[Vanguard Campaign] Alliance Dominion of Karfeddion

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION: South Side!
>>> ETA to pens: 9 MINUTES
ALLIES: [member="Abel"] | [member="Micah Talith"] | @Vexen
ENEMIES: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | Clone Trooper who needs to talk about updating his name for when we get serious and engaged, brush.

What an excellent illustration — it was so clear and concise, that it made Loske happy she asked [member="Abel"] in the first place. Vision. Everyone had it (of course, with some exceptions — but that was just like The Force too!) but in different degrees. Staggering! Then too, that opened the question of if some persons used technologies to enhance their force connection, similarly to a person who used lenses to correct their eyesight.

That was a tangent for another time.

With hurried steps, Loske was impressed that the level of huffing and puffing she supposed the two would share was actually quite reduced! The level of conversation was perhaps distracting enough to keep the breaths light on their lips.

“That’s noble of you.” Loske admitted, a waning wistful tone clung at her compliment. It was a selfish reason she sounded slightly remorseful though; based purely on the fact that Abel had suggested everyone knew where they came from, knew their families. She was one that did not fit in this category. “What if they don’t know where they came from? Know about those fathers and mothers, and all they know is what they are now.

Would you be more inclined to do something then? If there's nothing to redeem?”

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

LOCATION: Spaceport - Engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Trix Bastin"] [member="Ayme Katash"] [member="Olivia Durant"] [member="Joza Perl"]

If he was being entirely honest with himself, Jacen would have liked a few seasoned Knights by his side. The padawans were certainly talented and brave, but in these situations the calming influence of some experienced heads would have been greatly appreciated. Still, they were communicated well and making good progress. They had a well dug in enemy who were being particularly stubborn about giving it up. Jacen darted between two stormtroopers and with a single manipulation of the Force sent them both flying away in opposite directions. He didn't need to do more; being out in the open with the Wardogs firing on you was as good as dead. Taking cover, he silently cursed the First Order for channelling funds into this Vanguard to oppose them. They could openly deny it all they wanted, this was all just a game until open war broke out to them.

Snap hiss

"Oh hi boys," Jacen said, slowly moving to his feet. "I'd been looking out for you."

They're here! he called through the Force to the other Padawans. Someone was already radioing in the warning through the battle network.

"Space wizards in black spotted on Voidstalker's position! Spread out, get the angles on them!" came the call from one of the dogs.

Jacen stood firm, his golden blade in a vertical defensive posture. The Acolytes fanned out and started heading for his padawans. They left two to keep him occupied. As far as Jacen was concerned, this was a clear tactic.

"Well then, you boys pull the short straw?" Jacen asked, slowly advancing. He sensed their confidence waver through the Force.



OOC/ Dark Acolytes heading your way.

 

[Joy]

Location: South Side
Allies: [member="Vexen"] | [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"]
Enemies: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | Twirly Trooper

"Oh," Abel looked uncomfortable. The thought hadn't really ever occurred to him. After all, how would someone not know where he or she came from? The very concept was anathema to the young man, whose life was founded on such simple concepts as family and the longing to one day return home and tend his gardens. Maybe if the person had amnesia? The idea disturbed Abel.

"Then I guess I would tell 'em it's not about who they are, it's about who they can be. Just because you don't know your past don't mean you can't be redeemed. I'd like to think it might even be a tad easier, since most Dark Siders carry a lotta baggage. Hard to let go of so much darkness. I suppose that's why some say ignorance is bliss. I dunno."

He bit the inside of his cheek again, chewing for a moment. "No, I don't think it'd make much of a difference. People are still people. Don't make someone less of one just 'cause they can't remember how they got where they are. What matters is what they do next."

An earnest gaze swiveled to Loske. "Don't mean I'd kill 'em either, if I had the choice. Nobody's beyond redemption. I think that's the big lie the Sith like to tell themselves. I think somewhere deep down they feel sad and empty, but I think they're too scared to change, because they think they're too far gone."

He scratched his head awkwardly and blushed, realizing he'd monopolized the conversation a bit. "Sorry if I went on a bit. Just seemed important is all."

The slave pens stood in the distance, growing ever closer. Abel could make them out now. Great big things, like Bantha sties. He grimaced at the comparison. What sort of horrible people ripped families apart like that? Made sapient beings live in such horrible conditions? Abel wondered how redemptive he would feel if he stood face to face with one of those slavers now. The uncomfortable knot in his stomach came back again.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION: SOUTH SIDE
>> ETA to slave pens - next post
OBJECTIVE: 3
ALLIES: [member="Abel"] | [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Vexen"]
ENEMIES: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | Super trooper, we are gonna tag you, standing in the crowd

Well that was that. Abel was now categorized as the bringer of pleasant thoughts. Speculating on the answers the Jedi gave her made her feel content, despite the foul stench and uncertainty of the situation they were marching into. Being certain of the person beside her gave her more confidence, despite the unknown. “Don’t apologize.” She commanded, perhaps more firmly than she had meant. It was the sort of peacefulness brought to a child when their parent finished reading them the tale of the good versus evil, and good triumphed with a kiss goodnight and pulling the covers up tight.

There was a sort of rustic love about him, to the good of people he spoke about. As if his thick brown curls were filled with contented notions and wondrous perspectives. Certainly more honey, than vinegar, and she supposed that’s what Jedi ought to be. Beacons of pleasantness and light. “It is important.” She nodded affirmatively, not leaving any doubt in her reassurance "I like what you said. It makes sense.”

Now, let’s be clear, Loske had only known Abel a handful of moments - and yet there was a definite shift in mood that she felt somewhat privy to. Which wasn’t something she was exposed to normally unless a person immediately expressed it. Nevertheless, she wrote it off as nothing (as she often did) and shifted the focus of the conversation from idealistic to idea-generative.

“We should be approaching in about five minutes,” Loske murmured, instinctively dropping her voice in case surveillance audio was stationed about the pen. “We’ve got two friends on the insight right now, one is..” she reached into her jacket pocket to produce the data pad once more — “I don’t know.

I just say we go for it.

Not like we can lose, right? We’re the good guys.” A wink manifested from the lids that covered cerulean. Delusion was evident.

“Any ideas from your field experience? This is my first time working on the ground, to be honest. I’m more familiar with the zap and twist method in the skies.”

 

[Joy]

Location: South Side
Allies: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Vexen"]
Enemies: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="TR-8R"]

The hard quality to Loske's tone surprised Abel, but rather than feeling a sense of irritation surging from her aura Abel only felt warmth. Friendliness? Determination. He hoped his words helped. Something about the way she asked told him that the questions had a little more to them than plain curiosity. Maybe she would tell him. Maybe she wouldn't. Wasn't really for him to worry about.

Right now they needed to get the good folk in those pens free. Best focus on that, Abel.

So, just go for it? Abel thought on his field experience. A field experience which consisted of following stronger men through tight corridors, mistaking his training saber for a real lightsaber, and getting zapped like a bug by a ball of lightning. Abel remembered stepping over broken bodies in the hall, G.A. and Sith both.

He scratched his head again.
"I think-"

Every muscle in Abel's body froze. A sinister presence brushed across his senses, making the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. His eyes widened and he took an involuntary step backward, senses drawing back in on himself.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. Refusing to believe. "Oh no. Something's happening. C'mon, we need to hurry!"

Fear for his friends made his heart race and he broke into a sprint in the direction of the pens, managing to draw his lightsaber out as he ran, but unlit for now.

 

[Elaine Thul]

Allies: [member="Ayme Katash"] [member="Trix Bastin"] [member="Olivia Durant"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]
Enemy: [member="OK-3103"]
Objective: 2
9/20

She rose to her feet as the trooper taunted her by saying, "Come on Sith, is that the best you can do?" She immediately threw up, she had concussion from the blow to back of the head, her eyes where still dazed. Some of her troops quickly surround her, to protect her form the enemy. They where winning, and the enemy had already began to retreat. They let out a hail fire at the enemy storm troopers, as they did one of them sent for a medic for her. She was in no condition carrying on fighting, as she laid down one them kept taking to her, to help keep her awake, all she was muttering was something about glitter. Her eyes still where yellow, from the taint of the dark side.

 

[Vexen]

[member="Micah Talith"]

Family? What was he talking about? Yet Vexen could sense he was being deadly serious. Droplets of water ran down her coat as she sat perched on one of the walls. In the night her silhouette turning towards a the sound of a ruckus was barely visible.

Another one of the guards was pushing his way through the pen. Riot shield in one arm, huge stuns baton in the other, the crowd parted before him.

"Where is she? Move! Filth move!" she heard him call as he moved through the mass of slaves. He found a group huddled in the corner. Two adults and a child.

"No please!" the father called. He tried to fight back. Vexen saw the stun baton swing around to knock him down. The slave tried to crawl away, but the trooped didn't let him. The shield was raised high and brought down on its edge. Vexen felt the slave's life snuffed out in an instant.

The guard returned and peeled the child from its mothers grip to a shrill cry. The girl held within his shield arm, the guard threatened the other slaves with his baton and strode out. The girl sobbed as she went. Vexen wasn't the best judge of things, but the human girl looked perhaps fifteen. The defel reached out to touch the mind of the guard to try and understand what was going on.

She wished she hadn't.

Disgusted and realising she had to act fast or else the slave would be taken off world before the GADF got here, she dashed along the wall towards the gate out of the pit.

 

[TR-8R "Hunter"]

Objective:3
Post:3/20

He'd just finished teaching another one of the brave ones a lesson.He was getting quite tired of this,watching them attempt at escape. He stood up and yelled to the crowd "That's what happens when you are a nuisance to me,understand?!" He began forcing the people to huddle together in a corner,to make them easier to guard.

 

[Connor Harrison]

OBJECTIVE: Protect the Alliance Run
LOCATION: Above Karfeddion
ALLIES: [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | All Fleet
ENEMIES: The nefarious First Order and Sith Forces


The Y-Wings moved in a rigid formation, their strength and speed making an equally impressive sight as the bombing run commenced, and the call came to keep the TIEs at bay. They wer nimble machines, like flies buzzing around your head, but they were easily swatted with the right materials.
”Use the environment around you as best you can Gold Four to keep them from hitting their own. We’ll cover you.”

Cracking his fingers instantly, Dax activated the real-time HUD across his cockpit viewport and noted the red blots signifying enemy craft, They were all below and some to the right. Dax primed the quad laser canons and took to the right with a sharp bank.

”This is Ragnar, provide the Y-Wings the cover on the second run and I’ll cover YOU from above – they’re setting a honey trap I think.”

As the craft would fly to protect the Y-Wings, more enemies from above would drop in behind and wipe them out. A desperate move but an effective one. However, with a stutter of fire from the quads with a precise aim, Dax tore through a TIE, swooping left to follow the second now aware of his position.

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Dax Ragnar"] [member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Taeli Raaf"]

Objective One

The battle had almost seemed straightforward at first. Target, friendly cruisers, enemy station, two formations of fighters meeting in the middle. Now it was bedlam. Red and blue tracks streaked across his readouts as fighters and missiles cut a complex dance across the vacuum of space. He'd been in a battle before, but only as a gunner. He simply didn't have the brain space to handle it all. Fortunately he had an experienced copilot, an astromech and a squadron leader to keep him focussed.

"Gold Four, nose up, Gold Three, down," came a call.

Asmus responded as told. The gap created was large enough for an X-Wing coming in to slide between them and hit to pair of TIE's that had been on an intercept course head on. The superior firepower and shielding of the Alliance craft saw it through.

"Here we go Gold group, throttle up!"

Asmus gently eased on the throttle, ion engines flared as he accelerated towards the Golan at attack velocity. He watched the numbers carefully, his keen intellect calculating all sorts of variables such as: how many seconds would I need to pull out at this relative velocity.

"Proton bomb loaded!" called his copilot.

Asmus wasn't one to play with fate. His targeting computer showed his co-pilot the details, but it also showed him the angles he needed to run. One couldn't "eyeball" this kind of thing. He didn't have the Force and in space no one was really able to judge distances, velocities and make calculations on the fly that quickly. He trusted in the computers as much his own instinct. He'd be a fool not to.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he grunted to himself.

"We've got this!" called his co-pilot. There was a bright flash as Gold Three vanished as a stray turbolaser ripped through it. The Golan station loomed before them.

"Feth, taking evasive manoeuvrers!" Asmus called.

"I need my shot!"

"Trust me!"

He banked down, shifting the controls to spin the craft around all three axis to form a wide spiral. He took himself out of the main firing arcs of the Golan as he eased off the throttle. Lasers tracked his almost erratic movements. Asmus tightened the spiral suddenly, hitting the thrusters. Easing flat he launched forwards in a straight vector.

"Get ready!" he called. The Y-Wing came up over the lip of the platform and levelled out, weaving between laser turrets. He pulled up at the last few moments before the spherical shield generator. His co-pilot had just a fraction of a second to led the payload go.

"Bombs away!"

Asmus pulled up hard as the two bombs left faint trails on their path. The deflector erupted in a sphere of bright blue light. Asmus was too worried about taking evasive action to notice his readouts, but the call came over the comm:

"Golan's shields are down! All squadrons focus fire on the bridge and primary weapon's systems! Do not strike the reactors, we want them to surrender!"

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Snap-Hiss

The sound of a lightsaber echoed through the hall. A single figure stood between the small group of Mandalorians and their target location. Almost in unison his coms exploded, cries of ambushes throughout the spaceport and reports of K.I.A. Mandos. Before he could even get a chance to respond the Sith was upon them. Unluckily for this Sith his men wore armor of Mandalorian steel.

Mordecai challenged this opponent, tossing his blaster to the ground and gripping the modified blastsword from his back. The beskar clashed with the red plasma of the Sith's weapon. A charge of stormtroopers rounded the corner, pinning the group between a Sith and a inferno of blaster bolts.

His Mandalorians shouted a war cry and fought against the stormtroopers. Mordecai panted as he exchanged blows with the Sith. the Sith sorcery that had created him fueld his movements. This Sith would die today.

 

[Joza Perl]

LOCATION: Spaceport - Engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]/[member="Trix Bastin"]/[member="Ayme Katash"]/[member="Olivia Durant"]


Joza grunted as the voices of her fellow Padawans crackled in her ear, wincing slightly from the sharp background noises of combat. That was good, at least they were still here. Losing comrades on the battlefield was something she’d yet to experience and had no way to prepare for. At least now she had a target.

She’d dipped behind some sort of metallic remains while eyeing the weapon, her temporary shelter still twisted and smoking from some sort of previous blast. “Right then, we’re heading in. Be careful.” She muttered into the com. After receiving confirmation, the pink Padawan darted out from her cover, eyes locking on to the mounted weapon. She would waste no time in dodging and weaving her way through the battlefield with as much agility as she could manage, the focus on her goal helping to dampen her nerves. Blocking blaster shots with her blade came a bit more naturally as she moved, if only out of necessity.

Joza didn’t have time to raise her saber to block an incoming shot, instead ducking out of the way at the last minute in a rather ungraceful manner. She had avoided taking damage, but the shot of plasma nicked her hair tie. Red waves came undone from the previous tight bun they were held in, falling down Joza’s back and in her face. She growled in irritation, flicking her head to try and arrange her hair so that it wasn’t hindering her. Briefly she wondered if there was anywhere she could duck behind for a few moments to fix it—she probably had enough pins in her hair right now to pin it back enough and keep it out of her face. But they were closing in on the Stormtroopers and their weapon, so primping for battle would have to wait. If I find one burnt hair I’m going to be very upset.

Swinging her saber in a wide horizontal arc, Joza was able to take out a pair of troopers who had their backs to them. She could see the other Padawans in the corner of her field of vision as they converged on the enemy, a surprising pang of relief hitting her in the chest. Don’t let your guard down. She solemnly reminded herself as the fallen troopers let out garbled cries, drawing the attention of the others.

Dropping immediately to avoid a hail of blaster fire, Joza rolled to the side before rising part way. The Zeltron kept her center of gravity low, blade held close to her in case she needed to block any incoming shots. A sudden feeling struck her and she whirled around, catching a trooper in the chest with a rotating slice of her lightsaber. T-that was close… She could feel her nerves coming back, heart pounding in her ears once more.

No sooner had the Stormtroopers fallen did Jacen’s voice ring in her head, followed quickly by a similar message over the com in her ear. Her eyes caught the light of red sabers approaching, and then she felt them. Swallowing thickly, Joza shuffled her feet and solidified her stance.

 

[Trix Bastin]

LOCATION: Spaceport - Engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Ayme Katash"] | [member="Olivia Durant"] | [member="Joza Perl"]

She’d made it halfway across the hangar, dodging blaster fire from friendlies, bucketheads, and what looked suspiciously like Mandalorians.

Trix was several meters from Durant, her gaze fixed on the taller woman’s back, when every instinct abruptly screamed at her to stop. She planted both boots and rocked back on the heels of her feet just as a gleaming red blade swung down and sheared into the floor directly in front of her.

Almost subconsciously, Trix back-pedalled in the direction she’d come from. The owner of the weapon was a giant of a man with a slab of a jaw and a tree trunk of a neck. He was clad in black robes that shadowed his muscular frame, dark armour glinting beneath. The man ripped the red beam free of the floor in a shower of sparks, spun it deftly around, then jabbed a thick finger at her.

“Don’t leave,” he roared at her over the din of the surrounding battle. His face twisted into a feral smile. “You only just got here!”

Trix snapped both blasters up to lock the man's gleaming teeth in their sites. The weapons bucked in her hands to spit death down each barrel.

She heard him laugh, saw the red beam of his lightsaber flicker before him, before the bolts ricocheted harmlessly off into the distance.

Then the robed man was on her.

A shriek of metal signalled the demise of the blaster clutched in Trix’s right hand, the barrel dropping away in two pieces. She snarled and jerked the other blaster up only to lurch forward, barking out a cough of pain, as the man’s elbow slammed deep into her ribs. Trix doubled over, the remaining blaster sliding from numb fingers, before steel bands curled about her neck and whipped her up into the air.

“You must be new,” the man’s warm breath washed over her face as he pulled her close, black eyes examining her with mild curiosity. His grip tightened until the thin stream of air whistling through her nose ceased.

Trix bucked wildly in the man’s grip, the blood rushing to her head and pounding at her temples, her nails tearing bloody grooves in the scarred arm that held her.

The man seemed unperturbed by the damage she was inflicting. “A shame really,” his voice was sluggish, like it was battling through water. The face hovering before her spotted, red creeping in, before the edges of features started to melt.

"A shame...to waste so much potential."

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Location: Slave Pens
Enemies: [member="Abel"] | [member="Vexen"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Micah Talith"]
Allies: [member="TR-8R "Hunter" "]

Cameron did not share an...immense connection with Micah. Yes, they had certainly spent a fair amount of time together, particularly when the boy was younger. However, the Sith Lord had enough exposure to his young nephew to feel the gentle changes in his presence, his emotions.

As Micah prepared to surge forward to meet the Sith Lord, Cameron did something that he'd long since abandoned as a routine habit. For a brief moment, he focused his thoughts until he envisioned himself as little more than a microscopic cell. The years had made his manipulation of Art of the Small much simpler than when he had first learned as a much younger man.

The ethereal darkness that surrounded Cameron's presence dissipated completely as he casually walked away from the loading and departing shuttles. He couldn't say he understood the Galactic Alliance's move here. The entire indigenous population of the planet were slavers...the First Order had not truly been the progenitor of any distasteful actions on the planet. What was the plan? Wipe out or force the species that had been here since the dawn of civilization on the world to...completely change?

It amused Cameron. The endless parading and grandstanding of democratic freedom fighters; always so quick to resort to forcing others into absorbing their ideals. That sounds familiar.

In a matter of moments, Cameron's large figure disappeared into a sea of slaves ranging in smell from body odor to human feces. Coming to a stop in the midst of one of the large pens, the Sith Lord took a seat on the ground. For their part, the slaves had scurried away from the cloaked figure once he'd implanted himself among them.

Eyelids slid over Cameron's silver-green orbs as he allowed his manipulation over Art of the Small to slip completely. Forcing his presence outward, the Sith Lord held a more specific purpose than merely touching the mind of Micah. In a steady wave, he invaded the minds of the slaves in the area. Amidst the steady rain, the prattling, whining, and outright despair of slaves began to wane. There were some with strength left still to resist, but it wouldn't matter.

The Sith Lord's mind was quickly melded into the Force, and he viewed the world around him through the eyes and senses of the many slaves still wallowing in their own body waste. For now - the slaves succumbing to the machinations of Cameron uttered one phrase repeatedly, in unison.

OUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT. LEAVE NOW OR JOIN US.

With every repetition, the slaves would appear more and more agitated as their minds struggled to contain any element of Cameron's intensely dark presence within their own skulls. What to do now freedom fighters? Liberate individual slaves? Kill guards merely doing a job, executing a livelihood? Or dare to attempt to follow the thread to its source?

So the game began.

 

[Ayme Katash]

[SIZE=9pt]LOCATION: Spaceport - Engaging[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]OBJECTIVE: 2[/SIZE]
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] / [member="Trix Bastin"] / [member="Olivia Durant"] / [member="Joza Perl"]


Ayme leaped over a smoking crate and landed in a crouch with her blaster raised. The distance between her previous location and her current one was frankly pathetic. She could see the artillery just beyond the hangar but hadn’t had any luck shaking her stormtrooper attacker.

His red pauldron indicated he should have better things to do than chase after one combatant on a field. Apparently she found the one tenacious stormtrooper in the whole damn army, or the guy had a crush on her which would lead him only to disappointment. With a frustrated growl Ayme darted over to some debris and grabbed a long flat piece of steel just in time to block three…possibly four shots aimed at her head.

The force of the impact sent her flying into the tracks of a tank. Her spine groaned as she rolled slightly to push the metal off her body. She could see the trooper approaching but he was distracted by another scuffle with a ally solder. She fought against the pain to lift her blaster and fire off a shot. The bolt landed on the side of his helmet sending him directly to the ground. If he wasn’t dead from the shot he certainly was once the army regular approached him.

Ayme groaned as she slowly crawled back to her feet. The flash of red sabers drew her attention towards the center of the hangar. Then she caught sight of Trix being held up by a large man in a dark robe. He was grinning at her as she was clearly loosing her grip on consciousness.

Ayme lowered her shoulders and took off at a run. She didn’t slow down as she approached the pair. She shouted several choice Corellian curse words then tackled the Sith acolyte causing all three of them to slam gracelessly to the floor.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Jacen kept his advance slow, controlled. His feet never left the ground by more than a few inches, never gave the pair of acolytes a clear opportunity. They each stepped back and aside, trying to place him between them. Instead he angled his approached towards the nearest.

The acolyte lashed out before Jacen could strike. Voidstalker rolled the blade wide, then whipped it saber back along the line. The acolyte swore and backed away, a neat line through his robe smouldering. This was the truth of the Dark side: fear was as likely to be manipulated as it was to be utilised.

The second came for Jacen, but that was as he'd hoped. Already turning, he brought his saber around in a powerful horizontal sweep. It almost wrenched the hilt from the acolyte's grip. Jacen didn't let up. He used to Force to send the other acolyte reeling and carried on with his simple offensive routine. A probing thrust, a low swing, a step back and then a sudden high swipe. It was over so quickly. The acolyte staggered back, free hand reaching for his neck. Realisation dawning as he felt the cauterised wound there.

Jacen turned on the second acolyte, saber held unwavering in the air towards him.

"Yield." The offer was as much motivated by the padawans in trouble as it was by mercy. I

 

[Trix Bastin]

LOCATION: Spaceport - Engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Ayme Katash"] | [member="Olivia Durant"] | [member="Joza Perl"]

Trix was drifting, darkness creeping into the corners of her vision and turning the world to black. It was tempting to roll her eyes back and embrace it. Let it take her away from the excruciating pain of the fist crushing her throat, the throbbing of her wounds, the ache deeper still beneath her ribs...a constant presence that haunted every waking moment.

“You carry death with you.” The voice might have been the acolyte’s, or it might have been any of the dozens of men she’d put in their graves throughout her short life. It was the truth, no matter who spoke it.

On a subconscious level, she was aware that she was still fighting. Her fingers still scrabbling with the last of her strength. Her booted feet swinging forward to bounce harmlessly off armoured flesh.

Don’t you ever quit fightin’ y’hear? You can rest when you’re back in the mud.

Trix would have laughed if she had the air. If she wasn’t currently dangling like a fish on a hook. Typical of the Cap to make an appearance while the life was being choked from her. He was a bastard of a man, a persistent sonvabitch who has used her up and tossed her aside just like the rest of the Sun. Persistent enough that she couldn’t even shake him through death.

She felt her fingers tremble and slide from the acolyte’s arm.

Then abruptly she was flying sidewards, the relentless pressure lifting from her throat. She hit the ground face first, heard the crunch of bone as her nose snapped out of place, before the momentum of the fall flipped her onto her back.

Trix gazed up at the sky as the world snapped back into place around her. Fresh air billowed into her open mouth and up her nose. She drew a series of deep breaths, ignoring the twanging of her tortured throat, and felt her chest shudder and expand. The shooting pain of her nose was a welcome thing, a familiar stabbing hurt that announced she was still feeling.

“Still alive,” the words were a whisper, drawing forth another wave of pain.

Trix rolled to one side, spat blood as it trickled from her nose into her mouth, then planted a hand and pushed herself to her knees.

Katash was there, also rising from the ground. The acolyte was already back on his feet, fury etched into every line on his heavy face. He thumbed his red blade back to life and gestured to someone over his shoulder.

Another acolyte, a woman with a cavernous face and bright green eyes, stood forward.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske's skin itched before Abel finished his sentence. Anxiety was a shared emotion; and when he leapt into action she scrambled her gangly long legs to follow suite. Now he wanted to hurry. Oh well, she'd not object; but she'd not encourage too much either. She was a little worried about the moppy-haired Padawan in combat.

In the dark of the night, Loske had to be careful of her footing while the pair hastened toward the dismal situation. [member="Abel"] was really only lit by whatever light the slave pens offered, but she could see him pull out that saber he mentioned not liking. Did he expect to have to use that?

Super alert now, light eyes scanned the upcoming loom of the walls to another shadow crouched on the tip. A lone @Vexen; and according to the coordinates of the map, that was a friendly. She was fast though, and the shadowing crouch she had been quickly moved in such an immediate sense it paralleled Abel's startling reaction.

Suddenly Loske felt very confused as how to help. And how to even get in.

"I'm going to follow your lead. Maybe you can cut us in with that light stick." Loske murmured, bashful of her negligence to take the lead in this baffling moment. She slowed her pace to draw nearer the portly comrade, gesturing to the tips of the perimeter. "There was a friendly up there," it was an offering sentence, as if it would contribute to the solution.

 

[Vexen]

[member="Loske Matson"] [member="TR-8R "Hunter""] (your name is untaggable) [member="Abel"]

Vexen could hear the GADF forces in the distance; she could sense friendly presences nearby. However, she was focused on the trooper dragging a young prisoner from this particular slave pen.

Two more guards manned the gate from the wall. One of them spotted her darting along its length. He fired but the bolt shot well wide. The other stromtrooper, stark white, started to turn as just closed on him. She leant up and placed on foot on his thigh, using the purchase to lift herself up for a swing for his head. The stun baton had enough force to knock him cold without the jolt of electricity.

Vexen used him for cover as she fired three darts at the other, the second one finding a gap in the armour plates and knocking him cold. Now the gate was locked shut and the trooper below unable to get out of the pen.

 

[Micah Talith]

Location: Slave Pens
Allies: [member="Abel"] | [member="Vexen"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | @Micah Talith
Enemies: [member="TR-8R"] "Hunter" | [member="Cameron Centurion"]


It began as a soft keening cry.

OUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT. LEAVE NOW OR JOIN US.

Off in the distance, the sound grew in volume and breadth. The Talith narrowed his eyes, hidden under the Cloak of Aatrox bright twin suns would peer towards the slave pens. A distinct crawl ran up his spine, and he could feel the touch of dark power lingering like a miasma. Manipulating and controlling.

His tracking of his uncle would wane. Disappearing from his view.

"Oh, but you are not the only one with tricks, uncle." plucking one of the talisman's from around his neck, he curled it around his palm. Micah's Force Tracker Talisman had a primary two fold effect. One, it allowed him to magnify his natural psychometic and Force tracking abilities even further than normal. Two, it allowed him to much like a Force Bond tracker, to get a degree of awareness to the proximity, distance, and emotional state of sapients that have a strong bond; much like family, friends, apprentices, masters and close combat buddies.

With a wry grin despite the grim surroundings, Micah would focus upon that to be able to distinguish the general area his uncle was in.