Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Orn'om

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The K'uur dropped out of hyperspace somewhere along the Mara Corridor. As the bright blue and white field of elongated starlight shifted into the more comforting speckled black of real-space, dozens of ships were brought into view. Old, rusty, Mandalorian ships from bygone eras floated with what felt like an uneasy waver. A few of the bridge crew stared out at the group of ships. At least one of his crew, he knew, was part of clan Kryze and they wore their clan's sigil on their naval uniform along with one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen. He wondered when the last time he'd seen kin was considering the K'uur often took long voyages with the last one having been the better part of a year.

A slightly robotic, yet alluring voice came from over Zeke's shoulder causing the man to jump slightly.

"Lady Kryze wasn't kidding when she said her clan needed an upgrade," Van muttered just loud enough for Zeke to hear. She had silently moved to his side sporting one of the outfits Zeke had picked out for her. Honestly, sometimes he wished she wasn't a secret murder bot with Mandalorian assassination protocols burned in. Why didn't he just...leave her as is? A silly question. After the Civil War being forced into designing ships for the Mandalorian Empire by Dorn Skirata and Ra Viszla had made him more cautious than ever. Zeke was no slouch, he'd served for several years in the formal Mandalorian Military, but in all honesty with his cybernetics he wasn't half the soldier he had been and Van made up for that in all her deadly alluring glory.

The lead ship of the flotilla sent the MandalMotors vessel a docking vector and the helmsman obliged by flying the black wedge up to what looked a Legacy-class battlecruiser dowsized several times. It was so old in fact, the crew of the K'uur couldn't identify it from any known ship signitures. It took Van several minutes to find out that it was an ancient Clone Wars era vessel known as a Venator-class Star Destroyer.

They were in definite need of assistance. Gilamar Skirata joined the pair at the docking tube when they'd arrived.

"This ship has to be at least a thousand years old," Gil murmured to Zeke.

"So older than you then?" Zeke quipped in reply. A grunt of confirmation from the old Mandalorian brought a smirk to his lips as the vessels locked and the docking tube hissed.
 
“We’ve lost a line on reactor three again. Power is dropping to the dockin...” the Kryze tech cut off as another Mandalorian leant past and gently tightened a line of tape holding the wiring in place, then grimaced as the gauges shot back into the green.

Shia was not witness to this, but she knew it was probably happening, judging by the delay in the tell-tales.

It wasn’t that the Clan didn’t know how to make ships - they’d made the Eyrie, hadn’t they? But that had been an investment, a goal, a home... and it was a home that in the end, they couldn’t afford to take with them outside of Empire space. They still had the Huntress, but that wasn’t a practical vessel in many ways - although as a test-bed, she’d proved some theories.

She kicked herself bitterly about that, sometimes, but getting the Clan to agree to modernise had been... a challenge. These ships had kept them alive and free for centuries, and what they’d seen on Mandalore had just reinforced their determination to stay free.

‘Nothing so big we can’t maintain it, alor’ was a refrain she’d heard a lot.

Except, the Dauntless had served during the Clone Wars. You could still see the battle scars. She was a museum piece... and Shia’s home, she’d run these corridors from a very young age. She understood.

But you needed to move house.

Just this once, she’d told her elder sister, her aunts, uncles and numerous Vode of complex relationships to go sit somewhere quiet and let her do the talking and planning. It had worked for their ground forces, hadn’t it? She’d kept their traditions and built a modern force capable of pulling in enough pay that she could afford the up-front costs of even talking to Gil and Zeke.

Because while the ship may be ancient, the warriors within gleamed in new armour, their shipboard uniforms - those that wore them - were new and fresh. The Protectors had made interested noises about having well armed nomads as allies.

And she knew something others didn’t - she knew the location of one of the mothballed ship storage yards from before the plague, before the New Republic. Someone else’s memory, but when Neo-Mandalore had disarmed, they didn’t turn swords to plowshares.

Yes, some of those ships were 10,000 years old _before_ they were put into storage. But hulls don’t rust when stored in neutral nitrogen, particularly not beskar ones.

The tell-tales finally flickered green. Dodgy cable, then. She adjusted her ‘uniform’ - the sharply cut blue and white coat over the bodysuit she always wore with pretty much everything, then reached forward to slap the panel unlock and stepped forward to greet her guests.

Or maybe she was theirs, she would like to look around that refit they’d arrived in - she’d heard about it, but never seen it in person.

[member="Zeke Farthen"]
 

Gilamar Skirata

The most important step is always the next one
[SIZE=10.5pt]The doors hissed open and Shia stood inside the tube. Zeke's face was a mix of worry and horror and the blue haired droid standing beside him held a rather neutral expression. Gil on the other hand waited, clad in his brown beskar'gam, with a wide grin on his bearded face. [/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=10.5pt]"Shia, welcome. Its good to see you, though I wish we could be on the water in the Oyu'baat." Gil's grin turned to a sad smile. He jabbed a thumb over at Zeke and gave her a shrug. "Zeke's got some reservations about meeting on your vessel. Mind if we talk here?" He also wanted to meet here because it meant there was less of a chance of Zeke losing his droid which he still refused to mind wipe. She had the entire catalog downloaded into her memory banks, not to mention secret shipping lanes and schedules. [/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=10.5pt]She was a liability.[/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=10.5pt]Gil brushed the thought away and gestured for Shia to come aboard.[/SIZE]

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[member="Shia Kryze"]
 

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