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No flinch could be seen as the droid's needle pierced the scared muscle tissue on Cal's shoulder. The Senator had grown used to the constant pain, but had never rid himself of asking why? Many years had passed since he had awoken, supposedly lost in an endless coma. He'd been told his Senate seat had been protected, but reviewing Republic law on his own he had never been able to justify any reason for such action.

 

Beyond the white room he could not remember anything. Nothing of his former business or political career, his wife, did I have kids, his childhood, my parents; all memories were lost.

 

The droid finished injecting the thick silvery soup, and pulled the thick needle out of Cal's arm, leaving a drop of blood to be wiped away and bandaged. The arm hung, numb from the thick liquid which now surged through the Senator's veins. It would gradually spread thoughout his body, leaving him a vegetable in his bed until arrival.

 

The Republic victory would make my victory harder, but we must learn to survive on our own. His eyes closed as the droid laid Cal's feeble body on a bed. Images--the same he endured during each of these treatments--would haunt the man until his eyes opened, rescuing him from his torture.

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Though his brow was furrowed, it was not due to the handling of the shuttle. It responded easily enough between his experienced hands. Responding to his commands, and yielding to his will.

 

No, it wans't his piloting that seemed to be taking up most of his concentration but, instead what he was trying to accomplish while piloting. As it stood, his 'passenger' was more or less left in the dark. He knew he needed to make a quick stop. Linking up with the other shuttle he had waiting, and then continue on the journey.

 

As he was still dressed as an employee, he decided to break the long silence that had come up between him and 'her'.

"We are going to need to switch shuttle. Security reasons. It is already prepped and ready and we are pulling along side it now."

 

A small bump was the only indication they had arrived on the small little asteroid hide out, where the other shuttle was indeed stocked and ready. Ready to move on to the next phase. Hefting the bag, most thought he had burned, he popped the boarding ramp. Waited a moment them opened the door. Giving time for a readjustment to the limited atmosphere the small complex still with held. The entire transfer would take mere moments, as long as the woman was willing.

Slicer.jpgMy sig is my profile...

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Ar-Pharazon, a Sith Master, bigger than any myth, larger than the most renowned legend, and smarter than any great thinker, was truly an evil man. He was a Renaissance man of evil. A Hellissance man. A SixSixSixissance man. He was infernally aided with the dark side of the Force, and thus he reflexively fired a huge silver gun, deflecting the whirling knife Jedi Strumpet Vega had flung in his sinful direction. The man was a murderer of sorts, a killer of life, a slayer of kings, and the judge, jury and executioner of everyone in his path. And now Vega was cornered before him, in the Court of Evil Opinion ”“ the Court of Lord Ar-Pharazon. Immediately, he countered her move, firing through the frail chair she was using for reluctant cover. With god-like aim, his bullet grazed her skull, knocking her forward violently, but only harming her in a minimal way. Immediately, Ar-Pharazon sprang forward, LIKE A DEMON, and grabbed her at her neck. With one foul pull, he ripped her head from its formerly corresponding body, leaving a spinal cord dangling in the most savage way possible, with blood and spinal fluid trickling about for all the Star Destroyer's crew to see.

 

”œFATALITY! FLAWLESS VICTORY,”

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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Zara left her quarters and made her way towards the cockpit to speak to the pilot, "Are we on schedule?" She slipped into the co-pilots chair, sitting back to close her eyes for a moment in thought. It had been stressful at the casino and she found she needed to get away for a while... like Brina had. She hadn't heard from her best friend and business partner since she went on her own quest. Nor had she heard from the twins. She mentally shrugged, knowing that they would be in touch when they were ready to be.

 

Right now, Zara just wanted to get to Corellia and oversea the latest shipment of alcohol for the Casino. It was a reason to escape the pressures there for a time, especially all that business with Slicer. She hadn't gotten any answers from the interrogations. At least this pilot seemed to know what he was doing, she didn't have to pilot the ship this time, she had just decided to catch a ride with the pilot already assigned for the trip.

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"We are, we are just attempting to confuse potential trouble."

 

 

As the move to the secondary shuttle was completed, he soon found himself playing with a small sphere, while allowing the autopilot to do its thing. He was for the most part avoiding the woman. As it was far easier to be prepared and ready, if he wasn't tied down with prattle and conversation.

 

The sack still lay next to him of course, as well as the creature that was denying him a connection to the force. Having left the creature in the nutrient dish before his capture, he had been forced to restock the thing the moment he came upon it once more.

 

With it sitting in its copilot seat, he continued to be hunched over the console, working on the small sphere, and subsequent device meant to go along with the sphere. Once it was finished, it would be far easier to keep all involved in line.

 

"There all finished."

 

He slipped the sphere, into the nutrient dish, with the force nullifying creature. Using it more or less to cover up the deadly explosive. With the remote detonator secured in his hand, he lifted up the pack and made his way to the secured back to visit the female.

 

"So we shall be stopping on Courscant. Given your high profile nature, I will need you to put this Yalsmari pack on. Don't need you attracting more attention."

 

He placed the pack near the door, and turned to return back to the cockpit. "Also you will be staying on the ship during the courscant stop over."

 

As far as I know.

 

Sealing the door behind him he returned to the cockpit to allow her to stew in her thoughts. The indicator light suddenly flashed on.

"Guess I was closer than I thought."

Slicer.jpgMy sig is my profile...

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A Skipray Blastboat jumped into a remote sector of space. After multiple jumps to through off pursuit, it orientated upon Kashyyyk. A dozen or so minutes later the ship entered the atmosphere and landed at one of the spaceports.

 

((OOC:Continued on Kashyyk. Your post Neruu.))

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"Fine" Zara murmured, returning to her room to rest a while. Her thoughts turned to her children. She knew Mellanie was safe at the Casino though she hadn't heard from the twins since they had left.

 

Just before her pilot came in, something twigged at her senses. She felt the numbing influence from the cylinder and moved further away from it for the time being, making sure she was still with the Force. She'd put it on under his advisement once they arrived. "No, we don't want more attention drawn. I'd still like to visit Kheldar vos Correlli before we leave Coruscant though."

 

Something niggled... the feeling coming on stronger...

 

Coruscant...

 

As the pilot turned and left her, Zara sank down onto a chair, her eyes closing.

 

The twins were in a strange looking speeder with their father and with their older brother. Ronin was driving, Julio was beside him in the front. Kane had a datapad in his hands, clutching it tightly. Kalyani was holding tight to the seat she was sitting on, fear on her face. Sirens blared, glimpses of law enforcement vehicles flashed in front and behind. A barrier in front of the speeder they were in... it speeding towards it, colliding with a police speeder...

 

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

 

Zara let out an anguished scream, launching upright in an instant.

 

"KANE! KALYANI! MY BABIES... NOOOO!!! RONIN I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!!!"

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It would take them several days to reach Bespin and Darla had chosen to take the time to prepare herself as best as she could. Leaving Gavin in the cockpit she made her wY to the ships hold.

 

She took off the armour that she had been wearing and left all of her many weapons except for her lightsaber. First of all Darla went through a few simple strength exercises. After a short time she felt exhausted and muscles burned form the exertion.

 

This body had never been through the rigorous training of her previous one. She'd been put through gruelling training by the Sith and later as a Jedi, she had pushed her body to it's limits.

 

This new clone body hadn't really seen any action. She was thinner, with very little muscle on her. Her stamina was nothing compared to what it used to be. Of course Darla could call on the Force to enhance her strength, but that wasn't something that she should rely on.

 

She had called on the Force to strengthen herself on Ilum, she knew she was capable of that. But making herself strong enough to fac Kakuto Ryu was something else entirely.

 

Halfway through a push-up, Darla fell flat on her stomach. For a while she lay there panting. There wasn't enough time for her to get into the shape she needed to be to face Kakuto. Darla wouldn't be able to rely on strengh, instead she would have to rely on her skills...

 

Darla hadn't used a lightsaber since she had been in this body. All she could do was hope that the memories of her previous life would serve her in this one.

 

Getting up off the floor and rising to her feet, Darla drew on the Force. She flushed the energy over her aching body and washed away the pain, filling herself with strength.

 

With a deep breath, Darla ignited her lightsaber. The violet blade snapped to life. Taking deep steady breaths Darla calmed herself and tried to centre herself in the Force. Closing her eyes and opening herself to the Force she began to move. Like a dancer she lept, swung and lunged. Fighting invisible foes she became a blur of flesh and light. Parry, thrust, leap, dodge. 

 

With the Force flowing through her, she was able to move with inhuman speed and grace. The Force was with her, it had not abbandoned her. 

 

After several minutes, Darla stopped, glad that she still remembered how to handle a lightsaber. But that was one very simple aspect of her old abilities. There were others that she wasn't sure if she would be able to tap into to.

 

If she opened herself to her darker powers, would she have control over them? What about healing and the lightside? Would she loose her connection to those things? 

 

There were so many questions and Darla simply didn't have te time to find answers to them all. 

 

Shutting off her lightsaber, Darla looked back to her armour. She was glad that she brought all the weapons that she had. With the doubt in her mind about her Force abilities, heavy weaponry was the only sure way to take down Kakuto.

 

The thought of it pit her on edge. Especially when she thought about her failure to stop him in the past. What made her think that she was up to it this time around? She was physically weaker, only just reconnected with the Force and only had partial memories from before her death. 

 

There were a lot of things that she did remember, but so much that was still hazy and unclear.

 

Darla decided to get some rest. She commed Gavin.

 

"Im going to rest up, wake me when we get to Bespin."

 

Although she tried, she couldn't keep the quaver out of her voice. Darla was nervous and exhausted and was feeling very ill prepared for the task at hand...

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Crosa Hoverich, once a great agent for the renowned Black Sun, blasted into space. He checked his coordinates, making sure he was at the precise meeting location he had arranged. For the last two years, Crosa had been wandering the galaxy, without a purpose.

 

For all he knew, his old friend and partner Delta73 had been killed, and along with him Crosa's ties to the galaxy. But now, a strange message had brought him back into the cold, harsh reality he once knew as home. Crosa sat back, remembering happier times. Back when he was a Vigo for the feared Black Sun, everything seemed to fit. It was then when Crosa believed that he knew it all, and that no force, whether spiritual or physical, could stand up to him. He was unstoppable--that is--until everything he knew was taken from him.

 

Black Sun had been slowly torn apart from the inside, similar to how cancer takes the life of it's victim. Crosa, like many others, was foolish enough to think he could bring back the criminal empire to it's original power, but he was mistaken. His one friend, Delta73, had gone missing and was assumed dead by many. Life had taken an unexpected turn for Crosa, so he decided to abandon it. Until now..

 

Crosa snapped out of his wandering thoughts. He had to focus. A disciplined mind was just one of the many skills he would have to reteach himself if he were to become the single most unstoppable force in the galaxy. Once again, Crosa checked his coordinates and continued to wait.

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Jates ship emerged from hyperspace in the darkness in-between the distant stars. This was the location both her and her father's friend Crosa had arranged to meet. She could see that he had already arrived. Jate sighed, Crosa had not been informed of her father's death, hopefully he wouldn't be too”¦..weepy”¦.or anything the last non clan member that she had told, was rather tearful over the ordeal. Jate had delt with his death in her own way but it was still hard for her. She barely knew him, he always sent back holos and stories and reports to her about how he killed so and so over Hurran Kal, or how he had slain a republic officer on a capital ship over Csilla.

 

Crosa knew her not, she gulped and opened a Comm channel.

 

”œGood day sir, I believe that you may have known my father, and though you probably did not know me or of me. I am Delta Seventy-Three's daughter.”

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Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

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Just as Crosa's mind started to wander once again, the sound of an ARC-170 coming out of hyperspace brought him back to reality. As he inspected the space craft from under his Neo-Crusader helmet, he couldn't help but notice that it looked exactly like Delta73's renowned ship. The more Crosa examined the ship, the more he was convinced that it was his old companions ARC. As he squinted his eyes, he could make out the old Mandolorian armor that Delta had so proudly sported during his reign as an agent of Black Sun. Crosa's mind went racing with questions..

 

Could Delta actually have returned? If so, why now? Why didn't he contact me before now? Is it really him, or an imposter? Can this even be possible? What about the rumor's of his death?

 

As the silence reigned over all other noises, Crosa's hopes grew higher and higher. His head was swarmed with possibilities. But just as quickly as his hopes were raised, they were smashed down as if by some invisible hammer, as he heard not Delta's voice, but a female's.

 

“Good day sir, I believe that you may have known my father, and though you probably did not know me or of me. I am Delta Seventy-Three’s daughter. My father served with you in Black Sun I believe, he told me that I could trust you with my life…before he died of cancer…I am sorry…”

 

Crosa's heart exploded with feelings that words could not discribe. His old comrad, partner, and friend had just died. Never in his wildest dreams would he think that Delta would die of something so insignificant like cancer. He has always thought his old bud would have gone out in a blaze of glory, as so many of his brothers did in the clone wars.

 

As the ship grew closer, so did the figure inside of it grow more clear. He could see her clearly now. She was rather young, probably mid-teens, with blazing red hair and hardly any resemblence to the warrior that Delta was. The only comparisions between the girl and Delta was her eyes. Those intense that belonged to many clones during the ancient clone wars, but were hardly ever revealed thanks to the secretive helmets of the Republic. While like her fathers, her eyes were still child-like. It was obvious that they hadn't truly seen the horror of war.. of sickness.. or of death. Crosa shed a tear under his protective mandolorian helmet, then sighed into the comm.

 

"Go home kid. You have no bussiness in that armor. Let your father rest peacefully instead of disgracing his armor.."

 

With that said, Crosa sat back, and waited for the kid's responce.

 

 

OOC: Sorry for the long post, trying to get some character devolopment involved.

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"Go home kid. You have no bussiness in that armor. Let your father rest peacefully instead of disgracing his armor.."

 

She knew it! Why didn't they believe in her!? She sighed and bowed her head, yet again she was a failure. A failure dishonoring her fathers armor, and his memory in this man's eyes. True, she had never killed anyone, but she had been trained to be an effective fighting weapon by her mother's clan on Concord Dawn. She buried her head in her hands. She would not cry, it would be disgraceful, and embarrassing to herself and her father's friend. She rubbed her palms against her eyes and pushed her bangs back again.

 

She looked at the dark gren helmet cradled in her lap. It was too large but comfortable. She saw herself reflected in the T-visor of the helmet. She couldn't be a disgrace, not to the mother and father that had loved and cared for her.

 

None of the others believed that she would be anything, to young they said, too small, too frail. She had worked her hardest against this. Ad now her she was alone without a friend in the void of space, talking to some strange man that she had never met or talked to before. A man like her father, strong and independent. She wanted nothing else but that. Perhaps this person would help her”¦or he might send her home to her clan that was no longer there, having left to serve as bounty hunters elsewhere the clan had slowly dwindled until the last finally left. Leaving her alone, until her father returned dying at last. He had fallen to a disease for which there was no cure on a backwater planet like Concord Dawn.

 

She had tried to care for him the best she could alone with no one to help, he finally passed and left again for another adventure on Manda.

She looked over at the other ship and spoke again,

 

”œSir, before you dismiss me so, please let me at least try to impress you”¦any way maybe we should meet at another place where I could give you the things my father left to you. Please there is nowhere else for me to go”¦”

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Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

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“Sir, before you dismiss me so, please let me at least try to impress you…any way maybe we should meet at another place where I could give you the things my father left to you. Please there is nowhere else for me to go…”

 

At the sight of the desperate girl, who seemed to still have strong feelings about her father's demise, Crosa's resolve melted like butter. She was simply a girl, wanting to make her deceased father proud of both her and her accomplishments. Who was Crosa to deny that? In fact, it seemed even more logical to help someone with that sort of passion for the job.. Crosa gave a second sigh as he realized that he did not want the daughter of a warrior to go home for her safety, but for his own self-pity. His self-exile had tought him to think of what only benefited himself or his preferences. Crosa decided that it would perhaps be best to see if in fact this daughter of Delta's had any true mando blood in her. He leaned over to speak into his comm once again.

 

"Okay kid, just send me over the coordinates and I'll hear what you've got to say. See you after the jump."

 

With that said, Crosa started preparing his ship for the leap into hyperspace. As he did so, he remembered the many battles him and his now dead friend went through so few years ago.. In particularly the Kal-Korans, where Crosa and Delta fought off the most (shall I say resourcful) of people. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to those two son of.. well, nevermind. Crosa prepared himself to recieve the coordinates..

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The ship came out of hyperspace in an empty region of space, James knew it would be best to plan and discuss their mission first before doing anything rash.

 

"So, what do you think we do first?" He asked in his most professional voice he could, he didn't want him thinking he was just a kid which he was but he had seen things that had aged him mentally.

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Okay kid, just send me over the coordinates and I'll hear what you've got to say. See you after the jump."

 

 

She was very relieved. What a miracle, she doubted this man wanted her as a tag-along or anything but who knows? Maybe they could work together and form the same sort of partnership Crosa and her father had formed. She doubted it though.

 

”œHow about Altyr 5?”

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Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

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Darla was alone in the dark. The floor was strewn with rubble and her nostrils were filled with the stench of burnt flesh.

 

My flesh...

 

She tried to move, but one of her legs was ruined. She could feel the shattered bone beneath her skin. Blood oozing from several points where it had ruptured her skin.

 

Where am I? What's happened to me?

 

She wanted to reach out to her shattered leg, try to asses the damage, but as she tried she realised that her right forearm was missing. Truncated at the elbow, a bloody, burnt stump. 

 

A lightsber wound? Who did this to me?

 

As she became more aware of her body and her surrounding she realised what a mess she was. Her jumpsuit was in tatters and her hair a grimy mess. Dust and blood adorned her. So much blood...

 

It's not all mine...

 

With that thought she realised that she was not alone. In the half-light if this murky crypt, there was another. His face was barely visible, a pale, ghostly whipser of a man.

 

Even now, he still looks beautiful...

 

That strong, handsome, yet utterly cruel face. Was a man that Darla had loved. Perhaps she still did.

 

This isn't real... A dream? No... This was real.

 

Darla had been aware of what had happened the last time she had faced her nemesis. But she had never lived the memory. Not like this. With smell, taste... All so real. Like it was happening all over again.

 

Darla began to weep softly.

 

This had been the very last time that she had seen Kakuto Ryu and she had been sure that he would kill her. But he hadn't.

 

"You are the last thing holding me to my accursed humanity, and for this, too, do I both Adore and Despise you."

 

At the time Darla had been sure that those would be the last words that she would ever hear.

 

 "Leave this place. Get as far away from this rock as you can... please."

 

Darla hadn't expected to hear that, not from him. Please, that one little word. It meant so much.

 

All the hideous wounds that had been inflicted on her during their ferocious battle had been to disable her, not destroy her. Kakuto Ryu had never wanted to kill her.

 

Darla wanted to reach out to him, but he was gone. Once again Darla was alone in the dark...

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A small E-Wing fighter, obviously battered, jumped through hyperspace to Haruun Kal. The pilot, a Ratataki female, sensed pain in the Force. Master Nadio was in trouble.

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(Delta73 did the sig)

Whoops. Is she underage?
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Gavin sat in the cockpit of his vessel meditating. The journey from Gala to Bespin required that the pair travel from nearly the Tingel Arm to the other side of the Outer Rim. With the knowledge of the coming battle Gavin had chosen to spend a majority of his time in meditation rather than nervous anticipation. He knew that Darla was making good use of the downtime as well, though she had chosen a different avenue.

 

Gavin respected what she was doing, and knew that she had good reason to do it, but he also knew that his skills weren't going to increase during the relatively short time that they were in hyperspace. At least not enough to make a difference against someone like Kakuto Ryu. Ryu had demonstrated on Ilum that his skills were far greater than those of Gavin and his apprentice but with Darla's help Gavin hoped that the monster could be brought down.

 

A sound from the control console awakened Gavin from his revelry. He sat up and leaned forward to begin making preparation for their exit from hyperspace. He touched a button that allowed him to send a message to Darla who was farther back in the ship.

 

"We should be coming out of hyperspace any minute. Whenever you're ready we can head towards Cloud City."

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"All that is nessacary for evil to succeed is for the good men to do nothing." -Lt. Roy Sanders

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With a start, Darla awoke. Gavin's voice was coming through the comm informing her that they had reached Bespin. 

 

It was just a dream...

 

No, it was more than a dream, it was a memory. One that Darla really wished she hadn't remembered. Kakuto Ryu had spared her. He had shown her compassion. That had been the last time that she had seen him.

 

So why was he, after all this time, setting up such an elaborate trap for her? Did he really mean to kill her this time or was the whole thing just to torment her?

 

Perhaps something had changed. Perhaps the small part of Kakuto that had been human was no longer there. Perhaps the small part of him that had cared for her was no more.

 

Darla hadn't changed. Not at her core. She had a new body and her Force abilities were tenuous, but deep down she was the same. Deep down she couldn't kill Ryu, could she?

 

If that part of him is gone, then he's not the man I knew anymore. Just a monster wearing his face.

 

She had killed monsters before. For some reason that has always been easy for her. Slaying a beast didn't have the same implications as killing a man, a person...

 

Someone I loved...

 

"I'll be ready in a few minutes..." Darla's voice was distant as she spoke to Gavin through the comm.

 

As she donned her armour, Darla tried to focus her mind and banish the doubt that her dream had filled her with.

 

((Continued in Bespin thread... ))

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"So, what do you think we do first?" James asked in his most professional voice.

 

"I think it'd be wise to begin our search where out target was last seen. That's the way I've always started my hunts, unless I had more to go on." Experience was an advantage Rodya possessed. James was young; his size, voice, and skin gave away his youth, but Rodya could tell there was more to the lad than met the eye.

 

"I know a few people we can speak with to possibly get a little more information and hopefully set us on the right path." A heavy T-6 Thunderer Blaster Pistol clanked against the galley table as Rodya put it down, having cleaned its barrel throughly. He picked up another weapon and went to work on it.

 

"We need to discuss our roles. I read up a little on you back at the station while you were working. From my own experience I can say I'll be more useful to you as a front man. When the time comes, I'll be the battering ram, the punching bag, whatever you wanna call it. I'll need your backup though. If you can slice any computer systems, provide covering fire, or create diversions I'd greatly appreciate it. Of course, I'd hope to get out of this hunt without facing a lot of action."

 

Rodya paused, "Sound like a plan? Let me know any suggestions you have."

 

((Post then take us to Gala. We're going to meet up with WJ there.))

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Crosa's A-Wing blasted through space at the speed of light, on his way to his first battle since... since far too long. As he waited to reach his destination, he prepped himself for the struggle ahead. Jedi were no easy bussiness, similar to Sith. However, the former had a sense of morals, which made them easier to deal with.

 

As Crosa sorted out his plans in his head, he cleaned his prized MP5 slug-thrower. This was his weapon of choice, besides his bare hands. It had seen many battles, and had witnessed many deaths. Throughout his defeats, Crosa had still managed to keep track of his gun. He treasured it as a Jedi would treasure his weapon of choice: the Lightsaber. He often thought about awarding it a name for it's many noble deeds, but neglected the thought. To give it a title would create an emotional attachment to the item, and even though the said connection would be small, relationships was the last thing he needed at the moment. Crosa realized that it was hardly the weapon he was talking about anymore, but rather Delta's daughter Jate. Though she was smart, strong headed, and perfect for the bounty hunter position she persued, Crosa didn't have the will to help her along her path. He could help guide her along her journey to becoming a true warrior, but to do that would be to create a relationship: the relationship of a teacher and his student. Crosa had the time, he had the experience, but he couldn't bring himself to take such thoughts seriously.

 

Erasing the thoughts from his head, Crosa continued clearning his MP5. He didn't need this sort of distraction, especially before such a battle. A battle which would not be easy, but hopefully succesful. Underneath his Neo-Crusader armor, Crosa hoped that his old connection at the Republic base was still reliable. Even after leaving Black Sun, or rather after it left him, Crosa mantianed his many contacts that he had made. While he never expected to get back into the bounty bussiness, he had hoped they would come in handy someday. Luckily, that day was now.

This is where the fun begins..

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A small starfighter cruised through the thick fog of space heading towards the luxorious planet of Coruscant.

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The only verdict is vengence; A vendetta, held in votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.

Sith Master and Loyal Servant To The Empire

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He looks out towards space wondering where they were heading. The ship seemed to be in decent shape appearance wise but he was still uneasy about being aboard a unfamiliar ship.

 

"So where exactly are we heading too? Plus this ship gets enough maintenance right?"

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James nodded as Rodya spoke, he didn't feel the need to speak and he didn't have much to contribute. He set course for Gala and when he hit the switch he watched as the stars stretched out into streaks of light before they rocketed forward at light speed. He didn't know what they were going to encounter on Gala but Rodya seemed to have a solid plan so he tried to relax for the time being.

 

(Going to Gala.)

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The gleaming luxury craft was speeding through space retracing its progress to Gala while, in his private lounge, Balhann enterained his medical droid, who he was physically connected to, and one of his most trusted confidants, an elderly Muun named Pors Hill.

 

"I don't understand, Pors," the senator said as colored liquids pumped noisely through clear tubes to GH-7, "He referred to me as a general several times, and he seemed to recognize me, yet I have never met the illustrious Onderin Starlisk."

 

Pors replied in a deep, steady voice, "Perhaps he was familar with your face from Holonet broadcasts. Plus, it is doubtful that the leader of the Republic Military would not know the names and faces of all his financers."

 

The Muun's words trickled into Balhann's ears easily calming the senator's concerns.

 

"Too true old friend. Still, something seemed different about that meeting. Regardless though, it has begun." Cal raised a glass of dark red liquor, "Here's to a prosperous, peaceful Republic."

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A small E-Wing fighter hurtled through hyperspace making several random jumps and backtracks.

 

At the helm of the fighter was a small astromech droid, plugging in the coordinates as they were fed to him through the heavily embedded and encrypted.

 

His young charge (of sorts) came out of her meditation, reaching for the controls and pressing (to her) a random series of buttons, garnering protests from the droid.

 

"Trust me Arseven," she said, taking her hand away from the navigation controls, "I think that I was supposed to do that, just let it play out and we'll see where it takes us."

 

The droid grumbled in protest, but mainly kept it to himself as the Miraluka girl slipped back into her meditative state.

 

The ship continued on its journey into the unknown.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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The Lenra slid through hyperspace at an alarming rate, faster then it would have been advised. Yoshiba had been away for a while, and it was time that the galaxy fell under his rule. His past endeavors had had failed, training under the sith was a waste of his time, they were weak, and only focused on killing the Jedi, his goal was to control the entire galaxy and lay waste to any who would stop him.

 

Yoshiba had been lost in deep meditation for nearly 4 years, lost in thought and concentration with the force. It was just recently that he had been awoken from his daze by a violent vibration in the force, calling to him to become one with the balance of the force, and claim what was rightfully his.

 

his course unknown until the force directed him to his destiny.

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