Chazwa's Conflict [The Republic]

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Chazwa; Demanding Republic Assistance​

When you were the dominant government in the galaxy, you had to make sure everyone beneath your umbrella was appeased. For the record, Chazwa was not appeased.
Chazwa was an important planet to the Republic, because of their dominance over the Parlemain Trade Route and strong networking hub for traders, merchants and even smugglers (shh). However, the chilly planet was presently compromised with a conflict that was preventing any imports or exports from passing through the trade route.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Solan's feet were moving as quickly as they could carry him. Unfortunately, to stave off the cold, he'd put on a little extra weight around his midsection which prevented the fluidity and acceleration he would have liked at this moment. Still, he reached the transmission room in enough time to send a correspondence to the main senate building within the core of Republic space.

The people of Chazwa needed help, and as the junior representative it was Solan's duty to send an alert on the senator's behalf. He was detained -- severely held hostage by The Clog. The entire governmental structure was being held hostage by The Clog, a pathetic but well-armed militia, and would remain so until an order to wipe out Stone-dwellers had been executed. Hurridly, his pudgy fingers danced across the keyboard to type out a brief, but desperate summary outlining the details of what The Republic would face when they came to assist.

The message's contents informed the senate of what was going on. The summary, as detailed by a stenographer passed through to The Senate, is below.

CHAZWA'S CONFLICT
Historically, the planet's citizens could never see eye to eye. Two rivaling clans, The Clog and The Stone-dwellers, inhabited the civilized areas. Over the past few months however, their conflict has grown and influenced the a majority of the population, even going so far as to have The Clogs having a primary influencer within the organization that controlled in and outbound traffic. This of course meant that The Stones had to have an influencer in the council of trade; which resulted in a standstill of any activities that provided a foundation for the planet's infrastructure.

The situation has escalated to the point that all trade operations have come to stand-still and the local government is being held hostage until a mass genocide is issued against The Stone-dwellers.

Solan was no longer available for contact, due to unforeseen occurances.

Spoiler

Objectives: Liberate the government officials
Resolve the conflict between The Stone-dwellers and The Clogs [The Clogs are hostile]

*This has already been approved to act on by the Senate. All members of The Republic are encouraged to join.

 

[Matreya]

Asher stood silently among the Stone Dwellers. He had come to the planet to aid in the calming of the dual power holding species for the planet. Glancing around himself for a bit he shrugged. They all seemed to ignore him, bent on finishing whatever job they had begun when their enemies became hostile.

Tapping his comlink he spoke, "Asher North checking in. Moving to halt the conflict housed nearby." The obvious anger from the The Clogs was unwrought and therefore battled by allies to the planet. His immediate decision came quickly, go to the nearest fight and subdue all involved before moving to the next.

Yes Asher was a Padawan, but where the average newcomer hadn't any true devastating upsides, he did. Bred to a Dark Jedi family, the man grew up taught how to take others out. Since having changed to the Republic his mission had changed, but the overall danger didnt. Hell being a Polydroxol he could regrow a lost limb in a matter of a few minutes.

 

[Serah Oricion]

Yusan's body and face were obscured by dark robes and a cloak with a hood that came down and shrouded him, his eyes clear beneath the hood though a he looked over the area that he now stood on. Diplomatic situations were always the least entertaining if there wasn't something fun to do afterwards, but hey who ever said this job was suppose to be fun.

His burned and scared face remained calm and straight as he listened to the series of events and stood there waiting for someone to get an update or not. Under the cloak and robes he wore his armor, it prepared for what would come of this entire venture onto Chazwa. His hand touching his saber lightly as he waited for someone to act, either in aggression or not, no for now he would see what would happen on its own.

[member="Asher"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Jsc]

New Iritsa Starport
Clog Territory
Chazwa

Choosing Sides​

Political turmoil had a ripple effect. Sam Jhovna and The Kingfisher, (Her private corvette,) had arrived in system promptly and then quickly attempted an illegal landing on the struggling planet. After the short military intervention by the Clog Air Force and the local Starport customs security officers, Sam and her entire crew were taken prisoner. ...It had been a busy morning.

Apparently when the Clog said No. They meant No.

"Single file. Stay in line. No talking."

Their guards were grunts. Ugly, dark, dirty, and wearing gaudy equipment. Sam made a note of their dominate posture as she and her 30 other crew members walked through the station. It was martial law here already but the starport was full to bursting. They had plenty of onlookers. Here inside, the stun-cuffed crew members were being herded towards small number of awaiting military vehicles just beyond the glass exit doors. Probably for transportation to a prison on the other side of the continent. Their starship was likewise being prepped from storage on the outside tarmac.

Sam had half a mind to say something about her current predicament but was interrupted. That's when the real chaos happened.

In the blink of an eye someone started shooting. Blam blam. Security guards starting dying, panic took the crowds, and her own crew members began struggling just to stand. An explosion here, a dead Clog there, and the clamoring panic of a thousand moving bodies all at once. The crowd thinned, either diving into cover or fleeing into the exits. Sam and her crew were quickly jumped by a pack of ravenous rebel units. Stone Dwellers in unfamiliar military uniforms. They continued to kill Clogs until the whole terminal was charred black with bodies and flash marks. The panic subsided just enough for an alien Stone Dweller male to grab Sam by the arm and shake her harshly,

"Republic. Look at me. Look at me kark you! ...Hey! We're the good guys. Got it? Good. Now, we've come to get you out of here. Stand up. Stand up damn it."

"Where!? Why?" Sam sputtered in a daze of shock and awe.

"Now ain't the time to explain. There are more on the way. Get your people to the trucks outside and scavenge any weapons you can along the way. It's going to be a bumpy ride into town. We'll come back for your ship later. ...No! Later. Now move! Move move move!"

Sam stumbled to stand. The firefight encapsulated her and her men. The stuncuffs hadn't been removed and it was terrifying picking up an alien rifle for the first time too. She took heart and blasted off a companion's restraints. He in turn, fried hers. Together with her bridge crew, Sam began herding her people towards the outside vehicles. The resistance fighters were too busy fighting and dying to notice.

It was time to go and the gun shots never ceased. It was time to join the resistance.

...

 

[Erinyes Draclau]

There was a faint shudder that ran along the length of Erinyes Draclau’s spine as the deep meditation into farsight brought a rather troubling flash of images.

A young sentient, with a portly belly in a room. Yes, in dire need. He was anxious. But for what?

The visions would come and go. Sometimes, depending on the will of the Force would be crystal clear as if viewing through a glasteel port. Others were as murky as the sludge on Hutta’s factory river basins.

It was troubling. Troubling indeed.

A slight frown slightly furrowed upon the Shi’ido princess’s brow, her placid gaze turning towards her students before her. One in particular, [member="Jannik Morlandt"] befell her attention.

Would he perhaps, hold a clearer mirror from which to peer upon?

 

[Darth Vazela]

| [member="Erinyes Draclau"] | [member="Sam Jhovna"] | [member="Yusan Fenn"] | [member="Asher"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"] |

​

Coruscant, two days ago;

"That's him. The one that turned up out of no where."
"I heard he was a Sith Lord..."
"Darth Vazela was his name."
"Did you hear about Togoria?"
"I heard he is in our custody now. He serves for the Jedi Order now..."
"I don't trust him."

The hooded figure walked among the hallways of the Jedi Temple upon Coruscant, hands to his side, facial features concealed. As he walked, he could feel the eyes upon him, almost hear the younger Jedi Initiates and Padawans whisper and discuss among themselves. He knew it was the same for the Jedi Knights and Masters that served the Galactic Republic, but at least they had the common sense and courtesy to not allow him or anyone else to know of their distrust and/or discomfort.

It had been a month since the trial of Darth Vazela and during the process, the gravity of the war crimes he had committed against the Galactic Republic, specifically during the conflicts on Metalorn and Togoria, had all been revealed, debated and charged with. It was also during the trial that the man known as Vazela to all had revealed himself to be an individual by the name of Vilox Pazela. That he had ventured from the comfort and safety of the Fringe Confederation on his own accord to the same building he was currently walking through on his own accord. That he was no longer a Sith, but indeed, an Force-sensitive that had the potential to become a Jedi Master. He had the power, he had the knowledge, he had the ability, but not yet was Vilox Pazela a Jedi.

He was hopeful by the end of the Chazwa conflict, that he could prove his pedigree and join the list of Lords of the Sith that had been redeemed into Jedi Masters.

Turning a corner, he approached the Republic transport that was picking up the Jedi task force set for Chazwa and boarded. Lowering the cowl of his dark robes, the Jedi Master took a seat and strapped himself in. Later, the transport would take off, course set for Chazwa.

----​

Chazwa;

The journey between Coruscant and Chazwa had felt like a relative short one for Vilox. He had spent the majority of it with his head bowed, eyes closed and a look of intense concentration or great enlightenment itched over it. The company he had kept on board the ship had watched him with great interest, but none had felt like approaching him for a conversation. He sensed a mixture of curiosity, fear and levels of anger, especially among the officers that were near him. He paid them no attention.

When the transport arrived in the land point for everyone, he unbuckled himself from the seat and rose. He was the first to the ramp and first to lower it, stepping outside and into the cold. Curato salva, a technique in the Force, were used by Jedi, Sith and Force-sensitives alike to get over conditions that normal individuals would falter, unless they wore something warm. With only a dark, yet thin robe for garments, others could be forgiven to suspect that Vilox Pazela would feel the freeze. But he was relatively comfortable. He waited for directions. He wasn't in charge of the expedition and had no right to issue orders yet.

 

[Serah Oricion]

Yusan listened as reports came in and soon he found himself conflicted, stones were causing an uprising and clogs remained in there with hostages. He tapped his hands against his leg and looked at the Jedi near him, or rather the former Sith [member="Vilox Pazela"]. His voice was clear and calm as he looked at the man from under his own hood. "Jedi Pazela, no? I think that things are going to become very very interesting soon, i think its time we got to the main government building and stopped this riot before it gets even further out of hand." He started walking without a single additional word, his eyes scanning from building to building as he walked, know exactly where to go and whether the Jedi followed or not was up to him.

[member="Erinyes Draclau"] [member="Sam Jhovna"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"] [member="Asher"]

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's Paladin Class cruiser sailed over Chazwa. "Master Torrevaso, arriving with padawan [member="Hatake Mutashi"]." After hearing about the conflict, Vulpesen had been greatly disturbed by the actions of the Clogs. The master had always been a fan of freedom, hoping to stay out of politics as much as possible. However when things like genocide started to get thrown around, that was when there had to be a measurement. Taping into his comlink, Vulpesen spoke out to his fellow members of the republic. "Is there any intel on the location of the Clog leaders. Hopefully we can settle this quickly by busting whatever bunker they've holed up in."

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Hatake simply just sat on the co-pilot seat of his Master's ship. He was thankful that he wasn't piloting the ship cause that would've killed them in it. As usual, he wore his Ninja bandana and his Ninja mask that concealed his left eye and most of his face only leaving his right eye to public. He wore his Ninja outfit that was given to him by his first master on Alderaan that had throwing knives, stars, and close quarter knives along with an academy lightsaber that was given to him. After hearing that there was a huge genocide on Chazwa there had to be something done immediately about the Clogs. "So, what's our first objective Master? Does this count as training?"

[member="Vulpesen"]

 

[Darth Vazela]

Vilox nodded towards [member="Yusan Fenn"] and followed after the politician, his green, greyish eyes on the man. He had been present at his trial and had said a few things before leaving the court after the decision had been reached. He presumed that this would be an interesting encounter, the Chazwa conflict excluded.

 

[Jsc]

New Iritsa Starport
Clog Territory, Disputed
Chazwa

Soldiers of Fortune​

​

Boarding the trucks was no small task. The Stone resistance soldiers had met their match inside the hub and their offensive was slowing down already. Clog air support could be here any moment and Sam had a terrible taste in her mouth for this whole affair already.

"Sam! Here! ...Sam. Hop in. We're leaving."

Reaching up the blond Padawan took her companions hand and jumped up into the truck's covered bed. Two Stone soldiers took to the driver's seats and fired up the engine. As red flashes of violence erupted near the glass exit, all of the trucks began to move towards the outer gate. They were leaving.

An explosion rocked the tarmac as the glass doors of the hub blasted themselves open. The last of the Stone soldiers outside of the hub gave up the fight and made a mad dash for the trucks. Sam reached out and helped to pull up a female Stone soldier just in time.

"Welcome aboard."

"Bout time. ...You Republic?"

"That's us. Thanks for the rescue. By the way."

"...Weren't here for you. But the Captain insisted we cut you loose."

"Well, tell him thanks then. We appreciate it."

"Save it. We're not out of her yet. It's a long road back to the Districts and the Clog control the skies."

"Oh? Think they'll pull a raid on the trucks?"

"It's likely. Depends upon how the other conflicts are going?"

Sam looked around the truck and found her words moving,

"Other conflicts? How many units are you?"

"Lot's. We've pulled a fair number of raids ourselves these last few days. The Clogs are forcing people into registration. Then the ghettos, the political segregation, and the work camps. It's only a matter of time before they start the mass killing. The Stone people aren't just taking it sitting down. We're fighting back."

"What's the score?"

"Good question. We we're aiming to blow the tower. Knock out the Clog's eyes and ears. If we can let the smugglers out and lift this trade halt? ...Might stand a chance of getting some real support down here."

"Well. The Republic Expeditionary Force is on the way. We won't let these Clog's take the whole planet. Not by force. Not on our watch."

"Yeah sure. Whatever you say. ...Look, it's bad. It's bad all over. I don't think this is the kind of thing a few Jedi and fleet ships can clean up in just a day."

"Maybe. But we've got to try."

"Sure. ...Mm, so. Can you use that thing? The rifle, I mean."

"Oh. This? Um... No. Not really."

"Figures..,"

The Stone female just shook her head and looked away. Back out the end of the truck and down the roadway. The black road was dusty, empty, and the convoy was kicking up dust for meters around. No sign of Clog fighters in the skies yet either. A good sign. They might have made a clean get away in all the confusion.

"Um... So. Where are we going?"

"Captain Miller's depot. It's a resistance station in the Districts. One of ours."

"And my crew?"

"Not my decision. You'll have to talk to the Captain."

"Oh. I see."

"Just sit tight Republic. This whole thing. All this running. ...It's far from over. Trust me."

The female soldier squinted hard against the bumpy road and looked back out into the distance again. She was so calm amidst the storm. Sam envied her composure. Leaning her back against the bulk of the truck's bed and resting the alien rifle in her lap. She wasn't sure this was a good idea anymore. Things were about to get a lot worse.

...

 

[RC-1025]

Chawza Airspace
En Route to New Irista
Chawza

Clone Commando RC-1025 watched the landscape rush beneath him as the pilot flew him to his drop point. It seemed so familiar to him but as always why eluded him. He remembers snippets of memories riding in the back of a gunship looking out the back but details and specifics were always lost on him. The Republic has tried their best when they found him wondering a CIS ship. They tried to explain who he was and why he can't remember anything but they said the only thing that can fix the broken soldier is time. Time was something RC-1025 knew he didn't have a lot of. He knew he was a clone and at one point there were many like him. Now in this distant future he was almost truly one of a kind, a relic of an age long forgotten, even to him.

However he didn't let his memory loss stop him from doing his duty for the government that made him. He was still an incredible asset though a bit damaged. It made him feel better being on missions instead of being under constant surveillance and tests while he goes through sleepless nights wondering why he can't remember. A mission gave him focus, a purpose, it made him feel more than just damaged goods. From the sound of this mission it seemed like something he had been trained for. Two clans on the planet Chazwa have escalated their rivalry to all out war, with the hostile group, the Clogs, taking hostage of the government officials and even a Jedi. Though Intel stated that Jedi are already planetside rallying the other group, the Stone-dwellers, to attack, it was felt that official Republic forces were needed to be dispatched to show support to their long time and important ally. Due to it being a civil war, the Republic felt that it couldn't choose a side in this conflict.

That's were RC-1025 comes in. His mission is to free the government officials along with the Jedi and get them to safety so they could conduct peace talks off planet in a neutral, Republic controlled zone. His orders were to engage only when attacked and limit collateral damage along with civilian lives. Such a task felt familiar to him, like he has done something similar in the past, but this time something was different. He knew back then he had brothers to support him but now in the present he was alone, one of the last symbols of the Clone Wars.

"Drop in 10," the pilot said over the comm.
"Rog," was the reply.
The pilot was a local smuggler the Republic hired to drop him in the city. It seemed this planet was crawling with them. Intel stated that the Outer Blocks toward the west was where most of the fighting was happening with the Inner Square controlled by the Clogs. It said that they were evacuating civilians out in anticipation of the fighting drawing closer. The Clone Commando checked his jump pack and mentally counted down until it was time. He stepped off the ramp and into the sky. He fell toward the Inner Square where skyscrapers and the government buildings were located. He wove through some of the taller buildings until he reached the appropriate altitude he activated his jump pack. With the force slowing his fall, the Commando landed and rolled on a mid level building and quickly scrambled for cover. In under a minute he changed his DC-17m from blaster to sniper mode. He took a quick peek over cover to see if his entrance was noticed.

 

[Darth Vazela]

| [member="Yusan Fenn"] | [member="Vulpesen"] | [member="Hatake Mutashi"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"] |

Vilox lifted his chrono to his eyes and listened to the transmission sent by Vulpesen. "Interesting," he thought to himself. "My first operation as a Jedi, for the Republic and he is here. Curious. Is it because of me or was he sent here before he was going to, regardless? Presumably, I'll discover the answers shortly." As he walked beside Senator Fenn, Pazela replied to the Jedi Master. "This is Vilox Pazela. I am currently accompanying Senator Fenn to the Governmental building. We'll be quelling the rioters." He shut down his chrono and then slid his hands into his pockets. Turning his gaze to Yusan, he asked. "Would you like to take the lead here? I do not mind." He gave him a small smile.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

POSTING AS: THE CLOGS

THE SPACEPORT
[member="RC-1025"] | [member="Sam Jhovna"] | [member="Asher"]
Heavy boots crunched against the rubble that remained from The Stone-dwellers' firing back. Many corpses of their men littered the vicinity, some of their bodies still smoking from the bolts that had pierced through various zones and snuffed their existence. The reports had come in rather frantically over the clog frequences. Apparently the core of The Republic had sent assistance to the Stone-dwellers' cause. How noble.

This would, of course, only end badly for them all. And their little dogs too.

A single command rang out from one of the militia's lieutenant's; "Track those trucks and increase the density of patrols around the Gold Plaza. Prevent anymore inbound ships from coming to this port, another slip like this and you'll all be part of the genocide with those worthless Stone-dwellers."
A salute was issued by a scrawny clog, who darted off after the nearest speeder. It was a fast little bike, undetected for the most part as he avoided the main roads, but he trailed the vehicles that departed --- sending correspondences with coordinates the entire way.

Not bad, for a little guy.

THE GOLD PLAZA
[member="Vulpesen"] | [member="Vilox Pazela"] | [member="Hatake Mutashi"] | [member="Yusan Fenn"]
Was where all the action was happening.
Well, not really, but that's where the leaders had positioned themselves audaciously. Currently armed to the teeth, although concealed beneath long trenchcoats that billowed when they walked, the Clog General paced about the group of politicians that were bound and cuffed in a circle beneath an atrium in the middle of the plaza. Guards were stationed about the circle of hostages, their weapons of mid-tech angled toward the ground in a resting position.

"My patience is running thin, and your people are starving senator." Spoke the general with a deep drawl. His one good eye flicked toward the stoic politician, who remained tight-lipped. Well, I suppose his other eye flicked too, but it was concealed beneath an eye-patch.

"Issue the order for genocide and we'll open the trade route for necessities.

Need I remind you that my forces are in control of the rations, senator? Your people are starving."

A beep on his arm begged his attention, and he paid it.

"Feth." He breathed angrily, just as Solan was dragged in by a burly henchman. The general had just been informed that reinforcement's from The Republic had arrived. He would not voice this however, so as not to give the hostages hope. Instead, his actions were swift and curt. With a single motion from the holster on his hip, to an aiming position, the general's blaster ensured Solan's neck snapped back and a splatter of crimson erupted from the back of his skull.
Nothing personal, just business.

"Eyes on the skies and exits, boys."

 

[Jsc]

Miller's Depot
Outside New Irista


It was a bumpy ride and I can't believe I fell asleep. The trucks brakes woke me up with a start. She was still there and waving all of us to get out of the trucks. The words that fell from my mouth were rusty and tired,

"Millers Depot?"

She nodded and beckoned us to follow. I looked at the rest of the crew. Same as me. Dusty and tired. Mixed with a little bit of skepticism and fear. We must all have been feeling it. This mission couldn't have been going worse.

"In here."

I didn't know her name but her confidence meant it didn't matter. This little soldier girl who was tougher than all of us combined. She smashed off the chains around the door to a service station that looked long abandoned. This whole shipyard was a mess. Ancient and filled with broken husks of ages long past. If there were secrets here? Nobody would even bother to look.

We wandered inside like a crowd of lost children. Some of us had rifles while the others just managed lead pipes. I doubt some of the corvettes engineers even knew how to use those tools for war. As my mind wandered the Stone woman pulled off a tarp from the far corner and smashed a hidden switch with her arm. The floor began to churn and the sound of metal gears could be felt underneath us. The floor opened wide like a pharos lost tomb. Revealing a wide stairway leading down into the concrete. There was faint running lights to illuminate the path. But only faint.

"This hasn't been used in a while?" I reckoned.

"No. When trade was bustling we used other tunnels and entrances into the Metro Lines. Smugglers love that kinda stuff. All the hallways had power, the railcars allowed for transportation, and the gates could fit a Rancor's Cage inside with ease. Used to run cargo myself between the Mines and the Lower Plazas. ...But. The Clog own the popular electric tunnels now. We're stuck with the abandoned lines and the flooded zones."

She waved us forward into the dark,

"Close the door behind you. You'll get used to the smell."

...

 

[Vulpesen]

"Everything counts as training." I looked down at the beep on my console, noticing the attempted call. I twas a signature I didn't recognize. Still, such was common on a mission like this. Clicking in, I found my eyes widening in surprise. I had heard that the man had made it into the Republic, but to let a mass murderer like this on such an important mission? It was insane. Still, the force had its plans and I was not one to question such things. "Very well, We'll be over you shortly."

As my ship sailed over the senator and ex-sith, I unbuckled myself and motioned for [member="Hatake Mutashi"] to do the same. "Alright, show time lets move." I moved to the back of the ship, grinning as the ramp opened. Oh how I loved doing this. A green light lit up above the door, and with a large lean forward, I dropped. Down I went, of course the ship had been flown near enough to the ground for me to survive with a little use of the force, but it was still an exhilarating feel to dive like this. Yes, showtime indeed.


[member="Vilox Pazela"] [member="Yusan Fenn"]

 

[RC-1025]

Ralso Corporation Skyscraper Roof Top
Inner Square
New Irista, Chazwa

The Clone Commando saw bodies line the streets. It seems that they were too busy fighting to notice a Commando. He couldn't tell which side was exactly winning. He pulled out his rifle over the edge and searched the area. He didn't see any immediate threats but he did see the Golden Plaza. He had some distance to cover but it's manageable. He looked around again to see if there were any threats he didn't see initially before he moved.

 

[Serah Oricion]

Yusan took little care to the sounds that roared in the air around them, riots and purges, anger searing a scar in this planet as it was and all he was focused on was getting to the General. And that he did with [member="Vilox Pazela"] at his back, his hands within his cloak and hidden from anyone's sight as he stepped out from the streets into the open and looked at those in the Gold Plaza. "Excuse me, where can i find the hostages so that i might exchange them with myself, after all, Vice Chancellor of the Republic is a pretty good hostage." He smiled, ok maybe he wasnt that fully anymore, but few truly knew that and the chance to have someone that would be able to keep Republic forces from murdering them after they make the mistake of killing hostages is one of the few things that this man hopefully had the brains to realize. Yusan's eyes found the dead man though, Solan, regrettable he couldn't save him too.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

As he unbuckled his belt he grabbed his equipment and followed [member="Vulpesen"] to the back of the ship. He didn't know what they were doing until he noticed the new ramp opening. As his Master leaned down and dropped Hatake took a couple step backwards and finally he ran and dived out of the ramp as if he was diving into a pool. The jump felt great and before the mysterious Jedi hit the ground he did a flip and landed on both feet with perfect balance. He waited until his Master told him what to do.

 

[The End Narrator]

“Aaralyn, where are you?” The voice of the GrandMaster echoed in her ear as she stood close to the edge of an older freighter close to a group of Clogs that were gathering their items together and appearing to be headed out of the Spaceport. Her right hand came up to her ear and gently suppressed the call button, replying in a whisper.


“Following our good friends here who just packed some good old fashioned artillery Master…” She snuck across the hull as they fired up the speeders and hover-trucks. Soon the speeders and trucks took off into the dusk, kicking up particles of debris and dust into the air as they did. At first they maintained a straight path which allowed Aaralyn to follow relatively easy. Her boots impacting vessel after vessel and occasionally a small rooftop which she skittered across to leap onto the next ship while keeping an eye on them. The Force acted as her guide, never having to rely on her eyes to guide her feet, but that suddenly changed when they shifted course.


Aaralyn came sliding to a halt, her leather boots grinding up debris from the roof grit and sending it a few dozen meters below to what would have been certain injury if she had not stopped. Her gaze remained fixated on the transports as they moved away from her. “Master, I’m losing them….”


“Has anything like that ever stopped you before?” [member="Kiskla Grayson"] retorted.


Aaralyn rolled her eyes and grumbled underneath her breath. “I don’t want to hear about this later then…” Despite it all, she knew somehow she would have to pay for it in someway, she always did. There was a simple gesture of her hand, one which extended out towards the fleeing convoy of hover vehicles. She could feel their presence flowing through the Force as well as the passengers within. There was a sudden onset of panic and fear within the vehicles as they began to slow down and suddenly stop, jolting the Clogs forward as the invisible energies of the Force gripped them tightly. Her muscles tightened, hand closing into a fist as the focal point of the Force planted firmly into the front most vehicle. One by one, the sounds of the over exerted engines cried out into the night, white plumes of smoke began filling the cabins and then the air outside of the speeders until the engines themselves exploded and caught fire. As black smoke began to fill the sky, billowing upwards, Aaralyn let go of the vehicles through the Force, allowing them to drop to the ground with a *THUD*.


She felt the panic of the passengers as they quickly rushed out of the vehicles to avoid catching fire themselves. Unfortunately for the Clogs in the lead vehicle, they just weren't fast enough. The fire caught the ammunition in the rear of the speeder and exploded, sending a shockwave of kinetic energy in different directions. Bodies of dead, critically wounded or just slightly injured Clogs went in different directions. Aaralyn herself ducked behind a container on the rooftop to avoid any type of fallout from the energy as it rippled overhead, and with it a body of a screaming Clog who impacted a large freighter behind her with a bonecrushing crunch. She felt the chaotic ripples of confusion, anger and sorrow through the Force which caused her to peak over the crate. The black plumes of smoke filled the evening sky as the Clogs made an attempt to re-group.

On that note, Aaralyn took the chance to make herself known, she quickly came out from behind the crate and leaped off the building and onto the ground. As soon as she hit the ground, the attention of the Clogs went to her. "Well, that was a big oops..." She muttered softly under her breath, but apparently not soft enough.


“Wait, what is oops?” The voice of [member="Kiskla Grayson"] echoed in her ear, her tone sounding both curious and maybe even amused. “Oh, are you serious?” She said with a tone of disbelief, although it was a sarcastic in nature, she couldn't believe what she saw on the holofeed.


“I told you I didn’t want to hear it, and to be honest it wasn’t my fault.” She held her breath for a moment, exhaling slowly as she unclasped her lightsabers from her belt. “They caused their own collateral damage.” She looked back behind her and made a motion towards the building she just jumped off of. “Besides, you should have seen the one that went over top, if this were Smashball, I would have scored huge points…”