Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Work In Progress Doing These DIV Thingies


{ Gwyneira }{ Krayt }

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HISTORY_HERE

[[[[Thank you to Zlova Rue Zlova Rue for the template!]]]
 
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She stood under the shower. A hot shower. This should feel nice, calm, soothing after all she had endured. Yet, she found no joy. Steam swirled as she heavily breathed out, resting her forehead against the cold, durasteel wall. She reached up with a four digit hand and wiped a small amount of steam and water off the wall, revealing the blurred reflection of her face against the smudged metal. She breathed again. More steam. Two amber eyes, unfamiliar and foreign stared back at her.

"So I'm back here again."

Her voice was far from weak or somber. If there was grief, it was hardened in bitterness and rage.


"I'm back here again. I'm alone again." She breathed. More steam swirled around her as she leaned against the wall, unable to support herself. "But never again."

As water slipped down the wall, starting to cover her face in the steel mirror again, she narrowed those unfamiliar eyes she would claim as her own, "I am Mando'ade. I have a duty. No Sith, no exceptions."

She still felt the phantom limb, water dripping down its non-existant mass. "I will protect everything I have left. I will learn whatever skill, knowledge, and power is needed to protect my buir. No weakness, no exceptions."

She hissed, seething as her eyes were hidden from her sight, water droplets covering it and steam whirling. She was a monster now, and her own flesh and blood was the blame for it. "If I was born for misery, I will drag the rest of the galaxy down with me. If my father saw me as an abomination, that is what I'll be. Kark morality, I don't care. I only care for myself. I'll be selfish. No mercy, no exceptions."



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F O U R - M O N T H S - E A R L I E R

The loud hum of the floating bed gave her a headache. Blinding white light practically blinded her. She could seldom make out any shapes at all. Mechanical beeping blared. Voices were nothing but random gibberish to her. She struggled to keep her eyes open as the bed she was chained to moved down the hallway, guarded and secure.

Where?...

Eventually the bed jostled, announcing her stop. The sound of a door hissing open was far away from her perception. They went through the doorway, into a larger room. The lights still blinded her. Oh, this headache. A robed man stood in front of her. He scoffed. That voice was... familiar...

His voice was familiar, but she was unable to decipher the words. The tone was belittling and spiteful, and it made her shiver. The bed began to move again, and she was bewildered.

Where am I? How did I get here? Why did that man sound like my father? Where's Kranak? Eliz? What...

The questions kept rolling on and on in her mind as she faded into unconsciousness.




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S H A T T E R I N G

 


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She first processed the machinery beeping and blaring. Tick tock, mechanical parts whirled and she struggled to fight the headache. Eyes winced shut, she was unable to smell much of anything as she tried to hear anything else. She could feel that she was bound by her arms, legs, and waist to an uncomfortable metal table. The cold was biting, and the only form of warmth was the thin, loose gown wrapped around her body.

She opened her eyes.

She winced at the light pounding into her eyes, shutting her eyelids once more. She moaned before slowly opening her eyes again, looking up to many lamps, medical equipment, and other strange objects crowding her, looming over her. She tried to move her head from a needle that was making her claustrophobic, but she realized her head was bound as well. The metal cuffs and bands clung to her, squeezing her against the table. Wherever her eyes darted, only more equipment and lights. She started panting, breaking out into a cold sweat.

"Ah, you are finally awake."

No... No. That-that could not be...

Father?

"Greetings, Gwyneira. Welcome to my workplace."

Her eyes fluttered towards the direction of the voice. She could faintly see the tall Arkanian through her peripheral vision.

"After all this time, I finally found you," He paused for a moment before bitterly muttering, "My greatest mistake."

That stung. Gwyn had been called worse by her father, but this still stung. She closed her eyes, heart beating rapidly in her chest. He continued to speak, "I finally got to it, half breed. I finally am doing what I should have done all along. I am fixing the errors and cleaning the mistakes. You, girl, will suffer immeasurably before you finally die. Just as you deserve."

Panic was causing her to shake, panting. What was going to happen to her? What did he have planned? After everything she had been through, had she suffered enough? Apparently not, as his footsteps echoed around the room as he walked around the equipment. "First off, I will need to collect your tainted DNA."

She opened her eyes, trying to look around for what was happening. Alas, chained to the table, she only could hear him tapping some buttons on a machine, "Your leg will do nicely."

The sound of a buzzsaw being tested was terrible, but the wind just above her ankle was even worse. Tears flooded her eyes as he spoke.

"No anesthetics. You will feel everything, Gwyneira Craft."
 


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She panted heavily, sweat dripping down her pale face. She had screamed so much. Crying out for Eliz, though she knew he was dead. Calling for Kranak, though she knew he would not hear her. At last the inflictions were over, but her body trembled in agony. She winced as voices swirled around her. These blinding lights were becoming all she knew. In the distance, she heard two clearer voices.

"Vial seven point eighteen is ready. He really went all out on the test subject, did he not?"

"Arkanian offshots and hybrids deserve just as much. Oh, you can set it right over there."

"There we go. Yes, I agree that the genetic imperfections are abominable. But we found methods of use for even these..."

"Indeed. Now, take vial eleven point six and put it into the syringe."

"He told us to test it now?"

"Indeed. And monitor the results overnight."

"No rest for this weary soul. I almost pity the creature."

"Feel no pity. If we cannot test these on genetically similar creatures to our own great race, how will we release these medications to the public?"

"Indeed. We need test subjects better than animals. But only by a little. Here, it is ready."

"Good, good. Prepare the needle."


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Hours passed with little sleep. The burning in her veins never stopped. Whatever this injection was, it hurt. Oh, it hurt so much...

She lay on the table, shakily breathing in and out. She was not being tortured, but she was still in terrible pain. Apparently, she deserved this. Simply for existing.
 


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A F T E R - F O U R - M O N T H S - O F - S U F F E R I N G


She wanted out. Desperately.

How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years? How long of being chained to this same table, performed test after test on? At first, it was mostly testing new drugs and equipment. Not to mention, everything done to her eyes. And further genetic splicing. What had they done to her?

Then, the expiraments were expanded upon.

Bound in wires, cybernetics, and monitored. She was tortured. Just tortured. Electricity, serums, beatings. All to see exactly what her body was going through and how much she could take. From what she could gather from the chatter of the scientists, it was because she was close enough to Arkanians biologically to test these things, but was not Arkanian enough to be treated like a person. On top of this, being a trained Mandalorian warrior meant she had the physicality to not crumple like paper when afflicted.

Despite the tests, these were the few times she was not on her medical table. At least she was moving, and that was a small relief. Sometimes, she fought when being chained to the table again. Most times, she lacked the energy to do anything but plead for nonexistent mercy.

Yet, being moved around the room more meant she could actually figure out some of where she was. As much as her father denied she was Arkanian, she indeed carried the intelligence of her father's species. She was able to deduce that she was in space. From the way the star patterns moved from day to day between, she could gather that the structure was moving as well. She was still unable to figure out, however, whether this was a ship or mobile space station. However, she did know this was an underground Arkanian operation, as this sort of stuff was made illegal by the Galactic Alliance, where Arkania was located. So, she was on a moving space structure somewhere in space.

Well, at least she knew something now. And that was something. Could she escape like this?

She was currently on another escort, passing the long window where she once again gazed upon the spanning abyss of space. The spanning freedom. She frowned, wishing and hoping for that freedom. She slowed, wishing to prolong the view so close to a neutron star. Of course. she was only shoved with the butt of a blaster rifle and told to keep moving.

Was the Enclave looking for her? Was Kranak Vizsla looking for her? Her buir? Or would he be disappointed that she let herself get captured and leave her?

The thought was daunting and damning, yet she was able to convince herself otherwise. No. Kranak Vizsla had adopted her, made her his foundling. He was her Buir, her father! Her true father. Not like the Arkanian scientist who always had ignored, disowned, or now actively experimented on her.

The doors to the next room slid open. Inside, she saw that dark father speaking to another scientist. She scowled as she laid eyes on the evil man.

"Gwyneira Craft."

Ah, yet another way of insulting her. She realized, that by calling her Craft, not Krayt, he was once again attacking her. As opposed to a proud Mandalorian of a warrior clan, she was treated as a nobody. Ah, yes, Clan Krayt. She had joined the clan with her late love, Jac'Eli'Zirem Krayt, whom she missed dreadfully. Her other tie to the clan was her Alor, Shai Krayt. The energetic, snarky wardog was a ferocious fighter and mother. What would she think of Gwyn now? A pathetic lab rat. Would she be disappointed in her? Angry? Declare Gwyneira unworthy of being a member of the clan? Would she be ostracized again?

Would she be disowned? Like her father, standing before her, had disowned her many times?

She met his apathetic glare with defiance, "Okay, what father-daughter activities are we doing today?"

The man frowned. His white robe twirled as he turned to face her. Oh, she had made him angry. She smirked. Despite everything, she knew was going to hurt today regardless. Might as well kark off the man while it all happened.

"In fact," He sputtered, "We are playing a wonderful little game of dodge the electrostavs..."
 


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My face?

Gwyn felt her spine shiver from bottom to top. Some Mandalorians followed The Way as opposed to the Resol'nare. Her rival Jenn Kryze was a solid example. Gwyneira, however, was a bit more relaxed. Though, her helmet was indeed significant. She always wore her buy'ce in battle. Still, this was not a battle.

Her equipment made her appear larger than she was, like a tooka raising its shackles. And really, that was what it was. However, seeing those familiar claws, and the senator calling herself "hybrid." Gwyn wondered, if it was simply one Arkanian abomination to another, sharing in the loneliness of the half blood curse. She sighed, stepping deeper into the room and approaching the desk.

<"Sure, but I..."> Memories flashed before her eyes. Needless, flashing lights, splicers, screws, pain. So much pain. Loud medical beeping. Screaming. She looked away, frowning beneath her visor as she whispered, "<I don't look like what I used to... anymore...">

She pulled her rifle off, leaning her personal weapon against the desk with a small thump against the desk. She reached up and placed her hands against her buy'ce. Her buy'ce was especially valuable to her, as it was made with beskar from her buir's own beskar'gam. She always prized it, keeping it close. Many times, she did not want to remove it. It was too precious to her. Yet, the request had been made. Gwyn gently lifted the helmet from her head. Long, flowing white hair was unfurled, falling down her back and over her shoulders. For a moment, her eyes were closed. Then, she opened them. A prickle of shame flooded her as her eyes started adjusting to the dark.

Where the whites of her eyes were, it was red as if permanently puffy and irritated. Her pupils, which just seemed strangely unnatural, were amber. In the dark even, they glowed as her newfound infrered instincts kicked in. The headache immediately was on, sharp and throbbing with intensity. She hissed, dropping her buy'ce on the desk as she lifted her hands to her head. Oh, these headaches again... a side effect of what her father had done to her.

She grimaced, struggling as the pain persisted for several more moments. "S-sorry! Hea-d... ache."

After what felt like forever, but was more likely several seconds, the pain subdued along with the infrared that had involuntary activated. She sighed, pulling a seat out and collapsing into it. She opened her eyes again, looking to the senator. Gwyn's dreadfully pale skin was a stark contrast to her black armor. She pulled her buy'ce closer to herself, lowering one hand beneath the table and resting it upon one of her pistols. Just in case.

"So, you're half Arkanian yourself? Is that why you wanted to see me?"
 

{ Aoki }{ Mira }


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    L E G A L - N A M E
    A O K I - M I R A

    K N O W N - A L I A S E S
    M I R A - A O K I

    A F F I L I A T I O N (S)

    R E S I D E N C E (S)
    K E S T R I

    P R O F E S S I O N
    F O U N D L I N G

    R A N K
    F O U N D L I N G | A P P R E N T I C E


    H O M E W O R L D
    U N S P E C I F I E D

    S P E C I E S
    A T R I S I A N - M I R I A L A N - H Y B R I D

    A G E
    1 4

    S E X
    F E M A L E

    H E I G H T
    4 ' 9 - I N C H E S

    W E I G H T
    9 8 - I B S

    C O L O R, H A I R
    B L A C K

    C O L O R, E Y E S
    B R O W N

    C O L O R, S K I N
    G R E E N

    F O R C E - S E N S I T I V E
    Y E S




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    +
    Disciplined.

    +
    Trained in Atrisian martial arts.

    +
    Trained in the basics of the Force and Shii-Cho.

    +/-
    Serious and reserved.

    -
    Vengeful.

    -
    Tempted by the Dark Side.



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    :// KNOWN ASSOCIATES...
    G W Y N E I R A - K R A Y T | B U I R


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    Atrisian Unarmed Martial Arts: Average.

    Atrisian Swordsmanship: Average.

    Shii-Cho: Basic.




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    Force Sense: Basic.

    Telepathy: Basic.

    Augmentation: Basic.



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    Mandalorian Enclave Currency:

    Standard Tokens:
    • TBA ~ 0
    • TBA: 0
    • Total: 0

    Crimson Tokens:
    • N/A


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    ◆​
    Father's lightsaber.


    Father's Sword.


    ◆​
    TBA




    ◆​
    placeholder










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T h o r a
M i t h ' o r a ' h i s b a h

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  • Age: 21.
    Gender: Female.
    Species: Chiss.
    Loyalties: The Eternal Empire; the Wardens of thr Shroud; The Galactic Alliance.
    Rankings: Warden Initiate; Apprentice.
    Height: 5'5 inches.
    Weight: 115 ibs.
    Eye Color: Red.
    Hair Color: Black.
    Skin Tone: Blue.
    Force Sensitive: Yes.


  • [+] Calculating: Like many of the Chiss, Thora maintains a calm and cool demeanor, assesing her situation before jumping in. She has the potential of a solid strategic mastermind.
    [+] Basic Training: During her time in the Jedi Order of the Galactic Alliance, Thora learned the basics of the Force and martial arts needed for a Force User.
    [+] Disciplined: Despite her youth, the combination of Chiss culture and Jedi training has cemented responsibility and maturity in Thora far surpassing her years.

    [+/-] Cold: Thora is not only calculating, but cold. She can turn her emotions off to complete a task she believes is important.
    [+/-] Upright: Thora is stuck in her ways and can be stubborn in the face of opposition. She is not confrontational, but she is absolute.
    [+/-] Vanity: Thora indulges in her looks, keeping a strict and uptight yet beautiful appearance in public. She cares deeply for looking professional, as well as for looking pretty to the eye.

    [-] Extremist: Thora believes that the only way to achieve peace and harmony in the galaxy is to crush freedom and dissolve free will. She believes in totalitarianism and authoritarianism. Any threats to the peace she seeks will be met with upmost opposition.
    [-] "Blast! This is why I hate flying!": It may be a silly fear, but a big one. Thora loathes flying in starcraft. She used ships as transportation, but refuses to get involved in combat in the skies.


  • M a r t i a l - A r t s :
    • F o r m - I - S h i i - C h o: [ III III III III]
    • F o r m - I I - M a k a s h i : [ III III III III]
    • T e r a s - K a s i : [ III III III III]
    • T B A : [ III III III III]

    V o c a t i o n a l :
    • T B A : [ III III III III]
    • T B A : [ III III III III]

    P r a c t i c a l :
    • S u r v i v a l : [ III III III III]
    • T B A : [ III III III III]
    • T B A : [ III III III III]


  • S e n s e : [ III III III III ]
    T e l e k i n e s i s : [
    III III III III ]
    A u g m e n t a t i o n : [
    III III III III ]
    M i n d - T r i c k : [
    III III III III ]
    T B A : [ III III III III ]


    • W I P

    • W I P


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H i s t o r y

Mith'ora'hisbah was twelve years old, a normal girl in an unimpressive Chiss family with no recognizable deeds or power. She had lived a simple like, at least until the Brotherhood of the Maw attacked and laid siege to Chiss Space. The girl lost her home, her family, everything to the Maw. She was counted lucky when she was discovered as Force Sensitive by the Jedi fighting the Maw and shipped to Galactic Alliance space.

She was trained to be a padawan, but as a youngling training in the secluded Temples Thora was uncertain. The Jedi had failed to stop the Maw, nothing had stopped it. In fact, the Jedi and Sith were so locked up in a pattern of eternal conflict and turmoil. For thousands of years, this great battle raged on, destroying lives and ruining whole systems the way her own life had been ravaged.

After training some bit under the Jedi, gaining a basic level of skill in the Force and the lightsaber, she defected from the Order before even becoming a Padawan. She had no idea what she wanted to do to stop all the pain in the galaxy, but she knew these so called peace keepers were not able to.

Her searching eventually brought her to the Eternal Empire...

 
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Aoki Mira, or Mira Lettee Aoki.
Imperial Knight of the Empire.
Michael Barran's Shadow.






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Snap!

A wave of Force energy, destructive and violent like a tornado, expanded outwards and shredded into the Maw mobs. Three monsters fell back from the force of the attack, onto the obsidian ground. As the demons writhed, too damaged to try and get up, the caster lowered her hand. The masked samurai's eyes were dull and unimpressed.

The Click Waves Lord Barran cast were far deadlier than this. They are incapacitated, but not dead.

With steady, calculated movements, she reached for the naginata on her back. More focus next time should do it.

In a flash of speed, the naginata had been drawn and the monsters finished off. Now, the Shadow stood alone, surrounded by Mountains of Maw abomination corpses. She looked up, still holding her pole-arm, and looked into the dark halls of the Citadel. Sweat beads dotted her entire body, beneath her armor and mask. With a small grunt of effort, she approached the long Sith Citadel.

The more she explored the complex, the closer she sensed Michael Barran's presence here. He too was attacking the citadel, though they had been separated on the way in. Through the comlink, Aoki spoke.

<<"My Lord, I can sense your location. I will meet with you as soon as I-">> A large creature turned the corner on her. Mira only paused for a moment, then finished as if she had not stopped at all, <<"-can.">>

The creature towered over her, WIP



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Equipment:
 
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OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

CORPORATION INFORMATION
  • Corporation Name: (Straight forward. What's the corporation called?)
  • Headquarters: Tor Valum, Kestri.
  • Locations: Tor Valum.
  • Operations: Weapons manufacturing; engineering; vehicle manufacturing; artistry; shipbuilding.
  • Parent Corporation: tba
  • Subsidiaries: N/A.

DESCRIPTION
tba


RATIONALE
TBA

 
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  • Name: Aoki Mira.
    Species: Mirialan-Atrisian Hybrid.
    Age: 19.
    Sex: Female.
    Eye Color: Blue.
    Hair Color: Black.
    Skin Tone: Green.
    MBTI Personality:
    Big Five Personality:
    RICAD.
    Faction: The New Imperial Order.
    Rank: Imperial Knight Square.
    Force Sensitive: Yes.

  • + Calm and Disciplined.
    + Trained Martial Artist.
    + Agile and Lean.
    + Compassionate.
    +/- Serious.
    +/- Quiet Type.
    +/- Gentle.
    +/- Long Memory.
    - Inexperienced and Naive.
    - Sensitive.
    - Grieving Loss.
    - Control Freak.

    • Atrisian Unarmed Martial Arts: Average.
    • Atrisian Swordmanship: Average.
    • Atrisian Archery: Average.
    • Form I, Shii-Cho: Basic.
    • Form II, Makashi: Basic.
    • Form III, Soresu: Basic.
    • Form IV, Ataru: Basic.

    • Force Sense: Basic.
    • Force Augmentation: Average.
    • Telekinesis: Average.

  • TBA



Aoki Mira as a child.

Mira cannot remember her mother. The Mirialan woman had been killed by bandits when the child was only a couple years old. Her entire life, Mira was raised by her father, an Atrisian who went by the surname Aoki. The man frequently left their home in her earlier life, leaving her with her aunt and uncle on a remote planet as he set out on his job, which required a lot of travel. Eventually, he explained just what he was doing to the then six year old girl. Aoki, in fact, had once been a member of the Jedi Order, a Jedi Knight. However, he was jaded and weary of their never ending cycle of war in the galaxy and left to find his own path. Still loosely following the Jedi Code, he travelled the galaxy taking out criminals in a justice he believed was swifter and more secure than the Jedi's.

He became overjoyed when Mira voiced her desire to go down that same path. Aoki started training her rigorously in Atrisian Martial Arts, for years. When he was gone, she was taught by her uncle. According to Aoki, she needed to master the martial arts of her people before moving on to Jedi martial arts.

Sadly, when she was fourteen, a tragedy she could barely remember took her aunt and uncle. Some kind of war, or attack, or something. She cannot recall, though her father had. After this point, he took her on his ship and they flew into the Unknown Regions to seek temporary refuge. He wanted to train Aoki fully before setting out to fight crime again.

For another five years, in isolation, he taught her to perfect the martial arts she grew up in. Furthermore, he also started slowly training her in the lightsaber forms and how to use the Force. As much as he wanted more time, however, after hearing enough about the outside galaxy and the escalation of war and death at the hands of the Brotherhood Of The Maw, he reluctantly started taking Mira out on his missions of peace keeping - through force, of course.

It would be further unfortunate that during the first several months out there, their ship was ambushed by pirates and crashed. On the surface of an unfamiliar planet, Mira was too dazed to act as her injured father fought valiantly... but fell in defense of his daughter. Once again, memory eludes her on how she survived. She only remembers the agony of losing her mentor, friend, and father...

She was alone now, only with his philosophies and training to carry her on.
 
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I R O N ~ H E A R T ~ F O R G E W O R K S

Situated on Kestri, in its capital city of Tor Valum; Iron Heart Forgeworks is very Mandalorian in its culture and products. It has an entire selection of products only available to Mandalorians, especially amongst the Enclave. However, it does not serve the heretical "Mandalorians" of the Brotherhood of the Maw.

There is also a selection of products made for the general galactic public. These products, however, are far "tamer" than Mandalorian goods. Furthermore, precious materials of the Mandalorians are off limits. There is a line of civilian products meant for self defense, as Gwyneira personally remembers the terror of being an innocent civilian caught up in a war she does not understand. The Iron Heart Forgeworks does not serve The Brotherhood of the Maw, Bryn, Sith, or other dark side affiliated parties like the Sith.

The company is careful to get ethically sourced materials for its products, as the CEO is against slavery and cruel labor.

Members of the Mandalorian Enclave only have the option to spend Enclave Faction Currency for custom made projects.


C A T A L O G :

Weapons:


Technology:
  • The Iron Heart's Will I.H.W. Slicer Key - A top notch slicer key capable of bypassing even the advanced security measures of the galaxy's technological superpowers. [Closed Market, but open for anyone to purchase.]

Ships:

 
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