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  1. Today
  2. A brief moment of silence lingered upon the air after her exclamation, the smile upon his face hidden by the elongated fingers that stroked at his chin, his green gaze still falling upon her form as he slightly teased at her before he finally revealed the hidden smile. A slight chuckle could be heard snorting forth that resembled a Gamorrean grunt as he turned, placing a palm upon her shoulder to turn her with him. "I see child." He spoke, this time a more serious tone echoing within his gentle voice as he began walking away from the Temple's Entrance toward an inner courtyard where a handful of Initiates and Padawans were, some studying, some meditating, a couple sparing. "Tell me why you wish to become a Jedi young one. Why be so willing to give up such a long life ahead of you for a life of servitude and sacrifice?" Motioning for her to sit, his hand reveales a small pond with various fish swimming within, a duracrete barrier running its course around it, as he took a seat and motioned his hand across it's still surface, small ripples following its wake. "We Jedi are like these fish, confined to our duties, making sure the murky waters of darkness does not overcome our beloved Galaxy, and like the ripples my hand have caused to the water..." Just as he speaks, the fish within rush toward his hand, nipping at the path his hand made. "The Force is our only way of knowing when our Galaxy have been invaded."
  3. Solestran snapped out of her thoughts, as she noticed someone approaching her. She was a little surprised, as he looked like a Kaminoan. She had seen pictures and images but had never seen one in person. He seemed to move with complete grace, it made her feel slightly nervous because she was not always so fluent in her moves. “It’s very good to meet you.” She replied, wondering if she should bow back or not. As she spoke it felt almost as if he could see right through her. “I want to become a Jedi.” She answered carefully, not wanting to sound too eager, but also wanting to be taken very seriously. She watched his face, wondering what he would say, the last thing she wanted was to have to go back home.
  4. The Unmounted Heart The Silken Nexus Aleria Thorne was approached by a creature claiming to be a member of a mysterious circle, only identified by a small Black Lotus glyph emblazoned on it's cloak, investigating the disappearance of several renowned Jedi. Discretion was supremely emphasized, and there was that mention of a rumored link between the denizens of Onderon and that of a shamefully exiled Sith Master. The truth was hers alone to discover, and her travels would lead her to the primeval morasses of a most feral jungle world. A derelict raft drifts into an abandoned harbor carrying a young woman. Delirious with hunger, the only word she seems able to speak so far have been “Montar”. Free folk claim that her madness stems from no Montar, but a Monster within the jungles of Onderon. The only other clue to her identity is an iconic weapon she carries. Is the woman insane, or is there something more? Decades have passed since Moonkeep was reclaimed, and a small garrison placed there along with a beacon to help guide travelers. Months ago, that beacon fell dark, with the garrison completely vanishing from plain sight. In the walls of Iziz, rumors circulate that something ancient was discovered in the grounds beneath near the keep, dating far before the new Sith Empire arrived, and seeded the roots of a terraforming Dark Side Nexus. The Moonkeep is a subterranean wonderland, a vast and twisted labyrinth where fear runs wild. It is the home of horrendous Sithspawn that have never seen the light of day. It is here that the Anzati Spider, King Emperor of the Shadows, casted a foul anomaly meant to ignite fountains of dark energy that would suffuse the emergent creatures of the wild and tear open wombs for an army unheard of. What has stepped through the dark, surprises even Him. The insanity that pervades the Moonkeep escalates and threatens to shake the jungles of Onderon to its foundations. Be sure to quell your curiosity, the dark is not for the faint of heart. - - - - - - - Moonkeep, Onderon. From the Journal of Remays Sirim, Imperial Field Scout, 21st Imperial Excavation Unit, MIA. "At long last, I've found it. I've found the Moonkeep. It was well hidden to be sure. The exterior is nothing but a pile of upended masonry, covered in lichens and old moldering roots. The Imperials took great lengths to try and conceal it, but my eye misses very little. The structure itself is unremarkable—a simple stone bastion, assembled in a swift prefabricated style. But you need only scratch the surface to find the truth of this place. Quiet horror hangs over Moonkeep like a shroud. Servants of the Dark lurk in every corner, just out of sight but always watching. Waiting. I've never felt more at home. The presence of the Dark Side only grows stronger as you descend. The Keep's bleak stone walls give way to great caverns, where shadows dance like mad Squibs and massive spider-webs glisten in the torchlight. Creatures of the Sith, the Sithspawn, stalk these chambers, whispering dark secrets to one another in a language no common man or woman understands. But this is still a pale reflection of what's to come. Beyond the caves, the very fabric of reality begins to fray. In this dark realm, the Heart of Onderon has claimed this place. Its inky tendrils stretch out in every direction, seducing pilgrims and prey alike--claiming them with a cold, setaceous embrace. This is what drove the Imperials to try and destroy the fort. They found this Nexus and sought to slow it from the world. Shortsighted fools, the lot of them. How could someone turn their back on this sublime darkness? After walking these gloomy hallways for a week or more, I feel the weight of it—the horror, I mean. It's as if all this dark beauty could collapse in on itself at any moment. Someone is holding open the nexus by will alone. I his thoughts in my dreams, urging me deeper and deeper into the dark, promising me glory, passion, and terror. His name is Exodus, the Emperor-King of the Night. In time, I shall become his true servant, and together we will bring this world to heel. All will fear Exodus. All will love Exodus. All will worship the Dark."
  5. Last week
  6. The rapid disembarking of the crew from the small shuttle came as no surprise. What was a slight surprise was the actions of the force sensitive Zabrak. No, not just force sensitive, a jedi of some form based on the light sabre. It was an interesting strategy to take the high ground in a fight such as this. The blaster would provide a small means of generic combat but not a great amount there of. However he may be capable of using the force in some long range way. But no matter, that was not his concern. Turning to his master he bowed slightly and then gathering the force into himself he enhanced his muscles prior to making the leap to provide heightened speed and agility upon landing. Without further preamble he leapt to the cat walk while drawing the sabre into his hand though not activating it. Landing on the platform he took a few steps towards the Zabrak, gathering the force around himself, he didn't use it as an attack, but more used it to create a barrier. It was tempting to strike the Zabrak in the back as he had landed intentionally behind him. However he couldn't, his honor wouldn't allow. "I don't mean to intrude on your belief that you have taken the high ground but I fear you have not. I thought to strike you before you realized my presence among all the other living beings but there would be no honor in it. If you would turn to face me I would like you to indulge my courtesy by answering a question. Why do you use the power the cosmos has given you the way you do, why not use it to free those who cannot free themselves and to spread power and knowledge through the galaxy?" While waiting for a response he dropped into a Thrysian combat stance and began formulating a strategy for dealing with the Zabrak after he answered the question. It was after all his first time dealing with a Jedi and he had to understand why they acted the way they did, hiding their power and only allowing its use if used how they directed.
  7. Welcome Sammy great to have you! If you have any questions on where to begin or how to begin please don't hesitate to ask. Have fun!
  8. ((As Jek Squall)) Jek had seen conflict. The Zabrak had been in skirmishes before, he'd been forced to draw blood. It was something no Jedi relished in, but in the back of their minds knew that some day it could easily happen. This, though? This was war on a scale Jek couldn't have fathomed. He hadn't even faced off against a Sith before, though he'd been trained. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. The words repeated over and over in his mind as the shuttle traversed silently through the war zone. At any moment, a stray turbolaser or missile could have ended them. Instead, something much worse rocked the ship as they neared the station: a tractor beam. The enemy had them now, likely directing them to a fortified position where it would be easy to slaughter all of them. There is no chaos, there is harmony. As the shuttle touched down, he took a rebreather from the Shistavanen, but knew that his call was the wrong one. "All due respect, but there's minimal resistance out there. We stay here and we're asking for a concussion rocket fired up the ramp to turn our insides into goo. If we want to survive this, the only answer is to press forward while we still have a chance to take up a solid beachhead against them!" Taking a spare blaster from the shuttle's emergency weapon rack, Jek checked the charge and then swiftly headed out of the shuttle. The young Jedi used his lightsaber to cover the scattering of blaster fire hailed at him as he quickly surveyed the situation in the mad dash for the closest cover. There were only about ten or so troopers already in the bay, at random positions. The technician workers were still clearing the bay, but had scattered at the first sounds of blaster fire, fearing for their lives. Jek knew this was only the beginning, and in a couple minutes this hangar was likely going to be swarming with troops and heavy weapons fire. His gaze turned upwards as he scrambled for a plan, and he noticed a network of maintenance catwalks near the ceiling of the hangar. Summoning the Force to him, his legs recoiled, rocketing the Zabrak up to neatly land on one of the catwalks. If he was seen, then he would only draw fire away from the crew below, and he was now in a superior position to return fire. This may have been his first major engagement, but he was determined to not have it be his last. There is no death, there is the Force.
  9. Despite the recent beefing of the security here at Felucia, it was still a relaxed atmosphere outside the refugee camps and within the Temple grounds for most travelers. Most were scanned and allowed entrance while Jedi Masters roamed its many halls making mental notes of each that visited, even some requiring the occasional probing approach if one's mind seemed too well guarded. One of these Masters was a Jedi Instructor by the name of Tre' Vo, a unique Kaminoan with green eyes whose slender form seemed to almost glide through its many halls as he walked amongst those seeking refuge, aid, or even medical help. It was during one of these visits when he felt a ripple of emotions pulsing about, his gaze shifting and falling upon a human girl that had recently walked in, the look upon her face echoing it both amazement and of confusion. With a smile, he made his approach. "How can I help you, little one?" He poised in question as he approached Solestran, his longer slender fingers intertwining as he clasped his hands together and bowed his elongated neck. "I am Jedi Master Tre' Vo, but you are welcome to call me Tre'." As he spoke, his green gaze fell upon her in his own wonderment, curious questions as to what had brought her to Felucia and what it was that she sought, tempted to but reluctantly not allowing himself to prowl about her mind as a small few would do, and instead choosing to let her reveal herself as she wished.
  10. It was a long distace from Chandrila to Felucia, or so it felt for Solestran. It probably felt that much longer simply because she had to flee from her homeworld because it was dangerous. Her mother needed to stay at their home because she had business to take care of, but she didn’t want Solestran to stay there and possibly encounter whatever or whoever would be coming. Unbeknownst to her mother this trip had a duel purpose for her, while she had traveled to a safer planet, she had hoped to find the Jedi and train with them. She knew that she was force sensitive, because her father had told her. However, she didn’t know how much, or if she could be Jedi worthy, but it was something that she had wanted to do for most of her childhood. Once she was off of her transport, she asked someone how to get to where the Jedi were, but they didn’t seem to indicate much outside of a shuttle that would take her the remaining distance to her desired destination. While she had been tired, she was too excited, and more so, nervous, about what laid ahead of her. Once she reached the Jedi Temple, so many emotions were going through her, she wasn’t sure how to process them. She almost wanted to turn around and head back, but she was low on money, and didn’t want to blow her opportunity, this was her one shot. As she entered the temple, she was amazed at the site as she had never seen anything quite like it before. She stood in the reception area, not quite sure who she should talk to next.
  11. The path they chose wasn’t clear though, and a member of Hornet Squadron, their escort, took a hit and exploded. The pilot somehow survived, that much Tobias could feel. There were others who weren’t so fortunate, one of the enemy fighters exploded off on their flank, Hornet Squad taking revenge for their destroyed craft. One after another a flash of light would flare up. Turning his back to the view port, he looked over the beings in the shuttle with him. The nine Barabel, one Noghri, three Wookiee’s and the various human and humanoids, too indistinct to stand out in their armored vac suit, save for the Nautolan at his side, focused on the fight ahead of them. “Brace for impact!” One of the pilots said, and Tobias called to the force to help steady him. As did all the other Jedi in the shuttle. The vessel spun and it did lessen the impact of the missile that impacted the side of the shuttle. Sliding sideways towards the station as if drifting sideways on a race track. Tobias had briefed the others in the shuttle and described a vague battle plan. Currently, their presences reverberated with anticipation of the coming fight. The warriors in each of the shuttles didn’t have to wait long, as they just heard the call out from the pilots. “Boarding party, stand ready.” The forty five others in the shuffling from foot to foot and started to check their weapons and equipment. “Ten seconds!” They braced as the ship swung to the side, the station looming in the forward viewport. Showing the battle going on outside, the fleet pressing further and further towards the station, ion batteries still firing a stream of blue bolts into the station. The port side of the shuttle came to life as magnetic grapples shot into the station and the boarding tube shot forward, torching a hole into the station with plasma torches around the pod. Tobias made his way to the front of the crowd. After all who was he to ask others to lay down their lives if he didn’t do the same? He was a leader, not a boss and he’d chosen to lead by example. Pulling the burst rifle from his back, he checked the power pack and it was still charged to capacity. With an exertion from the Force, his face shield slid shut and he was sealed inside the suit. A brief moment of darkness and he seized the moment to breath and flood his presence with satisfaction and pride. They were about to dive into the fight. The laser cone finished, and the internal iris spread open to reveal the station interior, and their welcoming committee as well as a section of bulkhead on the floor. A fire team of Black Sun enforcers awaited them when they surveyed the scene. Tobias snorted as he pulled the trigger twice and let loose six shots. The four bodies hit the floor, holes burned into their flesh. “Go!” Tobias shouted into the comlink and the 46 warriors charged into the station. Not blindly, and not foolishly. There were fireteams stationed at intersections and critical points. Or at least there would be once they progressed further into the station. The Barabels on the other hand started to sprint forward, leaving the others behind. They had their own mission. Tobias and crew moved forward and reports came in one at a time that each shuttle had discharged their contents, fifty or so warriors, into the station. As the barabels turned left and disappeared, Tobias turned right and soon came to find himself looking at a dozen Enforcers. They were ready, and Tobias didn’t even try to duck back behind cover. He just vaulted across the intersection and into the other side of the hallway. A dozen others followed suit and the firefight ensued, brief but bloody. One of the Jedi fell to a bolt through the shoulder from popping out too far from cover. Two others escorted the injured man back to the previous checkpoint and they would follow suit all the way back to the shuttle. The dozen plus Tobias made their way forward. Occasionally bumping into enforcers or other resistance. While they had been on the station less than five minutes, it was still quick enough for the Adi-Wan to go down. Tobias was so informed by one of the shuttle pilots relaying updates. A quick check with the Force and he could feel Adenna’s presence still. And healthy. Gritting his teeth, he fought the urge to run back into the shuttle and rescue her. Or even call the Prism in to retrieve her. Tobias has both loved and hated the plan Adenna proposed and went with. Tobias did not relay the Adi-Wan’s destruction, making such announcements would only distract the boarding parties. If they wanted to pull the odds back in their favor, they would have to win this part. His team was almost at their mark, and the final part of the retrieval would commence. ~~~ Shuttle 5-5 had gotten to the ‘top’ of the station a little battered, but otherwise healthy and intact. Once it had gotten there the shuttle corkscrewed down the length of the station, maneuvering towards the bottom. Once there, the boring lasers latched onto the station and discharged its complement of infiltrators. ~~~ Elsewhere the shuttles managed to find a spot to latch onto and spill their contents into the station. While each shuttle did make it, there were some casualties- mostly their fighter escorts but some attacks on the shuttle found their mark. Most of the healthy warriors made their way onto the station.
  12. ((Armiena Draygo.)) Draygo couldn’t stop looking at the shape beyond Dark Sun Station. Even as stray rounds of flak detonated nearby and rattled the cockpit, slamming her head into the durasteel girders and cutting a miniscule gash into her unhelmeted forehead, the veteran Jedi couldn’t take her eyes off the malevolent shadow that the Scarab seemed to cast into the black. “S-foils ‘tack positions, shields forward. Um, Genesis? I am about to do something very stupid.” A series of metallic clacks and electronic beeps could be heard from her station as she worked at the control surfaces of the B-Wing. “My son’s under the guns of that monster. If I can peel away some of their forces, grab the attention of some of their fighters so our shuttles can make it to Dark Sun… I’m very sorry if I get us both killed.” During this time, while the B-Wing’s alarms were humming warnings of enemy batteries attempting to track their juking fighter, Armiena had been making an unorthodox and illegal alteration to their Identify Friend/Foe transponder. At the very end of her apology, their transponder code had been altered to reflect that of a neutrally-aligned vessel and the ship had been given a new name. She thumbed the ship’s comlink to transmit without encryption, so that anyone within range could listen. Armiena had found from decades at war that the mention of her name tended to provoke three types of responses: a sort of trusting devotion, murderous rage and blaster fire, or utter indifference. There were few exceptions to this rule: people generally would follow her into battle and trust her to get them through alive, or they would attempt to kill her, or simply try to forget that she had ever lived. At this moment, Armiena was counting on those highly polarized responses to peel away as many forces from the Black Sun fleet as possible. Her hands pulled back hard on the controls, sending the B-Wing into a steep climb. She dumb-fired a proton torpedo into a flight of approaching TIE Defenders, a blind shot guided only by the Force that she immediately forgot about--even when the warhead pierced cleanly through the canopy of one of the fighters thirty seconds later and painted the interior of the fighter with the viscera of its pilot. But that was a half-minute into the future, and Armiena was focused on grabbing the attention of every single Black Sun squadron that she could and surviving the next few minutes. She cleared her throat and screamed into the comlink: “Say my name!” Any sensor that targeted her would find that she had changed the name of her B-Wing starfighter to I Am Armiena Darkfire. The starfighter plowed into the fray heedless of numbers or escort, corkscrewing through the enemy fighters towards the Totenkopf II. In a moment, that ship could lock down the entire engagement and prevent the Jedi from withdrawing, dooming the entire fleet and her son to its guns. It needed to die, whether under her guns or under her lightsaber.
  13. Hello, my name is Sammy, and I am new to this site as of yesterday. I do not have a lot of experience, I have only been roleplaying for a couple of years. The roleplays I have done have mainly been Harry Potter, and as a Star Wars fan, more so a Jedi fan, I am excited to be here and gain more, and different experiences. I look forward to getting to write with you all.
  14. Identity Real Name: Solestran A.K.A: Homeworld: Chandrila Species: Human Physical Description Age: 17 Height: 120 Weight: 5’5” Hair: Black Eyes: Green Sex: Female Equipment Clothing or Armor: Basic Weapon: None Common Inventory: 100 credits, blaster Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Alignment: Neutral Good Current Faction Affiliation: Jedi Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Light Trained by: Trained who: Known Skills: Background: Solestran grew up on Chandrila with her mother. Her father is a Sith, and she chose to cut her ties with him. She wants more than the trivial life of helping her mom on her homestead. She wants excitement and adventure, more so she wants to make a difference and become a better person. She struggles with anger and at times violence, which is why she wants to change her ways, and join the Jedi. She also has a strong sense of justice and wants to stop evil beings like her father. Ship Registration Name: None at the moment Class: Model: Manufacturer: Length: Armaments: Armor: Anti-Personnel Defenses: Modifications: Appearance: Average female build, average height, weight is a little on the heavier side. Fair/olive skinned, short black hair.
  15. ((Jedi Fleet Post 3)) A constant stream of light played over the monitors of the Adi-Wan's bridge displays as the onslaught continued from the Sith fleet. The shields were doing their best, but they couldn't handle the amount of firepower being levied against the ship. "Transfer control to the auxiliary bridge!" shouted Admiral Antilles as it becomes more than clear they cannot outrun or withstand the firepower against them. Even before the bridge crew could evacuate, the shields flickered under the strain and a series of explosions rippled metal and the bulkheads along the cruiser's dorsal. The bridge took a direct hit which tore apart a section of the hull exposing it to vacuum. Adenna dove towards the central shaft containing the turbolift down inside the heart of the ship as everyone else who wasn't immediately killed or trapped attempted to do the same. As the atmosphere began to vacate the bridge, debris, consoles, and crew were sucked out into space. Adenna felt herself falling backward and reacted by reaching out to the doors of the turblift with the Force and pulling herself towards them. As she did, she grabbed one of the struggling bridge officers and pulled her along with her. When Adenna reached the doors, she pulled herself in and to the side to escape the majority of the flow of air. Helping hands from those who had already made it grabbed the grandmaster and the other crewman and helped secure them. She looked back and saw only a couple of crew still left struggling to get to relative safety and pulled both of them in with some well placed tugs with the Force. With one more look over the ruined bridge, she slammed the control sealing it off and sending the survivors down into the rest of the ship. Explosions continued to rock the ship as they sped down several score meters. Adenna looked at the mere dozen survivors and noted with great sadness that Admiral Antilles was not among them. She would mourn him later, but for now, adrenaline and determination kept her focused. Pulling out the commlink, she switched it to the third saved channel that linked her to the ship's command frequency. "Main bridge is down, as is Admiral Antilles. Shields won't hold, so dump the ordinance and evacuate the Adi-Wan. Repeat: abandon ship." Adenna, along with the rest of the crew, began evacuating as a select few brave souls remained behind to do what was possible to keep the ship intact as long as possible. The shields were collapsing letting more and more shots melt the dorsal part of the ship until eventually they would collapse entirely and the Adi-Wan would be entirely at the mercy of the Sith bombardment. Even though the energy needed to fire the turbolasers and ion cannons was shunted to shields, the proton missile launchers required considerably less power to operate. With the Black Sun fleets looming ever closer, the gunners onboard dumped every single shot in their magazine at the Black Sun Victory class Star Destroyer Sariel's Judgment. * * * Jedi Fleet Group Two continued its assault of the Dark Sun Station with a constant stream of ion cannon fire against the station in general and select turbolaser strikes against weapon placements. The goal was to disable the station and provide whatever cover was possible for the incoming assault shuttles. Commodore Neldis clenched his hands as he received reports of the impending demise of the Adi-Wan. With Admiral Antilles killed, he assumed command of the Jedi forces and began guiding their assaults. The fighters from his fleet group were clearing out anything launched from the station or that had decided to poke its nose at them. The four squadrons of XJ7-wings from the Justice's Mandate formed up to make a proton torpedo run against the Golan I station with support from the Marauder corvette Shien's missiles. Once they launched two torpedoes each, they would continue past the defense station and launch another torpedo run against the engines of the ISD Holofernes while the Black Sun's fighters were engaging the GA A-wings. Fighter forces from Fleet Group One in the thick of the battle would focus on defense against the Sith fighter forces while the bombers reformed to attack the Black Sun's Nebulon-B frigate Canto Bight Fiasco. The bomber force, once eight squadrons, had taken a few losses in their first bombing run against the Sith, but still had a tremendous amount of firepower to be focused on the weakened spine of the escort frigate. The main Jedi fleet continued to approach the Black Sun forces, engaging them at point blank range with the hopes of finishing off the weakened Sariel's Judgment then moving onto the next target of opportunity. * * * * * Summary: Fleet Group One/Relief Flotilla (main Jedi force between the Sith and Black Sun) The Adi-Wan is all but lost and is evacuating in escape pods and shuttles. It dumps the entire magazines of its proton torpedo launchers at the VSD Sariel's Judgement. With the exception of the Lancer class Shii-Cho (which is providing anti-fighter support), all ships are focusing on the Sariel's Judgement. Fighters are focusing on keeping the Sith fighters at bay while bombers are preparing a torpedo run against the Nebulon-B Canto Blight Fiasco. Fleet Group Two Taking unfocused but accurate fire from Dark Sun Station and returning with ion barrages and focused turbolaser strikes back at the weapons emplacements. All ships present take light damage and lose some shield energy Most of the fighters focus on precision strikes against the station since there is minimal harassing fighter screen Four squads of XJ7-wings make torpedo run on the Golan I supported by the Maurader corvette Shien.
  16. Control, control was what was needed now. The adrenaline that was coursing through his veins as he observed the shuttle was hard to control but manageable. Focusing he examined the shuttle and reached out gently with the force to see what may be inside. Ah force users, that meant Jedi. Looking over to his master he couldn't discern what she was thinking but knew that when the time came he would lay down his life if needed to ensure she survived. She had designs that would help to free the galaxy and he wouldn't allow those designs to be destroyed. He himself had plans but in the end he knew that the knowledge he had aquired and written down would still be of use even should he fall. The formula's for his creations were in their most basic stages but could be expanded upon. Regardless though this would prove interesting when the shuttle opened, if it would indeed open. Staring at the craft it powered down and seemed to acknowledge that it could not escape the hanger. The creatures inside were tense, at least they gave off an aura of nervousness. That is except for two of them. They were the force users, one seemed quite powerful while the other appeared to be a neophyte, not unlike himself. What mysteries could they share if they simply put aside their petty differences and worked to freeing the Galaxy of its outdated misconceptions. He doubted that they would stop and swap stories but it was always in the forefront of his mind to attempt to gain knowledge, freely given being the prefered method. However should it come to having to extract it through other means, well that was not something he would object to either. Focusing instead on his surroundings he began to formulate potential plans of action for various scenarios, it was going to be an interesting day, even as the batte raged outside his mental focuse allowed him to ignore this and focus exclusively on the problem in front of him. "Master, with your permision I will strive to deal with the lesser force user within the shuttle should it come to blows. You have only to ask and I will lay down my life for our cause. All I ask is that my work, the beginings of my work, be carried forward to help you and those like you achieve your dreams."
  17. Earlier
  18. /2 / T E N S I O N The blackened warships were cocooned in a varnish of staggered smoke, a haunted fleet smeared with the acrylic polish of the most unnatural of predators. Hauls of weaponry sprouted an imagery of death and destruction, overwhelming firepower belching every practical ordnance into the crown of the Adi-Wan. The distance from the target was at expected length, but the elevated and angular inlet of the Sith Fleet was menacing for any vessel that would undoubtedly fall within range. The blitzkrieg bombardment from the entirety of the Sith convoy would ordinarily tear the hinges off of whatever they deemed prey, the stream of focus-fire super-heating the very fabric of space. The surprise ambush was orchestrated near flawlessly by way of the communication relays that were left unhampered, and a stoical patience tempered by the strategy of the Spider. The known Jedi ship, a Mon-Cal of all the ships in their repertoire, was weakest from the crest of their design. Surprisingly however, the Mon-Cal remained unblemished, and crawling from those same coordinates was now a shore of star-fighters. The outbreak of firepower from the Black Scarab and the neighboring vessels that shouldered the beast, did little to sway their advancement, but would still rain through them nonetheless. The approach of the Jedi squadrons timed themselves for the immediacy of the hungering Sith squadrons. Widespread formations of TIE/D Defenders howled from their hangers, beginning with those that hailed boastfully from the flagship, ready for a dogfight. The deadlier and more experienced TIE/vn Silencers dispersed like a falling of a flower bloom, into the loose formation of their allied star-fighters. TIE Predators carefully shadowed in from behind the Defenders, the eyes of the formation as they appeared, watching closely for an opening. “Well will you look at these bad boys!” OM-72-8 cackled hilariously across the communications relay of the infamous OMEGA Squadron, easily amused by the sound of his own voice. Scout was first and foremost in breaking the fermented silence, grinning from ear to ear behind the ominous matte black of his helmet. “These coward fu-” Cursing them in chain, he riled with maniacal laughter and over-confidently roughed his controls, rolling the excellent maneuverability of his Tie/vn Silencer to the forefront of the formation. What followed was an innumerable amount of identical vessels that pulled forward and projected their natural shielding. Six TIE/vn silencer squadrons to be exact, included in such was OMEGA, in conjunction with at least ten squadrons of TIE/D defenders that burped into, and formed an obstructive blockade for the impromptu offensive against them. The swarm was frighteningly swift and plowed through the loose shrapnel, fractures of metal digressing entirely, but still finding damage on a small number TIE/D Defenders that trailed. For a few of the newer pilots, the surprise jeopardized their movement and forced unwieldy collisions. Overall, their transitioning was masterful, a keen testament to the imperialistic discipline stemming from their veterans. The technology of a projected energy shield on the TIE/vn Silencers enabled a soft push towards the opening bombardment, but the make-shift barricade would face perilous exposure if another shelling followed. Strangely, none came, and the enemy fighter squadrons escaped with a curious hit-and-run. In earnestness, the Sith-Imperial fighters were prepared and had been launched the moment the Sith Fleet pulled from hyperspace, the flight crews and pilots impatiently waiting for hours for the moment that their enemy would be revealed. Unfortunately, the apex of their arrival had been anticlimactic. OM-72-4, or call sign Huntress, sighed deeply as she rolled her eyes into another star system. “Already? They’re running already?!” The pitch in her voice hit a little higher whenever a smidgen of frustration set into her fuzzy eyebrows. All that meant was that call sign Scout, was laughing louder and more obnoxiously for his crew to hear or to mute. “..Wait, wait. Do you feel that? It’s happening again..” Laughter turned to curiosity, and curiosity turned to silence. There was an unmatched wealth of experience in the connectivity of a battle meditation shared between the armies of the Sith that suddenly spiked the totality of their minds. The Dark King could only smile at the unraveling of the events before him, as he passively coupled the power and minds of those that drank from the dark side by the mere settling of his eyes, the many thousands chain-linked to his command. The synaptic fastenings were raw, and eerily intoxicating. The men, the women, and the creatures of the Sith Empire would forfeit any measure of inertia, and succumb to a brilliant and fervent focus. Their minds would become riddled with a euphoric sense of duty that over-matched the imperialistic doctrine that the masses had acceded to, fixating themselves now to the indomitable will of King Exodus and the Dark Side. Their enemies were most likely of the predictable sense, abstaining from the flush of emotion they felt whenever the presence of the Sith drew near, a tantalizing dread that was combined with an attempt to ignore the inevitable shadow that it cast. This was no welcoming, this was far from a familiarity that any Jedi here could understand. This was the drowning of the Light, a submerging of a cowering breed. To feel the itch of evil on their heels, was the understanding that the reaper could now see them, and that Death was here for them all. The Emperor-King nested on a massive bridge, multiple walkways that spider-webbed with varying engineered constructs and the specialists to operate them. The oeuvre of the Anzati Arachnid, every chamber regally set with imperial decorum but equally met with a heavy saturation of Sith grandeur. An spider-legged iron-anchored command throne that opened up to the beautiful vista of battle, sat high above the footbridges to oversee the operations below. Exodus with eyes completely white, perched towards the mammoth view-port, feeling more than his eyes could see within these walls, fanning the flames of an imposing hive-minded concentration. Lady Nyrys kept an endearing proximity for a deal of time, before the hunt had called her name to purpose. “The Dark Lord is the will, and we are the blade.” She spoke the words before departure, and the words echoed in the minds of the Imperial Watch, whom made it their business to secure the position of their Emperor. Then, the words chanted across the battle meditation slowly, dripping into the brain-pan of all those that savored the mental convergence. Heavy attack formations now made up the advance guard of the Sith Fleet, constituted by the nine TIE/D Defenders squadrons, six TIE/vn Silencers squadrons, two Predator squadrons, four Scimitar Assault Bomber squadrons, and the brooding tip of the Bleeding Kyber. On their flanks were lighter formations, Blackblade and Warspite on the left flank, Hyperion and Sunder on the right flank. The rest of the fighter squadrons interchanged their positions at the rear. The heavy attack lines of each heavy formation moved forward to spearhead the assault, still utilizing the open space from above, sub-light engines burning brightly at full power as the serrated ships sliced into the black of space, still unleashing the heaviest barrages towards the escaping Adi-Wan. The direction of the Sith Fleet aimed to sweep to the left of the Station, while maintaining their ninety-degree angle above the Jedi Fleet below. Trajectory would see them draw nearer to their allies, while their ‘northern’ latitude kept their free-fire safe from allies. Men and women of sure-fire command began boarding operations, assembling task forces to pursue the captured, and those that knew no better than to flee. The influx and influence of the Dark Lord was a windfall of a favor, more incredible of a skin than that of the darkest of nexuses to wear. In this web, a personal prey would soon make itself available for the King to feast on. Ventral and dorsal heavy turbo-lasers repeated their savagery with continued fire into the vacuum of space while cannons and launchers belched kaleidoscopic munitions at their enemies in the course of their chase. The Black Scarab loomed as the cornerstone of it all, blanketing the battlefield with vehemence. The relatively small crew of the Warspite faced a measure of panic as an imposing ISD-II maneuvered themselves into the fray and began firing a meatier barrage of turbo-lasers. The gunship was a horror when displaying its powerful arsenal, but the strength of the Misericordia and what it could carry, was no small thing. The distance between them and their adversaries was still considerable, but a few heavy-set turbolasers connected and smashed the integrity of the entire structure. The deflector shields heavily waned, fluttering before the acceleration of the corvette kicked into gear. The Warspite peeled from the flank of the Scarab and quickly employed evasive procedures, small and quick enough to ruse the firing from the brawny ISD-II from this range. The spearheaded Sith Fleet continued forward, and from above, on the tail of the Adi-Wan, aligning from the same angle they had come in on and advancing on it's starboard. This molded an interesting trajectory for the three forces in question; the Misericordia flanked the Adi-Wan, moving towards it's port, and the entire Sith Offensive angled downward, towards the starboard of the Adi-Wan and sweeping towards the left of the Dark Sun Station. Still, with the retreat of the Adi-Wan, there remained no vessels between them and the Sith amalgamation. * Silencers and Defenders accept the initial assault with their projected/natural shielding. Small scores of star-fighters are slightly damaged by the spread Fleet continues to bear down onto the Adi-Wan, firing their full capacities Formations fill out, while Warspite takes fire from the Misericordia, and separates slightly from formation to take evasive measure. Star-fighters are deployed and spread into formations, at the ready. The harassing hunt continues
  19. War was nothing unusual for Mythos, its core concept close to a meld of hunting and policing, both of which had consumed his life. A veteran Marshal and a natural born hunter, his skills were as they should. And as chaos rippled around them, he was as a stone amidst it's current, solid and unwavering. Beneath the mask where darkness hid his gaze, his eyes were calm and alert, his mind collected and settled, as he gazed about the compartment toward his fellow passengers. Most were still, despite the fear that had settled in their hearts and the unease that tempted their nerves. Some even fought to dismiss the shakes that trembled within themselves. But there were a few whom mimicked his own steeled persona, veterans in their own rights whether as Soliders of many wars or as natural born killers. But such was the way of the Galaxy, and even the paragons of the light held a gravitational pull for those with darkness within. War had that effect, turning sensible beings into vengeful and cold blooded warriors. And in a sense, Mythos was no different than them. After so many horrors witnessed, one would grow to welcome them as naturally as they were to draw breath. These were the beings who stood upon the precipice between light and dark, finding a balance within, lest they fall into its eternal abyss. Mythos' foot slid forward as the transport halted, the confused and freaked pilots frantically accelerating, pressing random buttons only known to them as they attempted to maneuver out of the web upon which they had been caught within. Chaos erupted within the pressurized cabin as those with fear dwelling upon their hearts reacted without thought and some even recited prayers out loud in desperation. But for most, the moment of reality began to set in as the realization of the tractorbeam having grasped them brought forth a fury of emotions. And as for Mythos, the scar upon his back seared with arthritis as his thoughts fell back to Coruscant and the day he recieved it. "It seems we've been caught boys and girls..." Mythos mumbled out loud as his mind returned to the moment, the towering Shistavanen making his way toward the rear and the exit. His large clawed hands grabbed handfuls of rebreathers and tossed them about the cabin. "There's not telling what to expect, so have these at the ready." Mythos gazed down at the one meant for him and seeing that it wouldn't fit, tossed it aside as his gaze shifted toward the front at the pilots. "Ensign, shut her down. There's no use fighting a losing battle." As he turned back toward the rear of the ship at its exit, he grimaced beneath his mask, the sounds of him licking his chops silently echoing beneath its duraplated form as he brought forth the Scatter Rifle that adorned his shoulder to the ready, many of those behind him responding in unison. The inside grew eerily quite as they awaited what some felt was certain doom as only the clatter of teeth and gear managed to escape, the sounds of explosions and finally touch down erupting outside. And then silence fell completely as they listened for what awaited them, the ancient scatter rifle tapping the durasteel palm of his clawed gauntlet. "Hunker down boys. Let's see who will be the first to enter?" Mythos spoke in anticipation, a glimmer in the Marshal's eyes.
  20. OOC((Duel request for Mythos and Aidan's stunt double aboard the Scarab)) A black canvas painted with fleeting streaks of red, green, and blue, along with the occasional orange or blue blossom of explosive energy lay before Darth Nyrys. In another respect, it looked like a top down perspective RTS game, something she would have played with her friends during the Before. This wasn’t her first time being on a warship during a battle, but it was the first time that she had seen the Jedi maintain enough of a spine to commit to an extended firefight. She hadn’t been present at Onderon for the second battle, but she had read reports and according to them, the Jedi ran after only minimal contact. Apparently here they had sought to isolate the Black Sun fleet and overwhelm it with the help of their allies, the fragmented remains of the Galactic Alliance and the treacherous Imperial Remnant. Failures and oathbreakers were fitting company for the hypocritical Jedi. On paper, the Jedi sounded like heroes of legend, warrior mystics dedicated to protecting the light and the people that carry it. Selfless individuals who wielded power but never owned it. Goodness in a vast void of apathy and cruelty. The reality however painted a far less compelling picture. Cultures genocided for failing to step in line, children stolen away from parents and forced into cult like indoctrination, slave armies of clones, planets burned or worse for picking the “wrong” side. War didn’t make heroes, only popular monsters, and the Jedi had been fighting this war for as long as the Sith had. Nyrys didn’t begrudge the Jedi for the life they chose, in different circumstances she would find it admirable, but their need to force others to surrender to their beliefs was unforgivable. Remembering her mother and father sitting her down and telling her that her Grammy and her aunts and uncles and cousins were all gone still brought forth palpable feelings of grief, loss, helplessness, and rage. It was a massive emotional wound shared by the survivors, and it was left untreated until it festered and became infected. When the Jedi saw what had been born of their actions, they admonished the weeping and the wounded for having such a darkness growing within them, and denied any wrongdoing. So much for champions of justice. The Galactic Alliance would later pardon the Jedi that committed the murders, and he would quietly slip away from the public’s narrow focus as new scandals and controversies arose. But his legacy remained, and the Kuati people would never forget the crimes of the Jedi and the Rebellion. Now that legacy of violence had come to Dark Sun Station, and while killing its adherents would bring no meaningful justice to the dead of Kuat, it might just save the civilians on the station. She cast herself into the infinite chaos of interwoven connections between candle flames in the Force, a web of silver strands reflecting a sourceless iridescent light. After some searching, she found what she was looking for amidst the swirling confusion. “Prepare bay epsilon for a shuttle seizure and inform gunnery that I want this enemy shuttle tractored in. I expect things will go smoothly, but just in case, be prepared to seal and vent the bay should things take an unexpected turn.” The junior officer took the datapad with the shuttle designation and moved with purpose to execute Nyrys’s orders. Nyrys took a moment to regard the Dark Lord, inscrutable as always as he observed the battle unfolding. She wondered if her efforts had been enough to satisfy his expectations for a new agent. Perhaps her doubt was baseless, but it kept her sharp and always looking for ways to better herself. “The Dark Lord is the will, and we are the blade.” She punctuated the motto with a salute of thumping her hand over her heart while holding her sword just below the hilt on the scabbard. Gathering up her apprentice she departed to meet their new prey. “The next phase of your training will require that you overcome an enemy of some ability, an adept of the Force like yourself, in single combat. I will not aid you in this trial outside of preventing outside interference, and failure most likely will result in death. May you find your worth in your sword’s poetry.” The pair arrived at the bay and at Nyrys’s instruction took cover as the gunnery crew began reeling in their prey. “Situations like this, find something that you trust to not fail under enemy fire, and wait for them to blow their load on the charge. They’ll always start with something meant to make people duck or leave cover, deny both, remain level headed, and when they get in range make a clean strike.”
  21. Sophia did not sleep well after she had completed her “I may be dead in a few days” message. Perhaps it was the diet of cheap beer, greasy flatbread, and instant-caf with which she had been sustaining herself had twisted her digestion;perhaps it was her week-long streak of self-insomnia and dwelling in a concrete closet reeking of motor oil for nearly two days; it perhaps it was a somber reflection on her imminent mortality and what afterlife a being such as her could anticipate; sleep did not come naturally. When faced with these bouts of insomnia, the historian tended to rely on a proven regimen of pharmaceuticals to lull her to sleep (largely in the form of orally-administered ethanol), but she supposed that recovering from a skull-shattering hangover wouldn’t be conducive to her continued survival… so it was a long night of tossing and turning for her. The next day, Sophia began her search for a pilot. As Carida was the capitol world of the Imperial Remnant, there was a nonstop stream of refugees fleeing from Coruscant and other planets in the core--but not much outgoing traffic. Just like everything else on this planet, the pilot’s cantina she was guided to was obsessively clean and obnoxiously-lit. The stench of stale ale that tended to linger in these establishments was absent; the clientele was predominantly human, and a mediocre band of jizz-wailers piped from one of the bar’s well-lit corners, occasionally pausing to advertise one of their uncreative covers. Two or three people, probably close friends or a producer, made a valiant show of applauding after every song. Sophia hated this place more than her narrator could possibly describe. An appropriate fate, she decided, would have been to seal every exit and flood the entire establishment with tihaar. The foundations would then be razed by orbital bombardment and paved over to make room for an appropriately rundown dive. But she had a job to do; coasting through the bar while nursing an mass-produced ale best described as a bad date on the Great Western Sea, the historian plied the lingering crowd of resting pilots in the hopes of hiring transport to Coruscant. However, after even mentioning her destination, the typical reaction was to outright laugh in her face or leave while muttering an expletive along the lines of “frack that spit.” Sophia met with a lot of species and was rejected by a lot of accents. Until Sophia met with Giza'valla (“My friends call me Giza,” the red-skinned Twi’lek explained). The pilot seemed to be putting on an impression of a younger Han Solo; she wore tight-fitting pants lined on either side by a series of yellow stripes and a beaten jacket of cheap, fake nerf leather. But she didn’t run when Sophia named her destination. "I need passage to Coruscant." Her prospective pilot let out a bark of laughter. Seeing that Moriarty's expression was fixed, her voice lowered and a tremor of disbelief regulated down her lekku. She muttered a low phrase under her breath--probably some phrase in her native tongue that couldn't easily be translated to Basic. "You must be pfasking kidding me. After what the Mandos did? They'll kill you the first opportunity they get." "'Magine so." Another spasm of the headtails followed. "Do you... actually want to die? I don't take suicidals or--" "I'd rather not. Honest. Look, I just need you to get me to Coruscant, I don't care which starport, no one is expecting me--that's all I need. I can pay ten thou in ash." "Fifteen." That reply came in an instant. Sophia coughed and set down her mug of warm ale. A paroxysm of reflexive coughing followed as her lungs attempted to expel an inhaled gulp. "Beg… beg your pardon? For a one-way?" "This won't be like a hop and skip to Corellia. Triple Zero is a warzone, I have to expect that the planet is blockaded and that the Mandos are running caparound the system. If I'm going to risk my neck, it's going to be extra. Fifteen, all in advance." Sophia ran some calculations in her head--fifteen thousand was nearly enough to purchase a beat up freighter or a shuttle and to take the risk of running the blockade on her own. That ship wasn't likely to survive for a return trip, but she was already expecting the journey to be a one-way trip. Credits were not exactly a concern of hers in that light. However, she would have preferred being smuggled onto the planet surface, rather than alerting every Mando within a light-hour to her presence and living on the run. She took a sip of lomin-ale, the drinking souring in her mouth. "Very well. Fifteen it is." "Pleasure. I’ll start pre-flight checks right away, sooner we can take off the better. I’m on landing pad seven-two-five cresh, ask for the Twilight Dancer.” ____ Sophia shook Giza’valla’s surprisingly warm hand. Taking a glance at her half-full glass of lomin-ale, she promptly decided better of finishing off the disgusting beverage and simply departed the vile den of mass-produced beer, terrible music, and scarcely-tolerable fried food. The cost of the ferry would drain the majority of the funds that had been donated by Misal’s organization, but she supposed that a return flight from a planet conquered by the Mandalorians was an unlikely eventuality. The historian inwardly groaned when she saw the vessel piloted by her ferry. It was an old YT-2400 light freighter, and the unpainted saucer hull of the vessel was speckled with random patches of hull. The outline of a co-pilot droid was visible through the tinted canopy of the cockpit. As it happened, her perception of her ferry’s appearance was incorrect. Giza’valla, she noted as the Twi’lek came strutting down the boarding ramp of the freighter with a stubby blaster pistol slung inconveniently-low on her hip, wasn’t attempting to imitate Han Solo--she was attempting to put on a display of a Dash Rendar. The Twi’lek was an imitation of an imitation. And Sophia was betting her survival on a poor imitation of a Mandalorian. The historian put on a stolid mask of a stiff upper lip and marched up the boarding ramp, pausing only to deposit a password-protected credit chit into her pilot’s hand. She could guess at the layout of the freighter well enough. While the floor of the ship lifted and turned under her fleet over the course of their lift-off and approach to their hyperspace vector, Sophia, with some difficulty and minor bumps, went through the routine of donning her ersatz beskar’gam in the tiny refresher of the vessel. Fifteen minutes later, exactly according to schedule, they retreated into hyperspace.
  22. Developer introduction and notes Alpha pitch for task forces Each player participating in a fleet battle commands their own task force. If the numbers are uneven, then the admiral with fewer task forces can either choose to take a number of unranked task forces to create an equal conflict, or request a secret win objective from the mods if it makes narrative sense to do so. No engagement is ever considered to include any faction’s entire fleet, and players can enter subsequent battles even if their last task force suffered total destruction. Player commanders are responsible for their task force’s ship composition, names, traditions, and portrayal in the RP, not to mention their actions on the field. If a PC leading a task force is killed, the task force forfeits one round of ability use, and then returns to normal function the following round. Task forces(TFs) gain levels from participating in fleet combat, Any PC led task force starts at blooded, needs two additional battles for veteran, and three further battles for elite (As in, it takes six battles in total to gain elite status). A task force that loses over half of its ships loses a level of veterancy, and a task force that is wiped out loses all veterancy unless it has a bonus to prevent that. Withdrawing is a full round action, but can prevent the loss of valuable experience and abilities. Commanders are expected to maintain lines of communication and goodwill to the opposing players. All fleet abilities are announced at the beginning of the round (in secret) and resolved at the end of the round to represent simultaneous events rather than each post being slightly later in the timeline. Players that fail to meet the three day rule requirement are assumed to repeat their last action if possible. If it’s the first round, their commander is assumed to have choked. Since all actions are determined at the beginning, and resolved at the end, post order of combatants is irrelevant as long as they post in the round, and the three day countdown goes into effect at the start of the round. Some task forces in this list mention that they are supported by smaller ships, such as the Interdiction Cadre. Leaders of these task forces can choose to reallocate removal abilities from their key ship to other ships in the task force to represent other ships tanking fire to keep their key piece on the field. Other task forces are escorts, and can attach themselves to other task forces to allow their ships to serve as support. Cruiser and capital escorts cannot intercept bomber attacks. Removal abilities that overkill a target with damage have the excess distributed to another target in the task force, and if necessary however many more targets are required to account for all of the damage. If the task force is destroyed entirely, the remaining damage is lost. Ship scaling: A Task Force is 6 points One capital is 6 points. One cruiser is 3 points. One frigate is 1 point. Three corvettes are 1 point. (Targeted removal charts will be located at the bottom of the doc for easier comparison and formatting) Task Forces Removal effects and ship health Ship shields and hull by type Corvette: 1(This is not to imply that corvettes don’t have shields, just that the scale of firepower we’re measuring makes them irrelevant.) Frigate: 3/3 Cruiser: 9/9 Capital: 20/20 Damage per by ship type Bomber Wing: 4 Cruiser: 4 Capital: 6 Starfighter Actions Each side gets one starfighter action per round, with some task forces providing additional ones. Bombers Inbound: The fleet’s bombers move to engage a frigate or larger ship, doing direct removal damage. When bombers target ships supported by corvettes their damage is reduced by one. Interception: The commander issuing the order picks two task forces, they cannot cannot be targeted by bombers for this round. Dogfighting: The fleet’s dogfighters focus on clearing a lane for their bombers or interceptors. One Bombers Inbound action does double damage next turn or one Interception action covers an additional task force.
  23. FaceMe Simchats Primer and FAQ Welcome to the FaceMe Simchats forum! This short Primer/FAQ will explain the purpose of the forum as it relates to our roleplay. What is this forum? This forum is a place where members can engage in lengthy holonet meetings outside of the typical hustle and bustle of the main roleplay. In the past, such meetings could take a very long time to finish, rising exponentially with the number of people involved. Sometimes those meetings were even crashed by opportunistic enemies, further delaying the outcome. As such, we have created this forum as a sort of safe space where the meetings or any other holonet communications can be held, outside of the typical flow of the main roleplay forum. How does it work? Your character may participate in these meetings as if they were here, as well as post in the main roleplay as if they weren't. At the conclusion of the meeting here, all participants will acknowledge in the main roleplay forum that the meeting occurred, and any experiences or outcomes then become IC canon with the main roleplay. Topics that are finished will be locked, if the same group wishes to have another meeting, they can make another topic. For now, your character may only participate in one meeting at a time, this is to prevent unnecessary headache when 'merging' the meeting canon with the IC canon. For example, if several meetings were to conclude at the same time, things would get confusing fast. Need further explanation? Please reach out to a roleplay Moderator, and we will do our best to further simplify things.
  24. Media Channels Primer and FAQ Welcome to the Media Channels forum! This short Primer/FAQ will explain the purpose of the forum as it relates to our roleplay. What is this forum? Sometimes it's fun to add a little spice and random world building backstory to our galaxy. Other times it is beneficial to make your faction look good via propaganda campaigns or through public statements. This forum is a place for all news broadcast-type topics to go. While we used to have a single topic in the main roleplay forum for these, they never got the headline-grabbing attention they deserved, so we decided to give them their own forum. How does it work? Any roleplay member may post a topic here, and the topics (and posts therein) are considered part of a news or other media broadcast available to the public via the holonet. Any character in the main roleplay forum can generally see these news broadcasts regardless of location, the rare exception being they do not have the technology to do so and are in a remote location devoid of said technology. For media broadcasts that refer to factions, anything may be said as long as it is not designed to be deliberately offensive or ruffle feathers OOC by negatively calling out specific PCs. Even lies can be spun as propaganda, and sometimes misinformation can be a powerful tool! Just be careful to not paint a target on your back...
  25. Darknet Battle Channels Rules and FAQ Welcome to the Darknet Battles forum, formerly the Battle Simulator. There have been some changes, so let's briefly cover how this forum works! What is this forum? This forum is a place for roleplay members to come and play almost any character in any combat scenario they wish. Anyone with access to the RP may post new topics here, either for a prearranged battle or as an open invite to whomever takes the offer. The caveat to all this: these battles are considered IC simulations played over the holonet, kind of like a game within a game. How does it work? It works just like normal battles in the main roleplay, typically following the dueling rules for that forum. However, as long as they agree, the participants have complete control to ignore or add new rules as they please. Battles also do not need to be judged by a roleplay Moderator, while they certainly can, any roleplay member can be designated as the judge if the participants agree. If an agreement cannot be reached, though, the rules default back to the ones listed and a roleplay Moderator will be called in to play referee. Please treat these topics as if they were normal roleplay threads by keeping OOC posts and comments in relevant OOC forums. All characters participating in battles here need a character sheet, and if the equipment you use here is different from an existing sheet, please make a temporary one or update the current sheet. Expect the topic to be locked at the conclusion of the battle. If someone wishes to use another person's character for a battle here, please obtain permission from the owner prior to posting. As for everything else, it's fair game! Dive in and have fun!
  26. Onderon was a place that Remo had never held the pleasure of visiting before. Even from space, Remo was mesmerized by its beauty and its hold upon its singular moon, Dxun. It was a lush jungle world filled with life and opportunities. But once he found himself upon its surface, he found it quite puzzling indeed. Despite its lush jungles, there was quite a chill to it, unlike other jungled worlds he had been to were humidity dropped from its many branches. The occupants of Onderon seemed unaffected, going about their daily lives in an almost utopic way, or at least from what he glimpsed here in Iziz. Yet, he couldn't quite shake this weird emotional response of uneasiness. It crept along his receptors like an invisible tendril, and had he been capable, his body would have mimicked the response of a fleshie, risen hair and all. Sticking close to Zalis, they continued on into the heart of Iziz. Zalis was unlike many of the fleshies he had met over the span of his existence, and in truth, he doubted he would ever meet another like her for the rest of it. And he wasnt quite sure why he was fond of her, but he did enjoy the way she played games with the minds of other fleshies and that she didnt seem to trust many, if not any, of them. So when she bent down to coyfully play her part, Remo smiled inside, playfully jolting her rear cheeks when she stood to finish off this Yordel and exposed herself to him. Who says a droid can't have a little fun? As Zalis continued her transaction, Remo gazed around, taking notice of a few bystanders and even the Twilek whom had just recently departed as he took in Onderon fully. It certainly had the potential that Zalis foresaw. But given the Sith presence, that was a large hurdle for even her to jump over. Turning back to her as she poised her question, all he could manage to muster in response was his usual bleeps and bloops as he went into hacking the Black Sun command lines. It wouldn't present much of a challenge for him to find out exactly what was going on at that very moment, but what presented the challenge was her imcapabilities of understanding what he was saying. "We really need a protocol droid..."
  27. As my conversation with Tros took place, there was something off about the man. His movements, his reactions, his words... they seemed to hint at a sadness within. It perplexed me, making my wonder in silence as to what troubled him, if anything troubled him at all and my mind wasn't just merely playing tricks upon me. It was a difficult thing to read, my sight completely different compared to how others saw the Galaxy, and was why I never mentioned it when Tros spoke and began to leave the cockpit. "Right." Was the only words that escaped my lips, placing my hand upon his own as it sat upon my shoulder, griping it with a firm shake before releasing it and turning to follow him to the others. Moving past Vrax and Tros as they conversed for a brief moment, I would join the others after retrieving my weapons from the main hold where I had spent much of my time earlier, the twin beskar blades once again adorning my back. I only wished Hati had been able to join us, feeling a sense of loss over my companion as i moved to rejoin the group. She needed to stay with the Fleet, and I needed to find my purpose. In time, we would be whole again. As the others drew their weapons to the ready after Tros revealed the plan, I unsheathed the twin blades, giving Tros a strong unwavering nod. Perhaps he was my purpose.
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