Hoth's Open Orbit

A seemingly odd looking smirk crossed the Barabel's incisor filled maw. Mandalorian Vizsla, Whitefangs and a rogue hunter? This was going to be very interesting, to say the least. Gripping the yoke, the Barabel piloted the craft down to the surface...

Surging forward out of hyperspace, the Fang Fighter belonging to Brayark Vizsla exited hyperspace above the iceball that was Hoth. Piloting the craft towards the planet, Brayark spoke to the droid that was crammed behind his seat. Give me the location of the nearest Whitefang pack and any other relevant information on them. Who else has been assigned here? Should I be prepared to face multiple hunters? Basic questions that were not relevant until now. Hopefully the droid would give him satisfactory answers. Otherwise it might find itself buried under a snowbank while he continued to hunt.

Processing the information he had just received, Brayark began to formulate a plan of attack. While outright killing of other competitors was against the rules, putting them in life threatening situation was not. Therefore, he could interfere with Erpon's hunt, claim this bounty and extract his prize from this frozen wasteland and be on to his next objective shortly. "Be silent, droid." Was all he said as he piloted his ship down through Hoth's surface, heading for the North Ridge region...

A small brown blot appeared on an otherwise white orb of densely packed snow, practically little more than a smudge compared to the endless ocean of ice that served as its backdrop, yet there it was. If one looked closely enough, it was less a blot and more a flying boat. In fact it was a space faring vessel, the very same that had been based out on the surface for the last few weeks. The Fairwind style vessel 'Lack of Faith II' emerged from the atmosphere and took to the black of the void, gliding soundlessly towards the asteroid field that spread all the way from Hoth to Bespin. Aboard the unique vessel, deep within its wooden hull, the crew was hard at work preparing for the hunt to come.

Back on Juvex they had accepted a contract to hunt and kill a rogue exogorth that had been harassing transport ships that used the system as a midway point between light speed jumps. The creature had left a sea of wreckage in its wake, earning the space slug the name 'Ship Breaker'.

Bey Kahn sat on a bridge chair, snoring with his feet up on the dash, ignorant of how close they were. Chestnut, his ewok first mate, walked over to the captain and gave his green legs a shove. The old boar practically fell out of his seat, stumbling out of the chair and landing on a knee before catching himself with a hand on the console in front of him. Startled, he blinked the confusion from his head and looked over at his grinning second. Chestnut shrugged and pointed at the view screen.

"We're just about there. You might want to put your space suit on."

While on the surface of Hoth collecting collapsium for the seismic charges they had constructed, some of the female members of the crew had mended together a number of space suits meant for ewoks or tynnans into something the gamorrean could actually wear. What would have done for one ewok crew member required at least six suits for the fat gamorrean, and it was still a fairly tight fit.

Yeah, I suppose. Grumbled Bey, groaning as he got to his feet and then left the bridge. He wouldn't be needed there anyways. His job was up top on the deck exposed to the cold vacuum of space. Chestnut wasn't as capable a bridge commander as ol'Tarfang had been, but he was the best they had in his absence. Certainly better than Bey Kahn anyways.

Location: Hoth System - Asteroid Field

From the turbulent tides of darkspace, two large near oblong shapes exited lightspeed travel, slipping into the system like a pair of hunting bissop with the scent of fresh prey. In this case that prey was millions of densely packed balls of rock and ice that harried the planet and hampered hyperspace travel on occasion. For the duo of miid ro'ik warships, it was nothing more than food and fuel. Their arrival placed them closer to the asteroid field than the planet, though a few hundred kilometers was a short distance to cover for ships capable of interstellar travel, should there be a need. The first among the organic craft was the 'Praetorite Command', one of the very first vessels crafted by an army of shapers dedicated to the bio-engineering arts. The second, a near enough clone of the first, was the 'Echo of Damnation', one of the last vessels to leave the shipwomb at Tur Yenagh before the seed world departed the galaxy without word and left the reborn Praetorite Vong to fend for themselves in a cruel galaxy that despised them.

Dovin basals manipulated the forces of gravity, edging both prowling warships ever closer to the dangerous field, while beginning to select targets for resource extraction. The war coordinator, a yammosk known as 'Betty' aboard the Praetorite Command, oversaw this collection like some form of organic super computer. Gravity was its to command through use of the dovin basals, which it used like an extension of itself to reach out to the field and begin plucking natural satellites, pulling them out of their orbit and towards the two warships. Arrest tentacles emerged from slits in the sides of the yorik coral covered hulls and grappled with the small asteroids pulled into reach, drawing them into the hull where they were broken down and devoured.

It had been a risk, not refueling before traveling deeper into the heart of infidel space, but expediency in this instance took precedence over caution. Nem of Domain Yin, the heart and soul of the reborn Praetorite, had been summoned to Coruscant by the Emperor of the First Order. Though in many ways his past actions in operation against the Sith Empire had helped lead to the birth of this new Imperial empire, it was against his better nature to trust too deeply. Thus it had been deemed appropriate to bring along the two largest ships in the Praetorite's fleet, to be unleashed if treachery was afoot. Besides, while it had been a calculated risk it was a rather small one at that. It was why he had chosen the Hoth system of all places to serve as a staging ground for the fleet to organize and resupply. It was out of the way, off the beaten path as the infidels liked to say.

Striding through the halls of the Praetorite Command on the way to the bridge, were a pair of Yuuzhan Vong that shared a commonality, they were both members of the notorious Domain Yin. The first was the Executor, Nem, who took a deep swig of a bladder flask as he casually strutted, dripping sparkbee honey from an open mouth filled with yellow pointed teeth that sprung from black gums. The grey corpse like pallor of his scarred flesh appeared unusually sinister in the lambent light of the hall, as black veins strewn beneath his tattooed flesh seemed to writhe like worms. His bald head was bare, revealing a sloped forehead, stub like nose, and pointed ears. Dark purple eye sacs bulged beneath mqaaq'it ocular implants that glowed a faint green, another mark of the illustrious domain to which he belonged. The first organ graft every member of Domain Yin recieved was the removal and replacement of their original eyes with the visually enhanced mqaaq'it, which also had the unusual trait of changing colour based upon an individual's mood. Droplets of the narcotic liquid dripped down his chin, soiling the glossy black cloaker bodysuit he wore from toe to neck like a layer of second skin. A long coat of robeskin swished about behind him as he walked, adding to the swagger of the Vong Reaver.

Next to Nem was Alith Yin, the current Commander of the Praetorite Command. Where Nem was thoughtful and calculating, Alith was bold and brash. The younger member of Domain Yin was garbed in a robeskin skirt that covered his lower half, while he chest was shirtless and bare, save for a pair of clip beetles piercing his ashen nipples. Bracers of vonduun skerr kyrric garbed his muscular arms, which he held down at his side as he walked in a more military fashion than the Executor. Alith had been promoted to Commander of the vessel, an unusual thing for a member of the Intendant caste, but a more frequent occurrence for a post-war Yuuzhan Vong. Evolve or die, as they say. The younger Yuuzhan Vong prodded the Executor with an elbow, motioning for him to share his wealth of sparkbee honey. Nem rolled his mqaaq'it and handed over the bladder-flask as they passed through the hatch-sphincter leading to the bridge.

"This still feels like a mistake." Said Alith after imbibing a good portion of the Executor's personal brew. Nem snarled and grabbed the bladder-flask back, scowling as he hefted it in his palm and noticed how light it had gotten. He fixed the Commander of the vessel with an annoyed look only decipherable to another member of their race. "I don't want to hear it. The decision has been made and it is final." That would have been enough explanation for a member of any other domain, but those that belonged to Domain Yin had been bred to be inquisitive, they didn't accept anything easily. "But..."

"Enough!" Nem's mqaaq'it beamed an angry red. He turned on the Commander and stared him down as they neared the massive blazebug display that dominated the bridge area. Foul breath assailed Alith's nostrils as the angered Intendant faced his fellow. "What we do is a necessity for the survival of our race. There are so few of us left, Alith, we are shadows of an empire that will never be reclaimed. While I am content for it to remain so, some steps are still necessary to buy our people the time they need to heal. The psychological effect of fifteen thousand years of war and bloodshed is not something that can easily be erased in a generation, or even several. Time, that is what this alliance brings us. Time to heal, to become something other than arbiters of death on a crusade that was nothing more than a lie." Fighting down the fury built in his chest, the Executor let out a hot breath and calmed himself. His ocular implants turned a cool blue as his anger receded. He placed a bare hand with long pointed fingernails on the Commander's naked shoulder. "We may have traded in a Supreme Overlord for an Emperor, but through these negotiations, I will create a path for us that will no longer require young Yuuzhan Vong barely out of the crèche to lay down their lives fighting for a false prophecy."

Appearing solemn, the Executor watched the blazebug readout as Betty coordinated the gathering of resources from the asteroid field.

Alliance engineer Ragan Suulk had his flippers full as he coordinated incoming transports and tugs arriving in the system. From the bridge of the Mossflower, he more or less single handedly overseeing the construction of an Alliance Space Station in orbit. Resources were tight so and allies still few and far between, which meant they made do with a lot of antiquated technology, much of it dating back to the Clone Wars era. Nothing this Mon Calamari can't figure out, he so he thought. Using the EF76 Nebulon-B's tractor beam projectors they were able to move some of the larger pieces into place, while techs in vacuum suits and zero-g rigs plasma welded sections together, sealing each so that they could be pressurized with atmosphere. It was slow going but the future Mon Mothma Station was beginning to take form.


Meanwhile a GR-75 launched from the surface, passing by the construction site in orbit as it headed for the nearest hyperlane and made a lightspeed jump towards the core, carrying rebel Drenlin Vortek on his mission to the Incom corporation.