Marvellous! Bubbakrieg in space! (Yes, that's an old concept for invasion by pickup truck devised back in Conroe, TX while drunk.)
HeySeuss Member
DJ Hot Carl
- Last Seen: 7 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
Hot dogs are already cooked. Might as well just sear them to add flavor.
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9 yrs ago
I love it when I catch up on my posting.
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9 yrs ago
If you take college seriously, it opens doors. Harvard and Hopkins makes it easier, but you can do well anywhere.
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9 yrs ago
Prefer to brainstorm on Discord for that reason.
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9 yrs ago
Windows 10 is very much like a German prison camp guard, "Ah, I see you are tryink to escape work fifteen minutes early, Herr Colonel Hogan, here ist an update zat vill stall you!"
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Blind Spots
Besk was moving with the rest of his assault element, half of Mir'osik and Shabuir, toward Selas' location. Dislike the idea of a jedi or a wannabe as he did, she'd done her job and wasn't going to fare well cut off for much longer, "Do your best to hold position, specialist, we're on the way to you." They moved with assurance, stacking up and then moving out again in room-to-room sweeps. They checked blind spots, cleared the corridors and moved to the next bulkhead. Wash, rinse, repeat. They were suited up in Alliance Marine battlearmor, acknowledging the reality of boarding ops; loss of atmosphere was the worst. It wasn't as protective as Stormtrooper armor, but it was also more agile, made for SpecForces.
The disruptor bucked hard in his hands, nothing like a blaster, but it was powerful and devastating in the tight confines of the white-washed corridors. That wasn't made for SpecForces. That was purely illegal fringe weaponry, brutal and mean. The favored weapon of the Hutt Cartels and other factions that didn't give a damn for civilized norms of warfare it had a very distinctive sound. A brutal weapon, for a less civilized time.
Besk drilled his men in this sort of fighting in anticipation of this sort of operation coming down sooner or later, as the Alliance was fleet based. Some of them had been to Drop Camp and SpecForces Marine training, but Besk was a veteran of the Clone Wars. Chakaar didn't get much out of Anaxes; they had to lay up and call down fire support. This time, they were at the tip of the spear. Some of these were Rebel troopers, believers, and others were bounty hunters.
In other parts of the ship, he could hear the blast of sonic grenades, that unique buzz, and they certainly were being hit with the feedback of it as they moved in deeper.
The resistance wasn't ready for that kind of synchronicity and precision; muscle memory carried them through this series of engagements. Presence of mind allowed him to keep up with the progress of other elements as he gave the occasional directive, but without overloading the comms.
Besk was getting on, but he still had the Jango reflexes and less to lose than most.
But even the violence of action and precision of the assault was held up when they came to a corridor that was saturated with flames, between them and the power plant, or Selas' position. Some smart pirate had flushed something flammable into the corridor and lit a match, making the whole corridor impassible -- not hot enough to melt bulkheads, but definitely hot enough to crisp his men. He gave the signal for the others to hold while he got on the comms.
"Specialist, we have an obstacle. I'm patching the camera feed from my helmet over to you. I am marking fire control stations and airlocks on your map," it helped that he knew Venators first hand, "I need a solution as soon as possible."
Besk was moving with the rest of his assault element, half of Mir'osik and Shabuir, toward Selas' location. Dislike the idea of a jedi or a wannabe as he did, she'd done her job and wasn't going to fare well cut off for much longer, "Do your best to hold position, specialist, we're on the way to you." They moved with assurance, stacking up and then moving out again in room-to-room sweeps. They checked blind spots, cleared the corridors and moved to the next bulkhead. Wash, rinse, repeat. They were suited up in Alliance Marine battlearmor, acknowledging the reality of boarding ops; loss of atmosphere was the worst. It wasn't as protective as Stormtrooper armor, but it was also more agile, made for SpecForces.
The disruptor bucked hard in his hands, nothing like a blaster, but it was powerful and devastating in the tight confines of the white-washed corridors. That wasn't made for SpecForces. That was purely illegal fringe weaponry, brutal and mean. The favored weapon of the Hutt Cartels and other factions that didn't give a damn for civilized norms of warfare it had a very distinctive sound. A brutal weapon, for a less civilized time.
Besk drilled his men in this sort of fighting in anticipation of this sort of operation coming down sooner or later, as the Alliance was fleet based. Some of them had been to Drop Camp and SpecForces Marine training, but Besk was a veteran of the Clone Wars. Chakaar didn't get much out of Anaxes; they had to lay up and call down fire support. This time, they were at the tip of the spear. Some of these were Rebel troopers, believers, and others were bounty hunters.
In other parts of the ship, he could hear the blast of sonic grenades, that unique buzz, and they certainly were being hit with the feedback of it as they moved in deeper.
The resistance wasn't ready for that kind of synchronicity and precision; muscle memory carried them through this series of engagements. Presence of mind allowed him to keep up with the progress of other elements as he gave the occasional directive, but without overloading the comms.
Besk was getting on, but he still had the Jango reflexes and less to lose than most.
But even the violence of action and precision of the assault was held up when they came to a corridor that was saturated with flames, between them and the power plant, or Selas' position. Some smart pirate had flushed something flammable into the corridor and lit a match, making the whole corridor impassible -- not hot enough to melt bulkheads, but definitely hot enough to crisp his men. He gave the signal for the others to hold while he got on the comms.
"Specialist, we have an obstacle. I'm patching the camera feed from my helmet over to you. I am marking fire control stations and airlocks on your map," it helped that he knew Venators first hand, "I need a solution as soon as possible."
Hey @HeySeuss, just wondering if there was any specific section you wanted to go to the different objectives? Just figured I'd ask to coordinate, rather than like both Shabuir and Chain-Breaker both going to the bridge.
Pick your spot, man!
"Gizka." If that were an answer to Selas, that was cryptic, but the team knew what that meant -- game was up, and they were in for it.
What happened now, of course, was that the weapons on the Laarties came up, fast, straining the generators. These weren't entirely clone-wars vintage. The modification to make the power systems quick-fire was done on the needs to have the ships activate fast and be guns ready in an instant, something the clones learned to do in certain units in order to react to situations. It wasn't easy on the generators, but the Alliance techs could deal with that later. What was important was that the blasters were up fast as soon as they could be and were already firing; the Moff's men might be that ready to do hair-trigger violence, in which case it was a standoff and firepower would determine.
But if surprise -did- work, then there was the added crucial moments where sonic grenades were thrown, where the clankers suddenly activated and started deploying in their methodical way. The place erupted in fire from the Laarties and the SpecForces troops in the Laarties. Beam lasers and disruptors, and droid blasters.
"Droids, secure this hangar." He didn't even bother to acknowledge the 'roger-roger.' He couldn't stand the things after all this time, but they'd soak up blaster bolts meant for his men.
He hated wearing the ARC outfit, it felt entirely conspicuous, but there was no time, "The rest, get in those damned corridors and take targets." Engineering and Bridge, one detachment to stay and hold the hangar with the clankers until the infantry got in.
What happened now, of course, was that the weapons on the Laarties came up, fast, straining the generators. These weren't entirely clone-wars vintage. The modification to make the power systems quick-fire was done on the needs to have the ships activate fast and be guns ready in an instant, something the clones learned to do in certain units in order to react to situations. It wasn't easy on the generators, but the Alliance techs could deal with that later. What was important was that the blasters were up fast as soon as they could be and were already firing; the Moff's men might be that ready to do hair-trigger violence, in which case it was a standoff and firepower would determine.
But if surprise -did- work, then there was the added crucial moments where sonic grenades were thrown, where the clankers suddenly activated and started deploying in their methodical way. The place erupted in fire from the Laarties and the SpecForces troops in the Laarties. Beam lasers and disruptors, and droid blasters.
"Droids, secure this hangar." He didn't even bother to acknowledge the 'roger-roger.' He couldn't stand the things after all this time, but they'd soak up blaster bolts meant for his men.
He hated wearing the ARC outfit, it felt entirely conspicuous, but there was no time, "The rest, get in those damned corridors and take targets." Engineering and Bridge, one detachment to stay and hold the hangar with the clankers until the infantry got in.
@HeySeuss did you still want to collab, or shall we just go about doing our own thing?
Sure, will be chilling this weekend.
No worries on when you get to post. I am not a picky person and this weekend I am busy Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.
I don't know that you need to post it but will let you decide that obviously.
Been in a bit of a situation with work health and the rest. Intend to be around this weekend to write, though. Sorry about the slight disappearance.
He hated Laarty drops. There was always something to them that said "meat to the slaughter" to him. It was all a little too nostalgic, with white-painted armor and an ARC helmet under his arm, playing dress up like a fossil or piece of living history that he didn't feel. He even had the sabre jockey in there, green as grass and brim-full with idealism. He hated the idea that history was repeating itself, even though this kriffing moff would absolutely love it all. Barve. He remembered all too well the shudder of the drives and the whine of the engine, holding on to a strap with his legs straddled just so, anticipating the movements like the old days.
This one had a cargo, but it was droids, and a couple other SpecForces troopers dressed like scuzzy fringe junk merchants, which wasn't really hard -- dress for Nar Shaddaa. Spacer pants, boots, jacket, blaster, blaster and maybe paint the hair a shocking bright color. The other one was sealed tight with a bunch of commando types. The Moff might want to inspect a Laarty, this would be the one.
Of course, the plan involved him doing the talking, the bastard would be all over that. Besk felt that this was too much like working in Intelligence -- of course, if Intelligence had a clone, he would have found a way to choke the right officer until he unclenched his cheeks and squatted the clone out and then -he- would be wearing the ARC getup to give some Moff with a fetish for a war he didn't fight his jollies while Besk stuck to what he did.
It just felt too polished and gleaming and, dare he say, hero-posing for a galaxy that had the ideals kicked out of it in the Dark Times. They were under the triangular shadow of the Venator, which itself was the dull grey of the Imperial Navy, lacking color and in itself a potent symbol but not one the Empire preferred. He'd had a lot of the idealism beaten out of him. He followed an emotional gizka-hole into the Rebellion chasing after the old times and found himself embroiled in what he knew were his last battles, spending himself strategically because he knew no better way to contribute to the galactic whole.
As the LAATs door opened, the mercenaries all raised their weapons before lowering them. They weren’t sure what to expect, though the gleaming white armour of a… clone trooper? Wasn’t exactly what they were expecting, nor were the old droids that were in their ‘offline’ configuration. The only reason the mercenaries really knew what the droids were was due to the fact that their ‘boss’ was so interested in clone wars era relics.
Without so much as a grunt, the besalisk put down a hologram emitter on the ground between them. With a characteristic hum the visage of the Governor appeared, blue with streaks running down it. The range on the holopad must have been extended to include the occupants in the LAAT as he paused for a minute as if to collect himself. “My, my. I didn’t know that I would be dealing with an trooper!” His eyes directed to the clones helmet. “Let alone an arc trooper! Tell me, before we start anything else. What do you think of this museum in the honour of your former brothers?” The hologram raised its arms to indicate the ship.
“I realize I still need to have the hull painted, and am missing a couple of bits and pieces. Though Clone Wars technology is so hard to come by these days, what with most of it being picked up by the Rebel Alliance or mercenaries such as yourself. Though I must say, none of the other outfits I dealt with had an actual clone working for them. I say, would you be available to hire?”
“Depends on the job, Moff, you’d have to talk to my boss.” Usually, Besk made an attempt to be less conspicuous, but here the plan was to stand out as a clone. In most cases, he’d learned how to lose himself in a crowd and dress a certain way and add headgear to blunt the effect. It didn’t stop a really cunning person from not recognizing him. The moff, of course, was rendering him down to one of a large batch, a production run after a lifetime of existence where they sought meaning for themselves and, by this late stage, either found it or didn’t. Besk, of course, embraced that he was built to do something, but decided where and how to apply those prodigious abilities.
“It’s certainly a blast from the past.”
“Excellent. I may well do that, once this business is concluded first.” The hologram waved his hands at one of the guards, who carried forth a container full of credits. “I have the agreed price here for you, feel free to inspect it, that said we shall wait for the Juggernaut to be brought aboard before anything exchanges hands. In the meantime-” He turned, his voice mouthing words that didn’t transmit as he was facing someone outside of the hologram.
He looked back a the delegation again, whatever he had been told was giving him serious pause as he considered something. “-I am afraid I was going to offer you a tour, but I am required urgently elsewhere. So if you could please have the Juggernaut brought aboard as soon as possible, we can exchange funds and be done with this.”
"Copy that." Clone sarcasm, as Besk keyed in the 'go' code to Keep. Now the sabre-jockey had to see to her end of the business, "I'm sure you'll love the Juggernaut. It's a classic."
This one had a cargo, but it was droids, and a couple other SpecForces troopers dressed like scuzzy fringe junk merchants, which wasn't really hard -- dress for Nar Shaddaa. Spacer pants, boots, jacket, blaster, blaster and maybe paint the hair a shocking bright color. The other one was sealed tight with a bunch of commando types. The Moff might want to inspect a Laarty, this would be the one.
Of course, the plan involved him doing the talking, the bastard would be all over that. Besk felt that this was too much like working in Intelligence -- of course, if Intelligence had a clone, he would have found a way to choke the right officer until he unclenched his cheeks and squatted the clone out and then -he- would be wearing the ARC getup to give some Moff with a fetish for a war he didn't fight his jollies while Besk stuck to what he did.
It just felt too polished and gleaming and, dare he say, hero-posing for a galaxy that had the ideals kicked out of it in the Dark Times. They were under the triangular shadow of the Venator, which itself was the dull grey of the Imperial Navy, lacking color and in itself a potent symbol but not one the Empire preferred. He'd had a lot of the idealism beaten out of him. He followed an emotional gizka-hole into the Rebellion chasing after the old times and found himself embroiled in what he knew were his last battles, spending himself strategically because he knew no better way to contribute to the galactic whole.
As the LAATs door opened, the mercenaries all raised their weapons before lowering them. They weren’t sure what to expect, though the gleaming white armour of a… clone trooper? Wasn’t exactly what they were expecting, nor were the old droids that were in their ‘offline’ configuration. The only reason the mercenaries really knew what the droids were was due to the fact that their ‘boss’ was so interested in clone wars era relics.
Without so much as a grunt, the besalisk put down a hologram emitter on the ground between them. With a characteristic hum the visage of the Governor appeared, blue with streaks running down it. The range on the holopad must have been extended to include the occupants in the LAAT as he paused for a minute as if to collect himself. “My, my. I didn’t know that I would be dealing with an trooper!” His eyes directed to the clones helmet. “Let alone an arc trooper! Tell me, before we start anything else. What do you think of this museum in the honour of your former brothers?” The hologram raised its arms to indicate the ship.
“I realize I still need to have the hull painted, and am missing a couple of bits and pieces. Though Clone Wars technology is so hard to come by these days, what with most of it being picked up by the Rebel Alliance or mercenaries such as yourself. Though I must say, none of the other outfits I dealt with had an actual clone working for them. I say, would you be available to hire?”
“Depends on the job, Moff, you’d have to talk to my boss.” Usually, Besk made an attempt to be less conspicuous, but here the plan was to stand out as a clone. In most cases, he’d learned how to lose himself in a crowd and dress a certain way and add headgear to blunt the effect. It didn’t stop a really cunning person from not recognizing him. The moff, of course, was rendering him down to one of a large batch, a production run after a lifetime of existence where they sought meaning for themselves and, by this late stage, either found it or didn’t. Besk, of course, embraced that he was built to do something, but decided where and how to apply those prodigious abilities.
“It’s certainly a blast from the past.”
“Excellent. I may well do that, once this business is concluded first.” The hologram waved his hands at one of the guards, who carried forth a container full of credits. “I have the agreed price here for you, feel free to inspect it, that said we shall wait for the Juggernaut to be brought aboard before anything exchanges hands. In the meantime-” He turned, his voice mouthing words that didn’t transmit as he was facing someone outside of the hologram.
He looked back a the delegation again, whatever he had been told was giving him serious pause as he considered something. “-I am afraid I was going to offer you a tour, but I am required urgently elsewhere. So if you could please have the Juggernaut brought aboard as soon as possible, we can exchange funds and be done with this.”
"Copy that." Clone sarcasm, as Besk keyed in the 'go' code to Keep. Now the sabre-jockey had to see to her end of the business, "I'm sure you'll love the Juggernaut. It's a classic."
Started: 1/19/2017
1. 2312 - Kim Stanley Robinson
2. The Last Battle - Cornelius Ryan
3. Annals - Tacitus
4. Night - Elie Wiesel
5. Audacity - Jonathan Chait
6. Profiles in Courage - John F. Kennedy
7. Indestructable - John H. Bruning
8. Dereliction of Duty - H.R. McMaster
9. Norse Mythology - Neil Gaiman
10. Trust Me, I'm Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator - Ryan Holiday
11. The Devil's Birthday: The Bridges to Arnhem - Geoffrey Powell
12. Lockin - John Scalzi
And I have no idea what after that. Also no idea on target.
1. 2312 - Kim Stanley Robinson
2. The Last Battle - Cornelius Ryan
3. Annals - Tacitus
4. Night - Elie Wiesel
5. Audacity - Jonathan Chait
6. Profiles in Courage - John F. Kennedy
7. Indestructable - John H. Bruning
8. Dereliction of Duty - H.R. McMaster
9. Norse Mythology - Neil Gaiman
10. Trust Me, I'm Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator - Ryan Holiday
11. The Devil's Birthday: The Bridges to Arnhem - Geoffrey Powell
12. Lockin - John Scalzi
And I have no idea what after that. Also no idea on target.
Just so people know what's going on, @HeySeuss isn't feeling too hot right now. I'm giving him some time to recover, but for the sake of the RP I'll start the conflict on Saturday if he is unable too.
I'm good today. I will be working on it after lunch.
Been busy. Want to get something moving, but also super busy/super tired as work s getting intense right now.
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