Keeper of Kraata

IC (Raltz Nightwing, B-Wing Crash Site): The stormtroopers, regardless of their division reacted as well as they could to a sudden attack. Several were struck by the initial volley, either by the bolts themselves or knocked down by resulting blasts. Raltz himself was struck by the slugthrower, the slugs ricocheting off his durasteel armor. Raltz's training had already kicked in, though, as he activated a smoke grenade and dropped it at his feet. "Cover! Now!" he growled into his comm unit, currently filled with trooper chatter. He himself leveled his repeater and fired a suppressive volley as he advanced, hoping to draw fire to himself and away from his more lightly-armored compatriots.

IC (Raltz Nightwing, B-Wing Crash Site): The Darktrooper's gaze lingered on the Arkada. "Their combat effectiveness was not my concern, Lieutenant." Raltz moments later strode out of the transport, barking orders. "Alright, comb this junkyard, I want that B-Wing found!"

IC (Raltz Nightwing, B-Wing Crash Site): The flight had been almost entirely in silence. As the stormtroopers filed off the shuttle, DT-204 stepped between the exit and Lt. Arkada. "Lieutenant," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, "I question your methods only because I feel they compromise the effectiveness and ability of those under your command. If your detachment cannot perform their duties, their morale is of no meaning."

IC: Hearing the commotion, Fyura perked up. She had almost finished draining one of the lesser villains in the Koro in an alley, so she had nothing else to do. Tossing her unconscious victim to the ground, she picked up her axe and strode out into the street. She joined the growing circle around Eisen and a Ta-Toa she didn't recognize. Spotting her 'sponsor' within the Legacy, Maeloc, she sidled up as best as she could. "Zo, vhat's up?" Fyura snickered. "Pahblik eckzecueshun?" The Legacy archivist barely gave the parakuka-bonded skakdi a glance. "Oreius Maru. He threatened to firebomb the Citadel for the hostages we are keeping. Eisen bargained it down to a duel, one-on-one." The Fe-Skakdi grunted as she picked her teeth. Another glance from Maeloc revealed that she wasn't idly paying attention, but was focusing intensely on the two combatants. The Archivist couldn't tell if it was the martial analysis of a seasoned warrior, or the hungry gaze of a predator. "Well, whatever happens, we are not to interfere. I didn't have time to slip him one of the Amulets, and as for you, you are to prevent any overeager interlopers. Is that clear?" "Ah-hah." IC: Cyrix's mask may have rendered himself silent, but he could still hear the calls from the street below. From his recon over the island, he knew of both combatants. Unless this was some insane grudge match, the Le-Toa knew what, or rather who, the only stakes could be. Muttering several curses to himself, he got up, and performed an air-assisted leap over to the next building. He got as close as he dared; people were probably watching for trickery, of which his Mask of Stealth fell under. He might be detected. Settling in to a position, he again donned his goggles, adjusting the lenses to witness the fight. Hundreds of contingencies were running through his mind, very few of them good. I'm rooting for you, red guy. Stakes are too high for me not to.

The issue is that it's just an NPC you made up, as opposed to an actual character submitted and approved. If it were an approved character, there wouldn't be any issues. And no, a Miraluka can tell at a glance if somebody is force-sensitive or not; it's not 'normal sight with a few drawbacks' it is full-blown Force Sight, as good if not better than any Jedi could learn, as a natural ability.

I mean yes, a Miraluka could exist among others, providing they hid their... eyelessness. Generally through a fake prosthetic. The issue is that there are certain implications a Miraluka brings up, and it's just an NPC in this case. And, as for Raltz's and Arkadia's argument, that... Isn't true. At all. Clones were CONDITIONED. Heavily conditioned, but not technically programmed, except in cases like the Order 66 chips. And they were only executed if they committed a crime, such as desertion; clone troopers not able to fight were generally retired to manual labor jobs, or unceremoniously discharged. Raltz's argument was that the clones, when humanized, gave way to PTSD-ridden wrecks that became unfit for duty. Not the best argument, but it's flaws aren't in their use. Also, Raltz FOUGHT in the Clone Wars. Normally I wouldn't sweat it, since it's a background element that Mia couldn't immediately, know, but he just said he fought for the empire for 28 years. It's only been around for what, 23?

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost): DT-204's face was inscrutable beneath his helmet. He paused for a moment, before making his way for the landing pad. "Treating troopers like people turned out so well for the clones, don't you think?" the Darktrooper hissed as he passed the officer. As stormtroopers piled into the troop transport, DT-204 did not sit, only holding a handhold. "Pilot, we have those coordinates?" "Yes sir. The trip shouldn't be long." "Good."

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost): "Lieutenant, please address me properly. I fought for this Empire for twenty-eight years. There are very few people alive that I am on a first-name basis with." Raltz stood still and straight as the final piece of his armor, the grimacing helmet, was lowered onto his face, pressurizing with a hiss. He spoke again, this time his voice lowered and with a distinct mechanical tinge. "Protocol states that I am to be referred to by my rank or my operating number, DT-204. You're an officer, you should know this, Lieutenant. Ma'am." The trooper, now fully clad in his gray durasteel exo-armor, took his repeater off the armory rack and marched toward the exit. The local stormtroopers seemed to be put back; Raltz knew that none of them had seen a Darktrooper, and none were likely to see one ever again. "Move out!"

IC: This was sounding more and more splendid. Casanuva cocked his head as he spoke: "We travel pretty light, so we should be able to move out as soon as you all are ready." Zueya was crossing her arms. "Good call by your Commodore. Aelied and I were just there... its not exactly a nice place. A skakdi tried to rough us up. Someone else beheaded him."

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost): Despite an officer that outranked all present, none of the Inquisitorius stormtroopers saluted when the Lieutenant entered the armory. All were either checking weapons or donning their matte-black individualized armor. The Sergeant himself was in front of the armory unit, his Darktrooper armor being fitted to him by automatic systems. "I'm not authorized to answer that question, Lieutenant." His scarred face showed no sign of being perturbed. "There was a B-Wing crash recently. We are taking a ship there, where we will search the area for information on its pilot, and then destroy what's left of the fighter. That's all both of us need to know for now."

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost): As soon as his commlink chirped, it was in Raltz's hand. He listened to his orders closely. "Yes sir. I'll be over there right away." It may not be exciting, but it was important. "Lieutenant," he said, "prep your troopers. I'm taking a transport out to a crash site and I need manpower." Not waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the barracks, shouldering his way through the door. His men were in various stages of relaxing. He pointed at one, the pilot. "Prep the transport, we're heading to the B-Wing crash site. Pull the location from the sensor logs here." He didn't pay attention to the salute snapped back at him. As he walked towards the mobile armory unit, he tossed his cap on an unoccupied bunk and started peeling off his jacket. Tapping a six-digit keycode into the security pad, Raltz stood back. Time to get suited up.

Rename the gangs?

4000 years ago, the Minoan kingdom on Crete was starting up. If you can come up with a street gang or equivalent from them, I'll give this to you.

I notice you keep mentioning the Hidden Beks and Vulkars gangs. If you remember, Taris was bombarded by Malak. There were of course survivors, but the two gangs were practically at ground zero. They, and the Exchange for that matter, are literally ancient history (4000+ years).

IC: Instead of focusing on Silo, Skorm focused entirely on how he would enter the Koro. He concentrated as he flexed his power over gravity, rendering himself weightless. Still hinder guise of his Huna, the Ba-Toa pushed off the ground, propelling him at a moderate pace through the air. Once he reached a suitable height, he shifted the gravity around him slightly, guiding him to an alley. Once landed, Skorm immediately dropped to a knee, deactivating his Huna. This was it. Where he had caused so much pain. Back again, trying to set things right.

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost): Raltz's face fouled. "Have you been having discipline problems?" IC (Vanndred, The Stray Tach): The Chistori set down the kebab he was working on and took a slurp from his drink, leaning back. "You do tech work, right? I'm a bit low on credits now, but I think I'm gonna have to break out my old armor soon. Been a while since I used it, and some of the systems are kinda... not working. Was wondering if I could get an estimate for what a repair would be."

IC: The smirk remained on Casanuva's face as he grabbed Soraph's hand. "Everything? Well. It'll be difficult, but I might be able to help with that." Some forced-sounding coughing interrupted the dialogue before he could continue. "So," Zueya said, "Who else is coming with us?"

IC: Skorm's mouth twigged as he activated his Huna. He was being sarcastic, but sure, this could actually work. It's not like he was trying to kill somebody this time. Seeing him with a friendly face could make initial contact... easier. Though if Kalyss and Vakua were still there, they would have to be accounted for. Vakua could even avert most of this whole cloak-and-dagger thing. Overall, he felt confidant. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'll follow your lead."

We don't, with the notable exception of the Dasaka. In the BZPRPG, any matoran of any element may be any gender. It has been implied that while the different types of matoran are weighted toward one or the other, there's enough... 'mixing' to offset those. Dasaka, on the other hand, our equivalent (read: pretty much exactly the same but with different culture and power classifications) of Ce-Matoran have a strict 40:1 ratio, weighted towards female. Also, there were male vortixx in canon. They were just... oppressed.

OOC: Actually, just Zueya is there with him. IC: The blue-clad Fa-Toa's smile turned into a smirk. Behind this exterior, however, he felt relieved. At least he had accomplished something with this trip. Much more than he had anticipated, anyway. Shoving this in Kalyss's face would be fun. "Well, I'd prefer you let me down easy. What's the good news?"

IC: "I mean, I could follow you in under guise of my Huna. And hope nobody senses my presence. In the one Koro guaranteed to be searching for me."

IC: The Ba-Toa considered Silo's words, a scowl on his mask. "Yeah, well, you can't fix the past." Skorm leaned on an overhanging tree trunk; ahead was Ga-Koro. He could see the gates in the distance, still vividly remember his frenzied escape. "So," he said, distracting himself deliberately before he brought up more bad memories, "What's the plan? You go in and find him, bring him back out here to talk?" IC: "Well, the sub is obviously engine-powered. I mean, look at the shape!" Zueya said, gesturing as if running her hand along the Dasaka vessel's smooth crystal surface. "None of them have power over water, so unless there are treadmills and hand cranks we're not seeing, there's an engine in there." Casanuva shifted his feet. "Hmm. Well, they mentioned metal being rare in their homeland. I guess most of everything they dig up would go into making conductive materials. Unless they have something else conductive." The Vo-Toa shifted footing in an exaggerated manner, putting her hand to her chin in a mocking scholar's pose. "Are you saying they might have some sort of... conductive crystal?" Zueya smiled slightly; the inner electromagneticist in Casanuva would be going crazy. The Fa-Toa groaned. "That... makes no sense. Unless it was innately electrified, or somethi-... No. That makes no sense. I'm sticking with that." "It does mean something, though. They know about electricity. A fair bit more than some of the locals, I imagine." Now she sounded like Aelied. Casanuva wondered, what had happened in Ko-Wahi? Zueya didn't really want to talk about it, and Aelied had remained cryptic. All he knew were that they had spent an extended time in the region, and had met one of the Maru, who had teleported them out. Well, he guessed he would find out soon enough. "Doubtful. I've seen some of the stuff the locals have. There may only be villages, but there's some very interesting tech here, and I'm not talking about the imported stuff." The two Toa Kalta's conversation was cut short by the top hatch of the submarine opening, and Casanuva's expected visitor getting out. He beamed a smile and waved. "Good morning!"

You missed the kerfluffle with the ex-bounty hunter and the rogue novatrooper.

IC (Raltz Nightwing, Taris Imperial Outpost): "I wasn't finished, Lieutenant." Raltz slipped the commlink into his coat pocket. "I haven't read the reports for Taris, not entirely. I'm aware that rebel activity is low, and crime is high, but I'm not entirely up to date." He had heard of the traitor Novatrooper; he had personally met several of the moffs almost killed in the threat. He would not turn down the chance to dispense Imperial justice to the traitor, Inquisitorius-style. He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck, where his cortical implant was exposed. He quickly placed his hands behind his back. Lieutenant Arkada technically did outrank him. Only technically, though; by her age, he might have been already fighting for the Republic before she was born. "If I may, Lieutenant, would it be possible for my men and I to receive a briefing on the fugitive? She may prove a threat to our mission. As well, if the opportunity presents itself, we would relish the chance to bring this traitor to justice." IC (Vanndred, The Stray Tach): The Chistori tore the last piece of meat off one of his kebabs. His eyes picked up Jenth; he had seen her before, exchanged a few words. A technician, he had heard. His armor had been sitting in his closet for over a year now, most of its gadgets and systems inoperable. The job climate didn't favor entirely legal ways of accruing credits fast currently; he might need to break out his old bounty hunter gear. It would take some outlaw tech work to get everything working again, and it wouldn't be cheap, but it never hurt to get an estimate. "Hey Jenth! I have some business questions for you."