Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction Episode I: Shadows of The Mara Corridor | RNR & BSS Junction of Mara Mega Hex & Drogheda

If the abyss stares at you, don't blink

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@ Trajan Fett | Kyle Kyle Torchwood| Rhys Gorne Rhys Gorne Nero Drake Nero Drake
Obj II

Mission Entry:
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Damage Report!

As the news was coming in, I could see the flames, I could see the bodies, and that was in the void around us, let alone the bridge. We were hit hard by two explosive devices and were losing atmospheric controls, as well as propulsion was at half sublight at best. Deflector shields were at 28percent and dropping. Whoever was the cause for this was either a sniper, or the luckiest thug in the galaxy.

Get all survivors out of non-critical junction points. Even if it means overcrowding. Then shut down all non-essential systems and reroute power. Comms... I WANT COMMS! I was not yelling at them, but we needed to get a handle on the situation.
I want the Delta to move into a firing position, Beta and Charlie in to assist us the best way that they can.

We were sitting ducks.

(OOC NOTE - I was not intending on adding Rojuhr to this, but this was an interesting wrinkle to add to the story. That being said, I don't intend on rp'ing him in this regularly, but to add when and where it would fit the best. Feel free and target the ships if you like (There are four Loki Attack Cruisers total, the lead ship (Alpha) was the one hammered by the charges, and is quickly becoming a salvagers dream).

 
Yes, I AM my father's son, proud of it too.

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OBJECTIVE TWO: Battle of Stalgasin Hive
Suggested Characters: RNR Starfighter Corps, Senators, Black Sun Boarders, Pirates, CIS Ground Forces

Journal Entry:
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Son of a…

Torchwoood… “Torch”... Bravo 5 was right… this was coordinated. That meant that their plan was simple. It was time to complicate things. Comparatively speaking, the N-1 is not my X-wing, let alone an “off the line” production model. I am not saying that they are better, or worse, but different. That does not mean that I like flying themThe N-1's handling felt sluggish compared to the X-wing's precision. Its controls were unfamiliar, and the ship's quirks demanded constant attention. Still, it was a capable craft, and I had to make do. Adapting quickly was crucial—lives depended on it.

Like those of Rojuhr’s (He’s my Godfather, I can call him by his name), command.

Jamming the throttle forward and banking hard, I pitched hard into an attack run on the last position of the attacker. Problem is, the ship was lost amidst all of this wreckage.

Screw this.

Impulsive? Maybe.

Wreckless? I’ll accept that.

Necessary? Yes.

“BRED” load the torpedo tubes.

Arming the blaster cannons, I began targeting the debris. The attempt to take away their prizes, and their cover.

BOOOEEP BEEP

I saw him line us up. Hang on.

Apparently someone else had a similar idea, because as I dove around a Geonosian Hulk, he fired on it. We got a little cooked, but nothing more than a singe as some incendiary went off behind us. Unfortunately for this guy though, it put him in my gunsights.

My turn, Schutta!


Trajan Fett Trajan Fett Kyle Torchwood Kyle Torchwood KRONOS-555 KRONOS-555 Nero Drake Nero Drake (engaging atm)



 


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Objective 3: Ticket to Ride | Protection (BSS Mercenary)
Inventory: Apollonius Armor, Hanno's vibro-ax, Verpine Shatterpistol

The intercom pulled his attention suddenly, and further the sound of boarders striking the top of the train's hull. He thought better of attempting to interrupt the scuffle in front of him, ducking through the door he had emerged from to make his way to the outer corridors. A red ping on his HUD and a yell from just beyond his periphery provoked the most startling response. He had been ambushed.

A flash of blue light crashed into his armor from behind, throwing the mercenary forward against the metal diveted floor of the narrow track that flanked the car.

'Armor integrity holding,' the matrix repeated to him in his head.

A lightsaber. As he stood to face his robed opponent, several more boarders without lightsabers but blasters locked into the side of the car, firing their own salvos. Atius Hanno threw himself behind the next compartment door as the lasers burst through metal and wiring. Withdrawing his large shatterpistol, he peaked behind the door and allowed his HUD to do the rest. A ping followed by the silenced shot, and the only confirmation given to the mercenary was the scream of his target followed by a loud thud against the side of the train. There were more boarders, and he refused to let himself be bogged down.

Two more volleys struck his cover, the metal searing from heat-induced degradation. Another found purchase in the mercenary's shoulder, scorching the well forged armor he had arrived with. He ducked out again and fired several shots, unsure this time whether they had found flesh.

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, several BSS enforcers arrived to hold the train car. With that, Hanno was gone, traveling swiftly to meet the next boarding party on his own terms.

TAGS: Open
 
Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium
Drawing her own lightsaber as the purple blade ignited. Letting her presence announce itself as she spied that being at the front of the train.

OBJECTIVE THREE
TOP OF FRONT OF TRAIN


The jungle grew aggressively in this region, the train was long, and the track wasn't straight; Jerec had less than perfect visibility down the train. Enough to see descending Jedi, but not clearly enough to know he was seeing them all or to get a grip on them with the Force.

The train had a forward-facing turret. He hunkered down in its shelter and unlimbered his Z-type scan dart launcher. The wind whipped away both the dart and the soft 'chuff' sound of its deployment. He had a little HUD projector in his Ithorian comm headgear. Briefly, the passing dart showed the outlines of many people along the roof of the train, mostly descending through hatches.

The closest of those people was obvious even without the scan: a humanoid woman with a brilliant purple lightsaber, coming this way against the wind.

This would have been a spectacular moment to have packed a flamethrower. On the plus side, that Sacred Circle aristoshavvit had gifted Jerec with the next best thing.

He unclipped the beautiful electrum lightsaber, his only real weapon, and chucked it and its noble sky-blue blade at her knees.

The goal was twofold but straightforward enough: threaten her knees and/or maglock-rooted connection with the train, and get her underestimating the random Ithorian used car dealer, cowering in the turret's shelter, who'd just thrown a relic-grade lightsaber downwind with no finesse whatsoever.

Okay, threefold: keep her from getting the time and focus to realize that the used car dealer in question had a master's presence in the Force and skewed toward what the Jedi called the dark side. He wasn't hiding his presence, but he didn't want to broadcast it until necessary.
 
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“This is my watch. And I do not turn away.”
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TITLE
LOCATION
LOCATION



Code:
"Come on, let's get these carts covered quickly."

As if on cue, a huge, generally grumpy individual dropped out of what appeared to be open sky, but was a stealth transport that flew off. His “hero landing” created a small crater that rocked that section of the train, but did no damage otherwise. He stood up, dusting himself off as the transport vanished into the distance. The workers nearby stared in awe and confusion. Don't just stand there, he growled, his deep voice matching his imposing figure. The Force called me here, like some idiot sitting behind a computer who thought it would be a funny cameo to a story. There’s a job to do, and I didn't come here to admire the scenery.



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@Vizion Trozky @Rik Perris @Sera Rosh @Lossa Aureus @Rel Ahn-Dross Briana Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​
 


Objective 3 | Bastila Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren

Ducking behind another storage container, Kudau focused on lifting his second dagger from its holster. The blade quivered slightly from his stress, but he had to focus on the task at hand. The woman was strong; more adept in the force than he was. Best case scenario was that she was perhaps a Jedi like the ones he met on Naboo, but assuming such was far too big a risk to take. He had to subdue her, and seeing as she easily deflected his earlier attack, this would likely be the last time to try and catch her by surprise. He readied his dagger, but there it was again...

The presence was stronger, and it was only a few units away. Moving quietly, he got closer, figuring it couldn't hurt. It might even help him if he failed right now. He readied his dagger again, and moved from his cover to launch it.

However, when his eyes fell on the woman again, she was right on top of him again, ready to block his second dagger...

It seemed impossible to catch her off her guard. Just as he tried to distract her by launching the second dagger right to its doom at her saber, he looked towards the presence he had sensed. Surely it couldn't hurt to try and see if it could save him. He reached into the container and yanked the circular device from its place just as she was striking. As he flinched from her immanent strike, he heard another saber ignite...

 
The Template deflected blaster bolts back at the guards, intersplicing this with ropes of green electric judgement at the Black Sun Defenders.

The Template wasn't actually looking to kill if she didn't have to. But if it happened...it happened .

It happened soon enough. A bolt that had been deflected back on its source exploded the head of the shooter. A hissed spell from the Template made the deck plating warp around the legs of her attackers so they could neither flee nor retreat as she rushed them, brutally cutting into their weapons and knocking them out cold. They were Black Sun. And as compassionate as Magdalena normally tried to be, even she drew the line at known slavers. Jaws got broke.

She hissed a spell that warped the entrance to her cabin shut. This wasn't all of it, but it was a good chunk of it.

She focused and whispered older incantations that caused the metal deck plating to start warping part of it's interior into a spinning portal. It's exit? A predetermined spot in the jungle known only to RNR forces, specifically prepared beforehand.

She began dropping the hand sized relics into the portal, using old telekinetic magic to send debris over cabin entrances to block any more attackers, though it wouldn't hold for long against concentrated fire.

"Yoink..." The Template said, draining energy from the containment fields around Relics. They were all genuine. She could sense the Force in everything in this cabin.The Dark Side aligned ones, she destroyed upon sight. She pushed any light side aligned relic through the portal, stopping a moment to trace runes with her lightsaber that would break down possible explosives Black Sun operatives that came across her tried to spitefully hurl at the portal to stop her.

Sure, this risked drawing massive aggro, and would no doubt up their desperation, but Magdalena had survived much worse.

Plus, it would be an extraordinarily nasty surprise for any operative that tried to if they managed to get through her debris barrier...

Atius Hanno Atius Hanno

Rel Ahn-Dross Rel Ahn-Dross

K4-ZAN K4-ZAN

Bastila Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren

Briana Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren

Lossa Aureus Lossa Aureus

Vizion Trozky Vizion Trozky

Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor

Jerec Asyr Jerec Asyr

Kyle Torchwood Kyle Torchwood

Mauve Mauve




OPEN to fights/interactions


OOC: Assuming there are relics in more than one cabin
 
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KELDRA
ORBIT | GEONOSIS
TAG: Sibylla Abrantes Sibylla Abrantes | Annis Riyaré Annis Riyaré | Greel Thito Greel Thito | Kesh Hevro Kesh Hevro and any other Groundforces

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REQUIEM

Enough was enough.

Vemric had enough of the insects causing all sorts of problems with their little civil war. It all was starting to affect the Confederate production lines. Grell Noba Grell Noba had put in quite a few complaints of lines slowing down quite exponentially due to the war.

While technically it would be beneficial to work with the last remaining remnants of Stalgasin Hive and their less xenophobic ways, their Archduke not only managed to illicit Xazzex Xivar Xazzex Xivar 's cold ire during her diplomatic visit there at the best of the head insect, but he also managed to single handedly cause Vemric to order a full blockade of Geonosis. It took more than half the Royal Assembly to talk him down and recall the order. Jas Katis Jas Katis had lost it in their private meeting afterwards, raging about the placidity of their new allies. If only he had the Pureblood's ability to express emotions. Inside he felt exactly the same as his Supreme Commander.

The leash of this alliance was starting to really get on his nerves.

Vemric's tall, regal frame stood silently stewing on the Requiem as it hung in orbit, spearheading a large contingent of the Confederate Fleet. Even one of the new Lucrehulks, aptly named the Nimitz, had joined the line. If it wasn't for the Confederate factories below, he would have ordered a complete orbital bombardment on the planet. He had enough of these insectoids.

To sour his mood even further, the head pen pusher from the most recent corporation that has added their support to the Confederacy, had requested to accompany the CAF on this engagement - to "analyze what was still needed on the battlefield". What this Pantoran whished to see from orbit, the Sephi didn't know.

But he had to swallow his irritation - these corporations were unfortunately important to the Confederacy's survival.

"Mister Thito, though it is a risk, I trust you'll be able to assess better from this viewport." he told Greel Thito Greel Thito in his typical bored baritone. "However, if you should be told to move by anyone on this bridge, kindly do so without protest. It will reflect badly on the Confederacy as a whole should we lose a Corporate Representative in an active battle." He wasn't looking forward to another presence next to him in front of the viewport, yet he supposed it would benefit in the long run. If this man could add more and mass repair droids for the Army, it could only benefit in the long run. The more droids, the less organics he had to risk in bigger engagements. The contracted PMCs were costly, especially now. "Any prospect of expanding your Droidworks further in Confederate territory?" Small talk - how he abhorred it. Yet his face remained marble, the outer shell not giving any inkling of the stewing thoughts underneath.

"Sir, everyone is in formation and awaiting your orders." came Admiral Miles' soft statement from next to him when there came a lull in conversation.
"Excuse me, Mister Thito. Please, enjoy the fireworks."
The Sephi's already straight posture straightened even more as he turned to face the bridge.
"Have all Groundforces ready themselves for launch planetside. They'll be going in hot. All Ships of Line are to drill holes into the hives for our forces to drop into- turbolasers should do. The rest of our ships are to obliterate any Geonosian craft." His tone had gone from bored to aloof as he gave his orders. "And notify all CAF forces - no quarter. I will suffer this nation no longer."

The bridge had gone quiet for a moment. The weight of the last order settling on them. Miles knew that the Republic would surely come knocking if the Confederacy starts indiscriminately eradicating Geonosians. As annoying as the insectoids could be, they had their uses. Complete genocide was an entirely new kind of order from his long-time superior. He had the same thoughts on Umbara. Was it really up to him to say something? To course-correct the man that had paved Miles' entire career?

But to refuse in active battle was suicide.

"You all heard the orders! Hop to!" His stomach churned by saying that, yet what else could he alone do?
The bridge jumped out of their shock and bustled to relay orders correctly.
"A problem, Admiral?" The question was asked softly, yet the ice in it was unmistakable. To someone that didn't know him, however, he would still sound aloof, but a chill ran down Miles' spine. He had known this man most of his life. He was one of the last alive that knew him best.
He swallowed away the tightening of his throat. "Not a problem, Sir." he said hesitantly. "Just an observation. With the Republic involved in this engagement, don't you think it risky giving that order, Sir?"
Vemric's eyebrow shot into his hairline and Miles' heart sank. "I will make an exception for once, Admiral, and repeat what I said." The Sephi's voice was soft, yet held a shadow.

"I will suffer this nation no longer."
 
Ticket to Ride

Objective 3

In the passenger car directly behind the engine car, Mauve continued to lounge, slightly upset that the guard had yet to return with her wine.

There was also the sound of blasterfire from further down the tram she heard through the blare of high powered stringed instruments coming from the engine car.

Reassuring herself by patting a paddle-shaped object in her lap and reminding herself that yes she had indeed worn the spider silk dress today, Mauve continued to arrange and rearrange the three relics she had plucked from the rest.

Obviously they were stolen in the name of the Black Sun, but, well… what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

They sat on the table in front of her, in order, a lightless crystalline sphere, a purple-hued gemstone (obviously her favorite), and what appeared to the discerning eye - and her eye was quite that - to be some sort of Ssi-Ruu entechment based neckband that looked like it could be hooked up to larger devices. Like a big empty battery pack.

Mauve continued to study the relics, hoping that whatever was going on further down would be resolved quickly before they reached their destination.

The air smelled thickly of jasmine.

U40a U40a Magdalena Bloodscrawl Magdalena Bloodscrawl Lorn Reingard Lorn Reingard | Morex Morex | Bastila Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren | K4-ZAN K4-ZAN | Jerec Asyr Jerec Asyr | Atius Hanno Atius Hanno
 
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She began dropping the hand sized relics into the portal...

Objective 3

Euphortia bobbed its way past the devastation wrought by Magdalena Bloodscrawl Magdalena Bloodscrawl . Blunt force trauma aplenty, limbs embedded in warped deck plating, and at least one exploded head! If Euphortia's algorithms had permitted disgust or horror, it would have risked overheating. It was like a Vigo's tantrum in here.

Passing through a barricade gap that a human would have found innavigable, Euphortia wobbled into the relic chamber.

Beholding Magdalena, it began to play music, localized through its own powerful speakers, optimized for this compartment and its unique acoustics.

The track was similarly unique. At normal decibel levels, it qualified as a sonic torture device in twelve systems.

Underneath the bass, it was a One Sith battlefield recording of Hion the Herglic, Darth Orcus, shouting out an overpressure shockwave sufficient to burst walls and rooftops and pulverize bone.

It was not at normal decibel levels.

"HAUUUUUM—"
 
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GREEL THITO
ORBIT | GEONOSIS
TAG: Vemric Keldra Vemric Keldra

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Stepping forward at the invitation of Vemric Keldra Vemric Keldra , listening to the concern for what it felt like, a judgement. A snap one at that, but Greel didn't make it a point of taking such things personally - at least not the first time. Saying nothing Greel saddled up at the bridge viewport, flanking the Head of State. "To answer your question - Yes, we do intend to further expand, on Rothana first, standing up more production and repair space is my primary focus."

"Sir, if I may make a snap observation?"
Greel offered in a reverant tone. Not currently suffering from the intimidating presence of the man who stood a whole head above him. Not just in station but in height, the Confederate Head of State was to Greel as God is to a King in that moment. It was as if he had found a church in the wild.

Continuing only if he recieved permission. Making sure to wait for the opening commands to be issued, and only picking up his thought as the barrage began. The imposing force that was a fleet of ships coordinating fire, and it being fire in effect. The din of the massed shipborn weapons fire softly surrounded Greels remark to Vemric. "From after action reports - those that have been shared with me.-" He paused extremely briefly, hanging on to the fact that they have been stats shared with him. Not to elude to him having done corporate snooping. "-I would deduce casualty rates upon assualting entrenched positions, could see a multi-digit percent reduction. If you added flameprojector equiped units, to work as a force multiplier in these orbital assault formations." Greel finished, taking his first full breath since starting his recommendation, then, turnied his attention back to the ensuing preperatory barrage.

Offering a nod in respect for the tremendousness of the power being exerted onto the Genosians. Greel knew better than to start talking over his previous point. Let it sink in, let the prospective customer think it over, let them sell themselves. An old sales mentors words rattled around like memorized hutt ball plays. He worried his recommendation would be taken to be overly barbaric, but it was a strategy proven time and time again to be painfully effective. Then again, from what Greel could glean, it seemed as if there would be no sleep lost over the slaughter of this species.​
 

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Lieutenant Roman Vossari
Geonosian Ship | Geonosis
TAG: Ariadne Ariadne
GEAR: X | X | X | X | X

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Roman didn't flinch. He never did anymore. That was the whole point of Roman Vossari, no flinching, no blinking, just the long, slow grind of inevitability in a man-shaped container. But the sight of her, there in the flickering dark with that maddening posture, that smirk stitched from silk and malice, pulled something taut in his chest.

His jaw ticked once. Then again.

"You always perform like someone's watching," he said, voice low and sharp, like gravel scraped against durasteel. "But we both know you don't do anything without purpose. So let's cut the act, Ariadne."

He stepped into the room, rifle angled down but ready, always ready. His shadow spilled across the wall like something separate from him, hunched and furious.

"Who gave the order?" he asked, steel running under every syllable. "Who signed the contract? My father bled out in a prison cell, not a battlefield. You don't kill men like that unless someone wants a message sent."

His eyes never left her. Not her lips. Not her hips. Just the space between her hands, where the plasma blade hummed in that careless lull, like a sleeping serpent.

"You took the shot. I want the name." His breath hitched just enough to betray the thing he'd been swallowing since Serenno.

Then the voice hardened, colder than a Serennoan winter. "And after that... I want my revenge. You don't get to vanish. Not after him. Not after me."

A pause. The rifle came up, just slightly. Enough to make the next few seconds a coin toss.

"You can give me the name now, or I can carve it out of your spine later."
 

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Geonosis: Surface
GEAR
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OBJECTIVE TWO: Battle of Stalgasin Hive



The droid known as D-M0N watched through a wireless link the actions of the battle droids currently under his command. He was not technically a commander; he was only a sergeant rank due to his newness of only recently being built. He was, however, a Special Operator. He had simply linked to a group of B1 droids to issue commands. It was simply easier and faster that way. He had the battle droids maneuver and chase a group of the rebel Geonosians straight to where he was waiting in one of the mountain caves.

The insectoids rushed towards him, believing him to be the safer option as opposed to the army behind them. They were wrong. A large cannon folded out from his shoulder and assembled itself within nanoseconds; it began rapidly firing upon the Geonosian group, ripping them to shreds. Any who managed to dodge or escape that were met with wrist blasters, until only one was purposefully left alive.

D-M0N pretended to be distracted by the approaching B1 droids. The bug bought the ploy and bolted past him, deeper into the cave network. D-M0N allowed him to get a decent distance, just at the edge of his dart range. He fired, hitting the creature in their equivalent of the back of the thigh. He heard the insectoid groan and thump, then jump up and continue flying. He would believe he had barely gotten away with his life.

The truth was that the dart had been a tracker, and D-M0N was using the bug to lead him to the Hive.

 

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F E T T
BOUNTY HUNTER
PERSONA NON GRATA
CONTRACT | BLACK SUN
ENGAGING | Kyle Torchwood Kyle Torchwood
THE BASTARD

BLACK SUN | Jek Raynar Jek Raynar | KRONOS-555 KRONOS-555
NABOO | Rhys Gorne Rhys Gorne | Michael Angellus Michael Angellus
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MATTER OF LEGACY

Trajan hardly valued much of anything for the yield from these Geonosian vessels. That was not his modus operandi. He was a hunter, a killer. The Black Sun hired him to protect and assist their salvage detail and while the implication might've been that he'd board the hulks shambling in dead orbit of Geonosis...he was hardly going to remove himself from the control yoke of the Bastard and place both his own person and vessel at risk.

Whilst the greatest aces in twin-ion or 'rebel wing' fighters were known to have such intimate comfortability with their chosen vessel, he had his with this particular Prowler. It was his means of hunting and interdiction in orbit as much as it was his own mobile abode. The first acquisition of any use he'd made following his end of service as a Scout Trooper of the Empire. Gifted by the Alor of Clan Fett herself. An investment in future hunts and one that had paid dividends in spades.

He whipped the Prowler back unto the main field, a target lock painted on several of the N1s sifting through the debris field. His gloved finger squeezed down unto the trigger and wailing, rapid shriek of particle beams hailed over them, exploding small chunks of metal wreckage into horrific bursts of shrapnel and metal which would inevitably collide with the other ships. He was able to keep one of the Naboo starfighters on a target lock, the ordnance launcher's indicator alight with a rhythmic chirp before he slipped his thumb under the red cover and pressed it down to send a pair of concussion missiles toward the vessel on a tight track. The choice made in payload so in that if he missed, he'd shatter another rolling hulk and make the space that more difficult to traverse.

His hand then slammed the sublight thrusters to bring his vessel closer to the formation of Naboo starfighters, aiming to launch another seismic charge to break the squadron integrity of those he didn't catch in the blast.
 

Jek's Vaksai punched out of hyperspace with a groan that rattled through the hull. The stars stretched, snapped, and there it was Geonosis, a dusty slagball of a world hanging ugly against the black. Around it drifted twisted hunks of metal—wrecked colony ships, slagged carriers, a floating graveyard ripe for picking.

Behind him, two AEG-77 "Vigo" gunships and a pair of Rihkxyrks fell into formation, no real discipline, just the loose pack swagger of criminals with too many kills and not enough patience. Half of Switch's crew were already prepping to drop onto the husks below—salvagers, slicers, and stripped-down muscle with tools that doubled as weapons. The other half? They rode with Jek, ready to blast anything that so much as blinked at them wrong.

"Raynar, you up?" came the voice over comms, sharp and thick with static and spice smoke.

"I'm breathin', ain't I?" Jek snapped, thumbing a switch. "Field's cold. Just metal carcasses floatin' out here… 'til somethin' farts and ruins our day."

A moment later, his scope lit up.

Fast. Sleek. Clean.

"Aw, piss," he muttered. "We got goddamn Naboo N-1s inbound. Chrome karkers, Mov'in fast as hell. Must think we're just pirates—just pirates heheh."

"Thought this was a ghost job," one of the Rihkxyrk pilots groaned. "Didn't sign up to dogfight parade ships."

"You signed up to get that fat bonus," Jek growled. "They wanna dance, we break their teeth. Keep it tight, keep it dirty. We came to get paid, not play tag with pretty flyboys."

Another pilot laughed, static crackling. "Hope they scream nice when they burn."

Jek sneered, powering weapons hot. His knuckles cracked on the stick.
"Lets carbon flush these morons! Follow my lead and begin formation!"

By the Celestials. I love my job.

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For The Love Of The Game

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| Location | Train, Monastery
| Objective | III - Ticket to Ride

The Thyrsian enforcer had his arms crossed over his chest, positioned by the door against the metal interior. His gaze shifted over to the droid that accompanied him on guard duty. The Syndicate had acquired some rather pricey and precious cargo, and as expected it would need to be safely delivered, and had decided they be put on the same task after their performance on Lexrul. Morex grunted in response, his tone dripped in sarcasm as he gestured with his hand, "It comes with being good at your job. You'll get it someday boltbrain."
The enforcer uncrossed his arms as the sounds of combat started to raise in the train cars, his hands moving to rest on his belt as he glanced towards the door, pushing himself off the wall as he shifted his position. Scattered bursts of static as well as shouts over the comm as a group of lower-level thugs alerted them to trouble on the train coming their way. "That's our cue."
A loud series of cracks were heard as the Thyrsian moved to crack their knuckles before he punched one fist into an open palm, shifting his head left and right as he loosened himself up for the beating that was about to come. He stood next to the droid as they entered into the next car over, his expressionless gaze fixated on the figure standing above the bodies of the other guards.
"Who the fuck is this guy supposed to be?"

K4-ZAN K4-ZAN | Lorn Reingard Lorn Reingard | Bastila Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren

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