The RP
WarZone...
Page: 53
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Cloaked within an Impenetrable Psionic Stupidity Field, a lone and
much battered Tie Defender approaches the SSD_Insufficiently_Reluctant's
hangar... and docks. In the chaos about them, nobody notices anything out
of the ordinary as a black cowled and robed figure emerges from the fighter,
strides to the bank of elevators recessed in one wall of the hangar deck....and
dissapears.
The Emperor
<THE EMPEROR LIVES!!>
- Thursday,
August 12, 1999 at 18:54:31 (MDT)
*After waiting long enough wherever they are to do some repairs
to the interdictor, Savannah's crew finally decides to find out how to
get home.* Savannah: OK, where are we? Do we even know yet? Second-in-command
*puts up a map on the viewscreen*: We are here....and the Sol system is
over there.... Savannah: y'all are talented...kinda close to that star,
don't ya think? Oh, well, it'll only take a couple of minuets to get home....is
the hyperdrive working? Second-in-command: yes Savannah: good, lets go.
*The interdictor Still Unnamed jumps out of the system silently, heading
towards Earth*
Savannah
- Thursday,
August 12, 1999 at 22:05:24 (MDT)
...His ship being smaller, and more agile than the Insufficently
Reluctant, it takes much less damage from the explosion of the Iron Fist,
having a hull that can simply slide back together doesn't hurt much either.
His ship comes up close to the Insufficently Reluctant, his sensors revealing
several large holes in it's hull. He opens a channel to Jadesfire... Darva's
Patch Service, repairs while you wait. ...He grins at her image, as several
peices of his ship seperate, flying under their own power over to the SSD,
impacting lightly against it's hull, then melting out to seal the ruptures.
After a few moments his ship is much smaller, and her's much more functional...
Please do repair those holes, I will need those parts of my ship back very
soon...
Darva
(Lurker Extrodinaire)
- Thursday,
August 12, 1999 at 23:19:25 (MDT)
*Turning his ship around, the _Drakelord_ continues to fire into
the enemy.* Prepare my personal shuttle. I have a feeling some loose ends
are still out there.
Cyborg
Stan of CyKoLaJx, Inc.
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 00:15:23 (MDT)
*the interdictor comes out of hyperspace on the dark side of the
moon, and powers down, not wishing to join the fight before there are any
working weapons*
Savannah
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 00:33:52 (MDT)
Checklist: Savannah - Parked her Interdictor at lunar backside,
doing systems repairs. Cyborg Stan - Still engaged with various active
Empire ships, also doing repairs on the Drakelord. Admiral Jadesfire -
Supervising massive repair efforts on board her much battered SSD. TDK
- On the outer hull of said SSD, doing..you guessed it.. repairs on his
tank. A humanitarian (Klingonian?) gesture in order to spare the onboard
spiders from cardiac arrest or its nanotechnic equivalent. Lord Woodlouse
and Chief Woodlouse - Returning to their underground headquarters from
the devastated combat casualty area formerly known as Washington D.C. Q'res
- In N.Y. doing..more repairs on his BaseStar as well as the damaged and
destroyed HVIC orbital bombardment batteries. Darva - Running a lucrative
starship patchup business.. Hindmost - Have just recently 'recruited' his
first breeder subject and is currently transforming him to the Protector
stage. Vulcan - Have retrieved the late Zapper's dropship and doing what
Vulcan's do best. ie. Sticking their noses where it doesn't belong and
putting said proboscis at risk of getting shot off. Spiders - Working non-stop
on all Defense ships. The Emperor - Alive, injured, at large. Iron Fist
- Destroyed. Empire Fleet - Have disengaged from hostilities, pulled back
and doing their own repairs. Everone got pretty beat-up in the past week's
non-stop war, and are glad to take a breather... while it lasts. Meanwhile,
there is now a monstrous wound in the middle of the Australian Outback.
Heaving subsurface magma in torrents and gysers hundreds of feet high,
it casts a spreading dark volcanic cloud over the southern hemisphere.
While in Canada, a similar dense white cloud is present. Caused by the
flash-vaporization of gigatons of ice in the barren Northern Territories,
it casts a spreading pall over the entire northern hemisphere. A nuclear-winteresque
ice-age appears imminent.
Narrator
<Checklist>
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 01:38:12 (MDT)
*Cyborg Stan goes down and retrieves a friend of his from real life.
This has nothing to do with anything, but he'd be pissed if she died or
turned into an evil space mutant.*
Cyborg
Stan of CyKoLaJx, Inc. <I'm
tired and not thinking clearly.>
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 01:49:21 (MDT)
The fleet, now numbering less than 200 capital ships in various
states of disrepair, regroups at a secret location. Having been defeated
by the lethal combination of unorthodox weapons, tactics and trechery,
they now withraw from the conflict in order to regroup, repair vital systems,
and plan their next move. On board the stardestroyer Maker_of_The_Dead,
Fleet Admiral Stukov is briefed by Captain Alexei: "My Admiral, we have
confirmed the loss of the Fist with all hands onboard. Also, the Xanarious
are still revolting, and.." "Alexei, I *KNOW* the Xanarious are revolting,
but the question is, are they still rebelling?" "Yes, Admiral. Currently,
we have fewer than 200 ships of the line, and just over 4000 fighters.
However, many are in poor condition and we will need time to conduct extensive
repairs before we can resume the fight." "I see. Very well, Alexei, I want
you to move the fleet to this location." *Finger on map* "In 3 hyperjumps
to avoid tracking. There we shall settle in for repairs. Before we go though,
I want you do to implement that little going-away present we discussed."
"Immediately, my Admiral." *With that, Captain Alexei returned to his own
command, the ISD Obsidian Claw, to carry out his orders.
The Emperor
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 02:53:04 (MDT)
... The hand computer starts beeping shrilly, knowing what that
means, Darva immediatly orders the room he's in cleared, even down to the
nanotech spiders.Seconds later, three soft wooshing sounds are heard as
two nondescript men appear, and one nondescript woman appears. Darva drops
down to one knee, bowing his head. The man on the left speaks... "You've
done well, but I understand you spoke of the council, you know the punishment
for that." ...Darva's face tightens as he tries not to betray the sudden
fear he feels... "Still though, you may redeem yourself in our eyes. I
have news. Another of our operatives has seen something disturbing. I won't
explain the details to you, as you don't seem to be as good at keeping
secrets as we though" ...Darva winces again, cursing in the back of his
mind... "But I want you to keep a close eye on the human posters... few
though they may be." ...Slowly the three people dissapear back into lurker
space. After a few moments Darva dares to look up agian, knowing if he
even seems to fail for a second in his newest orders, his life will be
forfet...
Darva
(Lurker Extrodinaire)
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 03:11:55 (MDT)
A short while later, a squadron of 15 corvettes emerged from hyperspace
at different points around earth orbit and flew with great speed at atmosphere-skimming
height across the defensive formations. As the guns tracked and fired on
them, three suffered minor damage and one was destroyed before the remainder
vanished yet again into hyperspace. This seemingly pointless taunting however,
was revealed to be much more serious when all along the corvette's flightpath
there appeared innumerable flame-trails of delayed-activation proton torpedoes.
Warning klaxons sounded throughout the defensive formation's ships as they
prepared for evasive maneuvers... and were surprised and puzzled yet again.
Tracking of the torpedoes indicated they weren't being targeted at the
defensive fleet or the earth at all... Then the torpedoes reached their
intended targets. With a chain of orbital explosions, the debris of untold
numbers of wrecked capships from both sides began to fall towards the earth.
And the klaxons began again....
The Emperor
<Parting Gift>
- Friday,
August 13, 1999 at 05:23:40 (MDT)
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