Balmorran Resistance

So I'll be gone for the next two days while I move into my new apartment, but I thought I would give you guys another story to read. I know it's long, probably the longest I've ever done. I appreciate any comments on it, I'll break it up into a couple of posts for people to browse through. The breaks are intended to indicate either a change in subject or the passage of time.
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The gentle shaking of the transport told Ixidor the public shuttle he had taken to Balmorra, a heavily contested industrial planet, was landing. He patted his pockets and checked his bag to make sure nothing had been stolen. Something about a long shuttle ride just made him tired, he couldn’t help it. The Jedi stifled a yawn and stretched his arms and legs. Ixidor stepped off the craft onto the metal walkway, making his way to a map of the city. He traced a quick route that avoided any open areas to avoid recognition. He reached behind him and untied the walking stick stuck in his bag, pretending to be blind is easier to pull off for a Miraluka in hostile territory than explaining why a member of a race who favored the Republic was doing on an Imperial dominion planet.

He shook his sleeves a little, making sure that the leather gauntlets he was wearing didn’t bulge the cloth of his robes too awkwardly. The goal to be able to reach his lightsabers without the awkward motion of having to reach towards his belt. Feeling secure that his two sabers would stay hidden he trudged off in the direction of an acquaintance that was waiting to sell him a Swoop bike without getting officials involved.

The Miralukan turned down an alleyway, about one block from the shop he was headed for. He could feel the faint rhythm of the music in the club through the thick walls next to him. Laughing ahead made him pause; he lowered his hood for better comprehension. A Rodian was leaning against a side door polishing a rather ornate knife. He looked up, gave his comrade a tap and pointed at Ixidor. They stood up and blocked his path. The Rodian got within an arm’s length of Ixidor and spoke.

“Looks like you wandered down the wrong alley. Don’t you know? We owns this territory.”

“My sincere apologies, I didn’t mean to offend your master, but I have no business with him, thus he has no business with me. If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” The Jedi replied respectfully,
The other, an Aqualish finished off a death stick and snuffed it out under his boot. He made a grunting sort of laugh before making a few remarks in his native tongue to his compatriot.

The Rodian spoke again. “What you don’t understand is that using something that belongs to Nem’ro requires a payment, so open up your wallet or else you’re going to pay with your flesh.”

The Rodian dropped into a lazy fighting pose, took a short step forward. Before the Aqualish could blink one of his 4 eyes, Ixidor kicked the bottom of his staff. The walking stick connected with the bottom of the green skinned being’s skull. Ixidor pulled the staff back and swung the wooden rod, hitting him where the Human temple would have been. It was enough to knock him unconscious; he slumped to the ground and lay motionless. The Jedi turned his attention to the Aqualish who had an astonished (or what an Aqualish considered astonished) look on his face before quickly reaching for his blaster. But he froze. Ixidor moved to the side to see his acquaintance standing behind the Ualaq with his gun pointed at the back of his head.

“Tha’s right buddy, nice ‘n’ easy, hands off the blaster.” He removed the weapon from the thug’s holster. “Say, who’d you say you worked for again?”

The Aqualish made a few grunts, and then nodded his head a few times at the club.

“That so?...” The Smuggler took a long drag from his Cigarra, took it out of his mouth, and blew a smoke ring around the being’s head. It would have made a decent picture. He leaned in closer and spoke in a low voice “Tell him I said hi.” The pistol went off and the thug fell to the ground, a neat hole in the back of his head. A Mirialan bartender poked her head out of the door, took one look at the prone figures before popping her head back into the club. The gunman looked up at Ixidor “I really wish these things wouldn’ breed. You ever saw their females?” He shuddered adding “Not pretty Ooof!”

Ixidor shook his head. “You know that was not necessary, at least the he (nudging the passed out Rodian) will think twice about doing that again.”

The Smuggler took another few puffs and exhaled before saying “They’ve been annoyin’ people out here for a while; I’m doin’ people a favor. Plus nobody’ll miss scum like him. But seein’ as I helped you out of a jam, I hope you don’ mind me takin’ some of this as a little fee for helpin’ you.” He pocketed the wallets and slipped the Rodian’s knife into a sheath.

Ixidor stepped past him asking “Who was his master anyway? Seems like I was supposed to know who they were talking about before mentioning a name.”
“Dunno, I can’t ever tell what they’re sayin’, sounds like a pair’a Wookies doin’ an underwater musical.”
Once again Ixidor could only shake his head. “Such a waste of life. Is the bike ready?”

The Smuggler’s hat dipped and rose as he nodded. “Yep yep, but uh, seein’ as this planet ain’t exactly so friendly, I’ll be needin’ a few credits to balance out bribes and the like.”

The Jedi sighed. He knew the value of these smugglers to the overall war effort, especially early on when they were alleviating the hardship some of the core worlds faced when cut off from the resource rich colonies, done out of self-interest of course, but it didn’t mean the Jedi enjoyed dealing with them.
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Bredoc “Doc” Renard was a tall human of average muscular build. Born and raised on Nar Shaddaa, he dreamed, breathed, and ate Smuggler since he was old enough to wash dishes at a popular Smuggler bar in the Corellian District. He was covered in tattoos and paint, except for a rather large scar that ran from the right corner of his mouth towards the base of his ear. If you were willing to buy Renard a few drinks, he wouldn’t mind telling the story of how he got it.

While the scale of things and number of added sound effects depended on the quantity of drinks he’d consumed prior, the truth was that he had traveled to Voss at the request of a friend who had a bounty on his head. Renard had discovered who the Bounty Hunter was before they planned the trap. He emptied the tanks to about 2% of the combustible gas, and filled the rest with an inert gas with a lower density. They lured the Rattataki outside into the forest. At the right time, the Smuggler detonated a few remote explosives, knocking a large tree over. The bait slid under a groove dug into the ground. A second decoy, dressed like the original target took off and kept running. When the Bounty Hunter ignited his jets to pass over the log, the fuel runs out and he falls into a pit dug by the target and the decoy the previous night. What the Rattataki couldn’t see is the pair of Nexu waiting for him at the bottom of the muddy pit. His last attempt to gain freedom was firing off the cable attached to his arm; it missed the ground and tore into Doc’s face. Little did his friend know that Doc Renard actually had sent a chunk of the Bounty Hunter in as proof that someone had taken care of the job, not only making a few credits for saving his friend (who paid up quite well before moving back to Coruscant), but falsely turned in the bounty for those credits as well (ensuring his friend wouldn’t be bothered again was an added benefit).

His Smuggling interests were only in dealing with members of the Republic, stemming from the locations of former deals and close personal friends or contacts. And he knew enough about Sith ideology and the Empire’s tactics that he knew what was in his interest in the long run. Renard was reliable contact for Ixidor who used him to sneak supplies into areas where a Jedi’s usual skills weren’t subtle enough. Ixidor returned the favors with information or money, whichever was more valuable to the Smuggler at the time.

When they arrived at the garage Ixidor tossed Bredoc a bag of credits. “It’s all there; forgive me if I don’t stay and chat, but my business is rather urgent.”

Renard opened the bag and shook the contents around. “It’s all there huh? I didn’ even tell you I was goin’ t‘ask for an extra 15 for the trouble, you sure it’s all there?”

The Jedi fastened his things inside a compartment on the Swoop, double checking his lightsabers were still right where they needed. He looked up at the human replying “I thought you’d at least go for 25, so you can get back home and celebrate a bit harder than usual.”

The Smuggler’s face widened into a grin. He looked back down to the credits, closed the bag and pocketed the money in his vest. He began to take steps back out the garage when he turned, let out a stream of smoke through his nostrils and said “I like you Jedi. I’ll tell you what, the next one’s free...Errr… Half off.”

“Sounds good, but I really must be going. I’ll contact you again via your ship if I am in need of your services in the future.”

“Fair well Jedi.”

With that Ixidor set off for the Republic resistance HQ.

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Several hours later Ixidor arrived with a light coating of dirt. He abandoned the Swoop, with the hopes that the native metal-munching insects would destroy any evidence. He purposefully walked the last couple miles to the hidden location. Upon arriving he was beset by several security droids and numerous people in various attires.

One of them carrying a large chaingun spoke up. “Halt citizen; state your name and business.”

“My full title is Jedi Sentinel Ixidor Asgrod. My business is with those who consider themselves allies of the Republic, despite the Treaty saying otherwise. I come under the authority of the Jedi, and by extension, the Galactic Republic. If you require further references, I can name a few well known Senators who would be happy to vouch for me.”

The one with the chaingun replied “That won’t be necessary.” He turns his head and barks to a shady looking twi’lek that was using a wall as cover while holding twin blasters pointed at Ixidor. “Let him in, this one’s a Jedi and definitely on our side.” The twi’lek narrowed his eyes while staring at Ixidor and yelled back “How can you be sure Ara…Arack…Fred?”

Ixidor smiled widely, turning back to the large statured man. He felt the back of the man’s hand holding the gun hit his back while the other arm grabbed him. “Haha Araquiel! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Needles, Fuse, and Wraith from Havoc Squad! The Republic sent us in to help out the Resistance, they told us to wait here for further orders. We’ve been keeping busy making security tighter, training members in military combat, formations, hand signals. You know, the usual.”

The trooper let go and Ixidor followed him around the base. “This is the cafeteria, the rations are decent, it really depends on what those little sneaky guys bring in. The coffee is always primo-quality though. They can get you other stuff too on request; you just have to give them some extra time. The shooting range is near the cliff face, the workout area is right next to it just gotta go down a coupla steps. We don’t really have a library but that guy, the short one with the eyepatch over there, he was working by himself, managed to work his way into the Sith construction companies. He was duplicating a whole bunch of plans for over a year. Eventually got out with them to, but it cost him an eye.”

“I’m sure it will suit us just fine Araquiel. Where are the quarters? I’d like to put my things down and rest a while before discussing the next mission.” The tattooed trooper walked him over to a large area that looked like it could have been a mass grave. There were person sized holes dug into the floor about 8 inches deep, and cutouts in the walls where they had chiseled what appeared to be bunks (dug wide enough to store items next to the sleeper) complete with ladders carved in between each column. Butler pointed to a bunk near the floor in the corner. With that, Ixidor took off his dirty outer layer of clothing, removed the leather gauntlets he had been wearing all day, and gently placed his lightsabers down next to him.

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Ixidor awoke a while later, while it was still dark on Balmorra due to its long daily rotation. He walked into the cafeteria. The cook on duty finished cleaning the glass he had in his hand, looked up, and asked “What’cha want to tickle your palette?” Ixidor did a quick scan of the visible supplies. “What kind of coffee do you guys have?” “We just had someone bring in a shipment of coffeine he looted off of an Imperial supply line, probably headed for some town being bombarded to pick up the troops’ morale. Uhh we got some pretty decent vine-coffee from Belsavis too.”

“The vine-coffee will be fine, I don’t wish to alter my mood, just wake me up. What do you have for food?” “Hmm we have Pukkha broth, the Trimpian is a little stale but a twi’lek with a large burn wounds on the left side of his face brought in a ton of it, so it gets a little hard for everyone to eat that much of it. We’ve got some Republic and Imperial rations, the Republic are better for you, but we had to eat those first until the raids picked up. And I think I have the materials to make a whole bunch of Dustcrepes.”

“A Dustcrepe sounds nice.” Ixidor dug into his pockets, pulled out a handful of credits and deposited them near the already made cup of coffee. He took a sip, enjoying the relaxing warmth. It was a nice contrast to the cold cave system they lived in. The sandwich was quickly done; the Jedi thanked the man and walked towards the planning room. He was not surprised, but was pleased to see several of the veteran members of the resistance in this area going over plans. He walked into the room, the discussion stopped as everyone looked up at him, and continued as quickly as it ended when they saw him. He took a seat near the wall while he finished his food and listened to the conversation.

“So what about this tip the new guy gave us?” Spoken by a Mirialan with an extensive pattern of tattoos that patterned his face. Ixidor guessed whatever he had been doing previous, he was good at it, and well respected for it too.

An older male, probably a trooper here before the treaty leaned heavily on his cane and voiced his opinion with a deep gravelly sounding voice. “It doesn’t seem like much, just a supposed dumping ground for junk metallic parts, they don’t have the resources here to reuse all of it, so they dump it for the Metal Parasites to finish off. Either way, we could send just a few people down to investigate it, see if there is anything worthwhile. Get in, get out. No reason to stay too long.”

“We could use a few spare parts, and it’s about time one of the fresher members brought in a decent tip, they are getting a little too scarce for comfort these days.” That was stated by a younger human, who was covered in grease and soot. Ixidor had been made aware that he was new, not very new but had been trusted enough to cover for the main mechanic/smith.

“Alright. It’s settled. Now the only matter left is who is going to go.” The Mirialan again, but it was easy to see he was getting haggard. His face was beginning to droop and he was blinking more and more, these resistance members needed a break, badly. Ixidor downed the last of his now cold coffee and finished the last bite of his sandwich. He stood up and walked into the dim light. “I am offering my knowledge of the force and lightsaber combat to the mission. Perhaps one the members of Havoc Squad wish to join me? Their knowledge of the world and combat could come in handy.”

Araquiel stopped cleaning his weapon, stood to attention, and stated “If it’s all right with the rest of the Vets, I would like to volunteer for the assignment. Wraith is resting for the next big mission; he’s already been out too much with constant recon anyway. Needles is needed as a medic, we always have injured from the other groups coming in and out. Fuse is a great guy, but his specialty is not always adaptive to various forms of combat. I’m your man”

The Mirialan looked around at the others and nodded. “Very well, leave when you are ready, report back when you’ve completed the mission.”

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Ixidor and Araquiel had little problems reaching the site. It looked, from the outskirts, exactly like a metal dump. The air was heavy with the smell of rust; everything was a shade of silver or brown. They slowly approached the area where their extra parts were located. The door blocking the warehouse was welded shut. “Well this is annoying; maybe if I try this!” The trooper was trying to shoulder slam the door open. “There is no reason to injure yourself. Remember this mission is not critical; let me handle it, I have not used my sabers in quite some time.” Ixidor ignited the twin blue sabers, enjoying the subtle hum and the soft blue glow cast on nearby surfaces. He plunged them both into the metal, which offered little resistance. The Jedi and Trooper delivered a simultaneous kick and the bottom half of the door and it fell into the darkness of the garage.

As soon as daylight pierced the darkness of the garage they heard a mechanical clicking sound. “What’s that?” said Araquiel as he squinted into the black. *BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*. “It’s a tra--!” The explosives that had been planted inside the warehouse exploded. The blast pushed kicked Ixidor back about 5 meters; Butler had been standing near the corner of the building, when the explosion happened, he was thrown into a pile of junk metal, he didn’t get back up.

Ixidor wheezed as he inhaled deeply, the landing had knocked the air out of him. He slowly pushed himself off the ground, stood up, and regained his balance. He took up his lightsabers and ignited them, ready for a fight. *Tsssuuuu* The first shot rang out, Ixidor blocked in time, but the reflection missed the position of the shooter who the Miraluka could clearly see about 20 meters shooting. He sprinted towards the man, as he drew nearer, he could see the pistol shooter’s face, it was the assistant blacksmith. “You’re threw Jedi, you and your Republic pals.” “Is that so? It seems that you are the one who is finished traitor.”

Ixidor threw his lightsaber, jumped to the opposite side of the man and swung towards the mechanic’s ribs. The turncoat focused on the wrong target. He made a few inaccurate shots at the saber before it connected first with his gun, followed through to amputate his last three fingers before creating a large gash in his rib cage. The other saber strike landed a half a second later, creating a second gash in the man’s ribs. He laughed, blood bubbled up and the corners of his mouth, and he was coughing while trying to speak. “I wa-*cough* wasn’t a-alone *cough – cough* Jedi! Hahaha!” And with that his life faded. “What did he mean? I had seen no one else!” Ixidor thought.

*pfooo* A cable wrapped itself around the Jedi’s torso; his arms were pinned to his sides, causing him to drop his lightsabers. He craned his neck to see a Sith Pureblood bounty hunter had used the traitor as bait to distract the Jedi. “You fought valiantly my friend. Pity it was such a useless fight against a worthless opponent. Such a shame you couldn’t put up a better fight. I’ve hunted lesser creatures with far greater survival instincts.” He sneered. “But now it’s time for the food chain to play itself out.” With those words the hunter leaped off the building and ignited his rocket pack. Ixidor was helplessly yanked off the ground. The red skinned humanoid banked to the right and sped in the direction of the building. The Miraluka Jedi was slammed into the side of the warehouse. He heard a crack, felt a sharp pain, probably one of his ribs broke. The Bounty Chaser withdrew his cable. He leaned in close, red face covered in customary tattoos. His armored hand grabbed the Sentinel’s face, turning it to the side. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be getting up; now let’s make sure of it.” He aimed his wrist at Ixidor’s neck, and pushed a button. A tranquilizer dark lodged itself in his neck. The world started to spin. Everything sounded like an echo. Darkness slowly started to creep into his vision. The Sith leaned in so close, Ixidor could see armored man’s flexible webbing didn’t fit correctly between the plates. “You Jedi sure aren’t much without a squad of troopers at your back protecting you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Araquiel’s chaingun opened up. A few of the bullets hit pierced the Bounty Hunter’s jetpack. Flames shot out a few different holes as the Sith was lifted off the ground. He began to spin uncontrollably, he was frantically trying to steer, but as soon as the pressure peaked in the tanks, he exploded. The soldier sprinted to Ixidor, slid to his side and pulled the tranquilizer dart out. He gently tapped the Jedi’s face. “C’mon man, stay with me. Stay with me!” Just as the last words were spoken, Ixidor’s vision clouded over and he passed out.

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Ixidor came out of his coma about half a month later. The first image he was when he regained consciousness was Araquiel’s giant face standing over him, with Needles placing new bandages over his injured ribcage. “Hey there bud, that was a heck of a sleep you had. You know where you are?” The Jedi smiled weakly and peered around. “Back at the base, what happened?” The medic helped Ixidor sit up with the least amount of discomfort to his injury. “I took care of that slimy Sith right before you passed out, how are you feeling?” “Like I was thrown into a wall” Ixidor replied with a wry smile. Needles took out a small light and checked Ixidor’s pupil dilation. “Well, as far as I can tell due to your connection to the force helped you recover quicker than I thought. You should be up and running by the end of the week, but It’ll still be sore.” The Sentinel slowly stood up, "Well if that is the case it’s about time we planned for the next mission."

The Chev Trooper helped Ixidor move his things into the planning room. Someone had taken the initiative to create a couple of beds in there already for members who were extremely busy planning raids or missions. Ixidor gently eased himself into a chair that had been placed around the holotable. The Mirialan with the numerous tattoos seemed to have added one more while Ixidor had been out. He wondered what that guy did, but whatever it was the Republic was lucky to have him.

Ixidor set up the table to project a Sith research laboratory. He spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, wincing when his voice was a little too loud. “Ow. Anyway, the reason I was sent here is that we came into possession and knowledge of a Sith R and D base that isn’t too far from here. As far as reports on what goes on inside, we hear rumors of a new type of droid, something they intend to use to finish off resistance on this and other planets. While these are rumors: Rumors, true and untrue can be extremely interesting. We have been tasked with assaulting the base, placing explosives inside the base while extracting whatever information or material we can, and then blowing the place to save the eventual victims of the Sith’s aggression.”

They spent the next week and a half performing recon searches, testing weaknesses, learning guard schedules, in case a VIP may arrive at an inopportune or opportune time. They had come to the conclusion that a full mobilization of the Resistance cell was necessary, except for those who could not fight, or had duties to those who could not. When it was time, they headed out, there was a distinct feeling of unease amongst the members of the Resistance, doubt clouded their minds. Ixidor failed to find words that he felt would appropriately clear their vision, nor did he feel it was the right time. Then again, the fog of war had a tendency to force out all other worries and give clarity.

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The entire group of fighters was dispersed throughout the rocky hills that surrounded the laboratory. The Jedi felt his ribs, still sore to the touch. He tried to stretch the area a little, applied a small amount of heat to the injury before wrapping himself up again. Ixidor spoke into the comlink. “Okay vanguard groups 1 through 8 you know what to do. On my mark. 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – Fire!” 8 bright lights were created in the rocks, rushed towards each of the sentry towers. The explosions sent chunks of metal and debris everywhere.

Ixidor toggled the communicator again “Cael (the tattooed Mirialan), switch to the second channel and take over for the invasion. I’ll lead my group.” “Aye, good luck” he responded. Ixidor switched channels, now only leading a handful of Resistance soldiers and Troopers into the base.

“Units 2 through 4 slow your progress; wait for 1 to bring up the cover fire. Fuse, watch the return fire, your position isn’t structurally sound.” Ixidor watched from a higher position as 4 of the Resistance soldiers slowed their pace, allowing for the much slower Butler to bring the chaingun into perfect position. The Trooper attached a stand to the gun and unloaded into the nearby troops on the walls. A head peeked out and dipped back behind the wall. Ixidor hit the communication button again, “watch out, someone is going to try something.” The deep booming noise of a grenade being fired out of a launcher was hard to hear over the noise. Fuse didn’t even hear it land, nor noticed it until it was too late. The grenade went off covering him in an avalanche of rock. The scream came over the comlink, “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“FUUUUSSEEEEEEEEEEE! FUSE! Can you hear me? Are you alright? Say something man!” Butler’s focus had been shaken by his comrade’s incapacitation. “Vitals are okay, but he’s buried. 2 through 4 I want you to get busy digging him out. Araquiel, when those defenders are eliminated, take Fuse’s explosive set them up yourself and set the charges. I’ll collect the information and meet you back out here, that’s when you blow them. If I’m not out in 20 minutes, do it anyway.” Something was bothering Ixidor, it made the outcome of this fight uncertain, it blocked his vision. It didn’t feel right. He flipped to a private unit’s channel “Wraith are you there?” The comlink crackled three times, indicating he was there but had a need to be silent. “We need you to break off from your current objective and place breaching charges on this wall. Fuse is down. “20 seconds” he whispered.

Ixidor made his way down towards the wall, most of the defenders had been taken care of but he took special care to block shots coming at him. Wraith’s whisper came over the air once again, “3…2…1…Boom.” Ixidor was about to tell him he was dismissed back to his old duty, but the stealth expert had already left. The Jedi quickly entered the base, leaving the others to their jobs. As he began vaulting down the stairs he felt something, a presence that made him pause. The Sentinel shook it off and ran to the first set of terminals and began searching through files, uploading the more important ones and schedules. He charged down two more flights of stairs and filtering through three more terminal clusters. “One more to go, on the bottom floor. That must be where the presence is coming from,” He thought.

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He quietly walked down the steps this time. When he rounded the last corner, he spotted the source of the dark feeling. A heavily armored Sith, almost more machine than man was finishing work at the terminals. The man was close to 7 feet tall, with a single lightsaber in his hand. He looked up, still facing away from the Jedi and spoke “I felt your pitiful presence the moment you stepped in the building.” He turned around. “Are you here for this?” The giant man pointed to the terminals behind him. “I think NOT!” With a mighty swing he turned and sliced the information databases in two with his single red blade. “Now Jedi, are you ready to learn a lesson? The role of the weak is to be consumed by the MIGHTY!”

The Sith started running towards Ixidor who in turned jumped with all the might the force would allow him. He came rocketing down towards the Sith Warrior, twin blue blades ready to strike. “TOO WEAK!” The Juggernaut brought his blade up to strike towards Ixidor who blocked, but was forced to roll to the side of the Dark Sider. He responded by bringing the lightsaber down in a two handed grip swing towards Ixidor’s head. The Jedi blocked the red sword with his two, but the dual blade fighting style does not allow for maximum strength in one’s blocks. His muscles were at their breaking point as the beams of plasma were slowly pushed back towards his face. He smelled burning hair, before realizing his blades had been pushed back so far, some of his hair had been cut off. Ixidor quickly extinguished his right hand blade, and dropped it next to him. His now free hand was used to force back the Sith’s blade.

When he had enough room, the Jedi leapt back and pulled his second lightsaber back to his hand. The Warrior made a leap of his own towards the Miraluka. Ixidor focused on the force, believed in the force, and force pulled a massive piece of manufacturing machinery towards the Sith. The massive man was blindsided and crashed into a wall. “Don’t fight the inevitable. Embrace death.” The Sith growled as he walked towards Ixidor, who was running out of ideas. “One last option” he mumbled quietly to himself.

He sprinted as fast as he could towards the Sith, who returned the favor. He threw his two lightsabers as hard as he could and continued running towards the Warrior. The Juggernaut planted his feet and deflected both sabers. “Hahaha. What a worthless attack. You’ve sacrificed your weapons for a pitiful gambit. Time to DIE!” Ixidor dropped down into a feet first slide. The Sith’s saber came crashing down towards the Jedi. “There is no death. There is the FORCE!” he tersely replied. Ixidor caught the blade with his hands, absorbing the energy. The Jedi, still sliding, pushed himself off the floor into a fighting stance. He planted a foot, turned quickly and threw his lightsabers (which had fallen behind the Sith) towards the back of the Warrior. He didn’t turn around in time. The two blades crossed the torso of the Warrior. His mechanical breathing was replaced by labored wheezing. The crash of metal meant the Sith had dropped to his knees. A second clang rang out as the dying man dropped the lightsaber. Ixidor walked over and extracted the weapons from the Juggernaut’s chest. He walked around and knelt in front of the dying Warrior.

Holding the man upright he smiled and said “Go with peace. Death is not the end, nor is it something to fear. You will be a part of something larger than yourself, or any being.” There was a lot of blood pouring out of the man’s mask, clogging the various systems meant for breathing. “Th…the…the mask.” The man was struggling to speak; his lungs were going to fail at any moment. Ixidor removed the Sith’s mask. The pale face behind it was a bald man in his prime age. While obviously in peak physical condition, the taint of the Dark Side had cause immense physical damage. The man’s face was gaunt and racked with scars.

There were tears in the man’s eyes. “Don’t be afraid. The Force in you, in me, in all of us. It binds us together. It also lives on. You will live on as a part of the Force. A power greater than the Emperor himself,” the Jedi whispered reassuringly. The man’s breathing was shallow now. He was trying to speak. Ixidor placed his ear near the man’s mouth just in time to hear the man’s final words.

“May the Force be with you…” The Warrior gave a final exhale and collapsed to the ground. Ixidor respectfully positioned the body lying with the lightsaber held in his hands on his chest. The explosives would act as a funeral pyre for the man. He checked the amount of time left. 2 minutes, not a long. He made his way back out of the building. It exploded just as he exited the building. He collapsed on the ground, fire burning behind him. Araquiel ran up and helped him. “That was pretty good Ix!” “What was?” Ixidor replied “Not looking back at the explosion.” They both laughed. “Let’s go back and celebrate friend.”

END

So I know it's been a bit since I posted this, and that I'm bumping my own dead thread, but I was wondering if anyone has anything to say about this RP of mine.

I know it's long, clocked in at 9 pages via Microsoft Word, but since this is pretty much my biggest effort at it. I could use some criticisms, pointers, a few notes on what people like or dislike about it, etc. Like I said when I first joined, I'm still an amateur at RPing (which I realize how bland my IC posts must seem) so any info people can give me on this will help me improve and see my strengths and weaknesses.

Do I spend too much time on useless things? Could my characters use a personality or otherwise tweak? Really any comments from you guildies can help me improve at RPing. So let me know