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Storyteller

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  1. P E A K As one of few docking bays still functional on the Hexa, hangar bay 355 served as an empty dock to check ships which had been swallowed in by a tractor beam. Outside access to the docking bay was granted by these same tractor beams. If a ship tried to depart with the tractor beams active, the beam would again drag it back into the air-dock, but functionalities ran amiss ship-wide. Air-dock 355 had interior emergency repulsor-fields to deal with damaged vessels. The tractor beams were used to guide craft that had either lost power to their engines or directional thrusters, while emergency generators flooded the bay with repulsor-field cushioning for any disengagements. The walls and decks, likewise, were lined with various power cell charger sockets that were now disabled or leaking electricity loosely. The deck itself had directional markings etched into it that were softly illuminated to guide ships toward a safe resting place, some of which were now peeled from their roots by Darth Awenydd. Unlike all hangars and docking bays on the Hexa, 355 maintained a control room beneath the air-dock, once staffed by a team that monitored the approach and departure of all craft into and out of the hangar, of which normally included a complete staff of maintenance personnel, emergency medical teams, flight support personnel, and droids. The control team also supplied reports to their commanding officers, and in turn issued orders to those in the hangar. The control room contained sensor relays, flight-tracking screens, ship-to-ship communication capabilities, tractor beam and repulsor-lift controls, and consoles for regulating the magnetic field that still protected from the vacuum of space. It also housed computer consoles that could access data and monitor other areas of the Hexa. Similar to other docking bays, racks of blaster rifles were positioned close to a room's doorway so as to ensure the crew would have quick access to weapons in the event of infiltration, and as such it also held various security supplies, which included binders to secure prisoner traffic during their escort to the detention levels. Accessing the control room from the hangar itself was nearly impossible, but once the team from inside activated the dedicated repulsor-lift, the middle of the hangar would open up to allow entry. The control room's consoles included monitors for displaying data regarding various vehicles, personnel and the general status inside the adjoining hangar, as well as schematics for almost every area inside the Hexa, as well as a built-in com-link that allowed the control room officers to communicate with other personnel stationed aboard the Dauntless-class prison barge. Docking Bay 355 was one of the locations that the Crusaders and Cabals had first docked with, ensuring a struggle for dominance and command. The vessel had worn itself out from the inside, and days later, the Sith Empire would arrive. Imperial troops held intelligence to know that this was no ordinary ship, and a search that had since yielded nothing but the remnants of battle ensued. A reconnaissance crew was sent in, searching for items and people of high value, regardless of what obstacles stood in the way. The scanning crew never completed their search of the ship for they were met with an obstacle too grand for splintered battalions; the original crew had been wiped, while the Emerald Cabal searched just as vigilantly as they did, eating their way through the opposing forces that stood in their way, enchanted by a fervor unlike their own. During this time, the officer in charge of the docking bay's control team was Lieutenant Corso, an officer of the search team. Unfortunately, they faced a demise at the hands of a simple mercenary. One that the Cabal themselves had underestimated. "GREETINGS. GREETINGS.. I AM YOUR HOST, CONSTRUCT 0854329-ERR. (SOUND CUTS OUT. STATIC) ERR- I AM YOUR HOST, PRISM. PLEASE EVACUATE THE HEXA AT YOUR NEAREST CONVENIENCE. THIS FACILITY IS HOME TO CRIMINALS FROM ACROSS OUR GALACTIC SPACE. THE SECURITY SYSTEMS HERE ARE STATE OF THE ART BECAUSE YOUR SAFETY IS OUR HIGHEST PRIORITY. LONG MAY THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE PROSPER! THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE HAS FALLEN. ALL SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN COMPROMISED. PLEASE EVACUATE. PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY. GREETINGS. I AM PRISM." Over the sound of blaster fire, and the roars of battle, a loud voice played with detached tone over the internal communication systems. Darth Awenydd controlled her position with a storm of telekinetic energy, steel wreckage swirling around her form in a wild tempest, daring the unwise to tread into her proximity. Her raw exertion would be a gamble, such an expenditure could not last forever. Eyes watched carefully on a display from afar, paying attention to the three that stood their ground, hoping that they would either die or move on from this point of escape. Time was running out though. The Imperial Bakra safeguarded himself as best as he could behind the mass of the fallen TIE fighter, trading pocket shots with the enemy, risking his skin each and every time he stuck his neck out. Exodus moved as assassins do, only better, carving into the perimeter that the Cabal attempted to set. Each of them washing their hands in the lives of their enemies, and each of them feeling very different from one another as they did so. These affairs of war was what separated the weak from the ready; some were bred to conquer the unexpected, and others could only amount to the poorest of fruit, hanging lowest from the tree. "I have not, the time for this. Burn it all down." The engine rooms, the main bridge, and places upon the Dauntless-class that were untraveled by the few here would soon detonate with explosions. The Hexa would scream with hollow anguish as it was systematically torn apart from the inside. Rhydonium canisters preset with simple explosive charges and a canopy of conductive substances were enough to break the remaining life from the Hexa, and such things were misplaced across the entirety of the prison barge. The evidence of the Hexa would perish here and now, while the salvages of this old relic still lay in question. The countdown began. Large tectonic plates, engineered into the middle of hangar bay 355, mechanically unfolded. Gears and cogs that fastened the large metal plates shut, now turned and wheeled alive. Clicking and spinning, unbuckling itself before the wide plates separated and revealed a gaping space in the middle of the battle scene. A repulsor-lift rose slowly, sucking the sickening miasma apart, offering at least another means of aeration. ! ! W A R N I N G ! ! Urdra Magnus, 4th Pre-Cog of the Cabal Dark Side Practitioner. A masterful tactician, perhaps through military past or simply long experience in burning his way through small settlements on backwater worlds, the alchemical brigand known as Magnus commands his raiders with a violent and tactical wit. The ferocious groups of Emerald Cabal forerunners at his helm, usually unleash a reckless abandon, attacking more brazenly preceding the arrival of Magnus and more of his dark robed cultists, a brutal indicator of the chaos to come whenever he is spotted. Everything Burns. Magnus and his bandits seem to focus more on destruction at the height of a raid, for they find it much easier to rob the corpses of a scorched target than leave survivors. Magnus and his hordes is entirely unsustainable with their destructive tendencies, taking what they can and leaving ruin in their wake. When in battle himself, you can expect that Magnus and his kind have sabotaged the area with heavy harboring of explosives, which is commonly used to destroy fortifications, buildings, ships, and any foes unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius when they detonate. In these situations, Magnus often keeps his hands clean, manipulating the smaller bandit crews at his disposal to enact carnage. Urdra Magnus is an unfamiliar master of the Dark Side, ex-communicated long ago due to his affiliation to the White Wolf and his connection to a well-whispered Cult. Then Magnus appeared, (Bakra) One of the Cabal crept low, crawling as low as he could get with his eyes fixated on one, and only one target. Sweeping beneath the wreckage of the TIE fighter. He watched as the officer pivoted and fired, looked around trying to find targets, and fired once more blindly. The Trandoshan Cabal moved like a snake, the drags and pulls of his green cloak brushing cleanly across broken bolts and misplaced cartridges. Once he slithered close enough to the unsuspecting Imperial, he rolled into plain view, removed his pistol from his waistline and fired loosely at the man. (Awenydd) Rustic brown robes, and an augmented re-breather mask, similar to the ones the rest of the Cabal wore set upon his body. Magnus flung himself from the open-concept repulsor lift before it could actually set into place. His wiry frame twisted strangely during his trajectory, almost floating as he descended by will of Force. He shot for the one who commanded the dark side so recklessly. The cultists that rose with the platform that he came from, looked as if they were set inside of some trance, not following his advance but joined together in hymn instead. Magnus brandished a peculiar book in one hand, and a quarterstaff in his other. Licks of elemental lightning surged through the quarterstaff he palmed as he landed behind Awenydd, loosening a firestorm of electricity towards the Sith, a dozen thickening prongs of thunderbolts scattering towards her. "WITNESS OBLIVION!" Retrievable Items: Skullclamp Book of the Shapers Spellbinder
  2. (Awenydd, Bakra, Exodus) The Cabal could not understand how their press became stifled by an inoperable star-fighter shifting itself to obstruct their line-of-fire. Their two targets were quick on their feet, and worked to cover each other from harm. One of them quite obviously commanded the force, and the canisters thrown were immediately rejected from enshrouding their only real exit. How troublesome. And then unexpectedly, as their formations threatened to corner the Sith-Imperials, a thermal detonation ravaged more Cabal than one could count on their fingers. Bodies either completely disintegrated, or were torn limbless in front of their crew-members. Projectiles that were too quick to outmaneuver, smashed into the faces of Cabal who steadied their hands to adjust the accuracy of their running prey, the wizardry could only be explained as a witchcraft that now worked against them. The most forward of Cabal now had their head-gear crippled, while they gasped desperately for cleaner air. The porous vapor that bled from the canisters attached to their waist were filled with toxins that provoked incessant hives on the respiratory organs of the Trandoshans. This chemical weapon was lethally geared to Humans, and humanoids with close physiological makeups, rotting the stomach into nauseous fits. Now the Cabal drank of their own poison. They understood now that the two were slightly underestimated, and sheer numbers would be the only advantage they could find within the changing battlefield. While the first twenty were now hamstrung and rendered useless, the number of Cabal increased with fury. Visibility was more than poor, so the blade became the choice of weapon to cleave through the smoke. Cover fire still came in spurts, but a new arrival had now become a beacon of confidence. This man wielded an impregnable defense from ranged attacks, so the others pushed to attack the three in close quarter combat. (Shiro) The Juggernaut felt the bones of his enemy snap inside of his hands, crushing the life from the now limp body. He tossed the corpse with herculean strength, and laughed as it folded in on itself as it hit the durasteel walls. The remaining Imperials made a dash for it, taking their chances in the unclaimed corridors of the Dauntless. The beast of a creature, huffed with smug confidence as victory filled his belly. As the Engine room warded off the brunt of the soldiers, and quieter operations continued, the mysterious tick-tock of a nasty weapon could be heard, echoing off of the walls. Shiro and company moved quickly, passing smashed droids and plain-clothed individuals devoid of life, some even flattened abnormally. Just a few doors down, a small crew of five Sith Troopers rested in an open mess hall. Two of the men were injured, one so badly done in, that he could not afford to walk on both feet. The other three tinkered with their communication systems to no avail, hard-pressed to reach out to command. The busted radio spit out a loud static every few seconds, which was louder than normal because of how empty the mess hall was. They had weapons with them, short-ranged and close-quarter combat was within their outfit, ammo and equipment to aplenty. Shiro now took command of those that he arrived with, and had an opportunity to increase his grouping. They would be wise to keep the noise to a minimal however, for someone or something was listening..
  3. D A N G E R. There was a loud and long metallic screech, muffled by the many levels to this gargantuan Cruiser, where it came from, no one could really pinpoint. The sound was eerie, and was now the only thing that could be heard from the grounds of the hangar bay. It was a distressed groaning, the derelict ship seemingly uncomfortable under the burden of it's own weight. There existed three points of access from where these two men stood now; the gaping hall to the northwest that strangely seemed to widen as a maddening tension began to set in, a narrower passageway to the East of where they were positioned, and then South into the black of space where they had come from. Wreckage laid at the balls of their feet, and the head-pounding sounds of emergency sirens had long malfunctioned into a quiet stupor, yellow and red lights still bouncing into the smog of smashed star-fighters. Small fires tickled bruised engines, exhausts puking onto the steel plates below, bodies everywhere. This was a madness, and perhaps the two that stood in the middle of it were unaware of the peril that they had just entered alone.Near-communication transmissions were spotty at best, which meant something was stifling the longer-ranged setting. The floodlights in the Eastern corridor were snuffed out, a shower of sparks from exposed circuitry was the only hope to identify what was really lurking in the dark. The smog however, fueled by a ventilation that was disgustingly hoarse, enshrouding the entirety of the wide hall to the Northwest. This one, this was the direction that did not need light to tell you what was on the other side of it. Besides the groaning of the Dauntless, the shower of electricity to the East, and the devolving ruin of the ships behind them-- the northwest held a terrifying stampede. The heaviest of running marches, the exasperated breathing of a thousand creatures, the strange war-cries that were less words and more frenzied calls of the wild. Oh they echoed, whether they were close or not, the noise drummed down the corridor and thundered into the hearts of those that could hear it.It was too dark now. Silhouettes spun even darker. Demented durasteel and the sharpest of shards whip-lashed into the smoke and bit deep into one. Just one bite. Just one creature. The skin of his shoulder separated, loosened a bit from bone, and immediately burned with a red and searing pain. The stampede crawled to a halt, and a polarization of many shadows began to stretch from the hall and into the hangar bay. Slowly and now quietly, one after the the other, until the true shape of them became apparent. One, and then two, before a third. Their cloaks were the first thing seen, as the odorous green they wore contrasted against the smoke of the broken ventilation. Four, a fifth, and then the sixth. Their masks covered the scaly skin of their faces, encasing their elongated snouts, stretching down their necks. Seven, eight, and of course a ninth. Pistols, rifles and swords as long as their bodies, each of them brandishing at least one of these. Ten, eleven, and they did not stop there. One after the other, they poured hesitantly from the northwestern hall, spreading themselves apart and rapidly sniffing their surroundings. Sixteen, twenty-one, and the beadiest of eyes searched every nook and cranny for the rest of their enemies. There stood only two. One woman, and one man out in the open like sitting ducks. This realization sunk in rather quickly, and in Trandoshan whispers, the bandits reassured themselves that this was the case. The numbers poured in faster now, and the moment seemed stuck with complete shock. The spread of the Cabal was increasing, but more alarming than that, was that one through twenty were now steadying the aim of their DLT-19 heavy blasters, the rest would follow.Definitely not the first to step from the shadows, and definitely not the last. A Cabal holding his shoulder, stemming the bleeding with his cloak, emerged with a walk of excitement in his step. The rumblings of the others grew from whispers, to laughter, to maniacal banter. He cocked his head to his wound, and then back at his opponents. His disgust for their species somehow evident by his gaze through his mask. In his other hand he juggled three spherical canisters, each already profusely oozing with a green gas. He tossed them nonchalantly towards the dark and narrow Eastern corridor, they rolled and drowned the path in a green shroud that also seemed to seethe from each of the Cabal that continued to spawn."Prey?" His reptilian vocal chords strung louder than one expected, the sound of it's voice sneaking down the ears like a crude oil. How was it possible that he had heard the women? Viciously, they all opened fire from roughly thirty feet out. Suddenly, the broken TIE fighter rampantly hauled itself across durasteel, attempting to put a small blockade between the savage Cabal and the low hanging fruit. S H E R O The battle for the engine room turned for the worst, and the scores of Imperials that led the charge were tenaciously victorious at every turn, until the last one found them here. The trap had sprung, and now they could see that the Cabal had leeched themselves inside of the hold. Blaster fire burned into the bodies of the unaware, and an exchange of rounds drastically altered the scene. The declining unit of Imperials were stranded at a crossroads with a bloodbath awaiting them if they chose forward. Behind them, the hall in which lead them from the Hangar Bay, had gone completely dark. There was a loud screeching, unfamiliar to the sound of space, but that had died with the ringing of gunfire in their ears. Perhaps the ranks of militia that had arrived with Shiro had made their way successfully throughout the Western corridors, or perhaps what they fought against was rightfully to the rear of them. This unit however, stood no chance. Inside of the Engine room, rested at least 30 of the Cabal and an armored cretin the size of a mammoth. This beast wore exposed armor from head-to-toe, unlike the green cloaked Cabal with their armor hidden behind wraps. The path to the left was where the nauseating screech had come from before the exchange took place, a slew of Imperial and Crusader bodies lined this part of the hall. The right path was completely sealed off from fifteen feet from where the crossroads was, the scraps of common supplies entrenched against the blast-door. In front of them, and through the door, was the resistance that had melted their team, literal steam seeping through the bottom of the entrance. Behind them was black, the sound of blaster fire far in the distance, sparks gushing from the overhead. The Dauntless had already become a flowerbed of death by the looks of it, the Imperial boarding parties just happened to walk through it. What remained of Shiro and his small crew, wasn't much of anything, and the comm channel that had linked them to the others on this ship was layered with static and sobs of dying men. The excavation of the Dauntless was experimental work, sanctioned by those that sought adventure, while the rest of the forward Operations continued to build against the forces of Coruscant. Chance for reinforcements would be slim on a broken vessel, and communications were crippled. The small palisade that Shiro and the crew found themselves behind, would only hold as their ammunition did. For now, they were safe, but the armored beast would have something to say about that. With a giant cleaver in hand, at least three-quarters of the size of his eight-food stature, it approached.
  4. They had been watching, furiously annoyed with the presence of this intrusive Sith Empire. Their trespassing becoming worse as time drew on. It was bad enough that the Crusaders came and ransacked as much as they could get their hands on, but the line stopped here, and the footman of the Sith would not ruin this for the Cabals. Small teams of raiders sourced the Dauntless vessel, nitpicking each of the quarters for any measure of valuables they could add to their keep. Nearly a hundred other Trandoshans arranged themselves into a loose horde, repealed of any type of formation, more reckless and hungry in nature. The masked Cabal scrambled towards the quiet hangar, threatening the surveillance team under knife and gun to assist their swift movement. One landed, one crashed, and alone were two men ripe for the picking (Bakra, Exodus). In no time, ungainly herds of bandits would burst onto the scene and unfetter a havoc that the dead in that hangar had felt not long before. T - 120s Reminder: Hazard Zones: There are lots of great hazards to throw at characters when they are exploring and traveling through an environment as harsh as what some of the planets we’ve included in our universe are actually supposed to be. If used accurately, we can create some memorable ways to remind all players involved, just how deadly these environments can be. ! WARNING ! Hazard Criterion Type: Undomesticated Difficulty: Extreme (9) Hazards: Devastating Climate, Collapsing Infrastructure, Societal Anarchy, "Mercenary Contingents", Mandalorian Crusader Outposts, Lawlessness, Post-Apocalyptic Cityscape, Debris Belt, Wildfires, Highly Radioactive Zones, Scarce natural supply, low-functioning utilities
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