Tear
Mar 31st, 2004, 04:30:17 AM
( /OOC: This is open to Two Jedi, preferably two who are working together.)
Almania. A planet whose people were not unfamiliar with the terrors the universe could inflict on them. Yet the sorrow and despair they felt was just as great each time as it had been before, the saying what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger in this sense, doesn’t apply.
Most people to have some misfortunes fall upon them at one point and would ask, why me? Most of the time the reasons were apparent and clear even for those asking the question. The people on Almania on the other hand…do have good reason to ask why? Their planet lays far into deep space on the outer rim. So far in fact that even the galactic empire when it did reign supreme chose to ignore it and its three moons, Pydyr, Auyemesh, and Drewwa. A total of two massacres lay dusty in the Almanian past. Once under a regime that oppressed its people and hung the dead bodies of any whom would defy them on the palace walls. Under that regime came revolution and war that also claimed many lives, but at least they were now free? Not so, their leader turned mad massacred the oppressors and any that stood in his way, leaving only one thousand hand picked Almanians to survive the holocaust. This was not the end of the overlord’s reign though. Before the New Republic finally moved to end his bloody reign the overlord managed to murder the entire population of both Pydyr and Auyemesh.
The Almanian people would ask the same question again. Why us?
Between the wind swept mountain peeks of Dalar, nestled in the cold plains a city burned in the shadows of night. Plumes of thick smoke stood like organic spires into the night sky fueled by a raging fire that roamed like a demon, trying to quench an insatiable thirst as it reached out to the homes of Almanian families. The roar of flame blanketed any sound of sirens or screams, only relenting to the ground shaking explosions that continued to rock the city.
An hour earlier,
“Bozak!” A young ensign exclaimed happily
“You son of a..”
“Tone it down you two. This is a military vessel not a nightclub. Either act like your New Republic on this ship or get the hell off it.” The aging captain growled at the two young ensigns that were enjoying their card game down in the sensor pit.
“Sorry Captain. But you gotta admit, Military protocols are kinda lax at the banthas hind end of space. So we are just tryin uh..to enjo..…” The young ensigns voice trailed off as he realized the sincerity of the captains cold glare bearing down on him. The two young navy boys gave a quick glance at each other before burying their faces in their cards.
The old captain sat back down and drew up his cup of tea. The cup rose to his lips, where the soft aroma of herbs melted into the air, the captain’s temper cooled and washed away with the tiny sip. The aging captain known to many of the crew as Captain kettle, because of his tendency to turn a bright red whenever he lost his temper, spouting off to anyone unlucky enough to be caught in his path. The cream colored cup was delicately settled between wrinkled hands, as tired eyes stared out under gray eyebrows toward the large view port. A glint of light…out in space it wasn’t a star. The captain turned his lips forming to make way for the question but one of the young ensigns beat him to it.
“Sir a ship just reverted from hyperspace off our bow.”
“What kind of ship.” The captain’s tone was light carrying with it only the sternness a captain needed when commanding a ship. There was a pause as the young man plucked away at his terminal, running scans, verifying, filtering out background noise, and rerunning more specified scans all in a matter of seconds.
“Skipray II blastboat. No markings, no identifying signatures other then its class a pirate maybe?”
“Hmm..” The captain continued to stare out at the small vessel on approach. Pretty far out on the outer rim for pirates. Let alone for one to be coming to Almania. There was nothing of worth here to a pirate especially when a New Republic Neb-B frigate and a correlian gunship guarded it. “Are her weapon systems armed?”
“No sir, she’s only running scans. A lot of them…”
“Well we can’t have people jumping in uninvited and poking their noses around, open a channel and lock weapons just to make sure they get the point.”
“Sir! They’re transmitting.”
“Transmitting what?”
“Um…looks like coordinates…our coordinates.” The Ensigns face turned a ghostly pale color as he turned to look up at his captain.
She had crossed the line now. “Charge weapons. Engage engines and ready tractor beams. Take her out or take her in, whichever you boys prefer. Ensign where was that ship transmit..” Old Captain Kettles jaw dropped as he realized the severity of his situation when seven other Skiprays stretched into existence nearly right on top of her. But that wasn’t what made the old man’s cup of tea shatter over the durasteel floor. It was the sight of the Imperial Star destroyer that was now looming just behind the squadron of eight blastboats. “SHIELDS!” The captain’s red-faced scream went unheard over the exploding bridge. Brilliant green bolts lanced out over the Frigates unprotected hull. Flashes of flame and debris pelted over the ship as bulkheads where disintegrated and atmosphere ignited into flame before being snuffed out by the void of space. The onslaught was only intensified as the eight skiprays moved on the frigate like a pack of wolves on injured prey, unleashing the pent of energy in their weapon systems and missile banks, only breaking off at the last moment as they savored the flavor of their destruction.
The black armored figure of Colonel Tear stood defiantly on the bridge of one of the sleek black unmarked Blastboats. In front of him was a dazzling display of explosions and rapid streaming light, it was beautiful. Unlike most men the knowledge that men and women were having their lives snuffed out by his orders only served to make it more attractive to him. “Proceed to the next stage. Make sure our friend doesn’t let that gunship get away. We don’t need the New Republic to know what was happened here yet.” Tears blue eyes watched as the Nebula-B Frigate’s hull buckled and burned, large molten chunks floating away, leaving only charred husk of what it had been moments before. In all honesty he hadn’t expected the Frigate to be there in the first place. Intelligence, ironically enough, had informed him it would be out on weekly maneuvers. The ship had been under surveillance for a good period of time and was very prompt in its actions. Too bad they didn’t keep up with tradition. Engines flashed bright blue as each blastboat accelerated toward the planet Almania, the dull orange light of the burning frigate reflecting cleanly of their sleek forms.
“When we are in position begin the bombing run on their cities.” Tears voice was soft, nearly emotionless as his eyes took in the large blue orb that gradually filled up his field of view. The innocents below were most likely sleeping in their beds, content and happy, knowing that above The New Republic was their protecting their tiny back water planet. Tear couldn’t help but smile at the irony, you wouldn’t think a planet out in the middle of no where with nothing have major value to be the subject of what was coming. But he needed a lamb. Innocent and far enough away from the Republic so no reprisals were immanent. If there were Jedi on the planet they would be coming for whoever was about to perform this horrific act in the name of justice. If there were not any Jedi there…Tear would make sure they would sense the loss of life through the entire galaxy.
Clouds were cleaved by the pack of ships, leaving soft, white, wispy tails that clung to the black crafts hulls for a moment, almost as if heaven itself was reaching out to try and hold them back. It was still dark and Tear could barely make out the silhouette of a sleeping city on the horizon. Canting his head to the side slightly Tear gave a brief look back to his men before giving the order, “Open fire.”
A metallic Cylinder swayed on the end of a thin yet tough leather hide strap. The cylinder swayed softly in the brisk wind that ran down the mountain peeks of Dalar. Its owner stood, black armored fitted tightly to his body contrasting heavily against the white snow that the man was standing in. But the coldness did match the blue eyes that gazed down from the mountain peek to the burning city below. He could feel it. Lives that were born, grew into child hood made friends, fell in love had familes, living the simple life this backwater planet provided. Years of life all ended in a matter of seconds because of a man called Tear. It bothered him, only for a moment, before a smile rose over his lips as the feeling of loss opened a hole into the tangled web called the force that wrapped around everyone. He knew the Jedi would feel it and he was waiting for them.
Almania. A planet whose people were not unfamiliar with the terrors the universe could inflict on them. Yet the sorrow and despair they felt was just as great each time as it had been before, the saying what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger in this sense, doesn’t apply.
Most people to have some misfortunes fall upon them at one point and would ask, why me? Most of the time the reasons were apparent and clear even for those asking the question. The people on Almania on the other hand…do have good reason to ask why? Their planet lays far into deep space on the outer rim. So far in fact that even the galactic empire when it did reign supreme chose to ignore it and its three moons, Pydyr, Auyemesh, and Drewwa. A total of two massacres lay dusty in the Almanian past. Once under a regime that oppressed its people and hung the dead bodies of any whom would defy them on the palace walls. Under that regime came revolution and war that also claimed many lives, but at least they were now free? Not so, their leader turned mad massacred the oppressors and any that stood in his way, leaving only one thousand hand picked Almanians to survive the holocaust. This was not the end of the overlord’s reign though. Before the New Republic finally moved to end his bloody reign the overlord managed to murder the entire population of both Pydyr and Auyemesh.
The Almanian people would ask the same question again. Why us?
Between the wind swept mountain peeks of Dalar, nestled in the cold plains a city burned in the shadows of night. Plumes of thick smoke stood like organic spires into the night sky fueled by a raging fire that roamed like a demon, trying to quench an insatiable thirst as it reached out to the homes of Almanian families. The roar of flame blanketed any sound of sirens or screams, only relenting to the ground shaking explosions that continued to rock the city.
An hour earlier,
“Bozak!” A young ensign exclaimed happily
“You son of a..”
“Tone it down you two. This is a military vessel not a nightclub. Either act like your New Republic on this ship or get the hell off it.” The aging captain growled at the two young ensigns that were enjoying their card game down in the sensor pit.
“Sorry Captain. But you gotta admit, Military protocols are kinda lax at the banthas hind end of space. So we are just tryin uh..to enjo..…” The young ensigns voice trailed off as he realized the sincerity of the captains cold glare bearing down on him. The two young navy boys gave a quick glance at each other before burying their faces in their cards.
The old captain sat back down and drew up his cup of tea. The cup rose to his lips, where the soft aroma of herbs melted into the air, the captain’s temper cooled and washed away with the tiny sip. The aging captain known to many of the crew as Captain kettle, because of his tendency to turn a bright red whenever he lost his temper, spouting off to anyone unlucky enough to be caught in his path. The cream colored cup was delicately settled between wrinkled hands, as tired eyes stared out under gray eyebrows toward the large view port. A glint of light…out in space it wasn’t a star. The captain turned his lips forming to make way for the question but one of the young ensigns beat him to it.
“Sir a ship just reverted from hyperspace off our bow.”
“What kind of ship.” The captain’s tone was light carrying with it only the sternness a captain needed when commanding a ship. There was a pause as the young man plucked away at his terminal, running scans, verifying, filtering out background noise, and rerunning more specified scans all in a matter of seconds.
“Skipray II blastboat. No markings, no identifying signatures other then its class a pirate maybe?”
“Hmm..” The captain continued to stare out at the small vessel on approach. Pretty far out on the outer rim for pirates. Let alone for one to be coming to Almania. There was nothing of worth here to a pirate especially when a New Republic Neb-B frigate and a correlian gunship guarded it. “Are her weapon systems armed?”
“No sir, she’s only running scans. A lot of them…”
“Well we can’t have people jumping in uninvited and poking their noses around, open a channel and lock weapons just to make sure they get the point.”
“Sir! They’re transmitting.”
“Transmitting what?”
“Um…looks like coordinates…our coordinates.” The Ensigns face turned a ghostly pale color as he turned to look up at his captain.
She had crossed the line now. “Charge weapons. Engage engines and ready tractor beams. Take her out or take her in, whichever you boys prefer. Ensign where was that ship transmit..” Old Captain Kettles jaw dropped as he realized the severity of his situation when seven other Skiprays stretched into existence nearly right on top of her. But that wasn’t what made the old man’s cup of tea shatter over the durasteel floor. It was the sight of the Imperial Star destroyer that was now looming just behind the squadron of eight blastboats. “SHIELDS!” The captain’s red-faced scream went unheard over the exploding bridge. Brilliant green bolts lanced out over the Frigates unprotected hull. Flashes of flame and debris pelted over the ship as bulkheads where disintegrated and atmosphere ignited into flame before being snuffed out by the void of space. The onslaught was only intensified as the eight skiprays moved on the frigate like a pack of wolves on injured prey, unleashing the pent of energy in their weapon systems and missile banks, only breaking off at the last moment as they savored the flavor of their destruction.
The black armored figure of Colonel Tear stood defiantly on the bridge of one of the sleek black unmarked Blastboats. In front of him was a dazzling display of explosions and rapid streaming light, it was beautiful. Unlike most men the knowledge that men and women were having their lives snuffed out by his orders only served to make it more attractive to him. “Proceed to the next stage. Make sure our friend doesn’t let that gunship get away. We don’t need the New Republic to know what was happened here yet.” Tears blue eyes watched as the Nebula-B Frigate’s hull buckled and burned, large molten chunks floating away, leaving only charred husk of what it had been moments before. In all honesty he hadn’t expected the Frigate to be there in the first place. Intelligence, ironically enough, had informed him it would be out on weekly maneuvers. The ship had been under surveillance for a good period of time and was very prompt in its actions. Too bad they didn’t keep up with tradition. Engines flashed bright blue as each blastboat accelerated toward the planet Almania, the dull orange light of the burning frigate reflecting cleanly of their sleek forms.
“When we are in position begin the bombing run on their cities.” Tears voice was soft, nearly emotionless as his eyes took in the large blue orb that gradually filled up his field of view. The innocents below were most likely sleeping in their beds, content and happy, knowing that above The New Republic was their protecting their tiny back water planet. Tear couldn’t help but smile at the irony, you wouldn’t think a planet out in the middle of no where with nothing have major value to be the subject of what was coming. But he needed a lamb. Innocent and far enough away from the Republic so no reprisals were immanent. If there were Jedi on the planet they would be coming for whoever was about to perform this horrific act in the name of justice. If there were not any Jedi there…Tear would make sure they would sense the loss of life through the entire galaxy.
Clouds were cleaved by the pack of ships, leaving soft, white, wispy tails that clung to the black crafts hulls for a moment, almost as if heaven itself was reaching out to try and hold them back. It was still dark and Tear could barely make out the silhouette of a sleeping city on the horizon. Canting his head to the side slightly Tear gave a brief look back to his men before giving the order, “Open fire.”
A metallic Cylinder swayed on the end of a thin yet tough leather hide strap. The cylinder swayed softly in the brisk wind that ran down the mountain peeks of Dalar. Its owner stood, black armored fitted tightly to his body contrasting heavily against the white snow that the man was standing in. But the coldness did match the blue eyes that gazed down from the mountain peek to the burning city below. He could feel it. Lives that were born, grew into child hood made friends, fell in love had familes, living the simple life this backwater planet provided. Years of life all ended in a matter of seconds because of a man called Tear. It bothered him, only for a moment, before a smile rose over his lips as the feeling of loss opened a hole into the tangled web called the force that wrapped around everyone. He knew the Jedi would feel it and he was waiting for them.