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  1. Today
  2. Tusker, Swaav, Operative Dusk Tu'can'ra chuckles briefly, turning to nod at Swaav before the Elder blind man walked off, leaving Dhon, herself, and Operative Dusk standing there in waiting. Staring at his blade, she bows her head again, and speaks plainly from behind the mask that hid her face. "As you wish. Swaav will retrieve the Mandalorian. Feel free to take a seat until she arrives." That said, she motions her hand toward an offset bench near the refresher area and turned to walk away with Dusk as their forms disappear into the darkened area and out of the ill-lit blue of the cloning tanks littering the room. Dusk had other preparations to make. And when Tu'can'ra returned, she took a seat upon the bench herself. "Tell me about yourself?" Meanwhile Swaav had located Rru and Rose. "Take the weapon if you wish, Tusken, but remember my warning." He spoke in heed, his blind gaze shifting toward Rose beside him. "There is a Cathar here requesting your presence Blue Rose. He holds your helm in his hands." With that, he went to turn away but spoke one last time before he returned to his duties. "The Master is on his way." Operative Draven Silence was a bittersweet experience, both calming and lonesome. But few rather held a taste for both. Draven was one of those few. The Sands of Tatooine presented it perfectly, especially for a seasoned Veteran like himself, his feet pressing deep into the softness of its pressure with each step. Just ahead laid his destination, a small outcropping settlement long abandoned for the larger established where safety ran in numbers. The wind howled through the small openings and crevices that littered the crumbling buildings, and as he stepped up to the one that once played its Central piece, he coughed beneath his helmet and dusted the sand off his armor before he reached slowly for the pad. With a press of his hand, the door hissed open and revealed the darkness lingering within, soon enveloping his form as he stepped within. Within were the hauntings of its glory days, a small bar against it's back wall, a stage to the left where music and song once played. Dusted tables laid half buried beneath the sand that attempted to reclaim it for its history, and to the right stood a darkened form standing before a ghostly fire that no longer burned brightly. With a small chuckle, Draven stepped up beside the man, his hand offering up a gift, a familiar .48 caliber slug pistol forged of ultrachrome and its grip set with the ivory Mythosaur bone, a beautiful piece to say the least. Once it was accepted, Draven rubbed his gloved hands together and breathed deeply into them despite the lack of a burning fire as he chuckled briefly before ending the solemn silence with his deep toned words, the tone of a Mandalorian echoing beneath his helm. "The days of old are but distant memories. And the future calls whether we wish to hear it or not. Are you ready to answer his call?"
  3. Nok moved with the panicked crowd through the halls of the clinic, their alarm illuminating the way clearer than he could have seen with his eyes. But he felt clear headed, sharp, even strong. The fear...fed him. No, not fed. It galvanized him, pushed him, purged him. He’d been around fear before, and he’d channeled his own terror early on, but this was the first time he could remember being so close to so many soaked in blind, animal dread without being scared himself. The panic-charged emotions of the crowd, half convinced they were about to die, flowed through him and emptied him out, yet paradoxically surged into him and swelled him with crackling, boiling life. He could feel their fear like it was his own, but it was outside him and sharpening him instead clouding his mind, the difference between the hot blood in his veins and a cool drink of water on his tongue. The closest comparison he could make was to the first time he’d tried glitterstim, but without the heady loss of perception. It made him into his best self, focused and alive. Nok breathed in the clear air as he got outside and the crowd dispersed around him. No withdrawal, no manic desire for more. A drug without drawbacks. He smiled. If there was some cosmic intelligence guiding the workings of the universe, then it clearly favored people like Nok to give him such a gift. The clinic exploded, sending Nok crashing to the ground. Kriffing idiot. Feel smug a safe distance away from the exploding building. He got up and brushed at his ruined robes, but his mood refused to dampen. He could have sworn he’d sensed...something coming out of the clinic during the explosion. Which was strange, since without some kind of negative emotion from someone nearby he shouldn’t have been able to sense something moving so fast while he was distracted by...well, an exploding clinic. Unless the thing itself was… ...No, that can’t be… It was. In the spreading ripples of the crowd’s panic, Nok could see the woman from before standing up from the ruins of a gurney before beating what must have been fire out of her coat. He kept his distance as she promptly stole a hospital courier speeder. Kind of cold, considering I’m pretty sure you caused this, he thought as she sped off. I hope you’re not what I’m here for. You strike me as “difficult”. Though, I suppose I could have offered to let GH-7-X3 treat the burns… GH-7-X3 was in the clinic. A low, heavy pulse of negative emotion emanated from Nok, illuminating the wreckage and pavement in stark detail. Rage. That...that droid was custom. Years of upgrades. Thousands and thousands of credits on its mind alone. Dozens of databases integrated. I rewrote the root commands myself! His blood boiled as he realized the sheer amount of nerf fodder he’d have to wade through just to clean up this mess. He’d have to hire some outside agent at a premium just to comb through police evidence on the off-chance they recovered that hunk of scrap’s data drive! Jin was on record entering the place before it blew, so Meer Medical was on its way down even if they couldn’t link anything to him! And that wasn’t even getting into the mountain of credits and the months of work it would take to replace that stupid, useless thing! All because some untrained, unhinged, unstable thrill junky couldn’t keep her feelings from exploding a building!? Nok should have calmed down. He should have fought to keep himself under control and rational. But he didn’t. This anger felt good. Anger had been the first emotion he’d learned to properly wield in focusing the Force, and even if it wasn’t his strongest it still felt powerful, red, and raw. There was no way Nok was kriffing leaving without what he came for. This...offering, whatever that kriffing meant! Fine. Even if you're not what I’m looking for, you’re the only thing that’s even come close. And considering you nearly blew me up, I think I’ll… Nok stopped that train of thought, and took a deep breath, suppressing the anger. As hollow as it made him feel, the calm, little voice in the back of his mind had finally broken through. That attitude wasn’t going to get him anything but shanked or shot in an alley. He had to be calm, rational, and controlled. Revenge was like gambling. You were a sucker to play unless you could afford to lose. Remember that first lesson. She’s untrained. Find her presence in the Force. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Nok walked into the warehouse, keeping his irritation at a slow-burn to let him see. There were a few others aside from the woman, and a...combat droid?
  4. Still waiting for her Padawan, Draygo gave the new lightsaber a few test swings. As a double-blade, the longer hilt would theoretically give her several centimeters of advantage if wielded one-handed, but a few test slashes hinted at a weight balance that promised to exhaust her in a lengthy duel. The longer hilt itself posed a potential target. No, the double-blade was better suited for Armiena’s favored Djem So, where a two-handed grip offered additional leverage. But on the defensive… Draygo shifted her left hand to the reverse blade emitter and loosed her grip. From that guard, slight shifts of her wrist would send the blade dancing into unexpected directions. These attacks would have almost no force behind them, but muscle power accounted for very little with a lightsaber… She came out of her defensive squat upon hearing Genesis’ voice. Weary muscles cried out with relief. She should have realized: her Padawan had never performed a Force-powered leap, and this was after running the Half-Miraluka boy ragged over several kilometers. Taking a half-step over the side of her freighter, Draygo landed lightly with only a touch of telekinesis to absorb the initial impact. The only injury she suffered from falling nearly twenty meters was the yelping of her legs at the sudden exertion. “I have spent many years learning from anyone who could teach me.” Armiena murmured to her groundbound apprentice “From Jedi, my fellow soldiers, birds, beetles, many other insects. Spiders especially had much to teach me.” Armiena let that hang in the air for a few seconds. “That was a joke. Sorry. “The principles are identical: Bolstering your own abilities through the Force. An acute application of that same power that sustained you over that sprint, into your legs and ankles can drive you to leap many times higher than you might expect… with a slight touch of telekinesis for fine control. Please don’t hurt yourself.” Without any delay save to take another deep breath, Draygo’s Force-presence drew around herself. Her next half-step sank into the slightest of kneels, and she casually sprang back onto the dorsal surface of her freighter, nearly twenty meters above them. Even though the veteran Jedi deliberately undersold the preparatory kneel to drive home the point that muscle power mattered little when it was the Force that was propelling her upwards, it was still physical exertion. And by now, her quadriceps and calves were demanding to know why Armiena was insisting on this physical punishment after years of being out of practice.
  5. Skarr

    Tatooine

    The aging Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The most unmistakable of these three was an immense, echoing quiet, made by the things that were lacking. If there had been a sandstorm, winds and the hail of grit would have beaten upon the wooden slats of the inn, marching incessantly through the hollow spaces.. If there had been refugees huddled within the walls, the air would have been heavy with shrill laughter, of feet shuffling nervously upon the heavy planks which sharply designed the floor, of the calm, reassuring tones of an innkeeper. If there had been music, the swell of melodies that twisted together to ease the mind, but of course there was no song. In fact, there were none of those things, and so the silence was the only thing that lived here. Inside the rickety establishment a man stood before the large hearth, staring into the unlit logs piled within. His contemplation was languid, the only movement being the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and the infrequent blinking of eyes. Oxygen filled him awkwardly, a pleasantry that was rare from where he had spent his years, the wicked wilds. He breathed deeply, sparing no quarter to the refreshing luxury. In doing this he naturally added his quiet, to the dismal silence, the larger echoing one that consumed this place. They made a composite of sorts, a strange contrast. The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened hard enough you might feel it in the cold of the barren fireplace and the shutters drawn across the windows. It was in the panel of iron-black wood hanging above the bar, and the two swords which was mounted to it cross-ways. And it was in the hands of the man who stood before the soot-stained bricks, motionless, hands balled into tight fists. The man had true-Prussian blue hair, as cold as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he stood with the determined air of one who has recently reconciled with difficult truths. The inn was his for the moment, just as the third silence was. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, ensnaring the others within itself. It was as deep and wide as plains of sand that filled this barren world. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who was waiting to die.
  6. Yesterday
  7. Nia shook he head at Rose's words, an emotion playing on her face and in her mind she couldn't place. How could they sit here, able to help, and not? Nobody knew where they'd came from- not unless Rose had started sharing those details with strangers. And now they were letting people suffer en mass on the slight chance that their objective would be compromised? It bothered her in ways she didn't know she could be bothered. She stood, and was about to protest, to go and help anyone she could, when an explosion rocked the warehouse. The glow of fire reflected off of her black pupils, dancing in the dim light of the warehouse. She froze, watching in horror. How many dead from that explosion? How many more to follow in the aftermath. Her heart fell. All she wanted to do, with every fiber of her being, was to help them, and she couldn't. The mission demanded it. When Mjan grabbed her, she gasped, her discomfort pulling her out of her mind as she was pushed behind him. At the very least, she was relieved to see her master prepare to go aid them. at least until Rose ordered him to stand down. That relief was quickly quashed by what happened next. Rose called out the incoming refugees, and she was thrown like a ragdoll higher into the scaffolding. And then, before she could say anything, he'd drawn his weapons, threatening the frightened people. She jumped down- her own safety was barely considered. She reached out, grabbing his closest wrist. "Mjan, they're refugees. They need our help, not more threats. Put your weapons away. Please. Whatever our mission was, this is what we need to do now. Do not start down a path we'll all regret in the name of more war." She stepped back, moving between her master and the crowd. "This isn't right. You know that."
  8. "Who do you think I got this gem from?" Dhon mumbles under his breath, “Well, it sure ain't the Black Sun with as deep as their pockets are.” "And to answer your question, there are as many hours in the day as the twin suns decide to linger." Dhon looks over his shoulder at the surroundings around him, then above him to his left and his right. He then stares back at Operative Dusk. “Nope. Still not seeing the memo about opposites day. I’m glad they sent me Operative Helpful to answer all my questions. At this point, for all I know... you don’t even work for the Black Sun. I’m being kidnapped and sold to some Tusken raider camp or something. I was reading some pretty crazy stories about that on my way here. People disappearing in the desert. Tusken Raiders paying big money for the flesh of exotic aliens. They are all cannibals, right? How much they pay for someone my size? These muscles aren't nearly as tasty as the more fatty types,” Dhon uttered rhetorically as he took in the sights around him. He only asked the questions half-jokingly. From all the rumors he gathered in preparation for the trip, Tusken Raiders were known for their improprieties, evil nature, and banditry. They were the boogeymen of the desert. He wouldn’t be shocked if they had couriers intercepting Black Sun and other communications. “A sucker is born every minute,” Dhon mumbled to himself. As they began to pick up pace, Dhon moved his arm to shelter his nose and mouth. He had little interest in consuming sand or getting more in his fur than absolutely necessary. It was a dry heat, at least. He liked the dry heat. It reminded him of “home.” After seemingly ages, they finally arrived at their destination. It was a secret base, befitting a Black Sun facility or a Tusken Raider staging camp. “Sneeze in my pudding and call it Palpatine! Next you are going to tell me that Rose is right inside them doors, huh, Sunshine,” Dhon whistles as they approach what looks like a Tusken Raider. Holding his grip tightly around the Honor Sword resting against his chitin breastplate, he let Dusk (if that was really her “operative name”) do the talking and the introductions. He stood back a ways, judging his surroundings and his odds. “If you sent me into a trap, Ro... I swear I’m going to kill you,” Dhon grumbled under his breath a little anxiously. After Dusk was done, the Tusken "leader" turns her attention to Dhon. As the Tusken approaches and speaks, Dhon glances at Operative Dusk out of the side of his eye. "Welcome. Rose will be out of the refresher in a few moments. So your mission was to return her armor?" “Heh,” He laughs casually, “Let me guess. And you’d like for me to follow you to wait inside to the next room that happens to be full of a bunch of your friendly Tusken buddies... while we ‘wait’ for ‘Rose’ to return from the refresher? If it’s fine by you, I’ll wait here with Operative Sunshine for the blue flower peddle lady to get done doing whatever she’s supposedly doing.” Glancing around at the collection of characters assembled, Dhon takes a step back and makes a sweeping gesture with the hand holding Rose’s helmet, “But by all means. Don’t mind me. Feel free to carry on with whatever it is a camp of Black Sun Tusken Raiders and friends normally goes about doing. I'll be right here. I’m sure she will only be a moment.” Dhon calmly winks at basic-speaking Tusken, but the grip on his weapon tightens ever so slowly. If they are looking to eat him, torture him, or skin him alive, they won’t be getting this meal without a fight. ___
  9. "I understand your concern Nia." Mjan spoke in a gentle tone, his golden eyes portraying his own inner struggle to rip off his fake persona and aid however he could. But he shifted his eyes downward, Rose calming down as she saw the itch of her subordinate to be who he truly was. Before Mjan could finish, Rose stepped up and spoke for him. "He understands Nia. As a Jedi, he wants to help. But times are different, and this is war, the ugly truth of it. If he reveals himself, or you, then our mission to Bakura, our purpose in this war, is compromised. And it's an ugly truth we all have to carry." Before anything else could he said, an explosion down the way could be felt, causing Mjan and Rose to quickly arm themselves and gain a better sight of what it was that just took place. Rose, naturally, grabbed her blaster rifle and headed upward, her small and limber twilek frame quickly climbing the scaffolding of the warehouse they were quarantined within as she searched for a vantage point to not only see but defend if need be. Mjan on the other hand, grabbed Nia and quickly placed her behind him as he shifted his form beside the window he was gazing from. But all he could see were the smoldering flames a few blocks down as citizens and emergency crews began to react. Raking his hand up to remove the flex mask that hid his appearence, he was about to remove it and go to aid when Rose spoke down from her perch. "The locals can handle it Lieutenant. Going out there will only expose you, as well as us, to whatever they quarantined us for to begin with. Ride it out soldier." Despite the disgruntled look upon his face, he did as ordered, walking away from the window as Rose grew comfortable in her view. Turning to Nia, the look of anger upon his face slowly fell away. He wasn't worried about himself, but Nia was his Padawan, his responsibility. He could not place her in harm's way, especially with an unknown pathagen on the loose. If he compromised her, he would not forgive himself. "Look alive people. We got looters and infected plaguing the streets." Rose suddenly shouted from her perch. Before Nia could even respond, Mjan grabbed the young girl by her outfit and slung her up into Rose's arms as his amber blades sprung to life with a peaceful hum. "Watch her. I've got the ground covered." Mjan replied knowing that Rose had Nia at a reasonably safe distance should any dare to invade. He could feel the chaos, the darkness swelling around them as fear, doubt, and anarchy ram amuck through the city. And it was high time he started acting like a Jedi rather than a soldier and do the job he was tasked for, protect his Padawan at all costs. As soon as the doors swung open, Mjan headed in the group's arrival, twirling the amber blades out of reflex as he prepared himself for what laid ahead. Stepping out of the shadows before them, he gave fair warning. "This warehouse is under strict quarantine. Remove yourselves or force my hand."
  10. And silence was their answer... Lok shook his head in disgust, the audacity of the Sith knew no bounds. As his ships moved into formation, he knew that if they did not stop the Sith here and now, like Coruscant, and likely Onderon, Corellia stood little chance against their might. That's why he was tasked with this mission by his Empress, and come death or survival, he would see his mission through with the grace and prestige that befell him as one of her Imperial Knights. Like a spear of Imperial precision, the strike force settled into position, Lok's gaze shifting out the view port as he and Captain Greer looked onward in determination. Lok knew he held no experience here, which is why he conferred with the Captain on the go as the Sith moved into their own, finding confidence in the Elder's knowledge and wisdom. Tension filled the air as the calm before the storm befell all present this day as Corellia's own lively hood stood on the brink of balance and possible doom. And because of this, Lok knew what had to be done. "Their silence is loud and clear." Lok spoke, his gaze briefly shifting to Captain Greer. "Open comms on all ships." "This is Lok Skyshatter of her Majesty's Imperial Knights." He spoke into the unit he held, pride and confidence boasting within his tone despite his own reserves upon his own capabilities, making sure to quell any of it spilling out of his voice. "No matter what happens this day, let it be known that we stood as the first wave against the tyrannical Sith might, the strongest they've faced since the fall of the old Alliance. Because through us, Imperial and Alliance alike, we have risen stronger than ever before to stare their darkness in the face and laugh. And when they ask why, reply with this. We are the light that dwells in the darkness, illuminating the hidden truth, that we can never be extinguished." With that, Lok laid the comm down and gave a subtle nod toward Captain Greer. Like his people before him, the Onderonian that stood here to face the mighty Sith Empire, it was time to release the beasts within and let the Drexls fly with open freedom. "Release the Bombers."
  11. The Stellar Princess was an enormous ship, almost as long as an Executor-class Star Dreadnought. Unlike the infamous warship, which was optimized to bring a devastating fusillade of turbolaser fire to a single unfortunate target, the starliner was designed to carry passengers rather than firepower; she had bulk. She had a massive undercarriage that was loaded to the gills with sapient beings… most of which was steerage space. Such was the state of interstellar travel after the fall of Coruscant--many of the grand old ladies of the Galactic Republic had been hastily retrofitted for maximum capacity to service the endless tide of refugees from the devastated capital of the galaxy. And Zutia, more than a little light on liquid capital after losing most of her possessions on Korriban, was stuck in the lowest decks of the cheapest berths. Judging from the dimensions of the cabin that the huntress had been crammed into, it must have been a retrofitted ballroom--but it was now filled with bunk beds stacked five units high. The collective activity of thousands of sapients--humans, near-humans, humanoids, other mammals, reptiles and amphibians and species whose taxonomic class Lavell hesitated to guess at--generated an unforgettable miasma that was likely to result in an outbreak of plague in a few days. And the crew… “Howdy, passengers! We’ll poppin’ out of hyperspace in justabout 10 minutes, so ya’ll just strap yerselves in, ya hear?” “Sweet stars.” Zutia Lavell mumbled to herself, still clutching an armored suitcase to her breast.. The entire crew of the Stellar Princess had affected a ridiculous attempt at a folksy accent throughout the voyage from Korriban. Confined to a cot that was barely longer than her legs, Zutia could only stretch her restraints over the suitcase and await instructions to finally depart this menagerie of a starship. Sure enough, in nine minutes the entire bulk of the ship shifted under her feet as it reverted from hyperspace. She endured the corny announcements that were delivered in a “please-kill-me-I’m-already-dead-inside” accent, instead feeling the vibrations that trembled through the chassis of a ship even as large as this starliner. Then, finally, land. Solid dirt and duracrete under her boots. ____ Several hours later, the freighters containing those bound for Onderon finally touched dirt. Zutia gladly allowed herself to be carried along the tide of sapients into the open air of Onderon and the pleasant warmth of a humid day. Whereas most of the passengers thronged towards pilgrimage sites to leave behind insignificant trinkets, or bars to forget their troubles, or the offices of whatever bureaucracies existed within the Sith Empire to shovel the masses into insignificant employment, Zutia veered into the residential districts and walked until her feet ached from pounding the duracrete and the sun set. And then she took refuge in a little tea shop. The tiny store, barely more than a hole in the wall, actually wasn’t too bad. The decor was a little bright and kitschy for Zutia’s tastes, but the proprietors had the good manners to not interrogate her on the contents of her arm-long suitcase or to inquire about what large game that the hunter was seeking. Despite her Agamarian accent, there could be no doubt of her profession, considering the worn leather of her clothing, the dimensions of her cache, and the razor-sharp tuk’ata teeth that there she wore on a homemade necklace. They had the good manners to leave the hunter to collapse into a poofy chair and savor the pleasantly earthy aroma of a hot beverage. She remained there for a few minutes, politely smiling when the native Onderonians checked in on their late-night customer. As adequate as the tea might have been, enjoying an overpriced cuppa was not her objective. For a short time, she had trained under the Sith Lord Hephaestus. Zutia may as well have been a mere child at the time. The creature--the Agamarian wasn’t quite certain that the Sith recluse was human--had placed weapons into her hands, tools that she suspected Hephaestus knew that she wasn’t quite ready to wield. Perhaps she was ready now. Only time could tell. Lowering her face as though sampling the herbal aroma of her cuppa, Zutia’s breath slowed and deepened. The polite smile on her lips faded and turned into a placid frown of concentration. She gathered the Force about her, tentatively, and a chilly presence began to emanate within the Force. It was but a mote of darkness, but it could not be mistaken that an acolyte with higher ambitions than mere supplication had come to Onderon. I am here. I will find you. Or you will find me. “Pardon me, ma’am? Can I get you anything before we close?” Zutia rose with a start. She had been slouching and must have appeared to have fallen asleep. “Hmm? Oh, yes,” she handed the young woman a credit chit. “One of those shuura scones, please.” But it had been months since the hunter had last enjoyed the fruits of civilization, and here was no harm in taking a moment to enjoy a proper cuppa and a fresh-baked pastry.
  12. Both of the sister ships of the Novarch class of Belarus Cruisers ignited their engines in a flash of outgassed hydrogen and energy and churned forward as they broke towards the formation of Sith ships. Both captains and their admiral knew that this would be a decisive engagement, and this was their system. The Corellians were always a brash people, and Godfrey kew this when selecting the first line of ships to engage the Sith attack force. The two captains of the twin ships were focused on this engagement with more thrill and more deadly seriousness than any line captain could be when defending someone else’s section of the galaxy. This was Corellia, and the Sith were damned if they could take it by force like this. They were confident in their victory. But Godfrey was justifiably concerned. He had seen the holos from Onderon. From Kuat. From Dark Sun. Somewhere out in the edges of the hyperlanes to Corellia lay that cursed deadly dagger. He knew that there was a super Star Destroyer out there, there had to be. That was their hammer to the anvil, so where was it? Was it on the Trade Spine, flying up from Onderon? Was it on the Trade Run from the Core? But no. He couldn’t let that bother him, for now this was the engagement that they needed to plan for. They had fireships enough from the wreckyard if they needed a close engagement with an SSD. Fore now it was a lonely star destroyer and a support group. They would meet it with an equal force, as the evacuation of Centrepoint began. He leaned forward on the observation station and keyed the encrypted link to the Novarch Ackbar and Novarch Sikaot, but before he could give an order they engaged with their full complement of red tinged turbolaser fire. He grinned for what felt like the first time in ages. ((1))
  13. Last week
  14. Beneath the ground of Ishvara, down deep pits, behind barred doors, and under failing lights, several large droids slithered across the dingy metal floors, checking each of the vault’s rooms for trespassers or runaway specimens, eagerly awaiting their master to come relieve them or an intruder to run their rusty vibroblades through. Past them and down the dark hallway, where a stench of rotting corpses slain by the droids or mutated creatures long since dead in side rooms, was one foreboding door, unopened for so long. Not even the security droids dared to open it, in fear that their long dead master would be enraged. Past it, was the lab. Despite the rest of the place being so rancid, the lab was pristine and spotless. Lining the walls were containers with perfectly preserved but dead creatures, ranging from oversized lahn-rats, baby mynocks, hatched mud horns, premature tuk’ata, and tiny tookas. Around the room were several counters, tables and desks, lined with robotic parts. One serpentine droid, smaller than the security models outside, hummed quietly as it went about the large circular area, taking notes on all the sensors, gauges and displays with its already overloaded datapad. Whenever there became too much information on it, the droid simply gave a slight sigh, erased a few non-essential information, and continued with its work. At this point it had completely cleared its data files a hundredth time. One of the two objects that the caretaker droid seemed fixated on was the incomplete droid chassis in the center of the room. Suspended by wires and cables, the droid body was unlike any other droid nearby. Like the others, this was serpentine, modeled after the hutts who had given them to their dead master. Compared to both the caretaker as well as the security droids outside the lab, this behemoth looked like it was made for war. However, all of its weapons were set aside and replaced with human-like hands, most of its outer shell removed exposing wires and gears, and in the center of its chest was an open, incomplete hole, barely a foot wide. The gap seemed to beg for a power source or an implant, as small wires dangled uselessly inside. The caretaker droid always stopped a few moments each hour to study this droid, wondering what use its master had for it. Occasionally the chassis would get cleaned and polished, but beyond that it hung lifeless. If only the caretaker could access the files on the nearby computer. But those files were not for the caretaker’s knowledge. He was ordered to keep everything well cared for. Not to finish his master’s pet project The other object, or rather group of objects, the caretaker was fixated on was the chamber of crystals. Exposing the natural bedrock, a part of the lab opened up to what looked like a cave. Inside it was lined with hundreds of glowing rocks. Each one shined with their own color, with lines of light dancing inside. The droid looked over the crystals, trying to count how many of them existed. Behind the caretaker, the incomplete chassis continued to stare at the crystals as well, their opalescent and psychedelic lights twinkling in the cold lifeless receptor. Among the crystals, near the center of the floor, was one that was disconnected from the rest. So long ago, the other crystals had somehow severed their connection with this lone crystal, forsaking it to an eternity of loneliness. This shard, named Solus, had dwelled for over a hundred years in isolation, with nothing but its own thoughts to keep it company. The thoughts were self targeted. With no other company to enjoy, Solus could only talk to himself and try to make conversation. “I must reproduce. Yes this should do it.” “Do I really think so?” “Honestly at this point, I don’t know. How many times have I tried this?” “Tried to make more? I think this is attempt number three hundred forty sev-...no four hundred and thirty...” “Does it really matter?” “No.” “Then here it goes.” Solus' red color glowed slightly and began to emit a low heat. The dancing lines inside intensified and bounced around quicker than ever. For a few moments, Solus’s body hummed with energy, trying so hard to create another piece of a sentience near him. “No...no no no no...no No NO!!!” The lines suddenly went back to normal and the glow stopped. The heat died away quickly. “What am I missing? What is needed to be done? What is it?!?!” Solus could barely feel the slight touches of electromagnetism of his ‘family’ beyond his reach. The people that should have been his friends. His comforters. His teachers. “This is your fault! You are...this is your fault. Why won’t you help me? You just sit there mocking me. You love this dont you! You won’t help me! You won’t talk to me! TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!” A pause of silence. Then Solus screamed. The lines of light in Solus suddenly became one bold flaming ball of white light. His red color turned an abyssal black. The caretaker looked at Solus curiously. This had happened before, but not with this intensity. The droid wondered how long it would last. First time it was a few hours. The next time a day. Last time a full three days and nights. This time… the caretaker watched intently. And Solus screamed. He screamed into that abyss that surrounded him. He screamed for anything to hear him. He screamed to the visions he had of the world beyond. He screamed to the world beyond him. He screamed. His anger, his fury, his wrath, all composed into this one, non verbal, silent, but powerful scream.
  15. Xar

    Ishvara

    *Deleted, posted with wrong account
  16. The battle was hard fought, more opposing forces firing and charging to the Trandoshans and the horde of troops taking the lead. Most of said troops were gunned down or taking cover to reload swiftly. The shield brothers took charge of the War Pack, the rest of them falling behind the tower shield-wielding goliaths firing rounds of swift spikes from their weapons. More rebellion soldiers followed in great swathes swiftly gunning anyone that dared oppose them. Energy bolts crackled and smashed against the shields, some even grazing the armored plating of their battle gear and even few hit the shoulders and leg pieces of the Trandoshan armor however they still held. If the enemy soldiers weren't killed immediately then they would due quickly as spikes jutted from the bodies, ripping and tearing through innards, they would quickly bleed out from the size of the spikes or holes. Anyone still living from such met a quick end from the blades of their weapons or possibly even ripped apart. Ammunition became scarce toward the end though, and they reverted to their grenades and grenade-launching weapons, from the Spike to Incindiary Grenades amd the famous Puncture Rifles the kill count still stacked high. Rebellion soldiers continued to charge through doing their part and the enemy was being pushed back with great succession. Some soldiers took a note from the Trandoshans and fell in behind the War Pack, it was only then Krexis was shot in the chest by a heavy energy bolt. It slammed him back and his armor was clearly cracked before it automatically fell apart to the ground. While the bolt didn't pierce through completely there was clearly a horrid black burn against the latex suit beneath, melting through the rough fabric and staining his pure white scales. He wasn't terribly wounded but was clearly none too happy. As heavier blaster fire came in, three of the soldiers were quick to ready their spike grenades and threw the objects in the general direction. The heavy firing stopped for enough to get the Trandoshans moving in, and as they closed the distance the War Pack spit fire on those in the vicinity. More would meet a similar end, all until finally they reached the city.
  17. "They ignored us..." Yava said grimly. "Thank the maker..." The young twilek said plainly. As he breathed a sigh. IT was luck. "The Trandoshan said quickly. He went back to fixing the panel below the captains chair. "Either way, were still here, how long on those repairs?" Yava asked firmly. "Another hour, the motivator for the hyperdrive is-" the trandoshan mechanic said as sparks flew. "Just hurry." Yava said as she strapped on a blaster and left the cockpit. She slipped a small utilty belt and pulled her dark hair back from her face. "Where are you going?" The young twilek asked as she hustled away. "I've got to stall them." Yava said sternly. She looked at the sensor panel and could see that Kern hadn't moved. "Thats crazy, they could be pirates, or commando's, or...or...or freaking jedi... what are you-" "I don't know... but Kern is stuck somewhere in that ship, if we don't stall them they could board us or worse. So we stall." Yava replied resolutely. "How!?" The twilek asked stunned. "Like Kern told me... by telling them the truth." Yava said. As she left the bridge. --- "A child... and you are the wise elder? To teach the naughty child to mind his manners..." Kern said as he realized the quick force hold that the entity applied. A simple move, one that only a simpleton or novice in the force would be concerned with. How many times had he been here, aggrieved by a being or person that thought him inferior, that doubted his resolve, that questioned his power? How often had he been underestimated and discounted. The level of disrespect hurled his way by those who could not see his path, that did not have his vision enraged Kern beyond measure. But he contained his rage, he channeled it into ingots of fiery vengeance, it did not control him as it had when he had first turned. He had learned to use the fire, to turn it hotter, to make it his power... "So, another who doubts me, this grows tiresome." Kern said and with a simple turn of his head grasped the weapons of the zombified crew, the assembled blasters in their hands began firing wildly, Kern skillfully directed each blast away from himself, twisting in place with speed and agility as bolts flew past him as he concentrated on his own aim and accuracy. Finally he retrieved his shorter yellow light saber blade, flicking it to life with a quick hiss and using it to ward of anything that managed to get past his defense. Then he laid into the closest cretin with savage fury, moving from one to the next. As seconds passed, rows of the 'legion' began falling to blaster shots that blew them in half, cut through their number, and accurate slices from from Kern's blade, forcing them to drop their weapons and writhe about armless, headless, and without mouths to scream. The assorted crowd wobbled as they fell over writhing in sickening other-worldly motions. One bolt managed to pierce his defense, a blast from what appeared to be a former pilot, shorter then the rest. Kern growled as the bolt permeated through his mask, burning a portion of the left side of his face above his temple. He was tiring of this delay, of this distraction. The last few undead malformed beings he grasped in quick succession, the pain of his minor wound inducing an even greater surge in his ability to draw from the darkside force. This had been a workday for him, but the injury made it personal... more direct. This was no longer an errand. He would inflict suffering on the being that dared stand against him, it would be more then mere revenge. Five of the remaining forms around him were distended beyond recognition, then they burst from the pressure of the direct and humbling power Kern directed. There bodies showered black and red viscera on him and the surroundings, their remnants lay strewn across the large room and bloody remains of intestines and sinews dripped from the ceiling. The scene was of unbridled gore, as Kern now focused on regaining his ability to walk. He struggled at first, but the force empowered him now, and finally his feet moved from his own will, past the simple yet effective move the entity had used. "Now then... where were you? Ah yes, challenging my identity as Sith, insulting my petulant rage? I have more then mere rage, I have purpose, I have will, and I have no need to prove myself to a pathetic old creature trapped in a cycle of regret and melancholy." The crowd now dispatched Kern reached out himself, using his concentrated anger to grasp the neck of the unholy being that had the audacity to challenge him. Kern began to use the force to peel back the layers of protection the being had erected for itself using the force, He found every crack, every crevice, and into each he poured even more pressure. He approached the beings elevated position. "All my life I have encountered beings that have been nameless and vast in their presence, enigmatic and powerful... seeking to control me and my destiny, but now I have a chance to kill one... and I would know it's name before I do. Tell me... who were you before the deception began? Someone with small dreams and pathetic ambitions? A jedi perhaps? A lick-spittle, a lonely lost inconsequential cog in the vast machinery of the universe... so cold and alone that the loss of the ship turned you into this, this shadow... this mere wraith that seeks to humble me?" Kern said, as he stretched himself, look deeper into the feelings of the being had tried to massacre him with his minions. "In my time as Sith I have peered long into the darkness, Do you know what I discovered? I can see thoughts where others only see blackness, I can see desires and disappointments as clearly as others see the contours of land on a map. All those things you hide... all those things you felt are behind you... I see them, I use them, they become mine. You become mine, your thoughts your desires, your secrets, for some the burden they carry become their chains, chains that are for me to hold. You are not unknowable, you are not vast and cut off, far from it. The more you hide, the more you are laid bare, and the closer I get to-" That's when he felt them... they were like stabs to his heart, several new beings in the distance, force users, two... three? One was stronger the others more faint. They had slipped in unnoticed, thieves, robbers... brigands! Damn...why hadn't Yava signaled...? Had he been betrayed? The whole ship was covered in so many damned vortices of the darkside and the force, he had missed them... The time had gotten away from him... the jedi had approached unnoticed... he screeched internally, a wave of rage and anger disrupting his attempt to peer behind the vast curtain in front of him. There was no time for that now. "Damn... damn... damn... damn... damn it to hell! Always interruptions!" Kern said loudly. The attack on this thing would have to wait. "This isn't over... 'thing', when I have dealt with them, I will return for my prize... then you and I will finish this." Kern said, as he flicked his saber to life and sliced in half yet another of the beings minions who attempted to stand in his way, and left to enter the corridor that led away from the chamber. --- Yava had just gotten clear of the boarding tunnel, when she spotted the three... she was dressed in the typical garb of cargo crew, a grey and black jumper with many pockets, and two belts for holding various tools. Her heavy boots and gloves were standard Corellian issue, as was the blaster a simple DH-16. Her long hair draped to her shoulders, framing a very pale face with dark piercing eyes. "Hold it!" She said barked as she pulled the blaster from her hip, if they tried anything. If they were Jedi, she wasn't sure how effective this would be. Still she had to try. The small droid to there side was also of concern, but she recognized that this was no normal group of scavengers as she hoped. She moved from around a large fallen girder, and stood a dozen meters or so away, keeping her eyes locked on the motley group. "No sudden moves tentacle face. Same for you kid, I don't like shooting people as a general rule, kids' even less but today is an unusual day." She said to the Kel Dor closest to her while holding her stance. She approached the teen slowly, looking the trio up and down. "Now, you mind telling me who the hell you people are?" She demanded quickly, gritting her teeth, but keeping her distance.
  18. "Makes sense." She teased in response to his answer. In truth, very few studied planets outside any they had ever physically been to, Sirena included. She pulled herself from his bed and stood at its end, the silk and leathered robes she adorned making little sound and were more revealing than anything. After all, seduction was her main weapon and as an Assassin, it was a deadly one. "As for our purpose, I havent really decided fully yet. The Jungles around Iziz are dangerous, but you're training isn't advanced enough for them yet. In truth, my own isn't up to par to take you there alone. Masters are the only ones who tread there alone." Her gaze while she spoke this watched Roran gather himself, her eyes portraying a sense of kinship that Roran would rarely see amongst their kind. "But there are untapped secrets around that could be incorporated into future endeavors. Tell me. What path do you wish to follow? Judging by your attachment to armor, you seem to follow the path of the warrior, but your affinity for Pyromancy are calls to the Krath. These things will tell me where we go once we reach Onderon." With that said, Sirena exited his chambers and headed toward the spaceport. There were reasons she left her talk lingering in her departure, leaving him to question himself as much as his future. When he was ready, she would be at the ship awaiting his answer. She could not choose his future, but she could guide him correctly. After all, the next part of his training is what will define him and guide the drive behind what she held in store.
  19. Well… Kriff The grinding of broken glass beneath her knee-high boots joined the growing din of panic that started to swell all around her. Sara’s head throbbed dully to the tune but was mercifully void of its previous dysfunction. The explosive decompression of her pent up emotional baggage continued to echo through her body as she stood poised for action at one of the clinic’s four way intersections. But her emotions -- shockingly -- were placated and back to their usual haze. The presence that Leena’s overt gesture of assistance brought out, sat quietly at the back of Sara’s mind, pushing down on her head like a bag that was gradually filling with sand; quiet and brooding but swelling with each passing moment. Sara’s amber gaze surveyed the chaos that pulsed outward from the center of her feet with grim indifference. The orderlies that were discarded on the floor didn’t stir from their unconsciousness and deciphering the sensory bouquet that surrounded her, she realized that the disastrous outward expression of her internal chaos was starting to have other effects. Amid the disjointedness that followed her ‘tantrum,’ Sara’s ears caught the sound of shoes shuffling against steel coming from somewhere close. Sara gripped the synthetic black handles of her slug throwers with instinctual ease and dexterously flipped them to point directly at the unknown figure scuffing its way down the hall. It stopped about a foot away and almost directly at the end of the barrels of Sara’s long-barreled handguns. Sara was trained enough not to let her impulses guide her trigger fingers; even though dark whispers played a discordant kloo horn in her mind. It was a large green humanoid; hard to tell if it was Nemoidian or Duros in the low red light of the Clinic’s emergency lighting. But that wasn’t surprising. She could vaguely remember seeing a Nemoidion or some kriff earlier when she was pushed away with a mysterious droid. What was odd was the precise distance the man placed between them. He wore a blindfold, yet his face was pointed directly at hers. He held no cane nor any exterior guides to give the illusion that he relied on any other form of prosthetic. It was odd. She recalled rumors of a race of blindfolded people that could see through the force. And though this wasn’t what the rumors mentioned -- seeing as how this man was green and stood a foot taller than her -- she was surprised at the amount of awareness that an apparent blind man had in such a dire situation. And if her hackles weren’t already on high alert, she might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But this was a different story. “Is someone there? I heard a noise. Is everyone all right?” “You know I’m here. If you didn’t, you would have barreled right on past me or started to grab at things to get your bearings. As far as everyone in the vicinity, no. No one is currently ‘alright,’ as you so quaintly put it.” Sara hissed through half-gritted teeth, maintaining her lethal posture. Before the man could respond, a series of rapid-fire events took place like a revolving door of crazy. Leena came barreling through the halls like a clumsy tornado carrying the worry of all who lamented in the clinic with her. She seemed to sense Sara’s pain and wanted to help. And though Sara considered the prospect for a moment, the dangers of losing herself in euphoria only to tumble straight back into this pained existence would do a great deal more harm than good. So she waved off the guppy’s attempts at soothing her, recoiled when Leena pushed her at the blind man, and watched as the guppy scuttled away only mildly processing the warning she gave before she scurried off again. Then, just as she came by and exited, a large Cathar bustled in behind her and echoed her warnings. In the midst of all the comings and goings, Scorpion’s nose tingled. A hissing noise filtered through the corridor and rose quickly to the top of her priorities. It was almost sweet. The smell tickled the cilia of Sara’s nose. It wasn’t immediately familiar, but it was leaking from housing units in the walls that were attached to respirators. Hissing, sparking, and a stampede of bod- “Everyone. Please follow the red looking lady to the nearest exit immediately! No one tramples her or you will never make it out and you all will die! Orderly fashion and respectful distance and she will protect you and lead you to safety!” Oh you kriffing moron... Sara, uncomfortably familiar with how close she was to the Nemoidian, distanced herself from him as hundreds of sick fish started to flail uncontrollably toward where they thought the exits were. They were galvanized by fear. And it was odd that she wasn’t doubled over in pain. Maybe the overwhelming number had pushed her so far past sensation that she was oddly numb. Anyway; muse later, escape from the doomed building now. Sara raised her gun in the air and released a shot into the solid durasteel ceiling making a horrible concussive sound that echoed through the hall. For a small moment, there was no sound save the hissing of gas. The Mon Cal stopped moving and looked at her almost more afraid of the gun than the tragedy that waited for them. “The exits are there!” Sara said, pointing at the north and east ends of the clinic. “This hospital is going to explode. Get out while you can.” The hoards of people rushed for the front and east doors like a swarm, fighting each other for leverage over their neighbor. But Sara didn’t move; not right away anyway. First, she let the hoard rush for the exits while she walked over to an empty gurney. Second, she tested the gurney for durability and wheeled it slightly. Third, she grabbed three moderately sized surgical steel trays and strapped one to her right arm and one to her left arm using medical tape and straps. Last, she positioned herself in front of the series of doors to the back loading dock. It was kind of a slap job, but it would do what she wanted. With a couple of shots, the doors to the back loading dock were locked open just in time for the raging inferno to rush through the halls, pushing anything and everything forward. To give a small incentive, Sara left a present a few meters behind her and used the bed straps to hold on for dear life. With a huge grin that she didn’t deserve, she hunkered down and braced the bedpans, letting the wildfire and the concussive boost shoot her through the hall and out the back of the clinic. The wild gurney plowed through meandering hospital staff and unlucky patients that didn’t quite get that whole ‘the hospital is going to explode memo’ but the bed hurtled forward with ferocious speed. It was almost impossible to maintain the bed’s maneuverability, but with what little she could, she controlled the direction with a shift in weight and let physics do the rest. The bedpans got extremely hot. Her face started to burn up. She knew she’d need a new coat after this. But the smile never left her face. It was all worth it to ride a hospital gurney out into the streets of Dac with fire and explosives at her tail. The gurney, ragged and ruined, squeaked itself to the middle of the loading dock, narrowly avoiding a large vehicle and small vehicle parked side by side. Whoof! That was a thing. Sara plopped to the ground and rolled around, beating the flames out of her mohawk and trying to roll the fire out of her coat. Worth it! She started to strip the bed pans off her body and take stock of her remaining equipment. As she did, she glanced toward the clinic with adrenaline filled eyes. It wasn’t really the appropriate context to greet a burning hospital. But nothing could be done. It was slag and that meant that hundreds of sick people weren't going to make it. Nothing doing. I hope those guppies listened. Sparing one last look at the burning building, Sara eyed the hospital’s courier speeder. _________________________________ I don’t owe these people anything I don’t owe these people anything I don’t owe these people anything Sara murmured the mantra under her breath as she positioned the hospital’s courier speeder closer to the starport. She could see the Luridae from where she sat, but a big sign made her stomach sink. !!!NO SHIPS LEAVE DURING QUARANTINE. THOROUGH SCANS WILL BE ISSUED AND WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BLOW YOU OUT OF THE SKY!!! Now what am I going to do? Kriff. This was just supposed to be a simple job. Why did things have to be so complicated? Sara activated her comm device. She tried - in vain - to get a bead on where Leena had gone, considering she was the only one Sara really ‘knew’ on this planet. But when she was tuning the frequency, she caught an interesting signal. Refining it, it was clear that Sara’s methods were not as hidden by the panic as she thought. >>// Looking for a red skinned humanoid female recorded on clinic surveillance just before the explosion. She stole valuable clinic property and is to be arrested for theft.//<< Welp. Looks like it's time to get scarce. There were no sirens yet, which was a good sign. But Sara wasn’t about to stick around. According to the med techs she overheard an hour or two ago there was a warehouse district nearby. It was used for all kinds of storage. People wouldn’t look for a stolen medical vehicle there… would they? She didn’t stall long enough to debate. She sparked the ignition once more and throttled the speeder, veering off toward the warehouse district to ditch the evidence and hopefully find a way to get out of this mess. _______________________________ When she got to the warehouse district, she could see where a lot of the desperate patients had gone. They ran in droves toward empty warehouses or medical warehouses potentially in a misguided attempt to hoard medical supplies. Sara didn’t pay them any mind. She idled the speeder alongside a crowd, parked it parallel to another building and hopped out. Then, despite her better judgement, she blended with the crowd of patients as they filtered into one of the warehouses a couple blocks further down.
  20. Rruror’rur’rr stood with his back towards the naked Rose. He smiled as she spoke. “it is nothing to apologize for Rose. To be honest, I am not sure how well we know each other. You have died. I died and watched you die. The will of the ancestors has brought us back together. Together we stepped out of time, battled a dragon, and spirits from beyond. Our lives crossed for but a brief passage of time. In that time though,” he twisted his gloved hands together tight enough that the course black fabric creaked between his palms, “we were bound together. You taught me so much. Our kiss mingled our souls.” As Rose finished dressing, Rruror’rur’rr turned to face her and held out a hand to her. If they were going to serve the Black Sun they might as well walk into their fate together, hand in hand. There was so much he wanted to ask her; who she was, about her people, where she came from, everything. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to show her the ways of his people and to travel the stars bound together. They would fight whatever stood in their way. “Lets spill the blood of any who stand in our way. We can serve their cause and be together again.” ”Do you have everything you need?” Rruror’rur’rr asked as they walked through the facility, pausing near an unsecured, albeit small, armory. Inside, he had spotted an aged Tusken cycler in a black metal hue. It was almost as if it was meant to be. Letting go of Rose’ hand Rruror’rur’rr reached out gingerly taking the weapon and cradling it in his arms. Looking from the weapon to Rose, his smile was audible, “With this, I will stand by you and rain down terror on all that oppose us.”
  21. F̷͙͖̝̏̓̇̉̽̋̚i̴̡̩͖̓̄͒͜r̶̠̺̙̉͒̍̇͌̀̏͠ş̵̺͈̖̻̚͜ṯ̷̨̫̮̙̦̻̹̻̀̿̇̈́̄́̀ ̸̧̥̥̘͋͜S̶̱͓͑ḧ̵̤̼̜̯̤̥͉͓͙͎͆̑̽̉̄̃͠o̶̧̨͔̖̗͚̥̲͍͛ẗ̸̰̺s̵̢̨͔͔͎̮̯̝̝̍̅́̌̎̏̉̀̾͘ͅ Near Centerpoint Station Paying the Rebel threats no heed, the Sith combat fleet continued a controlled advance towards Centerpoint Station while the troop transports and cargo ships remained back away from the upcoming fight. There was a sense of focus and primal anticipation that permeated the ship which delighted Qaela. She loved the way all sentient beings felt when going into combat where they had to kill or be killed. It was primitive, base, and yet, so very natural to all no matter what their background or beliefs. Jedi or Sith, Force sensitive or blind to its call: it didn't matter. All felt it. Somewhere out there, across the rapidly decreasing distance of cold lifeless space, were thousands of beings feeling the exact same thing. It was a rare point of unity that bonded both sides, just as Nature intended. It didn't matter if one wore the uniform of a Rebel or of the Sith: they were all feeling a variation of anticipation, fear, eagerness, or even a desire to kill. Those feelings saturated the Force if one was open to it and Qaela was definitely open to it. She drank it in and used it to focus herself to the task at hand. She had always loved and cherished subtlety when it came to personal interactions, politics, and duels, but when it came to fleet tactics she preferred to be excessively blunt and direct. When it came to selecting a ship of her own to command, she immediately went about ensuring the crew was well trained in intensely focused fire against a particular target she wanted dead. The Kyber Class Star Destroyers that the Sith enjoyed producing and fielding excelled at such blunt tactics and for good reason. In her experience, there was little that inspired fear in one's enemy more than an exceedingly large and expertly focused fire that sent streams of highly charged energy straight into a singular target. With a cruel smile as she look at the tactical holograms on the bridge, she selected the target that she wanted to see disappear first with a casually raised finger, silently dooming the crew of that ship to be the next sacrifices on the alter of the glorious Sith Empire. Captain Geratos nodded and immediately began relaying orders to the gunners and the squadrons of bombers. As soon as they got into range, an intense, blinding tidal wave of turbolaser, blaster, and ion cannon fire would flow over the hapless Rebel ship. The bomber squadrons would dip "below" the field of fire giving the gunners a clear shot before darting into range to fire the first barrage in their payload against the same target further adding to the terrible toll of damage being inflicted. This might be but the first shots of this campaign, but Qaela wanted them to be as memorable as they were brutal. ((1))
  22. The redressing took a lot longer than the undressing. Firstly the jumpsuit provided was not the proper size, perhaps being a size too big in the bust, and she had to pin the uniform back in place and the addition of a few straps to the armour chestpeice made it all fit a bit better. All the while of course she was under the protection of her Tusken angel, which gave her heart a bit of a flutter. Thinking that she must absolutely say something other than leaving an awkward silence she broke the stale air with a cheery voice. “So how are you? I should apologize for not knowing you super well, despite our shared experiences. Please forgive my brain.” She grinned widely and finished tying up her boots. “So are we down to bathe in blood together for these criminals?” It wasn't a judgement call, but credits were very nice to have if you wanted to forge a destiny together.
  23. Xar walked through the empty streets quietly, trying his best not to attract too much attention, but also trying to be quick. He felt like he was back on Rodia in a weird sense. Hiding from other beings, trying to get from one place to another for his own gains, trying to find something that would help him accomplish his own goals, ready to attack whoever got in his way. Xar hated this feeling. He should be able to walk down any street without worry. However, the feeling quickly disappeared when he saw the smoke. Black clouds climbed and consumed the air a short distance ahead. This development made Xar hurry more, almost breaking into a run. This was not because he thought it may be something related to him, or because there were some security beings following him (Xar was unaware they were even there), but because it interested him. Xar turned a corner and found the chaos. A medicinal clinic had erupted into flames, and like rats, people inside were trying to dash, bash, and claw their way out. The most desperate and violent ones were getting out first, not caring if they left others to die behind them. Xar watched the crowd closely, hoping to see his contact emerging from the building. However, most of the people emerging were Quarren, Mon Calamari, and a few other aquatic beings. Xar wasn’t even sure if he saw a single human in the crowd. Xar was getting annoyed again. If his contact wasn’t here, the nearest medicinal clinic to the cantina, then Hamilton was most likely in hiding. This search was going to take a lot longer. “Excuse me, master droid” a voice started. Xar turned and looked to the Mon Cal that had approached him. The fact that she actually addressed him politely made him listen to her and not outright ignore her. “Can you help me? Something here is trying to destroy us, everyone. I do not know who to trust. You are not from here. Will you help me? We need to get out of here. Come on. Let’s find some shelter and together we can work to solve this.” “Solve your own problems. We are busy” Xar dismissed physically and mentally what he thought was a doctor with a wave of his claw and began to turn away. This situation did not help him at all. He needed to find a security checkpoint or something where he could get access about the city and its citizens. At this point, he was searching for a needle in a haystack, but he would not fail. However, Xar stopped. Through the crowd, two security droids were coming directly towards him. The crowd of fleeing people and helping bystanders were slowing them down, but it was obvious that they would stop at nothing to capture their target. “I think they want to talk to you.” Xar grumbled slightly at the Mon Cal’s words. It seemed he needed to go into hiding for a bit. “Don’t touch us.” Xar slapped away the fish’s hands. At this point Xar thought that companion droids got touched less. The two dashed away from the scene. Xar kept glancing behind him, paranoid that he was still being followed. However, no calls for halt and no blaster fire reassured him that was not the case. Still, Xar followed the Mon Cal, since she seemed to have his best interests in mind. Finally, someone who did the right thing. Ducking into the warehouse, Xar was surprised to see the crowd that had gathered here. A bunch of them were from the medicinal clinic, but not all. Perhaps… Xar was distracted momentarily by his helper’s belief that she was being followed. He sighed. “So what? They aren’t an issue at the moment. And i doubt you are that important.” Xar still hadn’t noticed the weapon that hung from the healer’s belt. “If they become a problem, we’ll cut their throats. Now tell us...do you know of a human named Hamilton Alexandria? He was supposed to be at the Raging Revan Cantina but…” Xar stopped when he realized that the Mon Cal was much too focused on some of the other beings ‘following’ her. She would be of no use until this matter was settled. “Wait here…” Xar commanded sternly and started off towards the Nemodian and the Zeltron, not seeing the third individual that was referred to. He had to navigate his way through the crowd of sick people. He was especially careful to not let any of them touch his chassis. Thankfully, a bunch of people moved out of the way when they saw him coming. Xar was beginning to realize that commanding respect from these beings was the only way to go. “You.” Xar walked up and pointed a claw towards the Nemodian and the Zeltron. “Come with us. Now.” and with that, Xar turned and went back towards his new companion.
  24. As the funny looking fish-like creature entered the back loading dock, Ro opened his mouth to speak. He was relieved to find someone that wasn’t a droid and looked like she was in charge. In fact, he had good reason to believe she was, in fact, a Jedi. Her attire and demeanor seemed to say as much. Perhaps things were looking up. That is, until her reaction. The two locked eyes for only a moment as she breezed by him. Ro spun and stood there, still holding the crates of supplies under his arms. Unbelievable. Ro shook his head. Even the Jedi on this planet were rude. Walking a few more steps forward, the former Watcher set down the two large boxes near the room's far wall and headed back towards the loading bay doors. He would have a word with this rude Jedi. Ro grumbled to himself as he thought of his next set of actions. He would need to be smart about this for multiple reasons. So much was wrong. It didn’t take Jedi superpowers to realize that. They needed a plan. Moving back towards the door, a sudden burst of pain and terror knocked the hulking Cathar to his knees and left him dazed for a moment. What in the... Slowly rising to his feet, Ro stumbled to the door only to have the Mon Calamari Jedi burst through it, almost knocking him over in the process. “Have you lost your min--" "....Wooo!” Ro could feel the force empowering Leena as she yanked him towards her as if they were comparable in size or strength. Classic Jedi trick. If her plan was to show off I am only mildly impressed. ...a Neimodian with a blindfold. Get him. Take him out back. Do it now.” He caught most of the important parts of what she said. At least, he thought he had. His head was still throbbing. “Listen here, Master Jedi fish-face. I don’t--” She was already gone. Normally, Ro was a fairly calm person. But the last few minutes had left him increasingly unhinged. He grabbed at the lightsaber from his belt. The next person who messed with him would be a fool if they didn’t think he knew how to use it. He had had quite a bit of time to practice since he initially discovered it in the dead Mon Cal’s belongings. His Echani arts and techniques actually complimented it quite well. The weight of the lightsaber, of course, was deceptive. There was an imbalance to the weapon that he couldn’t quite describe. It was enough to make it unwieldy for even the most expert martial artist. That didn’t mean it was impossible to use for someone like him. It was just sub-optimal. Of course, as long as he wasn’t fighting a melee weapons specialist, his deficiencies with the weapon wouldn’t have much effect on his overall ability to maim or kill someone. Still, it left him with the rather distinct feeling that this imbalance was, in fact, intentional and that force users were able to overcome it by means of their fancy “space magic” aka the manipulation of the Life Force. He was definitely eager to explore his hypothesis further. But the blindfold guy. Yes! Right! The Blindfold guy. He had no idea what way to go or where to find such a random person but Ro figured that the alien would be hard to miss from the general description Leena gave. Heading in the direction that he saw Jedi go, Ro ignited "his" lightsaber and began walking. The blue glow of the lightsaber contrasted nicely with the red glow of the hallway lights. The hospital was clearly on emergency generators. What were we hit by?! Some sort of newtech EMP?! Ro began to break into a jog as he tried to catch up with the mission orientated Jedi and clarify her instructions. Her scent was distinct as it wafted through the air. He had been distinctly close enough to pick it up from her moments ago. But he could also hear something more insidious. His senses were on full alert as the adrenaline pumped through his system. What began so quiet that he could barely hear it over his breathing grew steadily louder as he turned the corner. He hoped the hissing sound wasn't what he thought it was. A Neimodian with a blindfold. She wasn’t making that up. Now I’ve seen everything. And then came the sound. Ro dropped his lightsaber momentarily as he covered his ears. He hated loud klaxons. They were clearly invented by people who were half deaf or simply had no regard for the hearing of others. All the same, Ro reached down and picking the hilt back up, motioned towards the colorful woman and the Neimodian standing next to her. “Over here! This way! Move to the exit,” He roared over the sound of the alarm. He cringed at the sound. Putting his lightsaber away, he continued to push forward but he was losing the Mon Cal’s scent. Panicked patients, staff, and family members were now beginning to flood into the halls. Pointing directly at Sara, Ro repeated his instructions as he approached them. “Pretty lady,” because flattery never hurt anybody, “Will you please escort the blindfolded pedestrian to the nearest exit as per the Jedi’s orders. Thank you.” Truth be told, he did really phrase it like a question. It was more of an order. And he wasn’t concerned about whether she followed it or not. He was still looking for the first Jedi. Of course, what he now saw in front of him was a madhouse. Raising his hilt high into the air, he ignited his lightsaber once again. It caught people’s attention for a moment. That was all he needed. His growling voice would do the rest. “Everyone,” he bellowed, “Please follow the red looking lady to the nearest exit immediately! No one tramper her or you will never make it out and you all will die! Orderly fashion and respectful distance and she will protect you and lead you to safety!” He was making this up as he went. The Jedi wanted him to get the Neimodian out of there. With her leading the way and them staying at a respectful distance, there was a good chance that the red lady and the blind guy wouldn’t be trampled as they stumbled along and led everyone else to the exit. Only not everyone would make it at this point. It simply wouldn’t be enough. There were still those bound to their beds being left behind. He looked around himself in the chaos. A young woman of fishy complexion came scurrying towards him in a panic. “Jedi! Jedi! Please help! I’ve lost my son! I’ve lost my son! Please help!” She tugged at his robes. This was Coruscant and Chandrilla all over again. His glanced stopped firmly on the female as the klaxons and streaming of people continued. Her large, goggle-like eyes continued to plead with him. They were a funny looking species with their high-domed heads and webbed hands, but Ro know that they could feel the same sense of loss, fear, and pain that any other sentient species could. Of course, the brilliance of her white pigment made her especially beautiful for a Mon Calamari. And her light complexion matched that of child he had seen getting bounced around in the panic only moments before. “Was your son about yay big and yay tall and with the same white skin,” Ro yelled back as he motioned the proportions with his hands. The Mon Cal female nodded back, crying so hard at this point that she was unable to speak. He was sure he had just seen the kid. Pushing through the crowd, he pressed on deeper into the building. As the building began to power back on, Ro feared that he was running out of time. And right about the time he found the boy huddling in a corner crying, the shake beneath his feet confirmed that his fears were accurate. The first explosion shook the ground only slightly but the following series of cascading explosions soon began to consume the building. He didn’t have much time. Dragging the two into a nearby room, he throw the door shut and looked around. There was a tray of heavy monitoring equipment setting next to one of the beds. Grabbing it, he made a running start towards the nearby window and hurled it with all his might. The equipment cracked the window before thudding on the ground. “Screw it.” The rumbling was rapidly approaching now. Powering on his lightsaber, Ro wildly slashed at the window, destroying the glass in the process. He looked out the window as he yelled for them to come to him. “Come here! Hurry!” It looked like they were at least a story, maybe two stories up. There wasn’t time to judge this fall. His hair was standing on end. He could almost sense the flames coming. Scooping up the woman and the child, he squeezed them tightly and leapt out of the window, just in time to see the flames explode through the hospital room door. He could feel the flames' hot, prickly tickle as the fire leapt out the window after them and shoved him even farther from the building. It wasn’t the falling that bothered him. It was the landing. He shifted his body so that he could protect the woman and her child as best he could. But that meant he would take the brunt of it. He wasn’t looking forward to that part but at least he didn’t have to wait long. The next thing he knew, Ro awoke with people standing around him. He was a little bruised and bloodied but he had survived. He looked for the Mon Cal and her child. “The female and her child?” he asked in a half-delirious panic. “They made it thanks to you,” one of the onlookers replied as he helped tend to the others that escaped. “You are one crazy dude, Catman. I’ll give you that.” Ro laughed but abruptly stopped when he felt a shooting pain in his side. He winced. Dragging himself to his feet, he began to survey the crowd. “Has anyone seen a Mon Calamari Jedi? Does anyone know if she made it out alive?” “Yeah. I seen her! Saved a bunch of people, too. I think she went that way,” one of the bystanders replied as he pointed in the direction of a set of warehouses a few blocks away. “Thank you,” Ro replied as the man from before rushed up to him. “Whoa there, buddy. You really shouldn’t be moving around after a stunt like that.” “Don’t worry about me, sir. I’m a Jedi,” Ro replied as he faked a smile as best he could. The truth was that outside of his size and bulk, all Cathar had rapid healing abilities and wounds that might take others out were not nearly as detrimental to a Cathar. This didn’t mean they were invincible or devoid of pain receptors, however, or that he preferred not landing on his feet. But Ro had an increasingly bad habit of relying on his healing factor in emergency situations. In fact, it was beginning to almost feel like it had become a form of self-punishment. He couldn’t afford to think of that now, though. Holding his side, he hunched over as he hobbled towards the warehouse. Thinking to himself, he laughed a little bit and pain shot out from his chest. That sounds like something Rose would do. Running around impulsively, jumping out of windows, not sticking to the plan. Maybe she’s rubbing off on me after all. Thanks for being my guardian angel. He entered the first building that he thought he could hear people. Or maybe he sensed them. Or may it was that Neimodian’s peculiar scent that had lend him here. It was hard to know anything for sure at this point with his head still ringing. All that mattered to him right now was finding safety and a spot to lie down. Oh. And that Jedi. I need to speak with that Jedi. Entering the building from the side, Ro could see that this building was some sort of makeshift housing location. He imagined it was probably for the sick. But he could care less. He just wanted to find the Jedi. If she wasn’t here, he’d keep looking until he found her. And that’s when he saw her. Nestled between two full cots, Leena stood beside a strange droid with the Neimodian and Sara not far in front of her. Ro grinned to himself contently. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Jedi. Straightening up in spite of the pain, he held his breath as he walked forward as casually as possible towards the group. He was happy to see that the others had managed to survive as well. There might be hope for them after all. ___
  25. Kel simply nodded at his master's praise. As the three of them walked through the boarding tunnel, Kel felt a dark presence distinct from the chaos of the maw. Aidan's warning went without saying. We were not alone on this ship. When the 3 jedi and R5 entered the landing bay they took a moment to discuss their plan. Aidan started off by asking where we would go first. "I think the we should start with the helm. If we can restore power to the bridge, we should be able to get a better idea of where to find what we're looking for."
  26. It was a fire fight.... Echoed by the large singular shot from his black powdered rifle as soon as his boot treaded upon Chandrilan soil, the balls of durasteel tearing through armor and flesh with disregard. Slinging the rifle across his back as his men fell in behind, Mythos caught a blaster rifle tossed his way and joined in the ensuing fray, crimson and emerald bolts crossing paths as the rest of the Armada began to slowly set down and more men poured from the angelic breasts that held the Rebel Alliance, a hailstorm of dust and rock erupting from their settling. It was as if this was the defining moment of the Alliance, the moment where the final line had been crossed and judgement day had befell the Mandalorian forces. Echoes of hearts beating as one, vengeance filling their souls in memorial of Coruscant and after as they treaded forward in conviction. Mythos led the first assualt aimed at the capital city, the outskirts meant to be the beach head of it all, his aim true and his heart filled with sorrow. For several of their opposing numbers had grown, likely rose by those they came to save. Such was the way of the Mandalorian Crusaders... convert or die. Alas, he understood their choice, but it was still a choice made, as as he lapped at his chops, staring down the barrel of his blaster, he made peace with each soul he released from bondage, from slavery in its purest form. Calming his breath and slowing his heart, he fired again, emerald bolts true to their targets. His gaze shifted briefly about, careful to discern friend from foe as he took aim toward another, and pulled again, releasing more. War he may have been newly appointed to, but fire fights he was not. Not just because of the world he came from, but because of the life he chose. Life was full of them, and his sorrow fell upon those who chose to stand against his cause. Losses could be seen and felt on both sides, the Mandalorians giving as good as they got, something he had long came to expect and respect. But they held the might of the Zinthos Empire and Galactic Alliance in full, and together made the heart and soul of the Rebel Alliance, protectors of all basic rights and keepers of order. The fists of Good would always triumph over the clutches of evil, and Mythos knew this well. And so as they neared the capital, a wake of fallen comrades and enemies alike, Mythos knew the battle was won even before it began. As he shifted his gaze once more, however, the haunting memory of Dark Sun plagued his mind and sight briefly, causing the Shistavanen to lose sight of his task briefly and receive a blow to his thigh. Buckling down, he grimaced, landing one more blow across his back before someone took out the sharpshooter and drug him to cover despite his size. Shaking his mind clear, Mythos focused. Now that they had reached the city, it was more imperative that he remained here and now than to let his curse become his downfall. Shoving the medic that rushed to his aid to the side, his glare shouted the words that followed. "Don't worry about me. I will heal."
  27. Leena made her way towards the back loading dock. A smile pulled at the edges of her mouth. As bad as the whole situation was seeming to be, Leena wad pleased to not go it alone. As she neared the door to the back alley, it opened before she got to it. Leena paused looking up at the large feline carrying a pile of supplies. He was clothed in the robes of a Jedi, from what she could tell. This had to be him. Leena opened her mouth to offer a greeting, reaching out on the force to feel the familiar aura in the air that agents of the light naturally seemed to project. Not a sound escaped her mouth as she closed it in surprise at what she felt. The feeling she felt coming off this being was not that of a Jedi. It lacked the training and peace. Instead, Leena felt the man’s deception and was it nervousness? Still, he was clothed as a Jedi. She scurried passed him, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before slipping out back. Something was wrong. There was someone clothed as a Jedi who was clearly not a Jedi, a being submerged in the darkside delivering ‘supplies;’ she looked down at the mask she had taken from the Neimodian’s shipment and threw it on the ground. “Hey! That is medical supplies. Directive 32A5 instructs that no medical supplies is to be wasted under pain of unspecified imprisonment in the Deep Site mines.” One of the simple droids rattled off, it’s emotionless voice dripping with judgement. Leena waived the droid off. “Please worry about your current task. I will worry about mine.” She had bigger concerns now. Something was off. The plague that ravaged the city and now these people. Something was going on. Even her ship running out of fuel. “That should not have happened.” Leena turned around. She was going to confront whatever was going on here. The focus had to be on helping the patients. Whatever else people were bringing in would draw away from that. That was her purpose, the purpose of the clinic itself and its staff and volunteers. Leena knew what she had to do, even if she was not thrilled about it. Before she could grab the handle of the door an invisible explosion of emotion tore through the air and ambiance about the place. It erased the cries of pain and suffering with a single powerful wave. Instinctively Leena threw up her hands pulling an invisible surge of peace and light from the ether, sheltering her body and mind from the blast that echoed into the physical realm causing fragile items to break, loose rubbish bins to rattle and anyone not prepared to tumble to the floor. “Sara . . . “ she whispered thinking of the Zeltron woman who had helped her get to the planet and this very clinic. She was the Zeltron with another force signature filled with pain, pain she had tried to treat. Breaking into a run, Leena slammed into the door, nearly bowling over the Cathar faux-Jedi on the other side. With an adrenaline fueled force guided grab, Leena grabbed Ro’s collarband yanked him towards her. “I don’t know who you are Master Jedi, but there is a man here, a Neimodian with a blindfold. Get him. Take him out back. Do it now.” The usually kind and calm girl’s demeanor twisted in a stern icy wall of command. She was not toying around and her tone and very aura portrayed that she was a woman on a mission. The Cathar had a good feel, even if he was living in deception. She hoped he would help her. Leena had to find Sara. Dropping the feline’s collar, Leena surged forward, her path illuminated by the flashing red lights that pierced the darkness, her footsteps guided by the force. Down the hallways and around several corners, Leena came upon both Sara and Nok. Brushing past the Nemoidian, Leena reached out to help her newfound comrade, projecting a calming stream of peace and tranquility towards her ravaged mind. “There is a cat, a Cathar Jedi,” Leena pointed down the hallway she just came from as she spoke towards Nok, “Go get him and take him to the back. The survival of these people depend on it. Go.” She barked the order before turning back towards Sara, pushing the pain and suffering and fear that now amplified throughout the facility away from the space around them. “I should have known better to drag you into this. I lost sight of that detail through the craziness of the plague. I know better than th . . .” Leena paused, her senses tingling as felt it. Some lights began to flick back on while other damaged ones sparked in anger as electricity began to work through the facility from the backup generators. That was not what gave Leena pause. What did was the damaged backup lines and the faint hiss of gas surging from a damaged line in a nearby room. As each room and system came back online one at a time it was obvious that there was little time. Lunging forward, Leena fell to her knees to grab the fire alarm setting blaring klaxons off throughout the clinic. If there had been fear, panic, and chaos before; it just amplified one hundred fold throughout the facility. “We have to go!” Leena shoved Sara towards Nok and the backdoor where Ro was, turning to run the other direction. She grabbed the first patient who had made it to the door of his treatment room and drug him forward. Leena knew she didn’t have the power or ability ro save everyone, but she was a Jedi. She would do her part. Hopefully the fire alarm did the rest. —————————- Street level cameras did not take long to identify the rogue droid that had taken up a killing spree in the city. From Security HQ all it took were a few push of the buttons to redirect a nearby quarantine patrol and the bulk of the guards at a warehouse serving to quarantine offworld visitors now stuck planetside. The offworlders had been relatively well behaved. Command was not concerned that they would try and leave. Fear was an awesome tool for controlling the local populace. It would only be a few minutes before they closed in on the killer bot. This time, they were going to bring the real firepower. The people needed to know that their government was the power that protected them in these uncertain times. —————————- Back inside the clinic, panic reigned supreme as the sick and dying clawed at each other trying now to fight their way out of the clinic they had, until just moments before, been jockeying to try and be the first in line to get back into. Treatment was limited, everyone knew that. And then, as the seconds on the wall-mounted clock counted down, deeper in the facility, the power that surged from the backup generators sparked on a damaged line or a broken light with a still completed circuit igniting the gas filled air. Piped from deep under the planet’s crust beneath the ocean, the stuff was more explosive than the other flammable gasses and supplies that littered the standard clinic. The entire place was a tinderbox and the match had been struck. Flames erupted blowing the door to the utility closet off it’s hinges. They raced down the walls in every direction consuming everything in it’s path. Leena felt the lick of the flames before she could see them. Grabbing the three Quarren and one Mon Cal she had managed to pull from their rooms, Leena pushed them down, one atop the other, throwing herself atop them as the flames shot towards them. Even in the chaos, Leena reached deep within, calling on whatever vestibules of the force she could find. She called waves of the force, pulling whatever liquid particles it could from the air and forming a temporary shield over the top of the five as they huddled on the floor. Leena held up her hand trying to hold the protective shield in place as the deafening roar of the flames slammed into them. The heat was unbearable. Leena felt her skin prickle as her robes began to singe. Beneath her, the others cried out in fear. “Hold on! Trust!” She cried, her voice cracking with the force of trying to maintain the shield against the overwhelming onslaught and maintain a sphere of calm. —————— Outside, flames erupted from windows. One wall erupted outwards as a supply of oxygen caught fire abd blasted bits of duraplast and brick in all directions. The entryway was eaten away as flames raced through it outside, melting durasteel and glass. And as quick as the flames were there, they receded leaving a burning husk of supplies, bodies, and destruction. Screams filled the air mingled with the crack of fire, sparking of exposed electrical wires and coughs and wheezes of the sick as they tried to scrape themselves away from the chaos, fighting against the overwhelming police force that had already been approaching. —————- Leading her small band of survivors through the flames, Leena limped forward. She was covered in soot and ash and the group she had with her were crying in fear. She urged them on as gently as she could. “Almost there. You’re ok. We’re ok,” she soothed. “Watch out for that chunk of rock. It looks pretty jagged. You’ve got this. Lets get out. Then we can help the others. Thats it. Good job.” Once clear of the building, Leena turned the party she had sheltered from the flames over to a group of citizens who had rushed out of a nearby business to lend what aid they could. Not even stopping to brush the rubble off her once white healer’s robes, Leena turned to survey the damage. “What in force is going on here?!” She lamented. She saw it then. The droid. It did not belong. Not here. She hurried towards it, her hand resting near her lightsaber, just in case this was all some sort of elaborate Sith scheme. “Excuse me master droid. Can you help me? Something here is trying to destroy us, everyone. I do not know who to trust. You are not from here. Will you help me? We need to get out of here. Come on. Let’s find some shelter and together we can work to solve this.” —————- The air filled with sirens as responding emergency vehicles and personnel responded from all over the city. Even the police that had been tasked to apprehend Xar were drawn to the explosion and helping their own. Only a pair of security droids maintained their focus and direct line of sight on Xar. They pushed past the masses trying to flee, intent on their target. ————— “I think they want to talk to you.” She pointed out the droids intent on coming after Xar as she tried to pull the droid behind an arriving fire response craft. ————— Several minutes later, Xar and Leena arrived at the warehouse a few blocks away. “I think we lost them. Lets dip in here. I feel, something.” There were no guards in sight as Leena dipped into the large warehouse lined with cots and makeshift housing. She felt it. Somewhere, in this crowded structure, there were Jedi, agents of the light. She wanted to find them. Then, together they could uncover what was happening. It panged Leena’s heart what had happened. She desired nothing more than to go and help at the scene of the catastrophe, to treat the sick and dying, but she was a Jedi. She had to face the greater darkness that was festering here, lest the darkness overwhelm any good she tried to implement. Scanning the room, Leena was hoping to see the Jedi; what she saw instead, filtering in from other entrances, were the Neimodian, Sara, and the Jedi-impersonator. “They must be following me!” She hissed at Xar.
  28. D A M A R I U S S T O N E Personal Aliases: Aurion Skarr (Birth name), Reaper, Skarr Homeworld: Wild Space, Morellia (Savareen, second life.) Species: Morellian-Kage (Dark-skinned) Alignment: Neutral Physical Description Age: 28 Height: 6'7" Weight: 210 Skin: Dark Hair: Prussian Blue Eyes: Grey Sex: Male Faction Information House: Vhassar, the Golden Son Current Faction Affiliation: Black Sun, Blademasters. Current Faction Rank: Alignment: --- Former Faction Affiliation: Jedi Guardian Former Faction Rank: Jedi Knight (Lost) History Trained by: Hou-Jo Poleb (Master), Seraphim (Knight), Master Ession (SJK), Aryian Darkfire (Jedi Master / Councilmember) Trained who: --- Background Below the belt of the Savareen sun, there have always been those blessed with the power of spirituality and foresight. The only son of aging trinket peddlers, Zrahu did not realize his gift until his parents had already succumbed to a wasting sickness, leaving the young, traumatized boy to fend for himself across the dispersed cities of Savareen. He read fortunes in the gutter, for a coin or scraps of bread. He sculpted a hustle in order to keep his head above water, and watch others deeply to imitate their way of live. As his premonition proved more and more accurate, his reputation grew. He used his second sight to where targetable men and women could be found, or how the cards would lay in games of chance at the local bazaars. Soon, he began to receive patrons dressed not in dirtied sandals, but jeweled slippers. However, for all this, Zrahu could never see his own destiny. His future was hidden. Increasingly disillusioned with his success, he noted the common disparities of wealth, and witnessed those unhappy with their lives acting out in spiteful violence against one another. It was apparent to him that people were bound up in a never-ending cycle of pain, often of their own making, and no hopeful prophecy seemed able to break it. Zrahu himself soon felt nothing but a sense of emptiness, finally relinquishing his mortal possessions and leaving his home-city for good on the coattails of professed Jedi. This too, did not last long. Learning what he could, he disappeared and returned to the place that called to his heart. For years, he roamed the land, from the trackless wastes of the lesser civilizations to the ruins of plunder and riches. By distancing himself from others, he was alone with his thoughts at last. He divined not just how callous people could be, but also how corrupt the world might yet become. Feverish visions began to plague his waking hours, along with otherworldly whispers of war and strife, and endless suffering. He wandered far, until the sands turned to salt. He could not know that he had arrived in Crowvale, a lost city ravaged in the wars of a bygone age off the coast of the Pnakotic Coast. There, gazing into the depths of a ragged abyss, Zrahu opened his unsteady mind, desperate for understanding and came across a remarkably uncanny community. This was a hell he was vastly unprepared for. The people were gluttonous to their core, provisioned by the barest of minimums. In his attempt to save a friend, he had lost more than just a life.. The story of Skarr begins now. Equipment Clothing or Armor: Weapon: Common Inventory:
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