Star Wars OPEN Star Wars: Black Sheep (Always Accepting New Players)

Star Wars: Black Sheep



A Starfighter Story









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"Hey nugget, welcome to the Intrepid, the Evil Eye." The crewman took the newly arrived officer's bag from him/her as he/she departed the U-Wing and stepped foot on the flight deck of the carrier for the first time. "Yeah we have a bit of a reputation as a widowmaker for nuggets like you, so don't take it personal if I don't bother learning your name." The crewman directed the officer off of the flight deck and towards the main corridor. "To me you're just an FNG and let's face it, you won't survive long enough for it to matter whether I learn your name or not." The crewman stopped for a second as if realizing what he'd just said, then shrugged. It really didn't matter to him much anyway. "No offense sir (ma'am), but like I said, replacement squadrons tend to get burned through real quick on the Evil Eye." He led them through the busy corridors of the ship. "Make a hole, officer coming through," he announced to a repair team working on a conduit of some sort that hung over the corridor. "OK, officer country, here's where you'll be berthed." He pointed down the corridor. "We're ramping back up to a full air wing, four squadrons." He looked the pilot up and down, but no squadron patch was visible on his/her uniform. "Which squadron you with?" He frowned at the answer. "The Black Sheep huh?" He shook his head. "I heard about you folks. Wish you had told me sooner, this section is for the Vipers and Raiders." He pointed to each side of the corridor showing which squadron had which side of the hallway. "Black Sheep and the 'truders are one section over." He hefted the officer's bag and led the way to a cross corridor that would lead to the next section. "Each squadron has their own flight bay and ready room. You're based out on the port wing, with the Intruders just inboard of ya, so that's why you have these quarters." They arrived in the proper corridor and the crewman pointed to which side the pilot was to go, the corridor to the far port side of the ship. "Galley is open for three hots a day, but I hate to tell ya, the food sucks. Tell the truth, I think the ship's cook is trying to kill us all." He continued on looking at the frame numbers on the bulkheads and doorways as they passed. "Ah, here we are," he opened the hatch to reveal a small room that barely had enough room to contain a bunk and a small desk with chair bolted to the deck. The crewman laughed at the officer's reaction to such tight living quarters. "Space is at a premium on the Intrepid, you're lucky, everything on ship is geared around you fly boys/girls, us crewman we have to bunk two and three deep, at least you don't have to share your room." The crewman dropped the officer's bag at the entrance. "Welcome to the Evil Eye, enjoy your stay." He walked off leaving the officer in his/her quarters. "I'm sure it'll be a short one."

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About the game: The bulk of Black Sheep takes place just after the Battle of Hoth as our squadron is assigned a series of missions designed to keep pressure off of the reorganizing Rebel Fleet by striking at the Empire where they least expect it. As we go along, the missions will become more and more difficult. There will be casualties, among player characters and NPCs alike (PCs are only killed off with player permission). The squadron itself is loosely based on the Wraith Squadron, a combined fighter/commando squadron from Legends that appeared in the X-Wing series of novels, though our game obviously predates the Wraith's appearance by several years. The game will be divided into several episodes, kind of like the old Saturday morning cartoons us old folks remember watching. The pilot episode to our game will take place at the Battle of Hoth, so all player characters will get to jump into that historic action from just about the beginning.

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The Rules.

1) Please follow the RPF Rules and be mindful of the Terms of Service and Rules of the Jedi Council Forums.

2) No God modding or autohitting.

3) Game Master's word is law.

4) All character sheets must be PMed (Private Message) to the GM (Bardan_Jusik) for approval.

5) This game is the official RPG of the EUC's X-Wing Fanclub. However, membership in that fanclub is not a prerequisite for playing. Still players should be aware that some Out-of-Game and/or Out-of-Character discussions and questions regarding the game may be discussed there. A separate Black Sheep Resource thread will be set up in the Role Playing Resource Forum to act as our library thread.

6) Posting expectations: Barring unforeseen circumstances all tags should be replied to within a week (7 days). I plan on GM updates for the game on a weekly basis. Real life always takes precedence over online happy online fun pretendy time though, so if something comes up and you're able, let the GM and other players know that you'll be absent (I know sometimes even that isn't possible though). If you miss any tags, I will continue to tag you and your character for the duration of your character's current assignment, afterwards your character will either be quietly dropped from the game (though they can return at a later date) or killed. Note: Rules were edited to reflect the practice of killing off of inactive player characters.

7) All major storylines (a storyline that affects the game as a whole) must have prior approval by the GM via PM. If you have an idea, please PM it to me and we'll work together to flesh it out and get it into the game. I enjoy getting news ideas to add to the fabric we're weaving, so if you have them, send them.

8) Please no Jedi/Sith characters. A character may be force sensitive if you wish, but untrained and uneducated in the ways of the Force and thus unable to harness it in any meaningful way.

9) Have fun, and may the force be with you.

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The Character Sheet: Please note that all player characters will be present at the Battle of Hoth (prior to the formation of Black Sheep Squadron) so write up your character sheets accordingly.

General Information:

Character's Name:
Callsign:
Species:
Gender:
Rank/Affiliation:
Languages:
Residence:
Home Planet:
Age:
Approved Special Features (any force sensitivity would go here ):

Character Traits:
Personality:
Habits/Mannerisms:
Likes/Dislikes:
Racial Traits:

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses:
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses:
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses:

Looks:
Appearance:
Picture:

Eye Color:
Hair/Fur:
Skin Color:
Clothing:

Personal History:
Immediate Family:
Spouse/Children:
Biography:

Miscellaneous:

Pets:
Weapons:
Starship Qualifications:
Droid:


One last thing, as a part of your character bio please include something that makes them a candidate for Black Sheep Squadron. Something that makes them stand out as a misfit or castoff that any regular squadron wouldn't want to touch with a two meter force pike. If you would like to keep that secret from your fellow players at the beginning of the game (to reveal it through your posting as the game goes on) you may excise it from your final posted sheet, but please include it for the GM so I can ensure this vital character trait is indeed included in your character makeup.

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As always, feel free to PM me any questions you have about joining the game. This game is intended for players of all skill levels, from novices on up though experienced role players, so oldbies, help out the newbies, and newbies, don't be worried about making mistakes, we all do. So long as we're all having fun, I figure we're doing well.​

 

Approved by me.

General Information:

Character's Name: Atin Taab
Callsign: Scorch
Species: Mandalorian (Human)
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Lieutenant, Alliance to Restore the Republic (Rebel Alliance)
Languages: Basic, mando'a, droidspeak smatterings of Huttese
Residence: Wherever assigned by Rebel command, currently Hoth
Home Planet: Ranklinge
Age: 18
Approved Special Features: As a Mandalorian warrior, Atin has developed a wide and varied skillset including: Hand to hand combat arts, ranged combat arts, combat tactics and planning, combat scout, long range marksman and combat pilot. He also a basic proficiency as a field medic though his skills there are limited to patching wounds and setting broken bones.

Character Traits:

Personality: Eager to please and do his part to make a difference. Has a quick temper, especially when it comes to something that he feels is wrong.
Habits/Mannerisms: Writes holo-letters to his father which he keeps stored on his helmet's onboard computer as he knows he can never send them. Keeps and wears a beret (when his helmet isn't on) taken from a solider killed during the SouthCont Civil War on his homeworld of Ranklinge
Likes/Dislikes: Likes doing the "right thing", despises injustice and as a perfectionist hates being seen to fail at anything.
Racial Traits: None

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: At age 18 he has not yet entered his prime physically. Light of frame he is a quick runner, though is slowed by his Mandalorian armor.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Has issues with adapting when things don't go according to plan.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Is easily set off by what he percieves to be an injustice and will do anything in his power to correct the situation, even at cost to himself and comrades.

Looks:

Appearance:
Picture:






Eye Color: Brown
Hair/Fur: Brown
Skin Color: Fair
Clothing: Mandalorian armor. The plates are made of durasteel rather than beskar to keep the weight down. His helmet though is forged from Mandalorian Iron.



Personal History:

Immediate Family: Clan Taab
Spouse/Children: None
Biography:

---Personal History: Atin Taab was born as Marcus (his real surname has long been forgotten, if he ever knew it at all) in 15 BBY on the Southern Continent (SouthCont) of Ranklinge and grew up in a standard middle class household. He didn't really know what his mother or father did for a living, but knew that they went to work each evening and his grandfather came over to watch him while they were gone. It was a loving household and young Marcus never knew want or fear. Until one day when he was only five years old he heard loud noises from off in the distance while his grandfather seemed glued to the holo-news. His parents didn't come home that night. His grandfather explained to him that a civil war had broken out on SouthCont, and his parents had been caught in the crossfire. Marcus didn't understand what it meant at the time, but as the days turned to weeks and everything got worse he knew that his world had changed.

His grandfather tried to protect Marcus as best he could, but he was old and had a heart condition. Within a year he too had died and Marcus was left all alone. Too young to be conscripted by the forces of one of the various factions Marcus learned to scavange to survive. He left his home and slept in a new place every night, never bringing more with him then he needed at the moment. He survived like that for five years, avoiding the patrols of the factions, the food gangs and other scavengers, until he was found by an armored man from whom Marcus couldn't get away. He fed Marcus and told him how impressed he was with him for surviving this long. He also offered Marcus a way out of the death and destruction that surrounded him, a way to take charge of his own future and ensure no one ever tried to hurt him again. Marcus agreed and from then on he was called Atin by the armored man, a man that Atin would now call father.

---Military History: Atin spent the next five years training with his new father. Most Mandalorian children begin training with their fathers at age eight and take the verd'goten at age thirteen. But Atin wasn't found and adopted until he was already ten which led an accelerated series of "real world" courses designed to make him an exceptional warrior. During that time the pair acted as hired muscle for bank robberies, VIP protection on various worlds, targeted assassinations, and so on. Atin's last test proved to be a life altering one for him, as they worked for a mercenary band with ties to the Rebel Alliance. While there Atin learned of the cruelty and depravity of the Empire, traits his father had hidden from him previously. As their time with the mercenary group went on, Atin found himself sypathizing more and more with the Rebel cause. The final straw was his learning of his adopted homeworld's subjegation by the Empire. Splitting with his father (who didn't allow politics to intrude on his personal or professional life) Atin left the mercanry group and joined the rebellion where he became highly valued for his commando and piloting skills. His current assignment is to Thunderbolt Squadron, whose B-Wing assault fighters are often down for maintainence.

---Traumatic Experiences: The loss of his parents at such a young age coupled with the conditions thereafter have made a lasting mark on Atin.


Miscellaneous:

Pets: None
Weapons: Normally carries a blaster carbine, and a holstered blaster pistol. Armor is outfitted with an array of other weapons including a flame projector, wrist rockets, poison darts, various blades and blasters and of course the traditional jetpack with warhead launcher.
Starship Qualifications: Various, including YT-1300 light freighter, T-65 X-Wing, T-47 Snowspeeder and A/SF-01 B-wing starfighter. Currently assigned to A/SF-01 B-wing starfighter which he has named the Iron Cross
Droid: None

Note: Those familiar with the Intervention series of games here in the RPF will remember Atin from his appearance in both Intervention and Echoes in Eternity.

 

GM APPROVED

Character's Name: Jocelyn Sunwalker
Callsign: Joy
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Former Imperial Lieutenant, currently a Sergeant in the Rebel Navy
Languages: Basic, some Huttese (mostly cursing), droidspeak
Residence: Wherever posted
Home Planet: Coruscant
Age: 29
Approved Special Features: Received Commando Training in the Coruscant Academy along with the necessary skillset.

Character Traits:
Personality: Reserved, cold, distant, thoughtful, comes out as a bit arrogant, loyal
Habits/Mannerisms: Always studying her new environment, a bit paranoid from being in the ISB’s crosshairs
Likes/Dislikes: Likes order, justice, family, Dislikes disloyalty, chaos, stupidity
Racial Traits: None

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: She is lean and relatively athletic. Can endure hardship.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Highly intelligent, has difficulty carrying orders which she thinks are stupid.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Cold and distant, but has a good heart

Looks:
Appearance:
Picture:



Eye Color: Dark Brown
Hair/Fur: Black
Skin Color: Light brown
Clothing: Usually black and practical when not in uniform, Standard Rebel pilot coveralls

Personal History:

Immediate Family: Father: former Imperial Admiral K’rill Sunwalker (arrested), Mother: Dennii Sunwalker (arrested)
Spouse/Children: None
Biography:
Born on Coruscant in the family of a high ranking Republic officer Jocelyn grew up in army camps around the Galaxy as her father was reassigned to different worlds. During the Clone Wars she and her mother had to return to their family home on Coruscant for their own protection. She spent the rest of her childhood there playing with figures resembling fighters and starships. Her mother constantly following the war trying to find out something about her husband, so Jocelyn grew up with images of combat.

When she was old enough she enlisted in the newly formed Imperial Academy and with the help of her father’s connections she enrolled the one on Coruscant. She excelled in her class, becoming one of the best pilots of the Academy. After graduation her career started, moving up the ladder to reach the rank of Lieutenant and her own command of a TIE Fighter Squadron.

The mysterious alien Grand Admiral Thrawn took notice of her and had her transferred to Lothal. He wanted to have people who were not so rigid and unimaginative in their combat tactics as the usual Imperial pilot. She was to fly the still experimental TIE Defender. It was then when she found out that her father had fallen out of favor and that the ISB was breathing in her neck for her to make a mistake to take her out. During her time under Thrawn’s command she had taken part in live-fire operations against rebels and even exchanged shots with the infamous crew of the Ghost.

She was transferred once more in a remote but secret facility where she was to train a new batch of pilots to use the TIE Defenders. Things seemed to have settled down, but Jocelyn caught wind that the ISB were going to arrest her as she had heard of the charges that were made against her father. Before she could be arrested she managed to steal a shuttle and run away.

Not knowing what to do Jocelyn joined the Rebellion. She did not share all of their ideals, but joining them was better than becoming a pirate or a smuggler as she was a soldier to her bones. The Rebels did not trust her much and was assigned to a cumbersome Y-wing. Due to her being a former Imperial she was not included in the Battle of Scarif and the Battle of Yavin. But she proved her loyalty to the new cause and was given more responsible missions, her squadron mates called her Joy as a kind-hearted joke as she was always serious and a bit distant. Her latest assignment was on Hoth providing ground support in case of an assault on Echo Base.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: an orange colored Tooka called Carols
Weapons: Couple of DL-18 Blaster Pistols
Starship Qualifications: TIE Defender, TIE Fighter, TIE Interceptor, X-wing, BTL-A4 Y-wing Assault Starfighter/Bomber (currently flying)
Droid: stolen and reprogrammed Imperial astromech R2-K7 “Shadow”

 

GM APPROVED

General Information:​

Character's Name: Maxime “Max” Pallas
Callsign: "Max"
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Flight Officer
Languages: Basic, Corellian (speaks); binary and several programming languages (understands)
Residence: with Rebel Alliance on Hoth (last address was planet of Sharan, in the Mid-Rim, where her father still lives
Birth Planet: Corellia
Age: 22-23
Approved Special Features: She is not Force Sensitive, although she has a fire crystal as a good luck charm

Character Traits: Cautious, very superstitious
Personality: Reserved, cautious
Habits/Mannerisms: Wears a metallic headband or headwrap with metallic threads, likes to sit with her back against a wall, facing the door, has a few private pre-flight rituals

Racial Traits: Corellians are known for their stubbornness and pragmatism, as well as occasional streaks of recklessness, especially when the odds are against them.

Strengths and Weaknesses: She is constantly practicing marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat and flight skills, hoping that this will give her an edge in a survival situation. She tries to learn as much as possible about as many subjects as possible for the same reason.

She knows a lot about making alcohol. She’s advised a few of her Rebel colleagues on improvements that they could make to their illicit stills to improve the quality of their product.

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Average for a human female in good physical condition

Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Intelligent, good at maintaining focus on a task, but superstitious and somewhat paranoid.

Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Loyal and protective of those she considers friends; she also has the famous Corellian stubbornness, which she considers “tenacity.” Fairly calm in an emergency situation and doesn’t panic easily, although too many unlucky factors can make her anxious and edgy.

Looks: Attractive, but not exceptional. She doesn’t pay a lot of attention to her appearance
Eye Color: Gray
Hair/Fur: Dark brown
Skin Color: Pale
Clothing: Standard issue uniform, her civvies are comfortable and practical.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: Derin Pallas, her father, is still alive, was last known to be on Sharan. He is a data security systems specialist, mostly working for corporations and local governments
Spouse/Children: None

Pets: none.

Weapons: Rebel issued Blastech DH-17, although she has a unitool on her at most times, which she can use as a weapons in a pinch.
Starship (if any): Rebel issued, she prefers X-wings but will fly what she’s given. She's mostly flown Z-95 Headhunters, when serving with the Bandits
Droid (if any): She was given an astromech while with the Rebels on Sharan which she has grown fond of and calls Digger. She’s programmed several useful hacking systems into it, and can use it to run data analysis.

Biography: Max was born on Corellia and lived there for 12 years, until her mother’s death in an industrial accident. She and her father moved around the, with her father taking several jobs as a maintenance worker or as a data systems security consultant, using his slicing and analyst skills to track what the Empire was doing, as he had been opposed to Palpatine’s rise since before Max’s birth.

Eventually, they settled on the small planet of Sharan in the Mid Rim, near the Manda Merchant Run. Max became involved in the local Rebellion cell, originally just by using her slicing skills to hack official Imperial signs and broadcasts to leave rude messages about the Emperor, then later, to gather intelligence and information on local Imperial activities. Their cell merged with the larger Rebel cell operating in that sector, “Boraska’s Bandits.”

After the Battle of Yavin, they heeded the call from the High Council to come and help evacuate what was left of the Rebel fleet. Max and the Bandits (what’s left of them) have been serving with the Rebels ever since. Her father is still on Sharan.

Max does remember her childhood on Corellia, and longs to return one day. But she knows that won’t happen until the Empire is defeated.​

 

GM approved!

General Information:

Character's Name: Zara Yaren
Callsign: Zero
Species: Twi’lek
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Flight Officer
Languages: Basic, Ryl (Twi’leki), some Droidspeak
Residence: Wherever assigned, currently Hoth
Home Planet: Denon
Age: 27
Approved Special Features: Skilled sniper and experienced gunner

Character Traits:
Personality: While not the friendliest person, Zara tries to avoid people rather than letting her abrasive nature turn them against her. However, under that hard exterior, she’s a woman of multitudes. While outwardly unfriendly, she hides her compassionate nature as she thinks it’s a weakness, and likewise represses most of her deeper emotions to keep from being hurt, as she assumes most of those around her will die anyway. She’s honest and a little too blunt, but she’s also quietly passionate, wanting nothing more than to see the end of the Empire. Cautious by nature, she’s not likely to jump into unknown situations without thinking them through first. She’s also a notable pessimist, and will give up quickly on any missing or captured comrades.
Habits/Mannerisms: Dark sense of humour; always tries to keep busy so her mind doesn’t wander; forgets to eat when stressed; sings or hums to herself when thinking hard or when alone
Likes/Dislikes: She enjoys a long sleep, a strong drink, and gambling with colleagues-- name your game and Zara will play, whether Pazaak, Sabacc, Pod-racing, or Limmie. More privately, she enjoys a bootleg romantic holo-novel and a quiet sunrise. She will complain bitterly in any hot weather, preferring the cool weather of her home planet (but not Hoth cold), and anyone who tries to snoop in her personal business will earn her everlasting ire. Zara also dislikes Corellians on principle, since, in her experience, their tendency to take risks gets people killed.
Racial Traits: None of note

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Relatively fit, can handle running and climbing, especially when being chased by Imperials, but never trained in close combat beyond the absolute basics and so is not much help in a fight without a blaster.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Zara can focus and be patient even in highly distracting situations due to her past as a sniper. She also tends to be judgemental and makes assumptions about others before getting to know them, and she can be a bit awkward or uncomfortable when in casual social situations.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Doesn’t let others get close to keep herself from getting hurt; badly wants vengeance on those that destroyed the Denon cell; while notably unfriendly, more likely to give Imperial defectors a chance than most.


Looks:
Appearance: Average height, slim but fit
Picture:

Eye Color: Blue-green
Hair/Fur: None
Skin Color: Purple
Clothing: Practical layers to keep warm and protect from minor damage. Reinforced elbows and knees, lots of pockets. Keeps to neutral colours like tans and greens when possible. Pilot gear a standard A-wing red flightsuit, and modified helmet to accommodate her head-tails.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: Tal Yaren (father, arrested, status unknown), Nirru Yaren (mother, arrested, status unknown)
Known associates: Jarel Fradin (Corellian, Imperial defector, deceased), Yvan Sifer (Human, former Rebel, Imperial officer stationed on Denon, alive)
Biography:
Zara’s childhood was never an easy one, but that never meant it was a bad life. Her mother disappeared when she was very young, and her father kept it a secret that she’d been arrested so Zara didn’t get scared. Her father and Zara worked hard to make ends meet, with Zara doing small jobs, errands, or helped her father whenever she could pick up a spare credit. With little money, the two entertained themselves in other ways: watching silly holo-comedies, singing together in their small home, and wandering the sprawling city to sightsee.

In her early teens, Zara’s father started acting oddly, disappearing at strange hours and coming home late, but never with any extra credits to show he’d been working, as he always claimed he was. While she grew suspicious, Zara never had any idea what he was up to until she overheard a report that he’d been arrested as an anti-Imperial rebel. When she rushed to the nearby Imperial station, convinced there must have been some mistake, another rebel found and stopped her from getting involved, explaining that he’d promised to keep Zara safe if anything happened to her father, and that he was, in fact, a rebel.

Initially angry and unwilling to believe her father would act out against the Empire, Zara changed her mind when the Empire made her father disappear within their prison system with no explanation. Though still barely fifteen, she sought out the rebel who’d stopped her, and insisted on joining them.

With few to no useful skills, and the cell uncomfortable with putting a teenager into the line of fire, they trained her to fly, something Zara took to immediately. They used her as air support and a getaway pilot, and had her learn to fly all sorts of odd vehicles for that role: haulers, lifters, cargo ships, speeders, and more. She preferred the faster ones, but found joy in flying and supporting the other rebels as they hit Imperial centres and military installations all over Denon.

As she got older, the cell trained her with blasters, since she was still a little small to be able to handle herself in physical combat against the usually larger Stormtroopers. Initially, she was so bad she earned the nickname “Zero” for how many targets she hit, but the young Twi’lek stuck with it, training and practicing until she claimed it was for how many targets she missed.

At nineteen, the cell got her to go undercover at an Imperial training facility as a janitor to steal some of their data, since the Imperials would look down on and ignore an alien. One of the young officers, a sniper, figured her out and she managed to convince him to help her rather than turning her in. Once they acquired the data, the Imperial, Jarel Fradin, asked to join her, admitting he’d been looking for a way to get out for a while but was afraid of Imperial retribution. Despite being the one to recruit him, Zara didn’t like Jarel at first, until he offered to train her as a sniper, like him, since she was often providing support at a distance and it would allow her to cover their team better than she already did. She took to the long-distance rifle much faster than pistols or even carbines. And eventually, she took to Jarel as well, and the two end up together, finding love even at the worst of times. But it didn’t last.

A few years later, the entire Denon cell was caught in a trap and arrested or killed-- all except Zara, who was outside of the Imperials’ range when the trap was sprung. Even while fighting, they ordered Zara out, and she reluctantly escaped with Imperials on her tail. The cell that had been her family for six years was gone. Afterwards, she managed to find another rebel cell and joined them, relaying what had happened on Denon so it wouldn’t happen again. Distraught by everyone she knew being dead, Zara threw herself into the fight against the Empire, rotating through different cells as needed. Later, she got word of how her cell had been betrayed from the inside, how one of them, Yvan Sifer, had sold them all out for a cushy office job in the Imperial military, how the cell hadn’t all been killed right away but imprisoned and interrogated. How she might have been able to rescue some of them if she’d gone back instead of running away as ordered. The guilt over not rescuing them led her to decide that she will take her revenge on Sifer, even if it takes years, but with few resources and support she knew it was going to be difficult or even unlikely, so she stayed with the rebels.

When in her mid-twenties, Zara got an opportunity to fly in a Y-wing squadron desperate for pilots. While she’d never flown a Starfighter before, she found she enjoyed being part of a team again instead of watching the action from a distance. While sometimes she was assigned as gunner, due to her history as a sniper, she preferred being in the pilot’s seat. Unfortunately, that squadron, like many in the rebellion, had a high attrition rate and Zara found herself closing off from her squadmates. She didn’t fly at Scarif or Yavin due to an injury, but rejoined a new A-wing squadron after the Death Star’s destruction, where she found she preferred the speed and profile of the ship.


Miscellaneous:

Pets: None
Weapons: E-11s long-range blaster (stolen from Imperials on Denon), DL-18 blaster pistol
Starship Qualifications: versatile, experience with ground vehicles and small civilian transports; Y-wing, A-wing (current)
Droid: None

 

(GM approved, thanks Bardan!)

General Information

Character’s Name: Foodie
Callsign: N/A
Species: 434-FPC personal chef droid
Gender: Male personality
Rank/Affiliation: None in particular yet
Languages: Not quite 6 million forms of communication, but a fair few anyway.
Residence: Echo Base as of the beginning of this story; previously Coruscant.
Home Planet: Etti IV
Age: 40 standard years, give or take.
Approved Special Features: Foodie was never memory-wiped and has developed a personality of his own. He’s as close to a sentient droid as it gets. He is able to acquire new skills instantly as long as the programming software for them is available.

Character Traits

Personality: Being a luxury cooking droid that was marketed to the most affluent citizens of the galaxy, Foodie is a bit of a prissy snob, but he’s willing to make concessions about the lack of finery in Rebel facilities so as to do his bit in overthrowing the Empire. He’s fiercely loyal and devoted to the ideals of the Alliance and will find/scrounge/steal whatever is needed in order to make his team happy.

Habits/Mannerisms: He has a big mouth where his snobbery is concerned and tends to lament the poor quality of the products he has to work with since he joined the Rebellion. He also likes to remind everyone that he was a winner of the Golden Roasting Award of the Pan-Galactic Kahve Society in the years leading up to the Clone Wars (kahve being the GFFA version of Turkish coffee).

Likes/Dislikes: He feels strongly about injustice and prejudice, especially when they are directed at aliens and droids. He likes to see his friends well-fed and cared for (or well-charged and oiled in the case of droids), and his concern for their well-being extends to keeping an eye on the condition of their ships/speeders/other equipment. He hates being told that 1) as a personal chef droid, he’s pretty useless to the Alliance, and 2) the shape of his head reminds people of Darth Vader.

Racial Traits: N/A

Strengths and Weaknesses

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: As a chef droid Foodie benefits from his tall, sturdy build and the variety of cooking utensils that are embedded in his limbs or enclosed in the compartment behind his chestplate. However he is not designed for combat and the alloy he is built of is nowhere near as resistant as durasteel. Being an older model he also has a few squeaky servomotors.

Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: He’s very creative and can come up with unexpected uses for his various cooking tools. At the same time, he is limited by the fact that he is a droid and cannot acquire entirely new skills without additional programming.

Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: He misses the group of human, alien and droid friends he had on Coruscant before joining the Alliance and his constant daydreaming can cause him to be a little airheaded. The way he was perceived when he first joined the Alliance offended and hurt him (see biography below) and he acts constantly as if he needs to prove himself.

Looks

Appearance: He is a tall, bipedal, humanoid-shaped droid, fully equipped with all manners of cooking appendages (everything from whisks to bread knives to skewers) that unfold/slide out of his limbs. Further utensils and spare parts, as well a few hydrospanners and other mech tools that he gathered over the course of his travels, are stored in a compartment behind his chestplate. In addition to his standard features, he welded a holster to his right thigh so as to be able to carry a blaster.
Picture: see here (hopefully I can make time to Photoshop it a little so as to add a few features, notably the blaster)
Eye Color: Yellow photoreceptors
Hair/Fur: N/A
Skin Color: Chrome plating
Clothing: He is known to don an apron while in the kitchen/galley.

Personal History

Immediate Family: N/A (although his friends back on Coruscant could be thought of as family)
Spouse/Children: N/A
Biography:

Foodie was built by Cybot Galactica in the waning years of the Republic and began his career as a chef in the service of Senator Zurros of the Falleen. Zurros was a gourmet who not only expected Foodie to perform to the best of his specifications but also made sure that his droid could improve himself. He regularly asked Foodie to escort him to the Manarai so as to spy on the restaurant’s recipes and even had him train with Jedi Master Zao, a fact that Foodie is very proud of. This is also the time when he won the Golden Roasting Award during the 1515th Congress of the Pan-Galactic Kahve Society.

At the end of the Clone Wars Zurros was exposed as a double agent for the CIS. His property was seized and later distributed to Imperial loyalists. Foodie thus found himself in indentured servitude to a horrible, stingy, hysterical Falleen princess named Xerola. Together with the rest of the household staff (which included humans, aliens and droids), he conspired to assassinate Princess Xerola, frame her surveillance droid for the crime and inherit what family fortune she hadn’t dilapidated yet. The crew subsequently used their inheritance to open a luxury hairdressing/grooming salon in CoCo Town with the hope of living an uneventful life. Foodie spent some fifteen years cooking for his friends and serving boontaspice-flavoured kahve to the hairdressing salon’s patrons, but his long-term ambition was to save enough credits to open a restaurant of his own.

However, Foodie and his friends sought to correct injustice where they saw it. The salon ended up being their cover and livelihood while they became embroiled in a series of adventures involving corrupt bureaucrats, mobsters, slavers and cruel Imperials. They were generally successful, but Foodie grew restless at the suffering that the Empire was inflicting on the population of Coruscant. The fact that he hadn’t undergone a memory wipe for more than 15 years only added to his restlessness and he started to take things very personally.

Shortly after the Battle of Yavin, one of their operations went downhill. Foodie in particular wasn’t able to hide his identity and found himself in the crosshairs of the Coruscant constabulary. His friends tried to convince him to simply hide at home until the Empire was overthrown, but he chose to join the Alliance to Restore the Republic instead. It took him a while to find a network that would lead him to the Rebellion. He was finally able to join the crew of an Alliance ship that brought him to Echo Base only a few weeks before the Battle of Hoth.

Alliance logistics were unimpressed with Foodie’s skills and abilities and they didn’t allocate him to any particular service. He was left to drift in the Echo Base hangar bay, performing small tasks here and there and learning about the Alliance and its military from the other droids. He was involved in a few arguments when he heard Alliance ground staff discuss how they could reprogram him entirely to turn him into a protocol droid or a mechanic, and once he deployed all his cooking appendages against a technician who was threatening to dismantle him for spare parts. He is now determined to prove that personal chef droids should be thought of as valued members of the Rebel Alliance.

Miscellaneous

Pets: N/A
Weapons: A Clone Wars-era DC-17 hand blaster
Starship Qualifications: None as a pilot, but he has programmed himself with sufficient knowledge of starship mechanics and engineering so as to be able to keep an eye on speeders and ships.
Droid: N/A

 

GM approved


General Information:

Character's Name: Ethan Malek
Callsign: Veteran
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Sergeant
Languages: Basic, Huttese, bits and pieces of a several minor languages
Residence: Usually on the Rebel Cruiser he is assigned to
Home Planet: Eriadu (originally)
Age: 49
Approved Special Features:-

Character Traits:

Personality: stoic, friendly
Habits/Mannerisms: Tends to dream/speak about retiring from the military and living a civilian life in a very idealized way
Likes/Dislikes: Likes telling stories, keeping the people around him alive Dislikes loosing people of his squadron, war crimes
Racial Traits: none

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Ethan was a rather well trained human, though he is getting old.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: He knows a lot about fighting and the galaxy as a whole. Though he can be rather patronizing at times. He also has regular nightmares.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Usually remains stoic and in control during the heat of battle but the weight of decades of fighting is weighting on him.

Looks:

Appearance: Average height, several scars, short hair, beard stubble
Eye Color: blue
Hair/Fur: Black(graying)
Skin Color: pale
Clothing: Rebel Flight Suit on Missions, simple dark clothes as casual wear

Personal History:

Immediate Family: Parents( both deceased of natural causes)
Spouse/Children: none
Biography: Ethan Malek was born into a rather poor but loving family on the outer rim world Eriadu. From his early childhood his parents thought him to life honorable, protecting the weak and fighting those who act unjust. During his time in school he was mostly average aside from a talent for flying. This talent lead to him being recruited into the Outland Regions Security Force where he severed under the later Grand Moff Tarkin, protecting the sector against pirate attacks. After the beginning of the clone wars Ethan along with many other ORSF veterans volunteered to fight for the republic army. During the CW Ethan commanded a unit of volunteers and fought in several battles.

When the wars came to an end Ethan and the others were absorbed into the imperial army continuing their service. Though over time Ethan became disgusted of the empire seeing it as evil and without honor leading to his eventual desertion. Afterwards he became a mercenary fighting in various conflicts all over the galaxy from the Hutt space to the unknown regions. Though despite being a mercenary Ethan always remained honorable and refused jobs that would hurt innocents.
Then almost a decade after he deserted the imperial forces Ethan like many other beings of the galaxy was infuriated by the destruction of Alderaan by the empire. He decided to no longer just try to avoid the empire but to actively fight it, joining the rebel alliance. Though in the alliance many mistrusted him for being a former mercenary and imperial which lead to Ethan becoming somewhat of an outsider.
Until he was recruited for the Black Sheep Squadron.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: none
Weapons: Blaster, Vibro Combat Knife
Starship Qualifications: X-Wing, Tie Fighter, various mercenary ships
Droid: Astromech

 

GM Approved. He may live to regret that decision.

Character's Name: Kayn Balzroth
Callsign: Mean Streak
Species: Devaronian
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Lieutenant
Languages: Devaronian, Basic, Binary, pidgin Huttese (mostly insults)
Residence: No fixed address, like many Devaronians
Home Planet: Devaron
Age:30
Approved Special Features: Lifelike cybernetic eye. Extensive neural cybernetics including wired interfaces, commlink, and passive sensor arrays. Aside from the eye, all the electronics are installed in his horns and disguised as decorative piercings and inlays.

Character Traits:
Personality: Cutting sense of humor. Thinks he has a flair for the dramatic. Doesn't respond well to being contradicted or overruled. Very critical of his leader's decisions.
Habits/Mannerisms: Thinks he's a musician and practices on his omnibox at all hours. When bored, he often trims his fingernails with one of his knives.
Likes/Dislikes: Likes making Imps look like fools so that they feel really stupid right before he kills them. Dislikes Imps, especially Bureau Of Ships and Services.
Racial Traits: Sharp, pointy teeth and long curling horns.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Fit, strong, agile, and fast.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Smart and strong-willed, but easily annoyed by everyone who doesn't seem as smart as he thinks he is. "People who think they know everything annoy the frack out of those of us who do."
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: He tries to keep his mean streak under control when he's with friends and allies, but when he's dealing with Imps he likes to let his control slip... "just a little!"

Looks:
Appearance: Devilishly handsome. Just ask him, he'll tell you.
Picture:

Eye Color: red
Hair/Fur: rust-colored goatee
Skin Color: ruddy
Clothing: Flight suits and flight jackets. Devaronian life support collar (a flexible transparent plastic membrane folded into the back of his collar. If he has to go EVA he pulls it up over his head, down over his face and fastens it to the front of his collar to form a bubble around his head. It holds a few minutes worth of air, just enough to get him rescued if help is nearby. It's a lot more convenient than trying to find a flight helmet that fits over his horns.)

Personal History:
Immediate Family: Parents and siblings on Devaron. Mother is CEO of a medical equipment manufacturer. Father is an award-winning theoretical mathematician and dean of a prestigious math academy. Siblings are boring drones who ride on their parents' accomplishments (his opinion).
Spouse/Children: Never married. Could have children from his years of hedonistic living as a famous starship racer, who knows?
Biography: Short version: Space racer with checkered past. Long version:

Spoiler

Kayn was born the black sheep of his family. (Yes, I decided that days before B_J named the squadron.) His parents were comfortably ensconced in high levels of Devaronian society, which Kayn found deadly dull, so he snuck out of the family mansion every chance he got to go play with the cool kids on the wrong side of town. He became an expert at back-alley knife-fighting and learned to hotwire speeders. Street-racing on stolen swoops was the biggest thrill ever.

That part of his life ended when he was caught up in a gang turf war and got stabbed in the eye. His parents' influence kept him out of jail and his mother's connections got him a top-of-the-line cybernetic eye. To keep him out of prison, his parents finally gave up trying to make him respectable and sponsored him in a professional speeder racing circuit. He learned to take advantage of his cyber-enhanced vision while he raced and spent most of his winnings on upgraded cyber-sensory enhancements. Soon he moved up to racing skyhoppers, where he got his favorite device implanted, a neural interface that plugged his brain directly into the ship's computers and allowed him to fly it by thought, as well as read sensory input directly into his brain.

When he began racing starships in hyperspace, he discovered that he had inherited his father's mathematical brain and was a prodigy at astrogation. After upgrading his brainpower with computer chips, he was remarkably fast and accurate at programming jumps.

Kayn was moving up fast in the galactic race standings when the Imperial bureaucracy decided to shut him down, he assumes they just didn't like an alien who could outfly most of the human pilots. BOSS impounded his ship for alleged safety concerns, and then revoked his pilot medical certificate on the grounds that he was flying without properly tested and authorized cybernetics. He tried to fight them in court but didn't even get past the initial hearing. When a recruiter from the Alliance offered to put him in a cockpit, he was ready to go.

He proved himself a talented pilot with the rebels, but he has a well-deserved reputation as a lone-wolf. All too often he breaks formation to make single-handed attacks on Imp ships. One of these days, his lack of teamwork is going to get him killed.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: none
Weapons: Relby k23 blaster pistol with scope linked to his neural interface. http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Relby-k23_blaster_pistol Several knives, some carried openly, a couple hidden badly.
Starship Qualifications: Speeders, swoops, skyhoppers, race ships, Longprobe recon Y-wing, X-wing, A-wing
Droid: If there's an astromech in the socket, it's just another component of the ship as far as Kayn is concerned.

 

Bardan_Jusik Approved

Character's Name: Ianna Mcear
Callsign: Kid
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Flight Officer
Languages: Basic
Residence: None right now but, parents have a farm back on Chandila
Home Planet: Chandila
Age: 19
Approved Special Features: none

Character Traits: Talkative, bouncy, smiles easily
Personality:Friendly, bubbly, a little naive
Habits/Mannerisms: Will often sway her head to songs only she can hear, jiggles her leg when nervous, smiles also when she’s nervous or in trouble.
Likes: Limmie, her family, harmony between her teammates.
Dislikes:Evil, wasting food, cheating, and lying
Racial Traits: none

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Very strong for her age, but, isn't very dexterous. She can still shoot straight but, don't ask her to write anything with a pen, or do delicate mechanical work.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Infused with a salt of the ground 'can do' spirit, can become easily frustrated when her 'elbow' grease fails to fix a problem won't give up once she's set her mind on something.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Endlessly optimistic, nothing can seem to break her, can be rather naive due to her sheltered upbringing.

Looks: Young with slightly rounded cheeks giving her a somewhat child like appearance. Brown freckles dot the space between her green eyes. She keeps her long dark blonde hair braided or coiled up under her helmet in a 'sloppy' bun.
Appearance: Short 150cm (~4'11") with a stocky frame (Daddy always said I was build like a Dwarf Staga) generally wears her uniform or flight suit when on duty but, in her downtime she’ll wear her green and white Chandrila Patriots limmie jersey.
Picture:

Eye Color: Green
Hair/Fur: Dark blonde
Skin Color: Tanned, though she has a serious 'Farmer’s Tan' her arms, face and neck are tan but, the parts covered by her clothes are fair, some might say 'pasty white.'
Clothing: Standard 'uniform' basically whatever the rebellion had on hand in her size, hardy work clothes and her beloved Chandrila Patriots home jersey, it is still baggy on her even though her father bought it for her when she was 10.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: Javul (Mommy) and Ayx (Daddy) Mcear
Spouse/Children: None (Daddy says I can’t date until I’m 30)
Biography: A young farm girl from Chandrila little Ianna dreamed of growing up and playing limmie for the Chandrila Patriots, after the Empire fell of course. Unfortunately it never did, not while she was growing up. However her family was still helping out the Rebels. Ever since the Empire came to power they’d been selling/giving a portion of their crops to the Rebels. How her daddy kept it from the Empire was a closely guarded secret. Ianna or just Anna to some, grew up secretly meeting smugglers and Rebel envoys helping transfer shipments of grains and freeze dried meat from her family’s speeder to the brave rebel’s transports.

She asked her father why they were just giving them food, surely they needed blasters and grenades and stuff. That was when her father pulled her to the side and told her a secret.

"Little girl," he started putting a burly arm around her shoulders, "A military moves on its stomach." he poked her slightly pudgy belly. "A soldier with a full stomach fights better and, a happy belly keeps the fire of hope burning. Out there on the outer rim, that all some men have. If we can provide them with a hot meal, we can keep the fire burning bright, and hasen the Empire’s fall." Those words stuck with her, soon she was working on the farm birthing staga, and nerfs, running the harvesters and flying her family’s T-16 Skyhopper to oversee their sprawling property.

Eventually she found herself wanting to do more, more than just feed the men and women that were fighting. She wanted to fight herself. Her mommy and daddy threw cold water on that idea but, Anna wouldn’t let it go. Soon she wore down her father and her taught her how to shoot an old hunting rifle he kept around from his younger days, hoping that it would be the end of it. It wasn’t soon she was taking the T-16 out for joyrides, ‘practicing her maneuvers’ she told her parents. There was another round of talking her out of it but, she wouldn’t be stopped she’d made up her mind. She was joining the rebellion and her parents could either approve or not, it didn’t matter.

For her rebellious attitude she was grounded, the irony was not lost on her. However she knew her father was making another delivery to the Rebels that night. So she hatched a plan. She snuck out of her room and creeped into the family speeder lying as still as she could in the bed behind all the crates. She fell asleep only to be woken up by the vehicle beginning to move. Good her plan had worked.

When they reached the meeting place she tried to sneak aboard the Rebel ship but, her father caught her. He scolded her again but, she wouldn’t back down, she wanted to do this with all her being, this was the right thing to do for her. The rebel’s needed more fighters, more warm bellies full of hope and she was bursting with it. The Death Star had been destroyed, the fall was just around the corner now was the time to fight not hide away. Finally her father relented, with tears in both their eyes they embrace and he handed over his battered hunting rifle, the one he trained her on.

"Be safe my little girl." Were his last words to her before she broke away from him and hopped aboard the Rebel ship.

Once in the rebellion she gained the reputation of being something of a natural. Good at everything the trainers could throw at her but, not the best. Her skills seemed to pull her towards the slower moving craft Y-Wings and U-Wings, though she’d shown some skill flying the advanced B-Wings. When she was put through ground training she seemed to excel at rifle shooting, her early training helping with that.

She has received several demerits in her short time with the rebellion. Being out of uniform (Wearing her Limmie jersey during an inspection), loss of valuable war material (Playing Limmie in the hanger and spilling several hundred gallons of ship fuel.) Stealing food (Snuck out of her room after lights out to visit the kitchen for a midnight snack.) Smuggling Contraband (A candy bar from one of her assignments on a inhabited world.) and a litany of other small mistakes that were common to her youth. Her commanders got fed up of dealing with her and kept transferring her to another squadron until she was transferred again.

Soon she found herself near to being transferred again and was told in no uncertain terms that this would be her last chance or she would be sent back home. She had skills but, her naive mistakes were getting in the way of that.

It was time for her to grow up or go back home where they can deal with her. This was a Rebellion, not a daycare. That one day her mistakes were going to get someone injured or worse killed.

Can she straightened up and fly right? Is it even possible for her?

Miscellaneous:

Pets: None
Weapons: "Light Sport" Hunter Blaster Rifle
Starship Qualifications: Incom fighters from her experience with her family’s T-16, Y-Wings and U-Wings from her admittedly rushed training in 'Boot Camp'
Droid: Not her personal one but, one issued to her R2-P4 'Pat' she (yes R2-P4 is a she) is green with white accents, a happy accident.
Other: Bolo-ball, it travels everywhere with her.

 

GM APPROVED!

Character's Name: Meleema "Mel" Ksiur
Callsign: Ring
Species: Human
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Rebel Alliance
Languages: Basic
Home Planet: Taris
Age: 27
Approved Special Features: None

Character Traits:
Personality: Creative. Very private. Loves to work with hands. Relaxed. Flexible. Bored with routine. Can be insensitive. Tries new things frequently.
Habits/Mannerisms: Explores. Builds.
Likes/Dislikes: Being alone, droids, mechanics, swoops, sweet drinks, good food, droids/mean or many people, talking, heat, bad food
Racial Traits: She's human.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: She runs quickly and often, and has good eyesight. She is kind of weak. She is has the GFFA equivalent of Ménière's disease, and had a labyrinthectomy.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Good memory. Learns quickly.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: She has learned not to hold grudges. She doesn't ever actively develop relationships with people.

Looks:
Appearance: Well kept. Fairly short at five feet, seven inches tall.

Eye Color: Brown
Hair/Fur: Dark Brown
Skin Color: Fair
Clothing: She doesn't like being seen without something nice on, not that she doesn't mind getting them dirty. She wears brown/tan shorts most of the time. Her shirts have elbow-length sleeves, and her favorite colors to wear are dark teal and dark red.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: She hasn't kept in touch with her father or mother since joining the rebels.
Spouse/Children: N/A
Biography: As a child, Mel explored much on Taris. Her parents were working most of the time. She studied piloting, and was planning to be in a planetary security force somewhere, when she had her first vertigo episode. To shorten a long story, after the doctors tried to treat it, they performed a labyrinthectomy on her left ear. After this, Mel spent less time with anyone, taking a job as a surveyor. She also took up swoop racing, still done in the underworld of Taris, occasionally winning. After hearing about Alderaan, she joined the Rebellion, but no-one really knows why.

Miscellaneous: Eventually built a hearing aid for her less damaged ear. She modifies her ship's computer so that it wirelessly connects to the hearing aid.
Has some wind chimes and bells in her room. She won't get rid of them, and plays with them.

Pets: None
Weapons: None, but is competent with a blaster.
Starship Qualifications: She is most comfortable on atmospheric craft, but has learned to fly an X-wing.
Droid: None, but fascinated by all that she'd met. She has trouble understanding them now, but still enjoys watching them.

 

GM APPROVED!

Character's Name: Akiva Lurell
Callsign: Wolf
Species: Codru-ji
Gender: Female
Rank/Affiliation: Flight Officer
Languages: Codru-ji, Basic, binary, and a couple of code languages
Residence: Hoth, where else
Home Planet: Munto Cudro
Age: 32
Approved Special Features: Unknown whether this should go here Ex-bodyguard / assassin / kidnapper


Character Traits: Quiet, reserved, and often prone to harsh chiding
Personality: Suspicious of those around her, but willing to open up just enough to have fun.
Habits/Mannerisms: Tries to keep tabs on everyone about her, keeps a back to the wall if able. Often seen flexing her wrists in practice motions.
Likes/Dislikes: Good blades, good ships, and good kahve. Dislikes plain coffee, alcohol, and being caught unprepared.
Racial Traits: Four arms. Supersonic hearing range. Thick skin. Sleep standing upright with aid of harness on ships or anything that might move or have a rocking motion. Semi ambidextrous due to species and training.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Through years of training can use nearly any hand as if it were her dominant, and is very dexterous. Although she is in shape she is not very strong and often is frustrated when working on things as she has to ask someone stronger to tighten the bolt or loosen it to complete any mechanical work if a power tool is not available.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: She has a strong will and ability to juggle many bits of information, but she often has a fatalistic attitude and doesn't want to 'waste her life' on a suicide mission. Often the first to turn back.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Has a hard time not pointing out flaws to superiors and others when she finds their plan or form sloppy. Has no problem with death so long as it's not her own.

Looks: Slim, looks young for her age, and likes to wear ornamental face makeup and chin piece.
Appearance: Typically wears whatever flight suit the alliance can scrounge together, although is collecting an durable leather, vambrace, and electronic shield equipped outfit.
Picture: https://orig00.deviantart.net/5701/f/2015/055/b/e/four_arms_rogue_by_slipled-d71ltza.jpg
or http://www.loresdelsith.net/universo/aliens/bin/codurji07.jpg


Eye Color: Black
Hair/Fur: Black
Skin Color: Pale white
Clothing: Flight suits. Her leather armor kit with vambraces and shield units. And on her private time a 'dancers' outfit as seen above with full makeup and 'accents'.

Personal History:
Immediate Family: Parents died in a botched kidnapping scheme. Brother is last known to be in jail from said job and sister is currently serving a noble family as a high ranking bodyguard after betraying the rest of the family.
Spouse/Children: None. Hadn't gotten around to it yet.
Biography: Born on Munto Cudro the rest of the galaxy never truly mattered in her life. That was the rest of the universes problem, hers was her own life and that of her family. Her family was a poorer subset of the population after her father got laid off when the plant he worked at decided it needed to downsize to increase their profit margin. It was through this that she was originally 'farmed out' to be a play mate for a nobles child while they were both still in their wyrwulf stages. It provided for the rest of her family as odd jobs were not enough to feed five hungry mouths.

After she and the playmate both went through their maturation phases in sequence she was given the option as a now adult Codru-ji to either return to her parents for whatever they could do to train her and send her out in the world or stay on as her friends companion and be trained as a body guard whilst attending advanced education with her. A situation that might otherwise leave the girl in some social situations where the typical body guards might be hard pressed to protect her. She accepted. This also led her to learn to be a good speeder and sky-hopper pilot to avoid kidnappers attempts, as well as training with daggers to use in protection scenarios.

When the schooling was complete she had found her passion in bio-chemistry and had sought a job in the field after leaving her friends service, unfortunately her background and low family status did not earn her a job. So she began taking odd jobs. When she learned what her family was now doing as a career, kidnapping, she decided to help them out when they asked by supplying the tools and devices to incapacitate children and young adults. She even did several of the jobs dirty work getting close enough to use poison blades and needles, as well as piloting escape craft during missions. As due to her limited strength someone else always had to do the heavy lifting. This was also the time she took up dancing as a way to entice guards not to notice what really was going on, as well as using makeup to conceal her identity.

After her family was betrayed by her sister she fled the planet. She knew if her sister could betray them she was not far behind. Joining in with smugglers and odd assassination jobs, as kidnapping seemed to be a very odd subject or profession in the rest of the galaxy. She has always looked over her shoulder, waiting for the betrayal that will end her freedom ever since. It has saved her a couple of times, but largely keeps her isolated.

When she saved a Rebel cell as a favor during a smuggling operation she found herself let go by her current criminal employer who didn't want any, entanglements. Whether Imperial nor psycho fanatics. This led her to cashing in on that favor and 'joining' the rebellion. It wasn't like she had much better to do as after being burned by that crime boss nobody would want to hire her for a while until it all blew over, and with the Empire's anti alien views it was not like she could offer her services to them.

She has stayed ever since, after all, where else will they train you to be a starfighter pilot and use high yield explosives or kill indiscriminately so long as there is a cog between you and your target? She absolutely loves whenever the B-wings are operational, and has sometimes stated she stays partly just because she could never afford one if she left.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: Voorpak male named Chak
Weapons: Various array of daggers hidden on her person, needle vambraces as seen in prior image, small hold out blasters, variety of weapon load out on vambraces.
Starship Qualifications: Landspeeders, skyhoppers, Freighters, Y-wings, B-wings
Droid: Whatever is provided, never bought one for herself.

 

GM Approved​

Dossier​

Character's Name: Nikoloz Dimmall​

Callsign: SQ (pronounced “Skew”) ​

aka Systems Qualified: Enough stick time to qual with all starfighters yet master of none​

aka Square: Based off his “by-the-book” attitude, bookish nature, and square facial features​

Species: Human (Coruscant)​

Gender: Male​

Rank/Affiliation: Flight Officer (Fresh Promotion from Flight Corporal / Machinist 1st Class)​

Languages: Galactic Standard, Understands Droidspeak​

Residence: Aboard whichever ship he is assigned​

Home Planet: Coruscant​

Age: 30​

Approved Special Features: None​

Character Traits: Bookish, Direct, Harsh, Hard-Working, Dependable, Sure, Quiet, Serious​

Personality: Confident and forceful when voicing an opinion or providing insight. Generally reserved however, preferring to observe and reflect first. Can and is often sarcastic.​

Habits/Mannerisms: Always has a rag in hands and cleaning something i.e hands, a tool, parts of a uniform/flight suit, etc. Most often found tinkering with his fighter.​

Likes/Dislikes: Robotics, getting hands “dirty” / Disorder, organics ​

Racial Traits: N/A​

​

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Lean but strong. Has core strength from moving machinery and turning a wrench.​

Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Prefers books and droids to interactions with other organics which makes such interactions... interesting. Does not do well with substance downers, avoids them.​

Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Very by the book/letter of the law. Will try by the book maneuvers before innovating.​

Picture: ​

Appearance: Tall but lean with well defined muscles. Clean or dirty depending on the time of day or how busy he’d been in the hangar. When in his uniform Nik is spotless. He has square shaped head and sharp chiseled facial features.​

Eye Color: Brown​

Hair/Fur: Brown​

Skin Color: Fair​

Clothing: Navy blue mechanics flightsuit, clean or dirty depends on how long ago laundry day was/how busy he's been.​

​

Immediate Family: Perished too early. ​

Spouse/Children: Wife and young child, a boy of six. Keeps a silver holo-locket around his neck that projects a picture of them when opened. ​

Biography: Nikoloz joined the Rebels shortly after the Battle of Yavin and quickly worked his way up to master mechanic. Nik excelled at learning the ins and outs of each of the snubfighters at the Rebellion’s disposal but took great pleasure in working on the X-Wing model. Three years into his service, with a shortage of pilots and Nik’s time behind the stick, he was promoted to Flight Cadet and assigned to Black Sheep Squadron. ​

​

Pets: Tends to a blue flower in his quarters.​

Weapons: Service Special​

Starship Qualifications: If it is a starfighter, he’s had time behind the stick. Mechanics tend to take ships on maintenance checks so he might have more time behind the stick than most of the other pilots of their preferred craft. Prefers the X-Wing. ​

Droid: R5-T9 A very temperamental, emotional, outspoken red and yellow droid. ​

 

GM APPROVED​

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Character's Name: Koruga Vereem Royu’jha
Callsign: ‘Thin Mint’
Species: Hutt
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Clan Royu’jha, Rebel Alliance (Sergeant)
Languages: Huttese, Ryl, Basic (Understood)
Residence: Alliance Fleet
Home Planet: Nal Hutta
Age: 72
Approved Special Features: Incredibly skilled at mathematics, which he applies to business, flight, and mechanics.

Personality: Koruga is a truly repellent individual. Arrogant, impulsive, manipulative, greedy, and hotheaded. At least, that’s how it would appear to his squadron and those around him. Koruga has deeper issues of loss, abandonment, and a lack of self purpose arising from the destruction of his clan, fortune, and place in Hutt society. His personality is mostly a facade constructed to keep up the appearance of a big bad Hutt that he no longer is. He’s actually fairly mild, at least compared to other Hutts, with a dry sense of humor and general wit.

Strengths and Weaknesses: Koruga is mentally fit, with a cunning mind and good hand-eye coordination. However, he is somewhat stunted by his own self-doubt, keeping him from taking any real chances in his personal or professional life. Physically, he is, as you’d expect, a fairly typical Hutt. He is slow and weak in fights, something he tries to compensate for with technology.

Appearance: Koruga is a smaller sized Hutt with pale skin and a light green coloration. He is still very large compared to most species, and has very greasy skin, which requires him to specially modify the vehicles he pilots.

Eye Color: Yellow
Hair/Fur: N/A
Skin Color: Pale Green
Clothing: Portable Wheeled Mount (Custom treads that allow him slightly faster movement over flat surfaces)

​

The Symbol of Clan Royu'jha​

Biography: Koruga was born the eldest child of Clan Royu’jha, a moderately wealthy and influential clan based within Hutt space. As was typical, he began helping to manage his family’s criminal enterprises, including spice mining, slave trading, weapons trafficking, and smuggling. They even entered into a very profitable deal with the Galactic Empire to supply indigenous peoples were forced off-world to Imperial labor camps to help propel their war machine. However, this came to a close as the head of the Clan, Toruuva Vereem Royu’jha, tried to double their profits by selling weapons to the fledgling Rebel Alliance. When the Empire learned of their treachery, the ISD Rampage was sent to deal with them. Their villa was bombed into submission, the entire family destroyed in a single strike.

Everyone, except for Koruga, who had been taken into Imperial custody before the massacre.

When the Rebel Alliance raided the camp he was held in, he agreed to join the Alliance, under the guise that he could help the Alliance financially in the future. But, deep down, his true motives are to avenge his family.

Now, as a pilot and supply sergeant in the Alliance, the Hutt tries to find a place for himself as his outer shell and racial stigma keep everyone around him away.

Pets: N/A
Weapons: X-11;4 Rotary Blaster
Starship Qualifications: Shuttles, Incom Starfighters (w/ modified controls)
Droid: R0-Dn, modified Mouse Droid fitted with a small speaker and basic vocabulator for Basic.

 

GM Approved

Name: Cassell Wystari
Callsign: Skipper
Species: Corellian (Human)
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Lieutenant (Captain onboard his own vessel)/ Alliance
Languages: Basic and Corellian. Can understand but not speak several others including Shyriiwook, Twi’leki and Huttese.
Residence: Sleeps onboard his Corellian YT-2000 light freighter, Valkyria. Where the ship is berthed depends on circumstances.
Home Planet: Corellia
Age: 42
Approved Special Features (any force sensitivity would go here ): Knowledge of vehicles and regions. Capable of theatrics for undercover roles.

Character Traits:
Personality: Good humoured, looks out for the team as though family, a storyteller when provoked, has a booming laugh that is infectious. Can be aggressive in the heat of battle. Stern when need be, heart in the right place. Loyal to a fault.
Habits/Mannerisms: Has a distinct strong voice, can be a bit charismatic and theatrical.
Likes/Dislikes: Likes to enjoy peace and quiet. Sharing and good company / Dislikes droids that speak back and slavery.
Racial Traits: Corellian, never tell them the odds.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Not as a fast or agile as the others but has a solid hit with his fists and can stand his ground.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Pride for his homeworld and people.
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Cannot help but look out for and encourage others.

Looks:
Appearance: 185 cm tall, solid build,

Picture:


Eye Color: Hazel
Hair/Fur: Dark hair and beard. Kept short, neat and tidy.
Skin Color: Fair, slight tan
Clothing: Alliance issue during missions. Coveralls when maintaining his ship

Personal History:

Immediate Family: Honorary uncle to a close friend’s family.
Spouse/Children: None yet
Biography: Grew up during the Twilight of the Republic and seen the effects the Clone Wars had on the galaxy. Became a pilot and had a job hauling cargo and ferrying passengers. As the Empire took more control and their thirst for resources affect the lives of everyone, he could not stay idle.

He became a freelancers and helped transport people and supplies for the Rebellion, assisted with rescuing defectors to their cause. Earned the nickname ‘Skipper’ for such jobs and it stuck as a callsign. As the Rebellion’s need became dire, he filled roles in various starfighter squadrons and missions.

After learning about Alderaan, spent more time with the Rebellion and does the occasional cargo run and other things to help out.

Miscellaneous:

Pets:
Weapons: Double-sided vibro-axe (A gift but can wield it with high proficiency). GL-77 Blaster Pistol
Starship Qualifications: Corellian ships, larger crafts, X-Wings, Y-Wings, U-Wings where mission parameters
Droid: Repair droid for the Valkyria

 

One last surprise Character Sheet before we get started...

Approved of by me.

General Information:

Character's Name: Beskaryc Taab
Species: Human (Mandalorian)
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Mercenary
Languages: Fluent in Mando'a, basic, Huttese. Can understand but not speak Shyriiwook and droidspeak as well as smatterings of numerous other languages.
Residence: Currently Arca Company Barracks, Corsucant though detached on temporary duty to the Star Destroyer Avenger. Owns a homestead on Concord Dawn maintained by his wife.
Home Planet: Concord Dawn
Age: 53 (born 50 BBY)
Approved Special Features: As a Mandalorian warrior, Taab has developed a wide and varied skill set including: Hand to hand combat arts, ranged combat arts, combat tactics and planning, combat scout, long range marksman and combat pilot. He also a basic proficiency as a field medic though his skills there are limited to patching wounds and setting broken bones.

Character Traits:

Personality: Is generally quiet and uncaring for those around him save for his own family.
Habits/Mannerisms: Quiet. Except for his family he is uncaring of those around him. Whistles or chews spiced warra nuts (which he carries in a pouch on his belt) when distracted or lost in thought.
Likes/Dislikes: Likes: hard work, soldiering. Dislikes: Laziness, politics
Racial Traits:

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Physically strong for his age, he is getting up there in years and not as fast or agile as he used to be.
Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Focuses primarily on the here and now leaving him vulnerable to not seeing the "big picture."
Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: A functioning sociopath (except when it comes to matters of family whom he cares for very much).

Appearance:
Picture:




Height: 1.88 meters (6 feet, 2 inches)
Eye Color: Brown
Hair/Fur: gray/silver but shaved down to the scalp
Skin Color: Light
Clothing: Mandalorian beskar armor.



Personal History:

Immediate Family: Clan Taab
Spouse: Ruusaan
Children: Adenn (son), Prudii (daughter), Atin (son).

Biography:

---Personal History: Born in 50 BBY Beskaryc was well along his way down the traditional path to becoming Mandalorian warrior. However when he was only 6 years old his father was killed at the
Battle of Galidraan. Deprived of the traditional father/son training that was to begin at age eight, Beskaryc saw his training conducted by numerous other family members and other True Mandalorian sympathizers, though it was his own mother that took on most of the burden of his training. In the end it mattered little as he achieved adulthood as most other Mandalorians did during his 13th year when he passed the verd'goten. Married two years later in 35 BBY to Ruusaan. His son Adenn was born five years later in early 30 BBY. Daughter Prudii was born in 20 BBY. Adopted son Marcus(renamed Atin) in 5 BBY

---Military History: Following his passing of the verd'goten (Mandalorian right of passage) Taab found work as an enforcer for the Banking Clans. He went on to establish himself as an effective collector of outstanding debts for the group. His duties also saw him putting down Union riots by various the guilds, though when he could find it he took on work as a straight mercenary. He preferred "real soldiering" to bounty hunting, or clubbing civilians.

Remembering the service of Taab's father, Jango Fett asked him to join the Cuy'val Dar in 30 BBY. Taab jumped at the chance to train soldiers and found himself working with the Republic Commandos on Kamino. When the Clone Wars started just eight years later he left Kamino and joined a small group of Mandalorian mercenaries who called themselves the Crusaders. His eight year old son son joined him to begin his own training. At that time Taab used the money he had earned from his time as a training sergeant on Kamino to buy the Crusader, from which the small group of mercenaries operated.

An apolitical person, Taab didn't care which side of the conflict he was working for at any given time, so long as he was paid. Thus the Crusaders who numbered anywhere from 4 to 8 members depending on the time fought in many battles during the clone wars. Often employed as commandos themselves they worked for both sides of the conflict on a series of short term contracts. Thus it was at the end of the war the Crusaders were working with the Republic on Kashyyyk. When Master Yoda went missing following the "Jedi rebellion" they joined the search, though they were not surprised when the Jedi master gave them all the slip. Subsequently the group broke up, with Beskaryc and his son keeping the Crusader. This they modified for the purpose of hunting the Jedi who had survived Order 66.

For much of the next decade the two worked together, bringing many stray Jedi to justice. Though Adenn would eventually go off to start his own family, and find his own work. Taab continued to
hunt Jedi on his own, and while he was successful, he never earned the notoriety of Boba Fett. With Jedi becoming harder and harder to find, and his own distaste for bounty hunting work, Taab took on a job fighting for one of the factions of the Civil war on the Southern Continent of Ranklinge. There he found Marcus. Impressed by the boy's survival at such a young age, and remembering the death of his own father, Taab adopted him and renamed him Atin. He began to take on odd jobs, trying to prepare Atin for a life as a Mandalorian. Hired muscle for a bank robbery, VIP protection on various worlds, targeted assassinations, and even mercenary work with a group affiliated with the Rebel Alliance fighting against the Empire. When Atin's training was completed, Atin's burning desire to see justice done in the galaxy saw him gravitate towards joining the Rebel Alliance through contacts made on their previous job toegther. Meanwhile Taab was sought out by the Empire to do the same job Jango had sought him out to do so many years ago. Training commandos, this time Imperial Commandos, on Coruscant.

Miscellaneous:

Pets: None
Weapons: Normally carries a Mandalorian blaster carbine and two holstered Westar-35 blaster pistols. Armor is outfitted with an array of other weapons including a flame projector, wrist rockets, crushgaunts, plasma shield, poison darts, fibercord whip, various blades and blasters and of course the traditional jetpack with warhead launcher.
Starship Qualifications: Various, none currently assigned, though he is the owner/operator of a modified YT-1300 called the Crusader.
Droid: None

Note: Those familiar with the Intervention series of games will remember Taab from his appearance in both Intervention and Echoes in Eternity. First update will be uploaded shortly.

 

Episode: Pilot​

GM Update: Part I​

The dark skinned human woman walked through the hatch and into the room. "They bought it." The tall slender (mostly) human seated there nearly stood up upon hearing her entrance but refrained. They both had commander pips on their tan jackets, and though she did outrank him both in her current assignment and time of service to the Rebellion, there was no need to stand on such formality between the two. Instead he arched an eyebrow and stretched his arms. "They did?" He shook his head incredulously. "I can't believe it."

She sat down in her chair, on the opposite side of the desk from where her male counterpart sat, her self confidence brimming. "Well why not?..." He didn't have an answer to that but she went on with what she had told both him, and the Rebel brass, time after time. Two weeks had gone by since the disaster at Hoth. The euphoria of having escaped with what they had managed to get off that iceball had worn off and was now being replaced as reality set in for the Rebels, from the leadership on down through the rank and file. The command base was destroyed, casualties had been heavy and now it was up to the scattered Rebel fleet to carry on the war. The Imperial Navy was hounding those elements relentlessly, many squadrons had been wrecked completely in the last two weeks and that didn't count the losses at Hoth itself. Commander Skywalker was still missing, and though Wedge Antilles was filling in as the head for Rogue Squadron, the loss of the lightsaber wielding son of Skywalker was being deeply felt across the Alliance. Worse still, Princess Leia of Alderaan, well what used to be Alderaan, was also missing.

The last word regarding her had her attempting escape with famed smuggler Captain Han Solo on his equally famous fast freighter, the Millennium Falcon. However, like Skywalker who had been reported leaving in his X-Wing as the battle died down, that vessel never made the rendezvous point. No Imperial propaganda had been released regarding her capture, but many feared the worst. Despite their best efforts there, 17 out of 30 GR-75 cargo haulers had been lost and now the likelihood that the Falcon had also been among the vessel's destroyed increased by the day.

In the meantime, Rebel command was doing it's best to replace the losses in some squadrons by pilfering the pilots and equipment from other, even more fractured, units. It meant the demobilization of several squadrons and countless companies of troopers, but it was the only way to keep enough fighting men and women on the front. The commander sitting behind her desk with the broad smile on her face now and her own ideas of what to do with some of those personnel. She wanted a new squadron, one filled with pilots that didn't fit in anywhere else. Pilots with special skills that could wreak havoc in the very heart of the Empire, and by diverting resources there, give the Rebel fleet a chance to collect his breath and hopefully, eventually move onto the offensive.

"Believe it," the woman now said as she handed over a thick binder filled with flimsi pages. "And these are the pilots I got." The man took the binder and began rifling through it, a the look of disbelief becoming of of deep consternation as he did so.

"You can't be serious, this is a prisoner of war," he exclaimed with surprise and concern. Wallace shook her head with a knowing smile. That one wasn't even the worst of the lot, so she patiently awaited his next objection. "And this one's an Imperial!"

"Former Imperial," the woman replied flatly.

"Yes I can see that," he noted sarcastically, "Still, worked for the Imps." To which the woman dropped her smile and replied sternly, "So did I." Her point made, there was nervous laughter from the man as he turned the page. "And what about this one? She's got..." She interrupted him again. "You'll find objections to nearly every name on that list Commander, these are all men and women who won't fit in anywhere else now, some lost their squadrons," The man could relate, he'd lost his entire squadron during an attack run on a Star Destroyer several months prior to Hoth and was just now ready to go back on active duty. Still he wasn't convinced. "But a Hutt?!" he exclaimed loudly though she continued on as though she didn't hear him. "Others lost their families, their homes..." she stared at him coldly. "Which makes them perfect for the missions I want to assign them."

"So...they'rer some kind of Suicide Squadron, is that it?" She didn't answer, but her cool gaze bored through him. "You're nuts, you want to lead these... black sheep, on a suicide missions? You're certifiable." He was no longer shouting, but the concern in his voice was very real. "Me?" She chuckled. "I'm not going to lead them." Her laughter stopped abruptly, only to be replaced by a crooked smile, one that made the other commander uncomfortable. She continued to look at him with a piercing stare as the obvious question rested unformed on his lips before she continued on. "You are."

---

Two weeks earlier.

IC: Beskaryc Taab
ISD Avenger, Hoth System

The Mandalorian shifted uncomfortably as he loaded "his" men onto the landing craft. His men. What a joke. He had been hired by the Empire two years ago to train these men, not lead them into battle. He sighed to himself, he should have seen the mission creep coming, he had been around the block often enough to recognize the signs. First had come the "field testing" of his trainees away from the safe confines of the Arca company barracks. More often than not those had been scouting missions on various worlds away from the fighting, though contact with the Rebellion hadn't been unheard of on some of those assignments. Then had come missions closer and closer to the front lines. Taab should have tried to put a stop to it then, not because he feared the fighting, but because it wasn't what he had been hired to do. Now it's too late he thought to himself as he strapped himself into his seat in the troop bay of Sentinal class landing craft preparing to depart the Star Destroyer in the first wave. Oh well, he shrugged slightly, testing the limits of the crash webbing on his shoulders. He had tried objecting to his chain of command, all the way through to the star destroyer's commanding officer. He at least had seemed apologetic over the matter, but the order had stood, and no the time for objections had passed.

He'd been hired originally to train the next generation of Imperial commandos, something he had been known for prior to the clone wars when he had trained Republic commandos back on Kamino. This shouldn't have been much different, though the genetic stock of the troopers he was training was sorely lacking compared to that earlier endeavor. Still, it was a simple job, one that should have allowed himself to get his bearing professionally after his recent stint with Rebel aligned mercenaries. Sadly it hadn't been that easy. While the Empire had cared little about his previous jobs (aside from knowing how to train commandos) they had changed the emphasis of that training. No longer was it simply scouting, sniping, and the ability to wreak general havoc behind enemy lines that was the priority, it was the ability to capture (or at least contain) Jedi that the Empire really wanted him to pass along to the men under his command. That too was something Taab had done following the fall of the Republic, and the Empire remembered that service as well. Taab didn't know what all the fuss was about, those Jedi that had survived Order 66 had been run to ground, captured, killed or other wise no longer a threat. Yet for some reason the Empire wanted it's own cadre of troopers trained in the methodology of capturing (not killing) spoonbender. Taab didn't understand it, but he accepted the job. It paid well, and allowed him to pass on some of his knowledge accumulated from a lifetime of experience, even if it was just to a bunch of arutiise (foreigners). Of course that was before he had been roped into commanding some of those missions himself. Missions like this one he thought as the ship departed the hanger bay.

The mission itself was simple enough (strange how they so often started out that way): Land with the first wave and then move in on foot to secure Lord Vader's landing zone closer to the Rebel base. There was some kind of energy shield surrounding the base that wouldn't allow for a direct landing, and it seemed like the Empire wanted prisoners on this one, so Base Delta Zeroing the site was a non starter. Once the LZ was secure and the Dark Lord had arrived they were to hold the LZ and then act as a reserve force to him should there be any Jedi sightings. However much to Taab's chagrin, he and the rest of the squad weren't to engage any Jedi if found, merely "contain him" until Lord Vader arrived. That made little sense to the Mandalorian, why send them in if they really weren't going to be used? He shrugged again, his wasn't to reason why...

He leaned back now in his crash webbing, listening in on Imperial Army tactical freqs as his eyes fluttered behind his T-Visor. They were five minutes out, and that meant a five minute nap before they hit the ground. There was nothing else to do until they made planet fall, so he allowed himself to drift off, his last thoughts before unconsciouness on one of his sons, Atin, wondering where he was and what he was up to...

TAG: No one

---

IC: Atin Taab
Main Hanger, Echo Base, Hoth

Sitting on the closed s-foil of the Iron Cross, Atin stared into the holo-recorder/emitter on his buy'ce (helmet) with a crooked smile on his face as he spoke quietly. The hanger itself was filled with a cacophony of noise, especially the area where he was seated, where the 100th Bomber Squadron was busily, and futilely trying to retrofit their B-Wing bombers with de-icing equipment. It was slow work, made all the more so by the lack of working de-icers. Most of the functioning units had been pulled and assigned to the T-47s, especially after the disappearance of Commander Skywalker, though now that he had been found Atin hoped the bombers would get priority, though for now it didn't seem like that was gong to be the case. So, with nothing to do at the moment he had buttoned up his craft and was recording another message to his buir (father).

He had been doing it since he joined the Rebel Alliance though he hadn't sent any of them, not with where his father had been stationed, but he would, someday. "So yeah buir, I heard a rumor that pretty soon I won't be the only Mando here." He smiled sheepishly under his ratty beret. "She's been a Rebel a lot longer than I have though, thought I caught a glimpse of her before but wasn't sure." His cheeks flushed red, though hopefully that wouldn't show in the holo. "She's from clan Wr..." He stopped suddenly as as klaxons sounded, it was a general alarm. "Osik, gotta go." He exclaimed, a sense of excitement in his voice. "I'll finish this when I get back." He reached forward and deactivated the holo imager on his bucket's ranger finder and saved the message to the helmet's onboard memory where he saved all his letters. Then he slid the buy'ce over his head and went to find the boss.

Naturally he found her rather quickly, the blue skinned twi'lek who flew Thunder Lead (he could have sworn she wasn't that blue before they had come to Hoth) had been working on her own B-Wing when the alarms went off. She was listening in on her comm link before relaying information to the other pilots under her command who had congregated around her.

"An Imperial fleet has come out of hypserspace and is deployed to lay siege to us." The other pilots looked around at one another as some swore, this couldn't have come at a worse time for the 100th Bomber squadron, their craft were all torn down and inoperable. The extreme cold of Hoth had caused the gimbels in their rotating cockpits to seize up in awkward and unflyable positions, that's why they needed the de-ciing equipment. There would be no way to get them up and running in time for combat. "Base command managed to get the energy shield up as soon as the fleet was detected, so we're safe. For now." Atin looked up at the hangers ceiling, wondering if that shield could hold up to a bombardment. "We're going to be evacuating the base..." There were a few murmurs at that. "But first we need to buy some time." The murmurs stopped as there was dead silence, the pilots all knew that there was something afoot.

"With our squadron grounded, that means you all are getting assigned base defense duties in T-47s." The irony was not lost on Atin that those snowspeeders were only operable because the equipment that should have been installed on the B-Wings was instead being used to make the T-47s flyable. "I'm not leaving my baby." One of the other pilots called out gruffly, to which there were angry calls in agreement. Most pilots had close relationships with their craft, but B-Wing pilots seemed to be even more closely connected to the quirky vessel's they trusted their lives to. Fortunately Thunder Lead had an answer for them.

"Alliance command knows the situation and has no desire to leave the B-Wings behind. They're going to be loaded up on transports and flown out of here." Atin grimaced behind his faceplate in a manner reminiscent of his father. He didn't like that he wasn't going to be able to fly his own bird in what was going to be the largest battle in his young life. The other pilots wore similar expression. "I don't like it either, but those are our orders. Now let's get to it." With a war whoop she raised her modified helmet over her head as her pilots followed suit. With a deep sigh Atin gave one last look to his fighter as a droid of some kind (it looked to Atin like a chef droid but that couldn't be right) and Captain Wystari were given orders to take charge of loading the fighters onto a GR-75 transport. They were joined by a Hutt?! a few moments later. Atin shook his head seeing that another Bomber pilot, Flight Officer Lurell had seen the same thing. Atin shrugged to her, not quite sure what to think about that, though he had a sad feeling he would never see the Iron Cross again before running off with his squadron.

TAG: Outsourced, Chyntuck, Corellian_Outrider, Mitth_Fisto

OOC: All tagged here except Mitthy, your mission is to load the squadron's B-Wings onto several GR-75s. Figure the cargo ships already have some supplies onboard which will have to be offloaded prior to loading the B-Wings. I know it sounds boring, I'll make sure to add some exciting complications along the way. Mitthy, your mission will be in the next part of the update, but figured your character would be here first. To any and all, if you have questions, feel free to PM me or ask in the X-Wing Fanclub thread.

 

GM Update: Part II​

IC: Princess Leia Organa
Echo Base, Hoth

Surrounded by eager and nervous pilots, Princess, Senator and Rebel, Leia Organa stood in their midst as the eye of the storm. She was used to this by now, being the strong calming influence sending others off into battle. that wasn't to say she couldn't take care of herself, her fiery nature was well known, but right now these men and women needed a steadying hand, and she would provide that to them.

"The large transport ships will leave as soon as they're loaded. Only two fighter escorts per ship. The energy shield can only be opened for a split second, so you'll have to stay very close to the transports." Some of the pilots exchanged glances, before one spoke, lending a voice to their concerns.

"Two fighters against a Star Destroyer?" Leia nodded, relaying some information that would hopefully allay their fears as she noted another group of pilots, including a Mandalorian racing towards several parked snowspeeders.

"The ion cannon will fire several blasts which should destroy any ships in your flight path." Atin over heard and corrected her in his mind. Disable, not destroy he thought quickly before focusing on his own task. "When you clear the energy shield you will proceed to the rendezvous point." the pilots all knew they would set of micro jumps first before heading to the rally point, that many ships all headed to the same location along slightly different trajectories. Surely the Imperials could triangulate their destination with that much data. they would have to co-ordinate that with the individual vessel they were escorting as well. "Good luck," Leia said dismissing the officers who would escort the future of the Alliance past the blockade who scattered to find their wingmen. She was replaced by another, stern sounding officer who ran through a list of names.

"Flight Officer Tehanis, you're with Angel (twi'lek female) escorting the Gambler's Addiction (GR-75)..." he listed several more names before coming to.

"Malek, you're lead to Mustang (human male) escorting the Omarian Star (GR-75)." The officer made eye contact with both pilots before continuing on. "Lieutenant Balzroth," the officer had no problem finding the Devaronian in the crowd. "You're riding shotgun on the Hercules (Corellian Action VI) with Paladin." The officer listed off several more names before coming to the final names on his list. "Pallas, you've got Blue (Duros male) and you'll be protecting the No Deal (Mobquet medium transport)." He looked at all the officer's grimly. "Any questions? If not, man your planes, and may the force be with you."

TAG: Adalia-Durron, Anedon, Mistress_Renata, Sarge

OOC: Leia dialogue taken from The Empire Strikes Back novelization by Donald Glut. I assigned some random NPCs here to act as y'alls wingmen for Hoth. Feel free to embellish them in any way you see fit (how long your character has known/flown with them and so forth). From previous games, some of you know how hard I am on NPCs, so I wouldn't advise putting too much effort into it. For much of the upcoming battle here though you will be controlling both your own character and your wingmate. I'll get y'all into space and give you some targets in my next post. Yes, I took the callsigns from the Wing Commander game.

---

IC: Atin Taab
cockpit of a T-47 snowspeeder, Main hanger, Echo base, Hoth.

Atin jumped atop the T-47 that had been assigned to him, lamenting the fact that he didn't have a "tail gunner." None of the bomber pilots assigned to the snowspeeders did, though their mission wasn't to topple the towering AT-ATs but rather to provide close air support (CAS) work for the troopers manning the trenches. That meant strafing runs against enemy infantry. The big boys in Rogue Squadron were tasked with the anti-armor role, though how a tow cable was going to accomplish that Atin didn't know.

Settling down into the cockpit, the Mandalorian began the startup sequence, overhearing the orders to a nearby group of Y-Wing pilots. Shab how he wished he was with them.

"The Imps have set up a landing zone outside the shield, looks like they will organize there before sending in a surface attack." The howl of snowspeeder engines caused the officer to pause for a moment before continuing on. "Our job is to strike that LZ and hopefully take out anything big enough to threaten the base." He looked out at the pilots. "That means loaded landing barges or shuttles, ground command vehicles or even massed troops, I want it taken out." He gave a grim smile. "The Alliance needs our heros, but dead heros do us no good. So it's one pass and haul ass." The pilots knew that meant they were to perform just a single attack run before going for space to escape. "I'm sure the Imperial LZ will be covered by eyeballs (TIE Fighters) so we've got some zoomies giving us cover." The man paused for a moment as if deep in though before continuing. "After you all make your escape, make a few microjumps and then head for the RV point. Hopefully the fleet will be too caught in grabbing the slow movers to give us too much trouble."

Atin thought all of that over. Their strike was on troops and equipment outside the shield, that mean they would need good co-ordination with shield and ion control as well as split second timing to actually leave the shield's perimeter during one of those brief moments it was lowered for the escaping transports. He hoped the wishbone pilots were up to the task. "Oh, and by the way. No gunners here. We're trying to get every flyable machine off the ground, so no pilot is being wasted playing GIB (Guy/gal in back)." He then proceeded to hand out assignments, strike pilots first, the ones flying Y-Wings.

"Mcear, you're with Maniac," there were several laughs as the male human pilot called Maniac thumped Ianna on her shoulders. "Sergeant Sunwalker," the officer cried out, a bit of anger in his voice at speaking her name. "You've got Hunter (Rodian male) watching your back." The officer went through several more names being sent off on the interdiction mission before coming to the pilots flying cover for them.

"FO Yaren, you'll be flying with Killjoy (Togrutan female)." The pair of A-Wing pilots were matched up which surprised no one. "Dimmall, you and Grinder (human female) will be leading the way along with Ksiur and Spitfire (human female) in your X-Wings. Cover the attack craft from fighters during their attack, and cover their escape too once they reach space..."

Atin closed his canopy and gave a thumbs up to his own wingman, Ripper (human male) noticing Flight Officer Lurell doing the same with her wingman, Waxer (Sullustan male) from the cockpit of her snowspeeder. Over his comm system he heard one last order from Princess Organa before his craft lifted from the ground.

"Attention speeder pilots, on the withdrawal signal, assemble on the South slope. Your fighters are being prepared for takeoff." Well shab, that didn't help Atin out one bit. His fighter was being loaded onto a transport. He and the other B-Wing pilots would have to leave with one of them, probably the Valkyria if Captain Wystari waited around that long. "Code One Five will be transmitted when the evacuation is complete."

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels, galactic-vagabond422, BookExogorth, The Admiral, Mostlymad, Mitth_Fisto

OOC: Same deal as above, feel free to embellish these wingmen as you see fit but don't get too attached to them. Likewise you'll be controlling their actions for the course of this battle. Also just as above, I'll let y'all use your first post to get your bearings and or provide any backstory y'all needed in your first post and then I'll be getting you targets in my next update. To any and all, if you have questions, feel free to PM me or ask in the X-Wing Fanclub thread.

 

"<Let's go, slime balls!>" The Hutt growled as he slithered forward towards the waiting fighters. Unfortunately, the ground was much too uneven for his treads, and he'd complained about it just as much as the other staff complained about his residue trails. "<I'm not dying for a bunch of shoddy starfighters, or any of you lot.>" He didn't speak basic, it was seen as a sign of weakness in Hutt business even if he understood it perfectly, but the Alliance wasn't exactly keen on learning Huttese either. So, as he spoke, the Mouse Droid strapped onto his torso spoke for him in the somewhat hyperactive tone only a mouse droid with a voice could make. It wasn't exactly intimidating, he looked like a humanoid mother with a baby strapped to her torso, but it got the point across. It would have to work, at least until he... acquired a proper protocol droid. He'd tried to bargain for a gold one he'd seen wandering around the base, but someone higher up was sentimental and refused it.

No matter. He hadn't been used to material comforts in quite some time, and he suspected it would be longer still as long as the Rebels were underdogs.

"<Let's see here...>" He retrieved the manifest for the transports off of the nearby terminal, loading it into his own datapad. "<Blade Wings take precedence over... industrial mixing equipment? What idiot requisitioned this?>"

@Chyntuck @Corellian_Outrider, @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Lt. Kayn "Mean Streak" Balzroth
Echo Base



"Frackin' A!" The Devaronian's voice dripped with disgust. "Close escort duty on the Herkypig? They're wasting our talents by making us babysitters for the fat boys, Paladin. Don't they know who I am?"

Paladin's reply was a distracted monotone; he was too accustomed to Kayn's rants to pay close attention. "You're the infamous Kayn Balzroth, Speed Demon of Devaron, top contender for the Trans-Galactic 500 racing series, etc etc. Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice." The Corellian flipped a shiny pair of dice in the air, caught them, and read the numbers on top. "Looks like our private comm frequency will be 11.38 today. Let's mount up."

They parted ways to find their own X-wings. Kayn activated the commlink implanted in his horns and subvocalized a message to the R2 unit in his X-wing, the Starfiend III. "Droid, fire up the power, we're scrambling. What's our weapons load out?" The droid's binary response played through Kayn's neural enhancements and directly into his brain with near electronic speed. "Full load of chaff and flares!" Kayn was surprised enough to exclaim that out loud. Alliance supplies being what they were, most fighters usually launched with less than half capacity countermeasures. Somebody with more than half a brain must have decided it made more sense to load the fighters full than leave useful stuff to get captured by the Empire. "What about torpedoes?" Kayn growled at the answer to that and grabbed an unfortunate munitions tech who happened to be in arm's reach. "My droid just told me there are only two torpedoes in my X-wing! I need-"

The munitions tech interrupted, "Sorry sir, no time for that, we're trying to get the Y-wings topped off, they need 'em worse than you do." The tech rushed off before Kayn could get another word in. Frack, he thought, no time to do anything about it now.

Jogging up to his ship, he took a few seconds for a quick walk-around inspection. All the access panels were closed, nothing was burning, and the fluid leaks were no worse than usual. Back in his racing days, this ship's condition would have been completely unflightworthy, but rebel maintenance standards were primitive at best. He kissed his thumb and pressed it to the face on the X-wing's nose art.



Settling into the cockpit, he glanced at the power systems readout. The reactor was just about finished with its rapid activation cycle; it looked like the R2 unit had done what he asked and gotten the ship fired up when he asked it. Maybe this droid would be more useful than most of the junk that took up space in the astromech socket.

Selecting 11.38 on the comm panel, Kayn called up Paladin. "Paladin, Mean Streak, comm check." The Corellian was already up on freq and answered, "Loud and clear, Mean Streak. What's your loadout?"

"Full countermeasures, two torpedoes. You?"

"Ha! I got three torpedoes. See, it really does pay off to be nice to people, you should try it."

"I'm nice, I just can't be bothered to be nice to idiots. You ready to launch?"

"Have blaster, will travel."

"Copy that, I'll check in with traffic control."

Resetting the comm panel to Echo Base control freq, Kayn called in, "Echo traffic, X-wings Mean Streak and Paladin are ready to launch. Has anybody in this clusterfrack assigned us flight call signs? We're supposed to be escorting the Herkypig, so let's get this show in the air."

 

IC: Jocelyn “Joy” Sunwalker
Main Hangar, Echo Base, Hoth

Jocelyn was used to the negativity towards her. After all she was the Imp in their midst, the gundark in their flock of nerfs. It was tiresome, but probably unavoidable. She knew of other Imperials among the Rebels and they seemed to have been accepted. Probably it was the fact that she was not so outwardly idealistic and the fact that she did not join them out of a desire to restore the corrupt Republic they so idolized. She had more selfish reasons, she wanted to avenge the stained family name and there was no way to do that within the Empire. After all it did not suffer people who were under suspicion. Unlike the Alliance, for which she was begrudgingly grateful, after all if she had been a Rebel pilot and tried to pull a stunt like that and try to join the Imperial Navy she would have been shot on sight, or arrested, tortured and executed. Joy took what she got, hopefully the sentiment towards her would change… someday.

So, the Empire had finally found them, it took them long enough, but that was inevitable. She had seen it under Thrawn and how they flushed out the Rebel cell on Atollon and other systems. The Empire was, if nothing else, relentless and meticulous. The Alliance should learn some lessons from their enemy if they were to defeat it. Joy did not have to look around to see some scared faces of the fresh recruits and the grim determination of the veterans. At least they were going to engage the enemy pretty soon, that is what mattered at the moment. The cacophony surrounding her added to the feeling that she was having… elation, was it? Something she never felt as an Imperial Lieutenant.

She saluted the officer and eyed her wingmate, Bugboy, as the others called him in jest. A name she dared not call him out loud as everyone suddenly became so sensitive, calling her a speciesist. The officer probably assigned him to her knowing very well how the Imperials disliked non-humans and he chose the farthest from a human pilot in their squadron. A literal bipedal fly…

Jocelyn was good at covering her true emotions, a trait she learned in the Imperial Navy as showing them was a sure way to invite trouble.

She turned on her heel to face the rest of the squadron, she was their Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO).

“Alright, you heard the man, man your craft.” her Coruscanti accent sounded commanding enough.

TAG: @Bardan_Jusik, galactic-vagabond422, BookExogorth, Mostlymad, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Ianna Mcear
Temporary Quarters, Echo base, Hoth.

"Ok, ok," she said to herself looking over her go bag. "Bolo-ball," she put her gloved hand on the sphere resting in her pack, "Check, Jersey." She looked to the simmering green and white shirt that was still too big for her, "Check, Daddy's rifle," she looked again putting her now shivering hand on the long blaster her father gave her the tearful night she left her home. A little bit of sadness entered her chest recalling that moment. She closed her eyes shaking her head. Soon a smile returned to her face. "What else Pat?" she asked her astromech. The little droid tweeted back to her. Ianna didn't know what she was actually saying but, she extended one of her arms pointing at the still folded uniform resting on top of Ianna's foot locker. "Oh, yeah, I might need that."

Pat whistled again and Ianna opened the locker finding the rest of her clothes, including under garments still inside.

"Oh, good catch." It was a very good catch, she didn't want to go requisitioning 'foundation' garments, as her mother called them…Again. It was awkward enough the first time, she got so frustrated until she just blurted out what she needed in terms that would make her mother clutch her necklace.

It took a few tries to finally zip up her spacer's bag but, she got there and shouldered the pack, on her back it was noticeably taller than she was. However it didn't seem to hinder her and she rushed out to her assigned squadron.

Out in the main hanger she found the collection of Y-Wings, and pilots standing around them. That must be where she should meet her group. She made her way dipping and dodging around various personnel as everyone was making preparations for evacuation.

The Empire had found them, they couldn't stay here any longer. It pained her to leave, she was just getting used to the cold. Maybe their next base would be somewhere warm, like Thyferra or Chandrila. Though she knew the chances of them getting setup on such planets were remote but, the girl could hope. She set down her pack as the Officer…Captain, or was it Lieutenant something or other, she'd been in so many different squads she lost track of who her Commander was.

Ianna listened carefully to the orders, they were to damage the enemy landing zone... that was the place all the bad guys were right. Then they were to make some micro-jumps and go to the RV…what did that mean again? She'd have to save her questions as the commander continued. They were to make one pass then 'haul ass'. Ianna looked away blushing. She still wasn't used to the coarse language some of the older fighters in the Rebellion used. However she'd probably have to one day but, today wasn't that day.

She also wondered, how many torpedoes or weapons she was allowed to use in the attack. The young girl can still recall the scolding she received after using four torps to trash single troop transport. The Rebellion was running on the ragged edge, they needed to preserve as much fuel and ammo they could.

When the wing assignments were announced she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder. Maniac, a human man stood behind her beaming with a smile, a smile she shared.

"Watch my back ok big guy." She said to him.

"Always Kid." he said ruffling her hair. The older man looked down at her, "And you remember the com frequencies right?"

"Yeah, of course." Ianna replied shrugging her shoulders.

"Good, don’t want a repeat of last time, you speaking on an open channel."

She cheeks turn red, well redder remembering that embarrassing moment. She wasn’t talking about anything too embarrassing, just idle chatter between two pilots. Until her commander roared over the private channel at her. She knew she’d messed up...again.

"Yeah, got it."

"Alright, you heard the man," Sunwalker called out drawing Ianna’s attention, "man your craft."

'Or woman your craft,' the teen thought to herself. As she walked by the other woman Ianna gave her two thumbs up and a wide excited grin.

"Good luck Miss. Sunwalker." She said making her way to her Y-Wing.

After stowing her gear, she climbed up the integrated ladder and dropped into her seat, her helmet already resting to the side.

Picking up the thing she looked lovingly at the white ‘X’ slightly squished on the right side, with four white stars in a cross pattern in the crux on the left side. It was her family’s crest sort of, it had been linked to her family for generations. She was told once what it meant but, has since forgotten it. She gave it a kiss while rubbing the green and white Patriot’s logo on the other side.

Closing the hatch Pat whistled from behind her, the translation playing across the small screen in her instruments.

"Oooh, good lots of torpedos." she said in reply, "Probably don’t want to use too many of them though." Again the green and white R2 unit tweeted excitedly. "See I’m learning." She took the time to coil her baird of dark blonde hair at the back of her head and secure it with an elastic before putting her helmet on.

Quieting for a long moment checked her instruments, testing the stick, pressing in the pedals, which she can reach thank you very much.

"Kid," Maniac’s voice called over the comms causing her to jump a little. "Going to tell Echo Base you’re ready to go?"

"Oh...oh yeah." she changed over to the frequency for Echo base control, it was written on a piece of flimsi tapped next to her comm.

"Uh...Echo control this is 'Kid' um...Pilot Officer Mcear, flying one of the Y-wings, how are you doing?" Pat tweeted again, "Oh yeah, sorry. Ah um… I’m ready to take off." And she was, her hands were wrapped around the flight stick, feet resting on the pedals, head swaying to the beat of a popular song she heard back home, just waiting to be told to go.

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels, TheAdmiral, BookExogorth, Bardan_Jusik, Mostlymad, Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Meleema Ksiur
Hanger in Echo Base
This was not good. Hoth wasn't Mel's idea of a good base, and she had hated it, but she didn't know how the Rebels would be surviving without it, and it had seemed like a good safe haven that they needed.
She ran down an icy hall, carrying the box full of her IDs, medical record, holos, bells, and her chimes, among other things. The box wasn't very big, just wide enough to hold the chimes. She knew that the non-physical things were stored elsewhere, but it gave her a bit more assurance that she held her own fate.

She quickened her pace, arriving to the correct division of the main hanger as one of the pilots, maybe Atin, was prepping his snowspeeder. She watched as more people arrived, after which they got their orders.
"The Imps have set up a landing zone outside the shield, looks like they will organize there before sending in a surface attack." The howl of snowspeeder engines caused the officer to pause for a moment before continuing on. "Our job is to strike that LZ and hopefully take out anything big enough to threaten the base. That means loaded landing barges or shuttles, ground command vehicles or even massed troops, I want it taken out." He gave a grim smile. "The Alliance needs our heros, but dead heros do us no good. So it's one pass and haul ass. I'm sure the Imperial LZ will be covered by eyeballs (TIE Fighters) so we've got some zoomies giving us cover." The man paused for a moment as if deep in though before continuing. "After you all make your escape, make a few microjumps

Adjusting the hearing aid she made for her right ear, she found that it had powered down again. Blast! It hadn't slid down for a couple months. At least they had gone over some battle plans for if the empire showed up, so she knew their outline. If this couldn't be fixed, though... She didn't know what she'd do. The rebels didn't exactly possess high-end medical equipment, and they weren't stopping on a planet with hearing aids soon, in all likelihood. She fiddled with it for some time, and put it back in her ear after she thought she had a good enough fix.

"FO Yaren, you'll be flying with Killjoy. Dimmall, you and Grinde will be leading the way along with Ksiur and Spitfire in your X-Wings. Cover the attack craft from fighters during their attack, and cover their escape too once they reach space..."

Spitfire, if she remembered right, had the right nickname. She seemed to be in a perpetual state of anger. She could be nice to you, but you could see something in her eyes. She was almost cat-like.

Next, Sergeant Sunwalker spoke up. “Alright, you heard the man, man your craft.”
She ran over to her x-wing, putting her box in a storage compartment, and prepped the craft.

Tag: Bardan_Jusik Rebecca_Daniels galactic-vagabond422 The Admiral Mostlymad Mitth_Fisto

 

OOC: I hope I'm doing this right...

IC: Max Pallas
Hangar Cresh, Echo Base, Hoth

Maxime Pallas looked unhappily at the broad red streak running along the side of the T-65 starfighter that had been assigned to her. Red. Why did it have to be red? Red was the color of blood and pain, a very unlucky color. Of course, it could be worse. It could be black. Black was the color of Death. A black ship would attract His attention.

She’d done everything else she could to protect herself before taking off. There was a small drop of her blood smeared under one wing, and a bit of saliva next to it. It would’ve been luckier to spit on the ship, but the crew chief who had caught her doing it on Yavin had pitched a fit. He seemed to think it reflected her opinion of the ship, or of his crew’s work, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. So licking her finger and lightly touching the hull had to suffice.

The rest of the pre-flight inspection had turned up no problems. She wished she’d been able to work on the ship herself, but now she was with the “professional” Rebels. This wasn’t even her usual ship, just the one that was available that day.

“Ready to rumble, Spooky? Sacrificed the tooka yet?” She smiled at Mazoris Bluesh, her Duros wingman.

“Tookas and common cats are good luck,” she informed him. “Major bad baagi, sacrificing them. Wish I had one to tuck in the cockpit with me!”

He chuckled, his thin-lipped mouth turning up. “Today’s the day,” he said. “Double ace, here I come!”

Max shook her head. “Bad luck to boast, Blue.” She grinned at Lieutenant Keswahl Tivex who came up to them, and belatedly remembered to salute. Tivex, a young Batangan woman, smacked her hand down gently with a furry paw.

“Remember who you’re dealing with! We’re Bandits! Which ship have you got?” asked Tivex.

“No Deal,” said Max. “The Mobquet transport.”

Bluesh rolled his eyes. “We can just walk if we want to go slow,” he grumbled. “We may have to get out and help push.”

“At least they’ve got armor,” Max said.

Tivex nodded. “We’re using our usual callsigns, Bandits all. Spooky, you’re Six. Blue, you’re Five. Now, what’s your load out?”

“Standard, plus two torpedoes,” said Max.

“Me, too,” said Bluesh.

Tivex nodded again. “Yeah, we’re all short. Try not to use ‘em, but make it count if you do.”

“Where are the rest of the Bandits?” asked Max.

Ikrim Boraska’s Bandits had been cheerfully causing havoc along the Manda Merchant Run for nearly ten years, long before Max had joined the team. There had been 9 pilots, flying Z-95s, a few old ARC fighters and 2 precious X-wings, all of which they’d maintained themselves and which were scattered and hidden away in various hangars and back workshops.

The rest of Baraska’s Bandits were guerillas, ground forces, assembling for missions and going back to their day jobs. Fog and shadows. Max had been on a few of those missions, but she’d loved the flying and was pretty good at it. Harassing Imperial shipping and stealing their supplies had been a great challenge. After the destruction of the Death Star, they’d been called upon to help with the evacuation from Yavin. The Starfighter Corps had been decimated, and everyone who could serve was needed.

The main Alliance was a lot more formal and fancy than what Max was used to. They had uniforms, for crying out loud! And ranks! You had to salute officers. And they’d made her an officer—well, a baby officer—and some of her buddies were expected to salute her. Flight logs, reports, all sorts of things she was trying to learn how to do… the Bandits never kept records like this. Too much chance of them being found and used by the Empire. Alliance High Command had different standards.

Tivex flattened her ears against her head, and looked away for a moment, with her tail between her legs. “They’ve gone into the trenches,” she said. “They’re going to try to hold off the Imperial Ground troops as long as they can.”

The three were silent for a moment. “Well,” said Bluesh, “when we see them again they can congratulate me on becoming a double ace. Today’s the day, ladies, I can feel it! I am totally going to win the pool.”

Tivex huffed in amusement. “I will be winning the pool,” she said, “but I will grant you the honor of coming in second.” They both looked at Max, who shook her head.

“It’s bad—“ she began.

“We know,” said Bluesh. “Bad luck.”

Tivex gave each of them a hug. “Time to mount up,” she said. “See you at the rendezvous. Fair skies and a tailwind.” Max smiled at the traditional farewell of her homeworld. She thumped Bluesh on the arm, and clambered up the ladder into the cockpit.

“Locked in, Digger?” she asked. Her little droid trilled an acknowledgement. She looked over the ship’s systems. Everything was coming on line. All systems in the green, looking good. She strapped herself in, and did her final check.

The braided circlet of corley was in her pocket, the fire crystal was around her neck. She checked the inside of her helmet. It was new, they had just been issued, white with the galactic Starbird in blue. A lucky color. She hadn’t had time to do much to personalize it. But she had taken the time to line it with perrefoil, before replacing the padding. The foil was intact, no holes or scratches. If any of the Emperor’s Dark Jedi minions were out there, her thoughts would be safe from intrusion.

The only other thing she’d had time for was a small logo at the back, near the bottom… a stylized corvie. Lightly, she ran her finger over it. Mom, I don’t know if you’ve got any kind of influence Over There, but if you do, today’s the day to use it. Otherwise, I’ll be seeing you a lot sooner than I’d planned.

Helmet in place, cockpit sealed –she cranked up the interior heat controls—she keyed her comm channel to 15.5. “Comm check.”

“Gotcha loud and clear, Spooky. Just talked to traffic, we’re clear to go.” Max peered through the transparisteel canopy. The signals officer was moving into place. Two ships were taking off ahead of her. She gave a thumbs up to her crew chief, who acknowledged with a wave.

“I'm right behind you, Blue.” Engage repulsors, wait for the signal… and then forward after her wingman into the grey winds of Hoth.

 

IC: Foodie
Main hangar, Echo Base, Hoth

This poor little mousebot will be smothered in slime if he isn’t let go soon, Foodie thought as he watched R0-Dn’s tiny wheels spin helplessly in mid-air. I need to procure a copy of The Universal Guide to Droid Welfare for Sergeant Koruga – or maybe just a flask of Jill Ett’s Gastropod Glop Desiccant. The last thing we need is in this situation is a short-circuit. I doubt that Alliance medics are trained to deal with third-degree burns on Hutts.

Echo Base’s main hangar was in an uproar. Pilots were receiving their orders, slipping on their helmets and running to their ships left, right and centre while technicians ensured that the craft were flight-worthy (at this Foodie let out the electronic equivalent of a snort), equipped with sufficient weaponry and adequately refuelled for the upcoming battle. Meanwhile, Sergeant Koruga was going through the list of equipment that needed to be loaded on the transports and complaining loudly about the priorities that had been set by Alliance command. Foodie didn’t quite understand why the Hutt was so intent on keeping the industrial mixing equipment. After all, he had three different automated whisks folded in his right forearm that could perform the same task in a pinch.

The Corellian man that had been assigned to help with loading the malfunctioning B-wings on the GR-75 hadn’t intervened yet, and Koruga’s foul-mouthed shouting, which was interspersed with a string of curses that would make an experienced spacer blush, was growing louder and louder. The mousebot was doing an excellent job at keeping up, Foodie had to give him that. Hopefully Captain Wystari understood Huttese as well so that they could do away with the translation. After all, there was no need for the entire ground staff of Echo Base to learn about the most distasteful forms of abuse a Hutt could wish upon friends and enemies alike.

Foodie tried to spy on the manifest that was displayed on Koruga’s datapad, but to no avail – the Hutt was gesticulating far too wildly. He stepped discreetly towards the computer terminal and plugged in to download the data to his private memory banks. He scanned through the list. Apparently the transport was chock-full of miscellaneous equipment that would have to be unloaded in order to make space for the B-wings. His photoreceptors flashed excitedly. This was his chance to prove his usefulness to the Rebel Alliance. Over the weeks he had spent drifting in the hangar bay, he’d struck a friendship of sorts with a bank of binary loadlifters that badly needed an oil bath. Foodie had been happy to scrounge from the kitchens the best oil the Alliance could provide – which wasn't saying much, but it was better than nothing. Now was the time to call in the favour they owed him.

Tags: Outsourced Corellian_Outrider Mitth_Fisto