Arcona Welcome Run On - Once More Into The Breach


16-10-2007 16:39:45


In the deep blackness of space hung a ship. It was dark, its hull painted a matte-black to better camouflage it, and also as homage to the clan focus of its force-using inhabitants. It was a mile long, had a crew of nearly forty thousand, and its very shape, that of a thrusting dagger, sent tendrils of fear through the heart of the most seasoned spacer. The ship’s class had been around for over twenty years, yet it was still not considered obsolete in the slightest – quite the reverse; the Imperial-II Star Destroyer was the benchmark against which all other capital ships were compared.

The Eye of the Abyss was stationary for now, her exterior lights de-activated, her engines powered down – the only sign of life were the blinking lights signalling the hangar bay to the approaching flight of fighters. They came in low, themselves invisible to the eye not through a clever paint job, but through more advanced means – a stygium cloaking field.

On the bridge of the Destroyer the lights were de-activated to better aid the stealth qualities of the Abyss, but also (many suspected) because the Consul preferred it that way. As such, the only illumination came from the console controls and holographics. He stood at the front of the catwalk, staring down the bow of his dark destroyer, arms crossed over a powerful chest, contemplating the state of his clan and the Brotherhood at large. Behind him, the crew worked with a quiet, fearful efficiency. It wasn’t a good idea to attract Mejas Doto’s attention, especially with incompetence.

His newly anointed Proconsul hurried up the catwalk, still clad in his Soulfire Neo Crusader Armour with the helmet under his arm. He stopped a respectful two meters from the Zabrak and waited to be acknowledged without a word. It was nearly a minute before Mejas turned to face his right arm.

“Report.” He murmured, already knowing the outcome of the operation.

“The shroud is patrolled by corvette and frigate analogs, as well as various coralskippers and other bio-tech, such as grutchins and dovin basal mines. We were only able to get a partial passive sensor sweep of the area before the…” Sashar trailed off for a moment, collecting his thoughts and bracing himself. “before the crew got skittish and the Captain overruled Kieran. He withdrew the Agave¬-class picket before we could complete the scan.”

Mejas’s eyes flashed at the mention of insubordination, but he said nothing. He knew as well as the Mandalorian that these crews were fresh, green, unused to the rigours demanded on them by their Dark Jedi commanders. All officers and crewmen needed training.

“You let the captain withdraw his ship?” Doto asked. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, however Sashar was expecting it.

“I was there as a member of Soulfire Strike Team, not as Proconsul. As long as I wear this armour, I’m just a trooper. It would muddy the chain of command if I overruled Kieran.”

“And I suppose letting a mundane call the shots on a Jedi mission is acceptable?” The Zabrak countered, letting the force augment his voice slightly. Some of the bridge officers glanced up warily, but continued to work.

“That mistake can be corrected easily enough. I fully intend to discipline him for his insubordination, but doing so in a combat situation would have been counterproductive. If handled incorrectly, we could’ve had a full-blown mutiny, and that would have been…problematic. The situation was handled as best as it could have been, given the circumstances.” The confidence in Sashar’s voice was unexpected, but nevertheless, Mejas ploughed on.

“And how do you intend to discipline this captain?”

“Docking of a month’s pay, put on report and a cancellation of his leave time.”

Doto snorted in disgust. Sashar was an able warrior, a fine tactician and a sage counsel when it came to matters of Arcona, but he still had much to learn about the simple power and obedience fear could instil.

“Get changed and meet me in the main hangar in fifteen minutes.” He ordered as he swept past Sashar, his shoulder easily nudging the Mandalorian aside.

Sashar nodded, but it was a wasted gesture; the Zabrak was already halfway down the catwalk, his long inky black cloak sweeping after him. For a moment, Sashar’s mind flickered and he pictured that same cloak on the bridge of a star destroyer attached to a similar sinister figure, who had at one point been the Emperor’s bloodhound – he had also had a foul temper. The Mandalorian could only hope that Mejas Doto would live up to Vader’s reputation if he intended to have his leadership style.


When the Exarch arrived in the Hangar, his stomach sank. He could feel the Consul’s presence in the centre of a large crowd of mundanes. With Doto was the captain of the picket. He was held to the floor by the force, his whimpers failing to move the Zabrak into letting him free. Standing by the Consul’s side was his bodyguard of the shift, one of Soulfire’s members, Malidir Erinos. His hand was resting on his saber and he eyed the crowd warily. As soon as Sashar was able to make his way through the ring of observers, Mejas began.

“This man, this snivelling coward presumed to have more wisdom than the combined knowledge of five of my best Dark Jedi Warriors. He countermined their orders, and as a result endangered the life of every single one of you. The information his ship was sent to gather was to play a pivotal role in the upcoming operation, and due to his being unable to handle the pressure, we must know face the unknown. The chances of a lot of you dying increased dramatically, due to the actions of one man. Him.” He spat the last word out as if it would sully his mouth, and he pierced his gaze on the captive who had redoubled his efforts to squirm free of the Dark Jedi Master’s grasp. It wasn’t going to happen.

“I will not let this filth dirty the decks and presume to walk among you as equals. He will crawl on his stomach like the worm he is. Sashar: take his arms and legs.”

The horror that bounced from the crowd at Doto’s words was like a gust of wind, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil in the Mandalorian at that moment. He knew that if he disagreed, Doto would kill him, and further knew that disagreeing in public would damage their command ability in front of a green crew. He had to do it.

With a nod and guarded expression, Sashar drew his saber from his belt, stalked forward and gestured with a hand, sweeping the former captain so that he was face down, spread-eagled on the deck. Four quick slices, four wheezes of agony from the disgraced commander, and it was over. He wanted to be sick, but held his stomach in check and snapped off his orange blade, reattaching the saber to his belt and turned his back on the macabre image, stalking from the bay. He couldn’t bare to look any of the crew or the maimed, writhing captain in the eye.

“A lesson in pain has been delivered. Let you all learn something of it.” Mejas’s voice called out behind the Proconsul, and he knew that the words were aimed more at him than the mundanes. This entire exercise was.


By the time Sashar arrived back on the bridge he’d calmed down somewhat. Standing in the communications foyer, leaning over the chair of one of the green midshipmen was his brother, Zandro Erinos.

“su’cuy.” The Mandalorian said by way of greeting. Zandro looked over his shoulder and grinned, before straightening formally and saluting by slamming his right fist against his left pectoral.

“We managed to get a partial dump of the working sensor net. It’s still not 100% reliable, as this is the shroud we’re looking at, but I was just reviewing it here… looks like there’s some survivors in there, and they’re calling for help.”

“Just as Mejas predicted.” Sashar said almost to himself as he stared at the screen showing the co-ordinates.

“Did Soulfire get the vector scans?”

The Exarch winced involuntarily, but shook his head. “Captain decided we had to pull out. Mejas had me discipline him. He won’t be captaining again.”

Zandro was quiet for a moment, but nodded.

“You reckon this is worth going in for?”

Before the Mandalorian could answer his brother, a low voice answered.

“If there are survivors in the Shroud, they might be willing to grant allegiance to whichever clan rescues them. Arcona needs to replenish the ranks, ergo, we go in. Sashar, ready my flagship for departure.”

“Yes, Lord Consul.”


OOC: Okay gents, this is just a small writing exercise to get you all used to working with each other. It’s set directly after the events of the GJW, before resurrection, and whilst fictionally speaking a lot of our newcomers came in then, it could be nifty to have some of you join us before then, so without further ado, I give you the Arc Run On! Post in-character, detailing where you are/what you’re doing either in the Shroud or the Eye of the Abyss, and don’t worry, I’ll have a guiding plot post tomorrow.

Any questions, email me.


16-10-2007 17:50:04

The Warlord trimmed the controls of Legacy as he left the safety in which Naga Sadow was temporarily taking sanctuary. He had recently resigned from Quaestor of House Marka Ragnos and would venture out on his own. He was to search himself, find answers to questions that had been dominating him since his Self-Exile...He was but a Rogue, a man with no pride. Everything that he once had was taken from him..

The Force was unique in many ways. It would help even those who took advantage of it..Visions came to him as he piloted his vessel, his eyes closing as he let his feelings navigate...Redemption lies with your first love... Words rang within his mind, daggers piercing his chest, causing him to roar and grip the flight-stick with great force, his muscles tensing as he tried to forget.

"GET........OUT!!" He shouted...His conscience reminding him of his once greater life...The power he controlled and quickly lost.

It was at that very moment he could hear mumbling within his earpiece. The voice familiar, one he never thought he would've been hearing again.

"Zandro..You're still living?" Quejo spat....The very name making him sick to his stomach.

"Polite as usual..." Zandro snapped back, sarcasm seeping from each word. "I never thought I'd be saying this to you...." He quickly paused. "But...Arcona needs your help..."

The cockpit of the Legacy became dead silent. The lips of the Warlord curling to form a snarl as he began trembling with hatred..He was reluctant to listen but the words that rang within his mind kept him from losing control...

"We have heard of survivors in the Shroud and we need the best pilots we can find. I've fought you before, and I know that with you we could do this. Without you? The outcome is less clear" Zandro began...

"So Arcona calls for my aid?" Drakai scoffed.."Where was Arcona when I needed her?"

"Forget the grudges Quejo!" Zandro erupted. "If you can sit there and watch your Clan...No...Our Clan die....Then maybe I was right about you..Maybe we were all right about you."

Quejo's eyes closed slowly as his deep hood fell down over his eyes, his war-torn features shrouded in darkness.

"Arcona.....How can I let you die?" He spoke softly "I'll see you in Dajorra."

Xander Drax

16-10-2007 18:30:50

Xander sat back in the command chair, gazing out at the molted blue vista of hyperpace. The changes of the last few weeks had been many, and it was taking more then some small effort to wrap his mind around them. The fall of Antei, the shattering of the Brotherhood fleet, the death of so many. But, Xander had been faced with such things before. The fall of Coruscant, the fall of the Empire, it was all seemingly happening again.

However, there was one difference. Lord Sarin was still alive, unlike Palpatine. If anything could hold together the disparate clans, it would be Sarin's indomitable will. And there was one other difference. Xander wasn't under the command of some conniving Imperial who styled himself a warlord. The reigns of the clan had been seized by Mejas Doto, so perhaps there was still hope.

The call had gone out for the clan members to gather aboard a ship that had been acquired recently, a new flagship for Arcona. As Xander pushed forward the hyperdrive levers and dropped the ship into realspace, he almost thought he had somehow missed the rendezvous. His sensors almost missed it, and it wasn't until he had pushed out his senses and felt the presence of forty thousand souls that he was sure. The jet black Impstar Duece was running dark, only giving off the most minimal emissions, but they were there. He flicked open his comm channels, signaling the behemoth.

“Magus to unidentified destroyer,” Xander called.

“Eye of the Abyss acknowledges,” came the voice of the ship's signal officer.

“Requesting landing clearances,” Xander replied followed by a long string of code.

“Clearance granted for main bay, Magus,” was his only answer.

As Xander pulled up underneath the great ship and ascended into the docking bay, he wondered at the name. Either someone was honoring their heritage, or it was an attack of unoriginality. Knowing it was Mejas' work, it was most likely the former. But one never did know. It took him a few minutes to lock everything down and descend the ramp to the docking bay floor. As he left the ship, he called over his shoulder to his droid.

“You know what to do if anyone tries to get on board, Leto?” he asked.

“Indeed, master,” the droid's crisp voice answered.

Drax grimaced as he looked around the bay. It bustled with activity, but there was a certain franticness that spoke of a hastily trained crew going about their duties for the first time. Oh, for the days when I could walk of a shuttle and have a company of troops, pilots, and naval officers snap to attention, Drax mused. Those days were long gone, his admiral's insignia no longer on his jacket. But he knew that he would never go back to those days, even given the choice. The doors opened by a familiarity with the force were grander then those offered simply by military command.

Xander was jolted from his reverie by the pronounced whine of repulsors, and turned to see a pair of shuttles landing across the deck. As they settled, they disgorged a gaggle of officers, lead by one whom from bearing was obviously their captain. Finally, as they were milling about on the deck, a lift tube opened near them, depositing two Jedi onto the deck. Drax recognized Mejas immediately and thought he knew the one beside him, but instead of approaching he simply leaned up against a convenient crate.

He watched as Doto moved to the center of the crowd, and smashed the commander to the ground with his will. As the man made pathetic noises, like that of a nerf caught in a trap, the lift tube once again opened, revealing another man. This one, Sashar Xander knew, seemed less at ease then their master. However, he crossed the deck and followed the commands of Mejas. When all was said and done, what remained of the captain remained on the deck, and the three Jedi made their move to leave. Xander waited a few more minutes, watching the assembled men shuffle back aboard their shuttles before he too followed in the footsteps of his Clan leader.

As the doors to the bridge opened, Drax was privy to the last of a conversation between Sashar and the Consul.

“Arcona needs to replenish the ranks, ergo, we go in. Sashar, ready my flagship for departure.” Doto said quietly, but with a hardness in his voice.

“Yes, Lord Consul,” was Sashar's reply.

As Doto turned, Sashar began to give orders to the captain of the vessel, a man not very dissimilar to the torso that had been lying on the hangar deck. Xander met the gaze of his master, noting that the Zabrak's expression was a scowl that promised endless torment. Xander quickly dropped to a knee, bowing from the torso as he did so.

“I greet you, Lord Doto,” Xander said, lifting his eyes from the deck as he did so. But instead of fixing on Mejas' gaze once more, he looked at the ill named commander of the Destroyer. “It seems like you have a shortage of able, seasoned commanders in your newly claimed fleet, master,” Drax said, then dropped his voice to a low growl, “So perhaps I could offer you my assistance.”

Drax could see the dark clouds cross before the captain's face as the man began to cross the bridge. As he began to speak, Xander stood.

“I protest, Lord. This is highly irregu...” the man's words were quickly cut off as Xander sharply struck him across the face with the back of his gauntleted hand.

“You will speak when you are allowed by the master, welp,” Xander said to the young officer, “and not before.”

Xander turned to once again face his master, looking for a reply.

Mejas Doto

16-10-2007 21:38:51

As the bleeding officer stood staring at Xander Drax, he was physically shaken, his left hand carefully wiping his burst lip.

What was he to do? Hold his tongue and be defeated by this impetuous, arrogant Dark Jedi who dared to trespass upon his bridge; or should he speak out and face the wrath of the tyrannical Consul who stood before him? But no choice was necessary as the Dark Jedi Master began to speak:

"Dark Jedi Knight Drax, what exactly is it that you think you can offer me?" asked Mejas, his words tainted with sarcasm and malice.

"Lord Consul, your crew is inexperienced and unsure of themselves. I have witnessed one failure already being dealt with. More failures are not an option. For now, I would be honoured to support you and Arcona by commanding this vessel." spoke Xander, his tone humble yet confident.

The Zabrak stared at the Dark Jedi Knight that stood before him. Here was a man whose rank masked his real worth. Mejas could feel Drax's connection to the Dark Side and realised it was underdeveloped. However, his essence soul spoke volumes and his knowledge and experience was vast.

"Credentials." spat the Consul, clearly bored of the idle chit chat.

"Former Vice Admiral in the Emperor's Hammer..." but as he spoke Drax was instantly aware of burning hatred emanating from the Arconan Consul. Remaining calm and Xander continued without drawing attention to what he had picked up, "During my time I served as both Wing Commander and Commodore of the ISD Colossus."

It was clear that the low, visceral growl that Xander could hear was coming from the Consul. "The Emperor's Hammer....ASTATINE.....what do you know of Astatine?" quizzed Mejas.

"I know that he is a weak, paranoid fool who tried to have me tried for treason and then executed. That is why I am with the Dark Brotherhood now. He has lost control and fears any who achieve power around him."

Xander took a deep breath as he watched Mejas mull over his words.

With a simple hand motion, the patiently attentive Captain's admiral stripes were ripped from his uniform with the Force. As the captain gulped he was relieved that at least he had not lost his appendages or his life!

"Xander Drax, you have the bridge. Do not disappoint me!"


16-10-2007 22:10:19

"Osik Sashar!" Kieran cried as he pinned his brother’s form to the doorway of his quarters.

His brother’s eyes locked with his and not for the first time. Brothers not by blood but by something more … something much more than any Dark Jedi or Mandalorian could ever begin to understand. Their glare spelt a plethora of words that the best of scholars could spend millennia on interpreting and still get now where; but Kieran and Sashar knew where they were at.

The squad had changed, Arcona had changed and Galeres had changed in its own right; within structure and the way the house ran but Soulfire had remained themselves. Kieran allowed an inner smile; they were the rock upon which Arcona was built and they could never be toppled. His position granted him more sway than any similarly worthy Jedi in the brotherhood yet his opinion required great labors of him.

As Soulfirian he was expected to perform, to outdo, and to succeed were others would only dream to but then as Sergeant he was expected to do that and more. He did not need enticing; he was Mandalorian and his life had served a purpose from day one, be it to fulfill the wills of the Jedi or the drives of his people he served and with unquestionable duty he would lay his life on the line. The young man had lost count of the times he had spent deployed behind enemy lines without hope of retrieval only to succeed where no others expected him to; he truly was Soulfirian, through and through.

But a different time lay before him. Whilst still leading the best the clan had to offer he had to lament on the foes he would no doubt face, those far away and those perilously close to home. His eyes narrowed as he approached his master, not for his sake but more for his masters. As the newly appointed Proconsul Sashar was under far greater strain that any other clansmen, yet Kieran invited the chance to challenge his brother and at the same time was more than happy to educate him on the formalities of the occasion. Inner fighting and violence was not something the Consul desired the Sergeant knew, but he also knew such factors were the inevitability of rank and must be incurred.


16-10-2007 22:21:18

Illian had watched the proceedings on the main hangar deck of the Eye of the Abyss from the controls of his black star ship Retribution. His interest piqued as he saw the man who would soon be his master, Pro-consul Sasha, cut the arms and legs off a hapless captain, seemingly at the bequest of his new Consul Mejas Doto.

A slow smile played across the Hunters features as he contemplated his situation. After returning from his own business as a rogue he had rejoined his former Clan of Taldryan. They had never truly recognised the full worth of Syn's madness-augmented insight and power, instead treating him like an oddity to be suppressed and contained. His eyes began to glow slightly as he recalled the final conversation he had with the fool who now claimed the title of Quaestor of his old house. They had tried to take Torment, Illian's possessed light-sabre, from him due to his rank (or lack thereof) and he had killed four of his former house-guards. The flight had been chaotic, with Illian only having time to send a brief transmission to his brother Sorrow, detailing his plan.

'We knew Arcona would be here, didn’t we O’ Dark one?' Torment whispered into his mind.

'Yes indeed we did. And judging by the actions of their leaders, we are in the right place. Perhaps its time I introduced myself...' Illian strode purposefully to the ramp of his medium-sized trade-ship, and walked out onto the main hangar deck.

'We need to find our new master, master...' Torment spoke again, this time exploding into a fit of giggles that echoed inside Illian's mind. He could feel a lunatic-smile dancing on his lips, threatening to send him into an attack of insane laughter that would most likely have him incarcerated.

'Silence weapon, or ill leave you in the ship. These could be our new friends, and I don’t want to give away my little secret just yet,' He spoke to the air in front of him, causing a nearby trooper to speak briefly into his communicator. Illian was halfway to the turbo-lift that would take him to the bridge when a group of armed troopers approached him, weapons at the ready.

'Unknown Dark Jedi, please remove all your weapons and place your hands above your head, palms facing inward. We have no record of you or your ship being assets of Arcona, therefore I am placing you under arrest as a spy and a...' The man was cut off as he struggled to form the rest of the words without his throat.

Wiping the bloody mess of gored larynx that now covered one of his cruel gauntlet and the dead man's uniform he addressed the remaining troops.

'I just transferred by invitation of Sashar Erinos. But please, don’t take my word for it. In fact,' the Mad hunter paused as he allowed small trickles of energy to seep into his body through the black-armoured gloves on his fists, his eyes becoming luminescent green and taking on a fire-like quality before he continued, 'by all means gentlemen, come for me as you would a traitor. It seems an age since I last felt the warm flow of blood coating my skin...' Rapture engulfed him as he snarled, and leapt through blaster fire into the un-prepared soldiers.

So now the cat was out of the bag, he thought moments later as he brushed an especially large piece of gore from his fine satin coat and prepared for the next wave of security that was surely on its way. Well they were bound to have found out his mental condition eventually. Now all that remained was to see if they would still accept him into their clan.

Feeling another’s' presence, he spun to find Sasha Erinos and his brother Kieran watching him evenly, roused from their tussel by the sound of troops running towards the hangar. Straightening up, Illian awaited his Pro-consul's evaluation.


17-10-2007 00:30:11

The Dark energies were serging through Rho as he waited to board The Eye of the Abyss. He was angry; full of rage as his mind raced to his recent past events. He wasn't sure what to think of the fact that his Intelligence team – Cabal Cronal, had been disbanded without so much as a note or warning. He had stood by his brother, Orv Dessrx d'Tana, in planing and organizing this team and now it was nothing. The blood and sweat that went into this felt like it was entirely in vein now. His mind was running wild with rage and theories and thoughts of why his former Master, Sashar and the newly appointed Consul, Mejas Doto, had chosen to abolish this team. Yes, it was struggling, but it had only just begun.

Now though, he was on to other things... better things; of that he wasn't sure. But as he looked out the window of the cockpit of his personal ship, the Dagger, he saw The Abyss and a sense of familiarity washed over him even though this huge hunk of metal was new to the Clan. It wasn't the ship he was feeling, it was the presence of the Soulfire members. They were close; scattered, but close and he was anxious to get back to his post with Soulfire. He had acquired some new skills training with Cabal Cronal and he wasn't going to let them go to waste.

Rho received the signal that he was clear to land and began his docking procedure into the hangar. The Dagger was a smaller ship and landed without trouble. While Rho descended from his ship he immediately sensed Sashar's presence and quickly made visual contact. Mejas and Sashar were together and it looked like there was a man with a Captain's rank pinned to the floor. He could not hear anything at the moment but could sense some illusive feelings of anxiety about what was to happen. Rho watched with amazement as his Grey Jedi Master sliced all four limbs from this Captain. The sound of pain and agony brought pleasure to his ears, but not without feeling the connection to Sashar and his guarded pain about what he had just done. Rho knew the Dark Side was eating at Sashar, but he would never admit that.


Rho wandered around the ship for a while trying to get familiarized to these new surroundings. He had been stopped a few times by some crew members wondering who he was, but they soon found out that he was not to be messed with when a trooper ended up with a riffle wrapped around his head. He finally located Kieran's quarters, knowing that he was now the Sergeant of Soulfire. He placed his gear down beside the door and pressed the button to let Kieran know he was there. Not but a second went by when his door opened. They both paused and they looked at each other for a brief moment.
“I'm reporting for duty, sir.” Rho said dryly and formally.
Kieran looked at Rho with a raised eyebrow, “What are you doing? Quit with the formalities! Welcome back to Soulfire, it's great to have you back!”
When Rho had entered Kieran's quarters he noticed Sashar also in the room.
“He's right, Rho, it's good to have you back in Soulfire.” Dash came back with a grin.
Rho's anger over the Cabal re-surfaced, but ultimately was glad to see his former Master knowing they were going to go into battle together again.


17-10-2007 07:18:39

Juda sat solemnly in the Eye of the Abyss’ medic station, his pallid skin glowing under the intense lights as his emerald gaze followed various medical droids go about their business with a drone. The adolescent was clad from the neck down in his Soulfire armour, his helmet resting beside his Lancer Projectile rifle atop of his bench.

The scent of disinfectants was overpowering, that pristine smell. His mind wandered, realising for the first time how much of a strong contrast his atramentous attire gave against his pure white surroundings until a familiar voice broke his silence,

“Judika!” The Mandalorian turned towards the entrance to find a slender Nagai male holding a Verpine Projectile rifle tightly in his grasp,

“Rho!” Juda stood up and returned the welcome to his old friend, it had been weeks, possibly months since the pair last laid eyes on each other. Along with Kieran, the pair were mentored at the same time under Sashar, “It’s been too long”

The Nagai nodded his reply as he watched Juda bolt to life, dashing across the room opening a variety of caches and cabinets before filling his backpack and medical belt with field supplies.

“I’m back on the team.” Rho spoke, his voice almost at a yell.

“I guessed as much” Juda replied pointing at the Nagai’s Soulfire sniper armour with a grin.

“Kieran’s sent for you, I think we’ll be seeing some live-fire action today” Rho continued as Juda finally ran back to his bench and slung his Lancer across his shoulder before tucking his helmet under his arm and ushering Rho out into the corridor, “Y’know we were Jedi Hunter’s last time we were out on the field.”

Juda smiled as his gaze shifted from his medical belt to the hilt that hung loosely on the Nagai’s belt. “It’s good to have you watching over us through your scope again, Rhoika.”


17-10-2007 13:55:35

Desdemonea wandered about the corridors of The Eye of the Abyss aimlessly as she watched the bustle of its crew and passengers. She was clad in her usual attire of a snug fitting leather outfit that lent her mobility as well as protection despite its look. Over her right arm hung her Jedi Robes, marking her as one of Arconas members, though a low ranked one. She twirled one of her litch blades in her left paw, a habit she had picked up from life on the streets before she joined the Brotherhood. Her emerald gazed followed a Jedi as they maneuvered past her on some errand or another. Her feline ears twitched back and forth, taking in the sounds of her paw-steps as well as the other noises that moved around her. She had picked up whisperings that the Consul wanted to speak with her but as of yet they hadn’t found one another to do so. While she wasn’t sure why he wished to she had an idea, he had recently come into the position and was more than likely “getting to know” his underlings. She snorted lightly, not really knowing said consul except by the way others spoke of him, therefore not sure if she trusted him just yet.

As she continued forward labored breathing come from in front of her caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed as she stopped her movement to wait and see who it was. She put herself against the wall, as if she was simply leaning there. As the creature turned the corner he skidded to a stop, not missing the female that was “resting” in the hall way. He eyed her up and down before looking at a piece of paper he was holding. After a moment he studied her again then handed her another missive before hurrying off to some other duty. She sneered watching him move off, waiting until he was out of sight before she glanced down to read what he handed her. Her eyes quickly scanned it, flicking up after doing so and looking around. She pushed herself off of the wall, straightening her attire before moving off at a quick pace to her destination.

As she moved she scanned the faces that moved past her and that she moved past, she didn’t know many in this clan even after having been here for some time now. She didn’t call many friends and even those she hadn’t done so easily. No one stopped to greet her to see that she was ok or to say they were happy to see she survived but she didn’t expect it either. She arrived at the bridge in time to see the man that summoned her dismiss one of his crew. She waited a moment before moving forward, sheathing her litch blade as she did, knowing to have it out in his presence might mean death. She kept her eyes averted from his form slightly, not wanting to seem as if she was being insubordinate. However her gaze stayed on the one he dismissed, not quite sure who this was. She stopped a few paces from the two, waiting to be addressed by her new Consul as she studied the newly appointed captain.


17-10-2007 14:24:24

He’d left the bridge with the ascension of the new captain: Xander could handle the pre-flight checks and the more time he spent around Mejas the more he felt his control slipping – the darkness about him was intoxicating, addictive, enticing. Mejas was indeed the Shadow Lord, his mastery of Shadowcrafting would eventually be Sashar’s undoing, and they both knew it.

He’d intended to talk to Kieran, get his brother to sort his head out, however his former apprentice had other ideas, and after a brief tussle the pair had settled in to talk, and the arrival of Rho was a welcome change. A spike in the force interrupted the reunion however. Someone had just died. Brutally.

“Fierfek! What was that?” Kieran said as he stood and drew his SSK-7 in one smooth move. Rho looked similarly alarmed.

There were similar ripples as more deaths briefly disturbed the equilibrium of the force on board the destroyer and Sashar’s mind instantly went to Mejas, suspecting him of ‘disciplining’ further members of the crew, however the surge of manic emotion wasn’t the cool, icy arrogant certainty Mejas exuded – this was…unbalanced. It was something else entirely.

The force urged him to the hangar with an impatience Sashar likened to that of a small child – he often saw the force as just that, an immature set of emotions that were seemingly arbitrary in the sides they took – it irritated him the more he perceived it.

“Rho, find Zandro and Juda and get to the Hangar. Kieran and I will scout it out.”


Sashar arrived with his brother in time to see a dandified psychopath calmly awaiting judgement, surrounded by the mutilated remains of what had once been five green security officers.

He and Kieran exchanged looks, and in perfect synchrony drew their SSK-7 blaster pistols from hip holsters, aiming at the assailant with a two-handed grip on their weapons.

“Identify yourself!” Kieran shouted as they advanced.

“I’m here by your companion’s invitation.” He stated calmly, his saber humming in his hand.

Sashar blinked in momentary confusion, and then said calmly “drop him.”

In unison the pair of Mandalorians opened fire with a hail of stun bolts, and the psychopath was felled, unable to fend off so many bolts with a weapon he was unused to.

“’the shab was that, Sash’ika?” Kieran asked as he holstered his blaster and moved over to the unconscious form, prodding him with his toe.

“Not a clue, vod. Strap him up, put him in the med-ward’s secure containment cell, confiscate his weapons, and I’ll deal with him presently. Also, keep the mundanes away from him.” Sashar said, already pulling out his comlink to deal with the mess the intruder had made.

Before he could open a channel to the bridge, the ship lurched into Hyperspace.


17-10-2007 17:53:36

Zandro’s booted feet were drowned out by the drone of the engines as the Eye entered Hyperspace. His pace quickened as he contemplated what might be happening, his commlink already to his lips and set to the Bridge channel as he strode towards the hangar where he had been summoned.

“Bridge, this is Warrior Erinos. Why have we just entered hyperspace and where exactly are we headed?”

“Well, good to see you aren’t dead Erinos. We’re heading towards the distress signal in the Shroud, is that a problem?”

“Good to hear from you too Xander. No, won’t be a problem, but can I ask a favour? Can you send a message for me?”

“Depends what it is really.”

“I need you to send a message to Quejo Bandon for me, telling him where we are heading.”

There was a pause on the comm as the other man tried to comprehend what was being asked of him.

“Are you sure? I thought you hated the guy, and he’s not exactly going to please Mejas by being there because he belongs to some other Clan.”

“Trust me, Mejas will be pleased. And I’m willing to put my feelings aside for the good of the Clan, just do it for me. Zandro out.”

Remember, this is for the Clan. We all need him, even if it may seem weird. Stick to your gut instincts, and you can’t go far wrong.

Stowing the commlink once more on his belt, Zandro moved off towards the hangar, stretching out with the Force towards his half-brother to try and get a feel for why he was being summoned.


17-10-2007 19:01:08

Acheron stood on the balcony of his Master's estates on Yridia IV. A great many thoughts flickered across the face of the Archpriest. The polished steel mask shone in the sunlight, when a call came through for him in his quarters. Moving into the room, he touched a spot on the desk and his Master's form shimmered to life before him.

"Acheron, you are to report to the Eye of the Abyss at once," the zabrak growled.

Nodding slightly, Acheron responded, "Alone, Master?"

The zabrak shook his head, "Summon the Dark Inquisitors. Our Phyle will at last be tested just as Arcona requires. Do not make me wait any longer than I need to, Acheron..."

"At once, Master," the Archpriest responded automatically, but the Dark Jedi Master was already gone.

He opened all channels to the training grounds and sleeping quarters, "Inquisitors, report to the hangar for immedaite departure. I don't care if you're half dressed. Get to the hangar now."

Closing the links, he pulled the hood of his cloak over the mask. Moving through the halls, he listened quietly to the bustle of personnel scrambling to follow his orders.


He sat quietly in the ship while the members of the Inquisitors watched him carefully, hoping for some smidgen of information about their assignment. Looking up, he met the stares without blinking. Shaking his head, he moved to his private quarters and shut himself inside.

Master must be in serious need of people to help... Acheron wondered. Calling all of us in like this...I wonder what the trouble is. I thought we were simply his eyes and ears. Most of these people aren't much use in combat.

He knelt down on the floor, his eyes closed slightly as he began meditating. He focused his energies and quieted his mind. It was not his place to question his Master. He was simply to obey commands and to deal swift terrible justice to those who went against him.

As the ship departed for the co-ordinates that were sent Acheron wondered how he got his appointment as Lord High Inquisitor. Everything before that seemed to be something of a blur. Almost like his memories had been erased and all he had were glimpses to work on. He had no idea where his fighting skills came from, or why he had so much latent power.

"What the hell is going on?" Acheron growled.

He stood slowly, moving to the desk in his private quarters. He sat there pensively, removing the mask from his face and setting it on the desk. He touched the left side of his face slightly, feeling the scars on his face. He became suddenly angry at them and replaced the perfection of the mask on his face once more. He slammed his fist on the desk and opened a channel to the bridge, "Get this ship moving faster or I will desecrate your body in ways you could never imagine!"

Closing the link without receiving a response, he sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.


17-10-2007 22:25:04

Illian was mildly surprised when he looked down and saw the blaster levelled at him in his Pro-consul’s hands. He was extremely surprised when Sashar shot him with it. Torment was active, he was vaguely aware, clumsily trying to defend him but to no avail. The spirit had very little actual control over Illian's limbs, being more of a guide, and the shots came far too fast. Soon he was falling to his knees, eyes still wide with shock. Just before darkness descended, he distantly felt the lurch that signalled a hyper-drive jump.

He awoke in the medical centre of the Eye, strapped down firmly onto an examination pallet. His coat and shirt had been taken, and a surge of panick engulfed Illian as he desperately strained his neck to see his hands. Relief quickly took over as the twisted gauntlets that were his prison and his salvation came into view, still strapped securely to his arms and fists. Shifting his view he took in his surroundings. He was trapped alright, and given his outburst there was little chance of luring a nurse or doctor into the room, let alone close enough to undo the straps. Distantly, in the back of his mind, a voice spoke.

'It seems, master that we are in bit of trouble... Away from the constant flow of dark energy in your gauntlets... I... I am fading.' Torment, the encased spirit of Sith Lord Hydras Kor, seemed afraid.

'Yes we are. It seems, blade, that you and I are going to have to come to a better arrangement,' Illian said, sure to transmit it only through his mind. 'It was providence, us finding Arcona after our flight, and we cannot waste this opportunity.'

'Agreed. A new deal then. I will get more control over your body, share more sensations, and experience a small portion of *life* outside the confines of this twisted metal mockery of skin...' the spirit trailed off muttering ancient curses, as Illian finished his sentence.

'...And I will get a measure of control, through your heightened presence in my head, over my... condition.'

'Then it is done.' The possessed sabre seemed to sigh as it became even more prominent in the young Hunter's body, mind and soul. 'You need to return me to you soon or I will be no more. Perhaps she can help...' It trailed off and Illian looked up sharply to see the homely features of an Arconan nurse staring back at him, holding a clip-board and carrying a field medical kit. 'She mustn’t have been warned about you. Quick, this is you're chance! Kill her, take...'

'Be silent. It was that kind of thinking that got us into this mess,' Illian silenced the spirit silently while he made a show of coughing violently. 'Please, some water. My throat is so very dry...' Sure enough after a moment she tentatively stepped into the room, searching her board for his patient details. Shaking her head, she placed the papers on the bed and set about removing the straps, much to Illian’s disbelief. Too easy by far. The last strap came off and two happened simultaneously: Sashar and Kieran stepped into the room to interrogate their prisoner, and one of the mad hunter’s spiked gloves shot out towards the hapless nurse.

'Get back you fool!' the Pro-consul shouted at the woman as he and Kieran raised their blasters, but she seemed transfixed in place. Inwardly cursing the Mandalore circled round for a clear shot... and stopped.

'I am most obliged my dear,' Syn said as he held the nurse's hand to his lips. She was blushing as she averted her eyes straight to Sashar's gun and nearly jumped into Illian's lap.

'My lord Pro-consul!' She started, 'please lower your weapons! This is a place of healing!'

'You are dismissed.' Sashar's eyes had not left the silver haired sociopath still sitting calmly on the pallet. The nurse made to argue, but thought better of it, leaving the three Dark Jedi Alone. 'What is going on here? Identify yourself.' The man stood up and bowed deeply.

'My name is Illian Syn, formerly of Taldryan, now pledged in the service of Arcona. My apologies for my earlier behaviour. I am confident it will not happen again'

'Until we want it to,' both he and Torment chorused in his mind,

'I am in your service, *Master* Sashar. Now with your permission may I ask what in the hells is going on?'


18-10-2007 01:09:02

Coordinates arrived on the Navi-Computer of the Warlord. He was still trying to figure out why he had been summoned by one of his known Enemies. He remained reluctant as he set a course for the Abyss, his Vessel giving new meaning to the word 'haste'

Brown hair fell down over his war-torn visage as he quickly flicked switches and pressed buttons located on the Control Console, his free hand opening the throttle to 100%. Legacy shook, her seams rattling as the Warlord relentlessly began to weave around chunks of Starfighters, open space rendered a graveyard by the recent Vong Invaders.

Time quickly passed and Quejo could see the Abyss creeping through the darkness like an Apparition. He looked on in a state of wonder as his gaze fell upon a Vessel he thought he would never see again. He could feel the familiar presence of Arconan blood, pride slowly filling him as he called out to the Command Deck.

"This is Quejo Rak'ul Drakai, Prototype - Legacy, requesting permission to dock."

Moments passed before he received any sort of response. He was somewhat cautious because he knew what Master Doto would do to whomever he labeled a Traitor. An eerie, almost hollow voice sounded within the Cockpit of Drakai.

"Permission granted."

Lowering his throttle to almost a creep, Quejo docked, the shrill cry of Legacy's engines slowing filled the Bay and a hiss erupted from her cockpit window as the Warlord crawled out, his feet falling upon forgotten terrain.

As he strode forward, the blue cape of his Royal Guard Armor flowed behind him, caught in the wake of a self-created breeze, his fingers running through his hair as he readied his Lightsaber in his cold embrace. He was unsure of Zandro's intentions so thought it wise to stay on his guard.

"Where's your Summit?" He barked to one of the Technicians....The only reply he got was a point, directing him towards a large set of stairs.

Kant Lavar

18-10-2007 13:20:49

Kant Lavar glided his new E-wing into the bay of the Eye of the Abyss, and settled it into the corner of the bay he got assigned to - as a mere Acolyte, he had to walk to get anywhere, as opposed to the more senior members who rated landing closer to the bank of turbolifts on the opposite wall. Lavar locked down his systems, told his equally new R7 unit (who Lavar hadn't come up with a good name for yet) to keep an eye on the ship, and popped the canopy. The hull was a little shinier and a little slicker than normal - one of the few customizations he'd had made to the ship was to have a sensor-absorbant coating put on the hull. It didn't help against direct visual observation, and it was only slightly harder to pick up with a ship's sensor array, and if his hull took damage he'd start losing the layer real fast. But it was cheap, easy, and helped on occasion.

Lavar climbed out, settling his gunbelt around his waist and grabbing his outer cloak from underneath his seat and leaving his helmet on the console, and started for the bank of turbolifts, intent on finding someone with more of a clue than he had at the moment. I'm getting too old for this...

Mejas Doto

18-10-2007 20:28:20

As Mejas retired to his quarters he reminisced over the solitude and silence that the Shadow Realm had offered him. Living in the heart of the Abyss, devoid of corporeal form was a far greater existence for a Shadow Master like himself. No others had attained the same level of Mastery as the Zabrak, so no others could understand. Only one of the Grand Master's could have any insight into understanding the Arconan Consul's plight.

However, this was no time for brooding. Mejas's fierce loyalty and fundamentalist devotion to Arcona had brought him back to his Clan - indeed, back to its helm. It had been many years since the Zabrak had first left to further his knowledge and ascend to the level of Shadow Master. He was a different person now, a different Consul. He was quieter, calmer, more focused and refined but at the same time ever more twisted and brutal than before. His Proconsul had realised this first hand. It was definitely going to be interesting bringing Sashar Kodiak Erinos further into the heart of darkness.

As Mejas ran his hands across the ancient cover of the Abyssal Tome set before him, Xander Drax's voice was heard over the comm channel.

"Lord Consul, we will be exiting hyperspace in 3 minutes. I will deliver the "Eye" directly to the co-ordinates you instructed." spoke Xander, once more confident, smooth and calm in his demeanour.

"Very good Quaestor Drax. You have delivered us as you said you would and in doing so you have avoided my wrath and earned my confidence." growled Mejas, his gravelly voice delivering praise to the Qel-Droma Quaestor.

"Shall I summon the Clan for you Lord Consul?" asked Xander.

"That will not be necessary. My Children of Chaos are not sheep to be herded. I will speak straight to their twisted souls." snapped Mejas, "...however I do need you to instruct Soulfire to accompany Illian Syn and Quejo Bandon to the Throne Room."

"As you command, Lord Consul."


The throne room was barren except for the dais on which the Serpentine Throne was located. Mejas had ordered the throne to be moved from Selen to the throne room - something the crew would have to get used to doing. As Mejas walked up to sit on the throne, he looked over the marvel he had won for Clan Arcona many years ago. The throne itself was a true marvel of artistry, standing a full four meters tall from the crest of the high back, to each stout foot. It was forged from carefully interwoven cast silver and wrought iron to give it a contrasting light/dark look, with each material shaped like a pair of coiled serpents. The grim visages of these serpents form the arms of the mighty throne with the end portion of their tales reaching up to the top of the throne, where they curl around a large piece of obsidian, carefully carved into the shape of the Great Seal of the Brotherhood.

Taking a deep breath in, Mejas sat on the throne he had once consecrated with Oracle Trevarus Caerick. Closing his eyes and resting his hands on the great serpents’ heads, Mejas could feel the life force, hear the thoughts and speak straight to the minds of every Arconan throughout the galaxy.

"My Children of Chaos, any minute we will be exiting from hyperspace. We will be delivered directly at the edge of the Shroud where we will attract the attention and assault of our enemies. Do not fear this decision. The Yuzhaan Vong may have toppled Antei, but Arcona will not fall today. We will divert the attention of these wretched beasts and destroy as many of them as we can. Soulfire Strike Team will be on a covert mission to rendezvous with the survivors who have summoned us. As soon as they return, we will be gone and we will be stronger because of it, both in numbers and spirit. Rise up now each and every one of you, fight for your Clan, fight for your Brotherhood and let us bathe in the blood of the fallen..."


19-10-2007 01:48:01

As the Warlord reached the top of the stairs he could see members of Soulfire gathered at the entrance of a Turbolift. While he could feel that their intentions were docile, he maintained his grip on the hilt of his Lightsaber. Though he learned at an early age to trust in his feelings, he also knew that at times they could be deceiving. Hollow black eyes locked onto the group that approached him. The corners of his mouth creeping upward to form a sadistic smile.

Three Knights and a Prelate Drakai thought to himself..Should this break into a fight the outcome would be quite interesting to say the least He finished, hearing the words of the Leader ring down the cooridor in which they were walking.

"Bandon...I'm afraid you'll need to come with us...We're to escort you to the Throne Room." Snapped the fearless Leader..

Drakai nod his head in compliance as he stepped into the Turbolift, the smirk frozen to his face as Malidir's fingers pressed a button, causing the lift to ascend deeper into the bowls of the Abyss.

"Malidir....How long's it been my friend?" He spat, eyeing the rest of the "posse" unfamiliar faces adjusting their gaze to the cocky harbinger of pain.


The Proconsul's deep brown eyes locked onto the Jedi Hunter standing before him.

"You're to be escorted to the Throne room...You will need to go with Soulfire once they arrive." Sashar spoke, Xander's message reaching his ears..

"As you wish" Syn replied...

As the two finished their conversation the hiss of blastdoors signaled the arrival of Soulfire and the Veteran Sith. Somewhat reluctantly Syn strode out to meet them in the hallway, the doors closing behind him as they ventured onward towards the Throne Room..

A chill ran up the spine of Drakai as he felt an all too familiar presence..He had fought and served with Master Doto in the past and knew that he wasnt as forgiving as some of the other Arconan's had been thusfar, hoping however that the meeting would go well.

Soulfire stopped at the entrance as Quejo and IIIian stepped into the Throne Room....It was dark, the very essence of the room chilling, menace seeping from the very walls. Quickly the expression on the Warlord's face switched to the most serious of looks, his hand guiding the hilt of his Saber back down to his belt as he stepped forward.

As he approached the Throne he dropped to one knee.

"Master..." The Rogue greeted. It was all he could say...Keeping it simple would suffice until being properly noticed by the Consul pirched in his seat of power.


19-10-2007 02:55:11

Illian, for the first time in a very long time, felt numb as his Master Sashar relayed the events of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion and the loss of Antei to his pupil. The members of Soul fire remained quiet as the party marched towards Mejas Doto's throne room, each re-living their own horrors of the war, meeting up with Quejo along the way.

'Now we are trying to replenish the clan's ranks, and survivors have contacted the Eye from the shroud. We are going to get them back.' The mandalorian glanced across at his new apprentice, but Illian was far to withdrawn to give it any notice. The only thing his mind could conjure was the last transmission he had received from Yavin 4 before fleeing into an isolated star-system during his rogue months, the words of Skywalker echoing through his mind.

'Nareid is alive and she's forgiv...' Illian had cut the transmission then and fled as far as he could, his mind nearly collapsing with the psychological ramifications of those simple words. It could have been a ploy of course, but something deep in the Hunter's fractured soul told him otherwise. Now she really was dead, most likely taken by the Yuuzhan Vong. A familiar yet different madness began to overcome him as they arrived in the throne room, forcing him to stop, armoured hands fumbling for the wall. For once Torment was silent, knowing how close the Dark Jedi was to a complete mental collapse, as a tear forced itself down Syn's cheek. Loss, fear, anger, were all part of a Dark Jedi's arsenal, but after feeling nothing but the gnawing agony of pure insanity for so long the influx of emotion was devastating.

Sashar watching silently, eyes slowly hardening, while Quejo knelt before the Consul

'Stand up straight *Hunter*. Compose yourself and stop snivelling like a mundane,' he whispered coldly. Illian just stared straight ahead, muttering one word.

'Nareid...' With a start he was broken from his daze by his Pro-consul's fist slamming into his stomach then following up to his neck, pinning him to the wall with his feet a foot off the floor, wheezing and coughing.

'I gave you and order *Arconan*. We all lost something in this war, but we are still here. Now act like you have some pride or I will kill you where you stand.' He released Illian and waited for the Journeyman's response. Burning emeralds shone from behind the Hunters lids as the Hunter slowly straightened out.

'I want their heads Master, all of them. I want their *pain*, their *SUFFERING*! I want their blooood...' The obelisk hissed. Sashar nodded grimly, pleased at the outcome.

'You want blood? He will show you the way,' he pointed at the Consul, 'and you spill it in the name of Arcona.' Not another word was spoken as the group waited to receive their Consul's commands.

Distantly, in the back of Illian's mind, Torment laughed as it felt the change in his host. No longer was Illian Syn controlled, but neither was he a drifting mad-man aimlessly directing his psychosis at whim. Now he had a purpose, a target, and soon the Yuuzhan Vong would find out just how dangerous and depraved one mad Jedi could be.


19-10-2007 05:34:07

“Why did I return”Mocap silently questions to himself as his modified x-wing drops out of hyperspace. Pulling back his hood, he flips on the com ling to his wingman who breaks out into real space after him. “Ramina, are you sure you want to do this. You know they wont be as inviting as I was,” the com light flashed brightly illuminating the dark cockpit with every word he spoke.
“Yes, I know, however if you still have friends in Arcona then this trip was not a total loss.” Ramina knew the problematic fact that Mocap was listed as going rouge when he returned to his home world would not be met with open arms by his fellow clan brothers. The fact of the matter was he had abandoned one family for another. Shortly before his unwarranted disappearance from the brotherhood Mocap was sent a message from his childhood guardian relating the current situation wherein his best friend was captured by apposing Jedi invaders. The Jedi tried to enforce there own brand of justice on his home world, many fought back, most died. During his time back home he met a brave female warrior with Jedi powers, later to find out she was a Jedi master who had lost a great deal of her connection to the force. Basing your draw on the force solely on the belief of good and just and having those beliefs ruined be the teacher who instilled them had a vary painfully scar rending her temporarily unable to use the force.
“You say that like we are all a bunch of friends who haven't seen each other in a while,” Mocap gently retorted,”the fact is though I still have a few friends, the next best thing is acquaintance of opportunity who would kill us both for a promotion or for fun. And to top it all off the leaders are most likely pissed off by my desertion.” We both set silently as our ships drifted towards the large war ship. As we grew ever closer to our inevitability the com reopened.
“Unidentified fighters, state your name and intentions or be fired upon.” The com went silent again. “Ah, Mocap, Arconian protector with me is wingman Ramina.” Mocap was unsure how the dock operator would take this. “I have no listing for either your rank nor do I have a listing for your space crafts.” The operate seemed to be curious rather than upset. The two ships were illegally re id'ed and heavily modified x-wings for long distance flight and space fighting. The Jade Dragoon, piloted by Mocap bared a heavy green paint job. The dragon logo of his people gleamed atop the cold battled damaged metal creating the wing span. Fallowing close behind was the Violet Dragon piloted by Ramina.
“Search the rogue or deserters section of the list, im sure you will find my name with a star by it,” Mocap had a slight laugh in his voice. “Well with all the coming and going you best be on your toes, some on this ship no longer have that opportunity. Dock in bay five.”
That was the first and last I spoke to that man. When I think about the lac of interaction between people it reminds me of how futile life is. As we enter the dock and prepare for the unknown I find it ironic that all the endings of lives that are about to commence will be the beginning of so many more.
“Don't worry Mocap, whats the worst that could happen........?”


19-10-2007 07:59:10

The Throne room was perfectly silent as Illian and Quejo knelt mutely in obscurity, even in the dim light the sweat that formed across their foreheads was evident as Consul Mejas Doto looked down on them from his perch upon his throne, revelling in the darkness that seemed to choke the room. This in itself was torture, the silence was almost unbearable as Mejas finally stood and stepped down to their level.

“Leave us” Mejas hissed at his assigned bodyguard, Malidir, who simply nodded his reply and promptly left the room.

The Zabrak’s black robes seemed to flow of it’s own accord as he paced in front of the Dark Jedi, his visage void of any emotion until abruptly he stopped and signalled for them to rise.

“My Lord Consul-” Quejo’s voice was met with a sinister stare until suddenly a sleek, black tentacle formed from Mejas’ shadow shot out towards the Sith’s throat and coiled around his neck with a taut grasp.

“You will speak when spoken to, Warlord!” Mejas spat, his lips curling and eyes widening with excitement as the shadow-fashioned limb twisted it’s grip tighter around Quejo’s neck, the Sith Warlord gasped for breath as he tried to pry the force from his throat.

Illian’s gaze shifted to the durasteel floor as Mejas focused his attention toward the Jedi Hunter while releasing Quejo, causing the tentacle to dissipate into his shadow, dropping Quejo to the floor breathless.

“Why have you come to me?” Mejas hissed, posturing himself into a firm stance.

“To pledge our allegiance, my Lord” Illian choked,

Illian looked up to find Mejas raising his hands, unbeknownst to the Dark Jedi, the Zabrak Consul was performing an old Shadow Crafting technique dubbed; The Shaded Mind. The Jedi stumbled slightly as he suddenly became filled with anxiety and instilled with fear, the room swirled into a void of crimson mist and darkness, sweat ran down the nape of the Jedi Hunter's neck down to his back as he closed his eyes, trying his best to rid these feelings.

Illian’s heart pounded, a cold fever overcame him as he dropped to his knees, trying to swallow the lump in his throat until abruptly the mist vanished and facing him, inches from his face was Mejas’ pale cyan face, his eyes hungry for fear.

“I am your greatest fear, Jedi Hunter.” Mejas snapped, bearing his jagged teeth through a crooked grin, “Failure to Arcona will result in a living nightmare!”

With this Mejas calmly drifted to his throne, the heavy atmosphere following his trail,

“I accept your loyalties to Arcona.” Mejas turned slightly so his gaze was set upon the two Jedi, “You will not let me down.”

“Of course not my Lord.” Quejo stammered,

“Now leave.


Juda stood, in formation alongside the rest of Soulfire outside of Mejas’ chambers, his eyes locked onto the illustrious lightsaber hilt that was hooked to Sashar's belt.

“I am tired of waiting, Master” Juda said under his breath, Sashar turned his head slightly and at the same tone and pitch simply replied;

“Have patience.”

“But Master, we are the Elite, why must we wait around like trained guard?” Juda asked, sorting his medical belt into a neat order.

“Exactly for that reason.” Sashar replied, brushing his jet hair with his free hand. Juda paused for a moment to take in the answer before protesting further.

“Mas-” Juda was cut of by the shift of his Master’s eyebrow before Sashar leaned closer,

“Do not let your naivety get the better of you, Judika. Have you forgotten what happened with Bendak?”

“I am not Bendak” Juda said, changing his stance slightly.

“Evidently” Sashar replied, “You are still breathing."


19-10-2007 13:48:31

The demonic faceplate of his helmet hid the grin that had spread across his face as he picked up on his brothers’ conversation. Where Sashar saw naivety he saw pride. Kieran made no apologies for encouraging his team to walk around as though they were the best. Kieran had trained and trained with some of the best the Galaxy had to offer and knew the importance of self-belief and pride; something which the clan was currently void of. However, since the appointment of the new Lord Consul there had been a stirring in the force, even now he could feel the tendrils of energy of anticipation quivering and frothing but still out of sight. In the short weeks Kieran had learnt to see passed the ominous gloom that surrounded Lord Doto and to feed upon it. Even outside his overlord’s chambers he could feel the dark wrath within, but daren’t to train an ear on the conversation should Mejas detect his intrusion into his private sanctum; instead his concentration returned to his brothers.

Osik Sashar, you know as well as I do we have no place for this,” Juda continued to press his Master.

“Yes we are a combat squad, but there are certain duties that every squad must perform that they disdain,” Sashar retorted.

“Yes, but we’re not any squad,” Juda’s comment broadening the Sergeant’s grin still further, who received a quick sideways glance from the Proconsul who did not need to see his brother’s face to read his emotions.

“And that is why we defend the Consul; do you think they would trust this sort of thing to any of the other teams?” Sashar tried appealing to his ever darkening apprentice’s ego.

“But Mast-” but before Juda could continue Kieran decided he would step into the conversation sensing the waves of discomfort that were ploughing out into the force, fearful for being deemed as a weak leader by their tyrannical Lord Consul.

Jud’ika, yes we guard the Consul because we are the best,” Kieran began stroking the young man’s ego once, “but we also guard him because he cannot trust anyone with being so close to his inner sanctum.”

Kieran paused momentarily to remove his helmet to disguise the chuckle that gripped him momentarily as he felt his second in command’s pride rise.

“There will be blood soon enough,” he turned to look the pale skinned Jedi in the face and his gaze turned to Sashar as he continued, “and you forget, the Galaxy is on its knees, we’re in the middle of a war and pretty well as much on the back foot as one could possibly be. Have no fear, there’ll be fighting soon. Oh, and frankly I would have thought this bickering was below a Proconsul and a two-i-see,” the last comment finishing as usual in the Mandalorian Sergeant’s cheeky grin.

“Oh and the rank elevation has not gone to your head at all then?” Sashar shot back.

“Gone to my head? I wasn’t aware my ego could have gotten any bigger even before I was Sergeant?” Kieran grinned.

“I’m surprised you’re still alive, if I had your ego it’d drive me to killing myself,” Rho cut in, bringing mixed feelings of a stung pride and a comfort that one of their best had returned to the nest.

“What? But think of all the women who’d top themselves after finding out that their dream man no longer existed?” Kieran beamed to his team, hands on hip and received nothing but a choked splutter from the Proconsul.

“You can shut up, you’re just grouchy because I wouldn’t change our parade kit to a pink trim,” the Mandalorian beamed.


19-10-2007 21:52:40

Enraged by the simple fact that his power had already been underestimated and that he was viewed as a sniveling coward, he stormed out of the Throne Room, his Lightsaber drawn as he passed by Soulfire.

"Out of my way!" He roared with malicious intent, his eyes burning with hatred as he stalked down the Cooridor.

He had known Mejas for years and knew that he was indeed a violent man but so was he....He had slain many and was angered by the new blood of Arcona thusfar. He had done many thing's for the Clan and coming back to swear his allegiance because he was forced to by the Consul was not what he wanted. Though Mejas had unbridled power and understanding of Shadow Crafting, Quejo did too. In no way should he of allowed himself to be succumbed to the grasp of Doto, however he did nothing towards his Consul because he knew that without a shadow of a doubt he would've been slain...Not by Soulfire but by the Zabrak himself.

His Armor shimmered in the light of the Abyss' hall's as he made his way to his vessel. He would fight for Clan Arcona and no other. He swore his allegiance to the Clan once more and the former di Tenebrous Arconae would indeed hunt down and destroy as many Vong as he could. They had one purpose....Destruction, their heathen Gods all but a story giving them a false sense of invincibility. Quejo had fought the Vong in the recent War and hated them as much as they hated the Brotherhood.

The Qel-Droman had plans of his own however...A Sadistic snarl crossed his lips as he pulled a Commlink from his belt....

"Interested in tasting blood old friend?" Quejo growled, his voice low and commanding as he called to not only one of his Friends but a former Sergeant of Soulfire...An Arconan who was eager to return...


19-10-2007 21:54:10

A lone and indistinguishable TIE drifted through the depths space as it's engines sputtered and sizzled with a lack of energy. All power but life support and communications was shut off in order to keep any tails from following the 'damaged' ship and so far, it had been successful. Within the cockpit, two ice blue eyes studied a pin representing a Summit position from one of the six Clans and began to fill with hate. Tendrils of the Force began to slide around the object as it was lifted from the grasp of the man holding it. The pin began to tremble as the Force sank into and began to pull the metal object in on itself, until the pin was but a small orb of junk. Tossing it to the side, the man turned his attention to his console as he saw a flash of red signifying a message attempt. The blue eyes narrowed and he ignored the attempt at first, but when it came again, he gave up and pressed the red pulsating button.

"Interested in tasting blood, old friend? " It was Quejo Drakai, an old ally back in his days of Clan Arcona.

Thoughts drifted back to those times which quickly led to anger welling up inside of the eyes once more. Instead of dwelling on the past, though, he shoved the memories to the side and pressed a few more buttons in order to send out a response. After the set up was right, he hesitated before giving in and responding to Quejo's hail. He at first didn't know what to say, or even what Quejo was referring to, but anything was better than what he was doing now; waiting.

"What do you want, Quejo. I'm a very busy man."

"Oh get over yourself, Ethran. You're never busy anymore, " came the retort followed by a series of verbal coordinates. "Just get yourself to these ASAP. "

"Sounds like you're giving an comrade an order again. No matter..." Ethran remarked with a slight chuckle. "Hmmm...this is where the Eye of the Abyss is supposed to be. Looks as if fortune is actually playing in my favor, for once."

Sayre quickly severed the link, charged all the TIE's systems, and input the coordinates as his ship began to quiver with life. Moments later, the warped view of hyper-space shot into existence as the TIE blinked out of sight. The journey wasn't too long, but a matter of time later, the TIE blinked back into view as it approached a large Star Destroyer. Not ready to take any drastic measures, Ethran simply waited to be confronted by the ship's communications officer(s) before doing anything. Sure enough, words flooded the cockpit as Ethran shook his head at the gruff voice.

"This is Prelate Ethran Isradia requesting counsel with Master Doto."

A few moments afterwards, authorization to dock with the ship was given and Ethran took his TIE in closer in order to land within the massive star dreadnaught.


21-10-2007 12:18:39

The Mandalorian Exarch chuckled slightly at Quejo’s angry display – he knew all too well what Mejas’s mood could do to a man, especially when applied to one with such a notoriously short fuse as Quejo’s.

Illian’s reaction was a lot different. He emerged from the chamber looking introspective, however the more perceptive could still see that glimmer of gears working behind the eyes, their twisted teeth biting in new ways one couldn’t hope to possibly fathom. The levels of insanity inside the human’s head were many and layered, and it would eventually take more than a pair of gloves to restrain such unbalanced potential.

Kier’ika, I’ll meet you and the squad in the armoury presently. I just have a few things to take care of first.” Sashar said, gesturing for Syn to follow him as he followed in Quejo’s footsteps towards the hangar. He already had a familiar tingling at the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in a while – he didn’t like it one bit.

He hastened his pace.


Juda, Kieran, Malidir, Rho and Xar’Kahn were changing into their armour when the red-haired youth abruptly looked up, his finely honed sense of the force spiking – Sashar was angry. He was more than angry, he was furious.

“Sarge…” He murmured, and Kieran looked up questioningly from checking his pack.

“Sashar’s pissed. I’ve not felt him like this since he faced Torrent. I’m guessing Zandro can feel it too.”

“Fantastic. I hate it when he throws hissy fits. Right then boys, suit up and double-check your gear – looks like we’ll be needed sooner than we thought.”


By the time he reached the hangar, Sashar was certain of it. Illian was struggling to keep up with the Mandalorian’s wide gait, and almost had to jog a few steps, ruffling his perfectly kept overcoat slightly.

Zandro had felt Sashar coming, and sensing an explosion was prepared. Unfortunately, Sashar wasn’t having any of it.

“Not now, ’vod, this is personal.”

“Shab that, you selfish di’kut, you don’t know why he’s here.”

Sashar’s eyes flashed dangerously as he yanked his lightsaber from his belt. It was all too clear what he intended to do. Whilst Zandro could probably match his half-brother blow for blow in lightsaber combat, he knew that facing him like this would be a mistake – he needed reinforcements. Shaking his head in frustration he turned away – but not before grabbing Illian by the upper arm.

“He’s about to do something very, very stupid. Stay back for now.” Zandro advised. It looked for a moment that the psychopathic youth would argue with his Quaestor, however he’d heard stories of the Warrior’s battle acumen and focused ferocity in single combat. These were enough to stay his hand.

The battered, bruised fighter set down on the gleaming black surface of the hangar deck, but Sashar waved away the maintenance crew, his eyes locked on the ball cockpit, his saber dormant in his left hand. He didn’t stop; instead his pace quickened until he broke into a sprint and pressed the activator on his blade just before shoving it through the transparisteel viewport.

His opponent was quick off the mark. The top of the fighter sprang off and Ethran Isradia let the force carry him in an augmented jump out of the wounded craft and over his antagonist’s head, landing behind him, saber already ignited.

“Some things never change.” He spat as Sashar withdrew his saber and turned to face Esca. The Mandalorian let his saber talk for him, slashing overhead in a heavy Shii-Cho batter-cut that the stronger being was easily able to stave off. However, before he could riposte and reply with his own slash, Sashar called deeply into the force, blasting him in the face with a telekinetic strike designed to humiliate, to scorn.

The Isradia’s nose exploded from the impact, and he was further assaulted by Sashar slamming his lightsaber pommel into his right eye. His strike wasn’t fast enough; Esca managed to slip a hand between his face and the blow, stopping it from taking his eye.

He responded by slamming his forehead into the Mandalorian’s face. Staggering him back. His white blade whipped around in a proficient Vapaad horizontal cut that would have disembowelled the Exarch had he not caught it on his own blade, deflecting the stroke away - a true master of Soresu.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to settle into the familiar cold clarity that was required to fully utilise his signature Soresu move – the Mighty Guard.

Esca sent a flurry of attacks at his opponent, each to be caught by the coruscating orange blade until he realised he wouldn’t get through that way. With a snarl, he threw down his saber and raised his fists – an invitation for Sashar to do the same.

The Mandalorian was only too happy to oblige. He deactivated his own blade, clipped it to his blade, adopted an unconventional fighting stance and waded in. Both experts at their art, trained into moves and responses from years upon years of practice.

Before either of them could get the advantage, another joined the fray. However, this one was more subtle. With a force-augmented punch, Zandro downed Sashar and stood over his brother, glowering down at him.



22-10-2007 20:11:39

If the display from Syn's Master had told him anything, it was that much of Arcona was still a mystery to him. Now Zandro stood over Sashar, evidently angry that things had escalated the way they did, and Illian was free to act. He delicately removed his coat and looked around for an item he had seen in the bay earlier, a length of barbed chain lying near a pile of TIE parts. Spying it a small distance away, he very casually moved over to it, careful not to draw the attention of the combatants. He reached it, bending down carefully to clip the bottom of Torment's twisted hilt to one end, finding a suitable place on the wrist guard of his right gauntlet for the other and wrapping the excess chain around the forearm protector while Torment sat snugly in its leather harness just below his elbow. Returning to the drama he looked at Sashar and spoke a mental query to his Pro-consul.

*Give the word and I will tear him apart... or get torn apart... either way I’m sure it will be enjoyable,* his consciousness spoke calmly, as Sashar looked up from the ground.

*Don't be foolish. Besides, this is MY fight...* The Mandalorian thought back angrily, turning his attention back to Ethran.

As the tension began to increase again, and it looked as though Sashar would defy his brother and his own sense of logic and launch into the fray once again, the Eye of the Abyss gave a sickening lurch. All through the mighty ship klaxons were echoed by the groan of metal as something impacted with the Star Destroyer. Pulling out a small holo-device that was linked to the Retribution's main computer, Illian tried to find out what was going on. A humanoid female popped up on the screen, the Retribution's avatar, and began babbling warnings to the Hunter.

'Multiple contacts and they don't appear on my database! My scans are indicating heavy anti-star cruiser weaponry in heavy use! Wait...' the little figure flickered for a moment, and then reappeared. 'INCOMMING!' As she spoke the Eye shuddered again, the already dim lights flickering dramatically.

'Thankyou Ret. Could you please start the engines for me, and ill join you in a moment.' Illian looked back to his Master, who was now rising to his feat staring balefully at Ethran but holding his position. 'Sounds like a Vong patrol has stumbled across the Eye. Seems like a good time to prove my worth to Arcona, with your permission of course.' Illian bowed slightly. Sashar only nodded curtly before getting on the comm to the rest of Soulfire, but the mad Hunter was already too far away to hear.

Reaching his beloved ship amidst frantic TIE squads scrambling, he allowed himself a small moment of giddy excitement. Though his element was close quarters fighting, with Ret's assistance, the Retribution was a force to be reckoned with. It featured four independently firing laser batteries, each one linked to a separate fire-resolution partition in the computer's main weapons control matrix. This meant that Illian could manually fire up to two, while Ret would manage the rest. It made boarding actions lethally efficient, with the computer handling the landing and cover-fire of the team on board.

The lights in the cockpit came to life as the Retribution lifted off the ground and drifted towards the gaping shielded square in the centre of the bay that dropped into space. A squad of TIE Interceptors raced in front of him as he gunned the main thrusters and catapulted the Retribution into space, and into hell.


22-10-2007 23:50:33

Desdemonea cocked her head slightly as Mejas brushed past her without a glance. Her fingers twitched over the blade at her side, more out of habit than anything else. She continued to watch until he disappeared from her sight; perhaps the missive had been wrong, she had merely assumed it was him that wanted to see her. She should have second guessed that assumption considering where they were and what was happening at the time. She snorted at her stupidity and glanced around, wondering what she was supposed to do now, she was very limited in her knowledge of ships though this one she had memorized in her short time of being here. She swiveled her ears as she tried to decide what needed to be done though for now she decided to continue to wander around the ship aimlessly as she had been doing before. She unsheathed her blade once more and began doing so, it twirling in her paw as she continued along the corridors of the ship. She made her way down the hall, passing those she didn’t know and some she vaguely recalled from short meetings or verbal descriptions. She didn’t stop to greet anyone, nor did they stop to greet her though. She was a solitary creature, keeping mostly to herself unless forced to interact with people. She called few friends, and those she did seemed to reside in different clans. She gave a mental shrug at her line of thought, focusing more on her surroundings now then her lack of ties. She shifted her robes on her arm, the fabric becoming a bit heavy as it stayed in one position.

She decided to revisit her quarters, perhaps put her robes down there as she had no desire right now to wear them. She travelled down the corridors quickly, knowing exactly where she was going. The doors opened as she approached her room, quickly closing behind her after she entered. She glanced around, feeling slightly as was habit when entering a seemingly empty area. Finding nothing she resumed her motion forward, draping her robes over a chair that furnished the room. Her eyes fell on her light saber that lay across the bed, a paw reaching out to grab it and clip it to her belt. She didn’t follow normal protocol and keep it on her at all times since she found it cumbersome from time to time. She slipped the missive she had received before, reading it once over again, still wondering who it was from exactly. She placed it on her bed, figuring she would have time later if she didn’t run into this person beforehand. After deciding nothing else was needed in her room she slipped out, glancing both ways down the hall before proceeding with her aimless walk around the ship.

As she continued, she felt something or seemed more to hear it in her mind. Her head cocked again, much like it did when she was watching Mejas, as she “listened” for whatever it was again. This action was beneficial as it tended to mislead people about her, the mannerism seemed to tell them she was slightly less intelligent then she actually was. The ‘feeling’ came once more, a disruption in the force that she was connected to, a spike in power which she knew faintly. Her eyes narrowed, thinking it was impossible, led to believe this person was an adversary of this clan it wouldn’t make sense that he would be aboard this ship. She had memorized her way to the hangar having had plenty of time to wander. As she arrived she was met with a sight of a man with a bloody nose and the new Pro-Consul being flatted by someone she knew to be Zandro. However the two of them were only given the barest of attention as the majority of it was focused on the one with the bloody nose. The spike in the force that she recognized came from this creature; however his appearance was unfamiliar to her. She continued to watch the male through a narrowed gaze, trying to decipher who he was. Her eyebrow cocked, eyes slipping to their normal state, she figured she could assume that he didn’t normally walk around with pink bangs and that his hair was stark white; however the pink came from the blood that ran freely from his nose.

She remained silent and near the wall just inside of the doorway, she knew she had no place in this dispute. She watched the dispute wind down, the group making the decision that it wouldn’t be beneficial to continue it seemingly. As the dispute ended she made to move forward, however something rocked the ship as she began to. She held her balance though the subsequent remarks from the ships Avatar as well as the group in front of her made her pause. She flicked her eyes about the hangar bay, watching to see what would happen and if she could help in some way. She watched as another man she had not noticed before spoke to Sashar and moved off to what she assumed was his ship after receiving an affirmative response. She returned her attention to where the man she knew somehow stood, debating if she had any spare moment right now to approach him.


23-10-2007 07:53:09

Warning klaxons rang out through the Eye as Soulfire burst into the hangar, Kieran’s gaze shifted from a squadron of TIE Interceptor's departing the hangar to Zandro who was holding Sashar firmly by his shoulders.

“Vode!” Kieran stated as he approached the two, followed closely by his strike team. Juda sensed the anger welling within his master and decided best not to aggravate this and instead approached the Drexl; Soulfire’s Laat/I that was stationed next to a TIE Phantom.

The porcelain-skinned adolescent was welcomed by Sli'Rui, the Drexl’s pilot who sat casually on the transport‘s deck.

“What happened?” Juda asked, straightening out his kama.

“Vong forces have decided to brave our fleet” The Twi’lek female replied offhandedly.

Juda looked across to his master, even from this distance the building rage was evident in his eyes as he bickered with Zandro and Kieran before a thunderous rumbling shook the hangar. The Mandalorian medic glanced out into space before muttering under his breath, “Something needs to be done”

Juda unclipped his medical backpack and tossed it onto the Drexl’s deck along with his EPP-2 and Lancer Rifle, “Keep an eye on these for me” After losing most of his weight the Dark Jedi Knight approached the vacant Phantom.

“Judika!” Kieran’s familiar bark caused Juda to pivot on his feet as the Soulfire Sergeant briskly paced toward his second. “What are you doing?”

“I need to do my part” Juda replied, “Permission to take to space?” Despite being Arcona’s first battle team, Soulfire was a ground squad, and Kieran knew they were deemed immobile when it came to space combat.

“Denied, we need you onboard” Kieran retorted, taking his helmet from his head.

“Sarge, with all due respect, I’ve flown up against the Vong before, you know I can do this” Juda allowed himself a brief smile.

“We’ve lost too many wannabe heroes over this war as it is”

“Then another one won’t dent the boat” Juda beamed as he continued to approach the TIE Phantom.

“As your Sergeant I am ordering you to stand down!” Kieran snapped, his hand ruffling his hair as he followed Juda’s steps until the adolescent medic turned.

“And as your brother, I’m asking you, let me do this” Juda glanced over Kieran’s shoulder to his master and Zandro who had now calmed down somewhat.

“You don’t need to prove your worth” Kieran said as Juda climbed the ladder into the Phantom’s ‘eyeball’ cockpit,

“I’ll be back when we get our orders Sarge” With that Juda slid into the cockpit and flicked a variety of switches with this thumbs before connecting the oxygen supply to his helmet and testing his harnesses.
Juda smoothly pulled the throttle back causing the Phantom to gently lift from the durasteel floor and position itself, before the adolescent fired up the thrusters and pushed the throttle forward.

Kieran watched as the TIE Phantom soared out of the hangar and into the fray with a shriek before placing his helmet back over his head and storming towards Sashar and Zandro.


23-10-2007 11:39:04

Osik!” Kieran roared.

His right boot slammed out and into a knee high crate sending it skittering across the floor, narrowly missing one of the deck crew on its course. The Selenian looked up, the flash of anger scoured across his face as soon his he caught site of where the crate had come from; immediately his head lowered and he continued with his work fearful for what his Force wielding masters were capable of when they had been rubbed up the wrong way.

Sashar was his first port of call; he had to vent some frustration about his second in command, and the perfect reciprocal for his rant would be the man in question’s Master. His brother was standing in deep conversation with his half-brother Zandro and by the look on their faces this attack had not come unaware to the pair, again something which sent his blood boiling. Mandalorians weren’t a picture of calm tranquillity at the best of times but their was a new side to the Soulfire Sergeant which had begun to open up ever since the disaster following the Rite of Supremecy. Kieran was a proud man, and having his organisation beaten and humiliated with such monumental ease by an enemy his superiors had deemed to insignificant to investigate had opened up a wellspring of darker emotions.

“Brother,” he called out and watched his brother’s face sour; he only called him brother in basic when he was angry, Sashar knew that, “control your shabla apprentice.”

“He’s your too-i-see,” he countered.

“Exactly, but I don’t expect to have to train him to follow simple orders,” he exhaled deeply, allowing himself a moment to collect his thought and a stole a further moment by removing his helmet. “Ner’vode, I have a small but good squad who rely on each other to operate and having members disappear off has a detrimental affect on our ability to kick tail.”

Kier’dik-” Zandro began but was cut short by Kieran’s raised black gloved palm.

“As does the considerably lack of intelligence…” he let the word trail off and fixed them both with a knowing stare.

“What do you mean?” Sashar asked innocently.

Kieran narrowed his eyes.

Kier’dika, operational security,” Zandro came in with receiving a worried glance from Sashar.

The Sergeant’s mind raced, ‘operational security? There’s something bigger in the mix here Kieran … they know what they’re doing.

“Fine,” he replied gruffly after a minute, “I’ll be in our briefing room.”

He turned and walked towards the hangar doors, not bothering to step out of the way of the plethora of beings scurrying to and froe just simply fixing them with a stair that read ‘if they wanted to keep their heads firmly attached, now was not the time to bump into him’. He’d covered half the distance when his brother ushered him back with a subtle touch of the force. Kieran could feel the conveyance of apology as though the words had been whispered in his hear, and had they been they would almost surely have been drowned out by the second part of the invisible communiqué that read, ‘I’ve got a game for you.’

It was not hard to please Kieran, a beer, a women or two and any sort of narcotic substance usually tickled his fancy, but nothing quite picked him up the same way as the prospect of kicking the osik out of someone did.

“You were saying?” he asked as he got within talking distance of the pair, his entire demeanour changed from that of an angry teenager into the formidable Commander that he was.

“You know that we know something about what the enemy knows, but we know that they don’t know that we know what they know, but we now know that that might change, or rather should this present attack succeed, will change,” Sashar began in somewhat of a confusing way.

“So that’s why we’ve been dragged out here?” Kieran asked getting his mind around the previous statement, “and incidentally where is here?”

“We’re the home side of the halfway mark between Dajorra and Antei,” Zandro explained.

“Antei?” Kieran asked, fearing for a moment that the brotherhood was foolishly going after its crown in less time than it had taken them to lick their wounds after the initial exchange.

“No, not what you’re thinking,” Sashar replied quelling his fears, “one of our listening posts monitored an increasing amount of enemy traffic within its sector. At first we thought nothing of it; following Antei it was expected. However, our deepest post suddenly lost contact with us, without a word or anything. Then shortly afterwards, this post reported seeing a Vong fleet sweeping its sector, but not for an installation they were looking for a craft, one of ours from our lost station.”

Sashar paused and looked to Zandro for him to continue the explination.

“The craft, which we now know to be an escape pod has vital information concerning their numbers, strengths, movements and operations within our space and thus is of paramount importance to the brotherhood,” the Erinos paused, “moreover, it also contains information on a battle group which looks like it is gearing up for an assault somewhere towards Dajorran space. Wheather it is being aimed at Dajorra itself we cannot say but we’d rather not take the chance.”

“Understandably,” Kieran put in.

“We need the information, we need the survivor and we need to get everyone off this station before they become so many atoms, you following this Kieran?” Sashar asked.

“We’re going in to get them and the information out and then leave the Vong with nothing but scrap metal to look at?” the Soulfire Sergeant asked, a smile creeping its way into the corner of his mouth.

“As colourful as usual Kieran but yes,” Zandro nodded.

“How’s it going to work?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Two squads, one led by Zandro will secure the hangar and prevent the Vong from using it to facilitate troop landings by any means possible whilst Soulfire do the actual extraction and demolition,” Sashar paused letting the beginnings of a plan settle into his brother’s mind, “we’re looking at heavy contact, they want to keep us in the dark-”

“Bit ironic us being Dark Jedis and all?” Kieran chuckled.

“as much as possible,” Sashar continued ignoring the bad joke, “which means they’ll be gunning for us, and considering the what we know about how their military operates, the commander will be trying very hard to keep his head attatched and thus will be fighting for every inch as though it is a mile.”

“Lots of wets to bag then,” Kieran nodded sagely.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Zandro smiled.

“The Mandalorian way, what did our training master used to say about a target rich environment Sash’ika?” Kieran asked with a grin.

“Targeting’s not a bitch when the environment’s rich,” they chimed in together.

“Right, now that you two are back on the same page,” Zandro replied glad to see the previous aminosity had been dried up with the prospect of combat, “I’ll better be off rounding up my crew.”

“Get the lead out then!” Kieran grinned giving him a playful shove.

“Looks like it’s time for us to give the Lancers a quick test drive then?” Sashar grinned.

“Oh baby,” replied Kieran shivering with excitement.


24-10-2007 03:47:50

Acheron emerged from his office, his face still grim. He forced his way into the cockpit, "You have about ten seconds to get all the juice out of this junk head before I start painting the walls with the blood of your crew..."

He left the statement hanging and watched as the pilot slammed the throttle all the way forward and the craft made a small lurch as it sped into the black. He moved back to his office and waited for what seemed like weeks. He sat in his office in quiet meditation, his wife seated in his chair.

Without opening his eyes, "Captain Dinyawii, are the foot troops battle ready? I sense fighting in our near future. Make sure they know we may come under heavy attack. I want all of the turrets manned by experienced personnel."

Nodding slightly, she bowed and took her leave heading immediately towards the small ragtag support troops they could bring. He growled slightly

Silently, he cursed himself for not pushing them all harder. The inquisitors themselves were only questioners. Not a single one had completed the entire training phase and he was already going to be subjecting them to combat and intelligence gathering. He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He turned his blindfolded face towards the door, "Enter, Knight d'Tana."

The Knight came into the room and saluted the Lord High Inquisitor. As the Archpriest rose to his feet, he addressed the Knight. "At ease, Knight. Speak your mind then leave."

The knight nodded quickly, "Archriest, what are the plans of attack when we reach the Eye? Are we to be able to get any rest or are we to report straight for duty?"

Acheron furrowed his brow at the Knight, "Get out now. Get out before I throw you out. If you want rest, do it on the way there. We do not sleep when in pursuit of the truth. Pass that on to the rest of the trainees out there."


The craft landed in the hangar with not so much as any sound. Acheron exited first to find the hangar mostly empty; turning slightly, he addressed the pilot of the craft, "When my men are finished unloading our equipment, report back to the estates hangar and await an order to return."

Spinning around again, he moved deftly through the hangar of the Eye and made his way for his Master's throne room. He inclined his head slightly at Ethran, knowing they had served in a former clan together. Moving down the halls he ran into another man he recognized from the battlefield, "Quejo Xyler! You philandering scum!"

The man spun, hand reaching for the hilt of his saber, "Acheron...don't sneak up on people like that. You're going to get yourself killed. Who are the greens behind you?"

Acheron snorted, "Trainees for the Dark Inquisitors, Quejo. My first batch of protege and as my Master commanded...I have brought them here." he said as he looked over his shoulder, "They took longer to get ready than I had I'm behind schedule. Not to mention the idiot of a pilot we had wouldn't fly nearly fast enough for my taste. After removing a few of his captain's fingers, he sped right up."

He nodded to Quejo, "I'll see you around, Quejo. Maybe we can play a few games of Sabacc sometime."

He continued down the corridor, finally approaching the door to his Master's throne room. Stopping at the door, he looked to the side. He carefully examined the guards at the doors, "My master is expecting me. Open this door quickly....or I'll let him know you slowed my arrival."

The guard jerked the door open quickly and a slight grin played on Acheron's face as he stepped through the door. As he approached his Master, however, the smile quickly faded.

"We have arrived, my Master. we await your commands eagerly and we will succeed all tasks without fail," the Archpriest spoke, his accented voice seeming to carry in the throne room.


24-10-2007 08:42:13

As Juda entered Antei's space he was met with a wash of brilliant light as a damaged TIE Interceptor spiralled into Arcona’s Flagship, erupting into a mass of fragments and debris. The Mandalorian medic inhaled deeply as he swerved left to right, adjusting himself to the sensitive controls of his TIE Phantom before taking a firm grasp of his steering helm and descending into a sharp nose-dive.

A squadron of Interceptors fought valiantly in a maze of laser-fire and what looked to be boulders of molten lava in the exchange of fire up ahead. Juda had fought against these Yuuzhan Vong organic starfighters during the last Right of Supremacy, odd-looking craft with dark canopies and triangular-shaped bodies that bore a small appendage at it’s bow that released flaming magma rocks.

With a twisted sneer Juda applied full power to his thrusters and tickled his throttle as he soared toward the skirmish, with his thumbs circling the firing studs that were located on his helm, the Mandalorian swiftly executed a barrel-roll.

The TIE Phantom corkscrewed it’s way toward the nearing clash of Arconans and Vong and released a barrage of green lasers as the Soulfire medic pierced through the centre of the conflict. Juda howled with nervous excitement as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream while swiftly pulling back on his steering helm, resulting in the Phantom to sharply perform a half loop before the Dark Knight straightened out and let loose a second flurry.

‘Welcome to the fray!’ A harsh static voice buzzed through his comms. unit,

“Dark Jedi Juda Erinos” Juda replied, pulling his starfighter up to avoid a searing lump of magma.

‘Don’t think we’ve had the formal pleasure,’ The pilot retorted, ‘Jedi Hunter Illian Syn’

A grin crept across Juda’s face as he located Illian’s craft on his HUD before weaving throughout various debris and solitary panels from destroyed TIE’s.

“Several hostiles incoming on your right flank” Juda warned, pressing down hard on his firing studs.

‘On it!’


25-10-2007 00:21:27

The battle was everything Illian had hoped for, with the Vong's biological Yorik-et Starfighters sweeping through clouds of outgunned TIE's like they were nothing. Approaching from the back of the galactic plane was a Matalok cruiser, it's weapons firing steadily into the broadside of the Eye of the Abyss. Molten projectiles and green laser filled the darkness as Illian sought out his new ally in the chaos.

'Ret, take command,' Illian barked, letting the AI take over operation of the guns, allowing him to spare half a second to locate the Vong aggressors Juda warned him of. Before he could even adjust the controls to bring the ship around, it was already moving. This was made possible by the tiny needle inserted from the back of the pilot's chair into the base of his cerebral cortex, letting him interact directly with the main computer. A VR layer was added to his vision, forming a kind of HUD that was beamed directly into his brain and also allowed the ship to adapt to and anticipate his orders. Using the force while in this state directly effected the Retribution's performance, making it seem nearly alive as it twisted and rolled through the battle with a grace and speed that defied its size.

Through the haze of data streaming into his mind, lighting up targets and tracking damage estimates and vectored co-ordinates, he caught sight of his ally spewing green laser fire into a cluster of coral-skippers. Smiling he activated the communications switch, just as Ret took out the last of the Retribution's bogies.

'Judging by the way you fly Juda, i would say we are both out of our element in this fight. Perhaps we would be better off hitting one of those warships, perhaps get our hands dirty inside...' He trailed off as he took manual command of the port-side battery and poured neon death into another wing of Yorik-et foolish enough to try and blind-side him. Torment was buzzing in his head impatiently, irritated that he was being left out of the current carnage.

'*Are you insane? We cant take on an entire Vong crew ourselves, we'll be out-manned and out-gunned. Have you ever even faced these guys before?*'

'Blood is still blood no matter the shell.' Was the only reply Illian gave before the Retribution surged forward with blinding speed towards the Matalok's landing bay. By allowing Ret to temporaily merge her sensors with his nerves, he was *aware* of the small TIE Phantom rolling in behind his ship. Taking control of the aft and bow-side lasers, he sent a salvo of fire spiralling around his Dark Jedi clansman, hitting two coral-runners and sending them spinning into a passing wing of Interceptors. Hitting the code to deactivate the merge, he spoke softly to Torment.

'Soon we will taste alien flesh and blood and *life*,' he breathed, the possessed saber hissing in approval. Ret flashed up next to him, once more restricted to the holo-pad on his shoulder.

'Approach vectors set. Threat level red, all damage estimates factored and awaiting execution...' The little fairy-like avatar's image flickered as she communicated with the main computer. After a few moments she smiled triumphantly. 'Retribution predicts a bumpy ride!' Illian only smiled as his radar indicated three friendly contacts forming up between him and Juda's TIE. It seemed the Retribution had taken the liberty of calling for boarding crews, and the three Theta-class troop shuttles had been sent from the Eye, finding a clear path through the carnage reaped by the two Dark Jedi pilots.

'Ret, once we clear the cruiser's turrets divert all power to the front deflector shields. Increase speed and when we hit the hanger, give these creatures a symphony of death like never before!' The ship lurched forward as the increased speed sent them flying though the barrage of molten flak from the Matalok until suddenly everything went quiet as the Retribution past through the minimum range of the Vong guns. Illian's eyes flashed as the docking bay came closer and closer until he could make out the movement of Vong personell scattering to avoid the black comet that was about to tear apart their hanger. With an bone-jarring lurch, his ship hit the ground, the computer immediately diverting all power to the independently tracking laser batteries.

From the shuttles, the sight must have been extrordinary as Syn's sleek black starship spun through the alien craft, its guns firing deadly salvos into everything around it, leaving a path of ruin and destruction.

As the boarding parties prepared themselves for the suicidal mission, Illian's insane laughter echoed across the radio.


25-10-2007 07:27:34

{OCC: for the record guys, especially 'CC' cos you had a very valid point, its not me flying the Retribution so well, its Ret using my force-augmentation to utilise the AI. not being a very good pilot, i designed it this way to ensure i could do funky [Expletive Deleted] in space as well as the ground. If the AI is disabled then its open season on syn, just so you dont think its too OP'd :) }


25-10-2007 08:49:49

A sudden feeling of dread overcame Juda as he neared the Vong Matalok, remembering that he left his Lancer rifle and EPP-2 onboard the Drexl. The Mandalorian gazed down to his hip, an SSK Pistol and his Lightsaber were the only weapons he carried and with a sigh mumbled under his breath as the TIE Phantom broke through the Vong’s hangar membrane.

Juda carelessly docked his starfighter as soon as he entered the enemy hangar, to be greeted by the sight of the Retribution ploughing into Yuuzhan Vong warriors and workers with it’s cannons. Despite Juda’s uncertainty of the young Jedi Hunter’s actions, he recognized a part of Sashar in his recklessness and found comfort in it.

With one hand on his hilt Juda called upon the Force and burst out of his cockpit, performing an supple jump before landing with a thud and igniting his lightsaber with a hiss. The Mandalorian was dowsed in his weapons glow as he charged for the nearest Vong who returned a sneer while weaving an Amphistaff in hand.

Juda held his blade in a lax grip as he brought it above his head and attacked in a fluent arc of yellow, the electric crackle of the parry flashed throughout the hangar as the Vong kicked out with a grunt, catching Juda hard in the gut.

The Mandalorian staggered but swiftly raised his lightsaber as the unsightly Vong warrior interlaced his weapon from hand to hand before delivering a heavy blow that Juda deflected and countered with a rapid stab that glanced the Vong’s armour.

Illian stepped out of his craft bearing a AXM-50, his aura oozed of overconfidence and pride as he pulled back on the trigger, sending a outbreak of blaster bolts along with maniacal laughter to haunt the buzzing hangar.

The Jedi Hunter was in no rush to end what he started and casually sidestepped while cocking his weapon and switching to the attached grenade launcher before repeatedly squeezing the trigger, several grenades burst from the weapon and soared across the hanger.

“Illian!” Juda yelled out, now holding his own against two Vong warriors, “A little help?”

Illian grinned as he set off into a brisk jog, all the while lacing everything that moved with his rifle until the grenades exploded with a thunderous roar, impaling the few Vong that surrounded them with shrapnel.

As Illian neared the Soulfire medic, the young Hunter took the time to bring the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and aim, three swift shots collided with the back of one of Juda’s attackers thighs. The Vong took a momentary dip, Juda saw his opening and without hesitation coiled his lightsaber, decapitating the warrior’s unprotected head.

The large Vong slumped lifelessly to the hangar floor, Illian kept up his onslaught and released a barrage of bolts that slammed into the second Vong’s chest armour that simply absorbed the bolts.
Juda smoothly attacked in a strike that the Vong effortlessly parried and engaged in a lock, the lightsaber crackled as it fought against the warrior’s Amphistaff.

“Go for the head!” Juda yelled out, feeling the sweat trace down the nape of his neck to his back, Illian let off three bolts, one impaled the Vong’s mutilated forehead causing his skull to explode into chunks of brain matter and flesh.

Illian neared Juda’s side as the Mandalorian kicked the lifeless Vong onto it’s back before giving a grin under his helmet. That was soon wiped away as he glanced across the hangar to see a few dozen warriors sneering as they stormed toward the two Jedi.

“What now?” Juda asked, posturing himself into a Makashi opening stance.

Illian calmly shrugged while resting his rifle on his shoulder, “You’re the Knight.”


26-10-2007 00:26:48

The Vong Warriors advanced, snarling, towards the two Arconans, their Amphistaves held aggressively forward. Judas had a grim expression on his face, but gripped his light sabre in the duelist stance and held his ground. Illian looked down at his rifle, his lip curling in disdain, and then threw it to the floor. He hated ranged weaponry, though from time to time he accepted its necessity, preferring the chaotic euphoria of close quarters combat.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ The knight hissed. ‘These guys are tough Syn. We are going to need that fire-power.’ He spared a glance at his comrade, only to see the Hunter adjusting the straps on his black gauntlets. ‘Got something in mind Hunter?’

‘Perhaps. Look around you my friend. This ship is close to collapse.’ He gestured dismissively around the organic cavern that served as the launch point for the Vong air support, and Judas began to notice it as well. Aside from the fresh gouges the Retribution had torn through the fleshy walls, there was a lot of battle damage that looked older. At once the Knight made the connection that could mean they both hadn’t just committed suicide.

‘This must have been one of the ships caught in the after-blast of Sarin’s capital ship!’ His companion nodded absently.

‘Undermanned as well by the looks of it. A pity really. I was looking forward to meeting some more of these vile aliens…’ Illian trailed off as his attention was brought back to the Vong warriors, now fanning out around them. ‘Still, these specimens will do for an unofficial introduction.’ Stepping forward he smiled at the creatures, his arms spread wide. Judas watched in horror as the nearest of them stepped forward to strike the Hunter, its staff arcing down towards Illian’s head. With deadly speed, the mad Jedi stepped through the attack to embrace the startled warrior. All the Vong stopped for a moment, surprised by the completely unexpected move, and Judas saw his chance. His blade arced out, liberating two alien heads from their shoulders, just as Illian’s deadly gauntlets found the Vong’s spine just above its armour, tearing it out along with the creatures head.

As a fountain of blood erupted from the fallen Vong, its six remaining comrades cried out in fury and charged at the impertinent Arconans. Torment whipped out of its sheath on the end of the barbed length of chain Illian had found on the Eye, encircling another warrior’s head as the Hunter somersaulted into the fray, sending yet another spray of blood thickly into the combatants. Meanwhile Judas fought off his attackers with all the ancient grace of a Makashi duellist, keeping the deadly staves at bay until one Vong got too close and lost half its face to a precise cross slash. The rest kept their distance, keeping up consistently deadly attacks, until Juda felt the distant pangs of fatigue creeping up on him slowly. They could not keep up this game much longer, he realised as he spared a quick glance at his clansman.

Illian was doing a little worse, but had luckily disarmed both his opponents. Apparently the Vong were not used to opponents who could tear the heads off their serpentine Amphistaves as soon as they tried to could around his arms. Even without their weapons, however, the mighty alien warriors’ superior strength was showing. Illian’s gauntlets were still flailing, but his ‘whip’ was tangled uselessly around one aggressor’s armoured midriff, preventing the agile Hunter from escaping while the two creatures beat him with mighty fists.

It seemed as if the two Jedi were doomed, but just as the Vong came in for the kill green laser fire erupted all around them. The shots, while obviously not well aimed, were so numerous that in seconds all had found marks in alien skulls and the brutish warriors fell to the floor. Juda ran over to get Illian to his feet, the Hunters face a bloody mess, and looked to see what had happened. Across the deck, Arconan Regular Army Troopers were arrayed in firing lines, a considerable number of Vong warriors already scattered around them. The shuttle crews had survived the hellish landing, though they looked to have lost half their number already.

Turning to Illian, Juda steadied him with a solid arm, reaching for his medical kit before remembering that he had left it with the rest of Soulfire.

‘Are you okay? You look pretty messed up…’ He examined the bleeding Journeyman. To his surprise, underneath all the blood (chillingly, only half of it being his) he was grinning wildly.

‘More… I want more… Come, with the ship in this condition, we should be able to take the bridge. With your permission I have a plan for this living ship…’ With that he tore Torment free of the alien’s body and beckoned for the troops to fall in behind. Laughing maniacally he set off towards the end of the biological hanger bay, Juda following behind. He found himself smiling as well, the mad Hunters insanity becoming ever so slightly infectious.

If that deranged mind had come up with a plan for the Vong, Juda could almost guarantee it was going to be spectacular. And besides, Juda had some plans of his own for the bridge, one that could aid his comrades in Soulfire more than even Mejas could forsee.

Wes Biriuk

26-10-2007 04:34:34

Xar'Kahn stood in the background as Juda disappeared into space. Lifting his head to look around Xar saw men appear out of no where, as if apparitions, some pilots, some soldiers, all ready to fight. Xar had always wondered how the Eye of the Abyss could appear to create people out of nowhere. When not under attack the only being Xar saw where those of Clan Arcona and the odd technician but as soon as a bolt was toward the vessel all of a sudden he could hardly move without stepping into someone.

Xar drew his attention back to the now, observing his fellow Soulfirians. Xar knew what would happen next, but waited for the signal. Seeing his three superiors, Sashar, Zandro and Keiran, head toward the assembly of Galerian hunters he unconsciously stood to attention. Xandro was the first to speak.

"Galeres, to our briefing room, five minutes ago." With that said, the Dark Jedi disappeared.


The Galeres Briefing room was much life most others around the ship. Plain walls, holoprojector front and centre, and a number of seats. Nothing to flashy.

"Galeres, we are under attack by a fleet of Vong. It would seem they have some information we need. Soulfire, Kieran has your instructions. Blue Mist, Strategos has yours. Go now." Zandro waited for the few members to leave. "The rest of you. Follow me, grab some weapons, I'll meet you back in the hangar. You get a special task."

As soon as it had been filled, the room was empty.


The Soulfire breifing room was different to any other room on the ship, except maybe the Proconsul and Consul private rooms. Upon entering the room you are confronted with the real briefing area, much the same as the others. But when you moved around you saw some oddities. For instance. On the back wall hung a large holoscreen projector with some comfortable seating arranged in front. On the side was a self-service bar, in essence it was more a squad room than a briefing room. Somewhere for the Soulfire team to hang out after a mission or just sit and swap war stories. Also made for a good party room.

Kieran stood at the front, his men seated intentively. It was now that he could finally reveal the plan.


26-10-2007 13:00:02

“… we’re talking about the systematic annihilation of the Dajorra system here people, what I’m telling you is classified further above my head than I can see,” Kieran paused, glancing briefly down at the notes he had scrawled into his datapad moments before the briefing began. “I’m telling you this, or rather Sashar is allowing me to tell you this as I am not one to believe in not knowing what you are fighting for.”

“So they mean to make our system into the largest Vong shipyards by … cracking our planets in two?” Rho piped up from the back.

“Current Intel suggests that that is their preferred method of ship construction, yes” he replied gravely.

“In two?” Xar echoed doing the quick mental arithmetic that required him to calculate the possible casualty figures.

“Something wrong with your hearing?” Kieran asked cocking a brow, “I must have missed that part on your medical,” the Mandalorian grinned at the now flustered Knight.

“Kier’dika, time,” Sashar called out from his position at the back of the room; turning every head in the room in an instant having not noticed him before.

“As our all singing all dancing Proconsul has informed us we’re rather short on time here people, one as this invasion is likely to kick off within a fortnight and two because the listening post in question has already got a significant Vong presence on board.”

Kieran looked down to his datapad and after a quick dance of his fingers the holoprojector hummed to life displaying a three dimensional model of the installation.

“We’re attacking in two teams, Team Two gains entry to the hangar and secures for VIP extraction. They’ll be facing large numbers attacking from both sides as no doubt the enemy presence will want to retake the hangar once it has been lost, Juda and Illian will be flying close escort and gunnery support for the team. Our job is a lot less fun; we’re to extract a group of survivors from the original listening post and the invasion of Antei for debriefing and the staff of this listening post, he has all the information, and thankfully it’s a familiar face,” he stopped momentarily to let the agile minds of his squad filter the information through. “The crucial survivor is none other than Etah d’Tana, we all know him … sadly,” he paused grinning to let the chuckles die down, “regardless of our feelings his life is .. at the moment more valuable than any of ours, and more importantly along that line there are members of other clans amongst the group of VIPs.”

“So the other VIPs are expendable?” the stoic Malidir asked.

“Expendable … sort of, let’s just say it’s nothing to lose an arm over,” Kieran grinned back, “especially the Palatinae lot.”

“Excellent,” Rho muttered and received a knowing look from the Sergeant.

“Insertion?” Sashar asked having left the dynamics of the operation in the Sergeant’s hands.

“I’ve opted not to use the hangar as our point of entry as … frankly the other squad will be attracting an awful lot of attention so for the opening phases we want to keep clear of them. Our point of entry is here,” the Mandalorian indicated with a gloved hand. “A refuse compartment on the opposite side of the station, yes it’ll be smelly and dirty but it’s also less of a walk to the command centre than the hangar and most likely containing the least Vong presence aboard.”

“Aren’t we wanting to get a little closer to the enemy after Antei?” Xar piped in again.

“Understand this,” Kieran began taking a sterner tone, “when I say least I’m not implying this’ll be a walk in the park by any rate, there will be a lot of hard contact and it’s going to get messy,” he finished staring the man in the eye.

“Forget the cutting torch as well Xar, we’ve no time for niceties I just want you to blow the hatch open with the PLEX. Lastly, insertion by Drexl like normal only this time, prepare for EV manoeuvring .. so let me reiterate, we have no time for niceties.”

The briefing room fell into a nervous calm with each of the squad memorizing every twist and turn of the station. Kieran taught them not to rely solely on their armour’s internal mapping system when in the thick of it as no technology would ever replace the brain when it came to making snap decisions in the thick of combat.

“Grab your gear and get to the boat, take of in one five minutes, one five people,” Kieran finished but before the penultimate word had left his mouth his squad were making for door, leaving Sashar to walk calmly to the front of the room.

“Odds for us Kieran?” he asked as he reached the front and received nothing but a blank stare in reply.


The team had assembled around the Drexl well within the time having rehearsed the scramble countless times before; it was like all their manoeuvres now second nature.

Leaves more time for thinking about the kill,’ Kieran reminded himself on the reasons behind his teachings.

He was the last one to step onto the transport, not by any foolhardy act of symbolism merely because he was attempting at best to catch a glimpse of the second team’s Lambda-class Shuttle taking off. Deciding not to waste any more time on vain acts of mental reassurance and stepped inside the transport, he knew they would make it somehow.

He looked around the large confines of the transport at his respective squad members. Rho, the only non-human member of his team of crack Jedi was sat with his slender legs folded neatly beneath him. His fingers worked to check the scope calibrations on his Verpine Sniper Rifle; consumed with in his own physical world and similarly with the force, the white skinned Jedi was oblivious to his surroundings. Malidir was staring blankly into space, his fingers knotted into his beard and somehow a void in the force. Xar was checking over his kit nervously reminding Kieran as to what he’d been like on his first outing, anxious, scared and paranoid about his kit not functioning correctly. Had they not been Force users the Mandalorian might have offered him a few words but Kieran knew that once their meld was up all the worries would be driven away by their unified focus of achieving their goals; the Force truly was a soldier’s best friend. Kieran turned to Sashar he found his brother giving him the once over as if to say ‘admiring your flock?’ and received a grin in reply, he kept little secrets from his Master.

“It’s about that time,” Sashar called out and as if on cue the deck beneath them began to thrum.

“Meld up,” Kieran called out announcing the green light.


27-10-2007 10:56:08

Illian paced down a bio-organic corridor only to stop and turn when he sensed his Dark Jedi Knight counterpart had come to a halt. Juda stood still, his hand pressing on the side of his helmet as if he was listening intently to a silent voice, his free hand raised to prevent Illian from breaking the stillness.

“We’re leaving” Juda finally spoke as he pivoted on his heels,

“What?!” Illian protested, “Why?”

“Soulfire’s been given her orders, we’re on the move, that includes you” Juda said glancing over his shoulder,

“But we’ve came so far!” Illian yelled out, feeling the anger well up within him.

“And to be honest, it’s miraculous we’ve made it this far.”

“So what, your Sergeant pulls in the reigns and you go running back like some trained Nek?” Illian objected as he dragged his feet behind Juda. “Look where we are!”

“This armour isn’t just for my protection, it is my skin, my identity, while wearing it I have a name to upkeep” Juda said now stopping to face his Clansman, “I’ve already disrespected my brother’s wishes once today.”

Illian’s face twisted with aggravation, his fingers twitching for the kill.

“If you want to impress our Master, the best way to do that is by staying alive, now come on, there’s plenty more kills where we’re going” Juda stated as he stepped into a brisk jog. Illian took a glace behind him once more before taking after the Mandalorian Trooper.


By the time Illian and Juda made it back to the hangar, the walls were crawling with Yuuzhan Vong warriors and Arconan troops; expendable non-force users who would fight valiantly to the end onboard the Matalok.

“I’ll brief you when were back out there!” Juda shouted over the racket of blaster-fire as he ignited his lightsaber once more, using it as more of a last resort than anything. Illian nodded hesitantly and the pair set off into a run toward their chosen crafts.

Illian was onboard the Retribution before Juda managed to get to his TIE Phantom, the Jedi Hunter let off a barrage of laser fire, covering the Knight as best he could until Juda successfully made it to his starfighter.

Juda swiftly buckled his harnesses and flicked a variety of switches, his thrusters fired to life, charring the organic wall behind him a shade of jet.

’Juda, ETA?’ Sli’Rui’s voice buzzed over his commlink,

“Two minutes” Juda replied back, watching the Retribution soar past and into the darkness of space.

‘Make it quicker, the Drexl’s gonna be under suppressive fire in about forty-five seconds’ The Twi’lek held an air of confidence as always.

The TIE Phantom burst to life, hovering meters from the ground before turning 180° and shooting after Illian. A weight was lifted from Juda’s shoulders as he left the Matalok, only to find the fire fight outside had doubled with craft, Arconan forces buzzing around Vong fighters in an exchange of lasers and untreated weaponry.

Out of the frying pan.


28-10-2007 00:04:47

Once the battle meld was engaged every bit of Rho's self focus was absolutely gone. His own thoughts melted away as Soufire once again became one entity. He secured all his gear and guns in the right places on his armour and was more than ready to engage the Yuuzhan Vong he called scum.

He knew the odds weren't good for this mission. The opposition was extremely powerful, but there never really was a mission that this Soulfire team wouldn't take on and this one was no different. The only advantage these creatures had over them was the fact that the Force is void in them. Maybe this was a factor in them winning their last war with the Brotherhood. 'Not this time'. Rho thought to himself. 'Not if Soulfire has anything to do with it'.

With that thought, Rho remembered the Meld and felt the affirmation coming from the rest of the team around him who were also waiting to board the Drexl. As the doors to the all-too-familiar ship opened he felt a sudden spike in the Force's Dark Energies all around and through him.

The other Soufirians looked at Rho in a concerned way as they all knew that Etah, who's survival was vital, was in more trouble than they thought. Rho didn't know exactly what was happening, but he knew this wasn't good. Regardless of some of the other's feelings about Etah, he was Rho's family and family meant loyalty and he was going to do everything in his power to get him out of whatever situation he found himself.

“Did you feel that, or was that just me?” Rho asked the others in the room.

“Yeah, I felt that surge through the Meld.” Malidir replied, he being a former d'Tana.

Those were the only words spoken because they all knew exactly what they had to accomplish that day and they also knew exactly how to execute their objectives. 'Get in, get off, get out'; as he often heard around the Brotherhood lounges. He wasn't always sure whether this pertained to battle, but in this case, that's exactly what it meant. He was determined to make this as painless as possible; especially for the enemy, 'One Shot, One Kill; no one will feel anything'. He murmured to himself fueling his anger and hatred for the Vong.

Rho's focus was broken with the Sergeant's, "Let's go kill us some vong!"


28-10-2007 10:30:48

The bridge was a mess of klaxons, hurried status reports and barked orders. The crew was green, and it was showing. Standing like an island of calm amongst it all was Xander Drax. He positioned himself near the front of the cat-walk, calmly giving out orders to the harried bridge crew as he assessed the situation unfolding before him. Already the fighter screen was deployed – TIE Avengers shot past the bridge’s viewscreen, waggling their wings in parade-formation shows of respect to the commander.

This isn’t the time for showboating. The Wing Commander will be disciplined. He grimly thought to himself as he felt an unnatural chill run involuntarily down his spine. Mejas had arrived.

“What is the situation, captain?” He asked as he swept onto the bridge, his long cloak drifting after him, making it look almost as if he were floating a few inches from the ground. His hood was still up.

“Our fighters are deployed to intercept the Coralskippers and I have a Squadron of Interceptors flying cover for the two strike teams. We were pulled out of Hyperspace a little sooner than I’d like, so the shuttles will be flying for longer, however their capital ships aren’t engaging – they’re holding back. I don’t know what for.” Xander replied promptly, turning away from the viewports to face the Shadow Lord.

“Continue moving towards the Installation and keep me updated on the status of their capital ships.”

“Yessir.” Drax replied as he turned back to managing the battle.


Bringing the meld into fruition was a familiar routine for the Mandalorian – it was a comforter for Soulfire at times, something reassuring, letting them know that their brothers were here and by their side ready to fight with them, die for them. They’d established the meld so many times now that the side effects had started to show. Often the members of Soulfire found each other completing one another’s sentences, sharing thoughts, intuitively knowing exactly how their team-mate was feeling and what they were thinking without even having to draw on the force.

Outside, it was a mess. The Interceptor Squadron escorting the Drexl and the Lambda shuttle following behind with the other team was getting hammered. Coralskippers swarmed through space, their plasma cannons spitting out molten death but still the Larty carried on, her composite beam cannons letting free their own brand of deadly energy at any Vong fighters that got too close. Inside, Soulfire Strike team were tousled about, but remained for the most part quiet, mentally preparing themselves for the combat to come. Sashar extended the meld to include Juda and Zandro and felt a wash of gratification from both.

“Vac-seal your suits boys, we’ll be going EV in a moment. Xar, get ready.” Kieran ordered, and the squad obliged him by checking the vacuum seals on their armour. A moment later the Drexl’s starboard door opened as it pulled to a stop. The Atmosphere shot from the small cabin, but the troopers remained implacable, unmoved by the gust. Xar knelt in position, bringing his PLX-2M against his shoulder as he took aim and loosed a chip at the side of the installation. It impacted, however the lack of oxygen outside meant that the damage was reduced.

“Fire again!” Kieran ordered.

Xar reloaded and fired in under ten seconds, and again the missile didn’t break through. The Installation was rated against vacuum and turbolaser blasts, a Plex just wouldn’t cut it.

Fustration boiled through the meld, but Kieran forstalled it. Most of the explosives he and Sashar had with them were rated for vacuum, however they worked best in atmosphere. That, coupled with their misfortune of being pitted against a reinforced part of the superstructure was going to eat at morale, and also make them a sitting Cannock for any opportunistic Vong to take pot shots.

“Sashar. Thermal Det at that hull.”

“Check.” His mentor and brother responded as he pulled a spherical silver object from his det-pack and armed it. With a surge of the force to keep its momentum, the Mandalorian threw the small but powerful grenade at the already mauled hull and looked away.

A bright white flash followed, as the baradium charges went off and instantly took apart everything within twenty meters of the blast radius down to their constituent atoms. It faded a moment later, and what had once been a reinforced hull and decking was now a large hole in the station rapidly loosing air. There was no debris around the edge – the beauty of a Thermal Detonator was that it completely obliterated everything in its blast radius, whilst not touching anything outside. It was clean, efficient, and deadly.

The rush of air was already ebbing away from the damaged sections as blast doors crashed down deeper in the station to staunch the haemorrhaging atmosphere, and without further ado Kieran gestured three times towards the breach.

“Get your di’kutla asses in gear! Take take take!”


01-11-2007 01:05:07

Illian was still cursing wildly as he flew towards the rendezvous point he had been given by Juda. He would have to find his master after this was over and tell him what he had in mind, so that in future he could be left to his own devices, not called back to heel like a dog. The mad Hunter's mood only blackened as he reached the point several clicks back from the installation.

He was supposed to be covering the transports containing team two by supplying as much precision-fire as he and Ret could manage. Well, as much as Ret could manage, given his rather poor ability with ranged weaponry. Bringing the Retribution to a stop he sat back in the pilot-chair and allowed Ret to insert the neural-interface needle into his cerebral cortex. Suddenly the interior of the ship was stripped away to reveal open space covered in target-data and computer analysis as he was given a small amount of the Retribution's "vision". He could feel Ret all around him as she managed the various aspects of the ship's pre-combat checks. He noticed one turret was still active, holding off any Coral-skippers that had pursued the deadly black craft.

Opening a communications channel, he contacted his Galeres Quaestor, Zandro.

'This is Syn. I'm in position and awaiting orders.' He didn’t bother listening for a response, instead letting Ret monitor communications while he un-plugged and prepared for the ground portion of the mission. Torment whispered darkness into his mind as he checked the possessed weapon's harness on the underside of his armoured forearm, but he ignored him. His eyes and his attention were fixed on a silver case sitting against a bulk-head just behind his chair.

The case contained a modified suit of Storm-Trooper armour and a Nightsinger Rifle with four additional clips. The rifle was his, left over from his days as a sniper, before his mind became damaged. Silence was its name and although he no longer had the skill to use it well, he was still fond of it.

The armour, also his, was much newer than the rifle. He had only received it upon his arrival on the eye, just after the briefing that decided his place within clan Arcona. A tall Spectran had given it to him solemnly saying something about "unity in the mist" or some such thing. It was identical to the armour worn by the Emperor's elite shock-infantry except for the helmet, which sported a clone-wars era design, and the colour scheme. Where once polished white shone out, now grey and mist-blue replaced it.

Illian had not worn a uniform in a very long time, preferring the comfort of his satin finery, but there was something about this armour that called to him. Perhaps it was the wraith-like colours that would allow him to glide through smoke and fog like a ghost, killing without sound or warning...

Ret broke him from his daydreaming as she relayed a communication from Zandro.

'He says that they are within visual range of the Retribution and are now proceeding to the Hanger for stage one of their mission. He wants us to fly strafing runs through the hanger bay until all members of the team are securely deployed. Then he says to meet them at rendezvous point beta. Guess that means I'll have control of the ship!' The little fairy-avatar did a flip and began to fly in circles around Illian's shoulder, constrained by the limits of the holo-projector. The Hunter smiled darkly as he imagined the chaos she would bring to the Vong if left to her own devices.

'Yes indeed you will little Ret, but for now let's concentrate on our first task. Do as Zandro says while I get ready for deployment. And Ret,' he said turning his head so he could see her clearly, 'there is to be NO friendly fire. Should any of our own get hurt because you couldn’t control your guns...' he didn’t finish the sentence, accepting that the avatar knew what fate awaited her should she disobey him. With that he left to don his armour, his new identity, and embark upon his first mission as a Blue Mist Trooper.

Illian gazed at himself in the ornate mirror that sat in his private quarters, a spectre of blue and grey staring back at him. Outside the ship he could hear Ret engaging Vong resistance within the hangar-bay, but he was confident she could handle the situation. Focussing back to his new armour he narrowed neon eyes beneath the sharp uni-ocular features of his visor before striding to a drawer beneath one of his many weapon-racks. Opening it he pulled out a grey cloak, holding it up to examine it. As he stared the material began to swirl, seeming to become as smoke, changing hew and texture until it seemed to have no form at all. He smiled, remembering the assassin he had taken it off, at how much the man had screamed before his spirit had fled his body.

'Who knew what a favour you did for me that day, bringing me this beautiful cloak...' he mused, shaking the cloak back to its original form and throwing it around his shoulders. Now he was ready, and just in time it seemed as a shudder went through the ship. 'Ret, report!' He barked as he made his way back to the bridge, securing a bandolier of archaic smoke grenades as he did, gifts from his brother Rosh during a holiday they had taken together many months earlier

'Vong resistance has increased dramatically. I lost one of my guns...' Ret sounded close to tears.

'There there little one. Get me Zandro immediately,' he said as he reached the bridge. Seconds later his Quaestor's voice cut over the top of screaming and guttural yells of pain that came pouring out of the communicator.

'Syn! Get down to the northern corridor immediately and lay down suppression fire! Rendezvous Beta has been blocked off and we are encountering heavy...' sounds of gunfire and more screams cut him off, followed by an Arconan battle-cry and the heavy humming of ignited sabres. Illian smiled and tapped in the landing sequence that would bring him down by the corridor.

'Affirmative Quaestor, I will do as you command.' He slung Silence over his back, just in case, and turned to his holographic avatar who was currently floating above the command console. 'Set us down Ret, and then as soon as I'm out get back up there and keep firing.' She nodded before her body began to flicker as she communicated with the main computer as Illian proceeded to the rear loading bay for insertion.

As the Retribution set down the shuddering hits turned into bone-jarring shaking as the large vessel was bombarded by Vong fire. As the hatch opened, Illian was greeted with yet another vision of hell as the grotesque aliens swarmed across the bay floor to exchange fire with the Arconan aggressors holed down by the entrance to the north corridor. Ret had set them down slightly to the right of the rest of his team, leaving a very open area and several Vong Warriors between him and his rendezvous. He could feel the Retribution screaming under the assault it was getting and knew it wouldn’t hold out on the ground much longer.

'Go Ret, bring them PAIN!' He yelled as he leapt off the closing ramp, rolling into the middle of a group of five aliens that had turned to engage the latest threat. He was vaguely aware of the Retribution blasting out of the hanger to do another strafing run as he rose to his feet, releasing one of his grenades as he did. Smoke swirled around him as his cloak mimicked it, making him seem like some sort of armoured apparition. The smoke thickened rapidly until it had obscured all natural vision, though it was no hindrance to Illian as the filters on his visor allowed him to see his foes clearly.

All around him Amphistaves flailed and hissed as the Vong attempted to fight through the fog, but to no avail. Illian was like a ghost as he moved silently through the smoke, his vicious gauntlets lashing out to tear off faces and lacerate alien jugulars, sending thick gouts of blood spraying through the air.

Soon there was no Vong left within his reach and just as he was about to go looking for more, an armoured hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Zandro stood behind him, beckoning to the now-smoke-screened corridor, where the rest of the squad were waiting silently. Taking one final, wistful look at the surge of Vong still trying to penetrate the fallout from Rosh's extra-thick smoke grenade, he nodded and moved silently to the others.

Activating his communicator he addressed his commander.

'Hunter Syn, Blue Mist Trooper, reporting Quaestor.' Zandro nodded and gave the signal for the group to move out.


01-11-2007 13:51:25

Before the words had left Kieran’s mouth Sashar’s fragmentation grenade was through the breached hole. With a brief sideways glance at Kieran Sashar leapt from the opened door, floating his way on a well aimed trajectory through the hole and landing in a crouch as the artificial gravity took him. Kieran followed him through the hole moments later adopting a similar position next to his brother, his helmeted face staring down the corridor whilst his agile brain analysed the situation. The standard procedure for them to follow kicked in; secure the area. Facing them were under a dozen of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, one lay between them and the other group whilst one was coating the walls of the corridor after taking the full force of the grenade to his front. With the lack of fire support they could probably drop one or two before they reached close range, and that was if they weren’t carrying thud bugs. His armour’s computer instantly calculated the most appropriate strategy given the situation, and the Mandalorian’s own idea matched much to his dismay; it would involve getting up close and personal with his enemy a little sooner than he would have liked.

“Hard contact!” Kieran bellowed out alerting the squad to the situation, and moments later he could hear Sashar’s informing the rest of the squad of the details but Kieran’s focus was on the enemy now.

The aliens reacted quicker than the pair of Jedi facing them, immediately forming into a dual line and breaking into a smart jog to engage the enemy, reeking of vigorous training and unquestionable discipline; he couldn’t help but admire them. The Mandalorian sought purchase on the wall where there was none, propelling himself off his right boot to add momentum to the diagonal slash his Lightsaber was moving into. His blow, boosted by the dark energies beginning to course through Kieran’s veins broke through the block, smashing the amphistaff aside. Kieran’s combat knife left his sheath in a flash and found itself embedded in the warrior’s throat leaving the Mandalorian with nothing to do but move on and leave the lifeless body to slump to the floor. Sashar had dropped another in a similar fashion and was now moving onto the next. From the corner of his eye Kieran observed Sashar pushing aside a blow. Linked through the bonds of brotherhood, master and squad mate they could read each others blows. Sashar’s blade held one of the hissing weapons in a high guard, the grey tinted warrior’s full weight bearing down on his brother but Sashar held it and after Kieran’s emerald blade had knocked aside a clumsy lunge it moved up into the unprotected shoulder joint dropping him neatly to the floor.

Without so much as a glance at his HUD the meld informed him that the rest of the squad were beginning to filter their way in. Rho was standing square in the centre of the corridor, his rifle raised and tracking a Vong to the rear of the group whilst behind him he could see Malidir touching down.

Kieran’s transferred his intentions through the force to his brother and the squad, alerting them of the plan. His first step was to break away from the close quarter combat he and his brother had engaged in. The warrior staring Kieran in the face had had his nose chiselled away among an assortment of other modifications indicating to him that he was facing a seasoned warrior. The nose-less Vong was bringing his Amphistaff down in a powerful over head chop, Kieran leapt to his left rolling over his brother’s flattened back as he sought to evade a slash from his own opponent. The Knight rose up to find his brother’s opponent facing him but still attempting to track Sashar who had neatly whipped the head off Kieran’s own opponent. His emerald blade flashed out at the stunned warrior and he dropped noiselessly to the floor.

“Set it up,” Kieran called out announcing the next stage.

He shrugged his Lancer round into his hands and lifted it into his shoulder already squeezing the trigger. The soft hiss of each round was followed shortly by the soft pop of the exploding ammunition. The crab armour pitted at first, attempting to repair the small indentations but under constant fire the rounds drove further and further in before Kieran’s target stumbled to the floor before him. The rest of Soulfire had joined the fray now and a chorus of hisses had erupted into the corridor adding to the existing sounds of any battle.

'Well, it works on their armour but I still prefer the old head shot,' he thought as he ploughed two rounds into a charging warrior's head and grinned as his face erupted.


07-11-2007 00:14:50

Back in the northern corridor, Team Two had re-grouped in a supply room at Zandro's bequest and were revising the plan to hold the hanger.

'We can’t keep it secure until we can control the magnetic field of the bay, and the controls are on the other side. The Vong seem to have already suspected this kind of attack and have closed it off to us. There is little we can do without re-enforcements, but I'm open to suggestion,' the Galeres Quaestor said, eyeing each of the members of his make-shift team calmly. Quejo sat against a wall, his face a dark shadow of frustration and anger, seemingly in direct contrast to the silent and apparently calm figure of Syn sitting opposite him. The Hunter still wore his armour and seemed to have entered a strange state of introspect from which he had not emerged since they had lost the north corridor. Narrowing his eyes, Zandro addressed the mad Jedi. 'Syn, any suggestions?'

Illian started as if he had been woken from sleep, his helmeted head turning sharply to face his Commander. Torment and Ret, who had been communicating rapidly to him since he had joined up with his strike-team, went silent, willing to let Zandro take Illian's attention for a moment.

'Yes I believe I might. I have been communing with the spirit trapped inside my blade and my ship, and together they have discovered a small window of opportunity. The Retribution seems to think it can clear the way to the main magnetic field controls for a few seconds, provided it had some support from the ground. Torment has devised a plan, but it will involve us separating again. Since I am the most... expendable member of the attack team, I will make the run to the control room while, if this plan meets with your approval Quaestor, you Esca and Quejo will attract attention to the north corridor and draw as many Vong as you can down this network of passage ways.' Illian waited to see if Zandro would buy the sith-spirit's plan. After a moment the Commander spoke.

'Very well, but if we attract attention to the north you will have no way out to get to the control station...' He was stopped short by the Hunter who, with a flick of his wrist, sent his twisted sabre spiralling up into the ceiling, attached to its length of barbed chain. With a sharp tug the hilt returned, carrying with it the grate of an air-vent. All the Arconan's in the room looked up to see the revealed duct above their heads.

'Unfortunately I'm told it only goes as far as the entrance to this corridor, near where the Retribution dropped me, but with enough distraction I can get through to the other side of the bay without engagement.' Again he waited for Zandro's response. It came within seconds.

'Fine, do it. Once you have secured the hanger-bay field control room let me know. On my signal deactivate it to clear the hanger. Once you succeed you need to rendezvous with Soulfire and assist them in reaching the mission objectives. Do NOT,' he said sternly, fixing the young Hunter with a cold stare, 'engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary. You are too weak to take on more than one or two warriors, if that, and should you fail we all fail. Understand?'

Illian only shrugged before force-jumping into the duct and making his way down towards the exit to the hanger. It would be essential for the others to make it to the nearest blast door before the vacuum, else they to would be sucked into space. He thought about his Quaestor's words as he had departed, and knew them to be true; he had been impossibly lucky thus far in being able to kill so many superior warriors. Illian's logic processors struggled to make sense of this epiphany before giving up to a more comfortable and familiar feeling- numbing, carefree madness, in which his proximity to death so many times on this mission was of no more importance than the weather report on Endor.

Smiling blissfully he returned his focus to his mission, eager to see the effects of unrestrained space on these ugly alien invaders. Reaching his exit point he waited to Ret to give him the all clear signal, in this case a huge barrage of concentrated fire into the horde of Vong still deploying in the large hangar bay. Kicking open the vent he heralded his arrival with two of Rosh's smoke grenades, waiting until the thick smoke had once again blanketed the area before diving into it, the colour of his armour and cloak at once making him seem as immaterial as his surroundings. This time Torment filled his mind with an urgency that left no room for jugular-tearing (a good thing seeing as how an attempt would most likely result in a one-sided tussle with a very powerful warrior), and sent him gliding across the deck and exploding out the other side of his smoke-screen just short of half-way across the deck.

Picking up his pace he managed to dive under the first few hasty attacks from rallying warriors, their lethal Amphistaves hissing and twisting above his head. Only a few hundred feet lay between him and his mission, but already the Vong were racing in from all directions. Focussing his will he just managed to pull the closest brute's feet out from under him, sending him scattering across the floor into another of his comrades. The victory was short lived however, as Illian looked up triumphantly to be greeted by the powerful fist of another large Vong. Carried by the momentum of his flight, the young Hunter continued to stay air-borne for a few more feet before crashing to the floor with a painful crunch. His broken mind raced as he managed to dodge another stave by mere inches, the serpentine head lashing out towards his vulnerable neck but bouncing harmlessly off his durasteel armour.

The Vong howled as they seized the opportunity to lay hands and staves on the elusive Dark Jedi and before long Illian was lost under a sea of vicious aliens, all raining down blows that miraculously missed the exposed areas of his armour. Just as they had managed to rip his helmet from his head, the sounds of battle erupted from the north corridor behind him, and the Amphistaff that was about to find purchase in the Hunter face paused for a moment. Laser fire flew over his assailants' heads and the familiar hum of light-sabres. Two fell immediately as the other three force-elites' shots peppered the Vong ranks with suppression fire. The warriors gathered around the fallen Hunter scattered to engage the new enemy, but not before one managed to land a brutal kick into Illian's temples. His vision swam and he felt a warm trickle of liquid running down his face as he struggled to hold onto consciousness. Distantly his Quaestor's voice called through the weakening fabric of his mind.

*Get up Hunter; you still have work to do. Complete your mission then rest. Prove yourself to be a true Arconan!* As Zandro mentally spurred him on, Illian managed to get to his feet and stumble towards the corridor that lead to the bay control room. There were still a considerable amount of Warriors in his path, but they were more focussed on the Dark Jedi counter attack than on a single soldier. Moving with graceful speed Illian covered the distance between his position and the southern corridor in seconds. One Vong came at him from the left swinging widely with its staff, but the nimble Hunter evaded the blow easily, managing to land a swipe with his gauntlet across the warrior's face, leaving him blinded and howling in agony but still swinging dangerously.

From his mission file, Illian knew the control room was up this corridor and then to the right, up a turbo-lift and down another small corridor. He figured it would be heavily guarded, Torment hissing his agreement as the Dark Jedi made his way cautiously towards his goal. As he drew near the lift he felt an unusual presence, a small flicker in the force, for a brief second before his senses told him it was gone. Unconsciously shifting into his familiar shadow-fist stance he made his way cautiously up the lift and to the poorly lit control room. With much of the station still under attack the lighting was becoming more and more unstable, and so walking in slowly, neon green eyes burning brightly in anticipation of the slaughter to come, the first thing that hit Illian was the decided lack of Vong in the room. For such a key asset he would expect two or even three detachments of warriors, but instead there wasn’t even one. The second thing that hit Illian was a blaster bolt straight into his chest, sending him to the ground clutching his chest and gasping as he fought to breath.

*Get up, get up, GET UP, GET UP!* Torment roared in his head, blotting out the pain as Illian rose slowly to his feel with smoke still spiralling up from the hole in his grey armour. Two points of fiery green began to shine through his visor as his eyes lit up. Had he been sane enough, his first thought would have been that it was unusual to find a blaster in a Vong occupied area. He wasn’t however, and the only thoughts to penetrate the mess that was his sanity were of vengeance so gruesome and depraved, even the sith spirit within his light-sabre stopped to chuckle quietly.

He moved with an unnatural quickness as the dark energy that had finally found its way through the energy barriers in his gauntlets coursed through his veins. This was a dangerous state for Illian as he was not in control of his own mind enough to realise the descent he was taking. Once enough energy was within him a transformation would take place that was irreversible one complete. It had only happened once before, when upon losing one of his gloves he had partially ascended. It had taken the unparalleled luck and set of iron balls of his brother Rosh to replace the barrier and revert him to his normal state, but even then the destruction he had wrought was titanic. Even now he felt the dark avatar stirring within him as a maniacal grin split his face underneath his helmet.

'Come out come out wherever you are...' He sang to the dark shadows around the room, his voice charged with pure energy. The air around him was crackling slightly, charged with static particles of dark electricity emanating from his body as he stalked through the shadows. Suddenly another blaster bolt came from his right and with preternatural speed he shifted his weight across, ducking the projectile and launching himself towards the shooter's location. As he sailed through the air he was vaguely aware of a dark shape passing him, moving as fast as he and heading towards his last position. All of a sudden he was aware of the odd flicker in the force he felt before and, dropping short, he spun on his heels with a hiss only to be confronted by a black-robed man mere feet away from him holding a DX-11 aimed directly at his head. His dress was eerily similar to the standard brotherhood garb for journeymen but where the star of Antei would usually lie a Vong symbol now resided, not to mention the fact that the man seemed not to have washed in an age with the robe ripped and torn in several places. Most striking of all though was his eyes, sunken and vague. In the split second it took Illian to register this, the man moved with speed that could only come from the force and again Illian felt that strange presence, leaping towards the charged Hunter firing bolt after bolt. Illian was faster however, augmented by the force as heavily as he was, rolling through the shots before leaping up to meet his foe mid air. They locked eyes as they impacted, dull grey meeting fiery emerald for a second that seemed to stretch for eternity. It was then that Illian realised, despite the strains the dark energy was placing on his already broken mind, that this man was or at least used to be a dark Jedi in service to the brotherhood. This close the spark was unmistakeable, the glazed eyes of one who lives partially in a mystical world of sensory extension and power, yet somehow his presence was masked in the force.

As fast as it had started, the eternal moment was over, and Illian hurled his opponent to the floor, tiny arcs of dark energy sparking from his armoured fingers as he did. The man stood, shaking slightly on his feet and looked around for his adversary. He took one step forward before he froze, finally showing emotion: shock as he looked down at the energised black gauntlet that was protruding from his gut, holding a descent portion of his intestines. Blood erupted from his mouth and he went limp, collapsing to the floor as Illian tore his arm free and cast the bloody mess in his hand across the room.

*Illian, we have managed to get back to a set of blast doors but the Vong are going to be on your position in minutes. Vent the hanger and proceed to rendezvous with Soulfire. Zandro out.* The radio cut through the charged atmosphere of the control room, allowing Illian a measure of stability as he forced a barely contained reply.

*On it... lord Quaestor... May the dark-side success...* Striding over to the control panel he activated the switch to open the bay up to space, not bothering to watch the mayhem below as he walked to the exit. Before he reached the door, a weak voice stopped him.

'Hunter... there are oth... others, like m-me... free' Illian turned his head back to face the not-quite-dead Jedi, eyes illuminated like green pits of hell, and smiled.

'My pleasure.'


08-11-2007 08:34:12

“Busy Zand’ika,” Kieran replied, swatting a thud bug from existence as he completed his spin breaking him back round to face the trio of bandolier carrying warriors that had Soulfire cornered momentarily.

“What?” Kieran asked after having hopped back past Sashar crouched form and allowing Malidir to take his spot.

“We’ve got a plan in action, we’re gonna vent the hangar then rendezvous with you,” Zandro began to explain.

“Negative,” Kieran replied immediately, “firstly we don’t need non Soulfirians muddying the water at this point, its already getting tight enough.”


“We’re behind schedule, haven’t made it to the command centre yet, the Vong resistance is significantly stronger than we expected down here,” Kieran reported back.

“Sure you don’t need our help,” Zandro replied, his voice full of concern for his brothers.

Shabla no, this is how we like it, just stay on mission and clear the path from the hangar to the command centre, Kieran out,” he finished turning to point at Rho who was waiting calmly behind him, “frag those di’kuts.”

His body smiled as the squad’s sniper as he caught the proton grenade being tossed to him by Sashar. Kieran turned around and shrugged his Lancer round to his front once more, his hand folding neatly round the stock he raised it to his shoulder and his targeting computer painted the weapon cross hair across his HUD.

“Covering fire on my mark,” Kieran ordered.

He waited a moment until a pair of thud bugs had hurtled down the corridor and crackled to death on Malidir’s Lightsaber before he sent the rough translation of now through the force. Sashar and Kieran popped round the corner standing behind Malidir who was acting as a shield against which any thud bugs would crack whilst they pumped round after round down the corridor. Rho made his move, the force guided throw sailed down the corridor at impossible slow speeds for an object in flight. The squad retreated round the corner and moments later their blast tinting activated and their helmets’ audio feeds were reduced to static momentarily.

The Exarch was first to move and peered his head round the corner to identify the casualties.

“We’re in business, and nice paint job Rho,” his voice grinned back at the sniper.

“Right, the other squad’s getting frisky so a change of tactics, no more stalls we’re going all out assault, smash, shoot, cut and blast everything that’s in our way, green?” Kieran looked back at his black clad Jedi.

“Green,” they echoed back to him enthusiastically, ‘this job just got noisy’.


13-11-2007 01:06:06

*'Illian, change of plan. Soulfire doesn’t want any company they can’t shoot at, so it looks like you’re on your own for the moment. Quejo and I are still holding this blast door and Esca has set off towards the command centre at about a forty-five degree angle to you, sealing off the route back to the hanger as he goes,'* The wounded Hunter's earpiece crackled to life as he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. It seemed his little brush with ascension had enervated him more than he had expected. *'I’m patching through the details of the new plan now...'*

'Aff Comm,' he said heavily, clutching an armoured fist to his chest as a bolt of pain raced through his body. Although his armour had absorbed some of the shot, at such close range he was lucky the blaster hadn’t killed him. 'Will... continue with the main objective. Out,' he practically snarled the last bit out as a little warning light started flashing on his shoulder, signalling the approach of another Vong search party closing on his position.

Hauling himself to his feet, Illian set off again, Ret guiding him away from the aliens tracking him. After he had defeated the dark-brother in field control he had been forced to flee deeper into the abandoned section of the station as a large number of warriors was detached to re-take possession of the magnetic field and by effect, the hanger bay. Not that it had mattered, the Vong having taken massive casualties in the initial vent, and the Retribution now holding the bay with its four massive laser batteries.

The initial flight had been easy for the darkness-empowered Hunter, but soon the flow of energy through his body had ebbed, then died and finally stopped all together. Since then the powerful warriors had been gaining ground on the fractured Jedi, while he had begun to slowly give in to the wounds he had received.

*'More incoming, forty feet back at vectors thirty-eight twenty-nine fifty...'*

'Don’t tell me where *they* are Ret, tell me where *I* need to be!' He listened to the silence for a moment as Ret communicated with his ship's navigational computer.

*'Up, up, UP!'* The little avatar sang joyously. Without pausing Illian drew the force into his body and leapt up, his gauntlets easily finding the air-vent Ret was guiding him to. Climbing up he was able to stand hunched in the darkness of the large duct, part of a network that honeycombed the entire station. His senses were alive, every sound and smell finding its way into his awareness as his heart beat faster and faster, his body motionless, as he listened to his hounds passing beneath him. Then they were gone and the lithe Hunter was off, sprinting down the vent towards his next objective.

The plan was simple enough, utilising an old design flaw in the station to help secure the extraction route for Soulfire. For defensive purposes, the listening post was built into a series of isolatable wedge-shaped modules that surrounded the central command centre. Blast doors were installed at every inter-module access point allowing for immediate containment of any number of the modules from the safety of the core. With command in the hands of the Vong however, each point had to be shut off manually by Esca on one side and Illian on the other, securing one of the modules from further alien incursion, at least until the teams were back into space and on their way to the Eye.

Stopping to check his data screen for the location of the next blast door, Illian took a moment to recover. Again he could hear movement echoing throughout the station beneath him as his pursuers made even more ground. Strangely they seemed reluctant to enter the closed vents, preferring to heard him from the ground, occasionally sending a thud bug or ten into the duct to remind him who was in charge of this little game of cat and mouse.

Illian's hand absently went to the bandolier circling his chest to touch the last remaining smoke grenades. The rest had gotten him this far, his cloak and armour assisting to earn him three blast doors and a few Vong corpses, but now it seemed he was running out of options. There was still another two doors to seal and with only one more trick up his sleeve it seemed he would have to get creative. Then again when it came to the removal of his enemies Illian was hardly lacking in creativity.

A depraved smile had just creased his filth-encrusted face beneath the spectral visage of his helmet when an undulating cry cut the air underneath him. Looking down he had enough time to barely dodge a salvo of 'bugs that exploded through a grate beneath his feet. Hitting the side of the vent he swung Silence up to his shoulder and took aim. Moving slowly, back pressed against the wall, he reached out with his senses, letting his ears and the intuition of madness guide him to his targets.

Pushing off the wall he fired, his shot finding its mark uselessly on an aggressors carapace-plated chest. In return he received yet another flurry of 'bugs, this time only barely missing their mark as the beleaguered Hunter started sprinting down the tunnel again. Behind him he could hear the sounds of pursuit, Vong roars and snarls giving him an extra burst of speed for a few more meters.

By now the force was little more than a walking stick for the Jedi, his energy spent and nothing but the sick machinations of his twisted sub-conscience to keep him moving. Somewhere ahead the elites of Soulfire were fighting for the honour of their clan and Illian had sworn that someday that right would be his. For now it was enough to help from the shadows, to remain thankless from all but himself and the voices that tore through his sanity, and to give the ancient spirits of destruction that watched over the Brotherhood enough Vong blood to give the Dark Jedi victory this day.

Up ahead he could hear another group of warriors gathering beneath the next vent and, unclipping the last grenade, Illian prepared to meet his foes head on. Swinging Torment on his vicious chain the Mad Hunter let out a savage battle cry and releasing the smoke bomb through the hole, dived down into the fray.


05-12-2007 21:36:37

The bridge of on the Abyss rumbled ominously as a pair of Coralskippers slapped into the command tower’s superstructure a pair of levels above. Xander was stood half way up the catwalk, listening calmly to a pair of ensigns that were reporting on the enemy’s reserves when Mejas abruptly stood.

“Down!” he barked, unable to manage any more before another Coralskipper impacted on the bridge viewscreen. The explosion sent shards of molten death spewing across the foyer and only a telekinetic shield hastily erected saved the Shadow Lord from being torn asunder. Then the vacuum took hold. A harsh roar of air escaping into the void filled the bridge, the muffled cries of the stricken bridge crew sounding distant against the roar. Mejas turned and threw himself towards the communications foyer, abandoning every modicum of dignity in an effort to reach the comparative safety offered before the blast doors closed. Either side of him, security troopers were pulling a few survivors through the breach, bracing themselves against the closing doors until finally they slammed to a close.

The Consul rose up to his full height and took stock of the men and women around him. They looked wide-eyed and wind-swept, but other than that, no serious injuries.

“Where is Xander?” he barked as the turbolift doors opened and a few lucky individuals from the crew pits emerged.

“He was one of the first caught by the vacuum, my Lord.” Said the sensor officer, Niles.

“Very well. Inform the auxiliary bridge that we shall be taking command from there momentarily. Also, get me a new captain.”

He whisked himself towards the backup bridge, his cloak trailing behind him like a storm cloud. The Vong had given his pristine new ship a bloody nose, and they would not do so lightly.


“The Drexl’s been called back to assist EV personnel.” Malidir reported as the elite team moved through the dying station, the sporadic blue/red strobes of their rifles filling the darkness. They’d gained momentum now and were moving at a steady pace, letting the maps in their HUDs guide them towards the probable location of the prisoners.

“Roger that. Zandro, we’ll be needing the Retribution for extraction.” Kieran said calmly, all too aware of the pump of breath coming over the comm from his team’s united breathing – they were working so closely together now that they’d co-ordinated their inhalations.

“We’ll fit you lads on no problem.” Came the Quaestor’s response.

Sashar abruptly stiffened and let his force meld stretch out back towards the flagship.

“Kieran, We need to hurry up, the Abyss isn’t doing too well.” He said ominously.

“Sarge!” Juda’s voice came over the comm, and it was a welcome one, but his panic filled the meld like a beacon.

“Jud’ika, have you brought us a present?” He said has he turned to face his Medic – the lone trooper jogged down the corridor, clad in his Soulfire equipment – he’d obviously just come from the Hangar. Behind him were more than a few Yuuzhan Vong.

“Flank Attack!” Rho shouted as he took aim and downed one warrior with a shot to the face, and Xar’s Plex sounded out once more, sending pieces of Vong scattering down the enclosed space. They were exposed, with no immediate cover and despite their superior firepower, were close to being overrun.

“Fall Back!” he shouted, adding his own fire to the torrent pouring down the corridor as they leapt over their dead, amphistaffs in hand.

“Not an option.” Sashar replied grimly. Kieran’s armoured pack bumped into Sashar’s, who wouldn’t move. The Mandalorian Sergeant almost didn’t want to turn around, but risked a glance. They were boxed in.

“Give them nothing, take everything!” he roared as he opened fire once more, a chill going down his spine and crawling over his skin from the united shout of assent from his squad.


Mejas swept onto the Auxiliary Bridge to find a much more peaceful scene. The backup crew were working quietly and efficiently, and the Commander in charge seemed at ease in the role of Acting-Captain. He offered a quick nod as Mejas entered, acknowledging the Shadow Lord, finished talking quietly with an ensign and moved to greet the Zabrak.

“My Lord. They managed to penetrate our shields, however we’ve evened out the protective umbrella – they shouldn’t be able to break through again, even if they send multiple Coralskipper kamikaze raids.

“They were willing to sacrifice their lives on purpose? This wasn’t just bad luck?”

“No, my Lord. The Yuuzhan Vong are fanatics, and it is entirely within their means to send their pilots to their deaths if it hurts us even a little.”

“True warriors…” Mejas muttered to himself before bringing his mind back to the task at hand.

“Have we got an update from the teams on-board?”

“Yes, my Lord. Soulfire has encountered heavy resistance and is pinned down. The other team is conducting a holding operation around the Hangar – the station is already overrun by Vong – we’ll be lucky to pull this off.”

“Sir, communications coming in from Soulfire!”

“Put on the main comm.” The Commander ordered.

”We’ve been swarmed, we have a plan to break through but we won’t be able to plant the charges necessary to bring this station down – request new orders.” Malidir’s voice was fuzzy over the static, it was obvious he was fighting as he spoke by the rhythmic thrum from his lightsaber and the Yuuzhan Vong screaming and shouting in the background.

Mejas stepped closer to the comm unit.

“Extract the survivors, obtain the information from that escape pod and evacuate. Leave the demolition to us.” He voice was clear, calm and authoritative – just what Arcona needed – an undisputed leader.

“Roger that. We’ll report in when we have the information and survivors.”


They were too close to use blasters against now. Soulfire stood back to back, each with a saber in hand, each carving and cleaving through the wall of warriors pressing down on them.

“Malidir, are any surfaces here near vacuum?” Sashar shouted over the din.

“Floor.” Was all the Prelate could manage in return. It was enough.

“Do it, Sash.” Kieran said before his brother could ask permission.

The Exarch crouched down, yanking a strip of ribbon explosive from his thigh and instinctively the group tightened their circle around him – 5 sabers against an entire army.

He made the hole a little bigger than a meter square and stood once more, tapping Kieran on the shoulder.

“Tick tick boom, Sarge.”

Kandosii. Xar, make us a path.”

“One Vong-be-gone coming up.” He replied grimly. Sashar and he quickly exchanged positions, the Heavy Weapons specialist retreating into the protective centre of the group and Sashar filling the void left in the circle with his own body and saber as his comrade yanked the PLX-2M from his shoulder and readied a chip. Relying on the meld, Xar aimed straight at Rho’s back and fired, not even bothering to warn the Nagai. He instinctively crouched, allowing the missile to pass bare inches over his right shoulder and it impacted in the chest of a Vong warrior, evaporating him and spraying explosive shrapnel and gore-covered vonduum crab armour fragments out amongst the other antagonists – giving Soulfire a temporary avenue in which to advance forward.

A pair of flash grenades sailed down each end of the corridor, the force once again carrying them over the heads of the Vong and they popped, dazzling the unshielded melee fighters. Soulfire moved as one, allowing the momentary confusion to cover their advancing down the corridor. They passed by innumerable dazed Vong before reaching a set of blast doors. Kieran gestured to Mal, who set to work getting them closed, and with a shudder, they started contracting. Unfortunately, a trio of tattooed, clawed hands yanked Sashar (who was last through the archway) back through. He yelled out in surprise and anger and another hand got under his mask, ripping it from his face before the doors slammed shut, sealing Soulfire from their Proconsul.

“Spast! Mal, get that di’kutla door open, stat!” Kieran yelled. The meld flickered off, just as a wave of agonising pain crossed through their minds. Each of them flinched in sympathetic pain – Sashar was being hurt. Badly.

“Not good. The doors are sealed shut, I can’t open them again.” Malidir said, punching the wall in frustration.

“I can.” Xar said ominously, hefting his plex once more. Kieran nodded, ignited his saber and scoured a triangle of deep gouges into the heavy metal.

“Xar, fire on my mark. I’ll throw a flash grenade through then Malidir, Juda, you two go in and grab Sashar. Rho, Xar, you guys move down to the other end of the corridor. Rho, I was supportive long range fire and Xar, ready the other blast door to close on my mark so we’ve got somewhere to retreat to.”

A chorus of affirmatives echoed out from Soulfire, and they sprang into action. The plex drilled a hole through the blast-door and before the metal had even had chance to cool Kieran was tossing a pair of flash-bangs through. They exploded spectacularly, dazzling and blinding the antagonists. Malidir and Juda followed them through, firing indiscriminately as they went. A chorus of Vong screams were heard and Kieran kept up suppressive fire from the breach, making sure that no more Vong could get through. Rho added to this, firing from afar with the Verp until a shout over the com of “Got him!” came over and a moment later Juda barrelled through the breach with an unconscious Sashar over his shoulder. His mask was missing, his hair in disarray and his face a bloody mess, but other than that he looked intact. Malidir was last through and together with Kieran they walked backwards, firing steadily as Juda kept running towards the further set of blast doors. As soon as everyone was safely through the doors closed and Soulfire took stock of the situation.

“Report.” Kieran barked.

“I’m fine. A little low on ammo, but I’ve got the EPP ready.” Rho said.

“My wrist gauntlet is down. Other than that, fine.” Malidir replied.

“Three missiles left, then I’m EPP’ing it.” Xar reported.

“I’m fine, but Sashar’s a mess. He’s got extensive trauma to both eyes – they’re too torn apart to save and he’s going into shock.”

Juda yanked his pack off and pulled out a spray hypo – Kieran recognised the label in the dimness as adrenaline. He stuck it into Sashar’s neck and depressed the stud, allowing the liquid into the Mandalorian’s system.

“Light! And give me some space!” Juda barked as he pulled the Ionic Stimulator from his pack. He placed a paddle face up on the floor beside him as Kieran moved his helmet spot to illuminate Sashar and his red-haired brother set the device to charge, then yanked the laser scalpel from its resting place inside his gauntlet. With a pair of quick slices, he cut the straps holding the chest-plate to the suit and then cut straight down the centre of the form-fitting suit, allowing the material to be peeled away. Next out of the pack was a gel lubricant tube which he sprayed on the chest, massaging it gently over Sashar’s skin until the pack beeped ready.

The medic placed the paddles on Sashar’s chest and he spasmed as the current ran through him, but it wasn’t enough.

“Charge them again!” Kieran urged and Juda went to do so, but stopped when he saw a sparking coming from his medical pack.

“Can’t. The pack’s been hit, the battery is damaged.” The dejection in his voice was palpable.

“Can’t you do anything?” Rho asked quietly.

Juda sighed, closed his eyes and placed both hands on Sashar’s chest, letting his sense of the force stretch out into his master’s body, feeling each individual organ. He soon located the heart, and was doubly alarmed to find it not pumping. He grasped it telekinetically, and contracted his grip slightly, then loosened. Nothing. He tried once more, this time ‘squeezing’ twice. There was a twitch of blood flowing – a flicker of life in the force. He kept up the rhythm, beating the heart for itself and then an explosion of light occurred. Sashar sat bolt upright, coughing and hacking.

“Mar’e!” Juda shouted, but quickly anesthetised his master before the Exarch could do any further damage to himself. Then, with delicate precision he cleaned the Mandalorians’ ruined eyes as best he cause, covered them in gauze, disinfectant and bandaged him up.

“He’s stable, but needs immediate medical attention I can’t give him here. He needs evac now.” Juda reported and Kieran nodded – he’d expected as much.

“Good work saving him – he’ll owe you a few beers. Get him on a stretcher, and you and Rho get down to the Hangar. Mal, call in the Drexl – say it’s the Proconsul that needs medical attention. Good luck lads, and see you back at the Abyss.”


“My Lord, report coming in from Soulfire!” The communications officer reported.

“Put it on.”

”We’ve broken through the enemy ambush and are proceeding on towards the survivors. Unfortunately, the Proconsul was injured in the attack and is being carried back to the Hangar. He went into shock but our medics stabilised him – he also has severe trauma to the eyes. We doubt that he’ll be able to see again.”

Even through the comm distortion, the worry in Malidir’s voice was evident.

Mejas was silent. His de-facto right arm, the man who advised him so ably when he had first taken the throne was injured, perhaps taking away his usefulness forever. This would have to wait, however, more pressing issues were at hand.

“Continue with the operation. The Dark Artisan and Broken Blade will be moving into firing positions in fifteen minutes. I want you off that station by then.” Mejas replied, looking pointedly at the Commander, who quickly relayed the orders to two of the three Warrior-class Gunships acting as the Escort for the Flag.

“Commander, what is your name?” Mejas asked.

“Commander Sulaco, My Lord.” He replied, looking uncomfortable at the direct attention during the heat of battle.

“Commander Sulaco, after this is complete, we shall have a talk.” Mejas replied, turning back to the battle.


It was an afterthought, but a relevant one.

The blast tape Sashar planted; it was never detonated. Kieran thought as he opened up the Squad’s comm channel.

“Rho, on Sashar’s gauntlet there’s an activation stud for an explosive charge. Press it.”

“Roger that.” Came the instant reply. The station shuddered a moment later, and Kieran grinned, picturing the faces of the Vong as they were sucked down the corridor towards the jagged hole in the floor, their own air dragging them to oblivion. It was comforting.

“You feel that?” Malidir asked, gesturing with his rifle at the blast door up ahead. It was a cargo bay, but Kieran could indeed feel the sentient minds behind the door, anxious mixed with resolve. One was more familiar than the others, though Soulfire’s sergeant was hardly overjoyed to discover him.

“Great.” He muttered as he stabbed his lightsaber into the doors. A moment later they slid apart and several haggard, half-starved Dark Jedi appeared. In the middle was Etah d’Tana, former member of House Galeres and presumed casualty of the Battle of Antei.

“Come, we haven’t much time.” Kieran said shortly, not wanting to enter into extended conversations with the stragglers.

“Mal, you go retrieve the information. Xar and I will baby-sit the aruetiise.”

“Have a beer waiting for me.” He replied happily, jogging off the other way whilst Xar took point in the group and Kieran brought up the rear, keeping his visor trained on the dark corridor behind the survivors.


Zandro winced once more as another booby trap was sprung – the Vong sure did scream when covered in napalm. Esca and Quejo were covering the right entrance into the hangar, whilst he and Illian had the left and thus far nobody had made it in since they’d established a perimeter. He’d felt the ripples through his force bond with Sashar and later had it confirmed by Juda. Sashar was badly wounded.

The thrum of the Drexl’s engines behind him was reassuring. At least Sashar stood a chance now. Almost as soon as the larty touched down in the hangar, Juda Appeared with a stretcher attached to the chest plates of their armour, allowing them to hold their weapons whilst carrying an injured party. It wasn’t ideal, as they had limited movement due to being attached, but it did protect the injured party and allow them to fight back. It had worked.

“How is he?” Zandro asked as Juda and Rho passed by him, the latter firing indiscriminately over his shoulder, unable to twist his body to face the challenge.

“Bad. We gotta go, Zand’ika.” Juda replied shortly as he hefted himself onto the Larty, glad of the cover offered by the Composite Beam Laser mounted on the site of the gunship.

“The stragglers are about 5 minutes behind us.” Rho shouted over his shoulder as he helped Sashar up onto the palette. A medical droid was already hovering over the Mandalorian, administering further anaesthetics.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Zandro put his former master and closest friend from his mind and resumed fire.


Malidir was the eye of the storm. His saber slashed about him like a wall of light, catching amphistaff blows, knocking thud-bugs from the air, searing through the weak points in the vonduum crab armour, dropping Vong after hapless Vong. Unencumbered by a squad, he was truly in his element, displaying a ferocity seldom seen in an Equite – he fought like an Elder, and a pissed one at that.

”Mal, Hurry it up. We’ve got maybe seven minutes until this station is flotsam.” Kieran’s voice floated over the comm, but Malidir barely heard it – he was completely focused at the task at hand.

He stood in the centre of one of the cargo bays. Yuuzhan Vong were throwing themselves at him, each getting torn apart by his saber and they were running out of men to cast at the Prelate. He smiled. 30 seconds later, it was over and he was left panting, soaked in blood and sweat with innumerable cuts and lacerations over his armour – blood seeped out from a few deeper wounds, but he didn’t have time to heal; that information had to be retrieved.

He yanked the unit from the escape pod at the back of the cargo bay, making sure to check that it wasn’t damaged before shoving it in the storage compartment of his pack. A look out of one of the large viewports before him settled his stomach – floating past, amidst the battle raging was one of Arcona’s ships: the Broken Blade.



“Sir, The Broken Blade is in firing range and the Dark Artisan is moments from acquiring an optimum firing solution. They have one corvette analog moving to intercept them.” Sulaco reported promptly.

“Are our teams clear?” Mejas asked.

“No, sir. They’re still in the Hangar. The Drexl is incoming with Juda flying cover in one of our Phantoms, but the Retribution is still inside – they’re waiting for Soulfire to return with the survivors.” The Commander replied.

“Instruct the Gunships to fire on the furthest section of the station first – saturation patterns. Drive the Vong down towards the Hangar and also give our men some time to leave. Also, I want Bombard Squadron to take that corvette down.”

“Yes, my Lord.”


The decking beneath Kieran’s feet shook violently just as he reached the blockade set up by his Quaestor.

“Su’cuy.” He said amicably as he passed his Sergeant.

“Copani Gaan?” Zandro replied, keeping an aim down the corridor as the stragglers filed past him.

“Sounds like they’re bringing the house down around us. I estimate two minutes. Let’s bug out.” Kieran said and the Erinos nodded in agreement.

“Illian, get your ship opened up and ready – we’re leaving.”

“As you wish.” The maniac replied sardonically, gesturing for the gunship to drop to the floor and allow passengers on board.

“Malidir, what’s your ETA?” Kieran asked as he stomped up the boarding ramp. “Malidir?”


There was a thunderous crack like the sound of a planet splitting, and electric green light filled the corridor, tearing it apart. He was through the blast doors just in time – the station’s automatic seals kicking in to make sure no atmosphere was lost. The effort was wasted, of course; the observation platform had maybe a minute of existence left, but Malidir was damned if he was going to get caught up in the [Expletive Deleted]storm pouring down around him. He ran as fast as his armoured feet would carry him, drawing deeply on the force to maintain his stamina.


“My Lord, the station is breaking apart. The Artisan is pulling away and the Broken Blade is providing covering fire as it withdraws.”

“And my teams?”

“No report yet, however the Proconsul has just landed safely. He’s being transferred to the Trauma Ward in Medical.”

“Prepare for a withdrawl – call the fighters back to form a close screen and notify me as soon as we hear from our men.”

“Yes, my Lord.”


The Retribution hovered at the edge of the Mag-con field. Her ramp was up, however Zandro and Kieran stood by the Airlock, staring into the Hangar. Already the station was breaking apart – it was an inferno as the oxygen-rich atmosphere fed the flames, urging them faster and faster through the corridors and ducts, ripping apart the delicate structure from the inside, but still the Retribution didn’t budge. Xar was stood in the cockpit as a safety to make sure Illian didn’t get cold feet and leave one of Soulfire’s best behind.

“There!” Zandro shouted, and sure enough Malidir ran down the right corridor into the hangar, his legs and arms moving for all that he was worth. His armour was scorched, pitted, immolated but still he kept coming, fed more by the force than anything until one of the fuel tanks at the rear of the hangar ruptured. Liquid fire spread through the space and time seemed to slow. Malidir Erinos was picked up as if he were a child’s toy; a mere rag doll tossed in the path of a hurricane. Luck would have it that he was sent towards the Retribution and only a combination of Kieran and Zandro’s manipulating the force to guide his path into the hatch saved his life.

“Got him. Go!” Kieran said into the comm, and the gunship turned about, knocked from the hangar partially by the explosion. A half second later, the station exploded.


“Soulfire are on their way back my lord. The survivors are in their care and they have the data package.” Sulaco reported, a grin taking his face despite his best efforts.

“Very good, commander. Prepare for the jump to lightspeed and make sure to transmit the rendezvous co-ordinates to all other Hyper-capable ships. No less than 8 micro-jumps before we assume our correct heading.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Mejas swept from the auxiliary bridge, but paused by the archway.

“One more thing, Commander Sulaco. You are hereby given command of the Eye of the Abyss.”

He was speechless. There was a new respect in his eyes.

“Th-thank you, my Lord!” he managed at last.

“Have a damage report for me within the hour and award every man that participated in the battle a two day pass once we return to Dajorra. Also, make sure a proper memorial is held for the men we lost today.”

“Of course, Lord Consul.”

Mejas allowed himself a private smile, before now, the men of his flagship had feared him – now they were ready to die for him.

That was, he reflected, handy, as he could very well need them to do just that in the near future with the information Soulfire had just obtained opening the way to many more theatres of war in the coming months.


05-12-2007 21:45:42


I’m satisfied with the participation for this RO. We got a decent story out of it, and it served its purpose of getting everyone to know each other. However, the next RO will have better participation – I’ll make sure. You all wrote well and grammatically and technically I have few quibbles – none worth mentioning here and marring a good RO.

However, those that showed themselves to be better in their field are the following:

You’re ‘winning’ this RO, though I always find it irritating to award medals for an event that’s essentially teamwork and carrying on an ongoing story. Your psots were well-written, had flare and kept the plot shifting along. Well done, mate.

You’re getting second place. You exploded onto the RO with an originality and natural style I’ve not seen in a while, and despite an icy reception from some members that should know better you kept plugging away at it. Good effort. My only suggestion would be that you try to keep your character sheet in mind, and also not stray too far from the boundaries of realism (this can be accomplished by thoroughly researching your subject matter before writing). With more RO’s, I’m sure you’ll improve to godly status.

You’re getting Third. You’re a solid writer and don’t need me to tell you that – you consistently posted and revelled in your character’s unique charm =P Keep it up man.

Thanks to you all. We’ll have another one soon.