Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The reign of terror(Open)

Neive stood at the bridge of Desolation, a battle cruiser brought back to use from the days of the clone wars. Although there were weak points on the ship's outside, it was functioning and its defenses were raised to combat any ship without permission to board. As the ship entered the orbit of Ryloth, a lower village was targeted. About 8,000 people in the village at the time, a couple of them coming and going for trade. However, Neive thought, trade would not be going on for very long, at least not the way it is now.
"Prepare my ship. And I want a squad to come with me. Have reinforcements ready in case of any resistance. " Neive walked towards the hangar bay as 8 ships were prepared. Neive had always made due with what he had to work with, and taking parts and ships from the scrapyards of Raxus prime was the perfect use of his abilities. The separatist cruiser, his own ETA 2 class interceptor, and 15 ARC 170's. His small army definitely wasn't pretty, but it was useful nonetheless.
Neive and 7 other ships exited the cruiser and departed for the planet, and for the small scale village lying on the planet surface.
While death and pain flew down from above, a group of Coalition masters had gathered in a small village on Ryloth. Stationed in a less than reputable venue they had all met for one reason. To celebrate the birth of one of their number. [member="Jorus Merrill"] was the man of the hour and no expense had been spared. The finest Corellian ale, sweetest wines and strongest spirits flowed like water from a mountain spring.

While the drunk ginger danced on stage with some of the Twi'lek entertainers a not so pias monk [member="Vorhi Alestrani"] meditated with a full glass of his favorite past time. Some even say a few others were around the most notable being [member="Joza Perl"] and her lovely Zelthon charms.

The all laughed and celebrated knowing little of the danger that sped their way on ARC 170 wings.

[member="Bryce Bantam"] | [member="NeiveUndant"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]

"Take it off!" Delila yelled to her fellow Ginger, Batman-something. Credit chip found its way out of her pocket and was tossed on stage as if to emphasize her point. Drink sloshed slightly in her hand as she settled back on the barstool. Being gone the last decade, no way was she going to pass up celebrating Merrills birthday. Especially now that he was some baby faced kid. Still couldn't get over that.

There was another catcall towards Bryce, a whistle from herself once more. Drink was downed and the glass hit the bartop, only to be filled once more by the bartender.
[member="Bryce Bantam"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] @delilah castillon [member="NeiveUndant"]

Drunk monk with a bit of funk? You bet your oversized hat, kids and kid-ettes! But semi-seriously, the oracle of the dead was reclining on a seat, not too far from the others, sipping on something that could best described as engine de-greaser with fruit juice. He sipped from his mug and chuckled. "Keep it up, red," he said to dancing man. "You might be half as flexible as me after a decade of training," he said with a chuckle. "Although redheads always were bad luck for me..." the strange grandmaster shook his head and sipped a bit more. Between Red and Jorus, he was now the "Old Man"...but he'd be damned rather than play at being the responsible adult among them.

He nodded to Delila. "Okay, I'm afraid I can't let you younglings upstage me. Another round?" A brow quirked behind the man's blindfold. This was going to be one hell of a night.

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