Dominion Family Feud | GA Dominion of Thracior

[Shattered_Mirror]

BYOO - Botor Aftermath.

​

Jianna’s eyes casually devoured the information that populated each of the datapads. As much of the data that was located within was nothing out of the ordinary, the Captain was able to comprehend that literally nothing has come of their sensor sweeps in this sector during the last dirty shift. All that information pointed to an uneventful shift ahead of her, whilst they combed the stars in search of their errant quarry. It wasn’t hard for those pirates to lose their pursuers, as they made the jump to hyperspace before their warships could be catalogued appropriately. To be perfectly fair to her crew, was entirely tricky as they were dealing with the fact that they were massively outnumbered at the time. So, there was a part of her mind that considered this little quest to be nothing more than a casual jaunt across the Core - searching for wounded Pirates.

As the last of the data was taken into account, Jianna beckoned over one of her attendants to take the datapads away and see that their information was uploaded to the warship’s mainframe and subsequently flash-cleared from the devices. It was an unnecessary step in some Commander’s eyes - but the Hapan-hybrid wasn’t a conventional officer. She preferred to ensure that the data was stored behind the warship’s encryption barriers - which meant in the eventuality of her ship being boarded, the enemy could access their files. Sure, that would be a massive mistake - but therein was the beauty of her cunning ploy. If they made a single mistake when trying to brute force their way into the mainframes - they’d ensure that all of the secure documents that posed security risks would’ve been wiped clean.

All that would be left behind would be the tedious reports that threatened to stupify her senses. Now imagine what they’d do to Pirates or Enemy Combatants? They’d believe that they struck proverbial gold. Hell, it was likely they’d think that amongst the tedium of the various reports lay coded secrets that they could exploit - if only they had the proper cipher. Yet, when none would be found - Jianna would have the last laugh. They would have wasted so much time, and for what? To learn that the crew was bored out of their minds while enforcing the laws of their land?

Just thinking about that eventuality caused the Captain to chuckle softly as she took yet another sip of her bitter brew.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. Did you say something?”

The voice of her second in command drew Jianna’s gaze away from the descending cup, as she fought back the surprise that flashed through her mind. Damn that man’s silent, She mused.​

“No, no, Commander. I didn’t say anything. I was just trying to inject some excitement into this dreadfully boring affair by thinking of the Eidolon getting boarded.”

His face, pale and wholly patrician, soured slightly. Clearly, the Commander wasn’t very impressed with where her mind ventured. She didn’t care, but it was annoying, all the same, to see him visibly express his disdain. Must be because I beat him out of the Captain’s chair, Jianna mused.

“That’s how you’ve passed the time since taking your station, Captain?

She smiled, warmly, before taking another sip of her ReCaf.​

“You know, Commander. It’s a wonderful exercise that successful Captain’s employ to keep themselves sharp. It’s also something that helps you think of any possibility, should the warship be boarded. Frankly, it perturbs me that my XO isn’t constantly thinking of ways to protect our dear Eidolon.”

Her smile peeled back into a serpentine grin, knowing full well that she was on the verge of pissing the Commander off.

“Perhaps that’s why they made me Captain, rather than you.”​

 

[Republic Engineering]

Objective // One - Infiltrate & Dismantle
Allies // Galactic Alliance.
Enemies // Witch Coven.
Equipment // See Signature.
Complement // Sigma Squad.

Gideon's Helmet tapped the side of his sniper rifle as he tried to clear his thoughts. There was an unbidden sense of urgency that flared up behind his eyes. He felt like abandoning his duties and saving the green-skinned woman was the right thing to do. It might make her like him just as much as he liked her. No. That wasn't true. They were comrades in arms who shared the battlefield. Nothing more. That's not true. He saw the way she looked at him from time to time. The subtle nods, and the kind smile here and there. Those were clear signs as any that she was interested in him. No - the Commando pulsed. She was nothing more than a friend. Don't lie to yourself, his subconscious whispered. She needs you - now more than ever! That's not true - Gideon said as he clenched his teeth. She's capable of handling herself and doesn't need me - or anyone to hold her damned hand.

He struggled with his thoughts for what seemed like ages until a voice speared through the fog and brought a measure of clarity back. It was the voice of Commander Maynard - a notable Jedi Warrior that served within the ranks of the Galactic Alliance. In the past, Gideon held some sort of contempt towards the Jedi - simply because they were betrayed by the Sith and let the Core Worlds crumble to ruins. Many of his brothers and sisters died during those tumultuous weeks, and the Commando placed their deaths on the Jedi Order. However, as the man was forced to fight alongside them, his hatred of them began to soften. The Jedi were doing everything they could to earn back the respect that was lost - and Gideon couldn't help but admire that.

In response to that Jedi's words - Gideon closed his eyes and drew in a mouthful of recycled atmosphere. :: On it, Commander. :: He replied, before linking his Helmet's visor with the sight on his sniper rifle.

Everything before them seemed clear, but that wasn't right. The Witches in the distant settlement were supposedly drawing themselves out of their hovels - meaning that they knew about the Vanguard approaching their location. That meant that somewhere between those two points - someone was pulling their strings in the vain hope of dispatching their opposition long before they reached the distant settlement. His scopes showed nothing on the third sweep, as did the rest of his Squad's. However, as Dynamo and Whisper were located elsewhere - they didn't have the greatest draw on the grounds before the Vanguard. Gideon was the only one, and Commander Maynard was relying on him to cover their advance.

"Get it together," Gideon whispered to himself.​

It was then that a moment of inspiration struck. Gideon didn't utilize his armour's defences against mentalism simply because of his injury, and how it would impede his duties if it was active for too long. However, it was by that act of playing it safe that the advance was impeded - especially when there was a Coven of Illusionists hiding amongst the plains. So, as the Commando exhaled, he activated the stabilizer mask - filling his addled brain with the subtle pulse of bioelectricity. For a brief moment - all Gideon could see or feel was pain. It was agonizing and aggravated his injury - pushing back his recovery and likely forcing him back into the confines of a bacta tank. But, all of that didn't matter now.

He had a job to do.

Focusing the pain elsewhere by clamping his teeth down on his tongue - Gideon was finally able to see without fireworks clouding his vision. The Commando spotted their quarry with such clarity, brought about by the purification and redirection of pain. A Witch stood several hundred metres away from the advancing Alliance Warparty. Her hands were outstretched, and a swirling violet mist surrounded her tribal-clad form. He didn't have long, but the Commando shifted his position ever so slightly and drew a bead on his target. With practiced ease, the Lieutenant drew in another breath and squeezed the trigger as he exhaled. The Witch didn't have time to see her end coming, as her concentration was fixed elsewhere. Thunder peeled in the distance, and the Witch vanished as everything she was and would ever be - painted the surface of Thracior.

:: One... Hostile Force-wielder, :: Gideon grunted, as he deactivated the mental stabilizer. :: Terminated. Proceed with caution. ::​

| Din Marren | Maynard Treicolt | Bernard | Gala Geert |​

 

[Bernard]

\\ Objective 1, POINTS HIS STRONG FINGER OUR WAY
\\ Thracior, rendezvous with the Witches
\\ Thematic ~ Nonagon Infinity ~ Track 04 ~ People-Vultures
\\ Team Cresh Maynard Treicolt , Gala Geert , Din Marren , Republic Engineering , @Others

​

Witches were uncharted territory for the white-haired padawan. He'd faced his share of dark siders, but never any of the esoteric traditions that echo those developed on Dathomir. He'd read records of their abilities, about the duplicitous nature of their magick's craft, but theory hadn't yet succeeded in preparing him adequately for any first encounter. The added layer of uncertainty did little to soothe his already troubled mind. During times like these, he would have liked some of his companions' bravado to rub off on him. Alas, he was not to be so fortunate.

His heartbeat had heightened in frequency. He noticed his breathing had quickened despite the relaxed pace the group was advancing at. Were his nerves getting to him? He was well aware of the doubts that clung to his being like mould to bark, but never before had he observed his uncertainty cause a reaction to quite this degree.

He blinked a few times, suddenly noticing the purple haze that began to cloud his vision. He focused on the world around him more intently, trying to pierce the amethyst veil. To his relief, his eyes locked onto the man he'd been shadowing this entire time. Maynard's armoured form gave him something clear to centre on. The knight's experience on the stage of war offered a degree of stability to Bernard that eased the disquiet he felt towards this mission. He felt his subconscious self recoil at the implied admittance of inadequacy. Maynard was a greater warrior, Bernard knew that to be factual, but the pride he held subconsciously suffered the wound to its grasp upon his sense of self with ever-mounting rancour.

The static-infused words of his companions echoed through his ear-piece comlink as he felt gravity's claws envelop his body with its familiar inevitability. He watched Maynard's form pass him by through the violet fog as he tumbled through the sudden hollow space beneath his feet. His mind still reeled in surprise, each impact on the incline rattling his focus until eventually, all his momentum ceased in one final and incredibly painful crash.

He'd tumbled down the sudden ravine and hit the ground with enough force for his body to bounce into a large rock formation jutting out from the ground. When he came to after a few seconds of unconsciousness he felt a dull pain spread through his body, his breaths came short, and a smear of blood coated his sleeve as he wiped away the cold sensation along the lower half of his face. The synthflesh that coated his wounds had ruptured in several places. A most unfortunate development.

 

[Aston Jacobs]

Objective: Peacekeeping
Adhira Chandra Auteme Astraea Tagge Zahara Myneto

"You're late,"

Aston glanced to the Lieutenant who was in in her was Aston assumed was her standard issue uniform. He wasn't to savvy with how the Galactic alliance conducted their troops apart from what he saw from the marines. "Yes, I'm sorry about that." Aston whispered back and then came the next words out of her mouth that gave Aston a very puzzled look. Nonetheless he glanced around and fell in line anyway. A small smile appeared on his face as stood as the marines did beside him and then the locals gave another ceremonial dance that Aston thought it looked strangely familiar. "They must be on the same page as Mr moon,sun, stars and sky." Aston whispered to the soldier right next to him. It seemed he agreed as he nodded his head but then looked forward again as not to catch the glare of the Lieutenant.

Aston took a deep breath as he glanced forward still, while poking fun at the situation also making sure that the Senator would be in safe hands. Which she was, if they intended to do something it would be incredibly foolish.

He glanced towards Astraea again and he could't help but admire her. She was being extremely professional, however it couldn't hurt to let loose every once in a while. Perhaps this wasn't the time. Then again,it may have been the only time....

"Lieutenant...." Aston said as he took a step or two forward so he could fall in line next to her. He looked over slightly as he whispered to her. "I wanted to personally apologize for being late. I'll make it up to you." Aston finished as he faced the front again. "Oh, and you look really nice. The uniform blues really bring out the color of your eyes." Aston showed her a small smile and faced the front again, before taking a step or two back to his original location.

"Smooth...." The soldier next to him said slyly.

"Shut up....." Aston replied with a smirk and he shook his head.

 

[Kestrel Dray]

T H R A C I O R
_________________________________________________________________________________________________​

Location: Fighting Pits of Thracior
With: Loske Treicolt

​

It wasn’t that long ago that she’d tasted the dirt floor of the very Colosseum they were gathered together in, now. She’d been stripped of her robes and clad in battle armor, her pleas for a peaceful resolution falling on deaf ears as the ensuing conflict unfolded and the fight for her life began.

If it wasn’t for Arekk being so quick to action, and the miracle work of Ilias Nytrau , she might not have lived to see her next Life Day celebration.

Kestrel shuddered at the thought, unconsciously rubbing her hand over the covered scar on her abdomen that bore a reminder of how close she’d come to that reality.

Her hand retracted back to her side as the door swished open and the organizer for the arena stepped in to greet them.

"Welcome Jedi. I am Balwaer! Blessings to you both on this glorious day!" The organizer’s words were courteous, but venom seethed beneath the surface, bubbling over into a hard expression that betrayed his true inner thoughts and feelings. There was no solidarity he felt towards them and what had been proposed. Beyond that, that one of their ‘Champions’ still breathed, was an affront to their culture and way of life. Kestrel could only assume he felt as much disgust as she did, by being in one another’s presence in that moment.

“Especially you, Champion. You put on quite a show to convince us of your death… a lesson to be sure,” He chuckled, glancing between both of them, “To never underestimate the wiles of a Jedi.”

Kestrel mustered a tight-lipped smile; she couldn't have been more thankful for the presence of the other Jedi at her side. He gave no time for a reaction before moving right along to his next thought, “I read over the proposals,” he said, scratching idly at his mighty double chin. “We cannot close down the arena. This has been a part of our culture for hundreds of generations, a way for criminals to redeem themselves as heroes, and wars between our two tribes to be resolved without excessive bloodshed. No. We will not give up time honored traditions for your 'gentle' ways.”

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Nar Shaddaa
Isaiah’s Dwelling
BYOO​

Sitting at the table, Isaiah simply stared at the package. The exile couldn’t bring himself to open it. It was all too coincidental, first the dream, and then the package. A weight formed in the pit of the bounty hunter’s stomach as he simply stared at the parcel a few moments before hearing a grunt coming from his bed.

Stirring the Togrutan woke up lazily, looking over to the one-time Jedi with her blue eyes, examining him. “I know that look. What’s wrong?” the humanoid asked as she dressed herself. Yet even that sight couldn’t bring a smile to Isaiah’s face, his eyes never leaving the table. His bloodshot eyes even moreso now. “Are you going to open it?”

Fully dressed in her black attire, fitting her role as an assassin the Togrutta strolled over to the table. “It could be from Agrippa.” Reaching out for it she found her hand caught in the iron grip that was Isaiah’s. His large mit engulfed the assassin’s entire wrist, the pressure he exerted enough to snap the bone if he so wished.

“No, it's not from Agrippa. It’s for me.” The words came out slow as Isaiah finally freed her, looking up and sniffling. “Well go on and get out, can’t you see I’ve got shit to do?”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes the Togrutan turned on her heels heading towards the door. “Don’t even know why I still bother with you! We have a job at 1300, be there this time! You’re on a thin line with Agrippa as is.”

“I got it.” Peridot eyes turned to watch the Togrutan leave. The mandalorian didn’t stand to open the door, didn’t follow, didn’t attempt to ease the tensions, he didn’t do anything but stare. He couldn’t find the strength. All of it had been sapped away from him.

With a slam of finality, the door shut leaving just Isaiah in the darkness. A sigh escaped the exile’s lips as he opened the package and inside a datapad. With it a note on flimsi that read “Carry on where I have failed.”

Activating the datapad, a dim blue glow illuminated Isaiah’s face. On the screen the symbol of the Galactic Alliance shown proud, before it switched to a video feed. Walking into frame, a white-haired jedi. One who looked like he’d been to the depths of hell and back. Despite the difference in hair color, Isaiah could never forget the face.

“Hello, Isaiah.”

 

[Ryv]

// Sword of the Jedi //
// Thracior //
// Seek Guidance //

"I am a Jedi, like my father before me."​

A gentle breeze rolled over the grassy plains of Thracior, washing over Ryv as it did everything else within its near omnipresent grasp. The Jedi Knight welcomed the soft touch of the wind as he descended one sweeping dune, his eyes on a distant tree dominating the horizon. A part of him regretted not joining the others in facing whatever threat these witches posed to Thracior, but for the first time in a long time, the Kiffar refused to allow an opportunity he'd longed for to pass him by. Since his master's disappearance, guidance had proven a rare thing. Ryv's friends remained open with him in regards to him not being alone in each challenge he faced, yet, he couldn't shake such feelings of isolation. Allyson, Maynard, and Loske never failed to be at his side, but the disconnect the Jedi felt to his contemporaries remained a constant.

In Ryv's quest to find answers to the many questions plaguing him, he'd learned of this ancient tree. While it lacked the Force enhancing powers of Ashla's Embrace, this site witnessed the passage of many Jedi in its long life. He hoped in exploring its twisting branches and gnarled roots, answers would find him. And if not answers, the next step in his quest to learn. Those hopes carried Ryv across the shifting sea of grass, soon seeing him to the base of the monolithic tree. Standing so tall, Ryv felt a sense of vertigo as he looked up its spiraling surface. It swayed in the wind, creaking from sheer size and presence combined. The Jedi Knight couldn't begin to fathom what this being of countless years witnessed. How many others stood where he did? How many were fortunate enough to see the majesty of this ancient being, inhabiting a field of verdant life?

A gloved hand brushed the rough surface, bouncing across each inch of rigid bark. Ryv grinned and took hold of a gnarled knot in the bark, using it to propel himself up the vertical surface. His free hand found another such handhold, while his foot pushed off an arched root, setting the Jedi Knight to work. Hours passed as the Kiffar ascended to the clouds, his mind falling to a much quieter place than the journey across the verdant sea. Instinct guided his every motion, further protecting him from the threats his thoughts posed. Beads of sweat formed at his brow, slowly rolling down his sun-kissed skin as the strain of his labors set in. Rather than push himself beyond any reasonable limits, Ryv opted to instead pause his climb at the first low hanging branch he encountered. Throwing a leg up and over the massive appendage, he rolled over onto his back. He was immediately met with the beautifully imposing sight of the distant canopy. Perhaps thousands of feet away, it hung over the innumerable branches jutting out from the central trunk, providing shade to the Jedi Knight.

"You'd of loved it here, pops," Ryv muttered to himself, his eyes slowly shutting. "Growing up, I couldn't understand the appeal of trees, grass, or clear skies. Just didn't make sense," he continued to muse aloud, his thoughts drifting from his peaceful surroundings, soon settling on the packed city streets of Coruscant. Even lightyears away from the city-planet, he could still feel the city's beating heart. Speeders raced along with the smog, shooting towards the clouds at all hours of the day. Voices dominated the many layers the magnificent civilization had to offer, each one denoting someone special, someone that belonged. Thracior was a welcome juxtaposition to Coruscant, one Ryv desperately needed. So much so, the customarily guarded Jedi Knight allowed himself to drift off to sleep, the distant sounds of nature dancing about him.

Ryv awoke some hours later, the sky a warm orange as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. He got to his feet, arms stretching skyward to alleviate the tension in his body. Drifting off to sleep proved far more comfortable than the waking up part, especially on his sore back and muscles. He couldn't be bothered to care for long. The sight of the planet's setting sun greeted him. From his perch atop the branch, Ryv watched the shadows of night sweep across the sea of grass, all light slowly fading away, replaced by the twinkling infinity of the cosmos.

"Well, pops, I hope you see this too, wherever you are," Ryv turned towards the towering trunk, took hold, and continued his ascent. Aided by hanging vegetation, the Jedi found the second leg of his journey far more relaxed than the first. Instead of struggling for precarious handholds, he twirled thick vines around his hands and wrists and used them as makeshift ropes. He pulled up on the cord-like vines while seemingly walking along the vertical surface. More branches made themselves known, alongside hundreds of small creatures all hiding within the foliage. "You know," he began, grunting softly as he continued to press upward. "If any of you wanted to pop out and help the boy out, I'd appreciate it," he scanned the leaves for a moment, only stopping as a sharp and sudden thud shook a broad branch above him. Ryv craned his neck, working to peer past the rounded edges as he scaled up. He poked his head past the side, his amber gaze meeting an almost iridescent yellow of some large, feline predator.

"Oh f-" Ryv ducked beneath a sweeping paw, its claws digging into the bark past him, immediately after shearing through the Jedi's makeshift climbing gear. Instinct alone saved the now falling Jedi, his hand shooting out to the branch, narrowly catching hold of hanging moss and lichen. He swung beneath the creature, his other hand guiding him to the other side of the wooden appendage. Ryv shot up the other side, landing firmly beside the massive beast. Not slowing, the Jedi called out to the Force and leaped up to a nearby branch, shakily landing. "Haha!" his gaze snapped back to the animal in time to see it clawing its way up the trunk, racing towards the Jedi Knight. "That's not even- what? No, c'mon, man," Ryv repeated his earlier maneuver, launching himself higher in the tree, only for the feline hunter to continue its dogged pursuit. "This is nightmare fuel is what it is."

Summoning the Force to his aid once again, Ryv jumped, dashed, and climbed at a rapid pace, slowly but surely leaving the thoroughly acclimated beast far behind. Now more exhausted than ever, the Jedi Knight hadn't even realized where he stood as he dropped to his knees, sweat falling like raindrops to the plateau-like surface at the zenith of the ancient tree. He pulled the jacket from his form and tied it into place at his waist, a slick forearm moving to wipe the sweat from his brow. He finally took his opportunity to study the vast network of branches making up the bumpy surface, awe surfacing within his mind. Never before had the Jedi Knight seen anything like this aged beauty.

"Whoa," Ryv felt so small in the face of something so prolific. He walked along the rolling surface, taking in the sights, smells, and feelings provided to him through both his senses and the Force. He could feel the importance of this moment, just as quickly as he could feel the flow of the great cosmic power as it seemed to converge on the sentient stage. "Well, here I am," Ryv said aloud, his eyes sweeping over the area. "I don't know who's out there, but I need help, real bad," he paused at the peak's center, eyes slowly closing. "I'm not ready for what the Force has in store for me. It seems so dumb to say out loud, admitting I'm not capable of being the leader others think I can be, but its the truth. I can't help it, but I keep thinking about Wyatt or Cedric. Why couldn't they have been chosen for all this? They're both better Jedi than I am, with storied lives and many successes. Surely the Jedi need folks like them to take the lead, not a screw up like me."

"So many have stood where you have, young Jedi," a soft voice cut through the silence. Each word carried with it the weight of wisdom unparalleled, built through years of experience and growth. "What makes you think any of your predecessors were ready?"

Ryv opened his eyes, head slowly turning towards the sound of the voice. Almost expecting his father to once more stand before him, Ryv couldn't help but feel surprised at the sight of an unassuming man, not too different from the Kiffar. The apparition stood before him, showcasing a human male, likely somewhere in his thirties. A thick head of hair decorated his head, falling ear level. A piercing gaze met Ryv's visibly inspired person.

"I-I don't know- I mean, uh," Ryv cleared his throat, struggling to find his words in the face of a legend. "It's hard to believe the people who've left their mark on history could be anything like me. I mean, I'm years behind other Jedi. My masters left me behind. If I couldn't be of use to them, how can I be a help to the rest of the galaxy, master?"

"You mustn't compare yourself to those who've come before you, or those who once stood beside you. The Force works in mysterious ways, Ryv. Much like yourself, I began my training much later than most Jedi. I'd spent decades working as a moisture farmer beside my family, building droids, and shooting womprats to pass the time with other boys my age. I lived my life thinking I wasn't going anywhere, up until everything came crashing down around me and I was forced to make a choice," the force ghost moved towards the ledge, followed closely by Ryv. "If your masters were meant for this, your friends wouldn't have followed you. Whether you believe it or not, Ryv, the Force has chosen you as it has many others. While no one can be sure what it has in store for you, you can only push forward and strive to bring about the change you believe in."

"Where do I begin?" Ryv asked, his gaze locked on the pitch black of night. "The Sith seem unbeatable, the Bryn'adul haven't slowed in their galactic conquest, and I'm just one guy, master."

"Unfortunately, I don't have all the answers for you. If I did, I would share them without hesitation. I remember what it's like to be where you are, Ryv," the apparition turned, his spectral hand falling atop Ryv's shoulder. "You must trust your instincts. The Force has seen countless eras come and go, yet it has persevered. With the Force as your guide, you are bound to succeed; you need only believe in yourself. You need only do," the force ghost paused, offering Ryv a kind smile, one tempered by age. "And you are not alone. In the direst of moments, it may seem that way, but you are never alone. This weight you have taken on needn't sit squarely on your shoulders. Your friends are ready to stand beside you, you need only let them in," the specter stepped back, inching closer to the center of the plateau.

"How can I be sure I won't let everyone down, master?" Ryv moved after the fallen Jedi Master.

"You cannot, Ryv," the apparition began to dissipate into the force once more, his kindly smile still decorating his features. "Just remember, the Force calls each of us differently. For you, it was to change what it means to be a Jedi. You are a Paragon to our Order, one meant to inspire hope beyond just those closest to you, but the galaxy at large."

Ryv reached out, almost as if taking hold of the fading Jedi Master would return him to the material world.

"May the Force be with you, Ryv. Always."

 

[Barr Vexos]

Objective BYOO- Guard The Transport Ships

Allies: Galactic Alliance

“Well damn” Were the first words to come out of Barr's mouth. Sighing at the current position he was in “You wanted this Barr…. You really wanted this.” He whispered, repeating the words a few more times in a pitiful attempt to vent out the frustration that was deep inside him. Checking one of the transports ships of the ambassadors and senators, making sure that no bombs or anything that could cause harm to the ambassadors. Barr and a group of GA soldiers were given orders to watch and protect he ambassadors’ and senators’ transport ships while they were at as peacekeepers. Barr was not too excited being a bodyguard to these ships but did not say anything about it to his higher-ups. Not because he felt that having troops stationed here would not be necessary. History has shown that the one of best times to take out a group of senators would be when they were inside doing their jobs and when they least expected it. Planting a bomb into a transport ship would be an effective way of getting rid of someone important

He shakes his head in annoyance. While he was “taught” to be patient by his father he didn’t like the idea of being outside in an open area where anything could happen. Still he wanted to make sure that the orders were followed.

 

[Gala Geert]

Objective 1 // Thracior // Cresh
Din Marren // Maynard Treicolt // Bernard
Cover Fire: Republic Engineering
​

The Commander called their birdwatching team to support, and Gala helicoptered in place, if not dropping a little bit in height closer to the team below. She hovered a bit to make sure nobody was unable to continue. From her vantage point, it looked as though –––––! A loud, unexpected sound cut though the air. In an instance, the space between Lieutenant in the skies and Witch was mitigated to the nth degree.

The confirmation of the kill came through the frequency, and she cracked a smirk.

Now, back to the troops. One of them, the Jedi, had lacerations stretching around their face. Revealing parts that were not flesh. It motivated her to interrogate his well being: <Cresh-5, are you in stable condition?> Was his face about to explode?

Her dark eyes darted from him, expecting an audio confirmation or negatory, and beyond. Her vantage point higher than the other's.

<The witch saved us a few minutes, we paid for them with bruises. But look. Target's distanced reduced.> She gestured the nose of her weapon toward a shadowy outline, it looked to be a hole. To guide the way, she angled and glided through the air to the hole. Her jetpack disengaged, and she dropped to the edge of it, bracing her knees on the landing.

​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

BYOO // Thracior // Gladiator Arena
Kestrel Dray​

The idea of adding insult to injury had been hers. After hearing the familiarity the Zeltron had with the planet, it would only make sense to have someone close to, or exposed to, the expectations of the sport. The Padawan made a suggestion to volunteer the Jedi Knight to the task.

Loske, who had no real history herself, or culture to appreciate, hoped they'd make short work of this and back to business elsewhere. Her placement to this particular objective only serving to show the lack of diversity, and requirement to grow, with the New Jedi Order. There were many spots to fill. Like, diplomacy for example! The more Loske was exposed to, the more she realized she could not do. Undercover Jedi Shadow? Nope, terrible liar. People-person politician Jedi? Nope, no patience.

"Balwaer, we appreciate your time." She managed with a polite head nod. Manners that were lost on someone who had no time for anyone that wasn't suggesting how to turn war to a profit. Introductions were wiped off the agenda. He already knew everything he needed to. This was not a surprise visit.

Though it did contain some rose-coloured surprises.

They cut straight to the chase. Honour. Tradition. Less bloodshed than more bloodshed. One life for maybe tens, hundreds. The pair of Jedi in the man's office had already discussed this on the way in. There was an alternative –– they, as Jedi, would know that better than (maybe) anyone. Death was a last resort for them, but that didn't mean there weren't other stages between total clarity and consciousness and entering the final void.

"This is certainly the day to talk about Traditions, I agree." The blonde started, surprised words were coming so readily to her. Usually her stream-of-thought conversational tone wasn't so formal.

"When this Champion was presumed dead, notably unconscious and the match concluded," she shoulder gestured in Kestrel's direction adjacent to her, "Were there repercussions to you or the observers? Were the tribes able to reach a conclusion with each of their champions otherwise?"

Was that her voice? Her vocabulary? She was so uncomfortable she was starting to don a new persona. Yuck!

Spoiler

Art from here // Arekk

 

[Bernard]

\\ Objective 1, ELECTRICITY ESCAPES
\\ Thracior, rendezvous with the Witches
\\ Thematic ~ Nonagon Infinity ~ Track 05 ~ Mr.Beat
\\ Team Cresh Maynard Treicolt , Gala Geert , Din Marren , Republic Engineering , @Others

​

The ache only grew in sharp intensity. Bernard squeezed his eyes shut as the waves of pain bounced from bone to bone. He felt worse than a womp rat after it had crossed the path of a rampaging bantha herd. Every fibre that comprised his being slowly began to scream its objections to any further movements as all nerves were roused from fleeting slumber. A grunt escaped him as he pushed against the rocky ground, hoping to come to his feet again. He twitched inward and stopped himself. Red droplets quietly prattled onto the ground below him in a brief burst as he tensed his muscles to prevent more movements, locked in place on his hands and knees.

He condemned himself to ride out all damage his body had suffered, the feeling flaring up again with increased intensity. The ache wasn't beholden to his contemporary wounds alone, either; the impact had torn asunder dressings that kept much older injuries restrained. He felt the venom of old wounds fester without the presence of synthflesh to soothe them. As part of the underlying melodies within the symphony of discomfort he found playing out across his body, the malignant traces of the dark side still snaked their way throughout hushed wounds, almost drowned out by blunt trauma, but distinctly perceptible, even from behind the veil of heaviness that hung over his senses.

The wounds burned more intensely than they should have, inflamed and excruciatingly raw. He barely registered the loud crack and the voice that followed after, calling out to him. He was lost in his own mind, dedicating whatever conscious thoughts he could spare to labour in analysis of the discrepancy, even as the venom's intensity began to wane unexpectedly.

"I'm fine! ... I'm ok," he managed through wheezing coughs. He wasn't.

Even as the pain began to fade and practised habits began to soothe his wounds with the Force, he felt resentment towards himself. His mind had been clouded with too many thoughts and ideas, too many worries about the past and the future that he'd forsaken the present almost entirely. It was a mistake not befitting a Jedi. Far worse, he'd failed not just himself but all those around him. He tensed up again, as thoughts of how his lapse in focus could have accosted them began to cloud his mind again. If it truly was his dream to become a Knight of the Jedi Order, he couldn't allow trivial matters to distract him. Duty was paramount, the present was what mattered most, there was nothing to be gained from moments spent trapped in contemplation.

In a moment where frustration finally spilled over, he struck the ground, feebly groaning as regret made itself apparent immediately.

 

[Auteme]

P E A C E K E E P E R S
Adhira Chandra | Astraea Tagge Aston Jacobs Zahara Myneto ​

How... unique. Auteme, of course, is entranced by the most marvelous of dances performed by the Wahlord Yug'dab. It was an interesting display of culture to be sure. Not the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen but without a doubt a window into the lives of the Tantt people. Did they do this dance often? What was its significance? Perhaps 'wah' was a god of theirs. She studied the odd movement for the several minutes until it stopped abruptly.

Auteme clapped after the display was finished, likely more genuinely than everyone else in the entourage. Senator Chandra was quick to move to why they were really there. They walked to the clearing where the Hnsi envoy waited. The senator was obviously much more adept in these situations, so the padawan stayed silent until they were inside the hut.

It was relatively small compared to most meeting places. She was reminded of the Grand Dukha in New Nystao when she'd visited with Loske -- it'd been much larger than this, and its inhabitants had been much scarier than these chieftains and wahlords. This felt much more manageable. After all, if she'd faced something larger than this, she could handle this easily.

The only thing she was mildly worried about were the two witches who entered with Yug'Dab. Their presences were surrounded by darkness and their intentions were of a similar vein. Still, they could achieve peace between these two tribes, and with the precedent set they could achieve planetwide peace. At Adhira's behest, Auteme handed out copies of the peace agreement...

Only to have them blankly stare at her. They were illiterate. Right.

"Senator Chandra, would you like to present the terms?" She asked, moving to the Senator's side.

 

[Astraea Tagge]

Location: Thracior
Objective: Peacekeepers - Protect the GA Diplomats
Focus: Adhira Chandra ll Auteme ll Aston Jacobs ll Zahara Myneto

Astraea shouted a command as the Senator and the natives began to walk forward. In unison, about 10 soldiers turned, the two at the front hoisting the Alliance banners. The natives looked a little alarmed which made the harsh lieutenant smirk. They were right to be afraid. "Forward, MARCH!" her command was less sonorous but nevertheless the detachment obeyed and moved forward in step with the diplomats, forming a perfect square around them.

She marched alongside, a few paces behind the Senator and unfortunately within earshot of Aston. When the warlord stopped to perform a bizarre display, her steely expression carefully hid her bemusement, but when she overheard a comment from the ranks of soldiers she shot a warning glare in the direction of the noise. Astraea did not recognize Aston Jacobs now that she got a better look at him. Perhaps the Jedi sent him.

When the Senator proceeded inside the hut, Astraea stepped forward to the left of the door where she and another marine would stand guard. She was not comfortable with the cloaked pair joining her ward, but as the Senator and her entourage did not object she raised no concerns. If there was trouble, Astraea would ensure it came to a swift end.

As she found herself strategizing ways to deter disturbances to the meeting, however, Aston again approached her. The marine standing guard with her gave an uncertain look at his commanding officer, but she just glared ahead. The comment he made clearly caught her off guard, but after a moment she looked no less angry at having received it. "Do you think yourself funny, soldier?" In a heartbeat, Astraea had pushed off from the stone hut wall and was staring Aston down from inches away. He wasn't much taller than her, though she did incline her head slightly to meet his gaze.

"Because I'm not laughing. Find something useful to do." Her stern gaze faltered briefly after staring into his eyes and the feeling made her want to break his jaw. As swift as she'd advanced, she fell back to the hut door and crossed her arms menacingly.

 

[Zahara Myneto]

Location - Thracior
Objective - Peacekeepers
Tags - Astraea Tagge Adhira Chandra Auteme Aston Jacobs

The Admiral nodded to young commander before going her side. "As you should be, Lieutenant. You should be proud, accompanying our nations leading members is a great honor." He then silently watched as an exchange of words seemed to happen between the diplomats and the Senators. The Warlord unnerved him. The man just seemed...unordinary and thus Zahara deduced to keep an eye on him.

As he marched alongside the rest of the troopers, adjoined with the units commander he couldn't help but notice her by the books command style. Effective, was one of the words that came to mind. But as the Senators entered the building he no longer found purpose. It wasn't his place to enter, because he might be noted as part of the negotiations but it wasn't his place to leave either.

"Nice to meet you" he said to the man who seemed to also be joining the military officers on thier objective. He did not know that man but he seemed friendly enough.

OOC Note: My posts may be a bit off a regular posting schedule but for the next few days I'll most likely be offline per Tropical Storm Cristobal currently heading onto land. Just nudge a little if I'm online.

 

[Aston Jacobs]

Objective: Peacekeeping
Adhira Chandra Astraea Tagge Zahara Myneto Auteme

Perhaps he may have come off a little to strong and perhaps disrespectful? That's what one side thought, while the other was still trying to register that he was drafted soldier and the fact that she felt that she had any authority over him. While his stubborn side was being shown more than anything. Aston in the long run knew better, perhaps in this day and age his attitudes had adjusted slightly.

She was near his face and he couldn't help but narrow his eyes at her but then show a small smile. "Forgive me Lieutenant." He said sincerely as she backed off and resumed her normal position and she looked quite well flustered or more angry. Like a Wookiee about to lose a game of Dejarik. It had been too long since he had played a game of that. Since back in his days with the Old Galactic Republic. So, he parted on the good thing to do.

Aston stepped out of line as since he wasn't really part of the company, more freelance than anything. He wasn't even getting paid for this now that he thought about it. "Good to meet you too." Aston said as he extended his hand towards the Admiral. "Aston Jacobs, a pleasure."

Aston then turned his sights to the Lieutenant. As he moved and stood beside her with his arms behind his back. "Your right. That was unworthy, I know how to behave when doing one's duty. My name is Aston. It's nice to meet you Lieutenant." He said as he extended his hand towards her, to show some proper respect. If she took it or not was unsure, but if she didn't it wouldn't hurt his feelings any.

"But I think that uniform does compliment you very well, I'm just saying. It needs to be said, and I think you know it too." Aston said with a small smile as he crossed his arms and listened attentively to the dealings going on about the Senator. Because all joking aside, her protection was their number one priority.

 

[Din Marren]

Objective: 1 - Infiltrate & Dismantle
Callsign(s): Cresh-1, Dare
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Enemies: Witch Coven, TBD
Equipment: See bio. (Assets)
Complement: Maynard Treicolt | Gala Geert | Bernard | Republic Engineering | Open

Falling again? Feth.

Din attempts to step back when the ground begins to break apart, but isn't fast enough to escape the landslide. Reacting fast enough to magnetically lock his weapon to his back, the commando holds his arms out to his sides in an attempt to balance himself as he rides the falling rocks to the bottom of the ravine, sinking into the violet mist that seemed to be pouring from the cavern entrance.

Somehow managing to avoid serious harm, Din stumbles forward and trips, falling to his hands and knees with a grunt when the rubble crashes into the ground and launches him forward.

<"Damnit,"> his groans again, pulling himself back to his feet. His visor automatically toggles through several optics before settling on infrared to pierce the strange mist. From the corner of the T, he catches the ragdolled form of Bernard laying among the rocks.

Cautiously approaching, the commando kneels down to examine the Jedi, <"You still with us, Knight?">

His HUD begins to scan the body for his vitals, but the sudden gasp for breath and return to consciousness answers the question first. Dare holds out a hand to try and keep Bernard from making any sudden movements immediately.

<"You took a tumble, but you're alright. I'm gonna hit you with a cocktail of stim and bacta, okay?"> apparently the question was rhetorical, as Dare immediately presents an autoinjector without waiting for a response, and quickly sticks it into the Jedi's thigh, <"This'll keep you focused and movin', chief.">

Din looks over his shoulder to follow the sound of Gala's jetpack, watching the heat pattern move through the mist toward the ominous entryway.

<<I think he's good,>> he answers in his place over their team comms. He looks back to Bernard and gives him a pat on the shoulder, <"You are, yeah? I'll help you up.">

The Caridan pulls his rifle from his back after offering a hand to the Knight, glancing across the landscape to make sure everyone was accounted for after the incident.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Nar Shaddaa
Isaiah’s Dwelling
BYOO​

“Goodbye, my old friend.”

Hands clutching either side of his skull, Isaiah wept openly. The clear crystalline drops of water retreated down the exile’s cheeks as the final log played. Hours had passed since Isaiah had dwelled up the strength to open the package and review its contents. Now the man sit at his table unable to process the reality of the situation. It wasn’t just a dream he’d had, it wasn’t an omen of what was to come, it was a vision of what had already happened. Lanik Dawnstar was dead.

Fighting to recompose himself, Isaiah found that he was on the losing side of the battle. His body shook, despite trying to force the misery down it remained ever-present at the back of his mind. It hung over him like a cloud, tormenting the mercenary. Isaiah tried to slow his breathing yet continued to hyperventilate.

He had known Lanik long ago when they both served as apart of the Jedi, before they’d both left the order. The only difference was Lanik had gone back, he’d sought to be a hero, to bring change to the galaxy. Isaiah knew that the other would eventually find his way back to the Jedi, it was in Lanik’s nature. He cherished the galaxy so much, cherished the lives of its inhabitants, he was always meant to be a great Jedi. A tenure cut short.

The Mandalorian’s hands moved from his head to his face rubbing at it, before leaning back in the chair. Within both his heart and his mind, Isaiah felt as though his world had been torn apart. From within a fury bubbled forth, righteous fury. Despite attempting to do what was right, despite striving for a better tomorrow, Lanik had been slaughtered. Betrayed by that which he fought for.

A shiver started at the base of Isaiah’s spine as he felt an odd sensation. As though someone was watching him. Then came the sensations, the awareness, everything he was running from. Stumbling over to the nightstand, Isaiah felt a new pressure on his head, as though a box was being overfilled and to the point of bursting. Slowly flooding his senses, he began to feel the planet of Nar Shadda for what it really was. The true sensations of every living being on the planet seeking to overwhelm the one-time Jedi.

Falling down Isaiah caught himself on the side of the nightstand, yet his massive frame and weight caused it to collapse over with him. There was a reverberating thud as the behemoth of a man slammed into the ground, before he reached out to seize the nightstand and pulled it open.

Within the drawer was a stash of credit chips of different denominations, yet amidst them was shattered glass, an emerald liquid coating the currency. Peridot eyes scanned the drawer, Isaiah’s hand digging into its contents despite the glass that bit into his flesh. The vials he’d been hoarding having shattered. All except for one, a single vial that remained out of the collection.

Without hesitation, the mercenary seized the vial, bringing it up to his lips. Every movement was a struggle, a pain, as another streak of agony shot through Isaiah’s mind. Yanking the cork out with his teeth, he spat it uncaringly to the floor before downing the illicit liquid.

Rolling over onto his back, Isaiah’s eyes squeezed shut trying to close everything out, to silence Nar Shaddaa and The Force. After mere moments there was silence, nothing but the faint dripping of water. A mixture of sweat and tears now coated the exile’s face as he simply lay there, looking up to the ceiling. They say the force worked in mysterious ways, but why him? Why now?

 

[Theo Vereen]

Objective 3 - BYOO

Thracior he did not know much about it it didn't often come up on a list of well known core planets. Opportunity came up that provided an avenue for him to visit and seek out trades for Alderaan goods.

The Clans were fierce in their separation but he couldn't find much on their origins and their history. So he was going to learn that and their customs all while trying to find out what they had for trade if anything. Surely the one thing he could offer them was supplies of some type if for no other reason than humanitarian.

But first he had to work his way to the planet and be sure not to insult or commit another diplomatic error.

Tribal Warlords ruled their sectors with total authority how he was going to negotiate across borders without insulting another leader was one twist that he had not thought quite thought through. He just hoped he did not end up on the business end of a spear or knife while sputtering to save his life.

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

BYOO - Botor Aftermath.

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It was clear that her First Officer wasn’t pleased with her comments. His brow furrowed, and there was a subtle hint of a snarl building at the corner of his twitching lips. If she didn’t know better, the man looked like he was on the verge of doing something he’d regret for the rest of his career. However, much of her youth was spent under the tutelage of her father - who wasn’t in the picture anymore - but saw fit to impart his mastery of the Thyrsian Martial Arts unto her. Aside from the varied methods of self-control and breathing techniques that encompassed the combat discipline, there was also the refinement and enhancement of one’s power of observation. Although the First Officer was swiftly becoming furious, the man’s muscles didn’t contract nor did his stance shift - which were often telegraphs that indicated a person’s physical intent.

He knew better than to strike at a superior Officer, especially with so many witnesses mulling about in the peripheries. So, as the silence between them began to thicken, Jianna smiled and took another sip of her ReCaf. “We can do this all day, Commander.” Her words were rife with confidence, hanging on the verge of sublime arrogance. “Until those Pirates show their faces, I’ve got nothing but time.” He scoffed and turned away from Jianna - knowing that it was utterly pointless trying to pursue the matter further. Not only would he get nowhere, but the man would be enraged over something that ultimately amounted to nothing. As the First Officer marched towards another portion of the Command Deck, Jianna watched him leave and took another sip of her beverage.

“Well, that was a nice bit of excitement.” She commented, as her eyes drifted back towards the tactical table. When her slow pivot brought her about, a holographic figure materialized before her - utilizing the projectors built into the table to manifest so vividly.

“Was that entirely necessary, Captain?” Virgil - the Ship’s AI said with notes of synthetic curiosity framing his question. Jianna smiled again before placing her ReCaf down on the table’s mechanically textured edge. “It was Virgil. Sadly, Organics like myself relish a bit of confrontation here and there. Not only does it get the blood pumping, but look at him? Spite had sharpened his edge. While he’s a cantankerous arse that needs to check himself every now and then, the Commander’s got a good head on his shoulders.” The Construct tilted their head and cocked a quizzical brow, trying to understand the point Jianna was trying to make. “I’m afraid that your preference for confrontational tendencies, unorthodox command style, and conversation point alludes me, Captain.”

“Of course it does,” Jianna replied, as a heavy sigh crested past her lips. “Virgil - as you no doubt know - I was brought up in a culture that many would consider to be barbaric by modern standards. The Hapan believe that all men are evil and should never be found in positions of Command. There was a time that Thyrsian Culture was the same way but from an opposite perspective. With all that aside - it’s my belief - which was flavoured by my blended upbringing - that only through confrontation can someone grow beyond their present selves and meet their true potential. So that’s partially why I’ve been ribbing the man, as I know his weakness and I’ve exploited it. Will he hate me for the rest of his life? Who knows. But, I can assure you - One day,” She said, pointing a finger at Virgil’s holographic form. “One day, that man will thank me for pushing his buttons.”

“If he doesn’t? Well, then it’s safe to say that he hasn’t heeded my lesson, or that he’s too blasted stubborn to admit it.”

“You…” Virgil began. “You Organics are quite puzzling sometimes.”​

 

[Elias Vati]

Objective 1: Infiltrate and Dismantle
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Equipment: Sector Ranger Tactical Armor - A280 Blaster Rifle
Tags: Din Marren | Maynard Treicolt | Gala Geert | Bernard | Republic Engineering | Others

The Judicial contingent was late to the party. The Jedi and Military had beat them to the punch so they had to make up for lost time. Elias was leading Sector Ranger Squad Saber for this op. He lead them during the Raid on Hosnian Prime and they were now going to perform and infiltration op. The HAAT designated to the ranger squad was going the fastest it could go to Saber's drop zone. "ETA 2 minutes." The pilot announced and Elias started a briefing to his team before insertion. "Alright people listen up. We're way behind schedule and we need to catch up with the Alliance Taskforce. We'll patch into their comms as soon as we touch down. You all have intel on the mission and the coordinates on the target. Check your corners, watch each others backs and we'll get out of this just fine."

"We're above the LZ now lieutenant." The pilot announced as the doors of the gunship slid open. The rangers rappelled from the gunship and got into formation. They started pacing, walking towards the coordinates of the base hopefully they would walk into the rest of the taskforce on the way. But to be sure he sent a transmission to confirm their arrival. "Alliance assault team this is Lieutenant Elias Vati of Sector Ranger Squad Saber. We've just reached our LZ and beginning to approach the designated coordinates. With luck we'll run into you, Lt. Vati out."

Elias ended the transmission and started making his way through the landscape.
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