Campaign Devil You Know: Campaign to SJC Held Myrkr (Myrkr, Velmor, Orleon, Azure, Katarr)

[Mig Gred]

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Dueling: Cara Dorniarn
Location: Outside the city, in the woods.
Units: 1st MIL Battalion "Netherhounds", 1st Armored Platoon "Wraith Division", Star Angles, Banshee Squadron (12 8-R Toscans), 2 Jai'galaar Bes'uliik
Gear: Lightsaber Trayc'kad, Echani Vibrosword given to him by Kat Decoria , Mandalorian amor, comms unit, Slick Anti-Acid Coat, Sith vibroknife, Nightbrother Fighting Knife, a pair of Taak'tabi, a pair of Hissing Ghosts

Mig smirked under his helmet, but honestly he wondered why this Sith fought so hard. He honestly never understood it. Many of the Sith he'd seen would make decisions that would make a hardened warrior have nightmares. He still remembered the mines, the actions the Sith Empire took after after taking Mandalore. What they did to the Mon Cala people. What they would do to his own wife, Tamar Gred , if they ever found her again. He couldn't understand it, but there actions drove him right now. They drove him to hold the line, and to keep them from taking more worlds. He would keep them back here!

The Kunai appeared to strike true, but his following swing was something else. Instead of backing up, Dorniarn charged forward and tackled him. They were helmet to helmet for a second before she pinned him, and pulled her knife, ready to stab into his armor. The Mando'ad'jetii had to think fast, and quickly pulled one of his vibroknives. A very specific one. It was the one she had left in his gut the last time they fought. He quickly struck at the knife blades together, trying to knock the blade from her hands.

"Not this time."

Tags: WelshGuy K Kaine Australis Coren Starchaser Beltran Rarr Darth Carnifex Aristeia Zambrano Kytana

Fora gave the Jedi an odd look, tilting her head before quickly taking a shot at another Sith. He seemed shell shocked. "Hey! F-focus. I'm Fore Ollen, commander of a unit called the Netherhound. We're on Myrkr, fighting the Sith." She took another shot as she looked back, a Reaper spider droid walking closer to the line and firing over some of the Netherhounds' heads and into the Sith forces. She then looked as the Jedi, nodding a little.

"Right.... Keep people alive. Got it."

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Dueling: Mig Gred
Location: Outside the city
Gear: Personal armor, Judicator, KS-9 'Firestorm' Grenade x2, Sonic Imploder x2, Vibroknife x2
As always, hits are called with permission.

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"One more," she told herself, "one of many."

He was just one more flake of rust to scrape away from her galaxy. To Cara, as long as those that bore his visage, held his convictions, and kept Mando'a as their favored tongue continued to survived then there would always be agents of regression in the midst of progress.

"Agents of the past."

It was no wonder that they and Jedi worked together, both being operatives of protecting a status quo that was set millennia ago then revived during the 400 year darkness. They would both be pleased to remain in their ways, undisturbed like sediment in the bottom of a stagnant pool.

"Time to advance."

Gears whirred sharp as she thrust the knife downward. But what she failed to see was Gred's motion to his belt and his following swipe with an old gift. Both knife blades crashed together with a rasping scrape. Though her grip was solid his hit deflected her path, and instead of in his chest her blade struck the soil. Furious at his action she swung her arm to bash his out of the way, her hand following to seize his and pull it close.

"I see you kept it, Alor Gred," her wrist hummed as she angled his toward himself, the blade in his hand aimed for his helmet, "but lets put it where it really belongs."

No sooner had she begun to apply weight to his hand the crackle in her comm cleared enough for nearby unit chatter to be heard, a single sentence sending a figurative shock up her spine.

"Yo'gand's Core."

She loosed her grip on the Mandalorian and threw her gaze to the sky. Above, the phantom of the asteroid loomed.

"Fething..." she shoved off, falling to a knee as she put a hand to the wounded leg.

 

[Mig Gred]

​

Dueling: Cara Dorniarn
Location: Outside the city, in the woods.
Units: 1st MIL Battalion "Netherhounds", 1st Armored Platoon "Wraith Division", Star Angles, Banshee Squadron (12 8-R Toscans), 2 Jai'galaar Bes'uliik
Gear: Lightsaber Trayc'kad, Echani Vibrosword given to him by Kat Decoria , Mandalorian amor, comms unit, Slick Anti-Acid Coat, Sith vibroknife, Nightbrother Fighting Knife, a pair of Taak'tabi, a pair of Hissing Ghosts

Mig's eyes went wide when he felt the cybernetic arm clamp his own, right after knocking his knife hand away. Cara had gripped his knife hand tight enough that he couldn't release the blade, and stared at him as she prepared to "Put it where it really belongs." Mig tried to fight the weapons approach, much to the dismay of his wrist. His mind flashed to his family for a moment, and then to those he lost. He would eye her, speaking up in Concordian Mando'a. "At least I saved some lives today." But then she stopped.

The Sith looking up at the sky, and the Mandalorian's gaze soon followed. "Osik...." Apparently that transmisson was saying something. Get out of Mos Espa. He slowly got up, quickly grabbing his Trayc'kad before hitting his comms. "R10. Full evac. Now." He looked at Cara, not quiet ready to get off the offensive, but situations....

"Well... I hope you're dar'jetii (Sith) friends care enough to save you, and everyone else on this planet."

In the distances, a number of HA-2 Pikes, fitted with crew modules and open rakes to carry armor, and two other ships. One was a YV-freighter that followed the Pikes, and the other, the Echo's Light, which turned it's bow towards the the duelers' location. He eyed Cara again, still wary.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Joycelyn’s stuff: Lightsabre pike, Zaudraka, Jin’wodasir x3, Imperator’s Raiment, SIF-7 Minos, Dwomotchwûq, Sonic Grenades x 2
Armies: The Cathedra, Varanin Legion.
Sithspawn: Horde Mother, Sith Wasps, Spark Bug, Maelridae.
Palm-Imer Mathieu Brion Inara Basai

Palm crashed into the dirt in front of Joycelyn, and the Sith raised her blade high to cut the woman in half where she lay. Zaudraka surged in her hands, urging her to bring the blade down. She smiled, wide and manic, extatic, like a child unwrapping a sithmas present shaped exactly like her favourite toy. She loved unwrapping Jedi.

But Palm was not ready to give in and be unwrapped.

As Palm growled in response, Joycelyn could see hate in the girls eyes, she wanted to kill Joycelyn. She was feeling real darkness, real potential, real power.

Her sword swung down, but rather than cleave Palm, it sliced into the dirt and sent it spraying, while Palm’s leg connected with the connecting point of Joycelyn’s sabaton and greave. While the metal protected her, it still helped to unbalance her as Mathieu came barrelling in from behind to tackle the vahlacanthix.

As the padawan’s broad shoulders connected with the bottom of her cuirass and pushed into her centre, Joycelyn twisted just so to keep herself from falling entirely out of control. As her shoulders and back connected with the dirt in a forward roll, she slapped her sword hand into the earth, but the blade remained as if it clung to her hand by its own will. Her other hand, the right, the wounded one, lashed out against Matheiu, seeking to send him barrelling away from her with their shared momentum.

It would seem he wanted to share in the sithmas spirit.

While Joycelyn’s armour kept her from doing the kind of gymnastics that would have avoided the tackle to begin with, it was not so heavy as to become too cumbersome when prone. That would have rendered it useless, after all. From her forward roll, she pushed herself into a kneeling position and brought Zaudraka to her shoulder, ready for a counterattack if needed.

“You came back just in time.” Her voice was hoarse from the exertion and her forehead covered in a mixture of sweat and dirt, but she did not appear winded. “Now watch as I peel your friend!”

Joycelyn’s right hand burned inside its gauntlet, pulsing, aching, fuelling the mad, extatic rage that drove her forward. It was a dangerous dance. Her limits were blurred, consequences were not her prime priority. Now, she just wanted to inflict as much pain and suffering she could

Joycelyn’s mouth opened, and from her mouth spewed a torrent of fire that carpeted the ground in front of her between Mathieu and Palm. It was not as hot or intense as the former flames, but every flickering tail of the blue-tinted fire reached out as if threatening to throttle the two jedi.

And where was number three? It was time she joined in with the sithmas spirit.

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Dueling: Mig Gred
Location: In a heap of trouble
Gear: Personal armor, Judicator, KS-9 'Firestorm' Grenade x2, Sonic Imploder x2, Vibroknife x2

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She rose slowly, the muscle in her leg threatening to go stiff with the kunai from the Hissing Ghost embedded. She cast a swift glance to the sky then back to Mig. The mechanisms of her being, both the natural and synthetic, urged her to continue with the fight and claim victory. Each fight with a Mandalorian was personal. Each shattered helmet was a stepping stone to reach what Cara claimed to pursue and was the placebo to what she needed.

Gears fidgeted with tense clicks, systems primed to finish the brawl without care for that which approached above. Unlike her body Cara's mind was not so eager to continue. The victory would be hollow, her death a betrayal to those who depended on her and the end of projects begun by her hand.

What a day.

She started to speak, stopped, gestured vaguely to the asteroid, then threw a hand to point at the wreck behind them, "One of you sabotaged our transport," she growled, knowing her situation was chit, "No one knows where I am. Comms..." she trailed off, not seeing the point to finish.

She hated this moment. If there were a way to feel sick with an artificial stomach she had managed it. Hands went to the glass dome on her head, disengaging the seal then slipping the helmet off. Old-fashioned maybe, but she disliked being faceless while making a deal. Of all people to see her humble, it just had to be him.

"I am willing..." the words were like bile in her throat, "to agree to a truce. We share a transport. Don't kill each other. Never speak of the event again. What price?"

Helmet at her side she stood, albeit a bit crooked, and awaited his reply.

 

[Kaia Vullen]

KATARR
Val Erides: Ruins of a Miraluka Settlement.
Nica Dakkar

"Hey, you have something in your teeth!"

Kaia cartwheeled to the side to avoid the first volley, ducking, stepping, weaving out of the way of the shots as she whirled the flag around herself. One of the shots seemed to be on its way through, but somehow she reached out with her palm and stopped it, dispelling the energy in a flash of white mist - Or so it appeared to her eyeless sight.

“Catch me if you can!”

Bolts meant for killing involved a bigger risk, but they were easier to deal with when one knew the right application of tutaminis. Stun blasts were worse. They snuck up on you and their radius was bigger.

So, following the flash of green, Kaia somersaulted off the rear of the building. She purposely landed on the flag to really tread it into the mud, then dragged it behind her for a bit as she ran to the tree-line.

No doubt the legionnaires were right on her heels, but she had to leave some trail for them to follow.

Kaia knew these woods now.

This was where she had taken her Barash Vow, where she had isolated herself from all the goings on of the galaxy while she tried to get a grip of her fear; the visions from Telti still came to her, and other visions, bad dreams, bad thoughts, words spoken from a deep, dark place she did not want to go to.

She needed to find her purpose again, but for now, protecting this place would do.

For now.

“Your breath smells like bantha farts!”

She tossed the pole of the flag to the side and wrapped the cloth itself around her shoulders as she ran. She smiled, dimples deep and teeth on display.

For now.

 

[Nan'eth'illa]

Caedyn Arenais
Hidden blade, flight suit, Thermal detonator, lightsaber, Shade's cloak, some crazy weird cybernetics.

Ships were difficult to control when they were on fire, or so Nethil got to experience. The controls were unresponsive, the engines were shot, only momentum kept her from plummeting directly down. Inside, it was hot, filled with smoke, soon it would be too thick to see. Nethil had just stopped the spinning, gotten level. She was desperately looking out the viewport for something, anything.

She had been shot by anti-air, not a direct hit, but good enough.

There were ships galore, but they were not the real threat. No, the real threat was coming in a thousand times hotter. She had read about events like these wiping out entire species. Nethil did not intend to be wiped out any time soon. There had to be some escape. What had Csen'ai taught her? To fight, to hide, to watch. Csen'ai had been gone for a month now, no word, not even confirmation. She knew, deep down, she knew what happened on Bastion. It was hard to swallow, but she knew. As Nethil scanned the scene of crisis, she almost felt the hands of her Csen'ai, cupping her cheeks, directing her head: There.

A vessel descending from one of the Concord warships.

Nethil unclipped the lightsabre from her side, rolling it between her fingers. It might just work. Force, let it work. A cut through the glassteel made it shatter under the pressure, and the cybernetic assassin jumped out after the glass. It was far, not too far, but far. Around her, streaks of plasma roared through the air. She could hear screams all the way up here, but the loudest noise was the sound of the wind rushing past her ears, like the scream of Myrkr burning.

By habit she kept her presence in the force obfuscated: Hiding, always hiding. No matter their strength, they cannot fight what they cannot see. Be invisible, strike true, strike well.

She fell past the Vagabond like a black and blue piece of debris, then pushed her hands and feet out in front of her. The force roared as it dampened her fall, her cybernetic arm and leg still complained about the pressure when she landed on top of the descending transport. It was not easy to breathe, but Csen'ai's teachings let her master it. Not much longer, just a bit more. She needed to get inside.

Her eyes closed as she forced her mind into the belly of the machine; it was like dominating the mind of a beast made of metal, holding people in its belly.

"Open"

Through mechu deru, her speciality, Nethil commanded the beast to open

She had to stop this shuttle, turn it around and get out of here. She had to try.

 

[Mig Gred]

​

Dueling: Cara Dorniarn
Location: Outside the city, in the woods.
Units: 1st MIL Battalion "Netherhounds", 1st Armored Platoon "Wraith Division", Star Angles, Banshee Squadron (12 8-R Toscans), 2 Jai'galaar Bes'uliik
Gear: Lightsaber Trayc'kad, Echani Vibrosword given to him by Kat Decoria , Mandalorian amor, comms unit, Slick Anti-Acid Coat, Sith vibroknife, Nightbrother Fighting Knife, a pair of Taak'tabi, a pair of Hissing Ghosts

Mig gripped around the Trayc'kad's handle before slipping the weapon into it's back holder. When Cara mentioned that a Mandalorian had disabled her transport. He smiled a little at hearing a few of his people within The Sith Empire were still true to the Resol'nare. But Mig was soon caught off guard by an odd request. The Sith had removed her helmet, revealing her face, and calling for a truce. So both could live without the other trying to kill them for the time being. Mig looked, removing his own helmet to reveal his scarred face, his blue/green cybernetic left eye mismatching with the silvery right one. He looked her in the eye. Should he take this truce? He shook his head, sighing.

"Don't put a tracker on my ship, or take information from it, and don't give any information to the demagolkae (monsters), that you dar'jetii (sith) have and we'll consider it even." Mig then looked at the knife in his hand. "And I'm keeping this." It had just saved him after all. Soon enough, the silhouette of the Echo's Light passed above them, and soon began to lower. The ram opened, revealing a T8-series droid that started whistling at Mig.

"She's coming with use. We have a deal so don't hurt her." The utility droid whistled out angerly before rolling back in, while Mig quickly jumped on. "Come on. We better move."

Once Cara was inside, she would be face with what might be an odd surprise. The interior of the courier was less freighter and more... almost apartment like. As Mig walked up to talk to R10, Cara might would begin to notice some things around. A few toys, some that seemed like baby toys and others for a young child. This included a little doll with leather "armor." There was also a small holopic near on a small table, which seemed to include Mig's whole family.

"R10, just get us moving!" The ship would soon begin to get off the surface, attempting to leave the planet before the inevitable.

 

[Nica Dakkar]

Location: Ruins of Val Erides, Katarr
Objective: Plant flags and smile for the cameras.
Equipment: Heavy Blaster Pistol, Vibrocutlass, Service Dagger, Uniform
Writing With: Kaia Vullen

Sending the marines off in pursuit, Nica paused to give Ensign Shaall a dirty look before waving her sword at the crowd, the closest Miraluka pulling back with a startle. "Flag or no flag, as of this moment you are standing on Sith-Imperial soil. Behave like it."

Sheathing the archaic-looking blade, Nica paused to deliver a swift kick to the ensign's shin before setting off after her men.

The no-good wimp had better get back into commission soon, or she'd write up a scathing enough complaint to tank his commission.

Jogging lightly in pursuit, Nica knew all too well that the odds of catching the lightning-quick Miraluka were... not great. They would be much better, however, if they could keep track of the maybe-Jedi long enough for Captain Riskless of the Ill-Defined Chin to get some probe droids in the sky, a request which she was currently shouting into a communicator in the least diplomatic manner possible.

Safe to say, the comms officer would be putting her command on the fast-track, nervously sweating all the while.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Allies: Darth Carnifex Fiolette Raaf
Enemies: K Kaine Australis
Equipment: In signature, styled Medhir armor

It would forever be said that the Raaf family would curse the name Australis, that they would seek to wipe any that bore the sigil of the clan from the galaxy, to expunge their names from records, to reduce their crowning accomplishments to bitter failures. For their patriarch, however, that was still too good of a fate.

The Emperor had engaged him, to keep him in place as a favor to Taeli. It was a sign of their friendship and partnership that Carnfiex would do so, and she could feel their struggle, growing clearer and clearer as ysalamiri were killed by the Vong cadre brought along by the Emperor. Her own forces, the 173rd in their own Medhir armor, were assembled and had two objectives until the designated time: kill and capture as many of the Clan's forces as possible, and to keep Australis here, where retribution could be attained.

"Eloquently put, my love," she remarked quietly, her focus once again on the moving presence of Australis. Comms reported he was using subterfuge to try and escape, but for her senses and ability to read the currents of the Force, he could not hide. Amber-orange eyes took on a bloody glow as her lightsaber ignited. She had his presence locked in, she could follow his exact path through the currents...

"General Tarkin, make sure none of his ilk leave that forest alive," she ordered, the long-serving general of the 173rd snapped a salute and the legion began advancing into the forest, burning and blasting as they advanced to close off the escape. Turning to Fiolette, a small moment of apology crossing her face and voice. "This will be uncomfortable." Taking Fiolette's hand in her free one, she summoned the dark side to her and commanded it to move them. In a whirl of purple and black smoke, they were moved into the currents of the Force, traveling along the ethereal paths... she would need to make this appropriate.

In an explosion of smoke and mist, the darkness twining around several of the beings attempting to whisk their Alor to safety and throttling them, they rematerialized. Cloak billowing behind her, lightsaber at the ready, and a look that told the old Mandalorian exactly what was in store for him, the Raafs had come. No words, nothing but rage and focus.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

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Allies: Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf​

Opponents: K Kaine Australis​

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Fiolette had over the years grown accustomed to her wife's preferred method of transport. Even so, the discomfort did not, and could not outweigh the rage that burned beneath the Galidraani's exterior. He deserved no words, he deserved nothing but the blade that would bear the name of any who defended him. Whether it had been Fiolette's trip to the Netherworld or the fact that she would be bolstered by her sorcerer wife, the Warrior within drew her blade. While her features were concealed by her helmet there could be no mistaking that she had arrived to exact a toll owed to her family by Australis. ​

She wondered if he had any sort of backbone left, or if he would simply flee the field once more. If there could be one thing to be said of Fiolette that day, it was the vow - the Netherworld and an unholy sacrament that aided her. A sacrament that even Taeli was unaware of, but one that the Warrior made as to ensure that she could burn worlds in her son's name. ​

​

The blade she drew earlier and held with both hands ready to strike, glimmered with an unholy aura before returning to its normal status. The pact Fiolette had made while in the Netherworld was starting to show itself. ​

​

 

[Nida Perl]

ALLIES | Lark
ENEMIES | Kyra Perl | Thirdas Heavenshield

Lark’s shift came as a surprise. This is the monster? He’s…crying? She had expected a rampaging beast, not this sorrowful man. It hadn’t crossed her mind that two empaths in a highly emotional state could influence those around them-or perhaps this was the beast’s work.

“Listen to Lark, Kyra. Don’t walk away from this. We can be an honest family, this time.”

Kyra’s resistance was expected. She couldn’t imagine that her sister would understand right away—how could she, when it took Nida enough time to accept who and what she was? The younger Zeltron was stubborn and possessed an incredible willpower, which was why Nida felt the need to nudge her along subtly. Even if she failed here, if she could plant the seeds…her sister’s affection and attachment for her might germinate them into something incredible.

Because truly, deeply, she wanted her sister to join her. Even through her fall, she could forgive Kyra for being the spawn of the enemy. Her sister was ignorant and misguided, but she had done nothing wrong. Kyra had been an anchor for Nida since the day she was born. From the first time she’d crawled into Joza’s hospital bed to see the new baby, a bond had formed between the two.

And then, Kyra’s hand wrapped around her own and her heart sang for a moment. The touch of the light burned, but Nida preserved through it for her. It was the same energy she’d felt the moment an infant Kyra had wrapped the whole of her tiny hand around Nida’s index finger.

Suddenly, she was faced with Thirdas, his anger and heartbreak was palpable. It wasn’t so much the words he’d spoken as it was the look on his face. The scowl, directed to her. Never in all their time together had Thirdas looked at her like that—with rage, disappointment, and betrayal. He was a tender man, kindly and gentle, and Nida couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as he fought to protect Kyra.

But, the look he’d given her had shattered her heart. Tears slipped from the inner corners of her eyes as if they’d been frozen there for this exact moment, and Nida didn’t even know that they were there until one dripped from her chin to her hand.

He’d pulled her away as the city’s shielding shattered, deploying a shield big enough for the pair of them to huddle behind while being barraged by enemy fire. The retreat irritated Nida as much as the broken shielding, for she did not wish to be interrupted.

A grenade sailed through the air and she extended one hand, arching up on her tiptoes to form a bubble around the live device. It detonated, shattering the protective layer of the force in one go, but containing the explosion well enough. Nida’s arm dropped to the side and she covered her mouth with the sleeve of her robe, squinting through the smoke, trying to locate Kyra and Thirdas. She could feel them, but they’d moved.

“Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

The comm chatter in her ear pulled her back to the battlefield, and suddenly the blaster fire all around them became much more apparent. Her eyes narrowed, then went wide, head jerking upwards in time to see the ominous omen of an asteroid looming above the Myrkr skies.

"We need to evacuate!" She grabbed Lark's wrist, sure that he'd received the same message.

She gave a tentative, desperate glance back to where she'd seen Kyra and Thirdas run off. They were still here, and she traced along the invisible extension still running between her and Kyra to send out a warning.

Leave NOW!

 

[Inara Basai]

Location: Den Velmor
Objective: Assist with defense of the planet, evacuate civilians
Allies: Mathieu Brion , Palm-Imer , SJC
Enemies: Joycelyn Zambrano , Sith
Loadout:

Spoiler

-Combat Medic Armor
-Predator Assault Projectile Rifle loaded with Incendiary rounds and normal 10mm slugs

• Medical Backpack & Supplies
• Ranger's Field Pistol
• Cracken Combat Knife
• Tactical Teddy Bear!

Inara watched Mathieu as he sprinted back into the fight between Palm and the Sith woman. The ranger knew very little about the force, though she'd felt it a couple of times now – mostly when Mathieu was by her side. She knew his presence now, and she knew the healing power of the crystals in the Halls of Healing. That's how the light-side felt to her, it was benevolent.

And darkness, she'd experienced that on Onderon – she remembered it well.

It was this shadowy force she sensed around the Sith; the source of her frightening power. Now, as she held a palm out towards their silhouettes, could she also feel it emanating from Palm? No, it couldn't be. Perhaps it was just the tendrils of the Sith woman's presence, it was quite strong.

From her spot, she took a couple of breaths – and held one captive for a moment when Mathieu tackled the enemy. She leveled her rifle again, watching, tracking the movements of their opponent. She was indeed an imposing form, large and tall and intimidating. An easy target, had her friends not been sharing such close quarters. Inara's finger hesitated on the trigger, she didn't want to risk hurting one of her friends with an incendiary round. The last thing they needed right now was more fire – especially after the torrent that the Sith had unleashed, splitting the ground between Mathieu and Palm with flame.

But a static sound, a crackling drew her attention. The comm on her armband came to life; there were voices now. The heavy presence of the Sith had slowed them, but reinforcements were on their way – SJC and local Velmorian Rangers. Still, they'd need to hold the area until help did arrive. Unfortunately, there was no way to know just what they'd be up against when they got here.

The medic wanted to respond, to tell them where they were...

A buzzing sound made her head turn, and she was forced to fire on an incoming swarm. And if that wasn't enough, the ground beneath her feet trembled...

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Troop Transport, descending for the ground.
Personal Inventory: Caedyn's Jedi robes, Armistice Lightsaber.
Opponent: Nan'eth'illa

Caedyn stood within the troop transport further back towards the rear of the craft looking out through the small view-ports while further ahead within the cockpit, two pilots from "The Vagabond" guided the smaller vessel towards the surface with the intent of gaining a clearly indication of what the situation on the surface was looking like, and gauging how many civilians might need exfil to a safer location until the war had come to a close.

Thunk!

"What was that?" The primary Pilot asked.

"What, did we hit some debris? I didn't see anything?" The Co-Pilot answered.

Caedyn's gaze lifted to the roof of the Troop compartment, his expression tightening with the arrival of a Force Signature that he didn't recognize. "Get us to the surface quickly, we've got company..." The Jedi Knight instructed the pair firmly. Caedyn's hand reaching to unhook his Lightaber from his belt, hoping that he wouldn't be forced to use the weapon.

"Whatever happens, keep your eyes forwa-.." His words were cut short as the transport's side compartment door locking mechanisms gave way, opening the entrance to the ship without any form of activation from the inside and with it came a rush of wind from the outside, rocking the transport in it's descent for the surface.

"Stay the course!" Caedyn yelled over top of the rushing air filling the cabin, turning to look to the entrance in preparation for their new arrival, his lightsaber not yet activated, however in hand and at the ready should he be forced to draw upon it.

 

[Ruek Tast]

Location: Around a campfire
Interacting with: Open

- - -
​

"STOP EATING IT! Stop this instant you MONSTER!"

The Mon Calamari shouted toward the figure near the fire. Himself tied to a tree, the Jedi squirmed under the filament ropes that bound him. Squirming equally as much was a ysalamiri strapped to his chest, hissing and snapping as it wiggled for a chance at freedom.

The ghillie cloak rustled as Ruek turned her head, a look of annoyance on her face as she watched the Mon Calamari bark his demands.

She cut off another piece of the meat that had been roasting on the fire. After taking the bite from her knife's point she chewed then wagged the blade in thought, "You are acting very privileged for a prisoner of war."

"THAT'S MY LEG!"

She scoffed, "As if you could use it."

"You act like some...some animal! Can't you see this is wrong?!" He slammed his good leg against the tree trunk.

Ruek stuck the roasted calf back on the fire, "I am an animal, you are an animal--"

"SENTIENT BEINGS!"

"Meat. You're just walking, talking meat, so am I. Animals are walking, they do their own kind of talking, and eat one another."

Stunned at the gall of the woman the Jedi looked away. The bleeding of his leg had stopped due to the tourniquet Ruek placed. His foot had been left back where she'd captured him, left after she ambushed him from the bushes with a vibro-hatchet through the knee. A ysalamiri was unfortunate enough to be toted around on her back, used as a cloak to hide away from the Force while prowling for Jedi.

She turned back to the fire and searched her provisions. A cup, a small tin, and some water from the canteen.

This meal deserved a cup of tea.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Location: Hyllyard City
Interacting with: Ruek Tast , open

Mazrim Caide wanders through the dark woods, following his tracker. He had been sent to extract a valuable sniper from the area before the asteroid hit, the only descriptors he'd managed to garner about his target were the words 'skilled' and 'unstable'. Well, it wasn't as if those words didn't apply to him as well. As he gets closer, he begins to hear the murmuring of voices, and instinctually tunes in.

"THAT'S MY LEG!"

He raises a brow and wipes sweat off of his forehead, once again glad he had forgone his helmet. It was hot enough under his armor without the damn thing, and it obstructed his peripheral vision. Finally, he makes it to the clearing, and is greeted by the scene of a jedi tied to a tree and watching in horror and indignation as his captor eats his severed leg. Caide's wealth of experience keeps his face and voice passive as he speaks.

"Mrs. Ruek Tast , My name is Mazrim Caide. I'm here to assist you and ensure you make it to evac safely."

Glancing over the woman, he doubted she needed any help, and was starting to believe he had been sent here less as a savior and more as a handler. Leave it to the brass to give him yet another suicide mission. But, orders were orders.

 

[Ruek Tast]

Location: Around a campfire
Interacting with: Mazrim Caide/Taim

- - -​

Ruek had sacrificed esoteric enhancements to utilize what Myrkr had to offer. The risk had proved to be worthwhile, and while she missed the edge it was oddly peaceful without the Force.

That moment of pleasure was interrupted as the legionnaire tromped into the clearing.

As he spoke she whipped out a pistol and aimed for his chest, only to then exhale and shake her head, "I remember you... back in that downed cruiser, right? Bastion?"

"PLEASE, HELP ME!"

The pistol swapped hands and she fired a stun bolt at the Mon Calamari.

She looked back to Caide, "Tea?"

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

The hardened soldier shakes his head and sits by the fire, pulling out a ration bar.

"So, did you run out of ration bars? Or did you just feel like having some variety on your diet?"

The dry sarcasm in his voice is hard to miss as he munches on his ration bar.

 

[Nan'eth'illa]

Caedyn Arenais
Hidden blade, flight suit, Thermal detonator, lightsaber, Shade's cloak, some crazy weird cybernetics.

Success! The side door opened.

Normally, this would have been the time when she popped a grenade in there, perhaps cut her way through the ceiling and dropped down. No, she needed this ship intact and able to move. The detonator she had brought was not anti personell, it was a demolition variant. If she couldn't sneak in, she would have to take the front -or rather side- entrance. If only she had brought a flashbang.

Being shot at was to be expected, but she had lost her personal shield in the hubbub of escaping her own ship's crash.

Her mind focused, digging into the will to live as Csen'ai had taught her. Jumping off the side, she grabbed a corner ledge and swung herself inside, then put her hands up immediately.

"I would like to negotiate."

Nethil scanned the room, there were numerous Concord soldiers and -surprise, surprise- a jedi. Not just any Jedi; Sith-Imperial databases had recorded this face: Caedyn Arenais. His weapon was not drawn, and considering Nethil had yet to be shot, she took the chance to present her case.

"If you go down there, you will die. Everyone down there you could have saved will die with you."

The cybernetics implanted deep in her brain had made the calculations, the chances of escaping in time was a million to one. Though the presence of a Jedi was a real wild-card when it came to statistical analysis. The Force really threw all equations out of the window, but they didn't need to know that. And Nethil? Nethil was a really good liar. It was just the way she was raised, how Csen'ai had raised her. Though Csen'ai would probably have said to kill them all and take the ship for herself.

She had a point though. Nethil needed leverage, lest they just take her back to their mothership and hold her prisoner.

"Save the people in this vessel, that is all you can do."

As Nethil spoke, holding her hands up, she took a breath, seemingly calming herself, thinking about the tools on her belt and leverage.

 

[Ruek Tast]

Location: Around a campfire
Interacting with: Mazrim Caide/Taim

- - -​

She withdrew the cup into both hands then took a sip, shaking her head as she swallowed, "I removed his leg in an attempt to stop him. He was sprinting away from a battle which took place four klicks from here."

She took her knife and carved another chunk from the main dish. It was roasted and tender, having flesh similar to that of a cephalopod. It smelled like any marine animal cooked with a dash of subtly scented spices, ones not generally included in any legionnaire loadouts.

"If it were any other animal, a vornskr for example, it would have consumed the lost leg as a prize. A fish from the ocean or a talking fish from the ocean? Why bother with distinction?"

She offered him a slice of the meat, absolutely unbelieving that he'd take it, since humans were fidgety that way.

"And it is miss, not missus."