(UNSC) Mission 9.75: Iowa Invasion

[Faclan]

(Some interesting history that hopefully won't happen to the Iowa; Here )

Roll Call/OOC thread; Here

Exterior outline of the Iowa; By MrKill
Yellow text says; Critical areas, these areas (excluding the MAC housing) include the CiC, Bridge, sensor processing, and engine rooms.


Interior super structure rooms; By Faclan
There would of course be many many hallways and the like around the ship. When posting please indicate which main section (mess or medical or bridge ect) you are closet too for when aliens show up to ruin the picnic.


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February 7th, 2552 - 22 days after Killinger Funeral, 56 days after Mission 9.5

The Iowa and her crew, still perhaps reeling from the sudden loss of the Old Dog Commander of this vessel, is currently on route to a ongoing battle between UNSC and Covenant fleets. Somewhat rushing back to help defend the UNSC refit station that the Covenant are trying to get too. The Iowa having left to respond to a distress call from a Merchant Vessel. It with four destroyers are returning to give the Covenant a nasty surprise. The Iowa should arrive back at the Battlefield in roughly twenty minutes. The crew still on alert from the Merchant hail and making their final preparations for the space battle.

The reported numbers for the battle is fourteen UNSC vessels against eight Covenant vessels with a Varric Heavy Cruiser leading them. However three of the Covenant ships have broken formation and are hanging back from the main push to get to the refit station.

Unbeknownst to the UNSC the Covenant have a plan for the Iowa after intercepted and translated calls between the Station and the defense ships let them know it was on route. Those two ships currently readying their boarding vessels and fighter escorts to sneakily send them the Iowas way. Make the UNSC worried about losing such an important vessel and let the Covenant vessel focus on their main target of the refit station. But should the Iowa be damaged or destroyed that would be a great bonus.

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UNSC Players (PCs)
Once the main thrust of the combat begins your job will be to hold the Iowa at all costs. But also work on helping the fleet and protecting the UNSC Repair station in this sector.
Please remember to post the main section you are closest too for when the boarders show up.

Covenant Players (NPCs)
Your job, if you so graciously volunteered to board the mammoth Human vessel, is to destroy it and slaughter all the weak useless crew! Sweep through the vessel with Holy Fire and purge it from this realm!
You may also choose to be a Covenant shipmaster if you wish controlling one of the Thirteen Covenant vessels. The Varric Heavy Crisuer will however be kept as an NPC as that will do things during the thread.
Please provide a basic mini profile if you wish to play Covie, like;

SPOILER: Click to show

Talpap, Unggoy Minor, Plasma pistol and two grenades.
On a boarding craft, terrified.
First combat mission, thinks the huge ship will be a huge graveyard, in File led by Jelly Minor.

Bal, Ibie'Shan Sniper, Beam Rifle, plasma pistol, duel knives.
On boarding craft, 'what the hell am I going to do with this INSIDE a human ship?'
Annoyed at being sent to board with his skillset, has a spotter with him with a Needle Rifle named Ken.

[MrKill]

Some more information for those of you looking to expand your knowledge.

docs.google.com/document/d/1ctshIG7s39-LWQkGFR-kBrBgDZU58nfdzoG6c8-isog/edit?usp=sharing

The above docs link is a write up I made a while ago regarding the UNSC Iowa's deck layout, along with detailing a few of the more popular decks.




I'd also like to note that the Iowa won't be 'surprised' by the boarding craft - and neither will the rest of the fifteenth fleet (15th Fleet); while they may not be aware of the cloaked Corvettes nearby, the Iowa is responding to an already ongoing battle - which means the fleet will be in combat alert alpha (general quarters / battle stations) prior to arriving in the system - and her sensors will be scanning for heat and abnormal movements in debris fields.

Since the thread will begin before the Iowa and her accompanied fleet exit slip-space, you'll be suiting up for combat or preparing for it, including preparations around the most vital areas of the Iowa. Consider this: The UNSC Pillar of Autumn was already semi-set up for boarding parties before they even exited slip-space around the Halo ring - this is because the Marines had prepared for boarding parties when the Autumn was engaged over Reach, and briefly on Reach.

[Cabel]

[Inner Colonies: System: Unknown: Current Location: Marathon Class II SuperHeavy Guided Missile Cruiser: UNSCS Iowa: Unit: 15th Fleet: Home of the 120th Marine Expeditionary Unit: Vehicle and Maintenance Repair Bay: Captain Mark Seamus 'Spade' Sorelson]

[Date:: 7 February, 2552: 22 Days Post-Killinger Funeral: 56 Days Post-Mission 09: Esperanza II]

“What have you been doing, Sir? I could have had a couple of my team climbing over and under this M-Twelve LAAV for you if you're that rushed for time,” the voice of a Staff Sergeant chimed in from behind him. The Staff Sergeant as Mark had found out had been the Chief for this particular motor pool, and while Mark had found the Motor Pool -- that particular one had been in tip top shape with Junior NCOs and Enlisted running around with what he'd known would have appeared to civilian eyes as disorganized chaos had been laid clear to him as the nose on his face as organized chaos. Seamen, and Marines rushed around with a purpose to clean whatever bay or to tune whatever Warthog variant their Staff Sergeant had been so kind as to assign to them. He'd missed those days of being an NCO, of having to scare the living snot out of Raw Recruits to the more experienced if only by a tad Enlisted. He'd decided to drop by and visit that particular Motor Pool Bay to see if he'd be of any assistance, and had with him in its holster the chrome-plated M6B Magnum with a spare magazine or two and his ballistics plate. He'd taken his MA5C with him, prepped and with a few spare magazines in his utility web harness to boot. The Iowa had been en-route to rendezvous with, render assistance to a Refit Station against the Covenant. As with every Marine, Seaman, Airman and the like aboard, he'd known too well to prepare for the event of boarding parties.

It had been nearly two decades since his promotion to bearing the double-silver bars which at first had been in the form of an informal battlefield promotion followed by his tour at the OCS and subsequent graduation making it permanent.

“My apologies, Staff Sergeant. I tried to get in touch with you, and to ask if you needed another pair of hands and eyes. You were busy. I don't blame you. You have a hell of team, and this bay is immaculate,” Mark said, wiping his grease covered hands with a rag before addressing the NCO. Spade had taken the time after having been shown around by a Corporal, a seasoned one at that through the bay they'd stopped at one of the M41 Equipped Warthogs that had seen a lot of action and hadn't been tended to yet. Mark hadn't been one to have let others do what he wouldn't have done himself, and had leaped right in with gaining permission from the Corporal of course and had started hammering out the frame with a precision only an Engineer might have dreamed of.

The Seattle-born Captain had worked towards and had earned a few degrees in a technical school including Auto-mechanics and the other in History decades before even having experienced the OCS at Mare Nubium. He'd preferred to have his hands and arms covered in engine grease rather than blood since grease washed off easier, and given that he'd built a civilian Warthog from one of those kits they'd sold with his eldest son Jason having been present to hand him a screw driver or a wrench or some other tool. He'd had to leave the Warthog in one of the vehicle bays of the three car garage at their house on the grounds of Ft. Lewis all those years ago when his orders to have rotated to the front had gone through. He hadn't wanted to have left his family, his wife and children or had wanted them to have grown without him around, but his had been a calling towards defending humanity as a whole against a genocidal coalition of species still bent on their genocidal holy crusade. Or at least so he'd heard from a few ONI agents in the past, including Agent Hyde.

The Corporal having the MOS of a mechanic with the experienced hard earned had been rather impressed by the aging Captain's abilities, and how his touch towards the Warthog had been both hard and gentle when it had been needed. Both of them had been more than certain that other Officers might have balked at getting their hands dirty, or at least those that had only recently graduated with butter bars. Mark had explained through a myriad of stories covering his vast experiences the kind of NCO and Commissioned Officer he'd come to admire, had even learned to respect and his late friend -- and Commanding Officer -- Brigadier General Jonathan Killinger had been among the best he'd served with. The Corporal had a few stories of his own covering his own experience, and had even surprised Mark enough to cause him to chuckle which resulted in the end as two Marines laughing at the insanity that had engulfed in Mark's case most of his adult life while in the Corporal's case only less than a decade if not a little more.

“No apologies are needed, Sir. Normally I'd like a little warning before an Officer comes down here to my bay, but I think we can let this one slide. I've heard a great deal about you, Sir, and I will say I'm surprised but not in the least disappointed to see an Officer elbow deep in the engine block of a Warthog. They're fine vehicles, if I do say so. My team has to be the best at what they do, and I make sure they stay that way. I'm sure you can appreciate that,” the Staff Sergeant replied.

“They are the best, and I can see you push them,” Mark said, still cleaning engine grease from his hands with the rag.

“I push them because they need to be the best,” the Staff Sergeant said. “I'm sure you push your Marines in your Company to be their best. Echo Company's reputation is known even down here. You're the first ones in, beat the hell out the Split-Lips and Methane Breathers. You take the fight to 'em,”

“I'm glad my Company's reputation has preceded it, and that you give my boys and girls such high marks,” Mark said, in utmost honesty without a trace of sarcasm. “I push my boys and girls to do their best. They have to prove it to themselves. I already know they can do it. We're all Marines, Staff Sergeant. That's what counts at the end of the day. If me or you have to find ourselves in a trench fending off who knows what on some forsaken mud ball or a pristine paradise that could have been on the cover of a magazine for a swimsuit edition, it's the Marine we'll share that trench with or foxhole with that we know will cover our backs. Your team knows it,”

“Flattery? That's nice of you, Sir, but I don't think you came down here to be a poet,” the Staff Sergeant replied.

“You got me. I'm not here to spout poetry. I'm here to help you. I'm offering my services, my own two hands, two eyes and the elbows to match. I'm offering because I need to get mind off of certain...events. I want to keep my mind occupied. Your team's a little stretched, but that's not any fault of you or your team. It's the amount of armor that's here,” Mark explained.

“If only every Officer worth their bars had that attitude, we might win this War a little faster or at least with a bit more fun,” the Staff Sergeant smirked knowing the aging Captain and even the Corporal understood his humor.

“You haven't seen the wild parties I throw. I expect the best. I give the best, but no strippers. I don't need that kind of paperwork, and it's the kind of paperwork that makes you start seeing double,” Mark joked.

[Mr. Prezident]

Ultra Balrak 'Nagu'nai
Creche of Indefatigable Zeal
In Preperation

Balrak had just finished his meditations and invocations of the Gods, sitting stoicly in his quarters. A beautiful lucidity had descended upon his mind, and he had taken to polishing his armor to pristine perfection. It was a spiritual practice he had taken to long ago. It was less about presentation and more about his connection to the warrior spirit. The simple task brought upon him a calm greater than any meditation.

The glistening silver armor was soon completely polished, and the rooks wasted away as the moment of battle approached. The Ultra ran his claws across the sigils representing his faith, honor, and loyalty amongst other things. He looked at his helmet once more, still bearing scars of his many battles over the rotations. Balrak donned his armor. Valrak donned his sword. He checked his combat harness for full functionality once, knowing he would double and triple check it before they deployed into battle.

---

Ultra 'Nagu'nai shouted at his troops as they assembled, ordering them to make double time. While he would not give his praise on the eve of battle, he was proud of his soldiers. Their discipline was sound; they needed only to prove their worth in battle. He rechecked his new compliment: two warrior lances, two standard lances of both unngoy and kig-yar, and one lance of skirmishers. He was still dismayed at the number of recruits among the ranks. The war with the Nishum had been bleeding the Empire, and it showed more than Balrak cared to admit.

The Ultra ordered his lance commanders to his side, reviewing the orders, "I will deploy with the first Warrior lance. The standard kig-yar Lance and 2nd warrior lance will move in to hold the initial boarding areas. The rest of the creche and the other reinforcements will move in to reinforce as quickly as possible, are we clear?"

His officers gave the affirmative. He ordered them to ready their troops for deployment, breaking up the assembly as another Ultra, Balrak's cousin, approached.

His cousin grabbed one hand and wrapped the other around Balrak, slamming their combat harnesses together in a brief embrace, "We both have the honor of leading the first legionnaires into battle, cousin. I cannot contain the excitement."

Balrak responded in kind, "Indeed, the chance to board a ship of the Humans worthy of a title - words can hardly express the feeling."

His cousin nodded, "may you win great honor in view of the Gods. Remember to trust the flow of the universe."

"Likewise to you. Earn your place amongst those immortalised in legend."

They gave one last salute with a fist to the chest before attending to their responsibilities. Balrak once again checked his armor before grabbing a rifle and grenades. His underlings equipped themselves as well. The Creche of Indefatigable Zeal was nearly ready and poised for combat.

[Faclan]

Talpap - Unggoy Minor
Creche of Indefatigable Zeal Vessel
S..strenght in numbers right?

Saluting with the rest of the rank and file below the Oration platform Tal was quick to shout back "For the Covenant!" With the rest of the troops before looking straight ahead again. Good Gods they were actually doing this. They really were going to try and go right over to one of the biggest Human ships he had ever heard of and take it over. From the inside. Really!? He was sure the Humans could just lock down all the doors and then what? What the Hells were they supposed to do then?! Ask the Humans nicely to open the doors and not suck out all the air?! Well...at least that wouldn't affect him that much. He had a full helmet and had his methane. But then he would be alone with the other Unggoy...

Humans wouldn't accept them changing sides would they? Was that just a story passed around to give the new claws the wrong idea? Gods why haddn't he asked questions or paid more attention!? OH GODS THEY WERE MOVING!

Taps File soon filing out toward the boarding craft. To strap in and be prepared for when it was go time.


Bal - Ibie'Shan Sniper
Creche of Indefatigable Zeal Vessel
Not a great Plan.

"Aye Ultra," Bal would parrot with Ken as did the rest of the lance that was with him. Yeah. Totally yes Ultra. Thank you so much for putting one of your snipers on the front line. TOO kind of you. Thankfully the sniper headgear he worse did a great job hiding his annoyances and all the faces he was making in Balraks direction as he stood there with arms crossed. Beam rifle over his back as he stood and waited. Watching the other files down below disperse from their ordered rows toward the boarding craft to be ready for the mission proper. He was sure they would be too as he glanced at Ken.

Poor Ken, he didn't have a shiny fancy sniper helmet on so he had to act like he didn't hate this plan. But the glance he shot back at Bal made it clear. This WAS a dumb plan and they were probably going to get killed. Maybe they could find a nice long hallway and just cover that. That would be nice. The two of them holding up their left arms before thumping them together.

Whatever happened they would take it together, as they always did. Needle and Beam blasting to keep them safe.

(So one NPC with you directly Mr. Prezident and one just in the general group.)