Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Public Breathe [Open, Character Intro]



Setting Music



CORUSCANT


The city bustle faded in from the relative quiet of the walkway Kusana Kusana exited from. The insulation from the sounds of so much life had afforded her the opportunity to think on a few things, which was abruptly cut off when she realized the datapad she had had on her person earlier in the walk was nowhere to be found. Now out of the walkway, she leaned back against the wall of a nearby building and breathed an exasperated sigh, filling the air with a tangible woe. "What's one more lost opportunity, I suppose...". She closed her eyes and laid her head against the wall behind her as well, thinking for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, whatever regret and shame she may have felt toward the missing datapad was washed away by the calm orange of the setting sun. Something about the thought of a likeness as powerful and blindingly radiant as a star being tamed by the slow spin of a tiny planet into something you could look at with the naked eye...it was calming to her. Another sigh, though this was not one of exasperation. This sigh carried with it all of her swirling emotions as it left her, and the hanging tension in the air dissipated.

A few passersby stopped to marvel at the sight as well, however the majority of those on these streets had seen it a thousand times already. "Doesn't make it any less pretty," she said to herself. Content to sit here a while and watch the planet turn its face from the giver of life, she placed herself on the front-facing step of a nearby building and watched. For a moment she remembered the words of the one who had shown her the Force, so long ago.

"Breathe."

Kusana took a deep breath, as if reliving or perhaps taking the advice of the memory.

"All life does it, you know. Breathes, in some way or another. Deep breaths are a big part of what distinguishes a calm mind from a scattered one. Though that's only one half of the equation, the other is..." The voice trailed off as she began to meditate, the sun warming her face.
 

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W A N D E R

Wearing
Kyyrk wasn't sure what he was doing here. This was the first time he could remember being on Coruscant in....well, he'd rather not think about it. Though it certainly looked much better than it had the last time he'd been here. He walked through the streets calmly, looking down at his datapad, making mental notes of his next stop. He didn't particularly trust this New Jedi Order, but the Jedi had always kept contacts that could find things. This particular contact was supposed to be a rather good one.

Kyyrk looked up, stowing his datapad in his belt again. He glanced around, his brow furrowing as he squinted against the light. The street he needed... He paused for a moment while he looked, then moved into action once more as he found his target. The man wore a small rebreather that covered his jawline, and came up over his nose. Not an uncommon sight in the lower levels of Coruscant. Perhaps a bit rarer in the upper levels. But all beings were welcome to be as picky as they'd like about the quality of their air supply, no? Particularly in heavily urban environments like this.

In truth, it was a disguise. Kyyrk still didn't know how he felt about his newfound defining physical trait. Particularly not in a galaxy so on edge, ready to call an inquisition against the smallest hint of a Sith. Particularly not at the heart of the New Jedi Order. For all their preaching of peace, this particular shade of Jedi had been on the front lines of the war against the Sith an awful lot. He was also sure they wouldn't need a reason to lock him up. Or worse.

Kyyrk kept walking down the street, referencing his datapad one more time to ensure he had the right spot. On the one hand, he did. On the other hand, the building seemed empty. No signs, door closed, nothing. Kyyrk scanned the front of the building for a moment, before his eyes finally landed upon a small sign that said "Lease" with a comm frequency next to it. Damn. His shoulders slumped slightly. He had been sure this lead would be worth something. His gaze fell to the young woman sitting on the steps of the building. "I'm guessing Haxim isn't in, is he?" He asked, half in jest. For all he knew, the business could be the secretive type. She could be a lookout. Gatekeeper. Something like that. Never hurt to ask, right?
 

Kusana looked up.

The figure standing above her was imposing to the say the least, leaving her quite on edge but ultimately accepting of the friendly tone he had taken when speaking. Standing up to greet the stranger--though also partially to feel safer--she attempted some obscure form of hand gesture that was perhaps intended to signify a lack of knowing, but manifested itself as an awkward movement of the arms that could hardly be deciphered.

She eyed the man carefully to get a read of whatever weapons he might be carrying. Caution, as she had learned over the past two years, was a strong ally. The number "seven" briefly entered her mind as she counted the amount of times she had been attacked in what she assumed was a safe place. It quickly left her mind and was replaced by the number "one", the lightsaber on his back.

Was she dealing with a force wielder? If so, Jedi or Sith? Or was he independent of these factions, like her? The aesthetic to the person before her didn't fit into any conventional look that she had learned to associate with either side. She reached out with the Force in a swift motion and wiggled the lightsaber hilt on her hip just enough to feel it against her thigh, to know that it was still there--unlike that datapad that was lifted from her belt. It was relatively hidden, being located underneath her grey robes.

She didn't much care for what he was wearing, specifically whether or not he had any armor. After all, offense was planned for last in almost every situation she found herself in. Though uneasy, she managed to focus her thoughts on the small comfort that he was not currently pointing a blaster, or that lightsaber, at her face and spoke to another living being for the first time in what felt like weeks...perhaps it had been that long?

"I don't know a Haxim," she began, before realizing a few different possible contexts for this question. She settled on the one she had decided was the most likely and continued. "Are you here for this building?" She gestured behind herself with a motion that seemed much more natural than the first.
 
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W A N D E R

Wearing
The girl didn't know anything. Kyyrk had interacted with enough individuals to know this wasn't an act. His eyes lifted to look over the building once more. "No. Looking for the person that was supposed to be in it. Doesn't look like he's here, though." Kyyrk's voice had a crisp accent to it, almost akin to the classic Imperial accent. And yet, he didn't seem to be an Imperial. It was, of course, altered by the rebreather upon his face. Adding a slight digital sound to it. Kyyrk's brow furrowed as he looked beyond the walls in front of him. As he did so, the already brilliant violet glow of his eyes deepened the slightest amount.

"Hmph. Well, I'll have to cross this one off the list..." Kyyrk certainly spoke to himself this time. He withdrew a datapad from his belt and pulled up the list he'd been referencing for his stops. "Interesting part of town for you to be in." His off-hand comment rang odd. He spoke as if he knew the girl. Or knew of her. "Didn't think your kind patrolled all the way down here. But I suppose after the recent war you're all eager to show how powerful you think you are." The words were meant to be biting, for sure, but not overly so.

His tone suggested that he was calling upon some greater irony. And he was, in a sense. The Jedi had indeed won the war. But at what cost? Kyyrk glanced up from his datapad at the girl, specifically at her hip. Whoever this man was, he was clearly adept at Force Sight enough to know she was carrying a lightsaber. Yet at the same time, he had the decency to not call attention directly to it. The weapon was hidden, and he was sure the girl had her reasons for that. But while he didn't expect her to be a threat, he also didn't want her to entertain the idea that she could take him by surprise...
 

Kusana opened her mouth to speak, almost missing the remark he had just made. Realizing what he had said, she closed her mouth again to think. The one-eighty from "friendly passerby" to "scathing remarks on my personhood" had put her through a sort of shock for a few moments before she regained herself.

"I--", she began. "I'm sorry?" The tone of her voice was mostly confusion, but it did also contain a hint of that same bite that he had just used. She looked him over again, perhaps I had just missed something, she thought to herself. The clothes, the lightsaber, the datapad now in his hands...none of it told her why he would switch tone so abruptly.

It's something about me, then.

The situation she now found herself in was fundamentally not too different from the beginning of the conversation, but she wanted to be careful not to upset this person. There were many reasons for this, but chief among them was the lightsaber. She carried only a small ego in her Form III skills, and while she did experiment some with Form V before her master--...well, she was not confident in her ability. She regretted not making some analysis of her surroundings beforehand. If she needed to leave, she didn't currently know the best way to do so. For now, she would just talk.

"I don't know who you think I am," she started, "But I've never fought a war, and I don't belong to any organization that has. Or any organization at all, for that matter." She shifted her posture to look more relaxed. A thought entered her mind: Perhaps I can change the topic...

"What about you? Do you have a group to call your own?" She was pretty proud of this topic switch. There was no way he could switch the focus back to her now...right? Oh no...I hope I didn't just insult him. This last thought reflected on her face for the briefest moment before she arrested control of her face again.
 

The sun lazily set beneath the all too familiar cityscape. Synth-flour noodles, raw tibanna gas, clogged sewers and other equally repugnant odors reeked across the sprawling jungle of durasteel and concrete. All very similar to his new place of residence—Denon—and yet so different.

It felt good to be home. Right, even.

Even if it was for all the wrong reasons—the murder of senator DARKCOM DARKCOM ‘s aide for which the Sword of the Jedi and Dagon’s friend Ryv had been framed. Framed because the raven-haired Jedi would not believe Ryv was behind the murder. The Sword—after a long hiatus due to the catastrophic destruction of Csilla at the hands of the Brotherhood of the Maw—had reached out to Dagon on the same day of the murder, hinting he had crucial evidence about the massive conspiracy both were investigating.

Now Ryv had disappeared and with the investigation at a standstill, Dag was out to keep his mind busy by helping his old ‘friends’ from the 7th PD. Since Dagon was first inducted into the New Jedi Order at the age of eleven, he’d spend more and more time on crimefighting assignments on Coruscant. All he’d learned about investigations, he owed to Ryv - Coruscant’s son and protector. Kaze had donned that mantle for a while, in the initial phase of Stygian Campaign against the Sith Empire, before he left to follow the Sword to war; upon their victorious, yet traumatic return from the front lines, Dagon planted his roots on Denon, to be the world’s protector, just like Ryv had been Coruscant’s.

He found himself pursuing leads on an elusive ring of thieves which good ol’ lazy detective Garn deliberately ignored. Pay wasn’t enough was his usual go-to excuse. His face beamed when Dagon took the case from his shoulders.

Across the familiar rooftops, the raven-haired Jedi Knight dashed, reminiscing the old days before the war, before they had to carry the burden of the galaxy on their youthful shoulders. His covert trek was halted at the sight of two figures standing before a building; they wouldn’t have taken his attention if they had donned anything else but tunics and robes - very typical attire for Jedi, but not those of the New Jedi. The spacer trousers and iconic, learther jacket embroidered with the New Jedi Order’s symbol on the sleeve that he wore clearly indicated the stark contrast.

It was not only that, but most, if not all, New Jedi knew each other. Compared to their Silver Jedi cousins, they were a rag-tag crew wearing leather jackets that looked more like rebels with lightsabers than the traditional Jedi.

Crouching on the thin railing of a fire exit platform, he eavesdropped on the two when the man spoke:
"Didn't think your kind patrolled all the way down here. But I suppose after the recent war you're all eager to show how powerful you think you are." The words were meant to be biting, for sure, but not overly so.

Geez, brother, what’s with the shade throwing? We’re on the same team here, no?” a lopsided smirk crossed his face, he assumed they were Jedi. Then to both, “Long way from home I take it?

Kyyrk Kyyrk | Kusana Kusana
 

Balldozer

❝ Do Not Anger The Hamster. ❞
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Truthfully, things hadn't gone exactly how he had mapped them out in his head. Every day birthed new opportunities, new experiences, new sights to take in and more knowledge to soak in from a galaxy that he had been caged from his entire life. Soon enough, he'll enter new levels of debt, as well. In his defense- how could he have known how things operated? Balldozer was a master technician, a terrific mechanic, and a talented pilot. He was not well-versed in the financial quandaries of the galaxy.

The credits he owed to the people that had given him rides from planet to planet were piling up. In any other situation, Balldozer would take his chances and run from responsibility; but delaying the inevitable was as fruitless an endeavour as any. Which is why he found it increasingly difficult - against his better judgment - to deny the advances of a towering droid with offers as tempting as its optics were intimidating. The low grumbles of its voice, the sharp claws that idly drum against the dusty, unkept wall. It reminded him of a droid he'd encountered long ago, but the disturbing mask of flesh hiding its faceplate, only illuminated by yellow photoreceptors that pierced into his gaze the droid didn't even know he had... it made things difficult to make out, and equally as difficult to compose himself.

Busy, busy, busy, the droid had said. The offer lingered in the air for what felt like an eternity: destroy the cities of Coruscant, in exchange for a mouth-watering amount of credits... enough to not only pay off his debts, but to finally secure a starship of his own. Balldozer hadn't an inkling of idea of just how impossible such a task was. Sheltered by the harsh realities of life, he had blindly trusted the droid. His mech was more than capable of lethal demolitions - how hard could it be?

_CORUSCANT

The first few steps into the crowded city of Coruscant, Balldozer received nothing but wide-eyed stares and startling screams. Hindsight was king, of course, but it didn't make him feel any less stupid. When he had designed his mech from salvaged Droideka components, complete with imposing quadruped legs and large assault cannons, he was marvelling more at how great he had gotten at mechanics, not how utterly terrifying the sight would be. As much as he wanted to pop open his mech's hatch and show the world that, despite everything, he wasn't a droid, and was in fact just a cute rodent piloting one, he knew that it was in his best interest to keep his identity hidden from as many people as possible.

Not an issue. Backing away, he retracts the legs and blasters inside the mech, shaping into what was effectively a large bowling ball that rolled throughout the outskirts. The ship the droid had given him had the exact coordinates needed, but Coruscant was... well, it was busy, to say the least. A low whirr as he navigates through less populated lanes, a brief scan tells alerts him of an empty building up ahead.

Rolling around it, as inconspicuous a 5'4" mechanical ball could be, he studies the building's layout. A few moments of pondering turn to him repositioning, and from the central 'optic' of his mech, a firm grappling hook shots out to connect to the building walls with a satisfying tink. Slow and steady, the mech gradually pulls itself up, rolling upward as it inches closer and closer to the roof. A few mines here, and the structure will be dust.

His advances cease, for a split second. From within the mech, the rodent's ears twitch, and he turns to notice the distant chatter of three voices. An exhausted chirp that ended up translated as a disgruntled, robotic sigh, Balldozer realizes that the location isn't so empty after all.

Following the revelation, he attempts to pull himself downwards as steadily as he rose up, only for the hook to loosen and send the mech falling. In desperation, Balldozer's legs emerge once more, trying to soften his momentum by clinging to the wall, a spine-chilling scraping heard. Trying not to land on the floor, he retracts the grapple hook, waiting for it to recharge again, before shooting it out once more, but the damage is done. Balldozer swings himself forward, sparks flying off the floor, as he slams into the wall with a loud, deafening THUD, complimented by a visible dent.

Not his greatest plan.

[ Kusana Kusana | Kyyrk Kyyrk | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze ]

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LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
Lower Levels |
CORUSCANT


His imposing form hovered over the ledge like a stoic gothic icon from millennia passed, facing the adjoining rooftops with a sinister glare under the grim mask that hid his true face. He watched and waited, following his mark with dark resolve and sinister purpose. He was a predator on the hunt and his prey.. was a Jedi.

A nosy one at that, Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze . Digging into places he didn’t belong.

Letifer straightened his back and took a step off the ledge, he fell into the depths with one arm stretched out. Equipped with a Mandalorian Crushgaunt, the savage Sith Assassin gripped against the crumbling wall along his side and scraped against its surface. Landing atop a nearby balcony he pursued his prey in the shadows, roof by roof. His presence dampened by the force to avoid detection.

His feet touched against the hard duracrete surface as he reached another balcony lined with statuettes. The dark robed male leaned in and listened in on his prey as he confronted three additional figures from afar.

Oh lucky day. More victims.




 
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will you sink down to me?
Damsy slipped out of the Works relatively quietly.

There was always some sort of noise associated with climbing up that condemned elevator shaft and then shimmying out from under the cut wire fence meant to keep troubled youth out--but mostly of the Sithspawn set up within the makeshift camp were adults rather than youth, and surely not troubled themselves though most had come from troubled pasts and though the NJO would surely label them as currently troubled, so really the police's intension didn't apply to them.

Right?

Of course.

The few residents of the street which deadended in the transport tube had gotten used to monsters walking their streets, but hadn't raised the interests of local CDF jurisdictions for two reasons. One, the monsters' nice enough lady leader had come padded well enough to pay the residents for their troubles--which dovetailed into reason two. The rarely saw any of the monsters once, when they arrived to disappear into the elevator shaft, excepting of course the lady one, who wasn't just nice, but she talked and walked and altogether acted like them.

In a few words, she passed.

And none of them ever made trouble. Why involve the police and ruin a good thing? It wasn't like the people of Level 941 had a cushy life down so close to the abandoned Works. Simply saying no to what was essentially a monthly bribe was not an option even if the locals had felt the need to do it.

That part was quiet: walking out of the non-Sithspawn territory. Afterwards, Damsy moseyed her way onto a random level she had no real reason to be on other than to kill time.
 

Kusana was surprised to hear the new voice chime in. She was even more surprised to see that it didn't come from someone standing near them, but rather from someone upon a fire exit nearby. She couldn't help but scoff in respect to the contrast between what she had expected and what she didn't--that is to say, it was a little bit funny. She glanced back to Kyyrk Kyyrk before speaking up.

"I don't know about this one, but I travelled too much to have anywhere to call home as a kid." She gave a friendly smile to the new face, adjusting her robes slightly. They were all around a much more close-fit style than those of the traditional Jedi. The sleeves were snug against her arms and the waist was much more tight, although not enough so to accentuate anything of her form. She preferred anonymity wherever she could grasp it.

After speaking, she repositioned herself further from the two, before suddenly hearing a thundering crash nearby. Exploring all possibilities in her head, she briefly touched on such ideas as: I just broke something, and Someone finally came to kill me! Of course, neither of these were likely to be true, but the irrationality of a startled Kusana was not to be underestimated.
 

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W A N D E R

Wearing
Kyyrk sighed to himself quietly. He could sense the Jedi well before he approached. And, per typical, he had something to say. "My home is none of your concern, I think." Kyyrk looked up, stowing the datapad in his belt. His eyes did not have to wander to find Dagon. He already knew exactly where the young human was. Anyone skilled in the mutual art the three beings shared could infer his skill with Force Sense. He opened his mouth to say something, then a large crash sounded from near by. He closed his mouth, turning to look down the street towards the noise. A droid of some kind had fallen from the side of a building, it seemed.

Kyyrk's brow furrowed, watching a figure moving through the streets just a ways down. There was something familiar about the figure. But something his memory addled mind could not place. Then, it struck him.

Callat.

While Kyyrk had never been close to her in any capacity, it was through her that the Blackwing Virus on Atrisia had been stopped. And for that, Kyyrk was willing to consider her a hero. And despite all the changes he'd undergone, she was the most likely to identify him. A risk he wasn't willing to take right now. In spite of the fact that the two of them were more similar than anyone could possibly know. It was, however, time for him to make his leave. He'd not discovered what he wished to discover here, and there was still ground to cover. He turned back to the blue skinned girl and answered her question. "I did. And with any luck I'll find my way back to them."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, then it curled in an expression of disgust. It was, however, hidden by the rebreather over his face. He turned slowly to look up into the buildings, then called out to the Jedi once more. "I wish you well on your hunt, Brother. May the Force guide your blade." He turned back to the girl and said quietly, "The air grows thick with Darkness. Unless you seek a fight, it may be time for you to leave as well."
 
The girl's reply was friendly, the man's—less so. And given her reply, Dagon deduced the pair did not know each other; made him wonder if they were after all Silvers at all. At first they had his attention, now they had the investigator's curiosity. Call it a gut feeling.

A loud crash nearby hardly took his attention, they were after all on Coruscant. It's the silence you've gotta worry about for here. The robed girl's startled reaction to it only confirmed her words she was not local, but the man? He was hard to get a read on, but he did seem eager to depart in a hurry.

Almost suspicious.

Almost.

"Thanks, brother," he replied, then his blue eyes shifted to the woman. She seemed to have taken a few steps back from both, Dagon bluffed on his assumption, "You said traveling, huh? So like... traveling Jedi? Wayseekers?"

Kyyrk Kyyrk | Kusana Kusana | Balldozer Balldozer | Lord Letifer Lord Letifer | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat (oh no)
 

Balldozer

❝ Do Not Anger The Hamster. ❞
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A minor setback. Nothing that couldn't be rectified, he thought, as the mech pulls itself up with a mild tremble. Dust and pinpricks of debri flutter to the ground, and the rodent has to collect himself- he isn't a stranger to swinging around, no, in fact it was one of the many things his mech was deliberately designed to do. He was just... still learning the ropes.

"Initiating Self-Diagnosis: All systems operational. Damage minimal. Self-Diagnosis complete." speaks the low monotone voice of the mech. Perfect. Balldozer's legs take steps to realign themselves, and soon the droid has shaken off any stiffness in its servos the impact had caused. A passing glance to the direction of the voices, and from within the mech, Gizmo's ears perk up. His incompetence had gone undetected.

Third time's the charm as his grapple hook reattaches itself to the wall. He's not messing up this time. With a swift jump into the air, Balldozer's legs retract once again, and up he goes. The satisfying hum of his machinery against his ears, there are no distractions, no second-guesses. Gizmo tilts the mech, and soon Balldozer's swinging from side to side, slowly but steadily gaining momentum. Eyes focused on the speed tracked on the mech's inner interface, it isn't before long that Balldozer has swung himself upwards, recalling the grapple hook back to its central eye, and with him now high above the building's roof, he piledrives. The mech flips rapidly, and with another tilt downwards, SLAMS down with the force to completely shatter the roof's bricks as he forces an opening and blows a hole open.

Reaching the floor in record time, Balldozer's legs emerge, and another quick scan alerts him of optimal weak points to demolish the building. Inching closer, finger on the trigger, Balldozer hesitates. Was this worth it? He knows so little of Coruscant- of the galaxy. There's a brief minute of pure silence, nothing but the sound of his own breathing from the inside of the mech, as he contemplates what he was about to do.

And then there's a deafeningly loud series of explosions as fifteen proximity mines are shot out from his mech, clinging to the walls, exploding within milliseconds of a button push. He has no time to think or react, and a part of him doesn't want to, as the blast demolishes the building's foundation, engulfed in blinding smoke, sending Balldozer flying out the front, tearing a new hole through the entire building before it collapses in on itself.

He has the sense to engage in ball form mid-flight, rolling incredibly fast across the ground, slamming into another wall. His legs protrude out, and he glances up to see his handiwork - the place is barely standing. Gizmo thanks himself for hiding from within the mech, because his eyes were wide with remorse, and a heavy guilt throbbed in his heart. His breath hitches, and it isn't until his hearing comes back from a point-blank explosion that he notices he's been flung right beside the group he had heard earlier; Kusana Kusana , Kyyrk Kyyrk , Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze .

Gizmo's heart is pounding frantically. Without even thinking, Balldozer's twin Quad-Cannons emerge, trembling subtly from just how shaky the rodent's hands were on their triggers.


"Remain calm." the mech says. To the others, it appears to be talking to them. It was Gizmo talking to himself.
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Kusana heard what the man with the respirator had said. She heard it, but she was silent. As much as she wanted and tried to hide it, there was a certain emotion that sneered its ugly face through her hair, my hair! Crap!

With the slow crawl of a flame her hair, starting from the roots, began to shift color from its calm orange-purple haze to a radiant orange and red. With a swift motion she pulled up her hood to hide it, but the softest of glows could be seen from underneath. It gave her face the same illumination as a distant campfire might.

That was when the chaos of the explosions and the droid prompted her to give in to the fear that was creeping its way into her heart this whole conversation, and she reached for her lightsaber. She managed to stop herself before igniting it, but it was clear she would need some convincing to not quarter this droid where it stood. Which brought to mind her pacifist philosophies. Do droids count? Perhaps this thought was another reason she stopped herself from igniting the blade.

Whatever the ultimate reason was for hesitating, she was glad she did. With the faintest of certainties she felt as though this was more than a droid. Whether it was intuition, the Force, or an excuse to avoid a fight, she didn't much care. What she did care about was that there was a chance, and she needed to be sure.

Then it unleashed blasters.

She ignited the blade instantly, jumping backwards toward as clear an area as she could get from everything around her. With her right arm pulled behind her, she pointed both the blade and her left hand toward the group. The opening stance to Soresu, the green light piercing the increasingly low light of the environment clashed with the soft orange glow of her hair under her hood. Whatever illusion of calm she had put on, it was gone now. The more astute among the group might see the fear in her eyes. She was not ready to fight, she was ready to run.
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Kyyrk Kyyrk || Balldozer Balldozer || Damsy Callat Damsy Callat || Lord Letifer Lord Letifer || Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze
 
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Wearing
Kyyrk paused, turning back to look at the Jedi that called him a wayseeker. Wasn't right, but it also wasn't wrong. "Not exactly, but it is close enough to get the point across. My concern lies with the gates, and nothing more." Even though it may not be obvious to Dagon, it explained why he was here. He of course referred to the hypergates, reaching into the realms of Oblivion. But from his tone, it wasn't obvious If he worshiped them, or dreaded them. But he certainly didn't seem to be a servant of Omni.

Kyyrk was about to speak once more when there was another crash, this one loud and close enough to call his attention. He turned to see the large droid sitting there on the ground, looking at them. He could feel the small spike of fear from the woman behind him, if only through her actions. He did not move, standing in a tense silence while they stared back and forth. There was something....odd about this droid.

But Kyyrk did not have time to wonder for long. Twin cannons emerged from the thing, and his lightsaber ignited almost immediately. The Force carried the blade from his back to his right hand, which he held out and low, a starting stance for Form II. Surprisingly, the blade was not blue nor green, but a pure white blade, with hints of electricity rippling through it. His left hand was lifted to point at the droid, clearly ready to send forth the Force in some capacity or another. The fingers, now obvious because of his actions, were clearly mechanical, the sun glinting off the metal digits. Two steps were taken to place the man between the droid and the blue skinned girl.

Kyyrk hoped that the lightsaber was just for show. Depending on the droid, he may be able to talk his way out of this one. "Hold! Hold! We mean you no harm. Nor have you harmed us. We have no quarrel here. Not unless you bring it with you. Let's stand down, put our weapons away, before someone does something drastic. No need to be uncivilized about this..."
 
will you sink down to me?
Damsy Callat, Sithspawn of the Jedi looked very different these days from Damsy Callat, Adjunct-Major of the 117th Dauntless Legion or Damsy Callat, Warmistress of House Verd:

Way back when, between her birth on Kamino and assumed death on Atrisia, she used to have a different body, changing of course because what had happened to her. But this was the one that Confederates had gotten used to after the news broke that Niobe Crowe and her person was really Damsy Callat and hers.

Since her final exit stage left, border northeast, from Confederated service and space respectively (thought only kind-of sort-of respectfully), she had given up body armor of various types for the NJO dress code, if one could indeed call it that without grossly oversimplifying the requirements therein, except for an Alliance hypergate expedition.

And now, most recently, a pair of sunglasses had integrated into the default fit of street clothes she had had for months now.

Point was, it would have surprised her to know that a former countryman was able to identify her from so far away. Her presence in the empyrean had stayed much the same as it always was, or at least the qualities of it she portrayed to others had. The source of her Darkness lurked below the surface of a sea every so often choppy but otherwise perfectly calm. Otherwise said, there was no hint of the alchemized ghosts that haunted Damsy. It seemed that she had emerged from her half-pilgrimage into Sith territories--back when they still were--with something of an understanding with Syreni.

For that, she knew no one would be proud of her; well, but Arisso, Motina*, Sen, and the others; so she would quietly celebrate herself by herself.

The Jedi would never understand. Dagon Kaze would never--

Speak of Bogan, Damsy groaned, rolling her eyes but stopping in her tracks anyway. She hated to admit it to herself, so she wouldn't do it aloud even under threat of metamorphosis (which was a fate worst that death as far as she was concerned), but the Jedi had grown on her like barnacles sometime had when she had been swimming the Kaminoan seas. Though, she couldn't decide quite yet if he was one of the normal ones that hitched rides and were annoying in large colonies but did no real harm; or one of the rarer parasitic ones that quickly became problematic even individually.

She glanced to a rooftop over the way, sight following the thread of his Force signature. She had gotten used to his over the time they had known each other, and likewise assumed he had hers. But maybe that was her hoping, nursing a friendship-crush she knew she shouldn't. He was knelt, conversing with a pair of robes whose energies she couldn't place. Knowing him, he was mid-investigation. She was about to walk away when chaos, dark and grey and stormy, drew over the group a moment before the curtain tore. Everyone including a new, spherical addition to the alleyway party drew their weapons. Damsy instinctually went for her trident-staff, but kept the handle on her belt.

Screw the potential of karking up his case.

"Dag??!" she called out as more of a 'What do you need from me?' rather than an 'Is that you?' The latter was confirmation she didn't need.



**
Kusana Kusana | Kyyrk Kyyrk | Balldozer Balldozer | Lord Letifer Lord Letifer |
Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze (what do u mean, 'oh no'? i've only tried to kill you once & i said sorry)
* Mother (not used literally)
 
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Balldozer

❝ Do Not Anger The Hamster. ❞
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Balldozer remains firmly staring at the group he had intruded upon. Sweat beads at the rodent's brow, dripping down his cheek, and the mech pulls backwards at a sight he never knew he'd see so soon. The satisfying hum of dual lightsabers, their glow almost hypnotic, and for a while, Balldozer isn't sure how to react. On one hand, he wants to admire the weapons - ask and pester their respective owners about the intricacies of such a divine privilege. One looks almost archaic, like a remnant of the past he can't help but appreciate. The other, a modern glow of white encased in what he could identify as songsteel. There's a set of thuds and mechanical whirrs as the mech's legs take precautionary steps backwards.

These people... they could be Jedi. From within the droid, Gizmo's eyes are wide, and he feels his grip on the gun's triggers loosen, demonstrated by the assault cannons lowering ever so slightly. To be in the presence of such highly commemorated figures... Balldozer would take a bow of respect, but the mech's legs are physically incapable. Instead, to pierce the sound of silence hanging over the tense air, the dual assault cannons are retracted inside the mech's side panels in a sign of peace.

"I did not mean to alarm." he says, and the voice is... slower. As if contemplating what to say. Luckily, the droid can't quite translate how difficult Gizmo finds it to speak. "My apologies." And then there's the slight glance towards their blades, and the droid can't help but ask,

"Are you... Jedi?"

[ Kusana Kusana | Kyyrk Kyyrk | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat | Lord Letifer Lord Letifer ]

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Kusana eyed the scene with a situational awareness she didn't know she had. She dared not close her eyes, but it felt as though the edges of her peripheral vision--and even beyond, where she could not rely on her sight--were clear to her. As the cannons retracted back into their slots, she was hesitant to back down.

"Breathe." The voice of her master echoed through her head. "You're doing it again. Panicking." She took a deep breath in, then out. Her heartrate slowed. Another deep breath in, then out. Her mind cleared. She closed her eyes, extinguished her lightsaber, and chuckled a moment. The way the "droid" hesitated in its question was reinforcing her gut feeling that it was no droid at all.

"No. At least, not me." She was unsure of how much to say in the presence of the others, but with her hindsight and the words of her master in mind, she could see that there was truly never much threat at all from the two she was speaking with. Paranoia; it seemed to arrest control of her thoughts when she spoke to strangers.

With the calm permeating her mind, she clipped her lightsaber hilt back onto her belt and pulled her hood back down. Her hair was its normal color, as though it had never changed to begin with.
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Balldozer Balldozer || Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze || Damsy Callat Damsy Callat || Kyyrk Kyyrk || Lord Letifer Lord Letifer
 

Balldozer

❝ Do Not Anger The Hamster. ❞
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The words that left her mouth were greeted with mixed reception behind the firm spherical plating of durasteel. Some part of him truly wanted her to be a Jedi - a thing of legend, something he had only ever heard stories of from within the testing facility he had spent his entire life. The other parts of him exhale in bottled-up relief, because the image of a well-trained professional Jedi cutting him to pieces was not one he liked to linger on. He studies her, the lens of the mech's central optic circling around its photoreceptor in order to get a better look at the woman, as well as the lightsaber that had been recalled into its base. Balldozer has the kindness to not get too intrusive-- no matter how fascinated he was, he knew a scan would be a violation of personal space.

"I have never seen a lightsaber." He says simply, eyeing the blade's handle. "Your hilt. It looks... anachronistic. Very antique, but not particularly outdated." The mech's voice is devoid of emotion, a simple translation device; low, monotone. By all means, it's impossible for it to feel soft, for the mech to ever display the awe and admiration Gizmo so desperately wants the woman to hear. Whether it be fear, anger, happiness, or anything in-between, Balldozer simply wasn't equipped to showcase it.

But he wants to try.

The mech inches closer the subtlest of amount. The last thing he wants to do is frighten her. "My name is Balldozer. My apologies once more for the scare, but it is nonetheless nice to meet you, Not-Jedi."

A single quad-cannon emerges from its side, and as if knowing immediately how the woman would respond, there's a warm hum of the mech's servos and a
"QUAD-CANNONS offline.". Balldozer extends the blaster. "This is not a threat. It is a handshake. I do not have hands. Ha. Ha."


[ Kusana Kusana | Kyyrk Kyyrk | Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat | Lord Letifer Lord Letifer ]

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Before he could put much meaning to the man's words, the ground beneath his feet began to shake wildly. The fire escape stairs rattled and squeal as steel beams bent under the tension, one railing bar from above loosened from its socket and swung at Dagon. He dove off the railing he had been crouching on straight at a clothing line pole protruding from the building, swinging from it into a backflip landing a few feet from the two mysterious travellers and...a mech-ball, droid of some sorts - the source of the demolitions.

The raven-haired Jedi barely had time to cringe at the costs of property damage left in the droid's wake as canons emerged from the spherical cause of destruction. His lightsaber hilt materialized in his hand but the two travellers were quicker, their blades illuminating their faces. The woman wielded a green blade but to the droid's follow up question, she claimed not to be a Jedi; the man, on the other hand, carried a blade of pure white plasma. He had stepped up to diffuse the situation verbally with success.

Dagon was about to cite the criminal code on the droid when a familiar voice straightened his back like a jolt.

"Damsy?!" he blinked, turning his head to the side at her approaching form. Been a while. He'd been the one to bring her to the Jedi Temple seeking ways to help her deal with the curse of the Sithspawn she had been plagued with. As much as he'd wanted to keep tabs on her, the spiraling chaos of the galaxy had dragged him from one end of the universe to the other relentlessly; he regretted not having his master's all-seeing eyes and mind. The Jedi's shoulders eased at the sight of her. Damsy looked like she was doing well, though.

"...kinda busy right now--" he jerked his head at the spherical menace and replied to its inquiry, "I am. And you're under arrest, pal." he gestured at the wreck behind the droid as he approached him, then, "Think you know the reason why." nothing in his voice betrayed hostility, as a matter of fact, he found the whole situation comical to an extent.

Kyyrk Kyyrk | Kusana Kusana | Balldozer Balldozer | Lord Letifer Lord Letifer | Damsy Callat Damsy Callat (oh no)
 

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