@[member="Diana Moridena"]http://starwarsrp.net/user/2157-diana-moridena/ @[member="Rasu Gan"] @
Balaya Zambrano
Hours Ago Before the Battle:
Mon Calamari, Ursurpa Isles [Temporary HQ of the Resistance]
A young Mon Cal, born of dark red skin and eyes of gray stood on the shores of the small island beach. The tides were coming in, the sea water rose up the sandy banks, splashing over the young Mon Cal’s boots. He starred; day dreaming out across the sea was the far away capital of the planet, New Coral City. The Sith have occupied this planet for centuries, little to no help came from anyone, not even the Republic.
The young Mon Cal closed his large eyes slowly as the sight of the capital form his point of view was being enveloped from the skies to the sea, from his point of view the city was now in the center, shrinking as his eye lids came to a close. He went over the events that brought him here, he was not even born here, no one in his family has seen their ancestral world in many generations. This was not by choice, long ago the Sith laid siege to Mon Calamari and its neighboring systems. It was an onslaught, devastating the populace and an immense blockade prevented any aid form the Republic….The people were abandon, by the Republic, by the Jedi, by everyone. No evacuations were able to leave the planet in time, an assortment of civilian and few military vessels already in orbit were able to flee into hyperspace, a destination unknown as they were shamed to ask the Republic for help.
Time passed and no aid came to the people of Mon Calamari, the planet natives were left for enslavement and those who escaped in a moments breath were now a generational fleet. The Floatilla, the home of the young Mon Cal whose mind now pulled from personal memories of his childhood, growing up in the fleet. Shamed to even ask the Republic for help the refugees became nomadic, traveling along a deterred route every few months to avoid any known factions. No worlds could be settled upon, they had no means to protect themselves. The only way they survived was to constantly keep moving and evading potential threats. The fleet was nothing impressive, mostly outdated ships, kept together by families of engineers and scraps.
“Donatos….” A voice called out to the young Mon Cal, that was his name, Donatos.
In the swirl of memories and recordings of history, his thoughts raced back to the first time his grandfather instructed him on how to repair the Hyperdrive engines. Technology and repair and even piloting came naturally to the young Mon Cal, it was in his blood. His grandfather would pat him on the back at this moment of time, delighted to see his grandson learn…but then sadden to think he would live a life of repetition. The frowning wrinkles on his grandfathers face was starting to fade as new thoughts appeared.
“Donatos…”
The day of his pilgrimage came, when young males and females of the fleet came to adulthood, they would leave their home in the stars and venture into the known Galaxy. This was at first a necessity for the earlier refugees of the fleet, but centuries passed it became an honored tradition. The youth would seek out new resources and information to help support the home fleet. The usual returnees came with trading posts, deposits of fresh and saltwater, spare parts and refurbished ships. Donatos though had wanted something completely different. He loves his people, and wanted to return them the ultimate gift any one could give, their homeworld. A group of young pilots filled the cloudy thoughts of Donatos, they were taking off in their personal scrap ships. Each leaving in different routes, some to the Mid Rim, others to space stations…Donatos set a course for Coruscant. His idea was that if became a qualified politician and representative of his people he could perhaps persuade help to liberate Mon Calamari.
His time on Coruscant was not ideal, he was accepted as an Intern and aid in the Senate for local dignitaries, but was forced to pick a technicians job to support himself while he lived in the Capital of the Galaxy. One day at work, he recalled a group of Jedi were escorting the Vice Chancellor to his private residence, but was ambushed by a bounty hunter was it? Thoughts fast forwarded, Donatos aided in the protection of the Vice Chancellor and his connection to the Force was discovered, by the Jedi escorts and himself. He was brought to the Temple and agreed to be learn the Jedi ways. If he became an elite politician and Jedi Knight, his prestige would certainly grow and thus accelerate his goals to liberate Mon Calamari.
One day while dropping off supplies by Commoner’s Spaceport, a huge sentient creature busted threw the walls of the space port who then hijacked a civiilain shuttle and fled the planet. Contacting the Temple, Donatos was informed the whale like creature he saw was a Jedi named, Hion. Something happened at the temple, provoking Hion to fall to the dark side and obliterated a Padawan learned while injuring multiple others in his escape. Donatos volunteered to track Hion down and report his findings to the Temple.
Days of searching, Donatos finally found where Hion was….he retreated into Sith occupied space….Mon Calamari, or Dac by many. Donatos didn’t remember exactly what happened next, his fighter came spiraling down from the planets orbit, it was during a storm and his ship crashed into the ocean. He later swam ashore to a dock in New Coral City…he encountered a Sith guard and subdued him. He would have been caught by authorities, if it wasn’t for an old Mon Calamarian, named Serjorah. The old Mon had helped him rid the body of the incapacitated solider and brought him to a sanctuary, an underground church hidden in the city’s sewer systems. Serjorah was a priest, but soon became a valued friend as they encouraged the moral of the citizens living in ghettos and grottos.
The moral of encouraging the inhabitants to not give up, was perceived as inspiration to fight back and so they did. Donatos was pulled into it and helped in defensive matters, but was brought to the attention of the populace by Serjorah who proclaimed Donatos as their Jedi Savior. His original assignment to track down Hion was lost as the whale went off the radar for a while and people began to treat and expect Donatos to continue this rebellion.
“Donatos….”
The voice called out, and memories of personal experience and recordings were sent into a void of nothingness.
Donatos opened his eyes, the sun was setting and tides were now up to his belt. He turned in the water to find an elderly Mon Cal standing on the sandy banks. Serjorah was wearing tattered red robes and a golden shell necklace, artifacts of their people’s religious order that were reclaimed from a Sith cache in one of their recent assaults.
The old Mon, folded his bulbous arms and watched as Donatos began to strode out from the water as if he was reenacting the evolutionary illustrations of their people.
“I have been calling out to you for a while, my son. Perhaps I should have called you by your new title…Azu-Cal?” The old Mon tilted his large head, which was adorned with a small bowl shaped cap.
Donatos placed a hand on the old Mons shoulder when took his final step out from the sea. Azu-Cal was a named bestowed upon him by Serjorah during their first congregation of the resistance. It was derived from Azu’nami, the spiritual entity of Mon Calamari. Azu-Cal in brief translation meant someone heroic, noble and close to Azu’nami.
“Donatos will suffice old man.” The young Mon Cal said giving a short smile.
“I was contemplating….and day dreaming…..about everything. Are our forces ready?”
The old Mon gave a nod, indicating yes. His necklace of golden shells jingled with the motion of his head bobbing back up. “A blessing my son, before you leave?” Donatos responded with an similar nod, he then knelt down on the sandy shore, resting both hands on his raised lap.
Serjorah leaned forward to meet eye level with Donatos, though Donatos closed his eyes once more. The old man began to say something arcane in a lost language that mostly sounded like croaking noises as issued a hand gesture above Donatos’ head. The old Mon with one webbed finger, made the upper arc of a C and then brought his finger straight down as it touched Donatos. The gesture was the common prayer sign of those who followed Azu’nami. The arc symbolized that like the ocean, life finds ways to rise. And the instance of brining the arc straight down was to reinforce that all things living will die.
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Present Time:
Onboard the Orbital Ring, Ship Yards of Mon Calamari.
The mission was successful, word had gotten out to the Republic that Mon Cal was starting to revolt and were making serious progress on their own. Leading a squadron of former slaves, now reformed elite forces was Donatos, who brought his team to the Orbital Ring on a hijacked Sith shuttle. Their assignment was to locate key locations throughout the Ring and activate EMP charges that subdue the stations defenses in time for the Republic to arrive.
“Move!” Donatos croaked out in a bellowing shout, as one of his men activated a hand held switch that unleashed the EMP detonation in the main docking bay. The Southern ports were not immobilized and so too were there turret systems. Donatos punched the control panel on a hall way wall after all his men got through, the door slide down shut and lights began shut down all at once. Their visors allowed them to see through night vision, the urgency to run from the EMP blast was not that it would have harmed anything biological, but because it was detonated in the hangar bay meant the safety shields were disabled and anything and anyone in the hangar would be sucked into space. A quick headcount and Donatos lead the charge down the corridors against security guards. None were Sith, but they were aligned with them and non native to Mon Calamari, Donatos took their lives with a little less confliction.
His forces were leading EMP charges throughout the Ring and most of their stolen hi tech weaponry would be as useless as the blasters the security guards carried. Instead Donatos and his elites carried newly forged vibroswords. They slashed and stabbed their way to the control center, some of his men dropped their swords to take up blasters from newly arrived and now newly dead guards who came from the East and West sections of the station. They were away from the intial EMP blasts, so their guns were less affected, now it became a laser fight outside the command center. Donatos had picked up a pistol, but he and his men were now hiding behind two corners in the halls, dodging the Western side where guards who were also protected behind their corners. The Eastern guards were lacking in number and were taken down before the Western guards arrived, but now it was a standstill and time was of the essence. As Donatos pulled back behind the corner after firing three missing shots, the guards began to yell and fall one by one. From behind their corners were a smaller strike team on Mon Cals and a hovering astromech droid.
“Azu-Cal!” One of the newly arrived soldiers called out to his commander and presented him with a silver and black cylinder. Donatos thanked the solider, though still getting used to his bestowed title and pressed a switch on the cylindrical hilt, emitting a red beam of light. A Sith lightsaber confiscated in one of their skirmishes was now his prime weapon. Donatos had ordered a separate team to land in the Western hangar, but not set off any EMP’s this way they could bring him his saber and the droid they needed to use to hack the communications systems in the command center.
Donatos plunged the humming saber into the sealed door of the command center, cutting a circular entrance for his forces to enter. Once the door was sliced and pushed down by the Mon Cals, Donatos rushed in and intercepted blaster fire with the Sith saber, deflecting the bolts away from him and the entrance. His forces entered in two single files and spread out across the command center, each fired precise shots at enemy guards. Once the room was secured, the small Western team of Mon Cals unpacked four disk shaped panels and attached them to the corners of the remaining sealed door. The four disks beeped and shot out violets lasers intersecting one another and spreading until forming an effective shield. This would protect them a little while longer from any more guards who were surely on their way.
During the time the shield was connecting across the cut door entry way, the floating droid Western team brought had been connected and running security codes into the main computer. Once it achieved most of the operations it needed, including the outer shielding, communications and automated turret control of Orbital Ring, did it give a confident chirp. It opened a hailing frequency to incoming Republic vessels. Donatos was now broadcasting a live holo message to the Republic and to the Sith forces as well.
Disabling the lightsaber, Donatos took on a regal like pose as he began his message with urgency in his raspy voice.
“This is the Resistance; we have disabled most of the defenses on the station. The Southern ports are down, and we have secured the command center. We need reinforcements now! We cannot hold our position for long-” The message was interrupted as blaster fire came over the comm system and Donatos ignited the Sith saber again before his image faded.
