The Galactic Coalition was in trouble, and the Azguards were scrambling to find out what to do. They were not built for the sort of running, constant, shifting war that this had turned into - each side constantly losing worlds only to retake them - and they needed help.

But who could they go to? The Coalition was there for them, but with affairs as they were, it too was suffering from organizational difficulties. They were blundering, and the constant confidence of the Empire was throwing them off. They needed leaders, they needed strength, they needed a dose of sanity.

But where were they going to get it from? Their leader, Regrad, was lost to sight on the bloody battlefield above Corellia. The Gods were bound to their homeworld and could not aide their people. The Azguard Affairs Office seeked desperately for an outside source that could make sense of the chaos of the war, that could find logic, that could explaine to them, somehow, what it was they had to do.

They may have found him. One Azguard Official came across THIS report, and after reading it thoroughly, he realized that it was true! This man, this Viryn Quell, seemed to have what they were looking for-namely an understanding of the galaxy and how to better it. Some said it was a sad day when the government turned to foreign citizens for advice, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

So, in secret, a small team of Azguards has been despatched-only about six, using privately-owned vehicles-to find this man on the world of Dorthal, and try and convince him to help the Azguards, the Coalition, and ultimately, the Galaxy.

________________________________________________________________

"Bring us in"

"Hold it steady now, they're scanning."

"Are the coordinates slated?"

"Got them right here, sir."

The good ship Artefice, little more then a small, personal transport for maybe six to eight people, came into orbit of Dorthal. According to their information, Obligation Press was nearly directly beneath them. The Anthos Republic was giving them little trouble, as they descended to the planet's surface. After securing a docking position and paying the officials there double not to ask questions, the party of six set out.

A three-meter-tall, grey, clawed, fanged group of aliens cannot hide. They walked through the streets with large, grey cloaks slung over them, looking with solid-red eyes at any who would question them. Finally, after several dead-ends, they found there way to Obligation Press.

They knocked on the door, and waited.

*EDIT* Bump

Viryn Quell wasn't awakened by the first knock, or the second. In fact, he'd not slept in at least three days; when it finally came, he clung to it like a small child unwilling to get up for school. No, it was something else entirely that woke the famed writer.

"Hello!"

The face -- that of a young, fairly attractive woman -- was about three inches from his own, if not less. The voice was inhumanly loud, and of an impossible pitch. This was, however, for a very logical reason; its source was completely inhuman.

"Fucking hell," Viryn muttered, crawing out of the bed and glancing around the small appartment. The ground was littered with a collection of papers, datapads, and clothing; a variety of complex computer equipment -- most of which Viryn didn't fully understand -- sat in the corner, thrumming softly.

Miette was, as always, his personal assistant, publicist, and alarm clock, among other things. She needed to be, since Obligation Publishing was little more than the two of them; a writer, and a semi-sentient human replicant droid. Taking on the outward appearance of a bustling and productive publishing business, it was in fact little more than a front for Viryn's continued Holonet output, and a diversion for those seeking him.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Viryn asked, grabbing his glasses and hastily shoving them on.

It was only then -- as his eyes quickly scanned the room -- that he saw the shadows, under the door, in the distinct position indicated a pair of feet.

When the Empire had returned to Coruscant, he'd very quickly become a wanted man; a criminal, hunted down by Stormtroopers, fleeing from hole to hole, hastily shooting off press releases before the authorities again located him. Only by extreme paranoia and caution had he survived and chartered an unregulated shuttle off of Imperial Center.

And so, his reaction was not a suprise to Miette, whose perfect memory retained all things. "Who the hell is that?"

"The reason I woke you?" She replied sarcastically.

"Shit."

Access to his appartment was carefully restricted; almost no one knew he was living there. Those seeking Obligation Press would find themselves at a very typical office building, the droid operators of which would deny them access and direct them to contact Mr. Quell through his holonet address. "You know what I mean!" He whispered, pulling on a sweater hastily.

"A group of aliens. Three meters tall. Grey. Some species I don't recognize. They're pretty ugly."

Scrambling, he rushed to the computers, smashing hastily the button that melted their magnetic discs. He grabbed his blaster pistol, adjusted his glasses again, and rushed for the only exit available to him. He pulled open the appartment's single window, leaping onto the emergency escape outside. Miette, somewhat curious but still not alarmed, slowly moved over to it, looking up at him. "They don't seem hostile. I can read people, and these guys aren't looking for trouble. They're looking for something, for sure, but not trouble."

"Oh, what the hell do you know," Viryn muttered, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out.

"There is no response."

"Perhaps he is out? Or our information is incorrect?"

"Unlikely"

These Azguards were not nice, like a regular one. They were part of a small tribe who worship the god of darkness, Ishon. They, unlike the rest of Azguardians, are humourless. They also compose the entire intelligence operations of the Azguards, because regular Azguards are just too unreliable to think. Send 'em in for short periods of time to kill people or make friends, is the ideal use of a regular.

The most shadowy of the operatives stepped forwards. At three meters tall he was strong enough to force any door, but just to be sure, he initiated his Draad (switches personalities), who knew much more about the violent parts of espionage. His claws scythed wildly for a few seconds, and the door fell in.

"Mr. Quell? Is this the home and/or office of a mr. Quell?"

No response.

Slowly, they entered. Opening a door to his room, they saw the general dissary.

"Well... @#%$."

"What do we do now?"

"Our orders are clear. We find him and deliver our Lords' proposal. X-2, X-3, follow him on foot out the window. You are faster then he and will catch him. Should he resist do not hurt him, you will probably survive any small-arms fire. He is a writer, not a soldeir. X-4, X-5, stay here and gather what you can from these... living quaters. Have all his possession stacked orderly and neatly. X-6 and I will continue back to the ship and wire high-command, updating them on the situation."

X-4's eyes flickered a shade of green. "I find it odd that you and X-6 constantly work together..."

His line of questioning was brought to a halt by a withering stare from X-1 "Enough of that, you have your orders. Remember, government forces are to be avoided, and not harmed at all cost. Civilians doubly so. If you secure him, deliver the message, and should he be incapacitated return him to the ship."

X-5, who was examining a computer near the desk spoke up "There was a droid, what should we do about it?"

"There was nothing in the mission briefing about a droid. Treat as a civilian, take with Vyren should it be taken online. Move out."

(bump 4)

Viryn muttered nervously to himself as he hurried down the catwalk-street, still dragging Miette by the hand. "I really don't think this is necessary..."

"Shut it," he said. "Do you remember Coruscant? We have to be paranoid. We have to keep moving."

Miette rolled her eyes. "We're not in Imperial territory anymore, you know." She made a good point. Dorthal resembled Coruscant in nearly every way, and Viryn still woke up in the middle of the night, thinking he was on Imperial Center.

"Do you think these people give a damn about us?" The writer waved a hand bitterly at the passers-by as the made their way through a crowd, Miette finally shaking his hold off of her hand and following of her own volition. "Anthos is nothing but another self-interested puppet government, selling their souls to the highest bidder. The Empire says jump, Anthos says 'How high?'"

"There are no aliens in the Empire," she pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure the guys at our door weren't human."

"Oh you are, are you?" Viryn asked sarcastically. "A moral organization like the Empire, after all, would never think of hiring another species to do their dirty work."

Miette shook her head. "Is everyone out to get you?"

Viryn spun, fire in his eyes, pointing a finger at his android assistant. "Yes." He began to turn, but before he finished, he stopped dead, grabbed Miette by the hand, and turned the corner, onto another catwalk, this one snaking about a massive, circular building.

One hundred meters down their former catwalk, crossing a bridge that stretched between city sections across an infinite chasm reaching to Dorthal's lower levels, had been a group of gray-skinned aliens.

"If they're so friendly, what the fuck is all this about, then?" Viryn asked, looking over his shoulder and breaking into a run.

"For a scrawny reporter he runs with great speed" commented X-2.

"That he is" added X-3 "But he is not strong, he is human, he will tire in time. Keep running, sooner or later we will catch him."

The crowds were jostling them. Well, jostling them as much as a crowd half your height can. It was like wadeing through a sea of people, squeezing through mobs of people, out for some reason or another, and all irrtibly directly between the agents and the target.

"He is climbing."

"That he is. This is good, there are less people, we shall be able to run again."

The pair made it - safely - to the stairs, and began to climb.

X-2, deciding to take the risk, shouted "Do not run, master Quell, we represent the Coalition!"

X-3 slapped X-2 on the back of the head. "You fool! Did you not read the data-files on the Anthos? Did You??"

"Perhaps I did, and perhaps not."

There was trouble below them. Four men, in local law-enforcment uniforms, were making a beeline through the crowds towards the stairs. They did not look as if they intended to help them reach the target.

"Run faster, and never shout again."

___________________________________________________________

Elsewhere, X-4 and X-5 were scraping through the meager possessions of the fleeing Mr. Quell. A couple books here and there, some clothes, some personal possessions, some data-pads, not much really. They were careful to take note of everything, proceeded to package them into easy-to-carry parcles.

They were to take the parcles to the ship, to keep them safe - yes, they really ment that - until the man was found and his decision made. Just before they left, X-5 placed a card on the table (the only thing they left) which said, simply:

Coalition Azguard Affairs office, temporary regional bureau, station five.

______________________________________________________________

"He's running?" Said Regrad "Well crap. Catch up with him, quick, I want an answer by tonight and him either safely here with us or comfortably home and no-longer bothered by strangers."

"We will stay here and await the return of the others" said X-6 "This is operation team #2334572 leaving you for now, sir."

(Bump 1)

Viryn Quell tore through another crowded street of people, around another catwalk and across more endless artificial abysses created by the city structure of Dorthal. With a quick glance behind him, he found that Miette was still keeping up, rather effortlessly -- not suprising, since she was a droid. This did aggrivate him slightly, and he looked away.

Darting into a large speede parking garage, the pair finally began to slow, Quell panting slightly. It had been a long time since his stint in the Imperial armed forces, and though still almost anemically skinny, he had begun to get out of shape. "Think we've lost them?" He asked, glacning over his shoulder. The question was mostly rhetorical.

"Doubt it," Miette answered anyway.

Viryn spewed a random curse and continued through the garage. "Has it occured to you that we probably won't be able to outrun them?"

The writer turned, running a hand through his hair. "So? Fuck," he muttered, pacing briefly, then continuing through the garage, then stopping, then starting again. "I hope the deepest circle of hell is reserved for anyone who hunts down a reporter..."

"This coming from the devout atheist."

"You may think this is funny," Viryn roared, spinning and grabbing his droid assistant by the collar. "But I sure as fucking hell don't! Think about where we are! Think about what I do! We escaped so many times on Coruscant -- do you think our luck will last?" His hair still strangely tousled, his face unshaven (though it was always so) and his eyes wide with paranoid anxiety, the author appeared quite mad indeed.

Unabashedly, Miette replied, "Well, don't look now, but..."

As a droid, one of Miette's many abilities was hearing significantly superior to that of any human. "What is it? What do you hear?" Viryn asked, breaking away from her. He felt for his blaster at his waist nervously.

And quickly enough, from around the far corner of the speeder parking garage, came a duo of tall, grey aliens. Whirling about frantically, Viryn turned around just in time to see a second pair, approaching from the way he'd came, from the street outside.

"Viryn Quell, of Obligation Publishing?" One of them asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Viryn heard himself reply. Four of them. If he was going down, it would be with a fight. Here, underground, where no civilians could be hurt. Yes. He'd been accused all of his career by ignorant politicians of being nothing more than a reporter; not a warrior, or a soldier. Now he would show them. He would not go quietly. He would die fighting.

"We -- " But the alien stopped, turning. For from both directions that the aliens had come, came squads of humans, dressed in black and gray and carrying blaster weapons.

"Dorthal Security," they announced. "Put down your weapons and -- sheath whatever claws or other beastly natural weapons you possess. You will be coming with us."

The agents were surrounded. The only way out was a looming chasm on one side, leading to a street many stories down, or through the guards.

"The objective is still clear" said X-4

"Protect the Reporter." said X-3, with a nod.

With that, X-3 and X-4 pounced forwards and grabbed Quell and Miette, supporting them with ease. Despite some struggling on the part of Quell, they were small burdens.

X-2 and X-5 stood their ground, and as the guards aimed to fire, the two operatives leapt within their midst. Several las-shots found their mark, but they either were absorbed by the armour worn under the agents' cloaks, or were not enough to kill them outright.

X-3 and X-4 then, with a calmness more worrying then the battle occuring behind them, leapt off the edge of the parapet.

"and... Now!"

The two falling agents extended their claws mid-plummet, digging them deep into the side of the wall. There was the sound of barely-muffled cursing from the pair, and the distinct sound of cracking.

Fortunately, their claws withstood their weight long enough for them to place the pair they were carrying safely on the level bellow. There was then a loud, mighty crack as their claws snapped clean off, combined with loud and vibrant swearing in an unusual and harsh-sounding language. X-4 swung to safety on the lower level.

X-3, however, was not as fast. There was a rush of wind as he fell down even further, smacking painfully into the wall of the building several times, before landing with an all-mighty crash on the ground below. People in all directions gasped and screamed, and X-3 didn't move. It looked as though he may never move again.

"Drafan!" spat X-4, who paused for less then a second while watching his fellow agents' descent, before rounding on the pair.

"We must leave now. The mission has been comprimised. The High Lord wants to speak with you." he said, pointing calmy at Quell, before continuing "As a representative of the Azguard people I can humbly offer to you the sincerest apoligies for this inconvenience, and would like to extend to you - on behalf of my commander - the position of-"

His words were cut short. X-2 and X-5, bleeding from multiple las-wounds, raced down the stairs, pursued by roughly half of the guards who had cornered them. X-4 broke into a run, and joined them. Quell and Miette had little choice to follow, least they be trampled by the onrush of guards.

"Military casualties inflicted?"

"None, they were simply disabled. X-3?"

"Possibly dead. We regroup at the ship, they won't be able to continue their pursuit once we reach the space-port, from there we can complete the mission and escape."

"The reporter?"

"He has suffered no injuries and should be fine."

"He is not keeping up."

Two agents reached back, and pulled Quell out of the reach of the guards. Miette was a droid, and was thus having an easier time keeping pace.

One of the agents, X-2, turned to face Quell, giving him a smile that seemed to have friendly intentions, and said "You are the reporter? We have heard much of you."

(See below for tenth-bump celebratory post.)

Hurrah! Today marks the tenth time I've bumped this thread back on to the first page, waiting for gash to post, since I last posted in the thread and advanced the story! Another four days will also make it the TENTH WEEK since I posted, making this a double celebration.

I'd like to lift a glass to Gash, who has - I think - broken any record I've ever seen of waiting for someone to post. This monumental accomplishment will go down in my personal history book as a most important event. Cheers.

(P.S. Ahnk is a smelly pants for having no sense of humour. You don't see Gash complaining about the OOC posting.

But then, you don't see Gash around here much at all - ZING! Oh, and its' now officially been more then ten weeks.)

:D

Another bump.

Frakutsk rolled over in his sleep.

"Gash needs to post for dolash... zzzz..."

But then... he had a dream.

In his dream, a beutiful unicorn that was as white as light and as dazzling as a diamond appeared. It was so real, frakutsk himself was seated on strange green stuff that shot up in little two-inch spheres that were no more than a centameter in diameter. It felt strangely confortable, and he couldent help but lay down and watch the unicorn. "I am the ghost of posting past..." It said eeirily, and frakutsk drifted of into a land where there were many posts, it was heaven, he frolicked cheerfully amid the activeness, until suddenly it stopped, and he was jerked back into not-reality. This time, instead of the white unicorn, was a hidious monster that was as ugly as ren and as big as a collosus. The ground changes from the strange green stuff into an even stranger sea of strange little specks of browness. Its booming voice boomed, "I AM THE GHOST OF POSTING FUTURE". Wait, something wa definately wrong here. "Wheresa is da postin present?" Asked frakutsk quizically. "Hes on sabatical, dont ask questions." Than frakutsk drifted into a strange land, nothing could be seen for as far as frakutsk could see. "Remember, this is the future if you do not change your ways" And then the monster made a strange cough that sounded suspiciously like the words "gash" and "O.R.S." mixed together.

Then frakutsk awoke, out of his sleepful sleepyness. Then he realized that that woulden work for the merger thread, so he slept back into sleep.

(OOC:With Gash's permission, I will NPC Viren Quell (whos' name I have continuously spelt wrong) so as to push this story ahead.)

As the agents dragged Viren down flight after flight of stairs, the occasional shot ricocheted dangerously around them. Crowds in their way parted, and speeders flew madly away from them as they made a mad dash from the guard squads above, and trying to outrace the ones below. Viren could only stare at the proceedings in total confusion, struggling wildly with those who held him in their iron grip.

Finally, the team made it out onto the ground level, ahead of the guards trying to block the door and well before those who were behind them.

X-4 guestured madly in the direction of their ship, shouting incoherently, but X-2 and 5 got the general idea, and with their two guests in tow made their way through the throngs of people. X-4 went to the side of the wall where X-3 lay broken and bleeding. Slinging his fallen comrade over his shoulder, he too began to run towards the ship.

________________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere, X-1 and X-6, sat in the ship, waiting for a report. The ships' comm unit sparked to life, and X-5's voice could be heard.

"Sir!" he called "We have the reporter and the droid, but we are being followed. How are we to proceed?"

"How many? What is it that is pursuing you?"

"Government forces, they are completely alerted to our presence sir. X-3 is badly injured and we are not far from the ship."

Damn. He'd hoped to have time to give some formal introduction, but it appears luck was not with them right now.

"Your orders are this: Return with the two forthwidth, we will launch immeadietly. With at least a little luck we will make it out long before they have time to scramble fighters to stop us."

"Orders recieved, sir." said X-5, who then shut off his comm.

"X-6?" Called X-1 "Prepare the ship for take off and tell me the very moment our fellow agents are in sight!"

"Yes sir!" boomed X-6, who leapt to the task.

X-1 sat himself in the pilots' seat. All they needed was a little luck... He only hoped it was worth all the trouble they were going through.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Anthos Guards were loath to fire into crowds, and the agents kept themselves well concealed as they darted their way under cover towards their ship. Using their bulky frames to protect Viren and Miette from fire, their thin armour burned under the occasional potshot, but they kept going with admirable resolve.

At last, and with great effort, they made the last dash to the transport ship. X-2 and 5 apoligized as they dropped Viren and Miette less-then-lightly in the ship. Viren was so taken aback he didn't have time to try and escape before he had to roll out of the way of X-3's body as it was dropped into the ship too by X-4. Then the three other agents clambered aboard and slammed the door shut.

"What is going on here?-" Demanded Viren, as he climbed up against a wall.

"I apoligize, Mr. Quell, we had hoped to explain the situation to you, but it appears we have hit a snag. Unfortunately, it appears it is no longer safe for you here, and we ask your cooperation in moving you out of this danger zone so we might further discuss-"

The ship rocked dangerously as it was peppered with las-fire.

"No time for this now!" Exclaimed X-2, as he jumped into the pilot's seat. Grabbing the controls, he set the shuttle to lift-off and began dodging the incoming fire. Viren Quell let forth a stream of obscenity as he was flung against the walls, while Miette kept her balance admirably with the agents, who were busy manning the gun and keeping the ship in order.

The shuttle blazed its' way from the surface of the planet, Anthos local police authority scrambling its' ships for intercept. Guns burned a path through the sky, but X-2 kept the ship one step ahead, and made his way for the atmosphere. The police ships began pursuit, but it looked like they were too far to catch up now.

As they cut through the atmosphere, and the last gun shots faded behind them, Viren struggled to his feet and looked wild-eyed around the ship. "What the @#%$ is going on!?" He demanded.

X-1 stood before him "Calm down, sir." he said "We are not here to harm you. We have been sent by High Lord Regrad of the Coalition."

Virens' heavy breathing and panicked look subsided little. He knew the Coalition might not be quite as bad as the Empire, but it also didn't take well to critics. Also, he had never heard of these "Azguard" guys, and the title High Lord didn't sound too inviting.

"I don't care who you're working for, you're letting me go NOW."

X-1 sighed. "I'm sorry, sir, but Regrad is quite anxious to meet you. He is a big fan, you know. You may have heard of the "Azguard affairs office?""

This rang a little bell in Virens' memory. He had read of its' mention in a handful of Coalition press releases, but there was practically no information on them anywhere. "What about it?"

X-1 took out his Azguard Affairs badge, and handed it over to Viren. It seemed pretty official, but that really didn't prove anything. "Our original orders were to provide you with the oppourtunity to meet our Lord, but it seems circumstances have changed. There is no where safe we can leave you right now, and Regrad will be most capable of aiding you in whatever you plan to do. We ask only for your trust."

"Trust" snorted Viren, who wasn't completely aware of the fact he'd just snorted. "Why should I honestly trust you? You just kidnapped me and Miette, fought your way out of an Anthos world, and are now claming to work for a mysterious organization in the Coalition for aliens no one has ever seen before? Bullshit."

"Viren" Said Miette, with distinct annoyance in her artificial voice "If you've got any ideas on what we should do now I'd love to hear them, but it looks like Obligations Press has just gone under, they've already got all our stuff in their ship, and they did just half-kill themselves to get us out unharmed. Maybe - just maybe - we havn't got much choice on what to do next? Stop being so paranoid."

Viren looked prepared to explode over the paranoid remark, but X-1 stepped forwards and pressed a stack of Virens' personal possession into his hands. "You didn't seem to have much, but what you did have we did our best to keep safe for you. We have food in the back of the ship if you are hungry, and there is a bed you are also free to use. It will take us some time to get to Azguard, to are advised to relax."

Viren, for lack of any response and indeed without the strength to argue any further, nodded mutely, and lay down, watching the Azguards cautiously from his hammock. What was he going to do?