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Captain's Log, 1,019.3 ABY
It's been rough. On me, and the crew. With the Empire spreading its corrupt, greedy claws across the galaxy, we've been more hard-pressed than ever in avoiding the authorities. Every damn transport ship passing through independent territory nowadays has a hundred and one laser cannons, and the only thing they carry is arms and ammunition for that damn Siege. The boys are getting antsy, and I don't blame them. They talk of joining the war effort... but they never would. Not truly. They're mine, no matter how much they banter about which side is winning.
The Arrancadora... scourge of free men and women the same, terror of both Sith and Jedi space. Home to some of the wildest, rowdiest, and most successful pirates in the known galaxy. And led by the most notorious of them all... Captain Ava Kaelos. A renowned starship pilot and fleet commander, her naval abilities are matched by few, and her charm rivalled by even fewer.
Captain's Log, 1,019.5
We were accosted by a military freighter today. They tried to pursue. Idiots. We slaughtered them. When we boarded the life-support-less hulk... I... we don't talk about it. Not any more.
Captain's Log, 1,019.8
The siege draws on. They find soldiers from all walks of life. Carted to the aquatic planet and given a rifle and something to shoot at, they die in droves. Families left behind, without a credit to their name. Boys and old men all the same, sent to their doom for a cause led by the disgusting Force-users against, you guessed it, more Force-users. Arrogant bastards, the lot of them, using the comman man as the pawn in their wars that they themselves don't even fight. And the boys talk of joining them. Now I'm not so sure they won't.
The Siege of Manaan begins to draw to a close. As the Empire begins to deploy its new waterborne weaponry, the public's opinion towards the lengthy encirclement sways largely. More and more warriors are sent to the front lines as the men and women of the Empire sign up to fight for their "freedom," and to crush the "terrible" insurrectionist party of the Remnant.
Captain's Log, 1,020.4
No-one tries to hide their plans for joining the Jedi and their lapdogs. They talk openly of how they should go about it, whether we should abandon the Arrancadora and the title of pirates, or enlist as freelance mercenaries. Piracy's become a useless trade now. There's no-one travelling the hyperlanes these days, except for the military. We don't engage those any longer.
Captain's Log, 1,021.7
They're dead. All of them. I fought. I did. I fought to the end. He... he dashed me aside like a fleck of dust. He dashed all of us aside. I told them not to engage the ship. I TOLD THEM! But... they didn't listen... they never did, not then. We all fought. We all lost. And I, only I survived. It's a curse.
Most people think that to live while others die is a gift, but it isn't. I wish I had died that day. Died with a vibrosword in my hand, my men all 'round. It would've been a tale fit for a song. They would've drank to me in their cups. But now, who am I? The pale remains of something once brighter than any of the hundred and one Empires or Republics. I've got nothing to live for. Nothing worth fighting for. I shouldn't have lived.
But I did, and woe be to those who now face the Arrancadora's Wrath.
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