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Post by Shaman Anaxilea on Mar 3, 2013 8:39:20 GMT -8
Cartann City was the capital city of Cartann, the most powerful of the planet Adumar's nation states. It was also the largest city on the planet. Cartann City had a stratified structure, with the poor workers living below ground. Its skylanes were filled with comm cables, clustered at various altitudes with wide gaps between them so that starfighters may pass through easily. |
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on Jun 5, 2013 14:03:12 GMT -8
David Brightsky walked quickly through the half-deserted alleyways and side-streets of south Cartann City, bumping shoulders with the poor and the indigent who smelled of bad breath and broken dreams. Cartann City was a massive city, tens of millions of citizens crammed into dozens of kilometers of sprawling city-scape, with the rich inhabiting the spires and top floors of the newest skyscrapers, filled with consumer goods imported from across the galaxy. Their holonets were always on, news and entertainment filtered in from Coruscant and across the Republic and Confederation. Meanwhile, down in the lowest levels of the city, where the starlight and sunlight was blotted out by buildings, communications wires, and low-flying fighters and aerocars, the poor scraped by on whatever they could find. Down here, the stars seemed to be unreachable. The gap between the richest and the poorest citizens was widening by the day, and down here Brightsky could see it getting worse, not better. Former duelists and fighter pilots wandered the streets while their former commanders and partners reaped the benefits of trade with the Confederation. A crew of these poor and indigent could rule the galaxy, if given the right opportunity.
Brightsky continued his musings as he walked towards the glowing neon sign of the "Double-10's Cantina," the best place in south Cartann City for a quick game of Pazaak or for the latest gossip among the freighter pilots of the system. He walked through the doors and into the smoke filled bar. In the back, a few pazzak tables were set up, a Rodian and someone in old Mandalorian battle armor were playing what looked to be a close game, while two Mon Calamarians placed side bets. Brightsky pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the smoke for a moment before exhaling it, tipping his head up to blow it towards the ceiling, an old good luck habit of his when he entered the Double 10. He walked to the bar, where a Wookie was taking drink orders.
"One Corelian whiskey, neat," said Brightsky as he continued to smoke the Mandalorian cigarette he had received from the commandos back on the star destroyer.
The Wookie nodded and gave a grunt as he filled the small tumbler with the amber liquid and slid it down to Brightsky. He took a quick sip of the liquid which pleasantly warmed his throat as it slid down his gullet. He threw down a pile of credits, the drink was expensive to be sure, but it was the best whiskey in the galaxy and it was worth the 20 credits. He downed the rest and motioned for another. As he did, an older looking man sat down at the bar stool next to him.
"Keep ordering them like that and you might as well order the whole damn bottle," the old man said to him in a sarcastic voice.
"You keep telling me what to do, and I'll bust the bottle over your head!" Brightsky said to the older man, chuckling as he swiveled the stool to meet the man's extended hand.
"Good to see you again Brightsky," said the older man.
"Ric, it's been too long," said Brightsky gripping Ric's hand and pumping it a few times. They laughed together and walked over to a table in the back. Brightsky put his drink on the table and put one foot up on the old wooden table as well.
"So, what's this about you retiring Ric?" Brightsky asked.
"Oh come on David, I'm too far past my prime to keep kidding myself that I can operate a freighter like the Pride of Cartann at my age. Besides, I should have done this years ago," Ric explained as he took a drink of his Circuit Cider.
"So what are you going to do now to fill the days? Sit at the bar and play hands of pazaak until you've gambled your savings away?" Brightsky asked.
"I figure that I've got enough credits squirreled away that I can afford to retire nearer to the rim, maybe even on Coruscant," said Ric.
"Oh come on Ric, you retiring on Coruscant?" Brightsky exclaimed.
"Stranger things have happened," said Ric.
The two friends sat quietly for a few moments taking in the scenery of the bar. Ric had been the first to hire Brightsky on after he left the Alliance fighter corps. He had been the person who sold him his first freighter, along with giving him his first few jobs. As far as David was concerned, he owed most of his current jobs in part to Ric.
"So David, I hear that you lost your new corvette to the Mando blockade?" Ric asked pointedly.
"I wouldn't call it lost so much as...temporarily re-appropriated for repairs," replied Brightsky.
"Nice use of euphemism to describe deep space theft," Ric said jokingly.
"Not much I can do right now Ric. The GALSAF stuck a few commandos on my freighter to escort me back to Adumar, make sure that I don't pull any funny stuff. I promised to come back and run supplies for them and their blockade. I figured that I could at least make some hefty credits, get some credibility with a mercenary group, and get that corvette repaired for half the price of bringing it back here to Adumar," explained Brightsky.
"Don't give me that line of bantha dung David, I've heard the rumors. You dropped into the Mando blockade by accident and got your ship taken by the GALSAF who backed you into a corner and made you agree to the smuggling gig for no promise of a return," said Ric.
"Not much I could have done," said Brightsky.
The two sat again in silence for a moment. He was still bitter over the experience with the GALSAF, but he knew that they could be a vehicle to some good credits and upkeep for his ships. Ric pushed all the right buttons in the right order, and David was seething mentally.
"What if I told you that I could point you in the right direction to get you a real ship, the type of ship that ensure that you never have to deal with this ever again," said Ric.
"What, do you have a star destroyer hidden away somewhere that you never told me about?" Asked Brightsky.
"No, but I've got a set of coordinates that you might just find interesting," said Ric as he slid a small datapad across the table to Brightsky. He picked it up and flipped through the data for a few minutes.
"You've got to be kidding me," said Brightsky.
"On any other day you'd be right, but I know you're in a tough bind with the GALSAF and need a bargaining chip, this'll ensure that you never have to deal with those strong-arm tactics ever again," said Ric.
"Ric, these are the coordinates to an abandoned Venator-Class Star Destroyer, where the hell did you get these?" Brightsky asked.
"I got those about forty years ago, before Adumar even rejoined the galactic community, back when I was still flying out of Bastion. I was way out in uncharted wild space, trying to keep to myself when I came across an imperial task force. They were dumping old ships from the Clone Wars and using them for target practice. I watched them dump about five Venator destroyers out there, four of them destroyed and the fifth was left in tact. This thing was brand new, just off the production line from Kuat. It still had the old Republic paint job and everything. I guarantee that ship is still out there waiting for someone to come by and pick it up," said Ric.
"Really, and how do you guarantee that?" Said Brightsky.
"Because I was out that away about ten years ago and it was still there. By that time, I was too old to try to salvage the damn thing myself. If you get that ship, Brightsky, that's your ticket to the big leagues. It's a one-day trip from here and if I were you, I'd hop to it," said Ric.
"How come you never told me about this before," Brightsky asked. He had known Ric for five years and he had never before told him about this ship. He needed to be sure that Ric was not leading him on some wild chase for some phantom ship.
"I always intended on going out there and salvaging it myself. But, considering that I've retired now, and the trouble you got yourself into the GALSAF, I figured now was as good a time as any to pass the secret on and let you do something with it. You've been a good friend Brightsky, one of the best I've had in this life. You deserve a better life than you've been given, and hopefully this ship is the ticket to that better life," said Ric.
Brightsky was touched. Ric was one of his oldest and dearest friends, one of the few people to give him a leg up in life. He owed him, and the fact that Ric was giving him the location of a ship like this was a sign that he was indeed retired and leaving the planet, possibly for good.
Brightsky stood up and finished off his drink.
"I'll bring her home Ric, you'll see," said Brightsky as he left the bar. He had a mission.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jul 8, 2013 11:03:49 GMT -8
Eralam had always wanted to visit Adumar. He couldn't quite remember why it had taken him so long to do so. A culture that glorified martial skill both in the air and on the ground? What's not to love. Sure, he wouldn't want to live there, as some of the more primitive facets of the society grated on his nerves, but the place was great for a visit. He had already purchased his first blastsword. It was a lovely, elegant weapon that was far different from the popular style favored by most Adumari swordsmen. Instead of a sturdy saber, it was based on the espada ropera, though for simplicity's sake, we'll call it a rapier from here on out.
The blade is blued to blackness, etched with elegant silvery scrollwork across its surface. The blasting tip, instead of the usual broad aperture, is a much more focused though less powerful emitter concealed behind a quite functional stabbing tip that opens on hidden hinges when called upon. And naturally, it's being called upon as we speak.
The Shard found himself on the wrong end of a few less artistically designed blastswords, on account of an honest answer to a rather dimwitted question made by the popular fellow in the middle of the gang. The damn things would be less than useless against him, but he was still determined to avoid bloodshed if possible. Less paperwork that way.
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor 
Posts: 462 
Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Sept 20, 2013 15:19:09 GMT -8
Taung walked into a local bar and lounge, or rather up to it, the Adumarian fascination with fighter craft lent itself all the way into their architecture...meaning the parking levels were higher than normal. He wasnt wearing his armor, but he did carry a beskad on his hip...powered swords seemed to also be all the rage, but not blasters, which he had several concealed underneath his clothes and boots. He wasnt looking for trouble, just seeing what the planet had to offer.
He paused upon finally entering and gave a look around, trying to decide whether to eat at the bar or at a booth.
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 229 
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Syren on Sept 20, 2013 15:33:28 GMT -8
*At the bar hunched a shape, that could roughly be contrived as a person. It had a drink clutched close to what would be the head region and some kind of claw, covered in what might have been leather, curled protectively around the cup. The bar tender seemed to keep a wary eye focused on the cloaked and coweled individual, occasionally moving to refill the glass but not get too close.
The person smelled of fish, or at least fresh from the ocean. The bartender was worried that it might put off customers and so made a comment. The lump of ragged cloth moved and muttered as it shifted off the stool, sounding vaguely feminine.
Syren lumbered back to the refresher to freshen up a bit, but managed to steer herself directly in to the path of a Mandalorian just entering the bar.*
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor
Posts: 462
Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Sept 20, 2013 15:37:54 GMT -8
Taung could not help but notice the being, she had stepped right in front of him after all. If he was going to make an impression all round, the quickest way to do it was...well, make an impression. He made a deliberate move to present himself to her.
"Excuse me, is the stuff they serve in here any good?"
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 229
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Syren on Sept 20, 2013 15:44:06 GMT -8
*Syren grunted at the man. A shrug seemed to run across her whole body when she finally realized that the question was directed at her.*
"If you want to get fucked up."
*She shuffled around the Mandalorian and sat at a table. The glass of drink had a distinctive neon blue tone radiating from its depths.*
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor
Posts: 462
Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Sept 20, 2013 15:47:16 GMT -8
Taung's eyebrows went up, he liked her. He sat down opposite her and indicated for the bartender to bring four of the drink in front of her to the table.
"Sounds good to me. What are we getting smashed for. Whatever it is I promise I will drink to it."
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 229
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Syren on Sept 20, 2013 16:01:37 GMT -8
*Syren took a slug from her glass.*
"The end of the world." *She shrugged again.* "Do you need a reason to have a drink?"
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor
Posts: 462
Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Sept 20, 2013 19:12:37 GMT -8
"Good enough!"
He downs one of the drinks in front of him and coughs slightly as the...whatever it was, hit his throat.
"No, but its more fun that way somehow."
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Jul 25, 2014 15:16:26 GMT -8
An old temple sat surrounded by glittering buildings in Cartann, its walls the only divide. Large arches opened up the walls to the inner property, all paths leading to the temple. Taera leaned against the wall of a building across from an arch, a silver and wooden pipe in her mouth. Fragrant curls of smoke drifted up past her two-toned hair as she stared at the temple. Two years, she'd wandered the galaxy aimless, purposeless after the sudden death of her master. She'd fought, gambled, stole, and nothing could drive out the emptiness left. Taera scowled and folded her arms across her chest, the sleeves of her white coat somehow spotless even after all she'd done. Laele had given her purpose, ambition, a taste of life with power. And took it all away when she died. Taera hated that the Chiss woman had changed her life so much with so few words spoken. She'd been content with her ideas of freedom before but now she knew that her life could be so much more. And it was empty. But the temple changed things. A darkness brooded there, as thick and tangible as the power Laele once had. Dormant, but not dead and whether sentient or relic, that darkness could help her reclaim some of her sanity and dignity.
Taera dumped out the ashes from her pipe, wiped the inside out with a silk handkerchief of blood red color, and pocketed the item before pushing herself off the wall. Slow even strides brought her past the arch and up to the temple. She gestured with her hand, a slight movement of two fingers, and the doors opened for her silently. The two years by herself had seen her Force skills improved. At least she had done that much. A thick layer of dust muffled her boots as she walked through the halls, the Force leading her to the source of the darkness. Past empty halls, grand chambers, she ventured deeper into the bowels of the temple. In a dark, dusty chamber, the source of the power emanated from a cryo-tube. Frost covered the glass, obscuring the occupant. Taera fingered one of the lightsabers at her waist as she studied the tube. Who knew how long the sentient had been inside there. It could very well rip her limb from limb as soon as it woke. But gaining whatever knowledge the being inside could pass on was worth the risk. She unclipped the slender bronzium hilt, preferring the Rubat's precision over the Firkrann's brute strength, then started working on the control panel for the cryo-tube. Lights blinked and the cryo-tube hissed as it ended the sleep cycle. Taera took a few paces back and tightened her grip on her lightsaber.
Wake up she thought. Give me your secrets.
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Jul 25, 2014 20:41:48 GMT -8
Taera didn't know what she was expecting to fall out of the tube but a giant twi'lek wasn't it. She studied him, this source of darkness. "Apparently preparedness doesn't count for much in your books. Are you a Sith?"
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Jul 28, 2014 10:16:53 GMT -8
"Hardly. I don't put effort into reviving dead things to kill them again," she said. As he remedied his state of undress, Taera quickly studied the twisted and arcane tattoos on his chest before the dark robes covered them. What did they mean, she wondered. She hooked her lightsaber back on her belt and took a nonchalant stance. "Teach me then, if you are Sith."
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Jul 30, 2014 15:38:17 GMT -8
That grin immediately put her on guard. She shifted her weight to her right foot, her hand tense with the desire to draw as he walked forward. She sneered.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm your reviver," she said. His questions had been expected, to some extent—Laele had demanded something similar—so she kind of had an answer. Kind of. She felt off-balance though from his studious gaze. It felt too familiar. Like he was looking at a piece of meat instead of a sentient with a mind and will of its own. "I can offer snark, quick learning, and determination, among sarcastic comments and ambitions of my own."
She let his other question go unanswered. He had guessed and he could certainly deduce correctly the answer to his own question; a response was unnecessary. If he really wanted an answer then she'd be forced to oblige him. After all, she'd heard that showing was better than telling.
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Jul 30, 2014 19:05:29 GMT -8
Huh. That was easy. Taera relaxed a little, enough to take the tension out of her hand. Muscle cramps hurt like a motherfucker. He was quick to put her on edge and then to back off; dangerous. She'd certainly be kept on her toes. His terms were less terms and more business contract. Which she could live with. Contracts had an end. And loopholes. Which could be fun.
She shrugged, holding his gaze. "Sure."
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Aug 3, 2014 17:35:50 GMT -8
He would ask for those. Taera snorted and flipped a hand contemptuously. "Clearly you know nothing of the Firrerro to ask for my name. My last master called me Green Eyes. I have no issue with that name."
Subtly, she shifted her weight so that most of her weight was on her front leg. "But if you want my sabers, you'll have to take them. I know better than to hang around krayts unarmed."
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Taera
Member
Let's have some fun, this beat is sick...
Posts: 21
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Post by Taera on Aug 25, 2014 16:48:27 GMT -8
One moment Taera stood on solid ground. Then her back and head collided with a stone wall. She dropped to the floor, barely catching herself and wheezing. Stars danced in front of her eyes as she struggled to regain her breath.
"Fuck . . . you," she said. The bruising she'd received on impact began to fade and the throbbing in her skull dulled. She pushed herself off the floor, titanium hilt in hand. The blade snap-hissed to life and electricity wound about it. "Fuck you, I did not fucking lose almost everything just to lose one more fucking thing!"
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Post by Ghôsh Windu on Feb 1, 2016 12:06:55 GMT -8
Azaia's Transport landed on a platform sitting high on a skyscraper close to the outskirts of the city, Psi had secured her a beautiful rooftop castle that once belong to a noble family of Adumar that had seen many of their bloodline bore the title of Perator of Cartann and a few Perator of Adumar the last of their bloodline was an old man name Anthony La Don who had been abandoned by his household over the years, and seen all his children killed in duel after duel and starfighter race after race, with nothing left Psi offer of gold and revenge on the nobility and the corrupted Adumar Union was a sweet deal to him, he would claim Azaia as he daughter with a servant girl of his household, this would be Azaia way in to the high society of Abumar. Azaia 200 troopers were accompanied by a household of servants who got to work getting the castle fortified and filling its quite halls with life again, , Azaia found the old man Sir Anthony La Don sitting on balcony in a throne overlooking the countryside of Adumar a middle age Korunnai woman stood by his side refilling his glass of sweet milk and honey, Anthony was bald with a long gray beard and dark green eyes his nobility gave him a statue of importance even in his old Azaia stood in front him
Azaia: Father I am Azaia your daughter, I have come to sit you on the throne of Cartann the your nephew now claims
Anthony: how sweet that sounds daughter but it is you who will sit on the throne, I am too old for the duels so we must seduce my nephew from the throne before you kill him and wipe out the entire bloodline of the Teldan
Azaia: this is a new plan father
Anthony: this is a plan much more inline with the culture of Cartann, we must recruit soldiers among the Adumar, and prepare for your ball
Azaia: Ball?
Anthony : we must introduce you nobility as a daughter of house La Don, and show a renewed strength, my nephew lacks a wife and the other nations are plotting to remove him from power, and I was told you where skilled with a sword,
Azaia: I am,
Anthony: then you will kill the leaders to the other Adumar Union nations at this Ball, for they are my nephews greatest enemies, it will force him to take you on as his wife
Azaia: wont that lead to civil war?
Anthony: no duels are away of our people, Psi has already began work securing the favor of ruling councils of each of those nations, they will delay the election of new Perators until we have secured power here, without Preators no nation will able by law to go to war, or have enough to rally a civil war.
Azaia thought about Anothony change to the original plan Psi had told her to let him take the lead on this operation for altho he was old he had been plotting this revenge for a long time and understood the political atmosphere currently at play, Azaia would act as Anothony's tool she felt in the force that his plan would fast accomplish her goal, plus taking a husband would piss of her current husband who she was mad at *
Azaia: very well father I shall make sure all is in order for the ball
*Azaia left Anthony on the balcony as she headed to find her room*
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Post by Thomas Blackwall [Retired] on Apr 15, 2018 10:46:07 GMT -8
Blackwall and Jester had entered the outskirts of Cartann City without any issues. The few civilians they encountered either eyed them warily, or disappeared from sight quickly. The tension in the air was thick. Something big was going down. Bigger than the original intel reports would have indicated. Glancing skyward, he noticed a fleet of ships now hanging in low orbit over the city. Wonderful, he thought to himself. That would complicate things significantly. However, with the Resurgent, captained by High Admiral Petrovsky, in orbit, he was fairly certain that it was the bigger threat to the newly arrived fleet than a handful of Stormtroopers wandering the city was. Motioning Jester to move up to an alleyway, Blackwall followed. No sooner had he reached the cover of the alley, blaster fire rang out, peppering their location.
"Contact! Alliance soldiers, ten o'clock! Weapons free. Fire at will!"
Crouching low, Blackwall popped up from cover and sighted in on the nearest soldiers. Letting loose a burst from his rifle, the enemy soldiers ducked down behind cover opposite them. Jester, leaning against the wall off to his right, peered out and fired as well. As the small skirmish continued, Blackwall opened the all team frequency.
"Castle Lead to Castle Two. We've encountered hostiles. Uniforms indicate Alliance Black Ops. Stay alert. Overwatch, you got that? Keep an eye out for anyone getting curious about our LZ."
As Blackwall was about to pop out of cover and spray blaster bolts at the Alliance soldiers, the Conquered Star contacted him.
Star Actual to Fireteam Castle. Alliance ships have settled in over Cartann. The High Admiral is launching a response. Stay on mission. Will update after we have initiated contact.
Firing several shots at the Alliance soldiers, dropping one, Blackwall replied.
"Heard and acknowledged, Star Actual. Proceeding with our objectives. Blackwall out."
Motioning to Jester to get his attention, he spoke.
"We don't have time for this. Pop some smoke and let's disengage!"
With a short nod from Jester, he lowered his rifle, plucked a smoke grenade from his belt, primed it and flung it out into the street. With a loud POP! the grenade went off and thick grey smoke billowed out of the canister. As the cloud of smoke began to obscure the battlefield, Blackwall sprang up from cover, signaled to Jester, and sprinted down the alley, away from the Alliance soldiers. Hopefully that would slow them down enough to give Blackwall and Jester time to put some distance between them. Though Blackwall had the feeling this was just the beginning of a tough mission...
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Post by Chase Hargrave [Retired] on Apr 16, 2018 11:04:22 GMT -8
Standing on the bridge of the Infinitium, Vice Admiral Hargrave observed the reports now coming in. It would seem that there was already a handful of Stormtroopers within the city limits. Most likely an advance recon force, scouting ahead of the main group. So far, the engagement was on the city outskirts, no where near the Industrial District. Which mean he had time to maneuver. As his most trusted Sergeant appeared on the bridge, he waved the man over.
"Sergeant Slattery, I need you to lead our forces on the front lines. Keep the First Order distracted enough that we can secure our objective and extract it before they find it. I'm counting on your skills as a leader on the battlefield to keep them busy."
Nodding, Slattery spoke.
"Understood sir. You can count on us, we'll get the job done. And we'll give the First Order something to think about, while we do it."
With a small, forced smile, Hargrave clasped the man's shoulder.
"No heroics today, James. Keep the First Order busy. So long as we keep this a ground game, I can hold the First Order off. Should they decide to engage us with that Resurgent...well, you don't need me to tell you what happens if that becomes the case..."
Slattery nods.
"Yes sir."
With a nod, he motioned for Slattery to proceed with his assignment. As Slattery gathered a team and prepared for his assignment, the Alliance ships began landing troops, supplies and support vehicles near the eastern edge of the city, digging in and creating a defensive line to greet the First Order advance. Utilizing several AT-AP's, a handful of AV-7 Antivehicle Cannons, AAC-2 Hovertanks, TX-130 Saber-Class Fighter Tanks and a large amount of various speeders retrofitted for combat, the Alliance was prepared to hold the line against the First Order in order to complete their objective first. Hopefully it would be enough...though Hargrave had a feeling that this was merely the beginning of a long struggle. Watching the holotable light up with friendly IFF tags as units were being deployed, Hargrave motioned to the armored soldier standing off to the side, out of sight. The soldier was @specops , the current leader of the Alliance's version of Havoc Squad, a fabled and legendary team of Spec Ops commandos. Having known the man for several years and having served with him for just as long, Hargrave trusted no one else to get to their objective. Motioning to the table, he highlighted the munitions factories.
"Major. I'm not going to lie, we've stepped in it deep here. Our chances of success are slim at best. Even with Sergeant Slattery working on the front lines, we still need to get to the factory and secure those armaments for the Alliance. Our reserves are running low and our factories are maxed to capacity trying to rearm out troops and ships, should the First Order rear its ugly head once more. I need you to get to the factory and secure your objective. I'll keep a team of my best pilots on standby to extract you and your men once you complete your mission. Any questions?"
Knowing that the man would have approached the table by now and would be reviewing the information they had available, he would be formulating some sort of strategy. Hargrave looked up at the armored trooper, waiting to see if he had any questions or concerns.
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