FalloutJack

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

TARAK

Transition was boring.

The act of travel, in any sense, was singularly-devoted towards arriving at a destination in which something of value may transpire. Without diversion, the mind goes to places unpleasant, as it would rather be anywhere other than here. It was only natural. This ship of his, the Cleaving Tusk, had neither diversion nor any intention of such a frivolous activity to be engaged in the first place. Spend his time focused on a waste of time during which his time was already used in getting to the place where his focus would rather be? He'd rather sleep. In fact, that is what he did. The cockpit did little more than accommodate pilot in the basic of ways, and so the large Zabrak simply sat, arms crossed and apparently asleep to retain more energy for when he was arrived.

It was only when he jumped in that he became more active, yellow-orange eyes snapping open.

The smallish black craft had dropped out of hyperspace on the fringe of Coruscant's System, and as expected, what it would find there was a case of the planet being guarded by Imperial forces - ISDs with possible Interdictor craft that would've stalled an approach by hyperspace, anyway. - and...while he did not spot the opposing fleet of the Republic in the system at all...you didn't need the Force to figure out that they were waiting for their time to strike. Still, even if they were around, Tarak needed not worry much about detection yet. Not to say that the craft was invisible, but the Cleaving Tusk was something around the size of a long-range fighter, alone, and colored black. It would register on any scopes that were looking for anything significant, but he'd only be staying in range long enough to know they were there, and he wouldn't be large enough to be of importance. Not unless either thought he was a recon ship, in which case the chase after him might become more interesting later, but for now...he had his instructions.

Upon assessing the basic situation, he was to make make contact with his Master. Tarak operated the holocomm...

As opposed to a cloaked or hooded figure, as one might expect, the figure that appeared in the image was that of an undisguised man who looked like he might be in some sort of uniform. Sadly, you couldn't tell what kind or see his face because the picture was blurred at the source. Theoretically, anyone could be at the other end of it, but Tarak knew. He could feel it across the hyperwave, the chilling touch of the Force given off by the Sith who gave him life.

"Master Diabolus..."

"Mr. Tarak... I trust you have assessed the situation with your own eyes?"

"I have."

"Your thoughts?"

"A battle is waiting to happen, though much of it will be in space, for a while."

"It is for such a purpose I designed that ship. Should it be required for combat, at least your vehicle of choice would be considered quality."

"Indeed. It is a pity the additions I wanted were not included."

"Vibroblading wings are not EXACTLY an efficient means of attack, Tarak. I shall see about an upgraded ship in due course, but in the meantime, you shall make planetfall and make Coruscant your battlegrounds. If there are any Jedi who wish to reclaim the planet, they will flock to this place, the sentimental fools. And if you find any Sith there bound by that outdated Rule of Two, no mercy. Sidious was a fool to cling to that notion and I WILL murder all who defy our purpose, especially with such pathetic reasonings hindering them."

Of course, having to kill a Sith who won't break with tradition WAS technically aiding in that tradition, but it was the Master's intention to wipe that notion out for the sake of the Dark Side's survival. There was only so much one could take, and the next generation needed to be guided properly.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No. You can appeal to the sitting ruler if you wish, perhaps put him in a position to grant certain resources in return for our favor, but otherwise exercise your will until desperation forces them to consider things OUR way..."

With nothing further to say, Tarak would take his ship to find a way to sneak on by into Coruscant's atmosphere, perhaps even undetected if he did so well.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Singe

Transition was fruitful.

Corellian Freighters weren't much to look at, but they were spatious and had accommodations probably better than her own. Actually, hers weren't so bad, but it was the little things that you miss. For instance, the fact that the ship HAD a shower and that Goggles - Bless his little tubby self. - had no problems letting her use the ship's water supply for how ever long it took her to get properly clean was definitely a godsend. Of course, he insisted, due to his nose being offended, but it was still a decent gesture, all told. This said everything, really. How much she missed being around people, how much she had deprived herself, how much this change was necessary... But even as she relaxed and cleaned, Singe still could not remove that involuntary shudder from the incident, the water cascading over her, reminding the Slicer of her time in the bacta tank, back then. She couldn't see the old scar on her back, but she knew it was there.

It was later, when Singe was dressed and back in her gear again, that she heard the clatter of something moving in the duct work. She was browsing the hypernet when this happened. There was no way that the Tynnan had vermin on this ship, 'cause he was small enough to follow them into all the nooks and crannies, so- Wait, that's actually him, isn't it? This was soon confirmed by him attempting to make conversation.

"So uhh...since we got a while before we hit Nar Shaddaa, why the change?"

"You're not spying on me, are you?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. I'd lose a good client that way. I get curious, that's all."

"I guess I can understand that."

"You ain't my type, if that's what's bothering you."

"I wouldn't think so."

"Yeah, so...answers?"

"It's going to get harder to predict Imperial actions with the Empire fragmenting. I need to be closer to the action, now that they're hurting. In the meantime, I'm keeping my eyes open. I'm not really gonna be much of a talker for some hours."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. Shouldn't be much longer a wait."

More ductwork scampering was heard as Goggles left her area. His race could be so strange, sometimes...

Dragon Ball: Universe Zero

@Balthazar007 A thought: If exhaustion is affecting health, you may want to add a proviso that you aren't likely to exhaust yourself to death, and that you're mainly stunned if you conk out, whereas someone trying to kill you is a bit different.

Dragon Ball: Universe Zero

@Balthazar007 Fortunately, I have one in mind. Aaand Niko's trainer actually has a superior version to boot.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

The second.

Said Character

Name: Tarak

Alias: Darth Tarak

Race: Zabrak (Male)

Faction: Sith, but only one in particular.

Alignment: Evil

Class: Force Sensitive (Sith)

Appearance: Heh heh heh heh heh heh...

Tarak is big, like Savage Opress big, and built for combat. He is not Dathomirian, however, but something different. Long ago, Zabrak were originally designed by the Rakata when they had lost their attunement to the Force. A genetically-engineered species, you can imagine that several different stages of development occurred to produce the battle-hardy people. Sometimes, a quirk of genetics brings forth a version with greater potential for violence than any normal member of their kind. This is looked down upon by other Zabrak as a 'Retrograde'. They are a proud people, never turning from a challenge, but Tarak is more naturally gifted in brutality, and he is marked thus, as all retrogrades are born with somewhat thicker horns, the pair located in the forehead region actually meant for headbutting and caving in skulls.

He is deeply-tanned in complexion, with a dirty-golden color in his eyes surrounding orange pupils and black-slit irises. Because his own kind are disgusted by this throwback heritage, and because he is a Sith, you would find him in a loose-fitting black mantle with a hood, more like a coat that is weather resistant, keeps the sun out of his eyes, and prevents immediate recognition. Underneath it, he is wearing modern body armor clothing, a mixture of the rough and the smooth textures, also cast darkly while broken by gray or silver where there is an outlining or something. His belt is Krayt Tail. His boots are industrial gear, insulated against hazards. Everything about him screams of unbreakable force. Whether that is true or not, aye, that's the kicker.

Personality: Let us begin...

Mr. Tarak is unique. I use that word specifically. He is a marvelous piece of work, mentally and physically at his peak. You've seen his body, and now you shall see his mind. He is as potentially savage as indicated, but I have both fortified AND enhanced these qualities. To leave him as an easily-aggravated creature would be a waste. That particular quality will come later. No, I trained him well, and so his savage fury, his monstrous brutality, his penchant for annihilation - all of this is a well-constructed sword. He has learned to suppress with contempt when those who are below him are not worth the fullness of his rage, and to burst at will against that which is far more deserving.

Normally, a Retrograde could not do thus, of course, but the benefit of proper genetic manipulation, technology which has been accessable for years, is that you can isolate some of the tendancies while allowing others to flourish. And so, Tarak is a Retrograde whose mind is an aquaduct of rage which flows marvelously, waiting for the floodgates to open and deluge all who stand before him. He functions as any sentient being...but he is also a Sith, and thus embraces the darkness to take what he desires, to fight and kill and relish in the act of combat. He does not back down from a challenge easily, yet knows when to cut his losses. He is anger incarnate, like an exploding sun, but only when he decides to loosen his grip. That is my gift to the galaxy, a perfect killing machine made of flesh and blood and Force.

The above statement is true, though it contains a fair amount of ego. What it doesn't say is that Tarak has more than killing on his mind. You see, he was not born an oppressed and hated individual on Iridonia. He was born in a lab, and is quite aware of the facts surrounding his life, but has not actually experienced it all, due to being trained in isolation until ready by a Sith Lord. Said Master used the most insidious weapon he could think of to retain Tarak's loyalty, which was The Truth. Therefore, he knows that he will not be accepted by Zabrak society, and perhaps not others, as well. Because his Master has worked to his benefit, Tarak has no reason to turn on him, not even for making him this way, because he also understands that it was purposed, and that it makes him strong. The only issue is that he somehow wants something more than what is provided...and he doesn't even know what.

Items: Good stuff in here.

Double Interlocking Light Saber - That is to say, a pair of individual light sabers that may interlock at the hilts to form a double-bladed saber. They are Krayt-scale over black metal with two ignition switches. The blades are lava crystal, creating intense heat and actually dripping with heated substance.

The Cleaving Tusk - An unmarked, unregistered, and largely unheard of fighter-bomber, a prototype for a kind of Sith-style vessel. It has a relatively-slim bodywork, with cockpit in front and a gradual tappering towards the back, with four wing-like protrusions that are similar in style to an X-Wing in attack mode, but they are shorter and seem more like tempered blades with end-mounted guns. Engines are towards the back, though the VERY back of the ship houses an energy bomber, not unlike a Tie-Bomber's own device. Basic shielding, decent scanners, hyperdrive enabled, etc. This fighter is designed as a nimble marauding vessel, built for strafing and bombing, but also quick maneuvers, especially when tucking its wings in towards the back (also then pointing the guns in that direction) and slipping into small places with its relatively-narrow profile. It is ideal for a force-user, it's dangerous in a Sith's hands.

Background: Now, let me tell you a story...

You're probably thinking 'A Zabrak. How original.', but I scoff at you for such thoughts. The Zabrak species was designed by the Rakata to a purpose. They were to be their battle-chargers, their warriors, their gauntlets thrown when the Force abandoned their own bodies. Potentially, they would have even become their new bodies, given time, but the Rakata died out and the Zabrak did not. The only thing left was for someone to realize their potential and use them. Truly, Sith of the old age did, and the Sisters of Dathomir OBVIOUSLY understood. It certainly seemed a prosperous move for Sidious, at one time. Ah, Sidious, you shriveled old fool... Where was I? Ah yes... Tarak.

He was neither born on Iridonia nor Dathomir, but in a tank eiither built from the designs of or stolen from the planet Kamino. There, a man waited patiently to train him. He was not accelerated in development. Short-term solutions lead to long-term failures. He was, instead, raised and educated from the beginning by both driods and that one man, he who would become his Master, and the Master of all who lived and breathed. We're going to run this galaxy, you and I. It will be such fun... Because of this, Tarak was able to develop as a normal member of his species, but isolated from his kind due to the fact that he was made exploiting the genetic throwback condition known as Retrograde Syndrome. He had been shown videos of others like him and how his kind reacted to him, and then told that though he was superior to them in every way, they would never accept his existence. His Master used this as the beginning tool to fuel his anger, and went on to state that he made him this way on purpose. Never give up a potential advantage, no matter how cruel it may be. Revel in your strength, your power. When none dare to challenge you, when the FEAR grips their hearts and minds forever, you are truly free.

Time went on, and you might think that his Master needed to oppress his student in order to retain his position, but no. As a great manipulator, that man decided that with the truth, Tarak would only anger and never feel betrayed, and if he were placated - with he playing the constant benefactor who knows all and understands his frustrations - he would himself never betray. And this worked. As teacher, his Master was harsh, but all that and more would be expected of him. He was only preparing himself for the worlds beyond. In time, Tarak grew in strength and fighting prowess, using the force by the greatest of battle instinct and being one with the tide that was his rage. He was ready, and that was when his Master told him of the Plan...

We are at a crossroads in the galaxy, Mr. Tarak. They out there have known fear and turmoil, misery and rage, chaos and strife... I have been preparing for this moment, and now it is here. What we shall do is this... All that is has been turned on its head by the Force. Once, there was balance, and then those fools with the Rule of Two made our side weaker, and so the Jedi overwhelmed the galaxy. But then, as luck would have it, their complacency caused their downfall, and we shall rise again. I have been in study, and in experimentation, waiting...watching... We will now bring this galaxy to its knees, remove the last errant traces of those with the Force, and then...push back with everything, so they are left reeling forever.

'When none dare to challenge you, you are truly free.' Those were his Master's words. He said that he would make this struggle for balance in the Force irrelevent, and he was the key. Sadly, it was not explained how, but his Master did say that it was possible with the right amount of study and research. Tarak was not his only experiment, just his most successful. Always, there was this feeling that something tremendous was in the works. He was given such indication, plenty of times, and assured that their power would be endless and overwhelming, and that the keys to this power had been developed over the course of many years and many battles, all of which the Master had witnessed with his own eyes. Tarak never quite got that part, as his Master seemed quite young. Nevertheless, he would do these things for his cause and see where they went. He had not done him a misdeed, but rather made him alive and real by his own hands. And while the feeling that he may be missing something that the man could not provide, there was no reason not to work to his benefit, to their benefit, for power and glory.

Supporting Characters: And now...

Darth Diabolus - Greetings. At last, we meet. I am the Master and the creator of Mr. Tarak, and it is I who have interjected within this file. After all, am I not a part of my greatest pupil, my dreaded apprentice? I ahould think so. I have a plan for this galaxy, for the future of all life on these worlds and out in space. As much as Jedi and Sith, warlords and revolutionaries, paupers and peacemakers have moved, I have been the shadow behind, the darkness beneath, the void beyond.... Long have I lived, though I share the face of human. In my time, I have always stirred things up, changed events towards the most violent outcomes. Now, as things are truly shaken up with the death of worlds and a fractured Empire, I will push things closer to the precipace, and the balance of all things will fall forever into darkness and chaos.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

He is ready.

Said Character

Name: Tarak

Alias: Darth Tarak

Race: Zabrak (Male)

Faction: Sith, but only one in particular.

Alignment: Evil

Class: Force Sensitive

Appearance: Heh heh heh heh heh heh...

Tarak is big, like Savage Opress big, and built for combat. He is not Dathomirian, however, but something different. Long ago, Zabrak were originally designed by the Rakata when they had lost their attunement to the Force. A genetically-engineered species, you can imagine that several different stages of development occurred to produce the battle-hardy people. Sometimes, a quirk of genetics brings forth a version with greater potential for violence than any normal member of their kind. This is looked down upon by other Zabrak as a 'Retrograde'. They are a proud people, never turning from a challenge, but Tarak is more naturally gifted in brutality, and he is marked thus, as all retrogrades are born with somewhat thicker horns, the pair located in the forehead region actually meant for headbutting and caving in skulls.

He is deeply-tanned in complexion, with a dirty-golden color in his eyes surrounding orange pupils and black-slit irises. Because his own kind are disgusted by this throwback heritage, and because he is a Sith, you would find him in a loose-fitting black mantle, more like a coat that is weather resistant, keeps the sun out of his eyes, and prevents immediate recognition. Underneath it, he is wearing modern body armor clothing, a mixture of the rough and the smooth textures, also cast darkly while broken by gray or silver where there is an outlining or something. His belt is Krayt Tail. His boots are industrial gear, insulated against hazards. Everything about him screams of unbreakable force. Whether that is true or not, aye, that's the kicker.

Personality: Let us begin...

Mr. Tarak is unique. I use that word specifically. He is a marvelous piece of work, mentally and physically at his peak. You've seen his body, and now you shall see his mind. He is as potentially savage as indicated, but I have both fortified AND enhanced these qualities. To leave him as an easily-aggravated creature would be a waste. That particular quality will come later. No, I trained him well, and so his savage fury, his monstrous brutality, his penchant for annihilation - all of this is a well-constructed sword. He has learned to suppress with contempt when those who are below him are not worth the fullness of his rage, and to burst at will against that which is far more deserving.

Normally, a Retrograde could not do thus, of course, but the benefit of proper genetic manipulation, technology which has been accessable for years, is that you can isolate some of the tendancies while allowing others to flourish. And so, Tarak is a Retrograde whose mind is an aquaduct of rage which flows marvelously, waiting for the floodgates to open and deluge all who stand before him. He functions as any sentient being...but he is also a Sith, and thus embraces the darkness to take what he desires, to fight and kill and relish in the act of combat. He does not back down from a challenge easily, yet knows when to cut his losses. He is anger incarnate, like an exploding sun, but only when he decides to loosen his grip. That is my gift to the galaxy, a perfect killing machine made of flesh and blood and Force.

The above statement is true, though it contains a fair amount of ego. What it doesn't say is that Tarak has more than killing on his mind. You see, he was not born an oppressed and hated individual on Iridonia. He was born in a lab, and is quite aware of the facts surrounding his life, but has not actually experienced it all, due to being trained in isolation until ready by a Sith Lord. Said Master used the most insidious weapon he could think of to retain Tarak's loyalty, which was The Truth. Therefore, he knows that he will not be accepted by Zabrak society, and perhaps not others, as well. Because his Master has worked to his benefit, Tarak has no reason to turn on him, not even for making him this way, because he also understands that it was purposed, and that it makes him strong. The only issue is that he somehow wants something more than what is provided...and he doesn't even know what.

Items: Good stuff in here.

Double Interlocking Light Saber - That is to say, a pair of individual light sabers that may interlock at the hilts to form a double-bladed saber. They are Krayt-scale over black metal with two ignition switches. The blades are lava crystal, creating intense heat and actually dripping with heated substance.

The Cleaving Tusk - An unmarked, unregistered, and largely unheard of fighter-bomber, a prototype for a kind of Sith-style vessel. It has a relatively-slim bodywork, with cockpit in front and a gradual tappering towards the back, with four wing-like protrusions that are similar in style to an X-Wing in attack mode, but they are shorter and seem more like tempered blades with end-mounted guns. Engines are towards the back, though the VERY back of the ship houses an energy bomber, not unlike a Tie-Bomber's own device. Basic shielding, decent scanners, hyperdrive enabled, etc. This fighter is designed as a nimble marauding vessel, build for strafing and bombing, but also quick maneuvers, especially when tucking its wings in towards the back (also then pointing the guns in that direction) and slipping into small places with its relatively-narrow profile. It is ideal for a force-user, it's dangerous in a Sith's hands.

Background: Now, let me tell you a story...

You're probably thinking 'A Zabrak. How original.', but I scoff at you for such thoughts. The Zabrak species was designed by the Rakata to a purpose. They were to be their battle-chargers, their warriors, their gauntlets thrown when the Force abandoned their own bodies. Potentially, they would have even become their new bodies, given time, but the Rakata died out and the Zabrak did not. The only thing left was for someone to realize their potential and use them. Truly, Sith of the old age did, and the Sisters of Dathomir OBVIOUSLY understood. It certainly seemed a propserous move for Sidious, at one time. Ah, Sidious, you shriveled old fool... Where was I? Ah yes... Tarak.

He was neither born on Iridonia nor Dathomir, but in a tank eiither built from the designs of or stolen from the planet Kamino. There, a man waited patiently to train him. He was not accelerated in development. Short-term solutions lead to long-term failures. He was, instead, raised and educated from the beginning by both driods and that one man, he who would become his Master, and the Master of all who lived and breathed. We're going to run this galaxy, you and I. It will be such fun... Because of this, Tarak was able to develop as a normal member of his species, but isolated from his kind due to the fact that he was made exploiting the genetic throwback condition known as Retrograde Syndrome. He had been shown videos of others like him and how his kind reacted to him, and then told that though he was superior to them in every way, they would never accept his existence. His Master used this as the beginning tool to fuel his anger, and went on to state that he made him this way on purpose. Never give up a potential advantage, no matter how cruel it may be. Revel in your strength, your power. When none dare to challenge you, when the FEAR grips their hearts and minds forever, you are truly free.

Time went on, and you might think that his Master needed to oppress his student in order to retain his position, but no. As a great manipulator, that man decided that with the truth, Tarak would only anger and never feel betrayed, and if he were placated - with he playing the constant benefactor who knows all and understands his frustrations - he would himself never betray. And this worked. As teacher, his Master was harsh, but all that and more would be expected of him. He was only preparing himself for the worlds beyond. In time, Tarak grew in strength and fighting prowess, using the force by the greatest of battle instinct and being one with the tide that was his rage. He was ready, and that was when his Master told him of the Plan...

We are at a crossroads in the galaxy, Mr. Tarak. They out there have known fear and turmoil, misery and rage, chaos and strife... I have been preparing for this moment, and now it is here. What we shall do is this... All that is has been turned on its head by the Force. Once, there was balance, and then those fools with the Rule of Two made our side weaker, and so the Jedi overwhelmed the galaxy. But then, as luck would have it, their complacency caused their downfall, and we shall rise again. I have been in study, and in experimentation, waiting...watching... We will now bring this galaxy to its knees, remove the last errant traces of those with the Force, and then...push back with everything, so they are left reeling forever.

'When none dare to challenge you, you are truly free.' Those were his Master's words. He said that he would make this struggle for balance in the Force irrelevent, and he was the key. Sadly, it was not explained how, but his Master did say that it was possible with the right amount of study and research. Tarak was not his only experiment, just his most successful. Always, there was this feeling that something tremendous was in the works. He was given such indication, plenty of times, and assured that their power would be endless and overwhelming, and that the keys to this power had been developed over the course of many years and many battles, all of which the Master had witnessed with his own eyes. Tarak never quite got that part, as his Master seemed quite young. Nevertheless, he would do these things for his cause and see where they went. He had not done him a misdeed, but rather made him alive and real by his own hands. And while the feeling that he may be missing something that the man could not provide, there was no reason not to work to his benefit, to their benefit, for power and glory.

Supporting Characters: And now...

Darth Diabolus - Greetings. At last, we meet. I am the Master and the creator of Mr. Tarak, and it is I who have interjected within this file. After all, am I not a part of my greatest pupil, my dreaded apprentice? I ahould think so. I have a plan for this galaxy, for the future of all life on these worlds and out in space. As much as Jedi and Sith, warlords and revolutionaries, paupers and peacemakers have moved, I have been the shadow behind, the darkness beneath, the void beyond.... Long have I lived, though I share the face of human. In my time, I have always stirred things up, changed events towards the most violent outcomes. Now, as things are truly shaken up with the death of worlds and a fractured Empire, I will push things closer to the precipace, and the balance of all things will fall forever into darkness and chaos.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

CORELLIA

Corellia, the great shipyards...

Where in all the galaxy could you find a place like this? So much production and resources, and so much crime. The planet was more factory than any place to live, but if you wanted to work here, you needed to live here, and if you didn't work AND you lived here, then you did crime here. There was very little between, apart from the infrastructure to support the lives of so many engineers, software programmers, mechanics, scrappers, labor forces, and so on. You still needed suppliers for tools, food, living accommodations, maintenance for all these things, clean-up crews, etc. The list goes on, and this is the surface to maybe down to perhaps...the sewer levels. But...Corellia, like any planet with huge technological works built upon it, has layers. Your basements have sub-basements that were themselves simply basements, and below them maintenance areas and mining facilities for the abundant resources of the planet.

Somewhere, amidst all of these places, beyond the criminal hideouts and squatter holes, in forgotten stretches of ductwork and cut-off abandoned rooms...lies Singe. Wherever Singe goes, this is where she inevitably ends up, an obscure and hard-to-reach location that not even maintenance droids can find. And if they do, she will reprogram them to think and report otherwise, that there is nothing here, that nobody is there at the bottom of the world or in the walls or somewhere nestled between floors. It is the way she lives, and has done for a few years now. As a silvery-haired woman - a Sephi - it becomes easy for her to be a target for people who have less-than-savory plans for her. They were not thea threat. In her work as a Slicer, there could be any number of people who could want to put her out of business for good, owing to the losses incurred by her actions. They were not the threat. In her circles, plenty of violence could erupt at a moment's notice, leaving many dead in their wake from over-zealous actions. Even this was not the threat.

The Empire was the threat. Always the threat. Always...

All those other things, she accepted the responsibility for the dangers, lived her life on that understandable edge. There was never a problem in her life, living that way. The Imperials, though... They were a whole 'nother story, and Singe...she thought big. She thought of making life harder for them in underground ways. And for a while, it worked, but...they bit back, and it hurt...alot. They changed the game, and now she was here, like this, or on other planets in similar positions. She would never again let that happen, and she would make them pay. All of them pay, every last Imperial piece of shit. They must pay. There was nothing else, except these acts. And so, even from isolation, she would set about the tasks of others to break the Empire with her data manipulations and meticulous plans, paying for every step she herself could not take with their own money.

And with every deed done, she would laugh, she would cry, she would drink, and she would zone out on the network.

And then, she would start it all over again.

One day, however, something had changed. The Rebels, already emboldened by their past victories, smashed the center of power that the Empire held onto so dearly. Their ultimate weapon, destroyed. Their flagship, crashed and burned. Their Lord Vader, dead. Their Emperor, gone. They had broken the back of the Empire, and in the ensuing chaos caused it to splinter. There was much celebration throughout the galaxy, and even in her hole, Singe had drank happily and laughed at the miserable fate of those she hated the most. But...it wasn't over yet. Time passed, and her work continued, but with the Imperials as broken as they were, it was no longer quite so easy to push them into situations, to set them up for disaster. They no longer felt safe and secure, a fact which made her smile, but because of this, procedure was no longer followed, and things would have to change. Singe looked around her dark area with her right amber eye, scanning around the area bathed in dim light.

I'll have to get out there. I don't want to...but I have to kill them all. Every last one of them must pay for what they did to me...

Even she knew that this was a disproportionate response to the situation, but there was a deep and empty gulf where any joy once resided. Even on the reggedy edge, life use to be so much more for her, and now no longer. The stench of the Empire must be scrubbed from existence, like her personal dossier from computers. So, gathering her things, she contacted...well, he was friendly, but not what she called a friend. He was a Tynnan, and they were the most common sensical species in the galaxy. She caught him on hypernet, obviously noy local, but perhaps enough so for a quick pick-up.

"Goggles, you there?"

"Oh, hey! If it ain't my voice from the darkness! What's on the agenda for today, huh? A bit of spice smuggling with Imperial data wedged near my forcefield generator? Dropping off a load of mercenaries into a cantina to intercept some shore leavers?"

"I need transport."

"Sure, sure! How many? Or how much? And where to?"

"I don't know where. Somewhere closer to the hub of activity, underground or otherwise. As for who...just me."

"Whoa, hey. You mean, you wanna meet? I thought you didn't DO direct."

"I don't. Didn't. I- ...it's complicated. Things are changing. I have to move on. I need to think. I need to be able to without worrying about whether I'm a stowaway or not. Could you? I mean, can you?"

There was a pause, as she knew the furry little creature was weighing things in his mind. Tynnan were small water-mammal beings, not great fighters, per se. Goggles himself claimed to go on runs with people sometimes, with a Dug, of all things, but his people didn't take unnecessary risks, because it simply wasn't good sense. If you started a fight on his ship while in transit, he didn't fight you. He locked you in a room, turned off the dampeners and gravity control, then spun the ship around until you were beaten senseless by the ship itself. He was a smart little rodent.

"Am I gonna be in trouble 'cause I know your face?"

"No more than you would for working with me. The Empire's in tatters, but I need to pull on those strings until they unravel entirely. So, can you pick me up on Corellia? Maybe take me somewhere to plan my next move? I need to get a feel for the galaxy again, breathe some new air, stuff like that."

"I can do it. Just, you know, pay me properly."

"I always do. I'm already on my way to your usual pick-up spot. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

She was afraid, honestly afraid, but...she would still do it. She had to, until the job was done, and only then would she allow herself to rest... It was quite alot of crawling and slipping into places, unlocking doors and locking them again, sneaking through corridors whether they were disused or not, and for a while she was even on some sort of gang territory, though she couldn't care less. Singe was more capable than the riff-raff. Even before the incident, she could handle herself in a gun fight. Fact is, the first grunt of something even minorly aggressive, she took out her gun and fired at it. There was no time for niceties, right now. By the time she stepped out of an Employees Only area, ignoring the guard shouting at her to get out of the work area if she didn't belong there, she expected to see that freighter incoming at the designated landing pad.

The Crimson Fang was a decently-refurbished YT-1930 Corellian Freighter. It was like an old pet come home to master after a long journey. One of the few symetrical designs out of the lot, it apparently started out as a wreck that the Tynnan picked up at a low price and started doing jobs to...basically return to spaceworthyness. It had guns, decent hyperdrive, shields, ident-faking device, plenty of cargo and crawl spaces, and most of all...it was actually clean. It was also late. Singe felt uncomfortably exposed, and that wasn't because her shoulders were bare. She hadn't been out in a while, and although there weren't any obvious signs of bounty hunters incoming, the wait made her more and more paranoid as time went by. Finally...the cargo ship landed and the ramp dropped down, revealing the small brown-haired mammal that was Meyran Tufts, or Goggles, as he was called, because of the Occular Enhancer used to cope with his less-than-great eyesight. He stood there, light-repeating rifle in his hands, looking up at her, letting out a whistle between his buck teeth.

"No wonder you were in hiding."

"We can't all be small pudgey critters like you."

"Ain't that the truth. Might be more peaceful, though."

"Let's get going, alright?"

"No problem. Uhhh...maybe you wanna use the shower a bit?"

Singe blinked. The little guy had a sense of smell like you wouldn't believe.

"I...erm...yeah, thanks..."

They were on their way to Nar Shaddaa.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

@Ascendant Funny story: We've been discussing that. The current concensus is that our plotting will start out with people essentially at the head of their own personal tales (or collaborating as requested) until more and more interactions occur and events start to bring them all together for something much bigger. We've compared it to how the Marvel movies were handled, oddly enough.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

@Jarl Coolgruuf Yeah, that's what I meant, but the right term escaped me. Welcome aboard, though!

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

@Jarl Coolgruuf Might need to be refreshed.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

'Kay, cool, done it, joining discord soon, but basically chilling right now.