A New Hope

[Placeholder 0133]

The job was to give Spark some breathing room. In hindsight, he might have gone about doing that in a different way. The reality of the situation was much less to the soldier's liking.

"Could have fooled me, boss," he shot back. A hint of amusement laced his words, though his mirth quickly left him as a wall of white made poured out of every door within the compound. "Just keep the lights on Spark. It's hard to match your partner's steps in the dark," his voice wavered. The GA was facing heavy resistance, though it was slowly overwhelming the First Order defense.

The problem was that it was highly unlikely any other men or women of the GA would arrive in time to help bolster Rook's efforts. He'd have to do this on his own. Spark was vulnerable. Luckily, with his gold visor reflecting back at them, Rook mad for a more tangible target. Especially when he started hurling thermal detonators down the hall.

The two orbs skittered along the floor just as the Stormtroopers began to take aim. The resulting explosion shook the compound, and knocked out more than a few of those lights Rook had talked about. Four smoldering bodies lay motionless across the scorched earth, but more appeared to replace them. Highly trained or not, Rook could not repel twenty men.

But he could certainly try.

The First Order soldiers had the disadvantage of having to cross a straight hall to get a shot off. Rook was in a similar situation, but he was in a position to shoot first. The first man to fire at him fell with a smoldering hole in his chest, though his own shots had hit home. The former Dreadguard grit his teeth as his mobility shield was quickly sapped by the blaster fire. Two more appeared, each meeting a similar fate as their first comrade. Rook had been lucky that time - they'd been too caught up in their friend's demise to shoot straight.

The eight men that followed were of a different mindset.

Lacking any conventional form of cover, Rook fell to a knee over the corpse of a fallen First Order soldier. He tried to make himself as small as possible, and at the same time return some form of accurate fire. A bolt caught him in the chest, and took its shields with it. Another seared through a phrik pauldron, though it did not pierce his flesh. A soldier fell, then another.

Rook's rifle clicked.

He reached for another magazine, only to have his fingers glide empty air where a blaster pack should have been. He was out.

With visible effort, he pushed up to his feet. It was hard to tell how many soldiers remained through the smoke and din. His rifle was slipped over his shoulder, and his sidearm in his hands a moment later. The DC-15 coughed out four bolts before one of the stormtroopers' shots struck him in the chest. Then another, and another.

The durasteel-phrik mix melted under the intense blaster fire. A bolt pierced his midriff, melting the steel to his flesh, while at the same time cauterizing the wound. He fell to a knee, one hand pressed instinctively to his wound, the other firing the little DC frantically into the fog. Some shape vaguely reminiscent of a man fell to the ground. Then another.

The firing stopped.

Rook hesitantly rose to his feet. If the soldiers remained, they weren't showing up on his scans. It offered him a needed reprieve - without bacta to stabilize the wound, he would have likely fallen into shock. Maybe worse. Removing his helmet, Rook jammed the single syringe he carried into the vein on of his neck. The relief was not instant, but it numbed the pain with a few moments' time. He certainly wasn't in perfect condition, and would need to be treated afterword, but he could continue fighting.

"We good?" He asked through heaving breaths as he eased his helmet back on.

[member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

"If you're clear get down here!" Jacen shouted. The Sith cultist flopped to the ground before him, his spark fading from the Force. "We have dark side adepts and it's a maze down here!"

 

[Chevu Visz]

The jungle was hot, humid, and smelled of death. The assault on the Sith temple was underway, and as the Masters of the New Jedi Order pressed ahead, blades clashing with the Sith of the Final Order, Chevu veered off in a slightly different direction. There were lightsiders in the temple somewhere. The Mirialan Jedi Knight could feel their wan signatures, fading beacons of hope radiating through a fog of the dark side. They must have been prisoners, perhaps wearing Force containment collars to keep them subjugated. She rued the kind of state that she would find them in, but the idea of freeing them, as she herself had been freed, filled her with a new drive.

She wound through the temple, carefully padding through through hallways, descending a cold, stone stairwell covered in gray-green moss. The Force felt alive within her, possibly from the added influence of [member="Adele Adonai"]'s meditations. Another corner was rounded, and suddenly Chevu found herself face to face with a hooded apprentice. Both women gasped almost comically. In one fluid motion, Chevu ignited Master Oomomo's light blue saber, and took on the opening stance of Soresu, as Cyril Grayson had taught her. As was the Jedi way, she would let the other woman make the first move.

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Relit Vandal"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Rook"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

She unplugged the datapad and gave Rook a sharp nod. "Yeah, I can control the station systems now." Blue-eyes finally registered his hunched form. "Well, chit. You gotta stay alive for that drink, too."

A sealed-door a yard or so down from Rook popped open. "But I got you an early present." It was the door to the armory. She hit her comm to Coren, fishing out her blaster. #notgraduatedtoblasterrifleyet Thin-finger hit the comm to Coren. "I've got control of the station and Rook's cleared out this level. He's...um....he got hit but still standing. What's your sitrep?"

She gave a silent nod to Rook. This time, she had his back. An invisible bubble expanded around him in the force as a protective force-shield should anymore plasteels come around the corner.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

There was a scary amount of words in [member="Rook"]’s post. But they were all so good. It made Corey a bit fearful of his own writing, but sometimes he pulled out a decent post. Not with that font size though. When he started making his way down the steps, he could hear the explosion rip through the building. That was never a good sign. Sure, his mind immediately went to [member="Spark Finn"]’s safety, but he knew the Guard was with her. And Rook was a solider, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him.

Speeding up, taking a few steps at a time, he checked the load in his scatter gun. He hurried down the steps when the first call came through, the one from [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]. “Copy, Voidstalker, on our way.” Well, he would be as soon as his team assembled. The trio of fighters were all covering one another, Rook being the brawler-tank, Coren the kite and Spark would be the engineer, keeping everyone fighting. Not medic because she was a girl, but because that was her situation and skill set.

“Roger that, Spark. I’m… floor two. Get him into cover. Can you get us a map of the station?” He hopped the last railing, and swung the door open, cautiously coming into the hallway. “Y’all ok? Jedi need a rescue.”

No medi-gel here.

 

[Asahara Velin]

Asahara was outside Temples and outside tight halls she was outside facing down the retreating enemy so they would never overwhelm the forces. Through the trenches that the First order Siths backed off she dug herself deep on their own territory and started popping up to blast at the enemy whenever she could. She still had her shoulder gravely wounded but the pain from it was gone wit the adrenaline of warfare. She started to clear the backwater trenches surrounding the temple with a team of GA soldiers. "For The Alliance!!"
Troopers swarmed as they pinned down a defensive crew of Shock Troopers 10 yards away, a good range for the E-11 Blaster to do the best work it could. Reloading a powercell she was rolling down the trenches blasting everything that did not look friendly backed up by her loyal crew of GA soldiers the First Order was no match.

Pulling up a stiff defensive fight taking out a few of the guys beside her they were still able to take control of the trenches around the place and establish the grounds for another push. By now the First Order started to realize that there was no karking way they were taking these trenches back but someone forgot to tell them apparently because the karks kept on coming!
Another thermal detonation and another forced Asahara and her team to hit the deck and cover themselves... then they heard it... the sounds of Metal feet 4 tons heavy each. She had never seen one of those things before.
"WALKER!!"

The thing approached the trenches and was unleashing enough firepower from it's frontal guns that it broke the Earth holding the trenches, suddenly it was clear that walker was not alone, two more walker came by and with a battalion of First Order Troopers behind them. Asahara thought with her Lekkus for the first time in this fight and called in through her com. "Angel Specters one Four, this is Red Red we have walkers in the area and a major counter attack incoming i repeat, we have walkers and a counter attack from the north east plains latlon 56-34 get some birds down here or we are Toast!!"
Dropping her com she started dashing through the trenches as explosions from the walker fire rocked the very place she was walking as she tried to get a vantage point and hit the walker with a turret she saw on her way here.
[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Spark Finn"] [member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Rook"]​

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Had Rook been a normal being, he likely would have felt some sense of the protection Spark cast around him. Unfortunately, he was deaf to the force, and it to he. It had been a desperate decision that had destroyed the man he once was - the memory was quick and visceral.

He lay flat in the fields of Naboo. Blood spurted from his arm like a violent fountain. His legs were little more than pulverized bone with shattered durasteel to encase them. The sky was filled with fire and smoke as the native Naboo fighters clashed with the invaders. To his left, Rix's body lay motionless; his head blown clean off from the blast. To the right, a mess of twisted metal and burning fuel that had once been their transport.

The funny part? Rook wasn't even supposed to be there. He'd been en route to Onderon when some of the Prime Minister's spooks had asked for assistance. At the time, the Naboo monarchy had loose ties with the Republic. The queen's son was a member of the Jedi Order, or so he'd been told. So he and his team were sent to help the monarchy defend its world. The battle was a costly victory, resulting in the death of his closest comrade, and what might as well have been his own.

The droids had found him shortly thereafter, dragging them off to their ancient ship high above the battle. There, he and others like them had been changed. Brought back from the brink of death, and thrown back into battle for various galactic battles.

The memory served to strengthen his resolve. He'd survived so much already - was a blaster wound really going to slow him down?

No, it wasn't.

"Aww, you shouldn't have," he snorted, reaching down to remove a helmet from a soldier that wasn't going to need it anymore. "All I've got for you is this lovely hat. It's exotic. None of the other girls have it. You'll be the talk of the town. Setting fashion trends." He lazily tossed the thing in Spark's direction. He was too busy plundering the armory to notice whether she caught it or not.

There wasn't much. Well, in reality the place was stocked to the brim, but most of it was trash. Imperial issue crap. E-11's were horrid weapons for a man that spent most of his time moving. Luckily, most blaster packs were universal for weapons of the same general size. He managed to find a few magazines for his rifle, at the least.

"I'm only slightly hit. 'Tis only a flesh wound, sweetheart, I've had worse. You'll get your boyfriend all worried on his way down here." The door hissed as Rook shut it behind him. "He'll end up tripping down some stairs. Suddenly I'm the cause, and we've got an article fifteen. Then I'm spending the next thirty nights cleaning the 'freshers."

He stood up a a bit taller as he came into the hall. His wound still hurt like hell, but it wasn't the worst thing to happen to him in his twenty-five years.

Is that right? Twenty-five? No, it's not. Somewhere closer to twenty-three. I can't remember anymore.

His brow furrowed as he gathered his own thoughts. "...and I'd really rather not do that," he nodded at Coren as he made his entrance. "Jedi to save? Wouldn't be the first time. They've got a fetish for getting into situations they can't handle - in more ways than one."

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

[member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Jacen mopped up his opponent, and Cyril followed his lead. The two duelists that had thought it was a good idea to engage with him were slowly overpowered by the more experienced swordsman. One was left without a hand, the other was knocked unconscious with a powerful repulse of telekinetic energy.

"They on their way?" He asked quietly as the dismembered acolyte lost consciousness. They would live, and Galactic Alliance soldiers would surely find them very soon.

"It's not a party until the gang's all here."

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Jacen nodded, keeping a weary eye on his surroundings as he retrieved his hand cannon. The large pistol hard a good weight to it, a shame to have gone so far without being able to utilise it. His finger went to his ear and he opened his mic onto the net.

"Voidstalker here, we're at ground level. The artefact feels like it's directly below the centre of the Temple. Converge on our position as quickly as possible," he said. "Master Vandal, Grayson, I suggest we press on."

Reaching out with the Force only seemed to make the feel of the Dark Side stronger. Voidstalker closed himself off and relied on her more primitive senses to guide him deeper into the ziggurat. They were close now, the Dark Side constantly threatening to encroach on his mind. The corridor ahead appeared to open up into a wide chamber.

[member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Relit Vandal"]

 

[Spark Finn]

Lower lip jutted out in a concentrated frown half smirk at Rook's.....sarcasm? This guy was growing on her. Life and death situations tended to do that to strangers. #thuglyfe

She made no move to catch the proffered helmet. It hit the ground with a large clanking clatter and rolled to a stop at her side. As if she new anything beyond hipster fashion anyway. #yeahno #grosshelmetwasyucky

Pale-cheeks flushed at Rook's use of the b-word. "What? No. I mean. We're...we are seeing...we are dati...," cheeks flushed further. This was none of anyone's business, let alone in the middle of a battlefield!!!!!

#flusteredsparkwasflustered

#needafewdrinks

And of course with cosmic-timing, that's when Coren came bounding into their hallway. She pointed an accusatory finger at Rook, as if to blame him for some yet to be uttered accusation. Hand-lowered almost immediately, the blond slicer still speechless. "Right. The Jedi. We should go back them up." With a wriggle of her nose, a map of the temple they were in popped up on Coren and Rook's HUDs. The same one on her datapad.

"If I'm tracking Jace's comm right, he's this moving dot, here. These moving squares are any enemy with tech on them. If they don't have tech, I don't got 'em. I'm a technopath not an empath."

#duh

"Don't be square. Let's go make sure the circles win." #totallywentthere #badjokes #win. Converse-clad feet headed off toward that pinging, moving circle.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Rook"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

There was really no point in waiting. Swallowing that nagging anxiety at the back of his mind, Cyril stepped forward into the ziggurat. The corrosive presence of the dark side stalked the edges of his mind like a prowling beast. It would pounce on him the moment he let his guard down. That could not be allowed to happen. He drew in a deep breath; calmed himself. As his breath left him, those worrying feelings went with it.

He came to a sudden halt as they came to the entrace of a wide chamber. Whatever lay beyond was waiting for them. It would be so easy to turn and burn the place from orbit. For the third time today, Cyril found himself wishing they'd went down that gruesome path.

And then he didn't. It was not his own efforts that purged his doubts - it was someone else.

Battle meditation.

He had no clue it was [member="Adele Adonai"]'s doing, but he would thank whoever it was once they were out of here.

"Whatever awaits, we'll be ready for it. Vandal, Voidstalker, I have your back," he chimed; igniting his blue blade. "I don't think they'll be too pleased to see us. People get a little upset when you come knocking on their doors to spread your religion, and we knocked theirs down."

[member="Relit Vandal"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Right, so the next plan was to get the team moving. There were the forgotten NPCs but they were handling the flank, while [member="Rook"] and [member="Spark Finn"] lead Coren on his little crusade to save the day. It was a tough job but someone had to do it. And his team was strong, they were smart and they were getting things done. After this fight though? Drinks.

And maybe he’d actually relax once the battle was one. He wasn’t in charge, others could worry on the next engagement. Maybe that would change things, if he could find time to actually, relax with the girl-person. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t, this was Coren Starchaser after all, and the writer was trying to not transpose his own thoughts. That was if Coren survived, he was a Master and shipped, that meant he may get hit by a train.

Charlie the Choo Choo.

He looked at Spark with a bit of a concerned expression. “Map?” Map. Right, she was good. “Right, squares are bad. Circles good. Rook, you with us? How’s your ammo?” Man was hit, but didn’t seem that bad. Krogan.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

"Just don't get pregnant Sparky," Rook snorted, "I'm alright Starchaser; mag's wet, and the wound's only skin deep. Just another scar for the ladies." He stood up a little straighter and snapped off a sloppy salute to emphasize the statement. He'd had his legs turned to crushed meat and bone dust. A blaster wound wasn't going to stop him.

"That joke made you one of the squares, Sparky," the soldier huffed a quiet laugh, "Right. So we'll grab the Jedi, purge this temple, and burn atmosphere. Sounds like a good plan to me."

So long as I don't get shot again.

Rook took a moment to observe the map. The temple was confusing, most religious structures were, but they'd get by. Things were going to get close quarters, and the hostiles were going to be swinging lightsabers. Not for the first time today, Rook was happy he'd worn the armor with a phrik layer.

He was ready to move.

"Oh, and by the way Starchaser, I'm at fourteen."



[member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Adele Adonai"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Cyril Grayson"] [member="Relit Vandal"] [member="Chevu Visz"]​

Vaet was small, this was a fact. This fact enabled and disabled certain paths for him. For example he was not especially strong and did not possess a lot of reach - both traits that made it all but impossible to fight head-on against opponents that were physically and spiritually stronger than he was.

Stories told him that this could change in the future: when he had attained a certain mastery over the Force it would no longer matter, his physical limits would be surpassed by the sheer unlimited nature of the Force.

As it stood though? Vaet was far more useful in other roles. Such as infiltration. Whilst the Masters and Knights of the New Jedi Order assaulted the Final Order’s Temple, fought tunnel to tunnel in an attempt to secure prisoners and artifacts, Vaet had a different mission he had chosen for himself. It call came back to a conversation he had overheard a few days ago after the briefing.

The Final Order was recruiting youngsters to train a new generation of Force-sensitives to bolster their armies.

This notion had made Vaet sad, but from sadness had come resolve. Resolve which had spurred him to action the moment his feet had stepped onto the surface of this world. Such was why the following scene was not as surprising as you might first think.

“But the instructors told us clearly!” a high voice all but shouted in excitement. It’s owner was a little boy, maybe six or seven years old in all, and he was clutching a lightsaber that was not yet ignited.

Around him were other young, grimy faces - all possessing emotional stages which ranged from anger, to disbelief, to… maybe Vaet was only kidding himself. But he seemed to sense hope.

“And what did the instructors tell you, hmm?” the Vaetling ventured. He was sitting on a fallen pillar, which enabled him to look down on the assortment of younglings.

(Instead of having to look up)

“Anger is the source of true power! It will set us free and make us undefeatable.”

Ah. A variant of the Sith Code, then.

“What else did they promise, young acolyte?”

The first step was a systematic dismantling of all they were led to believe, but first he himself would need to know what they were taught.

 

[Relit Vandal]

He pressed inward, into the ziggurat, remaining complacent to the notions of fighting. Here, it would be the pause that fortified his strength, riding the pine in preparation for what would occur next. The monstrous construction seeped and bled the darkside, an uncouth collection of tendrils and aura, that mocked the very force with it's presence. Something so dilapidated, so molested and corrupted, could be nothing more than a mockery.

The Zelosian had long ago adapted to the weaknesses of his species, specifically that of sight in the dark. With the force at his aid, comrades at arms, he buffered himself upon rocky outcropping of resolve and vigilance. His was a mind of certainty, long ago losing any interest in the temptations of the the darkside. But even now, the artifact resonated with an appeal that he could appreciate. For those with less stalwart minds and hearts prone to the erosion of the darkside, the power to strip away conscious and care, the concern was there.

Amethyst beam ignited as they neared the entry way to the wide chamber, the stance not so much defensive as properly prepared. [member="Cyril Grayson"] and [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] near, Relit held out a partially gloved hand, touching the battle meditation, the waves pushing out from [member="Adele Adonai"].

"We must take care of our thoughts here. What lies in the dark will only remain for so long..." He spoke, searching the area ahead with a sight extending far beyond the physical world. He smiled at the words of the battle hardened Jedi Master. "No, they will find no pleasure in our meeting this day." Even a peaceful solemn tree must bend when the wind calls for it and Relit was all but beyond the hope that this could end in peace.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Relit Vandal"] [member="Cyril Grayson"]

The wide, circular chamber was rimmed by a wide platform. At the far side a series of steps descended into the darkness. Four acolytes lined the platform, masks turned towards the intruder. Jacen turned to the left, following the outer wall along the platform. They would need to reach the far side to descend safely to the artefact.

Then, as he prepared to engage his first enemy, he saw movement below. His eyes picked out a smooth stone object, akin to a sarcophagus. A robed figure approached it and laid a hand on it. Jacen saw those eyes look up to him from the depths. The wave of telekinetic force hit him like a speeder.

His saber dropped from his grip as he slammed into the round wall. The air was being expelled from his chest as the constant, relentless force ground him into the alabaster. A similar attack was levelled at the other intruders, as the Dark Side adept harnessed just a fraction of the artefact’s power.

Jacen watched an adept walk towards him cautiously, saber in hand. In his ear he heard the message broadcast to the entire battle network:

“The Hope can’t take any more damage. She’s jumping out. We need to finish this, now,” came the call.

First, Jacen needed to gather his strength to peel himself from the wall. The path to finishing the job could be considered after that.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Well that wasn't very good. None of this was particularly pleasant in any form or fashion -- save for the companionship of the two Jedi he accompanied. It was nice to be a part of a team again; small as it might be.

That bright thought was dashed away as a wave of telekinetic energy slammed into Cyril. He as sent tumbling up to the closest wall, biting back a curse as something popped in the center of his back. The pain was immediate; spreading through him like a shockwave. It ran to the tips of his fingers and back to his spine. For a moment, he worried his back had been broken. Luckily, he managed to wriggle about. It was a wound, but he was not disabled.

Still, the news about the Hope worried him. They needed to wrap this up quickly, as Voidstalker had said. Now was not the time for reservations.

Vandal had shown his prowess in controlling the life around him. Voidstalker had proven himself capable on the battlefield, and a good candidate for leadership. It ws time for Cyril to delve into what he truly was.

People had different views on the force. The Sith usually took to the idea that it was a tool of destruction. Some, such as the Jedi, used it as a shield, rather than a sword. Among these views were various deviations, and Cyril fell somewhere in the middle. He could not fling lightning at people, command the forests themselves, or inspire armies into battle.

The very essence of life was his workbench. The flesh, the sinew, the marrow in the bones, the very cells that made them up -- these were his tools. He reached out a shaking hand toward the adept approaching Jacen, and closed his eyes. The technique he used was similar to healing a friend. One could repair even the most greivious of injuries with the power of the force -- what most failed to understand was that the same power used to give life, could take it in a very similar way.

He focused on the adept's arm. Past the robes, the armor, and the flesh. He saw the muscles straining as the limb flexed, the sinew twisting to make the action possible. Then there was the bone. He looked beyond it, to the marrow deep within. Then he pushed. At first the bubble was tiny and insignificant, but it expanded steadily. It pressed outward, forcing the bone to expand. It creaked and fractured, and the bubble continued to grow. It pressed the muscle outward; skin stretched taught over the engorged limb. The pain the adept was likely in right now would be insurmountable, but Cyril paid it no mind. He wasn't going to kill the would-be Sith, but he would make him pay for his crimes. He would know the fear they'd caused so many others.

With a sickly snap, the bone exploded outward. The bubble burst, and the adept's arm exploded as if someone had stuck a thermal detonator within his limb. Cyril drew in a deep breath. Had they been in a duel of blades, he would not have had the focus to do such a thing, but the adepts had made a mistake. They'd allowed him a moment of peace.


[member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Relit Vandal"]

 

[Relit Vandal]

As he followed closely behind Jacen, Relit was taken surprise by the telekinetic amplification from below. Despite his species, he often kept his roots shallow, and wasn't one to linger. But as the lightsaber was knocked clean from the hand of the Knight, Relit could muster an understanding of what was coming next. Fundamental boundaries, the tie between him and the force, was overwhelmed by the proverbial loud speaker from the center of the chamber as it smacked him against the platform wall. And as he heard the words come over the communications, he suddenly understood the importance of brevity in this specific situation. His shoulder felt sore, more than before, and he realized that a previous close call had changed into something a bit more...touching. And with the burning etch of his saber against the wall, it extinguished for the safety of it.

Relit was a wanderer, training by his master in unorthodox combat. He didn't quite have military experience, though he had been fashioned in the same manner. To be a jack of his trades, he was capable even in the most desperate of situations with a mentality that existed outside of the box. Weaponry, thought processes, often differed from Jedi who had been around the Jedi Council and Order proper. Relit, self implemented banishment to the outer regions, where he was needed most, had left the man somewhat detached. And in cases like this, it could help or it could hurt.

From the leather holster hanging off his left hip, he struggled to remove the Dissauder KD-30 against the immense pressure of the telekinetic press. When it was removed, he didn't level it at the nearing adept but instead, struggled to aim the barrel towards the hooded figure near the sarcophagus. Barring his teeth, he pushed forward and through the fleeting pain, and depressed the semi-automatic trigger three times, each recoil exacerbated by the force of the constant pressure - like stabbing the tip of a tornado with a skewer. One for the shoulder, one for the other, and one towards the hand touching the sarcophagus. He wasn't prepared to kill this darksider, but he would hopefully inject a dose of regret for the actions taken.

It was all he could do to withstand the power, completely remiss towards the activities of the other Jedi Master. The snap, the break, the explosion of flesh and sinew: but white noise to the focus of the Jedi Master against what he considered the more immediate threat. Who would have thought that such differing priorities could be a boon in the given circumstances.

All for the artifact, time was off the essence.

[member="Cyril Grayson"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

If they didn’t get moving, they were going to be left. That was what he heard over the comms. The Hope was in trouble. Everyone knew going into this that the flagship of the Galactic Alliance was going to be out gunned. “We heard the call, Voidstalker. Get your artifact, we have to move, now.” As if the Jedi didn’t already know there was going to be an issue, there was going to be concern. There were shuttles not far from their position, but between the teams and the ships? Who knew what was out there.

“Heat up the engines, shuttles, we’re coming to you, tout suite.” Why did he fall into some sort of ancient dialect? Because Corey just lets things happen. Turning back to his team, he nodded. “Change of plans. Get to the ship. Get them warmed up.”

“Jedi team, do you need help?” He checked his weapon as he lead [member="Spark Finn"] and [member="Rook"] out of the entrance they came in. They could bring the shuttles to them. Coren looked at his team, what was the best way to handle it?

Probably him in a ship.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Relit Vandal"] [member="Cyril Grayson"]

Jacen grimaced as the adept approached him. With all of his strength he couldn’t shift himself from the wall. No matter how hard he pushed his body in training, this was a force he could not resist with physical strength alone.

He braced for what was to come, but then the adept’s arm simply exploded. The man looked aghast as he stared at the remaining stump. There were several flashes of light as Relit fired his blaster. The telekinetic pressure abated, and Kairon fell from the wall. Landing on the balls of his feet, he scanned his surroundings. His saber had fallen into the middle of the chamber and he could not sense it through the veil of darkness.

An adept leapt across the chasm towards him, scarlet blade snapping to life as he charged. Jacen augmented his balance and agility with the Force as he backed away. Two swings of the saber came perilously close to removing a limb, but he kept ahead of his enemy’s movements.

Taking his chance, he dropped to his knee as a horizontal slash came for him. A gently shove with the Force help the blade over his head and he fired his handcannon at point blank range. The adept dropped away and collapsed in a heap, before Jacen removed his saber. Igniting the scarlet blade, he ran around the edge of the room. The last defenders needed to be neutralised, before they could take the casket.