Jackdaw

Text Adventuring

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Coulda deleted the facebook group and set RPG with a broken link for seven years

tbf I don't think people want their Facebook friends to know they roleplay anyway

@Mara

The most true thing.

I don’t want people I know in real life to think I’m a fckin nerd like you people.

Star Wars - Liberators

Josten I
Nammor Quarry, Groslk Reserve

---

“SK-1024, repeat your coordinates.” SK-1024 read the coordinates off the tactical readout displayed across his visor aloud into the open comm. “SK-1024, are you in a river?”

“Negative, Command, we are in the field due west of Central. We have vision on some kind of quarry. Moving to investigate.”

Lieutenant Josten Kannik, designation SK-1024, motioned for his partners to advance. Each of the scout troopers cradled an E-11, sights forward and prepared to fire. There was some kind of malfunction with the tactical network that had them jumpy, but orders were orders. Scout the periphery for the advancing column in the wake of the orbital bombardment, execute limited engagements with the local rebels, report in with coordinates where they found pockets of resistance.

Josten took a position on the lip of the quarry and looked through the scope of his E-11s. It was a depression hewn into the rock of Uslam by the local mining guilds. There were a few industrial structures down there that stood to be cleared. The scout troopers had dismounted their speeders and had proceeded on foot. Reports had come in that the rebels had cleared their line positions in the face of the orbital bombardment, so all that was left was to clear out any holdouts along the way to protect the Imperial column’s vulnerable flank.

His fireteam had been given the order to kill on sight. They’d found a couple of ragged stragglers, who he scoped out and put down himself with two precise shots from his long rifle.

He did a slow sweep over the quarry, and found movement. Something—someone—had made a dash from a structure built into the wall of the quarry. Two more followed, carrying blasters and garbed in the irregular combat outfits of the Uslam militia.

“Command, this is SK-1024, we have contact,” Lieutenant Kannik reported in. No response. Static. Had the comms gone down? “Command do you copy?” He heard blasterfire from the quarry. They’d made contact. He switched over to his fireteam’s commline. “Rebel contact confirmed, open fire and fall back,” he ordered, but again, no response.

Swearing, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope to line up covering fire for his team. He lined up his targeting sights on a woman emerging from the building, tall, dark hair, and squeezed the trigger.

---

Corte tripped. At that same moment, she felt the heat of a blaster bolt across her shoulder blades, inches from burning a lethal hole through her from shoulder to shoulder. She caught herself with practiced athleticism and rolled into cover behind one of the quarry’s buildings.

“Sniper!” she shouted over the din of shouts and blasterfire. Vash, emerging from the mine rail entrance, raised his A-300, in its targeting rifle configuration, to his shoulder and searched for the enemy above them.

---

Lieutenant Kannik swore as the woman fell. He knew it was a miss just as the blaster bolt flew. He searched for a new target, bringing the sights back on that building’s entrance. Rebel soldiers were pouring out of the entrance now, dozens of them, maybe more.

Target rich environment.

Lieutenant Kannik lined up a shot. He went to squeeze the trigger, but saw a glint from a corner of the targeting display. He paused for a heartbeat, or half of one.

He saw a red flash.

Star Wars - Liberators

Corte V
Phase Line Bravo, Grolsk Reserve

---

The order to retreat came over the comms soon after the orbital strike began, the green lances raining from the sky and falling on Phase Line Alpha and the no-man’s-land between Alpha and Bravo. The ground shook under the defenders’ feet as the turbolaser fire obliterated trees and cracked the earth. The soldiers stationed at Phase Line Bravo had cowered nervously behind the fortifications when the first turbolasers smote the earth of Uslam. As the order to retreat came through, and as Phase Line Bravo took a direct hit, the line descended into chaos.

“Rose Command, this is Rose Two Actual, requesting evac instructions!” Corte shouted over into the commlink, struggling to be heard over the turbolaser fire, explosions, stray blaster fire, and shouts and cries. Privates Prevec and Miklovic, sweating bullets as they worked, were breaking down the Mark II’s as Sergeant Valkheva shouted orders over the din of turbolaser fire. Another turbolaser touched down dangerously close to the line. “Come in Rose Command!”

“Rose Command to Rose Two Actual, your evac is Rally Point Sigma, marked on your pad.” Corte looked down at the tacpad on her wrist and pulled up a small holographic map, which marked their escape point with a green icon. Rally Point Sigma was one of a half dozen or so clearings in the Reserve that the Liberators’ engineers had made to facilitate air landings. “Please proceed to Sigma for air extraction.”

Corte relayed the instructions to her platoon over the commlink, and then turned on Prevec and Miklovic, who had finished breaking down one of the Mark II’s and were struggling with the second. Screams echoed through the air as a turbolaser struck the line. “Leave it! Take the one and move!” The two privates split the weight of the freed Mark II, rifles slung over their shoulders, and rushed out of the gun nest, Corte behind them.

The platoon ran through the forest, the soldiers doing their best to ignore the screams and explosions around them. There were just over a dozen among hundreds of the retreating, all of them terrified. Orbital strikes were every soldier’s nightmare. Life and death were matters of luck and misfortune, every emerald lance a draw from a Sabacc deck.

They made the clearing after a four-minute sprint. Their ride, a jury rigged BT-45D, hovered a foot off the ground, ready and waiting to take them. The flight personnel waved them on as they approached, and the door gunner grabbed Valkheva’s hand and pulled her up. Next were the sisters, the Musvec twins, and the rest of Glaato’s squad. Valkheva’s was next, and then Vash. Finally, Corte, the last on the ground, reached up and grabbed a hold of Glaato’s outstretched arm. The Nikto sergeant pulled her up with a single arm, demonstrating his strength, and the transport began rising.

They were fourteen when they left Phase Line Bravo, and they were fourteen as they boarded the evac shuttle. It was a successful evacuation for Lieutenant Adala, for whatever that was worth.

Rose Company’s Second Platoon took seats in the passenger bay. The door remained open even as the ship took off, and Corte, holding onto the door, was able to observe the evacuation as they sped toward Lorya. Hundreds of soldiers, on foot and in vehicles, moving on the forest floor, falling back under a hellish rain of green fire to defend Lorya from under the canopy of the city's shield generator.

The true fight for Uslam would soon begin.

Star Wars - Liberators

Griffin Section

Names: Duo Antares (Griffin One), Cady Hawke (Griffin Two)
Species: Human, Human
Faction/Unit: Rebel Alliance, Griffin Section
Location: Ancestral Right, Uslam System
Synopsis of Role: Two A-Wing pilots stationed aboard the Ancestral Right. Space Superiority and EWAR Support.

Battle Group Deliverance

Names: Vice Admiral Kalam Otollo
Species: Mon Calamari
Faction/Unit: Rebel Alliance, Battle Group Deliverance
Location: MC75 Star Cruiser Deliverance
Synopsis of Role: Vice Admiral of a Rebel Fleet, commander of Battle Group Deliverance.

Star Wars - Liberators

Corte IV
Phase Line Bravo, Groslk Reserve

---

Corte sat in the gun nest, cradling her A280 with eyes on the wilderness no-man’s land between the lines. The distant sound of rockets and blasterfire echoed through the woods. The Mark II repeaters, on her left, were online and ready to fire at the first on her order. That order would be coming soon.

Behind her, Sergeant Valkheva directed her squad. “Private Previc, Private Miklovic, on the guns. Corporal Illievec, take Novacs and Syndulla on the line. Starr,” she added, addressing the platoon’s medic, “I want you behind the lines, on the wounded.”

“Lieutenant,” a gravelly voice addressed Corte, and she turned to see Glaato descending into the nest. Corporal Illievec and the two privates pushed past the burly Nikto on their way into the trenches. Glaato was a blooded veteran of half a dozen conflicts with the Empire across as many worlds. He bore the scars of those defeats. A particularly ugly blaster burn marked the left side of his face, just below the eye, where he’d taken a grazing shot from an E-11 on some distant planet. “First Squad reporting in. I have Corporal Jurvec setting us up on the line.”

“Good. How many casualties did the squad suffer, Sergeant?”

“Two wounded, one dead. Privates Da’lya and Juricec are receiving medical attention now,” he answered. Corte rubbed her temples with a sigh. The Second Platoon was now reduced to fourteen combat ready soldiers. It was her fault. She’d take three casualties over seven any day. “I didn’t see the Second Squad on the line,” Glaato said slowly.

“They didn’t make it. Corporal Xier and I were the only survivors from our post,” she said. “Sergeant Huvec and his men fought bravely.” They hadn’t. One of the privates, a jumpy, barely-trained Uslamer with more patriotism than common sense, recruited from Lorya to replenish the company’s depleted ranks, had opened fire prematurely and compromised their position. The Imperial troops turned their guns on the post after that first shot. Huvec and his rifles had held the line for barely thirty seconds against the barrage.

“Understood. Orders?”

“Wait. Hold the line.” Corte shrugged. Glaato crouched next to her and offered her a flask. She took it and threw it back, expecting water. It was whiskey. She swallowed a gulp with a wretch. Glaato took a swig after her.

“It’s going to be rough,” he said, offering the flask to Valkheva next. The short Uslamer woman declined with a wave and returned to her macrobinoculars, scanning the forest for contact. Private Previc and Private Miklovic, at the ready on the Mark II’s, stared intently into the distance, shallow breath visible in the morning cold. “But we’ll make it through.”

Corte pursed her lips. “How sure are you about that?”

“I’ve done a lot of fighting, Lieutenant,” the platoon sergeant said, “you get a sense for it. Life and death. The ground is good, the defenses are good. The men and women on the line are good,” he said, nodding to the gunners, both of whom had turned an ear to the conversation. “Very good. We’ll make it through.” He took another swig of whiskey, pocketed the flask, and stood to return to the line.

“Stay sharp,” Corte ordered as he left, returning her eyes to the kill zone. The gunners likewise turned their attention forward. “Let’s make it through.”

Star Wars - Liberators

Corte III
Grolsk Reserve

---

Forward, position, cover.

Forward, position, cover.

Forward, position, cover.

Corte and Vash traded off, moving from tree to tree. One would move forward, take position with sights down range, cover for the other. So on and so forth. Whistling through the trees heralded rocket-propelled death as the artillery rained on them, shrapnel scattering through the forest. They heard screams, shouts, cries both north and south of their position. Blaster fire too.

It took somewhere in the range of twenty minutes to cross the kilometer. Corte, fully suited, could run a kilometer in under ten minutes, but keeping under cover slowed the two rebels significantly. She couldn’t complain, though. Their slow progress kept them alive, and they reached Phase Line Bravo

Bravo was at the crest of a moderate incline, not a true ridge or hill but a significant gradation in the landscape. It was Lorya’s first real line of defense, stretching for a few kilometers through the Groslk Reserve. The line itself consisted of sandbag-lined trenches, camouflaged in the brush and snow. The Liberators had dug in dozens of blaster nests across the line, each fitted with an E-Web or Mark II repeater, and had erected hexagonal pre-fab pillboxes at intermittent points along the line. Behind the line was an array of anti-air weaponry, launchers and flak cannons which were enough to dissuade Imperial air support.

As they arrived, Corte pointed out a T2-B repulsor tank, camouflaged under a blanket of snowy pine branches and leaves, nestled on the line. Rose Company’s infantrymen were supported by an armor unit consisting of three of the T2-B’s, all of which were positioned along Bravo line. This one in particular was the Ironrose, the T2-B assigned to Corte’s Second Platoon. She and Vash had found their squad.

They were just two of scores of rebels repositioning from Phase Line Alpha. Corte looked down the length of the line to see dozens of soldiers scaling the incline and taking refuge behind the line. Less than she’d hoped. It seemed that the screeners at Phase Line Alpha had been bloodied badly in their first engagement with the Imperial reinforcements.

Vash and Corte scaled the inclined and made their way over and down into the trenches of Bravo Line. It was busy, with dozens of Rose Company’s soldiers rushing here and there along the line. Blasters were being prepped, power cells were being delivered, defenses were being reinforced at the last minute.

Corte and Vash pushed their way down the trench line to the Second Platoon’s gun nest. It was a small, space, lined with sandbags and with a wooden cover. It was well hidden on the slope. There, they found Sergeant Raya Valkheva overseeing the onlining of the two Mark II medium repeaters they’d placed in the nest. Privates Aarie Syndulla and Benji Starr had gotten the first one operational and were working with the second.

“Lieutenant,” Sergeant Valkheva greeted her with a crisp salute. Corte waved a hand. “You made it. Where’s the squad?”

“We are the squad,” Vash answered grimly. Corte nodded. She hadn’t given it much thought over the past half hour, but her situation finally came to her in a wave of nausea. She’d been in command of this platoon for less than a week and she’d already lost more than half a dozen of her men.

“Is Glaato back?” Corte asked.

“Sergeant Glaato’s five minutes out, ma’am,” answered a thin, wiry man in fatigues. “Corporal Illievec,” he introduced himself, “communications.”

“Inform me when he arrives, and get these blasters online and prepped, we’re anticipating hard contact within the hour,” Corte said, remembering her role as commander. “And get those anti-infantry turrets online. We’re going to make them climb over each other’s bodies if they want to get up here.” That was met with a few half-hearted cheers, but no one was particularly in the mood.

“Orders, Lieutenant?” Vash asked as Corte turned to leave.

“I need you on sharpshooting,” Corte said, “scope out our position and find a firing position.” Vash nodded, and turned away to find a spot.

Star Wars - Liberators

Corte II
Grolsk Reserve

---

Corte Adala slid down a snowbank and into a shallow trench, blaster fire on her heels. She waited a moment, exhaling delicately. Her breath formed a cloud in the cool, still air.

After several seconds, each of which felt like a minute or more, Vash crested the bank and slid down to meet her. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. That had been close. They’d traded fire with no less than a platoon of snowtroopers on the ridge. They’d made them pay in blood as they advanced, but there was no stopping the advance—that is, until one of the troopers tripped a landmine. They’d run for it as soon as the snowtroopers scattered at the explosion, holding their breath and hoping beyond hope that the stray blaster fire wouldn't catch them in the back.

The two of them had made it. Private Josko Bravic had not.

Corte motioned for Vash to keep watch, and the Falleen kept his carbine trained on the crest of the snowbank. Corte brought her wrist up to speak into the comm.

“Glaato, you still there?”

“Still here, Lieutenant,” the sergeant replied. “Are you almost here?”

“Got pinned down, lost a man on the way.” Corte leaned against the wall of the trench, catching her breath. “We have new orders. Screen is falling back to the rally point. We’re a click from you, I think,” she said, scoping out their surroundings, trying to remember where along the trenches she and Vash were, “I don’t think we can make it over to you. Too hot. Fall back to the rally, we’ll meet you.”

“Understood. Be safe out there.”

“You too, Sergeant. Out,” Corte replied, and the comm went silent. “Rally is a click away,” she said, hefting her rifle, “give or take a few meters.”

They followed the trench until they found a tree. They went up, over and around, concealing themselves from the watchful eyes of any pursuers. Corte crouched at the edge of the brush and scanned their rear through a pair of macrobinoculars, but there were no snowtroopers to be seen. They were clear, for the moment. They trekked on, staying low.

Star Wars - Liberators

Corte I
Grolsk Reserve

---

Corte ejected the A280’s power cell and inserted another, back pressed up against the sandbags. At least, against what little of them remained.

Her position had been eviscerated in the initial exchange, crimson bolts tearing through the meagre fortifications she and her squad had prepared. The roof they’d put up for their makeshift shelter was gone, and the occasional flake of snow fell on the open foxhole. Bodies littered the floor of the shelter. Only she and Vash were still on their feet. A third soldier, a young human male whose name Corte couldn’t recall, laid on the floor, tying his leg with a tourniquet.

The Falleen peered through one of the portholes they’d dug out, face strained and dark hair matted with blood. “No visual,” Vash said, lowering his carbine. Corte nodded.

“Sergeant Glaato, do you copy?” she asked, raising her wristcomm to her mouth. No response. The silence was tense. “Sergeant, come in.”

“Lieutenant Adala,” a rough voice responded over the sound of blasterfire, “this is Glaato.”

“Report, now,” she ordered.

“We’re under fire. Two wounded,” the Nikto replied. “Do we have orders?”

“We’re following standing orders, Sergeant, hold your position,” Corte answered. “I’m bringing my squad to you. Adala out.”

“We’re moving?” Vash asked.

“Can’t stay here,” Corte answered, gesturing to the squad’s devastated defenses. “If we take another engagement like that we’re all dead.” She moved to the fallen soldier and offered her hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. “What’s your name, Private?”

“Josko,” he answered. "Jasko Bravic."

“Private Josko Bravic, can you walk?” Corte asked.

“I think so.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” she said grimly. “Lean on me, we need to move now.”

They made their way out of the shelter and into the open, forested field of the Grolsk Reserve. With Private Josko unable to walk easily unassisted, they moved slowly. Vash took point as they moved from tree to tree, keeping as low as they could and moving as quickly as they could while in the open. Glaato’s position was a kilometer or so from theirs, and they could hear the blasterfire in the distance. And then, very suddenly, it was much closer.

Violent red-orange light was joined by the crisp smell of ozone as blaster bolts flew. Josko screamed as a bolt caught him in the side. The three rebels went to ground behind a wide tree as they took fire. Corte laid Josko against the tree as Vash returned fire. The private was unresponsive. She checked his pulse, and found it perilously weak.

Cursing, she joined Vash in defending the position. The Falleen did not shoot wildly. With a blaster in hand, Vash was a predator. Each squeeze of the trigger was well-chosen, precisely timed, lethal. Corte, stock to shoulder, peered around the other side of the tree. A squad of snowtroopers, now less a few soldiers, were scrambling for cover, replying with wildly inaccurate fire in their haste.

She lined up her sights, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.

Star Wars - Liberators

Rose Company

Name: Lieutenant Corte Adala
Species: Human
Faction/Unit: Rebel Alliance, Second Platoon, Rose Company, 7th Uslam Liberators Regiment
Location: Outskirts of Lorya
Synopsis of Role: Naboo native turned freedom fighter, lieutenant and commander of a small platoon of the 7th Regiment. Given command of the platoon after the previous lieutenant was killed in action during the taking of Lorya.

Name: Corporal Vash Xier
Species: Falleen
Faction/Unit: Rebel Alliance, Second Platoon, Rose Company, 7th Uslam Liberators Regiment
Location: Outskirts of Lorya
Synopsis of Role: A mercenary sharpshooter and recent addition to Rose Company, the Liberators, and the rebel movement generally speaking. Made a Corporal by virtue of experience.

Additional Rose Company Members
Sergeant Glaato (First Squadron)

Sergeant Nicola Huvec (Second Squadron)
Private Josko Bravic

Sergeant Raya Valkheva (Third Squadron)
Corporal Admir Illievec
Private Benji Starr
Private Aarie Syndulla