Focus on the Vision [Galactic Alliance Dominion of Fondor]

[Sarge Potteiger]

Location: Leviathan, Fondor Orbit
Objective: Nostalgia

Objective List:

Spoiler

Objective #1 [Military]: Fondor was the capital of the Protectorate, and is home to the OmegaPyre PMC. In orbit sits one of the handful of FLEETCOM stations produced. While not understaffed, it was briefly vulnerable as soldiers were rotated out to return to their home planets with the Protectorate dissolution. In the Chaos, a band of pirates have stormed the station. They’re believed to be funded and equipped by the Sith and are holed up in engineering. Retake the station.

Objective #2 [Humanitarian]: Constant war between the Republic and Sith have brought refugees en masse. While they used to be swiftly corralled out to further Protectorate worlds in need of population, with times as they are, they’re overflowing the cities in search of rides off world and into the Outer Rim. Assist the refugees as they begin a new life on Fondor, or start looking for one elsewhere.


Objective #3 [Corporate/Economic/Technical]: Fondor has almost always been run by the Fondor Guild of Starshipwrights, which the OmegaPyre now sits at the head of. Large portions of the Protectorate fleet sit waiting new crews for reactivation. These fleets can easily provide the Galactic Alliance with a strong naval backbone, but investment is key. Fondor was often the home of cutting edge naval technology thanks to Ayden Cater, offering prime opportunities for those in the industrial sectors. Negotiate with the Guild and/or reactivate and repair the vessels mothballed in orbit.

Objective #4 [BYOO]: Talk to Sarge about how much he hates Herglics. Alternatively, bring your own objective.

How often Sarge had stood in this hangar was a matter of lengths of time rather than a matter of specific numbers. Once you got past a certain point it was less 'I've probably been deployed from here two hundred times' and more 'I've spent five years of my life aboard this ship.' Sarge was beginning to worry he'd never settle down, put the rifle up above the hearth and sit down with a book and some tea.

He was also beginning to worry that such an outcome may still be a possibility.

But he was at least passingly happy as he stared out from the hangar, blue haze of the atmospheric shield flavoring the orb suspended in the void before him. An illusion, he knew, as the planet was hurtling through nothing, but still...

Snapped from his reverie by the howling of dropship engines, he craned his head to watch the first bird exit the ship. Probably headed for the shipyards. They had to get crew to the mothballed ships fairly quick, get them working again. Time was of the essence, at least with getting rudimentary power going. The Sith could probably smell the blood in the water. Who knew anymore.

Part of him wanted not to care. Part of him knew that when he stopped caring, he'd be in the dirt, or launched into a star somewhere. There'd be no weeping for him; just a somber salute and a few grim nods. Rolling his shoulders to shake himself from the stupor, he watched as the rest of the Galactic Alliance ships jockeyed for formation.

There was a swarm around FLEETCOM. A few others, Leviathan included, hung about the shipyards. Transports were positioned over the starports, assisting groundside endeavors from there. Everything had a purpose. Sarge had always termed such things 'organized chaos,' because while it looked haphazard at times, everything was done with an end goal in mind.

In this case... keeping Fondor out of sinister hands.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective 1
Location: ShortFin
1/20

Fondor. Welcome back to the cores, freedom.

Coren Starchaser couldn’t help but smile as he looked out over the stars as the Tyrene had reverted to real space. He and the Tiburons were taking their new toys out to lunch, and part of that meant there was a bit of piracy going on. His least favorite thing. Coren clapped his hands together and looked at the ship’s XO. “You’re in charge.”

All but running down to the hangar deck, Coren found his ship, the ShortFin ready, willing and able, warmed up with the astromech, Arsix, in the cockpit. Coren moved to take his seat and for the first time was feeling happy. The Core. This was home, the Corellian was so near his homeworld, he could smell it.

The death and destruction, but the memories too. A quick spin around and he’d be home, then a simple bit of liberating it form the Sith and well, y’know, details.

“Welcome to the Core, Arsix. Didn’t think we’d see the day.” He was feeling on cloud nine right now. “Morning, Lexi, ready for a spin?” He spoke to the simulated intelligence like it was someone of importance. Well, with Audrey running around doing her thing, Kaia chasing pirates and his apprentice boning anything that walked, Sith or not, he needed some companionship. Powering up the comlink. “This is Starchaser to Tyrene control. Disembarking for the stations. Please send [member="Rook"] a message to have him meet me there.”

Thanks for holding down the fort, Omega Pyre, reinforcements have arrived.

 

[Aeron Kreelan]

Objective #3 [Corporate/Economic/Technical]
Fondor Guild of Starshipwrights
Omega Pyre
1/20

The cogs were starting to move again. Slowly, but surely, the mighty shipyards of Fondor were being fed the mass of living entities it required to slowly push back towards full production it had once known under the Protectorate. The Coporatocracy that was Fondor had long since served under Omega Pyre, one of the key three planets that came under the Primary Military Company's domain decades ago with Cira as its Prex.

Things were changing. Times were changing; and with the sponsorship of the Galactic Alliance, Omega Pyre was starting to breath life again. The treaty for Omega Pyre to join the collection of planets and governments as a last hurrah against the Sith paved a new path, a new goal. Now it wasn't just about being a Private Military company, now it was about the greater good. Serving alongside the Galacitc Alliance meant that soon, those borders and beyond the black might very well see incoming battle.

As it was, defenses were already being reinforced. However, that didn't meant they were out of the water. Trouble had come hailing from FleetCom, and right now several units were responding to it. Down here planet side, Aeron had to discuss the future of Fondor Shipyards and see who might be so inclined to help out.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: 1

Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Ylvaris Desman"], [member="Ijaat Akun"]

The Tyrene was already en route. Fondor was a world Rook had known would be on the recollection list. The Omega Pyre had particularly strong connections to the planet, and the allinace wanted to keep the PMC in their pocket. It didn't make much difference to the commander: his men were being tested. He'd opted to take the beast with him shortly after the escapade in the sewers. He hadn't asked questions then, but they needed to be poised soon.

Such talks would have to wait until later as the three Dreadguard, clad in massive power armor, boarded one of the shuttles in the hanger bay. Rook ran a quick check of his weapons. The Deece was still there, and that was all that really matter.

The sudden call from Coren caught him by surprise. A simple statement from Lexi that he wanted to link up. Perfect.

"Lexi, inform Starboy that my men will be there. The pirates will be crushed underfoot. Fondor is ours."

He cast the Beast and Kelghast a short look. "How do you two feel?"

 

[Peyton Steele]

Objective: 3
2/20

Peyton Steele hadn’t been to the Colonies region in… oh damn, how long had it been? She shook her head. It didn’t matter right now, not too much, all she knew was she was here, and she had her Quick Response Craft. Her mission was for intelligence. The world of Fondor was the Captial of the great Omega Protectorate, an outfit she had worn the uniform for, for a bit of time. She was smiling to see the world, it seemed that the galaxy was becoming a little brighter of a place. The Sith had hurt the Republic, but the Alliance was here.

And they were moving fast.

Speaking of fast, this ship? A whole lot quicker than her old one. She pulled into real space and whipped it through some maneuvers before an Alliance ship had dinged her on it. “Keep the fancy tricks for the air shows, QRC.”

Right, she didn’t have a call sign. When she came out of the split-S she double clicked the comm. Now, first things were first.

Ships, which did they need to restart?

 

[Avalore Eden]

Objective #2 [Humanitarian]: Constant war between the Republic and Sith have brought refugees en masse. While they used to be swiftly corralled out to further Protectorate worlds in need of population, with times as they are, they’re overflowing the cities in search of rides off world and into the Outer Rim. Assist the refugees as they begin a new life on Fondor, or start looking for one elsewhere.


Slow going was the pace set for her transition into the Galactic Alliance. Now a remarkable half-a-galaxy-away from everything she once knew, the defunct Chief Healer of the Jedi Order found herself floundering for her place within the machine. No familiar faces aside from [member="Meeristali Peradun"] were there for her to find comfort in. No memories of these planets or these people. No connections. Nothing.

Just a will to move on, to do right by the promises she'd made years ago, to finally become something important in the providence of this war against the darkness.

"Avalore Eden checking in. Humanitarian Team Alpha coming planetside."

[member="Vaet"] was with her along with a handful of other Healers and Medics she'd managed to collect from Sullust. They were few but they were ready. Their transport slowly dropped through the clouds, zeroing in on their target city.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Objective 2: Humanitarian aid
Allies: [member="Chevu Visz"], [member="Avalore Eden"]
Location: Streets of random city on Fondor

He couldn't help but feel a longing, a sort of calling to this specific mission in regards to the Galactic Alliance. He had heard there was an humanitarian effort, the likes of which reminded him of his time on Taris. The time spent preceding his meeting with Chevu. He jumped at the chance to do something good with his time, to evoke a feeling towards him. Anything beyond the notion that he was the Wrath of the One Sith. It was a mold he needed to break free from but even as he backs pedaled, it seemed the ceramic stuck. He couldn't shake it loose.

Now, standing in the dank and drab streets of Fondor, he felt a similarity to Taris that struck him with a shiver of his spine and the lifting of goose bumps across his flesh. And in spite of the rags he wore or the likeness he carried for a prominent member of the Sith, he was here to help. And he did so.

Soldiers of the GADF followed behind, those who were leaning towards curing the ailment of war, instead of fighting it. So close now, they felt the corruption of power flow freely from the worlds of close proximity. But as Gabriel took pieces of bread from the soldiers and handed them out, he saw the potential for prosperity. There was hope in the eyes of these paupers and beggars, the likes of which he could support and get behind.

"Here you go." He said with a smile, holding an old man by the shoulder. The man thanked him with what felt like the rattling of his bones. Gabriel nodded, understanding the struggle of famine and hunger, having known it's affliction in the mind. But he could only do so much. He continued down the line, giving hope where he could offer it.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Objective: 1
Allies: [member="Rook"] | [member="Ylvaris Desman"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
[1/20]

The Beast stood armed and armored for once, and once encased in armor, the size of him was truly staggering and inhuman. Well into seven feet tall, he might have topped eight feet in armor, and the auto-reactive pauldrons only added to the bulk even more really. Even with his size, the most unsettling thing was not that, but the utter air of just nothing around him. There was no emotion that seemed present, no bodylanguage besides aggression waiting to be unleashed and let loose. Violence seemed to ooze from his every pore in the armor, and the gun in his hand was a simple MK I boltgun from Firemane industries, which was just as terrifying in its' own right. Strapped to his thigh was a qylix bolt pistol, and across his back was a simply massive vibrosword that to anyone else would be flamberge length, but for him was just right. The artificer had nearly fainted when he asked for it.

"I am ready, High Lord... This one has been away from the field too long... Manda but it will be nice to return..."

The sudden straightening of his armored bulk showed confusion as the boltgun lowered, and he shook his helmeted head in wonder, shrugging massive shoulders.Sometimes he said words he wasn't sure how he knew, he just did... It was odd, really... Basic galactic knowledge was in his head, so he knew plainly of the Mandalorians, but somehow he knew the knowledge of the Manda and other cultural oddities was not something he was supposed to know. Wasn't sure how he knew what he should and shouldn't know, but there it was.

 

[EmKay]

OBJECTIVE: BYOO
LOCATION: ALLIANCE-AFFILIATED STAR DESTROYER
BECAUSE I LIKE STAR DESTROYERS WITH A BURNING PASSION
[member="NPCs by Corey"]
[1/20]

---

This was the next world. This was the spear head of the Galactic Alliance's fight for "Freedom"; but what was this freedom? So far, Tachon's loyalty hinged upon a favour. He was taken from being wrongly imprisoned and bound again by a contract to serve. It was better than the alternative, yet he still felt somehow at a lack of his own freedom. He stared at the ships descending down at the planet, and mused that he should take his Night Avril and join the fray. Should. Because he was supposed to, right? He sighed and followed a mouse droid around. Before he knew it, he was on the bridge, with a spectacular view of the world and its star. He stared for awhile, mesmerised. While others rallied off to 'liberate', he was here. With a world below him. It was rather symbolic, and part of him knew he needed help.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

(1)


"I see it hasn't changed much, has it? Minus having less furniture and creature comforts," Siobhan said in a chipper tone as she limped into the old penthouse that had been hers and [member="Tegaea Alcori"]'s home for a long time. It had been unused ever since they had left Fondor following Tegaea's resignation as Lady Protector.


That was a day Siobhan hated to remember, for the memories had been too painful. So many regrets had been associated with it. Time did not heal all wounds, but it made them less raw. Kaelin Isandros was dead. She would never hurt anyone she loved again. Siobhan had made sure of that.


"Yeah. I hear the mistress bed is still there if you want to break it in? After not being used for so long it's positively virginal," her minion Mei-Ling piped in, for it seemed that one of the requirements for being on Sio's staff was being a troll and making corny jokes. "There may be a couple rats scurrying around, but don't mind them."


Siobhan shot her a look. "Rats?" she raised an eyebrow at that.


"I'm kidding. You're not telling me you're scared of rats? I saw a big spider earlier though."


"No, I'm not," Siobhan insisted. "And I think a certain someone is getting a bit uppity." All her subordinates were insubordinate! Her eyes swept across the place as she had a look around. The place was spacious, though it had not been used for a long time and the priceless tapestries and works of art had long been removed. The amusing thing was that in the old days the luxurious surroundings had made Siobhan rather uncomfortable. So much had changed since then.


Light fell through the large transparisteel glass windows, as she reached what had been the living room. From here she had an beautiful view of the megacity. As a matter of fact, it had been one of the best views in her time. "Ah, there it is. OP Tower. I can see my old Exarch office from here," she spoke as she stepped close to the window.


"Getting nostalgic? Is this the moment where you talk about the 'good old days' and I'm expected to be all attentive and stuff?" Mei-Ling asked innocently. Perhaps she was trying to see how tolerant her boss would be of her trolling.


"I don't nostalgic. And those weren't the 'good old days' where everything was 'shiny and happy'. I'm a lot happier now. Miss some of the old crew sometimes. [member="HK-36"], even Dells since it was before she turned into a harpy. Still pissed I didn't fry that metal queen Skaldi after Gehenna. If Tegs hadn't recruited me into the Pyre...well, I can't imagine how life would've been. But Firemane's my baby. I'm very proud of what we built," she spoke brightly. Then she changed the topic and was all business. "How's our humanitarian relief going?"


"Op's up and running, boss," Mei-Ling responded after consulting a datapad. "Bulk freighters are delivering supplies, our boys are making everything's orderly. Place is flooded with refugees from the OS-Pub tussle, even folks from Kaeshana have apparently turned up here. Our people are working with the local government to help set up camps and emergency shelters. We've also engineers helping the GA fix up the old ships mothballed in the Fondor 'yards."

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: 1
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Rook"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwbj2gzzTpk​

​

​

Kelghast looked to Rook and Ijaat. "I feel ready." He pulled back the bolt on his assault rifle and checked the ammo counter. The rifle felt satisfying in his gauntlets, his form bulky and made into a juggernaut of war. The eyes of the helmet gave no sign of humanity, only a cold dead metallic stare of pending judgement that would rain upon the pirates. It was truly something ponder over, these people. It was almost an insult that they had never heard of the superior Dreadguard and their brute force tactics, their dominance over the battlefield. There was nothing that could save them, no where they could hide, no words they could ever speak to ease their suffering, no tears. Only an endless sleep awaited these scum. To Kelghast, they should simply kneel before himself and his Dreadguard brethren and allow a beheading given how unfair a fight it will be.

"Child's play..."

The twisted designs and forms of Kelghast's armor would strike fear into the hearts of men and women and have them turning in the opposite direction. They had no idea what awaited them. This would be their undoing, their worst nightmare.

"Remember; no mercy, no words. Only death."

Kelghast fell silent, waiting.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Objective 2
[member="The Revenant"] [member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Vaet"]
City Hall

GALACTIC ALLIANCE HUMANITARIAN AID
Letters of fresh paint gleamed along the side of the small transport freighter as it hummed down through the city buildings, following the power lines along the broad streets. The dereliction of Fondor was never so apparent to Avalore as it was now with her bird's eye view of the overcrowded broadways. Instead of upscale civilians flocking to business and market a swathe of woe-begotten refugees stretched near as far as she could see. The mass writhed like an angry ant colony.

They looked up at the thundering boom of the ship as it passed overhead, squinting into the gleam of the sun off its shell, watched it rumble by en route for City Hall.

"Reports show they've been running low on supplies for days. We're likely to get rushed for food, water, medical attention. Let the localized militia worry about maintaining order, focus on your jobs. High-priority trauma victims first - there aren't many, most have been transported off-world, but the ones remaining are in poor shape. Healers get them tended and ready for evac. Medics you'll be assisting those already attending the wounded. Bring in the supply crates and get them restocked."

"Vaet, you and I will be searching for those stranded in the streets. Is everybody clear?"

 

[Chevu Visz]

Objective: #2, help refugees
Location: streets
Allies: [member="The Revenant"] [member="Avalore Eden"]
Enemies: NA
1/20

They came from all over the core: Atrisians, Belgarothians, Khommites alike. Refugees from across the galaxy had swarmed to Fondor in the wake of the One Sith's march over the galaxy. They risked life and limb to land themselves and their families on the former Omega Protectorate world and out from under the shadow of the Sith, but once dirtside, they faced innumerable troubles due to their sheer numbers. Food. Housing. Medicine, these necessities were all in short supply in refugee camps all across the planet. Chevu Visz, Jedi Knight of the Galactic Alliance, hoped that today she help alleviate the suffering of at least some of the displaced, although during a mission such as this it was always woefully clear that no amount of help was ever enough.

In a more selfish way, helping the people of Fondor was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in Chevu's own life. Her Master was barely speaking to her and her pride was still stinging from the loss of her Marshal rank. On top of that, no matter what mission she was on, she needed to stop a million times and take care of her relentless morning sickness.

She was set to meet Gabriel and other Galactic Alliance operatives at one of the city's many refugee camps. This section of town was incredibly reminiscent of the Lower City of Taris, which was where she met Gabe. Ironic. A pungent odor of unwashed bodies and sewer water filled the air. Luckily her stomach had settled. For now.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Obj. 1
2/20
@Rook @Ylvaris Desman [member="Ijaat Akun"]

FLEETCOM. That was where the pilot was heading. The reports were that there were pirates taking over the station and Coren was going to need to get in there and at least distract them long enough for Rook and his team to arrive. He pushed the throttle to the maximum he could while still holding stealth as he entered the immediate subspace of the station.

“Lexi, keep on course. I need to go change.”

Cue a scene of epic awesomeness of Coren Starchaser putting his armor on. Escept, well, not as awesome as Iron Man, or the Dreadguard. But it was lightweight, and it allowed him to use his Aing-Tii skills to the best of his ability. Blaster pistol on one hip, light repeater on another and the lightsaber located at the small of his back, he was going to be ready for the pilots. Putting his helmet on the co-pilot’s seat, he had taken controls of the ship and the stealth vessel, not cloaked, but stealth, was able to make its way into one of the hangars.

Luckily it was a friendly hangar and the Corellian stepped onto the landing pad.

“Sir… We’ve got an estimated location on the pirates. Are you going in alone?”

Coren took the datapad from the Sergeant and shook his head. “No, we’re bringing in a new unit. Special teams.”

Hopefully the Dreadguard would leave the Station standing.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Ship en route to station
Objective: 1, Slaughter
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Ylvaris Desman"], [member="Ijaat Akun"]

No words. Only death.

The Dreadguard had changed. The banter remained, as well as the loyalty between brothers and sisters; sometimes to the point of love. But their souls? Different. No longer were they a defensive force. No longer would they follow the mandates of politicians and nobles. They were their own people now, and where Rook pointed, they would go. Their purpose was to wipe out the opponents of peace in the galaxy by any means. Many of the surviving Dreadguard, particularly the descendants of warriors long dead, adopted a more violent approach. Rook could not say he didn't agree with it. Things were so much easier when you could put down any poor sod who dared to call himself a Sith, after all. No moral gray area, just targets.

The shuttle made a low whirring noise as its engines powered down. The pilot had managed to angle them into the same docking bay Starchaser now occupied. That was well and good; there was nothing worse than having no control over the battle. In space, particularly in a situation such as this, the Dreadguard would have to sit on their shebs waiting for the pilot to find a way in. A friendly landing was much easier.

"Having flashbacks warrior?" Rook inquired as he tilted his head toward the Beast, "Memory snippets?"

The doors hissed open. With a thud, Rook fell stepped down onto the deck ahead. Clad in the newest model of the DG-MK-III gear, Rook was a sight to behold. He stood as tall as the Beast, and boasted armor dark as a black hole. The purpose was to intimidate. The armor certainly did its job.

"We're here Starboy." The High Lord made his way over to the commander's ship, "You may want to bring an extra coat of paint to redo the station walls after we're done. We're going to be painting them red."

 

[Matsu Ike]

Location: Medical Ship
Objective: Humanitarian
Post: 1/20

Heading down to the planet was something she couldn't believe. The last time they had been here she had been visiting HK for something and now well now she was there with some of the medical groups they were working on. Testing a new implant for the men under her as Matsu held the laser working on it. "Now the implant should allow you to be the only one able to hear when the teams are speaking clearly. We'll also use the ocular implants to monitor what you are doing on patrol." She finished and the ocular implants gleamed a soft blue glow in the dim light as they were heading down towards the planet. "We'll work on getting things setup down there."

 

[EmKay]

OBJECTIVE: BYOO
LOCATION: ALLIANCE-AFFILIATED STAR DESTROYER
[2/20]

---

Tachon received a few odd looks from the crew, especially the captain, but they let the Iridonian be as he sat at the edge of the bridge and watched the planet slowly turn. At the same time, his thoughts turned and churned inside his head. Had his life led here? It had to have. There were opportunities here, but he had no contacts. The only person he'd truly interacted with insofar was [member="Ruby Rose"], but he had not spoken with her in awhile. He closed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap. He recalled what the man of his past, who he knew now was a Jedi, had taught him. So Tachon immersed himself into a meditative trance, to attempt to think more clearly.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Objective: 1
Allies: [member="Rook"] | [member="Ylvaris Desman"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
[2/20]

The Beast, as his new found friends.. Well, maybe not friends but allies at the least... The Beast nodded in response to Rook's question and stepped out. Each of them were clad in the MK III Armor, which had been something that The Beast wasn't willing to admit he had designed... There were frequent periods when he blacked out, and would come to minutes, hours, or even days later. He would have no recollection of the intervening gap of blank space that stole away his memory, but usually he awoke with odd designs made, and almost always he awoke in his own quarters, wherever they were at that time. The last time he had suffered such a bout, he had passed out and awoke almost a week later, shortly before they left for Fondor. He had awoken with three datapads full of designs for things, and his room covered in scribbled bits of paper.

The designs on the datapad had been for the basic chasis for the armor each wore now, systems and internals and such, as well as several sketches of gun designs, rough dimensions on the vibrosword he bore, and other ideas he had handed over to the more than capable armorers available at Sullust. And they had suceeded, for the most part. The armor was phrik, which felt wrong to him, as if it should be something else, but he couldn't really argue the utility of having armor that could halt or turn aside a lightsaber, no matter what the source was. So as Rook walked down the ramp, the imposing figure followed suit, head on a swivel as if in an active war zone and not a friendly hangar.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: En route to station
Objective: Kill, Maim, Burn.
Allies: [member="Rook"] [member="Ijaat Akun"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

Kelghast followed behind Rook like he had done many times before. In true military fashion, he was uniform with his brother, They acted as a unit and not as mindless warriors trying to scream their lungs out to show intimidation. For a brief moment, Kelghast's HUD flickered with a wave of blood red static along with a brief disturbance of an image of a face that he couldn't distinguish. He hadn't mentioned anything like this to Rook out of paranoia, since he didn't wish to be put out of service. Kelghast needed this life, he needed the carnage to function or else the Netherworld's hold would only tighten and leave him choking on irrationality. It was an exercise needed to be practiced over and over to keep it in control, a medicinal reasoning.

Kelghast then remembered his past life. He remembered her...

He remembered and he didn't want to. Pain welled up in his chest as he closed his eyes, blinking away the unease rising in his being. Now was not the time. That was long ago when he couldn't defend like he could now, when he was a nobody and a weakling. Why did fate tend to call upon its chosen at the worst times? Why did it allow loss and then give something in return when it still felt like nothing was achieved? He would still fight for her, them, and where he came from. Everyone and everything that got in his way would suffer his wrath.

"Make sure they bring an extra layer to put down. I have some venting I need to do."

He remembered her face.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective 1
[member="Ylvaris Desman"]
[member="Ijaat Akun"]
[member="Rook"]
4/20 because I can't count

Coren was ready. When he saw the other ship come in, he grined. He knew what that meant. Reinforcements were not only standing by, they had arrived. The Corellian nodded as he looked over the new armor digs on Rook. “A change, huh?” He smirked and looked to the Pyre officers who saluted and carried on. They didn’t seem to like the talk of the paint.

“We’ve got pirates holed up on the station. Work has it they’re in engineering. Fraking with the controls, trying to vent the station. Probably don’t have long. Need to get in, and end them. Can’t tell who they originated with, but they’re here now.” He had his helmet off still, looking from his brother-in-arms, to the others that had arrived with him.

“Fresh recruits?” He looked back to Rook, then to the two who flanked him. “The station is stable for now, but the longer they’re in there, the worse it will be. My ship will try to counter slice them, but extracting them.” However they did that. “Is how primary objective.”