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Post by Infinite Imperium on Aug 26, 2017 19:44:14 GMT -8
==STATUS SL==
<<106 PP; L15 Sector>>
Master Marine (P5) Ahirom checked the time in his HUD again. He had been tracking his target for nearly three months. in that time had had tracked the outlaw across seven planets in three different sectors. The hunt had been challenging but that was half the fun of being a Bloodhound.
The target had bombed an Imperial Outpost. Then had gone running instead of sticking around honorably. That made him the domain of the Bloodhounds, the best trackers that could be gathered from the Imperium. Being a Bloodhound, of course, didn't include actually capturing the target. Which explained the boring part of his job.
For the moment, the target was lurking in a run down housing complex. So far, the target hadn't left in three days & Ahirom was just waiting for the strike troops to arrive & capture the target. The fun part was always using the wide range of skills & tools he had available to follow the target to the ends of the galaxy. He almost wished the target would escape. Of course, he wouldn't do anything to tip off the target.
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Post by Infinite Imperium on Apr 14, 2018 3:19:10 GMT -8
==STATUS SL==
<<107 PP, N15 Sector>>
Gilgamesh did one last mental check of his equipment. Two small thermal detonators, check. One shaped charge, check. One M-CLAW fitted out with her personal favorite pistol sized slugthrower module, Check. Ten magazines of twenty rounds, check. Plus one loaded into the weapon already, check. One sharpened bit of metal he called a knife & everyone calls either a sword or an 'oh carp', check. One pair of stun cuffs, check. His armor itself, check. One pair of beskar knockers, Obvious check.
The ground had been nearly five miles below him when he started his check, but was significantly closer by the time he finished. Looking below, he judged the distance to the ground. Figuring the timing was about right, he pulled the two detonators from his belt, armed them for contact trigger, & gave each a little shove.
The drifted lazily away from him, keeping roughly level with his own speed. Swinging his feet around below him, he tripped the repulsors built into his armor. There was a hard impact as the device attempted, mostly successfully, to keep him from smearing himself across the ground. The force of the landing did drive him down to one knee, along with a fist slammed into the ground for that extra bit of stability. Off to either side of him, a pair of tanks simply ceased to exist as each was hit with one of the falling thermal detonators.
Having made an appropriate entrance. Gil pulled his pistol as he rose from his landing. a quartet of headshots dropped the four guards that had the misfortune of being on duty outside. The pair of guards standing over the hostages fell half a second later.
After a casual stroll over to the fenced in pen, he knocked it open with his knife. The guards inside had cut out the lights, fortunately the burning craters that had been tanks provided plenty of light themselves.
-Gil
& that was with my off hand.
Having completed his secondary objective of freeing the locals, Gil turned to finishing his actual task. Arming the shaped charge, he tossed the disc at the still rather distant door. It hammered home dead center. A moment later & there was a fresh new hole for him to stride through. All without having to break from his apparently lazy stride. The guards inside proved every bit as challenging as the first batch. Which is to say he went through them like plasma through butter.
At last he came to the final room of the complex. Seeing the door lock, he realized he had forgotten something after all. Namely that little electronic lock pick device. He paused for a moment as he considered what to do. As he was thinking his comm pinged. It was QM, the one in charge of giving him & the other Titans both orders & special gear.
-QM
Did you forget something again, 001?
Gil mumbled something about a door. Fortunately, QM's question was purely rhetorical. A MER-1 floated into the hall a moment later, carrying the required device.
-Gil
Thanks QM.
Plugging the device into the door he waited for it to cycle open. QM had already closed the connection. None of the other Titans he had spoken too knew QM's identity, or even any fact about them. But then again, they all had secrets of their own. They didn't even use their own names. 001-Gilgamesh was just his code name. Given for whatever reason by 000-QuarterMaster. The door finally dinged & opened.
Inside, the target managed to retain his composure as he sat regally behind his desk. The target barely flinched when Gil tossed the desk out of the way. At least this one wasn't likely to soil himself in transit. A quick pair of stun cuffs later & he was hauling the rat out of his hole. Another day's boring work.
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Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh
Member
Is mimic a bhris beal duine a shron - often a person's mouth gets their nose broke
Posts: 660
Affiliation: Oglaigh na Irandoideanne - Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Gráinne Mhaol & Fiach Dubh on May 16, 2018 18:02:48 GMT -8
Glancing at the navigational hardware the woman realized that they were putting some mileage on the beast of a ship. She quietly returned her piloting. Boland was making headway in his brazen examination of the contents of his new significant others belongings. A small book revealed itself. He Opened it and saw handwritten dated entries. A diary. Quickly Boland closed the text placing in gently from where it had come. The Raven's wings rose and it cooed but relaxed as Boland chose not to read
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Post by Ciarán Dubh & Laoch Bán Dubh on Jun 22, 2018 0:47:22 GMT -8
A lone Wayfarer roars along recklessly with little regard for anything in front, or any side of them
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Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna
Member
Fag an Bealach
Posts: 185 
Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna ~ Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna on Jul 3, 2018 2:37:18 GMT -8
A Wayfarer rolls by in hyperspace. An officer speaking to himself says "Self... I realize that we have had our disagreements but... but we both agree that this is idiocy." And on and on and on the ship went swaying side to side
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The Red Baron
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Permission to jump in an X-Wing and blow something up?
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Affiliation: The Flying Circus
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Post by The Red Baron on Aug 28, 2018 19:49:19 GMT -8
Richthofen felt his craft shaking as it raced through hyperspace, far away from the Imperial fleet that had just arrived on Shili. The Flying Circus, bar one, we’re now trying to make it to the rendezvous point with the Ringmaster. He had set the autopilot and was leaning back into the seat of his fighter, thinking through the day’s events. The mission had, overall, been a success, but they had lost their bombers. Following their attack on the facility, TIEs from nearby installations had heard the warnings and seen the massive explosion of the base, and had scrambled to destroy the bombers. While the lighter, faster X-Wings had escaped, the slow, lumbering bombers had been destroyed by waves of TIE Fighters crashing against them like the surge during a storm. Looking out as the ships went through the cobalt tunnel of hyperspace, he got on coms with Yellow Two, trying to pass the last ten minutes before they arrived at the rendezvous point. He double checked his fuel levels, pressure readouts, and weapon charge for the fiftieth time. Still looking good. Or at least decent enough to get him aboard the Ringleader. As he did, he saw the tunnels of hyperspace transition into light blue streaks arcing across the windshield, and he immediately disengaged his autopilot and took over flying himself. Ten other ships exited hyperspace in short succession after him, each looking like blue comments as they sailed back into real space. He flipped a few switches, and was about to speak with the larger ship, but suddenly, with the small roar of dropping out of hyperspace, there it was. The MC-80a Cruiser may not have seemed like much, but she had everything they could need on missions. Piloting the ships through the shield, he came in realatively fast, yanking hard on the stick to set it down in its assigned position. As the onboard engineers began looking over the damage, he hopped out of the pilot’s seat and walked over to a glossy, midnight blue fighter, complete with a checkered stripe running around the nose, halfway between the bridge and nose of the ship. As he did, a female pilot disembarked as well and walked towards him. Giving her a friendly hug, Lothar dragged her off to the side.
“Well, how many ships?!”
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The Red Baron
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Affiliation: The Flying Circus
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Post by The Red Baron on Aug 29, 2018 13:11:05 GMT -8
The two of them chatted about their kill counts before going their separate ways. The ship was currently abuzz as the ground crew fixed up ships, refueled and rearmed, and prepared the ships for their next mission. He was starving, so once he got back to his quarters, Lothar stripped down and put on a simple vest and cargo pants. Sitting down in his chair, he requested a simple meal of seafood, rice balls, and a tall, cold glass of coffee. He had just begun eating when he was suddenly interrupted. Through the ship a mechanical bugle blared and the pilot looked up startled, a rice ball halfway to his mouth. Like angry ants, men poured from everywhere over the ship and ran toward waiting laser cannons or fighters. Air attack... that’s what the bugle was playing. Air attack. Jumping to his feet, Lothar Von Richthofen stared out the viewport and saw nothing. Then he squinted off into the distance and saw dark little flecks appear against the massive star they were nearby.
“Bombers!” someone yelled over the noise. “Bomber attack!”
Tossing his glass aside, the pilot sprinted to his waiting X-Wing, clambered up the wing and plopped into the cockpit. The ground crew already had the engine started and, ignoring the seat straps, he waved everyone back and held the magnetic locks as the massive clamps holding the fighter to the ground were yanked out. Peering forward over the nose, Richthofen pushed the throttle up, and the fighter surged forward. His eyes were locked forward as his right hand checked the directed thrust down and switched on his guns.
Coming out of the ship, the plane crabbed into the interference from the nearby star, and he held his takeoff pitch long enough to clear the Ringmaster’s bow, then retracted the legs. As the T-85 slid away from the Star he felt the engines scream to full power and the fighter slowly rose. Slapping up the thrust, he leveled off for a few seconds to gain more speed. Glancing towards the attackers, he was shocked to see how close they were. Escort ships were firing now, and he could see red streaks blazing over the Imperials. Beginning a wide turn, he waited until his wingmen were loosely joined, then he began to climb. Eyes narrowed, he realized he wouldn’t have to go too high- the Imperials were skimming the solar energy from the star
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The Red Baron
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Permission to jump in an X-Wing and blow something up?
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Affiliation: The Flying Circus
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Post by The Red Baron on Aug 29, 2018 14:38:52 GMT -8
Hold it... hold it... He bunted slightly and began a gentle turn, guaging the intercept geometry from the computer readouts in front of him. He could plainly see them now. They were the high-tech Imperial bombers, big and ugly, like a bumblebee, with grey paint and dark black solar panels. The Neutralizer, made by Sienar, with a one-man crew.
Now...
Yanking back on the stick, Lothar flipped the nimble fighter over and sliced down towards the lumbering bombers. His two wingmen repositioned and floated into single file behind him. Leaving the throttle up, he lightly played the stick and thrust direction to swoop in from above. The Neutraliser had a well-armored laser cannon turret, and as it started to swivel Richthofen opened fire with a three-second burst. His four wing-mounted laser cannons spewed out a stream of 180 bright red lasers, and the wings shuddered from the recoil. Pieces flew off the other bomber, but the Imperial had banked up and his tail turret was firing.
Yanking the stick back into his lap, Lothar grunted and barrel-rolled the fighter up and over the bombers. Inverted, staring down at the expanse of space, he saw his second wingman firing and made a snap decision. Cutting in front of his first wingman, Arihnda Ciardello, Richthofen snap rolled upright behind another Neutralizer. The other X-Wing immediately pulled straight up to avoid a collision, and as he did the Imperial tail laser-cannon fired a long, lethal burst into the fighter’s belly. Horrified, Lothar saw his wingman’s plane burst into flames and explode into pieces in a white burst.
Enraged, he screamed, pulled his nose to bear, and fired at point-blank range into the Neutralizer. The pilot’s seat disappeared in a cloud of shredded metal, glass, and smoke. The big ship instantly nosed over and exploded, throwing up a tremendous fan-shaped spray of debris. Blinking rapidly, Lothar rolled up and over again, looking down as the rest of the Imperials vanished in similar flaming fans of debris.
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The Red Baron
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Permission to jump in an X-Wing and blow something up?
Posts: 16
Affiliation: The Flying Circus
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Post by The Red Baron on Aug 29, 2018 19:56:36 GMT -8
As he set the fighter down, Lothar let out a yell as the grey jets from the directed propulsion stopped and lowered the ship onto the light grey hangar floor. Flight technicians locked it and the other fighters down, before the MC-40a jumped away. They wanted to avoid the First Order reinforcements that were surely coming now. As the ship raced away through hyperspace, Manfred stormed through the halls back to his quarters, locking the door behind him. Taking off his flight suit and helmet before throwing them against the wall, the ebony color contrasting with the white hue of the walls, he threw himself onto the couch and let out a yell. It was a good thing the compartments were soundproof. Oswald "Ozzie" Boelcke was dead. It couldn't be. His childhood friend, who had been by him all these years, couldn't be dead. There was just no way. His friend, who had grew up on some backwater mining system with him, watching the stars twinkling like diamonds above and hoping to one day fly the galaxy. His friend, who had ran away with him and faked his age to join the Fighter Corps at a younger than allowed age, in order to escape their lives. His friend, who had defected with him to the Resistance when it was clear that the Galactic Alliance could no longer hold itself together. And, perhaps most importantly, his friend, who had stood by him through thick and thin, and been a faithful wingman since... forever, as far as he was concerned. NO. HE. WAS. NOT. DEAD. This was all a bad dream. He was sure he would wake up and go out to the mess, to see Ozzie pulling a practical joke on Ten of Spades. That they would get in their X-Wings as normal and fly off to blast some TIEs. But he knew, deep down, that this wasn't true. That Boelcke was truly dead. The captain, having heard of the death, had ordered the crew to listen to whatever he needed, and so he ordered a bottle of the strongest liquor they had aboard. A crewmember brought it to the door, and he saw him leaving through the opaque, one-way glass. Opening the door, he took the whiskey, brought it inside, cleared the mess off his eating table with one swift hand motion, and opened it up. Taking a small glass from the shelf above him, he filled it up, and guzzled the amber liquid from the glass in a few seconds, feeling it burning as it went down. He was about to fill up another glass, to prepare himself to fully drown his sorrows in liquor, when he heard the near-silent sound of the door to his cabin open and close, and felt a presence he knew all too well just nearby. He wasn't sure if this was the force or not, but he knew exactly who it was after mere miliseconds.
Arihnda.
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Post by Sith'ari Grizz on Mar 25, 2019 17:14:00 GMT -8
It had been an era, an æon, an eternity...
The universe had changed, both dramatically and subtly.
And now there was something brewing on the very fringes of the Expansion Region, something old - and yet new. It had taken months of preparations, but the asteroid was finally ready for what was to come. The stealth field had been the first thing installed, followed by the equipment needed to create an atmospheric bubble around a large portion of the rock that had been drifting away from the Expansion Region - its orbit so decayed that it was now headed toward the void.
At the center of the atmospheric bubble were neatly arrayed piles of relics and artefacts from a time long gone. Each pile was placed carefully at a specific point inside an intricately detailed runic circle that had been carved into the rock. Standing around the circle were five robed, red-skinned individuals, each identical in appearance.
In unison they raised their arms and begun chanting in an almost-dead language. The carvings in the rock started to expand and contract slowly in a way that could only be described as 'breathing'. Well below the range of average hearing began a soft rhythmic pulse akin to a heartbeat, it grew in volume until it drowned out the voices of those gathered around the circle.
A black glow enveloped the piles of relics. The light grew fat and heavy, spilling down over the artefacts, across the stone and filling the runic circle. Thin, dark tendrils appeared at the edges of the circle, worming up out of the black mass, twisting through the air before finding homes in the chests of the robed figures. The glow encompassed the figures, their chanting not missing a beat as their life-force mingled with the thick black light.
Their purpose was almost complete.
It would not be long before the universe would be altered forever, before it remembered something that it had forgotten.
The air grew thick and hot, the black glow sunk deeper into the spectrum until nothing was visible, the heartbeat noise gained volume with every pulsation.
And then, suddenly, there was moment of deafening silence in the anti-light. A fraction of a second later the black glow imploded; time and space twisted upon itself and a tear in the fabric of the universe swallowed everything associated with the, now concluded, ritual.
It spat forth something in exchange though; something red and hulking, something with bone spurs and facial tentacles, something dark and dangerous, something Sith.I AM REBORN. |
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Post by Sith'ari Grizz on Mar 27, 2019 1:04:44 GMT -8
Hours had passed, the hulking red being had barely moved since his return to this realm. He sat in total silence, his senses riding the flow of the Force through the Expansion Region and beyond. His minds' eye was filled with the things that he has missed in his absence; familiar and foreign places flashed through his mind, wars and treaties of peace, the rise and fall of empires...
...including his own.
With the remnants of Sictis Squad, his personal set of clone bodyguards, giving their lives so that he may be reborn, there was nothing left for him to rule. His empire and assets on Tynna had been dismantled, carved up and sold off to the highest bidders, the people had moved on - and after a few generations, he was nothing more than a vague figure in a fairytale told to young children in rural communities.
It was more than apparent to the Sith Lord that it was time to move on, to find other corners of the universe to occupy - even if it was briefly.
As a part of his preparations to leave this asteroid that was making its way toward the void, Sith'ari Grizz set the atmospheric and stealth field generators to overload, ensuring that there would be nought but dust left to be scattered across the galaxy. He boarded his heavily-modified Star Courier that had been left behind by Sictis Squad and took off. He trailed behind the asteroid at a safe distance for a time, waiting patiently for it to vaporise.
After a brief moment of reflection while watching the tiny specks that remained of the asteroid spin further toward the darkness of the space between solar systems, the Sith Lord programmed the navicomputer to select a random location from its pre-programmed co-ordinates and jumped to hyperspace.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Mar 23, 2021 0:32:41 GMT -8
As Zec’s fleet made its way through hyperspace, he had sent word ahead of the mission’s end and accomplishment. The swirl of hyperspace flew by, their path shifting from the Mid Rim to the Expansion regions. They were growing close to their exit point when they started receiving a message on an encrypted channel.
"Open the channel. It’s time to make our report."
Acknowledging the Nautolan’s command, the pirate on comms opened the channel. A hologram then appeared in front of Zec, a cloaked figure sitting in a chair. When the figure spoke, it smooth male voice came through, a hint of synthetic tone lacing itself with it.
I hear you have completed the raid. Tell me, how did it go?
Zec gave a smile before nodding.
Indeed we have and I’m quite sure you’d be happy with the spoils. A Baleen-class filled the capacity by what I can tell as well as a pair of Action VIs. All escorts were eliminated so there are no witnesses to recount a tale.
The cloak moved signifying a nod at Zec’s response.
Good. Get the Baleen unloaded as quickly as you can, then dispose of it. Begging sorting the contents and keep what we need and get the rest on the black market. As for the Actions, have the men start turning them into Interceptor IVs. We can never have too little ships. Speaking of, The figure sat forward. Begin preparations for another mission. There is a particular Defense Force that is no longer in need of a few Vanguard-class Heavy Assault Gunships. They’ll make a fine addition to our growing force.
Zec nodded.
Understood. I take it negotiations on Nar Shaddaa are going well, then?
Fairly well. A few gangs have already joined up and a few others are in need of a slight reinforcement to our capability. Slowly, but surely, we will be a pirate force on the levels of other major groups. I will info you once I have more details regarding the Vanguards. Be ready.
The hologram then cut out and Zec sat back into his seat.
"You all heard the boss. Let’s get back and get to work."
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2021 1:27:48 GMT -8
Exiting hyperspace, the pirate fleet arrived in the Cularin system or, more specifically, just outside of the Cularin system asteroid belt. It was place that held quite a history with pirates. Many times had it been the home of pirate organizations. But it had been abandoned for some time after rumors said that the previous group was taken out. It was the perfect place to set up a base and with other asteroids already set up to handle other tasks as well as the hassle it was to navigate, no place was better.
Entering the field, Zec transmitted their codes to their base, now called Macalania, so that those remaining were aware of their arrival and wouldn’t begin firing on them or attempting to raid them. Through the field they flew, taking it slow and steady as they moved around to avoid the flowing rocks. Before long, the largest asteroid came into view as all the ships began working to pilot themselves into the hangar with the Baleen lining up with a docking ring.
Quickly departing his ship, Zec began issuing orders to those present to begin unloading as well as to have the Action VIs moved to Darkside the moment the cargo was removed so they could be transformed into the Interceptor IVs. Becoming a bustling hive of activity, the pirate began doing as their boss had requested.
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Mar 30, 2021 13:05:55 GMT -8
*Passing quiet through hyperspace Morrigan looked at ashes in hand. All was done. All that he had created for decades was now over. She held the painful reminder tightly in hand*
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Sept 28, 2021 20:51:39 GMT -8
Settling into hyperspace a ship shot along just like molasses running on a flat surface. In -4O weather. Running against the wind. Slow is the Ok. With that painfully clear, the ship, and those sentient beings situated inside the bloody thing, for some time. At long last the vessel tore away
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Post by Demona Vilebride on Jan 2, 2022 7:03:07 GMT -8
Throughout the length of a CR90 corvette's interior, screams and shrieks could be heard as Demona and the rest of her team finished off the crew. She wrapped slender fingers around the damp handle of her throwing axe, plucking it from the back of the human she had just murdered with it. It came loose with a wet squelch, blood pooling in the wound but not before she got a chance to examine her handiwork. She licked beads of crimson from her otherwise pale lips, shaking her head to the side to throw her white locks over her shoulder and out of her face. A good throw, she thought to herself. It managed to perfectly cleave through the man's spine as he had been fleeing, effectively paralyzing the human as the warmth left his body and the eternal cold set in. She knelt down and cleaned the edge of the blade on the corpse's shirt, then returned the weapon to her belt before rising again.
She brought a hand to her ear and activated the comm device resting over her right lobe, opening a channel to the rest of her team. "How goes the hunt?" She inquired with a savage grin, listening to the static of the channel until a reply broke through the white noise.
The ship's been secured, Captain, mostly. There are a few crew left trapped in the cargo hold, but their armed and putting up some steep resistance. It'll take time to subdue them if we want to avoid any losses.
A dark scowl crept over her features.
"Void the hold." As though that weren't the obvious choice.
There was a brief pause.
We won't be able to take any slaves though. Everyone else is dead.
Always thinking about their profits. It's what made them so reliable.
"Void the hold." She repeated. "The ship is the prize. These chattel were just standing in the way. Let's not waste time over it."
Understood...
Demona found her way over to a viewport and watched for a few minutes until she saw what she looking for. A number of frozen bodies drifted by the transparisteel window, voided into the vacuum where their corpses would likely end up in the ghost nebula to feed the dark entities that resided there. She leaned forwards, hands smearing blood on the transparent surface. The amulet under her shirt glowed a sickly green glow, filling her mind with dark laughter.
She smiled.
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Post by Demona Vilebride on Jan 3, 2022 10:59:59 GMT -8
Deep in the heart of the Ghost Nebula Hydraulic doors dearly in need of maintenance creaked open with a groan as Demona walked onto the bridge of the captured corvette, looking around at the members of her horde that were manning the essential systems in place of the original crew. Like her they were all umbaran, pale skinned shadow people used to the radioactive hell-scape of the nebula. She glared at the shorn headed Glixus Fellblade, her immediate subordinate on this particular venture. Like Demona and the rest of the crew, he too was spattered in blood that wasn't his and marked by old scars. He sneered as he saw her, performing a mock half bow before returning to stare out the view port on the bridge."Prepare to get us underway." She said without emotion.Glixus nodded and bellowed harshly."Plot a course for Nar Shaddaa.""Belay that."They faced one another now, each studying the other for obvious signs of corruption. There were...things, in the nebula, entities that were beyond the ken of mortal men. On occasion they wrapped their claws around the minds of those that traveled these wicked waters and made them act strangely. Neither seemed afflicted. Eventually Glixus nodded and drew a hand across his throat at the navigator, who stopped inputting data."The men were expecting a few distractions for a job well done.""They'll have to wait." She hissed coolly. "I want to take her for a spin first."Brow raised. "Her?"Demona grinned revealing pearly white teeth filed to sharp points."Didn't you know? All the best ships are female.""HA!" "Alright, Captain. Where to then?"She eased herself into the bridge seat at the center station, usually reserved for the captain or commander on duty at the time. It still stank of the corpse they so recently had pulled off of it. She thrummed her fingers on one of the arm rests."Not for you to know. Return to the 'Daemon's Bride' on the shuttle and await further instruction. Leave the men wishing for some 'distraction', with me. I'll provide plenty of entertainment."He wasn't happy about it, that she could tell, but Glixus would follow her commands. He grudgingly growled and walked off the bridge, leaving her to reflect. A vessel like this wouldn't add much firepower to their slowly amassing fleet, it probably would be better just to sell it. But she had plans for how it might prove useful in the meanwhile. First though, it needed a new name. Demona input several commands into the control console in front of her and accessed the ships registration. She deleted what was there and replaced the name with something a bit more fitting. Once Glixus had left aboard the shuttle they had boarded upon and made for the rendezvous point, the newly christened 'Wraith's Wale' exited the nebula, trailing contrails of radioactive gas before jumping to lightspeed. |
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Post by Demona Vilebride on Jan 4, 2022 6:25:57 GMT -8
Location: Ghost Nebula - Witches Rest
Deep in the heart of the radioactive hell-scape of the nebula, a derelict station floated in the poisonous green mist, home to a band of cutthroats that operated in the area. An old RZ-52 Dekard transport emerged from the roiling waves of plasma, relying on maneuvering thrusters as it neared the base. In the distance the crimson havod alloy hull of the Victory II-class Star Destroyer 'Daemon's Bride' could be seen, bathed in the green glow of the nebula, vanishing and reappearing with the tides. Glixus rested a grimy hand on the headrest of the pilot's seat, leaning over to get a good look at the old structure, originally modelled off of the Azzameen station. It had seen better days, but it still had power and the hull wasn't entirely compromised, so it worked well enough as a place to launch their raids from. "Take us in." He said to the pilot, another umbaran with a smooth shaved head. Pale eyes leered out the viewport as the shuttle passed through the magnetic shield of the hangar and set down on the ground, landing struts extended to take the weight. A slight lurch let him know they were stable. He turned from the viewport and exited the shuttle as the boarding ramp came down, strolling onto filthy hangar floor.
He wasn't alone. Activity flourished across the extent of the bay, as crews worked on their own ships and offloaded freshly stolen cargo from recent plunders. Glixus colourless eyes narrowed as he saw a group of trandoshans leading a procession of chained slaves off a wicked looking YV-666 freighter. One of the lizard men caught his eye and waved a three clawed hand his way. Scowling, the umbaran turned away and left the hangar, heading further inside. The walls were rusty and coated in grime, likely not having been cleaned since the original owners of the station had inhabited it. Reaching down to his hip, he drew a narrow vibro-blade from a sheath on his belt and began to roll the blade between his fingers. He passed by other umbarans in the corridors, along with a mix of a few other unsavory aliens. Even with shielding there were few species that could tolerate the nebula long term. The radiation tended to goo-ify their insides after a time. He sneered as he passed a pair of knife eared nagai, saluting them mockingly with a wave of his vibro-blade.
Eventually he arrived at the command center, strutting through a rusty set of blast doors that were stuck open. Already inside were a dozen members of the crew, all cruel eyed and menacing in their own right. Glixus tossed his knife into the air and then caught the blade between his fingers, before swinging his arm forward and throwing the blade at the table in the center of the room. The blade imbedded itself in the middle of the metallic circle with a thud, getting everyone's attention as all eyes went from the knife back to the one who had thrown it. He shrugged and then grinned, baring the whites of his teeth before walking up to the table and resting his hands on it. "Gentlemen." That elicited a series of hissing laughs from the rest of the crew, given that none of them would have ever considered calling themselves anything remotely close to 'gentle'. As the mirthful chuckles died down, there was silence, all snowy eyed shaven headed members of the shadow people looking to the captain's second in command for news and instruction. He didn't disappoint.
"As you can see, the Captain's not with me. We took the ship as planned, but rather than bring it back here, she decided to take it for a test spin." There were a few mutters throughout the crew, vanishing moments later as Glixus gestured for them all to be quiet. "Not to worry. She'll be back. She'd never abandon her baby." He gutted a thumb over his shoulder at the viewport that dominated one side of the room, the Daemon's Bride visible through the mist. "And when she does return, I'm betting that ships belly will be full of fresh plunder. So, while we wait, it's time to come up with our next job. I have it on good authority that one of the shipping companies that travels through the sector uses an old model marauder corvette that would be just perfect..."
They continued to plot away into all hours of the night. In the toxic radiant fog that permeated the nebula, things twisted and swirled just out of sight. Things lurking in the mist watched with great hunger and malevolent intent, concocting their own wicked schemes in the darkness.
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