Recent content by Arturo Solus

Fashionably late doesn't quite cut it, Arturo thought, walking into the clubhouse half a minute after Drace, the lightest of steps carrying him to the room where his vode awaited. He held his helmet in the crook of his arm as he strolled through the building, the voices of old friends growing...

It didn't take Arturo long to reach the top of the crag, sweat trickling down his brow, his chest heaving from exertion. The stone, sun-baked and jagged, scorched his palms as he climbed, making his ascent all the more precarious. For a time he didn't think he'd make it; the gear he was hauling...

Arturo fired off another burst of cannon fire as he swooped in behind the first freighter, lasers aimed once more at the thrusters. The bolts, like before, struck true, disabling the enemy ship's ability to move and maneuver in a blast made of raw energy and shrapnel. He watched as the...

They were within range of the castle in a couple of minutes and, like Koil, Arturo held his fire. The enemy ship -a Sith dropship, he reckoned- would likely have been the enemy's first means of escape once their grizzly work here was done, and the tracker was loathe to destroy such a tempting...

"Oh, yeah. You were." Arturo smiled, forgoing the need to berate himself for forgetting that little snippet of information. Of course they were both there, he thought, taking a sip of his whiskey, half the damn clan was. It wasn't his fault. The memory of that fateful day was clear in his...

Everything started to make sense as the trio's starfighters roared to life, appearing from the star-pocked blackness like some sort of mirage, only far more deadly. The gee-forces pushed him back into his seat as the thrusters heeded his command, taking him and -he assumed- his brethren from a...

Arturo, like Drace, was roughly a hundred meters or so to the other side of Koil, floating adrift with nothing but the dull thrum of his Bromeliad's life support systems working overtime and his thoughts to keep him company. Space lurked all around him, dark and infinite. It made him feel like...

The call to arms sounded loud and clear in Arturo's ear as he hung in low orbit over Alderaan, keeping in loose formation with his brother, Koil. The man wore anonymity like an old cloak, which was probably why he was flying a scout-class starfighter. They were hard to detect, Arturo heard...

Arturo nodded at Koil's answer, taking a slow pull of his drink, savoring the moment as Dan's Badger blindsided them. It had been a while since Arturo had even thought of the Field Marshal; Dan had been a good man in life, a good warrior, and by all accounts, he had met his end like a true...

Well, they'd done it, sorta. The Emperor was dead, killed by Mandalorians- the Mand'alor. The story differed depending on who you asked or what source you went to but the general consensus was that Raz, the glorious Mand'alor, had been the one to take him out. Arturo still couldn't quite believe...

Arturo supposed that was a sound idea, Koil's reply telling him all he needed to know. Raids took time to organize; reconnaissance and thorough preparation went hand-in-hand with success. Rushing headlong into an Op oft spelt disaster- there were so many ways it could go wrong. It could still go...

"Nada, SB." Arturo replied, switching lanes as they cruised through the city suburbs, the port and the outskirts beyond getting closer by the second. "These guys are punctual - left on time, and they're still on schedule." He took his eyes off the controls to gaze down at the dash, fiddling with...

Arturo sunk a little lower in his seat as he followed the followers, making himself comfortable as they cruised along. In control of a bog standard AM-7 Adventurer, he did his best to maintain distance as the two airspeeders turned and weaved through the dark skies of Malastere; he was just...

Arturo was mildly impressed as he wandered into the bar, a sly grin creasing the face behind his visor. The Charred Arch belonged to Burkhart Kelborn, he knew, and boy has he done a good job decorating, the tracker thought, making way for a family as they abandoned a table adorned with empty...

Arturo kept quiet as the elevator began to rise. Nursing his wounded thigh, he counted his heartbeats, each throb making his ribs ache as the metal coffin they were in continued to climb. He was fortunate. Any other armor might not have done the job, and he would've died along with the guards...