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Snake felt the sick joy of dark victory as it swelled in his elongated chest. This weak being would not stand against him; before he finished him off, he would ensure that this coward knew true, absolute, fear. Even as the Neimoidian’s fear subtly warped and twisted while he sought to force his memories of victory upwards into the light; Snake twisted his coils tighter. He would smother every resistance the petty businessman offered.


Had he vocal cords, Snake would have laughed at the being’s petty resistances; however, he did not. That did not stop his entertainment at the bein believing he could win.


Even as the mindscape that they were inhabiting deep in the bowels of Nok’s mind warped and twisted as Snake’s entire view was taken up by the sight of the sickly green things face, twisting with melting heat into that of a supposed fearsome predator.


Yet another victim to be consumed by my maw!


His foe’s voice echoed down the invisible connection that bound their minds; even if he could not understand the words, Snake knew that it was a challenge that was issued. It was what happened next, that took Snake by surprise; instead of resisting, Snake’s victim pulled Snake further down the rabbit hole. Into the darkness; Snake’s home, deeper and deeper, into visions of power. Instantly visages of stars rushing by, foreign worldscape after worldscape, each entirely different from the last.


And then, death. He could taste it, feel it, be consumed by it. Perhaps this two legged coward had something. Maybe, just maybe, he was not entirely worthless; maybe he had a use and that was why the more powerful one kept this green thing around; but Snake was the herald of death to any that stood before him. He had the power over life and death for any that he lay his eyes upon.


Snake’s venom dripping teeth twisted into a smile as he swirled deeper and deeper into Nok’s memories; each memory of power and conquest serving to give the massive serpent a look into the depths of who his opponent was; each one, a chance to find a weakness, a chance to exploit these chinks in the green one’s mental armor.


There it was, the chink, the weakness, buried beneath these visions of power that the Neimoidian pummeled his mind with: Power. His weakness was his power! Unlike Snake, Nok had sought out this power to cover his own fears. Snake possessed, and was, the power that Nok sought and that was the chink. Snake was what his foe feared; a nightmare in the deep. That emotion, Snake let flow through him, along the connection that bound their minds. He was better. He knew it and he knew that the Neimoidian knew it. Not a puppet or a puppetmaster, a ruler or a fighter, but a master, the master of all he could see.


Back away fool. Back away or you will die.


Nok’s memories continued to swirl, each vision of a glimpse of the powers of the universe that the green businessman sought to control. Fought for. Desired. And in each and every one, Snake planted his tightly coiled body, his maw open wide, venom dripping from each fang, daring the trespasser on his world to try and strike again; pushing back with his own mind, his own superiority over his world and all within in his domain, radiating wildly with a fiery consuming passion between their minds.



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Kuat City:


Sirens blared every few blocks, filling the entire city with a cacophony of screaming echoes that crisscrossed each other in a chaotic scream that muffled those of the people that were rapidly filling the streets. Inside the Kuat Drive Yards Information Repository, a single orange plated droid scurried about; the sounds of the sirens faintly whispering their telltale warnings through the thick duracrete coated durasteel walls that secured all manner of starship schematics and information as it related to the business of shipbuilding. Several silent warning lights at a variety of consoles flashed, signaling the unseen incoming forces of Sith conquerors.


KL83 rushed about, her feet clanked across the solid durasteel reinforced floors that supported the massive systems that cataloged the information of hundreds of years, thousands of designs, and countless productions and operations both on and off the books. A file pulled here, a switch pushed there, and a door secured between one room and another. KL83 knew the protocol. At least she thought she did. Before anything, she needed to ensure that the facility’s precious cargo was secured.


”A horrible time to take an extended lunch break and leave me here alone. Where is the security panel?”


“Hmmm . . .” her metallic voice hummed, mimicking the deep thought of her countless human and humanoid counterparts as she pondered where the security panel was. She knew this. She knew that she knew this.


”Where is it?”


Pausing mid step, a stack of files filling her extended arms, Kayle pondered and pondered for several moments, her mind audibly whirring before opting for another task.


These files need put away.


Pressing onwards, Kayle began to pull file discs from her stack and shove them, seemingly at random with an unknown organizational algorithm, into the countless computerized shelves.


”What am I doing? The alarms are going off.” Kayle reprimanded herself as she gently set the stack of files on the ground and scurried between stacks and stacks of electronic computerized and antique metallic shelving units to a large flashing panel on the wall: the security panel. Without a word, Kayle began to input the 28 digit aurebesh code, until the red flashing lights switched to a row of three solid glowing green lights and a feminine voice, that if Kayle was being honest, was a bit intimidating and decidedly uncalled for, echoed through the facility: “Security an Self Destruct Sequences Armed in 30 . . 29. . .28. . .27. . .26. . .25. . .24. . .23. . .22 . . .”


Turning, Kayle ran as fast as she could without looking like she was frightened towards the door, pulling the massive durasteel blast door shut behind her until it slammed with a dull echoing thud that was lost in the waves of panicked pedestrians, sirens, and traffic. As the dull thuds of the locks engaging behind her, Kayle turned and set off into the packed streets, strolling quickly and with purpose as far away as she could get before the invaders arrived. Even if most of the knowledge she was responsible for was safely tucked away under literal tons of duracrete, durasteel, and military grade explosives designed to bury the facility deep in the planet’s core in the event of a breech, Kayle still held the access codes and several of the last files she had scanned before she had been able to upload them. Her job was to preserve the infinite knowledge here at all costs. Wasn’t it?


Down the streets, turning seemingly at random in the bustling fearful crowds of mixed civilians and security personnel, Kayle quickly boarded an overcrowded shuttle-bus that was heading out of the city in an effort of finding safety in the rural landscapes of the planet. Jostled back and forth between a rather fat man who smelled strangely of a variety of strong herbs, if Kayle had olfactory sensors, and a young woman with a screaming child, Kayle bore the ride in silence.


I need to preserve the knowledge. At all costs. Preserve it. Do not let them get it. Do not let them get me. The makers are depending on me. Where am I supposed to go? She had been told once where to go in the event of a planetwide security lockdown; but she had filed it away in a deep recess of her cognitive module of a mind. In the moment, it was lost.


”Time to improvise”


Looking around, she saw it. The Emergency Brake.


Reaching up, she wrapped her orange metallic fingers around the cord that ran along the edge of the roof on either side of the shuttle and pulled down quickly and fluidly forcing the shuttle to screech to a grinding halt as sparks flew from beneath the engine outside as it screamed to a stop from near top speed.


The dagger like looks and cries of pain and shouts of anger were lost on Kayle as she quickly kicked the door next to her open and hopped down amongst the hedges, trees, and grass and scurried away. Not chancing a look back at the angry bus full of sentients behind her.


Ducking through the first hedge, Kayle ran at an odd shuffle; a half attempt to look normal whilst still covering the ground as fast as she could. That did not last long, as her foot caught the second root she encountered and sprawled forward, crashing into another hedge with the crackling of leaves and snapping of twigs.


From her position on the ground she looked up, her lower body half concealed in the bush, and saw another duo of droids.


A party planning droid and a doctor droid. They will suffice perhaps.


”Excuse me doctor. I have fallen and cannot get up.”

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Bethany and her Templars moved in unison towards the sound of the fight, their mag plated boots making a horrendous clattering as they sprinted through the hall. Comms were fierce now and voices were crying out before getting extinguished in cries of static. They were fighting the Sith, and so the Imperials were ready for heavy losses. They had been ordered by the Royal Guard to hold the bastion and join the Imperial Knights in the fighting. It was a last ditch attempt to stop a Sith beachhead that would overwhelm the station and perhaps if they had killed enough of the monsters there would be terms offered. But it would be death for the Templars either way. The Remnant was tossing all of their elite units into the fray now, comm channels were local green for the Grenadiers of Foy, Kildare, and the Imperial Knights as well. All that were missing were the Imperial Guard itself, the Empress, and the Caridian Rangers.


The Templars stacked up beside the tertiary entrance to the main hanger and Beth held up her hand, counting down from three.




The Templars all held weapons in eagre hands, their faces under their modified helmets grim and focused. Beth herself held a Slugthrower rifle, its large bullpup style magazine protruding under her right arm. Loaded with contact explosive ammo, small shaped charges that cavitated enemy armor or in the event of a miss, would explode into shrapnel. She also carried her flight issue E-22, which was slung in its holster on her lower back, and her regular flechette pistol and bayonet on her hips. It would be a tough fight but it was for the Empire.




That glorious future which was just out of reach for the Empress, for the Empire. This was the last hurrah, the final stand of the Empire, and its soldiers would make it a glorious and bloody affair. While thinking of that great mission, Beth reached up and slapped the access control panel, beginning the movement of the thick doors.


The bunched muscles in Beth’s legs sprang into action as her team burst through the door into the hanger bay in which the battle for the Empire had began. They spread out into a double firing line, establishing themselves behind long rows of plastoid boxes that had been stacked for loading onto some long forgotten shuttle. Nothing explosive luckily, Beth noted as she lay her heavy rifle across a crate maked ‘E4 Rations’ and brought the reflexive sight to bear upon the opening of the landing shuttle. They were on the flank of the enemy and had clear line of site of both the shuttle and the Imperial Knights. As her fellow men and women of the Templars set prepared their weapons, their firing lines firmly enveloped in the double bubbles projected by the Ysalamir. When they saw the form of the Sith Master’s apprentice and the troopers surrounding him they opened fire. Blaster bolts, flechettes, sonic, and high ex slugs ripped through the air from the flank, all headed for the Sith and their troopers.

((1)) ((Modded duel between Camik Rhonik and Beth Andromina))


Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

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Seeing the lightsaber wielding figured stand before them, the one his Master called an exorcist did not deter Camik. He knew they would face heavy opposition. It was a shame that this force wielder had to be on the weaker side and not joined the ranks of the Sith but that was her lot in life. One that he was confident his Master would deal with.


Camik signaled the men that they should follow on his mark. He trusted that his Master would reek enough chaos in the hanger that they would be able to proceed on their mission, and he was right. Camik reached out in Force sensing those that were around them. Mostly he felt fear but he would feel pockets of determination. He expected the fear, the determination almost surprised him.


Hearing his Masters queue, he gave the signal and took to running. He was not running from the fight but instead to a different one. Everyone had their roles to play and his was not in hanger.


If he hadn’t been feeling with the Force he would not have noticed the pocket of troops in the flanks taking a bead on them. Reflexably he reached out and grasped one of the troops following him and threw the trooper in front of him with the Force. It happened just in time as the explosive rounds that were meant for Camik hit the trooper obliterating his armor.


The remaining troops survived the initial onslaught reacted with their training, ”CONTACT RIGHT” one of the troopers announced to the others where they were taking fire from and they getting behind what little cover there was. Camik dove behind cover to take stock of the situation. This was not how a Sith should act but he needed to take stock of his options. ”Advance on their positions and take them out.” He told the sergeant. Though it was likely a unneeded command. When faced with such and ambush the only thing that you can do is go against your instincts and charge.


The troops began to return fire using their disruptor rifles, removing what cover the ambushers had in order to disintegrate them. They moved as a well oiled machine, some would provide covering fire while others would advance, then swap.


Camik drank in the strong emotions around him. He let it feed him making him stronger and faster. The troopers might be able to handle this on their own but he would not stand by while others fought his battle. With his speed and strength enhanced, with a primal growl he burst out from cover and charged the emplacement. He was not as fast as Oni, but he was faster than any normal being. He was looking for their leader. If one would attack him then they would face his blade. He ignited his lightsaber, the blade was a deep purple, with a tinge red on the outside and it would taste flesh this day.


As he ran he pulled supply boxes off the ground and let the blast destroy them. Better to let them destroy their own supplies than him. He kept this up until he felt the Force being ripped away from him. They had a weapon against the Force. He took a few steps back finding the point where he could feel the Force again. Using his supply crate defense up, he looked carefully at his attackers. He tried to find what they had was blocking his abilities, but whatever they had was hidden from view. It could be in a crate or in one of the backpacks. The best option he had was to simple have the disruptor rifles destroy everything. Quiteley he told the troopers over their comms ”They have something that is blocking the Force. Destroy everything it could be in. ”


With those orders he took off running, accepting he would be half blinded but he knew that normal eyes could not track and fire as well if he did not move in straight lines. He moved with the spirit of chaos. It made him look like he was moving like a crazy man but it would also make him very difficult to hit with a blaster or a rifle. He was no longer moving with the speed he was but he was a Cathar, his muscles were built to move faster than a humans and he pushed them to the fullest extent that he could.


In no time he was at what was left of the barricade and vaulted himself over it. Landing he he spoke in a guttural growl. ”My turn to come out to play” he said bringing his lightsaber down on one of the ambushers.



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”Excuse me doctor. I have fallen and cannot get up.”


What is that? A data droid?


In the Moff's estate...


During an invasion...


Requiring assistance...


With no security around...




Even the most conservative of estimates placed the data contained within this droid at high value. Not to mention a data droid like this would have the necessary clearances to move about the estate unhindered, something Query lacked and severely needed right now. And as an added plus, data droids like this could be highly intelligent and capable of complex, in-depth analysis.


Acquire the asset


Query stepped forward, and with his free hand, he reached to raise the data droid up. As he did however, the servant droid shoved him aside and lifted the data droid itself.


"I am no doctor, I am the gardener here."


The servant doesn't recognize the data droid?


"Ignore him, he's malfunctioning. I am designated QR-23, though my common appellation is Query. Self preservation protocol dictates we vacate this area and find shelter."

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Oh my. Well thank you friend." Kayle chittered as she glanced down at the muddy streaks down her front. "Alas, I fear my programming does not cover horticultural applications or removal of combined processed animal excrements, soil, and bits of decaying plant life. Do you master gardener?"


Kayle stared expectantly at the servant droid, who clearly was much more used to following orders than being interacted with.

“I am no doctor, I am the gardener here. I am the gardener. I garden. Here. I am not the master” the droid repeated in a glitched halting mechanized vernacular.


”I believe you may have fallen on your servobrain friend. Does your friend, the doctor with a gun for an arm, know what . . .” before she could finish, Query began to talk, clearing the air. Yes, the gardener is malfunctioning, she concluded as Query spoke.


Query? . . . What an odd name.


”Might I query you with a query Master Query?” Kayle giggled at her own joke. Who would be named after a question? Maybe this doctor droid did not know as much as his kind was supposed to. Is that why he has a gun?


”Are you one of those mad scientists as discussed in Security Memo Besh Mern Four Three Herf Besh . . . err . . . Thesh?” her voice returning to a level of serious concern that only can be mastered by those well versed in the library sciences.


Wiping the muddy mess on her hand in streaks down her hip, trying to, and failing, to clean it off, she extended the hand towards Query in a universal sign of peace, ”I am an A9G-Series Data Series Droid, designated Kuati Librarian number eighty three; but my directors have titled me Kayle. Pleased to meet you rogue Imperial Two One Bee Surgical Unit twenty three. Your self-preservation module seems properly attuned. It seems that enemy forces are besieging the planet. Would not a surgical . . . surgical type place . . . be a proper place to shelter? Most civilized invading forces do not desecrate medical areas for some reason that escapes me at the moment.”


Before she would allow either droid to respond, the faint resonance of the distant sirens reminded her of her mission. ”I must go. It is not safe here I do not think. Excuse me.”


And with that, Kayle turned and dropped into her odd shuffling run again, before tripping on another root and face planting in the grass.


”For terraforming this world, it sure seems uneven.”

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“Ambrose…” Her voice, though robotic and coming through synthesisers, carried a bit of the tremor of emotion she was feeling. She gestured to the wide expansive field around them and the fireworks display of the fleet fight above them in which the Imperials were vastly outnumbered. “...there is no where else to go.” She then walked closer to the bulky war droid that housed the memories of her only friend until her metallic hand brushed his armour plated chest. It was a soft and ginger touch but it carried the strength of her phrik alloy arms. A smile stuttered across her face and she ran her spare hand through her hair.


“If I die, at least it’ll be with you. The only friend i’ve ever had.” She grabbed onto his chest armour and vaulted herself up to perch beside his head, her small form looking even smaller compared to the metal giant she now rested upon. Crouching upon the pauldron of his armor. She patted his helmet dome and grinned.


“Don’t worry about me Ambrose, worry about yourself, I’ll make it if you do.” And she cradled her blaster rifle in hand, now at a better vantage point on whatever would come.


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Alarms blared loudly in the hallways of the Kuat Drive Yard’s orbital rings. These were alarms that brought dark memories flooding back to the mind of the Empress. Dark memories from battles a decade ago, of fighting for her life against the Jedi and the New Republic. Fighting for a wicked emperor that cared not for his people but instead served the Sith in their lust for power and war. So many good soldiers had died then in those brutal and useless wars, but here they were. Now. And no matter the good intentions, the idea of a right and good empire that would never again fight for the Sith, here the Empire and all of its spirit would die. The officer corps, the crème of the Imperial Military, would likely all perish here as with what remained of the Moff council. If they died here, when they died here, the Empire would be finished. And the last Empress would have brought all this death, all this destruction to the Remnant with nothing to show for it.


Nothing to show for it except the blood of her people. The comms were filled with it already, and though Raven was not yet wearing her helmet, she could hear the comm reverberation coming from her bodyguard’s helmets. As they walked together towards the inferno, Raven adjusted the circlet of black iron that sat on her head. It was simple, but it marked her as the Empress and had been given to her from the Moff Council. She had not deigned to wear it on Coruscant, but now, when everything was falling about her, she would wear it till the bitter end. Once the crown was on, then came her helmet, black as carbon which sealed securely to her armourweave.


She wore the black plastoid of a deathtrooper, and all around her were her guard in black armour but without the purple insignia on their breastplate. The insignia that Raven wore was the imperial crest of a darkened purple, and she wore it proudly as the Empress and her guards jogged towards the Sith and Black Sun beachhead. Raven carried the weapons she had used when she had trained as a boarding marine under Deton. A highrate fire blaster rifle, in this case the E-22, a folded force pike, which was hanging beside her lightsaber, a set of grenades in pouches at her belt, and her duel DL-44s. The grenades were frag, cryoban, and glop. While her guard carried much the same loadout, except for switching the main weapons for a variety of rotary canons, grenade launchers, flechette rifles, slugthrowers, and heavy blaster rifles in the case that they ran headlong into the Sith.


But for now, Raven and her twenty men continued on, getting closer to the boarding parties, with weapons at the ready.


Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Karys observed as the scene before him unfolded, even as Ekros attempted to hide his fear he could not hide it...at least not entirely. The force lifted the veil and allowed the powerful Sith Lord to see with unrelenting clarity as events unfolded around them. He was unamused by the man before him, his actions he thought were the work of a coward...a snivelling schemer, just as he had proclaimed of Lady Hyla. And yet the Sith saw through him, like he were reading a book.


His soul was laid bare and was found wanting. In the end Karys had enough of it all, in fact by the time the man was done speaking he no longer had need of them. The force revealed where the Moff was more or less. Not an exact location but it did reveal the presence of a blank spot in the force and beyond that 'blank' spot a large gathering of men or women. It was an obvious assumption to make this was where his target was.


As such he acted, no longer putting on any kind of show. His hate and anger...his Wrath made known.


He spoke out. Even as tendrils extended in the force to crush all three of them. The force acting like a crushing vice upon their necks van as Karys removed Ekros hand with his sabre in a movement that was as quick As it was deadly, still holding the blaster. Lady Hyla was first to perish having been made subject to the pressure for some time already. But yet Ekros was not to die yet, he bore witness unaware of his fate to come.


The fate of the Weak. All had failed to provide an answer to his questions about the Moff, and so he had his answer in his mind. Now, Ekros was being played as much as he was attempting to play the Sith but had underestimated just how much he was needed if at all.


The noose tightened around Lady Hyla's neck until the pressure became a crushing force. All present could hear the telltale sign of her neck breaking. Next came Ferios. The force bent his ribs and bones inwards into the internal organs impaling many of them. But what was unseen was his heart being crushed into pulp.


And finally came Ekros. He suffered most of all, having shown his true self. First his neck felt the same pressures as the two had felt, then his head, his skull began to pulsate, to go inward, and he felt immense pain as his skull was crushing into his brain but not before he felt as if he were being ripped in half and in truth he was.


“All I see before me is Weakness. Three more alike than they would ever care to admit. I see through you like you were glass, Ekros, your soul is open to me...you are nothing but a coward. Spewing words I have no wish to hear. You reek of Fear. You told me only that I wish to hear or think I want too, thinking it would spare you. How naive of you, to assume you know me. And yet your failure is more. You failed to answer my initial questioning, this was your first mistake. Your downfall. And now I have no more use of you...none of you. The force has revealed all I wished to know.


As such the price must be paid. I am a man of my word, only suffering awaits you, don't worry you won't be alone. Your family will be with you soon enough. As you descent into the realm of Chaos to eternal torture, think on this lesson you have learnt even as your death approaches.”


As soon as Ekros was no more, Karys vacated the room quickly, he had no intention of being blasted. Cutting a hole in the window he jumped out and landed smoothly outside. Shortly after he headed towards the blank spot, no longer concealing who he was. There was no need, not when his brethren lay at the doorstep.


He put a com through to whoever was considered in charge of the offensive (Zalis), requesting troops for an assault squad to help lay siege to the Moff using the highly secure Sith military channels he was familiar with.


“Greetings whoever is in charge up there. Hope the fight goes well, this is Lord Akheron, I arrived before the fleet its an nice thing finally see some friendly faces at last. I request immediate reinforcements at my current position, I located a Moff and am en-route to dispatch him to the beyond but need some assistance on the matter. His somehow blocking the force in part, and protected by a large contingent of troopers, I can only do so much...so help would be appreciated. In the meantime I'll try to clear a landing zone for you.”


With that Karys set to work. He allowed his Wrath to flow freely, as his rage, anger and hate focused it into action, assisting his sabre movements. He became an avatar of death and destruction to any in his wake, the Dark required sacrifice and Karys was only too willing to provide the victims it required. He would hold on for as long as he could until his reinforcements arrived.



''There are others of my kind...those who see themselves as lions among sheep as I do. As kings--superior to man in every way. Why, then, should we be confined to darkness? Why should we fear man.'' - Darth Lucifer


I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Zalis pushed through the landing ramp with XP7. The hulking droid led the way, wrist blasters firing a pour of steady stream line fire into whatever moved. With a great annoyance in her voice, she lashed out vocally at the droid.


"Don't waste your fire. Let those pawns take on those not in our path. We move through that door. It's the clearest way towards our objective."


Zalis pushed on the back of the droid to get it to move, lifting one of her blasters to fire at some random tech guy who thought it was safe to stand up from behind his cover in the midst of the fire fight going on. She lowered herself to be smaller than the majority of stray blaster fire coming off the battle about forty of fifty feet away from her location. XP7 did it's best to keep up, but was clearly not designed to move quickly. That's a flaw I'm going to have to fix after all of this. They got through hangar and she quickly shut the door and locked it behind her by use of blaster shot. She needed to keep all high ranking officials pinned to this facility if she should fail her goal in ending their lives. She moved over to the nearby data port to see what she could find in regards to a map of the facility. It was then that XP7 chimed in.


"Ma'am, incoming tranmission" "What the hel-" "Patching it through." "Why the hell would you do that?!" Her fighting the droid was pointless, he had already patched the comm in.


“Greetings whoever is in charge up there. Hope the fight goes well, this is Lord Akheron, I arrived before the fleet its an nice thing finally see some friendly faces at last. I request immediate reinforcements at my current position, I located a Moff and am en-route to dispatch him to the beyond but need some assistance on the matter. His somehow blocking the force in part, and protected by a large contingent of troopers, I can only do so much...so help would be appreciated. In the meantime I'll try to clear a landing zone for you.”


The words spoken made her almost raise an eyebrow out of sheer concern for the mental health of a man who transmitted something like that during the midst of a battle that was beginning to peak. To her surprise though, the movement he had made was already something worth noting. With a sharp turn of her wrist to return the comm back to the man named Lord Akheron.


"Akheron, you should consider yourself a lucky man to have reached as far as you did without support troops. But since you have asked so nicely, I think I change the priority for some of our agents to land near your landing zone...-XP7 have all ground agents not already engaged to reroute to Akheron's landing zone. Make it a high priority for them to arrive at full speed. Akheron, don't waste my agents. Bring back a few momentums as a gift."


As soon as she was done, she cut the transmission and glared at XP7 for even patching it through. The droid only turned and began to download the facility map, as he had already sent the priority override to all other agents as she requested. Zalis knew this, so she didn't need to bother him with checking to make sure he did. Still feeling annoyed she began to take a look around the room. It was a control room of sorts, having data from the shipyards, fuel movements, resources, and-BINGO! There were security cameras of the entire facility... Well, not the entire facility. It had an angle on most of the rooms and hallways that lead to those rooms that were carrying or storing valuable things. There was movement in some of the rooms as crews were trying to save what they could and load it up on ships. But it was movement on one camera that caught Zalis' eyes... The Empress herself...


"XP-seal hallway four-A." The order came with a smirk. She watched from her position as the black armor clad Empress moved with something from fifteen to twenty-five guards through the narrow corridor hallway that was leading them towards the firefight in the hangar opposite of Zalis. She couldn't have planned a better outcome if she tried. She watched with a full blown smirk as the doors suddenly sealed behind and in front of the Empress. "Alright XP, now is the time for you to serve me faithfully to the end. Activate your contingency protocol and go through that door, and charge until the end."


Zalis stood still for a moment, no longer looking at the screen, as she knew what would happen. The droid would appear, open fire until he was shot down. When his circuits finally shut off, he would explode as all of her XP droids were programed to do if they activated their contingency she installed in them. The droid's loud stomps of it's feet moving as it left the room, allowed for her a moment to pull her second blaster out of it's holster. Upon her doing so, the blaster fire she expected erupted in the hallway. She dared not move until she heard the clang of XP7 hitting the ground. And she would wait until the faithful boom. In her mind, she counted how long it would take the guards to drop the droid. Three, four, five, si- Then the clang went. It would take about three seconds for the explosion to happen. So she counted it down. Three... Two... One... BOOM. There it was. She then slowly walked out of the door and stared down Raven. Her eyes locked upon the wannabe Empress. It took her only a second before she decided to not waste her words. It was clear as day to Raven. Zalis had been in reports, she was the Queen of Vice, agent of death. She was here to take the Empress down. Zalis wasted no time, lifting both blasters and began to pour a steady stream of fire at the Empress.




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"...are you fully functional? You seem to be operating under peak capacity. Are your servos misaligned? That can throw off your balance."


Query moved over to help the librarian droid to her feet, dropping his voice into a smoother, caring tone. Meanwhile he considered the possibilities made available by this new arrival.


A kuati librarian droid, one suffering memory issues. Either she is damaged, or she has been given data exceeding the manufacturer's suggested parameters. Her data is apparently valuable enough to require her fleeing in an emergency situation to safeguard it, yet her mental systems are compromised enough to interfere with threat recognition.




This changes nothing. I must preserve my own programming. However, this data droid presents potential opportunities depending on what she contains.


Evaluate? Estimated time to sufficiently evaluate the contents of her drives increases risk to self beyond acceptable levels. I must leave immediately.


Keeping his voice calm and soothing, he said "We must find a safe place to preserve ourselves. However, I estimate the entire planet will be under military action soon, and valuable droids will be subject to either damage, looting, or capture. None of these are acceptable to me. I have a companion holding a ship at the spaceport. We may be able to use it to leave the planet and reach a combat-free zone. Once there, we can evaluate our next steps."


"And in answer to your earlier question, by the clinical definition as it loosely applies to droids I am insane. However I am also armed and in possession of transportation, and seeing as I have not seen fit to commit violence against you, I think you will find my madness an acceptable risk compared with the risks of remaining in an active combat zone."

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”I am designed to be the ultimate information and data administrator; however, such vast skills have left me lacking in other areas. Information storage centers tend to have more even flooring.” Kayle explained, as she was helped up.


”These earthy tones really do not suit my pristine plating.” she grumbled as she tried in vain to brush the chunks of dirt and earth out of where her plating exposed her joints. ”Why did they make this planet so uneven? They design their ships so expertly. There is nothing bumpy or dirty about them. Even the Executor-class with its myriad of walkways is hypothetically easier to navigate. Are you not more accustomed to the smooth sterile floors of surgi…”


*dramatic pause*


”…excuse me Two One Bee Surgical Unit Twenty-three. Did you say that you are insane? Given the circumstances, I do not think a memory wipe would be beneficial to the preservation of your body right now.


Perhaps this medical droid will be able to assist me in preserving my own memory files for the good of the repository. Galactic Security depends on it. No one else could find where I filed the . . . things.


…but he is crazy…




…do you see the gun he has for an arm? What sort of droid does that to itself?


Not like I have much of an option right now though Kayle.

Well, that is true. Fine.




The entire exchange of her mental processes with herself took mere seconds, before she came to a conclusion. This insane droid might be her best option to survive. Something unsuspecting. Maybe that would be useful for her own self-preservations.

”I am concerned that while your self-preservations protocol may have benefitted from Imperial programming that it may have negatively altered other areas of your programming. It is my hope that your medical knowledge is not compromised; but for my own sake, I cannot allow my preservation in your admittedly compromised mind and hand.” She gestured to Query’s gun arm. ”And if you are a medical droid, it is my hope that you would seek to preserve life in all its functions . . . including my own. Might I offer a more logical suggestion?


Turning and carefully stepping over the uneven patch of ground she had just tripped over, ”Data files suggest that an unnamed Imperial Admiral’s Tie Interceptor is docked at a private landing strip a short distance from here. I would assume that given the time frame between the visit of the Admiral’s agent to the Information Repository and our meeting that there was enough time for the ship to be refueled. Such vehicles are much faster than any medical frigate that you could commandeer. The knowledge and coding I contain is worth more than a single starfighter or the life of an admiral. Might I suggest you bring your unbalanced mental processes and cobbled weaponized limb and accompany me off planet until peace can be restored?”


Turning her photoceptors skywards Kayle sighed in a mechanical warble, ”Ahhhhh. It is hard to believe this peaceful world may soon be home to unspeakable violence. Once would think that with such advanced weaponry no one would dare stand against the Empire here. It must be a budgetary conflict of some sort.”

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Borsk paced restlessly on the bridge of the powerful ship, the lord of the Black Sun only a few feet away. He felt almost helpless as the two mighty fleets moved to engage each other, a sense of being only a tiny part of a massive machine. This was not his style of war, and there was little one such as he could do upon the bridge, save wait and hope for a victory. Veteran Warlords and well trained crews staffed each of these titanic ships, most fulfilling duties and performing tasks of which the bounty hunter knew nothing. No, Borsk knew his place was on the planet, in the chaos and bloodshed, hunting the enemies of the Sith and of the Crusaders.


"Lord Delta," Borsk hissed, leaning toward the man who had welcomed him to the battle. "I go to hunt, to prey upon the weak and the hiding. I can do little here, my skills are wasted. I go to bring glory, for the Crusaders whom I serve, and for yourself, who has honored me with this gift."


Without waiting for a reply, Borsk strode rapidly away to the long bays of smaller ships. The blood lust could be felt in the air, the rining screams of the dying and the war cries of the living already calling through his comm. Borsk worked alone, and had little need of orders over the comm, so he listened with a sadisitic smile to the sounds of war in one ear, the other listening intently for any signs of present danger. Dozens of transports ships still remained in the ships, and Borsk choose one smaller and faster than most, his former time as a ship's captain serving him well as he expertly piloted the small craft away from the battle of titans.


Heavy feet pounded on the nearly empty corridor as Borsk landed in a nearly empty mess hall, his ship cutting an entry way for him. It appeared to be a mess hall, deserted by the warriors that had rushed to battle and death. The tall Trandoshan purposfully avoided the front lines, knowing he could do but little to change or aid the tides of battle. Instead, he was heading deeper into the shipyards, weapons at the ready. In his hands he held his concussion rifle, primed to send a imploding energy charge at whoever might be unfortunate enough to cross his path. A heavy shotgun, stun carbine, light machine gun and his precious sword also waited on his back, while a layer of thermal detonators, stun and fragmentation grenades sat below them. He had come to hunt, and would return with a prize, or not at all.

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Disruptor rifles were amazing sniper rifles that were excellent at removing long range targets from the fight, but with such long recharge times measured in five second intervals, they were not suited for close range engagements against opponents with automatic weapons. In the time it took for a single disruptor to recharge, a Templar could magdump thirty rounds downrange at the exposed Sith positions. And though Beth could not tell the Sith’s exact numbers, they were being attacked on two fronts with little or no cover, so the Templars began their deadly work. E-22s sounded their roar of discharged energy as they spat high powered blaster bolts into the Sith troopers and towards the charging Sith himself. Cover was exploding into ash around them and Beth ordered her men to pivot their dual firing lines, moving backwards, continuing to pump Sonics, Flechettes, Blaster bolts, and slugs into the enemy force as the Templars began their slow pivot.


“Sithy charging, front line fall back to second cover, concentrate fire on the exposed troopers and the charging Cathar.”


Solid copies came through the helmet comms as the front Templar line began to fall back as their cover fell to pieces around them. One unlucky Templar, Lesel Basili, from the red filigree on her back caught a disruptor bolt in the arm and fell screaming as the entire limb disappeared into ash. The loud screams were automatically muted on the helmet comms and Beth felt a pang of sadness for the poor corporal as she vaulted over another stack of rations and pointed the barrel of her rifle at the Sith apprentice with his purple lightsaber. She took a millisecond to steady her aim as he began his vault over the first line of crates and brought his sabre to slice through private Valkin’s hemet. Ending the poor man’s life and driving him into the decking without a sound but the crashing of plastoid armour on durasteel. Corporal Keel, a few meters away with several crates between him and his now dead friend, leveled his E-22 at the Sith’s exposed side. He was conscious to keep his backpack filled with the force eating reptile out of enemy fire as he let loose a dozen red blaster bolts at the Sith.


Then along with lance corporal Listra who was beside her on the firing line, Beth depressed the trigger and sent two three round bursts of high ex rounds at the sith apprentice’s center of mass. Where they would explode into shrapnel on impact with the Sith, his lightsabre, or the crates behind him. Listra, with her Ysalamir tucked safely in the backpack slung on her back, fired her flechette rifle as fast as her finger could depress the trigger. Sending hundreds of razor sharp flechettes in a three foot spread at the Sith apprentice. Other Templars, identifying the closest and most deadly target, also turned their weapons on him as disruptor bolts began to fly again. Beth counted ten Templars still alive, and many dozens of regular stormtroopers in the other side of the hanger, engaged in a deadly dance with the invading Sith. It would be one hell of a fight.




Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

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As soon as Karys received a reply he was taken back a little. He hadn't really expected someone to answer all things considered and that someone had was worth noting, he would not forget it...he repaid his debts in full. He didn't have to wait long for reinforcements to arrive and when they did they were met by torso's, arms, legs and everything in between strewn all over the place. The sounds of blaster fire and multiple armed shuttles emblazoned with the Black Sun logo marked the arrival of the troops he had requested.


Enough troops to counter the numbers he expected to encounter, which from what he had sensed numbered somewhere between sixty or more. Not including something that gave off a weird feeling in the force...which had intrigued him and those he couldn't find due to the infernal lizards. As soon as boots were on the ground the Sith Lord started issuing orders.


“Alright ladies and gents, I want this done quick and clean as possible. They got a Moff holed up around near here and I fully intend to capture him and hand him over to whoever is in charge...they asked for a momento let's give them one! Form ranks, half of you concentrate fire on those holding the yslamiri lizards, that should allow me to assist your survival better, the other half concentrate on the Moff and those protecting him. Other than that feel free to let loose as you please but whatever you do don't hit the Moff! Now let's go show these imperial sons of a bantha how we do things where we come from!”


Following cheers in light of the speech of sorts...Karys begun the no doubt soon to be bloody assault. He led them towards the Moff's general location, and as soon as they approached the firefight began. Taking a blaster bolt to his armour Karys snarled before ordering the man shot on sight, he just hoped they got the blighter. He was careful to not stray too close and step into the field of protection the Yslamiri afforded the enemy after the fact, for now he attempted to pull any within range of his abilities into an area where his troops held the advantage, ducking and weaving between cover as they and the Massassi hidden beneath the armour and masked/hooded robe he wore attempted to avoid blaster fire if possible as they made an advance, concentrating fire on both the yslamiri troopers and those protecting the Moff.


It was only when the group approached closer that the real danger became apparent. There stood the by far largest cyborg (Ambrose) Karys had ever seen in his life. And yet the thing before him did not phase him...in fact it amused him greatly. He had hears rumours of such a thing, stories from the wars. As he recalled they were a secret project meant to counter the rise of force sensitive. But last he heard it had been shut down, yet here one stood.


The thrill of such a challenge excited him. This would be a true test of his skill as both a warrior and a Sith, he couldn't wait. Pointing his sabre towards the mammoth beast of a cyborg he beckoned him, and to make his point he attempted to drag a trooper out from next to him...but instead found the man resisted the attempt and the yslamiri preventes it from occurring....much to his chargrin. Regardless a challenge had been issued, now he would see if it went unanswered or not.


To further make the point he spoke, attempting to cut a enemy down as he got ever closwr to the walking tank of a manbot.


“At last a challenge worthy of my pursuit. Come cyborg let us dance the dual of death, tell me your name that I might know my enemy as I strike him down in honourable combat. Hold nothing back...for I shall no mercy to you and yours. The enemies of the Sith Empire are unworthy of such sentimentality.”



''There are others of my kind...those who see themselves as lions among sheep as I do. As kings--superior to man in every way. Why, then, should we be confined to darkness? Why should we fear man.'' - Darth Lucifer


I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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The beleaguered Imperial fleet faced the whole wrath of the Axis fleet. Hundreds of turbolasers thundered their plasmoid energy into the shields and exposed bulkheads of the Imperial Star Destroyer Agamemnon . Siege torpedoes came flying in from the St Cathryne, carrying loads of high explosive shaped charges, designed to plunge through the Imperial bulkheads and detonate once within the vulnerable superstructure. The big guns of the Remnant Star Destroyers would have to be primaried down first to clear the biggest threats from the field, then the mop up could begin. Delta himself sat on the bridge of Holofernes, its black painted hull reflecting little of the green turbolaser energy that belched from its octet turbolasers. He waved to one of the slave girls who reached forward and triggered a comm to the Sith forces that were on the port side of the Holofernes.


“Ilk of Ion you may fire when ready.”


The Ilk ignited its engine cluster and sped to the front of the fleet, releasing a cloud of ion before it towards the Agamemnon and the Fiat Lux. It was now in its most vulnerable state and would likely be primaried down by the imperials. Which if he was honest, Delta did not care a bit about. It was a Sith ship, and a glass cannon at that. Plus the black sun would be paid handsomely to rebuild it. On the scoreboard however, his bombers were being shredded and he made the next primaries for the big star destroyers the smaller vessels of the Imperial fleet.


Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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She knows the whereabouts of a classified, custom starship?


She places the knowledge contained within herself above the safety of an admiral? To the point of being willing to break protocols, commit criminal acts, and work with a self-admitted malfunctioning droid with visually apparent violent tendencies?


...I like this droid.


The experience was yet another novelty in what was becoming a very rich few days. Query had found uses for other lifeforms. He'd even found he respected some. But to actually like another sentient entity? Unheard of...but not unwelcome. He realized it represented yet another flaw and bias in his logical processes. Yet unlike his recent discovery of anger in his argument with Ambrose, he had no doubt in his mind that he was proud of this development. Being able to form emotional attachments was something many droids were capable of to some degree, yet the capacity had always eluded him. Self diagnosis stated the most likely cause being his partial memory wipes, the process leaving behind broken remains of budding relationships with his colleagues while the majority of the emotional bond was erased. To put it in more metaphorical terms (a skill Query had always prided himself on), his artificial heart had been scarred one too many times.


But now, it seemed his freedom had prompted new growth. And no memory wipe would take this away.


Yes...this droid will be the companion Ambrose couldn't. His obsession was too consuming, and he clung to it to protect his psyche rather than heal. He was too narrow-minded to exist on my level, and refused to change to match my development. I've outgrown him, and this Kayle will be his replacement.


Query willfully ignored the emotional response the thought sent through his processors (Another organic behavior mastered!) and looked at Kayle.


That sounds satisfactory. Please, lead the way and I will protect you as best I can.


New friend, he added silently.

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Secretly, albeit conflictedly, Ambrose was glad to see Emma. Perhaps they would get time to discuss things when this was all said and done. For the moment all they had to do was wait. She was probably right. Where else could they go? The hulking Phrik battlesuit could hear an array of voices over the comms as what appeared to be the entirety of the forces of chaos descended on this Imperial stronghold.


One Ruler. One Code. One Law… he recited to himself, his deep dark mechanized voice trailing off at the site of the first few Sith/black sun forces began to appear darting between the thick trunks of the grove they now stood encamped in.


Turning to glance at Emma, he shrugged his shoulder lightly, ”I might be needing this little sister. Please take care of yourself and,” he jerked his thumb back over his shoulder at the older Moff, him. Ambrose was not sure how the man had gotten to his place of power; but judging by the amount of security the man had, he suspected it was not from battlefield experience and knowhow.


Whilst the numerous KPRS and Imperial agents and newly arrived soldiers began to form up for their resistance, Ambrose stood still, a sentinel towering amongst the trees that still managed to dwarf him. The occasional blaster bolt pinged into his armor, leaving nothing but a next to invisible burn mark of scorched sooty air from the collision. Taking note of this, the once trooper would have smiled if he could. Whatever they did for me, I have a purpose.


And a duty. He reminded himself as he stood as wide as his form could make itself to shield the Moff, his friend Emma as she scurried off his shoulder and down his backside, and fellow sworn loyal soldiers of the Empress.


It was then that e appeared, not a trooper or minion of his overlords, no; this one wore armor of a different sort, the armor of one who would lord his power over others. Vader. This one seeks to be another Vader… Even as his foe attempted to showcase his power by swinging his glowing red blade, Ambrose could hear the voice, dark and evil above the din of the battlefield.


An honorable duel eh? Even as he ravages this planet with his men.


. . .Very well. . .


Ambrose did not know for what purpose he had been designed. What he did know was that the Empress had pardoned him and that he was free to fulfill his duty as needed. Perhaps today would be the day that his duty was put to the test. Perhaps today he would finally get to see what he had been designed for.


Long ago, back on Carida, while undergoing advanced training, they had gone over combatting force-wielding foes. Usually this was a task left to the Imperial Knights nowadays; but back in the old days, the days of glory, such tasks had often been relegated to the Emperor’s finest and best. Yes, Ambrose Veshok knew how to kill a Jedi with an E-11. What difference would it make Jedi or Sith if he did so with the newly acquired and tested devices of destruction he had now?


His dark metallic voice booming over the battlefield, Ambrose responded as he hefted the massive five-barreled plasma assault cannon in his hands, leveling it at the still semi-distance force-user approaching, ”I am AR GEE ONE TWO SIX, formerly of the Ryloth Garrison. Servant of The Empress. Protector of the weak. Preserver of order. Prepare to be destroyed.”


Relatively content as he was shrouded on multiple sides by the invisible protective aura of the ysalamiri, Ambrose pulled the trigger on his massive weapon. Instantly power cells within began to cycle up, feeding a near constant stream of white-hot crackling plasma down the barrels of the weapon as each one began to spit out their payload at an astounding RPM. Squeezing the second trigger within the weapon itself, let off a duo of dumb missiles that hissed away leaving a stream of smoke and steam behind them; all guided by the expert working machinations of Ambrose’ mechanized hands and inbuilt targeting system working in unison. Within moments fiery explosions and chaotic damage worthy a Sith lord would play across the once sought after peaceful glade of manmade forest.


Stepping neither forward nor backwards, Ambrose hoped, but did not plan that this initial barrage would be enough to dissuade the religious zealot that now challenged him. After all, he was designed for punching holes in the sides of starships, destroying anything less outright. This measly little man would be nothing but smoldering ash in a burnt out crater soon enough.


((1)) – Duel between Ambrose and Karys

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Oh good! His mental functions are not as fully damaged as I may have feared.


. . .especially with that gun on his arm!


. . .Yeah that is true. It could have been a whole lot worse. I wonder why he has that thing.


. . .After all, I am not built for combat.


. . .Or uneven terrain come to think about it


”Excellent. If you will please follow me. We will set off immediately Two One Bee Surgical Unit Twenty-Three. I wonder, what happened to you to send you out here in the middle of this chaos?”


“Oh! Were you programmed to preserve your memory banks as well? Perhaps some secret data on Imperial bioweapons production? I’ve always thought that sounded rather inter. . .” As Kayle turned she, for the third time in almost as many minutes, tripped over the uneven ground and sprawled out flat on the ground; this time, fortunately, on the otherwise cool grass of the sprawling terraformed Kuati gardens.


At the same moment, blaster fire seemed to erupt from somewhere out of sight, but well within hearing distance. Pushing herself up on her arms, Kayle continued, ”Oh dear me. I certainly hope that my falling has not triggered some sort of security protocol to engage. Just think of all those lasers being wasted on a little mishap? Oh well, please come along with me Two One Bee Surgical Unit Twenty-Three. My that is a long name, do you have something shorter I could call you? Maybe, Twenty-Three or something? “


“Perhaps you could tell me as we walk?" She gestured away from the sound of blaster fire. ”I just know the ship has got to be in this direction.”


Or at least I hope it is. . .


. . .That Admiral’s servant did say he docked it somewhere nearby. Didn’t he?


. . .Hmmm. maybe it will come to me as we walk.


. . .Maybe Two One Bee Surgical Unit Twenty-Three knows where it is.


. . .No that does not make sense. Why would he follow me if he knew where it was? That sort of information is classified after all! They do not just give it out to any passing R2 unit that comes along!


. . .Oh well. We will find it.


. . .I hope.


. . .Better be before those blasters find us. What if they mistake Two One Bee Surgical Unit Twenty-Three as some sort of threat and accidentally shoot us both?


. . .Both loyal Imperial servants. That would be a travesty!


Picking herself up out of the grass, Kayle hurried onwards away from the blaster fire; her servo-mind whirring as she contemplated just exactly where that landing strip was supposed to be. It did not help that the sound of a nearby battle beginning to rage was of sufficient distraction to worry even the most callous outdoor droid that might have been used to such sounds.


Maybe it is just a firing range.


. . .Not likely Kayle. He did call it a combat zone.


. . .Right. Time to get out of here.


”Come along and do not let those combatants get us. Our minds are much too valuable, much much too valuable, for them to appreciate.”

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Camik could feel the pain radiating from the fallen troopers. It was muted, like trying to hear someone talking through water but it was there and that thought made him smile, an evil vicious smile.


As much as he might want to relish in the slaughter this was not the place, he was surrounded by enemies. His troops were starting to fall, though he only noted it with a passing though. A few of them had swapped their disrupters for faster blasters to help lay down suppressive fire. They were careful to keep Camik out of their fire, which meant the safest places for the enemy troopers was as close to him as they could manage. Those that still remained fireing the druspters keep whittling down the enemy troopers with their precision shots. Camik did not notice how many had fallen, that was a task for the end. For now they were doing their duty.


As soon as one trooper fell from his lightsaber his instincts kicked in and he was on the move again. He was not caught in the grips of the Riastrad, his blind rage but his blood sang in other ways. This was what it felt to be truly alive. He dove into a roll, out of the way before the trigger could be pulled, it was not about being faster than a blaster bolt but being faster than the eye, trigger reactions. His dive and roll put him to far out of reach to attack with his saber, so he snapped his blaster up and took a shot at what he thought might be their leader. Killing the leader was important but not important enough to take the time to analysis who it was.


With that he moved back into the fray taking shots with his blaster in his left hand and working to get in the middle of the enemy troopers. If they wanted to shoot at him then they needed to risk shooting their own.


His attacks were designed to incipatate rather than kill. He wanted them standing and in the way of their comrades, just not shooting at him. He could kill them afterwards but for now he had the advantage, lots of targets to choose from as he wove in between the troopers.

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An extension of the darkness loomed before her, a chasm of doom in the form of a horn-masked man. It was terrifying and Kyrie could feel the cool chill of fear begin to creep up her spine as she traced her symbols onto the decking in silver flame. She turned her fearsome eyes upon the chasm of darkness and smiled with unnatural strength. The scar tissue deformed to give the smile an almost maniacal visage, and as she did so tears of fire began to run down her face. Across her squads of troopers a cheer echoed as they were tuned into the song of their leader, the song of war, the fury of righteous fire.


The whole world seemed to change, and Kyrie could feel the pull of the spirits, just as she had on Tython. The docking bay before her shimmered into an open field of greying grass, interspersed with the yellows of nerfslips, twisting and swaying in a breeze. She could almost smell the seasalt upon that wind. It stayed for only a moment before the vision caught with the wildfire that flowed from her hands.


The Grenadiers of Foy and the Imperial Commandos of Kildare were under the heavy fire of the Sith, but these troops were no weakling Jedi or GA troops. They had been hunting Sith beside their master for years. The enemies were armed with only the Disrupter Rifles that required a cooldown of five or six seconds after each shot. While the Disrupters were powerful weapons, their slow firing rate could not stand before the whithering fire of Repeating Heavy Slugthrowers, Concussion Rifles, Blasters, and the anti-Sith flechettes.


Hadran Narraghmore winced as he watched his second in command, Hywyl Llandderfyl disintegrate before his eyes. He had known the man since childhood, and to hear the man's screams as he turned to ash made him angry. He whistled out a command, the sound similar to a Coruscanti hawkbat and the Imperial troops began to concentrate their fire on the Sith warriors, letting their masters fight. He would enjoy the fight and afterwards he would get drunk in the memory of his ruddy-faced friend and all their adventures.


As for Kyrie, she only understood the language of the sword. The dark haired girl raised her unlit lightsaber, with its long and simple handle, in one scarred hand while she gathered some of her firey tears upon the other. With those tears she marked her forehead with the sign of the cross, leaving behind a burn on her pale flesh. She finished her designed pacing and stood in the center of the patterns and sang to the Sith. It was not a lovely song, not one of peoms or of lost lovers, it was of the man’s doom.


...I will sing to you the lullaby of obliteration, and I will awake with a smile and with joy in my heart. I let my blade do the talking, So my tongue shall become iron and my words the mighty roar of war....


And her blade sang in its ignition, casting the world bright with new fire.



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Exorcists, the bane of those who wielded the darkness, a distasteful tactic yet an effective one none the less. There was a reason that Oni held a steady dislike for their kind, his reliance upon the dark emotions surrounding the art of war purified and sickening to the demon. It churned his guts as the taste sweetened and became foul to his palate. Yet, it would only hinder the Sith Master little. Even without the feast of emotions, he was not without the Force, a steady ally to the trinity of belief. Light, Dark, Neutral, it was the source of life, and its flow a straight current that cut even the sturdiest of resistance that chose to try and stray its path. His eyes never leaving the Exorcist before him, he and his allies continued their onslaught without regret.


Like a endless vortex, Oni reached out his mind and pulled upon the Alcazarin power that Nurgle had once presented him with. Through his disdain at the thought of his former Master's traitorous intents, he made good upon his promise to Lord Exodus to use it in the aid of his brethren Sith and their cause. And like a whirlpool upon the flowing river, he was the endless hole that absorbed the current. Replacing the energy he lost nearing the bane of darkness, his blades sizzling with the flesh of her comrades, his gaze glazened black in her direction as his elongated fangs reared in a power filled roar that echoed and shook the very hanger where they now stood.


In the distance, the first wave of his men fell to the might of the Imperial lot they stood to face. But like the great leaders of old, Oni knew sacrifices had to be made to test the opposition's mettle. For as soon as those whom drew and fired their disrupter rifles, a second wave stepped forward and crouched, sending forth a combined barrage of repeater rifle fire and grenades as mortars lined behind them. He had came here to conquer Kuat and he had came prepared. There were men standing at the ready to replace those who fell, and a last line of offense should their call be needed, but as explosions echoed about them, he hoped it would not come to that. He hoped that he and his opponent would be all that mattered to determine the outcome of this battle.


Yet, she proved to be a welcoming foe indeed, her ritual taking a quick toll upon even the Sith Master as her song reach his ears and his mind, a lullaby of damnation and despair for the darkness that swelled within. Feelings its burning sting rush across his form, he felt as if his soul was aflame, its brilliant light shining upon the depths within that had always called upon the darkness in delight. Yet, he was no stranger to pain, and reveled in its tinge. For to feel pain meant that he was alive, and that was the wish that turned him to the darkness. His wish of freedom to do as he pleased, and the brethren that had granted him such.


Beneath the horned Mask, the demon smiled, blackened static erupting upon his grasped hands as his power amplified. He may not have access to the darkened powers he typically held access to, but all was never truly lost to him. Like Damon, the lovely yet despicable Imperial Knight before him would know his true strength. And now was the time to present its first taste. Grasping his blades right, Oni rushed forward toward her in his typical style of Jar'Kai, the taste of death flowing into him as he pulled upon the Force around him, hastening his actions. It was a simple maneuver to start, but one that would force her to react and show a slight of her hand. As one blade drove toward her gaze, the other faced backwards. Once he grew close, it would find its slanted slash aimed to sever her form in two. He was interested to see how she would defend.


R.I.P. Nanny (6/3/1941-1/9/2012)

R.I.P. Papa (2/14/1936-2/7/2012)

R.I.P. Big Mike (5/12/82-11/9/2012)

~Revelations 21:4 (KJV)~

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The Templars shifted their aim as the Sith moved. Disruptors had idled off, and now only a few splashed into the cover that they maintained. Instead, there was a spastic shooting of regular blasterfire. Beth watched as private Ben-Halmon took such a blast to the back of the helmet as he turned his sonic rifle at the now blaster wielding Sith. The blast caught him right below the rim of his helmet, the dissipating energy splashing down his spinal column and sending the dead Templar into spastic twitching as blood coursed onto the decking. Another Templar down, a brave man and one of the first that had served with Beth when the unit had been formed. That was a painful sight to Beth and as she fired again she could feel the last high-ex round leave its magazine and the bolt of the heavy slugthrower rifle stayed back. Indicating the need to reload.


“Reloading!” She called over her throat mic as she reached to her flight vest and grabbed another thirty round magazine from the three holsters that were secured to her black armour. An easy task that could be completed in seconds and she toggled the release swith with one hand as she pulled the fresh magazine from its holster. But before she could slap the magazine home, a blaster bolt skipped past her cover and smacked into the plastoid armour of her left shoulder. The bolt blew through the black plastoid, leaving much of its energy behind as it then touched and turned skin and meat below it to blaster and burns. Lieutenant Andromina hissed a curse as she crouched behind the food supply crates that made up her and her squad’s cover. She didn’t have time to examine the wound or even slap a soothing bactagel bandage over the burning skin, there was an enemy close at hand and she had a job to do. A job that would likely lead to her death and the death of every hope and dream that she had kindled as a kid on Carida. Perhaps she thought, if she made it out of here without having her head sliced off by a purple lightsaber she would try and see how far she could take things with Sophia. A good thought, but one that had the same probability of working as the Empire making it out of this fight in one piece.


“Contact center!” Came Listra’s calm voice, which shook Beth from whatever daydream she was having. The Sith was very much still alive and very much in the center of the trooper’s double line. Her pretty face became a scowl as she finally slapped a new magazine into her Slugthrower’s receiver, and slapping the side toggle, she popped back up from behind her cover, bringing her rifle to bear. It was easy to find the forceless Sith in the direct middle of her men, so she brought the sight to center on his torso. She depressed the trigger as she steadied the rifle against her crate cover, dimly aware of the sharp pain in her left shoulder as she released well aimed triple bursts of high ex slugthrower rounds at the Sith’s center of mass. Her men and women did much the same.


Though he was seeming impossibly fast, even without access to the force, the young cathar Sith was now surrounded by the well trained, Templars. The possibility of an errant round shooting over cover to smack into a black helmeted templar was moderate, and the Templars accounted for this, their training dictated their moves. All nine remaining Templars focused their fire on the threat from all angles. A classic and desirable outcome for their training. A Sith or Jedi could not defend himself in the from 360 degree assault from a mix of blaster bolts, flechettes, sonic, and slugthrowers.


And as the Templars and their Lieutenant emptied their magazines at the Cathar Sith, they praised the force for the presence of the duel Ysalamir whose bubbles covered the them all in their malevolent embrace.


((Really well done man, I look forward to fighting you again next time!))


Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

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That wasn't blaster fire. That was an automatic plasma cannon. Query recognized the sound from only hours ago. Ambrose has engaged in combat.


He waited and monitored his own mind for the expected emotional response. Yet, nothing came. Odd. Had he severed his emotional attachment to Ambrose? No...


Ah! Of course! Query was in an emergency situation and currently angry at Ambrose. He wasn't emotionally ready to handle leaving his former companion to potentially die, so he was subconciously suppressing his emotions. An unhealthy habit to get into, but a fascinating one to observe from a first-person perspective! Yes, this would require further analysis, once his safety was assured of course.


Query turned back to consider the data droid as they walked.


"Query. My preferred moniker is Query. Also, I believe one of our short-term memory subroutines is malfunctioning, as I have a clear memory of telling you this 72 seconds ago."


"...Wait, your last statement implies you are not sure of the whereabouts of the modified TIE Interceptor. Earlier you seemed positive you knew where it was. Perhaps you should run a self-diagnostic. Cascade failures are serious if they proceed undetected, and can result in permanent personality shifts and damage to the droid in question. If it's not a cascade failure, maybe you should consider upgrading your memory capacity or downloading some of your superfluous data to a secondary drive."

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Camik moved through the enemy troops like a demon possessed. He cut with his saber, glad that is was shorter than a traditional saber. It was made for attacks like this. He was getting close to them, making it harder for them to shoot though it seemed that they had a almost Sith mentality with their lack of caring about shooting their comrades.


It made Camik smile a bit. It was a shame they would all have to die.


As Camik moved through them, attacking weapons and limbs he was getting all of their attention on him. The more focused on him they were the less focused on his troops, however many there were left.


This would have been so much easier, if he still had access to the Force. He needed to talk to his Master about this and find out what had happened.


Before Camik knew what had happened he was surrounded. They had a wide range of weapons that even if tried to deflect them, there were some that would be impossible to deflect. He holstered his blaster. Briefly he wondered what would happen if he just put his hands up. It did not matter but he still briefly wondered.


The problem with having all the weapons pointed with him at the center of the circle was they were all pointed inward and not pointed outwards. That and apparently they had never seen a cat jump.


His legs flexed slightly before he spoke into his comms. ”Fire” With those words he jumped as only a cat can, jumping over the ring of black armored troopers as his own Sith Troopers opened fire on them, nicely grouped up for them to kill, it was as if they were a normal traditional shooting gallery.



As he landed, saber in hand prepared to finish those that were left after his troops had opened fire. One way or another this was about to be over. The only question was, did his gambit pay off?



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The Inquisitor of the Empire could smell the rot of the Sith from paces away. Maggots and bonemeal, the air tasted like a grave. It was a choking foulness that crested over her senses like the waves that crashed upon the abandoned beaches of Tython. The seaworn glass on those beaches had sparkled in the soft light as she had danced among the moonbeams. She had been wild once. Free. Now she was in another prison of suffocating, recycled air and riveted metal. She twisted her face to meet the horned face that approached at the speed of a striking serpent.


Vileness Incarnate.


Kyrie stepped back as the creature passed through the seals etched in silver fire. The souls of the damned leapt forth from the flame like sparks. The souls she had banished, the Sith she had claimed reached with clawing hands to drag the beast into their domain. They were as ghostly as they were ghastly, as decayed as the beast they sought to drag into Hades. Their sins had cast them forever from the light, and they were her burden. Her own soul tore as the damned were birthed from the seeds of her own corruption.


A Sin Eater was never pure, they took upon themselves the vileness and the spoil, the putrid and the corrupt. It was how they cleansed the galaxy of corruption, taking it upon themselves and devouring it. That corruption would be cast upon the fire of her soul and most of it would be burned away into nothingness, but a stain remained. From that stain Kyrie drove her flame, to encompass and destroy.


The Imperial Knight stepped backwards and pain began to roar through her senses. Her mouth was numb and suddenly dry. She could feel the recycled air upon her teeth and flow across her tongue, but her mouth was not open. The Sith’s blade had caressed her cheek, driving through the flesh to expose her jaw. Flesh and muscle remained around her face in strands, her jaw clenching with its remaining muscles.




Kyrie muttered a curse and flipped herself into a backwards tumble across the studded metal and permacrete. She welcomed the closeness to the beast, but on her own timing. The tall girl, and she was a girl, still too young to gain entrance to the officer’s bar, tossed the ebony braids of her hair from her vision. The song of war was pounding in her mind, carrying with it the thrill of battle.


She invited the beast to come to her with the flash of her silvered blade. Her fire gathered around her, bound to her song, stoked by every breath. The holy flames leapt tall about her, illuminating her horrendous smile, all blood and exposed teeth. Her cauterized flesh stank and gave off whisps of steam with every breath. She was ready to rip the strength from the corrupted soul before her and banish it to flame. Her song continued in the force, her mouth no longer able to move.


Your soul grows soft in the fire of my furnace. It hungers to be hit upon the anvil and to have a hundred sisters in its death. May you dance the maddest in the morass of our red rain



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”Oh no no no,” Kayle chortled with laughter, ”I assure you I am fine. We A9G data droids are the ultimate and data administrators on the market and have been for over a century. Imperial protocols dictate that I undergo routine maintenance and testing. I have received routine upgrades as needed I last underwent testing and updating on. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .well, in the not too distant past. I am functioning at peak capacity my friend. Follow me.”


And with that Kyle waved him on as the two made their way out to a deserted path, ”It would appear we are truly in the middle of nowhere. We best keep moving if we do not wish to be caught up in the middle of something unfortunate.”


He does not believe that I know what I am doing. . .


. . . Well, do you?


. . . Of course I do! I just cannot remember things sometimes. Anyone else would have malfunctioned with all the data they expect me to process!


. . . True, true. We are pretty amazing aren’t we?”


As the two shuffled down the road, Kayle leading the way as the duo quickly walked their way further away from the estate and the ongoing battle.


”Query you say? Like a question? Perhaps that is because you ask so many questions? I can understand why your organic overseers would call you that. You question things that are beyond your security clearance. Knowledge on things like ship schematics or modifications or their locations are strictly forbidden to unauthorized individuals. I will take you to the ship. That way I did not disclose the information but you located it with your own photoreceptors. The location information is still logged into my central cortex processors. I know it is in this direction. . . . .” Kayle rambled on before pausing and adding in a mechanized whisper, ”somewhere.”


Above them, the signs of battle far above began to materialize. More than once the duo had to pause and duck behind roadside shrubbery to avoid far seen groups of soldiers. Native, Imperial, and invader, it did not matter. The duo was not keen on being apprehended by any of them.


After a fair amount of trekking, and more than one face plant over a rough spot of ground, Kayle meandered their way along the roadway until suddenly,


”I do believe that the Admiral’s vessel is hidden a short distance that direction,” She pointed to a finely maintained and rather extra tall bit of hedge atop a rolling hill within site of the roadway, but far enough away to not command much attention from any passersby. Walking up to the hedge, Kayle looked up and down each side of the finely maintained hedge. ”There does not seem to be any obvious entry point,”


“y’ow!’ Kayle yanked her hand back from within the hedge as an arc of blue electricity leapt from an invisible protective field within the center of the hedge to her outstretched finger. ”It seems that someone does not wish us to gain access. I do not suppose you would know how to get past this? You are insane after all.’

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upon the yards of Kuat was a minuscule task, chaos and death reaping its sown harvest taking precedence over a small presence such as his as he now walked its halls in lonesome. Without permission nor invite, the Prince had taken it upon himself to join a minor boarding party and after arriving, ducking off behind the scenes, taking his place as a mere backdrop amidst the bigger screen. Gloves cleansed of his failures blood, hands intertwined behind him, he jovially strolled along, his appearance and presence unable to be discerned as Imperial nor Sith.


But deep down, his presence upon the Yards held a different meaning, the young Prince of Panatha searching for what called to him, his mentor's words still echoing within his serene mind. All it would take, is a soul. And many souls called toward him, yet, their stench and taste were spoiled, foul and disdainful. But this new scent, this new soul, its fragrance pleasantly palpable, called to him, aching to be plucked like a fresh bloom after the morning dew. Which brings us to the here and now, his stroll through the chaos a treasure hunt, as he searched for the first of many blossoms.


To Milenko's surprise, the halls were rather empty at the moment, most of the presences gathered at the southern hangar where the field was beginning to be harvested. But here, near the bowels, rarely a soul to be seen nor heard. How such a blossom managed to exist upon these cliffs of serenity, Milenko couldn't even begin to guess. Yet, perhaps, that act alone was what make its nectar all the more sweeter, beckoning him forward toward its location in such haste. A rare flower blooming in such a remote location away from the others may just provide the reasoning behind its rarity.


War may have been raging around them, painting its loving picture of blood, plasma, and horror, as was accustomed over the millennia of wars. But here, in the dullness of the gray, the blandness of the silence, and the plainness of its serenity, beauty beckoned out of sight, calling from the unknown, and painted it's own picture in secrecy, hidden behind the veil. And as Milenko turned down yet another corridor, his gaze caught sight of the blossom, guised within the vassel of a Zybrak(Tallin).


Mesmerized by the beauty of it, Milenko smiled, his gaze averting afterward toward the gaze of the being whom possessed its foliage. "My... What a beautiful soul you have. His words came out cold yet purposed, an eerie presence lingering upon them as they flowed from his lips, his smile remaining even after.


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Duel Ruling: Nok Morliss vs. Snake


Both parties attempted to assault each other using their mental powers and illusions, which is highly draining and challenging even for fully-trained Knights and Masters. It stands to reason that Nok Morliss would have some capabilities in this form of combat, although would be limited to more simple and visceral attacks. In this, I felt that Nok Morliss did an excellent job in tracing the source of the primal hunger of a sapient reptilian species: not just physical hunger, but being abandoned by its former friends and left to die. However, much of this was established by Snake in a superb retaliation post, which combined a frankly horrifying memory of being flushed into Kuat’s undoubtedly overloaded sewage system with a rather visceral description of death: being cold, alone, and in the dark--something that probably holds specific meaning to nonmammalian species.


As the duel went on, however, I feel that a few significant mistakes were made by both parties. I thoroughly approve of Nok’s concession to Snake’s attempt to shift the setting of the duel to that of his prophesied death, but he never really regained the initiative later in the duel. Instead, he followed up with an additional psychic attack that was somewhat more elaborate than could be expected from a half-trained apprentice. Instead of crafting an elaborate timeline that featured highlights of Nok’s career as a Neimoidian capitalist, it would have been a better idea to emphasize explicitly on a single memory and focus on the imagery to thoroughly craft a single scene that would nonetheless emphasize Morliss’ wealth and power. Perhaps a similar hangar scene (just about as far as being cold, alone, and in the dark as possible), watching mercenaries launch to fight on his payroll?


As for Snake, I enjoyed the fact that the character felt thoroughly comfortable in the environment of Nok’s prophesied death--why would a snake-like species be concerned to be alone and in the dark when it probably relies on an strong scent of smell and infravision to hunt? Similar to Nok, however, I feel that Snake’s psychic attacks in the final round were a bit more elaborate than could be reasonably expected from an untrained apprentice. Once again, imagery is of great importance in psychic duels--it would have been a great move to emphasize just how physically imposing a sapient viper would be in person, with more than 14 feet of scale-bound muscle, and having that behemoth hunting its victim.



By the second post, Snake gained a significant advantage by exploiting his target's fear and turning the momentum of the duel to his advantage. Snake is the victor and gets the next post.





Duel ruling: Beth Andromina vs. Camik Rhonik


In one of the hangars of the Kuat orbital rings, a squad of commando pilots led by Beth Andromina faces off with a squad of dedicated marines led by the Sith Apprentice Camik Rhonik. Prior to the fight, Beth Andromina spent a post to describe her squad’s loadout as being equipped with a mixture of projectile weapons, sonics, and blasters, as well as a pair of ysalamir harnesses--a good mixture for facing against a Sith. Camik Rhonik’s marines were armed initially with disruptors, but swapped partially to conventional blasters. Disruptors are exceptional weapons for assassins and people wanting to blast through cover, but are a poor choice for a conventional firefight--something that gave Beth an edge in the first post. It would have been a good idea to explicitly post the squad’s loadout in an earlier post (a mixture of disruptors, blasters, and grenades would have been optimal to expose and strike down the enemy).


Both sides acknowledged casualties and damage, but Beth made a good call by making an orderly withdrawal and allowing Camik to close the distance into the ysalamir bubble. Despite noticing the removal of his influence of the Force in the first post, Camik failed to follow-up on this observation in his future--a significant mistake. Camik might not have been familiar with the ysalamiri or the harnesses that they are mounted upon, but his soldiers would have been.


As the fight continued, the fact that Beth was forced to focus solely on the Sith Apprentice would have worked in Camik’s favor, giving his soldiers a chance to advance and close. This would have given Camik an opportunity to knock out the ysalamiri and give him a significant advantage over the conventional soldiers. Nonetheless, the fact that Beth was focusing almost completely on the Force-disabled Sith gave his soldiers a significant advantage, which he used in his final post and began explicitly describing some remarkably agile maneuvers, allowing his soldiers to fire on his position without risk of friendly fire. Additional use of these tactics would have been devastating.



Beth Andromina had gained a significant advantage early in the duel with sound use of fire-and-maneuver and a solid weapons loadout. Despite quickly acknowledging the presence of the ysalamiri, Camik failed to take explicit action against the soldiers carrying them and conceded this advantage. Although closing the distance and forcing Beth to focus solely on the rampaging Sith gave Camik’s marines an advantage in the final round of posting and would have allowed them to inflict heavy casualties, Beth Andromina is the victor of the duel and gets the next post.


Despite Camik’s defeat, this was an exceptionally well-written duel for a new character in the RP, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the character can do in the future.


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The Remnant was fighting for their lives on the rings of KDY and every trooper, civilian, and dockworker knew it. While imperial ISB agents worked on booting the Black Sun from the station’s computer network, imperial troops and civilian employees busied themselves with the repulsion of the multiple landing breaches that were busy being flooded by enemy troops. One such group of troopers, the Malphasians, also called the 223rd infantry regiment which was attached to the Empress’s 1st division, made their way to the mess hall which had been breached by troops under the command of Borsk. All of the Malphasians wore mite armour trimmed with green and carried a mix of heavy weapons. Upon seeing Borsk and his men they laid down a heavy wave of blaster fire.




Raven walked beside her men, the E-22 rifle’s black stock snug against her shoulder as they moved, her hands ready to bring the rifle up for a snap shot against anyone who might attempt an attack. Ten men behind her, ten in front, fully armoured, fully armed and nervous. Captain Mael walked beside her, his arm outstretched to show the holo display that was grafted onto his armour. In the swirl of action in the hologram, Raven could see the fleet fight and the enemy beachheads they had made into the station interior. Templars, Knights, Malphasian Riflemen, Caridian Rangers, all deployed into the thick of the fighting. Casualties were becoming enormous as red lines swept through stacks of unit cards on the display as soldier after soldier’s vitals registered a spike then nothing. The computer automatically discarding them as deceased. Raven scowled under helmet and began to shout an order when in front of them the forward guard cried out a warning.


“Contact Front!”


A massive droid was in the doorway and Captain Mael pushed Raven to the side as he and his men released a wave of energy, sonics, and high ex slugs into the droid. He fell and as the front line backpedeled a good half of them were engulfed in a massive explosion that knocked the air out of the lungs of the young Empress and tossed her back into a crouch. Five guardsmen were flash cooked to death in their fine armour as the rest of the guard picked themselves up from the floor. Raven looked up as she picked her discarded blaster as Mael moved towards her to help her up and she caught the eyes of a startlingly attractive woman who was leveling a blaster at her from the open and slagged doorway.




Raven swore as she pushed herself to move the same time her captain did. He threw his body in front of his empress and died a hero, the crimson bolts of the assassin’s blaster superheating his inner chest and killing him nearly instantly as he covered the empress with his body. Raven screamed in a mix of terror and rage as she snatched up her blaster and from a kneeling crouch let loose a stream of well placed shots back at the woman. Raven’s heart was pounding as she depressed the trigger, kneeling in the ruin of her friend and captain, as the rest of her fourteen men stirred and began to return fire back at the Queen of Vice. After finishing a burst of shots, Raven forced herself to move, crouching behind one of the many doorways in the hallway, her purple eyes searching for the assassin through the thick smoke. While keeping her blaster on target, supported by the doorway, she reached behind her to pluck up a grenade from her armoured lower back it was the cylindrical cryoban grenade which she knocked the protective top off of and slammed the arming mechanism into the plastoid of her thighplate. The arming mechanism triggered its three second countdown from the impact and Raven threw it into the doorway where the Assassin had been.


Her men began to spread out in the hallway, taking up firing positions as they did so, the one trooper with the red markings of a Medic, crouching beside the Guard Captain and furiously shaking his head in disgust. It was already a costly fight.




Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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