Entries When Cody Looks Up "Toad" On The Encyclopedia Obi-Wan Kept In The Negotiator's Database:

Entries when Cody looks up "Toad" on the encyclopedia Obi-Wan kept in The Negotiator's database:

Oggdo Bogdo (Bogano) filed by Jedi Master Eno Cordova, scholar and archaeologist

Worrt (Tatooine) filed by Padawan learner Anakin Skywalker, Year c. 7945's Boonta Eve champion

*the command batch group chat* Cody: Which animal do you think you could take in a fight? Wolffe: How much time do you have Rex: oh my god Fox: Toad Cody: Elaborate Fox: no

Fox and Bacara first and foremost trusting the other hardass brothers in the army isn't explored enough! You don't become the most decorated and most ferocious commanders by befriending others easily. I'm sure they could relate to eachother on various levels even if they are fighting completely different front lines.. give them some serene moments!

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way

Glimpse - Star Wars Jedi : Survivor (PS5)

A dazed Fox wakes up confused and alone with no functioning comm tools. Maybe it's not so bad to just lie down for a bit longer?

The artificial sunlight tricked his mind into believing feeling a subtle warmth on his exposed skin. The shallow breaths he took fueling bitingly cold somewhat sour air into his lungs told him otherwise. There was no smell or sound besides an eerily muffled gust of wind rustling along the heavy fabric of his kama. Strangely everything around him felt light and confusingly clear. No underlying pain in his temples, no insistent hunger in his stomach, no sticky sweat on his face trapped under a unmovable mask consisting of layers of duty, anxiousness and guilt.

Awareness creeping into his mind, he slowly started wondering where he was. The time didn't really matter, it was clearly some hours into the day cycle and he should probably tend to a duty someone brother now would have to cover in his stead. Thinking about leaving his work to someone else finally provided a string for his wandering thoughts to hold on to. Before trying to peel his eyes open he slowly started moving his fingers. Bending them one by one and relaxing again he didn't notice any strains. Continuing to take stock of the state of his body all he noticed was relaxed muscles and the desire to drift back into oblivious sleep.

Then the light before his closed lids started to dimm. He took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes to the sight of a cloudless orange tinged sky. With each intake of breath the weight returned to his limbs and chest. He recognized this view from the many trips around the upper levels on Triple 0. He did not recognize the silence. Slowly he turned his head to the right. Ok that hurt quite a lot. His bucket lay just out of reach mockingly facing his way, the dark visor mirroring his dazed eyes back at him. He should really try to reach for it and check his comms. But the crack running through the deep red plastoid already told him he'd definely need to schedule a trip to the armory and get a replacement. What a waste. Slowly he tried to lift his wrist comm into his line of sight only to stare into a empty slot on his vambrace. Maybe he should start worrying?

Before any (clearly unwarranted ?) thoughts of panic which would not lead to any solution could form he caught a glimpse of one of his blasters lying a few spaces next to his bucket. As much as knowing a weapon near probably increased his safety it was the barely noticable charm embedded into the handle he zeroed in on and was able to anchor his thoughts to. Surely his commanders were looking for him. Maybe he could just lay here for a bit longer and give into the urge to close his eyes again without risking to freeze to death once night settled in. Right?

Thire furiously leapt across the roofs of Coruscant. Why didn't Fox pick up any of his calls. His CO was not allowed to leave here without him, he would not take over the worst post of the whole corps after staying alive for two years on this cursed assignment - no chance.

His HUD pinged a notification that he was now close to the location his Marshall Commander had last been tracked at. Taking the indicated sharp left and skidding to a stop abruptly he almost missed the timing to make the last jump. He wasn't carless but seeing an unmoving brother flat on his back, the familiar dark brown curls surrounded by a dark substance stopped his heartbeat for a second before it came back in full force, trying to leap out his chest. No no no. What the kriff happened to never removing your helmet!

Thire closed the remaining distance in no time already kneeling down beside Fox while reporting the need for a medical evac over his wrist comm. His voice was steady, it didn't betray any of the worry clutching at his heart. The young commander knew better than to try and move someone with an obvious head injury so he forced himself to not do anything more than ripping off his gloves to feel for a pulse. It took a few seconds to register the faint but steady drum under his finger pads.

Only after taking a deep breath he registered how eerily alone they were up here. There was no real sign of a fight, but Fox bucket was destroyed and his comm was missing. His favorite blaster lay off to his side and Thire reached for it in an instance. The magazine was still full. His thumb lingered on the customized handle slowly tracing the pattern to distract himself from the rising pressure in his chest. The medics' eta of 2 minutes before touchdown flashed across his HUD. He redirected all communication to his vambrace and unsealed and lifted off his bucket. The air was crisp and slightly sour in his nostrils. His eyes fixated on the relaxed face of his oldest brother. Strangely even surrounded by blood the expression didn't seem out of place at all. Before the pressure in his chest could build any further Thire started counting the barely noticable freckles dotted across the tan complexion of Fox nose and cheeks.

Thire used the biggest tooka eyes to convince his fellow commanders that adding a totally harmless little charm to their favorite blasters would go unnoticed by everybody but him. Stone, Thorn and Fox folded like wet flimsiwork when he presented them with his selfmade trinkets begging them to accept a gift of their youngest commander. They didn't know he put a tracking device into it linked to and traceable only from his HUD. It was his best work yet.

Ohhhhh! Thank you for adding another perspective. Why did I read the timeline wrong? My bad! But I've never picked up on the possessive connotations and now this will live in my brain again.

Assuming the inhibitor chips are designed to surpress emotional processing / responses and not just free will it's interesting to think about how Fox was angry before Order 66.. or maybe a malfunction during his chip's activation escalated his unhinged behavior further.. or maybe he wasn't angry at all but a prematurely activated chip made him act like a competitive angry overachiever. So many options!

(Außerdem hallo German speaking folks, kinda didn't expect to meet you in this small corner of the internet)

Fuchsteufelswild

German, adjective, literally: Fox - Devil - Wild

Grimm Dictionary volume 4, column 357 (Leipzig, 1878): “so upset that it seems like you’re with the devil”

This leaves two interpretations

Fox mad as hell is unstoppable and therefore might just as well have sealed a deal with the Devil Sith Lord sacrificing his soul to fend off any danger to his corps and operating wildly out of jurisdiction with no apparent consequences ever (The Corries are actually profiting of a corrupt system, after all only they know how to fill tons of flimsiwork in time and they're not opposed to using loop holes nobody ever realized were there to protect their unhinged Marshall Commander)

Fox is always livid when he's with the Devil Chancellor, something about that old man set off his inner alarm bells the second he read the assignment papers for his posting on Coruscant and it only keeps ringing louder with every observation once he's in the same room as his CO and no way to escape (Serving corrupt senators and clonephobic natborns lowers Fox inhibitions to not just go bad shit crazy so he throws himself into "friendly" competitions with his GAR brothers earning him way too many military awards and decorations for someone not stationed on the front lines. Also seriously who kriffing includes an extravagant roll when charging into a rescue mission)

Not sure how Basic and other Galactic languages actually compare to real life languages but I am convinced nobody should feel safe from Fox' wrath, not even the devil Chancellor himself the Commander has to report to

It's also interesting to note that the emphasis on "devil" being the dangerous and angry identificator of the compound changed to a "fox" centric interpretation in modern days (mostly referring to wild foxes being dangerous when they're sick with rabies), so the fox is perceived as more of a threat than the devil

Fox is scouting the holonet and sliced databanks for planets suitable to hide troopers facing decommissioning. Confined to Coruscant he asks Bacara for help not realizing his brother had already started to establish a safe space to sent the troopers deemed "not fit" to serve with the Marines to

He'd never seen snow. His eyes were open wide reflecting the earnest wonder the rest of his face didn't convey. The hand previously cardling his fist clutching his encrypted comm close to his heart slowly reached towards the colorless cristalls dancing in the cold air, palms facing towards the grey sky offering more and more of its frozen tears. It was bitingly cold, so cold that their breaths were visible.

They had stepped down the ramp in silence, not announcing their arrival was the safest thing to do. Their dark hair, brows and lashes were already contrasted by white decorations of snow flakes after a few moments of standing still. His eyes began to slowly crinkle in a smile, it was subtle but noticable to anyone who knew what to look for. The few who had seen his smile in the private quarters they had shared back when all of them had still worn blues. Tilting his head towards the one man at his side, Fox closed lips turned upwards and his signature dimples appeared on his slightly gaunt cheeks.

"It smells so nice."

Bacara had never realized how being stationed on Triple Zero meant more than the pressure of working constantly surrounded by natborns. The Guard would've met more cultures and races during their service than any other corps. But they were also working on the planet with the least natural phenomena present, the least space to decompress. The endless jungle of buildings, durasteel floors and artificial skies did a poor job at imitating the galaxy's vastness. It was a poor attempt of representing cultures when there was no room to actually express those in a shared experience even one as simple as maybe gardening. Unless you were karking rich of course. He briefly pondered if all his brothers in the Guard got to know were the everlasting Kaminoan rain and the Coruscanti sunny weather simulation. Then he nodded slowly.

Fox was directly facing him, his eyes closing fully now, while he kept breathing in the clear air deeply as if he had been deprived of it before. He didn't even flinch at the shriek of a local bird but for once seemed to enjoy being oblivious. Existing in this very moment, he looked serene and trusting and safe. The bucket was clipped to his belt and the rest of the cold assault armor he'd lent from the 21st did nothing not hide the warmth Fox radiated into this private moment shared between two brothers. Bacara swore to himself then and there he would find a way to confide in the other commanders to one day gather them to witness the peace of their own secret safe space.

I just think Fox and Bacara would make a terrific (and probably terrifying) duo. But they could also be the best frenemies in the "I am the only one allowed to shit talk about this idiot" way