Hunt for the Warhound

[Ben Kenobi]

***Ossus - R-6***

The Task Force Liberty was beginning to reform now that preliminary repairs had been made and their orientation was to be directed at a series of jumps spanning several days towards the safe harbor of Mon Calamari where they would enact their much needed repairs. Once completed the refit Task Force would continue to conduct operations in the neighboring sectors. Until that time however, the Liberator Fleet would arrive to relieve the beleaguered naval force and they did so with style.

One by one in a brief succession a trio of the massive Nebula-class Star Cruisers broke out of hyperspace flanked by three Majestic-class Heavy Cruisers and finally a pair of CC-7700 Interdictor Frigates within the safety of the fleet’s embrace. Surrounding the elements of the incoming fleet were a pair of pre-launched E-wing Interceptor squadrons from the Blue Falcon Wing. Within the hangars of the Nebula Cruisers sat en entire Wing of the deadly BTL-S8 K-wing Bombers, with all pilots on standby. Finally there was also a Wing of Incom T-65XJ X-wings within their carrier vessels. All awaiting orders from their respective flight group leaders for the signal to launch and defend the Alliance wherever the enemies of freedom may hide.

It would be some hours, but once pleasantries and briefings were concluded, Task Force Liberty was on her way out of the system while Liberator took over active operations.

***Tion Cluster***

Tracking down a fleet of Sith warships in such a vast area of space was an impossibility in itself. But the small ragtag trio of Kenobi, Merquise and Norongachi were making as best time as they could. This was now to be their third reversion within the Tion. The last two obviously revealing nothing out of the ordinary; one being a dead boring checkpoint where a bored Alliance Lieutenant tried to convince the trio to make a layover so that he could play some cards which was denied, and the second being a privately owned repair station orbiting a nondescript moon that seemed to be far busier than the checkpoint was.

This third jump was supposed to be near a refueling station along the Candinth Run in the Jaminere System. As soon as Ben’s B-wing burst from hyperspace the comms chatter had picked up quite a bit from the quietude of the previous jumps. Being equipped with the appropriate Alliance clearance, he was allowed to listen in on the frequencies. His brow furrowed as a particular report was coming in from Raxus Prime some distance away in which multiple contact reports were coming in and it seemed the locals were putting up a fight against some suspected pirates and then approximately two hours ago a distress call had gone up from a civilian freighter near desolate Abraxin.

Conflicted, Ben was unsure of where to respond first and he was suddenly thankful he was flying on Salem’s wing, therefore the decision was not his to make. While the locals were engaged, it was unclear of the opposition while the incident at Abraxin was almost a completely unknown scenario.

“Salem,” Ben patched through the squad frequency they had set up. “I’m standing by for your call. We can make our fourth jump if you’d like or head to one of these hits if you’d like. Just give the word.”

[Salem Norongachi]

The problem with space, Salem mused, was that it was too big. The Empire had hidden a whole planet destroying battle station quite easily, twice. He'd heard of a third, but the records were sketchy at best regarding its construction. Unless they caught a break, they could be searching the sector for weeks, months even, and never hear a peep. Of course, they were Sith...

Sal Listened to the chatter on the Alliance coms at the same time as Kenobi and Merquise. Their objective was clear, find the Sith fleet but they didn't have the man power, nor the time, to waste with needle in a haystack jumps. The Sith offensive was fierce and after the beating Liberty Fleet just took, any insight into their movements was critical.

His fingers drummed a brief tattoo on the steering yoke, the chances of them making a difference in a two hour old distress call were slim to none. Either the freighter made good its escape or everyone was already dead, he knew how the Sith operated. Leaving loose ends was never in their playbook.

"Okay, we're heading for Raxus Prime. If we can help, we'll help but we might get lucky and get a clue to where the attackers are based." he comm'd back. Then, despite himself, added. "Any thoughts, Prex?"

[Zechs Merquise]

Jump. Jump. Jumpity. Jump.
Zechs got sick of the slump.
Be it near. Or be it far.
Zechs smelt a cigar.

He glanced back behind him as the trio listened to the comm chatter. The droid was still back there. There was no smoke in his cabin. Someone must have blown smoke on his socks or something. Then the old bugger called out to him using a title he hadn’t heard since the last time he was in a board room, trying to breathe through his rear end to avoid the smoke. It still gave him the coughs.

Zechs clicked onto the comms. “None worth sharing.” He was ready to get going again and get on with the sith business.

The sith weren’t a group he had dealt with much save the non-Sith Empire kind. His sith were batty with a few screws loose. These had to have a few extra ones missing. They actually wanted an empire. Those were a chore.

Going off and ruling your own little piece of nowhere was so much more relaxing. There you could get lucky. Enjoy nice dates. And if you were full, you could always make them into pies.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

---RAXUS PRIME

Laser cannon fire came down in sheets from a flight of Firesprays, the orbital stations defenses managed to knock damage one Firespray but the heavily shielded craft had limped away and was traded out by another attacker. Strafing runs eventually broke through the station’s shield arrays with the help of the two Gunships and the Dreadnought. Now whatever Firespray could afford the real estate of the station’s airlocks had come down and cut their way through the doors. Now Sith Warriors, red saber wielding devils prowled the corridors of the station slaughtering any they came across. The civilians aboard the station held little hope against Sith.

Down on the surface however a pair of Firesprays were in the process of landing when a flock of Jawa came from seemingly no where and opened fire. Some had weaponry that did little to no harm against the hulls of the heavy assault craft - but one of those cloaked critters was carrying some cobbled together weapon that not only packed a punch - its punch slammed into the lead Firespray and knocked a hole clean through the cockpit. The detonation caused a chain reaction that ignited the magazine of warheads and the resulting demise of the lead Firespray sent it and its occupants to a burning, screaming end.

The second Firespray disgorged its payload of lethal Sith Warriors while calling for strafing runs form other nearby Firesprays. The Jawas were putting up a valiant fight. But they were ill prepared to fight against Warriors of the Dark Side. Tiny cloaked midgets were flung into the air, crushed beneath collapsing terrain or hacked down in cold hearted action. The Jawa began to scatter. Some for good, some hid and continued the guerrilla fight.

Next though came the scrap droids. Some were basic Clone Wars era Battle Droids while others more advanced IG units and even some were cobbled constructs entirely. These units fought the Sith for every inch of the Raxus Prime surface. The Sith would not reach the Refinery without a strong showing from the residency who were unwilling to share their scrap with anyone else - much less outside invaders.

---WARHOUND COMMAND

Darth Tormentous acknowledged Slade’s desires. Keeping the spawn collected and calm was crucial. Should those monsters escape their loyalties were not so solidified as the crew that tended the ships. A significant loss of manpower was not something the Warhound needed at this junction in time.

The Lord Sovereign departed and left Tormentous to continue to view the ongoing situations. So it seemed the Kings were concluding their operation. This was excellent news. Once they managed to rally back up with the Warhound they would have immediate orders to refit, refuel and depart for Raxus Prime as the situation there seemed to be slowing down due to the local population.

[Silas Karn]

“Prepare a vessel for departure and make sure to secure the weapon from my quarters. Obviously there is need to adapt moving forward.” A metallic tone was swift to grant its reply, “So not the Defender I suppose…” Vile laughter followed as Nil continued, “Given the lack of immediacy or combat I’ll ready your Infiltrator. I’ll send for your effects. Ready status should commence within half a standard hour.” The Sovereign scowled at his droids attempts at levity. A fledgling Jedi Knight had managed to destroy the infamous imperial designed fighter he had placed cycles of time into.

The frustration was palpable and yet it would fuel the priest in his torturous repurposing of the Verpine slaves. For as much upheaval as the Sovereign sensed abroad the solemn confines of his infiltrator soon swept away his concerns. Instead as Silas boarded the ship his serpentine persona could be mitigated in part as he stowed away to the darkest corners of the vessel. Removing the pair of ornate curved hilts from his belt for perhaps the last time Silas simply placed the set within the confines of his personal storage within the Infiltrator. “My lord I have recovered your weapon and we are now set to depart.” Nil announced as it held out a sword encased within a black sheath embossed with a platinum serpent running down its length from the merger of its hilt.

Sovereign stood and reclaimed the artifact feeling a pulse of darkness resonate with his armor and reverberate deep within the core of his being. “The Irus’s Mirtis, the finest relic forged by my hand. It shall serve as a potent focus and tool of refinement for my craft once wielded upon those the Dark Lord have given to my care.” Nil nodded in acknowledgment before departing to helm the ship. The assassin then lifted the craft from the docking bay floor and with a slight burst of momentum exited the Harbinger returning Sovereign to the void.

[Emic Lai]

WARHOUND COMMAND
TWO HOURS AFTER STRIKE ON ABRAXIN

Emic sat in the navigator’s seat, shuffling out of her combat uniform and into her dress grays. While she stood up and buttoned her coat, the pilot handed her the kepi that was hanging from the console. While command came naturally to her, all of the nonsense that came with being an officer made her sick. It didn’t help that the dress uniform was lame; it would benefit significantly if it had a more appealing color scheme.

The pilot went through the checks and docking procedures, and they were once again on the Warhound. The doors open, and the deck falls near-silent as the Kings exit their boat. The soldiers split up to go take care of their business on the flagship, one of them shouts at a gawking pair of crew. “Quit your staring and get refueling!” The crew members, shaken from their shock, hustled to work as the King of Kings stepped from the hold of Solemn Quiet.

She made her way through the Warhound, heading through the cargo bay toward the bridge. It was there in the cargo bay that she saw that Sith, fallen from his glory. She stopped, and crossed her arms, observing him for a moment with a hidden gloat. It was always fun when the old boss got replaced by the new boss, even if they were ultimately the same. Especially in the Sith Order, where everyone believed they were the most important being in the galaxy. How the mighty fall.

[Slade Xandir]

Careful of the acidic ash that befell Famine, what Slade was considering Raphael's starved mount to encompass in all entirety, he moved nearer to address the foul creations that were a shadow of the living regal creatures they had been. Mercy's former mount, only wanting to end the essence of all life from life itself released a roar from smooth blackened coppery jaws. It sounded of metal scraping over bone, and very well could have been, considering what she was, now. As though a scythe had carved you from your own skeleton, and you wiggled on the pricked hook like the worm you were, twitching and jittery until you bled out. A horrible way to die from the entity of Death. Her body wafted awful white smoke, a fog that, once inhaled, would cause the life form to become sick of living, a feral level of suicide would take hold, and the infected would kill themselves brutally.
Famine was nigh nothing's but sinewy skeleton barely held in the taunt flesh it bore. Silvery and white, it was a living ghost, only corporeal enough to feed and keep itself from disappearing altogether. One-eyed, a pale and dead stone watched everything that moved as little snow like flakes fell from it from every movement. Its own flesh which had no choice but to regenerate, fell away the dead scales, those scales ashen and toxic to anything it touched. Anything organic that felt a scale would fall into a rabid frenzy, attacking with vengeful hunger any other organic. Trapped in a terrified mind, but incapable of motor function, the body would seek the nearest life, and eat it into nothing.
Wrath, a war brute of Arkanian Dragon, was still living, and held no such outwardly lethal condemnations towards other organics. Due to the genetic editing of his developing embryo when he was first stolen however, Slade had affixed the reptilian to have molten blood, bright and superheated orange veins showing luminescently through deeply blackened coal scales. He, forever hot, wanted to release the fire that pumped through him and the only release was destruction.
Kraujas Ntima, a scourge of venom and toxin, was indeed the shining star of all 4 of the coven. Mighty and massive, the dual headed hydra was the epitome of lethal, nothing able to kill it, or even deter it from poisoning you with deadly aimed spikes and even more awful, blood which seared everything it touched with corrosion. Merely touching the mount unaware would eat your blood away until you hemorrhaged. This dragon had culled Slade's others, and taught him valuable lessons about life after death. This dragon was the reason he had resurrected the other two, and brought them together to serve. He had to pay careful attention to the harmony of them all, and ensure they worked together, and didn't eat the crew.

In fact, those who had to follow his instructions in cleaning up after the dragons had to wear specially formatted hazmat suits to stop from dying or killing each other due to the dragons auras. Slade stood away from the scene, directing from a distance. So far, so good.

[Ben Kenobi]

***Raxus Prime***

The trip through hyperpsace was long enough for Ben to take a quick nap and he was awoke to the chime of the navicomputer on a count down to reversion. Taking a moment to stretch and yawn he adjusted his helmet and went through a several minute long process of systems checks. As his A/SF-01 B-wing was reading an all clear and he was slightly jealous of the well maintained craft in that it was in better running order than his Incom T-65XJ X-wing which he had flown for years. Without a doubt this B-wing was like a luxury craft in comparison. He admired it and as the countdown fell to within only a few digits he set his hand to the flight yoke and patiently waited with a smile.

When the blue tunnel broke apart and delivered the junk world of Raxus Prime to the front viewport, his smile very quickly faded. Sensors were blasting alerts and his CMD immediately brought up a Dreadnought Star Frigate that was identified as the Essence a known Sith warship. Along with her escorts and the trio were pounding a civilian orbital facility. It seemed there was also a starfighter engagement ongoing.

“Looks like we found what we were looking for.” Ben pipped in over the comms while simultaneously powering up his shields and activating the weapon systems of his B-wing. In a beautiful display his heavy starfighter unfolded and locked into place giving it the iconic visage it was so well known for.

Roughly at long range still, they had a moment to prepare. Ben switched his targeting computer over to warheads and he could hear the B-wing’s magazine loading missiles into the tubes. “I’ll engage that frigate. No way I can take her down but I can give our friends out there some support and maybe the Sith will think twice before committing here. I’m going to need some cover. When I kick this hornet’s nest I imagine we willl have our hands full.”

Before he forgot however he added, “Salem, get a contact report sent back to the Liberty before we get jammed.” Since Salem was in a custom ship Ben was working with the assumption that his communication gear would be more powerful and the message therefore would get to where it needed to go faster and safer.

[Salem Norongachi]

The moment his ship had identified the Dreadnaught he was already reaching for the coms. He'd seen enough of these aging warships in action to know that two fighters and a bomber hadn't a hope in hell of taking her down. The best they could do was call it in and then harass it long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

"Recon patrol Delta Four to Liberty," Sal began and sent a quick two click com affirmative to Kenobi that he understood. "Sith Warship sighted, transmitting coordinates and profile. Attempting to aid civilian targets, respond with appropriate force." he managed before the line hissed and spat at him, the jamming field knocking out his ships long-range coms.

His hands walked the familiar path across his command console, bringing his shields and weapons online. "Start your run Old Man, we'll follow you in. Dreds don't have the most robust anti-starfighter performance but what they lack in volume they make up in power. Lets try not to die. Prex, you're on me."

[Zechs Merquise]

The XJ’s hull glimmered in the transit from unreal space to its real counterpart. The entire way Zechs had taken slow, careful breaths. Focused on the distant moment where war would thrust itself upon him once more. To combat, death, and beyond. Then came the flash of the real. Raxus Prime. A trio of fighters posed against a cosmic backdrop, staring down a nightmare. Innocent lives under a vile assault.

Zechs unfurled his lances from their x cage and made ready the act of war. Specks of evil drew his eye. The frigate stole his attention. Demanding their surrender would have only been met with laughter, so Zechs didn’t bother pointing out they skipped using their words to resolve this conflict. “Understood. But I’d give the command deck a scare. Should draw plenty of attention.”

Listening to Salem, he nodded though no one would see it and shifted his fighter into a more pleasing alignment for his allies. “On your six and ready to break right.” That’d give any pilot not paying attention a little shock.

Zechs pushed his fighter ahead and brought his trigger finger to the sweet spot. Ready to fire. “Today is a good day for them to die.”