TMNS5097
Mission 1.1 Evacuation of Rhen Var
Hey again!
Here's my mission 1.1 entry for the newly revamped 253rd Elite Legion RPG group!
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The most devastating part of the day wasn’t even how much paint melted off our armor.
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“So, I’m thinking a big claw on the left side of my helmet, sort of a half-and-half look, you know?” Clawdite says, explaining to us his new paint job ideas.
“That’s- no, no you can’t do that. We have a pattern already sketched out, remember?” Checkmate says, repositioning the crate in his arms.
I look over at the Twi’lek doctor that we’re assisting. She’s amused. “You can set them right there,” she says, pointing to the corner of the landing pad we’re on. We place the crates down, but I don’t feel any lighter. Something is wrong. . .something is here. The notion begins with a sound. A low sound; hard to hear but impossible to forget. Rhen Var is cold enough without the chill that rolls down my spine. We expected the Seppies to show, but not so soon. A massive bolt blazes through the air and decimates a single lattie keeping us company on the landing pad. Screams are coming from every direction, and most of them share the same voice.
I see Clawdite run towards the mess of flames. He’s after something. I can’t see him anymore. What is he doing? What am I doing? What is happening-- he emerges from the lattie pulling a clone who’s screaming in pain, but alive. I look around.
Checkmate is running off in the snow to help a civilian.
Habit is trying to reach a frightened child. And I . . . I am doing nothing. I’m back on Geonosis. Ink is right beside me. He’s hurt. He’s dead. I’m Ink. I’m back on Rhen Var. I hear a shot. I wake up.
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“It bubbled, don’t you see?” someone says.
“Yeah, but it didn’t run. Mine ran,” replies someone else.
“It’s pricey paint, it should’ve held up,” says a third voice.
“Shh, he’s awake,” says the first voice.
I feel a sharp jab at my neck, and suddenly I’m alert. My squad, beat up but smiling, stands around me in a medical bay recovery room. “Make the long story very short for me, please,” I say.
“Our paint got ruined and you got shot,” Habit says, “Because of the tragic event, we were sent back to ship. And since we didn’t want to leave you all alone, we brought you along, too.”
I chuckle. “How’s the evacuation going?”
Checkmate is quick to answer. “The evacuation went well- you’re proof of that- but Bravo base has been overrun.”
It gets quiet. We can only be thinking of one thing. The sheer amount of power it would take to overrun that base. The loss of lives.
“Then let’s get back out there,” I say, starting to get up. My squad doesn’t say anything, but my body does.
“Oh.”
---
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
-Matthew 6:34
Mission 1.1 Evacuation of Rhen Var
Hey again!
Here's my mission 1.1 entry for the newly revamped 253rd Elite Legion RPG group!
---
The most devastating part of the day wasn’t even how much paint melted off our armor.
-----
“So, I’m thinking a big claw on the left side of my helmet, sort of a half-and-half look, you know?” Clawdite says, explaining to us his new paint job ideas.
“That’s- no, no you can’t do that. We have a pattern already sketched out, remember?” Checkmate says, repositioning the crate in his arms.
I look over at the Twi’lek doctor that we’re assisting. She’s amused. “You can set them right there,” she says, pointing to the corner of the landing pad we’re on. We place the crates down, but I don’t feel any lighter. Something is wrong. . .something is here. The notion begins with a sound. A low sound; hard to hear but impossible to forget. Rhen Var is cold enough without the chill that rolls down my spine. We expected the Seppies to show, but not so soon. A massive bolt blazes through the air and decimates a single lattie keeping us company on the landing pad. Screams are coming from every direction, and most of them share the same voice.
I see Clawdite run towards the mess of flames. He’s after something. I can’t see him anymore. What is he doing? What am I doing? What is happening-- he emerges from the lattie pulling a clone who’s screaming in pain, but alive. I look around.
Checkmate is running off in the snow to help a civilian.
Habit is trying to reach a frightened child. And I . . . I am doing nothing. I’m back on Geonosis. Ink is right beside me. He’s hurt. He’s dead. I’m Ink. I’m back on Rhen Var. I hear a shot. I wake up.
-----
“It bubbled, don’t you see?” someone says.
“Yeah, but it didn’t run. Mine ran,” replies someone else.
“It’s pricey paint, it should’ve held up,” says a third voice.
“Shh, he’s awake,” says the first voice.
I feel a sharp jab at my neck, and suddenly I’m alert. My squad, beat up but smiling, stands around me in a medical bay recovery room. “Make the long story very short for me, please,” I say.
“Our paint got ruined and you got shot,” Habit says, “Because of the tragic event, we were sent back to ship. And since we didn’t want to leave you all alone, we brought you along, too.”
I chuckle. “How’s the evacuation going?”
Checkmate is quick to answer. “The evacuation went well- you’re proof of that- but Bravo base has been overrun.”
It gets quiet. We can only be thinking of one thing. The sheer amount of power it would take to overrun that base. The loss of lives.
“Then let’s get back out there,” I say, starting to get up. My squad doesn’t say anything, but my body does.
“Oh.”
---
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
-Matthew 6:34