Shifting his gaze from the circling rock, to the approaching figures on the horizon, Faltonni heard Dellos. "I don't think they've found the ship or they'd have hit it by now! What do we do, Major?" Instinct and training took over, shifting all doubt to a small corner of his mind, and locking it away. "Joahnis! Trigger that detpack, now!" Joahnis shifted the weight of his weapon to his left hand, then pulled the firing detonator from his webbing. Depressing his thumb, he set the small explosive off. The satisfying boom in the distance brought a slight smile to his face. One job done. "Coynyrs - take that thing out! Pholie - supression fire on whatever they are!" Two of his troops nodded - Coynyrs laid his T-21 down and pulled the Finbat launcher from his back, bracing it on his shoulder. Pholie, the squad sniper, dropped to one knee and activated the holorecorder on his sniper scope. Raising his rifle to firing position, he took aim at the closest figure. "What the kriff?" he muttered, as the figures resolved themselves. They were clearly humanoid, but . . . well, wrong. Their armour looked organic, and they carried strange weapons that seemed to move on their own. And their faces . . . Pholie cleared his thoughts. Just another target, no matter how strange they look. As Coynyrs and Pholie took position, Faltonni switch his comm frequency. "Natti!" he yelled into the link. "I need a dust-off under fire, right now!" The reply was tinny in his ear. "Monitoring the situation. Moving in, weapons hot." Glancing up, Faltonni saw the ice start to kick up from the direction of the gunship, indicating NAtti coming in on a low-altitude run. From behind him came the first shots from Pholie's LD-1 sniper rifle, punctuated by the roar of the missile launched towards the circling presence. He watched the flight of the missile as it sped away, creeping closer to its target.
IC: Commissioner Pax Dellos, Helska, Surface Chaos. The heavy blaster was deep and penetrating, thundering its fire across the nascent battlefield -- rapid shots of blood red energy racing out to meet an unknown enemy. Pax was not terrified, he had no time to be. He only the sense that death was racing towards him and Alpha Squad across the ice fields of Helska. Helska. What a strange planet to encounter such a threat. It was all... just beyond strange. Pax had never seen anything like it. The only thing grounding him was the professional response of Alpha Squad. Alliance heroes, one of the themes that had been recently passing through Pax's mind. These were Alliance heroes. Corporal Pholie was attempting to pick off some of the horde approaching the squad, but with little luck. His shots were well aimed, but the armor of the enemy seemed to be incredibly powerful. After several shots, one of them finally fell. Finally. So many shots at one target. These were no pirates. Not to mention pirates did not normally fly comets and build secret asteroid bases out of extragalactic material. Pax ducked slightly as missiles took off and the T-21 began firing at the flying piece of rock. He noticed an odd distortion. "Tractor beam..." Pax said, remembering a neat trick he had seen with missiles and tractor beams, but then the lasers also began to bend and distort and... disappear. "This isn't right." The missiles and lasers just stopped, pulling into a point below the craft and then to the side. It could shift? "Major, just what in the hell is that," Pax yelled out, noting all of the men's heads were trained intently on the action, recording it for further analysis. Thankfully. Pax could easily imagine quite a few briefings on this encounter. It was fantasy made into reality. Suddenly, a bit of craggy rock blasted red hot out of the slowly landing vessel. Pax would have to review the holodata, but it had seemed like Coynyrs' T-21 had been jostled by one of the men and it had shifted violently to the right. "I don't care!" Pax shouted, checking his data package to ensure that all of the information was being stored correctly. Another look toward the approaching mob. No less than half a kilometer away now. Then, finally, the wind picked up as the LAAT/i sneaked around the comet-ship which was now only a few meters off of the ground. A opening appeared and more of the humanoid creatures began to pour out, four hundred meters from the squad. TAG: cavalier_one
Had he really seen that? Had he really seen lasers and missiles simply disappear as they had neared that - for lack of a better word - rock? Of course, it wasn't really a rock. It moved like a starfighter, hunted like a predator. And now, it was landing. As it settled, a fissure appeared in the side. Faltonni noted that the hull of the ship seemed alive somehow, and that the hatch had blended perfectly with the rest of the vessel. Still, he wasn't there to compare the aesthetics of starship design. "Squad! Concentrate fire!" he ordered, using hand signals to indicate the opening fissure. Four hundred meters away, he mused. Safe enough for grenades. "Grenades!" Almost as one, the squad cocked the micro-grenade launchers attached to their rifles, and brought them to bear on the opening just as more of the strange, humanoid aliens emerged. "Fire in the hole!" Six loud booms echoed across the icy plains and the micro-grenades launched, heading directly for the centre of the alien formation, followed by the unmistakable sound of blasters set to kill. Coynyrs, possessing no micro-grenade launcher on is weapon, dropped to a prone position and opened up with the T-21, raking it back and forth across the enemy. Pholie remained at his post, targeting the aliens coming at them from further away, slowly getting more annoyed at the amount of shots they seemed to shrug off. In Faltonni's ear piece, he heard a small crackle, then Natti's voice. "Stand by, Major; gunners, open fire." Almost immediately, the sound of his blaster rifle was drowned out by the roar of the gunship's weapons opening up, targeting the landed rock and her complement of strange warriors. The gunship roared in, then began to slow and settle on its repulsors. Faltonni shouted into the comm. "Squad! Prepare to fall back!"
Class: Noble, Soldier, and Scoundrel Name: Jace Halycron Nickname: 'Lightning Prince' Gender: Male Age: 28 Species: Human Homeworld: Toprawa Spoken Language: Basic Other Languages: Many Appearance ---Height: 6'1" ---Eye Color: Green ---Hair Color: Brown ---Skin Color: Caucasian ---Clothing: Civilian attire: Brown trousers, offwhite tunic, blue-gray spacer's jacket; Antarian Rangers' armor: flat gray flightsuit, green with gold trim breastplate, similarly colored cloak; Prince's Garb: white trousers, dark green, gold-trimmed, dress jacket, military medals, gold shoulder epaulets. ---Other: Polished knee-highs throughout, gunbelt, ceremonial vibrosword. Personality: Existential-nihilist, a sufferer of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder over the death of his family at age 14, depressed (almost soley experiences moods of severe/intense melancholia) but hides it well, finds himself lost in a universe he can't control, wants to give up but lacks the resolve to end his own life or take action, cold and calculating, very likely disturbed. The potential exists for other undiagnosed psychological disorders resulting from either trauma, past experiences, or medical issues. Habits: Minutely paranoid, obsessed with details and knowing as much as he can about any situation (almost randomly), can freely psycho-analyze himself/others and often does, and partakes too freely with the grain alcohol. Likes: Alcohol, women whose names he won't remember (but always does), thrill-seeking adventures, rock-climbing, exercise, and shockball. Dislikes: Doctors, hospitals, bacta, democracy, Talents: Diplomacy, tactics & strategem, psychology, Weakness: PTSD, depression, bad knee from teenage years, (will develop overprotectivity of new relationships). Limitations: No force sensitivity, depression, being only human... Racial Attributes: Plain Jane human-type. Affiliation: Toprawan Alliance ---Rank: Prince (simultaneously holds the ranks of Commander-in-Chief and Chief of State) ---Branch: The Honorable House of Halycron ---Station: Caen Palace, Talya, Toprawa. ---Unit: Victory-class Star Destroyer Rebirth ---Position: Flag Officer ---Primary Weapons: Modified Blastech DH-17 blaster pistols, ceremonial vibrosword, vibroblade in arm sheath, and boot knife. Personal Ship ---Name: Earthshatter ---Model: Heavily modified Z-95 Headhunter ---Accessories: Reinforced armor, shielding, overhauled power generator, hyperdrive. The Force ---Yes or No?: No. Background: At an early age, as far back as Jace could remember, he'd been different. His parents had been the prim-and-proper King and Queen of Toprawa, his father expanding their alliance outside of the Toprawa System. At age 14, the Halycron family had been staying on Dantooine at a hunting lodge, when the facility had been overrun by two warring Dantari clans. Nearly everyone involved in the tragedy, including his brother and parents, were killed. For whatever reason, the Dantari chieftain of the Planeswind clan took the Halycron youth and raised him. At age 17, Jace Halycron went on a walkabout and never returned. Hardened to the elements, 18 year old Jace Halycron appeared on Chandrila. There he was identified by his lost grandmother. She died a mere 3 weeks after meeting her grandson. Jace served in the Chandrilan Police Service for a period of 3 years, at which time he was voluntarily discharged. He moved to Corellia, where he spent time in the Corellian Army and rose to the rank of Sergeant. After the devastation of Toprawa before the Battle of Yavin, Jace was reported as 'Released From Official Obligations & Duties' by the Corellian Military, and returned home to Toprawa. With the death of Emperor Palpatine and coronation of Emperor Iaius Jello I, the terraforming of Toprawa began and the rebuilding process began. By 25, Jace was working discretely as a civilian employee for a Peace Organization involved in the terraforming project and attended the rebuilt Royal Toprawa University and attained a degree in Psychology. During an accident, his blood was tested for contamination and somehow was tested against his dead parents. The medic found out he was the lost heir and announced it to the world. The resulting uproar had the lost Toprawans demanding he ascend the throne and reclaim his birthright. Unable to say no, he did so. A few years later, he met a local girl and began dating. When she was pregnant with Jace's child, they made plans to be married. Only two months later, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness and was given a month to live. Only 6 months into the pregnancy, there was little hope for mother or child. Jace married her anyways, more out of comfort for the dying woman than for himself. In one tragic morning, an already lonely man aged 26, lost his wife and child. After that, Jace was never the same. He turned to alcohol and an endless line of girls who he tried to forget, but never could... Caen Emerald, Talya, Toprawa Absent-mindedly scratching the itchy false-beard he wore, Jace Halycron, the reagent of Toprawa, stared down at the amber liquid in front of him. The tumbler was warm; who knew how long he'd been just staring at the glass. Covering a cough with the sleeve of his jacket, he raised the tumbler and took a long chug of the brandy. Savoring the liquid warmth down his throat, Jace closed his eyes. "Liquid replacement for the warmth I've not felt in years..." he remarked to no one in particular. If his family had been around to see him, there would have been an uproar. But as it were, he'd skilled himself in disguise and could easily hide away when he had no desire to be seen. Now was one of those times. And to be quite honest with himself, he didn't much care what anyone though. He had his own suspicians... since she died, since they died, since the accident, he'd never felt the same. Sometimes he'd be hit with a profound feeling of loneliness, of angst, the uncontrollable urge to consume as much alcohol as he could. Random trysts with random women never pulled the pain. He'd considered seeing a doctor, but spat on that idea harshly. If he was suffering from something, it had better kill him, because otherwise, too damn bad. Every now and then, while drinking or staring out at the night sky from his private apartment or rooms at the palace, he'd get philosophical. He'd completely rejected any notions of religion, of any meaning to the galaxy. As far as Jace Halycron was concerned, there was one person in the galaxy to worry about, and that person was Jace Halycron. While he prided himself on the ability to detractedly view the world and others and himself, he never bothered trying to see the world from others' perspectives. His worldly experience was his alone, and it really was alone. The only thing he could do was make his life a day at the time. With a sour look, Jace surveyed the other bar occupants. Young couples, working men, single men and women of all sorts... each was drinking and being marry. From his darkened booth Jace's eye caught one particular single. She had curly blonde hair, breast-length, full red lips, the kind he could kiss all night and into the morning. She turned a bit and he noticed she had framed her pretty face with pink locks. He realized she couldn't be older than 19 and instantly threw the idea from his mind. His intent game of search and destroy continued for another hour, as he, and everyone, else got drunker. Jace was just about to call his search quits and head back to the apartment he kept for nights like this - nights he couldn't return to Caen Palace and be Prince of all Toprawa - when one of the Emerald's waitresses appeared near his booth and blocked his exit. "Hey stranger," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Mind if I sit?" Jace blinked a few times, before flopping unceremoniously back into his booth. The waitress sat opposite to him and flashed another smile. "Knock yerself out," Jace mumbled in reply. She leaned forward and whispered with a conspiracy tone, "I know who you are." "Do you now?" he chuckled. "And who is that?" "What are you doing down here, Your Majesty? This is hardly the safest section of the city..." Jace coughed and sputtered, faking more drunkeness than he really had. "I'm no 'majesty,'" he admitted gruffly. "If I was, I could afford a better drink than this." That damnable smile was back. "I suppose so. But I know you are who you are, sir." "Everyone is who they are, are they not?" This was turning into a game he really didn't have the patience for. And honestly, if she was playing some cat-and-mouse game, he'd lost all desire and had every intention of passing out that night alone. "Look, I have to go," he began to rise. "Just stay for a bit longer," she offered. "I think we could both use the company." Jace grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. They talked for a few minutes more - well, she talked more than he did, Jace barely listening to whatever she had to say. His drunken stupor had long-ago warn off and the prince was feeling too sober for his own liking. Without a word, he slipped out of the booth, stood, and marched out the door. The waitress stood, watching him leave. Her smile inverted, her lips twisted into a frown. The sparkle from her eyes faded; the kind of look you get when someone rejects you the most basic of levels. She'd only wanted to offer conversation, nothing more. He'd looked lonely. Truth be told, so was she. His abrupt dismissal hurt her, more than she would have thought... "I'm Annissya, by the way," she whispered sullenly. "Your secret is safe with me." Annissya swept atear away from her eye. TAG: Me
Princess Arya Padmé Jello
Hyperspace Stygius sat cross-legged on the floor of his stolen vessel, the cargo room was cold and dark save for a few glowing lights from a door control panel. The room was devoid of any of the previous occupants belongings, making the large chamber seem more vast than it was. The slow and deep breaths of the Sith Lord seemed louder as the man meditated on the location of his next desire. Darkside energies surrounded him and penetrated him as he stretched out into the Force, calling upon it and molding it to the purpose that he demanded of it. The ancient Dark Lord lowered his raised palms to his knees as he slipped into a meditative trance. He saw what he was looking for. Encased in a transparent plexiglass case, resting on a plush velvet red pillow were two black cylinders. One was shorter than the other and less complicated looking than its longer companion. The smaller one had red piping around the grip while its enclosed end sharpened to a bladed point, but just at the hilt was a small red crystal embedded. The longer cylinder had six claw-like protrusions reaching out inward from the open end of the shaft. Studded down its sides were red crystals that ended with a larger, paler crystal. It had not been easy to envision his lightsabers. With his mysterious loss of strength in the Force, he found it difficult to foresee into the present and imagined if he tried to see the future he would see nothing. But he had succeeded in what he wanted. Now all he had to do was find clues as to where his lightsabers were located. Self-consciously aware of his weakness, he carefully tried to pull back to see a larger view of the area around his weapons. Instead he saw them fade from his mind and he thought he was losing his concentration. Focusing more to regain the image and finding that he could not, he did not realize what was happening until it was thrusted into his face... Somewhere... sometime... The pristine marble walls and columns of the expansive hallway were impressive but went unnoticed to the two occupants casually walking down its length. Along the columns and walls at intervels and at attention were erect, crimson armored men and women. They all wore the same red chest and shoulder plates with a flowing black cape that matched the color of their leather padded armor. Dangling at each of their belts were impersonalized silver cylinders. These guardians paid no heed to the two people but were well aware of their presence in the hall. "The Force is more than this mortal misconceptions of light and dark, my apprentice," spoke the black robed figure on the right of a beautiful young woman. He wore over his robes a hooded cloak that had a blood-red trim along the hem. His face could not be seen behind the dark mesh mask. But his demenour spoke of a powerful and dark presence not to be trifeled with. "It is not always so easy to tell," the new Empress said. "Mortal emotions have a way of coloring people's perceptions. It makes one think that whatever is in their own mind must be reflected in the rest of reality as well. It is a vanity." She spoke softly, but with a firm tone of voice. She seemed to be speaking from a great distance away, but that was just a function of her tone. Her face was covered with a cowl, but her marble-like visage peered out of it. Her robes were nondescript black Sith garments, nondescript except for the golden clasp of her cloak and the hit of golden shoulder paldrons and shin armor underneath the cloak. "Emotions dictate our actions. We are responsible for what we do, not the Force," he replied. "The Force offers us choices and the decision to walk down a path that which appears to others as the Darkside is of our own. If you were to choose to execute scores of dozens of prisoners of war and then later spared the lives of the protestors mixed in with the crowd outside; could you call your actions evil?" "That would depend on who you were asking. Different people have different answers, which is why the terms good and evil have no relevance." "I believe the Jedi are fond of a saying with the same meaning." He quoted, "From a certain point of view." He sliced the air short and sharply with a gloved hand in disapproval. "It does not matter what others believe. What matters is what you believe." He held off her reply with a gesture and continued. "But lets assume, for one moment, that what you hypothetically had done was of the Darkside of the Force. If so, then why did you spare lives?" "To suit your own purpose." "Exactly. You made a decision unbecoming of a darksider. To the Jedi a darksider would have chosen to kill those protestors and set an example," her Sith Master replied plainly. "According to the Jedi, the Darkside of the Force is chaotic, destructive, and corrupting. What they have described is the true form of the Force." He paused for a moment to stretch out his hand toward the garden. A small, plump fruit floated toward him and to rest onto his outstretched palm. "Let's say that this fruit is the Force," he instructed. "It's hard skin is the barrier that prevents us from feeling the full power of the Force. If I were to peel away at the outer skin I would be exposing a power so great that it would be nearly impossible to comprehend and everything that felt it would be driven insane. The Jedi have tried to explain this power in terms we can understand but they could not comprehend it without adding our emotions and actions to their philosophy. And thus the Light and Dark theory is born." "How does one safely tap into the Force without these emotional pitfalls?" "You control your emotions but you do not suppress them like the Jedi would. It takes millenia to master the Force on that scale... No," he said sternly as an afterthought. "If you tried you would only lose yourself and suffer the same curse that plagues me. However..." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I made the mistake of keeping myself fully open to the Force and have never been able to close pandora's box since..." The Sith Lord lifted his head and rose to his feet, unsetteled by the vision. It had been several millenia since he had believed in that old philosophy so why is the Force showing it to him? And why was he shown a vision that he has no intention of every allowing to happen. Uncertainty creeped into his mind as he considered what the Force wanted and was telling him. Stygius exited the cargo hold for warmer parts of the ship, trying to forget the vision and concentrating more on his next course of action. Before the interruption by the Force, he had discerned the general location of his lightsabers. Taris. Unbeknownst to him, a similiar vision was being seen by another far away.
Upper City, Taris He could feel them. They were somewhere near, somewhere located on the surface of this wretched city planet. Where exactly he could not tell. He did not want to go wander this city aimlessly looking for what he sought. He knew the history of this world and its past dealings with the Sith. If today's Tarisans bode any hatred for his kind, he would most certainly expect a very cold welcome. That is why he was taking the precaution to only venture out from his ship at night. It was not as if he was afraid of the locals, it was more like he did not want have to deal with such obstacles. He knew he could handle them and any security personnel that tried to dispose of him. He handled the last encounter perfectly well. He just did not want to have to go through it again and attract the attention of the Jedi Princess's guardians. If there was one good thing that came out of Darth Bane's philosophy for the Sith, it was stealth and secrecy. So when nightfall finally came, Darth Stygius departed from his ship and made his way through the city in the direction he felt his lightsabers were located.
HIH Princess Arya Padmé Jello
Galactic Emperor Iaius I The Emperor closely scrutinized the straight-talking finiancier. He had the temerity to assume that a soldier such as himself would be averse to the cermonial and civilized smalltalk that often prefaced any discussion. This was not the case, but the Emperor would excuse it if this individual proved to be of more use than the flatterers and bootlickers who normally gravitated to the Court. If, that was to say, he was correct--for being mistaken would carry a grave penalty for presumption. "Valued servant, your words grieve us. We do not typically hear such accusatory words concerning our advisors and ministers of state. Do kindly explain how we have been mislead, sir." The words were solemn and ceremonial, with little hints of any sort of veiled threat. That was entirely unnecessary and would have been rather childish. It was the dignified courtesy behind them that left the threat clear enough.
