saberforce

Tros kept his buy'ce on as he glanced at the hand from the woman dressed in her own beskar'gam that looked very worn in. Take her hand in a shake, he slowly nodded his head, choosing to instead keep his own opinions and thoughts to himself. He did however listening very carefully and intently upon the offer that was given. Duxun.... That jungle of a hell hole is a hot spot again... Once he was sure she was done with he offer, he spoke rather slowly at first, letting his own caution show. "I have recently been injured to the point of being unable to perform too much physical actions. So my role in raiding would need to be limited. Training on the other hand... that is something I can do very well. If you want soldiers that can shoot and shoot very well, I'm the best. What does it pay?"

Tros sat upon the bridge of the Swift Justice and allowed for himself to get familiar with the controls of his new ship. Even now as the ship broke atmosphere, he kept his buy'ce up to avoid the glare of the twin suns that were already attempting to blind newcomers to the harsh planet. Even has he piloted his ship towards the Wayfarer's Rest Casino, he could feel some pain still lingering within his body near his lungs as they still weren't ready for full use. Touching down, he made sure that he was as armed as he needed to be for meeting a contact like this for a contract. Normally, blasters always came out during these meetings. Shooting on the other hand, was something that may not happen. Walking through the casino towards Suite 32A, he kept his ears open for this person he was supposed to meet. What kind of a haran name is Carmen Sandiego and why would they choose this place? Luckily enough, at least Tros' knew where on the world was Carmen Sandiego. Just not the rest of the other details. Finding the suite, he walked in and began to look around to see what sort of stuff was present for him to get into, or if there were any traps.

Tros found himself now looking at a BR-9 Charger, Pursuer-class frigate that was made by MandalMotors. The order was put in by Bas'lan to be given to Tros for his troubles of his life without having a buir. After he was informed that it was fully paid for a anonymous donor, he found himself walking through the ship, allowing himself to fully experience what his new ship would hold. The cargo hold, which would be great for holding weapons and any bounties that would be needed. Finally, he came to the bridge, sitting down in the pilots chair, he began to warm to engine up and prime it. As he was pulling away from the shipyard, he sent the first official name of his ship. Swift Justice. He then programed the coordinates to have him go to Tatooine, where he would meet the Red Dawn for a contract...

Tros ignored Xae as she turned her own attention to her comm, which he figured was about some jetii related thing. As he continued to put his own beskar'gam back on, Bas'lan walks dup closer and point blank asked him a few questions. "Where will you go? You're still not recovered enough to return fully to your line of work..." "I don't need your concern. The Red Dawn Initiative has some contracts out. I plan to do some work for them until I am well enough to actually do beroya stuff again. Until then, I will take your words and Xae's and store them until I actually need them. For now, I need the credits and movement." Tros finally put his own buy'ce over his head and walked over to the door and stopped just short of opening it. "Xae, take care of yourself. You can get my personal comm frequency from Bas'lan. Bas'lan... Keep your head up. Frond... You don't talk very much. I like you. You are always welcome to travel with me if you want." Tros then opened the door and used the comm within his buy'ce to let the Red Dawn Initiative know that he was looking for anything that would pay well and then asked for a meeting place. He did all of this as he walked towards MandalMotors to look and pick up this ship that Bas'lan had got for him.

Tros turned and looked at Xae as she put her hand upon his shoulder. He was able to tell that she was doing something, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. His own attention turned towards Bas'lan though, as he spoke. "Verd'ika, such information is irrelevant to you anyways. Your sister is right. This meeting didn't happen by chance. Whatever anger that has risen between us during those days are not worth fighting about now. You hate me because I joined Kyr'tsad, a choice that I made, one that proved to be my slight undoing. But I do not regret it. Out of that choice came Xae here. And in time, you will find that my decision wasn't all that wrong." Tros glared at Bas'lan for a quick second before shrugging it all off. He didn't bother to make the fight, as there was some truth in the past was not worth fighting over. Feeling a surge of strength, Tros swung his body to sit at the edge of his bed. "While this whole conversation is nuhunla, I'd much rather not argue with life choices. You are right Bas'lan, your path gave you what you needed. In turn, it gave me what I needed most. I have no clue what it gave Xae, outside of a desire to follow those Di'kutla jetii ways. We're one big happy family with a bunch of problems, just like the rest of the galaxy." It was then that he pushed Xae's hand off of his shoulder and stood up, taking off the chords and other things that were attached to himself. "But since our problems are in the past, why don't we find new ways to piss each other off. I'll start." Tros picked up his comlink and sent a message inquiring about the jobs that Red Dawn was offering. "I'm taking a job and leaving planet. I haven't had credits come in for a while, and I spent most of what I had tracking Xae down. So unless someone has something else to say...."

Bas'lan listened very intently upon the conversation taking place and showed a great deal of his own by keeping this own anger flares down. Tro’solus had been hurt by choices made by everyone around him, and he was just as bad as the rest who made such choices without a single regard to how it would effect him. He kept his head down for a moment as Xae responded to both her brother and the tree thing. It was then that he jumped in and spoke. "Tro’solus was hit by a sniper riffle in his lungs. By now, death isn't going to take him... Unless you are referring to something completely different. He needs time to just recover. Although... I do have more bad news for him. The Orar was destroyed. You are shipless for the moment. But do not let that despair you, I have put in a special order for a new ship for you. Consider it an investment in your life for all of the things I missed out on..." Tros kept his eyes on Xae, until he heard the Tree respond, to which Xae called him Frond. Even as his Bas'lan spoke, Tros kept his own eyes upon the tree looking creature named Frond. "Can you all please stop calling me that. I'm Tros. I haven't used the name Tro’solus in over two decades...." He then took his eyes off of everyone and instead turned it to a screen that was showing an advertisement for the Red Dawn needing people. If he was able to recover well enough to not be under such pain for walking, he would have to see what sort of jobs they could give to him. He needed the credits. He then turned back to Bas'lan after a long pause. "Is bribery your new angle? - I'm sorry. I'll do my best to hold my tongue and thoughts checked in the presence of Xae-Lin and Frond. Maybe I should keep myself from talking by asking you a question that would require a long answer. How the fierfek do you know the details of my injuries and the loss of my ship?"

Tros wasn't happy about being restrained slightly, but since he was still very weak and in pain, there was literally no point in him fighting against his sister. He also had to be a bit careful, as without his buy'ce, his facial expression would be far much more readable then what he was used to. Letting a few moment pass by, he slowly laid back down and locked eyes with Xae-Lin, more out of refusing to acknowledge Bas'lan in the room. The red haired man barely moved during all of this, but kept his own eyes very keenly upon both of his surviving children and how they interacted with each other. After what most of seemed like an eternity passed by, Tros felt like he could answer his sister's question she asked him. "I sought you out to see if there was any truth to my findings. Riella had within his own possession a token that Bas'lan carried. When he passed away, the medallion was given to me by Brexton Strol, a family friend. He informed me that Riella had begun to track down pieces of Bas'lan's past and believed that he may have offspring that were dar'manda. After a few weeks went by, I took off the find if there was any truth, as the last of my known bui'tsad was gone. I didn't like the idea of being alone... family wise." It was a very vulnerable moment for Tros. He had never openly expressed himself as openly to anyone who didn't know him for more then ten years. The fact that he was wounded both mentally and physically might have some part to play in that, and it looked like fate was weaving something together now that Bas'lan and his offspring/Tros' half sister were here.

Through some very hazy eyes, Tros found himself staring up and tree that appeared to have a face on it. He couldn't tell if he was still in the forest or not. But he knew very well where he was at upon hearing words come out of the trees mouth followed very closely by Xae, his half-sister. "The fierfek!" Tros tried to sit up, but was hit immediately with a strong sensation of pain within his chest. It was then that he remembered getting hit by a sniper. Trying to sit up, but couldn't muster any strength at the moment, he turned himself on his side to see if Xae was really there. He then spotted her blue eyes and auburn hair. He only really caught half of what she had said, about meeting him and the war going badly. He had settled enough to hear the last part though. She found dad. He couldn't tell if she was saying it because she recovered his body off of Coruscant, or some other way. "You found dar'buir?" He then heard the tree speak, saying simply 'Stand there.' It was enough to have him turned his eyes towards the corner of the room. While he wasn't wearing his armor, and no buy'ce to cover his face, Tros knew him. Almost immediately his own blood pressure rose. "Slana'pir!"

Bas'lan felt a little bit of a sting in her words, although, he knew that she didn't mean to let it be there. The sting was his own doing. His own failures and shortcomings. He words, while very true to the heart of a Mandalorian, left him feeling more worried about his son. Finally, he looked at the tree, who seemed to be a bit more worried about Tro’solus than that of the reunion that was taking place. Letting a lot of his own emotions sink, he finally lowered his own head and looked away from Xae and the tree looking thing. "I guess I should show you to his room then, ge'tal'ika." With that said, he turned and began to lead them, still very secretly of his own identity from the rest of the population, towards the hospital that Tro'solus was at.

Bas'lan lowered his head for a moment and allowed for a moment to pass by so that he could think of a goo answer to give ge'tal'ika.After the moment passed, he lifted his head with his own anger seeming to be washed out. "Xae... dar’buir means no longer father. It's a term used when a child divorces their parent legally in our culture... It began a while ago. After Tro'solus was born, I took back to bounty hunting. At least, that's what I told my family. What really happened and was uncovered latter, was that I joined with Death Watch. We had a few raids that took place in the outer rim. One of them drew attention from those who could stop the rise of the Death Watch. We all took to go to ground for a while to avoid attention. My place of of choice lead me to Dathomir. It was there that you were conceived and born. I had left the planet by the time I had found out that you were born, let alone that you were conceived. It was during the time I was away that my family here found out that I had joined Death Watch and disowned me. So naturally, finding out about you lead me to want to find you and raise you, as a Mandalorian. But your mother... had other options." Bas'lan let the rest die out... He figured that she would be able to figure out the rest of the story. He knew Tro'solus would have his own story to fill in, with heavy influences from his mother.

Bas'lan got a bit angered by her words, his own daughter... accusing him of not keeping his own promises. "Alright ge'tal'ika, listen well. Don't you ever assume you know me or why I do things. I have my own reasons and you are in no position to question them. Those chakaar on Dathomir kept me from returning, but I watched you as best as I could. On my return to fetch you, I had found out that the village had a massacre, one that was assumed to have taken your life..." It was only now that the red from his own face began to slowly fade, but only slightly. He was still mad that she accused him of not honoring his word. But even more so... she had found out about his other family. That one stung. It stung even worse that Xae had mentioned that it was Tro'solus who had found her. That boy is too good... "Tro'solus Ardell, is the youngest male offspring of mine. He was third born, and took my... choices that hardest. But to answer your question, yes. You have a brother. You were born last to me, and during a time of... work that lead for my home family to fall apart shortly after your birth. They declared me dar'buir, so I left to find and raise you. That's when I was forbidden from entering the village to see you." Bas'lan hated that this was how the two had found each other. Through their own means. If anything, they would be united by hatred of him, which was a fragile thing at best. But then the tree looking thing that came along wither spoke, and it drew a raised eyebrow from the older Mandalorian. With a face that could have spoken volumes, he responded to the speaking tree. "He's in there, recovering. Took a shot to his lungs by a sniper. Ge'tal'ika, where did you get this... talking thing?..."

Bas'lan looked his daughter in the eye and thought ver her story for amount before he responded to statement/question at the end. After he was sure he believed her, he made a head bob towards a narrow side street that wasn't occupied. It was the very same one that he had used to sneak in to see if Tros was alive. Upon him reaching there and his daughter following as well, he turned and snapped at her rather quickly. "This place just finished up a war. Very bloody. Which begs a question," His voice got lower, almost to the point of a whisper. "... Why are you here? I know damn well enough that it wasn't to find me. All clues should have pointed you away from Mandalorian space..."

Bas'lan could only stare at her as she fumbled through who he was. A single teared began to roll down his face as he knew it was her. His daughter. She was alive after all of these years. He had thought her dead, much like his own son lying in a hospital bed believed him to be dead. I guess it's just the circle of life for this family. Believe everyone else is dead. After a moment passed, he finally registered that there was a tree looking thing next to her and it was pointing at him. He was too fixated on seeing his own daughter alive that he didn't even hear the tree call her a Jedi. "I thought you were dead... How on earth did you survive it?..."

With a quick duck around, Bas'lan moved quietly in black trousers and a white shirt, sporting a Mandalmotors jacket, as he was careful to not let his true nature be discovered. Being found as Kyr'tsad after the battle would have surely gotten him shot and killed where he stood. He normally wouldn't have even risked it, but since his last son, the last heir was apart of the battle, he needed to make sure that he was still alive. Despite the fact that Tros would shoot him where he stood upon seeing him, as his own son declared him as dar'buir, such a thought was no where near as important as seeing him one last time. His only hope was that he was not in a body bag. Moving quietly through the hospital, taking slow glances at wards to see where he may find his son, he caught glimpse the face... while not conscious, his own son had a very distinct face that he could pick up from anywhere. He took a very long moment to observe him from the window. He then whispered, "Ni partayli, gar darasuum Tro'solus Ardell." After a long moment passed by, Bas'lan turned and left the hospital as quietly and discreetly as he could, to head back to the spaceport to leave for the unknown regions. But as he walked, he spotted something from a glance that made him stop dead in his own tracks..."ad'ika?..." He lingered... watched. There was no way. She was dead. She had died long ago. But even more so, why would she be here? The two held no knowledge of each other, both barely even knew him enough to fully understand the truth of their pasts... Is she real? It was something that Bas'lan couldn't quite understand or get past. He needed to find out. Slowly, he began to move towards her, close enough to touch her, to which he did. Right on her shoulder. He needed her to turn around and look him in the eye so that he would know the truth...

Tros honestly didn't remember much about what had happened after he felt the very sharp pain hit his lungs. Breathing was hard, still was. In fact, it almost burned to even take short breathes out of his own nostrils. There were moments of bright lights, darkness, and a general feeling of despair. He didn't need to actually feel his beskar'gam, he knew it had been blowout to some degree by the sniper. The blaster bolt must have struck just right to have gone all the way through him and his beskar'gam. With each moment he could see lights and other things, he was in pain. He was in pain while out of consciousness, but it seemed to be far worse when not. For now, all he could do was to wait though the pain and hope that the medics would be able to revive him to a point of mobility again. He couldn't care less about anything else. For all he knew, everyone who knew him and cared about him was dead. Maybe death is what I deserve... That was his last thought he had before he slipped for his final time into a state of unconsciousness....

With each step he took, his own white hot anger grew a little bit more then what it was at. Tros could feel the ground beneath his feet as he moved in the retreat with the rest of the verda towards the outer fringes of the forest. Some were still within, fighting personal battles and engaging the aru'e where they stood. He would have liked to stay and fight, but he was also smart enough to know that within his own state of mind, he wouldn't help anyone or do any good. He would end up like Caen, Raeshe, Riella... all of those of whom he was close to. Dead. And he was better off alive to his fellow Mando'ade. So for now, he kept his marching with the rest of the survivors of the forest encounter. As the group neared the edge of the forest, closer to Keldabe where the fighting had started when his HUD displayed alarming news. The spaceport had been overrun at the city. Early reports coming in were attributing the take over to Kyr'tsad. Fierfek those bastards. His own pace picked up from a jog to almost a flat out sprint towards the city now. Mid step, he launched his jetpack and took to the air, barking out loudly for the rest of those still on the retreat to the city to move with haste. This was not how I thought this day would go. Using what last burst of fuel within his own jetpack, he hurried himself towards the spaceport, although, his jetpack only got him to the edge of the city before it finally ran out of fuel. Landing with a thud of his own armored feet hitting the pavement of the city, he took off running towards the now growing sound of blaster fire, as those who remained in the city to safeguard it were now fighting back against the invasion. As he approached the nearest square that held some fighting, Tros lifted his blaster riffle and began to take precise shots at each one of those that had commited their ways to the Kyr'tsad. And with each shot, he would have made a case to be placed in honor and grouping of the ori'ramikad, for each shot was deadly and left nothing to be cleaned up be another vod. As soon as he had finished in the square, a few of those that were pinned down asked for him to clear the way southeast, as they would have a better chance of getting the upper hand on spaceport situation from such an angle. Listening and heeding their words, he moved to lead the three others back towards the spaceport, quickly removing whatever sort of opposition that was in their way. As they turned the corner, the spaceport finally came into view. Fire and smoke filled the area, and a few other verda were off to his left keeping up a steady line of fire. A few of them fell in the short two seconds that Tros used to scan the area. His white hot anger from losing Caen moments ago began to fill him again, and this time, he had a full blaster clip. There will be vengeance in this hour. With that very thought, Tros began to run towards the back of the line of the invading Kyr'tsad, having his own blaster riffle lifted up and pouring a very steady and deadly arc of fire into the lines, forcing them to break up a bit. The breaking up of the steady line of Kyr'tsad allowed for the verda still defending the city to take better positions and take advantage of the now surprised Death Watch, who were forced to leave their ground to get better cover from a two prong attack now being placed upon them. Tros kept his blaster riffle up and steady as he slowly moved on towards the main section of ground that if taken, would allow for the rest of the vod to take the spaceport back. As he walked, he could feel his own white hot anger growing a little bit more with each step and each Death Watch body falling and hitting the ground. He kept it up until he felt something that was hot, but not his own anger. He suddenly found himself on the ground, feeling a searing pain rip through his entire body. With each breath, he found it far more difficult to even breathe. He looked down to see blood slowly dripping out of his chest nearest to his lungs. Breathing becoming increasingly hard and painful with each inhale. Panic was setting in, which didn't help his now racing heart that seemed to struggle to keep up with the need that his lungs were creating. Based upon his own knowledge of the situation, Tros would have to have guessed that a sniper hit him in the lung or very near to them. He was suffering from a collapsed lung. Even as he realized what had happened, he found his eyes shuffling in-between seeing pure white and black colors until he just couldn't hold on any longer. He passed out on the street, leaving him somewhere between twenty to forty minutes to be rescued before he would die...

From the instances that Caen died, Tros couldn't think, couldn't move... He was paralyzed to some degree. While not physically, mentally for sure. He wasn't really sure how, but he had managed to move himself closer to the group of Vode that had gone in with them. While there wasn't too much to go off of from those around him, he was very certain that his blank stared with eyes blinking every other second was obvious to everyone else. He wanted to shake the feeling off, to move past everything and keep himself going. But he just simply couldn't. If this is what feeling numb is like, I hate it. The aaray he was feeling was all emotional for sure, but Tros wanted it replaced with something more physical. Right now, all he could do was stare off... his eyes had locked on to one of those whom had been on the other side... one who had let Caen get killed. With a sudden outburst, Tros' own voice reached the level of an extremely loud scream followed by him lifting his blaster and held down the trigger until it clicked empty of it's rounds. "Shabuir!" Upon the blaster needing to be reloaded, he took out his last grenade and chucked it in the general direction with another loud shout. "Slana'pir! Skanah" Tros then began to fall back with he rest of the group, now taking his time to reload his weapon. Whatever numbness he was feeling in his own body was no being replaced with nothing but a white hot anger. Had he been given the chance, he would have flat out charged the enemy lines with blaster firing at a high rate. But for now, the nearest brush and trees would have to be good enough as his victims of his hot white anger.

Tros watched as Caen blasted forth ignoring the stand down orders. Feeling very flustered by his cyare'se actions. Quickly pushing strongly on his feet, he charged the front line with blaster riffle firing off in a rapid fire mode. In his charge, he only half heard Mellanie and Jaesko cry out the charge for the rest to rush the lines. Tros really only cared about getting to Caen in one piece. He had already lost too many vod in the past year. He wasn't sure that he could lose another, especially one like Caen, whom Tros was sure he would say openly riduurok to Caen. He needed him back alive. He was now more certain and determined that him and the verda would and could win this battle skirmish. They had to.

Tros kept his focus clear, finding new targets as quickly as he could, pulling the trigger and moving on. He was about thirty feet back from he rest of the other Vode attacking, him and Caen both hidden within the trees keeping up some sniper support. He was trying to find clear sights on the location of the ritual, but with crazed men jumping out with forms of grenades and detonators, his priority seemed to be focused on keeping them far away from the charging Mando'ade that would come to an explosive end if he couldn't keep them down. It was then that he thought he saw something on the HUD of his buy'ce... "Caen... did you see what I think I'm seeing?" There was at first only a comm click as a response, followed by a loud explosion as Caen took a shot at someone who was holding a grenade up high. The shot took out the group surrounding him. Quickly after the loud explosion, Caen's calm and soothing voice hit his ears loudly. "Yeah, a real demagolka type shit going on. Do we have the support to provide a rescue sweep?" It was a question that even Tros couldn't and wouldn't answer. The size of the ritual site was smaller compared to the other, and he was certain that he was only seeing half of it. "We're not high enough to make that call. We'll have to take it slow. Keep laying cover fire, but we need to help the other push. They can survive without sniper support from here." Almost as soon as he finished, he took the sniper configuration off his blaster riffle and began to just charge the frontline. This would be no time or heroics by anyone. They simply needed to shut the ritual down by any means. Since they did not have the best sight lines from sniper support to see the whole battlefield, they were all better off making the charge. With each step upon the ground, adrenaline kicked in for Tros and he moved himself quicker and faster towards the front to help aid the others. It was then that he heard the familiar sound of a jetpack. Caen was blasting ahead of the group. "Caen Fuller, this is no time to be a hero! Stand down!"

Tros began to make a strong march towards the location he was given, when he had a sudden display on his HUD that came from Mand'alor. They were orders to split and head for the second site. Him, Caen, and the few remaining from Clan Ardell were to rush the site to the left on the north east side of Keldabe, along with Clan Vevuts and the jetii. With a click send back as his own acknowledgement, he lead the way for the rest to follow as he began to move very quickly, yet still very cautiously with all of the traps that could still be sprung on them on their way. Using his own scanners and not trusting the reports of the Seekers that were coming in, Tros wanted to make sure that the group arrived with enough strength to put an end to whatever these aruetiise were doing. As they approached the outer perimeter of the secondary ritual site, Tros bent down and gave Caen a signal to setup a sniper shot at the more deadly enemies that would bring heavy blaster fire down upon the rest of the strike force. On his mark, he and Caen both made their shots, while sending notifications to the others and the jetii to make their charge...

Tros and Caen were using their jetpacks to move over the forest, which they were now receiving word through their HUD's that the way had booby traps all over. With their comms already linked, Tros let Caen know what he wanted for them to do. With a click acknowledgement on his display in his buy'ce, he powered his trusters hard to turn around and fly lower to the forest. As they did, both Vode used their flamethrowers to burn a path for the others to run through. Making sure that they stayed low enough to cause the ground to burn, but not too low that they might accidentally set traps off that could harm them as well. The two made it to the beginning stages of the others were they were mustering for the moment and had to shut off their jetpacks, as the fuel might be needed at a later point. Tros yelled as loud as he could, put also made sure to send it to everyone's HUD so that all knew the path was clear. "Utrel'a, stay in the charred ground!" Tros now turned and helped lead the way. He was also suddenly aware that the jetii was in the area with them, but decided that he couldn't afford to let his own personal feelings get in the way of the fight for Mandalore. They needed him.

Tros looked Caen in the eyes and was preparing his own response when suddenly his comlink through his buy'ce activated. "Vode this is Mand'alor. We have reports of a significant dark side event in the forest. If you're hearing this, regroup on the north side of the city. We're going to push into the enemy forces and shut down whatever is happening there. Let's get it done. Fett out." With a single eyebrow arched, he clicked in his own confirmation that he got the message from Fett. "No time to play around now, we can talk about our riduurok after we finish this battle. Mand'alor picked up something on the north forest area outside the city. Keep your weapons loaded and ready, let's move!" His voice was not quite, as Tros was just making sure everyone in the area knew that they were to be on the move towards the forest. As the he and Caen moved through the city to the north entrance, smoke could indeed be seen from afar in the forest. But it's not from fire...Curious. The thought of it being a smokescreen came to his own mind, but regardless of why it was on the battlefield, it needed to be conquered in order that they could win this war. As they approached the forest, Tros blasted into the air with his jetpack to get ahead of the rest of the Vode. As he did, he flew low enough to begin to use his flamethrower to see if the smoke was flammable, or if there was anyone hiding within the smoke... To his own surprise, Caen had followed him with very similar tactics.

Almost as soon as the word was given from Mellanie upon what they were to do, Caen turned and sat down along the edge of a wall and removed his buy'ce. Tros watched him for a moment and stared into his eyes. There was something very deep there that made his own heart flutter a bit. He wouldn't have a problem admitting what it was that he felt, minus for the fact that not everyone knew him. In fact, now outside of Caen, only Mand'alor could say that he knew Tros better, to which wasn't very well at all. This war had taken the last two vod who knew him, and turned one into a corpse and the other gained a very special riduurok with him. Perhaps Raeshe did exactly as she said she would at the beginning... Find me someone whom I could love. For a single moment, his eyes flashed some water as he thought upon her. Losing her hurt far worse then losing his actual tal'din. He felt grateful that his own buy'ce was still on and covering his face. Tros turned away and watched the others have their own interaction, Mellanie sharing an embrace with another who suddenly caught up with them. Tros figured that the power grid was about to become a new target hot spot for the next battle. After a moment passed, he swung his blaster riffle over his shoulder and removed his buy'ce. It was a bit tight and would need to be adjusted, as Raeshe had a much smaller head then his. He placed it carefully under his arm and turned to smile at Caen, but found him standing facing him, nose to nose. It was then that Caen forced Tros to remove all pride and leaned in and kissed him. After what seemed like an hour to Tros, Caen finally pulled away, gave a big smile. Tros was also smiling by this point, and a little red int he face. After ten seconds went by, Caen spoke the only words that needed to be spoken between them. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum"

Tros picked up some speed to run past Mellanie and Araac, leaving Caen behind for a moment as well. Right before he reached the corner, he could hear the sound of the large tank-looking thing that the Jetii brought with him to the battlefield absorbing some fire somewhere near to his location. As he turned the corner, he began to pour some fire from his blaster riffle into the troopers moving towards the power grid. His fire must of picked up the attention of the snipers on the rooftops, as a few shots went whining past him, binging down two of the aru'ela. Tros hit the ground in a slide, allowing for himself to make some cover fire and blast another of the troopers, bringing the count from ten to six. As he reached the other side of the street, Caen arrived and helped him clear the rest rather quickly so that Mellanie and Araac can get to the power grid safely. Once the street was clear, there was a loud thud as the tank continued to bring froth some havoc on the front lines. Standing up and turning towards the others, Tros made sure that his comlink was connected with he others. "Maybe we should aid the Jetii and his tank?... Where did he get such a loud thing anyways?" "Cui ogir’olar. It's making our lives easier." Tros looked at Caen and gave a quick nod. There was a lot of truth in the fact that the Jetii did indeed bring something that was making their time in the city far less painful and stressful. But it would no doubt draw the attention of troops in the city and have them withdraw to take it out. But then again, the power grid was still critical. He decided he would let Mellanie and Araac decide what they should do. "Either way, Kote, darasuum kote.

Tros felt a bit more duraanir towards the Jetii after his response, but didn't care much as the other, a vod, provided a bit more to his liking. She and the other with her pointed in the direction of a street. Caen and him began to run and follow suit, preparing for another fire fight, until the loud explosion struck. Tros was quick to do a thermal scan of the area, but heard Caen slowly get up and grunt. He was not as battle ready as he would have liked. Tros made sure to check on him as the other two made a quick scan. "I'm so sorry cyare, I am not as good as Raeshe and the burcyan you had with her..." Tros shook his head and made his rebuttal quick, knowing that they were still in a war zone. "I would rather atiniir with you here. I am very briikase to be tome. When this is all over, I want you as my riduur. Now Let's move!" Tros picked up the pace to keep up with the others. He was certain that the engagement was going to be a tough one, one that would bring forth a new challenge for him and Caen. As he ran, he pulled his A280 blaster riffle up and lined up a shot on one of the Sith troopers as he ran. Being slightly off his game, he had to take a few more shots then what he wanted, but the results were still the same. As he finished, he lowered his blaster riffle down and continued to scan the area thermally, which was a new feature he was still getting use to that Raeshe had on her buy'ce. It picked up something that he decided to shout at Caen and the other two. "Resol bah ta'raysh coming around the corner, be prepared!"