Invasion Cleansing Fire | BotM Invasion of GA held Jedha and Jakku

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jedha, New Jedha City
Engaging: Yula Perl
Nearby: Keilara Kala'myr | Zark San Tekka | Gorthalon | Bernard of Arca | Westenra Mina

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel drops his sword to take away Yula's aerial footing
  • This allows him to evade her robo-limb strike at his head
• He twists his body to turn her lightsaber strike into a glancing hit
  • He still suffers a saber cut to his torso chassis
• He attempts to spray her down with adhesive foam and immobilize her
• Callym dispatches Scav Kings to help Mercy clear the rooftops
• Marauders charge Tythoni Plaza and try to cut off the retreat Bernard of Arca ordered

"Hi, I'm Yula-"

He didn't care. Did one learn the names of bugs before stepping on them? The Mongrel's colossal sword raced from one side of the alley to the other, a horizontal wall of steel obliterating anything in its path, drawing sparks as it smashed into (and cracked) the sandstone wall on his left. But the Jedi was quick, too quick to be so easily slain. At the last second she ducked beneath the scything blade... though not quite quickly enough to avoid all harm, as the strike still sheared off one of her battlesuit's insect-like extra limbs. First blood to the Mawite.

Figuratively, anyway. No actual blood, just sparks.

His foe's riposte was quick. Two more spidery legs, the vengeful siblings of the one he'd severed, lashed out and grabbed the edge of his warblade, still partially embedded in the far wall due to the force of the blow. For a moment, The Mongrel was incredulous; did she really mean to attempt to jerk it out of his durasteel grasp? But no; she was playing to her strengths, and her strengths were her speed and agility. So she climbed him like some arboreal rodent, deftly stepping onto the flat of his sword and then scrambling up his metal chest.

The indignity of it left him sputtering with rage.

"You sure you don't wanna add 'Sith Lord' to that title? Cause you already monologue like it!"

Truly this gnat buzzing about his head was the most irritating creature he'd ever had the misfortune to come across... a determination he could easily make less than thirty seconds into their encounter. But past the annoyance was a genuinely dangerous foe, one he could not afford to underestimate; she was a Jedi, and he had learned long ago that every Jedi had a different arsenal of potent magical tricks. Most were skilled warriors, too, even given their reliance on the crutch of sorcery... and this one's dual attack proved she was no exception.

From one side, a third metal limb streaked in toward his face, one of the few parts of his body with any organic flesh left. From the other, her golden laser-sword swung in, aimed at his chassis - right about where his ribs would have been, if he'd still had any. A less-experienced fighter might have frozen, struggling to react to both attacks at once, but not the Warlord of the Scar Hounds. His solution was elegant in its simplicity. He let go of his huge sword, leaving Yula no footing... and perhaps pulling her back down to earth with its tremendous weight.

Two of her limbs were holding onto it, after all.

Though he had fought Jedi for years now, The Mongrel still had no easy solution to the problem of lightsabers. He had found nothing truly immune to the powerful blades, only resistant, and that was what he was forced to rely upon. As he dropped his sword, the warlord also turned his body, moving much faster than one would expect given his hulking mechanical body. He also twisted much further than ought to have been physically possible, his waist literally turning ninety degrees atop his mechanical legs. It would have broken an organic's spine.

But he had no spine anymore... except a figurative one, of course. Anyone who called the warlord spineless would soon also be spineless, and in a very messy fashion.

The lightsaber still connected, but his swift rotation had turned the impact into a glancing blow. Yula's golden blade met resistance as it struck his chassis, slowed but not stopped by the thin cortosis film over the thick durasteel plating, and then cut cleanly through, spattering the nearest wall with a spray of molten metal. The cut left behind was about three inches deep, wide, and tall, its edges ragged and glowing orange. It was not enough to greatly slow The Mongrel, but it certainly showed that he could bleed. Again, figuratively.

"I think not," the warlord growled, quickly twisting his body back into forward-facing position. "I have no need of your magic, a coward's tool." He raised his left arm and clenched his fist, causing a strange-looking launcher of some kind to rise out of it. The Mongrel had learned long ago that blasters and slugthrowers alike were of limited use against Jedi, who could deflect or melt their projectiles - or simply stop them cold with the power of their minds. For years he had tested out other types of weapon, looking for effective Jedi-killing tools.

This one was one of his current favorites.

The nozzle that had emerged from his forearm was connected by a flexible internal hose to a reservoir in his shoulder... one that contained the swift-drying adhesive foam from a glop grenade. When he extended his arm fully, the weapon triggered, spraying ten cubic meters' worth of extremely sticky resin over the alleyway in front of him. Though the stuff resembled nothing so much as the layer of bubbles atop a bubble bath, it took only seconds to dry into a chalky white substance... a substance as rigid and hard as a layer of duracrete.

It'd crumble in five minutes, becoming too brittle to hold even a child as its chemical components gradually decayed with exposure to the air... but that was a long time in a fight, when the difference between life and death was measured in seconds. If The Mongrel could immobilize Yula with the foam, he could kill her at his leisure. Of course, he had no idea how well it would actually work; he hadn't used it against a live Jedi yet, though it had saved him from breaking his neck in a speeder crash on Coruscant. "Now," he rumbled, "hold still while I kill you."

It would be cathartic to break her with one hand.

-----------------------------
​

Meanwhile, the wider battle still raged. Though the orbital strike had been less effective than the Mawites had hoped at actually killing the Jedi in the Holy Quarter, with their incredible magic somehow forming a barrier and saving them from the fury of the turbolaser barrage, it had forced them to keep their heads down for a moment... and had leveled some of the barricades and their defenders around the edges of Tythoni Plaza. There would be no more orbital support coming, however, not with the 6th Fleet's arrival over Jedha.

The battle now hung in the balance, both sides exhausted by the brutal fighting. Though the defenders were weakened after the barrage, their foes weren't much better off. The Mawite marauders had been whittled down by the brutal artillery shelling, and enemy champions for which they had no answer still moved among their ranks, killing at will. It was clearly true that a warrior of the Brotherhood was a match for any ordinary soldier in the galaxy, making up for their foes' advantages in discipline and equipment through sheer fanatical savagery...

... but what could they do against the likes of Jax Thio or Westenra Mina ? Enemy champions such as these roamed the streets of New Jedha City, slaughtering entire Mawite detachments without taking so much as a scratch. Though the warriors went fearlessly to their martyrdom, knowing that they would find their way to their final reward in the Galaxy To Come, they could hardly even slow down such foes, let alone stop them. No matter how many masses of marauders they waded through, these demigods never seemed to get worn down.

That was why the Brotherhood had to take Tythoni Plaza, and take it now. They had to push their way through the remaining defenses and concentrate their strength, regaining a fighting chance against the Force-mages whose power allowed them to so easily dominate the galaxy. They had to keep as many Jedi as they could from completing their evacuation and slipping away, or the same scenes would play out on future battlefields, swords and lightsabers ripping through line after line of battle-hardened soldiers across dozens of worlds.

With The Mongrel... indisposed, it fell to his Second to keep the assault moving. "Mercy," the marauder lieutenant transmitted, overhearing the message intended for his warlord, "this is Callym of the Scar Hounds. The Mongrel faces a Jedi, and cannot respond. I am dispatching a unit of Scav Kings to your position. Their heavy weapons will aid you in clearing the rooftop defenses." Scav Kings were the elite of the Scar Hounds, their most veteran warriors, each one wearing a customized battleframe of powered armor and weapons.

Three of them would be at Mercy's command.

The rest of the Scar Hounds pushed forward, still trying to tighten a noose that had sprung too many holes, and to make up for that by sheer momentum. But the Jedi had already begun to withdraw from the position they had hoped to overrun, the GADF following Bernard of Arca 's desperate command. "No!" Callym bellowed, when he saw what was beginning to transpire. "Scar Hounds, forward! Don't let them escape, or this will all have been for nothing!" Howling as one, the horde rushed the remaining barricades, firing wildly as they went...

 

[Romi Jade]

Location | Dogma Cantina, New Jedha Outskirts
Aliies | Yula Perl
Enemies | Darth Mori | The Mongrel

​

"Kark-" She dug her canine into her bottom lip, "I've got nothin-" Stray thoughts. Then, she froze. Something mild and distant suddenly set off her danger sense; a chill rode the curve of her spine. There was a massive shift in the air, something to be sensed by those attuned. She lowered her hand; her eyes crept over and interlocked with her sister'. The subtle give in her eyebrow as it rose spoke to curiosity...but she was mostly seeing if Yula was also catching her drift...

​

"She's cheating!"

"Alright!" She popped to her feet, simultaneously waving arms with Emily. "Just calm down--Yula..." Then she shot wide eyes at Yula as if to apply a level of urgency to their situation. She was yanked and fell into a frantic sprint behind the Zeltron, but hit a pivot and ran back "One sec-" she swiped her drink and downed the rest while holding back angry patrons with a single finger; she beckoned them to wait.

Urp!

"Continue please." she floated back inline with her sister, brushing off looks of confusion "What? I hate wasting credits..."

A beat.

"Next time I gotta…lose more…"

"...we might wanna....split up?"

"Yeah...I should check by the Temple, see if they need any help." Her head whipped around, scanning several back streets, and then back, "Let's keep an open line..." she started to pace backwards, "Yula...stay safe, please." she fell into an open stride in the opposite direction. She hit a corner, and curved at the waist to cut it. Several more steps in she vaulted from high steps to the next square below. She was following the silhouette of the temple, racing down whatever blocks she thought would put her closer, while partially using the crowds running towards her to gauge where most of the fighting was coming from.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

Affiliation: Brotherhood of the Maw
Engaging: Gorthalon
Whispering Swarm
Ship: Wandering Pilgrim​

The Wandering Pilgrim darted beneath the clouds, coming to a halt above the city's borders. It hung in the sky silently, seemingly inactive as its sleek body dwelt motionless above the slaughter below. Inside, Darth Tennacus had meditated while the droid piloted the vessel. He reached out to the surface as a shadow passing on black winds, scouring the battlefield for any desecration that would serve to the benefit of their order. Pain, suffering, anger and grief stirred across the grounds, all of which the Sith Lord could use to vitalise his connection to the dark side and saturate his power. There were a few ways that he intended to descend and engage in battle: the first was to wait for a group of Jedi. However, he felt nothing of any worthy candidate within its vicinity. Stretching his consciousness out further, he moved his focus onto the mere troopers that served to oppose their cause. The second intention he had was to bring their fallen brothers in arms under his control, allowing him to create a network of undead soldiers subjugated to Sith Sorcery that could kill those they once stood with, only to bring them into the ranks of the dark side. But the enemy were too few and far between; it would not only be a mental strain, but it would be pointless. One grenade was enough to level a band, and one well-targeted projectile was enough to strike his ship and break his concentration.

But then he felt something.

Through the guise of a wraith, the Sith Lord could see a beast rising up near the borders. Tennacus scanned the enemy from afar, moving through the smoke and debris to better conceal his shadowy shape, allowing him to focus on the creature beyond sight. He felt no immediate association to the Force, but any skilled Jedi could mask their presence if needed be, just as the Sith could. He thought the creature to be some wicked mutt sent out without a leash to slay its enemies, but it carried about it something deeper than mindless slaughter. Sentience was blatant in its movements, drawing on Tennacus' interest further. It knew to watch from above and contemplate its actions before lunging down into the unknown; much like him, it was being observant. Smart.

Sometimes it is better to pit a beast against a beast. There was still one last act Tennacus had thought of employing. A final deployment should everything else cease to shape. It was there with him, shackled within the cargo bay of his ship, screaming and lashing in its gargantuan, chitinous black form. Did Tennacus really want to deploy it? Once he did, there was likely no going back. Already was it enraged, pained and fuelled by such a wicked hatred, brought on by barbaric methods of torture and suffering, cocktailed with psychological trauma through ancient Sith sorcery.

Tennacus opened his eyes and leaned towards the pad in the cockpit, tapping against the screen to open the cargo bay doors. Another application of taps dropped the shackles from the beast, and the ship turned to force it out of the vessel, sending it tumbling through the sky.

Its great, beastly form descended towards the surface tens of metres before Gorthalon , casting up a dense veil of dust which temporarily obscured its form. Its shape could eventually be seen moving through the settling cloud, climbing seven meters above the surface to stand upright. A heaving tail carried itself behind the creature, slamming heavily against the ground to make it tremor. When the dust finally settled, the terrifying guise of a chitinous Xenomorph Queen stood erected in the midst of the battle, menacing teeth exposed behind a pair of curled lips that let out a deafening cry of rage. Stripped away from its egg sac, it was despaired by its inability to produce offspring, and saw only the menial soldiers scattered around it as pests it had believed to bring about its torment. Unbeknown to its manipulation through Sith Sorcery, it sought vengeance against an enemy it had never seen, swinging its body wildly in flailed attacks of its tail and armoured head plate, willing to kill everything and anything which stood before it.

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
KILL Creuat
DEFEND World Devastator


PEACE IS A LIE​

The non-human Jedi dodged to the right, avoiding the opening salvo to their soon to spark clashing of blades. The World Devastator beneath their feet roared with deafening thunder, it’s mighty maw devoured without distinction or hesitation. The valley crumbled around them, dust whirling about like a tempest of sand.

As the Sith caught his footing and rose he felt the vessel rumble, it attempted to slake off the exterior ‘passengers’ and both men would have to fight to keep balance or less be thrown to the depths of the ruined valley. The Jedi shed his robes into the powerful wind, the Sith Assassin followed suit letting his long hooded black overcloak be carried off by a sudden gust.

“You will find…”

Letifer tilted his head in anticipation, beginning a stalking circle as he attempted to maintain his balance amidst the ship surface while pacing, waiting for a chance to act.

“…my strength…”

His opponent outstretched his hand and brandished his saber openly.

“…equal to yours.”

An emerald beam hissed forth, a sight that made the Sith Assassin grit his teeth in contempt. His opponent readied for an offensive approach, getting right into the fray with a sudden horizontal slash meant to strike at his head. The Sith lunged his weapon to intercept, recoiling off the blade of his opponent with savage recourse.

“We’ll see.”

His opponent followed up with a sudden surprise slash across the chest, one narrowly avoided by the skin of his teeth as black pieces of robe scorched off into the air. Backpedaling, the Sith growled under his breath and dove face first to regain the momentum with a brutal lunge of his own. Aiming to catch his opponent off guard he spun around and delivered a flourish attempting to crack through his guard.

“All I see is another dead Jedi. You just don’t know it yet.”

 

[Halketh]

A LOST CAUSE
DARK LORD OF THE SITH
DARTH CAELITUS
The Aegis of Woe | Ace | Lightsaber
The Perished | 326/330
JEDHAMOUR TEARS - SIA BLACKSITE
Valery Noble | Taiia Locke | Ripley Kühn

​

The Dark Lord lagged behind, his clutches on the reins of his soldiers limited only by the mental grasp he exerted. Red mist swelled in the darkened air, rising as the riot began, the unmerciful thunder of The Perished's scatterguns bellowing out of the entryway- the trumpets of the apocalypse, the maw of hell yawning open to unleash its nightmare upon the world. The nephilim pressed onward, marching ominously through the ebb and flow of his forces, clawed gauntlets swaying neatly by his sides. Though the electrum-plated hilt of his lightsaber glinted from the rest against his hip, his saber slumbered in silence, unperturbed by the chaos. He doubted he would need it, judging by the engagements with the Jedi previous, where most of them did naught but flee in the face of peril.

These were not the Jedi of his age.

These were not the Jedi he had nearly become.

These were petulant children, all of them, unified only in their disarray, and complacent in their vaunted roosts upon gilded thrones. The New Jedi Order was little more than the golden goose for the Galactic Alliance, their supposed backbone, though as someone who had once fought as an ally with the GA, he knew better than that. It was never the self-proclaimed saviors who were the spines of change, it was always the silent, faceless soldiers who were gutted and left to bleed out in the trenches. On the streets. Whose transports never arrived to the surface. Whose squads were abandoned and left to die. Whose leadership had failed them. These were his soldiers, those who had been forgotten, neglected, and ignored. Those whose leadership had spurned them, cast them aside and seen them as nothing more than the ranks and numbers upon their armors.

His blackened clutches had plucked them from Styx, nursing them with his malice, and provided them the only thing they wanted now that they had been betrayed; revenge. His vile lips had promised them a world without their former slavedrivers. His words had stirred their dead hearts, his breath had filled their lungs, and now, their wrath fueled his hatred. They were an unbreakable pair, the Divine and his Perished, two cogs in a greater machine that turned with the same cadence to wreak nothing but destruction wherever it was their plagued path took them. Their slaughter freed the vital essence he feasted upon from its hidden places in between mortal thought and coil, and as his strength grew, so too did theirs.

Caelitus' shade darkened the doorway, his ebon Presence expanding into the sanctuary to taint the very air. It would nag, clawing, its jaws gnashing and tearing at the resolve of the many, though his plaguedogs were few. With little on his mind beyond the invocation of fear, his malaise unchained itself from his psychosis and resonated in the air. Each breath of the living in the chamber would be costly. Dread seeped from his pores, illness his breath, and madness from his words.

The swarm of unfaltering undead cleaved through the defenders, forgoing their individual slugthrowers as soon as they reached melee range of the individual guardians, and it was unholy strength enhanced by the armor of their respective faction that saw them tear limbs from their sockets. Blood rained, splattering wide in the churning tide, the sea of monsters stoked into a blood-curdling howl by the shower. New Imperial stormtroopers, Sith Imperial troopers, Galactic Alliance Commandos, Mawites, and even Mandalorians rioted in his graven masses, his army uniting those who would have slain one another in life under a singular banner in death; a macabre unification of the galaxy orchestrated by an irredeemable soul. Bullets shredded through their bodies, gaping wounds espousing rotten ichor freely, yet they did not slow down. Freed from pain and fear, his soldiers were relentless wolves, their sole desire to enact the will of their blind Prophet.

Those that fell were stepped over, their corpses returned to the earth, the stowed power tethering their twisted souls to their husks returned to the source. The Vulture, the New Imperials had coined him- a carrion bird who feasted upon the dead. The Dark Lord's Sight expanded beyond him, the throes of The Force painting brushstrokes in crimson tithe to unveil the interior of the site to his scrutiny. His eyeless vision focused on a twinkling star in the lonesome sea, a flashing beacon of hope. A comet streaked from the heavens, a piercing light trailing dreams in its wake, righteous fury at its tip. One of the miraluka's hands lofted, a slow swept arc cast upward from his position of idle, timed by the invisible ties that bind, and the armored flank of his hand batted the arrow aside- deflecting it unto the deconsecrated ground by his side.

Slowly, did his gothic visage twist to cast its vestigial gaze in the direction the avatar of hope had sent her lance. Allyson Locke . He had worked alongside of her once, perhaps twice, though much like his dealings with other allies, he had never spoken to her. His solitude had ushered in a new age, one cast beneath the insidious shadows of his sun-scorched wings. Hidden beneath his helmet, his scarred lips parted in possessed tandem, casting his words from the throats of the damned in his company. Their words echoed in a thunderous choir, rasped and strained by the effort to make what had been undone, yet still, they cast high into the chamber, resounding in a unified knell: "We are the beginning of the end...the shadows which blot out the sun...the bells which toll your doom... For this moment alone were we made. Look upon your death and despair!"

The Dark Lord lashed outward, his hands attempting to coil their ephemeral clutches around Allyson's frame outright, he would seek to tear her from her safety and plunge her into the heart of his swarm.

// Allyson Locke \\
​

 

[Vesta]

Villains, Pt. 1​

Location: New Jedha City
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: Galactic Alliance | Romi Jade
Equipment: Faithless, Red Lightsaber
Objective: Feast

Looking at the fearful faces, hearing the screams and the shrieks, feeling the heat of fire spread as buildings burst and explosions coalesced across the sides of streets to corral throngs of fleeing people, she couldn't help but wonder if the planet's defenders actually held any hope for their people's survival. From where she had fell, after all, they looked like little more than insects and even landing, the tips of her feet pressing firmly into the ground as she leaned forwards to direct her momentum forwards in an effort to minimize the shock that ran up her spine from the impact, they scattered like ants. As with the rest of the people inhabiting the worlds they had taken or destroyed, the people here were providing little of worth to the stars - like their Jedi protectors and presumptuous Alliance they relied on something as fragile as social contract.

And, like paper held to fire, their metaphorical contract burned with the arrival of the Maw.

Like ants they, too, expired with her arrival.

"..Hrrk!"​

There was little more that was as satisfying as hearing the gurgling of one's voice in their throats as they were ripped from their mortal coil, their very souls drained from their bodies as she pulled, but the sprinting Jedi that ran towards her, towards the Temple, was one such exception - and the very reason she'd decided to gorge herself so soon upon landing. Romi Jade had been there, on Jakku, when she'd forced her way into the woman's enclave, even if she had arrived far too late to prevent the Sith from reaching the object of her desires there. Now, on Jedha, the woman would be presented with a much different opportunity - as Darth Mori rose from the ground bodies fell, the dark miasma that spread from her sapping the lives from anyone who got too close, but the Jedi Temple behind her was gradually being forced into by the Sith she'd traveled to the planet with. Two choices, no right answer - what would she do?

Save the innocent civilians that tried to escape slaughter only to run into a monster that devoured them whole, or abandon the very people who the Jedi swore they were meant to protect in order to help her friends evade annihilation from the charge Darth Solipsis led at the temple gates? One could argue that by aiding the Jedi they could save more lives, but it would still be at the cost of countless others - a price. That, however, was the sorts of ends which justify the means that Sith engaged in, not Jedi, or so they claimed. By the time the Sith was at her full height, however, Vesta was already using the forward momentum that her rolling landing had generated to lift herself into a run that quickly became a sprint with her sword held out, down, and away from her.

It was obvious her intent - to cut the Jedi down - but that was only on its face, the true nature of the brazen assault was to force the Jedi to consciously weigh the consequences of what her decision might be, all without the grace of speaking, before choosing. If more died and she absconded to the Temple, avoiding the Sith, then the deaths of the innocent would be blood on her hands - if she stayed and fought then she'd either be trusting fully in her friends or else sacrificing them to protect the people of New Jedha.

And if she waited too long the Sith would make her decision for her.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

BE LUMINOUS
JEDHA | JEDI MONASTERY
A DARK SHADOW NEEDS LIGHT TO EXIST
BUT LIGHT DOESN'T NEED DARKNESS TO BE LUMINOUS

As above, so below. The ground and skies shook with attacks from machines that could end life in an instant. Jedha ached, the stress stretching almost palpably through the canyon sides and the base of the monastery. Machines from The Maw and the Galactic Alliance chewing through the existence of life, and Ishida could feel the reverberations travel through The Force.

This planet, sacred to the Jedi, was in agony. And the commander lead of Vos had the gull to consider retreating. Abandoning the history and world here to become another statistic in the Galactic Alliance’s — She felt a flare of danger spike above the conflict building in her blood. And in the next second, before she could pivot to face it, she felt the flare simmer and snuff out entirely. Credited to the commander.

Part of whatever had been swelling behind her ribs, resentment, flared out with indignation. Her mouth opened to argue with him, that he’d already chosen to leave her out here abandoned, this didn’t make up for Coruscant, this was not his call to make, this was not his planet, his Order’s history, her life, and any other Jedi’s life was not up to hi––

There is no shame in succor,

Wisdom from her late brother floated into her mind, settling over the compartment that was responsible for thinking before speaking, and she clicked her teeth shut. She drew in a breath and centred herself. As she inhaled, the medley of resentment and indignation in her core slipped a little to make room for a modicum of appreciation.

She was not centred. There was too much hurt, pain, frustration, indignance, within. Of course she missed the Force’s warning that danger was approaching, she was too overwhelmed by the fluidity of revenge. Each cut, strike, slash, jab had been recompense for an unpayable debt.

“We’ve got company,”
“We need to move, NOW!”

It wasn’t until she followed the direction of his point that Ishida realized she’d been looking a little too long at the faceplate of the commander. Using the faceless lines of the soldier’s armour to negotiate her inner turmoil. The armour was faceless, a uniform to seem fearsome, but it concealed the truth beneath. The human expression that, when she took precious milliseconds to search, would have communicated stress.

At the end of Commander Chaar’s finger was a foreboding image. A bloodstained giant drenched in evil. Spatters of plasma danced against his skin and armour, unable to penetrate. Clearly battle-hardened, he didn’t even flinch at the attempts to maim and kill that bounced harmlessly from his physique. He was as unholy as he was stunning. His focus was burning, and she felt the intensity behind his intention before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"JEDI!"

There were throes of soldiers for him to conquer, but that look, that challenge – there was something there that she realized she knew quite well. Terrible purpose. Her grip tightened against the padding of her sabre’s hilt.

The adrenaline pumping through her veins only seemed to make her heart beat faster, without speeding her up. She just stood there, between two choices.

They could run, fall back, take cover, whatever way Chaar chose to deliver the command the outcome would be the same. Pursuit, casualties. More soldier’s dying at the expense of a challenge made for her, for a Jedi. And overhead, the skies were blackening with ships that would rain down far more fire than she could hope to deflect.

Coruscant’s attack, all the deception within the Senate, had been to turn the Alliance’s influencers against the Jedi. Everything the Maw did, their New Sith Order, was to destroy the Jedi. They’d mutated what it had meant to be an Alliance, deconstructed the unity to accomplish their means to an end.

And despite that, non-Force users, regular soldiers, still rose to the defence of the Jedi because at one time, when there hadn’t been evil magics at play, they’d made an Alliance. They were an Alliance. And there was a beauty to be had in their regeneration, and somehow all of them tacitly agree that, whatever their disagreements might be, they were united against the oppression of freedom, light, peace. What brought them together was their resilience to the evils that threatened to tear the galaxy apart.

The Brotherhood of the Maw had killed her brother, and they’d poisoned the harmony of the Alliance he had fought for.

But hesitation was defeat. There was, in the end, only one choice for her to make.
For a Jedi to make.

when in fact it was a victory built upon the corpses of all of the people that we took along with us into an early grave. A lot of good people who were just as able to fight the darkness as we were.”

Ishida felt a click in her heart, the physical sensation of comprehension.

“No." The atrisian argued, adjusting her stance to forward-face the approaching foe. He grew taller and closer by the second. “Not we, Commander.”

She looked back to that faceless helmet, to one of those good people who were able to fight the darkness. While she couldn’t see the man beneath it, she could see her own reflection and felt herself starting to make a sort of poetic connection to the prospect of allegiances again. But she gave a tight nod to break the thought. “You and your men. Go.

I’ll remain, draw their ire and buy you some time to get to safety.” As she spoke, her back foot arced in a semi-circle to ground herself, connect back to Jedha.

No opportunity for rebuttal was offered, and she lunged forward in response to the Devaronian’s challenge. One, two, three fast steps pounded against the dusty surface before she pivoted on the fourth and launched into an upward, sweeping arc to dance in and bait his reaction to test the reflexes of the mountain of a beast.


ALLIES | NJO | GA| Tren Chaar
FOES | BOTM | Laoth

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

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

Objective I: Defile the City
Location: Tythoni Square, New Jedha City, Jakku
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Marlon Sularen | Tegan Starfall
Enemies: Harson Thaddeus | Bernard of Arca | Zark San Tekka | Gorthalon | Zanvic "Ironhide" Dak | Syndulla Command

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

They had luck on the roof here, the bombing did a lot of damage to the area, few things remained intact, but here these buildings did. With the soldiers on it. With the various shots, I saw what his situation was. The dust degrades the image quality, but they were still very usable. Especially if you have someone, that is, something who can improve them.

~ MANIAC, improve the image quality and forward them to our strategists on the Maw network! ~ I ordered him.

For an AI of this level, it wasn't too complicated, so he soon sent the pictures of the square and its surroundings to The Mongrel 's commanders and strategies. Hopefully it will come in handy for them and help our work. If I had the right tools to do that, I took the opportunity. In the meantime, I was still waiting for the Warlord responder, but it was his second-in-command(?) who responded to me.

<< Copy that sir! Afterwards, we will join the ground teams! >> I answered to Callym. Hmm, I like his name!

My next message was already for the three Scav Kings members. I sent two to the opposite side, to the roofs there, I asked for one to join where I was. The fight started downstairs, meaning the soldiers above were also watching the ones below. Good! So even my heavy armoured, new friends arrived easily. True, there were only four of us, but they didn’t expect us. As soon as everyone took up their position, I issued the order.

<< Leave no survivors! >> I said to my three companions.

We opened fire on them at once, they had no chance. By the time they realised that from there and who was shooting at them, three-quarters of the soldiers were dead. There were about one and a half dozen on the two sides, so you didn't have to kill too much. It was still a roof, but so many people were able to wreak havoc from such a place. Grenades also flew after the shots. The whole fight didn't last more than two minutes. It’s hard to defend yourself when you have nowhere to hide and someone faces an elite force. But good for us!

Last, from a distance, we even blew up the two shields. Nothing protected the surrounding buildings anymore. It was time to join the ground teams and support them. I also signalled to my comrades to go to the others. It's time to make a point at the end of the story. I heard the messages on the communication channel so I knew where to go, except they send me to other place.

<< We head to the others to prevent civilians from fleeing, sir! >> I sent a message to Callym.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

CLEANSING FIRE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. II
Issue #6 w/ Darth Solipsis & Zaka

why do we fall​

Not only was his strength far superior but even his speed seemed to outpace his as Solipsis flung Zaka away with the Force and parried the cerulean blade aimed to delimb his legs. Before him stood a tempest of the Dark Side, no, not even that. Glaring through heaving breaths he sees not a creation of Bogan but Bogan itself staring back from the fallen Jedi's sulfuric gaze.

Rage, an immaterial emotion, cracked through the realms of reality like daggers through glass as Solipsis' roar resounded across the crumbling temple. And then the onslaught begins. Each strike harder than the previous as if a God's hammer is pummeling him back. Each parry strains his wrist sending shockwaves of intense pain through his whole body. He reverts to evading and dodging, relying on his speed, but it seems every strike of the crimson blade knows exactly where the Jedi will be. Block after block, he backpedals until his back touches the cold stone of a wall.

Trapped.

He's barely heard what the Dark Lord has uttered, his focus completely fixated on evading death thus crippling his usually exceptional situational awareness. A thousand times he's cheated death, a thousand times he's kept one step ahead even when his father had plagued his psyche but now... his back's against the wall and his wrist is all but broken, shattered like a piece of glass. Life begins to depart his existence as the black-hearted man consumes his essence through the Dark Side, his vision grows blurry as the light at the end of the tunnel begins to fade. The Jedi wants to say a final goodbye, a final farewell, to all he's dreamt, to all he's fought but there's no strength, no life, left to draw from.

This is it.

And then, a faint shimmer turns to a spark turns to fire as the empyrean erupts from Zaka cutting through the life-draining tendrils piercing his soul and Dag catches a glimmer of life, a strength to draw from, and casts a blinding light at the dark figure before him.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: Jedha, Dessicated Tablelands
Tags: Creuat | Lord Letifer | Syndulla Command

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The World Devastators prepare for a potential Alliance Navy attack

As Jedi and Sith clashed atop the World Devastator, light and darkness meeting in a clash of sparks while the all-devouring engine powered ahead, the sides of the canyon flew past them. From dust had Jedha been built, its sandstone mountains carved into the beautiful monuments that now dotted its surface over the course of countless millennia... and to dust it would now return. A horrific screeching filled the canyon as tractor beams locked onto chunks of stone and ripped them free, dragging them along the rocky walls like fingernails across a chalkboard. Everything crumbled. Everything broke down. Everything fed the furnaces of the Maw.

But though the World Devastators continued unopposed for the moment, they might not remain so for long. The Taskmaster was registering new signals arriving in the Jedha System, and Mawite IFF systems were beginning to tag them. It wasn't good news; evidently the Alliance Navy wasn't as tied up as the Mawites had hoped, for the 6th Sector Fleet was now on approach to the besieged planet. All the Brotherhood's schemes to divide and delay their foes, driving a wedge between the NJO and GADF, had only partially succeeded at best... and with their enemies now united once more, their plans for Jedha were in grave danger.

"Prepare for incoming contacts," the Taskmaster commanded, preparing the heavy Mawite fighter screen for the possibility - the likelihood, even - of an Alliance attack from above. The World Devastators had last been deployed on Coruscant, ripping up entire skyscrapers and devouring entire apartment buildings, and it would come as no surprise if the Alliance was hungry for revenge on the machines that had indiscriminately ravaged their capital. The Brotherhood starfighters closed ranks, watching the skies with both eagerness and apprehension. So far this had all been too easy, without the glory of combat.

But here was a chance for blood, to impress the Avatars and earn entry into paradise.

For now, the Taskmaster's World Devastator continued to grind forward unthreatened... save by the Jedi atop it. The duel now unfolding grew even more precarious, for the Devastator was starting to pick up speed, and to make even tighter turns. The desert wind, dry and laden with flesh-scouring sand, whipped across the top of the titanic machine, stinging exposed skin and making it difficult to see... or breathe. Footing became uncertain, each jolt of the mountain-eater threatening to throw the duelists from the top. If they did fall, they would plummet eight hundred meters to splatter against the jagged rocks far below.

Better watch your footing.

 

[Danika Leventis]

ALLIES: BOTM | NEW SITH ORDER | Whoever else is Maw side (I'm lazy)
ENEMIES: GA | NEW JEDI ORDER | Any other Light Side scum
ENGAGING: Aeris Lashiec | Arlo Renard
GEAR:

Spoiler

The Fortuna in orbit
Lightsabers
Phrik blades
Phrik dagger
Dressed to kill
Company from the Legion of Bone among which is the Ash Hellions led by Nathan Graves and a surprise for Aeris

O~~>MILLION LIGHTYEARS<~~O​

"You attacked me." She whimpered. "I tried to keep you alive, I tried to get them to move your corpse but they refused."

An odd sensation tugged at Alex's heart at Aeris' words.

"And of course you just let them." he said softly, yet dangerously as his anger flared. Anger at being left behind. Anger at Aeris attempting to kill him. Anger at failing himself and others.

His lip curled, his blade bathing his face in crimson.

Aeris ignited her own blade finally, making Alex's jaw clench. She even had the audacity to try and use his teachings against him.

"Don't do this." She pleaded. "I already lost you once."

Alex swallowed hard.
"That was your own fault. I should have followed through that night, but couldn't. Not to you. And what did you do? Maimed me and left me for dead." he spat.

"I claim recompense this day."

With that he sprang into action, his cybernetic legs propelling him forward faster than normal. The crimson blade blurred through the air as it aimed a slice upward from below, only to change direction into a horizontal slice for her neck at the last second.

The hurt in his heart driving his movements.

<Dagon Kaze tried to save you, and you want to kill him for it!>

A cynical laugh escaped Danika's lips at his words.

<He didn't tell you the whole truth, did he?> she chuckled. "I'm the one who saved him from certain death. Not the other way around. Believe it or not, but I don't want that fool dead." she said aloud, the indignation that the truth was being hidden like that, unseating her slightly from her mental high horse.

Was she truly being made out such a monster?

The whirlwind slowed into a mere breeze around her.

<He still thinks you can be redeemed. Dagon saved me—I can do the same for you, if you'd let me. There's a place for people like us. A safe place, away from the rest of the galaxy, where people take care of each other...>

Danika closed her eyes momentarily. The similarities between this battle and the one on Korriban were too many.
<My dear boy.> she sighed, opening her eyes to look at Kai once more. <If it was as simple as merely walking away from all of this, all I have done, I would have taken Dagon Kaze up on his offer when he had made it. But it's not. I have promises to keep first.>

The building groaned, just as the tombs had done on Korriban when Darth Solipsis had torn the veil and emerged in all his Dark wonder.

The amethyst blade still hummed in her hand as her slightly more dull teal gaze remained on the Padawan. <I have people relying on me, young Padawan. Oaths I made to powers well beyond your comprehension in order to keep those people safe. You nearly took that from me.> she added calmly.

Close to them, Alex lunged forward to clash with Aeris. She wondered how it would turn out. In her own eyes, death would be too kind to the librarian. Danika had achieved what she wanted to by bringing Aeris' blast from the past here. Anything more and the Herald herself would intervene.

If only to delay laying another brick on her road to damnation.

 

[Arlo Renard]

Objective I: Defend the City
Location: Archives, Temple of the Kyber
Tags: Danika Leventis Aeris Lashiec

<I mean save you from the Dark Side,> Kai clarified. The pieces of the puzzle were rearranging themselves; he understood it better now.

He clung to that thought as he heard the sounds of battle from the direction of Aeris and Mortimer. I’m not afraid, he told himself. Though it was most certainly a lie, the lie would help him overcome this.

Danika had not raised a hand against him since Mortimer revealed himself. Until she did something, Kai couldn’t justify attacking her—even though some part of him wanted to. She spoke of oaths she had made to powers beyond his comprehension, but even that sounded like a ludicrous excuse for her actions. His eyes narrowed. <Who are you keeping safe by coming to a battlefield and attacking people who have done nothing to you? That doesn’t make any sense!>

If she was here to settle the score over his feeding on her general, then let her strike him. He was waiting.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Within the Temple of Kyber
Objective: Destroy all around
Allies: Darth Solipsis Danika Leventis
Enemies: Caltin Vanagor (Directly facing) Zark San Tekka Dagon Kaze Zaka Arlo Renard Aeris Lashiec
Equipment: Kyrel's Armor, Kyrel's Necrochasis, Vader's Bane Lightsaber

The screams did not cease as the ritual only grew stronger, no one had attempted such power before while it was common practice for a dark sider to pour so much emotion into the crystals it was done with only one Kyber Crystal. Never so many all at once before, with the intention not being to harvest them but to use the bleeding process against the Temple. The screams continued to go on endlessly as the crystals were slowly turned, Kyrel pouring all of his hatred, his rage, even his despair and all the memories of a lifetime, the worst of it all poured into the crystals very essence.

The Jedi man before him didn't cease to silence in the slightest, goading Kyrel into an open confrontation, even for a barbarian such as him he would not be swayed so easily. Watching as the man attempted to stop his ritual in some way, as some light moved in a futile attempt to stop him. The man even going as far as to bring his own weapon to use against Kyrel. The Master of Ren only gave the man a half closed icy stare. The man thought that he would win, no he would only taste ashes and he must have known that to some degree. The room only continued to grow darker until there was nothing but crimson that bathed all around him, the screams had now turned into ear piercing howls it was quickly starting to grow worse.

Immersed in the dark hell he seemed to create in the midst of the temple, his head looked above him, his grip slowly closed into fists and his eyes fully closed. The dead man cloaked in the pain the tiny life forms within the crystals felt as his mind flashed with every horrible, painful memory shooting into the crystals tenfold. The shaking and the rumbling only continued to persist, as while the man's attempts to draw him into open combat would not come to pass so easily as he might have once thought before. With his eyes fully closed within the trance, the walls of the temple started to crack, where sections were now starting to cave in due to the sheer darkness pouring out.

His hands slowly raised, as if he carried the ceiling, his eyes finally opened both eyes colored a burning yellow. Kyrel had now gone over the edge looking at the Jedi man before him through the crimson haze around them. "True strength lies in the dead... Let me show you..." With those words, his hands turned fists lowered as if a rock crashing down and with the motion the ceiling started falling down. The shaking kept as if an earthquake was brought on from within by the power of one walking corpse driven by endless rage.

The walls burst, chunks from the ceiling above only grew above, as the now bled kyber crystals let out a harrowing cry in the form of a red beam of light that shot to the sky, around it creating a dark cloud blanketing the temple serving as a bad omen along with the screams of the crystals while the statues of ancient Jedi started to topple over. Unknown to Kyrel that an old enemy of the past would soon make his way to the temple and find the hell that was being created by the desecration of the temple.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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O P E R A T I O N_S T O R M F R O N T

FINAL DAWN
JEDHA , MID RIM

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So far , the Battle seemed to be going in the favor of the Brotherhood of the Maw. With the TIE Striker Airstrike along with the Orbital Bombardment , Sularen was certain that both the NJO and GADF were nearing collapse and that victory would soon be theirs. The only thing standing in their Way , Sularen thought would be the Jedi who would resist to the Maw's attack relentlessly. However Sularen's priority now was to deal with Jax Thio , the Jedi who he had helped at Ziost against the Sith Empire a few years back. As the Predator bombarded the Tythoni Plaza , Sularen continued his barrage against Thio pinning him down and eventually overwhelming him to the point where he had to roll out of the way to avoid getting cut to pieces suffering a hit in the shoulder and a minor hit at his Neck. As Sularen reloaded his Anti-Personnel Turret , Thio threw yet another barrage to the HAAV which again caught Sularen off-guard although he quickly latched onto the handles of the HAAV to avoid falling out of the Assault Vehicle.

However something wasn't right. Even though the HAAV hadn't suffered any major damage , it was a bit unstable showing some trouble in maintain it's position above the buildings and slowly descending before managing to stabilize itself. "What's going on" Sularen shouted to the Pilot a bit confused as with what was going on with the HAAV. "Sir , we're losing power. If the Jedi hits us again , we won't be able to stay in the sky any longer" the Pilot cried back.. At this point Sularen was a bit annoyed at Jax's persistence and his inability to kill him so eventually he decided to find more direct means of dealing with him. "Bring us near that building. The one Jax is standing on." The Pilot tried to insist , but a single look from Sularen convinced him that arguing with the Grand Overseer was pointless and that he would get his way one way or another. Thus the Pilot complied bringing the HAAV near the Building in which Jax Thio stood upon at a distance where Sularen and the RaptorCommandos onboard his HAAV could safely jump on top of the building.

The Ten Elite Raptor SuperCommandos , which were hidden far inside the HAAV beyond the view of Jax soon emerged and as per Sularen's orders they soon jumped onto the Building which Jax stood upon followed by Marlon Sularen himself. As they approached the Jedi Master with the SuperCommandos taking out all sorts of weaponry including their Retractable Kamikiri Blades attached to their CyberArms both capable of resisting Lightsaber Strikes ready to confront the Jedi , but Sularen wasn't did not want to fight , atleast not yet. He was here to talk. "So Jax Thio. We met atleast. It's a pleasure meeting you alright. A shame it had to happen while we find ourselves on opposite sides" Sularen said with a cold and emotionless tone. "But i do wonder. Why fight for a Nation that was easily manipulated into turning against the New Jedi Order , serving a Fragile Senate plagued by corruption and ineffectiveness , fighting side by side with a Nation led by Liars. Cheaters. Usurpers. We've beaten you at every battle , yet you continue to fight. You continue to fight for a Failed Nation , one that has purposely isolated itself by betraying the Jedi and losing the trust of the New Imperials."

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Tag | Jax Thio ​

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[Laoth]

Equipment: Sword of the Tenth | The Panoply
Tags: Ishida Ashina | Tren Chaar
Location: JEDHA - En Route to JEDI MONASTERY
Theme: Cometh the Hour​

---

Will she fight? he wonders with each encroaching step towards the luminous woman. It is a logical question for the illogical man, one posed with the surest of reasons. In his time - the time that he can actively remember that is - he was unopposed by many. For many of his years as a Baron, his "foes" would choose to avoid direct conflict with him. To fill such a vacuum of contests, they would instead choose to strike from the shadows or be faced with a hunt by the very man they hoped to avoid. Some would not strike at all and be forgotten over time. Even the others who were like him went without proper war, and those they killed would only serve to add more coats of ichorous paint to their bodies. Jedi, Mandalorians, Sith, even the Devaronian kin who had formed up to oppose him and his...generations of cowards and weaklings the lot of them, he had decided. He wonders now if the current stock of meat for the grinder of combat would be better bred. Would they too be lambs and piglets, or rams and boars? Calves or bulls?

"Jedi!" he shouts once again, not twenty steps away from this hopeful foe. His voice is a crack of devil's thunder against the dying afternoon light, a challenge to Jedha's history itself. Come fight me, damn you! he screams internally to the fading world. The world screams back with racing and deadly starfighters and numerous bombing runs both near and far. It screams a demand of its own: die and be forgotten, ye man out of time. The tenor of this demand is a ruby streak of lightning racing across the smog-infested sky that rains shrapnel and bodies.

The steps of his gargantuan feet slow as the woman and the world discern him; works through the options before her. Steps that become earthquakes shuddering through the sand beneath him, accompanied by the display of fire and plasma bursting alight the desert and perceived grass into ruin. Real and imagined, all around him the planet burns. Burning like a ring of fire, hell-sent.

His blade falls from his shoulder to allow a hooked edge to carve through the earth, his right hand gripping the hilt lazily. A moat in the sand is made. Jagged and deep does the scar go. So deep as to gouge through buried machinery, sparking to light a few embers in the raging inferno of the Alliance and Maw. In moments, that moat and those gouges will fill with the death of dozens by his hand or hers. "Fight me!" he demands again - orders, really, with a hint of desperation. A voice of a war demon starved of combat.

For that singular second, mere feet away from this woman, he could have appeared to be standing as high as a star destroyer to those drawn to his ire concerning the battle. A horned titan. He is anything but a titan. He calls himself Death, raised by God. A holy warrior of darkness. But he is not that. He is a man, a dullard made powerful by his own genius and misguidedness, and a feeble-minded youth with the power of the gods.

She would not be wrong to not fight him. He would either be a misuse of effort, or her untimely death. Either was a loss. But she chooses the fight, all the same, and agrees to meet him in that combat that he so salivates for. In a flash of action, she sends away the soldier who had stood near her - or demands that he move away. Laoth cares not what she says to him, for he too would die by day's passing. But, his death now would be quite timely for the fight. A hit, perhaps, to the woman's stability. An unconscious demand to the beasts sends them scurrying after the soldier regardless if he moves or not. He would not escape the conflict so easily. Perhaps live longer than if he faced the oaf, but...die all the same.

But then, she charges. One step, two steps, three steps, and a lunge finished with a swing of her scorching blade.

It is quick. A white shooting star that emits the burning of the Light in such an arc that the only response the horned man can give to defend himself is to try to hook his feet into the sand, turn, and slightly bend down so that the blade would clash against his pauldron. He barely completes this in time, the last inch of his subconscious barrier failing at the moment of contact. The argent blade checks against the pauldron. Sand kicks up into the air from his blade carving through the desert and the motions of both combatants' feet. A smirk, crooked and fanged, breaks across his face.

He exhales a rough burst of air - hot and scented with iron - and quickly glances at the mark of contact with his ice-blue eyes. Norris Root, a wholly protective material of lightsaber resistance, sparking against the argent blade. The saving grace of he who fights with no training in such weapons. But her? Such quickness does the Jedi possess, and skill if her onslaught upon the mindless beasts and rotted soldiers of the Maw is any indication. But will she be able to maintain it when the horned man rebuttals her attack with his own? Would speed and skill match the untamed furious might of the giant?

Let us find out.

Laoth shoves back against the blade that sparks on his protective armor, a grunt of indignation escaping his pale lips. At the same moment - if the woman is successfully pushed away by his effort - the horned man will perform a similar attack as his foe. A horrible single-handed upward arc of his blade, the impervium edges screeching through the air in poltergeist fashion, aimed for her hip.

 

[Romi Jade]

Location | Dogma Cantina, New Jedha Outskirts
Aliies | Yula Perl
Enemies | Darth Mori

​

She curved at the spine, pulling her upper frame back while shortening her stride. Where momentum carried her a couple more steps, she dug the ball of her leading foot into the ground and forced a complete stop. Her face screwed up at the thumping of bodies falling in her path, and out she rose...

Romi lurched back as the sickness in her stomach settled -- she could feel the void of life around them growing.

She bit down - the tension showed throughout her facial features. Her eyes shot from one end to the next moving through the bodies that went from scurrying in fear right into collapsing lifeless. The debris around her rustled in silent power. She could feel the dark energy intensifying, infusing itself into everything around her.

She was gorging herself...

"What the hell..." her mind was verbalizing where she couldn't.

You're damned if you do, and damned if you don't -- but her allegiance was always to civilization first.

She witnessed the charge for her. She stood still for the moment she had, not even a few minutes...

She shut her eyes for a very brief moment - envisioning the outcome she wanted and wiping her slate clean of any presuppositions.

The emptiness mode—by not acting on or reacting, but simply watching things transpire as a series of events, in and of themselves—you'll see that it's empty of anything truly. Awareness of death helps free the mind from delusion so that you can not only bring to an end the entire round of suffering, but also eradicate even the subtle errors of mind.

Our life, our self, friends, and all other people change minute by minute. Because they are under the control of causes and conditions, they are in a state of constant decay and can cease at any time. This is the nature of our life. Remaining aware of this, will prevent the mind from coming under the control of the delusions—the disturbing emotional response that hurts us and other sentient beings, preventing us from gaining realizations.

Romi knew this, she knew better than to focus on causatives in situations like this. She'd be no help otherwise. She started to think of her body as nothing more than walls of skin. There was nothing inside. There is no one inside. Emptiness was openess; she was conduit. She let the current begin to well up around her -- by this point it was much too late to do anything else.

In snatched her saber from her waist and in the same motion flourished the blade through a circular arc calling the scarlet blade to life in preparation for the impending assault.

She would give her nothing else.

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: New Jedha
Equipment: Jedi Armor, DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Zark San Tekka , Rann Thress , Bernard of Arca , Marlon Sularen (Enemy)

Jax heart stopped the moment he saw turboblasts raining down from the sky, those bastards were doing it. They were bombing the entire fracking city with every innocent in it. The Jedi wanted to move, he wanted to take cover but the massive disturbances in the force paralyzed him into submission. Jax could only witness the destruction at hand, the buildings exploding all around him as if they were geysers in Commenor Springs. His radio was full of screams and cries for help by the Shocktroopers and civilians alike as they were blown to pieces. The people in that square were counting on the Jedi to help them, save them but expectations did not meet reality. Jax remained rooted on to the floor anger boiling inside of him, he'd fought in many battles witnessed atrocities. This was just one of many that he has seen yet what was different was that he was in the middle of the slaughter.

Since Jax is more in tuned with the Force he can feel the death around him. The Jedi flexed his fingers around his Lightsaber as the Gunship began to descend and Marlon Sularen approached him along with black armored troopers. They all jumped from the damaged Gunship, well at least there was one good thing that happened under all this atrocity. Jax saw a serious man with a lean face, his fixed upon him trying his best to either intimidate or even analyze Jax possibly both. Jax remained stone faced he began to disperse the anger focusing on nothing more than his duty as a Jedi. The Force was with Jax that much he knew even as he came face to face with Armageddon and the man who had jumped ship from the NIO.


"You're right it's a shame," Jax responded with sadness in his voice. He thought of Ziost and how he saw Marlon being the first man to assist Jax. They never knew each other and Marlon had no reason to help Jax but he helped nonetheless. "To see the man who helped me in my time of need even though I was a total stranger to him join a group of genocidal maniacs."

The cold delivery in which Marlon delivered his words had no effect on Jax he continued to grip his Lightsaber mindful of the Force. It was curious that now this man wanted to talk after trying to reduce him to a blood paste. Looks like Jax hit harder the ship than anticipated. He remained stone faced while Marlon ranted about the fragile alliance between the Senate and the Jedi. Those critiques were to be honest not to dissimilar to Jax's dismay towards the Galactic Alliance. Something he confided with Jairdain during the last war. The Galactic Alliance was in dire straits but yet even with all the war crimes, the NJO may or may not done, all of the corruption. Jax still stayed with them.

"You're right," Jax said. "The GA is full of corrupt people, the NJO are in over their heads due to folly and youth. But even then they have their hearts in the right place in making the Galaxy better place. I'm fighting for a better future for the Galaxy and you know what? I may fail, but I will not give up. Because I've learned there's no happiness to be found in death, living a life fighting for what you believe in. I have faith in the NJO, I have faith in GA and I have faith that we will bring down the Brotherhood."

The Jedi Master sighed. "We were brief allies once Marlon," he said. "We don't have to keep fighting and instead we can direct our fight in building to a better future. For the galaxy's sake we need to stop fighting and let the peace talks continue. No more atrocities, no more war let's start rebuilding."

 

[Gorthalon]

Location: New Jedha City ruins.
Objective: Scout and survive.
Equipment: Gorthalon's Greataxe, IB-series blaster, cortosis forearm guards, radiation grenade.
Friendlies: GA & allies.
Hostiles: BOTM & NSO & allies.
TLDR: Gorth witnesses the orbital bombardment. An unknown ship releases a Xenomorph Queen on him. He loses his weapon, but ultimately defeats the frightening creature.
Tag: Darth Tennacus ​

Immediately following the heavy orbital bombardment of the Plaza, which, due to some miraculous, invisible ex-machina did not shred the masses of survivors down to their tiniest of gluons, Gorthalon was visibly distraught. Of course, he could never have expected something like this to happen, yet he did feel like he should have stayed with those back at the Holy Quarter. As the bombardment relocated entire buildings outside of the Square that were unshielded, he was forced to duck down again on the roof despite the significant distance between him and the bombing zone. Yet the structure he chose to scout from remained more or less stable. A profound shift in his understanding of the enemy came to be at that moment. This ruthless method of waging war, the magnitude of these efforts put forth by the Maw were absolutely unlike anything he had witnessed before. The Brotherhood stood against everything he ever cherished in life, yet a soldier that does not recognize the grisly efficiency of this unique enemy, is a complete fool. The sheer brutality of the Maw’s tactics demonstrated here, today, forever cemented his respect for them. He will forever fight against them, of course, but he respected them like one respects the colossal strength of a Krayt dragon or the lethal efficiency of a virus; and in this terrible moment, as he processed from afar the aftermath of the emerald rain on the Quarter, the Yuzzem first began to understand the role this formidable enemy shall play in the future of the Galaxy, and how defining the conflict of these forces really is.
​

Unlike in the stories of his childhood, the omens of real life manifested without warning, and without mercy. His ears have picked up on the deep hum of an approaching ship’s engine. As it flew closer and optically grew in size ever so slightly, the scouting soldier began to notice its outside characteristics. The ship was specialized, well-equipped and strangely menacing.

There is no way he is not detected at this point, as the ship appeared to have shifted directions and rerouted straight to him. Always preferring to face fate head-on, instead of what his training officers at the Pathfinders would have recommended to him in this situation, he stood tall and let the inevitable happen. Feeling any opposition towards the ship to be meaningless at this juncture, he simply stood on the top of the building with a strict disposition.

But the ship did not fire. It hovered only instead. The mechanical noises of a ramp-opening sequence emanated from the ship, and his instincts quickly jolted him awake from whatever emotional deep dive he was previously in. Every single moment leading up to this one has absolutely been out of the ordinary. He took his blaster pistol out of its holster, but let his arms hang next to him. He registered his surroundings, just like he always does before a fight. But will there be one?

Partially or totally demolished buildings all around. Some burning, some smoldering, but all of them destroyed by either the artillery strike by Major General Harson Thaddeus , or the Maw. He stands atop the only outcropping this desolate landscape has to offer. The next scene unfolds as if it was a grotesque mural on an ancient wall.

The Yuzzem warrior stands solemnly on top of the tall building. The ship is hovering about ten meters in front of him, its howling engine conjuring up a tempest of dust, grit and gore as it lifts up severed limbs and skeletal remains from the ground below. The eye of this macabre storm obfuscates whatever the ominous ship’s cargo hold births forth. The formless, visibly large blob of darkness produces waves of tremor as it collides with the ground below. As its smeared form expands tenfold and steps out of the dust cloud, it spews a spine-tingling wail in the Yuzzem’s direction. The strange, armored, horrifying lifeform deployed by the ship is a spectacle to behold. The Yuzzem suddenly feels as if he’s back in the gladiatorial pits of the Cephoid Mining Assembly. There, he had spent most of his adult life fighting monstrosities for the amusement of others. What is happening? Has the enemy been following him ever since he left the Holy Quarter? Is somebody trying to test him?

Well, I know how to put on a show.

The horrid creature in front of him beckons Gorthalon with its stance. Viciously sizing him up, it also appears to be registering its surroundings. It cannot be allowed time to think. Lightning fast, the Pathfinder empties an entire energy cell’s worth of shots from his blaster at the enemy as he slides down the side of the building, knowing full well it will not even make a dent in the seven meter tall dreadful monster in front of him. He lands on the street. He holsters his weapon and runs down a nearby corridor as he hears the foreboding thuds of the approaching creature’s gigantic steps in ever shorter intervals. The Yuzzem drops to all fours and jumps forward, all the while smelling that this living nightmare is just about to catch up to him. Midway through the jump he digs his claws deep into the corner of a half-standing building and takes a breakneck turn, stunningly spinning around it with claws screeching, then launching himself off of the other side of the wall. He soars through the sky and quickly finds himself an elevation higher. He snaps back at his bloodthirsty pursuer only to see that he had gained a short lead. He pushes on.

With great momentum the creature climbs up to where the warrior just stood and closes the distance effortlessly, but since he had already reloaded his weapon, the Yuzzem leaps from the edge of the roof, spins around to face his enemy and mid-flight releases another thunderous volley of blaster fire, but this time aimed directly at the gaping mouth of this gargantuan being. A couple of the shots hit, just enough to disorient it. The enemy wavers and falls down from the roof, into an alleyway below. Gorthalon also falls towards the ground, unable to rotate any further mid-air and lands on his back, sliding a few meters ahead of the creature.

The angered cry of the monster stumbling to stand up is intertwined with the cacophony of shattering roof tiles and rumbling debris in its path. The gasping soldier is about to recollect himself and push himself off the ground, but is violently dragged back by his left ankle. His eyes widen as he approximates the impact location of the chitinous creature’s sharp tail attack. Forcefully he rolls over from side to side as he narrowly avoids its flurry of attacks, but he finally manages to kick it in the face. It recoils for the briefest moment. The furred beast’s arms push his body with enough strength to stand on his feet in an instant. The grotesque creature already having regained its footing, without hesitation, repeats its tail-strike. The Yuzzem dashes away from its vector of approach just in time. He backpedals. It crawls fast towards him, and even on all fours it towers above the Yuzzem, which is a rare feeling for him. Thrust after thrust, the attempted attacks with its sharp tail sound like loose rope being whipped into tension. After the fourth or fifth strike, Gorthalon swiftly turns and leaps. As he’s flying towards yet another roof, away from the horrid monstrosity, he takes a gamble. He cannot best this creature alone without taking risks.


Landing on a horizontal stone roof, he skids to a halt, spins around his own axis, unclips the mammoth of a greataxe from his back and slices clean through the extended arm of the monster now flying towards him. Letting the momentum of the massive weapon’s swing facilitate his ducking maneuver, the Yuzzem can hear its agonizing yell as it flies overhead. Yet he feels that something isn’t right. His greataxe is lighter. He raises the weapon, but much to his disbelief, its top half is completely missing, as the blood of this beast is apparently utterly lethal, liquid acid. One of its limbs is gone, but so is Gorthalon’s trusted weapon.

The clang of his half-molten weapon reverberates within the stone structure he is standing on as he lets go of it. As it finally settles, the hideous creature forebodingly launches itself into a final, relentless pursuit, now more furious than ever before.

I need to take one last chance.

The Yuzzem once again takes to the winding streets of New Jedha City, or what’s left of them, and on all fours, manages to keep the distance with the gargantuan reaper following him. Left and right he rockets along the alleys and finally charges into a building engulfed in flames. As he swerves to a halt beneath the burning wooden ceiling, he turns towards its entrance, the diameter of which has been expanded by a laser projectile from the artillery strike. The creature is already burning with rage and is charging at Gorthalon at ramming speed. Each step taken by the creature makes surrounding structures collapse. Seconds feel like hours as the panting Yuzzem stares down the advancing colossus. It initiates its final pounce, ready to tear its prey to pieces.

But so does the Yuzzem. Gathering all his gigantic strength he bursts through the burning roof, thereby collapsing it on top of the horror as it crashes into the wall instead of its prey. The exhausted Yuzzem’s fall is broken by the burning building’s only intact wall and he bounces towards the street unspectacularly, ultimately landing in the cold, hard dirt.

Drenched in sweat and still heaving for air, lying on his abdomen with his arms extended, he coughs after every exhalation amid the blood-curdling screams of his vanquished foe.
​

He allows himself a couple of breaths on the ground, but finally, emerges as the victor.

He stands up and slowly turns his head.

The vivid colors of the burning building dance in his pitch black eyes.​

 

[Aeris Lashiec]

Danika Leventis
Arlo Renard

"You killed their friends, Alex!" Aeris exclaimed in pain. "You butchered their leader. The fury they felt was—"

She stilled her nerves. None of how this was going down was something she could have foreseen. As the ceiling groaned above there was nothing she could do but watch as Alex grew more and more defensive, yet underneath it she still felt that spark — that small ember that she needed to stoke somehow.

"You know that I never wanted to strike you down." Aeris argued back to push further out of his grip. "You know that you were the one who tried to force me into something I did not want."

She blocked his attack and pushed it away. He might have been the one to teach her how to protect herself, but that also meant that she was all too aware of how he fought. They both knew the other's strengths and weaknesses.

"How can you say that?!" Aeris yelled. "I mourned you, I did everything in my power to make sure that you were remembered for who you had been before you died."

The roof above began to crack. The artillery fire did them no favors on this day.

"If you think that I ever stopped caring, ever felt anything but remorse and fear for what you caused me to—"

A piece of debris impacted against the roof of a nearby rooftop which began to spray debris of its own across the street that had become their playground.

"I had never raised my blade with the intent on either taking a life or protecting my own until I met Danika. You taught me that, Alex. You always said that it is those without compassion who fall the hardest when the rug is swept out from under them."

"Please. Don't fail me like I failed you. Be better."

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

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

Objective I: Defile the City
Location: Tythoni Square, New Jedha City, Jakku
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Marlon Sularen | Tegan Starfall
Enemies: Harson Thaddeus | Bernard of Arca | Zark San Tekka | Gorthalon | Zanvic "Ironhide" Dak | Syndulla Command

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

I saw the two members of my little team start down on the other side of the roof. I nodded to the one with me to do the same. I even decided to look around quickly from here. I moved faster without them anyway. For security reasons, I have activated the camouflage device. I didn’t want anyone to shoot me if there were snipers elsewhere.

With my eye, only the movements outside were visible, not what was in the building, but when I asked MANIAC for the scanner data, I immediately saw the truth of previous message exchanges on my retina. The civilians were really evacuated, and unfortunately they could not be seen from here because they were on the other side of the square and even a building or both sides of it were in the way. The previous statement was correct, I have to go down and go there.

However, I didn’t want to waste time with the additional stairs. I shot the grappling hook into the edge of the roof and then jumped off the roof. I was not high and I leaned my foot against the wall of the building all the way. It only took five or ten seconds and I was already on the ground. I untied myself from the rope and headed in the right direction.

I didn’t want my own to get in my way, so I was walking right on the side of the square, only going closer to the building when it was all inevitable. At that moment, I only realized that I had become too independent and did not wait for the lieutenant's order. A personal order because I did what the general order said. Someone try to stop me…

I entered the building through the rift on the side of the building next to the defenders, slipping in. I saw the civilians and I saw others inside like Bernard of Arca . I don’t know if a Force user sees through the cloaking device or not, I didn’t even want to risk it, so I set off after the fleeing civilians. it will be a pleasant little bloodbath.

<< Lieutenant, this is Mercy, I got into the building, and I’ll go after the fleeing civilians. I also see the Jedi in here… >> I sent the message.