A New Hope

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Faction Only​

OOC Intro/Discussion thread​

[SIZE=12pt]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPZigWFyK2o[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=12pt]There was a thud and the whole shuttle shook. Jacen Voidstalker took a deep breath in. No matter his military experience, his Jedi training, this was always terrifying. Sitting in the back of a shuttle in the dark, heading into a warzone. One stray turbolaser blast and he’d be incinerated in a flash. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“The fleet has engaged the Final Order, I repeat the fleet has engaged the Final Order. The Hope is being pursued by the Imperious!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]There were whoops and cheers to meet that. Jacen nodded to himself and started to lower his state of consciousness into something akin to a battle trance. The Hope was just that to the Alliance. She had been hammered in a naval battle with the Techno Union, sold off to Sullust by the Omega Protectorate as it was cheaper than mothballing. Now she was the flagship of the ragtag Alliance fleet. She wouldn’t be able to hold her own against an Impstar for long. Their mission was on the clock.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Voidstalker wasn’t a brave man. He wasn’t even a particularly skilled one. His first attempt to go through the Jedi Academy in his youth had seen him dismissed. But he liked to think that when it came to it, he held up his hand and tried to do the right thing. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]The Republic was crumbling under the might of the One Sith. The Galactic Alliance was the new hope now. The brave pilots, soldiers and Jedi that had come together to make a stand. But first they had smaller problems to deal with.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]“We are coming out of hyperspace in three…two…one…”[/SIZE]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He wasn't ready, but then again were you ever ready for a basic suicide mission? He had asked himself that question for days, but he had only really allowed an answer in the past few minutes, sat in the back of a shuttle, just waiting for the green light. He was aware was this mission would give to the Alliance, he was aware it was important. Either way, something about it was wrong, strange almost.

The answer was no, he was never ready. That was what was off, the fact he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready for the suicide missions, he'd never really be ready for death. He was a padawan, with only the most basic of skills, and he was sat in a shuttle waiting to go and steal crystal from some planet he'd never heard of.

He was scared, he had no problems admitting that, and hearing the fact they were being followed made it slightly worse feeling. He already knew the job of the space crew, that was never a secret. It was his job that worried him, knowing he had at maximum about forty minutes to get in, get the crystal and get out.

He was contemplating staying behind to be honest.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Aela Talith]

Aela stood in the back of the Freighter, right next to the door.

She wore a tight bodysuit fitted with armorplast plates, her hair was tucked into a tight braid and her lightsaber was already in an iron grip within her palm. She took a deep breath as she felt the vessels drop out of hyperspace, her head swimming slightly as the stomach turning sensation flowed through her body. Her bright eyes wandered around the cargohold, settling on each of the Jedi within.

Her new title stuck to her, though it hadn't occurred to her until just now what it meant.

Jedi Marshall.

It was something that struck her as Odd, though as she looked at Grand Marshall Omai Rhen near the cockpit she found the pit in her stomach slowly settling. The old man had assured her of their mission, of the strength they held, of everything they were doing. He himself had held the trust in her to give her command, and that meant something. The grip on her lightsaber relaxed, her eyes falling towards one of the soldiers that sat behind her. His entire body seemed to shake, his hands gripped his rifle tightly, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Aela reached out and touched his shoulder. "It'll be alright. You can do this."

Kind words and a gentle massage of the force saw the man calmed. His hands grew steady, his palms loosening. She smiled at him, then turned to face the door.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Coren Starchaser, star pilot extraordinare was actually not flying a fighter today. He wanted to keep eyes on the ground. With Hope in the area and as a consequence the Supreme Commander, it gave him the flexibility to land with the shore parties. Having found his team, a small fire team, not called Horus but another entirely, Anchor team (because Rhode Island, Anchor and Hope) they were on their way to the planet. He knew fighters were covering them, and as much as he preferred to be there, in the sky, there were Sith afoot. That meant fighting, that meant getting on the ground.

Did he have his lightsaber? Yes, the guard shoto built of Corellian Bloodsteel and fueled by an orange crystal, but he didn’t plan to use it. The operative’s armor was outfitted with a scatter gun and a modification on a Power Nine with an extended capacity for founds and a semi-automatic firing situation.

Rocket fuel was in his veins and with each shake of the shuttle, he could feel the others emotions, some excited, some nervous. He grinned. This was a good feeling, a full military to bring to bear against the Sith? Count him in! Checking the load of his scatter gun, he nodded. “We’re going to give the Jedi something less to worry about. Keep the Sith busy, let them get in, and do their thing, then we’ll pull back to the shuttle. And leave.”

Simple, he didn’t need ‘hold the line’ style speeches.

Just in, out, on with life, and no senate.

 

[Roth Tillian]

Roth was going with [member="Coren Starchaser"] on this one, except he was actually running starfighter escort for the shore parties unless things got dire enough upstairs he'd need to rocket up there and clean out some TIE fighters. He was expecting enough of those en route planetside to make things interesting. His job to search, destroy, protect, and keep Final Order air support away from both the Jedi and SpecOps teams while being emergency CAS for both of them. He'd probably spend a lot of screaming across the battlespace, but so be it. They didn't have the resources for many more people on CAS and unlike a lot of pilots, he could disembark and go blade to blade with a Sith, if need be. Not that he liked the thought of doing that, but he could. He had the power to use Space Magicks.

He glanced over through the cokcpit of his old T-65 X-Wing at the commando shuttle as it bounced and rattled along towards the target. It'd take one persuasive speaker to get Roth to fly in one of those. His wingmate was just visible on the other side. He wasn't sure how many more there would be joining him on this mission, but hopefully the two of them would be able to handle it. Otherwise, things would be getting very exciting. Fortunately, the X-Wing was an excellent fighter, and he had a very mostly reliable droid, M1-C3, in the slot behind him. Always good to have a known droid along for a combat mission.

He leaned the throttle left to get more space between him and the shuttle for more maneuverability.

"Locking S-foils into attack position," He said through the comm, "Scanners at maximum." He switched channel, "M1, keep shields at maximum when we enter combat, divert from weapons until I engage."
There was a series of beeps and whistles following that and Roth frowned. "No need to be rude about it. Just trying to keep us alive here."

 

[Alexandra Porte]

The Final Order had taken the Galactic Alliance's bait as the Imperious came out to meet the Hope and it's rag tag fleet. And of course hordes of TIE fighters spewed from the Star Destroyer's underbelly like a swarm of insects.

"We've got incoming. Rapiers lock S-foils into attack position. Let's swat some gnats and punch a hole for our friends."

Rapier Squadron led by Alexandra Russo was charged with breaking through the first line of enemy fighters so that the B-wings following could proceed on to their bombing runs of the ISD. They needed to keep the Final Order occupied in space just long enough for the Jedi and SpecOps teams to accomplish their own mission planet side, and hopefully do a lot of damage in the meantime.


After getting double clicks down the line from her squadron, Rapier One quickly went to work. Hauling back on her stick and canting it ever so slightly to the side, Russo brought the X-wing up into a lopsided corkscrew maneuver. While the jerky motion of the snubfighter's nose meant Alleycat didn't have a flames chance on Hoth of hitting anything, she was that much harder to hit herself. The brunette pilot pumped more power into her shields, then shot through the flurry of laser bolts before she penetrated the enemy formation.

Russo's aiming reticule soon went red and a target-lock tone filled her ears. She tightened on the trigger and launched a proton torpedo at an approaching Interceptor. Switching to lasers, Alleycat linked all four, then picked another target. As her torpedo hit the first, she flashed into range on the second and let it have a full burst of laser fire.

The glare of lasers against her shields hid the results of her shooting, but Rusty, the Taanab's copper red astromech droid, reported one Interceptor destroyed and another damaged. In seconds Russo shot past the line of Interceptors, then hauled back on her stick, rolled, and dove back in at them. The squints after being reduced, split up into flight elements and moved to engage single X-wings. As two started to circle around toward her, the feisty brunette inverted, dove, and came back up and around to go head-to-head with them.

Russo boosted power to her forward shields, then pulled a snap roll that stood the X-wing on it's port S-foil. That narrowed her profile and allowed the first volley of laser fire from the squints to pass on either side of herself. At the last second she selected a proton torpedo, and let it fly at point blank range. Even though it never got a solid target lock, it nailed the lead TIE dead on and tore it apart.

Gods it felt good to be back in the saddle!

 

[Damon Riggs]

"All fighters out, sir, no exit casualties."

Riggs sighed an inner sigh of relief. The last battle he'd been in saw his ship blow, and Russo "killed." They had been about to confess their feelings for each other too, but then war happened. The captain sat in his frigate, a Nebula B7, and was getting used to the captain's chair again. He tugged at the collar of the new uniform. The new fabric it's was still there.

"Good work LT. Get the shields back up and concentrate all fire power of knocking some TIE's out for the Rapiers. They need a good run at the target."

He enjoyed the command again. His adrenaline was rushing, and today was a good test for the crew. Too many rag tag volunteers had joined, but Riggs was determined to get them working like a unit. With all the skill and training he gained from the Republic, Riggs would get his crew tuned like a well oiled machine. Today was the rest of what they'd done thus far.

From the bridge, Damon watched as the fighters danced around each other. He'd already lost track of which one wwas Russo, and which wasn't. Yes, he was concerned. The Battle of Coruscant still danced in his mind. In fact, he could swear he saw Jenkins running around as his XO. Jenkins was gone. The XO was a redhead named Smithe. The man was dry, and not Corellian. They weren't going to get along.

"Brings port side of the Hope."

[member="Alexandra Russo"] [member="Roth Tillian"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Quinn Michaels"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

For once, Cyril was not in charge of an operation he was participating in. The relief that came with that was both surprising and unnerving. It had been quite some time since he'd been allowed to cut lose, so to speak. He did not relish the violence, nor what would come ahead. His lightsaber techniques were designed strictly to disarm and incapacitate opponents; he did his best no to end lives unless he had to. That did not mean he couldn't enjoy the challenge that came with such things.

Right now it was a challenge to remain calm. You could study the art of meditation for decades, and still have trouble finding a center when the shuttle you were flying on could be turned into space debris at any second. He placed his faith in the Galactic Alliance's pilots. This part of the mission was in their hands, not his, and they were chosen to do the job for a reason. Trusting his superiors' judgement was the first step back on the path.

He took a cursory look around the shuttle. Most of the occupants were Jedi of varying ages, races, and backgrounds. A number of soldiers were seated with them as well. He himself was clad in his old armor from the days of Ession - black robes tied tightly around phrik plating. Some of the occupants were mingling with one another, but the majority of those aboard were silent; awaiting either a hot landing, or a violent demise in the planet's atmosphere.

Cyril needed something to lighten the mood; for his own sake if nothing else. He knew a number of the Jedi by reputation, but he'd never spoken a word to any of them.

"My name's Cyril Grayson." He quipped, "I've heard of most of you, but I haven't had the honor to meet any of you. It's a pleasure to be aboard this flying meat can with you lot." He cracked a wide smile; the kind that cut through tension like a a lightsaber through plasteel. If he was going to fight alongside these people, then he wanted them to know he would be there to watch their backs.

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Quinn Michaels"]

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Aela Talith"]
[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Quinn Michaels"]

The intercom had been turned off now. However through the blast doors that led to the cockpit of the shuttle, he could still hear the pilots. They sounded panicked. Even through the inertial dampeners he felt them lurch to the side. Then he heard the telltale whine of a TIE and its chin mounted laser cannons firing. That must have been close.

A relaxed looking Jedi Master, who looked similar to his own age decided to introduce himself. Voidstalker shot him a nervous smile as laser fire hit the shields and the lights flickered.

"Jacen Voidstalker, ex Captain in the Republic army and drop out from the Jedi Academy," he said. Unlike most of the other Jedi he wore a helmet to go with his breastplate. Regardless of how well one listened to the Force, a battlefield was still a battlefield and he had no interest in dying to a stray bolt. The constant background noise changed; they had hit the atmosphere. Behind them brave pilots would be trying to destroy the Final Order freighter, whilst they went planetside.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

"Michaels" he nodded lightly. "Silver Jedi drop out and basically useless. I know nothing" he told the group slowly. He had heard the fighters leave the hanger, and wondered if he should of been sat inside one of those battered X-Wings, locking S-Foils into attack position. Then again, he had a lightsaber and figured he should be there when this goes down.

"Put it this way, if we get back from this i'm gonna need to meet with one of you and learn some stuff" he chuckled lightly, eyeing his suit. Sasori robes which were technically stolen now. He had left the black cloak behind and just donned his black utility belt. His green lightsaber, The Stark Contrast, lay at his side and he kind of hoped that he wouldn't have to use it. He'd only actually used it once.

"We got the green light? I wanna go get this crystal and train some more."

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]
[member="Cyril Grayson"]
[member="Aela Talith"]

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Quinn Michaels"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]​

​

She smiled, a soft smile, barely tugging at her lips. "A pleasure."

Aela said in response to the mans words, an odd hello. If she was honest with herself, her nerves were steady and even. She didn't fear combat, she didn't fear war. She had done this a dozen times, more in fact. What she feared was leadership, what she feared was the responsibility of heading into the fray and ensuring that everyone went with her, and more importantly, came back. It set her teeth on edge.

Deep down she knew she could do it, she knew that she was capable, but that didn't mean the thought didn't terrify her. Aela's eyes fell shut as the craft entered the atmosphere, tearing through the air and cutting across the sky in a blink. She thought of her family, her father, her mother, what they would do in her situation.

Slowly the beat of her heart steadied, her knuckles relaxed.

The ship shook, an announcement poured over the comm, and Aela turned again, her hand reaching up to hang off one of the straps to keep herself upright.

One Minute.

 

[Chevu Visz]

https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4​

Chevu's blood pumped loudly in her ears as she suited up in the Freighter with Master Talith and Master Voidstalker, preparing for their descent. The Mirialan had been thrust into a position of leadership by Grand Marshall Omai Rhen, but the young Knight hardly felt ready for it. There was no doubt her peers, decorated Jedi Masters and Knights alike would be skeptical. She would be too, if she were standing in their shoes. She had not undergone the trials that they had, nor fought in the many wars. Chevu was highly skilled in her abilities, a prodigy perhaps, but there was one thing that she could not learn from any Master nor teacher. Experience.

The night before the operation, Chevu was consumed with a caged-animal pacing that was only quelled by a Holocall to her Master, who lay ill back at the Temple in Pirin. If only he was well enough to accompany her, perhaps she would not feel so rudderless. She confessed her fears and doubts to her Sullustan Master, but he would not hear them. Master Oomomo insisted, "Now that the galaxy is shrouded in darkness, the Sith Lords sit, bloated in their towers and toys. The time to strike is now!" He showed her Holofootage from the battlefields of Manaan, Ord Mirit, and Ziost. Oomomo spent the rest of the conversation on a passionate tangent, talking of formations and weaknesses in their defense. He pointed to a Sith Lord mixing the sciences of Sith Alchemy with Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology. "Do not underestimate their use of different kinds of technology," he insisted. "Just when you think you've figured out their defenses, they will change the very rulebook on you!" Using sports metaphors seemed strange coming from a withered old Sullustan, but Master Oomomo was rather fond of them. His mouse-like ears twitched, and his dewflaps spasmed as he shouted from his sleeper. She had never seen him so riled up and it worried her.

He rambled on and on for a while, so impassioned that after a while he needed to rest lest he be prematurely catapulted into the "Eternal Sleep." Suddenly, it dawned on Chevu. He was supposed to be a Jedi Marshall in the New Jedi Order, not she. The Mirialan Jedi Knight was Nub Oomomo's proxy. He was supposed to be aboard this Freighter with Master Talith, Master Voidstalker, and Omai Rhen, with his protege at his side.

As she tied her jet black hair back in a ponytail, and adjusted the gauntlets of her leather armor, she felt a great weight on her shoulders that she knew she would never fully shake, even if she grew old and quasi-senile like Master Oomomo. No matter how the others viewed her, she knew one thing for sure:

Chevu would die before she let her Master down.

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Quinn Michaels"] [member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The SpecOps shuttle was one that was painted matte-black with RAM skin similar to Coren Starchaser’s beloved ShortFin. Once this government got off the ground, he figured that vessel would be his primary mode of transit for these kinds of missions, when he wasn’t kicking ass in his Rassilon with the squadrons of the Galactic Alliance. For now? He was going to be showing the SpecOps how things worked in his day. When you were an Imperial you had more funding than you knew what you could do with. Now? He had his own weaponry and armor, most taken from other governments over the years. A light repeating blaster and his scattergun, advanced armor, and training.

He looked around the shuttle at the fire team, there were at least three other shuttles. He looked around the shuttle to the helmeted characters, he knew who was under the helmets, who his fireteam mates were, but there were more than one team per shuttle, so it was clearly open that even the likes of [member="Alen Na'Varro"] could be aboard ready to beat the Sith into obscurity.

This was the galaxy’s time to shine, the galaxy’s chance to bring light and justice to the Sith, to push them back. All starting with this mission. He felt as much as sensed that they were pulling into real space. They’d be feeling the tension of the atmosphere. “Ready to mount up, folks.” He nodded.

Hopefully the pilots of [member="Roth Tillian"], [member="Alexandra Russo"] and [member="Damon Riggs"] knew to chase down the escaping Final Order’s freighter as per the map as the Hope dealt with the Final Order’s ImpStar.

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Finally, finally she was back where she belonged. The cockpit of a ship, any ship. Only this time the ship in question happened to be an X-Wing and she was taking it into a fight. The hanger of the hope ​around her shone, the lights and crew men slowly ordering the Rapier squad and all the other ships from the hanger.

Slowly she brought her ship from the ground, guiding it from the hanger. This was her first mission and she planned on giving the Jedi enough time to get what they were going for. Only... to do that she had to engage the Imperious and it's small army of Tie's. She didn't mind taking out some fighters, it was the Imperious that scared her.

She looked back lightly to the R4 unit sat behind her. "Lock S-Foils into attack position, divert 10 percent of our power to the engines. Twenty percent of our power to weapons and everything else to shields for now buddy" she told him lightly, watching as her wings popped out into the X shape the ship had become famous for.

She had broken away from the pack, she was aware of that. She was also aware as she turned her head to the side one massive fire ball came flying past. "Scanners active, right buddy?" she asked again, nodding when she got the beep she was waiting for. Each red dot on her scanner was in the main fight, all but one.

"Well, we got a tail buddy. Reverse engines" she told the R4 unit again, listening as his beeps translated onto the screen to her lower left. "Mhm, we're going around him" she replied, nodding again. The TIE was gaining on them, and just as he got into range Frost sent her X-Wing into a nose dive, flipping underneath the Tie.

While upside down she caught a glimpse of the Jedi transport entering orbit, and she couldn't help but wave. Slowly she brought her ship around to a level field before reversing her engines and quickly jumping backwards, right behind the tie that was chasing her. Opening her turrets she smiled, watching as the red plasma slowly removed one of the wings from the TIE.

"Rapier Squadron, I got one on my six, you mind handling him while I deal with the one in front?"

[member="Alexandra Russo"]

 

[Placeholder 0133]

This wasn't Rook's first rodeo. He'd been busted down to private upon enlisting. If he were anyone else the clone would have been more than a little irked. As it was, so long as he was allowed to fight, he could not care less. Credits meant little to him save for a means of survival and maintaining his gear. When those bases were covered, they just put a bigger target on his back. He was just happy to have some sense of direction in his life again.

It was by luck alone that he'd been assigned to one of the fireteams flying with [member="Coren Starchaser"]. Rook was a nobody here. Not a soul knew of his prior business with the Republic; neither the heroism or the disgrace. He had a clean slate now. It was time to build something with it.

"Check." He muttered as he ran over his suit diagnostic in his HUD. The armor wasn't terrible, but it certainly wasn't Katarn gear. "Been awhile since I danced with a team. I'll try and remember the steps." He quipped, sliding back into his seat as the shuttle began to break through the atmosphere. He'd forgotten how jarring entry on a shuttle such as this could be.

He fell silent as his stomach began to do cartwheels. There wouldn't be many more words from the former Commando until things settled.

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Find yourself dissatisfied with the homeland too, Voidstalker?" Cyril lofted a brow. The responses alone helped to set his heart at ease. You couldn't work as a team without knowing one another's names, after all. "And uh...Michaels, right? Men with rocks and strong throwing arms stopped tyrants back in the day. I'm sure you'll be more than helpful."

He offered the Chiss what passed for a reassuring smile. He understood the young man's doubts - he'd had them himself in the past. He nodded as each person offered some form of greetings, and drew a bit of amusement from Master Talith's hello. His lips parted to speak further; until the debilitating sensation of the ship cutting through the planet's atmosphere gave him pause.

He'd experienced it so many times in the past, but it never failed to make him uncomfortable. He took to silence.

The ship was fast approaching the LZ, or what passed for it anyway. The time for jokes and hellos was over. This was the start of something more. Something he could dive into, and forget the words of his sisters and late mother. It was in battle that he did not have to think on his own misdeeds; about the family he'd abandoned for what he saw as a greater cause. He swallowed heavily as the shuttle made its final approach.

Another war awaited, and once again, he happily marched to the trumpets' song.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

[member="Aela Talith"]

[member="Quinn Michaels"]

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Russo nudged the stick and shot through the center of the fiery explosion of the Intercepter she'd just splashed, then another pilot called for help.

"Rapier Squadron, I got one on my six, you mind handling him while I deal with the one in front?"

"This is Rapier One, I'm on my way." Alleycat keyed back to [member="Alicia Frost "], then rolled the X-wing up on the starboard stabilizers and started the long turn that would bring her in behind the squint on the other snubfighter's tail.

Rusty anxiously hooted a warning about another Interceptor moving to swing in on Alex's tail, but the determined brunette did nothing to lose the enemy fighter. She pressed her attack, sharpening the arc of her turn to trim distance from her target. When the aiming reticule went red and a target-tone was achieved, she squeezed the trigger and sent a proton torpedo at the troublemaker for the other pilot, blowing it to bits.

"You're all clear. Good hunting!"

Now her copper red R2 unit became more insistent and Alex just smiled. "I know, I know… Kill thrust." As the droid complied with that order, Russo punched the right rudder pedal with her foot. That swung the aft end of her ship up, a maneuver that gave the trailing TIE a rather tantalizing broadside shot. "Counterthrust, now." Rusty brought the engines back up to power as the X-wing's aft completed it's 180-degree arc. The engines thrust against the line of the ship's flight effectively killed its momentum and for a split second froze it in space within target sight of the Interceptor.

But, the Interceptor pilot had already begun his roll and turn to keep his guns trained on where Alex's X-wing should have been. Russo feathered her left rudder pedal and tracked the nose of her snubfighter along the squint's flight path. Switching back over to lasers, the quad's let loose two bursts of red darts at the perforated port-wing of the enemy fighter and stabbed right through its cockpit. The Interceptor slowly spiraled out of control, then burst into a ball of flames. Yeah that was a lot of hotdogging, but she was still good enough to get away with it, hopefully.

With new orders coming in from Control, Alleycat passed them on to the pilots. "Rapiers regroup… Come to a heading of 272 degrees. We are tasked with stopping that fleeing Final Order freighter."

@pilots

 

[Spark Finn]

Pale-brow furrowed as the shuttle rocked. Thin-form hunched over the datapad propped up on her knees. What was the slicer turned Galactic Alliance supporter doing? She was blocking codes and making sure the shuttle and fighters IFF codes were scrambled for as long as possible. Better to make it to the Javin system in one piece.

#notblownupyet #IwantBBQchips

The armor that Coren wanted her to wear remained untouched, next to her converse-clad feet. It rattled against the shuttle floor with the turbulence. Slim-digits adjusted the black-rimmed glasses on her nose. "We're still running ghost on their sensors."

She had the other GA slicers to thank for that too.



[member="Coren Starchaser"] and all the peeps in the transport!

 

[Relit Vandal]

Something worth fighting for, something worth dying for. Something to believe in. The galactic alliance was a myriad of characters, skill sets ranging across a wide expanse, yet the group found binding in their sole purpose to rid the universe of darkness. That ever consuming thing, always reviving, yet demanding constant attention.

Relit was a non traditional combatant, even by most standards in the Jedi Order. Trained by a Jedi Master, learned from the Kaleesh, and learned from time spent abroad. He carried with him an assortment of gear, tied together by the veneer of rags and a heavy coating of dust that tanned the hide and leather and canvas. But he had long moved on from the worries of what others thought, it was what he was capable of that mattered most. And it was his intuition that put him on even kilter now, feeling the worry and concern from one of the younger Jedi Marshals. Perhaps it was the father in him, or the makings of his training passed down from Vastille, an unknown Jedi Master of little rapport. But needless to say, it budded.

"Zelosians fear space..." He said without introduction as he approached [member="Chevu Visz"]. "Or maybe that's just me...but the wary and concern isn't in the actual act of being in space, it's what I can't see or understand that concerned me in my youth." He paused, sensing the emotions in the Jedi Knight. "You're going to do fine. You're here for a reason and you must trust that." He looked towards the hull, the bucking of the metal as it was heated in entry to the planet. Jutting out his lip, he smiled. "It will be nice to put feet on soil once more."

He turned and put out a gloved hand, cloth worn to near transparency in some spots. "Relit Vandal..."

 

[Adele Adonai]

Jedi Knight Adele Adonnai would not be joining the ranks of others during this journey. However, that did not meant that she was not inclined to show her support.

Her role was that as a healer, be it through traditional means or through the Force. She also had another path, one that dealt with manipulating the Force and enhancing her allies through Battle Meditation. The Iridonian had an affinity for meditation, and in this, she would provide a measure of aid to those who were to step out into the fray.

Nothing began without first channeling the Force and becoming one with it. This process was a long one, and would take several steps and preparation for her to widen her sphere of influence once she was deep in the throes of it.

So while the rest were making ready, the Jedi Knight sat in a seiza in her room aboard the flagship. While many would not know the healer personally, they would soon become acquainted with her presence.