Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mission Blood Debt – Assault on Dromund Kaas



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Braze watched the market come apart in shrieking sheets of durasteel and permacrete, glass spilling through the air like frozen rain.

He spun his blade in a lazy flourish, cutting through the larger bits of debris that flew toward him, shearing them in twain. The Sith was already retreating, fleeing from the diminutive half-Echani as if afraid, somehow, that the waif that was Braze might rough him up too badly in a purely physical confrontation.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen someone talk a big game, only to run off and cower behind the posturing of lackluster taunts, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last.

The pretty little jewled Eye was snapped shut, and the hush broke.

The Force rushed back into him hard enough to make his teeth ache, and he could feel the sensation pulse from the very core of his bones. Time slowed to a crawl as he enacted several Force powers in tandem, beginning with Force Speed, propelling his motion into action at a terrifying pace.

He dropped low, abandoning his charge the instant the walls began to collapse inward. One hand rose, fingers splayed, to spoil the ruin's path, catching the immense weight of what was breaking apart.

A shove here, a twist there… just enough to turn that perfect, overwhelming crushing force of thousands of pounds of permacrete, durasteel, and glass that had been torn free from the buildings lining this section of the Market District into a collapsing mess, controlled and precise, sparing any civilians foolish enough to remain.

He held the weight suspended until they cleared the area, then let it fall aside.

Braze slipped through the chaos on instinct, his cloak tearing where jagged metal grazed too close, as he twirled his blade at the perfect angle to cut aside any further debris sent his way, splitting each section apart so it passed harmlessly to either side.

Thankfully, it would seem that Saram Kote Saram Kote and Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod had done their job. He was thankful he'd chosen such a competent team and was greatful for all they did to help in this task and stand against the vile atrocitie sof the sith.

Now all Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen and Silas Westgard Silas Westgard needed to do was ensure they got the freed slaves out and off-planet.

His attention shifted to the civilians trapped in the market's ruin, bodies scrambling beneath falling signs and shattered rails. The Sith didn't seem interested in a fight, only in throwing a tantrum with the surrounding architecture.

Braze rose, pale hair dusted gray from the debris clouds, and drew the Force around the nearest bystanders instead. A shimmering barrier rippled into place, braced between them and the next wave of falling debris.

Braze's comm opened to the team, silent to any opne not in their encrypted comms, and not heard outside his helm, voice low and clipped beneath the groaning sounds of bending metal and falling debris.

" Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen , move them now. Don't wait for me. Get the freed people on their feet, pair the weak with anyone who can walk, and push for the extraction route. No heroics, and no waiting on me; Go go go !"

A harsh breath cut through the channel as dust rolled across the market with the sound of another crash.

" Silas Westgard Silas Westgard , if you can hear me, I need cover on the evac lane. Smoke, shields, suppressing fire, anything that keeps eyes off the civilians. The Sith is tearing the district apart for attention; don't give him bodies to use as leverage."

His gaze lifted through the ruin, pale hair streaked gray with powdered stone.

"Everyone else, priority is extraction. Mark the wounded, clear debris where you can, and keep moving. If the path breaks, find another. Do not bunch up, do not stop to watch, and do not engage him unless necessary; extraction takes priority over the fight."

He took but a breath, "He wants attention. Don't give it to him. Get our people out."

Braze maintained the massive Force barrier, pouring his strength and energy reserves into the effect as he took on the burden of guarding their people and redirecting broken architecture.
 
“Leaving so soon?”

Typical.

Jedi cowards always did end up running when they realized they were overmatched, he thought.

Another victory for the mental chalkboard.

Mikhail from his vantage point saw the slaves being rushed out of pens.

Now that simply wouldn’t do.

Reaching out, he gripped a nearby tower that jutted from the ground into the sky like a finger. He wrapped the aphotic flow of his power around it and twisted his wrist. The tower began to lean sideways, first with a groan, then with a calamitous and deafening roar as it fell sideways and collapsed directly onto at least one of the slave pens.

Mikhail tilted his head, watching as it fell.

How many slaves did it flatten beneath the debris? Hundreds? Thousands? Certainly not all of them, some were probably escaping even now with the Jedi. But how many?

Who could really know. All he felt was the snuffing out of lives and the pain of those still living, trapped.

“There,” he chuckled, “I freed them.”

But it seemed the Jedi were already scampering away.

Reaching out across time and space, Mikhail grimaced as he projected his thoughts towards an old, old friend. One who probably wouldn’t hear it anyway. Epicanthix and all. Instead, Mikhail pushed his telepathic thoughts onto the nearest Sith he found.

“Hey you, yeah, you. Tell Darth Carnifex there are a bunch of Jedi trying to flee the market district with his slaves….

Oh. And tell him the Thronebreaker says hello.”


Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
 
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Tags: Saram Kote Saram Kote Silas Westgard Silas Westgard Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod
(No longer engaging the enemy)
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The tower came down, but Braze had already set himself in the path of the collapse, the Force braced through him like a pillar of burning, molten glass.

The weight of which wrenched against him viciously. His body began to shake as if the crushing weight of it all was just too much... He drew a heavy shaky breath feeling his knees starting to buckle.

Then Braze reached deeper, remembering what Ko Vuto Ko Vuto had taught him about perception. Strength in the Force did not answer to fear of size, or weight, or ruination of lives.... It answered clarity. He reached for that stillness of mind pressed back, making the impossible look small.

By inches, he dragged the tower’s fall aside, turning the worst of the fall before it could take the pens whole, enough to spare the people below and the pens from becoming a grave. The lane of streets vanished beneath a choking gray haze as a wave as metal scraped against stone, rolling over the fleeing crowds in a storm of grit and broken sound.
 
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Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
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All the team would hear Omen's grumbling over the radio as they breached into the slave holding area. As much as the Clone wanted to say the expletives he was thinking at the moment, he decided to respect radio silence, though the team did hear a muttered, "Hope you savored what happened that night because it's not happening again...", leaving the story of that evening very much open to interpretation. Omen hoped it would be enough for her squadmates to feast on as Saram reaped what she sowed. He at least knew what his type was now. Women who scared themselves out of love, no matter what their partner did.

The Clone heard the start of the clash between the team and an Unknown Sith. Braze's orders came through clearly, though Omen didn't like the "no waiting for me" part. If Braze really needed help, then Omen would disobey the young man in a heartbeat, but for now, he was content to wrap up his act. "Thank you for your attention, Ladies and Gentlemen. For my last act, I ask for patience as I get a new instrument out of my bag." Reaching into the duffel bag, he quickly flicked the fire selection switch to full auto and opened fire, not even bothering to take it out of the bag. The Plaza was ringed with armor-piercing ammo impacting and drilling through the various Sith forces' armor. Most didn't even guess what was happening till they couldn't think at all. "This is your chance! Move!" was enough to spur the Slaves into moving; however they could. They knew what the stakes were: stay a slave or run for their freedom.

It didn't take long for more Guards to push into the square, only to be met by Omen as he hid behind one of the pillars, reloading and opening fire again. What they didn't expect was for the trash can to attack them, the plant matter turning into a hand that scampered up to the Sith Lackey's, swinging its trash can around and crashing it into the Sith like a battering ram, causing chaos. "I can hold them for now, Braze, until they start throwing some actual threats at me. Just stay safe." Because out of all of them right now, the snow-haired young man needed it the most right now.

Tags: Silas Westgard Silas Westgard Saram Kote Saram Kote Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod Braze Braze Mikhail Shorn Mikhail Shorn
 

Saram Kote

Strill Securities Al'verde

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Friendly Units:
Squad Mission Equipment




Hostile Tag(s): TSO and Allies

Friendly Tag(s): Braze Braze | Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod | Silas Westgard Silas Westgard | Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen

Saram's Equipment




"I know what I'm missing, vod, but I'm far too late if I hoped that day would go anywhere," she replied over comms, the years of pent up regret seeping through her words. "I hope things worked out, for what its worth," she added quickly as she turned her attention to Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod . She blink-clicked through her HUD interface, quickly flash programming one of her dedicated detonators and tossing it underhanded at the Jetii, "Here, blow the buildings when you feel like it, don't say I never gave you anything." Of course, she could still detonate it manually and the temper sensor would still set it off worse came to worst.

"It seems the boys are in a bind. They'll require backup if they can't handle the issue on their own. We certainly don't want an entire army dispatched to this spot,"

"Already? It's not like we left them on Zeltros with a no-limit credit chit," she half-joked as she signaled Davaab to move out. "What the shab's our extraction plan?" she asked, hoping that the Jetii had more details than she did at the moment. She left her armor's advanced non-Stygium-based cloaking systems on, hoping that they would attract less attention as they moved. That was when Saram's finely tuned audio sensors could pick up the sounds of crashing something in the distance. Well, that was as sure a sign of trouble as any. The squads little recon droids didn't have the benefit of being able to carry Ysalamir, harness or not, she would have to ask the alor for a voidstone lined spec ops version. You fought and you learned, as the old Mando'a saying went in basic.

It really wasn't much ground to cover, they would rendezvous back with the others before long. Best to give them a heads up first, she surmised. That was precisely when her comms came to life. Haar'chak!! What in shab had happened? What in shab was happening? She paused for a moment, pointlessly turning toward Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod before she asked over short-range short burst encrypted comms, "Extraction? We can't leave anyone behind on this hellhole pretending to be a planet." She quickly opened a private channel to Braze Braze , "Ad'ika, I can't shabla leave you here, give me your last known, let me at least try and make sure you're on the extraction transport."

There fired up her armor's force-detector, but even the company's advanced custom-engineered model was having some difficulty with all the residual dark side osik in this place. It would probably need a few more before she could try and look for Braze's specific force signature. There was the comms triangulation option, but she'd hold that one in reserve if the life-form scanner failed. The life-form scanner was less useless, though there was a fair few it would have to sort through. Might as well start shabla looking now. She'd have to talk to him about an encrypted IFF transponder on the armor. She had to prioritize, though, find the ad'ika first, yell at him about his gear afterward.
 
ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴊᴇᴅɪ
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Objective II - Free the Enslaved

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Odom stood completely frozen for the first time since the collapse of the Galactic Alliance. Behind the featureless, visor of her Warding Mask, her jaw went slack as the chaotic overlapping comms flooded her audio receivers. The plan was unraveling around her, with Braze Braze voice straining from the effort of keeping the collapsing architecture from flattening them all.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen frantic, muffled blaster fire echoed across the plaza alongside the absurd, terrifying reality of a weaponized trash-can plant, and Saram Kote Saram Kote was practically demanding coordinates to stage a suicidal rescue of the young Jedi. Odom's mind raced, frantically flipping through every standard Jedi tactical playbook she had memorized since childhood.

In an ambush, you establish a defensive perimeter; in an extraction, you funnel civilians through a secured choke-point. But every textbook maneuver required a baseline of stability they simply didn't possess. The crushing, ambient weight of Dromund Kaas's Dark Side aura was already clawing at her mental shields, making any widespread use of the Force far too taxing on her limited energy reserves.

A cold spike of sheer panic threatened to lock her joints. I don't know what to do, she realized, the truth hitting her like a physical blow to the chest. There is no protocol for this. Then, she caught the sharp twitching of her Mikkian sensory tendrils against the interior padding of her mask.

They were vibrating against the damp stone floor, registering the heavy, hollow resonance of massive fluid movement echoing from deep beneath the market's foundations. She forced a breath into her lungs, the mechanical hiss of the respirator grounding her. The team was counting on her to act, even when she was entirely unsure of herself.

"Mandalorian, cut the chatter and belay that rescue," Odom ordered, her voice cutting through the encrypted comm channel, steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. She didn't let her internal doubt bleed into her tone.

"We aren't leaving anyone behind, but we aren't throwing ourselves into a meat grinder either. The primary extraction route is compromised. If the Sith is tearing the district apart for attention, he's watching the surface lines." She grabbed the flash-programmed detonator Saram had thrown her and clipped it securely to her harness next to her Haven Shield Pucks.

"We are redirecting the civilians," Odom commanded, her fingers tightening around her double-bladed hilt as she gestured toward a rusted, heavily reinforced iron grate set into the floor of the alley's low culvert. "There. The sewer main lines. The sulfur runoff and waste lines are heavily shielded against scanners to keep the stench from the upper plazas. No one, not the Sith, not their flying lackeys is going to be dumb enough to patrol the waste lines. It's tight, it's filthy, but it's a blind spot."

She glanced back at the node room where the dead technicians lay, then looked directly at Saram's cloaked, armored form. "Get Davaab squad onto those grates. We blast our way down, set the Haven shields at the threshold to bottleneck any pursuit, and funnel every slave Braze and Omen can push toward us. If we can't give them a clean exit, we give them a dark one. Move!"
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
OBJ 1

Omen sighed as he heard Saram's words. She was right, of course, and that was probably the best apology he was going to get from her. And so he put his simmering anger aside and focused on the task at hand. Hearing Odom's voice over the radio, Omen yelled out to the Slaves as he tried to cover them. "To the Sewers! Go!" It was time to get out of Dodge himself.

As soon as the last Slaves got distance from the scene and Omen was running out of ammo, he quickly threw a concussion grenade to cover his retreat. And so he and his little trash can with new blaster holes backpedaled back to the Sewer entrance, trying his best to help any stragglers on the way. Hopefully, they would have the time to get away and space in the transports to get all these people out.

Tag: Saram Kote Saram Kote Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod Braze Braze Silas Westgard Silas Westgard Mikhail Shorn Mikhail Shorn
 

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The Dark Lord watched as Jasper maneuvered through the storm of blades, molten eyes tracking the Jedi's every movement with unwavering attention. As the Jedi rose up into the air and began to fall back down, the multiple blades coalescing around the Dark Lord began to take new shape. They amalgamated together, forming into a singular whole and spread out between the Dark Lord and the Jedi. Light crashed into the barrier, but it held against it. The Dark Lord's power suffused through the malleable metal, imbuing it with His own resistance to the powers and energies of the Light Side of the Force.

When Jasper came close enough to the artificial barrier, it parted in half to reveal the Dark Lord. He leapt upwards towards Jasper, His own lightsaber slipping into His hand with a snarling snap-hiss of red plasma. Carnifex met the Jedi Master in the air, slashing and stabbing with His lightsaber; trading blow for blow in rapid succession.

Despite only wielding His weapon in one hand, He moved with such surprising quickness that His blade appeared to be everywhere all at once whether attacking or defending. Where Jasper's blades struck, the Dark Lord's was their to meet them. Little energy was expended in flourishing movements, every action was stripped to its bare necessity. Likewise, when the Dark Lord attacked, each strike was lightning-quick and viciously precise. The Scourge of a Hundred Worlds fought as thought He were multiple men, His speed and dexterity virtually unmatched.

All the while, the Dark Side grew stronger. With every second spent, every breath drawn, the Dark Side permeated more and more. The entirety of Dromund Kaas was an epicenter of darkness. Darth Carnifex was one of its masters, and through Him the power of Dromund Kaas was channeled. The Jedi had come to the Sith's own field, and the oppression of the Dark would only further press down upon them.


 

Jasper didn't waver.

Blows met blows to match as Carnifex levied rapid strikes against him, his eyes absorbing the information of every move. The speed and strength of the Sith Lord did not deter the Jedi Master. Long had he trained in the ways of the Matukai now to bolster his martial prowess. Soft to Solid gave his body a natural armor that helped him take blows in a more reinforced way. In the back of his mind he pondered the way the barrier Carnifex had created had dispersed his light. It seemed that, while it would ward off the darkness that may harm him, it would have little harming effect in return.

And ward off the darkness it did. Even as the weight of Dromund Kaas pressed down on the Jedi, the fire in his heart kept him focused. He was a champion of the Force, and in it he found calm amidst the greatest of storms. Blow after blow, his eyes remained locked with those of the Butcher King. Steady breathing, calculated steps, thoughtful motions. They were all necessary for facing a larger foe than himself. No movement was wasted, executed by a man who had now since spent the formative years of his life and longer fighting in war after war. That time had added up, and it had forged a spirit that was not eager to be crushed under the weight of another. Even the weight of a planet.

With a flick of his wrist, Jasper sent drops of blood from his hand to the floor. The droplets spread out in a circle around the Sith Lord and formed a new series of runes:

Ice.

A chill took the air as ice raced out from the point of origin in a blanket across the ground, moving in all directions around Carnifex towards his feet in an attempt to engulf them. As the ice moved swiftly, Jasper continued to swing his blades in a flurry of light.

Determined to press onward.


 

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Location: Dromund Kaas
Objective: Free the slaves
Tag: Braze Braze / Mikhail Shorn Mikhail Shorn

As Braze and Silas moved to strike the Sith together, their target slipped away and retaliated from a distance. Silas raised his saber, preparing to counterattack, when the buildings around him suddenly began to rumble. His head snapped from side to side as the walls cracked apart, crumbling inward around them.

Silas lifted a hand instinctively, but before the debris could crush them, the collapsing rubble froze midair. Thankfully, Braze had stopped it, buying them enough time to escape before the wreckage finally crashed to the ground.

"What a waste…" Silas muttered, staring at the shattered debris littering the floor before glancing toward Braze, who was already directing people to safety.

The mission came first, after all. The Sith was only a barrier standing between them and their objective.

Nodding, Silas reignited his lightsaber. "Got it. I'll keep them focused," he said with a faint grin before darting away from the group.

It was time to give them a taste of their own medicine...


 
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Braze was more focused on ensuring they weren't crushed by falling debris. Exhaustion was quickly starting to catch up to him. He was thankful for Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod taking charge over the comms, allowing Braze and Silas Westgard Silas Westgard to focus on the rear guard.

The half Echani caught the faint grin as Odom darted off. Knowing he was friends with Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el meant he might have some sort of wild scheme that Braze didn't get the chance to question him on.

He continued to guard their escape as he patched in relayed updates to their pickup crew. Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod was right; if they wanted to get out, they were going to have to scuttle away through the depths of the sewage system.

Fine by him.

He looked to Silas as he let a heavy breath escape him.

"Indeed," he said, agreeing with him, imagining what great things could be done by someone like that if they weren't a failed Sith apprentice.

"You might miss the party bus if you run after him. Small fish isn't worth the effort," he murmured.

"Ladies, keep the line moving. We're right behind you." He called to Saram Kote Saram Kote and Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod happy to letthe, take the lead together below.

Braze moved to follow after them once the last of their denizens had been ushered below street level, affording them some cover. He moved to Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen 's side using his blade to deflect and re direct blaster fire that came their way back toward's their original senders. He touched his arm lightly indicating it was time to bring up the rear guard and follow after.

Braze gave Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen 's arm a light tap as blasterfire hissed past them. "That means you too, Sergeant. I'm not explaining to Saram that I let the loudest man on the line get left behind; Let's go."

As he went, he turned his focus outward, toward the surrounding earth and stone, ready to assert his will over the very crust of the planet if he needed to protect their route against any further intrusion.

He slid down a ladder and paused panting feeling the exhaustion wearing on his small frame.

 

Saram Kote

Strill Securities Al'verde

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Friendly Units:
Squad Mission Equipment




Hostile Tag(s): TSO and Allies

Friendly Tag(s): Braze Braze | Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod | Silas Westgard Silas Westgard | Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen

Saram's Equipment




Saram listened carefully to the Jetii, anger and embarrassment at having been corrected on comms disciple by a Jetii, before she took a breath and reigned in her errant feelings. She felt a pang of frustration that passed in a moment. "To haran with you Jetii, To haran with you for being right," she quietly cursed under her breath before blink-clicking her squad comms open again. "You heard the Jetii, cut open these shabla grates," she ordered before turning to the Jetii and adding over team comms, "Our armor's sealed, you sure this'll work?"

The moment the grate popped open and was moved with gauntlet-vambrace unit-mounted tractor/beam projectors to move it out of the way, Saram turned back to Odom Orzmod Odom Orzmod and added, "No Lightsaber wihile we're down there, some of those gasses are flammable, let us handle the heavy lifting, you're a hero enough, Jetii, I'll buy you a drink when this is all over." She then switched back to ssquad coms and added, "Verps only, we are not going to be the reason this all goes to haran."

She got three acknowledgement signals back from the others as they decided now was as good a time as any to unload the heavier ordnance they weren't being paid to bring back. Trat'aab Oya'karur-P-class Brilliant Plasma Micro-missiles were launched at the incoming Sith troops as the squad switched from cloaking devices back to shields, flickering back into view once more. "Well, there's that taken care of," deadpanned Anila over squad comms a moment later.

That was hen they all heard Braze Braze prompting her to quickly issue a series of orders, "Ran, bring up the rear with your fireteam. I'll take lead with the Jetii." Acknowledgement signals flashed in her HUD as Ran's fireteam took up rearguard positions around the entrance to the sewer, waiting for them to enter She glanced at the number of sensor signatures swarming on the map, both friendly and hostile and took a breath. This was the final phase, all that remained was one final effort.

She took another breath filtered air as though her armor didn't have its own recirculated air. "Come on, Jetii" she urged over team comms, nodding at the entrance before heading down herself and following their impromptu convoy as it began to make its escape. Ran's fireteam joined them a moment later, combined sensor picture once more available to her as their battlenet modules synced back up, no longer blocked by the piping. There were few other times in her life she was more grateful for fully sealed armor than she was not, surrounded by filth.

 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
OBJ 1

Blaster bolts slammed into Omen's cover as he slammed in another mag. He barely noticed Braze at his side as he plinked away at the incoming press of Sith Guards, trying to kill them all rather than let any of them leave to tell the tale of these slave markets. But like Braze said, now it was time to go. "Copy that. Don't worry, I'm not wasting away in another prison..." And with that, as his little trash can scurried back to him and he slung it over his shoulder, they both backpedaled together to their exit as the fireworks show from Saram's squad covered their exit.

They all dived into the sewers together, with Omen staying in the back with Ran and Braze as they moved along, shepherding the young and old to their better life. Saying over the private comm, "I hope you all have a map of these pipes..." Because if they didn't and the Sith troopers came down here and cut them off, none of them would see the light of day again.

Through this odd group of people, Omen did his best to contribute, making up children's toys before they were washed away in the sewer's currents. The Clone didn't even mind the smell. His smelling the stench meant he was still alive, which was always a blessing. It would be another blessing to get out of these corridors once again.
 
ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴊᴇᴅɪ
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Objective II - Free the Enslaved

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Behind her visor, Odom felt relieved that the Mandalorians could actually follow instructions without suggesting another seismic charge to blast their way out of their current predicament. Dealing with the evacuation of the slaves was exhausting enough without having them try to turn the local infrastructure into a miniature supernova while they were still inside the blast radius.

"I'll hold you to that drink, Mandalorian," Odom murmured over the team comms, a rare, dry amusement coloring her filtered voice. "Assuming we survive the night." She stood watch at the edge of the culvert while the gate was forcefully opened, her gaze sweeping over the dark sewer line beneath. The first of the slaves were already being ushered into the depths, their hurried, shuffling movements skillfully directed by the help of her team members.

Braze Braze and Silas Westgard Silas Westgard were in the rear, making sure no one fell behind in the market square. The sewage system was not the ideal location for a mass extraction because of its cramped passages and chemical fumes, but they had to manage as it was the only area in the city with minimal patrols.

Nevertheless, she wasn't exactly thrilled about it as her fingers located the detonator Saram Kote Saram Kote had given her earlier, and she pressed it with her thumb, sending a signal back to the node room, which resulted in an explosion echoing throughout the square. With the slave collars deactivated it would be much harder for the Kainate to track them down here.

Her boots clung to the edge of the sewer walkway as the unpleasant odors of chemical runoff and stagnant waste permeated the air. The Mandalorian stated that lightsabers wouldn't be useful in this environment, so they would need to depend on their physical skills if they encountered an enemy, though that seemed unlikely in this place.

Through the static of the team comms, Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen voice came through asking if anyone had a map of the pipe system. She wiped a splash of condensation from the visor, her sensory tendrils twitching against the padding as they picked up on the hollow echoing sounds of the tunnel system in order to figure out where the runoff was going to.

"If we had any maps of New Kaas City, do you really believe I would have suggested we traverse the sewer line?" Odom said over the channel, irritated at the need to respond to such a question. Surely, if they had a city map, they would have used it to devise an alternative evacuation strategy instead of wading through centuries of Carnifex's bath water.
 
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Domund Kaas - Zal'vaskad

Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el | Matthew of Valendale | Medrit Kote | Sian Sestoi

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Ko hadn’t wasted a second when given the go ahead from Jasper. Rushing off to the city. From afar it looked less like a metropolis and more like a colossal termite mound. Beyond the bleak brutalist sith architecture Ko may have thought that it wouldn’t have seen too out of place on a dingy encumenopolis.

The Kel Dor was concerned however that he wouldn’t get very deep into the city proper. Such a layered defense would be a serious challenge for him to get past, and increasing his running speed through The Force could only achieve so much. Stopping briefly Ko would attempt to catch his breath. Noting how he somewhat envied the mandalorians and their jet packs.

However it wasn’t hard to find one of the megafarms given that crops needed plenty of space to grow even when increasing the density through hydroponics. Given the overbearing surveillance state that was Zal’vaskad Ko was sure he was being watched or at least recorded while he took a moment to gander around only a small part of the megafarm. So long as he looked past the Sith’s alchemized taint that permeated throughout the whole place he could find inspiration in his own possible agricultural endeavors. Ko didn’t expect to find inspiration in such a dreadful place.

Needless to say it was all rather overwhelming. Ko wasn’t sure where to start in order to induce any meaningful damage and sabotage. He only had his standard gear as a Jedi and himself. Not gallons of toxins to flood the system with. At least he didn’t think so yet…

Ko closed his eyes and focused through The Force, perceiving the world beyond what his eyes could manage. Creating a more whole and complete image of the scale of the megafarm that dwarfed him. Then it came to him, how he might manage to actually aid in the mission here. He sensed it, through the pipes that flowed with hyper-nutritional water to feed the many crops here. Ko smirked under his mask. This place was very productive, too productive for its own good. He just needed to find the central water system for the megafarm he found himself at. He’d need to follow the pipes back to where they were being pumped from.

In a mad dash Ko rushed through the sprawling complex. With a clear goal in mind he moved with rapid fluidity. Passing around soldiers and guards that tried their best to catch or shoot the Kel Dor intruder. Narrowly avoiding the occasional blaster bolt with a doge or block from his green saber. Ko knew how this was going to end so he was content to just move through the motions. He never even harmed the soldier he passed. Nothing beyond a bruised ego for testing their marksmanship at least.

Eventually Ko found what he was looking for after he went beyond the greenery of the crop production and to the grand heavy machinery of the central water system that kept it all watered and fed. He came to a stop. Catching his breath with sharp inhales and exhales through his antiox mask. Increasing speed through The Force was always a grueling ordeal but he made it nonetheless. Straightening his posture he reached his hand out and sensed life within it. Organisms that were nigh-omnipresent much akin to midichlorians. Algae, microscopic and flowing around within the water. One of the most rudimentary lifeforms in existence swirling around in the nutrient rich soup that fueled the harvests of the mega farm.

Ko focused his energy into Plant Surge on the humble single celled organisms. Even while feeling drained from his bursts of speed the water and nutrients provided most of what he needed to make his plan work as he induced violent bursts of vegetation within the circulatory system of the hydroponic megafarm. Generating an algae bloom that would rapidly deplete the nutrients in the water and flow through the pipes in hopes of reaching every corner of the megafarm.

His efforts were setting off alarms within the system as the water inside began to quickly thicken. Turning into green sludge that would to clog up the system. Ko could feel satisfied in his sabotage efforts here. He finally ceased and pulled his hand back, watching as one of the large pipes began to buckle under the pressure. A few seconds later the bursting apart and spilling out its thick deep green contents. This should be good enough to halt their crop yields here, at least for a bit. Repairing their central water system and needing to deal with the sudden influx of blooming algae that could outcompete the edible crops while turning the water they relied on toxic and deoxygenated.
 

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Location: Dromund Kaas
Objective: Free the slaves
Tag: Braze Braze

"Going after him doesn't make sense right now, we still have slaves to free. His reckoning will come another day..."

He called back to Braze while deflecting blaster fire away from their position. Taking slow, steady breaths to keep himself centered, he followed the young Jedi, collecting Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen along the way. They needed to get out of here fast before the enemy numbers became overwhelming. Otherwise, nobody was getting this party bus home.

Sliding down the ladder after Braze, he welcomed the brief moment of respite. The young Jedi looked exhausted, struggling to recover his strength.

"Come on, Braze. Deep breaths," he said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "We can rest when we're all off this cursed planet."

Determination hardened his voice as he looked around at the rest of the group gathered in the sewer.


"If anyone knows the way, then lead on. I doubt any of us want to spend a second longer down here than we have to, though it's still better than being up there."

 


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Braze braced one hand against the sewer wall and let Silas' words settle through the ringing in his skull.

Deep breaths…?

That sounded easier when the air didn't taste of metal, rot, chemical runoff, and terror. It sounded easier when his bones weren't weary and hollowed out with strain from holding up half a market district by sheer will and refusal alone. His fingers curled into a tight fist against the slick stone, and for a few lingering moments, the small Jedi let his head dip.

Silas Westgard Silas Westgard 's encouragement came to him like a second wind. The gentle words caught him somewhere beneath the pain and exhaustion and dragged him back from the edge of delirium, where his senses had begun to blur and fray. The light encouraging pat steadied him, sharpening his senses, and pulled his awareness back into place from the precipice of comfort and rest offered by the darkened void.

The Force did not come to him cleanly down here. It was as if the Living Force were a somber distant psalm being drowned out by the darkness.

Dromund Kaas pressed through every pipe, wet brick, and black-laden seam between duracrete slabs, bearing down on him as if the planet itself remembered every harrowing chain ever dragged across its skin.

Braze swallowed hard, then opened his eyes.

"There is no map," he murmured, voice rough beneath the mask and carried through the comms. "That's fine… on me."

It was indeed not fine. This whole situation was karked up because some upstart wanted eternal daddy's attention for being a good boy and 'snitching' on them. They were blind, cramped, filthy, and one wrong turn could dump them into a lower sewer channel or seal them inside a filtration chamber with Sith patrols closing in from above.

But Braze knew that panic was a luxury for people who had already failed their mission, and Braze still drew breath. There was more expected of a Jedi Shadow then that.

He lifted his head and listened past the shuffling feet, past frightened breathing, past the distant groan of the city tearing itself apart overhead. His senses caught motion before meaning wove its way through what his mind's eye was sensing up ahead: boots over metal walkways, bare feet dragging through runoff, and the uneven rhythm of children being carried....

But there was more... beneath it all, another pattern moved through the Living Force as he pushed his presence outward, stretching his awareness as far as it would go searching.... for something...

There it was…

Water. Fresh clean water...

It wasn't the same as the sluggish black channel at their boots, but something cold far beneath it. Clean and moving with natural purpose. A steady pull through the buried arteries of New Kaas City.

Braze reached farther, jaw tightening as the strain crawled behind his eyes with a dull ache. The current tugged eastward, down a narrowing service run where the air tasted less dead and the sulfur thinned by degrees.

"There," he said, pointing two fingers toward a low maintenance passage half-hidden behind a curtain of runoff. "That line goes outward."

His comm clicked open to the secured rescue channel. When he spoke again, his voice was rough and steadier than before, laced with confidence.

"Extraction team, adjust pickup. We are abandoning the surface lane. Watch for a drainage outfall beneath the east industrial shelf, below the old market power conduits. Track friendly IFF and short-range pings only."

The tunnel shuddered overhead as dust sifted from the seams, settling into Braze's white hair and across the torn shoulders of his cloak. Somewhere behind and above them, metal groaned under the weight of the city's collapsing buildings.

He cut the channel and turned, putting himself near the rear again though his legs protested the choice. His lightsaber stayed unlit at his side and holstered on his belt. Saram was right about the gases; one careless spark could turn the sewer into a fiery grave.

Braze pressed his palm to the wall as they moved and sent a careful pulse through the stone.

Just enough to make old pipes shift, grates sag in bent, crooked ways, and loose debris slump into awkward angles behind them. A trail made ugly for anyone following too quickly in an effort to delay any persistent pursuers. A narrowing throat between the fleeing civilians and whatever hunted them from the dark.

Then he moved forwards, every step betraying the tremor running through his exhausted body. He looked as though a strong gust might finally knock him down, yet somehow he remained upright, stubbornly forcing himself onward.

Flashes of precognition struck in broken pieces as he darted ahead guiding the group beyond the dangers that threatened to trap them there: a left turn that smelled of rust, a ladder too weak to trust, a pocket of gas near the ceiling, a child stumbling before a hand caught them. Braze adjusted without explaining, cutting a sharper path through the service tunnels, forcing his body to keep pace with what his senses showed him.

Ahead, a thin line of light waited at the end of the passage.

As they drew closer, the stale darkness of the sewer began to give way. The foul stench that had clung to every breath weakened, replaced by the scent of rain-soaked stone and fresh water. The distant roar grew louder with every step until it filled the tunnel ahead like a living thing.

The passage finally opened into a massive drainage outlet carved into the rocky shelf beneath the city. Beyond it, a curtain of fresh water cascaded from the cliffs above, fed by the endless storms of Dromund Kaas. White mist drifted through the air, catching the pale light filtering down from the overcast sky.

The refugees emerged from the sewer one by one, blinking against the brightness. Then the waterfall's spray washed over them.

Cool droplets swept across grime-caked faces, rinsing away streaks of sewage, dust, and blood. Children laughed weakly as the fresh water splashed against them. Adults closed their eyes for a moment, simply breathing. After hours spent choking on decay and fear, the clean mist felt almost... unreal.

Braze stepped through last....

The spray struck his face and soaked his white hair, washing dark filth from his skin and cloak. For a brief moment, he simply stood there beneath the drifting mist, letting the fresh water cool the feverish ache in his body. The sensation was refreshing beyond words... despite everything they had endured beneath the city, they had made it out.

Waiting beyond the outfall were the transports as needed.

Their engines hummed steadily as crews moved into position. Friendly signals flashed across Braze's HUD. Personnel and security teams were already preparing to receive the civilians. And beyond them stood the covert flight of Draconis forces, ready and waiting to guard the transports.

Their presence formed a reassuring line between the exhausted refugees and the dangers they had escaped. Crew members waved the survivors onward toward safety.
 

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