Nar Shaddaa

[Raphanel]

@Flashbandit2475 

Seeing a man dressed in armour with blaster pistols slung at his hips, on of the guards attached to the Imperial Mission on Nar Shaddaa approached. He was bare headed, and his grey plastoid helm hung from a notch on his belt. He carried a blaster Rifle slung on his back but was unarmed for the moment. 

 

“Good morning stranger, what brings you to the lovely world of Nar Shaddaa? We at the Imperial Mission are here to help as needed, we even have jobs should you be interested in using those blaster pistols for something other than show.” 

 

The guard grinned, and pointed back to the Mission on the edge of the market, whose large slanted walls, showed the old authority of the Imperial Remnant. Now combined to form the new rebel alliance with the refugees of the Galactic Alliance. 

[Raphanel]

@Flashbandit2475

The guard’s smile hardened at the display with the pistols. He put out a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. 

 

“Come now, no need to muzzle everyone in the bloody market to prove you are a gunslinger. The Imperial Mission has a wide variety of missions and jobs, but we will need more than just your word to proove you are worthy of tasks such as hunting down Sith Lords!” 

 

He broke out into a grin again. 

 

“What do you say, you want some training?” 

 

((As you are a new RPer it might be good to have some training so that you know the ropes. Hit me up on Discord, Delta73. And we can arrange some. Don’t want to see you die on the first mission!))

[Raphanel]

@Flashbandit2475

The officer looked over at the gang of three youths who were currently beating up a young twi’lek woman for whatever credits she possessed. He glanced back at the new imperial recruit then nodded. 

 

“Alright then friend.”

 

He pulled his helmet from its attachment and placed it over his close cropped hair. There was a hiss of seals connecting and his voice was amplified by the speakers built into the helmet. 

 

“Set your blasters to stun and lets engage them from close range. You first gunslinger!” 

 

((Describe your opponents before you take each one down. Give them a good description. You got this!))

[Raphanel]

@Flashbandit2475 @Mythos

The Imperial Officer grinned under his helmet at the appearance of the Rebel Officer, they were on the same side now but it was still awkward to see such a fearsom beast in a uniform. As the bandits scattered to the wind he took his helmet back off his head. “Welcome Commander, I heard that you were coming bye the Imperial Mission. I've found you an able bodied recruit for your mission.” He bowed low, and walked back to his post.

 

((Mythos is now your commanding officer))

[Raphanel]

Ryzhkov and Ivanov exchanged a knowing glance as they watched the aged training vessels begin to be escorted by tugs onto drydock at the massive orbital shipyards. The Galactic Alliance commander that had overseen the operation was certainly dealing with inner demons, and fear rolled off the man like a cloud of fuel oil. Ivanov smiled softly to her partner and together the two of them strode after the commander. After a short shuttle ride, the two imperial knights caught up to the Shistavanen as his own shuttle landed. Ivanov, being the least threatening of the pair, being a relatively young woman with slight stature and a pretty face, took the lead. She waved him down as he came off the shuttle craft with a smile and a wave. 

 

“Commander! Would you like to get a bite to eat with the two of us?”

 

She held up a silver credit chip indicating that the two of them would pay for the meal. It was at least a step to see if the Wolf like man would be open to a conversation. 

______

 

@Vox

 

The rebel alliance officer, busy with the readout of his datapad showing the enormous costs of the adventure to Anaxes, glanced up at the militia man and smiled. He fiicked up another search function on his datapad and typed a few lines of command code. He read the results then glanced back up. 

 

“Of course, they are planetside in some of the new shelters that have been constructed. Block 4ED8 if that helps any.” He glanced at the man’s name tag and then typed another line. “You are due for some R&R I believe, but your commanding officer, Mythos, may know better. He is also planetside.”

[Raphanel]

Ivanov exchanged another look with her partner and then broke into a wide grin at the Shistavanen. “To the Taste of Alderaan we go then!” 

 

There was little love in the expression of the shop owner as he watched two Imperials walk into his shop, but it had been over a century since the war crime that had scattered the population like ants before a fire. So he could bear little grudge against the young Imperial knight and her older wiser partner. So he welcomed them and their large wolflike friend and sat them down in a table in the back reserved for officers that might be discussing private ventures. Ivanov got herself a Lager an IPA for Ryzhkov. She hated the taste of IPAs and her face showed her dislike of them with a smirk that marred her freckled face with disdain Ryzhkov laughed it off then looked to Mythos. His Voice was soft and calm and friendly,

 

“So tell us about yourself Mythos, your arm seems imperial Issued, but I sense that you may carry a little dislike towards us.  I Understand the Rebel cause against the Empire completely. Even agree with it.” He looked up to see the Militia's trandoshan he had recruited earlier in the week stride through the door and beckoned him over. It would be good to have more company should anything turn sideways.

[Raphanel]

Ivanov grinned, stretching a smile across her freckled face. Also showing for the moment the grey metal that set below her lower set of teeth. A partial jaw reconstruction that was complements of a Black Sun mercenary soldier on Carida when she had just been an apprentice. She could still distantly feel that wound, the tearing sensation of a bayonet going right through the bones of her jaw, then the horrible drowning feeling from the blood leaking into her lungs while she fought to live. She blinked away the memory, letting the emotions of it, the panic, the horror fade into a buzz of feeling. Then she let them pass completely away. 

 

“But you still carry anger none the less.” 

 

She looked at the waiter as they ordered then focused back on Mythos while her partner talked to the Trandoshan. 

 

“Pray tell, What was your last encounter commander”

 

Ryzhkov answered the trandoshan, “It is not a place I frequent often, but it is a crowd favourite of the fighter jocks, mostly for their unlimited appetizers. There is good stuff on the menu too of course, what kind of diet restrictions does one of your kind have?” 

[Raphanel]

Ivanov nodded solemnly, Mythos having revealed a lot more than she had thought was possible on a first luncheon. 

 

“You lived. A blessing in this war, you crossed blades with a Sith. A Dark Jedi, A Sith, they use their darkness to justify their own actions. Enabling themselves to commit atrocity after atrocity in the name of finding themselves, finding balance, or seeking power to do some kind of good.”  She reached a hand out and tapped the side of Mythos’s mug with a metallic finger. “She fed off your Agony. And likely still does. Have you sought therapy of any kind for the Imperial Mission? They provide such a service for victims of the Sith. But I overspeak my position, I am in no place to give you advice of any kind. You are strong, and you will be stronger for the next time you cross a Sith.” 

 

She tapped her jaw with a metallic hand. 

 

“We all will be.”

 

Ryzhkov laughed lightly, and dug into his meal, a mix of potatoes and meat of some kind. “I also Eat heavily of meat but also produce from farms. Vegetables and the like. Not anything extraordinary.” He looked absentmindedly at his datapad as they spoke, then dismissed a mission notification and looked back up. “You did well at Anaxes Vox, I am glad your ship came to this system. The Rebel Alliance is blessed to have your people.” 

 

Another Star Destroyer docked in the drydock a thousand kilometers overhead, a sprinkling of lights against the stars. “What do you want to specialize in Vox? Taking down Sith, grenades, hand to hand? Anything pop out at you?”

[Raphanel]

Orders Came in from high command for all units of the Militia, Imperial Knights, and Alliance Officer Corps to go on full alert. 

 

All active units and reserve units prepare for unit assignment. 

 

Messages arrived for the Imperial Knights, @Vox, and Alliance Marshal@Mythos.

 

They were to board the Star Destroyer Misericordia, for duty stations. 

[Raphanel]

Sightless eyes remained closed behind the thin veneer of silver that latticed its way across her eyes to close itself at the nape of her neck. She knelt beside the Empress, her head bowed as if in prayer. In silent meditation as shouts echoed across the bridge of the Misericordia. There was some shock at the boarding attempt. Had they expected anything less than the full might of the Sith Empire? Did they not know that to remake the Galaxy in their own image, the Rebellion would need to be reforged anew? Did the shapeless lump of iron in its bed of coals expect the hammer and anvil? 

 

If the Rebellion expected themselves to become the sword of justice they would need to be completely remade. They would need to shed their old selves and welcome the heat of the forge. Each hammer strike would mold them, bringing the Galactic Alliance and the Imperial Remnant closer with every tortuous blow. Perhaps the old wounds would peel and fall away like slag. Here there horrors of Kuat. And there the decimation of Gala. The genocides, grudges, and blood fueds that had divided them for generations burning away. 

 

Yes. In the heat of the fire there was good to be found. A hope to cling on to as the coals burned to the very bone. So that they could step from the furnace a new thing. Into a new world and a new galaxy without the shadows of the past. She smiled and brought a gloved hand up to wipe at the corners of her visor, where a tear had found itself dripping from her sightless eyes. 

 

Yes. There was finally hope for the Rebellion, and Cassandra was glad for it. 

 

Even as she felt the oppressive spirit of Vengeance fall upon the ship. Who was this man that had bowed himself so low as to carry the demon of revenge on his shoulders? Why was his soul familiar? This was no normal vengeance, the scorn of a lover or something as petty as that, this was a life totally given to the service of destruction. 

 

She stood and bowed to the Empress. 

 

“My lady, the force dictates that we part here. Perhaps forever. With your blessing I will address the Sith on board our vessel.” 

 

The empress nodded her fair head. 

 

And so Cassandra made her way towards the spirit of vengeance that had overtaken their ship, her heart still singing the song of joy.

[Raphanel]

Behind the double bulkhead of the forward command center, the spirit of Vengeance carved his way through the lives of valiant soldiers. There were others there of course, a smaller aura of rage and anger. Untrained and unfocused, like a glowrod without a focusing crystal, shining its light in an vast array that did not light a single foot away from its source. His strength wasted in a desperate attempt at effecting the world around him through brute force and rage. An apprentice of some type, slaved to his master with the very chains he sought to break. 

 

Cassandra took a moment to direct the officers and staff within the command center to retreat further into the ship. With the Sith and the Mandalorians this far into the flagship, there was no reason for crew who had never received training on more than pistols to sacrifice their lives to delay the Sith Lords. It would do no one any more good to see fifteen more imperial names carved into a war memorial. 

 

Have mercy on us. And save us. 

 

She took a long breath to clear her mind, whispering the words of her meditation in the force, hearing a Sith placing a breaching charge on the thick bulkhead door only a few steps away. The entry to the very room she would make her stand against the Vengeance of the Sith. No place would be better. Little collateral damage, and enough room to move. But a breaching charge would put her at a disadvantage, and she could not afford to make such an error. She ignited her lightsaber. The single white blade shining brilliantly beside its two much smaller partners at the hilts. It was time for action.

 

With a single stride she slapped the door controls and slammed her saber into the bulkhead door, disintegrating the plastic explosive and the arm and hand of the man laying it. The sergeant screamed and fell away as the door slid open and she was face to face with Vengeance. His dual swords dripping the blood of good and honourable men. 

 

Her face remained passive, the force showing her everything that needed to be seen. He was familiar and he was much stronger than the last time they had met in combat. It would be a clash of speed versus strength, of joy against vengeance. Of defense against offense. With an intake of breath she summoned the force to her. Her shield and sword against the destruction of the Sith. 

 

But she was to set the stage. She took a light step forward and kicked with a force amplified strike, throwing the Sith sergeant and his shattered arm at the feet of his master with a speed only the force could provide. Before the screaming man could cut the knees out from under the Sith, Cassandra was moving forward. Following it with a blindingly fast strike with the tip of her blade at his masked face. The force desired the preservation of life, judging the lives of innocents above all others. But the blood on his swords told her that he would never stop in his quest for vengeance. Having surrendered himself fully to the way of destruction. And to preserve life she would have to risk her own and his. Such was the way of a servant of the force and an Imperial Knight. 

 

Her strike would not likely kill him outright, but it would give her the breathing room she needed to set an adequate defense. 

 

((1))

[Raphanel]

The battle around the Misericordia ebbed and flowed with a mix of Imperial, Jedi, and Galactic Alliance starfighters clashing with their compatriots from the Sith Empire. Pilots from all backgrounds and governments valiantly gave their lives to drive the Sith Lords from the Rebel Alliance flagship. They desired a better galaxy. A galaxy without the tyranny of the Sith. Where they could raise their children in peace. And they were willing to sacrifice everything to bring that vision to reality. As the battle of Nar Shaddaa raged on, Imperial Marines on board the Misericordia fought for every hallway and bulkhead, killing Mandalorians and Sith as they gave ground. It was the flow of war, and in its midst Cassandra fought. 

 

For all around her in the skies of Nar Shaddaa, the once disjointed forces of the Alliance were fighting like heroes together. Bothans beside Imperial Stormtroopers, Moffs alongside the princesses of Hapes, and Jedi alongside the Imperial Knights. And Cassandra knew that together they would overcome the darkness. 

 

So in the face of Vengeance she did not flinch, for the force was with her. 

 

Protect me from Evil

 

Vengeance screamed. A bellow of primal rage rage at the death of his subordinate, whose body had broken against the legs of his own master. It was the scream of the tortured soul. A man who had lost everything in his own quest for power and revenge. A man who could not comprehend that his own actions had led him here. That this long journey through mountains of corpses of the innocent and guilty to find his Vengeance had brought the deaths of everything he loved and respected. Through Dark Lord and Lover alike. Wading through blood that sucked at his boots, to the fastness of his own grave. 

 

She did not know what to think of the man who was Vengeance. And as he began his own series of attacks she found herself feeling a strange detached pity. 

 

A strike slashed at her face and she took a quick step back to give herself the space to set a defense. She brought her lightsaber up at an angle redirecting the overhand blow and letting him waist his considerable strength on the air. Her arms jarred against the blow but the force held her fast.  She knew however, that if she had been foolish enough to block on a flat plane to his strike, she would have likely broken her own arms in the attempt. 

 

The next strike was a thrust, faster than the eye could move, and as she twisted her torso, she could feel the sword's blade cut through the armour on her side. Ripping a bloody rent through the flesh as it glanced past. There would be a lot of pain from the strike, but for now the adrenaline of the fight was enough to keep it abated. Though pure red blood dripped down her white armour. She let out a breath and took another. Relying on the force to guide her actions. 

 

She had trained for nearly three decades. First as a Jedi, then in the Revanchist Imperial Knights in the infancy of the Galactic War. So her training and the force would move for her. She took a second step back to the side the strike had come from, her movements as eyeblindingly fast as the Sith’s own strikes. She loaded her weight on her back leg and as the sword rushed by she sprang in again at his undefended side. 

 

She brought her glowing white saber in an overhead strike that slashed at his shoulder and upper arm. And as she stepped forward into the gap, her armored boot struck at the side of his knee with the speed and strength of the force.

 

((2))

[Raphanel]

Anger leeched off of him in waves. Pouring like scarlet blood from every pore, fueling him even as it ate away at his very being. Rage at everything in his life. His long and eternal struggle, his bitterness, his loneliness. They screamed off of him and into the force. Frustration with everything that had brought him here. Every choice his own. His Vengeance which was still trapped by chains he himself could not break. It was tragic. Like a man picking at his own scabs and complaining about the blood that dripped from his fingers. Her heart ached for him. 

 

What was the pity that stirred in her heart? Was it the same pity she had seen when the beggars cried for credits at the street corners? That same pity that caused her to reach for her ration cards and press them into dirty and grimy hands? No. It was the pity of seeing what a great man he could have been, had another choice been presented to him those many years ago. What great good could have lain behind that shattered mask and bloodied face? What vision was there for a man that had caused the deaths of everyone he had ever loved, yet continued down the path of the damned?

 

Forgive him

 

A strange prayer of meditation on her lips. Not for herself, not for her empress, but for the man who roared in rage before her. Two years ago she would have tried to kill the man without a second thought. Writing him up as too far gone and too much trouble to deal with. And did not this man have enough chances to redeem himself? Did he not come to kill them all and bring ruin to the world five thousand kilometers below them? 

 

A law court would call for his head. Even the moffs would call for her to show no mercy. Her compatriots in the revanchist rebellion against the Jedi would call for a swift death to the Sith Master. But the Imperial Knights were no servants of law. They were servants of the Force itself. And the force called for a different approach. 

 

And what better weapon against vengeance was there than forgiveness, love, and mercy?

 

And as the Sith moved from his crouch, she felt the force move within her. An emotion called out from her past, driving an unbidden smile to her stern face. She was grateful. Grateful for the Jedi that had raised her, grateful for the warm and loving hands that had led her down the path of compassion. She was grateful for the life that she had lived, the good  she had brought to the galaxy, the stands against injustice she had made. And grateful that the force had given her this last opportunity to clash with Vengeance. 

 

Two strikes came, carried with the strength and accuracy that a Sith in a berserking rage was known for. She could feel his anger with every stroke. Every fell hammering blow coming with the power of a mountain of rage behind them. Both swords swinging up towards her stomach as he rose, and she let them spend their strength in the air as she took a small step back onto her back foot. Relying on her enhanced speed and agility to clear her centimeters away from the tips of the dark blades. Her own saber held in a high guard. 

 

She would have counter attacked then, taking the opportunity to strike at his exposed side again, but the rage was on him and it was all that she could do to keep her defense up. His two blades striking at her head and shoulder, forcing her to duck into a crouch to avoid getting beheaded, the last strike gouging through the armor on her shoulder and opening a red wound in the flesh above the end of her clavicle. Before her lightsaber deflected it up and away.

 

But his knee was coming up towards her side as she summoned the force to her. Bringing her right hand off the saber guard and slapping it against his thigh. The force crashing as a pearl white barrier that deflected the majority of the power of the blow before his kneecap slammed into her side. 

 

Pain flared like a thousand suns in her side, illuminating to a broken rib or two. The Sith’s attack had found purchase, but she was not dead. Not broken. And she was inside his guard.

 

He had overextended. Overeager for a killing blow that would bring his Vengeance. For anger and rage were double edged blades. Easily destroying wielder as well as prey.  

 

She stepped past him. Relying on her force enhanced speed as to not get caught by whatever blow would come next. Their bodies were so close as she passed that she could taste the rage in him, bitter and bloody on her tongue. Her saber arm struck at the same time as her other hand. Saber towards the underside of his arms, while her fingers struck at his bare and exposed eyes where her first blow had found purchase. Striking with the speed and power of the force as she stepped by him and back into a high guard. Her breathing ragged from the pain in her side. 

 

It would be enough to bring the fight to an end. To leave the man without his vengeance and a last path to redemption. To break the chains that still held him to a dark and bitter path. 

 

((3))