Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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desolation of silence

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Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Praetorian Robes, Code Cylinder, Lightsaber (blue), Throwing Knives
Location | Corridor of FIV Hecate, Had Abbadon space, The Deep Core
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Tracking

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[SIZE=11pt]A lone figure stood silently before the viewport, her gaze captivated by the horizon of the planet that loomed before them. Finally, she thought, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she raised a hand to touch the glasteel panel. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Framed by the darkness of space, it was an unremarkable looking world, monotonous in its shades of grey and tan[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]But after all time and effort expended on this excursion, the young woman only felt relief and joy that they have finally found it[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt].[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With only scant data and rumours to guide them, she had torn through the archives of Skye and Virgillia in search of information. She has spent hours upon hours, days upon days studying the documents and files disseminated by their Lord and Master. And then, she had further expanded on the materials provided to them, tracing its destruction to the lost planet of Had Abbadon. With its location situated within the maze of anomalies that was the Deep Core, it was an already challenging endeavour. But with the passage of time came the corruption of source and material. In the end, she was only able to determine that the forgotten system was nestled somewhere in the triangle formed by Tython, Cambria, and Thoadeye.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Even from the safety of space, she could feel the ominous aura that surrounded the planet. The Force continued to whisper to her, imparting to her of its rot and corruption.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Was it the remaining taint of the Muur Talisman[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Despite the deep sense of apprehension that accompanied the forewarning, the young woman disregarded her instincts and instead turned to regard the Admiral of the vessel they were aboard. Dressed in a simple ensemble, Marriskcal made for an unusual sight on the command deck of the Hecate, the bright crimson of her robes distinctive against the dark hues and formal uniform of the First Order Navy. Paying no heed to the subdued conversations that filled the command deck as the officers relayed details and information amongst themselves and throughout the fleet, she made her way towards the stern looking commanding officer, stopping beside the older gentleman that was staring contemplatively at the holodisplay.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Admiral, I will be taking my leave. As per the briefing, my partner and I will be making our way planetside. Though we seem to be the only fleet in the system for now, we cannot disregard that we may encounter forces originating from the New Republic. Please inform us if you detect anything out of the ordinary.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With a final polite nod to the Admiral, the blonde left the command deck behind, her senses drawing on the thread of connection that bound her to her counterpart.[/SIZE]
 
The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Overlord
Equipment: Praetorian Armour
Location: FIV Hecate, Had Abbadon
Status: Preparing
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It seemed in that moment that his power escaped him, as frost began to creep steadily over the polished crimson surface of his armour, a messenger of death itself perhaps. He could feel the fatigue clinging to him, his eyes beginning to drift shut in a terrifying finality, a plethora of memories flashing across his vision. He almost completely failed to notice the sight of a ship screaming towards him, but it was all for nought...

He blinked, the bleak void of space replaced with the dull grey durasteel panel in front of him, a white lamp shining from a section of the wall. The man down looked down at his arms, crimson replaced with tan flesh that was warm to the touch instead of frosty. Thoughts flooded his mind for a few seconds, his gaze affixed to one of his appendages as if examining it, before he stood up and pushed what happened to the back of his head, for the time being, he had a job to do after all. He clenched his hand into a fist, directing it towards his target, before opening it and allowing a red chestplate to fly into his grasp. With a satisfying click, he secured the object around his torso and felt the device expand over his extremities, a flood of nanites dropping down to form the robes that complemented his armour and cloak that signified his station.

A helmet slid over his head, the heads-up display activating and showing him several statuses that he fiddled with for a second until he began walking to the exit, the door opening and permitting him through. He navigated through the hordes of crewmen and stormtroopers stationed aboard the ship, all quickly stepping to the side as he approached, cloak swaying gently behind him. During this, the man felt a familiar warmth surround him in the Force, something that he returned earnestly, his pace quickening slightly as he did so.

He stopped when he saw her wandering about, standing still as a statue until she noticed him and promptly addressed him as usual, likely more affectionate than he would've wished while 'in public'. But in any case, he was ready for what this mission held for him, for both of them.

He was the Eighth Guard after all.

[member="Marriskcal Lati"]
 
Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Praetorian Robes, Code Cylinder, Lightsaber (blue), Throwing Knives
Location | Corridor of FIV Hecate, Had Abbadon space, The Deep Core
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Planning

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[SIZE=11pt]Marriskcal found herself greeted by a small cadre of officers as she strode out of the turbolift, whatever discussions they were having amongst themselves tapering to a silence when they caught sight of her.

It was not an unusual occurrence.
[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]While the young woman was a somewhat familiar figure on the command ship, there were not many whom dared to approach her, nor hold her gaze for long. Although she maintained a pleasant veneer, they all knew she held a nebulous position of authority despite the lack of a clear rank designation. They had to look no further, as the loose robes she favoured and the lightsaber hilt that rested against her hip marked her as the Supreme Leader’s herald. Though she worded her orders in the guise of polite requests, they all knew that refusal was not an option. And thus, they stayed away and watched from afar, the wisps of their suspicion and unease following in her wake.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The blonde initiate dismissed their erosive thoughts, leaving them behind with her steps light and swift when the answering caress of her counterpart’s presence touched her own.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Even with her deep feelings for him, a small sliver of her mind still found it strange how simple it was for them to be together. While she continued to be wary and unsure of the changes it would create between them, they flowed together as seamlessly as they always did. But despite the faint trepidation she held over their fledgling relationship, it was her own emotions that flustered her the most. It was as if her quiet confession from before has awakened sentiments in her that she never knew she was susceptible to. It was almost maddening how he affected her. In his presence, her heart quickened, her breath hitched, her words faltered. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As soon as Marriskcal caught sight of his imposing form, the serious mien she has assumed thus far melted, replaced by a fond gaze and gentle smile. She closed the distance between them and drew up before the older male, peering up at his shrouded features. “I was just about to stop by our quarters to wake you, but it seems you have caught on to my nefarious intentions once again,” she said with a faux pout on her lips. It was a game of sorts for her to try and catch him unawares, one which has only ended in failures so far. Not expecting a verbal answer from her reticent counterpart, the blonde moved to his side, placing a hand at the crook of his arm as she often did. “Did you manage to sleep well[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]No, she would not change the way they are.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The both of them probably made for an odd sight, but Marriskcal ignored the unsubtle stares as she lead the Overlord down the corridor towards the hangar. “The officers had already sent word ahead, so preparations are underway…” her words trailed off hesitantly. “Do you think it is a good idea to have stormtroopers accompany us down to the planet[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]?[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] After all, we are still uncertain if any of the rakghoul infestation has survived.” Even as she brought it up, the blonde realised it was a ridiculous notion. No organic life form could survive hundreds of years without ample sustenance, even if they devolved to cannibalism. But as it concerned the safety of those under their command, it was something she continued to worry about.[/SIZE]
 
The Eighth Guard, Praetorian Overlord
Equipment: Praetorian Armour
Location: FIV Hecate, Had Abbadon
Status: Preparing
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[SIZE=11pt]He didn't answer her the first few times she spoke, choosing to pursue the silence that had come to be characteristic of his station and of himself. He also did it so he wouldn't have to lie to her about his current predicament, the dozen sleepless nights he had encountered ever since his brush with a fate with such a finality that not even the Dark, nor the Light, could ever hope to circumvent. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Eighth Guard had already developed a minor hatred of deep space, yet there was something that calmed him and without fail allowed him to rest his tired form for at least a handful of hours. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was the quiet event that always began with either side of his bed dipping down to accommodate a lithe form that forced itself into his arms and stuffed its head in the crook of his neck. It was soothing, therapeutic, it allowed old wounds to begin to heal, and most importantly it made him feel like something he had never seemed to be before: human. So yes, he didn't want to lie to his only salvation from the eternal pain that wrecked both his physical and mental self, because even if she did not know, then he would.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Overlord craned his neck to affix his gaze to her features, listening intently as she continues to speak as she always did. "No, I don't believe that it is a good idea." He spoke, his voice sounding mechanical due to the vocabulator, "If there are any of these so-called 'rakghouls' still festering in these ruins, then they would only provide fresh hosts." The praetorian didn't know much about the rakghouls and their plague, but he had heard about it in passing while reading through Sith and Jedi texts. Supposedly, this Muur Talisman was what created these creatures, therefore their descendants were still sithspawn in some way.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]They arrived at the hangar soon enough, crewmen detaching a fuel line from the sleek black shuttlecraft that the Overlord had the repeated pleasure of using for missions such as these. He marched up the ramp and threw a glance at the stormtroopers that had assembled inside the passenger cabin, before silently finding a corner to skulk in for the duration of their flight.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The ship departed from the ship, ion engines yowling in the vacuum of space and generating minor vibrations that could be felt throughout the cabin at times. Most noticeable was the slight jolt that they experienced when they entered the atmosphere, the colour that the viewports displayed going from an empty black to a pale blue over a short period. It would be a few minutes until the pilots could find a suitable place to land, but the Overlord began preparing at once, the bilari chainwhip he always equipped materializing out of thin air into his hands.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Marriskcal Lati"][/SIZE]
 
Praetorian Initiate
Equipment | Praetorian Armour, Vibro-Arbir Blade (detached), Lightsaber (blue), Throwing Knives
Location | Dilapidated Garrison (Courtyard), Had Abbadon, The Deep Core
Allies | [member="Eighth Guard"]
Status | Focused

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[SIZE=11pt]It was as she had feared, the aura of decay that clouded Had Abbadon was a dark omen. And his answer to her only deepened the sense of dread that continued to swell and stir at the back of her mind. For a fleeting moment, the light hold she had on his arm tightened, the knuckles of her hand turning white as her clear eyes flickering over the gleaming white armour of the unit that was assigned to accompany them to the surface. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Marriskcal drew a deep inhale of air, giving the older male a sharp nod as she released his arm. “We will just have to be more cautious then.” A part of her wondered if their ranking officer had briefed them about the potential dangers that they may encounter on this mission. Even then, she knew that most beings who were unfamiliar with the Force and all its shades often believed that the dark side were horror stories told to scare younglings, rather than it being the truth. Hopefully, nothing untoward would come to pass and her fears would remain just that, the misgivings of the paranoid.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Quietly, the blonde made her way past the stormtroopers, giving any who glanced in her direction a contrived smile, never allowing any of her unease to leak through the veneer she crafted. While her counterpart was never seen without his armour, her own set were kept onboard the shuttlecraft. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Entering the stowage, Marriskcal stepped up to her section, pressing her palm on the biometric lock to access her armour and its matching weapon. The robes she was wearing began its own process, slowly shrinking and merging into itself as it changed into a dark bodyglove. She removed her belt and exchanged it for the curved armour piece, holding it against her torso until she could feel the phrik wrapping around her back and over her shoulders. As always, she watched in silent awe as the plates fanned out segment by segment, until the helmet began to form and her vision was filled by letters and numerals as the armour began to cycle through its sequence of system checks. Armed with both her lightsaber and twin blades, the initiate made her way back to the main area.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Taking her place beside her silent counterpart, Marriskcal looked out of the vessel as it soared across innocuous blue skies. Her gaze swept over the vista of the planet that may or may not hold any hints that would lead them towards the schematics of the relic desired by their Lord and Master. She regarded the remnants of a once flourishing civilisation, its structures dilapidated and crumbling, exposing its durasteel skeletons. Perhaps it was once a great city, but the ravages of time left it a shell of itself.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Their vessel began its descent, gliding towards a stark but functional structure. Surrounded by fortified walls that loomed high and thick gates that was rusted shut with age, it was quite evident that the place used to serve as a garrison. The shuttlecraft landed in the courtyard with a gentle thud and the ramp began to lower, their complement of stormtroopers moving out to secure the area. Now that Marriskcal was staring at the inevitable advent of their mission, she laced her aura more firmly against Eight’s own, taking comfort from his presence.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]With her blades in hand, the praetorian exited the vessel, her senses sharp and focused.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]They would soon find out if any of those monstrosities survived.[/SIZE]
 

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