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The Galactic Alliance fleet is in full retreat. The attempt to capture the Sluis Van shipyards, the primary objective of the Alliance assault, has ended in disaster. Hulls cracked, shields flickered, and engines sputtered as the battered ships limped away from Sith-controlled space. Behind them, Sluis Van burned — a grim reminder of the battle lost. Despite their efforts, the shipyards remained firmly in Sith hands, damaged, but not disabled, and the Alliance had paid a heavy price for it.
Aboard the fleeing ships, the atmosphere is tense. Soldiers and Jedi who had fought on Sluis Van, Echnos City, and Dorvalla are nursing their wounds, physically and emotionally, as they prepare for the long, perilous journey home. The fleet is now stuck deep behind enemy lines, vulnerable and isolated from the rest of the Alliance sector fleets. Communication was spotty, supply lines cut, and the enemy close behind, ready to strike again at any moment. Every hyperjump could be their last if the enemy were to intercept.
But not everyone had made it aboard.
On the ground, trapped on the ravaged worlds of Echnos and Dorvalla, survivors cling to hope. Isolated pockets of resistance, stranded soldiers, and Jedi linger behind enemy lines, scrambling to find a way off-planet. The Sith's grip tightened around them with each passing hour. For those left behind, survival is about more than just hiding — it means finding a way to evade patrols, navigate treacherous terrain, and figure out a way to get off-world.
The mission is no longer about victory. It's about survival. With the enemy closing in from all sides, the Alliance forces have to regroup, escape, and live to fight another day.
Objective I - Escape
Heavily damaged from the failed assault on Sluis Van, the ships are barely holding together, with critical systems failing and enemy forces in pursuit. The Sith fleet is closing in fast, threatening to intercept, board, or destroy the retreating vessels. Alliance forces must work together to make emergency repairs, plot escape routes, and defend against attacks. Every hyperjump is a gamble, with each passing moment increasing the risk of being trapped behind enemy lines. Time is running out, and survival is far from guaranteed.
Work together and make it back to Alliance territory, where reinforcements are waiting for your arrival.
Objective II - No Way Out
Stranded behind enemy lines, Alliance forces on Echnos City and Dorvalla must find a way to escape or face capture by the Sith. In Echnos City, survivors navigate the ruined, domed capital, evading Sith patrols and trying to reach extraction points. On Dorvalla, scattered soldiers and Jedi are trapped in the planet's treacherous mines, with the enemy closing in. Supplies are running low, and communication is cut off. Their only hope is to regroup, avoid detection, and find a way off-planet before the Sith tighten their grip and seal off any chance of escape. Time is their greatest enemy.
Objective III - Licking Wounds
The soldiers and Jedi who did manage to escape the battles of Sluis Van, Echnos City, and Dorvalla now face a new challenge — recovering from the trauma and losses they endured. Aboard supporting fleets and medical stations, they gather in medical bays where experienced personnel and droids tend to their wounds, giving them a moment to share their stories and find strength in each other. For some, it's about healing physically; for others, it's about processing the grief and guilt of those left behind.
Stand together and support each other — the war is far from over.
BYOO
Do you have a different aftermath story to tell? Bring your own objective!
For anyone that wants to read it, The Angellus family history to this point Is here. Angellus Ewan Isaacs - CAG/SCAR Teams CO LCaptain Halpern "Celestial City CO" Captain Zev Tantor "Silver City" CO Captain Rojuh Pouil "Valhalla" CO Captain Scott Pouil - Flight Director 5th Fleet Chief Gribbs - NCOIC 5th Fleet. S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M. - 5th Fleet A.I.
[ANY COMMUNICATIONS INSIDE THESE BRACKETS ARE THE RESULT OF COMMS COMMUNICATION]
Code:
SECTOR: Hyperspace
ORDERS: Taking a headcount (Obj 1, Maybe 3)
WINGMATES: Open
ENGAGING:
(OOC Note- Anyone on Obj 3 is more than welcome to be on Angellus’ “Celestial City” Supercarrier.)
This was unacceptable…
The loss…
Not the “loss” in battle, but the loss of life. There was nothing that could be done about the call for a retreat, it was prudent with whatever he had just witnessed. That was the problem with dealing with Sith, and frankly anyone who uses the “all powerful” “all encompassing” “all kinds of ridiculous” Force. Yes, Liram was aware of the irony given his situation, but it was how he felt sometimes.
He was angry.
Not used to losing…
… but they did… that was the case of what happened. He could not fathom what happened as he was still trying to wrap his brain around what he saw. They were not dealing with “technology” with “tech” you can figure a “go around” this was “magic” and “undead” and all that crap. It was insane and he needed to deal with this. However first he needed to collect the names of the fallen. Each of them had been laid with dignity along one of the launch bays. He collected the “dog tags”, the “name tag” and the “wings”(in the cases of pilots) of each and moved to the next, personally. Normally this was not something a flag officer would do, but he would put this on no one else. It was also why he was doing this alone, he had to keep emotion out of it and while he was furious looking all of these fallen, he knew that there were relationships on board. No, the Admiral had gotten them into this, he was going to be the one who accepted the receipt for the actions.
After their brief clash with Taeli, Valery had hoped to capture the capital ship docks and leave them intact for Alliance use. However, with Alliance fleets unable to secure the shipyards as a whole, the enemy was able to maintain its grip over the vital docks, and reinforcements began to quickly flood in. Sluis Van, located deeper into enemy territory, was slowly being cut off from the rest of the Alliance assault.
If they didn't get out now, they'd be stuck and likely get captured.
"We need to find a way out." She assumed the Alliance shuttles were compromised, so they had to find alternatives. Escape pods were too risky — they'd either be caught in the planet's gravitational field, or they'd end up sitting ducks in space. No, they either needed to get extracted or they'd have to steal a Sith vessel.
Vera was running as fast as she could, following their clash with Firerreo. The battle had left her wounded and shaken, both physically and mentally, but none of that seemed to trouble the young Noble. Her focus was entirely on survival — on not only getting herself out but also bringing Mahsa to safety. It had been her idea to go into this abandoned mineshaft. Her vision had shown them the way to get there.
She would never forgive herself if that got her friend hurt or killed.
"We're losing," Vera told Mahsa in honesty, "The Alliance is preparing to retreat, and if we don't make it back, we're going to be left behind." She swallowed at the thought and picked up the pace. They had to not only make it out of the mines but also find someone to help them get off-world.
Michael, Gabriel,Azrael,Sariel, Raphael,Barachiel,Uriel,Jegudiel, Jeremiel,Salathiel,Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
Code:
Location - “Celestial City” Sickbay
Objective - 3
Tag - @Tuli | @Ran Serys | Open
“Military Intelligence”...
… what an oxymoron…
They were played, like an instrument
Despite numerous attempts to ensure that its processes are rational, the military produces unanticipated and irrational decisions and outcomes, even though it is filled with highly intelligent people, and all related to gathered information, or “intelligence”. It’s funny how those who collect intelligence never pay for their mistakes in the way that those who act out on it have to.
This was supposed to be easy. They were supposed to get in, quietly shut down sensors, and get out. The sensors were not there so they had to pivot. The AA tech that the sensors should have provided targets for had integrated tech, so taking them out was the secondary, but there was no power for them so the tertiary role was to take down the power grid. Then everything went FUBAR.
The Sith was right. “They” caused it all. “They” were responsible. That made this their fight. “Their” being he and “Raphael” who floated in the Bacta tank next to him. The entire team otherwise had been wiped out, like bugs to a boot. He knew he had to step up and take responsibility. He was the only one left. He had to be the one to fix this. He took a deep breath and vowed to make things right. He was ready to do what had to be done. He was the only one who could.
He was the only one who could get more killed…
All of those deaths were on his shoulders. He set the charges, he made the calls, they were following his orders. So you know what. Alazar would make it right. He was determined to make a difference. He fixed his gaze on the Bacta tank and nodded to himself. It was time to act. What could he do though? He was stuck in a sickbay, and probably about to be brought up on charges. He deserved them if he was…
Tuli had been on one of a dozen relief vessels that linked up with the 5th Fleet prior to its entrance into hyperspace, the excitement of finally being allowed to assist in a field mission vanishing quickly when she passed the bodies that had been laid to rest in the launch bays, her ears drooped the medkit in her hand forgotten as she simply stood among the dead and took a moment to absorb the magnitude of it.
She knew in her head that the dead should not be mourned, they should rejoice because they had rejoined with the force, but these men and women had families, people back home waiting for them, people that would miss them. knowing they were part of something greater wouldn't bring them much comfort.
She spotted an officer moving between them, collecting names from the looks of it, she hesitated for a moment, not wanting to disturb him, but she was in need of directions. Taking a deep breath Tuli's little legs carried her across the launch pad towards him.
"Umm…excuse me." she said quietly. "I'm padawan Tuli, I'm supposed to help with injured or casualties or…" she trailed off, ears drooping a little further. "Well, with whatever you need." she concluded with a small nod.
For anyone that wants to read it, The Angellus family history to this point Is here. Angellus Ewan Isaacs - CAG/SCAR Teams CO LCaptain Halpern "Celestial City CO" Captain Zev Tantor "Silver City" CO Captain Rojuh Pouil "Valhalla" CO Captain Scott Pouil - Flight Director 5th Fleet Chief Gribbs - NCOIC 5th Fleet. S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M. - 5th Fleet A.I.
[ANY COMMUNICATIONS INSIDE THESE BRACKETS ARE THE RESULT OF COMMS COMMUNICATION]
Code:
SECTOR: Hyperspace
ORDERS: Taking a headcount (Obj 1, Maybe 3)
WINGMATES: Open
ENGAGING:
(OOC Note- Anyone on Obj 3 is more than welcome to be on Angellus’ “Celestial City” Supercarrier.)
He wanted to yell at the Padawan who was bothering him, only when he turned around, he did see one.
Then Liram looked down.
It’s weird, but at that point, all of his anger seemed to subside. It’s not as though this young one was “adorable” or anything… I mean, she was... just look at how tiny she is… but there was something else. It just seemed like being so angry about all of this was not worth it.
Thank you… No childish, condescending, or cute tone, but appreciative. Normally, I would not accept help doing something like this, but if you wish to, you are welcome to accompany me. All of these individuals were under my overall command. The shame on his face could not be hidden, no matter how good he was.
Forgive me, I have your name, but you do not have mine. Rear Admiral Liram Angellus.
Everything had gone wrong. All of it. Their plan. The attack. The Sith had used trickery to win this day. Costed the lives of an unknown number of Alliance military personnel. Avery didn't know what happened within that domed city once the lights went dark. Only that shortly after, Alliance forces began to pull out of the city however they can. That Sith reinforcements were coming in full force. Avery and her Co-pilot, Ori, had spent the next several hours fighting. Constantly dodging reactivated anti-air defenses, enemy fighters all while providing any sort of CAS for the survivors on the ground. It was a well fought fight, but the Sith had superior numbers. One by one, her squadron were shot down. Avery was the only one left. Her Y-Wing has already sustained some damage, especially from enemy fighters before Ori could take them out with the turret. Avery fired off the last of her munitions at a Sith armored column to pave the way for more soldiers to escape. She gripped the controls of her craft as she scrolled through a screen on her controls.
"That was it. All of our munitions have been expended..." Avery said in a shaky voice. "All we got left is our main blasters. We could still provide CAS for the..."Avery's voice stopped as then her co-pilot turned to her. "Avery, what is it?"
"Fuel reserves. They are nearly empty. One of those blasted fighters must have damaged our fuel tank when it attacked us. We can't remain flying..."
"So what we will have to land?" Ori asked in a concerned tone. "Avery.."
"We have no choice. I just hope the Alliance sends helps quickly. " Avery replied "Brace yourself for a hard landing."
Avery dodged a few more turbolaser from an anti-air defense as she tried to make a landing outside of the city. The thrusters and engines slowly died out as the fuel reserves went dry. The Y-Wing crash landed on the outskirts of the domed city, Avery and Ori being thrown forward due to the violent impact. The rookie pilot shook her head, pressing the button to pop open the canopy so her and Ori and climb out. Their astromech droid also popped itself out of its spot, and rolled over to the two.
"So what now?" Ori asked as she planned a hand on R5-1G
Avery pulled out two AT-NB5 Blaster Pistols and handed one to Ori. "We try to escape. Sith will probably torture us...if they caught us."
Ori's face darkened but she nodded as she took the blaster pistol. "Avery..the others..."
Avery looked at the crashed Y-Wing and she did her best to not break down into tears. If she broke down, Ori would as well. It wasn't the time for this. but Avery couldn't help but let tear down her cheek. "..First ever mission. All of our squadron is dead or..worse. What kind of a cruel fate is this? Why were we spared?"
Ori placed a hand on Avery's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "I wish I knew...I do."
Then a blaster bolt whizzes by them both. Sith troopers are closing in. Avery and Ori ducked behind their down bomber, using it as cover as they returned fire on the few troopers before them.
Amelia had told herself this upon hearing of those individuals still trapped in Sith Space. She told herself not to do anything rash when she heard that among them was the Jedi Grandmaster, an individual that she respected greatly, an individual who had recently become a close friend of Amelia's. However, despite the need to ensure that cooler heads prevailed and that a measured, calculated response was thought out, she had thrown those thoughts to the wayside. Over the countless years of existence, she had amassed an eclectic collection of odds and ends, from simple technological items to larger vessels, many of which were hidden away to be forgotten.
"Don't do anything stupid..."
She had repeated the matra even as she was boarding the old Kesh II Transport, pulled from its slumber in a forgotten hangar halfway across the Galaxy in what had previously been territory claimed by the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Despite the attempt at keeping herself from doing anything stupid, she was still sitting in the pilot's seat of the Transport that had been modified to act as a makeshift medical transport. She wasn't about to leave anyone behind, least of all was she willing to leave the Jedi Grandmaster lost somewhere in Sith Space.
"Seventy-Seven, how are we looking?"
"All systems showing nominal. Hyperspace window holding, despite the ship not having flown in nearly thirty or so years..."
Amelia couldn't argue with her old friend, it had been some time since the vessel had any recorded flights. However, Amelia was hoping that it would work to their advantage, or at the very least cause some confusion when an old CIS Transponder code showed up on the screen. Nodding quietly, she allowed her attention to focus on the viewscreen, watching as the shimmering blue of hyperspace began to fade away into the inky darkness of space dotted with pinpoints of light.
//Extraction Underway//
//Key Personnel and Information: Under Threat//
//Situation: Severe//
//Deploying Local SIA Team To Assist//
//Echnos City Dome: Breached//
//SIA Team Status: Compromised//
Wreckage was a gift when hiding from the exhausted and battle hardened soldiers lurking in the city.
Destroyed vehicles, dead decorating battlefields, the darkened unlit interiors of buildings or emptied out transports. Things that burned produced a choking smoke, being walked through as the filters of masks and armor went to work. Stepping past abandoned scenes of a war that raged recently, the fallen still left to be retrieved. This all had been a test in awareness, keeping sight in all directions was a difficult task when understrength, undermanned and below combat effectiveness. By military doctrine she should evacuate, but officially, she wasn't here right now. And so no one was going to come for some SIA agent that was both too deep behind enemy lines, and by all accounts, not here on paper.
The same went for the team she deployed with. They weren't here anymore either, both on paper, and in reality. All that remained was their dog tags now, carried around her belt.
A squad of twelve who were to be split into three fireteams; Four operatives per team that'll skulk through the city and recover- or destroy -key Alliance information and equipment, confirm status on and retrieve any personnel who could still move. Planted explosives would destroy still functioning vehicles that couldn't move, preventing retrieval or use from the enemy. Slicers would eradicate information from Alliance datapads and vehicles or crashed starfighters. Medical personnel would do their best to assess who was capable of being moved and bring back command staff of various units part of the invasion.
None of planning, coordination and training mattered upon breaking through the airlocks.
A cacophony of blaster fire and explosives from well trained Sith military personnel had torn apart one team completely, the second hadn't reported in at all, and the three personnel who were with Zalia had been picked off one by one as they were moving through the city. Under cover fire she'd tear off pieces of equipment from the corpses of her comrades, explosives, bacta, slicer's tools and their dog tags. Except until she was the last, then it was just dog tags and retreating into the smoke. More of an outright route, but, her brain couldn't tolerate the thought of the term route to describe her patriotic duty to the Alliance. What good operative would route in the face of the enemy?
Despite all the flaws, this was actually a fairly good operation by SIA standards, given how they couldn't even tell a ship was underneath Coruscant. At least right now there was some proactive attempt to prevent more information from falling into the wrong hands. And, coldly analyzing the situation, eleven dead well trained personnel was an acceptable trade-off for comprehending the flaws in Special Operations performance. Not many would dare say that openly, except Zalia, but she didn't have a brain or personality fit for empathy. Or socializing. Or people outside of work in general.
So, she'd skulk, carrying all that equipment with her through the burnt out structures, clambering over broken down ruins and hiding in the darkness of toppled rubble and destroyed wrecks, only seen in the lights of flickering wires or near the lights of flares from personnel long past. Hiding around corners, listening to the coordinated movement of Sith military personnel as they swept through the city in search of their own targets. The eloquent dance of searching, evading and destroying had begun for everyone, a dance that did not care for consent of involvement, but only for your ability to fight and the beating of your heart; And the ever important question is, when you do fight, when will it finally stop beating?
Ten Jedi left, and only five returned. Half of Ran's strike team was lost in a brief battle against the Dark God Darth Empyrean
. Once the outcome of the battle was clear, Ran gave the order to her team. Retreat, rendezvous, and await further orders. Further orders came and went with the five Jedi to a fleeing medical ship, where they each would undergo a psychiatric evaluation.
Ran passed the galactic alliance evaluation on the condition that she continued seeking guidance both professionally and from the force. She agreed that she would. They instructed the Jedi to wait to be dismissed, but Ran couldn't wait. She needed to move. She needed to be of service. She needed to make sure the deaths on her team meant the lives of others.
"This one thinks you should stay, Jedi Serys." Shiba Shutala, a barabel Jedi Knight and member of Ran's strike team, put herself in Ran's way. "They have yet to release us. Protocol would prohibit us from disobeying this order." Shiba explained with a slight hiss. Ran said nothing. She just looked at Shiba, with silent tears running down her cheeks. Ran could see the look in Shiba's eyes. The one that understood her pain but did not feel it in the moment. Regardless of feeling the barabel woman stepped aside, while Ran continued to one of the areas on the ship that held those suffering the effects of physical injury and harm.
When she made it to the door she paused outside of it. She listened to the sounds of pain. In different languages and tones a spectrum of pain was communicated, louder as the door whooshed open. Several others entered and exited while she paused. She extended her awareness into the room and she felt their lives. One being in particular. The sibling of one of the dead Jedi on her strike team. How could Ran walk in and look her in the eye, or even talk to her as if she hadn't watched her brother impaled by one of the leaders of the Sith not more than a few hours ago.
She braced herself against those moments internally and externally. She leaned against the wall with her head in her hands and breathed in deep to calm herself. It barely worked as another being approached her and the door.
Michael, Gabriel,Azrael,Sariel, Raphael,Barachiel,Uriel,Jegudiel, Jeremiel,Salathiel,Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
Code:
Location - “Celestial City” Sickbay
Objective - 3
Tag - @Tuli | @Ran Serys | Open
He should not be up and around…
… but he was…
… Alazar was walking around … wobbling… more appropriately. Bren was ignoring all of the nurses who were seriously perturbed. He needed to think fast. He took a deep breath and made a decision. He wasn't going to give up and simply go back to his bed like they wanted. What did they want? What did he want?
Dizzy…
He needed to make them dizzy.
Why was the room so dizzy?
Oh yeah.
There was a problem with the intel they had. The Admiral, he had to know about this…
… where was the Admiral?
Where was he?
Why is it Dizzy again?
Who were these nurses and why were they following him?
Oh yeah… Echnos…
That was such a cluster(censored) and there needed to be some kind of accountability. He would own his, but those who provided it… they sent him into a mess. They sent them all into a mess.
Admiral!
“Lieutenant! You need to go back to your bed!”
“Lieutenant, please come this way!”
Admiral!!
“Lieutenant!”
Get away from me! I need to talk to the Admiral!
“He’ll come see you!”
Stop lying to me! S.I.A. lied to me! Lied to all of us! STOP LYING!
One of the Nurse’s assistants put a hand on him to try and get his attention. That was a big mistake as, blood loss or not, woozy or not, Alazar began throwing everyone in reach around. He was not playing around and was dangerous, but he was also hurting and they all had taken oaths. He was clearly not in a good frame of mind.
Tuli's ears flattened completely as the Admiral turned as she braced herself for the prickle of anger she had felt rising within him. She knew that the emotion he felt was not necessarily directed at her, but simply a byproduct of grief. She braced herself for it, but was surprised when it simply...dissipated.
She didn’t question it, not now anyway, maybe she’d ask the opinion of someone older and wiser than her at a later date. Her ears lifted at his acceptance of her offer to help and she rolled onto the balls of her feet with excitement, before remembering they were surrounded by the dead and she settled back upon her heels.
Tuli dipped her head in greeting. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance Admiral. I am sorry that it should be under such solemn circumstances.” Her eyes surveyed the dead once more. “That must be a heavy burden to bear.”
The chadra-fan’s ears twitched as she looked back at the Rear Admiral. “There are many who have survived today though Admiral, there must be some solace in that, no?”
Roman moved through the narrow corridors of the medical shuttle, his heart racing with a mixture of determination and dread. He had only heard fragments of the battles, tales spun from the weary soldiers and traumatized Jedi who drifted in and out of consciousness. Their whispers painted a vivid picture of chaos and loss, and each of those images unfurled in Roman's mind like a bad dream replaying without end.
Cloaked in the scent of medication and desperation, he carried a stack of medical supplies, his hands shaking slightly as he navigated the cumbersome load. He wanted to help, to ease the suffering around him, but every creak of the ship felt like an echo of what had transpired, a reminder of the lives that had been shattered along with the hulls of the ships they had fought in.
As he moved through the medical bay, he assisted where he could -- fetching water, repositioning limbs, and collecting discarded bandages. Each face he encountered told its own story of pain, and he couldn't help but feel guilt for every Jedi and soldier whose sacrifice weighed on him. The depth of grief hung thick in the air, making his heart feel heavier with every passing moment.
Then, through the fog of medics and healing droids, he spotted her -- Knight Serys. Leaning against the wall with her head cradled in her hands, she looked more like a ghost than a warrior. Roman's heart ached at the sight, recognizing the weariness that loomed over her like a dark cloud. Gathering his courage, he approached her slowly, mindful of the silent turmoil that enveloped her.
"Knight Serys." he said softly, glancing down at the floor before meeting her gaze. "I... I can help. What do you need?" His voice trembled slightly, but he forced it to carry a steadiness he didn't quite feel.
He felt the weight of his own uncertainty, but he pressed on. "I can get more supplies. Or, maybe we can talk? I know it's been hard, and... I'm here." The words spilled out, an earnest offering. Despite being a Padawan, Roman instinctively wanted to shoulder her pain, to lighten her burden, to remind her that she was not alone.
Minerva took cover behind a tree yards away from the mine shaft. Unlike most operations with the Alliance she had come alone as part of uncover work. Yet she hadn't been able to reach her allies in time when the battle commenced. The Mandalorian closed her eyes, ashamed at the failure. Shaking it off she centered her focus on the tunnel.
Somewhere in there were comrades lost in the darkness with the Sith and their followers. She had been the last hour or so trying to raise a coded signal but to no avail and kept watch for Sith patrols through her helmet's sensors. Fortunately the latter weren't present yet. While some local bird up in the trees squawked in a mating call Minerva closed her eyes for a few seconds before arming herself with the particle rifle. It was time to go in and search for survivors.
Coming out of the foliage calmly she suddenly ran toward the mine shaft. Within two and half minutes the warrior entered into its shadowed path before stopping. Turning on night vision she now advanced cautiously. There was some scurrying to the left side before she identified it as a womp rat which screeched at her before fleeing into a hole. Minerva paid it no further mind resuming the advance.
Hold on, I'm coming. Thought Minerva, not knowing who will be needing that help.
Her younger and more mercenary self never would've done a search for lost aruetii soldiers unless paid for a lot of credits for the effort. Such a mindset had died out a lifetime ago. Gripping the rifle by shoulder level Minerva pressed on further into the darkness.
For anyone that wants to read it, The Angellus family history to this point Is here. Angellus Ewan Isaacs - CAG/SCAR Teams CO LCaptain Halpern "Celestial City CO" Captain Zev Tantor "Silver City" CO Captain Rojuh Pouil "Valhalla" CO Captain Scott Pouil - Flight Director 5th Fleet Chief Gribbs - NCOIC 5th Fleet. S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M. - 5th Fleet A.I.
[ANY COMMUNICATIONS INSIDE THESE BRACKETS ARE THE RESULT OF COMMS COMMUNICATION]
Code:
SECTOR: Hyperspace
ORDERS: Taking a headcount (Obj 1, Maybe 3)
WINGMATES: Open
ENGAGING:
(OOC Note- Anyone on Obj 3 is more than welcome to be on Angellus’ “Celestial City” Supercarrier.)
That last thing she said. There was some weight to it. Some that he could definitely appreciate. It reminded him of why he enlisted, and went to the Academy in the first place.
Are you sure you’re not a “Master” yet? No snarky smirk, no quick witted quip, but an appreciative observation. Sometimes it takes a simple few words from an outside voice to remind you of who you are. Thank you. “Master Jedi”. He didn't mention that his “Great Uncle” was Master Vanagor, it was “self serving” and frankly inappropriate here.
I would be honored if you would continue to help me with completion of this. There is an old Mandalorian saying “Return with your shield, or on it.” It was believed back in the days of swords and shields that warriors would fight to the last man. Cowards would drop their things and run. Those who would not survive would be carried back on their shield. These… heroes… He gestured out to those who had fallen, their remains covered in Galactic Alliance flags.
Iris spoke firmly, even as she kept her focus on those around them. Her presence in the Force could only do so much, but she spent it guiding them all, soldier and civilian alike, to the safety they needed to get to. It was time to retreat, she knew it deep in her heart, but she wasn't going to leave anyone she could help. Right now, that meant having Zaiya helping her directly.
"Focus on the colors. Loose yourself in them if it helps, but keep them bright."
There wasn't time for negative thoughts. For the greying colors Zaiya was feeling. As stern as Iris was though, as she pulled Zaiya into her world of colors to get her help, there was comfort there offered. Warmth and understanding. Iris knew better than most just how much the words and actions of the Sith could stick with them. When they escaped, only when they escaped, would Iris talk to her about it.
Tuli smiled at him, shaking her head, her large ears flapping as she did. "Oh no, sir. This is my first time outside the Academy." she could not help the swell of pride in her chest at being called "Master Jedi", she clasped her hands behind her back, with the medkit and gave another little bow of her head.
"The honour is mine Admiral."
She looked around, finding a crate to set her med kit on before returning to his side, contemplating his words about mandalorians and shields. "I hope that if I find myself in battle, that I can show as much courage as these men and women did. Would you like me to record their names as you collect their tags?"
For anyone that wants to read it, The Angellus family history to this point Is here. Angellus Ewan Isaacs - CAG/SCAR Teams CO LCaptain Halpern "Celestial City CO" Captain Zev Tantor "Silver City" CO Captain Rojuh Pouil "Valhalla" CO Captain Scott Pouil - Flight Director 5th Fleet Chief Gribbs - NCOIC 5th Fleet. S.E.R.A.P.H.I.M. - 5th Fleet A.I.
[ANY COMMUNICATIONS INSIDE THESE BRACKETS ARE THE RESULT OF COMMS COMMUNICATION]
(OOC Note- Anyone on Obj 3 is more than welcome to be on Angellus’ “Celestial City” Supercarrier.)
Nodding back to her assertion that she wanted to be there, he felt his own warmth. It wasn’t pride as he felt like a fool in the battle, but that was the past.
As do I. Again, no snarky smirk, or wit. Just as it is with you Jedi, it is a mischaracterization that all of us look for and live by “the fight”. It isn;t true. Putting her medkit in a more secure lockbox, just in case someone mistook it for being left out, Angelus nodded to her offer.
That would be wonderful. As long as you are willing to. I will gladly accept your help in this. Again, he looked out upon those who had fallen sadly.
Back to the mischaracterization. Many of us only serve to protect those who cannot. We serve and do what we must so that those we protect do not have to, so that they can live their lives without strife, hopefully. There is a simplicity in that.
This wasn't their ship, ultimately, and if they needed to fight their way out it'd be better to just, punch through walls. The best place to get to would be the hangar, probably to steal a Sith ship if he had to guess. So, he turned to slam his fist into the wall. Metal splintered under the impact, shattering and caving in as he pushed it open wide enough for them both to slip through. Their foes would likely try to cut off their paths.
