Dav Man'Sell
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Affiliation: The Jedi Order - Jedi High Council/Jedi Praxeum of Yavin IV
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 27, 2013 5:49:36 GMT -8
Dav smiled tightly.
"Oh, of course you would have some kind of defensive system, but that seems to be a rather... extreme measure. Most people, even within military arrangements, don't use a defensive system that will outright destroy the data in so immediate and finite a fashion. There tends to be a balance between protecting intelligence from enemies and making it still usable by the yourself. Usually, you only see such extreme, double-layered self-destruct systems on intelligence so sensitive it could potentially topple governments, or put vast amounts of people at risk. Using it to protect nothing more than the identity of one man is somewhat paranoid. It could be justifiable paranoia, but paranoia none the less."
He cupped his left fist in his right hand, bringing them both to rest against his mouth as he leant right over his knees.
"Perhaps, I should phrase this a different way; For what reason did your master feel it was necessary to guard his identity so greatly? Because trying to absolve himself of his crimes, trying to avoid dealing with the legal ramifications... well, to me that all seems too broad a motivation. My instincts tell me that there is more to it than that."
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Jun 28, 2013 18:02:29 GMT -8
Looks like your instincts are wrong.
KR-04 abandoned the mechanical growl in its entirety, instead matching the Jedi's accent and tone almost perfectly. It was not as precise as the droid was programmed to emulate; sub-par equipment once again hindered the machine's performance. But even given the hardware that KR-04 had to work with, the simulation was good enough that it would have taken a trained ear to notice the abnormalities that came with a vocoder emulating vocal cords.
Why're you so bent out of shape over something any programmer with half a brain cell would be sure to do? I say again, you wouldn't want a Sith poking around the temple's databanks. You wouldn't want a spy casually browsing your superior officer's files. You wouldn't want your private messages plastered all over the HoloNet. It's the same principle, just taken to a degree unhindered by credits. Simple.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Posts: 741
Affiliation: The Jedi Order - Jedi High Council/Jedi Praxeum of Yavin IV
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jun 29, 2013 4:53:29 GMT -8
"I wouldn't want someone routing around the Archives because the Archives contain information more sensitive than my name."
Dav stated it simply, matter of factly. It was a simple enough statement - and factual enough. KR's defences against access to his hard drive were entirely too much for something simply protecting a name. Even if done simply because credits were no object, to even think of such a precaution at such an extreme degree was inherent of a mind with a little too much concern for anonymity.
But with a shrug, he leant back. Time to move on.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. In truth, you've given me enough information that I'm one step away from the identity of your creator anyway. So, as far as that objective goes, consider your subroutine redundant."
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Post by Alexis Karidian on Jun 29, 2013 16:51:11 GMT -8
Level Three - Archives
Alexis had never been to the Jedi Library on Osarian herself. And yet, she knew it. It was here that Nathan Malreaux had begun his quest across the galaxy to find a girl he had never met, a girl who was terrified and in desperate need of help. She'd called out for assistance without even realizing it. And there was something she needed to find. She paused to ask her way of the Librarian in charge, an elderly female with a grandmotherly air and grey hair twisted up into a bun. She was directed to a realm of the archives containing actual printed matter instead of the more normal dataspools.
"Thank you," Alexis replied quietly, not wishing to be followed to her destination. The other woman smiled and then returned to her post. Alexis waited, looking around for a few minutes. And then, she walked down that aisle, pausing at the end. She was not sure where to go from here. In fact, she couldn't have explained why she had felt it necessary to come. Dav had asked her for her story. She had tried to explain. But, in the end, none of it really made sense. So she left Yavin and came here, to the source of the matter.
Alexis sighed. Bad things were coming to the Jedi, she'd seen this. She was scared, but she would never say so. Weak beings were preyed upon by the strong. She had left that behind when Nathan took her from Nar Shadaa.
She closed her eyes and reached out in the Force, looking for something---traces of herself? It was a faint whisper, somewhere--- she turned, stretched out a hand till her fingertips brushed the shelf beside her, and then followed it down the line. Trying to track herself down? Now she just looked like a lunatic. Or a lost student. She stopped. Then stepped backwards a few paces. The lingering presence felt a bit stronger here, though still ghostly. Alexis felt sick. Her eyelids snapped open and she quickly started reading the titles on the shelf in front of her. Nothing.
She reached out and ran her fingers along the books of the next shelf down, one that a child could have reached. There was a small gap between two of them. She reached in. Her fingers brushed against a slim volume that had been pushed back a few inches so as not to be readily seen. Touching it sent a tingle up her arm. Alexis looked around. There did not seem to be anyone close by, so she pulled it out.
A book bound in red leather and shut with an old-fashioned hasp laid comfortably in her hands. She knew it like it was part of herself. She flipped through a couple of pages and then gulped at the wave of emotions that poured over her like a river escaping from a dam.
( Original Rescue RP - Book )
She just stared at it blankly. A tear streaked slowly down her face, followed by others that threatened to become a steady stream if their flow was not checked. Alexis swallowed hard, then shut the book and slipped it into a secure pocket inside her tunic. Her padawan braid fell over her shoulder and she contemplated it for a moment: a symbol of what she’d accomplished, a symbol of belonging. She had a place now. And she had a purpose.
She got to her feet, brushing her sleeve across her face to eliminate the traces of tears. Brown eyes looked up just in time to see the flickery edge of a ghostly figure clad in a white dress pass the end of the aisle and vanish out of sight.
Alexis bit back a scream. She had not seen that one in months now. And this time she was awake. “Dav?” she whispered. She shook her head. He was back on Yavin 4. And she had the answer to the question he’d posed her in the Gardens just after she’d become a Dragon. She smiled proudly.
Five minutes later she was glad she was still buried deep in an unfrequented place of the Archives, as a wave of raw emotion slammed into her and knocked her to her knees sobbing like her heart would break for the first time since Nathan had disappeared. Dav was dead?! She watched as he and Jago? were enveloped in blaster fire. “NO!” she screamed. “This is not happening…please…” Again it was like she was a ghost, an eyewitness, but completely unable to actually do anything. And it hurt worse than before. She was curled up on her side in the fetal position, quietly crying, pleading for all this to just go away. And then there were other voices. It was like a terrible holodrama, and she couldn’t make it stop. This one she knew. Joshua. Dav’s other padawan. The one who’d succeeded. He had told her about him. But, not enough. And why was he trying to contact her? The connection sparked into the clarity of crystal for a few moments. They had never met, and wasn’t he dead? She blinked, and then closed her eyes.
She willed her mind to follow back along the path of the Force web that had found her on Osarian. This was Joshua? It was a young man, hurt, but not dead--- and she suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. She knew he was trying to calm her. And he had a lovely smile. She smiled back, a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. And then suddenly it was gone. Completely cut off. She gasped, blinking dazedly into the light and realizing that she was still in the archives, on the floor. She clambered into a sitting position, grateful for the solid feel of the shelf behind her back. Alexis took a few deep, calming breaths and then tried to locate where this had all emanated from. She was on Osarian…and she had to get to the Mid Rim. Her starfighter could make it there easily.
She got to her feet, reaching out for the latent Force Bond between herself and Dav, just enough to assure herself that he was still there and that he was ok for now. Alexis drew herself to her full height, let out a breath, and then left the Archives and Osarian itself to see where the Force would lead her this time.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Jun 29, 2013 20:00:08 GMT -8
"I wouldn't want someone routing around the Archives because the Archives contain information more sensitive than my name."
Dav stated it simply, matter of factly. It was a simple enough statement - and factual enough. KR's defences against access to his hard drive were entirely too much for something simply protecting a name. Even if done simply because credits were no object, to even think of such a precaution at such an extreme degree was inherent of a mind with a little too much concern for anonymity.
But with a shrug, he leant back. Time to move on.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. In truth, you've given me enough information that I'm one step away from the identity of your creator anyway. So, as far as that objective goes, consider your subroutine redundant."
It would have taken a base ability with the Force or a trained ear to know that the voice now speaking did not actually belong to Vidalu Na'an.Don't I deserve more than base assumptions and lower-tier bantha fodder? I thought you took me seriously. |
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Dav Man'Sell
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Posts: 741
Affiliation: The Jedi Order - Jedi High Council/Jedi Praxeum of Yavin IV
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Jul 12, 2013 10:21:10 GMT -8
Dav offered a small smile.
"You've told me that your creator was familiar with Elana Shan. You've hinted at his relationship to Eliana Shan. You've hinted at at least one location he is likely to have visited, and if your master is, in fact, the same person as creator - they are, I trust? - you've played me a sample of his voice. They may seem trivial details to you, but to me, they're all I need."
He canted his head to the side, examining that photoreceptor. Why was he continuing this? Why hadn't he simply shut KR down and disposed of him?
Curiosity. No, more than that. An academic interest. The need to understand evil, its psychology, its causes, and how to stop it. I know so much, and that knowledge is expanding all the time.
I'm still here, because I'm interested in knowing as much as I can about KR before I dispose of him.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 1, 2014 19:43:58 GMT -8
The reavers leapt from hovering assault shuttles, dropping nimbly atop the outpost's walls or into a courtyard filled with corpses. Heavy laser cannons provided cover for the disembarking troops, forcing the defenders to duck behind cover or risk being disintegrated. The Republic troops, stunned at first by the Mandalorians' sudden assault, now fought back viciously. They used the wreckage filling the courtyard for cover, and somewhere above a sharpshooter wreaked havoc. Like a beast backed into a corner.
Faust leaned out of his shuttle's hatch as it descended into the courtyard. With every volley of its cannons the entire vessel would shudder and shake. The Reaver Lord wore a disappointed frown. This is no true battle, he observed. No more than when we took the An'yettu Islands. The Destroyer God craves conflict, the bloody scourge and the mortal art. This is simple butchery. Easy victories might serve to bolster morale among the reavers, but they worried the young priest's soul. When will Kad send us a worthy foe?
Loosening his Ripper in its holster, Faust cast a glance at his former battlemaster. Part of him wondered if it was folly, bringing Trull into this battle. The older priest had been away for too long, and the circumstances surrounding his return were too suspicious. As fond as he was of the man, not even a fellow priest could be allowed to jeopardize Kad's directive. And yet, as he studied the proud but worn face of the man who had trained him, Faust read only sincere regret. Aye, he wondered. But does he grieve for what he has done, or what he plans to do?
Out loud he said, "Take half the men and break east to join with the reavers beneath the wall. Coordinate with the other fire teams to drive them back to the tower. We'll pin them there and then fall upon them like a hammer blow." He raised his voice. "The rest of you are with me. Cleanse the jetii from the courtyard. Kad smiles upon us, vod. Let us pray." His beskad rang as unsheathed it.
And then the Reaver Lord leaped to the courtyard below.
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Trull Ordo
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Affiliation: The Mandalorian Empire
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Post by Trull Ordo on Nov 10, 2014 20:48:19 GMT -8
Sealed away in his helmet, sound dampeners manually maximized, Trull caught only the deepest rumblings as the craft shook. All was silence, a muted life. He idly wondered if this was what it was like to be deaf, and clenched at the spear resting across his knees. As the distance between the landing craft and the ground dwindled, Trull gazed lovingly at his weapon.
It was stained and battered in places. A small dent near the pommel from a buckethead who'd stepped out of line, and a slight warping near the mid-grip. The quarter-serrated blade was scarred and stained in a few small places. It was a dear weapon, a friend since his youth, and the first tool of his adulthood. He’d carried it on his first crusade, and he recalled the first kill he’d made with it: an ordinary man, a soldier with a blaster rifle, trying to burn a hole through Trull’s chestplate. The then-acolyte had expertly gored his enemy with a single thrust, and charged on without a thought.
Thinking back, he could even see the man’s face, vaguely obscured by an HUD lens. He was resigned, like a man watching a storm coming over the horizon.
Trull glanced out the embarking bay. This was his storm, and he could hear the thunder rumbling.
The storm broke when Trull eased himself out of his seat, gingerly falling to earth. He hefted the spear and shouldered his shield, quietly beginning to walk towards the battle. With wind howling and sky roaring in his heart, the worn old man slowly eased back the sonic dampeners, letting the shriek of war seep in.
Something instantly swelled in his chest; an agonizing wound, a cyst begging for release. Trull gasped and almost buckled, heart crawling with a pain that blurred the line between emotion and sensation.
“The Destroyer summons me,” he choked through his helmet. With tears in his eyes, the warrior swung his spear into an underhanded stabbing grip. “I come, my God.”
Running like he had not run in decades, Trull reached the nearest line of defenders. They were hunkered behind a low wall, taking potshots at the surging Mandalorians. Trull caught a flurry of fire against his shield, and then he was among them. Blood spattered and spurted across his armor, the motions of death coming easily to the old limbs, the tools long-unused still retaining their old familiarity.
It was the work of seconds to undo the decay of years.
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 11, 2014 18:17:48 GMT -8
With Ripper in his left hand and his beskad clutched in his right, Faust screamed a challenge as the Republic soldiers closed in. His reavers dropped to the ground around him, jabbering praises to Kad and cursing their foes in the same breaths. The priest sprinted forward, only a few meters to Trull's right. He raised his pistol and fired at the soldier in front of him. The slug punched through his plastoid breastplate and exited with a meaty splat. The man was dead before he fell.
A blasterbolt bounced off his chest as he stepped over the corpse. He turned, snarling, and set his gaze on the Rodian that had fired at him. The Ripper barked twice more, and the alien was no more.
The initial charge had slowed to a standstill. Soldiers from both sides crouched behind barricades and makeshift cover, trading sporadic fire. Only the vanguard lead by the priests still saw heavy action; as Trull tore into the soldiers behind the wall, Faust used his beskad to point at the doors to the Jedi's tower. "Forward!" he screamed, raising his voice over the cacophony. Blaster bolts skipped against the ground around him.
They fell upon the defenders' line, and suddenly the sound of rifles dissolved into the clang of metal against metal and the shouts of the dying. Knocking aside a vibroblade with his beskad, Faust drove his elbow into the soldier's nose. When he drew back, the priest whipped his blade around and opened his throat. Blood spattered across the Reaver Lord's breastplate and painted his manic smile red.
As he turned to engage another of the Republic's soldiers, Faust holstered his Ripper and yanked the dirk from his belt. "Father," he grunted as he checked a blow from a bayonet, "look upon your servant's works with favor this day." He blocked another blow with his beskad, blades tangling above their heads, then stepped forward to bury his dirk in the soldier's stomach.
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