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Her face twisted again into a look of concern. With nimble fingers she opened one of the compartments at her belt and rustled through the ration packet slivers she kept until she found the right one. Keeping her bright eyes locked with his, she tore an edge from the packet and fished around for her mess kit with the other hand. She smiled sadly and walked the few strides so that she was beside him and with very little grace, flopped down beside him. The armour on her rear end absorbing the shock of the fall well enough that she didn't break her tailbone. 

 

She snapped out the folding plate and dumped the contents of the packet onto it, liberally sprinkling it with water from her nearly dry canteen, before stirring it with a finger to activate the crystals within. Over the course of thirty seconds a flat low chocolate flavored bread appeared. It was a dessert portion of a ration, but it was still delicious enough. 

 

She took a small corner of it before extending the plate to Durose. 

 

“Eat something. It will make you feel better.” 

 

She glanced down at the dirt at her boots, hoping it was a kind enough gesture to help.


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Ro felt like he was going crazy. Literally like he was losing his mind. He had gone from unusually apathetic only a few hours ago to melodramatically emotional to suddenly going insane. He could feel his hands and legs trembling, his stomach lurching as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like he was buried underneath the rubble on Coruscant again; as if some crumbling building component had made a nest on his chest. Only they were in a clearing. and it was just the two of them and the burnt Chandrila air.

Durose careened forward, catching himself with both hands. The woman had refused to leave him in peace but embarrassing himself in front of her was the least of his worries now. He couldn't breath. It felt like he was suffocating. Lost in a daze, Durose was still present but more of a helpless spectator than an actual participant. Reaching for the brownie she had offered, he snatch it off the plate and stuffed it down his throat. He gobbled it down so fast he almost choked.

 

Anything to escape this moment. This feeling. Help...

 

He had hoped eating something would somehow make him feel better but it had the opposite effect. The dizziness he initially felt was replaced by a violently disconcerting nausea. It was coming back up. He was panting with each short breath, trying to hold the food down. But it was. There was no stopping it.

Help. Help. Help, help, help.

He wrenched viciously. The uneasy terror he was experiencing from suddenly going absolutely insane was almost as unnerving as the sight and smell of the chunks of mucus-y poop-colored vomit that now decorated the ground in front of him. 

Help, help, help, help, HELP!
 

The shaking had only gotten worse. Was he dying? Had he come in contact with some sort of poisonous object without him knowing it? Was there some sort of biological contaminant lingering in the air? He wouldn't put it past these barbarians crusaders and their lust of murder and death.

Breath, breath, breath, breath!

 

His heart was racing. He was going to die. He was sure of it now. He was going to die and Rose was going to watch. 

Rose.

 

He closed his eyes and reached out his hand in the direction where she last was, waving it out hoping to grab hold on someone familiar. He didn't know what else to do. He felt faint and the trembling just wouldn't stop. Tears started to trickle down his face, mixing with the fur of his mane. A proud warrior reduced to a powerless child by some illogical and irrational sudden bout of fear! And yet, in these moments that fear was just as real as anything he had ever experienced in his short life, the massacre of Coruscant notwithstanding.

Come on. Come on, Ro. Please. Please!

But that was the real gist of it all. This was just one more piece of proof that he was a fraud. He was molded after a proud warrior but he was little more than a weak and frightened child in an overgrown Cathar's body. Those experiences and memories were not his. They were not earned and did not belong to him. 

Maybe this was where he would and should unceremoniously die. And maybe he deserved it.

I surrender. Take me then!

He had completely lost track of everything else around him. He had no idea if his hand had found Rose or if there was a comet of debris headed straight for him or if someone had even lit him on fire. His senses had betrayed him. He could only hear the ringing of his ears. His hands and body felt physically numb, almost as if someone had suddenly pressed a button and switched his exteroception off.


I can't stop you. Do it. I can't...

Unfortunately, it would seem that his olfactory senses were the one thing grounding him to this moral plane, the one sense that had chosen not to abandon him in his time of need. Of course, it was also the one sense he wish that had. Regurgitated food particles. Burning metal and electrical wiring. Chemical fumes. And then...

Something familiar. Focus on the familiar.

Durose squinted harder, while his eyes remained firmly shut. In what seemed like endless moments, he centered his mind on the one thing that still instilled a sense of pride, safety, and comfort.

Soo'Gah'Wae.

He could smell her, his Cathar senses allowing him to rather efficiently pick out different smells. Whether the wind had also decided to take time out of its busy schedule to prove useful, for once, in this endeavor was beyond him. All Ro knew was that he could pick out her scent and it helped him feel centered. It was the smell of battle. The one that held him as he faded. The one that saw to him being nursed back to health. The one who sought to teach him her ways. The one that had ultimately brought him here. And the one he had hiked this treacherous terrain with. Some might have called this response little more than a side effect of capture-bonding, but that didn't seem fair. She had earned her place of respect as far as Ro was concerned. He had nothing else left anyway. Just the blue haired little human and what little that was left of his self-dignity.
 

“Thank you Roar Roar. Sleep.”

The words began to played in his head on a loop as he relived those final moments and the sudden sense of relief he felt before losing consciousness. 

The relief. You are safe. She is here. Focus...

And then, all of the sudden, it was all over. The entire traumatic experience abruptly passed and the most terrifying few minutes of his life ended almost as quickly as they had overtaken him. Maybe focusing on Rose had helped or perhaps the feeling had simply run its course naturally. Regardless, the former Watcher of the Link now found himself able to finally breath normally again as his visual, tactile, and auditory sense all came flooding back to him.

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 Rose fumbled the plate of dessert and almost dumped it into the dirt as the Cathar gobbled it down then became affected by what could only appear to be a full blown panic attack. She shouted a curse, caught the plate, and setting it beside her, jumped forward to put her hands on his back. 

 

“There. Calm. Breathe.” 

 

She scooted forward so that she could hold up his massive frame while he shuddered like a leaf in a stiff wind. It had to be PTSD of sorts, and so she held him, as she kicked dust over his vomit to cover his shame. She held him until he recovered and helped him into a sitting position. This wasn't the first strong soldier she had seen effected like this. Was he truely that bothered about being a clone? She couldn't figure it out for the life of her. But she would wait, perhaps he would tell her. 

 

“Now my cooking can’t be that bad could it?” She let the joke slide off her lips to hide her concern. 


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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WHAT... THE...

 

As Ro slowly came out of his panicked daze, he found Rose at his side. Although he may not have openly admitted it, there was a definite sense of relief having her there. Helping him into a sitting position, Rose tried to lighten the mood while Durose took a few deep breaths.

 

“Now my cooking can’t be that bad could it?” 

 

“No,” Ro replied bluntly with a straight face. 

 

He was already on his way to his feet, in fact. In that moment he had decided to deal with this situation the only way that made sense: pretend like it never happened.

 

“Come, Rose. We have a transport to catch.”

 

Stepping around the ash covered vomit, Durose silently shuddered a little bit. Then he resumed walking in their original direction, not waiting to see whether Rose decided to follow or not.

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Oop! She snapped the plate back into its container and hauled herself to her feet. She nearly had to sprint to catch up with his long legged strides, but when she did she kept silent. She tapped her fingers on her blue helmet that was slung from her belt in a discordant rythm, he obviously was hiding something. But perhaps she could get him to talk too if she revealed more about herself. Her voice was hesitant as she spoke,

 

“I am a clone too. It was a contract, the Black Sun forcibly cloned me. I assume my old body and self died at some point. But I only have flash memories for what my old self knew at imprint point. I don’t know what happened to her, or what she was like.” 

 

She looked up at the sky again as they neared the starport. 

 

“You aren’t alone you know. Errr, you don't have to be alone.”

 

Her fingers translated her sentence, as she looked nervously at the lines of ships preparing for evacuation. 


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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“I am a clone too..."

 

Sincere shock splashed across his face for a split second before he resumed his suddenly stoic demeanor. He contemplated whether or not to engage her further on this.

How disappointing. Perhaps that is the source of our consonance. She is pleasing company because we are both just molds from the same soup masquerading as different creatures. But in reality, we are both broken and inferior replicas of our "parents." But I guess at least I got the chance to meet and somewhat know mine.

 

The clone shook his head in silence. A flood of negative thoughts rolled around in his mind like lapsing pockets of shadow on a partially cloudy but increasingly windy day.

 

Aren't we the pair! Poor girl.

 

“You aren’t alone you know. Errr, you don't have to be alone.”

 

Ro was only half listening at this point. As he more clearly began to see the shapes of the refuges ahead, Durose shifted into a work-style focus. The goal was to get them off the planet safely. And that was now his top priority. Maybe even his only priority.

Without warning, Ro's arm swung out to stop Rose in her tracks. Thankfully, instead of clotheslining her, he had aimed low enough to rest it against her breastplate instead. Turning to the woman in a rather serious manner, Ro looked her up and down before opening his mouth.

 

"We will have plenty of time to talk on the ride to the Jedi, I am sure. But we have a problem," Durose began, again looking her up and down as if to further emphasize her current attire. "If boarding one of these transports is your intention, I'm pretty confident you can't do so dressed like this. I thought you were taking us to some sort of private landing pad or something."

Durose sighed as he looked around to tactically survey their surroundings, "Here's the thing. That cavalier Mandalorian attitude may have worked on civilians on Coruscant, but you aren't the victors this time. And by now... well... I'd venture to guess that everyone knows it. Which means..."

Ro released his arm from in front of her before making a sweeping motion towards the lines of refugees in the distance, "Instead of one angry Cathar, there could be a mob of angry civilians, private security contractors, former soldiers, or who knows what looking for someone to take their frustrations out. They only just lost their homes, jobs, quality of life, and their world because of the Mandalorians! We shouldn't give them the chance to make that someone you, Rose."

Durose shrugged as he looked her up and down once more, "I guess the one beauty about not being an actual Mandalorian is that out of your armor no one is going to know your face or that you are anything more than another human."

Looking away now, Ro glared at the rows of people waiting to leave the planet. His eyes remained fixed on them as he added one last comment, realizing that he should probably stop monopolizing the conversation so much and allow for her to get more than a sentence or two in at this point.

"You know you aren't alone either. My word may not mean what it used to after Coruscant. But I'll fight for you just as hard, for what its worth... as long as you are willing to meet me half way and we approach things honorably... come what may..." Roshan concluded as his voice trailed off into the ambiance of freighter engines and burning buildings.

 

___

image.png.29644e7f68b35eb54943c9209e450e13.png

Edited by Durose Roshan

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**a barely encrypted broadband communication arrived for Rose, having been bounced over any public channel it could bounce on seeking out Rose’s assigned Black Sun comm code.

 

“Greeting Madam Cariadus. My benefactor requested that I reach out to you to request a private showcase of your talents the next time you visit the Outer Rim. He would be willing to pay handsomely.

 

As he says, my benefactor is quite handsome to gaze upon and his wealth knows no limits. He would be willing to pay you handsomely for the pleasures that you could transmit to him. 
 

If you are unable to come to the Rim, his excellency humbly requests a private holoviewing of you sent to this comm address. He will pay handsomely.

 

I have enclosed a snapshot of my benefactor as he awaits your response.”

 

At that moment, a still photograph of the inside of a rather cluttered and filthy moisture farmer’s hit played into view centered upon a rather confused looking Tusken Raider canting his head as he stared at the camera.

 

”We look forward to your response.

 

*This message was composed and sent by the Internal Secretarial System 3000, Version 11.5. Imperial Copyright # 1hskA4gFfDs51230k

 

At the bottom of the message flashed the comm code for the moisture farm on Tatooine and then the message ended. 


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https://wyvernfall.sarahah.com/

*Feldstar Gik is currently deceased. Please direct all messages to my alternate account: Frond

http://jedirp.net/forums/viewtopic.php?f=64&t=49276

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Rose scrunched up her face as they reached the tailings of the starport. Her blue eyes glanced up at the Cathar and she let out a heavy breath. The cathar was decidedly right, she couldn’t just waltz into the starport dressed like one of the invaders that had so violently ravaged the world. She ducked slightly into the alley, set down her helmet then began the arduous process of stripping off her armour and flight suit. First came the chest peice, it its long lamellar plates, then the shoulder pauldrons, arm pieces. Then came the armour that covered her torso, her gunbelt, legs armour and boots. She tossed each piece beside the helmet then unzipped the mandalorian flightsuit, stepped out of it then tossed it beside the discarded armour. She shivered a bit at the touch of air against her mostly bare flesh then grimaced at the feel of the duracrete under her bare feet. She adjusted the tight shorts and close fitting shirt that showed her midriff clearly. 

 

She reached down and pulled out the credit chit from her gunbelt, along with her vibroknife. She perched herself ontop of her helmet and examined her shoulder, which carried the mandalorian tattoo of the deathwatch. Her finger clicked the button on the hilts of the knife and the blade seemed to nearly go transparent with the vibrations. She bit her lip and with a deft cut, peeled the dyed skin away from her arm. She tossed it haphazardly into the back of the alley, and let the blood run down her arm as she stared at the buzzing knife. 

 

She sighed, letting the pain tinge at her so pleasantly, it would be so tempting to…

 

She shook herself out of her revery and tossed the knife into the duracrete wall where is buzzed to a halt, buried to its hilts in the man made stone. 

 

“We are all human or other species, the mandalorians were wiped out eons ago.” 

 

She smeared the blood a bit more convincingly on the side of her face, then bandaged herself up. She spoke some soft words in mando’a as she picked back up her helmet and pressed its forehead against hers. She flipped the discarded blaster around and placed the helmet upon its barrel, then took her datapad/comm unit from its pouch, checked it, grimaced, then stood. She shivered again against the wind as it whipped her short hair against the back of her neck as she stood straight and looked back at Durose.

 

“Well, there you have me. Not very impressive is it? Lets go eh?” 

 

And she walked towards the starport on her bare feet.


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Durose watched for a moment as she began to undress. However, as she started to unzip her flight suit, Durose quickly spun around and kept on the watch while giving her privacy. He could still hear the clattering of armor and rustling of clothing but he otherwise focused on making sure the coast was clear. His attention shifted back to Rose only when he heard the muffled groans of pain.

 

Alarmed, Ro looked back to see the woman flaying her arm. Roshan reached out to say something but it was already too late. He grimaced at the sight. In fact, he was so preoccupied what she had done to her arm that he wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed to look upon her now scantily clad figure. Truth be told, she was what would be expected for a human. They all had a general figure. Some of them had larger or smaller lumps here and there. Others hid their figures under rolls of gelatinous fat. But their basic structure, (the proportions of their bodies, the legs to torso ratios, where hair grew, the shape and position of their eyes relative to their mouths and noses, the way they smiled, the shape of their jaws and teeth, the shape and density of their muscles and where and how they formed) those things were all more or less predictable depending on whether their anatomy was male or female.

It was shocking that such a small little being could have beaten him. Of course, her armor gave her a plethora of advantages.

 

Still.

 

“We are all human or other species, the mandalorians were wiped out eons ago.” 

 

She was right. And that had been his point. But there was no use in belaboring it. He had meant it in almost a joking manner as if trying to use small talk to lighten the mood. But that wasn't necessarily a strong suit of his, and he knew as much.

 

“Well, there you have me. Not very impressive is it? Lets go eh?” 

 

Ro shrugged, "It's not the way I'd have imagined having you strip down in front of me. Your form is pretty, as is to be expect. But judging you was never my intention."

As she walked by, Durose grabbed her by the wrist and put out his other hand.

 

"Stop. Hold on a second."

 

Working his way out of his synthetic cloth shirt, Ro offered it forward.

 

"I know. It will look like an over-sized dress on you. But I can tell you are cold. Don't deny it. Humans have a tell," he smirks pointing to the funny little bumps on her skin.

 

Looking down at her feet, Ro added, "And between you and me, we both know this place isn't safe for you to be walking. Lots of sharp debris and rubble and who knows what. You are small enough. I can lift you up and carry you on my shoulders or I can hold you in my arms and carry you that way. And I don't want to hear it being beneath you or whatever. We both know you aren't a damsel in distress. But right now, the more sympathy we can draw and the less threatening you look the better. For all they know, I rescued you and you are a refugee just like everyone else."

Pointing back towards the discarded items, Ro adds, "And is there anything you want from that? I think I could play the weapons and knife off as mine. Considering the circumstances, they might let me keep um. I could even keep the helmet... play it off as a trophy from a Mandalorian I killed rescuing you... if you wanted a keepsake or something..."

 

___

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Edited by Durose Roshan

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Rose let a sly smile creep over her thin lips as she ran her fingers through her sweat filled hair. She looked him over from foot to head and then watched him take off his shirt. She accepted it and finding it fit more like a tent, tied it around herself like a cloak. 

 

“Which way would you have imagined me stripping down?” She waggled her blue eyebrows up and down, then made sure his shirt was fully engulfing her which cut out the majority of the wind. She smiled at him and nodded, then grabbed his stooped shoulder and pulled herself up so that she was perched on his shoulder like a parrot in one of the old pirate holofilms. She leaned against his giant head and adjusted herself so that she didn’t weigh him down too much. His fur was soft to the touch, and carried with it a distinct smell that made her smile. “You are right Durose, this is much better as long as I am not too heavy. Take anything you want from my equipment. It is dead to me.” 


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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“Which way would you have imagined me stripping down?”

 

Durose pauses for a second. 

 

"Um... I don't think I said anything of the sort," he muttered innocently with a shrug before clearing his throat a little and coughing. "But about that carry, slash, ride offer..."

 

The woman seemed to have made up her mind as she latched on to his shoulder and pulled herself up. To Ro's chagrin, however, it would seem that she had invented a 3rd position different from the ones specified. Instead of straddling his neck and distributing the weight evenly on both his shoulders, she had chosen to use his lone shoulder as a perch. Moving his arm upwards into a tipped over "V" shape, the over-sized Cathar clench his fingers around the side of her waist to make sure she was secure and didn't fall off.

 

“You are right Durose, this is much better as long as I am not too heavy. Take anything you want from my equipment. It is dead to me.” 

 

Truth be told, this was much worse. But at this particular moment he was more focused on maintaining his hold on her and how long he could keep this up. She was light, but not that light. Even a firemen's carry would have been preferable to this option. Deep down inside, Durose wanted to explain to her the fundamental difference between a riding around on his shoulder like a parrot and a pickpack ride.

But the differences shouldn't really need explaining. A pickpack "ride" meant the equal distribution of her body weight, not too dissimilar from a fireman's carry. More importantly, this shifted more of the pressure and weight to his legs, which took some of the strain off of his back and shoulders and made such carries much more sustainable over long distances or extended periods of time.

 

On the other hand, sitting on a singular shoulder forced that lone shoulder to sustain a significant amount of her overall body weight. What's more, the uneven distribution forced him to engage muscles in his back and core to counterbalance her. And that was outside of the fact that his arm would have to hold her in this bent position to make sure that she didn't fall off. In total, while she was obviously small and considerably light in comparison to his large frame, this "3rd position" she had concocted was a much less sustainable carrying position.

 

But instead of saying all that, the prideful Cathar shrugged with his free shoulder and announced, "Yuuupuh... Now hold on. I'm going to dip down for a moment."

Approaching the discarded helmet and blaster, Durose carefully bent at the knees. Then he reached out for the objects with his free hand. Fumbling around a little, he finally managed to scoop up both items and lodge the helmet underneath his armpit. For now, he decided he would have to hold the blaster in his hand. Groaning a little, Ro slowly rose back to his full stature and grinned.

 

"Well... don't mind if I do. You got to admit," he begin as his smirking face turned towards Rose. "I look a little more badass strolling in with a defeated Mandalorian helmet under my arm and a blaster in my hand. Not to mention a damsel on my shoulder."

 

He chuckles to himself a little as he adds, "It's the kind of stuff that starts legends."

And with that the former Watcher of the Link began his march towards the crowded mayhem that was the refugee spaceport. He hoped Rose had an idea of what they were going to do once they got there. It may have looked otherwise at the moment, but she was the one actually calling the shots. He was just along for the ride.
 

___

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Rose could tell by the twitching of the muscles buried by the light fur of his shoulders that the position she was taking was certainly not ‘alright.’ After entertaining the notion of allowing him to carry her in such an uncomfortable manner for the rest of the walk, she shifted so that her weight was squarely behind him, her legs straddling his neck. She rested her arms on his giant head and let the blissfulness of being carried like a child overcome her weariness. She avoided eye contact with most of the locals until they found a freighter captain who was overcharging for a ride out of the burning planet. 

 

She waved him down and when he acknowledged her gesture, she sprang off of Durose’s back and landed like a well trained gymnast, though dressed less...professionally. She decided to have fun with the role.

 

“How much is it for me and my…” She looked back and cocked a smile at the Cathar. “Master to come aboard off this rock?”

 

He leered down at the petite girl and looked up at Durose. 

 

“Forty thousand.” 

 

The number was absurd. Even as a bargaining position, he was a scammer, and a scammer of the destitute and refugees. Rose could feel a peaque of anger boil up inside her small frame. 

 

“And how much if you know…” 

 

She ran her hand down the large man’s chest armour and bit her lip. 

 

“A lot less.” 

 

She took his hand and gestured to the waiting boarding ramp. She winked back at Durose. 

 

“Then let’s get to it.” 

 

As soon as they had walked the two meters up the ramp, her grip tightened severely on his hand causing him to shout out in surprise. Then she twisted and tossed her hip against the side of his leg, throwing the man off balance, then she shoved again with one leg between his, causing him to fall in a heap and the ground. 

 

“Hey y-” 

 

But she was already on top of him in a single leap. Bringing her knee into his mouth with a sickening crunch. She winced as his shattered teeth bit into her kneeca, but it kept him silent enough as she buried her fist into the bridge of his nose. All the weight of her small frame behind the blow, his head smashing against the decking and the impact of the hit travelling wonderfully up her arm. She kept the blows up until she felt bits of skull dig into her knuckles. 

 

Then she stood in the pool of blood and called out in a cheery voice. The man had been a scumbag afterall. Plus, it felt so good to do it. 

 

“Alright Watcher, we have a ship. Time to go!” 

 

She strode into the cockpit, leaving a trail of bloody bare footprints of the white tiling of the deck. 


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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The "spaceport" was in a sorry state. There were way more refugees than ships and the crowds were restless. As the Cathar waded through the crowds, many among them clamored for food, assistance, or to be taken with him.

At least they are lucky enough to still be alive to make it off this planet. I know plenty on Coruscant that weren't afforded the same luxuries. Where were the Jedi then? And honestly, where are the Jedi now?!

 

Their notable absence rubbed him the wrong way. They had stopped the threat but was that really all they cared about?

Normal people be damned.

It seemed like such a half-baked job. Like someone who pulls you out of the lake and saves you from drowning in the dead of winter but then just leaves you there in your wet clothes without a blanket or a way home and wishes you luck.


While Rose had eased the strain on his shoulders by thankfully shifting positions, she was not done finding ways to hurt him. As they overheard one freighter captain offering rides off this world for outrageous prices, the woman steered Ro in that direction. Durose obliged. But when he changed course and approached the sleazy-looking smuggler type, he abruptly felt a shooting pain in his neck. The forceful blow was thanks to the unexpected privilege of having Rose use his body like her own personal jungle gym for dramatic effect. Granted, she might not have viewed it as forceful. And perhaps Durose was exaggerating a little. But he had no chance to brace for it and with him carrying her, his body was the only springboard she had available to her when making the attempt. Thanks to the physics of the situation, she had to push off of him sufficiently enough to perform her acrobat feat of vanity and that is exactly what she had done.

"A little warning would be nice...," Durose muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders.

As Rose approached the captain, refugees began to push in and beg the Cathar for help. Perhaps they figured that if the two could afford this captain's rates then they might have extra change to spare. Or perhaps it was the Mandalorian helmet that drew them. Or the intimidating but heroic stature that Roshan gave off just standing there. He preferred to think it was the latter. But regardless, with a crowd of people and a chorus of pleas hemming him in, Ro was having a much harder time hearing what exactly Rose and the man were saying. 

"How much-----------my master to-----off this rock?"
 

Durose could clearly read the captain's lips.

 

“Forty thousand.” 

 

“---------------if you know…” 

 

If Durose had one advantage over this crowd, it was his natural height. And thanks to that, he could very clearly see Rose's gesture. His eyes widened at the very thought. Had he been standing next to her he would have immediately yanked her away and told the captain they were done here. But he wasn't and this crowd of beggars seemed to keep pushing him farther and farther away from Rose like a current pulling one gradually out to sea.

 

“A lot less.”  

 

With the grin on the man's face and the way his lips moved, the reply was undeniable. And now Rose was taking his hand and winking at Durose as the captain motioned for him to follow as well! Anger mixed with horror as he watched them go.

How could she think that this is acceptable!?!? This is absolutely unacceptable!!! I'd rather steal a ship! I...

He cringed at the thought. But he had to admit that humans were different animals. To them, sex didn't hold the same sacred bond or spiritual nuance and meaning that it did to Cathar. Human males often spoke of their conquests with pride and woman in the lower levels of Coruscant regularly sold their "favors" for spare drinking and drug money. It was an aspect of humans that always grossed him out. Perhaps he had no right to cling to Cathar ideals when he was a clone, a knock-off of the real thing. But he believed in them. And the thought of Rose sleeping with that sleazy man made his stomach turn. At least with Victoria, Dhonarr would treat her right and with the respect she deserved.

As the pair began to disappear up the ramp, the former Watcher of the Link attempted to push through the crowd that has gathered around him. There was so much begging and grabbing and pleading.

"Take us with you!"
"Save us!"
"Help us!"
"Please! My daughter is trapped!"
"Spare us a little money!"
"Please don't leave us!"
"Please have mercy on us!"

At first Durose tried to be polite. He tried to push through them in a civilized manner. But Rose was disappearing and the thought of her prostituting herself out with the disgusting smuggler was making him feel nauseous. There wasn't enough time.

"Move!" he pushed at the crowd as it rocked back for a moment before "splashing" back in on him.

Fighting his blaster hand free, he raised it up in the air and fired two shots. The crowd suddenly grew quiet.

"Get out of my way unless you'd like to end up like this Mandalorian!" He growled as he raised the Mandalorian helmet into the air with his other hand.

 

Suddenly, fear filled the faces of the gathered thralls as his blaster parted the crowd like an outstretched staff parting the sea. Making haste, the feline-like humanoid dashed towards the ramp of the YT-2400 freighter, hoping to quickly retrace Rose's steps.


Of course, that was easier done than said. He could hear Rose's voice as it echoed through the corridor.

 

“Alright Watcher, we have a ship. Time to go!” 


Ro apprehensively moved further down the corridor knowing he'd find what he could already smell. Rose had left quite the mess. The mangled body of the smuggler lied quietly against the deck in a pool of blood. Durose was unsure if the man was dead or alive. He didn't care. This would mean new problems. He moved by him quickly and jogged to catch up with Rose's bloody trail of footprints. When he caught up, Ro found her grinning to herself in the cockpit.

Of course.

Durose was enraged. Pushing past her, he hit a few buttons. The freighter's ramp began to retract. He then turned around and glared back at Rose.

"Have you lost your mind, woman! I know you might have lived in make-believe Mandalorian land for possibly the entirety of your existence and this is how they do things," Durose began before taking a deep breath. "But your decision was absolutely reckless!"

Ro angrily pressed index finger against his temple repeatedly as he continued, "Why do you think a scumbag like that would so confidently take you, much less me, onto his ship?! Why do you think all these desperate people don't just rush the ship while its ramp is down?! The servo turrets were literally pointed at the crowd! He has backup! One gunner, if not two! Maybe even a full crew of three plus a passenger or two that may have been able to afford his outrageous prices by hook or by crook!"


Durose paused for a second as the realization of his own words hit him. He had a very bad feeling about this.

And now that I'm on board they'll probably come and check in on me to make sure there is no funny business with as imposing as I look.

Durose gave Rose an intense stare as he shoved the blaster against her chest to hand it off to her.

"Think. Was the captain guy wearing any weapons? I don't remember. I was too busy watching you try to casually proposition him," he added a little bitingly.

As she responded, Durose was already running full speed back down the corridor. Ro decided that his best bet now was dragging the smuggler's body back to the cockpit. Hopefully whatever goon or goons that might be on their way would cautiously follow the trail of blood into the cockpit. If the body was positioned correctly and their managed to stay hidden just right, Durose hoped that the discovery of the captain would be distracting enough to give Ro and Rose the split second they need to ambuscade the thug and down him before he can fire back.

If we are lucky, perhaps we will get a two for one. But the chances are that once shots are fired, whoever is left with be alerted to foul play and they will be a lot more cautious and harder to "smoke out."

As the Cathar began frantically dragging the captain's body back to the cockpit, he could already hear footsteps coming from the other direction. He could feel his muscle twitching as he prepared for a potential firefight. He had no idea if they'd get lucky and only have to deal with one thug or two or how many passengers or droids might be on board. It could be as few as two or as many as six or seven by his estimates. The Cathar momentarily sighed to himself.

I guess at least if there is one thing she's good it, it is shooting things and killing people.
 

___
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Rose shook her head as the realization of what had happened dawned on her. Durose was pissed, and frankly she didn’t know why. She typed a quick command on the console which started the ignition and countdown of the flight checklist, she slammed the automate button then spun the flight chair around 180 degrees and charged off after Durose. 

 

She had been very foolish, and now it would be a fight for their lives. SHe spotted him at the end of the corridor and dove towards the captain’s body, sliding beside the Cathar’s feet as she drug into the recently deceased pilot’s belt and pulled out the blaster pistol that had been stuck in its retention holster. She brought it in a snap up as three crew members rounded the corner calling out loudly that they had been boarded. They paused just a moment upon seeing the corpse, and Rose let fly a crimson bolt at one of the men’s heads as they returned fire enmass. 

 

A bolt burned through her kneecap as they beat a hasty retreat and she fell back in the puddle of the blood left by her kill. 

 

“Kriff it Im sorry Durose, I didn’t think. I never think.” 

 

She cursed, not at the pain, but her own stupidity.


HkWBH9i.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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So much for that plan.

Their company had arrived earlier than he had hoped. Truth be told, of all the ship designs, YT-2400s were one of his least favorites. YT-2400s were notorious for being wildly customizable. That made them somewhat unpredictable when boarding them for the first time. It could easily be arranged in any assortment of designs and have as many or as few rooms as the captain who bought it desired. A rather motley crew consisting of a Jawa, Wookiee, and Mon Calamari caught Durose by surprise as Rose managed to down the lead goon with a blaster shot. That left just the wookiee and the jawa.

Ro lifted up the dead captain's body to block the incoming fire as he saw Rose stumble to the ground. Durose grabbed and yanked her forcefully with his other hand as she slid across the slippery, bloody floor. Finally back within the cockpit area, Durose looked Rose over. By his estimates she had only been grazed so she would be fine, but the same couldn't be said of his shirt.

“Kriff it! I'm sorry, Durose... I didn’t think. I never think.” 

 

Ignoring her comment, Durose used the dead captain as a prop and poked the body's arm out past the cockpit doorway. A volley of two bolts immediately came screaming across the hallway. He could hear the jawa mumbling something in its native tongue. The wookiee seemed to be in agreement. That concerned Roshan. Who knew what they might try in this situation and Ro and Rose were sitting ducks. Hastily moving over to the console, he eyed Rose.

"Guard the door."

He then hit a series of buttons before pulling up a schematic of this particular model. He examined them carefully.
 

Spoiler

YT-2400_Sitemap.jpg

Rose had killed the captain just past their little galley side room before they had reached the Captain's quarters. The three other crewmen probably came from their quarters or the turret access area. It was unsurprising that they were able to get on top of them so fast considering this particular design. They were likely still peaking around the entrance to this main corridor (where Rose had already killed one of them) or they had advanced to the galley and were peaking around there. There was no telling what they might have in storage but these smugglers didn't look like the humanitarian types. 

 

Leaving the schematics up, Durose lifted the corpse up again and stuck it out ever so slightly. A single bolt whizzed by. To Ro, that was confirmation of what he had feared. The other one had probably left and was presumably grabbing something or someone. Looking back at Rose, he picked up her blaster and traded her for the pistol.

"Here. Take this. It's safer. I'm better with a pistol anyway. I'm going to see if I can get a better angle. Don't move."

Lifting up the dead captain as a body shield, Durose dashed out of the cockpit and cross the corridor towards the Escape pods. He fired wildly down the corridor as he did so. The captain's body managed to absorb the first two shots but the third one grazed Durose across the thigh. The Cathar growled as he cleared the opening and came to rest against the adjacent bulkhead. Whoever was shooting at him was definitely a decent shot. Pausing for a few seconds, he caught his breath and prepared to peak around the corner.


"Dink, donk, dink, tin, tin."

 

Before Durose could assess anything from his new position, the sound of a small object bouncing his way immediately caught his attention. He stopped dead in his tracks for a second or two.

They couldn't possibly be throwing a grenade at us inside a ship! That would be akin to mutual suicide... unless...

Suddenly, an unsettling hissing sound filled the air. Ro peaked around the corner to see a small smoke grenade filling the corridor with smoke. This tactic would likely remove the chances of their side shooting their opponents with any accuracy. But when you had a wookiee on your side, who needed blasters anyway?

 

As Ro's portion of the corridor began to fill with smoke, Durose could hear the reverberating roar of an enraged wookiee. Long, lumbering strides swiftly followed. He waited patiently as they got closer. Everything was happening so fast. He had only a few seconds to think and the plan that he came up with was shaky at best. But he decided that it was his best bet. At the very last moment, Ro slid the captain's body out into the hallway. There was a tripping sound and a stray bolt that cut through the smoke. It was followed by the sound of something sliding across the deck. This was his chance! Durose turned the corner with his pistol pointed at the ground. He coughed as he tried to see through the murky white vapors. But he had miscalculated his opponent.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of him and knocked his pistol from his grip. Then the other hand wrapped across his neck and forcefully pushed him all the way back until his head collided with the bulkhead. This Wookiee was strong. There was no doubt about it. The creature's arm was pinning him to the bulkhead while it roared and swung at him with it's free arm. Durose could make out the general location its head from the way its breath curled the smoke. But the only thing he could visually see were flying fists appearing and disappearing as if he were being attacked by the arm of a phantom apparition. The attacks were wild and Durose blocked valiantly but he was mostly occupied with getting this wookiee's hands off from around his throat.

In the distance, he heard the patter of little feet now walking in his direction. It had to be the jawa. And if he remained pinned like this, all the jawa had to do was casually walk up to him and shoot him in the chest. He guessed that that was likely their plan all along. And if he died here, Durose was sure that Rose was toast as well. Especially with that leg wound and no armor.

It's up to you now, Ro. Get yourself out of this! Focus!

Still struggling against the wookiee's grip with one arm, Ro absorbed a few nasty blows to the head as he shifted his weight and punched upward with all his remaining might. The bottom side of his palm caught the wookiee right in the elbow, hyper-extending it a little and forcing the creature to momentarily release his grip. Of course, this made the wookiee even more angry. Side stepping a few swings, Durose tried to adjust his positioning and back down the corridor leading towards the escape pods. After all, it looked like the smoke was a little less dense there and he figured that should give him a fighting chance.

Of course, his plan of retreat wasn't a terrible one in theory. But the sharp pain of getting tackled to the ground by an enraged wookiee made it seem much more half-baked in hindsight. Durose tried to fight back, struggling with the over-sized creature as they tussled on the ground. As he focused on each incoming blow, his heart rate and his breathing gradually slowed down. He could feel his Echani programming taking over. Waiting for the right moment, he used leverage to flip the wookiee over his head and off of his body.

So far, so good.

 

Quickly hopping to his feet, Durose staggered his feet, bending his knees and allowing his butt to sink smoothly down as he did. As the wookiee scrambled back to his feet, Durose twisted his torso and out stretched his hands forward in a staggered position. This change in stance and technique gave the wookiee a moment of pause before it resumed its onslaught. But Durose had calmed his heart by this time. With the proper foundation, he was now able to use his center of gravity to his advantage while dodging blows and staying on his feet. Even in this cramped corridor, the wookiee suddenly seemed incapable of landing his swings.

When you risk pain or death, that is where you will find true sacrifice or strength. When you risk pain or death for another, there is no truer test of your beliefs or strength.

Using his hips, Ro turned his body into his strikes as he pivoted to lend momentum to each blow. He seemed to suddenly get faster as he pivoted and counter pivoted, flowing from one strike to the next with an almost artistic fluidity. One-hand chops blurred into closed fist jabs as the Cathar bobbed and weaved while targeting the wookiee's joints and extended limbs. As soon as the raging brute was caught off balance, Durose unleashed a flurry of blows to weaken the beast and sent him tumbling towards the escape pod doors.


Ro casually returned to his fundamental Echani stance as he eyed the downed wookiee in front of them. The creature's eyes and movements spoke of immense sorrow. The captain had undoubtedly meant something to the creature. And likely the Mon Calamari, too. With every swing, Durose had come closer and closer to truly knowing his opponent, his action revealing the true nature of the being he faced. The wookiee was wild and impulsive but Durose sensed no evil. He was much like any other creature in the galaxy. Just someone trying to survive by whatever means necessary. And Rose had just murdered his friends in cold blood. There was no honor in killing this creature. It would not be just. And he had every right to want them dead.

Coming at Durose again, Ro used the motion and kinetic energy of the Wookiee's attack against him, redirecting the attack and sending the wookiee crashing to the ground. Then wasting no time, Durose pounced on the wookiee and locked him in a choke-hold. The Creature clawed at Durose, digging his claws into Durose's forearm. The pain was immense but the former Watcher of the Link calmed his mind and focuses on the wisps of smoke as they slowly began to dissipate. He refused to let go, determined to hold on until the panicked beast passed out.

 

As his mind began to wander a random conversation he and Victoria had before she left the Link, he was suddenly brought back to reality by signs of movement in front of him. Someone or something was coming. And in all the commotion of combat, Durose had been so locked in with the wookiee that he had tuned out everything else. Whether the Jawa was approaching about to kill him or Rose had survived or some sort of other outcome had taken place, Durose was completely in the dark at this point. He could only hope that whoever was approaching was friendly.

 

___
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Edited by Durose Roshan

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This was a foul play. She had certainly gotten herself and her friends killed again. 

 

Again? She knew it had happened before, the agent had said so. He had been so cruel then, so rough to her upon waking in that horrid chamber. She ha-

 

She shook her head to clear away the rotten memories that had likely been caused by a dump of adrenaline and pain from the leg wound. She risked a glance at the torn, corbon scored, and bleeding wound and rolled her eyes. Another curse at herself and at the sound of the blasterfite from aft. She pushed herself up, engaged the autopilot with a turn of a key that had already been inserted by the dead captain and as the ion engines fired them to pull them out of the gravity well as she scooted herself to the edge of the cockpit door. She quickly examined the blaster for a moment before forcing herself through the pain she charged at a hobble down the corridor out of the cockpit, looking for Durose, cradling the blaster in stiff hands made even stiffer from the wound which tore at her with every move. She could see Durose, perhaps finishing off the hulk of a wookiee and she was about to call out that she could help when another voice pierced the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. 

 

Utini!

 

The sound of the ratlike warcry turned her head just as everything went a brilliant white. 

 

The Jawa discharged his weapon twice. The first shot taking her in the side and the second one spanning into the ceiling as the recoil had knocked him off balance. She cursed as the firey pain ripped through her and she went down hard. Without even thinking or willing it to happen, the blaster in her hand returned a swath of fire. Unaimed mostly and she walked the stream of red bolts into the tottering form of the Jawa until the magazine howled its emptiness with a vibration and the gun lay smoking on her lap. 

 

Gods that hurt. But did it? 

 

She spared a look and cursed again, her pain turning to panic. The space below her meagre breasts were coated in black burning skin, and seeping brown, boiled blood. 

 

Kriff. 

 

She let the blaster fall to the floor and pulled herself up by the side of the wall. Strangely she didn't much notice the pain from the wound in her knee, other than how uncomfortable it made walking. Her brain interpreted it with her military training and gave her a very bad prognosis, but it would take a bit of time she knew for her body to recognize the reality. So she instead made her way to Durose. She hugged him, looking at the passed out wookiee under his hands. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Her voice was soft, and a trail of brown blood guttered between her teeth. 

 

“You did really well Durose. And here I got uh…” She looked down again and chuckled, blood running freely now from her mouth down her chin. Her voice broke emotionally as tears began to gush down her face. “I…” She shook her head and kind of collapsed beside him and his kill. “I Kriffed up.” She really had, she had taken him from those he loved, given him companionship, and now she was going to leave him. She didn't want to leave him. Not like this. 

 

Not again

 

Her hand grasped at the fur on his shoulder. Feeling its softness. So very soft. 

 

“I set the autopilot to Cathar. I…don't feel so good.” 

 

Her hand trembled as she set her head against his shoulder, wishing that she could apologize for making such a mess on him. But it hurt so much to talk. 


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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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The smoke was clearing as Ro felt the lurk of the ship. He found feel the body of the wookiee start to go limp as shots rang out on the ship. He tried to yell out to warn Rose but it was too late. In his struggle to defeat the wookiee he hand left her wide open. He had thought that she would be capable enough to fend for herself while he handled the true wookiee in the room but he had clearly thought wrong. He could feel the ship jump to hyperspace as he watched the life slowly slipping from Rose's eyes... ((TO SPACE))

 

___
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The trio of task forces of the Rebel Alliance emerged from Hyperspace with a thunder at the edges of the Gravity well that surrounded the Mandalorian held Agriworld of Chandrila. Aboard the Misericordia, Admiral Valiston Alekseyev an imperial knight and exorcist, turned to his Empress and bowed, the comms director giving the young woman who had once led the Imperial Remnant and now was a co leader of the Rebel Alliance a thumbs up. The broadcast from the flagship went to the entirety of the Mandalorian Fleet and the planet itself. 

 

“Mandalorian Ships, you are under orders to surrender immediately or die.” 

 

The lack of further communication from the scattered clan ships and their powering of lasers and shields was all the confirmation the Rebel Alliance needed. The comms director switched to the Rebel Alliance secured network and began broadcasting to the task forces under the command of  @Sgt. Slaughter and @Lendron Neldis

 

“Then a fight it will be. Remember to not let the starfighters tangle too long with the Basilisks, those are dangerous as hell close up. Good luck and may the force be with you.” 

 

The fighter screen of the Misericordia stretched out in a double line to screen the flagship as the turbolasers prepared to engage at long range.

 

_________________________

 

 

Quote

 

Taskforce Domination

Capital Group 

Imperial Star Destroyer II - Misericordia

Under command of Admiral Valiston Alekseyev - Imperial Knight

Equipment

Octuple Barbette Turbolasers (8)

Heavy Turbolaser Batteries (50) 

Heavy Turbolaser Cannons (50) 

Light Turbolaser Batteries (10)

AG-2G quad laser cannons (20)

 

Starfighter Screen attached to Misericordia

4 Squadrons of T-65XJ X-wing starfighters (48)

Blue - Captain Maria Andrepov 

Red - Lieutenant Chenan Kailestran

White - Lieutenant Talis Urona

Green - Lieutenant Hai Sadok

2 Squadrons of RZ-1 A-wing interceptors (24)

Lancer - Captain Hailee Darien 

Hussar - Lieutenant Kyle Hasron

 

Bombardier Force attached to Misericordia

4 Squadrons of J-983 ‘Javelin’ Fighter Bombers 

Templar - Captain Andre Asimon

Knight - Lieutenant Brynn Lians

Lion - Lieutenant Seth Mcsann

Strike - Lieutenant Cathryne Ilianovich

1 Squadron of GAT-24r Skipray Blastboats

Tau - Captain Callistra Henerbri

 

 


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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Co-Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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War....

 

Its scent was always the same. The smell of fire and carnage, the percussion of lives ended in misery, and the ever forward flight of pushing forward. Mythos stood at the forefront of his vessel, the two squads at the helm of a might filled Armada headed to liberate this world known as Chandrila, sitting in silence behind the Shistavanen as the newly established comrades gaze fell upon each other.

 

Death...

 

It was an inevitability they all faced each time they chose to step forward in the name of liberty and life, carefree in the views of their enemies, and standing tall in their convictions. But the fear still lingered the moments before touchdown, where in any given moment, fate could intervene and all would be taken from their control. As the thoughts crossed their minds, some gripped the barrels of their guns in anticipation while others prayed to their gods in silence that they would be seen through unscathed.

 

Battle...

 

It erupted all around them, their faith in those who stood with them flinching with every explosion as the vessel traced forward evermore, their enemies relentless in their own beliefs as ever warrior knew that in battle, luck was everything until the moment skill came into play. Mythos only gazed forward, watching the onslaught of Mandalorian Forces that drew to attack, the massive beast licking his chops in the moment and knowing full well that those behind him, like those aboard the bridges and within the starships, all flew one banner now, and what that singular individual banner meant for them all. A banner forged in blood, sweat, tears, and lives. It stood for everything they held dear to their hearts. And as their hearts beat to the drums of war, they were here to answer its call.

 

Silence....

 

It was the moment of landing, the moment of know what to expect but never what to expect. It was the moment before the boarding ramp lowered and the Armada stormed the beach heads in full might. It was the moment before a singular foot stepped upon the soil they were there liberate and cleanse of the darkness and corruption they were there to rid the world of in a singular fight. And it was the moment before a single life was lost upon it. Grabbing his gear and heading to the rear, Mythos stood ready in that moment, his massive paw angling for the ramp's release. He grinned massively as best he could, but it was more fearsome than welcoming as his paw slammed against the release and with a hiss, the boarding ramp began its descent. He would always lead the charge, his men ready in waiting, and as the first of many enemies came visible, his gun roared with its singular explosive destruction.

 

Chandrila... Help had arrived.


Mythos.png

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Battle klaxons sped the adrenaline of all on board as the Jedi fleet dropped out of hyperspace over Chandrila ready for a fight. Only a few of the men and women who were here in the Relief Force under Knight Sarna were among those in the fleet here today, but all were eager to liberate the planet and get justice against the Mandalorian marauders.

 

The mighty bulk of the Stalwart Guidance and its smaller escorts formed up and prepared to clear the space around Chandrila from the hostiles and send their hulks burning down to hell just as they had the innocents over Coruscant. It had taken longer than he had wanted, but the time was neigh to get vengeance. Fighters and bombers launched and began picking targets while their Ranger Gunships prepared to offer anti-fighter and bomber cover to the capital ships. They would clear out a path among the enemy ships to allow the landing force of thousands of soldiers to start the liberation of the surviving population centers. The escorting force would coordinate with the Misericordia cover it from any enemy fighters while the it and the Guidance cut through larger enemy ships with their more impressive firepower.


Character Sheet

 

Send all PM's to Travis.

 

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Pride. Honor. Harmony. Wrath. Brotherhood.
.
These five words defined the last remaining War Pack of Trandoshan Nudono. These words describe in a way every living vessel that was each soldier. They take Pride in their work and skill but share not their egos. They have Honor in both their fellow soldiers and the enemy, they show respect and are careful not to show weakness not underestimate their foe. Harmony, to show the humbleness and self enlightenment of the warrior, but not to cast away his fierceness nor his strength. Wrath to create fear in the minds of the enemy, to show them the sheer power of each strike, each swing of his blade to send his prey into the ground every time. 
.
However grim things have been, Brotherhood had always played its role amongst the kin between every pack of the tribe. The War Pack, trained to be the strongest, toughest sons of bitches as many outsiders put it. Never a day went by that the Nudono cherished each other, though some are agitated by others, they view each other as brothers raised and trained in life together. Every War Pack are strictly taught the necessities of tactics, swordsmanship, marksmanship, and team work. Never did they betrayed each other until one of the two twins exiled his better half, causing a great schism in the tribe. 
.
Never did brethren turn on each other but only a time when one grows greedy. When most of the tribe left, those that left died knowing they would, whether it was staying behind or trying to find a new home they took their chances and met their end. Now only eight lived, the last of a war pack. Through the thickness of their conflict these soldiers stuck together as brothers to greater or lesser extent, and they've all put their trust in each other and their Alpha. Now the Chieftain of the dying Nudono. 
.
Standing still, the tall and bulky soldiers of a transport that traveled swiftly onto the battlefield alongside a large number of others like it, along with them two squads of regular troops from Empire they served. One of these followed the same shuttle Mythos was on, and it carried the remnants of a once prosperous nation. Though silent, their Chieftain, Vox, could feel his heartbeat pounding not of fear but the sheer rage he felt toward the Black Cloaks who sought their deaths. Now they could bring the fight to their foes, a fight that would span until the promise from one Empire was made and the very nemesis lay dead at their feet.

Vox gave no speech, his men knew what their job was, they knew what the plan was since the debriefing. Reclaim the capital of Chandrila, eradicate those who opposed them. Any of the soldiers could die, the Shield Brothers, Krexis and Varsus, Chaox and Equinox, Romulus, even Vox knew the price of war. But they were all bred for it, with their bladed weapons ready for use and their armor and senses intact, the War Pack of the Nudono were ready for anything. 
.
The Chieftain had given orders to stay close and fight in an enclosed group, they couldn't risk losing even one soldier. As the shuttle made a thud it took a minute for the door to open. One of the shield brothers, Umbral, began to hit the bottom of his shield to the floor for every second. His other brother, Lumian, began the same as they harmonized with each other through the loud thudding of their shields. Krexis and Romulus soon joined by hitting their left fists against the right of their chests. Vox, Equinox and Chaox soon joined and quickly the loud noise filled the entire transport as their beats grew faster. Though the Imperial were confused, one of the Trandoshans shouted as this synchrony fired the Nudonos spirits, their hearts beating with rapid succession. As soon as the door opened, light poured in and immediately the first squad of troops charges outward. 
.
Already, the blood of two troopers dropped on the ground as laserfire zipped by, the squadrons moving headfirst into combat alongside the other units and Armada deployed. The War Pack was last to go and they rushed out of the transport, immediately the Shield Brothers raised their tower shields as the other five soldiers kept close to them, firing Puncture grenades and Spiker rounds at the foes. Vox took the lead of them as finally they have their vengeance for their people.

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“Damn these tiny viewports, how are you supposed to see?” Slaughter scowled through the field of hyperspace streaks in the last thirty seconds of their transit to Chandrila. His flag had been transferred to Kalidor. The Majestic-class Heavy Cruiser was a comparatively smaller warship than Fidelity, but of a more modern and hardened construction than the older MC90 chassis. Which was to say that the corridors were cramped and reinforced girders protruded through the decks; it boasted nothing in the way of creature comforts more extravagant than life support; the canopy of the bridge was flush with the super structure and afforded almost no visibility to the command crew.

 

“....that’s what sensors are for--” came a muttering from the crew pits, interrupted by a shout of “Fifteen seconds!” from the navigation station.

 

Slaughter took his position just as the streaks faded, to be replaced by the azure glow of Chandrila and the grey specks of the Mandalorian fleet. Not that the Rebel Admiral saw any of those--his eyes were flickering over a cloud of data from the armada’s sensors and the few surveillance satellites that were still transmitting to Rebel ships. There were a lot of Mandalorian ships in orbit. And a lot of fires planetside.

 

A faint growling began to issue from his throat. His hands went to the comlink and the cheap plastic crackled in complaint under his grip.

 

“Will flank planetside,” Slaughter responded to the Imperial Head of State. “Once we have orbital superiority, corvettes’ll provide support for our men on the ground. Let’s go.”

 

He replaced the wired comlink and missed its housing. As Slaughter began to issue his orders and Kalidor’s sublight engines flared up, the forgotten comlink began to swing back and forth. His squadron fanned out towards the flank and would place themselves between the Rebel fleet and Chandrila. The Heavy Cruiser’s complement of corvettes fanned out above and below the task force’s flag, only a short distance ahead of the bird-like Kalidor so its heavier guns could provide support. They would be needed for the liberation of Chandrila and couldn’t be lost to the Mandalorians.

 

And as usual, the task force’s A-Wings were only happy to race ahead of the formation, seemingly intent on engaging the basilisk droids all by themselves.

 

Taffy 82 (Asset Denial Task Force)

Spoiler

 

Kalidor

Shp Class: Majestic-class Heavy Crusier

Ship Length: 700 meters

Armaments (for flavor):

Heavy turbolaser cannons: 10

Ion cannons: 40

Laser Cannons: 20

Concussion missile tubes: 8

Tractor beam projectors: 4

Antimissile octets: 20

 

Incisor

Warrior-class Frigate

Armaments:

10 Turbolaser Cannons

8 Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

Antimissile Octets

 

Chir'daki

Warrior-class Frigate

Armaments:

10 Turbolaser Cannons

8 Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

Antimissile Octets

 

Strill

Warrior-class Frigate

Armaments:

10 Turbolaser Cannons

8 Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

Antimissile Octets


 

Bloodhound

DP20 Frigate (Corellian Gunship)

Armaments

8 Double Turbolaser Cannons

6 Quad Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

 

Lancet

DP20 Frigate (Corellian Gunship)

Armaments

8 Double Turbolaser Cannons

6 Quad Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

 

Elmo’s Fire

DP20 Frigate (Corellian Gunship)

Armaments

8 Double Turbolaser Cannons

6 Quad Laser Cannons

4 Concussion Missile Tubes

 

 


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“Shut off those alarms.” 

 

Admiral Valiston Alekseyev, sat in the chair designed for stalwart officers a hundred years before, overlooking the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer. The ensigns and officers of non human species, mixed with everyone’s non imperial dress uniforms gave the stark imperial design a strange incoherence. Alekseyev took a moment to rejoice that he was not aboard a Mon Calamari vessel with their consoles designed for flippers. In response to his request, the Bothan executive officer gave a crisp salute and turned to one of the stations in the command pit, barking a harsh order. Restoring the bridge to its relative silence, though the lights stayed their crimson colour, indicating for the entire ship that it was in battle stations. But even that was not very necessary, considering that the turbolaser crews were busy shuttling rounds up from the armoury, and preparing the first long distance strike from the barbettes.

 

The XO nodded his furry head and turned to Alekseyev. “Flight decks are cleared for engagement and cannons one through eight advise that they are prepared for ranging strike.” 

 

Alekseyev nodded. “Helmsman, engines to one third, put us on a direct line with the capital ship Fane of Swords. XO, when course is set, you may give the order to engage. Shields to double front.” 

 

The Star Destroyer was an angular ship, and most effective while directly facing an enemy vessel, able to bring all four angles of broadside to bear on a single target. The helmsman steadied the course and within moments the deck beneath everyone’s feet trembled as the great guns let loose a long barrage of green fire towards the first enemy vessel.

 

((All ground forces. @Vox and @Mythos the ground combat is up to you two to work out. With no opposing PCs this is your responsibility to take a realistic attack. Three posts or more to take the capital. You have several thousand opposing men and ground support. Interpret this as you will. Do not take heed of the post order for the fleet fight. Take your time and give em hell.))

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Co-Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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It was a fire fight....

 

Echoed by the large singular shot from his black powdered rifle as soon as his boot treaded upon Chandrilan soil, the balls of durasteel tearing through armor and flesh with disregard. Slinging the rifle across his back as his men fell in behind, Mythos caught a blaster rifle tossed his way and joined in the ensuing fray, crimson and emerald bolts crossing paths as the rest of the Armada began to slowly set down and more men poured from the angelic breasts that held the Rebel Alliance, a hailstorm of dust and rock erupting from their settling.

 

It was as if this was the defining moment of the Alliance, the moment where the final line had been crossed and judgement day had befell the Mandalorian forces. Echoes of hearts beating as one, vengeance filling their souls in memorial of Coruscant and after as they treaded forward in conviction. Mythos led the first assualt aimed at the capital city, the outskirts meant to be the beach head of it all, his aim true and his heart filled with sorrow. For several of their opposing numbers had grown, likely rose by those they came to save. Such was the way of the Mandalorian Crusaders... convert or die.

 

Alas, he understood their choice, but it was still a choice made, as as he lapped at his chops, staring down the barrel of his blaster, he made peace with each soul he released from bondage, from slavery in its purest form. Calming his breath and slowing his heart, he fired again, emerald bolts true to their targets. His gaze shifted briefly about, careful to discern friend from foe as he took aim toward another, and pulled again, releasing more. War he may have been newly appointed to, but fire fights he was not. Not just because of the world he came from, but because of the life he chose. Life was full of them, and his sorrow fell upon those who chose to stand against his cause.

 

Losses could be seen and felt on both sides, the Mandalorians giving as good as they got, something he had long came to expect and respect. But they held the might of the Zinthos Empire and Galactic Alliance in full, and together made the heart and soul of the Rebel Alliance, protectors of all basic rights and keepers of order. The fists of Good would always triumph over the clutches of evil, and Mythos knew this well. And so as they neared the capital, a wake of fallen comrades and enemies alike, Mythos knew the battle was won even before it began. As he shifted his gaze once more, however, the haunting memory of Dark Sun plagued his mind and sight briefly, causing the Shistavanen to lose sight of his task briefly and receive a blow to his thigh. Buckling down, he grimaced, landing one more blow across his back before someone took out the sharpshooter and drug him to cover despite his size.

 

Shaking his mind clear, Mythos focused. Now that they had reached the city, it was more imperative that he remained here and now than to let his curse become his downfall. Shoving the medic that rushed to his aid to the side, his glare shouted the words that followed. "Don't worry about me. I will heal."


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