Krzesimir Viggo
The First Order
Posts: 360
Affiliation: First Order
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Post by Krzesimir Viggo on Sept 24, 2013 17:25:48 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays.A slight hissing... numbness... The cold-Dark has claimed it for so long, it does not recall anything before. It tries to search out it's surroundings and finds that it sense little more than that constant low hiss. Hissss... for a time nothing but that sound is heard, then a lite ping interrupts the sound, followed by an ominous creak, then ... nothing. time passes, being around it stir, some noting the oddly metallic noises emanating for the cryo-chamber. As they begin to move and speak, the hushed movements and speech is shattered by a sound of agony. It echoes in an otherwise mostly silent room, reverberating off the walls and rattling loose items on flat surfaces. It even shakes the bones, and sometimes scales, of those beings in the room that have them. After what seems an eternity, but is really less than 30 seconds, the sound stops as suddenly as it began, leaving only its lingering echoes behind. A scraping-writhing sound begins to emanate from one of the alcoves, where a carbonite block had been, and four legged beast, made of both mettle and flesh, began to crawl slowly from the shadows, its metal tail lashing the ground and walls around it. If any can see it well in the cold-dark of the room, it resembles a scorpion separated from its claws and two of its legs, with a Nexu's head, at the front of its torso, its flesh is black and scaly, its metal is scarred and cracked.
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Non-Com Or'dinii
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Affiliation: Mandalorian Clan Or'dinii
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Post by Non-Com Or'dinii on Sept 24, 2013 18:41:26 GMT -8
DIVA's HORROR RP; The Uya; Shuttle on approachDeep in the far reaches of space, far from any well known hyperlanes, rests a massive ship. Nearly eight kilometres long, the ship is one of a kind. It is also not responding to communications. MandalMine Collective, the company that owns the ship has sent a small shuttle to the ship to investigate & regain control if needed. On board the shuttle is a single fireteam of SS Operatives, their hulking, glossy black armour sending chills down the spines of the others on board that knew of the reputation surrounding the elite class of warriors. The whispers of emotionless brutes willing to do anything to complete their mission had already spread to most that worked closely with the large company.
The fireteam that was on board the shuttle had just recently been through "decom". A rigorous & brutal examination that was designed to stripped away nearly every shred of uniqueness, leaving only an emotionless killing machine devoted solely to the company. It would likely be several months before the fireteam went through the process again.
Within a few more minutes, the shuttle would land. As of yet, the larger ship had not reacted in any way to the small shuttle & its twenty passengers. The shuttle slowly approached the derelict ship, and one of the operatives, virtually identical to every other operative, systematically checked his gear. The highly modular OR with its many attachments, the sonic attachment was currently in use, the small, boxy, and versatile HAW, a T-6 pistol, a standard issue med-pack, two cases of extra ammunition for the HAW, one tac-strike beacon, and a case of extra power packs(6) and blaster gas(1) for the OR. It all checked out, just like it had last time he'd checked. It was more a habit to while away the hours than anything else, and it never seemed to grow old, not to him any way. His bulky armor was a pristine, glossy black, except for the mirrored "face" of his helmet. All of its systems were running at optimum, and suit integrity was complete. The operative waited patiently for the shuttle to land, saying nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said, staring at the hatch before him. As soon as he received the order, he'd be moving through the hatch and into the drifting ship, securing a LZ as was SOPs for this kind of mission. Since no contact had been made with the ship, it was considered hostile, an assumption that might save a few lives yet.
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Post by Aileen Lasch on Sept 26, 2013 23:07:17 GMT -8
DIVA's HORROR RP; The Uya; Cryobays
As I watch, one of the other pods slides open and a hulking figure emerges. In the dim light, it's hard to make out, but it's definitely not human. It looks reptilian--Trandoshan, perhaps, or Noghri. It approaches, and I tense, in case I have to make a run for it.
"You prissoner?" Its voice is low and harsh. "Anss'er!"
"Yes," I say, taking a few steps backward and trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from wavering. "I mean, I was, but my pod..." I wave a hand at the open CryoPod beside me. "Yours, too, I guess."
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Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: To only a meager few, his motives are his own.
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Post by Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase on Sept 27, 2013 13:11:27 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays. He nodded his head, his cold dark eyes scanning the woman for markings, scars, tattoos, weapons. Anything that could possibly help him, or tell him what his nose couldn't. His nose on the other hand was telling him she honestly had no clue what was going on. She was begrudgingly telling the truth, and her fear was pungent enough to make the Noghri huff out a snort to clear his olfactory senses.
"Bakur'n..." He said finally, addressing the woman by her blood-born smell. "Uss 'wake, not oth'rss... wy? Makss no ssenss." He continued, the effort of speaking Basic evident with every syllable delivered. Without another word he straightened up from his crouch suddenly; as if in surprise.
The Noghri's muscular frame tensed, his body becoming rigid; like that of a hunting dog catching the scent of something threatening in the distance. He put his clawed hand out towards the Bakurian to silence her before she spoke again, just before a blood curdling cry of Agony echoed off the metallic casing of the Cryo-bay. "Hide..." Was all he said before taking a step back.
He'd smelt it before seeing it, and even then he'd not known what to make of the putrid stink that filled his exceptional senses. It smelt of rotting flesh and oiled hydraulics, with the tang of something unnatural, something that he couldn't put a clawed finger on, and that simple fact brought his basic instincts out to the fore. It looked like something out of a nightmare, or some ancient shaman's visions of mythical beasts. Hybrids of animals amalgamated together into new horrific forms. He'd heard tales like this in his youth, about creatures twisted by the dark magics of the Dark ones, the users of the unnatural forces. But he'd never thought them real... and the sight of this abomination caused the stoic Noghri to murmur an almost forgotten prayer in his native language; a prayer of protection and strength.
He continued to step back from the Bakurian as the creature pulled itself into view. The dim lighting of the bay painting the beast in a sickly pallor. He had backed up enough to be in front of his cryo-pod, taking the pod's door off its hinges with a grunt, and bringing it to bare; like a shield. It wouldn't stand up to much punishment, but it'd do the job long enough to get in close. Close enough to tear whatever this thing's heart out, and maybe stab it a couple of times for good measure.
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Tiro Saul
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Post by Tiro Saul on Sept 27, 2013 22:24:21 GMT -8
I wasn't sure what it was, maybe it was the odd quite, or maybe to cold hard floor that finally got to me. But my eyes opened slowly, my vision blurry. I tried pushing myself on to my knees and found it a bit of a struggle. When I finally reached my knees i brought my right hand up rubbing my eyes. Trying to remove what fog clouded my vision. Blinking once...Twice...A third time my vision zeroed in. Finally making out everything around me, i appeared to be in the crew quarters. Somehow I had been thrown from my bunk and been out for a bit. What caused this I wasn't sure. My head was still a bit fuzzy. Though as I felt for my sabers, i felt nothing. Only to remember a few moments later that I had stored them in some cargo that had been loaded on. Secretly of course, seeing as I knew i wasn't suppose to bring them. But being apart from them was only tolerable, if I knew they were still accessible if I needed them. For now though I didn't feel any danger, so I would maintain my persona of a crew member.
When i was brought on this ship there was hundreds of people here, some were prisoners that had there own guards. But now it was to quite. Maybe i only felt this way cause I awkwardly woke up on the floor. I brought my hand to the beard that covered my face from my right below my ears down, rubbing it. I was wondering where I might find the caption. Pushing off the ground I stood slowly arching my back trying to stretch it awake. I made my way towards a map that was hung in the crew members room. It showed the lay out of the shipe. Taking a few moments I memorized the picture before looking into a small mirror that hung next to it. I looked at myself and smiled, another wonderful day I reassured myself.
Looking back towards my bunk I grabbed the red cloth that laid there. Bringing it up and rubbing my face once more with the fabric, before I lowered it towards my waist and tied it around it tying a nott in my left side. Leaving 6" of the tips hanging down. I turned towards the door's noticing the lights flicker slightly. Well it appeared I need to try and find the other crewmen. And possibly see if the Prisoners cryo-sleep had been interrupted or not. I couldn't keep it for long, so assuring myself which course I wanted to take first. I Made my way towards the doors to the crewmen headed into hallways.
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Post by Aileen Lasch on Sept 28, 2013 1:00:30 GMT -8
DIVA's HORROR RP; The Uya; Cryobay
A horrible scream rends the air, and the stranger retreats. I dive behind him without daring to glance behind me, landing so hard on my shoulder that I can't suppress a cry of pain. Not knowing what to expect, I take cover behind the stranger's empty pod, just as he's tearing its door off with his bare hands. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it's only two or three solid beats away from punching itself straight out of my chest.
Trembling, I chance a peek over the top of the broken pod. My fellow prisoner is poised, the door to his pod held up like a shield, read to strike. Beyond him, I can see only the silhouette of something large and twisted. A fresh wave of fear washes over me, and I duck back down, hoping that--thing out there didn't notice me.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Affiliation: First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2013 10:36:33 GMT -8
Divas Horror Story. The Uya. Cryobay. Xeonon awoke with a start, unable to see anything, to feel anything but the bitter cold and hear a faint ringing sound. He had no idea where he was or what he had been doing. Then suddenly the cold was replaced with pain, his muscles began to convulse as they for the first time in god knows how long felt O2. The next thing was the crushing grasp of slimy things enveloping Xeonon and for a moment he began to panic. Had he died?
Obviously not after all he could feel pain, slowly his vision returned to him as his cybernetic eyes rebooted. Looking around he was suspended in a mess of cords, completely nude inside a coffin. Calming himself down he slowed his breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Something a Jedi would use to meditate it served a duel purpose; to bring oxygen to the muscles and end the cramping going on. As he "lay" there suspended his he tried to remember idolly where he was and why he was trapped here.
The first thing he recalled was his short time at the Red Shift. Although there were gaps in his memory he knew he had been there for a man, but someone had got there first. Then he flew off dejected and wanting to strangle an unknown Moff for being a little shot head. Finally blaring sounds as he was boarded followed by a short scuffle.
The whole while he was thinking Xeonon was busy unburying himself from the mess of cords that had been used to keep him alive from his Mandalorian captures. Why he was even still alive he knew not, but finally he came to the last cord. A long black tube that went into his mouth, no doubt something to keep him alive as his body froze. Grabbing hold of it with his right arm slowly Xeonon pulled it out. In addition to the saliva and mucus a viscus white fluid also came out of his mouth. After a few seconds a foot of tube was out of his mouth and Xeonon was retching.
Reaching up he pulled a lever and with a hiss his own door opened. Flopping to the floor he landed on his hands and knees. Xeonons body let off whisks of steam as the cooler air met his warm body. Looking around he saw others already out of their tubes. He tried to talk but due to some reason all that came out was a low groan.
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Post by Erin Darkwell on Oct 4, 2013 8:07:08 GMT -8
Erin watched him stir on the monitor, her pale eyes narrowing. She decided not to go to him immediately. Instead let him have a few minutes to think about his current predicament. Let the reality of the situation sink in. Often times that alone was enough to make a being more...pliable, and the assassin had a hunch Fel would be a difficult one to break. Curling her pinky to activate her gauntlet, she turned the blade this way and that, admiring it in the light. Perhaps, if the smuggler gave her too much trouble, she would introduce him to the shining length of songsteel. With a kolto tank on hand, they could have quite the discussion, and it was a long way to Aargau.
Her lips were still bowed in a smile when she exited the cockpit, but her blade had retreated within her sleeve. Dressed in her customary white jacket of spider shell silk, olive-toned cargo pants, and black tank-top, she cut quite the casual figure. She laughed again, reflecting that she wouldn't look out of place among Fel's own crew. The human woman rested a hand on the DeathHammer on her hip as she wound her way through the freighter's corridors. Beneath her jacket, Sylvia hugged her ribcage in a cross-draw holster. The slugthrower's magazine was filled with hollow-point rounds; its barrel was capped by a stubby silencer that was good for at least eight shots. The magazine's capacity was sixteen. Erin had underestimated Fel and his crew once before, and her Score had been zeroed. She would not make the same mistake again.
'Even if I have nothing left to lose,' The assassin mused with a bitter smile.
She entered the medbay and approached the kolto tank and the smuggler floating within it. She studied his sinewy, pallid form for a moment. He was naked; she hadn't given him the dignity even of a pair of briefs. A psychological tactic for when she began questioning as much as her own anger getting the better of her. Rapping her knuckles against the glass to get the man's attention, she leaned in to meet his gaze.
"Wake up, little dreamer. Wake up."
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Oct 4, 2013 10:21:17 GMT -8
His reaction came about slowly. For a few moments, three or four relaxed breaths, there was nothing. No movement, no response. But then his eyes opened, one, then the other, blinking, fighting to focus in the Kolto. His natural, ice-blue eye had a burst blood vessel, and was red with the irritant of the chems doing their work. The artificial left eye, a sickly yellow color, stared out at the assassin, a marked contrast to his natural eye: clear, pure white sclera and a cornea free of biologic imperfections. It was a feature out of place on his lined, weathered face. His face, somewhat obscured behind the rebreather, betrayed little emotion. A recognition, to be sure, but little in the way of fear or anger.
He couldn't speak, but looked around the cargo bay, past Darkwell to drink in details of his surroundings. He could feel that he was naked, and though he was loathe to let his scarred torso be seen in day-to-day life, here he had little choice in the matter, and so he paid it no mind. He floated at a height that put him slightly above her, and though he was essentially helpless, he enjoyed being higher than his captor.
Satisfied that he had seen everything he could and committed as much of his blurred surroundings to memory as he could (he was fairly certain he was aboard a later model Corellian transport -- a YT 2400 or 2000, perhaps?) he looked Darkwell in the eyes for a good, long time. Studied the features of her face, her clothing, allowed his eyes to wander lazily over her figure, pausing at breast, stomach, hip and leg. She had the upper hand, but if objectifying her made her feel uneasy, it was a small victory. And if it didn't bother her, it certainly didn't hurt him to gaze unabashedly. Win-win. Liking what he saw (or convincing himself he did,) he allowed himself to react bodily, as men do, to her femininity. His erection floated at her chest height.
He returned his eyes to hers, and raised an eyebrow as if to say "What?"
He shouldn't have, but he couldn't help feeling that flipping her the bird wouldn't have received any better a reaction.
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Post by Erin Darkwell on Oct 4, 2013 10:50:00 GMT -8
Her mouth quirked with distaste at his reaction. She hadn't expected fear, not from Fel, but defiance, even anger? Absolutely. Instead she was faced with a flash of recognition and what was evidently arousal. The assassin's pale gaze lingered appreciatively on his groin, her intention being to mimic his blatant perusal. Then she reached past the tank and hit a switch on the control pad, mounted on the wall. Immediately the translucent kolto began to drain into the grate at the bottom of the tank, back into a vat stored beneath the deck of the medbay. His harness would keep him suspended in midair after the tank had been emptied.
"Try and settle down, little dreamer. I have questions for you."
Erin turned her back on him and strode to the in the center of the room. There were restraints for the wrists, ankles, and even neck. Her work often required her subjects to remain very still- something they were usually not at all inclined to do. She bent to the task of loosening these, preparing the bed for its latest occupant. She chatted amicably as she worked.
"You know, the Remnant is paying quite a bit for your delivery. And they want you alive. Quite a lot of trouble for a smuggler if you ask me, but I can't complain: your bounty will be enough to keep me flying for a very long time."
The assassin returned to the tank, now emptied of its kolto, and flicked another switch on the control pad. With a grating whir, the Captain was hoisted up and out of the tank via his harness, then lowered to the floor beside it. She made no move to subdue him, instead standing a few feet back with her arms folded beneath her breasts. One eyebrow was arched in amusement.
"Get into bed, Galdaart."
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Oct 4, 2013 11:59:43 GMT -8
Galdaart knew what to expect when she reached for, and activated the switch that drained the fluid from the tank. He wasn't yet fully healed, and the weight of his own body once the fluid had drained would cause a great deal of pain, and he tensed against the coming strain and sensation. As the fluid drained past his shoulders Fel spit the rebreather out with some difficulty, the shape of the mouthpiece ensuring a tight fit even for the unconscious, and worked the stiffness from his jaw. At her quip about his size, the smuggler glanced down at himself and shrugged. The fluid had now drained to below his hips, and his muscles tensed against the harness. He stifled a moan as the pain in his shoulder exploded in his mind. Regaining his composure, he shot back.
Never had any complaints before, darlin'.
As Darkwell deposited him on the floor and the harness sagged as his legs took up the weight, Fel was immediately aware of three things: they were in motion -- the feeling under his feet was unmistakable. They were travelling through hyperspace -- it was cold, and the way the ship was moving... Fel would've bet credits to bantha shit they were in hyperspace. And third: He was in better shape physically than he previously gave himself credit for. Yes, the would sites ached, but he'd been out just long enough for the Kolto -- surely it must have been Kolto -- to do its job. Still, he made a show of resting his hands on his knees and 'steadying' himself.
She was talking about his bounty, or something. He wasn't really paying attention.
Get into bed, Galdaart.
He smiled, though there was little emotion behind the eyes, and straightened up.
You gonna join me, Darkwell? Mebbe put those restraints to good use...
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Post by Erin Darkwell on Oct 5, 2013 13:35:39 GMT -8
She smiled politely at his quip and then gestured again for him to move to the table. She followed behind him, still wondering if he would submit or make a bid for freedom. Despite his defiant tone, he seemed to be all out of fight. It was sad, really. The fire she'd seen in his eyes the last time they'd met, when their roles had been reversed...it was still there, but dimmer, somehow. The assassin shook her head. Reading too much into her captive's state of mind was a waste of time.
She busied herself tightening the restraints around Galdaart's wrists and ankles.
"I'm wondering, Galdaart...why were you alone? You had to know how foolish that was."
Genuine curiosity showed in Erin's pale eyes as she stepped back, folding her arms, and waited for a response. It was a long way to Aargau, so she had plenty of time to sate that curiosity before she moved on to topics of more substance...like the location of Wade Connors.
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Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase
Retired High Councilor
Posts: 749
Affiliation: To only a meager few, his motives are his own.
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Post by Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase on Oct 6, 2013 13:12:34 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays. He remained tense, the cryo-door raised to the spawn-beast several meters before him. The woman had retreated to his position - how annoying - thought the Noghri with a low growl, knowing that her fear was sure to attract the attention of the spawn further towards them. The smell of it was too pungent to ignore, and if this was any type of predator; fear would be the first thing it would notice and exploit.
That's what he would do...
"Sstup'd Bakur'n." The Noghri hissed out in a cursing tone to the woman cowering to his right. The Noghri's dark eyes only shifted slightly to the noise. The hiss of pressurized gas and the groaning gasps of another cryo-prisonner coming to. The figure was slumped on the floor several pods away, and though the dim lighting didn't give him much of a sense of how big this person was, he knew that they were human; and male... Good, thought the Noghri as he witnessed the spawn's attention shift towards the new arrival. Maybe this was the chance he'd need? It was unfortunate for the human, but if he kept the thing's attention long enough it might allow the monstrosity to be taken out, and one threat averted.
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Galdaart Fel
Retired High Councilor
...not hiding anymore
Posts: 1,565
Affiliation: The Unfair Advantage
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Post by Galdaart Fel on Oct 6, 2013 17:31:58 GMT -8
Fel lay on the bed willingly enough, moving carefully and quietly. He was willing to play her games, but she'd have to lay some cards on the table as well.
...why were you alone? You had to know how foolish that was.
She had tightened the restraints on his wrists, and was working on his left leg when she asked him, her tone a mixture of pity and curiosity. Anger welled up in him and for the briefest of moments, he wanted to clamp his fist around her neck and wring the life out of her.
Cut the bullshit, and spare me your concern, Darkwell. You know as well as I do, everyone's luck runs out. Been my turn a long time. Time I paid up...
He relaxed against the restraints, and it was only after he'd spoken did he realize he had tensed so violently against them in the first place. Laying his head back against the thin mattress, she smirked, and continued to work on his legs. He could tell she pitied him, could see what she thought of him behind the eyes. He thought of the last time they'd been face to face, but so much had changed.
Cap'n is supposed to lead his boat. Protect and keep his people whole. I made some bad calls in the past, but only ever had myself to patch up. These past months, I've killed more, and seen more killed and lost than I'd care to think about. Lost my way. Only a matter of time before someone caught up to me, brought me to task for what I done. What's left of the crew -- hell, they're better off. Better I die alone than mar a dozen more lives. A mirthless laugh. Hell, there's some who'd say I was never any good at this anyhow.
He looked her in the eye, and there was no fear. Not of what was to come, or what she had in store for him. His gaze told her 'go on then. Do it.' This was a man resigned to his fate, whatever it was to be. If she was very perceptive, she might even have been able to glean that he truly believed he should suffer -- for what exactly, was anyone's guess.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Oct 8, 2013 9:29:40 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP; The Uya; Main Hanger Bay
The shuttle settled down with a deceptively soft thump, then a moment later, a much harder thump. Within moments of the landing ramp lowering, the Operative Alpha of the fire team was on the deck of the hanger, rifle already in hand & sweeping the room. It didn't appear to be occupied. a step behind Alpha was Operative Delta, mirroring Alpha's actions.
Hanging from Alpha's harness was the Pulse-wave, repeating, & flamethrower modules for her OR, with the standard module already attached. Beyond the OR modules, Alpha had a medpac, 30 rounds of ammo for the HAW, a pair shaped breaching mines, & a DC-15s.
-Alpha (on fireteam channel) Beta, Check the far side of shuttle. Gamma, see try to establish a link with the ship's mainframe.
-Alpha (on speaker) Side Clear. No contacts.
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Non-Com Or'dinii
Member
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Affiliation: Mandalorian Clan Or'dinii
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Post by Non-Com Or'dinii on Oct 8, 2013 18:10:57 GMT -8
DIVA's HORROR RP; The Uya; Shuttle on approachThe shuttle settled down with a deceptively soft thump, then a moment later, a much harder thump. Within moments of the landing ramp lowering, the Operative Alpha of the fire team was on the deck of the hanger, rifle already in hand & sweeping the room. It didn't appear to be occupied. a step behind Alpha was Operative Delta, mirroring Alpha's actions.
Hanging from Alpha's harness was the Pulse-wave, repeating, & flamethrower modules for her OR, with the standard module already attached. Beyond the OR modules, Alpha had a medpac, 30 rounds of ammo for the HAW, a pair shaped breaching mines, & a DC-15s.-Alpha (on fireteam channel) Beta, Check the far side of shuttle. Gamma, see try to establish a link with the ship's mainframe.-Alpha (on speaker) Side Clear. No contacts. Delta moved through the hatch and down the ramp sweeping the room with the barrel of his OR, before stepping to one side of the ramp and kneeling to makehimself a morestable shooting platform, to one side of the ramp as Beta and Gamma came out. As Alpha and Beta check and clear both sides of the hangar, with respect to the shuttle, Delta, announces that the aft section, facing the hangar door, is also clear, before rising and moving with Gamma to one of the hangar terminals. There Delta plants his back foot against the wall and sweeps the hangar, side to side and top to bottom, with his OR, taking time to cycle through the various visual enhancements available via his HUD, looking for both threats and signs of survailance. Since this was a Blue Shift Transportation vessel, he knew where the defenses and sensors should be, and so was looking to see if any were active or damaged to better gage the situation in which his team found itself.
His sweeps thus far had not revealed any active threats, so his foccus shifted slightly towards the nearest entrances, as opposed to the room's center or far side, since he trusted Alpha and Beta to cover that portion of the room, and organize the civies that had come aboard with fire team Salamander. Those were a neccessary evil in Delta's eyes, as history had proven that bringing civies into a warzone generally proved fatal to said civies. NOt that Delta was going to complain, that wasn't his place, it just didn't seem tactically sound to his military mind, but then that might be why he was just an operative and not an officer.
Delta-->Room Aft section clear. Gamma, I have your six.
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Krzesimir Viggo
The First Order
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Affiliation: First Order
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Post by Krzesimir Viggo on Oct 8, 2013 19:26:38 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays.
It stopped a moment and steadied itself, then seemed to finally take full notice of the room around it. A low growl emanated from its vocabulator, the sound momentarily plagued with static, and off pitch, but quickly shifted to a more natural sound. Its "brain" processed the numerous biological entities around in the room and labeled them accordingly. The Nohgri received the label Moderate threat, ensuring that it would be interacted with only with extreme caution. The woman cowering behind him earned the label waste, and was thus was monitored only passively. The human man, received incapacitated, re-asses as necessary, and was monitored passively until it began demonstrating capacity to interact with the world. Others in the room received similar tags, each dictating the degree to witch they were monitored for signs of hostility. Temporarily assured of its relative safety, it sought to gather more information on the nearest notable threat, the Noghri.
Kiefta speaking in the Noghri's native tongue, voice masculine, bass, and gravelly: You are not my target, I am no threat to you, unless you prove a threat to me. I am a failed experiment, called Kiefta, who are you and why are you here?
I move to one side of the room, no farther or closer to the noghri, and farther from the man, into a darker portion of the room, so as to be less conspicuous to the others. my tail is poised over my back, in its usual resting point. The concealed blaster cannon in its tip, modeled after those used by the droideka's, allowing for both a rapid fire and a charged shot options, was being slowly tested to be sure it was still in good working order. Also similar to the droideka, I posses an energy shield, though I keep that fact a secret for now, not willing to lay my hand out on the table just yet. I face the noghri for now, though I monitor the entire room with the sensor suite housed in the second to last joint in my tail.
I wasn't considered failed for any reason other than I took a very long time to make sure that everything was going to work out the way I needed it to for mission success. On the few trial runs I was allowed to run at my own pace, I outperformed all opponents with a success rate of 3/3. My closest competitor scored only 8/11, though he did deliver faster, he also caused substantial collateral damage, which counted against him, but he still was chosen over me even when I outperformed him in every area except time to delivery. This time, I would prove them wrong, this time, I would perform perfectly, I was sure of it. Still, having extra cards to is always nice, so I would attempt to gain a few allies in this endeavor, as I was unsure what the mission was. I was built as a sniper, capable of changing the tide of a battle with a few well placed shots, usually from an unexpected vector. I could also serve as a light support vehicle if the need arose, though my performance in that area was incidental to the primary mission.
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Post by Aileen Lasch on Oct 9, 2013 15:51:03 GMT -8
DIVA's HORROR RP; The Uya; Cryobay
As I crouch behind the pod, still tensed and ready to bolt, I see the creature retreat into the darkness on one side of the room. It rasps something I recognize as speech, though I don't understand the language. By the Noghri's expression, I guess he understands it perfectly. I can only take the fact that the creature is talking instead of attacking as a good sign. Steeling my nerves, I slowly stand up, keeping a few paces back from the Noghri, and hold out my empty hands for a moment to show I am unarmed. Still unable to see much of the creature amid the shadows, I peer in its direction and wait, still trembling a bit despite my best efforts.
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Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase
Retired High Councilor
Posts: 749
Affiliation: To only a meager few, his motives are his own.
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Lord Jud'dayus: The Debase on Oct 9, 2013 19:22:16 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays.Kiefta speaking in the Noghri's native tongue, voice masculine, bass, and gravelly: You are not my target, I am no threat to you, unless you prove a threat to me. I am a failed experiment, called Kiefta, who are you and why are you here? The Noghri's harsh face rankled at the creature's rasped words. It had spoken, and it had done so in his native tongue. "Experiment?" The Noghri finally said in his clipped hiss of a language, his dark eyes continuing to follow this Kiefta experiment as it retreated back into the depths of the pod-bay. He didn't loosen his grip on the torn pod-door, or slacken his muscles. He was primed, his every instinct for killing had honed in on this creature, and he would be damned if he'd listen to it. He was Noghri! Not some damned Rodian slug.
"I don't owe you a name or a reason..." He hissed out to Kiefta, in his native tongue. "I know about as much as you." He admitted with a huff, before turning towards the Bakurian woman; who'd finally gotten to her feet. "...And I know she doesn't know anything either, but the male." He tilted his head towards the slumped figure several pods over. "I haven't questioned him yet."
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Krzesimir Viggo
The First Order
Posts: 360
Affiliation: First Order
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Krzesimir Viggo on Oct 9, 2013 23:11:10 GMT -8
Diva's Horror RP: The Uya; Cryobays.
Kiefta processed the information as quickly as he received it, and his focus shifted to the man on the floor, though he maintained a careful observation of the Noghri. He was pleased that a member of such a well renowned species was taking him seriously, both as a being and a competitor. He offered no further comment on the situation, but instead began to study the room around him with what precious attention he could spare from watching the ever cautious Noghri. A series of rattles and hissing marked the shifting of his armored skin, as he settled into a kind of crouch over the cool floor, minimizing the flesh exposed to his neighbors and further decreasing his profile. His genetically modified sweat glands also began emitting a kind of pheromone, not like the Falleen or Zeltrons, but one that mimicked the scents around him slowly masking his stench; and he realized that he would need to find sustenance for his organic parts soon, if he wanted to remain fully functional.
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