Faction Checkpint on soullex

[Laphisto]

Laphisto remained in-system, overseeing the deployment of several LO-DIA Orbital Defense Platforms. In the wake of the attack on Vexis Station, whispers of a Mandalorian offensive carried weight, and he was determined that if they came, they would find no easy prey. The Diarchy would make them fight tooth and nail for every step into its territory.

For the moment, Laphisto was stationed aboard a modest checkpoint installation in orbit of the planet. It was not a fortress by design, but it served a purpose just as vital control of the border, control of the flow of people and ships. Every shuttle that docked was required to offload its passengers for inspection. Each traveler passed through security cordons, undergoing identity checks, registry verification, and testing before being cleared to proceed deeper into Diarchy space.

The traffic was constant, the atmosphere tense but orderly. Diarchy Security forces in LO-48B armor stood sentinel at choke points, their discipline and presence a reminder that this was not a station of commerce, but a line of defense. Automated scanners hummed and clicked, data flowing into central consoles where officers cross-referenced arrivals against government watchlists. From the command deck, Laphisto observed the rhythm of it all a machine of vigilance, patient and unyielding.

Deeper within the station, the flow of arriving passengers funneled into controlled corridors where Diarchy Security officers oversaw the offloading process. Travelers were herded into single-file lines, a slow, deliberate march forward beneath the unblinking gaze of armored sentries.

At the first station, they surrendered their belonging luggage, datapads, personal weapons, even the smallest bits of metalall dropped into scanning trays that disappeared along humming conveyor belts. From there, the travelers moved into a second chamber where the real scrutiny began.

Each passenger was instructed to stand beneath an archway scanner, arms raised high over their head. The device bathed them in a pale blue glow, humming as it swept for concealed weapons, contraband, or more elusive signatures. When the light pulsed green, the guards gave a curt nod, and the individual was allowed to continue on toward the secondary checkpoint deeper in the station.

But every so often, the scanner pulsed red. The alarm was not loud, only a sharp electronic tone, yet it froze the line in place. Without hesitation, two Lilaste troopers would peel from their posts, stepping forward to flank the individual. The passenger would be quietly but firmly pulled from the line, marched through a set of reinforced double doors that sealed shut behind them. Beyond those doors lay the secondary screening chambers, where inspections became far less routine.

The line always resumed a heartbeat later, the machine of order grinding forward without pause. The silence was deliberate no explanations offered, no questions answered. Those taken aside simply vanished from sight, leaving the rest to shuffle forward under the watchful eyes of soldiers and scanners.


Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby had no idea where he was, moving from planet to planet, he knew there was some kind of war going on but had no idea who was involved.

But this place was different, more controlled, the boy felt that this time he wasn't the only one who felt watched, the place made people feel that way.

He breathed to calm himself, trying to hide the Force, and doing so was difficult. The flow of the Force was the first thing he felt when he opened his eyes, before any fragment of his shattered mind appeared, the Force and the Dark Side.

As he approached the scanner, he noticed the soldiers were agitated, not only that, but everything screamed danger. The red-haired boy began to fight his instinct to run across. He was in the middle of a piece of metal in space. Maybe running and stealing a ship was feasible, but then where to? He would be hunted.

'Power'

One of his memory fragments hammered in his head, the ancient, powerful voice hammering the word in his head. He closed one eye, feeling the twinge inside his head, his anxiety increasing and the soldiers' movements becoming agitated.

Then, in a flash of red, a guard aggressively charged at him. He jumped, a flash of red, and when he looked, he was on the other side, people screaming, one of the soldiers wounded, his lightkatana in his hand.

The Dark Side had chosen for him: Power, Domination, Destruction. The powerful voice reminded him of the red desert where he had never been.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto was deep in the station's CIC when the first alarms began to shriek through the walls, red strobes cutting across the dim-lit command deck. The lights pulsed in rhythm with the rumble of distant bulkheads sealing shut, the whole transport hub shifting into lockdown mode. His ears pinned back instinctively against his skull, the old predator's response flaring before his voice followed, low and edged.

"What's going on?"

Across from him, the station commander nearly fumbled his stylus as he scrambled over the console. Fingers clattered against the datapad, streams of scrolling warnings flashing across the holo-display. A sheen of nervous sweat broke over the man's brow before he snapped his gaze up at Laphisto, voice clipped but straining to keep control.

"Unidentified Force-user on station, sir. Broke out of processing. Already attacked one of my guards cut him with some kind of blade. Reinforcements are en route, but…" The commander's throat bobbed as the alarms pulsed louder, the red glow painting his face in uneasy shadows. "He's moving fast. Patrols can't pin him."

A low rumble escaped Laphisto's chest, more growl than breath, as his eyes narrowed to slits. He let his senses drift outward, uncoiling his awareness like a tide through the station's corridors. The currents of the Force brushed against countless flickers of life technicians hunched over terminals, soldiers tense at their posts, civilians huddled in sealed-off processing bays. Each mind was a pinprick of light, easily touched, easily dismissed.

Until he found the storm. Aknoby The boy's presence was jagged, seething, an open wound bleeding with the Dark Side. Laphisto pressed in further, his own will encircling the fractured consciousness like a tightening loop of iron. For a heartbeat, he felt the boy's fear tangled with raw instinct, the pulse of something older and harsher whispering within him.

Laphisto's voice slid into the youth's thoughts, not loud but heavy as stone, a command that allowed no argument."Don't." The word struck like a hammer, echoing across the fragile barriers of Aknoby's mind. Laphisto pulled back slowly, the tether of his presence withdrawing before it risked crushing the boy entirely. He blinked once, the glow of the red alarms strobing across his armor, then shook his head with a restrained exhale.

"Have your men stand down, Commander," he ordered, his tone clipped but ironclad. "Keep eyes on him, but do not engage. Cornered prey lashes out and you don't need to lose more soldiers to panic." The commander hesitated, eyes darting to the holo-feed of the transport hub, where the boy's silhouette stood with a blood-red blade in hand. He swallowed hard but nodded, already relaying the command to the squads waiting on edge.

Laphisto made his way through the station's steel corridors with deliberate weight, each step a heavy stomp that echoed off the durasteel bulkheads. His arms clasped neatly behind his back, posture rigid with authority, but the scrape of his taloned feet against the deck betrayed the predator beneath the calm façade. A low rumble thrummed in his throat, steady as a warning drumbeat, rolling ahead of him as if to announce his approach.

He kept his thoughts focused on the boy Aknoby's fractured aura burned in the Force like a wildfire, unstable and lashing against the minds around it. Laphisto only hoped his earlier command had seeded hesitation, or at the very least confusion, enough to blunt the boy's reflexes. One panicked move in a hall full of soldiers could set the entire station ablaze in blood.

And the truth was, the boy was lucky. If this had been the Lilaste Order, the encounter would already be over. Their security teams favored slugthrowers, weapons built for brutal efficiency, the kind that shredded bodies and left little to chance. and had the training and prowess to take on both jedi and sith forces alike. A Diarchy garrison, by contrast, held blasters, lethal still, but cleaner, quicker, less savage. Perhaps mercy in the wrong kind of way.

He let that thought simmer as he approached the checkpoint, the crimson lights washing over rows of soldiers struggling to hold formation. Their eyes kept flicking to the figure in the hub, the red-haired youth clutching his unnatural blade, fear and anticipation tightening the air like a coiled spring. Laphisto exhaled slowly, a rumble softening into silence as he drew nearer. The boy would see him soon, feel him in the Force before the first word was even spoken. And when that moment came, it would decide everything whether this ended in restraint or carnage.

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby was agitated. The voice in his mind wanted him to destroy everything, but the boy was not stupid. Destroying everything would mean dying in the vacuum of space or being thrown into an entrance on the planet.

He moved quickly, swinging his lightkatana to deflect the shots, but in his desperation to escape, he didn't aim, so the deflected shots only grazed the guards' armour.

Then another different voice, he stopped, one hand on his head, confused, his body trembling as the conflict in his head raged.

He starts moving again, and then it happens: a small group of soldiers disobeys Laphisto's orders and tries to play the heroes, shouting 'Death to the Sith' or something like that.

The boy reacts, reflecting shots, jumping and slashing. To Laphisto, it is obvious that he is combining Forms 4 and 5 with some erratic movements from some other form.

The small group of guards who thought they were heroes are now dead. Aknoby's breathing quickens and becomes heavier, his eyes now yellow and fear once again taking over, causing him to move around looking for a way out.

"I need to findo teh red sand."

He says ina low tone,images of the red desert with red skies flashing on his head again as his keep moving lookign for a way to scape teh station

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's brow furrowed, a low rumble curling from deep in his chest as the latest reports crackled across the CIC feeds. Soldiers, his soldiers by extension had disobeyed the order. The boy had been pushed, provoked, and now blood stained the hub floor.His taloned fingers curled against the edge of his vambrace, claws scraping the metal with a faint skrrt as his patience thinned.

The frown lingered, heavy with disapproval, and he gave his head a slow shake. Perhaps the child would have been safer under Lilaste Order custody after all. At least there, discipline was absolute. Lilaste personnel would never dare disobey a direct command from their High Commander not for personal glory, not for fear, not for anything.

The Diarchy forces were brave, yes, but bravery without discipline was recklessness, His gaze swept the corridor ahead, catching a cluster of security men pressed against bulkhead cover, jittery and uncertain. With a flick of his will, the Force extended outward, tugging at the weight on one man's belt. A commlink snapped free of its clip and sailed cleanly into Laphisto's palm as he passed, his stride never breaking. He depressed the activator, his gravelled voice carrying through the channel with the force of command.

Laphisto's talon pressed firmly against the comm's activator, his voice cutting through the chaos of the hub like the crack of a whip."This is High Commander Laphisto of the Lilaste Order Chief Military Command of the Diarchy. Hear me clearly. The next soldier who dares open fire on that Force user will answer to me directly. You will face formal court-martial and imprisonment, stripped of your rank, your weapon, and your honor."

His words rolled heavy through the channel, every syllable carrying the weight of centuries of command. The silence that followed was taut, as if the entire station was holding its breath. He rarely invoked his full station and title, preferring to lead by presence rather than threat, but now was not the time for restraint. Not with lives already wasted on reckless bravado.

"That is not a suggestion," he continued, his tone a low growl now, resonant and final. "It is a direct order from the highest chain of command second only to the Diarchs themselves, and to the High chancellor Maldor Sancetti ." He exhaled softly through his nose, ears angling back as the words left him. He despised wielding his rank like a club, but some men only obeyed when faced with the absolute weight of authority. And in this moment, with fear feeding the boy's anger, there was no room left for anything else.

As Laphisto rounded the final corner into the transport hub, the sharp tang of scorched metal and ozone met his senses. The floor was littered with smoldering blaster scoring, and among it lay the broken bodies of the security detail who had defied his command. He stepped over them without hesitation, though a deep frown creased his features soldiers or not, they were his responsibility now, and their arrogance had only fed the chaos.

His taloned feet scraped softly against the deck as he crossed the threshold, arms clasped neatly behind his back. Every motion was measured, deliberate, designed to project control where panic still lingered. At full height he towered, nearly seven and a half feet of armored bulk and coiled presence, a living reminder of the authority he carried.

Aknoby was there at the center, blade in hand, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts. His aura in the Force was jagged, restless an animal cornered and bleeding anger into everything around him.

Laphisto paused a few paces away, shoulders squaring, his gaze fixed firmly on the boy. He cleared his throat, the sound low and resonant, carrying across the blood-stained chamber. And when he finally spoke, the voice was unmistakable: the same presence that had pressed into Aknoby's mind earlier, now reaching his ears in flesh and breath. "Calm yourself now," Laphisto rumbled, tone firm but not unkind. "It's alright. I've ensured no one else will raise a hand against you. No one will try to harm you again."

He let the words hang for a heartbeat, letting his composure act as the counterweight to the storm writhing in the boy's chest. Then his head tilted slightly, golden eyes narrowing with subtle authority. "But I need something from you, kid," he continued, his voice steady as a blade sliding into its sheath. "I need you to deactivate that weapon. Hand stays steady, eyes forward. Show me you can hold yourself still."

Aknoby

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Laphisto Aknoby

There were both good and bad aspects of being the apprentice to the High Commander. Today was one of the bad ones. Boring duty, keeping an eye on the lines moving through the station. Security was higher now, and more people needed to be stopped and questioned. Laphisto had given her instructions on doing her duty and while she wanted to be anywhere else other than in space...she did have her job to do.

When the alarms started screaming, she sat up quickly, so much for having an easy shift. As she wasn't on the floor with the guards, she wasn't wearing her helm, which changed in a heartbeat, and it clicked in place with a comforting snap and hiss. Hearing the immediate chatter of the men, she honed in on one voice. The familiar tones and intonation of her master. Listening to his orders and reaching out with the Force to locate him, she followed their connection to the floor he was on.

A strange, young man was lose on the floor. He had attacked one of the guards and then another group that had been trying to detain him. Cursing, she didn't broadcast what she was saying. Instead, she hurried to join Laphisto. His orders were clearer than a cloudless sky to her, but she continued. She wasn't going to be one who disobeyed him, but she wanted to be present to help this boy and support her friend and leader.

At her sides were her weapons. Neither of them was in her hands as she walked up to stand next to her master. Like a coiled serpent, she was ready to move if the boy were to try to attack them. However, she wasn't projecting any hostility.

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby stopped and looked around, noticing that the guards had stopped advancing, some even retreating, but there was no way for him to escape.

Then he sensed someone following him in the Force, and that man with horns appeared. Something in him helped the red-haired boy begin to calm down. Slowly, he lowers the hand holding the weapon but does not turn it off yet.

He notices the girl approaching, and although she is unarmed, something in her body language bothers him, but he turns off the lightkatana anyway.

He makes a pained face, something in his fragmented memory, perhaps his old instincts, screaming that he shouldn't do this in a language he doesn't know but understands. He takes a deep breath, pushing the memories or whatever it is to the back of his mind, and puts the weapon away.

He looks at the man, waiting in silence.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto's gaze flicked downward as Iandre came to stand beside him, her helmet now sealed, her posture disciplined but quietly coiled with readiness. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that barely reached his eyes but carried genuine weight. He was glad he had brought her along.

Truth be told, he had almost left her behind on Bastion. A few days of rest and recovery would have done her well, especially after the gauntlet of campaigns they'd both been through. But when he had first broached the idea and seen the flicker of disinterest in her expression boredom at the thought of such a simple posting he'd changed his mind. It had been prudent to bring her. She needed to learn what he already knew: that even the quietest, dullest assignments could matter just as much as those filled with fire and glory.

And now, with alarms still fading in the distance and the taste of tension lingering in the air, he almost allowed himself a rumble of amusement. Fate had a way of turning lessons into lived truths. Here, standing over bloodied deckplates with a Force-touched stranger glaring their way, he could lean into the lesson fully showing her that security detail could prove every bit as dangerous, and every bit as important, as the battlefield itself.

As the boy finally powered down his weapon, the crimson blade collapsing into silence, Laphisto moved. Each step was steady, deliberate, the scrape of his talons against the deck punctuating the heavy quiet that now hung over the chamber. His posture remained calm, arms no longer behind his back but one hand extended forward, palm open in a gesture meant to bridge command and reassurance.

"Good," he rumbled, his voice low but carrying the kind of authority that left no room for doubt. "Now… hand it over."The words were firm, yet not sharp. There was no malice in them, only necessity, a reminder of control being offered rather than torn away. "Don't worry. You'll get it back," he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took another measured step closer. "But we cannot afford another incident where you lose control. For the safety of yourself and everyone else in this station you will hand it over to me for the time being."

By now, the boy would feel it. The Force around Laphisto wasn't just present it was spilling outward, bleeding into the air like heat radiating from an overworked furnace. His presence was overwhelming, not aggressive but impossible to ignore, an ocean pressing against the edges of a shallow cup. Standing this close, it was as if the very bulkheads hummed with the excess power rolling off him, restrained but ever-threatening to overflow.

Each step Laphisto took closer pressed that sensation tighter, not a threat but a demonstration: he was a wall, a tide, something the boy could not hope to push past. And yet, within that weight, there was the faintest current of patience an anchor extended in the storm.As Laphisto advanced, the sound of shuffling boots and the subtle scrape of armor plates reached his ears. He didn't need to look to know what it meantnervous soldiers, lingering too close, hands twitching near their triggers.

His head turned just enough, gaze cutting toward the shadows where a few guards were peeking around the bulkhead. The narrow slits of his gaze were enough to send a chill down their spines. His stare lingered, sharp as a blade, a silent promise of consequences far worse than whatever threat the boy posed.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado dissolving under the weight of his scrutiny. One by one they eased back, retreating behind the corner they had been crowding, their weapons lowering as if to distance themselves from their own poor judgment. A soft rumble rolled from Laphisto's throat as he turned his attention forward once more. The last thing he needed was yet another reckless, trigger-happy recruit trying to make a name for themselves especially now, with the boy already teetering on the knife's edge of control.

Iandre Athlea Aknoby

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The situation was tense, and Iandre felt like they were standing next to a powder keg. One that could explode at any moment. However, the calming attitude of her master played a greater role in the mix. Maybe it wasn't good that she had shown up. When she came into view, the stranger's focus shifted to her. It seemed like she made him uncomfortable, but she didn't know how to soothe his frazzled nerves.

The lesson Laphisto accidentally gave her was one the former Jedi learned quickly. Nothing was always as it appeared it would be. While she had expected a boring rotation of duty and guarding, it had turned into something quite different. She could also sense Laphisto's "I told you" thought, but she didn't press on that button. It was a conversation they would have later.

Remaining in her spot as if she were glued down, she sensed she made the boy uncomfortable. Most likely, it was how she held herself with confidence. So many people were wilting flowers, and Iandre was far from one of those. Turning her attention to the other troops around, she would make note of them.

Perhaps they needed additional training, and there would be a point in her life when she would need to make decisions on who got promoted and who didn't. Her focus moved among them as they stepped back and away from the boiling confrontation that was in front of them.

Her master would take care of it, and they would be witnesses.

Aknoby Laphisto

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby looks at the deactivated weapon. He is not sure if the weapon is his. He remembers when he first woke up and the weapon was lying next to him. It was not difficult to hand it over to Laphisto, and to the young man's surprise, no flashback about the importance of the weapon came to mind.

He looks at the girl there who seems distracted by the guards around her. He still doesn't know what to think about her; in fact, he doesn't have an opinion about anyone there yet.
With a more relaxed posture, but still on alert as if on yellow alert, he looks at the adult man and remains silent, waiting for what else he would ask. So far, he seems like a reasonable person, despite being imposing, and the young redhead feels slightly uncomfortable with the authority figure in front of him, but for now, he sees no reason to be hostile again.

Laphisto Iandre Athlea