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Nar Shaddaa - Rebel Alliance Headquarters


Raven Nasra

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"I'm afraid not...Admiral". Scorpio spoke as he examined the man's uniform and stars, taking notice of Rank as he unclipped his blade from his hip and held it in the one hand, offering himself in surrender. "Its been many years since my name has likely been spoken amongst the remains of the Republic, as I am a former Jedi from the era of Onderon Starlisk. A fallen Jedi."

 

His gaze was stern but kind from beneath the Conical Hat that adorn his head, one that spoke of his set mind and hope of redemption. His gaze briefly shifted to the Lieutenant as did his wrists as he freely offered himself up for arrest. Deep down, Scorpio understood the confusion and likely hesitancy one might form in this moment, but his choice had been made, and his fate bound to the will of the Force.

 

"I'm here to offer my unconditional surrender." He spoke softly as his gaze shifted back toward the Admiral while his hands remained in place and in plain view. "And my aid should it be asked."

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Beck held the id as he looked upon Scorpio's face. His face most likely gave away all of his own emotions and feelings, which were nothing short of confusion. He glanced at the lieutenant and then back at the man before him and then back again a few more times as he attempted to process what was spoken to him. He finally narrowed his eyes as he locked them with Scorpio, taking a moment to place the man's id back in one of his open hands that were offered up. "I don't think that would be necessary. I don't know this Onderon Starlisk from the Jedi standpoint, only the Rebellion Admiral. And many who served under him were pardoned... a long time ago." Beck turned and began to walk back towards the entrance, giving both a wave of his hand at the lieutenant to dismiss the situation, while with the other indicating that he wanted the man to follow him. Without even looking back, he continued his own thought. 

 

"Surrender is a noble thing to do, but at this point isn't needed. Your aid as a former Jedi could become very useful. I don't know how the Jedi handle fallen from grace members, but within the Imperials, we welcome a reinstatement of sorts. And gifts one may carry like yours always have the chance of redemption. Goodness knows if the Empress Raven could offer grace to a man like me, your history would have to have a ton of recent and major crimes to surpass a pardon." Entering the building, he glanced at a holodisplay showing a few different images, none of which worried him. He turned left and quickly walked down the hall and into his office, which was almost emptied out by this point. "I'd offer you something to drink, but we're currently under an evacuation protocol." The Admiral sat behind his desk, which held nothing to it now and only had a box behind it. There were still four boxes on the other side, to which Beck offered up as chairs to Scorpio. "So... what's your story and how can we get you plugged in?"  

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Scorpio's confusion only followed Beck's own as the man instead offer his lead rather than stuncuffs, his brief and blank stare at the scruffy man speaking more volume than words before he departed. Scorpio, himself although aged, had never been able to produce a full beard, let alone much more than a baseline five o'clock shadow. His face was as clear and silky as that of a child's despite the age lines and scars that lingered even in his cloned form.

 

As the Admiral poised the question, Scorpio removed the conical hat and held it to his side where the now sheathed weapon sat once again. "Its one I'm sure you've heard quite often. I started out an orphan, became a Jedi, fell to my own inner darkness, and now seek redemption." He spoke with a loosely hearted chuckle. "But to be honest, it's only been a singular path that I've walked. Jedi Guardian, Sith Warrior... the path of a soldier, of war. I thought in exile I would find peace, and did for a time...."

 

His gaze met with Beck's a hardened and stern look as the serious depth of his thoughts read within his turquoise eyes. "Peace is an impossible dream now. I have higher stakes at play and if the Sith manage to conquer all, my daughter's life will be forfeit." His eyes squinted snakishly, as if he recoiled in defense. "That's something I am playing for keeps. A father's bet, if you will."

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Kolchak righted himself from his slight bow, a hand smoothing the waistline of his naval uniform. He stared unblinkingly at the Kalee. His request was no small one and yet, it could be simple enough to grant. Kolchak understood the value of loyalty and anyone who would risk their own blood for a greater cause were worth allying beside; provided there were not other factors in play…

 

In local politics, there were always other factors at play. To throw his weight behind Qessax’s father would be to extend himself into the unknown of Kalee politics. Yet Kolchak knew his father, had bested him in battle, and taken his son, Qessax, as one of his own crew. To make such a request belied it’s importance. He was an honorable man. And so, Kolchak would honor such a request. Strong and loyal allies were hard to find. Honorable warriors even more so. With an entire network of agents and soldiers, ships and technologies, at his command, Nikolai Kolchak would not hesitate to pit the warriors of Kalee against whatever the enemy had to throw at them, even the Mandalorians themselves. Were these not the same partisans who had ravaged worlds with little more than space-capable tech?

 

Yet, there was more to it. Turning his eyes from Qessax, Kolchak surveyed the busy crew all about them. The bridge was abuzz, the hivemind of a great trans-galactic fleet of commandos and grunts, legionnaires and men-at-arms, guerrillas, conscripts, and dragoons. To add the Kaleesh to such a vast and varied botherhood would be most welcome. In time, every rave and nation present would desire a return on their investment. For some, it was freedom, for others it could be much more complex. The visit of a military officer to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in peace, to present the might of this Alliance, would undoubtedly be an easy task to cement a brotherhood carrying into the future.

 

A smile cracked the hardened Admiral’s face. “Qezzax. You have been vith me how many year now? You know, to grant sush a gift, I vould do in hartbeat. Before ve set date zhough, let us zurvive ze coming battle. Ze foe vill be many and zhey vill villingly zhrow zhemselves unto ze grinder to advanze ze cause of zheir masters. Vonce ze duzt zettles, ve vill, togezher, journey to Kalee and ztand zide by zide az varriors ov ze highest degree vith your vazher.” Kokchak reached outnto place a fatherly iron grip on Qessax’s shoulder. “Take your brozhets. Let no landing forzes approach ze Red and Black headquarterz.”

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Brushed durasteel decking made no noise as the silent feet of the Imperial Knight trode through the halls of the Constantine. No soldier or security officer stopped her as she walked towards the bridge. One hand holding a sealed scroll of old fashioned flimsiplast, whose age, wear, and red wax seal matched the one soldered onto the breastplate of her own armour. It was an Imperial decree, which was an intimidating thing, of which distracted from the small cylindrical device she held in the other hand. It could have been mistaken for the lightsaber that such knights usually carried, but this was in fact the baton of a grand admiral. Which was heavily inlaid in stylish engraving. 

 

The Imperial Knight strode to the main doorway of the bridge and gave one look to the security officer who grimaced and quickly opened the bulkhead door onto the bridge. 

 

She took three steps in and stopped. Her visored gaze staring at the Admiral and his general staff. Then she opened the scroll and read the words she had already memorized. Her sightless gaze staring to the grizzled mandalorian admiral. 

 

“Admiral Kolchak, by decree of Her Royal Majesty, the Empress Raven of this united Rebel Alliance and Imperium. You are to be commended and promoted to Grand Admiral of the combined fleets. Serving in conjunction with your Rebel Comrades of the same rank, and given the distinction of Grand Moff of the Imperial Dominion.” 

 

Which could really only mean one thing. Should the Empress fall in battle, he would take her place.

 

“You have served with distinction and deserve the commendation of the Imperial and Rebel Forces. And should the worst happen, I have no doubt in your ability to maintain what we have long fought together to build. May the force be with you, and may you never forget where you have come from. Serve with humility and protect the innocent.”

 

The Imperial Knight let the scroll return to its shape, the wax seal crumbling to a red powder. 


“Do you, Nikolai Kolchak, accept the commands of the Empress?”

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Lord Commander Raphenel Karlovci Contispex- Imperial Warden

 

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Beck leaned back as he listened to the words spoken from Scorpio's mouth. They echoed something, a very familiar thing to him. He had heard the story of orphan, falling and seeking to right the path so many times before. Many of his own recruits walk such a path. He raised an eyebrow at the man finishing. "Peace isn't something you find. As one breed for war, I figure you know that to be true within your own heart." His own eyes now looked distant as he thought upon if he had ever truly felt peace. The short answer was no. After an awkward second, he looked up again. "A parental drive is the motivation for you then. I can't promise you anything more than a chance to fight right now."

 

There was a loud wind that suddenly knocked at the window to his office as a large cruiser began to take off from the dock, carrying within a great number of civilians looking to get clear of the coming battle. The noise distracted him for a second, as he wasn't expecting it. He had been within his office the entire time during the evacuation process. "As a former Jedi, I bet you were really handy with a lightsaber. What other weapons would you be able to use?" He didn't remember seeing a lightsaber on Scorpio, so he didn't know if that was still a viable option for him to use. Armory wise, he would most likely have to use something from Beck's own personal armory. 

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Draygo’s world was now an abyss of sound, wind, and a cone of light from her speeder bike’s floodlights. The latter was not even of much use, as it only illuminated a scant hundred meters directly in front of the flight of the fragile little vehicle’s nose–its sensors, on the other hand, blasted the tunnels with a variety of ultrasonic frequencies, infrared and ultraviolet beams, and a number of other detection beams, electronically mapping the tunnels so clearly that the veteran Jedi might as well never glance from the instrumentation. It was the loose bits that were a serious concern; cables and other fibers that were dangling from the arched ceiling that threatened to rip a gash through her forehead.

 

Picked up our people,” buzzed the comlink in Draygo’s ear. Her Imperial counterparts had long since raced ahead in search of the missing pair of Imperial scouts. The Jedi Grandmaster, warily watching the glimmering reflections that were now dotting the tunnel walls with alarming frequency, allowed her attention to drift from her command of the bike’s controls and onto the tunnel walls.

 

Those glimmers were alive. More importantly, they were all very conscious of the presence of the three humanoids and were watching them with the knife-blade focus of a predator.

 

“And I see who caught them. Watch the walls. Lifesigns from our guys?”

 

From one. Oh, shavit, shavit! Rounding back to you!”

 

The darkness filled with a confused tumble of darting floodlights and a piercing shriek of abused repulsorlift engines echoing across the curved walls of the tunnels. An entire cloud of those glimmers were converging on the Imperial scouts. Draygo wrenched back against the yokes of the speeder bike in an attempt to bring its blaster cannon to bare against the reflections on the ceiling of the tunnel–she immediately gained altitude and nearly collided with the ceiling. In that instant, Armiena made a reckless calculation: the pack, or swarm, or hive of these creatures was doing much more than attacking Imperial scout troopers, it was blocking one of the evacuation routes, and one that would be used to relocate hundreds of soldiers from the Red and Black.

 

It needed to be secured.

 

“On me, dismounting.”

 

There was just a hint of hesitation from the two Imperial scouts. “Copy.”

 

Bringing the speeder to a rapid halt, the veteran Jedi drew her lightsaber blade and held the bronze blade aloft towards the glimmers that were beginning to scurry down the walls towards her. Armiena got her first good look at one of the creatures: it was a many-legged (at least six, perhaps nine) amalgamation of mirror-like eyes and keratinized claws. There were nearly twenty rushing towards her position, and perhaps more that had been disturbed from their nest by the screams of the Imperial speeder bikes.

 

It was, in summary, a scene from the worst nightmares of a much younger Armiena Draygo. That younger woman would have probably panicked, frozen, and perhaps even fled while screaming curses. Today, the Jedi Grandmaster only nearly panicked, ran towards the danger, and only let loose a single invective.

 

One of the arachnoids dropped towards her from the arched ceiling. Resisting the opening to slice through its underside, Armiena merely sidestepped the creature and felt its wind as it fell in a many-legged heap. Instead, she ran directly up one of the arched wall, clearly surprising one of the creatures and ending its life with a quick upwards slash of the tip of her blade. At that moment, both Imperial scouts had arrived with a strafing run, illuminating the man-made cavern with splashes of crimson that felled several of the arachnoids. The two soldiers dismounted and trained their carbines on the swarm descending from the ceiling, trusting the Jedi to protect them from any of the creatures getting too close.

 

The veteran Jedi had just spent her momentum sprinting up the wall and pushed away, setting her body into a slow flip that would cause her to land upright on the permacrete of the tunnel. She threw her lightsaber towards the opposite wall as she descended, spearing another arachnoid with the bronze blade as it descended. Armiena ignored the weapon as it bounced and rolled to a stop, instead igniting her emerald to decapitate a second arachnoid upon landing.

 

There was no room for acrobatics once the swarm descended; the engagement devolved into a chaotic melee, with Armiena slashing through grasping claws and darting forward when an opening allowed an advance towards the missing scouts. Both Imperial scouts barely said anything more than monosyllabic words as they shot down beast after nightmarish beast, merely barking left, or right side, or on your six, or reloading when especially pressed. The emerald blade sputtered and smoked, hissing through chitin and evaporating haemolymph as the many-limbed creatures tried in vain to subdue prey whose weapons they could not comprehend. What they could comprehend, however, was that many of their hive were dying--that the scent of their blood was filling the air and their ultrasonic shrieks were echoing off the walls. Whether by reason or hormonal cue, the mass of arachnoids soon broke and fled into the darkness, far beyond where the scouting party had gone missing.

 

After collecting their wits and their weapons, the three pressed on. Soon, the scouts’ floodlamps fell upon the armored form of the survivor of the scouting party before them.

 

“Alive; pulse is slow and strong. It’s like he’s anesthetized.” Armiena wasn’t quite listening to the observations of the Imperial Scout. There was another cluster of life nearby: nonsapient, unintelligent, but teeming with such frantic activity that it was impossible to miss its presence. The veteran Jedi snatched a chemical flare from one of her compatriots and trudged forward.

 

The permacrete walls of the tunnels soon gave way to a waxy, thin material reminiscent of paper-mache. It was probably an excretion of the arachnoids. Armiena lifted her lightsaber and touched one of the walls; it was sticky to the touch, almost unctuous. Something slender and many-legged, like a larval version of the creatures that had attacked her earlier, skittered towards her finger as it withdrew. Draygo sniffed and blanched; the unmistakable, sickly scent of decaying flesh was strong in the air.

 

And then she glanced up at the ceiling. Drooping from the waxy ceiling of the tunnel, swaying threateningly like ripe fruits from an overburdened tree, were scores of paper-white, chitinous eggs that were illuminated green by the glow of her lightsaber. Each was barely larger than her finger, but they hung delicately in self-adhering branches. As she watched, one of those pods split and a piece of egg cracked against the ground, and a larval something skittered into the ceiling. This place was a hive, a nesting ground, and a lair for those creatures, and the Jedi Grandmaster possessed just enough imagination to work out what had probably happened to the last missing Imperial Scout.

 

That thought awoke something primal and adolescent within Armiena; something that lacked any form of discipline and wanted to run away screaming various negatories. The remaining portion of her mind that remained useful thought this was an entirely sensible plan.

 

Draygo ignited the chemical flare and touched it towards one of the waxy, paper-like walls. As it happened, this surface burned very nicely--it immediately smoked and soon ignited, the flames crawling upwards almost as quickly as the creatures that made this place their home.

 

_____

 

Some time later, Armiena and the three Imperial scouts finally returned to the freight elevator under the Red and Black. Clammy from sweat and shaky from having a phobia awoken, the Jedi Grandmaster slowly dismounted her speeder bike and reported her findings to a Colonel overseeing the redeployment of Rebel troopers. The last route into the city starports finally secured--or at least its most dangerous obstacles reduced to ashes--the evacuation could finally begin at full speed.

 

And now, there seemed to be some sort of commotion ensuing on the surface, something concerning one of the Jedi. Already weary from the flight and fight, the veteran Jedi leaned heavily against one wall of the turbolift and closed her eyes until she felt the turbolift jolt to a stop.

 

Or until someone woke her up. Whichever came first.

 

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Beck's words rang the truest sense of the epitome that is truth, peace impossible to find despite searched for by all, even those who have walked darker paths like himself. Whether through tranquility or through conquering and submission,  it was never able to be found. That was the truth of the Galaxy's history and why war plagued it so. Only in death, was Scorpio ever able to find a semblance of it. And technology had claimed that right from him as well. Still, one always had to try, for without the attempt, it's ideology could never be replicated even if only for a moment.

 

"A feeble attempt, that is true. But one all seek to experience even if only in falsehood." Scorpio attempted a jest, but it rang the seriousness of the reality all the same. "Still, even if only an ideology, a fleeting moment can be attained through preserverance and luck."

 

As the room and windows rumbled with the departing ship, Scorpio barely reacted, the activity of a spaceport something he had lived around his entire life, even in indentured servitude as a youth. Instead, his eyes remained on Beck respectfully, taking in the man's actions and words as one warrior to another would upon the precipice of looming war, an inaudible moment of reflection and learning from one to another. And as Beck's words left his lips, Scorpio simply smirked before fading away to the harsh reality of his reply.

 

"I was once a Jedi. Also a Sith. As a fellow soldier of war, you know my skills in depth. I am a walking weapon forged for war either in hands or simply fist... Scorpio spoke as his smirk shifted to the reality of what he was and what he sought to find peace from, his hand signaling the blade at his hip before coming up to form a fist. But in the fleeting moments such as the one they lived within in this moment, war loomed upon the horizon along with the harsh reality. "But as a Force User, I am a weapon of mass destruction."

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There was something about Scorpio that had Beck interested. He held onto ideology, to which wasn't truly bad, but a flaw in his opinion. Hard facts drove him and what motivated him more so than any belief or idea of something better. The final words that came out almost made his eyes roll. He didn't care for the Force, nor did he like it when others flaunted it. A man who spent some time in exile he would have assumed such egotistical shows of display would have been toned down, but he guessed that there was enough brainwashing when he was young by either the Jedi or the Sith to keep it as a natural reflex. At least from his own dealings that many of the Imperial Knights managed to keep such reflexes at bay. 

 

Beck leaned back, but only slightly due to him sitting on a box instead of a chair. "I'll get you a blaster and a vibro weapon of sorts. But while you're here on a voucher of sorts by me..." The Admiral leaned in again and lowered his voice to make sure the seriousness of his tone was conveyed to Scorpio. "Keep all mass destruction levels down to a current party on Alderaan." He then leaned down and paged for Captain Isiah to bring him two weapons from his armory. He didn't feel like he needed to add anything else to the warning. But if Scorpio didn't follow that word of wisdom, he wouldn't hold a place of comfort anymore within the Imperial halls. 

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It wasn't out of ego or pride that Scorpio's blunt words had came from, but from his own experiences. The Force was as mystical and mysterious as it was vast and selective. In truth, Scorpio felt that those able to wield it had long taken advantage of it and set the course for the constant wars that inevitably plagued the Galaxy throughout its vast history. And against those who were unable to tap into its flow and use its limitless aid in battle, technology had always been their only salvation. The exiled Dark Jedi had always been a relative example of such history with their ruling over many species including those whom they derived their current name. In truth, he was biased against the Force due to his time in exile.

 

But the truth was still the truth. Wielded properly with training, it was the best weapon of any arsenal and as deadly as any technological weapon currently produced. As Beck called for weapons from his personal armory, Scorpio held his hand up in dismissal.

 

"I'd prefer destruction to be my last course of action if you don't mind." Scorpio spoke, gracious at the offer, but reluctant in the idea of expanding his current arsenal. "I still wield the Saber of my Jedi roots, as lustful as its hunger is for action, and my armor and the Force should be the only protection I need in battle. Your men will need them more than I."

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Terra watched the liquid, a pale crimson reflection in the starlight, dribble down the girl’s chin, bathing her alabaster flesh in a river of red. The Mandalorian reached up, twisting a lock of the auburn hair about one of her bloodstained fingers. The contrast of the washed and perfumed hair against the flecks of blood and grime beneath bitten nails consumed her world for a trill of her heart.  She looked into the eyes, emeralds of refined, ethereal beauty.

 

The Mandalorian’s calloused hands clasped about the lithe of the girl, bringing her into an embrace. Terra dragged in a breath, moving their hands to clasp together before them. The royal smelled of cinnabar and everglave, scents that danced to life in the Mandalorian’s psychedelic gaze to whiskey-toned amber and coal-blackened smoke. She brought the girl into a dance of war, their feet stomping to the wardrums and the cry of the wolves.

Terra

To the Death...

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Qessax couldn’t help but grin slightly, revealing the tips of canine teeth at the admiral’s words. His own heart soared slightly in relief and pride. What the admiral promised was no little thing, and he greatly appreciated it. 

 

“Yes sir.” the Intelligence Agent gave another salute and stepped away. His oldest brother would be arriving soon hopefully. The admiral had given him an order, and he intended to make Kolchak happy. 

 

Agent Qessax didn’t get 10 steps away before he saw the Imperial Knight. While not unfamiliar with the Knights, Qessax couldn’t help but stop and observe her. It was a rare sight for him, who was so busy dealing with humans, that the Miraluka always made him curious. And the way she carried herself was more then just in an official way. 

 

And the scroll, Qessax noted, couldn’t be no small thing. His time with the Imperials taught him only important things were carried on paper anymore. 

Her words only confirmed it. Qessax returned to attention at these words to the Admiral. This was not just an ordinary day. This was a promotion. In his culture, this was more then an ordinary promotion. Qessax had mentioned that Kolchak would’ve been a chief in the eyes of the  Kaleesh’s. But this…

 

This would’ve been the equivalent to Great Chief in waiting. 

 

Qessax watched, beaming a little in pride. This was a great moment, and he was here to witness it. 

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The hubbub of the Constantine’s bridge slowed to almost a halt at the arrival of the Imperial Knight as she made her presence known. Those whose work could not wait those few moments carried on in silence, the beeping of comms and consoles a soft background to the forceful decree. As the Knight began to speak, Nikolai Kolchak and his crew directed their attention to the decree. A sense of awe swept the bridge.

 

The reading ceased and the scroll crackled as it returned to a loose circular form. A silent wonderment hung in the air.

 

Clapping his shining booted heels together, Nikolai Kolchak came to attention, his arms stiff at his sides. He bowed his head, inclined at the waist slightly to the Imperial Knight. “As ze Empress commands. I accept vith honor.” Standing to his full height, spine straight, Nikolai accepted the baton of office. It would have to do for now. There was no time to change or adjust rank cylinders. They had a siege to prepare for and win.

 

“Zank you Knight.” Nikolai responded as he turned back to the bridge of the Constantine, his Constantine. As Grand Moff and Supreme Commander of the Allied Fleets, it was distinctly possible that his vessel of command would be changing, if he survived the coming onslaught. “Prepare command.” He instructed aloud to the bridge. “Grand Moff Nikolai Kolchak, High Admiral of Allied Fleet, instructz all allied craft of Imperium and Allied fleetz direct their strength, load out, and position to ze Constantine for combat preparation and azzignment. Long live ze Empress. Long live Ze Rebellion.”

 

”Order confirmed” the response rang out. In minutes the order was relayed about the air and orbital space of Nar Shaddaa to every military aligned, allied, Imperial, Rebel, and privateering craft; from thebl smallest refugee transport all the way up to the Misericordia.

 

‘To: All Imperial, Rebel, and Allied craft


From: Grand Moff Nikolai Kolchak, Supreme Commander of the Allied and Imperial Fleets

All craft are to immediately relay, when safe, their current:

-position

-trajectory

-strength of arms and men

-load out

-current assignment

-combat readiness

-nation or organization of loyalty

to the Constantine for evaluation and assignment. All orders for the upcoming battle will be directed via the Constantine with secondary command from the Misericordia.

Long live Empress Raven and long live the Rebellion.


Until freedom is had by all.’

 

Once the message was sent, Kolchak waved Qessax over to him where he stood command. “Vith such promotion, ze stakes have changed.  I vill require associates outside ze Imperial hierarchy. Loyal guardsmen to ztand in ze gap.” He let the comment hang in the air, sure that Qessax understood his desire for loyal soldiers who were not on the Imperial payroll. Kolchak’s men were loyal to him, had been since they had been selected, hand-picked stormtroopers. That was as Vice Admiral and commander of Naval Intelligence about the Outer Rim. Things were much bigger now.  Intelligence assets that before could be handled with certain funds or favors would expect exponentially more, at least some would. Some would remain loyal seeing the benefit of their position still or more. Others would need to be faded out before they caused trouble. Still others would expect even less, their association itself an asset. They would each need to be reevaluated. All in good time.
 

First things came first. With his new rank, Kolchak’s authority to assist Qessax’ father increased exponentially for the same service. Qessax and his men could be expected to remain loyal to the Alliance, to Kolchak. Whatever came of the chaos of coming battle, Nikolai Kolchak had a duty to do. Staying alive and functional suddenly became even more important to the cause.

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Beck lifted his eyebrows for a mere second as Scorpio responded. He didn't understand the Force, nor did he care to. But it would seem the man before him felt like it was enough to protect himself. He knew the lightsaber would be, but everything else was in the air for him. "If that's your wish." The Admiral began to shuffle for something within his desk, but his comlink buzzed, completely taking away his own train of thought. Checking it, it was from Kolchak, the Vice Admiral, who now seemed to be promoted to Grand Moff. Poor bastard. He didn't wish to be moved up any further than what he was already at. Whatever reasoning that Raven held for thrusting Kolchak into the more political realm of military command, he was grateful it was not him.

 

The notice wouldn't have gone to Scorpio though, who was still at his desk, so Beck stood up suddenly to address the man. "Command issued orders. Evacuation has now turned into battle ready standby. While these orders don't really affect you yet, I feel like you should be aware of them. They want all ships of any size to report in, along with individuals on their current status and battle readiness. Either to the Constantine or the Misericordia." There was a bit of delay within his own voice with the last ship. The Misericordia was a ship he served plenty of times on as his command. But he has since not served directly on a Fleet commander in a long while. Only recently getting an outing at Korriban. With a very small head shake, he refocused. "I'm staying planetside still as we finish getting vital gear and equipment secured. You're welcome to stay or join the rest. If you do choose to go-" Beck leaned over at withdrew from his desk a small medallion. "-Use this if anyone questions you. It lets them know you're operating under me."

 

Beck then moved to join Captain Isiah, who now stood in the doorway. The datafiles were still being secured up, so it would take some extra work to get them going. But even as the two walked towards the datafile station, his own thoughts wondered back to his own personal command ship, Fiat Lux and what sort of condition it was in. If he was to be returned to a ship, he would hope that his own favorite Star Destroyer would still be available to him. 

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Aidan was silent the rest of the trip back, though he felt rather numb. Normally that would have been a bad thing, but this time it felt somberly right. Such a simple thing, to accept death, and yet it completely inverted how Aidan saw the galaxy. He'd understood what he needed to do on Vernza-Torrah, but it had taken all this time for him to truly understand the scope and depth of the dangers of attachment. Misal wasn't even gone yet, though Aidan was already mentally prepared for it. The truth of it all was they were all living flame, patterns cascading across an exploding universe destined for the void. And while that end would come billions of years after Aidan was long gone, he was comforted by the idea that until then the beauty of the patterns within the chaos would still churn on and that what had already happened could never be undone.

 

Another thought occurred to him as he walked: Jedi Masters likely understood this concept well, and it easily explained the endemic aloofness seen from those with the rank. How could those who have accepted the reality of the universe convey the truth of it when there is no real comparison? And there was another idea, that the only sin of the Sith was rejecting the nature of the universe, or was it a reflection of the universe rejecting its own nature?

 

Randomly he spoke up to Sandy as they walked through the headquarters building, seemingly unprompted. "I think it's time to talk to mom. About us. About our future." His emotions were incredibly hard to read as they seemed to be slightly all over the place, but the truth of it was Aidan was still mostly in his own thoughts and was unaware of how he sounded. He didn't know if talking with his mother about this was the right thing to do on the precipice of one of the largest conflicts the galaxy had seen in some time, but if not now, when? Priorities shifted in his mind, a much easier labor now that nothing felt like it was weighing him down, and he understood the truth: their galaxy would always be at war. There was no good or bad time to discuss things, there was only time, and now Aidan almost felt like he was wasting it, but that too was a lie. While he struggled to navigate these new thoughts, in the back of his head he knew it would only get easier.

 

After a moment Aidan's thoughts stabilized; Sandy and Misal would feel determination from him. The emotion started as a small seed, but quickly grew. It did not falter, it did not waver; it was a steel anchor in an ocean of chaos.

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Scorpio returned the simple nod qnd readorn the conical hat before pinning the medallion to a fold on the chest his robes below the pauldrons. As Beck and the other departed, Scorpio made his own leave, turning into the hall opposite of the Admiral and his Captain as he followed the flow of the Force and its inevitable will.

 

The consequences of the orders received had already began to hustle, the alarming of the klaxons ringing its mind piercing echo as the trumpets of feet clambered in the halls. The foot soldiers were on the move and their superiors were issuing constant repercussions. A shadow within the realm of those that moved with the march of war, Scorpio moved against the grain as he treaded with transgressions. For a Warrior, it had been a long time since Scorpio marched to war and never under the guise of the average soldier. To put it plainly, Scorpio had been the unorthodox when it came to war, listening to its drums rather than orders, and this time the difference was self evident. 

 

The chaos had began, the dire emotions of those planning to fight simple beacons upon the flow of time. Fear, Anger, Hate, and Desire. So many paths define by the Dark only became reality in the moments of war, and war had never ceased to be a constant. It was why so many Jedi were prone to fall, and why Scorpio had taken the plunge. Only the semblance of hope of a new day held back the eternal, hope of winning that held back despair. And it was hope that had been his redemption. And in this moment, as Scorpio walked largely unnoticed against the hustle of the shuffle, he delved into the Force and enlightened that glimmer of hope in each soul that passed.

 

It may have been a small thing in the grand scheme, but to bring that hope to the foreground of their thoughts and emotions would raise awareness and moral. And that alone could turn the tide of this upcoming battle.

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There was a rending cry within the Force, the veil torn by ravenous jaws. The thousand stars of heaven’s field were awashed in black, waning like cooling embers before the power of the Dark Side. Hundreds of glittering ships twisted and tore their way into realspace; no organized fleet of uniform ships. It was the reflection of the entropy and diversity of the galaxy, all those bound to the heartbeat the revel.

 

Sharp lines of Imperial Ships in contrast with the lurid waves of the Mon Cal design, battleships and cruisers, all broken and shattered things. The great warships stood as open wounds, spewing forth the pus and rust of their entropic master; corvettes and patrol ships; carrion, surrounded by the buzzing thousands of starfighters, TIE-Uglies and unrecognizable hulking ruins of millennia past. Some were biological beasts of living metal, others carpets of rotmoss, Rotted behemouth Purrgil… Amongst their number a sharp eye could see the bound carapaces of the collous-wasp and Neebray, rot and innards frozen by deepspace, sentience long since bound to the will of Hunger.

 

At the very center of it all lay the hulking remains of a Summa-Verminoth, far from alive, but very far from dead. Its body had been all but consumed, stripped of flesh and lifeblood, replaced by living sithsteel in the form of the Vengence-Class Star Dreadnaught. Its heartbeat was that of the Maw, bound to the master of all Necromancers, bidden only by gluttony and avarice. The Flagship of the Court of Madness, The Bitter Feast.  

 

The Court of Madness had come for the Rebels. To bind them to the Heartbeat of the Revel. To feast upon the Rebel’s supple flesh and dine upon their agony

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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All around the circle bloody hands raised to the starstruck heavens, howls of delight echoing from frothed lips as the faint glimmers of hyperspace materialized into the hulking behemoths of the Sith Advanced fleet. The drums played a final crescendo of beats, falling to a slow durge as the dancing slowed to a stumbling end. 

 

Namari relaxed her grip around the mandalore’s waist, breaking away covered in a mixture of blood, sweat, and pitch black ash. The queen had never been drunk before, and this experience was completely new. But she did know that they had danced arm in arm for what could have been hours. Long enough and hard enough that her thin leather shoes had worn through, and the soles of her feet were slick with blood. She would have likely been completely overcome from exhaustion and have collapsed right there on the spot if she had not looked skyward. 

 

The sight of those ships would have overwhelmed her with fear a month ago. It would have brought in mind the burning of her homeland. The bubbling flesh, and all of the faces of those friends she had lost forever. 

 

But for some inexplicable reason she was not afraid. Instead a flicker of anger passed through her. 

 

The Sith had come to their doom.

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Queen Namari of the Naboo

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The command console that stood beside her bed. Flashed once, then twice, then the lights in her room flashed and ignited into their harsh ‘wake up’ spectrum. But the Empress of the Rebel Alliance was already awake. Her amethyst eyes staring at the viewscreen that pointed towards the moon of Nar Shaddaa, her fingers lifeless and numb as they struggled to button the last button on her stiff black dress uniform tunic. Her fingers struck nerveless by the sudden oppressive weight of the Darkside that flared in the back of her head. 

 

She did not even need to look at the display. 

 

She had felt the call of the darkside for most of her youth, and the senses of Sith Battlemind reminded her of Gala. That bloody and thoughtless crusade that had killed jedi enough but had also felled the great trinity. 

 

But could the Rebel Alliance succeed in such a pyrrhic victory as Gala had been during the last war? Could they dull the blade of the Sith order? Bleed them white for the victory of destroying the Rebel base while the rest of the galaxy rallied to overthrow them in the rear lines? Raven did not know. But she did know that this battle would be her legacy. They were gambling it all on a pair of sixes. Now it was time to wait for whatever the dealer droid would lay face up on the green matted table.

 

But how many civilians would die while the Sith played their own hand? 

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Do you think there will be competition for these… Rebel Souls?

 

Lord Blackmorne stared down at the whispering blade as the dropship began to thrum with the heat shield activating. It appeared as a Zweihänder balanced upon his knee, as dark as the depths of the Maw. It devoured the threads of light that streamed dimly from the emergency lighting, drawing in and spinning the light into pure darkness. It had not been a week’s time since the blade had been stained with crimson, the lifeblood of a grandmaster, and yet the sword had devoured it all into nothing.

 

The inertial dampners strained, and even then, there was movement in Blackmorne's stomach as the assault ship wove it's way in perilous arcs and impossible angles to avoid the detection radius of the anti-ship mines the Rebels had placed in halo about the planet. Such a minefield would spell hell for anything that came after their lonely stealth operative Sentinel-class landing ship. One of his troopers emptied his partially digested lunch onto the floorboards, and an acidic stench filled the cabin. It brought back such memories...

 

Lehon had been a baptism of violence, one for which he had been given the commendations of the Dark Lord. The Sith Lord leaned forward, resting his forehead on the lamellar plating of the palm of his hand. In the weeks since, he had been consumed with the thrill of the hunt, the cold bloodlust the Dark Side rose within him. His sleep had been troubled by nightmares, the mewing cries of dead men, gurgling weeping. The smell of it still cloyed at his nostrils; the sickly-sweet perfume that rose in humid air from spilled entrails and bowels. The Twi’lek girl’s stuttering cries. Sulpheric eyes stared into the inky darkness that clung to the sword, the surface crawling and flowing as if covered by a layer of rank oil.

 

“Sir?”

 

The Sith Lord stared up at the young soldier, a Zabrak no more than seventeen standard years old. Fresh recruits from the captives of Lehon, refugees pressed into service. The boy wore armor three generations old, with a blaster rifle from the era of Emperor Black. Twelve of them, the youngest around fourteen, the oldest near thirty. Undertrained and ill-equipped for a vanguard unit. A sulpheric stare poisoned the question on the boy’s lips, and the soldier sat down heavily in his jumpseat.

 

A proximity alarm began to trill, the sound growing louder and more desperate. Red lights began to flash. The main display showed a tower of the Alliance headquarters growing very swiftly larger. The pilot droid put its hand on the emergency braking system, but beeped in wonder as the metallic hand bent and melted under the power of the Force. Terror arose from the squad en masse, screams of desperation as they scrambled to gain access to the cockpit and to halt the meteoric fall towards the enemy. Kilometers to target became mere meters.

 

Oh… how delightful.

 

Bloodletter lashed in a sweeping pass, swallowing life and snuffing out hopes, and dreams. Reaping terror at its height. As the assault craft smashed into the tower, a single life remained, fortified with recent death and the power of the Dark Side. From the mangled wreckage, strode a Lord of the Sith, long white hair tied back with a strip of bloodied cloth.

 

((Open Duel Challenge to any Rebel or Jedi Forces Otherwise Not Promised in Duels.))

Death is No Escape

 

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“Vith such promotion, ze stakes have changed.  I vill require associates outside ze Imperial hierarchy. Loyal guardsmen to ztand in ze gap.”

 

Agent Qessax nodded. “Roger roger” he replied. He understood completely. 

 

Before he could reply further, klaxon alarms sounded out as ships began to exit hyperspace. 

 

“Damn…” the Agent cursed, recognising that the ships that had arrived were not those of his people. 

 

The Sith had begun to arrive. 

 

“Sir, ill get into communication with my brother. I’ll make sure he knows what to do.” Qessax notified the Grand Moff. With that, he turn and ran towards the communications center. 

 

One of the astromechs was waiting for the agent. An incoming message for the only person the Kaleesh wanted to communicate with. Qessax sighed and donned his mask. He knew his brother was a bit more of a traditionalist then his father wanted him to be. If Qessax didn’t wear his war mask, he would never hear the end of it, nor get his brother to listen at all. 

 

The image that popped up was what he expected. Dressed in a mixture of padded robes, bone and metal armor, and a ceremonial bone mask, the Chief’s son stood waiting. 

 

“About time Qessax.” he sneered. Behind his mask, it was obvious he was annoyed, but not terribly so. 

 

“You’re running late brother” Qessax noted. 

 

The warrior shrugged. “Blame our father. He wanted to try something new with the crew and that made us take longer. But we will be arriving shortly.”

 

“Good. The Sith have already arrived. When you get here, move to these coordinates I’m sending you. I’m sure you will be happy with these tactics you’ll be performing, but remember, protection is your primary goal. “

 

His brother nodded, if a bit smugly. “Ah, so its one of those battles then. They are the raiders, and we are the protectors.” The Kaleesh warrior snorted. “Fine, but anything we can salvage we are taking back with us”

 

Qessax sighed. Now wasn’t the time for arguing. “Fine, just keep your comm on my channel so i can give you guidance.” 

 

The two brothers nodded and the signal went dark. Hopefully, the Kaleesh forces would arrive very soon.

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Sandy walked beside the Imperial Knight as they made their way deeper into the busy hallways of the Red and Black. Though their bond had been shattered at Vernza-Torrah and it had not yet fully healed, she could still sense his mind working. She kept her silence, her own mind working in tandem. Thoughts flying at a thousand kilometers per hour as they walked through the whitewashed halls. But she was used to the intrusive thoughts by now, those negative little voices that shouted her insecurities back at her, and she knew how to sort them. To let their wicked words waste their energy and fall away, and to focus on the now, and the good future that might be around the corner. 

 

She gave Aidan a gentle smile as they paused beside a turbolift. He blurted out his thoughts and she cocked her head to the side. Her smile drawing a crooked grin on her lightly freckled face. 

 

“Aidan, as much as I love and respect your mother-” 

 

She put her hand out and placed it lovingly on his armoured shoulder. 

 

“-Shouldn’t we talk first?” 

 

Last they had left things before their rescue mission, they had both been a mess of raw emotions. Both of them left totally devoid of the love that had sustained them for so long. There was no doubt in hermind that she loved him. Even through it all she loved him more than before. But they should at least talk about this before taking it to the grandmaster. She could feel his determination, so she sought to reassure that determination. 

 

“Aidan I love you-” 

 

The rest of her sentence was drowned out in the explosion of shattering glass and the nauseating feeling of the darkside. It was strange how sudden and overwhelming it was, even as screams echoed up from the observation deck below them. 

 

She leaned forward and planted a short and distinct kiss on his lips. She loved him, and no matter what happened in the coming days or hours, she wanted that to be the thing he thought of when in the breaks of the fighting he could afford to let his mind wander. She gave him a smile, shrugged out of her cloak, and then lept off the edge of the walkway towards the pull of the Darkside. 

 

He had his assigned missions, and she had hers. 

 

Protect the innocent. Even to death.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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Alarm klaxons echoed through the central barracks, driving soldiers and officers alike from their beds. Soldiers formed their companies with dark looks on unshaven or unwashed faces. Faces that were quickly covered in the expressionless ‘T’ visored helms of the Imperial Stormtroopers. Once a laughing stock of imperial ineptitude that would make a backwater world’s dictator blush, the stormtrooper corps had been hardened by a series of emperors. Starting with emperor Black and ending with the most recent empress. The soldiers had been trained into warfighters that were worthy of their lofty name. 

 

The six soldiers assigned to the Imperial Warfighter experimental squad, gathered in front of the lithe form of their commander. Who’s bright red photoreceptors glowed like the eyes of a demon. 

 

Neural Net up. Advance.

 

Soldiers under Emma Three-Nine's Command

 

Spoiler

Ethros Vori - Rifleman

E-22 Blaster Rifle

Kayla Asron - Rifleman

E-22 Blaster Rifle

Aaron Imoni- Rifleman

E-22 Blaster Rifle

Kierria Andersen - Rifleman

E-22 Blaster Rifle

Simeon Nal- Repeating Rifleman 

T-21 Light Repeating Rifle

Sindra Calla - Heavy Weapon Specialist

RT-97 Heavy Blaster Rifle - Underbarrel Grenade Launcher

 

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The alarms blared loudly and rang throughout every hall and room within the HQ. Beck ignored them as he typed within the holoport his access codes. Captain Isiah also worked at a station near him, doing the same, quickly approving of datafiles getting moved to transports. He however did look up and gave a cough towards the Admiral, which got his attention. He looked around to see some troopers taking longer glances out the windows to see if they could spot anything. "Focus on the task at hand soldiers. The alarms are warnings of ships in space. We have about five minutes to clear and move as much as we can before they're on the surface engaging us." The words got some of them to quickly turn and move the crates and boxes of datafiles out of the room. 

 

Beck looked around again for a second to see that their current room was almost emptied. They had about two others rooms to clear, classified datafiles on weapons and ships, and the other was more personnel datafiles. If they didn't have the time, the personnel ones would have to be left behind and locked, in hopes that the Sith did not get ahold of them. Letting out a sigh, as he wished to be with the fleet, quickly approved the last files to get downloaded and moved. 

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Aidan's desires were met with the expected tsunami of the invasion. Anxiety and tension gave way to incoming fire and explosions. It was no longer time for worrying; the danger was here. He'd always assumed the more experienced Jedi somehow found the eye of the storm of chaos, mystically just… being better. They made it look so easy and yet the truth was anything but. To find the harmonies in the chaos, to use those reverberations to disrupt the darkness from within: that was the true nature of the Jedi. Darkness surrounded them constantly, now more than ever, but the Sith tapped into the same cosmic connection as the Jedi. There was no advantage they could wield to outmatch their foe, no tactic they could use to outmaneuver their enemy. The Sith fought a concept, an ideal; they pressed forward into what was tantamount to an unwinnable fight. When one resistance fighter would fall, three more would step forward to take their place. Aidan had seen it again and again in his time on the battlefield. This was the spirit of the galaxy fighting back against those that would tame it, and it was a force that no mortal could best.

 

The Jedi, meanwhile? The Jedi had only to defeat the Sith. No matter the outcome, the scales would balance, it was inevitable, and as a cog inside the system Aidan could never possibly hope to achieve omniscience to understand it all. It wasn't a matter of faith though that's certainly how it looked from the outside It was simply a matter of acceptance. It didn't matter what he thought, or did. The Sith had made the decision that people would die today.

 

It was Aidan's responsibility to make sure they would fall on their own sword.

 

As Sandy peeled off to respond to incoming orders, Aidan activated his comm and reported in. It wasn't long before he had directions to assist in the defense of an evacuation shuttle at a nearby landing pad. Dipping into the Force, Aidan picked up a jog as he maneuvered through the headquarters building, getting a good warmup for the combat that was sure to come. He made it to his transport just as it was about to depart, full of green troops. Their faces were filled with fear. As the air screamed past them while their ride was en route, Aidan reached out to them, connecting with them and reassuring their resolve.

 

"Remember what you're all fighting for today. A better tomorrow. If not for you, then for the brother or sister sitting next to you. The Sith want to gamble that they can hold power over the many, enslave the masses, and call a nightmare justifiable in the name of their perverted sense of peace. I won't lie to you, I don't know what's going to happen today. This thought strives to elicit fear inside of me, licking at my willpower with the flames of destruction, but it's all a lie. The truth is it doesn't matter. The Force will be with us. And I know there's a lot of you in the ranks who don't believe in the Force, who are here because they want payback for the friends and family the Sith have taken from you. I don't mean nor need to inspire faith in you, the Force doesn't require it. But what does matter is those left behind. We are faced with two options: annihilation or bloodshed. If today I die on the battlefield, then I know my blood was shed and my effort was made so that someone else can have the opportunity to say that tomorrow shouldn't be a living hell. It is an honor to fight along side you."

 

That seemed to calm a lot of nerves, but he could still feel the tension. It was natural, being this close to one's own mortality simply caused anxiety over fear of the unknown. At least now they would be more focused on the imminent engagement and have a fighting chance. As the transport began its approach to the landing pad, Aidan realized the flight had been brief. They were scant kilometers from the headquarters, and the position was exposed to air engagements. While defenses appeared to be in place, they had to resort to using three E-Web emplacements to fend off air strikes. Aidan knew the heavy repeating blaster emplacements made for excellent antipersonnel weapons and could potentially damage starfighters, but they couldn't out range them. They were vulnerable... until now. Aidan gave his lightsaber a quick check as he stepped from the transport, then checked in with the position commander to get a brief on the situation. He would be the bulwark against the storm, the rock upon which the tsunami would break.

Edited by Aidan Darkfire
removed OOC tag - no longer relevant
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Upon the children being taken there was still that ill churning in Tilt's gut. The bags were ripped off their heads, maybe something excessive on the Clones' parts but it was part of their protocol. Still then, Riggs stepped away, holstering his weapon and ripped his helmet off, walking off some feet and rubbing a hand against his forehead. He was shaking no's then yes's, he paced slowly but clearly there was some emotional response to what had happened in the building. 

 

"I'll calm him down," Thumper said to Tilt removing his own helmet, and as he passed his squad leader he whispered, "I didn't like it, just like Riggs... Think we should have a few drinks from this one, yeah?" 

 

Tilt nodded with no words, he holstered his own weapon but unlike the other two didn't take off his helmet. The situation with the family was like a punch to the windpipe, it was congesting in his chest but he held no ill responses nor shown any symptoms of a rhetoric feeling. They did their job... Mostly. Hidden in a pouch was a datachip from a nearby table in the apartment that Tilt snagged before grabbing the children. Though it may give him more trouble than what he wanted, he was curious as to what was on the drive. 

 

And so wait they did for further orders. Tilt, much like his two brothers, did not feel proud under any circumstances. 

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((For @MSA))

 

A tanned hand gently laid on Armiena’s shoulder, who started awake and pushed herself away from the wall of the freight turbolift.

 

“Janen. Oh, shavit. How long have I been asleep?” At that moment, Draygo’s mind as proverbially bloodshot as her eyes from several long days of plumbing through diagrams of Nar Shaddaa’s subcellar and then reconnoitering those same tunnels, had been dreaming about sleeping. She had been dreaming of a deliriously happy night--before she had accepted the rank of Grandmaster decades ago--and about specifically the silk sheets and feather-down pillows of a bed that she’d known on Naboo. It had been a very pleasant fantasy, but cold reality had just throttled her awake with a bracing sensation that rent the fabric of The Force and impelled instinct to stand at attention like noticing a spiderweb crack in a starfighter canopy.

 

“About two minutes.” The Miraluka offered a cup of insta-caf with one hand, and the miniature life-support unit of a starfighter pilot’s flight suit. “Our newcomer did not immediately turn to violence. However, after being cleared by the Imperials, he sat himself in a logistically critical sector of headquarters. I believe he’s engaging some form of battle meditation.”

 

“My hero.” Armiena growled through a dry throat and winced at the bitter taste of lukewarm caf. “I will need to meet him."

 

____

 

Draygo shrugged awkwardly in an attempt to get a better fit on the miniature life-support unit. Unfortunately, the Imperial Knight armor that the Jedi Grandmaster had borrowed clearly had not been designed with pilots in mind, and the bulky straps steadfastly refused to settle on her shoulders and continued to slip over the plastoid. Her Miraluka aide finally settled for overtightening the straps, pulling on the hoists with both hands and pushing on the Grandmaster’s back with one foot.

 

“Tighter, Janen. You’re not going to hurt me. There.” The pack finally slid home and stayed pressed against her breastbone. Armiena gave the harness a test shrug; it was significantly restricting the range of motion of her shoulders… but at least it fit. Now moving at a slow jog towards the headquarters’ landing pads, Armiena caught sight of the returned Jedi Knight–something about the unorthodox robes seemed familiar, of a similar cut but an unlike pattern to the austere Jedi cloak, but the veteran Jedi couldn’t quite place the man.

As for Armiena, the veteran Jedi knew that she must have been a foreboding presence, staring intensely at the young Jedi, clad in unadorned gray plate and both lightsabers fastened to her hips. The warlike presence was only detracted from by the paper cup in one hand. She clasped a gauntleted hand on Armegedon’s shoulder.

 

“On me, Jedi.” Draygo led Armegedon towards the landing pad that housed her battered, boxy, Barloz-class Medium Freighter. A pair of deckhands were towing her Jedi Ace starfighter out of its cargo hold, with a third rushing through its preflight checklists. Armiena spoke loudly to make herself heard over the whine of the warming sublight engines. “You’re going to have to forgive the paranoia, but the last time that I was treated to the surprise of a supposedly long-lost Force-Sensitive on the threshold of a major engagement went… badly. Answer as truthfully as you are able.”

About as subtle as a forging hammer, Draygo’s awareness surrounded Armegedon and she single-mindedly monitored the younger Jedi for any hesitation, any sign of fabricating a story or an evasion. Her pale-green eyes bored into Armegedon’s. “I understand that you’re a father. Congratulations. I need to ask…”

 

The questions came rapid-fire, the veteran Jedi only allowing Armegedon about half a second to respond to each. He would need to answer on instinct. “What are their names? Age? Sex? Their favorite toy? Age at first steps? First spoken word? Did they favor you or their mother? What was their first illness?”

 

Edited by ObliviousKnight
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The roll of the tide that was the Dark Side came crashing in like that of a cold tide against the warm seas as Scorpio was taken aback in a brief moment of surprise. It was suffocating and nearly immobilizing as it washed over his form with bitterness. And then the moment passed, his attention turning toward the viewport nearest him as he gazed out upon Nar Shadaa's cityscape. A sludge of pity rolled from his shoulder as he made the realization for the unsuspecting casualties that awaited their demise, for the Sith had come to Nar Shadaa.

 

He wasn't sure the last time Nar Shadaa had recorded such a war, or if it ever had. Which, of course, made the entire scene that more devastating to behold. For he had witnessed it on multiple occasions, and those like him knew the same. He could feel the emotions lingering upon the precipice and daring to look down into the despair. Nar Shadaa would hold this wound for millennia to come and never would it be the same. A simple truth, but one that bled with horror.

 

Turning to the distant voice as his thoughts came back to reality, Scorpio was surprised to see Armiena making her approach, her Visage aged and different than he remembered. And in truth, he could exactly place the last moment they had met gazes, only the distant memory of Aryian being the first to approach his mind. He attempted to smile, but dread only hindered his attempt as he fell into line behind her at her beckon.

 

"Understandable..." He managed to slip out just before the barrage of questions came with little room left to respond, ultimately sending Scorpio into a brief chuckling fit before he could respond. "Her name is Railynn. She is three, coming up on four...." He managed to get out amongst the chuckling, as he pulled a small rodent like stuffed animal briefly from his satchel to show in response to the favorite toy. "Stuffy, her first steps was at thirteen months, and there's no denying she is mine. I pooped that turd out for sure. And she hasn't ever been sick."

 

There was no hesitation in his words, no lingering thoughts of deception, only the returning dread as he finished answering her questions as his thoughts briefly settled back on Onderon at the sight of her. With a sigh, he returned the conversation back to Railynn and the task at hand. "I can introduce you to her after this battle is over if you want, assuming we survive. I make no pardons for the life I lived before fatherhood, only that you will need my blade for what is coming as much as she does.

 

Meanwhile, the Bleached Mynock attempted to leave Nar Shadaa with the Elder at the helm, destination unknown as she attempted to relocate the people under her care.

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It was utter chaos the ensued and fell upon Nar Shadaa, the lone Imperial Baliff having long been wandering the Halls of the Red and Black after the departure of Lord Den'zai. He had been amongst the first to depart, his final words left blank with destination as he hugged his Granddaughter goodbye. It left a hole in her heart, her longing for this war to finally end so she could return to her home. But in her staunch outward appearance, she was unphased. 

 

At least, until the klaxons alarmed with the arrival of darkness. Like many of the foot soldiers of the Rebel Alliance, Lady Tay'Lor quickly responded with action, springing forth in her stride as she went about her duty, her hands not far from her weapons should the need arise. In the skies above, a mirage of fireworks lit up the blackness with spectacular and yet dreadful displays of crimson, sapphire,  and emerald. It wasn't  her first time at war, and likely not her last. But for someone of her stature, an alien adopted by a Imperial Nobel House, much was expected and warranted. 

 

And then came the blasted ringing of destruction, debris and lifeless forms exploding around her as the moment was engulfed in silence and macabre, only the consistency of her ears ringing the vibration of the moment as she clambered from her thrown perch back to her feet. What had happened was all too unclear, only that something had happened. And as the ringing began to silence, the crimson illumination of the klaxons returned to overtake the sounds as fire and water overtook the corridor.

 

Shifting her gaze to the heavens, the ceiling above her gapped open to reveal exposed wiring and separated duracrete. And above that, remains of a ship having struck the tower. Wiping what she thought was sweat from the flames, blood drizzled into her eye and crimson replaced her vision as she gazed down to see her blood upon her armor. Without thought, she grasped her blades and ignited them, her gaze shifting across the canvas in desperate attempt to evaluate the carnage. That was when she first laid her eyes upon the soul above.

 

@Vorin Blackmorne

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As the shuttle entered the atmosphere, it continued to rock backwards and forwards as the gravitational forces worked against the damaged and disabled ship. Grabbing a hold of a seat, Akheron used the force to try and aid with some of the stabilization but found it did very little so stopped. Instead he trusted the pilot to act as necessary and bring them safely as he could to a stop below. 

 

Several Linnorms vomited, coating the floor in a sticky mess, which Akheron attempted to avoid stepping into. Grabbing a tight hold, Akheron went to the cockpit and assisted the pilot as best he could with bringing the ship down, hoping to avoid a unnecessary demise before they even made a kill. Spiralling down, the shuttle received several shots from anti air defenses only further adding to the troubled state of the craft. Yet Akheron placed his trust in a higher power.

 

He focused in the Darkness of the force and yanked the yolk. The ship soon stabilised as best it was able before getting closer to the ground. He saw a landing as in the view screen and saw his best bet. Aiming for the pad, the ship rattled and spluttered against the unstable and unnatural angles being performed before finally the inevitable happened.

 

The shuttle crashed with a mighty bang into the ground before plowing into a group of civilians who were standing near what appeared to be a Imperial Knight (Aiden Darkfire) and finally careening into the shuttle already situated upon the platform in a mangled mess of metal, bodies and flaming wreckage.

 

Yet for the most part Akheron himself was unscathed, save for a few scratches and a bump on the head. He thanked the Fanged God for his mercy before advancing as best he could towards the back, the pilot was dead, flung through the front and into snagged metal pole. Making his way, he noted several of the Linnorms had met similarly grim fates, but he had little time to check further, they were after all in enemy territory.

 

Grabbing what equipment he had secured to himself, including his lightsaber, Akheron made for what remained of the ramp. But not before quickly checking to see where his apprentice, Solus was and his beast the Tuk'ata Tear. He couldn't tell, but in the force he knew he was at least alive. 

 

On that notion, he exited through a hole, a tight squeeze for his frame but he managed. And then he saw the Imperial Knight again, this time much closer. He could feel the Light from him, detestable as it was. A candle soon to be snuffed out and yet perhaps he could be persuaded to convert. There was only one way to find out.

 

Approaching cautiously from a distance, standing far enough that he wouldn't be in range of a sneak attack, Akheron spoke. His mask concealing everything save for his piercing completely yellow eyes and where some skin showed the crimson red of his species. Especially upon his organic and starkiller like left arm, with fingers that were very much like that of Freddy Krueger, razor sharp with metal imbued with that of Sith Magic, melding bone, flesh and metal together. 

 

"Greetings, Imperial Knight. I am Darth Akheron, One of the Lord-Captain's of the Clan Brasganu nomad fleet, the House Of Dragons. Sith Warrior and Lord Of Wrath and Rage. Who might you be who stands before me, looking at me as if I were some monster. The Bothans appear to have arranged for our meeting, as unplanned as it is. Or was it...no I think not. There are no coincidences as you likely know. Not where the force is concerned. 

 

Perhaps the Fanged God and the Darkness has another plan for you just as they have for me. We shall see. If you wish to live beyond today I suggest you listen closely young Imperial Knight. This planet and those upon it are doomed, surely you can see that. They chose this fate just as we chose ours, the choices made by your allies, the Alliance and their Jedi puppets, who foolishly serve the Light, as weak and ineffective as it is lead to this moment, to their demise. They will pay the price for Korriban and others. The Light is fading in the galaxy, surely you can see that, it has had it's day... it's time for the Darkness provided by the Fanged God to take the reigns.

 

You have a Darkness within you waiting to be released. Why not let it out, why resist what you are? Become your true self. I offer a choice. A proposal if you will, join Clan Brasganu, the House Of Dragons and be redeemed. Refuse and be cast into oblivion, purged from the galaxy and your soul devoured by the Fanged God and the Darkness as is the fate of the weak minded, those who cast aside the truth of the galaxy. Cast aside like the Alliance and the Jedi, their souls tainted and equally devoured, all their sins laid bare. 

 

What is your choice young Imperial Knight? What fate do you choose for you and those others around us here. I would choose wisely."

 

Akheron awaited a answer, his saber in one hand ready to be ignited should he refuse his generous proposal. For a refusal was never to be taken lightly, it would be met with the full fury of the Sith Warrior, for denying the Darkness and the Fanged God was to be condemned to the fangs. Their soul eaten and lost to the void.

 

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https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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