BLACKOUT (Galactic Alliance Invasion of the One Sith held Coruscant.)

[LT-137]

Location: Unknown, Last Sighted Above the Palace District.
Mission: Survive
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, Rogue Squadron, BB-24 'Buttercup'
Enemies: The One Sith
Equipment: DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol

Wordlessly, I shattered the muted silence blanketing the sundered chamber with a cry of anguish. My body had understood that the danger to my life had passed, and the naturally occurring adrenals within my system began to filter out. As I came down from this almost super-human state, every muscle began to spasm and ache. My eyes had seen that underneath the torn and carbon-seared flight suit, I was mutilated by yet another latticework of freshly carved scars. They would not heal well, and as a dirt covered finger hovered over the seared flesh caused by a blaster bolt that I didn't know had shot me, I began to fear that the pallid skin wouldn't recover at all. Forcibly sucking in a mouthful of air, I started to crawl towards the door, watching as my Droid companion trundled along the floor littered with debris. Trying my best not to laugh at her attempts to move through the recently materialized obstacle course unhindered, I focused on the opened doorway before me.

Reaching out with the only arm that seemed to desire to follow my mind's command, I drew closer to the entranceway and the shattered hallway there after. It seemed the force of my X-wing's rapid descent had penetrated through the empty tenement and burst into another, effectively cutting off my escape to the lower levels. Wonderful. That meant my path would lead me up the nearby steps and along those ever winding flights of stairs - until I had reached one of the levels in this Hab Block that held an exterior garage. Getting to the stairs was going to be half the battle, and the other half would come from actually crawling up each padded step. There wasn't much choice, as the only other option that I had was to sit silently in a room filled with decaying corpses and wait for someone to find me, or move to higher ground and seek out my friends and see if they suffered a better fate than me.

Breathing in another pained lungful of recycled air, I grabbed handfuls of the ash-stained carpet and slowly worked my way towards the stairs. Once before the daunting spectacle, my lips had soured into a frown. I was starting to regret this decision. Shaking the thought from my mind and steeling myself for the agony I was about to inflict, the fingers of my only working hand had grasped onto the textured edge of the tenement's staircase and began to pull my weight up it's serrated slope. I made it up two steps before the agony surging within my angry nerves had demanded that I stop. It wasn't going to be easy, but I had to continue if the great Bard was going to survive to sing another merry tune. No. I doubt that I would have anything to sing about if I made it through this mess. Though, I surmised, such an outcome would depend entirely on what had taken place during this botched Invasion.

"Remind me... to throttle the idiot... who thought it was a good idea... to invade en masse," I said aloud and to no-one in particular.

With my break done and feeling somewhat stronger that before, I began my ascent once again - turning my attention away from the steps as a nervous and annoyed string of binaric cant chirped in the silence behind me. "Oh, that's right," I turned my gaze towards the opening between the stairs and sighed. "Yeah, use one of your cable launchers. See if you can get to a landing and Hotwire us a ride, I'll make my way there... eventually." Groaning as I pulled myself up another step, I turned away from my mechanical companion and focused solely on the task at hand. While it was normal for me to be scatterbrained, it didn't feel appropriate in this scenario. With my mind sharp, I was able to deter the fire in my nervous system from engulfing me whole - something I had picked up after several years of being under that vile woman's lash.

That boon was something I would never, ever thank her for, but as fresh agonies threatened to burst through my ethereal wall of Will, I begrudgingly accepted that I was grateful for what it had done to my weakened form.

When BB-24 had rolled into position and fired one of her Liquid Cable launchers at the platform above, a smile had adorned my lips as I watched her rocket towards the higher levels. However, in the scant seconds that followed her rapid ascent, my ears rang with the sounds of blaster fire, and I felt my heart sink.

"Oh no..."

 

[Vexen]

[member="Lyle Baelor"] [member="Micah Talith"] [member="Kaili Talith"]

"What the..." Two pairs of hands reached for weapons, coming to an abrupt halt and quivering as Vexen touch a stun baton to each head.

Vexen dropped through the open hatch and into the vehicle, leaving the gunner and soldier splayed out across the hull. Two men in the cramped confines inside. One went for the comm system whilst the other tried to get a weapon from a case on the wall.

Vexen chose the tank commander at the comm station. She ducked and twisted into the small space. The human turned to face her as she brought her arm up, stun baton crackling with blue energy. She whipped it down across the side of his face. It struck hard enough that even a regular baton would have sent him to sleep.

A faint tremor in the Force, easier to recognise than it had once been. She darted aside and the bolt struck the back wall with a shower of sparks.

Drop it

The man looked down at his treacherous hand, unable to understand why it had dropped the blaster. He looked up as the demonic shadow crossed the space between them. What followed was absolute darkness.

Vexen emerged from the tank, panting hard. "Time t'get inside!"

 

[Darth Centax]

Mission: Lassoing Avenging Mandalorian Angels.
Location: Sith Palace, former banquet hall. Uninvited House Guests and Messy Eaters!
PC Enemies: [member="Mia Monroe"]
NPC Allies - Background Unless Engaged.

Spoiler

Rough Total: 8800/19000 | Civilian Insurgency: 3500
2,000 / 8,000 - 769th Coruscants Own, Skirmishing Stormtroopers
Local Individuals
2,700/ 4,000 - 770th Loyal Sons and Daughters, Heavy Infantry Stormtroopers
Nyx and Mythos Clones
1,300 / 2,000 - 771st Faceless First, Scouts and Recon Stormtroopers
James Justice Clones
2,800 / 5,000 - Sithwatch Militia | Growing Number of Civilians
*Wavering Moral but nowhere to run?
19/30 AT-AW | 47/90 Blastail–MC1 – 772nd Durasteel Dogs (DuraDogs).
Rohlan Verd Clones
Memorial Wall Defenses - Condition: Badly Damaged | Blastshield No More - Invaded!

​

​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udX3xj5dRtk​

Wounds became as battlecries of their own, if only to stay living. Centax had become the ruin.​

She sent him into the burning of her ruined vengeance, for her to feel.​

​

[member="Mia Monroe"]

Lassoing Avenging Angels​

​

Technique long hammered into him, force now gripping firm for her unfortunate back. Using the force of her own telekinetic push against her, to possibly pull, carry her along with him into that fiery hell. Facing her own fury made real, that of a karked off Dark Jedi master, concentrated forward on flaming vengeance as she was. She could probably break his weakening force grip, but the pull's kinetic force exerted on her toward the fire, was more her momentum than his.​

Caked in fire, armor certainly helping him survive, at what cost now was debatable, molten metal causing snarls of pain from his teeth. No technique such as a bubble shield to protect himself, having relied on guns, armor, soldier and grenades till today.


Grenades. Cried often as excessive force to bring. No. There was a reason force users avoided grenades, especially sith. Centax unfortunately had yet to learn it. As the belt was cast off barely in time, they detonated from the combusting air, flames, sending him further backward, and possibly her the other way. Stun flashes, smoke and shrapnel joining what she’d already given him. The mixed ordinance well and truly cracking his remaining armor open, fire sealing wounds in pained memories to come. As the Darth lay there struggling to find breath or sight. Bleeding heavily, one hand up the wall, edging himself to his feet. Burning legs that were being forced to stand, sonic pistol in his other hand. Blinking weary eyes through the smoke and rubble, water soaked his bloodied armor to wet the running wounds, searching to see if she was there.

Sprinklers were coming on to put him(them?) out. If only to spare one or two of the servants inside, who were screaming in their own torments from the area onslaught. Not the elite of course, they’d long left, just those forced to stay behind in their service. Now he understood what it was to drown those voices out too.

[member="Aver Brand"]

Aver not only got the power generator's location, which were operating almost all of those mini gungan-esque surface shields dotted about, but also the colonel would leave an ace in the hole, the location of the AI's core operating the PDS system and turrets. If she was pressed to reveal it, otherwise she'd keep her mouth shut, saving that in case a gun was put to her head in the future.

What did happen though, was that one of those automatic grenade launchers turned her way. Nothing a good shot to them wouldn't fix. The face of Zerde, the chiss General watching them on the monitors above them, before they went to static. BOOM one came their way! She could wreck things with the best of them, and was a survivor sure, if she could save her hostage was now the real question! If she did she'd have just made a new best friend, if she didn't, well it'd be another cleaning bill all over her best dress.

NPC Actions:
[member="Aver Brand"] Learns the location of the main power generator, running the majority of the bunkers remaining defenses! And gets shot at for her trouble. #tongue poke.

Personal Gear:
X1 Officer Armor | MRS-1 Modular Assault Rifle (Wrecked Dropped) | 4x Mixed Grenades (Exploded) | Lightsaber (Right Hand) | Personal Ray Shield (Damaged from rubble)| Crushgaunts (Bolted through Hands) | Jack Knife Pistol (Left Hand)

 

[Aver Brand]

Centax Memorial Wall
Research centre --> Generators
[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Darth Megnentis"]

A few heated exchanges later, Aver had her forearm wrapped around the neck of a skinny bith babbling at the pace of a full-auto EWeb. If his brain weren’t the key to her success, the merc would gladly blow it all over the remaining guards just to shut him up.

Alas.

Also, grenade launchers. Important stuff. She could always be annoyed later, when someone wasn’t plotting to smear her innards all over the walls. Pesky explosives. The turret shot, but some precise Force-meddling had made sure it would backfire. Horribly. Though a Force-user, Aver rarely applied her powers. When she did, however, it was always with great impact. Instead of blasting her and her hostage to kingdom come, the defense emplacement blew up on the spot, throwing back some of the guards hunkered down behind it.

The next thing she knew, the Colonel was pressed face-first into the cool ferrocrete of the bunker, metal jabbing her back.

“What do you want, schutta?” she grunted, pushing back against the merc out of sheer spite. Not that it made a lick of difference.

“You’re coming with me, Testa. I like your style.”

“Like frak I am!” With a surprising bout of strength and the help of Bevog at her side, deCrion managed to shake Aver off. Wasting no time, Testa brandished a combat knife with a wild grin on her face. Despite the mussed hair and wrinkled uniform, she was still more a Sith soldier than the countless armored troops Aver had carved through on her way down.

Pride swelled in her chest.

Immediately after, the Colonel’s blade screeched down the plate protecting her breast, redirected by a twist of Aver’s hips. Testa panted spit at her visor as they wrestled, teeth bared all the way to the gums. The merc accepted her grinning invitation and smashed her helmet into Testa’s face. Thank you, [member="Quietus"].

CRUNCH
(That was a nose.)

The Colonel stumbled backwards, stunned by the force. Blood ran in thick rivers from the mess of splintered bone, smearing down her mouth and chin.

“You’re frakking dead, queen!”

Well, let no one ever say that Sith backed down from insurmountable odds. In the end, however, the soldier was fighting a Force-using cyborg with a penchant for murder and a killcount higher than the population of Kuat. She never stood a chance.

“Take me to the main generators, my dear man,” Aver said as she finished wiping her hands into Testa’s uniform.
“And don’t even think about crossing me, or you’ll find out just how kind I was to the Colonel here.”

Even against the rumble of artillery and falling rock, she could hear the bith swallow.

“Certainly, ma’am. Straight to the generators, ma’am.”

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[SIZE=14.6667px]FOUNDATION MAINTENANCE TUNNELS, TWO STORIES BELOW THE VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]ALLIES: [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Meeristali Peradun"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Gabriel Sionoma"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Marcello Matteo"], [member="Alen Na'Varro"], [member="Lilin Imperieuse"], [member="Arrbi Betna"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]ENEMIES: [member="Darth Erebos"], [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Tes Dralyn"], [member="Sera Inkari"], [member="Jake Daniels"], [member="Lassiter"], [member="Darth Pyrrhus"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Still sitting against the wall, Mara reached down the neck of her Iron Skin bodysuit and pulled out the Ankarres Sapphire on a silver chain. Pound for pound, it was the strongest healing artifact in the ‘verse, comparable to the Healing Crystals of Fire but infinitely more portable. It burned the Dark Side on contact. Her aunt Rave had theorized that it represented the apex creation of some long-forgotten crystal crafting tradition. It wasn’t, so far as anyone could determine, a Jedi artifact.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]She glanced at Julius, Stali, and the few others who hadn’t left to join the fight just yet. She hadn’t mentioned this part of the plan, largely because bringing the Ankarres Sapphire here was a massive risk and she’d expected opposition. The crystal, though, was hers, and so was the decision. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]As the crystal’s intense power stripped away her bumps and bruises and fatigue, Mara sagged against the wall. She’d rested, caught her breath, and been refreshed; the nexus’ power helped with that. But the nexus had a taint to it -- recent, but strong, the result of sacrificial rituals. Yet this nexus had tens of thousand of years of Light Side history behind it. It had been corrupted before -- by Nyax, probably by Palpatine and the original One Sith -- and healed itself in short order. The nexus wanted to be pure. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Link up with me, folks,” said Mara, “and let’s shift the balance of the Force.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Meeristali was the first to join her; then a couple of Jedi Knights. The Ankarres Sapphire, the nexus’ pure root, and the circle of Jedi all combined. A disturbance began to take form -- no, that wasn’t the right word, she realized. Disturbance was what had been done to this place, but the Force was older and stronger than what these people called power. So was the Sapphire, which could just about revoke death -- and which could burn away the Dark Side. Using her expertise with crystals and specifically the Sapphire, Mara amplified that aspect of the Sapphire’s power. Around them, the negativity of the nexus faded, but its strength remained. One portion of the nexus cleansed.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The aura began to expand through the foundation corridors, half-visible as a blue-sparking shell. It drew from the Jedi link, from the Sapphire, from the nexus’ root, and from the shifting balance of the Force brought about by a dozen Jedi Masters at a critical time. Eventually, it would swell up through the foundations into the Valley itself. The aura's purpose wasn't to harm Darksiders, though they might find it uncomfortable. Its purpose was to sluice the petty filth out of the nexus, cleanse the root, unfoul the wellspring.[/SIZE]

 

[Eralam]

Deep in the oldest parts of the Holonet, parts that most organics never even thought to check, there was a Conclave, of sorts.

To the casual observer, it was a room full of avatars. Some were cartoonish, some monstrous, others plain. All were Shards, or at least the digital representations thereof.

At the front of the virtual space stood what appeared to be a tall, thin human male. His untidy hair and wire-rimmed glasses gave him the look of an overzealous academic, an impression not lessened by the frown that creased his face. Pale skin, too pale to be natural, seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. Brilliant green eyes shown from behind the glasses, twin emeralds against a backdrop of snow.

The avatars here often bore names, so the being behind it could be known without having to repeat the same introduction to everyone in the room. The tall man needed no introduction. They all knew Eralam.

The ancient Iron Knight had been a fixture in the Shard Network for as long as anyone could remember, and Shards could remember for quite a while. He was brash and reckless, far too careless with his not inconsiderable power not the tastes of most present. The Network relied on secrecy and subterfuge. Eralam reveled in notoriety and chaos. The Network made plans decades and even centuries in advance. Eralam was practically spontaneity incarnate. There were many who considered him the single greatest threat to their long term plans, and lobbied to have him removed from the Network or, better yet, assassinated.

What they didn't know was that Eralam wasn't just a part of the Network, he was the Network. It was his brainchild, conceived in the early days of Palpatine's rule. It wasn't until after the massacre of nearly the entire Shard race that he began actively recruiting, opting instead to quietly lay the framework that would protect them for centuries to come. His public persona was carefully calculated. If there was one lesson that had repeated itself time and time again over the years, it was that no one ever suspected the big dumb brawlers of being anything but. The world of spies and espionage was chock full of quiet competence in the form of men and women who could put a dagger in your back before you ever knew they were there. That sort of person immediately discounted anyone who didn't fit their ideal image of a covert operative. They assumed Eralam was nothing but a mindless cannon, brainless enough to be harmless to them, but dangerous when pointed in the right direction. This gave him incredible freedom to move and act that would have been denied had he stuck to the world of shadows.

There were maybe three people in the room who knew better, who had seen the real Eralam, and feared the day when he would cast aside the cloak of buffoonery he had wrapped himself in and take things seriously. One of them was a tall woman on the front row, equally as pale, but with hair to match. Her sapphire blue eyes glinted dangerously, her predator's face contorted into a scowl.

Eralam looked over to the woman.

"Where's your Boss, Koko?"

"He's not coming," she replied. "Conflict of interest."

"Typical," he muttered sourly. The Iron Knight turned towards an exaggeratedly cuddly cat. "Pearl, are your people here?"

"All present or accounted for," she purred. Pearl was yet another who knew the real Eralam. She had followed his example, publicly adopting the guise of a foolhardy astromech duelist. Behind the scenes, she controlled the Network's Coruscanti branch.

With over a trillion citizens, Coruscant was easily large enough to hide an entire planet's worth of strange and unusual species. At one point in time, the Shard population here numbered in the millions, with many of them living openly. Years of constant warfare had prompted a mass migration to calmer parts, but there were still around three hundred thousand left. Only a tiny fraction of those who remained wanted anything to do with the Network, and no one blamed them. Network activity was often dangerous, and there was no guarantee that they'd be rescued if things went south.

The room was mostly populated by those few that chose to answer the call.

"Alright, listen up!" Eralam shouted, trying to get everyone's attention. Shouting wasn't strictly necessary, but it made him feel better. "Before we begin, I want to stress that this is not a combat operation. No one here should be fighting. Do what you have to if you get jumped, but otherwise, stay out of it. Safehouses will have a designated defender, and I'll be floating around as necessary, so please, for the love of Orax, keep your heads down."

There was some mutinous murmuring from a pocket of Iron Knights off to the side. Eralam glared at them, and then pinged them with the priority authority codes that had been assigned to him for the mission. The murmuring stopped. They might not like it, but the codes were authentic. He was in charge. They didn't need to know that he had assigned them to himself.

"Our priority is not search and rescue, either. If a building collapses, or gets blown up, or swallowed by a black hole, there's not a whole lot most of us will be able to do, not without exposing ourselves. Folks, don't expose yourselves."

As expected, the room dissolved into nervous giggling. Eralam waited for it to subside.

"Focus on getting people out of trouble spots before the fighting has a chance to get to them. Once we get done here, you'll be given your area of responsibility and a designated safehouse."

The safehouses, in this case, took a variety of forms. The undercity of Coruscant was largely abandoned, meaning that there were plenty of places where large groups of people could be safely stored without anyone being the wiser. The safehouses were stocked with food, water, and medical supplies sufficient to let the folks hiding within ride out a battle in relative safety. The plan revolved around the GA being more humanitarian than the OS. Had the shoe been on the other foot, Eralam was pretty certain the OS wouldn't think twice about blowing away a safehouse if they thought it could further their goals. On the surface, at least, the GA was trying to play up their differences with the Sith. They wouldn't throw that away by targeting unarmed civilians. Hopefully.

"How are we supposed to cover the whole of Coruscant by ourselves?" asked someone in the back.

"You're not," replied Eralam. "You can extend your reach by operating remotely, but I don't expect you to do the impossible."

Remote operating referred to hijacking droids, usually harmless utility droids, and using them as drones of sorts. Since most Shards had inhabited a utility droid at some point in time, they had a unique perspective on how they worked. Finding backdoors into their sensory feeds was child's play. It was one of the first things Shardlings learned how to do after joining with a droid. Controlling one completely, without leaving a trace, was much more difficult. It was one of Pearl's requirements for becoming a full fledged member of the Coruscanti Network.

"Save as many as you can, but don't get cocky. Don't take unnecessary risks, and don't get involved with the fighting. The safehouses are large enough to hold as many people as we think will willingly come in each sector, but remember that we'll probably only convince a small portion to come with us. Don't force anyone who doesn't want to come. That defeats the purpose."

"Hang on," said an anthropomorphic taun taun off to the side. "If we're only saving a small percentage, why bother?"

"Because we can," Eralam replied. "If we turn our backs on folks when we can make a difference, however slight that might be, then we've wasted the power we've so carefully amassed over the centuries."

"That's bull and you know it." The speaker was the only one in the room that actually looked like a droid, a solid black R2 unit with a distinctly weaponized feel to it. The dome mounted minigun was sort of a giveaway. It was also the third person in the room to know Eralam's true nature. This particular Shard was as much a legend in the Network as Eralam, but for much different reasons.

Its name was Goran Starkiller. Unlike most Shards, it didn't adopt a gender to make life easier for organics. It cared not one whit about the flesh and blood occupants of the galaxy. They were all equally worthless in its electronic eye. It was a reaver, a killer, a murderer without conscience or remorse. It was also the number 2 Shard in the Network's hierarchy. Goran and Eralam didn't like each other, but they knew they couldn't dispose of one another without bringing the Network crashing down with them. And so they had held a tense truce for centuries. Eralam organized and planned while cavorting across the galaxy, throwing himself into whatever fights he pleased and secretly sowing the seeds of the Network in his wake. Goran dealt with threats to the Network, ruthlessly eliminating targets. Together they made a good team, though no one outside the inner circle knew it.

The room waited for Eralam's response with bated breath. As far as they knew, the pair were mortal enemies.

To their surprise, Eralam cracked a grin.

"Think of it as public relations, then." His tone was frosty, but there was an undercurrent of amusement. "How many of these people will feel indebted to us, when all is said and done? Grateful organics are useful organics. Even you can acknowledge that."

Goran waggled its minigun up and down, its version of a nod.

"Fair enough," it said. "I'll stick with your plan...for now. Don't kark this up."

Eralam nodded.

"If that's all, then let's get to it."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Bakarl family huddled in their apartment as the battle raged in and around their building. They weren't poor, exactly, but their apartment wasn't large, and it was in sort of a rough neighborhood. Charl, the head of the household, was a large, swarthy human with arms the size of tree trunks, bulging with muscle earned through years of hard work. His gut was equally expansive, layers of fat over solid muscle that strained the buttons of just about every shirt he could find in a store. Matthias, his husband, by contrast, was small by Zabrak standards, and had been since childhood. He was frail compared to Charl, but they were just as determined to protect their adopted children, Zoe, aged 7, and Doma, aged 4. They huddled together in the apartment's tiny refresher, shielding the children with their bodies. Charl had already sustained minor injuries when the window was blown out. A gash on his scalp bled copiously, and his right knee was swollen.

Imagine their surprise then when one of the neighborhood's cleaning droids, covered in graffiti and badly in need of repair, rushed into the house.

"Come with me if you want to live," it said. Charl and Matthias were confused. These droids only ever spoke binary. "Yes, yes, I know. Emergency protocol ID-10 Tango has been activated. I speak, therefore I am. There's a safehouse not far from here. Come on, then."

Charl, already in pain and confused, just stared dumbly at the droid.

"Let's go," Matthias urged quietly. "It's not safe here."

"But what if..."

"If it's a trap? Then it's a trap. If not, the children will be safe. We can't stay here, Charl."

The big man nodded. Matthias was always the sensible one. They followed the droid, keeping the children between them and shielded from harm as best they could.

As they left their apartment, they could see other families following droids as well. Well, if it was a trap, at least they'd have company.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On top of a skyscraper, Eralam and Koko watched the battle progress. In the real world, Eralam took the form of an assassin droid, tall and skeletal. The fingers of his right hand rapped steadily on the butt of an ancient revolver in a holster on his right hip. In his left was his lightsaber, unlit.

Koko looked much the same as she had in the meeting: an unnaturally pale woman with snow-white hair and a face that was too predatory to be truly beautiful.

"So what are you going to do," she asked, having to shout to be heard over the din of the battle.

"I'm here under the aegis of the One Sith," Eralam shouted back. "If they send me to fight, I have to fight. Until then, I'm trying to keep the Network's operations from attracting too much attention."

Koko nodded. She was here on the Boss's orders. Even if he couldn't be here himself, he recognized with Eralam was trying to do, and had sent the most capable person he knew to help. Koko was a master planner and organizer. Sometimes, Eralam wondered if she wasn't a latent Force Sensitive herself, the way she instinctively manipulated the system to their advantage. He would have smiled if his face was capable of doing so. Koko the Shard: the galaxy's first bureaucromancer.

It was highly unlikely, of course. She had as much aptitude with the Force as the building they stood on, but the thought brought him some amusement.

"How are things going?" he asked.

"Folks are starting to trickle in," she replied. She held no datapad, but Eralam was willing to be she had other ways of keeping up with the data traffic. "We expect it'll be another few hours at least before the first safehouses are full. How long do you think the battle will last?"

"Hard to say. The Galactic Alliance has the ships and the people to pull off a win, but the One Sith are just as prepared, and they've got the homefield advantage. Could be a few hours, could be months. No way to know for sure."

"I was afraid you'd say that. Well, nothing to it but to wait."

And wait they did.

Location: 2 klicks north of the Valley
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: GA, anyone interfering with evacuation

 

[Julius Sedaire]

FOUNDATION MAINTENANCE TUNNELS, TWO STORIES BELOW THE VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
ALLIES: [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"], [member="Meeristali Peradun"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Gabriel Sionoma"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Marcello Matteo"], [member="Alen Na'Varro"], [member="Lilin Imperieuse"], [member="Arrbi Betna"][/size]
ENEMIES: [member="Darth Erebos"], [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Tes Dralyn"], [member="Sera Inkari"], [member="Jake Daniels"], [member=Lassiter], [member="Darth Pyrrhus"][/size]

Hearing the words, Julius slipped the interface to the drone into a pouch after parking it just above where their tunnel exited. It would alert and chime should someone be detected on its' various scanners. Useful little bugger, this device really. Eyes lighting on the Sapphire, he nodded in understanding and looked to 'Stali, who took a guarded pose to the side, almost undetectable in sentinel duty over the entrance. This was the perfect place really. An excellent choke point, very defensible. A handful could stand against hundreds really. Two unbelievably skilled Jedi Masters who made dueling and warfare their symphonic masterpieces in utterly different styles could do the same or better, and they had more than just that. An extremely skilled crystallurgist and possibly the most powerful crystal known to exist.... Even once they pinpointed things... It was a good place..

And that crystal? It happened to light up the night like a sunflare, a powerful artifact of healing and combating the Dark Side. Julius already guessed why Mara hadn't said anything about this plan, and was glad he stood next to her, watching her. There was no reach when he sagged, even if his muscles twitched towards her. That was what he prized about his friends in the Alliance and the Outback. An indomitable will and independence that enabled them to do truly incredible things. Mara had impressed upon him the same sense of things her father did, and that had drew him to the Outer Rim. Shaking his head, he adopted a ready posture, and closed his eyes, beginning to stalk back and forth in front of her.

Some might mistake the pacing as nerves or worry. Certainly there was a tinge of that, quickly subsumed in the link between him and Mara. Nothing existed except that crystal and the woman holding it, and the gently pulsing energy that flowed from their collective. Into it he poured the temporal wound that was himself, feeling even that being righted slowly. Alchaka, moving meditation that he had first learned from Marasun, motivated and narrowed his focus from the selfish goal of protecting one he couldn't really answer how he felt about to a purer goal of protecting all those that stayed behind to help, pushing his considerable skill, raw and untrained, into the gem.

The Valley above was wrong, and the land cried out for it, wailed under its' influence and sacrilege. Right or wrong, what the Republic had strove for, what the Order had strove for, was pure in intent and purpose. It had been corrupted by man, just like any other concept or goal. Now, those who had once scorned it came to it, called to it to revive, to rekindle and quicken anew. To burn forth from them into the very source of the sickness of this planet. Grey-blue eyes opened as he continued his walking stance, loose and almost arrogant in his saunter, and now in better control of his emotions, not an eye towards Mara.

That bit would come later. For now, the mission took precedent, and he served her and the other goal best by serving it.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Coruscant - Financial district
Outside the wreckage of an AT-AT with two lightsabers (Darth Jar Jar's lightsaber in his right hand, an orange w/ black core lightsaber on his left hand)
Music: Unavoidable Destiny (FFTA)
Allies:

Spoiler

PC: [member="Lisette Kuhn"]
NPC: Army of Malastare (minus 1st infantry company): 380/675, 1st and 7th Legion: 9,465/12,000

Enemies:

Spoiler

PC: [member="Abyss"] [member="Clovis Torcularis"]
NPC: Unknown (but rumored to be in the thousands, and also thousands of casualties)

"Hold yoursa fire! Don't shoot until da enemy fires!"

Abyss now being down on his knees and disarmed, a few meters away from what was his AT-AT, Ugohr sensed that he would be falling for a trap if he had his men fire on him. Nevertheless he had his men slowly advance towards Abyss' position while maintaining safe distance. He was forked about what to do with the Sith acolyte: taking him as a prisoner and he would spring a trap and firing at him would spring another one, just different traps in each case. But the camera drone was still under the control of the Sith acolyte, which was probably part of the enemy trap's mechanism, too. But he shut down both lightsabers upon making his approach towards the enemy commander, that Sith acolyte that only moments ago was engaging Alliance soldiers at point-blank range, and now is using the camera drone in an attempt to blackmail any Coruscanti viewer still tuned to GNN. But Ugohr knows that SCNN cycles through all feeds while on air.

"Halt!" Ugohr ordered while still maintaining safe distance from the Sith acolyte. "General Abyss, surrender and mesa see personally that yousa will not be mistreated. This offer will be extended to any surviving stormtrooper or vehicle crew"

One Sith and Galactic Alliance often sent somewhat junior officers to command their forward units. Today the Army of Malastare may have defeated the enemy forward force but because the dark side clouded Ugohr's vision, he couldn't tell just yet what reinforcements were to be en route to engage them, or if they were any. He slowly advanced while not firing or otherwise attacking positions in the devastated street and then enters a tug-of-war game using the Force to wrest control of the camera drone away from his opponent, at first without success. His opponent showed, in the Force, that he harbored some hope of getting what little reinforcements he could, despite light-sided units such as the 3rd, 4th and 6th Legions, the army led by [member="Elaine Thul"] and the 5th Legion, among other elements engaging other One Sith elements over in Central Centax, the Black Pyramid and the Senate building respectively. When, in a moment of weakness of his opponent, he finally manages to get the camera to close in on him, Ugohr begins to speak in it, knowing that the audio component still worked:

"Yousa deal with just one drone camera: da other drone cameras scattered elsewhere in da city. Yousa can only tell so many lies on galactic holonews! Because yoursa local media outlets captured, wesa can tell Coruscant residents that yoursa trail of destruction dat led usen here today started with yoursa own capture of Coruscant"

"The One Sith Fifth Army's morale is wavering: the Sith Palace has been breached!" the Gran grenadier shouted, although not with the same projection as a Force-taunt, using a position report from another unit elsewhere on the planet.

"Yoursa hope of reinforcements issa faden, Sith Lord: remainin One Sith elements barely hold theirsa own lines"

But Ugohr knew that he couldn't either stay in that position for long or hold on to the camera drone for long. He had one hand ready to reach for Darth Jar Jar's lightsaber just in case the enemy trap sprang and required a lightsaber to deal with.

[member="Abyss"] [member="Lisette Kuhn"] [member="Clovis Torcularis"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Your mistaken jedi, I am not a general and neither do I command soldiers. I am just a man defending his home. Maybe I will not be mistreated as long the people of coruscant are still watching, but what will happen afterwards? I will not allow your false prophets to influence me until I become just another tool to enforce the tyranny of the jedi on coruscant once again. So no, I am not gonna surrender to you ... but none of your man has to die. The jedi always say they will protect these who serve them. Just you and me jedi, here and now. I don't want to kill these brave man that were brainwashed by you and you alliance. So show some honor and defend those you have sworn to protect ... or is your live worth more than that of these poor lost souls following you?

The young acolyte knew that @Ughor Poof had almost no other option than to engage him in a duel, at least as long the camera was still running. The enemy thought that they could use propaganda against the sith, but Abyss would show them what happens to those who attempt to fight the them with their own weapons. A duel would give him time to tell more lies to the people of coruscant. He slowly rises from the ground, his hand pointing towards the hilt of his lightsaber. He could feel the sharpshooters getting ready to shoot him should he make a sudden move, the moment the lightsaber was pulled in his hand. He keeps the hilt in his hand, without activating the weapon.

"It's time for your decision jedi, who has do die. You or your man?"

[member="Clovis Torcularis"] [member="Lisette Kuhn"]

 

[Loray Tares]

Moments coinciding with activity in the interrogation room...​

​

Location: Coruscant Underworld → Centax Memorial Wall
Tags: [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Darth Megnentis"]
Objective: Cause trouble
Gear: In biography
NPCs: Sergeant Demitri Ortan, Comms officer Aaron Baskovick (Both members of the 769th Breakout Company)

Aaron sighed heavily, rubbing his brow. Power had been rerouted through the complex, kicking on for primary energy sources. Air conditioning must have not been on that list. The Epicanthix comms officer looked up at the ventilation, the way the ribbons were hanging against the metal and not blowing, he sighed again.

"What's wrong, Officer Baskovick?" The Chiss Sergeant looked towards the radar, the power supplies pushed towards the artillery shells and the shielding, which were failing. Aaron shook his head, comm set rattling against his slicked back black hair. "It's nothing, just feeling a bit...restless." He looked up, catching the glance of the red eyes, and smirked. "There's no one here, we don't have to maintain title."

Demitri gave a waning smile as he laughed, looking towards the array of surveillance. "Has the dispatch team corresponding back about the interior threat?"
"Tom and Jeff? No, nothing yet." Aaron pushed the non officer titling a bit more, to no avail.

::....FORCE USER....INTERROGATION ROOM....RUN JEFF...::

Aaron snapped his hand to the communication.

::Repeat, Alpha team. Repeat.::

Silence came over in the form of static as Demitri rushed forward, clicking on the surveillance array. Moving the camera through the open area of the interrogation facility, nothing was found. Except for what appeared to be a body, missing a head and slumped against a wall.

"Jedi?" Aaron stated, as he began moving through the various surveillance footage. There were multiple narrow hallways, each with their own Turadium blast doors and defenses, that separated lower central control and the interrogation facility. And somewhere between the two places, the memorial wall. Aaron clicked over to the memorial wall and caught the flicker of a shadow with a prominent trail of blood washing across polished floor. Defined yet defused, imminent of jagged dragging.

"No, I don't think so." Demitri put on a face of stern fortitude, but deep beneath the blue flesh, he realized for whom they worked. And just the sort of betrayal that is to be expected. "Go to Hallway A-1."

Aaron clicked the keyboard and flipped through the visual displays, finding the hallway quickly. Gun metal on the walls and floor, once bright white lights that were blown out and replaced with the flashing red alarm sirens. Turning up the volume, he disconnected his head phones for the Sergeant to hear. Sirens and the feint sound of clothes against the floor, mixed with wetness. But it wasn't steady, it was in intervals.

"What...what is that?"
"I...have no idea." Leaning forward, Demitri lost that brave expression he normally wore like armor.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJbqplkBBv8​

​

A faint shadow emerged, man painted in the displays of smoke and blood tendrils. The surveillance seemed to distort as he moved, stepping and yanking. In his left hand hanging low, the collar of a soldier and the body that he dragged slowly behind him. The image began small and only grew larger as he approached the angled camera, indicating movement towards the blast door. In the hands of the dragged corpse, a round item seemed attached by black cord.

"What...what the kriff is that?!" Aaron threw his headphones at the screen and hit the security initiation. The blast doors to hallway A-1 snapped shut. Demitri, on the other hand, squinted at the screen. "That's our force user. And thats...Tom and Jeff." Demitri moved towards the locker, opening up the reserve cache of equipment. "Fire up the turrets, online for hallways A-1, A-2, B-1, and C-3. Shut all blast doors and prep the detonite!" Just then, the surveillance seemed to be entirely disrupted, filling the screen with white static.

Aaron rolled over to another screen, showing the display of internal security measures. Clicking on the communications and working simultaneously on the defenses, he spoke loud and stern.

::All remaining 769th regiment fireteams, report to central lower control immediately. I repeat, report to central lower control immediately.::

Turning to the Sergeant, Aaron continued to work and talk. "Most have been dispatched to defend the exterior of the facility. We are reporting multiple breaches, I don't know how many we have left."

"Whatever the number...It will have to do." Demitri clipped the last bit of the Inquisitor variant of the Imperial Stormtrooper Armor. On his hip hung the force-imbued sword, sheath dented from heavy use and showing the wear and tear of a true practitioner. Typically, the Sergeants of the company are afforded blast swords only. But for Demitri, a special concession had been made given his efficacy. "What are you doing?"

"I'm no use here. I'll be leading our fireteam in defense of the interior."

The defense screen lit up brightly, flashing red and green intermittently. Responding to the peripheral stimulation, Aaron turned and gave an update. "Grenade launchers at Door A-1 are reported as destroyed. The hallway was caved in through deployment of munitions." Scanning over to surveillance of hallway A-2, Aaron leaned in and squinted. Down the length of the hallway, he could see sparks at the Turadium door. And what appeared to be a violet saber beam moving slowly through the metal. "Attack appears to have had no effect."

"Very well. Send the fire teams to me, I'll head off the intruder. If I shouldn't make it back, use the detonite. I'd sooner see this place beneath rubble than allow it to be taken."

"Yes sir."

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Tags: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], possibly [member="Break"]
Objectives: Find the son
Location: Valley

"Stun setting...it's like you know me." He said with a smile, looking down the length of the barrel. He carried a dissuader with him but the beauty of armor piercing ammunition was that he could aim it at an extremity. These days, everyone had access to high end materials for armor. Made armor piercing corrosive ammo quite the particularly effective addition. Folding the stock back, he strapped the item to his hip, opposite the pistol, and instinctively felt for the lightsaber. It wasn't something he was particularly attached to, though it did provide him a sense of normalcy. Combined with his various created artifacts, he looked for some notion of ease and comfort. And he found that in the brief memory of snow falling upon Arkania, grafted images to the ring resting on his finger.

A family trinket, one he had taken to not wearing due to [member="Cerusia Darke"]'s natural tendency to recoil from it. But having understood the impacts of his own crucifixion on his resolve, he knew he might need it here. That in the torrent of darkness looming over head, he could recall the memories of family and warmth. It drew upon notions of those who he lost, but still remembered, and those he found along the way. People like Jacen, Stali, Ava, Spark. Pulling on the importance of their presence, he pushed on and followed the other Marshall through the conduit.

He didn't have time to respond to the notions about familiarity in this place, of the possibility of failure. He sensed the heavy burden of guilt, from multiple avenues, and it's waning impact on Jacen. But then there was Dave. Just like Dick, afterall. As Jacen moved forward, isolating one of the acolytes, Gabe took on another. In another life, there would be no mercy or quarter given. Reverance was an abomination, no regard for the sanctity of life, and for the time he had spent with him, Gabe had felt that concept soak in like tar in the sand. And on Lujo, he felt those sentiments rear themselves in the form of hard thoughts. Quickly overcome by exhaustion, he still felt the guilt of such an impression. The red lightning, it held far more power than he expected.

The lightsaber of the acolyte ignited with an off hip grip, the sort that seemed inviting. Gabe understood this to be more of a form held in arrogance, as if challenging the master to an even fight. One he wouldn't provide as he side stepped the stab. Left arm came in, punching hard at the wrist. The right hand flipped the pistol in his hand, driving the grip hard against the temple. Sending him twirling over, the acolyted landed just in time to provide silence for the shot delivered from the stun gun by Jacen. Both unconscious, Gabe knew there were more incoming but he couldn't help but respond to the previous comment.

"I'm not one for fate and I wont pretend I am." He huffed. "But you've made a choice to save your family and that is admirable. Succeed or fail, you must give it your all. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself otherwise." He smiled once more. "And I would never let you hear the end of it."

 

[Jake Daniels]

Location: Valley of Lords
Allies:
Enemies: None. Everyone fears Gravis.

​

Arrogance is thinking you are above somebody else.​

Confidence is knowing you are.​

His lips pressed to the plastic cup. His ice blue eyes watches the chaos that consumed Coruscant. The sounds of distant explosions, the rumble of buildings, ships, and speeders crashing. The smell of soot on the air as hundreds of fires raged in the vicinity of the Valley of Lords. Yet as the ground vibrated. As the soil was coated in the crimson of the fallen. As the air darkened like a midnight sky, a single man sat on a ledge overlooking a valley that seemed to become a focal point of the assault. Stoic. Patient. Calm. Everything that Jake currently was, in turn was everything the assaulting Jedi and their forces were not. A single Sith, like Satan himself, watched as the world crumbled and all because of the arrogance of mankind believing what they were doing was for the greater good.

​

There is no salvation in this damnation.​

​

The Knight gently lowered the cup with both hands. He watched as feeble Jedi Knights assaulted Sith Lords, only to fall. He watched as Sith Acolytes challenged Jedi, only to be knocked aside as if it were nothing. Many skilled combatants on this field, unfortunately none worth the time of the Dark Knight known as Darth Gravis. What made the Sith Knight different from most? Was it arrogance? No. Jake didn't think he was above everyone else. The man knew he was. Some might have scoffed or mocked the Knight. Ultimately it wouldn't have mattered. Not a person alive had Darth Gravis' track record. Not a single person around could hold a candle to him.

As the Galactic Alliance razed a world, murdering its civilians in the name of freedom, Darth Gravis was content. As the One Sith valiantly fought back against them, Darth Gravis watched. Why would he not jump into the fray? Why would he do nothing to defend the territory he claimed allegiance too? Who said Darth Gravis was doing nothing? The man was watching. He was learning. He was waiting. Already he knew the biggest weakness of the Galactic Alliance. They were like an aggressive boxer; everything went into their offense. Little to no training on defense. Wouldn't the logical step then to be a simultaneous counter attack?

Ah, yes... but that would be a lesson the One Sith would have to learn after today. Take this one on the chin so that tomorrow they could connect an all encompassing uppercut when the Alliance least expected it. By every and all account, it appeared the Alliance pulled out their best for this assault. Gravis wasn't certain but if he were to go back through One Sith records, odds were the same thing happened each time they attacked. That meant they would be open for a counter, no? Granted one could not plan for an unexpected invasion of this magnitude but you could prepare for it. Its what he helped the Old Sith Empire create. A plan. A spreading of their forces on key worlds. When one world was hit, and hit hard, the remaining forces would counter via a bum rushed assault. Like an arrow piercing a deer, they would find the heart of their enemy. While the enemies best were on another planet, their heart would be ripped out without them knowing until it was too late. It was affectionately called The Jedi B!tch Slap Maneuver. It never failed. It wasn't long until those war mongering Jedi cooled their jets.

The Warmongering Jedi of Gravis' time had learned what the red arsed baboons would in due time. Jedi were not supposed to be attackers. They were defenders. They were supposed to be beacons of light and yet all Darth Gravis saw was the darkness that came with their invasion of Coruscant. Like wolves in sheeps clothing, these Jedi... err... Sith wannabe's, had laid a punishing beating not on the Sith. Hell every Sith Gravis noted was still up and kicking. All these red arsed baboons had done was kill hundreds, thousands or perhaps tens of thousands of civilians in this ill-thought out attack. No one would know the total until the dust settled.

Yet as the ground continued in its constant vibrations. As the soil was saturated in the crimson of the fallen. As the air darkened with the ash of a thousand fires, a single man sat on a ledge overlooking a valley that served as a focal point of this invasion.

Stoic. Patient. Calm.

For Darth Gravis saw all that the Jedi had made of Coruscant...

...and it was very good.​

​

​

Welcome to the Dark Side... Galactic Alliance.​

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Location: Steps of the Sith Temple
Allies: [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Tes Dralyn"]

Glacier-blue gaze drifted only briefly in the direction of the Togruta Sith that approached the pair of Jedi Masters silently. Before his friend and former apprentice even fully formed the thought in his mind, Marcello could feel the man's choice of action. In truth, there was no need to feel anything. Apart from the woman that occupied part of his heart, Ryan Korr was the closest person to Marcello. In a way, one might say that Marcello's heart was divided into unequal parts; Kiskla taking half, Ryan a fourth, and the remainder of the galaxy the residual fourth. Rest assured - his actions would indicate such rather clearly.

In the old days, the Jedi Order might have frowned upon such a reality. Indeed it was a weakness, a liability. However, rather than use his emotions to fuel an unnatural connection to the dark side, the Jedi Master accepted them for what they were...a manifestation of the Force's will. He was at peace with his priorities in life and that was the struggle. The dark side may have contained easier paths to great power...but death was always easy. To live in an existence designed for the continuous preservation of life was difficult, but in the end...the strength to do that which was hard would always be more powerful than the ability to do that which was easy.

As the clash of lightsabers erupted within a mere few meters of his location, Marcello continued to step forward towards the Sith Temple's entrance. There were undoubtedly and impossible number of Acolytes and Sith Lords within the edifice. Marcello was not so naive as to think that he could take down the entire facility alone, unsupported. This, however, was not a new consequence. As the Sith had once done to the Jedi Temple, the Naboo native would see the Sith Temple become a tomb. A fitting addition to the many others littering the Valley of the Dark Lord. Including a Sith with which Marcello was rather...familiar.

Closing his eyes briefly, Marcello drew in a steady breath, stretching his senses out into the deep recesses of the Force. It was a technique that he had spent learning at some length following the defeat of the Republic at Coruscant. He'd had plenty of time during rehabilitation and several lengthy hyperspace transits to each new battlefield established by the Sith. Now, nearly a decade later, it was almost second nature to the Jedi that was, traditionally, the epitome of a Guardian. Once he'd slipped into the White Current, Marcello carefully focused his awareness on that which happened in his relatively immediate vicinity. The Force reacted to everything even something as simple as a flex of movement or alteration of thought. More importantly, it made determining when someone or something was artificially influencing the Force's otherwise very natural ebb and flow.

Spoiler

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Lilin Imperieuse"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] | [member="Alen Na'Varro"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]

 

[Kira Vaal]

ON THE STAIRS
THE VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS

ALLIES: [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Meeristali Peradun"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Gabriel Sionoma"], [member="Ryan Korr"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Marcello Matteo"], [member="Alen Na'Varro"], [member="Lilin Imperieuse"], [member="Arrbi Betna"]

ENEMIES: [member="Darth Erebos"], [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Tes Dralyn"], [member="Sera Inkari"], [member="Jake Daniels"], [member="Lassiter"], [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

The world around her as she emerged from the tunnels was one of chaos. Great structures stretched down through the monument of evil each backdropped now by the fires and sights of the battle of liberation. For Kira it was an unusual sensation, she had been in many situations before of stress and conflict. In fact it felt like only yesterday that she was on the steps of the Sith Temple in the last attack on Coruscant, however this was different.
She felt something stir in her belly, fear maybe?

What was her next move to be? Head off towards the Sith forces at the far end of the valley and engage them from the rear? Perhaps sabotage the defences in the shadows and wait for the main bulk of the alliance forces to attack a helpless force? She went to take a step but was caught off-guard as something from behind her gripped at her mind.

It came from down the stairs, a feeling of something struggling against the fearful emotion of the Valley itself. It was like remembering something long forgotten but being instantly told to forget it again. In waves it proceeded to come at her again, pulling curiosity down back to where Mara and the rest were still in position.

Her eyes moved up, this time falling at the valley proper and came to rest on a group of black clad enemies. The sensation beneath the stairs attracting not only her attention it would seem. While to her it was something of hope breaking through, to them it was the opposite. Their normality was being broken apart from within. Their eyes full of desperation and anger as they advanced on the source and Kira was smack bang in the middle.

Kira.
The voice again. The woman, the one apparently linked to herself by ancestral right if she was to believe the tales of the small wizened creature back on Demonsgate.
You must trust in yourself and the Force. Your friends stand alone and exposed, their success here and your own fate have become intwined.
Kira’s hand moved to her lightsaber, the metal cold against her sweaty palms as it was raised before her.
Trust in yourself, embrace the Force and I will guide the way.
Her thumb hit the activation and was a hiss-crack the blue blade extended out from the weapon with a dull hum as it rested and bathed Kira and the tunnel behind her in light.

“You lot better hurry up.” Kira said mostly to herself knowing that there would be no physical way of the group actually hearing her. Her feet began to move in a nervous repositioning as the first disciple came her way, the fastest of the running group his own lightsaber glowing a blazing red as he rose it high over his head before bringing it down at Kira’s head.
She nearly closed her eyes as she raised the blue beam to intercept her only thoughts simply on surviving and making sure that Mara and company had all the time possible to do their job.

CRACK.

 

[Sera Inkari]

Location: The Valley of the Jedi Lords. Fallen among ruined pillars, weed covered ground in quiet garden.
Mission: One step too far into the future.

Allies: [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Tes Dralyn"] | [member="Darth Erebos"] | [member="Lassiter"] | [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Jake Daniels"]
Direct Enemies: None
Enemies: [member="Lilin Imperieuse"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] | [member="Alen Na'Varro"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"] | [member="Marcello Matteo"] | [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]


No Jedi had yet found her, fortune had favored the seer, but not her future seemingly. Isolating herself had worked to spurn their attempts to find her, even bright as her force signature had become. There was only single course when you went this far. One trick pony she might be, helpful pony, but not one she could ride the tails of forever. Perhaps if she lived long enough!

Imparting last of her gift to their dark lord [member="Darth Erebos"], Kintan’s seer began to lose focus, spirit feeling faint, her eyes went wide as she realised what was coming from below, the heresy they sort to reek upon the Sith holy ground here! From her Lord’s fate and those of many here, in her mind she followed them down to the depths underground the valley in her fading vision, breath and heart racing, blood pumping through her skull. She could hear heartbeat in her own ear.

[member="Mara D'lessio Merrill"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] - @All Sith

Sadly all she could impart was panic. While glitterstim helped, her mindspeak voice was fadng. Her message blurred, and her mind twitching from the spice use, how much Sith Lords understood was uncertain. Those here might feel the sensation anyway from what the alliance below were attempting. Our red robed acolyte stood to try to race for the tombs, to save what she could, but instantly fell over, her world going black. Shock of trying to reconnect to the world too much for her all at once. Down but not yet out, prone though as her stealth field had just faded, falling upon the garden’s stone monument smashing the unit and bruising her hip. If their certain sniper took aim, she was easy prey laid out as she was. [member="Laguz Vald"]


Saber Staff | Initiate Dreamer Robes
Belt: Pouch of Glitterstim | Pouch of Bacta | 3 Tears of the Rist Darts | Stealth Field Generator (Busted)

 

[Allyson Locke]

Allyson didn’t have much time to react, it seemed that Owen had plans for her and decided to not really mention what they were. In all honesty, Allyson expected Owen to wet his pants and that she was going to be left carrying the weight of them both through the underworld. The Dude’s callsign was Pie for Force’s sake, who ever expects glory from someone named Pie. The man revealed his true intentions and Allyson thought about blowing his brains out, but it seemed Owen “Pie” Holst had the same plan and quicker reflexes. Her gun was pulled from her leg and he opened fire. Of course this probably wasn’t going to be a good thing.

“Owen!” Allyson shouted at the man as he ducked behind some downed clothing rack. Following quickly behind him, she jumped and headed into the cover along with him. “Give that back, where’s yours?!” Allyson had lost her second one in the crash and was only able to recover one. If he didn’t have a weapon the best she could do was use the force, but what could she honestly do with just mechu-deru, it wasn’t like the men were robotic or anything.

Twitching her nose she tried to feel out in the force, what connection she had with it and searched for any cybernetics any of the men had. If they had something she could possibly make it malfunction or something along those lines. As she felt around, she remembered feeling something behind them as they shifted and moved. Was there something lurking in the shadows? Cursing under her breath, she wished she was born with a better affinity to all of the Force not just technomancy.

[member="Kelon Amadis"] [member="Owen Holst"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

Valley of the Lords
Delta Area: [member="Kiskla Grayson"] | [member="Darth Erebos"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Sera Inkari"]

Whatever fate had befallen the flying Mando, Laguz wasn’t paying enough attention to witness it. Seconds after taking the shot, the sniper’s focus was redirected by the helpful colors of Tessie’s HUD, flashing a warning red.

Not for danger, but for a potential target.

The shifter zoomed in on the spot, and the windowsill frowned slightly at the readout. Almost half a click away. If the figure was wearing any armor underneath those robes, chances were they’d only get bruised. Some cracked ribs maybe, if the gods of bullet trajectory were kind.

Only one way to find out.

With practiced movements, the mercenary set up the shot. With a prone mark like that, xe could afford to take xir time. Tripping on D-grade as xe was, this would still only take xem a fraction of what another professional would require for similar results. There was no telling when the target would get up, after all, and xe was loathe to waste an opportunity as perfect as this one.

Once xe got the bead firmly on the side of the female’s torso, Laguz released the remaining air from xir lungs. The world around xem faded away along with the breath, stains wiped by the pass of a cloth. Xe depressed the hair trigger, and somewhere along the way, Tessie expelled the deadly beskar bullet. The projectile ripped through the air at breakneck speeds, and unless the Lost themselves materialized to intercept it, [member="Sera Inkari"] was toast.

 

[Break]

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"] , [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]
Allies: OS
Enemies: calculating
Objective: protect home planet, stop the violence.

Break had taken to a posted watch of his surroundings. Considering how alone he was in an environment he rarely traveled, that would make sense to most. However he wasn't watching for his own safety but possibly for the safety of others and to make sure things didn't get too out of hand. He had spotted 2 acolytes being deftly handled by 2 assailants. Without hesitation Break shot forward like a blaster bolt from hell. But before he could reach them the second acolyte had fallen. He was too late to save them from harm.
But as far as his sensors could detect the 2 acolytes were still alive. The aggressors however hadn't left yet. And this gave Break an opportunity to stop them from harming anyone else.

His plasma cannon whirred to life as he began to charge it. His legs pumped and pushed him further into the assailants line of sight before he slid to a stop about 5 meters away from them. "STOP" He shouted before either one had had a chance to raise their weapons.
He gave them time to register what was happening before continuing. I am HRD model PRT-000 -Break-"
He raised his own weapon which by now was going yellow. "I am here to stop the attack on my home planet ."
He tried to muster up a more authoritative voice than his normal laid back tone. " Drop your weapons or I will remove them by force." His free hand moving to his cortosis blade. "Come willingly, and I will allow you to leave after the fighting is over."

He assessed the two with his scanners. Hopefully a nonviolent solution would be the outcome. Break was a tough droid but he was still only a droid. And that didn't even Warrant his own rights. If the two felt like killing him they probably wouldn't even feel remorse.

 

[Eralam]

It was difficult routing civilians away from the combat zones. Though the fighting appeared to be concentrated in a few key locations, it was impossible to predict with any certainty which way the battle would go. All he could do was analyze the fights to the best of his abilities and extrapolate possibilities.

To their credit, both the Alliance and the Sith seemed to be doing a decent job of minimizing collateral damage. He doubted it was out of any intrinsic altruism on their parts; both sides would need to keep the civilian populations docile if they won, and that would be hard enough without images of collapsed residential buildings plastered all over the news. Whatever the reason, it cut down on his workload tremendously. He still had to get thousands of people out of harm's way, but that was better than millions or billions.

Surprisingly, the only real resistance they were meeting was from natives. The undercity, where most of the safehouses were located, was populated by all kinds of thugs and criminals. Gangs that normally traded lives for territory were emboldened by the sudden chaos, and were trying to snap up as much real estate as they could in the confusion. Terrified civilians made for easy targets. Luckily, Goran and its teams were on hand to deal with those particular problems.

Eralam didn't like the little psychopath, and never would. No Shard living had a more colorful history. Rumor had it that it had even once run with some Mandalorians back in the day. But he couldn't argue with results, and Goran never failed to deliver, so long as delivery included dropping threats.

It had taken a lot of work to get the miserable bastard to agree not to attack soldiers. Thugs and gangsters, it argued, were no fun. They were poorly disciplined and rarely had any training. Most of them didn't even know how to aim their blaster rifles. But Eralam won out in the end, promising that if either side started attacking refugees, they were fair game. Unlike Rusty, Koko's boss, Goran didn't hate the Sith. It didn't hate the Jedi either. It just liked killing, and the more challenging the target, the better.

So far, it was true to its word and had left the soldiers alone. Coruscant's undercity contained one of the highest concentrations of criminal activity in the galaxy. They might have been easy targets, but there were a lot of them. Whatever side won, they'd have a lot fewer problems to worry about down below.

 

[Aver Brand]

Centax Memorial Wall
Generators
[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Darth Megnentis"]

Force why did I ever take this job Ralen told me nicely he really did that these people were bad and would get what’s coming to them he said that and Milyan said that too but I was greedy and mom always said don’t be greedy son it will come back to bite you in the ass well actually she didn’t say that exactly it was more like what was it
was it don’t be greedy or you will lose yourself well whatever it was mom was right she was always right dad was greedy and look what it got him but did I learn no I didn’t and now I’m here and oh Force oh God I never believed in you but Lord please if you exist come here and help me please please please God that hurts this woman is mad who makes these things there can’t be a God when people like this exist there can’t be
I don’t want to die please don’t let me die here this isn’t even my home I always thought I would die at home aged hundred surrounded by good friends and family never like this never here in this horrible place oh God what did I do to deserve this what did I do
I was greedy and I took this job with the Sith and oh God dear God we’re here and she’s she’s she’s

“Turn it off.”

turn it off no I can't you can't do this the whole building depends on this you can’t do this there are good people in Centax good men good women with families and children

“Now.”

good people Gueuze Bevog be one of them for once be one of them

“No.”

God that hurts how can you do this hit a man in cold blood kill a man in cold blood what are you please don’t kill me please don’t I never wanted this I never wanted to do bad things it was just good money I swear just good money and I’m sorry God I’m so sorry

“I won’t ask again.”

I’m so sorry mom so sorry dad so sorry Pholni so sorry Rupoor so sorry Centax but I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I’m sorry God I don’t want to die

“Good man. Now the big one.”

she knows how does she know who told her this isn’t happening no no no NO STOP GOD “Stop! I’ll come, I’ll come, please don’t hurt me, please!”

“Then move, or I’ll bury you here with the Colonel.”

the Colonel God the Colonel she snapped her neck snapped it like a twig how can you do that to another person how damaged do you have to be are you even sentient at that point or just an animal no not even animals do that Gueuze you learned that in high school ha ha ha haoh God what am I doing with my life how did it go so wrong how am I here underground in a war working for Sith dying for Sith who kill and it was the money it was always the money
the money and Rupoor who said no and I had to go I had to go and run and I needed the money and the Sith offered money good money for a job I love but it wasn’t even the job I love it was just the distance because it hurt and it hurts and
no no no not this generator not this generator “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything but this, please don’t ask me to do this. I’m begging you. There are people out there. Billions of people,” one trillion fifty-two billion three-hundred and forty-seven thousand and five “I can’t do this. You can’t do this.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

The skull is moving oh the skull is moving and NO GUEUZE if you do one thing right in your life do this and GOD
MY ARM SHE BROKE IT SHE BROKE MY ARM OH
OH GOD

“I asked, frakker, are you going to stop me?”

MY ARM “I won’t,” IT HURTS “I refuse,” stop the bleeding call for help you can’t call there’s no one here only death and the devil
“I refuse to help you plunge this planet into dark—”


It doesn’t hurt anymore.

Oh, a light! So it is true. How curious. I’ll have to write to Fheon…. oh. Oh dear.

Is that a bomb?