Public Clutches of the Frozen Hand

[Yularen Nova]

The trip back to his vessel was short with the use of trams and repulsorlifts. Coupled with his long legs the trip was relatively short, but even still he had hoped that the mysterious vessels would have fled. Or did he? There was always a fire burning in his stomach, one that told him to prove himself to everyone around him. Its the fire that he attributed his rise to the rank of Fleet Admiral to begin with, though some would say it was nepotism even though he was one of the highest ranking admirals before his sister in law became Diktat. To him, battle in space was a way to communicate, to debate.

And he hated losing.

He hated people who gave up even more.

So when he walked onto the circular bridge of his highly modified Colony-Class battlecruiser he smirked when he saw the tactical readout still displayed massive fleet before them. He didn't need the rest of the home fleet. To him, this battle was more than even. In fact, he felt the enemy was at a disadvantage. He sat in his rather comfortable captain's chair and looked to his Flag Captain and nodded.

"Is my vessel ready for combat?" The captain saluted before speaking.

"The Ascendant Justice is ready and yours to command." he said, giving the official command of the vessel to Yularen. Satisfied, Yularen nodded and turned his eyes back to the tactical. They were moving forward, a diamond formation. The Praetor was likely their flag and it was well protected by the formation, but that wasn't a problem.

"Launch only our fighters for now, the 201st should suffice, the entire wing. Relay my orders to the Event Horizon and Shadow of Corell, advance on the enemy slowly and move them and their escorts to create a crossfire on the enemy vessels. They've failed to respond but we will wait until they are in optimal firing range for the Golan. Once they're there there isn't much stopping us from wiping out their entire fleet. We move forward at full speed on intercept trajectory with the lead vessel of their diamond formation and prepare our broadsides. We may lack numbers, but we outgun them easily. We'll act as bait to draw them in."

Slowly the vessels lurched and began moving towards their positions as the enemy approached. No shots were fired, but a swarm of fighters was expelled from the various hangars of the large battlecruiser.

Cynthia Alucard Adam Versili

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Alana Sunrider Gryylarc

If Alana needed time. Then that is what Aaran would give her. She was kind enough to catch the spear, stopping it from slicing the Padawan to ribbons. The least he could do was repay the favour in some way. If he could buy the single minute that Alana needed to execute her plan. Then that would be enough. Of course, that was easier said than done. His opponent was not only a picture of the Wookiee's trademark berserk strength. But his skill with a saber was no joke. He was simply too fast, too strong for Aaran's defense to hold long enough for Alana to do whatever it was she was planning.

So it was time to change the rules. Taking the split-second between Gryylarc's strikes. He moved. The Wookiee would see it. The Padawan's look of stoic focus switching into one of an audacious grin. Deciding to utterly abandon his careful defense to try and further unbalance his opponent with overwhelming offense. Quick, rapid slashing erupted out from the Padawan. Faster than his previous quick thrusts of Makashi. The Force suging through his veins like fire as he began to draw on his own enjoyment of a good fight, as well as Gryylarc's own aggression in an attempt to hold the line long enough to turn the tide.

 

[Gryylarc]

Aaran Tafo Alana Sunrider

That weightless blade came in fast, in unstructured ways, and the bulky spear's momentum had its instants of liability. Aaran's lightsaber caught Gryylarc's right forearm, a glancing blow but one that filled the old Wookiee's mind with searing pain. He drew back and froze the spear in a solid guard.

"RrrrARRHH."

At his belt, a little translator droid twittered to life. "Lord Gryylarc congratulates you on a blow well struck and informs you that your martial courage has earned his respect. He invites you both, with what I believe is a degree of sincerity, to the Dark Side."

Gryylarc chuckled deep in his throat. That fething droid.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

HOTH ENCLAVE

Tiland Kortun 's vision infiltrated Quill's dreams and woke him from a fitful sleep, chillier than normal. The dream stuck with him as he made himself some hot chocolate, cleared the snow from the front walk, and checked the sensor logs. The system got more traffic since the Outer Planets Alliance moved in. Made his skin crawl, frankly: every new sensor contact meant potential company.

He mulled over the vision - it was clearly a vision - against the background of routine. It took him about two hours to decide to go, flip through comms for directionality, and prep his old ship for a jaunt to the Core.