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#vulture droid
star-wars-forever · 1 year
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Naboo Battle
by Rick Grayson
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grayrazor · 2 months
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There are people who say that Clone Wars era starfighters were broadly better than Imperial ones, but in the movies at least, TIE Fighters have a way better K/D ratio than Vulture Droids. Nine TIEs took out 26/30 Rebel fighters over Yavin, while after the Droid Control Ship exploded there were at least half of the ~14 Naboo fighters left despite going up against hundreds of droids.
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nemesisthetoy · 2 years
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I can’t be the only one that thinks these guys should have been used as walkers more often.
Also, why are they so cute?!
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vincentiswatching · 1 year
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hobo-dante-ex · 1 year
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cellaspider · 27 days
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New art just dropped. I made this like, a week ago but didn't feel like taking it out of my backpack until now.
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whatgoesthroughmyhead · 7 months
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those things are pretty lie I'm not gonna cool
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sw5w · 7 months
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The Occupation of Theed
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STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:20:52
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rochenn · 2 months
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Once you notice that the Empire's (and by extension the Republic's) military capabilities are modeled roughly after irl 1970s advancement you can't unsee it. Super embarrassing for the Separatists (90s/00s equivalent technology) to do so badly against an enemy whose honest to god go-to for air-to-air combat is dogfights 💀
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im-no-jedi · 2 years
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so this is the Clone I’m playing in the SW TTRPG rn, in a nutshell
his name is Quickdraw and he likes to shoot things; in fact, that’s all he likes to do really 😂
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mayozilla-art · 1 year
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novembermurray · 9 months
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Everyone: Hey Cal, why don’t you just cut open doors with your lightsaber?
Cal: Once I saw some clones try to open a door with a laser torch. There was fuel leak on the other side. The explosion took out the entire port engine.
Cal: Prauf and I found a door cut open with a lightsaber, about a four foot diameter hole. We’d spent a week stripping sensor banks, the big ones. They didn’t fit through the hole, and the door was welded shut, so we had to move them by mag-cart. Half our cut for the salvage went to the cart rental because of that broken door. That was a hungry month.
Cal: Heard about a Jedi who got sucked into space cause he cut holes in all the bulkheads, then a vulture droid punctured the hull. Bad way to go if you ask me.
Cal: My Master would tell me there’s always another path; the foolish force their way through while the wise walk around. He also said it was a good way to get shot in the back. Can’t block blaster fire if your saber is stuck in the door.
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doc-equation25 · 4 months
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Star Wars Starships
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nemesisthetoy · 2 years
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Something a little different, I wanted to show off what I would consider to be the perfect Lego Battle Pack (for me)
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included:
1x Vulture Droid build (104 pieces)
3x B1 Battle Droids (6x3 pieces)
1x B2 Super Battle Droid (4 pieces)
Total piece count: 126
5-6 stickers
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z-socks · 2 months
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He Soars
*banging my fists, chanting: winged Clones winged Clones winged Clones Crosshair-centric, some mild body horror when discussing Echo because Techno Union. Also the Empire being assholes. Season 2 spoilers (The Outpost).
Crosshair had always hated his wings. They were large, dark, laborious things, with rough feathers that had cut him more than once until he learned to keep them away from his body. The copious, smothering down choked him in the night, suffocating him with heat and irritating fuzz down the back of his throat. 
The Regs all had the same wings: something akin to the shriek hawks of their Template’s home. They were shiny, patterned in golden hues like the Clones’ eyes and shaped and sized to be useful in battle. 
Clone Force 99 did not have the wings of the Regs. Hunter's were slim and cut, rounded with specialized feathers that made his approaches from the air lethally silent. Tech's were scooped and agile, designed for soaring and diving sharply while in flight. Wrecker’s were the only wings comparable to Crosshair's in size. But they were pure white with imposing flight feathers and capable of being beat with deadly force. 
Crosshair's wings were useless. 
A sniper with wings impossible to hide was not a very useful asset. So he learned early on how to make them work for him. He learned to stick to shadows and use them to hide, to lash out a wing and cut down a droid, to let his brothers crush his suffocating down by curling against him when the endless stretches of space got cold. 
And then came Kaller and the order and the girl. 
His brothers left. 
The Empire deemed the Clones’ wings an annoyance. Their size was hard and expensive to accommodate for in their standardized barracks. Their down clogged the life support filters. And their feathers’ rustling impeded on the other troopers’ sleep. 
A suggestion to have them removed was met with a counterpoint. Why spend the money on surgery? Just remove the Clones. 
Cross watched Regs disappear from the ranks. His eyes catching the way their wings sagged, unstretched and unflown, atrophying in the grip of the new Empire. His own wings felt heavier these days, causing him to haunch over from their weight. 
He was one of six Clones sent to Barton-IV to retrieve a shipment that had been held there. His squad ran into his wings on purpose, complaining under their breath about having no room on the transport and how he should be with the other beasts. 
Cross shrugged it off. 
It was far from the first time he’d been likened to a monster. 
Clone Commander Mayday’s wings were the second worst pair Crosshair had ever seen, only beat out by Echo’s when they’d rescued him from Anaxes: nearly bald, half blown off, and bent wrong from being stuffed into a stasis chamber with no room for them. The smell of decaying feathers had emanated from the corporal. And Mayday and his brothers had the same stench. 
Their feathers were molting, ragged as they clung on by sickly quills. Strips of fabric like that on their armor were looped and tied to fill in the bare spots. Even their color looked faded but Cross wasn’t sure if that had more to do with the dim light provided by the coilheater. 
“What’s your name?” he asked Crosshair, the first person in too many cycles to do so. Cross hesitated. But this was a dead man walking, giving him a name that would likely die on his tongue within a tenday was harmless enough. 
“Crosshair.” 
The Reg nodded. “Follow me.” 
They inspected their meager equipment. Mayday showed him all that was broken. 
A large shadow passed overhead. The call of a monstrous bird. 
“Ice vulture,” Mayday informed, eyeing Crosshair. “Vicious creatures. But you have to admire them. They find a way to survive.” 
Then came the raid. Their hunt. The ice cave. 
“No sense carrying dead weight.” 
Mayday hummed. “'Less you need to to survive.” 
Crosshair shot him a puzzled look. 
“Them vultures carry dead weight all the time.” He shrugged. "Gotta eat."
The mine. The raiders. The avalanche. 
“Mayday.” His voice nearly broke as he dug the commander out of the snow. He’d lost more feathers in the onslaught, fresh skin exposed and bleeding on the patches left behind. 
The climb was excruciating. The wind sliced through them. 
When they finally found enough of an outcropping to shelter behind, Cross folded his wings around them, for once, grateful for the excessive down. The rough feathers kept the snow and ice from building up. Their size big enough to protect them both from the blistering winds. 
“I remember you, you know,” Mayday whispered against his neck. “The clone with the big black wings.” He huffed a choked off laugh. “Mean little thing. But I knew better. I’d seen you fly.”
A memory came forward, fuzzy, hazy in the whiteout snow. The training room on Kamino had been tall enough to allow them to practice aerial maneuvers. Crosshair’s monstrous wings had never fit in the crowded space with the Regs. But late at night, he’d sneak out to fly.
“The command cadet.” 
He remembered now, getting caught one night by an older cadet in red. But the cadet had let him off easy, saying lightly that it was past bedtime. Cross had waited to be punished for sneaking out. But the CC cadet had merely left the training room to continue his assigned patrols. 
“Bet you’d never dream this be how you found out ya belong here,” Mayday murmured, huddled in close to Crosshair, buried deep into the soft down of his wings. 
Cross quietly inquired what he meant but Mayday had lost consciousness once more. 
The storm stopped with the sunrise. An Ice Vulture circled overhead.
The climb was no less difficult. And Mayday’s exhaustion meant Cross was walking for them both. He used his wings, flapping them to help propel their steps. 
It felt… good. Like he was made for this.
His wings had room, could stretch fully. The wind ran through his down and along his sharp flight feathers. It caught them occasionally, beckoned them to fly. 
They reached the outpost. They collapsed and Crosshair begged for help. 
The Lieutenant refused. 
Mayday was going to die. 
The shot. The chaos that followed. 
But he was made for this. 
He took out some of the troopers and command first, single shots. He was a sniper after all, even from the ground instead of in his nest. The Clones charged him and he switched it to stun. 
Good soldiers follow orders. He had. Mayday had. They had. And they were still considered dead weight. 
A stolen shuttle, Mayday hastily loaded in the back, the rest of the scattered imperials on their tail. 
But he was made for this. 
A sharp dive like that of scooped agile wings. A silent approach from behind like that of specialized feathers. A shot to their flank, percussive like beating pure white wings. 
They fell from the sky. 
He soared. 
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piecesofeden11 · 4 months
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‼NEW STORY ALERT‼
✨Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the Secret of the Star Brick✨
Under the following cut, you will find the first installment of a Fever Dream. This idea is four days late and I'm rapidly playing catch up as I'm writing this, but I hope it will bring a smile to your faces 😁 This whole thing will be up on Ao3, too, at a later point and I'll share the link soon, of course! For now, enjoy! <3
It was baffling. One moment, Anakin was soaring through space, executing a perfect barrel roll, catching five vulture droids by surprise and blowing them to beautiful, sparkling smithereens. The next, Artoo was screaming in his ear pieces as space turned to blinding, swirling colors and then everything went black.
There were only flashes of the rest, the strange landscape passing by, the weird monument coming closer and closer, before he got one last warning yell from Artoo as the droid deployed the emergency ejector seat. Droid and Jedi alike sailed through the air as the ship smashed into the ground under them. Only thanks to his sharp reflexes, did Anakin manage to twist in the air just enough to land relatively smoothly on his feet. Artoo's went careening further, his screams almost comically deformed by his flight path, then came a crash and then silence.
Panic gripped Anakin for a second, but then he could hear disgruntled beeps from not too far away. If he could cuss, he was fine, so Anakin turned his attention to a more pressing problem for the time being.
His starfighter had seen better days for sure. Nothing Anakin could not fix, but certainly enough for them to be grounded for a few days. One wing had come clean off and a few studs and bricks were strewn about.
"Kriffing kung dag," Anakin muttered under his breath, surveying the damage and, in a fit of annoyance, kicked one of the bits of debris. "Shutta, kriffin' flark! When Obi-Wan finds out about this, I'll never hear the end of it."
Another displeased serious of chirps and whistles from the nearby bushes drew Anakin's attention away from what was left of his ship for a moment. Right. Artoo.
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Following the increasingly vulgar volleys of binary, Anakin soon found the droid lodged firmly in what appeared to be a large tree of sorts, domed head down.
"Yo, buddy, what're you doing up there?" Anakin grinned, receiving a few choice words in response, while he lifted his droid out of his predicament, gently floating him back to the ground.
The moment Artoo's wheels hit the ground, he was off, racing towards the ship and beeping in distress. "Yeah, bud, it looks bad but I'm sure we can fix it. Common, let's see what we're dealing with and get to work."
A few hours passed, spent in the familiar chaos and efficiency of tinkering and repairing, Anakin had just lodged himself under the torn wing flap, when Artoo whistled a sharp warning. A second later, a high-pitched whine tore across the sky above them, followed by a booming crash.
Anakin pushed himself out from under the wing, reaching through the Force for his lightsaber, readying himself for a possible attack. Artoo, in similar readiness, brandished every weapon his system allowed him to have.
When the dust cleared, it revealed another ship, similarly fated as Anakin's own. Although it was flipped and had also sustained severe damage to hull and wing, Anakin was pretty sure that it was a Delta-7 Aethersprite. He could not help a low, appreciative whistle. "An actual vintage. Rare to see these days", he told Artoo. "Obi-Wan used to fly one of those." His musing were interrupted, when a cloaked figure emerged from the wreckage, turned away from Anakin and Artoo.
Anakin was about to call out to them, when the bushes above the figure began to quiver and shake and then slowly, just as Artoo had a few hours ago, an astromech droid hovered to the ground, it's red painted dome rotating wildly. A Force user, then. Anakin tightened his grip on his saber. "Turn around! And no sudden movements!", he shouted, while mentally and physically preparing for a fight. "I'm not telling you again, pal."
The figure froze for a moment, and so did the red astromech, before slowly turning around, their face still hidden by a cowl. Yet something about them seemed so familiar.
Blue erupted from the lightsaber the person had suddenly procured, brandished in a defensive stance, that looked even more familiar and Anakin's gut began to twist with a sudden, and rather odd premonition.
The person slowly lifted a hand to flip back their cowl and Anakin dropped his own saber, as his hand went slack in shock.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Hello there! Do I know you?"
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"I-" Anakin paused. He took in the man in front of him. It was clearly Obi-Wan, but he was still sporting his longer hair, his beard not quite as refined as Anakin was used to it. The Aethersprite slotted itself into the equation. "In a manner of speaking, yeah."
"Well that doesn't sound ominous at all, does it?" Obi-Wan looked around, his brow creasing in what Anakin knew well as annoyance, when he looked at the wreckage of his ship. "What a mess. R4, can you fix that?" "I can!", Anakin blurted out, before R4 - of course it was R4 - had a chance to reply. "I mean, I can help, for sure. So can Artoo, he-" He noticed his mistake just a blink too late.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened and his gaze flickered past Anakin to where Artoo had, thankfully, withdrawn his arsenal. "Artoo? R2D2?" Artoo beeped a confirmation. Obi-Wan's eyes whipped back at Anakin, scrutinizing, then his mouth fell open in shock. "Anakin?!"
Anakin shrugged awkwardly and lifted a hand. "Hi?"
"Okay, what in the blazes is going on here? Where are we?" Ah, yes. This Obi-Wan was still a little more prone to outbursts, had not yet mastered himself quite as much as Anakin's own version had. It was oddly refreshing.
"I haven't figured that out just yet, to be honest. I tried fixing my ship first." Anakin gestured at the pile behind him. "And then you came down and well, that's been that. There is that giant thing over there, though. Maybe that could give us a clue."
They both looked over at the structure that loomed not too far from their joint crash site. It looked unlike anything either of them had ever seen, that much was certain.
"Interesting", Obi-Wan muttered, and lifted a hand to stroke his face, a gesture almost painfully familiar. "Perhaps a religious site? Or remnants of an ancient civilization. Those markings -"
"They look like numbers to me. And those crevices? Could be doors. Or windows? Something like that. It also-"
They both paused, eyes fluttering shut almost simultaneously. "It's radiates Force energy like crazy."
"It certainly does, doesn't it? Curious. We should-"
Before Obi-Wan could finish that sentence, however, Anakin was already halfway up the structure, heading for the door, or window, with what he figured could be the number 1. It was were the Force emanated from the strongest. Obi-Wan's faint, exasperated Anakin, fell on deaf ears.
"Let's see here, maybe if I push it like this and then twist. Hah! There we go!" The door gave in quickly, the material rather odd to the touch, thinner than expected and despite the sheen not even remotely resembling durasteel or plastoid. Behind the door he found a dark chamber, smelling faintly of wood and something resin-like. Carefully crawling inside, his legs soon connected with something.
Reaching out with the Force, his senses slid along a strange substance, that seemed to yield and crinkle under the pressure. When, after a few moments, nothing had attacked him yet, he put out his hands and took a hold of the material. Then, he pulled, until half of it was out the door. Crawling back into the space, he used the Force to push whatever it was further out.
He caught a brief glimpse of a transparent container of sorts and the frightened stare of someone inside, before it slid over the edge of the chamber towards the ground. "Kriff!" Sprinting towards the edge, he saw Obi-Wan holding out his hands just in time to catch the container before it could shatter.
The muffled yells inside of it grew louder.
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