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  1. Today
  2. After sussing out whether the guppy was a threat, Sara spent the next few hours of travel in silence. Bored, the Zeltron mercenary side-eyed the guppy as she squirmed against her restraints in apparent excitement, despite what waited for them. You don’t order or ask for supplies of any kind because you have a surplus. That’s something that Sara learned very quickly. That meant that Dac had a shortage. And that meant there was a reason; Sara suspected the reason was not a pleasant one. But she had a history of unpleasant surprises so that wasn’t anything new. Sara didn’t really do ‘happy.’ And because of her own struggles showing positive emotion, Sara was amazed by the amount of positive energy buzzing from the little fish. It was almost endearing; almost--and only for about five minutes. But after an hour, it was clear that the guppy ran on bubbles and wore her passion on the sleeves of her robe like a naive activist on some kind of wild stimulant. For a time the Zeltron even wondered whether or not the girl had an off switch somewhere. It was a pleasant reprieve from the silent void of space and the oppressive sting of negative emotions that Sara was accustomed to, but it wore thin quickly. By the time they arrived, there was a shallow indent of the ship’s steering yoke on her forehead. Sara silently cheered for the conclusion of their trip but wore a mask of indifference that was betrayed only by the indent that still stood out on her red skin. When no stevedores - droid or otherwise came to assist them - Sara’s indent faded and her brow furrowed. Instinctively, her right hand slipped beneath her coat and tightened over the grip of her slug-thrower. The air of the dock was thick with silence. And while it was pleasant that the army of miscellany that assaulted her at every port of call was gone, something was very clearly up. But the guppy was moving. So if she was moving, Sara needed to move. Sara helped her load the sled, but her amber eyes never left the empty spaceport. This does not bode well… __________________________ As they rounded the corner toward the clinic, a swarm of angry hornets began to sting the underside of Sara’s scalp, causing her to wince and almost drop her side of the sled. Pfassk. Whoever thought it was nice to make all Zeltron’s empathetic needs a good boot upside their goofy head. She’d struggled through worse, but every step toward the clinic poked the hornets, turning their aggression until they hit well beyond a reasonable cap, which kept her occupied. And while Sara could physically see where they were both going, she felt detached from everything. She completely missed the guppy writing both of them off as Jedi. And she almost missed being handed a case of bacta and some hygienic protective equipment. “I’m better at making wounds… actually.” Sara said, groggily, her head filled with icy sorrow, fiery pain, spiky anger, acrid envy, and a wickedly explosive gray stew of other emotions all at the same time.”But I might be able to make something work. I’m getting paid right?” Sara winced. She contemplated the amassed victims and thanked whatever deity that would deign to bless her that she had an amazing immune system. But this was a disaster. How could they possibly make a dent? Sara… What did you get yourself into?
  3. "My. You're a funny little kitty, aren't you?" Dhon straightens up a little at her comment, puffing out his chest to emphasize the full extent of his rather athletically, muscular 6’8 frame. “I guess if it’s opposites day... so are you, Operative Sunrise,” he mutters briefly. "I know of who you speak. She's recently return to our fold so to speak. I can take you to her.... if that is your wish?" “That’s the mission. I clearly didn’t come all this way to admire the sand and exchange limericks,” Dhon responds with a little sarcasm in his tone. Pulling his Honor Sword from the ground with a firm yank, Dhon moves towards the speeder that the Black Sun operative points out. "Its but a half a day's ride from here, over Tusken territory and across the Dune Sea." “Hmph.” "Perhaps you'll get to see what a Jawa looks like if we meet any to trade with in our journey." Dhon finds himself rather amused by the thoughts that cross his mind as he climbs into the speeder. He barely manages to keep himself together long enough to reply. “Why? Do you plan to go find one of their midget colonies and taunt them by not trading the Jawas this diamond in the rough? From the looks of it, they might pay us not to trade them this buck of bolts and never return!” Breaking into a fit of momentary laughter, he calms down long enough to add, “I’m ready to go when you are, Sunshine. But remind me... how many hours are in a Tatooine day?” ___
  4. ((considering the time that has passed... legal double post... detour of plans after all...)) As Ro sat at the bar, looking left and right for any reaction, the female twi’lek bartender approached with a bit of a chuckle and a smile on her face. Ro glared at her while she cleaned off a beer glass with her towel. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him, “You want me to believe haven’t heard, padawan?” Ro raises an eyebrow at her, “Padawan?” The bartender pursed her lips and gave him a knowing glare, “I know what you are, cougar. That robe didn't fool anyone the moment you walked in. Don’t try to play dumb with me and act like you and your Jedi friends caught me in the middle of anything. You can tell your masters that everything has, is, and continues to be above board in my establishment. They don’t need to keep watching me like a hawk.” “What gave it away?” Ro replied with a satisfied smirk. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe your clothing underneath your robes? Or your holier than thou attitude," she rolled her eyes at him again. "I like to play games as much as the rest of um, but to be honest, I’m surprised the Jedi sent you to waste your time harassing on me. Don't you have very important business to take care of?” Ro gave her a confused look, “What do you mean?” The Twi’lek eyes him with irritation, “I wasn't born yesterday, Jedi. What? Don't tell me your masters found you too brain dead to bring along!” Ro frowned at her in response, “You got quite the mouth on you, you--” “I’m not stupid, padawan! You really are dense if you don’t think I don’t know about the general call for emergency help sent out to the Jedi. Or that the bacta shipment you guys are sending is in the middle of final preparations to leave.” “I--” “Don’t worry,” she began with a wink. “The bar will be safe and sound while you are gone. All Nar Shadda will be just fine without you. It ain’t like this place is suddenly a den of thieves with you all gone or something.” Waving at Ro, she gave him a coy smile, "I think you have somewhere to be, Jedi. Have a safe trip. I'll be here if you get back." That’s the Nar Shadda spirit I remembered. Snatching up his lightsaber, Ro left a few credits with the bartender and flipped up the hood to the robe he was currently wearing. Before arriving on Nar Shadda, Ro had done a little shopping and gone to great lengths to have the Jedi robes of the Mon Cal that he had come across on the Traitor’s Gambit recreated in his size. It would seem that they perhaps had belonged to a padawan that may or may not have gotten very far in the Order. Clearly, this costume and his ruse had work. At least to the uninitiated. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea of what he was about to do next, though. At least one thing has gone right. My tailor was actually worth the money. Small victory but I'll take a win at this point. Dashing back towards the spaceport, Ro asked one of the passer-bys for directions to the aid transport. Following their directions, he soon found himself in a restricted hangar bay. Attempting to casually walk by, Ro was stopped by one of the Alliance guards standing there. “Excuse me, sir. Can I--” Dropping his hood, the former Watcher opened his robe to reveal a lightsaber attached to his belt. “Uh... sorry, Mister Jedi. I thought that all of you had already been assigned and left with the first wave of transports.” “At ease, soldier. Easy mistake. I had a few errands that were required of me to handle for the Jedi before I could join the others. You know how the Jedi Order can be,” Ro ended with a grin. The guard smiles, “I know what you mean, Mister Jedi. You guys are busy people. And if I may say so myself, I really respect what you guys are doing. It’s heroes like you that give us regular people hope.” Ro nodded, “That’s our job, soldier. Aiding people and providing hope to the masses. Like on Chandrilla.” Ro nearly bit his tongue holding back his sarcasm. The guard gleefully nodded in agreement before leaning in towards Ro and whispering, “Between you and me, I’d be a little terrified to head to Mon Cal if the news turns out to be half as bad as the rumors I’ve heard...” Shrugging a little, the man leans back at attention before adding, “But then again, I don’t have all those fancy powers, right? Glad it’s you and not me! I would probably be peeing my pants if the Jedi sent me there. But I guess that’s why I’m still a guard and you are a Jedi hero.” Smiling and nodding to the man, Ro headed into the hangar. At this point, boarding the transport and interacting with the crew would be relatively easy without another Jedi present to identify him as an imposer. After all, if we were headed somewhere as bad as that guard was making it sound, who in their right mind would try to impersonate a Jedi and stowaway on this death voyage? Roshan decided to laugh to keep from crying. He was feeling less and less thrilled about whatever he was walking himself into. But then again, he had survived the destruction of Coruscant and the attack on Chandrilla. What could possibly be worse than those two unmitigated disasters? ___
  5. Operative Dusk Dusk chuckled briefly behind her usual demeanor, raising her finger to her chin as she grinned. "My. You're a funny little kitty, aren't you?" She poised as she stood there, her mind racing across his words with her memories of whom he spoke. As her face turned stern, she replied to him. "I know of who you speak. She's recently return to our fold so to speak. I can take you to her.... if that is your wish?" Her arm stretched out and she pointed toward an old beater of a speeder, dents formed all along its chassis, with different patterns and colors forming them together. "Its but a half a day's ride from here, over Tusken territory and across the Dune Sea." She smirked, opening her hand in offer. "Perhaps you'll get to see what a Jawa looks like if we meet any to trade with in our journey." Tusker & Swaav As the two departed, Swaav turned to Tu'can'ra with a worried look upon his face. "There is much darkness in the boy. Are you sure he can be an Agent?" He questioned the young Tusken, Tu'can'ra's own fixated upon the refresher they had disappeared within. "He has much to learn of the world outside, but he will. As for the darkness within, you know better than anyone the choice he will have to make Swaav." Her gaze shifted toward Swaav. "Or should I say Darth Oculus." Swaav glared at Tu'can'ra for a moment, then back to the refresher himself, a grave look on his face. "I've warned you all about using that name. That's no longer who I am." He spoke sourly, almost as if he wanted to spit upon his own grave. "But I get your point. I only pray it doesn't cost him his love, like it did me." His gaze shifted toward Tusker again, and Tusker laid her head upon his shoulder as he embraced the young Tusken, draping his arm across across her shoulders. With a sorrowful smile, she replied. "I'm sure it won't. There is a strong spirit within her. She may not have her memory, but she still has her skills. If he crosses a path she's not willing to follow, she will remind him of it, Papa." With that said, Tusker began to redress and shield her face behind her garb, memories of her childhood with Swaav and Helga sweetly crossing her mind as Swaav went back to his duties.
  6. Identity Real Name: Solus A.K.A: Homeworld: Ishvara Species: Shard Physical Description Without Robot Chassis Height: 9” Weight: 11 lbs Eyes: None With Robot Chassis Height: 8’7” Weight: 935 lbs Eyes: Red Age: 346 years old Hair: None Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Incomplete Hutt Security Droid Weapon: None Common Inventory: Scomp Link, Motion Sensors. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User Force Sensitive Alignment: Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Dark Side Trained by: N/a Trained who: N/a Known Skills: None Background: Many years ago near the end of the New Sith Wars, an Umbaran sith known only as Darth Shuburoth created a hidden lab and vault for her own uses at Ishvara. The lab itself was hidden away for the sole fact that she was paranoid of betrayal from the other sith. She became obsessed with creating and having perfect minions and followers, ones who could never betray her and would keep her alive all the time. She used sith alchemy on numerous species, creating monsters of all kinds, but never getting what she wanted. From mutating monsters to trying to reanimate the dead, Darth Shuburoth failed in creating a perfect, sentient minion. However, she eventually discovered the Shards. Originally she took pieces of them to try to craft them into a different type of lightsaber crystals, but was shocked to discover that these small rocks were alive. Excited for this discovery, she began to design and build droids that could allow these new, potentially perfect minions, to control their own bodies. She even began to experiment with draining the life out of some crystals, and theorized she could do the same with droid bodyguards outfitted with the shards. A minion who, with possibly a restraining bolt, would give their life to save hers and unable to resist working for her. However, between fighting in the New Sith Wars and experimenting on her other creatures, she was unable to complete the droid chassis before dying by the blade of Lord Hoth. Over time, the shards began to reproduce and make more of themselves in this strange home. The droid servants, hutt security droids that were gifts, continued their commands and made sure that the shards were well cared for, protected and hidden away. They also attempted to complete the droid chassis Darth Shuburoth had started, but without her guidance, the chassis lay incomplete. One of the shards, Solus, began to act differently compared to his brethren. Solus, at a very early age, saw “a world beyond ours. A world that has senses beyond ours. One more than just jolts of electricity and touch”. However, his ravings fell on deaf ears, and his family ignored him and continued to dream up philosophies and thoughts beyond what organics knew. Solus however became obsessed and continued to rave and rant about this world he had seen only once. With his ravings, he eventually earned the other shard’s disapproval, who in turned cut Solus off from all communication. Shocked at this deed, Solus became enraged and attempted and failed to forcefully reconnect with the other shards. Like Darth Shuburoth who had brought his kind there, Solus began to obsess with life. Though where the sith wanted a minion, Solus wanted a perfect family. One that would not turn on him. However, he lacked the ability and knowledge to reproduce. Still, he tried over and over, and with each failure, he grew more angry and screamed into the void around him.
  7. Yesterday
  8. The laughter echoed again in a raucous cacophony of rotted throats. Two voices were not heard, for the Archivist was looking at his dismembered thrall with what almost appeared to be pity. His expression softened as he turned back to Kern, portraying a world of sadness in a single look. His Legion began to converge around Kern, their voices echoing a thousand different words, some hands empty, some holding blasters, or other implements they may have died with. The Pure white eyes of their master blinked and the sorrow was gone, replaced instead with a look of disgust. “Listen to yourself, you are no Sith Lord. You act like a child who only wants his dessert, throwing a tantrum with little restraint or consideration. You are nothing more than a Dark Jedi.” He shook his white head and stood, leaning on a long staff of black metal. “You know nothing of the Sith. Those Lords who once carved their galaxy out of a million worlds. They did this.-” he extended a frail hand. “-With restraint, with patience. It was only when they gave into the base instinct of greed and power that they fell from their grace. Until you learn those lessons you will never succeed.” His voice became solemn. And the force moved heavily. Rooting Kern’s feet to the decking. “So will you fight and die, or will you learn your lesson?”
  9. Roran was quiet during his meal, belatedly realizing that the dark side did indeed have cookies, and they were quite good. Regardless, the events of today's training left plenty for him to ponder, though it would be later. For now, he had more to listen to it seemed. Onderon? He did not think he had ever been there, which was encouraging. New adventures in new places sounded wonderful, especially to practice these new skills. In his own opinion, despite the mysterious nature of the force, these abilities were simply new skills to master. Not to say they were not different, just that he would approach them as he did when he desired to learn any new skill. Roran nodded along, listening patiently, and carving her words into memory. Darth Sirena seemed a very interesting sort, much less psychopathic than Sith were usually portrayed as, which he was very grateful for. He was quite sure he would have attempt to kill anyone who tried to do to him what a normal sith was said to do to their apprentices. "Thank you." He spoke, before she left, leaving himself as soon as he spoke. There were more meanings to that simple thanks than could be said. It would not be wrong to say that Roran had been utterly lost, purposeless and drifting through life without any real desires. Now, at least, he had an idea of what to do. Instead of spending the night resting and coming to terms with his new situation, he spent most of the time practicing his new skills, particularly pyrokinesis. He felt an odd kinship with the flames he could summon, and so he felt compelled to experiment with it. He learned quite quickly that he could summon the fire with ease as long as he connected it to his anger. The problem was doing anything beyond that. Anger was a great focus to summon, but a terrible focus for controlling it. His solution became obvious after he realized that. He needed to apply the same lesson he used for telekinesis to this new skill. To move an object was simple, but fire was not so easily physically controlled. By the end of the night, he was able to move the fire in general directions, but he seemed incapable of fine control. He wanted to get to the point of writing his own name in the air, both for flair and for practicality. It would even help his intimidation! Well, regardless, he needed to get at least some sleep before he had to get up to leave for Onderon. Glancing at the time, he realized he would only get five hours of sleep. Nothing he hadn't done before, and not something he could have avoided with the excitement of the day, but he hoped it would not be noticeable. He did not want to disappoint Sirena over something so simple. When he woke, he found he still had enough time to bathe and change, thankfully. Once he found out if it could be done, he would love to attach the robes to his armor properly. It would be a mix of practicality and style! Which was a surprising thing for Roran to care about, but he found an odd attachment to the idea. After a relatively quick shower, Roran found himself changing into his armor, finding it more comfortable for an actual mission than the robes. As he was halfway done, he heard what he thought was a knock on the door. "One moment." He hoped that did not seem demanding or rude, but he doubted she wanted to catch him shirtless.
  10. THE RED CAMPAIGN Succession: Darth Heretic, Bishop of Battle, Darth Abaddon, Barohm Zar, Ar-Pharazon, J. Geki, Kakuto Ryu, Lord Dagon, Darth MacLeod, Hephaestus, Lord Exodus, Darth Furion, Darth Sheog, Darth Quietus, King Exodus GOLDEN RULE OF THE FIFTEENTH X V R E A W A K E N I N G S H A D O W / [Zero Epoch] Destruction of Carida Base HUNGER [ZE 200] The Spider returns to the fray, born from the hollows of Umbara, seeking vengeance for his kin against the traitorous Empire. Conflict unravels at the academy, and the unleashing of a devastating Sith Wyrm, rattling from hibernation wreaks havoc. Conscription of Imperial AI Kain Hail, Kain. [ZE 205] Rumor spreads of a reemerging Dark Lord, one from the Golden Era. This draws interest from those still patriotic to the old Empire, despising the Galactic Alliance set forth by Raven and the Jedi. Imperial AI Kain joins with the Spider; and with their alliance, an inflamed migration of power comes together as one. Roots in Nar Shaddaa ROOTS & WEBS [ZE 210] In the shadows, the alliance of imperial artificial intelligence and the dark power of the allfather assassin, enroot their influences. Military recruitment of loyalists and new blood, strong-arming pirates and raiders, illegal requisitions of necessary resources, favors beholden to the pair, arresting of shipyard blueprints and fleet conceptions. Black-mailing, assassinations, and a rising power curve to rival any galactic force. An irrepressible hoarding of control and might under dangerous discretion Control of Korriban RED PLANET [ZE 220] The Spider storms the ceremonial halls of Dark Kings, arranging a summons for all Sith to return home. They do, and in eye-opening numbers. The skies of the old Red planet seethe with the forces that the subtle alliance had forged, blotting out the skies with metal and black fire. Apprentices, Lords and Ladies, even Sith legendary by way of their exploits and name, all answering the call. Declaration as King / Reunification of the Sith ROYAL BLOOD [ZE 225] It was none other than Lord Exodus, unique to his name and all of the histories written in power. He declared himself the Dark King of the Sith before them all, leaving the air empty for a challenge to his rule. None did. Each of them had drawn on a respect for the last vestige of the infamous Sith Triumvirate, an esteem that the young Anzati warlord had carved for himself. Dark Lord Quietus before him was supplanted with this decree, bowing in compliance as the rest did. The Sith had reunited at last, structuring themselves immediately in a way that they had not seen for a decade. And it was here, that the galactic criminal Faust revealed himself, bowing before a new King before the two could sow seeds of conquest. Faust would not align himself to just anybody, but with the Spider, he found purpose. Arrival at Iziz, Hunt and Destroy Faust, Defense of Iziz THREE FACES [ZE 235] The Galactic Alliance had taken the bait. Lord Faust terrorized the familiar grounds of Iziz Palace, earning the attention of the supreme power of the galaxy. They gathered to him in droves, cornering the criminal Sith, but not before he could signal a new ally. Dark King Exodus arrived brandishing the first Super Star Destroyer seen in decades, halting the entire advance of the Galactic Alliance fleet while publicly disposing of the criminal Faust, defending Iziz City from terror. The Jedi and Co. failed to do so, and were dismissed from the planet. Force the Jedi Fleet to flee and Take Onderon SCARAB [ZE 235] The Jedi Fleet under Vos decided against their presence on Onderon, and absolved ties while fleeing before the armies of the Sith could lay waste to them. This was their warning. Stagnancy and inaction was a rot that he would burn away. The Sith claimed political governance through their monarchy, rebuilt the overall strength of Onderon, and unveiled themselves as a new Sith Empire. UNFINISHED NEED TO FINISH THE REST, AND UPDATE FUTURE CHAPTERS IN THE CAMPAIGN Defense of Onderon Despoil Kashyyyk [SHEOG] Takes Kuat Salvage the Black Sun Take Coruscant [Ca’Aran moves for Salliche] [Master Qaela moves for ???] __________________________________________________________________________________________ CONQUEST MARKER Dantooine [Farmlands, Major Export: Food] Yehveshi Minor (Border) Bogden [Outpost] Anaxes (Border) [Fortress World, Major Export: High Technology] Chandrila (Border) [Lush, Political / Major Export: Food] Coruscant (Border) [Galactic Throne, High Population / Major Export [Food & Medicine] Kuat (Border) [Orbital Ship Array / Access to high-level production] Onderon (Border) [Military, Culture, Jewel, Sithspawn] Umbara (Border) [Greater Dark Nexus, Military, R&D / Major Exports: High Tech, Exotic Goods, Creatures] Arachnakorr (Border) [Artificial Planet; Mass Production] The Maw (Border) [R&D, Unknown] Kessel (Border) [Spices] Ruins of Ziost (Border) Rafa V [Outpost] Raxus Prime [Industrial World / Recycled Metals, Textiles, Chemicals, Starships, Starship Components, Industrial Machinery] Mon Calamari [Seafood, High Tech, Starships, Weapons] Felucia [Slaves, Biotoxins, Exotic botanicals, Medicine], Nysillin spice] Nespis VIII [Research] Ossus [Outpost] Rhen Var [Outpost] Oovo IV [Prison] Kashyyyk [Electric Components, Natural Resources] Gromas [Mining, Phrik] Gala [Outpost] Vjun [Greater Dark Side Nexus] Korriban [Holy Sith Planet] Krayiss II [Obelisk, Dark Energies, Outpost] Artus Prime [Mining Outpost] Yavin [Corusca Gems] Serenno [Great Houses, Outpost] Thalassia [Outpost] Altyr V [Outpost] Dathomir [Labor] Taris [Luxury items, Tarisian ale, Technology] Mandalore [Outpost Only / Starships, Mercenaries, Beskar Iron, Technology] Concord Dawn [Outpost / Agri-World] Wayland [Sithspawn Breeding Ground] Myrkr [Outpost / Ysalamiri] Carida [Military] Hapes [Food, High technology, Luxury Goods] _______ Outlier _______ Dagobah [Dark Side Planet / Outpost] Bespin [Tibanna] Roon [Flame Jewels, Spice, Roonstones] Fondor [Tech / Shipyards] ___ Outside of Border Prospects Talus [Agri-World] Manaan [Kolto, Food] Nar Shaddaa [---] Corellia
  11. Damage Listed Above With the explosive response from the Imperial Forces, Admiral Godfrey winced. The poor Nyrtal, having been thoroughly focused by the Imperial forces, was flagging far behind the others of its class, the crystal blue paint, laid on by the Bothan Spaceworks mere months before, bubbled away in large sheets from concentrated bombing runs and turbolaser fire. The Bothan Assault Cruiser, while venting from a dozen breaches, still blazed away with turbolasers and missile arrays, the weapons crew deciding that they would do their utmost to continue the fight while non essential crew were evacuated. The Task forces knew their business, and if they were to defeat the Sith Armada, it would take a lot more lives than the few that had been lost so far. The Bomber Commanders knew their attack pattern, as did the corvettes of Vengeance and Defiance. They would do their duty. To the bittermost of endings.
  12. Last week
  13. Rruror’rur’rr glowered at the Black Sub agents as he picked hinself back off the floor. A deep part of him clawed at his soul urging him to lash back. He was, however, not a raging bantha or hungering sand dragon, he would bide his time. They would be returned their favor in turn. “Dragons and spirits.” He growled lowly to Rose, gesturing back towards the shower area she would have some semblance of privacy, and turning his back to Tu’can’ra and her magic wielding friend. The spirits swirled in Rruror’rur’rr’s mind pressing him. His obly response was to turn and look at Tu’can’ra and retort calmly, “Like she said, give us a mission. We either will fall or stand of our own ability. Load us on a metal beast and send us to the stars. Even there, the brothers shall protect and guide us.” And with that he followed Rose around the corner and out of sight where he set himself up to assure that she had her own privacy to dress in.
  14. Rose scrunched up her face as she thought about what the Black Sun tusken had just said, before getting knocked off her feet by whatever shenanigans the other agent had just pulled off. She pulled herself to her feet and helped Rruror’rur’rr back to his feet. Squeezing his hand in return. “Right. Uh yeah give us a mission, and some time for me to change into something other than a towel and were your personal vendetta squad or whatever you need.” She signed this out with her unoccupied hand as well of course, almost like a nervous tick. “Got hutts to kill or Jedi to assassinate? Seems like I may have been good at that.” She laughed and shook her head sadly. “But it's a bit hard to remember you know.”
  15. Xar sighed as he walked away from the two humans and the ship. “Yes, yes, we will make sure this...Hamilton gives us our...bacta” Xar almost said blue bacta and revealed to anyone listening that he was here for illicit drugs. “Just make sure to have the ship running for us. We would like to charge our batteries when we get back.” And with that, Xar was out of speaking distance. However, he still briefly communicated with the ship, establishing his communications system was connected to the ship’s. Now, if there was an emergency or a problem, at the very least he could call for help. True, it would be Co’bo answering, and Xar wasn’t sure if the pirate would be helpful or not (Xar was half tempted to tell Co’bo to not snort any of the ship’s fumes), but it would be something. Xar glanced around as he passed by through the streets. There were small, spaced out crowds of people, some trying to get around the city to do essential jobs, others trying to sell cleaning products at excessively inflated prices, and some were arguing with security officers about trying to get permission to leave their houses. Apparently there was some kind of virus going about. Perhaps that was why Krexel sent Xar instead of going himself to collect the shipment. Xar chuckled to himself. Perhaps there were advantages to being a droid. No virus would affect him and thus no one would bother... Just as Krexel turned a corner onto a nearly empty street, a large elderly mon calamari suddenly bumped into the droid. The calamari looked horrible to say the least. Its yellow goggled eyes had developed a painful red color from lack of sleep, its rubbery, sagging face had blue spots, especially around the mouth. Xar didn’t need that physical evidence to tell the calamari was having difficulty breathing though. The calamari was breathing and gasping deeply, and clutching its chest in pain. “Please...help me...need medical...” the alien begged, grabbing onto the droid chassis and coughing some translucent liquid onto the metal body. Xar flew into a rage. All the anger built up from the last few days, from hiding for months and avoiding rodians, to being stuck on a desert planet, to being sent to do a low level grunt job by some humans, to this thing touching him so unceremoniously and non consensually, erupted out of him. “You dare?!?” Claws flew out. Pale black ichor flowed out from the chest wound as the being fell onto its back. “You dare touch us? We are your superior! You are unworthy!” Xar stood over the body for a moment, watching the life disappear from the calamari. Then Xar cursed himself. This was not the time to get a dismantle on sight warrant. The droid glanced around, relieved that no one was around to witness the incident. Still, Xar needed to get away. Barely pausing to grab the being’s cred stick, Xar dashed away from the scene. Eventually, Xar found his way into the lower levels. The place was even more empty, and the lighting was a bit more dim with the lack of sunlight hitting the areas. Before Xar were several buildings all connected together, with the center one holding a neon light. It looked more like a nightclub then a cantina overall. The bright red words RAGING REVEN flickered to the nearly empty streets. Nearly empty. In front of the building, several security droids and two calamari officers were standing outside. While Xar was unsure what they were doing, he was sure that it wasn’t good for him or his contact. If this was an arrest or a shutdown, that would spell doom for his mission, and Xar… Xar paused. It was Agent Xar now. If this place was shut down, Agent Xar’s mission would be considered a failure. And that wasn’t allowed. Xar's mind raced. There were only a few light sources nearby, and the natural sunlight couldn’t reach this far down. The security droids looked like older models of the GU series from coruscant, and the officers certainly couldn’t see that well in the dark. And with all the lights connected… The newly appointed Black Sun agent got to work. As he approached the group of droids who were facing the cantina, he was careful not to draw attention to himself. Each step was calculated, avoiding the droids eyesight as well as any potential noisemakers. If he could get the blaster… Xar was now just a step away. One more, then he could claw the security droid, and take its blaster. Creak Xar’s chassis squeaked loudly, residue from the liquid the calamari had coughed on him. He cursed himself as the droid turned around, its blaster rifle whipping about. Not wasting a moment Xar reached and grabbed the blaster. The two wrestled for control of the weapon as the noise began to attract the attenion of the others. However, acquiring the blaster was not Xar's goal. Xar’s claws touched the trigger and made the droid open fire randomly. With a few pulls, Xar aimed the gun towards the power lines, specifically the one with the breaker on it. These droids and security would be blind, and he would have the advantage. As a superior droid should Xar thought to himself, pulling the trigger again and again while wrestling the droid.
  16. "Looks like you owe me a drink, stranger." Dhon is a bit startled as the random woman reveals herself. He looks overs both of his shoulders before turning back towards her with a frown. "And you are?" "Operative Dusk at your service. My name doesn't match, but it works. It was given to me due to how I shine beneath the moonlight... or at least part of it." Dhon mumbles under his breath in response, "Well, I don't know if I'd go that--" "So they tell me that you're here to deliver the belongings of an operative. Which operative do you speak of?" "Listen here, Twilight. First of all, for all I know, you are a tall Jawa with a lisp because well," he motions towards his mouth as he wiggles his index finger. "That definitely doesn't sound that proper basic and obviously you had a hood. So for all I know, you are what Jawas really look like under their hoods and you kick out the midgets of your kind to fend for themselves with their little midget part salvaging colonies... Dhon pauses to think for a second before pulling at the braided hair on his chin, "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen-seen a Jawa. So I might be on to something. Funny thing, though. Get this. The operative I'm referring to was supposedly killed by a Jawa! Crazy coincidence, right!" Dhon shruggles and raises the Mandalorian helmet and wiggles it a little in the air, "Didn't know we had a deep uncover operative working for the Mandalorians. This girl is crazy! Like seriously. But good at her job I take it? She's got this flower name. I keep forgetting it. Hold on a second..." Dhon twists the helmet and looks on the back of the helmet where the former Watcher of the Link left a piece of tape and a name, "Rose Car-eye-Aye-dus. I think I'm pronouncing that right. I don't know what her fancy operative name is but I do have her agent ID number written down on a piece of paper if that helps any." As he finally stops long enough to let the operative speak, Dhon stabs his honor sword into the ground and pulls a small slip of paper out of the utility belt around his waist and offers it to Dusk. The code Ro found and gave him was authentic as far as either of them could tell and it had led them this far, so Dhon is confident that offering the information might help clear up any further questions regarding who this "Rose" person might be. ___
  17. The sun rose and cast the grassland ocean in golden light. The dew evaporated with the sunrise, and meager moisture along with the lingering pools from the recent storm gave rise to an intensely warm and humid morning. Somewhere in the galaxy, there was an obscure sect of Force Users known as the Matukai. During the days of the ancient Republic, they coexisted peacefully with the Jedi Order, though the nomadic Matukai never developed the hierarchical structure and organized headquarters that the Jedi did. Unusually for a Force sect, the Matukai developed a philosophy that encouraged meditative martial arts and physical training to develop a weak connection to the Force into something stronger. Draygo had never trained under one of their masters; she had never even come closer than one light-year to meeting any of their followers, but she found their teachings and their techniques intriguing nonetheless. What this meant for Genesis, at this moment, was that the half-Miraluka boy was going to get his ass kicked. And then Armiena would help build his body back up, only to break it back down. Repeat as necessary. Over the next two hours, Draygo led him away from the shelter of McShipface. She scarcely gave him more than a few seconds to breathe at a time--any moment not spent running from the ship was used pushing Dantooine and other calisthenics. In between her panting as they traversed another kilometer, she breathed out her instructions. “You’ve seen what the Force can do for someone barely alive. You have rebuilt them. Now, see what it can do for something healthy. The Force can make you better than you are. Better… stronger… faster.” With that, Draygo drew the Force into her muscles. The effect was that she appeared to blast off across the plains, leaving a trail of pulverized grass and scattered wildflowers in her wake. The Jedi Master had just spanned the distance of more than a kilometer in seconds. Armiena would not rest while waiting for her Padawan to join her. When he finally joined her, he would find his master had discarded her cloak and was shadowboxing under the sun. With a shit-eating grin on her face, she bobbed and danced around an imaginary opponent while breaking their ribs and reducing their kidneys to mash.
  18. Adun-Levennia, the mottled stump of what had once been the home of some ten thousand light furred cathari. The intermittent rains, the heat from the reflected sand, had left the old tree’s base not much more than a charred and rock-like preserved stump. The life-giving waters of the the river, which had once been called the Ibel-Luinë in the half remaining language of the old Cathar, was now not much more than a stream of brackish mud. Either the Mando’ade had been especially good at “salting the earth” of their enemies, or the lack of any vegetation and animals betrayed the reality of this place. The dark side was here, present, in the very waters that the nomadic people had once called their home tree. She stood at the edge of the mud, watching Hailey beginning to search for its power, then she gestured to her Dathomiri and they began to set up camp. She could not bring herself to meditate, not in a place like this, the shadows were unknown, too ancient, and it betrayed her attempts to grasp at it. She would leave such investigations for the much more competent Darth Awenydd. Taking only Lilia as her companion, she walked towards the beach, crossing through the dark delta that carried no life. Only thick, disgusting mud. But their eyes were watchful, having been raised in such mud to seek for prey, they watched the eddies and flows for any sign of wistful and innocent life. But found none at all, not even an insect could be found, and they walked in silence to the beach whose white sand was being drenched by the resurgent river. It was there, out of the mud that Telperiën and Lilia knelt. The brackish water lapping at their knees. “Let your mind slowly drop away the peripherals Lilia, concentrate only on what you feel, then peel away each sense until you can only feel the force.” The girl nodded and Telperiën began to do the same.
  19. The clone commando watched as the Lord of the Sith considered him, a very dangerous place to be for someone without access to the force. All the Dark Lord need do was to reach with the force and with the delicacy of plucking a harp string, gently tear an aortic wall, or brainstem, and that would be the end of a long lived life. Was it a well lived life? Delta himself did not know. Its latter 20 years had been filled with increasing opulence until almost a point of mockery. His thoughts trayed there again, as they often had in the last few weeks since his induction into the Sith Military. Had the opulence of wealth really set him so far outside reality that he thought himself invincible and his friends mere pawns to be tossed around like so many bits of trash? To be used and thrown away? He had done the same thing but merely hours ago, risking his men for nothing more than glory. But no, that had been for a purpose. This was no adventure with various fallen Lords of the Sith to commit galactic terrorism at the cost of millions of lives. This Empire meant something different. Its inception may have been dirty, but they were going to build a new galaxy, a galaxy without terror, without the frivolous senate to hamper and harm. This Empire would be built as something new, something distinct. The foundations of the galactic order had to be ripped up before a new foundation could be built. The Black Sun, the SCORPION initiative, Red Shadow, Alderaaini Towers, all had helped destabilize the galaxy enough to shake off its chains and be rebuilt. But there was no honour there, Delta had enjoyed every minute of the debauchery, the murder, the terrorism, taking each violent act as something that could reach his buried self. To even get a hit of adrenaline. Upon the reflection of it all, the last twenty years had been a decidedly half lived life. One without a real purpose, like a deathstick addict murdering a family to get pocket credits. Except his addiction had been on a galactic scale. That hunger for death and violence, terrorism and credits, seemed to be gone now, leaving in its place and empty and embarrassed void. Perhaps his long companionship with the Mad Hutt had affected him more than he realized. But the voice of the Dark Lord cut him to the quick, pulling him out of his reflections with a solid rebuke for patronization that left Delta wondering what in the seven hells had happened and just as suddenly fearing for his life. He kept his face stern and unmoving, and gave a half bow as an answer. Giving the Lord the high road and surrendering whatever point may have been made by the statement. The Dark Lord was right of course, he had a long way to go for redeeming the mistakes of the Dark Sun. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Delta decided he would kill Zalis if he ever ran across her again. He accepted the box with a firm hand, glancing at the medal placed within before snapping the box closed and placing it under his left arm. It was a shocking reward for the so little that had been accomplished, and his heart fluttered with gratitude as he finished his bow and made a crisp salute. “Gladly My Lord. Thank you.” He spun on his heel and walked from the Dark Lords chambers feeling his heartbeat thundering at his eardrums. He finished the short walk to the barracks holding Lima One and peeked in through the doorway. Most of the men and women were passed out in their cots, and a few, likely still suffering from the Medperanazine dose, were doggedly playing pazaak with a pile of ration dessert cakes as chips. He smiled as they half rose to give him a salute before he waved them back to their seats. He needed rest and there was no need to wake up the men when they were so fried from the mission. He returned their salutes and quietly walked into the sealed officer’s quarters. He stopped in the refresher and slowly stripped his armour from his pressure suit, and placing the dusty, bloody plates into the refresher’s shower unit, allowed the water to run over them as he stripped off the undersuit and tossed it into the laundry basket. He placed the small box on the counter and then stepped into the shower. The water felt so foreign to skin that had been in armour for the last twenty or so hours, and he made sure to soap up completely, inspecting for any signs of heat or friction rash before he finished the shower. He inspected the armour plates while they and he dried in the drying unit, before he stacked them in his locker and put on a pair of grey fatigues. The only thing in the locker other than a few personal objects transferred down from his bunk on the Hellkite. He plucked up the box from the counter and walked to his room, which though it was small and spartan, was still very welcoming. He almost laughed as he saw an asleep Tares Blacktorin tucked into the bedsheets. Her tousled red hair, giving her an almost angelic appearance against the white pillows. He almost considered ordering her out, but his heart wasn't in it. So he simply lay down on the coversheet beside her. Planning to say something very scathing and hilarious if she should wake up, but before he could, he was whisked away into dreamless sleep. Well almost dreamless.
  20. Krexel & Co'bo As the freighter exited hyperspace, Xar still at the helm, Krexel opened a comm to the city of Morjanssik. Moments passed as Krexel placed his palm upon Xar's shoulder, having the droid hold position as they awaited approval, and after a few hesitant breaths, approval was given. With a pat on Xar's shoulder, giving the go ahead to land, Krexel and Co'bo left the cockpit and began preparations for the loading. Once landed, Krexel caught up with Xar near the loading ramp with a chuckle. "I've got a Farium contact nearby that I need to meet up with while we're here. Co'bo has been ordered to remain with the ship. I need you to meet our contact in Morjanssik's lower levels. His name is Hamilton Alexandria. Just look for the human with the twin Twilek dancers at the Raging Revan Cantina." Before Krexel departed, he opened a holovid of Hamilton just to be sure he met up with the right man as well as handing him a small datapad with the location of the Raging Revan Cantina. With a slap on the shoulder and a thumbs up as he departed, Krexel chuckled. "I've got faith in all of you Xar. Show me what you can do."
  21. Operative Dusk A cloaked figure steps out of the shadows of a nearby alley, removing the hood to reveal her almost silver white hair and eyes that was only eclipsed by her pale skin as she smirked with a subtle chuckled. "Looks like you owe me a drink, stranger." "Operative Dusk at your service." She spoke, a heavy accent curling her words as she spoke them that would mimic real world spy movies from the 1950's and 1960's. "My name doesn't match, but it works. It was given to me due to how I shine beneath the moonlight... or at least part of it." She chuckles again, although her eyes narrow in a serious gaze. "So they tell me that you're here to deliver the belongings of an operative. Which operative do you speak of?" Tusker & Swaav Swaav's arm stretches out and compresses against Tusker's chest, the older man's tone growing serious at his comrade's words of warning being completely ignored. With a subtle sigh, he stamps his cane upon the floor twice as a wave of energy rushes forth toward Roar Roar. Whether the Tusken avoids it or not matters little to him, but his simple display would only knock him off his feet and take his breath away. There was more than met the eye where Swaav was concerned and even Tu'can'ra knew well enough not to envoke his anger. "The darkness you feel inside Tusken is wild and untamed. You hold no hope if you do not weild the advice of allies." Swaav spoke in likeliest the most serious tone he had since their arrival. "Your aid is welcome, but you would do well to accept our own. Your companion knows well exactly that of which I speak. If you do not believe us, simply ask the Blue Rose yourself."
  22. “Damn these tiny viewports, how are you supposed to see?” Slaughter scowled through the field of hyperspace streaks in the last thirty seconds of their transit to Chandrila. His flag had been transferred to Kalidor. The Majestic-class Heavy Cruiser was a comparatively smaller warship than Fidelity, but of a more modern and hardened construction than the older MC90 chassis. Which was to say that the corridors were cramped and reinforced girders protruded through the decks; it boasted nothing in the way of creature comforts more extravagant than life support; the canopy of the bridge was flush with the super structure and afforded almost no visibility to the command crew. “....that’s what sensors are for--” came a muttering from the crew pits, interrupted by a shout of “Fifteen seconds!” from the navigation station. Slaughter took his position just as the streaks faded, to be replaced by the azure glow of Chandrila and the grey specks of the Mandalorian fleet. Not that the Rebel Admiral saw any of those--his eyes were flickering over a cloud of data from the armada’s sensors and the few surveillance satellites that were still transmitting to Rebel ships. There were a lot of Mandalorian ships in orbit. And a lot of fires planetside. A faint growling began to issue from his throat. His hands went to the comlink and the cheap plastic crackled in complaint under his grip. “Will flank planetside,” Slaughter responded to the Imperial Head of State. “Once we have orbital superiority, corvettes’ll provide support for our men on the ground. Let’s go.” He replaced the wired comlink and missed its housing. As Slaughter began to issue his orders and Kalidor’s sublight engines flared up, the forgotten comlink began to swing back and forth. His squadron fanned out towards the flank and would place themselves between the Rebel fleet and Chandrila. The Heavy Cruiser’s complement of corvettes fanned out above and below the task force’s flag, only a short distance ahead of the bird-like Kalidor so its heavier guns could provide support. They would be needed for the liberation of Chandrila and couldn’t be lost to the Mandalorians. And as usual, the task force’s A-Wings were only happy to race ahead of the formation, seemingly intent on engaging the basilisk droids all by themselves. Taffy 82 (Asset Denial Task Force)
  23. Rruror’rur’rr shrugged his shoulders, the international symbol of whatever, I’m not wasting time arguing with you. Reaching down, he squeezed Rose’s hand in a gesture of care and reassurance before speaking to the Black Sun representative before them. “We are warriors. Like I said, put us to work doing what we do best. What have you to lose. Otherwise, we can find our own way amongst the stars. You helped us. We are willing to return that favor. Align our causes. It is your choice.”
  24. The question jarred at Aidan's concentration, pulling his focus away briefly and causing a slight disruption to their connection. The ship slowly veered slightly off of its safe heading, but as he snapped his attention back to the task at hand he was able to help fix it. "I'm...not sure...valuable ship...probably shouldn't..." It was all he could manage to mutter as he rededicated himself to feeling out the strong gravimetric currents, finding a path of safety among the turbulent cosmic waves. Maybe Kel would have something to say on the matter, but Aidan couldn't afford more than that, lest he risk their entire mission again.
  25. I nudged my head in a slight thankful bow as she praised my considerate thought and climbed upon my feet as she rose off me, dusting the wet grass from the general area I could reach, and with a quick thought, reach my hand and my mind out with the Force, urging my saber back to me, careful not to beacon the ignition switch in the process. Until it became second nature, I would have to be careful with it, and that could very well take awhile given my previous stance upon wielding one in the first place. As I clipped it upon my belt, I gazed upon her own as she showed it. At first glance as she ignited one blade after the other, I pondered the aspects of her wielding a double bladed lightsaber, as in truth, it seemed to fit her. But as the expulsion of gas and blade tethered to liquid cable snapped my attention and nearly stopped my heart, I found myself quite mesmerized by her ingenuity. There was nothing like it in the archives I had studied nor was it listed in what I had downloaded onto my datapad for ideas and study. I had heard tales of her prowess with both combat and machines alike, most notably her inventiveness with the wolfspiders used in previous wars. But this, seeing it in action, removed any doubt I may have previously held. But as she spoke, I returned to reality and my mind grew briefly dim. War. It wasn't a term I had came to terms with yet. At least not fully. I saw first hand what it wrought to Coruscant, the devastation, the chaos, and in truth, it was what pushed me to fully commit to my choice of following the Jedi's path. But I had only seen it, not experienced it like she had. And part of me doubted that I would ever know the experience with it that she truly understood. Especially with the real world of my writer being plagued by a pandemic known as COVID-19 that was running rampant like wildfire across his globe. If only he could escape it into our world, perhaps he could avoid his own reality. But that wasn't possible. With a nod as Armiena took off, I quickly followed in suit. It was time for my training to become rigorous, this i knew. So i kept pace, letting my lungs expand to match, pacing myself. But after a few minutes, the brisk walk turned into a jog, my pacing hastening behind her. I could not tell where she was leading me, but i had come to trust her. Where she led me, i would surely follow.
  26. Lok's eyes lit up as soon as the Empire exited hyperspace, the confused look of worry and determination swirling in his gaze as he looked across the bow. It wasn't that long ago that he was on Coruscant, the once famous jewel of the Galaxy no more than a melted gem at the hands of the Sith. And in that moment, his thoughts crossed back to his own homeworld, that of Onderon and the oppression it faced and the likelyhood that it too could one day mimic Coruscant. Turning to Captain Greer, his gaze now fired with anger, he issued orders. "I need Maelstrom and Augustus at Position Felix with the rest of Sentinel at Position Phillip and what's left of Menace at Position Seal." Lok spoke with a stern but calming voice. "And I need them there now." Captain Greer went about relaying the issues, as Lok stood there in silence. As nervous as he was, he could not show it. He had always been a fighter, meeting his combatants face to face. He was no fleet commander and he knew it. But he could let his men around him know it. This was the assignment given to him by his Empress and the Jedi Grandmaster upon his return to Nar Shadaa, and he would not fail them. With a sigh, he grabbed the comm, ordering a direct line be opened with the lead ship, Herløv. "This is Lok Skyshatter of the Imperial Knights." He spoke, reaffirming his tone by letting his memories of Onderon fuel his determination. "By order of the Empress Raven Zinthos, you are entering protected airspace. Cease and desist, and you will be allowed safe passage back to wince you came...." As Lok was speaking into the open comm, the six corvettes began to maneuver and place themselves into position, klaxons aboard each readying each for what could come as ammunitions and ships were prepared in haste. All Lok had to do was give the final order and the Sith Empire would feel the true might of the Zinthos Empire. With an inward sigh, Lok finished. "Remain on course, and you will be fired upon." ******************************************
  27. Identity Real Name: Johanna Bryce A.K.A: Bryce Homeworld: Bespin Species: Human Physical Description Age: 32 Height: 6’ 3” Weight: 180 pounds. Hair: Vivid red hair, typically tied up in a short bun. Eyes: Brown Sex: Female Appearance: Johanna Bryce’s appearance is best described as “amazonian.” She is extremely tall and strongly built from having a perverse love of physical training. Equipment Clothing or Armor: Almost always wears her uniform, a military tunic and trousers with digital camouflage. In battle, she wears standard Rebel Alliance plastoid armor. It is similar in protection to stormtrooper armor, though the front breastplate has slightly stronger protection the plastoid is shaped in a way that it sacrifices some joint protection for additional mobility. In addition, the helmet does not obscure the face and she wears protective goggles for eye protection. Weapon: AC-15m. Standard issue carbine for Rebel Alliance marines. Hard-hitting, reliable, but slightly on the heavy side and requires a lot of maintenance. Offers semi-automatic and short bursts of fire in both standard blaster bolts and stun blasts. It is typically equipped with an underslung projectile launcher capable of firing a variety of grenades, canisters of single-fire buckshot, and even miniature flamer cartridges. Vibromachete: Very similar to a vibroblade, but the blade is heavier and longer. The flat of the blade is laser-etched with her name and service number. Standard-issue light blaster pistol. Weapon of last resort. Assortment of grenades. Typically carriers four in an engagement: 2 fragmentation, 1 flashbang, 1 canister of buckshot. Common Inventory: Miniature datapad built into her armor’s right bracer. Comlink built into her armor’s helmet. About 100 soldiers who are similarly armed and armored. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: NFU Alignment: Lawful Neutral Current Faction Affiliation: Rebel Alliance Current Faction Rank: Captain History Force Side: N/A Trained by: N/A Trained who: N/A Known Skills: N/A Background: Johanna Bryce is a quintessential professional soldier. She signed up for the Rebel Alliance (back in the old days) before she was even of the age of legal responsibility. She served throughout the commands of Onderin Starlisk, Forn Dodonna, and Bruce Slaughter; she has seen combat under the flags of the Rebel Alliance, the Galactic Republic, the Galactic Alliance, and finally the Rebel Alliance all over again. At this point the only friend that she still has from her time is Bruce Slaughter. Despite have lost nearly all nearly all of her friends, either to combat or the depravities of the Sith Order; despite all of traumas and wounds, she still maintains a pragmatic, even cheerful outlook on the war, whereas Slaughter has become dour and even a little sadistic. Ship Registration Name: Johanna Bryce knows only the barest fundamentals of shuttle piloting. She normally lets other people ferry her around. Class: N/A Model: N/A Manufacturer: N/A Length: N/A Armaments: N/A Armor: N/A Anti-Personnel Defenses: N/A Modifications: N/A Appearance: x
  28. 1x Victory II 2x Lancer Frigate 2x Vigilance Asset Denial Force (Cruiser with frigate and/or corvette support): Surgical Strike Green: A heavy ion cannon barrage disables one unshielded ship for a turn. Disabled ships cannot use abilities, provide support or escort, or issue additional star-fighter commands.
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