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Game What if Darth Vader killed Obi-Wan and Palpatine? 10 Years Later: A Star Wars Elseworlds Story

Rayge

Active member
Moderator
Dark Council
IC: Galen Marek
Simulation Room, The Devastator



The hiss of the saber ignition ran through Galen arousing his senses and heightening his awareness, scanning the room to get a better understanding of any advantages he or Luke may be able to exploit as he readied the hilts of his twin shoto sabers, each of which was held in a reverse grip an unorthodox style but just as difficult to defend as it is to wield. His sabers sparked, igniting to their full length with an aggressive sizzle followed immediately by a crackle and vibrant hum. The pulsating blades blanket both him and Luke in a red sheen as he acknowledges his brother's comment about Dooku.

"Roger that, brother. Let's cut this has-been down."

Galen slowly but steadily began circling their opponent, his goal being to put the Sith facade between him and Luke, taking a readied stance as he found himself at PROXY's back waiting on Luke to initiate the assault from the front.

TAG: @Darth Nathemus
 

Catalyst

The Cunning Linguist
Moderator
Underworld Ruler
Immortalis
IC Agent Kallus
Imperial Encampment, Alderaan
There was something decidedly serene about the rolling plains and high-rising mountains of Alderaan. It was almost relaxing to gaze upon while descending from low orbit. Unfortunately, the peaceful beauty would soon be pitted with the pockmarks of war.

Agent Kallus paid no heed to these frivolous concerns. When fire spread, there was always going to be damage, and his job was to ensure the fire was stamped as quickly as possible. The chaos of rebellion was an inherently destructive force, an explosion of protean energy disrupting the perfect order the Empire had brought to the galaxy.

The ISB agent stood at-ease nearby Major Rex, a veteran of the Clone Wars and a hero in Kallus's eyes. He watched the clone issue his orders and bolster the morale of his troops like none other. His record in the field of battle was second only to Emperor Skywalker, and Kallus remembered hearing the accounts during his time in the Academy of some of their rumored exploits. Rex was always more than capable of thinking beyond the tactics of the droid armies of the Separatists, and what were these rebels if not the next iteration of dissenters? It really made the point strike home when Rex referred to the traitors that were fighting against the Empire they had helped build. The troops rallied to the call of their commanding officer, and were soon mobilizing into squads. Rex approached where he stood and struck up conversation. “Well, Agent Kallus,” he said, his eyes focusing on the distant rebel base, “let’s hope your intelligence is as good as they say.”

"Rest assured, Major," Kallus responded with measured professionalism. "If Admiral Thrawn were not confident in the quality of my information, he wouldn't have bothered bringing the 501st. If what the smuggler said is true, then we will be dealing a decisive blow in the name of the Empire." He looked upon the bustling soldiers as they scrambled about their assignments and contingencies. "Those are some fine men you command. Heroes, not unlike yourself." There was clear admiration in Kallus's voice. He chuckled softly. "The galaxy owes you much more than it knows. I hope that you get your chance to enjoy it outside the scope of war. Then again, for the 501st, what else is there?" He donned his unique helmet and picked up his rifle, twirling it in his hand before turning back to Rex. "For the Empire."

TAGS: @Darth Nathemus @Cardun Vrek @Hadzuska_The Jester @Senec Tinople @Volacius @DarthFeros
 

Catalyst

The Cunning Linguist
Moderator
Underworld Ruler
Immortalis
Scummy Convoluted Combo

IC: Boba Fett & Maul
Maul's Grotto, Dathomir

"No, no, no." Fett said flatly. "You sent me to retrieve a code cylinder, Maul. Let's not lie to one another." Fett had played this game before. He may have been young, but he'd been hunting for over a decade now. He wasn't about to be shorted for a service. "You sent the kid to retrieve the lightsaber. I'm not keen on learning about my marks from a kid."

Fett hadn't known the particulars of this job until they were well underway to Balmora. And he hadn't learned it from the employer. There was a code to be followed in this business. And Fett knew not everyone followed the code. But that was fine. He could play dirty too.

"And while we're on the subject, since you've got me talking. Bane is washed up. Has been since I put a bolt in him. And if Embo or Shand could have gotten the job done, you'd have hired one of them. They're a lot cheaper than I am. And you're not a man who just throws away his credits. There's one other hunter that could have gotten that job done, and I'm one of the only men in the Galaxy that knows how to contact her, so I think going from 1 million to 2 million is more than fair, Maul." He let that hang in the air.

Fett didn't speak loudly, nor over-animatedly. He simply spoke facts. It wasn't the most expensive job he'd ever done, even if it was doubled in pay out. But he had to admit to himself, he did like working for Maul more than the Hutts. But he needed the terms of this relationship to be clear if it was to continue.

The increasing grin on Maul's face as Fett argued with him was nothing short of unsettling. Fett was the best in the business, this was true. Maul had hired him for his consummate professionalism and no-nonsense attitude, which was exactly what he was dealing with the consequences of now. True, when Vos was contacting Fett about the bounty, he had neglected to mention the nature of the target. Fett should have known better, though. Were it not necessary for utter perfection, Maul would have hired somebody else.

"You are correct, I am not someone who throws away their credits," Maul's cool negotiation matched Fett's tone. "The saber is confirmation that the task was done satisfactorily, but was not part of our deal. Keep it, if you wish. The Inquisitor couldn't be allowed to live, of course, lest word of his failure reached his superiors. I'm sure even someone of your repute does not wish the Empire sniffing at their heels. Poor business."

The threat hung in the air briefly before Maul continued. "However, you have returned my apprentice safely to my care. That is all the indication I require that your service, shall we say, goes above and beyond." He chuckled with a sinister undertone as the saberstaff thrummed next to him. "Fifty percent seems an apt increase to your profits, unless you feel that is still unfair."

Fett stayed silent for a long moment. He looked down at the lightsaber through his visor. He could feel his lip curl up a bit.

"Alright. I can accept that. 3 million is a fair shake for my troubles." Fett tossed the code cylinder to Maul and hooked the lightsaber back to his belt. Another to add to his collection.

"Also, on the subject of the Empire, I'd be careful hiring those other hunters. Most of em aren't trust worthy. And I assume since you've got a front man you don't want anyone knowing that you're running this little operation. Least of all, Skywalker. Word has he's wiping out all the Force sensitives he can that won't work for him. Now, you have another job for me? Your lap boy standing off to the side staring is starting to turn my stomach."

Maul caught the cylinder smoothly, and nodded at Vos to procure a camtono of credits for the bounty hunter. "I know of Skywalker's plans. Were he to have his way, the Force would be distilled to his lineage alone. He lacks Sidious' finesse though, and does not play the puppet master well. Selfish and distracted." An amused chuckle bubbled from his chest. "I am surprised he hasn't reduced Tattooine to glass now that he has the power to do so." His mind flashed back to the day he had first seen the boy. That power in the Force. The briefest of visions had flashed in his mind that the boy running behind the Jedi would be a key galactic player, and yet Maul had almost taken him out with a speeder. I could have cut him down right then…

"We remain beneath his notice because we do not wage open war like the various insurgent cells scattered through the backwater systems," Maul continued. "Many of these cells are headed by Jedi as well, survivors of the Order rallying others to their cause. The unfortunate truth is that while their goals are admirable and align with my own, they themselves never will without some… coercion." His glare leveled upon the Mandalorian. "But I digress. As long as you are paid, you care not for motive, if I am not mistaken." He stepped down towards the man and the boy. "After all, you are a professional, and I have more than enough compensation if you're willing to continue this venture."

Fett nodded and shifted his weight to his other leg. "That's it. Just a simple professional that does work for anyone who has a problem and more credits than they could ever hope to spend."

It was true. Fett had gotten very good at this work. And he remained well employed because he didn't ask questions, so long as they didn't violate his personal code. No kids, not in front of kids, and no free jobs or I-owe-you's.

"Does that mean you have more work for me, Maul? Something your menagerie of diverse talent can't handle?" He said as he cocked his helmeted head as Maul approached.


He performed a series of blinks and armed his wrist blaster and flame jet, just in case Maul did anything funny.


"Indeed." Maul turned his back to the hunter and sauntered back to his throne, seating himself with the confidence of a Hutt betting on a fixed match. "But, before I can reveal your target, I must know: how do you feel about working with Trandoshans?" A cruel smile adorned his tattooed face.


"After you removed yourself from Bossk's care, he has since moved on to a young Corellian. An enterprising young rat," Maul spat the word out, "who fancies himself a pilot and bounty hunter to rival even your expertise. He also happens to owe me quite a large sum," his eyes darted toward Vos, and Maul didn't bother to hide his displeased scowl before returning his attention to Fett, "which means you won't have to worry about splitting your profits."


"Mmmm." Fett groaned into his helmet, considering.


He hadn't seen or heard from Bossk much, if any, since he'd left his care when he was a younger man. Before Concord Dawn. Before Sintas.


He shut those thoughts down and shifted his weight again. "Bossk I have no problem with, as long as we don't have to share a ship. Even with the helmet's air scrubbers, never could get over the smell." He said.


"The Corellian is a different story." Fett had heard of the new kid tagging along with Bossk. Solo, he'd been told his name was. He'd also heard of the spice load the barv had dumped that cost Maul so many credits. "Bottom line is I don't trust him. I've heard he's a slimy one, even in a business that breeds scum and villainy. So, that being the case, I'd like half up front, as a retainer. And insurance in case either of them decide to try and put another dent in my helmet."


Maul growled softly, clearly annoyed at Fett's continued disrespect. He inhaled slowly before responding with distinct malice. "Half up front," he leaned forward, his mechanical legs creaking slightly, "and half when you have returned to me with the target. Alive." He glowered into the faceplate of the bounty hunter. "No disintegrations." His snarl receded and he leaned back once more, assuming the relaxed pose befitting his position. "Solo and Bossk are merely a means to the end, and as such, their survival is not paramount. If they were to perish, their payment would naturally be forfeit." He let the offer hang in the air briefly before continuing.

"As I told you before, I seek Jedi survivors. The Empire is not shy about its purging of Force sensitive individuals, and I am no exception to the rule. Skywalker knows not of my existence, and certainly would not tolerate it if he did. There is a rumor about one other in particular who piques my interest. It is said she has been stoking the fires of discord, and I wish to gain her allegiance." Maul closed his eyes in contemplation. "Our last conversation was… difficult, to say the least. I am hoping that events as of late will reveal the veracity of my claims. Our goals are more similar than she realizes." He looked back down to Fett. "Find the one called Ahsoka Tano. Bring her to me."


"Tano." Fett had heard the name before. Couldn't recall where. Not that it mattered. Names never really mattered to Fett.

The way he saw it, force users had two categories. The ones that would kill you, and the ones that would only kill you if they had to. The latter were the easiest to deal with, because they never gave it all they had. His father, and every trainer and teacher he'd had after Jango, had always had one thing in common. They'd taught him to fight every fight like he was already dead, and winning was the only thing that could bring him back again. Jedi didn't see things that way. Now, the former, they were harder to fight. The ones like Maul. They had no problem killing.

Alive was the biggest pain, though. That meant a lot of planning. Expensive equipment. But he'd done it before. He could do it again. After all, force users had made Fett a household name to criminal leaders across the Galaxy. He knew it was only a matter of time before he ended up in the employment of the Empire because of it.

"Alright, Maul. You've got a deal. But if either of them get even a little shifty, I'm gonna give 'em another hole to breathe through." Fett said, his voice coming out of his helmet in a flat, modulated rhythm. "Where do I meet them, and when do we start?"


Maul closed his eyes once more, concentrating. "She has been sowing the seeds of discord across the galaxy. The last thing my intelligence heard was she was helping one of the nascent rebel cells, though they make a point to be difficult to find. Hence your rather unenviable position. However, I believe Solo and Bossk to be far closer to these rebels. The boy denies it but he is young and idealistic, the perfect breeding ground for dissent. I had heard they were accompanying one of the moving cells. Find him first, and tell him that Crimson Dawn requires his service once more." Maul stood, beckoning his apprentice to follow with a nod. "Once you have found Tano," he continued to dictate to Fett, "tell her to find me where the siege broke. Where I told her the painful truth that she lives surrounded by now. The shattered remains of Sundari. Skywalker has no interest in Mandalore or its people, and she knows it." He raised a hand, calling Gethzerion to him as well. "We will be waiting, bounty hunter. Do not fail me."

TAG: @Darth Nathemus @DarthFeros @Hadzuska_The Jester @Darth Traya
 

Xuul Zephyrot

Active member
IC: Han Solo
Location: Hangar, Saw Gerrera's compound, Onderon


“Blast!”

Han Solo sputtered as an exhaust jet puffed with smoke, expelling hot soot onto his face with a weak chuff. He staggered backwards, hands swiping at his face, rubbing at the oily blackness on his face, yet only succeeding in rubbing it in further.

“Hey!” he yelled, attempting to raise his voice over the continued whines and creaks of the massive ship that loomed far above his head. The engine rumbled on, ominous noises rumbling from deep within its inner workings, a whine growing steadily more strained and rising in pitch as it thundered on.

Han bolted across the messy hangar, leaping over tool kits and dodging further exhaust jets, reciting a list of Corellian curse words he had learned from a buddy of his, Mako Spince, in the White Worms, as if by rote.

Skidding to a halt just past the cockpit, Han waved his hands furiously at the tinted viewport far above, “Turn it off!” Although he could scarcely hear himself above the deafening screech filling the busy hangar, he persisted, jumping up and down as he continued to wave his arms like a crazed Gungan, “Turn it off, you big lizard! Hey!”

At last, the engines began to wind down, their pitches gradually descending into a basso purr, and then quieting. Han marched furiously to the closed landing ramp, and banged on it, “Let me in, lizard-brain! Get down here!”

With a hiss, the ramp separated from the hull and began to descend. Marching up the ramp as soon as he could clamber over, muttering under his breath with his head down, the young Corellian was nearly bowled over as he ran head-first into a 7-foot-tall mass of scale-covered sinews and claws.

“There you are,” Han snarled, craning his neck back to look into the slitted pupils of his partner’s eyes, “What do you think you’re doing? You nearly blew out the Tooth’s primary engine, and if you hadn’t noticed, the Tooth is the only thing standing between us and an Imperial detention cell!”

The Trandoshan snarfed out a garbled retort in his own language. Han could barely get his mouth around the Trandoshan gurgles they called a language, but he’d picked up a pretty good understanding of it in the months he’d traveled around with Bossk. The Trandoshan pointed out petulantly that Han was the mechanic, and he’d told Bossk to fire up the engines.

“Yeah,” Han snapped, on my signal. I still haven’t buffed out that little present the Imps left us with,” he jabbed a thumb back towards the engines, “and until I do, that engine’s going to eat its own exhaust. That little dent is going to leave parts of us in five different systems if it doesn’t get fixed. And until then we’re stuck in Onderon with that lunatic Saw Gerrera and his band of suicidal freedom fighters. Or do you want to get recruited into the Cause?”

Bossk’s eyes narrowed, and he poked a clawed finger at Han’s chest with a warning growl, causing him to wince and stagger a little. Han held up his hands ingratiatingly, “Okay, okay!” he interjected hastily, backing up slightly out of reach of the Trandoshan. “Look,” he said soothingly, rubbing his chest, “I don’t question your instincts when we’re out hunting; you don’t question my instincts when I’m piloting. Same thing here. Just trust me, ok?”

This did nothing to calm Bossk, who advanced with a snarl, pointedly reminding Han that trusting Han was exactly what had gotten them into this mess.

Don’t trust anyone, the voice of his long-dead mentor rang through his head, Assume everyone will betray you, and you will never be disappointed.

Han waved the memory away. That little piece of advice was the reason why Han now lived and Beckett lay rotting on Savareen.

“It’s not my fault!” Han protested, slightly cowed by the Trandoshan but not willing to back down, “You saw it yourself, that place was crawling with-“

With a jerk of his head, Bossk motioned to the busy mechanics and guerilla fighters all around them.

Right, Han thought grimly, Gerrera might have known that they were on the run for botching an Imperial job, but it wouldn’t do for him to learn what exactly that job had been.

Reluctantly, he stepped in closer to Bossk, hissing at him, “That place was crawling with Rebel militia alone, not to mention the personal guard he brought along. There’s no way anybody could have gotten to Iblis, not even Boba Fett. And if you hadn’t noticed,” this time, it was his turn to jab a finger into the Trandoshan’s yellow jumpsuit, although the gesture had far less of an effect than he would have liked, “I saved your scaly hide too. You’d have died along with that Imperial strike team before you even reached the hangar if I hadn’t decided to split as soon as I saw that squadron of Z-95s headed our way.”

As if punctuating Han’s outburst with an exclamation point of dramatic irony, warning klaxons began wailing across the hangar, driving the already busy activity around them into a frenetic surge.

Instantly, the two leaped into action, the argument forgotten for the moment. Han stifled the urge to continue reciting the dictionary of Olys Corellisi swear words, sprinting down the ramp with his partner as Saw Gerrera’s scratchy voice began echoing across the compound: “Get to the transports. Women and children first. I need all able-bodied soldiers armed. Solo, Bossk, you can either start shuttling people off-world or you can take up arms.”

Han exchanged glances with Bossk, “Get on the comms and see what’s going on out there,” Han snapped, “I’m gonna bang the dent out of that exhaust jet with my bare hands if I have to, or we’re going nowhere.”

Without protesting Han’s taking command, the Trandoshan lumbered back aboard, headed for the cockpit. Han sprinted back across the length of the Hound’s Tooth, haphazardly dodging and tripping his way past equally frantic techs and militia. Grabbing a hydrospanner from a nearby tool chest, Han got to work on the exhaust jet, raising a clatter of metal against metal that would wake all the ghosts of Han’s past he carried with him. His comlink buzzed, and he thumbed it furiously. Bossk’s harmonious voice snarled into his ears, and he blanched, dropping the hydrospanner with a clang.

“You said an Imperial Star Destroyer? Blast!” As the dent refused to unbend itself, Han kicked the ship in anger and swore as pain shot through his leg. He dashed back under the Tooth, his expression turning grim. Bossk’s response brought him to a screeching halt, and he stared out at nothing as he processed the reply.

“Did you say Skywalker?”

Han grabbed one of the boarding ramp’s rails and used it to swing himself around and propel him up the steps into the ship. He slammed the button to close the ramp and dashed up to the cockpit. Bossk slid over to the copilot’s seat and Han booted up the sensor array, flicking it impatiently as it whined into existence. “That’s a full ISD, all right,” Han confirmed grimly. “And if the Emperor’s here, then the 501st has got to be here as well.”

Growling, Bossk noted that there was no way that Skywalker had come in person to kill a couple of bounty hunters, no matter how much of a diplomatic incident they had caused.

“Right,” Han agreed, “he’s got to be after Gerrera and whoever else he’s got stowed in that compound of his.”

Bossk cocked his head, still listening to the com chatter of Saw’s Rebels. He rasped again.

“Skywalker is storming the compound himself?” Han asked in disbelief, “What in space is he doing? He could flatten this entire base from orbit if he wanted to.”

Bossk commented that Han should count his blessings as he began keying the ship for lift-off.

“Hold it,” Han said, a thought striking him. “Gerrera said ‘women and children.’ There’s civilians here, and Skywalker’s gonna wipe them out.” Han and Bossk hadn’t ventured far beyond the hangar during their stay there, only venturing out to the cafeteria and cantina occasionally. They certainly hadn’t seen anyone except military personnel on their side of the base.

Bossk shrugged. It was none of their concern what happened to people who threw in their lot with Saw. Their only goal at the moment was to survive. Bossk shot a venomous glance at him, wondering if Han had really renounced the naïve heroic ideals he’d displayed during that first job on Kessel.

That brought Han stock-still, soft words echoing through his head, unbidden.

I know who you really are.

Oh yeah? What’s that?

You are the good guy . . .


With a Trandoshan-like growl, Han swatted those memories away, fuming. Memories of the woman who had betrayed him without so much as a second thought had no right to be lecturing him about right and wrong. He was Han Solo, and he didn’t stick his neck out for nobody, because nobody had ever stuck their neck out for him. Even Bossk; Han was under no illusions that the pair trusted each other no farther than they could throw each other – and in Bossk’s case, probably considerably less far than that.

“You’re right,” he conceded, a bitter edge cutting through his voice, “They chose their path when they followed Gerrera. I didn’t come here to join the Cause; I came here to hide out. Cover’s blown, and Skywalker and his men are preoccupied. Let’s get out of here!”

With an approving growl, Bossk started up the engines, which whined in protest. “Kark it,” Han muttered, “I couldn’t fix the engines.”

An idea struck him, and he pulled up the map of the system, “Hey,” he signaled Bossk over, tapping the map emphatically, “This engine ain’t going to pull through a hyperspace jump without overheating. You remember that moon practically kissing Onderon’s atmosphere when we flew in?”

Bossk growled an acknowledgement, seeing where Han was going.

“That’s right,” Han said with determined enthusiasm, “Dxun. We should have just enough sublight juice to clear atmosphere and fly over to the far side of the moon. We land there, power down, wait for everyone to go on their merry way while we fix this blasted engine, and then we’re clear.”

Bossk powered the ship up. Gazing down through the viewport, Han could see techs backing away, waving their arms up at the pair just as Han had earlier. Unable to stifle a pit in his stomach, Han could see a gaggle of women and children staring up at the departing YV-666 with despair. He tore his eyes away, his attention immediately held by the Star Destroyer that loomed between them and Dxun.

I am not the good guy, the words of his naïve self echoed back at him, the words said in jest. But now Han knew them to be truer than ever, I am definitely not the good guy. I'm a terrible person.

Regrets could come later. Now he had one object: punch through the Star Destroyer blockade and make it to Dxun. His eyes narrowed with steely resolve as the Tooth emerged from the hangar and shot towards space.

“Punch it!”

TAG: @Darth Nathemus @Catalyst @Admiral Volshe @Tobbi Airskipper @corinthia @Cardun Vrek
 

Darth Nathemus

King of Firefist
Staff member
Administrator
Jedi King
Dark Council
Jedi Council
Immortalis
GM UPDATE

Tagset: "Fuck Clones" @Catalyst @Cardun Vrek
IC: Emperor Skywalker, Master Kai Ren, Apprentice Winters
Location: Gerrera's Compound, Onderon


It seemed that the criminals would not simply come quietly. In his heart, the Emperor hoped that Gerrera would see things his way and join the forces of the Empire. But he knew that would be a longshot, if it had any hope at all. The so-called Partisans and the Jedi they harbored would soon meet their abrupt end. Anakin was not in the business of taking prisoners, and Gerrera and Kota would rather fight to the death anyway.

"So be it, indeed," the Emperor retorted. His black robe flowed in the Onderonian wind. It was time to begin this contest of strength. "Ren, take your Apprentice up and attack from above. On my signal." With a dark hiss, Anakin's blue graflex sprung to life in his right hand. It was the weapon of the Empire's greatest hero, and the galaxy would herald him again after this day for the defeat and destruction of this localized, but growing, terrorist organization. In unison, the two Imperial Knights replied to their Emperor. "Yes, Lord Vader." They began to move further to the sides of the opening of the compound and prepared to leap upon the roof.

The Emperor cracked one of his classic smiles, stepped forward with his troops at his back, ready to fire on any terrorists that may appear. In his left hand, a crimson ball of energy formed and Anakin hurled it at the exterior doorway entrance to the compound, hoping to do maximum damage on a molecular level in an attempt to provide his forces access. However, the blast only put a visible burning indent on the exterior doorway.

Powers used: Force Destruction 5
Note: Skywalker's Force Destruction rolls a 6 on a d20 and only minimal burn damage is inflicted on the door.

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Tagset: Escape Onderon? @Xuul Zephyrot
IC:
Admiral Octavian Grant
Location: The Naberrie, Onderon's Orbit

Above the reaches of Onderon, a single light freighter attempted to break through the Imperial force's navy. This could not be allowed to happen, especially when the freighter came into view of the Naberrie's Grand Admiral, Octavian Grant, a royal member of House Mecetti in the Tapani sector. Unbeknownst to no one, but those who secretly served Vader's reborn Sith, Admiral Octavian was a member of the ancient Mecrosa Order of the Sith. But his secret allegiance mattered little to this moment.

The Hound's Tooth was attempting to flee the might of the Empire yet again.
"Launch TIE Fighters!" commanded the Admiral. As soon as he said this, a squad of twenty TIE Fighters shot forth from the base of the Star Destroyer and began to run down the Tooth. There would be no escape for the bone-headed smuggler and his Trandoshan pet.

Note: Solo and Bossk's attempt to flee the Imperials rolls a 1 on a d6 and they are met with a swarm of TIEs.

------------------------------------------------------------
Tagset: PROXY Training @Rayge
IC:
Count Dooku (PROXY) and Luke Skywalker
Location: Training Room, The Naberrie

Dooku had always been a tremendous duelist, and this replicator droid had his Form II Makashi style down to a t. Unfortunately for the droid, it had none of the Count's Force abilities, though the Emperor's scientists were working on such technology. Dooku's red blade was in his right hand, and his left was tucked behind his back between it and his cape. When the older of the two boys attempted to flank the Count from behind, Dooku spun on his heel and took a sweeping strike towards the right hand of Marek in an attempt to cleave his lightsaber hilt in two.

Luke continued to press forward and noticed that Dooku took a swing at Galen first, a gambit he hoped the Count would take. Even though he was a small boy, he was an avid user of Djem So, a Form that Dooku's Makashi had a natural weakness against. Luke took up Kenobi's saber in both hands and ran forward, attempting to block the blade of Dooku.

Note: Dooku's lightsaber swing rolls an 18 on a d20 and can only be blocked or avoided by rolls of 19 or higher. Luke's attempted block rolls a 10 and he completely whiffs, crossing behind the back of the moving Count.
 
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Xarxes

Sith Imperator
Sith Emperor
Moderator
Final Triumvirate
Dark Council
Immortalis
GM APPROVED

Malicos.jpeg

Theme Music:

Audio Sample of Character Voice:


Name/Title: Taron Malicos
Nicknames/Aliases: The Wanderer
Age: 57
Sex: Male
Species: Human (Chandrilan)
Orientation: Uninterested
Homeworld: Chandrilla
Occupation: Former Jedi Master, Wanderer, Scholar
Height: 6’2"
Weight: 190lbs


Physical Description: Brawny and muscular, seemingly unimpaired by his age. Malicos bears the scars of many battles, both from before his descent into madness and from his time among the Nightbrothers on Dathomir. His hair and beard have grown gray and scraggly, the former of which he keeps in a topknot to avoid his eyes. His chest bears a symbolic scar of Nightbrother Viscus’ clan, which he took over.

Clothing: Malicos dons a black and crimson battle skirt and thonged sandals, above which he wears only simple, ragged cloak and hood. The skirt is fastened by a girdle, which contains places for his twin crimson sabers. From his waist hangs a string of Nightbrother horns, trophies he has kept to remind others of his power.

Weapons: Twin crimson-bladed sabers called the Magi (sg. Magus).

Equipment: A stone dagger he uses to skin the animals he feeds on

Vehicles: A repaired Eta-2 Actis-class Jedi Interceptor, still worn from battle and crashing, but emblazoned with Dathomiri symbols.

Languages: Galactic Basic, High Galactic Basic, Dathomiri, Chandrilan, Huttese, Droidspeak

Combat Skills: Malicos is a highly agile, constantly mobile opponent, prioritizing the use of his lightsabers and telekinetic attacks in combat. Switching between three styles with ease, he is highly aggressive, oppressing foes with an unstoppable and savage onslaught of attacks to prevent them from getting a strike at him. His use of Battle Meditation has helped him to lead clone armies in the past, allowing for keen victories when defeat seemed inevitable. He has also begun to delve deeper into the Nightsister magicks, following his first encounter with Nightsister Merrin. Even without his weapons, Malicos remains formidable, using the Force to augment his already deadly skills of unarmed combat.

Other Strengths: Malicos was a renowned tactician and field marshal when he served under the Jedi Order. Even in madness, his tactical genius has not dulled. In addition, because of his earlier interests in boyhood, he is a skilled technician, being very capable of machine work, though he has never used these skills in conjunction with the Force. His madness has given him one exceptional aid, as his mind is as likely to injure those invading it as they are to injure him.

Flaws: Pessimism and madness. Malicos is hell-bent on the achievement of power through the Dark Side of the Force, finding it as his only source of comfort since Order 66, though he has no knowledge of the Sith nor their involvement in Order 66, nor in the current rulers of the galaxy. In addition to the defects of his personality, Malicos lacks knowledge on the current state of the galaxy.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Personality: Malicos is callous and cruel, believing that might makes right, having been corrupted from his former altruist self. He is pragmatic, taking the most efficient route to attaining power, which he uses only for his benefit. He views most others as beneath him, and is a capable linguist, able to seduce others with intricate lies to obtain greater utility for himself.

Fears: For all his ambitions of power and freedom, Malicos still fears losing himself to his madness and dying for nothing.

Likes: Showboating his skills, engaging in combat, attaining power and lording it over others, scholarly debate, being in charge

Dislikes: Those who stand in his way, Jedi, Sith, clones, Nightsisters

Habits: None significant enough to speak of

Relationships/Love Interests: Even after Order 66, Malicos has no inclination to romance.

Friendships: None to speak of.

Masters: Jedi Master Jeral Umbatta (deceased)

Apprentices: Mortrik Daan (deceased)

Reputation: Despite being believed dead, Malicos is still a name brought up in the galaxy when the heroes of the Clones Wars or the brilliant minds of warfare are discussed. He is remembered as a pragmatic and capable leader and a feared opponent. On Dathomir, the few Nightbrother cults who do know of him fear him as an unstoppable monster.

Biography: Born in 66 BBY, Taron Malicos had an uninteresting childhood, even for a Chandrilan noble. Despite being raised with the expectation that he would inherit his parents’ station, he was found to be Force sensitive at an early age and was given over to the Jedi for training. Under Master Jeral Umbatta, a Trandoshan Jedi Guardian, he quickly became a formidable lightsaber combatant, even for a Padawan.
At age 22, he completed the Trials and was made a Jedi Knight, taking upon him an apprentice of his own soon afterwards. Stationed on Serenno long before the Clone Wars began, Malicos was able to impress on the young Daan an appreciation of the arts of the planet, while also molding him into a deadly, valiant weapon for good.
In 22 BBY, war broke out. By this time, both Malicos and his apprentice had been relocated to Coruscant, and both were selected to accompany Grandmaster Yoda to Kamino to fetch the new Clone Army of the Republic. Malicos was, at the time, impressed, yet wary of these new soldiers, feeling something was off about them, and calling to question their loyalties, noticing at once that their primary allegiance was to the Chancellor, not their Jedi Commanders.
His thoughts were met with disagreement from his comrades, but Malicos never once had difficulty with his own troops. They fought together on many frontiers against the Separatist forces, winning over 90% of the engagements he was a part of.
In 19 ABY, Malicos was reassigned to Hapes, along with his apprentice. As they passed alongside the planet Dathomir, Order 66 was issued. Malicos’ clones turned on him, and he responded mercilessly, having been in some small measure prepared for this eventuality for some time. During his escape, he dealt considerable damage to the ship, but his own fighter was damaged on the way out, crashing to Dathomir below some distance away from the Venator’s crash sight.
Over the next five years, Malicos made a name for himself among the Nightbrothers near the Temple of Kujet, to which he was drawn upon his escape from Nightbrother captivity. He conquered them, subjecting them to his will while he persuaded the lone Nightsister Merrin to educate him on the ways of Dathomiri Witches. In 14 BBY, a former Jedi Padawan named Cal Kestis arrived on the planet. Within hours of his arrival, Malicos’ ruse was up and Merrin turned on him. The Nightbrother chieftain engaged with Merrin briefly, but she retreated, only returning to face him when Kestis returned, but not to accept Malicos’ offer.
The two engaged in a fierce duel, but the Padawan had grown strong and managed to disarm the fallen Jedi. Merrin aided her new friend by burying Malicos in the stone, and the two left after plumbing the depths of the Temple, leaving Malicos for dead.
But he was not yet dead. Rather, calling upon his powers of physical ability, Malicos freed himself from his stony prison, rising to its surface. However, he did not have enough strength in him to re-subjugate the Nightbrothers to him. Instead, he spent days repairing his Jedi interceptor, flying in search of the Venator wreck upon completion, attempting to find another way to get off the planet.
His attempts have thus far failed. Malicos lives as a secluded wanderer in the Dathomiri wastes, waiting for his chance to leave and find freedom.


Level 7 (80 Points)

Shii-Cho: 1
Ataru: 3
Niman: 2
Juyo: 4
Jar-Kai: 4
Saber Throw: 4
Saber Barrier: 4
Telekinetic Lightsaber Combat: 3

Augmentation: 3
>Force Jump: 3
>Force Body: 2
Telekinesis: 3
>Force Push/Pull: 3
Force Sense: 2
>Precognition: 4
Telepathy: 3
>Mental Shield: 4
Force Bond: 2
>Battle Meditation: 4
Battlemind: 4
Force Resistance: 4
>Tutaminis: 4
>Force Barrier: 3
Force Kick: 2
Force Punch: 2
Speed of the Toocha: 3​
 

Xuul Zephyrot

Active member
IC: Han Solo
Location: Hound’s Tooth, upper atmosphere of Onderon



The cockpit was unpleasantly silent as the Hound’s Tooth began to breach Onderon’s thin cloud layer. Han’s hands moved on the controls with practiced ease, hands steady, a stark contrast to the nauseating cocktail of guilt and fear that had already begun to boil over in Han’s gut. He didn’t bother to glance down – or perhaps he couldn’t, his eyes fixed to the forward viewport where danger awaited, his mind already racing with a thousand desperate gambles and shoddy cons.

Ahead of them, the Star Destroyer prowled ever closer, a thousand lights glimmering from its broadside and command tower. So this was the Emperor’s flagship, the Naberrie, a flagship famous amongst its identical brethren for its crew’s merciless efficiency. From here, the Emperor had laid waste to worlds, subjugated even the most organized rebellions, and executed judgment on any who opposed them. And now it was bearing down on Onderon with the murderous single-mindedness that only a near-spotless record of victory upon victory could bring.

Bearing down on Onderon, and now, bearing down on him.

With a grimace, Han stifled his pessimistic thoughts. It didn’t matter whether the capital ship in front of him was a leaky Hutt barge or the legendary Gravestone itself – either way, Han had no intention of tangling with it. Get clear of Onderon, bury the Tooth deep within the tropical fog of Dxun, and lie low until the whole thing had blown over.

Where is Dxun anyway?

As if reading Han’s mind, Bossk broke the brittle silence with a curt snarl, one talon poking at the sensors emphatically. Somehow, the pit in Han’s gut doubled in weight. Just as Han feared, Dxun hid in the shadow of Onderon, far away from the daytime-side of Onderon from which the two bounty hunters had just emerged. Bossk growled, clearly unhappy with this glaring flaw in Han’s impromptu plan.


“I see it, I see it,” Han snapped back, inwardly annoyed that he hadn’t noticed this obvious issue himself before now. The Trandoshan continued to grumble, his justified discontent only making Han more annoyed. Finally, his limited patience gave out.

“You got a better idea?” he challenged, interrupting his partner’s monologue. “Go on, let’s hear your idea of how to escape an Imperial occupation with a busted hyperdrive. Or do you just want to go sit in the backseat and grouch some more?”

Bossk hissed back at him venomously, declaring that there were any number of things they could have done that would have had better survival odds than this gambit. Like staying sub-atmosphere and hiding somewhere else on Onderon.

“Right, wait until the invasion is over and the full occupation force arrives?” Han returned, “This place is gonna be locked up tighter than Naboo in a few hours.”

With an adamant growl, Bossk noted that even staying and fighting with Saw Gerrera would have had better survival odds if they stayed off the front line.

“Are you crazy?” Han took his hands off the controls and swung his seat towards Bossk, voice rising as he swept his hands through his hair in sheer incredulity, “I’ll take these odds over surviving a battle with the Emperor any day.”

His growl too becoming fiercer and more guttural, Bossk began to tell Han exactly where he could put those odds when their squabble was interrupted by a persistent beeping from the sensors.

“I see them,” Han interjected before Bossk could launch into another tirade, “TIE fighters inbound.” He swung his seat back into place, hands once more settling on the yoke as he steered the Tooth through a sharp 90-degree turn away from the Naberrie and its squadrons, and towards the distant moon. Hands flying on the controls, Han slammed all power to the engines, weakening both shields and lasers.

Only further incensed by Han’s attempt to silence him, however, Bossk demanded to know what Han was doing, claws beginning to tap across the copilot’s console to draw power back to shields and weapons.

“No need,” Han asserted, a hint of cockiness creeping into his voice, “I used to be one these guys, remember? They're not gonna waste a squadron of TIEs coming after some rinky-dink freighter; they’re headed for Saw’s base. All we gotta do is slip back into the upper atmosphere and cruise to Dxun.”

An ominous note of impatience in his voice, Bossk reminded Han of what had happened on Lando's ship the last time he had made that kind of assumption based on his short stint in the Imperial Navy.

"Last time, they were after us because we were the ones who made trouble on Kessel," Han argued with the glib smoothness of a man with full confidence in his own opinions, "This time, we ain't Saw or his band of rebels. There's no reason for them to waste time on us. Trust me."

With this last emphatic statement, Han jabbed at the controls, undoing Bossk’s efforts and siphoning power back to the engines.

Bossk had had enough. Leaping from his seat, the giant lizard grabbed Han, forcibly ejecting him from the pilot’s seat and slamming him onto the hard metal deck. Too indignant to register any pain, Han sprang back to his feet, grabbing at Bossk’s jumpsuit to stop him from settling himself into the captain’s chair. Whipping around, the Trandoshan’s scaly arm collided with Han’s face, both hunters knocked off-balance by the force of the blow.

Before the struggle for command of the cabin could further escalate, however, an enormous shudder jolted through the ship, sending both would-be captains tumbling to the floor. Han wasted no time in jumping up and stumbling back to the captain’s chair, hastily securing a safety belt around his torso. Bossk too sprang to his feet, roaring as his fears were justified, as the squadron of TIEs swiftly bore down on the drifting bounty ship.

For once saving his breath from the thousand repartees that jumped to mind, Han shoved the controls forward, propelling the Tooth into a sprint as fast as its lumbering form could carry it. Bossk’s talons dug into the headrest of the captain’s chair in an effort not to be again tossed around by the sudden change in velocity.

But the TIEs continued their chase, and despite Han’s boastfulness, an impending realization became clear: even the Tooth’s maximum overdrive could not outpace the light and nimble TIEs pursuing it.

Han felt a set of cold, razor-sharp talons settle around his throat, and he gulped, Adam’s apple knocking against scaly fingers. A jet of warm air tickled his ear accompanied by a snarl, and Han felt as if he could practically feel the Trandoshan’s forked tongue tickling his ear as Bossk began to speak. With all the quiet control of a man-eating reptile about to pounce, Bossk explained that Han could either divert power back to the rear shields and guns, or Han could enjoy the rest of the, no doubt, very short trip in the bounty cage in the rear of the ship.

Whether it was because Han’s subconscious agreed with Bossk’s wisdom or out of sheer self-preservation, Han’s fingers had never moved faster in undoing the work they had previously done. The ship slowed and the momentum relaxed, the ship echoing with faint whines as the lasers came online and the shields powered up.

But still Bossk did not loosen the grip on the Corellian’s throat. Instead, ignoring Han’s incoherent gasps, the Trandoshan further elaborated that he would be resuming command of the Hound’s Tooth. Han could pilot it for now, of course – it was clear that he was the better pilot. But from here on out, Bossk would be making the decisions.

At last, Bossk’s grip slackened, and Han collapsed forward in a violent spasm of coughing. Curtly, Bossk ordered Han to commence whatever evasive maneuvers he thought best. Bossk was headed for the guns. Wasting no more time, the Trandoshan disappeared, talons clacking against the deck as he sprinted for the turrets.

The whole exchange had taken only a handful of seconds, but already the state of the Tooth was much worse for it. Silently, Han thanked the stars that he had not diverted all power from the rear shields in his moment of arrogance, but only most. As it was, the shields were struggling, but no major damage seemed to have been done.

Casting aside all compunctions with himself or with his newly promoted captain, however, Han narrowed his focus to a laser point, solely concerned with surviving moment-to-moment. Pilot’s instinct kicked in, and he immediately rolled the Tooth into a spin, doing his best to present the squadron behind him with an asymmetrical and unpredictable target. But he knew that ducks and rolls alone would certainly not be enough. Pushing the yoke forward, the ship dipped, headed down towards Onderon’s clouds.

Han fumbled to clip a ship comlink to his ear. “We’re not giving up yet,” he commed Bossk before he could object, “Those TIEs are made for ship-to-ship dogfights with nothing between them and their target but void. We’ll weave in and out of the clouds and do our best to stay out of their sight. I’m counting on you to pick them off before too many of them find us on their sensors.”

An enthusiastic growl met his ears, the Trandoshan clearly pleased to knock some TIE fighters out of the sky. As the clouds of Onderon surrounded the ship, and the Tooth accelerated towards the night-time side of Onderon, where mysterious Dxun awaited, Han hoped against hope that his moment of arrogance had not doomed him to an early and anticlimactic grave.

TAG: @Darth Nathemus @Catalyst @Cardun Vrek
 

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