Fallenreaper

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

I think I'm done...

teine

_{I don't own the art, it belongs to its rightful owner. It is just a picture to help with visualization.}

Name

Ciara Smith

Age

16

Gender

Female

Ethnicity

Irish

Height

5’0” (little over 152 cm)

Weight

124 lbs. (56.3 kg)

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Mutant's Mark

Ciara’s whole body is her mutant mark.

Appearance

Ciara’s mother described her to be living fire, both in its best and worst form. Overall her shape is human with a thin and light build. But that’s where her human similarities seem to end. Her hair seems to be a pixie cut most of the time but lengthens when angry.

At her default mood, her skin is primarily black. There are yellow and red magma veins running over the cracks on the surface. These lines give off a faint glow in the darkness. Her hair is lazy smoke rising and appears to be a short cut. Her pupils and irises are the same color, being a bright yellow. The eyeballs themselves are a deep red. Her ears curve into forked pointed fashion, attaching the bottom to her jawline. Large patches of her body are a slight off black in color, every single one a scar from her abusive past.

At her angriest, Ciara’s fire engulfs her whole body and burns everything away. She still retains a human-like appearance, but it’s more like a living flame than blood and flesh. Her veins seeming to hold no blood at all when she bleeds. It still weakens her when she is hit and suffers damage.

Her usual outfit are on practical and traditional unless she’s working in the forge. When traveling, she’ll wear plain white and brown dresses that fall down to her feet. They are firm fitting to her body enabling mobility as she works. On her feet are well worn and second hand down boots. In the forge, she switches out her dress for a tunic and breeches. Often she’s covered in soot due to her fire element.

Personality

🔥Short Temper: Ciara has a short, Irish temper like her father. It doesn’t take much to get her started, but she quickly burns out. She doesn’t hold a grudge against others. She struggles the most with this negative trait of her personality since it’s not hard to get her riled up.

🔥 Mask: Ciara doesn’t let her sorrow or pain show past her demeanor. She tries to be an assertive and strong type, but it’s not easy. Especially when trying to do it every day. Most know her to be a bundle of energy and a little moody.

🔥Craving Normalcy: Ciara wishes she could have a normal life and carving the simple things. So any time she can practice or receive it, she is grateful. Even if she doesn't say so. There is a small acknowledgment at the back of her brain that she knows it won’t last.

🔥Emotional: Ciara’s emotional state can flip between hot and calm rather easily. She can burn hot and fast one moment, then chill the next one. Most describe personality as being extrovert since her emotions affect her drastically. When she’s angry to sad, you can easily tell it based on her reactions.

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Everyday Skills

🔥Cooking: Ciara has a pretty good cooking skill and improved by the academy. With each meal, she puts great pride in it. It shows since she’s made many simple, but delicious meals. Her favorite dishes happen to be spicy or roasted.

🔥Cleaning: Being heavily independent, Ciara has learned to keep a certain level of cleanliness with her things. This includes the forge, kitchen, and her own room. Sometimes she’ll help others for a small fee or favor.

🔥Basic Sewing: After flaming her clothing so many times, Ciara has learned to make her own clothing. Else she would be running naked around the academy for everyone to see.

🔥Black Smithing: Ciara did gain some basics in blacksmithing when her father made her help him around the shop. At this point, she’s still a very young apprentice, but her skills are edging to a craftsman. In the following years, she has learned to make lots of things. From common tools like nails and horseshoes to weapons like arrowheads and swords. She takes great pride in this.

🔥Basic Survival Skills: She has a basic idea of how to survive in woodlands, snowy landscapes, and deserts. Granted, she will admit she needs help in remembering the information.

🔥Basic Reading, Writing, and Math: All students learned this, but Ciara never enjoyed the math part. She needs others to double-check her addition or subtraction because the numbers are rarely right.

Combat Skills

🔥 Close Quarter Combat: Thanks to the teachers at the school, Ciara has learned a style that fits her. It mixes martial arts, common brawling, and her fire traits into an offensive style.

Equipment

🔥Leather satchel: Large over the shoulder bag for carrying things.

🔥Sewing Kit: Bone needles, catgut thread, and other equipment to patch up rips and tears in clothing. In emergencies, it can be used to stitch up wounds.

🔥2-3 sets of similar clothing: A precaution since her temper can get out of control and result in unwanted exposure. Ciara might not be ashamed of her body, but she’s not the type to flash everyone her goods.

🔥Blacksmith set: A simple hammer, pliers, and few other hand tools for any smithing occasion.

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Powers

🔥Creation of Fire: Ciara is a human embodiment of fire thus enabling her to create her own fire. She stores inside until she calls it forth with her fire manipulation. As a result, her body temperature on average is hotter. Her surface ranges from a heated stone to produce flames strong enough to make 3rd-degree burns on contact. She is not harmed by outside sources of fire. She can touch, walkthrough, and stand in open flames without it affecting her.

🔥Fire Manipulation: Using the fire she creates and expels, Ciara can mold it into any shape or direct it however she wishes. The fire bends to her whims to a certain limit. She often uses her hand gestures to direct her flames than her mind since the latter is more difficult. She can also increase or decrease the power of a flame by focusing her emotions into it. Emotions like anger and happiness will result in a flame growing stronger. Emotions like fear or sorrow will shrink them, eventually dying out.

Weaknesses

Creation of Fire

🔥Water on her skin is like acid. It both damages and prevents the fire from sparking until dried. Submerging or drowning her in large amounts could possibly kill her.

🔥Extreme cold drains away her energy, leaving her weak and tired. This will put her to sleep if she can’t manage to keep warm. Weather can cause her to expand her energy more than usual which means she burns out faster than normal.

🔥Preventing Ciara from getting air will cause her fires to shrink and fade. Naturally, after so long, she’ll pass out like a fire snuffed out by being under a glass jar.

Fire manipulation

🔥 Ciara can only manipulate her own fire, not outside sources. This means any fires that aren’t sourced from her, can’t be stopped or redirected in any fashion.

🔥Fires sourced from Ciara are connected to her. Influenced by her status, meaning if Ciara is put down (knocked out or massively hurt) then her fires instantly burn out.

🔥Ciara needs to keep her emotions in check. Too much anger or fear could cause a wildfire to break out and cause serious amounts of collateral damage until she can get it back under control. With the lower end emotions, she finds it hard to get her fires to build quickly or at all.

🔥Even though she can manipulate it, fire is still fire. It will burn an ally or foe if they come into contact with it. She can not stop that.

Trust Issues
🔥Ciara doesn’t like opening up to others. She won’t share her personal struggles with her emotions or issues, causing her to put them off over and over. This can create issues much later down the road with her abilities. Even emotional outbursts.

Fears
🔥She doesn’t like to feel weak or get pity from them, even when she has gotten close to them. It’s painful to consider how they might see her and how it might not match up to the strong image she wants to show. So she seeks out isolation during these times, but she doesn’t understand how to resolve these issues due to her past.

Quick to Burn, Fast to Burnout
🔥Ciara’s emotions are fast to spark and heat up, but they burn out fairly quickly. This means there are lulls when she uses her fire abilities in combat as she needs to build things back up. These leave her open to attack if she's not careful or overuses her fire ability in combat.

Not Immortal
🔥 While fire can't affect her, Ciara isn't immune to damage from blades, arrows, and other weapons. She can still feel pain and suffer even if the weapon isn't immune to the fire.

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

@Fallenreaper

I didn't specify that, my apologies.

Powers show up early, and just continue to develop through a mutant's life. Considering how every mutant born is obviously a mutant, there is no 'surprise reveal' when their powers happen to go haywire. So, their powers start out when they're little kids, to no one's surprise.

@Shard

I had to ask because X-Men mutants can have big or small outbursts for their powers and can leave some big aftermath. For example, depending on what's possible my firebug can catch her house on fire or just singe a blanket. So I wanted to be sure what was more possible for this world. I guess this means their appearances hints to their abilities?

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

@Fallenreaper

Thank you for your interest.

As of now, no. The only character which is up and about is mine. No one else has run any ideas by me, yet. You're good to go with whatever comes to mind.

@Shard

Cool, I have a small idea for strong fire starter (fire manipulator) with a demonic look. I'm still reading the OoC, but I'm not seeing when powers tend to show up in the mutants. Might've not hit it or missed it. >,<

⚫ The Fates' School for Gifted Monsters ⚫

It's got my interest perked, but I might need a few days to see if I can come up with a suitable idea. This looks like a bunch of fun. Does anyone already have ideas for their character's powers in the works? I don't want to step on toes and I want to make the group as diverse as possible.

[Centares, 6 ATC 5] Trouble in Paradise

Preapproval for the mission-Dropping him here.

Corporal Drey Rumen

[Teya VI, 6 ATC 4] The Solo Disaster

Aboard the Serith, en route to Korriban
Kurin Tonaal, Mahree Mis-Ede, Dashara Horizon

---

Dash’s eyes snapped open. Sweat poured down her skin and drenched her tank top, her figure forced upright from the chill rushing down her spine. This was the fifth time she woke up from her demons pounding at her head. Her breath inhaled while she tossed her legs over the edge, moving toward the refresher. It had a sink over the toilet where she made her best effort to remain presentable. For the first time in a long time, she wished for an actual shower.

She stripped off her shirt to dunk and wiped away the physical evidence. After a few rounds, she made one last purge in the water and wring it off. Removing the sweat it collected, Dash left it to dry on the edge. She tried to determine the day, but her internal clock had stopped long ago. The days and nights melted into lengthy hours without any sort of routine. It all completely vanished when the nightmares began. Despite that, she recalled a lot had happened.

Her telekinesis, while still developing, had improved thanks to Mahree’s lessons. The girl had figured out she was overthinking and distracted her enough to accomplish something. In exchange, Dash showed her how to control and tame her own emotional storm. They still fell short of their desired goals. In the spare time, they learned about each other. While Mahree was completely honest, Dash danced around on certain subjects. Her history with the Exchange being the primary touchy topic for her.

Her figure lowered to the floor. After a few moments, her attention turned to the vidscreens. She wondered how long before hers turned from sleep mode into active. She had watched constantly for the last several days, but due to Mahree’s resistance, the off button had been disabled. Not that it mattered, watching the same vid beat nightmares or fear any day.

Mahree heard Dash as she woke up, no doubt about what she was feeling and what caused her to wake. Should Dash look over, she’d see Mahree sitting in the center of her cell, meditating as she had been doing on and off during their time aboard Kurin’s ship. The younger girl tried to stay calm for Dash, as there were many times Mahree feared the worst, for she wasn’t naive. She knew that wherever they were headed, the experience would not be a pleasant one. She had tried her hardest to distract herself from the subject.

Many times she found herself talking with Dash for hours on end. Sharing each other's past, interests, and various other things. It helped Mahree, in a way. She didn’t feel completely alone anymore. Dash was the one thing in her world that she cared about now.

The younger girl attempted to tune out the recording that played on the video system in her cell. It annoyed her as of late, for there was no way to turn it off, and she even found herself dreaming about the damned thing while she slept. It seemed to play constantly, as long as Mahree didn’t make it play herself.

“You alright Dash?” the girl asked. She knew it was a silly question, neither of them was “all right” in their current situation. But she wanted to comfort her one and only friend, the only one she cared about; the only beacon of light that Mahree could turn to in their dark situation.

Dash’s mind pulled from the holovid debate. She blinked then turned to the next cell, catching the girl looking at her. Her eyes shifted down to hide the guilt she felt. For a moment, she stayed quiet and inwardly seemed to debate something. She broke the silence with a smile.

“Yeah, I am. Just a nightmare is all. How are you holding up?” She made sure her voice was soft but reassuring. Even if the slight wavering betrayed her. Her leg stretched out as far it could while her other curled underneath her thigh.

“It would be so much better if we could move around instead of sitting here all day.”

"Well, if I told you I was fine, I'd be lying." Mahree admitted, retaining her meditative posture while she spoke with Dash. Mahree returned her head forward as she closed her eyes again. Her nostrils flared as a long sigh left the girl.

"I'm trying to stay hopeful." She continued, her eyes kept closed as she focused hard on what she felt. A slight smile formed with her lips as Dash nipped at their inability to move very much. "I agree. But it's also given me some direction on meditating since this is one of the few things we can do in here."

“I’m still trying to form an escape, but I ran out of ideas to try. I’ve poked the cage a few times. All I got for my trouble was being shocked so direct attacks against it were is a no go.” Dash forced herself to chuckle at the thought. In truth, it was anything but fun.

She bit her lip as she leaned against the bed in thought.

“I figured it was a good idea to learn about where we were heading. It seems our ‘host’ isn’t against that.” She thumbed at the holovids.

“Some of it is interesting, other pieces are propaganda. It’s not easy telling which is which, but if you pay attention, then you can feel it out.”

"Our host can tell me whatever he wants. The Sith have their faults, as do the Jedi… I'm not taking anyone's side." Mahree muttered, attempting to ignore the holovid that continued to play in her cell. "I don't want to play their game… I won't." The girl continued, finally breaking her meditative pose and looking back over at Dash. Mahree relaxed a little, her body starting to feel stiff and sore at the constant meditation she had put herself in.

The younger girl was trying to be strong. It was quite a difference between the first day she had been captive, to now. Mahree was afraid of returning to that first day of feeling helpless and with nowhere to go. Dash was the only reason Mahr acted to strong now. If they were going to get through this, they'd have to get through it together.

“I am pretty sure, he’s not saying the Sith are perfect. According to him, Sith are more open about their flaws than the Jedi. He’s even pointed out some are cruel or worse.” Dash stated calmly, eyeing the screens from her peripheral vision. She was relieved when it remained silent.

“You do realize these things are on a time cycle right? We’re given about 8 hours of rest per day, which you can use to determine when to avoid it while it plays. I can’t promise something won’t stick while you sleep through.”

Her figure bounced a bit against the bed before she continued.

“The bad part about our situation, we might not have a choice. The vids show the Academy overseers won’t care if we resist or don’t follow the lessons they teach. Their main goal is to make Sith or kill the weaklings. I’m not going to give them that chance. Are you?” Her tone sounded hard, but warm enough to not sound demanding.

“I’m not going to be someone’s pawn.”

Mahree didn’t say anything further on the subject, but she also did not directly confirm nor deny what Dash asked. Mahree had no rhyme or reason to her meditation. At the moment she preferred to meditate when she was feeling strung or frustrated, feelings that came and went as she sat in the cell and thought about her future.

“Mahree. One thing I learned on Nar Shaddaa, following the flow allows you to live long enough to break away. Those who failed at it were often dead in the lower levels. I don’t want to see you become another corpse.” Dash attempted to pour more reason, in a different way. She couldn’t say purely what was on her mind. Saying the truth put them in a far more dangerous situation than now.

“And I don’t want to see you become a Sith killing machine.” Mahree retorted, although quietly and not as harsh as she thought she sounded. “What happens if we just give in and follow the flow? How do you know you’re not going to lose yourself in their influence? How do you know they won’t do something to you to make you think being a Sith is your purpose in life?”

It was probably apparent by now that Mahree was frightened. She didn’t know what to expect, she didn’t know what the Sith would do to her or Dash. Would they even see each other after they left the ship? Was there some sort of mind tricks or scare tactics they’d use to persuade her or Dash to obey?

Dash inhaled, her head leaned down onto her chest as she considered her words.

“First, you’re speaking out of fear. Fear of the unknown. We don’t know what they do at the Academy, but we have an idea for their motivations. At least, the ones they want us to know.”

She pointed to the vidscreens. As if on cue, it came on. Her hand reached out and she inhaled, her hand clawed as if gripping the knob. With a quick twist, it turned to the vids over the Academy.

“Second, knowledge is power. The more you know, the better chance you have to keep your wits. When you know what to expect, it’s easier to see the lies and manipulations.”

Dash adjusted herself up onto the bed, feeling pain edging into her body from her posture. She let her leg dangle down as she continued.

“Finally, they aren’t the first to try to change me. I survived the first time and I will survive this time. Have faith in me.” She gave Mahree a small, reassuring smile.

Mahree didn’t respond to Dash for a few long moments, listening to her friend as she explained her thoughts. It was true, fear was edging it’s way back into Mahree’s heart. Fingers traced the scar that was healing well on the side of her head, most of her short hair hiding what was slowly healing.

Mahree had told herself she wasn’t going to become close to Dash, which is why it had taken the younger girl so long to open up to begin with. She was afraid of losing someone else she cared for. There was a difference between losing her mother and the thought of losing Dash, for this time, Dash really was the last person in the universe she cared for.

The silence didn’t reassure Dash very well. She frowned, biting her lip in thought and looked about the cell for ideas. Nothing came to mind at first causing her to wing it.

“Look, things look hopeless right now. I wish they were better, but they aren’t. The best we can do is prepare ourselves and work together. If we’re smart about this, things will work out.” She sounded confident, though inside she wavered and questioned it herself.

Mahree didn’t say anything further to Dash. She nodded, showing her friend that she was listening, but trying to show confidence in the face of the unknown was proving more and more difficult the longer Mahree sat in the cell.

The fear of the unknown was strong and unavoidable.

Kurin had observed the two prisoners, primarily from other sections of the ship through the surveillance systems. They were unfortunately still refusing to accept their destiny, but at least the criminal was properly perusing the vidscreen. They lacked a lot in motivation, unfortunately. He had no doubts they would seek to escape Korriban, so he would have to notify the Overseers to keep an eye out for just that.

The odds of success were not high, but there was no need to be cocky about their limited chances. Thankfully he would be able to pass them off soon, so that he could get back to his more usual business. There were still revanites to hunt. They spread like the vermin they are. Which reminded him of a lesson his master had taught him: ‘Never let your guard down.’

He always kept to that rule. Too often people suffered for not following it. With that in mind, he thought about the future of his cargo. They clearly did not want to remain at the academy. Perhaps he should suggest to the overseers that they keep them apart, that they find ways to play them up against each other? It would be better for them to experience such at the academy than to do it afterwards. At least it was organized at the academy and rarely led to deaths. If they survive the trials ahead, he could say for certain that they will not find the rest of the galaxy nearly as forgiving.

There were many ways of making things difficult for them should they somehow either manage to flee the academy or simply try to do so. Tattoos marking them as Sith acolytes. Implanted tracking beacons. Shock collars. Those were just some of the means. Each overseer had his or her own favorite means. He had also heard that sometimes some were released to give the Republic or Jedi false intel, but that was a rare thing, only done with the approval of powerful Sith, if not a member of the Dark Council itself. He rather liked thinking about these things.

Dash scratched her nose. She stood onto her feet then checked the sink, her shirt still pretty wet. She shot it a disapproving look before she crawled back into her cot. Her head turned to her rapier. It leaned against her bed and unused. What she wouldn’t give for a stress reliever right now. She regretted her last one had been with the black market merchant who eyed her up like a nerf steak.

She exhaled then looked to Mahree. Her lips opened to say something when a loud clunk caught her attention. Dash’s eyes snapped to the metal vents, her horror flooded her face at seeing the slots open and thick yellow gas pouring in. Immediately she was on her feet with wide eyes. Frantically she tried to think of what they did to trigger a reaction, but nothing came. They simply talked.

Her attention turned to Mahree’s cage to see the same thing happening to her.

“Fuck! What the hell did we do?!?” Dash snapped as she went for her shirt.

Sitting in the center of her cell, meditation was one of the few things Mahree spent her time with now. That, and talking with Dash.

Eyes closed, breathing slow and controlled, the girl didn't really know what she was doing, but the act of meditating helped to calm her nerves.

Mahree heard the vents start to hiss, eyes opened to see the thick yellow gas pouring out from the system. The young girl started to feel the effects almost immediately.

"Dash!" Mahree yelled, standing quickly and looking to her friend. Moments later the girl dropped to her knees, a hand over her mouth as she started to cough. Her vision quickly started to darken, tears filling her eyes as darkness took her, her body falling to the side and hitting the ground, motionless.

In her haste, Dash’s arm slapped the force field. A warming hum happened before energy surged into her. She crumbled onto her hands and knees. During her fall, she managed to grab the wet shirt. She pressed it to her lower face and hoped it might buy her time. It wouldn’t. Already she felt the familiar weight of the gas’ effect pin her down.

Her eyes turned to Mahree. The girl crumpled into a heap, defenseless and succumbed to the gas. Dashara’s heart pounded. It thumped harshly in her chest and the familiar heat rushed through her. Gradually her vision flickered into a red tunnel. She shoved herself up with all her fading might. An enraged scream rippled through her chest. It spilled out into the air, followed by all her force power possible. She shoved it right onto the floor underneath her. She hoped to make a dent.

Even with her rage, it didn’t seem to work.

It even failed to burn the heaviness in her limbs away. She wanted to lash out and fight, but she couldn’t. Her body began to lower onto her side. She managed to see the other cage filled by the gas as her thoughts apologized.

Sorry, Mahree.

The world went black.

The hiss of the gas was not audible outside the cells, nor could the sound as the two acolytes collapsed to the floor be heard over the natural sounds of the ship operating. However, Kurin could see it all on the cameras and turned off and vented the gas the moment he confirmed that it had taken effect.

“It is time,” he said to Iris and Kira, waving for them to enter. Kurin turned away from the cameras as the two female crew members quickly stripped the two acolytes of their clothes and belongings, having been told to search the two thoroughly to ensure that nothing would be smuggled into the academy. Afterward, they were to dress them in standard acolyte clothes consisting of black pants and tunics. Until they were delivered to the academy where fabricators could manufacture correctly sized boots, they would have to remain barefoot. As they would be delivered in their current unconscious state, that was of no import.

Only when that had all been taken care of and each had been fitted with a basic stun collar did his two crew members return. The collars would be removed on arrival at the academy but would keep them from waking up early. About twenty minutes later the ship emerged from hyperspace and the complex process for gaining safe entry into Korriban space began.

Ideally, he would have let the two remain conscious a bit longer, but with recent security concerns, the Second Defense Fleet had instituted stricter regulations, requiring him to have his entire crew on station for the process. Thankfully, with everything and everyone prepared for this, there were no hiccups in the processing of their landing approval.

On the way down to the planet’s surface, he sent the standardized message to the academy to notify them that he had two older acolytes for transfer. He could transport them over to the academy himself, but he seemed to recall that the Overseers preferred to take care of that themselves. Their few belongings were packed in a crate that would be sent along with them, as would the data cylinders with his reports on the two.

Veda: The World We Once Knew...

I'm wondering that myself. I sent him a pm a while ago (10 days), but I've yet to get an answer or feedback. And I've seen him online a few times.

[Deep Core, 6 ATC 4] Mission: Harvest Moon

Drey’s consciousness turned inward. He had slumped into the corner nearest Brair's cockpit, idly listening to the others board. His hand tugged at the shirt collar clinging to him. He hated being out of uniform, but the operation had its orders. Any possible evidence of Empire involvement avoided. No uniforms, weapons or other obvious clues left behind. Drey didn't think it mattered much. The Republic's blame would itself at their front door no matter what.

Ever the good soldier, he followed his orders. He traded in his Imperial uniform for a merc one. The pieces of armor had seen better days. Discolored by age, they had a dull, reddish coloring to the once gunmetal gray. He had them placed on his chest, legs, and face. They protected the most vulnerable areas. The helmet had a faded skull pattern painted over the front. It served well to hid his identity while blending into the unruly crowd of mercs. Underneath it, he wore a simple brown tunic and black trousers ending in boots. His weapons were close at hand with the blaster pistol on his hip and his blaster rifle rested beside him. Any traces marking it as Empire were removed.

When Briar rolled the cruiser to the upper right, his arms snapped and gripped his seat. His elbows locked in place to keep him from toppling over. A harsh grunt slipped past his lips when a heavier merc, far better armored, slammed into his side. The guy muttered an apology as he straightened up immediately.

“It’s a rough ride, don’t worry about it.” Drey genuinely sounded unbothered by it.

Briar had talent as a pilot, but her flight patterns often left newbies rattled or queasy. In one’s case, Drey heard him hurl chunks on the metal grate. Drey couldn’t help the soft chuckle muffled by his helmet. When Briar’s voice came over the speakers, his hand moved to his blaster rifle. He quickly unclipped the seat's straps and stood upright. While the others were filing toward the boarding tube, he looked at the door to the cockpit. A few moments passed until life stirred from him.

His index finger curled then he did a few quick taps on the cockpit’s frame. Back in the day, whenever he departed from her ship, he started this tradition. It was his way to let her know she did well. Drey knew he couldn’t exactly tell her right now or guarantee he would survive to tell her afterward. So the little gesture worked best.

He inhaled.Go time, he thought then he began to file out with the rest. He doubted that Captain Corvinian knew he was on board because the rooster was vast. Drey truthfully didn’t know how Collem might’ve reacted to his presence, but he didn’t risk a negative one. Besides, he was a soldier first and a friend second.

Drey rushed out into the hanger. He followed the last of his boarding party right into the thick of the fighting. Heavy blaster fire came in from all directions. The Republic troopers attempted to advance. They failed.

A man next to him went down. The shot to his head took him down fast, the corpse crumbled and others kicked it away. No respect for the dead until after the fight. Drey hunched down. He overheard orders for counter fire. His eyes found nearby offloaded cargo crates and slide into cover. He took a knee then listened to the shots. His eyes caught the form of a Falleen Sith slip into one of the far, less busy corridors. Naturally, the Jedi went for the bigger threats: the Sith. The Jedi scum, unfortunately, numbered the few Apprentices he counted earlier. Eventually, a Jedi would cross their path. For now, Drey discarded this thought. Worry didn't help survival odds.

A bolt hissed as it darted past his helmet.

In response, Drey pulled up. He fired the blaster rifle trigger three times. One trooper dropped from a blow to the head, another clipped in a shoulder and the final shot missed. He dropped behind the crate. The man next to him popped up. He let out his own two shots and also dropped down. Like a well-oiled machine, they took turns firing in rotation. The blasts were random as they observed each other’s stance, ready to take the other's place. Drey’s heart began to thump heavily against his chest. The adrenaline filled his head until it buzzed, the idea of surviving death lingered at the back of his mind.

“Fucking Republic,” his shooting partner hissed.

“I rather deal with Republic troopers than the Jedi. Eventually, one will cross our path if the Sith don't deal with them.”

The man got back up and fired, “Are they that tough?”

“Haha, you better believe it. One on one combat, you want to avoid at all costs.” Drey answered and took his turn.

He spotted a Republic trooper take a chance and rush ahead of schedule. When his ally rose for his turn, Drey’s hand shoved his head back down. The man went to curse at him, but a blaster shot narrowly missing his head. It silenced him. Drey turned back to his 'friend'.

“I think it’s time to switch up the pattern. Don’t want them picking us off, right?” He suggested.

“Right,” the merc said, catching his breath again. The shock poured into his stature, but Drey continued to ignore it. For the man, only gaining experience would change it.

“You toss a flash grenade and I’ll give you cover fire. Ready?”

The man nodded. Drey counted down on his fingers before he rose and opened fire. Several shots flew toward the enemy. The last few stranglers dropped down for cover again. A few mercs, seeing Drey’s aggression, joined in his attack. A firestorm provided the perfect cover. The young merc pulled the pin then tossed the flash grenade. Drey's hand jerked to cut his neck as a universal gesture to stop. All fire died down from his improvised team.

Seeing an opportunity, the enemy looked out from cover and aimed to return fire. A blinding flash followed by a deafening sound met them instead. Drey briefly ducked behind the metal crates until it died. He gestured for half of the mercs to advance before the rest started a new round of blaster fire on their targets.

Drey watched the surviving troopers slip into the nearest corridor. Once in a while, they stopped to fire causing Drey and his team to seek cover. Seven mercs had followed him into the upcoming storm. It became a shitty one soon enough. A human woman in her late twenties walked down the hall with purpose. Her hand pulled a metal cylinder into it. It hissed to life, a green blade of light at the end. A Jedi had arrived. She began to bat away the blaster shots, deflecting them into the walls or floor. A lucky shot almost hit a merc on occasion.

“Shit, fine.” Drey looked to the men.

“Open fire with everything you got, but aim for the allies, not the Jedi. She will hold back to protect her allies. Don't stop firing until they stop moving. One of you get a grenade ready and toss it at the Jedi’s feet. I’ll do the rest.”

They nodded then began to pour down a hail of fire on the small group. Drey pulled his helmet off. He needed the full range of sight for this shot. The earlier merc he befriended had gotten out a grenade and looked at him. He smiled then counted down from three.

Three.

Two.

One.

The explosive bounced toward the Jedi’s feet. Immediately the Jedi stretched out her hand to send it. She spotted Drey move into position too late. The aim to spread out her focus working perfectly.

As Drey pulled from cover, he aimed for the grenade. When the Jedi moved to throw it back, he had already fired twice. One-shot at the grenade, the other at her ally. Drey just smirked.

An explosion engulfed the Jedi and her allies. It sent their bodies into the far wall as they crumbled into the floor. When it died, Drey and his team continued. Drey stepped over the corpses. He paused at the Jedi's. He aimed his blaster rifle down and double-tapped. The Jedi's body twitched from the impact but it didn't move again. He couldn’t be too careful with these force users as he rushed to catch up with the other mercs.

[Deep Core, 6 ATC 4] Mission: Harvest Moon

Late arrival Drey Remun reporting in. I'm working on a post, but he'll have been there the whole time and with the main force of mercs. Aka, a face in the crowd for the moment. A perk of an Imperial trooper he can blend in until he decides not to. I just need time to sort out the scene in my head first for my post.

[Tython, 6 ATC 2] Lo and Behold

Lo Lya’Tre sighed. She rested her elbow on the bunk’s edge and rested her muzzle on her hand, her eyes scanned the room’s interior for a distraction. All her efforts failed. Her fur rippled from the boredom creeping into her mind. It battered at her wall and created fissures, allowing her worry to spill out. They swirled and spread outward. A blackness centered around her heart where it threatened to strangle it. Feeling the anxiety building, Lo closed her eyes.

She reached deep inside herself. Her breath inhaled then exhaled, letting the fear flow into the air. In and out, her mind focused on her breathing exercises. Slowly the dark thoughts faded with the passing minutes. It wouldn’t last, but for now, she had clarity in her thinking. A temporary peace. It frustrated Lo never to feel it for longer than a few hours a day. Every time she relaxed, a situation brought her negative thoughts to hound her. She hoped in time, she could better deal with her insecurities. For now, her efforts would have to be enough.

A spike of energy caused her foot to tingle and twitch. She glanced to the side and sighed, feeling her body become restless. Her mind turned to her internal clock. Though she lost track of the days, she still held onto the twenty-four hours in a day. According to it, Dai’s shift ended a few minutes ago. The human was a part of the crew and been Lo’s assigned bunkmate for the journey. Dai’s grumpy attitude had indicated she hated the idea of a bunkmate, in private soften toward Lo. This confused the young Bothan enough to ask Master Arv why. Master Arv, one of two Jedi knights that accompanied her from H’Ratth, had hinted it had to do with her age. This left Lo with mixed feelings on the matter. Still, she knew it didn’t hurt to be friendly.

Her thoughts were distracted when she felt her force sense tug at her. She turned her head in time to see Dai open the door and slide in, closing it behind her. The harsh expression melted into compassion. As she moved past Lo, the girl took the gentle pat on her head. Casually Lo turned about, watching her friend sit upon the bunk and rub her face.

“Everything all right?” Lo asked quietly.

Dai paused, peering one eye through her fingers. She sighed then dropped her hands to her lap. The hardened woman struggled with the right words before pouring out her thoughts in a blunt fashion.

“Yeah, I think. Just worried about your future is all. You’re so young and it’s hard to believe you’re a Padawan.”

"I don't look like it, but I am. I'm also proud to be a Jedi. I’m going to help the galaxy.”

Dai smiled, her hand raised to flatten out her hair back. “Just… be careful, okay? Maybe we’ll see each other from time to time.”

“I’m sure we will. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Good, night kid. I’ll see you around.”

“Night Dai.” With that parting phrase, Lo exited the bunk and searched for Jedi knights Typhis and Thorne.

“Lo, settle down. You’re more jittery than a wild nerf.”

Lo turned to look at Jedi Knight Typhis letting out a chuckle. She frowned, unsure what to reply to that. The Zabrak simply flashed her a reassuring smile. It revealed his sharp canines, but he had good intentions. She learned this on numerous occasions while riding the speeder bikes late into the evening. Tribal tattoos decorated the sides of his face down to his shoulder and she suspected also the arms. His skin took on a pale yellow color that reminded Lo of the desert pictures in the library. She found it rather pretty since it drew similarities to her lighter fur.

“You know he’s right. I rather not tell Master Rothul that you tie yourself into knots.” Jedi Throne joke, his amusement caused Lo to stop fiddling with her fingers.

“I’m sorry. I know I should be better, but I can’t stop.” Lo examined.

“It’s not something you can make stop, but learn to deal with. Just trust that in time, Master Rothul and you will learn the key to dealing with it.” Typhis sounded confident enough that Lo smiled.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Have faith, now prepare yourself. I believe we’re landing shortly.”

A loud rumbling deafened everyone in the shuttle as it began to land. Lo held onto the straps securing her into place. Her fur flattened against her body until the shuttle grounded to a stop. One by one, the two Jedi casually rose from their seats. Typhis gestured Lo to follow them toward the exit ramp. She nodded then hopped onto her feet, walking in their wake. The trio entered the docking bay while the staff brushed past, all of them working to unload the supply crates.

“Someone should be along to pick you up shortly. We have to make our reports and finish up other businesses. Try to relax, little Lo.” Throne encouraged as they left her alone.