Operation: Warden


Operation: Warden

Not a single soul aboard the CSS Void Warden was disturbed, as it pulled itself from Relay. With lesser vessels, the people aboard might lose their footing and stumble forward, drop papers and try to catch themselves on their hands before falling to the deck, but the Stealth Class Void's Warden was engineered for Relay Jumping and it was smooth as silk.

Sitting in their chairs on the Combat Information Center, navigators, weapons experts and scan techs swiped at the displays in front of them. They narrated every move they made into the helmets that concealed their faces. Planetary Scans shot from the array stuck to the Void Warden's hull and instantly began canvasing the world below them, the Scan Techs began pooling the data collected from their individual probes, creating an accurate picture of the world below the ship. As a precaution when jumping into a potentially dangerous orbit, the Void Warden's forward batteries came online and on the gunnery deck, the great propulsion coils that would accelerate a projectile forward at five kilometers every .001 of a second glowed red with pent-up energy. The Gunnery Chief, who had a hilarious speech about Sir Isaac Newton being the deadliest man in the history of humankind, smiled up at his babies and warmed his uncovered hands in the heat radiating from them. It was the Navigator's jobs to tell the helmsman - Lieutenant Dan to his friends, which was just about everybody - of the planet below, or in the case of engagement, what evasive actions were necessary to keep the Void's Warden from damage.

A Navigator showed up at the helmsman's side and handed him a tablet. Lieutenant Dan looked at his orders before handing the small computation device back to the Navigator and nodding acknowledgement. Reaching out, Dan took the ship's controls into his hands and announced into the intercom system that ran throughout the ship "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, we at Collective Space Travel surely hoped you enjoyed your ride. It has just been told to me that we will be assuming an orbit over the world you will see out of your starboard windows. Please remember to check your frequent flyer miles aboard the on-ship Virtual Intelligence, 500,000 and you get a model of this very ship and a free month's subscription to Kingdom of Fantasy, yes, I know how much you people enjoy it."

As soon as Lieutenant Dan had gotten off the intercom, a synthesized voice with fake emotional inflection came on and spoke to the crew "Attention all hands, please disregard previous message. There is no such organization as Collective Space Travel and anyone checking with me about frequent flyer miles will be ignored."

At the helm, Lieutenant Dan sighed, as the exaggeratedly female face of the on-board Virtual Intelligence appeared next to him on a free standing display "Spoil sport."

Striding onto the Combat Information deck with all the dignity of a conquering warlord, Commander of the CSS Void's Warden - Commander Wentworth - assumed his position at a mass of free standing displays. Free standing displays really were amazing pieces of technology. They were like an old computer monitor, but without any parts, just a display floating wherever the user commanded it to. Commander Wentworth looked over the displays, gauging Scan Time, Weapons Systems and Planetary data, while simultaneously taking reports from underlings in the form of tablets like the one Lieutenant Dan had received.

Commander Wentworth talked under his breath to himself, as he contemplated his next course of action. "Scans have found life signs." he chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought. "The world is technically habitable, and the scans have shown modern structures erected underneath the heavy canopy." The Commander knew the kind of anger he would provoke from his superiors if he ordered the combat crew to drop, the cost of putting a couple landing shuttles on the ground would be astronomical, if the landing bore no fruit.

Finally, the Commander decided. He summoned a nearby Scan Tech from his seat and designated the area he wished to have deep scanned. Modern structures and life signs exceeding that of the lower creatures that lived on this planet had been detected on first scan, this may be what the Void's Warden was looking for.

"Three passenger vessels go missing in as many months and we find a habitable planet in-system. Can't be a coincidence." The Commander said to himself, as he sat down in the seat next to the jumbled bunch of free standing displays. He would wait the necessary half hour for the deep scans to come back and confirm his suspicions, if he was right then he could continue his work with Operation Saving Grace.

Half an hour later, Commander Wentworth had called all the Planetary Combat Crew to general quarters and, even as the deep scans came back and told him his hunch was correct, the PCC had already strapped on their battle armor and were loading into the drop ships.

The display in front of Commander Wentworth's eyes showed the structures in real time. A couple aliens and a few humans dressed in full battle armor with a deep blue coat of paint patrolled around the tops and perimeter of a collection of cement and titanium structures that shown in the harsh downpour. The view was not as good as the Commander would have liked, this world was mostly thick rainforest and the heavy overhead canopy obstructed all but the best scans The Collective could offer -- all the more proof that these men did not wish to be found, whatever they were doing.

"Let's see if those damn aliens and sympathizers The Collective stuck me with are worth their chow." The Commander muttered to himself, as he tapped one of the free standing monitors and gave the order to launch the drop shuttles. Commander Wentworth, and most of the crew of the Void's Warden were humans, and it had been that way since the ship was first commissioned. An order for the Void's Warden to allow foreign crew onto their ship to assist with Operation Saving Grace had been less-than-popular with the very human-centric crew and there had been a lot of tension among the old crew and new.

The new crew did not consist solely of aliens, there were humans in there too, but to Commander Wentworth and many of the crew - Lieutenant Dan excluded - the few humans who brought variety to the PCC were just as bad as the aliens themselves. Sympathizers mostly, but some of the sneakier members of the original crew had went through the belongings of most of the humans in the PCC and found disturbing evidence for even more.

Maybe if we're lucky they'll all die and we can brand mixed crews a failure. The Commander thought to himself, smiling behind a hand he put to his mouth to scratch at the stubble he hadn't shaved off that morning.

There were three Orbital Drop Ships aboard the CSS Void's Warden. Void's Warden was not a huge war frigate with thousands aboard and a budget to match, this ship was a stealth vessel meant to jump in-system and then out again before any potentially hostile foes were the wiser. ODS 1, 2 and 3 were short squat looking vehicles with hover technology that allowed them to drop from orbit at extreme speeds, before pulling up as they entered the atmosphere and taking flight.

The crews of ODS 1 and 2 boarded their vehicles with all the precision of long practice. The assembled group of aliens and humans held weapons at their waists, as they finished the lengthy process of synching the high tech battle armor they wore to their EC's -- Evolutionary Chips.

ODS 3 was the last drop ship to be ready.

As the final shuttle finished boarding, the airlocks opened and the vehicle hold was spaced. The pilots of the Orbital Drop Ships pointed their ships towards planet and let a short propulsion go from their ships. The law of motion, as Gunnery Chief called it, was that an object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside object. Space is empty, and as such, all it takes for an ODS vehicle to begin moving is a short burst of speed, then the vehicle will maintain that velocity until entering the atmosphere of the target planet, where the pilots would activate the hover technology and bring the
ships level to the ground.

As ODS 3 leveled out over the dense jungle canopy and shot through the air just above the tree line, in formation with the other three drop ships, the sergeant stood in front of the assembled drop team. He was an alien, vaguely humanoid but for the scaled skin, huge humped back and the four deep black eyes that shown from four sockets, placed like the four dots of a dice, in his head. He had a deep voice that inspired loyalty, and sometimes fear and a friendly smile, if you could get past the rows of serrated teeth that shown white in his mouth. Most new recruits were scared to death of the Vortag's - that's what he was, a Vortag - huge jaws and sharp teeth, they were especially intimidating if he was screaming into your face with them.

"Alright, people, listen up." the sergeant said, raising his hands to quiet the inside of the shuttle, the crew had taken to speaking in hushed tones to each other, about the coming battle, about home, about their own planets, a few of the veterans scared a new recruit with war stories about the time when their people and the Vortag were at war, thousands of years ago.

"QUIET!" the Vortag screamed with enough force to ruffle the hair of a man sitting a few seats from the front of the craft. The Planetary Combat Crew fell silent amid the roar, and the sergeant shook his shovel-shaped head in approval. Then he brought his right arm up and clenched his fist, summoning his EC, a free standing display appeared and rotated to face the people watching their sergeant. An outline of the collection of structures they were about to investigate appeared, shown to scale and distance, the three drop ships were shown as floating grey dots slowly approaching the structures. "Operation Saving Grace is a Collective attempt to stem the tide of slaves leaving Collective Space. We've been given the honor of being the first mixed crew to ever work together formally."

The few humans there were cheered, except for one, who had accessed his own EC and was staring at it intensely -- there was a far off look in his eyes and Sergeant Vortag, everyone called him by race because his people's names were nearly impossible to pronounce by any but other Vortag, knew what the man was going through. Other aliens did their own form of cheering, some gnashed teeth together, others thumped their chests audibly and Vortag stomped his right foot in agreement.

Vortag held his free hand up again for silence, keeping the arm displaying the structures held out for everyone to see. "Now we are not completely sure the occupants are hostile, but we have reason to believe these are slavers, working from this planet to funnel Collective citizens out of our space and into the Uncharted Expanse. ODS 1 will touch down outside the perimeter and invoke our right to search, if this is refused we will have no choice but to use force. Let me make it clear to you; deadly force is only authorized when fired upon. We're here to save people, not fill body bags. We have reason to suspect that this will turn into a battle, so be ready people, let your ECs find targets for you, keep your chips scanning, and for the love of my hump, spread out, I don't want to lose any of you squishies." The crew laughed at the Vortag's use of the slang term the Vortag used for any other race that didn't have scales.

That was when ODS 3 was rocked by a violent deceleration followed by a dive. Vortag was almost thrown to the ground, but his knees hit the floor of the shuttle and he managed to stay upright, if barely. As the crew scrambled to free themselves from the panic bars - named for the way new recruits held them with soul numbing panic the first time they really dropped - Vortag got to his feet and pulled open the hatch that separated the crew from the pilots "What's going on here?!" he yelled into the cockpit.

"Oh," he mumbled a few seconds later, as the pilot pulled up on the controls to escape a beam that would have sheered the lightly armored Drop Ship in half, Vortag turned back to the crew and commanded "LOAD UP. CONFIRMED HOSTILE." then he screamed something at them in his own language, some kind of prayer, or mantra for good luck, maybe.

You are on ODS 3.


Name: (Self explanatory, right?)
Age: (This is subject to your race, some races have human lifespans, some live for centuries)
Race: (Look below for the preset races, or create your own!)
Specialization: ( Is your character a soldier? A Hacker? An Infiltrator? This will dictate how your character interacts with the battlefield.)
Weapon: (Modern weapons usually use thermal clips to keep your weapon system cool.)
Bio: (Where do you come from? What is your history? How did you get here?)


Evolutionary Chips (EC)

In the closing decades of the 28th century, by Earth standard, a team of military, scientific and civilian contractors banded together to create the Evolutionary Chip.

Breakthroughs in computing technology finally allowed this group to create a computer that interfaces with a person on a basic function level. These chips were initially incredibly hazardous, but as the year 3000 rolled around, technological advancements and years of trial and error allowed this group to make the first fully functioning person with a high powered computer on board, with its own free standing display that can be displayed at-will on the user's arms, and even hover up to thirty feet away from the body.

These chips are truly revolutionary. Civilians have an on-board computer that, with a single command, can entertain themselves with internet videos, check schedules that are automatically created when the person agrees to a meeting, check everything from what the forecast weather will be two weeks from now to playing video games. They even store memories you wish to save.

In Military circles throughout The Collective, the EC allowed for so much safer targeting acquisition for ground troops - in the first year of widespread deployment, the EC lowered Friendly Fire Casualties to almost non-existant numbers - allowed the weapons teams of huge war frigates to compute distance, trajectory and velocity of their weapons instantaneously and some ECs were adapted by deep cover operatives to render them temporarily invisible to the naked eye. ECs allowed humans to directly interact with computers without ever touching the computer itself, this allowed military cyber warfare teams to disable hostile turrets, open doors without the use of explosives and the really good ones were even able to shut down life support aboard enemy war ships

Scientists lauded the EC as the next step in the evolution of sapient life. Scientists of every race could now access scientific data on a whim, save thoughts, feelings and hypothesis without ever having to write them down. They had the collected scientific data of the ages at a single thought, able to speak to another EC within ten miles directly, and able to access the internet to send emails and other correspondence remotely.

Evolutionary Chips, once synched to the host, cannot be removed without severing all brain function to the host, and thus killing him. Only very specific, exact electronic charges can temporarily disable ECs in their hosts.


Preset Races


Vortag are intensely strong and smart creatures. Their rough scaled skin and humped backs are proof of the hostile environment they evolved in. Vortag on the home planet are not nearly as civilized as Vortag born and raised in The Collective, on their homeworld, Vortag are constantly battling with each other for land, food, females and glory. Even civilized Vortag are very aggressive, and most join The Collective PCC, or a similar organization. They love war, they love the smell of the steam venting from their rifles and the sounds of thermal clips as they rattle against the ground. They specialize in heavy weaponry and leading charges, their naturally tough scaled skin is augmented in battle by heavy armor that can ricochet most enemy fire.


The Quarian homeworld was absent all insect life. As a result, plants eventually adapted to have large mammals carry pollen and seeds across the world. For the sapient life there - the Quarians - this meant that most illnesses were at least partially beneficial to their overall health, and over hundreds of generations their immune systems slowly failed. War finally drove the Quarians form their homeland, war with a sapient robotic life they created. The vast majority of Quarians are now galactic vagrants of sorts, living in a huge space-born city known as The Migrant Fleet. This only worsened their originally acute Immune Systems. Now, hundreds of years later, Quarians have to live their entire lives in self contained exo-suits to protect themselves from all foreign bacteria. These suits are beautifully done with rich colors and intricate cloth lacing for added aesthetics, some Quarians even have pictures emblazoned on their exo-suits. Quarians are basically humanoid, but for arched legs and only two fingers and a thumb, they posses basically the same biology. Quarians are very intelligent, adept at using ECs in cyber warfare, and prefer long range weapons that put them in no danger of suit rupture, and thus exposure to foreign bacteria.

(Quarians are from a game called Mass Effect, I put them in here because I think they're really interesting.)


Humans are the newcomers to the galaxy. Vortag, Quarians and numerous other alien species that have been traveling the stars since the wretched ancestors of man first pulled themselves from the water and flopped onto land. Humans are tough, enterprising and stubborn. Their technology surpassed their ability to use it, and even now, many humans are struggling with racism, distrust and hate for aliens, which is rather ironic, because humans are actually the aliens now. Humans do not specialize in any one area, they can be trained to do just about anything and the best of them excel .


Maybe you don't like the three presets? That's completely fine! Create your own species! Use your imagination!


The Collective

The collective is the system of government in this part of the universe. Members of every race are invited to put forward three members who embody all that is good about their race. These three members are changed annually.

A Garden World and massive Space Station are the focal points of The Collective's power. The planet Eroes serves as the seat of power for The Collective. The Space Station Eroes Prime is the militaristic arm of The Collective. Millions of residents preside on the Space Station, and most are military personnel, the few who are not hold high ranking position in consultation companies, or are the families of servicemen.

(Shut up, Peril!)
Okay, okay, okay, and finally!

The Rules!

1: Thou shalt obey the Campfire Commandments. Please do not use extreme language, no god modding, no blatant sexuality, keep it PG-13.

2: The Missing Man rule, this is basically saying that anyone can join the RP whether or not they were here when it started.

3: Have fun, my friends!

((I must beg pardon for the double post. I get a little carried away with introductions.))



Name: Jack McAlister Carlyle

Age: 28

Race: Human

Specialization: Soldier

Weapon: The Rampart Light Machine Gun (RL2) a thermal cooled light machine gun used to keep enemies in cover, it can fire extensively before overheating, but is very heavy. Secondary handgun.

Bio: Jack McAlister Carlyle grew up in a human colony on a mostly unexplored planet called SYG-2. SYG-1 was another colony, financed by the SYGMA Corporation for the purpose of charting, and claiming ownership to the mineral rights of the planet.

SYG 1 and 2 barely had any contact. They were placed on opposite ends of the planet and each had their own unique problems to deal with. SYG 2 was the better off of the two colonies, SYGMA, having learned from the first colony, sent the second off with all the supplies needed to begin colonizing, and later mining, the world. SYG-1 had to wait for supplies, however, so they were in an almost constant state of 'hurry up and wait'.

Mining will always be dangerous. And one day, the danger of his family's job reared its ugly head and swallowed Jack's father -- a man that Jack, only 3 years old at the time, had never even met. Without her husband, the only way the Carlyle family was staying on-world, to continue working SYGMA evicted the widow, and her son from the planet.

Jack's mother, a strong woman in her own respect, did her best to make sure her son was raised properly and with everything a child needs to develop. At the age of six, Jack met the man he would have to call Dad for the next decade. By all appearance, Jack's step father was great to him, and truth be told the man wasn't as bad as some step fathers. But Jack always came second to the child that came a year later.

So the young boy, born on a mining planet called SYG, grew to adulthood. With no real sense of family, and no real father figure. Jack's irrational distrust of humans in general started as a leeriness in the pit of his stomach, and slowly grew to motivate his every decision.

When Jack McAlister Carlyle - the only Carlyle left, since his mother assumed her new husband's last name - turned 16 he enlisted in the Collective Planetary Combat Crew.

Years later, changed from the angry young man he was, but still carrying that distrust in the pit of his stomach, and reeling from grief - something he never speaks of - Jack volunteered to be among the first humans to go into battle aside their alien comrades.

Please, let this be my final battle. Jack thought to himself, as he stared down at his hands. The feeling was still there. A bone deep numb that stretched across his mind and body. He'd had that feeling for almost a standard Earth year. It was a relentless attack, mind and even body, a sick feeling that made him want to puke, followed by a numbness that spread through his body unchecked. Some nights he would lay awake in his bunk, in the PCC quarters in the depths of the Void's Warden, and the feeling would slowly fade away, replaced with the unstoppable urge to curl into the fetal position and cry into the single pillow. He never gave in to the temptation, mainly because he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't stop until every soul in the PCC quarters were awake and staring at him.

Jack knew he should be listening to Vortag, knew he should be thinking about the mission, about freeing people of all races, trapped against their will. He knew that what Vortag was telling the crew was important. But, like he had been feeling for so long, Jack didn't care. He commanded his EC to bring up his memories - not that he needed his EC to remember these memories.

On a free standing display that hovered over his right forearm, Jack expanded a single memory, which was shown on the display like a computer would show an image or video. Jack didn't want anyone else to see what he was looking at, but it was very hard to hide such things in the cramped belly of an Orbital Drop Ship.

The image that was displayed on the free standing display in his hand was that of a Quarian. Like all Quarians, her face was hidden from view behind a two-way opaque faceplate colored a light purple - it matched the color of the exo-suit she wore, a hood pulled up over the head of the exo-suit so only the faceplate could be seen. Jack stared into the faceplate.

The Orbital Drop Ship twisted violently to avoid another beam of energy and Vortag screamed at them to ready weapons. Jack's machine gun sat between his knees, thermal clip already inserted. He glanced around at the few humans who sat amid around, scowling at each of them, before looking back at his EC.
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A new RP, eh? I'll bite.

Name: Lieutenant Rolf Helmfrid

Age: 23

Specialization: melee and CQB

Race: Human

Weapon: Carbine based off of G3KA4A1ZF, semi automatic pistol based off of DH-17, große Messer, grenades based on Type 43 Stielhandgranate

Bio: Rolf was born in the city of Königsberg, Ostpreußen, Deutschland, 87 years after the reunification of the territory with the Fatherland, to parents known for their history of military, going back to at least the 10th century A.D.. From birth, Rolf was destined to join the officer corps of the Collective, and was raised accordingly. At the age of 20, he graduated university on an accelerated study track, and completed the officer candidate school a few months later. Upon graduation, his family granted him his große Messer. A few days later, he went off into battle. He was quickly noted for relying more on his pistol and messer than a rifle, sometimes not even carrying one. He was also noted for his effectiveness with his weapons. After a particularly fierce battle, he and his actions were likened to Lieutenant Walter Hamilton VC, and Rolf was awarded the Cross of Honour for Valour. As per familial tradition, Rolf was also given the emblems of his ancestor's Order of the Black Eagle. He currently wears the badge on its ribbon. Because of his characteristics, and his ability to smoke a pipe in nearly any situation, he has sometimes been called the young senior.

A few months before Operation: Saving Grace, Rolf was volunteered for a self titled 'Programme for the Integration of Human and Non Human Species in the Theatres of War', where he was assigned to lead a platoon of very mixed soldiers, about a third human, the rest various alien species, with Rolf being the only human in commanding position, that of platoon leader. His platoon was assigned to the Void Warden for Operation: Saving Grace, where the only thing keeping the platoon from open racism was respect for Rolf's medals and awards, most notably the Order of the Black Eagle.


The morning routine was usual routine for the soldiers of Mixed Platoon 3 on the CSS Void Warden. Morning workouts with the platoon went perfectly fine, breakfast, while slightly more elaborate than usual, went fine, and morning news went fine. The comments from the usual crew of the Warden were saved for after Rolf passed by, comments directed toward him were more about the mysterious and ancient badge hanging from his neck. Shortly after breakfast, just as Rolf was cleaning his pistol, Lieutenant Dan came on the intercom, talking about some travel agency. The ship AI came on a moment later, dispelling any notions that Lieutenant Dan might be serious. Rolf shrugged and continued cleaning. Half an hour later, the alarm for general quarters sounded, and Rolf ran to ODS 3 with his platoon. When he arrived there, brief orders were given to pile into the drop ship, and wait for launch. A few minutes later, they were on their way planet side.

Along the way, a Vortag was explaining the situation to the naval infantry. They were on an inspection mission, looking for slaves, and prosecuting slavers. No killing allowed unless if they wanted you dead. Rolf knew there would be fighting, or else the Collective would have sent the Constabulary. Rolf looked across him, and saw an enlisted looking at a picture of a Quarian on his EC. "Your sweetheart?" Rolf asked him. "Here's mine." He brought up a picture of a raven haired woman, standing in front of the Brandenburger Tor in Königsberg. "Her name's Ilse. Tell me..." Rolf's question was cut short by the shock of the ship entering atmosphere, followed by evasive manoeuvres of ODS 3, prompted by an attack from an anti air beam. The Vortag ordered the occupants of ODS 3 to load up. Rolf smiled, and drew his pistol and messer. "Time for battle, boys. You ready?" His platoon gave hoots of confirmation as they drew their weapons. It was time to prove that a mixed species platoon could perform just as well as an all human one.


Well I'm on too. I was planning a new one but due to a malfunction with my computer designer (necessary for the RP to create a map) I can't do it for now. So here I am. First RP that you've done that I've joined at the start. Also correct me if I'm wrong but from your explanation it seems that the weapons are laser beam/ thermal blaster weaponry. Kinda like what they have in Star Wars? Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong but for now I'm going to take it like that.

Name: Frank Jefferson
Age: 31
Race: Human
Specialization: Soldier, Heavy Weapons (e.g. Machine-guns)
Weapon: Full Automated Laser Chain-gun that has a shoulder strap which means it is always slung across Frank's chest. Secondary weapons, Semi-Auto Laser Pistol and laser equivalent of an Uzi. Also he carries a flick-knife hidden inside a compartment in his waist-band.
Bio: Frank was born the son of a wealthy rich human on the planet Eroes however Frank was an illegitimate son of the man and so ashamed his father sent him away to the Space Station where from the age of five Frank was trained. His father secretly made arrangements and made sure that Frank was cared for. Frank was one of the first children to go on a mission as his father paid for him to go on a peace mission to another planet when there were some troubles there. At the age of 18 when he graduated from military school his father secretly met him and explained his true birth heritage and told Frank his reasons for sending Frank away. In battle Frank proved capable at space flight however he was not the best. He excelled in team fights displaying an intimate knowledge of how to use the close surroundings to either flank or surround the enemy or if necessary slip away unnoticed. He prefers heavy fire-power and his main tactic is to flank the enemy draw their attention away from himself and then unleash a barrage of fire on the enemy. He is part of the old crew however unlike most he accepts the aliens and the humans because he realises that with the way the universe is currently the humans must keep these alliances because if war broke loose then it could mean the end of the human race.


Frank checked his magazines and everything else. He fired a couple of shots down the test range to check they were all working fine. Finally he blasted the sheet to bits with chain-gun. He then walked into the brief and sat down. He wiped his weapon and prepared for the descent.
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Name: Jacquen Vhassa
Age: Somewhere between 20 and 30 Earth standard years
Race: Sicariun
Description: Jacquen stands at around 5'8" and is humanoid in appearance, with charcoal grey skin and oversized bright yellow eyes with no whites and the pupil like that of a cats however due to their extreme sensitivity to light they are seldom seen, hidden behind a pair of black opaque contact lenses relying more on his superior sense of hearing and smell. He has long, thick black shaggy hair which covers his long pointed ears when not tied back in a ponytail and a mouthful of sharp pointed teeth.
Quicker and more agile than the average human the Sicariuns have proved to be excellent scouts and infiltrators deploying their hunting skills with brutal efficiency even if they have proved to be somewhat volatile in the barracks.
Specialization: Recon & Infiltration
Weapon: Two long bladed bone handled knives, Wasp submachingun (c/w Silencer), and smoke grenades
Bio: Born on the night world of Sicarius, a rock of a planet plunged into perpetual darkness where within it towering mountains, bottomless ravines and endless tunnels the Sicariun people have learnt to survive.
With no sunlight only the most rudimentary of plant life has been able to evolve; mosses, fungi and algae which although capable sustaining some of the planets smaller denizens has resulted in the majority of the planets population to be carnivorous.
On a planet where many born never live to become adults Jacquen was one of the lucky few growing tough and resourceful becoming a valued hunter within his tribe. It was during his third year (Sicarius has a much larger orbit than that of Earth) that the humans came, however unlike the Vortag who had come previously to conquer and enslave, the humans sort to colonise and trade with the people of Sicarius welcoming them to join the Collective.
And so it was decided that as part of this new alliance with the humans that Jacquen along with half a dozen of his tribe mates would join the PCC as a sign of good faith.
Long dextrous fingers quickly worked over the submachine gun sat in his lap checking that the magazine and silencer had been correctly fitted preferring not to trust his life to the ships armourer, trust got you killed if incorrectly placed something you learnt very quickly back home if you wished to see your next year.
Satisfied that his weapon was fully operational he turned to study the rest of his squad, he was new to the unit having been hastily transferred due to an altercation with a Vortag in his previous unit. As the drop craft violently bucked Jacquen quickly picked out the fresh recruits as they clung to the panic bars, wide eyed in terror, he would be certain to avoid them once they made planet fall, a smile with all the charm of a crocodiles spreading across his lips in anticipation of what was to come.

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Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Name: Trace
Age: 67
Race: Kriken
Specialization: Sniper/Recon
Weapon: Imperialist (sniper laser), cloaking device, basic laser gun.
Bio: Trace, still a teenager of 14 human years by his race's standards, is a member of the Kriken Empire. Until recently, the empire had been one of the most feared in the near universe. The Krikens were known for three things; thinking they were better than everyone else, thinking they should rule everyone else, and being utterly heartless. However, when it became clear that the other civilized planets not under their rule were ganging up against them, they submitted, changing face almost overnight, becoming peaceful. They didn't give up the planets they had conquered in past millennia, but they no longer treated the other races as slaves. They're still ruled by a single Emperor, but the current one seems to be honest in his wanting to change millennia worth of terrorism into a new policy of friendship. The rest of the worlds are skeptical, but so far there is no proof they're lying, even though four thousand years have passed since their policy changes.

Trace was born on the planet that is the center of the Kriken Empire (and the only one they owned in the beginning). Krikens being ever the militaristic race, he was taken as a small child and put into the army. He was subjected to almost-tourturous training, especially considering that Krikens mature much slower than humans. He finished this training at 25, when he was the equivalent of eight human years. He was then given a mission to find a new weapon in an unexplored portion of space. This was fruitless, and he almost lost his life in the process. Since then he's had several successful missions, and was given to the PCC as another "good faith gesture", one of many small things the Krikens have done in the past four millennia to prove to the rest of The Collective they're on the straight and narrow now.

The Krikens may be one of the most aggressive civilizations, but their exoskeletons are somewhat weak. As such they are the leaders in sniping technology. Their weapon-of-choice is known as "The Imperialist", a weapon that each Kriken actually has in their own body...a natural weapon that cannot be replicated by machines. It fires a lethal red beam of energy that travels at the speed of light until it hits a solid object. A shot in the head is instant death, and while other shots don't always kill, it's always painful. The one drawback to the weapon is the beam doesn't go away immediately, and when it does, it goes away slowly, starting at the firing point. A missed shot only reveals where the sniper is shooting from. To counteract this, the Krikens have developed the natural ability to cloak themselves, similar to a chameleon. This only occurs when they stand still though, meaning any movement causes them to return to visibility. If a foe tries to engage them in close combat, they have two options. Either use their laser pistol by changing the setting on their arm cannons (used to amplify Imperialist beams) or change into a different look known as the Triskelion, a three-legged spider-like thing. This is a smaller, faster form, still with cloaking ability. While they can't use weapons like this, their legs are incredibly sharp, and they lunge at foes at blinding speeds. It's unknown even to the Krikens how they learned to alter their appearance, but it's instinctive to all Krikens nowadays.

Trace is a traditional Kriken, both in word and deed. He says almost nothing to people outside his race, as he had the Kriken superiority drilled into him all his life. He experiences almost no emotions, and the ones he does experience he doesn't know what they are, having never been told about them. He believes in the emperor's ability to do no wrong in any form, and believes his being shunted sideways to The Collective's forces was the work of his immediate superiors, acting without the emperor's knowledge.
(Trace is from Metroid Prime Hunters...I absolutely love this guy heh. Here's a few pics to explain what I'm talking about (and what I haven't))




Trace was sitting apart from the others. The other alien races still didn't trust the Krikens, and they had taught the humans to do the same. He hadn't asked for this assignment...in fact, he felt that he had been put here because after his initial failure, he had risen through the ranks too fast. He had become dangerous. Thus this assignment. When the attack came, he prepped his arm cannon to the Imperialist amplification setting and prepared to engage.
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Memories that he kept reliving flooded back into his mind, looking at the Quarian upon his EC. Every idle moment brought them back, brought the numb flooding his body. Each night, while his comrades sighed happily before settling down to rest, the memories flooded his mind. Jack had hoped that leaving Eroes Prime would help, but it hadn't, they followed him everywhere he went and only when leafing through the memories on his EC brought him some semblance of peace -- if bittersweet, due to the overwhelming sadness they came with.

Jack's mind was physically pulled out of the memories by another violent jerk of the ship's controls. Glancing towards the cockpit, Jack watched as another beam passed harmlessly by the ship.

"Your sweetheart?" A voice asked him, once the ODS leveled out again. Jack's temper flared at the question. He wanted nothing more than to attack whoever asked, as he looked in the direction the voice came from. The curses that were about to blow from him died in his throat, as he saw the shining medal around the neck of his lieutenant.

He didn't want to say anything, it was painful to even say the name out loud, but his military training - which he'd been immersed in for his entire adult life - compelled him to respond. It had been a crime in human space for so long, and they'd had to hide for the first years of their relationship. Finally, after years of hunting witches, the humans in The Collective relaxed their laws regarding humans and non humans. Even after it was legalized, there was ill-hidden racism and discrimanation for them.

"Yes, sir." Jack admitted, saying nothing more for fear of the numb feeling leaving and being replaced by the disabling sadness.

"Here's mine." Rolf held his arm out and accessed a picture of a woman. She was human, raven black hair and a striking smile. She was standing in front of a stone gateway of some kind, humans hadn't built things out of stone for years, and that perplexed Jack for a long moment, beforehe realized that the woman was on Earth, in front of the Brandenburger Tor. Jack couldn't quite remember, he'd never been to Earth before, but he thought that gateway was in Germany. "Her name's Ilse. Tell me-"

Jack was almost thankful for the evaisive maneuvers that cut the lieutenant's question short.

Vortag climbed into the second seat in the cockpit and reached to the control panel. There was a few seconds of delay, as he accessed the vehicle's communications array with his EC, and then he patched himself through the the CIC aboard the Void's Warden. "This is ODS 3, requesting Orbital Fire support. There are anti aircraft beam weapons down here."

"Please hold" the less-than-friendly voice from the other end came. The entire crew of ODS 3 listened intensely for a moment, before the voice came back on the line "Affirmative, ODS 3, tag the positions you wish to fire upon with your EC and we will begin."

Vortag looked out the window next to him and spied the beam weapon that had been giving them such trouble. He pointed towards it, his EC display appeared momentarily over his strange two fingers hand, before disappearing again.

"Affirmative, ODS 3, we have the position." the voice over the comm came back.

Aboard the Void's Warden, the Gunnery Chief clapped his hands together in joy, as an order filtered down to his station to point the batteries towards the planet. He absolutely loved the sound they made as they fired planetside from orbit. "You heard the order, people! Make it happen!"

The squat concrete and titanium structures that were the target drop zone came into view, just as Lietenant Helmfrid cried "Time for battle, boys! You ready?" Everyone, with the exception of Jack, hooted in approval.

ODS 3 passed over the beam weapon that had been harassing them and sped towards the drop zone. Behind them was a blinding flash, as the forward batteries aboard the Void's Warden fired a single shot that eviscerated the position. Fire sprung from the crater and engulfed the trees that previously hid the weapon from view. The flames leapt from tree to tree, only slightly dampened by the pouring rain this planet constantly had.

"AHHAHAHAHA!" Vortag roared from the cockpit, as he saw the blast. Climbing back into the cramped crew seating area, Vortag announced "Thirty seconds to drop! Stand up, everyone, get ready!"

Thirty seconds.

Twenty Seconds.

Ten Seconds.

Jack minimized her picture in the free standing display on his arm and then banished it from view. Reaching down, he hefted the Rampart into his lap and checked the thermal clip, making sure it hadn't come loose the last time the ship had evaded. He nodded in satisfaction at the weapon, before taking the sling and looping it around his right shoulder.

The human looked around at the non-human crew. He didn't feel distrust and anger towards them, like he did at every other human he met. There was a Sicarium on board, and even a Kriken, both had gaps in the seating around them. No one wanted to sit next to the Sicariun, as he flashed huge fangs in a smile, at the thought of the oncoming battle and the Kriken just scared the life out of everyone. He squinted to look at the names branded into their battle armor, Jacquen and Trace. He slightly inclined his head towards both of them, just as the ship slowed.

ODS 1, 2 and 3 slowed to a complete stop and turned to face the small arms fire coming from the concrete buildings. The cockpits were made of triple reinforced alloies, and could withstand everything short of a direct altercation with a rocket launcher -- which luckily weren't in evidence.

"NOW! GO! GO! GUNNERS SET UP SUPPRESIVE FIRE ON THOSE ROOFTOPS." Vortag commanded, as the bay doors on the rear end of the ODS opened and the occupants piled out.

There were three buildings, and so each crew was assigned to clear one. ODS 3 was assigned the smallest of them. Sadly, the third building was also sheltered by withering fire from overhead machine gun placements, it made rushing the building a suicide run. The crew of ODS 3 would have to wait for the first and second teams to neutralize those machine guns before they could advance.

Jack was one of the first off the ship. ODS 3 hovered two feet from the ground, providing the drop team enough cover to disembark without taking heavy fire. His boots sunk deep into mud, as he leapt from the belly of ODS 3. The rain hit him in the face, instantly soaking his face and plastering his hair to his forehead. Jack went belly-down into the mud, and adjusted the Rampart's tripod. He sighted down the barrel and aimed upwards towards the roof of the building closest to them. A pair of aliens with heavy battle armor were adjusting their weapons to attack ODS 3. Jack pulled the trigger on his weapon, inside his helmet, his EC automatically corrected his aim for elevation and planetary gravity. The Rampart spat at the pair of combatants on the roof. The withering chatter of the heavy machine gun forced the aliens to dive to cover, abandoning the weapon.

As the rest of the crew piled out, Jack began to focus his fire on the weapon itself, trying to disable it.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Trace returned the nod of the human. He'd been trained not to let emotions enter his mind, but he did appreciate someone not glaring at him like everything in the universe was his fault. So his ancestors had been evil...as far as he knew, things were different now. The Kriken empire hadn't attacked anyone in four millennia. And yet millennia had gone by with the Krikens being feared and hated across the universe...those feelings didn't go away overnight.

The drop zone came into view. Trace found out they were to jump, and he instantly changed his plans. For reasons he couldn't explain, the Triskelion was resistant to falling almost any distance, so to be safe he decided to make the transformation. Jumping straight up into the air, he twisted his body so that his legs were above him, his body making several transformations simultaneously. His head shrank. His limbs folded into themselves, shortening them. His legs fused into one limb. His body compacted. By the time he landed, he had completely changed. He then scuttled out the open door and fell next to the human who had shown kindness to him moments before, who was already beginning an assault on the building's roof. He returned to normal, head and torso growing immediately, legs springing apart and returning to normal length as his arms unfolded. He stood up, aimed at the aliens on the roof, and switched his visor to zoomed sniping mode. He stood stock still, vanishing from sight almost completely, making tiny adjustments in his sniping arm. The more he moved, the less the cloak worked, and so with all things considered, he was roughly 90% invisible. The aliens had ducked for cover when the human had started firing, and one of them was dialing a radio frequency, presumably to call for backup. Most of his body was hidden, but from his angle Trace could see his head, and that was all he needed. He fired, the red laser of the Imperialist traveling the distance instantaneously, frying the brains of the alien. Trace became fully visible as his arm jerked back with recoil, then he slowly faded out again as he reset, looking for his next target.


Rolf smiled at the soldier, according to the nameplate, the man was Carlyle. If Rolf remembered correctly, he was one of the humans in his platoon. Yes, that's right. Jack Carlyle. As Rolf's question was cut short by the dodging of anti aircraft beams, Gunny Vortag called down an orbital bombing on the position of the annoying AA with a point of his three fingered hand. Gunny Vortag gave a laugh of approval, and announced that they would be landing in 30 seconds. Rolf checked the thermal magazine on his pistol, full charge and locked tight. At about 20 seconds out, Rolf lowered a glass visor from inside his helmet, and called upon his EC to display on the glass. It was a modification he had made a few years to his system, further justification of his old senior nickname. At ten seconds out, Rolf noticed a Kriken change shape to its triskelion form. At five seconds out, Rolf got up, and rallied his platoon to do the same. At two seconds out, Rolf briefly touched the badge around his neck. At zero hour, the doors of ODS 3 opened up, and Rolf jumped into the forest with the rest of the men in the ship.

As soon as he was out, the rain started pounding on his helmet. Rolf commanded his EC to cancel out the noise of the rain, and a moment later, his helmet speakers were delivering sound of their own, perfectly out of phase with the raindrops pounding on his helmet. He ran to a tree a fair distance from the building they were assaulting, and, with a slight reluctance, put away his pistol and messer, and drew his carbine out from its sheath. He notified his EC of the change in weapons, and ordered it to mark anybody without IFF markers set to today's frequency. It did so, and highlighted a few enemy soldiers trying to get back to a machine gun. Rolf took aim through the scope, and fired a few three round bursts, an unnecessary habit that was a throwback to the days of chemical firearms, but it was another habit of Rolf's. The three hostiles were eliminated, and with the temporary lack of defensive manning, Rolf advanced to about a hundred yards from the building entrance.

Rolf knew that entering alone was foolish, as was advancing to the entrance, with the machine guns being manned again. So Rolf waited where he was, taking out machine gunners when he could. After a few minutes, a fireteam had gotten to his position, so Rolf ordered a run to the entrance, when a break in the machine guns came along. A few moments later, that break came, and the fireteam ran to the entrance. Before entering, Rolf drew out a grenade, and threw it into the entrance. A few seconds later, a comforting explosion sounded through the entrance of choice, and the fireteam entered. Just before entrance, Rolf put his carbine in its sheath, and once again drew out his pistol and messer, then entered the building.


Name: Quan Tasit nar Void Warden (Quan)

Age: 50

Race: Quarian

Specialization: Combat Medic

Weapon: Handgun


Bio: Qual was born in The Migrant Fleet. She showed a great aptitude toward the medical field, and worked diligently in trying to determine a means for the Quarians to build up their immune systems to escape the exosuits they were forced to wear.

During her studies, which included all other known races of the known universe, she became very knowledgeable of anatomy. She soon lost interest in her original endeavor of discovering a functioning immune system, and began to focus on emergency medicine. Her fascination with the anatomy of multiple species made her a shoe-in choice as a combat medic for the multi-special team aboard the Void Warden.


(OOC: I'm not sure of the limitations of the ECs. If I've over stepped my boundaries then please tell my Peril and I will sort it out right away.
Frank hit the ground and rolled. He dived behind the nearest cover and saw the Kriken and a human working together. He then saw the Kriken fade out of view again. He pulled out his Uzi and provided a spray of suppressing fire as he ran across. He jumped and landed behind their wall with an explosive breath. Assuming the Kriken was still there he said "Trace! Try aiming for the men on top of the gun ship!" He brought up his EC and asked it for a thermal radar (a radar capable of detecting only living species). It could see creatures directly in front of them. "You!" he shouted at the other guy "What's your name? There are quite a few aliens in front of us. If you provide suppressing fire for me I can get across around that rock and open up with this baby into their sides."
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Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Trace's head spun around at the newcomer in mild irritation. His head didn't appear to be connected to his body, and his head spun unusually far around to stare at Frank. He turned back around without saying anything, fading out again before he took out the other alien on the roof. He then turned his attention to the ones on top of the gunship, who (although he wouldn't admit it) he hadn't noticed until now. The drawback to sniping was the sniper became severely farsighted with tunnel-vision. If it didn't appear in the visor, it didn't even register for Trace. He relied on other teammates around him to keep him going, but being directed by a human? Unbelievable. He'd have to set the record straight with him when things calmed down. At least the human who'd been somewhat polite to him before trusted him to do what was best for the team.


A look of uncertainty came across the Sicariun's face as the human gave him a nod, there was no fear, no hatred, no loathing in his actions something Jacquen had come to expect from the humans. The main reason was their inability to understand the ways of his species, twice he had tried to resolve a dispute through traditional blooding only to be man handled to a cell by a mob of MP's they just didn't understand that he was only doing what he was raised to do, it was how you grew strong, how you survived.
But this one....this one was different; looking the human in the eyes Jacquen smiled revealing the gleaming fangs within his mouth before speaking in whispering voice "This one see's you Daywalker"

However before anymore could be said between them the drop ship landed with a bone jarring crash. Gripping his weapon tightly, he quickly follows the others out of the ship and into a world so alien to him that had people not been shooting at him he would have stood and gaped with wonder at the towering plant life so unlike anything he'd ever seen before, the rain quickly plastering his thick, dark hair to his skull as he dashed towards the building around which the fighting was centred.
An explosion buffeted his ears as one of the humans threw a grenade into a doorway, drawing a knife from his belt before joining the assault team, following the mans example Jacquen drew his own blades, slinging the SMG across his shoulder before entering himself, a hail of gunfire echoing all around him as the defenders fired down the corridors at them, a pair of bodies already lying dead in the corridor.
There could be no more than four soldiers guarding the corridor but the sheer volume of fire power they could lay down the long narrow corridor meant that anyone foolish enough to cross it would be cut down within seconds.
Crouching down beside the officer he'd seen throwing the grenade, Jacquen catches the mans attention before speaking like the humans had instructed him to do as part of his training, as if a piece of cloth should command respect "Should this one find a way around them?" he asked wishing to know if the human wished for him to deploy his somewhat unique talents.


((To answer your questions, Zem, ECs work with other networked computers, it's perfectly reasonable that it could tell you the results of scan data from the Drop Ships.))

"Fire take them!" Vortag growled, as he stepped down from the drop ship and surveyed the battlefield. Vortag stomped through the mud, leaving tracks big enough for a human to put both boots inside. "That's what we get for trusting a bunch of humpless fools to do a job!" The scans filtered down to the Orbital Drop Ships from the Void's Warden had failed to mention that the drop teams would be menaced by a gunship.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" the sergeant screamed at a human who was struggling to heft a rocket launcher onto his shoulder. The Vortag swatted the recruit on the back of the head hard enough to knock him to the ground, dropping the launcher he'd only had a tenuous grasp on. Vortag caught the weapon in mid air, before it even touched the ground.

A slaver in a blue flight suit was running across the landing pad, dodging the bullets thrown at him from the PCC troops amassed for the final assault upon the third building. The gunship's cockpit opened, seemingly of its own will, when the pilot was close enough and the engines began to glow a light red as they turned over. The gunship had handholds carved into the side and the pilot - a human - ran up these with all the grace of a monkey scaling a tree. Settling down in the cockpit, the pilot activated his EC and ordered it to make the engines ready, as his hands activated firing switches and the flight crew cleared the pad -- a few more falling to PCC fire.

A tremendous salvo of air to surface missles were propelled from the gunship's forward batteries and a group of PCC commandos were baked inside their own armor. The Collective soldiers collapsed to hands and knees, desperately beating at flames that had already covered their bodies. The pilot's EC began to automatically reload the gunship's main gun, just as Vortag lifted the rocket launcher to his shoulder, like a woman lifting a papoose from the ground. The Vortag's EC automatically alligned the rocket launcher on its intended target and adjusted for conditions.

As Vortag sighted down on the gunship, Jack ordered his EC to contact the Kriken and - though he hated the thought - the human. It was a simple ping that would alert them to the action going down at their target building, and Jack's course of action, as Jack looped the Rampart's sling around his right arm and pulled it from the mud. Running through the knee-deep muck was like trying to make good time across a level field, with fifty pound weights attached to each of your legs. It was still dangerous to move, but it either didn't register as important to Jack, or he genuinely didn't care. Gunfire peppered around him, thrown by both hostiles and friendlies. The combat armor's light shields were just enough to save him from serious injury.

Jack hit the wall outside building 3 just as Vortag unleashed the fury of the HELOS rocket launcher upon the gunship. The gunship didn't stand a chance, still not hot enough to leave the ground, it was a sitting target for the war-loving alien. "BAHAHA! That's how you fire a weapon, serviceman!" Vortag roared into the man's face, before pulling the shotgun from his shoulder and advancing across the compound himself -- on his way to back up the Lieutenant inside building 3.

His EC automatically adjusted the sensitivity of his ears - to allow him to fire his weapon in confined quarters without going deaf - as he pounded into the building. A dark corridor was lit by the muzzle flashes of machine guns set up in such a way as to make the only corridor into building 3 into a neat little killbox. A small contigent of slavers could hold off an entire platoon here indefintely.

"Should this one find a way around them?" the alien Jack had nodded at before the drop asked to his commanding officer.

Jack added to the conversation "Sir, I can keep them busy long enough for the Sicariun to work." He brandished the Rampart in front of him, as he said this, trying to strengthen his case. Jack smiled at the thought of his brains coating the walls, his helmet split in two by a heavy machine gun's wrath. Please, let this end.


The hallway, despite the grenade, was still a corridor of death by laser. Nearby, according to his EC, an enemy gunship was being prepped for launch, and had started firing on a nearby commando team. Since it wasn't too close, and he had no resources to destroy it, Rolf ordered his team to continue focusing on the entrance at hand. As Rolf's EC scanned for alternate ways in, a Sicariun joined the fireteam, and asked if he should find a way around. Rolf was about to answer, when an explosion appeared overhead, and bits of metal and synthetics fell down upon them, bouncing off their armour. A few seconds after that, Carlyle joined them, offering support for the Sicariun, brandishing his machine gun in an effort to strenghten his case. "Alright, do what you're thinking of doing, both of you. We'll enter the hallway when it's clear, then I'll lead the way into the building." A quick scan of his EC revealed part of a map of the immediate area inside the building. "We'll take this room near the entrance," Rolf sent the map and a marked room about 40 yards down the hallway. "and use it as a staging point to get more fireteams grouped up. Then we'll start clearing out the rest of the building. It may be the smallest of the three, but it's still large." Rolf waited half a second for the soldiers to process the information. "Now go!"


Frank saw the other soldiers dash round the side of the building and decided they needed cover fire. He pulled the trigger on his chain-gun and as in began to revolve he stepped out and blasted the enemy with fire. Assuming it was a whole platoon or something the slavers ducked behind cover and Frank swore. If he'd have had any grenades then now would have been the perfect time to use them. Instead he jumped behind cover and shouted "That'll give them a few seconds until the slavers realise their mistake."


(OOC: I seemed to have confused people with my last post. I envisioned a room before (Cleared by the grenade) the corridor of death)

Flashing his teeth in a grin Jacquen slapped the human machine gunner who'd nodded to him earlier, on the shoulder "Come Day walker let us hunt these fools" before dashing out of the building into the falling rain outside.

Moving quickly around the buildings exterior paying little attention to the stray rounds that flew passed him, his eyes constantly scanning the walls for what he sort as he went.
Locating the ventilation grille halfway up the wall of the building, Jacquen raised his hand in a fist signalling anybody following him to stop before he began speaking once more in his quiet rasping voice "Keep watch Day walker whilst this one climbs...if not back in two minutes then this one is inside"
Bred to scale the cliffs and tunnels of his home world Jacquen had little trouble scaling the wall of the building, his long fingers using the tiniest of crevices in the masonry with which to pull his wiry form up, the boots and gauntlets issued to him still on the ship under his bunk in pristine condition. Ripping the vent cover from off of the wall and dropping it to the floor below, Jacquen noted that it would be a tight squeeze even for him as he wriggled his way inside, his nails scrabbling on the ducts shiny metal surface for purchase as he crawled into the welcoming darkness.
With the walls of the ducts pressing tightly against his shoulders, Jacquen struggled to remove his contacts before proceeding to squirm down the narrow passageway his bright yellow eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness around him.

Moving as quickly as he dared Jacquen had no idea how long he had spent squirming through the metal warren of ducting before he finally found the grille he required, the four slavers taking it in turns to fire quick burst of fire down the corridor before diving back into cover.
Slowly working his arm down to the swell of his hip he retrieved the smoke canister from his belt before working his arm back in front of him, he would have to be quick and pray that the grille wasn't bolted to the duct else he'd quickly choke within the confines of the duct.
Ripping the pin from out of the canister Jacquen slammed his fist upon the grille watched with glee as both it and the smoke grenade dropped to the floor with a crash, before dropping head first after it into the room as it rapidly began filling with thick oily grey smoke.
Rolling as he hit the floor he wasted little time in dispatching the first slaver, slashing him across the throat with one of his long curved knives.
Lost and disorientated within the thick smoke Jacquen knew that the slavers would stand little chance against him, a creature used to operating in near pitch darkness, his superior sense of hearing and smell more than capable of locating them within the smoke. With an evil smile spreading across his lips Jacquen began to hunt.
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As the smoke grenade exploded Frank realised what was happening. One of their guys was in there. "Cease Fire or we'll have a blue-on-blue on our hands!" he shouted to the others quickly before drawing his laser pistol, it was similar to the past pistol called a beretta. As soon as the smoke cleared Frank would open fire on the remaining slavers however seeing who was missing from the clearing and knowing the capabilities of the Sicariuns he doubted there would be any slavers left in that corridor.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Trace saw others in the unit run at the building, and he continued to provide cover, sniping anyone he had a shot at. When it was clear that the majority of the fighting had moved to the interior of the structure, he switched his arm cannon to basic blaster and turned into the Triskelion. He hoped he wouldn't have to use the blaster...he wasn't that good with it...lunging while in this form would hopefully prove enough. He scuttled toward the building to rejoin the others...


His heart soared as his commanding officer gave him the go-ahead. Jack wondered if the Lieutenant knew he'd just asked permission to commit suicide. He didn't much care. With a little luck, in a few minutes he'd be beyond caring about anything.

"Come Day walker let us hunt these fools"

But first he needed to get the Sicariun into the ventilation system. "Whenever you're ready." Jack followed Jacquen out the set of double doors. Inside, one of the humans with the Collective shoved his weapon around the corner and fired off a few shots. The rain hit him in the face again and it would have blinded him had he not put the visor down on his helmet. The rain here reminded him of the rain on the planet he grew up on, constant and relentless, on his homeworld - not really a homeworld, just the one he spent the most time on as a child - it would rain like this, the dirt roads would turn to mud and the sky would be invisible for days at a time -- hidden by towering thunderheads.

He was the most visible in the downpour. The heavy armor, emblazoned with the red symbol of The Collective, made him easily recognizable. Jack's job was to make sure Jacquen got into the vent, then circle back into the building and provide covering fire as the alien rattled his way through the vents -- the hope was that the sounds of The Rampart would conceal the noise the Sicariun would make squeezing through.

A few of the remaining slavers - in a full retreat in front of the advancing PCC troops - took pot shots at him. Jack didn't mind, he really didn't mind if a sniper blew through his shields at that very moment and emptied his brain pan against the far wall. It was Jack's job to be conspicuous, it was his job to make sure Jacquen made it without being shot in the back -- that would just be insulting.

"Keep watch Day walker whilst this one climbs...if not back in two minutes then this one is inside".

Jack nodded as Jacquen leaped onto the wall, fingers finding the smallest of cracks in the concrete and titanium structure, before scaling it as easily as a gecko climbing a tree. Taking a knee, Jack fired a few times towards the slavers, and was only answered by a half-hearted smattering of small arms fire. He wasn't sure - his visor wasn't as clear as he'd hoped - but Jack thought he might have seen a slaver go down. Glancing up between bursts, Jack saw only the Sicariun's feet as they disappeared into the ventilation duct. He opened up his EC and pinged the Sicariun "Good luck." was all the voice message said.

First job done, Jack stood up again and - firing a few more shots over his shoulder - retreated back into the building. He passed Trace on his way inside, he nodded at him again. This time, the human smiled as well, Jack was relieved that it would all be over soon. He entered the building. Not bothering to speak, Jack grabbed the shoulder of a guy firing around the corner, and moved him aside "My job." was all he said, as he flipped the tripod on The Rampart out, ready to be braced against the ground.

He closed his eyes, briefly, and she jumped to the front of his mind again. Taking in a deep lungful of air, Jack felt it fill his body up. He could feel the sweat dripping from his back and running between armor and underclothing. "I'm coming." he whispered aloud - maybe even loud enough for his comrades to hear him, before he flung himself around the corner.

Right away, a few bullets ricocheted off his armor's shields. It didn't hurt when his shields were hit, it just stung a little, to let him know he was taking fire. Jack threw himself to the ground, Rampart extended out before him like a third arm, just as his shields reached breaking point. Jack depressed The Rampart's trigger and the light machine gun made an ungodly racket in the close confines, Jack would have gone deaf had his EC not automatically cancelled out the sound of his own weapon firing. Rounds dug up chunks of concrete and flung chips onto his visor. Downrange, the machine gunners were barely even taking fire, The Rampart was extremely inaccurate when fired at such a rate, but it wasn't Jack's plan to kill them, -- he was just a distraction.

One of the gunners lined up a perfect shot, looking down the sight of his gun, he could see right into Jack's face. He took a breath to steady his hand, before he squeezed the trigger on his weapon.

Just then, the grate above him broke loose and a smoke bomb flew down out of the darkness overhead, hitting him upon the top of the head just hard enough for his aim to be compromised. His shot went wide, and instead of killing the human with the machine gun, it slammed into his left arm and tore through his armor's sleeve. Jack stopped firing his weapon when he was shot, but his job was done. All that was visible were the billowing clouds of black smoke, and all that was audible, were the screams of the machine gun crew, as they were mercilessly cut down.

Jack lifted himself to a knee, leaving his weapon where it lie and examined his left arm. It wasn't a bad hit, the heat of the passing shot had sealed the wound upon making it. One of the problems with weapons that used beam technology instead of projectiles, the shots hit with such heat that they sealed the wound, meaning that the target didn't bleed. This was one of the reasons that prompted the PCC to integrate beam and projectile weapons into the same units. Beams didn't do the same kind of damage bullets did.

He looked around, not at all thankful to be alive and said "Damn."