Respite | Confederate Defense Force

[Malok]

[ Confederate Space | 0200 Local Time ]​

The Life of a Soldier is that of a Blade.

In the beginning, they were as bars of steel. Each was strong in their own way. Resilient. Reliable. Born to withstand the intensities that life had to throw their way. Yet, they had not yet grown into their final shape. Through Fire were their impurities melted away. Through intensity were they molded to perfection. Thus, those who contradicted the durasteel legions of droids by existing organically lived as Blades of the Southern Systems. Yet, like any edge, blades require upkeep to maintain their effectiveness. Life any skill, disuse would wane its capacities over time. Therefore, a mighty contingent of the Confederate Defense Force had been dispatched to the heart of Confederate space.

For several weeks, training scenarios and sorties were launched between the Defense Force's divisions. The mighty Dauntless Commandos practiced their boarding and breaching tactics. The numerous Marshals engaged their fleets in dizzying waltzes. And, at the very end, there was an opportunity to breathe before the warriors made their way back to their regular stations. The battles of the modern Galaxy were indeed calling, but for a few precious days, the Blades would be permitted to rest.

In preparation for the journey home, the CDF's forces began refueling at a local depot. This particular spot in Confederate space was not exactly known for its amenities - and as a result, most of the warriors found themselves taking shuttles to the Dread Queen. Today, the mammoth Super Star Destroyer had become less of an iconic warmachine, but rather a beacon of respite for the weary. Aboard, the off duty warriors flocked to the onboard mess hall and cantina - finally removing their helms and sharing a toast before the wars to come.

It was never long that a Blade rested within its scabbard. Therefore, each second had to count.

Spoiler: Points of Interest

M E S S​

After weeks of blood, sweat, and blasters, there is nothing more refreshing than a cool drink and a tray full of grub. And the Dread Queen's Mess Hall is rumored to have it all. From a menu that far beats anything found at the typical base, to a selection of strong drink on demand. Here is the ideal place to finally kick back, relax, and enjoy a taste of home. Or Ryloth if you're into that sort of thing.​

O B S E R V A T I O N​

Sometimes, the noise of battle - or the chaos of the Mess Hall - isn't one's idea of unwinding. Fortunately, the Dread Queen features a gorgeous observation deck with a full view of the gas giant below. Here, there is at least a chance for some genuine peace and quiet.​

Spoiler: Tag

[member="Luna Terrik"]
[member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]
[member="Damsy Callat"]
@Pei Van
[member="Lirka Ka"]
[member="Lucius Crane"]
[member="Zavek Ambrose"]
[member="Ethan Winters"]
[member="Lis'Ra Fennick"]
[member="Lin Pal'Ud"]
[member="DV8-420"]
[member="Thedra'Vazuum"]
[member="Rato Hus"]
[member="Kelsie Sylvan"]
[member="Maeve Archeron"]
[member="Valery"]
[member="Kiff Brayde"]
[member="Alden Akaran"]
[member="Amelia von Sorenn"]
[member="General Kalypso"]
[member="Orion Trex"]
[member="Shadar-Pox"]
[member="VildarnTentoria"]
[member="Caranekka Sigmaeus"]
[member="Zoe Rosella"]
[member="Kritz Vanderheim"]
[member="Havoc (CT-375)"]
[member="Keva"]
[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
[member="Samantha Jade"]
[member="BX-72967"]
[member="BX-25233"]
[member="UBD-028"]
[member="BX-32900"]
[member="Merg"]
[member="WD-334"]
[member="Rog-r"]
[member="Osintrium"]
[member="B1-667 Aquilus"]
[member="Destroyer 2873"]

 

[Joannis Campbell]

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Location: Observation Deck, aboard the Dread Queen
Time: 0237 Local Time


Joannis had just awoken in his bed within the barracks and washed up, the first time he had a luxurious bath in a very, very long time. After doing so, he had gotten dressed and enjoyed the liberty of being able to walk wherever he wanted on the ship within reason. His lifelong dream had come true. The days of sitting in a cell exhausted, broken, and in shackles were over. He would never be in that state again. He wouldn't let it happen and he'd rather die than be captured. After preparing a cup of coffee within the lounge area, he walked through the ship's corridors to the observation deck. There he stood, gazing at the large gas giant below. And just like that, he was at peace with himself. His mother would want him to do this. To serve and be apart of something bigger than himself. It was the right thing to do considering that the CIS had freed him and multiple others, giving him the liberties of a free man. Sipping from his coffee, he entered some sort of a trance, remembering the days he was on Kessel. The hot mines, the production lines, the maintenance he was forced to do, the beatings he was forced to endure. Nothing would ever cleanse him of these memories. He would never mentally be free of that pain, no matter how physically free he was.

Gazing out of the window he observed the stars, the planets, the numerous ships on their way to the Dread Queen. He'd love to meet the Dauntless Commandos more, considering they were the chief reason he was saved. Though, he had caught word that the CIS was preparing for an invasion. Preparing to help those that needed their assistance, and he would likely be in the middle of it all. This thought reassured him. He now had a purpose. Something that he chose to do rather than he was forced to do. There weren't many people to talk to in the observation area, so he simply took a few steps back and took a seat behind him, crossing his legs and enjoying the new view.

 

[Luna Terrik]

Location: Mess Hall
Time: 0200 Hours
Tags: [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Joannis Campbell "][member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Valery"] [member="Maeve Archeron"]
Wearing: Dauntless Downtime/training gear
Post: #1

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Luna was absolutely, positively, exhausted. There was no other way to cut it. Weeks of unending drills, both the planning behind the scenes work that was required of her and the actual running of the drills with her squad. And, in hindsight, they actually went very well. Everyone was becoming much more prepared for the upcoming conflict that the Dauntless would be moved into, and the new shinies were getting integrated into their new squads very well. She had had her worries, like she always did, but in the end everything had worked out more or less.

That wasn’t to say everything had gone perfectly, mind you. The drills had had their fair share of injuries, and even a few that had Luna wondering if they might ever put on a suit of Dauntless armor again. Yet, these were necessary losses, as the drills, being boarding ships, space walks, and zero g combat were going to essential skills very soon in the groups future. But the planning, as well as having to coordinate with the CDF marshals had left the Dauntless commander sleep deprived and with a headache that hadn’t quit in days.

Because of that, Luna had quite wanted to go back to the Rebellious Hawk, crash in her own bunk undisturbed for a day as soon as the drills had concluded. However, the ship needed to be refueled, much like the other Hellspears, and that meant that the Dauntless’ wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. This left Luna with the prospect of having to take a shuttle to the massive star destroyer, the Dread Queen, to grab a bite to eat. She had encouraged other commandos to be there as well. All squad comradery and that.

By the time the commander had made it the mess hall, it was already beginning to fill up with commandos and Confederacy Marshalls alike, all dining on the delicacies that the mess had offered. The redhead’s first task was to quickly grab herself some food, which included a swiftly made sandwich, a few assorted fruits, and a glass of water. Perfect for a quick meal so she could go crash as soon as the frigates were ready to leave.

Turning away from the end of the line, tray of food in hand, the commander began to scan the room for any of her personal squad, the Omegas, or the Alphas. It would probably serve her to learn more about kelsie’s squadmates, so she could help in a pinch. But for the life of her, she couldn’t see any of them just yet..

 

[Ayda Elisantra]

Location: Open Space, approaching the Dread Queen
Interacting: Open
Posts:1


They had been low on fuel for two weeks now. Low enough not to be able to afford a jump, not even a micro jump. As thus they were running on sub-lights through the great vastness of open space.

Ayda was part of a crew of 5, which included a pilot, an orderly and two registered nurses. They operated under 'Doctors Without Borders', registering themselves among many factions, but serving under none. They were humanitarians, often plunging into the very heart of wars, battle torn systems and those of natural disasters.
But being registered with a given faction often didn't give them any immunity to treat that faction's enemy wounded. And that was where the red thin line existed with them.

Often tolerated, as 'Doctors Without Borders' were not biased to any one faction, they nevertheless did catch much heat and often became incarcerated themselves with the enemy wounded they were treating at any given battlefront or another.

"Scanners picking up a station...I think..." Her helmsman reported, drawing Ayda and others up to the cockpit area of the ambulatory craft.
The faint signal had been detected a few minutes prior and took some time to confirm it was an artificial object of sizable mass. Of course their vessel being low on fuel was running on eco-mode, much like that of an emergency escape pod. It did the distance, but at an extremely slow speed compared to light and hyperdrive.

"Are we within hailing range?" She asked, switching on the comm.

"Not for another 4-5 hours. I mean we can try, but our transmission may be too weak or garbled for them to understand." Her pilot informed her.

"4 or 5 hours, whatever it is, could jump out of this sector." She replied, intuition telling her that the probability of a station out here in the open was unlikely. It had to be some sort of ship.
"Send the hail. Garbled or not, at least it's an announcement of our heading. I'm sure they'll have long range scanners to pick our position up." She put her hand on the pilot's shoulder to ease his concern.
"It's not like we have any other options out here. We're already out of rations.... send out the hail."

The transmission from the craft was indeed weak and broken up by the time it reached the large distant mass they were picking up on their own scanners. Scanners that were not at all military grade, just adequate enough for basic communications.
The transmission would at least be picked up by the large object or vessel and certainly not come off as anything threatening, at least not by it's size and speed.
Hopefully their med cross would be recognized. They were in desperate need of fuel and supplies...and some good hot showers, as the craft only had accommodations for scrub and basics.

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Valery
Post 1
Location: The Dread Queen - Mess Hall
Wearing: White Top, Black Skirt, Wedge Sandals
[member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Maeve Archeron"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]

Valery had decided to quietly follow a small group of Dauntless Commandos on their way to the mess hall, in the hopes that she would be able to integrate herself into the group through the passivity of her presence. Over the last few days, the countless drills, space walks, and training sessions had left her battered and bruised. Fortunately, the diminutive commando had managed to go through them without experiencing anything beyond a surface level ache. Many others had been left with torn ligaments, concussions, and stress fractures. She was very fortunate to have not suffered any of those ailments, but that meant that she would be activated for the imminent offensive campaigns which would very quickly test the limits of her endurance.

However, after all of the hard physical training, Valery wanted nothing more than to eat a very large meal and then take a long nap after she was finished. When she got to the front of the line for the food synthesizer stations, she ordered a large plate of chocolate chip pancakes with a side dish of porg eggs and roba sausage. After a few moments, the her meal emerged from the synthesizer on a pair of plates and she picked them up before turning to join the rest of the commandos.

After taking a brief glance around the mess hall, Valery spotted her ginger-haired commanding officer and she locked eyes with the towering woman before setting her plates down at a nearby table in the middle of the room and waiting for everyone else to arrive...

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

"Someone's looking tired." Kelsie lightly tapped Luna on the head as she slid into the seat beside the Dauntless Commander. She had a bad habit of sneaking up on her allies sometimes -- she was trained to keep her footsteps silent, so they were. Maybe people would stop being so surprised whenever she popped up someplace on the Rebellious Hawk. She was always wearing relatively stealthy clothes; the armorweave body glove she wore was night black and made no sound when she moved, and the odd amulet that hung around her neck made no real noise at all. A stealth suit for the Dauntless might be nice, considering she wasn't allowed to use any of the gear she had been given as part of her work with the Ministry of Secrets.

The rest of her squad was scattered about, mostly getting food at the moment, all still groaning from their aching muscles after the training exercises. Everything hurt more in zero G. But Kelsie appeared to be fine -- she was probably the most experienced Dauntless Commando in void combat. It had been a long few training sessions, dragging along the newbies in her squad as they'd done their walks on the hull of their frigate, but it reminded her of her own training. She sat in silence beside her commander for a bit before she began to crunch down on an exotic-looking piece of fruit.

"You're the commander, y'know. You don't have to attend every training session," she finally piped up. She rather wanted to learn more about Luna and why she'd chosen to train with them all -- she didn't quite strike Kelsie as the 'leading by example' type, but she could always be wrong. "Take a break every once in a while, let your sergeants handle it. That's what they're for."

[member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Valery"]

 

[Keva]

​

At the end of the day Keva's patience for people wasn't quite as long as it let out. The seemingly sole representative of the wider army had left the Chiss, truthfully, rather bored. Swirling within her own mind, for the most part, had seem more interesting than having to deal with the Commando sort. The rambunctious types that made things take far longer than they ever needed to, or attempt to stab her repeatedly when she actually did try to finish things efficiently.

So instead, she had decided to look out towards the void and remain in her little bubble. In that ever standard position with her hands clasped behind her back, posture far too straight to ever seem legitimately comfortable, and red fiery eyes that stared out into the void. Always thinking, this one was. It seemed to be all but entirely in her nature to have a mind that wanders, considers, and plans for greater things.

 

[Joannis Campbell]

​

​

Location: Mess Hall
Time: 0255
Wearing: Downtime Attire
Tags: [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Valery"] [member="Luna Terrik"]
Post: 2

​

​

After a bit of thinking in the observation deck, Joannis had come to realize that he hadn't introduced himself or met any of the "Dauntless Commandos" that had liberated him from the Kessel operation. He did display his utmost gratitude, however. That wasn't enough to him. He had seen a group of a few more Commandos heading towards the mess hall, so after walking around the Dread Queen for a while, he headed in their direction. A large automatic door revealed the mess hall and its large group of people. After about 2 minutes of looking around he found the red-haired woman that was on the operation and took note of where she and a few others were seated.

He headed over to the synthesizer and stared at its large selection of food. He had never been able to choose any food at Kessel. In fact, he didn't remember being able to choose much food at all, coming from a poor family. After a while of staring up and down the synthesizer's large screen, a few behind him started to grow impatient. Due to this, he sloppily chose a very small serving of half a sandwich, scrambled eggs, and some random juice he couldn't recall the name of. The synthesizer slowly spun the food up and slid it out on a tray in front of him, the juice almost spilling before it got to him.

Turning around, he walked towards the central area of the mess hall and looked again for the fiery-haired woman and her group of other commandos. Subordinates, he assumed. All equally skilled, however. Definitely all more skilled than him considering his only skill was somewhat medical knowledge and street hand-to-hand combat. From afar, he could tell that the commandos were tired from what he assumed to be the results of numerous trainings, operations, and a strict schedule enforced by their high command, the Confederate Defense Force.

Joannis hesitantly walked over to the short table where a few other commandos were seated, all of them were women was what he assumed, because that's all he saw. The closest seat was next to a magenta-haired woman, very small in figure. There wasn't much he could say because he was heavily malnourished and no where near his actual size at the moment. Setting his tray down next to her quietly, he pulled out a chair and took a seat, beginning to quickly eat his food in its small quantity. As much as he wanted to eat large amounts of food, he could not. After quickly finishing his tray, he sat quietly and listened to the conversation between the commanding officer and another about how tired she was and how she doesn't have to attend all trainings.

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[Luna Terrik]

Location: Mess Hall
Time: 0200 Hours
Tags: [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Joannis Campbell "][member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Valery"] [member="Maeve Archeron"]
Wearing: Dauntless Downtime/training gear
Post: #2

​

There were very few people who had the courage to go around tapping the commander on her shoulder in an annoying fashion. There were even fewer people who decided to do it regularly enough for Luna to know exactly who it was. She didn’t even have to see the Lieutenant walk past her and sit at an open table for her to know exactly where the annoying motion came from. Giving a small roll of her eyes, the woman followed her shorter friend to the table, sliding into a seat next to her, proceeding to elbow her lightly in the side. “You know that poking of yours is quite annoying.” She said, a slight smirk betraying her teasing nature.

Luna looked up to give the violet harried commando also sitting at their table a short, quick nod with a soft smile. All the commander knew of her to this moment was what was in her evaluation and the briefing she had been given on the woman, who was in fact, a clone only two-ish months old. This would actually be the first chance the commander had to interact with Valery, something of which she was quite interested to do. First, however, the woman to her left began to give her thoughts on Luna participating in the training that everyone else was required to be in. The statement prompted a moment of silence as the redhead sat with her own thoughts to gather them appropriately, and was about to answer when the tall human male, the one that the group had rescued and subsequently recruited from that rock sat at the table.

She gave him the same courtesy as Valery, giving a momentary thought to how the man did not seemingly fit in around here just yet. It was obvious he wasn’t a solider, yet his medical knowledge was sufficient enough to warrant him a spot on Kelsie’s blossoming squad, them having been in need of a medic to complete their team. Once his combat skills began catching up, and he integrated himself more into his squad, he’d be plenty good enough as a commando to match up with those he sat at the table with. Patience, however, was the key to his development. Luna knew Kelsie could handle it.

That final thought brought her back to what she was going to say to her Lieutenant, which was put off just a moment longer while Luna took a swift bite of her sandwich. She placed it down afterword, cleared her throat, and responded Kelsie’s direction. “You’re correct. There’s certainly no reason I have to be participating in all of this. I could be on an observation platform the whole time, or, kark, the Angelic Fury in space.” She paused, momentarily, to take another bite of her sandwich while beginning to make eye contact with the other two at the table. Quickly swallowing, she began again before the thought was lost. “But I have three reasons why I like to train with you all.”

Her eyes met Kelsie’s, holding up a singular finger in an upward motion, smirk fully peeking at her lips by this point. “One. I have my own squad. I feel the need to train with them so I know my men and woman as well as you’ve come to know them in the past few weeks. That connection is vital on the battlefield, and you know that.” Next, her eyes moved to Joannis, a subsequent finger being added before she started again. “Two. I want to be in the middle of training of a drill, exercise, or anything of the like needs to be adjusted for efficiency or for safety. I’m ok with you all getting a few bumps and bruises, but we don’t need anyone dying.” Finally, those emerald colored eyes met the violet haired woman’s, smirk now full and bright. “And three. I refuse to become one of those fat commanders that sits on their karking butts and eats while their men charge into battle.”

Her reasoning given, Luna leaned back, pulling her hand back and using it to lift a piece of fruit to her mouth, taking a large bite. The commander’s body and attention shifted back to Kelsie, it being her turn to ask a question of one of the newest commanding officers in the Dauntless. “I only got to see you squad a few times in the past few weeks. Where do you think they are in their growth after Givin?”

​

 

[Kiff Brayde]

​

Mess Hall​

​

​It seemed to Kiff like the events of the galaxy were a tide of an ever flowing ocean. After the crashing crest of battle thrust itself against the shore, the water slowly receded as soldiers licked their wounds to prepare for another fight. Sometimes he wondered if there would ever be time of peace, a respite from the ebb and flow of fighting. In time, he chided himself. Once the Confederacy ruled from the Deep Core to the Western Reaches would there finally be peace, just as there had been in times of old. Before the Dark Ages. Before the fracturing of the galaxy.

As rowdy as he was, Kiff quickly tired of constant war. He knew that the adrenaline of battle would never leave him, no, but the constant and tedious paperwork and administration that came with a position such as high as his pressed against his spiritous soul. He wanted to too feel the rush of excitement as he launched a ship into hyperspace, the giddy unknown of running a blockade, the raucous fun of a backwater tavern. After the conquest of the Confederacy was over, Kiff would finally relax and have some fun​. Of course, that didn't mean he'd have to refuse opportunities such as these to practice what that fun would be like.

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

Location: Mess Hall
Wearing: Armor (Recolor of this sub)
Weapons: Lightsaber, blasters
Theme
After her sixteenth birthday, Allya had been given some down time before returning to active duty. A lot had changed, and yet so much remained the same. Clad head to toe in her white Dauntless beskar'gam, and armed to the teeth, the girl never seemed to relax. And in reality this was very true. Her idea of enjoyment was tinkering, or creating something new. Much of the armor and weapons the Dauntless had used were of her designs. Ships, clones, biological tools, weapons. She always enjoyed such things. As such, she tended to keep herself rather busy. However, this ship, the Dread Queen, her father's ship, it always caused a sour taste in her mouth. Yet, here she was, boots clanging lightly against the metallic floor. As she marched, her emotions roiled, and the dark side clung to her like a comfortable blanket. As it surrounded her, she felt safe, secure....powerful. It helped to push many of her insecurities away....and fed so many others.

A hand pressed on the door controls, and the mess hall opened up before her. It was loud, rambunctious, and part of her wanted to flee back into the corners of the ship, to the hidden places only she and a few of the engineers knew about. It was always such a drag, but it was part of her duties. The Mandalorian warrior moved into the mess hall, hand rested close to her blaster, but not touching it. She didn't bother to get food or drink, and instead just moved over to where Luna was. Hidden by the black visor, her eyes looked at Luna with a sense of pride once again. The fact she was able to serve this woman gave Allya a purpose unlike any other. Luna had given her freedom, purpose, guidance, and even independence. There was no way for her to repay what the woman had done for her.

Wordlessly, the young Mandalorian slid up to Luna, just a bit to the right and behind the woman. She allowed Luna to continue speaking, as her eyes went over each person addressing the woman. While Allya was small herself, her armor, the confidence with which she moved, and the endless power that flowed through her always tended to make her seem larger than she was, until she was right next to you, at least.

Finally, Allya spoke, her voice filtered through her helmet, giving it the iconic sound. “I'm just trying to imagine you fat and lazy. And I have this feeling you would have killed yourself long before you reached that point in an attempt to stop it, Commander.” Dark lips formed a smirk under the helmet. As she attempted to now integrate into the festivities as best as an awkward teenager could, her mind reached out through the force. She was curious if her father was still onboard or not. He drove her insane, and yet his presence also comforted her in its own way. It was one of the few familiar things in the galaxy. Almost like an absolute. After she finished her attention fully went back to the group in front of her. “Greetings.”

[member="Joannis Campbell "]| [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] | [member="Valery"]​

 

[Mellifluous Magenta]

Valery
Post 2
Location: The Dread Queen - Mess Hall
Wearing: White Top, Black Skirt, Wedge Sandals
[member="Joannis Campbell "][member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Kelsie Sylvan"] [member="Maeve Archeron"]

The tiny commando cut into her stack of pancakes and began to take a few bites as the redheaded commander gave her lecture. Valery was somewhat hesitant to return her gaze as she spoke, but she was attentive nonetheless. Typically, if she was receiving an uncharacteristic amount of attention from a commanding officer, it was because she was doing something wrong or the officer thought that she had potential. In either case, Valery would have much preferred to be left to her own devices. She didn’t want to let down an officer if they thought that she had potential. Even so, Valery could already see that Luna would be different from her old training officers. However, she still hoped that the woman didn’t get too close. She was more used to officers who sought to maintain a professional distance from their subordinates. Her training officers had been careful to avoid forming attachments with their trainees because so many recruits cycled through the programs in such short periods of time.

After Luna finished, Valery took a deep breath and bit into her pancakes once again. She couldn’t help but feel a bit of second hand embarrassment when a seemingly young girl’s clad within full armor and a helmet approached the table. After all, it seemed that everyone else within the mess hall was dressed in casual attire. Nonetheless, Valery returned the girl’s address with a shy wave, but she couldn’t think of anything to say to her, aside from the obvious regarding her strange choice of attire.

Fortunately, she sensed potential for a good conversation with the light brown skinned man that had taken a seat next to her. From what she knew of him, the man had been rescued from slavery during her first sortie on Kessel. Valery quickly decided that she would start by introducing herself to him, then perhaps more would come from that as she spoke to him.

“Hi, I’m Valery.” The magenta-haired woman made eye contact with the amber-eyed ex-slave and extended a tiny hand out to offer a handshake. “I never got your name after the rescue.” Valery spoke in her soprano voice as a gentle smile came over her creamy-toned features. “How are you faring with us so far?”

 

[Ayda Elisantra]

Location: Open Space, approaching the Dread Queen
Interacting: Open to anyone looking out a port window of the Dread Queen!
Posts: 2


Hours later....

"Look at the size of that thing...Is it TSE or First Order?...Why aren't they responding?...it looks operational..." These were the questions Ayda's crew were asking each other as their craft limped the distance to the only vessel out here that could help them...if not rightly vaporize them in open space.

"It's CIS..." The pilot stated, with little relief in his voice.
As Ayda's crew rejoiced, while their pilot held his own. He had for the most part been quiet, keeping to himself as he piloted the craft toward the object and sending out a repeating hail to the SSD growing in size. The closer they got, the more their non-military sensors had been able to size up the vessel until it was close enough to visually see for themselves. And yes it was quite daunting. Too familiar for Ayda to be as excited as her crew. It was for the most part a war ship..even if it was CIS.
She weren't a fan of war, despite serving in as many campaigns as she physically could. Then again, she were created to serve man and his kind, for better or worse.

And not surprisingly, there was a legitimate reason as to why the pilot seemed a bit un-nerved. It weren't so to the fact that they had picked up a large artificial mass a few million kilometer's distant.
Now just a few hours later, and 20,000 kilometers distant from what had first appeared as a large unidentified mass, had grown to a superstar destroyer. Ayda understood once the ambulatory corvette's sub-lights suddenly powered down. Their fuel had been spent.

"We'll make it..." Ayda put her hand on his shoulder...she had known. Had known their lack of fuel and ration when they had been ordered to evacuate. There had been no fuel that could have been spared for them, even if they were medics. But she knew, as well as her pilot. Still, what choice did they have? Stay and face extermination, or evacuate and make a jump to safety like the rest. And since they had been manning the field hospital, they had been the last to leave, after all the wounded had been transferred to the main hospital ships.

Their jump had been adequate enough to put a few million light years distant from their aggressors, but short on making it to their destination before the hyper-drives quit on them. And for weeks, they continued on their quest to reach their destination on sub-light drives and what little fuel left in the cells.

They were now just drifting toward the vessel on momentum alone. The only power they had left were diverted to life support and basic essentials...whatever they had left.
"It's quite odd, yes..." Ayda agreed with her pilot.
They had been transmitting a hail to the vessel for hours, ever since they had picked up what had appeared to be a station at first. That was a few million light years distant and now less than 20,000 kilometers away and drifting toward the vessel (which at this distance was now not only visible, but recognized as a CIS flagship, the Dread Queen); still no response.

"Sigh....can't we slow it down any further?" She asked her pilot who at that very moment gritted his teeth cussing to his self.
No.... no they couldn't, as their maneuvering thrusters which could slow it down had just gone out too...out of fuel, period. The pilot had been able to decelerate enough with what little vapor remained of their fuel, but they were still coming in too hot for comfort.
At 10 kilometers distant now from the goliath, they had slowed down just enough to possibly...POSSIBLY survive a head on collision with the Dread Queen's durasteel hull.

Everyone, including Ayda started to strap into their seats and watched as the massive wall of what was the hull of the star-destroyer came closer and closer...

 

[Dondagora]

Location: Open Space, Ayda's Vessel (ish), Approaching Dread Queen
Interacting: [member="Ayda Elisantra"]

[SIZE=11pt]It had been some time since Clanker was aware of his surroundings, possibly years. After the crash on Endor, and his subsequent time spent with the ewok inhabitants, he had gone native on that forest moon. But his purpose, the greater cause that called to him, had always drawn his heart toward the skies, and his hosts had recognized that. They had shoddily repaired the crashed ship and surprised him with it one day. Clanker, of course, realized that the functionality of such a vessel put together by the primitive people left him with a 0.02% chance of surviving the journey, even if it didn’t burn up upon exiting the atmosphere, which it probably would. Weighing that against the 97% chance that he would eventually break down on this moon and his ewok brethren would scrap him to make sharp metal spears, he decided to leave this second home and take his chances with the ship.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Bringing Clanker to his current predicament. The ship hadn’t burnt up entirely upon exit, but after a few hours in hyperspace it had just fallen apart… literally. Since then, Clanker had put himself in energy-preservation mode, spinning endlessly in the vacuum of space with no indication of where the partial warp had left him. During this period, while it isn’t exactly like the phenomena of dreaming, Clanker recalled the events leading up to his crash on Endor. His was a shipment of droids meant for some warlord, but they had been intercepted. He was activated with his platoon and they swarmed the raider in robes and watched as tens of his mechanical comrades were cleaved in half by the stranger’s plasma blade, ripped to innumerable scraps by some nightmarish invisible assault. ‘Jedi’ he heard them called by his organic masters. Then the plasma blade came flying at him, spinning in the air and tearing a path through a crowd of droids, slicing through his arm and torso. The next thing Clanker knew, he was on Endor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was in this unfortunate situation that Clanker found himself in the proximity of a certain destroyer, the Dread Queen. If luck were on his side, they would notice him on their scanners as he passed by and pick him up as a curious object. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side, his route happening to be in direct collision course with a certain ‘Doctors without Borders’ ship. There would be three distinct sounds they would here in the coming moments: The sound of blipping[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] as their scanners picked up Clanker approaching them, the [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]clack[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] as Clanker hits the starboard of their ship, and finally the desperate “roger-roger” on the open frequency as Clanker is struck out of energy-preservation and desperately tried to make sense of the situation. His spear, which is little more than a sturdy wooden stick with a piece of scrap metal tied to its end, had found its tip caught in some crevice of the vessel, giving him room to stabilize himself as he somehow maintained his grip on it, being dragged along for the ride, though whether this was good or bad luck was still up for debate. [/SIZE]

 

[Damsy Callat]

Form: Humanoid Location: Open space, approaching the Dread Queen​

Outfit / Equipment: Cutoff blacks top (bottom half is blue-detailed Dauntless armor) ​

/ Trident / Mk I Saberdart blaster / ID10 seeker droid "Squish"​

Tag: [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] / [member="Luna Terrik"] ​

Post: 01​

​

| I'm coming home, I'm coming home /​

\ Tell the world I'm coming home /​

\ Let the rain wash away /​

\ All the pain of yesterday |​

​

The amphib, stripped of its usual dull green color to be a steely grey and detailed with blue to match her chosen armor design, dropped out of hyperspace a safe distance from the SSD Dread Queen. In the months Damsy had been on Kamino, the angry fire that was the anger she held for her father burning bright--though, in the last days, only smoldering--even on Big Stormy, she had had ample time to pick up a new toy: a starfighter. Mak Bri, a young Kaminoan she had befriended, showed her the wreck of one left from the Battle of Kamino. For being shot down and subsequently sunk in the Clone Wars era, the ship was in relatively good shape, maybe because of the low salinity of the water it found itself in and the cove that kept scavengers of all kinds out.

Working together, him on an air whale and her in squaloid form, they dragged the ship back to Tipoca City. It was placed in an indoor hanger where she, he, Mak's father Cam Dru, and Naroh Se might work to fix it up without interception of the elements. And, for there, Mak taught her enough takeoff and, from there, the aiwha she found herself often flying alongside were the best teachers.

"Dauntless fighter Aquarius, coming about portside," she announced into the headset embedded in the Dauntless helmet she hadn't worn in far too long. "Will standby for landing clearance."

A beat of silence passed over the line. "What's your name, pilot?" Oh. The craft's registration was still new. Damsy had filled out the paperwork while still on Kamino, but it must have still been filtering through the pipeline. So she answered, "Damsy Callat." Another pause, longer this time. Something was shuffled and then the flight officer put a hand over his mic, but she could still make out a hushed conversation. "...it says here she's inactive, ma'am." To that, a woman's voice replied, "Yes, I see that, Ensign." Some interference came over the mic as the woman, assumedly, pulled the ensign's headset off and spoke into it herself. "...Welcome home, Callat. Dock hanger 6B."

Damsy couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. "Roger wilco."

'Welcome home'.

​

A series of overlapping, but soft, whirs and hums emanated from the black ID10 seeker droid floating behind Damsy as she quickly walked down the hall towards the Mess Hall. "We were lost, Squish," she said, pretending to be angry as she held her voice steady, "and Imma starve because you didn't download the ship schematics back in the hangar." Of course, they had asked more than a few crew members which way the Mess was, but even flawless directions given in an unfamiliar star destroyer left much to be desired.

But, in any case, they had made it, and Damsy was craving something other than the bland Kaminoan energy capsules she had stashed in her cockpit. She all but burst into the cafeteria, Squish folding his arms and legs to latch onto his charging port on his handler's back to avoid getting in the other soldiers' way. "Oh no, do I smell nyork chowder?!" she exclaimed. As she approached the grub line, she saw that, yes, in fact, she did. And beside the cauldron of it, portion bread, which it would pair well with.

Oh, the fish out of water wanted to faint, but she settled for grabbing a tray and waiting giddily in line.

 

[Kathryn Foster]

​

Location: Mess Hall
Wearing: Dress uniform
Tags: [member="Luna Terrik"], @Joannis Campbell, [member="Kiff Brayde"], [member="Kelsie Sylvan"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]

​

That such a massive warship as the vicelord's own flagship; the Dread Queen, could serve such a sweet treat were simply amazing. The food station had just served her a delicious piece of citros snow cake and a mug of hot black caf on a tray. Around the ash blonde navy cadet, others were digging in on more proper meals but she had taken hers in privacy before she came her. With hair worn in a braid, she were clad in her steel blue dress uniform with maroon details. Her LBP-3 blaster sat in a discreet holster on her right hip.

She turned around and silently scanned the hall for a free seat. It were a rather large crowd that had gathered for this little downtime, taking the time to socialize with one another. A wide variety of people from the different military branches seemed to be here. Looking back at her time in the Republic Navy, interacting across the branches were common and encouraged. You could not say the same about the First Order from what she had heard. 'Surprising'!

A couple of tables away, she saw a group of pilot colleagues chit-chatting over their meal, but she also noticed a small group that seemed to just be introducing themselves to eachother - great timing! They looked to be army folks all of them, so what could be a better time to make some aquaintances across the branches? See if the CIS were the First Order-type or the Republic-type? She steered a few long steps over to the table and came up beside the guy in the group, just as the armored woman quite shorter than herself, laid what must have been one of the most awkward comment that she had heard in a situation like this. She said nothing though, but thought that they must been very close for a comment like that.

''Is this seat taken?'' she spoke up and gave the guy a friendly, slightly interrogative look. Giving the others a glance to check if it were alright to join them.

 

[Ayda Elisantra]

Location: Open Space, approaching the Dread Queen
Interacting: [member="Dondagora"]
Posts: 3



"Don't know how well that Mando shipyard built these boats, as we're going to do some hard knocking..." The pilot said as the enormous hull now seemed to blot out open space itself.

"Hoppefully well enough..."
Ayda had already strapped herself in like the rest of her crew ...in the co-pilot's chair no less. Her pilot could only tighten his harness for there was nothing at all he could do now with dead drives. They were in a sort of fall, as their monitors started registering the minute natural gravity that such a large mass has in open space. It were fractional, but enough to slightly vector their original destination; one they had aimed for...an open bay.
​But now being under the influence of the minute pull of the SSD's gravity, their angle were slightly off and they were seemingly going to make a hard point nose landing on the side of it's hull.

"Wait...they're sending..." But no, he had jumped the gun, thinking the large vessel had deployed a drone to at least help them avoid a collision.
"What the?...are they dumping refuge out?" Only it weren't the sort of droid that one would expect. It were a free floating old battle droid which for some coincidence or another had been floating out there and like them, had been minutely attracted by the ship's gravity. Well, somehow both ships, as they hit the droid first, since they were travelling faster toward the bigger vessel.

"No, I don't think so...it's still seems to be functioning..." Ayda made note of the operational droid floating toward them.

​The thump...followed the the clankety clank of the little unit tumbling across their small hull drew their attention to it from the inside. It were rather comical for a moment as by the interior sound resonating from the tumbling droid gave the occupants a kind of sound/visual input as to what was happening outside. But that was short lived as a moment later

TA-ThuNKkkk!!... everyone inside seemed to have become rag dolls strapped to their seats when their ship finally collided with the massive hull. That instant and the moment following all the lights and monitors..everything went out. Little by little everything automatically rebooted, including the life support. Something which had weighed heavily on Ayda's mind. But it held...the integrity of the hull, or nose rather held. So the Mando's did build good ships after all...

...clankety te-clank clank..... that same sound were heard once more, only now going the other way. That very same droid outside on top seemed to have also come to a sudden halt, and somehow lost it's hold on their vessel causing it now to be tumbling forward toward the SSD. Naturally once it left contact with the exterior of their vessel, the clankety sound went silent. But not the droid. Ayda watched it fall in a way, from her cockpit glass and silently smack the same hull.

The pilot next to her started laughing, more so that their vessel weren't breached as they had no real pressure suits, other than bio/chem hermetic suits. Something not designed for the full vacuum of space. Well, maybe for a brief moment or two. But definitely not for any prolonged space walk.

Ayda of course didn't find their situation something to laugh about, turning to check on her crew members who were unstrapping themselves and hugging one another.
Her crew members were alright, say for some small strap bruises and tossed hair, with some of their ship's medical supplies which had come undone sprawled all over the floor.

She then looked back out on the droid, which sadly didn't seem to have survived the duel impacts of both their vessel and then the Dread Queen's.
It weren't moving.

But wait, their vessel seemed to!
They had impacted nose first and now it were slowly tilting toward the hull of the SSD......falling? Again the micro gravity of the SSD had influenced the tiny vessel to unbalance itself off it's nose drawing it in a manner, to the larger mass, the Dread Queen.

"Gasp!..." it were slowly, but surely heading to make contact broadside with the Dread Queen....with the poor lifeless droid between them. It were going to be crushed like a peanut...



[member="Dondagora"]

 

[Dondagora]

Location: Dread Queen Hangar Bay
Interacting: [member="Ayda Elisantra"]

Clanker floated lifelessly as a spec on the side of the Dread Queen, his right hand and both his legs made into scrap. He’d held onto his spear until the last minute when it came loose, the momentum of which allowed his body to turn and allow his lower half to take the brunt of the impact while his grip on the spear had actually torn off his fingers. In seconds, however, Clanker would reboot, all his joints making small movements to check on his status… and it wasn’t good. He was near out of energy and his visuals were glitching, allowing him only partial understanding of his current situation. Luckily, his prototype tactical logic module more or less filled in the blanks based on the events leading up to this unfortunate circumstance.

[SIZE=11pt]His spear floated by him, finger scraps still wrapped around it, and he took it with his left arm. The metal shrapnel that was tied to the tip had come somewhat loose. He also noted a slight vibration in the Dread Queen’s hull, drawing his attention to the ship he had hitchhiked his way on slowly falling his way. His high-pitched voice would make a simple statement over the open frequency. “[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Oh dear.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Clanker let his programming take over, trusting himself to MS-0 and the grand machinations for which he was surely meant for. Moving now with certainty, Clanker loosened the tip of the spear full, using his handless arm and his shapely head to hold onto the spear as his left hand maneuvered the metal blade, keeping the rope around it, and fixed it onto Clanker’s right forearm, tightening it as much as possible. It was now T-minus 7 seconds before Clanker would be crushed like a can between the two ships.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Removing the wooden stick from his hook-like head, Clanker aligned it perpendicular to the Dread Queen’s hull, adjusting its angle ever so slightly with the trajectory of the smaller ship, and then waited. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]5 seconds… [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]3 seconds… [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]2 seconds…[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]At the moment of when both ships had touched his stick, Clanker launched himself with his one good arm from the makeshift handle that was now fixed in place by both ships. T-minus 1 second, the stick snapped in two, and Clanker made himself small and compact, giving himself even just a millisecond more time as the metal valley closed in around him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]T-minus 0 second, the hulls clapped together, and Clanker had narrowly escaped otherwise certain death as he floated beside the two once more. His probability module put his chance of survival at 0.00001%. Praise be MS-0.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The new problem now was that he was once more just scrap in open space. At least now, though, he wasn’t spinning and had a destination within reach. The hangar entrance was about a hundred meters away on the other side of the crashed ship. Clanker slowed down about thirty meters from the crashed ship, the micro-gravity of the Dread Queen doing its work once more, and he moved quickly. Loosening the metal speartip he’d tied to his arm, Clanker took it in hand and recalled his training with the Ewok throwers that was ingrained now in his tactical module. With some small calculations, the B1 droid threw the metal, rope trailing behind it, and as intended the primitive projectile overshot the small ship slightly and allowed the micro-gravity to correct its course, letting it wrap around the turret barrel on its topside.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Clanker continued to move away until the rope yanked hard, actually ripping the rest of his right arm off. “[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Oh no.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]” The yank slowed him just enough for him to react, gripping his amputated limb with his left hand. With a sigh program initiated, the droid climbed until he could grab the rope again. Some might consider this sort of tenacity to strange in a droid, however this particular model had absorbed the tactical information of ewoks, their emphasis on survival using the most primitive of means and their fierceness in the face of near-impossible odds. Part of the droid’s many glitches respected the ewoks for that. The other parts, however, acknowledged that the ewoks simply lacked the capacity to calculate those near-impossible odds. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]After a few seconds, Clanker once more settled down on the Dread Queen’s haul before pushing away with both head and hand, gripping his only lifeline with as much power as he could spare. He shot out into the open and curved his trajectory about his rope-anchor on the small ship, his droid brain struggling to continuously calculate his route. At the moment of truth, however, his visuals went out, as they tended to do. There was no time for second-guessing. [MS-0 guide me once more.] Clanker let go of the rope, launching himself into the unknown.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]A second went by. And then two. Three… clank[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. He hit something! After about ten more seconds, his light receptors came online again, restoring visuals, and he found himself on the floor of the open bay, having thrown himself through the airlock barrier. Some troops were about, from what faction Clanker did not know, but the clear course of action now was clear. Lifting his torso upright with his head like a bird balancing on its beak, he addressed the soldiers before him. “[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]I am commandeering this vessel. Surrender now. Resistance is futile.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]”[/SIZE]

 

[Caesar Kenway]

​

[SIZE=11pt]The Uniform[/SIZE]​

The Minister was standing on the Command Deck of the Dread Queen, looking out into the beautiful field of stars, into the deep void of endless space. It never ceased to brighten his spirits, and amaze him at just how beautiful the untamed galaxy could be. He'd been put in Forma-Command of the Dread Queen, in the absence of it's usual Captain, the Vicelord, Isley Verd, or more commonly, Darth Metus. For multiple reasons, one, and chief among the others, to bond with the troops and officers he was in Supreme Command of. Other reasons would include him being a trusted man with experience should the Super Star Destroyer come under hostile attack, or boarded by any band of pirates with a lower IQ rating than how long their siege would last before they ran back with tails between their legs.

He was enjoying the view out into open space, and had been for some time, sipping on a glass of expensive brandy, having his own little celebration before he handed off to the highest ranking member of the bridge crew to take care of the ship while he went down to the messhall, to meet with some of the Confederate Leadership, perhaps some Dauntless Squad Leaders. It was then that one of the comms officers decided to speak up after awhile of hushed whispering between them. He told them that they had been receiving scrambled to distorted hails from a vessel for about half an hour. Caesar turned to face them, looking rather annoyed, then, they informed him that several troopers had found a droid in one the Hangar Bays, then one of the scanner crew told him they had detected a vessel impacting their hull.

The annoyed expression turned to almost fury at the comms crew. His attention was then drawn away as he gave orders for the droid to be apprehended by the soldiers, then taken to the brig for questioning. As for the ship that had hit them? He thought back to basic training, years before he even joined the Confederacy, or became a politician, during his Naval Academy days. There were protocols for this. He ordered for four tugboats to be dispatched to the ship that had hit them, to pull it into the Hangar, then for shields to be focused on the hull where the ship had been hit, and finally for two Praetorian-Class Battledroid, four F.E.A.R. Class Security Droids, and a few Dauntless Commandos to be dispatched to the Hangar bay to await his arrival, and keep the unidentified ship on lockdown until he arrived.

Before he left for the hangar, he made two final orders. One. Dispatch a droid repair crew to where the hull had been hit. Two. The overseeing Bridge Marshall was in command of regular bridge operations. He then went to the elevator, and pressed a button, sending it down to the Hangar level, where he got out, starting a brisk walk for a few minutes, heading to the hangar, where he entered, hand on the pommel of the ceremonial sword on his belt, and he then straightened his cap.

[member="Dondagora"] [member="Ayda Elisantra"]​

 

[Ayda Elisantra]

Location: Open Space, approaching the Dread Queen
Interacting: [member="Dondagora"] [member="Caesar Kenway"]
Posts: 4

There was nothing they could do but watch and brace for light impact again...when it would come. Although it were taking a bit of an excruciating minute for their ship ship's hull to finally clank against the dread Queen.

But what of the droid?
Ayda had last see it starboard before it went out of sight as their vessel overshadowed it. had they crushed it? Despite the fact it were a droid didn't lessen the concern on the young doctor. She weren't one that enjoyed destruction...not even for the sake of recycling really. Well, that sentimental feeling were for intelligent mechanical droids, more so than say an evaporative condenser or a speeder. They were just mechanical devises...tools really. But droids on the other hand, especially medical droids which of course extended to protocol and astro-mech droids..they did touch upon empathy.

And this particular droid, although from what she remembered coming across her studies had been designed as a battle droid. Now she weren't at all sure as to how she felt about battle droids as a whole. Most likely she could imagine many other useful tasks they could be incited (programmed) to perform than take part in battles. But battle programmed or not, it did have some means of self preservation and intelligence...or so she felt.
Still, she held her breath as the last few silent seconds ticked inside before the ship shuddered somewhat. It were not at all to the intensity as their initial impact, but a few already loose and sprawled about medical items got jarred about.

'Look...there it is!...' one of the female crew member, a nurse called out, spotting what seemed to be the very same droid that their ship had been set on crushing, was floating away at an unusual pace.
it soon became evident that it had somehow gotten a hold of a line or a tether of sort. But it was still functioning and certainly had not gotten crushed as they had thought.

Well, that little excitement was short lived as where the droid went or where it landed was difficult to say as they could no longer see anything but what looked like a dura-steel landscape with abutments at eye level they had come to rest against the Dread Queen. They had lost sight of the hanger bay they had originally aimed for and had no idea it had been the direction as to where the droid had disappeared to.
besides, they were still in the same boat so to speak...still needing rescue.

It weren't but another 10, maybe 15 minutes before a vessel's shadow overcast them from the nearby star.
It were a crane salvager...a robust vessel retriever, no doubt from the massive vessel they knocked on.
it were heard clamping down on their vessel and they soon found themselves pulling away from the hull of the Dread Queen.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They had finally been picked up.


10 minutes later, and inside one of the main service hangars...

Their vessel were gently lowered down to the deck, before one of the ambulatory crew members opened up the airlock. There was hardly any reserve power left for their ramp to fully extend before it stopped short of the hangar deck.
"Lena, wait." Ayda reached out to the overanxious nurse.
"Let me meet with them first..." She stepped up in front of the girl. It were apparent that for some reason or other the Dread Queen's scanners or what ever detail had been in charge, had been oblivious of their presence until they bumped/crashed into the hull. Ayda, nor any of her crew had any clue as to the current hi-jinks of that droid they had almost crushed was causing in another bay.

It were about a meter that she had to jump from the ambulatory corvette to the deck, as the ramp had stopped working due to lack of power.
"We're unarmed... " She immediately found herself to say, for as she jumped down, a few blasters came up.
"We were out of fuel and power....we did hail." yes, they hailed, had followed proper protocol when approaching a larger vessel...especially an SSD Class from nearly a 1/2 million kilometers distance from when they first picked it up. But being low on fuel, they were on sub-lights and took them a few hours until they were completely exhausted. Then the last few hundred or so kilometers using whatever reserve power to work their retro's, they had managed to slow down enough to avoid becoming a projectile.
But the rest of the trek was just on momentum.

Still...BANG they did hit the hull of the SSD...maybe even chipping some of the Dread Queen's paint....maybe.
Ayda knew enough not to make matters worse as she showed her hands.
"We're a humanitarian group...two nurses, an orderly, pilot and myself..." She then said.

She knew the drill. She and her crew had served on many battlefronts and doctors or not, they had no diplomatic immunity. Most factions didn't like the fact that 'Doctors Without Borders' treated everyone, including the enemy wounded. This sometimes put the group in a bind...often being charged with aiding and abetting the enemy.

But truth be told, Doctors Without Borders had no enemies regardless of who they were..being sith, jedi, FO or Republic. They even aided mandos and Huttese if they had a need to. In short, many times they found themselves questioned and held until a superior cleared them...




[member="Caesar Kenway"]
[member="Dondagora"]