Log:Sith Empire: Flood or Drought
Agents of the Sith Empire move to further put a pinch on the supply line and bring the Thyferran Resistance to heel. Their next target is a water filtration facility that supplies water to the western quadrant of Xucphra City and several neighbouring fields. A Resistance faction has rooted there and intend to fight, thus risking a dangerous water shortage resulting from the ensuing battle should they refuse to surrender.
Flood or Drought
OOC Date: August 19, 2022
Location: Outside Xucphra City, Thyferra
Participants: Xavier Harcourt (GM), Kye Keraz, Grafn Struss, Tamsin Cas, Sith Empire
-- Xavier --
"Scattered Thyferran Resistance forces have routed the First Order and took over the water treatment facility a little over a week ago." Donned in a medium-grade set of armour, Xavier is leaned up against a tree having a smoke while he runs through what amounts as a on-field debriefing. A hand casually fans the smoke away so that he has a better look of the water treatment plant in the near distance. "We've two separate forces securing the main roads in and out, so taking the complex itself will rest solely on us. Frankly, these insurgents have done half the work for us. Given the Sith Empire wants this facility and the First Order had entrenched some proper defenses. Defenses which the Resistance now lacks."
Brown eyes glance over towards the masked and robed form of a Sith Council member who is presenting the will of the Empire on this Hired Guns mission. "I understand failure is not an option," he nods to the dark-clothed figure then passes that nod to the other present, continuing to speak in that mish-mash accent of his. "Should we not succeed, the facility is to be rendered unusable by any means necessary. Ideally we hand this piece of territory over to the Sith Empire mostly functional, mind. We're not aiming to cripple the infrastructure wholesale, but the interlopers cannot be allowed to remain. Thus are the orders from above."
Two fingers, with a cigarette tucked between them, point vaguely skyward. Somewhere up there in the cold of space floats a fraction of the Sith Armada. And at its helm the fearsome Admiral dispatched to Thyferra to tie up the loose ends. Xavier pinches the cherry end of his cig then flicks it into the brush. "Let's earn a paycheck."
-- Kye --
A figure stands clad in a full set of void armor, his visor not displaying much of his identity. He's carrying a MandalTech/CCT W-35, flicking the safety off while he listens to the on-field debriefing. With faint nods throughout to Xavier's statement, he considers the events with some pause.
"Sounds like they've chosen to scare off the organized to make way for the disorganized. Well, that puts things into perspective." The figure, using a slight voice modulator thanks to the EVA side of his Voidsuit, then asks: "Any chance we know that the loved ones of the command personnel are nearby? We could turn this into a mostly bloodless coup if -- if we secure the right living assets. Then again, we might not have time for that. So, bloodshed it is."
Nodding again to the mission commander after being told to earn a paycheck, he sets his gaze to the landscape.
-- Grafn --
Grafn is suitably adorned in his void armour, with an old slugthrower rifle slung over his right shoulder. The jezzail-esque weapon was likely impressive a good while ago, though now it is at least a deadly thing of beauty compared to most weapons. Listening to Xavier, the old combat pilot nods and exhales a ragged breath of sorts as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a motion that sees that scraped armour creak a little. A glance is given to the Councillor, likewise a nod. "Well we should treat them something of a lesson eh?" That broad Coruscanti voice rings out as he casts his gaze off towards the prize, one hand idly patting the various pieces of explosive ordanance slung against his enviable physique. Frag grenades. Ion grenades. Even cryo grenades. And ammunition up the wazzoo! Unslinging his old rifle, Grafn stands tall and makes ready. "Can't have our generous employers hindered by these interlopers." With Kye's own addition, the prospect of bloodless wasn't something that even popped into his brandy-addled mind. It's a thought! And it's gone!
-- Tamsin --
"Failure is not an option. Neither is an excessive use of force which will render the facility unusable." Perhaps if this were some other Sith in some other time, the words which might have come out of the Councilor's helmet might have been 'No disintegrations', but this was not that time or world. That being said, the Councilor moved up to stand at the shoulder of one of the two Mark troopers that had accompanied them. "We move in quickly, and our first priority is to subdue the resistance. Do not give them any opportunity to destroy the facility. Given the current state of things, I have no doubt that denial of assets will be one of their responses to our incursion." The figure nodded to the mark, and the hired guns. And Xavier last of all. "Let us proceed." The comment from the helmed mercenary brought the mask around, "A useful idea, but only if it does not sacrifice the goal."
-- Xavier --
The A3-Northwest Water Treatment facility is still fully operational by the grace of the local engineers and workers who keep the pipes clear and the filtration systems online. These individuals can be spotted by the coal grey industrial jumpsuits with the bright yellow reflective strips. A stark contrast to the hodge podge of Resistance Fighters who are doing their level best to defend the compound from those whom they seized it from and those whom have demanded they give up and vacate.
The First Order's planetary defenses are too far-spread to retake the facility, and the Sith Empire never offers a chance to suffer twice. So it is to be war. Leading the group up to the main building, the black-haired man gestures for them to keep a slight distance.
"On the count of three. One." Xavier loudly slams a small detonation device atop the lock of the metal slab door, no doubt alerting those inside. No doubt doing so on purpose.
"Two." He all but punches the activation button and a red light begins to blink quickly. There is scuffled panic on the other side.
"Three!" The device pops loudly with a bang and a flash, breaking the mechanical lock and allowing Xavier to immediately kick it open with a heavy boot.
With the door bursting inwards, their entrance obscured by a thin veil of smoke for the gathered attackers to begin their siege. Inside, a scattered mess of Thyferran Resistance troops and facility engineers are scrambling for cover behind massive tanks of water, vaulting over huge pipes, and running across iron grate catwalks.
-- Kye --
"Alright, go time!" The visored individual's heavy pistol is brought to bear, aimed at the mass of Resistance troops, though understanding that this isn't some kind of pre-ordained battle, with anything remotely resembling politeness. He'll shoot first, maybe at the soldiers, so they can't shoot back, or with potshots at the engineers; given the mission parameters. Maybe it's brutal that he's going for full strength, but...
...the First Order deployed a fleet of planet-killing super star destroyers not too long ago, and the blood shed here are literally one drop in a very large and fathomless bottle. Maybe the Sith Empire will be different.
-- Grafn --
Grafn dashes in, oh the bulk of that Coruscanti rogue is like an old destroyer slowing hoving into view! A vast dreadnaught of Coruscanti heritage moving into position! Without even a though, the old fellow plucks a cryoban grenade from his belt, swipes his thumb across the activator and tosses it towards the scattering masses! This weapon is one of those that has been determined to be grotesque by several militaries, its use goes against all that is decent! And yet, Grafn flings it as idly as one might a discarded cigarillo. The weapon sails through the air...
Grafn ducks for cover as he throws and forgets, the arcing stick of death clattering, rolling, and exploding in a sea-foam coloured explosion of ice that engulfs several civilians and fighters. Nerve damage? Likely. Loss of limbs? Yeah probably. Grafn however doesn't much care, even as the frost creeps up vats and along pipes, sparkling beautifully as men and women scream in agony.
-- Tamsin --
The pop of the explosive, the bang of the application of boot to durasteel, and into the smoke that billowed out into the treatment facility, the snap-hiss of a crimson blade igniting. Out of the smoke and into the clearing came a figure dark on dark, hooded and helmed and moving at speed as the figure descended on the resistance fighters, blade flashing, traceries of light the last thing a trio of the fighters saw, before they saw nothing again. The bodies were give not even a tilt of the figure's ehad as the Councilor moved, avoiding the fallout of the cryoban grenade as they moved to engage their next targets. "Secure the facility." That was the mission, and the troopers moved in to support.
-- Xavier --
Xavier hangs back, allowing everyone to rush in first. Kye, Grafn, the cloaked Sith, then the pair of red-armoured Mark that serve them. Bringing up the rear, Xavier kicks backwards, catching the door and slamming it shut behind him. Just to showcase they mean business. Though the cryogrenade exploding, the blaster fire, and the swinging red lightsabe is a pretty good indication.
"They're here!" Someone is heard shrilling from further back. "Get word to the Commander!"
The room explodes into screams of all kinds.
"Trav! Trav, get out here!" "I just work here! Don't kill me!" "Why the hell aren't the security drones online?!" "Fire! Fire! We can't let them take the facility!" "Green squad isn't responding! Something's wrong!"
Workers are cowering under pipes, hugging their heads and trying desperately to not get hit in the crossfire. Soldiers are rolling around huge water tanks and equipment, opening fire at the group bursting in.
-- Kye --
For his part, Kye continues to shoot with the heavy pistol, but at this distance it seems as though the bolts fall just short of their marks. As they take positions behind cover, he'll take the advantage of his thermal shielding to advance and then flatten himself against some surface cover. With a resigned sigh, he holsters the W-35, instead opting for a different gun this time around. Quietly, he places his hand on the handle of another holstered gun â?? a modified S5.
-- Grafn --
With the Grafn-Greeting-Grenade merely ensuring a crisp and frosty bite to the air, Grafn himself unslings his old rifle and pops up to fire off two shots, each with a loud crack of powder and bullet! With each shot, a soldier falls to the ground dead, punched into the back as they retreated, and down they went one after the other. The sweet crack, crack of the rifle, and Grafn is eying the varied targets as smoke gently swirls from the end of his rifle. "Civilians! Stay down! And stay out of the way! We're here to rescue you!" The heroes!
-- Tamsin --
The robed figure continued through the facility, as though this were a dance that, perhaps, they had danced so often that they knew the steps without needing the music. They moved with precise grace, eliminating one of the soldiers and then another, the third managing to evade them as they moved behind a water tank. Ah, the failings of a mission whose first order was 'Do not destroy the facility.' But that seemed not to bother the Councilor at all, as they adjusted their trajectory, their voice coming up along the group's comms, "ET-1141, insruct your men to ensure that any communications besides our are jammed, and be alert for the presence of any security being activated."
-- Xavier --
It is quite a commotion within the building's cavernous interior as the daring and the cowardly -- workers and soldiers -- make for the exits while others remain either frozen in place or steadfastedly dedicated to the efforts. What is chaos and destruction for them is nothing more than a controlled, calculated takeover for the agents of the Sith Empire.
The Councillor's orders are answered immediately over the internal communications. <<"Copy, Councillor. Resistance presence on the western and southern roads have been subdued.">> Which is to say annihilated. <<"Securing and deploying a strike team to your location.">>
A the treatment plant, there isn't many left to return fire as the first line of defense has ben affectively shredded. Others have gotten to the doors and start to run out across the fields and towards the forests in the distance. Their fates, whether they meet any Sith Empire troopers, will be a mystery. For now.
But the Resistance has not given up and from above, the stomping of boots can be heard pounding the duresteel catwalks. Members of their Command chain have gathered with heavy-powered rifles, aiming downwards and preparing to open fire.
-- Kye --
From his cover, Kye manages to escape the notice of the defenders, thanks to The Councillor. He switches weapons, gripping tightly the modified S5 before leaning outward and shooting at the heavies above. All three shots miss the mark wide and he tries to stay behind cover once more, flattening against the wall.
-- Grafn --
Two shots are fired off towards the Thyferren Resistance, the bullets richoting off the soldier's armour as the smell of powder is only heightened by the weapons continued use! Grafn himself leans in against a series of pipes, steadying his aim for the next two shots that'll be fired off most likely. Glancing across at Kye as the yoof fires on upwards at the Republic intruders, the old Bantha Rider lets slip a baritone roar across the coms! "AHA! That's the spirit! Keep on firing lad!" And then with the Councillor vanshing... upwards... well there's a temptation to witness Sith greatness, and yet, Grafn stays frosty! Much like those frozen in paroxisms of agony from that earlier grenade.
-- Tamsin --
There was a positive, for the Councilor, to always being able to track the living in the Force. Perhaps not the way that one such as a Jedi might put the skill to use, but then, the dark robed figure was no Jedi, and they allowed the feeling of incoming opposition and the sound of weapons being brought to bear to guide their actions. "Eliminate the resistance. I will return." And then the robed figure leapt, further and farther than anyone humanly (were they a human? Who could say) should rightfully be allowed to do, coming up to the level of the railings near a cluster of the newly arrived enemy, the right hand not holding the saber reaching out to anchor them on the railing as their body flipped over, robed fluttering like the wings of some dark bird as they came down to their feet, blade already moving. One, and a second fell to the blade, their bodies pitched over the railing. As much for show to those below, perhaps, as to clear the walkway for the councilor to move.
-- Xavier --
Among those moving swiftly through the labyrinth of pipes and machinery, two red-armoured figures are stalking with rifles at the ready. Anyone that gets in their line of sight are fired upon and not even the injuries they sustain appear to be slowing them down. One stops, crimson stormtrooper helmet turning coldly towards an engineer hiding under a metal table. 'Eliminate the Resistance.' There is a heavy, fatalistic pause... then they continue onwards to open fire at a soldier who is rounding a large water tank.
"Fall back! To the rendezvous point!" One of the commanders above bellows to those bellow. "Go! We'll hold them off! The Resistance must endure!" Ironic he says this as two of his friends are literally cut into pieces by an angry, red beam of light. "You'll never take the planet," he hisses towards the robed figure now on the catwalk with them. "Never. You may kill us, but we'll keep coming. We will always defeat your kind!"
What had once smelled like cleansing chemicals and grease to lubricate the machines is now smelling of burnt ozone, gunpowder, and singed flesh. Bodies are tumbling into the reservoir, bobbing a bit before sinking below. The water fanning out in tendrils of red.
From ground level, over the loud banging of his slugthrower, Xavier calls up to the others. "How are you all doing?"
-- Kye --
As he was recovering from the cover the last time, he's strafed by a blaster bolt that burns through the light armor in his arm, leaving a nasty, bleeding wound on his pistol-holding limb.
In the crossfire fight for the dam, things start to get more intense when Resistance troops get bolstered by Republic stalwarts. The involvement of the Republic in this defense is made obvious. Kye curses under his breath; some of the New Republic people are friends, so he hopes they aren't here. But he's a mercenary, and shooting people is part of being a mercenary. He fires the Theed again - his trusty jet-black Theed, which somehow manages to make a bolt hit its mark, and he hisses in jubilee, even if the other two shots that he puts down fall short; in a way, he's helping suppress their enemies so the army can advance.
-- Grafn --
"Fire in the hole!" Well. More like Ice! Grafn momentarily slings his rifle low, plucks a grenade from the bandolier slung against his portly frame, thumbs the activation switch and tosses it towards the enemy! The grenade arcs beautifully, beeping, flashing, bouncing, skittering, and then exploding in a flash of sea-foam ice and sparkling crystals as the cold spreads in an instant! That beautiful flash of crisp ice and frosty breath inducing chill catching one of the soldiers, and Grafn is watching the scattered foe as he grasps another... why not.
-- Tamsin --
Was it some trick of the light? Some echo of the fog and smoke still swirling in the upper reaches of the facility from the door being brought low? Perhaps it was both of those things and neither, as the Councilor advanced, their normally quite spare figure seeming to loom, robes swirling, so large and so menacing that it was impossible for those on the catwalk on which they stood not to feel the pull of the Councilor's presence, the threat of that crimson blade that had already felled two of their number, "You should have bent the knee." And then they advanced, moving to engage as booted feet carried them into the fray. Perhaps some echo of the magic which had allowed the Councilor to jump from floor nearly to ceiling was in their movements as they advanced on the clustering command soldiers, using their desire to escape to their disadvantage as they cut down the three, allowing their bodies to pile up in front of whatever hatch they had intended to use for their escape. Now to complete the task. A shift of their helm allowed them to catch sight of the flash of another grwenade and the bodies falling into the water tanks. Clearly, better filtration was soon to be on the menu because foul water was no one's friend. Don't ask them how they knew that.
-- Xavier --
One, two, three. What remains of the facility's command troops fall to the blade of the Sith while below, their comrades are shot down or pinned to their cover. One dares to peek over the edge of the thick, huge pipe he is hiding behind only to see a flash of black and green before they are picked up off of their feet and flying backwards. Their body hits an empty tank with a loud, resonant GONNnNnNnGgG: the echoing noise following them down unto the watery depths. A few futile splashes then... nothing.
Xavier has tucked away his slugthrower into its holster and is lighting up a smoke, watching as what little remains of the holdouts start to flee. <"Councillor,"> he addresses over the comms rather than shouting this time. <"The stragglers are running towards the northern exit.">
His report in, he moisies over to one of the ice sculptures Grafn has made and taps on the frozen face of a horrified janitor. "Well done."
-- Kye --
As the troopers start retreating, Kye starts shooting in their wake, trying to take another of them down. They are liabilities and a source of intel for the enemy. If there's no one around to recognize him, surely he'll be safe. Rising to his feet, he holsters the Theed and presses the wound at his arm.
"Good job, everyone. I'll have some practice shooting to do in the future," or find some better sights. With a nod to Grafn, the latest mercenary of the bunch starts to retreat with them.
-- Grafn --
Grafn steps out from cover, thumbs the grenade within his hand and gives a most casual toss that bounces off a pipe, and skitters in a direction that wasn't planned, landing just short as it explodes, and thus it only catches two of the poor retreating soldiers. No warning given, just a plink of the grenade and that icy whooooosh as the deadly freezing agent erupts and casts its sparkling and gorgeous chill across the immediate vicinity. Moving to lean in against a pipe as he witnesses Kye's own shots, and the sudden twang of light from up above, the old pilot takes a moment to catch his breath. Sure he didn't move much, but there's something to be said for a diet of brandy and bantha ribs. "A pleasure to serve sir! Good work Kye!" The very words offered to Xavier as he takes a moment. The frozen janitor is given a brief look. "He'll be a little thaw come the morning." Oh dear. And with Tamsin's impressive entrance to the ground level, well, there's a bright and cheery huzzah. "And always a pleasure Councillor."
-- Tamsin --
"Have the troopers capture as many of the stragglers as they can. Shoot any who resist. We can use them for intelligence before we eliminate them." There was not a shred of mercy in that vocoded voice, nor did anyone who had walked in with the Councilor expect such. Mercy, so far as such a thing existed, was clearly not in the robed figure's purview.
As that last flash of a cryoban grenade exploded near the door, that crimson blade fell from the Councilor's hand, arcing away and spinning in an almost poetic pirouette as it flashed down to cut down the last of the resistance soldiers trying to make for the door, blood spilling red as their body fell on the cool blue of the grenade's shrapnel. "ET-1141," they called to the Mark trooper leading the forces outside, "The resistance within the facility had been subdued, you may move your troops in to secure the facility and its staff." Now, they made for the floor, flipping themselves back over the railing, robes flowing out like dark wings before their boots hit the durasteel plating of the plant floor.
-- Xavier --
Xavier earned his paycheck from applying his old military training towards organizing and executing the mission. Because he surely didn't earn it through marksmanship tonight. Not that it seems to bother the older man terribly. He's found himself a comfortable little nook between two vertical pipes to lean into, ankles crossed as if he were simply waiting for the shuttle to arrive.
<<"Confirmed, Councillor. En route.">> ET-1141's unfeeling voice affirms then clicks out again.
The facility is relatively undamaged. There are scorch marks everywhere from the missed volleys of both sides. Bodies strewn about and several that will need to be fished out from the water supply below them. Not to mention some machines have been frozen over. Indeed, the workers who did not flee -- and thus likely will keep their lives -- will have quite a bit of work ahead of them. But---
"By the mercy of the Sith Empire you will be spared," Xavier grins as the tradesmen and women slowly emerge and surrender themselves. "You're welcome."
