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Messages - Kremon

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1

Sunday, 8:00 PM will work for me, I'll be there.

2

I should be able to make this Sunday evening, no problem.

3
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Redemption
« on: 09/02/17, 09:33:07 AM »
Only a short post this time around, but I felt inspired to write a chase scene involving some different choice of 'weaponry' so I came up with this. I hope you all enjoy!



Rell strode down the Corellian street with his hands in his pockets, making towards the Intergalactic Library a few blocks down from the rocket tram's station. He kept his hands in is pockets as he walked, taking care to keep watch on his surroundings. The cabal could still be around... Or the hundred other groups or organizations that could be looking to settle a score with Exephos. He had to be cautious.
As he watched though, he couldn't help but notice how picturesque Corellia was. The curves in the architecture, the constant presence of trees, bushes, or flowers, and the wide sweeping promenades just made an aesthetic that was easy on the eyes, and generally rather pleasing.
Of course, it was marred in places. Mismatched colours here and there where damaged buildings had been repaired, the occasional remaining blaster mark, and fenced off zones where bombardment or artillery fire had reduced entire blocks to rubble. A thought struck him; his father had probably fought on these very streets at one point or another in the battle for the planet. Coronet City had been the focus of much of the fighting, so it'd make sense. The very steps he was tracing now could be the ones that the troopers he'd talked to amongst the Ninety-Fifth had walked, seven years ago. Every bit of-
His thoughts came to a sudden halt as he realized that someone was following him. He'd caught sight of him in just a moment, a Human in a coat with a beard. He kept his pace steady and carried on in a different direction from the library. Could there be more of them? Who were they with? No, not important right now. There was a second; sitting down on a bench, reading a datapad, but his eyes were right on Rell.
Damn. He'd made eye contact. Did they notice?
The one on the bench set down the datapad and started reaching into his jacket.
They noticed.
Rell turned right and dashed down a side alley, hearing the sound of pursuers close behind. Think quick, think quick. The alley was a straight ascending slant towards the next road, with laundry hanging from a few lines, in addition to a few stacks of crates behind stores. As he sprinted along, he came to a pause and knocked a teetering tower of metal containers right into the path of a Twi'lek in front. It crashed down on top of him, but Rell didn't wait to see if it tripped up any more. He turned on his heel and continued to run, turning right back onto the streets.
He careened through crowds, knocking aside a few unfortunate bystanders on his rush past. Two blaster shots rung through the air, and with a curse, he ducked down and continued to sprint forwards with the shouts and screams of onlookers. A quick vault over a cafe table, before he ducked inside the diner itself to where a scowling waitress and gawking patrons were standing. He brushed past them, skirting around a chef carrying a bubbling cauldron of stew, as further blaster shots arced just overhead.
With a curse, he made his way inside, past a swinging door, where he found himself in a kitchen and looked around for a rear exit.
There were none.
"Damn it." He swore, grabbing a frying pan and ducking behind the door as a cook's assistant droid looked on. It wasn't long before a blaster peeked through the gap and a human pushed inside. With both hands, he smashed his pan into the back of his head which sent him stumbling forwards and dropping the blaster pistol. His assailant spun around with a clenched fist which he ducked beneath, then a second, before raising the bottom of his pan as a third blow came sailing around. With an audible crack and a squeal of pain, he reeled backwards, holding his hand to be promptly finished off with a blow to the side of the head with the sturdy metal implement.
A second one came charging in with a shout, blaster raised and starting to take aim. With a kick, Rell sent the door slamming into his arm, knocking it against the doorway, before rapping it with his frying pan, to which the offending blaster pistol was dropped.
He then grabbed the edge of the door and threw it open, swinging the pan upwards and catching the unfortunate attacker on the chin, throwing him off his feet with a metallic thud. Rell made his way back out into the restaurant just as yet another one came charging in with a blaster carbine. He threw his trusty pan at him, catching him right in the face, sending him reeling.
As he regained his footing, Rell ducked behind the counter as a spray of deafening blaster fire echoed in the interior, cutting holes through the counter just above his head. Glancing around as further blaster fire came a little closer, he grabbed a stack of plates and threw one at the shooter, clipping him in the ear to the sounds of a curse.
He threw a further five, first hitting him in the arm, then the chest, missing him twice as he dodged the ceramic projectiles, before getting smashed in the face with one and keeling over. He stood up a little straighter, looking around to see if there were any more. No more assailants, but plenty of carnage. Overturned tables, shattered plates and cutlery, a counter riddled with holes, and a perforated menu. With the whoop of emergency speeders becoming louder in the distance, he ducked out and quickly made off down the street. He'd have liked to have found out just who they were, but he got the feeling that he would probably never find out. So with his hands tucked into his jacket, he skulked as quickly and inconspicuously as possible towards the library off in the distance.

4

Looking back over my schedule again, I could make it to the same day, but it'd be later in the night, maybe two or three hours after Dancer's Palace has started.

5
Outside Realm / So, this is the beginning of a Goodbye.
« on: 08/30/17, 08:46:25 AM »

This day was coming up on my calendar, but that makes it no less difficult.
This is goodbye, for two years time.

I've decided to serve a religious mission, for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It was a decision I debated, but ultimately knew the eventual choice. Part of the standards that missionaries vow to uphold is to abstain from the distractions of the world, so... This will be a farewell until we meet again.

I'm hoping that in two years time, I'll come back and still find all you wonderful people still here, but since the passing of time is cruel, I must assume the worst and that this would be an adieu to you all for good. You are all wonderful people that I have come to love and have learned from over my time spent here. Be it highs or lows, Begeren Colony's always been there as a place for me to express my creativity and love for Star Wars.

In that time, I've come to make exceptionally good friends among you all, and I would hate to leave without some special remarks.

Seraphie - Your incredible. You host Palace Night, keep the decor constantly updated, arrange and GM numerous events, besides welcoming everyone to the site and being an all around magnificent hostess both on and off the site.

Noth - A while back you were having a hard time, but I'm happy to see your back on your feet. Your a great artist, and no matter how much the world knocks you around, keep on enduring, because your understanding nature is a joy to behold.

Karmic - You've always been a willing one to lend an ear and offer advice when someone's going through trouble. If ever there's ever a single person on the site expressing worries, it's a sure bet that your there to console and express kindness.

Niarra - If anyone's taught me anything about good writing and character development, it's been you. Don't kid yourself that your writing isn't good, it's fantastic. You've definitely got a talent for it, and I urge you to pursue it. I'd love to read a publishing of yours in future.

Mei - I only just got to know you through the recent storylines, but it's clear that you've got spunk and I like that.

LVT - Your a cool operator that always got my plots moving and my creative juices flowing one way or another. You always had a clear sense of right and wrong with them that I liked, and I want you to know that I appreciated that.

Nicohlas - For whatever reason, your constant attempts to convert my characters and others to the Imperial side reminded me of Starship Trooper... I always half expected you to say; "Would you like to know more?" But your a good organizer and great at keeping everything and everyone in the IWSC up to date.

Last but not least, Lolermelon - I've really only got one thing to say: Keep it wacky.

I still have a few days left, with the final date being 12th September. Until then, I hope to keep in touch with you all for as long as possible.

6

I probably won't be able to make it, unfortunately.

7
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Redemption
« on: 08/20/17, 05:21:53 AM »

Vilenor knelt on the floor of the Jedi Custodum, breathing in and out slowly, relaxing and letting the Force wash over him. One could not try and seek it to discover it all, but must let the Force wash over them, to immerse one's self in it, and to simply listen. Feeling the pull of the many songs and melodies that the Force brought. Sometimes it was the soft chanting of times of duty, other times it was a ferocious pounding drum that beat out the commitments that must be met, and sometimes it was peaceful... Just a comforting old tune playing out like a flute before his eyes. Right now, it was... Different. Tense. There was a rapid beat as the Force dictated out frantic, intense actions somewhere. He frowned during his meditation, attempting to pinpoint it, but he was not practiced enough to determine it's source.
Over time, the beat slowed, to a constant imminent drum that sounded the tune of unstoppable imminence. Something was happening, somewhere, he was sure of it.
Then just like that, it stopped outright.
The sudden silence of the Force jerked him out of his position and his eyes jumped awake.
No, it couldn't be...
He stumbled to his feet, fumbling in his haste for his lightsaber.
He emerged with it out onto the corridor, looking around, to find a temple guardsman hurrying past on silent feet.
"There's been an attack." The guardsman stated on his way past, before disappearing around the corner.
It was true.
Vilenor staggered back inside his quarters, dropping his lightsaber and falling to his knees.
The Colonel, gone? Impossible.

Shad'ra watched from the ridge, across the settlement that the Ninety-Fifth had established on Eva-Ca. It'd been wrought with challenges, but they'd done it. They had farms, homes, even a blacksmith and pub. From nothing, they'd been able to build themselves a community where they lived in peace, free from the wars of the galaxy. Everyone had said it couldn't be done, but they'd accomplished it.
If only Exephos could have experienced it.
But it was too late for him. Shad'ra had found out from some of his old contacts. The veteran was dead. He still didn't know how, and he partly didn't care The old war dog finally had his end, and he missed him, it hurt him to the core that Exephos was gone... But in a way, Exephos had been gone for the past ten years, just looking for a way to end it. He'd finally gotten his wish. A few people passed by, heads bowed in sorrow.
Of course, he'd let everyone else know. They had a right to the truth. He'd also gone looking for Rell, and he'd heard that he'd stopped at the Dancer's Palace, but until he got his message from him, there was no way to communicate with him.
Imler made his way up to Shad'ra, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"It's time." Were his only words.
Shad'ra nodded, before turning around and walking down a well-worn path in the jungle towards one of the metal smitheries where a crowd of people were gathering. Exephos might no longer have been their leader, but he'd been a mentor, a friend, and a savior for many of them. Saving his troop's lives from certain death, willing to risk it all to keep them alive. As they approached, Shad'ra put on his uniform cap, his Republic one. He normally preferred to avoid wearing his Republic dress uniform at all costs, but if Exephos didn't get a proper veteran's sending off with the rest of the galaxy, he'd get a proper send off among his own. An empty casket covered with a Republic flag stood atop a pedestal in the middle of the crowds, surrounded by the Ninety Fifth and their families paying their last respects to his name.
He stopped by it's side and regarded the casket among the hundreds of other observers as the scene fell quiet. As he considered Exephos being gone, he shunted away all the bad memories he had of him and focused on the good, considering them. The times they spent together, poring over tactical maps, reviewing new recruits, and having a laugh at the beginning of it all over the simple things. The victories for a cause they believed in, the occasions they'd try to tally up how much the other saved them. But in the end, Exephos never could put aside the war or the war couldn't put aside him. Whichever was the case, Shad'ra hoped he finally got his peace in the end.
He turned on his heel, facing straight.
"Honour guard... Ahent!" He commanded, falling into Old Corellian for Exephos's sake.
Five others in the Republic's uniform snapped to attention around the casket, before reaching down along with him and lifting the casket up onto shoulders.
"Ecspeti Marshato!" He ordered, to which they slowly marched forwards in time. Those gathered around fell in slowly behind as they wound their way inside the smithy's doors towards one of the furnaces. As they came up to the furnace they'd be using, surrounded by more people, he and the other honour guard bore the casket to it's edge, before he barked out a command:
"Halhi!"
They came to a stop, before setting the casket down before it.
Shad'ra stepped back, bowing his head momentarily before delivering the Old Corellian line:
"Urs kie Ihn Hom, Al viv kie heroo, Al morhi kie Ihn heroo."
He turned away, back towards the rest of the crowds.
"Exephos was a dutiful man, a man that gave life his best damn shot, and tried to only bring about the best for those he cared about. Sometimes he pushed away those he loved, other times, he harmed the very things closest to him. But in the end, he went out as he lived. A hero." He orated to those gathered, to solemn agreeing nods, and more than a few faces filled with tears.
"But let us set aside the past, and focus on the future. Exephos left us with his legacy, and it is our duty to preserve it for all generations." He finished, before turning back towards the casket.
Be it the Jedi's Force, a Corellian level, or the Mandalorian Manda, wherever Exephos was... Shad'ra said his last farewell before turning towards the side, at an individual waiting by the furnace doors.
He gave a subtle nod to him, to which he opened the doors, and the casket was slowly pushed inside.
With a sense of finality, they slowly rumbled shut behind it, and a hiss indicated the rush of flames within.
Goodbye, old friend.

Rell sat down on the bed and rubbed at his forehead. He'd gone to the Dancer's Palace looking for Shad'ra, he knew the man had been there in the past, but hadn't found him. What was he to do now? He'd fled here to Nar Shaddaa, leaving behind Coruscant and the Jedi Custodum, fearing that someone was going to come after him to finish the job. But noone had shown themselves.
He sighed, rocking back and forth on the bed with his head in his hand.
What did he do? Exephos was gone. Gone! Just like that, in a night, Rell's world was turned upside down. At first he'd thought to find Shad'ra, and try to get help from there, but he didn't know where to find him, or how to contact him. It was a dead end, and he needed to do something. Was there someone he could contact? No, he knew noone, and noone knew him. But he needed direction, he needed-
He paused in his thoughts as his gaze rested on his father's knife, sitting on the table across from him. It's pommel well worn but taken care of, a slimmer of the blade poking out, revealing the strengthened durasteel beneath. What was he thinking?
His father was a man who had done things of his own will, and hadn't let others control him. His last words to him had been to be himself, and to control his own fate. Rell stood and took the knife in his hands, pulling it out of it's sheath to reveal the well-made and deadly knife within. It was heavier than he thought, but it carried a weight far beyond that of it's construction. This blade had killed many, Sith included, and tortured some. He sheathed it and strapped it to his belt, before pulling on his gloves.
He would not let his father or his memory down. It was time to follow in his father's footsteps and be his own man, to stand on his two feet without another. With a moment's groping, he grabbed his jacket and put it on. But first... He would fulfill his father's wish, and go to Corellia's library, in search of a man named Hoid.
He was Rell Elon, the son of Exephos Elon, and he would bear that name with pride.

8
Storyboards / Re: "Hunting the Hunted"
« on: 08/17/17, 11:01:55 AM »

Gharzog made down the polluted cluttered street, now packed full of workers heading home or heading for the factories as the shift changed whilst off in the distance, there was the occasional echo of blaster fire. Ahh, Nal Hutta. This was his own turf, and he knew it's ins and outs like the back of his hand, right down to each street corner. He absently sidestepped around a Gamorrean enforcer pounding a worker in an alleyway, before carrying on.
His demand of choosing the rendezvous point with the pirates was truly a perfect move on his part. The home-side advantage was entirely his; he had contacts, knew the lay of the land, had extra gun-for-hires on call, in addition to the little stashes of his, like the kind under his arm. But besides that, he'd stalked the streets of Hutta for so long that he knew the feel of it. Every movement of the populace, the atmosphere of the day-to-day life on the street, the sounds of the marketplace in full swing, or the minor movements of air that betrayed a mugger's presence.
Gharzog stepped to the side, avoiding a knife aimed for his ribs from a local criminal. With a fluid motion, he drew one of his blasters and fired twice at the hip.
The shots rang out in the close quarters, rebounding off the packed urban development and creating a red flash. The first bolt he fired knocked the knife clean out of his hand, the second hitting him in the wrist. The criminal was a young lad, but he knew that didn't make him any less dangerous so he kept the blaster casually aimed on him, careful to keep the case tucked under that arm from falling down.
"Made a wrong move, 'ey?" Gharzog asked as the youth quailed and whimpered, holding his hand. He shoved his hat forwards to hang down low, before stepping forwards and grabbing a hold of the mugger's collar with his free gloved hand.
"Now listen 'ere, a'ight? 'Ye don't go robbin' locals, understand? 'Ye rob the tourists. Off-world businessmen, Evocii hunters, and the like. Them's the ones that deserve it." Gharzog explained, before letting him go and dusting off his shoulders.
"Now 'ye go get that hand looked at." He added, to which the shaky pale lad nodded and ran off.
He rarely shot local thieves and guttersnipes like that. Not only was it bad for business; turning the lesser elements of the underworld against you, but it weighed on his conscience. These were the little guys, trying to make a living in indecent conditions without much hope for a future. Seemed cruel to rob them of their lives after the corporate and Hutt types robbed them of everything else.
With that sobering thought in mind, he turned and carried on his way without incident into the swamps, whereupon the town abruptly ended with a thick wall, manned by trundling Gamorreans that roamed about with blasters and axes. He had never figured out how to speak Gamorrese, though he could generally grasp what they trying to say or do. Perhaps for that language barrier, Hutts liked to keep them on the borders of their little empires, or outside their palaces, though the smell could also have something to do with it.
As it was, he soon found himself off the beaten path, up to his knees in murky sludge that was probably better left unidentified with dense misty fog hanging low over the ground. His stout clothing prevented him from feeling the worst of it, but he always swore that he could taste the bitterness of the air through the high quality filter, or that he could feel just a tinge of the burning acid through the protective clothing. But he supposed, or hoped, that was just his fancy. The location he'd chosen was near one of the many old pubs out here, the kind that did lively business, especially in times of cartel warfare, since they were always neutral ground when they were out in the middle of nowhere like this. But a huge refinery with towering chimneys had set up nearby, so the toxic acid had come in, and the patrons went out.
Now the whole area was left untouched by most, though some of the local hunters came in to get chemilizard hides. There were a couple out today, three or four massive speeder-sized reptiles sunning themselves in one of the acid lakes. He kept his distance from them, edging around to a stand of trees on a mostly solid island where he planned on stashing his gear. A quick look around for an appropriate place, before he wedged the case solidly beneath two tree roots that formed an overhang. That ought to do it.
As he was turning away though, he came to an abrupt halt and became as still as the trees around him. He'd caught sight of two figures on the edge of a ridge line. Could be hunters after the chemilizards not far off, or it could be brigands looking to make a quick cred off his gear. As it was, he remained completely still. The fog hanging over the environment would make it difficult to pick out details down here, he knew that much, but movement was a sure way to give his position away. Whoever they were, they must have arrived after he had.
Perhaps they were hired guns of Ke'rii's, here to gun him down? No, they'd have opened fire by now. But perhaps some of his lackeys, here to set up their own preparations?
How did he play this? Go in, make them know he was here and watching them? Or hang back from a distance, and try to observe. He chewed it over for a moment, thinking. Kriff it. He'd reveal his presence, but on his own terms.
He slowly edged down low, before moving in a slow cautious crouch around the ridge, careful to keep behind rolls in the land and trees. Hopefully, the slow movement and the dark clothing he was wearing would make him look like a shadow in the fog, or a chemilizard trudging along... A small one, that is.
After a few tense minutes of edging around, he was behind where he saw the two figures. He edged up closer, behind a fern so that he could see them. Both female, and both seemingly Human. One big, huge, muscular giant that looked like she could snap Houks between her hands, and no breathing mask or hazmat gear. The other was smaller, more average sized, he supposed? In a galaxy punctuated by millions of species, he didn't really know what an average size was. But she was in off-world hazmat gear and wearing a mask. Tourist, for sure. Actually, she looked familiar, though the clothing was pretty baggy and the mask obscuring so he couldn't quite tell.
“-ot enough, let's get this back to Ke so he can analyze it, and we'll let him tell his agent what he's got.” Definitely working for Ke'rii then, that answered one of his questions. This was going to be interesting.
Bracing himself for possible conflict, he tightened his breath mask, ensured his goggles were on properly, adjusted his hat, then stepped out onto the ridge.
"Well now. Ain't this 'ere just a lovely view, 'ey?" Gharzog said, peering out at the two of them from beneath the brim of his hat. Yes, this was going to be very interesting.

9
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Comments on Stories
« on: 08/14/17, 05:48:10 AM »

I'm glad you all enjoyed the final chapter to Exephos's story, it was definitely a hard one to decide on and figure out how to best write it, but I'm looking forwards to the opportunities it opens. Also, Noth, I should mention that it is on Custodum grounds and that the details of the attack could definitely found out through the recordings.

Spoiler: show
But now with Exephos's death and the killing of the last of the cabal's most loyal, it ties up his entire storyline, save for one or two loose ends. I'm not sure how to proceed from here, but I've got a few ideas.

10
Storyboards / Re: The Rumor Mill
« on: 08/13/17, 03:50:12 AM »

Dela took a seat at her desk following her lunch break, swiveling around to face her terminal screen. Around her, at least a hundred others were similarly absorbed in various office tasks, of reading and reviewing dossiers, typing out reports, or updating databases. It was the cog behind the cog behind the cog which kept the Republic Military running. Her personal job was to review personnel records and correct discrepancies, though there were perhaps a hundred others fulfilling the same role across the various branches, maybe even thousands, because it was impossible for one person to review millions of files on soldiers. As it was, she was falling behind a bit, she'd need to work extra hours this evening if she was to catch up with the workload. With a sigh, she booted up the terminal and delved into it. The first thing she saw was an immediate alert about a file that'd been classified as high risk. The computer probably detected some minor flaw in a general's history that needed correcting. It was always an overly sensitive system.
She opened the file in question, to find the following generated message:

[ERROR - DISCREPANCY DETECTED - MODERATOR APPROVAL REQUIRED]
_______
_______
_______
[FILE - EXEPHOS - CLASSIFIED MATERIAL - SHOWING ONLY DISCREPANCY]
Status: Alive [SYSTEM CORRECTION STATUS - KIA]
_______
_______
_______
[APPLY SYSTEM CORRECTION?]


Dela furrowed her brow at the terminal screen, undecided. She'd heard of Exephos of course, seen him on the news and even once in person, stalking the hallways of the headquarters. He was surrounded by murky rumours and fanciful legend. It was impossible to tell how much was true and how much was false, but she'd try to find out why the system had pegged him with this new status. She accessed the database, scrolling through the terminal's line of entries before coming to the process which had classified the new status. It was saying that it had received it's information from a new line of data in a separate database. She furrowed her brow once more, opening up access to the other system link, trying to find out who had input the data. Only to be rebuffed by an [Access Denied] screen. She checked the classification code to see if she needed to input authorization, but it was marked with a Special Forces Black-Ops access code, one she'd never run across before.
She furrowed her brow further at this. This was definitely going to have to be seen by her supervisor. She rattled off a copy of the discrepancy report on flimsi, before walking over toward this branch's managr, Captain Keely. A knock on the door was followed by a prompt "Enter!", so she headed in to the spartan accommodations. A desk, with two chairs before it, and a few banners on the wall. There wasn't even a window.
"Good afternoon, sir. I've come across something that I'm not quite sure what to make of." She addressed, proffering the sheet of flimsi. With a quick gesture, he took it and read it over, did a double take then read it again.
"I'm going to need to call up the chain... Return to another file, Mrs. Dela." He said, already reaching for his holocomm. She nodded and headed out. Whatever it was about, she wanted no part of it. Way above her paygrade, and probably for the best that someone else worked it out.



Rumours have begun to quickly spread across the Republic's military and government system that Exephos, recent controversial figure to appear before the Senate, is dead. It remains unfounded with authorities trying to unravel the truth and find evidence, but many of the troopers he fought alongside or met with are already beginning to grieve the loss of the veteran.

11
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Redemption
« on: 08/12/17, 08:46:00 AM »
So, I had an original plan for this storyline...
Then I decided to change it. Enjoy.



"Things have spiraled out of control!" Captain Delinor swore, surveying what few assets they had left of their operation. In one fell blow, Exephos had destroyed everything. He didn't know how, but he'd wiped out all of the leadership and removed the access the network had to the advantages of the entire Republic. Gone was the command over entire divisions and fleets. Now he was looking at a hangar filled with a few shuttles, a few crates of weaponry and a handful of cases of armour.
He had no direction, no orders, no idea of where to go. His life of control over entire elements of Republic Special Forces was over. All he had left was five squads that remained loyal to the true pillar behind the Republic's might. Everyone else had fled the organization like escape pods fleeing a destroyed ship. Abysmal.
All because one man, one kriffing man, hadn't fallen in line and done like he was told. Exephos.
That son of an akk hound had done this.
He didn't know where he was now, or even if the bastard was still alive, but he'd get him. He'd destroy his reputation, destroy him to his very core, and he knew just how to go about it.

"At target location now." Ferill reported in through his comms, one hand holding the rope holding him aloft via his abseiling rig. Around him, five others were similarly arranged in full black-out armour. It was expensive kit, equipped with infared and thermal scopes, advanced energy disruption plating, securely encrypted comms with a wavelength varifier, and magnetically sealed plating to ensure an utterly impenetrable vacuum-proof set.
"Copy that. Proceed as planned, and remember, no heroics on this one, Exephos is damned dangerous, and that's not helped by being surrounded by Jedi. Make it quick and clean. Avoid other casualties. Delinor out." Delinor replied from the other end, before clicking off. It was up to him and his squad now to take down the old veteran.
"We've got the all clear. Jam alarms and set up to breach." Ferill quietly ordered through the whisper sensitive commlink system. One of his squadmates moved over to the window and set up a small cylindrical device on a pane whilst another accessed security protocols through a datapad. None of them knew each other's names, backgrounds, or service history. Sometimes it made things difficult in getting orders done... But it kept operations entirely confidential. Nobody knew anybody, which meant that no-one could compromise the other's security. Personally, he didn't like it, but orders were orders, and his logical side acknowledged that it was better this way.
"Breach." He stated, to which the earlier small device was activated, and a thin laser carved through the pane in a neat circle. Once it'd completed it's arc, repulsorlifts activated, slowly hovering the cut circle out of it's frame, before deactivated and sending the circle of transparisteel tumbling kilometers down below. Meanwhile, the other three on standby swung inside, checking the interior. Normally, they might have set off motion sensors or the window's built in alarm, but thanks to their slicer who was still perusing the building's security with a datapad, they weren't sounding any alerts and bringing Jedi down on them. As it was, they still had to account for their Force-sensitivity. It was damned difficult. He'd infiltrated Sith compounds before... One just had to move quickly, quietly, and and get out fast.
"Clear." A squadmember whispered.
He moved into the room, which was some sort of library or data repository. Empty at this time of night which was fortunate, but he didn't want to push his luck. He made his way through the maze of data stores before coming up to the main door where he was joined by the rest of his squad. With a gesture, they stacked up before he palmed open the door. It opened quietly, and he turned out onto a main corridor, checking his area for any targets. Fortunately, there were none. That was lucky, but that luck was bound to run out.
"Start checking guest rooms. We only want Exephos, disregard anyone else." Ferill commanded.
"Roger." Was the unanimous response as they split up into three pairs and began checking lifesigns through the cracks in the door. It was revolutionary new tech; stick a thin sensor strip through even the smallest crack in a door, and it'd scan the adjacent room for lifesigns, before relaying back their specific details. Since they had a sample of Exephos's DNA from his service file, it was an easy matter to just scan the room and compare it to his. If it was a match, they killed everyone inside, then left.
He made his way up to one of the rooms, shoved the scanner through a tiny space in the door, and activated it, waiting. A buzz once; no matches. A quick hustle along to the next door, closely followed by his matching companion. A quick push in, a short moment, another buzz. One more door on his side of the corridor to check. Another jog along, and a quick press into a gap. Another buzz. Nothing on his side.
"Got a positive." Someone reported in.
He turned and moved quickly over next to him, stacking up on the doorway.
"Alright, here's what we do. That door opens, we blast everything, confirm a kill, then exfil. I want it all over in two minutes tops." He said, explaining the plan.
"Roger." Once again the standard reply.
"All ready?... Breach!" He ordered.
The door whooshed open and they opened fire, spewing blaster rounds inside. Tearing up the bedding, display cases, a banner, and everything else in sight. After a few seconds, they ceased fire to a smoking room. With blaster rifle raised, the breachman entered inside and yanked off the perforated sheets, revealing... Nothing. When suddenly a darkish shape detached itself from the roof and dropped down on the breachman, a glinting knife brandished. A clatter of plates, the distinctive snapping of bones, and he was on the floor.
"Kriff! Fire! Fire!" He commanded, opening up with his blaster rifle. But the attacker rolled beneath the firing area, before being right in among the squad. With one hand, he grabbed a soldier by the leg and flung him to the side at one of his comrades, before snatching up his rifle and gunning down the whole group.
He fired a staccato of shots, clipping their aggressor in the shoulder but that only seemed to make him madder. The towering giant swung the rifle into the side of one of his squadmate's head and there was a distinctive snapping sound as his neck broke.
In only a moment, it was just him and the giant, who was now revealed in the light... Exephos.
"Son of an akk hound!" He swore, ejecting his wrist blade and stabbing forwards, to only get a blow in the face as Exephos's left arm spun around and hit his visor. The helmet stopped the blow but he stumbled backwards at the ferocious impact. He tried to get his rifle up and aiming, but the old veteran stomped forwards and grabbed him by the throat.
With a roar, he spun and tossed him out... Through a window.
Ferril felt the transparisteel shatter around him as he plummeted downwards.
Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!
A sudden thought struck him; he'd wanted it all over in two minutes... In a way, he got his wish.
Then an impact, searing pan, and that was the end.

It was clear that the Custodum was no longer safe for Exephos. He and Rell had to leave, the sooner and quieter, the better. He didn't like going back on the Jedi, but if it was clear that the cabal was still around and that they could not protect his son, he'd need to take measures into his own hands. But first, he needed to make sure that they were exposed. He strode quickly and quietly down the carpeted corridor whilst Temple Guards swarmed the scene  towards where Jess Gervani was staying. To keep things quiet, he reached into the crack of the door and eased it open between his gloved hands.
Inside, he could see Jess poring over the piles of flimsi that he'd heard had been taken from the hypertower where Rell was being kept. She had her back to him, so he crept up behind her. He must have made a rustle, or she had a instinct to look back, because she glanced over her shoulder and just briefly exclaimed, before he cupped a hand over her mouth.
"Quiet. I'm not here to harm you." He hissed.
She nodded slowly, to which he took his hand off her mouth.
"The files, are they enough? Can you expose the organization?" He asked, glancing between her and the documents laid out on the table.
"I think so. There's at least enough to start an investigation, which is the last thing a secretive cabal wants." She replied, turning back towards the neat notes she'd been typing out on datapads.
"Publish all of it." He quietly stated.
"All of it?" She asked, somewhat incredulously.
"All of it." He reaffirmed, before turning and heading back through the door just as quickly as he'd come. He went looking for Rell, who he was glad to find dressed and ready.
"We're going, come quickly." Exephos told him.
"But what about the Jedi-"
"They clearly can't protect themselves, let alone you. I know a place, down in the Works..."

He slammed the elevator cage door closed and sent it down as blaster bolts hissed past above. They'd found them, quicker than he'd expected. Perhaps they knew about this place of his in the Works, perhaps they just had eyes watching the many cameras in Coruscant city. He didn't know, but one thing was clear, they were coming for him and his son.
All he had wanted was peace. A chance for some quiet before he kicked the bucket. But this organization wouldn't let him go. He'd destroyed it's leadership, put it on the run, and made preparations for it's lies to be revealed to the galaxy. So he guessed that if anything, they were going to end the one who'd torn them apart.
He glanced across the small rattling elevator at Rell, his son. He shouldn't be involved in all this, running from shadowy cabals, evading blaster fire, and fighting for his life. It wasn't right, and it was all his fault. If there was one thing he could do right in his life... It was going to be getting his son out alive, to live a normal carefree existence, free from the guilt of wars and the marring of one's very soul by heinous acts and senseless murder. He made a promise to himself then and there. His son would get that life, no matter the cost.
"Rell, listen to me closely." Exephos said, getting the lad's attention, having his eyes, his mother's eyes, reach up and hold his gaze.
"You stay behind me. We're getting through this, don't you worry." He assured, as the rickety old elevator arrived at his old facility. A place of such pain and suffering, of his own inflicting... No matter, it would serve as a sanctuary if only for a little while now.
"Quickly." He stated, strolling down the corridor and into the first junction. A quick glance at the electronics control box, before he opened the lid to reveal the many gauges and switches therein. What was it again? Backup, then auxiliary generators, before primary? No, the backup fizzled out the last time he'd been here. Go straight to auxiliary. He turned a lever to the side, before snapping down a switch. The lights powered on, dazzlingly bright in the dark interior.
"Go around the corner, and wait there! I'll be right behind you!" He said towards Rell, before looking back at the entry shaft and placing his hand on one of the mechanism's grips. There was a couple things he could do to slow them down, to buy he and Rell a little more time.
The rickety old lift descended again, soldiers in black rig clearly evident through the metal grille. With a grunt, he slammed the lever up, disengaging the lift's brakes. It screamed out of sight as gravity took a hold of it, straight down to the planet's core. But that was far from all of them, more hitmen came into view on abseiling rigs, raising blasters to fire down the corridor.
"Kriff!" He swore, drawing his sidearm and blasting two of them down, before ducking for cover as the control box was destroyed in a hail of fire.
He wasn't finished yet. Ducking out from his cover, he fired away, scything into three more before a shot hit him in the shoulder, closely followed by another in the side. He fell to one knee, breathing out heavily. Come on, he'd been through worse than this. He had to keep going, keep fighting!
With a roar, he rose to his feet and blasted one clean off his rig, sending him plummeting down below. As more green blaster bolts arced inside, Exephos blasted the door shut, before frying the mechanism. After that, he turned and hustled down the corridor, one arm holding his side.
"Your injured!" Rell exclaimed as he came around the corner, a blaster in hand.
"I'm fine. Come on, back to the security room!" He returned, striding into the dusty security station. With the power on, the security monitors were up and running, giving him a perfect view of the five squads arranged out on the entry shaft platform, cutting their way in.
"Watch the doorway." He told Rell, before opening up the security programs and running a diagnostic check. The turrets were offline, as were some of the traps. But many remained operational. He could work with this, could thin them out. Quick tapping on the keys to place the systems on standby, before he made for a switchboard set in the middle of the room. If there was any place he had a home advantage on, it was here. He'd designed this facility himself; he knew every square meter of it.
So as the first team broke through the heavy duty primary door, he thumbed a button on the board, opening up the floor beneath them and sending them plummeting into darkness. As a second group came past that, and entered the junction, he flicked three switches up, frying them into literal ash with an arc generator.
When the brave third group came up to the security room's door, he ratcheted a lever down, activating ray shielding that slowly began closing in on them.
He didn't watch the results, only gesturing for the wide-eyed Rell to follow him out the other door and down the corridor where a few of the old traps were activated from when he'd used them when his 'hunters' were down here. Foolish, now that he looked back at it. Very foolish.
As they rounded the corner though, blasterfire kicked up from the other side. They'd gone around the other way and not through the security room. Damn, these black-ops squads moved fast. Shoving Rell back, he fired a blaze of rounds, hitting two through their visors. One of their shots clipped him in the arm, causing him to drop his blaster with a curse.
As they closed in, blaster rifles raised, Rell stepped around the corner and let loose with a volley of shots that knocked them off their feet. Exephos wasn't going to let that opening go, he charged forwards with his knife brandished, cutting down through the neck chink of one of the soldiers. With his cybernetic left hand, he slammed a balled fist into another's chest, smashing the armour into shrapnel and breaking ribs. As another member of the squad raised his rifle to open fire, he used his knife to catch the end of the barrel and thrust it over to the side, hitting one of his fallen comrades. Right before he pulled his arm back and stabbed him thrice in the leg joint. Another blaze of blasterfire behind him, and the last soldier fell dead with a smoking hole in his visor.
"Come on!" He yelled towards Rell, before racing down the corridor junction towards the holding cells and interrogation lab itself. There were horrific memories here, terrible acts that he'd committed in the name of the Republic. Some of the acts he'd committed still sickened him. But not Dershoi or Antileen, oh no, they'd gotten what was coming to them. The latter was actually still down here, stuffed into a body bag by one of the furnace chutes. A little tidbit for the akk dogs of the organization to find, if they survived getting through his traps.
With Rell in tow, he ran past the holding cells where one could practically taste the despair in the air before heading towards a data room. It'd been largely destroyed and wiped by both the passage of time and the hunting party that'd come through here, but there was still a fairly large amount of fairly useless data still kept on the drives. Outdated intelligence for example, reports on logistics and troop movements - From ten years ago.
They made straight through this, towards his office at the other end of the facility. He had full control over the lab from there, in addition to an escape route through a hidden reinforced doorway.
As the shouts of more hit-teams echoed behind them, Exephos really thought that they'd both make it.
A burst of blaster fire rent through the air.
In an instant, he knew he was hit, and he knew it was bad.
He fell forwards into the office, to the sounds of further muffled blaster fire. With an agonizing effort, he crawled forwards past the doorway, before slamming the door shut with a fist on the panel.
"-ather! Are you alright!? How bad is it!?"
In the past he'd been injured grievously, but by the intense burning in his chest, he knew his luck'd run out.
"Your bleeding bad, just- Just hang on! There's got to be a medical kit in here!" Rell cried out, looking in various compartments along the wall frantically.
His boy. He was so proud of him.
But he knew that he wasn't making this one.
"Rell..." He croaked, gesturing for him to come to him.
"Just tell me what to do! We can fix this!" Rell exclaimed, tears beginning to gather beneath his eyes.
"This is the end of the road for me, Rell. But-"
"No, no! You can't die! You can't!" He sobbed.
"Listen to me, Rell. Listen!" Exephos ordered, grabbing a hold of his arm.
"I wish we had more time, but fate and my own mistakes have stolen that away. I have three things to tell you, my son..." He coughed out a spat of blood, before gripping his boy's arm with renewed vigor.
"First... Always, ALWAYS choose your friends and family first, understand? You can never bring them back. Do you understand?" He asked, to which Rell shakily nodded.
"Second. Never let your guard down. We... Have many enemies in this galaxy, and there are many that would take advantage of you. Don't let that happen. Remain your own true self."
He paused to draw in a breath.
"Third... You are the last surviving member of our family line, bear our name well, Rell Elon, and go knowing that I am proud of you."
"I won't leave you." Rell returned, shaking his head with tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You must! My time ended long, long ago. It's time for you to carry on this legacy! Go beneath the desk, there is a panel there which leads to a tunnel which will take you to safety! Go to Corellia, to the Intergalactic library and find Hoid, he will tell you everything you need to know! Now, you must go!" Exephos shouted, sticking his holstered knife in his hand and shoving him off towards the desk with his last bit of strength.
"But-"
"No buts, you must go now! I will buy you time, just move as quickly as you can!" He commanded, to which Rell tearfully nodded and went to the desk, where he pried open the escape tunnel.
"Father... I love you." Rell said, locking his eyes with his the last time.
"And I love you, my son. Now you must leave!"
To which his boy, the only reason he had left for life, left.
Once he was sure he was gone, Exephos pulled himself along to his desk, before heaving himself into his chair, using it as support. The desk's terminal displayed the security monitors, showing as the hit teams moved through the facility towards his office. His hands settled on the chair's armrests, as he sat surrounded by the past. Some of his old awards hung on the wall, victory crosses, service stars, even a Chancellor's commendation. Looking back now, he would have given them all up for his family. He had been so foolish.
He was tired of running, tired of having to constantly deal with his past in his life and in his dreams.
But now, it was time to finally end this.
Boots rattled down the corridor, shouts echoing through the ventilation ducts. With a sigh that broke down into a cough, Exephos unlocked a drawer in his desk as a plasma torch's beam poked through the metal door. He typed in a six digit code, which unlocked a further box, wherein lay a detonator. The beam continued it's circle, as he reached inside and flicked up three unused switches, before grabbing a detonator. The entire facility was rigged to blow, a last resort, and one he'd never imagined he'd have to use. Selina... He would see her soon.
The beam finished it's cut, before it was kicked inwards. Black-armoured figures rushed in, blasters raised to fire.
"This one's for my boy." Exephos stated, before clicking down the detonator.
A distant resonance rumbled for a brief second, then a brilliant flash, and it was over.

12
Storyboards / Re: "Hunting the Hunted"
« on: 08/11/17, 09:55:12 AM »

Gharzog adjusted his coat, tightening it against Nal Hutta's climate as the shuttle neared the surface. He was off on another 'field trip' as it were. He was certainly taking more and more liberties with leaving Ke'rii alone in the Dancer's Palace, though at this point, he supposed it was too dangerous for the man to leave. By now, every two-credit hired gun with a lick of sense on the Smuggler's Moon had to know he was hiding out in the Dancer's Palace, but that was most definitely not the place to go staging a grand assault, eight million credit bounty or not. Not only were the security systems top of the line, putting some Galactic Banks to shame, but the owners also had some friends with the Hutt Cartel, which could make life very, very painful if you ticked them off.
So he should have nothing to fear from the captain leaving the planet. That hadn't stopped him from leaving an informant out on the Palace docks though, with a hefty pocket of credits to comm him if Ke'rii tried to leave. Perhaps he was overly cautious, but he still didn't entirely trust the man, and he was too far along to lose him now.
As it was, he needed to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.
The shuttle was packed full of workers, managers, couriers, and many others of various species heading for the polluted world for various methods of business. No-one ever went there for vacation or to shop at the markets, no every person here had a specific task in mind, which was important to avoid being eaten alive by the criminal underworld... Or by the vicious predators.
Some people liked to charter private shuttles, or use their own ships. He'd considered purchasing a liner and renovating it for his own purposes once he got some credits together, but in the end, he did away with that idea. Travelling on public vessels not only gave him the excellent ability to travel quite incognito, but also gave him free shielding. No sane person would fire on an entire vessel full of innocents, and if they were to board, he'd have far more hiding places and areas to blend in.
The shuttle's exterior hissed as it entered the smog-filled atmosphere, causing him to double check his rebreather mask's tightness, sealed his gloves, ensured that his trousers were tucked into his boots, before strapping on a pair of goggles. His clothing had been constructed out of a good sturdy local material which could repel the planet's toxins, a very handy thing to have when he conducted most of his business on the surface and usually having to track down fugitives through it's dangerous swamps. He technically wouldn't need the protection quite yet though. The shuttle was landing in one of the urban areas, where instead of killing you in twenty minutes, or less, the 'pleasant ambiance' would kill you in twenty years. The factories were filtered, as were some of the more well to do businesses and homes, but the average life expectancy for a worker on Nal Hutta was very, very short. Especially because if the toxic waste or daily industrial accidents didn't get you, the criminals or psychos would.
With a jolt, the shuttle touched down on Nal Hutta's surface.
He unbuckled his harness, before making for the shuttle's door where one of the heavily armed Nikto shuttle stewards had already opened the door. He held a scattergun in his hands and wasn't watching the passengers leaving, but the various individuals on the outskirts of the unguarded landing pad. Nal Hutta was a horrid, putrid place that many residents were desperate to get off of. It was actually common for disgruntled groups of workers to try and storm the shuttles to seize control of them and get off the polluted worlds. Some people actually succeeded, but more often then not, it led to their deaths. Poor rubes.
He stepped off the shuttle, before heading straight for the residential warrens of the factory town, in the opposite direction of most the other passengers. Today, he was stashing equipment for the battle ahead. A fairly simple affair that simply involved moving one of his carepackages from Point-A to Point-B. But he didn't trust that simple task to someone else, not that he worried about being betrayed, but he needed to know where it would be within an inch, just in case. There had been times in the past where he'd nearly died because someone else had stashed his equipment, and he hadn't been able to find it in the dark. A repeat of that, with the stakes so high? Not something he wanted to experience.
He looked around the warrens as he made for one of his many safehouses. Tightly packed in housing for cheap, allowing the Hutts to stuff thousands of workers into a small place. Perfect employment rates for the factories just a walk away. A quick sidestep around a shouting gunman chasing an Evocii down the street, before he stepped down into an alleyway. He carefully counted out ten paces, before turning immediately to his right and sifting away some of the dust and rubbish on the ground. There, flush with the street surface was a sealed trapdoor. It was marked with faded warning signs for electricity in Basic and Huttese, along with a fake junction number. To the observer, it'd appear to be just another accessway to the wires running beneath the streets. But in reality... He dialed the code on the manual five digit locking lug, before it popped open and he dropped down inside, taking care to close it shut behind him. The interior was not an electrical cable room, but one of the many hiding places he had around the planet. It was small, but had the essentials. A small bed in the corner, a shelf stocked full of supplies, a filtration system to keep out toxins, and a wall full of blasters and the odd weapon he'd accumulated.
For this job, he'd want some heavy firepower. So he took a duffel bag and stuffed it with a handful of grenades, two extra blaster pistols, a scattergun, and one of his large bore blaster rifles which he used for taking down lizards and mining droids. He considered bringing a military-grade flamethrower, the kind that could melt through armour which he'd nicked off a run-in with a now-dead Mandalorian, but decided to leave it behind. Too noticeable, and he could always rely on his wrist-mounted version if the pirates got in too close.
Satisfied with the gear he had, he clambered back out of his little bunker, before making off towards the site he'd chosen for the battle. Once there, he'd arrange his gear as appropriate, and hopefully, not run into anyone else that had the same idea of preparing the battleground...

13
Storyboards / Re: "Hunting the Hunted"
« on: 08/04/17, 09:05:36 AM »

"Ubaba… Can't say I've heard of him, but Nal Hutta isn't exactly familiar ground for me.” Ke'rii replied. Could he be lying, and he really did know the Hutt? Not likely, otherwise Ubaba would have goons every fifty meters on Nar Shaddaa looking to get a cut of the eight million credit bounty, which may or may not exist. If there was one thing Hutts didn't have in their anatomy, that was loyalty. Friendship went to the highest bidder; end of story. No, Ke'rii was definitely out of the lurch when it came to Nal Hutta. That was Gharzog's ground.
Then he noticed that Ke'rii was messaging someone. Was it his new friend, Lara? Or someone else, this agent alluded to by the slip of the tongue made earlier? Could be. He'd need to be careful of that connection.
“And don't worry, I'm not lookin’ to stir up any trouble for you. This'll strictly be recon." Ke'rii added.
Oh, of course... He also would not go around snooping for information and setting up traps simply on his word.
No, Ke'rii definitely had other plans. Ones that he did not figure would be for Gharzog's good. Perhaps he'd best get into contact with some of his informants on Hutta... Let them know to start keeping a look out for the captain's friends...

14

I'm looking forwards to this one alot, and I already have an idea for what I'd use it for. Balmorra; returned to a height of warfare with the war-scarred planet being subject to another focal point of both sides. To keep up with the constantly moving front lines, the Republic establishes a mobile fortress aboard the tracks. Anti-air cannon, heavy duty blaster turrets, maybe even a few artillery/rocket pieces.
It's sole purpose being to provide mobile fire support and house the troops required to defend it, as well as mount offensives. Similar to what Nicohlas described but with a focus on firepower.

Could be an area of roleplay for Republic military, visiting Jedi/diplomats, or perhaps an armoured and very well armed transport between one of many of Balmorra's weapons factories.

15
Storyboards / Re: "Hunting the Hunted"
« on: 07/28/17, 10:41:47 AM »

With crossed arms, Gharzog listened to Ke'rii's explanation of the pirate's worth in wealth. Useful and valuable were two very different things, but he decided not to mention that. After all, one could wage a bit of wanton destruction with enough outdated turbolasers or even mass drivers and the firepower was definitely useful to have around. But that wouldn't make them valuable. No, he was hoping for some treasure trove of equipment. These pirates were the private type, not really the kind to land at a place like Rishi and blow through their earnings in a few days given their different... Tastes. So perhaps there was a stash of credits somewhere aboard one of the ships. Otherwise, it'd be back to his fallback plan.
“Say, um, Alara’s gotta head out to Jiguuna for me still. You mind passing along the coordinates to our location there? Would like for her to do a bit of reconnaissance so I have some idea goin’ in, you know? Don't want a fella blind when he ought to have your back.” Ke'rii stated.
Now, that was a question, wasn't it? Give him the exact location, and allow him the opportunity to possibly set a trap for him, or withhold it and have him completely blind to the exact terrain until before they went in. It was a tough decision, because on one hand, he very much enjoyed being alive and would prefer that he didn't get shot to hell by a betrayal, but on the other hand, he needed Ke'rii alive if it was necessary for him to cash him in to Goruba. What kind of assets did the captain have that he could possibly set up an ambush? There was this new player, this Lara figure. She could possibly set one up, she certainly didn't like him much. Could Ke'rii have access to Imperial resources? No, no. Surely not. He'd have used them by now. Could he perhaps have hired local help? Maybe, but his informants on Nal Hutta would pick out hired guns off their turf pretty quick and could let him know in advance.
Kriff it. He might as well let him know.
"It's a place out in the swamps, Riicki's tavern, though they don't serve anything there anymore. Closed a coupla years back, 'ye know? It's near Ubaba's palace. Look 'im up. You'll find it pretty quick. He runs 'bout a fifth of the business on Nal Hutta, aye? I also 'appened to bargain for his help, so don't 'ye tick 'im off." He explained, dropping a word of caution at the end about Ubaba. No, the last thing he needed right now was for someone to throw off his carefully balanced deal with the Hutt.

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