Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Dominion All Alone in the Night | CIS Dominion of Kayri III

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A mysterious world, located in the expansion region. Kayri III only known sentients are the equally mysterious Charon, a hybrid humanoid-arachnid species. Fast, powerful, and terrifying, they have become legends whispered among spacers. Any attempted landing there will no doubt bring these bloodthirsty creatures out in hordes, and no expedition there will be anything other than incredibly dangerous…

However, criminal fugitives, escaped from Montitia aboard a disabled shuttle, have crashed on Kayri III. Fearing arrest and capture after a failed attempt to disrupt Confederate operations, they will be shown there is nowhere to run, nowhere that the long arm of the Confederacy cannot touch. A strike team has been assembled to the planet, locate the crash site, and track down those fugitives who have survived. Despite the fact they are considered to be armed and dangerous the order has been given, capture first, kill id necessary.

The Confederacy is also sending a second force to search out the void stones rumored to be found on Kyri III. These artifacts, brought by the Kayri into our galaxy, have the ability to dampen, even stop Force abilities, as well as interrupt a Force-users connection to the Force. In an era where conflict and tensions are high, these stones could be the key to tipping the scales of future conflicts. The objective has been made clear, find the stones and bring them back. This task, while suited best for the Knights Obsidian, has been given with a warning to those who are Force Sensitive. The closer one gets to the stones, the more difficult it will be to use the force

With little intelligence to be had on the planet, and the charon themselves, the mission facing the Confederates proves to be a difficult one! Those making up the High Command of the Confederacy are well aware of what they have aske, but have every confidence those who have accepted this mission are more than capable of success.


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A group of 10-12 criminals, fugitives from Montitia, escaped onboard an old shuttle. A parting shot by a CIS fighter disabled the ship, and our intelligence states they have crashed on Kayri III. Be aware, Kayri is crawling with Charon, and this deadly species is nothing to underestimate. If things turn sour, you’ll likely be outnumbered, and very possibly outgunned. It is best to get in quick, find your marks, and do the job you came for and get out again. It is time to show those who would challenge the Confederacy that there is ‘nowhere to run and nowhere to hide’!

Your mission:

  • Locate the crash site,
  • Find any survivors,
  • Capture or kill them.

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To the Charon, void stones are holy artifacts, to be defended at all costs. To Force-users, void stones are terrible devices, able to drown out ones’ connection to the Force. To the CIS, this is a potential weapon we cannot afford to not have in our arsenal. For Force-users going, as you grow closer, the Force will grow further from your grasp, and you will not have your abilities. For everyone, if the Charon find you, they will stop at nothing to stop you and slaughter you without mercy or remorse. It won’t be easy, but your Confederacy needs you to get this done!

Your Mission:

  • Evade the Charon,
  • Find and recover the void stones,
  • Get back to the extraction site.

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As always there are other things to accomplish on this planet. Explore the world, discover its secrets, gather more intelligence. Whatever you find to do, this is the objective for you!

 

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OBJECT: BYOO - How's it going Bro'​
Location: Halcyon Storm
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Sitting in the personal quarters of his brothers quarters. Caf' in hand he sipped at the brewing hot coffee blowing it off with a few brisk blows. Hot bantha piss this crap is hot. Matthew thought to himself as he stop sipping on the hot brew for a moment. His eyes glanced around the Halcyon Storm, he had always known his brother was the star of the family, but this was just overkill.​

Matthew and John hadn't been around each other much since they were younger, due to the fact that Matt had gone off fetching bounties and fighting as a mercenary in people's wars he wasn't around much. He had tried to keep in touch with his brother, but to any outside source it was less of a brotherly relationship then one of easy business. Matt had made a living fighting, and with the fact that his brother was the creator of many modern day weaponry it made since that he would contact his brother to help him stay outfitted in the best of gear.​

Standing up, he walked over to the window that viewed the planet that orbited below them. This was an unusual sight for him, with such a large viewport he could just get lost at how the stars glittered and the planet looked, somewhat peaceful. He didn't know what lived on the planet, honestly he didn't really care. Far above the planet looked peaceful, the sounds of the ship almost inaudible in the background as he sipped on the Caf that was in his hand he closed his eyes for a moment thinking of the many years he had spent going from fight to fight without the time for the little moments.​

Having spent many years fighting for his survival and for the credits and other currencies that he had under his belt, he had just only recently realized the importance of family, and he didn't want to let his go. They had always been good to them, even if he hadn't been the best member of the family, always having more been akin to the black sheep than anything else, never making the best of names for himself. Despite this he wished to make some type of amends with his brother, even if their relationship hadn't been very strained in the years following his departure into the stars, he wished to have some sort of connection with his older brother, one that he had missed out when they were younger.​


 

Kobi Fesser

Guest
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Location: Kayri III, Landing Site
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tag(s): Skylar Vikaar Skylar Vikaar | Open
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Kayri III. It was a world of obscurity hidden among the stars of the Expansion Region. Little beyond the knowledge of its colonization by creatures from outside the known universe, from outside even this dimension. That and the rumored artifacts that had been brought with them in their emergence within the galaxy. These Void Stones, as they were called, played a peculiar role when in the presence of any Force Sensitive. At least that’s what the texts back at the temple where he first began learning of the Force had mentioned. How much truth Kobi placed in the thought that these stones could dampen, or even negotiate the Force completely, just seemed to be a little farfetched to the young Jedi hopeful.

“Come on Skylar!” Kobi’s voice echoed out over the landing area as he rushed from the shuttle and down the ramp to where Kayri III’s alien surface awaited. “These stones won’t find themselves!” He waved his arm in the direction of Skylar Vikaar Skylar Vikaar , a friend he’d made once upon a time back at the temple where they both started their adventure down the path of the Jedi.

It seemed crazy to the young empath that their paths continued to cross as often as they did. But, it was something he always looked forward to. Something that always seemed to bring an extra heir of exuberance and elation within him. And those positive feelings went way beyond anything Skylar could ever hope to understand. Especially given his status as a natural empath in the Force.
 
Relationship Status: It's Complicated

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G U A R D E D

Wearing: xxx
Weapons: Wolfsbane and Ferrum Solis
Tag: Lavria Xedrim | Palm-Imer Palm-Imer | Oleander Webb Oleander Webb

Kayri III proved to contain a valuable asset to some, and to others a devastating artifact. Why anyone would want to capture a device which nullified the force was beyond the lupine. Even to use as a weapon against other force users to create an advantage made little sense. After the events of Montitia, however, the Minister of Science had seen fit to encourage the Lord Commander that he could make up for his indiscretion by securing the thing she was after. He did not like it one bit, but Gerwald understood who’s good graces he could not afford to be without. Visanj T'shkali Visanj T'shkali was one such person.​
Gerwald assembled a makeshift team of those Knights he had managed to test and interact with. He needed squires and knights which were available, and free of other obligations. There were Masters of the Knights Obsidian which could have been more valuable as far as their skill, but Gerwald wanted a team he could mold, those that would be loyal to him and his methods as opposed to those set in their own way. It had taken him time to assemble, but he had his team.​
Lavria Xedrim was a capable fighter. In fact, the Zabrak lived for battle. He had tested her against the heat of battle itself and found her to be more than able to accomplish the tasks he had set out for her to do. Her unfortunate capture had been rectified, mostly by her own doing, another test which Gerwald had not planned gave him the answer he needed.​
Oleander Webb Oleander Webb found himself to be a mystery to Gerwald. He had worked with the Anzat before, and knew him to be skilled in combat, however that was not why he had been selected for the team. The Anzat was the embodiment of death. His unique form of sustenance had proven to be useful for gathering information when needed. The Lord Commander knew there would be times that knowledge would be the difference between success and failure.​
Palm-Imer Palm-Imer . Gerwald had no words for her. From the moment they had met her skill as diplomat and warrior were evident. There would be those who would say he favored her, and therefore she found a place at his side. In truth, she was now his squire. Her current predicament caused her to choose to cut herself off from the force. That was why she was here. The choice she had already made was one the Void Stones would not make for her. Where the rest of the Knights Obsidian would likely struggle the closer to the stones they moved, Palm would not. It was possible the success of this mission rest with her.​
“Load up,” he said as he motioned for the dropship.​
The sound of his boots echoed in the hangar bay of the Halcyon Storm as he moved toward the vessel. As usual, the lupine would be the first on, and when they arrived he would be the first off.​
“Everyone stay vigilant. These stones are guarded by Charon. The only information we have is they are deadly and some kind of hybrid human-arachind thing. From what little intel we have they worship these stones… which will hinder your use of the force.” His eyes turned to Palm for a brief moment with a knowing look. “When we land, be ready. I expect us to be met with resistance immediately.”


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Ruus Kote

Strill Securities Alor'akaatse

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CABUR

Immediate Friendly Forces:
  • 1st Jurkad Verde "Kad'b Marev" Armored Battalion, Solus and T'ad Company
  • 1st Jurkad Verde "Shereshoy" Mechanized Infantry Battalion, Solus and T'ad Company
  • Ruus Kote's HQ Company
Just another shabla day at the office. It was an aruetii turn of phrase that was more than applicable to the current situation. Were he younger, Ruus might've complained to anyone who'd listen about being stuck with a detail like this. Younger Ruus would have much rather gone after the chaakar who'd somehow thought a world inhabited by force nullifying rock worshipping bio-construct using venemous shabla bugs was preferable to getting a blaster bolt to the brain, or a nice comfortable prison cell. Older Ruus knew that someone had to do the less glamorous job.
Did that mean he got to kick his boots up onto his command console and catch up on the sleep his piled up administrative duties had denied him, or that he got to fold out a chair and enjoy a nice cold drink? Oh shab no. That'd be too kriffing easy. Not at all. Instead, he had the pleasure of being stuck on a Busayr heavy assault transport on the way down from orbit as it, members of its squadron and their escorts fought their way down to the planet's surface to the LZ marked by Anakwor Farlorn Anakwor Farlorn and his men. He was kriffing grateful that they didn't need to perform the pathfinding and recon tasks for this operation as well, but unfortunately that was still not the end of their troubles.
Farlorn's men and his had fought shoulder to shoulder, back to shabla back, and just about any other shabla combination that came to mind against the waves of Charon that had come. It wasn't just the regular shabuire, who were bad enough with their armor, but bizarre kriffing things that had tried to take the Colonel and his men away in bizarre ambush attacks. Which was only after they figured out that Mandalorians in full beskar'gam weren't quite easy to drag off.
Even that wasn't to mention the walking monstrosities they'd unleashed. Sure as sure, the shabla things at least died when you shot at them right, but right as the pilots had returned to resupply, it was that precise moment that the enemy fighters had shown up. All this would be fine, if every one of these shabla bugs didn't have venom coated claws.
There were some who would have found fighting this ensemble of freaks entertaining. He? He'd just like a job where things were not fraught with complications for once in his shabla life. Or maybe he really was just getting older. Or maybe it was the relative lack of sleep? Either shabla way, they had a job to do.
No sooner had the thought passed from his mind, did he see two jetii'ika step out of a shuttle. He didn't know for sure, but he was assuming given their attire. One of the jetii seemed to run off away from the pad, and Ruus being a father of three himself didn't need to be a jetii himself to guess where that was. Turning his helmet's speaker up to full volume, he decided to remind put a stop to this before things got out of hand, "You there, jetii'ika, stop! Didn't you read the shabla SOP on the way down? You're not supposed to leave the shabla LZ without an escort!"
No sooner than the words were out of his mouth did Ruus realize that the KO were likely to be among the first to break that rule. He muted his external mic and sighed in the privacy of his own buy'ce. It was going to be a long kriffing operation. With any luck, Colonel Farlorn and his men were having a less exasperating time.
 
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O B J E C T I V E

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Wearing This: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Visanj cursed the pilot who merely disabled the ship, and silently vowed that more combat drills would befall the starfighter corps in the coming weeks for this. Kayri III was not exactly one of the galaxy’s hottest vacation destinations and with good reason. The Charon weren’t a friendly species. Quite the opposite actually. They were downright horrible. Physically powerful, the humanoid-arachnid hybrids were fast, stealthy, and hard to kill. And if that weren’t enough, the wretched things were fanatical cultists bent on domination and slaughter. Vis felt like a kid on Life Day having been so gifted with such an assignment.

She wasn’t on the fugitive retrieval team, that would be Lofwarr’s gig. Instead, Vis was to be hunting down void stones. Great, she thought, go to this hellscape world, filled with giant angry bug-men, and find rocks that sever your Force connection when you get close to one. Sure, what’s the worst that could happen?

Visanj looked at Gerwald Lechner Gerwald Lechner , and was happy to see the Lord Commander was back to his usual no-nonsense self.

“Lord Commander,” Vis asked, “Will we have close-air support for this one? Maybe something to turn back the creepy-crawlies and put a barrier of fire between them and us?” Vis really hoped he was about to say yes.



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Location: Landing Site
Open to others!



This place gives me the uber-creeps.

The Snicket eased down on the surface of Kayri III, the landing jets hissing as the gear pressed into the mulchy ground. Juniper could feel her ship start to tilt, ever so slightly, like the world was slowly about to eat it all up. Rapidly, she tapped at her equipment to see if it was insecure... but the scans told her nothing. For all intents and purposes, it just seemed like normal ground. Plant-life, some form of aerated dirt... nothing much else.


But who knows what's hiding underneath?

It'd take a serious job for her to come out to this awful corner of the Galaxy. Which, unfortunately for her, she'd found. It seemed simple at first, just a passenger job out to Kayri III. The details had changed though as they'd approached orbit. The client himself insisted on changing the details.

"I see we are landed, Miss Jett," he said from the doorway, making her jump out of her skin. She looked over her shoulder, staring at him. A human, or near-human at least. Cold eyes beneath oddly-focused glasses, in a plain suit that could've been anything between bargain-cheap or utterly, mind-bendingly expensive. Short, cropped, dark hair and a slightness about himself that didn't speak of danger... until you noticed the exceedingly dangerous looking blaster in his hand.

"Yes, we are." Normally, it'd be a sarcastic response but Juniper didn't feel like antagonising her current client. He scared the living heck out of her, for one. And for two? He was offering to pay ridiculous amounts of credits for this.

"Capital. What a delightful ship," he commented, without any feeling or mirth.

Once the ship was cooling, Juniper stepped off the ramp, onto the world itself. The ground squelched under her boots. Juniper grimaced, hand moving to the blaster on her belt. Nowhere near as fancy as her client's, but it'd do if anything creepy with too many legs showed up.

Her client seemed utterly unbothered by the surroundings, or the danger. He stood before her, scanning the environment with a pair of binoculars. She could hear the faint whizzing and whirring of the circuitry inside.

"Have you found anything yet, Mr Foryne?" Juniper asked, keeping a respectful distance from him.

"Alas, no," he said quietly, still looking through the scope. "I expect little from the Confederate authorities these days, but I would have hoped that a strike team would be more visible than this." Juniper swore she could hear him sigh, before he lowered his binoculars. "Our deal remains the same. You will escort me to the strike force and we will see their mission done."

Juniper gulped audibly.


"Even if-"

"Whatever the circumstances, miss Jett. I want to see that fugitive. I want to look him in the eyes. I want to see him destroyed like he destroyed my so-"

Juniper nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I remember your briefing." I'm gonna be ill... why am I getting dragged into this? I'm like 19, I look like a stick with long hair.

"Marvelous. Shall we begin?" Mr Foryne asked her. She nodded, keeping her blaster at hand as they advanced into the twisted wilderness around them. Looking for a CIS strike team, or the crash site itself.
 
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~ w. mind that can see into time ~
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Location: KO capital dropship
Wearing: civvies + blast vest
Toting: standard blaster rifle, vibrodagger, and various geological equipment
Tag: Visanj T'shkali Visanj T'shkali + [open!]
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Crystallography to die for.

Not that she wanted to. It would surely be unfortunate. She wanted to retrieve them just as much as she wanted to study them. First and foremost the knowledge would be for her own edification, but if the Confederacy wanted to pay for the necessary studies? All well by her. She'd be more than happy to share the secrets she could unlock.

Evidently, her name had jumped from miner to miner to spacer...all the way into the purple-tinged portion of the galactic map following the Expedition of Senth 052. How else would a Deputy Minister happen upon the holofrequency of a relatively-new graduate, let alone hire her? Whatever the answer, Asori tried not to give it too much thought. A job was a job. Experience was experience.

And, sometimes you just needed to get shot at for that experience.

What's more - pay was pay, and what was being offered here was unusually cushy for a xenogeologist. So, in multiple ways, biting the hand that fed her was not on the day's docket. All of her availability was reserved for science and asskickery.

She chuckled to herself as she finished checking her utility belt. Field rations, extra blastpacks, handlens, hydrospanner, a Force detector she had altered just so. If her hunch panned into hypothesis then theory, it would prove very useful indeed. In fact, the young academic doctor found herself crossing her fingers in her trouser pocket as she approached her current employer.
 
ɢᴇᴍɪɴɪᴅᴀᴇ

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The few who had heard of Palm-Imer knew her as woman of words and bureaucracy - a diplomat, representing the mysterious and isolated Consors System. All of this, of course, was true.

But it was also leaving out a lot of information.

The Geminian Ambassador had spent the previous hours seated in the solitude of an unoccupied room. As habit dictated, the hours leading up to a mission of this kind she preferred to spend in deep meditation. Now she could not touch the Force, her bond to it obstructed by walls of her own construction, for some things were best kept inside. Locked away. To her this was all the more reason to sit down with her own thoughts. The Force was not there to aid her focus, there would only be her own will.

When the hour drew near, she moved towards the hangar bay. Her body was covered by a dark suit, crafted in her home-system. It was unassuming, allowed for freedom of movement, and would grant her protection that was comparable to armor. She'd need her speed and her agility, this allowed her that. Her guard-shotos were clipped to her belt, placed across her lower back, were they were easiest to access and retrieve. A sturdy pair of gloves covered her hands, always protected from harm. Everything was in order, and she was ready.

Out of all the people that would be joining in on this mission, she only knew the one who had summoned them personally. Gerwald. She had promised and chosen to follow him, and today would be another day in which she saw that promise kept. The Confederacy was becoming like another home to her, and so the duty she had sworn to it the day she joined the Knights Obsidian would be honored with just as much dedication and selflessness as she spared her own nation.

Soon enough they were leaving the hangar to take their places in the dropship. The Charon, judging by the little information available, did not sound like very hospitable hosts. Perhaps some years back the description of them would have been enough to send a shiver down her spine. But those times were long gone. She thought of the Hungerers native to her planet and the many times she had crossed them, or the monstruous abominations she had to confront on Irith...No, the Charon did not inspire her fear, but that was no reason to underestimate an enemy.

As Gerwald briefed them in for the last time she remained attentive and focused. Her eyes met his when he sought her out, a steadfast calmness cooling the vibrant golden shade. At least there would be benefits to reap of her current predicament, so long as everything went according to plan.

The void stones could not take what she didn't have.



 


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H U N T

Tag: Vren Rook Vren Rook | Juniper Jett Juniper Jett | OPEN

The CVT-48 Outlander-class Starfighter rocketed through the depressing atmosphere of Kayri III. Pressurized gases filtered past the aerials and intakes of the craft, releasing streams of condensation behind the starfighter as Siv Dragr scoured the ground below on his scanner, looking for a place to touch down.

According to the job board, a transport of convicts from a nearby system had crashed on the planet; they were highly wanted, having already skirmished with Confederacy forces. After missions on Kestri that had included attempted communication with an Exogorth, Siv found that the simple, cut-and-clean missions of a Karjr were a welcome opportunity to ground himself.

Eventually he found a spot clear enough that he could touch down, and the Outlander came to Kayri III's rocky surface hissing exhaust from ventral vents as its landing gear extended. There was a brief jolting of movement as it impacted with the gravelly surface before it came to a rest, the only noise being the ambient noises of the planet and the hissing of steam from the ship itself. The roof of the transparisteel cockpit hinged upwards, and Siv vaulted outwards, his boots crunching as they came into contact with the ground. He straightened up, walking forward several paces before he looked around, getting a clear view of his surroundings.

He raised a gloved hand raised and tapped on his helmet, and the heads-up-display suddenly changed for a bio-scanner and fob-tracker, gadgets that were mainly relics of his bounty hunting days, but came in handy now and then when he was serving as deputized law enforcement for the Confederacy. Siv was too far from his targets to get an exact reading, but the ship they'd crashed on appeared to be emitting a faint signal in a west direction, down the slope of the outcrop that Siv had touched down on and in the sprawling valley.

Siv drew his blaster, making sure it was prime and functional, before taking a leap and sliding down the slope of the outcrop into the jungle below. It was time to hunt.



 
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Location: Landing Site, Kayri III
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Kobi Fesser, Ruus Kote Ruus Kote , OPEN

When Kobi had told her about the Void Stones she couldn’t believe her ears, rocks that could keep a person from being able to use the Force? Impossible! She had to see them for herself, so when he had made a plan to go search for them as well, she just had to join him. The trip to the planet hadn’t been boring as she got to hang out and talk with her best friend the entire way.

She hadn’t bothered to do any research on the rocks as she was certain Kobi already had. When the shuttle doors opened Kobi had rushed out but she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget anything. Skylar quickly did a mental check and self-pat down making sure she had her lightsaber and some other miscellaneous items.

She looked up and grinned from ear to ear at Kobi’s voice calling to her before sprinting after him, “I’m coming! You aren’t allowed to find any rocks without me!"

Upon catching up to him she planted her boots and slid to a stop, even though she was the same age as he was, he still had been a padawan longer than she had been, so she looked up to him for ideas on what to do and where to go.

“Where should we start?” she asked excitedly before hearing a vocabulated voice shouting about rules and escorts. She looked back at the shuttle and realized the owner of the voice, a Mandalorian was shouting at them. “Do we really need an escort?” she asked the padawan in front of her while looking at the Mando.
 
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Ruus Kote

Strill Securities Alor'akaatse

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CABUR
Immediate Friendly Forces:
  • 1st Jurkad Verde "Kad'b Marev" Armored Battalion, Solus and T'ad Company
  • 1st Jurkad Verde "Shereshoy" Mechanized Infantry Battalion, Solus and T'ad Company
  • Ruus Kote's HQ Company
Ruus' buy'ce inclined to one side ever so slightly as he regarded the jetii'ika and processed her query, "Force dampening rocks, heavily armed bugs supported by walkers and starfighters and tenacious little shabuire that seem intent on dragging just about anyone off." Ruus walked away from his Naast-class Super-heavy Command Tank and over to where one of the Trataab'morut IFVs was parked and waiting. "So if I were you, I'd feel a lot better about this whole situation if I followed the SOP and put several tons of weapons and armor between me and them," he said, armored fist landing on the vehicle's rightside entry hatch for emphasis.
On command, the hatch popped open with the hiss of hydraulics, putting the spartan interior of the vehicle on display. Ruus reminded himself that at their age he was already a member of Strill Securities' Jurkad Verde. He wouldn't treat a Mandalorian their age like a child. He certainly didn't with his two eldest. Just watching the two Jetii made him wonder if there really was any merit to what some aruetii ruug'la ver'verd told him over a decade ago, "Isn't thirteen two young to tell a kid to put on a suit of armor, pick up a blaster and join you in the family business?"
Maybe it was. Did he necessarily agree with sentiment? No. There were benefits to letting adi'ke live out their pre-teen years in relative innocence, and there were benefits to preparing them for the harsh truths that the galaxy was ready to teach them all too quickly. His opinion on the matter was made clear by the fact that as far as his ade were concerned, he'd adhered to the resol'nare. He glanced back at the two and then add, "And today, if you can, I'd rather not give these shabuir too long to think about whether they want round two or not."
 
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There were multiple facets to the title of the 'Waking Nightmare', both sides of which Oleander embodied quite well. In the heat of battle or the midst of a hunt (be it a proper mission or a hangry-inspired bloodlust), he brought a new definition to the concept of nightmare. Other, far less severe moments would see him a manifestation of waking. Such was one of these moments, the Anzat caught in a deep yawn as the small team gathered, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. The previous evening had turned from midnight snack to a proper chase, not a bad thing certainly, it had offered an entertaining challenge and new flavor to the meal when he did at last catch them, but he was certainly feeling the lack of sleep now.

Ah well, nothing like the possibility mortal danger to wake a person up.

His brow furrowed as Gerwald's briefing commenced. Hindering force connection was bothersome, no doubt, but not impossible to navigate. It simply made things a bit more complicated, a few extra steps. Nevertheless, he found himself nodding with Visanj T'shkali Visanj T'shkali 's request for fire. "That or repellant," he added with the raise of a good-natured brow.
 
Do I Dream of Electric Sheep?



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Tag:
Weapons:
- S-66 Scorpio // L 86 - Pisces x3 // T 91 - Taurus x3 // Vibro-Trenchknifes // Diamondback
Armour:
Attire:
It had been an otherwise uneventful rotation until G3 had been given a message by the direwolves, it seemed that there was a high risk mission on a planet called Kayri III. A series of unknown crystals which demonstrated to be able to interact with the bizarre yet ever enigmatic energy wave known as the force. G3 had mentioned to the captain of the ghosts that she was interested in analyzing everything she could when it came to the strange wave form which thus-far had escaped her. Her advanced search into the fleeting nature of the force as well as its aesetic wielders reaching a dead end, leads dancing in the shadows nimbly evading her sensors.

Arriving at the landing zone within the pilots seat of her F-22 Star-Raptor, Gem didn't think much of the planet she had seen thus far. From the places she had seen, it was dull, dark and almost terrifying to the eye. Leaping from the seat of the craft Gem would move to wield the coin that had been gifted her by the ghosts as a political weapon, hoping it would grant her access to the freedom she desired around the CIS landing site. Thankfully, she seemed to be right, at least for the most part. She had mentioned to others that she was a contractor with the CAF, ensuring to keep the skull side of the coin hidden from view... The ghosts were a unit that the universe at large didn't know about, and Gem had no intention of betraying that here.
It wouldn't take long for Gem to see a couple of younger people looking towards a Mando, confused and concerned. Scanners life she would note the construction of a familiar weapon carried by at least one of the younger duo. A light saber, the titular weapon of the aforementioned Jedi, the force wielding religious order who had only revealed themselves to the cyborg recently... and in a most spectacular fashion. Realizing that there was no better way to collect more data on force users, than to hopeful accompany a couple of them on a dangerous mission, Gem would approach the duo smiling with a friendly wave from about the hundred or so meters away that she was at the time, closing the gap quickly.
As Gem would arrive closer, the marionette esque frame of the cyborg, especially around her digitile hands would immediately give her away as something not quite human. With the features closer to that of a doll than anything else. Breaks in the synthetic flesh tracing her eyes, jawline, sides of her neck around her elbows, knees and more would pulse with an ephemeral violet thrumming which would rhythmically orbit her frame in a near mesmerizing pattern while her irises would in turn resonate with a dull matching hew as mechanical breaks would reveal them as lenses.
As she approached the two, the Cyborg would smile faintly towards the group. "Hello there. Don't suppose I can tag along. Name's Gee three em one en one. But, folks call me Gemini." She would smile, seemingly unarmed on appearance save for the two vibro trenchknives sheathed at her belt. Her diamondback stowed in her right thigh component with the Scorpio in her left and her Pisces and Taurus hidden away in her fore-arms would have her looking more like some form of special agent than a soldier. "I figured the more the merrier on a planet like this..."
Photon lights dancing across her mercurial synthetic hair as she would await an answer
 
Captain, SCAR Commandos
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Tags: BX-4381 \\ G 3 M 1 N 1 G 3 M 1 N 1 \\ Skylar Vikaar Skylar Vikaar \\ Ruus Kote Ruus Kote

Immediate Friendly Forces: 56 BX Series Commando Droids, split into 3 squads of 16, plus one command squad of 7 + Deadeye. The commando droids have various sets of weapons, such as the E-5, E-5s, and the vibroblade.

The AT-1 gunships touched down and immediately a squad of Commando Droids ran out from one of them. The 16 command droids fanned out and searched the area for threats. When they confirmed that the landing zone was secure, Deadeye walked out of one of the ships and began issuing orders. "Primary Objective: Secure Void Stones. Make immediate with any friendly parties on the world, and move to secure the force anomalies. Begin movement to possible friendly landing craft." Deadeye and his droids turned on their thermal vision, and began running towards the other craft that had landed on the planet. Deadeye had ordered the droid piloting the landing craft to set down a half kilometer from the area that they had seen spacecraft land at, for safety purposes. Deadeye knew that even his platoon of commandos could use help fighting through the Charon, so he had decided to make contact with the rest of the CIS forces. He had been ordered to do this, but his altered programming gave him some leeway on ignoring orders to get results.

"Sir, we are approaching the landing zone." One of his scouts that had gone ahead had scanned the LZ, and had returned.
"All life-forms or units at the landing zone are members of the CIS, or are currently Designation: Friendly with the CIS forces. Recommendation: Proceed." "All units holster weapons. Form marching pattern Alpha and proceed." He positioned himself and the rest of the command squad in front of the formation, and began marching at double time. As the platoon arrived at the landing zone, the formation halted. Deadeye holstered his E-5, and walked to where the other CIS forces were.

He noted the two life forms carrying lightsabers, and sent the information regarding the two force users to the rest of the platoon. He saw the Mandalorian, and then the other friendly. She had was a droid as well as a CAF contractor (his databases included most contractors and special forces units), and Deadeye knew she would be the most useful. Life forms were simply inefficient, and Deadeye did not tolerate inefficiency on the battlefield. Deadeye decided to make formal contact and again transmitted to the rest of his unit. "Hello. My designation is BX-4323, but most people call me Deadeye. This special forces platoon was ordered to assist any CIS forces on Kayri III in securing the Void Stones. I have calculated that the best strategy would to stay as a unit and move to possible locations of Void Stones. I expect hostile contact with the Charon, so we must be cautious."
 
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Confederate Dauntless Colonel
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Farlorn's Forlorn
Chapter Nine: (Un)fortunate sons
Part One

Tags: Ruus Kote Ruus Kote G 3 M 1 N 1 G 3 M 1 N 1 Skylar Vikaar Skylar Vikaar + OPEN
[Recommended Music]

“Hey,” He felt someone jab the side of his thigh with a boot.

He peeked open one of his eyelids. “What is it, Porky?”

“You ever wonder why we’re here?”

“You mean practical or theoretical?”

“What? When’d you learn such big words?”

Annoyed, Trooper Karsaw opened both his eyelids and sat up. He cracked his neck which was feeling quite awkward due to the angle against the flight harness he had decided to take a nap in. His fully-sealed battledress crinkled as he shifted himself. He could feel the sweat already pooling in his underpants, and he wanted so desperately just to rip it off, but orders were orders, and the Colonel was not a man that tolerated disobedience.

“What I meant just now is did you mean if you wondered the reason we were here in the sense of why are we here right now on a ship hurling onto a world where death is its middle name? Or if you meant it in the grand scheme of things, useless stuff like why we’re here or the equally silly question of our purpose. Trust me in a universe as mad this one, you’d probably find the truth just a pleasing as a pile of bantha poodoo.”

“That’s still… a lot of words.” Porky scratched the back of his bald head.

To say he was a large man was an understatement. He was just a standard human and he was nearly two meters tall and half that as wide. At first sight, he might have looked dumb and simple and admittedly that was mostly true. But to those that knew him, he was sweet and kind and would look out for you in the tightest spots. The fact that he could carry a heavy blaster repeater would have taken a weapon crew numbering four to use like it was nothing and had decided to crudely tape two together, connecting the triggers with a bent mess-hall fork, probably helped that reputation.

Karsaw, on the other hand, seemed to be the polar opposite of the giant of a man. His head barely came up to his chest and he had a tongue so sharp that it made Major Fennstrum blush.

“Well if you’re asking why we’re right now waiting to march to our death. Its cause some higher-up with such rod up their arse that it has its own rod told the Colonel that there’s some valuable crystal on this hell-world we gotta get cause it’ll make them richer and it’ll be no biggie if a few thousand poor folk like us die if it meant them getting an extra zero point zero one percent richer.”

“The Colonel would never send us to die for nothin’. Bet ya there’s more to that.”

“Oh, you’ll be losing the few credits you go left. You know the rumor within the ranks that’s going around?”

“No, I don’t really listen. Mostly just mean stuff about other people that we don’t need.”

“Well, the mill’s churning out the rumor that our dear commander is thinking about getting into politics. Rumour’s that our commander’s tired of being just some bric-a-brac mud-slogger that’s just ordered about to send his men to his death. He’s got his own ambitions, his own dreams and we’re going to die for that. That’s why we’re here. Just so that bastard can get some political clout.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think he’s got a better reason than that. Farlorn’s a nice man and he promised us our own home if we win him enough.”

“Oi!” Captain Osowiec called from the front of the craft and leaned forward as far as his restraint rigs could allow him. “Quit your yapping. We’re hitting the ground in three minutes.”

“Here’s a quick reminder to all you dogs,”
Osowiec had to yell over the growing sound of the turbines and the jostling as they entered the atmosphere in diving attack formation. Fourty men paid their utmost attention to him. It would have been Thirty-nine if Trooper Milo wasn’t busy hurling his rations out on the floor. “Keep tight. I want at least one eyeball on one person at all times and constant radio contact. You see something, you say something. I don’t care if it’s a branch swaying in the breeze, you call it in. Don’t be a hero and try to take one of these bastards one on one.”

He fumbled for something in his pocket and then threw it onto the bay floor. The holo-projector sputtered on, revealing a terrain map of the surrounding area with sigils marking points of interest. “We’ll be coordinating with the Mando’s on this one. Yes, yes, I can already hear your thoughts and they ain’t too bright but these ain’t the same ones that tried to murder our Vicelord so play nice if you come across one of them. They have the armor and the firepower to blast their way to the objective but they don’t know what’s two feet in front of their noses in this environment, even if it spat in their faces. They could be walking ambush after ambush and all they could do is piss against the wind.”

“So here’s where we come in to save their sorry arses. We’ll be providing recon for them. Our job’s to scout ahead and find concentrations of enemy forces that we can’t handle on our own and mark them so the Mando’s can blast those suckers into atoms. Should be simple enough for you dummies.”


“I’m not sure that Vraks over here understands.” Grant laughed as he pointed to his neighbor.

“Grant, if I did not have this harness holding me back, I would strangle you with my bare hands.” His sullen friend moaned.

“You keep saying that yet you don’t. I tell you, the lad here is in love with me.”

Suddenly, the speakers crackled to life and the voice of the pilot blurted through.

“MAYDAY! MAYDAY! WE HAVE TARGET LOCK!”

The drop-ship jolted so hard that one of the troopers yelped in pain when their shoulder dislocated. Equipment packs despite being tightly secured to regulations broke their moorings and went flying all around, striking Grant in the head. His head lolled loosely and blood poured from it. Vraks was screaming.

“That wasn’t normal. Was that?” Karsaw whispered.

“All systems are down!” The pilot yelled frantically. “What the hell did they hit us with? I’m putting us down as softly as I can but it's still gonna be bumpy so strap in tight folks.”

The ship was shaking so hard that Karsaw couldn’t focus on anything. Alarms were blaring and red emergency lights snapped on, blurring into scarlet streaks before his rattling eyes. Something somewhere exploded. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils as wires began to burn. It hurt his throat with every breath. Then the entire compartment became pitch-black.

“Hoods on! Hoods on!” He could still somehow still hear Osowiec. “Yourself first and then help others if they need it!”

Fumbling, Karsaw reached for the gas-hood on his belt. Discipline and training paid off as even despite the chaos he calmly ripped his gas-hood out of its pouch, shook it out, and fitted it over his head, adjusting it so the plastic eyeslits sat squarely and clearly. He tested a few short and rapid breaths, checking to seals to find they were sound.

Still, it was insanity. It was so hard to breathe in these hoods and the claustrophobia made even season soldiers panic. Everything was so loud, echoing again and again inside the hood. He shut his eyes a tight as he could, praying and praying that he would just wake up from this nightmare.

But it didn’t stop. It just got worse. The dread bio-ship came in for another run, its tri-laser pulse cannons sparking. It punched straight through the armor of the drop-craft, leaving behind molten white-hot holes.

Vraks was slammed to the side. Something hurt. A terrible, exposed cold filled his legs and lower torso and he looked down to see that there was an extraordinarily large, bloody hole in his gut. What was left of his innards were falling out in a steaming pile like the outstretched limbs of a beached cephalopod.

Then they hit the ground… there was a terrible sliding sound of grinding metal… the heat of some fire… and then as if as an afterthought, complete senseless darkness.

----​

“Landing Craft B-5 is down.” Chief-Comms Officer Bellary announced. “But that damned alien craft finally got hit by a missile and is no longer a threat.”

Colonel Anakwar Farlorn gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. Almost an entire platoon lost in a blink of an eye. Vital heavy equipment and veteran troops are just gone. “Send my compliments to Naval Command for assuring me their escort would bring my troops down to the earth in safety. When this is done, you’ll have to try very hard to stop me strangling whatever wing-officer was in command here.” He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Are there any survivors?”

“Yes, we’ve detected about two dozen life signals still beating down there. I mean you’ve got to give it to their pilot. They’re lucky, crash landing just a klick away from the Mandos.” At the very least some good information but still men were dead and equipment was lost before first proper contact.

“Do send a request to Mister Ruus Kote Ruus Kote to extract my men with all due haste. I shall recommend that he bring medical personnel with him since there’s a chance we may have incapacitated soldiers. Have Captain Osowiec lads sit tight and fortify their position. There is a chance, though small given their proximity, that Charon stragglers may take notice of their predicament so I would like them prepared well for that possibility.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the meantime have the first wave stick to the plan and advance with caution into the treeline.”

“Your will be done, sir."

---​

Second-Class Trooper Robutel Karsaw woke up and was disappointed that the events before his black-out were not actually a dream. He was upside down, blind, suspended painfully from his restraint rig, his ribs bruised blue and a taste of blood in his mouth. Everything, every inch of his body hurt, but he slowly realized that was a good thing. It meant he was still, miraculously, alive.

Upside down, Porky’s massive face swallowed his entire vision. “You okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Karsaw’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I feel as if I just took a nice visit to a four-star galactic spa. No, I’m clearly not okay.”

“Maybe this’ll help you feel better.” Grunting, he started jostling the harness back and forth, using his brute strength in an attempt to just rip it out of its socket. It was hurting the pain in his ribs more.

“Not there…” Karsaw moaned and pointed downwards. “There’s a lever down there you can flick.”

“Smart thinking.” Then Karsaw realized something.

“Wait! Wait!” He cried out but it was too late. Porky had already unlocked the harness and dropped half a meter onto the sloping roof of the troop-ship.

“Ooops sorry,” Porky sheepishly said and helped Karsaw up.

Groaning, Karsaw got to his feet and patted the big man on the chest. “No problem. My fault… my fault.”

“You hurt…” Porky asked. “More than just now?"

Karsaw shook his head. “I’ll walk again. Where are we.”

Porky took a moment to think. “We’re eye-deep in bantha poodoo as the Captain said.”

Stepping out of the escape hatch, Karsaw blinked at the sunlight coming through the lens of his gas hood. The drop-ship that had impacted on its back was nothing more than a crumpled piece of metal that looked like a giant had stepped on it. It had left a trail of destruction through dozens of trees and digging a trench in the dirt nearly a meter deep. He looked around. Just a the reports had said, they were in a thick jungle. The trees here was massive, some looking to tower almost fifty meters easily with great thick canopies. Strung around these trees were thick ropey vines, creepers, and flowering tendrils, and thorny fern and bracken covered the moist, steaming ground. But there was something wrong with them. They were all yellowed and diseased-looking. Plant-growths were overly ripe and many lay on the forest floor rotting as clouds of flies swarmed around them. He caught a glimpse of a small rat-like creature darting between cover. Its fur was mangey and it was so thin he could see its ribs jutting out.

Porky clumsy climbed through the hatched and joined Karsaw at his side.

“I don’t like this.”

“Same.”

The pair of them found Captain Osowiec and the others just a few paces away from the crash trying to gather their wits again. Most just had bruises and cuts in their tunics that the medics sealed up.

They had set up on the edge of a wide-open clearing where the knee-high dry yellow grass swayed with the wound. It was over a hundred meters before the treeline began again. A small rocky stream formed the line of separation between forest and opening.

There was a pile of equipment they had managed to salvage. Everybody had a rifle. There were half a dozen rocket-launchers, each sharing ten rockets between themselves ranging from AP, HE, all the way the Napalm. They had a few mines, the ones that would jump up after being activated and detonate mid-air, butchering everyone around for ten meters in a storm of shrapnel. Some satchels of heavy explosives as well as a heavy repeating blaster, not counting Porky’s one.

Osowiec already had those that could, around fifteen in all, setting up a perimeter around the crash site and he had Milo in the wreck operating the radio, sending our updates every five minutes.

Karsaw approached the Captain. “Glad to see you in one piece, sir."

Osowiec clutched his head with one hand. "With this pain in my noggin, I wish I wasn't."

"Where’s the pilot? I didn't see him coming out with me.”

“There.” Osowiec gestured to several black tarps that had been laid out. Karsaw counted sixteen and shook his head again. He had long since been desensitized to loss but still, they were his brothers and sisters. It wasn’t right they went out like this, so far from home and in such a place.

“Where do you need me?” He said, trying to take his mind off the sight.

“You look like you can walk.” Osowiec pondered for a moment, tapping his finger against his chin. “Go up to Speranzza’s mob by that fallen tree trunk over there. Take Porky with you and help feed his repeater.”

“Yes, sir.” Karsaw waved over Porky who was helping move around some empty ammo-boxes and razor-wire to cover their open flank by the clearing. “Come on!”

“Remember!” Osoweic called after them. “See something, say something. These aliens are a sneaky bunch, maybe even put the pathfinders to shame.”

The last sentence actually sent a pang of doubt down Karsaw’s spine. The Pathfinders were the most elite that the rangers could give. Masters in recon, tracking, and most of all in stealth, they were virtually ghosts. One of them could stand right in the middle of a well-lit hallway and you’d have to squint just to realize they were there. To say they had equals… surely, the Captain was just stretching the truth for comedic effect.

As they began to approach Speranzza’s position, a breeze swept through the forest. Karsaw heard leaves rustle and branches snap back and forth. Birds in the distance took flight. Insects buzzed with the sound of a chainsaw. Hooting from some sort of primate was echoing between the trees.

Then silence. Total, utter silence. Not a whisper, not a gust of wind. Even the babbling of the water from the stream had seemed to cease. Karsaw could hear nothing but his own breathing and raised voices. Others had also noticed the oddity.

Karsaw had the strangest urge to look across the clearing and saw despite the lack of wind that the trees on the other side were moving. They were shivering and vibrating. He squinted. Shadows were moving. His eyes widened and he was about to shout a warning when the first of them emerged into the clearing.

Easily three meters tall and was encased in a thick carapace exoskeleton. Their bodies were segmented like an insect, held up by four hairy spider-legs with two pairs of thick burly arms protruding from its torso. Its head was squat, wide, and shaped like an egg, ending with short, rattling mouthparts that twitched constantly. Karsaw swore that the eight eyes, black as the center of a void-hole, were staring right at him.

Before he blinked, there had only been one. Now there were three, and many, many more coming out of the treeline.

Ten... twenty… thirty…

And they were just standing there, looking at the Confederate with cocked heads. They were hesitating, their curiosity to these new arrivals for a moment overpowering their all eternal urge to butcher anything that was remotely different to them.

To their credit, Osowiec’s men did not hesitate and at once opened fire with everything they had. They unleashed a barrage of blaster-bolts and heavy-duty slug rounds at their enemy with unnerving accuracy. Rocket’s whizzed out, leaving behind funny white cork-screw patterns, all loaded with so much high explosive that more than one tree fell when a solo round hit its mark and leaving behind a crater a meter deep. Some detonated mid-air, spreading out a blanket of ignited napalm so hungry that it sucked the oxygen out of the surrounding air. Even the moist vegetation easily caught. Toxic ink smoke gushed out from the intense flames, mixing with the steam to create a truly vile smell.

For once, Karsaw was glad to be wearing his gas-hood.

The front ranks of the Charon buckled and toppled, some splintering apart, some bursting into puffs of green ichor. Some stumbled forward, entombed in a layer of napalm that was seeping right through the weakest parts of their armor and cooking them alive from the inside. One of them had their skin a bright red hue after they had been boiled by the steam.

But make no mistake they were charging, leaping forward in great bounds that covered a meter every time. The rangers were cutting them down like there was no tomorrow with their expert gunnery but there were so many of them, it was like a solid wave of jostling bodies that was leaving a carpet of dead behind it.

“Engagement! Engagement!” Osowiec frantically broadcasted on his comms-bead on all channels. “Oh, bollocks. I’ve got a over hundred bloody hostiles in front of me and they’re coming in fast! They get one us and it’ll be bayonets and then we’ll be taken apart like speeder being found by Jawas!”
 
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Location: John's Quarters | The Halcyon Storm
Wearing: Would you believe...a suit?
Tagging: Matthew Locke Matthew Locke

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There were very few sights in the galaxy that had the same breath-taking effect of watching a planet from orbit. Some worlds like Naboo were green and blue gems, lush and wonderful in their vibrancy and life. Others were like Tatooine, beautiful in the harshness of their environment, in their deadliness. And then there were the worlds like Coruscant, like Corellia, each spectacular in its own way. Even the world of Kayri, rotating slowly beneath them, was beautiful in it’s own way, although John was very happy to never step a foot down on its surface, preferring instead to observe the planet from afar.

He was supposed to be “providing overwatch”. The Halcyon Storm had ferried the confederate forces to the planet and was supposed to be on call if anyone on the surface needed support. However…on call didn’t necessarily mean manning the bridge. Although the ship was heavily automated, it still had a core of highly trained officer manning the systems. They didn’t need him watching over their every action, judging each decision they made.

Besides, if they really needed him, it wasn’t like they couldn’t call him on the comms, like he couldn’t respond to any threat or request from the comfort of his quarters. The flick of a finger on the surface of the counter sent the latest authorization winging across to the bridge, another wonder of modern communications. Even with all the automation that they possessed, all the experience his crew had gained over the years, the bureaucracy remained. Sometimes needed to be passed up the chain, but hopefully they could give him a small break at least.

Dark eyes glanced over at the window, at the man standing there as silence filled the room. A gap, a chasm that John wasn’t entirely sure how to cross. It hadn’t always been this way growing up in the ghettos of Coronet City there really hadn’t been anyone they could count on but one another...ok, so there were their parents, but who really went running to their parents because the neighbourhood kids were being mean? No-one that wanted to survive till the next day for sure.

He remembered days of running through the streets, laughter and contentment. Splashing through puddles and the little pranks and mischiefs that made up childhood’s path. Moments of carefree freedom, afternoons spent helping Matthew with his homework. The first time he’d discovered girls, the first broken heart. The words and fists thrown in anger, the cup of caf brought as an apology. Brother’s fought, this was one of the most fundamental laws of the universe. Another law...brother’s always had one another’s back.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

Only...John had woken up one day and Matthew had been gone, out into the wider galaxy to make his mark, to walk his own path. For the first time, John had been left truly alone. It wasn’t something you really appreciated till it was gone, that ready comradeship, the knowledge that just down the hall was one of the few people you’d always known had your back no matter what you did.

He’d followed Matthew’s exploits in the galaxy, sent him what weapons he could, sent what jobs his way he could but...it had been a long time since they’d met. The man standing by the window wasn’t the child who John had bandaged scraped knees for and almost burnt down the kitchen trying to prepare dinner for. It was a man who had experienced things that the Exarch never had, who was his own man and a stranger.

A gulf that was vaster than the lounge that separated them, a difference of experience, of lives that had taken them in such different directions. If he was honest, John didn’t know how to relate to his brother, not anymore but...each bridge was built with a first brick, a first word.

“Do you want milk and sugar with that?”

It was a start.
 

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K A Y R I
Tag: Diana Sophistica Diana Sophistica | [Open]
Location: Kayri III [Outskirts]
Objective: BYOO
_________________________________________________________

Wind slipped by her form, whipping white back like a wild ribbon, whilst the Exarch plummeted through the air at breakneck speed. For some reason she hadn’t wanted to land the Ferocity on Kayri III anymore than she wanted to step foot on it. Instead, she took her leave from the safety of her assault frigate once she reached a point where gravity wouldn’t turn her into a pancake. Where the sudden jolt from stopping the fall wouldn’t snap her spine; stop her heart.

The steady whistle of metal sluicing through the air at close proximity told her that the trio of Magnaguard that she had borrowed from Visanj T'shkali Visanj T'shkali had awoken from statis and had dutifully followed her to their, possible, deaths. The Sith Apprentice used the Force to resist another equally invisible force that seemed hellbent on pulling her toward her destination. The sky faded while the ground rose up rapidly. Almost too fast.

She breathed. Against the wind. Against the pressure against her chest.

She breathed.

The world stopped moving as her descent slowed to a halt. Srina bobbed in the air for a moment before letting herself drop. It was soundless. Her knees bent to absorb some of shock and her hand rose to visibly yank her droid companions from the air. She traveled alone, with her expensive toasters, weapons, and armor. It was all she needed. The sharpness of her features led to exquisiteness that could only be described as artic. The Obsidian Strike Armor that she wore was dark as pitch save for the amethyst hexagons that glimmered when she moved.

Srina typically carried only her Lightsaber into any scenario that seemed like it might require her to cut her enemy down, but something also called her toward a well-kept halberd. It had belonged to her late sibling Tellu Talon before her untimely end on Hoylin. It felt like so long ago. Lately, the moon-child could hear her. Feel her. It drew her back to The Banshee’s Wail like a moth to a flame. It was strapped to her back with a custom holster that could allow free release. It should have been exceedingly heavy. It should have made every step feel like she was moving through wet permacrete.

Surprisingly, it was light.

It was also a bomb in the wrong hands.

Srina felt confident that she wouldn’t leave a crater in Kayri III. She would, however, leave a swath of dead pirates and spiders in her wake. She could feel the absence of the Force with the proximity of the Void Stones that another team sought. Great. As if the damnable lizards weren’t annoying enough. Still. They were a nuisance, at best. Not a problem. The saber hilt at her waist was an easy backup plan if she got too close. So be it. By saber or by halberd she would accomplish all that the Confederacy had set out to do. She was an Exarch, true. But she had always been a warrior first.

She never turned away from a fight.

Never.

The Holo-Comm on her wrist sent out a scan and picked up data from the Ferocity that was returning to orbit. Other teams were already working in another area. Seeking those that required a swift lesson in edict and place. Piracy, theft, was intolerable. The lawless verse that existed with the loss of the OPA was slowly grinding on the edges of the Confederacy. It couldn’t be allowed to manifest. To grow.

A steady beep caused her to pull the hood of her Strike Armor over her head while the HUD began to flare to life. She could see a crash site. Not far. Smoke rose from it in a billowing pillar with a flicker of light that signaled something might have been on fire. She nodded her head and the three Magnaguard leaped forward and began to scramble efficiently toward the wreckage.

Srina followed several feet behind.

There were strange markings in the dirt and sand that took her a moment to recognize. They were so uniform that they were lost in a rushed pattern. Silver eyes narrowed behind her mask. Footprints. There were many of them. All rushing forward toward the ship-made crater that held her prize. A low growl burned in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it, and continued forward with the surety she was known for. Her hand reached behind her shoulder to grasp the hilt of the halberd and a quick thought let her pull the shining weapon free.

It wasn’t stealthy in the slightest.

Also, fine. Srina didn’t intend to hide. When she crested the low hill, she could see that dozens of Charon had swarmed the fallen ship. Her Holo-Comm made several long beeps that transmitted more information through a remote data stream. She frowned. The drive signature did not match. This was not one of the pirate ships. Was it one of theirs?

The coloring was wrong. Wrong model, though, it seemed mostly intact save for a few parts that had burst off or caught fire. More than that, she could feel someone close by. Alive. Buried in the wreckage. While being swarmed by Charon that looked like massive humanoid-arachnids. They were predatory and vicious beasts. Whoever had crash-landed on this pit must have really chosen the wrong flight path.

Srina sent a silent apology for the very loud, very bloody, and very chaotic day they were about to endure. But endure they would. It was better than being dead.

<< You. In the ship. You’re drowning in the cult of ruthless, Epicanthix-sized, carnivorous spiders. >>

Her telepathic voice was the same as what she spoke aloud. Cold. It held all of the dulcet reveries of a dream while still remaining piercing and undeniably her own.

<< Don’t open the hatch. >>

Unless, they had a death wish. In which case the young Exarch would have little qualms in raising their status from “being rescued” to “bait”. She had no patience for fools. Nor, the rapid chittering and clicks while the Charon talked to each other en masse.

Srina sent her Magnaguard into the crater first. She held back. Waiting, for an opening. The right moment. Keen eyes took in all they needed to see. Her grip tightened on her weapon. Moment after moment, time stood still, until it began to speed up and she darted forward faster than the eye could see. The Echani slid down the side of the bank and kicked off so that she could raise the halberd high over her head. She brought it down cleanly and took the head of one of the Charon with her.

They all started to chirp and click at the same time. Then, turned away from the ship. Toward her.

Great.
 
Diana Sophistica
Tag: Srina Talon Srina Talon + Open
Location: Kayri III - outskirts - Red Hare Wreck
Equipment: Lightsaber - Dark Cloak armor
Objective: BYOO

Falling.

Falling.

The ship went down. Taken by a shot from a blind side, she had been hit. The Red Hare, the ironically named mash of tinkering ideas of it's pilot, was failing. It's engines roared as the descent was taking the whole construct down. Not her first crash, hopefully not it's last. The pilot moved with speed and precision, flicking switches and steering with a face that showed only the total focus on the event.

But still it fell. Loud and ever crushing was the moment of impact. Pieces of the ship losing its hold on the frame and letting go. Flickers and zaps indicating the potential for fires to happen any moment. The pilot found herself folded over the controls. Her body a cover for a part of it, which had pieces of her dashboard prodding her ever more unpleasant. Her eyes opening, showing one normal and one shimmering with a power she had trained for years. This power was a Force that gave sight to the eye that had lost most of it's ability to do so by itself. The pull of the Force around her ever present as she slowly straightened herself.

Long comfortable robes, black and soft silk, were before a nice garment. Now it laid in tatters and seemed to wish only to be replaced. A sigh escaped the woman as she realises this. The moment interrupted by a sensation that would be near to a sonar. Within the field of Force she used to experience her surroundings, creatures were approaching. Not only that but objects were in the area that could harm her ability to use the Force. Void stones. Her mind, before somewhat dazed, got snapped back into shape. The hostile creatures, void stones, what a mess she found herself in again. She turned, witnessing her hallway mostly unharmed as she moved to her quarters.

Long ago Diana had learned that panic was not to be used or harboured. Every step an alternation between heavy metal and a shoe carrying her to her destination. The clean, metallic hallway finally reaching her bedroom which held her armoury. She called it a treasury, but in all likeliness it would be more akin to a hoard. Multiple armors standing on display. It took her a second before unravelling her damaged attire. The one metallic arm as nimble as the organic on, and the half scarred body of the woman as well trained and chiselled as ever. It took her surprisingly little time to don the outfit she named "Dark Cloak".
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The cloak washed over her shoulder, waving with a few steps she took between the armor stash and a display of multiple weapons. Her master had taught her to always carry her lightsaber, but that did not mean she could not carry extra weapons. Her eye fell on the extension to her trusted saber. The lightsaber itself was dark, bright red accents and with an exposed ice blue crystal within. She slit the staff extension to her saber under her cape, and put the saber itself firmly in her biological right hand. Her metallic prosthetic left arm, and hand flexing and relaxing a few times as she looked over her shoulder. Someone was approaching... and this person wasn't like the other hostiles...

Her firm steps took the woman into a fast trip towards the hatch. The bright red hair from her head, decorated with ornaments and braids, slowly being brushed from her face, scars subtle showing from her exposed skin as she received the message from the other person. She sounded serious, but younger then herself. It took her only a few seconds to respond. Confident and calm, her voice travelled through the Force to the other person who had spoken to her.

<<Thank you for the warning. If you could, I'd appreciate a hand.>>

She finished her sentence and felt a waft of hot air travelling down the hall. The air, brushing her hair once more into slight disarray, had been slowly filling with the scent of leaked gas. Nothing that wouldn't be filtered out, but it now took form as a sign of an engine heating up through fire. Her sight focusing on the hall as the heat seemed to intensify. Diana raised her hands slightly as she took a breath. Warm air to cold, warm to cold. With a breath the air she exhaled turned cooler, and the air around her too. Cryokinesis, a skill she had learned a long time ago. The air felt pleasant once more, but it would do little to stop the heat once a fire would spread.

<<Listen, I have a problem, internal fires have reached an engine or vent somewhere. I don't know how long this will take before it gets dangerous.>>

Her voice sounded calculated. Even if her feelings were less pleasantly tranquil as she wished them to be. Her grip was slipping for but a moment until she snapped back and took out her lightsaber. Soon there would be a signal to exit, when that happened it would be best to focus on taking out as many as she could.

Whoever this person is, I sure hope she knows what she's doing.
 
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TAG: Siv Dragr Siv Dragr | Juniper Jett Juniper Jett | Open

They always ended up cleaning up the CAF's mess.

Once more, the Confederate Armed Forces could not complete a task without a hiccup. Once more, Enclave Karjr had to go in to finish the job. When you screw up, phone a Mandalorian, it seemed.

Vren let out a cynical laugh as he angled Rusty towards the surface of the speck of dirt that was Kayri III. No self-respecting Mando'ade would have let a single piece of scum escape Montitia, yet a bunch of supposed highly trained soldiers, fleeters and Force Users had ended up losing a dozen.

What a joke.

As the Starfighter touched down on the iffy ground, Vren recognised Siv Dragr Siv Dragr 's own Outlander already parked. Lovely. Now he had a chance to kick his Vod's beskar'd backside. His hand automatically went to the now-patched beskar chestpiece. Mythosaur knew, that was the last time he went swimming with Dragr.

Hopping out of the Fighter, he looked around. His hands hovered over his blasters as his HUD scanned his surroundings. It finally picked up on the crash site of the transport. No doubt, his fellow Karjr was already on the way there, so Vren did not waste time. Kicking his jetpack into gear, he jolted to the bottom of the outcrop, dodging some branches on his way down.

As he started his trek, he tuned his comms to make contact with Siv.
"Oi, Dragr! Don't look now, but you're getting slow!" he teased as his HUD picked up his fellow Mando'ade's signature. It turned out that Vren was not too far behind his comrade-in-arms. Pulling one of his blasters, Vren picked up his pace to catch up to help kick some sleemo butt.

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