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Offline Joshmaul

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The Voice of Thunder
« on: 10/22/19, 11:34:26 AM »
The dreadnought Stormwatch sat at station-keeping just outside a massive asteroid field surrounding a solitary planet, one that looked from this angle to be habitable. But Admiral Bardin Krysiak, commander of the Imperial 14th Fleet - presently assigned to the Imperial Wild Space Command - knew not to take things for granted.

"Detecting a ship coming through the field, Admiral," reported the sensors officer. "Also, having a better look at it now... look here, sir, you see them?"

Krysiak glanced at the display the young man indicated... and nodded. "Navigation beacons. Probably equipped with solar batteries to navigate the repulsors to compensate for the changes in the field. Imperial design, if I'm not mistaken. It seems perhaps we're not on a wild orobird chase after all." His instructions from Dromund Kaas had been vague. The fleet remained near Belkadan, headquarters of the IWSC. But the flagship, his flagship, had been ordered here, to this planet near the edge of Imperial space, not far from Voss.

And no one had told him why.

"Detecting the ship now... a Fury-class interceptor. Interference from the asteroids is blocking the ID signature, though."

Now Krysiak had an idea what it was about. Fury interceptors were almost exclusively used by the Sith. "Give it clearance to land. Honor guard in the hangar."

"Yes, sir."

That detail dealt with, Krysiak left the bridge to go and greet their Sith guest himself. Inwardly, he seethed with impatience. His fleet had remained in Wild Space for years. Most of the people who had been their commanders in that period had either died or moved on. No one had seen the Heermanns, for instance - the architects of the IWSC - since the whole mess on Nathema with the Cult of Zildrog. The inaction had stretched the admiral's patience to breaking point. And now he was being made to play glorified chauffeur for a Sith on some backwater along the border?

As he stepped into the hangar bay, Krysiak watched the Fury's ramp descend. A dark armored figure began to descend from it... and as he saw its face, his eyes widened in absolute shock. He had thought this one another casualty of war... given that he had not been seen or heard from for some time, either. The years had certainly not been kind to him; his hair and beard were now an ashen gray, and he moved slowly, carefully. Upon seeing him, the Sith smiled. "I see you have kept things in good shape here, Bardin. Very good." He looked around. "You have chafed at the idleness as I have, languishing in Wild Space because no one gave you a second thought. But that will change. Inform your fleet to rendezvous at Dromund Kaas. We will all be needed for what is to come."

Krysiak was dumbfounded. After a long silence, when he was sure his voice would not break or stutter, he asked, "And... what is coming, Lord Malagant?"

"What else?" Darth Malagant smiled cruelly. "War."
Circled tomb of a different age
Secret lines carved on ancient stone
Heroic kings laid down to rest
Forgotten is the race that no one knows


Offline Joshmaul

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Re: The Voice of Thunder
« Reply #1 on: 10/23/19, 02:46:01 PM »
TO: Colonel Danrei, Republic Army 87th Battalion "New Talaos Irregulars", Ossus
FROM: General Savel, Republic Army Headquarters, Coruscant

Colonel:

As you are likely aware, hostilities galaxy-wide have increased substantially since the reported re-emergence of Darth Malgus. With things having more or less quieted down in your neck of the woods, I am relocating you and your battalion from Ossus to Onderon, which is presently in a state of barely-contained civil war. Unfortunately, it also happens to be a major food source for the war effort, as well as being a staging area for General Daeruun's forces. Let's hope the entanglements you're about to get into only involve military matters - the only real difference between Onderon and Alderaan is the number of vowels in their names, so far as I'm concerned.

To that end, I have also requested some specialists to join you; they will meet you in the Onderonian capital, Iziz. The crew of the privateer ship
Direwolf have more or less abandoned the idea of remaining on Odessen while their loved ones are in the Empire's gunsights, and so Captain Zherron and Master Tergahn will be fighting for the Republic again, rather than the Alliance. The Direwolf and her allied ship Brigantia are both presently registered from Iziz anyway, so this works out well. The elder Captain Zherron has also offered his blasters to the fight, remarking that he was not "too old for a good scrap"; I think his blood is up after the attack on Dantooine. Would that half our troops had his enthusiasm!

The last new member of your team is another native Onderonian you may know, reactivated as a Jedi commander for the duration of the conflict. I'm sorry to saddle you with him, Mara, given the rather shaky history he's had (especially since the last time he had this job was working for Saresh, hunting folks like you down), but Master Tergahn and - surprisingly - both Captains Zherron have spoken in favor of the idea, and I'm loathe to keep resources from you... especially since the bureaucrats and politicians who really run things seem hell-bent on doing so. I'm sure you will manage well enough.

I envy you being able to get into the thick of things again. Be sure to leave some Imps for me, though - I might just get down into the trenches myself, if I can manage to slip the bureaucratic leash...

Good hunting, old friend.

General Aleric Savel
Republic Army General Staff


----

TO: General Savel, Republic Army Headquarters, Coruscant
FROM: Colonel Danrei, New Talaos Irregulars,
Wayfaring Stranger en route to Onderon

Another planet full of high-born idiots, paired with somebody who'd been trying to kill me not so long ago, it feels like... you really pick the best jobs for me, don't you, Leric? Well, you might outrank me, but as long as I can still kick your ass at sabacc, I will be content.

Thanks for the good wishes, though. And since you asked nicely, I'll send you an Imp or two that you can adopt as a pet.

Cheers,
A.D.

P.S. You still owe me ten thousand credits, by the way.


----

It had been nearly a decade since Ediren Lorath had walked the streets of Iziz, and seeing the sights of home made him think of all that had happened since. Back then, he had been a lost Padawan whose Master had gone insane and defected to the Sith, and the Eternal Empire was about to invade. Now, he was a Knight who had spent the years wandering alone; his corrupted former Master was long dead, and the Eternal Empire had collapsed almost as quickly as it had emerged from Wild Space.

And yet this place had still hardly changed. Then again... it was a center of civilization on a planet that shouldn't have any, so why wouldn't it be immutable? If it worked, it made no sense to change it...

"Strange to see you back in that outfit again. Last time you wore it, I was beating the crap out of you on the bridge of the Talonguard." Ediren turned to face Eidan Zherron, who had eschewed his long black coat due to the tropical conditions, but kept the utility vest he typically wore beneath it; his twin blasters hung at his hips.

Ediren could not help but smile a little. "I seem to remember giving you as good as I got." He had gone back to the Jedi armor favored by those who had liased with the Republic military, like the late Commander Jensyn, who had been killed by the Imperials on Korriban during the Revanite uprising. He had decided to "look the part" when he had volunteered his services to General Savel. Savel had agreed to reactivate him as a Jedi officer, but warned him that he had better do it right - "not like that stupidity you pulled under Saresh", as the general had put it. As he thought of that, his expression sobered. "I never did thank you for that, Captain."

"Thank me? For what?"

"Well, for stranding us on AZ-1194, for a start - and all that followed. It gave me a lot of time to think... you had tried to show me the way, and I was dead set against you. You never lost faith in me."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'never', but... Tergahn was a lot more optimistic than I was. He proved right in the end, though." Zherron's eyebrows rose over the goggle-like cybernetics plugged into his scarred sockets. "At least I hope so."

"We will see." He spotted the Wayfaring Stranger flying in over the palace spire. "I wonder if she'll be as forgiving."

"Give it time, Ediren." Both Jedi and privateer jumped as Tergahn Dai'lo was suddenly standing next to them, still resplendent in his armored Zakuulan robes, saber-pike hilt over one shoulder. "The colonel does hold grudges, but she is also reasonable. And besides, we're all on the same side here."

"Scare me like that again, and we won't be," Zherron muttered.

Tergahn smiled. "Promises, promises. Shall we?"

The three men made their way to where the Thunderclap had landed, waiting at the foot of the ramp as it descended to the ground. Republic troopers in various kinds of armor - light and heavy alike - stepped out of the transport. Last but not least was their commander. Though at an age where most would consider retirement - similarly to Zherron - Colonel Ashmara Danrei still had enough left in her to keep fighting. Probably until the end.

The Zabrak commander held her helmet in the crook of one arm as she descended the ramp. Tergahn inclined his head to her. "Good to see you again, Colonel."

"Likewise, Master Tergahn." She looked over the three men, eyes narrowing only slightly when she saw Ediren, and then glanced at the privateer captain. "And the other Captain Zherron?"

"Getting the lay of the land," he replied. "She figured you would want to know what kind of hell you were getting into." He chuckled. "Not that we didn't already have an idea. Just another day in the Republic."

The colonel snorted. "Yeah, well, let's hope we can keep this place 'in the Republic'. Let's get cracking. This isn't a vacation. Sure as hell isn't a paid one."
« Last Edit: 10/23/19, 02:48:39 PM by Joshmaul »
Circled tomb of a different age
Secret lines carved on ancient stone
Heroic kings laid down to rest
Forgotten is the race that no one knows