were sharp though small,-recently sharpened- his prowess with tactics, and baiting his enemies into an intricate death allowed him his position. Finally his First Lieutenant, Xand Levix, a human male from Bespin who had served multiple tours on Alderaan, as well as on Illum, and Belsavis. He had a dark complexion, with thick curly hair and a set of dark green eyes. He was still young, but as of now, he would be acting captain of the ship, and most likely the permanent one if he held true through this battle.
Feroxus cleared his throat before he began to speak. “Raz’ac, we are going to use battle formation, Aurek-Viper-14. The Banished Zealot and Rapturous Storm, will be flanking the Valor class cruiser and its three patrol cruisers looming over the asteroid field, while Insidious Reach, hits the targets with its long range cannons and ion cannons, I'll lead squadrons, Aurek, Forn, and Grek to provide support. Any questions gentlemen?”
“Milord? Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to enjoy the battle from your flagship? It would be much safer than flying around in your Interceptor.” Xand asked, before looking over the reports. “I understand your faith in the new Lamprey gunships but, the Republic forces have always been on par with our own.”
“Brother, why do we put up with this slimy innco-”
“That is enough! If our Lord declares he will be in the fray so be it. We shall beat the enemies like a drum.” Raz’ac hissed before bowing to Feroxus. “For glory.”
Feroxus chuckled as the three images winked out before the ship began to come to life. Feroxus flicked a few switches and made a soft grunt before he began to pilot his ship out of Insidious Reach. Trailing shortly behind him were four dozen ships that were akin to a sea dwelling creatures.
The Banished Zealot and Rapturous Storm moved in swiftly, both hailing hell upon the smaller cruisers, as much as they attempted to evade the bombardment, they fell one by one.Like a pair of twin arrowheads, they were converging on the Valor Cruiser. The Republic warship was not only surrounded but it was being swarmed by the 49 ships. The gunships were able to easily fend off any fighters and divert any bombers away from the Frigates, while Feroxus ensured the bombers were decimated.
The Valor was crippled in a matter of minutes, just as Bandomeer would be in a matter of days.
(example of the Oblivio-Heavy Frigates, still writing up stats for them but here is how I imagine them)
With the main Imperial Forces pouring in from the dimensions of hyperspace; Several key-commanding vessels jumped and anchored themselves from a greater distance of the battle. Manuevering into the asteroid field surrounding the resource rich planet. The field would not only act as cover from the Republic Fleet, but from the eyes of the other combatants now entering the fray. One such vessel acting as the head of the great serpent that were the Imperial Forces: The I.S.S. Repentance, another modified Harrower sub-class warship. It's hulking frame settled within a pocket of space between the asteroids and debris of mining probes with ease. Granting it's occupants a great vantage point of the ongoing battle.
Imperial Command Staff attached to the vessel, and its owner's powerbase shuffled about the bridge. Activating holo-emitters for those that were present on their own vessels so they may participate, or currently engaging the field of war. While others begin displaying holo-simulations of various strategies to initiate against the Republic's defenses. Models of both friend and foe alike showcasing their systems. If it were not the seasoned Imperial Naval Commanders speaking and tearing at each other's -ideas- it was analyst and chief engineers of the vessels. Variables changing with new allies and possible rivals arriving. Everything had to be considered. Everything.
However, the dull static of voices began to silence themselves; For the main bulkhead doors opened and allowed the long shadow of a Dark Lord to cast down the hall of the bridge. Only the technological garble of holograms, terminals, and the few droids on deck filled in the silence~ Along with the rhythmic 'click' of the Sith's cane falling on the chrome durasteel floor. When he arrived before his Imperial Followers and Adviser, bows of respect were traded, and dismissed by the Sith. With one final click of the cane, the silence was broken...
"Report." Commanded the Sith.
"M'lord, all is progressing as planned. Your, -invitation- has reached many within the Empire, and those even outside the expected have arrived to support the retaking of Bandomeer."
"Additionally, our troop transports have yet to come underfire by the Republic. They merely await for your signal."
The Sith brought a hand up to gently rub the smooth metallic chin piece of his mask, listening as the words of the Imperial Commanders fall upon his ears. Cold steel tinted eyes washing over the holo-display of the planet and ongoing battle. "Status of the Second Wave?" Came his query, producing the voice of another Imperial to answer.
"They're awaiting your orders, m'lord."
Silence fell upon the group once more as their Sith Overseer thought in contemplation. Only for him to nod once. Never turning his eyes off the map. The rest merely played out as intended. All hands scrambling to their stations as one of the Imperials turned to approach a holocommunicator terminal - Producing the image of another Imperial of rank.
"Deploy the Reaper!"
The battle had long became a standstill due to the Orbital Station's activation, allowing the once panic stricken Republic Fleet to reorganize and face the horde of the Empire's advance. However, as a sanctioned Strike Team of Imperial Heroes fought their way to the bridge deck to finally take control of the Republic's greatest asset in this battle - Another pawn of the Empire was put into play. A call for a tactical retreat was broadcasted across the Imperial channels, not one that called for defeat, but to distance themselves from the Republic Fleet. It's reason would soon come to light...
On board the R.S.S. Golden Spire...
Vice Admiral Dess continued his best to micro-manage the numbers of his fleet to the best of his abilities, while still attempting to relay command and firing solutions to the Orbital Station. It was much, but fighting and surviving in three consecutive wars made one nimble in this field when placed under pressure. But by the Force, if they didn't get reinforcements soon - It wouldn't matter how much effort he exerted, they -will- be overwhelmed. The Twi'lek fired his eyes up to see the R.S.S. Gallant come underfire by an approaching Harrower; The same one that had rammed into, and still retain pieces of the Yulis scraped along it's hull. He made peace with the possibility of losing the Gallant and her crew, but as he did so, a flash of bright fire and plasma off the adjacent side caught his attention - The Twin Thrantas had succeeded in bringing down one of the Imperial Warships. Progress and Hope - Only to realize... The Imperial vessels and attending allies had begun to cease their fire and double back. Was the vessel the one that held their commander? Did his bluff finally take affect? It wasn't until the muffled calls of the Iridonian Ensign did he come back.
Sir! Multiple reports are coming from the Defiant and Station One- They've been boarded sir!
Dess turns back to the retreating ships, the station, and back to the Ensign.
Why are they retreating... But haven't pulled their boarders? Something doesn't add u-
The Bastion and Deliverance are pursuing sir! They're breaking formation! Suddenly, the two Thranta classes that assisted in the destruction of the previous Harrower begin to chase after the Yulis Killer as it and it's Terminus escorts turned to fall back towards the asteroid field. Dess threw out his hand to one of the com officers aboard.
Call them back! Call! Them! Back! It can be an am- Sirens cut off the Vice Admiral...
Friend and Foe alike would detect a massive object was about to eject itself from hyperspace, and land flat in the middle of the two fleets. Navigational equipment blared warnings of immanent collision; Yet it did not come. Instead, after both fleets parted - With the Bastion and Deliverance smack in the middle of the projected 'landing-zone' of the vessel... A mighty vessel of Imperial design tore the breach of hyperspace and divided the two fleets from one another. Following in it's wake two more warships with their own pairs of escorts.
The two pursuing Republic vessels had little time to act; For the I.S.S. Reaper and it's row of offensive turbolasers began to belt out wave after wave of new found power. Pounding away at point-blank range left their already depleted shields to nothing but a distant reminder, as the hull was torn into. Major systems were crippled, and the frigates began to be torn asunder. What wasn't caught by them, and the debris field, belted into the Fleet. Tearing into those that were softened by the previous assault of the Imperial Fleet and Allies.
By the gods... Dess and the crew of the R.S.S Golden Fire soon found themselves under the direct attention of the newly arrived Reaper. It wasn't long before the Valor's main hull was slowly peeled off by the heavy turbolaser fire, and swarm of torpedoes being released by the Reaper's assault. Matters only grew worse, for soon the Republic Fleet lost it's support from the Orbital Station - The Strike Team had completed their task, and now what once proved to be their greatest asset, became their new found nightmare. With the combined efforts of the now Imperial Occupied station and Reaper; The remaining Republic vessels that did not house Imperial-Sith boarders were the new found focus of the battle.
Escape Pods launched from some of the surviving vessels, but not even it's fleeing combatants were exempted from the slaughter. Fighters tore from the belly of the Reaper, and reinforced those still engaging the Republic Fighters, while eradicating any life-boats, and possible survivors of the Republic's side. Slowly, but surely, the Imperial Command vessels tucked within the asteroid field finally begun their approach towards the planet. Deploying gunships, shuttles, and transports for upcoming invasion.
The Sith Mastermind couldn't but help smile as battle finally played out.
Finally~ It is time to dust off my armor, and begin again what I've so craved... Prepare my shuttle and - Begin landing dropships.