Legacy of the Bando Gora

[Marmora]

Gehenna​

High Orbit​

​

​

A brilliant flash marked the otherwise unmarred darkness of the void, the vessel careening at speeds unimaginable, though appearing as merely drifting to the naked eye. This place was scared by battle, and the remnants of vessels that littered the world was sign enough, let alone those visible points that could barely be seen when the thick, toxic cloud cover slipped away for a mere moment. ​

​

The vessel was just as likely as old as many of the vessel remnants that floated back and forth slowly, shifting with the slightest nudge and careening into other debris. The old Washburn class Medium Transport seemed at home in the wreckage, and had it not been moving, could have just as easily been mistaken for a bit of debris. ​

​

With a quiet motion, the vessel began to slow, the pilot pulling back on the yolk and beginning to shut down the engines. The woman had been brought here by her own remnants, those last few whispers that she could still hear. Something pushed her to the world, to the place that a destructive cult had once called home. ​

​

Had any of them survived the onslaught wrought upon them by multiple enemies she could not easily say. From what she was able to gleam through from her own observations, it appeared that they went down swinging. The marks of vessels of various affiliations and loyalties riddled the space around the world, and it was clear that had any survived, they may be the smart ones that kept their heads down and sought not beyond their own means. ​

​

A soft smile began to cross her lips as she peered down upon the world, the toxic world that would otherwise kill her if she even attempted to land. Her ship might be able to handle it, though from the looks of the rather ratty and distressed evosuits, she couldn't say the same. With a heavy sigh she looked over to the seat next to her shaking her head slowly. ​

​

"Tsk, tsk. Now then captain, why couldn't you have been good and kept your evosuits in better condition?" ​

​

Of course there would be no response, the captain lay slumped forward in his chair, a visible hole at the base of his skull leaked a viscous red ooze that ran along his spin. A soft smile growing back upon her lips as she set the vessel to match orbit, leaving the computer and autopilot to deal with the practical route to keep the ship out of the debris. Carefully slipping out of the pilot's seat, she stepped over the remains of the pilot, a rather youthful and energetic young woman. It was sad really, the woman had rather enjoyed the lungs that the girl had on her, and what a pair they were. ​

​

Shaking her head to pull her thoughts away from the seductive encounters she had with the young, former crew mate and pilot, she stepped over the grating that had been left in place. Slender fingers reached out and ran along the cold view screens of the vessel before she heard a loud thud. A soft smile coming to her lips as she looked over her shoulder to see the rather large Trandoshian drop what appeared to be another member of the crew. ​

​

"Well done. Is that all of them?" ​

​

A simple nod of the head meant that the vessel was cleared of what little crew members it had, and of those pesky passengers. She was sure one of them was quoting some religious drivel to her, some shepard or something on a pilgrimage. She didn't quite care for what he had to say, though she did find it amusing listening to his praying as the screams of those around him grew louder. ​

​

Her pale grey hues fell back upon the world, her hand resting on the screen as she sighed. She wanted to get closer, though she wouldn't be able to, at least not with the equipment on board. Then again, they could grab a few items that were in orbit, at least the ship could handle that. ​

​

That devilish grin slowly crept back upon her face as a body slowly floated across her view. Eyes falling upon the horned skull helm that it was wearing, the markings still as fresh and vibrant as the day they were painted upon the bone white. Slowly slipping away, she took the pilot's seat once more, watching as the captains body was unceremoniously lifted and thrown over the control console before the ship lurched forward slightly, dragging the dead body into the open cargo hold. ​

​

"What else might we find out here among this graveyard?" ​

​

 

[Corrin Tal'verda]

The Bando Gora were little more than a story used to scare unruly children these days; having been eradicated long before Corrin's birth. He'd heard tales of his parents playing some part in that slaughter, and thus had made his way toward this ruined world. The young man was on the hunt for anything that might prove his worth to the rest of the Mando'ade. He'd made the erroneous decision to challenge the Mandalore on his thirteenth birthday -- one he had paid quite the price for. He was not prepared then; not for the title, and not for the battle that came with it.

Shortly thereafter the lord of Mandalore's north had taken to the stars. The clan was ruled by his sister in his stead. He was not ready to lead the Tal'verda to greatness, not ready to deal with the rigors of leadership. The other clans would never respect him if he did not prove himself, so the boy went on his hunt. Felucia had brought with it the horrors of nature, and Corrin had emerged with an Acklay's scalp under his arm. Hoth had required great fortitude to survive its endless cold, and still, he breathed. Now, this world would yield whatever lingering nightmares the Bando Gora might have cooked up before their fall.

His armor had a vacuum layer that would serve the same purpose as an exosuit, for a time. It was nowhere near as effective as a dedicated suit, but that was all part of the challenge. If he could survive the hostile environment below for even a little bit of time, he might earn back some of the respect he had lost. Corrin had a dream: one that meant the tales of his feats needed to be told just as his father's were.

He had not seen salvagers in the area for some time. His ship, an old Belbulab re-purposed for travel rather than combat, hung dead in the atmosphere. He was planning a path through the deadly terrain below when a ship he did not recognize passed by. It was larger than his own, and one he did not recognize -- likely one of the salvagers. Speaking to them would save him some time on planning.

If they caused trouble, his Belbulab was fast enough to get away. If not, then he might find some great feat to be accomplished via the salvagers. All in all, he felt he had control of the situation. Corrin hailed the ship.

"Evening. You folks salvagers?" He paused, running a hand through his short brown hair, "If so, I'd like to trade some information."

[member="Marmora"]

 

[Marmora]

Leaning forward, her slender fingers ran of the console before her, only to have a heavy sigh once more escape her lips. It appeared that of all the vessels she and her rather large sized acquaintance ended up on, they found one in the Galaxy that had not a single weapon to defend itself with. Another deep groan of annoyance towards the captain was punctually followed with another small show of disappointment to the corpse. ​

​

"Now, now captain. How were you going to protect yourself from all the little beasties out there in the galaxy. Not a single weapon to fire on this karking dump." ​

​

She leaned back in the pilots seat, crossing her arms over her ample bosom for a moment as the Trandoshian sitting next to her looked over. The woman taking a moment to decide if she should reply or not; though she rather preferred that no one had known she came out here. This was meant to be a secret little trip, a passing thought and a means to get the whispers to stop. Though now as they orbit high above the world, the whispers seemed to become louder and louder. ​

​

Bringing her hand up to rest upon her temple slightly, she nodded slowly. Her slender fingers reaching out as they gracefully danced over the blinking light and the control console before her. Slowly making their way towards the button that would open up the channel to return a few words. Looking over to her new 'friend', she let a small smile cross her lips. ​

​

"Try not to set a bad example." ​

​

A gruff growl came from the beast, which would likely have been met with a spray bottle had she one on hand. Pressing firmly upon the button, her voice would soon ring out in the cockpit of the opposite vessel, though her own remained drifting along with the debris. A devilish grin crossing her lips as she smirked softly before speaking. ​

​

"That we are. Now what kind of information would you be needing?" ​

​

With a gentle draw of her hand, the button released as she smirked softly once more. Leaning back and thinking about what the ship must look like on the inside in comparison to how beat up it was on the outer. Though she didn't worry too much about it, other than the possibility of having a guest. ​

​

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher smiled as his Spyglass swam out of hyperspace and into the debris-strewn space around Gehenna. Of course, he could only see because he had himself hard-linked into the ship's computer at the moment. But from what the computer could see, the only light in this graveyard of ships came from two smaller craft. But they weren't the important thing, right now. Not unless they suddenly began to shoot at him.​

​

The Typhoon Commodore stood up from his seat, keeping the fingers of his right hand on the armrest to maintain the connection with the Spyglass' computer. As dangerous as he knew the planet would be to organic beings, the sight of Gehenna and its gaseous cloud was more than enough to get the Human Replica Droid excited. He could already imagine the smells and tastes on the air down there. Planets like these were one of the few things that made him glad he was a droid. He could quite easily 'breathe' in toxic atmospheres.​

​

Now, he turned his attention to the two ships. With the fingers that kept him linked to the computer, he keyed a somewhat private channel to the smaller craft.​

​

"Unidentified ships, this is the Spyglass. Y'all stuck out here, or just takin' in the view?"​

​

[member="Marmora"] [member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

 

[Corrin Tal'verda]

Corrin took his sweet time in replying. It was a woman's voice that gave the reply; one that seemed friendly enough. Of course, such pleasantries were often illusions in this part of the galaxy. You were more likely to run in on a brigade of pirates than a kind soul. Still, he'd initiated the conversation: it was only proper to give some form of reply.

He almost stated that he was new to the system. Almost. His armor-bound fingers came to rest over the transmit button as his lips twisted to form the words. Thank the force he'd stopped himself. The last thing he needed anyone to know was that he was both a bit lost, and very much alone aboard his snub-nose fighter. He could make out no visible weapons aboard the larger vessel, but the Belbulab housed no sensors to search for hidden ordnance. The wrong word could be a fatal mistake out here.

"I've been scanning the local areas for some time now -- looking for a place to land this ship," he paused, drawing in a deep breath to settle himself, "I mean to do a bit of exploration. I'm looking for areas a bit more hospitable to humans."

Not that hospitable could describe any of this damned planet.

"If you have some routes, I'd be willing to trade the results of my scans. I came across many wrecks that might be worth something to someone of your profession."

He parted his lips to say more, but the arrival of another ship in the system made him hold his tongue. The voice accompanying this one was male, or so it seemed to be. The biggest difference? Corrin could not make out whether that ship was armed with turbolasers or scatterguns from this distance. His offer did not come in the way of words, but in a quick shift of power to the engines. The Belbulab was ready to leave on a moment's notice.

[member="Watcher Three"], [member="Marmora"]

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

Gehenna - not a place to wander unaware. Mara had grown up on her father's war stories. The name Kerrigan had meaning for her, and the designations 'Chaos' and 'True Reaver.' Her aunt had faced the Bando Gora resurgence deep in the spinward end of the Unknown Regions, and those stories had been just as grim, if more familiar. Jorus might have killed more reavers, but Rave had understood them better.

A host of reasons for trepidation, when ships wandered out this way and vanished. The search and rescue craft 'Santiago', Mara D. Merrill commanding, hit realspace at the edge of the Gehenna system and commenced scanning.

 

[Marmora]

"How marvelous, we're collecting quite a gathering out here. Soon we'll have enough for a pleasant tea party." ​

​

The woman mused to herself, only loud enough that the Trandoshan next to her gave off a slight grunt of displeasure. Of course she was smart enough not to openly broadcast her scorn of the others whom had arrived. Merely it made what she sought to achieve just that bit more difficult. Here it was, this world of the Bando Gora, so much history in such a deadly cult, attacked and destroyed by first the Omega Protectorate before being finished off by those fringe elements of the Outer Rim. ​

​

With a heavy sigh she shook her head slightly, though the thought that the Omega Protectorate was no more, in terms of their galactic power was a bit reassuring. That fact alone could easily mean the difference in what she sought to see make a reemergence within the Galaxy. A devilish grin crossing her lips as she slowly leaned forward, watching the debris slowly floating above the world that had seen its inhabitants wrought destruction across the Galaxy. ​

​

"I must apologize as we've only arrived. Not enough time to establish a firm route through such lucrative prospects." ​

​

It was all an act of course, and one that she sought would be for the best if she kept it up, rather than letting on that she was there in an attempt to recover items and artifacts that might allow her the capability of rebuilding the cult. Clearing her throat softly, she leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes for a moment before they flashed open. A soft chill ran down her spine as the whispers in her mind grew much louder, slowly and steadily. ​

​

Something was out there, be it in the debris that had taken up orbit around the world or on the planet itself buried in some forgotten place that had become a tomb for the Bando Gora. Something called out to her and now with all these eyes, she felt uneasy. Shifting slightly in her seat, she waited for a response, only for her to remember that other ship, the one that seemed to be a bit nosy as to why the others had been there. ​

​

Of course she could have just as easily brushed it off, maybe played injured and in need of aid to get them to drop their own guard. Though that would mean allowing them on board, and with how messy it was at that moment, not to mention the simple fact that the hold had been opened, making an attempt to appear as salvagers collecting from the debris and bringing it back into the hold. Without much of an option, she scoffed at the mere idea that she had to deal with these intrusions to her search. ​

​

"We're fine, just having a friendly chat. It would appear that someone took a wrong turn at the halved Reaver ship and got turned around." ​

​

She hated small talk, and being forced to interact with these people was causing her to grow even more uneasy than she already had become. ​

​

[member="Watcher Three"]​

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]​

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]​

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher shrugged at the empty air, obviously knowing that the person on the other end of the comm line couldn't see it. He really didn't care why the other ships were there. He just wanted to get to the surface and satiate his curiosity. This was distracting him. These ships were sitting in his way.

"Well, enjoy your chat, miss. I'm just trying to get past you both so I can land."

As he said that, the engines of the Spyglass kicked back on. The tractor beams moved the larger pieces of debris out of the way as the assault cruiser made tracks towards Gehenna. Something the woman on the comm said stuck with him though. He keyed the channel again, and raised an eyebrow as he asked his question.

"Are there still Reavers here?"

[member="Marmora"] [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] [member="Corrin Tal'verda"]

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

Three ships insystem, the SAR craft's advanced sensors said. An old Washburne -- designed by her dad -- a far older Bebullab transmitting from the surface, and an indeterminate vessel with the IFF Spyglass. All seemingly unconnected, or at least there were no obvious connections. Something was wrong here, but not immediately so. Her gut said that, at any rate, and an astrogator lived by her gut.

She keyed in a microjump, and the big H-Wing cutter leaped insystem, then arced into a high orbit. She opened a transmission, a broadcast all could hear.

"This is the Galactic Alliance long patrol and rescue ship Santiago, hailing the ship on the surface. Gehenna's a poor place to be grounded, friend. Do you require any assistance?"

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]
[member="Marmora"]
[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Corrin Tal'verda]

Ships were appearing out of thin air! In reality, Corrin had just stumbled upon an area he'd never traveled before, but in the young man's mind it all made a bit too much sense. Rather than respond to the salvager woman, he turned the Belbulab about: beginning to key in the hyperspace coordinates for Sullust.

At least he was, until one of the stranger claimed to be Galactic Alliance. His kin were working with those folks on some grand mission to reclaim the southern half of the galaxy. It was not a bad cause, and it did indeed have some merit; getting shot for strangers just wasn't his gig. A bit ironic considering who his family were.

He would have turned to go right then and there, but that might have looked suspicious. He doubted the alliance would care much about a rogue fighter out here on the fringe of civilization, but he'd heard the stories. Some of these alliance folks were a bit overzealous in their cause. He had no way of knowing if the captain of the Santiago was one of those types. Better not to chance it.

"Always outnumbered. Always outgunned," he sighed, "Shab."

The Belbulab didn't have a name. You did not name starfighters, so far as Corrin was concerned. Still, it only seemed polite to make one up.

"This is the Ge'hutuun," Corrin cringed, "I'd say we're all fine and dandy out here."

There wasn't any running, not for now. Rather than just sit there, the Mando tilted the Belbulab down toward the planet below, and began to make his descent.

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

[member="Marmora"]

[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Marmora]

Rolling her eyes slightly, there seemed to be more and more vessels clawing their way out of the void and just so happened to end up in the same little corner she had driven herself towards. Not only did she have some kid to deal with in a little fighter, and some other cruiser, now it appeared that the 'good guys' of the Galactic Alliance deemed it necessary to push their nose into what was rightfully none of their business. With another heavy sigh, which was emphasized by a low growl from the Trandoshian, she merely leaned back in the seat. ​

​

At least she didn't look like a threat, though she couldn't tell at that moment if it was a good look or not. She could just as easily end up the same way the crew of the vessel had should one of those other well armed vessels decide to open fire. Taking a moment for herself, she rolled her eyes as the spyglass began to move towards the world, using its tractor beams to push a part of a vessel out of the way. Though from the few things she understood about the aftermath of the battle was that an attempt to collect the vessels for value and terraforming the world was made. ​

​

From the look of it though there had been quite a few vessels missed, or they had to pull back from the plan when everyone up and disappeared in the Galaxy. At least she could smirk at the thought that those whom had wrought this destruction were no more in the position to guide galactic politics or wage decimation on this scale upon any other world or those whom did not believe their ideals. The thought though of bringing such a nightmare back to the Galaxy however was growing in her mind, and the whispers that urged the with the simple words 'do it' continued to grow. ​

​

A soft smirk pulled at her lips, curling them up as she leaned forward. Her grey hues fell upon the world once more before her finger pressed against the communications button, deciding to answer the simple question that had been poised. A question that gave her a bit of fun and brought a twinkle to her eye. ​

​

"With as much death and destruction that was wrought here, it is hard to say. The multiple campaigns seemed to have done a number on the Bando Gora, though can it really be say that every single Reaver is dead? Perhaps the smartest ones have remained in hiding and not drawing further attention upon themselves." ​

​

As she cut the link, she allowed a soft chuckle to escape from her lips. From the corner of her eye she could see as the Trandoshan smirked, the beast enjoying the thought of frightening some young kid that had no reason to be here and didn't rightly belong in a vessel. Those Galactic Alliance zealots though would be a different story as she once more rolled her eyes. There would always be the good doers whom just had to insert themselves into every little situation, and it appeared that the Galactic Alliance was doing a damn well job and meeting its apparent quotas. ​

​

"I trust he is fine. With what little Terraforming was attempted, it appears that the world is no more dangerous than Mustafar. Though I'm sure it has much more in common with Haruun Kal given the looks of those clouds." ​

​

For the woman though this world was an Eden, a holy place for pilgrimage, the former home of the Bando Gora whom had been wrought from existence by the Omega Protectorate. With a silent nod, the Trandoshan closed the doors of the bay, trapping a few little bits of debris as well as another body; potentially carrying a prize that the woman had been here for. Though her true purpose was down upon the world below, and just as the other vessel had pointed itself down and already begun to descend, so too would her old freighter. ​

​

"Shall we pierce the veil?" ​

​

She mused to her Trandoshan companion as the vessel began to slowly push into a lower orbit. Now it came to the matter of if those above decided that they would follow, or make some foolish attempt at preventing her from finishing her path. ​

​

​

[member="Watcher Three"]​

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]​

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]​

 

[Marmora]

With all those that had apparently crawled their way out of the wood works having finally fallen silent, she may finally be able to get about what she had originally sought out to do before she was so rudely interrupted. With a heavy sigh, she nodded to the Trandoshian sitting next to her, whom pulled the vessel away from where it had been resting, slipping through the gravitational field that had been holding the vessel in orbit around the planet. Leaning back slightly in her own seat, or what she was calling her seat, her hands ran along the arm rest of the rather uncomfortable seat. ​

​

"Honestly my dear captain, I do not see how you call this comfortable; and you even had your corpulent figure smashed into here for hours on end. If he were not dead and a thing of legend, one might have mistaken you for the late [member="Darth Voracitos"]." ​

​

The soft giggle crossed her lips as she had imagined the girth of that being attempting to wedge its heavy frame into the seat that she was gracefully occupying. While her attention was pointed forward, she seemed to have sparked a bit of a humming fit in her Trandoshian companion. What few bits she could make out from the couple of words that broke between the hums had something to do with a four by four, and a door; though the thoughts of why one would have those words together merely slipped her mind. ​

​

She returned to her task at hand, that being her own little field trip unto the world that held the Legacy of the Bando Gora. The people that had been brutalized by the Omega Protectorate and those that called themselves the 'Lords' of the Fringe. Of course now that those two groups were gone, and even a Meteor had been so nice as to impact upon Kaeshanna, she felt a bit safer in her endeavor. Though not so much that she wouldn't still ensure that she had a means to escape or at least slip away had someone else decided to look a bit more closely at her actions. ​

​

It was bad enough that this new little Galactic Alliance had appeared, though she merely chalked it up to the denizens of the galaxy falling back upon their past. History records and shows some ancient Galactic Alliance before that had risen to some lofty peak or another, though it, much like the ancient Empire, had become controlled by a Sith Lord. A small smirk crossed her lips as she mused at that little factoid and perhaps this new one would follow history, or would they learn from it? ​

​

For her though she neither cared, or desired to put more thought to the entire little ordeal. In the long run it merely meant another potential enemy for herself and her plan. There would always be those that sought to govern and reign in their own means, bringing about democracy or demanding that they merely kneel. She though sought to free the denizens of the galaxy from all of that, and she saw such a solution within the Bando Gora. ​

​

Chaos...​

​

Pure and simple. ​

​

She had no need for Order, as it took advantage of the meek and those whom rose up the wealthy upon their backs. She had no need for laws and rules that governed what you could and could not do and that took the very essence of life from what it should be. No, for her Chaos was the key, and the first step was to look upon that chaos that the Bando Gora had wrought in their time. ​

​

Upon this world that she slowly drifted towards could even lay the key to that Chaos, hidden among the rocks and caverns. Perhaps buried within the very citadel that had once been its capital. The small smirk once more returned to her lips as she lay her hues upon the world, unflinching in their gaze. ​

​

[member="Watcher Three"]​

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]​

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]​

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Marmora"] [member="Corrin Tal'verda"] [member="Watcher Three"]

The Washburne and the Bebullab, not in company but simultaneously, sauntered down the grav well toward landfall on Gehenna, and Mara's raised eyebrow turned into a frown. Two taciturn captains, two beat-up old ships, neither with any legitimate reason to be here. Gehenna, the sources agreed, had no value to anyone but Dark Side cultists. Well, them and the kind of salvage crews that didn't mind sorting through radioactive, haunted, blood-soaked ruins at the risk of encountering the aftermath of sacrifice. The overlap between those two circles was non-negligible.

This wasn't GA territory, and she was ranging far afield; she knew that even before her copilot reminded her. That limited her mandate and her options. Comm relays were unreliable this far out, and absent armed backup, her odds if that Bebullab went hostile were pretty slim. The Washburne, at least, was unarmed -- at least if it was stock.

With a grimace, she hit the comms. "Unidentified vessels, you are entering quarantined territory. I say again, you are making landfall on a quarantined world." Something of a hollow warning; the Portectorate was long gone. "Your engine signatures have been noted."

She stretched out to the Force. Empathy was a strength of hers, both from training and from her mother's Zeltron genetics. Perhaps she could get a sense of the minds aboard those ships, and their intent.

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher smiled at the newcomer's official-sounding announcement. She sounded young, and it was possible that she didn't realize that a quarantine from a decade (or more) ago was invalid in practice, and possibly in writing as well. He opened the comm channel one more time before the Spyglass descended into the upper atmosphere.

"Your quarantine is unfortunately not recognized by either the Virgillian Defense Force or Typhoon Squadron, ma'am. Incidentally, you are more than welcome to my cruiser's energy signature. Unless you are with the One Sith, you'll be unable to press charges on me."

He took a breath, and then continued.

"If you are so interested in maintaining your defunct quarantine, I invite you to follow my ship. I will be the only crew member on the ground. Spyglass out."

With that, the channel closed and Watcher set about getting his gear ready. Jacket, katana, knives, pistol... done.

He was on his way.

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] [member="Marmora"]

 

[Marmora]

A single, almost silent voice filled the void. ​

​

"Get out..." ​

​

"Get Out...."​

​

"GET OUT!"​

​

Soon enough that single silent voice became a screaming tirade, a cacophony of voices clamoring upon one another to levy their own screams and demands. The voices twisted souls of what they had once been, though one stood out among the others, a booming whisper that she had not heard since the supposed defeat of that which had threatened the entire galaxy. A voice that sounded as Akala demanding, though she did not demand for the woman to leave. ​

​

"Come to us..." ​

​

"Join us..." ​

​

The voice started as a soft motherly whisper, reaching out from the darkness, and merely hearing that whisper brought a smile to the woman's twisted lips as her vessel continued on its way towards the planet below. Perhaps it was not the smartest thing that the young Zeltron reached out through the force. What empathy was there to find in this woman's twisted mind? ​

​

None.​

​

Nay a single strand of such thoughts remained, merely those whispers that clamored upon her mind and seemingly shielded it from others. Though if they were shielding for one reason or another was difficult in itself to say. There had been a few brazen enough to attempt to dig deeper into her mind, only for their own minds to go and corrode away as the whispers tore into their psychological being. Bringing her slender fingers up, she pressed the button, this time though she seemed not to care whom heard her words as it was opened to all vessel, though specifically for the woman whom had attempted such a dangerous process. ​

​

"That was foolish child. To glimpse into my mind even for a moment. Should you remain.... whole, I should congratulate you for not screaming in terror. Though if you are nothing more than a babbling brook, perhaps you may find your interest within the destruction of your own people." ​

​

The devilish grin grew, twisting slightly as the vessel began to shake and rattle as it tore through the atmosphere. Her eyes watching the flames streak along the vessel for a moment before it came barreling through the cloud covers. If her memory served her right, before they had become nothing more than another memory, the Omega Protectorate had attempted their own terra forming of the planet. Now as the vessel began to slowly move through the skies it became a mere matter of finding out if it held or was of any worth. ​

​

"There my friend. There it is." ​

​

Her hand came up as she pointed to a very specific marking that marred the otherwise pristine world of death and chaos. The mountain that had been torn from it had stood for countless ages and turned upon itself to destroy the life of millions whom called the world home. The smirk merely returned, never fading as she thought of the woman that had become a Goddess to those that she had destroyed, or at least those that had witnessed and survived. ​

​

"Such beautiful destruction. Should that woman have remained she could have easily lead the Bando Gora across the Galaxy. Though we do things for the mere simplicity, or for reasons that baffle others. Woman, children, personal gain. Perhaps she merely wanted to destroy without the followers singing her praises?" ​

​

Marmora loved to contemplate and postulate little questions about such events. She loved the memories that would flood into her mind as she thought upon the history of such places. More than anything, she would love to stand upon this world with the woman whom brought upon the death knell of these beings. ​

​

[member="Watcher Three"]​

[member="Corrin Tal'verda"]​

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]​

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]​

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Marmora"]

Mara muted [member="Watcher Three"] halfway through an inbound sneer. "That's quite enough of that," she said; her copilot, a lean Ithorian, nodded in commiseration.

Then turned to look at her as she went stiff at the controls.

She'd found much more than anticipated, that much was clear. Empathic connections were one of her strong suits, courtesy of a Zeltron mother and a good comprehensive Force education. Telepathy, actual words and images, not so much. Whatever was out there wasn't powerful, per se, not as such things were reckoned, but the mind out there had a peculiar forcefulness of will and intent. And, undeniably, a savage, condescending darkness. The rawness of the emotional stream poured into Mara and took her breath away. Words whispered through her mind, half-sensed and half-heard. Or less than half: she caught maybe one word in three. Telepathy was an unreliable art; a few words here or there were all to which most could aspire. Whole rants? Difficult. Taxing. Someone out there was committed.

Her jaw set as she came back to herself. She was sweating, she realized.

"The Dark Side is here. Bounce a comm to [member="Sarge Potteiger"]. I doubt he'll be in range to get out here, but he needs to know that several ships' worth of Dark Side cultists are poking around Gehenna. Toss in the IFFs and engine signatures. Oh, and attach the names Virgillian Defense Force and Typhoon Squadron in case they mean more to him than to me. And... comm my dad. See if he can pass this along to [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]." The one, the only - Mara had grown up on stories about the TK goddess saving her mother's life and helping her dad take down everything from Bando Gora to the droideka wedding.

The H-wing cutter arced into the atmosphere after the three descending ships.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Aside from the yearly birthday lunches and dinners, Sarge didn't much see his goddaughter, [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]. Part of that came from simply how busy he was, but part of it, too, was that she had her own life to live. In many ways, she was Sarge's only 'relative' in the entire galaxy. He was a solitary man in more ways than perhaps people realized. So when he got a message from her, especially one marked urgent citing 'several ships worth of Dark Siders,' well, he would be there.

After all, you didn't ask Sarge for help with ambiguities if you weren't hoping for overkill.

Which is how he'd found himself on the bridge of the Disciple of Twilight, an old but well cared for Solo-class vessel. They'd been prototype, once upon a time, and were one of Cater's few ships that didn't turn all of its guns into a battering ram for the great hypervelocity guns he'd so favored. That was why Sarge had chosen it - he could cover all avenues of attack with a single ship and it's complement of fighters, bombers and gunships.

Giving a nod of his head to the bridge crew, the stars elongated outside the viewports and the vessel snapped into hyperspace. Destination? Bando Gora territory. More aptly, former territory.

[member="Watcher Three"] [member="Marmora"]