Open Invasion 'Liberation' of Llanic

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

With a distressingly loud 'thunk' Nor'baal the Hutt shoved his way through to the front of the LO-KD57 barge, and peered through the tiny window to his right to see two skiffs, heavy with Gamorreans and Weequay, and smiled. Today would be a fun day.

They made swift progress across Llanic, heading from a nearby settlement to the screening camp of the Independent Systems Consortium Refugee Agency, the large noisy ship making itself known in the classical style of the Hutts of old.

Corruption.

His pudgy hands grasped the controls of the cannon mounted on the vessels prow, and he narrowed his eyes to the sights. The raw power of such a weapon!

No. Nor'baal shook himself out of his diabolical daydreams. There's more than one way to skin a mynock! he reminded himself, before turning to his second-in-command. <Duapa bu gehlicbabahinh kinekeanedit, gee bu yae nankica doptkee che mah bauian> the gun for hire bowed and screamed out a set of commands which bought the barge to a halt in front of the camp.

As the ramp lowered, Nor'baal hovered forward on his sledge, bedecked in armour, a vast vibro-cleaver in his hand, and a cruel smile on his lips, as the administrator of the facility rushed forwards. The Hutt watched the assembled mercenaries fan out, and heard the powerful prow cannon of the barge whirring.

But Nor'baal was merciful.

"What do you want, Hutt? Why are you here?"

<Beuanka!> Nor'baals voice boomed across the open space between them, as he clenched his fist a melodramatic manner <Bu bohdon see tah danko gee ba bapahu cay bu pacmoko-ace Yih Lanka, chakaph doth lohonka bai hoohah du moova mee che beeska mu-moolee.> Nor'baal lied, not that the validity of his statement mattered <Hocan, uba gee mah cahcata bai faee, chee sa dotkola! Che du tee pacmoka-ala, bu lhonu Yih Lanka dokanu bu kon see bacepala. Jeejee nan cay mee tonnes see chaieya, piholei, an kiuke cuee um baw wah camai see tah woleuag.>

Nor'baal let out a thick laugh as the administrator stared up at him.

"What? This is an ISC world you foo...."

<Koupahaph, Babcenetkhonka. Peee see tah kacanka, tah danko, an vea bankop mah apiua, doth catabola, dee Yih Lanka! Bidcakeza- mo neyoha mee bahka!> Nor'baal boomed, silencing the administrator once more, as he raised his hands for added gravity.

Spoiler: Translations for Mobile (In order)

Lower the ramp, have the men fan out for my arrival.

Silence!

The citizens of this world have an accord with the merciful Hutt Clan, protection is guaranteed to them in return for payment.

Yet, you have my permission to rejoice, pathetic creature! For in our mercy, the great Hutt Clan extend the hand of friendship. We come with many tonnes of supplies, medicines, and much more for the people of this facility.

Incorrect, Administrator. As of this moment, this world, and everything before my eyes, is property, of the Hutt Clans! Submit - or face your doom!

 

[Vrashinal Karzinkaal]

Luckily for the world of Llanic, it was an ISC world, and that meant they didn't stand alone. The Grievous patrolled the fringe worlds of the ISC and the former pirates now flew under their banner. The Mandalorian cruiser would enter the system as reports of a Hutt sail barge flooded comms channels.

The war ship would enter the atmosphere and descend into low orbit, its weapons systems primed and ready for combat. The scanners would search for any craft that wasn't flying ISC codes and their hunt would lead them to a camp.

A deep shadow would cover the sail barge as The Grievous entered the fray. Disgust would adorn the lizards face: Slavers. Thats all the Hutts amounted to. Vrash would activate the speakers of his vessel and the old Pirates voice would come over them.

"Tah doth Uematky Vrash dee Cayoee. Wahey heee jonba mo cheespa wogha biy. Tah doth tee wa dokoi kuna kee logna."

<"This is Captain Vrash of the Grievous. Depart these lands or you will fired upon. This is not a fight that you can win.">

Vrash would turn to one of his men. "Notify the Threefold Fleet that we are engaging hostiles on Llanic and prepare me a craft and some men to board. Send others to evacuate the camp. These vermin have come to Llanic to die."

"Yes Captain, it will be done." One would run off to the comms to hail the ISC fleet and perhaps even an army to be mobilized.

@Nor'baal

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Today would be a fun day, his employer promised. “It had better be,” the hunter had promised. “Or I’ll be taking my disappointment out on Gurp and Burk.” Had that too been a promise? It didn’t matter. They were just dogs in a hell filled with hounds, and Nor’baal the Hutt had just brought that hell to Llanic.

As the barge that stank of Weequay druk sailed along, Jon Dromon was content with peering out the window so that cigar smoke could escape it. There wasn’t much else that would be escaping today if his employer had his way. Well, this is the way, as they say.

By the time Nor’baal was spewing his spiel that Jon struggled to keep up with, the bounty hunter positioned himself behind the sledge while the mercenaries fanned out. He stood atop the barge now, thinking of prize and punishment.

Those thoughts shifted as a shadow loomed overhead. Jon greeted the vessel with a kiss from his cigar. Apparently the captain of the no less dramatic ‘Grievous’ was here to save the day. He won’t be the only one. More would come.

Could Nor’baal’s…”army”...pull this little shindig off? Shit and shenanigans, if he doesn’t, Jon Dromon is stealing a skiff and skipping town quicker than a dog named Skip.

@Nor'baal
@Rhogar

 

[Jasper Holliday]

THEME​

Jazz had apparently chosen the worst possible time to visit home. Well, it wasn't actually a visit so much as his arm getting twisted as a native to help out with the refugee situation. Not the worst job but it wasn't that fun, either. Trying to break up a pair of pissed off Firrerreo squabbling over a tent was, to no one's surprise, fucking awful.

But you know what else is awful? Everything happening right about now. No shit there Jazz was, drinking a caf and minding his own goddamn business, when an alert came in about some wackjob in a sail barge had dropped his slimy ass in the middle of Llanic and was heading to the refugee area. "God damnit!" he shouted, closing out the text he'd about to send to that med student friend of his. "Making me do my damn job!"

And apparently there was a pirate ship in orbit trying to warn the local government about the Hutt and his merry band of jackasses? What the hell is going on!? When the barge and friends approached orders were given out to start evacuating the refugee camp for military action.

By the time the barge and its accompaniment showed up in the camp there was a mixture of local Llanic Peacekeepers, little better than hardass crime family enforcers, and the ISC Rangers working the camp. Ranger Holliday had his blast vest and helmet equipped with thermal vision and breathing filters, a standard issue rifle, his ever present sidearm, a medkit, and two each of concussion and smoke grenades. Most importantly for a place like Llanic in dealing with hostile vehicles, however, was something special.

Jasper double-checked a box of two spare smart rockets he'd lugged with him up onto an overlooking rooftop while the Hutt's speech was going on and armed the launcher he'd been approved to use. They might be illegal in much of the galaxy but on Llanic they were another good reason not to fuck with the people who ran it. Some very clever lad had drawn the word SALT in marker on the launcher's side during the speeder ride to camp.

"Drop your weapons and surrender!" the peacekeepers would announce over a loudspeaker right about as they'd open fire on the mercenaries from positions of mixed cover. Llanic cops weren't known for their patience.

Jasper, meanwhile, snuck his way toward the roof's edge to line up a launcher shot on the fattest barge carrying the fattest and loudest target, looking around the cover of a particularly shitty AC unit.

"We'll pay you all right you plague-ridden slug," he grumbled through grit teeth, "One big badda boom, special delivery."

The Grievous would be informed in no uncertain terms that firing its weapons within the confines of the city would result severe consequences. As it stood Llanic's defensive ships were eyeing the Crusader corvette warily.

@Nor'baal @Rhogar @Die Shize

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Nor'baal smiled as the Cruiser broke the atmosphere, and he smiled even more as the peacekeepers drew their weapons. Indeed, so great was his mirth that he let out a deep booming laugh, as he heard the engines of the cruiser bringing it closer and closer down to the planet. By his estimations, there would be some few moments before the cruiser could arrive, and, there was no way the camp could have been entirely cleared in such a short time.

The Hutt, bringing his laughter under control, merely kept his hands where they were after his bold proclamation, and boomed out in basic for all to hear:

"For shame! Two thousand tonnes of food, and medical supply's, given freely to the people of this refugee camp. Two thousand! We have worked for many days to get the supply's this far, escaping the pirate Captain Vrash of the Grevious who even now places them under threat with his war-making. But - to see the Peacekeepers threaten them as well? FOR SHAME!"

Gently, Nor'baal lowered his arms and ordered his men to do likewise, as his voice boomed out across the camp - prestigious Hutt lungs making his words carry the distance.

"You think I have not seen the weapons you have trained against us 'Peacekeeper'? You think I have come all this way, with this 'Vrash' snapping at my heels like a whelped PUP, only to deny the people of this camp the gifts I bare? Or to allow you to immolate them with your war-like ways? These people, these good people, have fled war - now this pirate seeks to invite one to their doorstep, and your Peacekeepers seem to want to help them!"

Nor'baal, reaching a crescendo in his outrage, now looked crestfallen. He turned his sledge back to the barge, and with one last booming outburst, shouted "Come. Let us leave - it is clear these poodoo, are far crueller than even the most diabolical Hutt!

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

“Drop your weapons and surrender!” came the courageous if craven call of these di’kut Llanic Peacekeepers. Lily Peacekeepers, more like. They were so out of touch with peaceful negotiations that they ought to have just opened fire without saying anything at all.

After all, outnumbered or not, shooting at the Hutt’s mercs was not a great way to get them to surrender. Fortunately for Jon, those mercs amounted to the contents he left behind on toilet trips.

Neither party was of the Duros’ concern. That Grievous though. Pirates were also pains in the ass prone to tearing tissue with as much warning as a Llanic Peackeeper’s and Jon wanted to hang onto his.

Negotiating his way out of harm’s way upon the barge, rounding his rifle from his back, the hunter lined up a shot at some of that makeshift cover, finger on the trigger just as a misplaced head came into view.

Before a bolt could fly, Nor’baal fired his own blaster as far as his tongue was concerned and the booming voice that blasted from it. It appeared to be enough to give pause to both sides as far as the initiation of combat was concerned.

With evacuations underway, a significant portion of armed personnel would be focused on getting refugees to safety, which meant less drukheads to contend with. Jon hedged his bets and lined them up with his employer’s hands.

“Say what you will about this Hutt,” the hunter blared, his voice amplified so as to be heard but not with the excitement of His Sluggish Excellency, the latter all but waddling up the ramp in his sled.

“Pirates are a plague, and if this bunch are your Peacekeepers’ privateers then they’re just posers and the bunch of you have been depressingly duped.”

Releasing a hand from his rifle’s barrel, Jon eased out a cloud of smoke, blowing it toward the opposition down low. “Peacekeepers and pirates…” Teeth bit down on the cigar, wedging it in place, hands on rifle to cover their departure. “What has the ISC come to?”

@Nor'baal @Rhogar @Mr. Teatime