#anti imperial troopers

[circus20204]

The rail class arc troopers and the anti imperial troopers

OK we have the nulls and the alpha class and later due to a star wars game we have the rail class arc troopers and anti imp troopers created by a rogue group to force the empire away. the kamino uprising that the imperial clones had to wipe out I couldn't help but make lore on these guys even with the troopers and arcs before them I couldn't help but feel their lives where different to a point under some circumstance it would create a barrier. I may explain a little later and some alternative lore on them cause we really didn't see to much of these guys

[caffeinesam]

HONEY WAKE UP A NEW TAKE ON THE TROLLEY PROBLEM JUST DROPPED

(from fb, op said we inched closer to starship troopers society, some fascists said they sure hoped so)

[2stepadmiral]

Under things the EU did better than Disney for $300, we have portrayal of the Empire.

In Disney Star Wars, the Empire is simply an exaggerated portrayal of the Third Reich. Most everyone in the Empire is shown to be fanatically loyal to the regime, and even when their motives are based in relatable reasons, like preserving order or stability following the turbulence of the Clone Wars, are usually portrayed in a fanatical light that seems excessive. Plus, the utter incompetence of most every trooper and officer in Rebels makes the Empire feel bloated and often like a parody.

In the EU, there was much more nuance to the Empire. Obviously, Palpatine, Tarkin, Isard, and other higher ups who are decidedly evil, and there are sadistic troops and officers spread throughout the ranks, but there are honorable individuals as well, and after the death of Palpatine and his immediate successors, the more noble members of the Imperial military become prominent.

Beginning especially during Thrawn’s campaign, when merit and creativity were rewarded, respectful decorum towards opponents was the order of the day, and incompetence, violent excesses, or conduct unbecoming of an officer were never tolerated, the Gilad Pellaeons of the military had a chance to shine and become the rule rather than the exception. Sure, Pellaeon himself took some more time after Thrawn to fully shake off some of the more violent tendencies of Imperial Officers and the anti-alien bias, but by the time he was supreme commander of the Empire, he had decidedly evolved into a truly good man and leader, the exact one that the Empire needed to lead it from being the absolute image of totalitarian tyranny to a well integrated society that embraced the same diversity of the New Republic and was just a bit more structured.

And don’t even get me started on the competence. It was clearly established that Stormtroopers were elite soldiers, and that their failures in the OT were due to direct orders not to kill (Death Star and Bespin) or due to being surprised and overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers (Endor). There was one novel by Timothy Zahn, Survivor’s Quest, where two 501st stormtroopers, worn down by the hundreds of adversaries they had killed, were reinforced by the arrival of two of fresh troops, and the two unharmed and non-weary troops completely finished the remaining few hundred.

Summed up, the Empire had a more complex portrayal in the EU than simply getting beaten and reformed as the even more radical second Empire, and that made the story more interesting. It’s a shame that we aren’t getting that now.

[elthadriel]

The Scent of Embers Lingers in the Air

Summary: Cody has made himself an invaluable asset to the Empire as a Purge Trooper. He has made himself an equally invaluable source of intel to the Rebellion when it suits him. Unexpectedly reassigned to a new Inquisitor charged with hunting a high-priority target, Cody intends for both of those things to remain true. Relationships: Cody & Barriss Offee, Cody/Rex Rating: M Tags: Imperial Era, Post-Order 66, No Chip AU, Purge Trooper Cody, Inquisitor Barriss Offee, Resentful coworkers to friends, Fascism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Unrepentant genocide justifications from pov character, Canon typical xenophobia and anti-clone sentiments, Cultural annihilation, Unreliable Narrator, Dubious Morality, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Past Barriss/Ahsoka, Pre-Redemption, Hopeful Ending Read on Ao3

For the @clonebang 2023

Featuring gorgous art from @sankt-jesper, @olives-and-lilies and @cmarani. Beta'd by @shadowlight17

[hadesoftheladies]

i've been on radblr for a while, and maybe it's because of the specific users i follow being woc or disabled, but recently i've been seeing more ableist and racist radblr users crawl from whatever hole they've been molting in

in light of a recent conversation thread between @menalez and two whitefems, i've come to see the issue other radblr users have been talking about

radblr lacks a culture of intersectionality. there are many white/straight/abled women here who think solidarity means we only cater to their liberation, and they can ditch us whenever they please. it is one-sided support, and isn't solidarity at all. they are used to being centered, used to seeing themselves as default woman, used to seeing themselves as the standard of feminism and womanhood. their problems as more deserving.

i'm not going to use this post to diagnose radblr, but to say why these women are insanely stupid

racist and imperial radfems have been bold in their assertion that their empires are somehow benevolent, neutral, helpful to outsiders. they have endorsed their militaries, asserted that they are genetically and intellectually superior, and that they're oh so tired of stupid, backward women from stupid, backward countries whining about how colonization improved their society. (and some western black users have agreed).

and it's so STUPID because . . . how do you not see you're approving of the structure of your own oppression while complaining about the injustice of it?

you can acknowledge that men have misattributed women's achievements to men, that they have destroyed, twisted, and erased their history. you can acknowledge that the reason there weren't as many women geniuses as men was because of the brutal subjugation and social, economic barriers women faced, or some just had their ideas stolen and died unnamed and unattached to their invention. you understand how women's language, spaces, and philosophy have been hijacked by the male perspective in everything, from religion, to education, to literature. in marxist or materialist analysis, you understand that economy creates culture.

but you can't understand any of that when it comes to majority world countries? you mysteriously lose your capacity to analyze culture when you're at the top? your countries are rich because they're just so gosh darn good at being rich, aren't they? stolen wealth and labor doesn't give you a head start at all! and if money is power, and you have the money, you can get away with stealing even more, but that only applies to men, see? not our nice, lovely, governments! colonization and war aren't actually that bad or brutal and don't have any lasting negative effects! neocolonial systems don't exist! it's not like our beloved empires have anything to do with killing the cultures of billions because they can, they have, and it is in their best political and economic interest to. black people never did anything significant! this is a fact, and has nothing to do with deliberate propaganda from imperial countries! imperialist propaganda, ha! imagine that? african and asian people can't be smarter than white people, because . . . . genetics! whitefems on radblr care so much about science when it comes to transwomen, but their brains turn to mush when it comes to thinking whiteness somehow genetically increases intelligence. biology, everybody!

it's honestly funny. like you're trading one regime for another, congrats! you're anti-revolution! you can get off our backs and stop using our plight as examples of your oppression.

and to the british storm trooper that claimed her intelligence was genetic--if you truly believe that, you've got two options:

consider that this statement is unscientific, racist, and false, or

take an ancestry DNA test and find out if you're adopted :)

[x-reader-things]

Hi! Could I send in a request for Sabine wren (platonic) with the prompt “you shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn't me.” Where the reader is her younger sibling, but not much of a fighter; but during a rescue of Reader, Sabine and them are pinned down and she has to leave to try get the empire off of the reader. Rest can be up to you!

Thank you for requesting!

Don’t really have too much to say for this one. Took a while cause I got a few requests all at once, got overwhelmed as I usually do, and needed a bit to figure out what I was gonna write. But still, Tysm for your request!! <3333

I hope you enjoy- :DDD

Prompt lists can be reached here. Scroll down to the bottom and you’ll see them- :DDD added a new one recently too!!

“Understand, mir’osik?”

Sabine Wren x Gn!reader [platonic]

Summary ; in which you’re reluctant to use one of Sabine’s weapons to protect yourself.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; small bits of typical canonical violence in Star Wars. Nothing too descriptive.

Definitions ; “Mir’osik” - Mando’a for “Dung for brains”

Word Count ; 643

——————————————————————

"You shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn't me."

You blinked, looking at the blaster usually kept in one of the holsters your older sister had strapped to her waist daily. You aren't a fighter by any means, despite being born and raised mandolorian. You knew damn well that you can not, in any way, trust yourself with a blaster. Let alone to protect yourself, too.

You weren’t a warrior. You were more so a writer, like your father an Artist. He liked to tell you that you were an ‘artist with words’, since that’s what writing was for you. It was your art. Your thoughts and imaginations scoured onto pages and pages of holographic words, hoping that at least a few people would enjoy them.

Which is… coincidentally what got you into this mess.

Writing a story that had anti-imperial themes.

Lovely.

"Sabine, no - i don't even know how to use this thing!”, you told her, staring at the troopers coming down the hallway from around her shoulder. You gulped down a lump in your throat, fear coming up your spine in waves.

Sabine swiftly turns away from you, holding her other blaster up in one hand and practically tearing down the few bucket heads that got too close for her liking. You flinched, staring up at your older sister. You’ve never seen her so angry before.

Fierce, too.

She’s always been protective of both you and Tristan, even as the middle child between yourself and your older brother. Force help those who hurt her family. You forgot what that even looked like, in all honesty.

With everything that happened when she left the Imperial Academy, and then your family being put on constant surveillance because she had the (honestly inspiring) gall to stand up against what the empire was doing with her designs all those years ago. Not to mention your own father being held in captivity.

There was a lot going on.

You honestly weren’t prepared in the slightest to see her like this.

She slipped her helmet on. “I’ll be back.”, she told you, sternly pointing at you. “Stay here, and remember what I said. Shoot anyone that isn’t me. Just aim the best you can and pull the trigger. Understand mir'osik?”

You let out a breath at the word, a strange sense of comfort found within the lines of the insult. With a nod from you, she nodded back at you and turned away fully, her mandalorian-style jetpack facing you.

“Spectre-5 to Spectres 6 and 4, I found them—“, she turned her head a little, glancing at you while raising her hand up. It was to push the button that opened and closed the door. “Bring the Phantom II around back. We’re a little… stuck. But I can handle it.”

She scoffed at a muffled voice, one that you couldn’t make out exactly. It sounded older, though. Gruff. Like a growl, almost. Probably that purple Lasat you saw with her in wanted portraits from a while ago. Part of her other family (that you’re very grateful for).

“Yes, I can, Zeb.” Another voice. A bit younger than her. If you could guess, around your age. Maybe. “Oh please.”

You knew that tone of voice.

Still as stubborn and sarcastic as ever.

“Like I’d ever let a single one of those bucket heads get close to them. Just watch me. I’ll show them what ‘disrespecting an empire’ really means—“

She pressed the button.

The door wooshed closed, a hiss and a small click notifying you that the door was closed shut.

You took a deep breath.

Waited for the blaster fire and Sabine’s footsteps to fall away.

Held up her blaster the best you could, trying to mirror the way she held hers both now and before you two were separated.

Breathed out slowly.

And took aim.

[cantsayidont]

So, all last week and the week before, I got a barrage of email junk from the ACLU begging for donations to Protect Democracy and Safeguard Civil Rights and stuff. I was already pretty salty about those on account of the "refusing to divest from Israel because it would harm the liquidity of their fucking investment portfolio" thing (see above link).

Then this morning, I get an ACLU email alert saying their latest local issue is … begging Biden to issue presidential pardons for 25 military veterans who were previously deported under Biden's sweeping deportation campaign, and framing this as being about how these Heroic Veterans are now in danger of being deported by the evil Trump. Which would seem awfully disingenuous to me even if I were sympathetic to the premise that people who sign up to commit imperial violence abroad should be entitled to a special path to citizenship, which, uh, not so much. (Borders are violence and the bipartisan anti-immigrant crusade is malevolent, but so is the U.S. military!) It feels way too STARSHIP TROOPERS for my liking.

This seems an uncomfortable preview of what we can probably expect from the ACLU over the next four years: attempts to Appeal to Patriotism and Appeal to Nationalism with some cosmetic lip service toward Civil Rights (for Loyal Citizens only, of course).

[ask-dcf]

Chara Starhunter

❌NAME: Chara Starhunter ❌ Pronounces: She/her ❌Age: 18 ❌Gender: Female ❌Personality: Despite her serious looking demeanor she is welcoming of anyone who wishes to talk to her. However she is also a no shit taker. So if threatened or looked down on she won’t hesitate to throw a punch to defend herself or others. ❌ Side: For Freedom ❌About or story: Chara Starhunter is from a Star Wars AU and is a former imperial Ace pilot and is considered the youngest Ace pilot of the imperial academy. Top marks. A strong resistance to G-Force capable of handling turns that could harm anyone. And leader of the first Commando Experiment Squad known as “Circus Squad” (Because unlike the gray hue every imperial pilot had on their fighters. Theirs differentiates with many colors, as if like a circus) She became known as the “Red Baroness” (as a reference to the red Baron) and was seen as a highly decorated star pilot. However an incident caused her to lose her whole squadron who she saw as her own family. Because of this she went rogue and began to harass the Company that abandoned her and her pilots to a suicide mission. After escaping from a chase in battle her ship had a malfunction which caused her hyper speed escape to break the barrier between worlds. Causing her to crash into the anti-void. Where she was introduced to the multiverse.

She found herself in the unnamed universe and deciding to put her skills to good use. With help of getting her ship fixed and fueled she signed up with the Red Squad. Working as an infiltrator at times but mostly eyes in the sky and air combatant. She is always looking for new missions in order to help those in need.

❌Sector: Homebased at B. Tends to go to C a lot on missions.

❌Powers and capacity: Has no magic but is good at hand to hand combat (she works out at the gym). She is also good with her blasters and doesn’t miss like a typical storm trooper. But her go-to is her star fighter.

Equipment:

Modified EC-17 hold-out blaster with proper scope setting and flash pistol function. Able to shoot a bolt that can blind her enemies when fired.

WESTAR-35 Mandalorian pistol. Usually used when having to go on team missions. Basic pistol functions with self recharging power battery.

GALAAR-15 (CURRENTLY BROKEN) Assault rifle she found along with the WESTAR on her home planet she was visiting to scavenge for supplies. Weapon’s power cell and inner mechanical functions damaged and is useless until repaired.

Modified TIE/HU Hunter multi-role starfighter. Colored Red. Call sign “Heartbreaker”. Preferred to be used by Chara. Capable of hyperdrive, shields, ion blasters, laser canons, and up to 12 proton torpedoes. The twin ion engines and S-foils helps this starfighter be deadly with both with both fire power and speed. Navigation system shotty due to being in new universe. However constantly updated when on a new mission to a new place.

————————————————————————————-

Character for @1unnamed-universe Discord server

So yeah I made a new chara combining both Star Wars and undertale XD Two my fave fandoms. Course in the Star Wars AU she didn’t go down the usual Chara path. She is an absolute bad ass and I love her. Especially the ship she flying. I loved the Tie Hunters when I was a kid playing rogue squadron.

I thought I would do something interesting by having a starfighter Chara with many modified stuff to help her in battle.

So am gonna have fun playing her. One day I hope to get her ship designed with a proper ref. I’ll give more details of her background soon but for now just gonna have the standard ref and info.

art by @xjunjox

[stellanslashgeode]

Happy Barriss Day! Here is a sneak peek at the latest chapter of Way of the Mynock that could well serve as a stand-alone for this event. Enjoy.

  The city was dead. The city was a bombed-out ruin. 

  The Empire detonated a low-yield fission bomb here at the start of the regime. This was where Mirial’s ex-CIS militia had gathered and plotted against them. It used to be one of the most holy cities on the planet. Low latitude it was close to the Southern Ice Cap, close to the realm of The Silent One. The better to speak with him, being so close. A fine place to raise chantries to his name.

  None of which remained undamaged.

  A grey snow fell softly into the alleyway. There was slush in every corner. And bodies. Some of them fresh, some just bones.

  A trio of TIE-bombers cut eddied through the snowfall as they flew overhead releasing a fresh payload of bombs to pulverize the ruins into yet smaller pieces. A rocket-propelled grenade steaked upwards to strike one of them. It bellowed flames and smoke and spiraled to the ground but the other two did not break formation. They knew to be more disciplined then to go off expressing concern over the welfare of their fellow pilots. It thudded into the rubble with little fanfare.

  Detonating that fusion bomb here was an affront to their culture of the highest degree. The Empire wiped out whole families in an instant, and who would be left to pray their deeds to The Silent One then? They would not live forever beyond their deaths.

  Barriss felt lightheaded being in this battlefield. That and she still hadn’t become accustomed to the feel of her shorter new haircut. It had grown out a bit since her morning period began, however.

  The Rebel in front of her went down on one knee and held up a fist with their arm at a square angle. Barriss hugged the wall and went as low as she could.

  A squid-like Arakyd Industries Viper probe droid passed them hovering over the parallel street, using its passive scanners. The Imperials had tied a number of charred skulls to the droid’s arms in a macabre show of offense to the Mirialans. They knocked together like a wind chime as it passed them.

  A few blocks away they had to pause again. A lone Imperial Army grunt was stumbling around studying his holo map and trying to get oriented.

  “Sergeant, do you need this one for interrogation?”

  “No, ma’am.” was their response.

  Barriss stood and straightened. She was wearing a lot of cumbersome clothing, a heavy coat and personal protective equipment to protect herself against radiation. She strode towards the trooper, who dropped his map and took a few shots at her. She batted them away with Luminara’s saber and shot him in the chest dead with one of her pistols with her left hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  The Rebels had utilized the underground shelters built in haste during the war. The locals had been loath to lose so many of their religious artifacts to a lone bomb. So they’d constructed a labaranthine complex utilizing existing maintenance and utilities structures. They cleared Barriss so she could pass security unchallenged. They were old battle droids, though few retained their original parts. Components of other droid models infected them and spread like disease. A few muttered their ‘Rodger, Rodger’s in greetings as she passed them. That gave her a chill sensation of deja vu. The young man seated at the antipersonnel turret couldn’t be older than Barriss was when she went off to Geonosis for her first battle. He waved to her and called out her name.

  Then they were in the tunnels. Both walls were covered with religious idols and paintings, religious and secular. Some of them were newer, drawn on whatever sheet of flimsi could be scrounged. Their metals were tarnished but their pigments were protected. Some stretches were lit only by candlelight. There was art everywhere in the city. Every alleyway was covered in graffiti, both anti-Imperial and pro.

  “Does a priest attend to these frequently?”

  “Oh yes, we have a few that maintain what ceremonies they can and salvage as many relics.” the Sergeant replied. “In fact, one Brother wanted to speak with you, privately, as soon as possible.”

  Barriss raised her brows. Her curiosity was piqued, if only to moderate the grim reality of warfare all around her. “Really? Let us endeavor to arrive as soon as possible.”

  She passed into a hall of portraiture. Historical figures as well as the wealthy and their relatives. She saw paintings of Vernestra Rowe, of Cyslin Myr, Luminara Unduli, and even one of her. A propaganda poster against the Republic.

  And then she was in the main living spaces for the vertically exiled. There were Mirialans of all ages and shades of purple or green. One of them, chartreuse like her, wore the white robes of a priest of The Silent One. His long curly hair was covered at least at the scalp with a telltale headcovering. He raised his palms upwards and nodded to her. “Miss Offee, I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Brother. Can you wait until my business is done?” She was sad to postpone him. He seemed like a very pleasant young man whom she would like to speak with at leisure, if the circumstances were different. Better.

  “Yes, it can wait. But what you brought cannot. A very important man needs to debrief you.”

  “Yes?”

  An older man also approached her. “Is it here? Were you able to smuggle them in?”

  “Yes. You must be the camp chef.”

  “Indeed! I’ll get them split up and distributed to as many kitchens as we can reach.”

  They didn’t want help ousting the Empire. They had enough troops to at least keep them at bay. They hadn’t asked for weapons. Their old CIS hardware had long since worn out, or perhaps savored and polished but never used. They took whatever weapons they could lift from the Empire. They didn’t even want food. They had enough vat-grown protein and hydroponically fruits, vegetables, and grains to last the tiny population. What they needed was medical supplies. 

  And what they wanted was spices. They wanted their food to taste Mirialan again. The chef held the first two liberated tins aloft triumphantly and there was a cheer from all around them as if a battle had just been won.

  After receiving the personal thanks of a number of both citizens and soldiers she convinced her handlers to lead her to Agent Adan’s office. The Balosar was in his workshop, which is what he called the clinic he interrogated prisoners in. He was just taking off his surgical gloves.

  Barriss offered him a smile, a friendly greeting she could not extend to his IGO-series interrogation droid. Caern Adan smiled broadly and his antennae came up to attention, the tips of which poked through his long afro hairstyle.

  “Fulcrum, welcome to the Mirialan Resistance.”

  “Agent,” she embraced him. Then sat attentively at a stool. “How are things?”

  He slumped into an office chair and unbuttoned the sleeve on his left arm. “We are surviving. It’s getting too cost-prohibitive and logistically bothersome to wipe us out for good.” He’d shed his doctor’s coat and had his shirt up to his bicep. Then he grabbed a latex tube off a tray of interrogation implements. He tied off his arm and quickly found a hypodermic to shoot something into a vein.

  “Are you alright, Caern?”

  “Oh, it’s just a little cocktail I brewed up. A dilution of my truth serum. It helps me relax and seems to help with debriefings.”

  “You need Alliance help. That would bless your cause with a sense of permanence. Who’s in charge here?”

  Adan laughed at her. 

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whenever someone asked, ‘Who’s in charge around here?’ likely they are a high-ranking individual and they are the only one’s left in charge. It’s like cursing yourself. We’re a leaderless resistance. We haven’t had central command in years.”

  “Do you compartmentalize everything?”

  “No, share and share alike. We just rebel as we can where we can. I share all the intelligence I can pull from these Imps. But those not of use to Mirial operations I siphon off into a silo and give to you.”

  “And I am all the more grateful to you, Agent.”

  He handed the drive over, and they spoke for a long while summarizing which data points she needed to know as soon as possible. 

  She also had personal curiosities to sate, even if it was concerning personal information. “Caern, why do you fight with us? Why are you here on Mirial?”

  “Is there a stereotype about Boasolar that we are specialist? He rubbed his injection site. “In another life I was an economics reporter.”

  “A lot makes sense, now.” She often wondered if her reporter friend Ben Dhur who she met on Drognar would make a good spy. Or interrogator.

  “I wrote a few too many exposes on the financial malfeasance of the Banking Clan. They put me in Jail, here on Mirial. I’ve become attached to the place, even as a freed criminal.”

  “I see. Thank you, Agent Adan.”

  After a bit more smalltalk she left his office to find the young Acolyte again.

  “Hey.” He smiled broadly at her. His expression was overwhelming to Barriss’s ex-Jedi formality. “I am so glad to meet you.”

  “I’m Barriss, as you know.” She offered her hand.

  He shook it with genuine warmth and vigor. “I’m Brother Offee.” He seemed delighted by her emotional response. “Ayaz Offee.”

  “Brother Offee.” She was whispering now. “Are we? Of the same clan?”

  “We are cousins! Your mother is my aunt. I am a cousin to the great, famous Adept Barriss Offee. To you.”

  She sputtered. Her brain was on an error screen. She didn’t know what to do but embrace him. “What can you tell me about your aunt? Does my mother have other children? Do I have an actual brother Offee?”

  “You do. After she was deported back to her home village, she married a shepherd and had seven children. A few of them died.” He swallowed. “But you have sisters and a brother.”

 “Ohhh!” She sighted with many positive emotions. It was so alien to her experience so many at once she didn’t know how to tell them apart. “And my father?”

  “We don’t know who he was. Some guy who saw her walking home one afternoon. But she was happy with her husband.”

  “Was? Do I not have a father-in-law?”

  “He was drafted in the planetary militia during the war. Your mother was devastated to lose him, but she sought out what Jedi casualties she could find on CIS occupied Mirial. She was so proud of you when you refused to fight us any longer.”

  “She wasn’t ashamed of my bombing?”

  Ayaz shook his head. “Barriss, in many parts of your home you are a folk hero. We didn’t get to see much footage of the Jedi, except for when they died in battle. Your confession we all heard. In Confederate households you embody national bravery under pressure. Your mother is sad she has no relationship with you, but she is proud of you.”

  “Oh,” She smiled. She put a hand to her fluttering heart. “I am so glad to hear that. I’m finding it difficult to express how I feel.” Just earlier that hour she had no family beyond Ahsoka. And they couldn’t be together as she wished. Now she has an extended family. A whole clan. All of them for her to meet for the first time.

  “It’s alright, Barriss.” He put a hand out to squeeze her forearm for reassurance. “Gizem would like to meet you one day.”

  “Gizem,” she breathed. “That’s my mother’s name… What is she like?”

  “She is a shepherd’s wife. She has little education but has great amounts of personal conviction. She has a principled stance on everything and everyone. But will only disclose her opinions if asked or unless it is an emergency. Then she will expound loudly and at length. And she has a very peculiar notion of what constitutes an emergency.”

  Barriss laughed at that. “I would love to get to know her. And you, as well. Could you show me your chantry?”

  “I would treasure such an opportunity! Follow me.”

  Ayaz would be in an adobe ground chantry if he could, one of the historical temples rebuilt. Barriss had never seen a chantry that was a series of interconnected chambers underground, chambers of varying size and utilized for various purposes. One room was the space for Recitation Ritual. There was a droid there. Its body was made from a B2. Its head is that of a commando droid. It has four arms from B1 combat chassises. There was a steel-ribbed nylon bag next to it. Scholars stopped by at regular intervals to drop new data pads onto the load, the corner of the bag was torn and there were a few on the floor. The droid read prayers to The Silent One and stories of those deceased for the god to hear and preserve for all time.

  “You don’t have an Adept for this task?”

  “I speak the stories of those who just died in the community. The chantry’s scholar staff spends their days compiling obituaries for those who died in the bombings with no one else to speak for them. It took so much of my time I had the tech shop make me a mechanical Adept.”

  “That is good of you, Brother Offee. I am sure he is pleased by your service. And the droid’s.”

  Then he showed her the congregation hall, the pulpit and the rest of the expansive space. The walls were all covered in religious statues. They were all broken. There were small droids swarming all over them, replacing missing stone with duracrete recreations. But at many places the data was corrupted, their forms stuttered like holo interference. Others surely were not built to look like that. They were a droid intelligence’s idea of how their original forms. It was like being in a tomb. Chantries dedicated to The Silent One were supposed to have that flavor, but not quite like this.

  “Barriss… I was wondering. Would you like to lead services? The kids always ask me about you.”

  “You want me to be a youth pastor?” She smiled with one-half of her lips, giving him a look.

  “Barriss, you’re a legend. It would be memorable for them.”

  She couldn’t say no to that. As he got everything prepared she sat and thought about children. She’d never really considered family before. Now she had one, despite not having her own children. In another life, would she and Ahsoka have kids of their own? Would they be boys or girls? Would they be Togruta or Mirialan.

  The younglings filed in once families were contacted. Their parents washed their feet and took their place at the rear of the worship hall. Barriss sought to blink back her tears seeing all of them. Too many had radiation burns and other injuries of warfare and deprivation. The kids either sat still or whispered to each other. She heard her name often.

  Barriss eventually turned on her microphone. “Siblings. My family. I am so glad to be here with you. Before services I want to swear something to you.” She stood, and took Luminara’s lightsaber from its holster at the small of her back. She held it aloft. She activated the blade.

  “I swear by Jedi Master Luminara’s blade, my own master, that I shall fight for Mirial as long as I live. And my ghost will commit to the fight afterwards. Mirial shall one day be free of the Empire. I swear to you, and to your children yet to be, that I shall fight for him. I swear to Luminara, and I swear to the goddesses. And I swear to you.”

  “And so you shall. Blessed be!” the others chanted in unison. Including the younglings old enough to speak. She looked over them all, one by one. 

  This was the future of the planet. This was the future of her culture.

  “Now I shall start our worship with a parable.” She knelt, put her hands on her thighs, and recalled the one Leia treasured as a bedtime story. “In the time before time began the gods and goddesses wore Mirialan forms walking and talking just like you and I. It was decided that He of the Strong Foundations and She of the Flowing Waters should be wed for the good of future generations…”

@barrissday

[gia-batmm-crickle22]

I'm still working on my Rebels! Thranto AU but while I was, this little shit slipped into my mind.

Okay, so I'll call this my "Bad Ending" of my Blueberry Family AU. There's a lot of differences in this AU than the original timeline.

In this AU, Ezra is Thrawn and Eli's third child (middle child) and he had two older brothers (Crusher and Darington) one little sister (Thornella) and one little brother (Ryo Speedy). He grew up with them until he was 14 years old, where he separated from them to "seek his own path" like his brothers had at that age.

The Ghost are also different in this AU. Hera is still motherly (ain't changing her 😌), Kanan can be a bit physically violent in terms of his Jedi Training, Sabine is violent and abusive (her experience at the Imperial Academy wasn't the best). Zeb is somewhere his age (when Ezra was 14 to 15 years old, Zeb was 16. They got together when Ezra was 16, Zeb was 17) and he was the royal Prince of Lasan before it was destroyed. The loss also made him abusive and entitled. Chopper is nicer, but not that much.

Anyway, it's called the "Bad Ending" not because it ended badly from beginning. Ezra already got his happily ever after. Married (when he was 25 and Zeb is 26), with kids and happily living with Zeb in Lira San ("Perfect Family Life"). But it all ended when something went wrong. Lira San was destroyed. Ezra watched his family and the family get gunned down by the rise of the New Empire. The troopers gunned and killed everyone he knew, even as he tried to battle Palpatine, he lost. His sister Thornella saved him and tossed him through a portal that she made before she was killed.

Now orphaned, abandoned and traumatized, Ezra, now with the identity of Thez Vanto, is roaming through the original timeline to find out what happened to his time and how he should stop it from happening.

He's an Anti-Hero. He teams up with the Rebellion (it's somewhere Season 3) but he does many questionable things within the Rebellion. Many from his own experience and the effect of trauma. He tries to control his other self into helping him while protectively helping him and caring for him. He argues with Sabine and is always icy towards her. He's 36 years old at this time, and he intentionally flirts with Zeb (who is 45). He doesn't really trust Kanan but trusts Hera and Chopper at the most.

That's all I got so far. I'll update if I'll have anymore ^^

[nightbringer24]

"Commissar Cain. This is Central Command, we have detected a Norn Emissary."

My heart dropped into my boots, it was not the report itself that almost sent me into a panic, no. After a century of sometimes faithful service to his Majsty I was used to horrible creatures popping out of the woodwork, no. What filled me with dread was what I knew would follow, I had no doubts about what would happen next.

"We strongly believe you are its intended target." There, I hated not being wrong.

"Could you distract it while we line up the assets necessary to take it out? Of course please don't feel the need to hold back, you are free to engage and kill it yourself." There were days, very rare days, when I regretted not being born a psyker so that I could strangle people over the Vox. This was just such a day.

"Certainly, tell the Lord Commander Zyvan that I will do what's in my power." "Copy that Commissar, Command Out." I sighed inwardly, tightening my grip on the chainsword.

"Guardsmen, we have a Norn Emissary on its way here. Let us show that hellish creatures what the Imperial Guard is made of!" Blood and Guts, is probably what the Emissary will find out.

The Death Korps of Krieg troopers lifted their lasguns and shovels and started chanting

"Sacrifice for the Emperor!"

I wished I had an anti-gas mask like them so I could cry behind its cover.

Yeah. Cain's life is just suffering and PR, really. Sprinkled with a dash of genuine balls to walls bravery.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 31

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Crouched upon the edge of a clocktower, Ardyn's eyes followed countless men and women running out from the main chambers of The House of the Courts. As he crept in the shadows--taking in the outbreak of screams and gunfire--he was able to piece together the chain of events via babble from the masses. This dangerous affair had been concocted by the anti-imperialist group who attacked a week prior. He had come to learn that the wedding only infuriated the tensions within the faction, and the leaders decided unanimously to attempt a coup against Madam Secretary and her council. 

Ardyn hadn’t seen such chaos in a long time, and found himself enthralled with what lurked beneath. He considered it somewhat of a travesty none of this was his doing. What he wouldn’t give to knock Camelia down a few pegs via terror and confusion! Alas, he humbled himself. Ardyn had many grievances with her over the years, but Camelia was useful. At the very least compliant with his and the empires overarching goals. She knew better. Ardyn couldn’t say the same for the anti-imperialists who yearned to take her place. Their anger held no bounds from what he gathered after spying about on his lonesome. 

“My, my…choices, choices,” Ardyn sang to himself and frowned. He knew this skirmish wasn’t his circus, and therefore, not his problem. However, he did the math. With how intertwined Accordo and Niflheim’s economies had become, a coup succession would hurt the empires bottom line. An unprecedented event of this making could spur Lucis to take back their lands, and inspire Tenebrae to pull a similar feat. Therefore, Ardyn knew he couldn’t stand back and risk the coups success with overthrowing Camelia. This rival faction didn’t seem the type who could be reasoned with, much less manipulated. 

“Better to keep a tight leash around an old obedient hound than deal with a younger pup who is nothing but bite.” Ardyn bitterly mused. He wanted nothing more than to flee. To be on an airship heading back home with Y/N. The sooner he could nip this fiasco in a bud, the sooner he could do just that. 

Ardyn’s thoughts were interrupted by a commotion coming from the South. He watched with piqued curiosity as a group of Imperial ambassadors fled with some of Madam Secretary's council toward the main entry point. There were two Accordian troopers frantically attempting to seal it shut so neither foe or friend could get inside for shelter. 

“Don’t close the doors! Please, don’t close the doors! Let us in!” One of the women screeched. 

“Then hurry! We can’t afford to let anymore of those bastards get inside!” A trooper screamed back. 

Not far behind, Ardyn witnessed a fleet of fifteen rebels with guns shooting recklessly toward the direction of his fellow Imperials. They were about a hundred feet away, and gaining traction on their targets. If he could get to the ambassadors, and find out where Camelia was, his mission would be halfway done. 

“No better place to start,” Ardyn purred with a dark chuckle. He stood up, concentrating his powers on movement and in a shadowy mist he disappeared and made his descent. 

Reappearing behind a large column, Ardyn turned the corner to observe his surroundings. He didn’t account for there being so many Accordo troopers and anti-imperialists fighting left and right on ground. While he could take advantage of the disarray, and rush to meet with his fellow countrymen, it was too risky of a feat to pull at this point. If he wasn’t so concerned with concealing his true self, Ardyn saw plenty of opportunity where he could’ve used the royal arms to his advantage. 

“Damn it,” Ardyn muttered. He watched the large doors close from afar as the last ambassador managed to jump inside. He began to look around for another point of entry, and zeroed in on a hole in the wall that had been created via an explosive. He made a run for it, using shadow step minimally so he couldn’t be perceived by ally and foe alike. Luckily everyone was so caught up with killing one another, that he made it without surprise. 

Ducking in, Ardyn crawled a little ways before he was on the other side. He motioned with his right hand, summoning his sword Rakshasa, and swiped at the crevice he exited from. Rubble came tumbling down, and covered the spot. Thus ensuring no one else could use the hole to their advantage. 

Gripping the hilt of the sword, Ardyn brought Rakshasa close to his face and began to murmur in an ancient tongue. The blade hummed in return as he felt its energy pulse according to instruction. In a matter of moments, Rakshasa had taken the form of a regular Imperial sword; losing its Lucian touch and signature color. 

“Apologies old friend,” Ardyn frowned. “We can’t afford to make a grand entrance here. I’m afraid you’d tell Madam Secretary far too much.”  

Although the crimson blade by no means had a conscience, there was a life force within that responded to Ardyn’s words. He could practically feel the residue of resentment coming off the weapon as he bounded for the west hall upon following the sound of gunfire. Whether it was his own projection or not didn’t matter. Sword and master would have their pound of flesh. 

The havoc within the central chamber of the House of the Courts had knotted into an onslaught of bullets meeting shield, and skin meeting daggers. Men and women bravely screamed out the names of gods and curses before plunging into a pit of bodies vying for power. Souls soon met their ancestors as gurgled screams and death rattles danced into oblivion. The Imperial soldiers who had come to rescue their representatives were losing ground, and fast. The anti-imperialists were not like Niflheim’s Lucian foes. No. These folks were a different breed, and the way they carved out man after man downright terrified everyone who remained. Across all faces, hope was losing the edge of its flame.

Suddenly--as if the gods themselves had called for a ceasefire--everyone stopped mid attack. The air became dense with a foreboding on par to the crunch before lightning would strike. An Imperial soldier and anti-imperialist who had either blade to throat stared into each others eyes. Both shared the same confusion as they communicated without words their mutual fear. This energy wasn’t a friend to anyone, and both parties found themselves fixating on the west hall as the rhythmic sound of heavy boots drew close.

All eyes fell upon Ardyn as he sauntered out from the shadows of the west hall. He carried himself with a prestigious air that was unbefitting of someone rushing to battle. In his right hand was an imperial sword, already bathed in the warmth of blood. His left hand was illuminated by a dark sphere with bright blue static pulsating within the center. The playful poise of his movement matched the aura that a higher Imperial would ooze at the climax of an extravagant event. 

“I must say that I’m quite dispirited,” Ardyn tutted. The dark sphere in his left hand became more erratic as bolts of electricity zipped between his fingertips. “To think no one invited me to participate in this riveting performance! I just love coups and conspiracies!” 

“The Chancellor?!” One of the rebels exclaimed. 

“Ah, yours truly in the flesh!” Ardyn replied with bravado as he gave a performative bow, never losing balance with weapon nor the ticking time bomb in his left hand. His smile sent shivers down both friend and enemy alike, for it was just as sinister as it was charming. “I so hate to interrupt this little quarrel, but I too would like to dance!” 

As Ardyn hissed, he unleashed the sphere upon the center of the room. Within seconds, the sphere ignited into an explosive black hole. Amidst an outburst of screams, Ardyn used an ability akin to warp strike to quickly usher his fellow Imperials out of the danger zone, and to the next room. In a blink of an eye, every Imperial was teleported and tossed. The anti-imperialists left behind met a fate worse than death. Out from the sphere, electric tendrils manifested and forcibly grabbed everyone it could. Bodies were slurped into a dark void that proceeded to batter and tear limb from limb. Wails hauntingly bounced all throughout the room as some begged the gods to make their suffering cease. It went on for ages it seemed, until a crude silence slipped through the cracks. 

The Imperial soldiers whom Ardyn rescued stared with utter shock at the door as the screams dwindled. Dread didn't hold a torch to the visuals that plagued everyone despite not seeing the conclusion play out. 

“What the hell was that?” One of the men gulped. He was quite startled when Ardyn suddenly patted his shoulder. 

“A daemonic application prototype, courtesy of our esteemed Chief Besithia! I reckon that needs to be tinkered with. I myself felt nauseous watching everything unfold." Ardyn feigned a grimace then smiled. "Nevertheless, it did its job keeping us safe! Wouldn't you agree?" 

The soldier nodded rapidly. “T-thank you for saving us!” 

“Think nothing of it! A pleasure to be of assistance to my fellow man!” Ardyn replied in a jovial fashion. He gave one last pat to the soldier, nearly knocking the man forward unintentionally and cleared his throat, earning the attention of twelve men and women who stood in awe.  

“I know you all must be exhausted, but would one of you happen to know the whereabouts of dear Madam Secretary and our fellow associates?” 

“Last we heard, Madam Secretary was barricaded in her office. The rest are hiding in the lower basements." 

That was quick… Ardyn thought as his eyes narrowed to the woman who responded. “Do you have a body count of how many anti-imperialists remain in the House of the Courts?” 

“Fiffty-two sir,” She nodded. “That’s not counting the sixty-five that were allegedly on Madam Secretary’s tail before we showed up.”

“We can work with that,” Ardyn hummed as he contemplated. 

“Sir?” 

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you distinguished braves would follow my lead from this point forward,” Ardyn smiled big as he began to dictate his commands. “I have a plan to fetch us out of this terrible ordeal!” 

--------------------------------------------

“Madam Secretary, I don’t think we can hold them back for much longer!” 

“If the doors fail, we all die! Keep trying!” Camelia bellowed. She and several Accordo and Imperial councilmen were aiding soldiers in a desperate tug of war. Everyone pressed their bodies into furniture and whatever else was heavy in front of her office doors. The high pitched taunts of the anti-imperialists from the other side was deafening. The noise crushing morale and hope. 

While Camelia hadn't the unfortunate pleasure of encountering a daemon in her long life, she imagined her adversaries awaiting her on the other side had the same bloodthirsty nature. She lost count how many times she tried to reason with them. To try and be civil, but nothing had been gained. Camelia's heart ached for her country, for she sympathized with each and every man who was gunning for her execution. The people were tired of Niflheim. Tired of being under the boots of tyrannical men while watching their government grow more subservient. Tired of playing the middle ground between Lucis and the empire. Tired of it all. 

"A hundred years of war is long enough!" many had shouted, and Camelia knew the people were right. Alas there wasn’t a damned thing she could do. Not when at the end of the day, Niflheim had enough weaponry to destroy Eos a hundred times over. How could these rebels see that their actions were futile? Even if they killed her out of retribution, and taken over the country, did they truly expect Niflheim would turn the other cheek toward their transgression? Camelia’s eyes began to water as she visualized it. Her country which she loved with all her might, being swallowed by whatever horrors that hid in the lands of the empire. She couldn’t believe it was going to end like this. 

The horde continued to strike with one blow after another. Camelia could only guess they were using a battering ram at this point given the sudden power behind the hits. The soldiers who were manning the barricade wouldn’t be able to keep up. Another six strikes and everyone in the office was fair game. Camelia began to sweat as she felt her body lurch forward from another impact. 

“Keep holding!” Camelia commanded with utter ferocity. 

As soon as the words were shouted, suddenly--like ghosts returning to the land of the dead--all became silent on the other side of the door. Not one war cry nor the mighty echo of of a gun going off could be heard. It was an eerie silence. Like one that would arrive after somebody took their last breath. Camelia’s mind was rushing fast. She didn’t know if she should’ve been terrified, relieved, or both. 

Slowly one by one, Camelia, the soldiers, councilmen, and ambassadors moved away from the barricade. Each cautiously eyed the tables, shelves, and other items they had used at the last second. Nothing moved, nor gave indication that pressure was coming from the opposing faction. 

“Madam Secretary,” One of the councilmen spoke up. “What should we do now--” 

Boom. 

An explosive barge swung the doors wide open. Pieces of wood and debris splintered off as the barricade had become a chaotic mess. Camelia threw up her arms to shield her face. There was a split second during the commotion where she had the epiphany perhaps this wasn’t the wisest choice. Gods, she envisioned how it would go down: the rebels would crawl through, and she’d meet her end by a sword to the stomach or to the throat. The rebels weren't feeling mercy's justice to put a bullet through her skull, that was certain.

A minute later, when neither came, Camelia cautiously lowered her arms. To her bewilderment, she saw Imperial soldiers running through and securing the area. To her left she watched as the wounded were tended to. To the right, the Imperial ambassadors were preparing for escort. 

“What in the six hells…?” 

“Your valiant heroes have arrived to your aid!” Ardyn exclaimed with his arms gestured out in a grandiose display of dominance. He smirked knowingly at the fact he interrupted Camelia mid thought while he stood where the doors once were. 

“Chancellor!” Camelia exclaimed. 

“At your service as always, Madam Secretary!” He lowered his arms and grimaced while side stepping out of the way of a corpse that was near his feet. “A word of caution, you may want to tip your servicemen handsomely for the clean up later. There's quite a bloodbath to be reckoned with!” 

Camelia glared. “Is this really the time to be meandering, Chancellor?” 

Ardyn looked up and smiled as he made himself at home. “My sincerest apologies! It’s not everyday people in power like ourselves are handling the strife of the common people taking up arms. By the way, you’re quite welcome for the impeccable timing on my part. Your humble adversaries were inches away from tumbling through your little fortress.” 

“You have the gratitude of everyone in this room I’m sure, Chancellor,” Camelia sighed as she began to compose herself. While the immediate danger was more or less purged, she still had her guard up around Ardyn naturally so. For all she knew, he could take advantage of this calamity for his own gains. “After the last attack it was discussed all Imperials and associates were to evacuate Altissa. How did you end up getting caught in the quarrel?” 

“As wise folk once said, plans change.” Ardyn sighed. He glanced around the chambers, making note of the damages and wounded every so often. After accounting for the necessaries he hummed before responding further. “I couldn’t very well leave my fellow countrymen behind to a gruesome fate! That wouldn’t bear well on my conscience, and I strongly felt running off would’ve soiled the relations we painstakingly built with the marriage ceremony.” 

“I’d argue your reasoning was beyond reckless,” Camelia was about to issue a counter response, but alas relented. Accusing Ardyn of only serving his best interests wouldn’t help the current situation. Especially not when he validated it himself. 

“In any case,” Camelia began. “It’s good you’re alive and well.” 

Ardyn grinned momentarily, basking at hearing Camelia confess such a beautiful lie. “And likewise to you! Would it be too much trouble to ask at this moment, how history repeated itself today?”

Camelia furrowed her brows. “Beg pardon?” 

“Allow me to rephrase, how did this all come to pass with the same group that attacked earlier this week?" 

“Well,” Camelia rubbed her head while she ruminated. She was finding it difficult to retrace her steps. Her mind still disturbed at how it all transpired so quick that not even her personal attendants could react fast enough. “I was in chamber two officiating the documents you had sent over by phone, and shortly received word there was a brawl happening in the main courtyard. Next thing I knew, my men were commanding a lockdown, and here we are."

Ardyn frowned while he tutted. The disdain on Camelia’s face from his action didn’t go unnoticed as he let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, flicking out pieces of debris and gods knew what else he collected during battle. 

“It seems I have more cards in my hand,” Ardyn mused to himself. He gestured before Camelia could interject. “This little stunt by the anti-imperialists was a staged coup to usurp your powers and that of the councils.”

Camelia’s eyes widened as she felt her blood run cold. She knew he was telling the truth. Even if the rebels hadn't outright stated their intentions, Camelia and everyone in this room felt it. “Are you absolutely certain?" 

“I’d hold my tongue if I were not.” Ardyn admitted. 

“Where did you gather this information?” 

“I eavesdropped of course, while finding a way to reach you!” Ardyn said as if it were painfully obvious, but with a charismatic jive that lessened the blow. “Angered men surprisingly love the art of conversation. I’m sure you can validate my claim after interrogating the survivors who are left. I’d stake my life on it, Madam Secretary.” 

“That explains it then…”

“Hmm?” Ardyn studied Camelia for a time, noting how unsettled she was growing by the second. Whatever clicked into place unnerved her a great deal. Daresay she seemed reluctant to share the revelation that arrived. However, Ardyn knew she wouldn’t be so bold to deny sensitive information that could compromise both parties. Not even if she loathed him. It was a matter of when not if she would say something. 

“There was a group of people who allegedly stormed into the House of the Courts while the brawl was being tended to.” Camelia clarified. 

“A small group?” Ardyn asked. He was quite surprised at how forthcoming she was.

Camelia nodded. “I was reported a headcount between five and eleven unknown bodies before our communication systems were destroyed. They bore red emblems on their shoulders, black uniforms. I don’t think they were part of main show. That's my guess anyhow.”

“Madam Secretary, a word if you’d please!” One of the councilmen called out, garnering Camelia’s attention.

“Excuse me for one moment, Chancellor.” 

Ardyn couldn’t have been more relieved than now to see Camelia venture off, for he felt dread tip toe down his spine. Of course it had to be MedZin. Of course their presence was no mere coincidence the first time nor second, and of course he should’ve been more attentive to the threat.

Ardyn made a fist while mentally begrudging himself. By being so caught up in personal affairs, and considering the anti-imperialist fiasco more or less Camelia’s problem, he neglected to truly consider how dangerous even a small handful of these people were. As Adagium, he had to give credit where it was due: the folk who worked for MedZin were cunning like the very daemons that ran amok in his head, but as a man, his pride was beyond wounded. For a moment, Ardyn felt like he was losing his touch. 

“Chancellor,” Camelia spoke out, snapping Ardyn out of his thoughts. 

“Yes?”

“The bride from our arrangement has been transported to the hospital with her husband, our good Senator Rodrick. They were caught in the crossfire while on their way to their honeymoon.” 

“What’s their respective statuses?” 

“Critical condition for the bride, and minor injuries for the senator.” 

Ardyn briefly recalled spying in on the conversation Y/N had with the bride last night. Mixed feelings churned while the gentle exchange between the two ran through his mind. For the moment, he was at odds with himself before arriving at a decision. 

“I’ll personally see to it that their medical expenses are paid for. You have my word.”

Camelia huffed. “And I assume you wish for something in turn?” 

Ardyn shrugged. “Consider it an act of goodwill, courtesy of the empire.”

“Charity then?” 

“The bride was one of our own,” Ardyn countered. He made a face and muttered. “And to have such tragedy befall on what was supposed to be an enchanting day perhaps tugged at a heartstring.”

“Whatever your reasons, I’m sure the Senator will be most grateful.” Camelia assured. She was about to ask Ardyn how he managed to storm the House of the Courts with so few men, until an Accordo trooper beckoned interruption. 

“A pardon Madam Secretary, Chancellor Izunia--” He was near out of breath and swallowed when Camelia gestured to compose himself. “We just received a piece of vital information concerning how the anti-imperialists bypassed security. The group of men in black who were aiding them have been caught on camera exploiting the clearances.”

Camelia let out a breath, feeling her nerves quake. “They could’ve easily killed us then in one go had they proceeded further.” 

“But they didn’t,” The trooper reassured. “Sources are reporting they made retreat soon as they cracked our defenses, and let the anti-imperialists through. Apparently, we weren’t their target.”

Ardyn remained composed, however, inside he was falling apart at the seams. The word target repeated over and over until the very shell of his right ear twitched from aggravation. Like a bell going off, he realized the target had been either Y/N or himself. Before his concern for Y/N grew any further, a dull ache started to coil in his chest. It slithered like a serpent, and with each touch of its scales, burned all that lay upon its path. His right hand trembled as he brought it to his chest, all the while attempting to keep up appearances. 

“Chancellor Izunia?” 

“I’m alright,” Ardyn lied. He turned his back to Camelia and the trooper. “It must be a minor wound I sustained.” 

While he tried to soothe himself, Ardyn looked up. From afar outside the doors, he saw Loqui accompanying one of the battalion captains. He excused himself rather quick, and approached the men. Before the captain or Loqui could conduct pleasantry, Ardyn gestured for them to withhold as his eyes bore into the younger man. 

“Did you to tend to Y/N? Did you see them?”

“Yeah, I did.” Loqui nodded. He worriedly glanced over Ardyn, noticing his brow was sweating. “Chancellor, are you okay?”

“Never mind that,” Ardyn replied firmly. “Is Y/N on an airship as we speak?" 

“Y/N and Tuti went to the ports together,” Loqui began. He felt so nervous suddenly that he almost stumbled on his words. “The hotel, everything was on fire. We had been attacked. We evacuated everybody that we could to--”

“Attacked?” Ardyn interrupted. “What do you mean the hotel was attacked?” 

“This morning,” Loqui stated. “It was attacked shortly after word spread about what was happening at the House of the Courts. As soon as Tuti and I found Y/N, I had them follow the evacuation caravan to the ports.” 

“And knowing all this, you saw fit to leave them both to fate?!” Ardyn yelled. 

“They were in no danger!”  

“How would you know that, you aren’t with them?!” 

“Sir, Tummelt was summoned to join the battalion as soon as everybody had been evacuated from the lodging--”

Ardyn held up a finger to the captain. “Not another word!” 

“Yes sir, er--sorry sir!” 

Ardyn felt his patience running thin, as a deep rage that didn’t belong to himself began to manifest more as the pain increased. The scourge itself was screeching with potent fear. Y/N was in a losing battle with their body, and Ardyn felt each and every stab that came with it. He quickly brushed aside Loqui and the captain, walking fast through one of the main corridors and ignored the sudden pleads of Camelia and the others for him to remain. 

"Chancellor!" Loqui shouted as he sprinted after after him. "If I didn't think for one moment Y/N was capable of making it to the airships, I would've gladly abandoned my post and--!"

“Shut up!” Ardyn yelled as he turned his head to the side. He didn't bother to address the shocked faces left behind from his outburst. All he could focus on was this profound sense of anguish that called out to him like a siren luring a man to his fate at the bottom of the sea. He couldn't resist the melancholic sound even if he tried. Not when he knew, no--not when he felt that Y/N was slipping away. Little by little, he could feel it. Their consciousness being consumed by the miasma that highjacked their body for it's own devices; a fate worse than death. He felt the grips of a panic attack breach his defenses as he sprinted without pause. 

Y/N was becoming one with the daemonic hivemind, and he was running out of time. 

[thevibraniumveterans]

REBELS REWATCH

S1E13 — CALL TO ACTION

It is evening. Ezra and Kanan are each on speeder bikes, out in Lothal’s expansive countryside, Ezra looks over to Kanan, and asks, “Aren’t we headed the wrong way?” Kanan instructs the teenager, “Don’t want to lead ‘em back to the ship. Follow me.” Ezra agrees, and looks behind him for a second, where Sabine is operating a stolen hover bike nearby. She momentarily splits away from Ezra and Kanan, intent on leading her pursuers away from her crew. She loses the Imperials on her tail, both crashing into walls she avoids with ease. Ezra follows Kanan as instructed, even as they are being shot at by the Imperial troopers chasing them. Sabine races out from an alleyway perpendicular to the main road that Ezra and Kanan are speeding down. Dodging blaster fire, they bank right and make their escape.

Moments later, it is revealed the trio have placed themselves on a high platform overlooking the street below. Ezra takes aim with his blaster/saber combo, and lets loose a single electric stun bolt, disabling the trooper tailing them on foot. He casually tells Kanan, “Told you that would work.” From behind him, Sabine puts a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, and offers him a congratulatory, “You’re finally getting the hang of this. There’s hope for you yet.” Ezra grins, and jumps down after her.

Sabine, Ezra, and Kanan make their way back to the Ghost, where Sabine brakes, and pushes her hover bike up the ramp. Kanan brings his bike to a rest, and Ezra skids his bike to a stop next to Kanan.

Back in the Ghost, the trio make their way into the main hold, where a broadcast plays. The grin immediately leaves Ezra’s face. The broadcast tells of Trayvis’ allegiance to the Empire. The broadcast switches to a shot of the Spectres, whom Trayvis labels as “insurgents” and more or less wanted criminals. Nearby, Sabine and Kanan stand watch. Sabine, like the others, have a frown on her face, disappointed by how easily they’d all been duped. Ezra is understandably upset: “Every time we win, we lose.” Kanan reassures him: “Well, I have a plan that might just even the score. If Trayvis can do it, we can do it too.” Zeb isn’t too sure about this, and asks, “What, we’re gonna send out some kind of inspirational type messages?” Kanan and Hera agrees, but Sabine and Ezra are confused. Ezra says, “Yeah, Kanan. What are you thinking? We can’t just send a signal. The Empire would track it in half a second.” However, Kanan tells him, “Not if the signal comes from one of its own towers.” Ezra takes a second to figure this out, something Kanan hopes Ezra would catch onto. Sabine catches on first and snaps her fingers. “Now I get it,” she says. Ezra, however, is incredulous: “You want to take control of an Imperial communications tower, which is pretty much impossible, and then you want to use it to send a message to the people of Lothal?” Kanan remains cryptic: “not just Lothal. One of those big towers can reach a few big systems.” Ezra thinks “that’s a crazy plan”, but Kanan notes, “That’s why you like it.” Sabine grins. Ezra turns around and wonders, “And what would we say in this message?” Kanan proposes they tell the truth, saying, “We have to let people know what it’s really like out here.” Sabine nods in agreement. Kanan asks, “Now, are you in?” Ezra says that yes, he is.

The next morning, Sabine, Ezra, and Kanan lie atop an overpass, out off sight. Kanan points out the obvious: “There it is. The Empire’s main communications tower on Lothal.” It stands at the end of a two-lane highway. Ezra is silent, contemplating. Kanan continues: “It routes comm from every Imperial operation on the planet, including the Empire’s HoloNet broadcasts.” Sabine sits up, and lowers her rangefinder, and reports: “I’ve got bucketheads on the perimeter, and at least three anti-ship batteries around the base. Not an easy trip to the front door.” Kanan offers her advice: “Don’t underestimate yourself.” Ezra agrees: “Sabine, lets be optimistic. Say we get to the front door, What then?” Sabine scoffs, then: “I could upload a data spike into the central computer, and have that transmitter operational in, I don’t know, five minutes?” Ezra says, “I said, be optimistic.” Sabine tells him, “Five minutes is optimistic.” Kanan thinks three minutes might be what Sabine should be aiming for, but she disagrees, prioritizing getting the job well done instead of with haste. Kanan understands this rebuttal, and instructs her to “scan us a holomap and lets get out of here.”

Unfortunately for them, an Imperial probe droid makes itself known. Kanan notices it, and Sabine points it out. Ezra asks if the droid has seen them yet, and Sabine says, “Not yet.” Ezra wonders how she knows this, and she tells him, “Because we’re not dead.” Obviously. As the probe droid continues on its way, the trio duck as far as their elevated positions would allow. The droid passes under the overpass, and, matching its movements, Ezra, Kanan, and Sabine head to the other side of the overhead. Ezra wonders where the bikes are, and Kanan notes that those are “next to the road”. Ezra points out that the bikes are “right where that thing will see them.” The shot reveals said bikes by the road; the green and white one that Kanan uses and that both Sabine and Ezra were checking out two episodes ago, the blue and grey hover bike Sabine was riding earlier, and the orange and green one belonging to Ezra.

Up on the flyover, Sabine says, “Hope somebody’s got an idea, or this whole plan is shot.” Kanan and Sabine notice the following silence, then turn to Ezra, who has closed his eyes and an arm stretched out in concentration, attempting to connect with the local fauna. In the long grasses, a Loth-cat stirs, then uses the bike as a springboard to leap at the probe droid. Note that Ezra is telepathically instructing the creature to mess with the droid, which spins out of control and crashes. The Loth-cat hisses, and leaves. Droid downed, the trio stand up. Surprised, Sabine crosses her arms, and notes, “I could have blasted it and gotten that result.” Fair point, “but then the Empire would suspect something was up,” says Ezra. Kanan approves: “Good thinking, Padawan.” Sabine admits, “Okay. It’s touching when you two bond, but I’m betting that probe has friends, so lets move it.” They slide down the archway, run to their bikes, and speed off, unaware that the droid is recording their escape.

Back on the Ghost, Ezra tinkers with what looks like the old transmitter that used to belong to his parents, while Sabine prepares a data spike. Hera, Zeb, and Chopper keep watch. Ezra says, “If it works, we should be able to use this—” He taps the side of the old machine. “—to transmit directly through the tower.” Kanan walks in and wonders how things are progressing, and Sabine, putting the final touches on the data spike she was referring to earlier, taps the resident droid and says, “Well, Chopper has the spike.” She gives Chopper the spike for safe keeping, then continues, “We get him into the tower and he can upload it right into the computer core from any terminal.” She crosses her arms, proud of her plan. Chopper doesn’t like this plan, but Zeb thinks Chopper will have it easy. Kanan wonders what the spike’s range is. Sabine, evidently knowledgeable about electrical transmission systems in a way no other 15-year-old would know, says, “As long as the tower is transmitting, we’re good to go. Everyone will hear what we say. Well, anyone who’s listening.” Aware of the dangers this presents, her voice drops on that last sentence, and she looks off to the side. Having been watching Sabine when she was talking, Ezra looks back at the machine, and presses a few buttons. Kanan and Hera confirm that she would pick the crew up once the spike has done its job. Sabine injects a little sarcasm into her comment: “And things always go according to plan, right?” Knowing full well they don’t. Interestingly enough, Ezra frowns, and agrees: “She’s right about that.” Kanan, thinking this odd, asks Ezra: “What’s with you?” The teenager brushes him off, so Kanan suggests they “take a walk” to hash out some issues. Sabine, puzzled, watches Ezra leave the room. Hera and Kanan shrug.

Ezra stands at the entrance of the Ghost’s loading ramp, arms crossed, lost in thought. He exhales defeatedly, and Kanan asks, “What’s on your mind?” (It’s also an important moment that tells the audience of Ezra’s willingness to open up about his thoughts, something he took to heart a few episodes back.) Ezra says, “I’m not sure we should go through with this.” Kanan knows otherwise, because why else would Ezra have followed through with the earlier stages of this mission? Ezra, however, tells Kanan: “I know that’s what you want to think, but look. As much as I wish I was like my parents, I’m not.” (For reference, his parents were brave enough to openly speak out against the Empire, rallying people to their cause) Ezra, downtrodden, turns away to face the horizon again. Kanan knows Ezra is hiding something, so Ezra has to confront his past, even though he’s clearly unhappy. Guilt-ridden, Ezra admits, “My parents spoke out and I lost them, and I don’t…” He’s frustrated. “…I don’t want to lose you guys, okay? Not over this.” Kanan tries to sympathize by saying “All of us have lost things.” He warns, “And we will take more losses before this is over. But we can’t let that stop us from taking risks. We have to move forward.” Ezra looks away again. Kanan continues, “And when the time comes, we have to be ready to sacrifice for something bigger.” Acknowledging the sheer weight of that statement, Ezra furrows his brows, and says, “That sounds good, but it’s not so easy.” Kanan says it wasn’t easy for him either, and that he didn’t truly understand it until he tries to teach it to Ezra. The teenager in question looks up, and nods.

Night falls. Sabine races down the highway to the comm tower, a large canister of rhydonium in tow. She expertly dodges heavy fire, swerves, and uses the speed of her hover bike to jump into a running start. She intentionally allows the hoverbike and its cargo to crash into a turbo laser battery and explode. Tumbling forward and blasters out, she downs two troopers in quick succession. (The skill needed to carry out such a series of maneuvers is pretty high,) Zeb helps her take out another battery, and just as the chaos begins to die down, Ezra and Kanan arrive on their speeder bikes, with Chopper in tow. Having sighted Sabine upon arrival at the scene, they skid to a halt in front of her, and dismount. Sabine looks up at the tower, then watches as the trio approach. Raising her blasters back up, she leads the way into the tower, followed by Kanan. Behind him, Ezra unclips his saber/blaster combo from his belt, and cautiously scans for any further threats.

Inside, Sabine shoots two troopers in their chests, killing them. Of course. Kanan rushes inside, vaults the control panel, and tells Sabine she has only three minutes to carry out her task. She instructs Chopper to “install the spike”. Kanan is alerted to Imperial presence; Sabine, alarmed, gets to her feet. Once Kanan goes outside to deal with the issue, Sabine runs in the opposite direction, and into the space Kanan just left. The spike plugs in. Outside, Ezra holds up his saber/blaster combo, and says “Time’s up,” as Kanan joins him. TIEs and Imperial transports are on their way.

Kanan comms Sabine: “We got targets incoming. Let’s move!” At that, Ezra’s expression goes from one of concern to determination. Inside, Sabine notes, “You said I’d get three minutes.” Kanan tells her she’s only got one minute, “so hurry up!” Chopper voices displeasure, and Sabine agrees. Close by, Zeb is manning the gun turrets, and Kanan instructs Ezra to “get Zeb”, but Ezra counters: “I’m staying right here.” Kanan overrides Ezra’s disagreement: “No, you’re getting Zeb then coming back here. Now go!” Ezra reluctantly turns away, hops on his bike, and speeds away. Kanan tells Hera that plans have changed. Inside, the spike fully uploads, and Chopper removes it. Sabine tells Chopper that she’s “got a signal. It worked. Let’s go.” She runs out, Chopper close behind. Ezra skids his bike near Zeb’s gun turret, and relays Kanan’s orders; Zeb, being Zeb, complains. It isn’t until the turret gets shot that Zeb relents, and Ezra brings him back to Kanan. However, upon their arrival back at the entrance, Sabine steps out, and Kanan warns her, “Not this way. Back inside.” Sabine, incredulous, asks: “Are you crazy?!” Ezra and Zeb dismount the bike, and Kanan instructs them and Sabine to “Take the lift. Hera will meet you at the top.” Ezra asks Kanan, “What about you?” Kanan tells him he’ll take the next lift. Zeb pushes Ezra further into the tower. Kanan, outside, ignites his saber, and reassures Ezra he’ll be right behind him. Though worried, Ezra understands, and nods solemnly. Kanan clicks the door shut.

Ezra, Chopper, Sabine, and Zeb reach the top of the communications tower, and Ezra rushes to the railing: “Where’s Kanan?” Unfortunately for him and and his companions, an LAAT/le patrol gunship makes itself known, with troopers inside shooting at the Spectres. A shot hits the railing, and Ezra dives to the floor. Sabine is momentarily shielded by Zeb, who runs after a second. While Kanan is cornered at ground level, the Spectres (save Hera, incoming on the Phantom) have their hands up, a spotlight shining at them. Sabine is the first to move; grabbing an explosive off her utility belt, she lobs it at the gunship in front of them. Ezra watches from beside her. The explosive, well, explodes, taking the gunship out with it.

Ezra, looking over the railing, spots Kanan get cornered by the Inquisitor down at ground level, and starts panicking. Lucky for him, Sabine, Chopper, and Zeb, Hera swings by with the Phantom. The Spectres, save Ezra, board the Phantom. The Imperials are shooting at the Phantom from below, and Ezra is the last to board it. Kanan orders Hera to “get out of here”, but Hera refuses. Ezra makes his way to pilot’s seat beside Hera, bypassing Sabine. She allows this. Kanan insists there is “No time! Go!” Ezra is adamant that “We can’t!” Nevertheless, Kanan insists that Hera get the Spectres away from the Tower. She closes the Phantom’s bay door before Ezra can have second thoughts.

The next morning, the Inquisitor presents Tarkin with Kanan, whose fellow Spectres are revealed to have “gained control of the tower’s transmitter.” From inside the Ghost, Ezra remotely broadcasts the following message: “We have been called criminals, but we are not. We are rebels, fighting for the people, fighting for you.” Sabine sits next to him on the lounge seat. He continues, “I’m not that old, but I remember a time when things were better on Lothal. Maybe not great, but never like this.” The message is broadcast far and wide. The messages goes on, “See what the Empire has done to your lives, your families and your freedom? It’s only gonna get worse, unless we stand up and fight back. It won’t be easy. There will be loss and sacrifice. But we can’t back down just because we’re afraid. That’s when we need to stand the tallest. That’s what my parents taught me. That’s what my new family helped me remember. Stand up together. Because that’s when we’re the strongest, as one.”

The tower collapses in flames. On board the Ghost, Ezra finishes the broadcast, only to hear garbled static. Sabine looks up from the transmitter at Ezra. He too, looks at her, but addresses the Spectres and asks, “Was it worth it?” He turns to Hera. “You think anybody heard?” Hera thinks so. Ezra notes, “This isn’t over.” Hera agrees. Sabine shifts her line of sight from Hera to Ezra, who looks away.

[a-master-procrastinator]

Which of your SWTOR Companions are NOT with the Alliance?

I was inspired by this post by @swtorpadawan.

It's a good question, and it got me thinking (slowly, as always). For now, I've come up with fates of companions in Lette Legacy (Jett as the Outlander), and will work on others later.

Warning - Mentions of established character deaths below. And lots of spoilers for KotFE and everything after it.

In my headcanon the events of KotFE and onwards are different from in-game version, which impacts the fate of some companions. The most relevant differences are the fates of class characters (Bounty Hunter, Jedi Consular, Smuggler and Agent are in the Alliance; Jedi Knight, Sith Warrior, Sith Inquisitor and Trooper are not with the Alliance for different reasons) and the fact that the Alliance does not participate in the renewed war between the Republic and Sith Empire, choosing to stay neutral.

Also, the state of companions changes with time, so this is for the time around the events of 7.0 in SWTOR.

Jedi Knight crew:

Fideltin Rusk - continues his military service in the Republic.

Doc - after Ossus stays to help the Jedi in the renewed war.

Jedi Consular crew:

Zenith - continues anti-Imperial activities.

Tharan Cedrax - survives the Imperial attack on Meridian Complex and continues to work for the Republic.

Nadia Grell - after Ossus stays with the Jedi.

Trooper crew:

Elara Dorne - continues her military service in the Republic as a part of the Havoc Squad, takes Jorgan's place as second in command after he joined the Alliance.

M1-4X - stays with the Republic as part of the Havoc Squad.

Tanno Vik - does whatever he was doing in chapter 6.

Sith Warrior crew:

Malavai Quinn - stays with the Empire as one of Acina's officers.

Major Pierce - continues his military service in the Empire.

Jaesa Wilsaam - disappears after Emperor's Wrath's death, current whereabouts unknown.

Broonmark - killed while trying to assassinate a Wookiee senator on Alderaan.

Vette - killed by Vaylin on Odessen.

Sith Inquisitor crew:

Khem Val, Andronikos Revel, Talos Drellik and Xalek - all stay in the Sith Empire and work for Darth Nox.

Ashara Zavros - killed by apprentices of Darth Nox.

Bounty Hunter crew:

Skadge - just does his thing, if nobody shot him yet. (I don't even count him as companion, but since he is a companion in the game, I guess I had to add him). Jett never met him again after dropping him somewhere shortly after Belsavis.

Imperial Agent crew:

Vector Hyllus - continues his duties as Dawn Herald.

SCORPIO - merged with Iokath.

Kaliyo - dropped out of the Alliance after Vaylin is dealt with. I just don't think she would stick for much of what comes next.

So 22 out of 40 companions from class stories are not with the Alliance (obviously Kaliyo, SCORPIO and Vette were a part of the Alliance).

Honorable mention: Raina Temple - officially is not with the Alliance, but working with them to maintain communication between the Alliance and the Chiss Ascendancy.

[heroineimages]

Love when someone else does the leg-work in Hero Forge. For our Star Wars campaign at the library, the kids are playing as Rebel troopers defending an anti-air installation from Imperial troops, and I needed mounted biker-scouts. So I searched for speeder bikes on the Community page and found one of Leia on a speeder bike with what feels like a pretty passable bike design to me. So I swapped Leia out with a scout-trooper, and I thought it turned out pretty okay. I made a few tweaks to the design, and I may tweak it a little more if I have time.

Link: https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D40357630/

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: The Bad Batch: “The Outpost” - Review

A wrenching, stripped down episode of The Bad Batch is a series high water mark and may be one of the best episodes of Star Wars animation put to screen.

Back in field duty, Crosshair is dispatched alongside an Imperial lieutenant and a small squad of clones to assist in the protection of a valuable cargo outpost on a desolate, icy world. There he meets the few surviving clones lead by Commander Mayday, who have been slowly broken down by a stealthy onslaught of raiders.

Crosshair continues to be the most fascinating character in The Bad Batch’s larger ensemble. A clone anti-hero who willingly chooses the Empire’s fascist rule due to his own value for systems, structure, and order, Crosshair represents a different perspective to the clone army. He is aware of the extent of the Empire’s manipulation, but chooses it anyways, seeing it as the ideal path forward.

“The Outpost” rightfully asks the question, what would it take to break that loyalty? For a clone that could not be won over by his closest brothers or the morality of other clones he respects, what is it that could finally make Crosshair doubt his trust in the Imperial system? Writers Jennifer Corbett and Matt Michnovetz intelligently assert that it is the full exposure of the Empire’s hypocrisy, the pure contempt that it holds for Crosshair and the people like him.

When Crosshair arrives on this unnamed, icy world he is met by Commander Mayday, a clone that has been left mostly alone to guard the Imperial supply outpost. Like Crosshair, Mayday is a clone that values orders. As desperate as his team got, he never bothered to crack open the crates and crates of cargo piled up within the outpost walls. He never abandoned his post despite how hopeless his situation might seem. Mayday does all of this while still showing empathy for his brothers, striking the tough balance of duty and loyalty that only just held together under the Republic.

Corbett and Michnovetz slowly build Crosshair’s respect for Mayday through quiet moments of shared perspective or a particularly tense and surprisingly intimate sequence where Mayday helps disarm a trip mine that he has stepped upon. As much as Crosshair may be skeptical of regs, he has always valued skill and a willingness to perform. He sees in Mayday not just a compassionate and valuable clone trooper but one that holds a perspective not far off from his own.

And while the trope of forcing two soldiers to fight their way across a dangerous environment isn’t exactly new, “The Outpost” finds a new perspective for this narrative. This isn’t the story of two men learning to respect one another, this is a man who has time and time again chosen self preservation and the perpetuation of fascism finally making the choice to fight for another’s survival.

Dee Bradley Baker’‘s work in this series is dependably stunning, but “The Outpost” is a particular standout. So much of “The Outpost” consists of the quiet moments of bonding between two conflicted men and their desperate attempts to survive a hostile world. The voice performances for Mayday and Crosshair are equally superb and a true achievement when you once again remember that this is all the work of a single performer.

Directors Saul Ruiz and Nathaniel Villanueva also must be commended for the visual language that they craft in this chapter. Even before we arrive on the frozen planet that becomes “The Outpost’s” primary setting, both directors establish a feeling of isolation and sterility. With pulled back shots of stark landscapes and minimalist sound design often dominated by an eerie Blade Runner-esque score from the Kiner Bros, “The Outpost” is the rare episode of Star Wars television that feels like it has absolute, intentional creative synergy in its production. 

And it makes “The Outpost’s” final few scenes all the more devastating. Mayday passes just as the two arrive back at their station, due in no small part to Imperial leadership’s refusal to expend the medical resources it hoards. For the first time it all dawns on Crosshair. At the end of the day, loyalty to the Empire doesn’t matter. Being a good soldier and following the orders of their superiors doesn’t amount to basic human respect. They will only ever be tools for a machine that never thinks of them, not even bothering to acknowledge their pain and sacrifice. Mayday’s death devastates, not just because he was a good man who has passed, but because in Crosshair’s worldview he did everything he was supposed to. And the Empire couldn’t be bothered to give him anything in return. It’s undeniably cathartic to finally give Crosshair a violent moment of rebellion, but it sends him into even more uncharted territory. He wakes up under an operating table on Mount Tantiss and is assured by Dr. Emerie Karr that if he simply does what he is told that he will survive. And, maybe for the first time in his entire life, Crosshair knows that this is a lie.

Score: A+