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Thread: Star Wars: Dawn of Defiance

  1. #1
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    Default Star Wars: Dawn of Defiance - Episode 1: Traitor's Gambit

    Prologue:

    As with all things, it began in darkness. An unending gulf of black stretched before the two observers. At first, the absence of light started the imagination racing with a convincing belief that there was only insignificance in the vast oblivion spreading before them. They were specks to be swallowed up in the coldness of the universe. The two knew better.

    Light, dark; it was all a part of the same cosmology binding life together, surrounding everything in an invisible energy: a Force. With solace in that knowledge, pinpricks of light appeared in the darkness, unveiling the infinite of outer space. They were stars, blinking and dancing through the veil, turning on unknown axes in galactic-spanned eternity. As the ambient light built, a sun finally crested over the previously hidden planet, spilling majestic light. The star’s rays shone through the room, as the lommite in the transparisteel viewport compensated to keep the onlookers from blinding radiation. Though they had felt each other’s presence through their bond, the lifeline holding everything in the universe together, there was now enough to regard one another through non-luminous senses.

    Tahla and Trangle stared at one another, communicating in ways only jedi could; using the Force as their words. Confusion and bewilderment, deadly emotions, clouded their collective serenity; the major touchstone that all jedi knew binded them in the Force. Had their masters been present, they’d been reminded to mind their surroundings and search their feelings. They were only apprentices after all. Trangle’s bulbous eyes blinked and searched the room, not registering an inkling of where they were. Observant and intelligent like most Mon Calamari, he determined it was the bridge of a starship. But what he felt from his steadfast ally was something different entirely: recognition.

    “How could we be here? This is the bridge of the Assiduous….I served here during the war,” the slender, blonde woman said. The nervous edge to her voice echoed eerily off the plasteel bulkheads, making them both jump. Until then, there had been no sound, not even the drone of air recycling through the life support system.

    As if in response, the view before them began to change. The ship was coming about, yet no one was in the navigator’s crew pit. Controlling their rampant emotions, the jedi watched as the sun arced to the port side, while the large ship lumbered into battle formation with a half-dozen other Star Destroyers. It seemed they were going to war with no one piloting the ship.

    “Quick, we have to do something,” Trangle yelled as he ran to a control station. He’d piloted ships before, so how hard could it be to maneuver something a little bigger? More attuned to the ebb and flow of secrets revealed by the Force, Tahla shrugged. She had a sneaking suspicion all was not as it seemed. As the Mon Calamari tried to raise power, she only watched events unfold.

    The gathered fleet blazed through space at maximum speed, something felt both in the rattling of the deck plates and seen in the glow of the engines of the ships taking point in the formation. Suddenly, a crawling darkness slowly overtook them. Both Trangle and Tahla felt it before the gargantuan shape blocked out the sun, again washing the bridge in darkness. A cold permeated the room, as if death itself came before them. Though years of training had warned them, there was no denying it as it came fully forward, shattering hope and igniting passion. It was the Dark Side, and the jedi were overwhelmed with the blackest emotions. Jealousy, hatred and betrayal all echoed through their conscious minds as they fought to keep control.

    As both Trangle and Tahla struggled against emotional oppression, light slowly returned. But where before shined life-giving rays of a sun, now needles of greenish energy rained down in the dead of space. Following the emerald tracers, their eyes barely registered the amorphous, dark shape from whence they came. It was the most tremendous thing they’d seen short of a planetoid. The ships in their formation took fire, as explosions wracked the arrow-head hulls. It was the deadliest display of turbo-laser fire, hailing down like the storm-front of some god. In moments the fleet was torn asunder in final nova bursts; metallic scraps and ambient radiation the only trace of it's once proud existence.

    Finally the needle points turned direction, and the salvo of energy mercilessly beat the Assiduous’ shields. The jedi gasped while protections failed. From the bridge, they could actually see the armor plating of the hull bubble in red hot moats. As atmospheric explosions echoed up the superstructure, the devastation continued. Knowing doom, the jedi looked to one another and embraced destiny. There was no death, only the force. There was no fear, only serenity. Opening their consciousnesses fully to the beauty that was the life-giving spirit of the universe, the bridge rocked as panels melted and durasteel vaporized. The keel of the Assiduous snapped, and all became white.

    Two sets of eyes jarred open, as human and Mon Calamari sat cross-legged across from one another atop a hill of Klesh-ore. They were still in a rusty cargo bay heading to the Brentaal System for sanctuary away from Coruscant and the death squads.

    The Force had spoken.

    OOC: Ok, guys. Please no posting yet!!!
    Last edited by rogue; 08-02-2011 at 09:38 AM.
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  2. #2
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    Default Star Wars: Dawn of Defiance - Episode 1: Traitor's Gambit

    Last edited by rogue; 12-02-2014 at 08:44 AM.

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    Default The beginning....

    Model THX-1138 was having a bad day.

    Though his singular function as guide to the new Imperial recruits onboard Sel Zonn station was simplistic enough, he’d be the first to tell his “mouse droid” counterparts that adding carbon-based life forms to the mix always complicated every mission. 1138 was a happy droid, always humming binary tunes while speeding along the corridors and labyrinthine passageways of the space station. It was quite easy for new troopers to get lost. One wrong turn by someone unfamiliar with the layout, and they could quickly find themselves in the dilapidated and seedier parts of the station reserved specifically for non-humans. 1138 hated traversing the less traveled ways that were falling into ruin, but he took large pride in zipping around on “rescue missions” to save his young charges. They seemed so much less dependable than the clone-troopers the Empire was quickly replacing, but who was he to judge? He really wasn’t programmed to anyway.

    Earlier 1138 had to dodge a kick from a piggish Gammorean standing outside Deep Storage Bay V-14. 1138 knew the area was restricted to “carbons,” and used it as a short-cut to zoom across that deck. Just as he was processing the best way to report the ugly beast, it lashed out at him with a brutish foot. 1138 swerved at the last second, almost colliding with a binary load-lifter. The lumbering machine warbled a few choice algorithms as he sped by, but the mouse droid hummed all the louder, drowning out the verbal lashings.

    Making his way closer to the Promenade, his crude sensors detected the presence of booted feet echoing behind him. 1138 zagged to the right near the wall in an attempt to evade being trampled. Suddenly the sound of blaster fire peeled the corridor, and the pair of boots stumbled and lifted off the deck, kicking the droid into the nearest bulkhead. 1138 was knocked unceremoniously on his back, and then crunched again as several more pairs of boots gave chase seconds later. While sending the distress signal to the repair bay he found it sadly ironic that those he spent the time saving were the ones that caused the most damage.

    It wasn’t easy being a MSE-6-series repair droid.

    __ __


    The Promenade was filled with the sounds of industry and commerce. Spilling out of the Credit Chip Casino came yells of victory and moans of defeat, while in the adjacent Gundark’s Cantina, the music of a band of Bith played the same raucous tune over and over (they didn’t know any others). Scattered Imperial citizens milled about the large observation windows, gazing at the planet Brentaal below, and wondering what life held in store for them in the vast reaches of space. For Lykka Kohlahn and Ace, it had been a day of mixed emotions.

    The last three weeks had passed at a space slug’s pace. The credits they’d found squirreled away in a false panel in the captain’s quarters of the Beginner’s Luck were all but gone. Not wanting to bring any undue attention, the two kept low profiles. With docking fees due at the end of the week, neither knew how to get access to money and tension was high. Ace was even a little jumpy in the way his partner had looked appraisingly at him the day prior, insisting he was not for sale. Lykka wasn’t so sure.

    And so on this day, Lykka did what he did best. He pooled their collected resources and started working the gambling tables. If a smuggler wasn’t smuggling, the need to turn cheap thrills superceded anything else. Oh sure, honest work was available, but where was the fun in that? As was the rule for most scoundrels, Lykka played Sabaac. In between gambling, the sociable rogue made small-talk and polite, albeit clandestine inquiries. It paid off.

    With Ace sitting impassively at his side, they won the pot and bribed a thug who knew “Switch,” the local crime boss. Ace was amazed in learning the mysterious Switch was actually a fellow droid. After another hour entertaining and speaking to multiple toadies and scummy sycophants, the two finally had an invitation to the crime boss’ hideout; somewhere in the recesses of the deep storage bays, a quarantined zone. Sharing a brief look, they knew to be on their guard. As the saying went, there was no honor among thieves. Leaving the Credit Chip, the duo began their walk across the Promenade causeway to the turbolifts.

    __ __


    On the other side of the Promenade, an unlikely group made their way past the docking checkpoint. Thus far, their credentials had allowed them to slip by without a second glance from the fat, smelly customs officer. Cloaks, jumpsuit and fur stained with Klesh ore, the four traveled warily through the corridors leading to the Promenade. Shayle Wist’lya quietly led the way, a testament to guarded Bothan secrecy. Over the past week the Bothan had spoken no words, surprising all when he expertly addressed the officer to smooth over a records glitch.

    Following the Bothan were the two jedi-in-hiding; the demure human girl Tahla Joona and Mon Calamari Trangle Lightspeeder. As usual, Trangle was daydreaming, his fish eyes gravitating toward the transparisteel observation windows offering a splendid view of the planet below. Flanking the two was the intimidating Zabrak Kadrien Soth, ever on the alert. He had a job to do, and the security of his charges was paramount.

    Shayle led on, heading to the causeway that would take them to the living quarters of his Alderaanian contact.



    OOC: Ok, guys. Give me an introductory post from each of you!!!!!
    Last edited by rogue; 12-10-2010 at 02:44 PM.
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    Post What Should I do? Signed, Grungy Over Brentaal.

    Tahla looked about as bad as she felt.

    Her clothes were stained with grease and soot from the freighter’s payload. She hadn’t been able to bathe for weeks. “I don’t even want to look at my hair…” She thought. The Padawan walked mechanically, placing one foot in front of the other, despite the protest that screamed from her hips. Being around Trangle and the First Prince’s agents didn’t bother her, perhaps because they’d already spent so much time together, but strolling through the station’s crowded Promenade sent that familiar shiver of embarrassment down her spine. Her sunken eyes stared into the shop windows, rivaling the most pathetic Coruscanti urchin. She found herself holding her breath as she passed by storefronts displaying skin crèmes, clothes…”Stop it!” she chided herself. “What would your master say?!” That brought the momentary flash of a smile to her bedraggled face. If he’d seen her like this, He’d have a lot of choice comments at her expense. She sighed inwardly, grasping onto the imagined exchange. A happy memory, even an artificial one, was a rare thing indeed these days.

    She craned her sore neck to catch a glimpse of Trangle from beneath her hood. Poor Trangle, these past months had been hard on her friend. She suddenly felt a twinge of guilt, yearning for a shower, when the young Mon Cal must be really suffering. She noticed the early signs of dehydration on his skin, and began looking around for any public water source to point out to him. He seemed distant since their last meditation session aboard the freighter. Tahla reached over, brushing his shoulder with her hand. She addressed the other learner in a hushed tone, meant for only him. “Trangle…we’re going to have another chance to rest soon. How are you feeling?”
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    Lykka had never enjoyed Sabacc, the game of thieves much, but he discovered early that he had a talent for it. Early in his carrer he had learned the hard way, on more than one occasion, that it was prudent to set limits as to the amount one gambled. But in this case, fate had set the limit for him. With the information they had gleaned from other, less savory types, Lykka was pleased with the prospect of meeting the droid named Switch. Although he had never met a droid that had ascended to the positon of crime boss before, he knew first hand from his time spent with ACE that it was completely possible. His mechanical companion had proven to be more than just an “appliance”, as many in their previous employer’s circle had refered to him when his back was turned. Lykka valued his friendship as much as he would that of any living, breathing lifeform.

    As they strode across the Promenade of Sel Zon Station, he nudged ACE, “See! I told you our luck had to change!” he whispered loudly to the droid over the din of the crowd. He was thoroughly pleased with himself, as he normally was, and was secretly relieved that his luck had held out as long as it had. He currenlty didn’t have a credit on his chip, and with docking fees due sooner than he would like, he had been feeling a bit down and out. However, anyone meeting him, and all those around him would have been none the wiser, for the Twi’lek kept his happy go lucky fascade up, pretending to have the time of his life, encouraging everyone else to do the same.

    Although he truly didn’t like the idea of going to work for another crime boss immediately after leaving the employment of another, the choices were few and far between. Their current desperation would dictate their course of actions for the time being, and although it left him with a bad feeling, he knew there were no other choices. He just hoped that this crime boss Switch wasn’t in business with Ingren Demos, or in league with Darga the Hutt. He shuddred at the thought of walking into a trap. His eyes darted from one shadow to the other, as the two made their way through the crowd to tubolifts.
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  6. #6
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    Kadrien's eyes darted about the space station, appearing nonchalant but taking in every detail. He had come to know these kids in the weeks they'd been together, and that made his job easier, but didn't really change anything. If he had accepted the job he would take a blaster shot for them whether he loved them or despised them, it was just the way he was.

    Over time, he had grown to respect the girl and the Mon Cal. Despite their age they had proven very useful. Kadrien felt more like a bodyguard than a nanny, and that was something he was very appreciative of.

    The Bothan on the other hand, he wasn't exactly sure about. They were a sneaky people, or so Zabrak's commonly believed. Kadrien wasn't one for stereotypes, but the man's lack of communication in the entire week they'd been together hadn't made him any friendlier. Kadrien was all for keeping to oneself, but the Bothan took it to a whole new level. But like before, his personal feelings didn't matter. Shayle was part of the job, that was it.

    His body tensed in such a crowded place after the solitude of the hauler. Any number of these people could have been working for the Empire, and then it was game over.

    "Stay alert, Trangle," he whispered to the Mon Cal. The kid was too damn perceptive to be spending his time watching the stars. They just had a little farther to go before the kids were safe and he got his credits. Until that time he would be more protective than a Corellian sand panther den mother. It was his job.
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    Default

    ACE emitted a a high frequency warble that Lykka knew was his friend “laughing.”

    “Your. Luck. Would be. A lot better. If you. Simply. Installed. The requisite programs. In. My. Heuristic processor. The. Proscriptive sense. Of. The word. Is a. Flawed concept. Perpetuated. By. Meat-bags. Any. How,” he warbled. “We. Make our. Own luck.”

    The droid flipped the flap of his duster back over the blaster holstered on his bulky hip with surprising fluidity. Lykka's nudge had inadvertently exposed it to the crowd on the promenade. Although the droid was licensed to carry the weapon he knew that clone troopers harbored no love for an armed battle droid, even a non-military issue, cobbled together model like himself. He himself was a droid of a unique series. Lykka had never heard of the B55-947-ACE droid before and suspected his friend was one of a kind. This made ACE incredibly proud.

    Although he lacked the rear head flaps of the old Separatist B1 Series he still had the familiar tubed snout, thin gangly limbs, and skinny neck of his predecessors. Those limbs protruded awkwardly from the wider, heavier pieces of what Lykka theorized were the refurbished and repainted torso pieces of two B2 Series Super Battle Droids. The stiff, hollowed out torso was definitely from a droid separate from the one that had provided the blaster scored chest and shoulders the slicer said. The duster and bandoliers of grenades and ammo helped balance out his build and told everyone that looked at him a little too long that he wasn't exactly what he appeared to be at a glance. However, it was probably best to give him a wide berth and not find out for one's self. Here onboard Sel Zonn he kept his coat closed to hide the explosives from security.

    “Do? You think? Switch. Started. Off. Like me? I. Wonder? If. He has. A master? It. Would seem. Logical. That a. Droid. Of his. Status. Would. Serve. Only. Himself. But. How. Is. That Possible?”

    ACE's vocabulator seemed to short out for a moment. The illogical thought of a completely free-willed droid confounded and fascinated him. ACE himself didn't have the charisma to lead that Switch obviously had. He was a good shot and an even better pilot. ACE had excelled at muscling small-time thugs and slipping freighters of cargo past unsuspecting law enforcement agencies. Yet he had disliked serving Igren and Darga. He had fundamentally rejected the reasoning behind what the cartel had programmed him to do.

    When their boss Igren had forced he and Lykka to start delivering slaves to the Empire it had overpowered something in his programming. It was a glitch he didn't understand, a memory of something that shouldn't exist in a droid as young as he was. ACE wanted to leave, to explore, to fly a path of his own choosing through the stars. He wanted to be free. And if he wanted to be free - a droid - then it was only logical that creatures of flesh and blood would want to choose their own paths as well. He would not deprive them of that self-discovered right.

    “Maybe. It! Was just. Beginner's! Luck,” he warbled again as he continued to navigate through the crowd.

    OOC -
    ACE, Stealth check to conceal grenades (d20+9): 19.
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 05-24-2011 at 04:11 PM.
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    “Do? You think? Switch. Started. Off. Like me? I. Wonder? If. He has. A master? It. Would seem. Logical. That a. Droid. Of his. Status. Would. Serve. Only. Himself. But. How. Is. That Possible?”

    Lykka pondered that thought for a moment. "I think anything is possible in such a large and diverse universe," he replied thoughtfully, which seemed out of character for the Twi'lek. His mind flashed back to when he first met the droid on the jungle planet of Felucia during a job he was on with his previous employer. He had always regretted the mind wipe he had been ordered to do on ACE, and wondered if he had subconsciously and intentionally skipped a couple of minor processors in doing so, as a precursor to their current partnership. He only hoped that when the day came that the droid learned the truth about what had transpired, enough time had passed for him to understand and possible forgive his actions.

    “Maybe. It! Was just. Beginner's! Luck,” he warbled again as he continued to navigate through the crowd.

    "Hahaha!" Lykka laughed, wondering if ACE had truly intended to make such a well placed joke, referring to the vessel that had delivered them from the grasp of the crime syndicate. "Sometimes I think you are more human than I am," he shot back, straightening one of his colorful scarfs that he used to decorate his lekku.
    Last edited by Dorgyn Angylaxe; 12-07-2010 at 12:07 AM.
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    Default

    Tahla reached over, brushing Trangle's shoulder with her hand. She addressed the other learner in a hushed tone, meant for only him. “Trangle…we’re going to have another chance to rest soon. How are you feeling?”

    The Mon Calamari seemed distant, contemplative, as he tore his eyes away from the void of space. His thoughts had been drifting back to the morning...the morning of the dream...

    The keel of the Assiduous snapped, and all became white.

    The young Mon Calamari jedi awoke, sitting in a meditative pose across from Tahla, wrapped from the neck down in a dingy white all-temperature cloak, legs folded and crossed on the floor of the rusty cargo bay. Trangle became aware, testing his equilibrium, reaching out with his senses to notice his heartbeat was near normal despite the unnerving dream.

    Afterall, thought Trangle, at the very end there had been no death, only the Force. There had been no fear, only serenity.

    Trangle remained stoic at the caring caress of Tahla's hand, except that his large inquisitive eyes, like oval pools of swimming darkness, blinked gently at her. The small whisker-like tentacles dangling from his chin wiggled as he spoke.

    “Tahla, you are more attuned to visions than I.” Trangle's voice was a harsh barking sound, like talking while gargling Turbobeam antiseptic. But his manner was kind, curious, and he was very careful to speak softly of such matters as they trekked the corridor. The Mon Calamari trusted Tahla in all things, and she him, he believed, and so Trangle did not hesitate to seek her counsel on any matter. Especially, on matters of the Force.

    “You experienced it too, didn’t you.” His large, cone-shaped fish head shifted slightly with his wide lips parted.

    "Stay alert, Trangle," Kadrian whispered to the Mon Cal. The kid was too damn perceptive to be spending his time watching the stars.

    Trangle pursed his lips, brow furrowing, reorienting himself to the present. Despite his young age, he was a strong specimen of his race, the largest "tadpole" in the pod. He nodded to Kadrian agreeably. A moment later, though no one was the wiser, Trangle reached out with the Force. He projected his senses forward, down the corridor, detecting awaiting lifeforms and droids, and behind them, observing whether anyone suspicious was following them. Kadrian was right. And especially after the dream, one could not be too careful.

    OOC
    Use the Force (sense surroundings): swift action d20+8= 21.
    Perception: d20+15= 31, perceives lifeforms and droids up ahead and behind us, even those with total cover.
    Last edited by Bong Bellowsmoke; 12-07-2010 at 12:06 AM.
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    “I will,” Darvig uttered.

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    Post Always In Motion Is The Future, And Hearing Voices In Your Head.

    Trangle’s large eyes swiveled around to regard her. He answered her in a gruff whisper. “Tahla, you are more attuned to visions than I. You experienced it too, didn’t you?” He paused, waiting for her answer.

    “I did. That ship...that ship used to be my home.” She held back a shudder. “ I admit I don’t fully understand, and I shall have to meditate on the matter further. What do you...”

    Tahla stopped suddenly, tensing at a familiar sensation. She relaxed her vision for a moment, and projected to him. “Stop!” She practically hissed. “We’re almost free! You’ll get us killed!” Her thoughts strayed to the weight in her right boot. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to use it.

    OOC:
    Use the Force (telepathy) standard: 1d20(12)+7=19. Beats Trangle's Will Def. to establish link.
    Last edited by SuperBall; 12-07-2010 at 12:38 AM. Reason: funky font size...better now
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