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It wasn't much of a trip, or so it felt like just mere moments for Mythos. Because as soon as he got comfortable, he felt the shaking thud of the transport touching down within the Montjoie. Disembarking, Mythos placed the metallic mask her wore to hide his identity upon his face, shook his duster loose of dirt and debris, and began walking the large hangar as he made his way toward the lift leading to the bridge. Just as requested, both the Galactic Alliance Marines and the Imperial Troopers were aboard and preparing themselves for departure, the smell of disdain lingering in the air as the tension between the two groups brought static into the air at mere glances. Mythos shook his head and loaded aboard the lift.

 

Moments later he was aboard the bridge and preflight checks were under way. Still, a part of him stood on edge despite the low threat given to the mission. He couldn't help but feeling his hair standing on ends.

 

(@Flashbandit2475.... just catch up when you can.)


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Vox nodded them nudged his head forward, a sign given to his men to move out. They pulled two massive crates be them filled with ammunition, weapons and spare armor parts and whatever munitions they had left. The bulky beasts made their way aboard the massive vessel, the troops alert for traps while Vox simply followed the knight. It was truly odd to his troops, for the first time they watched as their leader was following instead of leading however their thoughts and whispers broke as Vox spoke clearly and vocally. 

 

"Varsus and Krexis, you're with me. The rest of you remain with our new acquaintances," Vox ordered in native tongue, needing only his two capable soldiers for the mission.

 

Varsus was a recruit back on Trandosha, young and full of energy but also as dumb as a rock. He was a good kid, honorable and loyal, took orders well and was willing to learn but gods below he wasn't the brightest. This would prove a test of his true worth. Hopefully he could survive without getting his hands blown off, he was proficient with a Puncture and a Mauler with Incidiary grenades. 

 

Krexis was a Shroud, or a sniper who was a recruit alongside Vox all those years ago. Quick on his feet, quick with a trigger and a sharper mind than a knife, Krexis was fully loyal and barely questioned his chieftain lest it was to give a suggestion. With these two more in shape than the rest, Vox was confident in his choice. He wielded a Widower rifle and both a Mauler and Spiker, generally having two spike and an Incidiary grenade as well. 

 

Already they were ready to take off, but Vox had a distinct feeling that there would be an alteration to their uniforms. Their own armor was the sign of how tested their metal was, it was strong, sturdy, and have been a symbol of their tribe for many years and long ago. Vox didn't want that change, perhaps making the armor better and change in color would be well but switching while suits was not something he wanted. 

 

"If by chance we are to utilize newer uniform, can we alter our armor instead?" Vox asked the knight in common Trandoshan, hoping for a decent answer, "And are we leaving now for this assistance?"

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The Imperial Knight looked up from his datapad as he used his finger to sign the transfer orders. 

 

“Yes you may go ahead and alter your uniforms, though by the time you are done with this assignment I think you may get an actual imperial commission instead of a militia posting.” 

 

He tapped his lightsabre and walked down the gangplank onto the massive star destroyer. He smiled back at them, his grin wide. 

 

“Come along, we have a planet to save!” 

 

He laughed to himself as the Montjoie began to cast off. 

 

((@Vox You are now joining commander Mythos and this imperial knight on their way to Anaxes as well as the next posting. ))


 


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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Co-Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Vox continued his path, either of his two War Kin tagging on both sides. Perhaps he should have brought the other four men along the trip? They were going to battle and he knew said four couldn't keep going, as optimistic as he was Vox was exhausted but he still had strength, Varsus was younger and had plenty energy while Krexis... Stayed Krexis, he kept to himself. Chaox would have been perfect for the mission as he was the demolitions expert and naturally a better tactician than even Vox, but he was rash and thought of victory too soon, to add he took hard blows that hadn't healed and several broken ribs. Equinox couldn't focus, that was enough said. Romulus was too important to become a casualty of harm or death, and the newer recruit nearly jad his leg blown off. 

 

No, this was the best choice. Vox had hoped he could rest after this scuffle otherwise he will swear he'll sleep in the middle of blasterfire. The three followed, their faces covered from staring individuals and their eyes by their black visors. To Nudono customs, Vox was a heretic, but after he became righrful chieftain he got to make the calls. And if it would take long to edit their armor then now wouldn't be a good time. He followed the laughing knight, wordless as the other two Trandoshans made mental notes of their surroundings and people.

 

(( @Raven ZinthosThat's chill))

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The next few weeks were not kind to Admiral Slaughter. On multiple occasions, senators of the Galactic Alliance begged that he divert forces to the defense of their home sectors. Slaughter’s response to these requests/demands were to glance at a plaque that a junior officer had recently affixed to the wall of his office, grind his teeth, and quietly growl in the back of his throat while resisting the urge to hang up on those self-important bureaucrats and return to the work that mattered: getting his battered fleet into drydock so it could be repaired in preparation for the next campaign.

 

That plaque was a slab of plain durasteel engraved with two words: “Be nice.”

 

Repairs completed, next step was to seize control of the Black Sun’s captured vessels that had remained in orbit under the guns of a twitchy Rebel fleet. Commandeering a Victory II-class Star Destroyer was a daunting task; each vessel was home to upwards of six thousand sapients and a brigade of shock troopers. The operation of seizing the bridge and engineering compartments of the heavy cruisers was likely to cost the lives of scores of Alliance soldiers if the Black Sun was determined to resist.

 

Admiral Slaughter took up his station on the bridge. Fidelity rested at point-blank range to Red Hussar, her broadside aimed squarely at the primary hangar of the Victory II-class Star Destroyer. In a moment, he could give the order to unleash a volley of turbolaser fire that would detonate the smaller vessel’s ammunition reserves, cracking Red Hussar in two--killing most of the crew in an instant and leaving the Rebel Alliance with nothing more than a hulk that would take months to salvage.

 

A Twi’lek yeoman approached with a dataslate and a mug of caf--extra-hot and slightly-viscous, just like all good navy caf. “Remember, Admiral, be nice.”

 

Slaughter’s jaw worked in annoyance for a moment, then he took a sip of caf and hailed Red Hussar.

 

Red Hussar, this is Fidelity Actual. We are taking possession of your vessel. Direct your marine complement to remain in their barracks and prepare to receive a command crew.  ”

 

“Acknowledged, Fidelity. Ah… I can’t guarantee that my men will comply with that order. They’re a bit nervous about what will happen to them after they surrender.”

 

That yeoman glanced across the tactical pit and mouthed the words Be nice. A strangled growling sound began to issue from the back of Slaughter’s throat.

 

“Captain, Dark Sun got ugly, but it was an honest fight. That’s war.” Slaughter forced a deep breath. The Rebel Alliance was in no position to house thousands of prisoners of war in its current state; he obviously couldn’t hand that information to an opposing officer, but conducting dozens of courts martial was a waste of time and resources. “Tell your men that they’ll be debriefed, then they will be free to go wherever they like as long as they swear to never take up arms against the G--Rebel Alliance. And if any of them are willing to listen, we can always use talented soldiers.”

 

Minutes passed. Slaughter considered the prospect of having a squad of marines cut into the command superstructure.

 

The response finally came. “My men will stand down. Don’t let them down.”

 

Once Red Hussar began lumbering towards Nar Shaddaa’s overworked shipyards, Silent Spring surrendered control to the Rebel Alliance with fewer dramatics. Over the next weeks, the two Victory II-class Star Destroyers completed a transformation into heavily-armed missile cruisers that bristled with racks of assault concussion missile tubes and concussion missile emplacements. They would sacrifice the bulk of their turbolaser complement, but what they sacrificed in their broadside they would gain in a massive first-strike capability.

 

____

 

Two days later, Slaughter checked on the progress of a project that he had directed Fidelity’s engineers to immediately after Dark Sun. Time and time again, he had encountered fleets whose fire control and starfighter coordination capabilities outmatched his own--whether through some esoteric Force technique, or the combined calculations of billions of droid brains. If the Rebel Alliance was going to function as an effective resistance, it would need command and coordination capabilities to match those of the Sith in order to launch coordinated hit-and-run attacks. That would require the assistance of the Jedi Order.

 

No one in the Rebel Alliance actually knew what kind of facilities a Jedi required to deploy Battle Meditation; there were only a few Padawans and junior Knights in its ranks, and none of the Rebellion’s engineers were Force-Sensitive. Still, they vowed to give the project their best efforts.

 

Admiral Slaughter stepped into what had previously been one of Fidelity’s smaller conference rooms and was astonished at its transformation. The moment the stocky man set foot within the meditation chamber, as the engineers were calling it, the sounds of the ship became muted. The silence left Slaughter uneasy; he was accustomed to the ever-present hums and unidentifiable creaks of an operational warship. The ceiling of the room had been lifted by two meters and an enormous tactical holoprojector had been situated in the center of the chamber.

 

The fact that his engineers knew nothing about the Force, however, soon became apparent. Masses of multicolored crystals--almost certainly synthetic, grown in the last month--were situated around the room in patterns that he supposed conformed to the dictates of some foreign philosophy of spatial arrangement and energy flow. Those ancient ideas of architecture were obviously outmoded, but it was all they had to operate on without access to the Jedi archives. Bruce stopped before a pillar of synthetic amethyst and stared.

 

“This is supposed to be… helpful?”

 

“Ah… amethyst is supposed to help concentrate energy? And the jade helps soothe extreme emotion and helps with balance?” The explanations from his chief engineer came out as questions.

 

Slaughter sniffed and caught the scent of something burning. Something… woody. Not unpleasant. Almost like a perfume that his late wife used to wear…

 

“Is that incense?”

 

“Yes! It helps to cleanse the air and…. remove--”

 

“--Remove impurities?” The two Rebel officers finished at the same time. “Chief, you really don’t have any idea what you’re doing, do you?” A helpless shrug was his response. “I’m going to ask the Jedi for help on this one.”


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As the Montjoie finished her preflight checks and lifted from the hollowed dry docks that bustled her frame, Mythos gave a nod toward the Commander on Deck before grabbing the dataslate he had been handed from his pocket and headed toward the hangar. Now was the time for the brass tactics, his presence upon the bridge more of a hindrance than a necessity. He was a creature of war and personal confrontation, not a visor of the range and fleet. And he would not pretend to be such. 

 

After the brief ride down from the bridge to the hangar, Mythos, towering above most, quickly noticed the culmination of the squads he had requested, a brewing mixture of Imperial Troopers and Alliance Marines.... and Trandoshans? Mythos was actually taken aback a bit as he encountered the small group (@Vox) that now integrated within the group, the Shistavanen actually having to look up at someone as others often did him. His gaze stared at their leader as he walked beneath him and toward the forefront before turning around and opening a channel across the hangar's frequency. 

 

"I'm sure all of you are wondering why you stand next to each other...." He spoke, his grizzled voice still barely above a whisper even with the enhanced tone of the hangar's comm system. "Especially with a former Alliance Marshal at the helm. But with the loss of Coruscant and Hesperidum, we no longer have the luxury of despising one another. Imperials and Galactic Alliance... they are no longer names to separate us. We are the Rebel Alliance, or simply Rebels if you prefer. And you lucky few are the first bunch to get to know what it's like to work together. Don't like it? Take it up with your superiors. Until we return, you're mine. Got it? Good."

 

Mythos sighed, the raspy tone of it gurgling across the air waves as he bypassed the pleasantries and got right down to business.

 

"Our target if the War College at Anaxes. We get in, evacuate the members, wipe the drives, set charges, and get out before it crumbles with minimal casualties. After that, we gather what remains of our assets and we head home. Any questions? Mythos let a brief moment of silence linger, but quickly speaking again before any questions could truly be asked. "I didn't think so. Grab some chow and prepare yourselves. Dismissed.

 

Just as Mythos spoke, the ship shifted beneath them as it entered hyperspace and they were off toward their destination.

 

((If you want to do any introductions or have anything to do before we reach Anaxes, post in the Space thread. Otherwise, I'll post our arrival at Anaxes in three RL days. I'm also available in DMs on Discord if any OOCly questions are needed))


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Vox and co. stopped and stood with the rest of the individuals as he assumed that's where he was going. He witnessed seemingly two different factions of the same cause yet there seemed to be an air of ire against one another. Some looked at the chieftain and his two soldiers whispering as to what they were. No one had seen armor like their and the helmets did nothing to give any familiar features until the chieftain spotted an individual walk toward the entire group. This was most likely the acting leader of the mission that knight spoke of, and if that was the case then Vox would be more respectful. 

 

Pressing two clips on either side and twisting left just slightly the chieftain pulled his helm off to which the sealed are in it gave a hiss as it escaped. His two soldiers did likewise albeit Varsus had trouble taking his helmet off properly and had help from the pale scaled Nudono Krexis. Successful as they were, Varsus was revealed to have a lush green scale pattern with diagonal stripes of mud brown and orange. Vox himself was lush green as well but had blotches of lighter green shades. Krexis... Was Krexis, he had no patterns, not even a single dot of different scale, just pale white. The three remained silent as this commander stared at the Trandoshans, clearly them waiting for him to speak. 

 

The Commander gave his instructions, Vox carefully listening to him as the details of the mission were quite simple. When he said few casualties Vox immediately thought that the group might have resistance, from who he didn't know. The Commander then asked if people had any questions to which Varsus' hand slowly lifted until Krexis slapped it, luckily going unnoticed save for the foreign troops closest to them. The Commander demanded they get something to eat then dismissed them, the Chieftain simply giving a nod and walked away just a few feet. 

 

Vox was quick to set his helmet down and look over his weapons, making sure they weren't damaged in the slightest. Scratches and small cuts were present but given their time of usage and wear it was obvious they would have some form of light damage. But it appeared it was nothing to worry about, nothing that messed with the firing mechanisms nor any parts of the weapons. Krexis on the other hand knew his weapons were quite functional and chose not to go over them, Varsus doing the exact same except he seemed... Anxious. Anxious to leave and go on a real mission instead of constantly running. He seemed excited, Vox concentrated on his thoughts and weapons while Krexis pulled a small hand-sized bag out and began to grab pieces of dried meat. 

 

"So sir," Krexis spoke for the first time, his tone was near silent and calm as he sat on a crate, "The mission details a rescue, grab and go if I'm not mistaken." 

 

Vox sat next to his fellow troop and pulled a strip of venison from the pouch. He took a bite and savoured the salty-sweet spices that were cooked with it. He then spoke after a minute of chewing, "Yes, the three of us will be going in lest we are ordered elsewhere. If we are met with opposition, armed forces against our new... Companions, I need you to hang back and act as Shroud, Krexis. If we meet said opposition I need eyes and ears from a vantage point, but if conflict isn't met then you'll be with Varsus and I." 

 

"I understand." Krexis replied. 

 

"So... Will we be fighting or are we going into the aftermath?" Varsus asked. 

 

"Most likely there will be a fight. If there isn't I would be surprised. Remember, we need to get to a medium range with our weapons, we don't have anything long ranged lest it's a Puncture Rifle," Vox stated nudging the weapon, "Eat, and rest for a few minutes. I don't know how long the travel will take."

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“Actually…” Draygo counted down on her fingers as she recalled the essential parts for a lightsaber. “I think that we have everything we’ll need right here.

 

“Mother spent tens of thousands on a state-of-the-art plasma lathe and enough computational power to give Usk-Core a… uhm...  but she couldn’t be bothered to restore life support to half the Shipface.” Armiena chuckled. “She knows my priorities. No, I think that what one Jedi could pull off while undercover with a pirate gang, we can easily manage with our own ship. Circuitry, vortex ring… flux aperture… we should be able to scavenge those from the unused rooms of the ship. Only problem is finding the battery--as I recall the specs recommend something a bit archaic.”

 

Armiena snapped her fingers, but the hand being metal, it only produced a spine-shivering scraping noise. “The surveying equipment on board might work. Those electronics do not take kindly to sudden power loss. We can scavenge the batteries from those. The crystal, however, is all you. There are some suitable caverns out on the Khoonda Plains--actually, rather lovely, though kinraths sometimes take shelter there during the hot months. Speaking of which…”

 

Draygo led her Padawan up the boarding ramp and to the cockpit on the second deck of the obsolete freighter. True to her warning, both the passenger’s compartments were sealed permanently and taped off, indicating that the rooms had suffered minor breaches are were no longer vacuum-proof. The cockpit, however, was entirely modern--nearly factory-new--and boasted sensors that military reconnaissance operations would have envied. As to what season it was currently on Dantooine, Armiena glanced through the galactic atlas and summarized her conclusion with two words:

 

“Well, shavit. And apparently it’s unusually hot this season.” A short sigh. “We’ll make do. Let’s go through pre-flight…..”

 

The veteran Jedi led her student through the pre-flight checklist for the obsolete vessel. Once a corridor had been cleared, Armiena handed the controls over to Genesis and allowed him to guide Shipface out of the hangar. Her voice was preternaturally calm as she guided her fellow half-Miraluka through the basic maneuvers, not at all concerned over the fact that she had just handed the controls of her ship to an inexperienced pilot…

 

She would, however, slump just a few millimeters once the Barloz-class Freighter launched into hyperspace.

 

((Usk-Core: University of Coruscant. Obviously no longer exists.))

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I always enjoyed watching Maater Armiena wonder off into her incoherent mumbles of techo-babble, the Elder Miraluka obviously holding vast knowledge where I held little to none. For the most part, I simply tried to keep up and gather what little I could from what she discussed, finding subtle hints to what each part meant by simply following the discussion in bits and piecing it together in my head. Such was the difference between us in such areas. But I still found it enjoyable nonetheless.

 

The scratching noise of her artificial prosthetic caused me to flinch and lose the imagery within my head, but thankfully Armiena quickly boarded and I followed just a foot behind. There were major differences in the ship that I noticed as we made our way to the cockpit, certain sections sealed off and taped for reasons oblivious to me that made me slightly weary, but I shook it off as damages sustained during its fleeing of Coruscant and likely whatever Misal encountered afterwards, continuing onward to the cockpit which I could definitely see a major improvement in, my gaze shifting toward Master Armiena  as she inspected, the obvious signs of their mother and daughter relationship abundant in their shared fields of study. She was definitely Misal's daughter, of that, there was no doubt.

 

Shifting back to the conversation we were having before, I tried to get a word in edgewise about there being no need of visiting the Khoonda plains nor the crystal caves located there, my hand slipping into my pocket to bring forth the very object she sought, but when she got like this, it was just best to sit back and go along for the ride. Perhaps she had other reasons to chance the kinrath and visit them, so I simply nodded and followed her lead. Or at least as best as I could.

 

My stomach was in knots and I felt the urge to regurgitate as she handed the controls over to me, evident by the trembling of my hands as they slide across and gripped the ship's controls. It felt weird, a good weird to be honest, like something I could enjoy once I gathered the hang of it. But in the here and now, with my hands trembling like a man with tourettes, there was no enjoyment to be found and only caution plagued my thoughts.

 

But somehow, some way, I managed to usher the ship out of the hangar with only a minor groaning of metal against metal as I etched a hairline scratch into the ship's thick hull, before we hit open space and I engaged the hyperdrive, memories of Dantooine encompassing my mind. 


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As the Montjoie exited hyperspace above Nar Shadaa, the secured members of the College and the acquired Doctrines aboard, as well as the rescued Ships in tow, Mythos sighed a sigh of relief. The mission to Anaxes was completed without a single hitch. Gathering his things, he left the bridge and after sending his report to @Sgt. Slaughter, made his way to shuttle bay of the drydocks where @Voxand @ISB Officer(s) were to meet and head to their debriefing.

 

"Job well done men." Mythos spoke in a congratulatory tone, patting Vox and the others upon the backs as he pulled his duster onto him form and made his way to the shuttle that would bring them to Headquarters for the debrief.

 

Within eye shot of the Imperial Knight that had brought back the commissioned ships, Mythos stopped dead, the flickering of the forms plaguing his vision and dreams being caught out the corner of his dilated eyes. His breath grew heavy as the fear sat in, similar to what those with PTSD would display, only this was a different form. It was her memories, that of the Sith's, converging into his reality that he displayed, and it was beginning to only get worse as time went on. Especially in moments of dire duress or fatigue, both of which was beginning to set themselves upon him after such a worrisome mission.

 

Shaking his head, shifting his gaze to see if anyone saw him or the figure save for the Imperial Knight he seemingly missed observing him, Mythos dusted the collar of his duster and climbed aboard, closing his eyes as he sat down upon the bench and awaited to the ride planetside.

 

For Mythos, this was an unnatural occurrence, part of him wanting to blame PTSD or perhaps a repercussion of his near death experience at Dark Sun on a scientific level. But the other half felt and knew that the Sith's mystical power had something to do with this, whether lingering from the fight or a curse placed upon him after. He wasn't completely sure. All he was sure about was that it was beginning to get to him and that could pose a problem in future missions. Perhaps one of the medics could provide a stimulant after the debriefing, or perhaps something to help him sleep it off since he hadn't gotten much sleep since. Either way, something had to be done. Crossing his remaining arm across his eyes, he stayed in that position until he felt the transport land planetside.


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Vox took the pat as a sign of good fortune, seeing Mythos congratulate the others it looked as if there was nothing more. The least Vox did was complete his task and hopefully, hopefully soon they can find a suitable planet for his people. In due time it will happen, and he hoped he wasn't just another body on the field. The Trandoshan turned and saw his other two comrades walk toward him, meeting them halfway, they would agree to meet up with the others... Wherever they were on this ship. He went to the nearest officer or whoever looked to be in command. 

 

"Pardon, but I ask where the rest of my people are and if you could show me," Vox asked an individual, "I'm not necessarily sure as to what we need to do... Should we rest that is better but if there is another assignment, preferably with only myself or two of us then I'll accept it." 

 

((I'm so sorry for the short post, this is for whoever answers... Up to y'all!))

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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.”


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Cassandra Vinalian - Exorcist -  Champion for Empress Raven Nasra

 

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As Mythos felt the shuttle land, he removed his arm and stood up, stretching his gigantic form as he did, his fur ruffling in response. He had caught a brief amount of sleep on the ride down, and while it may not have been enough, it would sustain him until he could properly catch up. Looking around for the apparitions and seeing none, he disembarked.

 

Just as he turned and started making his way to the medical ward, he smelt the approach of two Imperial Knights, the littlest of the two finishing it. Personally, he'd rather steer clear of the Imperial personnel as much as he could. But given the recent mission and Admiral Slaughter's own attempt to find a middle ground with them, he figured what harm could come of it.

 

"Sure little one." He spoke, leaning his gaze down toward her as his eyes shifted toward her compatriot. "I suppose a bite to eat before our debriefing wouldn't hurt."

 

Nor would it hurt to show the others the means of narrowing the gap between former Alliance members who still held grudges toward their Imperial counterparts now that the Rebel Alliance was beginning to come to fruition. He needed to set an example if this Alliance was going to truly work.

 

Reaching into his pocket, Mythos pulled out a Golden Credit Stick and held it between his index and middle fingers of the artificial arm that Sandy had attached for him as he smiled a bit forcefully. "But please, allow it to be my treat" Mythos voice strained as he bowed properly and offered her to take the lead, the Shistavanen's real arm extended.


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Vox nodded and turned to the direction of the shuttles ready to take off, in turn Krexis spoke in a calm and quiet manner, "PlanetSide? I don't expect they would have a currency we can use for supplies?" 

 

"Yeah! And what about our situation? Aren't we looking for a new home or something?" Varsus asked a little too loudly, not that it mattered since it was in the Nudono tongue. 

 

Vox sighed, placing his Puncture Rifle on the magnetic clamp used to holster it. Indeed, that thought came again but he knew it would take time... the Chieftain looked down at the still armored recruit and considered how to best answer. Varsus would ask questions nonstop unless snapped at but it was all for good reason, he and everyone else were worried of the current stance with their new... allies. Sure Vox and co. completed a minor mission or whatever was above minor, still he knew well they'd have to work to earn a full in trust and compliance from these Imperials. It was outside the realms of what the tribe was used to doing and they had no choice but to take chances: either suffocate or deal with outsiders. 

 

The Chieftain finally answered Varsus while unclipping his helmet and a hiss escaped as a sign of released oxygen, "Our situation is a temporary home and servicing these outsiders simple as that. And yes, we are here for a new home however we must fulfill our end of the deal in order to prove our worth, gain trust, and find a true partnership. We can't rush this process, in doing so would create skepticism and they would lose tolerance. For now, the ball is in our hands, we best not drop it." 

 

Varsus was ready to ask a question as he took removed his helm but the still covered Krexis thumped the recruits side, shaking his head as a warning to not push any further. Varsus exhaled a little loudly out of frustration, Krexis removed his helmet as well to show the snow white scales he possessed. The two followed their leader as they boarded on the shuttles ready for takeoff, Krexis still waiting for an answer as Vox sat down. As far as the white Trandoshan knew Vox was contemplating and he sat down next to his leader, leaning back into the metal wall of the ship to help relax his nerves. 

 

"We'll have to," Vox finally answered after the ship made a jerk taking off, "I'll need to find our current commander but I'll see what I can do. Mythant I think his name was." 

 

Krexis relaxed at that answer, knowing his Chieftain always came through despite the recent losses. For the three soldiers, this small mission helped ease their minds as failures, the sniper and recruit took a brunt of their own blames as there were no right decisions in the lives they lost... only seven total remained. First was leaving, more than seventy percent of the tribe left with Vox, including the seven survivors that were present. Then came the hijacking of a Black Cloak warship, tracked down a day later and the Black Cloaks ships were defeated, but the Trandoshans crashed from unexpected damage on an ice world losing more than ninety percent of the tribe not to the ships landing, but to the frigid cold. These times were dire. 

Vox closed his eyes as to ease his mind, focus his thoughts and goals, what to do from here on out. "R&R," Wasn't exactly a word he knew but it seems to relate to rest from what he could gather. Maybe. His eyes opened however with a roll as Varsus began to talk, not exactly sure what it was, but he spoke in of course questions. He sat up properly from a slump and turned to the young Trandoshan who was up with a helmet in hand. 

 

"So... are you up yet?" Varsus asked impatiently. 

 

What? Vox only closed his eyes for a second or so he thought. Krexis reached out with a hand and helped his leader up, and there it was, a sudden shift from awake to near sleep and fatigue. His body felt tore and began to pulsate in pain in certain areas. Standing up was sending jolts of aching down his spine, alas Vox remained standing as he made his way out of the shuttle. The area was clearly city, more of a "poor side" if such a thing existed much like a slums except this was more acceptable, they were right outside a simple Imperial building used as a station for deliveries and troop assignment for recruit from the area. As the trio stepped out of the shuttle they were given odd looks by Imperials and passerbys alike, individuals wondering about why there were Trandoshans here and why on God's earth they wore odd attire. 

 

The Chieftain walked away from the building as well as his company and started down a street until he spotted one of his soldiers sitting outside sharpening the blade of his Puncture. He was in no more than a loincloth, deep blue and brown scales covered his body in blotches with small strips of yellow spotting his scales. He looked up and gave a nod to Vox who replied with, "Get some clothes on you heathen." 

 

"I'm going to look for Mython, you stay here and rest." Vox stated to Krexis and Varsus giving them his helmet. Regardless of his armor and openly carrying weapons, Vox had no worries of how he looked as long as people strayed from his path. As he walked, the Chieftain went from the simple and lesser side of the city to the better and prettier within thirty minutes. Gazing at the sights, looking at the different shops from jewelry to simple items were quite interesting but when a certain smell hot him Vox couldn't help but follow it. Different smells, cooked foods of many kinds were scattered between restaraunts of various names. His Common wasn't great, Vox opted to use Traditional Trandoshan as that was the closest he could get to a fluent language. Looking at each sign and name, colors and sizes, Vox wasn't sure with what to do until he saw a familiar face. 

 

"Mythis," Vox said to himself as he entered the 'Taste of Alderaan,' unaware whether it was a reserved or whether there was a line he simply waltzed in clear on his mindset.

 

@Mythos

Edited by Vox

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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.


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Cassandra Vinalian - Exorcist -  Champion for Empress Raven Nasra

 

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Mythos followed their lead toward a little restuarant near the Imperial Base, a well known establishment for the middle class who preferred better tastes for a smaller credstick, as well as Officers and Higher Clientele whom preferred a more low key locale. As the shop keeper lead them to their table, Mythos removed his mask in the darker lighting, exposing his true visage and the scars he bore across his experienced face. As the two Knights ordered their drink preferences, Mythos ordered a round of Corellian Whiskey for the three with a Tarisian Ale for a chaser.

 

"Its not you or your Order personally." Mythos began, his grumbled voice revealing the hidden incorrect healing of his once sliced vocal cords. "But more toward the ideology and standing that comes with any Empire, especially those before your's."

 

Mythos had just turned back the larger shot of Corellian Whiskey when he saw @Vox enter the establishment, the Shistavanen taking a drink from the pitcher sized mug the owner had brought for him as he stood and waved the Trandoshan over. Setting the mug down, he looked back toward Ryzhkov, the maw scar draping his eye apparent even in the dimmed lighting. "That, and I dont care much for the mystic energy you call the Force or those who use it."

 

As Vox began to head in their direction, Mythos sat back down, pulled a unoccupied chair from another table, and made room for the new arrival, taking another large gulp from his mug and licking away the access and foam from his own jaws. "As a former Alliance Marshal, its left a certain disdained taste in my mouth, and after the recent skirmish at Dark Sun Station, it hasn't gotten any sweeter. It may have not been my first encounter with a Sith,"

 

Mythos cringed slightly as the hairless scar across his back burned in memory as he mentioned his first encounter as well as his own mind wondering across the recent plaguing of memories belonging to the last encounter, causing his gaze to shift to his artificial replaced arm at the hands of the Knight Sandy as he balled its metallic fist up and released it. "But this last encounter was unlike any other before." Shifting his eyes from Ryzhkov to his mug, Mythos tipped up to finish it off and held it up for a refill.


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Vox saw one individual wave him over then @Mythos waved him over pulling a vacant chair to their table. He moved mindful not to crash into anyone or run them over, considering the size and bulk of the Trandoshan he was a hulk amongst all in the restaurant with the only contender possibly coming close was Mythos himself. That said, Vox didn't want to stir problems if he bumped into someone... not that it was a problem, people were moving out of the way for him to avoid any contact themselves. This was out of the ordinary, usually he was surrounded by his brothers and sisters and now nothing but strangers, even the people he was bound to serve were deemed simply as contractors until he can do what was needed for the Nudono. 

 

The Trandoshan's mind wavered as hunger almost took over from the smell of grills, pots and pans cooking, and steamers and ovens blowing out heat and scents of a variety of wonders. His mind was knocked back to reality when a passer-by shoved past Vox trying to quickly leave the place. He let it go, understanding that being in the way has that effect on people. Perhaps his contractors can get a meal for the Trandoshan? Afterall, he was there to see how credits worked and ask for help regarding supplies and shops but a sit-down wouldn't hurt. His crew had reserves to eat from despite dried seasoned strips of meat, or jerky, being a tiring meal. 

 

"I assume this is one of many places you go after a mission?" Vox asked in Trandoshan sitting down, granted the chair itself was made of metal it still creaked slightly under the reptilians weight, "It's neat. I've never seen so many lights or people at one local food stand." 
 

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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?” 


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Cassandra Vinalian - Exorcist -  Champion for Empress Raven Nasra

 

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"Liquor helps..." Mythos spoke in response to her comment about his anger toward her kin, the Shistavanen smiling a gruesome attempt that just ended up looking more fierce some than friendly as he withdrew his refiled mug and sat it down upon the table. "I suppose that I've always viewed any user of the Force as a nuisance, more bothersome than actual help in any given situation. But I supposed you're just as fallible as the rest of us, and maybe I shouldn't be so stubborn to the ideals behind your aid."

 

Mythos leaned back against the metallic chair, his tail slipping off to the side as he crossed his legs and cradled his mug upon his stomach. He was beginning to notice his biased outlook, having harbored ill will toward them all due to the select few, mainly the Sith. As Vox sat down and poised his question in a dialect Mythos was slightly familiar in, yet butchered when he spoke it, he chose to reply in basic instead. "Never been here before myself, but they've got good Yelp reviews. Order whatever you like. It's on me."

 

With that said, Mythos turned back to the younger of the Knights and the questioned she asked. Although her wording was off, he knew what she wanted to know. His brow furrowed a bit, his tongue licking his canines as he thought back to his encounter with the Sith Lord. "It was weird to be honest. A mist that appeared from nowhere clouded my vision before we even got into the fight, and where she remained for most of the battle, striking at me in between the phantoms she had conjured, showing me her painful past and trying to justify her darkness."

 

As Mythos recalled the duel, he caught a glimpse of the shadows that had been haunting him sitting over in the corner, causing his gaze to shift toward it rather quickly, but it was gone as quick as it came and he turned back to Ivanov. "I lost my arm to her cursed blade, and yet, she allowed me to live, leaving me  in agony as the wounds I recieved festered, almost as if she knew I would be rescued."

 

With that said, Mythos took another few laps of the mug as he pondered the reasons why and tried to forget the spirits that seemed to plague his mind.


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@Mythos@ISB Officer(s)

 

Vox nodded in understanding and began to take a gander as to what to order... whatever he was ordering. He studied how the servants were providing drinks and food, seeing as how everyone could order from a piece of plastic it seemed easy enough. Vox looked through the foldable thing and saw everything word for word, not really understanding the common tongue but wanting to at least look like he knew what he was doing. He thesaw numbers seperated from the actual words, low and high clusters and single to triple digits of them. If Mythos was providing the food or buying it then it would give Vox the chance to maybe see how this exchange in currency worked. Back home, the maidens would serve the War Pack whatever was available, this was somewhat the case but it was also very different. He knew, no more was he on Trandosha, in the Mooncrest Wilds hunting his meals.

 

As the servant came to fill their drinks, Vox grabbed their attention and pointed to four things on the menu board, while speaking in Trandoshan in the off chance they knew the language, "These four I would like to... order...?"

 

The waiter looked over the items while holding an empty picture and simply nodded before heading back to wherever they came from. Vox felt proud of himself, finally, becoming civilised with the rest of these people. He wasn't expected to be treated with great regard let alone much hospitality but it seemed he didn't have much to worry about. Then the woman or man across from him, he wasn't paying much mind to them but heard their question about what he ate. What didn't he eat? Much like any reptilian, Vox was acclimated to being omnivorous, both meat and vegetation. 

 

"I eat meat, primarily. But to upkeep health I must have at least a vegetable or fruit with my diet. I can't have something of just fruits and such as it can affect my body and cause me to get weaker. As all Trandoshans, their daily intake should consist of mostly meat. And do tell, what is your, "Diet?"" Vox topped this off with a question, having explained himself now only this individual would have to explain as well. 

Edited by Vox

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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?”


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Cassandra Vinalian - Exorcist -  Champion for Empress Raven Nasra

 

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The Chieftain payed attention to Ryzhkov as he awaited the items he ordered, blessed his heart not knowing how to read proper Common. He only hoped the numbers meant done good but little to his knowledge he ordered expensive platters and not simple dishes. Like any other Vox has met this individual had a similar diet as well, possibly more vegetables but regardless similar despite the Trandoshans capability of eating raw flesh and not be affected by it. Meat was much better cooked than raw, especially with spices thrown into it. It took him back to the time he ate stews and massive slabs of steak and roast, the Caretakers generally using salts and herbs to give more flavor to the food. 

.

The Trandoshan perked up as Ryzhkov complimented him for the mission, telling him how much a blessing it was that the War Pack were in the system. It wasn't hard to gain the good graces of Vox, it was easy to lose them and even easier to lose his trust... whatever was there. Listening intently on the question for "specialities" Vox thought for a minute before replying, "As Chieftain, I'm quite familiar with tactics, martial arts, swordsman and marksmanship, demolitions, mostly a lot that you would of expect high ranking soldiers or shock troopers. 

.

Truth be told, I allow Divine to guide me and because of it I've won many battles, allowing it to give me insight for battle, investigation, and hunting. However, the Black Cloaks, or "Sith" as you call them have piqued my interest. I've seen few in action and we've lost few due to them, my blade was damaged because of one but spikes took care of that problem fast. Because of them many of my people, commoners and soldiers, were killed and so the squad I have is all that's left. But if you're looking at specifics, I'm willing to learn more about the Bl- Sith." In his explanation, it seemed Vox spoke in ire and spite against the dark side users. There was a level of anger he had that couldn't be explained, something he wanted to gain Justice for, something he wanted to avenge, or someone rather. Though he was hiding this rage quite well his right fist clenched hard and his tone deepened just slightly.

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Mythos's brow furrowed as she spoke, his tail shifting in his displeasure. The young Imperialist called his survival a blessing, which, in the usual context, he could see. But in truth, it now felt like a curse. Not in the sense that he had survived, but the darkness he felt she had placed upon him, the visions of spirits and the dead, her trickery to haunt his mind. He was doing all he could to hold it together. Taking another lap of his drink, he sat it down and opened his own menu.

 

"Didn't know that such services were offered." Mythos spoke with surprise, the veteran of the Alliance Marshals having never really heard of post mission therapy, but the days of old had long changed since he was truly active. He was the last of a dying breed, from an era where emotional syndromes weren't openly talked about except over a few alcoholic beverages. "What do these services entail exactly?"

 

As the Marshal awaited her reply, he shifted his hand toward a waiter and began making his order; a large steak, medium rare with a portion of potatoes and a small fist sized yeast bun off to the side. Handing over the cred stick to pay for the Meals, Mythos turned back to the young Imperialist. "Truth be told, I'm beginning to believe she hexed me. Or that I'm simply going crazy. I see the spirits she rose that day everywhere I turn lately in my perifial, only to look and not see anything there. They invade my mind even in my dreams, and I'm exhausted."


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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. 


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Cassandra Vinalian - Exorcist -  Champion for Empress Raven Nasra

 

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Posted (edited)
On 3/4/2020 at 11:30 PM, ISB Officer(s) said:

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. 

As Vox wait for his meal he had been making small talk with the individual in front of him. It wasn't bad per say, but he was starting to get too hungry to actually continue talking. Something clicked and clacked, the sound of dishes lightly tapping each other as if stacked. The sound came from behind the Trandoshan as he turned to see a hefty five platters filled with steaks, other cooked meats that would be considered some of the best, and several other dishes made hot and ready. The two waitresses carefully and swiftly made their way through the occupied tables and once they arrived the two employees set the dishes in front of Vox, a hungry look in his eye when he stared at the food. 

 

Just as the two women left, just as Vox was ready to take his first bite of the first plate before him, an announcement was made for all available units to report to one of the Star Destroyer Misericordia. He stopped halfway from taking a bite of a piece of steak, it's steam and flavours just inches away from his mouth. He contemplated on actually eating instead of going, but if this was a serious mission he knew to follow through with his promise of service. Vox looked to Ryzhkov and asked, "Is... there a way I can take all this?"

 

The Trandoshan stood and put his helm on, he just needed to know whether it was acceptable to take the five platters worth of food with him. It would certainly be a real thing to eat alongside his kinsmen as the only thing they've ate for months were dry jerky to make ends meet. Of not, he was still taking the food regardless, whether or not anyone wanted to catch an armored train wasn't the Chieftains problem.

 

Meanwhile back at the housing the Trandoshan group was given, Chaox heard the announcement and assumed that his older brother was there. Knowing they were under command of these Imperials, it was also his job as the secondary leader to have his soldiers ready themselves. Barking orders and hurrying the five other Trandoshans, Chaox was quick to have his men gear up for the upcoming mission. All of them had their weapons ready, their gear mostly checked, and other equipment packed up in case they needed it. He took point and lead the group to the Misericordia, or wherever the other troops and officers were rushing off to in the same direction. They made it to their destination in minutes, the crew of six Trandoshans carrying their gear as they boarded the ship. Vox, leaving the restraunt with only his own armor and weapons, meeting his crew aboard the ship. 

Edited by Vox

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