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((OOC; Right, first off, I’m sorry about dictating what happens to you guys a little bit, and also the fleet size is a bit iffy, but I’m doing my best here, considering the fact that I’ve never done this battle thing before. Well, not from a commanding level anyhow. Also, feel free to be more specific about exactly what you have here with us. I’ll do my best to be vague.))
The city world of Coruscant, the heart and soul of the Galactic Republic for hundreds, thousands of years. It’s entire surfaced covered in towering, gleaming buildings. It’s artificial beauty as alluring as anything nature could offer. It had always been a peaceful world, safe and relatively quiet. The streets of Coruscant had always been safe and as you walked them, it was as if a benevolent force watched over and protected you.
At least, it had been. Until the Sith invaded.
Now, Coruscant was a dark and wretched parody of it’s former self. There was nothing beautiful about the towering spires that clawed the sky from atop the Imperial palace built in Darth Nefarius’ name. There was nothing peaceful about the streets that were patrolled by soldiers and Sith Knights. No-one felt safe or content anymore.
The gleaming white perfection of the one time galactic hub was now blackened and twisted. Rome had not only fallen. It was aflame, and crying out to be saved.
And for every man, woman or child that rose against the oppressive and corrupt Sith, ten more betrayed them, saving their own skins at the price of their friends, their family and the people they loved…
And no-one came to the rescue. No timely intervention plucked the ravaged world from the jaws of the Sith.
No-one had come to this worlds aid. Not yet anyway.
***
Rogal Natharn, a man who as far as he was concerned, was nothing special. He was no legendary leader, or astounding general. He might be able to command a fleet, but not in a real war.
No, he was just one man. Which was why the other’s around him were so important. They were what made him strong. The hundreds of men and women that made what they were doing here even possible. Loyal to the core and unflinching in their duty.
They were only human, or wookie or any number of other species, but they were prime examples of their kind, each and every one of them, and Rogal was proud to know them, proud to have served alongside such stellar examples of courage and nobility.
But there were seven that stood out above even the others. Seven who were more crucial than any other factor in the entire plan.
The first of these, stood at Rogal’s right side was a blind man. Just taller than he, the blind man was swathed in dark colours, with a bandage covering his hideously scarred eyes. Hauron Kisaragi was Rogal’s best friend, and would fight at his side till the very end.
Further away, and sat at a large table was a man that Rogal could only describe as a pirate. Honourable, but deadly. This one draped in dark scarlet, with a long flowing cape, and a golden claw. He was an oddity, but another man with steel for a backbone. Vàli Valtiere was his name, and though Rogal thought there was something odd about that hip-flask, he trusted him deeply.
The others were all nearby, somewhere on the ship, though Rogal knew not where. Undoubtedly some were together, Dak Grenlar and Skyu Lon, probably were. The two were companions of old, hailing from the same planet. One a monk, and the other a soldier, both were powerful figures. Rogal was certainly glad both fought on his side. Though he and Dak were not exactly best friends, he would trust Skyu with his life and had in the past. He only hoped they felt the same way.
And finally, the last three. Martien Delphey, Smailliw Nollaf and Deven Jarmain were all member of the mysterious Omega Cell, an organization that fought a secret war against the Sith. All three were just as dedicated to fighting the Sith as he was, if not more, and that alone made them powerful. However, that’s not to say that they lacked other strength. Each of the three was a valuable addition to a considerable force.
There were others that were meant to be here, but had yet to show up. Rogal was disappointed, as they were just as important as the rest. Quill Arridus and Rejik Nupaq were to bring a large force, and their own considerable skills, and Rogal was nervous about the fact they had not turned up. Either they had lost interest, which he doubted, they had turned on the cause, which he again doubted or… they had met their end.
Not something he wished to dwell upon.
Tapping the simple earpiece that sat firmly on his head, he spoke firmly and slowly, so as not to betray the nerves that he could barely keep from causing his hands to shake.
“All personnel to your stations! Jump to hyperspace in forty five minutes, repeat, forty five. So, to our esteemed guests, unless you want to stay aboard or want to risk a shuttle jump afterward, you’ll want to think about returning to your ships.”
***
The Behemoth hung in space, in the special equivalent of the middle of nowhere. It was Rogal’s trump card, easily capable of fighting several ships alone and living to tell the tale. It was the only ship Rogal had brought to the party, but unusually for it, it was not alone.
Around it, for a good distance were other ships. Huge ships, and smaller ships. All preparing for what could be considered the riskiest move in a very long time. Risky was a word that would always go hand in hand with a fight, but if all went well, this would be a simple fight indeed.
Rogal was unsure of how many ships had gathered here, but the deadline he had given the leaders to gather their forces and arrive was nearing, less than an hour away now, though a sizeable force had mustered.
A countdown timer and co-ordinates had been broadcast to every commanding officer on every ship, and had duly been passed down to the officer in charge of the navigation station in most cases. The timing needed to be right and while perfect would be brilliant, Rogal would settle for right.
This would not be a simple exercise, that much was assured, and every single man, woman and alien knew that they could be headed for the end.
And as every ship ran their final checks and diagnostics, and every weapon was readied then cooled down once more, the timer steadily ticked away. Only thirty six minutes left.
Thirty six minutes until they attacked Coruscant. Thirty six minutes until the Sith received the rudest wake up call in history.
((Right, OOC again. At this point, I’d like my guys to post once each, and then we’ll go at my discretion. Again, I’d like to ask each of you to specify how many ships you’ve got, and that kind of thing. Also, you could include troop numbers, though I don’t think they’re going to count for as much as the ships are…))
The city world of Coruscant, the heart and soul of the Galactic Republic for hundreds, thousands of years. It’s entire surfaced covered in towering, gleaming buildings. It’s artificial beauty as alluring as anything nature could offer. It had always been a peaceful world, safe and relatively quiet. The streets of Coruscant had always been safe and as you walked them, it was as if a benevolent force watched over and protected you.
At least, it had been. Until the Sith invaded.
Now, Coruscant was a dark and wretched parody of it’s former self. There was nothing beautiful about the towering spires that clawed the sky from atop the Imperial palace built in Darth Nefarius’ name. There was nothing peaceful about the streets that were patrolled by soldiers and Sith Knights. No-one felt safe or content anymore.
The gleaming white perfection of the one time galactic hub was now blackened and twisted. Rome had not only fallen. It was aflame, and crying out to be saved.
And for every man, woman or child that rose against the oppressive and corrupt Sith, ten more betrayed them, saving their own skins at the price of their friends, their family and the people they loved…
And no-one came to the rescue. No timely intervention plucked the ravaged world from the jaws of the Sith.
No-one had come to this worlds aid. Not yet anyway.
***
Rogal Natharn, a man who as far as he was concerned, was nothing special. He was no legendary leader, or astounding general. He might be able to command a fleet, but not in a real war.
No, he was just one man. Which was why the other’s around him were so important. They were what made him strong. The hundreds of men and women that made what they were doing here even possible. Loyal to the core and unflinching in their duty.
They were only human, or wookie or any number of other species, but they were prime examples of their kind, each and every one of them, and Rogal was proud to know them, proud to have served alongside such stellar examples of courage and nobility.
But there were seven that stood out above even the others. Seven who were more crucial than any other factor in the entire plan.
The first of these, stood at Rogal’s right side was a blind man. Just taller than he, the blind man was swathed in dark colours, with a bandage covering his hideously scarred eyes. Hauron Kisaragi was Rogal’s best friend, and would fight at his side till the very end.
Further away, and sat at a large table was a man that Rogal could only describe as a pirate. Honourable, but deadly. This one draped in dark scarlet, with a long flowing cape, and a golden claw. He was an oddity, but another man with steel for a backbone. Vàli Valtiere was his name, and though Rogal thought there was something odd about that hip-flask, he trusted him deeply.
The others were all nearby, somewhere on the ship, though Rogal knew not where. Undoubtedly some were together, Dak Grenlar and Skyu Lon, probably were. The two were companions of old, hailing from the same planet. One a monk, and the other a soldier, both were powerful figures. Rogal was certainly glad both fought on his side. Though he and Dak were not exactly best friends, he would trust Skyu with his life and had in the past. He only hoped they felt the same way.
And finally, the last three. Martien Delphey, Smailliw Nollaf and Deven Jarmain were all member of the mysterious Omega Cell, an organization that fought a secret war against the Sith. All three were just as dedicated to fighting the Sith as he was, if not more, and that alone made them powerful. However, that’s not to say that they lacked other strength. Each of the three was a valuable addition to a considerable force.
There were others that were meant to be here, but had yet to show up. Rogal was disappointed, as they were just as important as the rest. Quill Arridus and Rejik Nupaq were to bring a large force, and their own considerable skills, and Rogal was nervous about the fact they had not turned up. Either they had lost interest, which he doubted, they had turned on the cause, which he again doubted or… they had met their end.
Not something he wished to dwell upon.
Tapping the simple earpiece that sat firmly on his head, he spoke firmly and slowly, so as not to betray the nerves that he could barely keep from causing his hands to shake.
“All personnel to your stations! Jump to hyperspace in forty five minutes, repeat, forty five. So, to our esteemed guests, unless you want to stay aboard or want to risk a shuttle jump afterward, you’ll want to think about returning to your ships.”
***
The Behemoth hung in space, in the special equivalent of the middle of nowhere. It was Rogal’s trump card, easily capable of fighting several ships alone and living to tell the tale. It was the only ship Rogal had brought to the party, but unusually for it, it was not alone.
Around it, for a good distance were other ships. Huge ships, and smaller ships. All preparing for what could be considered the riskiest move in a very long time. Risky was a word that would always go hand in hand with a fight, but if all went well, this would be a simple fight indeed.
Rogal was unsure of how many ships had gathered here, but the deadline he had given the leaders to gather their forces and arrive was nearing, less than an hour away now, though a sizeable force had mustered.
A countdown timer and co-ordinates had been broadcast to every commanding officer on every ship, and had duly been passed down to the officer in charge of the navigation station in most cases. The timing needed to be right and while perfect would be brilliant, Rogal would settle for right.
This would not be a simple exercise, that much was assured, and every single man, woman and alien knew that they could be headed for the end.
And as every ship ran their final checks and diagnostics, and every weapon was readied then cooled down once more, the timer steadily ticked away. Only thirty six minutes left.
Thirty six minutes until they attacked Coruscant. Thirty six minutes until the Sith received the rudest wake up call in history.
((Right, OOC again. At this point, I’d like my guys to post once each, and then we’ll go at my discretion. Again, I’d like to ask each of you to specify how many ships you’ve got, and that kind of thing. Also, you could include troop numbers, though I don’t think they’re going to count for as much as the ships are…))