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- Old Guild Username: sartorous
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- Nib 7 yrs ago
- █████████ 11 yrs ago
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Most Recent Posts
Not too bad. Just busy with schoolwork. What about yourself? Also, thank you for the advertisement, Enalais.
Sounds good.
I'm sorry to hear that you're sick, Enalais.
No problem. Life comes first. This is a hobby, not life. Handle your problems and then return to us, Leos. Good luck.
Everyone alive out there?
Does life continue in Life Continues?
Oh. Alright. So he wasn't in employment to Arthur?
I edited my post so that Lucien is headed for the Huntsman. By the way, is the Huntsman a Gorgon Ranger, and would he and Lucien have any sort of history together?
Csilla, Krios Gerulin
Krios kept watch down the hall as Roze jumped up to the vent and began sliding the grate away. He saw the edge of the Dark Jedi’s robes come around the corner just as Roze hung down and offered her hand to him. Krios jumped up grabbed hold of his companion’s hand and pulled himself up to the vent above. Once they were both in the vent, Krios slid the grate back over the vent and watched the hallway below. The two Dark Jedi made their way right under the vent and continued on down the hall. That was too close for the young Drell’s tastes. The hallway were too open and left them too visible for the mission at hand.
“Roze, I think we should try and stay to the vents as much as possible. It’s too difficult to stay concealed from sight in the halls.”
Krios began making his way in the direction they had been walking in the hall below, crouched over and crawling. The vent stretched on for a while until it finally came to a fork leading off to the right and left. The young Drell peered down both directions before turning back toward Roze as much as he could in the cramped vent.
“Which way would you suggest going down?”
Drestin Fraen
The young Echani was shocked at the reply from the Sith. They had cocked their head and offered for the Jedi Padawan to enter their mind; an offer Drestin very foolishly accepted. He concentrated on what small sliver of the Force he could and focused it on the mind of his faceless sentry. He entered the sentry’s mind and was shown memories of training under a Sith, but then the memories shattered to reveal the truth of the Sith’s mind. Drestin stood as the children trained and then watched their parents killed before being drug off by another clan. Drestin felt everything the Sith had felt and saw everything he went through, all the hate and pain. The dark emotions and agony of the memories overwhelmed the young Jedi quickly, and broke something in his own mind. His own memories slipped into the Sith’s mind, showing his induction into the Jedi at a young age and being taken as Master Greon’s Padawan.
Drestin was able to pull himself back as his memories turned to the reason he was imprisoned, and he fell to the ground, clutching at the side of his face as he felt it burning despite the absence of any flame or heat. He roared in agony as the pain shot through his face, the same side the Sith’s face was burned on. The Padawan was stuck on that particular memory as he writhed across the floor of his cell. Finally, the pain subsided, and Drestin was able to hoist himself into a sitting position; he was covered in sweat and was breathing heavily. He barely made out the Sith’s mocking questions over his own breathing. All the young Echani was able to do was stare at the sentry through the splayed fingers still gripping at the spot he had felt burn.
Master Greon’s Cell
A Salarian clad in black, sweeping robes made her way down the hall, flanked by two other Dark Jedi. The trio stopped in front of the Turian’s cell. The Salarian sneered down at the Jedi Master meditating within the cell before nodding to the Dark Jedi on her left, who immediately pressed a button the console of the cell. The ray shielding lowered to permit the Dark Jedi entrance to the cell; the two Dark Jedi that had accompanied the Salarian now flanked the Turian as they pulled the Jedi to his feet and shoved him into the hall beyond, where the Salarian led the way back down the hall and to one of the many torture chambers found in the prison.
There, the Dark Jedi placed Master Greon on a platform that, once activated, enclosed rayshielding around his hands and feet and then suspended him above the ground a few feet. The Salarian Dark Jedi now turned to him with another sneer, this one much larger. With the Jedi Master suspended and restrained, the Salarian raised her hands and shot lightning from her fingertips. The blue bolts arched from the tips of her fingers to the body of the Jedi and sent surges of pain through his body in a number of directions simultaneously. All the while, the Dark Jedi cackled, her voice shrill and piercing.
Eriadu, Drau Flynn
The red blur that was the world to Flynn slowly moving to the edge of his vision until it finally disappeared altogether; his breathing slowed and the pain from the fight hit him all at once in a wave. Flynn hunched over slightly as his fellow rebel walked up to him and asked the status of his squad. The Krogan looked at the man for a moment, noting he was a clone. A defected clone in the Rebellion, and in a position of command no less. Flynn smirked at the idea.
“Two were shot down, the others are banged up, but we’re survivors. We’ll be fine. Just need a new supply of bacta gel to patch everyone up,” Flynn turned his head in the direction of his squad, who were walking among each other, lifting the dead and setting them on their speeders before hooking those speeders up to the back of living members’ bikes to haul them to a camp to give them a proper funeral. They deserved that after all they had been through in the war.
With a small shake of his head, Flynn pushed the thoughts away; he couldn’t allow himself to be overtaken by the loss of his squad. He had to continue on, keep fighting and honour their memory. What else could he do? Bring them back from the dead? Not even a Jedi or Sith Lord could do that sort of thing, not even with their magical powers of the Force. Flynn limped over to his speeder and sat down upon it to take the weight off of his injured leg, which the Rodian medic immediately began examining.
“Edon, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch my ass. Now let me apply more gel to it.”
“She takes her job very seriously… Sargean-? Captai-? I don’t know who you are, friend,” the Krogan said to the clone who had saved his squad.
Factory
The Republic forces continued their push as the rocket destroyed the Rebellion’s sniper advantage in a single stroke. The rubble had also served a double purpose in crushing the Rebel forces unlucky enough to be under it at the time. The Rebel side of the battlefield was now full of moans from the dying and injured. There were not enough medics to get around to every single patient, and the medics were the prime targets of the Republic troopers storming up the hill toward the factory. The medics that did survive were only able to do enough to make the dying more comfortable and to stabilize the injured with the small rations of bacta gel they had. The laser-based turrets positioned at the top of the hill helped keep the Republic forces at bay for a short time, but the gunners were taken out by sniper fire on the Republic side.
The Powersuits continued their brawls off to another side of the footsoldiers. The Rebellion’s primitive Powersuit was piloted well enough to hold its own despite its outdated weaponry and armour, but it was not invincible; this was proven when its pilot was unable to avoid the fire from one of the Titan Powersuits’ wrist-mounted gatling laser. The laser fire tore through the armour of the right arm, taking out the heat round gatling gun, but the armour was luckily thick enough to keep the laser bolts from tearing through the pilot.
The sounds of battle and death easily drifted into the factory from the freshly blown hole in the side of the building. In the center of the bottom room, tucked away behind barely sufficient ray shielding and gathered around a table were a small group of Rebel Commanders talking animatedly as a man with an obviously broken leg approached them at a slow limp. The group turned to look at the fallen sniper as he approached. One of them, an older Mirialan, recognized the man, and he was the first to speak.
“Brewer! What the hell are you doing!? You need to be looked at immediately.”
Space Over Vondarc, Admiral Xer Loa
Xer Loa watched the dark red wine swirl around in his glass as he listened to what Vallen had to say, interruption and all. The Kel Dor did not answer right away; in fact, he sat in silence for a few minutes as he thought the question over, occasionally taking a sip of the Kaleesh wine. For whatever reason, the Admiral’s thoughts drifted to the man currently on his way to the conference; Kalim, Xer Loa thought his name was, but he had never bothered to learn the name of Vallen’s pet. Xer Loa had never liked the man; he sacrificed so much of his squad and felt no remorse for it. This time around, he had almost lost his entire squad most likely due to the lack of formations and order in his lead. No doubt he would walk through the lift doors and enter the cabin with some sort of idiotic grin plastered across his face. As he noticed he was gripping his glass tighter than normal, the Kel Dor banished the man from his thoughts and instead turned them to something worthwhile.
He started down the path of answering the General’s questions. His mind drifted back in time to engagements he was personally involved in with the Rebels as well as to reports on planetary engagements with the rebels he had read. They had indeed been able to hold their own with the Republic despite having mostly heat round weaponry and older ships, but they also managed to get their hands on newer technology and better ships; one such being their flagship, which while being smaller than the Republic’s flagship, was said to be a spectacle to behold as it crashed through enemy lines quite literally. Xer Loa had come to conclusions of his own on these troubling matters on the Rebellion.
“Sir, I believe most of their supplies of new weapons and technology come from scavenging our dead they defeat in battle, but they must have a supply line as well as they continue getting this gear even though they have not won nearly enough engagements to get the amount of supplies they have. My only guess is that the worlds they control have not been taken against their will. As to how they are matching our strength, I think that comes from their suppliers and their conviction. People believe in their cause and are rallied by it. It’s no different than people being rallied by the Republic and fighting for our cause tooth and nail. The Rebellion just fight harder in some cases because their fighters believe themselves to be the ‘oppressed’ and are fighting for a newfound freedom. Those under Republic rule have been living free and don’t have to fight for it.”
Krios kept watch down the hall as Roze jumped up to the vent and began sliding the grate away. He saw the edge of the Dark Jedi’s robes come around the corner just as Roze hung down and offered her hand to him. Krios jumped up grabbed hold of his companion’s hand and pulled himself up to the vent above. Once they were both in the vent, Krios slid the grate back over the vent and watched the hallway below. The two Dark Jedi made their way right under the vent and continued on down the hall. That was too close for the young Drell’s tastes. The hallway were too open and left them too visible for the mission at hand.
“Roze, I think we should try and stay to the vents as much as possible. It’s too difficult to stay concealed from sight in the halls.”
Krios began making his way in the direction they had been walking in the hall below, crouched over and crawling. The vent stretched on for a while until it finally came to a fork leading off to the right and left. The young Drell peered down both directions before turning back toward Roze as much as he could in the cramped vent.
“Which way would you suggest going down?”
Drestin Fraen
The young Echani was shocked at the reply from the Sith. They had cocked their head and offered for the Jedi Padawan to enter their mind; an offer Drestin very foolishly accepted. He concentrated on what small sliver of the Force he could and focused it on the mind of his faceless sentry. He entered the sentry’s mind and was shown memories of training under a Sith, but then the memories shattered to reveal the truth of the Sith’s mind. Drestin stood as the children trained and then watched their parents killed before being drug off by another clan. Drestin felt everything the Sith had felt and saw everything he went through, all the hate and pain. The dark emotions and agony of the memories overwhelmed the young Jedi quickly, and broke something in his own mind. His own memories slipped into the Sith’s mind, showing his induction into the Jedi at a young age and being taken as Master Greon’s Padawan.
Drestin was able to pull himself back as his memories turned to the reason he was imprisoned, and he fell to the ground, clutching at the side of his face as he felt it burning despite the absence of any flame or heat. He roared in agony as the pain shot through his face, the same side the Sith’s face was burned on. The Padawan was stuck on that particular memory as he writhed across the floor of his cell. Finally, the pain subsided, and Drestin was able to hoist himself into a sitting position; he was covered in sweat and was breathing heavily. He barely made out the Sith’s mocking questions over his own breathing. All the young Echani was able to do was stare at the sentry through the splayed fingers still gripping at the spot he had felt burn.
Master Greon’s Cell
A Salarian clad in black, sweeping robes made her way down the hall, flanked by two other Dark Jedi. The trio stopped in front of the Turian’s cell. The Salarian sneered down at the Jedi Master meditating within the cell before nodding to the Dark Jedi on her left, who immediately pressed a button the console of the cell. The ray shielding lowered to permit the Dark Jedi entrance to the cell; the two Dark Jedi that had accompanied the Salarian now flanked the Turian as they pulled the Jedi to his feet and shoved him into the hall beyond, where the Salarian led the way back down the hall and to one of the many torture chambers found in the prison.
There, the Dark Jedi placed Master Greon on a platform that, once activated, enclosed rayshielding around his hands and feet and then suspended him above the ground a few feet. The Salarian Dark Jedi now turned to him with another sneer, this one much larger. With the Jedi Master suspended and restrained, the Salarian raised her hands and shot lightning from her fingertips. The blue bolts arched from the tips of her fingers to the body of the Jedi and sent surges of pain through his body in a number of directions simultaneously. All the while, the Dark Jedi cackled, her voice shrill and piercing.
Eriadu, Drau Flynn
The red blur that was the world to Flynn slowly moving to the edge of his vision until it finally disappeared altogether; his breathing slowed and the pain from the fight hit him all at once in a wave. Flynn hunched over slightly as his fellow rebel walked up to him and asked the status of his squad. The Krogan looked at the man for a moment, noting he was a clone. A defected clone in the Rebellion, and in a position of command no less. Flynn smirked at the idea.
“Two were shot down, the others are banged up, but we’re survivors. We’ll be fine. Just need a new supply of bacta gel to patch everyone up,” Flynn turned his head in the direction of his squad, who were walking among each other, lifting the dead and setting them on their speeders before hooking those speeders up to the back of living members’ bikes to haul them to a camp to give them a proper funeral. They deserved that after all they had been through in the war.
With a small shake of his head, Flynn pushed the thoughts away; he couldn’t allow himself to be overtaken by the loss of his squad. He had to continue on, keep fighting and honour their memory. What else could he do? Bring them back from the dead? Not even a Jedi or Sith Lord could do that sort of thing, not even with their magical powers of the Force. Flynn limped over to his speeder and sat down upon it to take the weight off of his injured leg, which the Rodian medic immediately began examining.
“Edon, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch my ass. Now let me apply more gel to it.”
“She takes her job very seriously… Sargean-? Captai-? I don’t know who you are, friend,” the Krogan said to the clone who had saved his squad.
Factory
The Republic forces continued their push as the rocket destroyed the Rebellion’s sniper advantage in a single stroke. The rubble had also served a double purpose in crushing the Rebel forces unlucky enough to be under it at the time. The Rebel side of the battlefield was now full of moans from the dying and injured. There were not enough medics to get around to every single patient, and the medics were the prime targets of the Republic troopers storming up the hill toward the factory. The medics that did survive were only able to do enough to make the dying more comfortable and to stabilize the injured with the small rations of bacta gel they had. The laser-based turrets positioned at the top of the hill helped keep the Republic forces at bay for a short time, but the gunners were taken out by sniper fire on the Republic side.
The Powersuits continued their brawls off to another side of the footsoldiers. The Rebellion’s primitive Powersuit was piloted well enough to hold its own despite its outdated weaponry and armour, but it was not invincible; this was proven when its pilot was unable to avoid the fire from one of the Titan Powersuits’ wrist-mounted gatling laser. The laser fire tore through the armour of the right arm, taking out the heat round gatling gun, but the armour was luckily thick enough to keep the laser bolts from tearing through the pilot.
The sounds of battle and death easily drifted into the factory from the freshly blown hole in the side of the building. In the center of the bottom room, tucked away behind barely sufficient ray shielding and gathered around a table were a small group of Rebel Commanders talking animatedly as a man with an obviously broken leg approached them at a slow limp. The group turned to look at the fallen sniper as he approached. One of them, an older Mirialan, recognized the man, and he was the first to speak.
“Brewer! What the hell are you doing!? You need to be looked at immediately.”
Space Over Vondarc, Admiral Xer Loa
Xer Loa watched the dark red wine swirl around in his glass as he listened to what Vallen had to say, interruption and all. The Kel Dor did not answer right away; in fact, he sat in silence for a few minutes as he thought the question over, occasionally taking a sip of the Kaleesh wine. For whatever reason, the Admiral’s thoughts drifted to the man currently on his way to the conference; Kalim, Xer Loa thought his name was, but he had never bothered to learn the name of Vallen’s pet. Xer Loa had never liked the man; he sacrificed so much of his squad and felt no remorse for it. This time around, he had almost lost his entire squad most likely due to the lack of formations and order in his lead. No doubt he would walk through the lift doors and enter the cabin with some sort of idiotic grin plastered across his face. As he noticed he was gripping his glass tighter than normal, the Kel Dor banished the man from his thoughts and instead turned them to something worthwhile.
He started down the path of answering the General’s questions. His mind drifted back in time to engagements he was personally involved in with the Rebels as well as to reports on planetary engagements with the rebels he had read. They had indeed been able to hold their own with the Republic despite having mostly heat round weaponry and older ships, but they also managed to get their hands on newer technology and better ships; one such being their flagship, which while being smaller than the Republic’s flagship, was said to be a spectacle to behold as it crashed through enemy lines quite literally. Xer Loa had come to conclusions of his own on these troubling matters on the Rebellion.
“Sir, I believe most of their supplies of new weapons and technology come from scavenging our dead they defeat in battle, but they must have a supply line as well as they continue getting this gear even though they have not won nearly enough engagements to get the amount of supplies they have. My only guess is that the worlds they control have not been taken against their will. As to how they are matching our strength, I think that comes from their suppliers and their conviction. People believe in their cause and are rallied by it. It’s no different than people being rallied by the Republic and fighting for our cause tooth and nail. The Rebellion just fight harder in some cases because their fighters believe themselves to be the ‘oppressed’ and are fighting for a newfound freedom. Those under Republic rule have been living free and don’t have to fight for it.”
I had left my post open for Itzli to tell Lucien off, but should I edit it to have Lucien engage the Gorgon forces since Tali hasn't replied to my post yet, or do you already have Lucien's part of the IC written up, Brand?
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