Gambler
Banned
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- Apr 23, 2009
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[OOC: This is a training/ranking thread of sorts and so far only Hakim is allowed in. If you want to join in, PM him, not me. This thread uses the mission for the EDF branch of Phoenix Corporation. And if you want to join, please read the mission dubbed as 'Desert Wind' before PMing Hakim.]
Tatooine, a desert planet by any other name, or so the few tourists who have placed foot on the surface have remarked in passing. The surface was ravaged by fierce winds caused by a lack of grounded soil and other required elements. Thus the weather could changed from a perfect calm to a vicious series of sand storms that could destroy entire settlements if the settlers are not prepared. The planet had one commodity though; metal ore. Not a very good or high quality ore, but it was cheap and easy to mine. Thus some corporations have thought to settle upon the surface. But most of them failed. Now the fierce three suns beat down painfully on the shifting sands, the twisters of debris aimlessly mulling around.
Sicarius Dentath, the son of a whore and raised on the streets of Coruscant, sat in the drop bay of Whiplash, a moderate sized dropship that hosted the team he had been assigned to and little else. He wore a mottled gray and tan helmet with matching cargo gear. Over the desert style cargo gear he wore desert edition M-51 Medium Combat Armor with black and brown plates to blend into the shifting desert sands. A XCar-20 Assault Rifle was splayed across his knees, the power chamber opened up as he placed a fresh battery pack in. Hanging loosely out of his shirt there was a dull durasteel dogtag that showed his name, rank and serial number in engraved numbers/letters. On his left hip rested a heavy pistol with an eagle engraved on the side of the barrel. Next to that there was a small tube like beacon that would send a signal up to Starlight, the main ship on this mission.
Around him sat his squad. Not exactly his squad, but he was part of it. They each wore similar gear with goggles showing a HUD with friend versus foe and place markers. Because of the nature of their mission, there were parachutes strapped to each of their backs for their departure. The parachute had two strings to it; a red one that marked the back up chute and the green that marked the primary one. These chutes were top of the line and had auto disengage locks so that they would automatically unlock as soon as they touched the ground to prevent injury or strangling oneself trying to cut the lines.
As the dropship neared 14,000 kilometers, a voice sounded over the com. "Prepare to drop," The voice said, static creeping through the mike making the words hard to hear. Almost in unison, Sicarius and his squad stood up and the dropgate opened up. Sicarius, the closest one to the edge looked out at the rushing blue sky trailing behind them and back down to the sandy surface. A steady trickle of doubt and fear started to creep into him when he saw that distance and the uncaring sands below. Indeed, it appeared as if the sands themselves wanted to swallow him whole. Before he could object to what he was doing, Sicarius jumped out, arms and legs spread wide. The rest of the squad followed shortly though he didn't notice. He felt the wind rip at the heavy cargo covering his arms and legs, slapping the fabric with such force that it hurt against the skin. He closest his eyes for a moment and opened them, checking his altitude on the HUD. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pulled the green wire and his chute blew out of his pack, sucking him up viciously for a moment. The rest of his decent was smooth after that. His chute disengaged as his feet touched the ground and he rolled to catch his balance in the ever shifting sands.
He looked up and saw the rest of the squad following shortly. One by one they fell to the ground, their chutes disengaging moments before impact. Once they were all there they began rolling up their chute. They buried them under a few inches of sand. They wouldn't be needing them anymore anyway. "So captain, where's our ride?" Sicarius asked.
Tatooine, a desert planet by any other name, or so the few tourists who have placed foot on the surface have remarked in passing. The surface was ravaged by fierce winds caused by a lack of grounded soil and other required elements. Thus the weather could changed from a perfect calm to a vicious series of sand storms that could destroy entire settlements if the settlers are not prepared. The planet had one commodity though; metal ore. Not a very good or high quality ore, but it was cheap and easy to mine. Thus some corporations have thought to settle upon the surface. But most of them failed. Now the fierce three suns beat down painfully on the shifting sands, the twisters of debris aimlessly mulling around.
Sicarius Dentath, the son of a whore and raised on the streets of Coruscant, sat in the drop bay of Whiplash, a moderate sized dropship that hosted the team he had been assigned to and little else. He wore a mottled gray and tan helmet with matching cargo gear. Over the desert style cargo gear he wore desert edition M-51 Medium Combat Armor with black and brown plates to blend into the shifting desert sands. A XCar-20 Assault Rifle was splayed across his knees, the power chamber opened up as he placed a fresh battery pack in. Hanging loosely out of his shirt there was a dull durasteel dogtag that showed his name, rank and serial number in engraved numbers/letters. On his left hip rested a heavy pistol with an eagle engraved on the side of the barrel. Next to that there was a small tube like beacon that would send a signal up to Starlight, the main ship on this mission.
Around him sat his squad. Not exactly his squad, but he was part of it. They each wore similar gear with goggles showing a HUD with friend versus foe and place markers. Because of the nature of their mission, there were parachutes strapped to each of their backs for their departure. The parachute had two strings to it; a red one that marked the back up chute and the green that marked the primary one. These chutes were top of the line and had auto disengage locks so that they would automatically unlock as soon as they touched the ground to prevent injury or strangling oneself trying to cut the lines.
As the dropship neared 14,000 kilometers, a voice sounded over the com. "Prepare to drop," The voice said, static creeping through the mike making the words hard to hear. Almost in unison, Sicarius and his squad stood up and the dropgate opened up. Sicarius, the closest one to the edge looked out at the rushing blue sky trailing behind them and back down to the sandy surface. A steady trickle of doubt and fear started to creep into him when he saw that distance and the uncaring sands below. Indeed, it appeared as if the sands themselves wanted to swallow him whole. Before he could object to what he was doing, Sicarius jumped out, arms and legs spread wide. The rest of the squad followed shortly though he didn't notice. He felt the wind rip at the heavy cargo covering his arms and legs, slapping the fabric with such force that it hurt against the skin. He closest his eyes for a moment and opened them, checking his altitude on the HUD. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pulled the green wire and his chute blew out of his pack, sucking him up viciously for a moment. The rest of his decent was smooth after that. His chute disengaged as his feet touched the ground and he rolled to catch his balance in the ever shifting sands.
He looked up and saw the rest of the squad following shortly. One by one they fell to the ground, their chutes disengaging moments before impact. Once they were all there they began rolling up their chute. They buried them under a few inches of sand. They wouldn't be needing them anymore anyway. "So captain, where's our ride?" Sicarius asked.
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