Ballistic Builds
Mission 20, Objective Jenth: For the Republic
Commando Sgt. Weeper, command log:
“I have two wets on my 2, keep ‘em peeled for clankas.” Jorir was making his hard-line ARC trooper combat style known to us. He took his time adjusting to squad based operations but his dual DC-15’s, traditional kama and unique camouflage transitioned well to the commando gear. He appreciated the state of the art HUD and life support system but taking to a new style of combat takes far more getting used to. Such issues he took up were weapon specializing and heavy ordnance. He routinely remarked that “No one cog in the wheel should be more combustible than the rest.” I found his humor darkened by our first encounter in the void of space amidst the flotsam of his old cruiser, as if he was meant to be found in the dark.
“Copy,” I made the motion for Jorir and Bearer to rush under the door control balcony framed by the hydraulic support beams that ran into the towering rock. “Trando behind the canisters: 10 o’clock!” Jorir sent a rapid, suppressive salvo to cover for Bearer. This Trando was the same lizard we just failed to fry on the sniper’s ridge. Jorir missed, reaching the corner where the under balcony wall banked into the door of the Seppie base.
“Rapid entry going down,” Bearer started, “why won’t it stick?” The adhesive string explosives were delicate items. “Do we have-” Just as he offered up a request for extra thermal detonators, our re-supply crate dropped from the heavenly hands of the humming LAAT. Though we appropriately sent the ping, it couldn’t have arrived at a better time.
I motioned Pall to my side, “I’ll take the door security and you take out that Trando.”
“Copy sir,” We tapped our gauntlets together, a toast to our tidings of Republic glory. I swiftly swung my Westar into position, pre-aiming above the balcony. Up top, the Neimoidian and I nearly traded shots. With one bolt I nailed his chest. Pall rushed to the crate, dropped a knee and unceremoniously blasted the scaled xeno’s dome. “Clean,” he noted to himself.
Dust settled, breathing resumed to normal rates, and blasters cooled. The crate took a pelting from the Trando, and as it sizzled still, Pall and I swapped the jetpacks for standard commando backpacks. “Lucky our little gift didn’t go up,” Jorir stated regarding the holes plucked in the side of the re-supply.
Pall gestured to the sprouts in the rock, “Jaz trees, beautiful plants. Some of those darker flowers are only just maturing. The rest are still rather young. Shame we visit such wonderful planets like this just to blast some Seppie shebs.”
“Shame,” I concurred, peering up to admire the majesty of the fully grown jaz tree, resiliently withstanding the elegantly cut rock face and pristinely preserving tranquility amidst the charging advances of war. “They’re called jaz trees, you say? I’ll have to catalog that.” There’s only so much time for reflecting on the beauties of life during war. We all ought to get around to that kind of pondering after the war, since we already age twice the rate of regular folk. I turned back to the others. Handing some of those thermal detonators to Bearer, I saw his right arm had taken some serious hits.
“Let’s take off some of that plating.”
“No time for that…” he trailed as I gave the shoulder a smack.
“It won't feel too different if you get slammed by a Trando brute with or without the armor at this point. There’s less time to argue than there is to care for wounds. As important as momentum is, we have to ensure that the momentum is carried as far as possible. That armor will weigh you down now obey my order.”
“Yes sir,” with reluctance gone from his voice and a resounding resolve coming over Mourning Squad, it was time for rapid entry.
A few clanks sounded as bloodied plastoid plates hit the ground, “Men, there’s going to be double the fury, triple the numbers, and quadruple the plasma flying in those halls. Bearer, if you will,” he stepped back and detonated the charges, and the blast doors hit the ground vehemently. “Happy hunting, may dha werda verda be upon them!”
Weeper, out.
Mission 20, Objective Jenth: For the Republic
Commando Sgt. Weeper, command log:
“I have two wets on my 2, keep ‘em peeled for clankas.” Jorir was making his hard-line ARC trooper combat style known to us. He took his time adjusting to squad based operations but his dual DC-15’s, traditional kama and unique camouflage transitioned well to the commando gear. He appreciated the state of the art HUD and life support system but taking to a new style of combat takes far more getting used to. Such issues he took up were weapon specializing and heavy ordnance. He routinely remarked that “No one cog in the wheel should be more combustible than the rest.” I found his humor darkened by our first encounter in the void of space amidst the flotsam of his old cruiser, as if he was meant to be found in the dark.
“Copy,” I made the motion for Jorir and Bearer to rush under the door control balcony framed by the hydraulic support beams that ran into the towering rock. “Trando behind the canisters: 10 o’clock!” Jorir sent a rapid, suppressive salvo to cover for Bearer. This Trando was the same lizard we just failed to fry on the sniper’s ridge. Jorir missed, reaching the corner where the under balcony wall banked into the door of the Seppie base.
“Rapid entry going down,” Bearer started, “why won’t it stick?” The adhesive string explosives were delicate items. “Do we have-” Just as he offered up a request for extra thermal detonators, our re-supply crate dropped from the heavenly hands of the humming LAAT. Though we appropriately sent the ping, it couldn’t have arrived at a better time.
I motioned Pall to my side, “I’ll take the door security and you take out that Trando.”
“Copy sir,” We tapped our gauntlets together, a toast to our tidings of Republic glory. I swiftly swung my Westar into position, pre-aiming above the balcony. Up top, the Neimoidian and I nearly traded shots. With one bolt I nailed his chest. Pall rushed to the crate, dropped a knee and unceremoniously blasted the scaled xeno’s dome. “Clean,” he noted to himself.
Dust settled, breathing resumed to normal rates, and blasters cooled. The crate took a pelting from the Trando, and as it sizzled still, Pall and I swapped the jetpacks for standard commando backpacks. “Lucky our little gift didn’t go up,” Jorir stated regarding the holes plucked in the side of the re-supply.
Pall gestured to the sprouts in the rock, “Jaz trees, beautiful plants. Some of those darker flowers are only just maturing. The rest are still rather young. Shame we visit such wonderful planets like this just to blast some Seppie shebs.”
“Shame,” I concurred, peering up to admire the majesty of the fully grown jaz tree, resiliently withstanding the elegantly cut rock face and pristinely preserving tranquility amidst the charging advances of war. “They’re called jaz trees, you say? I’ll have to catalog that.” There’s only so much time for reflecting on the beauties of life during war. We all ought to get around to that kind of pondering after the war, since we already age twice the rate of regular folk. I turned back to the others. Handing some of those thermal detonators to Bearer, I saw his right arm had taken some serious hits.
“Let’s take off some of that plating.”
“No time for that…” he trailed as I gave the shoulder a smack.
“It won't feel too different if you get slammed by a Trando brute with or without the armor at this point. There’s less time to argue than there is to care for wounds. As important as momentum is, we have to ensure that the momentum is carried as far as possible. That armor will weigh you down now obey my order.”
“Yes sir,” with reluctance gone from his voice and a resounding resolve coming over Mourning Squad, it was time for rapid entry.
A few clanks sounded as bloodied plastoid plates hit the ground, “Men, there’s going to be double the fury, triple the numbers, and quadruple the plasma flying in those halls. Bearer, if you will,” he stepped back and detonated the charges, and the blast doors hit the ground vehemently. “Happy hunting, may dha werda verda be upon them!”
Weeper, out.