Space Port Patrol

A free-form writing forum set in the Star Wars Universe...

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Scottish Ninja
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Post by Scottish Ninja » Sun May 29, 2005 9:18 am

Goral Hembredt. The most... well, maybe not, unknown, person in the galaxy. Hard times had come from the fall of the Republic, as the laws were truly enforced for once in his life.

I went from rich, respectable businessman to hunted smuggler in just two weeks... how much longer I'll stay like this I have no clue.

It took only a short time to learn how to pilot himself, and though it had been tricky, he no longer needed any assistance; though there were times when he wished he did.

At the moment he was safe. Anybody checking the cargo hold, or scanning it, would pick up nothing. The ship was devoid of cargo, a fact that would change soon. Coruscant was the destination, the objective, to get a shipment.

Only ten minutes in hyperspace stood between Goral and the capital of the Empire, though he always refused to refer to it as such; to him, it was still the Republic.

One thing nagged him. Or two; he was hungry. The second was resolved easily with some Alderaanian cheese. What the first was, he couldn't specify. But it was something, something, he was sure, that if he knew what it was, would worry him much, much more.

But at the moment, he thought, there was nothing to worry about. There were very few Jedi left in the galaxy; he accepted that they were terrorists, that had to be true. An assassination attempt was definite proof.

Goral nearly dozed off once, but caught himself, and at the appointed time he was fully able to release himself and his ship from the icy blue grasp of hyperspace.

Nothing unusual greeted him; he had been to Coruscant before, and not much had changed, despite the naval guard stationed at various points over the glowing planet.

The comm crackled. "IF-201, this is the Republic's Fire." One of the older ships, he mused.

"State your cargo, number of passengers and business on Coruscant."

Standard procedure. "Ahh... This is IF-201, I am the only one aboard and there is no cargo. I'm visiting relatives on Coruscant."

He had neglected to give his ship a true name, and Goral was thinking maybe he never would.

The controller aboard the Venator ahead seemed to accept the statement, and called one last time to give him landing clearance and to wish him a good time on Coruscant, and he hoped his relatives were doing well.

Not all clones anymore, I see. Well, that's done with, I'm through. Where to go? Perhaps near the Senate building, I should get a job there.

OOC: Hope that's okay. Space Patrol's always been interesting to me, but seemed like such a private thing.
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Post by corsos » Sun May 29, 2005 9:30 am

"Byron, I don't understand, he's only a clone." The Moff spoke quietly to Byron at the Consul's table at Thyferra. At such an official function talk of those things were certainly considered taboo.

"He served under me for five years sir, leading the ground forces stationed on my ship. You form a bond. He was a good leader and a better man." Chamberlain took a sip of the Corellian wine and placed it softly back on the table. "He will not be easy to replace."

"One clone colonel is the same as the next Captain - he is actually easily replacable." The Moff answered.

Byron didn't answer, he only smiled. Only those in the field and in the heat of combat knew the truth behind the clones. They weren't products or assets. They were people, not much different in most respects than everyone else that was embroiled in the Clone Wars. Though they were officially over and had been for some time the past months had been spent trying to pacify some independent minded systems and chasing rumors of rogue Jedi that survived the purge lead by Lord Darth Vader.

Thyferra was such a system that required pacification. The bacta rich natives thought they deserved a special place in the EMpire thanks to their unique healing substance. The Emperor disagreed. It didn't take long to scatter and destroy the conventional militia forces but guerillas had taken to striking from hidden places. They were proving far more difficult to root out. And it was to them Byron had lost Colonel Kato. He was a friend, and a fine warrior.

Byron took another sip of his wine, and looked across the table trying to take his mind off of his inner grief. The planetary governor sent by the Emperor had finally arrived and ate heartily at the head of the table. He was quite safe on the top floor of the former Republic Offices and he knew it. Chamberlain wished he and his men were just as safe on the streets, trying to secure the system for the Empire. He felt truly out of place at this table with the Neimodian crystal and Calamari delicacies but as one of the Captains assigned to the system Governor Jenki demanded his presence along with the rest of his bretheren.

At least some of his bretheren. There were no clones here. They were outcasts, below the rest of the command structure which was becoming more and more rigid and more and more human. Times were still changing and Byron was not yet quite sure he liked all of them. But Palpatine had won the Clone Wars, helped defeat the Separatists and restore order to a bumbling beuracracy and over political Senate. In his judgement, Captain Byron Chamberlain would trust. Some of his measures were extreme but often times necessary. Who was a young officer to challenge a man as wise as Palpatine.

The gentle ping of silver on crystal took Byron's attention away from his own thoughts and to the Governor who was standing to propose a toast.

"Gentlemen, my thanks to you for finally securing Thyferra to allow for my arrival. Your work will not be in vain. The galaxy's bacta supply is now under our control thanks to you. You have done a great service for our Emperor. May he rule forever."

"Here here." The room said together, and they drank.

The governor then continued. "Captain Tagge, I have good news. The Emperor has seen it fit to promote you to the rank of Admiral. You will be reassigned to the battle fleet at Corellia. As for you Captain Chamberlain - we will move you to the Carrack Cruiser Constance. You will be assigned to the newly Imperial Special Services Division. An attache from Imperial Command awaits you below - you are to attend to them immediately. I thank you for your service. You may finish your meal Captain."

"No thank you sir. I would rather report immediately. I thank you Governor." He turned to face the now Admiral Tagge and saluted. "Admiral. It was an honor."

"Good luck Byron." They shook hands and Chamberlain escaped the dining hall. He wasn't expecting this, not at all. And what Imperial Special Services? From the look of the two guards that met him to escort him downstairs he was about to find out.

Awaiting him downstairs was a man in his thirties, some ten years Byron's senior. "Captain, welcome to the Empire's new special services division. I am Director Dellevin."

"I don't quite understand Director, I have no experience in Intelligence gathering, assuming that is what you do."

"Some of that Captain, but we also need operations personell, including warships. Our operations are usually more delicate and require more thought, diplomacy and tact than most. One of the reasons we have selected you." Chamberlain nodded, awaiting further explanation.

"I beleive you were once attatched to the fleet that contained the Jedi Drevon Duke. Is this correct?"

"Yes Director, we fought together above Tanaab. He was assigned to my vessell."

"He's still alive Captain, and has escaped Lord Vader and his legions. You will find him, and you will destroy him."
"The goal of war is not to die for your country, it's to make the other bastard die for his." General George S. Patton

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Post by Captain Hector » Sun May 29, 2005 10:34 am

ooc: Betts, where are you planning to go with that cylinder? Should Reysha unknowingly have filched it from the fat man, or does that not work with your plans...? ill wait to find out the answer to post.

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Post by Darth_Kuangduk » Sun May 29, 2005 11:03 am

OOC:

Whoops! Sorry Betts, didn't see that you'd posted a timeframe. I just recall seeing Cameo say five years after the formation of the Empire, and went with it. But never fear, that's what we've got mods for. ;)

Hey Cameo, if you don't mind, could you edit that post of mine to reflect the previously established timeframe?

IC post laterish.
"Ah, my lord, is that... legal?"
"I will make it legal."

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Post by UnknownSector » Sun May 29, 2005 11:47 am

ooc: Scotty, as the fellow new(ish) guy, I stowed away on your ship, if that’s okay. Might as well get into the action. I’m voting for the six months after RotS, personally.

ic:

Jarin returned to the world of the waking as the ship reverted to realspace. He reached out with the Force, trying to sense if there was anyone coming near him. Nothing reached his senses, a testament to his lack of training. Master Aren had been able to sense lifeforms from several kilometers away. Jarin’s mind was sensitive to premonitions in the immediate future, but his concentration on the saber techniques and training had left him woefully unprepared in other areas.

The ship swerved and began its descent as Jarin relaxed and opened his mind to the Force. His realization hit him with the force of a rocket.

Coruscant!

The presence of myriad lifeforms stacked one on top of the other, as well as the Dark Side aura that permeated the system was as unique as a fingerprint. Jarin crouched in his small hiding place, unsure of why his destiny had led him back to this most unfriendly of planets.
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Post by High Moff Betts » Sun May 29, 2005 12:51 pm

ooc: The cylinder in question is a Jedi Lightsabre, as in Dwarth is a Jedi hunter. Just blundering into the bar is enough. things are about to get pretty hot. Post in the next hour or so.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sun May 29, 2005 12:51 pm

(ooc : Fixed. :) I'm looking for an opportune time to jump in.)
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Post by High Moff Betts » Sun May 29, 2005 2:15 pm

OOc: So as things stand everyones in the bar, heading to the spaceport or in the streets somewhere between the spaceport and the bar… well that’s close enough. Here goes nothing.

Ic:

“It’s best not mention him in such a public place,” Litan warned eyeing some of the newer arrivals while trying to keep abreast of the disturbing conversation going on between that Cleo girl and her new ‘Friend.’ “But he has a mission for you. A mission worthy of a- a man such as yourself.” Litan lent forward into the warm glow of the lamp set into the table’s centre. “He was told to pass it on by another acquaintance of yours. A little green friend you both share.”
Litan suppressed a smile as the other’s eyes widened for a moment in first surprise, then suspicion and finally acceptance.
“I sense no deception in you.” The Jedi said then. “Do you have a ship or are we to do our duty on Coruscant.”
“Oh I have a ship alright.” Litan replied, even if he wasn’t particularly pleased with her looks he knew the old girl had it where it counted. “The Vedrin’s Oath, she a Corellian Model, one of their Corvettes, crewed up, fuled up and waiting in the docks five klicks south of here. If we leave now we can be starside in… oh no.”

***

“Well if that’s not how the Empire does it’s business Mr. Dwarth-” Cleo said stirring her steamy blue drink with what appeared to be some kind of spoon. “Then the Empire doesn’t do business with me… hey let go of my arm!”
Dwarth wasn’t going to let her turn her back on him. If she wasn’t going to give up her information for credits. Compnor had other methods of persuasion. Many, many other methods of persuasion. And of course if she didn’t have any information after all… well even clone troopers had their needs, no matter how suppressed by indoctrination and genetic manipulation.
“It’s not Mr. Dwarth girl it’s Prefect Dwarth.” He spat at her, before the not spoon but stiletto blade became buried in his thigh.
Cleo twisted the knife and he yelled before she withdrew it and tipped her drink on the Imperial’s head. He fell to his knees, yelling inarticulately and he groped for the blaster he couldn’t see. She kicked in out of it’s holster and away into the bar.
“Nobody touches me unless I say so Mister Get it?”
He did all right. But he didn’t bother replying to her, instead he yelled into his concealed comlink for backup and thirty eight and a half seconds later all hell broke loose.

Litan told Jolturn just how bad a feeling he was getting about this just has the first group of clone troopers burst in through the doors. Silhouetted by the glare of the spotlights mounted on their Chariot LAVs they each made easy targets for Litan’s DC-15, but before the fifth second had passed the weapons capacitor had run dry and more white clad soldiers pored in while the weapon recharged.
“Frakking hell Cleo!” He shouted at the girl as she scrambled for cover while he too ducked behind a table to avoid the return fire. “I knew you were trouble from the moment I-“
Whatever else he may have said and whatever comeback she may was cup off by the distinctive snap-hiss of not one, but four activating Lightsabre blades.
Jolturn’s swung his in an arc deflecting a trio of blolts in the troopers as they stormed into the bar. Another, purple one from the booth where Litan had been sitting moments ago bisected one trooper and beheaded another while two more by the door, blue blade singing in a man’s right hand while the yellow dug deep into one Clone’s abdomen, sprung into deadly action.
As the bar’s clientele rushed into a protective huddle behind the bar, Dwarth disappeared with them. Litan cursed himself for not keeping a better eye on him and instead concentrated on covering Cleo. He’d chatted to her a lot over the past month as he’d staked out this bar as a possible ‘Jedi haunt’ (it had before the Clone Wars been a covert drop off point for the order) and had gotten to know her well enough. He supposed he’d have to take her with them now or else leave her to the mercies of Compnor. He shot one clone in the back of the head and another in the neck joint. Both went down fast.
In the centre of the Cantina, the tables pushed aside or tipped over as cover, the Jedi completed their grizely work. The clones hadn’t been prepared to face three Jedi in a confined space, they hadn’t even been prepared for one really, Dwarth had called them into arrest one Cantina rat who might have some useful information, and now they were all dead. Heads, arms, legs, torsos, all ended in cauterised stumps where the Jedi cut them down. Jolturn stood their for a moment. Regret tinged with something else sat uneasily in his stomach as he surveyed fearful bar patrons huddled at the back. Not one of them had been harmed, not even by the indiscriminate fire of the clones but still they feared the Jedi. They all hated it, each of the three, and Litan regarded them all, a casual, lopsided smile coming to him in that instant.
One month waiting for a Jedi to turn up and three come along at once.
“Ok I’m Litan, Lits you can call me, This is Master Jolts… can I call you Jolts?”
“No.”
“Fine, you are?” He pointed to Two Sabres.
“Devon Duke.”
“You?”
“Naton. Cameo Naton.” The youthful looking Jedi replied, his sabre hummed threateningly amongst the sobs of the frightened patrons.
“Good good. Girls name’s Cleo, shes coming with.”
“I most certainly am not!” She shot back wiping the blood off her blade and onto the Clone Sergeant’s shash.
“You most certainly am too!” Cameo argued back nodding to Litan, a slight gesture and a glance in her direction lending more than just emphasis to his voice.
“I most certainly am too.” She echoed the young Jedi in a monotone.”
“Excellent.” Said Litan with a wink in the younger Jedi’s direction. Not really caring for the other Jedi’s disapproving looks and too busy trying to keep his dinner inside as he stepped across the dismembered Clone trooper remains. At least he could ignore the fact that they were all dead people thanks to their all encompassing white armour. “So it’s settled then. Gentelmen. I suggest we get to the Space Port now before the Compnor brings the Empire down on us. What do you say? Hmm?”

OOc: You now have something to do. Go fourth. Oh and if it dosn’t work bare in mind I’m very tired and you can ignore/change bits whatever. I’ll post a lot 2m but as for now I’m going to sleep.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Master_Cameo_Naton
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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sun May 29, 2005 3:36 pm

All of 19 years old, Cameo Naton stood tall. Some said he was even taller than Skywalker, the Jedi poster boy. At least, before the Empire rose. Since then, Cameo, along with the scattered few surviving Jedi, had been on the run.

Cameo didn't know why he'd returned to Coruscant. He'd been fighting on Mon Cal, defending the water world from the Trade Federation's droid army when order 66 went out. His Master had fallen almost instantly, saving Cameo's life.

The Mon Cal's had done what they could to hide Cameo from the clones, but he wasn't safe there. It wasn't long before the clones had started showing up in force, but they were no longer hunting the Jedi, or even the droids. This time, they'd come for the Mon Calamari. They hauled them off in droves, and all the while Cameo had to watch, impotent to do a thing. Ultimately, he snuck aboard a smuggling ship, masking his presence in the Force.

He could have gone anywhere. Should have. Anywhere but here. Coruscant. Center of the "Empire," the planet that once glittered like gold to Cameo, was now pyrite. The message from the Jedi Temple had warned him away. Part of him still wanted to go. Just to see if his mother, a Jedi Master in her own right, was still alive. In his heart, deep down though, he knew she was gone. Just like his Master. Just like everyone else he knew and cared about.

And all he had was a name. Vader. The supposed Sith Lord. He'd seen the holos. He'd heard the name whispered in fear and respect in the dark. And right there was probably the number one reason Cameo was on Coruscant. The one name that had sealed his fate. Vader was credited with destroying the Jedi. Certainly, Chancellor Palpatine had given Order 66. But Vader was the tool, the one that in all likelihood had killed his mother. He had killed the clones that had slaughtered his Master. But he had yet to face Vader. He yearned for his chance.

But here were more people who needed his help. And unlike the Mon Cals, he could actually help them. And kill a few more clones in the process. He regarded this man, Litan, or "Lits" as he had said a moment ago.

The man was talking. “Good good. Girls name’s Cleo, shes coming with.”
“I most certainly am not!” She shot back wiping the blood off her blade and onto the Clone Sergeant’s shash.
“You most certainly am too!” Cameo argued back nodding to Litan, a slight gesture and a glance in her direction lending more than just emphasis to his voice. His Master wouldn't approve. But it felt good, manipulating a mind. It was nice to get his own way for once, when so many things had been going wrong.

“I most certainly am too.” She echoed the young Jedi in a monotone.”

Cameo grinned.

Litan winked at him, and Cameo nodded in the man's direction. He could hear the sound of clones marching quickly in the distance. “So it’s settled then. Gentelmen. I suggest we get to the Space Port now before the Compnor brings the Empire down on us. What do you say? Hmm?”

"I couldn't agree more," Cameo said, striding towards the doorway. He pulled his cloak over his head. His blind eyes stared out ominously, the purple lightsaber acting like a blacklight in the now war-torn bar. He paused at the door to look back at the other two Jedi, and his new "friend" Litan. "I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy hanging out with you."
Exile from the Exodus... Space Patrol... forever.

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Post by Scottish Ninja » Sun May 29, 2005 3:45 pm

With a loud scream of twisting metal, the ship settled to the pavement. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't be a good thing. But of course, these were normal circumstances, and it most definitely wasn't a good thing.

Goral swore. With the ship tilted like it was, he couldn't get the ramp open, but he could get out, and anyway, he didn't exactly need it.

It took little effort to get out, but after taking a look at the ruined landing strut, he swore again. It was completely telescoped and crushed, and would have to be replaced. Not a task he could do. It would cost a fair amount to repair it, money he didn't have.

If he could get a job, paying up front, it could be done. But how to get it...

He was so preoccupied by all this that he barely noticed the figure slipping off his ship, and running into the maze of corridors that made up the spaceport.

Goral noticed, then, the commotion a distance away, hearing the shots.

As is the tendency of innocent bystanders, he ran towards the area, wondering what had happened.
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Post by UnknownSector » Sun May 29, 2005 6:44 pm

His unknowing pilot disembarked rapidly, leaving Jarin with a wide open space to slip out of the ship. He’d taken a big chance by getting out of his cargo hatch and poking around just before landing. What to do and where to go?

The reverse thrusters slowed the ship as it came into docking. Jarin paused, irresolute for an instant. He closed his eyes and probed his mind for Meklur Aren’s teachings.

***

A beam of sunlight filtered down through a high window as a young Jarin Locus sat alone in a small chamber. At thirteen, he was trying to act the part of a studious, respectful Padawan and quiet his mind. It wasn’t working very well.

The door hissed open and his Master walked in. Sitting opposite his apprentice, he exhaled steadily. “Meditation is fundamental for a Jedi, my young apprentice. Through it, we allow our minds to become sensitive to the Force.”

Jarin’s eyes snapped open. “What does the Force tell us, Master?”

Meklur grinned down at his protégé. “Everything, Jarin. Everything.”


***

Concealing himself with the Force, Jarin moved swiftly down the ship’s ramp and out into the crowd. He reached out, looking for any enmity or suspicion directed at him as he bundled his cloak on his back. Weaving quickly through the crowds, Jarin started toward the more populated district of clubs and bars.

A sudden presence in the Force struck Jarin’s consciousness so strongly he smashed into another pedestrian.

Jedi! Moving this way!

He turned and concealed himself behind a pile of crates and cargo, waiting for his brethren to arrive by whatever path they chose.

~~~~

OOC: Feel free to pick me up when you get there. If there's a fight, I'll be in the thick of it.
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Post by Darth_Kuangduk » Sun May 29, 2005 8:11 pm

He felt it as he neared the door... a tremor in the force. Something bad was about to happen, something involving death. Drevon closed his eyes, remembering the slaughter earlier in the day. When he opened them again, white armored troopers with assault vehicles had pulled up in front of the cantina. He tensed, hands slipping into his cloak to find his lightsabers, but the clones didn't seem interested in him. They gathered around the cantina's front door, paused for barely a moment, then rushed inside.

Drevon rushed in after them, taking little time to think about why. These days, troopers storming a cantina could only mean innocents would be hurt. Or maybe it's just another excuse to kill clone troopers...

Such thoughts lasted only seconds as Drevon closed on the two troopers who had been left as a rearguard. His lightsabers sprang to life, yellow blade burning through one trooper's abdomen as the blue one separated another clone's head from his shoulders. He moved forward, intent on dispatching the others while their backs were still to him...

Jedi!

Shock and surprise rose within him as he saw not one, but two other Jedi inside the cantina, lightsabers spinning in a balet of death. It was over before it began. As the last body fell to the floor, and as the stench of charred flesh began to fill the room, Drevon took a closer look at the other two Jedi. They were both younger than he was, both dressed in unassuming clothes. Why didn't I sense them? Drevon wondered.

He slowly became aware that the cantina's other patrons had all taken cover. They huddled behind the bar and behind tables, fear and loathing radiating from them like a black fog. One more atrocity the Empire had committed. Not only had Palpatine and Vader killed the Jedi in a physical sense, they had killed them in the minds of the people. Luckily, none of them appeared to be injured. Maybe that would count for something. Drevon doubted it would.

“Ok I’m Litan," one of the patrons introduced himself as he stood from behind cover. He held a blaster in his hand, and Drevon recalled seeing him firing at the clones during the brief battle. Perhaps he'd been the reason the troopers had come here. "Lits you can call me," he elaborated. "This is Master Jolts… can I call you Jolts?”

The other Jedi regarded Lits before answering. "No."

“Fine," he said, nonplussed. "You are?” He pointed at Drevon. He introduced himself. The second youthful Jedi introduced himself as well.

There was clearly something going on, as Litan introduced a well dressed woman as Cleo. Drevon didn't interfere as they argued about whether or not she would come along, nor did he say anything as Naton used to force to persuade her.

When Litan suggested they leave, Drevon was hardly in the mood to object. Deactivating his lightsabers, he stashed them inside his cloak and headed for the door.

"I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy hanging out with you," Naton said as they left. Drevon felt himself smiling.

"I'm just glad I've found other survivors," Drevon told them. "I admit I don't recognize either of you, but we can get caught up once we're on our way."

Hurridly, and with as much nonchalance as was possible for Jedi who had just made a very public display of killing clone troopers, the group headed for the space port. Feelings warred for dominance inside Drevon. He was glad to see other Jedi, but he felt oddly guilty in their company. As if his gradual and knowing acceptance of the Dark Side made him somehow unworthy of it.

They made it to the spaceport without any further complications. Litan's ship wasn't exactly the most beautiful thing in the docks, but Drevon was hardly in a mood to argue. It was taking him away from Coruscant, and it was taking two other Jedi with him. Something nagged at the back of Drevon's mind, something familiar. He looked up and looked around, gaze resting on a stack of nearby crates. A figure lurked there, shrouded in shadow. "It can't be," Drevon said aloud. Yet the familiar presense he felt through the force was unmistakable.

He altered course slightly, heading for the crates. During his time in the Jedi order, Drevon had taken no apprentaces of his own. Even so, he'd known many Jedi who had. Friends of his... friends like Meklur Aren. He'd met the man's padawan only once, and briefly before they'd both gone off to lead the clone armies on Tellanroaeg. Drevon himself had left to command the clone armies at Taanab. He'd feared Aren dead, and his padawan with him. What had the boy's name been...?

"Jarin?" he inquired, hoping he'd remembered correctly. "Is that you?"
"Ah, my lord, is that... legal?"
"I will make it legal."

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Sun May 29, 2005 8:36 pm

"Happy reunions later," Cameo said, as the familiar site of a Clone Troop Transport swooped in along the skyline, with a second one visible in the distance. It began to lay down what could arguably be described as suppressing fire while clones began rapelling from the hovering vehicles.

Of course, the transports were designed to fight droids. Not Jedi.

The lightsabers came out even before the first shot was fired. The three Jedi led the way for the "civilians," defending them from the blazing onslaught, and deflecting some of the blasts back at the ships. The fourth, the one Drevon had recognized, joined them at the landing pad. These troopers had been prepared to fight Jedi - but they hadn't been prepared to face FOUR Jedi.

Some of the troopers landed behind a small fighter, and tried using it for cover. I don't think so, Cameo thought. He nudged the fighter with the Force, pushing it a mere foot. But it was enough... two of the troopers went careening over the edge, almost certainly plummeting to their doom.

Cameo suppressed a grin. No time to gloat. There were plenty more where those came from. The Jedi advanced on the oncoming Clone Troopers. The air filled with the heavy taste of ozone and charred flesh. With a sense of grim satisfaction, Cameo had a feeling the fight was just beginning.
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Post by Captain Hector » Sun May 29, 2005 9:24 pm

As if on demand, chaos erupted on the street. Clone Troopers rushed towards one of the establishments...if Reysha looked hard enough, he could pick out the name Something Bantha. Without thinking twice he sprinted towards to commotion, not even thinking of the utter stupidity of running head-on into a possible firefight.

The 'possible' soon turned into a full fledged pitched battle that didn't last quite long. And Reysha saw the reason why...Three Jedi?!? On Coruscant!?!? Excitement and fear ran through his head, and a sudden overwhelming desire to follow these Jedi, to see what would happen. He looked around quickly, and seemed to have lost sight of his pursuers, but he still ran quietly and the in shadows trackin the Jedi and the woman who was with them. They headed towards the nearest 'port, and he figured their goal was the only transport in the hangar. Process of elimination, really. They weren't going to escape in a snubfighter now, were they?

Maybe ill just sneak on board, or somthing, and...OH MAN...another Jedi! This has go to be the craziest day of my life...

It soon got crazier. Swarms of Clone Troopers flowed towards the Jedi, and while the Jedi's lightsabers flashed and turned back tide after tide of blaster bolts, the troopers slowly were advancing. From his shadowed back corner, Reysha saw one white-armored figure position himself to ambush one of the Jedi. Compelled by smethign he couldn't understand, Reysha whipped out his blaster and before he could stop himself, shot the trooper dead.
This is going to be a really crazy day....

ooc: had to do something quick, not much time to post now, next one will be something longer...but im joined...

my guy's a coward with a heart of steel. I'm not sure what that exactly means, but i'll let yall puzzle that out.

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Mon May 30, 2005 5:02 am

After the cantina incident he knew there would be more troopers on their way towards the spaceport, but he was as surprised as dumbfound when 3 more Jedi joined them. Better then just me and him He thought as he looked at Litan who laid waste to the clone troopers with his blaster.

Again he entered the fray around him as more clones dropped in from another transport, deflecting the suppressing fire with his lightsaber as they did so. Beside him he could see Drevon making short work of nearly every trooper in his way. The speed and efficiency in which he did it made sure there was no doubt of the man’s training and skill. A strong Jedi, but conflicted, he conceded to himself. Somewhere surrounded by clones he could see the headstrong padawan Cameo Naton. A brash Jedi who had adapted quite well to these darker times, using his tricks and skills where he saw fit. He disposed of the troopers with relative ease, it was true that they had the advantage since the clones didn’t have too much experience with multiple Jedi in confined spaces, but he knew skill when he saw it, and right now he was surrounded by it. Time to show ‘em what I really am.

Jedi. In a tenth of a second the title suddenly became affiliated with more then terrorists and traitors, as Jolturn danced gracefully through the incoming clone troopers. He was a Jedi Master in all its glory infused with the power of the Force.

The pilots of the troop transport observed the skirmish below them keeping their craft steady and out of harms way while giving their board gunners the best line of sight.

“ITF-2B3 what’s the status on the situation.” The comm. Unit crackled to life with an cocky Imperial accent.

One of the pilots grabbed the comlink and took a quick tactical survey of his surroundings before replying.

“This is ITF-2B3, the situation is out of control, they’re getting decimated down there. I count three Jedi.-“

“We just lost two more!” His co-pilot noted, interrupting him.

“Sorry command, we just lost two more. Requesting back up… wait, what are you doing.”

***

Jolturn could only imagine the vague sounds of blaster rifle and the pilot’s screams while his co-pilot cackled liked a madman. A small smile crept up his face as the smoking troop transport plunged itself towards the lower corucant levels.

“Alright let’s go.” He called to the band of fugitives.
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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Post by corsos » Mon May 30, 2005 9:34 am

ooc im going to bring in a character or two from the Order 66 thread I was playing around with - i think it works well.
___________________________________________________________________

Betrayal... a pain that will never heal...but the whiskey helped... a lot of whiskey.

Arson wasn't sure how many he had. But it certainly made the crystal clear images of his squadron killing their Jedi companions blurrier, maybe like it didn't happen. This experience had played itself out at every port the freighter had arrived at. Sal and Daa'luk tended to whatever the ship needed and Arson went and got drunk. As a Commando they were never allowed any excesses... and this was why. At times like this he wished Snipe would find him and finish what he started.

He had the face of a clone, the same face as millions others. He couldn't even show it - and not for fear of discrimination but fear of his life. CLones never went awol, they never defied orders. He did both. If they caught him he would be debriefed and then killed. Arson silently wondered if they would cut him up down to the chromosone before or after they killed him.

That's when he heard it. That humm..... I KNOW that humm...

JEDI!


Arson was careful not to lift his head from his cloaked arm too quickly - if the Jedi saw his face they would kill him. And he would deserve it. They went into action with lightning speed cutting down security and his fellow clones everywhere. He slid behind an overturned table and watched it... it was so beautiful.

They ran from the building and one thing entered Arson's mind.

Redemption...

After they left he silently got up and followed him. Arson spoke into his communicator. "Sal, tell Daa'luk to prep the ship, and have my armor ready. They're heading to your starport?"

"Who?" The young man's voice answered.

"You'll see."
______________________________________________________________________

The briefing by Director Dellevin was short. Mostly because Byron's task was ridiculously simple, elimination of a single Jedi. Why he needed a Carrack and a full compliment of men to take down one Jedi was not one of the questions he asked. He knew Jedi, he fought with them and knew how effective they were. They were brave, loyal, honest and most importantly they were effective. And the way the Galactic Army of the Republic simply turned on them and left them for dead still bothered Byron deeply. That was not how war was fought, turning on those that bled with you in a common cause.

And now it was his task to hunt down one of the only ones that were left. Most suprising he had been tracked to Coruscant. And that's what brought Byron here. The cantina had holes everywhere. A war had been fought here. And now it was continuing not far up the street. There were three of them, from Byron's count. His two escorts, soldiers from Imperial Intelligence tried to move forward but Chamberlain blocked them. "We're in plain clothes, they dont know who we are or why we're here. We sit and we watch. Understood?"

"Yes sir."
"The goal of war is not to die for your country, it's to make the other bastard die for his." General George S. Patton

:emperor:

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Post by Scottish Ninja » Mon May 30, 2005 10:15 am

Goral had been innocent. In a loose sense, yes, but innocent. Now white-armored soldiers were storming through the spaceport, blaster bolts were flying everywhere, and - Jedi! Here! On Coruscant!

All thoughts of finding an employer were thrust out of his mind as survival became the most important task to focus on. From his position, he could see multiple lightsabers flashing quietly through the air, until one contacted life and burned it away at a touch.

Goral had a bad spot for cover; it was highly exposed, but he figured it wouldn't matter, after all, he was only a civilian.

Fires started around the area, a direct result of the shots flying everywhere, hitting fuel barrels and smashing large chunks out of the walls. One of the orbiting troop transports suddenly twitched, and without warning dove into the spaceport, neatly hitting an ill-balanced ship. His.

"CENSORED"

The clones nearby heard, and suddenly they were firing at him. For what reason he could not tell. He had done illegal things, but they couldn't have figured out who he was in that amount of time.

The walls quickly crumbled around him, and he was pinned down. Goral didn't even have a blaster, as he reasoned if someone had to be shot the Republic would do it for him. But he wasn't the kind of person who had to be shot...

A flash of light, a spinning blade, four dead clones. One Jedi.

Wait... If the Jedi are such traitors, why defend unarmed civilians? That was the job of the military...
That's no tank!
"t all has to show impeccable logic and unflawed realism, even if it deals with a different galaxy and an era 3,000 years in the past or the future." - George Lucas

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Mon May 30, 2005 10:29 am

Cameo grinned at Litan, as the man fired his blaster with deadly accuracy. "We seem to be attracting refugees like flitnats to a dead bantha," he said, eyeing the growing number of civilians in their entourage. "Who the frell are these people?" he asked.

He didn't really care. He just mostly wanted to be sure one of them didn't stick a vibroblade in his back. Figuratively speaking, of course. No one would get close enough to do him in with such an unrefined weapon. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't live to tell the tale...

"Hell if I know," Litan shouted, not allowing the Jedi's question to distract him. "Mind clearing a way to my ship?" he gestured with his blaster.

"That's your ship?" Cameo was slack-jawed for a moment. "You're either braver, or dumber than I thought..."

"Hey!" Litan protested. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts."

Cameo nodded, silently hoping the man was right. If not, they were all frelled. Seriously, perilously - and perhaps fatally - frelled.

"To the ship!" he called out, charging forwards. He scythed his blade through three clones that were setting up an E-Web. Before their bodies even hit the floor, Cameo tossed his saber at another Clone who was lining up a shot on Litan. His saber speared his eye, and snapped back towards Cameo's hands like it was on an invisible elastic tether.

"All too easy," he murmerred. The distant whine of more Clone Drop Ships picked up from the distance, no doubt echoing off of the skyscrapers all around the Space Port landing platform. "All aboard," he called. "Women and children first! Non-stop flight to getting the frell out of here now boarding!"
Exile from the Exodus... Space Patrol... forever.

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Post by Scottish Ninja » Mon May 30, 2005 10:56 am

Goral heard the call to get aboard, and moved from his spot, behind the four Jedi. His foot collided with something. A blaster rifle. He picked it up, aimed, and shot a clone. That's for shooting at me, he thought. Another transport appeared, and was about to disembark troops when a rocket materialized from nowhere and struck the bottom of the craft. It began spinning slowly, and descended towards them out of control.

The repulsors struggled, but could not maintain lift, and the vehicle smashed of the wall of a building before collapsing along with a massive pile of rubble behind him, blocking the path of many people.

Goral slowly backed towards the ship, squeezing off shots at advancing clones. His level of practice meant that only a few hit, but those few did make a difference.
That's no tank!
"t all has to show impeccable logic and unflawed realism, even if it deals with a different galaxy and an era 3,000 years in the past or the future." - George Lucas

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Post by UnknownSector » Mon May 30, 2005 11:20 am

Jarin’s single saber had hissed eagerly into being as he stepped out into the open, facing the flood of clone troops. This was his chosen path, and he sped down it as only he knew how. The Padawan spotted Master Jolturn parting the sea of bolts like a rock amidst a flood; Cameo Naton, whose mother had been at the Temple as long as Jarin could remember, was deflecting shots toward ships and troops; Drevon, a friend of his late Master and a strong Jedi in his own right, twisting sabers in a flow of death.

Opening himself fully to the flow of the Force, Jarin combined his saber forms toward the incoming clones. He felt some of his consciousness leave his body as the Force took over, guiding the Jedi’s steps. Deflecting, dodging, leaping, and weaving in and out of the enemy, the young man was a sight to behold. Clones dropped where they stood, losing legs and arms to the green blade as it flew through the battle. Others found themselves shooting at empty space, trying vainly to keep up with the tempo Jarin danced to. Using every asset the Force gave him, Jarin reveled in the simple comradeship of fighting alongside his brothers in the Force.

A shout brought Jarin around to where the others were congregating as the troops retreated in disorder. A squad of clones had a civilian cornered and were about to neutralize whatever threat the man posed. One smooth jump atop a crate led to a leap of inhuman height which landed the Padawan in the middle of the four clones. He spun swiftly, slicing a swath through the troops and pausing to look at the man as the bodies crumpled around him. It was the pilot of the ship Jarin had stowed away in. Behind him, Jarin heard Cameo calling for the refugees to board.

A few meters away, a clone crawled up over a pile of debris and leveled his blaster at Jarin. The young man nonchalantly thrust out his left hand and the trooper’s head snapped back as the debris slammed into his face. Jarin turned and sprinted toward the lowered ramp, reflecting a stray blaster bolt. The pilot was blasting away with the best of them, even though he wasn’t hitting much. Refugees were pouring into the ship, and Jarin started grabbing children and tossing them aboard, using his saber hand to shield the shots that were still incoming.
Madness, I tell you. We need more pirates.
26

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Post by Scottish Ninja » Mon May 30, 2005 11:46 am

Goral aimed up, letting off a volley of shots at a low-flying transport. One or two bolts hit, hissing on the thick armor. The pilot noticed, and swung around, bringing the forward guns to bear on him.

Oh, frell... That was stupid...

The duracrete evaporated around him, and he was lost in smoke. The pilot, apparently satisfied, turned away. A second rocket shot straight through the open compartment, leaving an acrid trail of smoke behind. This was a surprise. Who was firing? It certainly wasn't anyone very close, none that Goral could see. But it soon became clear that the pilot could, and the vessel banked swiftly, cutting through the air towards the shooter.

It proved to be an unwise choice, as the next rocket plowed directly through the cockpit. The pilot was dead before he could react, and then the transport was burning away, pieces shredding off it as it dove into a monorail line. Immediately cleanup and medical crews were seen racing for the crash, but there could be no one left alive inside.

Goral took cover behind a large chunk of fallen concrete, and ejected the rifle's energy pack. While replacing it with one taken from a fallen clone, he saw the four Jedi, as though they were wading through a white river. He would do his part to reduce it to a stream, and leaned out with his finger on the trigger.

He ducked back immediately as the bright shots appearing near him burned his eyes. Goral blinked, once or twice, to clear it, and then stood up and fired. Two clones died instantly, never to see who had shot them. He kept his firing towards the left of the main body of troops, away from the Jedi. They had saved his life; he could at least try to return the favor.

A roar knocked him to the ground as a dropship slashed overhead, bare meters from the platform, and clones piled out from it. He was trapped, definitely trapped, except if-

The rocket caught the rising transport square in the rear, and it fell onto several clones. Goral got over his surprise quickly, and opened fire o those who remained.

But one had the sense to take cover, and he had ammunition. Goral was out. One option was left to him.

As the clone stood up to fire, a small rock bounced off his armor. It was probable that he had heard, rather than felt, its impact, and stood for a second confused by this absolutely pointless action. But Goral knew by now that a second in combat was precious. He managed to make it around his cover.

But this only helped momentarily, as the clones on the other side were still there.
That's no tank!
"t all has to show impeccable logic and unflawed realism, even if it deals with a different galaxy and an era 3,000 years in the past or the future." - George Lucas

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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Mon May 30, 2005 12:47 pm

OOC: Jedi to the rescue. =] in reply to your post Scotty

IC: As they boarded the ship, turret fire from one of the transports caught Jolturn’s attention. Not specifically its fire but its victim. Pieces of duracrete fell on and around the man as the laser blasts impacted on the wall behind him. Quickly he reached out to feel the man’s presence but there was only pain quickly followed by death. The first person caught in the crossfire.

He closed his eyes for a second mourning the death of the man. Certainly the man’s family would be notified of it which meant more supporters for Palpantine and his Empire. As he opened his eyes he could see another man trapped behind the duracrete rubbish with a clone trooper aiming its rifle for him. With a slight ruse the man momentarily escaped his assailant.

Jolturn deflected some more incoming fire before using the Force to summersault over a group of clones, attacking them from above. His display of Force usage had its downside, enemy fire seemed to be concentrating more on him now that he was in the open. He dodged most only returning fire to sender when he was unable to avoid them, the scent of seared flesh assaulting his nostrils as he cut through a couple of clone troopers ahead of him.

Lost in the moment, he almost ran passed the trapped young man, when he skidded in a halt beside of him. “Want to come along?” He asked.

The man only nodded, eager to get out of the hot zone. Together they returned to the ship with relative ease, since most of the troopers were now down or decimated. “Hurry aboard now, we’ll meet later.” He said as he motioned for the ships entrance.
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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Post by Scottish Ninja » Mon May 30, 2005 2:43 pm

Goral nodded again, and climbed the ramp into the ship, breathing heavily. His only concern now was to get out of here, and with the Jedi seemed the best bet.

What would happen next he knew not what.
That's no tank!
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Post by Darth_Kuangduk » Mon May 30, 2005 2:46 pm

Seen from high above, the battle at the spaceport looked like as if the technician in charge of a lightshow had gone insane. Blue energy blasts from clone troopers crisscrossed the landing platform, as did green blasts from hovering assault transports and the occasional red from civillian weapons fire. Streaks of purple, green, blue and yellow traced deadly trails as Jedi lightsabers did their work. Orange explosions blossomed as rockets hit home or fuel canisters combusted.

It reminded Drevon of some of the worst battles of the war, only this time there were no droids. The intensity and ferocity of combat taking place was focused on the Jedi, one time leaders and friends of the clones who now sought their deaths.

More assault transports were arriving in the sky above the spaceport, Drevon noted as a series of blaster bolts careened off of his lightsabers. And now, he saw, armored personel carriers were disgorging their clone troopers onto the street nearby. The Jedi fought the rising tide as best they could, but Drevon knew they couldn't keep it up forever. Four Jedi in one place - the largest concentration of force users Coruscant had seen since the assault on the Jedi Temple. The Empire had used overwhelming force to crush the Jedi then... they would do the same here.

Drevon spun about, lightsabers flashing. Several of them had drawn too close, and paid for it with their lives. The clones - unprepared for the fight they'd stumbled into - were now organizing. Squads of them took cover behind whatever they could find, laying down a supressing barrage with their APC mounted turrets and handheld blaster rifles while their compatriots advanced.

"All aboard," the cry pierced the din of battle, "Women and children first! Non-stop flight to getting the frell out of here now boarding!" Drevon turned to see Cameo and Lits blazing a path of carnage to the boarding ramp of the corvette. Time to go, then, and none too soon. Drevon ran for the ship, pausing only to deflect what blaster fire he had to. Reaching the foot of the boarding ramp, he found to his surprise that it was not only Jedi who were hurrying aboard. Civillians... lots of civillians... were also trying to get aboard. Perhaps the idea of the Jedi hasn't died entirely, Drevon thought hopefully. If these people trusted them enough to seek refuge during the middle of a heated battle, they still believed in Jedi.

Feet planted at the foot of the ramp, Drevon quickly scanned for his compatriots. Relief filling him, he found the other three Jedi alive and seemingly unharmed. That was enough for him. Moving backwards so he could keep his eyes and his sabers pointed towards the enemy, Drevon made his way up the ramp and into the ship proper. Several crewmembers had taken up station there with blasters of their own, covering the Jedi and civillian refugees as they boarded. Just a few more...
"Ah, my lord, is that... legal?"
"I will make it legal."

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Post by corsos » Mon May 30, 2005 9:16 pm

The scene at the starport was even worse. The Jedi and clonetroopers were fighting in public and they were massacring everyone. Arson was in the throng of civilians that were trapped in the deadly combat zone. And it gave him the perfect situation to huddle with the other frightened masses and shuffle his way onto their ship. He didn't have his armor - only his blaster pistol hidden under the dirty cloak he wore. He kept his hood up, and hunched over like an old man. He shuffled past the other Jedi and into the main cargo hold. It was so crowded, so very crowded - he would be impossible to detect before he wanted to be.

As he walked up the ramp he whispered into his comm. "Sal. Im sending you the markings on this frieghter. Im stowing aboard it - you need to track me. Arson out." He tucked the comm next to his blaster and took a seat in the corner of the cargo hold next to the other refugees.
__________________________________________________

It wasn't difficult to track where the Jedi had went. Just follow the blaster fire. However, once inside the starport Chamberlain allowed his plain-clothed agents to continue the physical tracking while he went to the security center. From there he watched all the action unfold.

He hadn't seen such frantic combat since the Clone Wars ended. Part of him missed it, seeing the Jedi fight. There just seemed to be something more elegant, more honorable about it. They took every care to spare every civilian life... while the clones seemed to fire almost indiscriminantly their primary targets their only concern. Well... all the Jedi but one was taking every care - every one but the one Chamberlain was sent after.... Duke. He was being far more reckless.

Chamberlain watched the security send wave after wave of men after the Jedi but they repelled them like opposing poles on a magnet. He also watched his agents slip onboard the shuttle with the other civilians. "Pull the men back - we've placed our people onboard. Order a withdrawal."

Chamberlain then walked over to the communication station. "Constance, this is Chamberlain. We're transmitting you the designation of a freighter about to leave the system. Make a token attempt to stop it - then let it go. Perhaps they'll lead us to more of their comrades. I'll return to the ship shortly."

"Yes Captain."

Chamberlain nodded to the starport manager and then made his way to his shuttle's platform. The chase had begun.
"The goal of war is not to die for your country, it's to make the other bastard die for his." General George S. Patton

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Post by Captain Hector » Mon May 30, 2005 10:06 pm

In shock at the betrayal by his blaster and hand, Reysha decided to clamp down and do as little as he could to attract further attention. Not that it mattered much, as there was not much to do except watch the beautiful deadly dance of lightsaber blades and blaster bolts. It was entrancing and seizure-inducing at the same time, like those kids shows he used to watch over the 'nets.

The space port was rapidly flling up with clone troopers, and the Jedi slowly were pushed back towards the corvette. As they retreated, masses of other civilians follwed, huddled together. While he might be a coward at times (selectively brave was the way it came though in his mind), Reysha knew that he no longer had a future here on Coruscant. If he could even escape from the rapidly closing net of clone troopers, there was still that outstanding warrant on his head. And that clone he killed. And the wallet still in his pocket. But he had his pad here, and all his stuff. And Bluebeard, and Jorge, the whole crew. He couldn't leave them behind. Could he?


He ran.


The open path towards the ship narrowed, but Reysha ran as fast as he could. All the civilians were already on board by the time he reached the ramp. He half-hoped that ramp would be lifting and the ship would start to rise, so he could, in dramatic fashion, grab on to ramp and pull himself aboard. Fortunately, the ramp was still on the ground, and he stumbled aboard just ahead of the last of the Jedi.

The cargo hold was pretty much full, so Reysha just flopped down by a bulkhead close to the ramp, and watched the scattered cover fire from the clones through the dwindling hatch opening. The corvette began to rise off from the space port, and Reysha knew that getting out of coruscant would be just as, if not more difficult as the heated battle they all just witnessed.

He was still debating whether to slink back into the shadows, to avoid further attention from the Jedi, when one motioned for him to get up and follow him. Reysha stood up, and as he saw the lightsaber still in the man's hand a thought came up unbidden...Man, it'd be pretty neat to have of of those...Maybe if i nicked one...? He tried to supress it, but it remained somewhere in the back burner of his mind.

In the meanwhile, he followed the Jedi.


ooc: an opening for someone...

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Post by High Moff Betts » Tue May 31, 2005 6:40 am

OOc: My home internets gone down, something strange with the lines. I'll be back as soon as I can but otherwise i probably wont even be able to read up till the weekend. This is highly annoying as I have the next three days off, so expect a large post when i'm back or i may get lucky and things may be okay tonight. Either way i'll be back when I can. May the force be with you...
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Post by UnknownSector » Tue May 31, 2005 7:30 am

Jarin stepped further up into the Corvette, mind awhirl. The Force soothed any anxiety in the Padawan’s mind, and the confusion that had dogged his steps since the death of his Master was slowly seeping out. He exhaled strongly, as though forcibly expelling the anger at the Empire and its forces from his body. Jarin took his place alongside Cameo Naton, remembering the times he had seen the young man training in the Temple with the other Padawans.

“So, is anyone in particular in charge?”

Cameo turned his blind gaze toward Jarin, who grinned and shrugged, briefly wondering if a blind Jedi really needed to turn around to see things. Jarin himself sensed things in combat more clearly than sight and sound could ever reveal. “Someone should know where we’re going and what we’re doing once we get there.”
Madness, I tell you. We need more pirates.
26

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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Tue May 31, 2005 7:44 am

Cameo shook his head. "Doesn't matter. At least, not yet," he said. "Though I think he's in charge of this circus," he said, indicating Litan with a tilt of his head. He rushed over to the man, with the sound of blaster fire ricocheting off the ships magnetically sealed hull. "They're gonna start firing with the big guns in a minute," he said. "How about we get this show on the road."

Somehow, miraculously, they had gotten everyone aboard. Even a few extras. It seemed refugees were a dime a dozen on the new Empire's capital world. Not surprising. There were quite a few people who weren't exactly thrilled with Palpatine's new order.

Cameo and Litan hurried into the cockpit, where Litan already had the pre-flight sequence underway. "This thing have shields?" he asked, sensing the growing number of ships amassing around the vessel. "And guns? Lots of guns?"

Litan snorted derisively. "You don't seriously think I'd be in this line of work with a defenseless ship, do you?"

Cameo frowned. Line of work. Frell, I don't even know you. What line of work? He didn't ask. He figured he better let the man focus on driving. He resisted the urge to take the controls away. A Jedi would make a better pilot, but after all, this was his ship. Who knew what quirks it might have in combat. Better that the man who knew her was at the wheel.

"Get comfortable!" Litan shouted back at the ragtag bunch of survivors. "This is gonna get hella bumpy!"

Cameo jumped into the co-pilot seat, and strapped in. "Ready to assist," he said.

Litan just stared at him. "Well, my day can't get any worse," he said. "My ship is full of strangers. The Empire is shooting at me. And my co-pilot is blind. Figures."
Exile from the Exodus... Space Patrol... forever.

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Mirrodin
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Post by Mirrodin » Tue May 31, 2005 8:01 am

OOC: Sorry for the OOC, but is this still open?
Wars come and go, but my soldiers stay eternal

After the freedom of Spyrta soon won, Shinobi, Ronin, Samurai, and Orochi will clash under waning moon and rising sun

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Master_Cameo_Naton
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Post by Master_Cameo_Naton » Tue May 31, 2005 8:33 am

(ooc : Don't see why not. We've got a few refugees if you want to use one of them as a PC, or figure out a way to hop in later with another character. :))
Exile from the Exodus... Space Patrol... forever.

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JediMasterJolturn
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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Tue May 31, 2005 9:36 am

OOC: We're on a roll again lady's and gents.

This thread is almost always open.. heck last time we had people joining all the way till thread numbero 30 .:)
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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Scottish Ninja
Hey! A tank!
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Post by Scottish Ninja » Tue May 31, 2005 12:45 pm

OOC: Is Cameo blind? I didn't get that statement. I'll get an IC up after some plot.
EDIT: Okay, I see. Reread a little bit more carefully, I did.
That's no tank!
"t all has to show impeccable logic and unflawed realism, even if it deals with a different galaxy and an era 3,000 years in the past or the future." - George Lucas

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High Moff Betts
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Post by High Moff Betts » Tue May 31, 2005 1:02 pm

Ic:
The ship rose from the deck. Slowly at first but with gaining speed, her tired repulsors causing the Corvette to wobble as she as she yawed heavily to port and boosted for the sky. Clone LAVs moving to follow
The Vedrin’s Oath was a deep vermillion red with cream stripes just like the old Republic currier vessels he’d used to fly the Alderaanian big-wigs around in, although those sleek little beauties didn’t sport streaks of carbon scoring or gun-metal hull patchings.
As Litan and the Jedi Naton scrambled towards the command area, he could feel the ship shuddering as her turbolasers launched salvos of green fire at the pursuing craft. He didn’t need to be on the bridge to know that they’d hit. He knew his Chief Gunner and security officer, the Wookie he fondly referred to as Shaggy (Sharsheg properly) well enough to know he didn’t miss.
“They're gonna start firing with the big guns in a minute," the youngest Jedi with the odd eyes was saying. “How about we get this show on the road. This thing have shields? And guns? Lots of guns?"
Litan snorted derisively. "You don't seriously think I'd be in this line of work with a defenceless ship, do you?"
The Vedrin’s Oath had been built to military specks for Alderaan’s Planetary Defense Forces before the demilitarisation. Picked up by Litan for a ludicrously low price on a lone from the Royal Bank of Alderaan, the ship ran on a skeleton crew of deserters from the republic navy. In particular from the crew of Litan’s old command.
"Get comfortable!" Litan shouted into a wall mounted com unit. Addressing the ragtag bunch of survivors now milling about in the hold. "This is gonna get hella bumpy!"
The two squeezed passed Mr. Lynch, the ships Navigator, Litan taking the primary pilots position and the, he now realised blind Jedi the co-pilots chair. "Ready to assist," he told him strapping in.
“Good to know," Litan said after mumbling a few choice coments about his day and the amount of passangers he'd just picked up. "Hit that switch and monitor the coolant flow, we’re going to be pushing this old girl’s engines hard.”
“Davey!” Litan called over his shoulder at the blond man fiddling with the navicomp. “Plot us a course past the nearest moon, we’ll jump above the pole, try and scramble their sensors.” As much good as it'll do us he didn't bother adding.
“Eye C-car-captain.” Lynch stuttered, it wasn’t nerves, just the way he spoke.
“Sh-Should I l-launch the fighters?”
“What? Both of them?” Litan frowned, as he considered the pair of old model of two-seater Z-95s stowed next to the shuttle pod in the ship’s hold. “Don’t bother, we should be out of here before that.”
“Course?” Naton asked.
“Random at first,” Said Litan, guiding the ship away from the looming wedge of a victory class Star Destroyer. “At least till we’ve shaken any obvious pursuit.”
“And then?”
“Nar Shaddaa.” Litan said. “First stops Nar Shaddaa and a Hutt named Gengaargh.”

OOc: I sort of have internet. I’ll explain 2m. Vett has 50 random crewers make up any u need. All you need to know is that rank goes unspoken so everyone ‘scept Lits is Mr. (becuase they're all deserters, it's an honour thing) weather they’re male or female. We’ll say 30-to-40 civies plus the Jedi, name and use any crewers you like. I’ll post a lot tomorrow, Litan’ll explain whats going on. Nows a good time for propper introductions.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Scottish Ninja
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Post by Scottish Ninja » Tue May 31, 2005 1:19 pm

Goral, still carrying his blaster, quickly determined that the cargo hold with many refugees could not be the best for his nose, and headed for the bridge. There had to be something he could do.

As he approached, the pilot turned to him. "Who the frell are you?"

"Goral Hembredt, cargo pilot. Perhaps, shall we say, illicit... cargo? I can't tell you what my friends call me, as I don't seem to have any. Anyway, Jedi saved me, I shoot clones. What can I do for you?"

He leaned back against the closed door.
That's no tank!
"t all has to show impeccable logic and unflawed realism, even if it deals with a different galaxy and an era 3,000 years in the past or the future." - George Lucas

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UnknownSector
Rational Delirium
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Post by UnknownSector » Tue May 31, 2005 3:19 pm

A small child stumbled over a dropped bedroll and tumbled head over heels, landing at Jarin’s feet where he sat silently. fighting his internal anger. He knew that his anger stemmed from fear, a fear of failing his Master’s legacy. I didn’t even get to take the trials...

The Padawan’s eyes snapped open at the movement at his feet. The child had curled up on Jarin’s grey robes where they pooled on the gleaming black floor. She lay back, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth as her brown eyes regarded Jarin’s blue gaze.

“Are you da Jedi dat killed da nasty men?”

Smiling, Jarin glanced up for a concerned mother. “Yes, young one. They were trying to kill us, so we had to defend ourselves.”

The girl squirmed, sat up, and put her hands on Jarin’s knees. “Can you talk to da Force?”

The Jedi was somewhat taken aback. “Yes, I suppose I can. But the Force knows everything in the universe, so usually we simply listen to the Force, instead of talking. Why?” The girl blinked once, and then lay back down.

“Can da Force be my friend? To play with? Daddy is dead, and I can’t play with him anymore, Mum says.”

Jarin bowed his head. He, too, felt as though a father had been ripped from him.

“Yes, little one. The Force is our friend.”
Madness, I tell you. We need more pirates.
26

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sidekick
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Post by sidekick » Tue May 31, 2005 4:13 pm

"You're shockingly unoriginal, old mate," a voice came, from the turbolift door "That's why I love ya, I think. Why I hang around here, anyway,"

A attractive young man stepped out of the turbolift, disregarding the random passengers on the bridge and walking straight to Litan. He ran a hand through his short, styled brown hair and grinned.

"Why Nar Shadda?"

"Same reason as always," Litan shrugged "Sanctuary. Information. Guns. Women."

"In that order?"

"You know it,"

"Sounds good to me," the guy shrugged.

They spoke like old friends, but in reality they'd only known each other for a handful of months. Adats had rescued him from one of Palpatane's prison camps. A place for the hardline enemies of the Republic... those too valuable, with too much information in their heads, to murder, or shoot in the back.

He smiled, ruefully... felt guilted immediately. Many of the prisoners had died in that attack. Litan had been after someone else, a young almost-Padawan by the name of Pim Antillies - he'd died.

Five of the ex-prisoners, all experts in their own spheres, had joined Litan's crew. He had been happy ever since. Upset he'd missed the fight planetside, but pleased Litan was back in one piece. And pleased they were returning, yet again, to his home away from home.

Nar Shadda.

The old dirtball.

A place away from the Republic.

A place some people called the Smuggler's Moon.

A place he called... Sanctuary.

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High Moff Betts
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Post by High Moff Betts » Tue May 31, 2005 9:34 pm

ooc: Pete. Character's name pls? ...mind you Lit'll just refer to him as kid and 'the boy' probably anyway. i'll be able to post in a couple of hours.
"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think I walk that line every day." -Church. Red vs. Blue.

‘I swear by my pretty florid bonnet I will end you’ –Mal. Firefly.

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Captain Hector
The Last Gunslinger
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Post by Captain Hector » Tue May 31, 2005 10:38 pm

ooc: i see nobody's responded to my opening...post in an hour or 2

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JediMasterJolturn
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Post by JediMasterJolturn » Tue May 31, 2005 11:55 pm

OOC: Hector I can take that opening, just didn't have the time to write a post untill now.

Anyway, you got msn?
SP forever!

At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable. - *~ Christopher Reeve~*

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