Public S P I D E R B I T E

[Domina Prime]

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Pop, crackle, war and hell unleashed appeared almost like fireworks in the sky; the stars above white like clusters of little maggots nesting inside a gangrene-black arm. The deafening whoosh and swoosh of aerial combat vessels engaging in sporadic and dangerously close air to air conflict as a disillusioned and wounded xeno reached up with bloodied hands, twisting her sharpened claws as if she could somehow conjure the light into her grip and squeeze the honey out of them. Starblood was trickling, cold as quicksilver and bright as mercury, out the corners of her mouth. Her feet were dragged now from all the running and stumbling and she realized that the longer she looked at the sky, the more it hurt her eyes, so she kept her gaze to the ground as the visage of her legs carrying her suddenly vanished.

"H-hey! KARK what have they been FEEDING you? Will someone help over here! She's karkin heavy man!" A child cried, no more than lad.

What had happened?

Vision in her right eye blurred, a warm crimson veil coating her sight in a darkness as blood trickled out the side of her head.

"Over here! Get down don't let the bombers see you!" Another called, older this one. But young himself, barely even a man as he adjusted his Mandalorian helm and rushed to join the younger foundling in his rescue attempt.

She needed to access what was going on...but the damage to her cranium had left Dima stunned and discombobulated. Right now, for her, the world was filled with colors and whimsy. Harmonious melodies singing to her ringing ears as other survivors from tragedy like roaches exited their hiding places to help the poor boy salvage the sluggish young woman with a face helm half shattered and destroyed. A low wheezing escaping her lungs.

"What happened up there!? Who attacked first!?" A woman shouted, the eldest warrior with a rifle strapped across her shoulder grabbing a frazzled and dazzled Dima and dragging her out of the dust covered streets and into a nearby underpass near a bridge. A number of other armed Mandos hiding out there as the woman ducked in with them and moved to aid her. "She's seen better days~" She called out, looking between the lot of them as an elder man. Fully grown beard with strange, cybernetic eyes examined Dimas face through her shattered helmet.

"Hard to say but whoever did this just started a bloody war! Representatives and liaisons from multiple factions and planets were at that summit so i'd say someone just kicked off the only excuse anyone needed to get nasty." The Elder broke the news, the inhabitants of this poor world all mostly comprising of people engaged in the timeless struggle of oppression and tyranny. Mandalorians caught inevitably in the middle due to contracts and promises made.

The sudden snap of fingers in front of five strange, alien eyes brought Dimas mind from the verge.

"Hey, hey now! Focus Dima, focusssss. How many fingers~?" One of the medics asked while peeling away the helm, Dimas expression twsiting into a cheerful grin as the alien giggled impishly at the question.

"Mmmn, heh, ahhhh...ummmm...all of them?" Dima sang before her mind dazed off again and she slumped against the wall. The medic made a face, glaring at the others.

"I think she was uhhh...IN the summit, just before the attack." One mando explained, causing the medic to scrunch her eyebrows together with a deep sigh.

"So she was in the building that collapsed? Good, nice, so she's useless? Ain't she supposed to be like, our Ace for these situations?" They quipped in frustration, Dima suddenly returning to some semblance of consciousness as one of her four arms lifted casually and her clawed hand slowly rested on the nape of her fellow mandos shoulder, a low cackling erupting from the xenos lips in delighted excitement.

"And to think you said that 'nothing fun' was going to happen~" Dima mused, the medic gasping and reaching out to flash a light into Dimas eyes, forcing them to dilate as the xeno suddenly flinched away and covered her face. "A-ahh! DIMAS EYES!" She hissed, rubbing against them rapidly as the medic looked back to the others to give them a gesturing nod.

"Alight boys we're back in business! Recover wounded and lets get busy! Yona, take lead, Mav, your on communications figure out what happened!" The medic commanded, Dima still recovering from the explosion that had previously leveled the summit building she was in. "Dima! Dima focus! Focus dammit! Did you see what happened?" They asked, Dima squinting through her previously blinded eyes and merely gesturing with her four hands.

"Yes, there was big big boom. Like, this big~" The childish alien lifted her hands as if to explain, the medic staring before shaking her head and standing to move on.

"Riiiiiiiiight...Double check those weapons we move in ten, assist civilians caught in the middle, watch your fire and avoid shooting anyone important~" Xarla wasted little time getting the unit back into order, where as Dima was finally carrying herself back to her feet among the chaos and confusion.

"Does this mean Dima does not get dinner?" The xeno asked rather innocently, clearly now fully understanding the weight of the situation unfolding around them even as blood trickled out the side of her head.

"Dima, sweetie, remember what we said? That AFTER we complete the contract, THEN we can go to Bespin. Then we can get you whatever you want to eat, you can see all the pretties and all that. But fiiiiiiiirst?" Xarla began, trying to convince a...mentally stunned Dima to behave if for a moment.

"Uhhhhgggg, FIIIIIIIINE!" Dima groaned, stepping past Xarla now with an agitated expression.

"Hey! It was YOU who was saying how 'quiet and boring' it's been and when something is finally popping off and you get BLOWN UP all you can think about is FOOD!? THERE IS BLOOD LEAKING OUT OF YOUR FACE!!" Xarla barked, causing Dima to make a surprised look before touching her claws to her face and when withdrawing it noticing her claws were indeed coated in blood.

"Ohhh! Xar look, Dima is WOUNDED!" Dima gasped in shock mixed with an audible amusement. Xarla slammed her palm directly into the visor of her helmet, shaking her head from the headache growing in her skull from having to deal with the childish alien girl.

"Ohhhhhhh you simple minded girl, C'mon!" Xarla grabbed one of Dimas hands and dragged her off with the others.

At this moment all the players with their thumb in the pie were likely to be making their moves all over, and the last place they wanted to be was in the streets during the inevitable crackdown and conflict to follow.

"Oh well, ok then! Hey Xar, do we know who did the big boom? Godlings perhaps?" Dima giggled in anticipation as she followed along passively.

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[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

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Well, this was a bit of a pickle. There he was, strolling along the city streets, in simple everyday black leather garb rather than any armor like some Mandalorian looking for war. No, he was just a pedestrian, if not a resident or a citizen of this planet. Yet, he had business and, although it wasn’t entirely innocent, he didn’t think he was deserving of having a bridge collapse on him.

The blast had been at his back, but the impact had shattered duracrete where debris rained down on the ground. The explosion was loud, to understate it, followed by the blasterfire of starships fighting one another further above, but all that echoed between his ears was the drum.

That pounding of blood. It beat like a hammer’s swing, rang like a gong, on and on, buzzing like a thousand flies swarming around corpses. Corpses. It was all he could think as he looked left and right, side to side, spotting bodies beside his feet: dead men and women. Unfortunate.

For them, at least. For him, well, that was another story. He was crouched in the middle of a room, or a makeshift chamber, rather; whatever kind of circle it was that his hands had formed. It was a dome, a shield, but soon it would be broken, and he would be killed.

All around, the rubble of one structure or another surrounded him, begging to be let in. Instants passed by, but those were moments that he could not afford to waste. He did not delay. He was strong, the Force was stronger, but neither could hold up the makeshift dome forever, so the man dove from the cover.

A cacophony of duracrete, glass and metal smashed as the rubble suddenly collapsed, no longer held back by the bubble from the man’s fingertips. He was now on his back, his gaze to the sky. The bridge, apparently still standing, was on his right. Yet, he looked up, spotting fighters and bombers attacking one another and— Crap.

Any moment and there could be another explosion so he got up. To his left, in the near distance, others were moving, escaping, fleeing from the chaos. Mayhem, one may say, was what he played with, yet Drane T’keen found this battlefield to be a little uneven, his ground position out of his element. So he fled.

He didn’t really know what happened. He hadn’t been terribly privy to the politics. He had simply been walking while lost in thought about how to use three chopsticks that the restaurant he visited had taught him. It tried to, anyway, and Drane, while not exactly an idiot, was distracted when the building had blown up behind him.

Whatever, that was another matter to learn of later. Right now he had to discover a way out; a way through the madness past the blast’s impact radius. The summit seat exploding into smithereens clearly meant something like terrorism and factions attacking, if the aerial combat was anything to go by, but right now this guy just had to fly.

Civilians on the left. “I can’t find my mother!” A young boy said. “Get into cover!” She’s probably dead. Better left unsaid but Drane didn’t have time to waste saving children. In a situation like this, trying to save anyone meant you may end up saving no one because you were dead.

Dead ahead was a Mandalorian if not more of them. Black T. That was a Mandalorian visor all right. The Sith knew enough about this planet to know how Mandalorians were hired by either side. And potentially they know what in the hell this is all about. They were any survivor’s best bet for information.

Drane held a modest jog toward them. One figure looked taller than the other. A woman screamed just then. Then another. Then a man. Nameless souls of random folks who failed to get into cover from the blasterfire that suddenly rained down from overhead.

Whether it was from the sky or a rooftop, Drane wasn’t certain in that instant, but as attackers began gunning, he began running. The streets erupted in an epitome of chaos in a heartbeat, as the game of carnage kicked off.

Domina Prime

 

[Jay Williams]

Sith. Jedi. It did not make one lick of sense to Jay Williams, a Narrikian why the two groups had so many differences between them. Light and Darkness were not meant to be used as an excuse for the frankly heinous actions of those who supported either division in the Force. Really, he didn't see a point in either of the sects, and would be one of the first to proclaim himself a staunch neutral. Neither light, nor dark, Jedi, or Sith appealed to him. As he watched the explosions from the inside of his ship, he sighed, as he began strapping on his armor. While most would assume his armor was Mandalorian, he knew it was not. From the hand-forging of the armor pieces, to the Sasori Tech and other pieces of equipment, everything inside of the armor was his, and his alone. Exiting his ship on a Speederbike, as it had been parked at a nearby dock, he made his way there rapidly.

Either way he'd need to recruit members to bring about the Corsair Alliance, his goal. A way to end the bad blood between Yin and Yang, Light and Dark, Ashla and Bogan, whatever you wanted to call it.