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Author	Topic: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)---Always taking new players!
greyjedi125 Registered: Apr '02	Date Posted: 6/29 6:09pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	IC: Winterkill Republic of Watava, Military Base, Mess Hall It was odd, this feeling, of belonging, of enjoyment. Winterkill's eyebrows furrowed a little as he tried to banish the feeling he was not sure what to do with, for in all honesty, it unsettled him. He felt like he was letting his guard down, as if at any given moment, after he'd given in to 'comfort', it would be torn asunder for him. And that was something he could not abide.....ever again. A sudden overhead explosion thundered, seemingly all around, drawing Winterkill back to reality. The plates of slop rattled on their trays and a chair fell over. “Sounds like imminent violence captain,” Dernan said. He'd risen so quickly from his seat, that he'd knocked his chair over in the process. “Better not have hit my ship,” he muttered as he started running off; a good guess would be that he was heading for the ship's hangar. Winterkill's eyes narrowed dangerously as he realized what was happening. The base was under attack!! The nagai fought the sudden urge to follow after Dernan, which was his first impulse. Winterkill made several quick hand gestures at Havah Jeth, as he spoke to him in the coded sign-language they used during their stealth mission. Kill.Them.All. The non-verbal communication was emphatic, though Winterkill's face remained tense, but controlled. "What are your orders, Captain..." he managed to ask as calmly as it could be expected. Tag: Bravo, Mitth, others -----signature----- "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter."_Yoda "I find your lack of Faith disturbing."_ Darth Vader "There is always Hope."_Luke Skywalker "Make me one with everything." (Hungry Monk)_Ameteth
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bterrik Registered: Jan '01	Date Posted: 6/29 8:32pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/29 8:54pm (2 edits total) Edited By: bterrik
	Hey all! Character is GM approved and I'm looking forward to this game! My character and first post. Name: Hal Crawford (Callsign Tank) Gender: Male Age: 32 Species: Human Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa Affiliation: The Mercs Personality ---Traits: Aggressive, Direct and To-the-Point, Rough around the Edges, Impatient ---Likes: Personal combat and other physical challenges, working on his starfighter, high explosives, strong drinks, gambling, women, loyalty to friends ---Dislikes: Sneaking around, back-stabbers, doing detailed planning, oppression ---Habits: Hal likes the gambling tables of a bar or casino in his down time, getting into bar brawls, and the like. In the absence of those kinds of activities, Hal has been known to find a sparring partner to work out his excess energy. Appearance ---Skin Color: Tanned Caucasian ---Hair Color: Black ---Eye Color: Green ---Clothing: Tattered vest over permanently dirty shirts, various well-worn pants and shoes. Armor consists of a matte black plasteel chestplate with a thin durasteel weave underneath and other similar plates that can be strapped to his legs. ---Other Attributes: Hal is a hulk of a man, standing just shy of two meters tall and weighing in at almost 110 kg. He wears his black hair long and usually sweat-soaked either from work, sparring, combat, or a mixture of all three. He usually sports a rugged, short beard that is more from not shaving regularly than any intent on Hal’s part. ---Other Details: A deep scar runs from his wrist on his right hand all the way up the inside of his arm to his shoulder blade, a result of quick and dirty surgery after an injury on Nar Shaddaa. Weapons: BlasTech A-280 Blaster Rifle, SoroSuub SSK-7 Heavy Blaster Pistol, Small Vibro-Dagger Starship ---Name: CY6954X (Four-Ex) ---Class: Koensayr BTL-S3 Y-Wing Starfighter ---Hyperdrive Class: 1.0 ---Weapon(s): 2x Taim & Bak IX4 Laser Cannons, ArMek SW-4 Ion Cannon, 2x Arakyd Flex Tube Warhead Launchers ---Shields: Chempat Shields, 110 SBD Maximum Output ---Sublight Speed: 70 MGLT Normal Output, 1000 km/h Atmosphere ---Crew: 1 required, 1 Astromech, 1 Gunner (Optional) ---Passenger(s): 0 ---Max Cargo (kg): 110 ---Interior Description: Hal’s personal S-3 Y-Wing has been customized inside to allow the gunner and pilot seats to fold together to serve as a bed. Generally, though, the gunner’s seat is piled high with tools, clothes, and other signs of Hal’s life. The avionics panels are usually stacked back there as well, leaving the ship’s electronics exposed as they are almost constantly under repair. ---Other Details: When Hal set out to find a ship for himself, he needed a ship that was much like himself: rugged, durable, and powerful. Speed and stealth are not it’s strong suit, but if something needs to be wrecked, she gets the job done beautifully. Hal has made a few modifications to the ship other than the interior. The first was done while he still had a partner – after sustaining heavy fire on a number of missions, the shield system was overboosted by techies on Nar Shaddaa, leaving a system that is almost 50% higher than a standard Y-Wing shields. This comes at a price in speed when the overboost is active, but when demolition is called for, the extra protection has proved to be a life-saver. The second modification was made by Hal after his partner was murdered by Imperials on Nar Shadaa. It is a remote control unit for the gunner’s turret that provides it with three selectors – free mode, locked forward, and slaved to astromech. He also had his astromech modified to use the system and although not nearly as good as having a true gunner, it does allow him some protection in the rear arc. The Force ---Sensitivity: Force Sensitive - Unaware, no training Biography ---Personal History: Hal has always lived a rough and tumble life. Born on Nar Shaddaa a year prior to the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo to parents who worked for the Hutts – his father was a smuggler and his mother was an entertainer. Both jobs took them away from home frequently, and Hal was left to fend for himself while they were gone. When Hal was 11, the Clone Wars broke out and after a tremendous argument, Hal’s mother left to join the Grand Army of the Republic. Hal’s father became even more distant at that point, at times spending weeks off world. About the only good thing he did was occasionally take Hal with on some of his less dangerous runs, teaching him the basics of flying and brawling that would eventually evolve into Hal’s life. Then, when Hal was thirteen, his father was caught running guns for the Confederacy and his freighter was destroyed by a Republic patrol. His mother returned home on leave for a short time then, but during the war, there was a severe limit on how long she could stay. After a few short months, his mother was shipped out again to serve on a newly-christened Vindicator-class Destroyer. Hal would never see her again, as the ship she was on was destroyed in the Battle of Coruscant. As a fourteen year old, he was left to fend for himself on the moon of Nar Shaddaa. He fell into a bad time, running with a gang on Nar Shaddaa for a number of years before a stroke of luck finally came his way. He was contacted by an officer in the Imperial military and received a number of credits – compensation for the death of his mother several years earlier. It wasn’t a large sum, but combined with some he had left from his father’s accounts it was enough for him to finally move on from Nar Shaddaa. He contacted an old friend of his father, the pirate captain Drea Renthal and at 16, he joined her pirate group. There he learned more about combat flying from the pirates, and coupled with the experience he had fighting as a kid and in the gang on Nar Shaddaa, he proved himself to be a scrappy, tenacious fighter who eventually earned acceptance there. He also met his girlfriend, and later partne, Shial Losccar – a Twi’lek former Hutt slave. They proved to be a formidable team and were paired up when Captain Renthal “acquired” a shipment of brand-new Koensayr Y-Wings. With the skills Hal had picked up, he was the pilot of the still-shining CY6954X and Shial was his gunner. Over the next 8 years or so, the two managed to store up quite a bit of money. Together they fought with Captain Renthal at the Battle of Nar Shaddaa, but after that they decided to end their pirate career. With Captain Renthal’s permission, they purchased the now venerable old fighter that had been their lifeblood for many years previously. They struck out on their own for a time, running escort missions and other miscellaneous tasks, occasionally still working for Captain Renthal on a commission basis. But things were going to well for Hal, and so that changed. Approximately eight months ago, while on a trading mission for the Hutts, Shial was killed in a sting operation by Imperial Stormtroopers. Hal was overcome with rage, and has spent the time since then engaging in hit-and-run operations against any Imperial targets he can find. He spent nearly all his credits on proton torpedoes and other heavy weaponry, as well as upgrades to the Four-Ex, and caused a great deal of harm to a lot of Imperials. But eventually, his accounts ran low and his rage subsided. He began to look for work again, but increased Imperial crackdowns had closed down many of the contacts he had made with Drea. Even she didn’t have much work for him anymore, and this led Hal to set out with his starfighter to find work. From what few contacts he had left, he had heard about a group called the Mercs who were said to be taking a job on Watava and were looking for pilots… ---Military History: None ---Traumatic Experiences: Death of parents and girlfriend, and while he has certainly recovered, the pain does still run deep and although he would claim to be a mercenary at heart now, he longs to take the fight to the Imperials for the pain they’ve caused him and so many others throughout the galaxy Hal Craford Enroute to Watava Hal reached up and rubbed the days-old stubble on his chin as he watched the hyperspace timer on his primary display slowly continue its inexorable countdown towards zero. A glance at his Y-Wing’s fuel tanks showed everything was still in order, even though he was carrying less fuel than he normally would have for a flight of this distance. As the timer ticked down through ten minutes, he began his pre-reversion checks. As he went through the checklist for what must have been the millionth time, he let his mind wander to the events of the previous eight months. Eight months ago, Hal had been settling down with his fiancé, using their Y-Wing ever less and less, having semi-retired from work with the pirate captain Drea Renthal. They had been saving money to buy a freighter and start an above-the-table freight business. They had also been making plans for their first child – but all of that had come to a crashing halt. On a simple trading mission to Nal Hutta, his Shial was caught in the crossfire between a Hutt gang and a squad of Imperial Stormtroopers engaged in a sting operation. She was gunned down in cold blood attempting to get away from the situation, and Hal’s life had forever changed. He was first consumed by hatred, wanting to inflict pain on the Imperials that took his fiancé away. And he did – he took the money they had been saving and bought upgrades for their venerable Y-Wing and armed it to the teeth. He took to ambushing Imperial convoys and for a few weeks, he rained destruction on them. But the anger the fueled his revenge burned out, and was replaced by inconsolable grief. And again for weeks at a time, Hal hardly ate or slept, having a hard time finding a purpose to continue living – drinking heavily all the while. He was eventually arrested by Imperials on Commenor for public intoxication and served a few months in prison. By the time he got out and returned to Nar Shaddaa, he found that his bank accounts had been severely drained and he had no connections to his previous life. He contacted Captain Renthal, but Imperial crackdowns had put a damper on her business, and she had little work for him. She did mention, however, a small mercenary team that was looking for a pilot on a little, out of the way world called Watava. And so here he was, eight months after the death of Shial, having placed almost all of his remaining credits into fuel for the trip. He was hoping he would find a new place, and a new beginning among these “Mercs.” Beee—ooop. Beee-whoop, came the sound of his astromech, Crank, bringing him out of his reverie and warning him that there was only 30 seconds left to hyperspace reversion. Hal acknowledged the message and enabled his shields and a false transponder – things that had become standard procedure among the pirates. Outside the Y-Wing, the tumbling colors of hyperspace gave way to elongated stars, which in turn snapped to their familiar, distant pinpricks as the ship decanted from hyperspace. Hal adjusted a few controls on his communication board and made a call. “Watava Flight Control, this is Y-Wing Constellation Eleven Six Niner X-ray. Out of Hyperspace in grid fourteen alpha, request beacon for arrival, Watava City.” After a few moments of receiving only static, Hal checked the frequency and began to transmit again when Crank gave a sharp chirp – a warning. Words began scrolling on his primary display. Our communications are being jammed. I detect sensor jamming signals as well, but they are too distant yet to completely disrupt our screens. Limited sensor data indicates higher than expected ion trails in and out of the Watava atmosphere in tight formation. Extrapolation suggests military operations. “Damn,” Hal said as he glanced at his fuel and weapons loadouts. He had only fueled and armed for rebasing and travel, not for combat – he only carried 2 proton torpedoes and his weapons were at half charge. He had enough fuel for some limited maneuvering, but an extended engagement could cause a problem. “Crank, do we have enough fuel to reach another system?” The astromech responded with a mournful negative whistle. “Alright then, let see what the sensors are showing while we still have them.” Crank began transferring data, and his forward and aft scans lit up with a very confusing situation. A few smaller capital ships were distinguishable in orbit, but fighters only showed up as blocks rather than individual craft. He knew that the Mercs were filling a contract for the Watavans, and it looked like the tensions that had embroiled the planet must have finally spilled over. “Just my luck,” Hal groaned as Crack gave a shrill beep and brought up the badly distorted image of a Marauder-class Corvette. Crank’s message indicated that its markings correlated with the Johnny Boy, the Mercs’ ship – and a small sensor blob was heading towards it. “Well, this wasn’t the introduction I was planning on, but it’ll have to do. Crank, transfer discretionary power to the engines,” Hal said as he smoothly advanced the throttles and brought the nose of his ship onto a course towards the Johnny Boy. TAG: Anyone -----signature----- From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. Error Message 63A-90: The error message failed to display
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Bravo Registered: Sep '01	Date Posted: 6/29 9:51pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/29 9:55pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Bravo
	IC: Rick Taller (Locked NPC and shuttle crew for this mission, GM controlled) Mess Hall, Headquarters Base, Republic of Watava Rick Taller was calm, cool, and collective. He calmly put his fork down and took a napkin and wiped his mouth as others in the mess hall scrambled for their battle positions, Dernan Vask among them. He took a calm drink of his water and looked at Winterkill who had asked him the question about orders and shared that look with Havah Jeth as he spoke to the two pilots. "Get to you're fighters, get ready, and await further orders. And if you would, please, slow Dernan down before he trips over himself. I can't have Kailin taking care of road burn when I need her up there fighting with us." When the two pilots were gone, Taller went for his comlink and tried to contact the Johnny Boy. Communications were being jammed. "I'm not surprised," Taller muttered as he walked calmly to the hanger, Dak already departing when Dernan had left. The Lambda-Class Shuttle was the 'eye in the sky' for the starfighter squadron and mobile command station. The crew for the shuttle would no doubt already be there prepping the shuttle for launch: they were some of Taller's best officers, pilots, and controllers he had. Heading down the corridor amidst running base personnel and droids, warning alarms and air raid announcements over the loud speaker, Taller found himself in the hanger, the rest of The Mercs donning their fighter suits and mechanic crews fueling what starfighters had to be fueled, with astromech droids and other droids working around the organic crews and pilots, some astromechs being loaded into their starfighters while others did last minute repair jobs on starfighters and drug missile loads to their starfighters to be loaded. Taller took a look towards the hanger's side door, explosions rocketed outside and Taller could see that the air base was under heavy attack from just where he stood, not getting the full view of what was going on outside. He took a detour to the pilots' changing rooms---where Jason Lasso ran out, saluting hastily as he ran towards his starfighter---and got dressed into his own white flight-suit and white Rebel Alliance-style starfighter helemt with black flight harness, equipment belt, and blaster holster with his DL-44 Blaster Pistol with scope resting there. This flight suit was what all crew members aboard the Lambda-Class Shuttle wore. After dressed, he approached the white Lambda-Class Shuttle, the pilot Patty Sands was just running up the loading ramp. Parked towards the rear of the hanger and facing towards the double hanger doors, which were closed at the moment, The Mercs' starfighters sat all in front of the white captured Imperial shuttle. Walking up the ramp, Taller entered into a passenger bay that had been converted into a command station. One console ran along the port side of the bay, it being the communications console with a flight seat and crash webbing, with another console running along the starboard side of the shuttle with a flight seat and crash webbing as well, this station being the sensor console. The interior of the passenger bay was carpeted in Imperial gray with two half circle stations back-to-back in the middle of the compartment with the sides open to walk in and out of the circle. On either bow and aft section of the circle station was a large view screen each with two flight seats with crash webbing on either end of the circular station. This central station was where Taller had the forward viewscreen and Dak had the rear viewscreen. The rear of the shuttle was equipped with survival, rescue, and medical equipment as well as a air lock door on the starboard side of the vessel where if one equipped themselves with one of the space suits hanging on the far wall, could go retrieve a evaced pilot. There was also a small medical station and medical bed along the port side of the aft of the passenger bay just in front of the hanging space suits. Just for spite, Taller had included a small coffee and water station with a snack bar on the starboard side of the shuttle just forward of the air lock. The pilots really hated him when he was having coffee or water and a snack while he was talking to them on the comms as they danced and swirled in a starfighter battle. He loved it. Flight Lieutenant Patty Sand, a late forties human female of average built with brown hair and green eyes, had the pilot position with Tom, a Trade Federation pilot droid in traditional blue markings had the co-pilot seat as a Flying Officer. Susan Sand, Patty Sand's twenty-year old daughter who looked almost like her mother but younger, manned the communications station as a Petty Officer for the squadron and relayed orders from Taller to the squadron and received requests from the squadron and forwarded them Taller for approval. Sensors were under the tactful eyes of the mid-twenties male Mon Calamari Po Bar, the Chief Petty Officer. Dak monitored enemy communications and tactics on the sensors, while Rick Taller handled overall command and communications with the Johnny Boy, as well as deploying counter measures in case the shuttle came under attack, handling the weaponry along with the co-pilot on the shuttle, and using the jamming equipment for enemy communications and sensors. "What's our status?" Rick asked as he climbed aboard. Patty was always the one to answer the question, since it was, after all, her ship---as she pointed out to Taller on multiple occasions---as the chief flying officer aboard the shuttle. It was her job to make sure everyone was ready and the ship was ready. The Rebel Alliance white starfighter helmeted human female with a white flight suit, black flight boots, equipment harness, flight equipment, and blaster holster on her right thigh with a DL-44 blaster pistol looked back at Taller from the pilot's seat up front. "Mother is ready with all stations green." Rick nodded as he attached the black comlink device to his ear with a mini-mircophone extending to the right sided of his mouth. "Good. Communications, get me a secured fighter-to-fighter link set up for the squadron." Susan nodded and answered, "It'll be filled with static with the communications jamming we have going on, but I'll be able to get some clarity through for you, Rick." "That's good enough. Make sure you send the data package to the astromech droids and to the HUD's for those pilots who don't have astromech droids." Susan nodded. "Already ready, sir. You're on." Rick nodded and said, "All Mercs, listen up, this is Taller. Take a look at you're HUD screens for an emergency mission briefing..." Tag everyone ***************** IC: Jason Lasso Merc Hanger, Headquarters Base, Republic of Watava "I suppose that would be an accurate assessment, yes," she replied, "but this is probably not the best place to be discussing it." Jason grinned. "You're probably right. Lets get going!" Jason ran towards the pilots' changing rooms and soon reappeared in his flight suit with helmet in hand, giving Rick Taller a quick salute as he ran passed him, running towards his yellow Naboo Royal n-1 Starfighter. Dude, his white primary colored R2 astromech droid with red as a secondary color, was already being loaded into his starfighter by a male Duro hanger deck technician in the standard gray jumpsuit of the hanger crew of the Mercs. "You ready, Dude?" Jason asked as he ran up to his fighter and up the small ladder to the cockpit of his fighter. Once he reached the top of the open cockpit, Dude replied and Jason laughed, being able to understand the beeps and whistles of an astromech droid. [What do you think I'm doing here, just being loaded into the starfighter for no good reason?] The droid replied with beeps and whistles. Shaking his head as he laughed, Jason climbed into the cockpit, putting on his helmet as his chief mechanic for his starfighter ran up the ladder and helped him strap in. "You ready, Lasso?" Steve Nicks asked, a balding early forties human male standing 5'10 feet tall with light colored skin and blue eyes, wearing a grease and oil covered gray jumpsuit with black boots and a oil stained red shop rag in his back right pocket. Jason nodded and smiled as Steve finished strapping him in, "All ready to go, Steve." "You better bring her back," Steve said sternly. "What about ME?!" Lasso asked. "I don't really care about you, just the fighter and Dude back there," Steve replied, chuckling. [You're a loser, Jason!] "You're not helping here, Dude!" Jason replied, then looked at Steve, "I'll make sure to disappoint you and come back alive along with the starfighter and droid." "Damn, there goes my plan to take all of your stuff!" The mechanic quickly withdrew down the ladder as Jason laughed and he took the ladder away from the starfighter. Jason hit the main power button and the Naboo Royal n-1 Starfighter started up, systems coming to life. "Okay Dude, lets do a really quick pre-flight check here..." Tag darthramza ************************** IC: Terrel Vacks (Locked NPC, GM controlled) Johnny Boy, high orbit above Watava Terrel Vacks was waiting nervously in the captain's chair when Chief Petty Officer Wa Yay spoke up with some interesting news. "Commander, we have a Y-Wing in-bound towards us. Weapons are disarmed." "On screen, Wa," Terrel said. A holograpic imagine appeared before the captain's chair, showing a Y-Wing flying towards them, coming ever closer, "What's the starfighter's condition?" "Fuel is low, sir. They can't make it anywhere else. One organic pilot on board with one droid." "Communications, alert the hanger deck of an in-coming Y-Wing and get security on stand-by down there." "Right away, Commander!" Replied Petty Officer Pa'luva Tok. Tag bterrik -----signature----- Believer in Jesus Christ "All right, I'll give it a try." - Luke Skywalker, ESB "No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try." - Yoda, ESB "Now, be brave, and don't look back. Don't look back." - Shmi Skywalker, TPM
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Mitth_Fisto Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 6/29 11:32pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	IC: Havah Jeth Mess Hall, Headquarters Base, Republic of Watava As the explosions began he simply sat there listening, listening and gauging locations of the first strikes. Perfect timing in a way, he didn't have a comback to the 'bells' statement except to give a wane grin as a small pang was felt at his unique disadvantage with women. Not that he didn't like em' or know how to treat them, but merely at the fact that what human woman on such a world or in their outfit would want a white-eyed, white haired, four fingered and clawed...freak. None so far from his attempts to relieve the bordem. Pausing yet a little longer to let the flow subside as other's raced like a nuna with it's head chopped off, he silently received his orders...both of them. The command order was to his ship for this mission, his unofficial orders received in the sign-language code was simple 'kill. them. all.' Looking back unerringly he signed back as he stood and downed the cognac, 'All.With.Weapons.' Turning over his tumbler he smashed it down in the untouched food before him as he stepped back and around his chair, keeping that eye contact...pushing aside the memories. Turning he headed keeping pace with the others to the hanger, which was as could be expected a location of ordered chaos. Passing up and dodging the few racing vehicles and techs he quickly reached his ship. With a quick climb up he was soon strapping in and securring his flight helmet as Pick secured the hatch, just in time it seemed to get a Hud update and crackly comm message for the mission. 'Must be jamming' he idly thought as he flicked through the last of the preflight checks, "Spook is set sir." TAG: Watava Hanger, Grey, GM -----signature----- Pride before the fall Humility before honor Friendship is unnecessary like philosophy like art It has ho survival value; rather it's one of those things that gives value to survival http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/25366431/p1/?79
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Rally_Fan_84 Registered: Jan '09	Date Posted: 6/30 4:36am Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/30 5:08am (1 edits total) Edited By: Rally_Fan_84
	GM Approved CS Name: Maxhen "Maniac" Kiv Gender: Male Age: 32 Species: Corellian Homeworld: Selonia Affiliation: The Mercenaries (unless Corsec rescinds his expulsion of course) Personality ---Traits: Aggressive and experienced tenacious combat pilot specializing in fighter interception convoy supply interdiction and enemy anti-starfighter defense suppression, firm grasp of starfighter combat tactics, able to undertake ultra-dangerous solo missions, ---Likes: Anything that makes him feel good or takes his mind off of frustration and bad memories, attractive women, Corellian Whiskey, good music (musician himself), sabaac, pugil ---Dislikes: Blowhard "superior" officers, bad tactical decisions, unwanted commands, repeatedly being asked the same question no matter how intelligent it might be ---Habits: Sarcastic, bombastic, somewhat of a loudmouth, used to command and will occasionally give orders, suspicious and mistrusting of others until they earn his trust, focused, driven, addictive personality, loyal, protective of squadron-mates, hard-nosed and determined Appearance ---Skin Color: Light Olive ---Hair Color: Reddish Brown ---Eye Color: Blue/Green ---Clothing: Wears a desert tan flight suit with dark brown gloves and boots and matte gray gear. Helmet is of the full-face variety and has a stylized laming nexu skull running from the temple to a point in the back, with additional targeting gear attached to the helmet and slaved to rotating viewscreens that flip down over his eyes. When not in pilots gear, he wears casual clothes and shoes, but constant fixtures are his black pilots jacket with squadron patches and his black-framed green glareshades. ---Other Attributes: 5'11'' tall, 186 and athletic build, not classically but ruggedly handsome (like Jason Statham or Thomas Jane). ---Other Details: Scars on left shoulder and upper back from bad ejection Weapons: Combat Vibro-blade, Dissuader KD-30 slugthrower pistol Starship ---Name: Old Gundark ---Class: Rebuilt and upgraded Belbullab-22 starfighter ---Hyperdrive Class: 1.4 ---Weapon(s): 1x Double barreled repeating heavy blaster 1x Ion Cannon 1x concussion missile launcher (6 rounds) ---Shields: Experimental Ablative shielding ---Sublight Speed: 130MGLT (engines replaced and modified) ---Crew: 1 ---Passenger(s): None ---Max Cargo (kg): None (used for combat modifications) ---Interior Description: Spartan at best, geared toward fighter combat, albeit with a supportive and leather-covered pilots chair. No targeting computer display, HUD displays only gun pipper and basic info, jacks in seat to feed information to helmet-mounted displays and sights. ---Other Details: Medium Gray paintjob, yellow bands with black borders at halfway point on outboard nacells, skull and crossbones emblem behind cockpit. The Force ---Sensitivity: Some, but latent. Also not advised to be brought up since he is not a fan of the Jedi. Biography ---Personal History: Born to a hospital administrator for a father and a financial broker for a mother, it seems only fitting that Maxhen became a fighter pilot. Active and adventuresome at an early age, his exploits frequently got him into trouble, and it only got worse once he obtained his pilots license and got his first airspeeder. Still he wasn't too rambunctious to disclude him from service with the Corellian Security Forces despite his parents objections, and an aptitude for fast thinking combined with natural piloting skills made him a fit for starfighter duty. He rapidly earned the nickname of "Maniac" due to his headlong engagements against seemingly overwhelming odds and his reliance on his senses rather than his instruments first, something which occasionally got him into trouble but also made him an unpredictable foe and an ace pilot twice over. During his service several pirate gangs banded together and committed several raids into the Corellian Sector, attacking luxury liners and high-value and risk cargo ships. Despite pointing out that the pirates were attacking from what was definitely Imperial space, the Empire refused to do anything about it, resting the burden firmly on the shoulders of Corsec. Compounding Maxhens problems was an inept wing commander that refused to do anything other than by the book, traits that got pilots killed unnecessarily. Realizing this, several pilots including Max banded together and decided that during the next engagement the commander would be left alone to be killed. They reasoned that leaving him alive would be risking the entire squadron if not the wing itself. When the time came all fighters dropped away and the wing commander was inevitably killed. They seemed to have gotten away with it until evidence started to mount, and rather than stand firm Maxs' co-conspirators betrayed him and fed him to Internal Affairs. Shamed and awaiting imprisonment on a remote penal colony, the prison transport that Max was aboard was attacked by imperial agents posing as pirates, using it as cover to assassinate a Rebel spy. During the confusion of the attack Max managed to subdue his captors and make his way to an escape pod and flee his sentence. After drifting for awhile he managed to acquire a starfighter and work as a private security operator for awhile, modifying and upgrade the Razor as he went along. Eventually he found his way into The Mercs, and has made it a point to be a mainstay and somehow atone for his sins. ---Military History: 7 years with the Corellian Security Forces. 2 years as private security pilot 2 years with the Mercs ---Traumatic Experiences: Conflict over career choice with parents Needless loss of friends in combat. Conviction of conspiracy to murder late wing commander. -----signature----- Raising the bar for idiocy and sarcasm daily! Member of the Game Designers Guild. Most Likely to annoy the Mods 2009!
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Fanficfan Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 6/30 4:51am Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	Dernan Vask Watava Military Base Dernan muttered a quick curse as he nearly bowled over a Watavan soldier as he barrelled out of the mess hall, “get out the way you idjits!” he yelled as he dodged a group of startled beings. He sprinted his way across to the hanger, leaving a trail of people knocked over by his mad rush to get to his fighter and into the air. The mercenary slowed a little has he entered the hanger, not wishing to hurt any of the folk who’d be working on his ship after the battle, but he still had enough speed to carry his leap up onto the wing of the Jib Jab. He quickly hauled his flight suit out of the small cargo compartment and slid down the other side of his fighter to get changed. Once he was done he climbed back onto the top of his fighter and shoved his shirt and pants into the cargo compartment before dropping into the open cockpit and starting his pre-flight sequence. His HUD came to life, showing all systems were quickly coming online. The comm unit crackled just in time to catch a message, “...sten up, this is Taller. Take a look at your HUD screens for an emergency mission briefing...” Tag: Waiting for briefing -----signature----- If a Dark Lord of the Sith ever asks you to pull his finger... Do it! It's hilarious
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Rally_Fan_84 Registered: Jan '09	Date Posted: 6/30 5:00am Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	IC: Maxhen Kiv Location: Republic of Watava, Military Base, Merc Hangar When the first shots had impacted, Maxehn Kiv, known as "Maniac" to those who worked anywhere within a lightyear of him, had looked up and around to make sure that they were indeed under attack. The previous week had yielded similar explosions in the form of some technician not being careful with highly explosive ordinance, and the near panic from some of the junior pilots and crews had been il-advised to say the least. When the second chorus of impacts rang out, Max simply sighed and started re-dressing himself in his flight gear. Not even one hour ago he had gone out for a shakedown flight with his starfighter, the [i]Old Gundark. During the last engagement he had noticed that hard breaking turns to the left gave off a high frequency vibration and had endeavored to fix it. This was the second shakedown flight and he had traced the problem to the directional vanes on the thrust-vectoring system when the alert went out. He was nearly in his cockpit when the pilots started to rush into the bay when the other pilots started to file in. As was his way he gave them a customary greeting[/i] "Lets go fellow dirty mercs, we've got jerk-arses to wax!" He knew it really wasn't fair since he had already been in the hangar bay and his ship was already warmed up, but anything that fired up pilots was good for their combat prowess, made them edgier, more aggressive, more dangerous. It was a quick matter of warming up and engaging all primary systems, checking scanners to make sure they could switch from passive to active (noting that there was a jamming signal interfering with them somewhat), and taking special care to ensure that his weapons had safeties engaged before checking, since now was not the time to blow open bay doors. The good captains voice had come over the comms, telling them to look at the viewscreens for information. As he waited, Max punched up the comm channel used for squadron-wide communication and relayed his status "Maniac is armed and ready, on standby awaiting orders. Or you can just point me in a direction and say kill, that will suffice lead." Tag: Capt. Taller, all Mercs in fighter bay. -----signature----- Raising the bar for idiocy and sarcasm daily! Member of the Game Designers Guild. Most Likely to annoy the Mods 2009!
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Bravo Registered: Sep '01	Date Posted: 6/30 10:04am Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	IC: Jason Lasso Merc Hanger, Headquarters Base, Republic of Watava If there was ever someone who just had to say a comment at the wrong time, it was Jason Lasso. He had the most...improper timing with his mouth, which got him in more trouble then anything else. Maxhen Kiv's voice came over the squadron channel, if a bit scrambled. But Jason grinned none-the-less. In the few months Lasso had been with The Mercs---and given his chance to become a starfighter pilot, his dream---he had become close friends with Maxhen. And Lasso could identify three reasons; first, the two pilots were like two born-to-be trouble makers and with callsigns such as Maniac and Quagmire, it was bound to be a friendship of trouble, mischief, and high speeds in their starfighters. Second, was the fact that Maxhen so related to what Jason had always wanted to be as a starfighter pilot: good and relaxed to be around. And thirdly, with Jason's natural hands it seemed like in the cockpit, Maxhen had taken the younger pilot under his wing as a tutor to become the 'second best starfighter pilot,' as the two pilots often joked together. "Maniac is armed and ready, on standby awaiting orders. Or you can just point me in a direction and say kill, that will suffice lead." "Quagmire is ready and armed, Lead. Awaiting the chance to out-class Maniac again today," Jason said with a smirk on his face, knowing that Maxhen would be wanting to come back with a reply, but knowing that comm time was limited with the emergency situation on hand. Tag Rally_Fan, darthramza (above tag if you want) -----signature----- Believer in Jesus Christ "All right, I'll give it a try." - Luke Skywalker, ESB "No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try." - Yoda, ESB "Now, be brave, and don't look back. Don't look back." - Shmi Skywalker, TPM
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darthramza Registered: Jul '08	Date Posted: 6/30 11:42am Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	Janice Taller Hangar Janice admired P.O. Lasso's enthusiasm, but, she recalled, enthusiasm could be dangerous. Especially when it led to the sort of competition the kid had with Maxhen Kiv. This was exactly the sort of thing she tried to discourage. So it came as no surprise to her that when the two of them reported ready over the radio, she let out an audible sigh. "Maniac is armed and ready, on standby awaiting orders. Or you can just point me in a direction and say kill, that will suffice lead." That'd be Kiv living up to his callsign. "Quagmire is ready and armed, Lead. Awaiting the chance to out-class Maniac again today." Lasso, a bit too hungry for personal glory. She strapped on her helmet and settled into the cockpit. As if on cue, F6 was lowered into position atop the fighter. "This is the Arc-J, Flight 1 Lead awaiting permission to launch... And take it easy, you two, war's not a competition. Let's just make sure everyone gets home alright." TAG: Bravo, Rally -----signature----- "Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves." - Revolver Ocelot GDG, GMG, CDG, D.E.N.T.A.L. VP Ever Lovin' DM of the Saga of the Nameless Lands Extremely Unofficial Caretaker of Jocasta Nu's
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Bravo Registered: Sep '01	Date Posted: 6/30 1:09pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/30 1:54pm (3 edits total) Edited By: Bravo
	OOG: GAME MASTER CORRECTION: Hey everyone, as I was doing some research for the new roster I'm making with the new characters, I ran across a detailed diagram of a Lambda-Class Shuttle, something I didn't know there was. So, the section of the post that talks about the detailed insides of the Mother (the Lambda-Class Shuttle) is now voided and below is the official detailed insides of the ship. Please use the link below provided by Wookieepedia as a reference point for the shuttle. Thank you. Note: Lambda-Class Shuttle detailed map 1) Pilot Station (Flight Lieutenant Patty Sands---Human, female) 2) Co-Pilot Station (Flying Officer Tom---Trade Federation pilot droid) 3) System Op Station (Chief Technician Tech---J9 Worker Drone) 4) Gunnery Station (Open---Rick Taller handles weapons in case the shuttle is attacked) 5) Auxiliary Station #1 (Open---for passengers) 6) Auxiliary Station #2 (Open---for passengers) 7) Entry Ramp 8) Lower Level Maintenance Hatch 9) Emergency Life Support Cabinets 10) Equipment Storage 11) Central Command Station (Rick Taller---Human, male/Dak---M-3PO Military Protocol Droid) ("two half circle stations back-to-back in the middle of the compartment with the sides open to walk in and out of the circle. On either bow and aft section of the circle station was a large view screen each with two flight seats with crash webbing on either end of the circular station. This central station was where Taller had the forward viewscreen and Dak had the rear viewscreen.") 12) Communications Console (Petty Officer Susan Sands---Human, female) ("One console ran along the port side of the bay, it being the communications console with a flight seat and crash webbing...") (Note: There are bench seats on either side of the console.) 13) Sensor Console (Chief Petty Officer Po Bar---Mon Calamari, male) ("...with another console running along the starboard side of the shuttle with a flight seat and crash webbing as well, this station being the sensor console.") (Note: There are bench seats on either side of the console.) 14) Refresher (Note: Across from the refresher, on the port side of the shuttle, is the coffee, water, and snack bar---"...a small coffee and water station with a snack bar...") 15) Medical Station/Storage Locker (Note: The Medical Station is located here, along with "...survival, rescue, and medical equipment...".) 16) Port side: Cargo Holds 16) Starboard side: Air lock that opens on the top starboard side of the shuttle with a ladder to the floor of the shuttle from the air lock in the ceiling. Space suits and other space equipment is located in the former starboard side cargo holds as well. Note: Passenger/cargo hold still has Imperial gray carpeting on floor. Also note that all organic crew members wear the following: "...white flight-suit and white Rebel Alliance-style starfighter helemt with black flight harness, equipment belt, and blaster holster with his DL-44 Blaster Pistol..." (The scope is not required on the DL-44 blaster pistol, although Rick Taller had a scope on his) -----signature----- Believer in Jesus Christ "All right, I'll give it a try." - Luke Skywalker, ESB "No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try." - Yoda, ESB "Now, be brave, and don't look back. Don't look back." - Shmi Skywalker, TPM
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Rally_Fan_84 Registered: Jan '09	Date Posted: 6/30 1:19pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	IC: Maniac Location: Awaiting launch orders in Merc fighter bay. Max had barely gotten his message off when another voice cut in over the comm channels, slightly marred by static but not enough to mask just who the culprit was "Quagmire is ready and armed, Lead. Awaiting the chance to out-class Maniac again today," As jaded as Max could be, he grinned. The young Lasso was a quick study and a analouge of a younger Max, but much sharper and more mature than he was at his age. He was also supremely talented but in that danger zone between rookie caution and full-fledged experience, so Max felt it his duty to both help mold him into an exceptional pilot and keep him as safe as possible. Which made the next transmission all the more annoying. He was going to let Jason think he had it and leave it at that, but the next voice over the comm was that of the queen flight lead and eternal buzzkill herself Janice Miller. "This is the Arc-J, Flight 1 Lead awaiting permission to launch... And take it easy, you two, war's not a competition. Let's just make sure everyone gets home alright." This of course was nothing new to Max. He had worked with her before and her attitude had never changed once. It annoyed him endlessly that she got command positions over him despite her not being a career starfighter pilot. Sure she had great tactical sense, but so did Max, and then there was the point of his banter itself. Starfighter pilots had a dangerous enough job without having to be brought down. Pilots had to KNOW they were the best so they could go forward with confidence and do the job. They had to be supremely confident to the point of cockiness because if they weren't then they wouldn't aggressively take the fight to the enemy, essentially becoming transport jocks in small ships. What Janice didn't get time and again was that the banter, the side-bets, the "immature" behavior, the competitions, they were all designed to take the edge of fear off and motivate pilots to push themselves and their ships harder. Besides, it wasn't as if he didn't make sure Quagmires six was sanitized as much as possible. Quagmire had even begun taking on the anti-starfighter defense suppression role as well, and he needed not only backup but the conviction and the gall to do face down and intimidate that which was hunting you and come out victorious on the other side. So in the spirit of making sure Janice didn't take away the rocket fuel that he was trying to instill in ALL pilots, Max hit the switch on his comm one more time, procedures be damned. He would pay for it later if need be but esprit de corps was more important right now. "Are you saying that because you can't get the kills to win one of our bets lead? Quag and I will be generous and give you a 2 kill handicap if you want. Everyone else starts from zero as usual, and that includes you Vask. What's the wager this time Quag? I called it last time and got hosed, so now its your turn to eat your words. Tag: Quagmire (Bravo), Arc-J (Ram), Vask (Triple F), all other mercs who happened to be listening and wanted in... -----signature----- Raising the bar for idiocy and sarcasm daily! Member of the Game Designers Guild. Most Likely to annoy the Mods 2009!
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bterrik Registered: Jan '01	Date Posted: 6/30 2:30pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/30 2:39pm (3 edits total) Edited By: bterrik
	Hal Crawford Y-Wing Four Ex, approaching Johnny Boy Hal grimaced as in the distance, a few flashes of light could be seen - likely they were the sons and daughters of this world being wiped out in war. "Crank, how are you coming with those communications and sensors? I can only do so much with the Mark One eyeball!" Hal called out to his astromech, who whistled a reply. I've cut through as much of the jamming as I can. You should have limited communications and the sensor should be clearer now. "Roger that," Hal replied, and as he navigated through his screens he could see that the sensor data was coming in much clearer than before. The sensor blob that he had previously feared might be threatening the Johnny Boy had dissolved, either from combat or from the clearing of the scanners, and for now it appeared the Merc's ship was keeping a high orbit and was therefore out of the thickest fighting. If there was any time to refuel and rearm, and most importantly to introduce himself, it looked like this might be it. Hal keyed his mic, "Johnny Boy, this is Y-Wing Constellation Yavin Six Niner Five Four X-ray, low fuel, requesting dock." Hal frowned to himself, knowing that the Johnny Boy's controllers would be well within their rights to deny him a docking clearance, especially given the combat breaking out across the Watava system. He was surprised and pleased to hear that his request was granted, and he was given permission to land in the ship's main hangar. Hal throttled back and quickly ran his pre-landing checks, placing his weapons on safe and, taking one last glance at his scanners to be sure he was clear, lowering his shields and extending his landing skids. As he fired his thrusters and raised himself into the hangar under the nose of the Corvette, Hal could see security gathering in the hangar deck, obviously armed. Following the direction of the deck chief, Hal eased the fighter on repulsorlifts over to the place indicated and set her down gently. Placing his engines in warm standby and powering down his avionics, and making sure he wasn't carrying his weapons, Hal popped the canopy on his fighter and climbed out, making sure his hands were in view at all times. Heaving himself down to the deck, he turned and faced the security forces now approaching him, looking for their leader. "Sorry to drop in on ya like this," Hal said, "But I was running out of fuel out there, and I don't want to blunder into a lightfight sipping fumes. The name's Hal Crawford, by the way. I know this isn't the best time, but is there someone I could talk to? I'd like to help around here - its the least I can do for lettin' me land." TAG: Bravo or anyone -----signature----- From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. Error Message 63A-90: The error message failed to display
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Jedi_padawan_leigh Registered: Feb '03	Date Posted: 6/30 3:21pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game)
	OOG: Will be posting character info for the NPC medical personell tomorrow if thats ok Bravo IC: Kailin Veyo Hanger Kailin had just finished her food when suddenly the sound of an almighty bang, and a series of explosions, resonated through the base. Dernan leapt to his feet and began racing towards the hanger. Kailin frowned and looked at Rick. "So it's finally started" She thought to herself as she heard Rick giving some orders to Winterkill. Standing up, she began making her way out of the mess hall and quickly to the squadron locker room. Warning alarms and air raid sirens rang throughout the base, and base personnel were running too and from their required locations. Reaching the locker room, she quickly pulled her navy blue flight suit, harness and associated equipment out of a locker and put them on over her scrubs. She also picked up a first aid kit pouch and fastened it to her belt at her side and finally picked up a comm-link and helmet. She left the room and ran towards the hanger in which the mercs housed their fighters. As she ran she tried to use the comm-link in order to contact any of the local Watava hospitals or clinics for emergency medical assistance, but the communications were being disrupted and jammed. Cursing under her breath, she pocketed the comm-link and continued on towards the hanger. She would have to put her faith in the Watava volunteers and the other able base personnel for now. The mercs star-fighters were being fuelled and prepped for take off by the hanger techs. Approaching her own ship, a Z-95 Head-hunter, she ascended the ladder up to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot seat. She then started her pre-flight checks. Being a head-hunter, her ship did not have the capacity for an astromech droid, but data packages and other combat information could be sent to her HUD screen. As she continued her checks, she pushed any nerves of her first combat mission as best she could to the back of her mind. She put a gloved hand up to her chest, unable to actually feel the dog tags that were there under the layers of clothing, but finding some comfort in knowing that they were there. "Here I go Darrin..." She said softly as she inputted the last of her data from the checks and opened up her comm channel. The communication channel was blighted by static, but a communications jam would do that. Her fellow mercs began to report in. "Maniac is armed and ready, on standby awaiting orders. Or you can just point me in a direction and say kill, that will suffice lead." Quipped Maxhen "Quagmire is ready and armed, Lead. Awaiting the chance to out-class Maniac again today," Responded Jason "This is the Arc-J, Flight 1 Lead awaiting permission to launch... And take it easy, you two, war's not a competition. Let's just make sure everyone gets home alright." Squadron leader Janice Toller interjected "Merc two here, armed and ready" She said through the system. She understood Janice's reasons for bringing down the overconfident pilots down a peg or two, but at the same time pilots used this process of wagers and competition in order to prepare mentally for missions. Not long after, Rick's voice came through, albeit accompanied by static All Mercs, listen up, this is Taller. Take a look at you're HUD screens for an emergency mission briefing..." As she waited for the mission briefing to appear on screen, she continued to listen in on the banter between Lasso and Kiv. TAG: Rick, All Mercs, Any -----signature----- FF-UK: NORTH! My locker is like a TARDIS. Unfortunately my biology textbook got lost in time and space The FF-UK Fantasy Football League - 09/10 - Manager(ess) of The jpl Lucky Stars aka relegation fodder
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greyjedi125 Registered: Apr '02	Date Posted: 6/30 7:10pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/30 7:20pm (3 edits total) Edited By: greyjedi125
	IC: Winterkill Military Base, Merc's Hangar "What are your orders, Captain..." Winterkill managed to ask calmly just moments after the first blast rocked the military base and sent them into a state of alert. The nagai did not have to wait long for an answer from Captain Rick Taller, but he did withhold a wry chuckle as the Captain took things in stride, as was his custom. Captain Rick Taller was calm, cool, and collected. He calmly put his fork down and took a napkin and wiped his mouth as others in the mess hall scrambled for their battle positions, Dernan Vask among them. He took a calm drink of his water and looked at Winterkill who had inquired about orders and shared that look with Havah Jeth as he spoke to the two pilots. "Get to you're fighters, get ready, and await further orders. And if you would, please, slow Dernan down before he trips over himself. I can't have Kailin taking care of road burn when I need her up there fighting with us." "Yes, Sir!" Winterkill said and saluted, then bolted to the ship's hangar without looking back. Winterkill moved like the proverbial wind. He was a black streak of motion weaving through the base. He moved swiftly and silently and managed to avoid all obstacles and personnel on his way, thanks to his honed reflexes and dexterity. The nagai effortlessly jumped, flipped and somersaulted as needed, never breaking stride or slowing down until he reached the hangar. As a matter of fact, a staccato of aerial explosions only spurred him onward and faster. Without slowing, he ran past the hangar door and flashed his ID at the check point, not to mention he was a familiar face. Being the only nagai around made identification a lot easier, and then, he slowed as he saw her. His black flower of death. The StarViper he had renamed Wraith. The black ship's wings were folded-in at the moment, but that was soon to change. Winterkill's nimble fingers tapped on the surface of his wrist communicator and opened a channel to his ship. He then spoke in nagai. <Awaken, Nyx. I trust you are well rested. We must prepare for immediate combat maneuvers. Initiate all systems and commence pre-flight checks. Admit me upon security scan confirmation.> A thin beam of green light swept over the nagai's form, then winked out as quickly as it had appeared. [Welcome back, Qu'elwynt'r. Voice and Identity confirmed. Pre-flight conditions initiated. Ship access granted.] A silent nod of satisfaction was his silent response after reading the illuminated nagai text on his com. Winterkill smiled slightly as he heard the cockpit become unlocked and immediately jumped on the adjacent ladder. He reached in for his black flight-suit and began to change right on the spot; not like he had much of a choice...or time. As he finished sealing his flight suit, Winterkill's black eyes spotted a nearby mechanic and simply asked, "Well....?" the meaning of his question being tacitly understood, given the immediate situation. "She's as space worthy as she'll ever be, sir. Refueled her myself. Good hunting!" The mechanic gave a quick salute, which Winterkill returned, then quickly boarded the Wraith and followed up on the pre-flight checks. Indeed, he found the irony that most of the Mercs were better at their own ship-maintenance than he was, not so comforting. He found their independence enviable, as he had an inner distaste for dependency. Sure, he was a fierce pilot, but his mech skills left much to be desired. The fact that he had to trust the local mechanics with the fine-tuning of his ship bothered him, but he tried not to let it get in the way of things. He knew enough to hold her together, as he was no grease-monkey. Again, it was ironic that those who worked on the Wraith, did so with enthusiasm and professionalism, but that had to come to an end..and soon. Be that as it may, Winterkill listened to the com-chatter in silence as he worked. It came in fuzzily, but it was clear enough to be understood. Both 'Maniac' and 'Quagmire' were at it again, trading friendly barbs, so it was no surprise when Flight One's Lead interjected. Winterkill chuckled to himself and shook his head in mild amusement. Some things were not going to change, or so it seemed. At that moment, his systems showed all green, and it was his turn to check in. "Spectre, ready." He stated, and just in time, as the Captain came on the channel. "All Mercs, listen up, this is Taller. Take a look at you're HUD screens for an emergency mission briefing..." Tag: Mercs, Captain Taller -----signature----- "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter."_Yoda "I find your lack of Faith disturbing."_ Darth Vader "There is always Hope."_Luke Skywalker "Make me one with everything." (Hungry Monk)_Ameteth
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Bravo Registered: Sep '01	Date Posted: 6/30 7:26pm Subject: STAR WARS: INTERVENTION (A story-telling style OT starfighter game) - Date Edited: 6/30 7:38pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Bravo
	OOG: I think everyone has posted except for NickLitYouAFlame, although he hasn't been online in a few days either. I'm going to go get some ice cream , so when I get back, I'll get the mission post up. Keep you're eyes open folks. In the meantime, I'm going to reply to bterrik to get him caught up so when the mission starts, he's not too far behind. IC: Terrel Vacks/Chris Streets (Locked NPC, GM and Assistant GM controlled) Johnny Boy, high orbit above Watava As he fired his thrusters and raised himself into the hangar under the nose of the Corvette, Hal could see security gathering in the hangar deck, obviously armed. Following the direction of the deck chief, Hal eased the fighter on repulsorlifts over to the place indicated and set her down gently. Placing his engines in warm standby and powering down his avionics, and making sure he wasn't carrying his weapons, Hal popped the canopy on his fighter and climbed out, making sure his hands were in view at all times. Heaving himself down to the deck, he turned and faced the security forces now approaching him, looking for their leader. "Sorry to drop in on ya like this," Hal said, "But I was running out of fuel out there, and I don't want to blunder into a lightfight sipping fumes. The name's Hal Crawford, by the way. I know this isn't the best time, but is there someone I could talk to? I'd like to help around here - its the least I can do for lettin' me land." Chris Streets had his arms folded behind him and legs shoulder apart. The twenty-four maroon marked security class B1 Battle Droids stood behind him in a thick spread formation to either side with blasters pointed at the pilot and ship, one of their droid number having bright yellow markings instead and a backpack---identifying this droid as a commander battle droid. "Nice ship," Streets said to the pilot, then looked to the Commander-class droid, "Secure the hanger, nothing gets past you or the techs...just in case this pilot has a surprise or two. And his droid..." Streets looked up to the pilot to see his response then back to the Commander, "...Stays here. Refuel, rearm, and have any repairs done to his ship." The Commander droid nodded. "Roger, roger." "You may want to come with me, pilot," Streets offered, turning towards the blast doors exiting the hanger. Four security droids filed into a box formation around the Chiss and human as they escorted the pilot to the bridge. "So the name is Hal you say...you have interesting timing during a wartime crisis like this..." As the convoy of six figures disappeared out of the hanger, Ler, a LE Repair Droid and Lead Hanger Tech, threw his hydrospanner down on the deck floor and put his arms on his hips. "I'M the Lead Hanger Tech, not some stupid security commander droid!" "You're going to do the repairs anyways," The Commander droid replied, turning to Ler, "What do you think I am, a lazy LE Repair Droid?" Ler pointed a finger at the droid, the few organic techs and droids in the hanger stopping to watch the discussion between the two droids, "We should have just left you and you're buddies to rust on that planet we found you on!" Tag bterrik -----signature----- Believer in Jesus Christ "All right, I'll give it a try." - Luke Skywalker, ESB "No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try." - Yoda, ESB "Now, be brave, and don't look back. Don't look back." - Shmi Skywalker, TPM
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