The Times, They Are A Changin... [Corellian League Rebellion of Corellia]

[Julius Sedaire]

Rebellion Of Corellia​

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Location: The Rusty Spanner Cantina, Coronet City, Corellia​

Objective: Aimin to misbehave​

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OOC THREAD​

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Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DiWxcilWtU​

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"So what was it like back then? Before they came? Was the planet really whole? Were we really free?"

Julius looked at the young man in front of him and sighed, sipping the whiskey in the rocks glass at his hand. The Rusty Spanner wasn't his favorite haunt, their whiskey was middle-shelf at best. But they were loyal to Corellia and the League, and the owner would let him drink for free. Whiskey was whiskey, and it still burned and dulled the ache in his soul as he thought back. The kid was looking at him like he was some kind of long-lost hero returned to life from the Clone Wars or something. Looking at him like he was missing something and maybe Julius had the answer to it and all the other wrongs of the Galaxy.

"It was a different time, for sure kid... We aren't so bad off as the rest of the One Sith worlds, thanks to ATC and @Danger Arceneau... But this isn't Corellia... The sky used to be as much of our home as the earth here... Beautiful beaches... Some of the best whiskey and not half-bad gin. When you needed something flown, something smuggled, or something done that others said was impossible. We were mighty of the Galaxy... Free as the wind, until we let our guard down. Now we lick boots and pray for another day..."

The boy, sandy-haired with brilliant blue eyes, looked at Julius slightly confused, his pre-teen face scrunched in concentration. He wanted to understand, and there was a flicker of mischief and fire in those blue eyes that reminded Julius of himself, or Cal, or any number of the other Corellians that remembered life before the occupation. A fire that some said made Corellians have rocket fuel for blood. A fire that others said made his people all unequivocally insane. It pained Julius to see others in the street walking past that had that fire snuffed out. Hunched shoulders, dead eyes, cowering glances. After the raid, things had gotten worse it seemed.

Something else pressed at him, and he extended senses, filling his awareness with his surroundings, and let the Force speak. And then he smiled broadly at the kid, laughing as he crossed his ankles on the white linen tablecloth of the little outside patio table the boy had found him at. Kid could use the Force, or could be taught to. Something in him stirred then, a fire of his own rekindling. He could sit here, playing cat and mouse and acting like he was important. Or he could do something, and give truth to the old stories.

"But you know what kid? It'll be alright... You can't keep us down. Someday, times will come around and there won't be no boot on our throat keeping us there. Time flies. And so do we.."

He drained the whiskey with a fond sigh, smacking his lips a bit and jerked his legs back, planting boots on the table rim and kicked back, landing his boots on the ground and standing. With a twitch of his arms, he brought the soft bantha hide jacket, brown leather, up onto his shoulders, and stepped out from the shadows. Bloodstripes on his pants already marked him out as someone who didn't like the Sith on this planet. No one else wore them. But as the light hit his face, the kids eyes grew, and Julius smiled.

A finger to his lips to indicate silence, he glanced at his chronometer on his wrist and sighed, reaching into his pocket of his jacket. A battered transponder, that looked like it was taped together on the antenna, was pulled out. He pressed the button in its' center, the only noticeable feature other than a strip of dark black LED stripping. Lights began blinking on it, and almost immediately afterwards traffic in the street seemed to pick up.

The careful observer would note old issue blasters and CorSec armor, not the standard Sith Trooper or ATC personnel gear. Though some of the latter was mixed in with the CorSec gear. None of the former. The Green Jedi smiled at the boy, and dropped the transponder back into his pocket, digging out a coin made out of bloodsteel, set with gems on the edges, and flipped it to the kid, who caught it and stared at the upraised symbol on it in awe. The sigil of the Green Jedi. A Jedi Credit made by [member="Micah Talith"] himself, alchemized and imbued even.

"Times are changin, m'boy... And we'll need everyone today... Show that to someone in a CorSec uniform, they'll take care of you."

With that, his coat swaying slightly in the small breeze, Julius walked off humming into the swelling crowd that seemed to be moving all the same direction down the street, towards the hastily fortified 'Directors Building' at the center of the City. Weapons could be seen on people who hadn't held weapons in what might have been years. And in the eyes of every man and woman, and in some cases child, was a fire the same as in his blue-greys. All across the Galaxy, via old Alliance Channels, League Channels, and even ATC and Undergound comms and select Mandalorian frequencies, the sigil of the Corellian League would fuzz in sporadically, overwriting other traffic and message. A beacon and a call for aid.

It was time. With or without its' allies, Corellia would suffer her dictators no more.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJlN9jdQFSc

 

[Jsc]

Prologue
Between Elysium and Corellia

The OS sensor-net picked up the hyperspace distortions early.

Incoming hostile vessel into Corellian space. Nay. Two of them. One right after the other. The first signal belonged to a rock rigged with a Type 4 Hyperdrive and busted CSF drive system. Naturally, it was interdicted first. Pfft. Child's play really. The rock was blown to smithereens inside the OS mine field by a pair of gravity bombs. The first bomb triggered the gravity well that pulled the massive stone out from Lightspeed. Then. The second bomb blew it into a million pieces. Kaboom.

Samantha's X-Wing R came next. She dropped out of Lightspeed just a fraction of a second before she hit the mine field. Only a hair's breath away from where she had lost the first Hyperdrive's signal. Then she started shooting. The gravity mines exploded one by one until a clear path had been made for her vessel. Home sweet home. She had pierced the OS cloud,

She was in.

...

It took the OS only three minutes to dispatch their first picket vessel. A fast attack slope. A gunship and an alarm against the immediate failure of their interdiction net. Damn. Usually the mine field did the job. Must have been a smaller vessel then. Bigger ships attract more mines. More than can be shot down, anyway. It was always the small ships that got through. No. It didn't matter. Infiltration was a Sith specialty. They knew the weaknesses in there systems. Mine fields are cheap anyway. No. They could do this the old fashioned way.

The Sith patrol boat moved into a combat posture as it approached the breach and began the skirmish. Alas. The fight took less than three minutes.

The OS picket vessel was blown to smithereens on the near edges of the Corellian System Mine Field. But not before a data profile could be pulled from the invading vessel and transmitted back to base. OS command got the read out almost immediately after they lost their picket ship's transponder. It was an X-Wing. That old, old enemy. An X-Wing had shot down their patrol boat. Damn. The configuration was indeed custom and unlisted to record. Even in the Imperial Archives. ...Still. What did that matter. It was just one ship. One ship that could die easily. Numbers always counted for something during a Fleet engagement. One ship was nothing. No. This wouldn't take long. One ship was little more than an inconvenience.

Let them come.


The Present
Corellian Mine Field - Elysium Zone

...But she did not come.

Sam Rivers pulled up on the stick and spun around to admire the debris. The Sith patrol slope was history. That gave her... What? Seven minutes until the Sith could send another ship. Maybe.

Had to act fast.

She opened up the Hyperspace Channel back to Republic Space. Transmitted the proper coordinates as her X-Wing Recon computed the math from this side of the field. When her ship was done with the computations, she sent the reply. Then waited for the bomb to arrive. And yeah. It did. And boy was it accurate.

The bomb was just another rock too. An asteroid of immense size armed with a Type 2 Hyperdrive and a salvaged KYD drive system. Huge. Colossal. Big. Mega'ssive. Yes. These are the words that described the rock that appeared right in the middle of the OS mine field. Interdicted by the gravity bombs just like a good little mine field was supposed to do. Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!

The explosions were beautiful. A rock of that size must have detonated at least a hundred of the pesky Sith gravity mines. Nay. A thousand of them. Blowing a wide, wide hole in the Sith defense net. A gaping hole. A wonderful hole. A big, beautiful doorway past the mines. And all it had cost the Resistance was a few hundred thousand credits and a pair of stolen Hyperdrive systems. Not a bad way to throw a great red brick threw the Sith's glassy little window. Heh,

A window to Corella.

...

"This is Escort Seven to base. Mission successful. Doors to the party are open boys. Mine field in sector 301 is neutralized. OS response in this sector in... Five minutes. Mark."

She smiled against the vastness of space,

"Anybody who wants to party? Coordinates are code green. Come on in."

Send in the Calvary.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yv_npN_0B8​

Sandy hair, check.

Pre-teen... eh, depending on if we're counting in Anzat years or not.

Blue eyes? No, his were more of a grey.

However, while he might not have been the kid that [member="Julius Sedaire"] was talking to, it seemed that the incorrigible youngling knight wasn't the only half-pint hanging out in the Rusty Spanner. Which, was kind of incredible when you think about it, because if the whisky was middle shelf then we don't want to talk about the watered down, flat swill they had the audacity to call Fizzyglug. Seriously, even the chips were kinda meh.

Now, back before the Clone Wars, there had been a cantina on the corner of 14th and Farnham in Bela Vistal called the Buffler's Halt. Malted milkshakes. Pub food that would make you lose your mind. And kids ate free on Wednesdays.

Those were the good ol' days.

"Ladies, ladies, please..."

Shuffling around in his seat, the small Anzat was standing on his knees in a chair that was turned around backwards. Leaning over the back, the tow-headed youngling had just laid down a hand of twenty-two, beating the surly herglic whose massive form dominated the small Sabaac table where a young vampire, giant space whale, and one confused looking Sullustan were playing cards.

Gesturing with both hands, the human-like child made an effort at calming the ill-tempered rumblings of the two malcontents, before leaning over the table in order to scoop the winning toward the growing pile of credit chips that rested in front of the little card-shark.

"Your money's both pretty," the boy opined, flashing an innocent smile even as he picked up the card-chips and began shuffling them around. "No, seriously, this game is just about bluffing and timing. You just gotta play your hand at the right moment."

Dealing the card-chips around the table, the boy's legs slid out from under him as he planted his butt down on the chair. Looking around the table, he quite innocuously asked, "Another hand?"

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

She'd picked a fine time to come home.

Well, insomuch as it could be called that, when she hadn't set foot on it in more than a decade. The Sith occupation, the breaking of the world and the sowing of it all back together could not bring her back; the curious message that had finally reached her, a death-activated release of an inheritance that she had come to be more than certain of never seeing, pulled her right into the pit of grief that the breaking of Corellia first put her in, and she crawled out of only to be subject to the loss of the only other being she had been even remotely close to in the past many years - one Lucien Cordel. That message almost did more damage than good, but she was tired; tired of running from what she was, tired of having those and that which she loved taken from her.

Between invested earnings and the inheritance of credits and capital, she was far more well-off than most she surreptitiously laid eyes on in the Rusty Spanner, but didn't look the part, coming across as every bit the spacer she lived as. Her roots in this place were by now buried deep, but she never forgot them or the role they played in her self-exile as a fresh-faced, idealistic girl of eighteen, nor the blood that was spilled then, or a further decade before. She caught on to a conversation between a sandy-haired boy, and an older, dark-haired man that seemed to have ideals of his own, and listened in. Maybe he owned that twinge she'd felt that brought her all the way to this specific cantina, but there was no knowing for certain with all the other bodies in the place. Either way, she was drawn in by his words, and when he left, she didn't quite jump up to follow.

At least, not until she saw more and more people passing by. The thought of losing track of the guy put a knife in her hesitation. She downed the last gulp of her drink, shrugged on her jacket, and made a bee-line for the door. Outside, she couldn't make him out through the growing crowd, but they were all heading in the same direction, and she who had never been one to do so decided to go with the flow.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Elysium
Command Deck of the Drahr

Draco whistled to himself, sitting in the Command Salon alone. The Bridge of the Kandosii-class Dreadnought was busy, but for now, nothing really was happening. Six Light years away from Elysium a small group of Mandalorian ships sat quietly, using close beam messaging to communicate with each other as necessary. Some of the crews had taken to playing games while they waited on yellow alert, running at quiet one.

The Warlord sat waiting watching holovids while recon vessels went along to see what the war had in store for them today. So far, everything was fine. The stars were shining, the One Sith and the Galactic Republic were collapsing under their own weight, and the Mandalorian Clans were thriving once again.

"Hey, vod. Does anyone know who is supposed to contact us?" He asked, calling into the corridor through the open door. A black armored warrior turned slightly and peered into the command salon where Draco was sitting, his feet up on a tactical display, the light from the holoscreen being the only thing illuminating the room. "Uh... I dunno boss." He murmured through his helmet.

"I know Sklor can't tell me anything but there has to be one Farseer on the ship. Maybe that shaman can tell us things that aren't circular prophesies." Draco said, sitting up and swinging his feet to clank on the deck.

"I would expect Garrick to be the Farseer." The warrior clicked a few buttons and waited for a response over the private comms. "He's on his way up now."

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Sam Rivers"]

 

[Taeli Raaf]

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Selinica Miriya Cailis"] [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] [member="Sam Rivers"]

Location: Outside Coronet City
Objective: ?

"I'm sorry I never really got the chance to see this place before," Taeli said, sitting at the edge of a cliff. The sun was starting to rise on Corellia, a world that had been under the shadow of the One Sith Empire for several years now. "Corvus told me about this place, but she never really had time to show me where it was... and Melori never wanted to come back here. Painful memories and all of that. I'm glad it survived the Akala crisis and the breaking of the world... it wouldn't have done to see your memory wiped away."

She turned to look at the small row of headstones next to her, with one of the headstones having Corvus's name carved into it but the grave was empty. It would remain empty... because her sisters were still missing, but she assumed now that she was the last one.

"I remember when the planet was taken by the One Sith, I was there among them," she continued saying, once again going back to watching the sun rise higher. "I remember the devastation, the slaughter, the oppression. It was a rush to take the land the Republic lost when everything went to hell and back, a wave of conquest... and I'm glad you all weren't alive to see it. I wish we had the chance to meet, but it wouldn't have been on good terms back then... but I'm going to make amends for it."

Her datapad beeped, but she didn't need to look at it to know what it was. The dawn was rising.

"I'll be back... sometime," she said, getting to her feet and stretching her back. With that said, she began walking away from her family's graves and heading for the city.

 

[Bryce Bantam]

Cnet City - Slums
Allies: Forces of Freedom
Enemies: One Sith (Boooo)

The Starr had just set down when the One Sith patrols came to meet the Bryce. Her normal TKO Search and Rescue colors had been struck for something befitting a more neutral medical ship. Posing as a civilian aid ship the H-wing had experienced "engine troubles" on final approach and landed short of the more heavily guarded hangers within the city. Crowds of desperate people began to crowd around, many holding up sick or injured loved ones. As the patrol approached the trooper within the transport barked out orders for the crowds to disperse.

Bryce just ignored them as they approached and instead went into the crowd. He passed out food and water, and was organizing the infirm into categories so they could be treated from most needing to least. The Troopers seemed to be displeased by the captain's lack of respect and were with weapons drawn, looking to get his attention. Bryce could feel them coming even through the massive throng of people but did not break cover, not yet. He was waiting biding his time.

All at once the one sith transport began to lift into the air, as it did the partol's leader stopped and began to signal over to the confused driver as to why he was attempting to leave. In the confusion that followed, Bryce sprung into action. Bolts of green light danced from his great saber and it came to life in his hands. With the speed and skill of a rogue knight, Bryce leaped into action and quickly stunned the troopers nearest to him. Confusion gripped the crowd but Bryce ignored all but his targets, jumping and slashing each one by one till all soon lay incapacitated on the ground.

"Sady, you can put the transport down now." Bryce said into his commlink before deactivating and turning off his lightsaber.

As his faithful astromech used the tractor beams aboard his ship to lower the One Sith transport back down Bryce leaped upon it and looked out to the crowd.

"The day is at hand, people of Corellia. You have seen the signs, symbols of you past flashing upon view screens and comm signals. The free people of your great world are rising. Let that hot Corellian blood you are so famous for boil, for too long as it cooled in your veins. Look upon you wives, husbands, children and see how they suffer. To that I say suffer no more!.."

Those who need care I come to give it freely as a friend of Corellia. Those who wish for freedom, I come with the means to win it back!"

As Bryce's voice trailed off cargo droids carrying, food, water, and stun weapons began to descend from the Starr's cargo ramp.

"Come, dress your wounds so you hurt no longer. Take food and water so you need not hunger or thurst. But most of all take the means to fight for your people for on this day they rise and say in one voice, FREEDOM!"

 

[Nikola Ticon]

Location: Coronet City
At first Nikola hadn't believed it. Most people wouldn't. It was nearly impossible to believe that Corellia was going to be free again, but he'd been aware of the plan just as the others had, even if the exact details were fuzzy. An underground network had been arranged right under the noses of the Sith, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't remind him of similar stunts his family had pulled back when their crime empire had still been standing tall. But this time the power operating was a ragtag system established by Corellian freedom fighters exhausted of living under the rule of the Sith. They had always been a rebel world, and now was the time to remind the galaxy of just what that meant.

Now, it took a bit to keep his attention for any extended period of time. He had always been the sort to jump from subject to subject as they held his interest, never quite stopping long enough to take everything in as well as he probably should have. But a taking back of his homeworld, well. That was enough to forcibly seize anyone's attention and hold it in place. The moment the transmission was sent out he was on his feet, rummaging around and preparing himself for the fight ahead. As far as attire went his dress was casual, with only a blast vest worn for any kind of armor. Weaponry came in the form of a lightsaber, pistol, and blaster carbine, relatively standard issue, especially as far as his bloodline was concerned. This wasn't the first time he had participated in guerrilla warfare, but it was the first time he could remember actually looking forward to the fight.

By the time the crowds were well and truly stirred up he was on the streets, searching for both a familiar face and anything that drew his immediate focus. Momentarily a presence sparked on his senses in that he had detected it lingering on his sister's aura a time or two, and bright blue eyes scanned the crowd looking for the source. Eventually his gaze settled on [member="Julius Sedaire"], and he pushed his way through the throngs of people in order to approach the man, not bothering with a greeting. If this one new the Ticons, he likely recognized one of their brood on sight. "Y'know, my sister told me about you," He cast a sideways glance towards him, flashing crooked smile, "Said you were a real pain sometimes, but a good friend. Nice to finally meet you, Sedaire."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Cinnagar, Empress Teta
One Week Ago

“Rrrawk! As I live and nest, Zark fraggin Pulsar!”

The small bell he had triggered shoving open the rusty shop door had hardly finished tinkling when already the proprietor was bustling out of the back room as if no time had passed at all, and for a moment Zark felt embarrassed for wondering if the peculiar Rishii would even remember his face. Glancing around, his eyes widened in appreciation as he realized that the little corner shop had hardly changed at all in the past five years.

“Good to see you too, Kingsley,” he grinned, ruffling the odd man’s feathers before a talon slapped him away.

“Good to see you too, Kingsley,” the Rishii echoed, his voice suddenly a perfect copy of Zark’s.

“Stop that! You know I hate that! I’ve told you I hate that!”

Kingsley wasn’t the avian’s real name, Zark had heard it once before on a night he had gotten the shopkeeper particularly drunk, but the parts that were pronounceable by human vocal chords had been obliterated from his memory by the alcohol. During his time on the fringes he had made all sorts of strange acquaintances, but none quite held a candle to the peculiar proprietor of the antiques and rare collectibles shop, Kingsley & Kingsley.

One of a handful of Coreward contacts he had cultivated in his twenties, nothing about the shop exterior stood out from any other in the vast, sprawling cityscape, but Zark knew from experience that Kingsley had one of the keenest eyes and appreciation for everything from art history to ancient coin collecting this side of the Rim. Not only that, but somehow the Rishii had sweet talked his way into a deal with several institutions in the area as an acquisitions specialist.

“Been too long, Pulsar!” the collector crowed behind him as he bustled back into the back of the shop, “You know I heard, rrawk! some gonzo rumor about yous not too long ago. Some nut job came in here tryin to tell me you had gone legit! Took some cushy...commission with the Galactic Alliance!”

“Fraid so,” Zark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, having forgotten just how shrewd and well connected his old friend could be, despite his species’ reputation.

“Say it ain’t so!” Kingsley looked crestfallen for a moment, then his beak curled back up into his usual cheerful expression, “Don’t get me wrong, GA pride and all that! But you were, rrawk! one of us, my boy! It’s a shame to see a promising young acquisitions specialist like yourself move on.”

“I’m not exactly young anymore, Kinglsey,” he replied, placing his satchel gingerly on the counter between them, “And speaking of moving on…”

“Rrrawk, aha! So it’s business that brings you back to me after all!” the Rishii rubbed his talons together in glee, carefully removing the relics from their protective wrappings, “You know, you and the GA ain’t so crazy. Not as crazy as this other rumor I heard about a year back that you had gone completely off the reservation and was crewin up some pirate killer in the Outback, workin escort jobs for the Underground. I tells these guys, I tells em, rrawk! you don’t know the Zark I know.”

I really need to start using different aliases, he thought to himself, glad the appraiser was too focused down the lens of his binoculars to notice his terrible poker face.

“Ahhhh….latter Old Republic era, I’d say. And this, rrawk! you don’t see too many of these around anymore, things being what they are. Yes my friend, I think we can make a modest deal. At your usual cut rate?”

Zark nodded. It had never been about the credits for him, he had only taken enough to keep him traveling and fund his research.

“S’why I love working with you, friend!” the shopkeep glanced down once more at the small collection before him, “Might take me a while to move them. Not a lot of local demand, and the regional market these days…”

“You kidding me, Kingsley? I mean, the museums on Corellia alone would jump at the chance for some of this stuff.”

“And if there was any business to be done with Corellia, maybe that’d, rrawk! change things. But nothing’s going in, and nothing’s comin out, most everyone with sense has already gone to ground until things blow over.”

“What are you talking about, until what blows over?”

“Go nest in a river, fed,” Kinglsey sniffled, crossing his arms in mock indignation. One look at the stony expression on Zark’s face, and he chuckled nervously, “Alright, there’ve been whispers…”

The more the Rishii talked, the darker Zark’s expression grew. A part of him felt guilty, the possible liberation of the Corellian people having such a negative effect on him. But then he remembered the look on Corso’s face when he had left him to die, the Blood Ruby in hand. Kingsley began to trail off, shrewdly intuiting the cause of his old friend’s distress.

“Hey, rrawk! you don’t think…” he began, then stopped, “Come on, Zarko, you don’t even know if he’s still alive!”

“He’s alive,” Zark said, already headed for the city streets outside, “And he’s headed for New Coronet, if he’s not there already.”

“And so are you, I take it,” Kingsley called out to the human’s back, “Well, nice to see ya. Don’t almost die this time! Ya karkin fool…”


Several Kilometers Outside New Coronet, Corellia
Present Day

“I don’t understand, how did you get your own cruiser?! Does Alliance command know you are such a terrible pilot?!”

Grunting in effort and frustration, the two of them finally managed to force the shuttle exit the rest of the way open, and they collapsed down the embarkation ramp as smoke billowed out behind them, the rest of the recon team streaming out behind them coughing. Zark gasped through his rebreather, equally annoyed and happy to be alive.

“They are different skillsets!” he said, “See if I volunteer for a suicide mission to liberate your homeworld next time, I told you anything under five minutes was going to be tight!”

“Yeah, tight!” Colonel Hal Varik shot back, “You didn’t say it meant ‘oh force no we’re gonna crash’!”

“It was an emergency landing!”

“You missed the city…”

“Only slightly!”

“And landed in an unterraformed wasteland.”

“So you agree it was a landing!” Zark grinned in triumph.

Scowling at first, slowly Varik began to laugh too. The two agreed, regardless, they’d have to buy whoever was behind the stick of Escort Seven a drink for providing them the window of opportunity, even if they hadn’t been entirely successful in eluding all of the One Sith pickets. On the horizon, he could make out the black smoke cloud that was the patrol craft’s wreck. Wincing, he looked at the state of his Flarestar-class attack shuttle and tried not to think about how close they had come to switching places with their pursuers.

“We should move before they send out a ground patrol,” Varik said, placing his hand on Captain Pulsar’s shoulder, “Sorry about your ship.”

“Don’t give up on her yet,” Zark replied, taking stock of the Galactic Alliance special forces squad in plain clothes around him, Corellian born all save him, “Electromagnetic interference in the wasteland out here plays havoc with their sensors, and she’s got some cover. They may never find her at all.” I'm coming back for you, he thought privately.

“Cover, eh?” Hal grinned, loading the BTI-CC13 rifle he carried in his hands, “You mean the cliff ridge you crashed next to?”

“Landed next to, yes.”

“Sure thing. Alright, who’s thirsty? The good Captain’s gentlemen colleagues in the Galactic Alliance Navy will be in the void overhead soon-like, and I know a good bar in the city. Come on, double time it!”

They had made it a kilometer when Varik nudged an already breathless Zark, showing him a datapad. At first, the Captain was confused, but then he saw a flicker that caught his eye. Taking the datapad, he looked down at it as he ran, and the second time he saw it for what it was.

The symbol of the Corellian League. It had already begun.

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: Arriving
It was impossible not to recognize the image of her homeworld, and all Keira could do for a few moments was study the beacon intently as if it held the answers to all the questions in the known galaxy. By all Nine Hells... There were but a minuscule handful of people that had her private contact information, but once Corellia was brought into the picture there was no question as to who was the origin of this message. She hadn't spoken to Julius since their first meeting in what had likely been more than a year, and now he was calling for a rebellion back home. Home. That was a term she had only ever really applied to Corellia, and even then rarely. But now she was going back, and this time it seemed her and her people were there to stay.

"Thalia, we're heading out." After a few moments the hologram of the AI emitted from the holoprojector on the table, cutting out the transmission already in place. Her arms were crossed, a brow raised, "Back home again? Are you going to show me around this time like you promised?" There was a lilting, teasing tone to her voice. "We'll see once we hit groundside. Expect trouble. The call wouldn't have gone out beyond the borders if they weren't anticipating something bigger than them." There was a quiet sigh from Thalia, but at this point the AI was far from surprised. "I'll pull up the databases and send a ping back that you're en route. Get yourself ready and find a transport." She couldn't help but crack a smile as the other took charge. "Oh, you're on my side for once. That's new." A roll of the eyes. "Don't get used to it."

The hologram winked out, and the graphic of Corellia maintained itself for a few more seconds before sparking out. Sighing quietly her eyes slid shut, and she rubbed her hands over her face, eyes opening and casting a glance about the room for a few seconds. Her dark gaze settled on her armor, roving over its battle-scarred surface, and she pushed herself to her feet. Calloused fingertips traced over the surface, and she sighed again before beginning the process of assembling the armor on her own form, gathering her weapons and arming herself to the teeth. Briefly she held the First Blade in a loose grasp, looking down on it almost wistfully. This single weapon held the memories of everything, though she had learned through much trial and error to suppress the full effect of the nexus and allow to supplement her strength, and nothing more.

Soon enough the saber was clipped at her waist next to her primary blade, tomahawk on the opposite hip. The Kalso's Revenge was holstered on her right leg, CW-77 on her left forearm, combat knife sheathed horizontally across the small of her back. For a moment all she did was stand there in the center of the room, gathering her wits about herself, pulling her helmet on over her head and blinking in order to activate the HUD. Eventually she made her way to the hangar. A few hours passed, and they broke out of hyperspace over Corellia. "Land us in Coronet provided you can find a clear landing zone." There was no response, and instead the transport landed after a few minutes, settling into the dirt on the city outskirts. Stepping outside, it was then she opened communications with [member="Julius Sedaire"], "You rang?" A beat passed. "I'll be making my own way through the city. Feel free to point me towards any resistance. Oh, and Nik will be joining you. He's the better of the Ticons."

 

[Zef Halo]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pu5kfeapEA​

​

Allies: Credits
Location: Coronet City outskirts.
Enemies: The Corellian Insurgents/Rebels
Objective: Looking for an opponent.

The battle for Corellia had begun. Not that Halfdan cared much. He had been hired to spill blood. The more blood he spilled, the more silver he was going to receive. The unrealistically large figure of the Valkyri warrior made its way through the streets along with a dozen One Sith troopers. What he understood was that due to the recent turn of events, the morale had been shaken amongst those fighting for the One Sith. A lot had deserted their ranks to join the Galactic Alliance and fight their own brothers.

Heresy. Punishable with death in Valkyri tradition. Brothers did not shed the blood of brothers. The galaxy, in Halfdan's opinion, was a really large, massive poodoohole.

That didn't matter here to him, though. It was not Midvinter and he was not fighting any of his brothers. Just other people who had less credits than the people he was going to shed blood for. His fellow Valkyri compatriots had always told them - ' There's nothing in your head but blood and silver, Halfdan.' They weren't completely wrong with that but let's face it - only the Heavenshields were as noble as they could get. Valkyri were warriors. Blood and silver was something that more or less went with that 'moniker'.

Halfdan was certainly a person who stood out from the crowd. Not only due to his massive size that rarely could anyone in the galaxy rival but his primitive clothing full of fur that covered his rather makeshift armor. An axe and a shield rather than a blaster and a helmet, the Valkyri certainly seemed as if he was a random time traveler. Some might laugh, others would underestimate and that would be their mistake. Valkyri were as great as warriors as one could find. It was in their traditions, in their culture and in their blood.

Their short excursion finally found enemies, those that apparently defied the rule of the One Sith. When fire was opened, both sides were startled at the roar that came out of Halfdan's mouth. The man charged forward, back hunched and his round shield covering as much as it could of him. His movements were hectic rather than straightforward and the Valkyri soon slammed his shield into an insurgent then took his arm off with the axe. And onto the next one.

 

[Daiya]

Inside the Rusty Spanner was just about as bad as the outside. Peeling wall decor and mismatched furniture told the story of years of scrounging and barely meeting ends, but the lack of an empty seat at the bar counter made it clear that even run-down, the little establishment was going nowhere. The clientele was typical, old spacers and locals who barely looked up from their drink as the pair entered the place. Nevertheless, they could feel eyes on them, watching their every move, and the blasters in open display gave no doubts as to how a wrong step would play out.

"How about you stay here? You're a little conspicuous, Tawrro," the young girl muttered to her companion as she placed a hand on his shaggy pelt. The large Wookiee beside her scoffed, at least the Wookiee equivalent, but she simply tossed her blonde locks and stepped away, heading for the counter. Their contact said he'd be waiting for them there, and the counter was as good a place as any to look casual while feeling the crowd. Her years of—

The girl had barely taken two steps when she felt a large, furry hand grasp her arm, holding it firm even as she pulled against it. Leaning down and speaking low, the warble of Tawrro's speech synthesizer caught on and lowered its volume as he said, "As conspicuous as a little girl at the bar?"

"I'm not little!" the teen girl cried in protest, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice low enough. A few faces could be seen as they glanced in their direction, and with her point deflated, she stopped struggling. Letting her arm go limp at her side, she stopped, and turned to the massive Wookiee. "Fine, we'll do it your way," the girl snapped as she freed her arm with a sharp pull, rubbing the area that now displayed a large red mark from the Wookiee's massive hands. Even gentle, his hands could maim. She tossed her head defiantly, announcing to him, "I'll just go sit at the kid's table."

Her remark was made clear as she made her way towards a table occupied by a game of Sabaac. Despite the hulking figures dominating the seats, the teen moved behind a small boy who was seated backwards on a chair. She shook her head as her eyes rolled, ignoring his posture as she leaned over the boy's shoulder as he dealt. A glimmer from the corner of her eye made the girl blink towards the bar counter, where Tawrro was leaning as casually as a Wookiee could. He raised his drink, tipping it ever so slightly across the room.

As her eyes traveled across the tavern of grifters, spacers and assorted degenerates, they fell upon a wonder of galactic beauty. Just as it had before, her heart skipped two beats as she gazed upon his alabaster skin, his perfectly tall hair that swirled about his head much like a helmet, his eyes that shone so blue they radiated, his rows of perfectly-cut white teeth. The young man, a few years older than her but hardly old, nodded plainly, but even his nod was celestial. Ponan Rourke, intergalactic pop sensation. Teenage heartthrob. And their client. She nearly forgot herself for a moment, just enjoying the sight of him again, wishing she could spend an entire afternoon watching him nod and smile at her.

Instead, she focused on their mission. The young man was a paying client, and the Sullustan his target. Their target. Under that simple, pig-nosed facade, a nefarious, card-counting thief lived, just waiting to make his move. And no one, no one, stole from Ponan Rourke and got away with it on her watch.

Which meant they had to make their move first.

"So," she said, sidling up to the table. The teen glanced knowingly at the young boy, her eyes flicking nigh-imperceptibly at the Sullustan. "Are you dealing from the deck or your sleeves?"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]​

 

[Veino Garn]

Veino had been on Rhen Var when the Force sent him a vision, or perhaps it was a glimpse of the future. Veino had never been certain about the dreams he had started receiving since the Netherworld. Not unless they involved Thyria, of course, but those were rare and fragmented. But this one was clear enough. It was about Corellia, clear and simple. A summons, perhaps. Veino had packed his gear and caught a ship towards Alliance space. Then a message came through on the comms.

The same Corellian sigil. Also a summons, and this was one Veino knew the source of. The League, bit of an Underground spin-off started by [member="Julius Sedaire"]. Veino hadn't been a part of it, being both non-Corellian and spending much of the time in the Netherworld. But it was time to help an old friend. He'd shipped aboard a freighter as a hired hand until they landed on-world and then he struck out on his own. No knowledge of the planet, no knowledge of the plans. Just he and the Force, the way it was back in the old days. Before even the Army of Light.

But really, that was where he was. No more armor. No more military weapons. No support teams or air-strikes on call. Him, the Force, and a lightsaber. Which, if one was to be honest, was more than enough to handle most foes, and it was something he wanted to get back to. No better way to do that than reliving the old Underground glory days.

Veino's path through the new Coronet city caught him rather by surprise, as a large number of crowds suddenly appeared. Lots of weapons, body armor. It appeared he had found the events, but whose side was whose? His hand went to his new lightsaber hilt, fresh from Rhen Var, with the Solari crystal just waiting. Veino took a deep breath and settled himself in the Force as he moved with the crowd. He hardly looked out of place, just another rugged old spacer in heavy clothing.

But there was excitement and energy in the air, an anticipation. No fear, understandable as these were Corellians.

But he was looking for one person in particular. He pulled out his comlink and sent a message to Julius.

On Corellia to answer the call. Where you need me?

His die was cast and the fate of a world hung in the balance.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

[member="Nikola Ticon"] got a nod, that wasn't rude but perhaps not as warm as it could have been. As in the distance, hasty barricades were flipped by One Sith forces, manning blasters and various weaponry. Two refuse trucks had turned sideways about ten meters out from the front lines, and Julius walked to the slight gap between them. There was a change in his walk and his attitude. People who knew him looked wary, stepping lighter. Since the Enclave during the last raid... Something had changed in the man... The darkness had lightened, but he had taken on a nasty edge to himself. A harshness and resolve that might just be a touch too deep. Hands gestured to sides, and CorSec forms took up support positions, aiming down second-hand rifles and looking for all the world excited to be there.

Now his attention turned to Nikola proper, and he nodded to the forms, and three flanked to him. The former wanderer seemed to be falling into the role of a Commander or General very well if a little resentfully. A touch to the transponder again, and to certain close friends he had warned of his plans, like [member="Keira Ticon"], or those who had his direct number like [member="Veino Garn"] or [member="Draco Vereen"], a set of coordinates would ping out at irregular intervals on secure channels. It would be relaying his exact coordinates and his name, a way for them to find him. A sign to hit hard, now. Others who had followed along just in curiosity at the crowd were hastily being armed, and what had started as dozens might soon become hundreds for the Green Jedi. It brought a smile to his face as he reached into his coat.

"Keira's your sister? If you're a Ticon you'll more than do. Stay here with these folks. Help arm the civilians, and act like you know what is going on. I'm hoping I can just sweep aside the resistance up ahead. If I fall, get my coat. Open the transponder. There is a flip switch next to the battery. Flip it, and run. Fast. And then you keep hitting these bastards, until the crumble. They've already cracked. Time to finish this."

With those rather odd words, the Corellian Jedi simply stepped out from cover, and walked right into the sights and barrels of a dozen guns or more, and simply spread his hands wide with a grin. For all the world he looked like a cat with a rat in it's jaws. Except the smile didn't reach his eyes, not now. And not hardly ever. The was a black robed figure he pointed to and waved at. This moment, he knew it. The League and himself would fumble and die, or rise and succeed, based on the next few minutes. It was impossible to say just how he knew that, and the more he thought on it he should probably find [member="Jorus Merrill"] or someone like [member="Alec Rekali"] and get his head looked at better, so to speak.

"Excuse me, any of you lot with the authority to speak? I've a proposit..."

A blaster shot, sniper by the length and whine of it, streaked out, and a brilliant silver-green light filled his hands for a split second. The bolt seemed to ricochet right back along the way it came. The light, most likely a lightsaber knowing Julius, was nowhere to be seen for the moment. Especially cunning folks might notice the holding of his right arm different. The hilt merely rested in the sleeve of his long bantha-jacket. Waiting. And here he wagged a finger at the Sith. They were clearly being surrounded, and nervous. These were mostly Corellian conscripts, and not 'true believers' as it were. No one here wanted to open fire on their friends and family.

"Right... The next of you to do that is gonna find unlike most Jedi, I have a temper... Now... Who can..."

This time, the bolt came from the robed figure. And it was less a bolt and more a coalesced and targeted burst of Force Lightning. @Selinica Miriya Cailis had peeked her head around the side, and the Sith had gone to strike her, thinking to distract Julius. Instead, the blue-white light, flickery and weak, was struck and repelled by a burst of emerald green as he streaked towards it. The burst was knocked aside but kept going, and Julius leaped into the path, taking the bolt in his left shoulder and sagging a bit, cursing, but the jacket seemed unharmed. Emerald Judgement was a power not many liked on his side, and more would say was evidence he was too close to the Dark Side to be a Jedi. But he stalked forward, trying to keep his breathing slowed and mind cleared and focused. He needed to keep his mind calm and focused on conserving energy. Every ounce of his strength was going to be needed and he was burning a bit hot already.

"You... "

Without looking to see if the other was ok, his senses confirming she wasn't hurt badly. Julius straightened and eyed the unit commander with a glare that would make Hoth seem a tropical paradise.

"Either come out from behind that barricade you ducked under, or I will come there and drag you out... I have no wish to kill Corellians... But I might could be convinced to wish that of you. And as you see, your men won't get to me..."

Buying time was all this was... Giving time for more Corellians to be armed. More allies to show up. This was the fulcrum, and he had to believe as he hoped: that things would swing in their favor here.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Hyperspace
Command Deck of the Drahr

"Alor, pings from the target. Coordinates enclosed, transmission checks out." A warrior called into the room. His heart rate was up, that subtle rise in them as battle approached.

"All ahead full. Make for hyperspace. Dump us out at the planetary gravity well. All weapons hot, watch for allies." Draco said, standing and exiting the command salon. It was time. Out of the view port he could see the other ships sitting around him, receiving the call. Engines flared and dove for hyperspace, rapidly accelerating to lightspeed.

Corellia was not his home. But he had found in them, a kinship. Corellians were not unlike the Mandalorians, though they were not truly the crusaders or supercommandos of old, they had their similarities. Enough that Draco could respect them, find common ground among them. That the warlord did not feel out of place among them. He had no close friends with them or their people. Only a shared enemy. The One Sith, his former associates were in need of destruction, their time long overdue. When he had walked among them, many of the Sith still stood tall. Now, they weren't even a shadow of their former selves.

All glory and purpose had left them when they slayed their Dark Lord for the last time, and divided his throne among themselves. Like rats they had grabbed at his power and fled with it. Holding it until it diminished in their hands. Draco had no more friends in the One Sith. They had all died or moved on.

Freedom was a train. The Republic had been taught what happened when they stood in front of that train. Now their Sith counterparts would as well.

 

[Jsc]

Corellia System

Allies had arrived. Some from the far flung reaches of space and some from the mysteriousness depths of the city itself. And so it was that Sam Rivers job was already done. To clear a path so that the outsiders might arrive. On time and ready for a fight. Even now her nav-computer spoke to her about the massive burst in activity along the Hyperlanes. Corellia was sure to be host to a truly grand event indeed.

Her mission already accomplished. The edges of the system breached. She smiled to her little astro droid and gave a nod to the future.

"Well R2. I think they've seen the colors of our flag. Nothing left to due here but watch skies turn colors now. Oh my my. How the times, they are a changing."

~ Dweet dwoo! ~

"I hear ya little buddy. Nothing left for us here. Let's go home."

....

Her X-Wing R twisted it's tail toward the new horizon and disappeared into the light. A quick jump to Lightspeed. Her retreat from the battlefield came as the system filled up with allies and rebellious starships alike. Now. It was only a matter of time.

*exit

 

[Bryce Bantam]

Cnet City - Slums
Allies: Forces of Freedom
Enemies: Quarterdan!

It as Bryce lead the people from the slums he came upon the first signs of One Sith brutality. Upon the ground lay some dozen or so figures, some armed, some not. Their blood lay in red pools about their bodies and over them stood a hulking beast of a man flanked by red and black armored soldiers. His armor once metallic covered in matted furs all was now stained and spattered with blood. In one had was a great shield, old looking with bits of flesh and bone still stuck to it. In his other a blood-soaked axe. Bryce has come upon a slaughter, brave folks only wanting a better life who had their taken by a monster.

Bryce commanded those with him to continue to [member="Julius Sedaire"] and the barricades. They would be needed there. He alone would face down this man and his minions. It was better, Bryce would not have to worry about others of less skill falling in the confusion to come. Their deaths to this man would mean nothing to the cause. He was a distraction, a thorn meant to draw the rebellions strength. Bryce decided he alone would face this instead.

Walking into the center of the street he drew his great saber, unlit, and held it down my his side. As he did he reach out into the armored giant's mind and beheld his surface thoughts. Joy, he loved the slaughter... money, though of all the credits within his purse brought him gladness... Pain, of how he did love it so. This man was a creature of filth in Bryce's mind, he would take pleasure in bringing him to justice.

"You done karked up buddy, now you and your friends should come along quietly and sit out this fight, or else..."

[member="Halfdan"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Symara's March​

​

Allies: Corellian League + Friends
Enemies: Anyone Who Opposes Us
Location: Coronet City, Corellia
Objective: Free Corellia

Lieutenant Symara Tarriq had arrived on Corellia a week ago. Last time, she was here alone, having left the Galactic Republic she had come home to raid the Sith. This time, she was here to liberate her home, and this time, she had back up. Looking to Sgt. Kala Matthieus who led a squadron of flamethrowers known as Kerrigan's Flame. The two women shook hands, Lieutenant Tarriq with Firemane's support had returned with a platoon of soldiers, and armor to retake Coronet City. "Thank you for volunteering," Symara said as her hand dropped to her side and she checked her sniper rifle.

Kala nodded, "you're welcome, we stand with Corellia and their want for self-determination."

There was a total of four squads present, Kala and her flamethrower unit, and three infantry units, finally a tank unit - for support, of course. Led by Staff Sergeant Jeniia Frosthem. SSgt. Frosthem nodded toward the other two women as they looked at the light infantry, "you two ready?"

"Let's roll out," Symara secured her armor and helmet, the past week consisted of setting up a temporary forward operating base, or in this case FOB Ashira which was somewhere outside of the city built on the ruins that had once been a livelier sector. Small defensive towers marked the outliers of the temporary base that was filled with tents, women, and armor from one end to another. Drills were conducted, strategies mapped out - and now, now they were rolling out.

A second tank support unit and an artillery unit would be rolling out with two additional infantry units once the first platoon reached Cor-Sec's old HQ. Symara led the march departing FOB Ashira. Symara grabbed her communications device and radioed to Sedaire, personally, the two haven't met but - she had seen his name several times in association with the Corellian League. "Sedaire, this is Lieutenant Tarriq, we're rolling out into the city. I've got a second platoon prepping at Ashira now. I'm leading the first platoon to CorSec, do you have a preferred target for us once we reach CorSec?"

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Allies: Corellian League + Friends
Enemies: One Sith
Objective: Force Recon, Establish GA Observation Post, Settle an Old Grudge

Outskirts of New Coronet City, Corellia

“Alright, boys,” sweat gleaned off Hal Varik’s face, but he showed no other signs of exhaustion despite the long hike through unforgiving terrain, “Remember the rules of engagement now, between possible friendly units operating in the area and yer average Corellian on the street, just cause they’re armed doesn’t mean they’re hostile.”

The Galactic Alliance special forces team nodded nearly in unison, all save Zark who hesitated marveling at the sight of his old friend in such different circumstances. Hal had not been a Colonel the first time they had met a decade ago. Back then, the fierce eyed Corellian had operated under a somewhat looser moral code. The kind of man Zark had worked with often back in those days, who still believed in decency and civilization but were just broken enough not to feel like they belonged there.

In some ways, Varik’s story had contributed to his own commission. If a guy like Hal could find somewhere to belong, fighting for a cause he believed in, then maybe so could…

“Captain!” the Colonel was staring right at him, and Zark realized his mind had been wandering, Not a good time for that.

“Sorry, Colonel.”

“I said,” Hal repeated, “First checkpoint is coming up and we need to be ghost-like. I hate to ask, but anything you can do?”

Some of the soldiers looked at each other in confusion, but Zark understood Hal’s meaning. When they had met what seemed like a lifetime ago now Zark had been a Jedi Knight, and when he had joined the Galactic Alliance he wasn’t. He had never confided in the Colonel directly, but Varik was at times unnervingly perceptive.

Looking around at the Corellians, at his team, he nodded. There was principle, and there was selfishness. They needed all the help they could get for this mission, and until now he had been sitting on a pretty big trump card. Bracing himself for the sudden rush of euphoria that came with lifting his mental barriers, Zark reached out with the Force and the universe opened up to him.

It was always overwhelming at first after so long, but a sort of mental muscle memory coupled with over a decade of training quickly drowned out all the white noise and allowed him some measure of focus. He focused on his senses, suddenly hyperaware of his immediate surroundings, and then pushed himself to extend the borders of that awareness.

“Follow me,” he said, “And stay close.”

To their credit, Varik’s team hardly hesitated before forming up into a tight wedge formation behind the naval officer, who was now running point. Zark led them several blocks east of the main road and the One Sith forces that patrolled it. Slipping into a narrow alley, he led them through a short maze of back streets before he paused at an older building, placing his hand against the duracrete and closing his eyes. There was no life force within its walls, as far as he could tell.

With unnatural strength, he ripped the bars off their hinges as quietly as he could, shattering the glass of the street level window they were protecting and signaling the incredulous team behind him to slip through its slim horizontal frame and into the dank, pitch dark basement. When they were all inside, Zark followed, resuming his point position as he led them up the stairwell of what turned out to be a foreclosed housing project.

One of Hal’s men neatly severed the chain locking the door to the rooftops with her vibroblade, and they emerged high above the Coronet streets and beyond the One Sith checkpoint. Varik grinned at the Captain before he ordered several men to check for nearby spotters.

“So, what now?” Zark asked.

“Like I said, there’s this bar I know.”


Near the Rusty Spanner Cantina

“Good idea with the rooftops,” Hal said, coming up to stand beside him and look out on the chaos below, “Not sure we would have kept a low profile through all that. Not sure my men would have wanted to.”

Pulsar took the meaning. Corellians were a tight knit lot, and he knew for many of their team it felt like their brothers and sisters down below the offices several floors up from ground level that Varik had somehow acquisitioned for their purposes. An old CorSec safehouse, or something to that effect, it provided enough floor space for the army engineers that made up a fourth of their team to begin their little project.

The transmitter was crude and simple in its design, having to be transported through enemy territory and reassembled in the field, but it would have enough signal strength for their purposes. To send encrypted communications within the system to the Galactic Alliance, reporting on troop movements and possible surgical strike locations. Each man also carried a smaller device with a cloned frequency that they’d set up throughout the city in other unoccupied buildings to confuse One Sith counterintelligence, hopefully long enough to keep them alive.

The other team members were gearing up, preparing to head out in teams of two, where they would take up concealed positions throughout the city, giving the Alliance a wider perspective of New Coronet. The engineers would stay behind to monitor the real transmitter and communicate with Galactic Alliance forces.

All except Zark and Hal, who would be providing overwatch for the engineers themselves, capable soldiers though they were, as well as attempt to make contact with local resistance elements if possible. Looking down at the streets below, Zark knew they’d have no trouble making contact with the resistance, but finding the right needle in a pile of other needles would be next to impossible, and so he relied on Hal.

“You ready?” Zark asked, and the Colonel nodded.

The two of them climbed up to the roof, leaping to the building nextdoor and descending to exit out the back before looping around to come to the Rusty Spanner as if from down the street.

“Now remember,” Hal reminded him as they entered the cantina, “No matter what, we need to keep a low profile. No drawing attention to our-”

“Zark, rrawk! Pulsar!”

Several faces in the establishment turned and Zark froze as, to his shock and horror, a very drunk Rishii stumbled from the bar over to pull the stunned Jedi into a hug.

“Oh no,” Zark said softly.

“Zark?” Hal asked, his eyes daggers, “What the hell is your old fence Kingsley doing in the middle of what is about to be a war zone?”

“We’re gunna shhhteal back tha Blood Ruby an kill hish nemeshish!” Kingsley slurred condescendingly to the scowling special forces commando.

“Oh we are, are we?” the question was seemingly in response to the Rishii, but Hal was glaring right at Zark when he said it.

“I think I need a drink.”

 

[Zef Halo]

Location: Coronet City, Outskirts.
Enemies: Bryce Banthafodder
Allies: One Sith Forces
Objective: Liberate Bryce's Head from its shoulders.

Halfdan's Galactic Basic was certainly not top notch, his comprehension of it was rather average and his Valkyri accent was obvious. Yet, he was still able to comprehend the threatening tone and the meaning of the words behind the sentence spoken by a man believing that his cause was just while the Valkyri's one was evil. Did he care what the man and his insurgents thought ? Not really. The massive mercenary was here for the pouch of credits that he had received and as the honorable person he was - he was going to chop some enemies of the Sith for them.

His axe fell upon the skull of a fallen insurgent and blood splattered around. The Valkyri's gaze piercing the man who had arrived.

"This will be your fate today, little boy!!"

Not going to wait for the boy to speak anything else, with a roar full of horror, the massive figure charged forward towards the man. His shield in front of him to cover him from upcoming fire. Should he reach the insurgent, Halfdan would move his shield away and attempt to hack at the man with his axe.


[member="Bryce Bantam"]