HeySeuss

Spiritum - Reborn

The town got chillier by night, but that was sort of expected of an arid sort of place, without humidity in the air to trap the heat. Luckily, they had Vorslav winter coats on. They had enough alcohol to not really worry about the chill in the air. While there were neon lights nearby, it didn't interfere that badly with the stars. Gideon had a plan to do what Galahad suggested and climb up somewhere and camp that way. However, clouds moved in, the high up kind one found in more arid climates, but that didn't dampen Gideon's enthusiasm to sleep out.

"Barghest Cafe; start your morning with a howl," Gideon deadpanned, in response to the others. The news radio blared on about peace talks this, arrival that. He lent an ear to it without really paying close attention, but it sounded like a slow grind out there. So far, careful use of fire support, avoiding lots of damage. The Vangars wanted their prize intact and were paying a price for the gains they made. The Rassvet Defense Forces were giving, considering a gross imbalance of firepower, a lot, but were always being pushed back. They were giving a couple thousand meters instead of a lot of ground, but they were being pushed back all the same.

WARDEN was expected to make up a lot of the difference here, plugging gaps, covering retreats, mounting forlorn hope assaults at the spearhead.

It still wasn't enough. And it was depressing. The fuckers can't even do a truce while they talk peace, he thought to himself, instead of burdening his companions with his bleak outlook on the course of this war. He believed in his country, but his gut told him something else. He could tell from other expressions that the radio was quickly killing buzzes. This was supposed to be their only chance at a normal existence, and it would be over soon. Gideon knew his orders and they were for Cockatrice Squad, attached to the 12th Royal Infantry Regiment. He'd be an individual replacement, working in someone else's platoon. A new face, not trusted and resented for taking someone else's place.

And so he engaged into the conversation with more gusto, tuning out the radio until someone mercifully tuned it out.

"We can sling espresso after the war, as a front for arms smuggling," he told them as he took another bottle of beer and popped it open with a multi-tool. They had enough practice in illicit activity at the Citadel, "That is to say, Kat will can run the real operation with minimal technical assistance. The rest of us will be baristas. Our training will make us fully capable of handling any caffeine deprived yuppie, including heavily armed ones that are about to snap."

He was mid-sip when he heard the crunch of boots on the ground. He tamped down the initial reaction down to glancing over, which was pretty muted for a guy that just got out of ten years of military training.

"Good evenin' there, wanted to check up on you young travelers, make sure all was well!" called out a voice from about twenty meters away. Silhouette in the darkness was a fellow in a wide-brimmed hat, but otherwise uniformed like a Rassvet army regular, though the uniform was flat khaki rather than camouflage. There was the sword and the rune, but on a shield. Marshalls.

"Good evening, Marshall," Gideon called out, "What brings you out here by night?"

"Well, there's a war on out here, and orders have it that it's my job to check up on anything unusual. So a bunch of young folks like you looking like you just left the Citadel..." he shrugged, "Well, you know." The fellow was substantial, even beefy, but there was a glint under the hat. The guy was being cautious, out here on his own. Gideon couldn't see any obvious backup, which didn't quite make sense. This one sounded older than that, which is probably why he wasn't stripped off his regional posting...yet.

Gideon nodded, "You need to check papers then?"

"Yeah, sure do. Just one of you will do, I don't see the point of running all y'all if it checks out."

"Not a problem," Gideon told him, as he got up, motioning the others down. As he stepped forward, deliberately and slowly, he caught the rifleman's position, and knew that this guy was brains and balls. He called one over to check them, but played it safe. The guy with the gun at the ready would have been able to lay down the fire if there was trouble. They wouldn’t be able to swarm the guy doing the talking.

He could respect the tactics.

Aware that the situation was not a heightened tension thing, but mindful of the weapon, he was slow to reach into a pocket, just so the man could see the motion. After all, it was wartime, and there was a heightened security tension. He walked over slowly and handed those over from arm's length, so the man could peruse them with a flashlight.

"Says here Third Class, correct? So what's a bunch of WARDEN types doing out here?" In Rassvet, a police state, they were expected to show ID, papers, and endure a check. This fellow, out in the boonies a bit, was at least a little more common sense and friendly in his approach. Around Orestia, these guys acted like they were on the front lines already, and that everyone was a spy.

"Graduation, peace talks and a short leave before we head out. We're set to head out from here and hike. One last tour of the auld sod."

The man grunted and read off the ID number on Gideon's papers, along with a photo ID and description, in some sort of spoken code, got some sort of response in the earpiece, and then handed papers back, "No problem, young man. You check out. Sorry about...things, but we're not a big detachment and we gotta be careful in these parts."

Gideon shrugged, "It's your ass to preserve and protect."

The man laughed out loud, "You're goddamn right about that. Well, look, y'all have a good night now, y'hea..."

And that's when the fire lit up the sky, a glow from above the clouds, flickering through them.

Soviet Amerika - Red Dawn-Inspired Alternate History

I might join this roleplay if I have any time. That is if you are accepting new people.

@Star Lord

With all due respect, we're rolling with what we have.

Soviet Amerika - Red Dawn-Inspired Alternate History

I agree with resurrecting the RP, and I am on board with making it happen. Since my other RP's are at a steady pace, I'm down with simply getting the posting done. I'll have to review the RP (luckily, I didn't delete the discord so we have the plot notes) and work from there.

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

Fun fact: Mandalorians brought in by Jango Fett trained Republican Commandos. Other fun fact: Old Man Resol was Cuy'val Dar, one of those trainers.

An observer familiar with the operational procedures of Republic Commandos could see hallmarks of that training as they cleared room to room, as they stacked and then entered, and forced the Stormtroopers to fight disadvantageously in the corridors against a foe that had more armor, and the advantage of finely-honed skills. In a small space, numbers and firepower mattered less because it was chokepoints. The Sultana's villa was a place where the rulers of Tengaru relaxed by the river, enjoying the city lights by night. It was built to be cool in the summer, and save on air conditioning.

Using the map markers and other navigational aids on his HUD, Voshno was the second one through most of these doors, clearing ahead after the Barabel took down whatever was in the corner. They made good time, even as they heard the scream overhead of a TIE fighter raining down on the Rebel positions, a visceral reminder of tick-tock.

Resol never really bonded with the Clones, and didn't feel much for the white jobs here either, who were probably the Spaarti-grown variety and other 'sources' of recruits. That was a job, a very well paid one, and the Republic didn't really matter to him. This was different, his boys were a varied bunch, but vode an all the same. The anti-nonhuman prejudices of the Empire fell flat here, because even a Clone Commando or an ARC trooper would have a hard time resisting a Barabel that happened to be a Mando Boy, chopping at them with a blade. The Nautolan's naturally agile frame was tuned to a new standard under the harsh tutelage of the Mandalorian way. The two humans lads chose their purpose as surely as anyone else did.

And that was what gave them the edge over these stormtroopers.

Along with superior marksmanship.

When they transitioned into the part of the palace with the panic room, they came into a hall, an indoor garden with flowers, bushes, leafy vines lovingly cultivated along anything they'd grow up, which was just about the whole room. It beautiful gold-veined stone floor, polished lovingly and just waiting for a party. Fancyness, a place to host balls and receptions. It had a skylight overhead, to bring sunlight down on the crystals. Here, the architecture certainly opened up.

So did the white jobs, with emplaced E-Webs.

They dove for cover, even as Resol gave curt orders, in Mando'a, "Javi, engage 10. Voshno, engage 2." Bearings, directions on the clocks, "Kast, start a fire. Roak, with me son," he said as the old man slammed to the ground and got on one knee behind the cover of a planter, a sprinter's pose. He wasn't in his prime anymore, but he was a long and lean guy, a runner and the muscles remembered.

It wasn't the party the room was built for; it was the party the room got.

First Contact in the Situation Room

"There's no way to stop the Swedes now, they know more than we do at this point. Exchange of information is a necessity here anyway, bottom line." In a planetary crisis, or impending one, Mike was thinking essentially of the idea that national agendas were less important, but he'd always been an internationalist. However, the political chaos leading up to consensus was a thing that he was keen to manage. They had no idea when they'd be doing more than talking to a seemingly-automated probe, but they knew it was coming. It could be a century or more, or it could be tomorrow.

"The alien agenda at this juncture is hard to gauge on the basis of that communication, but we should be prepared for any number of scenarios," He almost referenced "To Serve Man" but realized that someone would leak that and create chaos in the press. It was a controversial story right now, and in an era of heightened fear, he didn't want to add fuel to that fire.

So Mike Gerard did the smart thing and sipped his coffee in order to gain a moment to phrase a reply, rather than just respond.

The public conversation was already influenced by sci-fi reading; Mike never thought he'd be reading sci-fi books in this job, but he'd had a few revelations courtesy of reading for something besides entertainment. A couple of these novels discussed the impact of inability to communicate and how that touched off tragedies. "We will need to feel out a even a friendly contact very carefully. I think the Russians will appreciate that mindset," he added without mentioning the Yeltsin years. The dissolution of the old Soviet order gave rise to something less than promised and the Russians were wary of a game changer now, "But if I were asking questions of that probe, I'd want to know a ballpark on travel time. If the probe is sticking to technical topics, then we should query about interstellar travel times, perhaps even ask it how it got here so quickly, and how quickly the probe's information will get back to the other side."

The President nodded at Mike, but then glanced over the table and then back to Bill, his coffee untouched, "Well, this is what you get for double-dipping, Bill," he said wryly, "How do you feel about convincing the Swedes to broker this information to the Russians through us? Also, I want to suggest to our friends in Sweden that our priority is to obtain data and that we are willing to combine resources on a joint scientific task force to that effect -- we should have a sit down with Dr. Feinberg," director of the National Science Foundation, "and Bob Gordon," NASA director, "and figure out what to propose to the Swedes in terms of collaboration."

"Any thoughts on that, Bridgette? I think Bill should keep the dialogue going with Russia, but I think you might need to take a plane trip to Sweden." AJ's intent here was obvious, rapprochement between Scandinavia, close to the Baltic states and wary, and Russia, which was scared shitless like the rest of them. And, calculating it, he knew that sending a woman leader to spearhead would play over well in that region.

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

@Naril has an approved character and I owe you guys a post.

Spiritum - Reborn

I misinterpreted the use of Discord. So now I'm back :)

@vietmyke Also finished the sheet for review. Let me know if there is anything I need to change.

@Hashih

Hello, we all reviewed the sheet and you're good to go.

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

@Dusty@ReusableSword@vietmyke@webboysurf - First post is up.

Incidentally, as discussed, they are exfiltrating with the aforementioned boats, modified for AA work against TIE fighters and other pursuit from the air. But they made sure the guns can depress down and engage targets at lower altitude too... :)

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

Odds

---

The first time Voshno ever visited Ghala, and he was stuck under a tarp. He was a Tengaran country boy all the way through.

Ghala was the jewel of Tengaru, a balmy place where vacationers from other places came to enjoy themselves. For the adventurous, there were the wild lowland jungles and higher, cooler altitudes, but always the trees and the vibrant slashes of wildflowers, in a riotous array of colors as the green was shot through with a dizzying array of shades. Bisecting this greenery were the waterways. The waters were often of crystalline purity in the lakes, which were the size of small seas, though muddier in the jungles themselves. Further up from the equator, the soil turned to clay and the land was still crossed with rivers, estuaries and lakes, where it was more tall grass, rather than lush rainforest.

As a result, Tengaru did not bother with building roads, except in towns and cities. The transport system used what already was there, all that water. That was their highway system.

In better times, Ghala would have beings sipping all sorts of drinks on sidewalks and enjoying the balmy pace of life. But they resisted their occupation strongly and the Empire responded with increasingly harsh measures to protest, which turned into insurgency and moved from the University centers out to the countryside where the farmers and the fishermen became the backbone of the fighting.

But Ghala still had its guerrilla cells, and these were active in the last few days at the behest of an Alliance Intelligence controller that made patient contact with the local organization, not terribly impressed with the conduct of the 43rd Alliance Regiment's lack of urgency about actually fighting the war.

She said the magic words: Iron Masks.

The city-fighters of Ghala were experienced and wary, and had been cadre'd by experienced Tengaran gendarmes and criminals that knew their city. They were able to procure the required equipment and promise their support. Snipers, surveillance, explosives and streetfighters. But they were not the ones that would break into the Sultana's manor.

Teams of guerrillas would hit the position with explosives and high volume heavy blaster fire. The assault would be timed with a volume of fire against Imperial positions and a purloined Imperial vehicle, outfitted as a ram with explosives to crash the compound, which lay by the water. If they could breach, they would. And they would support the rescue team as much as possible. But they expected to be stopped cold, because they were hitting a company of Imperial Storm Troopers.

The real assault element was the rescue team was hidden under a tarp in the bed of an ostensibly civilian vehicle, the sort of speeder truck that saw less use outside of Tengaru's cities than on most planets, but were still commonplace. Five beings in armor with the t-shaped visors, one Twi'lek in a uniform for a food delivery service, making for the delivery dock near the kitchens. Theoretically, they'd get checked if they made it all the way there, but that wasn't the point here.

Voshno did not like jetpacks, but the truth was that no one expected guerrillas to just jump the fence. It was not in Rebel doctrine to use jet packs. And even Resol Squad rarely used them in their months as a lowland jungle raiding unit that inflicted casualties, kidnapped officers and stole equipment, out in the hinterlands, but never really got to use the jetpacks in combat. Surprise doom for the Imperials.

That wasn't the original plan, but Hadaj had to improvise. When the SpecForces task force en route was intercepted by the Empire in a bad luck situation, she found the answer to her 'specialized strike troop' problem, after realizing that Jest wouldn't merely mind losing them, he'd welcome it. And unlike Colonel Jest, when Old Man Resol told her the best way in was with jetpacks, she took the grizzled bounty hunter and mercenary's advice to heart.

The asset inside, GRIEVOUS, had a small group of dedicated infiltrators, locals with well-hidden loyalty to the Sultana, ready to get her into a safe room when they got the signal. That would give them time to prevent an execution and give them the window they needed to clear a way to her. These were palace staff, they would not last long in a fight and these people knew their odds. Without their supreme bravery, there would be no op.

Hadaj had a good plan, that was what Old Man Resol said to his boys. Those people inside were giving their lives, more than likely, to get their ruler to that safe room. Make it count.

Voshno had some residual loyalties to Tengaru and the Rebel Alliance, but he was a Mando Boy now. He knew what this war felt like from the day he found his family's farm done in, he and Grin. His brother died in his arms, a burned out hole in his chest. He was not usually the one that had the battle lust out of the squad, but the anticipation had him shivering a bit in his armor as he waited for the word. The speeder truck glided over the cobblestones of the street, its occupants keeping all suit systems turned down as much as possible so as to not be picked up on a scan. Still, they had macros set in the microcomps they all ran that would bring it all to life with the signal, slaved to Resol's signal.

When the signal chirped, the fire started. Moments later, the tarp was ripped off the truck and the Mandos launched themselves over the fence, coming down with blaster fire and already charging across as the guerrillas soaked up the casualties of engaging the white jobs. All around, there was a world of fire, but that was the world Mando'ade inhabited.

Old Man Resol, who should have been slowing down, showed none of that as he sprinted ahead while others covered, and then covered them as they moved through a sculpted garden with high hedges and stone benches, and into the kitchens of the Manor. Long months of conditioning the Mando way, with assault courses and killhouses, raid after raid after that, sharpened them to the point where even the Barabel moved nearly as fluidly as the Nautolan, as they covered angles. But they generally held fire, because the point wasn't to seek out Imperials to kill, however much as they might want it. They only engaged the ones that spotted them, staying on the move.

That didn't mean a stormtrooper or two didn't get in the way, but they were mowed down with volume of fire. There were Tengaran Royal Guard, but that corps had been purged of loyalists. The ones that got in the way were subject to the same treatment by the insurgents out there, some of whom were former members of that corps as well -- they'd briefed the snipers well on how to identify the officers, which added to the confusion as beings screamed out. The smuggled-in firepower, repeating blasters, E-webs and other, allowed the guerrillas that few minutes or so of superior firepower before the Imperials could mobilize true fire support.

Those guerrillas also knew their odds. They were engaging the Imperials in a stand up fight in Ghala, something they avoided for a long time, because they reckoned the prize worth it. They were buying Resol a way in and would pay the price; time favored the Empire.

Resol Squad had nav waypoints to work off of that would show them primary, alternate and tertiary routes to the safe room. They could hear the blaster fire and grenades echoing in the jasper-veined stone corridors of the Sultana's residence, and that was where they were headed. The staff not in on the caper took one look at the armored forms of Mandalorian warriors and didn't stop to think, "How did that happen?" but instead opted for the instinctive response. Confronted by armored, heavily armed warriors, they got out of the kriffing way.

Resol'nare - How the Mando Boys (and Girls) Won the War [Star Wars]

@HeySeuss I'm not going to hold you up, so I'll pull out before you pick any steam up; best if luck with this though, and I'll certainly keep an eye on it.

@Jbcool

Thanks, much appreciated.