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Im also dead by another thread. So. Yyyyeah

Ah fair enough then. No apologies necessary friend. Yar, them'd be the ones. My understanding of your post was that you'd fired the weapons both in front and behind us, not directly at our position. Regardless, I've made an edit that negates the whole issue of where I'm hiding.

Regarding the profile thing, I already spoke with Arclight about it, long story short that was a mistake and miscommunication my end, so sorry about that. I will be doing a few edits accordingly. As for the post issue, every Imperial cellblock I've ever seen in a movie or tv show has rows of...

Fine, be that way. His eyes widened as the situation escalated. It looked like he'd been right all along. Whether or not that was of any form of comfort to him or not was debatable however, as his reward for guessing correctly and following the two interlopers was having someone hurl rockets in...

OSMF it raining on our parade.

OOC: Not to be that dork, But I'm pretty sure Jakku's still all jungle in this timeline. Just sayin. It was with a sense of pride that Sidrin marched in that parade. The rumble of their passing filled him with perfectly corped pulses, the synchronized strikes of armored boots on durasteel...

Sidrin rolled around the corner as the sounds of a scuffle began to echo up the corridor, and his pace increased. As he dialed in on the situation, he sensed the darkside flowing, the force moving. Something was happening, and his left hand rose, his right moving to meet it, priming the saber...

Sidrin understood. Better than most he knew the atrocities the Imperial administration was willing to commit. He'd been born of them, carried them out, and had risen to his current position because of them. As a child, he'd been given a blaster and told to kill for the Imperium. He'd been told...

I tried that argument with a disgruntled hornet once. It didn't pan out. But hey, my philosophy teacher thought it was a funny enough story to give me bonus credit on an assignment.

Sidrin's neck had begun to squirm not long after the trucks arrived. They had parked in their order of entry, settling on their springs in a cloud of exhaust fumes. The activity around them could best be described as bustling. Shock troopers and grunt laborers began to gather, carrying out...

Sidrin listened carefully, discarding most of the details as he heard them. Regardless of this being sanctioned or not, a mission was a mission. Critical intel had to be separated from the relative dross that oft came with it, like chaff from the wheat. His own loadout was even more simple. A...

The Acolyte moved low, scanning everything ahead of him with his carbine to bear. He knew by now to trust his instincts, as that was often where the force showed its hand, and it seemed that they'd paid off, as he peered round a corner to sight a crashed freighter. He'd been feeling ahead with...

Armor is for sissies Get shot by small bullets to build up immunity to big bullets. Like vaccine. Grunt.

Nothing screams problem like four cups of coffee I'm still ready to nap atop it. I think I have a tolerance built up.

You guessed it. Busy. Work. The conversation had been brief and terse. The acolyte had asked someone if they needed aid with... Something he couldn't even remember, a trivial errand, within earshot of a Sith Marauder. The next thing he knew, he'd been berated, and sent off to do something...

Sidrin paused over top of them as he passed, though he had alredy dismissed them as a threat. They were indeed a better asset to them alive than dead, provided they kept screaming. Psych warfare had not been his strongest method back in the day. Rather he preferred to leave that to the brains...

'Is that a threat or a promise?' Humor aside, there were more pressing matters at hand. He sensed the use of the force clearly, though he had also sensed their impromptu lynching. He chuckled, and moved quickly, crossing the crevasse and assuming cover just a few feet away. He reached out with...

Though he was getting more in touch with the force every day, old habits refused to be broken. You always swept and cleared, having the force just added an extra element. If he died, it would not be with any degree of complacence. He was not yet resigned to oblivion, he would die fighting...

Sidrin, ever the soldier, descended the landing ramp from his own ship with the ever present blaster carbine raised and sighted, sweeping his vectors as always. He didn't acknowledge Mortem initially, saving for a perceptible lowering of his blaster whenever it swept in her direction, taking it...

The Icarus made the trip in reasonable time, a wave of proximity scanners spraying light over the crater as they arrived and the ship circled the site menacingly. A small camp of scavengers scattered, running for speeders and local domesticated animals. The ventral blasters on the Icarus pulsed...