Azguardians believe strongly in leaders getting their hands dirty. Generals lead the army directly, politicians who plan to build more hospitals will join the work crews to build each of them, Rocket scientist launch themselves in their own rockets to test them.

It just seemed to make sense that way.

Regrad, head of the space force, then felt that if anyone would explore the galaxy, it'd be him. He had wondered where to go first, and had decided on Kessle. It was slightly like his homeworld, while at the same time alien enough to be interesting. Plus, he wished to meet some of these humans, they spend so much time doing everything its' hard to imagine they get anything done.

His B-wing drifted slowly to the planet. Assorted fighter-craft would ask him to power down weapons, and state his buissness, so he did. For some reason, they were surprised to hear anyone would go on a holiday to kessle, strange.

Landing quietly and calmly, for a B-wing, he stepped out in the regal fashion of one who could show anyone how to kill them in three seconds using only his elbow.

the Jutraalian empire, he had heard of them too. He still had no idea what to make of them. They weren't really bad people, but not good people either. on the other hand, he HAD fought the GDI, and they weren't good. But he had fought MCR, which was a rather stupid faction, but still not really bad.

The Azguardian mind could see the good in a deathstar or lord of the sith ("At least they keep things clean around the house, and a death star COULD kill, not nessecarily would. right?")

Anyways, he was stopped at customs, so he stopped thinking about it.

"Name?"

"Regrad"

"Last name?"

Azguardians don't have last names, each name is unique. in his oanick he though for the most common one he knew.

"......Smith?"

"Regrad Smith... anything to declare?"

Regrad took out everything he had brought: three suitcases full of food, one of cloths, one with assorted explorers' devices (map, guides, camera, etc) one containing three blaster rifles, a blaster pistol, thirteen ammo clips, two vibro-knives, a laser cutter, four top-of-the-range thermal detonators-

"Wait a minute, that's illeagal, that is!" the custom officer said, and picked up a fruit "no fruits or veggies... well i'll let you off this once.

And that is how Regrad entered Kessle

Regrad explored Kessle, starting from the landing platform. There wasn't much to see, so he wandered aimlessly into town. There were bars, and clubs, and clubs of a questionable nature, and that sort of stuff. And it was O.k. until he actually got thirsty after doing the tourist thing and went to get a drink.

The bar he entered, The Greased Onion, went quiet as he stepped in. If YOU saw a grey alien giant walk in, one of his suit-cases bristling with guns, you would go quiet too.

"A drink, please" he said, smiling. It was the sort of smile that was great fun to see being turned on other people, but not the one you would want to be too close to.

"A drink? which drink?" Said Jack Oleman, the bartender

Regrad paused "Anything"

The barman started to sense a kind of generosity and niceness in this person, which in a bar like this coincided with stupid.

"Here you go, one dead mans' special"

The bar went silent again, this time because anyone who drank Jack Olemans' special was definetly a dead man. or one about to recieve a terminal case of diahriaa.

The stranger drank it. He did not cough, or vomit, or spasm, which was weird. what was weirder was after ten seconds he was still alive and with clean pants.

When Azguardians discovered the theory of capitalism, they felt abit cheated, that they haven't got any yet. Of course they didnt use it on their world, but they kept up a massive supply incase they need any later when dealing with others.

So with this new cash, he payed the barman enough for the bar and everyone in it.

But as he left, he turned and said "Oh, and do you know where I could get a good droid? these cases are a bugger"

"Klein Farsted sells the best droids on Kessle" said Jack weakly

"Thanks then" said the Alien, who left.

And then, because the laws of the universe demand it, a barfight broke out in honour of their rich, weird, gian alien visitor.

Regrad went to get a droid, was offered an R5 costing twice its' value, which he payed five times over, got an advanced protocol droid for nothing when the owner mistook him for a man from a certain loaning buisness, and a "Treadwell" MK 7 to help with the ship and carry the bags.

With these aquisitions, he took some photos, talked to some people, signed a number of guestbooks, told off a spice merchant for being bad, and visited the government house, for more photos and lots of fact-gathering. Oh yes, and someone tried to mug him, who he immeadietly tore the head off of.

Word gets around fast in kessle though, and news that some alien with lots of cash came to kessle for a holiday and flys an advance B-wing, eating crazy fruit, and being nice-except to muggers.

But he ignored the motels and such, contriving to sleep out in the country, as he called it. The natives had many other words for it, including boring. But when one is a tourist, one can be interested in anything.

The next day, he returned to town. There a team of official-looking people with guns approached him.

"The jutraalian governor wishes to see you at once" said one.

Regrad was not stupid, far from it, he just enjoyed his first holiday in ten years and the intoxicating feeling of being on another planet. These were not government officicals. The presence in the rear of his mind told him that.

But the presence said follow, so he did, all the while holding a palm pistol nestled in his inner hand.

The men led him to an old gov-house, and took him in front of some figure of obvious importance. A criminal, no doubt. Everything said, look at me, i am a bad man and very wealthy because of it. monkey.

"So, my friend" said the rich man, the type of man noone voluntarily makes friends with "I hear you have flaunted alot of wealth in this city. For a small piece of said wealth, my men can make sure you do not encounter any... unpleasentness"

"I'm fine, thank you" Said Regrad.

"But surly" Said the criminal boss, his voice betraying signs of iritance "you couldn't just wander around here safely, I mean men such as these might have found you"

A pair of classical thugs with clubs approached him. Regrad brought up the blaster and shot one. Then, fangs extended, tore out the throat of the other. Needless to say, the criminals fled. Regrad spat out most of the blood, and turned to deal with the rest. He hated it when they struggle, how is one supposed to hold on to them?

(This message was left blank)

Few things hinted to the existence of the defense outpost, few things could. It was nestled just near the Kessel asteroid field, the "border" between the planetary star system and the vicious Maw that had been infamous in its time to smugglers around the galaxy. The True Justice as it was called, burrowed itself nice and cozily, if anything blending in with its rock-like surroundings.

It had been there since before the first of the Alliance Wars, the Great Eclipse War, which had led to the First Mon Cal-Jutraalian War. It had been there to keep tabs on both the Mon Cals and the Almanians, to be sure that their horrors would not spread throughout the galaxy.

The Mon Cal were not evil per se...simply easily manipulated, and their ability to be manipulated had led to their demise. Three times as it was.

Though the True Justice had also served as a quick deploy base when the Yuuzhan Vong had attempted their second invasion of the known galaxy. It had seemed that this new warlord, one that had gone by the name of Zhin Dwamor, had taken a keen notice of the Hutt territories, and chose that as his base of operations.

The Jutraalian Empire was quick to stop this however, and hault their advance by thwarting their invasion of Ylesia. Afer the Mon Cal Republic had rammed a star cruiser into the planet's surface in order to try to pollute the planet with radiation from the ship's core, the Jutraalian Empire took the planet, and was still now attempting to repair the damage Snowkan had done.

Years later and even now it was still hopelessly infected with the foul radiation.

With the space station's incredible long range capabilities it was an excellent station for pin pointing starships attempting to enter the system and in turn informing customs of the incoming.

It had served its purposes, and when needed had launched squadrons of starfighters to supress bulks of enemy attacks.

Also holding a small garrison of six dozen stormtroopers it was capable of dispatching boarding parties as well, making it a much desireable space station to have, and Emperor Fearsons had even considered placing them in all Jutraalian sovereignties.

Life had always beamed with activity there, none had ever been bored when serving aboard the True Justice, there'd always been some sort of expedition or adventure, ranging from the tiniest of misadventures - such as the CO's missing cover that everyone scrambled to locate - to even serious dangers to the station - a radiation leak that had happened in the core of the station.

But in the end the station had always stood, and when it tracked a strange B-Wing entering the star system...





The comms officer nodded and thanked the enlisted crewman from the True Justice before closing the transmission. He turned his head to the XO, who had been waiting patiently.

"Well?" he demanded briskly. Lieutenant Commander Paragorn never was the kind known for patience.

"Sir, True Justice indicates an incoming signature that identifies as a B-Wing class bomber," replied the comms officer casually. He adjusted his tunic slightly, almost insultingly, as well as his military cover. The XO narrowed his eyes at the blatant disrespect.

"Ensign, atten-hut!" Paragorn shouted. With the efficiency and eagerness that only a new recruit could attain, the comms officer leapt to attention.

This caused the XO of the Victory-Class Star Destroyer Twin Suns to grin openly. He decided to let the ensign stay there a while.

"Carry on with your report," he said proudly, taking a seat in the chair that the ensign had left vacant.

Eyes forward, the ensign continued, suddenly regretting his lack of respect. "Sir, True Justice states that a B-Wing has made it to customs and is now on the ground, they contact customs about it sir, and they state that they let him passed, he appeared to be a civilian."

A curious expression found its way to Paragorn's expression. "Hmm, not every civilian has a B-Wing...I wonder where he got it."

"There has also been reports of an alien flashing around enormous amounts of foreign credits on the streets, intell suspects him to be a noble of some sort."

"Any idea what planet he's from?"

"None sir."

Again Paragorn nearly drowned himself in thought, and he buried his chin in his hand. A noble coming to Kessel? The planet totally lacked oxygen, and almost lacked an atmosphere for that matter, except for in the two cities that had been set up for civilian commerce about the planet.

"What city is he in?" Paragorn asked suddenly. By then the ensign's leg muscles were beginning to ache.

"I do not know sir, I can check though sir."

"You'd best do that, as you were." The relieved comms officer took the strain off his beginning to sore knees. Paragorn grinned at the obvious discomfort. While new recruits had always been more enthusiastic, they always did lack the strain requirements.

The XO rose from the comm officer's seat and made his way for the far side of the bridge. One B-Wing was not the height of his day. The Twin Suns had far more important things to be concerned about.





Ever since the Mon Cal's fall and the rise of Jutraalian commerce on Kessel, General Dwight - the commandant of the Jutraalian Marine Corps - had placed hundreds of marines to defend the planet and safeguard the cities. Kessel thus far was only the second planet in the galaxy to have a Marine base, the citizens actually seemed rather honored.

With thus there were always those that were on leave and parading the streets in genuine excitement. The Marine Corps held the best offensive troops in the galaxy, better even than stormtroopers, and had only been used once in combat. Their skill came at a great cost of time and energy, and marines were often more than happy to take a break from the pressures of the base.

The cities of Kessel were a perfect getaway. Always they would dwell themselves in the bars, in the clubs, they would relax and allow themselves to let loose. It was their time off, and they would do whatever they could while out.

Of course they had been taught to keep an omnipresent alert even when off-duty, terrorists to the Jutraalian Empire - such as the newly devilish Tholatin Drive Yards - often found haven in these little cities, and were indeed known for causing deathly explosions in otherwise peaceful areas.

Hence why Lieutenant Carek never left the base without at least his side arm, which was tucked neatly under his sweat shirt that read in black letters: JIMC...Jutraalian Imperial Marine Corps.

He took in the streets with one quick glance before staring up at the "ceiling" of it. It was an artificial atmosphere, to provide both oxygen and life to the one of two urban sites on Kessel. Beyond was nothing but an arid desert of red rock and enormous natural mountains. Here and there were mining industries and small garrisons, even some hover train tracks, but asside from such it was surprisingly barren, making even Tatooine seem like Coruscant in comparison.

At the time all he really wanted was to get out and party, he was twenty four years old and had been couped up on the Twin Suns and Bravo Base for months, he wanted to get out and do something with his life.

He promised to meet Major Trevelan, the leader of Rogue Squadron who had recently gotten off duty, at one of the more fancy clubs here, the pilot's treat.

But something had caught his eye, something that simply did not feel right deep down inside. There was an alien, something he'd never seen before, surrounded by well dressed almost business men looking humanoids. One had been a human, the other a rodian, both in well maintained suits. How had a rodian gotten his hand on a suit? Even worse, how had a rodian been convinced to wear a suit?

But the fact that they were very obviously playing off his ignorance of Jutraalian customs caused another flash of worry to hit the marine.

"The governor wishes to see you," he heard the human say, his accent thickly Hapan. What the hell was a Hapan doing on Kessel? Even worse, why was he lying about the Jutraalian governor? This wasn't the capitol of Kessel. Trying not to seem to be eavesdropping, he guided off of the road toward one of the street shops, taking a strange looking fruit in hand.

He tossed it up and down several times as if weighing it, watching the trio out of the corner of his eye as they made toward a rather raggedy building. Exactly what was going on here?

When they stepped inside, Carek placed the fruit back down and sprinted across the street, keeping an eye on any windows that the others' comrades could be watching out of. All seemed shut, and the blinds were all closed. Convenient.

Scout, analyze, and report, don't be a hero.

They had drilled that hard into his head during basic, that a marine should never try to do things by himself. At the very minimum he should never attack an unknown force without at least one other person. Battle buddies they referred to them as.

If they were checking single-handidly they were to figure out the situation and get back to base to alert the other marines. In an instance like this, he would have to alert the local police force.

As the door was eased shut, he placed his foot in front of it. Fortunately it was a slow shutting door, and it did not cause any pain to his foot. It simply felt that another person was trying to enter and reopened.

The room was musky smelling, the odor of cheap tabacc and stale alcohol overcoming all else. There was the smoke of cigarras about, and he was pretty certain he could also smell spice going on somewhere in there.

The three made their way up a flight of stairs, and carek reached down under his sweatshirt to get his blaster. He checked the power pack before advancing forward, gun held near his head, each foot measured carefully.

He heard talk from upstairs, typical thug talk.

"Perhaps you should purchase some protection," he heard. What the? He took a step closer, and heard the shink of a blade being withdrawn, followed by some wicked laughter. The next phrase was drowned out by his battle momentum.

Defend innocents at all costs, they are not soldiers and should not be dragged into war.

That specific order overrode the "don't be a hero" one now didn't it? He inhaled sharply and took another step up the stairs, then another until he found himself staring at a room full of people, all with bats or other equally painful weapons out.

There was a big man, a Corellian maybe, staring at the alien. Now that he got a good look at him, no wonder the thugs had tried to take him. He was dressed like a bloody noble. What was he doing on Kessel then?

One of the thugs behind him began to advance, as did the ring leader with the biggest club, who was getting ready to swing.

Carek knew he had to act now.

He brought down his blaster and took two shots. Both hit dead on, one in the back of the knee, the other in the arm, causing the human to fall to the ground. Then it was the alien's turn, and he almost felt foolish at the sight for trying to intervene.

Claws and fangs retracted out and it lunged itself at the ringleader, who let out a childish, boyish scream as the massive hulk of the alien fell onto him. The other thugs decided to try to get it off of their boss. Perhaps there was a reward to be had.

Carek took another series of shots, downing two more thugs, and the alien lunged itself at three others. All three fell in unison - two to each claw and the third to the alien's mouth. For a moment Carek felt fear build inside of him. Had that thing gone mad? Would it kill him too?

One of the gangsters reached under its coat - a rodian, typical for having heavy weapons without knowing how to use them - and pulled out what could have been made only by a jawa. It had a huge tube on the end that could have served as a barrel, with countless parts and protrusions all along its frame.

It took aim at the marine and squeezed the trigger. Carek threw himself to the ground and began to crawl the rest of the way from the stairs, but the rodian had not shot. He looked up curiously, only to find that it was still holding the trigger. It seemed he needed to charge the weapon.

The rodian began to curse in its own tongue and stared angrily at the marine. Asside from Carek's blaster bolt, fear was the last thing to go through its mind.

With all the gangsters dead or surrendering - throwing themselves to the floor to avoid the alien's as well as the marine's wrath - he turned then to the extraordinarily feral creature.

"Freeze!" he yelled, aiming his blaster at it. "I don't know what you are and I'm not here to hurt you, but freeze or I'll shoot."

The thing simply eyed him curiously.

Regrad had herd of people like these, polis-men, or something of the like. apparently some governements needed to watch their people to keep things in order.

If this was true, Regrad needed to leave before they discovered who he was. Polis-men wer military, right? they respect medals and such.

Regrad drew forth a clip of impresive medals, two shaped like planets, three of the azguardian symbol, and one was a great star, warrior of Yunos, first-class.

"I ham a gerneral" he said, in broken basic "I ham here on a holiday. You have a very... nice planet" he said worriedly. After a momet, the presence whispered quietly into his brain. The presence warned him that humans were like Quaraks, they hold on and never let go, espcecially polis men. if he stayed, he could jeprodize Azguards' defence. How could he get rid of this small man without killing him? In a split-second, Regrad extended his fangs to their full extent, excreeting a powerful venom, his eyes were engulfed in red, and muscles burst from his lith frame. He roared and leapt towards a boarded up widow, which shattered infront of him. Any shot from the human would have only hurt, nothing could kill an Azguardian in full rage barre the destruction of his body.

He had been detected, and he needed to escape from this polis-man before he could be caught. Oh dear, lower coruscant all over again. And this was a new shirt too. Could be worse, the window could have been higher up.

(It has been 72 hours, and though this is not a fight, I need this char for important things later. I have to move this story along quickly so as to do what I intended)

Regrad ran through the streets, unaware if the Polis-man waschasing. He didn't really care, rounded a corner and got to his ship. from there he leapt in and began to take off. he had to get out NOW, for although he could out-run his opponant he doubted he could out-fly, and there must be ships somewhere here.

He also made a note to visit these Mon Cal, they seemed to have caused alot of trouble to the locals.

Without looking around, Regrad fled system. Sith lords could have been floating around in their underpants, burping to she'll be coming round the mountain when she comes and he wouldn't have noticed. They could be chasing and he wouldn't have noticed. He felt worried. The Jutraaians wouldn't follow him, would they? he had defended himself, not attacked. well, not much.

He set up a few jumps to go somewhere interesting, somewhere near the second arm of wild space, around the Tion Cluster, below the tingel arm. He must see these Mon Cal. Yes, Mon Calamari sounded good, but was it safe? he thought about it carefully as he drifted forwards.

OOC: I know Chadd had trouble getting to the computer, but I need to get moving. This guy is my groups' ONLY general, and to top it off all my other members have quickly seemed to have lost intrest so I have alot to do. Besides, I honestly doubt he could have caught me. If, Chadd, you read this, then I have left enough spaces in the story you can still react.

He pressed the last buttons, and waited. His ship shuddered lightly as it entered hyperspace. He relaxed, alittle. He could easily be traced. He had been seen, his ship identified. He stopped the jump now.

Where would he go? The Mon Cals were like subordinates to the TJE, and if he went home, they might follow him. He prayed to yunos to light his wa, and chose a random planet...

Hope this worked...