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>>Farren Gaelle
>Brawn: 2
>Finesse: 3
>Intellect: 2
>Cunning: 2
>Resolve: 3
>Panache: 2

>>Skills:
>Astronavigation 1 (Intellect) – a measure of knowledge about the galaxy’s stellar composition, allowing for the correct plotting of routes and hyperspace jumps.
>Cool 1 (Panache) – a measure of a character’s ability to remain calm under danger. Rolled to resist Charm and Negotiation.
>Coordination 1 (Finesse) – a measure of a character’s nimbleness and flexibility.
>Deception 1 (Cunning) – judges the character’s ability to trick others into believing falsehoods.
>Force Entities 1 (Intellect) – how much a character knows of entities strong in the Force.
>Lore 2 (Intellect) – how much the character knows of the ancient galaxy and its history.
>Mechanics 1 (Intellect) – skill and prowess in working on all things from weapons to droids and ships.
>Melee 2 (Brawn) – a character’s proficiency with melee weapons such as knives and swords.
>Medicine 1 (Intellect) – a skill used to treat wounds as minor as scrapes to life-threatening injuries.
>Perception 2 (Cunning) – a skill used to notice clues, perceive hidden dangers, and all manner of hidden objects or persons.
>Piloting [Space] 1 (Agility) – the ability to pilot starships and other stellar vessels.
>Sith 1 (Intellect) – a measure of a character’s knowledge regarding the Sith and Dark Side of the Force.
>Stealth 1 (Agility) – a measure of how easily a character can hide or appear inconspicuous.
>Vigilance 2 (Resolve) – represents a character’s ability to take notice and react to events happening in their surroundings/peripheral vision.

>>Traits:
>Jedi Shadow [Add +2 to checks made for Deception, Perception, Stealth and Vigilance]
>Makashi Expert [Roll 3d6 when using Form II/Makashi]
>Indistinguishable [You are but a face in the crowd, and add 1d6 to Stealth rolls]

>>Lightsaber Rating: 3
>>Weapons: One yellow-gold, single-blade lightsaber.
>>Lightsaber Forms:
>Form II, Makashi [Finesse]
>Form VI, Niman [Finesse+Cunning]

>>Force Rating: 2 (2d10+Resolve)
>>Force Affinity: Alter (+5 bonus to Alter-type powers)

>>Force Powers:
>Force Fire 2 (Alter) – a pyrokinetic ability that allows the practitioner to manipulate and conjure flames with the Force.
>Force Pull/Push 1 (Alter) – The iconic telekinesis of every Jedi, determines lifting limit and push power.
>Force Speed 1 (Alter) – The universe seems to slow around you, and you are react faster as a result of it.
>Force Weapon 3 (Alter) – You imbue a mundane weapon with the Force, increasing its durability and damage. Your lightsaber now does more damage. At fifth rank...?
>Mystic Weapon 1 (Alter). You can imbue a lightsaber with the Force and make it fight remotely at your side. At third rank, you may add an additional lightsaber.
>Sever Force 2 (Alter) – A rare technique that severs one’s connection with the Force. Leveling this increases duration and potency.

=======

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=Misc. Inventory=
>Golden Lightsaber Crystal – one of two lightsaber crystals you had taken from the caves of Illum when you were a Youngling. The lightsaber it had been embedded in had been destroyed by the Herald of Jombaral.
>Holocron of the Betrayer – a Jedi Holocron containing the persona of Kreia, an enigmatic Jedi from the time of Darth Revan.
>Liar’s Blade – the spearhead carried into battle by the Liar Chieftain against the Herald of Jombaral thousands of years ago. Supposedly, it is to be used against the Herald to release the souls it devoured. It is anathema to beings connected to the Force.
>Mandalorian Blaster – a Mandalorian pistol given to you by Nomiana Whrul after a passionate evening on Mylar-3. She gave it to you in the hopes that it would keep you alive in the Unknown Regions.
>Sunspear – an ancient weapon from a forgotten age, when the surface of Kakarit was an endless plain of sand. It is among the finest forms of Kakari technology, using the energy stored within embedded sunstones to manifest a field of energy along its blade. Its prior owner was the Accuser of Pilgrims, Guardian of the Godseye, a gestalt entity comprised of fifty souls strong in the Force.

=Leads from Alleana Gaelle=
>Arkinnea, a planet in the Expanse Region, where refugees of both Separatist and Republic bent flee.
>Bracca, a planet in the Mid Rim, where the only fortune to be made is from shipbreaking and scrapping.
>Dagobah, a planet in the Outer Rim, a desolate swamp void of any significant or advanced civilization.
>U’haon, a planet in the Tingel Arm, suspected to be the planet you saw in the Revenant’s vision.
>Uliea, a planet in the Outer Rim, alleged homeworld of Alleana and Farren Gaelle, largely unknown by the galaxy.

======

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=The Albatross=

>>Class: Lonrar E-9 Explorer

>Silhouette – [4]
>Speed – [4]
>Handling – [-1]
>Hull: [25/25]
>System: [14/14]

>Shield (Fore) – [1]
> Shield (Port) – N/A
>Shield (Starboard) – N/A
>Shield (Aft) – [1]
>Armor – [4]

>Cargo Capacity: 60 Metric Tons

>>Hardpoints [2/4]:
>Electronic Countermeasures – doubles the DC for enemy shits to hit you.
>Security Measures – doubles the DC for Computers/Skullduggery checks made for unauthorized access.

>>Misc.
>Namesake Bonus – increases engines/sublight speed by 1.

>>Weapons:
>1x Dorsal & 1x Ventral Turret- mounted Medium Laser Cannon(s).

>>Crew & Compliment:
> 1 Pilot, 1 Co-Pilot, 1 Engineer, 1 Loadmaster.
>4 Passengers.

===============

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>>Coruscant, 19 BBY
>>Approximately one month after Order 66...

“WANTED: APPRENTICE FOR INDEPENDENT TRADER {BOSS BANTHA} FOR OUTER RIM JOURNEY. SEEKING ASPIRANT ENGINEERS AND PILOTS, AGED 16 TO 22, NO PRIOR EXPERIENCE NEEDED. CAPTAIN D. WARK GRIFFITH WILL BE INTERVIEWING APPLICANTS AT THE [MERRY MAGISTER CANTINA].

DEADLINE WITHIN FIVE DAYS OF THIS ADVERTISEMENT’S POSTING.

“ADDENDUM: NON-HUMANS NEED NOT APPLY.”

The tattoos along the boy’s neck told Larid everything that he needed to know. Even if he was genuinely in the market for an apprentice engineer, the gang markings all but disqualified this latest one. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d partnered up with smugglers or other criminals, but for all he knew, this one had a bounty. And that kind of attention was the last thing that he needed.

Still, he played it cool. If nothing else, he could say that he was enjoying himself. The ebb and flow of conversation, smoothed and flavored by good food and wine, had helped cajole the Shadow out of the dark mood he’d found himself in. What he’d discovered in the Temple Archives wasn’t about to leave him anytime soon, but this game was a welcome distraction from those troubling thoughts.

Nestled in a quiet little corner in the Merry Magister cantina, the Jedi Shadow nursed a solitary drink, silent as he listened to the latest applicant sell himself. The dull roar of the ambience helped to muffle their conversation. It was a slower night compared to most, but the music and the bustle of servers helped to keep any conversations barely legible above the rest.

“Ask around, everyone will tell you that you’ll find no better mechanic than Riven, sir,” the pockmarked youth said earnestly. Beyond the ink, his most defining feature was a scar that ran across his nose. His sandy-gold hair was cropped short, just ending at his ears. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. “I’ve worked on all sorts of machines, from dirty cargo haulers to the sleekest muscle birds.”

Illegally obtained? But that question never surfaced on his lips. One of the waitresses idled to the table, bringing the food that they had ordered. She cast a sour look at Riven, still dirty with oil and grime from the shop he had most likely left in a hurry to make before the interviews ended. He didn’t seem to notice, either. The grease seeping into the upholstery would take a good week to remove.

Larid offered a small nod, taking a small bite from a plate of onion rings. And in a harsh brogue he picked up from the east end of the Outer Rim, he asked, “Any experience with starships?”

“Not...exactly,” Riven hesitated, before regaining his bearings, “But I’m a fast learner. And I’ve found that gravitation technology and the laws of physics cut a wide swath across multiple vehicles.”

(cont.)

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That it did. The same principles that influenced a speeder’s movement weren’t entirely dissimilar to that on a starship. Perhaps in scale, of course, but the technology was nearly the same. Academics might argue, but the words of engineers and mechanics had more weight to them than bushy-browed scholars with smooth hands and unblemished clothing.

But here came the test that broke more than made most of the applicants.

“Alright, pop quiz, laddie.” Riven looked up, half of an onion ring dangling out of his mouth like some misshapen piercing. In any other event, Larid might have laughed, but he was deadly serious as he intoned: “We just jumped to hyperspace and we’ve got an electrical overload. In thirty seconds, we might be scattered across into wee little parts across three different star systems. Coolant’s leaking and the controls aren’t immediately responding. What would you do to save the ship, our cargo and our lives?”

The boy bobbed his head, swallowing the food like some sort of piscine animal. Adopting a thinker’s pose, he began to mutter: “...well, first thing I wouldn’t do is mess with the compressor.”

Larid barked a harsh laugh, startling Riven out of his pensive thoughts. “Well, you’ve got more promise than most of the city-slickers I’ve seen tonight.”

It wasn’t a lie. There’d been several aspirants who fell disappointingly short even beneath the minimum requirements he’d set in the advertisement. Case in point with a girl who had the brilliant idea to rip off the compressor. Some senator’s rebellious, impulsive brat looking for an adventure, judging from her accent and the clothes she’d been wearing.

He’d sent her home sulking, but gave a good recommendation for self-education courses. Maybe in a few years, she’d be on a ship and wouldn’t make a mistake like that. But just before the boy got too hopeful, he gestured for him to continue. “Twenty five seconds.”

“Oh, uh...” Larid could see the gears turning in his head. “...divert auxiliary power to the secondary coolant tank. Surplus energy needs to be redirected away from the cockpit to avoid a complete blowout of what controls we still have...”

The more he listened, the worse Larid felt. It was honestly a damned shame. The kid not only knew his stuff, but the desperation in his aura wasn’t one he could ignore. Maybe it wasn’t a bounty hunter that was coming after him, but there was something he was fleeing from. He looked at the gang markings once more, debating whether or not they could have been applied against his will...

He coughed, cutting the boy off. “With one second left on the clock, you saved my ship and our profits. Well done, lad.”

The relief was painfully obvious. Riven slumped back in his seat, a nervous grin on his face. “So...how’d I do, sir? Do I have the job?”

“Oi, slow down there. Didn’t your parents ever teach you patience?”

(cont.)

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“Ah. Sorry to hear that, laddie.” And he meant it, too. Downing the remainder of his drink, Larid continued, “Well, sometimes the galaxy deals you a shite hand, but you seem to have done alright for yourself in spite of it. So here’s the rub: I’ll let you know in two days if you’ve got the job or not.”

The boy’s face brightened like the dawn. He bowed, nearly tripping over himself as he leapt out of the booth. “Oh, thank you, sir! I promise, you won’t regret a thing if you sign me on!”
Riven practically skipped out of the restaurant. A moment later, once he’d exited the premises, Larid heard a whoop of joy. Premature in his celebration, but that might have been the best night of his life in a very long time. Futile though it might have been...though not of his own fault.

But perhaps it was a flight of fancy or a strange whim that compelled Larid to hold onto Riven’s application. On a nearby datapad, he moved the boy’s papers from out of the recycling bin, and left it on the desktop. One day, maybe, he’d come back and see what the boy had made of himself...one day...

...he sighed. If he was going to slip that far into maudlin sentiment, then he might as well return for the senator’s brat as well-

“Captain Griffith.”

He looked up from his drink and datapad to see a Kel Dor inserting herself into his booth, uncaring of the stares she drew to herself. Her clothes marked her in that precarious of middles between poverty and the middle class. Certainly one of the brassier applicants, and so quick on the heels of a more promising one! This was the sixth non-human in as many as two hours. Things must’ve been getting really bad on Coruscant for them to apply in spite of the obvious warning.

But the night was still young. Noirah could come in at any moment. And if she didn’t...then he still had some business before the dawn. No good hunter worth his salt only sets one trap, let alone an obvious one. There wasn’t any time to waste entertaining this latest arrival, let alone be pleasant about it.

Larid scowled, slipping back into his coarse brogue: “Look, I already told the last five of you xenos: non-humans need not-”

But to his surprise, the Kel Dor brought her hand up, and waved her fingers before his eyes. The Force trembled about her, and he felt it envelop him in an attempt to seize his will. With a low, modulated voice, the woman rumbled: “You will give me berth in your ship and passage to the Outer Rim.”

The façade slipped as the Shadow started. He stared at her, incredulous, both at the fact that his Jedi trap had worked, albeit in an unexpected way...and at the sheer stupidity of her actions. This corner of the cantina was far away from prying eyes and cameras, but there were still too many people, too many eyes that were looking at everything and nothing.

(cont.)

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But the Kel Dor noticed none of these things. She frowned at the response (or lack thereof), and pushed once more with the trick, murmuring, “You will give me berth on your ship-”

Before she could finish, Larid seized her fingers with an iron grip. She squawked as he brought her hand down, hard, on the table. Drinks and food went flying as the Shadow hissed in a low, menacing tone: “Do that again, and I swear on the ashes of our brothers and sisters that I will gut you like a fish!”

All of her species wore dark goggles and a face mask to protect themselves from oxygen-rich environments. But even with those impediments, he could see the way her brow rose, and her mouth slackened in visible shock. “You are-!”

“You damned...not here!”

With his other hand, he slipped something into her boot beneath the table. Once he was certain that she’d noticed the addition, Larid all but dragged her out of his booth. And with a booming roar loud enough to startle and silence the entire cantina, he screamed: “Get out of here, you inhuman filth! And don’t you dare show what passes for your face around me again!”

There wasn’t any faking the hurt in her expression as she ran away, cloak billowing in her haste to exit the cantina. And damn him if he didn’t feel like the lowest form of life on the galaxy, second only to those bastard Sith. The racist was an old character he’d playacted before, one that left him needing a shower several times over. It went in complete anathema with the teachings of the Jedi, but it was a necessary evil he had to perform.

For both of their sakes.

“What’re you looking at?” he snarled at the diners, who suddenly became very interested at their meals. To the frightened waitress, he tossed her a handful of credit chits and began to help her clean up. “Sorry about the mess, lassie. Next round’s on me...”

Larid settled back into his seat, reaching for the bottle of spirits the server had returned with. This time, he didn’t have to fake anything as he put it to his lips and took a very generous swing. He’d emptied out another bottle before the next applicant showed up. And it wasn’t Noirah.

It was shaping up to be a very long night for the Shadow...

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>>At the same time...
>>Kakarit, Behrilia System, Outer Rim.

Even deprived of his main offensive weapon, the Paragon is still a dangerous foe. And with a hand free, the restrictions against Force techniques he’d imposed upon himself are nowhere to be found. It takes all of your own dexterous skills and contortionist training to adapt to the kinetic waves that threaten to flatten you against the wall.

You dodge where you can, counter with your own Force Push where need be. The Paragon hisses as you dig your lighstaber into the stone, drawing heat from the slag to manifest a great tendril of Force Fire. He blasts away the heat, countering with a rending claw meant to open you from waist to shoulder. Too slow! You beat a calculated retreat, swerving to the side and ducking from the counterblow...

...all the while side-stepping towards the fallen mace.

By the time he realizes what you’ve done, it’s too late. The Kakari’s eyes widen as you gesture to the weapon with an empty hand, lunging both physically and with the Force to stop you. But just as you can feel your boots slipping on the wet ground, the sunstones within the Godstone Mace answer your call.

They break away from the weapon with a sound like gentle glass, soaring into the air as they race to your position. Hurriedly, you unsheathe the Sunspear from your back. And when you present the weapon, and three of the empty slots along its haft, there’s almost a noise of relief. The Sunspear seems to hum a joyous song as the stolen Godstones place themselves as if they’d never departed.

And the weapon begins to glow, filling you with an unexpected font of energy...

>>With nine of the twelve Godstones embedded in the weapon, the Sunspear is at half-power.
>>While in physical contact with the Sunspear, you gain a Temporary +1d10 to dice rolls when rolling for Force Powers.

“Thief!” the Herald roars, bounding towards you with a furious gleam in its eyes. Any and all decorum of professional animosity has been forgotten in favor of personal vendetta.

“Kinslayer!” You hurriedly sheathe the Sunspear, affixing it to your back with Fibercord before you rejoin the fight. If you could just get the last three Godstones within the shield...!

But just before it can get any closer, the Paragon Herald stops, digging its talons into the ground. Its throat hums a warbling note, a sinister chuckle as it slams its shield into the ground.

“I had not desired to initiate the apotheosis so early and so incomplete...” he hisses, wrenching all three Godstones from out of the shield. And to your amazement and horror, he opens his maw, dropping the last of them into his gullet without pause or hesitation. “Die honored that you have driven me to this state, Farren Gaelle.”

And the Living Force begins to scream as the flesh of the Paragon Herald starts to ripple and mutate...

(cont.)

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But before you can even think about making any sort of aggressive move, or some desperate ploy to stop the transformation, the world begins to shake. The vines in the chamber shudder, ominously glowing a pale and sickly color as Master Kosa’s screams reach a fever pitch. The distant roars of the Guardian and Sings-of-Splitting-Stone fall to the wayside as a new and terrible threat emerges.

They appear without warning, suddenly pushed into the chamber by the endemic life around you. Birthed out of blood-red cocoons and egg sacs in a macabre mockery of reproduction, the creatures fall to the ground with a grotesque splat and a hideous chittering. Too many eyes turn to look at you, too many teeth in maws that slaver and drool at the sight of you and Master Kosa.

“LaRVaE, oBeY yOuR hERaLd! roars the misshapen lump of the Metamorphic Herald, a cancerous growth with only vestigial signs of the Paragon. Its skull leers at you with preternatural light, blazing with enough hatred to match a Sith’s passion. “kIlL tHe jEdI!

The Larvae of Jombaral split off into two groups: one listens to their master’s call, slithering towards your position. The others heed their more baser instincts, and race towards the helpless Master Kosa, thrashing in her vines in a futile attempt to escape...

>>Roll 2d8 + 8 Lightsaber. [+3 Skill, +3 Finesse, +2 Cunning]
>8, 8, 8

Your blade is a golden blur, snapping out in quick, disciplined, movements. Not a single movement is wasted, carried over from one to the next in an almost dance-like series of motions. Desperation to reach Master Kosa lends you speed and agility beyond your ken, and you duck and weave flawlessly through the horde of aberrations.

They are not nearly so dexterous in dodging or attacking. Beyond their maws and imposing mass, there is little else in the way of attack. Even as they all might try to swarm or overwhelm you with numbers, you have a way of escape, a counter maneuver, or the sheer brute force of the tools at your disposal.

As you drive your lightsaber into the maw of one Larva and bisect it down the middle, your other hand conjures great tendrils of fire. They take to the summoned monsters like sparks to tinder, engulfing them entirely in purifying flame. It does not take long for the air within the inner sanctum becomes dry and arid. And with the screams and noises of the burning larvae, the closer the area feels like an actual hell made manifest in the heart of paradise.

And the Herald’s already come to play the role of the devil.

You reach Master Kosa with more than enough time to spare. The remainder of the larvae shriek as you drive them back away from the Jedi, cringing away from the heat of your ‘saber and conjured flame. Most of them, the slower ones that hadn’t been able to react in time, fall under the sheer ferocity of your assault.

(cont.)

Whatever instincts of self-preservation the sole survivor possesses override any demands from the Herald of Jombaral. It contents itself to eye you warily, even as its mouth(s) work furiously, with viscous drool splattering out of maws with far too many teeth.

“...what manner of creatures...” whispers Kosa in a hoarse voice.

“...ThE cHILDrEN Of JomARaL in theIr TRUeST FoRM...”

The Metamorphic Herald stands uneasily. Its flesh continues to writhe and squirm, shuddering as if a great host of serpentine creatures moved within its body. But you already know that in lieu of sinew and bone, tenebrous vines as thick as your forearm comprise the creature’s malformed musculature.

"...sEeds tHaT moTHER WouLd soW aCrOSs the gALaXY..." croaks the abomination. Its mouth moves in approximation of the syllables, even as cancerous growths congeal to form muscle and skin. "...TheY WouLD tAkE rOOt tO fORm NEW wOMBs WitHIn thE cORES of PLanETs tO GErMinATe..."

What little blood remains in Kosa’s face pales at the implications. And you can’t nearly suppress the shiver that runs up and down the length of your spine. But before you can move to incinerate the last of the larvae, the Herald moves to shield it with the sheer bulk of its mass.

It runs a misshapen hand along the larva’s scalp in a pantomime of affection. And for the briefest moment, you could have sworn that the creature was responding, leaning into the touch...

...and then it barely had time to scream as the Herald crushes its head into a bloody pulp.

"...IT is oF NO cONsEQUeNCe,” the Herald mutters nonchalantly, letting viscera and gore slide off its bloody talons. It stares directly into your eyes and holds your gaze, stomping towards you with increasing speed and power. "...youR cORpSE, faRRen, WILl sErvE As seEdbEd fOr THE neXT of mOther's CHilDrEn..."

Its limbs shudder, splitting into long, sinewy creepers, tapered with wicked hooks at their ends. From the way their ends seem to split open into wide beaks, you can conclude that these could be the barbs that have ensnared Master Kosa.

There is a glint of malice in the Herald’s eyes as you duck and weave, contorting your body to dodge and deflect the flesh hooks...

>>What is your strategy?
>Attempt to use Sever Force to disrupt its connection to the Living Force and its surroundings.
>Draw the Sunspear and recreate the conditions that lead to the defeat of the Accuser of Pilgrims.
>Keep fighting with Niman/Form VI and application of the Force. It’s been working so far.
>Sunder Master Kosa’s binding to the plants and give her the Sunspear.
>Question it in a bid for time The more you know about this 'apotheosis' the better.
>Taunt it into making a mistake. Make a disparaging remark about its childhood.
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR SIX HOURS

>>4489899
>>Attempt to use Sever Force to disrupt its connection to the Living Force and its surroundings
I think we should do this before freeing Kosa. But if we want to do one more trick...

>Spray the herald with fire and blood if its available to blind him.
>Shout for master kosa, throwing the saber as if to free her
>Force Sever while he thinks hes got the jump on us.

>>4489904
I'll back this.
Happy see this back again

>>4489904
Just to clarify, yes i am aware of the possibility that he can't actually be blinded because of his force awareness of the whole room. It's part of the feint.

>>4489904
support

>>4489899
>>4489904
Seems like a good gambit, support

>>4489904
Yeah, why the heck not. Support

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>fire and blood
Is that readily available? I don't feel comfortable supporting something that hinges on a "maybe".

>>4490050
We can generate force fire out of nothing, and that larva's blood went everywhere when the Herald crushed it. I don't see why it wouldn't work.
>>4489899
So, I'm supporting >>4489904

>>4490071
Oh, I didn't see that part.

>>4489899
Supporting >>4489904.

>>4489904
Do we still have that knife that knocks all the souls out of him?

>>4490225
Still in our inventory, but I don't feel so hot about using it against the Herald while he still has his Force powers. We COULD Sever Force, stick it in there and wait for his connection to return.

Is it just me or is this boss fight taking an absurdly long time, even without counting the hiatus?

>>4490260
Not really? I mean we've been kicking the dogshit out of him so far, but it is the end boss so chances are he's not going down easy..

>>4489904
Support
Absolutely ecstatic to see this running again
All the other quests running don't even come close to this one

>>4489899
>>Draw the Sunspear and recreate the conditions that lead to the defeat of the Accuser of Pilgrims.

>>4489904
This seems way too risky, and feels like it's being tricky just for he sake of being tricky.

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>>4489904
>>4489908
>>4489907
>>4489946
>>4490005
>>4490019
>>4490071
>>4490077
>>4490298
>>4490316

You don’t dance nearly as long. When enough of the hooks have been severed at their tips, the Herald withdraws its weapons with an almost tangible scowl. It is in that lull and abatement that you make a fierce, desperate and very, very high-stakes counter-attack.

The Herald stills abruptly as you charge forward. But to its visible surprise, your lightsaber seems to wiff by just a few scant inches. Its arc takes the golden blade up into the ceiling, towards one of the hundreds of vines that have scrawled along the surfaces of the sanctum. Most are cauterized shut by the sheer heat of the plasma.

Most, but not all. There are a handful of vessels that burst, overwriting the scent of fresh earth with a sharp and bitter iron. Green-red blood splashes down onto the floor, pumping like water from an uncontrollable hose. They commingle with the cooling corpses of the larvae, intermingling into a foul, putrid stench.

And Kosa screams in sympathetic pain as the vines that burrowed deep into her body begin to bleed out...

Forgive me, Master!

Even as the Herald opens its mouth, a scathing taunt within its skeletal visage, you don’t hesitate. Within your empty hand, you gather heat and power. The flames rush towards the foe, a scorching lance of Spirit Flame into its center mass. The flames lick along the Herald’s body, but no sooner does “flesh” begin to wither and char are they sliced clean off.

“i learneD HOw to do THAt WheN i was no morE ThAn fiFteen sumMERS,” it growls, regenerating the damaged limbs and parts. “iT WIll tAKe MOrE THAN paLtry TrickS-”

What parts of his body that are still on fire are immediately doused by an unexpected torrent of blood.

It’s one thing to hold the overhead vines in place to keep them from flailing wildly. But it is another to redirect them with the Force. You aren’t subjugating anything as much as exerting pure force of will into holding the severed vines away from you and Kosa, and towards the Herald of Jombaral.

Flailing blindly against the unexpected distraction, the monster’s given you a breath. And with that breath, you hurry along to Master Kosa’s side. You hurriedly isolate the worst of the bleeding vines and quickly cauterize them.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize.

She doesn’t answer, merely opining to shoot you a withering glare, one you've seen reserved for your master's wilder antics. It’s quickly replaced by one of surprise as you unhook the Sunstone Spear and thrust it into her hands. Then awe as the warm glow of the nine embedded Godstones seems to resonate with her.

“Please hold onto this for me.”

And just as the Herald wipes away the last bit of blood from the lights of its eyes, you concentrate.

“There is no emotion, there is peace...”

>>Roll 2d10 + 9 Sever Force (+3 Will, +1 Skill, +5 Affinity)
>Best out of three.

Rolled 5, 8 + 9 = 22 (2d10 + 9)

>>4490980

Rolled 9, 5 + 9 = 23 (2d10 + 9)

>>4490980
Works for me

Rolled 10, 1 + 9 = 20 (2d10 + 9)

>>4490980

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>>4490980
>very, very high-stakes
That reads like a huge DC.

>>4490984
I hope that's enough.

>>4491004
I think the force sever idea was terrible personally. We needed good rolls to get it to work before the bastard was trying to become a god. But I'm still impressed with how well we've been rolling ever since we started fighting him. Like the dice fucking hate the herald it seems.

>inb4 jinxed it

>>4491037
We probably rely on it too much, don't we? Especially on Kakarit.

>>4491040
Considering we're up against a Force Entity? I'd be surprised if we didn't have to rely on it.

Honestly though the plan was stupidly complicated.

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>>4490982
>>4490984
>>4490989
The Force almost seems to scream as your conceptual blade meets the Herald’s defenses. Blood runs down the corner of your eyes, dripping from out of your nose as capillaries in both start to strain and burst. Caught off-guard, the entity is only able to mount a sloppy, but no less powerful, defense against the searing blade.

It is not nearly enough.

Something cracks at the point of contact. It is an unperceivable noise that isn’t heard but felt. From that tiny fissure erupts a network of hairline fractures, branching out into a schizophrenic web of straining glass. Too late, the Herald tries to bolster its defenses with a second barrier...

...and something gives way.

The flesh of the Herald’s splits open, parting with such ferocity as if you’d struck it with your lightsaber. But unlike the prior wounds, it does not immediately close. The vines and sinews thrash about wildly, groping for their severed twins, flailing at everything to try and seal the injury.

Between the parted folds, three iridescent gems lay within the cancerous flesh, orbiting a pulsating spheroid. The former could only be the Godstones you were unable to secure before the metamorphosis. But the center orb, flickering between ominous shades of azure and crimson, could only be the creature’s core.

Its heart is approximately the size of a man’s head, almost pearl-like in its appearance. The pebbled surface is radiant, a brilliant star within the Force. It pulses no differently than a normal organ, and you feel your own resonate in sympathetic rhythm. But in the shocked silence between the three of you, you can still hear the screams of four thousand years’ worth of souls.

The Liar’s Blade grows heavy on your belt, as if begging to be drawn. And before you even realize, your empty hand reflexively goes towards the weapon.

Suddenly, one of the three Godstones brightens to an almost painful degree. But as quick as it happens, the brilliance fades, and the Stone reverts to a dull prism. With an obscene noise, the vines holding the gem in place retract, and the Godstone falls onto the ground with a resonant clang.

“nO!” The Herald moves as if to scoop it back into its body, but you react quicker. Hurriedly, you pull your hand away from the Liar’s Blade and blast the Godstone with a wave of kinetic energy. It soars into the air, bouncing off the surfaces of the sanctum, rolling and spinning away from the Herald’s reach.

>>You have deprived the Metamorphic Herald of one of its Godstones.
>>It now only has two Godstones upon which to draw power.

>>The Heart of the Herald has been exposed!

>>What will you do?
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.
>Reign yourself in. Gather your power and Sever Force to deprive the Herald of the last two Godstones.
>Custom option.

[VOTE OPEN FOR FIVE HOURS

>>4491705
>>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.
We've triggered the bossfight to expose his glowing weakspot, dart in and give it a hit for massive damage before repeating twice more.

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.

>inb4 this doesn't kill him immediately and we have to hold out for a few turns

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.
He’s already run through his first transformation unless this isn’t even his final form

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.
wonder what it would feel like if we used force pull on the core, but we're not specced for that.

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.

>>4491705
>>Reign yourself in. Gather your power and Sever Force to deprive the Herald of the last two Godstones.

>>4491705
>Press the advantage. Draw the Liar’s Blade and charge towards the Heart for a killing blow.
Considering that we just ended up bursting blood vessels pulling off one Force Sever, I don't think it's a good idea to try another. That being said, maybe we could feint like we're going for the other Godstones, or something else to hide our goal of "Fuck you, you horrid monstrosity, hurry up and die so I can snack on some blueberry pie"?

>>4492598
I think we may have trouble feinting the process of Force Sever.

Hyped, glad the best quest is back!

Welcome back, I can't wait for the tomboy twilek waifu

>>4492889
She is top tier
>Inb4 she finds out we slept with a mandalorian and demands we track her down so Arotta can fight for our “honour”

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>>4492889
*Togruta

Glad to be back.

Writing...

>>4493319
Doesn't mean there can't be one in the future...

>>4493341
I agree, not nearly enough waifus in this quest already.

>>4493351
Saving rock waifu needs to be prioritised now we've got blueberry and her master saved.

>>4493319
Togruta are nice. Good to have you back Kaz.

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>>4491734
>>4491748
>>4491826
>>4491867
>>4492160
>>4492294
>>4492481
>>4492598

The Liar’s Blade grows hot in your hand as you draw it. Its surface warps and shudders, the blue pulsating in synchronic rhythm with the core of the Herald. A great conflagration of fire runs down along its length. The Force trembles as a tangible, heatless flame that shines as bright as a star.

And as all eyes turn towards the weapon, everything happens at once.

Master Kosa redoubles her efforts to free herself. The power of the Sunspear bolsters her emaciated frame beyond its physical limits. Its tip glows white-hot as it slices through the vines, cauterizing wounds shut with an acrid stench. The ensuing hospital bill will be a high price to pay, but it will be one well spent.

The Herald’s body seems to ripple. Then, it seems to explode in a mess of vines and bramble. Some shoot towards the Jedi Master. The flesh hooks race for the severed connections, or outright try to take root in new locations. But the overwhelming majority arc towards you and the weapon in your hand.

The first vine misses you by mere inches. The second bramble carves a thin furrow where your neck meets your shoulder. The next three of the coarse boughs slices into your skin. Thorns fly about like the shrapnel of a fragmentation device, puncturing the soft flesh of your face, barely missing your eyes...

But you continue your charge. Master Kosa fights off the bonds that would restrain or steal the Sunspear. And within the great wound you had dealt the Herald, the remaining Godstones within its chest seem to sing with approval.

"i wILl NOT Be DEnIEd My ASCENcion!" the monster roars, "I WIlL nOT be DenIed what iS mInE by birthRiGhT!"

“...there is no ignorance, there is knowledge...”

For a moment, your discipline slips, and the noise that comes out of your throat startles you as much as the next person. There is the pain of your body. The bones of your formerly broken arm ache; the burns of the Harvester’s acid are not quick to heal. And the pain of the mind, that taint that poured within you, the head-splitting visions...

But it comes and passes quickly. And your mind is no less tranquil, a point of balance in a roiling storm of emotions. The apex of your charge abruptly stops as you vault into the air, propelling yourself with a Force-aided jump.

“...there is no passion, there is serenity...”

The clasp of your hood comes undone, allowing for the wind to blow your hair into wild disarray as you descend with the force of a righteous warrior. The dispassionate gaze trembles as the vectors of its limbs are redirected up. Skin is punctured, thorns embedded, flesh hooks dig in and begin to draw blood...but it is not nearly enough to stop you.

You rear back, sheathing your lightsaber to clasp the Liar’s Blade with both hands...

“...there is no death; there is the Force...”

...and you stab the Herald in its core.

(cont.)

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The light in its eyes track downwards, staring in disbelief at the blade embedded within it.
And then the Herald screams.

The world ends. Or at least, it sounds as if it did. Blood-red energy shoots from out of the aberration’s mouth, boiling with amber motes and sickly bubbles. There is a sickening crack of bone as the sheer pressure of the blast twists its head to stare straight up into the air.

The sheer force of the blast knocks you away from the Herald. Nothing in your own power can keep the Blade within your hands. It slips out of your fingers, remaining embedded within the monster’s heart. Not that you’d complain too much, even as you fly back tail over teakettle.

For a brief moment, the Herald’s flesh seems to darken, soon resembling the surface of a paved road in disrepair. Dark, sap-like ichor oozes from the crack within its core. And where they fall, the liquid trembles, mutating and solidifying into tumor-like clumps with too many mouths, too many twitching limbs...

But what exits next...they could only be described as souls. The spheroid entities that race from out of the Herald’s mouth and core are unified in their singular relief, the maddening glee of release after four thousand years of torment. They are more than legion, uncountable millions in number that surge out of the monster as if the gates of a great dam had been opened.

Some disappear immediately, vanishing through the ceiling of the inner sanctum to whatever afterlife awaits them. Others linger, circling tauntingly around the Herald as it visibly destabilizes before your eyes. And yet there are handfuls that fly towards you, the architect of their release.

Listening to the choir is an exercise in madness. You shut out the loudest of them, batting away the ones that get too close for comfort, as if to enter your own body. But there are those that keep their respectful distance. Each one is a spark, a flash in the pan that would have otherwise been ignored or unable to be discerned. But united, their emotions are a bonfire that you can almost touch.

Surprise/Disbelief/Curiosity/Gratitude/

But the Herald is not yet finished. Even as the flesh of its arm seems to crack and ossify, it has enough strength left to clasp the Liar’s Blade. The remaining Godstones flare an ominous cherry-red as they call upon all their remaining power. And even as it continues to bleed both blood and souls, the Herald begins to draw out the weapon through both brute strength and the Force...

“Oh no you don’t...” Spitting out a globule of blood, you stand on trembling legs. Blood runs down the length of your arm, dripping from your fingertips as you reach out with the Force and arrest the creature’s movement...

>>Please give me an opposed Force Pull/Push Check.
>Roll 2d10+8 (+3 Resolve, +5 Affinity, +1 Skill)
>Best out of three.

Rolled 9, 9 + 8 = 26 (2d10 + 8)

>>4493992

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Rolled 2, 8 + 8 = 18 (2d10 + 8)

>>4493992

>>4493997
Pic Related

Rolled 2, 4 + 8 = 14 (2d10 + 8)

>>4493992

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>>4493997
What in the goddamned hell is with all these nines people are rolling for Force checks. Like, holy shit. Two 9,9 rolls for two separate Sever Force checks in the last thread, and now one here for Force Push.

/qst/ please.

...that's definitely something worth a reward.

>>4494006
The Dice Gods clearly have issues with force abominations.

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>>4494012
I almost feel bad for the freak in the force. Almost.

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>>4493997
What with this quest and amazing rolls wtf

>>4494092
Dice gods want to be off space Vietnam as much as we do.

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>>4493997

>>4494092
We did something that was so amazingly based in the first few threads that the dice gods decided to reward us
Throughly BLEACHing a Torgruta Tomboy and ruining her for non pink men

Enter Chadren

>>4494196
>Enter
>not ENTER
Fuck is that pussy shit?

>>4494196
Did you have a stroke?

I'm starting to think Farren is the real Chosen One.

Also I wonder what would've happened if Vader visited the ghost room.

>>4494249
Farren is the Second Choice.

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>>4493997
>>4494000
>>4494001
There is no need for subtleties. The time for applying the scalpel has long since passed. Now, it is the time for the hammer, and all the power you can muster along with it.

Time seems to slow as the kinetic energy smashes against the Herald like waves against a mighty rock. Your mind turns inwards. A hidden reserve of strength suddenly wells within you, bolstering your attack and beleaguered mind. The pain of exertion, like a million needles stabbing into your brain, is a welcome sensation. It hones your thoughts, concentrates them into physical action, a great restraint that holds the Liar’s Blade within the Herald’s core.

...yet it isn’t enough. Even wounded neigh unto death and hemorrhaging power, the abomination still has plenty of fight and vigor left within its body. For all of your strength, it’s all you can do to slow its actions. The best you can manage is delay the Blade’s withdrawal, turning centimeters into millimeters, instants into seconds as more of the weapon slides out of the core...

But that delay gives your companion more than enough time.

Suddenly appearing at your side is Master Kosa. The twi’lek spins the Sunspear in her hands, wielding it as if the weapon had been made for her hands. The severed flesh hooks that once kept her in bondage hang limply as she rears back, pulling the weapon to gather power for a final blow.

“You really want the damned thing that badly?!” Spittle flies from her mouth as the Force gathers in her arm. And all nine of the embedded Godstones shine as bright as suns with every second that passes. “Fine, I’ll give it to you right now!”

Even as the act of throwing the weapon breaks several bones, Kosa’s scream is one of triumph, not pain, as it lances towards the Herald’s core. It becomes a length of glare, a dazzling bolt that crackles with the Living Force. It streaks across the inner sanctum, turning darkness into day as it blasts into the Herald’s core.

It had to have been intentional design that causes the Sunspear to impact the hilt of the Liar’s Blade. The scream of the Herald reaches a new height as the weapon is driven further into its core. As more cracks appear along its surface, more of its blood and souls escape from the fissures.

Kosa stumbles against you, cradling an arm broken in three places. The price of throwing the spear was high, but one willingly paid. Her eyes meet with yours as she lifts her remaining arm, lending her power to your own.

gODS doN'T dIE GoDs doN't diE goDS DoN'T DiE

You can hear its voice now, truly hear it. Even with one eardrum blown out and the other bleeding heavily, the Herald’s scream causes the very ground to shake. Its vines splay wildly, thrashing as if to grab something to steady itself, to cling onto as the weapons drive deeper into its core.

mOTHeRrrRrRrRrrrRrrrrR

(cont.)

>>4494479
>mOTHeRrrRrRrRrrrRrrrrR
I should not be enjoying the pain and fear of another being, but I have to admit it's supremely satisfying.

On an unrelated note, you guys think Master Kosa knows we've been sleeping with our best frienemy? I mean, Master Larid figured it out, sure, but he's also a Jedi superspy.

More concerningly, if she DOES know, how much of the time heading back to him is going to be filled with disapproving speeches and stares? "Thank you, padawan, your assistance was both welcome and necessary, you saved both of our lives...now, let me explain why your genitals need to stay in your Force-damned robes for the next eight hours."

>>4494514
If she starts fucking lecturing us she can stay for the Base Delta Zero.

>>4494517
I'd assume she'd have the common sense to wait until we were in hyperspace to really get going.

>>4494521
Time to find out what happens if you eject somebody from an airlock while in hyperspace.

>>4494479
There is a quiet sound, no louder than a window breaking, as the Herald’s core shatters into a million pieces. And even before the first deafening crack, you grab Master Kosa, flinging her behind a fallen pillar. No sooner do you take cover and throw yourself to the ground does the Herald of Jombaral turn into pure energy, the life-stuff of the universe...

...before exploding with a tremendous noise.

In an instant later, molten globs of bloody effluvium paint the inner sanctum in a tide of red and amber. You can’t help but scream as one the size of your fist falls upon your shoulder, and you hurriedly throw your cloak off before it can burrow deeper into your flesh. Kosa keeps her head down, cradling her broken arm, hissing as the final rumblings of the aftershock ride themselves out.

When the dust finally settles, you see the Sunspear standing up from a large chunk of meat, and a chorus of souls dancing high above the cieling. The body is just as irregular and formless as the crater that ensconces it. All white, you realize with a start, staring in both amazement and horror at the creature impaled upon the lance.

The whites of its bones are visible from where skin and muscle had melted from the heat of the blast. One of its arms is little more than a smoking ruin, and the other plucks at the air feebly. The shattered remnants of its feet dig shallow furrows into the earth, lacking any strength to move its ruined body. Blood drops from the mess of its head, a mouth gaped open in a silent scream.

The Herald of Jombaral is no more.

All that remains is the mutilated, dying Child of Boslzoh.

=[APOTHEOSIS DENIED]=

Clearing your throat, you turn towards the master. “...are you alright, Master Kosa?”
The twi’lek grimaces. “...considering the last few months, this is the best I’ve ever felt in a very long time. And you? The thing that landed upon your shoulder...”

Both of your eyes turn to the ruined lump of your cloak, no more than a patchwork mess of wool. Whatever had splattered upon it has already worked its way through more than half of the black cloth.

“...just a tickling scratch...” You grimace as you nearly stumble from a sudden sense of vertigo. “I’ve got some medical supplies in the shuttle-”

"...waiiiiit..." the Child moans, causing you both to start in its direction. The albino Kakari mewls pitifully, choking on its own blood in a feeble attempt to dislodge the spear pinning it to the ground. "...pleaasssseeeee..."

>>What will you do?
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.
>Retrieve the Sunspear, Godstones and Liar’s Blade without killing the Child.
>Custom option. [Write-in.]

[VOTE OPEN FOR FIVE HOURS]

>>4494514
>Implying Master Kosa isn’t somehow the one who orchestrated the relationship so that her hothead student could have someone to balance her out without being overpowered by her

>>4494525
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.
Lightsaber out, on, and ready for any trickery, of course. First sign of any sneaky bullshit, leave nothing but ash.

>>4494525
>Walk over to hear its last words, but grab onto the spear in case of any funny business
I hope we can loot the Sunspear or the Liar’s Blade, ya’know the good shit past getting our girlfriend and her mom

>>4494525
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.

>>4494525
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.

>>4494527
"Truly, I am a clever woman. This will mellow out my apprentice, give her an outlet for her competitive urges until those fade, and in the end she'll be able to simply walk away from the tryst with no connections as a true Jedi should. After all, a bit of teenage fumbling around shouldn't be enough pleasure to actually risk dependence or the like. Don't you agree, Master Larid?"
"...I'm almost insulted you think my protege's training is lacking in any area whatsoever, and it is also quite obvious you've never slept with a human. I'm going to go convince my padawan I believe unicorns to be both real and plotting against the senate, let me know when this all goes horribly wrong so I can giggle maniacally about it."

>>4494525
>>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.
>>4494546
sad thing is that sounds like Larid.

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>>4494546

>>4494541
Support. I don't trust that little shit.

>>4494549
>>4494552
Glad you both approve. I can see why Kaz wrote Larid the way he did, that was entirely too fun, and I may have to put in another commission from kaz that's literally just a few pages of Larid fucking with his increasingly concerned/annoyed/confused padawan, because the man is like a drug.

>>4494525
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.

>>4494525
>Approach the Child to hear its final words before putting it out of its misery.

>>4494567
>The water is turning the freaking Gungans gay!

>>4494525
How much time does the Child have? Could we bring him to space to see the universe outside before he dies?

>>4494739
Anon, I'm all for showing sympathy to the guy, but there's being kind to your dying enemy, and then there's going overboard with it. He gets a hug from his grandma on his deathbed (if she's not been splatted) and a "Well done, son" from the 1/50th of his ghost amalgamation dad that loved his mom, and that's what he'll get.

>>4494525
>=[APOTHEOSIS DENIED]=

What would have happened if he actually underwent it?

>>4494980
Ever see End of Evangelion?

>>4494991
I doubt Tang was gonna be a part of it, anon.

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>>4494980

>>4495036
>it actually was Evangelion
Glad we stopped that then.

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>>4495036
>Our master when he learns that we killed the baby version of fucking Zeruel

I fucking knew that red orb and face looked familiar in >>4489842, good shit Kaz

>>4494527
>>4494539
>>4494541
>>4494544
>>4494545
>>4494549
>>4494615
>>4494629
“Padawan-” Kosa warns forebodingly, but you advance towards the Child’s position. The twi’lek master looks indignant, but doesn’t offer any further obstacle. Thus unobstructed, and with your lightsaber clenched in a bloody hand, you approach the creature that was once the Herald of Jombaral.

You keep a close eye on the nearby vegetation. What foliage hadn’t been scorched into ashes by the explosion is already starting to regenerate. But you sense no malice, no active will behind their rapid reconstruction. Without the guidance of the Herald, the plants’ behavior doesn’t appear to be any different than a wild animal, simply heeding their baser instincts and biological function.

The same could not nearly be said for their former master. It’s signature in the Force is pitifully weak. The Child has only minutes at the most. You don’t expect any trouble from it, let alone any final attacks out of spite or desire to take you with him. But you can’t be too careful.

The Godstones both within the spear and scattered across the sanctum have lost their luster. Dull and dim, they feel and appear no different than mundane rocks as you gather them. And with a rather anti-climactic noise as you insert the last of the prisms, all twelve of the Godstones have been restored to the Sunspear.

The Child gasps as you grasp onto the weapon pinning it to the ground. His sickly eyes rotate wildly in their sockets before they focus sharply upon you. “...Farren Gaelle...”

“That’s my name,” you grunt, “Don’t go wearing it out.”

The burbling, rasping noise to come out of the ruins of his throat could almost be interpreted as laughter. “...Accuser-slayer...Sings-of-Devouring-Darkness...titles that more than match the memories...pulled from the minds...of your lover and her master...”

Your grip on your ‘saber tightens at the mention of Arotta. If the last thing the Child wants to do is crow and act smug, then better for you to just get it over now. “Glad to see I lived up to them-”

“-but your memories...” he interrupts, “...your memories...just as you saw mine...” The creature pauses to take a breath, and your blood runs cold even before he finishes. “...you saw my life...and I saw yours...”

The Child pauses, clasping at the haft of the Sunspear, almost caressing it. “...all I ever wanted...was the recognition of my tribe...and the love that Mother gave me...when no one else...”

“...she loved you,” you offer hesitantly. “Bos...erm, your grandmother. Boslzoh. She told me that Boscuatl pled for both her life and yours before the elders.”

He holds his silence for a long moment before he intones, “...I saw that she did...in the memories...ripped from the elders...”

“...was it worth it?

(cont.)

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>>4495213
>>4495219
*farren's deja vu intensifies*

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>>4495219
Four thousand years of suffering. Billions of lives lost and a race hovering on the brink of extinction. A planet forever scarred and terraformed beyond recognition. Jombaral may have been the means and enabler for the atrocities, but it was the Child who brought the False Mother to the people of Kakarit.

The Child offers no immediate answer. But even in the silence, you can sense its emotions, complicated mess as they are. But out of the dominant feelings, impotent rage and melancholic sorrow...there is not a single shred of remorse or regret.

His eyes narrow, and his mouth curls in a sneer. “...I would have become a god...Mother promised me her love... and with power, I could do anything...I would have my heart’s desire...”

You allow yourself a brief surge of disgust and contempt to course through your body. It comes and goes quickly. And you have to go through the extra effort to squash the pang of sympathy. An unintended consequence of viewing the Child’s life.

But you’d draw a hard line in the sand for sympathy. The words tread far too close to the philosophies of the Dark Side for your own comfort. Even if the taint isn’t there within the Wild Force, it’s still something that you’re to loathe on principle.

Your lightsaber hums as you bring it towards the Child’s throat. “...you would have been a god over a mindless horde. The adherents of a deity are just as much a reflection of the faith as is to the god itself.”

“...we would have expanded...brought more Children into the fold...”

And thank the Force that didn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen, if you had anything to say or do about it either. You can’t help but sneer, “...you still would have been no different than a slave. Or an attack dog. No matter how you slice it, you’d still be little more than Jombaral’s lapdog.”

“...if not me...” the Child rasps, “...then someone else...Mother would have descended...and met someone else...better me...better an abomination...well-versed in the Communion...to protect the Kakari...learn her secrets...”

The ‘saber trembles as you angrily retort, “Don’t you dare try to say that you did what you did for the good of the Kakari! There’s barely eight hundred left of them! Fending off extinction with such a small populace-”

“...would have been dead...another thousand years...scorched...by the sun...” His eyes turn to meet yours one final time. “...desert became jungle...jungle brought the war...brought the Clones...brought the droids with their ark...brought Arotta Bashur...and brought Farren Gaelle...to save the Kakari...”

That nearly causes you to drop your lightsaber. The implications of such a chain of events...but hadn’t all the masters in the Jedi Temple say that the Force works in mysterious ways? Back on Mylar-3, when you had debated between completing your training and pursuing Arotta...surely, that wasn’t...

(cont.)

>>4495236
...the existential crisis can be addressed for another time, in another place. You have mentors far better suited, and more emotionally balanced, to give counsel. There is of course, Master Larid. But along the way since the end of the war, you’ve picked up more teachers: Master Kreia within her Holocron, Master Aure back on Mylar-3, Grand Shamanka Bos...even Master Kosa.

You reverse the golden blade, and hold it just above the Child’s heart. The lingering spirits overhead stir into a frenzy of motion and activity as the death of the Herald draws near. “...I refuse to accept that justification. You couldn’t have known how those events would have played out.”

“...I don’t expect you to...” It blinks slowly, almost languidly as if it’s only preparing for a nap. “...but before you do what thousands of other Kakari warriors and shamen were unable to do...

“...you saw more than my life...you saw my parentage...my experience with your memories...I saw your mother...and your sire...”

In any other event, you might have been embarrassed. The visions of the Accuser and Boscuatl had been nothing but explicit. But the mention of Alleana causes your thoughts to grind to a complete halt.

“...the universe would go cold, and Uliea ground to dust before my love faded away...”

The Child’s words are distant as it hisses, “...your sire...is not what your mother...made out to be...beware, Farren Gaelle...beware the Corsairs of the Sapphire Star...”

“...I’ll keep that in mind,” you answer stiffly, raising your lightsaber for the final blow.

“...perhaps in another life...” wheezes the creature, closing its eyes, “...we might have been friends...even brothers...”

“...a pity it wasn’t this one.”

And with a single stroke, you grant him as quick death as you are able, a clean death better than what he probably deserves...

>>You have gained the following:
>Aberration Bane (Trait) – when fighting against Force Entities, add an additional 1d9 to rolls made against them.
>Force Pull/Push 2 (Force Power) – the iconic telekinesis of every Jedi, determining lifting limit and push power.

>>Speaking of Bos, let’s check on her and Sings-of-Splitting-Stone, shall we?

>>Please roll me 3d10+15 for how well Bos and Sings-of-Splitting-Stone did against the Guardian.
>Best out of five.

Rolled 6, 5, 4 + 15 = 30 (3d10 + 15)

>>4495256

Rolled 3, 5, 10 + 15 = 33 (3d10 + 15)

>>4495256

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>>4495256
F-formatting...

Rolled 6, 5, 10 + 15 = 36 (3d10 + 15)

>>4495256

Rolled 9, 2, 9 + 15 = 35 (3d10 + 15)

>>4495256

>>4495256
dice+3d10+15

Rolled 2, 10, 5 + 15 = 32 (3d10 + 15)

>>4495256
Will my luck last? Find out now!

>>4495260
>>4495261
>>4495264
>>4495266
>>4495269
Our best roll is 36.
May God have mercy on us all.

>>4495272
Still above average. Not phenomenal but not bad.

>>4495272
We can't complain with the dice rolls we had against the herald

>>He killed billions...
>>to save eight hundred
>presented as a valid argument as to the Herald's Actions because muh force works in mysterious ways
*Kreia disliked that*

>>4495584
Farren has to accept it may be a twisted sense of good instead of treating it as the pure unethical madness it is because only Sith deal in absolutes.

What a terrible night to have a code.

>>4495584
But think of the trillions who will be born in ththe distant future! The kakari as a race were saved, and that's more valuable than any number of individuals. My moral value is plus infinity.

>>4495601
It's kind of hard for Farren to accept that the ""best"" outcome is the one where the only a handful of Kakari survive.

Larid, on the other hand...

>>4495601
No. There's no good in this.
It's horseshit that we are even for a moment considering the villain going "keikaku doori." when just moments ago they were attempting to both become a God and also murder us.

>>4495639
They were obviously a fairly advanced race.
They had a 1000 or so years to build a fucking spaceship.
Instead this treefucking retard called down the plant zombie virus and practically doomed his entire race.
This is like Palpatine saying "Well look, I was justified because of all the good that I inadvertently caused by wiping out the jedi!"

>>4495650
>No. There's no good in this.
You're right. We should leave blue tits on the planet to get blasted out of the galaxy.

I'm being facetious. Chill.

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>>4495260
>>4495261
>>4495264
>>4495266
>>4495269
You exit the inner sanctum to see a world ablaze with cleansing flame.

Even without the Spirit Fire that relentlessly licks and devours the wood and loam, the Womb of Jombaral bears the scars of a terrible battle. Upturned stones lay scattered across the sanctum. There are whole trees that have been ripped out by their roots, stained with green-red blood.

Sings-of-Splitting-Stone is nowhere to be found, but an upturned pile of dirt points to its escape from the Womb. You smile, before frowning at a sudden realization. Even free of the Call of Jombaral, there is nowhere for it to go. The best you can hope for it is to enjoy the last few days of freedom before the arrival of the Base Delta Zero.

But Kosa pulls you out of your thoughts, gesturing with her good hand towards something at the foot of the great tree. “Look there.”

Grand Shamanka Bos kneels before the steaming pile of flesh and vines that was once her daughter. She makes no noise beyond half-whispered prayers, a small shadow against the smoldering remains. But even a hundred yards away, the tumultuous storm that is her emotions weigh against you like a heavy rain.

By the time she finishes, you and Kosa have made your descent down the hill. At a cursory glance, Bos doesn’t appear any worse than she had been after the Battle of Nest’s End. Her complexion is still an unhealthy pale, but not nearly the same albinism that her grandson had borne. But in her eyes, there is a tiredness, a strain of fatigue that weighs heavily upon her mind.

Her milky eyes flicker towards the hollow of the great tree. “...is it done...?”

You nod grimly. “It is.”

“I see...” The shamanka turns a wayward glance towards the corpse of the Guardian. “...as is the same for me.”

Uncertain, you hesitantly venture, “Bos, I-”

“Even though the burden was shared between myself and the divine beast, the fact remains that it was with my own hands and gifts as well.” She shakes her head ruefully, chortling scornfully to herself. “...and she only came back when I’d burned away almost everything, and when Splitting-Stone spilled her guts onto the soil.”

The Grand Shamanka claps her hands together, and the fetishes at the end of her staff chime softly in unison. The air within the Womb, already hot and stifling from the flames, grows cold as Bos draws energy from the nearby flames, molding them into a great ball of concentrated heat. And with a furtive gesture, she sends it spiraling towards the Guardian’s corpse.

With a soft whump, the tainted flesh takes to the flame as if it had been doused in accelerant. From how greedily the Spirit Fire devours and withers the Guardian, it will not take long before Boscuatl joins her child as ash in the wind.

"...I had so many years..." she whispers hoarsely. "...but there is nothing that prepares a mother to slay her own daughter..."

(cont.)

You don’t sense that she’s about to lose herself in reverie. But even without the threat of the Herald, the planet and its people are operating on borrowed time. Still, you aren’t just about to offer the otherwise empty and hollow condolences one gives in more civilized societies.

>>How will you respond to Bos?
>“They made their choices. What happened here today was simply the consequences of their actions.”
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”
>Custom option. [Write-In.]

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”
We do what we must for now, the time to feel it is later, as a great man once said “I Ain’t Got Time To Bleed”

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”
Mission first, grieving later.

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”

We can spend time for mourning when we are done here, not now though every second matters like every Kakari on the planet.

>>4495684
>>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”
We still can save countless future sons and daughters, but we have to move quickly.

>>4495684
>>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”

>>4495684
>>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”
A a quintillion sentients under the Emperor's thumb....

>>4495263
You've been doing this for how long now? :^)

>>4495684
>“We don’t have any time to give into emotion. There’s eight hundred Kakari that still need our help.”

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>>4495713
>>4495717
>>4495731
>>4495759
>>4495769
>>4495921
>>4495937
>>4496090
>>4496194
Bos sighs, shaking her head as she falls into line beside you. “Yes, you’re right of course. All of you young ones can move with all the vigor and haste...” She pauses, clasping your forearm and looks straight into your eyes. “But I would hope for you sake that you will never have to experience what I had.”

...considering what happened over the course of the last few days (or in her case, four thousand years), there’s a lot to unpack in that statement.

Kosa interjects, “Such a think will never happen. Jedi are forbidden from having children.”

For the first time, the sole brunt of the Grand Shamanka’s attention turn towards the twi’lek. It’s not obviously hostile, but there’s an edge in her voice. “You must be Master...Kosa, I presume?”

“That’s right.”

“I see...” Her milky eyes trace up and down. “...you look diminished, Jedi. I think that I should still have some bone broth back in Nest’s End...but what did the Herald tell you about his past?”

The sudden abruptness of her change in tone nearly causes you to stumble. But Kosa is unperturbed, replying, “He told me nothing. He was too busy trying to rip my mind into pieces and suck all the blood out of my body for the Larvae.”

But she pauses, glancing towards the burning corpse of the Guardian. “...but I can put two and two together. And with all the awfulness that happened, and what I saw that...abomination do to my Clones...”

Silence falls as the three of you make your way back into the antechamber. And then Bos intones softly, “...even before the Call of Jombaral...it was rare, but not unheard of, for apprentices to turn to darker dreams and desires. And it fell to the respective master to rectify the...mistake.

“Make no mistake, Jedi. Blood is not the only thing that can bind two people together. The bond between master and apprentice takes many forms; brotherhood, sisterhood...parenthood...your Jedi Order is no different, I assume?”

Even as you blanch at the sharpness of her tone, Kosa merely nods in response.

“...then I hope for your sake as well that you never have to experience what I had. Surrogate brother and sister...or surrogate son and daughter...”

>>Line Break

To his credit, the B-1 pilot of the Sheathepede hadn’t otherwise cut tail and fled. The shuttle is where you had left it, albeit covered in enough gore to pass off as a modern art masterpiece. Courtesy of the damned porgs.

“I thought there’d still be more here,” you remark to the pilot as you ease Master Kosa into a bunk. And to a nearby storage locker, you consign the recovered treasure. The Sunspear and Liar’s Blade remain on your person, but you relinquish the plundered mace and shield.

(cont.)

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“Whenever you did what you did, the birds scattered, sir.” The pilot looks despairingly at a windshield splattered with a prodigious amount of feces. “...I just wish that you hadn’t done it while they were in mid-air. They seized something awfully and started defecating mid-air-”

Hurriedly, you inquire, “Any damaged parts?”

“No, sir. We’re good to go whenever you’re ready...”

Kosa hisses, scratching at the splint you’d set for her broken arm. Grimly, she sucks at an emergency IV, a nutrient-rich liquid designed as a supplement on survival missions. It should hold her out until you return to the Globus...although now that you think about it, it would be very strange for a Separatist ship to carry twi’lek blood in its medical ward.

To your right, Bos settles back into her seat. The only decadence she elects to indulge in is the heated cushion. The Grand Shamanka remains brooding, head resting atop her interlaced hands as she stares off in the direction of the Antechamber.

“Take us to the Heart of Kakarit.”

“Roger, roger.”

Just before the shuttle gains its bearings, Bos casts one final look towards the Womb of Jombaral. Already, the outermost layers are already peeling away, withering at the sheer heat of the Spirit Fire. What cracks and holes become available paint a picture of hell on earth, a blazing, smoking inferno that consumes all in its path.

...you leave her to her ruminations. As the sheathepede gains altitude and speed, you plug into the communication console. It doesn’t take too long for the ship to clear the dead zone; once the pressure equalizes and you register signals, you radio: “Albatross, Globus, this is Gaelle speaking. Confirming exfiltration of Jedi Master Uyer Kosa and destruction of the Herald of Jombaral. How goes the evacuation, over?”

You expected Suzel and Elba to break protocol and transmit whoops of joy. Not so much with Commander Skipp. Even Octavia, to your surprise, screams something in some foreign tongue. Not that you need a translator to hear the relief in her voice, a sentiment shared with the other three on the radio.

Even as you roll your eyes, you can’t help but grin. When Master Larid hears about what you did...that’s a moment you can’t wait to tell him in person. “...yeah, I know. But that doesn’t tell me a whole lot about the status of the refugees.”

“We’ve got most of them settled on the ship,” answers the Clone, “Just a few stragglers left that’re coming out of the caverns. We had a few close calls with some of the Children harrying the shuttles, but Mercantor’s droids and your crew held them off.”

Octavia cuts in, “I took a recording, Gaelle. For perpetuity’s sake. You need to see the way the damned weeds just...stopped. Seems that killing the Herald made them all stupid. If they didn’t just sit there soaking up sunlight, then they just went ballistic and lost any forms of cohesion.”

(cont.)

“I can’t wait to see it,” you answer honestly. “Our ETA is...”
“Just under an hour, sir,” the pilot answers helpfully, “Maybe a little more if we open the throttle a little bit. The caverns are narrow, but I analyzed the flight pattern you took-”

“What the droid said.”

A silence on the other line as they run the math. Elba grunts, and Suzel answers, “Yeah, you’d, uh...you’d get here just in time with the last convoy. Just a whole bunch of beasts of burden and their laborers.”

Your voice takes on a warning tone: “...verified untainted?”

“I swear it on my ancestors’ spirits, boss.”

You know little about the Nagai culture in the short time you knew both Suzel and his mother. But you remember enough to know that invoking one’s ancestors is meant to be a mark of utter seriousness.

“...right.” Coughing, you change the subject. “How’s Prince Troxl?”

You can hear the grin in Skipp’s voice as he answers, “The prince is doing the lion’s share of the work. Every other shuttle back to Nest’s End, he’s been on or otherwise fighting off any hostile Children.”

Good for him. Troxl has a bright future as a respected hero of his people. “And of the Warrior-King?”

Octavia doesn’t even bother hiding her sneer. “Once he and his cadre had settled in, all they wanted to do was go exploring. Something about paying one last visit to the halls of their ancestors. His Highness didn’t even bother checking on the rest of his people.”

That’s...disappointing. Still, Trax seems to have otherwise come to terms with the evacuation. Honestly, you'd expected more of a fuss. At the very least, sulking is something you'd accept.

“I understand. Have everyone be ready for our arrival-”

>>Roll 1d100 Encounter.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>4496286

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>4496286

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>4496286
One last go.

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>>4496289
>>4496291
>>4496296
Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee's Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!

>>4496303
We have an extra 1d9, that bitch is as good as dead.

>>4496325
She made Palps at the height of his power sweat. Odds are she rolls something like 5d20+40 or some bullcrap.

>>4496332
I believe anon was performing "sarcasm".

>>4496303
Cool I didn't expect to see Mando Waifu so soon.

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>>4496289
>>4496291
>>4496296
Without any warning, klaxon alarms ring out from the ship’s computer. Not the shuttle’s but rather the consoles on the other end of the line. Whatever your friends had been about to say are drowned out by a cacophony of alerts and sirens. Out of sheer instinct, you rip the headset off your ears as the radio enters a hair-raising feedback loop.

Once all the ringing disappears from your good ear, you demand: “The hell was that?!”

They don’t answer immediately. Depressing the TALK button doesn’t even yield static. Either they cut the line, or something else did, and you really aren’t sure which one is the worst.

“Albatross and Globus, respond, now! What the hell’s going on?!”

For the second time in a single hour, Octavia’s professional and cool demeanor cracks. The commodore isn’t able to keep the dread out of her voice as she transmits: “A whole gods-damned fleet just warped into the system! The radar’s tracking four, five...nine, eleven fourteen...there’s too many of them for us to put targeting solutions on! They’re just out of the range of our sensors-”

“Not ours!” interjects Suzel, “Elba, B-33, get those scanners up and sounding towards...edge of the system, bearing 022-075...”

Your blood runs cold. Even before they can identify the ships, you already know the likely classes they are, the firepower they mount, and whose loyalty they belong to.

“They’re all Star Destroyers!” shouts Suzel, “Identifying three Imperial-class, seven Venator-class, eight Victory-class...ten other large cruisers...the computer doesn’t recognize any of them!”

The Empire has finally arrived to Kakarit.

And the Sith Lord, the Man in Black who was fearful of Jombaral, isn’t taking any chances.

Dimly, in the back of your mind, the timing couldn’t be any better...or worse, actually.

Before anyone can get their head screwed on tight, a terrible noise overrides the communication network. Even without a headset, both Kosa and Bos cringe at the harsh noise, a warbling, oscillating frequency that warps wildly from pitch to pitch.

None of your communications and orders get through to your friends. But just when the airwaves clear, it isn’t the voice of either Octavia or Skipp, Suzel or Elba, that answers.

“This is Moff Tarkin of the Galactic Empire,” the voice intones with a clipped, but powerful tonality. It is a cultured voice, but one with a distinct undercurrent of a savage ruthlessness. “To any survivors within the quarantine, lower your shields and be prepared to be taken into custody. You have thirty minutes to comply before we begin orbital bombardment.”

The message repeats once, and then cuts off with a harsh squawk that lingers in your head, even after the last echo fades away.

The B-1 droid is the first to break the silence. “Uh...sir?”

(cont.)

>>4496385
Oh this is a toughie...

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>>4496385
>“They’re all Star Destroyers!”
>“Identifying three Imperial-class, seven Venator-class, eight Victory-class...ten other large cruisers"
>“This is Moff Tarkin of the Galactic Empire”

oh
uh
well shit its Tarkie and the pizza pizzaz troupe

>>4496385
“Open the throttle all the way!” you shout frantically, mind racing a mile per second, “Get us to the Heart as fast as you can!”

You’re almost flung back into your seat as the B1 obeys, throwing all caution to the wind and (most) of the regulations for organic travel. Kosa grits her teeth audibly as the vibrations rattle her arm something awfully. And even without the knowledge of the greater galaxy, Bos seems to have picked up enough context clues to know that something terrible has happened.

“Tarkin?!” Octavia doesn’t even bother to hide her panic. “Of all the people your Empire could send to the planet, they sent that emaciated skeleton?!”

You grimace. “Not my Empire, Mercantor. And he seems to have brought company.”

“Twenty-eight fully-armed and operational battle cruisers, to be precise,” Suzel adds.

More than enough for a Base Delta Zero, you grimly think to yourself. The Sith Lord seems to be really pulling out all the stops for this one. You don’t think you ever saw more than five Venators in any given moment...baring the SNAFU that was the Battle of Coruscant.

But that’s neither here nor there. Tarkin is a name you’re familiar enough with. In the correspondence you shared with Skywalker over the course of the Clone Wars, the name had come up more than once. You’d never met the man, but the glowing praise your friend had for the man spoke volumes in his stead.

"Erm...he said we have thirty minutes..." offers the Nagai hesitantly. "Not saying we're gonna actually surrender. He seems to be a big deal, but is he trustworthy about that time frame?"

Maybe there’d been a report Master Larid had hidden away that you can't remember having glanced at...

>>Roll 2d6 + 4 Lore. (+2 Intellect, +2 Skill)
>Best out of three.

Rolled 4, 1 + 4 = 9 (2d6 + 4)

>>4496436
watch me roll 1,1

Rolled 2, 4 + 4 = 10 (2d6 + 4)

>>4496436
:O

Rolled 4, 2 + 4 = 10 (2d6 + 4)

>>4496436
here we go again

Rolled 3, 1 + 4 = 8 (2d6 + 4)

>>4496436
>2d6 + 4

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I go to sleep for a couple of hours and THIS happens.

>>4496455
Don't worry, it's only one of the most competent officers in the Empire leading a disproportionately huge fleet. Maybe he's here for exotic fruits.

>>4496500
Then give him all the exotic fruits he can fit in his belly. Palpatine's robes will dissolve in sweat when he finds out that one of his Moffs now belongs to Jombaral.

>>4496455
Well, I guess we all know what YOU'RE never allowed to do again.

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>>4496443
>>4496445
>>4496447
You know just as much as the next person knows, and perhaps a little more. During the Clone Wars, then-Captain Tarkin had distinguished himself as an incredibly competent officer. The finer details of his specific battles escape you, but what you remember paints the image of a man who would pay any price for victory.

Skywalker’s messages spoke of approval for his blunt and often questionable methods. Some of the battles caused even you to blanch. More troubling was his...disdain for the Jedi as a whole. He might not have said it outright, but his actions spoke of a fundamental disagreement with the Jedi Code.

And of course, there was the entire mess that was the Trial of Ahsoka Tano, and Tarkin’s aggressive persecution of the togruta padawan. Skywalker had been beside himself for that one, as he was her master. But those events are neither here nor there. And your involvement didn’t extend beyond a second opinion.

“...when he says that he’s giving us thirty minutes...” You pause to let the gravity of your words sink into everyone listening. “...I’d honestly be surprised if he gave us five upon arrival.”

No one has an immediate answer to that. Coughing, you continue, “How far out are they from the planet?”

“Their ETA is approximately ten minutes,” answers Suzel.

“...and the last of those refugees?”

“...still a while out...” exhales Skipp. “But they doubled their speed as soon as the armada warped into the system. I wouldn’t give them more than twenty minutes...maybe shorter if they dumped their livestock.”

In conclusion: there’s no feasible way for you to get into Nest’s End without the orbital bombardment at least starting in some way, shape or form.

“...how strong is this shield again, Gaelle?” You can almost envision Octavia glancing up towards the twelve dancing masks. “Because I can tell you right now that even if I diverted all of the power to the shields on the Globus, we’d still be in a world of hurt.”

“Strong enough to withstand several hundred meteor strikes at a single moment.”
“And how well does that translate to turbolaser salvos?”

“I don’t know,” you snap back, “The relief and hieroglyphs in the temple only showed the Godseye being used a s a shield or a weapon-”

...hang on a moment.

“Gaelle? What’s going on? Your transmission cut all of a sudden.”

You ignore her, turning towards the Grand Shamanka. “Bos?”

The Kakari pauses in her reverie. “Yes, Farren?”

“...are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“No, because reading your mind when we’re this close would be extremely rude.”

(cont.)

She has a point there.

“Gaelle, respond,” demands Octavia.

Slowly, you depress the TALK button and speak to all of the assembled: “I think I have an idea.”

>>What are you thinking of?
>Have Octavia deploy all of her droid fighters, and send the Albatross into the air to buy some time.
>Launch the Globus as the first to escape, and use the Albatross to rendezvous with the refugees.
>Maintain the shield and weather the storm of Base Delta Zero until the last refugees arrive.
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT HOURS.]

Could the Godseye even manage that long at full power? 28 ships, and the sunstones arent charged.

We could have Octavia launch and distract them with a token request to delay, but a surprise attack will only do so much and Tarkin seems like the kind of guy whos okay with losing a few ships to end a planet.

>>4496578
I think that if we eliminate enough ships, the Base Delta Zero will be delayed long enough for everyone to get out, but at the same time we want all of the Children on Kakarit to burn. Therefore, the optimal strategy might be to sacrifice some droid fighters and shoot the Godseye once, so not only will the Kakari get out but Tarkin might also believe that we've exhausted all our options.
Then again, I'm assuming Tarkin hasn't spotted the outbound ships, because if he had then he would just skip the grace period and open fire.

i cant decide
pls someone make a clever writein i can vote for

In my opinion, launching fighters isn't going to do anything unless they're helping us run the blockade, and the shield will just show the fleet where to focus fire. Firing the Godseye might do the same, but it could screw with sensors as well as panic the gunners, which would help tremendously more. Innacurate fire at the planet is better than the alternative, and the Globus' shields can handle the occasional errant round. Once the refugees are on board, we can launch the fighters to help us get out of the gravity well intact. So to begin with:
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.

>ten other large cruisers
I really hope those aren't Interdictors, or this is gonna be a real short trip.

>>4496732
Interdictor ships weren't even being produced until the Civil War, as far as I know.

At least not Imperial ones.

>>4496638
>>4496730
Would it be possible to give Tarkin the raspberry?

>>4496556
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.
we only need to hold on long enough to complete the evacuation.

Whatever we choose, him seeing a threat planetside will make it easier for Octavia to get out.

Wonder if we can warn Tarkin that none of this is actually going to kill the mega force entity floating in space.

What about in addition using the force with both Uyer and Farren to create some small malfunctions on the machines of the imperial ships ahead ? They are both exhausted, so it's likely they would pass out. But it could buy us more time.

>>4496811
From that distance it would take someone on Palpatine's level.

>>4496556
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.
I guess this is the best option we have.

>>4496811
Too far, too big, too many. Firing the Godseye at them will accomplish the same thing.

>>4496816
I dunno man, Star Killer was able to pull a Destroyer from orbit and he was just some randos kid. Surely we, a dude who's been through some serious shit, and a Jedi master could do SOMETHING, right?

>>4496556
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack

Way I see it this planet's getting glassed anyways, and the giant orbital laser will provide SOME distraction while everyone else books it. You think Bos could teach the younglings force fire?

>>4496827
I think Bos is about ready to kick the bucket or stuff herself in a holocron.

>>4496827
>Star Killer
at his best was somebody almost --is not completely-- on par with Vader

>>4496832
Oh, good idea. I just wanna be sure we nab any and all knowledge possible from her. With the order practically dead it's best we seek NEW knowledge while saving as much as we can of the past.

>>4496835
Call me a cocky shit but I think we'd survive an encounter with Vader. Not in a straight up fight mind you but running for our lives.

>>4496556
>>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.

>>4496840
We'd roll perfectly for 7 rolls in a row and end up cutting off his arms and legs.

>>4496556
>Turn off the shield and direct the glare of the Godseye against the incoming attack.

>>4496816
>>4496822
if you say so. What about just the incoming nearest imperial ship then ? They are moving towards the planet so the distance is closing at least.

How powerful is the godseye beam?

>>4496863
We don't know. That's part of the problem.

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>>4496851
>Vader's fw some one cuts off his arms and legs again

>>4496863
I'd wager strong enough to do SOME damage versus an unprepared SD, otherwise why include the option at all?

>>4496884
If it can shield the ?whole planet? then its gotta be strong as fuck, right?

>>4497041
The shield only protects the city of the Heart of Kakarit. It is not a planet-wide shield.

Writing...

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>>4496730
>>4496791
>>4496820
>>4496827
>>4496844
>>4496853

To say that your idea was met with unanimous approval would be a lie. Suzel and Elba can’t complain, as you’re technically their boss. Skipp, for all of his wariness, seems to trust what you’re saying. It certainly helps matters that you’d fought alongside him in the Battle of Nest’s End.

Octavia, to no-one’s surprise, is sole dissenting voice.

“Did you eat any of that tainted fruit?” she demands. “Or perhaps fall on your head on the way down somewhere?”

Rolling your eyes, you dryly respond, “Standard SOP for Base Delta Zero is to send waves of fighters and bombers to clear out any resistance. As it stands, the shield only paints a big, red...erm, blue target on our position. We’re practically waving at them.”

The commodore makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “You keep adding surcharges to the tab that I don’t think you can pay, Jedi. If the shield goes down, we’re sitting ducks in a gods-damned barrel.”

“You still have your AA and point-defense turrets, don’t you?” you counter. “I watched your gunners blast a tree trunk out of the sky. And I don’t think that the guns on a starfighter would barely put a dent in the Globus’ shields. Even with proton torpedoes. You’d have to wait for the Star Destroyers to come before you have to start worrying.

“You really aren’t helping your case.” But it seems that cooler heads prevail. Or at least, she’s agreed to disagree, but will grumble along with your orders. “What can I expect for the first wave?”

>>Take 8 on a basic {Lore} Check for Republic Navy SOP.

“ARC-170s, V-Wings, Y-Wing or PTB-Bombers...standard array of Republic Starfighters you could find on a Venator-class Star Destroyer. No more than two or three hundred per ship.”

Octavia barks a harsh, derisive laugh. “And multiply those by twenty eight...”

...oh. Well, when she puts it that way...

Bos, apparently irritated about being left out of the discussion, interjects, “Get me in contact with the Communion. I’ll need to instruct my apprentices on how to use the Godseye...”

It doesn’t take long before the first of the bombs start to fall. Even in the depths of the planet, the shuttle still registers the impacts. The overhead ceiling shudders perilously as a fine layer of dust coats the speeding Sheathepede.

“Engaging!” shouts Octavia. “Weapons free, all fighters and gunships. Protect the Globus at all costs!”

So much for Tarkin’s grace period, you think dryly to yourself.

Just before she cuts the line, you hear a brief impression of laser cannon fire over the line as the entire battery of the Globus opens fire.

(cont.)

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The line crackles again, and Skipp’s voice intones grimly, “They’re already deploying the second and third waves of fighters. It shouldn’t take too long before the first wave of Star Destroyers make geosynchronous orbit.”

“And the refugees?” you ask.

“Oh, they kicked up a fuss about having to leave most of their livestock behind. It took the Prince and a strongly-worded warning for them to comply. ‘sides, it isn’t like the Commodore already turned part of her ship into a barnyard...”

Not like they’re in any danger of starving. As far as anyone is able to tell, the rations in both the hold of the Albatross and the Globus taste just as bad, but are equally palatable to the Kakari.

“Push comes to shove, we can always go back to Kamino with the few we have and ask them to make some more,” you jape. “Do you think we might be able to get a discount if you’re the one that goes up to the kiosk?”

The Clone laughs. “I’ll see you in a short bit, Gaelle.”

>>Twenty minutes later...

The Sheathepede bursts out of the earth, streaking up out of the curst and into the jungles of Kakari. After so many hours underground, the light of the sun is almost painful to look at. You lower the protective filament, basking in its warmth and light as if to cleanse the horrors of the day from your mind...

...and nearly take an entire sink’s worth of laser fire for your moment of brevity.

“Taking evasive maneuvers,” the droid intones almost nonchalantly as it jerks the stick abruptly. “ETA to the Heart of Kakari is less than two minutes.”

That might not be time enough. There’s an entire wing’s worth of ARC-170s chasing after the shuttle. You don’t blame them for otherwise breaking protocol. Escort duty for bombers is dull work. Your shuttle presents the only other target beyond the heavily entrenched and dug-in Globus. Easy pickings.

“If you have the fighters to spare,” you shout into the headset as you take hold of the yoke, “I’d really appreciate you sending some my way, Mercantor!”

"Uh, sir?" the B1 reports, "I'm picking up a squadron of V-Wings closing in at 000-000, straight towards us."

This is going to be a very different experience than dodging suicidal bird-things. Kosa grits her teeth, cradling her hand close to her chest as she braces for any high-G maneuvers. Bos, to her credit, keeps her cool, although her pallor takes on a green hue of nausea.

"Hang on!" you cry, and take the Sheathpede into a wild corckscrew spin.

>>Roll 2d6+8 Piloting. (+3 Finesse, +1 Skill, +4 Droid Assistance)
>Best out of three.

Rolled 5, 6 + 8 = 19 (2d6 + 8)

>>4497313

Rolled 2, 3 + 8 = 13 (2d6 + 8)

>>4497313

Rolled 6, 1 + 8 = 15 (2d6 + 8)

>>4497313

>>4497315
>this_is_where_the_fun_begins.jpg

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>>4497315

>>4497315
Spinning is a DAMN FINE TRICK

>>4497315

rolled so hard you broke Kaz, anon

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>>4497315

I'm taking the day off to catch the Lupin III movie with my D&D buddies. I'll be back with an update later tonight.

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>>4497315
>>4497317
>>4497318
You inhale deeply. Reaching into the Force, you seek the paths of safety, passage through the swarms of heat-seeking ordinance and sizzling nets of particle beams. These paths are few and far between. The ones that involve the avoidance of total destruction are even smaller, and beyond the capabilities of any mere human.

“There is no chaos, there is harmony...”

The droid-brains of the Tri-Fighters and Vulture Droids are the culmination of years of electronic engineering. In a similar manner, the reflexes of a Clone pilot are bred and distilled over years of training and genetic splicing. But the instincts of both are too slow for this chase, even if only the latter have now become your enemies.

A trio of V-Wings streak towards you. Even as they lay down an oppressive blanket of laser fire, you already take the shuttle out of their crossfire. The Force gently nudges your hands, guiding the shuttle through the first of several ambushes and killzoness. You bark an order to the B1 pilot, and the snub-nosed dorsal blasters answer in kind.

One of the interceptors explodes in a ball of smoke and debris, crashing into the jungle canopy as a stray bolt clips its intake valve. The surviving two break off, streaking away in such a manner that another trio of starfighters swoop in to take their place.

Bos looks almost physically ill as you suddenly drop the shuttle into a free fall. As you level up only a handful of meters above the tallest trees, the nausea in her voice is easily heard over the headset. “...is this...a thing typical of...flying in these...metal boxes...?”

...you don’t have an easy answer for her.

Yesterday, there had been nothing wrong with the skies of Kakarit. They had been relatively clear, barring a few clouds that slid lazily overhead. No so much now. It hadn’t been long since the fighters had reached the planet, but the planet’s already begun to suffer the prelude of Base Delta Zero.

Fires have broken out across the jungle. Countless plumes of smoke rise from out of the canopy, almost choking out the sunlight overhead. The fact that the humid environs do nothing to quell the fire only increase your cause for worry. It seems that the Empire’s gone and done what you weren’t able to do back when you’d first stumbled along the Godseye.

But for better or worse, it seems that the death of the Herald hasn’t left the Children of Jombaral completely helpless. Every so often, you’ll see a boulder or blazing tree trunk launched from the dense thickets. More miss than not, but the locals are more than determined to put up a fight.

Futile though it is. For every bomber blasted out of the sky, the Empire responds with overwhelming force. Swarms of proton torpedoes and concussion missiles scream towards probable targets. Scattered geysers of dirt and waves of burning accelerant soon join the burning plumes of smoke.

(cont.)

Rolled 20 (1d20)

Rolling to see how many V-Wings get downed due to porgs getting sucked into their intakes

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>>4500334
Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.

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>>4500334
Deader than a disco dodo, like damn

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>>4500334

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>>4500334
>Porgs when they see anything in the sky that isn't them

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>>4500334

>>4500334
K E K
E
K

GET FUCKED IMPS

>>4500334
I so hope Kaz includes this.

Kaz will you include this? If not for the bonua then for the sheet entertainment value of seeing these corporate kathleen kennedy abortions eat shit?

>>4500514
Bro what are you even saying right now?

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>>4500334

P-pic related.

>>4500514
>V-Wings
>Kathleen Kennedy abortions

...this really gets the noggin joggin'...

>>4500536
I think he's talking about the Porgs.

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>>4500334
>rolled a pointless roll for shits and giggles and to pass the time while waiting for an update, then goes out for dinner when it wasn't showing for some reason
>checks on thread after dinner for update
>got a nat fucking 20 on porg suicide sabotage

...Okay.

>>4500536
Trust me, I'm just as confused as you are as to how this happened.

I for one am very excited

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>>4500174
The Force squeezes a warning. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the Clones haven’t only reserved their ordinance for the Children of Jombaral. You twist the yoke, putting the shuttle into a wild spin as a borderline swarm of high-yield explosives screams towards the ship
.
The weapons panel screams a warning as the snub-nose laser cannons start to overheat. Cursing, you switch them off, groaning, “Tell me we have flares!”

The droid tilts its head quizzically. “Flares are over...”

You slam the relevant button down only a heartbeat after it’s pointed out. The rear of the Sheathipede shudders as said countermeasure rumbles out of it. On radar, the flare speeds away from your position, gliding down towards the treetops. No less than half of the ordinance chasing you immediately corrects course, scrambling to reach the unexpected source of heat.

The Force doesn’t squeeze as much as it grips your hand in a rictus grip. Hurriedly, you shout, “Divert all excess power to the aft shields-!”

The resulting explosion rocks the shuttle like a gong. Sensors and electronic panels derezz violently as the concussive wave causes reality itself to violently shake. The shields barely hold as you race out of the debris field and the subsequent thermal bloom.

Behind you, several of the enemy fighters weren’t nearly as quick. Multiple electronic signatures had vanished in the initial blast. Logically, you conclude that their remaining ordinance had caused some sort of horrific chain reaction. The more agile V-Wings are able to veer off and avoid the worst of it. But the closest of the ARC-170s aren’t nearly so lucky.

You almost feel bad as one of the fighters, reactor coolant leaking and engines smoking, tries to ditch into a clearing relatively unscathed by the firebombing. But even before it crashes, the Children of Jombaral have already gathered. The poor bastards don’t even touch the ground before they’re snatched out of the air by a pair of Tall Walkers.

“This is madness!” Kosa blanches as gravity becomes inconsistent. Even strapped tightly in her seat, there are brief moments where freefall lifts her up before slamming her back down. Stunned, the twi’lek master takes a moment to reorient herself before hissing, “They’re just as likely to hit each other in the crossfire!”

“They’ve got their orders, Master Kosa.” Grimacing, you adjust your heading and open up the throttle. “Nothing that hasn’t arrived less than an hour ago to the system is getting out of quarantine.”

You glance quickly towards the crash site...and turn away just as nimbly. Gorge rises in the back of your throat at the sight of the Clones as they’re violently ripped from their cockpits. Alas, you aren’t nearly quick enough to turn off the comms, shivering as the pilots’ screams are quickly overridden by the roars and snarls of the Children of Jombaral.

Red in tooth in claw, indeed...

(cont.)

>>4500536
>>4500527
No not the V-Wings I meant the Porgs.

>>4500732
Is Kaz deceased? I knew Disney would take care of him at some point....

>>4501842
Red in tooth and claw, indeed...

>>4501842
>>4501881
Disney couldn't handle a Star Wars story better than anything they've done being posted for free on a cornish glassblowing forum.

>>4501948
If Brethon Larid was portrayed by a black actor, could we call him Brotha Larid?

>>4502041
He'd end up just shouting "Farren!" The entire quest.

>>4502149
Does that mean he'd get a former ally now enemy who is ten billion times cooler despite having a single line throughout the entire film?

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>>4501842
Internet crapped out really bad last night. Had to replace a bum cable. Sorrymasen.

>>4501948
Trust me when I say that when the mouse comes to strike me down, I'll make a formal announcement about it.

>>4502421
Better idea, pitch them an idea for a series and get yourself hired! Turn this cease and desist into a job interview.

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>>4500732
Having learned their lesson, the Clones aren’t nearly stupid enough to try something like that again. They suddenly break as they receive new orders, adjusting their formation. The ARC-170s give way to the V-Wing interceptors as the primary harriers at your back and sides.

“...they’re gaining on us, sir,” chirps the droid.

It’s hard to not otherwise smack the droid for pointing out the obvious. No matter how far you open up the throttle, the Sheathipede doesn’t nearly have enough speed to outrun the V-Wings. Sure, you’ll put up a good chase, but closing the distance for optimal firing range is only inevitable.

“Yeah, I see it...” You ease yourself as the Force shows you the path. “...hang on!”

Sensors and panels scream warnings as the V-Wings close the distance, unleashing a barrage of laser fire. You jerk the yoke, and the port thrusters respond, kicking the shuttle sharply to the right. Bile rises in the back of your throat as several gs worth of gravity slam you back into your seat. But the interceptors match your turn, and you take the ship in and out of a vertical yo-yo maneuver.

Coughing and spitting, you hiss to the B1: “Fire...as...they come...about!”

At their angle of attack, the lead V-Wings aren’t able to respond quickly at the abrupt reversal. In an instant, two vanish in boils of superheated gas and laser fire. A third shudders violently, spinning out of control as its pilots try to compensate for a damaged stabilizer.

The rest are forced to scatter, slowing their descent abruptly before they crash into the treetops. And in that moment where they adjust and reorient themselves, you make your escape. By the time they’ve untangled themselves, you’ve already made significant headway towards the Heart of Kakarit.

“We’re in the home stretch now!” Excitedly, you turn back to your passengers. “Bos, Master Kosa, how are you holding up?”

The combined venom of the looks they give you could have scorched the paint off a cruiser.

“...everyone’s a critic...”

>>Line Break

The airspace in the Heart of Kakari is a frenzy of activity.

What few droid fighters Octavia has left have been committed to defend the city. Tri-Fighters and Vulture droids chase after Republic/Empire fighters, driving them away from the hulk of the Globus. As for the core ship itself, it isn’t nearly as helpless. Barring the turbolasers, all of its weapons are firing at full tilt at the waves of fighters. The smoke and steam of over two dozen batteries cover the ship and evacuation lines in thick, soupy smog.

The city itself is burning no differently than the jungle, but the Temple of the Godseye remains otherwise unscathed. They had only taken down the shield recently to allow you to enter. All twelve of the masks hover otherwise unscathed or unmolested. The Force gives them resilience to the ordinance beyond the inherent durability of the stone.

(cont.)

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>>4502518
As the B1 takes the shuttle into the city, you point towards the top of the ziggurat. “Set us down, but stay in the air. As soon as Bos and I are off, I want you to head straight to the Globus with Master Kosa.”

The Grand Shamanka seems to have had a change of heart in the last twenty minutes regarding the comfort of “metal boxes”. Bos seems all too willing to get out of her seat. She sways woozily, staggering towards the exit ramp with the audible aid of her staff.

“If I were to ever get in another one of these ‘shuttles,’” she groans, visibly green at the gills, “It will be one not flown by you.”

Kosa readily agrees, adding warily, “I fully intend to have stern words with Brethon regarding your pilot training...”

You at least make some effort to appear apologetic. “It saved our lives, didn’t it? And besides, it wasn’t all just me! I put my faith in the Force. I just simply acquiesced to its guidance...”

The Jedi isn’t so easily amused by what some would call casual blasphemy. But Bos finds humor in it, derisive as it is. “...let me out of this contraption before I spill my guts all over it.”

The Sheathipede’s landing is relatively unopposed. Whenever a starfighter thinks of getting too close, they’re politely dissuaded by a barrage of laser bolts. Ordinance explodes a safe ways away as point-defense turrets blast them into smoke and shrapnel.

Even before the ramp extends, you can hear unholy cacophony of the battle through the walls of the shuttle. The Clones fight with their relative dispassion, cool and collected and utterly merciless in their execution of their orders. The Droid fighters and the Globus defend their position with a fierce desperation. As it stands, it is an utter stalemate, one that the Globus is only slightly winning through the sheer amount of anti-aircraft weaponry.

But it isn’t a matter of “if” as much as “when” the tide will turn in the Clone’s favor.

As you help Bos down to the temple, you radio Suzel, “What’s the status of the refugees?”

“Squared and stowed away, for the most part!” the nagai answers, “You missed the last shuttle by only a handful of minutes, boss.”

Even through the comm., you can detect apprehension in the young warrior’s voice. “Casualties?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The one who takes over, perhaps unsurprisingly, is Commander Skipp. The Clone’s voice is smooth, but there’s a raw undercurrent beneath his words: “...three shuttles...nearly one hundred civilians. A squadron of V-Wings slipped through the flak cloud just before the guns were working at full efficiency.”

...seven hundred Kakari left.

(cont.)

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A surge of anger grips you suddenly. What was it that the bastard had said? The Child had done what it had did, calling down Jombaral for the good of his people. Back in the Womb of Jombaral, you had been confused and questioning. But having seen the destruction being laid to the planet, those thoughts turn your mind sour and festering with a righteous fury.

The Force certainly works in mysterious ways. The chain of events that led to your arrival can certainly attest to that. But now you see that the Child’s words were a deliberate obfuscation. Perhaps it believed that it had done good in answering the Call of Jombaral. But in the end, nothing had changed.

The Child only delayed the inevitable and changed the form of their destruction.

But before you can lose yourself further in those dark thoughts, Bos grips your arm. The shamanka looks up at you with milky eyes, whispering, “You told me to not to give into emotion as I burned my daughter’s corpse. Touched as I am by your compassion for our people, blind anger will not be of use here.”

As your temper cools, you cough, radioing back to Skipp, “Where’d you park the Albatross?”

“It’s in the main hanger of the core ship,” answers the commander, recovering just as quickly, “Didn’t think it’d be too prudent to let it out with all the crap flying across the city.”

A logical decision. “Keep the engines hot just in case.”

“Just in case?” he repeats, incredulous, “For what?”

You don’t answer, cutting the line. But before you and Bos dash into the temple, Kosa calls: “Padawan Gaelle!”

Gesturing for Bos to scurry on before you, you turn back to the twi’lek master. “Yes, Master Kosa?”

In spite of her broken arm and emaciated frame, she holds herself in the same vein as the Jedi Peacekeeper that she had once been. “You will come back. I would not be able to face Brethon if I returned with Arotta, but not with you.”

That’s a very bizarre way to show concern. Still, you take it for what it is. “I fully intend to, Master Kosa.”

“Besides,” she adds, the ghost of a smirk twitching at her lips, “My padawan would be beside herself if her favorite pink-skinned stress relief went and died for her sake.”

THAT nearly causes you to trip and fall all the way down the stairs. “Buh...what?”

The twi’lek shakes her head in an uncharacteristically sardonic amusement. “You two never were as quiet as you thought you were during those ‘sparring matches’ in the cargo hold.” But it fades away, replaced by her usual seriousness. “May the Force be with you, Farren Gaelle.”

And before you can get in a word edgewise, the ramp closes, and the Sheathipede begins its retreat to the Globus. You stand there, gawping like an idiot before a stray laser bolt nearly cuts you in half. Hurriedly, and with your ears burning red, you chase after Bos into the Temple of the Godseye...

(cont.)

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>>4502816
>she knows too

>>4502822
At this point I'd believe kaz if he told me that Palpatine, Jabba, C-3P0 and the Yuuzhan Vong know about it.

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>>4502849
Of course Palpatine knows.

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>>4502816
...sheknewsheknewsheknewsheknewsheknewsheknewsheknewsheknewsheknew...

The solemnity of the temple is a merciful sight. It’s only the second time that you’ve been into the grand chamber, but it’s one that still robs you of your breath and conscious thought. The light of the Godseye washes over you as you skid into its chambers, arresting you as it almost seems to dance innocuously in the air.

Of the handful of Bos’ apprentices present, you recognize only one of them. The Kakari who came to fetch you alongside...Apulxa, hadn’t it been? You don’t recall her name, but she seems to also recognize you. Her eyes glance quickly towards the entrance of the hall before they close and return to their meditations.

Bos had come to a stop at the middle of the bridge. The shamanka stares up with nothing short of religious worship towards the floating sunstone. “...even after so long, it has not yet lost its luster...”

She shivers. A single tear ekes out of the corner of her eye before she wipes it away. Her posture almost seems to straighten, and every step she takes is not that of an elder, but ones no different than any of the youngest members of the Communion of Spirits.

The frantic sound of your own steps is a dissonant noise. The Communion looks to you, almost gravely offended, but you pay them no mind. “Bos! Bos, we’re running out of time. The first wave of Star Destroyers is almost in atmosphere.”

Those words seem to pull her out of her reverie. Turning towards you, the shamanka affixes you with a critical eye. “The Godseye,” intones Bos, “Has always been a tool that protects the Kakari. Its power is one that is not monopolized by either a single clan or a god. And in this moment, it is no different of a function than the meteors of old, or the rampant divine beasts that would run roughshod across the planet...”

In her hand, she conjures a ball of flame. And similar to what happened to you the day prior, the Godseye responds in kind. The familiar spheroid of quartz encircles the platform and its inhabitants. Bos’ apprentices, four in total, gather around their spiritual leader, manifesting their own flames in their own hands.

“Join me, Farren,” the elder whispers, gesturing with her empty hand, “Let your flame and mind become unified ours. We are far from the Accuser of Pilgrims, but we shall do our best to momentarily take up the mantle...”

The Sunspear on your back grows just a little heavier as you join Bos in the circle. You mimic their actions, conjuring flame in your hand. Slowly, you ease your breathing, lulling yourself into a trance, becoming more aware of the presence of Bos and her apprentices...

...the universe reels back. You almost seem to step out of your body, seeing beyond the walls of the city. Your gaze turns upwards, beyond the smoke and smog, distant from the shrieking blurs of starfighters, far above the clouds...

...and you see the first Venator.

(cont.)

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HOLY SHIT

I AM HYPE

It isn’t alone. Hot on its heels are another two of its fellow class, and a pair of what appear to be Imperial-class Star Destroyers. They’ve made great speed beyond their fellows. Perhaps Tarkin’s advance guard? Or just the carriers for the handful of fighters that’re currently raising hell on the planet...

What a very large metal box... Bos’ voice echoes in multitudes. This is the enemy of the Kakari?

You nod...or at least transmit the emotion that is approval. The rest of the Communion takes up the image in their minds. Their emotions are myriad, but convey the same thoughts: wariness, distrust, nervousness, protectiveness...

And in tandem, the Godseye hums.

Its surface quickly turns from cobalt blue to a deep, crimson red. Much like how the shield was raised, all twelve of the masks answer in kind, spinning frantically around the sunstone as it ascends up the temple and into the skies of the Heart.

Power. So much power at your fingertips...

We see the threat, the enemy of the Kakari, Children of Kakerox the Great... whispers the Grand Shamanka, Foreign foes of distant stars who would burn us all in cleansing flame...

The power of the Godseye is ready to be unleashed.

And it seems that you have the final say in how much is to be released.

>>How much power are you going to put into the Godseye’s attack?
>Enough to destroy. You’re only repaying Tarkin what he would do to you.
>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]

[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT HOURS]

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>>4502856
SS GOD CANNON

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hiromoot pls fix, it didn't update
the thread so I'm just testing, don't mind me pls, just making sure that my post didn't get eaten

>>4502876
>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]
Aside from the [Gain Light Side points], we don't know if the Godseye needs a recharge or when. We should save as much power as we can afford to, or it might run dry in the middle of shooting down Tarkin's ships.

>>4502876
Keep this in mind while voting: Jombaral still exists and she wants off this planet.

>>4502876
>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]

>>4502876
>>Enough to destroy. You’re only repaying Tarkin what he would do to you.

This isn't about not killing them. This is about the number of destroyers and resources they've brought to this planet wipe.

Whether we destroy or disable them, we go to the top of the shitlist. By destroying them, there's less destroyers capable of pulling this kind of firepower in the future. At least more resources will be put toward repairing the fleet vs the hunt on more jedi for a little while.

We can start by crippling them, and then start destroying ships if we got juice left over. Remove thrusters, send ships crashing into the planet.

>>4502876
>>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]
We still want the fleet to carry out Base Delta Zero - just after we're out of dodge.
Actually, there's a thought - we know Jombaral herself got up to one of the derelicts in orbit. We could try hail Tarkin and warn him that his true target is there. If nothing else it might buy us some time and costs us nothing.

>>4502915
Would have to be done via one of the clone survivors, but a possibility. That said, a survivor would get picked up for debriefing before execution. And that would put Tarkin/Vader on our trail.

>>4502876
>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]
Theyre gonna need it for jombaral

>>4502876
>Just enough to disable. You need only buy time for the Kakari to escape. [Gain Light Side points]

>>4502915
>>4502917
We can send a text message from the planet to an imperial ship, using communication machinery that we will leave here. We or someone else don't need to say the message by voice or remain on the planet for say it.