Author Topic: Mr. Roboto, All Your Machines Now Belong to Us (CVD - Telti Takeover)  (Read 1067 times)

Offline Goddess Petra

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Time had come to grow in strength. There was a bug biting at the heels of the cult. The Black Sun was becoming a pain and Petra desired to remove them for good. A list was made for each section of her cult. She wanted them to have growth and resources while dealing with threats. First of their list was one that would help with ship yards, ships and troopers.

On Decem X, Petra was putting her old Sith armor and attaching saber and blade. The ship was going out of hyperspace soon at Telti. It was the target for the droids it makes. The info for the world had countless droids for defense. Petra had the ship get ready to bombard the surface while ships go down to with her and others to take the facilities.

The armor felt a little odd as it had been so long. She looked around to see was ready and not. It was close to time for the hangers opening. Then over all comms her son, Nox declared that the ship was going to be exiting hyperspace and launch its attack on the surface. He always added transports would depart minute after the start of the attack.

Offline Fabula Cavataio

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In preparation for a battle against "countless" odds, a sane person probably would've actually prepared some sort of personal defense. Even an overconfident Jedi or utterly insane Sith would probably have tried to find some sort of armor or an energy shield or something. As it turned out, Fabula was so far removed from overconfident-or-insane as to make a comparison criminal. Really, her choice was more practical than one would assume, of course - she had practiced training in extremely light gear, and weighing herself down now would make it more likely to get shot. Still, battle preparations tended to leave a warrior with a little more cover than a few cloth bindings and loose pants.

In the hanger of her mother's flagship, Fabs ran herself through a few warm-up katas. She wouldn't have time to ease herself into it when she got to the surface, considering how strongly she was about to redefine "going in hot." A single Miy'til starfighter, armored and shielded to withstand reentry and flak fire, was her only protection against a fiery, violent death, but fortunately with the Miy'til's innate speed it wouldn't have to protect her for long. If everything went as planned, it would scarcely be two minutes between departure and the second she was close enough to the ground to jump free of that poor, doomed starfighter.

No preparation the Black Sun droid commanders could make would help at this point. To be fair, though, there was no real way they could prepare against a crazed Sithwitch berserker crashing a high-speed interceptor into their command center. It just didn't feel sporting for her to drop herself right in their laps without giving them some kind of warning of what was about to butcher them to the man.

She wasn't going to second-guess herself, of course. It was a chance to face overwhelming odds, and Fabula would never pass that up.

The atmosphere around her Miy'til was warm and had a slight orange glow, the result of Fabula's lightsabers weaving frenzied yet graceful patterns all around it. She had sliced at the air so much that it wouldn't have been surprising if it actually fell to pieces, shattering anything resembling physics. Twisting her body into a quick, leaping corkscrew, Fabs brought her sabers back down to the deck. She had enough control not to actually sear the bulkhead, but she came dangerously close to it as she panted to catch her breath. With a quiet smirk to herself, she deactivated both of her orange blades and jumped up into her fighter's waiting cockpit.
Her blood was pumping. Her frenzy was high. She didn't just want the battle now, but needed it. Just as Mirus had taught her, she had to have it to sate her bloodlust. She practically purred at the feeling, a predatory, toothy grin crossing her lips as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and got comfy in her seat."Fabula checking in and ready in hangar four. Give me the go signal, Noxie."
« Last Edit: 07/31/13 08:18:50 by Nessarose deWinter »

Offline Anon Nona

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It had all the touches of home. Glossy white walls, the warm glow of artificial lights, and a booming beat that could only come from a pair of punks that were daft. Though these sort of things Anon had to give up with his new life. Even his style of clothes had changed. Though one to always stand out in a crowd, Anon had a few rules to follow in what kind of fabulous was to be appropriate. At times, this synthetic stuff Anon adored was far more real than temples and the secrets they shared. Here Anon felt he could understand the organic sentiment of 'The good old days.'

Heeled boots clicking on the glass floor, Anon marched down the corridor that lead to his penthouse suite; a relic of Anon's entrepreneurial days. During the rise of Nona Cybernetics, the technophile made many of his largest breakthroughs on this very planet. Though he no longer had the licenses to make use of the factories, living quarters and a small lab had been maintained. Anon's personal vault kept many of his early designs and treasures, and today he was going to bring back a few things to Endelaan.
<<QWxsIHN5c3RlbXMgYW5kIGVxdWlwbWVudCBhcmUgZ3JlZW4u>> reported a small orb-like droid, floating a few paces behind Anon. <<UG93ZXIgaXMgYXQgb3B0aW1hbCBjYXBhY2l0eSBhbmQgdGhlIHZ hdWx0IGlzIHNlY3VyZWQu>>
"Now now, UHJldHR5IEJpcmQ=." Anon responded, spinning on a heal and continuing in reverse while facing his temporary secretary. "You know that is not why I am really here. What about the main vault?"
<<WW91ciAnZmFidWxvdXMgZm9vdHdlYXInIGlzIHNhZmUgYW5kIHN lY3VyZSBpbiB0aGUgcHJpdmF0ZSB2YXVsdCBvZiB5b3VyIHNsZW VwIHF1YXJ0ZXJzLiBUaGUgdGltZSBsb2NrIHdpbGwgYmUgYXZhaWxhYmxlIGluIHR3byBjeWNsZXMu>> Was the little droid's response. It whizzed up ahead of Anon, who spun to follow, and accessed the data pad in front of the penthouse suite. <<WW91ciBwZXJzb25hbCBzaHV0dGxlIGlzIHJlYWR5IGZvciBsYXV uY2ggb25jZSB5b3VyIHBlcnNvbmFsIGFjdGl2aXRpZXMgaGF2ZS BiZWVuIGNvbXBsZXRlZC4g>>
"Oh you are sooo helpful!" Anon smiled as he patted the ball droid on top of its dome. "Keep this up and I may hire you to replace my current secretary."

Offline Mirus Cavataio

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Ignoring the insane board-breaking text up there... things! Stuff! Activity!

Mirus was on a ship - Decem X, to be precise, not his usual vessel. No, that toy was at home. The Marauder had decided that he would lead by example - at the head of an army upon which he would slaughter the population of Telti. His face hidden by the silvery mask, Mirus looked every part the killer that Petra had asked him to be. He could tell Fabs was ready and raring to go. Good. She needed that. She had learned much.

He, however, had bigger plans this time.

This time, he loaded up a troop transport full of Jai and witches, knowing they would serve as the perfect escort with which he would sow discord and chaos amongst the populace - and bend them to his will. He had control. This world would belong to the Goddess soon enough.

Offline Celeste Cavataio

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Aboard the ship, Celeste was silent as she always were. Why she had decided to join was beyond her; to be removed from Dathomir felt almost like physical separation to the teenager, and her heart beat in her chest. She knew there were others here who could sense it. But what was the shame in that? One, even the granddaughter of a goddess, had every right to be nervous about a first intergalactic trip. Especially when one took to mind that it would include something that might potentially be violent, a front that, while somewhat trained in, Celeste had yet to deal with when facing strangers.

Figuring it was better to remain aside instead of run the risk of distracting anyone, Celeste leaned against the wall, near the exit of the bridge. Whatever orders would come, she would follow. And whatever hesitations she might have, she would damn well keep them to herself.

Offline Goddess Petra

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The ship exited hyperspace and began its run through systems locking to the surface. As the canons began to target shielding and large turrets, Nox broadcast over the ship com that the attack was beginning. Then the order for fighters and bombers came right after the notification. They were tasked with distracting defenses of turrets and droids in the surface. The hangers were open for the small ships. With the opening, ships went for their runs as the capital ship continued to unload shot after shot down onto the surface.

Knowing the stages her people were following, Petra made sure the landing parties knew to board their ships. Mostly warriors in the landers, some witches were there too. The warriors were more cult warriors and not Jai ones. While others were loading up the one with Petra was ready to go. The ship's doors closed and sealed before lifting up from the hanger floor.

Leaving the ship, Petra could see the fighters and bombers doing their runs and fly around to repeat their runs as the surface was turned into a parking lot. The capital ship was creating craters and putting debris into the air. Fighters surrounded Petra's transport ship as the ship went through the debris clouds to the surface. It was a light show of chaos with in the dust clouds that the blasts from fighters and capital ship. The transport ship rocked when the defenses fired their shots at the the cult forces.

Offline Fabula Cavataio

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The moment Fabula heard her comm crackle, she assumed it was cue for the attack run. Fabs started her fighter's engines and lifted off the main flagship's hangar floor before there were even any words coming through. Her lust was up far too high for her to back out anyway, and she was just a bit relieved when she heard the actual message. She pulled her sacrificial fighter out into a post-docking orbit and tried to wait.


Fabula was not a fighter pilot. She wouldn't be able to get through the planet's defenses without someone to take the brunt of the assault. Instead, she sat and waited. Her mission was more important than the lives of the initial fighter wave. All she'd do was wait a minute or three for the guns to get occupied with other targets, then slip through and crash herself properly into the main command building.


Easy as pie. Right?

Offline Anon Nona

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BOOM!


"Then he said 'If we override the array, we can get the COM application through the redundant HTTP driver." Anon laughed to the small crowd of holograms representing business partners. "But then I am all 'We need to reboot the virtual RAM capacitor!" Spinning around in his chair, Anon laughed as he excitedly kicked his feet on the side. A little pink in the face, a consequence of wine bottle in one hand, Anon continued to ramble on before one of the holograms cleared her throat.


<<Mister Nona,>> The twi'lek woman interrupted. <<You have yet to provide the board of investors even the slightest hint of reason why we should continue to provide grants for your projects and access to your resources. Since your leaving of Schism Corp, you have not provided us any of your designs. Mind you, there was your tech expo, but trying to kill all your guests is a cause for concern.>>


"TGlzdGVuLCBUYWlscyE=," Anon retorted, an edge to his tone. It was rare to see the technophile's face so stern. The flushed complexion ruined the effect. After a sway, Anon's lips dared to crack the expression with the curl of a smile. "Mister Nona was my father. You can call me Your Fabulousness." All solidarity was lost and Anon broke into a fit of laughter.


BOOM!


The holograms crackled, losing signal for a moment.


<<Is everything alright?>> A Duros cut in, <<We are losing your signal, Anon Nona.>>


Anon stopped and slanted his head to listen. He was oblivious to the decorations falling from the walls around him.


BOOM!


"I think there are rats in the walls." Anon announced. "You know, those droid rats. They eat metal cheese." Before any of the investors could respond, Anon lazily poked the controls with the wine bottle. The holograms vanished and replaced with a wisp that hovered over the table.


<<...under attack!>> The wisp reported, pulsing in time with its shouts. <<Unidentified... bombing the batteries... the fighters.>>


"Pretty Bird!" Anon shouted, his voice straining to be loud. Before the assistant could arrive the wall exploded from the far side of the room, revealing a world on fire beyond Anon's suite. Swaying in his steps, Anon forced himself over to see the scene outside.


As the small droid finally entered the room Anon brought up a holo-display on his forearm. Lowering a setting with his finger, the rosiness left Anon's cheeks as he began to sober up. "Prepare the shuttle." Anon ordered. "And make sure the vault contents are transferred into the loading bay."

Offline Mirus Cavataio

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The Fury lifted off its pad and Mirus sat in its commander's seat, watching the view from the cockpit itself. It was so much easier that way, to watch the action, to let it unfold; space erupted around him and he had the joyous distinction of watching things burn. It wasn't a bad seat, truth told. He'd be first on the ground, or one of them anyway, and to watch Telti grow before him filled him with the longing for warfare and destruction that the Goddess kept him for.

 
The  Fury snuck through almost completely undetected. Dark, quiet, all but cloaked against the glow of space, Mirus and his small team just had to sneak down to the surface before anything else happened. Behind his mask, the Opitvus Res smiled. Time for some good old fashioned diplomacy.

Offline Goddess Petra

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The fighters weaved side to side as they worked their way down through the blasts towards them. Petra's transport shook from the concussionary explosions around them as they zipped through. Some fighters did not get through the rain of fire from the droids on the surface and on top complex. However, the transport did land in a hanger connected to the main facility. Petra and her witches and jai waited for the hanger to close before exiting the ship. They were met with droids that came into the hanger.

After they were cut down, Petra led her people into the hallway. The group was split up and each one went to cover the whole hall. The droids that came to attack Petra met quick ends. She was determined to get to the control room where the master computer was housed. The group was pushed to move quickly and only slowed down by attacking droids.

Offline Anon Nona

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((scroll to after the break for non-fluff))



Anon was hard at work already. With a pair of magnifying glasses sitting on his nose, providing the comical effect of giant eyes, Anon strained all his visible attention on the holoboard. Gliding the tips of his fingers across the light screen like a brush to canvas, Anon formed designs and patterns that quickly began to take form.


<<Your Fabulousness>> as the droid assistant was recently reprogrammed to recognize, <<The invaders have taken the main hanger. Your private shuttle is not available unless we can get past their forces.>> The floating sphere bobbled around Anon's head. <<Are you making plans for a counter attack? Defensive strategies, perhaps? A strategy to save the planet?>> In vane attempts to catch a glimpse, Pretty Bird was blocked by Anon's body at every turn.


Rocking himself back into his chair, Anon freed the view of the holoboard. "And that is how we will do it!" the Technophile announced. With synthetic excitement the droid dove in to take in its creator's work. Antennas drooped upon the discovery of Anon's true plans. "Perfection in its purest form, isn't it?" Anon smiled with pride.


What Pretty Bird would find on the glowing screen was set of robes, dark with a plastic shine, that cloaked the entire frame of light plate armor. "Now let's see how well I have been paying attention to my Sith companions."



Here is the good stuff.                                       Here is the good stuff.                                       Here is the good stuff.                                       Here is the good stuff.                                        Here is the good stuff.


With the use of the small lab at his disposal, Anon was able to quickly fashion his disguise. Making use of ultrachrome alloy with a plasteel composite for the body and Smartmesh nanodroid fabric for the cloak, Anon was ready to make his appearance.


"But not as Anon." The pale man smiled, the only thing truly being pale was his face framed by the black and yellow of the cloak. Raking his face with his fingers, Anon's visage lost substance as it turned soft-like. With the other hand, Anon brought up a faceplate of smooth ultrachrome. Black as the rest of the costume. "They face the wrath of..." Anon's voice shifted in pitch, taking on a deeper tone that echoed with metal, <<DARTH ABRAXAS.>>


<<Wonderful, your Fabulousness! Stupendou->> Pretty Bird was cut off as a taloned hand crushed around the droid's round shell.


<<Anon Nona is no more!>> The voice boomed, threatening to shatter the seemingly frightened droid. "Well, at least I need to make sure that they believe that I am." Anon's personality shift was a little startling as the former playful tone returned. "Wouldn't want to ruin the performance."


Tossing the droid aside, Abraxas' cloak pulled itself close, the fabric acting with a life of its own. Walking to the exit of the suite, the hooded figure removed a pair of black and yellow discblades and concealed them within the cloak. <<Those vermin are heading to the main control room. They can have the damned planet for all I care, but if they get access to the master computer, they can gain access to my private designs. Begin re-writing all files. 1,476 should fragment any residual data beyond recognition. I'll welcome our guests.>> Before leaving, Abraxas gave one final look to the disheveled Pretty Bird. "Oh, and as respect to my fellow technophiles, re-write all top of the line droid patterns, would you darling?"


Armed and determined, Abraxas strode into the corridor and impaled his forearm into a security terminal. Connections were made with the station's emergency networks, triggering the hazard protocols while downloading a virus into the system. Attacking the remote receivers of operations, the virus will act as a conduit to allow the Sith impostor to wirelessly hack any local terminals.


Fire doors began to slide close all around the base, containing survivors and invaders alike. All except Darth Abraxas, marching to head off the task force making their way to the control room.

Offline Fabula Cavataio

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After waiting for her opening, it was a terribly simple matter for Fabula to send her fighter into a nosedive directly into the heart of the factory's nerve cluster. She wasn't a pilot at all, but flying in a straight line at max speed while throwing all other power into forward shields was pretty damn easy to do. The fighter would inevitably be destroyed in the crash, but one fighter was nothing compared to the capture of an entire planet.


Eventually, Fabs started seeing the fireworks that was incoming flak fire. Explosions, red flashes in the air around her, and the brightly seizure-inducing lights of her shield flickering against every incoming attack all lit up her cockpit. She didn't care a bit. In fact, she might not even have noticed. In the sanctity of her cockpit, the only real activity was the steadily growing yellow glow in her eyes. She'd already given into her Rage by now. All she had to do was get to a place she could vent it.


There was one much larger explosion than the rest, and suddenly her fighter was a pancake on the floor of a room that was not designed to land spacecraft. The wreckage of the ceiling she had destroyed on her way in combined with the sparking waste that was all that was left of her Miy'til, forming a huge pile of waste and nothingness. The few remaining security droids in that room not taken out with the crash eyed the slag heap cautiously, scanning for anything resembling life. For several seconds, they saw nothing...


Then all hell broke loose.


Fabula didn't simply rise from the ashes of her ship; she exploded from those ashes, into a sudden torrent of motion that left copper-colored blurs in the air where her lightsabers had been. The combination of Juyo maneuvers and Force enhancement lent her speed unlike anything that a bunch of battle droids could muster, and within a few scarce moments of slicing flashlight swords and blitzing footwork, there wasn't a single moving being in the room. Fabula stood amongst the carnage, her lightsabers resting down near the floor, and panted with her momentary exertion. Her hair had fallen in her face from a combination of sweat and movement.


A few moments of rest later, she looked up towards the door and smirked, her eyes practically red with exactly how much anger she had allowed to consume her. Deactivating both of her lightsabers, she clipped them back on her belt and walked out of the room, near a door she had bisected in her frenzy. Behind her, a few sparking parts and pieces of her landing room fell to the ground, and one of the sliced droids had a fatal malfunction and minor explosion.


"Fabula here," she managed to speak into her comlink as she walked down the corridor adjacent to where she had landed. "I'm inside. Where am I going?"