Star Wars The Rebellion

The Rebellion

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Before the rise of the New Republic and the reestablishment of the Jedi Order, there was the Galactic Empire and the Rebellion that was needed to bring it down. Established by men and women of varying species who have grown tired of being ordered to kneel at the feet of the Emperor Palpatine, the Rebellion was a rallying point for all those wishing to strike back. Though outnumbered and outgunned against the might of the Empire, the Rebels nonetheless changed history in the face of these odds. This is the story of one group of Rebels that took on the worst that the Imperials had to throw at them.

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The Story

The game takes place one month after the catastrophic defeat at Hoth where Echo Base had succumbed to the ruthlessness of Vader?s Death Squadron. With the use of probe droids, the rebel facility was discovered and quickly destroyed with the might of the dreaded walkers and 501st Legion. It had been thought that the Rebel Alliance had been ended and with good reason; over half of the evacuating transports had been shot down trying to break through the Imperial blockade and anyone who had been unable to reach the ships in time were killed or taken prisoner. Severely weakened, the Rebellion was forced to scatter their fleet while Imperial task forces were sent out to hunt them down.

But they were only weakened. Despite the loss of prominent heroes over the years such as Jan Dodonna, Han Solo, Arhul Narra, and several others, the Rebel Alliance?s leadership was still intact. And with the acquisition of more and more new allies such as the recently-promoted Supreme Commander of the Rebel Fleet Admiral Ackbar and the rest of the Mon Calamari, the Rebel Alliance is far from over. Nonetheless, it is being hounded by the Emperor?s massive forces. Unwilling to risk consolidating their forces and leadership in one place in fear of a repeat of Hoth, the Rebellion has decided to seek protection within the vastness of space.

Retreating into the Outer Rim, the Rebel Fleet has divided into small groups. Their mission? To survive. To harass Imperial forces in any way possible while these groups gather resources, ships, allies, and strength.

For the Dissenter Task Force, they find themselves in the Pondera Sector where the Empire has already established a presence. With the construction of hastily-erected space platforms and sensor arrays that have been established to give the Empire the eyes, ears, and force necessary to subjugate the sector. Though there are worlds that have been swayed to side with the Empire ? whether through negotiations or force -, the campaign to ?pacify? Pondera is hardly going as smoothly as the Empire?s finest would like. A moderate pirate presence has been formed in response to the Imperial intrusion and the militia forces on a number of worlds have not exactly proven cooperative to Imperial ambassadors which may require the Imps to request reinforcements to deal with them.

Until then, the Pondera Sector is a suitable patch of space for the rebellious men and women of the Dissenter Task Force. Here the fires of rebellion have already been lit. All that?s needed is a raid on a supply line here, assaulting one of those Imperial sensor arrays there, a treaty with one or two of those pirate groups, and the Rebels may find their little group to become a formidable force that could be a great aid to the Rebellion when it comes time to strike back at the Empire.

As long as they can survive the inevitable Imperial reprisal that is sure to come that is.

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The Characters

The Rebel Alliance isn?t picky. They don?t have academies, cloning facilities, or flight scho

 

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Dissenter Task Force

Named after its command ship, the Dissenter Task Force is one of the dozens of groups that had broken off from the main Rebel Fleet in order to evade capture while performing hit-and-run tactics against pursuing Imperial forces. However, while the task force is able to launch attacks against supply convoys and lightly-guarded space stations and sensor arrays, even combined the task force can find itself outmatched against one of the Empire?s Star Destroyers. Fact of the matter is that being so far out in the Outer Rim after Echo Base?s destruction and with no other major Rebel Alliance supply bases around, the task force is on its own with minimal supplies, personnel, and most of their weapons and fighters being outdated.

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The old Venator-class Star Destroyer, the Dissenter, serves as the flagship as well as a mobile base and command center for the men and women of the task force. Having been modified to fulfill the secondary role of a carrier, the warship is the home of Rebel pilots and soldiers that would load up into starfighters or assault transports, launch towards the latest Imperial target, and then return to rearm and recharge for the next attack. Though having once been a formidable warship during its time in the Clone Wars, the Destroyer is severely outgunned and outclassed by nearly every modern Star Destroyer that the Empire has in its fleets so its main focus is to be used as a platform that allows Rebel forces to carry out their hit-and-run attacks.

However, even the Dissenter finds itself hard-pressed to field an effective fighting force. Though the Rebel Alliance has obtained X-Wings that are renown for having fired the shot that killed the Death Star, the Dissenter only fields a little over a squadron of those fighters that are designated as Red Squadron. Blue Flight is used to designate the four valuable A-Wings while Green Group is made up of six B-Wings. With that, all the Dissenter has left are two squadrons of older fighters with Gold Squadron made up of Y-Wings and Gray Squadron formed out of Z-95 Headhunters. The rest of the ship?s hangar space is used for assault transports and shuttles to transport the task force?s ground forces and whatever other ships that the Rebels may possess.

It is at the bridge of this ancient vessel that the captain and overall commander of the task force ? Commodore Kayl Alder ? issues orders to the men and women under his command. The aging human had served as a bridge officer on a Dreadnaught ?class heavy cruiser during the Clone Wars and, later on, was promoted to command the same Star Destroyer that he now leads from. Two years before the Battle of Yavin, Alder, becoming increasingly agitated with the conduct of the Empire?s finest ? especially when it came to aliens -, had been contacted by agents of the newly-formed Rebel Alliance and was convinced to join the Rebellion.

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One of the many starships that has entered in the service of the Rebellion with their alliance to the Mon Calamari, the Hikahi is a MC40a light cruiser that has been assigned to the task force. With its varied armaments of turbolaser turrets, ion cannons, and warhead launchers, the cruiser provides some additional firepower to the task force. Nonetheless, like the Dissenter, the Hikahi cannot possibly face off against an Imperial Star Destroyer. Instead, the light cruiser is meant to provide capital ship support to attacking starfighters. Along with its weaponry, the Hikahi carries its own squadron of fighters but, unlike the Dissenter, the light cruiser only carries obsolete starfighters in the form of a single squadron of R-41 Starchasers that is fittingly called Chaser Squa

 

Sarge Approved. Let it never be said I don't revisit old ideas.


Name: Marneg Polo

Age: 55

Race: Human

Homeworld: Simpla-12

Personality: Marneg Polo no longer hates you. He?s extremely gruff, prone to talking to himself, and his sense of humor is more twisted than a cyclone. Underneath that, though, lurks a legitimate desire to seek repentance by helping others. Mind you, if he has to kill someone on the side, he isn?t complaining. Due to the vast quantities of artificial stimulants he used to imbibe, he can sometimes be highly addlebrained.

Appearance:
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Profession: Doctor/Journalist, Former Bounty Hunter

Skills: Near encyclopedic knowledge of chemicals, be they medicinal, recreational, or otherwise. Trained medical professional. Capable marksman and demolitions expert, though he hasn?t kept up with the pace of technology. Could conceivably help you attain artificial highs using damn near anything, but that'll cost you.

Weapons/Equipment: Emergency medical equipment. Large quantities of specialized chemicals to help ease his withdrawal symptoms. Datapad for articles. 1 x WESTAR-34 blaster pistol, spare cartridges.

Ship: Dissenter (Medical staff member)

Rank: Pharmaceuticals Expert/Editorial correspondent for underground Rebellion HoloNet publication

History: There was a war. More specifically, there was the war. The Clone Wars. And someway or another, Marneg Polo lost everything because of that damn war. His wife, his kids, his home, his job, a slice of his face? nothing was left after the bombing. He isn?t terribly sure who had made the bombs fall. He wasn?t terribly sure he cared. All he knew was that he was going to get revenge on absolutely everything for having the audacity to survive when his life was ruined, and he figured bounty hunting was a good way to do just that and make a buck while he was at it.

His penchant for turning in particularly mauled victims ? sorry, bounties ? coupled with his near relentless pace soon earned him a reputation, and it wasn?t long until he attracted the attention of folks in high places. The newly formed Galactic Empire had a real need for bounty hunters, and although Marneg hated them as much as he hated everyone else, a steady flow of jobs was a hard thing to resist. As his infamy grew, he took to calling himself The Expert, and kept right on doing what he loved to do.

Or at least it?s what he thought he loved to do. There was just one problem ? the drugs. You name it, at one point or another it was flowing through Marneg?s system, and that was a recipe for disaster. It was on Naboo that he went just a little too wild, and a routine gungan extermination turned into a whole different kind of bloodbath when he systematically slaughtered an entire Imperial outpost. The Empire didn?t take too kindly to this sort of thing, and Marneg ran.

He spent well on two standard years running, keeping a nutty, first person account of the whole thing as he did so. Drug addled nonsense had given him a strange style of reporting, and somewhere along the line it transformed from an account of personal atrocities to a kind of weird adventure dialogue. Selling these made for a good bit of profit on the side.

Then, on one nutty, drug crazed night, he had a vision. Now, Marneg had a lot of visions, drugs tended to do that, so he wasn?t too keen on paying them much mind, but on this particular occasion he saw his dead wife. One of only a handful of people ? all related to him, all dead ? that never showed up, even on his most out-there trips. She told him he had to change. Repent his crimes. Give up the drugs. Find a way to help others.

This left Marneg right truly spooked, so he did just that. He joined the Rebellion, because the Empire sure as hell wasn?t going to take him after Naboo, got himself some medical training (Fun fact ? imbibing l

 

Rebellion Tested. GM Appoved.


Name: Denton Vash
Age: 22
Race: Human
Homeworld: Alderaan
Appearance: Denton Vash is a Caucasian male of medium height and build. He has short, dark brown hair and deep green eyes. He is still young, with no lines or scars to show. He is also tattoo free, to avoid identifying marks. In a crowd, while being more handsome than most, he would not stand out.

Profession: Smuggler
Skills: Primary: Piloting, Navigation
Secondary: Marksman, Mechanic
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): S-5 Heavy blaster pistol with a wroshyr wood handle

Ship (Optional): Emancipator, a YT-2000 with a grossly over power tractor beam and reactor core to match, was originally designed as a tug to pull ships without power up to 15 times its size. Denton has modified to the ship with heavy turbolaser turrets and two Proton torpedo tubes
Rank: None
History:

Denton Vash was an ordinary guy, at 18 he started flying at the local flight academy on Alderaan where they trained cargo fliers, tug captains and stunt fliers. Upon graduation his parents, who were quite rich, bought him a brand new YT-2000 Tug Freighter. He was off on its maiden voyage when Alderaan was destroyed. He left, taking his parents fortune and his new ship and began a mediocre smuggling career. He did this until one of his contacts on Kasyyyk pointed him towards Dissenter Task Force. After a few runs he became a regular supply hauler for them, even flying in combat when they needed, as an escort or as an assault shuttle.

 

GM APPROVED



Name: Calia Ramos

Age: 27

Race: Ramosian (Think Human with Elvish Features)

Homeworld: Ramosia

Appearance:

Image Removed

Profession: Medic

Skills: Medicine, diplomacy.

Weapons/Equipment (Optional): She has the standard pistol on her belt.

Rank: One of the many doctors of the Rebellion. . .

History: The life of Calia Ramos, the rebellious princess, began in a handsome home in her beautiful mother's arms and her father petting her hair. Her mother had undergone multiple procedures to have Calia, and the simple fact that this child had survived the struggle gave her parents strength in itself. Since the beginning of the founding of civilization on Ramosia, the Ramos family has held control of the throne. They embraced everything the Republic preached. Ramosia accepted the fact that there were other beings outside of their own planet, but they wished to grow and progress at their own pace. But their wishes were crushed under the Iron Fist of the Empire as freedom was destroyed. The Empire invaded the underdeveloped planet and pilloted the lands. Destroyed the beautiful lands. Burned everything to the ground. The Ramos Castle, in which Calia was to inherit, was saved for last. Her mother took her and hid her in the lower decks with the houseworkers. As she waited for word from her mother, she could hear the odd guns going off above her. The thuds of bodies. Her mother's screams.She was assumed to be another houseworker and was enslaved into labor by the Empire. With the additional help of the other survivors, they banded against the troopers onboard on of the spaceships. The ship began to spiral out of control, and in their haste Calia was put on the one escape pod on board. As she drifted away, she watched the ship and the last of her people explode. She pledged a long hatred to the Empire. As she grew older under the Imperial rule, she befriended the Rebellion, which had began to take shape. She trained under several medics and realized her calling was to heal others. For every life she saved, she felt like she was saving one of her people. She became friends with many, and risked her life multiple times for the Rebellion. She went from ship to ship, mission to mission, in order to help the Rebellion. . .and herself.

Ramza Edit: Removed image that was giving a malicious code warning.

 

GM APPROVED Nice to be back in the world of RPs; I've been waiting for a while to find one I'd like to join and manage do so before it started.

Name: Cal Mord
Age: 28
Race: Human (Naboo)
Homeworld: Naboo
Appearance: With unkempt hair and stubble that doesn't typically see a razor on a daily basis, Cal is a living reflection of his personal organization (or lack thereof). Cal is large compared to most, being both tall, and of decent fitness and physique, but not so much intimidating as welcoming with a commonly wide smile and light blue eyes.
Profession: Pilot
Skills: Piloting, Close-Quarters Combat Specialist
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): DH-17 Blaster, spare power packs
Ship (Optional): R-41 Starchaser (Stationed aboard the Hikahi)
Rank: Sublieutenant
History: Living a relatively easy early life under the parentage of a single father, a middle-class merchant, Cal grew up without much resentment for the Empire. After all, so long as he could fly his old fixed up N-1, he didn't much care what went on elsewhere in the galaxy. However, his apathy towards the Galactic Empire came to an end when the son of a visiting Imperial Moff kidnapped, defiled, and murdered his fiance. In blind rage, Cal managed to kill both him and gravely injure the Moff as well. He barely escaped after being chased into and shot down in the swamps by the Moff's personal guards piloting Z-95's, suffering only a slight blaster graze and a broken finger. His personal ship, however, was wrecked beyond repair. Lost in the swamps, he managed to stumble upon a clearing with a landed Y-Wing starfighter. Unsure of what it was doing in the middle of the swamp, Cal stayed by it, hoping the owner was nearby. As it turned out, the starfighter in question belonged to a Rebel Alliance pilot who had had to make an emergency landing on the planet after a nearby raid on an imperial convoy had gone awry. Learning of Cal's supposed skills as a pilot, the man invited him to join the Alliance. Soon after, Cal was assigned to the Dissenter Task Force as a pilot with the rank of ensign. Now Cal is a sublieutenant in Chaser squadron onboard the Hikahi, with the callsign of Chaser Three.

 

OOC: Approved

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Name: Teagan Niall

Age: 26

Race: Human

Homeworld: Corellia (Formerly of Tyrena city)

Appearance: Brownish gold hair, about half way down her back but it is nearly always pulled back into a pony-tail. She is around 5ft 4in in height and she has a slender but healthy build, to the casual observer she looks unassuming. She has teal coloured eyes, and is Caucasian skinned with freckles on her cheeks. Her clothing varies from time to time. When flying her A-Wing she wears grey protective overalls, boots, equipment belt and a sturdy but well worn helmet. During any down time she wears plain coloured t-shirts, combat trousers, boots and a jacket. If she?s working on star fighters she wears an older pair of plain beige coveralls.

Profession: Starfighter Pilot / Mechanic

Skills: Piloting, ship mechanics and electronics

Weapons/Equipment (Optional): blaster pistol, tool belt

Ship: RZ-1 A-wing interceptor aka the A-Wing

Rank: Flight Officer

History:

Teagan Niall is a former imperial pilot who defected from the empire. She was born in Tyrena city on Corellia and grew up in a district of the city that was nicknamed by the locals as ?the skids? Her father worked in a small run down bar within the district called ?The Thirsty Krayt? and her mother worked in a second hand parts store in the local space port. The family didn?t have much money but they got by. She was often teased by other kids because of where she came from.

There wasn?t really much for the kids of the area to do so Teagan and the others would hang out and race old swoop bikes on the outskirts of the city, much to the disapproval of local law enforcement. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, Teagan loved anything fast and loud. If not swoop biking she would spend her time at the Tyrena city spaceport, admiring the various ships and star fighters that would dock at the port. She always dreamt of becoming a pilot but she was always shot down by others for her ambition. Despite all that doubted her, She worked extremely hard through her school years and as soon as she reached the age of eighteen she went to a naval recruitment centre in order to apply for a position in the Corellian sectors Naval Academy. The application process was long, the entrance tests gruelling, but she was really happy when she eventually received an acceptance notice and was soon enrolled as a cadet in the academy.

She came in the top five percent of her graduating class and because of this she was approached to qualify to train as a TIE pilot. She left Corellia behind and was transferred to Prefsbelt IV imperial facility where she was put under intense training and instruction. She also learnt ship mechanics in order to maintain her craft. She had spent just over a year and a half in a TIE training squadron when she heard rumours of the empires involvement regarding a group of missing cadets. She also found out that the empire had stormed certain areas of Corellia, including the skids, looking for rebel sympathisers. Her father and mother were arrested for standing up for themselves after their home and work places were trashed and Teagan started to doubt the empire and its motives. She secretly started to find out more information about the empire and was shocked at what she found out.

During the mutiny of the Rand Ecliptic, She too defected from the empire with a group of disillusioned cadets and went underground, eventually making contact with the rebellion not long after the battle of Yavin. As an imperial defector it was hard to gain full acceptance immediately but eventually she proved her loyalty to the rebel alliance. Because of her training in a TIE fighter, she was one of the few defectors who was assigned an A-Wing, a ship that was said to be on par with the TIE in terms of speed. Han Solo was once heard saying "Any pilot who volunteers to fly an A-wing better be brave or crazy. Probably helps to be a little of both." Due t

 

GM Note: Alright, didn't expect to announce a restriction so soon, especially for a profession, but here it is:

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Medics. We already have two approved medics/doctors and I already had two more character sheets where people have wanted to be the same profession. I might be willing to go through with one more medic/doctor but right now, for the sake of variety and not completely stockpiling on one profession, there will be no more medics, doctors, or any other kind of medical profession person whatsoever

Usually no one wants to be medics. Wish I had more Medics on my team when I play Team Fortress 2

 

GM Approved! (by the hair of my chinny chin chin, and officially the last medicial based character)

Name: Tevran Oden

Age: 43

Race: Human

Homeworld: Eeropha

Appearance: A severe distinction found in most 'rebels' as many coined the phrase was a prominent beard; so Tevran grew one. He has since grown proud of its magnificence as well as its bushy brown prominence, spending at least half an hour each morning to comb it into an aesthetically pleasing state. Above his pride and joy sits an equally as prominent nose which juts forward much like a reptavian beak. Nestled on either side of his hook-like nose are a pair of deep set common brown eyes which sparkle with silent intelligence and humour. His thin lipped mouth is perpetually quirked into a silly half grin as if he's quietly enjoying a joke that only he knows, the white shine of his teeth occasionally escaping. As for a build, Tevran could not be described as an overly muscular man, but as fit enough to do what needs to be done which coincides with his relatively diminutive size which could easily fit into a star fighter cockpit. Long and nimble fingers assist him in his trade, whether it be digging through the insides of some hapless casualty or switching out power converters on the ever intricate A-Wings, Tevran would be your man.

Profession: Surgeon--minimal skills as field medic and a proficient ship mechanic

Skills: Medical and fighter ship knowledge, cheating at Sabacc, star ship sabotage

Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Tevran uses whatever's assigned to him, usually consisting of regulation tools and supplies for ship doctoring, as well as host of other medical equipment for people doctoring.

Ship (Optional): Dissenter Calth 5th Infantry Regiment- Medical staff

Rank: (Lieutenant, Flight Officer, Corporal, etc.) Lance Corporal, Surgical Operations Director

History:

--Service File #007895?

Oden, Tevran
-Age 43-
Medical Officer

Service Report and Record

Found on an Imperial Prison Barge as one of the many hundreds of inmates conveniently labelled as either sympathisers to the rebellion, pirates or just plain terrorists; Tevran Oden certainly seemed quite out of place. At first glance one would certainly notice that the diminutive doctor was out of his element amongst hulking criminals who were accustomed to crushing the heads of men like him in their sausage like fingers. A further investigation by his Alliance liberators led them to discover his file buried deep within Imperial databases with vague reports obviously pointing to the fact that the poor doctor had angered the wrong person. Seeing a very good chance at getting himself out of a seemingly tight situation, Tevran Oden offered his services as a (rather prominent) surgeon along with his ability to find his way around a ship?s insides as gathered from his former home Eeropha (a planet used as a refuelling as well as a ship repair point for Imperials coming to and from Coruscant)
Not ones to pass up on a find like this, and still quite undermanned and reeling from the loss of their base on Hoth the Galactic Alliance took him in, or rather, the Dissenter Task Force took him in, the last remnants of the scattered rebellion. Time and time again he had proven his worth, bringing a trooper back from the brink of death or managing to get the engines roaring on a star fighter that had lain dormant, considered a lost cause by many. For him, what mattered was life, and the preservation of it, whether it be inanimate or not, everything should be revered and cared for despite. As a consequence, Tevran was not a fighter, nor even a lover for that matter, but a saviour. So strong was his connection to his patients that he wept for everyone he could not save, locking himself in his room for days, mourning. He held no discrimination, it had been more times than once that he had saved an Imperial?s life, a prisoner brought in severely wounded from a recent fire fight, or even in the heat of battle and he had happened to come across the

 

Name: Kev Telrence
Age: 23
Race: Zeltron
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Appearance: [image=http://swagonline.hostsofamerica.com/files/images/marruc.preview.jpg]
Profession: Ace pilot and sharpshooter
Skills: Plioting, minor repair skills, tracking skills and well honed marksman skills
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): DC-15x, Vibrodagger (for those rare melee moments), DH-17 (sidearm), electro-binoculars, camouflage scout outfitting.
Ship (Optional): Personally Modified A-Wing fighter equipped with improved accuracy missiles.
Rank: Flight Officer
History: Born in the hive that is Nar Shaddaa to his mother and some man he never knew he was raised in the constant flux and chaos that is the Smuggler's Moon. When he was about fourteen be began doing small scams in some of the shady corners of his neighborhood gaining some noticed from one of the many Hutt Crime Lords there. At the same time he began to hone his empathic abilities to find easier targets, the nervous, the cocky and so on who could easily be swayed. By the time he was eighteen he was already working for the same Hutt who trained him to become a hired gun on top of his already impressive scheming abilities. Taking the money he could he ended up leaving the service of said crime lord, on good terms, to become a head hunter. With the Empire cracking down on some of the more local hires it made things difficult. Coming across an area that had been raided by Imperials he noticed many of his prior co-workers from Nar Shaddaa tron to pieces. Enraged he tracked down the squad responsible and with just a few well aimed shots ended yet one more of the Emperor's hit squads. As a result however he became a hunted man, so instead of running and hiding he went for safety in numbers hopping aboard the band-wagon of the Rebellion, soon becoming a crack pilot as well as a sharpshooter, something that came in very handy with them on the run as they were.

 

GM Approved!

Name: Ghost
Age: 25ish
Race: Human
Homeworld: Coruscant
Appearance: Slender, pale, black hair and eyes
Profession: Slicer
Skills: Slicing, electronics, mechanics? also knife-fighting.
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Several datapads of varying sizes and processing power, multitool, several vibroblades
Ship (Optional): n/a
Rank: n/a
History:
Ghost isn?t completely sure how old he is, where he?s really from, or for that matter what his real name is.

For as long as he can remember everyone has called him Ghost (when they called him anything at all, anyway: in his early years Hey you or Boy was just as common), because he?s got a talent for blending in with the background and going unnoticed. It was a useful talent in the Coruscant underworld, where Ghost grew up bouncing between various gangs and criminal elements of varying levels of evilness.

Also useful was his talent for slicing: an acquaintance taught him to slice when he was very young (because they needed a slicer who could also crawl through small spaces) and he discovered a startling knack for it. Soon enough there wasn?t a lock he couldn?t break, or a system he couldn?t compromise, or an encryption scheme he couldn?t crack, or for that matter a device he couldn?t disassemble. Ghost could do it all.

And then, because it was the underworld after all and his ability to slice had made him a target by the time he was a teenager, he learnt to fight with knives. He developed a habit of hiding blades in various hidden places in his clothing and strapped to parts of his body, and he kept them all sharp enough to slit a human?s throat with a single swipe.

It was therefore inevitable that Ghost would wind up crosswise of the wrong gang, kill the wrong person, and be forced to make a hasty escape offworld. He had saved up enough credits, thankfully, to obtain a fake Imperial ID chit and a berth on a ship bound for the Outer Rim. From there, one job led to another, and he eventually found himself on Hoth helping the Rebel Alliance overthrow the Empire.

After all, what better place for a ghost?

 

GM Announcement: Alright, I'm sure people are wondering when we're gonna start and that answer is Monday. So for those who are still typing up their character sheets you have plenty of time! Just don't give me anymore medics. Or hackers since we're starting to get there too

 

GM Approved!

Name: Tavil Gry?roti
Age: 28
Race: Bothan
Homeworld: Coruscant
Appearance: Standing about 1.5 meters tall, Tavil?s skin is a mid-green color. He had green eyes, and a small tattoo of a droid on his left leg. While working on ships, he wears a typical engineer flightsuit so that the engine grease and oil are on one pair of clothing. When he is working with technical equipment, he wears a pair of goggles that he can wear to protect his eyes in case he needs to hotwire something in an emergency, along with standard-issue Rebel Alliance tunic and pants. He wears standard-issue black boots at all times.
Profession: Hacker/Mechanic/Technician
Skills: Hacking, operating machinery/technology, mechanic for starfighters and support craft, some skill with a blaster and ordinance (although he is rather out of practice with the latter), can act as temporary ground control for starfighter flights on capital ship if necessary
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Standard blaster pistol in a holster on his usual fatigues. Otherwise, he carries around a few important tools like a hydrospanner and wire cutters on a small tool belt around his waist.
Ship (Optional): Whatever Alliance ship he is needed on at the current time . . .
Rank: Just a simple hacker and technician on capital ships.

History: Born on Coruscant to a durasteel-factory worker father and stay-at-home mother, Tavil was raised in partial poverty. He and his three siblings learned from a young age to find any way they could to make money, even if it meant stepping on the wrong side of the law. At five, his older brother was arrested for stealing from a scrap parts shop, and sentenced to several years in jail. Tavil has always felt that his brother was unfairly punished, and keeps that as a chip on his shoulder to join the fight against oppression.

In his teens, Tavil became interested in technology. He viewed it as a way to get out of his abject poverty, and instantly started to study the basics. This consumed most of his time for around three years, when a science experiment he entered in a science fair got 2nd Place in the official contest. This netted him an opportunity to attend a well-known technological college, which he didn?t think twice about before enrolling.

In college, Tavil learned important skills in the areas of computer programming and coding, along with simple repairs to machinery. After four years at the college, he had earned high marks in all of his class, and was admitted into graduate level course work. It was here where his life changed dramatically. The college professors he was working for were fulfilling a contract for a new weapons system for the Galactic Empire. At first, Tavil didn?t think anything of it; he had more of a beef with the local police than he did with the Empire and its Emperor. This was until his older brother and a younger brother were both forced to join the Imperial military. He never heard from them again, and when word came back that one of his brothers had died ?in a training accident? and the other?s death notice came weeks later, Tavil knew that he couldn?t deal with the college and its dealings with the Empire anymore. Hastily withdrawing from college, Tavil moved onto a small gig working on supply freighters. It didn?t being in much money, but it was a job.

For several years, Tavil honed his skills on technology, while writing computer code on the side for any paying customers. AS his skills improved, so did his notoriety in the area. Finally, he worked his way up to lead mechanic of the shop, and had started a small side business for coding. When Imperial inspectors came to his door, they ransacked his business, afraid that he was working for the Rebel Alliance and determined to destroy anything of value to their enemies. Angered that they acted without just reason, Tavil officially joined the ranks of dissent on the Galactic capital. When a pilot whose ship he was working on started to speak of the Rebel Alliance, Tavil made his move. He resigned his job abruptly and paid th

 

Name: Dinordo Yulafa

Age:51

Race: Equine (Farfalla)

Homeworld: Farfalla

Appearance: About 1.6 meters tall standing up straight, which isn't often. Long white beautiful hair, two small horns occasionally stick out, long white haired goat legs that are usually attempted to be hidden, unsuccessfully, by different clothing articles

Profession: B-Wing and Y-Wing flight instructor

Skills:
Primary: Flying, mechanics, marksmanship
Secondary: Electician, cooking

Ship (Optional): A B-Wing dubbed 'The Telos T' and a Y-Wing named 'Little Sister'

Rank: Commander

History: Dinordo was raised on Farfalla, but moved to Corellia to study mechanics at Corellia University. After he graduated it was very difficult to find work because the Empire wanted mechanics to enlist with them instead of making a living in civilian areas. Dinordo soon found out he was not the only one frustrated with Imperial presence and soon began picking up illegal bounties taking out Imperial Officers. He soon became renowned across Corellia for the ability to sneak into an Imperial office, take out someone and leave without a trace. This drew the attention of a Rebel recruiter and Dinordo joined the Alliance to Restore the Repulic, as he could remember the easier days when the Republic ruled the Galaxy.

Dinordo started off as a sniper in one of the Alliance regiments. There he faired pretty well, because he got to sit way back in the battle and take guys out. After his expertise in mechanics was discovered, however, he was moved onto one of the many Rebel carriers where he would fix up the fighters that came in. As he repaired a fighter, he would tell the pilot what he did wrong to allow himself to get hit where he was. One day he was doing this to what he thought was just another pilot, but it turned out to be the commanding officer of the carrier he was on. The officer recommended Dinordo to be promoted and so he was, to Captain, and moved to another ship The Dissenter.

On the Dissenter he has been in charge of training pilots in both Green Group and Gold Squadron and has been known to fly out with either. He is the highest ranked officer in both groups, so he is the unofficial commanding officer of the two.

 

Name: Grryn Myrwrr
Age: 31
Race: Togorian
Homeworld: Togoria
Appearance: Three and a bit metres in height, Grryn is a large Togorian to be sure. His fur is a dark auburn colour and streaked with coppery stripes. He is scarred, but not excessively. His eyes are orange. He generally wears a pocket-covered vest and a pair of loose, knee-length pants.
Profession: Pilot
Skills: An excellent pilot and unparalleled hunter and tracker. Quite handy with a wrench, when it comes to needing physical weapons.
Weapons/Equipment: Prefers to stick to bladed weapons and wields a particularly nasty knife a full foot and a half long. Also carries a blaster pistol which is rarely used.
Ship: The Stag, a modified YT-2000 light freighter. Fast and reliable, the ship is modified to match Grryn's preferences, among these some physical modifications so that he may fit the cockpit better.
Rank: Captain
History: Grryn was born on Togoria and raised on Togoria. He roamed the wild planet like all males do, earning enough repute to pitch a tent in the Margrave's camp. Grryn eventually found himself drawn offworld by the thrill of the hunt, and took to claiming bounties in his youth. This soon bored him, however, and as the Galactic Empire rose, he watched as Togoria's star sunk slowly, mired by the threat of off-worlders. Grryn liked off-worlders - they were interesting and exciting, and brought new stories and opportunities with them. As Grryn's world became little more than a pawn in galactic politics, he soon found himself drawn to resistance - against the Empire. His views brought him into contact with the Rebellion proper, and by the time of Hoth he was a well-known member of the Rebel Alliance, and used his reliable freighter to rescue as many survivors as possible. Now he finds himself celebrated as the "Mad Cat" of the Dissenter - often times the only being willing or physically capable to fly missions crazy enough to work.

 

GM Approved!


Name: Arsin Kondarr
Age: 19
Race: Human
Homeworld: Chandrila
Appearance: 5?10?, Caucasian male, blonde hair, blue eyes, thin but somewhat muscular
Profession: Sapper/Trooper
Skills: Primary: Civil Engineering, explosives
Secondary: Everything they teach you at boot camp
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Standard issue blaster rifle and sidearm, shaped charges, 4 frag grenades, thermal tape, and any other various explosive devices the Alliance might provide
Ship (Optional): N/A
Rank: Private 1st Class, Calth 5th Infantry Regiment
History: Arsin was born and raised on Chandrila to a well-off middle class family. He is an only child, with his father a member of the Chandrilan House (the democratic ruling body) and his mother a primary school teacher. Arsin grew up friendly, sheltered, environmentally conscious, and brilliant. He easily passed through his primary and secondary education, not taking much time to study, and overall fairly bored with the whole ordeal. He entered college at the age of 16.

As an engineering student, Arsin began to slack in his studies somewhat while he began to enjoy college life. Then, Imperial TIE Fighters began attacking Chandrila?s capital city. AT-STs shot at civilians, and Bombers rained death from the sky. Only the intervention of Rogue Squadron prevented the complete subjugation of the city. Arsin later learned that the attack had been retaliation for a Rebel raid on Fest. Not that he cared much. He now hated the Empire, particularly the local Moff Seerdon for being the instigator of the attack. He began to take college seriously, graduating in two years and rushing off to join the Rebellion. He joined shortly before Hoth, where he barely made it out of the icy trenches alive.

Like most Chandrilans, Arsin loves the environment and debating politics (if you?ll let him). However, he?s learned that the environment must sometimes be changed (explosively), and that politics in the Rebellion are fairly simple. This has led him to look for new hobbies, which include creating makeshift explosives, violent landscaping projects (virtual simulation: no dirt was hurt or killed in the making of this trench), and reading holojournals, particularly one about a bounty-hunter-turned-journalist who runs from the law and recuperates from drug abuse.

 

Sarge Approved, so I guess he liked it. Either that or he just skimmed it and hopes it's good.....

Name: Alexander Ducal (pronounced Due-Call), Alex
Age: 31
Race: Human
Homeworld: Tatooine
Appearance: Alex is of moderate height and weight. Attractive, but no real beauty. He usually keeps his facial hair anywhere from stubble to a full beard, depending on his mood. His hair is brown, kept medium-short, and usually slightly unkempt. He isn't largely built, but he is muscular. He has a slightly intimidating air and exudes confidence.
Personality: Alex is a gruff, but kind man. He's got his rough, crude exterior, but if he feels that he should be caring for ya, he's caring for ya. He tells it like it is, and is an avid cigar smoker.
Profession: Heavy Trooper
Skills: His skill base is rather basic. He's picked up a few things here and there, but primarily he can kill you with anything he happens to be able to lay his hands on. He's had his fair share of improvised weaponry (Bar fights mostly), and he can hold his own with fists and his combat knife. As well, he's a pretty decent to expert shot with most firearms and ordinance, depending on which gun we are talking about.
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): He can always be seen with a DH-17 Carbine strapped at his hip, as well as a small holdout blaster he keeps at his left, though he rarely uses that one. On mission, he's usually seen with his trusty A280 blaster rifle, though he can be seen with a large variety of weapons ranging from explosives, to sniper rifles, to rocket launchers and the like. However, the true love of his life is his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon--old, but well kept--that he has nicknamed Susan. No one knows why. Regrettably, it is not ideal for many situations, so he does not use it often. He also always has a combat knife strapped to him somewhere.
Ship (Optional): Though he goes where he's needed, The Dissenter is his home.
Rank: Lieutenant, Calth 5th Infintry Regiment

History: "Come from Tatooine, born and raised. Childhood not much to speak on. My daddy was a small time hunter, poor, but kept some food on the table. Soes, I've been around guns and the such for quite some time. Wasn't very old when I hocked up with a small time bounty hunter. Sees, he needed him some muscle, and I was a strong lad with a decent firin' arm, an' he never left Tatooine, which suited me just fine. Learned a lot from him, but I never did like 'im. Bit of a... well, I'm sure your imagination can supply ya with a word or two. Was in his employ for well over ten years, not that I enjoyed it, but there was nothin' else better ta do. Man in my line o' work, well, he's got bounty huntin' or the army, an' I never been too fond of them imps myself.

"Well, it was maybe five years ago, maybe less, when I was workin' a job with 'im. Huntin' a rebel. Well, we cornered her and, I'll be honest, she was a sweetie. Quite the looker. I tell ya this because it factors into what happened next. Well, that boss o' mine let her talk some. She went on 'bout stoppin' the empire and the like, an' I'd be a lyin' man if I didn't say that it moved me. So, I shot my poor dear employer and found myself a new line o' work. Had to leave Tattooine, but... We all have to leave home sometime.

"Fought through some hell and made it to Hoth. I was surprised as everyone when the Imps hit us, but I was out there on the front lines, holdin' out as long as possible. Me and Susan... well, we ate up some imps, bought some good time for my mates. But even Susan's no match for those damn AT-ATs, and we had to fall back. Barely got out alive, makin' one of the last transports. Got a promotion or two outta it. Don't know how I feel about that, but... well, here I am."

 

Sarge approved!

Name: Tayse Palror
Sex: Male
Age: 22
Race: Tunroth
Homeworld: Saloch
Appearance: 1.6 m in height, muscular frame, three digits on each hand, elongated skull with nostrils above in between two eyes. The lower jaw has five bony, horn-like protrusions. His skin coloration is dark brown.
Profession: Pilot/tracker
Skills: Fairly decent piloting ability, but excellent tracking skills. Tayse was the best hunter in his family and has a true knack for finding people who don?t want to be found.
Weapons/Equipment (Optional): Klirun (hunting bow) , blaster, shoulder pads with spikes for wear when not piloting.
Ship (Optional): X-wing
Rank: Flight Officer
History: Tayse grew up on the Mid Rim planet of Saloch. His family unit was know for their great hunting ability and Tayse was the best of them. He was restless however to remain on Saloch so at age 18 he sought passage off the planet and worked his way to the Rebellion doing odd jobs and finding people to pay for his trip. When he finally was picked up by Rebel troops at age 20 he had taught himself a number of other skills. He continually practiced shooting with an old blaster that he found on the second freighter that carried him away from his home.

Tayse also managed to befriend an older human who saw fight in the young Tunroth. The man was a wily old smuggler pilot who took several months teaching Tayse how to pilot his ship. The man had hoped to turn his business over to Tayse, however realized that the goals were much higher for ambitious youngster.

 

After much wrangling from all sorts of people .... approved.

Name: Kols Sienar
Age: 30
Race: Human
Homeworld: Coruscant
Appearance: Tall and scraggly, but with noble features. Black hair, blue eyes, consistently with a little stubble. Usually dresses in expensive, but dirty and faded, clothes.
Profession: Engineering and Finances
Skills: Technical Manipulation, Diplomacy and Connections, Banking
Weapons/Equipment: SoroSuub ELG-3A "Diplomat's Blaster"
Ship: Modified StarSpeeder 1000 - "The Castaway"
Rank: Chief Financial Officer

History: Born into the wealthy Sienar family, Kols was always the black sheep of the group. Going to university on Alderaan (before the planet was destroyed), Kols fell in with a rebel youth group. The group managed to persuade Kols as to the evil his father, Raith, was doing. After his graduation (with a degree in economics), Kols continued to feed information on the projects that Sienar Flight Systems was producing for the Empire. However, this feed ended around his 24th birthday, when Raith caught Kols snooping around. Raith could not bring himself to turn his son to Imperial authorities, however, he was afraid of the reprisals that the Emperor would visit upon his business due to his son's disloyalty. So Raith disowned Kols and cast him out into the Outer Rim. Kols eventually found himself at Echo Base and was a survivor of the Battle of Hoth. He now works with the Dissenter Task Force as their chief accountant.

 

Action VI Transport Demeter
Imperial Convoy, Transit Point Two

There were three Action VI Transports in total in this convoy: the Demeter, Meson, and Xenox. Under the watchful eyes of the crew of the Imperial Strike-class medium cruiser, the convoy was one of the infrequent but nonetheless valuable convoys that the Empire deigned to send out to resupply its Outer Rim garrisons and other task forces that were operating far from the Core Worlds and the Inner Rim. But the convoy ships and the tons upon tons of supplies that they carried were not just valuable to Imperial garrisons that were out here; they were also good for any pillaging Rebels.

That was why Ghost was here.

As he had already been informed before he had been given this mission, the Dissenter Task Force was moving further out into the Outer Rim. While it was true that the Empire was getting increasingly relentless in its efforts to survive - what they believe - to be the last remnants of the Rebel Alliance after Hoth, the task force was moving towards a more proper staging area not just to more effectively hide from Imperial forces...but to strike back. Though any other information has been scarce as to what, exactly, they were planning on doing, what mattered is that the task force was going to stock up on supplies before they started on this mission. And they were going to do it in the traditional Rebel fashion: steal it from the Imperials.

And Ghost was the key to delivering those supplies right into Rebel hands. It had been easy to establish his false ID in order to get him hired onto the crew of the Demeter - and the fact that the security consultant on the ship was a Rebel sympathizer - and all that Ghost needed to do was do what he did best: slicing.

Though the plan was a bit technical, it was nonetheless simple when you factored in his slicing abilities. All that was needed was for Ghost to slice a new code into the navicomputer that would produce a course deviation in the final leg of the convoy's trip. While the crew would think they were jumping to the right coordinates, the Demeter would instead fly out from the cover of the Strike Cruiser and end up in a pre-designated position for a pair of Rebel fighter squadrons to disable it and make off with their cargo. Simple.

Problem was that he only had a limited amount of time to do it. Despite the convoy having already been on this journey for three days, it was only now that Ghost had access to the navicomputer when most of the crew had went off to the mess for lunch. There were two junior officers on the bridge right now but they hardly took notice of Ghost's presence as the Rebel sympathizer that got him hired - Emil - had brought him up to the bridge with the excuse of doing a double check of the ship's navigation systems. He only had a little over half an hour until the convoy made its final jump to its destination but who knew when the rest of the bridge crew would return from lunch; could be twenty-five minutes or as soon as fifteen or even less.

But he had to work. He already knew of the other Rebel operation that was going on concerning a sensor array and Commodore Alder had made it clear that they were to meet up with the rest of the task force as it was finished whether they had the supplies or not.

TAG: DarthXan318



Hyperspace
Enroute to Ambush Point

With their X-Wings, B-Wings, and A-Wings having been roped into the assault on the Imperial Sensor Array, it was the R-41 Starchasers of Chaser Squadron and the Y-Wing pilots of Gold Squadron that were assigned to claim the supplies of what they hoped would be in the Demeter's cargo hold. That was if their agent did his job correctly.

But if he did, the pilots of both squadrons had their duties. The Y-Wings led by Commander Yulafa would make attack runs on the transport, disabling its weapons with their ion cannons. Though Action VI transports didn't usually possess shields or weapons, it had nonetheless been said that the Action VIs

 

OOC: First post!

Arsin Kondarr, Sapper
Emancipator, Cargo Hold

Arsin sat in the hold of the Emancipator, packing demolitions supplies. Lets see? I?ll need plenty of thermal tape for those doors, and probably some shaped charges for any heavy reinforcement those walls might have? and also some frag grenades to clear rooms? stun grenades and flash bangs? ugh. Arsin sighed and looked up, seeing Calia Ramos towards the other side of the hold. He nudged Alexander Ducal next to him.

?Hey, El-Tee, I realize I haven?t been around the Rebellion long, but? is she really coming into a war zone with us?? He whispered, nodding in Calia's direction. She?s too pretty to do any fighting. I think they said she was a medic? Ugh, I need to get my head on straight before the mission starts.

Arsin picked up his rifle and inspected it. Satisfied, he loaded a power pack in and put the safety on. Moving on to his pistol, he decided to clean it a bit, taking out an old rag and wiping it down, then loading it and equipping its safety as well.

Tag: spycoder9, Chuckles38

 

Tevran Oden, surgeon and mechanic

Dissenter - Hangar Bay


The air reeked of tension.

Or, perhaps it was just the filtered air. Tevran could never tell the difference; less than a month onboard the Dissenter had not taught him how to discern one, nor the other. All the same, he wasn't comfortable with either. As his boots rang on the polished floor bringing him ever closer to the Hangar Bay, he broke out into cold sweat, attributed to a fear he had kept to himself. Ironic that one of his greatest skills was knowing the ins and outs of many of the starships and fighters currently linked to the task force, a surgeon of machines, if you will, since, just one of Tevran's private fears was of flying, be it atmospheric, or space. He dreaded them both. The pitch and roll, the sudden drop and climb, even the slightest turn cause his stomach to clench and threaten to empty itself. This mere fact Tevran neglected to tell anyone simply out of shame. How in the force could a starship mechanic be afraid of flying?! Of all things! It was simply too embarrassing to even confide to someone. The narrow corridor soon widened into the cavernous space of the Dissenter's hangar bay, the before muted roar of preparation now echoing unchecked as pilots and crews scurried over their ships in their last minute check ups, fueling, arming and in some cases, modifying.

Modifying. This was where he came in. Big brass had enlisted the help of a few mechanics, which included Tevran, or at least, his skills, to serve as crew onboard four of the task force's ATR-6 transports in order to make sure that the installment of an array of jamming systems didn't 'jam' up anything else crucial in the craft. A shower of sparks directed Tevran to where the transports were arranged while a team of techies made some finishing touches on the new equipment. As he neared the formation, he made an attempt to swallow his fear and mopped his forhead clean of any betraying glisten. He wasn't the only one on these ships, it wouldn't do to let his demons endanger the lives of others. An unnamed pilot leaned out of one transport, and waved at Tevran, "Welcome to the newly-christened Wraith Group, doc," Tevran forced a small grin onto his pale face, "A pleasure," he returned, "Any word on when we take to the vacuum?" He hoisted himself alongside the pilot, taking a quick look inside at where he would spend the next few hours, "Name's Tevran, by the by." He offered a hand he realised with a sudden horror he neglected to wipe dry of sweat.

Sithspit.

Tag: Sarge, and anyone interested

 

IC: Alexander Ducal
'Nother Day, 'Nother Dollar... This One on Board a YT-2000

Smoke curled lazily up from the cigar, tracing a wandering path through the air until being sucked into the ventilation systems of the freighter. Alex pondered, briefly, if the captain of this here vessel minded him smokin'. Quite quickly he decided he didn't much care, and he took another pull before returning to the ministrations of the gun on his lap. Beautiful beyond expression, the rotary cannon shined with polish as it moved in the artificial light of the starship. This was a weapon worthy of being wielded. Susan here, she fought in the Clone Wars. How she made it out to Tatooine was mighty hard to fathom, but somehow Alex had come across her. With a loving, caring hand he restored her. And it was worth the time and money. Back on Hoth, Susan here saved his life along with the lives of countless others. One of the few pleasures of that ill fated day was the tide of stormtroopers falling before Susan's seemingly endless barrage of fire.

But that was not now. That was not here. No, she'd do her part here too. It may not be pretty, as closed quarters as this mission was likely to be, but she'd get it done just like she always did. Alex finished his ministrations, topping it off by running a rag over some oil that had gotten on one of the barrels. He then carefully set her down, checking over his blaster pistol, carbine, and rifle. He seemed to have quite a lot of firepower, and he knew it. Honestly, it didn't bother him. He learned long ago, in the blistering desert sands of Tatooine that being too prepared was nonexistent. Caught out in the desert, raiders comin' at ya.... you wanted as much fire power as you could lay your hands on, plain and simple.

Since coming to the alliance, he learned that that same principle still applies. Only difference was now he could get a lot more fire power at less of the price. Sure, Alex was in it for the Alliance. He wanted the imps to burn. Since he joined the Alliance, the followers of Emperor Palpatine hadn't exactly endeared themselves to him, and he hoped very soon they would understand that that was something that should be avoided. The name Alexander Ducal was not a name most people wanted on their enemy list.

His weapons checked, Alex decided he might as well settle back and wait. He needed his mind here, not in the past. Smoke poured out of his mouth as he exhaled, the cigar dropping some ash onto the floor of the freighter. As Alex sat there, leaned against the wall, eyes closed, he began to sing a song to himself, quietly, that his mother used to sing to him before bed. He found that, when times were stressful, it calmed him more than his cigars did.

"'Neath Tatooine's suns,
Twin yellow, and red
My baby boy sleeps deep
In his handwoven bed.
With the sands of the desert
Playin' drums on his wall,
Whisperin' and sighin'
Bout nothin' at all."

He continued humming the rest below his breath, but only got another verse or so in when he felt a nudge form the seat next to him. He opened an eye to glance over at Private 1st Class Arsin Kondarr. Seemed like a good enough kid. Decent with explosives, if not a little green around the gills. Alex remembered seein' him at Hoth. If he survived that frozen hell, he can't be all bad. The Lieutenant closed his eye before speaking again, blowing out more smoke as he did so.

"Sure is. She may be a pretty thing, but I hear she's a fair medic. You'll want that for when ya get shot up, trust me." He opened his eyes now and looked over at the young man who was now cleanin' his pistol. "Besides, you can protect her, can'tcha?" He winked at the kid before continuing. "'Sides, whatcha can't manage, Susan an' I'll be mor'an able ta' take care of, eh baby?" Alex patted the rotary cannon leaning next to him. It seemed like a lighthearted enough gesture, but there was was serious emotion behind for anyone willing to look deep enough. He loved that gun.

TAG:spycoder, UnknownRogue, JEDIGUNSHIP, docking_bay94

 

Marneg Polo
Hyperspace; En route to Ambush Point

We were somewhere on the way to the ambush point when the drugs began to take hold. Now, for you shmucks who are regular subscribers to this particular periodical, that should raise some red flags right off the bat. "But wait Marneg!" you shout, "You gave up most of that stuff years ago!" You're goddamn right I did. But not even I'm crazy enough to think that cargo vessels inexplicably start flashing technicolor and writhing with a million chartreuse leeches on their own. This was the work of one thing, and one thing only - the foul fantazi mushroom.

Top-grade hallucinogens, fantazi mushrooms contain a potent blend of just about every psychedelic upper you can name. And I can name quite a few. I'm a doctor. That's my shtick. The end result is a mind-shattering euphoria where absolutely nothing makes any goddamn sense, as my longtime readers will be familiar with from the collections of my older diary entries. Didn't the very first one start off this exact same way? That's synchronicity for you. Buggers up everything.

But I'm getting away from myself. The main point was that I hadn't eaten any of the kriffing things to begin with, but here I was, lit up like an exploding star destroyer, with nothing but my tabacc pipe in my hands.

Of course - the pipe! No doubt spiked by foul Imperial saboteurs aiming to cause the Republic's beloved Dr. Polo to fall back off the wagon. The hell they would! Hurriedly I tossed the pipe away, tabacc extinguishing itself as it hurtled through the air. "Force! Goddamn bastards trying to sabotage my entire operation! And we need 10 kilograms of medigel base, sigma type. If you'll excuse me the walls are starting to ooze toxic slime." I shouted all this at our unfortunate finances expert, Kols Sienar, who had the dubious honor of assisting me in this most vital of tasks. He's a straight-laced fellow, got everything in order.

I tolerate him anyway.

I stumbled forward before tripping over a small box - no doubt placed there by the very saboteurs who had spiked my pipe. Assassination had been their game all along. "Filthy rat bastards! You think the Emperor's finest can kill kriffing Marneg Polo! Like hell you will! Like hell! I'll... I'll..." The euphoria subsided. Venomous snails retreated back into box form. Technicolor faded to gray.

Flashback.

"Yes, that would it explain it. I'd kill something if it weren't for this goddamn oath of nonviolence." My blaster somehow managed to shoot a particularly unfortunate rat square in the head. "Nonviolence right to the skull, you rat bastard. Ah, see, 'sa pun! I need a smoke."

I reached down where my pipe had fallen and attempted to salvage as much tabacc as possible. Taking a small dose of antipsychotic medication from my pocket, I sprinkled it in, mixed it into a foul smelling concoction, and lit it.

Oh yeah. That was the stuff. Sweet, sweet anxiolytic. Which reminded me. "We also need about 200 stimpaks and 100 tranquilizers, if I remember correctly. That sound about right to you? Of course it does. I'm Dr. Marneg Goddamn Polo."

TAG: Impy, (Peng, Sarge)

 

IC: Tayse
Dissenter
Hangar Bay

The smell of fuel and oil filled his sensitive nostrils as the door opened before him with a swish. His eyes roamed across the expanse of the hangar taking note of the layout and the beings located in each area. This information was cataloged into memory as was taught to him by his elders. Not the military leaders, but the elders of his family who had spent many generations becoming the best trackers on Saloch. Tayse had spent his early years absorbing all of the information he could from the others. He had always known he was destined for bigger things that to merely stay on Saloch and marry and raise children. His drive to be the best had quickly helped him get through several ranks of the hunter levels. By the time he had left home, he had reached level 18 a level most over ever dreamed of reaching. His family, he knew, was let down by the fact that Tayse chose to leave home instead of continue through the ranks. There was much talk of him having the potential to reach very near the upper level of 27 by the time his life had been completed. Tayse did not want that though. He wanted more. So he left and made his way to the Rebellion. The Empire would never accept an alien into the ranks of the military. Sure there were rumors that some had been granted commissions, but no one from his species. The Rebellion welcomed him with open arms.

As he made his way across the hangar bay Tayse tugged at the collar of his orange uniform. The close fitting outfit was perfect for the confines of the cockpit, but outside of the cockpit Tayse felt as if he were being choked. He gave up protocol and unclipped the top portion of the uniform and thought no one would notice. The three digits on each of his hands gripped the railing of the ladder leaning against his assigned X-wing as he hoisted himself up to the cockpit.

"Hey Kilter," he called to his R2 unit. Tayse had named the droid after a traditional weapon of the Tunroth species.

A whistle and hoot greeted him as he swung his leg over the side of the ship and sunk into the cockpit. A technician handed him a helmet which he promptly slipped onto his head and fastened the strap snugly against his chin. He looked over the gages of his X-wing while he clicked his comlink on.

"Red 9, snug and secure awaiting further instructions." He called out to the rest of the squadron.

Tag: GM, any pilot on the Dissenter