Skirmish Blackest Night: Jakku Jedi Enclave Raid [BOTM v JEDI]

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective: Kill the enemies of the Maw
Location: Jedi Enclave, Jakku
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: Darth Solipsis | The Mongrel | Darth Tennacus
Enemies: Zark San Tekka | Dagon Kaze

[ Planet Hell ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

I looked up at the sky when I heard the hissing sound getting closer and closer. I grinned as it was clear that these were not Maw people. They come here to die and don’t even know about it. I looked at the pods and then at the entrance. I watched both places. I waited for the enemy to finally show up. I wanted to see their blood, their suffering; to hear their begging; or to see in them what would make them unique, that the Maw would embrace them as well, as they did with me. I nodded to the Warlord with military precision after his order.

"With the greatest pleasure, warlord!" I answered.

Jedi… I have never heard a more beautiful word today. It all seemed like really great fun. I have already said my next words on the communication channel. While it would have been enough to think these due to the biochip in my brain, this time I decided on the words spoken.

<< This is Mercy, I want a squad marauder join me near the main entrance. We're going Jedi hunting! We leave no survivors! >> I said cheerfully, with a cruel, predatory emphasis in my voice.

I glanced at the Warlord once more, then set off at a comfortable pace towards the drop pods. Soon a squad marauder joined me. We’ll probably get close to the pods by the time they hit the ground. I turned in the direction of the marauders as I stopped at one of the higher points on a dune and looked from there to the place where the drop pods had crashed or would crash soon.

"Bring them to me! It looks like they are eager to meet death…" my lips twitched into a cruel smile as the marauders headed for the pods.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Jakku Enclave. Landing Pad Turbolift.
Tags: Darth Solipsis Dakrul Halketh Marcel von Ascania
Objective: Keep all eyes on him.
Equipment: Azoth

So, on the bright side, he had managed to grab the attention of the head honcho. For every moment Solipsis focused on him. Every mote of energy expended in trying to crush him was another opportunity for someone to cut the head off the snake. And when the objective of the enemy was complete annihilation of their opposition. Survival was victory. By standing strong and resisting, the Jedi showed themselves again and again to be able to match the Sith blow for blow.

When one's enemy was driven by fanaticism. Defiance was a powerful weapon against them.

But the bad news however was that Dakrul was now getting away from him. It wasn’t so much the attempted injection of corruption that gave him concern. A momentary exposure stood about as much of a chance of weakening Aaran as a sincere hug stood at doing the same to the undead abomination.

The pair were simply too far along their own respective paths for such exposure to be more than a momentary annoyance.

Instead, he had to deal with the walls themselves coming alive and trying to crush him. His body exploding into a flurry of motion as he moved. Golden blade arcing out as his body twisted and turned. Slicing clean through the panels. His footwork as confident as only someone with the ability to perceive the future could be. His body twisting with grace that was clearly supernatural in nature.

A lesser man would have died in moments. But as luck would have it. no one in this room could be considered a mere mortal. This was the battlefield of Sorcerers and Demigods. To be anything else would be to invite death.

Aside from perhaps poor Creed. But his Padawan had her own strengths. He was confident she would find some way to contribute and survive.

Even as he moved as a dervish of golden plasma, the commlink on his belt beeped once.

This is Vanagor. I'm in the lower levels. The East Training rooms. Point me in a direction.

"Big fella. Coming down the landing bay corridor. Could you be so kind as to show him some hospitality Master Vanagor?" His tone coming through the other side to the even burlier Jedi certainly sounded calm and in control. A sharp contrast to the utter chaos audible in the background. "I'd do it, but I'm busy entertaining his boss."

And even as he said, that, finally breaking free of the onslaught. The Sith'ari was right there in his face. Wrinkled fist drawn back, slamming right into his stomach. And the Jedi would admit it, for an old man. Kaigan hit hard.

Thankfully, Aaran knew how to take a punch. His muscles clenching and tightening moments before impact in an attempt to abosrb some of the blow. Avoiding having the wind driven from him. But no doubt he was going to be sporting an impressive bruise on his stomach if he survived this night.

But if Solipsis wanted to get in close and personal. Aaran was more than happy to oblige. As well as inform the Sith'ari that as powerful as they might be. Getting into Melee combat with the Battlemaster of the New Jedi Order was hardly somewhere anyone wanted to be.

He could feel the stasis starting to settle on his body. His arms and legs beginning to lock up. The paralysis spreading through him. Preventing him from bringing his sword to bear against the Sith before him. But of course, it was the arrogance of his opponent to assume he was any less dangerous without his lightsaber.

And so, continuing the New Jedi Order's tradition of grievously injuring the elderly on Jakku. The Jedi steeled his body against the encroaching hold. His will and focus allowing his lower body to remain firmly planted on the ground and still allowing his upper body, minus arms, its full range of movement. He brought his forehead down into Fossk's nose with enough force to crack durasteel.

 

[Vaylin]

Location: Jakku - Outside the Enclave
Objective: Help Defend
Equipment: Dual Blades
Allies: Ishani Dinn
Enemies: Darth Tennacus​

As Vaylin approached the Enclave, she felt a presence...no it was more of a buzz. A hum in the back of her head, like a headache throbbing in a specific spot. Someone new to learning of the Force would be puzzled, but the Zabrak realized what this was. That despite her numbed connection, she could still feel the vibrations of it. It was familiar, far too familiar.

War. Carnage. Death.

The ever tempering struggle between Light and Dark, pushing against one another to try and come out on top. As she drew ever near, she could feel a strange sense of clarity. Hazy, and unclear still, but just enough to feel. The Dark side was daunting, suffocating, bolstered by something, or someone that was impossible for her to pinpoint. But the Light side stood tall against it, as it always did.

Vaylin expected to feel the oppressive feeling of the Dark, but there was nothing. It washed over her as though she wasn’t even there. Neither was there any of the warmth felt from the Light, it too seemed to ignore the Zabrak. To anyone who could sense her, she’d appear as an anomaly. Something that did exist, but shouldn’t.

Drawing finally in range of all the fighting, Vaylin got a good look at the exterior of the Enclave. It was under assault, by beings-creatures that she could only assume were some manner of Sithspawn. It was her guess anyway, based simply off her experiences with such experiments. She once had one of Taeli Raaf 's creations fighting at her side, now she’d be facing the creations of another.

The Zabrak raced further towards the conflict, now taking note of two Jedi fighting against the exterior assault. A blonde woman and her Chaldean companion, the former of which having just come victorious over one of the creatures. Seeing another jump into the fray, preparing to lash its tail towards the Jedi, Vaylin turned her speeder towards them.

Pushing the accelerator to the max, the Zabrak jammed it into place and reached towards her bag. She glanced forwards then back, waiting until there was just enough distance left before she moved. Vaylin grabbed her bag and jumped, kicking off from the vehicle allowing it to soar across the sand straight towards the Xenomorph’s flank.

Vaylin landed with a roll, quickly landing on feet and standing up. She pulled her blades from their makeshift sheathes before securing the bag over her shoulder.

“Hope you don’t mind a little backup.” She chimed in as she jogged over to Ishani, immediately falling into a stance ready to fight. Vaylin peered at the blonde’s form, noticing the state of her attire, the welts and blisters. There was a question at the tip of her tongue, but she got her answer glancing at the deceased Xeno Ishani had slain. Its acidic blood hissing and dissolving through the sand. “So...best to avoid their blood?”

 

[Gillan Eru]

His first comment just slipped out. But the response he received, the raised brow in particular, gave him a boost in confidence. His grind broadened as he began to mirror her movement.

There were only so many hours one could spend in the library.

And Gillan Eru had definitely exceeded the limit.

He was on his way back, strolling through the temple's halls. A swift glance through one of the tall windows made him once again realise that the city never slept. Hundreds of lights dotted the sky, showing exactly how the skylanes swept through the city. That was something he'd never get used to. The crowds, chaos, and the smell that lingered in the lower levels specifically. It made him wonder what assignments Lyra had in store for him tomorrow. For if it were another 'go fetch this or that'-assignment… Gillan tightened his grip on his datapad at the thought of it. He didn't like Coruscant, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

He was, however, slightly afraid of the freckled padawan he silently stalked through the halls. Jem Gaelor. Blunt, cynical, and at times brisk. But he couldn't recall a single moment where he hadn't caught her in a bad mood. Gillan expected that tonight would be no different, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. Why was she up this late?

The answer was less pleasant than he had hoped. It weren't the training or dining halls, no, Jem was heading for the hangars. And before he had realised it, she had already entered a shuttle as if it were her own.

No, this could not stand.

Gillan emerged from his hiding spot behind one of the marble columns. "Jem!" He whispered, half-scared half-angry, as he approached the shuttle. "What are you doing?!" Was she going to leave without the Council or her master's permission? "Get out of there! That shuttle doesn't belong to you!" He doubted she'd listen without any incentive. "If you don't get out, I swear I'll tell the masters!" Sometimes, you needed to clarify where you stood. And this time, he stood in someone's way. Even if that someone was Jem Gaelor.

Jem Fossk ​

 

[Katachi Ren]

Location: Jakku | Enclave Turbolift Enterance.
Objective: Kill the Jedi
Tags: The Mongrel | Dagon Kaze | Zark San Tekka

A shadow was cast upon the sands of Jakku as a Lictor-class ship descended from the atmosphere. The dark ship landed outside the Jedi Enclave, by a torrent of warriors sworn to the Brotherhood. The landing hatch hissed open as a dark, knight-like figure disembarked with a retinue of barbarous cohorts. The visor of helm burned, like a great eye wreathed in fire. The Black Hand had come to Jakku.

"Go forth, my legion! Bring aid to our brothers!" He commanded, "Bathe this heathen temple in the blood of the Jedi! Enslave those that you can, kill those who resist."

He pointed forth towards the Enclave, marching his warband forth to the temple under siege. He scanned the sights before him. He saw the faint outlines of a figure he knew as the Mongrel and his Scar Hounds. By their movements, he could sense that they planned to blow the entrance. He raised a hand, halting his soldiers.

"Create a defensive perimeter near the enterance." Thaurond ordered, "Kill or capture anything that looks like a Jedi. From that enterance, or going to it."

He looked to the sky as his legion of dark side soldiers moved into position, ready to help the Mongrel and Scar Hounds. Objects streaked across the atmosphere, drawing closer. He unsheathed his lightsaber from his hip, igniting it. A flat, fiery blade roared and hummed from the hilt's gapping mouth. The Kalzerian readied himself.

"Soon, the blood shall come to us....."

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: In prox. Halketh | Darth Solipsis | Dakrul | The Mongrel | Darth Mori | Kyrel Ren | Keilara Kala'myr | BOTM | NSO
ENEMIES: Aaran Tafo | Marcel von Ascania | Zark San Tekka | Dagon Kaze | Jared Starchaser | Other Lightsiders
ENGAGING: Yenna
GEAR:

Spoiler

In Bio
3x Tu'kata

Oo~MONSTER~oO​

He had been in a mood.

Halketh ' little tantrum about the heat and sand would have been comical if it hadn't been for the conflicting emotions about the looming battle that plagued the Dragon.

The forefront of his mind abhorred the Ashla and her agents and wished to wipe them away from the Galaxy, but in the far back, the fraying link to Eenia Vahn hammered against the shut door - that little piece of Light that had worked its way into the Sith Lord's heart.

His mood improved somewhat, however, when he found himself among some of the newly acquired Tu'kata he so enjoyed as everyone made their way down to the surface. The Dark Lords had gone through great lengths to import some creatures for the Beastmaster and the effort was not wasted on the Dragon. He utilised them readily. The Hounds moved as shadows in the night, fanning out around their master.

Dimitri's face was stoic as Darth Solipsis activated the turbolift. The Hounds were quite placid as they moved into the lift alongside the Dark Siders, but when the doors slid open, hell was unleashed upon those waiting on them. As the Dark Lords moved forward and Dakrul barreling ahead, the Dragon directed the Tu'kata to do what they do best - relentless ravaging.

The Sith Lord's crimson blade ignited at the same time as he left his comrades to move on ahead, deeper into the Jedi sanctuary. Feeding on the shock and fear and determination and destruction that spread through the Enclave like a wildfire, Dimitri's Dark resolve grew to a crescendo, drowning out the last bits of nagging thoughts about the fate of the Apprentice he had left behind.

And Darth Hydrus was not planning to visit them any time soon again.

 

[Yenna]

Objective: Defend
Allies: Jedi pals
Enemies: Dark Side baddies
Engaging: Dimitri Voltura | Darth Solipsis

The Sith Lord pushed further into the lower parts of the Enclave, letting his hounds go off on their own to rip and tear into anything and everything they found. They rushed through the hallways, looking for their freshest victim to ravage. But a few moments later, they sailed through the air back in Dimitri's direction before crashing into the walls around them.

Stumbling through the halls into the main room was the little green Jedi, her presence in the force seemingly rather unimpressive. She had a bottle in one hand as her other hand kept her steady against the wall as she wandered forward. She calmly glanced up at the intruders and gave a warm smile. "Hi! New arrivals, are you?" she greeted them as she drunkenly turned to face them. She took a sip of her bottle of expensive whiskey before she held it out towards them. "A sip, would you like?" she offered him before her smile contorted into a smirk. There was no fooling this guy, but that wasn't going to stop her.

"Happy, you don't look. Help you, could I perhaps?" she asked gently with another sip, collapsing against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor. A plastered snicker escaped her as she fiddled with her robes. "Your names, may I ask?" she spoke up as she glanced down the hall with her droopy golden eyes. "Not very friendly, your dogs are." she quipped as she forced herself up onto her feet again.

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Objective: Assist in the defense of the Enclave
Location: Outside the Jedi Enclave
Accompanied by: Arlo Renard, a Chaldean Mystic
Tags: Darth Tennacus Vaylin

Ishani was running toward the Enclave building, into the fray of marauders outside it, when another one of the Sithspawn came bounding toward her from the side. She started to turn toward it, the momentum of her body still carrying her forward, when a third party entered the fight aboard a vehicle, kicking up sand with their approach.

Her weapons held at the ready, she tried to back away from the three different opponents she thought she was facing. The one on the speeder quickly resolved herself into an ally instead.

Ishani was too distracted by incoming blaster fire and in too much pain to really acknowledge the woman’s help. “Yeah,” she said in response to the question about their acidic blood. “Fire hurts them.”

Her sword still burned, flames licking along the edge of the blade, but it was her lightsaber that was doing most of the action as she deflected the shots aimed at her.

Arlo was using her as cover. Having lost his spear, he’d pulled a slugthrower from his holster and was firing it at anyone or anything that got too close. The battlefield was already chaotic, and they were right in the thick of it.

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: Kill all of them
Location: In the Green Room
Allies: Darth Solipsis Darth Mori Halketh
Enemies: Aaran Tafo Marcel von Ascania Starlin Rand Caltin Vanagor
Equipment: Staff of Dakrul, Cursed Gen'Dai Flesh Armour

Dakrul fantasized shortly, how lovely it would be to witness the guardian and his apprentice be devoured by hellfire.

His taunting maniacal laughter continued to echo within the Jedis mind yet the hulking Cha’ta’ri was otherwise occupied creeping deeper into the facility. He wouldn’t look back, that humans' light would flicker and die, this would be the last time the Heathen Priest would see the pair, at least on this plane. They stood in direct confrontation with two of the most powerful warlocks the Mawite cult had to offer. And that was aside the fact that the Sith'ari himself was present, he almost envied them. Their fate would be sealed and ended by the prophet himself, their souls delivered to the Avatars personally.

Within moments after submerging further down the gangway opened up revealing a lush green well-lit courtyard garden. Flora did not exist in the Nether, at least not naturally so instead Dakrul bore witness to a grey circular hall with many small embers kindling or flowing down stone urns decorating the walls and hanging from the ceilings. Fire was life.

But this would change now that death had stepped into the room. His right main arm reached backward until it firmly gripped the staff bound to a satchel on his back. He untucked the necromantic wand and with a single swift motion lifted the crystalline tip towards the transparisteel roof.

A sudden chilling pulse ran forth, and with it, the abundance of bushes, vines, grasses, flowers, and seedlings were killed. Rotting away mere instantly. As if in a fast-forwarded timelapse the verdant greenery faded into a dead rotten brown and black. They were so susceptible, so defenseless, and within moments Dakrul had harvested the life force grown in the underground shelter.

He could feel the flames kindled in his belly, energy that ran through his undead husk, through bloodless veins and a corrupted heart. With his senses heightened and moments to spare he reached out, widened his spirit, let it flow through the bunker.

Voras awoke abruptly, the acolytes head was ringing, still dazed from Caltin Vanagor ´s earlier attack. Everything felt distant as if he was surrounded by a thick mist of sorts. The boy shook it off and attempted to stand, at first he fell again but seconds later he was on his feet. Where was his lightsaber? Where was that damn Jedi? He would kill him, and all the others. He swore it to the Avatars he would murder them.

Still clearly shook he tried to make out from where he had originally entered and was alerted to the sound of footsteps somewhere further down one of the corridors. As he pondered his next move a sudden icy chill ran down his back, and fear crawled into his mind. Something was very wrong.

A voice that gently murmured into his ears, a whisper just for him. “Voras… child… Dakrul has a task for you… yes you have been tasked Voras”

Voras was lost of words and thoughts. "Goooooooo...". He felt doped, somehow floating, yet so in touch with everything all of a sudden. He knew where to go. So he ran. He knew he was supposed to get there, he had to reach this place. Moments later he stood before a beaten bleeding Twi'lek. Beside her laid the corpse of another Marauder. More victims of Caltin Vanagor

The female Mawite could speak but she was clearly injured. "Boy? Is... is that you?"

The voice returned "Kill her Voras... Kill her... killlllll heeeeeer"

The child fell to his knees before her, she could barely lift her head to meet him at eye level. There was a weird blue shine in them, as her vision focused on the azure orbs that stared back at her so intently Vorases firmly placed his hands around her neck. Had his eyes always been this blue? He began to press down, harder and harder. She came to realize she couldn't breathe, he was killing her.

"Gooood... Goooood" Dakrul hushed.

As the dead body slid back against the iron wall she had leaned against a spark erupted around her, out of nowhere a carpet of azure flames fell over the humanoid's form. Voranos fell back onto his rear staring at the smokeless scorching body. A fire so bright it was almost morphing into a white blinding beam. The young Sith protected his eyes from the glare with his hands. Then it disappeared.

A high-pitched growling, the fast-paced clicking of mandibles, drops of slime throbbing onto the floor.

Voras screamed out in panic, the Hungerings claws silenced his outcry. Another flash, another hellspawn Cha'ta'ri birthed onto this realm.

It has begun. Calamity has arrived.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Days past…

There was a disturbance in the Force. He had felt something coming for many days. When Coren Starchaser was stepping away from the active role of combat, and taking it as it came, it appeared to help strengthen his connection to the Light Side. It was providing him much more of the raw Force he was looking for. Not in a matter of becoming more adept at combat, but in a way to better serve the galaxy, better defend, better lead, better teach. However, his roots, and that plan which the Force had for him, was one of the front line Jedi against the darkness.

It had been some time since he was at the Jadelight Beacon, but now he was back in his element, searching the galaxy for the mysteries of the Jedi, and the Force, all the while working hand in hand with the Underground and remnants of a lost government. But the dreams, they kept coming.

And that meant he had to do something about it. He could only remain out of the limelight for so long, both for his own sanity and for his own ego, he trusted the Jedi, but many didn’t have the experience he had. Maybe because he was not allowing them to. His personal vessel, the aging freighter Tachyon Rising was turning and moving from the Rim, he knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t sure on the timing…

Current time…

It helped much more when he could sense his son, and his comrades, more than one, gathering. His son had been to Jakku for a day or so now, and it was providing him with what he needed. Not behind the controls of his freighter, or even his shuttle, though the latter was aboard this vessel now. Seated in the navigator’s chair, modifying the hyperspace route. The hangar doors were opening, the magnetic containment screens keeping the shuttles inside. Alert craft were ready to launch, but this ship’s captain, none other than Torc Ven, the son of former Alliance Supreme Commander Nemo Ven wanted the shuttles to conserve fuel.

“Fighters, on stand by…” The Mon Calamari ordered as Coren got up from the navigator’s chair and over to the mission commander’s seat. Finding himself comfortable there, he was timing the arrival of the Scythe to real space. Sith in the air, Sith on the ground, internally, the call went out from the Mon Calamari to launch.

“Bring our people to safety, bring fire support to the fighters on the ground. X-Wings, get the fighters to the ground.” The call went out on the internal ship wide comms.

Coren, on the other hand, had access to the battlefield station. “Invading forces, this is Jedi Master Coren Starchaser on the Scythe heavy cruiser Spirit of Sullust. Stand down and vacate the space immediately.” He was a Jedi, but he once held a highly prized rank in the defunct Sullust Alliance. But he knew how to fight a war as a Jedi. A compliment of corvettes, receiving less by-the-second updates to their hyperspace computers than the Spirit arriving, each with their fighter escorts.

A shift in the frequency. “Romi, Zark, you two really can’t go anywhere without me, can you? Support on its way.”

Zark San Tekka | Romi Jade | Caltin Vanagor | Okkeus Dainlei | Veino Garn

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...​

Location: Jakku Enclave - Down hall from Green Room

Spoiler: Lightsabers

"ELOAH" (Primary - Long Handle)

"ELOHAI" (Secondary - Long Handle)

Spoiler: GEAR

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added)Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Spoiler: STARSHIP/COMPANIONS

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Jedi Interceptor in landing bay, Dilorian and Bike both in cargo bay)
Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"

Tag: Aaran Tafo Dakrul Romi Jade Darth Solipsis

On it, will do.

The call from Tafo made Caltin certain that there was some huge monster that was coming. The New Jedi Order's BattleMaster was good and if he was already dealing with one, this guy was tough. Caltin made a turn down towards to previously misread passageway he had overlooked. It made sense because whoever this big guy was... wait was that the kid he had just knocked out? Quickly the massive Jedi Master made his way to follow the kid, disappointed in the kid's choice to reconnoiter and not simply exit the area. This could be a mistake on his part but with the presence that he felt, it seemed to be right. This presence, it was similar in oddity to that of the undead by name of Kyrel but this was another level entirely. Voras seemed to be in a daze when he finally stopped in front of the two Twi-Leks. Through some type of dark magic no doubt under influence by the four-armed beast nearby he killed her. Engulfing her in some kind of blue flame it was clear the kid had made his choice.

Or did he?

The monster was clearly in charge and he killed the kid, brutally just outside the green room.

You didn't even give him a chance...

The massive Jedi Master did something unexpected to many, maybe not the monster in front of him. He sheathed his long-handle lightsaber Eloah and began to walk towards what would be his next opponent no doubt. Step after step turned info bound after bound, soon his walk became a power-walk, then a jog, then a sprint. No Force assistance here, not yet anyway, there was nothing Dakrul was going to do about this. It was within arm's reach that the Force jumped in and turned up his speed as he went to grab the monster in a kind of "tackle" if he was successful they would crash through the wall into the more open area. If not? He could take the punishment of a counter.

Once to their feet, he would simply stand fists clenched. Caltin was no magician, but he had his own set of tricks.

You can knock a kid down. Why don't you try knocking me down?

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

 

[Jem Fossk]

Objective: Stop a Snitch
Location: Coruscant response shuttle
Tags: Gillan Eru

Spoiler: The Story

Objective: Sneakhelp
Location: Coruscant response shuttle
Tags: Gillan Eru

They didn't know she had access to the emergency operations channel. If they did they probably... wouldn't be happy. This was why Jem used her brother's holo credentials to break in and give it to herself. What the elders didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

What Saan'an Gaelor didn't know wouldn't hurt either. She just had to be there, the fate of her stitched up heels be damned.

Sneaking onto the shuttles was as easy as pie if you knew how to do it. Why would any Jedi have reason to be concerned about security on THEIR neck of the woods? Nah. Their attention was out there, towards the battle Jem desperately wanted to be in. She slipped into an unmanned shuttle, the door stuck open as she leaned half in to tear at some wires. Somewhere in here was the right-- aha.

She inserted her boot-chip and watched as the system was overridden. Lights flickered on. The engines booted up. She grinned, the wayward half of her body pulled into the shuttle as she swirled in the seat.

Bingo.

His first comment just slipped out. But the response he received, the raised brow in particular, gave him a boost in confidence. His grind broadened as he began to mirror her movement.

There were only so many hours one could spend in the library.

And Gillan Eru had definitely exceeded the limit.

He was on his way back, strolling through the temple's halls. A swift glance through one of the tall windows made him once again realise that the city never slept. Hundreds of lights dotted the sky, showing exactly how the skylanes swept through the city. That was something he'd never get used to. The crowds, chaos, and the smell that lingered in the lower levels specifically. It made him wonder what assignments Lyra had in store for him tomorrow. For if it were another 'go fetch this or that'-assignment… Gillan tightened his grip on his datapad at the thought of it. He didn't like Coruscant, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

He was, however, slightly afraid of the freckled padawan he silently stalked through the halls. Jem Gaelor. Blunt, cynical, and at times brisk. But he couldn't recall a single moment where he hadn't caught her in a bad mood. Gillan expected that tonight would be no different, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. Why was she up this late?

The answer was less pleasant than he had hoped. It weren't the training or dining halls, no, Jem was heading for the hangars. And before he had realised it, she had already entered a shuttle as if it were her own.

No, this could not stand.

Gillan emerged from his hiding spot behind one of the marble columns. "Jem!" He whispered, half-scared half-angry, as he approached the shuttle. "What are you doing?!" Was she going to leave without the Council or her master's permission? "Get out of there! That shuttle doesn't belong to you!" He doubted she'd listen without any incentive. "If you don't get out, I swear I'll tell the masters!" Sometimes, you needed to clarify where you stood. And this time, he stood in someone's way. Even if that someone was Jem Gaelor.

Jem Fossk ​

Ah, chit.

Jem slowly swiveled to face him, her expression pinched and contained as she frowned up at the robed form of ... what was his name again? Gilmo.

She took it all in. His indignation, his threats, his puffy cheeks. Damn. She had not made a friend out of that one. Wasn't her fault he was so fun to stab. He meant business too. Her breath slipped through her teeth in a slow hiss.

"If you don't get out, I swear I'll tell the masters!"

"Fine. If you say so." Jem slid out, unbothered as she broke for fresh air. "Hey, can you turn that off for me?" She looked over her shoulders, his frame hovering over her shuttle for--

A pulse of the force slammed into him.

She rushed in after him, a jumble of limbs colliding in the tight space as the door closed in behind her. She found space for her knee in his back. She only needed to press one button and autopilot took over.

Gravity smashed them down as the ship took off.

Can't snitch if he comes with.

~~

 

[Darth Senthral]

​

Darth Senthral
Occupation: Sith Apprentice to Darth Tennacus
Objective: Kill the Light Friends
Weaponry: Crimson Cross-Guard Lightsaber "Hope's End", DL-22 Blaster Pistol, and the Dark Side
Engaging: Ishani Dinn Vaylin ​

The Xenomorph was on the offense, but the enemy before it was no stranger to defense. Then there were two, and yet the beast's instincts could not stop it from it's continued assault. It was there to kill, whether that were it's wishes or not, IF it were even capable of wishes. The ally that arrived was though, a streak of white that separated the newcomer from the Jedi. A Loth Wolf, white fur, and yet eyes black as pitch. It had whipped around and skidded to a halt, facing both the enemies. Yet when it came full stop, it did not attack, some black cloaked figure came off it's back. Darth Senthral himself, the Sith Apprentice in the flesh. Facing the Jedi and Zabrak alike, now here in assistance of the Xenomorph and his own Loth Wolf.

Nearby a scream sounded, a fellow Jedi of theirs facing a gruesome death. Senthral knew not how it killed this such prey, but he knew it was one of the Xenomorphs he had brought with him from the Wandering Pilgrim. He knew because it tailed him by his own force dominated command, and soon it reared it's ugly head behind the enemy. Now they had four against two, and surrounded on three sides. Yet he felt the odds were still not in his favor, and he knew he wouldn't have it any other way. "Think of these beasts as a test, are you worthy enemies? Can I fight you knowing I will not slay you too easily. We shall see, maybe you and I alike. You may be stronger than you yourselves believe." Words came distorted, and yet understandable from the Sith's mask.

Three crimson shapes came alight in his hand, one forming the blade, and two the cross-guard. It was unwieldy, and unalike his last 'saber, made by a fool. Yet he had rebranded it "Hope's End" a blade that would slay countless, despite it's faulty craftsmanship. There was no mercy this weapon was capable of, no 'saber was. Jedi and Sith alike took lives everyday with the weapons, and they would continue to do so forever if it suited them. Peace was truly a lie, when enforced by those with blades so deadly. This such blade was loaded with a Zophis Crystal, already a hard to control crystal, devastating but unstable. It had been through much, it was crafted into the 'saber incorrectly. The bleeding that occurred long after maybe didn't help it's structure, and yet within Senthral's hands it really seemed to be "Hope's End." A warped blade, crackling and shuttering as it stood alight, now pointed at the Jedi and Zabrak alike.

'I am unyielding, a Force of Nature. The Darkness is seen as a cancer to many, but even so it has been here all along. For truly there are no beginnings nor endings.'

 

[Romi Jade]

Heading for the main facility...
[Theme]
-------------
​

Turbulent bouncing to an eerie chorus of squeals reverberating from the vehicle—unthinking, a wild woman, hair flying—she pushed the vehicle to its max potential.

Gasp!

She scrambled with her free hand. "Starchaser!," she muttered into her comlink, giving the dunes a quick scan. Nothing was visible yet, but the sound was definitely coming closer. "Oh my--it's good to hear a friendly voice. I'm about 12 standard minutes out. How bad is it?"

She hit a bump, and besides the shriek denting metal, she was able to stiff arm the wheel; she lost the comm. Then there was interference on the frequency, a few other voices came through in patches -- a voice that sounded like Caltin Vanagor

From where she was, "Caltin there's a bunch of static! I can't--" One quick glance up, and she almost went head first into one of the larger dunes. Her other arm streamed up, and with the deft flick of both wrists she cut a hard left while gently putting pressure to the break. At the sudden eruption of sand, she shifted her feet back and hit on the fuel. She rode the vehicle through rough curvature around the hill and back on course.

And suddenly the whole plot seemed to come to a screeching halt. Before she could deduce it all, a hulking mass hit the frame of her speeder and sent her ruggedly spinning.

She made an high pitched animal noise on impact.

Eheuh!

She crouched into the seat, covering her head, as the speeder went through its first roll and stopped half way through its second. Fine, mostly shaken up, she met the full air smell of hydraulic fluid, and the spurt of liquid turned into a torrent that began spreading in a thick but small pool. As Romi rolled clear she realized, a bizarre characterization of what had just happened. But the impression nevertheless remained. Whatever the creature was, it was suddenly watching her with dying ass...it was already dying before it so careless got hit.

But it did a number on that speeder of hers...so it was durable.

"What in the karking hell." she muttered.

She'd been through worse.

Sigh.

A shift in the frequency. “Romi, Zark, you two really can’t go anywhere without me, can you? Support on its way.”

"Coren?" she heard the robotic tone, and she recognized the voice. She glanced over at the speeder...

She shot over and snatched the devices, "Starguy! -- Wait Zark too? -- I don't know if either of you can hear me but I'm close..."

She started a light jog, stretching her stride to gallop up the dune before crawling with her free hand. She could see the conflict now, and feel it even more so. "I'll be down in 5. Jade out."

Jared Starchaser | Zark San Tekka | Darth Solipsis | Dagon Kaze | Coren Starchaser
----

Aaran Tafo | Starlin Rand | Marcel von Ascania | Ishani Dinn | Vaylin | Jem Fossk | Ripley Kühn

Halketh | The Mongrel | Dakrul | Keilara Kala'myr | Menelik | Khamul Kryze | Taeli Raaf | Darth Mori | Darth Tennacus | Kyrel Ren

@Anyone I missed​

 

[Halketh]

I N F E R N O
H E A V E N L Y
The Aegis of Woe
prox. Marcel von Ascania Caltin Vanagor Dakrul

The heat of Darth Mori's pyre behind him, the voices of the surprised cast by his heels, the Dark Lord of the Sith pressed onward in silence, unperturbed by the various squabbles and fights breaking out amongst the rank- as was only expected. Gauntleted fingers lifted to press the opaque glasses he donned more securely in place, their crimson lenses flaring with the reflective cast of devouring flame. The Presence of the Light here, the way it caressed his consciousness and soothed the aches rattling his soul weighed upon him heavily. Every step casting him deeper into the silvered torchlight saw regret creep its way along his spine and wrap its hands around his throat.​

"Whenever you're ready, Kezec. I will be right here, waiting for your return."

Her voice resounded in his stride, every sandy boot planted into the floor saw it echo from the hall around him, reverberating into the crevices of memory he had long since abandoned out of fear. The way the Light brushed at the shards of his peace, how it struggled to reassemble their razored edges without cutting itself, the way it embraced him. It was all too familiar. Snakes writhed in his gut, twisting tightly around the wrath he felt in a silent threat to strangle it out entirely. The Divine shook his head weakly, rattling the voices back to their far corners where they could reach him no longer. And yet--​

"There are many, many trials on this path, Kezec. You know this better than most. And I have watched you grow into a disciple who will serve The Order in a capacity sparse few could fathom through them all."

--she persisted.

A heated blade wrenched itself through his stomach, twisting into a silent evisceration of the Dark Lord. His stride faltered, unsteadying his balance amidst the unexpected surge of metaphysical pain made tangible, and he found himself halted in place. Drums pounded in his temples, veins overturning beneath paling sickly hide as the flood ensued to overwhelm him. It would try. The Light was a harbor for those who desperately needed respite, it was a palace of fortune for the weak and weary, and a safe haven from the toil and torment the rest of the galaxy was perpetually subjected to. Perhaps most of all, Caelitus was one in desperate need of such a place. The Dark Lord gasped audibly, his teeth soon bared to none with the struggle of coping with such pain, the cascading tide of memories and emotions he would carve out of his skull with a knife if given a chance.

Yet it was all so unrelenting.​

"Halketh....I l-love you...”

Kezec sucked in a quivering breath, grasping at ephemeral straws with the memory's sudden arrival, and unlike the choir of ghosts haunting him, he longed for it to stay. The voice... the one who had cherished him as no others had before. That voice had been his home, its depth his thunder, and its strength his comfort. His everything. The only peace he had come to know in his extended years. And it too, like all else, had been lost. Scars split open, stringy flesh snapping and breaking with his patch jobs falling apart at the very seams. He couldn't endure it, not as he had been, the weight had grown far too heavy with the gravity of this place.

He grieved in silence, not for himself, but for those who his poison had taken from him.

Master Muwian. Ezra Dune . The only two in this wretched galaxy who had ever shown him the kindness that many took for granted; love.

In the depths of his woe, he could not muster sobs. No, something new, a different comfort arose quickly to combat the surge of emotions wrought forth by the invocation of the Light. Disgust. The mercy and kindness of the Light had forsaken him all of those years ago and now that he stood to bring its glare to end, it embraced him? It was weakness, pathetic, the way it toyed and played with his emotions. It plucked his strings, fumbling in the depths of his misery to strum a chord that would see him wounded further. And it would find none.

Grimacing lips curled into an outright snarl, his task further cemented in his mind by the rather sudden shove into his back through the intangible- and as much was immediately noticed. The Dark Lord stumbled forward, turning quickly in his recovery to flash that malicious snarl of his in the direction such action was cast from, and when the shimmering sliver of Light he had acted toward prior caught his Sight, he felt the hammers against his ribs crash into the fiery frame of his disgust further. Marcel von Ascania .

Twin claws wrenched through the smoking space before him- the very nature of the flames rising within the enclave's entrance beginning to burn his throat- and he growled through the sting, his voice growing more distorted by the emotions ripping at his cords: "If you're so insistent on suffering, allow me the pleasure." He had given her a chance to make a wise choice, one she had dismissed. The collision of his plated hands locked his fingers together, and with them, the very molecules in the air around the padawan would excite to the point of rapture within a heart's beat, sparking to ignition with the fullest intent on enveloping her within a cloak of immolation.

It was the cry of voices behind him that garnered his attention, though his head did not turn, nor did he shift his stance. When the incantation against Creed was complete, his hands were freed, and both reached out to each of his sides. Approaching were yet more flickers of Light, gleaming brushstrokes through the veil of nothing. His focus found them, honing in on each of the Presences he felt- a triad of weak shimmering hope. Abruptly, those wicked talons of his clenched upright, the gesture earning gurgling chokes and the harrowing crackle of sundered limbs from behind him. Joints were twisted out of their sockets and beyond- each body he grasped twisted and bent into shapes far beyond mortal comprehension with every crushing turn and squeeze of his hands. Blood soured the floor and stained the walls. "Die for your Order all you wish, it's no more heroic now than it was the first time, nor will it grow any less entertaining when I shadow these halls and savor it again."

The broken bodies splattered to the floor behind him, splashing into the puddles of their own blood with his disinterest in breaking them further. ​

Romi Jade Dagon Kaze Aaran Tafo Darth Solipsis Dimitri Voltura Starlin Rand ​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

JEDI ENCLAVE
JAKKU
PRETTY MUCH NOWHERE
Coren Starchaser Romi Jade Dagon Kaze Aaran Tafo Starlin Rand Marcel von Ascania
Keilara Kala'myr Katachi Ren Darth Solipsis Halketh The Mongrel

​

"Had to be through pods, hadn't it, Gener-- Master San Tekka?"

"Better than crash landing in a dropship, trust me."

Master San Tekka nodded at the young Jedi Knight, sensing him through a battlemeld he maintained with veteran's concentration. Dagon reminded him of his days as a wayseeker in the Kathol Outback. He too had once shared a sense of vigilante justice. Now Zark was something else. Others could sense it, like the way his young ward wasn't sure whether to treat him like a monk or his commanding officer. Jedi were supposed to be keepers of the peace and yet he'd dedicated a lifetime to the art of war. Few could maintain such a balance without tainting their spirit.

"We're not alone," he warned the others, "Stay close. Conserve power."

From his belt Zark produced the star compass Quill had entrusted him with last visit. As soon as it settled on a bearing the Jedi General ordered them to advance. Talon Squad fell into position on either flank leaving Dagon to figure out his own place amongst the strike team. Maw cultists were already crawling over the old irrigation system. Their arrival from orbit had not gone unmarked.

"Starguy! -- Wait Zark too? -- I don't know if either of you can hear me but I'm close..."

"I'm here Master Jade," the Jedi spoke calmly through his vambrace's comlink, "Glad you got my message, Starchaser. Has the enclave been evacuated? Its the Maw. They're crawling all over Jakku."

With each dazzling flash of his lightsaber Master San Tekka deflected another energy bolt. Alliance marines returned fire. He could feel the Force move darkly through them but the Jedi was an island of calm discipline. That focus radiated through his allies until it reached the marauders keeping vigil in a defensive perimeter around the enclave's main turbolift and slowly bled away at their will.

"More of them!" Zark turned to intercept a new barrage, "They've got the high ground!"

Another mob of raiders appeared over the horizon as they crested a large series of dunes.

"Dagon!" he brandished his energy blade toward the Maw on their flank, "Take a heavy weapons team and clear out that ambush."

He pressed on with the rest of Talon Squad toward the dark presence whose very presence corrupted this sacred ground. His guardian armor bore another pair of new scars from the sheer volume of blaster fire and exotic weaponry directed their way.

"Surrender or face Alliance justice!"

There wasn't even a pause in the action. Still it seemed worth a try.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

Objective: Destroy the Enclave
The Whispering Swarm
Vehicle: Wandering Pilgrim
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Engaging: Ishani Dinn Vaylin
Tags: The Mongrel Darth Senthral Ishani Dinn Vaylin Keilara Kala'myr

Tennacus had submerged himself into the Force. Even from where he was, he could feel the tides of the Force crash and lunge in the presence of the light. He thought Darth Senthral might have turned the tide in their favour, but he should not have been surprised to sense that they were rallying their numbers. Understandable: one Sith against two Jedi was still an unequal fight, but the Jedi might have had a chance if they rallied another two or three warriors to their numbers. While that Xenomorph was still alive and capable of fighting, they would be unreasonably unmatched. It wasn't Senthral against two Jedi: it was two Jedi against him.

The Xenomorph was temporarily disabled as the bike came rushing in to hurl it across the sands. If not for its exoskeletal armour, it might have suffered graver injuries other than being rendered into a temporal state of disassociation with the task at hand. In the rising presence of the Sith Apprentice, the Dark Side exuded motivation back into it, with the creature kicking up from the sands to scurry at his side, now fuelled with a certain vengeance towards Vaylin . The greed of the Dark Side demanded it slay them both itself. If the Sith present with it did not keep it in line, it just might have become overwhelmed with such cravings, incapable of thinking rationally. But for now, it waited - patient, but ever growing in its hunger. It realised it needed to observe them - learn how they manoeuvred so it might better outthink its prey.

The Sith Lord attuned himself to the menacing beasts that had breached the turbolift. So far, they appeared to have not detected any Jedi of significant amidst their slaughter, slaying the likes of trivial warriors forced to take up a defence to protect their facility. He'd had hoped for them to have make a more impactable move by now, but for the moment their slaughter was just diminishing the numbers. If no reasonable Jedi would come, he'd abuse the opportunity to stake the Sith's claim over the domain.

His hand reached towards his ear, establishing a connection with the droid piloting the ship. To his left there was another crate sealed specifically for preservation.

"77-B, take us closer over the turbolift. If they aren't going to take up necessary arms then I believe the time has come to strengthen our numbers." The Sith paused, turning to face the crate.

"Deploy the Ovomorphs."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

BLACKEST NIGHT
THE GREAT ERROR vol. I
Issue #12

"Better than crash landing in a dropship, trust me."

Fair point.

He hardly remembered a time during the Stygian Campaign when his strike team did a clean landing. It had always been a crash and somehow Dagon always managed to come out of it alive. Still, the drop pods hardly looked more reassuring.

Triviality aside, he could witness beyond the rolling dunes the forces of the Brotherhood descended upon the enclave's entrance like a dark, locust cloud hellbent on carving through everything that stood in their way. This raid would've long been ended had the target have not been Jedi. The Maw's Sith masters had somehow found a way to strike frontier worlds without bumping Alliance alarms. He recalled a piece of intel he had read not long ago - something about a mystic astrogational tech in the hands of the cult.

The Knight wondered how long before that cleared a route straight to the Core.

An answer Dagon wasn't keen on finding out.

"Dagon!" he brandished his energy blade toward the Maw on their flank, "Take a heavy weapons team and clear out that ambush."

"On it." he nodded, igniting his own cerulean blade and taking point for a team of heavy weapon marines and leading the way towards the flank. Holo-blue burst from his shoulders projecting a blueprint of the Enclave. It didn't take a Thrawn to realize they were severely outnumbered and outgunned, and their sole goal here was being a distraction, mitigating damage and withdrawing. No full, not even partial, Alliance strike force could be levied on time to get here and beat them back. Even if he had been blind, the thick darkness corrupting the ethereal was telling enough.

They engaged the first line of Maw forces sent to keep them at bay. He remained steady, shifting to Soresu, aiming to be the bulwark soaking the marauder's fire while the marines focused solely on shooting at the enemy. One marauder emerged from their firing line in a suicidal charge at the marines with a war cry chilling the bones. Aided by some form of cybernetic enhancements, his speed was enough to escape most of the blaster fire unscathed.

"Surrender or face Alliance justice!"

And then, he exploded sending a powerful concussion wave across the dunes and a thick cloud of smoke into the sky.

"I don't think they care!" the raven-haired Jedi yelled back at Zark, hand in front of his eyes and feet buried into the sand from the explosive wave. One of the marines had apparently struck the explosive. Lucky. Otherwise, they'd be lost in a thousand pieces of flesh across the desert.

And I don't think I'm great playing shield.

Splitting the dune into halves and burying the marauders seemed like a neat idea in his head but it was beyond his abilities, or rather beyond the amount of time he was given. The New Jedi were hardly the Skywalkers and Sunstriders of the galaxy, hardly the greatest Jedi of any era. Just some young adults, brought up without masters, flinging themselves at death with a light stick in one hand and some rough skills in the Force in the other.

So flinging myself at death it is...

<"Mast-- gener-- Zark! The tunnels beneath the enclave - they lead into exit points away; I'm gonna punch through this line and try clearing a corridor for those that are being evacuated." then the frigate in orbit's gonna send some shuttles, pick up the survivors and delta outta this dustball. Delta? I am an honorary Denonian now, I guess. Plan sounded solid but every plan always did. It just never survived contact with the enemy.

Enough brains.

The Force swirled around his feet and he leapt into a burst of speed right into the Maw's flank firing from the dunes. Right at the maw of death was where he felt most alive. A pirouette, a kick to the face, the momentum carried into a handspring straight into a marauders chest, then the blade came into play cleaving off an arm before its hilt was thrust into another breathing down his neck.

His comms reached for Romi Jade , <"Master Jade, it's Dag - we're gonna--"> a backflip away from a flamethrower, <"--clear a path for those withdrawing--">a lapse of focus and a scattergun grazed his shoulders flinging the pad right off, <"--from the tunnels, just hurry!"> Viers, Viera, Violet - he'd met them all here, then nearly led them to death on Generis. He owed them at least this.

Aaran Tafo Marcel von Ascania Jared Starchaser Caltin Vanagor
Darth Solipsis Halketh The Mongrel Dakrul Menelik Khamul Kryze Katachi Ren
TO ENGAGE: Keilara Kala'myr
​

​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW​

There is no escape.

The New Sith Order and the Brotherhood of the Maw had barred the exit with their advance as the Jedi attempted to evacuate and stall their greatest foes from delivering them all to an early grave. The way was shut. Whatever hope they clung to was misguided, foolish and in the end would too be robbed from them like their now forfeit lives. The way was shut, all that was left was for The Mongrel to blow the charges to the other turbolift and all that lingered within.. would be trapped.

The way was shut.

All the Jedi had now was to survive on borrowed time. The Dark Lord drilled his fist into the abdomen of the Jedi Battlemaster, Aaran Tafo . His opponent was more than skilled with a blade and close quarters combat in general. He had crossed paths with this one before and had heard many times of the skill this one carried from his student Maestus .

In his prime as a Jedi, the Dark Lord had trained with Mandalorians under the banner of Strider Garon , rogue Graug sworn to Cyril Grayson, the Battlemaster known as the Dark Man of the Ession Reformation, and many others. His career had been physicality and brutality in the fires of trial and tribulation. The much younger and physically fit Battlemaster had seen his share of battle, forged as he was a paragon of light amidst a sea of darkness, a valiant defender thrown into the chaos of the Third Imperial Civil War. He would find no easy challenge with this old man, especially one such as he.. restored and filled with divine purpose.

In self defense situations head butts are a pretty common move, one that can really do tremendous damage. The forehead is actually thick bone and ramming it into someone’s face can end a fight immediately as well as knock some teeth out or easily break a nose. Mix this in with augmented strength via the Force and you have a recipe for disaster. He had willingly stepped into the personal space of his opponent with his full attention cast on the Jedi as he threw his counter attack from the one place most easily accessible to counter the encroaching Dark Lord.

As he sprang forward, the Dark Lord’s preternatural senses kicked in, the very same senses that kept a Jedi or Sith hyper-aware. The same hyperawareness that allowed them to perform impossibly feats such as deflecting a blaster bolt or parry sudden blows by lightsaber. His backfoot pressed back as he leaned in with his left arm folding back immediately and pressed forward in a chicken wing under his neck. Putting all his weight into his opponent, his enemy would rest his head into the Dark Lord but it would not have the effect he intended as his momentum would be robbed from him.

The Dark Lord hissed with a sinister sneer, he pressed forward with all his might in order to try and continue his advance down the hall. His right hand reached for his hilt clipped at his belt, readying to ignite his blade and deliver just punishment.

​

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jakku, Jedi Enclave Main Turbolift
Allies: Keilara Kala'myr | Darth Tennacus | Katachi Ren
Foes: Zark San Tekka | Dagon Kaze

At his command, Ziare - no, it was Mercy now - set off in search of the Jedi drop pods, a squad of the Scar Hounds' finest at her side. The Mongrel had faced enough Jedi to know that each was a little demigod, so powerful in the ways of magic that even their younglings were often worth a dozen warriors. Their masters could break entire armies and decide the fate of worlds. But the Maw had stood up to them for years now, had dared to hunt the mage-knights despite their power, despite the terrible losses they took in every such battle. And the truth was...

The Mawites were learning how to win.

If The Mongrel trusted any marauder other than himself to be able to stand up to a Jedi in battle, it was Mercy. He had known from the first moment of their duel that she was special, and now that she was on the Brotherhood's side, their enemies would rue the day she had fallen into the Maw's clutches. Still, the warlord was glad to see that she would have support in the fierce battle to come. Though this was the first time they had come face to face, he recognized Thaurond by reputation. This was the marauder who had risen to replace the fallen warlord Maweth.

The Mongrel was not yet sure what to make of the man in the burning mask. He had seen little of Maweth and his tribe since the early days of the Brotherhood, and could not judge either him or his successor. But he respected that this warrior had, like The Mongrel himself, clawed his way up to the position he now held. He offered Thaurond a nod, one masked warlord to another, as the other man's warriors spread out to bolster their defensive perimeter. Together they would destroy this entrance, then hold back the Jedi reinforcements.

Until the Dark Voice had finished his work.

Thaurond's timing was excellent, for at that moment the sound of laserfire began to carry over the planet's arid dunes and jagged rocks. The Alliance forces had arrived. "Tarar Warbands, forward!" The Mongrel ordered, waving his scavenger veterans up to the ridge. The Tarar were marauders who had survived long enough to amass a decent collection of scavenged weapons and cobbled-together armor, as well as a good bit of experience. Their signature plasma rifles would soon turn these hills of sand to glass... and burn brutally through the ranks of the foe along the way.

"Engage the second detonation," The Mongrel ordered. The Mawite technicians scrambled back from the turbolift, the gaping hole into the Enclave though which the sinister Whispering Swarm had just entered. Once at a safe distance, they hit the detonator. The detonite explosives blew, and once again the turbolift shook. The top of the structure fell, its supports carefully and systematically annihilated, and scraped down the sides of the turbolift shaft with a horrible screech of tortured metal. That massive debris blockage would keep any normal being from escaping that way...

... but perhaps not a telekinetic Jedi.

"More!" The Mongrel ordered, barking the command at his tech-monks. "Ruin the entire shaft. Collapse the sides and fill it with sand. Erase this entire entrance from the face of Jakku. We cannot permit the Jedi any possibility of escape." He stepped forward to oversee the work personally, both inspiring his warriors with his presence and driving them hard with his words. He had learned that it was vital to take no chances with the Force-mages; their magical tricks knew few limits, if any. "The rest of you, hold the line. Let none approach!"