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

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

Joy was about to bark at the Kid to address her properly, she was not ‘Miss Sunwalker’, but ‘Sergeant Sunwalker’, but decided not to pursue the matter right now. It was pointless, just before engaging the enemy to get into petty arguments. Besides the girl was still a kid, like her callsign, if she survived this engagement Jocelyn would have to talk with her. She needed proper guidance, most of her squadron mates did too. The Rebels had exceptionally good pilots, but a lot of them acted as individuals and this sort of anarchy made them an easy target for the overwhelming number of fighters the Empire could throw at them. Joy suspected that the Alliance made her a Sergeant for the purpose of keeping order and to keep the pilots in line. They did not trust her enough to give her command, but valued her enough to at least make her a NCO. Besides everything in her reeked of Imperial, her posture, demeanour, her accent and the way she acted. This made the others either to respect or resent her.

‘Good’ she thought as she moved towards her sturdy old Y-wing. The technicians were making final preparations. One of the nodded to her and told her that they are finishing their work. Joy said nothing and saw her black astromech being prepared to be put in its socket. She had stolen it when she ran away from the Empire and had a slicer reprogram it and ever since it was her companion, something close to a friend… Speaking of a friend she kind of missed her Tooka Carols, when the evacuation was announced she made sure to give it to that Corellian smuggler Wystari to take her on his freighter the Valkyria for safekeeping until she could take her. Or to become the Tooka’s new home in case Joy was killed in action.

Joy looked at her squadron mates as she climbed the ladder to the cockpit. She did not resent them, though she kept a distance. She could not afford to make friends with or get too close to her subordinates. That was a lesson she had learned from the Imperial Academy as people will surely die and such sentiments just clouded your judgement when the shooting starts. Though Joy will always try to help anyone who needed it, if it did not jeopardize the mission.

She fixed her hair so that it would fit relatively comfortably under the helmet, then sat inside. She shifted so that she could adjust the straps and the cockpit started to close. She switched on each system one by one and did the usual pre-flight checks. Shadow, her R2 unit, beeped in affirmation that it was in the socket. The lack of a gunner made her a bit nervous as there would be TIEs around them distracting her, but you can’t always have what you want.

Jocelyn checked with Hunter as she adjusted her commsystems to the squadron frequency and reset it to the Traffic control frequency after the comm. check.

“Echo Traffic, this is Joy…” she always cringed when she had to use her callsign “Requesting permission for take-off.”

TAG: Bardan_Jusik, galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Ethan "Veteran" Malek
Echo Base Hangar- Hoth

"I´m getting to old for this," Ethan Malek muttered as he climbed up the short leader to the cockpit of his X-Wing. Pain pulsed through the scars in his right leg and reminded him of the day he had gotten the wound. It had been five years ago during a contract on Nar Shaddar where a speeder had rammed him, crushing his most of his right leg. The bacta had done its best to heal the broken bones but Ethan could still feel the wound now and then.

Pulling himself into the cockpit he allowed himself a sigh of relieve as the pain left him. He concentrated on the dashboard in front of him checking the machine. It was a standard X-Wing of the T-65 line, the most common ship in the Rebel fleet. Ethan had piloted X-Wings before and he knew how to handle them.

Waiting for his Astromech to be inserted in his position behind the cockpit, Ethan´s thoughts went back to the briefing. Two fighters against a Star Destroyer? In every other army he had severed before an action like this would have been seen as pure suicide but the rebel alliance was different. Here people believed in doing the impossible and sometimes they even succeeded with it.

When the droid arrived Ethan quickly checked its connection to his consoles. The droids identification number briefly caught his attentions. R7-T9. For many years now Ethan hadn´t named one of his droids anymore, he had lost too many of them in battle and that was harder when they had a name.

He threw a look at the X-Wing next to him and saw Kell "Mustang" next to him. The young human gave him a smile. Again Ethan realized how young his wing mate was. He can barely be older than 20. Ethan knew that he had been even younger when he had joined the ORSF but these days felt distant to him. Like the memories so someone else.

Opening the com channel he addressed Kell: "Are you ready for this?" "Of course I am," the young man replied and Ethan could hear his smile. "Be careful, there is an entire fleet up there. No heroics, if you need help tell me." I´m sounding like an overprotective parent. Ethan realized but he hoped that the young man would listen to his advice. He had already lost too many comrades in his life.

Adjusting his helmet he sealed the cockpit and prepared himself. Taking a deep breath and sending a prayer to whatever gods where listing to him he calmed himself down.

Then he started the machines and his X-Wing rose from the Hangar floor. "Let´s get us out of here," he muttered to R7 as the star fighter moved towards the hangar doors and into the cold air of Hoth.

TAG: Anyone

 

IC: Zara Yaren
Echo Base, Hoth

Zara could not get off this karking planet soon enough. At first Hoth was just cold, like really kriffing cold, but as time wore on it became can't-remember-what-warmth-is, freeze-your-lekku-off cold. Hers had been shoved down the back of her coat or wrapped in scarves after a guard shift out in the biting wind and snow had left her with a somewhat literal brain freeze. Worse, Zara was fairly certain the cold had damaged her rifle, or at least drained something, because the electronic sight wouldn't power up after that incident and she'd had to rely on just her sidearm since then.

For now, her preferred weapon was disassembled, packed away in a case that flew economy in the cargo hold of her A-wing, along with other, much less important items. Personal items were a waste of space unless they also had function; hers were clothing-- though she was wearing a lot of what she owned under her flight suit-- a couple of scrounged sabacc and pazaak decks, missing more than a few cards each after how many hands they'd passed through before reaching hers, and a holoplayer with some romantic holo-novels and Rylothean music-- she didn't have to be from that planet to appreciate music that crept through her head-tails in a way non-Twi'leki music never did. All of that went in a small bag, none of it stuff she'd miss if it had to get dumped or left behind in an emergency, just more convenient to not have to re-requisition or trade for wherever her next assignment would place her.

Small duffle over one shoulder, rifle case in her other hand, Zara looked over her now-empty bunk one last time to see if she'd left anything behind, then started out for the hangar. Time to put this iceball in her rear exhaust.

A few pilots and crew acknowledged her while they rushed about their duties down the cramped passages connected to the icy hangar, but no one stopped for her; Zara nodded back at a few, unconcerned as she kept to the side so those moving faster could get by. They were busy and she really didn't care to stop and talk, though she did overhear some scattered talk of the incoming Imperials that made her pick up her pace. It was no surprise the Imps were here; they always caught up eventually and the Rebellion never got away clean.

As she entered the hangar, Zara took in the assembling pilots, their varied faces and expressions. How many of these people would be left alive at the end of the day? A third of the slow Y-wings? Half the X-wings and A-wings? How many dead, how many injured, how many captured?

That bleak, numbing feeling carried her over to her A-wing, where she had to force the small cargo hold open. As Zara slid her rifle case inside, she used the force of trying to push her duffle bag into the opening to shake the feeling off. It's not like you even like these people, she reminded herself. The Empire gets everyone in the end.

She kicked at the small hold door to shut it, the hinges stiff and frozen and unwilling to move, then kicked at it again until she heard the latch pop and seal. Time to go.

The pilots assembled to get their assignments. After the Princess left, Zara listened from the back, not able to see over the taller pilots in front of her. Escort, bombing, cover. She couldn't help but smile at "zoomies"; that would be the A-wings for sure, they didn't have the firepower to do much on a bombing run. She waited until she heard her name and wingmate before heading off; Chira Ve, of course it was.

The two had flown together before, and while they were a good flight pair Zara couldn't stand the Togruta known as "Killjoy" and she knew the feeling was mutual. Maybe she'd get lucky and the other A-wing pilot would get assigned to the other side of the galaxy after this. Without looking for her, Zara returned to her ship to give it a final once-over; all the A-wings were parked together so she'd see her wingmate soon enough.

Without an astromech to do a preflight check, Zara, like all A-wing pilots, had to do so herself. It gave her a reason to avoid talking to squadmates before mission launches, and she didn't mind the extra work. It would be handy during battle to have the extra help, however, and Zara had been wondering for some time how hard it would be to retrofit an astromech slot to improve targeting and repairs. Something to think about at least.

While she ducked under the engines to check for gathered ice, Zara reached into her flight suit for her personal flask, tucked against her body to keep it from freezing. Three days ago she'd traded a scarf and the knowledge of how to make a blaster power pack overheat enough to warm but not explode for a refill of Corellian brandy. She'd thought to save it, since it was the good stuff, but what was the point when they might all die in the next hour. Just a taste, enough to see if it was as good as promised, not enough to--

"Gonna fly drunk again?" An unwanted voice interrupted. Chira crouched down next to her fighter and Zara imagined, for a moment, dropping a concussion bomb on the annoying Togruta's head.

"I never--" Zara snapped but Chira interrupted.

"Whatever. Just shoot down some eyeballs this time, Zero." Chira stood and walked away towards her fighter. If it hadn't been full of delightfully smooth brandy that had definitely been worth the trade, she would have thrown the flask at the Togruta's back. As it was, Zara pocketed it and finished her inspection.

The ice buildup wasn't substantial enough to worry about, and considering the state of maintenance right now, ice was probably the least of her worries when it came to launch. Glancing over at Chira, who was climbing into her craft, Zara followed suit and hopped up, scooping up her helmet from the seat before she sat on it.

She flipped some switches and the A-wing hummed to life, vibrating a little in resistance to the extreme cold. Another switch and the canopy slid closed, and Zara could turn the internal heaters on just a little to get the ice out of her bones. She unwound the scarf wrapped around her lekku and slid her helmet on; it was mostly protection around the top of her head and each side of her face, with a visor, but there wasn't much else to do for Twi'leks. Her head-tails had come away bruised more than once after a rough mission, but it was surviveable.

Stuffing her scarf into a corner where it would be out of the way, she did a final systems check; everyone looked green, though nothing was perfect. Only 4 concussion bombs each, not enough to do much damage but enough to help in a pinch. It would do. Zara glanced left at Killjoy's fighter and saw her give a thumbs-up just as she announced her readiness over their private channel. Time to do this.

"Echo control, A-wings Zero and Killjoy ready for deployment," she announced, switching to the common frequency and awaiting orders. Her hands settled on the ship's controls and she took a settling breath. Maybe she and Chira hated each other, but this was when they both put it aside for the sake of the Alliance. She flipped her repulsorlift on but didn't engage it, counting up in her head how long it took control to send them out. One, two-- have to wait for the shield to drop and get out quick-- four, five...

TAG: Bardan_Jusik, any

 

IC: Akiva Lurell AKA 'Wolf'
Echo Base, Hoth

Waking up on Hoth had become a bit of an experience. She had heard of some of the few other species that sleep standing up having communal sleeping quarters that were small and tight. She had thought they were nuts, but now that she was here, she wished they were apart of the Alliance, and more specifically apart of this base. Still, waking up after the first night shivering and nearly curled down to the floor had seen her investing in getting thermal wraps to wear whilst standing in her quarters that were literally made out of solid ICE!

That and waking up with her Voorpak Chak nested down under her hair by her neck. It's soft tiny barks of protest at her tying her hair back as part of her morning routine was one of the only things that made her smile whilst on this ice ball of a planet. First that Skywalker kid had had them scrambling to chase the frozen wastes for his and Solo's sorry backsides, only to have Wedge find them first after the speeders were finally working in this cold weather after they killed their B-wings. Which meant they had killed her entire reason for staying in the Rebellion on top of sequestering her on this wayward planet.

So, when the day took a turn for the worst she didn't have much to say except to be glad she practically lived in her leather armor with the flight suit over top of it on this ice ball as it was one of the warmest things she owned and layering was a must. Chak even had a small heater in his cage, so when she had stopped by her quarters on the way back to the hangers to 'prepare' she truly truly had just ran in to grab her emergency suit pieces, grab Chak from his cage, and seal the crate that had her meager belongings. Hauling it back she had dropped it off at the edge of the hanger by a bunch of other peoples personal crates to be loaded on a transport or a B-wing, nobody really knew if they would be seen again, nor even be around to worry about their stuff. Just another reason she disliked this Rebellion.

Joining the assembly of pilots she had stayed to the back, it wasn't hard to hear what was being said, and she was sure if she went to another hanger she would hear the same speech given again. "An Imperial fleet has come out of hypserspace and is deployed to lay siege to us." A B-wing lead pilot was stating whose hairless head tails were twitching with her words. If she didn't know it was normal thing even in warm climates she always would be worrying that the hairless wonders were freezing to death. Still as the information sank in she had sighed, as others swore about it she wondered how they could not have seen this coming. They had finally just gotten the base operational and were looking at expanding and growing the base, always the perfect time to lose it, just when you have a bit too much invested that you couldn't possibly haul all of it with you, yet at the same time haven't adapted enough to be able to seriously defend it like you should. For example the fact that their heavy bombers the B-wings she loved were still out of commission in favor of skyhoppers that were not likely to save anybodies life with their weak firepower. "Base command managed to get the energy shield up as soon as the fleet was detected, so we're safe. For now." Looking down at the hangers floor she shook her head, the shield was a glimmer of hope, but without their fighters able to launch they couldn't do much else but try to buy time and run. "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. Her gut sank at that, not only were they without their bombers this had the sound of something bad. . .

"With our squadron grounded, that means you all are getting assigned base defense duties in T-47s." She wanted to shoot whomever prioritized the T-47s to be flyable instead of the bombers and now she was assigned to them. Frakking wonderful! "I'm not leaving my baby." One of the other pilots called out gruffly, to which there were angry calls in agreement. Spitting on the floor she watched as her spit froze almost instantly on contact with the ice floor. She wished could do the same, but only if her ship was flying. She had no desire to be sitting in a hanger holding a hot air compressor when a fight in the air was waiting to possibly end her, or ground troops invading to shoot her in the back as she hoped to get her craft space worthy again after these hanger techs had fouled it all up. 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." She didn't like that she wasn't going to be able to fly out of here on her own when the battle turned sour. This was after all a delaying action and she hoped everyone knew it. The other pilots wore similar disgruntled expressions. "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. Lurell simply shook her head as she turned away from where her craft were. She would let whatever fake people support (droids) wanted to do to get her craft loaded as well as what looked to be a Hutt on rollers along with Captain Wystari were given the orders to take charge of loading the fighters onto a GR-75 transport. Some kid with an armor fantasy seemed to shrug to her over the whole situation, poor kid was probably confused, with a two armed shrug she turned away from the kid and left to see where her wingman was at and whether anything could be done to save their hides long enough for the B-wings to evacuated.

***********************************Scene Change*****************************************

As she clambered atop the T-47 that had been assigned to her, sick of the fact that she was going to be flying this atmo bound death trap which didn't even have the option of a missile nor torpedo counter to what she would be facing. She was kind of glad not to have a GIB as they would be pretty useless without anything but a tow-cable to manage. Then again none of the bomber pilots assigned to the snowspeeders did, unlike those 'top ace' pilots like Rogue Squadron, 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 and keeping the sky clear so that the enemy didn't do the same thing. The big boys in Rogue Squadron were tasked with the anti-armor role what good that second body except for added warmth would be in the small cockpit was a mystery to her.

Settling down into the cockpit, she began the startup sequence, overhearing the orders to a nearby group of Y-Wing pilots. Lucky nerf herders. They got to at least have something that could jump to lightspeed when the whole thing went south and wouldn't have to scurry for a ride off this rock.

As the speech was going on her wingman Waxer was walking by and turned his large eared head up at her. "Are you happy to see me or flying against regs again?" the wobble jaw seemed to move a lot for those few words but with both of their good hearing it wasn't lost on her. Nor was the reason why. The soft vibrations and subtle purring sound from her chest was a sign that Chak was very glad to be tucked inside her flightsuit by her warm body in this cold weather. Only problem was when you and your Wingman could both hear it from ten paces away. Rolling her eyes she grinned at the man, calling out as he scrambled up his own air hopper, "If you have to ask it can't be the former. Code 1.11 shift four." She called back with a toothy grin as she continued the unfamiliar checklist.

Once it was time she closed her canopy, checked her straps and gave a thumbs up to her own wingman, before turning and raising another thumbs up to the ground tech. Over her comm system she heard one last order from Princess Organa before her 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 another fabulous day in the life of a B-wing pilot on Hoth. She mentally grumbled, already knowing she would have to hitch a ride was bad enough, but having it rubbed in was worse. Hopefully the Valkyria if Captain Wystari waited around that long or the GR with her B-wing would still be around. "Code One Five will be transmitted when the evacuation is complete."

"Code check, Comm Check."

"All good, five by purr."

"Smart lobes, focus on the job."

"You know you love it, alright, as you call it." he retorted back.

Nodding she flicked the knob to broadcast on the proper frequency, "Echo base this Wolf and Waxer in quick change trench cover duty wing, ready to launch."

TAG: Bardan_Jusik, those who so wish

 

~IC~ Captain Cassell Wystari
Location: Hoth - Echo Base

Wystari turned away from the Alliance Officer, there were not enough conditioned T-47s for everyone to use and he was not the type to go into the trenches. As he turned to go assist with the evacuation, a pilot waved at him.

“Better luck next time, mate!” A familiar voice said to him. “You’ll get your chance.”

“Trust you to beat me to the fight you old devil you!” Wystari shook his head and grinned at him. “Good luck out there and give them a bloody nose.”

The pilot flashed a dashing grin and gave a mock salute before jumping into the cockpit. “Luck?” He called out. “I am all the good luck they ever need.” He gestured about the cavernous ice hanger. “Don’t worry, I’ll give them more than a bloody nose.”

The sound of hydraulics of the cockpit hatch muffled his further remark. Wystari thought he heard his friend saying something about being paid to do so before announcing that "Rogue Twelve" was set to go. 'Ever the mercenary' Wystari smirked as he stood back and waved as the speeders thrummed to life for take off.

'Clear skies and good luck, my friends.'


Wystari clasped his hands behind his back and made his way to where the transports were berthed and getting loaded to depart. Along the way he passed a couple of Corellian ships, including the Valkyria. Safely onboard was a pet Tooka that belonged to one of the pilots, Jocelyn. She was concerned about Carols being left behind and if he could mind her for her and return the Tooka when they are all at the rendezvous point. As tempting as it was to leave this iceball, he couldn’t depart just yet. He had to make sure everyone else was ready.

When he arrived to where the larger Gallofree transports, he passed a large organic shape that was cursing in Huttese. That was an unexpected sight even though he had heard inklings of one being here. Wystari shook his head and not let his bemused smile show as he sized up the transports and the task ahead.

TAG: Open

 

​

IC: Nikoloz “SQ” Dimmall
Hoth: Echo Base Hangar Bay

Cold, dirty, greasy human fingers fidgeted with an equally soiled red mechanic’s rag as the officer gave the mission details. Their owner, a dark haired Coruscanti wearing a dark blue flight suit, sighed exasperatedly when told they’d be leaving the shield to attack the heart of the invading Imperial forces. While he understood the tactical reason for the near suicidal attack it didn’t mean he had to like it. Scowling, he ignored the rest and the others and turned to towards his X-Wing to get a head start on preparations.

Max isn’t going to like this, he mused silently as he ducked under the nose of a Y-Wing. Distracted as he was, he nearly bumped right into a red haired, voluptuous female pilot. Side stepping awkwardly, he banged his head against the nose of the craft he just went under. “Ah!” he grimaced, rubbing his head in pain.

“Sorry about that SQ,” the redhead’s sultry voice was like a siren’s call to Nik, "but I wanted to catch you before you took off to let you know I was excited that we were paired together." Electricity and warmth shot through his barrel chest as she put her hands on it; it had been too long since he had know any kind of intimacy. Her intense grey eyes pulled him in, demanding his attention.

With great effort he tore his eyes away and instead looked toward the bomber he’d run into while sheepishly responding, “Sorry. It’s my fault Grinder for not watching where I was going.” He’d been stationed at Hoth for a while now and Kirana “Grinder” Thanas had been living in the room next to his for most of it. While the official story for Grinder’s callsign was that she had put her nose to the grind stone to get through flight school and had run a flight of TIEs through a meat grinder during one of her first ops. However, Nik was convinced she might have earned it for her... uh... extracurricular activities he could hear nightly coming through the thinnish sheet of ice that separated their rooms. One way to keep warm on this forsaken planet!

Her hands slid from his chest, capturing his right arm before pulling him playfully towards their T-65s. “Don’t worry about it SQ. Ready for your first big operation? Looks like our private channel is 68.01.” She looked back and winked at him. “We’ve been training for a while now and I’m more than confident that you are ready!” Part of him wanted to let his inhibitions go and flirt with the Coruscanti... but that could be dangerous. Instead he steeled himself by reaching up and gripping his holo-locket that held a hologram of his wife and child inside. Rolling his wrist he broke Kirana’s grasp and turned towards the ladder of his X-Wing. “I’m sure we will be fine,” he lied.

With a pout on her face Kirana continued ahead to her X-Wing and climbed up her ladder. “Be sure to check my six, SQ” she teased as she climbed seductively into the cockpit and Nik, stuck on the bottom rung of his own ladder, couldn’t help but stare with his mouth agape.

A series of angry whirs and beeps from below interrupted the exchange between the wingmen and Nik could only sigh heavily. “No Max we are not becoming a thing.” A sarcastic whir and beep sounded off as the R5 droid rolled under the X-Wing and ascended into his position behind the cockpit. “That’s not very polite.” A long solid beep. “I don’t care if it is true or not. Are we prepped?” Another sarcastic series of beeps followed by a few angry blowing raspberry sounds. “I’m sure they did their job competently, no need to curse them out.” Another wave of raspberries came from the yellow and red droid. “OK! OK! Fine! I’ll check it myself!”

Stepping off the ladder Nik pulled his black flight gloves from their place on his belt and slipped them on while checking the items his droid Max had insisted the mechanic check himself. Ensuring the cables were snug and knocking off what ice he could Nik paused at the small cargo compartment. Earlier he had put what few personal items he had inside. Placing a black gloved hand on the compartment door he whispered a little prayer before climbing up into the cockpit. “Happy?” Max whirred. “No, I don’t suppose you ever are.” Strapping on his helmet the mechanic closed the canopy. With a few flicks of his fingers he flipped a few switches, the dashboard lit up and the sublight engines roared to life.

“What’s our load out?” Max brought the weapons inventory up on the screen. He whistled, “Three torps and full countermeasures, at least we have that.” Max whirred inquisitively. “Well it might come in handy as we’ve been ordered to welcome the Imperial landing party to Hoth.” Nik smirked as Max roared and rocked the X-Wing as he went off on a little tirade. See, knew he wouldn’t like that. “Relax,” Nik said in a vain attempt to calm his astromech down, “it’s a simple strafe and haul ass op. How hard could it be?” Ignoring Max’s tyrannical response, Nik mindlessly through his communications checks with Grinder and Echo Base Traffic Control. Just how hard would it be, he pondered as he eased the X-Wing out of the hangar.

Tag: Bardan_Jusik, Rebecca_Daniels, galactic-vagabond422, BookExogorth, The Admiral, Mitth_Fisto

 

G M A P P R O V E D

Name: Shirl Coppa
Callsign: Ditch
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Rank/Affiliation: Flight Lieutenant, Rebel Alliance
Languages: Basic, binary, Ugnaught
Residence: Cloud City
Home Planet: Bespin
Age: 28
Approved Special Features: N/A

Character Traits

Personality: Passive but present, Shirl enjoys his pessimism and with it the ability to make light of anything. He values follow-through and honor as one in the same. If you say you will do something, you will do it - and vice versa.

Habits/Mannerisms: Constantly subscribing to various galaxy wide services that he doesn't need. He occasionally uses a service that helps him keep tabs on his ex-wife, dubbed 'Track-her.' Currently, he is enthused with a wine/cigar subscription that sends him a bottle a week. So far, he's liking it.

Likes/Dislikes: Likes wine, spirits, beer. In that order. Appreciating the finer things in life, Shirl considers himself a man of class, despite having literally nothing to his name after his recent divorce. Dislikes: show-boating (unless done right,) indecisiveness (often within himself.)
Racial Traits: thin black hair, not as good at crunching numbers as everyone might assume.


Strengths and Weaknesses:

Physical Strengths and Weaknesses: Adaptable, quick reflexes (which suffers every time he goes under the bottle.)

Mental Strengths and Weaknesses: Shirl's mental fortitude is immense, he is good at staying on point- or in other words: doesn't get sidetracked very easy. Weaknesses: Isn't a very good listener, jumps the gun often without forethought.

Emotional Strengths and Weaknesses: Able to empathize well with others. Tends to emotionally sabotage himself, coming down on himself for things he shouldn't.

Looks:
Appearance: Clean shaven, long hair.

Eye Color: Brown
Hair: Space Black
Skin Color: Fair
Clothing: Combination flight suit/leisure robes, something he's trying out from a clothing subcription...

Personal History:

Immediate Family: Doesn't really keep in touch with his divorced parents, mother still lives on Cloud City. Father's whereabouts are unknown. Wants to find him so he can kill him for naming him Shirl.

Spouse/Children: Recently divorced after sabotaging his own marriage with unfaithfulness, after two years of trying to work it out - his wife left him. They had one daughter together, who Shirl hasn't seen in 2 years.

Biography: Shirl often flew cloud cars as a level two mechanic for the city government of Cloud City. A by-the-rules kind of guy, Shirl never wanted war and pushed the idea that the galaxy needed to remain unified under the Empire - flaws and all. That all changed after the destruction of Alderaan. Using his high level education, it didn't take long for him to go underground deep enough until he found Rebel agents who got him in contact with the fleet. Not really having a decorated background with any military group, Shirl wasn't embraced at first, until he proved himself behind the controls of a B-Wing. Still, with his drinking habits and apparent lack of discipline, Rebellion Brass kept him around. To Shirl, he figured they couldn't afford to be picky with who joined them.


Miscellaneous:

Pets: none
Weapons: Retractable staff equipped to his belt, .515 Blaster Pistol holstered to his side.
Starship Qualifications: Speeders, cloud cars, B-Wing, Y-Wing
Droid: R3-K1, nicknamed 'B.E.N.'

 

GM Update: Part I​

IC: Beskaryc Taab/Naomi Zeitsev (NPC)
Northern edge of the battle area, Hoth

Sergeant Zeitsev held her breath and listened carefully to the spotter droid as it calculated the range to target. "Eight hundred and eighty seven meters on the nose", came the final rather precise estimation. Reaching forward along her rifle she adjusted the optic to that range. She had been just a few meters off in her own rough range estimation, and was glad the spotter droid was able to calculate it more accurately. it meant no overshot, and she would be able to fulfill her mantra of "one shot, one kill."

Her adjustments done she settled in behind the blaster rifle as she laid out prone to best support her long distance shot. She didn't have much in the way of concealment here, just here white and grey garments, well suited to the environment of Hoth, but she would have preferred more. Still, the Imperial in her sights would never see the shot coming. She watched through her optic as the snowtrooper moved forward with his men. He was at the very least in charge of the platoon he was leading, perhaps even a company commander. He had paused numerous times and tilted his head to the side in that time honored tradition of someone communicating over a helmet mounted comm system. Zeitsev took in a shallow breath, before placing another bit of snow in her mouth to keep her breath from showing. She tightened her finger on the trigger and pr...

Suddenly the target was gone, obscured by a large dullish grey object. Zeitsev relaxed her trigger finger and blinked before pulling her face away from the stock of her rifle to see what was going on. "Walker," the spotter droid reported. The small floating orb, not much larger than a training remote, didn't have much in the way of personality. Still she could see now that it wasn't lying, an AT-AT had indeed come between herself and her target, it's massive leg obscuring her target. "Tell me sooner next time," she barked quietly through gritted teeth. The droid didn't seem offended by her frustration but said simply. "Range to target now....872 meters." Zeitsev rolled her eyes as she again made an adjustment to her rifle's optic and sighted in on the snowtrooper. "OK, I got him..." she announced as the walker moved beyond the platoon with the snowtroopers following behind. "Shooter's discretion," the droid said with no emotion, as if this was just another day at the range, and perhaps for the collection of cold circuitry, it was. Zeitsev again tightened her finger around the trigger, felt the natural pause in her breathing and pressed the trigger.

*pew*

The sound of a single shot rang out, loud to Zeitzev and her droid, but the sniper knew it would be drowned out among the cacophony of the battle. A moment later the red bolt struck the company commander (she was sure he was leading the company and not just the platoon now) and he went down lifelessly into a heap in the snow. His company behind him stopped and looked around cautiously so Zeitsev lined up another shot, this time on what she figured was the company's First Sergeant. "We should relocate." The droid said disturbing her train of thought. Sighing loudly she kept the ranking NCO in her sights. "I have the shot," she insisted, but deep down she knew the droid was right. Her previous shot hadn't been seen by the troopers, that much was certain, but now the eyes of the entire company were scanning the hillside where she had hidden herself. Another shot from here would make her an easy mark, and probably the target of one of the AT-ST's guarding the flanks of the advancing Imperials. She had nothing in her arsenal to take on one of the giant walking chickens. "OK, you're..." she began to say as she slid her rifle forward away from her face.

"Proximity alert...to your right." The droid announced suddenly, with a degree of alarm to it's voice that Zeitsev didn't know existed. "Three hundred meters....two fifty..." Sithspit, whatever it was it was coming in fast. She turned rapidly to her right looking for whatever it was coming their way... "100 meters..." the droid spoke it's last words as a flurry of yellow blaster fire sprayed down from above, one bolt struck it directly causing it to explode in a shower of short lived shrapnel.

None of that hit Zeitsev, but she had her own problems as three of the yellow blaster bolts struck her across her arm and midsection. She dropped her rifle in pain and rolled over onto her back to see the grey clad form of a Mandalorian drop down from the sky to land next to her, his jetpack still whining as he did so. He looked at her through his T-Visor, before drawing a pistol from his belt and putting another last round between her eyes...

Beskaryc Taab surveyed the scene before him now. His anchor shot, while not strictly honorable, or even legal, had eliminated whatever threat the Rebel sniper may have presented to himself and his squad as they moved through this area. They were on a time crunch and didn't have time for prisoners, but they couldn't afford to leave her behind either. Even if they stripped her of weapons and communications gear she could find a way of making trouble for the squad. Rebels excelled at making trouble. So he had put her down, he very much doubted that anyone in the Imperial chain of command would complain. He tilted his head to one side as he commed back to the rest of the squad. "Saber one, Saber six. Trill down rally on me." He was met by two brief bursts of static as Saber one acknowledged his message and began moving the rest of his men forward.

They had been on this approach route to their objective when the shot from the sniper had alerted them to her position. Taab had gone forward to secure the route and eliminate the threat. Now as his men moved into position around him he looked towards their objective and lowered the rangefinder on the left side of his buy'ce (helmet). "OK, Sabers," he said quietly to the men around him. Some of them were likewise keenly observing the bunker, while others were scanning the ground and sky around them. none of them had their eyes on him. "That bunker is our mission, we secure it it and Lord Vader's shuttle lands on top of it once the shield is down." They all nodded as they continued to watch their own perimeter. Taking the bunker would allow quick and easy access to the interior of the base once the shield was down and Darth Vader had arrived, at least that was the plan.

Taab raised his rangefinder and looked back to where the AT-AT's were advancing, too slowly in Taab's mind, his squad should have been sent to secure the sheild generator instead of the LZ, it would be destroyed by now. Shaking his head he realized how crazy that was. he had been angry enough about this tasking beyond his original job assignment, taking out the generator went well beyond even that. With a sigh he looked back to the bunker. "OK, let's go. Just like we planned."

TAG: no one

---

IC: Atin Taab
Thunder flight, battle of Hoth

"Echo base this Wolf and Waxer in quick change trench cover duty wing, ready to launch." Atin heard Wolf and other's calling in their readiness to launch adding his voice with "Scorch and Ripper, ready to fight." There didn't seem to be much more to say than that and within moments Thunder lead led the makeshift squadron out of the bay, following after the Rogues as they sped towards the approaching Imperial forces.

Blaster bolts began explosding arround them as they got closer to the formation of Imperial walkers. "Ripper, let's get above this," Scorch called out as he pulled back on the stick and brought the speeder up well over the blaster barrage coming from the AT-ATs. "Scorch at angels two" he reported to Thunder lead as the anti-aircraft fire died down. He was still pretty low and well within range of the enemy defenses, but not nearly as low as the Rogues who flew directly into the barrage. What was Skywalker thinking? Atin mumbled under his breath as he watched one of the Rogues explode mid flight. They all knew that the armor on the AT-AT would be too strong for blasters, especially to the vehicle's front where that armor would be thickest. That's also where all an AT-AT's weapons coverage was as well. "Should have taken them up and over and attacked them from behind," Atin mumbled to no one. He sure as osik wasn't going to put that out over the tactical net. Skywalker was the fair haired child and could do no wrong, but attacking into the teeth of those AT-ATs was suicidal.

"Thunder flight, FAC." A call came in from the forward air controller. "Infantry in the open just behind the walkers." Atin dipped his wing and caught sight of them, at least two companies worth following behind the walking behemoths, giving them cover from the ground. They would spread out and mop up any Rebels left in the trenches once the walkers had broken through the lines. "You're cleared for strafing runs on the north/south axis." Atin nodded his head thoughtfully. The Imperials were approaching from the west, so keeping their strafing runs north to south would mean little risk of the speeder overshooting or undershooting and hitting their own troops. It also meant that they could stay out of reach of the AT-ATs guns which pointed out on front of them, not behind where the snowtroopers were. "Roger that, Scorch and Ripper rolling in," Atin called out as he waggled his wings and peeled around for a pass at the line of troopers noticing that behind him the other speeders were lining up for their own attack runs.

Atin knew that their air superiority wouldn't last for long, once the shield was down the Empire would send in TIE fighters to contest the airspace. Better gets our licks in now while we can. Through the front windscreen of his cockpit Atin picked up a group of snowtroopers clustered together, a platoon that hadn't dispersed even though it was clear that the Rebels had air cover. Pressing the firing knob on his control yoke the Mandalorian sent a burst of heavy blaster fire into their midst killing scores of them and sending the rest scrambling. Pulling up slightly he began searching for another target of opportunity when blaster fire walked its up towards the speeder, narrowly missing it just to port.

Atin pulled off of his attack run as more blaster bolts sizzled by. "Be advised," he heard a call from Ripper over the sound of his own guns firing. "Chickens providing antiair cover for the grunts." So that's what it was Atin thought as he sped over the battlefield and began to circle around. The AT-STs that he thought were just covering the larger walkers flanks were actually providing them and their accompanying infantry with anti-air support. Well that made the job a whole lot harder Atin grimaced as he readied another attack run, this time knowing full well what he was flying in to.

TAG: Mitth_Fisto, The Vanguard

OOC: Infantry on the ground and AT-STs are fair game Mitthy and Vanguard, feel free to post any damage to them as desired in your post (keeping within the limits of what we know about the outcome of the battle of Hoth OOG of course.)

---

IC: Commander Craven (NPC)
Main Hanger, Echo Base, Hoth

The roar of fighters and speeders taking off echoed through the cavernous confines of the bases main hanger as Commander Craven rushed through the snow carved corridors in search of a way off this rock. The men and women under his command had been the engineers that had carved those tunnels and made this a viable base, and now he feared he was going to be buried in the very tunnels he had helped to construct. There had to be a way out, a way off the base. Command staff had priority, followed by the spooks and intelligence types. if they were captured there was no telling what the Empire could glean from them with their "enhanced interrogation" techniques. the war fighters were on the evac list too, any that survived after buying the command staff time to run themselves that is. Supply officers weren't being given a high priority, but given that they were the ones loading the freighters with whatever the Alliance could get away with Craven knew that they would manage to finagle their way on board an evacuating ship. But where did that leave him? High an dry and in the clutches of the Empire as far as he was concerned, either that or dead and buried under tons of snow and ice. His faced recoiled in terror, he didn't know which was a worse fate.

Coming into the hangar bay he saw several transports be loaded with supplies and personnel. He wiped his hand across his brow, wondering at how he could sweat in temperatures like these. He could try his luck getting on a troop carrier, his name wouldn't be on an evac list, but maybe he could use his commander's pips and bluster his way onto an evacuating transport. he started to make his way towards one of them but his will left him as he moved into the back of the line and was given knowing,,and disapproving, looks from the others. He was an outsider, not a member of their cell or unit or whatever it was called. Sheepishly pulling himself away he looked furtively around the bay, searching for an escape. Nothing he saw looked very promising until he caught sight of a Hutt.

The momentary surprise at seeing the sluglike creature made him forget for a precious moment of his own predicament. He didn't know there were any Hutts in the Alliance, but now that he did he saw his opportunity. Hutts were notoriously ambiguous with their morals. Surely he could barter his way on board this freighter that he and a few others seemed to be loading with equipment, including several large fighters. Craven didn't know the type, he was never very good with that sort of thing, but they looked dangerous and he wondered for a moment why they weren't flying in the battle.

Rushing towards the Hutt and his compatriots Craven cried out. "Wait, wait." He put hand on the Hutt's shoulder, hoping the beast couldn't feel his sweaty palms under its own layer of slime. "There has to be a way to get me aboard that freighter." The hanger shook as the hill the base had been built inside of shook under the weight of heavy laser fire from the AT-Ats. Craven knew the base could withstand quite a bit of this sort of pounding, but it wouldn't hold out forever. He had to leave, now. Whether they let him aboard that ship or not, he was going to get aboard. His crazed eyes belied his feelings as his free hand inched closer to the blaster pistol on his belt.

TAG: Outsourced, Chyntuck, Corellian_Outrider

 

GM Update: Part II​

IC: Striker Lead
Battle of Hoth

The dozen or so Y-Wings exited the hanger bay, following behind the snowspeeders which rushed towards the oncoming AT-ATs with reckless abandon. The shield was well above them, and because of it no TIE fighters could get through to threaten them. Those AT-ATs would be a different story, better to avoid them if at all possible and let them be handled by the speeders of Rogue Squadron.

"Striker flight, go to angels 10," she ordered to the other Y-wings as they climbed high above the battlefield below. She could see now the X-Wings and a corresponding pair of A-Wings move out in front of them. Their escort would pave the way for them much as the ion cannon was doing for the transports now flying up towards the shield. She knew she and the others in Striker Flight could have done a lot of damage to the walkers that had already penetrated the protective barrier around Echo base, but they were after bigger game. Rather than take out walkers one at a time, they would hit the massive landing barges and take out multiple walkers, and hundreds of troops with each strike.

"Prepare to open shield," came the voice from control as Striker group neared the outer limits of the shield. This was going to take split second timing to..

"Stand by ion control..." another voice could be heard. "Go now!" Striker Lead ordered, pushing her throttles to the stops. The shield was still up, but by the time they got there it should be down. At least that's what she hoped. The shield loomed large outside her cockpit as her fighter got closer and closer. She feared she was going to have to abort, but it was already too late, there was going to be avoiding the shield before her craft st...

...and then with a flicker the shield died and her craft was through, followed by most of the Y-Wings before it snapped back into place. One Y-Wing was too slow and slammed into the reconstituted shield exploding and raining debris down within its perimeter. "We've lost Goose," came the call from the lost Y-Wing's wingman. the sadness was evident in his voice, but there was no time for mourning. They had a mission to accomplish, and now that they were no longer protected by the shield, they were vulnerable.

Almost immediately a dozen TIE fighters made to pounce on the strike force, but the A-Wings and X-Wings provided them top cover intercepted them first. Striker Lead wasn't sure how long they could hold the fighters off, but she knew it would be for long enough. Down below her, already on the ground were over a half dozen AT-ATs, the second wave of heavy armor destined for Echo base, surrounded by massed infantry and even clustered AT-STs that hadn't yet moved out to protect the groups flanks. Checking her scope, Striker Lead called out to the nearest group of fighters.

"Joy," she ordered. "Take an element (four fighters) and hit those walkers. See what else you can take out with them." All clustered together like that it shouldn't prove too difficult, provided the walkers didn't shoot down the wishbones first. She waited a beat as she saw Joy and her wingman take point on their bombing run then looked out to the front.

It was a pair of Gozanti class cruisers , each loaded down with a pair of AT-AT walkers. If they could take those out before they landed...she smiled to herself and checked her wing. "Kid, Maniac, you're with me." She made sure her shields were set double front as laser fire from the cruisers began splashing off of them, rocking her fighter-bomber hard. "Let's take out those cruisers before they can land!"

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

OOC: OK a recap here to clarify because it is likely I missed something. Mostlymad, Exogorth and Becca, we've got a dozen TIE fighters diving down towards the Y-Wings from above. Your characters job to make sure they don't get through. Your character's wingmen are yours to control for the duration of this battle, feel free to damage them as you see fit. Likewise feel free to post any damage to the incoming TIEs as needed as well.

The Admiral, your group of four Y-Wings (you may control them all and post damage to them as desired) is attacking the landing zone itself. Call it at least six AT-ATs, multiple AT-STs, assorted landing craft and shuttles as well as massed infantry waiting for marching orders is all assembled below you. You may post damage to those as required for your post.

GV422, you've got the pair of Gozanti class cruisers loaded with AT-ATs hanging off of them to take care of. Figure seven Y-Wings total attacking those two (including Striker Lead). You can post for the actions of all of those as well in your post (including posting damage to any of them except Striker Lead). Likewise you can post results of the attack on the cruisers as well.

For everyone, I know I just gave you a bunch of fighters you can control, but if you just want to keep it to the actions of your own character, that's fine too. I just want to give everyone as much flexibility as possible in these posts. Any qustions go ahead and PM me and I'll answer as I am able.

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IC: Paladin (NPC)
Shady Flight, Battle of Hoth

"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." there was a brief pause from control and paladin figured that no one had even thought of that yet.

"Roger that, Shady flight," came the eventual reply, telling the three craft what flight name had been thought up for them,. made up on the fly more likely paladin thought to himself. "You're clear for launch." And with a war whoop that he kept to himself and didn't put out over the wireless, Paladin followed Mean Streak out of the bay with the Hercules close behind.

They angled up quickly, racing over the battle below and to the shield's perimeter. If they struck it while it was still up they would be splattered against it and destroyed. "Prepare to open shield," came the voice from control

"Stand by ion control..." another voice could be heard.

"Fire." the voice of General Riekaan echoed out over the wireless. Two ionized bolts came flying past the pair of X-Wings, nearly striking the Corellian Action VI they were escorting at the same moment the shield was dropped. All three craft cleared it before the shield snapped back into place as they followed out the shots that would hopefully clear their way.

As they left atmosphere behind the droids plugged into each fighter began their calculations for the microjump that would take them away from the system. the droids and the freighter had to co-ordinate their efforts so they all ended up in the same place. Meanwhile Paladin noticed incoming on his radar screen.

"Mean Streak, Paladin." He announced over the Shady frequency. he didn't bother with the Shady One or two callsigns, as they were too easy to misunderstand in the heat of battle. Which one was which anyway? Even now he couldn't remember. But he knew he was Paladin and that mean Streak was Mean Streak, so he kept it simple.

"Incoming Eyeballs (TIE Fighters) at our three." That put the pair of X-Wings between the TIE and the Hercules. "Looks like they have a pair of Dupes (TIE Bombers) trailing." He tightened his grip on the control stick. the bombers would be going for the transport while the fighters aimed to keep the escort busy he thought as another call came in, this time from the Hercules.

"Those bombers have torpedo lock on us!"

TAG: Sarge.

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IC: Blue (NPC)
Bandit five, Battle of Hoth

“I'm right behind you, Blue.” The words came in from his wingman and the Duros applied thrust and off they went into the sky. Blue was out in front followed closely behind by Pallas and then slightly farther back then it should have been came the Mobquet medium transport dubbed the No Deal. "Keep it tight," Blue ordered as the flight approached the shield which dropped for them right on time as several shots from the ion cannon whizzed past his canopy. "Wow, that's a close shave." He exclaimed over the net. The bandits always were a bit more lax on comm standards than some other Rebel units. Reaching space though he could see the shots had been well placed, and been well worth it.

Out in front of them, floating like a wounded whale was a Star Destroyer. It was adrift, it's lights flickering and engines dead. It must have taken several direct hits from the ion cannon, if it had not Blue knew that he and his flight would have been sitting ducks for the leviathan. "Guess we're lucky after all." He commed out to his wingman, before realizing he spoke too soon. On his scanner he saw a quartet of TIE Interceptors in attack formation speeding their way towards the No Deal. Well behind them, guarding the stricken Star Destroyer were a dozen more of the fast and lethal craft.

"Accelerate to attack speed and lock S-Foils in attack position." He called out to Pallas. "Let's keep those fighters off the transport."

TAG: Mistress_Renata

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IC: Angel (NPC)
Gonzo Flight, battle of Hoth

In what was becoming a well synchronized ballet between fighters, transport, ion control and those manning the shield generator the fighters of Gonzo flight sailed past the point of no return with the Gambler's Addiction close behind. "Vixen, looks like we got a target of opportunity here." Angel called out over their shared comm frequency as soon as they had cleared atmosphere. Out ahead of them was a Gozanti class cruiser, and it had clearly been struck by Echo base's ion cannon. "Easy pickings." The twi'lek armed his proton torpedoes and started to bring his nose around. This vessel could have just dropped off a pair of walkers to the surface and been caught on it's ascent. Bringing his nose around though he saw four quick flashes coming from around the other side of the disabled cruiser. "Eyeballs (TIE Fighters)," he called out. The cruiser must have been carrying those, not walkers. That complicated things he thought as the four fighters came racing towards he and Vixen and opened fire.

TAG: Adalia-Durron

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IC: Mustang (NPC)
Rider Flight, Battle of Hoth

Mustang grimaced as the flight cleared the shield perimeter. Time was running out and there had been talk over the comms that Rebel Command might try protecting two transports at once. Luckily that time had not yet come as he and Veteran launched from the base protecting the Omarian Star. Upon escaping atmo Mustang could see why command thought it might be worth the risk. Space was nearly clear of contacts as the Imperial fleet had dispersed somewhat either chasing down fleeing Rebels or trying to stay clear of the Ion Cannon down at Echo base. All was not well though as he could see the wreckage of several transports as well as debris from Rebel fighters interspersed with their Imperial counterparts floating about. "Let's make a quick..." he began to comm his wingman eagerly before his scanner flashed a warning at him.

"Veteran, we've got trouble. Pair of Skiprays...". He managed to get out before the lead blastboat fired a pair of torpedoes at the Omarian Star.

TAG: Anedon

OOC: Transport escort pilots, a few notes for you. You're all on your own here. I thought about having you go up one at a time (two fighters against a Star Destroyer), but figured no one wants to wait behind and make boring posts while we send one group into battle at a time, so everyone's battle will be going on simultaneously in an OOC context, however for the purposes of In Character POV the times are actually staggered (PM me if that is confusing). Boiled down to simplest terms it means each of you and your assigned NPC wingman are on their own with no hope of support from other PCs or NPCs. Feel free to engage the attacking craft at your leisure, controlling their actions in your post, posting damage to them or even destroying them as you see fit. The same goes for your won wingmen and the cargo ship under your care. I do ask that you not destroy all the enemy fighters in one post here, so leave some around for my next update. Those of you with capital ships in your area, you may also attack these if you desire (certainly not saying you have to, or even should) but I'll post damage to those as necessary.

 

IC: Foodie
Main Hangar, Echo Base, Hoth

Foodie was extremely proud of himself. His plan to enlist the help of the binary loadlifters has worked like a well-greased servomotor; he had reached the charging bank before anyone else could get there and he had four of the hulking droids in his service. They’d already cleared enough space on the transport to begin loading the malfunctioning fighters, and now two of his mechanical partners were ferrying low-priority supplies off the GR-75 while the other two manoeuvred the B-wings on board. Meanwhile, the Hutt sergeant was ranting about the details of the manifesto in-between shouting curse-laced instructions, and Captain Wystari seemed to be merely keeping pilots and ground staff out of the way. Not that the two organics weren’t being helpful – Koruga was really good at maintaining a semblance of organisation in the chaos that was Echo Base, and the long lines of evacuees that were forming in the hangar bay definitely needed to be managed so as not to impede progress – but Foodie felt that this was essentially his operation, and he was delivering results to the best of his ability. He could only hope that someone in the chain of command, or perhaps even just Koruga and Wystari, was paying attention and noticing his talents.

At the same time, he had this nagging feeling that he was better than this. Loading and offloading supplies was tedious work, and binary loadlifters weren’t the best of conversationalists. Worse, in the end they were all taking their marching orders from the Hutt, and Foodie doubted that the slug-like alien saw any difference between him and the dim-witted labour droids who were doing the heavy lifting. As for Captain Wystari... the Corellian was smiling genially at everyone and anyone, wishing them well in their upcoming mission and receiving similar greetings in return. Captain Wystari had friends – real friends. Foodie had... well, he had called in a favour from the dumbest droids in the galaxy. In that moment he wished that he was back in the hairdressing salon on Coruscant, preparing kahve for the customers while he exchanged jokes with Mousey the cleaning droid. He missed his family, or what he had come to think of as a family, if there could be such a thing for droids.

But this wasn’t the time to wax nostalgic. The Empire was upon them, the entire base was shaking under the relentless bombardment of the AT-ATs, and there was still work to be done. He stepped out of the transport’s hangar bay onto the boarding ramp to ask Sergeant Koruga what they should be doing next, and he saw the Hutt in conversation with a human officer – a commander, judging by the insignia on his uniform. At first Foodie thought nothing of it, until he noticed the man’s frantic appearance and the crazed gleam in his eyes. And... was his hand reaching for his blaster? This wasn’t going to end well.

Foodie had to intervene before things got out of hand. He quickly considered his options. Stabbing the commander with a skewer or a bread knife would result in a lot of unnecessary datawork; he had used the blowtorch that he normally dedicated to making crème brulée too often on menial mechanical repairs and was running low on fuel; his freeze rod would be useless in the temperatures of Echo Base... and suddenly it dawned on him. Senator Zurros had equipped him with seasnips, a pair of molecule-thin, ultra-sharp blades embedded in his forefinger to dissect fish and molluscs and remove potentially toxic entrails while keeping as much as possible of the valuable flesh for sulyet. Using them on leather was something of a culinary heresy, but it would work perfectly under the circumstances.

He walked up casually to the newcomer and cut the straps tying his holster to his belt.

-------------------------------------------

Tags: Bardan_Jusik Outsourced Corellian_Outrider

OOC: I hope I’m not going too far in presuming what Koruga and Wystari are up to in this scene. If I am, please let me know so that I don’t do it again Also, please just pretend that Foodie is having delusions of grandeur and that the other two are doing a lot more that he simply didn’t notice.

 

IC: Ianna Mcear
Battle of Hoth

Ianna took a few deep breaths then launched into the snow bound battlefield. She formed up with the others in her flight just off the ‘wing’ of Maniac and next to Striker Lead. Looking at her scopes and out her canopy she got a sense of what was heading their way. The slight shimmer of the shield was well above her, a ward against the TIEs hung threatening in the space above the base. Out ahead of her she saw the great lumbering behemoths marching unchecked towards the base. Her mission wasn’t to engage with those. That was left up to the faster, nimbler Snowspeeders and pilots of the vaulted Rogue Squadron. Below her were the trenches filled with men and women standing on the line just hoping to buy others more time to escape.

A short breath left her, everyone had a part to play, everyone had things they needed to do to keep the fire of hope burning.

"Striker flight, go to angels 10," Striker Lead called out.

"Wait...What?" Ianna said to herself. Her hand moved to her comm to ask for clarification. "Um…" She started.

"10,000 ft. Kid," Maniac replied before she could ask her question.

"Oh, ok." Her cheeks turned a little redder and her ears warmed with her embarrassment. She pulled back on the flight stick bringing her nose up and climbing into the stark white sky, still glinting in the light of the shield that had kept them safe for their admittedly short time here.

"Prepare to open shield," Echo Control called out, Ianna could feel sweat beading on her palms. They would have to be quick, there was no margin for error. Too slow at they would crash against the shield. It was a tough ask to make the slower moving ‘Wishbone’ to thread the needle like that.

"Stand by ion control..."

"Go now!" Striker lead called out. Ianna slammed her throttle to full eyes locked ahead waiting for the shield to drop and hope she made it through. Holding her course she looked at her scopes again noticing that one of them was lagging behind. Goose.

"Goose," the young woman called out to the slowing pilot, "Goose what’s going on, divert power from shields, weapons something." her voice was pleading begging the pilot to find some way to get a little more speed out of his craft. Her eyes snap back and forth between looking out the canopy and at her scopes. Her worry was plastered across her face as they drew closer and closer to the edge of the shield.

She let out the breath she’d been holding in as she crossed the line. Looking down at her scopes she watched in horror as Goose fell off her screen.

"No." The word fell from her lips without her thinking about it.

"We've lost Goose," The fallen pilot’s wingman called out, the sadness apparent in his voice. Ianna bowed her head her face darkening. Another Rebel had fallen before the shots started being fired.

Right away TIEs pounced on the Y-Wings thankfully their fighter cover intervened leaving the bombers to make their runs in relative peace.

"Joy," Striker Lead ordered. Ianna had to think for a bit to recall who’s callsign that was. "Take an element and hit those walkers. See what else you can take out with them." As she watched the snubfighters break off she could identify Miss Sunwalker’s Y-Wing.

Ianna gave a little salute not knowing if the older woman would see it. Returning her attention to the front she sees two Gozanti class cruisers loaded down with AT-ATs. If she can take them out now that would be four less metal monsters marching on Echo Base, give them more time to evacuate.

"Kid, Maniac, you're with me."

"Yes mam'," The two pilots reply in unison. Ianna followed her commander setting her shields double front, just like in training. Maniac burst out ahead breaking formation.

"Maniac," Ianna snapped on the private channel between them. "What are you doing?"

"Not putting my shields double front." As green laser blasts splashed against her shields, she could see Maniac dipping, dodging the fire coming in.

"He’s drawing their fire." Striker Lead commented. "Begin targeting."

Ianna lowered her targeting computer and began acquiring a lock on the cruisers ahead of her. Her craft shook with each hit and her shields were weakening with each flash. She held her course waiting until her computer locked in her target.

Maniac loosed his pair of torpedos, Ianna followed soon after. Their torpedos crash into the hull of the ship with brilliant orange flashes leaving gaping holes into the descending craft. More and more torps pour into the boxy grey cruisers, a dozen flashes burst across the two ships. Secondary explosions began to rip one of the Gozanti apart and the other took a sharp nose dive.

A few shouts of victory go out over the comms.

"WOOO." Ianna chipped in feeling the hope beginning to fill her chest. She pulled up over the crumbling craft eyes searching for her wingmate. She spotted him turning hard to come around for another pass.

"Maniac, one pass and haul ass." She reminded her wingmate.

"Just one more torp won’t do any…" Ianna watched as a pot shot from the ground sparked near the canopy. She heard a grunt on the other end.

"Maniac…" Her voice cracked over their private channel . She was panicked, worried for her friend, "Maniac…you ok."

She watched his Y-Wing as it began to waver on its course. She pulled close to him trying to see inside his cockpit.

"Kid," The older man said, physical pain in his words. She could almost hear the flight sick shaking in his hands. "Been hit, bleeding pretty bad. Not making it. Be good for me huh…" he eked out, between obviously gritted teeth. "Don’t lose that smile. Don’t let this universe take that from you."

"No, No." she begged, "Just set down, you can get into the gunner…"

"No can do Kid."

Tears began to sting her eyes.

"Ten Seconds…" she replied her throat closing up, "Stay alive for ten seconds. I can...I can…" Her mind was racing searching for some solution, there had to be a way. "Ten Seconds." she said again. It was something she’d heard once. All a pilot needed to do was stay alive for the next ten seconds. In that time things could change for the better, all you needed to do was keep flying for that time.

"No time Kid. Get out of here." The young girl couldn’t see, didn’t know what was going through his mind as the lifeblood slowly ebbed out of him. His Y-Wing began to fall, nose pointing towards the snow covered ground. Red lasers from blaster rifles flew up at him sparking off the thick armor of the craft. All at once torpedoes streamed from the nose of Maniac’s fighter. They impacted the ground with thunderous explosions throwing snow and dirt into the air. He wasn’t giving the Empire the chance to recover anything of worth from his wreck.

"See you soon...Laura, Ione, hold a place for…"

"NO," Ianna screamed as Maniac’s fighter crashed into the ground with a dull thud. She didn’t even notice his last words. Laura, Ione, his wife and daughter, he said he would see them, one day. No one ever asked if they were still alive.

"All wings report in." Striker Lead’s cold voice cut through the air. Ianna couldn't respond not right away. She was still too much in shock. Two fighters failed to check in, Maverick, Goose’s wingman, and Maniac.

"Kid…" Striker Lead continued, "Status?"

What was her status? She’d just watched as her friend fell from the sky, burrowing into the ice and snow. It was then she recalled his words to her.

"Don’t lose that smile."

Even though her heart was breaking she forced a smile on her face. Because that’s all she could do.

"I’m fine…" she said a few more tears falling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sleeve closing the comm channel to sniffle, "All green. Ready to break atmo." Her eyes linger on the crater that used to be a brave pilot of the Rebellion.

"I hope you're at peace big guy." The smile didn’t leave her face.

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels, Bardan_Jusik, BookExogorth, The Admiral, Mostlymad

 

IC: Shirl "Ditch" Coppa, Frenzy (NPC)
Thunder Flight, Hoth Base Approach (West)

"Echo base this Wolf and Waxer in quick change trench cover duty wing, ready to launch." Atin joined the ready report, "Scorch and Ripper, ready to fight," and Shirl echoed in cadence, "Ditch and Frenzy, engines are hot." There didn't seem to be much more to say than that and within moments Thunder lead led the makeshift squadron out of the bay, following after the Rogues as they sped towards the approaching Imperial forces.

"This flak is nasty," Frenzy commented to himself. "Scorch at angels two" the Mandalorian Rebel reported in. Shirl took note of the pair of speeders taking a higher route above the exploding energy. Taking similar action, he pulled back on his stick to bring the speeder to a higher altitude. Insulated from the outside elements from within the cockpit made the snow-covered tundra seem harmless if not beautiful. Blasted probe droids ensured their secret base was compromised. Imperials made it their business to ruin beautiful things, not that Hoth was any less deadly to sentients than an Imperial Walker.

"Thunder flight, FAC." A call came in from the forward air controller. "Infantry in the open just behind the walkers."

"I see them," Shirl reported, "Frenzy, do you have a visual?"

"Affirm, I see the buggars."

"You're cleared for strafing runs on the north/south axis."

"Roger that, Scorch and Ripper rolling in,"

Ditch and Frenzy banked and followed, keeping back just far enough behind Scorch and Ripper to avoid any friendly fire. Their overall position was relatively good, especially compared to Rogue squadrons direct advance. Poor bastards were popping like light bulbs in the early advance and Shirl was pretty sure Montange was bagged in the first run. Can't worry about that now.

"Beginning strafing run, Ditch and Frenzy going in,"

Shirl dipped his nose downward to achieve the best angle and lit up the firing path as he slowly pulled up. His laser canons ripped up the snowy ground and with it, the already scattering snowtroopers. "No where to hide Imps!" he mocked to himself the misfortune of his enemies.
A sudden blast shut him up quickly as he pulled out of the attack position into an evading one, "What was that?!"

"Chicken-walkers!"

Peeking out the starboard side of his canopy he saw the small, awkward-looking light armor vehicle taking pot shots at them.

"It's got weaker armor in the back." Shirl bat-turned his T-47 with heavy Gs pressing on him. He clenched his jaw. Gritting his teeth he continued, "Cover me, I'm going after it."

@TAG: Mitth_Fisto Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Koruga
Main Hangar, Echo Base, Hoth

This operation was a complete cluster, and the fact he was leading the effort did not make that fact easier to swallow. The cooking droid had managed to get some of the nearby binary-lifters to pitch in with moving the cargo, with Koruga managing the ground crew and monitoring the manifesto, but it was slow going. The B-wings were scrap, as far as he was concerned. The upkeep on them was nightmarish ( "Where are we even supposed to find full gyroscopic assemblies IN A DESERTED TUNDRA?" ) and the training it required to become accustomed to the unique style of flying required meant that any pilot shot down was a significantly higher net loss in man-hours. In a word: Inefficient. And inefficiency was something they couldn't afford.

But, they took priority, and that meant moving the lumbering things as quickly as possible. With the droids removing the industrial food preperation equipment, space was slowly freed for the ships, and as the vessels began their ascent into the transport, the Hutt felt a sigh of relief wash over him. The droid was pulling his weight, and at least the human they'd been saddled with was at least out of their way. But, the relief was fleeting as a man, very high ranking by his looks, approached him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"There has to be a way to get me aboard that freighter."

There was, in a very literal sense, no way he could get aboard the freighter. The transport was equipped for material ferrying only; anyone without metallic skin or enough fat to keep warm would freeze to death once they broke atmosphere. Even if he could make room, it would take more time than they had to reconfigure the interior plating.

And, frankly, the Hutt cared far more about getting as many supplies as he could onto the transports than he did getting a single commander on. Life was cheap, but the B-Wings weren't.

<"Get back, meatbag. Do I look like I have time to deal with you?">

Unfortunately, it didn't look like that was the answer he wanted. His hand wavered at his hip, like he was about to pull a blaster. Koruga wasn't afraid of him; he didn't have the guts to fire. Fortunately, he didn't have to put his credits down. Surprisingly swiftly, the food preparation droid was on them, cutting the holster off at the waist and letting it fall to the snow-packed floor. The man looked bemused, his empty as he tried to process what had happened, and why his hand felt no weapon. Koruga merely laughed, a guttural noise the MSE droid didn't need to translate.

<"Excellent blade-work, droid! You could make a somewhat sub-standard guard in a Hutt household."> The praise was genuine, or as genuine as praise from a Hutt could be, and the situation became all the sweeter when he hefted the datapad in both hands and slammed the officer across the head with it, knocking him to the floor and out cold. Was is strictly necessary? No. But it was satisfying, and would serve as a message for any other would-be renegades that tried to impede their work.

<"Someone get this oaf out of my sight. The Imperials will be here soon, and we need to shift it!">

Bardan_Jusik Chyntuck Corellian_Outrider

 

IC: Zara Yaren
Hoth

The two A-wings easily zipped past the shield in the brief moments it dropped, gaining some distance ahead of their group. The report of a Y-wing loss-- Goose-- left her unfazed as Zara tightened up with Killjoy, the two quick starfighters darting along ahead of their slower compatriots even without hitting the A-wing's top speed. The base shield, now back up, signalled the arrival of further enemy forces, TIEs inbound for the slower bombers just beginning their runs. Without a word between the two, Zara and Chira both slowed to match the X-wings' speeds; better to stay with the group than get caught alone against superior numbers.

Her sensors lit up as the two forces approached. What had been a loose cluster of enemies on her screen coalesced into a dozen individual TIEs, all headed their way. Time to reduce that number, and clear the path for the Y-wings.

"Killjoy, three point one," Zara called, voice even as she pointed out the pair of TIEs she'd made her targets. "Split." She kept her shields even, knowing very quickly there'd be damage coming in from all angles, especially if they pulled this off. Not trying for a target lock, not willing to waste heavy weapons on TIEs, she let her concussion missile targeting attempt to pull a solution for the two eyeballs she'd picked out, just to get their attention and keep them coming on.

Chira's comm click preceded the manoeuvre, and Zara banked her starfighter off from a direct line with their targets, while Chira did the same in the opposite direction, letting the X-wings continue in their own formation, one Zara didn't have the time to sort out. Because of their expense and rarity, Imperial pilots weren't always used to facing opposition in the speedy A-wings, especially when they had been inbound for the slow wishbones dumping damage onto the Imperial ground forces. She and her Togruta wingmate were quite happy to take advantage of this oversight, splitting up to give them twice as many quick targets. This left them more exposed than in a regular one-two formation, but they had to take what they could get.

The two TIEs she'd targeted didn't fully take the bait, staying together but following Zara's tight turns closely. Lasers splashed against her rear shields, but she didn't let that worry her just yet. Keeping a close eye on Killjoy's position in the swarm, she brought her ship around in a turn that strained her inertial compensators until they were head to head.

"Picked up another one," Chira announced, and Zara acknowledged. Despite being the fastest ships in the Alliance starfighter fleet, the TIEs could still outstrip them.

Going head to head was dangerous, but Zara wasn't worried; it was a favoured tactic for her and Chira, one they'd used to great success in the past. Keeping her ship's movements erratic, she watched the range to target-- the TIE giving Chira grief-- reduce in time with her rear shields. 73 percent, 1.6 klicks... 68 percent, 1.2 klicks...

She reduced speed suddenly as she and Chira reached weapon range of each other. The two TIEs on Zara's tail kept with her, but suddenly broke off as Chira's A-wing flashed overhead, spitting lasers. An explosion rocked Zara's ship, but she didn't watch the fireworks as she returned fire, catching the back edge of Chira's shields, tracking down until they met with the determined TIE following there. The ship didn't explode, but the cockpit was a melted crater so she counted that as a success. Two down.

The second TIE on Zara's tail had spiraled off and up, with Chira spinning to give chase. Zara quickly plotted an intercept course through the battlefield, buffeted by stray laser fire as she caught up. The TIE was giving them a hard time, breaking locks and dodging fire, as Zara came up on Chira's wing. Even with them both, this pilot was a caliber above those they had just shot down, leading them in a chase towards the planet's upper atmosphere.

Away from the main battle, Zara realised, and quickly hit her comlink. "Let him go, Killjoy." In response, Chira's A-wing picked up speed; blasted Togruta. Either this was a trap or an attempt to take them too far out of the main battle to help the others, and whichever it was, Zara wasn't going to stay to find out. Not when there was still a swarm on her sensors back at the main battlefield.

"I'm heading back," she announced, and split off from Chira's straight-line path, looping back towards the battle and surging forward at the A-wing's top speed. Hopefully the aptly-nicknamed Killjoy would get out of this tunnel vision and realise there was a bigger fight at stake here.

Leaving her wingmate behind, she dove back into the scrum of TIEs and X-wings. As she attempted to remove a TIE firmly on another X-wing's tail, her personal channel with Chira lit up.

"Zero, he's on my tail," the transmission came through, harsh and cutting. "Stang. This kriffing-- Zara, I need you to take him out."

It took only a moment to see that Chira was too far out to reach, having kept on the path directly away from the other Rebel fighters. Ah, Killjoy, you just had to get that kill, didn't you?

"Busy. Can't get there." Zara snapped back as a laser blast from below narrowly missed her wing. "Head back, I'll clean him off." A second round of blasts penetrated her shields, this time from above, leaving smoke and sparks trailing off the nose of her ship. She lost sight of the TIE ahead of her, relying on sensors to keep from hitting another ship on the battlefield. Her readout reported damage to her targeting sensors, but more importantly, she couldn't blasted see. A reroute reduced the smoke, but she couldn't salvage the targeting array mid-battle. It didn't mean she couldn't fire, but her concussion missiles were now a waste in the belly of her A-wing. With limited visibility, Zara moved towards the edge of the loose battlefield to keep from being an obstacle for the others, or a target for further enemies to take advantage of.

"He's through my shields!" Zara had never heard the over-confident Togruta panic like this before, and stayed silent, knowing there was nothing she could do until she was back in range. And even if she were, without a targeting solution she might hit the shield-less A-wing. "Zara, hit this guy!"

Frowning, Zara kept silent, trying to get a targeting solution or squint through the smoke. Her sensors said they were now in range but she couldn't afford to make a mistake. A blue and white ship streaked past, and Zara squeezed the triggers, hoping to catch the TIE on Chira's tail without seeing it.

The dot on her sensors marking Killjoy winked out-- right as the TIE behind her disappeared as well.

The reflection of sunlight on snow was too much for her partially darkened canopy and visor, dazzling her eyes while her seat restraints dug into her shoulders and hips, the hiss and static that accompanied each broadcast loud and painful and unintelligible, that sip of Corellian brandy bright on her tongue, every inch of nerves heightened from the adrenaline that rushed in because--

Had she shot down her wingmate? No, no, that wasn't-- it couldn't be. But Chira's shields were down, but she could have hit both ships, they were so close together--

Zara blinked and took a breath to let the fear curling in her chest dissipate, coming back to herself. Her sensor logs would tell her what happened, but only if she survived this-- without a wingmate and with damaged targeting. Picking up speed, Zara whipped back around to what was left of the TIEs and Rebel starfighters. There was still more damage to do.

TAG: Mostlymad BookExogorth Bardan_Jusik

OOC: I went all-out and took out 3 TIEs and my wingmate, hope that's okay

 

IC: Ethan "Veteran" Malek

Ethan muttered a curse as the imperial fleet appeared before them in the void. Since the clone wars he hadn´t seen that many ships in one place. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the mission. Stay close to the transport, defend it against any major attacks, head to the jump point. He threw a short look at Mustang who held his X-Wing close to the Transport keeping the formation.Ethan was glad that the young man didn´t try to break out of formation to attack the imperials, at least not yet.

When he turned ahead again Ethan shivered for a second as he saw the wreckage of a destroyed transport ship before them. So the imperials had already adapted to the ion canon. For a short moment the Rebel asked himself how many soldiers had been onboard of the transport ship. They were usually manned by a crew of six flight officers and one gunner but how many passengers had been onboard was impossible to say.

"Veteran, we have trouble. Pair of Skiprays." Mustang´s voice came over com and Ethan scolded himself for allowing his thoughts to leave the battle for a moment. He now saw the enemies ahead himself, and the torpedoes one of them had just fired at the Omarian Star.

Reacting fast Ethan managed to fire a salvo at the torpedoes before they hit the ship, hoping to prevent the impact. Though he had no time to ensure himself of that as the other Skipray closed towards him and he had to evade the attack. Pulling his X-Wing to the right he dodged the salvo the Skipray had fire. "R7, can you give me a report on the Omarian Star?" The answer came promptly, Ethan salvo had destroyed one of the torpedoes but the other had managed to hit the Star. Though so far the ship's hull was holding.

The Skipray closed in again and while he dodged Ethan managed to get a short look at Mustang who dueled the second one. Hoping that these two where the only enemies directly at them at the moment Ethan directed additional energy into his X-Wings engines. The Skipray was now behind him what as Ethan knew as the worst position for him to be. So the turned his star fighter even further to the right. Flying a spiral upwards to keep out of his opponents reach.

The next two salvos hit around him but thanks to his quick maneuvers the Skipray wasn´t able to directly hit him. But Ethan knew he couldn´t spent the rest of the battle running from it. He had to turn around and fight. But for that he needed a moment in which the Skipray was distracted, or the imperial fighter would blow him out of the sky.

Then he saw an opportunity as the Omarian Star fired its board weapons at the Skipray that followed him. The Transports guns weren´t build for this type of combat but the gunner seemed to be a talented solider as he managed to hit the Skipray causing it to tremble for a moment.

Taking another deep breath Ethan rammed the controller to the left changing his flight direction from right upwards to left downwards. The pressure of the maneuver hit him even through the flight suit and for a moment the air was pressed out of his lungs. The X-Wing trembled as a few bolts of the Skiprays new salvo hit Fighter. But now as the two ships faces each other Ethan returned the fire.

With the precision he had learned in a lifetime of space combat he fired a precise salvo at the Skipray. The hit wasn´t the best he had ever scored but it was enough to cripple his opponent. Seeing flames burst out of the helpless imperial Ethan turned towards the second and left the finishing shot to the gunner of the Omarian Star. Ethan knew he owed the guy a drink, if they survived this battle.

Tag: Anyone

 

IC: Kayn "Mean Streak" Balzroth , Speed Demon of Devaron, hottest stick in the sector
Echo Base hangar

Kayn drummed his fingers on the X-wing's controls, waiting impatiently for traffic control to get their act together and start clearing ships to launch, hopefully before stormtroopers and AT-ATs blocked the hangar doors. It was a real madhouse in there, techs and crews and passengers sprinting pell-mell as everyone with a gram of sense desperately vied for a seat on an outbound ship. And just to add to the confusion, a couple of humans were herding the taun-tauns out of the base, presumably in an attempt to get the innocent animals clear of the imminent battle zone. Kayn couldn't blame the humans; those taun-tauns were magnificent beasts with their gracefully curled horns and enticingly musky aroma. Too bad no perfumer has bottled that scent. It's positively intoxicating, he thought.

"Roger that, Shady flight," came the eventual reply, "You're clear for launch."

Kayn grinned his happy fang-toothed smile. It was time to plug in. His favorite thing ever! Activating his neural uplinks, he connected his brain to the computers in the Starfiend III.

Even with only the X-wing's passive sensors set to lowest gain, the sensory feedback to his mind was a blinding cacophony. He had learned long ago that trying to read the input from a ship's sensors while it was parked in a hangar would lead to a crippling migraine in less than a minute. Everything would be copasetic as soon as he got into open airspace.

"Control, Shady, flight of three, departing on flight plan as filed."

He lifted the fighter off the hangar floor, turned, and accelerated smoothly out of the icy cavern, controlling the ship with nothing but his thoughts. The maneuver was no more difficult than standing up from a chair and walking out of a room. Spacers talk about gifted pilots who don't really sit in their ships, but wear them like a suit of clothes, or a second skin. Kayn took that to a higher level; he didn't just wear a ship, he was the ship.

As he moved into open air, the sensory feedback in his mind cleared. He could see everything without even using his eyes. Snowspeeders tore across the frigid terrain, trading heavy blaster fire with Imp walkers, and a mixed flight of Y, X, and A-wings headed for the LZ. Holy pudu, those little A-wings can move! I need to trade up from this X as soon as I can make a chance to do it. Not today, though, today I'm stuck babysitting the fat boy back there while everyone else gets to go mix it up with the TIEs. There's no justice.

He put aside his jealousy and took a moment to enjoy the sensation of flight, swooping up through the atmosphere with the icy slipstream caressing his alloy hull, feeling the lift from his wings and the thrust from his engines like a strong sprinter reaching his best pace. Glorious.

The planetary shield loomed before them, glowing like a luminous wall to his sensors. Pity I'm not synched up to the shield controls. I bet I could get us through it with a tenth of the opening that the pure organic brains are going to give us. The shield flickered ahead of Shady Flight, then reformed behind them.

Atmosphere fell away behind him, and the serene blackness of space enfolded him. Kayn never could decide if he liked flying in atmosphere or space better. Much as he loved the rush of air and the lift of wings, there was always a sense of awe at the infinite blackness and scattered starlight of deep space. Magnificent. Spectacular.

Also, getting crowded. His brain was reading Imp active sensor signals, displayed in hostile red concentric patterns in his mind's eye. Comparing the pattern to his cybernetic database, he identified the probing sensor as a T-s7b targeting system, standard equipment on the TIE bomber.

"Mean Streak, Paladin. Incoming Eyeballs at our three. Looks like they have a pair of Dupes trailing."

"I copy, Paladin. You keep the fighters busy for a few seconds, I want to try something new on the bombers."

Kayn thought his S-foils into attack position. Doing that felt a lot like drawing a pair of knives and moving into a fighting stance. Bring it, you Impish unspeakables. Today you're going to find out what it means to do battle with a Devaronian warrior. Tomorrow, you're going to find out nothing. Nothing at all.


"Those bombers have torpedo lock on us!"

"Stay calm, Herkybird, I've got your back. Make sure your sensors are recording this; it's going to be spectacular."

Paladin broke right and launched one of his precious torpedoes at the lead TIE fighter, hoping to keep it occupied while he traded energy beams with the wingman.

Meanwhile, Kayn was analyzing signal traffic between the bombers. Staccato bursts of radio frequency energy were obviously voice transmissions, encrypted, but he lacked the slicer skills to break the code, not to mention the time, even for his cyber-enhanced thought processes. Other transmissions between the bombers operated at a much higher frequency, definitely the sign of computers synchronizing. Clearly, the bombers were coordinating their targeting systems for a combined simultaneous torpedo salvo that would pulverize the Hercules with one burst.

Kayn mentally reset his quad lasers, switching from standard heavy burst mode to maximum cyclic rate of fire, and dialed back the power level so he could sustain the firing rate without burning out his weapons. Each shot would be much weaker, but when he fired he'd fill the space in front of him with a blizzard of blaster bolts.

The Imp computers were communicating at a fever pitch. Time to line up the shot. He banked smoothly to his right and aimed at the space just ahead of the bombers. Their targeting computers transmitted a steady flatline tone; that had to be their launch signal. Kayn's electronic reflexes opened fire instantly.

The torpedo barrage had barely cleared the launch tubes in the bombers when the X-wing's hail of fire tore through the salvo, scoring direct hits on three torpedoes. Two of them detonated, and the rest quickly followed suit as they were caught in the blast radius. The fireball was enormous. Two TIE bombers added to my tally!

The explosion dissipated quickly, and to Kayn's surprise both TIE bombers flew out of the flames. Their forward surfaces were battered and blackened, and their sensor signals were weak and erratic, but both were still flying and under control.

"I got one, I got one!" called Paladin as one of the TIE fighters blew apart under his laser fire.

Frackin' pudu frack!!! thought Kayn. Frackin' bombers don't even have shields, how did they survive that?!

 

IC: Jocelyn “Joy" Sunwalker
Battle of Hoth

The Y-wings descended to the necessary altitude. The squadron had sustained a casualty before even engaging the enemy. Surely more will follow, that is the inexorable logic of combat so Jocelyn buried her own thoughts and feelings about it. All she felt was grim determination, emotions clouded one’s judgement, so she turned even colder and businesslike than her usual self. That was her “battle demeanour” as she called it.

The huge metal camels that were the AT-ATs could be seen, at least some of them as they were approaching the target from the side. This would prevent the lumbering beasts to maneuver and try to shoot them down as they made their attack run. These were not the flimsy walkers that they had on Lothal that could be destroyed pretty easily. These were the heavily armored versions. Joy was not sure what Rogue Squadron was trying to achieve or prove by attacking with the nimble airspeeders. She hoped that the Y-wings were up to the task and at least to be able to destroy some of them.

“Shields to double front.” she commanded the element and got three clicks as acknowledgement.

The AT-ATs were getting bigger as the Y-wings got closer. Joy could discern the nimbler figures of the AT-STs moving into position. They had been detected. Streams of crimson streaks flew in their directions as the Scout walkers opened fire. Usually it was an exercise in futility trying to shoot down a fast moving craft, but they had an advantage in numbers so they filled the sky with blasterfire. It would take one to get lucky.

Joy switched on her targeting computer and started transmitting orders who to attack what. All four were to shoot a couple of torpedoes at the AT-ATs, hopefully they will be able to bring down some of them. Then they were to open fire at the Scouts as their armours were lighter so the canons should be enough. Then they were to make a flyby and release the proton bombs on the stormies.

Her targeting computer chirped that the Walkers were in range and it was locking on the designated target. It was scanning for the weak spots, unlike the ones on Lothal and the AT-ACTs these had fewer structural weaknesses.

Her craft started shaking as the Scouts were able to get their bearings and their fire got too close for comfort. Her astromech indicated that the torpedoes were primed and ready. The other pilots sent their confirmations as well, so she said that they could fire at will.

When she got a lock on the target she pressed the trigger. The bomber shook as the first torpedo flew, then the second one. Joy followed the trail of smoke as the two projectiles were racing towards their targets. There were other plumes of smoke as the remaining Y-wings followed her example.

One of her torpedoes struck the “neck", one of its soft spots. It caused a fireball to erupt beheading the beast. The second one struck the side door. The force of the blast pushed the decapitated walker to the side and it lost its balance so the body tumbled crushing some of the troopers who were stupid or just slow enough not to move away.

Hunter’s missiles struck the main body and the knee respectively causing another crash. Striker 6 was not so lucky, he had struck a heavily armored section so the damage was minimal. Striker 7 downed another walker.

Now they could go hunting for chickens. Though it would be a short one given that they were fast approaching the enemy soldiers. There were some tentative attempts to shoot them with small arms fire and even an unguided missile from a portative launcher. It was futile but even a stormie could get lucky and hit something vital. Joy targeted a Scout and pressed the trigger. The scarlet blasts pierced the lighter armour causing the cabin to blow up. There were some more fireballs.

Now the time for the proton bombs came. It was tricky without a gunner, but she had done it before. At least the astromechs will assist. They were over the troopers and the ammo and fuel depot, even some communication equipments. The proton bombs flew and caused fireballs sending plumes of snow and dirt. The shockwaves shook the Y-wing, but nothing too serious. At least some of the targets were destroyed. Unfortunately the sensors could not tell how many troopers had been killed. At least they hurt them…

They started their ascend, Hunter was leading, it was then when a crimson blast pierced underneath the cockpit. There was no scream, nothing, there was not enough time for that. The craft started losing altitude and only the black smoke billowing from where it was hit remained. The on-board cameras showed that Hunter’s craft crashed into an AT-ST blowing up both. At least he took one more with him… He will be mourned later, they had to survive so that his memory will stay as they were the sole witnesses of how his life ended.

Time to rejoin the squadron.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik, galactic-vagabond422

 

IC: Max Pallas
In an X-wing above Hoth

Where in the Seven Hells are they all coming from?

Maxime Pallas opened throttle a bit more. She could hear Mazoris Bluesh, her wingman, on her commlink.

“Accelerate to attack speed and lock S-foils in attack position. Let’s keep those fighters off that transport!” he said. She clicked the comm once in response, she’d already been in the middle of doing that. The Bandits had flown together for a long time; she knew what he would do and how she should respond.

Princess Leia had made it sound so easy. Don’t worry about the Star Destroyers. The ion cannon will take care of them. Of course she hadn’t said one ruddy word about the TIE fighters. And these…TIE interceptors! Regular TIE fighters had flaws that could be exploited. Interceptors had been designed specifically to take on X-wings. Fast, maneuverable, and assigned to the best Imperial pilots going. Here were four of them, coming towards the lumbering No Deal. The rest of the squadron were hovering near the wounded Star Destroyer, which the transponder identified as the Tyrant. Max could only pray they'd stay put.

“That’s a lot of squints, Blue.” Max looked at the lumbering Mobquet transport which they were trying to escort to safety. The New Deal was not built for speed, and while some additional armor plating had been crudely tacked on to the hull, it wouldn’t be enough to protect the ship from the barrage those TIEs could unleash. She looked at her datascreen. “Digger, have we got the hyperspace coordinates locked in?” Her astromech chirped an affirmative. The little droid had been working up short hyperspace jumps almost from the moment they’d launched.

““The more there are, the more we can blow up! Go-go-go!” shouted Blue. He turned his X-wing towards the approaching Interceptors, juking and firing random bursts to disperse them. Max muttered under her breath. Anyone who said Corellians were reckless had clearly never flown with a Duros.

She throttled up to attack speed, drifting out to the left then bringing her nose up sharply to climb, hoping to come in from above, where the Interceptors offered a larger target. The approaching ships split into two pairs, with two coming up towards her and the others towards the New Deal. Blue was going straight at the latter.

“Shavit, shavit!” She pulled back on the stick, finishing the tightest, fastest loop she’d ever attempted, into a quick, wide roll, firing as she went. One fighter hadn’t anticipated the move and shot past her, taking a hit to one of its right solar panels. The other broke left and down, bringing the pilot was just above her and to her right, looping, trying to come back towards her and drop in on her tail. The damaged ship was sparking, with the right side panel hanging at an odd angle. It couldn’t maneuver and the New Deal was past it, so that was okay. “Talk to me, Blue!”

“Vaped one! I’m smoking today, Spooky!”

“Great.” She looked at her scanners. She could hear the chatter of the other Rebel pilots over her comm, as they tried to protect their own transports. A warning whistle from Digger. She took another look at her scanners. Another three Interceptors were detaching from the wounded Tyrant to head in their direction. “Getting more company, Blue.”

The ship in front of her was rolling and weaving, and it was impossible for her to get a lock on it. Abruptly it rolled to the right, cutting throttle as she approached, and fell in behind her as she shot past it.

“You slimy—“ It was a good trick, and one she planned to try herself sometime, if she lived that long. A spray of vivid green energy blasts went over her left shoulder. “Could use some help here, Blue.”

“Vape two! And I’ve got this one!” Max juked left and right, while trying to locate her wingman. He was barreling towards a different target, not the one flying up her butt.

“Damn it, Maz!” She rolled sharply left and cut her throttle to nothing. Her pursuer shot past her, and she turned to follow him, shooting as she went. That is one sweet trick! Definitely gonna remember it. The squint was bobbing left and right as it had before, she still couldn’t get a lock on him. Digger whistled a warning, cutting through her focus, and she turned to see the incoming TIE Interceptors, firing on the New Deal.

“SHAVITSHAVITSHAVIT!” She broke off pursuit of her target, and looped her nose towards New Deal. It didn’t have much in the way of armaments, but the crew were doing what they could. They got one of the Interceptors, but green blasts were flickering over the freighter’s shields. Max pushed her snubfighter to its top speed, looping high so she could come down in an intercept. “Blue! Need some help here! NOW!”

 

IC: Akiva Lurell AKA 'Wolf'
Thunder Flight, Battle of Hoth

The ready report continued on after her, "Scorch and Ripper, ready to fight," and Shirl echoed in cadence, "Ditch and Frenzy, engines are hot." It didn't take long until the clearance came, and the makeshift squadron was out of the bay, following after the Rogues as they sped towards the approaching Imperial forces with homicidal intensity. Poor idiots went in guns blazing like an outer rim holo-villa where it was to be a showdown at the Eopie Corral. She really hated being in a speeder at that thought, but there was nothing to it. Just buy the time so the Rebellion could save the B-wings, that was all she had to do. Save the B-wings.

"Scorch at angels two" the Mandalorian Rebel reported in. Wolf noted the approach vector of her fellow speeders and grinned in appreciation as she climbed as well. Although what an Angel had to with height she did not know. Or care, really it was just more gibberish, so long as she could figure out what they meant she really didn't mind.


"Thunder flight, FAC." A call came in from the forward air controller. "Infantry in the open just behind the walkers."
"Alright, you heard the man. Lets scoop these dirt scrubbers off." she added as she took position to wait for the other two flights to go first. Her wingman chimmed back on their private channel, "Just think of it like your favorite ice-cream. Won't be any left in minutes." As the chuckling laugh echoed on her comms she growled back a short bark, "It was one time! You know how reminders of home foods goes!"

"You're cleared for strafing runs on the north/south axis."

"Roger that, Scorch and Ripper rolling in,"
"Yeah, quickly!" The laughter echoed as they dipped down and she took note of the chicken walkers shooting at the other air speeders, which meant they were out of position to shoot at them until they passed by. . ."How you could eat that stuff on Hoth though! I mean it is already so cold."

"Beginning strafing run, Ditch and Frenzy going in,"

"Alright, some things are good enough they're worth the pain and sacrifice. Now let's at least take a couple nuggets out." She intoned as they dived down after watching half of 'Ditch and Frenzy' getting through their run. It was a time honored method of knowing the enemy, throw others at them and see what pops out before beginning your own run, and if she had her B-wing she would be doing a lot more than just hoping to take out a couple of nuggets. One of the chicken walkers had it's back to them at the moment which she aimed her shots for, the first few blowing chunks of snow up into the air but the last two before she veered up in a bounce hit true. She was going too fast to tell whether the red ball she saw was just the glare from her shot or the Nugget going up in flames. Didn't really matter when you wanted to paint a Star Destroyer on your B-wing, but it still was nice to have a good tally. Supposedly that was the only way she could make sure to stay where she wanted to be she reckoned.

Her next bounce saw her shots hitting another nugget and a couple white ground pounders before she had finished the run. That second nugget though seemed to have weathered the shots to the side with little damage beyond possibly removing whatever was mounted on that side. As for the few storm trooper she hit, she didn't and couldn't really count them. That was going to be for whomever the Alliance got to collate her sensor logs after she spaced out of this rock.

Waxer seemed to be pretty pleased with their first run, "You empty the bowl and I will make it shine! Lets polish these thugs off!"

"Here I would just be happy with an opening to evac." she curtly replied.

"Yeah, yeah. You and your ships. Someday you might care about the cause."

"Maybe, but today just my life and my ships will be enough." she glibly replied back.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik, The Vanguard

 

IC: Nikoloz “SQ” Dimmall
Battle of Hoth - Planetside: Striker Flight

Hoth’s crisp cold air filled the cockpit of Nik’s X-Wing as he flipped switches to cycle the environmental controls. Wistfully and as joyously as a child he grinned as he and his flight soared across the snowy planet. Boy do I love being a pilot! The thought stuck with him they approached the shield which shimmered as Striker flight burst through its border at Angels 10.

Nik grimaced as Goose’s Y-Wing vanished from his screen and it put a damper on his spirits. Reality set in as he realized what was about to happen. This is really happening isn’t it... my first engagement and it may very well be my last. He’d been around enough to know that the probability of surviving any engagement for rookie pilots with no combat experience was low. It took a few missions before a pilot had enough real world experience to be comfortable and maintain situational awareness in the chaos of battle. Knowing this, Nik took a few moments to steady his breathing and steel his resolve.

As he tried to relax he watched as the A-Wings raced ahead and he could only shake his head at the overeager pilots. Breaking protocol already... they are going to get themselves killed. Following textbook maneuvering SQ maintained a loose position below and off to the left of Grinder’s X-Wing and kept pace as his lead’s engines flared as she increased the throttle.

“SQ, Grinder, climb to Angels 20 and lock s-foils into attack position.” Least Kirana is all business when up in the air. Flipping a switch for the s-foils and pulling back on the stick the pair of X-Wings took a covering position between the Y-Wings and the most likely position for an attack... above them. The Imperial Navy didn’t disappoint as a dozen TIE fighters quickly descended upon their flight.

“Grinder engaged offensive! Tally dozen, right 3, one mile, high, closing!” Kirana called quickly letting everyone know she was engaging on the offensive against a dozen enemies to her right at 3 o’clock, one mile out above Angels 30 and closing fast on their position.

Immediately Nik jumped onto the airway, “SQ, tally, visual, press!” With three words he let his lead know that he had the enemy in sight, that he could see her, her six was clear, that he was supporting her, and she was clear to engage.

Adrenaline coursed through his body as the TIEs descended upon them. "Killjoy, three point one," Zero called announcing their targets which Max marked with A’s on Nik’s HUD as the leading A-Wing pilots engaged. With a shake of his head he watched with one eye on the scope as the ‘zoomie’ pilots split the formation in an attempt to break up the TIEs. It was a dangerous strategy and wasn’t something he approved of but it had worked as three of the TIEs broke formation to chase the A-Wings. Turning his attention to the remaining fighters Nikoloz squeezed the trigger as a TIE became locked within his targeting computer. Red laser fire erupted from both X-Wings into the enemy above. Before he could confirm any kills he yelled into the radio, “Grinder break right!” Both X-Wings rolled hard to the right as green laser fire tore past where they had once been. An explosion ahead was the only confirmation that they had gotten at least one kill.

The remaining TIEs zipped past the X-Wings down towards the Y-Wings. Immediately both X-Wings inverted, closed their s-foils for maximum speed, and used gravity to assist their turn back to the surface. With his left hand Nik pushed the throttle forward for maximum thrust. Zipping after their prey the rebels knew that the TIEs topped out around 200 klicks faster than the X-Wings. He hoped that Ring and Spitfire had taken a more direct path to protect the Y-Wings but in the furball he’d lost track of their X-Wing and A-Wing counterparts.

Switching his targeting system to torpedoes Nikoloz had Max paint the leading TIEs and hoped they’d break off their pursuit with the threat of being blown to bits. If they didn’t he’d be forced to protect his charge and release the torpedos.

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels, galactic-vagabond422, BookExogorth, The Admiral, Bardan_Jusik

 

GM Update: Part I​

​

IC: Beskaryc Taab
Northern edge of the battle area, Hoth

From their current position, the now occupied sniper's nest, the main objective of saber squad, an outlying rebel bunker, was only a few hundred meters distant. "That's a lot of open ground to cover boss," Taab second in command a low ranking NCO by the name of Lav opined. Taab didn't bother looking to him as he continued to examine the terrain. It was a lot of open ground to cover, and though Taab couldn't see anyone looking out of firing slits towards his squad, all it would take was one to raise an alarm and the Imperial commandos would be cut down like wheat in a field.

"Don't worry, I can take the bunker myself," the Mandalorian finally responded. "But I'll need help holding it." Lav looked unconvinced, but nodded his head anyway. "All right, you're the boss, boss." Taab shrugged his shoulders, stretching them, he really was getting too old for this osik, before looking to the bunker one last time.

It was on the far northern edge of the battle area, backing up some of the last trenches to be found there, and overlooking the draw the Imperial walkers were having to march through. What a waste Taab thought, the Imperial should have sent a small team in to take out the shield generator, then used precision bombing from TIE bombers to soften the place up. This old style hey diddle diddle style attack had gone out of style in Mandalorian circles centuries ago. It seemed Imperial tactics hadn't evolved since then though. He smiled a grim smile, the attack did give him the perfect distraction for his own mission though.

Taab's position in the sniper's nest was actually even farther north, essentially with the bunker between him and the front lines of the battlefield. Everyone in the bunker was looking in the wrong direction as Taab moved out, up the hill farther and moved east of his men. Just in case someone was watching, he didn't want to pinpoint their position when he lit off. Satisfied after a few moments sprint up the hill that he was far enough from them he ignited his jetpack and took to the sky, above the plane of the battlefield, but below (hopefully) the altitude the various speeders were operating at. Luckily for him, those too were well forward of where he was at, vainly engaging the Imperial Walkers from what he could see. Maybe the brute strength tactics of the Empire worked after all he thought as he landed softly on top of the bunker. Immediately he dropped to his belly in a prone position. There would be eyes on the bunker, of that he was certain.

Laying his blaster carbine off to one side Taab considered his options carefully, and quickly. He wasn't sure he was going to make it this far on the fly, and had planned on fighting his way to the bunker. This was much better, and he appreciated the amount of luck it took to have arrived so quickly, and unseen. Shab, half of battle was luck, and luck was the result of proper planning and preparation. Taking a deep breath he also off the bag of concussion grenades he had attached across his chest. He considered briefly throwing one or two, or a half dozen in through the firing slit of the bunker, but rejected the idea. The cacophony of battle, and the continued thumping of some heavy blaster from inside the bunker, had allowed for him to arrive atop the position undetected by those inside. Throwing in grenades would alert them to his presence, and those grenades would likely be ineffective. This was a well prepared position, with access to the remainder of the base complex from the looks of it. There was sure to be a grenade sump to thwart just such an attack, so the grenades were flat out. So too was sticking his blaster in through the slit and firing blindly. He was apt to miss at least some of the defenders, and again, they would be alerted to his presence. Instead he primed his flame projector and rolling to one side stuck his arm into the firing slit which faced away from the battle area and let loose with a short burst of flame before rolling away.

Flames bust forth from the opposite firing slits and Taab could hear the screams from inside bunker echo out into the cold dry air. He shut them out as he rolled over and repeated the same process again with the same result and then again a third time. The third time there were no screams. Grabbing his carbine and the bag of grenades Taab rolled completely off the bunker's roof and entered through the small door. Everything inside, including the defenders, had been burned to a crisp. Though without much flammable inside the smoldering fires would die down quickly.

Taab signaled the squad to move ahead as he looked down the long corridor at the end of the bunker and waited for Rebel reinforcements to arrive.

TAG: no one

OOC: Taab's actions atop the bunker adapted from a scene in Larry Bond's novel Red Phoenix

---

IC: Atin Taab
Thunder flight, battle of Hoth

"It's got weaker armor in the back." Ditch's T-47 pulled around in a high G turn, getting into position behind an AT-ST. "Cover me, I'm going after it." Frenzy matched the maneuver sliding in behind and above Ditch's craft just as his wingman lowered his nose slightly and fired a string of heavy blaster bolts into the rear section of the scout walker. Bolts rained down around the walker, with more than a few hitting the back of the armored head. An explosion there consumed it, leaving just the pair of standing legs and showering the snowtroopers around it with shrapnel.

"Woohooo, you did it!" Frenzy exclaimed as a few of those surviving snowtroopers had the gumption to fire at Ditch's snowspeeder. They all missed wildly, hitting a craft going that speed was rather difficult for trooper on the ground but Frenzy didn;t like that they had tried, so he pushed over the nose of his own speeder and gave a small group a squirt of blaster fire in return. he swooped over them before he could tell if he had hit any of them though.

Pulling back onto his wingman's wing he noted they were now directly out over the front lines of the battle, attacking the chicken walker from behind meant that eventually they had to be out in front. "Ummm." He started over the comm system, about to tell Ditch that they were somewhere they shouldn't be when a heavy canon shot from an AT-AT shook starboard wing of his craft. caution and warning lights lit up his console like a Life Day tree and then the snowspeeder was hit again and again. The craft exploded in midair, taking Frenzy with it.

There was little time for mourning among the other members of Thunder flight as a voice suddenly screamed out over the guard frequency. "Luke!" Every craft in the area was be monitoring that freq in addition to their own squadron frequencies. It was followed up by a more professional sounding. "Rogue Leader is down, I repeat, Rogue Leader is down."

Skywalker, Atin thought to himself. The loss of the capable, but in the Mandalorioan's mind, inexperienced pilot would be a shock to the moral of everyone in the Alliance. Off to Thunder Flight's right he could see a downed speeder that must be his, it was smoking but looked fairly intact, though that wouldn't last long. there was a walker headed right for it. Worse still was the group of snowtroopers fanned out in front of the walker. They would get there first.

"Thunder flight, FAC." The Forward Air Controller commed the group. "Provide cover for Commander Skywalker's downed speeder, assess his situation and report." Atin hadn't seen any movement from the craft, but if there was a chance Skywalker was alive down there, they had to take the chance and protect him for as long as they could. Of course there was little they could do against the approaching AT-AT, but they could keep the snowtroopers at bay. Atin commed the others a warning. "Thunder Flight, Scorch, watch out for that AT-ATs guns! I'm rolling..." Another transmission
came in.

"Scorch, FAC. The north bunker is under attack and needs support." Atin pulled up and away from the battlefield, followed by a string of red bolts that missed him wide to his port side. Looking at the bunker he could see it smoking. Down the hill it was built into, from even farther north, was a group of troopers racing down towards it.

"Roger FAC, Scorch copies." Atin called out before making sure his wingman was on him close and pushing forward the throttle. "Thunder Flight, stay on mission." Came the call from Thunder Lead as she led the majority of the speeders towards Commander Skywalker's crash site.

TAG: Mitth_Fisto, The Vanguard

OOC: Mitthy and Vanguard; Skywalker's snowspeeder is just as we see it crashed in the movie, smoking but before he is moving inside. Snowtroopers are approaching (assume roughly 40 of them) while the AT-AT behind them is also fast approaching (yeah, that's the AT-AT that will crush the snowspeeder eventually). Troopers are fair game, but for obvious reasons the AT-AT has some pretty thick plot armor. Don't worry about the troops attacking the bunker, that's Atins to deal with. Any questions, well you know where to find me.

---

IC: Commander Craven (NPC)
Main Hanger, Echo Base, Hoth

Craven looked up, his face contorted in fright as the hanger shook again, and then again harder this time, as high energy bolts from the approaching AT-AT walkers struck the mountainside the base had been built into.

<"Get back, meatbag. Do I look like I have time to deal with you?">

Craven looked incredulously at the mouse droid that was obviously translating what the Hutt was saying. How dare he? It! He thought now of the disgusting slug. He only got angrier as he realized that slug and its droid were probably on a list for evacuation while he a commander would be left behind. His hand moved closer to his holstered blaster, ready to draw it and blast the Hutt and its little droid.

At that moment though he felt a slight tug at his gunbelt, followed by the feeling of the belt sliding quickly and unceremoniously down of his body. He grasped for it, but missed as it fell into the icy ground at his feet. "What? How? Who? He started sputtering incoherently as the questions formed in his mind but couldn't be properly vocalized. Turning swiftly he saw the shape of a mess droid looking at him coldly, quizzically as he heard the sound of the Hutt laughing its guttural laugh. It was laughing at him.

<"Excellent blade-work, droid! You could make a somewhat sub-standard guard in a Hutt household."> It was the droid that had cut his gunbelt! he would have the thing melted down for this!

<"Someone get this oaf out of my sight. The Imperials will be here soon, and we need to shift it!">

The Imperials. Yes of course, the Imperials were coming. Another shake of the hanger bay reminded everyone that hadn't heard the Hutt's droid of that. The hanger shook again, and again, more forcefully this time as bits of snow and ice began falling from the ceiling and dusting the transports where they were berthed. Looking up Craven could see a series of cracks forming in there in the icy ceiling, just as another round of bolts hit the base causing even more tremors. Craven began blubbering again incoherently as he pointed upwards just as a large chunk of frozen snow broke free and fell right on top of him.

TAG: Outsourced, Chyntuck, Corellian_Outrider


OOC: Snow falls everybody dies right? Your call on how to handle Craven's unfortunate predicament.

---

IC: Striker Lead
Battle of Hoth

Striker Lead did her best to stay focused on the mission even as her pilots began dropping like flies. They'd done significant damage to the Imperial landing zone on their initial pass, but coming around again would be suicidal, especially with the air space still contended by numerous TIE fighters. They'd done all they could she determined as she pulled her wishbone up into the sky. At least the zoomies and the X-Wings had taken a chunk of them down, but at a heavy cost themselves. More importantly though they had disrupted the TIE's formation and so per the plan as Striker flight pulled up off the LZ their ascent towards space went largely unopposed as the fighters kept the remaining TIE fighters busy.

Reaching space though Striker Lead saw her group of Y-Wings had bigger problems. A trio of Arquitens class light cruisers were blocking their path. They must have been the source of the TIE fighters still battling the Rebel fighters down below, though that fight seemed to be slowly making its way towards the reaches of space as well.

"Striker Lead to Striker flight," she called out to the remaining Y-Wings. "Anyone have any torps left? We need to blow these sith-spawn out of the way."

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

---

OOC: Fighters are still in atmosphere but the fight is beginning to drag its way upwards into space as the TIEs try to get to the bombers. Striker flight itself, you have your own obvious problem in front of you. Fighters are still fair game (for the bombers too if you want to engage any on the way up), but hold any damage done to the cruisers for me to handle (you may of course still attack them).

On a more melancholy note, BookExogorth has informed me via PM that she wont be able to continue on with us due to time constraints. We'll be carrying her character forward with us as an NPC and then dropping that character from the game once the Battle for Hoth has concluded. Sorry to see you go Exogorth, but I understand. Thanks for the PM.

 

GM Update: Part II​

IC: Paladin (NPC)
Shady Flight, Battle of Hoth

The two TIE bombers staggered, trailing smoke and sparks after the close in detonation of their own torpedoes. Their targeting senors were dead, and each had internal structural damage that would further affect their maneuverability. They would probably be declared total losses once they returned to the ship, if they returned to their ship, but right now the pilots of the pair of TIE Bombers were just trying to survive the next few minutes as they limped away from the battlefield.

Paladin was having none of that though. He had gotten one TIE fighter already, and though the pair of bombers were a mission kill, Paladin's fangs were out. He wanted to add a pair of dupes to his already impressive kill list, mission kills didn't count for that. Pouring on the speed he didn't worry when his craft shuddered slightly as the remaining TIE fighter swerved back onto his tail and managed to land a couple of bolts.

"Mean Streak, you mind cleaning him off of me?" He asked matter of factly lining up a shot on the trailing bomber. He was fixated on the target though and had lost his situational awareness. So focused was he on getting these two kills that he hadn't noticed another quartet of TIEs, all bombers this time, which were streaking for the Hercules. They weren't in range yet, but they would be soon, and if Mean Streak moved to cover Paladin's X-Wing, he would be leaving the transport all alone.

TAG: Sarge.

---

IC: Blue (NPC)
Bandit five, Battle of Hoth

“SHAVITSHAVITSHAVIT!” Blue laughed to himself as the expletives flowed from his wingman. “Blue! Need some help here! NOW!” Slightly above the fray and in prusuit of a TIE Interceptor the Duros looked over his right shoulder and saw what the trouble was. "On my way," he called out over the comm system, giving up his pursuit of the squint with one last flurry of bolts chasing after it before rolling down onto the squints pouring fire into the freighter. "You need to have some fu..." he continued on as he lined up one the of TIEs, before his own craft shook suddenly as if held in the jaws of a rabid nek. The fighter he had let go had pulled back around on him and was now after him!

The Duros pulled off of his target and into the opposing fighter, but it matched his maneuver still firing on him as it eventually overshot and screeched overhead. it was behind him now, but turning back to get on his tail. Meanwhile his aft sheilds were near failure and his forward shields weren't in much better shape.

"I uhhh." he was chagrined to say this over the tactical frequency, but he had no choice. "I could use a little help here."

TAG: Mistress_Renata

---

IC: Captain Don Karnage (NPC)
Bridge of the Iron Vulture (Marauder class corvette), Anoat system

The Shistavanen pirate lord in the ostentatious blue captain's uniform brushed at his luxurious reddish brown fur as he sat quietly, but impatiently, in the captain's chair on the bridge of the Iron Vulture. They had just barely escaped from his last scheme, another attempted raid on the rich Corellian shipyards that had panned out as many, most, OK all of the others had, with abject defeat for the Dread Pirate Karnage and his minions. Now they were out here, hiding from Coreillian Security forces and the Empire alike as they licked their wounds and repaired the damage to their vessel and fighters. Karnage had hoped to obtain a supply of Tibanna gas out on Cloud City, but the Baron Administrator there, a man who had almost as much panache as Karnage himself, wouldn't budge on Karnage's proposed price of free. Now they were hoping to get enough fighters up and running to raid the next convoy coming out of Bespin and get the fuel they needed that way.

Fighters. That was the problem. Out of the dozen fighters docked aboard the Iron Vulture, only four, four, were available for combat. They would need at least double theta if they were going to even attempt the planned upcoming raid. If only he wasn't surrounded by imbeciles he could make do with less!

"Captain!" The sensor officer, a Rodian, suddenly cried out. "Oh what is it now?" Karnage replied in an agitated voice. "Two ships just came out of hyperspace, an X-Wing and..." An X-Wing? Karnage's mind was already racing, had CorSec found them somehow all the way out here? "...and a Gallofrean transport." Karnage blinked, his tongue hanging slightly outside his fanged jaws as he drooled slightly. A transport, escorted by a single X-Wing? The cargo must be valuable, else why waste an escort on it at all? But the escort was weak, just a single fighter. "Launch available fighters to destroy that X-Wing and lay in a pursuit course after the transport!" He shouted as he moved to the communications console. he noted the quartet of Preybird fighters which had launched out of the hanger bay and were already headed for the lone escort fighter as he sent a message to it and the transport.

"I, Don Karnage, the The Prince of Pirates, will now accept your surrender."

TAG: Adalia-Durron

OOC: Don Karnage and associates obviously adapted from Disney's TailSpin cartoon. Fighters are yours to deal with (you may damage/destroy them at will), though leave any damage to the Iron Vulture you may incur to me. This may or may not be a recurring villain.

---

IC: Mustang (NPC)
Rider Flight, Battle of Hoth

The Skiprays facing off against the X-Wings had better firepower and shielding, but lacked the maneuverability to keep up with the nimble snub fighters which harassed them after their initial salvo on the Omarian Star had been warded off. Even now the first of the pair had been badly damaged by the fighter flown by the pilot called veteran, while the second was being hotly pursued by Mustang who peppered the large gunboat with laser fire to it's aft quarter. "Yeee ha!" he screamed out over the comms as several more blaster bolts struck home, the craft tried to veer hard to port and maniac pushed his control stick over to follow...but nothing happened. "What's going..." the pilot started but didn't finish as a new problem cropped up. His X-Wing was losing speed.

"Power flow interruption." the words scrolled across his MFD (multi-function display) sent to him by the droid in the socket just behind him. "A mechanical problem?" he shouted as the droid responded in the affirmative. The power converters had failed at the worst possible time, now his X-Wing was crippled as the power to the weapons and propulsion systems was drained. Worse still, the Skipray he had been pursuing was now coming back around on him, all guns blazing!

"Veteran, this is Mustang, I could use some help over here!"

TAG: Anedon

 

~IC~ Captain Cassell Wystari
Location: Hoth - Echo Base Hangar

‘Best not to put all the eggs in the one basket...’

Wystari had moved over to the next Gallofree transport down the line upon seeing that the Hutt and droid were focused on the first one. He sought about organising some help and enlisted the assistance from one of the Deck officers for the Roaming Vagabond about shifting things about with their cargo modules and allocating space for some of the B-Wing fighters.

“I don’t know, Skipper… that would take some time and we haven’t got much of that before the Empire is upon us.” Lieutenant Cadin scratched her brow, just under the cap, as she regarded the Gallofree. “We want to get ourselves out of here lickety split.”

“Understandable.” Wystari followed her gaze and sized up the vessel too. “However orders were relayed from Commander Rey to get the fighters out of here. They are too valuable to be left behind for the Empire.”

There was the look of conflict on the Lieutenant’s face as she looked to him and then back to the ship.

“I am here to assist with the process.” Wystari assured her. “Where is the manifest? The sooner we do, the sooner we leave”

She puffed out her cheeks and then let out a sigh. “Alright, Skipper.”

They worked together using the datapad. It showed the schematics and manifest list and with discussion and collaborating, they worked out a way to make some of that happen utilising the space available to them.

The Lieutenant drew in more of the crew and droids to help make it happen. The cargo modules at the underside moved and changed positions to allow the storage of a craft in the ones they could spare. They might be able to squeeze in a full wing of fighters. That was better than nothing.

The main hangar was a hive of activity. Personnel were making their way to the evacuation points, X-Wings were being towed outside for the speeder pilots to return to after the fight. Wystari spared a moment from the task to see how the other transport was doing, he noted the efforts that the droid and his binary loadlifter friends were doing and making fine progress.

Then came the sound of thunder and the cavern shuddered. It was different from the rumbling volley from their planetary defence ion cannon. It felt more like impacts, tremors. More tremors came and this time pieces of ice broke from the ceiling and shattered to pieces off the transport’s hull and rained down upon them. Then came another several seconds later.

They were getting close. The crew quickened their pace as they continued, trying not to let the fear show on their faces. There was something a bit off, Wystari could hear shouting from the other transport and he caught the Lieutenant’s eye. “I’ll find out what the commotion is all about.”

“Yes, Skipper.” She nodded then paused for a second before tucking the datapad under her arm and jogged to his side. “I might come with you.”

Wystari didn’t respond as he heard the Hutt shouting in his native tongue at someone to get back. As they passed one of the portable fuel silos and cargo crates, they witnessed the Hutt whacking a datapad over the head of an officer. That droid was standing over too. 'What in blazes was going on?'

As they approached, saw that the officer was trying to say something and pointed upward before a chunk of ice fell down and struck the man.

“Notify a medic.” Wystari said to Cadin.

“Already on it, Skip.” He heard her say, there was tension in her voice.

Wystari frowned. The last thing they needed for their moral was everyone turning on each other. To see one striking their own gives rise to questions about...

“Stand back and give some room, please.” Wystari commanded to the Hutt and droid as he knelt down beside the prone man. “Now, tell me exactly what happened here.”

TAG: Koruga, Foodie, Commander Craven, Open