Assault on the Academy

[Joetheeskimo]

That was all Kilmor needed to know. He began to back towards his ship.

[redwookie]

Cyrus Malakai (Human)

Occupation: merc, pilot, sometime assassin

Weapon: Hvy blaster (2), energy sniper rifle

Bio:

Begat by parents who had neither resources nor inclination to feed and raise him, Cyrus was an orphan from infancy. A childhood bereft of kindness, love , or charity produced a cold, emotionless man who has rarely spared a thought for anyone save himself. As soon as he was able he cast himself from the nondescript Outer Rim planet of his birth into an unsuspecting galaxy.

His (conscious) ultimate goal is power for its own sake. However what he really craves is acceptance and respect, things he has never known. This is rather obvious to anyone who cares to look, and has often been used by gang leaders, crime bosses, and assorted villains for whom he has worked to manipulate him for their own ends.

He appears to be in his early to mid twenties, but not knowing his birthday he has know idea of his true age. Unknown to him,he has a modest Force sensitivity.

 

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"All fighters prepare for launch", chirped the slightly feminine, AI voice in Cyrus' earpiece. He sat strapped into the cockpit of his

fighter patiently awaiting the launch sequence. Nothing on his face betrayed the slight apprehension, and even the small pleasurable anticipation surging through him. "Commander, your squadron is tasked with termination of enemy AA installations in anticipation of planetary bombardment. You shall not fail", squawked Fighter Command over the commlink, "launch

in five, four, ..."

Even though he new it was coming the ejection was suprisingly swift and violent. He was thrust savagely back in his seat as the great carrier Black Nova disgorged Cyrus and his squad into the star speckled blackness of cold space. Before he even had time to be terrified of the bright, fat bursts

of AA flak flying up at him the horizon locator had oriented his craft and the targeting AI was assigning him targets. As he dipped below the cloud cover he calmly switched off his AI and began to power down his craft. Instantly his HUD began to flash and his commlink started howling at him. The last thing he heard before he switched it off was his commander desperately trying to raise him.

Flying with just enough power to stay in the air he began to search out a suitable landing site. He soon found a clearing about 200 meters south of what looked to be a pitched battle near some kind of temple or government building. As his craft touched down he began to go over his plan for the millionth time.

'I need a dead Jedi, or at least a grievously wounded one', he mused coldly, 'I'll finish him off and then take a little token, the head would be best but I'll settle for a sword arm if neccessary. The Sith will welcome me with open arms if I have a dead Jedi under my belt'

Warmed by this thought he unsnapped his five point harness, and crept carefully from the cockpit in search of prey.

[F-Bomb]

Name: Jivva Leea

Species: Mandalorian

Profession: Assassin employed by the Sith.

Homeworld: Unknown

 

Jivva Leea has been employed as an assassin for decades, sometimes serving Hutts, sometimes the Sith, and even once, the Republic Senate. His services are in great demand as he is known as practically the finest in the Outer Rim. He was taken from his family at an early age and sold as a slave to a Hutt on Sleheyron, later being trained as an assassin and finally killing the Hutt and embarking as a free agent. His brain has been implanted with two cybernetic devices, one translates languages, the other maintains a permanent link to the Sith and Jedi archives, giving him access to a wealth of information.

 

His training with weaponry and combat tactics is extensive, as is his knowledge of anatomy, Mandalorian or otherwise. He is a master of stealth and surprise. However, he hates to fly, and has no skills to speak of in piloting. He becomes incredibly space sick and takes several hours to acclimate to space conditions on every voyage. To show his hatred of flight, he enjoys taking pot shots at freighters and starfighters when they are in atmospheric range. Did he mention he hates to fly?

 

Equipment: 4 modified assassin's blasters, 1 vibroblade, 1 heavily modified blaster rifle. This rifle is mounted with a scope and configured for sniping. It also has several repititious amplifier circles that can overload the weapon enough to blast a small starfighter out of the sky. Though his missions are secret and demand stealth, he has several mass destruction alternatives: his datapad contains several forms of crippling computer virus, and he carries several vials of the Iridian Plague and Ardroxian Flu.

 

Likes: Women of many species, cash, weapons, the thrill of combat, his fellow Mandalore, and crushing the throats of formidable opponents.

 

Dislikes: Rodians, flying, Bith, flying, most Rebels, flying, Jedi, flying, merchants, flying, starships, flying, space stations, flying, weak adversaries, flying, being shot, flying, being told what to do, flying, and droids.

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Jivva Leea scrambled onto the command deck of the Sith cruiser he was currently stationed on. Turning an interesting shade of green, he surveyed the view screens in front of him. They showed an immense battle at the nearby Jedi academy. He turned to the cruiser's commander, who he technically outranked.

"Take us there, now!" He clutched at his stomach as the ship lurched ahead into the fray. He prepared to be launched in a drop pod to the surface where he could do real damage.