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20 -August -2017 - 07:59
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This is the place to post stories you have written about your character's timeskip. What they got up to in the five years between the fall of the Gav Daragon and the rise of the Empress Teta.

TOPIC: [Timeskip] Wilson, Jaxar

[Timeskip] Wilson, Jaxar 1 year 4 months ago #15610

  • Jaxar Wilson
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  • Corporal
  • Posts: 430
  • Thank you received: 229
  • Karma: 6
Prologue



Time: +3 Months After Zakuul Invasion.
RSS Gav Daragon, Deck Six.

RETREAT


The whole deck shook, throwing many of the fleeing crew members to the cold, steel flooring of the RSS Gav Daragon. Among them, Corporal Jaxar Wilson. The colossal impact had dazed him, his ears ringing and his vision fuzzy. Wilson had been deployed to Deck Six with several other marines to act as a security element, with the task of ensuring the safe evacuation of crew and staff. He groaned and reached up to take hold of any nearby railing before pulling himself to his feet. Seeing double, he staggered forwards and helped a young deckhand up, pushing him in the direction of the other fleeing evacuees. The sobering sound of thousands upon thousands of tonnes of moaning metal ensued, as the Gav Daragon almost swayed in the skies. Wilson’s vision cleared.
"Get up! Move! Go, go, go!” His words were almost inaudible above the blaring sirens and panicked screams of the ship’s crew. Across from him were three other marines, doing exactly as Jaxar was. Their intimidating white plates and ugly black assault rifles did little in the way of establishing order - however, it did protect them from too much harm. The same could not be said for some of the evacuees. One member of the Able Crew lay unconscious - awkwardly propped up against a section of steel railing, with a nasty welt on the right of her forehead. Jaxar turned to one of the three marines opposite him.
“Recruit. Get her to an escape pod, and see to it that someone compresses that injury! Now!” The order came hard and fast; the new blood complying immediately.



Above them, the battle raged on. Constant dull thuds, accompanied by the distant screech of blaster fire resounded throughout the hallway. Flashes of green, orange and red lit up the walls opposite the deck’s thick windows. Deck Six’s main source of light had long since disappeared, the backup generators barely illuminating the very hallway they stood in. Alarm beacons lining the corridor’s girder roofing added to the gloom with their pulsating red light. Finally, the last few stragglers made their way towards the escape pods, and Jaxar turned to his team.
“Bug out!” Three fully armed marines charged down the hallway, expecting an escape pod to be waiting for them. None remained. The three looked at each other and their mutterings determined that today was indeed not a very good day. “Move your asses to Bay Twel-...!” Like a dying whale, the RSS Gav Daragon let loose a low, ear tearing howl as it’s monstrous hull began to tear. “RUN!” Each step took them closer to Bay Twelve, the weight of their gear no longer a factor as the trio literally ran for their lives. Tubing whipped from the walls, hissing air at them and stacked crates and trolleys began to crash down the hall. They came around a corner, soon arriving at the escape pod bay. Fortune was with them. Several escape pods remained untouched. Quickly dashing to the nearest, Jaxar opened the hatch and pushed one of his comrades inside, climbing in after. He turned, watching the final marine as he began to step inside.
“Auugh!” Out of nowhere came the trolley, smashing into the Marine and wrenching what little of him was in the pod down the hallway, immediately shattering his leg on impact. Jaxar yelled after him, peering out to see his smashed, broken body lying in a tangled mess. There was no helping him. Wilson pulled himself back inside the pod - the hatch slamming shut behind him.
Last Edit: 1 year 2 months ago by Jaxar Wilson.
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[Timeskip] Wilson, Jaxar 1 year 3 months ago #15741

  • Jaxar Wilson
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  • Corporal
  • Posts: 430
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Wait for intro...






Time: +3 Months After Zakuul Invasion.
Escape Pod, Departing RSS Gav Daragon.


ENDGAME


Their pod erupted from the side of the ship, it’s propulsion system carrying them away from the carnage in the silence of space. Both marines breathed heavily, their chests heaving behind their armoured form, rifles strewn nowhere in particular as they recovered from their long sprint. For a moment, they thought only of themselves. Of how close they had come. Of what they were to do now.

Their thoughts were halted as the pod was impacted, small knocks hammering against the thick chassis as pieces of heavy debris were smashed aside. Colourful flashes found their way through the pod’s one small window, illuminating the emergency craft with glaring reds and greens. The frame shook the pair as they flew, one turning his soulless visor to the other in a silent stare of acknowledgement before glancing up at the window.
Flash... Black... Flash... Black… Flash… Black.
The escape pod was spinning, and Jaxar frowned. He wanted to see. He needed to see. Fist moving across to a console bland in complexity, his armoured fingers went to work administering commands to stabilise the pod’s oscillating yaw. Outside, tiny jets of propulsion halted them mid roll by pressing against their momentum, whilst the second of them removed his mask to reveal a face laced with exhaustion and depression, thoughts only now going to their fallen brother whom they did not save. But the Corellian Corporal returned his eyes to the window, his stomach sinking.

Behind that visor, his features shrivelled. He had seen horror before. Human horror. The dying, the dead. Several of them by his hand. But horror on this scale? The black slit reflected the scene before him…

...

And the RSS Gav Daragon hung lifelessly in the cosmic chasm, shattered pieces of its carcass ricocheting towards the stars as starfighters pursued and destroyed one another. His lips parted as he stared, eyes wide, but otherwise motionless. Never before had he witnessed destruction on such a scale. The behemoth of war he once called home now lying broken and defeated at the hands of an over-zealous Moff. Cheerfulness in the face of adversity was something he was taught on Corellia. Except now, hopelessness overcame him in involuntary waves of despair. He slammed his fist against the side of the pod, eyes glued to the battle. He tried to call out but any attempt at words was replaced by a throaty croak. Quite literally, speechless. Frustration at being able to do nothing, as those who stand beside you face death without you. A soldier's anger.

And he really could do nothing.
Last Edit: 1 year 2 months ago by Jaxar Wilson.
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