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Post by Shaman Anaxilea on Feb 26, 2013 22:54:02 GMT -8
Corellia was the capital planet of the Corellian system, which included Selonia, Drall, Tralus, and Talus.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 27, 2013 19:32:18 GMT -8
CDF Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer, The Eurybia - Bridge
CDF Maj Gen Lilia Herriton looks away from the forward viewport, out of which she had been watching the approach of the trio of XJ7's returning from their uneventful CAP, and nods to her XO as she takes the datapad the female Togruta holds out to her and reads the latest reports from the other ships in the CDF fleet; reports that reveal the Eurybia's sister ships have been experiencing patrols every bit as routine. Handing the datapad back to her XO, Lilia muses that, while things have been routine, the other ships of the fleet have more likely than not been just as busy as the Eurybia; drilling tirelessly in order to ensure that newer crew members, replacing the losses suffered in a conflict with the NOE not so long ago, are quickly acclimated to their duties and stations.
Returning to her command chair after ordering her helmsman to set out ahead two thirds for their next patrol route, Lilia sits and pensively rests a hand beneath her chin; reflecting that, the past few uneventful weeks notwithstanding, it will most likely be some time before the CDF fleets allow themselves to feel any sense of ease.
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Post by Pearce Zigher on Jun 7, 2013 16:24:31 GMT -8
The Drunken Sparrow dropped out of hypersapce and hung over Corellia. It was the first time the young man had been back since he was twelve and he was sure quite a bit had changed. But also on his mind was his favorite teachers departure from the order. He gave off a light huff as he stared down at the planet while his two droids took care of everything.
It wasn't that Ralph didn't know how to fly or anything, he just simply wasn't feeling up to it. Infact, the young man had barely felt up to anything having barely eaten or slept during transit. Soon though, Ralph would have a new home and be able to focus on his training and getting things back on track. He cracked the faintest of smiles as the ship made its way to the academy.
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Ael Jade
The Jedi Order - Corellian Jedi Academy
Posts: 1,544 
Affiliation: Corellian Jedi Order
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Post by Ael Jade on Jun 23, 2013 21:23:11 GMT -8
As soon as it was safely out of Corellia's gravity well a Z-95 disappeared into space as its modified hyperdrive was engaged.
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Post by Celia Oshala on Jul 9, 2013 17:09:27 GMT -8
The pilot gently shakes me awake. I swing my legs over the side of my bunk and sit up as she informs me that we're about to come out of hyperspace. I dress hurriedly and gather the supplies I picked up at the Royal City Spaceport on Kashyyyk. I'm glad to be returning to Corellia; it's only been a few weeks since I left, but it feels like months. My true purpose awaits on Coruscant, but there's something I have to do here first. I gather my things and make my way to the cockpit to watch our descent through the viewscreen.
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Liam Blood
Member
Posts: 102 
Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 18, 2013 2:28:32 GMT -8
Victory II Star Destroyer Bounty - Corellian Space
Commander Liam Blood muttered to himself as he paced the observation platform on the main bridge of the Bounty. Outside, starlines flared into points as the ship slowed to sublight speed to approach the Corellian System. His crew pretended to ignore their commander's eccentricities as they busied themselves with the tasks necessary to operate a capital ship.
Her IFF code was the genuine article. The ship was registered to Sons of Bounty Adventure Tours and her home port read as Nar Shaddaa. Not the most reputable home port, but one of the cheapest. Her visible armaments were far less than the stock military vessel, complying with the regulations of most systems regarding armed civilian vessels. In reality she was much closer to spec than she appeared, work had gone into masking turbolaser cannons and torpedo tubes to hide them from all but a close visual inspection, or if they were powered up.
The Bounty transmitted her non-hostile intentions to system control, and requested a freedom of navigation for the system for a period of no longer than one standard galactic month. This was, Liam had decided, more than enough time to conduct their business in the system. Having a mobile base of operations, far from the prying eyes of CorSec, had to be worth a few credits to the underworld players in-system, and a month was enough time for them to make a tidy profit, not long enough for anyone to plan a proper attack on the Bounty.
Caesar Orkut, a Mandalorian in gold plate armor, entered the bridge and walked over to Liam, letting out a loud belch to announce himself. Right then. We laying siege to Selonia, or annexing Drall?
Liam grinned, his reverie broken, and his optimistic manner returning. No, Captain, we're here to make some new friends. You're here to make sure they behave themselves. If they prove unwilling to work with us, you can educate them on some of the finer points of Mandalorian culture, as I know your people are so fond of doing.
Caesar's response was to square his shoulders and slam an armored gauntlet against his breastplate. Liam nodded. Mandalorians were a proud people. He continued Take Borris Kaf, Elerendi the Wookiee, and Thazznzsz the Verpine with your squad. Let Kaf do the talking, it's what he's good at.
Borris Kaf was a lawyer who'd made millions defending rich criminals on Coruscant before he'd had to skip planet to avoid the wrath of a client he hadn't quite kept out of prison. Elerendi was a Wookiee medic with some Force sensitivity, very good at detecting deception, plus the added bonus of the Wookiees' well known strength, temper, and code of honor. Thazznzsz (most of the SoBs pronounced it Thazz) was the most brilliant mechanic and technician Liam had ever seen, able to work with minimal parts and near-destroyed equipment, and restore it to better than normal functioning. He was also adept at mapping security and surveillance systems, and was the team's counterintelligence expert. These three would handle the technical aspects of the mission, letting the five Mandos in Caesar's squad handle physical security.
Caesar nodded again and turned, heading for the turbolift. Liam called after him. No disintegrations!
Caesar's parting response was a raised middle finger salute as the doors closed on him.
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Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 23, 2013 14:21:12 GMT -8
The passenger liner 'Iachys', a Heraklon-class transport swathed in a green and gray paint scheme, dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of Corellia's orbit. After a brief moment of inactivity its engines flared to life and the bulky craft lurched forward on a path to the planet's atmosphere.
[/ul][/ul][/ul] The lighting in his cabin was dim, but despite the murky shadows the room's rather spartan furnishings were still plainly visible: a single cot with a thin mattress, crammed into the corner; a small, spindly desk with a reading lamp and a few battered datapads scattered atop it; and a single, straight backed chair, made of the same flimsy-looking wood as the desk, set in the opposite corner as the bed. The low thrum of the ship's engines reverberated through the cabin, punctuated every so often by the slow, shrill cry of metal scraping against metal. Faust hummed under his breath as he dragged the whetstone along the length of his beskad's edge, an old battle hymn of Kad Harangir. Trull had taught it to him long ago, when he'd first joined the Priesthood. Those were bloody days- the best kind- and his memories of them were painted in vivid strokes. Were that he could feel the older Priest's stern but comforting hand on his shoulder now, he thought the unrest in his heart might be put somewhat at ease. Alas, Trull had taken his Shields and gone off in search of the Jetaii at the Mandalore's behest. He would have to make due without his elder's guidance. [/i][/font] [/color][/ul][/ul] Faust stared at the intercom for a long moment after the pilot's voice was replaced by a brief burst of static. Then, running a hand across his flayed lips to smudge away some of the blood, he stood and began packing up his belongings as per the announcement's suggestion. It took no more than a few minutes to throw his two changes of clothes- one cannot wear armor all the time, after all- his comlink, and a few other personal items into his duffel bag. After that it was just a matter waiting.
He sat on his cot with his luggage across his knees as the vessel descended toward the planet.[/font]
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Liam Blood
Member
Posts: 102
Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Sept 30, 2013 10:54:47 GMT -8
The shuttle carrying Liam and the Mandalorians was met in Corellia's atmosphere by four TIE fighters flown by Sons pilots, and escorted to the Victory-Class Bounty's main hangar. The escort was purely for show, there were no threats detected anywhere in-system. In a very short time, the shuttle was aboard, her passengers free to disembark and explore the heavily refitted vessel.
Once aboard, Liam heads down to the deck, and is met by one of the intelligence staff, a human male from Commenor, Mic Philer. The man handed Liam a datapad, which he looked over for a few seconds, then authorized with a thumbprint and retina scan. This done, Philer turned and headed off into a corridor.
Liam had authorized a detention order for one Jolstra Bax, team leader. The man responsible for the Hutt situation. He debated how much to reveal to his new associates, but figured he had nothing to gain by hiding information. What he did have to decide was whether to negotiate. That might be a moot point depending on which Hutt was in power at the present moment, they might not be interested in talking. In which case their next destination of Nar Shaddaa might not be the wisest locale to hang around. Kriff it, thought Liam, if they try anything, these two will carve a wide swathe through their hirelings. I won't provoke these Hutts further, he resolved, but I'll kriffing well annihilate them if they force me.
Gentlemen, i've reserved you each quarters on the officer's deck. If you'll come with me. We'll be jumping out very soon. As if the ship had ears, the deck noticeably hummed and vibrated as the ship's massive reactor went to full power, and the giant engines thrust the dagger shaped capital ship forward into a hyperspace runup. Liam headed for a turbolift, while the protocol droid remained with the other SoB crew under Gerlani, unloading the limited cargo.
He figured the Mandos might like a look around the ship they'd be based out of. With comfortable well-appointed quarters, plenty of rec areas, even a small casino, marketplace, armory, and every convenience you would expect to find on a well-to-do Core world, Bounty was set up inside to be a home away from home for her Sons. Mobile base, shop, training facility, barracks, starport and trading outpost all in one star destroyer shaped package.
You're welcome to explore the ship as you like, i've given you both authorization for everything but the engine spaces. I dont even have access there, the engineers being that way about things. Anything else you need while you're here can be requisitioned via your quarters.
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Darian Beviin
Member
Posts: 206
Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Darian Beviin on Sept 30, 2013 12:25:18 GMT -8
Darian nodded his silent approval at the accommodations Liam described, the unspoken detailing that they needed no more or less than that blatant. He glanced sidelong at Faust, and then, as they walked through the Bounty, spun the tomahawk lazily around his hand, and over his fingers in a display of deadly grace. "That will suffice, Blood. Call on us if there's anything you require prior to heading out. I need to have words with my subordinate."
Reaching down, the High Priest loosened his metal leggings, and they clattered to the floor, revealing dark colored cloth breeches. As he stood up straight, he kicked the armor out of his way, and gazed up at Faust. "Gar atiniir te'ba'jur," he said in earnest, considering the way the youth held himself, indeed, and how he chose to speak and be cautious, "dinuir'ni meg gar'cuyi ru'hibirar."
Gesturing toward an empty area of the deck, Darian smirked. More than enough room for a quick brawl. "Nayc besbe'trayce. Nu'ke cuyi'naast'e, elek? Val'ganar mhi verborir, gar'kar'taylir."
Stuffing Gorehound back into its resting place, Darian cracked his knuckles.
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Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 1, 2013 6:06:16 GMT -8
Faust's gaze flicked about restlessly as the trio disembarked the shuttle; while he'd been aboard ships of a similar size and even a few larger, a Victory-class was not among them. The Priest wasn't much for naval battles or troop coordinations- he preferred his part in the battle to be rather localized, as it were- but he thought this Destroyer could cause considerable damage, under the command of someone competent. The Destroyer God did not limit his blessings to soldiers with kads, after all. The officers found their glory, too.
He listened with half an ear to Liam's description as they stalked across the hangar bay; to be honest, he only understood one word out of five. Frowning, Faust considered the possibility that learning Basic would be beneficial. It would certainly ease his dealings with aruetii. The Priest grinned: why would he want that? Besides, Darian would relay to him any information that he needed. When the bigger man waved Liam off and turned to him, that's exactly what Faust assumed him to be doing. Instead, his words stopped the youth cold.
"Ni ganar munit ru parer bah troan gar, alor." He said finally.
Reaching up, he unclasped the collar of his worn traveling cloak and let the material slither to the ground in a pile. Next he went to work on the straps of his bracers, loosening and then removing them with practiced ease. The pieces of dull, scarred metal landed atop the cloak with a series of loud clanks that echoed through the hangar. Faust reflected silently that the sound had a sort of implied finality to it. However this turned out, a major chapter of his life would be over. Absentmindedly rubbing his wrists, Faust tapped his breastplate in question, wondering if Darian wished it removed.
"Kote bal kot cuyir Kad'b, vod."
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Post by Benjamin 'Smitty' Smith on Oct 1, 2013 8:57:17 GMT -8
a YU-410 light freighter exits hyperspace and slowly, so as not to be considered armed and dangerous, though she most certainly was, was moved into a geosynchronous orbit and Ben commed down his peaceful intentions of only remaining in orbit while his ship is restocked with basic supplies, foodstuff, clothes and other such things for as long as it took. If the ship was scanned all it would detect would be one biosignature and 4 electronic outputs as thats all that was onboard.
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Liam Blood
Member
Posts: 102
Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Oct 2, 2013 3:47:46 GMT -8
Victory II Star Destroyer Bounty - Corellian Space
Liam nodded to Darian and Faust. See you soon, then. turned, and headed off toward a turbolift.
Until they arrived at Nar Shaddaa, Liam had only work ahead. He had not yet been notified that Jol Bax was in custody, likely that wouldn't happen until after they got to the Smuggler's Moon, thus routine administration was the order of the day, and he resolved to head for his own quarters, not far from the Mandos' quarters, where he could get the most uninterrupted work done. The bridge was too easy for officers to task him. His quarters were out of sight, and lockable. Liam got in a turbolift and headed for the deck upon which he was living.
The doors opened onto an atrium, on the lowest floor in the centre of which was a garden, with some vendors to one side. The atrium itself was seven decks high, and had the feel of a moderately appointed hotel, with quarters of varying size and luxury off around the outside. A single transparisteel elevator serviced the seven residential levels, separate to the turbolift system, large enough for fifty beings at a time to ride.
Liam's quarters were on the fourth level, one of three including the first and seventh that had turbolift access. His quarters were far from luxurious, Liam preferring functionality over style. He had a comfortable bed, large flat viewscreen, desk, HoloNet access, as well as a washroom. A few basic decorations from Corellia gave the place less of a hotel feel, more like an apartment.
Liam entered his lock code and thumbprint on the door pad, which beeped acceptance and slid the door to his apartment open for him. C4-Y0 was busy organizing files in the office area when Liam entered. He greeted his master warmly as he always did, and Liam thanked him, as he always did, cutting the droid off with a request for peace and quiet; it was the only way to avoid a lengthy discussion with the droid, something Liam had programmed into the protocol droid after the first day of ownership. Liam grinned, his mechanical companion always managed to look suitably offended when muted by his owner. Satisfied, Liam went to his desk and sat down to begin reading reports from off-world teams.
After a couple of hours, he decided that was enough for a stretch, and got up, resolving to go get a drink at one of Bounty's many bars. He un-muted the droid, and left his quarters, taking a turbolift to one of Bounty's recreation and entertainment decks.
The doors opened onto a world of light and color and pounding alien bass music. The are nearest the turbolift was a dance bar mostly frequented by off-duty Bounty crew, and the few brave spacer types looking for whatever they could find. It was part of the Casino area that Liam had to walk through to get to the bar he frequented. Past the dance bar and its pounding bass note, after about fifty meters of glittering Casino and noisy electronic games, he came to a sound-dampening barrier disguised as a shimmering curtain of laserlight three meters high; the entrance to Holdout's, a Corellia themed bar that traded on the popularity of Corellia's favourite son, Han Solo.
Inside, muted Corellian popular music was piped in just above the ambient voices of the patrons. Han Solo merchandise, and holos of the famous rogue lined the wall. A bartender wearing the outfit Solo had the day he'd met Luke Skywalker on Tatooine saw Liam enter and began fixing his usual. Liam had it in front of him by the time he got to his chair at the bar, and he flipped the barman a credcoin, which the Rodian made disappear faster than the Whyren's reserve on ice appeared in front of Liam Blood. Liam turned away from the bar and took a sip of his drink as he watched a scene from one of the many holodramas of the Battle of Yavin; Solo's Luck, played out on a multitude of screens for the entertainment of the patrons. The ersatz Solo and his on screen comrades flew rings around Darth Vader and the hapless TIE fighters, and upon landing at the Rebel base on Yavin he was met by a tall busty blonde that bore little to no resemblance to the real Princess Leia, beyond the outfit and the hairstyle, Luke Skywalker seemingly forgotten; this was a Corellian-made film after all, and a cheesy one at that. Liam chuckled to himself for his terrible taste in actually enjoying the film.
I've seen worse. A grizzled spacer beside Liam, assuming he meant the female lead grunted back.
Hey bud, I wouldn't kick her out of bed. Liam appraised the man with a raised eyebrow. With no malice, but a grin he replied;
No, I reckon you wouldn't. That earned him a grunt in response, and both men turned back to their drinks. For the first time in months, Liam relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy what would probably be the last recreation he'd see for some time.
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Lia Corusa
Member
Just your average runaway Barbie biatch.
Posts: 86
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Lia Corusa on Oct 2, 2013 16:40:39 GMT -8
Under other circumstances, a man would perhaps be thrilled at the idea of an attractive young female stowaway taking refuge in his personal quarters for the duration of the long, lonely trip through space.
Unfortunately for Jeris Kel, the skittish, mild-mannered dishwasher from the Deck 1A mess hall, the blonde he’d been secretly harboring wouldn't come out of his closet unless he brought her food, and never once did she offer to warm his bed as a show of gratitude. Not that Jeris would ever dream of asking, especially with that blaster she kept out and primed. Besides. He was a gentleman.
It had happened two mornings ago. He’d risen early from a night of deep sleep, opened his closet to change into his kitchen whites and was met with a slim booted foot in the chest and a heavily modified DL-44 blaster waved in his face. As if having someone burst out of your locker unexpectedly wasn't traumatizing enough, the person on the other end of the blaster turned out to be a girl, which seemed to scare Jeris more than anything else. Females were not something he had much experience with. As a child, he’d been a short, nervous, portly little thing, and he hadn't changed much past twenty-three. The kitchen was his home, the dishes and soap suds and staff his family; anything remotely outside of his element and the man quickly went to pieces. Which, as he thought back, is probably why Lia Corusa had chosen his room. He’d seen her before, actually, among the kitchen staff a few days earlier, looking a little lost but working hard. She must have figured out he’d put up zero resistance. Once she’d put the blaster down, the two engaged in a short, tense conversation about her predicament, and he’d timidly agreed to let her stay in his quarters for the rest of the trip. He’d offered her his bunk, like a gentleman, but Lia seemed content in the closet, for which he was secretly grateful. She made him very uncomfortable, with her unflinching stares and her unforgiving sharp tongue. But she meant business, she wanted to stay hidden, and she had the power here. So he cooperated, and promised not to reveal her location.
Now, two days later and still ill at ease with the situation, Jeris slipped into his room after his shift, a small bag of food in his hand. It was getting difficult for him to explain to the chefs why he was forever asking for all the leftovers, but Jeris had managed so far without too much suspicion. At least, he hoped he had. No one had come knocking yet, although many of the staff had given him strange looks. He locked the door behind him, and clutching the food before him like a shield, took a steadying breath and opened his closet door.
“Finally.” Lia lurched at him, snatching the bag away, too focused on the food to notice his nervous recoil. He stepped back as far as he could, settling cross-legged on the floor opposite her, and watched her tear apart his offerings like some ravenous animal goddess.
“So…” He began carefully. Lia was not a chatty person, but he felt awkward just watching her. “Tell me again why they kicked you out of the kitchens?”
Silence as the blonde finished demolishing one of the rolls. “I couldn't make toast,” Lia said around a mouthful of bread, digging around in the bag for another piece.
Jeris paused, digesting that. Having observed her wild, harsh behavior for the past few days, he actually believed it. “Ah. So you’re not a cook. Then... why did you volunteer to be in the kitchens?”
She shrugged, licking crumbs from her fingers. “Seemed like the easiest way to get aboard. Said they needed the help, anyway, and I figured it couldn't be too hard. But then that one chef, what’s his name, the Twi’lek with the inquisitive stares and the bad teeth?”
“Chef Terl’ka,” Jeris supplied helpfully.
“Yeah. Him. He figured out I was stealing wages and nabbing credits from the store cash drawers.” Lia stuffed a pickled vegetable into her mouth, flipping her hair away from her face. “Tried to drag me to the head honcho for ‘disciplinary action’.” She snorted in derision. “So I gave him a black eye and took off, lost him in the hallways, and ended up in here.”
“So that’s how he got hurt!” Jeris raised his eyebrows in fearful awe. Violence was another thing he had no experience with. “No one could figure out what had happened, he just yelled at anyone who asked and never talked about it.”
Lia nodded a little, licking her lips as she finished the last chili dumpling. “Probably too embarrassed to report it. It would make him look bad if he lost track of a little thief girl.”
Silence descended for a moment. Jeris frowned in thought. “But why come here? To my room? There are tons of empty rooms you could have broken into.”
Lia sighed loudly in annoyance, finally lifting her bitter green eyes to look at him. Jeris narrowed his eyes a tiny bit in response, as if he were trying to look at the sun. “Because you’re nice,” she snapped, crumpling the empty food bag up and tossing it over her shoulder into the closet. “You’re too meek to turn me in, too gentle to try and rough me up, and too awkward and nervous to force me into your bed. You’re that guy who goes unnoticed most of the time, and you are way too kind to half those assholes in the kitchens, and that’s how I knew you would help me out.”
It was probably the most she’d ever said to him. Jeris blinked uncertainly at her, trying to work out if her words were complimentary or insulting. “…Oh,” was all he could manage. He watched in quiet wonder as she scooted backwards into his closet on a small nest of shirts, double check her power cell in her blaster, and settle against the cold steel wall. “You ,uh, never told me why you’re here at all. Are you in some kind of trouble, or… don’t you have family?”
“This is my family,” came the immediate response. Lia held up her DL-44, tapping the metal frame. “Best you didn't know the rest. Just get me to wherever this ship is going next and I’ll be gone for good.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but Jeris hadn’t expected her to provide one at all. Still. There was something rather sad about her words. He had a large family on Coruscant, brothers and sisters waiting anxiously for his return, a mother who loved him. He had a whole file on his datapad full of holovids from his siblings, and a drawer next to his bed packed with little memoirs of his home. Small models of ships and colorful action figures of famous holofilm stars lined his shelves, shoulder to shoulder with the tiny clay figurines his littlest brother liked to send him, and the socks his mother knitted him every Life Tree Day were folded neatly inside his closet. Or they were, before Lia took up residence. Jeris might like his solitude, but he was loved, he had a home, a job, some money and a few friends. He had something.
This girl, though. She had nothing. Nothing except a blaster and a whole ‘lotta secrets. And he felt for her. How wretched and lonely she must feel, constantly moving, never trusting…
“Don’t do that.” Lia gave him a sour look, blaster still in her hand.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t look at me like you pity me. Like I’m some kind of lost-damsel charity case.” She stared harshly at Jeris, her jaw set. “You nice guys are all the same. You get one hint of my chaotic lifestyle and before you know it, you’re riding to my rescue on white horses.”
Jeris gulped, shaking his head rapidly. “No no, I wasn't even—“
“Don’t pamper me,” she barked, “don’t feel sorry for me, I’m a hearty bitch, I can take care of myself out there.” Jeris didn't doubt that at all. “And maybe I like my anarchic life. Maybe I like hiding in closets and threatening nice guys and stealing from good, honest people. I don’t answer to anyone, I have no attachments, no anchors, I can do whatever the hell I want and not have to worry about anything.”
“Okay, okay!” Jeris raised his hands in fast surrender, scrambling up from his spot on the floor. “I get it, I’m sorry, your life is great, nothing to feel bad about, I get it.” He waited, tensed for further arguments, but he didn't get them. Her eyes followed him, though, challenging and unrelenting. The young man withered under her gaze. “I’ll just… the food was good? I can get you some more. I’ll go do that right now.” He inched towards the door, sweating a little. “Yes. Right now. More food! I’ll be right back, just… rest, or whatever it is you do in my closet.” And with an awkward smile, he backed out of his room and took off down the hallway, finding calm in the distance. He’d thought about telling someone about her numerous times, but he’d never followed through. It just didn'tfeel right to him, no matter how upsetting she was. She’d trusted him to keep her secret, and so he would.
Jeris headed for the kitchens, even though it wasn’t his shift, wanting to lose himself in the hectic flow of food prep. There was always something that needed doing there, and the steady pattern and steamy heat always had a calming effect on him. But he paused outside the entrance to Holdout’s. He was not a drinking man, and neither did he play Sabaac, but the crowd wasn’t too rowdy right now, and the horribly cast holofilm playing across the screens caught his eye. He hadn’t seen this version in a long time. Jeris took a few meek steps into the cantina, careful not to disturb the little crowds of beings scattered about the area. He made it to the bar, found a quiet spot, and ordered a glass of carbonated Jumbli juice as he watched the holofilm with wide eyes, remembering his first time seeing it back home. The Rodian had just set his drink down when a thick, orange hand grabbed Jeris by the shoulder and turned him roughly around.
It was Chef Terl’ka. And he’d had far too much to drink.
The massive Twi’lek had been throwing back steady shots for the better part of an hour now, from the way he was weaving around. The bruise decorating his right eye was bursting with a ripe purple-black color, an obscene sight when set against his light orange skin. “You!” Terl’ka jabbed a finger at Jeris, who shrank back against the bar counter. “Sneaky boy. You sneak, always sneak little foods, I see you,” he bellowed at the dishwasher in butchered Basic.
This could be trouble, Jeris thought. Alarm lit his features. The young man shook his head, hands once again raised in surrender. “I- I-..sorry chef, I don’t know what you’re talking abo—“
“You sneak!!!” Terl’ka grabbed Jeris by his collar, lurching him forward. The Twi’lek peered crazily into his face, yellow eyes searching. “No lie, I see you. Hiding foods in room. I follow!” He reached around Jeris, oblivious to the scene he was making, intent on finding something else to drink. “I follow to room, hear you speak. Who you speak to, eh?”
Jeris tried. He tried to keep his Sabaac face on, but he was never a good liar. Panic gripped his insides. He’d followed him to his room? He’d heard them talking? “N-no one! I just. I. I get hungry. At night, you know. I need extra food, and things. A lot.” He paused awkwardly. “…please let me go, sir.”
Anger and frustration clipped Terl’ka’s face. He shook the young man lightly, voice thick with booze. “Who you speak to?? You tell, or no job anymore, you tell now!!” He gestured widely to his bruised face, apparently not drunk enough to not notice Jeris was staring at his wounds. “Oh, this? You know of this? I think you sneak not for you. You sneak to girl,” he finished with a growl, expression stormy. “You hide her!! I follow, I know. Where is she??” he roared, shaking Jeris so hard his teeth chattered.
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Darian Beviin
Member
Posts: 206
Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Darian Beviin on Oct 2, 2013 17:24:15 GMT -8
Darian made a gesture to imply the younger man had no need of the breastplate, though he made no attempt to bid the boy remove it. Tightening the bandage wrappings around his forearms and wrists, the ratty, bloodied fabric seemed to conform to his thinning flesh as though it were little more than an additional layer. As though blood and sweat were a part of what he now was. And perhaps, at some level, he had become the embodiment of hard labor and violence, of positive change through chaos and carnage. One could only hope that Kad's blessings had been so effectual.
He glowered down on the youth, the way a mentor might to one of his studious apprentices, still wet behind the ears and unweathered. All the same, he enjoyed the eagerness that Faust brought to the table- it was refreshing, seeing someone so intent on doing their duty, overflowing with tenacity and fervor. The High Priest's eyes flickered with something akin to amusement and malice, though no one could ever be certain what rampaged through the mind of a broken man. Instead, they could be aware of chaos- because that was his duty.
The Avatar of Kad Ha'rangir in the material world.
And as Faust rose to the challenge, Darian accepted his praise to the Lord of Savagery with open arms. He raised both hands to shoulder level slowly, open palmed as if ready to take on the weight of the world, and he tilted his head back, letting his eyelids slip shut. The pain of being alive- so subtle, sometimes, so easily ignored or tuned out by contrived, outside interferences- was something to be revered. Where normal men went through life fighting to dampen or drown that pain out, Darian's sole purpose had become taking that pain from others, and bearing the burden as though it were his very own.
Like the finest beskar, he had been forged in the white hot flames of his own hellish life, tempered in tragedy, and remade into something that- while not at all beautiful, and beyond heart wrenching, was the most noble and of sacrifices any man could make. And while nothing tangible occurred from his gesture, in his heart, and the hearts of those with true faith, there was solace. Comfort. For those few, fleeting moments of ritualistic acceptance, Darian gave respite to those who suffered from the worst of all ailments: life.
His arms began to drop only slightly, falling to clasp either of Faust's shoulders as he locked his firm gaze dead onto the other man's own, as though he were forging a pathway between their souls. And then, he bowed his head in silent piety, his eyes flickering shut as he muttered some unintelligible rite, shoulders sagging in vunerability as he opened both of them up to their Divine Patron.
"Bless this child," ran through his mind, fire coursing through his veins as zeal filled his heart, "and make of him a servant and a warrior. Amen "
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Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 2, 2013 19:26:47 GMT -8
The years of grueling training, the rivers of blood he'd sought to drown the universe in, the patchwork of scars he had become: it had all been for this. His induction as a full member of the Priesthood. Faust didn't have to ask himself if it were worth it; he gloried in his work, and performed his rites of worship in tribute to the Destroyer God, who had always had his ear. As Darian's hands fell upon his shoulders he felt a heavier weight, and knew that Kad bore witness to the ceremony. Bowing his head so their foreheads were touching, Faust muttered the ancient incantations in tandem with his elder. When it was over and Darian backed away, Faust held Gorehound firmly in his left hand. With his right he slowly undid the straps and buckles holding his breastplate in place; when they were freed the hunk of metal fell to the floor with a clang that startled a passing technician badly enough he dropped the hydrospanner he was carrying, adding to the commotion.
Giving the axe an expert spin through his fingers, the Mandalorian met the gaze of his alor and nodded once, his expression full of grim purpose in the ensuing silence.
Gorehound whistled a jaunty tune of mayhem as it carved through the air, the hook its cruel edge terminated in burying itself in the right side of Faust's jaw with a thwack and a spray of blood. He didn't flinch. The powerful cords of muscle in the youth's arm bunched and strained as he ripped the axe down, shredding the flesh of his cheek from his right earlobe to the corner of his mouth. A shriek filled the air as Gorehound's edge scraped against Faust's clenched teeth, and more blood sprayed from the wound, drenching his neck, shoulder, and breastplate. The Priest's face was already criss crossed by scars, but this was by far the worst he had inflicted upon himself; and that was appropriate, considering the import of the coming battle. A great change demanded a great offering to Kad. Jaw set against the pain, his teeth looking very white amidst the ruined flesh and splashes of red, Faust dropped the axe atop his cloak, along with the other weapons.
Fingers curled loosely, eyes narrowed against the pain that swept through him in waves, the youth widened his stance until his feet were a shoulder length apart. His right foot was forward, and his right arm was extended toward Darian, bent at the elbow.
It was time.
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Darian Beviin
Member
Posts: 206
Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Darian Beviin on Oct 2, 2013 20:04:45 GMT -8
"Ni'vorer ibic'agol sa ijaa'be'entye." Darian said evenly, approving of Faust's sacrifice unflinchingly. Blood splattered along his tanned face from the fledgling Priest's Holy act of Mutilation, and as Gorehound clattered to the floor and the still bleeding initiate raised his guard, Darian lifted his hands to his chest, digging his nails into the meaty flesh stretched over his pectoral muscles, and he tore as deeply as he could, his teeth digging into his tongue to quash his all too human initial reaction- to scream out in agony.
Blood welled up in the crevices he'd plowed there, like rainwater in a manmade ditch, irrigated downward across fields to give new life; it was a thing of symbolism, how they bled themselves. Many men did so to provide for the ones they loved, many Beroya'se peddled their trade for noble reasons, but none of them did anything like this.
Covered quite literally in his own ruin, a man was terrifying. But after the first look, and the baleful disapproval and reproach, men could see the failings and misgivings of society slip away. Beneath the carcasses of human nature, stripped bare, there are things worth viewing. Faith gave those things form. Belief made them beautiful.
The salty tears that trickled down his cheeks spilled onto the claw marks on his chest, and they stung, but his grim expression was set in stone. He brought his hand forward, half curled into fists, and held them at eye level. His left foot remained out front, while his right retreated slightly, and his left knee was bent so that only his toes swept across the floor.
With a nondescript, flourishing gesture, he bid Faust begin.
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Faust Skirata
Member
I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 4, 2013 13:11:09 GMT -8
Faust watched approvingly his alor's rites of worship, his fingers curling and uncurling in thinly veiled anticipation. Nodding once in response to Darian's sentiment, a gesture heavily laden with reverence, the young Mandalorian suddenly burst forward, boots clanking against the gleaming floor as he closed the distance. His right foot planted itself less than a meter from his target. His right hand streaked out in a savage jab meant for Darian's solar plexus. Flayed lips formed vehement curses and platitudes; teeth, stark white against a backdrop of red savagery, worked around utterances of praise.
Kad Ha'rangir watched on fondly as his prophet met his avatar in ritual battle.
In the wake of his first strike Faust recoiled and withdrew. Twisting his hips, he swept his leg around and to the fore, the motion lead by his left fist in a vicious cross-hook meant to fall like a hammer blow upon Darian's jaw. The Priest's heart beat in time to a song of destruction, and it was a fast number. Not quite drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears, Kad whispered incessantly, his tone equal parts malice and joy. It plucked at his nerves with maddening efficiency.
Rage built within him.
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Liam Blood
Member
Posts: 102
Affiliation: Mandalore
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Post by Liam Blood on Oct 6, 2013 5:46:11 GMT -8
Victory II Star Destroyer Bounty - Corellian SpaceHoldout's BarLiam finished sending a communique to an extremely capable operative, regarding a mission vital to the Sons of Bounty. Liam hoped he'd hear back by the time Bounty arrived at Nar Shaddaa. He was just completing it when the commotion across the bar went from distraction to annoyance, and took his attention. In a moment, he analyzed the situation.
Liam had seen the big Twi'lek putting it away, and resolved to keep clear of him. He was here for a quiet drink, but evidently the Chief had other entertainments in mind. The target of his wrath was a small man, obviously not a fighter, and that sent Liam's blood to boiling. He wasn't much bigger than Jeris, but on the other hand, he was capable of taking care of himself, and the oversized Twi'lek too. In a moment, he decided that he'd have a little sport to go with his drink. Liam knocked back his drink with a gulp and pushed back his stool from the bar. As Chieif Terl'ka shook Jeris, Liam had walked up behind the large Twi'lek. None too gently, Liam rapped him on the shoulder.Put him down. Then take your drunken shebs home. Or you'll be laughing out of the other side of your lekku. Stepping back a couple of paces and relaxing his stance, Liam waited for the inevitable charge from the big Twi'lek. Once it eventuated, a quick chop to the neck to stun, a grab to control his opponent's direction, and Liam would easily throw the bigger opponent over himself and into a nearby duracrete wall for a starter. After that, if he got up and came again, then Liam would see what else presented as an opportunity. The Twi'lek didn't look especially fit, so it wouldn't be a long fight, he'd try to win with his weight and size, thus Liam would make his vulnerability his weight and size.Come on, fat boy! Riling the big Twi'lek up further couldn't hurt either. Angry sober people rarely thought clearly. For an angry drunk, it was near to impossibility. Liam wanted him to charge in blindly. An opponent that couldn't be goaded was much more dangerous, and Liam doubted the Chief was that in control right at this moment. Plus, he was clearly a bully, never one of the brightest personality types. He'd overheard enough of the conversation to realise this was a supervisor picking on an underling. Well, once he dealt with the Chief, he'd see about looking after the young fellow. There was always a better job available.While this was going on, the Bounty and all aboard jumped to Hyperspace, heading to Nar Shaddaa, moon of Nal Hutta, in the Y'Toub System. Known as the Smugglers' Moon. -> jedivsith.boards.net/thread/179/open-orbit
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Post by Benjamin 'Smitty' Smith on Oct 6, 2013 6:56:31 GMT -8
Ben turns his ship and leaps to Hyperspace after realizing he left a few things on Nar Shaddaa
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Alpharius
Member
Posts: 400
Affiliation: The Rebel Alliance
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Alpharius on Oct 8, 2013 18:10:33 GMT -8
Alpharius stood alone within the cold embrace of his cargo hold, with nothing but the thrums of the active hyperdrive to break the damning silence of space. His eyes were fixated upon the glowing hololithic projectors and, the data spilling forth from the vessels logic core. Each and every line of information was being extracted and decoded from a package he had found awaiting him in the captain’s cabin. Several excruciating minutes later, the download was complete and the hololithic projectors flared to life. A flickering azure image of a hooded woman appeared before the Assassin, much of her face was hidden by her cowl but from what Alpharius could see, she was not human. A forked tongue flickered from her mouth, only confirming what he had assumed mere seconds before. “Greetings, Agent.” She hissed through a fanged maw. Keeping his enmity in check, he simply nodded his acknowledgement but remained silent. “A new contract has been added onto bounty boards throughout the galaxy, and we in the Syndicate have determined a man of your… talents… is required to complete the task.” The moment of hesitation was all Alpharius needed to know that something was not right. He was a trained killer, this reptile knew it and so did much of the syndicate. Thus he began asking himself, why exactly would his talents be most suited for the job at hand? Was he required to take the life of yet another, or did they need him to topple an oppressive government stationed in the Outer Rim?
“If the task is death, it shall be completed before week’s end.” The assassin said plainly, only after a moment of silence had ensued. “You assume much, Agent.” The image spat, not even bothering to conceal her malice. “Your last assignment had seen the death of many innocents. Thus the syndicate has suspended your license to kill for this mission.” Furrowing his brow, Alpharius did not protest the words she had spoken. The organization he was primarily employed by had its rights to remove his ability to kill his target(s) should he be found either reckless or a danger to those around him. It seems his little stunt upon the city world had been filed to higher authorities than that of his handlers. “Affirmative, I expected as much regarding my choices during my last assignment. Now, the destination and target information, if you please.” The reptilian nodded curtly before she spoke once more. Her body language had shifted subtly. The upper half of her torso, all that could be seen, leaned backwards as her scale covered arms crossed her chest. “To the point, your reputation precedes your lack of formality, Alpharius.”
The assassin smirked. “Formality implies an established custom, in the art of murder there is so such candor.” The woman scoffed at the assassin’s words, but she knew he was correct, in a way. “So be it.” A momentary hesitation took the woman hold as she glanced over the details, once she was finished her cracked lips had parted to speak again. “The bounty posting lists your next target as Aurelia Coruscani, a human female. She is five feet and three inches in height, a lithe figure and weighing approximately one hundred and ten pounds. Aurelia has long blonde hair and emerald coloured eyes. All in all she is a beautiful woman wanted alive by our client for fourty-eight million credits.” Alpharius’ eyes opened in shock, such a prize for a woman wanted alive! She must be the errant daughter of either a notable politician or a business tycoon to warrant such a price upon her head. “Fourty-eight million credits to be taken alive? Usually such bounties are labelled upon those our clients seek dead, what did she do to deserve such a high price?” Another pause, though this time not of the woman’s making. The projector lagged slightly as his ship traversed through the azure tunnel of hyperspace. “She is primarily wanted for destruction and obstruction of operations and, personal grievances. However it seems the posting has added that she is wanted by the Republic and Coruscant Security for crimes against the Galactic Republic and the people of Coruscant; aiding and abetting multiple underground criminal organizations; supplying active and known terrorists with weapons of war; and finally obstruction and evasion of the Law.”
The assassin shook his head as the shrouded woman spoke of his targets rap sheet “Such a listing would see this woman killed, She must be important to someone either within the Republic or on Coruscant.” Alpharius paused as he considered the prize for claiming the bounty, such an influx of credits was sure to not go unnoticed for long. There would be other hunters tailing his prey, some who sought to kill her for the sake of sport and others whom sought to use her to slake their unquenchable greed. If he proceeded with this mission, it would not go according to plan and he would have to adopt a more wary approach. “I assume the posting makes a mention of other hunters taking the job?” The cowl bobbed. “Aye, several names have already appeared upon the advertisement. We have run their names through our databanks, but most are aliases of unknown origin. Within the packet we have given you is all the details you need to know of this ‘Lia’. The bounty posting was able to give an accurate depiction of the woman; however If she is wise, her appearance will change in some regards to make her less noticeable. You will find that you will be able to alter the display to assist in countering this effect.” Alpharius nodded. “Understood. Primary contact and collection location?”
The forked tongue flickered from the woman’s mouth. “A female Theelin known as Kintaia has been listed as your primary and only contact, as for the collection location you will be returning to the Outlander Club. So my advice Alpharius, ditch the mask and wear something nice.” He chuckled slightly, breaking the inhuman mentality of a cold hearted killer. “Doubtful. One detail was forgotten, Last known location?” This time, the hooded woman chuckled. “Ah yes, how forgetful of me; there was a possible sighting of ‘Lia’ upon Corellia. Once you arrive in system you will have to investigate from there. I would suggest following up with Corellia orbital traffic control to see if her name or alias was listed on any passenger manifests. Though knowing how low profile she is attempting to be, ‘Lia’ might have stowed away upon a vessel headed away from the Core Worlds.” The assassin sighed. “This means if Aurelia stowed away on a ship, she could be hiding on anything from a light freighter to a battle cruiser. The odds are the trail could be cold by the time we jump in system, yet with enough credits I should be able to bargain for the information I require. Mission parameters are understood and acknowledged. Alpharius out.”
Before she had a chance to respond, the assassin severed the link. That alien woman sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine. It was unnatural for a humanoid to be covered from head to toe in miniscule scales of hardened flesh. Thankful that he was born human in appearance, Alpharius deactivated the projector and removed the data packet from the terminals computer. Crimson in hue and sitting within the palm of his hand, he noted how easily a thing like this could be destroyed. All that information gone with a single deed, what a modern marvel technology had become. Tossing the chip into the air and clearing his mind of clutter, Alpharius moved into his quarters and began dressing himself for the mission to come. He was going to a planet known for infamous smugglers and spacers, so he would have to dress the part in order to move among the populace unnoticed. He would be instantly picked out as an assassin was he to wear nothing but his suit and to be obstructed by such a foolish decision would cost him precious time in the acquisition of his target. Stripped to the waist, Alpharius padded silently across the deck of his cabin towards his dresser and began pilfering through the assorted items of clothing that had been placed there long before he had boarded. After several moments of ordered searching, he had found something that would be suitable for the task. It was a dark blue outfit that consisted of local attire, which included the black nerfhide boots and an ebon dyed vest. Standard fare for a simple spacer whom got lucky in a game of chance, a cover story that wouldn’t fly by anyone whom stared too long, but it would suit his needs for the time required to garner the information he needed.
Sliding his feet into the cured hide boots, Alpharius strapped his holstered sidearm about his thigh and looked in the mirror thereafter. He didn’t recognize the face he wore; despite knowing it was his own. That man died, and every time he looked in the mirror he had to remind himself of that fact. Arcanus Sunstrider was no longer a man, but a memory sown into the flesh of another. Sorrow took hold of his heart as his hand reflexively came to cradle his jaw. Old habits were always the worst to let die, as no matter how hard you forget, that memory is implanted in the bones. It was something that would take more than death to let it fade into the fog of time. The assassin’s heart began pounding like a pagan’s drum as his fingers trailed along the length of his jaw, feeling the coarse grains of his beard rub against his flesh. This beard was not his, it was alien to him as the reptilian handler he had been assigned. Alpharius did not like it; he was starting to hate having to leave his suit behind. The assassin wanted to wear the body glove, to feel its tender and loving touch once more. This beard only inhibited his connection with the suit, thus he needed to get rid of it so that when he returned his suit would lovingly caress his naked flesh. He needed it more than anything in the universe, for he was nothing without it…
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Dropping from azure embrace of hyperspace, a single ebon freighter shot into orbit above the technologically lush world of Corellia. Encompassing the planet were the impressive shipping lanes and the orbital shipyards, rivalling that of Kuat. In the darkness of space the vessel sailed through void between worlds and, came to a halt within one of the many lines of traffic headed towards the surface. After a lengthy stay above the planet, the midnight plated YT-2400 was finally cleared to enter Corellian airspace. With the green light to approach the system, the pilot broke the orderly formation of traffic and sped down towards the planet below. Citations were issued and a pair of enforcement patrol ships broke off the traffic lanes and made their pursuit. When they had closed upon the light freighter, their IFF systems bounced back CorSec identity codes. Confused, they hailed the ship only to find that their scanners were correct in their information. Broadcasting an apology the two patrol vessels formed up with the ebon plated ship and followed it down towards the planet below...
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