Corellia

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Jaina slowed her pace as she reached the top of a small mountain summitted in a short amount of time. The site of their duel was not far from her present location, and she could sense through the Force that both of them were injured, though neither very severely. Both were still rather excited from the duel, though Talon had wound down more than his counterpart. And what's more: they were approaching, and quickly. She could hear their labored breathing as they ran up the hill. A sense of Talon's calm, serene happiness and Andon's excited joy at her presence wafted through the Force, waving the telltale signs of approach. Jaina, grinning at her impishness, broke into a run and quickly swung herself up into the branches of a nearby tree. Once comfortably seated about 15 feet up, she fell into the Force, masking her presence, emotions, vital signs, and any other symbols of existence.

 

And as the two Masters came into her disguised view, Jaina noted Andon's features falling from cloud nine back to earth, though his Force presence was still slightly disbelieving of the optical illusion of her ”œvanishing”

[Talon]

Talon had sensed a familiar presence on the trip back towards camp, but truth be told he was a bit surprised at the abrupt drop-in of Jaina Jade. He had not seen his old friend for quite a long time, and at that point she was no ally.

 

”œHi, Talon. Long time no see, eh?”

[Andon]

Inwardly Andon Colos smirked as her presence shrunk away from the world as others saw it; for her skill level she had masked her Force signature quite well, even maintaining a decent hold on it the closer they got. She wants to play a game”¦ interesting”¦

 

And so he played along, allowing his facial features to be overcome by a look of disappointment and mild confusion. His heart was already racing just being this close to her already, so that was easy enough to let the feelings of anticipation float gently through the air to her. Andon passed an unspoken and unmoving message to the Jedi Master with him, the smallest twinges of his fingers as they rested idly near his leg allowing his friend to ignore his awareness and go along with what he saw. Jaina was very good at using the knowledge that she possessed, even in the face of two Jedi Masters. She was good, but she had underestimated the latent talents that Andon had been perfecting while she was gone.

 

She had masked her physical body, but not even she could overcome the fact nature that in the presence of foreign creatures, the wildlife would scatter from that area if you forgot to blend yourself from them as well. He didn't doubt she would be able to in time, but for now her concentration was strained on keeping the senses of two experienced Jedi at bay. Subtly, the Jedi Master expanded his central awareness to the area in which the wildlife had recently vacated because of a disturbance”¦ tiny ripples, barely recognizable to Jaina's perception, cascaded outward towards her.

 

As each one washed over her, Andon mentally smiled further, for each ripple was the equivalent of his hand roaming over the molecules it encountered. His mental touch was almost as invigorating as his actual caress, her heart rate exposing itself by minuscule degrees with each sensation that lingered over her form. The little hint was all Andon needed, so he focused his full attention in its vicinity; the ripples that failed to come in direct contact with her acting as a crude sonar system, the portions of the tree branch that bore her weight had an altered frequency when compared to the portions of the tree that didn't come in contact with her. Waves that bounced gently off the bark, came in contact with her body and then bounced back towards the tree bark carried a distinct vibration in its resonance.

 

Most importantly, his now heightened sensory intake could pick up her soft scent as it was carried against the sharp aroma of the forest through unexpected changes in the wind. He stopped moving, pin-pointing her approximate location and realizing she was above him; his anticipation nearing its breaking point as he desperately wished for this game to end. Not really feeling like giving her a startle by leaping up into the tree after her, he ceded the game and allowed a grumble consisting of a ”œcolorful metaphor”

[Damon]

Damon was lead into the building and though halls and offices. As the pair traveled into what was assumed the heart of the building Damon felt static dance on the exposed parts of skin on his body. Damon and the man finally entered one last room. In this room there was nine chairs (eight of which were filled), two semi circle tables, and very set of lights that hid their faces from Damon. As Damon stood in front of the group of nine he reached to the force and found himself denied from it.

 

I am sorry master Damon, but in this room we like to know a full measure of a man with out any external forces other than our own.

The voice that had just spoken was soft and delicate, but sent forth a sense of respect and required it back. Damon was starting to sweat now and he was also starting to unnerve. Damon took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Damon was a naturally loud person, but had learned to control himself. Damon spoke in the soft and well spoken tone that he learned all so well.

 

"Thank you for seeing me during all of the trouble. I know that you do not have to listen to me as a”¦”

[Talon]

Talon laughed along with Andon. It was good to be back in old company.

 

”œWell of course I did. I had to do as such, or else it wouldn't have been a trial, would it?”

[Jack Crow]

Corer plane. A man from a plane where honor meant more than the actual victory. Where all warriors are forced to go through a rite of passage to become a warrllia had been the staging ground for many battles in its existance. It had goiven birth to one of the galaxies greatest police forces: CorSec. Many famous and powerful Jedi had emerged from Corellian society. Since intelligent beings began to inahbit the planet, it seemed destined for great things. And now, one more great thing has happened on the planet, the birth of a new warrior: Jack Crow. A warrior from anotheior in their clan. And now, by pure accident, he had enetered this new galaxy.

 

Electricity crackled around an abandoned warehouse. Lights within the building began to flicker. The wind began to whip through the building, blowing the white sheets off the equipment. A large stone ring is uncovered and seven lights flicker on. A different symbol appears behind each light, casting a second ring on the floor made up of these symbols. Electricity pours into this ring and within seconds, a man formsa within the circle. As he rises up, he casts a weary eye around. Something had gone wrong.

[handofthrawn]

An unmodified YT-2000 slipped out of hyperspace above the planet Corellia. The ship was a little outdated, being unmodified, but it hadn't been a bad deal, a simple ship that fit its owner's needs for the time being. A few riggings would make it almost a match for the Night of Vengeance that had come before it.

 

Symbolically, this ship came through the transponder decoders as the Dawn of Vengeance, which was obviously similar to the name of its predecessor and yet had a completely different bi-meaning when looked at in the right light. Yes, there was vengeance to be had, and it began now.

 

But ShadowFett, now simply a cloaked and masked man, had a few things that needed doing first. He would be able to move unrecognized, a nice byproduct of his recent inability to wear the armor of the Mandalorians, which had been taken from him in a fierce and ultimately glorifying battle against Sith Master Ar-Pharazon.

 

Fett landed his ship and headed to just the sort of store that he was looking for, one that would sell the sort of special things that he needed.

[handofthrawn]

Leaving the shop with upgrades in hand, ShadowFett boarded the Dawn of Vengeance and took off for deep space. Soon, he entered hyperspace for a place that he had never been to before. It was a graveyard of a world, and soon he would again be wearing a suit of Mandalorian armor.

[Andon]

As Talon departed, Andon and Jaina were left with the company of each other.

 

After a few minutes just reveling in the other's presence, the two walked hand in hand towards the nearest town to acquire the proper medical accessories to treat the range of the Jedi Master's wounds; stopping every ten minutes or so to kiss and play until they reached their destination. They spent the next hour or so looking through the various shops, Andon reassuring his love that he would be perfectly alright taking his time to get healed up; Jaina's eyes lighting up as she rummaged through this and that”¦ a certain item catching Andon's eye as well.

 

When they had finally finished shopping the two walked into the lobby of the nearest hotel and rented a rather nice room, a bellhop taking them to the correct floor before leaving them to be alone once again. The interior was decorated in soft colors, the queen sized bed placed against the center of the farthest wall, the sliding door that lead out onto the balcony a half dozen feet away. Immediately Jaina led him to a running source of water as she stripped him of his clothing and he did the same for her; the two stepping underneath of the steamy cascade of the refresher water and remained there for quite some time as she cleaned away the dirt and blood that had tarnished his bare body. The want exchanged between their kisses made even the steam jealous of the warmth created by their desire.

 

**

 

As they dried off, Andon and Jaina scavenged what little clothes they brought”¦ with the humidity present in the room now causing the Jedi Master to don only a pair of boxers that left little to the imagination and Jaina to wear a button-up shirt of Andon's and not much more. The pair sat together in the bathroom of their hotel room, the Jedi Master leaning against the cabinets below the sink counter as he sat on the floor; sitting split in a slight "v" as he bent his legs at the knee and planted the soles of his feet flat against the tile. In that space between his legs Jaina Jade Skywalker sat, the weight of her body pressed into her lover as her back rested against his chest; her legs bent at the knee and resting neatly to the side of her as she tended to the Jedi Master's injured left hand.

 

With his right upper arm resting across her right shoulder and his forearm draped diagonally against her chest, Colos smiled widely as he breathed in deeply the scent of her damp chestnut brown locks that cascaded across both his and her body as they sat together. Since his visit with the Force Goddess on the ethereal plane of existence his body had been changed from the inside out; the natural accelerated healing ability of the Jedi had nearly been increased to a level of that of a metahuman. Nerve endings in his palm that should have been obliterated by modern medical standards were already well on their way to replicating their cells”¦ though the flesh damage was still slow on the rebound.

 

After carefully cleaning the wound, Jaina applied the appropriate anti-inflammatory solution to the injury and placed a bacta patch across it”¦ wrapping the entire damaged area with a cloth bandage. Withdrawing a small syringe she injected the needle at an angle into his palm straight down to the bone, biting her bottom lip as she watched Andon's hand cringe from the sensation. In doing so, she had injected the micro-bacteria directly into his blood stream and marrow”¦ allowing for the wound to heal from both outside and inside sources in addition to the anti-bodies produced by his regenerative system.

 

As she was finishing her nurse duties, Andon allowed the thumb of his right hand to slowly start caressing the area of her skin within his touch, gradually increasing until his entire right hand was following suit. With a noticeably increased exhale, Jaina turned her head and tilted her chin up to make her mouth more accessible as she looked up at him and he kissed her deeply. She lay her right forearm along his as she placed her hand atop of Andon's and pressed his hovering touch against her chest, just above the increased beating of Jaina Jade's heart. She snaked her free arm up and around the back of his neck as she embedded her hand into his hazel brown hair as he pressed his hand across her stomach and slid her slouching form closer to him; Andon pressing her tightly against himself as his hand moved along her stomach in slow, strong caresses.

 

They sat in their embrace for the longest time, Colos' kiss moving across her cheek and down as he claimed the nape of her neck as his own; the hand above her heart moving with the rise and fall of her now rapid breaths as the angel's grasp of his hair tugged at it gently. ”œAndon”¦”

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Meticulously, carefully, Jaina Jade extracted the needle from Andon's flesh. Dimly aware of the rhythmic stroking of his hand against her arm, she sealed off the wound with a bandage, holding her breath to slow the accelerated pounding of her heart. Resting her back more firmly against his chest, she laid her head on his right shoulder and tilted her head up towards him as she Force-lifted the medical supplies away from her to deposit them neatly on the counter across the room. Applying pressure to his right hand, she laid his fingers over the heart that was pounding hard enough to seemingly jump out of her chest. Her left hand traced the line of his oblique cage, tiptoeing up his leg, over his hip, and rounding his shoulder to grab a firm hold of his thick golden-brown mane.

 

His touch was so intoxicating, his breathing so precious, and his kisses so sure; he was so strong that she felt like a child in his presence. In the safety of his arms, the Force Goddess was no more than a little girl clinging to her rescuer. And as his lips traveled across her cheek, along her jawbone and down her neck, she shivered slightly in his arms, snuggling tighter into him; the only whisper she could manage his name.

 

”œAndon,”

[Fynn Relmis]

A comm from Fynn Relmis arrives for Master Andon.

 

----

 

Master Colos,

 

My name is Fynn Relmis, you may or may not remember me. Master the jedi order is in a desperate situation. I know that you have not been a regular member for sometime. I also know that you have expressed your dissatifaction with the current council. I am asking you to put all that aside, and return to help us.

 

This is an hour of most desperare need. If I don't hear from you, I'll understand. But please Master Colos, please consider that the future of the entire order, if not the galaxy itself...is at stake. If you value the ones you love, if you wish to see a future free of the evil that haunts us all...we must all unite. I await your reply.

 

 

-----

The message ended abrutly.

[Cyrus Knight]

Corellia. Quite possibly the home of the most cocky, overconfident and yet fittingly so humans in the galaxy. Corellians had repeatedly made names for themselves as excellent pilots, smugglers, and military generals, as seen in the examples of famous Galactic Civil War veterans such as Wedge Antilles, Han Solo, and General Garm Bel Iblis. Corellians had even found their ways into the ranks of Jedi, as seen in previous examples such as Corran Horn or present examples such as Onderin Starlisk, a rather large name in the galaxy.

 

Though he had never been especially fond of the people, he knew it was a good place to start new. It had a good offer of resources and bounty hunters were hardly uncommon among the streets of Coronet city, the planet's capital. Amazingly, not only was the planet not divided up into many countries (though it had a history with warring factions such as the Human League), but it was tightly attached to the other planets of the system--also amazingly, there were five habital planets in the system, leading scientists to believe it had been created my a master race.

 

That didn't really matter at the moment. The moment was for living, pushing forward and working towards a goal. If one had no goal, then there was nothing to live for. In this case, the goal was to create an alternative identity that would create a different impression than his former one had. His new name would be Cyrus Knight, or, preferably, just "Knight."

 

Knight rose from his medical table and thanked the droids that had restored him. Amusingly enough, he would first set out to erase certain things he had done, though he regretted nothing. In fact, given the opportunity, he would do everything again. This was not a measure of guilt or repentence, this was only a renewal of his eligibility. He was not to be turned down for jobs based off his record, which was temporarily nonexistant while he held onto this alias.

 

This new name that did not change who he was, only how he was perceived for the time being.

 

No one could recognize him because no one had previously seen his face...and no one ever would. Knight left and immediately entered an old, run-down store that had a variety of objects and articles of clothing that not many would have use for and yet suit his needs perfectly. A strange, concealing helmet. Abandoned Raptor armor left over from the excapade of Warlord Zsinj long ago. A rich blue cloak. Black pocketed trousers. Action boots and gloves.

 

Knight made the purchase with his still-ample account of credits that he had never kept under any name, then donned them and entered a weapons store. Rather than completely resupplying himself with all the numerous weapons and utilities that he had grown to be creative with in the past, he bought only three weapons. Three weapons that were extensively fitted precisely for him at the extra cost--a blaster carbine, a double-bladed vibro warsword, and a sniper rifle, something that he would learn to use better than he currently could (which was still adequate).

 

Again paying from an ample source, Knight finally purchased a new ship, another YT-2000. Its name would almost link him back to his previous self, but only the extremely attuned could pick up on that, and they would have no way of being assured of their find. He named it the Redawn, more based off his last ship than the one before it that he had owned for much longer.

 

This was the ship that he took off the planet. It was bought in working condition, so he took it right away after fuelling it. Soon he was not only out of the atmosphere, but in hyperspace. It was a familiar feeling, being back out into the galaxy. But it was a completely new feeling to be completely unknown with no reputation to follow him.

[Sasori]

K'rell. A planet known to the rest of the univesre as Corellia, a place Nokrt was quite familiar with in his many ventures there in his childhood came into glorious view as Nokrt exited hyperspace over the planet. It was a magnificent place and one of the few places Nokrt could accept in this galaxy. Its diverse environments of deserts, forests, and urban locale made Nokrt wish to be on this planet forever, for there was always more to be discovered here. The Shipyards of the Corellian Engineerign Coropration came into view and Nokrt saw a few ships there that interested him quite a bit. Most notably a Black YT-1300. Perhaps Nokrt would abandon his TIE for this ship when he would leave Corellia. Yet for now Nokrt had other things on his mind. The dark side had an influence over this planet and would make tracking his dark object a bit more difficult than before. Yet, Nokrt was aware of what a power conduit looked like for a lightsaber, they were all quite similar in construct so finding one similar on the surface of the planet should be easy. Submerghing himself in the dark side Nokrt focused on the planet sensing its infinity.

 

Soon enough he found what he was looking for. A peice of rather turgid metal which was hiding somewhere within the city of Coronet. A place Nokrt had actually lived in one year when his father was here on a business trip and therefore he was quite familiar with the urabn environment of Corellia. This task shalln't take him long. Making his way to the surface Nokrt landed at his personal landing platform of his former home. It seemed as though his father still owned the place and therefore Nokrt recieved no gruff for landing there after the other tenants saw of his Chiss-ness they decided to leave him alone and let him to his tasks. Nokrt was obliged to do just that.

 

It was a dark night but Nokrt knew that the night held the secret of his lightsaber piece. Looking down into the lower city of Coronet where Nokrt knew his object lay he had the sudden desire to jump. It was an undescribible feeling to him yet he had to do it. And so, Nokrt jumped, his cloak flailing in the current as he made his decent toward the lower city. It was a slightly scary feeling to be falling without anything to support you or that you were driving toward the ground yet Nokrt found it was much enjoyable. There were many speeders zooming by him not hitting him at all, an odd thing seeming how many traffic accidents there are in a day here in Coronet. Yet he decided to allow the force to guide him to his destination and without hesitation he recieved his response.

 

It was unexpected but at the same time not surprising. A small speeder rushed by underneath Nokrt and the Sith Apprentice had the urge to latch onto the speeder. Reaching out with his hand Nokrt grabbed the back of the speeder to such a softness that the speeder didn't even budge. Nokrt held on looking over the back of it into the speeder. Inside of the speeder was a man Nokrt knew as the Famous Overlord of the Lower City, Dakus Reta, A crime lord who has murdered more people than the Dark Lord. Nokrt remembered fondly of a memory where Dakus had Nokrt's father's bussinessmate assasinated because the Weapons he ordered had saftey locks upon them. A ridiculous reason to kill a man in Nokrt's opinion and now justice was to be served.

 

"Well, well Dakus long time no see..."

 

Nokrt said this from behind the man distracting him long enough to move into the seat beside him quietly without the man noticing.

 

"It seems as if you haven't quit your urge to kill anyone has quite been quenched has it. Don't worry, if you aid me in my search I won't have to kill you, but if you double cross me I will not only murder you but all your children as well."

 

The Crime Lord seemed to stop momentarily to listen to Nokrt, fearing for his life as he rightfully should be. Nokrt gave his intense glare into the man's eyes seeing the man's recognition if not of Nokrt, but his entire race. Nokrt felt as if he had achieved what he wanted for the first step of his plan to retrieve his power consuit and thus moved on to ask Dakus about the power conduit.

 

"You see Dakus, I am in need of something in your possesion. A fairly unique item, yet an item I require to remove from you grubby hands. I know you have come across this device in the past few months and have come to cherish it. But, you will give it to me."

 

Nokrt activated the lightsaber and held it to the man's throat seeing the terror in his eyes, for he was close to death.

 

"In the compartment on your left. There is a small electronic device, a remote control if you will to my personal barracks. All it does is active a silent alarm for my men to hear. Inside of it is the power conduit which I found on Duro, no doubt a remnant of a Jedi who was struck down during the clone wars. You may have it just please don't hurt my family."

 

Nokrt followed the man's instructions and taking the device Nokrt looked back at the man. The undeserving man. The man who deserved death. Yet Nopkrt would remain true to his word and thus took a leap from the speeder grabbing the nearby ledge of a building. Nokrt would meet this man again, next time, will be the death of him howver.

 

After an hour levitating himself to his landing platform Nokrt took off in his TIE Defender and headed toward the CEC shipyard where he saw the YT-1300. In a few moments Nokrt had sold his TIE and purchased the brand new YT-1300. Nokrt did not have a name for the ship now, and probably wouldn't until the end of his journey. Making his way to the edge of Corellia Nokrt punched in the hyperspace coordinates for Coruscant to find his emitter matrix for his lightsaber.

[Sasori]

The Prometheus spiked its way out of hyperspace coming over the familiar planet once more. It had not been long since the Chiss within the cockpit had last walked amongst the planet yet he felt more at home here than anywhere else in the inner galaxy. It was to be his new home, his place of residence and luckily for him his father had a nice apartment in the city of Coronet. Unfortunately, Nokrt did not come here to live for the moment; he came here for a most important task. He was to now build his lightsaber, his only physical tool against those who opposed him. It was to be his greatest creation and one that would generate much respect for the Chiss and making him one step closer to his lordship. The YT-1300 descended in the planet passing by the CEC Shipyards and making its way down toward the Corellian Capital of Coronet.

 

When the ship landed on his personal pad Nokrt examined the busy skies of Coronet. The place was littered with Speeder's going to and thro not in any portion of their mind wondering of what was happening below them or what was about to happen. Nokrt smiled underneath his cloak which had hidden his face in darkness. It was pleasing to him to know those who could be his victims are oblivious as to what could happen to them. Nokrt turned toward the apartment and opened the door with a movement of his hands.

 

His father had done a nice job selecting this place. It was quite modern, adorned with the artwork Nokrt had collected over the years, as he was the one in the family who understood art. The solid eggshell white of the walls was too plain for Nokrt, yet fit the room just perfectly contrasting evenly with the couch, holonet receiver, holovid screen, and various pieces of artwork scattered around the room. Nokrt decided they all needed to be moved for now as this room was the one he needed to build his saber within. Within a few moments the furniture, art, and other various things were nestled neatly in the adjacent room allowing Nokrt the space he needed for this task.

 

Reaching inside his cloak Nokrt retrieved his seven pieces and two crystals, laying them neatly in the order they would need to be assembled in. Nokrt began by raising his primary Crystal, the one which held within it his memories, thoughts, and desires. Its blood red color glaring in the light of the fireplace which Nokrt had turned on for it would be more comfortable. It was a beautiful crystal and Nokrt was pleased with his construction of such an object. After staring at its beauty for a moment Nokrt raised his second crystal laying it directly in front of his primary crystal. This one, filled with the dark side would make the blade easier to wield for Nokrt, who wished to be a Krath, the Sith Sorcerer, and master of the Force. After positioning the crystals into their places Nokrt moved the next piece, the emitter matrix on either side of the crystals. This piece of the Lightsaber would hold the crystals and connect it to the rest of the saber. Slowly Nokrt brought the pieces together awaiting a clicking to which certified it was in place and no longer allowed the crystals to ever fall out of that socket. Nokrt had fallen into the force and began to let it guide his construction picking up the pieces in perfect harmony assembling them in their precise order. Next in the construction came the power cell which was surrounded by the power conduit. Nokrt put these two pieces together before connecting them to the emitter matrix providing the power which would give off the light energy of the blade. Next onto the end of the saber Nokrt connected the recharge socket which would provide the blade to be everlasting, it would never run out of power. The next piece to the glory of which would become Nokrt's lightsaber came into place, the lens assembly which is where the blade would ignite from and where any changes to the blade itself could be made. It was a beautiful piece of equipment, even in its naked state, without an activation plate. Nokrt then took the casing which included the handgrip, and activation plate and had it hover like an atmosphere around the saber. The casing was completely golden with a black trim, a slight curve at the absolute end of the hilt allowed easier Form III maneuvers. And in a sudden the Sith Apprentice had all the pieces rush toward the blade itself and the came into place and there it was. Nokrt's golden saber, the object of his desire, a beautiful thing indeed to the Chiss who had deeply appreciated his efforts to create something of such use. Standing up, the Chiss held his saber within his palm. It was perfect, practically weightless and felt as if nothing could ever stop him now. Nokrt held the hilt in front of him and thus activated it hearing the cackle which rushed from it. He had done it.

 

Moving outside Nokrt began to search for someone to test his new device on. There was none he could see for it was the dead of night. The Chiss began to wonder of how old Dakus was doing and thus the Chiss ran into the nearest speeder he could find and sped off toward the underworld of Coronet.

 

It didn't take very long for Nokrt to find the whereabouts of Dakus, all he had to do was follow the complaints which littered the streets about how much Dakus had cheated them. The trail led to a Casino entitled, The Krayt's Palace. It seemed to be a low class smugglers paradise and so Nokrt went inside his cloak over his head as to hide him should Dakus be watching. Heading into the casino Nokrt remained hidden at all times either avoiding all cameras or suddenly having them tilt away from him. The Chiss made his way to the elevator and went up to the residential suite.

 

Once there he found Dakus sitting at his desk smoking a cigar of some sort, deluded by his living the life. Nokrt approached his desk his cloak covering him in a shadow giving him the appearance of being death himself.

 

”œDakus, your time is up,, your life is thru and now I as the dealer of death himself shall end it. And don't worry about your wife and children, I will take care of them”

[Ronin Wartide]

The Grave Breaker entered the familiar Corellian airspace inconspicuously, having exited hyperspace at an unusually long distance away from the planet to evade detection. As he descended through the atmosphere over a large industrial sector, he was reminded of the day he first picked up his ship on this very planet. The same sense of adventure tingled down his spine as he looked at the Cyberbrain he had procured. The funding for this project would come from a completely different source, but the end result would be just as fantastic.

 

Ronin's ship puttered into what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse in an industrial center that had gone dormant since the upheaval of the Republic Government. As the last of the ship slipped into the large hangar a door slammed behind him and the floor collapsed to reveal another passage straight down to the lower levels of the city, at the bottom of which was a marginally less abandoned landing pad, where he docked his ship quickly.

 

Ronin stepped out of the hatch with the cyberbrain in one hand and his trusty cigarette in the other, entering the secret facility with a spring in his step.

[Rinwald Dahlmiester]

Emerging from the shadows with an almost synchronized step are two red livalried agents, bearing the insignia of the CORE organization. They have their weapons pointed at Ronin, staring at him for several seconds that seem to drag into an eternity of unpleasant possibilities.

 

"That will be enough," a voice calls out.

 

Stepping between the guards is a tall man, dressed in a long black coat, a ruffled collar, and gripping a long cane. His face is hidden behind a silver mask, leaving only two liver colored strips at his mouth, pressed into a permanent sneer.

 

"Well met, Master Wartide. We have been expecting you."

 

The voice is polished and urbane, unmistakably Corellian, but the eyes of this creature are colder than the blackest void of space, devoid of any human emotion akin to sympathy or compassion.

 

"I presume you have the brain." he notes, motioning to a concealed turbolift in the back. "We will get started at once. I believe your organizations will find this... modification we have in mind... suitable for your ends." It of course went without saying that the man only acted for his own benefit and at this time found this alignment of purpose useful for himself.

 

The turbolift is occupied by the CORE director and his two henches, also carrying an overpowering reptillian scent from the director's looming bodyguard.

 

The clear glasteel turbolift shoots downward, suddenly lurching forward and into a wide series of tunnels built deep into Corellia's core, filled with ancient machinery. Verily it was more a hidden monotrack system than a mere turbolift, descending further and further into the planet and its cyclopean interior.

 

"The legacy of the ancients," Rinwald intones. "Remaints of 40,000 year old hyperdrive... the likes of which you see Dagon and his Imperials striving to duplicate with their celestial system, but lacking the purpose and clarity of those who have come before." His eyes flash. "I understand your wishes regarding Piccolo, and his own desires. They will be met, I assure you."

 

They reach a small dome, inside of which lies a medical labatory. Body parts occupy glass tubes- some mechanical, others completely biological, and some a synthesis of both. Their states, living, dead, or in stasis is uncertain, but the air of technology at work is certain.

 

"The Trandoshan's brain will find its new body suitable... perfect for dealing with the likes of petty force users who do not know their place in the galactic order. He will consume their lifeblood, and use it to forge order out of chaos amid the flames of war... He will be a champion, worthy of me... True order, devoid of light, dark... only the grey drone of steel and blood will remain..." Dahlmiester trails off, his voice still firm, eyes distant.

 

They reach a large vault and pressing his hand up to a control panel, Dahlmiester's appendage seems to melt into it, his nanite body registering with CORE Omicron's safeguard. "We will rebuild him. We will make him stronger, faster, better than before... Only through death can their be any rebirth... Behold!"

 

Standing in the center of the room loomed the body, the latest in the CORE organization's foul cache of technology. It seemed steeped in some sinister purpose, silent and brooding, waiting for its host and the will to drive it forth towards the inevitable.

 

"Our organization's gift to you and the Black Sun which will eclipse those who have come before." The pale lips curl into a smile, showing large, very white teeth. "Use it well..."

[Ronin Wartide]

Ronin whistled, impressed by the sheer magnitude of the body. It was nearly Ten tall, plated with tempered durasteel and accented with strategic lines of cortosis. Weapons adorned every inch of the frame, hidden behind secret panels or pathed along limbs. In itself, the frame appeared vaguely reptilian, its legs evidently meant to rest at a heavily bent position, and the long neck leading seamlessly into the face--which was featureless save for the unmistakable mandalorian T that the optical sensors rested behind. Ronin watched as the brilliant CORE engineers recased Piccolo's cyberbrain, fixing the burnt circuits and replacing them instead with fiber optics. This time his brain, which was surrounded by the nonconductive plasteel, would be no more susceptible to electric attacks than any other brain--if not better prepared.

 

The skull casing cracked open as Piccolo's dormant mind was hoisted up towards it. The mind had entered a hybernative state, the minimal life support systems leaving the brain only enough power to keep its tissue alive. A large fiber optic cable, the size of a garden hose, connected to the stem, a series of bolts activating to pull it into proper seating. The panels closed around it, the transparasteel visor flashing in vibrant blue. The shock of mechanical body linking to the brain instantly brought it out of his coma and into a frenzy--the body installing its own operation software on top of his cerebellum. His body remained bolted to its construction restraints as his mind wildly attempted to send his limbs into spasms.

 

Ronin watched the show with awe, his glasses obscuring the glint in his eye but not the grin that loosely held this burning cigarette. As the body seemed to settle down, Ronin called to Piccolo--unsure if he'd established control of his audio sensors yet or not.

 

"Did you have nice dreams, Pic?"

[Piccolo]

Piccolo had not had nice dreams. Only once before had he felt the disembodied experience of being artificially kept alive by his cyberbrain. That had been a very short length of time. Never before had he pushed the capabilities of his cyberbrain for this long. The mechanical structure was able to keep his brain active for a limited period. During that period, Piccolo's consciousness was at a point between waking and sleeping. It was an awful feeling. The pain of it only increased the longer his brain existed without a body. In this nightmarish state, the hunter could still feel the presence of Exodus. His failure was a weight on his nonexistant chest. Piccolo had given it is all, and still fell short. There was no amount of training he had not undergone, and still the sorcery of a Force-user was superior. Piccolo knew there was no one to save him. He had been alone on that bridge. Piccolo knew there would be no return this time. His spirit would soon vanish forever.

 

Dying seems to be taking longer than I thought.

 

Piccolo suddenly realized he could now form coherent thoughts. The nightmares had vanished. The hunter was somehow conscious. His vision began to clear. And yet, it was not his normal vision. It was different. More defined somehow. Piccolo's old mechanical eyes were no match for these. Piccolo's puzzlement was cast aside, as a shape loomed before him.

 

I don't believe it . . .

 

Piccolo tried to move his hand up to close around the throat of his enemy. The last time he had seen Ronin Wartide, Piccolo had been forced to leave him injured on the streets of Coruscant. The hunter hadn't had time to finish the job. This time he would not make the same mistake. But Piccolo's hand wouldn't respond as he thought it would. It was heavier somehow, harder to control. Piccolo finally took the time to look down.

 

"What have you done to me you filthy pirate?"

[Rinwald Dahlmiester]

"He merely made an investment in your future." Dahlmiester's smooth voice chimes in, stepping into the "Trandoshan's" line of sight. "You were rather far gone. Even the B'omarr Monks might have been unable to salvage anything." A tight smile appears on the CORE Director's lips, though his face remains grave and serious. "Allow me for a formal introduction, since we've been... business aquantances for longer than you realize. I am Rinwald Adolphus Dahlmiester, Director of CORE, and have been a benefactor of Black Sun's past technical innovations." He gives a small half bow and continues. Those innovations included leading a raid on Black Sun's Black X-1 station and stealing a prototype virus aimed at getting rid of the galaxies force users to secure a take over that ultimately failed.

 

"Your old body perished. The details of that are with in your own memories. Your brain ended up in the hands of someone you would consider an enemy and Mr. Wartide here secured its release. We however, contacted him about making use of you." Sensing possible anger rising at that statement, Dahlmiester holds up one gloved hand in warning. "You are left to your own devices and we have no wish to control you. We trust you to act as Black Sun has always acted, out of self-interest and with the means availible. As it happens, those coincide with what we desire."

 

Another CORE Agent enters the room, handing a datapad and dossier to Rinwald, who views them. Once more the tight smiles appears on his pale lips. "Excellent," he whispers, handing back the dossier, but keeping the datapad. Turning back to Piccolo, he continues. "Your new body is different than that which come before. You have proven yourself a warrior beyond call, though a mortal one, with the weakness the flesh entails. Your heart and soul is iron. It is fitting you have a body to match. With it you could take on a small army- or something more dangerous."

 

"It was a force user that killed you, was it not?" His lips purse. "Wild and unpredictable, capricious and drunk on the power they've crudely tapped into, turning away their own will whether they follow their light or their dark. You have also had considerable skill in battling these animals though. Your battle with the Jedi in their Temple a while back brought you against something... different... something far more dangerous than your run of the mill Jedi and Sith Master. You fought that beast and won. Your skills are paramount for such a feat, though still fallible. Hence your new body to make up for such lapses."

 

Handing the datapad to Ronin, Dahlmiester turns about. "Consider the new body a gift. Master Wartide here will give you a briefing on what it is capable of, as well as some new toys you may have the plans to or outright borrow. I believe with these resources, any... ambitions... you may have had been unable to enact will be easily fulfilled and some of the current galaxy's staunchest "defenders", be they Sith, Jedi, or unallied hunters, would be pressed to meet you head on. You have been given the power, so use it as you wish."

[Piccolo]

Piccolo was not a person who gave trust easily. The CORE was a group that Piccolo vaguely remembered from his early days in the Black Sun. He had not heard much from them at all in recent years. He knew they were very dangerous. But the most distressing element of this whole situation was still Ronin Wartide.

 

His offer sounds perfect. Too perfect. I have seen what my future may hold. I am even beginning to believe I may have a destiny. These people have given me the only chance to reach that future. It all seems just a little too well-timed.

 

The CORE had their own agenda. That was his conclusion. Piccolo would not learn what that agenda was from words. But he believed part of it may be a true desire to aid the Black Sun. If what this man said was true, and he wasn't necessarily convinced it was, the CORE had an investment in the Black Sun. But there was simply no way he could accept that Wartide merely wanted to help him. Piccolo spoke in a voice that was not his own.

 

"I respect CORE, but clearly they've been out of the loop. Ronin took my brain from my enemies you say? Ronin is one of my enemies. Perhaps my worst enemy. What do you get out of this Pirate King?"

[Ronin Wartide]

Ronin chuckled, lowering his head to the ground and taking another drag on his cigarette.

 

"Just what the nice 'fella in the mask said. I invested in you. Not only are you the sole proprietor of Black Sun, but you're also pretty handy with a blaster, or hopefully about 20 blasters, given the design of your new body. I got me a 10 foot tall killing machine, literally, with the brain of a bloodthirsty trandoshan and more potently--"

 

Ronin said with a slight pause, looking over at Dahlmiester with a smile.

 

"--honor enough to not turn against the man who paid heavily to save his life."

 

Ronin's investment in Piccolo seemed to be an act of pure greed, paying a pittance to enslave a man of solid-steel terror to his will. In truth, while Ronin never had particularly cared for the Trandoshan either, he had come to identify with them more and more as of late. After breaking ties with the Link and cursing the name of the Jedi, he was in a prime condition to watch as Piccolo and Black Sun were ousted by similar circumstances--their organization taken down not by the spice ring that had assaulted them, but by the Sith that controlled it.

 

In both cases, it was the appearance of a Force User that broke the deal. Ronin hated them, and by his reckoning Piccolo did too--or at least would after a brief discussion about how it came to pass that a Sith Master ended up fighting on the side of the Drug Lords. This, to Ronin, seemed like common ground enough to form a common cause. Regardless of whether they would make good buddies, a shared motivation would keep them moving side by side. Ronin only sought to consolidate the effort from its start.

 

"Now... Would you like to continue arguing about why I'd bother saving you, or would you like the construction restraints deactivated so that we can move onto the other goodies CORE is providing for us?"

[Piccolo]

Piccolo had wondered why he didn't have complete control of his body. It seemed that Ronin had covered all his bases. Piccolo would have killed Ronin right away if he had been able to. Piccolo could not guess for what purpose Ronin was attempting to use him. That was clearly what this was in Piccolo's view. Ronin knew he would not turn against him and needed Piccolo's help. Ronin knew Piccolo paid his debts, especially life debts. The hunter could not help his own sense of honor. He could not break it even if it was in his best interest. Ronin had him.

 

I can't imagine what enemy he has that he would hate more than me.

 

Piccolo remembered their last encounter vividly. Ronin had been left for dead. Piccolo had assumed him to be, after he had attacked the Link repeatedly with no sign of Wartide. Perhaps this was vengeance for Piccolo's attempts to slay Zara? Ronin had to be angry about that, his children had nearly been killed. During her interrogation sessions Piccolo remembered her mentioning that she was not with Ronin any longer though.

 

I should have paid more attention. But I never thought I'd see his cursed face again.

 

Piccolo spoke, still distressed when a voice that was not his own echoed through the room.

 

"You know I have no alternative. That Sith witch killed me. Without you I would be dead, or worse."

 

It was a painful thing to admit. Piccolo the bounty hunter saved by a pirate.

 

"I still don't like you, I despise you. But I do owe you and I repay my debts. So let's get on with this."

 

Piccolo hoped Ronin didn't expect a thank you. There were some things worse than death.

[Ronin Wartide]

Ronin chuckled, nodding to the white uniformed CORE engineers. Condescendingly, The Pirate dismissed Piccolo's anger, sure that it only piss him off more.

 

"Yes, yes, you're very grumpy, I know, I love you too."

 

The safety locks disengaged, freeing his limbs to dangle awkwardly. His balance seemed off, but Piccolo's body would take a few days to calibrate fully. In less than a week, Piccolo would have the dexterity and agility of an Olympic Gymnast. For the moment, however, he'd have to settle for the agility of a baby nerf.

 

Ronin began walking toward a corner of the facility, where a collection of rather horrifying weapons lie in piles, each paired, and each clearly designed to link up with the new droid arms.

 

"Your light weapons are built into the frame of the armor. For individual targets and small groups, your best bet is just to use what's on you. Disruptors, blasters, cortosis buckshot shotguns, liquid nitrogen, flame throwers, sonic resonance, cortosis blades, and light whips--though I don't suspect you'll use them all. When I was in conference with CORE I suggested weapons, and they had a funny habit of agreeing about every single one of them--so you ended up with weapons enough to cap entire armies at a time. As for larger targets; such as medium and larger tanks, ships, or turrets; they've built some heavier options..."

 

Ronin raised his arm to show draw Piccolo's attention to the weapons, that he'd surely recognize, each of which was doubled or tripled in barrel. Guided missiles, heavy beam cannons, sniper rifles, and a plethora of other weapons all were available for Piccolo's new body.

 

"This, however, is the one I recommended--and I'm sure will probably be the one you use the most often."

 

Ronin lightly kicked a pair of triple barreled miniguns.

 

"Each fires a couple thousand shots per minute, times three barrels, times two guns, equals.... Pain. Your ammo will disappear fast, so you oughta be careful, but I figure if you use it wisely you shouldn't need much."

 

Ronin grinned at his towering mechanical companion, pointing to the dual triggering mechanism. He quickly explained that one trigger would fire one of the barrels, while another would fire the other two, and the amount of pull he applied to the trigger decided the speed it would shoot at--such that he could decide exactly the rate at which he wanted to expend ammunition. He also mentioned that the control software for each weapon would be uploaded to his brain the first time he engaged the mechanism, allowing him pinpoint accuracy the first time he picked it up.

 

((OOC: It occurs to me that we haven't exactly decided on what would be our army components, which would probably be the next step. We oughta decide that soon, so hit me up on AIM or send PMs to my other account.))

[Piccolo]

Piccolo lumbered forward. So far, this body seemed more of a hindrance than an upgrade. His new eyes focused on the back of Ronin's head the whole time. Piccolo was not sure what the Pirate King's plan was with all of this, but he didn't like it. The hunter reconsidered his pledge to not harm Ronin.

 

I am a criminal. Why do I cling to these notions of honor?

 

Piccolo knew why. He'd seen the difference between dishonorable thugs, and people like himself. Piccolo was evil, there was no doubt. But he was not evil for its own sake. He always had a purpose. Ara-lai saved his life. Piccolo would repay that debt. The same would be true of Ronin. But when that day came, Ronin would be wise to flee and hide from the hunter for the rest of his days.

 

Ronin is a common thug. But I owe him my life.

 

The hunter observed the weapons while considering his new plight. He wanted to see how his Black Sun was fairing very badly. But he couldn't deny being intrigued by such weaponry. Piccolo had always loved weapons. He still wasn't sure how this body was supposed to use them, but he was starting to get used to the idea of having such a superior form. In the back of his mind, he recalled his battle with that Sith witch. Piccolo had thought he had a destiny then. Perhaps now was the true time that destiny was to begin.

 

"Alright Wartide. You've impressed me. What do you think I'm supposed to use this stuff for?"

 

Piccolo was starting to have ideas of his own. But he was trying to determine Ronin's intentions.

[Ronin Wartide]

Ronin sighed dramatically, looking around the room.

 

"I thought you would have figured it out by now, but I suppose I'll have to explain it."

 

Spotting a data console in the center of the room, took a final drag on his cigarette. He smothered his smoke on piccolo's unpainted arm, then dropped the butt and headed toward the holographic panel. He reached up to his neck, placing his finger on an on an odd panel that produced a small data connector. He pulled on it, trailing a cord from his implant and connecting it to the machine. He closed his eyes and the display, which had been showing the schematics of Piccolo's various body parts, began to change. The first image that appeared was of a large new Star Destroyer.

 

"This is a Sodom-Class Star Destroyer. It is one of many new technologies that have been appearing in the past few months."

 

A few candid shots of Kakuto Ryu boarding this vessel appeared.

 

"From as best we can tell, this ship was privately commissioned by the Dark Lord himself. It hovers in high orbit above Cardia as we speak, an Imperial world."

 

The pictures disappeared, changing now to a full view of Admiral Phillip.

 

"This is the man who controls the Empire... A few years back. Now watch what happens since the ascendance of Dark Lord Ryu."

 

The image flickered, replacing the old addict Phillip with the more recent version, a sickly vampiric looking fellow.

 

"His Characteristics closely resemble some tell tale signs of Nurgle Cultists. This Chaos Cult, which you were surely aware of, Just so happens to be the same that Dark Lord Ryu is a member of, as evident by a few of his more... Atrocious calling cards."

 

A number of pictures come up, each entailing a horrifying scene with words of worship for Nurgle or his symbol written in blood or vomit.

 

"These links are tenuous, but it's become apparent through the last few wars that the Sith and Empire are in League. The probability of Phillip being in the Dark Lord's control, rather than it being the other way around, is undeniable. Whether or not Phillip himself has turned Sith is debatable, but it seems likely."

 

Onderin Starlisk's picture comes up next.

 

"Admiral Starlisk is a noted member of the Jedi Council. And the high ranking officers--"

 

Cal Regium, Damon, Sabian Devanus, and Kirana Sunrider's pictures all appear below Onderin's.

 

"--also have suspected or known ties with the Jedi Order. The only major forces left are the corporations and spice traders."

 

Trowa Barton's face appears, followed Zara Nargal and Exodus's.

 

"...Force Users, all."

 

Ronin disconnected from the console, releasing the cord to wind itself back up. The pictures disappeared, returning to the schematics of Piccolo's body. Ronin's expression grew grim as he turned now to face Piccolo.

 

"Less than 100th of one percent of all Sentient Life is force sensitive by most estimations, yet somehow they've managed to seize control of every single nugget of power within the galaxy. Seems rather strange to me that the only major powers left that aren't run by Force Users are led by the two of us. The shattered remains of Black Sun and My Pirates are the only untainted groups left."

 

Ronin paused, leaning against the console.

 

"Gettin' the idea yet?"

[Rayns Orelous]

The shuttle dove into the correlian atmosphere like a needle through silk, while every gaseous atoms grazed the hull in a furious frenzy. The ardent friction roared along the cockpit that streamed with steaming droplets of water. The vessel flew through the thin grey clouds hovering above the towers of the surface. Finally, the pilot pulled the air brakes and the flaps raised to opose the flow the air. The jerk produced by the deceleration reminded every passenger of the age of the chosen starship.

 

The ship touched the surface of Correlia at the edge of dawn. The broken horizon showed some of its most beautiful colors as the sun crawled under the sky. The marvel of the firmament was nonetheless a pain to my eyes. The accustomance to the subterrestrial lifestyle could not be changed in the flutter of an eyelid. I lowered my head and examined the path ahead, to place my footsteps in the most inconsequential way within my grasp. I tried to become part of the environment. I tried being invisible, until I find what I am looking for. I had yet to realize that concealement scarcely carry comfort.

 

---------

((This is a first post, an introduction, feel free to interact.))

Edited July 23, 2006 by Guest

[Piccolo]

Piccolo had suspected Ronin was going to get to this. Zara's previous babbling was beginning to make sense. It seemed Ronin had somehow been pushed away from his own family and he blamed Zara. A woman who happened to be a Force-user. Piccolo's private war against the Thorpe Corporation and the Link had been interrupted by one who happened to be a Force-user. It seemed this was the connection. They shared a mutual enemy.

 

Not that I ever thought the Pirate did this out of his own good heart. At least now I know what's really going on.

 

"I once counted Phillep among my allies. But admittedly I have noticed a change recently. He did not interfere on our behalf as he once swore to when Trowa Barton attacked. If his connection to the Sith is true, that would explain it."

 

Piccolo fell into deep thought. Ronin had a personal stake in this. Zara was the mother of his children. Piccolo was not sure he could trust the Pirate's judgment. What Ronin was implying was beyond comprehension. It was a fool's errand.

 

Perhaps at one time we could have stood up to these people. CORE, the Black Sun, the Pirates, were all once very powerful. But we are all nearly dead.

 

And then Piccolo's mind suddenly flashed back. After Piccolo had defeated Crimson Morpheus, the Black Sun leader had been badly injured. Another Dark Jedi he still had yet to identify had used her power to capture his soul. Piccolo had spent months in Limbo between this world and the next. He saw things during that time. Terrible nightmares, yes. But other things as well. One image now came back to him. A planet of tall trees.

 

"If we are both thinking the same thing Ronin, we may as well committ suicide now. Even with this contraption you've made for me, the whole might of the Black Sun, CORE, and one washed up Pirate King would be smashed to pieces . . . And yet, I made this exact connection when I was fighting that Sith above Coruscant. That cannot be coincidence. I have been witnessing the poisoning of our galaxy for some time. Even with what you've given me, and even if we had a hundred fleets, we couldn't be the antidote to that poison. But I think I might know what we need."

 

Piccolo did not elaborate. Inside, he knew he was getting closer and closer to his true destiny.

 

"I know where I must go. I don't suppose you are going to tell me how exactly I'm supposed to use this body?"

[Rinwald Dahlmiester]

A red garbed CORE agent steps forward, speaking up.

 

"The latest in CORE Omicron and CORE Beta's work, this cybernetic suit is built around ancient technology harvested from Force users of the past and turned to more enlightened uses." The agent gives a small hacking cough and continues.

 

"First off the power source is designed to run off the Force. We've engineered it based off a bit of old Sith tech, along with some leavings we took from Midsengard's files..." He gives another cough and continues. "The suit doesn't merely run the Force through it. It consumes it, utterly, giving you great leway against Force users since their attacks do naught." There is a small chuckle as the scientist continues. "And lightsabers.... Ha! Don't make me laugh."

 

"You have your basic limbs- arms, legs. They're slightly bent, but they're strong enough to both punch or kick through durasteel plating- or the skull of an intinerant force user should they get in the way."

 

"Your head portion is the most reinforced, protecting your brain. Sensors to pick up sub and ultra sonic sounds, infa red, x-ray vision, heat vision, the works. You know how that goes." There's another short laugh. "If it exists, you can sense it."

 

The agent points to the large, bulky arms. "There's a variety of weapons that are built in. First you have a classic design- cortosis alloy virbo-broadswords- tempered enough to turn back lightsabers, no really reactive potential, and enough to slice through flesh and bone. Also atop the wrists are small emitters for another unique weapon- dual lightwhips. The protocols for running them are built into your body, so while they may take some getting used to, practice makes perfect."

 

"Your favorite weapons are availible from sprays under the wrists- your left has a liquid nitrogen spray, and your right a large flame thrower. Fire & ice to ice your opponents." There's another low chuckle that breaks into a racking cough.

 

The scientist recovers, pointing to Piccolo's chest plate. "The basic technology there is something borrowed from your armor, your sonic ressonance armor designed by..." the agent gives the CORE director a quick look, then flushes. "Well, we all know who designed it. It's not as strong as in your original set, but it's enough to drive people away and all."

 

"Moving to your back, you have a dual rocket/repulsor combination. A bit heavy and something of a powerhog, but with the nanogenerators in your armor and the force consuming engines it's a non issue. There's also a micromissile launcher there- good for raining death on your foes, or troubling a persuing spaceship or aircraft."

 

"From your waist you have stokhli spray sticks at work. The stuff can send out stun webs that can knock down a Wookie, it cannot be stopped by a lightsaber, and it's one of the few non-lethal armorments you have."

 

At that the scientist whistles, summoning a large weapon almost as big as he was. "A triple chain gun. You need both hands to wield it, and it does preclude the use of your sword and lightsaber, but it can take down a spaceship or a small army of storm troopers with ease. It straps onto your back like it would a sword. You also have the options of withdrawing from your belt disruptor pistols and a gun that sends out armor piercing cortosis slugs."

 

The scientist ticks off the list. "That's more or less everything?" he asks the Director.

 

With another thin smile, Rinwald nods, then speaks up.

 

"As you can see, you are a perfectly equipped killing machine," he gives a small laugh of his own. "Even my body guard might not be able to take you." At that the reptillian CORE Omega grunts, eyeing Piccolo, but takes no other action. "You will be the field marshall of this operation. Our own role in this must not be known," Dahlmiester warns Ronin and the Black Sun leader. "Should it be leaked, there will be dire consequences..." Rinwald's pale grey eyes light up. "All I would ask, is, as you conquer, for you to send the DNA samples of the Force users you capture. They would help Beta with a special project he has been working on."

[Piccolo]

As soon as the man started speaking again, Piccolo knew he didn't like him. This one was slimy and sneaky, too much like Ob Ordeena for the former Doshan's taste. Perhaps what he liked least of all was the implied threat. He had been threatened by men more powerful than this one. Piccolo respected CORE, but he wasn't one to be intimidated. Certainly if a Dark Jedi failed to scare him off, even the mighty CORE wouldn't do the job. Besides, he never betrayed allies.

 

Perhaps I am overreacting.

 

After all, Piccolo felt like a cornered animal. He was surrounded by dangerous and unfamiliar people from all sides. He forced himself to remain calm. Without Doshan blood heating his veins, that was considerably easier than he expected.

 

This is the opportunity you've been waiting for.

 

Piccolo strained to give a subtle nod of his head in reply to the CORE agent's request. Even that much was hard to manage. He hoped this thing was a lot easier to control at full power. Piccolo knew this was his last chance to achieve his destiny. He kept that part to himself, but he believed it fully. In Limbo, Piccolo believed he had been granted a vision of the will of the Force. Force-users were bending the Force to their will. For the good of the galaxy, they had to be stopped.

 

"That won't be a problem. None of it will. You will get many Force-users I promise you that. I think we have all come to a mutual understanding here. Perhaps it is time to begin the preparations. I think I know where we can find something we need. If you don't mind helping me out of here Pirate, I can get in contact with the Black Sun again."

 

Piccolo was eager to leave for more than just that reason though. He was vulnerable and uncomfortable here. In the back of his mind, Piccolo could tell the words sounded awkward coming from his speakers. The Black Sun was gone now. This would be a Black Dawn upon the galaxy. Yes, Piccolo liked the sound of that.

 

"But I think we are forgetting one thing. Many powerful people won't like what we are doing. We're going to need an army."

[Menthu]

Procs had found himself guzzling down drink after drink in this rather dingy bar he had found himself in. He had been forced to leave his blaster at the door but it wasn't like he was unarmed. He still had his ways of killing after all.

 

Slamming the cup on the bar's tabel he leaned foward on his stool and rested his arms in his head. His life sucked and he knew it. He who had taken down Kyart dragons now found himself in some small little bar doing nothing more than sending himself in to a downward spiral.

 

I need cash.

 

Procs looked down at the bottom of his glass to see his shimmering reflection in the yellow liquid. Giving it a swirl he took a swig from the galss and then moved it around with his tounge a bit before swollowing down the burning liquid. Look at the patrons of the bar he cast his head down and fingered his holster. His life sucked.