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  1. "Leena's this way. Also, I’m your pilot” Ruin followed the female closely behind, glancing at Lok and giving him a scanning over, as if analyzing the man’s walk and facial expressions. “Tensions and Teeth? Or Exhaustions and Exceptions?” Fera didn’t seem to desire to translate the question that Ruin had placed forth, so it was up to the Jedi to draw his own conclusion at what Ruin meant. Finally, the group met the Jedi Healer. Ruin tilted his head when she introduced herself, as if a thousand questions were forming in the silicon brain of the terror droid. Fera even seemed intrigued as it moved from one of Ruin’s large shoulders to the other as if to get a better scan over the being in front of them. “You are quit the cute little buzz droid. Tell me friend, what is your primary designation?” Fera paused for a moment, then started into what seemed to be a memorized and recited introduction. “This semi-independent droid is designation B5-87, codename: RUIN. My designation is F5-18-1. Codename: FERA. You must be Healer Kill?” “Killer Healer.” Ruin stated plainly, head still slightly tilted. “But no weapon? Odd Healer. Jedi Healer? Odd for a Jedi. Still, looks like a Jedi. Two Jedi is good. Better than one. I like. Good for dealing with Sith.” After Leena talked, and the female named Mons mentioned her ship, Ruin’s attention turned towards Mons with pure intention. When she left, Ruin followed, not stating a word for the entire trip. Fera seemed to show a genuine confused expression, as much as a buzz droid could show. Between the glancings back to where the Leena and Lok were left behind and forward towards their captain, Fera’s buzzings turned to a low growl, and jumped off to crawl back to the group to ask his own questions. “Healer Kil, I must ask…” The Buzz droid started, its beepings and chirpings hopefully understood by someone in the area. “Where is it that we are traveling to? Why is this task so unofficial? Are we dealing with something more illicit like our previous mission? Because I believe there is a 45% chance Ruin will go renegade if this mission has nothing to do with the Sith.” Meanwhile, Ruin continued to follow Mons silently, not stealthing his footsteps at all but not stating a single word neither. His silence stopped however the ship became visible. Just as the Mons had said, the ship was a box-like looking vehicle with wings. A true Nu-class shuttle. “Fly and Fry” Ruin said as he stepped closer to the vehicle and placed a metal hand on a wing, creating a slight scratching noise as the palm slid over the metal slowly. “Fly and Fry. Crash and bash. Guns and gas and guts. Smoke and smash. Bad time, good ships.” Ruin looked at Captain Mons, and tilted his head. “Not white? Eh, still good. Fly good. Fly fast. You fly fast? I fly fast. Crash fast too. Flash and crash, heheh. You ever flash and crash?”
    3 points
  2. I heard the visitors before I saw them. The crunching of underbrush signaled them as foreign to this world as I was, but it was the natives that gave me my real warning. Each of them tensed a full second before I'd even picked up the sounds of the approaching pair, and I watched one warrior adjust his grip on his spear while "casually" leaning against a wall. These people had been through a lot, and I certainly wasn't about to blame them for being jumpy. When the two emerged, my eyes immediately locked onto the droid. I'd like to say it was threat assessment or something impressive sound like that, but honestly it was just a lot of droid. Definitely Baktoid design, but not a model I recognized. I racked my brain, calling up fuzzy images from old history books, but I couldn't remember any Trade Federation droid that had looked like it had been built around the skeleton of an abyssin bodybuilder. I briefly glanced and then did a double take at the very recognizable frame of the buzz droid with the big guy, and my breath caught for a second. You go through one bad job with a couple of those little chittering monsters crawling all over you with their saws whining will make anyone nervous. I've punched people who tell me they're "harmless". Or worse, "cute". The other one was a warrior. I could tell before his face even registered. The armor, the stride, the posture, all of it screamed veteran. Then I recognized the armor, and took a closer look. An Imperial Knight out here, working with the Jedi. Mix in the droid duo and myself, and this was turning into a pretty eclectic group. I stayed silent but kept my eyes steady as they approached. An accountant I'd once hunted who'd had a very impressive vocabulary (but not the common sense to not get caught embezzling company funds from his personal computer) had called me "phlegmatic", "laconic", and "taciturn". At the time I hadn't understood what those words meant. Echani don't talk much as a principle, and impromptu freighter crew families tend to teach a whole different kind of vocabulary. After I'd looked them up, I'd learned they were all just fancy ways of saying I don't talk much. And...I don't. Maybe Lady Tajara and the Echani way of life rubbed off on me more than I thought, but I always saw talking as kind of like fighting. You don't get points for fancy flourishes, or how fast you can flurry-punch the air before you get down to business. Its about getting the job done, and doing it right. If two words can do what 20 words can, then why waste your breath? Plus it helped sell the whole "stoic" thing, and branding is important in any commission business. I pulled out a cigarra and lit it up, taking a few puffs to steady myself before responding to the pair. "Leena's this way." I started walking away. "Also, I'm your pilot."
    3 points
  3. Felucia... It was a world that Lok hadn't been to since he left the Jedi Order and followed Master Kyrie into what was now known as the Imperial Knights. To step out of the transport behind Ruin and Fera upon his soil once again only antagonized his mixed feelings about working with the Jedi Order, and as he felt the pain of the world flow through him, he could only grimace at the Jedi's failings. In silence he wandered about, not straying too far from the two he was meant to watch over, but far enough that he could gather a feel for the world he last stepped upon as a Jedi Knight. He could see the world's pain as much as he could feel it. The injured wailed, the broken sat stagnant, and everything laid in ruin. In his heart sat sadness, for this world would take generations to recover even with their aid. But Felucia was not why he was here. Nor were it's citizens and misplaced refugees. No. It was the Jedi Healer they had came to support, and upon opening his mind and soul to the Force, he was quickly able to locate @Leena Kil. Her presence was subtle, yet powerful, a Master of her craft. But she was a Jedi, and he still held a disdained belief in their weakness. Not personally toward the Healer, for each had their own role to play, but in their reluctance to fight. In their inability to react, worlds like this one suffer. This was why he walked away from the Order with Kyrie and the others. And he didn't attempt to hide this fact in his emotional presence. "Ruin...Fera..." Lok spoke as he stepped beside the two droids, offering the young girl a brief nod in his arrival as he pointed out the fleeing guard. "I don't believe we will be requiring her assistance. Our ward shall know of our arrival momentarily."
    3 points
  4. The landing of the transport in the Felucian jungle was uneventful. The two droids exited the ship quietly, taking on a brunt of last minute stares before the ship closed itself up and left for other parts of the galaxy. Ruin glanced at the leaving ship once then turned his attention to the jungles around him. “Lots of guts. No guns.” Ruin commented. Fera seemed to nod at this. The people here were still repairing and rebuilding from the Sith attack. People were dismantling wrecked buildings. Soldiers were carrying wounded. Despite the time that had passed, healing for the planet was still needed. But contrary to the pain and destruction that could be seen, the planet was still very alive. “I suggest we find the healer named Kil and carry on with the…” Ruin didn’t listen. A sound had gotten his attention. The pounding of metal fists into wood and debris. Ruin stepped towards where the sound was coming from. Despite all of his weapons holstered, the people who could see the droid couldn’t help but imagine he was ready to attack something. Fera gave what sounded like a sigh and followed, crawling up to his usual shoulder mount. As part of allowing Ruin to become autonomous, he had to be allowed to choose his own path towards his own goals. All Fera could do was advise and guide, and hopefully protect. Ruin came to a stop. A short distance away, the source of the noise was visible. A young humanoid female, with cybernetic arms, was making short work of the debris before her with said arms. After a brief look, Ruin approached. A nearby soldier saw Ruin and went off to notify the people in charge, including the Jedi healer who was busy with the wounded. Ruin came to a stop before the female. Fera gave a few chirps and buzzings, in a cheap imitation of a cough. “Attention undisclosed female. This semi-independent droid is designation B5-87, codename: RUIN. My designation is F5-18-1. Codename: FERA. We are searching for…” “Killer healer. We are looking for a killer healer. And Sith. Got to kill Sith. You got good arms. Good to kill Sith.” At this, Ruin gave a nod towards the female’s arms." “Yes…” Fera continued. “We are looking for Healer Kill. Would you be able to assist us?”
    3 points
  5. Kirlocca found himself coming and going rather consistently through consciousness. Through the Force, he was able to sense out his padawans along with others. Namely Raven. He was fully unaware of how he got back into the presence of Raven and others within the Jedi Order again, let alone how they even got off the planet, yet here he was. He reached out to touch each mind of both Alleria and Johan, letting them know he was with them, as he was sure they would freak out suddenly being within a med ward. Sitting up, he almost immediately bumped his head on some light that hung over him. A droid nurse seemed to not notice, while the Twi'lek one did. "Yeah, I guess those lights do hang a bit low for Wookiees. You're injuries seemed fairly straight forward, unlike the Mandalorian woman with you. You may notice that your leg will go numb every so often. Whatever got you, I was unable to actually reverse most of the damage." Kirlocca threw is legs over the side of the operating table that he was on. His left leg did indeed have a slight numb feeling to it where the undead thing got him. With a slow nod, he stood up and put some weight on it. The pain level was very minimal at best. << I've had worse... Although I can't truly remember what it felt like. You did well with what transpired to me. >> The Jedi Master moved to get himself dressed in the clothing that he normally would wear around the Jedi Temple's of old. His own mind had a slight pain when he also thought of Tobias Vos and everything he went through. And I lost the lightsaber he let me borrow... He shook his head as he cast the thought aside. For now, he had far greater things that he needed to be prepared for and to deal with. The loss of material things wouldn't hold him down for the moment.
    2 points
  6. Lok watched the young lady before them, her posture and half met gaze speaking volumes about her where words mattered little. Her words were to the point and short, but her movements and actions lasting longer. She held experience, of this, Lok held no doubt. As she spoke and started her departure, Lok offered her the lead with an outstretched arm and quickly fell in line behind her. It seemed that fate had brought them to her and her part had yet played out. "Tensions and exhaustions..." Lok responded to Ruin as he broke his silence amidst their casual stride, his gaze steadily forward as they traversed the distance to the Jedi. "Felucia... It is a world I haven't sat foot on in many years, not since I left the Order behind." Lok briefly glances to Ruin and Fera. "Not exactly on good terms." Turning his gaze back forward, Lok let it drift across the tents and fields. The pain here echoed the Jedi's usual inaction and it still pained him to see it despite their newly appointed and active roles in the war that claimed many worlds like Felucia. He couldn't help but ponder the course of actions and reactions that could have saved those worlds if the Jedi had acted sooner and not dealt with the schism that led to his leaving. Perhaps the Sith would not have grown so powerful and held such a grasp of command upon the Galaxy. Perhaps Onderon.. Lok shook the thought from his mind as the group entered a medical hut, the clanking of the wooden door and the squeaking of it's hinges shouldering the announcement of their arrival. Shifting his gaze to the Mon Calamari, a sight rarely visited outside that of the Rebellion or Mon Cal due to their reservations about space faring, Lok simply nodded. He could see the tiredness and exhaustion that wore its self upon both the skin of her face and in her eyes, and her presence within the Force regarded it highly even as the sun shown it physically once outside. "A blade is only as good as the intentions of his wielder." Lok responded in course as she spoke to each and then in general. "Forgive my reservation, but we haven't been informed of much... only that we are to escort you. Can you elaborate slightly more? I don't want to walk into this blindly, especially if the Darkside is involved." After the events of Mon Cal, Lok had remained guarded against even his own emotions, the Darkness he brushed upon while there still lingering upon his mind. And with Outer Heaven, he felt the call to take life without remorse, especially where the Shistavanien had been concerned. It seemed the intentions and emotional composure of those around him was affecting his own, and Lok had pulled up a mental barrier to block such influences. With the missions as of late delving in the Dark Side, Lok had very little time to center himself against it's currents. Lok watched as Captain Mons and Ruin departed, his question hanging upon the wind as he awaited her answer. And it seemed that Fera held her own reservations, her questions similar to his own as the Droid returned and poised them, and sparking his own reservations about Ruin. He was beginning to actually like a droid, and Ruin's personality was a good fit with his own. But just as Ruin and Fera's mission was to escort and watch over Healer Kil, Lok's was to escort and watch over Ruin and Fera. If Ruin was to go rogue, Lok was ordered to stop him. And in his silence, Lok's facial expression revealed this. Biting the nail of his thumb, Lok looked to Fera.
    2 points
  7. My second meeting with the Jedi I'd be taking this journey with confirmed my initial impression, perhaps more so than the first time. This woman was Good, the capital kind. It was the kind of good you carve into the face of some hero's statue, the kind you put in a bedtime story because you don't believe it could really exist, the kind that doesn't feel like it should exist outside of a philosophy holobook. Which made it all the more wondrous when you realized it was the genuine article. I took another look around at the group around me. The bizarre (and probably violent) droid duo, the fierce Imperial Knight, the noble and kind Jedi...if this group wasn't the kind to get into some strange shenanigans, then my instincts were dead and buried. I could feel my lip twitch into a shadow of a smile. I liked shenanigans. I nodded at her cue, and took a long draw on my cigarra before answering. "Ship's 150 yards that way," I said, jerking my metal thumb over my shoulder and out the door. "Old Nu-class attack shuttle, but she's got new parts, so don't worry how she looks." I took another draw on the cigarra, finishing it off. Not wanting to leave burn marks in the hut (I'm not a total boor), I put it out between my prosthetic fingers, crumbling it into black soot that I flicked into one of my coat pockets. I turned back to the Jedi. "I'll go prep the nav. Takeoff on your say boss." I walked out of the hut and started hiking back towards the ship. If I had to be honest, I'll admit I was a bit excited. This was exactly the strange kind of nonsense I'd needed.
    2 points
  8. The Mon Cal worked tirelessly. The force rippled in the air with the power that radiated about the room. Wounds knitted themselves shut beneath her hands, purged of infection and disease. Throughout the ward and beyond, the tingle of life bloomed and grew. It best back the darkness of unwarranted suffering and death. Through it all, Leena’s light melodic hum carried as she and healers and medics worked with force-imbued vigor. As the wooden door creaked on it’s hinges at the arrival of the eclectic group, Leena’s eyes were drawn to their arrival. Nodding to Zeris and company, Leena finished tying off the bandage she was working on before turning to walk towards the others. Grabbing a clean rag, she wiped her hands clean, her white robes flecked with blood still. A worn smile crossed Leena’s face. The constant work and plaguing dreams had taken their toll on her. At last, they would be off looking for answers. Visages of darkness played at the back of her mind. Thoughts of the mysteriously shrouded dark world, monsters, Sith emblems, what did it all mean? Why was she being called to them? What was this world and what was the force summoning her there for? ”Captain Mons,” Leena bowed slightly in greeting to the cybernetic warrior, “You have already been of great service here, but I believe the time of our departure is upon us. Thank you.” Turning to Lok Skyshatter and Ruin & Fera, Leena looked them over with a glance. One was an Imperial Knight; not what she had expected when she had reached out to her intelligence associate, but not a total surprise either. “Welcome Knight. I am glad to have your blade by my side.” Turning her gaze to the duo of droids, she scratched her head. They were more what she had expected; but still, she was intrigued by them. “You are quit the cute little buzzdroid,” she complemented with a smile, knowing full well each droid probably possessed the ability to destroy the entire village. “Tell me friend, what is your primary designation?” Gesturing for the group to step out of the ward into the village clearing, she pulled the door behind her. “I am glad you are all here. Too much time has elapsed already. There is much to discuss. I do not know what you have been told already. Even I do not have all the answers, all I know is that we are traveling to a world of darkness, unnatural evil wrought by the Sith in some way. If you have any pressing questions, ask them now; otherwise, let us gather what supplies we need and meet with Captain Mons and her ship.” Leena turned to Zeris with a gesture, allowing her to give details of her ship and where to go.
    2 points
  9. “Shen-Cresh two, my dear. We won’t need to go far.” A sense of amusement about Misal suggested that the veteran operator was lying through her teeth. Indeed, the moment that the turbolift jolted in its descent with a recoil, a faint ripple tremulated through The Force and the Miraluka took a deep breath. Her arm withdrew from Master Sarna’s and her wrist shot forward, revealing a small dataspike from the sleeve of her black robe that she jammed into the turbolift’s controls with a firm thrust. Letting out a little sigh of satisfaction, Misal continued more calmly, understanding that the turbolift’s holocam had just been subverted. Indeed, the service lift was continuing to descend--quite a bit further down into Nar Shaddaa’s bowels than the neglected subcellar levels of the Rebel Alliance’s headquarters. “I have personally found that secrets and shame are inherently erosive to relationships… and to a person’s character. These elements are unfortunately replete in a military organization. The only counter is intimacy. Not the diverting variety,” there was another wry smile from the aged Miraluka. “But the kind that only develops with years of active acceptance and hard work. Bearing your own faults to a person that can wound you deeply and trusting in their kindness. Understanding and accepting when they inevitably err. Learning their character so deeply that you sometimes know how they will respond.” “Of course, maintaining that kind of intimacy can be rather difficult when the subject is behind bars. Stealing personnel files will have to suffice in this instance. I understand if you lack the appetite for this kind of work.” Indeed, at that moment, the turbolift’s doors opened to reveal a dank tunnel system that ran far beneath the Red and Black. Misal’s nostrils closed instinctively at the familiar reek of mildew, ancient duracrete, and the effluent of unnameable species. Wherever the two Force-Sensitive women were, they were far beneath the foundations of the Rebel Alliance’s headquarters, down in the depths of Nar Shaddaa that had been abandoned and sealed away centuries ago. Few civilized creatures were purported to venture down to these levels, and the scarce sapients who found use for them invariably wished for their business to remain undetected by lawful authorities.
    2 points
  10. Solus nodded at this praise and reached out with his working arm to retrieve the vial. It was about time that his master recognised Solus’ abilities, and the fact that Akheron had given his talents a name was enough to make him slightly giddy. Assassin. What a word. What a lovely word. Solus mused to himself as he slowly stood up. One smart linnorm saw the struggle of solus moving his near broken motors and gears and decided to hell with the comments from the shard and helped him up. Soon Solus stood before the corpse of the necromancer. An air of uneasiness emanated from the shell of a being. Death had not fully claimed the being. Akheron had said as much. Solus didn't feel like he had truly succeeded. Perhaps this would help him feel some accomplishment? Extracting the blood was easy enough. Solus merely grabbed the smashed head and dribbled a mixture of darkness blood and Grey brain fluids into the vial until it was overflowing. Solus smirked to himself, wondering if the necromancer could feel his head being used this way. If so, then the necromancer should be enraged, as Tear was going to consume the body after the Shard was done with it. Afterwards, Solus, with the help of the Linnorm, made his way back to stitch-mouth. The alchemist had fully recovered himself from their training session and was busy preparing for the upcoming task. Stitch-Mouth gestured to a make-shift seat of rubble. Solus stumbled and sat down. Without waiting for permission, the alchemist started his tedious work by suddenly, and unceremoniously ripping off the broken arm. Solus groaned slightly, but didn’t notice too much as his mechanic got to work extracting the broken motor and replacing with a new one. Unlike Faleen, the entire ordeal was irreverent. Stitch-mouth occasionally used the force to modify some parts or to help weld some metal together, but the appearance of tools and other, less trained hands showed that this was just a job and not something special. Still, it wasn’t painful. When the alchemist began to work on a part, he cut off some of the circuits in the area like a well trained doctor giving morphine to a patient. The bedside manner was completely absent, but it gave time for Solus to think and speak to himself. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion” Solus started, staring into the impossible geometries. The shapes that moved about him were still strange and fascinating, but the clouds of red anger and the energetic lines of envy. He smirked slightly to himself, and watched the cloud slowly thin out and get replaced by a more green aura, albeit thinner than a wisp. A slight gaze towards Stitch-mouth revealed a deluge of colors, some never seen before to mortal eyes. "Through passion I gain strength. And through strength I gain power" Solus mused and nodded. These lines were getting easier to understand. In his battle with Inmortos, Solus felt more attuned with the force when he was enraged and jealous. When he was passionate, he could do more, and make the force do his will. For someone like his master, being passionate was as simple as breathing, and thus strength came naturally to them. Time. That’s what Solus needed. Time to focus on his emotions. To build on that emotion that Lady Sirena taught him so long ago. “The force shall free me” Solus nodded to himself. This much was true. Stitch-Mouth grunted for the shard’s attention. The arm was complete. Solus took a glance over it and was truly surprised. It looked more like the skeletal surrounding of the arm than the actual arm. It looked less life-like and more robotic. There were some fine improvements, like an extra thumb and a double-jointed elbow. Wires were wound and spun together between the bars of the frame like shoulder and biceps, looking like veins around bones. Solus couldn’t help but admire how his hand looked like a skeletal one. A fitting attachment after killing a necromancer. Solus then noticed that at the wrist joints, there was a familiar attachment. “My scomp-link!” Solus exclaimed. Without waiting for permission, Solus activated his newly furnished arm and flexed it. True to its appearance, it felt lighter and, for lack of a better term, bony. The scomp link extended and receded over and over, like a new muscle being tested. His previous scomp had been torn off during his first fight on Korriban. Solus knew that this device would have future use as an Assassin. “Come then!” Solus stood up suddenly, gripping his new hand into a fist. “It’s time to tell my master my interpretation! Ha ha! Yes! Come Linnorms! With me! You too my beloved mechanic!” With that, Solus made his way to where Akheron and Tros were beginning their own training, rehearsing to himself what he would say. Stitch-Mouth followed alongside, carrying the discarded arm pieces from the fix-job. “The meaning of the sith code…the meaning is..hmm… passion. My passion, my raw emotions, my very being, gives me my strength. I am my strength. Restrictions on myself restrict my passion, and thus, my power. I do what I want, and what I need to do, and damn the consequences, for only I can give myself the freedom I desire. Yes, that’s good. Restrictions limit power. To be unrestrained is to be powerful. That is what that necromancer did say after all. My imagination must not be restrained, nor my anger and envy. Haha, yes this will do nicely. Can someone record that? Yes, Akheron will be pleased…”
    2 points
  11. Akheron listened as Tros made a request, one he was happy to oblige. He both respected and admired the Mandalorian ways, as such a rare opportunity to learn from a true Mandalorian and add to his already considerable skillet was more than welcomed. Indeed there was much they could learn about each other from co-operation like this. Looking at the weapon and feeling the man in the force, his choice was made. Bowing his head in respect he spoke. "You do me much honour by asking and in proposing such a generous offer. I would be honoured to learn the Mandalorian ways and teach you. Long have I admired your people's fighting prowess, to learn such would be most appreciated and a gift I can only repay in kind. I would not only teach you of melee training as is your desire but I would repay such a offer with that of additionally proposing to teach you the secretive martial arts of my own people. A gift for a gift." Moments after and Akheron observed his apprentice, Solus had somewhat accomplished what he had set out to do. He only hoped he learnt the lesson being taught. As he noted the body, he knew the performances would return soon enough, even if he had left a husk here. Looking to Solus, Akheron nodded with tacid approval. "You have done we'll my apprentice, and yes while you have regained some respect for this accomplishment....do not be too overconfident in your success. No doubt, Darth Inmortos shall return, such is his way. For a Sith Necromancer has a special relationship with the Darkness and the Fanged God. One that allows them to return and achieve a state of quasi-immortality but at great cost to themselves. As you have seen. That said your performance was admirable for your part. You show promise as one with the shadows...that of the Assassin. And you have broken your second chain by using your own Strength to claim a Victory. Now take this vial, claim some blood from the body of your fallen foe. You shall use it to help create your lightsaber crystal. One attuned only to you and in part bonded with you. A crystal worthy of a Sith. We shall begin as soon as you are repaired, use the opportunity to make adjustments as necessary, to one suited to your newfound skills. Go see Stitch-Mouth for this. As you see Stitch-Mouth contemplate the Sith Code. Think upon it, look inwards and ponder what the words mean to you. Return to me with your interpretion. Then we shall find a wound upon this planet and you shall begin the ritual of your saber making." Moments after and Akheron found his comlink chimming, checking it, he found the message: It appeared that Akheron's words as rung true. It had not taken long for Darth Inmortos to return, albeit now he was on the other side of the galaxy. The strange festival mentioned in the communication sounded intriguing. He decided he would partake, out of curiosity but also with caution. He sent a reply informing the lizard man to inform his master that he would be coming soon.
    2 points
  12. “There is no need to atone for an honorable kill, besides the Jedi have always been skittish prey, likely to pick up everything and scatter to the wind whenever they get the slightest sense that someone might have found one of their secret clubhouses. We are participants in a war eternal, and in such matters one can only find victory and purpose within, for no matter how many victories we achieve, there will always be more battles to come. That being said, I am not the Spider, and the fruits of the labor of our intelligence operatives will be clutched to my breast less jealously as we move forward. Speaking of which, I do not know who knows what about that situation, but the Spider has vanished completely. I do not know whether or not he meant to disappear or if he ran afoul of the abyss that he had begun experimenting with, but before he ghosted us he gave me his lightsaber in a way that I assumed was a passing of the torch. It is not our way to transfer power in such a manner, so I have been traveling to each gathering of Sith and offering the opportunity to challenge me, so that we may continue our path under the rule of the strongest. If any here wish to challenge my claim to the title of Dark Lord, now is the time to do so.” On the one hand, warriors of this sort would be the most likely to bristle at the idea of someone ascending the throne without trial by combat, but on the other hand the least likely to be driven by petty politics and ambition. Krath Umbra gave the impression of a Sith that had adapted to a very specific niche within the Empire, more interested in moving chess pieces on a specific board than running the entire show. She hated that she had to do this to begin with, and maybe that is why the Spider did it in the first place, sadistically gifting the title to the warrior who believed in earning everything. The former Dark Lord hadn’t seemed the type for pettiness when she had met him in the past, but here they were. Or perhaps in his own alien way of thinking he thought that he was honoring her devotion to the cause. So many questions left unanswered.
    2 points
  13. Leena walked along beside the Knight, ignoring his recoil at her touch. Whatever plagued the man was deeper than a surface revulsion if she, her position, or her order. She regarded the man for a moment before falling back into step with him as they walked. She listened as he spoke. A smile tugged at the corners of her weary face. She did not understand the bleeping droid, unsure if it was angry or joyful as it careened through the underbrush. She took that it could not be too bad. The bot was following them after all. After Lok finished speaking, Leena turned his words over in her mind. It was true, they were going in blind as it were; as blind as one might be, “In the force, one is never truly blind my brother. These friends of mine have saved my life a thousand times over. They have never steered me wrong before. Just as I am a Jedi and you a Knight of the Empress, there are many paths of life. One is not better than the other so long as they follow the truth and do not seek to edify selfish ambitions. We do not know how those paths will journey; but we all put our trust in something greater.” As they rounded a bend in the path, the gunship came into view as a band of Felucian warriors turned and scurried into the brush, vanishing as if they never were. Even in the force their presence was clouded by the living world, the force around them. Pausing, Leena turned to face Lok. She looked him in the eye. “I know your Empress. She and I trained together when I was but a Padawan. She is a good woman. I would trust that anyone who followed her had a purity of heart worthy of such an appointment. I also know the Admiral that sent you to me. He comes from yet another path; raised among the Mandalorians, dedicated to spy craft and war. He carries a goodness of will and steel character that carries his spirit towards the light of truth.” “You seem troubled though, Sir Knight. Where we are going, I sense a strange rippling darkness that consumes all it touches. What it is, I do not know. I do not even know how to get there. For that, I am trusting our pilot, one who is not in the orders of you or I; but who is here under my invitation. I am trusting the force to guide us. What happens will happen. We will find what it is that we are seeking, be it Sith atrocities, Dark Side malevolence, or peoples in need. If you do not desire to accompany us, I will respect that.” Leena knew that the droids and cyborg were a protective layer against the manipulations the dark side especially where force users might be concerned. She had poured over whatever bits of information she could find on Byss. It was not much and what she could find was unnerving at best. Grabbing Lok by the shoulder, Leena nodded knowingly to the Knight before dropping her arm to her side. Turning she made her way towards the others at the ship. She offered a smile and a nod to Zeris. “Captain. Lovely spear.” She paused giving the primitive weapon a once over. “My gear should be along momentarily. Then we are in your capable hands and . . . (¿) ship (?). We can depart when you give the word.” Her eyes ran over the worn vessel. She inhaled, calming her internal turmoil. Surely such a craft, kept by such a being, had it where it counted. Looking to Ruin, “If you could avoid turning people into flambé, that would be appreciated. That being said, if the Sith monsters get out of hand,” she gestured to the flamethrower encouragingly. A few minutes later a wheeled droid rolled down the bumpy path, chirping angrily at each dip and divot. “I am a medical droid. I am meant to be left indoors!” It carried a case of medical equipment and spare robes. Rolling up to Ruin, the fine-appendaged bot addressed the hulking war machine his tone straying from pure annoyance to one tinged with shades of respect. “These are for Jedi Council Master Kil for her journey. Where should I deposit them?”
    1 point
  14. Having successfully directed the pacification and liberation of Outer Heaven, Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak had directed his attentions to Mon Cal before being summoned to Nar Shaddaa. The glistening brand new hulls of a fleet of Mon Cal built warships pierced the twinkling darkness of space, reflecting the stars in their glistening chromium coated hulls. Aboard the bridge of the armor-laden Assault Lance, The Wailing Whaladon, Kolchak surveyed the cityscape below. It had not been that long ago that the strongest Imperial asset on the planet had been his very own shadowy cabal of Naval Intelligence operatives. Now, they were a stark minority, lurking amongst the undercurrent of the world, silently maintaining law and order, protecting the fleet and by it, freedom and dignity the galaxy over. Quickly, the cybernetically enhanced commander disembarked and made his way to the meeting below. He arrived, with his small contingent of white clad Imperial commandos just as the Empress was speaking, slipping into the back of the room as quietly as they may. Stoicly he listened as the heads of state and bureaucrats stated their thoughts and opinions. Democracy had it’s place, but to maintain such a thing required a razor-edged balance; one that, so far, a bloated galaxy like theirs was unable to maintain on a galactic scale without falling to dark desires and personal passions. What he had seen in the shadows of his career was that laziness, sloth and complacency allowed the current dark threat to fester and grow again into the monster that now threatened them all. When it came his turn to speak, the Vice Admiral of the Remnant’s naval forces and overseer of Naval Intelligence, a man whose career had been built upon his work as a pirate hunter and beyond the frontline combatant of the very evils these leaders now sought to oppose, stepped forward. Behind him stood his faceless contingent, a protective detail that belayed years of terror to evil doers and compliance to the will of the government’s leadership against chaos and disorder. “Highness,” he bowed slightly to the Empress. “The scourge on Outer Heaven haz fallen. Even now ze vorld is being rebuilt into ze visionz ov zis council. Freedom and prosperity shall reign. Ze forces under my command, naval and intelligence, stand ready to continue ze fight against oppression and villainy.” He paused as his mind and mechanized enhancements considered ending what he was saying there. For a moment, he stood silent before deciding to continue. “But zen, in a galaxy as large as ours, zhere vill always be zhese zhreats, internal and out.” He shot a knowing glance to the Queen-in-exile. “Ve must constantly vatch and strike vithout hesitation at any who vould zhreaten our people. Even now, ze ahipyardz ov Mon Cala are churning forth veapons by vhich to preserve ze peace ov ze stars. Zhey stand ready to zerve.” As soon as he was done, Nikolai, locked eyes with the Empress, nodded and stepped back. __________________________________ INTERDICTION CADRE: Interdiction Field -SFS Immobilizer 418-class Heavy Cruiser Constantine |9/9| (1xp) -MC30-class frigate Queen Memara |3/3| (1xp) -DP20 Corvette Surprise |2/1| (1xp) -DP20 Corvette Crescelle |2/1| (1xp) -DP20 Corvette Hawkbat |2/1| (1xp) -DP20 Corvette Audacity |2/1| (1xp) -MC90 Star Cruiser The Wailing Whaladon 25/25 Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram] Juggernaut -MC80a Star Cruiser Tessek’s Revenge 25/25 Search and Destroy Carrier Ghost Hunters
    1 point
  15. While the others spoke and walked, Fera’s little legs struggled to keep up, at first skittering across the forested floor, and when that proved to be occasionally a little slow, resorted to jumping from overturned log to pieces of ruined debris. “While I am not one to believe in matters of faith…” Fera beeped and chatterred while crawling over a piece of metal. “I do know that Ruin has great faith in the Jedi and their insights. No matter their blade color. At this, Fera stopped and gave a glancing look towards Lok’s blade. Whether this was an indication that the buzz droid had noticed Lok was not like most Jedi or something else, she didn’t say. However, she continued her beepings and buzzings as she attempted to keep up with the other two. “If you insinuate there are ‘sith writings’ at play here, I believe that this will satisfy my ward. And if Byss was once held by Sith, then it is appropriate to believe that they are still at work there. Back when I was manufactured, there was only one Sith of note, and now there are considerably more. Sith do not die. They only go to sleep. Ruin understands this to a degree and will go to Byss with enthusiasm” ____ “Don't break anything. Yes I fly very fast” Ruin seemed to nod at this and gave a thumbs up towards the pilot. While Zeris talked with the natives, Ruin seemed to ignore them and continued his inspection of the ship, muttering the entire time. Words about battle, flying, and death flowed from the droid like sludge from a pipe: Intermittently and in bursts. Eventually, Ruin stepped out of the ship, and upon seeing the spear in the pilot’s hands, nodded. “Stabs and skewers. Acids and burns. Good good. But flames and fires better.” At this, Ruin pulled out his X-Pyre grenade and tossed it up and down, almost as if to taunt the natives slightly.
    1 point
  16. This was a region of Nar Shaddaa that few sapient beings with legitimate business dared to enter. There were rumors--as with Coruscant, before the first or second time the ecumenopolis had undergone a planet-wide demolition--that mutants and other foul fauna prowled the Undercity. The legends of blind troglodytes, enormous duracrete-consuming wurms, even rakghouls--they were all favorites of Nar Shaddaa’s veterans, told with a poodoo-eating grin to spook the Imperial and Rebel visitors. Some of the more outlandish stories worried that the very foundations that the Imperial towers were built upon were not entirely stable--that the entire cityspace might collapse at any moment. Misal had yet to corroborate any of those stories. However, as the two Force-Sensitives departed the turbolift and their passage through the vast tunnel was lit by spot-lumas attuned to proximity sensors, one of the stories was immediately confirmed: the ecosystem of this elevation was entire different from the “surface”. It was cold, damp, and the very air felt sickeningly oily. The older Miraluka shivered once as she peered into the distant darkness. The Rebel Alliance may have patrolled these tunnels at some point--even removed leaking pipes and killed some of the more aggressive fauna--but their attempts at securing them did nothing to obliterate the claustrophobia. “As it happens, Nar Shaddaa has quite a fascinating geology for a moon of this size. Millenia of sapients building on top of the foundations of previous generations, almost no standardized documentation. There is a vast foundation of partly-forgotten infrastructure below the surface… such as these old maglev tunnels. Long abandoned, of course,” she added with a smile as their steps towards the general direction of the Imperial Knights headquarters echoed… and echoed… and echoed. A faint scuttle of a many-legged shadow retreated from them. A series of spotlumas flickered to life in the darkness far before them, but failed to reveal anything other than their own imaginations. As The Force tended to will such things, the path of the two Force-Sensitives was leading them directly towards the retreating lights. “I suspect that the Rebel Alliance deliberately built their headquarters over them. No doubt my daughter will find them very useful in the future. Three hundred meters at two-eighty until we are beneath the Imperial Knights’ complex. ” “Yes, Rebellion definitely did not succeed in sterilizing these tunnels. Hopefully that creature is not intelligent. Or social.”
    1 point
  17. “Ladies and gentlemen of the provisional government.” The young queen curtsied to the gathering of generals and fellow monarchs. “I come from a world that has little power. A world that believed in the silken words of the Galactic Alliance. We believed in the security of the senate. We believed in the righteousness of a democracy. Selecting our heads of state to be little more than pawns to the bureaucracy. Figureheads in white, whose skirts hid the failings of great men. We did not see what a mistake it was to trust the Galactic Alliance until it was far too late. Now I am the queen of a doomed planet, whose people lie under the heavy yoke of Sith thralldom. “While the Remnant screamed about Sith Incursions to the far Galactic East, the Galactic Alliance and its senate twiddled their thumbs. Arguing about taxation and trade disputes while men fought and died on their very doorstep. Now I will not disparage the brave men and women of the Military. I would never doubt their commitment, but they were shackled by foolish policy that withheld their hand from intervention. They were forced to watch while a great power rose to eclipse them that they could do nothing to stop. Because they were held back by the democratic senate. We may discuss rule of law and the punishment of specific crimes all we like. But if we do not fix the problem at its source we will just see the problem come around again. “I agree with the empress of the Imperial Remnant and I think all of you here when I say, never again should we allow ourselves and the Alliance to fall to this weakness. What else is a galactic government for if not to protect its citizens from threats external or internal. Naboo stands with the formation of a strong central government who is not bound by having every single thing its military does be voted upon by ten thousand competing interests. Interests I must point out that did not believe it within the power of the GA to stop slavery in the outer rim. Interests that put the crying of millions of innocents out of mind so that they could stay in their ivory towers. Her smile became a grim and hard jawed look of determination. Something that clashed with her soft and kind face. “For the safety of the people. We must not let a democracy result from this war. We cannot repeat the mistakes of our past. Because if we do, we have ignored the lesson bought with the blood of trillions.”
    1 point
  18. “I want the message to be clear. No-” She paused for a moment before looking back at the group of leaders who packed the stateroom of the Red and Black. “-I want it to be damn clear.” She pointed to the list of planets that scrolled down the holoform that was projected on the wall. “We will end the vile practise of slavery with blaster and bayonet. Ryloth was only a test. We may not be embraced with open arms in every corner of the galaxy, but when we take power-” She motioned to the galactic map, who’s spiraling arms were divided into sectors of garish coloured light. “-It is not an if. It is a when. That will be the galactic law. You own another sentient being in chattel slavery and you will be executed. Your assets confiscated and given to your victims.” She raised her hands as if to surrender. “Now this policy will not make us friends with the hutts…” The group of uniformed men and women laughed. “But we do not want to be friends with them. We will purge their kind from every hole they may try to bury themselves into.” She sighed, then looked back to Prince Alcarne, who stood in the regal blues of Outremer. Who stood alongside the other minor rulers of the Alliance. Baris Kailfreng of Montressor, and the well fed Count Rentor of Serenno, standing behind him. The other more democratic members being mostly noticeably absent from this meeting. As were the brown robed Jedi knights… But that would be the way of the galaxy. The great Democracies had ruled the Galactic Alliance. The had had their time in the sun, and had left the galaxy a bitter ruin. The very seat of democracy unceremoniously left to burn while its citizenry died by the trillions. Never again would such weakness be left as the guardian of the People. No. The galaxy needed a strong central power. Advised by the planetary and system governments, but not run by them. They would make up the government, its governors, its stewards. But decisions would not be up to some senate. Never again. The People and their safety would come first. Not some bureaucrat with forty years of experience voting himself money. There would be a place for democracy. Any planet that wanted to maintain theirs would be allowed to keep it. And those with monarchies and despots would keep their own forms of government. But Galactic matters would be handled by the council of governors and the Crown. And it was in this room that the influential members, those that provided military forces to the Alliance. Were discussing the general Constitution of the coming government. Even if it was a theoretical document. For there was still a war to be won. Raven finished her speech with another diatribe regarding slavery, then bowed to the youngest member in the room.
    1 point
  19. “Get up.” Two pairs of eyes locked for a moment through ‘T’ shaped visors, before one quickly glanced away. A blush formed across her face, which was thankfully hidden from the rest of the training unit by the stark and impersonal helmet. One more push on already far too tired legs, a strain on muscles not used to the weight of Empire issued armour. Once more into the run, following the almost inhuman surge of durasteel clad bodies as they ran down the beachhead. Pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, and the dreaded feeling of knowing that this would all repeat tomorrow. It would repeat forever most likely. Was that all there was? Running from training to training, punctuated by long downtimes in barrack, until either she died or the Empire fell? She didn’t know, and most of her mind did not care. What else was there in life? A boring office job in some casino the Rebels would blow the nuclear reactor of? No, she would be like father. Someone who made the gears of the galaxy move. Shoulder arms. Run. Jump. Crawl. Shoulder arms. Fire. Climb. Æthe 43391 would be a soldier. _____________________________ Three long hours later, the leader of the Darkwatch watched the recruits as they slowly trekked up the beach, their helmets finally taken off, and enjoying the last few hours of sunlight. They would be woken up at 0200 hours local time for night training. But they didn’t know that, so he let them enjoy their short evening. “Langraf, Frostwin. Reports if you please.” The two commanding officers of the first and second special operations companies stepped forward with crisp salutes. “The digs continue at pace. Though we are not participating in their activities, the archeologists continue to enjoy the sight of our commando’s protecting them. I anticipate another few weeks of likewise activities, as they continue to hunt down their ‘world altering’ artifacts. Whatever those are.” Delta laughed sharply. Then turned to Frostwin who gave him a friendly shrug. “Training continues as you can see. They are coming along well though some of the scientists in this expedition have suggested some kind of enhancement ‘therapies.’” Delta’s grin turned into a frown. “Anyone asks to do that again and bring them to me. We will not have Sith magic preformed on our men. Understood?” They both saluted. They had seen enough of that in their service time in Black Sun.
    1 point
  20. Lok lowered the nail of his thumb from his mouth as Leena's energy transferred into his own, a sense of tranquility coming over him briefly before he recoiled and pulled his shoulder away with a disdained look upon his face. He held nothing of note against the Jedi Healer, at least, other than her being a member of his former Order, the Jedi. But in some circles of the Order, he was among the opinion of being considered fallen, a Revanchist. And he held no knowledge of where her opinion in this matter laid. In this, he was reserved and cautious, even if they happened be allies at the moment. "I can translate Fera well enough. Her questions were similar to my own." Lok responded to Leena's own concerning the small Buzz Droid before turning his own concerns of this mission back to the Mon Cal Jedi. "In essence, we're going into this mission blindly, with no real reason to pursue it other than the visions plaguing you and upon the advice of friends outside both of our Orders? I must confess Master Jedi. The reasoning alludes me and I am uncomfortable in this task. Could these friends of yours be behind this with the information they have readily available to give?" In all honesty, what Leena revealed to Lok and Fera made the Knight question her sanity. Everything was too vague, half truths, and barely made sense. But given the effects upon her mind and body as the Force flowed through her, Lok questioned her narrative. Perhaps she had misspoken, or intentionally left something out. At this moment, he couldn't tell. For sleep deprivation could easily mess with the mind as much as the sanity of someone, triggering such ailments. But so could the Dark Side. And given her reluctance to keep the Jedi Order out of this situation, he could easily see both sides. Still... An Order was an Order and he was a Solider through and through. Briefly, his gaze turned to Fera as the trio walked along the path set out before them. "I suppose that Byss is worth checking out, simply to put both our minds at ease or to get to the truth of this matter." Lok spoke, having turned his gaze back to the Jedi and his stern eyes focused upon her own. "In this, I am greatful for the small group we have amassed. But, and I say this with all due respect Jedi, I am a Knight of her Imperial Majesty's and my days as a former Jedi are over. I will keep this mission and those under my care professional at all costs. I have a duty to them as much as I do my Empress and at the first sign of things going south, I will pull the plug on it. I hope you can respect this." Lok couldn't help but feel he was being overly harsh by this moment as the ship began to distantly come into view. But whether this turned out to be dire or not, he was openly blunt about his mission directive. He wore the Crimson Armor of an Imperial Knight and as long as he adorn his armor, he had to keep appearences tight. Plus, if this truly was the work of the Dark Side or a Practitioner, he had to keep his guard up. Especially with Ruin's affinity to slash and bash.
    1 point
  21. I keyed in the access code, and the gangway of The Crate lowered as the large droid talked. I started to wonder about him. Most droids either talk less than even I do or they love the sounds of their own vocabulators so much they wear them out in a week. This droid was different. It almost sounded like he was experimenting, like a kid who'd never held a sword suddenly taking one for a few swings. "You're fun," I said around what was left of my last cigarra. I really needed to slow down on these. "Don't break anything." I grinned then, a genuine grin, and that surprised me. It wasn't just the excitement of the mission. Something about this droid was...I wasn't sure...charming? "Yes. I fly fast." In truth, a long time ago I'd disabled a few of the inertial dampeners on The Crate and never repaired them. Just enough to cut the compensation a few percentile of course, not enough to be dangerous. But enough to feel some of those Gs. My smile got a little wider. I blinked at the unexpected gift. To be given a weapon in thanks by strangers...that said more of the quality of these people than it did of me or what I'd done. I accepted the spear with all the solemn gravitas I would have given an Echani master bestowing a title. Taking the spear in both hands, I bowed to the native. "I will be worthy of it."
    1 point
  22. Akheron listened to Tros, what he said was true. The heat of battle was a unpredictable beast of many moving parts, not everything could be accounted for. As the Mandalorian stood up, Akheron placed his own masked helmet back upon his head, concealing all but his eyes. He spoke, motioning to the bladed weapon being held before him. "Very well, consider this just the start, I will use what time is available until we leave here, where possible to teach what I know. You can accompany myself and the Shard to find a wound on this planet, for he must construct a lightsaber and crystal. As part of his training. If you so desire, you may bare witness to the true power of the Darkness of the Force....few ever get the chance. It shouldn't be far from here, such a area would also provide the space we need to move about freely and I to impart what you desire to learn." Moments after and Solus had returned, Akheron turned to face his apprentice. Looking upon his improvements, he found them sufficient, it was then he spoke. It was time to see what he had to say, and if he found the meaning of the Sith Code. "Ah my apprentice, you return. I see you took up my suggestion, very good. Now tell me what have you learnt of the Sith Code. What meaning did you define from it. Answer truthfully and openly, there will be no repercussions. The Sith Code contains a different meaning for all Sith."
    1 point
  23. At the end of this very long day, Johanna Bryce removed her helmet and pinned it to her hip. Her previous attempt at binding up her hair had long come undone. As she shook her hair free of the cheekplate, it came free in sweaty tangles that clung to her face. The Talon Captain’s appearance was rather worse for wear, with one eye bloodshot and bruised, the cheek below it cut from struggling in close-quarters combat. And yet, she and her men were smiling. And why wouldn’t they have reason to be pleased with themselves? Despite a long, difficult day of fighting, their entire fireteam had survived--indeed, the only wounds that they had suffered would knit together quickly enough after bacta and bedrest: a concussion, a broken leg, a ricochet from a blaster bolt, and uncounted bruises and scrapes and minor cuts that would be only an annoyance for a medtech. And from Bryce’s perspective, her twisted, bloodied smile came from a combination of pride and relief. After months of training and iterations on their equipment, the Talon concept had finally proven itself. Their breach into Outer Heaven had proceeded almost flawlessly--it was holding the reactor core that proved to be a challenge. Even with overwhelming numbers bearing down on them, however, they had held long enough for the regulars to relieve their position. “Thank you, sir,” salutes followed, with Vor gladly swinging his carbine to a rest at his shoulder. “I’ll be checking in with my squadmate on Constantine.” With the Rebel fleet ferrying regiment after regiment of ground troops to Outer Heaven, it was an easy matter to find a transport willing to take on an additional three soldiers back to the fleet. Insisting on watching from the cockpit--much to the pilot’s annoyance, the Talon watched the traffic descending from the fleet. Even with the station pacified and nearly all of its resisting elements neutralized, the shuttle traffic wasn’t slackening. If anything, it was only intensifying in frequency--and it wasn’t merely troop shuttles that were dropping off relief forces, but freighters and heavy transports.
    1 point
  24. Leena smiled as the cybernetic mercenary made her way into the destroyed village followed by a gaggle of villagers. It warmed her heart; this hardened warrior, her heart still held a warmth for others. Why else would she go to help they that she had no other connection to? “That Reaper Joe, always full of surprises,” she chuckled softly shaking her head as she turned and made her way back towards the makeshift medical ward in one of the few yet standing longhouses. Soon enough the sound of Zeris’ jackhammering blows rang through the heavy jungle air. Back in the ward, Leena pushed up her sleeves. The hot dense humid air was still here, making it even stickier as it mingled with the distinct odors of injury and illness. Grabbing a pot of clean water mixed with sanitizer and what passed for a stack of sterile rags, the Jedi Healer moved towards a fevered villager with a gapping wound that ran down his broken leg. With an expert eye, Leena eyed the poor workman, took in his pain and felt it pressing against her heart. Leena inhaled, reaching for the force. It was all about her as thick as the hot heavy humidity that hung in the air. She drew the man’s pain, coating it in protective healing energies. She extinguished the pain with a touch of the man’s forehead, using the rag to mop away his fevered sweat. Dipping it in the cool water, she set the cloth atop the man’s forehead before moving towards the source of the bodily devastation; the torn and broken leg. He had been crushed by the very pillar Zeris was even now addressing. With the skills of a surgeon, her hands led by the force, Leena began to gingerly purge the infection from the man’s elongated wound. She hummed softly as she worked, her voice crossing between the natural and supernatural, calling forth the pain and sickness, fostering tissue growth and healing at an exponential rate. Puss oozed forth at her calling. She wiped it away as her fingers chased the trails of deadened flesh cauterizing it away with a touch. Her presence filled the room, her very works aiding the healing of others that she was not even attending. Healing and life poured forth as she drew on the living force, connecting each wounded and sick patient to the healers and medics at work and to those in the village beyond. Attitudes were bolstered and footsteps quickened. Muscles strengthened and exhaustion dissipated like course sand beneath the tide. Life itself seemed to flourish in the village-encompassing aura of the Mon Cal. The smell of salted sea water seemed to settle across the village bringing with it a gentle cool mist against the heat of the day. As she worked, Leena’s warm joyful song, gently hummed between concentrated lips, a second natured act as the woman focused on her task at hand, seemed to waft across the village, a faint tune in the ear of anyone that stopped to hear it. It told a wordless story of regeneration and life, of the conquering of death and darkness. It spoke of a love of life and passionate compassion for the least of these. All who heard it would be encouraged, empowered deep in their soul, to embrace their lightest and most pure traits and to act upon them in selfless acts for the greater good.
    1 point
  25. Whether by stupidity, sheer luck or the will of the Force, the pilot Kirlocca had sent away and told not to return if he never received a signal; he returned to the scene in order to help pull the Jedi Master and his apprentice out of the area. The thought of leaving him on a planet to die seemed rather unnecessary when the galaxy could really use the legendary Jedi Wookiee in the galaxy. To his surprise he found the pair rather quickly on the outskirts of the slowly dying city. Getting them loaded up, the droid that pulled the younger Jedi on board was blaring whistles and everything else to let him know that there was another one that still needed to be rescued. Tracking the lifeform on the dying planet seemed easy enough, but the pilot found her much further in the main city, where everything was starting to go downhill quickly. The pilot had the crew move quickly and get the girl on board quickly. She was badly injured, with limbs either not on or barely hanging on. Most notably what appeared to be a shotgun being impaled through her chest, hanging from it on some kind of pillar. Once they had everyone recovered and stable for the moment, the pilot then quickly raced off and headed back for Nar Shaddaa quickly to get the three Jedi medical attention quickly.
    1 point
  26. Scorpio stood there in an encombered silence, the weight heavy in what Frond was asking of him. Even as he placed his hand upon the hilt of his saber, his hand shook with reluctance. And it echoed, the malice intent of the Saber, the crystal within calling for blood, death, destruction, all things unholy. It screamed within the ripples of the Force, visions of days gone by remembered by it at the mere touch of his hand. War was it all it ever knew, and it was forged in its flames, as was it's Master. Sabers forged during training are connected to their wielders. Through time and use, the bonds grow between warrior and weapon. For users of the Force, it's intensified ten fold through the crystal and application of the Force. And even though Scorpio and Anakin were once separate beings, the Saber followed both. It had been influenced by boths sides of the Force and retained it's own memory along with the memories of both. In essence, the Blade held a certain sentience to it within the Force. And Scorpio feared unleashing it. And it was this that he held a reluctance to fight. To wield it meant to allow it's self a brief moment of freedom, and in that moment, influence over him. Activation was to release the warrior within himself as much as the blade. "Long have the Rebellion and their allies faced the war marches of the Sith Imperium," Scorpio began as his gaze met Frond's. "And long have their actions held consequences for the Force and those attuned. Children are drafted to replenish numbers, families are torn apart, lives and homes destroyed, and wounds are left both upon body and spirit, echoes in the Force. Action breeds reaction, and reaction breeds action. Nothing changes, and the Force suffers. Only in inaction have I found peace and tranquility after walking the path you are asking me to return to." Scorpio's gaze turned to his daughter, the consequences Frond was asking him to inflict upon her weighing upon his mind. He sighed and turned back to Frond. "I am a living testament to such wounds, as will she become if I walk this path again. Are you sure you know what you are asking to be sacrificed?" Scorpio's gaze looked past Frond toward those who looked on in desperation and fear, his own clouding his judgement. He knew this. He knew he held his own reasons to hang onto peace for as long as he could. And he could still save as many as he could without the use of his blade or to march back to war. But what Frond was asking held deeper consequences. If he was to pick up his saber and take a life, hate would take root in the families of those he slay, just as it would if he chose inaction for those he could have saved. But those wouldn't be on his conscience. What Frond was asking was to place others on his conscience and for him to carry the burden of death, the burden of War. And War was a tricky and slippery slope. To take a life meant you became an object of hate. To lift a blade meant you became an object of defense. To open yourself to the emotions of the moment meant you opened yourself to the unnatural. And if you saved a life, you became an object of dependence. This was why he walked away from War. This is why he chose to walk a different path. The Force is perfect within it's own path if you followed it correctly. But to use the Force in either attack or defense meant to change it's course. And in that, meant wounds that would echo for decades. This was the truth he found at Onderon. If you are sure, then you will have me and my blade at your side. I will sacrifice all and carry the burden of war, but only in the name of the Force."
    1 point
  27. The thirty first Infantry division slowly spread out through the underground caverns that made up the capital city of Ryloth. These were the cream of the old Imperial Military, their uniforms crisp and their armour shined to a grey brilliance. Most did not wear helmets and kept them on loops attached to their belts. The directive to make the face of the Imperial Military and also the Rebel Alliance a humane one was a brilliant change compared to the army only a decade before. Smiles were returned with smiles, and the old imperial military officers conducted their house clearing with grim and effective precision. Evidence was collected, slaves freed, and their prior owners and smugglers ushered to the hanger bay, where they were assessed, evidence shown to the three generals in charge of the takeover, and then when found guilty, packed into the back of four gallant class shuttles. Slavery was a horrible crime, and an unforgivable one in the jurisdiction of the Imperial Remnant. A capital crime which carried a sentence of death. And when the four transports were in orbit over the tidally locked planet, the cargo bay doors were opened and some two hundred criminals experienced something that would stick with them for the rest of their life. Explosive decompression
    1 point
  28. There was no time to issue orders, no time to think, only time to run run run as ten meters and an uncountable number of kilograms teetered and began to tumble onto the shoulders of the two Talon shock troopers. Bryce hugged her carbine to her chest and sprinted away from ignominious death as crates slid off of the shelves and slammed onto the warehouse floor. She vaguely felt the heat of two blaster bolts sear through the synthleather of her belt-pat and caress the plate of her greaves--of more immediate concern was the figure that suddenly loomed out of the dust, long-barrelled disruptor rifle aimed in the rough direction of her breastbone at point-blank range. And then a blaster bolt blazed directly into the humanoid’s left temple, spilling both the sapient and their weapon to the ground amidst a cloud of vaporized bone and gore. The Talon shock trooper slammed into the falling corpse with her shoulder, pinning it against the wall and smearing red over the dusty grey surface. “Kriff, kriff, kriff--I’m good.” Her squadmate puffed as he narrowly escaped a metric ton of who-knows-what falling upon his shoulders. “Two more--” he flinched as a disruptor beam sizzled through the space between their shoulders. Johanna had already snapped her carbine up to their two assailants from a distant catwalk and was blazing blaster fire towards the two sapients. In her shaking hands, her blaster fire was splashing against the walls and catwalks, only succeeding in blasting chunks of duracrete from the walls and showering sparks over her targets. Their return fire was nearly as enthusiastic but even less disciplined; the crimson disruptor beams reduced entire chunks of the walls to dust. Bryce dove to the side as yet another disruptor beam burst only centimeters in front of her face, exploding the duracrete wall into a cloud of dust. The shock trooper clambered clumsily over the ruin of crates and shelves, the wreckage sagging under her armor as the inaccurate disruptor fire reduced crates to explosions of splinters and beams to slag… Two steadily-aimed blaster bolts raced out towards the final two terrorists, striking them in perfect center-of-mass impacts that pitched both to the floor. “Captain, Vor, you two alright?” Came the calm, reassuring voice of their squadmate. _____ The remainder of the raid involved a great deal of shouting and no small amount of toil from the Imperial Scouts’ medics. Half of the ground floor of the warehouse was a ruin, as misaimed disruptor fire had caused shelves to collapse against each other in a chain reaction. The catwalks were strewn with rubble from blaster fire. The few terrorists who had not been killed outright by blaster fire continued to groan and writhe, one even attempting to lift the barrel of their bulky disruptor rifle. Johanna’s boot came down hard on the receiver of that weapon with a crack of splintering plastoid and the shock trooper scowled at the supine Sullustan. “Really? Resisting a medic? Stormies, you find anyone else?" “No… Captain.” Johanna thought she heard a sigh over the comms. “All clear in the offices.”
    1 point
  29. Dust and debris erupted within the warehouse as the lift tore through it's exterior, the sentients within caught off guard and amidst confusion. Three of the immediate seven swung blasters and disruptors about in haste as fear consumed their minds and hearts while their leader stood with one of the hostages within his grasp. He quickly turned the human female into a shield as he sucked behind her covering as the air grew foggy and dense. "Our oppressors have came to claim our lives!" He shouted from behind his living shield toward the others, his intent to drive hatred into the hearts to counter the fear that enveloped them. "Do not go quietly. We will free our descendants from the human tyranny!" But fear was a powerful oppressor in its own right and blaster bolts along with explosive disruptor rounds echoed toward the gaping hole through the fog of dust and duracrete powder only to be followed by silence as the unknowing played with the psyche. One, two, three, four, five... Seconds passed within the confines of the fog as the suspects pondered their accuracy. And then the ignition and glowing hum of a silver blade amidst the fog echoed in the center of the room. Lok had already entered into the fray. Blasters and Disruptors turned inward upon each other as the scene became a torrent of friendly fire, the Imperial Warden amidst it's center as his form twisted and contoured. Disruptor blasts whizzed by in near misses and saber met blaster bolts in deflection as Lok's determination met vibrantly with his skill, and within moments, aid would drop from the heavens in a literal sense. Shifting from the center as the mass fell to the earth from it's explosive release, Lok came up from a forward roll as he sensed the flash bangs following in suit. With a little persuasion in the Force and a flick of his wrists, they found their targets lacking in a blinding revelation. As the suspects wandered in blindness briefly and the Talons descended, Lok took the moment to counter his quarry. He drifted within the fog across the forms of both hostage and suspects alike as they laid upon the duracrete flooring and with a pull upon the Force, he tugged both hostage and capture to the floor before him. Before the Shistavanien even held a chance to recoil, Lok had pounced upon him like a Sand Panther upon its prey and his blade hummed closely against skin. "Kill me human. Show the Galaxy your species' oppression." He spoke through spit and anger, his bloodied paw pointing toward a localized camera that was linked to the holonet nearby. "Do it." Lok stood there, his gaze shifting from the Shistavanien and the camera. Anger boiled within as he remembered the intent he felt from the creature and the bodies he crossed due to its dark heart. His face flushed with his boiling blood and Lok struggled not to kill the creature instantly. But with a deep sigh, Lok smiled as the dust began to settle. Rearing his head back, he slammed his forehead hard against that of the Shistavanien's, knocking the creature unconscious as he released his grip. Turning toward the pirated broadcast, Lok approached, raising his blade high and striking the floating probe. As the holocast went dark, Lok turned to the settling scene. It was over, for now....
    1 point
  30. “Well done not feeding anger at going down to a blow like that.” It had not been her master’s technique, but Alcmène far preferred a praising approach to training than the constant belittlement and punishments that she had received. Her blade was easily batted aside by his own blow and her thin smile became a grin. She danced back from the blow at her waist, letting it whisper past her midriff, furrowing a long black line in her red tunic. “Remaining calm is where we Jedi thrive. Do not let the taunts of anger of you opponent effect you.” She gestured her hand and a stiff telekinetic blow slammed towards his ankles. “If an opponent is stronger than you. Break his roots.”
    1 point
  31. “Click click…Boom!” Ruin muttered as he pumped the barrel of the flachette launcher, turned a corner and fired. The point-blank spread of metal shrapnel tore the human’s face and neck and upper chest to shreds, leaving behind a flayed skull leaking blood and brains against a metal wall. “Click click…” Ruin muttered again as he pumped the barrel once more. Fera gave what sounded like a sigh. “While it pleases me that you have developed some kind of enjoyment from this activity…” Fera began, its binary clicking and clacks barely audible in an attempt to maintain some form of stealth. “Boom boom!” Ruin roared as he clicked the gun trigger. The criminal screamed in pain, as the shot was a bit more aimed towards the groin area rather than the face. The man dropped his weapons and himself to the ground, most likely knowing these were his last moments. “But perhaps there are more effective ways of dealing with these criminals? You are capable of higher cognition, and I believe you should utilize it as well as trying to stay within the parameters set by… Fera didn’t finish. Turning around the corner, Ruin was met with a flurry of blaster fire. At the far end of the hallway, three more criminals had set up what looked like a smuggled repeating blaster turret, complete with its own generator. The criminals were scared. It was clear from their wide eyed faces that was the case, and they were getting desperate. Thankfully, scared meant inaccurate, and Ruin barely got behind the corner where the one dying criminal was losing blood. The hall lit up like Life day as the criminals at the far end yelled and screamed profanities at their attacker. “Analyzing targets” Fera commented, having jumped off his carrier to peer around the corner. “Three targets. All human. Last ones in this building by my calculations” “Good, good! Brains and Burns! Burn their brains!!” Ruin chuckled and roared. Down went the flechette launcher. In his right, Ruin grabbed the X-Pyre grenade. And in his left… “Get up! You gonna be the brains! Friends be the burn! Haha!” Ruin commented as the already bled-out corpse was hefted up by its shirt. Literally now holding a meat shield, Ruin dashed into the open, inviting the gunfire. The heat and the force of the shots hitting the corpse-shield made Ruin pause a moment, but barely. The sizzling of flesh was barely overheard over the laser fire and Ruin’s laughter. The droid pushed forward to get behind another wall corner, if only for a moment of respite. “Burn it up! Burn and Brains!” Ruin stepped back into the open and pushed the small button on top of the grenade. The small device locked into place and began a mechanical clicking of a timer, indicating how long it would be until detonation. Ruin threw the device and jumped back. Moments later, the grenade erupted. The released aerosol worm-spit caught fire with a roar. The fireball consumed all, caring not for what life was in the way, nor what metal it destroyed. Several minutes later, Ruin finally stepped around the corner. Like candles, the now charred-black bodies were still burning, giving off a horrible odor. Bits of Worm-Spit scattered over the area continued to burn as well, melting through solid metal like a plasma torch. The gun and generator were completely melted into disuse by this point, but Ruin gave no indication of care. “Heh, burns and brains. Lots of burns. No more brains.” Ruin commented. “Indeed” Fera commented. “I will radio the others, let them know that this building has been completely cleared out. Hopefully they won’t mind that we had to take such drastic actions, but given the weaponry these criminals were carrying…” Ruin only gave a shrug and moved towards to the nearest door to the outside streets.
    1 point
  32. Whew, another duel here. Y'all are keeping me busy, you bastards. But I'm happy to do it! As before, we'll start with the bad, then hit the good, end on a positive note for the ruling. First, Sheog. There are two things that spring to mind here. First, I couldn't find any mention whatsoever of damage taken in the previous duel, which in battles where you're dueling consecutively stands as an important note to take. Next, your final post pushes your abilities a little too far, I feel. From summoning your axe and throwing it, conjuring Force Vomitus, and firing a radiation beam at your opponent, you're using two major force powers while trying to guide your axe to your target. While the setting is Sheog clearly eating a planet, and the schism between that and what you're capable of in a duel can be a tad jarring, it's important to take a look at what you're doing and considering if it's too much. Next, Alleria. This is your first duel on the site, and while your posts keep up with the narrative in Sheog's well, when we get down to the fight itself we're left with a bit of a pickle. First, the power disparity. A fight against a higher ranked character, even an injured one, will almost always be an uphill battle. Very rarely do we see upsets of this balance, and that's important to keep in mind when deciding if you'll duel or not. Second, as an apprentice force user who has not taken up a class yet, you try to take from the best of both FU and NFU worlds, which for balance purposes is not acceptable. NFUs are inherently at a disadvantage to FUs without these rules, as anything an NFU could do a FU could potentially do better. As such, we limit tech FUs are allowed to use. Between your usage of the Force and a lightsaber, and a veritable armory of NFU tech like blaster pistols and heavy duty explosives (Like the detonite and thermal detonators), this is a violation of our dueling rules. Again, it's your first duel on this site, so you aren't in trouble, but it certainly counts against you for the purposes of this ruling. Finally, your last attack against your opponent. At no point can you write your attack hitting your opponent. Sticking your arm into the wounded Hutt, while a bad idea for reasons beyond what I'm touching on here, is closed attack, as your opponent has been granted no opportunity to defend himself. Even if he has a chance to react to the detonator, you've dealt damage to him by showing an appendage into a gaping wound. As the rules stand at the time of writing this ruling, even grabbing an opponent's shirt is grounds for a duel loss, as it can put them at a disadvantageous position without getting a say in the matter. Even for the last post in a duel, this is unacceptable due to the existence of follow-up duels and ties that turn into a second duel. (Again not in trouble, it's just important to mention these things in the ruling so that players have a clear and concise idea of what they did right and wrong Now we can move to the good. You both did excellently at responding to and receiving damage, and both of you led with clear and concise attacks that are explained well. At no time was I scratching my head saying 'What just happened?'. The scene was written well, and I kept track of the fight pretty easily. With the timing of the duel taken into account both IC and OOC, both of y'all made an admirable showing and despite the above criticisms, should come out of this feeling confident that you both put up a good fight. With all that said, my ruling is thus: Sheog the Mad defeats Alleria Tal'verda, and has next post.
    1 point
  33. The creature simply allowing itself to boil away, even if it still had something left under what was consumed, was disturbing. Alliera had known huts were damage resistant, but this took things to a ridiculous level. Seriously, could anything hurt this monster? Did it feel pain? Would anything kill it? That line of thought was derailed when the axe came hurtling at Alliera, with some kind of darkside spirits haunting it. Alliera tried to dodge out of the way of the axe, feeling more intense heat as her maneuver brought her closer to one of the lava flows, and what happened next almost sent her INTO The lavaflow. Alliera hadn't quiet dodged far enough, so her helmet now had a rather sizable gash in the side of it. The creation of this gash caused Alliera's head to recoil and stumble, and almost falling into the nearest lava flow. What stopped this fall was a quick grapple to the nearest roof that was not on fire, which pulled her up just as she was about to fall into the Lava The Vomit came next, while Alliera was rapidly ascending the building, doing her best to avoid fires and particularly hot pieces. Alliera wasn't particularly aware of this happening, but she did miss it. When Alliera crawled onto the building, she layed herself down on the roof. Her head was ringing, and the damage to her helmet made the hud glitch out. Alliera pried off her helmet, and tossed it to the side...it was useless in any case. Alliera tried to reach through the force to feel something to bring her back to normal, and she felt the world below her dying. She had been too late. She couldn't save this world, she couldn't even save this city. Alliera just hoped the Johan and Kirlocca get off world before it finally collapsed in on itself, or was eaten. They would, Alliera knew they would. Kirlocca was an experianced Jedi Master, and the apprentice he would have with him was the one who didn't have a habit of blowing things up...which was always handy in escapes like the one those two would have to undertake. Alliera knew she would likely die here now, the monster was absorbing everything, and the city was burning around her. She didn't dare get in close to use the lightsaber she pocketed from her master, it was mostly there to do what it did. Alliera briefly contemplated dying where she was....letting the fire consume her while the monster continued it's path of destruction. Why not? She had made her stand, she got her Master and Fellow student both out of the way of the monster. Alliera did her job, she could rest now. Alliera looked up at the evening sky, it was ruined by the storm and the random black hole-ish things in the atmosphere....but she could imagine the stars. Countless worlds and the Massive Stars they orbited, she had visited a fair few in her lifetime, more than a girl like her had any right too. The young girl briefly wondered if she'd be able to see Concord's Star from here, if the whole dark side thing wasn't happening. How long would it take this creature to get there, the girl wondered next, how long to Concord Dawn for a monster like the Slug below her? How many worlds would he consume, before a real Jedi stopped him, before someone like the mighty Paladins of Legend came? Alliera's right hand found one of her grenades, and with it, an idea came...unbidden. Maybe she could damage this creature after all, or at least slow it down long enough for her Master and Johan to get off world and warn someone. Alliera kept the grenade, a typical thermal detonator, as she stood up and looked over the edge... Alliera shook her head, clearing the cobwebs and letting the thought settle, and working to make sure she knew where the creature went while she was recovering. Alliera found what she was looking for almost immediately. The creature was dotted with gaping wounds from her fight with him as well as Kirlocca and Johan's own work. Alliera just needed one deeper one, and she had one. Alliera quickly grappled to a roof closer to the monster, and then grappled down to almost ground level, using her pistol to try and cover her descent. As alliera got low enough to avoid very serious injury, she pushed off of the wall of the building she was grappling down, and disengaged the grapple. At this point, she depressed the button of the Thermal Detonator, causing it to start it's countdown. Alliera landed in a roll, almost colliding into the side of the massive beast, and attempted to shove the thermal detonator as far as she could into the nearest deep wound with her arm. ((3)) ((took more burns from the ground, got her bell rung and helmet ruined by the axe. Tried to use her pistol to cover her descent. Cooked her grenade so it would go off sooner, and tried to shove it and one of her arms as deep into the ugly slug as she could. This was scary and awesome, and I'm sorry it took me this long.))
    1 point
  34. In the fight, Solus didn’t feel the blade piercing him at first. His entire attention was focused on one task: Crushing and killing the necromancer. If he was a human, he would’ve been experiencing an adrenaline rush. If he was a pure droid, he would have had no pain receptors. But as a shard, he was just solely focused on one task that everything else didn’t matter. Only victory mattered. And Solus had achieved that. The silence that filled the air in the moments after the blade flickered out was legendary. For that one moment, it felt like even the Force went still; that all of the shapes and forms in the Impossible Geometries had been frozen in time. That life and death were briefly intertwined like young lovers. Solus smiled inwardly. He had done it. He had fed the Fanged God with a worthy adversary. One who tainted life and deserved death. One who had escaped it for so… Solus shivered instinctively as the necromancer’s voice spoke one last time. Confusion and anger swirled in the Shard's mind. He had not done it! The necromancer still lived! Beyond Solus' limited understanding, beyond all the impossibilities of it all, Innmortos lived! Was the necromancer that powerful? Or was the Fanged God that weak? While these questions wouldn’t bother Solus at the moment, in his meditations Solus would possibly begin to question the true power of the Fanged God later. Pain brought Solus back to reality. He nearly fell limp over the body as his shard-mind finally realized what had truly happened to his body. The impalement of the weapon was nearly a lethal one. A few inches closer to the right would have struck the chassis battery and caused an irreversible explosion, or in the case of the necromancer’s blade, a complete energy drain of the entire chassis, including his very Shard. Instant death, with no form of recovery. What damage the blade had done however, was still crippling to say the least. Solus realized that as he attempted to stand up. The motors to his left arm had been disconnected entirely, making it fall limp. The cut the blade made downwards ruptured several cooling tubes, and the mixture of pneumatic and electric leg motors were damaged, meaning Solus would be limping until repaired. And the cracked headpiece meant that he had a 30 degrees blindspot. Still, Solus could move. With what little strength his motors could apply, Solus used his one good arm and grabbed the crushed corpse of Innmortos, and dragged it towards where his master and the armored one watched. “Get away from me you lackwits…” Solus commanded the Linnorms who attempted to come help. They believed that Solus had truly killed Innmortos, and now couldn’t help but view the Sith apprentice in a new light. The Linnorms backed off as Solus continued to grumble almost silently. "If anyone had anything to show for this, its me. If anyone else gets any praise for this, I will end them myself and earn more praise. And if any kriffing idiot thinks that this entire thing was stupid and needs to abuse me again in front of everyone..." The limping towards Akheron, the armored one, and now Tear as well, was long but determined. Eventually, Solus stood before the group, and dropped the body. Behind him in the plaza, Innmortos’ blade exploded with dark energy, killing the Linnorms who had been curious about salvaging the weapon. The draining energy from the explosion in the background, as far as it was, had a visible effect on the Shard. The robotic being’s leg motors finally gave in. The shard fell into a kneel, out of both respect and an impossibility to do anything else. “Have I earned some form of respect back from you Master?” As much as Solus wanted to speak words of venom to being who abused the Shard in front of the Empress, Solus kept his voice monotone, and his presence in the Force quiet. The battle with Innmortos had taught him how to do that much. Solus then turned his head to indicate his next words were directed towards the armored one. “And perhaps this was a demonstration of my skills for the upcoming battle? Does this please the both of you?”
    1 point
  35. Glasignis “You were right to fear the world. It has gone mad. The gutters brim with poets. Decency lies burning in the street. But this is not a time for heroes. Look instead to those battered souls who have known fear and failure in ample portion, but rise again to reclaim a glimmer of hope” - A Keeper of Twilight Coordinates: K6 A planet in the throes of Armageddon. A dying world that refuses to move on. A sphere of survivors and monsters. These are the most basic descriptions of Glasignis. A tidally locked planet located in the Expansion region, Glasignis once boasted a well-behaved and advanced society, complete with its own force traditions. Tragically, a force-imbued plague known as the Howling caused the planet’s people to rapidly degenerate and now the world is nothing more than smoldering ruins, mutated farmland, overgrown forests and barely functional roads, not to mention the frozen Umbraside and the burning Brightside ends of the planet. Still, life struggles on, each day a test of strength and willpower. History Much of Glasignis' written history has been lost. Earliest records of the planet show it being colonized in 80 BBY and an application for representation in the senate was received in 24 BBY, only to be quickly withdrawn at the start of the clone wars to maintain neutrality. Being out of the way of any major trade route, and not a major export in many materials, Glasignis was content to be out of galactic affairs. For a short period, the galactic empire considered making the planet a vacation resort for imperial officers, but this plan was discarded. When the Howling started to spread is speculative, though best estimates believe it started 30 to 90 years ago. Being a proud people, the residents did not request help from anyone, and shortly afterwards the government fell apart. By the current date, most survivors have forgotten what life before the Howling was like, and their optimism and pride keep the people alive for now. The Howling (aka the Howling Flesh) No one is sure how the Howling started. Some people believe it started when a rogue Sith came to the world and created the disease as a way to take over the world. Some think the Force itself manifested it spontaneously and without reason. Still others think that one of the Keepers of Twilight accidentally released an eon-forgotten disease in their pursuit of knowledge. Whatever the cause, the disease runs rampant. The disease is known as the Howling for the effects it causes on infected beings, both sentient and non-sentient. Spread via physical contact, the disease infects DNA and Midichlorians, causing warpage. This results in the infected becoming various forms of monsters, ranging in form wildly. Worse yet is that those infected tend to become slightly force resistant and mentally insane, making it impossible to control the monsters in any way. The forms that the infected take vary wildly, but they do tend to reflect the environment they are in. Those in the Emberpits tend to have flammable bodies and metal-like bones extending from their hides, while those in the Foetid Farms have tumors, boils and additional bleeding orifices. These traits are gruesome to say the least, and each monster seems to instinctively know how to make the best of their newest mutations. What tends to confuse doctors and Force Healers is that those infected with the disease tend to die almost immediately when leaving the system. While this does prevent a galactic outbreak from occurring, it also makes researching the disease very dangerous, as all work must be done on the planet. Researchers are worried that if this disease occurs on other planets, there is no clue as to whether it will keep this planet-bound trait or not. Residents Life on Glasignis is a constant battle and an eternal trek. When the Howling caused widespread destruction and panic, all forms of government fell and the survivors were divided into nomadic tribes, or better known as caravans. While most of the populace is human, it is not too uncommon to see other alien races who had settled on the planet before the Howling struck. Caravans are forced to travel. In order to survive long-term, they must make their way through the once-populated Twilight Ring to retrieve mineral resources from the Brightside and water and food from the Umbraside. The roving monsters make it impossible for people to stay in one place while scouts go to get resources, so everyone is always on the move together. This might mean caravans are composed entirely of speeder bikes or be made up of people walking on foot with a food-laden hovercraft closely behind. With most forms of transport technology breaking down at some point and with supplies always limited, these journeys are dangerous to say the least. However, to the residents, it beats the alternative of starving to death or remaining in one place for the monsters to ambush. Despite attempts and offers to transport the residents offworld, a combination of pride and optimistic determinism keep the people rooted on the planet. They have survived this long, and they will not leave their home now. However, they have accepted most forms of help, from food and medical supplies to gifts of technology. In return, almost anyone from off world can find open arms from these caravans. Those who do not belong to any specific caravans are known as outlaws. These people are considered the worst beings on the planet. Instead of working together, they set up traps and attack caravans to carry off whatever they find. Occasionally they align with other outlaws to attack a larger caravan, but when the howling strikes and monsters swarm, all alliances are called off. The Keepers of Twilight Before the Howling, Glasignis had a rich culture, complete with its own religion based on the force. Possibly founded by a Jedi who was stranded on the planet an eon ago, the Twilight is eerily similar to the teachings of the Jedi, with a focus on spiritual and emotional enlightenment, a pursuit for knowledge, and a selfless attitude. Those priests of the Twilight religion were known as Keepers, and like the Jedi, they tried to maintain the peace on Glasignis. The only major difference between the Jedi and the Keepers is the latter's belief of the ends justifying most means. Even then, the Keepers argue that their view is not so straightforward. "Blind means are never justified. Those are the ways of a fool. Rather, a well thought out end justifies well-educated means. One must have knowledge to act beyond basic instinct, which is what we all strive for" - Keeper of Twilight Teaching After the Howling, the Keepers of Twilight took on a more leadership role. Almost each caravan is led or advised by at least one Keeper. Scholars first and foremost, the Keepers maintain maps of the ruined world, data entries of the time before the Howling (which is little), logs of their journeys and losses everyone has sustained, as well as their own lessons on the Force. While they do not share their secrets easily, those the Keepers find trustworthy and helpful tend to learn a few things. People believe the Keepers have made both wonderful and gruesome discoveries about the force. Discoveries that the jedi and the sith would love to have and hate for the other to find out. Geography Being a tidally locked planet, the planet is divided into three sections: The Sunscorched Brightside, the frozen Umbraside, and the temperate, populated twilight ring that lines the planet’s terminator zone. Brightside This half of the planet is a barren, scorched land. Sporadic mountain ranges rich in mineral deposits dot the landscape, with a lake of lava facing directly towards the planet’s yellow star. Before the Howling struck, the residents of Glasignis used droids to mine the mountain ranges for necessary resources. A few abandoned mining settlements dot closely to the Twilight Ring, being the only places where people can utilize technology to reacquire the necessary technology to keep surviving. It is rumored between traveling caravans that somewhere in Brightside is a hidden library built by the Keepers of Twilight. While the actual keepers either deny such a place exists or confess that they have no idea if such a place does exist, the rumor continues on, stating that the temple could hold a potential cure for the Howling, as well as other secrets. Umbraside This half of the planet is cold and abysmally dark. Frozen oceans as hard as bedrock face away from the planet’s star, and only along the edge of the Twilight Ring is where liquid water can be found thanks to the planet’s Emberpits (see Emberpits below). Along these coast lines, caravans collect water, farm patches of vegetables and fruits for future caravans to harvest, and rest before making their return trip to Brightside. A large landmass does exist above the frozen ocean on the Umbraside, surprisingly filled with frozen trees and deadly night creatures that somehow survive the unbearable cold that would kill any other species. It is here that people believe a secret laboratory that possibly created the Howling exists, though this is speculative at best. Twilight Ring Once a city that completely encircled the planet’s terminator zone, the Twilight Ring is where most life on the planet exists. Whether it is the caravans passing through it to get to the Brightside or the Umbraside, the outlaws who hold up as long as possible, or the wild monsters that roam the ruins and the overgrown roads, life exists here. Before the Howling had caused so much destruction, the eternal stage of twilight was considered beautiful and mysterious. Now, the stage between darkness and light causes only anxiety as monsters can appear around any corner. Below are listed some of the environments found in the Twilight Ring. This is not a complete list, and visitors to the planet could discover other kinds of areas, as well as the infected that reside there. Emberpits In order to bring heat closer to Umbraside, the citizens of the planet created pits that released heat and lava from the planet’s core. After the Howling, these well cared for heat pits fell out of use. Unfortunately, this meant that the heat leaked out into the surrounding areas, creating miniature hellscapes, with the Howling making figurative demons to roam the ruins of industrial factories, complete with charred and flayed skin, metal-like appendages, and ravenous appetites. Foetid Farms Before the Howling, when the Twilight Ring functioned like a well oiled machine, the farmlands were the bread baskets. Now the lands have become overgrown to the point of absurdity. Jungles of vines where fields of vegetables once existed, forests of gnarly trees where fruit was harvested, and poisonous weeds now thrive in these places. This is nothing to say of the carnivorous beings who were once the farmers of these lands, who are more like ghouls than people. People have even reported seeing the infected here eating other infected, only to somehow continue to repopulate. Nerf Countries/Wild Zones Nothing was more frightening to the residents of the Twilight Ring than the realization that the common wildlife was susceptible to the Howling. Those animals that were infected grew in size and intelligence, to the point of loosely organizing themselves. The most dangerous of the animals were the nerf herds kept for feasting occasions. Mutated beyond recognition, these beasts now claim vast areas and kill whatever they find. Passing through Nerf country is an unadvisable, but sometimes necessary, task. Worn-Down Ruins Teeming with the infected, the ruins of the Twilight Ring are filled with collapsing skyscrapers, abandoned shacks, torn down warehouses, and ravaged cities. Those ruins closer to the Brightside tend to be more scorched and burnt, while those closer to the Umbraside more cold. Whether it is the outlaws laying out traps on roadways, or the monsters roaming the streets, the ruins of the Twilight Ring are dangerous to say the least. Lost technologies, forgotten knowledge, and many other things draw people both from on and off world to these areas, only to be torn apart or infected by the beasts that call these places home.
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  36. Blaster fire continued to echo as Rebel troops stormed through the remaining sources of resistance in Sector Seven, but from her perch on the top of Warehouse Three, Bryce could see that the advance had stopped. Eight white-clad stormtroopers maintained a loose perimeter around the warehouse, taking cover behind landspeeders and waiting for a signal to begin their assault. That signal came in the form of a crimson-clad Imperial Knight charging in. Johanna felt her jaw drop at the sight of the man charging in through a breach in a side-wall. “That Jedi just went in. What in the Nine Hells…” “Chatter, Four. Tros, how’s it look?” The Duros jammed his vibromachete into the roofing material and used the blade as a lever. An entire block of the warehouse’s roof peeled away with ease, rust and lichen falling as splashes of color against the grey powdery dust that slipped through the shock trooper’s gauntlets. “Substandard duracrete mix. Ribbons, Vor?” A nod of assent came from the other Talon, and the two soldiers began to lay out strips of cloth that were packed with shaped charges. With only the occasional glance up at their compatriots, they soon created a tidy square in the roof. “Alright, Talons.” Bryce transmitted the conversation on an open channel that the stormtroopers. “Vertical breach and entry in 30 seconds. We blow the roof, pop flashbangs and move in. Remember, these people are rocking disruptors. Bad rate of fire, limited ammo capacity, but they’ll be motivated. They know they’ve got a death sentence for using those things. Ready, stormies?” “Stormtrooper Scouts at the ready, Captain.” The clipped Caridian accent came with a hint of annoyance at the old Rebel term for the infamous white-clad soldiers. “On my mark,” Bryce ticked down the seconds on her fingers and approached the square of ribbons. She took a deep breath, the sound of her own breath sounding unnaturally loud in the confines of her vacuum-proof helmet. “Three, two, one, mark.” A deafening crack and a shriek issued as the charges detonated and cut a square of duracrete free from the roof, falling for nearly a second before it shattered with a crash that the deafened shock trooper could feel through her boots. Bryce and Tros tossed in their flashbangs underhanded--and Bryce jumped in, her armor’s repulsorlifts slowing her descent. That was fortunate--the Talon had misjudged the height of the warehouse, and the drop of nearly twenty meters would have shattered her legs, rather than merely staggering under the weight of a full combat load. Visibility was reduced to vague outlines and lights in the choking dust of the shattered permacrete. She took a pair of steps forward and felt a light impact on her back--one of her Talons had just landed behind her. A vague shape was directly in front of her, only thirty meters away. No lightsaber--probably a shouldered rifle, and not one of the short-barreled carbines that the stormtroopers favored. Her carbine snapped up with a burst of three shots that struck the sapient in their foot, leg, and shoulders. They spun to the ground, hand squeezed around their weapon and triggering a single reflexive ground-- --and then all hell broke loose. That stray round struck one of the many storage racks that filled the warehouse, causing it to sag and spill its burden to the ground. The collapsing strack began to lean precipitously towards one side and the entire structure collapsed onto its neighbor--which just happened to be the storage rack immediately adjacent to Bryce and her Talons. At the same moment that the shock troopers glanced upwards and realized that they were about to be buried under tons of who-knows-what, the Imperial Scout Stormtroopers burst in behind Skyshatter and began to press the criminals from the opposite direction. One of them fell to a disruptor that had been stabilized at their point of entry, his death avenged almost immediately by a well-aimed blaster that sent the Shistavenan plummeting from the ceiling. The Talons, meanwhile, sprinted for the end of this corridor formed by the rows of storage racks. At least, their leader ran, closely followed by Jansen Vor. Her second-in-command, however, took note of an unoccupied gap on the collapsing rack and stepped through it, calmly allowing the entire structure to fall to ruin around him and emerging totally unscathed amidst the debris.
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  37. Lok smirked briefly as Bryce's comm was received loud and clear. Running up a escalating stack of crates, Lok took to the roof tops of the warehouses with sweat beading down his brow before being wisked away into the streaming air. "Roger-Wilco." The Onderonian Imperial Knight responded mid leap as he cleared one roof to the other in bounds, a brief thought that he likely look rocketed in appearence. "I'll see if I can sense anything up ahead at your location." The Force was beginning to take its toll upon the Knight as he delved even deeper into his reserves, expanding his mind across the battlefield to garner Intel. He could sense Talon Squadron, as well as Ruin and Fera, and even Escort Team Four. But the enemy felt blocked from his sight. Instinctually, he felt a coldness to the Force. And this didn't sit right with him. Stopping briefly, Lok settled his gaze on the distant Talon Squadron across the rooftops, the distant sounds of battle drowning out the quiet of the night and the roar of the Interceptors twin engines filled the skies. It was hard to focus his mind, but he had to. He didn't like the feeling he felt within the Force, and he didn't want to barge in blind and put either him or Talon Squadron in harm's way. So he had to focus deeper. Feeling his mind wander, he visually scoped the Force as his thoughts scanned the ground below and fought to see what his eyes could not. Something dark and sinister was present and it pulled at his thoughts and countered his focus. So Lok poured himself more into the Force, slowing his breathing and steading his heartbeat to tune his mind's eye. Warehouse Three was well warded, the intent of the Dark Side permeating like a fog rolling in over his eyes. He pushed farther, walking his mind within the dense fog and searching for answers. And that's where he saw it. Almost all the hostages were dead, lifeless carcasses spread apart sporadically as the inhabitants within callously stood over them. There was fear within, most of the seven or so sentients housing knowledge of the Imperial hunt for them, but one stood atop and alone. That was the darkness he felt. A being with no care for life and no regard for self preservation. Lok could feel his intent permeating. He held no false hope of survival and held no care. He wanted death. And the Disruptors were his reasons. He intended on carrying out terrorist plots across the Galaxy and a few were already in place. Lok could feel his anger flared by the darkness he felt in the Shistavanien's heart. Could feel his disgust at the Alien's beastial nature of using a Non-Human's Rights Activists group as his personal excuse to slaughter and terrorize. And it was about to end. Comming @Johanna Bryce, the hatred was evident in his voice. "Skyshatter to Talon Leader. You've got seven plus hostiles within. Two Hostages breathing. Be careful. We've got one with a death wish. I'm going in hot. Use me as a distraction." With no more words spoken, Lok, with determination in his eyes and fueled by anger, leap down from the rooftop and set his eyes toward the warehouse. Outside there was a small lift that sat alone. Whatever sentinels had once stood as guards had long taken refuge within, so Lok took the opportunity to make his approach in the darkness of the warehouse district. Mustering his strength, he sent the lift tearing through the side wall of the warehouse with enough force to shred steel framing as his lightsaber stayed silent. He had only one intent. Give the Shistavanien what he wanted. The rest were gifted to Talon Squadron.
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  38. Zeris' eyes narrowed by a fraction of an inch as she watched the native Felucian approach. Tough, determined, disciplined...a fine example of a warrior upbringing characterized by a harsh environment. People like this were dangerous to fight, and even more dangerous to underestimate. Anyone who lived their life fighting against the odds knew how to even them. But it was his stance that caught her eye. Rear foot held further back than normal. Grip on spear wider, and angled upward several degrees more than necessary. This warrior is used to hunting large game. Very large. When the Mon Cal that Zeris presumed was Jedi Master Kil emerged, her attention broke away from the Felucian warrior and to her new prospective client. This one was...different from the other Jedi she'd already seen. Zeris couldn't put a word to the feeling, but for a moment she remembered living in the halls of the Echani colonists, walking with her adopted siblings, being given her first meal by her adoptive mother. She remembered living on the cargo freighter she'd stowed away on, grinning like a stunned idiot when the crew threw her an impromptu birthday party, or standing in disbelieving silence as the captain handed over her first pay. Then she remembered further back. She remembered a long bunkhouse on the edge of a mineshaft surrounded by thick snow and glaring sunlight. She remembered her first bed, carved up with a little girl's doodles. Her mother, cradling her. Her father, hugging her. Zeris blinked, and the memories faded, and she immediately understood why Jedi were so dangerous. Goodwill. This woman radiates goodwill. Keeping her composure, her mood already lapsing back into ennui, Zeris listened to what the Jedi had to say. She held up her arms, giving them a once over before flexing at the elbows. "I'm fine. And sure, I'll help. Come get me when you're ready." She started walking away, calling back, "Ship won't take off without me." _______________________________________________________ Zeris found the burnt out huts easily enough. They were black, ashen blots in what had once been a community that would have disappeared into the jungle if you looked at it from the wrong angle. Wooden beams, cracked and dark from fire, lay scattered across the burnt out frames of huts. Zeris considered the problem with the same care she'd examine a difficult bounty or dangerous opponent. The problem was he body wasn't *fully* upgraded. With her torso still flesh, bone, and blood, she had to be careful what she lifted or she could wrench her own spine or worse. Some of the lighter beams might be safely within her capabilities, but the larger ones would need a more careful approach. In the end, Zeris decided to go about it with a different (albeit just as direct) approach. Saying only "Master Kil sent me," as explanation to any curious onlookers, she approached the first large beam until she stood at its base. She checked where it was resting, what was resting on it, and rechecked three more times until she was sure she understood what she was looking at. Then, she drew back on fist and punched. The beam shuddered, as a crack shot up the center of the beam where she'd struck, following an existing grain that the fire had already forced to separate. The next punch struck the same spot, and several more cracks formed and lengthened. Then the next punch came. Then the next. Within seconds, a sound not unlike industrial equipment rang out through the jungle as Zeris' jackhammer fists took apart the beam, and it was soon followed by a splintering sound as the beam gave away and crumbled into the ash. Zeris moved along its length, and with several more sessions of rapid-fire strikes, reduced the whole beam to several smaller sections of splintered wood. She moved to the next beam, barely winded and her arms still at full capacity. Day was just getting started, and she had work to do.
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  39. The villagers watched carefully as a ship landed at their outskirts. Before this any aid had been caravanned through the jungles, mostly by animal or wagon, some by cautious speeder. The mechanized being gave them pause, sending a ripple of fear through the village. Such an automaton-abomination was all too clear a reminder of the faceless war machines and creations of the Sith that had sought to suppress them and drive them as slaves before them. Members of the Jungle Felucian warrior castes, this village had been hard pressed in the Sith onslaught, it was why Leena was there helping to tend to their wounded. Even after the battle, it was these skullblade wielding warriors who were the first to venture into the devastating mists looking for their people and tending to those they came across. So now, even as the one that looked to be a Sith dream come to fruition strode into their village, they met her with an envoy of regailed and painted combatants while from the trees and shadows a dozen plus more watched, their bows held to the ready. They sniffed at the air, sniffing the woman’s presence within the force itself; cautious to believe she meant them no harm. They had seen deceit masqueraded before them all too often. One particularly brave fellow stepped forward, a spear held guardedly in his hands, colorful feathers adorning the shaft where the poke met the razored edges of jagged durasteel salvaged from the jungle’ depths. —————————- “No no no.” Cane a voice from out of sight as a slight fishy Mon Cal in brown robes caked in blood and mud rounded the corner, carving a path through the even shorter native Jungle Felucians. “She is here for me.” A growl escaped the gathered warriors as their glinting eyes and blades shifted towards Zeris. Animalistic and predatory, it signaled an immediate dislike for the nee arrival. It was a reason. That was all they needed. ”No!” Leena’s voice carried over the cacophony with alarm. “With me! She is here WITH me, not, oh nevermind.” The Healer offered Zeris an exasperated smile as she rolled her eyes. “Welcome to the jungle,” she shrugged her shoulders making her way through the rest and brushing away the leader’s poison-tipped spear. “Miss Zeris Mons I presume? You made excellent time in getting here. We are still waiting for the others. I suspect they will be along any time. As you can see,” she held up her hands, “Things are busy around here. These warriors have been out helping other villages and areas that have been hard hit. Their village is still in pretty big disarray and they have several sick and wounded. If you wanted to stick around, you’d be most welcome. I’d be happy to take a look at those,” she gestured to Zeris’ cybernetic limbs as she began to walk back deeper into the devastated village. It was apparent that there was still a lot of cleaning up to do and that the locals were making the best of the situation. “Make sure they’re synced right or even see about growing you some skin or new arms and legs. When time allows of course. Is there any chance you would want to go and heft a few fallen beams from some collapsed huts on the east side of the village? They haven’t had the time what with going out every day and nursing their own. Besides,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning in towards the mercenary, “they are wirey and strong, but it will take a half dozen of them with pulleys and winches working all day to clean up those firebombed community buildings”
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  40. As the shuttle transitioned back into realspace, Darth Nyrys was immediately struck by a very different aura emanating from the world below. Sure there were ancient echoes of a nearly forgotten empire, but from the ashes was erupting a new and visceral sensation. Despite the presence of so many warships, the planet seemed fully intact, and not another victim of boundless destruction. The music in the darkness here was alien, not the familiar songs of the Sith, but the melodies could be changed to serve their purpose. Upon landing, she could feel the wondrous glory of honorable martial battle in resonant tones that made her heart soar. There was both fire and ice in the ether, casting the world in beautiful dissonance through their disparity. Balance was the pursuit of stoned philosophers, those who walked in the world knew that greatness was born of conflict and the clashing of opposites. She approached the Sith command center feeling revitalized, the turgid waters of depression evaporating away as her warrior’s heart sang. Perhaps among these Sith she would find truer kin than the scheming courtiers on Naboo. Stillness gave way to a torrent of emotions, and the weight left the heft of her blade as she entered the current both as the warrior and the river. A Sith warrior with a skillfully crafted greatsword was finishing his report to another Sith as she entered. “As long as the honorable combatants were found and overcome, that is what matters. They are the stone upon which we sharpen our blades. Refugees sap the resources and energy of our enemies, and provided that our soldiers fight with vigor and resolve, spread stories of our glory and might.” “So tell me, who amongst our number fought well here so that there deeds might be commended?”
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  41. Darth Nyrys found no joy in the celebrations or the banter. Naboo had been the resultant blaze of the buildup of too much aimless corruption and rage within the order. While such things were tools of the Sith, they needed to be handled properly, the way the sorcerers conducted their strange alchemies with volatile and strange humours. The taste of ashes and pungent sickly sweet rot pervaded the air and the food, offering no joy from the spoils of victory. A more intact Naboo would have been quite the crowning jewel in the Empire’s journey of conquest, a place of art, culture, and beauty, but there was something cursed about this place that brought out the worst in the Sith. It was Emperor Palpatine’s birthplace, perhaps he had scarred it in some way, or it had scarred him until he was the madman that the galaxy would eventually cower before. She left the banquet hall in a pensive state, having nothing else to say to the assembled Sith. The coming storm would measure each of them in ways that they never had to contend with under Exodus’s rule, such was the nature of the slow moving poison that is success. The shortsighted among them would think less of her for it, but the wise would see the strength gained from tribulation and struggle. She had once wondered what great monument or temple she would leave behind upon reaching her time of greatness, but now it seemed more important to carve and shape the Sith themselves more so than any stone or metal. Upon reaching the shuttle pad she saw that she was not the only one ready to leave Naboo. Ca’aran was the anchor that kept her from fully falling into the abyss during her darker moments, the flickering candle that made her a conqueror rather than a reaver. Without him she might have convinced herself that she enjoyed the taste of ash and blight, that the galaxy deserved such things as a consequence for the wrongs that had been done to her. Instead, she was a righteous devil. “Headed my way, soldier?” she asked, the question attempting to bring some levity to her overcast heart, but only partially succeeding. “I am told that we have taken Lehon, and I wish to see what state it is in, whether or not we have enough left of it to proceed with the plan.” The shuttle departed, leaving behind the festering wound that was Naboo. As the ship reached orbit she could still see the dust and smoke from her own dramatic entrance into the battle. Her hands were by no means unsoiled by the conflict, the rage of the Sith being a wildfire that spread like a spiritual sickness from one Sith to another. That wasn’t fair though, that was shifting the blame. No matter what darkness plagued her, it was still her hand that cast the spear…
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  42. Vox felt the blade glide in front of Alcmène. Not so much the weight but the lack of contact vacant from it, while he had a generalized idea as to using such a weightless weapon it compared nothing to the real metal of a blade. And that was what he was missing it seemed, real weight, and these Lightsabers were tricky to utilize. He had the rest of his lifetime to figure these things out however Vox also had the feeling he would need to learn these tricks sooner than later. Of course, it mattered when the Human spun and kicked the Trandoshan on the mat below. He had felt the pulse of the Force through that blow and it was much harsher than anticipated. But he didn't complain, and though Alcmènes hand was grasp he did most the getting up and recomposed himself. Vox was eager, but he was more focused on fighting someone much smaller than he was, not the many warriors he had trained with. This one was could easily use his size against him, and that was going to change. Vox eased himself and allowed the Force to creep in once more, and in an instant Alcmène attempted to struck again with her foot. He let the Force cradle him back as the foot passed by, however Alcmène came again this time trying to jab the lizard in his neck with his saber. Vox again took another step back and and spun his own blade around to knock the opponents aside, he then took a step forward and swiped with his saber at the woman's waist level; being such a lightweight sword, he was able to quickly start an offensive, yet something still missing. He felt only half of his attack, as if there wasn't enough aggression in his speed. Regardless of that fact, Vox had known his counter would either be dodged or blocked. He allowed the Force to guide his instincts and senses of the enemy before him, and if she so chose to strike back he would be ready this time.
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  43. This time, Noto did not react as quickly as he would have. His excitement from earlier had distracted him, and the drone moved much quicker then he would have anticipated. And this time, Noto was unbalanced. Yipe! Ah!” Noto exclaimed then scrambled slightly as he fell over backwards, clutching at where the training remote struck. Being slightly on a hill, Noto continued to tumble backwards until he eventually came to rest at the bottom. Noto pulled off the blindfold with a huff and for once, gave a look towards Genesis that was easy to read: a slight glare. “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even ready for that…”
    1 point
  44. The first arrow splashed through the edges of her tunic, and then her lightsaber moved, a brilliant white line that intersected the next three. The subconscious power of a Jedi Master. Death had come to Vernza-Torrah, and Aidan had brought it to the Darksider. All around them the power of the enemy faded away. The bodies that lay across the room shuddered as the power dropped from them. Those holding bows dropped them, and the world returned to what it had once been. A dirty backwater world. And it wopuld stay that way, for this era at least, the stains of Chaos were wiped away. SHe spat out another mouthful of blood and then grinned as she began to draw on the force in a different way. Not the power of death over life, but of life itself. A healing power that was special to the consulars. She was no Leena Kil, but it did not take five minutes to stop the bleeding. And then there would be patchwork to be done on her face, but that could wait until later. “Aidan?” She asked. Her voice both fearful and hopeful.
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  45. With some great deal of apprehension Sandy pressed the holopanel and set the turbolift on its rocketlike journey towards the depths of the Red and Black. The apprehension was soon proven true as the older woman whipped a dataspike into the panel. She took a step back and felt a frown begin to creep across her face. Was this really the way to deal with this? Surely a more diplomatic approach, if not just a straight and simple appeal to the Empress of the Imperial Remnant was the correct course here, not a subtle infiltration mission into the heart of their allies base. A base whose doors had been willingly opened for them. She did not like the feeling that shivered down her spine, but she kept quiet and watched as Aidan’s grandmother brought the turbolift into the bowels of old Nar Shaddaa. A place that held the secrets of a thousand years of slavery. A place where she had seen the bodies of slavers dumped like refuse into the deep dark of the yawning mouth of Nar Shaddaa. She shivered. The Imperials had called it a justifiable solution to what to do with those that had profited from the enslavement of sentient life. She had not stopped the slaughter, no one had. The hutts and their ilk deserved the fate that the firm hand of the remnant had given them. Had it been justified? Looking back it felt like it had been. The sight of child slaves strapped with detonite collars, still woke her up at nights, and seeing those that put them there gunned down, did not trouble her sleep at all. She swallowed her memories and feelings and stepped out into the darkness at the heels of a woman she did not truly know. Such was the way of the Jedi. "I have your back." And her hand rested on the handle of her lightsaber.
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