Meanwhile...   Posted by The Force.Group: 0
The Force
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Fri 30 Sep 2016
at 01:41
Captain Osrelmure stood at attention as the shuttle docked with his ship. He had not been informed precisely who was arriving on board, but he knew better than to contest any request made with those codes.

The Imperial captain stands nervously at attention as the hatch opens. When he sees who it is that enters his ship, his crisp military attention stance lags a bit. "You're the one who flagged the request?" he says, with perhaps more of a sneer than is wise.

It's an Intelligence uniform, true enough. The insignia matches the rank code he was given. Still, the agent is not what he expected.

The oddity only becomes more boggling when he sees the next ones out of the ship. Never seen Stormtrooper armour like that before... And what is that thing?

"Tell me what you saw," comes the order, in a stern voice.

The captain clears his throat and tries to retain his military dignity. "We encountered pirates. When they attempted to flee, we fired on them. The pirated vessel got in the way, and it was damaged instead. Then the pirates made it to hyperspace. All this information was in the report I beamed to the Navy station," he says, with a hint of reproach.

The captain hears a low, rumbling growl. He ignores it; inhuman animals couldn't intimidate an Imperial officer.

"Did you obtain any prisoners?" comes the next question.

Captain Osrelmure pauses. "No," he says. Suddenly it occurred to him that some of the survivors they picked up in escape pods might be pirates, in disguise. "Ah. We did collect some survivors of the ship. They had been jettisoned before it detonated." The captain began to sweat.

"We'd like to speak to them," drawled the man in strange armour. "I hope you've kept them separated."

"We... I will facilitate interrogations at once."
The Force
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Sun 26 Feb 2017
at 04:00
In the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, Chewbacca leans back in his co-pilots' chair. While the ship's computers run a diagnostic, he reads a flimsiplast printout of the latest News of the Rebellion.

The newsletter featured information about the ongoing war against the Empire that was considered safe to release. It was heartening for Rebels to read about the accomplishments made, rather than rely on their own, often bleak, experiences.

"ROGUES FLY FREE!" A New Elite Squadron is Commissioned!
On the anniversary of the destruction of the Death Star, Rebel Command has proudly announced the formation of a new fighter squadron. Led by Commander Luke Skywalker, Rogue Squadron is composed of the most fearless flyers in the Rebellion. Already credited with several victories, Rogue Squadron is ready to bring the fight to the imperial navy.

Chewbacca hears the familiar tromp of Han Solo on the way to the cockpit. Han's irregular gait and spacer's boots are as distinctive as his voice.

"What are you reading that nonsense for?" Han gripes as he slides into his own chair. Han reaches under the flight console to pull out a bottled beverage as he keys the engine into a test cycle.

Chewbacca turns the page with one huge hand and responds without looking up. "[Language unknown:  Waany encourtra t ticredive] Luke "

Han snorts. "'Best pilots in the Rebellion.' Except that the best pilot turned them down!"

Chewbacca turns another page and hoots softly.
The Force
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Fri 14 Apr 2017
at 01:22
Moff Paydon Montrose stood in the banquet hall of the Emperor's skyhook. The view of the Coruscant skyline was magnificent. Some of the guests were admiring the terminator line as it gradually turned the planet's cityscape into a scintillating light show. Montrose hardly glanced at it. Instead he sipped his golden wine, a one-hundred-bottle run made from berries supposedly nourished with the blood of an alien royal family. He smoothed his new silk ascot and glanced around at his fellow guests, luxuriating in the decadent surroundings and distinguished company.

His eyes widened and he grinned appreciatively as he noticed someone approaching him. Ysanne Isard, the Director of Imperial Intelligence, drifted through the crowd and nodded a greeting. Her mismatched red-and-blue eyes and white-streaked hair far outshone the simple gown she wore.

"Moff Montrose," she addressed him as she raised her own glass in salutation. "A pleasant surprise to see you here. I thought you might be reorganizing your sector's defences. After losing a vital component to the Karhexadine squadron, you seemed to believe that the force was under strength."

Montrose sipped his glass, ordering his mind for the speech he had been practicing on the entire hyperspace jump. "The same bureaucrats who reassigned my ships might have prevented the right ears from hearing my broadcasted message. I came to make certain that my transmission was not in vain."

"I see. Did it occur to you that other ears might hear such a transmission? Rebel ears, for instance?"

The Moff stopped cold. His next remark, about wanting the entire Empire to bear witness to his struggle, died unsaid. "The message was encoded. Encrypted by the finest security technicians in the Empire," he said. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"They might have been the finest, but not the most loyal. The Rebels received your message months ago, and have recently finished decoding it." Isard's voice was matter-of-fact, as though informing him of the time. "Now they are aware that there is something of significance on Karhexadine, and that it is currently unguarded."

Montrose began to sweat. His eyes flicked around the room, seeking aid or perhaps an escape. He glanced at the viewports and was suddenly aware of just how high up they were. "Well, perhaps if the ships had not been reassigned..." he began, then ran out of steam as he met Isard's icy gaze.

Ysanne Isard sipped her wine and placed the glass on a nearby table. "The Rebels have already sent a mission to the planet. Your recklessness has endangered the Empire, and in your arrogance you believe you can win political favour." She turned, pausing only to glance over her shoulder. "Enjoy the wine," she said, before walking off.

Moff Paydon Montrose glanced down at his glass in horror. The bubbly golden liquid swished in his glass, just as it had when he had been offered it. His head swiveled as he rapidly scanned the party. He suddenly realized that no-one was standing close to him. He was alone in a broad circle, with everyone facing some other direction. The only person in the banquet who was looking at him was across the room. A red-haired, green-eyed woman in a stunning black gown was looking directly at him. She was holding a wine glass, just like his. She lifted it to her lips without drinking.

Moff Montrose quickly rushed out, seeking aid. Of course the Emperor's skyhook had an entire medical team ready to meet his every need. Of course, it didn't help at all.
The Force
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Mon 3 Jul 2017
at 02:10
The Intelligence agent stepped out from the shuttle and shaded her eyes from the setting sunlight. She gazed southward, in the direction that the scout troopers had ridden off in pursuit of the Rebels.

"They haven't reported back yet," she said aloud. It was not a question.

The Imperial army officer, a pot-bellied Major who was sweating from heat and stress. He lowered his macrobinoculars and shook his head. "We received a brief communication from Lieutenant Fah after encountering..." he trailed off as he saw the agent was now walking back towards the shuttle. He screwed up his face in consternation and resumed scanning the horizon.

The Intelligence agent stood aside from the gangplank as a man stepped out. His lanky swagger owed nothing to military marching precision. His armour owed something to Stormtrooper laminate, but with some exposed sections for easy movement. He glanced at the soldiers all around. He smirked, then looked at the agent.

"Find them. Eliminate them. Make certain it's done," she said to him.

He cracked his neck, then flexed his right arm. Behind him, his backpack hissed as hydraulic arms folded and moved. A long blaster rifle hovered in front of him, held steady as he gripped its handle. He lifted it slightly, its weight buoyed by the mechanical arms, and critically examined the scope settings.

The Major snorted. "Agent Kovoni, I doubt there is anything that this mercenary can provide beyond the capabilities of my soldiers."

The Intelligence Agent faced him. "Major, this is Baron Erik von Klisson. Assign a speeder and a detail of soldiers to his command."

The armoured sharpshooter was already on the move, trotting away towards the escape pods. He crouched nearby, examining the ground. The Intelligence Agent stood behind him, arms folded.

"Seven. I can take a few prisoner, if you want."

The agent shook her head. "Don't bother."
The Force
 GM, 1072 posts
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Wed 8 Nov 2017
at 20:40
Several kilometres away, the Imperial agents had found the site of the battle between the Stormtroopers and the Rebels. Despite her hard-driving attitude to this point, the Intelligence agent had insisted on a full battlefield analysis. It had taken a full day to finally find Baron Erik von Klisson's body. Now she stood before his bloody remains. The Major had come to see her, stepping around shrapnel and dried blood. He stopped short when he saw that the creature was with her.

It was nearly two meters in height and clad on body armour, with three thick claws and a maw of pointed teeth. It looked at him with yellow eyes, glowering in a perpetual snarl.

"My condolences on the loss of your colleague," He says. He had decided on the word 'colleague' after much deliberation.

The agent looked up, her expression confused. Then she looked at him properly. "He failed me. I was merely hoping that his corpse could inform us of our enemy." She looked away again. "So far he has failed at that too."

Now the agent turned to the reptilian humanoid, who gives a rumbling growl. "Track them down and kill them. The Major will assign you some soldiers. Don't kill them yourself," she warns, pointing at his face admonishingly. The creature opens its mouth and hisses.

The Major narrows his eyes at the unilateral promise of his support to this subhuman creature. Working for a mercenary was bad enough, but now some savage monster?

Nevertheless, he opened his comm. "Sergeant Rollier, prepare your squad to move out. You'll be escorting..." He pauses, trying to find the words to describe the creature that everyone had been ignoring. Then the beast itself reached forward, took his commlink arm in its hand, and pulled it close to its mouth.

"Rissk the Bloody," it croaked.

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:57, Fri 10 Nov 2017.

The Force
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Wed 12 Sep 2018
at 20:42
On a distant moon's rocky surface, a trio of Rebels were working inside a ferrocrete bunker. Lieutenant Wedge Antilles was reviewing files on a datapad. He watched the two technicians preparing their own work. One was configuring a holocam for high-speed recording, while another conducted a comm check with a fourth Rebel, outside the bunker.

"Ready, sir," said one tech.
"Go ahead, then," replied Wedge.

The other tech actives the comm. "Corporal Hix, we are ready."

Outside, a heavily-armoured rebel soldier is standing on a clear, flat plane. She checks her rocket launcher, then kneels down and lifts it. "Clear. Firing in three, two, one..."

The Rebels in the bunker watch as she pulls the trigger and sends the rocket flying at a solid wall about a hundred meters in front of her. The rocket twists up into the air, missing the wall entirely. The Rebels watch as it passes the wall and weaves between two stone pillars. They watch as it slams into a transparasteel dome.

The dome cracks under the force of the rocket's impact. There is no explosion. Wedge and the technicians look to the high-speed recording.

"It missed the opening," says Wedge as they review the footage. "Just impacted on the surface."

"We'll have to check the data logs to be sure of the problem," says one of the techs.

The Rebel soldier activates her commlink. She is about a kilometer away from the dome and did not see the impact clearly. "Did it work?"

Wedge returns the call. "No, Hix. I'll be out in the speeder to pick you up. Then we'll go get the device. Sounds like the eggheads want to review the data logs before we test again."

Inside the transparasteel dome, a meter-high barrel with an antenna sticking out of it continues to beep and blink.