Star Wars: The Dead Republic (closed, started)

[The Funslinger]

Six months after the execution of Order 66, the end of the Clone Wars, the formation of the Galactic Empire, and the fall of the Jedi Order, many now struggle to find their place in the Galaxy...

Could people please repost their sheets here before ANY RP POSTS so they're on the first page for quick referral? The coding wouldn't fit into a single post, there were so many.

Spoiler: Dran Telvann

Name: Dran Telvann

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Appearance: 6'1", with thick dirty blonde hair, and a trim beard. Turquoise eyes. No longer wears Jedi garb, but still opts to wear a dark beige Obi with grey trim, with simple, dark brown pants and black, shin length boots, and a standard utility belt.

Profession: Jedi (Jedi Knight (Jedi Guardian))

Skills: Fairly skilled lightsaber combatant. Practices the fifth form of lightsaber combat, Shien and its twin, Djem So. He is most skilled in the core force powers, using them to enhance athleticism, using telekinetic abilities. He uses a self-taught technique of blunt strikes with force energy that, rather than move the enemy, or object, hits it with kinetic energy and can break bones if not repelled.

His abilities with other force abilities from his earlier training prior to specialization are serviceable, but much less developed.

Starting Equipment: Formerly, a green bladed lightsaber, build for sturdiness and a stolid defense with firm striking ability. Currently possesses a thirteen inch vibro-blade and an S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol. An audio com-link.

Back story: Born on the planet Ithor, to a small human settlement, Dran was taken in his infancy after his mandatory birth blood test identified him as a Jedi potential, and was taken to the Jedi temple on Coruscant. At the age of thirteen, he was taken as an apprentice by a Kel Dor Jedi Master, Brin Mon. They were together until the beginning of the Clone Wars. When Dran was 22, they were dispatched with many other Jedi to the Arena on Geonosis to rescue Jedi Obi Wan Kenobai and Anakin Sky Walker. It was here that Brin Mon was killed in the droid onslaught. Dran blamed himself, and retreated from responsibility, fearing it. Nonetheless, he passed his trials and ascended to the rank of Knight.

At first, he did not take an apprentice, but served on the front lines of the war. One year into it, though, at the urging of Master Yoda, he did take on an apprentice whose master had been killed in battle. This padawan was a seventeen year old human, Tian Zabarr. The two grew close and brotherly as they continued to fight in the war.

When Order 66 was executed, the two were leading troops on Wayland against a Confederate army. Their victory was almost assured, when the clones opened fire on them. Tian was gunned down in the crossfire, with Dran barely escaping to a docked Republic drop ship that allowed him to make it past the Republic cruisers. When he received the All Clear beacon from the Jedi Temple, he returned there like many others. Here, he and others were ambushed by the 501st Legion. Many were killed, but he was able aid a displaced Padawan, Meera Layne, in escaping. Now the two must survive by any means necessary. She has come to see him as a surrogate master, though he rebuffs her on this.

Working odd jobs and gravitating towards a bounty hunter lifestyle, Dran and his companion find themselves stranded. Their only option is for Dran to accept a blackmailing attempt by a local spicelord for him to participate in a huge arena battle. If he wins, he will receive prize money, enough to escape the planet.

Starting Location: Ylesia

Spoiler: Meera Layne

Name: Meera Layne

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Appearance: 5'8", with shoulder length dark hair, and a worker's tan. Bright green eyes. Wears a simple, dark grey tunic and a blue travelling cloak, with light grey leggings and shin length silver boots.

Profession: Jedi (Padawan)

Skills: Lightsaber combat, somewhat trained in Soresu, but has researched Makashi as she wishes to learn dueling skills. Has basic training in core force abilities, and an affinity for using the force to calm and heal.

Starting Equipment: Blue bladed lightsaber with a slim, standard handle, built for speed and finesse. A small vibro-blade. An audio com-link.

Back story: Born on Coruscant, when her force potential was discovered, Meera was taken to the temple in short order and trained. She initially shied away from saber combat, being of non-violent nature. However, after witnessing a demonstration by resident master, Cin Drallig, she saw beauty in its execution and took to it. At thirteen, she was paired with a Twi'lek master who nurtured her affinity for the healing arts. The two took up an aid role in the Clone Wars, and went to the Jedi Temple when the beacon was activated. Here, her master was slain by clones, and Meera ran. Eventually, she was found and saved from Vader's clone troopers by Dran Telvann. The two fled the planet and went to ground together. She has come to think of him as a surrogate master, though he denies this. Currently, they are stranded and he must risk his life in combat to secure means to leave. She watches from the stands.

Starting Location: Ylesia.

Spoiler: Zan Valion

Name: Zan Valion

Species: Dathomirian

Age: 34

Appearance: 6'6", with dark blue skin under his black markings with the yellow eyes and cranial horns shared by all his kind. He dresses in a black uniform with a silver buckled belt.

Profession: Imperial officer/dark Jedi

Skills: Lightsaber combat. Favors the Juyo form for its brutal effectiveness. Skilled at using the force in athletic means, as well as using dark side powers, such as choking an enemy, and the dark rage.

Starting Equipment: Two red lightsabers, build for speed. A holdout blaster. A holographic com-link. Commands a Republic (now Imperial) Battleship, the Dread Shadow. Has a black Delta-6 Starfighter for personal use.

Back story: Born on Dathomir, he was not tested at birth due to the tribal nature of the planet, and as such, was overlooked in his force potential. At the age of 18, he enlisted with the Republic Navy for personal gain, and rose to the rank of Captain. Some time prior to the beginning of the Clone War, when Palpatine was beginning to build the basis of his corps of Dark Jedi, he discovered Valion's mostly untapped potential, and gave him training in secret with others, taken from the Jedi Service Corps, and the main Jedi order, itself. While most of the following years were devoted to training, he was at times sent on clandestine missions to interfere with the Jedi and was never caught. Now he has stepped from the shadows to openly hunt the remaining Jedi.

Starting Location: Dread Shadow's main deck, in orbit around Malastare.

 

[Fappy]

Seranya

Spoiler

Name: Seranya Nyx (Cover Name: Shel)

Species: Arkanian Offshoot [http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100328022509/jedipedia/de/images/1/19/JaraelPortrait.jpg] (Sephi hybrid)

Gender: Female

Age: 25

Appearance: Seranya stands at about 1.7 meters tall and has a slim/fit build. Her skin and hair--which she generally keeps bundled in a curly ponytail--are snow-white, like many of her kind, and she has piercing light blue eyes. Though she'd spent much of her time in the Order wearing Jedi robes, she'd never really been fond of them and has since been sporting a dark ensemble including a grey jacket, black/silver belt, large black mechanic goggles she usually wears on her head, tight fitting black pants with black boots and gloves. Despite her pointed ears and incredibly fair skin, she'd still be considered attractive by human standards but due to her cover she tries to conceal her appearance.

Profession: Ex-Jedi and Ex-Dark Jedi. Currently on the run and poses as a droid mechanic for her cover.

Skills: Seranya was trained as a Sentinel and is adequately skilled in both lightsaber combat and most Jedi-trained basic force abilities of that era (mostly telekinetic). She specializes in using Force Speed to increase her agility in combat and to make quick escapes. She has also learned to block blaster bolts with her hands since she's been primarily using her blaster of late. She's a good shot, but if nothing else she excels at being hard to hit. She also has a strange force ability that she doesn't quite understand. When others meet her eye-to-eye they may suddenly feel wracked with an intense guilt. For some it is arbitrary guilt, but for many others they are suddenly consumed by guilt-filled memories. She's come to call this ability "Penance".

Starting Equipment: She sports a heavy blaster pistol on her hip and conceals a blue single-hilt lightsaber inside her jacket.

Back story: Seranya was recruited by the Jedi when found at an orphanage on Corellia. Kloston Val, a young and recently promoted Jedi Knight, discovered her affinity for the force while undergoing an investigation in the area. Though she was only three years old at the time, she had heard tales of the valiant Jedi and agreed to come with him to Coruscant. She proved to be an incredible asset to the Jedi as her training progressed, however she did have some problems grasping the Jedi's philosophy on life and the force. By the time she was fourteen she saw Kloston as a father and they became an inseparable pair. He taught her the best he could about the Jedi's philosophies, but wasn't articulate enough to really get Seranya to understand it. And then, a few years later, war came.

Seranya was a brilliant fighter, but the realities of war hit her hard. Fighting and destroying druids was one thing... but when it came to taking lives. The few men she had been forced to kill during the war were like needles constantly pricking her psyche. Kloston tried to explain that it was the will of the force that they died and that death wasn't anything to be afraid of, but she didn't understand. Then, during one fateful battle her master was struck down. She'd hesitated a moment too long before finishing off her foe and he managed to get a lucky shot off before she took him down. Blaming herself for the death of her master Seranya became a "troubled" padawan and was recalled back to Coruscant. After some special counselling it was deemed she was ready to continue her training and was assigned an new master, Jedi Knight Tors Vakar.

Little did the council know, Tors was a a servant of Palpatine and she'd been selected to join their ranks. He began teaching her forbidden Sith teachings and, without her knowledge slowly guided her down the dark path by playing off her guilty nature. Tors ingrained in her further that she was the cause of her master's death and that she'd unfairly taken the lives of those she fought against in the war. Eventually the two of them traveled to the front-lines of the war once Tors had convinced the council she was fit for duty once more. It was there that her fall to the darkside had been completed. When Order 66 was given she and Tors turned on their former allies and cut them down. Tors had convinced her that she couldn't feel guilt for orders given to her to protect the Republic, but the logic only went so far.

The guilt of her betrayal consumed her and so too did the darkness in her heart until eventually she became numb. However, one small part of her that opposed the darkness remained... screaming to be heard at every waking moment. She and Tors went on to hunt other Jedi across the galaxy as the Empire rose to power and after four months of murder Seranya had had enough. When ordered to slay a child (youngling LOL) that small part of her that remained true to her nature screamed loud enough to be heard and she refused the order. Frustrated, Tors went forth to kill the child himself but was stopped when Seranya's lightsaber pierced his heart.

After that she ran. She ran as far away as she could from the Jedi, the Empire and anything that reminded her of her past sins. She wanted to forget the Force, but it wouldn't leave her. It haunted her like a specter everywhere she went. She was neither Jedi nor Sith, tormented by her own memories and constantly fighting the temptation to be devoured by her guilt and grief. Because of this she developed a unique ability she calls "Penance". When looking into someone else's eyes she can use the force to make them relive painful memories of guilt and even make those with great sins feel the pain of those they've wronged. It takes incredible willpower to use the ability when she intends to however, and it has a tendency to manifest by itself when she's feeling emotional.

She's currently hiding on Ord Mantell posing as a droid mechanic (she tinkered with them during her training and had a knack for metal working). A well known and dangerous bounty hunter has recently arrived on the planet in search of her and he wouldn't be the first. She knows too much and the Empire needs her silenced.

Starting Location: Ord Mantell

 

[EmperorZuma]

Spoiler: Tiren Navoc

Name:Tiren Navoc

Species: Miraluka

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Appearance: His old Jedi garb was a standard tan robe ensemble, but he also wore an opal helmet with gold decoration that covered his head and eye-sockets. Now, he wears a dirty-white shirt and baggy tan pants, with a cloth wrapped over his eyes-sockets. When in public, he covers up with a robe and hood to further hide his identity. Usually goes barefoot unless it's harmful to do so.

Profession: Jedi Padawan

Skills: A powerful force wielder for his age, Tiren has a strong connection to its power, even more so than expected of a Miraluka. To hone this connection for his benefit, Tiren has sacrificed his lightsaber training, only being able to use Soresu to good effect.

Starting Equipment: A double-bladed green lightsaber is still in his possession, but uses a double virobladed staff in combat, keeps an audio comlink.

Back story: Born on a remote colony, on a planet Tiren didn't even know the name of; he wasn't given a test of his ability before he was drafted into the Jedi Order, as his people were all sensitive to the Force's influence. From an early time in his training, it was clear that a life of a Jedi Consular was before him, as Tiren chose to spend hours upon hours studying the Force itself, and its effects on everything around him. When he was given to a Master, Tem'shal, Tiren could already sense the coming darkness in the galaxy, but could not see where it came from, or whom heralded its arrival.

He wasn't given much time to contemplate this, as the Clone Wars started soon after, and Tir and his Master found themselves deep in the conflict. This was the first time Tir had to suppress his openness to the Force, as his heart ached nonstop as he could feel himself surrounded by death and malicious intent. Then, during the Second Battle of Geonosis, Tiren and Tem'shal found their position overrun, and in the final stand, Tem'shal was struck down. This devastated Tirwn, who's resulting fury forced the Confederates to retreat, allowing the Republic position to be reinforced.

After the battle settled, Tiren was recalled to the Jedi Temple, where it it was eventually decided that he remain on Coruscant until peace returned. This time was spent in quiet reflection, as Tiren turned away most who came to support him, even members of the Council. His meditation did bring him peace from his loss, even when the skies over the temple filled with the fire of battle.

Then, the Purge came, and Tiren could see that death had come to surround him yet again. As Order 66 had been given, and the Jedi across the galaxy began to die, Tiren could feel their deaths, their voices crying out in their final moments, yelling of a most egregious betrayal. When the 501st, led by a newly fallen Jedi, swarmed the Temple and started a slaughter, Tiren fled. He gave the Sith a wide berth and forced his way past any troopers that stood in his way. Soon, he was free of the Temple, but he was still trapped on a hostile world, with the weight of death smothering his very breath. It was only by sheer luck, perhaps with a little help thanks to Jak, who's latent force-connection was easy to sense by Tiren, that he came upon the Tiberius. He found Lysa, the ship's captain, and appealed to the nature he sensed within her, showing his usefulness if she took him along. For the past six months Tiren has been with the Tiberius' crew, still reeling from the shock of the Purge around him, and the guilt of abandoning so many in their time of need.

Starting Location: Taris

Spoiler: Lysa Estor

Name: Lysa Estor

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 42

Appearance: Wears her red hair, a little longer than her shoulders, down. Her eyes are a shade between hazel and brown. There is also a scar that runs from the back of her jaw, just under her ear, to a short distance above the neck. Her casual attire are black boots with jeans and a leather belt with a holster for her blaster and blade. Wears and open, navy blue vest and a long-sleeved, red shirt to finish the outfit.

Profession: Smuggler, Captain of the Tiberius (Barloz-Class Freighter)

Skills: A crack negotiator, from the experience of her trade. Her talent for scheming has let her predict and out-plan many of her adversaries, and may the Force be with anyone who falls into her traps and ends up in her blaster sights.

Starting Equipment: DL-44 blaster pistol, short viroblade, and a holographic comlink. Her ship, the Tiberius is mostly up to factory-model specs, except for a few places in the cargo bay where false floors lead to smuggling chambers. Also added another turbolaser battery on the bottom of the ship, synced with the weapons console. There is also a faster regenerating deflector shield and the power plant has been upgraded to compensate, though it is the same model.

Back story: Born in the urban sprawl of Cononet, on Corellia, Lysa had a life of relative peace and happiness before her, a life of good means. Lysa didn't like that, not one bit. She desired more from life than a peaceful existence on solid ground, even if the cost of such an exciting existence would be her sanity. She didn't just want a life like the ones she read in stories, she had the talent for it too. Even as a young teenager, Lysa helped her father with shipping manifests and docking logistics, though her reasons for doing so were hard to figure out. Until a few years later, when pieces were beginning to fall into place.

During those final years on Corellia, Lysa cultivated a stock of goods from a small gang of under-paid dockworkers who did a little "miscalculating" on export shipments, leaving some various materials in a dock warehouse for her to use. With these goods, she set up a small smuggling ring with a couple of crime bosses in the system, using the profit to expand her network of contacts abroad and pay her workers. As she expanded, she started to play the crime bosses against each other, making them think the other was hogging the bulk of the profits. Eventually, this came to a head, and the bosses started their own little war in the system, catching the attention of the authorities. In the short-lived chaos, Lysa split with whatever wasn't bolted down, leaving the Corellia System for good.

From then on, it's been the smuggler's life for Lysa, her "honesty" changing with the times. Using her contacts, whom she always pays and never screws over, she can set up shop wherever she likes, either moving supplies around bureaucratic red tape or putting one over on local gangs, who always think they're hot stuff. There have been times where she bit off more than she can chew, mainly when she thought she was good enough to mess with the Hutts...she wasn't. Luckily, she's still good at being several steps ahead of everyone else, so all she does is give Hutt space a wide berth.

Starting Location: Taris

Spoiler: Rewald Kepla

Name: Rewald Kepla

Species: Mandalorian

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Appearance: Has a crop-cut for his brown hair, matching his brown eyes. Also has a scar that runs from the top of his scalp, all the way down to the bottom left jawline, just missing the eye. In combat, or just to be intimidating, he wears his Mandalorian helmet to cover these features. His armor is full-bodied, with somewhat shiny chrome plating, with a bloody streak in the shape of a hand running across the right breast.

Profession: First Mate of the Tiberius

Skills: Master or arms, small to ship-bound, knows how to make any laser battery sing. Also built like a tank, with his armor nothing to snuff at either. The cost of this is...smarts. He's not dumb as a brick, but subtle hints and schemes of intrigue fly right over him.

Starting Equipment: BC7 medium carbine, with attached grenade launcher "Hellbringer", A280 blaster rifle "Masochist", medium (Mandalorian) armor, and a holographic comlink.

Back story: A Mandalorian with a warrior spirit, Rewald grew up in the times of the Mandalorian Civil War, where ideology made his own people tear each other apart. For a time, he tried to reconcile their ideals and pick a side, but he could not, so he struck out on his own. He offered his services to anyone willing to pay the price, becoming a mercenary that put an unusual enthusiasm in his work. He ran the gauntlet of merc jobs, from escorting a dignitary to fighting off boarding parties in the depths of space.

In the end, he found the profession of bounty hunting to be most rewarding, with the thrill of the chase being hard to beat. He spent the next few years, before and during the Clone Wars, chasing down various crooked people that the powers-that-be were too busy to catch. It was during this time that he caught word of Lysa Estor, who was on the run from the Hutts after a deal gone sour. Fortunately for Lysa, she found out that Rewald was after her, which she claims wasn't that hard to figure out. With the prey was aware of the predator, the two played cat-and-mouse all over the Outer Rim.

Eventually, and perhaps ironically, Rewald finally tracked Lysa down to the deserts of Tatooine, where she hid right under Jabba the Hutt's nose. However, Lysa was expecting the Mandalorian, and he fell right into her trap. After a fight that wrecked two cantinas and a docking port (where Rewald's ship just happened to be), Rewald found himself trapped under a pile of debris, too fatigued to get himself free. Lysa approached him then and made him an offer: she would free him, and give him a place on her crew, where he would be paid a share of any of her smuggling profits, in exchange for not turning her into the Hutts. Impressed by her skill, and not really having a choice in the matter, Rewald agreed. The two have become good friends since, stemming from the mutual respect their rivalry brewed.

Starting Location: Taris

Spoiler: Jak Harken

Name:Jak Harken

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Appearance: Scrappy little kid, about a half-foot too short for his age. Has black hair that is short and very messy, held up by a pair of welding goggles. His blue eyes contradict the rest of his face, still gleaming with a sort of innocence. Unless he's sleeping, he's wearing a orange maintenance jumpsuit, complete with several spark burns and oily smudges.

Profession: Force-sensitive Engineer of the Tiberius

Skills: Master when it comes to anything electronic or machine. Single-handedly keeps the freighter and all her droids working on the cheap. His connection to the force is a weak one, except when he's working. When asked how he thought some of his repairs would work, he can only respond with "Just a feeling".

Starting Equipment: Fusioncutter, several computer parts and spikes, holographic comlink, and his own personal astromech, R2-BT (nicknamed "Bart")

Back story: Born on Ord Mantell, Jak was surrounded by machines from the very second he popped out of his mother's womb. He was born to a couple that found themselves stuck on the ball of scrap metal, working at a cantina to pay the bills. This didn't stop Jak from learning, as he seemed to devour anything put in front of him, both literally and metaphorically. While this may have hinted at his potential in the Force, Ord Mantell was such a dump that no one ever bothered testing his abilities.

At just age 5, he found himself at the cantina where his parents worked, and accidentally broke a still. The owner as furious, and seemed just on the edge of firing his parent, when he suddenly looked back at Jak to see that the still was not only fixed, but working better than it did before. It was then that Jak's talent with machinery showed, and, on Ord Mantell, that could take you places. Just a few years later, he was working at the docks, proud to help support the the parents that did so much with so little, and not really aware of an child labor standards.

It was there, near the start of the Clone Wars, that Jak heard about a smuggler in need of a good mechanic. This put the then 14 year-old in contact with Lysa, who was a bit incredulous about a kid being able to fix up her ship, which had been heavily damaged outrunning Hutt Cartel forces. However, to her surprise, in just a few days time, with just a pile of scrap and spare parts, Jak was able to get her ship up and running again. So, Lysa made the boy an offer: join her and she could pay him his current monthly wage ten-fold for every job she could get done. Jak jumped at the chance to finally work on a starship, his dream ever since he started working on them. Since then, he's been traveling the stars on the Tiberius, sending home a good portion of his pay any time he can.

Starting Location: Taris

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Spoiler: Ria Tovarish

Name: Ria Tovarish

Species: Ubese

Gender: Female

Age: 38

Appearance: Under her armor, Ria appears to be an attractive Human female, standing about 1.7 meters tall and looking to weigh about 70 kilos, with coal-black hair cut at roughly neck height, dark green eyes, and ghostly pale skin. There are a number of small surgical scars on her neck, entry sites for cybernetic breathing and vocalizer implants, a few of which protrude visibly from ports on her neck. Even with these, outside of her armor she will wear a translucent breath mask for safety.

Her armor - which also serves as a protective exosuit and environment for her - is made of close-fitting dark blue plates over a form-fitting black bodyglove. The helmet seems vaguely animalistic, the front extended outwards almost like a snout, with a narrow, slit-like visor just above it. The snout of the helmet contains a number of devices - breathing filtration and sensors, mostly.

Profession: Bounty Hunter (Independent of the Guild)

Skills: Ria's been a solo bounty hunter for two decades, and worked in the field for most of her youth. As such, she's very good at most aspects of the Bounty Hunter's life - she's an expert marksman and hand to hand fighter, a shrewd negotiator, a clever planner, a respectable slicer, extremely stealthy, a skilled pilot, and above all else she's patient.

Starting Equipment: Pilot and sole crewman of gunship Stiletto. The Stiletto is a Baudo-Class Star Yacht modified to be more on a level with a warship, with a military-grade shield generator (essential parts scavenged from a CR90 corvette), doubled thruster banks, a power core ripped from a Hardcell-class Transport, upgraded sensors and communications hardware and software, and a sophisticated droid brain control circuit capable of directly controlling the ship, dubbed Mal. The ship has also had heavily enhanced weapons systems, the laser cannon turret upgraded to a quad reciprocating cannon, while four heavy turbolasers have been mounted on the ship's chin, along with a pair of launchers capable of fitting most standard ordnance, with a third launcher aft. These modifications give Stiletto the speed and maneuverability of a typical Baudo-class - which are known for being quick and speedy craft, almost on par with heavy starfighters - with the punch and toughness of a small corvette.

Aboard the Stiletto Ria keeps an arsenal of her equipment. Her standby weapon is a custom, modular weapon, designed to be quickly and easily modified or broken down on the go. Ria carries the necessary components with her allowing her to convert it from a short-barreled, stockless carbine to a stocked, long-barreled, scoped rifle and any position in between. The weapon also packs an underslung launcher attachment for grenades, flares, and other useful items, a replaceable main firing circuit allowing it to switch between an ion blaster and a standard blaster, and a typical stun/kill setting switch. Etched into the side of the main receiver is 'Blaster *****'.

Aside from her modular weapon, her arsenal contains everything from ACP Array Blasters to Slugthrowers to knives. Her collection of weapons and tools is extensive.

Back story: Thousands of years ago, the Ubese species were proud, arrogant, and newly powerful. The Republic, fearing the threat they posed, attempted to disarm them - and instead destroyed them. Radioactive firestorms from the powerful, unstable weapons of the Ubese desolated their worlds, even blasting their homeworld into a spray of rubble. In panic over their mistake, regional politicians deleted all data related to the Ubese people and their home system and hoped the problem would just go away.

Unfortunately for them, the Ubese people were not dead yet. A few sympathetic officials evacuated some of the few survivors to a safe world, while the remainders eked out an existence in the nightmarish hellscape that was what was left of their colonies. These two peoples would eventually reunite - although the Ubese who had been left behind had developed a considerable amount of resentment and even hate for their luckier brethren.

For centuries the Ubese would wander the stars, united by their hate for the Republic for wiping out their people and the Jedi for never aiding them, finding work on the lowest levels, as criminals, bounty hunters, assassins, smugglers.

Ria Tovarish is the most recent inheritor of this proud tradition, and has taken it to heart. Raised among the "Pure" Ubese, those who had been left behind, she spent her youth learning to fight, to kill, to take revenge. She learned every lesson her people had to offer, and she learned it well. At the age of fourteen she joined on with Rathe Covachs, leader of a small number of Ubese mercenaries, and would run with them for the next four years before striking out on her own as a bounty hunter.

She'd quickly develop a strong reputation, her professionalism and skill notable in a profession rife with extreme egos and incompetence. Six years ago she earned a reference to Mendel Baudo, as well as a large paycheck, all of which went into paying for Stiletto, her custom-built Baudo-Class Star Yacht.

Starting Location: Nar Shaddaa

Spoiler: Captain Savren Khaen

Name: Savren Khaen

Species: Kel Dor

Gender: Male

Age: 46

Appearance: A typical Kel Dor male - mottled orange skin, curled external sensory organs on either side of his head, and a rather disturbing opening in his face containing his nose and mouth. Most of his face is covered by a breathing mask, necessary to supply supplemental gasses, as Kel Dor are incapable of breathing the more common nitrogen-oxygen mix. His black eyes are likewise covered by goggles in atmospheres other than his home's. He wears the black uniform of a Republic Captain most times, without the cap.

Profession: Captain of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Liberation, traitor to the Empire.

Skills: Savren Khaen is a life-long military officer and has extensive knowledge of tactics and strategy, as well as being an inspiring leader. He knows most of the workings of his ship inside and out. Besides that, he is also a respectable albeit rusty starfighter pilot and a decent hand to hand combatant, despite his age.

Starting Equipment: The Liberation, a Venator-Class Star Destroyer. As a Venator, it is equipped with eight heavy dual turbolaser turrets, two medium dual turbolaser turrets, fifty-two point defense laser cannons, six tractor beam projectors, and four proton torpedo tubes. The ship's craft complement includes nine squadrons of Alpha-3 Nimbus V-Wings, three squadrons of ARC-170 Starfighters, six squadrons of Eta-2 Actis Interceptors, thirty-two LAAT/i gunships, and ten Kappa-Class Shuttlecraft. The Liberation's hull is scored with carbon scoring and slapdash hull repairs, but the ship remains mostly fully functional.

Back story: Born on Kel Dor, little needs to be said of his youth - it really isn't relevant. He joined the Republic Judicial Forces at the age of 20. Shortly after his enlistment, the Stark Hyperspace War broke out, and he was among those who fought in that conflict, flying an A-6 Interceptor against the forces of the Stark Commercial Combine, distinguishing himself in the Battles of Qotile. As the war came to an end a few months later, he was transferred to the Thunderchild, a light frigate patrolling the rim, engaging pirates and criminals.

He would serve for eight years on Thunderchild, going from flying a single starfighter to commanding the frigate's fighter squadron, before transferring at the age of 29 to Fleet Command and transferring off Thunderchild to the Bal Kora, a Consular-Class Cruiser, serving as the vessel's first officer. His career on Bal Kora would take a radical shift five years later, when the Captain, Lacrus Vath, was killed during a raid on a pirate base, a laser blast penetrating bridge shielding and destroying much of the vessel's command crew - by luck, Savren was handling a situation on lower decks at the time. He took command from the secondary bridge and finished wiping out the pirates. As Khaen was already on the route to direct command, it was decided that his temporary command would be made official.

For the next eight years he would serve in this position, dealing with pirates, raiders, and other assorted scum until the breakout of the Clone Wars, where it quickly became apparent that Bal Kora was outmatched by the CIS' firepower. While he served in a number of early actions, it was soon declared that Bal Kora would be decommissioned, and he would be reassigned to a new vessel - the Liberation, a Venator-Class Star Destroyer.

From the bridge of the Liberation, he fought in the rest of the Clone Wars, until six months ago when it came to an abrupt end with the declaration of the New Order and the Jedi as traitors. A mutiny took place aboard Liberation, as Palpatine loyalists and Clone troopers fought Republic loyalists for control of the ship - a battle that came to an end when Savren pulled Republic loyalists back from the battle into the heart of the ship before opening all airlocks in clone-controlled portions of the ship.

Undercrewed and damaged, the Liberation has been fighting a guerrilla war against the Empire for the past six months, and it is beginning to take a toll.

Starting Location: Deep Space, between Bimmisaari and Boz Pity, aboard Liberation.

Spoiler: Alara Kovaris, Darth Eris

Name: Alara Kovaris, Darth Eris

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 30

Appearance: Tall and willowy - 1.8 meters and roughly 70 kilos - with long red hair that hangs free, dark green eyes that turn a sulfurous yellow when she is fully immersed in the Dark Side. Eris eschews the traditional clothing of both Jedi and Sith, favoring subtle civilian clothing, most often wearing a black bodyglove with a crimson hooded cloak. A gray belt circles her waist, holding a few essentials - comlink, a stimpack, credcoins and credsticks, and a number of false IDs.

Profession: Dark Jedi, self-styled Sith Lord

Skills: Expert Lightsaber duelist, favoring Form II Makashi. She has little interest in the use of the Force in direct combat, instead utilizing her skill in the Force to counter her opponent's use of it, forcing them to engage her blade to blade. Her greatest skill with the Force is her ability to hide her presence - as long as she does not directly use the Force, such as to use telekinesis, and instead only passively listens to it, it is effectively impossible to detect her presence in the Force. She could be sitting right next to you and even a powerful Jedi would not recognize the dark presence.

Starting Equipment: Her lightsaber. It's not a particularly unusual design - an unpainted metallic cylinder with a rubber grip near the head. When activated, it is a single blue blade. Besides that, she owns an Aka'jor Class Shuttle, which as yet is unmodified. Aboard her shuttle she keeps a trove of Jedi and Sith artifacts - primarily writings and datacards. She carries little else as far as equipment.

Back story: For centuries the Force has been strong in the Kovaris family, producing roughly one Jedi every generation. It has become family tradition to have their children tested, and to willingly - if not gladly - give them up to the Temple. So it was for Alara, she was given to the Temple at six months of age - she's never met her family, doesn't even know their names beyond that they share a surname.

As she grew, Alara proved to be in many ways the ideal Jedi - scholarly, stoic, and driven. She absorbed knowledge like a sponge. At the age of ten she was selected by Master Aven Kolath to become his Padawan. Master Kolath was not a warrior or an adventurer like so many of the more well-known Jedi. His power with the Force was middling and his skill with the lightsaber was negligible, but he made up for it with boundless enthusiasm, endless determination, and enough cunning to cheat a Hutt in his own gambling den and get away clean. Kolath's real area of expertise was archaeology and negotiation, which came together more often than one might think.

For most of her career as a Padawan, Alara was at one dig site or another, unearthing ancient artifacts - of the ancient Republic, of Empires long gone. Once, however, they uncovered something much darker. Seven years into her apprenticeship the two were exploring a ruin on Bpfassh, uncovered near the Jedi Praxeum on that world. The two of them split up to explore the ruins, neither sensing any danger. Alara entered a chamber and discovered a spherical object lying on a podium. When she touched it, the device activated, revealing itself to be a Holocron. The dark powers within that holocron assaulted Alara's mind, exposing her to the full power of the Dark Side.

Kolath sensed the dark presence and rushed to her aid, disabling the device the old fashioned way - direct application of a lightsaber. After the device was deactivated, Alara lost consciousness.

When Alara awoke, she was back on Coruscant, in the care of the Temple. While she had been exposed to the power of the Dark Side, she had emerged without being tainted by it - at least to their eyes, moreover deeming it to be a suitable Trial of both Flesh and Spirit - she had faced both tremendous pain and the full unveiled power of the Dark Side and survived with mind intact.

Despite their faith in her, in truth Alara's soul was darkened by the event. While she did not fall - not yet - she had been awakened to both the real evil and the incomprehensible power of the Dark Side, and an ugly, buried part of her awakened - she saw power and she wanted it. Despite this, she would resist these feelings, and four years later would undertake the remainder of her trials - that of Skill, Courage, and Insight - and passed them all, albeit with great struggle, and finally completing her path to becoming a Jedi when she constructed her lightsaber, becoming Alara Kovaris, Jedi Knight.

Her exposure to the Dark Side had altered her in other ways - she began refocusing her training away from the purely scholarly, learning how to use the raw power she had at her command, and studying the lightsaber forms in greater detail, moving away from the simplicity of Shii-Cho and Niman to a style better suited to her mindset, the elegant Makashi. She sought means to protect herself from that dark power she had faced, and learned to conceal herself within the Force and counter it when used against her.

After her elevation to Knight, she worked to protect the galaxy - a hunt for criminals here, a diplomatic mission there, an archaeological site there. Archaeology remained her true passion, but she began to move beyond pure academic curiosity, focusing on Jedi and Sith sites, uncovering stores of knowledge and absorbing, only passing some on to the Order, telling herself she wanted to study them further before handing them off, but often never giving up her artifacts.

Her slow seduction would accelerate as the Clone Wars broke out and for the first time she was exposed to combat and death on a massive scale, the cries of the dead and the echoes of their deaths in the Force awakening the whispers of the dark Holocron in her mind, only made worse when a number of Bpfasshi Jedi fell to the Dark Side and joined the CIS, forcing her to return to that world she hated and feared, pursuing one of the fallen Jedi into the same ruins. She thought she was facing her fear.

Fear wasn't the danger she was facing.

In those ruins, the whispers of the Dark Side seemed deafening, as though the darkness within these ruins had awoken when she had opened the holocron twelve years ago, and as she did battle with the Dark Jedi she felt it clawing for her soul. And in a moment of weakness, as her foot slipped and her blade slid out of her hands, she reached out for the dark power to save her own life, applying the teachings of the Sith writings to the dark power in the ruins.

The Dark Jedi never saw it coming as lightning coursed into his body, burning him from the inside out.

With the dark power now coursing through her, she embraced it. This was her real path. This was her destiny. She dubbed herself Darth Eris in the style of the ancient Sith Lords.

She departed soon after. Only a scant few months later Order 66 was given. She's spent the time since then continuing her hunt for writings of the ancient Sith and Jedi, gathering artifacts, gathering power.

Starting Location: Korriban

 

[sage42]

Spoiler: Mira Quee

Name: Mira Quee

Species: Togruta

Gender: Female

Age: 29

Appearance: 1.7 meters(roughly 5'9"-5'11" Don't know the actually conversion.) She has yellow pigmented skin with the montrals(the curved horns) making up the last 6 inches of her height. Three lekku, two extending in front to just reach her stomach, one in the back extending to the middle of her back. Both the Montrals and the lekku are striped black from tip to tip. She has a white stripe along her eyes and 3 more down each cheek.

Profession: Jedi Knight

Skills: Jedi training with a focus on the Niman combat form, allowing her to focus on the study of history and diplomacy.

Starting Equipment: Yellow lightsaber strapped to the inside of her vest. A set of Jedi robes she keeps in a pack. A fur over vest, leather shirt and pants, with no boots. Earings made from the teeth of her first kill. 300 credits.

Back story: Mira was born on Shili to a pair of hunters who trained her in their ways. From a young age, Mira could always feel there was something more around her. She didn't know what until sometime after her first hunt. At age five she was taken her first hunt, tracking a slaying a ferocious Akul. The hunt lasted a number of days and she watched and learned as her clan tracked the beast. She stayed back when they finally found the beast. She watched in stunned silence as The Akul fought, nearly cleaving the hunter in two with it's powerful jaws. When it was on it's last legs, her mother handed her a knife and she made the final strike, killing the beast. Her life as a hunter was short lived however; after a visiting Jedi master, A human jedi by the name of Gwen Yolee, revealed she was force sensitive. While her family and tribe were sad to see her go they knew the Jedi would not let a force sensitive go untrained. So after a tearful good by to her tribe, she left for the temple on Coruscant.

Her training was long, and difficult. Mira had been raised in a fighting mindset, hunt down your enemies, and slay them before they can be trouble. This was far different from the Jedi way of peace. She often struggled with this trying to over come what nature had drilled into her species. But after 18 years of training, 8 as an apprentice and 10 as a padawan to Master Yolee she over came her nature. for the next 6 years a a Jedi Knight Mira would fight for the Jedi against the Separatists. She careful in her fighting mixing her old hunting instincts with her Jedi training.

She was on Krios with Master Yolee when Order 66 was passed. The Squad of Troopers that had accompanied them to fight the entrenched separatists killed Master Yolee before she had a chance to defend her self. Mira, with her enhanced connection to the force through her montrals sensed the sudden hostilities was able to flee before she could be killed though not before being wounded. She was able to flee to a nearby village wear the locals treated her wounds.

Nearly six months later, she has blended in with the locals. She knows she is being hunted, ironic in her eyes. The Villagrs know this as well. Fearing for what the newly founded empire might do to their small village, they have asked her to leave, supplying her with enough Credits to buy a shuttle off planet.

Starting Location: Krios, Expansion Region.(Couldn't find it on the map but it was around during the clone wars, The wiki says it's somewhere in the expansion Region. I'm gonna put it along route 5, probably south of Corsin, if some one finds it let me know and I'll remove this.)

Spoiler: Saalia

Name: Saalia Knoses

Species: Cyborg

Gender: Female

Age: 32

Appearance: Saalia stand at 5'11" and weighs about 130 lbs. She wears a coat the reaches to just past her waist over simple cloths. She has shoulder length black hair that hangs over the left side of her face to conceal the cybernetic eye beneath. She also wears a black leather glove on her right hand to conceal the cybernetic hand. Her cybernetic eye glows blue while her remaining eye is a dark brown.

Profession: Smuggler

Skills: Saalia is skilled with the blasters she keeps at her side and in her coat. She can pilot smaller ships such as her freighter, The Rouge and has some experience as a mechanic, for both ships and droids.

Starting Equipment: Two heavy blaster pistols, two holdout blasters, and a knife tucked into the top of her boot.

Back story: Saalia was born on Nar Shadaa in 52 BBY. Due to the pollution of the planet, and her mother's dependency on spice, had caused her left eye to be underdeveloped. For the first few years of her life, while her mother worked as a dancer for a local Hutt, and her father as a dockworker, She had to mainly take care of herself. She grew up quickly learning how to survive in one of the worst places in the galaxy.

During her teenage years she took to breaking into warehouses on bet's and stealing anything her opponent asked for. Eventually, she started doing it for just straight up credits, usually for who ever wanted something from a warehouse or docked ship who's owner wouldn't sell. During one failed attempt, the owner a Rhodan, had decided a thief would get a thieves punishment a cut off her right hand. After all her work, she had enough saved up to afford cybernetic parts, for her eyes and hand, as well as a few other parts of her body, mostly internal organs to keep her healthy. This was 30 BBY

Withing the next two years she began to save more and more, taking on jobs from those with more credits among Nar Shadaa, including one Goma the Hutt, which she had her steal blueprints for a new droid model. She succeeded and was paid handsomely.

After a few more years in 25 BBY She was able to purchase The Rouge as well as an Astromech droid to help running the ship with the designation R6-O9. When the war started she started taking more jobs from Republic Senetors mostly to help with the war effort, bringing supplies in to refugees, or to encampments of Clone troopers. Occasionally they would ask for some art piece or shipment of sand. One or twice even to take plans to the Separatists, Saalia did them all and earned herself quite the reputation. When the republic fell so did her reputation among the hire-ups, she fled The Core worlds and has spent the past six months among the outer rim, she has now begun to venture further in. And has stopped on Kiros to pick up an art piece for a Noble on Taris.

Starting Location: Kiros, Artisan Colony.

 

[Soviet Heavy]

Spoiler: Nyrial

Name: Nyrial

Species: Mirialan (Near-Human)

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Appearance: Will be up soon. Have to draw it first. Until then, check out Mirialans on the Wook for an idea.

Profession: Package courier, Hutt Cartel, Besadii Clan

Skills: Discretion and seduction. Can avoid detection which makes her ideal for running packages across Nar Shaddaa and other regions. When it comes to tricky customs officers, Niryal can throw on the "exotic persuasion" routine to get what she wants.

While she carries a blaster, she's not a fighter at heart, preferring to sneak around fights. She relies on her knowledge of the Nar Shaddaa streets and thoroughfares to avoid detection, often making detours via climbing, jumping and extensive parkour techniques.

Starting Equipment: Second hand DC-15S Blaster Carbine. Rebel Battle Armor [http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rebel_battle_armor], multiple tripwire grenades and one class A Thermal Detonator.

Starting Location: Nar Shaddaa,the Smuggler's Moon, Y'Toub System, Hutt Space

Background: Born on the streets of Nar Shaddaa to a Human Spacer and her ailing Mirialan mother, Nyrial never knew her father. The effects of the Clone War on the greater galaxy did little to sway the lifestyles of the impoverished and destitute roaming the Smuggler's moon. After her mother died, Nyrial was left on her own, scraping by through pickpocketing and petty theft. Luck was often on her side, but one day, it dried up.

Nyrial made the mistake of trying to steal from a member of the Cartel. Her actions were rewarded with her being sold into slavery for the Hutt Besadii Clan. This imprisonment was short lived; within a month of her capture, Nyrial had escaped back into the underworld. But she had not gone unnoticed. Impressed with her talents, the Cartel approached her again, this time offering her a job.

At first skeptical, Nyrial chose the proposal of credits and amnesty over running. She soon became an accomplished package courier, running odd jobs for the Besadii Clan. It was easy work, bypass the new Imperial tariffs and get the box to the client without being noticed. She didn't ask and they didn't answer as to what the packages were, which suited Nyrial just fine.

But times were changing. The Imperials were becoming increasingly common on the Smuggler's Moon, and the galaxy at large was undergoing a major upheaval. Only time would tell before the shifting strands of fate would entangle Nyrial in the proceedings at large.

Having grown up on her own, Nyrial has a hard time trusting others. Anyone alone on Nar Shaddaa is a target, and anyone willing to help is either looking for a return favor or waiting to pounce on a gullible mark. Nyrial' quickly developed a silver tongue to turn these weaknesses into strengths. When credits change hands, honeyed words can catch a bigger pot.

 

[TheBlueShotgun0]

Spoiler: Ian Galam

Name: Ian Galam

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Appearance: Ian wears his brown hair short and has green eyes perched atop his 6' body. His causal attire consists of a t-skirt and pair of jeans under a leather jacket. He tries to remain as clean as possible, but that's not always easy for a man on the run.

Profession: Sargent and unofficial First Officer of the 23rd Volunteer Swoop Regiment, Combat Swoop Pilot.

Skills: Speeder bike pilot, mechanic, and small arms. He's had an affinity with swoops from a young age, and being an outlaw forces you to learn how to use a gun.

Starting Equipment: BARC speeder bike, BC434 Blaster Pistol, DC17m Blaster Carbine, leather jacket, 300 credits.

Back story: Ian Galam was born to a farmer's family on Teardrop in 42 BBY. As a child, Ian worked on his parent's farm to help support the family. When he was 8, he found a broken and battered speeder bike in the local scrap shop. The owner let him buy it for a handful of credits, and Ian set about fixing the bike. Every day after work, he would walk into his garage to tinker with the bike and not come out until the next morning. When Ian finally got the bike running again, he showed it off to his friends who suggested he enter a race. He did, and managed to place in the top three. The other, much older racers chalked it up to beginners luck, but they soon had to recognize Ian's skill as he started winning race after race. He used the money he earned to buy better bikes and improve the ones he had. By his 16th birthday, Ian was known as one of the best swoop racers on Teardrop.

Despite this fame, Ian wanted nothing more than to get off Teardrop and see the galaxy beyond. An opportunity came when the Clone Wars broke out. A wealth Zeltron from Herdessa arrived, searching for volunteers to help defend his world. Upon hearing the news, Ian jumped at the chance to see a new world and enlisted immediately. At 20 years old, Ian Galam left his home world for the first time.

Ian's ship, carrying the rest of the volunteer group, came out of hyperspace in the middle of the First Battle of Herdessa. The ship touched down immediately and the troops aboard, including Ian, were ordered into battle. Ian hide behind a slab of rock as his comrades were pounded by Confederate artillery; the Republic was losing, and badly. But when he spotted a discarded BARC speeder, Ian saw his chance. He mounted the unfamiliar bike and charged into the CIS line. With the clones and planetary guards covering him, he broke through the droid's line and disabled several anti-air and artillery positions. This gave the Republic air support the opening it needed, and the next few hours saw the CIS's demise. A wounded Ian was decorated by the Republic for his actions. He went on to form the 23rd Volunteer Swoop Regiment, one of the most decorated volunteer units of the war. The heroics of the 23rd VSR saved the planet from Confederate control on several occasions and earned the respect and admiration of Herdessa's population many times over.

When Palpatine formed the Galactic Empire and killed off the Jedi, Ian felt betrayed by the "democracy" he had risked so much to defend. He was quick to join a resistance movement on Herdessa, but with in months they had to face the fact that the Empire would take control of the planet one way or another. The resistance organised an evacuation, and the men and women of the 23rd VSR were forced to abandon the world they had come to call home.

Once out of reach of the Empire, members of the organization drifted apart and went their separate ways. Ian has headed into Hutt Space in an attempt to evade the Empire. So far, he's made it up the Kaaga Run to the Circumtore system. He's not quite sure were to go from there, but he knows he's never going back to the Empire.

Starting Location: Circumtore Space Station

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

Spoiler: Character Sheet - John Tarmikos

Name: John Tarmikos
Username: DS68

Species: Echani
Gender: Male
Age: 23 years old

Appearance: 6'0," with short silver hair and fair skin that would speak of a void born. Silver Eyes. Average weight with a strong build. He wears a void suit with a suit of plasteel armour over it, and a traditional Mandalorian T-slit helm has replaced the void suit's helmet. It has had a Mando Iron Chainlink Kama, as well as a Mando iron pauldron added for extra protection.

Profession: Force Sensitive Privateer
Skills: Excellent Slicer and an Experienced Raider, he has had to fight Dark Jedi so he has taken the time to develop his skills with the blade. His untrained and and almost completely untapped force abilities currently come in the form of gut feelings, an increased reaction time, enhanced reflexes, and improved dexterity. Incredibly clever and has a keen understanding of ship systems and architecture.

Starting Equipment: An Echani vibrosword (modified with an Ostrine Edge, a heavily enhanced energy cell, and a basket hilt), an Arkanian heavy blaster pistol, a Verpine shatter gun based on a Trandosian ACPAG design, a few thermal detonators, and slicer equipment.

I wouldn't exactly call it equipment, considering he doesn't own it but he is a crewman on the Raptorian a small and incredibly quick Mandalorian frigate.

Background: John was born on a generation ship, that was part of a long standing fleet of them, run by a clan of void Mandalorians. After the execution of order 66 the fleet was ordered to submit to inquisition because of the belief that Jedi were living amongst them. The fleet refused out of pride, and was almost decimated. A few of the smaller craft in the flotilla survived, John at the time was on one of them. The few survivors decided to band together living a life of piracy, doing as much damage to the empire as possible while trying to eke out a living. The new fleet has recently taken a few casualties in terms of ships, and even more in terms of people. They've reached a point where it may end with them going fully mercenary out of desperation.

Starting Location: Nar Shaddaa

 

[The Funslinger]

The crowd roared as the participants, species of all kinds, walked out onto the sand. The arena was huge, and could have comfortably held hundreds with room to run around. There were only one hundred present. The ground wasn't flat, but undulated in a series of rises, with the largest being a small hill in the very center of the arena.

Dotted along the walls were numerous weapons. Dran could immediately tell, there weren't quite enough to go around. A good handful of fighters would be left unarmed. The first minutes would be a ferocious race and melee to get armed.

He hadn't asked for this. No ship, very little money for food, and having to seek shelter beds at a local hostel, he and Meera were actively seeking work. Anything to set them on their way again. They had traveled around the city during the day, looking for any jobs, and also keeping a sharp eye for any bounty announcements. Huge as it was, Ylisia's capitol's grand arena had ever loomed in their vision. Yet, most days it was quiet. On some, small bouts were hosted, which attracted healthy enough attendance. Dran had stored his lightsaber, intact, but non-functional after being damaged by a stray blaster bolt in the Jedi Temple, in his bag. There was secure storage for people's belongings, and each bag was assigned a ticket. This prevented theft. However, he had not counted on the hostel's benefactor being a local spicelord, running it as a side business. Their belongings had been rifled through, and the saber had been found. The spice lord, a Nemoidian named Lat Remmo, had used it as blackmail, threatening to turn them into the Empire. His proposition: He would front Dran's entry fee, as did many who put slaves into the fight, and Dran would enter the annual grand melee. Being a Jedi would give him intrinsic advantage, and the prize money, 100,000 galactic credits, was huge. The money, 50,000 would go to Dran and Meera, and the other half to the Nemoidian, who Dran suspected was also placing high stakes wagers on him.

So, here he was. According to instruction, he and the other ninety nine ringed the central hill. The crowd was vast, though his attuned senses picked out Meera in the crowd. Her event issued view screen pinned to her chest as she watched the arena itself with nerves. The view screens could be used to track individual participants, or tune onto the 'selected' feed, run by the commentary.

The start horn blasted. Storms of men headed for the walls. Dran thought for a brief moment, then turned and made his way to the top of the hill. The high ground. 'And number seventy two, contestant Lan Toto, has taken a controversial decision to forgo taking a weapon!' The commentary boomed. He'd convinced Rimmo to enter him under a fake name. At the edges of the arena, the other gladiators fought viciously over blades, spears, clubs and an assortment of other close combat weapons. Some managed to grab them outright, and sprinted towards the center of the arena. After a weapon, high ground was the priority. Hearing the soft sound of footsteps behind him, Dran vaulted onto his hands, bringing up his booted foot into a momentous kick. He felt the crack of ribs, heard the grunt and then felt the disappearance of resistance as whoever had attacked him was pitched back down the hill. Already, the walls were picked clean and a dozen or so fighters lay dead or incapacitated.

 

[EmperorZuma]

Lysa and Rewald walked along a platform in the Taris Upper City, just leaving from a meeting with one of Lysa's contacts. The Tiberius' mission to Taris was one of personal favor, and little profit, as her contact required a shipment of "basic materials", to cope with the planet's current supply problems. The meeting itself was rather uneventful, and only a token amount of credits were paid.

As the pair neared a tower they had to pass through, Rewald noticed a sign that pointed to a cantina inside. "Mind if we grab a drink before getting back? We should talk."

Lysa looked back to gauge Rewald's intent, surprised to see he looked much more serious than she expected. "Fine, the boys can hold the fort down a while longer."

With a nod, she led the way into the bar, ordering a light drink before taking a seat by Rewald, who had chosen a table isolated from the rest of the cantina's patrons. "I'm getting tired of this charity work. We've become nothing more than shady-looking couriers, running about the galaxy keeping all your 'friends' happy."

Lysa nodded as she took a sip from her drink, feeling a gentle warmth run through her veins. "I'll admit, work has been boring lately, but we don't exactly have much choice."

Rewald snorted as he looked towards the band, who were playing a repetitive tune. "Is it 'cause our cargo is too hot?" He leaned in closer to make sure only Lysa could hear. "We could just turn him in, I hear his kind bring a good price."

Lysa squinted as she gave a light push to make Rewald back away. "Heard from whom? I thought I told you to stop listening to those scabs you used to call 'sources'." Catching a look of guilt flashing across the Mandalorian's face, Lysa confirmed her suspicions, smiling a bit at Rewald's poor attempt at subtlety. "Regardless of what you hear, we would simply become a target of a double-cross if tried to hand Tiren over. Because, why get something for a price when you can get it for free?" The captain let Rewald think on that for a moment before continuing. "As for our tour of ferrying around supplies for almost nothing, blame the newly-christened Galactic Empire. They've been putting more effort in quelling rebellions and hunting Jedi than keeping the worlds in their dominion well-fed."

"Maybe, but you're the one who's picking all these jobs over some good, credit-makin', gun-running."

"True, but unlike the Empire, I know how to keep my house in order. Instead of jumping out into this whole quagmire, selling weapons to the highest bidder, I'm keeping my people happy. When they're happy, they're less likely to leave me for better business, or competition, and more likely to net me some good pay later on." Lysa held out her hands to demonstrate a scale, holding one hand much lower than the other. "Long-term investment is always better than short-term gain." Taking one last sip, she looked up at Rewald to see that she had thoroughly taxed his attention, his eyes staring off into the distance. So, she stood up, placing a few credits on the table. "Come on, let's get back to the ship, I promise the next job won't be such a bore." With the tease enough to bring the warrior back to the present, the pair left the cantina.
----------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, aboard the Tiberius, Jak was busy tinkering in the cargo bay, trying to fix a deactivated Labor Droid that had broken down when they unloaded their cargo. With his astromech, Bart, busy cutting away at several panels so Jak could diagnose the problem. "I'm pretty sure it's either one of the servos in the claws, or a motor at the knee, nothing else would've made it freeze up like that."

Bart gave a few beeps in response, a long with a recognizable groan of dissension. "No, I know it's not the motivator, because I replaced that back on Onderon. Just open up those covers, will you? I want this to be fixed by the time the 'Cap comes back." Bart gave an affirmative beep as it started to cut away the cover on one of the droid's knees.

As Jak waited, he moved away from his project, and approached Tiren, who Jak had just noticed appear in the hold. "Hey, you sure vanished when we got here. Look what you made poor'old Trax break covering for you." He spoke in an obvious jesting tone, something he usually did to lighten the mood whenever the Jedi was near.

"Apologies..." Tiren sat cross-legged on the floor of the mostly-empty hold, his tone reflecting that the joke had been lost on him, again. "...I did not want to draw unwanted attention from the dock workers. I decided it was best to wait inside my cabin until the work was done."

As Tiren began his meditation, Jak could feel a...power...that radiated off him. It felt so mystic and grand that the boy had to sit a few feet away from Tiren to not be overwhelmed by the strange feeling. "Ah...well, it's okay, the old workhorse has seen worse. Got plenty of new parts after Max shorted out." Jak scratched the side of his neck as Tiren turned his head to face him, letting an awkward silence hang between them.

"Tell me, Jak, why do you name all the droids on the ship?" Tiren could "see" the Force that flowed through Jak, a weak glow representing a yet-untapped connection. To protect him, Tiren never mentioned what he saw in the boy, not even to Lysa, though he thought that someone like her could guess at Jak's sensitivity.

"Oh, uh...I just do. Feels like I can...understand them better if I make a personal connection with them." Jak could feel that Tiren was trying to pick something out of him, and it made him feel a little uncomfortable. To break the stare, he looked back at Bart, still busy cutting into the thick covers of "Trax's" knees.

"Doesn't that mean it hurts you when one of them needs to be taken apart?" Tiren could remember when the other Labor Droid, Max, broke to the point where it was easier to use his parts to fix the other droids then to try and fix Max itself. He could feel that it wounded Jak, but to what degree, he did not know.

"Well, it does, for a while, but you could say that with anyone that loses a sentimental object. I guess, for me, it's like losing a pet." A loud beep echoed about the hold, showing that Bart was listening in on their conversation. "All right, okay, a good friend."

"Interesting..." Tiren nodded as he returned to his meditation, making Jak shy further away. "...seeing your capabilities with machines, I guess it isn't prudent of me to question your method. My apologies for disturbing you."

Jak stood back up and started to back off, towards Trax, a bit flustered. "No, that's, uh, fine. I'm the one who disrupted you...so, I guess I'll just be...over here." Shaking his head as he got back to Trax, looking at its uncovered motors, Jak was a bit disappointed. I don't think I'll ever understand the Jedi, let alone Tiren.

 

[sage42]

Mira walked through the streets of Artisan Colony. It was a wonder, to see a society dedicated to art and beauty rather than politics or warfare. Statues in every square, musicians on every corner, wondrous murals sprawled on the sides of buildings. Truly a city of beauty. Sadly Mira knew this wasn't to last. Already she could see the empire starting to sink it's claws into the city. Troopers were mingled in with the crowd, one or two here and there. Not enough to show a proper foothold, but enough to show a presence. She needed to get off planet, somewhere where she would be harder to find. After watching her old master getting gunned down by whom they though to be allies, she knew they would stop at nothing to find her.

She needed to find someone, anyone, to take her off planet. Somewhere crowded, Taris, Telos, Nar Shadaa. These were her top choices, they were hubs of trade and commerce. Places where she could be lost among the sea of bodies. Now the task was getting to one of them. So she was making a direct beeline for the spaceport. Hopefully someone was on their way to one of her choices. She squared her shoulders and hurried her pace, her bare feet making soft taps on the ground as she walked.

As she neared the spaceport she noticed a small crowd gather outside the entrance. She was able to push her way towards the front to find the cause. Five troopers were running checks on all citizens trying to make it off planet, no doubt searching for Jedi. They pulled two Togruta aside into two small outposts. After a few minutes the Togruta came back out looking disheveled and grumbling. Strip searches then. This could work in her favor though. She made her way to the front of the crowd, finally one trooper turned to her.

"Name?" The Trooper asked, His white helmet masking his face.

"Gwen Sulik" Mira replied instantly. She had figured she would need a alias, her old masters first name and a random surname seamed like the best at the time.

The trooper nodded as he turned to another who typed it into a holopad. "Destination?"

"Taris." She had hopped to make it to Taris first, simply because a poor Togruta would fit in with the other poor "aliens" As the human citizens put it would fit in better than many other places.

Once again the 2nd trooper typed into the pad. "Alright, into the hut we need to search you and you belongings." The First trooper demanded as he led her into the small shed, the 2nd right behind her. As they entered the small room the 2nd trooper took her bag and the first directed her against the wall.

"Alright ma'am down to the skivvies, need to check everything. You check out, you can go through." He said as the other began to rifle through her bag.

"Actually, I have a better idea." Mira said calmly. The other head jerked up when she said this. Good, made things easier. Mira waved her hand nudging the Force to move through their minds. "You have searched me and found nothing, you will let me through without trouble." She suggested as the troopers went rigid for a moment as the force wove it's way through their minds carrying her orders.

"We... have searched you and found nothing.we will let you through with out trouble." They both said in unison. The Trooper hand her bag back. She took a few minutes to adjust her cloths to make it look believable and walked out followed by the troopers. She walked through the gates and when she was out of sight she leaned against the wall and let out a tired sigh. That was harder than it should have been. She took a minute to regain her strength then stood away from the wall. Now it was time to find a ride.

 

[The Funslinger]

Various small fights had broken out across the battlefield, but a good number were still coming after the high ground. Others were using the smaller rises to similar ends. While Dran was grappling with two unarmed fighters, a Dug and a Zabrak who seemed to have briefly allied against him after seeing him pitch several fighters off the hill, despite being unarmed.

There were several weapons littered at its base now, but he couldn't use the force to summon one without giving himself away. To go undetected as a Jedi in this fight, he could only use it to enhance his physical abilities. Catching the Zabrak's wrist from his heavy right cross, Dran sank a force augmented punch into the joint of his elbow, causing a large snap, and shoved him back down the slope. This opened up the Dug's path for a two pronged kick. Dran caught his feet, and swung him round, sending him careening through the air. The Dug landed several feet away from the hill, dazed. Dran sensed a particularly aggressive presence, and turned as a large, muscular Trandoshan barreled up the hill. The gladiator was wielding a vibro-weapon that was somewhere between a sword and a cleaver.

Dran ducked the first slash and kicked out one of his opponent's legs. The Trandoshan buckled, and Dran took hold of his fist. He applied the Force, and the alien's grip broke. His own hand closed around the grip, and he planted a boot in the creature's sternum. Now he had a weapon, he had increased fighting potential, but less leeway to dispatch opponents none lethally. The idea left him ambivalent, but he had to keep going.

The commentator's voice cut across the air. 'According to our participant's tracker anklets, forty have been killed or incapacitated! And by my estimate, that rather plucky man on the central hill is responsible for nearly half of that. All of them unconscious, not dead. But now, our crowd favorite has a weapon. OH! That's gotta hurt!'

That in response to Dran dodging a dagger thrust from a human combatant, and severing his arm at the wrist, before kicking him off the hill. Now he had a sword, his saber training was taking over. The commentator continued on his rant 'With that sword, it looks like this bearded newcomer is nigh on unstoppable--oh! Perhaps I spoke too soon, folks. Looks like Arena Champion, Welawak the Wookie is making a beeline straight for him! Not to mention that crowd!

A dozen or so people were storming the hill, arriving at incrementally different times. Dran delved into his Shien training initially, although he had to compensate for the fact he wasn't to use the force in anything but an augmenting capacity, and the fact he wasn't using a lightsaber.

He changed to a Soresu stance. All Jedi were grounded in various saber forms throughout their education, particularly Soresu, and in order to master Shien and Djem So as he had, one had to become very skilled with Soresu. His web of defence was thick, and the gladiators trying to break through were savagely wounded. Around him, attackers fell, the majority clearly possessing no formal training. Saber combat was his forte, and though he knew he was quite a way off, he had entertained the idea of succeeding Master Drallig as the Temple's leading sword fighting master, and many had encouraged him to that goal. That was before the Order fell.

In areas other than the hill, battles raged, and the commentator crowed that there were only twenty fighters left standing. The last of the dozen fell, and Dran exhaled. Then a bestial roar made him turn and the electrostaff caught him in the sternum. For a few seconds, he was in spasms at its tip, then the Wookie broke the circuit it made in Dran's body in a rather ingenious maneuver, and Dran was catapulted off the hill. He sailed through the air, arcing through an exaggerated back flip, half out of will and half out of momentum. He landed on his feet, but the disorientating effect of the electricity stumbled him, and he fell. Somewhere in his flight, the sword had fallen from his hand.

Rather than replace him atop the hill, Welawak advanced towards him. Dran got to his feet, and took in the towering Wookie. He held an electrostaff in his shaggy hands, and had two single hand vibro-axes shoved through a belt on his waist. Blood matted his fur from numerous kills. In fact, near the hill, Dran could make out a corpse with both its arms pulled off. Glancing around for a weapon, he found a staff with barbed blades on both ends. Metal all the way, with no insulation. Against that staff, he'd have to be careful not to catch the electrified ends.

The Wookie sprinted forwards, and throwing off his daze, Dran responded in kind. They met in a flurry of staffs, the clangs ringing across the arena. The audience burst into cheering and jeering, all mixed up in the sheer size of the crowds. The Wookie was surprisingly agile for his size. Eventually, with a force enhanced strike, Dran cleaved through the middle of the electrostaff, and its ends fizzed out. Welawak had the vibroaxes out in a second, but too late to avoid a gash across his belly that bled thickly. He responded with a barrage of slashes, their edges humming past Dran's head as he dodged. The staff was too flimsy to block the brutal ax heads with. He could reinforce it, but channeling the force through metals that weren't designed for it was more difficult, and Dran was beginning to tire.

Then, the Wookie began to slow. His swipes were more clumsy. Dran noticed his blood was coming out a lot less thickly. In fact, huge slicks of it patterned the sand. He took an opening, hooking the end of his staff under the head of an ax, ignoring the tremors as the sonic vibrations channeled into his own weapon, and yanked the ax from the Wookie's grip. Then he lashed out, burying the barbed head in the Wookie's neck. When he pulled it free, more blood came from the new wound, and Dran walked away grimacing as the Wookie stumbled after him. He thought sadly to himself that Welewak would soon die. And eventually, the Wookie collapsed, and Dran was left to deal with the remaining fighters, five of whom remained. Dropping his staff, he incapacitated, rather than killed as he pursued them, hoping to balance out the necessary killing.

Eventually, the commentator was declaring that he, "Lan Toto", was the victor. He turned, taking in all the crowds as they roared in approval. He noticed the white. Clone troopers. He found Meera with his eyes. They were making a beeline straight for her.

==================================================================================================================

Lat Remmo had not failed to notice the Imperial soldiers, either. Running into the lounge area, situated behind the top box, he found the Clone commander, whose armor had green markings to distinguish rank. 'You told me you would not capture them until I had my money! My share of the prize, my wagers, and my fee for disclosing them to you!'

'The Empire says lots of things', said the clone, idly. He drew out his blaster pistol, leveled it at the spice lord's head, and fired, almost lazily.

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

Nar Shadaa

John's armour took an energy lance as he failed to take cover fast enough. The raid was not going well. Their leader, Flynn had taken a bolt to the head, and his second had cracked from the stress. Out of the eight men that had failed at assaulting the ship, five remained. The ship that was the supposed headquarters of an imperial smuggler, that was supposedly feeding their docking locations to imperials, turned out to be a bounty hunter ring using it as bait.

John ducked behind a stack of crates before the sniper could double tap him. He quickly checked his armour, the void seal was holding, currently unneeded but good to know none the less. His armour had a clear hole over his heart however.

A trandosian attempted to sneak up on John while he was attempting to restore comms with the rest of the squad, only to receive a blast to the face, from John's shattergun.

"Fek." said John as he realized the gun was emptied by that. He fitted it back against his sling and went back to restoring comms.
The commlink regained connection with the line and John relayed that they needed to focus fire on the sniper, and retreat after "the signal."
John drew his pistol and pulled a satchel charge from his pack.

He yelled "GO!" and ran from his cover straight to the ship. The four tried to cover him from the sniper, but John took another hit. This time in the leg, he felt his blood spray out but continued running as one of the hunters attempted to jump him, only to receive a shot to the face. John tossed the charge at an exposed terminal. The timer started as he began bolting for an exit from the docks. Unfortunately the sniper was watching him and John took another shot, this time through the shoulder. More blood coated his armour as he continued running.

The charge went off and the rest of the men ran with the casualties in tow, as the snipers attention was thrown off.

The ship hadn't been damaged too badly, just enough to kill it's power to the engines. It would most likely require a day at most of repair.

John kept running through hab blocks as he looked for friendly faces. The blood stopped trickling out, but he could feel shock kicking in. What the hell was that prick firing? John barged into a building he knew had friends in it. After a few minutes of wandering up stairs and through halls he found one of the designated safe houses. He walked in, hit the panic button, and collapsed as his system began to feel the effect of the shots.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Ria flipped open the cover of the control pad and punched in the nine digit sequence. She stepped back from the pod, gripping her blaster pistol and leaning against the wall. It'd take a few minutes for the pod to warm him back up, but once that was done...

She grabbed him and pulled the Quarren out of the tank, slapping stuncuffs on him before he had a chance to properly wake up and get his bearings. "Welcome back to Nar Shaddaa." The helmet amplified her whisper-quiet voice, injecting a mechanical buzz into it simultaneously. The Quarren - Dal Krasnan - let out a quiet moan of terror and tried to get to his feet, only for the cuffs to send a shock through him that brought him back to his knees. Ria grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him through Stiletto to the loading ramp, shoving him into the back of the speeder out front before taking the wheel.

"Please don't do this. I have credits, a lot of credits. I'll tell you where I hid them, they've got to be more than you're getting paid."

"No."

"I have friends! Powerful friends! I can get you things, useful things! Contacts, weapons, ships!"

"No."

"Please don't do this, you have no idea what they'll do to me."

"Actually, I have a pretty reasonable idea. They'll probably lock you up in a dungeon. Torture you - both for information and to make an example of you - and then when they've finally exhausted all your useful information and they've gotten tired of making you squeal, they'll kill you. Airlocking is popular, but back in the old days they used to just throw you off the top of the tower." She tilted her head. "They might do something a bit more gruesome to make an example. I don't really keep up with the trends."

"And you're just going to let them!?"

"Yes. Why does that surprise you?"

"But...but I can make a better offer!"

"One, I doubt that. Two, even if you could, I have a reputation to uphold. Bounty Hunters willing to cut deals are worthless. No one trusts them, which means I'd have to live off public bounties. That's no way to live."

"I...but...I..."

"I recommend you stop talking and save your strength. Once you're out of my custody you might be able to escape. Doubt it, though."

* * * * *
Transition from Hyperspace to Realspace was normally a fairly standard affair that most people might miss if they weren't paying attention, the ship decelerating at a comfortable clip as it exited realspace, the crew cushioned by powerful inertial dampening systems.

That was not the case today for the crew of the RSD Liberation.

A one percent inertial dampener malfunction resulted in the crew being slammed against control consoles and flung out of chairs. Savren Khaen himself was flung from his chair, his breath mask coming off. He gasped in pain as his ribs were compressed against the deck plating, gulping in toxic nitrogen/oxygen air before fumbling his mask back on and coughing.

"Status!" He yelled as he got his breath back.

"Inertial dampeners hiccuped. It looks like we took damage to one of their primary power conduits and the secondaries couldn't fully pick up the slack." His damage control officer shouted from his pit.

"Get repair teams on it. Is anyone hurt?"

A few acknowledgements came back. He flicked a comm switch. "Khaen to infirmary, we need medical teams on the Bridge." He flicked the comm off. "Were we followed?"

A long pause as his crew pulled themselves upright or back into chairs. "That's a negative, Captain. No sign of Imperial pursuit, I think we managed to slip them at Bimmisaari."

"Maintain battle stations for the time being. Get repair crews out there."

Khaen strode to the front of the bridge, looking out over the once shining surface of his ship. Liberation had once been a white dagger, emblazoned with the red stripes of the Republic. Now the hull was covered in carbon scoring and in places had completely buckled. Several compartments of the ship were uninhabitable at the moment - nonessential compartments, but still parts of his ship.

Men and women under his command had died in those compartments when they'd breached.

"I want this ship restored to full combat readiness as quickly as possible. This war isn't over yet."

* * * * *
The boxy shape of an Aka'jor class shuttle touched down on blasted, barren world of Korriban, in the middle of the great Valley of the Sith Lords. A few moments after touching down, the back of the craft opened, the ramp lowering and a figure descending through the kicked up dust.

From under her hood, Eris surveyed the world, and for a moment it was transformed in her eyes - a legion of white-armored soldiers assembled before her shuttle, while in the background hundreds of black-clad men and women stopped their digs and research to kneel to her. She strode down the ramp, a smile curling across her face, but a moment later the vision was gone.

A spectre of the past? Or a vision of the future?

Eris breathed deeply, letting her mind slip the boundaries of flesh and feel what lay around her. There were places in the galaxy where the Dark Side was strong - the ruins on Bpfassh, the Massassi Temples on Yavin IV. On Korriban, it was wholly different. In those places the Dark Side was a stain, like black ink fallen on white cloth.

Here, though, the whole world seemed to be crafted out of the raw stuff of the Dark Side, every speck of dirt, every laid stone, every mouldering skeleton burned dark in her mind's eye.

There was power here, great, unimaginable power. And yet, these were failures of the Sith. Every great Lord in his tomb, surrounded by artifacts, with great tomes extolling his deeds, they were all failures. They had all failed to meet the true ideal of the Sith.

A true Sith never dies.

 

[TheBlueShotgun0]

Ian Galam walked out of the transport ship and into the hanger of the Circumtore Space Station with a duffle bag slung across his chest. He had finally made it to Hutt Space and away from the Empire. He knew he wasn't totally out of the woods yet, he was still wanted after all, but he was starting to think that he might manage to avoid arrest. Still, Ian was hesitant to get his hopes up. He had gotten his hopes up about the Republic, and look what had happened to that.

He followed a small group over to the back of the ship and got in the back of the line. One by one, the people in front of Ian stated their names to a tall Twi'lek male, who then checked a datapad before having a pair of workers retrieve and open a metal crate. The passenger would take their possessions and leave, and the Twi'lek would ask for the next name. Eventually, everyone else had gotten their cargo, leaving only Ian.

"Name?" he asked in a drone-like tone.

"Mord Talon." Ian answered. He'd been advised to use a fake name, and had decided not to take chances.

The Twi'lek traced his finger down his datapad. The finger stopped and he grunted in surprise. "78!" he called back into the cargo hold. A minute later, a Wookiee and a muscular human came back carrying a crate about 1 meter tall and 4 long. As they set it down and began opening it, the Twi'lek turned back to Ian. "This is the biggest item we've transported in a while." he said. "We've been taking bets on what it is. I've got money on a drug lab."

Ian snickered. "Na, nothing like that. Much more valuable, in fact, and 10 times as illegal." The crate fell apart to reveal Ian's customized and modified BARC Speeder Bike. The baster cannons were hidden by a black sheet, but it was still clearly a piece of military hardware that no average civilian had any right to own. "And I'd be a damn shame if any fine gentlemen in white found out about it." Ian added, and waved a handful of credit bills in front of the Twi'lek.

"Yes, a damn shame indeed." the Twi'lek said, and took the credits with a smirk.

A few hours later...

Ian sat at a bar stirring his drink. He'd rented some space in a warehouse to sleep and store his bike for the night. With that out of the way, he'd gone out for a drink to celebrate his new relative freedom. Nothing too strong or expensive, but after a month of plain water and dry fruit, it felt like a party to Ian. He took a sip of the ale and considered hooking up with a girl, but decided that he should keep a low profile for now.

Ian finished his drink and the bartender came with his bill. He payed for it, painfully aware that he didn't have much money left to spend. 200 credits, barely a month of living expenses. One thing was certain: he had to find work, and fast. "Excuse me." he called to the bartender before he could walk away. "Do you know someplace were a guy could find work?"

The human seemed to think the question over for a second. "Well, there's always a demand for traders heading for Nar Shaddaa." he said. "The crew of a small trading frigate frequents here. I could give you their number if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate that, thanks."

 

[The Funslinger]

Meera's heart soared as Dran was declared the victor. He was safe, and they could escape. He'd put on a fair display to achieve it, proving that even without a weapon, a Jedi was still deadly. It was always a learning experience to watch her master fight; he was easily among the best swordsmen she'd seen in her years, and she felt her dueling tutelage would be safe with him. If he'd ever get over his irresponsible notions that they were not bonded...

Meera's train of thought was interrupted by Dran's voice in her mind. 'Empire. RUN!

Broken from her reverie, she sensed them now, and turned to see a group of Imperial soldiers elbowing through the crowd, carbine rifles held like clubs to barge people aside. She needed to leave. She hitched up Dran's utility belt, tightened around her middle, but too big to not sag, and started pushing through, away from the troopers. Using her lightsaber would draw unwanted attention, but for now, she had Dran's weapons. His vibroblade, and heavy blaster pistol. Meera wasn't as proficient with them as Dran, but it was better than nothing.

Feeling a faint disturbance, she drew Dran's pistol as she came to the stairs leading down from the stands. The Force proved itself right, as a trooper was squatted, holding a scatter gun at the ready. Her armed state caught him off guard, though, and she put two bolts in his chest.

=================================================================================================================

Dran glanced back to where he and the other gladiators had emerged, but the door, a huge blast door that was somewhat out of place, had been lowered prior to the fighting. He'd have to jump. Sprinting towards the wall, he snatched up a vibro-ax as he passed the Wookie's corpse. As he neared the wall, Dran bent his legs, calling on the Force, and pushed off. Sailing through the air, he cleared the wall, and the heads of most of the spectators. To bypass the rest, he flipped gracefully, casting out with the Force again to propel him the remainder of the way to clear floor.

As he landed, he carried on down the stairs. Coming into a lobby, he found three clones, who turned to face him, raising their carbines. One got a burst off, which he blocked with a Force imbued palm, then cast out with both hands, sending the soldiers sprawling. Flicking a hand back, he summoned a blaster to him, and used it to finish the clones before they could get up. He couldn't take any chances with the Empire. At that moment, the crowds from the stands poured out of the stairs, fleeing the violence. That was a shade confusing. He'd expect the presence of troopers to cause fights to break out; many citizens here had carry weapons and weren't afraid to use them. But what would make them flee like this?

 

[EmperorZuma]

A loud, mechanical groan echoed about the Tiberius' cargo hold, as the port-side cargo ramp began to lower. Jak looked hesitantly at Tiren, but seeing that the Jedi hadn't moved, guessed the Captain had returned. Sure enough, both Lysa and Rewald strode up the ramp. "Captain!" Jak hopped off his perch by Trax's left claw and scrambled over to Lysa, saluting. "Did everything go smoothly."

Rewald snorted a response as he headed towards his cabin. Lysa, on the hand, smiled with a nod. "Everything went according to plan, the shipment has been accepted, and the pay received. How's old Trax doing? Did you find out what happened with him?"

Jak blushed slightly as he looked back at Trax, with Bart busy welding together the several the pair had taken off in their repairs. "He should be functioning again, but I was hoping we would have something to load so I could test my repairs."

Lysa nodded with understanding as she started to walk towards the bow of the ship, Jak following close behind. "Well, I'm afraid the contact didn't have any work for us, so we'll have to go elsewhere to test your repair." A slight smirk grew on Lysa's face. "But, given your track record, I'm sure it will work."

Jak smiled in appreciation, and was about to respond, when a protocol droid emerged from the Storage section of the ship. It was QU-3PO, nicknamed "Q" by Jak, who served as the ship's communications officer and kept Lysa's far flung network of contacts organized. "Captain Estor, a songbird has come from Corsin." Lysa enjoyed using a code of sorts in her network's communiques, making it harder for spies to track her movements.

Lysa sighed as she beckoned Q over, thinking that another of her contacts wants so grunt-work done. "What did it say? I hope Forax doesn't need another shipment of spices, I don't feel like outrunning spicelords again."

Q's servos whirred as the droid shook its head. "The song has a note of sorrow, he requires assistance."

The captain frowned as she caught the hint, a songbird with a sorrowful note was a distress call. "Did he include anything specific in the message?"

"Only that we should prepare to have passengers."

Lysa sighed even heavier as she gestured for Q to lead the way to the cockpit. "Jak, make sure the everything is locked down and ready for take off. I guess we're heading for Corsin...maybe we can keep Rewald entertained this time."

 

[Fappy]

Seranya smiled to herself after putting on the finishing touches. With the new motivator she had installed the little astromech was better than ever. A droid mechanic would have been a rather ineffective cover if she'd been bad at the job. She wiped her hands with a cloth and patted it on the top of it's head, "You're as good as new, little guy."

The droid beeped in response, "Yeah well, I am sure your master will be here to collect you soon. I'm going to power you down until then, okay?"

After hearing a sharp chirp as confirmation, Seranya powered it down. She nearly collided with Nuuta, her Ithorian employer, when she turned to leave the room. She would have apologized on the spot had it not been for the blank expression on his face. She could hardly blame him. Her aura was quite perplexing to say the least, "Yes, Nuuta?"

His trance was banished after a few quick blinks, "*Oh, uh sorry Shel. I came back here to warn you...*" Seranya's expression darkened. She knew what he was about to say. "*Someone just arrived at the spaceport yesterday and has been asking around town if they've seen any of your kind. I don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself in, but I can't let you involve---*"

Seranya put a hand up in a silencing gesture, "Who is he?"

Caught off guard by the question, Nuuta took a moment to gather his thoughts, "*It's Xalron, that... famous bounty hunter ...*"

Seranya sprung into action, collecting all her belongings as fast as she could, "*What should I tell him when he comes by here?*"

After putting on her jacket, she double checked her lightsaber and blaster before starting for the door, "*Shel!*"

She stopped in the doorway and without looking back said, "Tell him the truth."

"*What's the truth?*"

"I worked for you and you didn't know who I was. Then I left."

"*Well, I guess that's not a lie...*"

"Thanks for everything Nuuta."

That would be the last time she ever saw the old ithorian.

Spoiler

The "*" implies he's speaking Ithorian.

 

[The Funslinger]

Meera had been halfway down the stairs when suddenly, something tangled at her neck, and she was wrenched back up. At the top of the flight, she fell to her knees, choking, and clutching at the rappel cord around her neck. Dran's blaster had been knocked from her hand. She plucked the lightsaber from inside her sleeve, but before she had a chance to activate it, and sever the cord, an electric shock coursed through her and made her drop it. As she fell onto her back, a clone squad commander filled her blurry vision, blaster pistol in one hand, and a rappel gun in the other.

=====================================================================================================================

Dran came up the steps to see Meera at the clone's mercy. Springing into action, he flung the vibro ax. It spun through the air, and severed the cord that bound her, and she took difficult, gagging breaths. With the carbine in his hand, Dran laid down a spread of blaster fire, and the clone officer jumped down behind one of the benches.

Dran discarded the blaster, and called the discarded lightsaber to him, its blue blade bursting into life in time to intercept the shots the soldier put his way. One, two, and then three, the final one being redirected into the throat of the clone, who fell twitching.

Dran helped Meera to her feet, and pressed the saber into her hands, then set about retrieving his blaster.

Several hours later

They had managed to slip into the crowds and avoid the local security. Leaving Meera at a cheap Cantina on the outskirts of the Capitol, Dran had doubled back to the arena, returning some time later with three bright gold bars, and a pouch of coins. The stadium owner had nervously passed over his winnings, which were in local currency, Peggets. Now, he and Meera sat in a dingy room, rented for the night. At his insistence, she'd taken the bed, while he made himself comfortable on a questionably put together little armchair in the corner.

'Tomorrow,' he said, 'we'll go to the shipyards. We need something to get off this rock, and to make sure we don't get stranded again. Hitchhiking on transports and cargo ships isn't dependable, and we'll only get ourselves caught.'

'What kind of ship were you thinking, master?'

Dran glared at Meera, until she broke eye contact, but otherwise ignored the title. 'Probably some sort of light freighter. Large enough to provide comfortable living space, and gives us some potential for a variety of work. Plus, they're common as anything, so we can go undetected.'

 

[EmperorZuma]

By the time Lysa and Q got to the cockpit of the Tiberius, situated right on the bow of the ship, Rewald was already there, sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "So, where we going?"

Lysa raised an eyebrow as she sat in the pilot's seat. "What makes you think we're going anywhere?" The captain flipped several switches and the consoles lit up, ready to receive commands.

Rewald chuckled a bit as he gestured to the various monitors. "Besides the fact you're here?You walked right by my cabin, hard to ignore the clanks of metal on metal." Rewald jabbed a finger over to Q, who had taken a seat at a console behind the pair. "So, I ask again, where are we going?"

"Corsin." Lysa looked back to her controls and started putting in commands, resulting in the ship beginning to vibrate as the engines activated. "Another contact run I'm afraid, but you may like this one." Lysa paused as she switched the ship's intercom on. "All hands, brace for takeoff."

"Oh, great. What makes you think I'll actually enjoy another mission carrying freight from one side of the galaxy to the other?" Rewald gripped his chair as the Tiberius lifted off the deck, the view outside quickly getting dimmer as the ship pushed itself through the Taris atmosphere.

"Because, this isn't a simply courier job. Forax sent a distress call, I'm pretty sure he needs to get off Corsin." Once the ship was clear of Taris, Lysa slowed her down and switched on the navicomputer, giving it the coordinates of the Corsin System. Since the system was on a hyperspace lane, along with Taris, they wouldn't have to wait very long for the course to be set.

"Huh, that actually does sound interesting." Rewald scratched his chin as he got up from his chair. "I'll get the guns ready. Hope Forax doesn't disappoint, cause blood's gotta be spilled when I break out Hellbringer."

"It always does." Lysa felt her hand get drawn to her neck as she remembered her own encounter with Rewald's battle-tested rifle. Rewald didn't see this, already on his way out of the cockpit. With him gone, Lysa looked back at Q. "Ok, what have we got on Corsin? It's been awhile since I've been there."

Q looked up from the communications terminal and tilted its head to the side. "Corsin was quickly secured into the new Imperial domain soon after the New Order was established, believed reason for this was to secure the Hydian Way and the trade the route brought to the Core. However, actual Imperial presence has been light. Beyond a Mark I Cardan Station, there is little in terms of force projection."

Lysa nodded as she swiveled in her seat a little. "The Empire might have caught on to Forax's little underworld, not that surprising he wants a ride out if they're moving in for the kill." Lysa shrugged as she checked the computer, seeing it had plotted the course. With a pull of a, rather large, lever, the Tiberius flung itself into Hyperspace. "Although..." Lysa thought aloud as she leaned back in her chair. "...the Empire shouldn't care if a few extra slices get taken out of their pie with entire star systems slipping between their fingers. I wonder what made them stand and take notice?"
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After the ship entered Hyperspace, Tiren found his attempt at meditating inhibited. Now practically out of phase with the rest of the universe, he was left with only what he could sense on-board the ship. So, now contained in an incredibly small space, he focused all his senses on picking up the tiniest detail.

In Engineering, Tiren could hear Jak toiling away with Bart on several pit droids that the crew had picked up on their last visit to Ord Mantell. The padawan never bothered to learn what he called them, but Jak always seemed to get a bit depressed when he spoke of them, like they reminded him of something sad. However, one would never know it from outward appearances, as the boy constantly, and enthusiastically, spoke his thoughts on the repairs aloud, presumably to Bart, who only occasionally beeped a response.

In a forward cabin, one just as large as the captain's, Tiren could feel the excitement pulsating from Rewald, working on the assortment of weapons. So a bloodbath might await us, unfortunate. Tiren sighed as he thought of the prospects of battle. Even though he had calloused himself against the feelings of pain and despair, something he did with much disdain, he loathed to be in conflict. Yet, in a galaxy such as this, with the Jedi on the verge of extinction, what else was there to do? Should I hide like the rest, cutting myself off from the rest of the universe for an age until my kind rises once more? The subject of so many meditations during Tiren's journey rose yet again, it dominated his waking hours as he spent considering his, and the Jedi's, new place in the galaxy. The Jedi have always fallen to the same pattern of growth, stagnation, and fall. The same mistakes are repeated, but the events take so long to mature that few can see them coming. Every time he came to the same deadlock, his moral views being contradicted by the history Tiren had spent so much time studying in the Jedi Temple.

Tiren broke his concentration as he rubbed the top of his head. He could feel the short pinpricks of his blonde hair starting to grow on his scalp, refusing to stay hidden no matter how many times Tiren cut them down. It was an apt metaphor for the Jedi, a stubbornness that made the young man's insides twist into knots. Perhaps I am looking for answers where there are none. A path not yet tread may yield the answers I seek. With a new objective in mind, Tiren resumed his meditation, this time focusing all his efforts inward, making him numb to his surroundings.