Faction A Nightmare to Escape From

[Serina Calis]

A Nightmare to Escape From.
Location: ???
Objective: Survive.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Zanami Zachariah Conway Leshanna Brooklyn Zambrano Lúthien Tinúviel Alana Calloway
Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven Beau Talon Lysander von Ascania Trayze Tesar

Where in the Force am I?​

Serina moved through the dense foliage with practiced ease, the rain-slick leaves brushing against her as she navigated the unknown terrain. She wasn't rushing—no, that would be foolish. Rushing led to mistakes, and mistakes in a game like this would be fatal.

Then, the voice returned.

"One of you is on my side, in place to take you out one at a time. Trust no one but yourselves and be the last one standing."

Serina's smirk deepened, but she said nothing. She didn't trust anyone to begin with. That part of the game was irrelevant to her. What was interesting, however, was the fact that their mysterious host had chosen to interject again so soon. That meant they were watching—actively engaged, not just some distant figure orchestrating events from afar.

"Well, well, well," came the voice in her head—her own voice, but not quite. Older. Amused. Infinitely patient. "Paranoia as the second challenge? Predictable, but effective. I wonder how many of them will break under the pressure?"

"Probably all of them," Serina muttered aloud, unconcerned with whether anyone was near enough to hear her. "That kind of thing only works on those who think they have something to lose."

"And what about us, dear? Do we have something to lose?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she stepped forward, breaking through the final layer of foliage to find herself standing at the edge of an impossibly deep body of water. The surface was unnaturally still, the reflection of the storm overhead distorted in its glassy depths. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

At the very bottom, barely visible through the darkness, something gleamed.

A prize.

Serina knelt at the water's edge, tapping the surface lightly with her finger. The ripples distorted the light, but it didn't move like normal water. It wasn't natural. Nothing about this place was.

She reached for the Force.

Nothing.

Her connection to it was completely severed, as though it had never existed at all.

"Ah," her future self murmured, intrigued. "Now that is interesting. Whatever's down there, it doesn't want to be reached. It wants to be earned."

Serina's eyes narrowed. The simplest solution would be to swim, but she wasn't an idiot. If it was that deep, there was no guarantee she could make it to the bottom and back before drowning. Not to mention the unknown variables. What if the water wasn't just water? What if there was something else waiting beneath the surface?

"So," she murmured, standing up. "How do I get to it without dying?"

"Oh, darling, you know the answer to that. Think."

And she did.

Serina let her mind drift through possibilities, eliminating the ones that relied on brute force or endurance. This wasn't about power—it was about intelligence. The game was about survival, and survival was about adapting.

She exhaled slowly, stepping back from the edge.

"Good girl," her future self purred. "Go on, tell me what you've figured out."

"It wants me to go down, but it never said I had to swim."

"Precisely."

Serina glanced around, scanning the trees, the terrain, the storm itself. The answer was here. It had to be. This wasn't a test of physicality—it was a test of problem-solving.

Then she saw it.

Vines. Thick, twisted, and plentiful. Some extended deep into the water, vanishing into the abyss below.

Serina grinned.

She pulled one down, testing its strength. It held.

"Resourcefulness, dear. Always the mark of a survivor."

With practiced efficiency, she began weaving a length of vine into something more substantial. Knotting, reinforcing, making sure it wouldn't snap under her weight. When she was satisfied, she tied it securely to the largest tree at the edge of the water.

Then, without hesitation, she grabbed hold and lowered herself in.

The cold was immediate and biting, but she ignored it. Using the vine as her guide, she descended, her movements methodical and controlled. The water grew darker as she went deeper, the light above fading into nothingness.

The prize drew closer.

But so did something else.

A movement. A shift in the darkness below.

Serina tightened her grip, pausing for only a moment.

"Ah. There it is."

She smirked, unbothered. Whatever it was, it was meant to scare her. To make her hesitate. But hesitation was weakness, and weakness had no place here.

So she went deeper.

The shining object was within reach. She let go of the vine with one hand, reaching out—

Her fingers closed around it.

And the darkness moved.

Something surged toward her. A shape, a presence, a formless nightmare in the abyss.

Serina yanked the object free and kicked off from the bottom, pulling herself up the vine with rapid efficiency. The water churned below as something vast and unknowable just missed her, its presence brushing against her leg like a whisper of death.

But it was too late. She was already rising.

Her head broke the surface with a sharp gasp, and she wasted no time scrambling onto the shore, collapsing onto her back. She was drenched, cold, but triumphant.

She held up her prize, examining it in the dim light.

Serina tilted her head, the rain cascading over her face as she regarded the figure perched above with open amusement. Even through the storm's relentless downpour, she could see the way the woman moved—controlled, deliberate, poised for either flight or confrontation. Every movement was calculated, the wary tension in her stance speaking volumes.

Serina smirked. How delicious.

"Oh, this one's fun," purred the voice in her head—her own voice, but older, richer, laced with indulgence. "So cautious. So sure of herself. So utterly convinced that she's in control."

Serina's lips curled at the edges as she let the silence stretch just a little longer, watching, waiting.

Then, finally, she spoke ( Lúthien Tinúviel ).

"Understanding is such a dull thing to chase," she murmured, her voice low and honeyed, meant to slip into the spaces between thoughts like a creeping vine. "You think the sane hold power? That those who cling to their precious 'understanding' are anything more than prisoners in a cage they built for themselves?"

She took a slow step forward, the mud beneath her boots sucking softly at the movement.

"Madness is simply the refusal to obey their rules. To see the game for what it truly is and play it on your terms." Another step. Unhurried. Measured. Testing. "So tell me, my dear… do you still believe there is no such thing?"

She was useful.

But was she clever?

"Oh, let's find out, shall we?"

Serina's smirk widened, her blue eyes gleaming beneath the storm.

"You must forgive me," she said, voice dripping with false contrition. "You see, I do understand. I understand perfectly." She exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "You are one of those delightful creatures who believe they are untouched by the game. Above it, even. But here you are, moving like a shadow through the branches, chasing something you believe is meant for you."

She gestured lazily with one hand. "So, tell me—who is playing whom?"

The wind howled through the trees, rain slicing the space between them.

Serina let it settle. Let it press.

Then, she laughed. Soft at first, then richer, bolder—a velvet thing, thick with amusement.

"You intrigue me," she admitted, tracing a finger down the damp fabric of her robe, drawing attention—just for a moment—to the subtle shift of the soaked material. "And I do so enjoy interesting things."

She took another step forward, raising a delicate brow. "So… shall I see what use you have to me? Or are you just another piece waiting to be removed from the board?"

Serina let the question hang in the air, the smirk on her lips never once faltering. Testing. Probing. Measuring the woman's worth, not in strength alone—but in how she answered.

 

[Leshanna]

Tags: Naamino Zuukamano // Zachariah Conway
​

Don’t panic.

That was always the first thing she was told when something felt utterly out of her control. But it was impossible not to feel the tight squeeze of panic as she slipped completely under the surface of the water. Almost instantly, the robes she wore were drenched and were becoming heavy and waterlogged, dragging her further down from the blessed release of the surface.

Instinct, primal and fierce, made her thrash her arms and legs in an attempt to reach the surface. Darkness surrounded her and only added to the disorientation she felt in the moment.

Leshanna tried to claw her way up - or at least, the in direction she hoped was up - but her vision was beginning to dance with lights as she continued to hold her breath. Something she knew she wouldn’t be able to do for much longer.

This…this is how I die. She thought bitterly to herself. Never getting to see Naami or Haro again. Never going to see my potential...become a Sith…

Bantha balls this sucks!

Just as the burn became too much for her lungs to bear any further, she felt strong arms wrap around her and then the sensation of being pulled upwards. Moments later, she breached the surface with her savior, and heard an oh so sweet and familiar voice:

"Lesh- Hold on!"

The young acolyte could have cried in that moment, and maybe she did - so thankful was she to Naamino for saving her life. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life as he swam them both towards the shore. Above, bolts of lightning flashed and danced as the rain continued to pour down from the skies above, offering the briefest of illumination for the two teens.

Eventually, they came to the shoreline, and both acolytes coughed to clear the excess water from their lungs. Leshanna trembled from the surge of adrenaline and her near brush with death, and she felt only the desire to be close to her Zabrak friend. She didn’t want to lose him, now that they were together in whatever this mess was.

Suddenly, the voice returned, filling her mind once more: "Congratulations on surviving. That was just the first task. As I am sure you have all noticed, you are not the only one playing my game…One of you is on my side, in place to take you out one at a time. Trust no-one but yourselves and be the last one standing."

Lesh’s blue eyes found Naamino’s, her face pale and stress was evident within her features. Her mind whirled with the new information she’d been given, then her face scrunched up as anger revealed itself.

“Get the kark out of my head you bastard!” she snarled aloud, then coughed once more from the effort. She shook her head and clung tighter to Naami. She refused to believe for an instant that her friend would betray her. And she would never do such a thing to her friend, even if it meant her life.

But…did Naami believe that?

“Did...did you hear that too? The voice?” she asked Naami tentatively. They would need a plan, that much was certain - especially if anything the voice said was true.

“What…what are we going to do now?”

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Setting her down upon reaching the shore, Naami turned to check on his friend. Strong hands held trembling shoulders as azure gaze checked in with sapphire. His tattooed face was painted with worry and relief, shoulders heaved as he caught his breath, and the full realization of their circumstances came crashing down on him.
Before he could speak, the suspiciously familiar voice rang in their heads again.

Naami snarled his displeasure as well, holding Lesh tight, protective instincts riled by the fight response that sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. He paid no mind to the words other than to learn the rules of the game, so that he and Lesh could bend or break them together.

"Yes, I think-" the zabrak cast about, realizing that they needed to get moving.
"I recognize that voice."

For the first time he considered his condition, what they had to work with. He grimaced at the lack of boots, irritated that Sith Lords seemed to think he needed to develop feet of iron. The zabrak didn't bother lamenting the loss of the cloak despite the cold, torrential rain punishing his bare torso. It was an acceptable sacrifice to have made the most haste to Lesh's side. The simple pants and utility belt would have to be enough.

"We've gotta get cover— let's go," he pulled Lesh into a crouching jog.

Keeping them low and making for a rocky outcropping that would at least offer them coverage from flanking and some reprieve from the wrath of their environment. Once set up with a modicum of defensive positioning. Naami turned again to consider his friend, talking quickly.

"We are probably out here with fellow students, but no way of knowing— we could be up against more experienced opponents. I've got my Force blast, we need to get you a weapon though, and fast."

He gave her another squeeze of the shoulders, making sure she was with him, that she was listening.

"We're gonna make it out of this, we have to be smart though ok? Let's keep moving, heads on a swivel. You stay low, out front of me and I'll defend with Force blast while we get our bearings. Plan?" He asked for concise confirmation she understood.

It was the first time they'd truly faced an emergency situation together. All the rest of their training had been just that, practice. This though? This side of Naami was entirely more focused and intense. The calm, quiet stoicism Lesh had probably come to associate with him had been entirely overtaken by the stern confidence of a young man who made decisive moves and committed every fiber of his being to success of the mission.

The mission in question was clearly: get Lesh and himself out of this alive.

Tags: Leshanna Zachariah Conway
[Open to Opp if Discussed]​

 

[Zachariah Conway]

Location: Unknown
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano | Leshanna | Trayze Tesar | Brooklyn Zambrano | Alana Calloway | Serina Calis | Lysander von Ascania | Haro Aven | Chasianna | Beau Talon | Zanami
Equipment: Lightsaber | Sith Armour
​

The world continued to attack.

Storms continued to brew, lightning continued to strike down, thunder crashed off in the distance and rain continued to lash against all of those whom had been dropped down onto the inhospitible world. Somewhere, their host was having an excellent time.

Alana Calloway fought against the cold, unrelenting water. Rocks and jagged stones served as foils, her body being washed against all of them. Eventually, her relief would come as she washed up into a cave. There was no obvious way out for her, except to go deeper into the darkness where something or someone was crying.

Trayze Tesar was face to face with his chained individuals, and surprisingly one of them offered him and pen and paper. All of them introduced themselves, with all of them having similar stories. They all awoke upon the storm battered world chained together. Only one of them, a young Ithorian had a story that didn't quite match. Why did he remember waking up on a ship before waking up on the stormy planet?

Brooklyn Zambrano was sensible, taking the time to craft weapons and ensure that she had everything she needed. The shelter she was taking would be interupted however by a young humanoid child. Said child didn't appear to be any older than seven and he asked one question. "Where's my mummy?"

Zanami made quick work of the Reek that had been sent to challenge her. She would continue on her path, eventually reaching two other contestants. Whether her path had looped or not was unknown, however she would be able to see Naamino Zuukamano and Leshanna in the distance. If she opted to engage them or continue to find shelter and weapons was her choice.

Serina Calis and Lúthien Tinúviel had also found themselves together. Serina Calis had successfully captured her treasure, some form of blaster. It was rusted from it's time underwater but it would serve as a weapon if some ammunition could be sourced for it. However both Serina and Lúthien Tinúviel would face their next challenge, as numerous B1 Battle Droids stormed their location. They were clearly old and repurposed from wars long since passed, but they were certainly still dangerous especially since they all had blaster rifles. Would they work together? Would they not? Only time would tell.

Naamino Zuukamano and Leshanna would continue their walk. Their host wasn't at all surprised thay Naamino recognised the voice in question. In time, they would reach a small cabin containing a body. The body belonged to a humanoid female, clearly long deceased. Her cabin was sparcely equipped, with some basic food rations and a single sleeping bag available. Would they know they were being hunted, that was the question?

 

[Brooklyn Zambrano]

Equipment | In Bio

Location | Haiklet

Tag | Zachariah Conway

At first her senses would jump, being snuck up on while she whittled away at a stick of wood.

"Oh for-"

She takes a moment to breathe, the storm raging outside doing little to calm her nerves.

"How did.. How did you get here?"

There was no way this child lived here, part of her hoped this was just an illusion, a trick. If it wasn't- Well, she would have a whole new goal in mind then.

Brooklyn gestures to a nearby chair.

"Take a seat and tell me what happened."

She was of course anxious, but her protective personality had won over her anxiousness in the end.
​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Chain Gang
Immediate Goals -
1: Survive
1.1: Coordinate with your fellow captives (optional)
2: Find the criminal (optional)

BLUFOR - Brooklyn Zambrano || Naamino Zuukamano || Leshanna || Alana Calloway || Serina Calis || Lysander von Ascania || Haro Aven || Chasianna || Beau Talon || Zanami

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Zachariah Conway || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

There would be an obvious angle here, that the Ithorian would have done it. More canny armchair detectives would suspect the man with the pen and paper, while perhaps not a criminal, the larger threat - a plant by the "game-master" in order to make sure that the "game" is being played. However, Trayze Tesar didn't entertain distant, no doubt bored and blue blooded Sithlings whose groins were going to receive a righteous punt to - he needed to be a detective.

"All right..." Trayze stated, his nodding to give the illusion he barely understood what was being said - a reasonable assumption, this was not exactly standard proceedings for a booking. "First thing's next, we need to get movin', don't wanna catch cold."

Herein came the counterattack in Trayze's mind, removing the binds as much as they could through mundane means - hopefully. If such mundane means could not be done, and though the fellow captives were still bound and can be moved, this was the greater priority. Water was obnoxiously abundant in the torrential weather, so Trayze went onto the other, equally pressing means of survival - securing a source of shelter, and subsequently, a source of heat.

The prisoners would not be treated as such, more like hapless comrades in chains - save for Trayze. He would keep the notion of his Force sensitivity a secret for as long as possible, keep an invisible eye on each of the chained - those criminals tend to fall under two broad categories: the guilty and the arrogant. The guilty tend to behave as such, paranoid, doing everything in their power to obfuscate their actions - seeing threats in everything. They would be far less predictable, and perhaps more dangerous in a group setting. The latter was arrogant, brash, believing themselves to have already outwitted everything, something he would try to tip the "criminal" into thinking he was just a hapless detective, trapped here all the same. No doubt a few throwaway lines about trashy fanfiction, that were the absolute truth to be clear, would further cause the group to fray just enough into their individual personalities for Trayze to get a better reading on.

The hardest part wasn't finding a criminal, everyone was guilty or felt guilty of something, so guilt didn't prove anything. The hardest part came in two noteworthy factors - ensuring the cohesion and survival of the group, and more importantly, weeding out any potential moles. He would endeavor to keep morale high, making small talk about things he's observed about each of them, making light jokes, throwing conversational topics - contrary to holodramas, police didn't tend to be heavy-handed in the means of extracting information - even the "good-cop, bad cop" routine was becoming an outdated concept! A PEACE method of interrogation would have to be the watchword, and in lieu of proper documentation, he would have to become personable - as well as securing a dryer location. After a traumatic or at the very least inconvenient situation, it would behoove the would be inquirer would need to play more as host and butler than journalist or interrogator - thus causing the interviewees to feel relaxed and more talkative.

See? Not just an ugly face with a naive attitude. he mentally jeered to a certain Once-Sephi.

 

[Leshanna]

Naamino Zuukamano // Zachariah Conway
​

Naami recognized the voice they were hearing? Leshanna frowned in concern and confusion as she tried to figure out just who he might know that would do this to them.

“...is this another test from the Sith King, you think?” she asked her friend as she drew in deep breaths to try and regain what oxygen she’d lost in her near drowning scare. Above them, the lightning continued to flash, illuminating the reeds and the lakeshore around them, but little else. Clearly they were on some sort of foliated planet, though which she wasn’t sure. There were so many planets in the galaxy that it was impossible to memorize them all and what terrain they had.

The teen girl took a better stock of herself and her companion; Naami was without his robes, his muscled torso sleek from the pouring rain, and wearing only black trousers, and she also noticed his feet were bare. Looking at herself, she noticed it was the same for her too and her lips drew into a thin line of displeasure.

“No shoes or boots? Really? Ugh.”

"We've gotta get cover— let's go,"

Naami pulled her into a somewhat crouched position, and together they slipped into the darkness of whatever hell hole they had been dropped into. She stayed close as he brought them both to a rocky outcropping that offered some protection from the pelting, cold rain and also offered a somewhat suitable defensive position - at least for the moment. Breathing somewhat fast from the rush of adrenaline that still poured through her body, the girl returned Naami’s look and listened as he quickly broke down the situation and what they needed to do next.

"We are probably out here with fellow students, but no way of knowing— we could be up against more experienced opponents. I've got my Force blast, we need to get you a weapon though, and fast."

Leshanna nodded in agreement, and took a deep breath to settle her nerves as he gave her a comforting squeeze on her shoulder.

"We're gonna make it out of this, we have to be smart though ok? Let's keep moving, heads on a swivel. You stay low, out in front of me and I'll defend with Force blast while we get our bearings. Plan?"

She gave the taller and broader acolyte a look and scoffed softly. “Normally I’m the one who says we need to be smart about all this. But yeah that sounds like a plan; let's stick close together, yeah? Alright, let’s go…”

Lesh then set off back into the pouring rain, staying in front of Naami as he had directed her to, while she got a lay of their surroundings and pushed further away from the lake, the flashing lightning her only source of light to guide her way onward. The travel was arduous and made even more agitating by the fact that she was truly soaked to the bone, and beginning to shiver from a chill that was settling in upon her. In the darkness, she reached out to take Naamino’s hand in her own, seeking further assurance that he was indeed still there with her - a way to ground her and keep her focused on the task at hand.

Eventually, she spied what appeared to be a structure and upon closer inspection saw that it was an old, abandoned cabin. A partially broken door admitted the two youths inside, and within the old structure they spied the body of a female, long deceased and mostly mummified. Lesh grimaced at the sight, then continued to look around for anything that could be useful to them.

There was a single sleeping bag it seemed, covered by a layer of dust and whatever else had settled in the cabin - along with some basic food rations.

“...I say we stay here for the night, Naami. Ride out the storm and get our bearings when it's lighter out. What do you think?” the pale and shivering girl said in a soft voice. “Besides…it's mostly dry in here…could allow me to dry out these Bogan damn robes a bit…”

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Her somewhat sassy retort, about being smart, almost caught him off-guard. Naami didn't have time in the moment, but later he'd consider how he'd charged ahead and almost assumed command. Just because Lesh needed his help back in the lake didn't mean he got to be a laser-brain that treated her like someone that needed coddling.

Her keen eyes soon spotted a structure and the made for it with haste. Naami spent more time examining the dead woman than Lesh did, suspecting necromancy given his varied experiences on Korriban. However, the corpse seemed well and truly inanimate and to the best of his limited knowledge, she didn't seem as if she'd suddenly spring into undead action. The zabrak stood up from the crouch he'd assumed while considering their deceased host, icy eyes turned to Lesh as she voiced her idea.

Naami's expression softened faintly as he considered the state of her. He was cold too but the adrenaline coursing through his veins and his sturdy zabrak constitution meant he'd hardly noticed.

"Ah Darkness, yeah Lesh you must be freezing..." the young man cast around a bit then nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I can take her a little ways away," he hooked a thumb toward the dead lady, "That way we aren't sharing such a small space with... a stranger. Then maybe we can get a fire started? If not, at least we're outta the storm for now. I can try to barricade the door some too."

With a grimace, Naami wasted no time soldier-carrying the body out of the cabin and he grabbed an armful of large environmental detritus on the way back. He let the random branches and a few large stones fall to the ground. It seemed as if he was looking to shore up the busted door a bit to give them some semblance of a warning before anyone or anything might burst into the room. All the wood outside seemed too waterlogged to bother gathering it for a fire, but he hoped Lesh was feeling a little better out of the rain.

"Do we want to take shifts trying to rest?" He asked as he started wedging a heavy branch into the door.

Leshanna Zachariah Conway ​