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Cene guided her ship out of Obroa-Skai and set course for Mandalore. If she was to fullfill her plan, she would need to rearm and re-equip. She knew merchants in Kedalbe that could provide her with the weapons and upgrades she was looking for, and a trip "Home" wasnt such a bad idea anyway.

As her ship traversed Hyperspace, Cene sat at her workbench and studied the Ancient Lightsaber she had recovered on Korriban.

The weapon had the hilt connected to an external power pack via a power cable. It used a lot of power to maintain a standard blade length but it chopped just as well as any other lightsaber she had seen. Cene saw possibility in the design: an excellent tool and close in weapon.

She didnt need such a long blade. She could cut the length in half for her needs, saving power and allowing ease of use. The device could also be upgraded with a more modern power system to allow longer periods of use. But such an upgrade would take time and a more complet understanding of the device. It was an ancient system, using ancient components. She risked damaging the device with such an upgrade. etter to play it safe and work it into her equipment as it was.

In the time it took her to get to Mandalore she fiddled, adjusted, and studied, taking notes on the design for later reference as she sought to adapt ancient technology to a more modern use. Her Fireknife was crude compared to the Lightsaber but a look at its components guided her well enough to how the lightsaber functioned. As she worked, she vaguely wondered where the Sith Ghost had gone. He failed to make his presence known after she dispatched Revan's Shield. Cene didnt question his absence though. Good riddence.

Finally after long hours she devised a design: A Bracer mounted Lightsaber. The blade emiter rested on the back of her hand and would project the blade out from her clenched fist, with the working components held back in a specially modified armor bracer. The Power cable was lengthened and ran the length of her arm, through her armor, and down to her belt in a manner borrowed from the method her people mounted flamthrowers.

She slid the gauntlet and bracer onto her right arm and experimentally activated it, flexing her wrist in the manner she would use to eject her wrist Vibroblade.

The Blade shot out in a crackling hiss, the ruby blade humming with power as it projected half a meter from her frist.
"Kandosii." She muttered, admiring her handiwork.

Calliga finished his escape from the cloth wrappings by means of a shrug, and turned to siren one more time. "Nice job. You can...rest...for a moment-you'll need it..." Calliga said in suggestive tone. Teasing the twi'lek a bit more he spoke a few more words.
"And siren-you don't find my gifts to you good? I said I brought you two female prisoners for you to personally discipline. I thought you'd like that-And you're some much more fun when you're happy..." He half-joked. It was true, more or less....'course, He'd have to test the theory shortly, but he was looking forwards to that.
With that question, he returned his attentions to the Twi'lek and proceeded to help her disrobe:
"That outfit looks kind of...stiff. Let me help you with that..."
Calliga then shifted, pinning the Twi'lek like he had before, agaist the wall-only this time it was flat agiast the bed, instead. Calliga regarded her for a moment with a smirk, then granted her desire of "begging him to go further"-a wish her expression conveyed.
Calliga kissed her again, as he was getting a "bad" habit of, and took her somewhat agressively; having his way with siren's blue-skinned attendant...rather passionately.
And that was only a warm up.

That dangerous smirk returned as calliga noted the Twi'lek's submission-she was definately well-used to pleasure, and seemed to want it rather badly. far be it from him to dissapoint.
"...You're too quiet....slave..."
Calliga teased at his current toy.
Following that statement, he began trying various delights and pleasurable actions on the Twi'lek, increasing his agressiveness and striving to pull some moans out of her at least, or prefferably some cries like he'd gotten from siren. After that...it would be time to indulge intimately with Siren...

The twi'lek was clearly under Calliga's power, the evidence being stacked more and more as she began to moan. She began to cry out, calling him Master rather than by name. Siren simply looked on and smiled, enjoying the show.

" As you wish, Master. " Siren said playfully, slowly starting to move about very sensually, dancing in slow and small, but easy to notice movements in an almost hypnotic way. Her metal bikini seemed to be slowly slipping off, and her movements seemed as though she was dancing around in a way to make it come off by itself. She's clearly done this sort of thing before.

It was way too early to get up, at least for the time which Ritt had gone to bed. Sure, he didn't have eyelids which would want to stay closed, but that damn annoying buzzer wouldn't shut up either. Every single soldier had been alerted of the situation, including those in the back seats, trying to get some sleep. Officer or not, everyone in his squadron would have to report anyway. Many would have to borrow ships, should they be called forward, but as of yet, no assistance from their squadron had been asked for.

Ritt didn't presume to know Stryder well enough to guess everything, but he speculated that there was a decent chance he'd want some good backup, ergo a squadron that could handle a task out of its league. The defense of Tett theoretically was solid; but theories often showed their limitations, such as his squadron theoretically being able to survive that space station unscathed.

He fitted himself into a quick 30 second vibroshower, before donning flight gear and his sunglasses (its nighttime, but around the academy, you never knew who'd be offended by an eyeless person) before heading outside. The crew didn't need to be briefed; they'd seen the formations time and time again. They would be in their barracks outside of Stryder's academy, getting prepped and ready to fight. He would have joined them, but Stryder kept some serious training gear in that fortress of his, something which Ritt could always use in the little free time he usually got.

"I must stand out in this red flightsuit," he muttered. It wasn't something he normally did, worrying about his looks. Normally he enjoyed standing out. "Perhaps I am getting older. I'm not as vain as I used to be, perhaps?"

He quit short, before he'd come up with something that inevitably would make him want to thank stryder for his patience with Ritt. He had to focus, be prepared to mobilize at any time. His fighter was at least safe, repainted to cover up the scorch burns from his previous encounter and tweaked. Red with silver tips on the wings, he had the urge to paint it with small flakes of silver, almsot as if it was an arrowhead dripping with blood. No doubt the council would see it as something else to chastize him about, to point out his problems and weaknesses, to show how dangerously he flirted with the darkness and all that jab.

To him, it was an honor to his fallen comrades. He had accepted their deaths as the will of the force, but he'd fight harder in their memory. The entire squadron would adopt similar wing designs (leaving their main fuselage their unique colors) until the two pilots had been replaced with ones worthy of upholding their unnamed squadron's honor in the war. Ritt may not have been trained to think that way, told it would lead to suffering, to anger, to hate, and the dark side. In his defense, that's what the paint was for, to remove those emotions from him, letting his ship be the cause of pain, leaving him pure.

He climbed into the cockpit, watching as jedi passed here and there, conversing with others on what to do or where to go. He'd stay put for a bit. Given the clearance to take off, he headed up into orbit, grouping with the fleet, dwarfed by much of the capital ships, but no less unique...

[[Dammit.. wrong freakin rp. I deleted it. Ive got a virus, it changes int. pages]]

Deakin lifted his head to open the bottle of jawa beer. It wasn't to drink, but for something better. He paid the tab and headed to his ship. Deakin had a sister and some other relatives on Mandalore. Here and there, he gave them money when they least expected it. He walked to his ship and headed for Mandalore.

Ten minutes into the flight, he fell asleep at the pilots chair. He had the same nightmare. This time, it was empty. There was a Jedi in white standing with her back faced. It was a hot, dark planet. Slowly, the figure turned to him igniting her lightsaber. There was a long fight between the two. Finally, he was down on the ground. Before she impaled him in the chest, there were other Mandalorians. They stood around in a circle, watching him die. As he was impaled, he held out his hand and woke up. Deakin was sweating a bit, and his heart was pounding. The ship was a good half an hour away from Mandalore. He slept for quite a bit. Taking off his helmet, he stretched and walked to his armory. He changed into a camoflauge undershirt and pants with black boots. Then he started to fill a pack with money and wine. For the first time in a while, he was in a good mood. He took control of the ship and landed.

Watch the ship.

The droid nodded and stood in the cockpit. As he opened the door, he rubbed his eyes and hopped out. There was a smile on his face. He saw some old friends messing around, and his sister with her boyfriend. They seemed to be arguing rather loudly. He shook his head and watched to see his next wrong move.