Mission Balmorra: Whole Block Pays

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


Varin's head tilted after Acier spoke. The entrance was certainly dramatic, but Varin viewed it as a bit of a tactical yet explosive approach.

His voice cut through once again as he ordered the acolytes away from the beaten Rebel and the family behind him.

Insects?

His head slowly turned towards Acier.

“You need not worry about me harming them. I was only sent here to kill rebels. Not children.”

His gaze fell to the wounded rebel, his posture straightening. The man was broken down, barely holding on to consciousness but still willing to fight. Varin had respect for that.

He reached into one of his pockets pulling out a small bacta injector. His eyes fell to the injector then to the wounded rebel.

“You will leave this place. Take them with you if you wish, attack me if you wish. But know this, if I give you this and you decide to attack me. Then you will have wasted your chance to help them.”

He tossed the injector towards the man, the small clicks as it bounced from the ground landing just by his leg.

“Make the smart decision.”

He turned around, following Acier towards the main objective.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Caelis Venn]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer Tamsin Starfall Seris Velmora Miasmær

Rain slid over Caelis' skin, turning to steam as it struck the heat of his blade. He didn't slow. He didn't hesitate.
He led.
Bodies fell in his wake—cut down in precise, merciless strokes as he carved a path through the broken phalanx. The Force surged around him, alive and violent, bending to his will as if the storm itself answered to him. Each step forward was deliberate. Each strike, final.

Kael.
The presence flared again—sharper this time, clawing at his focus. Stop this. It wasn't a voice he heard, but a truth he refused to accept.

Caelis' jaw tightened. "You don't belong here," he hissed under his breath, driving his blade across another soldier before thrusting his free hand outward. The Force answered—hurling bodies aside like debris in a gale.

Behind him, Lysander followed—not leading, but not lagging either. A constant pressure at his back. A reminder. A witness.
Good.
Let him see.

Caelis pushed harder, faster—his movements sharpening into something almost surgical. Where others reveled in chaos, he imposed direction. Control. The dead didn't pile randomly—they marked his path forward, a trail of intent leading straight toward the tower.

Yet the hollow space inside him only deepened.
Power flooded in with every life taken, but it slipped through him just as quickly, leaving that same emptiness behind. A hunger that refused to be satisfied.

His gaze flicked for the briefest moment toward the distant presence of Darth Lunaris—fractured, powerful… enduring. Not broken. Not consumed.
A possibility.
Then—

::Forward.::
The command came, but Caelis was already moving.
He surged ahead, faster now, the Force coiling tight around his limbs as the tower loomed larger through fire and rain. The storm howled, the battlefield collapsed behind him, and still he pressed on.

Forward, he echoed silently.
Not for them. Not for the Covenant.
But to drown out the voice of his brother… before it became something he could no longer ignore.

​

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[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania | Acier Moonbound | Varin Mortifer | Darth Grimm | Miasmær | Tamsin Starfall | Caelis Venn

The corridor was already too slow. Too narrow. Too controlled. Every meter forward demanded restraint, demanded purpose—things Seris Velmora had never worn comfortably. The air stank of scorched metal and ruptured circuitry, but beneath it all was something sweeter—fear, sharp and electric, clinging to the walls like a living thing. And it called to her.

The first defender rounded the corner too quickly, blaster rising in trembling hands. Seris didn’t slow. Her blade snapped to life in a violent arc, carving through the weapon and the man behind it in one seamless motion. Momentum carried her forward, boots skidding through the aftermath, breath catching—not from exertion, but from the rush.

It would be so easy to stop. Another flicker of movement to her right—two more, scrambling, shouting. She turned without thinking, saber already moving, the hum of it filling her skull as it split the air. One fell. The second tried to run.

She let him get two steps. Then three. Then she wanted the chase. Her lips parted, a laugh threatening to spill out as she leaned forward—and stopped.

No. Seris hissed softly, jaw tightening as the impulse clawed at her spine. That wasn’t the path. Not the point. Not why she was here.

The voices on the comms. Names unimportant, but the voices and orders anchored her, barely. With visible effort, she wrenched herself back on course, pivoting hard and driving deeper into the facility. The hum of her saber didn’t fade—it pressed, urging her to turn again, to seek out the next flicker of resistance, the next heartbeat to silence.

A door half-crushed off its hinges caught her attention. Inside, something moved—small, frantic. Not a threat. Not relevant. She slowed anyway. Just a glance—No.

Seris dragged her gaze away, shoulders tightening as if physically pulling herself free from invisible hooks. “Move,” she muttered under her breath, voice edged with irritation—at the distraction, at the restraint, at herself.

The next intersection exploded into motion. A squad this time—organized, braced, expecting her. Blasterfire lit the corridor in violent bursts. Finally. She surged forward, deflections sharp and aggressive, each bolt redirected with more force than necessary. One caught a soldier square in the chest, dropping him instantly. She didn’t even look. She was already inside their formation, blade carving tight, efficient arcs—too efficient.

Too fast. It ended almost before it began. Silence rushed back in, broken only by the fading crackle of damaged systems. Seris stood in the center of it, chest rising, eyes scanning for more.

There should have been more. There could have been more. Her head tilted slightly, gaze drifting toward another branching corridor—dark, untouched, promising—

“Enough.”

The word came out sharper this time, a command forced inward. She extinguished the saber for a single heartbeat, the sudden absence of its hum jarring her senses, before igniting it again with renewed focus. Forward.

She pushed harder now, pace quickening into something almost reckless—not chasing the fight, but outrunning the temptation of it. The Force stretched ahead of her, and there—finally—the others she was searching for.

Acier Moonbound burned like a steady, controlled flame. Varin Mortifer, colder, sharper—like a blade waiting to fall. Grounded. Purpose. Seris exhaled through a faint, crooked smile as she closed the last stretch of distance, stepping into their orbit with barely-contained energy still thrumming through her limbs.

“You two move slow,” she quipped, though the edge in her voice betrayed the effort it had taken to get here without losing herself along the way.

Her saber spun once in her grip before settling at her side, restless. “Try to keep up.”

​

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

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Theme: Lunatics and Slaves
Tags: Acier Moonbound | Lysander von Ascania | Miasmær | Seris Velmora | Caelis Venn | Varin Mortifer

She hadn't yet pulled the trigger on the finger guns as she stared down the rebels in front of her. They stared back, not sure what to think of the little girl in front of them. Yet they soon realized that the fight down the street was turning into a blood bath for their comrades. They couldn't stay entertaining some strange little freak in the streets, pointing fingers at them.

"Get the hell out of here kid!" One of the rebels yelled, as the others charged up their weapons. Still, they weren't sure if they should charge back into the fight or flee, saving themselves. Tamsin could feel the trepidation in them. Feel their realization that they were in a fight they could not hope to win.

She stared at them as she felt through her invisible web her allies pushing forward. Feel the warpath they were leading to the tower. Off in the distance bombs from the bombers escorting the transport could be heard going off faintly through the storm of sleet. Clearing a path where the transports could land.

Across a bloodied face a small crack of a smile appeared as she continued to stare forward at the rebels with her finger guns out. The one who spoke out to her was trying to wave her off like she was some harmless kid.

Through the noise of the storm a simple whisper left her lips. "Bang." The right hand cocked back like it had fired a bullet as force blast left the tip of her fingers. Duracrete exploded as the blast shot across the distance. Slamming shrapnel shards in the direction of the rebels but the blast itself slammed at hypersonic speed into the one who had called her a kid.

All of the rebels in that area were impacted by duracrete shrapnel knocking them to the ground a few even got hit so hard arms, legs and ribs snapped on the impact. Yet the one that took the direct hit his whole body became a squishy mess as it slammed through a nearby building and out the other side. The lump of what us to be a body slamming into the ground near Caelis Venn feet.

Those rebels on the ground looked at the little witch in horror not seeing a little girl anymore but a destructive monster. Some scrambled and tried to pull themselves out of the situation as fast as they could. Those with broken bones scratching at the ground tried to crawl away. But Tamsin still had one more loaded finger gun pointing in their direction.

She felt it as the transports landed elsewhere in the city. Soldiers in Hazard Armor began to deploy from them. On each transport though four of the soldiers worked together to carry large, incased pressure bombs. Slowly, still very much in pain walked towards one of the rebels trying to crawl away.

The small frame of Tamsin stood above him as she pointed her one loaded finger gun down at him. The Rebel side glanced up at the drenched and bleeding little girl with those strange eyes of hers. The Rebel knew then their life was all but over, but she did not pull the trigger. Through heavy breaths she spoke.

"Call your leaders and fellow rebels on your comms. Tell them to surrender or kill themselves it matters not. Tell them if they don't, this city will not see another dawn. I will level it to the ground as a reminder to all not to frak with the covenant. Do they want mercy or death that is their choice." The finger gun of her left hand came down and pressed against the rebel's helmet. The rebel scrambled a finger to their comm, but he hesitated the words not coming out.