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Author	Topic: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith
HanSolo29 Title: Fan Art Manager Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 7/22 11:56pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith
	OOC: Congrats, Pash, for winning best GM! Well deserved! IC: Han Solo Streets, Senate District, Coruscant The last rays of Coruscant's sun were just dipping behind the tallest skyscrapers of the sprawling cityscape, casting long shadows throughout the vast canyons carved out out by the towering structures, as Han Solo emerged bleary eyed from the Soft Landings Inn, which was nestled in a slum neighborhood on the outskirts of the Senate District. Despite the building facing the brilliant glow of the Senate Dome and the extravagant 500 Republica complex, the Inn itself was nothing special to look at. Most of its amenities were cobbled together from salvaged materials and it had no trouble fitting the part. The whole exterior of the building was patched with durasteel sheets placed haphazardly across the surface and conductor pipes wrapped around the structure like snakes coiling around their prey. It was hard to tell if they were there simply for decoration or if they had some sort of real purpose, but judging by the way the whole foundation sunk in on the right side, Han figured they were there to prevent the place from simply collapsing in on itself. It wasn't a place he would normally choose to stay the night or even a few days in his case, but they offered one redeeming feature that he couldn't pass up. Security was extremely lax at the Inn and in many cases, non-existent. The owners didn't put much into the place and they certainly didn't intend to get much back. As a result of this mentality, they didn't really care who passed through their doors, as long as you had the credits. No background checks, no extra fees, and of course, no questions asked. It was a simple operation and it allowed Han to lay low until he was able to establish himself with some real work. But finding work...that would be a challenge in itself. He was young, inexperienced and the only thing he had going for him was his luck and possibly his passion for flying. There weren't many business owners, especially on Coruscant, willing to hire someone with that track record. In order to secure a position, he would need to tread carefully, keep his eyes open and hope for the best. Something would come along, but for now, all that mattered was food. He hadn't eaten since early this morning and by this time, his famished stomach wouldn't stay quiet. Sure, he was quite capable of preparing his own meal and staying in the room by himself for the night, but he had an itch to explore. The city was calling to him and so, he found himself out on the streets once more. Stepping off the curb and into the flow of pedestrian traffic, Han idly pulled a cred card from the breast pocket of his jacket and began twirling it over in his grip. It was the same card Vos had given him in the message back on the Stellarus and so far, it had done him a lot of good in providing him with a place to stay. But even with its quirks, something about its sleek surface bothered him. Vos had mentioned that it was hooked to a bank account in his name, but as the young man studied it now, he noticed that it was blank and no identifying features could be found. Had he been lied to? Where was it drawing funds from? The banks had been closed by the time he had left the Stellarus and he'd been unable to check on the matter personally, but he had made a mental note to do it later. But somewhere between then and getting himself a place to stay for the night, he had opted to use it anyway. That might not have been the best thing to do in the grand scheme of things, but what was the harm? It had worked, right? He would just grab one more bite to eat and that would be the end of it until he could get it properly examined. With a sigh, Han slid the card back into his pocket and with a final tap to keep it secure, paused on a street corner with a wide array of other beings waiting for public transit. Many of them were human and didn't seem to mind his presence there among them, but others who belonged to a species Han had never seen before, turned and studied him with dangerous eyes. He offered an apologetic smile to the closest being, a green-skinned humanoid with no nose, and shrugged his shoulders to express his innocence before backing away to lean against a trash receptacle. The alien curled its upper lip into a snarl at the action, no doubt a silent warning to the young man to watch himself, and finally turned away to focus its attention elsewhere. Han licked his dry lips and stared at the back of the alien's head, transfixed by the light and shadow dancing across its bald dome from advertisements mounted on an adjacent building. The light show only heightened the air of mystery and danger that hung about this particular being and for the first time since running out on Vos, he felt insecure about himself and uncomfortable with his surroundings. He was alone and had no one to run to in case everything came crashing down around him. One wrong step and he'd be back where he started - a lonely street bum with no money and no life. Snapping his eyes shut, he clenched his fists at his sides and turned away from the green-skinned alien, only daring to reopen his eyes when he was certain he was facing a new path. And sure enough, he was. Among the diverse group of beings, Han spotted a family of three huddled together at the back of the crowd. The woman had dark, flowing hair with sad eyes and she held her husband close with one arm. Her other arm dangled freely at her side, her hand resting securely on the shoulder of a small child. And it was that very child that had drawn his attention to them in the first place. Small with delicate features, the girl had an almost angelic appearance with her silky dark hair and soft gaze. She held herself with an air of authority that seemed out of place for one so young. Han had to do a double take to reassure himself that he wasn't seeing another ghost from his recent past. Subconsciously, he reached into the knapsack slung over his shoulder and retrieved a small model of a starfighter. He held it up to the light and studied it intently, amazed that someone so young had crafted such a magnificent model. It was perfect and in many ways, so was its creator, Sophia. Although he didn't like to admit it, he was actually starting to miss the little squirt. "What'cha got there, boy?" a deep, gruff voice issued from behind him, breaking into this thoughts. "Playing with toys again?" The breath caught in Han's throat and he froze in place, the sound of that voice all too familiar to him. It was a voice from his past, a voice of authority and one that managed to rattle him to the core. It elicited a fear inside of him unlike anything he had experienced before. He was too frightened to speak and he simply stood there, not wanting to turn around and face the reality that the man he had grown up to hate had returned for him. Sensing his hesitation, the man continued his speech. "Come now, Han, ain't ya a little too old for that?" he drawled mockingly, reaching forward to pluck the model out of his grip. "I gotta admit, though, you're turning into quite the lady's killer." He unleashed a boisterous laugh from the pit of his stomach. That laugh, combined with the fact that he had stolen Sophia's model, was enough to suppress his fear and in turn, he was able to use it to fuel his anger. Clenching his teeth, Han started to swing around to confront the monster but he was stopped short as something cold and metallic was pressed roughly into his ribcage. "That's enough, boy," his voice had turned from mocking to dead serious. He was now close enough that Han could feel his breath on his neck. "You don't leave an easy path to follow, you know that? Tracking you down wasn't easy, but now that I have ya, I need you to cooperate. You do that for me and nobody gets hurt. And don't you get any funny ideas either. I ain't afraid to pull this trigger, you got me, boy?" Han's heart was pounding in his chest as he stood frozen in place, sweat now dripping down into his eyes despite the coolness of the air around him. This couldn't be happening. How could he have been so stupid as to allow this monster to track him down? His mind was racing, trying to form some sort of plan as to how to outsmart the former bounty hunter, but everything fell short. He was out of ideas and for once, Garris Shrike managed to get the upper hand. Wincing against the blaster shoved up against his ribs, Han took a deep breath and finally lifted his chin to gaze upon his former guardian. The man standing threateningly next to him appeared shorter than he last remembered, but he mused that was partly due to the fact that Han himself had grown. He was now taller than the other man and as he stood looking down into his face, it gave him a small wave of confidence. His dark hair, now mottled with patches of gray, was as straight and greasy as ever and his blue eyes still held the same unforgiving gaze. Other than his waistline being a little wider, this was the same Garris Shrike he remembered from all those years ago. "What do you want, Garris?" Han demanded coldly, finally finding his voice. The former bounty hunter sneered. "Oh, it's 'Garris' now, huh?" He chuckled a bit, placing the starfighter model into the inner flap of his coat. "I guess now you're my equal." The jovial mood vanished and he jabbed the blaster further into Han's flesh. "You're wrong, boy. It'll never be that way, but I may have something you might be interested in. Something to get ya...a little closer." Han narrowed his eyes, now honestly curious as to what the man was up to. "Whaddya talking about?" Shrike simply smiled. "Walk." TAG: To be continued... -----signature----- "One little spark of inspiration is at the heart of all creation." "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." Romans 10:13 One of Hammer's Angels Fly casual
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TheAdmiral Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 7/23 1:36pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith
	OOC:Excuse my absence once again, and please excuse the low quality of this post IC: ARC Commander Alpha, Hotshot (NPC), Lord Admiral James Xavier (NPC), various other NPCs on-board VenSD "Roadblock" Alpha's consciousness was slowly returning. He could hear distant sounds, some of which seemed like voices, through his eyelids a faint light passed. Slowly memories were returning, random thoughts raced around his mind. Finally the Clone's eyes opened, at first everything was blurred then his vision cleared. Nevertheless the confusion remained, he was disoriented, he could see a large sterilized room with a lot of beds, some of which were occupied, some droids hurried around. Suddenly Alpha realized that he was not alone, there was someone standing beside his bed. -Where...am I?-his voice weak, his mouth dry and could still feel the metallic taste of blood. -Don't worry Commander, you are safe now. We're back on-board "Roadblock", you are in its medbay.-the reply came from a female voice. Alpha turned his head to follow its source, it was a girl still wearing a snowtrooper armor. At first it was hard for him to connect a name to the face. But the shortly cut black hair served as a reminder - Bessany. -What are...you doing here, private? Go...get some sleep...you look as you've been fighting a nexu... She chuckled softly at the comment, but this didn't cover the fact that her face was pale with black circles around her eyes and small drops of tears in them. She was still grieving for her now dead sister. Her attitude was unacceptable, but Alpha was helpless. -You don't look good either...sir. Alpha tried to stand up but as he tried to move his arms an immense wave of pain passed through his right shoulder. He gasped and fell back on the bed. It creaked from his weight. -Woah, woah, Commander you should be more careful, your shoulder was broken and you lost a lot of blood. I'll call the doctor to give you more details. Anyway he wanted to speak with you about something. Bessany turned to go to Rufus' office, she had disobeyed Lieutenant Fisk's orders to go and get some sleep but...somehow she cared for the Commander. He had bravely led them in this fight...if only her sister was still alive. Bes tried to stop herself from crying again. Maybe the young Lt. was right...she indeed needed some rest, but the doctor first... Alpha remained silent as he watched the girl go. She was a mystery for him, this sudden interest in him made him nervous. If only Dennii was there, this would have made things easier. This reminded him of something that he'll have to discuss with Vader... ***** For some time Colonel Agathon was explaining how he courageously took over the capitol city. How tough it was, how the enemy had gotten them pinned down, but thank to his superior intelligence he prevailed over this powerful but not as bright as him enemy. Hotshot barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance, this man was blinded by his own pride, he might be an expert in his field of work...but his egocentric way of thinking left everyone outside only he remained. Fisk was wondering how this man managed to survive this far to become a Colonel and even win a serious battle. Maybe he was underestimating the man. He would be keeping an eye on him for sure... Fisk was not sure whether his annoyance was visible on his face or not, well he didn't care much about it anyway. After a moment he realized that the Colonel and the Captain were staring at him patiently, it was his turn. -Oh...-be scratched the back of his head and almost drop his helmet that he was holding under his left arm-...Sorry...um...-he ignored the irony on Agathon's face-Well, I...at this moment I don't have the exact number of casualties, wounded and destroyed equipment, I will send you a more detailed report about Beta Attack Force. I will say this briefly that the CIS was very well prepared for the attack and my Attack Force was ambushed twice while we tried to reach the mining complex to assist Commander Alpha. The KIG had already destroyed the communications array. We assisted Commander Alpha in clearing the remaining forces in the mining complex where he was wounded while fighting a MagnaGuard. Sergeant Isk also was of a great assistance to us...There is this issue with this Corporal Jekk, I got him arrested because he tried to execute a civilian worker only because he was non-human... Fisk waited for the Captain to react...His mind was in turmoil, he knew that he had failed miserably to make a report that actually made sense. His sentences were uncoordinated and had no connection between themselves. The young man hoped that Captain would be lenient and won't pay much attention to this... ***** An Ensign came to relay the captain's reply to his request. The Lord Admiral just nodded and turned his head to watch the two soldiers clearly reporting to Vectis. The younger one was still wearing his armor, clearly it was one used for snow planets. The survival gear was visible. The older one was in an officer's uniform, judging by his look he seemed competent enough and quite aware of that...which made him look arrogant. His report was slightly longer than the younger man's. James could see the tiredness on Vectis's face...duty rarely calls us when we are ready... He then turned to the Ensign to give his reply. -I will have to call Union first for instructions, so for now I'm coming with you to Coruscant. TAG:Jerjerrod-Lennox -----signature----- Proud member of the Clonetrooper Fanclub/Stormtrooper Fanclub Grand Admiral in The SWC Empire Proud player in the best rpg series on the boards - The Galaxy at War http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/30532100/p1/?0 My first fan fic
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pashatemur Registered: Jun '04	Date Posted: 7/25 5:29am Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:02pm (2 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/The_Saga/b10476/17959370/p1 The Flower of Bast: personal journals of LDV ~\| Acroama, LD, SDO\|~ o[]\|\|]ooooooooo[0]\|\|[]{ "It's a sin to kill a Mockingbird!"
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SithStarSlayer Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 7/25 3:52pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:03pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	. -----signature----- Lucas didn't ruin my childhood but he sure wrecked Vader's ^^Foolish men mistake transitory semblance 4 eternal fact^^ o[]\|\|]ooooooooo[0]\|\|[]{ Gal: 5:19-21 Philippians 2:9-11
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MASTER-OF-EVIL Registered: Nov '04	Date Posted: 7/25 6:20pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:02pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	OOC: This is a joint-post with TMM. . MOE IC: Princess Ysera Alexstrasza - Ariel The Last Oracle of Rakata - Professor Xim Traza - Princess Laura of Hapes - Master Chef Diablo - Apprentice Chef Yuri(NPC) Gripsholme -> Mavras Maelstrom Royal Kitchens.... Doncasta had shown himself out after bowing to the Reina and nodded to the tall, broad shouldered man. He wouldn't be too bad in a fight from Doncasta's estimation. He can hold his own. With that the Master Chef, left the two to their own business as he made his way out of the corridor that lead him here in the first place and back down the long flight of stairs that was leading from the open corridor with the heavens still releasing a downpour of rain. Shortly after, he pushed one of the double doors to the kitchens as everyone were preparing food for the evening course and the Ursean young chef Yuri presented himself to the Master Chef with a bow. "Welcome back, Master Chef. How goes the meeting with Her Majesty?" He asked as Diablo gave the young man a reassuring smile as he placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "It was productive." He simply said as he gazed to each cook in the Kitchen. "I know my time here has been brief but I shall return here as I'm to journey with her Majesty the Empress back to Kavala as I have duties there too to attend. I have written out for you the new weekly menu for you to use as a template and with it as you build more, add to it, shape it like you would with dough and passion and your love for food." Diablo said in his reverence with his strong accent shining through. His deep brown eyes returning to the younger Chef Yuri. "I will leave you to your own charge until I settle matters abroad," He paused momentarily and slowly smiled to the Under Chef, "and I won't be going alone." He let it sink in for the young Chef. Wonder filled the young Ursean and slowly swallowing the offer. "Of...of course sir! Thank you it would be an honour to serve you on the voyage and learn under you sir." He said filled with nerves, excitement. "I don't prefer the term under, more like with me Yuri. Okay, well enough of that, everyone has their jobs to do and your job is to serve the Royal Family of Ursa and of Gripsholme the best food your hearts and mind can produce." He gave them a wave to resume their duties. "If you have family or friends you want to let them know of your trip, Yuri. And once your done, meet me at the shuttle to Mavras Maelstrom. Force speed Yuri." He gave him a pat on the back to let him go and make his preparations, which left Doncasta to return to his office at the back of the Kitchen as he pushed the door open as he walked around his desk. He clicked a few commands on his keypad and wanted to check on the latest from Coruscant before he left Gripsholme. After a few moments of waiting an image blurred to life before him as he took his seat and sat down. "Doncasta? Is that you? It is you! So god to see you again, Don." It was Krystal in her usual non-breather moment as she looked exhausted. "Krystal, how goes with Hell's Kitchen?" He simply asked her. "Umm its well, just been hectic with all the helping with the survivors of the attacks. I just a few moments ago just returned from the Senate Medcenter, its real messy but we are coping well enough sir. Kay is still back at the Meddcenter helping out and also clear the lingering masses with the Senate Guards, they are coordinating still and most likely for the next day or so so they can start clearing the rubble and damage to the building." The ravenous but flustered Master Chef explained as she rubbed her eyes from exhaustion. With concern, Doncasta leaned closer with both elbows propped on top the desk with hands interlocked into one another. "Krys, you should let someone take over, you look you need the rest." He suggested to her. She shook her head. "No, I can handle it sir. I'll rest once our task is done in providing the people who need us the most and get them through the night and then I promise i will get rest as soon as we feel that we have reached a semblance for the community, sir." She said with a tired looking smile. Don nodded in admiration of the Master Chef and smiled. "I'll leave you to it then, Krys. And also I'll be returning back to Coruscant soon but I'll be making a pit-stop along with the Reina back to Kavala to check on things there before heading to Coruscant." He said to her as he slowly leaned back into his chair. "Oh that's great sir! I look forward for your return sir. You have been greatly missed here a lot. Well, I gotta finish off somethings here, so I'll leave you to it Don. I'll see you soon then." She smiled and waved him as she logged off from the transmission. Don was left shaking his head in wonder on how Krystal's attitude had greatly matured in the short time he since last spoke to her. "Life is indeed full of surprises." He said in retrospect. ******** "Mother can you tell me more about Kavala, I want to know more about your home." Ariel said as she couldn't stop admiring her own dress of the thickly embroidered cocktail of colours of white heavy satin of the corseted gown with orange and violet thread. Professor Traza softly added to the young Oracle. "Well Ariel, surprise Ysera of what you know thus far." The wispy haired Professor gave her a warm wink as he gave his protégé a side-on glance with a cheeky grin. Ysera turned her viridian-hue gaze to her daughter. Ariel's gaze was in-between her mother and her teacher. "Oh okay. Well...let's see," She began to recall her lessons during the quiet times they had in their long journey in the Unknown. "The Ursean system is governed as a social democracy with a monarchy, a constitutional monarchy. The Reina is also the Matriarch, the head of state of the religion of the Ka-va-la-nic!" She pronounced it proper before them with a beaming smile. Ysera and the Professor shared a proud "paternal" moment as they made eye contact for a moment with each other. "And what is the ancient oral and written tradition of the Kavalanic, kiddo?" Ysera questioned her. "The Kavalad is the ancient verbal and literary of the Ka-vala-nic." She recited her studies in her mind. "And also the religion is very symbolic, philosophical, very evolving and prescriptive in its essence too." She added as her knowledge was flowing with ease to her now of those lessons with the Professor. The Princess of Hapes also joined in as she moved closer beside Alexstrasza as she crossed her legs within her simple flowing lavender gown as her sea-breeze blue gaze looked to Ariel. "What is the symbol of Ursa, Jasmine." Using Ariel's codename that she picked out for herself all those years before they began their journey. "Umm...The bear is symbolic of a “mother” spirit, an anthropomorphized facet of the Living Force, which is a protector of the souls, of innocence and thus unconditional love and trust. The bear has a dual nature though, and will also become a wrathful creature when provoked." She concentrated a bit harder on this next part she remembered vividly of the notes she had written down from the Professor's lessons. "The white bear is sacred and is in the myth of the Kavalanic, the terrestrial embodiment of the Moon Goddess, or the other half of dark. She walks as light in darkness and thus has this dual nature about her." She concluded the Princess of Hapes's question. They all applauded and she gave them a curtsied bow. Ysera noticed the shuttle was slow on approach she could feel, she looked upon her left shoulder and her peregrine Falcon, Lotus was standing observant as she used her forefinger to rub his neck back and forth. Her mind slightly drifted to each location that each of the ancient Capstones 'slept' and with each of those ancient structures were ancient puzzles of text that linked to one another and as looking upon Lotus's gaze as if he was understanding what Ysera was thinking. Ahnak’ahnin ‘arri For him who has completed the journey, for him who is beyond sorrow, for him who from everything is wholly free, for him who has destroyed all Ties, bitterness of failure, loss, and grief, who has loosed himself burned free of all, the fever of illusory passions exists not. He who has awareness applies himself. To no abode of soul or hearth are they attached. On wing they rise from the grasslands, eschewing the nest each time; the repercussive waves vanish. They for whom there is no accretion of should or want, who reflects well over their sustenance, who has the Power of Freedom, which is an empty glass and a vast still well, as their object - their course like that of birds in flight is seeming untraceable. That was the first verse of the translated text that Ariel had deciphered from the ancient language of the Ursean and Rakatan. Lotus stretched out his wings which had Ysera dodging her head behind the Falcon's wing and gave Lotus a narrow look to the bird, in turn responded with a soft squawk. "We have arrived," The Professor's voice reverted Ysera's gaze away from the Falcon back to her companions and nodded for them to begin disembark. Tag: Celeste and her entourage -----signature----- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pCaOcv6OOQ Best New Star Wars RPG Winner Summer 2007 - War of the Sith Part IV: The Invasion of the Cha'ala
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pashatemur Registered: Jun '04	Date Posted: 7/25 6:22pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 7/25 6:47pm (2 edits total) Edited By: pashatemur
	OOC: I wish to thank Corellian_Outrider for assisting with writing Julien Leitman and K_D for his helpful advice and time. Thank you both. IC: Lord Admiral Julien Leitman and the Reina Marie-Celeste LOCATION: Ursa from Gripsholme to Kavala aboard the Mavras Maelstrom "Lord Admiral, Minn 'arri, I am contacting you on a delicate matter, and trust you will appreciate my using an Ursean frequency, Sir," said the pale and flickering image of the white haired Admiral Colton as he spoke from his private cabinet in the Ursean Embassy to the leader of the USF en route to Kavala. The small wood paneled room where Julien had retired, his excuses made to the Reina and the Prime Minister, Lord Neuewald, was still and the registers of the ventilation system gave a low hum in the back ground as Julien returned to Kavala aboard the Royal Yacht the Mavras Maestrom. The ship had been a small prototype of the Vitt line of destroyers designed by the Re and the titular flagship, the Vitt Utharde followed with the rest of its accompanying compliment. Having closed the door behind him, the Lord Admiral had earlier attended the Reina, now , as it seemed, Empress, and was prepared to discuss the matter of the Re's ascension in political terms. The holo image quality was rather erratic but the distance from Ursa to Coruscant was great. Julien put his right hand at the hollow of his back and nodded to the elder officer. "I understand, Admiral. Your discretion is appreciated. Continue as you need, Sir." "I will be brief, then. The Re's condition is .... acute, as I understand it. Measures are being taken now, which... I have no better way to say it, seem to be experimental. If they are not successful, the Re will be severely compromised. I felt the Reina should know... and in conveying this... Julien, I am taking my own initiative...The Ledaren felt it would ... distrurb her Majesty... Yet, the matter is one of political import, she must be prepared," said Colten, clearly uncomfortable with his action and with the situation there at the Embassy. "I'd have commed sooner, but they have only just started lifting the shields here," the elder man said to his Commander. Julien pursed his lips for a moment. He knew Colton did not wish to linger long, or give anyone who might have passed the security measures to garner much in details. “Speak…Freely,” said Leitman giving Colton the signal to convey the rest in code. Julien would have to translate. Colton relayed as much as he had gleaned as well as his own kavalanic misgivings and including the progress on Imperial Center in quelling the government and citizenry. Julien wrote notes, his head bowed as he jotted down his thoughts and then looked up to reply when the Admiral indicated he was finished. Things were grave, yet, promising. Leitman himself had much to relay and when he was done he reassured the Admiral that he would soon be back in touch and the signal ended, he rose thoughtfully and straightened his grey coat before exiting the small study to stand within the parlor of the stateroom. The Reina sat alone awaiting him, apparently having dismissed Lady Osca and her undersecretary, the Prime Minister gone and family members elsewhere occupied on the brief trip to the capital planet of Ursa, Kavala. He could see the slight movement she made, though her hands and body were obscured behind her piano. The small jewels which hung from her earlobes glinted as they swayed. Although he had entered with as calm a gaze as he could muster, his smile cordial and light, she must know his news did not betoken ease and he exhaled, his shoulders lowered. “Majesty…” he said, and bowed. Her brown eyes did not leave him but only blinked as she remained quiet and watched him step across the thick carpet to stand in the crook of the case instrument. “The Re’s condition is critical, but, there are remedies,” he added quickly, before the first clause had time to give full rise to anxiety. The Reina looked down for a moment, or perhaps she closed her eyes, “Continue, please,” she commanded in a whisper. He only just became aware that she had been playing softly, when the music stopped abruptly. Julien explained the particulars, the dead tissue, the radiation and solidified shards of magma, the possibility of a some sort of further prosthetic to assist in respiration and then he explained the options and the path taken as succinctly as he could. Marie-Celeste sat quietly all the while. "There are methods that are presented which could treat The Re's condition." His tone implied that there was something more. "Due to the experimental nature of some, there is a risk of undesired and unintended effects." He shifted, feeling uncomfortable bearing such news. Her finger curled at the edge of the long white keys. She remained silent, still looking down. "It was recommended you be apprised now of how the situation is developing." He didn't add the sentiment 'better now than later in case things went wrong' as the Ledaren would have wanted. "I... see," she said in obvious distress, though she remained still. The low light glinted on her cheek. He didn't like being the bearer of grave news, although there was still hope, the nature of such hope was questionable. In what state would the Re be and how would he be compromised if the remedy did not work as planned? He wished he had some answers to those unasked questions, something more optimistic to lift the mood. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and stood slowly. He didn't like seeing the Reina like this nor cause any more discomfort. Thinking of his own family lost, how Katrina waited for him to return from maneuvers. How lonely and anxious she had described her nights while he was away during his tours of duty. He lowered his eyes to the carpet for a second, not wanting the Reina to feel his own discomfort. "I will keep you informed as soon as anything more is sent. Yet, Colton reports that Imperial Center is quiet for now. This is good news!" Leitman glanced back up again and then bowed his head. The calmer Coruscant, the sooner their Majesties might be reunited. "Turn the Mavras to Coruscant," whispered Celeste, knotting her hands in her worn pink woolen stole. It was impetuous, spoken as if she wished it to be a secret, but it could not be. There was left in Ursa, a Reina, a change of course would be tracked, would have to be tracked and indeed reported if it were not to cause an uproar and both at home and abroad. Leitman remained silent as he regarded his sovereign, to let her consider her command and when she did not speak, he did. "It shall be done as you think best, Your Majesty." He nodded in understanding and removed his com. Ready to key in to inform the helm of the change of direction and knowing he would have to advise against it. The Reina did not need a lecture; he knew she understood political touchstone her entry onto Imperial Center would be, stirring those who might seek to take control of the Empire to action when control had not been firmly established. "We won't arrive for several hours... they won't be expecting me. Belay that order... no..." said Celeste distraught and apologetic gesturing to the Lord Admiral and turning around to place a balancing hand on a small table. "I cannot think..." she murmured in frustration. "Would you ring some ... I think I ... should " she said, her voice trailing off caught in the dilemma between following the desire of her heart and the politically aware command of her husband. Leitman waited. He would offer his advice, if needed, but he saw before him a wife and mother, as well as his sovereign. He would allow her the private flight of love and let her reign in her duty. He stepped forward after several minutes passed. "Are you alright milady?" "No.... no...." she said softly, turning her face away. But she stood nonetheless and nodded. “We... go to Kavala. I'll await word..." she said tearfully. Reaching into his coat pocket he offered her the one thing he could presume to do, a small plain square of linen. She did not look at him but reached her slender hand to take the small token and smiled, eyes bright. Whatever was happening in Coruscant, was already in motion. "I will ... pray..." she said gesturing that he should leave her. "Majesty." Leitman politely bowed, and stepped back. As he left the study, he refused the temptation to look back. Feeling Admiral Leitman leave, Celeste stepped to the portal she felt facing Coruscant and slowly sat upon the floor to rest her head on the low window seat and catching a blue velvet pillow from the ledge, slowly dragged it to her face to muffle her cries. Gently rocking she calmed herself. Of course she could not afford to indulge herself in the useless emotion, but finding she remembered in the quiet, the motion of waves, a memory brought calm and a smile… “Come in… Come into the … vatten…” She recognized that loneliness; a tall dark figure standing on the strand. The wind buffeted his cloak and he stubbornly refused the invitation to dip into the nurturing water. Struggling made one remote, turned one inward and he deserved the peace the dying garlands of war could never bring! “Come… come into the water…Min älska, min man , min Vår ‘arri … träda in vatten och ge slipp...Anakin,om JAG måste, Jag vill ge slipp...äsch behaga. min älska,” she whispered as the Mavras Maelstrom slipped through hyperspace, entering the micro jump to Kavala from Gripsholme far out upon the Hydian way… TAG: open… -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/The_Saga/b10476/17959370/p1 The Flower of Bast: personal journals of LDV ~\| Acroama, LD, SDO\|~ o[]\|\|]ooooooooo[0]\|\|[]{ "It's a sin to kill a Mockingbird!"
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Corellian_Outrider Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 7/25 8:40pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:06pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	~OOC~ Special thanks goes out to Pashatemur. These series of posts have and continue to be an absolute pleasure to work on. Thank you for this experience! ~IC~ Ahsoka Tano Location: Ursean Embassy Half ecstatic to see him again and half distraught at his condition, his visage filled her "vision". The frailty aside, only those deep dark enigmatic pools of blue remained and disarmed. ‘The way he looked at me. The way...' Ahsoka couldn't shake the image from her mind and it dawned on her that she had kept that image before her for quite some time – the intense gaze from beneath those dark brows! Maybe she saw reflected there, what she wanted, but the confrontation after so long shutting her mind, so long laying dormant inside, left her weak and she felt her stomach growl more insistently now. Eyes wide, as she was shown her sumptuous room, Ahsoka stammered her request and asked if she could have something brought up for her to eat while she settled. She remembered to smile and say thank you as the door was closed behind her. The lights of the megalopolis shimmered in the falling rain with a flickering brilliance and drew her to one of three floor to ceiling windows that gave her a panorama to which she might gaze. She loved the sound of the rain which she could discern softly pelting the windows and muffling the harsh unceasing stream of motors, exhaust and ventilation systems, and far off factories thrumming in the distance. Her room was far better than any place she had stayed in over the years, she thought as she glanced back over her shoulder to the large room, though quite cozy compared to the vast room the floor below where she knew Anakin lay. The bed was an embarrassment of comfort by Jedi standards, plush and large enough to sleep a family of humans, she thought with a slight giggle. She should feel thrilled to have a proper bed instead of the round egg-cup of a nest that the 'big' Nosaurian had given her for her own back on Rendilli. She smiled thinking of Kerm, gruff and imposing to most, but a good heart, and how he called her hatchling, looked after her and had daily kept fluffed quite properly by his own standards the large wicker basket full of soft dried matter to accommodate his adopted friend. Still, Ahsoka had to curl up to sleep in it. Kerm who had cleaned and treated her wounds, who had fed her, given her shelter, found her shoplifting food. He took her into his own humble home rather than turn her in. For two years he tended her, saw to her education, got her a job. She reached around and rubbed the small of her aching back where Master Vos had thrown her into that thickly carved desk leg in the study. “Ah,” she cried out softly as her hand came back bloodied. One of a few deep cuts from which Kerm had only five days before removed glass shards, cleaned and closed up must have split open during the tussle with the adamant Kiffu. Ahsoka scowled and winced again, tasting the blood in her mouth. “I guess Master Vos was under a lil stress,” she murmured tersely. Unable to focus just yet, her mood shifting wildly, she stared out at the rain again. ‘I left so … Kerm must wonder if I was abducted! Probably did and filed a report with the local authorities, too. They’d consider the ships that had been in the shop and recently departed.’ Ahsoka sighed knowing she owed Kerm, but not knowing what the future would bring, she hadn’t wanted to keep the connection in case it boded badly for her. She kept a lot from him, from Sandy and the others. No one knew her past or that she was a force adept, let alone a ‘sensitive.’ She stood up suddenly with an alarming thought, though she felt unusually drained. ‘Lando and those bounty hunters had to have left a bad mess! Sure, Kerm will think the worst!’ She watched a little rivulet of rain drip down the window where the casement pane reflected her face as the hunger and exhaustion finally overtook her and she wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders above her old ‘lollipop’ blue singlet, her clothing looking quite paltry and filthy with old lubricant stains from the mechanics shop against the backdrop of draped silver blue silks, crystal carved busts and fine paintings and holos. In fact, her arms and face were be-smudged with dirt from the garden through which she’d crouched and hurried. How she must have looked! ‘He probably thought I looked all the same, just wreckless and brash lil’ Ahsoka!’ She smiled with the bittersweet memory. Lowering her eyes in a near subconscious admonishment against pride, her mind began now to feel a pulse, an emanation that she knew was Anakin. 'It is hard to leave him like that... The urgency in his voice....' She sighed. Her hands grasped the substantial scrolled metal handle of the casement window as she swayed. ‘I need …’ She began to cry softly to herself her shoulders curling in as she covered her face. “OHHH!” she growled at herself, “Stop it. You just need a lil 'freshing up, some food and sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this!” Her head felt heavy, her lekku almost hot against her neck and shoulders. Grasping the two either side of her face she ‘hung’ on them, biting her tongue as she looked around for the refresher. The bed called to her, even as a headache began to grow behind her eyes. Tired like this, sounds and vibrations were harder to filter and crossing to the plush bed, she sank onto the edge and, but for the discomfort of the rest of her, no thanks to Master Vos, would have fallen back and slept as she sat half sitting. Achingly, she pulled her boots off, a wave of relief as her feet were now free from their leather 'tombs' and the fresh air upon them. 'I wouldn't be surprised if I have blisters...' In fact, her skin crawled as she peeled off the rest of her travel worn clothing, scooped them up and padded across to the ‘fresher,’ happy to reach the cool white stone tile interior. A bath! So tired, her body felt spent. Having reached this point, she could afford to wind down a little. After all, ‘I’m here,’ she mused incredulously. The thought of immersing herself in a hot bath was irresistible. She noted the plump towels hanging on a rack nearby, awaiting use. 'If I take a bath, I'd surely fall asleep.' She laughed lightly to herself. “That’d be great! Find me waterlogged and drowned in bubbles!” No. Not yet. I need to keep awake.' She found the ‘spinner’ and tossed her clothes quickly. They’d be washed by the time she’d washed herself. She slid her hand along the stall of the copious shower and turned about and rested against there. Wanly, under the multiple shower heads she pressed her sore back to the coolness, closing her large azure eyes and backhanded the flow control, the jets opening to a pelting myriad of swirling sprays of icy cold water, her back arching as she stifled a cry and woke. Shivering, and spattering water about with a shake of her lekku, she turned the heat up, her skin tingling. She could see the vapor fill the fresher, but her body was slow to warm. She turned the heat up further, a hand sliding between her neck and the base of her lekku, finger tips grazing her lips and pressing more urgently, imagining the touch of his lips.... there. The hot water flowing over her shoulders as her thoughts went to Anakin. 'How would he have reacted back then? How could I him told him? The way he looked at me.... and now... I just wish… I just want...' The tiny jets of water bombard her skin, as her pulse and breath quickened as she breathed out a whispered name, but the throbbing in her head was now distracting. It was different from the one she had earlier, wider spread instead of behind her left eye. Ahsoka yearned to complete the sentence that was left shorn of a culminating clause, an blunt end extending into the sea of possibility like an amputated limb, raw nerves shorting and arcing for what seemed decades. A broken bond between Master and Padawan was like that. Finding her Master, so shortly to leave was consummate control and Ahsoka felt her moods shift from frenetic empathy to exhaustion as she struggled to regain balance. She’d been selfish, feverish in her desire for his attention, distressed to find him in such an extreme state and relieved the encounter had not gone horribly wrong or worse than horribly wrong. 'Why did Master Vos engage me so aggressively? What had gotten into him? It was uncalled for. He said I posed no threat. Didn't he understand?' She closed her eyes and stepped backwards into the stream of water, feeling it wash down her face. Hoping that it would help get rid of the headache. The pressure building up, the empty feeling in her stomach... reaching out, her hand against the tiled surface, to keep her balance. She gasped as it intensified. She almost fell as she turned and kept her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. 'Anakin...' The taste of blood in her mouth, She opened her mouth to a jet of water to rinse away the blood. She spat and saw that her spittle was clear before it was washed down the drain. 'Too much pain... he is..' Oh, she felt ill as she sat upon the tiled floor in the pelting water and pulling her legs close, she wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes stared out in front of her, unfocused as the room 'spun' around her. Her body felt like it was burning inside and cold without, yet she couldn't move. It was too intense. /Anakin!/ She cried out through the Force in distress. Something was happening to him and she couldn't move. She tried to reach out to him, to bridge the distance between them... TAG: Open -----signature----- "Certainty of death? Small chance of success? What are we waiting for?" "You take on One.You take on All" "Creation is an act of sheer will and next time it will be flawless"
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Sith-I-5 Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 7/26 2:35pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:06pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	IC: Major Tim Bayliss, The General, Captain Na’Than, Enforcer One command centre. Location: Unknown Regions. Fifty klicks from ‘Phat Base’ Golan II. “A diversion will have to be created for us, but I think if we come in high over the top of it or even underneath, we can breach the hull and disable the shields. You’re going to lose possibly 75% of your diversionary force for us to get aboard. Can you live with that?” Colonel Uvye had stated. “My men are ready, sir.” Major Bayliss intervened, standing at the side, batallion cape flowing behind his armour, and his helmet in the crook of his arm. Na’Than regarded the Major critically, regarding the man a fool. No commander worth his salt, would accept such a dire assessment of their troops, true or not! He waved Bayliss into silence, and looked back at Uvye. “I think you underestimate our men, Colonel.” Uvye moved round the room, mulling over his idea, and stopped in front of the general. “It's your call, General.” Before their tactical specialist could respond, the Executive Officer stepped up behind Na’Than and quietly informed him that all 156 V-19 Torrent-class starfighters, and all 80 larties, were crewed and ready for deployment. Similarly, all twelve of their quad turbolaser cannon, and their point defense laser cannon emplacements were manned. Same with the four torpedo crews. General Tacticus looked back into Uvye’s eyes. “Our plan was to keep the ship back to bombard the space platform from extreme range, and send the larties in ahead. So, to confirm that we are all on the same page, Colonel, is your plan that we take Enforcer One directly above or below the station to pummel the shields from close range?” Na’Than regarded the two senior officers carefully. Colonel Wayland’s order had been that Uvye be in charge of this rescue operation, so he would carry out the ISB officer’s orders without question; he just needed to clarify what they were. Tag: Ominous/Uvye IC: Chaygte, Big Bunji, Phat Base offices. Location: Unknown Regions. Fifty klicks from Enforcer One. The lepi-eared humanoid had been sitting in a reclining chair, black kneeboots up on her desk top, sipping on a glass of golden wine, when the alarm klaxon echoed throughout the space station. For an instant, she was transported to her days in the Centrality Navy, manning a boring little base in the Hosrel system, but in the next instant she was back, swinging her feet off the desk, and punching the security centre into her internal comlink panel. “What is it, this time?” She demanded. The voice of that new guy, Bunji, came back. “An Acclamator just dropped out of hyperspace. About fifty klicks off. Our shields are up, before you ask.” She was pleased to note that the new guy seemed reasonably calm with the turn of events, and instead turned her mind to the intruder vessel. From her limited knowledge of the Golan II capabilities, she knew it could handle an older cruiser of that class, but still, it was a bit of a step up from the ARC-170 fighter that their prisoners had turned up in. The Empire’s advantage, their distance outside regular Imperial space not-withstanding, was that they could call upon significant reinforcements if they wanted to. “Jam their transmissions.” She ordered. “There may already be other vessels on the way, but if there are not, we don’t want them calling for help.” “Good thinking, Number Two. As ordered.” Chaygte cut the connection, and pressed a different toggle to give her contact elsewhere in the station. “Purge the computers of any remaining data relating to the Project, then start evacuating all non-combat personnel.” Tag: no-one -----signature----- Crowning Moment of Awesome – THE MASTER. Summoning six billion robotic beach balls Of Doom to decimate the Earth, blowing a good-bye kiss to the Doctor, all the while dancing to "Voodoo Child". EPIC. EVIL. WIN. 007 Family - DVC's twin bro'.
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LadyZaraMarta Registered: Aug '04	Date Posted: 7/27 6:53am Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:06pm (2 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
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Ominous Registered: Jul '04	Date Posted: 7/28 7:56am Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 8/2 9:07pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthXan318
	IC: Colonel Uvye Location: Unknown Regions. Fifty klicks from ‘Phat Base’ Golan II. General Tacticus looked back into Uvye’s eyes. “Our plan was to keep the ship back to bombard the space platform from extreme range, and send the larties in ahead. So, to confirm that we are all on the same page, Colonel, is your plan that we take Enforcer One directly above or below the station to pummel the shields from close range?” Uvye looked in the direction of the General and the Captain, “Yes, that is what I am advising. This is space, not terra firma.” He stopped and walked away to once again look at the readouts of the platform. “Think of it as burrowing under your enemy and striking him from behind. The station expects an assault to occur head-on from all directions, but its underbelly could be exposed.” He continued walking around the bridge. Movement seemed to clear his mind and help him think more clearly of the situation at hand. “Sitting back and launching away will give the impression that we are soft and not willing to get hurt. A solid strike at close range, obviously not in direct line of their guns will show this platform and the Galaxy that we are not to be messed with!” He paused, “Once inside, we will neutralize any threat to the ship or are you wanting this platform intact for your own use? If so, a distant strike as a diversion will allow us to get close and kill everyone inside, keeping damage to a minimum.” He turned to the Captain of Enforcer One. “Captain, this is your ship, it is your decision.” He waited for an answer. TAG: Major Tim Bayliss, The General, Captain Na’Than -----signature----- Proud member of the JTC Silence is Golden, Duct tape is Silver! Those who live by the lightsaber get shot by those who don't. the real purpose of language is no longer to convey meaning - it is to obscure meaning
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Sith-I-5 Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 7/28 12:18pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 7/28 12:30pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Sith-I-5
	OOC: ‘Prodigal’ based on UK band, ‘Prodigy’. IC: Officer Cummings, Star Destroyer Chimaera. Location: close to Arrissa Field After seeing the second shift settled at their bridge crew stations, Cummings had repaired to the freshers at the rear of the twin crew pits. Now, scrubbing his hands with the creamy white soap, rinsing, and then splashing water into his face to freshen himself up, he suddenly remembered the Noghri, Ruhk, and the STANG force back on Naboo. It seemed like they were going to be in this spot for a while, surrounding the frighteningly cool Admiral Thaw's Star Destroyer, so he could have a message sent back there, allow the Grand Admiral’s favourite enforcer to catch up with them. Drying his hands on the blower, he emerged into the business area of the bridge, the command area. “ComScan, anything for me?” “Commander, a signal has been received from Sector Command. The B.O.L.O. re. That Eclipse has been cancelled, and it has arrived at the Obligon Nebulae.” The ensign at that station reported, standing up. “Obligon.” Cummings mused to himself. “That’s not too far from here.” “No, sir.” The junior nodded towards the mess of rocks outside the bridge windows, that went up and to the sides as far as anyone could see. “Other side of that asteroid field, in fact.” “That asteroid field?” “Yes sir. And there’s more.” Cummings sighed. “I can hardly wait.” The ensign’s face took on a curious air. “Sir?” “Just tell me.” “The BOLO referenced a request that Sector Command attempted earlier, regarding a joint Imperial/ Kuati anti-piracy operation to take place at Obligon, which is, of course, at the edge of Chommel Sector space. We were in hyperspace, and have only just received it.” Cummings rolled his eyes. “They really should have waited for the Grand Admiral to respond before acting. Though with pirates, they tend not to give too big a time window, in which to act.” He pursed his lips, thinking. The Grand Admiral would have to be advised, of course. “Give me the mission title and objectives.” “Commander. Objective parameters are the interdiction and complete annihilation of forces commanded by one,” He paused to bring up a datapad, while his superior waited patiently. “Lone Ranger, sir. No pun intended. Mission title, Operation Bith Slap.” The commander smiled. “Well well. Someone is a music fan.” “Sir?” “You don’t know ‘Slap My Bith Up’ by Prodigal?” The smile turned to a toothy grin. “I’ll sing the main chorus for you sometime...” The officer noticed the background murmur of operators hard at work drop away to a chilling, expectant, silence. “...when we are not on the bridge, operating under an alert status.” The murmur rose again. Cummings nodded to the ensign, who sat back at his station. The commander turned to leave, but hesitated, returning to the junior officer. “Do me a favour. Looks like we are going to be here a while. Send a message back to the Noghri’s team on Naboo. Tell them where we are so they can rejoin us.” “Sir.” The young man nodded, and satisfied, Cummings climbed out of the angular pit, and trotted over to and rapped sharply on, the closed door of Thrawn’s meditation chamber where the Chiss and Captain Pellaeon were right now. Tag: Grand Admiral Thrawn (Corellian_Outrider), Captain Pellaeon (me) -----signature----- Crowning Moment of Awesome – THE MASTER. Summoning six billion robotic beach balls Of Doom to decimate the Earth, blowing a good-bye kiss to the Doctor, all the while dancing to "Voodoo Child". EPIC. EVIL. WIN. 007 Family - DVC's twin bro'.
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ArgenPalos Registered: Apr '04	Date Posted: 7/28 11:26pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 7/28 11:39pm (1 edits total) Edited By: ArgenPalos
	IC: Padawan Nashtah, Biggs Darklighter, Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar Location: the Great Temple, Yavin IV Biggs was relieved when General Torian called a hasty end to the rather contentious assemblage of the Alliance High Council. True to form, the General seemingly grew tired of the jabbering and bickering and used his position as Supreme Commander to put a halt to the summit. Undoubtedly, a politician he was not. However, the most seasoned of politicians in the room was also thankful for the forceful commandeering of the General. Mon Mothma, once the youngest Senator ever to hold a seat in the Galactic Senate and despite her, grinned at the General satisfactorily. Although she was a consummate politician, she saw that it was ultimately the politicians of the once august body who had failed the Old Republic. Corruption, greed, conformity and a disregard for the welfare of their constituents had overtaken the true founding principles of the assemblage and as a result it had become a bloated, unwieldy ruling body unable to deal with the litany of problems that assailed the galaxy. If only they could have another chance, she was sure they would not squander their opportunity again! Biggs was glancing in Admiral Ackbar’s direction waiting to see what his plans where now that the meeting was over. After various recent undertakings, the Alliance Navy was resting and rebuilding. However, Ackbar didn’t meet Biggs’ gaze, he was busy conferring with General Dodonna and General Yueh, who seemed to disapprove of the abrupt ending of the gathering. Biggs felt a firm tap and turning around it was his friend, Jon Matrix with a curious question: “Hey old buddy,” Jon said putting his hand on his Biggs’ shoulder. “How do you fancy blowing some stuff up?” Biggs grinned knowingly. He figured that Matrix was referring to the mission to destroy the cloning facility that had just been talked about in the High Council meeting. As Biggs nodded but suddenly wondering if Admiral Ackbar would give him a temporary leave from command of his ship, the Paladin, but eager to get in on the action, Matrix stopped him: “Don't answer now, have a think about it and when you have an answer come and see me over in Lucius Fox's office,” Matrix finished, seemingly a man on a mission as Matrix hurriedly made his way out of the large room. Biggs was already wondering if he could finesse the Admral into allowing him leave for this mission but the wheels in his mind were already turning as he too made his way out. As he saluted the two sentries who stoutly guarded the entrance way which had now been unsealed, he passed by the ante-chamber where much to his surprise sat a familiar face, though he couldn’t quite remember her name, it was the same Force user that Andur del Jinn had faced in on Ryloth not too long ago. Biggs had enjoyed an eagle’s eye view of the heated duel, having piloted the Darth Unlucky, on request from the owner of the ship, Mitch Nifesta, and was in fact the pilot when Andur, like a pouncing hawk bounded out of the ship mid-flight and went to the rescue of another young Jedi. The all too familiar shock of red hair accompanied by the pale, almost white skin, he knew this female to be a fierce fighter and only through the patient, wearing down by the Jedi was able to stay her attacks. In fact, it seems she was formerly a Jedi turned bounty hunter but after a reconciliatory encounter, she was back in the fold of the Jedi order. However, though he knew what had happened, he was shocked to see her here, so close to the High Council, and not only that but in Jedi robes and looking after who he recalled was the son of General Torian and his Jedi bride! Biggs couldn’t help staring and Nashtah, the resulting stares by the other members of the High Council, most who now knew the details of the supposed prodigal Jedi (although the details had been kept from the population-at-large), was now sheepishly looking down, now avoiding eye contact with the exiting members though her senses could not help feel the quizzical and even combative that were being expelled. Nashtah felt humiliated, feeling almost like a caged tiger being baited with sticks through the bars which disallowed her from escaping. There is no emotion, there is peace, she mouthed to herself as she grasped the small hands of Achilles for some comfort from a fellow Jedi. Lifting her head, she met the gaze of Biggs with serenity, who now felt embarrassed for staring though not sure how he should feel about this recalcitrant bounty hunter decided to move on as their eyes met and feigned not taking notice of her. Anyway, if he was to meet Matrix in time he needed to get some things done on the Paladin and pack a satchel for the trip and get ready for the debriefing, if the Admiral allowed it that is. In a brisk pace, he mad his way away from this Aurra Sing or now as she was know, Padawan Nashtah. Nashtah, met the glare of General Yueh as he proceeded out with a placid demeanor. He had urged Admiral Ackbar to incarcerate or interrogate Sing or at the very least test this “Jedi” in a death defying mission to see if her conversion was real. Of course, the Admiral had ruled out such a thing. Still angry at what he perceived to be a lack of any real action by the High Council, he stomped away, resolute as ever to continue pushing the council in the direction of more aggressive action. Nashtah was pleased as the exit from the small room became free, certainly Master Shuri would be exiting soon now too and after handing over Achilles to her (and her husband, this General Darkeyes) she would rush back to the safety and peace of the Woolmander Temple. Oh, why couldn’t the Master have been the first one out of the room, she pondered, now desperate for a friendly face. Though Magris Quill, who sat next to her seemed friendly enough, the mask hid his face and somehow the sanctuary of a forgiving smile seemed so necessary right then. TAG: Emi-to Shuri, Gen. Torian, all at the meeting -----signature----- }~Proud member of the Jedi Technician Crew (JTC)~{ ~~~~Palmam qui meruit ferat~~~~ USC Trojans - 2009 Rose Bowl Champs and CFB Team of the Decade
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Sith-I-5 Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 7/30 2:56pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith
	IC: Captain Eliforp Risk, Flight Officer Shaara “Bait”, Sergeant Grillo, Ambivalence Star Destroyer, Y-Wing, Doom 2 ARR Blockade Runner. Captain Risk was enjoying the holo-communication. The captain of the Scimitar Taskforce’ medical vessel, Huntress was making a courtesy contact to report the safe arrival at Imperial Centre, of her ship. And why did he care? Because his medical people were aboard, seconded there by Captain Perrinaw. Both the captain, and his Surgeon-Commander Debgate, were crowding into the holo-shot for him to see, the medic having to bend down to fit. “I will be there as soon as I can.” He assured Deb’ soothingly. “Has Grand Admiral Carthaginian’s ships arrived yet?” Captain Iillor asked. She had less hair than his officer, but it was the same yellow blonde as the taller girl. “Negative.” He had to admit. “Probably a good idea that Perrinaw left me behind to guard these other ships.” “Speaking of which,” The Huntress commander was looking out of shot whilst talking to him. “Perrinaw’s group; Wraithis and the other ships, just arrived.” “Oh that is great news!” Risk smiled, truly pleased to hear that the rest of his battlegroup had made it back, this day. There had been so many losses at Mygeeto, in the effort to eradicate the CIS. “Alright, I have to go. See you soon.” He switched the button to disconnect the hyperspace commo, and looked up at his aide who had poked his head round the door to the holoprojector. “Sir? It’s back.” * * * * Y-Wing, edge of the Mygeeto System Shaara sent her compact fighter-bomber forwards, tackling with a crisis of conscience. To be a member of the Rebel Alliance, you had to be prepared to take the lives of Imperial combatants, and she had the perfect opportunity to do that in the name of creating a diversion, ahead of her. Comparing her telesponder data and sensor readings from her earlier sortie, the analysts had been able to surmise that the Star Destroyer Rage of Ranroon had lost half of its hull and decks in some cataclysm of the recent conflict with the Confederacy fleet. What was left was protected from lethal vacuum only by emergency shields and internal blast doors. She could launch a spread of torpedoes into that weakness and claim fifteen to twenty thousand Imperial lives. Lives that would then not be available to crew other weapons of terror; that would not be able to wear the jackboots that could be pressed down upon the necks of the galaxy’s citizens. But could she do it? Would it make her and the Alliance into the monsters that they were arrayed against? * * * * Vehicle bay, the Doom 2 Sergeant Grillo and nine ARR infantry men in sealed vacuum suits sat in the depressurised vehicle bay at the bottom of the blockade runner, awaiting deployment. The senior officers had been split over what target to go for. They would be picking their way through the shattered fleet or fleets ringing the wintry planet, and but should they go all the way to the planet, and pick up salvageable hardware and crystals lying on the surface; or instead land inside the wreck of a CIS or Imperial cruiser, and try to get something there? Decisions, decisions. * * * * The hammer-headed blockade runner proceeded slowly through the artificial asteroid field that the mighty vessels of the CIS and the Empire, had become. There were sections of starship that shone blue-grey in the half-light reflected off the planet, with enough shape and mass that you could tentatively identify what type of vessel they had come from – a Nebulon-B frigate here, a Providence-class destroyer there. Thus far though, nothing that you would consider setting down a multi-tonne corvette inside. They continued looking. Tag: no-one -----signature----- Crowning Moment of Awesome – THE MASTER. Summoning six billion robotic beach balls Of Doom to decimate the Earth, blowing a good-bye kiss to the Doctor, all the while dancing to "Voodoo Child". EPIC. EVIL. WIN. 007 Family - DVC's twin bro'.
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pashatemur Registered: Jun '04	Date Posted: 7/30 9:09pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith - Date Edited: 7/30 10:12pm (5 edits total) Edited By: pashatemur
	OOC: This is a joint effort with SithStarSlayer, with a contribution from Corellian_Outrider, and very brief excepts from Mr. Bear’s novel, “Rogue Planet.” Special and most sincere gratitude to SithStarSlayer for his creativity and support, to Mr. Bear for his wonderful novel, and to C_O for his constant generosity. The collaboration, SSS, was more than I could have hoped for. Please accept my humble thanks for all you do. MEMO from the GM: Yes, the day is fast approaching. There will be posting here in GAW III until the new thread opens, that date to be arranged. I am preparing the crawl and as soon as that is done, I will submit the administrative requirements and open the new thread. Several things you need to know in preparation for THE GALAXY AT WAR IV: 1. We WILL NOT EXPERIENCE AN ADVANCE IN TIME at the opening of the new thread and all plots may continue without interruption from GAW III to IV. 2. HOWEVER, when posting in the new thread for continuing plots, provide in your first posts, a BRIEF and SUCCINT RECAPITULATION of the plot involved in your post. Those of you waiting on posts from me in answer to tags, I have a number of them working and have not forgotten you! Thank you all who have and who continue to contribute, Pash IC: Vader, Vos, Dr. Molita, Jabbitha, Revan, Obi wan, Celeste, Qui gon, Ahsoka Tano, muted Padme, Vagno and a dark presence LOCATION: Imperial Center/Coruscant, the Royal bed chamber/operating theatre of the Ursean Embassy in the Embassy District ]Part 5 of 5: Crucible The question hung in the air thickly as the room sudden lit with a flash of lightning; a rare event on the climate controlled megalopolis and likely one that caused workers in the nearby towers to lift their heads from their desks and note. “I will begin by purging the remnants of your tainted flesh; those wounds must be re-opened...” “This is madness, my Re!” exclaimed Molita. “I will not watch you suffer and die at the hands of this… Shaman!” “Once cleansed,” added Vos with a dark glance, “we must bind our wills to the Force in order to manipulate the essence of life into creating new lung tissue.” “You’ve never done this before, much less, seen it done?!” stated Molita incredulously. “I am a healer, Ledaren, my every breathing moment dedicated to the healing arts and I tell you, this man’s body is a ‘divine field,’ he has been cleaned and mended,” growled Molita, literally standing himself between the Vader and Vos and pointing to the floor. “I have considered myself an open mind, but you WILL NOT experiment with the RE’s life! BY FIRE! – PARTICULARLY, WHEN SAID EXPERIMENT CALLS FOR REOPENING MENDING WOUNDS! YOU WILL ONLY WEAKEN HIM FURTHER! NO SIR!” “STO…..P”, rasped Anakin, coughing and then more subdued, “…Herr Doctor… stop! I … know what … hangs in … balance…” “My Re’, said Molita spinning round and falling to his knee, “I beg you, if not for your own sake, then for Her Majesty’s, we must not be this desperate. Wait, I will grow cultures from new samples of your tissue…” “You…” Anakin, closing his eyes, stopped to breathe and wheezed out a bitter laugh, “you… said earlier… tissue… no integrity till … radiation… poisoning proven purged…I AM considering …Her Majesty…” he curled his fists and Molita felt the air compress, the room to quake slightly under foot and a split second later alarms could be heard to sound far off in the surrounding district and some within the Embassy. “BLAAASSST!” gurgled Anakin, his mind reaching out, enfolding the image of Ursa as if to protect her against the ‘horde’ of his visions. “….No choice…. You assist...M’lita….” Anakin looked over the doctor’s head to Vos and nodded. The Ursean Doctor struggled to resolve himself. “Your blood will be on my hands, Your Majesty and may the ‘Little Mother’” whispered Molita sadly, meaning the Reina Marie-Celeste, “forgive my black soul should you suffer your mortality.” He touched his forehead, lips and heart reverently in rememberence and pledge, and slowly rose. “What must I do,” said Molita solemnly, his back to Vos. ** With a liberal lacing of his own brand of forbearance, the Kiffu wisecracked, "Make sure that my head doesn't bust the floor when this is all over..." and removed his gloves before coming to stand directly beside the Emperor. “We need to get him off this metal table and onto the Marble. I’ll move him the easy way this time; just stand behind him so you can cradle his head." The thick mop of dark dreadlocks jostled forward as Vos lowered his head, closed his eyes and then stepped back; raising his bare left hand to further manipulate the Force and gently lifted Vader off of the table. Seasoned space travelers seldom remarked on the slight sensation of weightlessness that could be experienced on cheap junkets with poorly modulated ‘dampners,’ but Anakin remembered his first flight into space, eyes big with wonder and peering excitedly out of the view ports till he was unsteady. Padme’s ship required maintenance that affected the inertia control, and for a while he found himself crouched in a corner sick to the stomach and shivering till she offered him a blanket... It fazed him not at all, now, but for most people, the experience was unsettling, failing to find just the perfect description for the destabilizing and disorienting feeling of that dissipation of gravity, the anchor that gave one a sense of up and down. Yet, we were all hurtling through space in the most general sense, he’d explained once. The absence of acceleration forces though, did not feel like endlessly falling, although in reality, that is what it is. No…floating, a stillness that could unnerve those used to the frenetic rush of unmindful life… floating, as on a salted eddy on the Malme or Kavalan seas… “Come in …into the vatten, Mr. Affable…” There was a slight wave-like ebb and flow and the sound of surf nearly… Levitating, like being polarized to the magnetism of a specific gravity was like floating on water without the reassuring press of it’s surface tension. Anakin felt the waft of the Force and lay back, still, having oriented himself. Trust - It was not a hallmark of the progenitors of the “Rule of Two.” Anakin drew his excited consciousness tautly together, his face garnering that serene and perfect calm his boyhood Master remarked on so well and the restless seed partner remnants, Anakin was unsure just how these voices remained, settled-down within him, becoming quite somber. He remembered how they had been… He would be one with his ship. The Zonoman’s would bio-form a ship – the fastest most responsive ship ever! An early mission with Obi wan to find a missing Jedi in which they found more riddles than answers, but Anakin found something precious, something ineffable and vast or rather it had found … no, ‘they,’ the seed partners that would be formed into his ship, found him -15 of them, the most by far ever to choose a ‘client.’ Clinging to him with their little claws, they’d been for a space of hours, nearly pets and seeing them calmly submit to the fire of the forging, had been a trauma imprinted on him for life! Yet, it was not their cloying…No, that… was too like the younglings…Anakin gasped, his heart tight. “…You’ll remember the forging pits. And – my name is Vagno. You’ll remember me!”….* He shook his head. Lost was that innocence but they would be reborn in him and in the ship… Jabbitha! Anakin could almost smell again the sooty stench of the Zonoman forging pits, the seeds speaking their nervousness to him. He spoke in his native tongue, in his mind to the seeds, imagining them in their thick fuzzy skins and stocky little legs, how they scrambled over his body, clung and mewed, speaking reassuringly. They had been through this before, but this would be a different kind of shaping! He would hope for a “sky fire” and a voice spoke back in his mind: “The best there can be!” Anakin answered, raising his head and opening his eyes as he caught the slender breath and whispered, “Qui Gon?” “This will happen to you….heat and death and resurrection. A seed will quicken….Will it think and create or be ruled by fear and destroy?” Anakin responded, repeating the words of the Master he knew but briefly, his lips moving, his voice nearly inaudible, “Yes… ‘dventure’s …growth…s’prise’s …th’ gift….. th’ gift’f awareness’f …limits.” He did not flinch as he floated in the cool air of the large and darkened room. There was a current that disturbed the still and Anakin feeling it, in grief, murmured , “I’ve d’story’d…a’ready…” “It is a hard path, Anakin, I never promised otherwise. Do what you believe you cannot do and let the past be the past… Your focus determines your reality." The memory of small hands clutching at his dark robes suddenly resolved to the calm of those forging pits and Anakin realized they were now and forever part of him, the slain. The moments crystallized and hardened had imprisoned him and fixed him here upon Coruscant, every day his heart within that Council Chamber struggling against the flow of the Force. Closing his eyes hard against the complexity with which he was presented, he sighed, his head tossing as the Doctor held in one outstretched hand, a small rebreather. *** Quinlan waited for the doctor to get into position before setting the Emperor down. Molita's skilled hands were there supporting his Re’s head, as Vos gently guided his brother to the cold and polished marble floor just outside the screens. The casements thrummed preternaturally, and outside, a gusting wind whipped the trees at the perimeter of the terraced mountain garden, the gold silk inside the sealed room, billowed gently, long curtains hanging from high above each casement shimmering in a wavelike motion. Puzzled, the Doctor looked over to Vos as he heard the Re murmur, unable to make much of what was said. Though the ol’ Kiffu noted the strange language in which his prostrate brother murmured, he himself was deeply concentrating in the Force and knelt somberly down beside the right side of Vader’s bare torso. He spoke in a low voice: "Even without your prosthetic, this is still dicey with that blasted magnet and all these... conductors." Anakin swallowed and nodded slightly, his understanding. Quinlan held Anakin's gaze as he continued. "That ancient Sith must’ve been wired like a Kiffar," Vos raised an eyebrow at the irony of what he just said, then continued: "...so, like he did, I'm going to 'search-out' the dead tissue and then I'm going fry it from the inside-out…” Vos narrowed his gaze, “And just when you think you can't take anymore, I-‘we’, set our sights inwards... brother, we're gonna pump you full of the Force. Once that reaches the tipping point, we'll have to channel it all in the right direction." “Ledaren…” said Molita with restrained concern, “that magnet keeps the metals and igneous shards from shredding his heart… will this pose a threat to its functioning?” Anakin already knew the answer, but he looked up to Vos questioningly, though resolutely. "There is the possibility that you'll explode like a lightning grenade, never mind the magnet, or you could dissipate the energy to cleanse every cell in your body. We won’t know until we reach the precipice..." The med-droids stood as silent sentinels while Vos reached down, leaning his chest into his knee to brace himself, both bare hands now upon the pale flesh at the top of Vader’s ribcage, Molita at the Re’s head looking on with concern. Quin had to stem the tide and silence the rush of information that sprang into the forefront of his mind’s eye upon contact. It was said long ago that a ‘Guardian’s sight’ was like a blind-hyperspace-jump for the mind, but instead of opening-up, Vos focused his mind inward, upon the task at hand… Slowly the Sheyftain inhaled, his head still bowed, chiseled features illumined by a faint and silver glow emanating from the Re’s skin and bathing softly the two men who bowed protectively over him, one who had been a Master Jedi, the other an Ursean whose ancient lineage unbeknownst to him, was deeply connected to the mystery of the seed partners, their backs to the encroaching dark. It was raining over the central northern mass of what used to be a continent. Vaguely, Anakin felt it and looked over his shoulder past Molita to the windows, the same rain which fell now, would pool on the paving stones soon, he thought, a sense of leave taking, a sharp cold wind of change within. Molita’s voice rumbled softly from his chest, chanting low and sonorously. “Water of life…” There were tears... Quin’s vision was filled by a cream and white-blue colored light, even though his eyes remained closed and the only noise he could still discern was the ever fading sound of his beating heart. It wasn’t long before even that fell silent and he felt as if he were sitting beside himself, such was his introspection. He could no longer feel Vader’s pulse through his fingertips. Quinlan looked deeper within; to further distance himself from the world around. Now separated from his gift, the ‘noise’ quieted, he began to ‘see as he felt’ the nerves and muscles in his shoulders, biceps and forearms, the sensation of every signal transmitting down each neuropath way through the tips of his fingers. The relay of information from brain-stem to nerve-end became more tangible. Each digit became a pressure sensor and a conduit for the Force, a ten point extension of his mind’s eye; his will. The sensation almost couldn’t be described. Immersed in the Stream, time had no bearing and space had no meaning. A minute, an hour… a year even, they all meant nothing. Free from distractions and the restraints of real-time, all Vos could perceive was Vader’s aura and their connection in Force. The Kiffu knew the moment had arrived. Now far beyond the sensation of a simple touch, the ‘sight of feeling’ soon revealed to Quinlan the delicate paving of cell to cell, perfectly formed and supple, translucent fibrous walls resisting his intrusion before they, in unison, were reminded to give way. Through suspension of golgi apparati, mitochondrian, the rigid compartments of the endoplasmic reticulum, the nucleus, centrosome and their knife-like microtubules and the midichlorians, the placid seeming, fragile walls of the fortress gave way to a pulsing seeming random business of life, Vos descended. The tendrils of his mind extended beyond his own flesh, and fully merged with the flesh under Vader’s ribcage. Quinlan shuddered from the chill that ran up his spine as he realized in that instant, that the warnings hadn’t been stern enough. He could distinctly feel the dark side of the Force; seeking-out on its own, threatening to consume. He understood what needed to be done and there was no turning back so he pressed on, further exerting his will. Dermal barriers yielded to muscle and muscle to tendon and cartilage and bone, the vascular rush, a seething wash, a slow beating drum that Vos could feel his own pulse claimed. The lungs filled shallowly, the blood traversing with scant infusion of oxygen the scarred alveoli dragged up and down ravaged and open, flat and impotent though the very lean of midichlorians even now, worked to generate NEW tissue, but the air sacs lay lifeless and deflating, aspirated and bubbling with the loss of air and fluid. Over and over, he traced the damaged tissue, transforming the pattern of damaged tissues into a topographic map of sorts in his mind until the outline was all he could ‘see’. It was there; at the point merging, that the son of Pethros lit the flame. Miniscule sparks on each side of Vader’s chest at first. Bent to his will; with his hands flexed as hard as naturally possible, the dark side energy arced-out to follow the lines as Quinlan saw them. The unnaturally induced current instantly made its way around the mapped out bio-circuit and immediately looped right back through him. The sudden surge of pain causing his jaw to gape slightly, but no sound escaped. Feeling the wilted flesh give way, he intensified his assault upon it. SEARING RED HOT WAVERING HEAT TO SPLIT ONE RIPELY OPEN. THE CELLS DANCED BLOATED WITH STEAM AND CARBON, THE SWEET SUGARS CARMELIZING AND SPITTING WITH THE CONFINES OF FRAGILE FLESH! Blue eyes opened to gaze upward. “…the cup is turned one third around. …the cloth drawn simply and with a fine and particular sweep across the stoneware edge. …the cup is lifted in both hands. …the learner will notice the ripples…” “Th’…learn’r… ‘ll … notice… rippl…” Anakin heard his voice, as if from afar, speak the lessons of the tea meditation – the first of many meditation his Master had patiently taught him. Molita held his concentration though his body jerked as in a waking dream, the dream that comes with a sudden release of tension at the leading edge of sleep, as one feels they have suddenly begun to fall. The ravages had been great; tissue shredded, gone, and the slow morbidity of resilient flesh still possessed of a driving pulse to continue against the ravages of crystallized magma and flaking, dissolving toxic ash flexed and throbbed with stubborn life. So much tissue cut away already, but there was more that had succumbed even though Anakin was laboring greatly, the midichlorians effervescing, their connection to the Force firing off at phenomenal rate, the activity blinding. Yet, the Re’s metabolic function was unable to keep up and Vos strained to redirect the white blood cells, the antibodies that had begun to attack the body in their heightened state of action. For that matter, he could feel Anakin, focused too, restraining from fighting Vos’s actions, a foreign presence within him. Molita continued, “Welcome the shaper…” “Bruhhh…th’r…” gasped Anakin. Molita held a breathing apparatus in place as the Re twitched and tossed his head, unable to submerge yet into a healing trance and reduce his need for oxygen, he inhaled greedily though measured to little avail. If the Re writhed more forcefully, the Doctor surmised he would not be able to hold the young Emperor’s rebreather in place. Like drowning in the Dune Sea… one would flail and sputter, seeking to catch a breath, the larynx closing against the blowing sand - foreign medium, anything that could not be processed by the alveoli or which would obstruct, then burning, burning for lack of air…neurons firing steadily slower as one slipped … into…. “Nah… nnn,” Anakin gritted from between his teeth, shutting down what functions he could to minimize his needs for oxygen, his chest feeling as though it would explode. But inside him was the calm of the seed partners. The memory of them calmly burrowed in the kindling, awaiting the fire, soothed. Molita sat up suddenly more alert as he felt the Re’s body grow calm. The vitals could be seen on the far monitor. He gazed down feeling through the Force that the Re had slowed his heart rate significantly, his temperature had dropped, but the beat was steady. What was the Ledaren doing? The Doctor glanced quickly to him, but Vos’ face could not be seen, his head was bowed beneath his dreadlocks. His sense of self long gone, Quinlan met the searing pain head-on. The more it hurt, the harder he pushed; the dead tissue and cells continued to give way, inching closer to the untainted portion of Anakin’s lungs. Quinlan could feel the edge fast approaching; bearing down, he pressed to maintain control. Anakin could taste and smell the metallic sweet tang of blood and burnt flesh filling his mouth and nose even as his mind concentrated to catch up to Vos’ actions. His chest burned as if newly returned to the sulfuric Kalee battle, the smoke of charred tissue escaping the Re’s mouth in wisps of pale blue smoke reminding Molita of the Dragon of Ursa! Molita heard the system monitors begin to ping warnings of sudden change one by one: metabolic function, pulse, pressure, brain activity - time lapse impressions from the outside to suggest to the trained physician or medi-droid the state of the patient’s physical being. It was frustrating and now urgently alarming to know these indicators were now useless, and the soft insistent alarms only served to punctuate the uselessness and sinking feeling the Doctor now felt. “Get me the pneumatics,” called Molita to the hovering medi-droids. He must be prepared to resuscitate the young Emperor if the Ledaren’s “alchemy” proved a failure. Molita, kneeling above the Re’s head, looked with a mixture of stubborn hope and anger to Vos and silently, he sat back. The mechanical science of medicine would have to yield to what had for eons been rejected by all but the village wise elders as careless meddling with the precarious foundation of existence. The old Shamans painted themselves red and sat in the sweat lodges to purify themselves before they ‘laid on the hands.’ The chorus of monks or nuns would chant as sacred herbs perfumed the air and so was the village purified, or the hearth or indeed the Royal household. This is what the Doctor recalled of his history studies, sighing with resolve. The ancient ways could not hurt. “Let he who is unfettered pass, he who bravely faces the boatman, for not without fire will he fly…” Cells did not yield to the stimuli in strictly predictable ways and even the ancients failed to bring the results promised, citing lapses in adherence to the prescribed cleansing or sacrifice. With reluctance born of doctrine, Molita gave himself to mantra and chanted low in his kavalanic. “…scribed is the arc of heaven…the potter’s wheel sings in his shaping…” As with lilting fronds in a forest, Vos’ passage was marked. The dead and dying cells smoked like small piles of debris in their clearings, even to the dead cells where there had formed and died, the neo pluripotent cells of his stumped arm. Truncated and abrupt-ed, something there remained unsaid, and the angular routing and inorganic nodes of an old vision – so vivid and bitingly visceral, rose again to Anakin’s sensing, a searing pain snaking through tendon, vein, and muscle, held him there to note the dormant possibilities of ‘forearm’ and ‘fingers’ just as in his lungs, ‘bronchia’ or ‘alveoli.’ Some other urging made him linger and caused him to contemplate the coordinate memory of the missing cells that had once constituted an arm, bone, skin, muscle... Mind accustomed to the thick tautness of the fibrous tissue which closed his wound, he now felt acutely the flickering electric pulse reach for the structures which used to lay beyond the dull white keloid and in following that reach, the ‘memory’ of differentiation remained. Clustered against the bite mark on his ankle, the scar over his right eye, his lungs, his arm, and all throughout his body, the cells agitated. The seed partners whispered as one, coalescing into the presence over whose absence he’d thought he’d grieved, now suddenly aware ‘she’ had remained – somehow! “…the shaper remembers the future...and the past...” “…J’bith..” Anakin exclaimed. There would now be other such promising tissues where the useless had burned away, Jabbitha chanted, “…ready for … ‘the shaping.’” Molita looked up suddenly, body tingling as the windows thrummed with wind and rain. The word, “shaping” stuck in his mind. “Shaping?” thought the Doctor. An image came to him of a vast char-filled pit and quaking, from under the ash, a splitting sizzling sound. He looked expectantly over the Re’s body, biting his lip as Vader’s chest leaped; the trembling muscles beneath his smooth glowing skin taunt against some inner swelling. Vos still knelt, his head bent, his hands upon the Re’s torso. The Doctor could feel the Kiffar’s intensity; indeed his bare arms were flexed and glistened in the long stripes of pale light that reached into the dark room. The droids whirred to a stop at the edge of the mysterious glow the held the three men and stood alien over the preternatural communion like metal sculpted gargoyles. The term ‘phantom limb’ was used to describe what amputees felt concerning their missing limbs. The Re was consummately trained in the balance of his body and his file held very little complaint of phantom pain yet just now, the Doctor sensed there was some irritation at the exposed stump. There had been research manipulating cells to a neotenous or neutral state from which they might be stimulated to become skin or any other organ cell in a mature state, but the manipulations yielded unpredictable results and were prone to wild and uninhibited growth. ‘Was this what this alchemy attempted?’ Chromosomes echoed the ancient equations, though in each utterance the tone evolved. The midichlorians sounded deeply the origins, undulating in the wells and apex of a permeating ocean, somehow moving subtly in concert with all others, something far deeper than conscious memory, hearkening to the cosmic harmony, emanating from the dense dark matter that swelled the known and the unknown. These cells remembered fire and love, compassion and cruelty, self and nothingness and swaying now in this still place, they moved with the memory of an impediment or push from distant agents. They knew the motion of this vast ocean of the Force, touched the motion which shaped star systems and squelched others. These cells remember other iterations of this self! He wondered,’ beyond time, can there be … a ‘self.’ An instance requires the delimits of time and without instances to mark the path of awareness, we are the essential, made wholly by birth and un… unshaped... When we return to the Force, what do we bring with us?’ “Death…” Anakin breathed… “Death th’… shape’r?” He tried to swallow to no avail and losing for a moment his forbearance, he felt the radiating plasma lacerations of the purifying Force, Vos drove into his body. …but the throbbing pain melted into blue green waves… A plaintive chorus of cries echoed in his head over the … ‘surf.’ Oblivious to the Doctor, Quinlan purged the last withered remnants cells and drew in a sharp breath, in low voice that didn’t sound like his own he offered, “Forgive me…” before he unleashed a full blast of lightning from the tips of his fingers directly into Vader’s torso. And so, the transition began…. Anakin thrashed. The Emperor felt the nano-second of the Ledaren’s hesitation and instinctively he drew deeper upon the Force, calling to him like water rushing down towards an open drain, but endurance had been eclipsed by stings so thick and insistent, so deep and radiating… “GAAAaaahhhHHH,” shouted Anakin, as his back arched harshly. “SON ‘F A …” he choked and gurgled under the mask of forced oxygen. Body trembling with the intense vault of the Force, Anakin knew in moments he would no longer be able process enough oxygen to utter sound, much less sustain conscious thought and he could feel a righteous determination from Vos, but Anakin’s thoughts now followed the voices that spoke of eons, of broken lines, prismic shatter points vectoring out across spinning galaxies, blood from blood, plasma like water, water like the Force. Quinlan now pumped the lightning like a generator charging an ion canon, and he cared little about the source of his strength. The dark side curled about his neck as a snake would while it whispered about the bones that remained in his fractured mental closet. So much anger! So much resentment! So much bitterness... Vos loathed the life he lived, but for once he used that for another’s advantage. Quin ignored the personal temptations that this kind of power carried, refusing to loosen his mental grip. Angry at himself for even thinking along those lines, Vos pressed on. “F…Fo…Forgive me, bruh-ther…” … too intense. /“Anakin!”/ The rain fell steadily, the flow erasing inexorably the trail of tears. “C…co…come in…” Mysterious, it was both connective and interstitial and exerted like the primordial matter which patterned itself upon the source, magnetic and even gravitational effects upon ordinary matter but unobserved but for its effects moved and moving alike, the cruel and compassionate. Other energies could be measured, metered, detected through their luminous brilliant and billowing clouds gas of every hew, expanding, breathing and scattering their light, radio emissions, and other means, but the Force was in the details, invisible to spectrometer and eye and yet it was everywhere! With this Force and of this Force, Anakin was brought into existence, though he did not understand the depth of it. Yet , with it now, he dissipated the incising bitter blue plasma which ripped through him now, built a threshold, nudged cells on nerve endings, halted the electrical relay and synaptic fluids, inhibited – first rejecting the pain. “”…As the shaper must shape, the potter’s wheel sings in every vessel he shapes… “”Your will IS the Force…” Quinlan’s eyes were wide and bright as he gave all that he had; the entirety that he was, to the healing of the only man that he ever called: ‘brother’. They were close to the summit, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue. Quin felt the Force welling-up inside the Dark Lord and he struggled to match Vader’s intensity. Sweat poured down Quinlan’s brow as the heat continued to rise, the Kiffu was now beyond his means. The divine spark cleaved the universe and unleashed both life and death and from the revealed code all possibilities erupted. The seed partners speaking as one, Jabbitha hummed, trimmed perfectly in the ‘wind.’ “Chart the course, parabola and apogee, for…” “…thou art the pilot, the boatman- the shadow of your fears. Only the light within dispels his false course…” chanted the doctor. Memories loosed from their tethers floated up brilliantly now, dancing amongst the scintillating clouds of molecules, atoms, particles, time losing its hold. “[i]Come in…Come into the vatten…’Mr. Affable’” she said, skirts hitched, plopping into the surf. Tall, suddenly warm, elegant, her black hair blown in the wind against that vast azure sky, she turned into the waves, that ridiculous wide-brimmed straw hat on, ribbons streaming. The wind blew… … silk crinoline, the V of her stomacher holding her chest taut and high and all that stiffened silk puffed on the water . She went out into waves, leaving her footprints to disappear in the wet sand. The wind blew… ‘Obstinately, did I stand there?!’ …that smile broke like the sun… "Oh...Den er så trevlig... the vatten... eh... water... den water er... eh... is ... ni...ze" I laughed, arms folded, correcting her stilted basic, “The water is nice!" "Yes, nice, den er Niiice!" “Careful…” I could see her in the current pulled swiftly toward the …nebula… In the waves she smiled up at me…"See?! Nice, ja? Let go… float…swim…[i]" * “NIIICEEE…aaaAAArgh….” Molita winced at the Re’s hoarse cry. “Steady,” the doctor murmured, his voice breaking and momentarily halting the ancient Kavalanic chant. The Ledaren’s face was barely visible, but is shone wet and gleaming in the shadows, though the room felt cold and Molita shivered as a gust swept the room. The bones, flesh, muscles and nerves in the Kiffu’s hands ached and burned from holding their position; from channeling of the Force as a human conduit, yet it was not enough. Realizing that he was about to fail, Vos completely let go. With teethe bared, his lips curled up in a snarl and a wild look in his now amber- reddened eyes, Vos zeroed in on Vader’s survival before he gave in to the power of his emotions to pump even harder, funneling every last bit of his strength into lightning. What wave might wash one shore in gentle lapping whelmed another. This was the nature of all things, beauty and horror, feast or famine, light and dark, neither inherently good or inherently bad in their part and even in destruction came life, like a fire burns away the undergrowth of a conifer forest to prime and burst the seeds from obdurate embrace of their winged cases, freeing the dormant neophyte though ancient in origin to growth – freeing cells from their mature mindset to rejuvenate, to be reformed as skin, or bone, or muscle, or brain, nerve…cast from the great wheel was the dross and wash of spent stars, regressed matter and lightened atoms, black holes and clutter…nebuli blossomed, and opening against the harshness, blooming against the proving wind of time-death’s proxy and against remorse and pain-death’s maidens, a singular flowering of the Force. Death was a natural part of the life cycle. Death and Life are twins. Yet, apart from the endless and cogent lessons of both experience and tutor, there was another lesson, a tacit one. Survive! And for reasons complex and buried, Vos would ensure, that Anakin survive. The cure might defeat that goal, but the malady certainly would. What he must do would certainly cause incredible pain, would kill others, but pain was a latent and primal incentive toward survival, and its summoning was the only way that Vos could save his friend. “YOU are the pilot…” hummed Jabbitha - the seed partners joined in the realization of the presence of the beautiful living ship that had long ago been shaped and sacrificed, a deep part of him he had believed dead and now found revenant inside him for the Force set in particular motion was never fixed, but alive and responsive no matter how great the amplitude or swift the wave, it too was subject to all life’s actions…death is transformed and transformation. Resistance yields to flexibility, fate to choice! Molita chanted shakily, “Brilliant, resonant and deep is thy birth, oh sojourner…” Dark the womb, dense the cloud of dust and ether in which stars formed! Hydrogen, carbon oxides, helium and silicate, heated within the redundant “green-ware” shell, an armor now manifest in its last function splitting and cracking like shale and ice shed from the mountain and within, collapsing, falling inward to the serenity of the dark from which no light escapes, the stuff of galaxies ignited! The vast smoothness congealed, divided and transformed, individuated and segmented. It was terrible to behold! The all serene became a roiling sea of movement, of gathering and effervescence, a cacophony of sound clashing and exploding, opening the mouth to gasp and utter unknown incantations, the conscious thought evolved and awareness told him he had seen this birth many times. The mind thundered with the roar of more stars than could be counted. “My son…my son…” These words were not spoken, but felt as though his marrow vibrated with the ‘utterance. “Born! The chaff winnowed and the slip thrown from the potter’s wheel; refined and purified, the false metal burned away...”The Ursean’s chant trailed off. “ We… ‘re… born...” Around the Doctor, the room seemed to move, spinning as with the galaxy and Molita struggled against the disorientation, inexorably drawn toward the epicenter of the Force event. The walls bowing or his sight becoming convex, the doctor looked down to his patient in alarm. Lesions began to appear in curious marks on the Re’s naked body as the ‘dumb’ tissue burned away. The scar over his right eye glistened with dark blood, a noticeable bleeding from his left ankle too. From the young Re’s open mouth, viscous scarlet bubbled. On closer inspection, it seemed every scar the Re had incurred was opening before the Doctor’s eyes. Molita wept for Ursa and lowered the rebreather. It was no longer of use. His shoulders slumped. What bloody price had they paid! As if awakening, the knitted strands of code uncoiled. The touch of cold fire urged them and in furious foment, the blastemas grew, and “falling inward”, impelled, the cells hearkened to the shaping, skin to skin, bone to bone, thin and delicate, alveoli swelled with air. Molita watched in wide-eyed horror as the metal plate at the end of the Re’s arm strained and heaved; filaments and electrodes tearing away with a slipping, seething slurp and the metal plate shot across the room. The Re’s body leaped from the floor so filled with the Force lightning the Ledaren drove into the young Emperor, the magnet melting and expelled leaving the fizzing dark meaty hole below it, now bubbling with an inner heat. “STOP! STOP! YOU ARE KILLING HIM,” yelled Molita. Reaching out, he instinctively leaned across the Re and stricken, he was thrown with a white/blue searing lance to the floor some 3 meters back and lay there steaming. The mind freed did not feel time. Anakin touched the nebulae, his hand sweeping stars. At the center there was no time... Buoyed in the flow, he breathed and was filled. He thought and it was so. Cells congealed. The hue of the Force was not light, it was not shadow. Quinlan knew that his end was fast approaching, for he was well beyond his limits. With one last grunt, he summoned what little reserve he had left and pumped one last torrent of the unnaturally-summoned current into Vader’s chest cavity. The room brightened with the purple-blue plasma as suddenly, the body reflected the force lightening and it traveled back along the still lingering lines of “aftersight” it left in the dark to strike Vos, the windows of the large room opening suddenly to alarms giving vent to the white purple force manifestation that seemed to multiply and leap wildly joined from without by a dramatic electrical display that lit the clouds for miles around. Vos, unprepared, gasped as he tried to rise, dark coils of hair steaming, his body loosed of its tension, he was snatched, flown up and suspended as if held motionless for a moment, back arched and arms spread wide. Then the air grew silent as only the rain splattered softly, the lancing plasma retracted and drawn in, vanishing, letting loose the unconscious Master and he fell like a rag animal, crumpled, the alarms silenced, lying chest-down on the shiny cold floor, his face in repose as if he slept. Molita wasn’t certain as he pressed himself up from the marble only long enough to see the Ledaren fall hard to the stone beneath them and he thought he heard the Ledaren’s hands singe when they touched the cool floor. * Everywhere, lightning rods sticking out like whiskers from around the tall towers of the Embassy and Senate districts collected the energy bolts that had riven the skies and guided them to internal transformers to dilute to a level the collectors could receive and convert for storage. Surges caused the lights to flicker in even the newest and well equipped towers. Colton hurried toward the Royal Apartments through the strobed corridor with a detail of black guards and USF Embassy police. Molita lay upon the floor and slowly closed his eyes to the white light that flooded his vision, and even as he lost consciousness, his closed eyes sought relief from the blinding aura which enwrapped the Re. The only witnesses remaining could not compute the event revealed to their photoreceptors and they stood motionless, without comment or impetus to move. A flame shape, white, warm and liquid shimmered in reflected brilliance on two twin sets of dark orbs; the patient seemed to have immolated and the two medi-droids were fixed at the perimeter of the circle of leaping light. Yet, after lingering over both fallen forms to either of its sides, the figure rose, stood erect and walked, the form of a human beneath the molten flame which now turned to swirling wisps of brilliantly colored clouds, purple, azure, fuchsia, orange and silver. The man grasped a billowing gold silk panel of draped curtain and pulled it down, wrapping it loosely about his hips, trailing behind him as he stepped out into the rain beyond the open casements. Eyes cast beyond the newly glowing Senate to the north east, ”The Prisoner of Coruscant” stood and rested his gaze upon the white spectre beyond the dark pinnacle of Lord Sidious’ folly, the wind whipping and blowing rain across the marble floor of the Ursean Chamber. TAG: Brother Vos, Ahsoka, Molita, Colton and Ursean Embassy, Alia, Sarcev Quest, surrounding residential and business towers and open -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/The_Saga/b10476/17959370/p1 The Flower of Bast: personal journals of LDV ~\| Acroama, LD, SDO\|~ o[]\|\|]ooooooooo[0]\|\|[]{ "It's a sin to kill a Mockingbird!"
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pashatemur Registered: Jun '04	Date Posted: 8/1 12:16pm Subject: The Galaxy at War Part III: Schism of the Sith
	OOC: MEMO FROM THE GM "Emergency, emergency! Everybody to get from street," - The Russian Are Coming SERIOUSLY, DO NOT PANIC! This thread is locked in preparation of the new installment in the GAW series opening Wednesday a week, THE GALAXY AT WAR IV: Prisoner of Coruscant. Take a vacation, relax and prepare your opening post. Remember you will need to inform the readers of your plots and character's past exploits and current situation, however brief. I look forward all of your posts and if you have any questions, please send them to me via pm. Take care, Pash -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/The_Saga/b10476/17959370/p1 The Flower of Bast: personal journals of LDV ~\| Acroama, LD, SDO\|~ o[]\|\|]ooooooooo[0]\|\|[]{ "It's a sin to kill a Mockingbird!"
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