Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Skirmish Dressel Dancefloor | COV vs JUN


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JEDI PAGE CLAIM!!!
Toby shifted his stance when shots started to ring out, one foot pulling back in active tension, as his Master tried to appeal to the Mandalorians. Tried to keep the situation from devolving entirely. He hadn't yet met a Mando that didn't try to put an end to him, but at the same time, he couldn't form his own definitive opinion on them yet; his sample size was too small. Yet Zhea's counsel, his one experience, and vault of history itself provided enough to at least inform his caution and compassion.

"Get your barrier up and start moving, Toby." she mumbled at him as she braced.

The Corellian sidestepped out from behind his Master at a measured pace, as his own barrier came alive in a nearly invisible shimmer.

Then the fight came to him and Zhea, as one dark-armoured Mandalorian and his small squad sprung into action. The CryoBan grenade made Toby jump back, float-skipping out of its radius, his barrier catching the flak of pistol fire as he rose and descended, landing almost in tandem with and within enough reach to do something about actions of the Mando that sought to blow up their ship, just as the armoured warrior threw the thermal detenator.

Toby turned and focused, and the world seemed to slow, as he reached out and gave the detonator a sharp nudge while it was still moving, and at such an angle that it would, to an onlooker, abruptly turn and pick up speed of its own volition, enough that it should clear well away from the ship, and away from causing any harm... other than putting a hole in the ground.

He pulled out of that focus as soon as the deed was done, and the world rushed back in. Toby looked at the detonator-throwing Mandalorian from behind his barrier, and suppressed the urge to be cheeky about it, while the detonator rolled onward and the rocket made impact somewhere well behind him.

 
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Gear: Armored Robes of the Wayward, Kta Dom Lya Great Sword, Vaova Kaila Lightsaber, GAHP-2 Roundhouse Pistol

Tag: Vara Rasha Vara Rasha

Taam watched as the Force shove forced the Mandalorian backwards, forcing a pause in her savage assault. The leonine jedi turned and slammed his hand over the actuator for the door several times, only eliciting a frustrating buzz of denial. He didn't have time to deal with it. The Shistavanen was already recovering. He should not have been so easy on her.

Turning to the foundling, Taam bared his large fangs and snarled at the taunting foe. His piercing amber gaze followed the Mando as she ran for cover, her guns resumed their blazing. Taam became a blur as his own Force-driven dash for the console alcove bought him only a sliver of cover. He knew his blade and armor could not repel the warriors choice of particle and sonic weapons for long. Then silence fell.

Taam stepped out. A blaster poked out of the alcove down the p-way. Taam threw up a Force Barrier. The foundling's powerful sonic blast slammed into the shield, sending a visible, shimmering ripple across the otherwise invisible barrier. Behind the shield, the boom was near deafening. When Taam looked up, the Mandalorina was confidently traipsing down the hall, her particle weapon sending crimson bolts his way. They bounced off the shield, leaving a myriad of momentary circular ripples. Then stream of red beams lowered.

She was attempting to herd him.

Taam moved backwards a few steps, focus on the barrier. The Cathar stood tall, glaring at the armored warrior. Then the knight tapped his wrist pad and the small Atrisian Seeker Drone attached to his armored robes detached. The little droid darted off to the stubborn door actuator to slice it open. Taam cursed himself for not letting the recon/slicer droid do all the work in the first place.

The lightsaber switched to Taam's off-hand and he drew the Roundhouse pistol. He had been told the old Alliance handgun was designed to counter the Enclave. The Cathar set the particle weapon to "crane kick" mode, preparing to deliver a devastating, canister-depleting blast. The Force barrier dropped, the pistol cracked loudly, bucking sharply in the jedi's large hand as the massive particle beam streaked towards the Mandalorian. Tamm then again made a Force-powered dash for the door, hoping the droid would get it open.
 
Walking myth, warning label, and mild HR violation
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Truth Be Told
Dressel
Unknown Village





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Code:
A whipcord? What’s ne… yep… fire…

The flame kissed his gear momentarily before finally the Force began to protect him, in a field of midichlorian blood washing over him. Make no mistake, Connel was not fully safe, he was getting first degree burns and had to act…

… and act he did…

Enough of this crap… Centering the Force in his legs, Connel leaped into the air, in an attempt to either break the whipchord’s hold, or pull Brent with him. Either way, his next move would be focused on the Mandalorian’s vambrace and then the jump pack.

Using the Force, Connel would attempt to pull the circuitry activating the weaponry and then slowly ball his hand up into a fist to attempt to outright crush the flight assist.

Keep this fight on the ground.

 

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THE CULMINATION
Unknown City | DRESSEL
TAG: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor
GEAR: BIO

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The ploy worked, and the Jedi was caught out. Brent watched as his flames burned over the Jedi's body, rippling in distinct waves as it coated the armor and began to do its holy work. Not long, and this fight would be over.

Then the Jedi moved quickly, far too quickly for someone of his size. The whipcord rang taught, yanking Brent forward and knocking him off balance. Brent set his feet and yanked his arm back, but instead of pulling the other man out of the air, the cord snapped from its housing, causing Brent to overextend as he pulled, and he fell backwards in a heap.

As he did this, he felt an unseen pressure in his helmet's circuitry, distorting the softer metal of the HUD housing unit, pushing it against his skull. Next the pressure was followed by a sudden POP. His HUD became distorted, full of static, and his jetpack began to spark.

//COMPROMISED FLIGHT TELEMETRY//

Popped up in the corner of his T-Visor, barely legible due to the crack in it.

//SUIT SYSTEMS DAMAGED//

How? He thought. It had to have been the Jedi. Or more likely, the Force. Brent quickly tossed another grenade into the room, letting the gaseous substance obscure him as he rolled backwards, coming to his feet. One hand ran down toward the Yossubi Gas Cartridges along his bandolier.

Broken.

Only one remained. It would slightly protect him from the Force, but not fully. He needed to end this. Now. Before the Jedi realized the predicament he would be in when he could use the Force more effectively.

His personal shield reactivated from his vambrace, the blue circle snapping into existence, and his AKraB vibrodagger flashed out into his other hand as he jumped back into the fray, ready to stab his dagger into the Jedi's heart.

As he did so, he heard the roar, the roar of a Wookie.



 
Walking myth, warning label, and mild HR violation
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Truth Be Told
Dressel
Unknown Village





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The helmet? I wasn’t aiming for that? Oh well.

The Force was not completely back with him, it was there, but he was not entirely in control so, unless he was forced to(no pun intended) there would be little use right now. It was starting to become clear that this Mandalorian was trying to help a child and not just fight a Jedi. Though he would gladly add that notch to his belt, to be sure.

It was when he grabbed that vibroknife that Connel was done with this. If he wanted to die, he would die. You had your chance to stand down… So be it…

[WAIT!] It was Wyyr'kull, and the two younglings.

Connel turned momentarily, saber at the guard so that his foe could not take advantage. [Master Jedi, I researched your name. Your father was a good man for my people. Will you listen to what this young one says?]

Connel held up a Force Wall between him and Brent for a moment so he could give his attention. I’m a man of my word. What do you have to say, young one? Is your sister okay?

“Yessir… She's feeling a little better. Did you mean what you said, when you said you would stop fighting if we wanted to go?”

Connel didn’t like where this was going, but he was a man of his word, like he said. I did.

“Is it okay if we go with them? She feels better right now, but I don’t know if it is just right now, if that makes sense. Sir, she’s all I have.” He was despondent as she clung to him.
You know, I could get you the help you need too.

“He offered first. Sir. I want to go with him, and she does too.” His sister just nodded. She was starting to cough again.

Connel said nothing for a moment or two, he did reach out through the Force to try to heal her again like he had before. It wasn’t much, but a gesture. He then looked at Wyyr'kull You have my comm information.

With that, the Force Wall was still up, and would stay that way until Brent would stand down. If you two… you three need me for anything… do not hesitate to contact me.

Holding his weapon back, he made no more moves. I’m a man of my word.

 
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Blasters echoed, drowning out her Master's voice. Kito had been right to stay on edge. She had been right to assume the Mandalorians weren't interested in what the Jedi wanted.

Kito hated being right sometimes.

The Mandalorians were a people defined by combat. Honor, loyalty — all of it was proven through sacrifice in battle. The Padawan understood that. They were not so different from the Echani, or even the Kro Var shapers. Battle was the high, and dying in battle was considered a blessing.

With that understanding, Kito doubted any of them would yield today. They would fight until the very end. Until the last one stood.

Excitement surged through her, the fire in her belly igniting with thrill. Combat — that was what Kito understood. It was where she flourished. Her Master seemed much the same, an Echani Battlemaster whose entire life revolved around war and discipline.

It was perfect.

Her Master was the perfect hand to guide her.

But that would require the Padawan to ignore the fire the battle stirred within her.

Impossible.

Kito's hand tightened around the hilt of the odachi as she drew the blade and let it rest across her shoulder. She waited, watching to see if the Mandalorian would take the opening shot on the two Jedi.

He didn't.

Words crackled through the helmet's vocoder.

By then, Kito's mind was already made up.

Her front foot slid forward across the ground rather than lifting off the ground. The motion was subtle, barely enough to shift her weight. As she moved, the odachi slipped from her shoulder and settled into both hands, angled low across her body.

A breath licked with flame escaped her parted lips.

Then she attacked.

The distance vanished in a sudden diagonal burst, her speed fueled by the Force. Kito did not charge head-on. Instead, she cut across the warrior's line of sight, forcing the blaster to track laterally rather than settling cleanly on her center mass.

She felt no touch of the Force from him, nor from most of the Mandalorians present. But they were still dangerous.

As she closed in, the odachi rose in a clean upward arc, singing through the air. White-hot flame burst along the ancient blade, revealing its true nature. The strike was not aimed at the Mandalorian's chest, but at the arm holding the blaster.

Kito did not follow through with the blade in an attempt to sever limb from body. Instead, she stepped into the space she had just created. Her eyes burned into the visor staring back at her, no emotion softening her face.

"Good," she muttered. "I hate talking."

Her rear foot planted and her hips turned, the momentum of the swing carrying through her body as her leg snapped upward. Flame burst around the heel of her boot as it drove hard into the Mandalorian's midsection just beneath the chest plate.

The kick was meant to stagger him — to break his balance and create an opening.

For her Master.

Heat surged through the Shaper as she stayed close to the armored warrior. Fire gathered deep in her chest, building in her throat as she pressed the attack.
 

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THE END
Unknown City | DRESSEL
TAG: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor
GEAR: BIO

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You had your chance to stand down… So be it…
The Jedi was too sure of himself; he would live to regret that. But Brent held back, momentarily taken aback by the Wookie's reappearance, that, and some invisible force that was pushing against him. An appearance that was against what Brent had told him to do. Before he could speak, however, Wyyr'kull spoke, stating that he was aware of the Jedi and of his history.

How quaint, Brent thought to himself as he listened to the Wookie speak. Brent let the situation play out, not surprised at the outcome. He had offered the kids a light in the darkness, no threats, no promises, just help. The Jedi had offered at the end of the rifle barrel, and it no doubt spooked the kids. They couldn't understand the nuance of Brent or the Jedi's position.

If you two… you three need me for anything… do not hesitate to contact me.

Holding his weapon back, he made no more moves. I’m a man of my word.
Brent holstered the knife, powered off his shield, and removed his helmet, clipping it to his belt. He turned and faced Wyyr'kull, "Now's your chance, foundling." Brent pointed to Connel, "You can return to your family, or you can stay; the choice is yours." The Wookie hesitated, truly thinking of the decision before holding the girl up in his arms, his intentions clear; he wanted to help her.

"Then it is decided, for now. Now, if you'll stop placing the children in the middle of a gunfight, we can get the girl the help she'll need. Take her to the ship."

Brent watched as the Wookie turned, dejectedly, and walked toward the ship again. Wyyr'kull was young, and Brent wouldn't hold it against him too hard, but it was still foolish to bring the kids back into an active battle, no matter his feelings.

Brent turned back to the Jedi, smiling, "A Jedi, honoring his word? We shall see. If you still want to earn your medals, you might want to hurry off to the spaceport. If you're lucky, some of your friends will still be alive when you get there."

With that, Brent turned his back and began to follow Wyyr'kull towards his ship. He called back over his shoulder as he did so, "We'll meet again. You owe me a new visor."



 

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Location: Dressel
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Ally: Kito Kito
Opposition: Siv Dragr Siv Dragr

Kito charged into the attack without a word from Lily. It seemed her Padawan was headstrong and overly keen to fight. Not necessary bad traits but there were going to be times when Kito needed to learn how to rein herself in. Scope things out a little more before charging into the fray. This was not one of those times so Kito was fortunate. But it was something that Lily observed and kept in mind for the future. She was Kito's teacher so she had to be able to instruct and provide pathways for growth.

Lily watched as Kito moved effortlessly, bolstered by the Force and the skill in which Kito used the blade. It was all impressive and Lily was glad to see her Padawan was a talented fighter already. It reminded Lily of how she was when Lily first joined the Jedi Order. Moving in close with equal speed, Lily's Lightsaber would embolden and empower the pair of Jedi more with the Force, akin to a Battle Meditation. While this was not a fight where the Lightsaber would be stronger since there was no heavy Dark Side presence, Lily knew her fighting skills would persevere and hopefully overwhelm this Mandalorian.

"If you wanted peace then your leader should have not shot at us, unprovoked." Lily growled, she was not going to allow someone to suggest that they simply turn the other cheek to this attack. If Briana had not been a Jedi, not been someone skilled in defending herself, the shots fired could have been lethal. Something that Lily simply would not stand by and allow to happen without retribution.

Seeing the opening created by Kito, Lily went straight for the beheading slice. Knowing that these were Mandalorians and they were all going to be wearing beskar, Lily knew that their strikes needed to be aimed where the beskar was now. Which was the joints. So Lily went for the killing blow in order to end the fight swiftly. Her strike was precise, swift and carried years of training behind it.
 
Walking myth, warning label, and mild HR violation
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Truth Be Told
Dressel
Unknown Village





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... and now this Schutta is still talking crap…

This fool was still arguing, trying to talking himself up. It was not surprising, and Connel would not pay it any mind, but there was something about what he said to the Wookiee that ticked him off. So he let them leave, and when it was just the two of them.

We both know you don’t give a crap about any of them, but keep believing your own lies... but know this Schuttaany one of those three contact me? We will see each other again, only I won’t be as nice.

Again, he was keying that comm that the Wookiee tossed him the entire time, if it was on, they heard the entire conversation. He then turned his back and walked away.

 
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THE FOUNDLING
Dressel | Low Orbit, The Akaan'ar
Equipment: In Bio
Engaging: Taam Moghul Taam Moghul


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Goodbye Raven

Like a raging tide striking a breakwater, the Harpy’s relentless fury crashed against an unseen barrier. Sonic waves and particle bolts struck the invisible cover just inches away from the Cathar Jedi. A growl ripped from her core. Her twin pistols shrieked with each pull of the hair-trigger as her brows knit under the visor, sending another volley amidst her advance as the Jedi shifted behind the barrier.

He switched to grasp the lightsaber in his offhand with practiced ease. In the same moment, he summoned forth a probe droid with the punch of a button at his vambrace. It made for the console and docked as the interloper’s empty hand snapped to his hip. The distinct crackle of a holster cut through the din.

She saw it. He might as well have said what he was about to do.

With a leap, she dove for the nearest alcove in the p-ways. The durasteel wall caught her back as she shrunk behind cover. A blaster bolt screamed past her in the same breath. Her helmet visor snapped after it. A gaping hole tore through the durasteel plating as sparks shot from the wall down the corridor.

She blinked.

A sharp cackle cut through the air like a knife. Leather crackled as she went to holster a pistol as she kept the other at a high ready. <”What kinda Jedi uses blasters?!”> Her hand reached for the bandolier draped over her breastplate. Digits wrapped around a smoke grenade by feeling alone. She leaned just enough to peek her visor around the corner before pulling back.

She caught his silhouette, and that’s all she needed.

Her thumb pushed down the fuse switch a heartbeat later. <”Suppose yer just as uncivilized as the rest of us, huh!”>Her hand whipped the air as she threw the smoke grenade from around the corner of her cover. The cylindrical canister the size of her palm struck the floor with a tin, scraping down the corridor as plumes of smoke poured from it with a hiss. The white mist quickly filled the corridor.

Then, Vara spilled out of cover.

Gunmetal scratched the leather of her holster as she drew forth her pistol again. Bright whites and greys filled her vision as her visor filtered her sight through thermal imaging, penetrating the smoke cloud. Barrels leveled towards his silhouette, her onslaught started anew as sonic waves split the air and red bolts tore towards the Jedi.

But he brought her to pause.

One second his thermal signature was before her amidst the smoke, and in the other he was gone as if the ground had split open and swallowed him whole.

Her lips peeled back to a crooked snarl as she ceased fire. Her measured advance gave way to a sprint. The smoke cloud swallowed her. She skidded to a halt, blasters raised as her gaze whipped around in search of the intruder. A heat-blur caught her eye down the corridor to her immediate right.

The damned droid had sliced through.

<”You motherkarker,”> Venom rolled rough and low from her throat as she keyed her comms. <”Harpy, din'kartay o'r!”> Vara burst into a sprint down the corridor. Breath lashed between gritted fangs before long. <”De traat'aliit, kaysh cuyir olaror gar miai! Hokaanir kaysh gurire!”> A masculine voice acknowledged her sharp report in brevity.

They were moving in.

<“O'r hulmika!”> His scent was still fresh in her snout, and with the blessing of the gods they’d have him sandwiched before long.

 

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Gear: Armored Robes of the Wayward, Kta Dom Lya Great Sword, Vaova Kaila Lightsaber, GAHP-2 Roundhouse Pistol

Location: Dressel Orbit, Iron Covenent ship The Akaan'ar

Tag: Vara Rasha Vara Rasha

His foe saw it coming. The massive all-or-nothing blast from the Roundhouse pistol missed its target and slammed into the bulkhead, punching a savage hole in the durasteel. Taam wasn't a crack marksman, but the blast served it's purpose, forcing a halt in the Mandalorian's barrage and send her running for cover. She vanished in an alcove. A deep hum rumbled in the big Cathar's massive chest. He quickly ejected the spent canister and it clattered to the floor as he holstered the heavy pistol.

The small seeker droid had avoided being struck in the assault and was accessing the door controls. A tension clung in the ozone thick air, Taam channeling the Force as the droid worked. He felt a ripple, she was moving. A glance down the corridor revealed a gauntleted hand tossing something down the hall in his direction. Thick white smoke began to pour out of the grenade. Taam's glowing blade lifted, the jedi reaching through the Force to anticipate the Mandalorian's attack. If escape would not be possible, he would charge, allow the Jadeite armored robe's Tutaminis to take the brunt of the attack and shove the searing lightsaber up under her helmet.

But that desperate move wasn't necessary, as a satisfying beep chimed from the droid and the portal slid open. Behind the veil of smoke, Taam darted through and down the corridor in a blur.

His saber deactivated and the Cathar knight got his bearings. Taam knew other warriors were on their way, the Shistavanen had raised the alarm. The Jedi had to find that docking bay. Recalling the ship schematics, he ducked down a side corridor towards the bay's entrance. But he knew she would be in pursuit. Already, the sound of boots echoed in the p-ways.

 


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G U N S L I N G E R
Dressel
Engaging: Lily Decoria Lily Decoria | Kito Kito
Nearby: Reggie Rau Reggie Rau | Yael Kandar Yael Kandar | Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr | Sindel Krymer Sindel Krymer | Zhea Nox Zhea Nox | Toby Perris Toby Perris | Kamon Hourn Kamon Hourn | + More

If all of Siv's fingers were cut off, he'd still be able to count how many times the Jedi had shown up to 'talk,' and it had been just that. Some peacekeepers they were. Even Mandalorians knew what conflict de-escalation was.

Siv had expected the Jedi to at least say something when given the chance. When the slimmer of the two suddenly dashed with unnatural speed, he was caught off guard. He fired his blaster, instinct overriding reason, but he was just too slow, blaster bolts singing behind the young Jedi as she dashed laterally. He wasn't a foundling -- he pivoted as she drew close. The blade she wielded drew his attention; it was so very un-Jedi-like, it looked more like a beskad than a laser sword.

It streaked with white-hot flame as the Padawan, distance closed, swung upwards at his blaster arm. Siv had moved his weight, shifting to the side and forward, so that her blade would pass upwards through the air harmlessly. The vibrospines of his gauntlet automatically extended, ready for the melee. With unsurprising dexterity, however, the Padawan stopped the blade, and inches between them, the young girl's eyes met the cold steel of Siv's visor.

He was amused.

"Good," she muttered. "I hate talking."

Siv saw her foot plant and hips turn, the kick telegraphed as if it were broadcast on the Holonet. Blaster in hand, he deftly switched from marskman to gunslinger mode. With his left, beskar vibrospines extended, he stepped back far enough that the foot wouldn't be able to plant and swiped at her kicking leg. If contact was made with skin, the pain would be extreme.

From his helmet's enhanced field of vision, he saw the second Jedi closing in to attack. Not to be the fool, he blasted at the two with his right vambrace's sonic blaster, to try and stun the Jedi, while stepping back one pace and dropping a gravitic compression grenade right at the Jedi's feet. The grenade was primed to detonate a moment after touching the ground, deploying a clamp and microspike to anchor into the ground. With the same foot taking a step back, he pushed against the ground and ignited his jetpack, soaring upwards and backwards to create space between him and the Jedi.

The grenade would detonate, creating a field that would immobilize the Jedi if caught in it. From around ten meters in diagonal distance from the two Jedi, Siv paused momentarily. He recognized the older of the two. "You're the Padawan I caught over Kestri," he realized, almost laughing with derision. The incident that had spiraled into the war between the Galactic Alliance and the Enclave. He turned to the other. "You know how many deaths your Master caused from snooping around?" His words were a snarl. On Ryloth, he'd held himself back, but now he aimed to kill. He unleashed a stream of rapid-fire, high-energy blaster bolts from his pistol, fanning the hammer so to speak, to unleash an overwhelming barrage against the two Jedi that would hopefully be too immobilized to defend themselves.

The galaxy would be better off rid of two more interlopers.

 
There was definitely something the Mandalorians had that Jedi didn’t. Their clans. Sure, Jedi had the whole of the Order, and they had their Enclaves, but it was something that the Starchasers didn’t hold to all that well until Kattada. They were a family of Jedi, which made them counter to the Jedi. More Wardens really. And Jared and Kaia both did carry a sash in a various format as a belt or scarf. Dark blue, yellow highlight. Jared was hired for tasks when trouble was needed to be found.

And that was another reason he wasn’t much of a decent Jedi. not in the way of Kenobi at least. Maybe Tano, or Kestis. His hand had his lightsaber in it, and when Sahan had moved, Jared was ready. Not as quick as he hoped to be, trying to go in with an open hand, the elbow did catch Jared on the side of hte head. Trying to move on instinct, to shunt that hit and move his mind away from it, the Mirialan-Corellian rolled backwards, coming up with a three handed stance, green lightsaber igniting.

“If its not armor, its your tech!”
He almost laughed at that. The blaster more a sonic weapon, Jared was trying to focus his body and steel his mind.

All the while he was pushing the Force into his free hand to create a flash-bang like effect, hopefully enough to stun Sahan, and move from where he was, and create a few illusions to draw the sonic fire away from him.

Between that and slugs, he hated fighting Mandalorians. Though he had to respect their skills.
 
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The Mandalorian was faster than Kito had expected. Beskar had been misleading. She had assumed he would plant himself, become an immovable fortress — something she could force her way through. But this was different. Something that moved with mirrored speed while carrying that level of defense was new, and it caught the young padawan off guard.

Her kick missed its mark, and pain surged through her calf as the tips of Beskar claws raked across it. She had felt superficial cuts before, but this was something else entirely. There was a burn beneath the wound, and her blood ran thick and sluggish down her leg.

There was something more to just the claws, a trick up the Mandalorian's sleeve.

Pain wasn't unfamiliar, but this demanded attention. Still, she couldn't afford to linger on it as much as it hurt; it wouldn't kill.

Something slipped from his hand as her foot hit the ground, and instinct took over. The Force surged outward, pushing the grenade several meters away, far enough to give both Master and Padawan space to avoid whatever effect it carried. But when no explosion followed, confusion settled in. She had expected impact, something immediate, something destructive — not silence.

Blasterfire followed instead, filling the space between them. He was unwilling to give the pair a chance to think or to plan their next strike. This was going to be a test for the pair, Kito having to learn to fight with the aid of another. They had to trust each other.

Kito raised her odachi, deflecting what she could as bolts snapped away from the blade, while the rest struck the barrier she held around herself. The Force absorbed what slipped past her guard, but she knew she couldn't stay on the defensive. She needed to close the distance again.

She moved her injured foot first, and the moment it touched down, her leg nearly gave out beneath her. The pain was sharper now, deeper, spreading in a way that wasn't natural. This wasn't just a wound. Whatever had been introduced was working its way through her, and if she didn't stop it, she wouldn't last much longer.

Kito exhaled, and fire followed.

A plume of heat escaped her breath as her body temperature surged, flames igniting at her feet as she forced her blood to burn hotter, to purge whatever had taken hold. She held there for a moment, steadying herself and maintaining the barrier as she cleansed her system. It split her focus, but she didn't have a choice.

Her gaze flicked briefly to her Master, trusting the woman would understand what was happening without explanation. There was history between her and the Mandalorian, and she needed those few seconds to recover before rejoining the fight.

Her attention snapped back to him, mind already shifting toward the next move.

The jetpack.

Most Mandalorians left it exposed. He wouldn't be the first she had fought, and he wouldn't be the last.

If they could take it out, ground him — then the fight would turn.
 

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Location: Dressel
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Ally: Kito Kito
Opposition: Siv Dragr Siv Dragr

Moving with the grace of a dancer, Lily dodged the sonic blasts sent her way and with the increased speed, she ran past the grenade that was attempted to be thrown at her feet. Lily was not stagnate in her movements, she moved fast. Faster than a normal human could move. She was not holding back against this Mandalorian. These warriors were too dangerous, they were proving to just desire death and destruction. Civil conversations were not acceptable and attempts to correct errors of the past were just pinned as the only ways that a person could be.

Lily paused when he mentioned knowing her. Lily narrowed her eyes when he claimed to have captured her on the station over Kestri. A moment from a lifetime ago, a moment where her desires to avoid conflict and explain the misunderstanding were fully ignored. An introduction in how these Mandalorians desired to converse and what they considered suitable when taking a hostage. Lily knew that they had not learned lessons from the errors that the Enclave committed. Determined to continue their errors.

"I was there by accident, my ship was damaged. You decided I was snooping and decided to torture me." Lily stated in a cold, calm tone, holding back the anger that she felt over the events that happened. The miscommunication that continued to loom over her even now. "Your people were itching to start a war, if it was not that misunderstanding then there was always another one that you were seeking to take advantage of. Like Valery killing one of your people."

When he started hammering energy bolts, Lily jumped in front of Kito, her Lightsaber moving inhumanly fast as she deflected and blocked the attacks. She was far more disciplined than she had been on that station. Lily was stronger, faster and more skilled with a Lightsaber, and she was demonstrating that simple tricks and tech that the Mandalorians used was no replacement for the Force. Lily focused and making sure that Kito was safe from the shots. "I'll try keeping his attention with this hammering. You slice the back of his knees from behind." Lily whispered to Kito so that the Mandalorian could not hear her plan for the Padawan to end this warrior's ability to fight.
 


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G U N S L I N G E R
Dressel
Engaging: Lily Decoria Lily Decoria | Kito Kito
Nearby: Reggie Rau Reggie Rau | Yael Kandar Yael Kandar | Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr | Sindel Krymer Sindel Krymer | Zhea Nox Zhea Nox | Toby Perris Toby Perris | Kamon Hourn Kamon Hourn | + More

"I was there by accident, my ship was damaged. You decided I was snooping and decided to torture me." Lily stated in a cold, calm tone, holding back the anger that she felt over the events that happened. The miscommunication that continued to loom over her even now. "Your people were itching to start a war, if it was not that misunderstanding then there was always another one that you were seeking to take advantage of. Like Valery killing one of your people."

Siv hated the Sith, on principle. But he despised the Jedi even more. Siv lost the respect he had for this warrior due to her blatant lie. Her raised vitals gave her away, but Siv himself had been there to capture her and bring her in. He knew that negotiation with the Jedi was a lost cause, good intentions or no. He wouldn't say anything. Words were for those who thought they needed them.

The Mandalorian ignored the Jedi's words. He knew the Jedi, prententious and sanctimonious, oh-so-vulnerable to their emotions. He had been fighting Sith and Jedi for decades. This was just another job.

His helmet's HUD mapped a 360-degree field of vision that fed him everything: the Jedi Knight squared to meet him, the Padawan behind her evidently suffering from the blood-poison of his vibrospines. The Jedi Knight had evidently grown since their last chance encounter, and the fluidity with which she moved her lightsaber to block Siv's blaster bolts spoke to her skill. But the Padawan mayhaps would not be as agile. The Devaronian blood-poison was already in her, spreading through the wound, and now she was burning; he could see the heat signatures flaring at her feet. He frowned. That was an unnatural biological response. And she looked to be recovering more quickly than a normal being would from the poison's pain

Splitting their focus would cost them. He could see their eyes flitting back and forth, resting on his jetpack. His HUD couldn't miss something like that. He thumbed his pistol from gunslinger to marksman mode with a small mechanical click. Siv needed precision now.

He didn't fire immediately. Instead, he raised his left arm and, with a subtle squeeze of his wrist and helmet command, launched a pack of Whistling Bird microrockets at the Jedi, a dozen in total. The guided munitions spiraled from his gauntlet in erratic patterns, course-correcting mid-flight as they emitted their characteristic high-pitched whistling scream. They would arc wide and curve in two separate vectors, each individual but ultimately divided between two targets that Siv's HUD had pre-selected: one, towards the Knight's lightsaber arm, and the other towards the Padawan's flank. They were small and numerous, and approaching from many different angles; at the speeds they were traveling, only unnaturally fast reflexes could save the Jedi.

In the same moment, driven by years and years of practice, Siv's blaster easily found the Jed Knight's center of mass. His thumb squeezed the trigger, deliberately, twice, each shot aimed right at the Jedi's center. He didn't expect his bolts to find their mark, not this easily, but the Jedi would have to shift, have to deconstruct the guard she had thrown up against him. He was breaking her down.


 


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THE FOUNDLING
Dressel | Low Orbit, The Akaan'ar
Equipment: In Bio
Engaging: Taam Moghul Taam Moghul


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Goodbye Raven

Contact!

A hail of blaster bolts erupted before the Jedi, halting his advance. The Mandalorians—four strong—dispersed and bounded for cover in the same breath. Rifles snapped to brace on corners before continuing to suppress the Cathar Jedi. Shifts in posture offered smaller targets. Initial dispersion cleared their sightlines, turning the corridor around the Jedi into a killzone with overlapping fields of fire.

Chaos began anew, tightening to fix the Jedi in place.

A violent staccato ripped the air, the combined volley swelled into a relentless storm of red fury in a breath. Bolts hammered the walls, the floor, the air itself—too many, too fast to track. The ear-splitting crescendo became a single, continuous howl.

Not singular fire, nor bursts.

A flood.

The defenders of The Akaan’ar offered no quarter. The warriors moved to leave no space to breathe for the interloper.

And it only marked the start of his troubles.

Footfalls cut through the din. A pair of boots stomped across the durasteel floor to his rear, seconds from rounding the corner. She caught up. Breath lashed between gritted fangs. Crimson glare set ahead, the Harpy reached for her bandolier. By feeling alone she found what she sought.

Her hand whipped the air as she threw it.

A palm-sized cylinder struck the wall across from the corner, sending a sharp metallic clatter down the p-ways. The device bounced off the durasteel and flung midair behind the intruder.

Bang!

A blinding flash swallowed the p-ways, gleaming off flash guard treated visors–a deafening thunderclap followed in the same heartbeat, drowning out the relentless howl of blaster fire for a moment.

Then, she emerged.

The young Foundling rounded the corner the second the flash grenade’s fuse burnt out. A venom-laced snarl rolled from her throat as she snapped her twin pistols toward the killzone. Digits bit down on the triggers—a shriek left their muzzle.

Her aim cut past the rest of her kin's. They already worked to fix him in place.

Vara had a different idea in mind.

Red particle bolts sizzled past the Cathar and splashed against the ceiling, striking an overhead pipe above the Jedi. Its containment compromised, the contents wasted no time in pouring out from the nearest—and newest—hole.

Scalding hot steam began to jut out in a jet, threatening to burn him from above.

She would have his pelt before the day was over.


 

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Gear: Armored Robes of the Wayward, Kta Dom Lya Great Sword, Vaova Kaila Lightsaber, GAHP-2 Roundhouse Pistol

Location: Dressel Orbit, Iron Covenent ship The Akaan'ar

Tag: Vara Rasha Vara Rasha

"This should have been Tigris' mission." Taam snarled to himself as a rain of blaster fire erupted in the passage ahead of him. His lightsaber leapt to life as it whirled about, deflecting searing red bolts as he Force-sped to a side door alcove. The wild spray of deflected blaster bolts sent the Mandalorian's shifting into their own cover, effectively blocking Taam's progress forward. Soon, the Shistavanen would be coming up behind him.

The defenders kept up their barrage, their fire slamming harmlessly outside of Taam's cover, but keeping him effectively pinned. Then he heard the distinct clang of metal. A breath later, the grenade went off. The light blinded him, the bang deafening. In the next breath, Taam was reaching into the Force, opening his perception. In his mind, he perceived the structure around him, the Mandalorian's behind their cover, the Shistavanen coming out with guns blazing...at the ceiling.

Taam ducked further back into the alcove, but didn't fully avoid the blast of hot steam, it surrounded his arm, soaking fabric with scalding moisture and the armor with high heat. The Cathar roared in pain, then hissed through his teeth as he drew upon his will and the Force to gain focus again.

He had no idea what lay beyond the door behind him, or if it would open. He tasked the seeker drone with opening it. ,His senses hampered, pain searing in his arm, the jedi drew upon every fiber of his being to draw the Force to one point of concentration. Then he leapt out into the p-way, crouched and flung out both hands.

An explosive, crushing blast of the Force erupted with Taam as the epicenter. The violent force blasted down the hall in each direction in a savage wave. bulkheads shuddered, anything attached to the walls were torn off. As soon as the shockwave ignited, the defensive barrier returned. When Taam opened his eyes, he could see again, and he stood tall, his violet lightsaber igniting again.

 


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THE FOUNDLING
Dressel | Low Orbit, The Akaan'ar
Equipment: In Bio
Engaging: Taam Moghul Taam Moghul


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Goodbye Raven

Silence befell the blasters.

A shockwave surged through the corridor in a deep, rolling rumble. The Foundling moved as the force rushed to meet her. She planted her feet firmly, the soles of her boots magnetized to the durasteel a heartbeat later. Her vambraces shot up to shield herself from the incoming onslaught.

And she met it.

Head on.

A snarl tore free as the invisible shockwave slammed into her. The debris swallowed her silhouette whole in the next breath.

Destruction lay in its wake, on both sides of the p-ways—durasteel crushed, bent, and tore off the walls and ceiling. Plating above torn loose, the pipes burst, cables spilled from blown-out panels, dangling like the guts of a freshly gored animal. Sparks bounced and winked on the floor before withering away.

But amidst the destruction, she held.

Her armored figure emerged from the settling steam and dust. Black mane and locs tousled. Cuts—deep and shallow—marred the bodyglove and her hide underneath. A sharp cackle echoed in the corridor as she went to holster a pistol, the muzzle of the other lowered to the ground. The emotionless visor shot past the Cathar Jedi and looked to her kin.

They lay scattered and unmoving, but the green glow across their vitals on her heads-up display soothed her concern.

It failed to quench her rage.

Her visage snapped back at the interloper. Measuring. Her rage simmered in the promise of his blood. Her boots hammered against the durasteel, back and forth. End to end. Turn. End to end again. Not a pause nor hesitation—just a caged rhythm, tightening with every step.

Muscles drew taut, tendons standing beneath her bodyglove.

<“Hey tell me somethin’ scughole,”> she began, a smile audible in her tone—wrothful. Each syllable dripped with venom as heat spread, blood slick against her fur. Shrapnel embedded in her flesh drew blood with every movement. <“Y’ever been mistaken for a man?”> A cackle accompanied her taunt, the shrill sharper than a scalpel.

And she surged.

She broke into a sprint, her blaster pistol snapping up to meet him. Her pistol shrieked down the hallway with each pull of the trigger. In the same breath her free hand drew forth another utility from her bandolier. The spherical grenade snugly fit in her palm. A press of the thumb, its fuse began to burn.

But this time, her arm did not whip the air for a throw.

She rushed him.

With every step she weaved, ducked and shot past the hazards strewn around the corridor.

Her knuckles tightened. The countdown ticked down in her mind. Her wrist twisted down, her vambrace leveled to his feet. A snare deployed with a sharp hiss. Particle bolts followed, hurling a rapid salvo at the Jedi. Another squeeze—click!

Dry fire! She was out!

She leapt. Her howl pierced the ears as she dove shoulder-first to knock him down. Then…

Zero.

Everything slowed.

Her core rattled. The bone-deep concussion became a near constant. Dust and debris flattened outward in a ring, no less than five meters. She felt… Restrained, as if dozens of hands grasped her firmly and held her down. Relentless, she endured. Her arms reached for the Jedi, claws outstretched. Each swipe and thrust became a battle of its own as she sought to find purchase with his flesh.

The gravitic field cut both ways, as her bodyglove proved to be compromised.

This was it.

He would fall.


 


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Gear: Armored Robes of the Wayward, Kta Dom Lya Great Sword, Vaova Kaila Lightsaber, GAHP-2 Roundhouse Pistol

Location: Dressel Orbit, Iron Covenent ship The Akaan'ar

Tag: Vara Rasha Vara Rasha

There was a profound silence in the wake of the Force shockwave. No more scream of blaster fire. Only the hiss of ruptured steam pipes, the drip of cracked lines and the ever-present hum of the ship. Amber, predator's eyes glanced down the hall to see the mando patrol down, stunned. His maned head turned again to see her, that relentless Shistavanen foundling, still standing.

The Cathar knight bare his large fangs, pearl-white stained with blood. He stood. She came at him, boots thudding, tossing brute insults at him. But Taam stood, gathered the Force, ignited his battle perceptions, expecting yet another barrage of duel blasters and grenades. But only one pistol was raised. His lightsaber ignited, casting an eerie violet light in the dim hall where flickering lightbars hung askew in the ceiling. His powerful but agile body began to move dodging, deflecting, absorbing in reinforced areas of his armored robe, as if he could predict the path of each bolt. Through the Force, he could.

Taam saw the hand go to her bandolier, another grenade. But it wasn't tossed, and the warrior didn't slow her charge. He saw the vambrance lower, discerning the Shistavanen's trick. He juked to avoid the snare, yet it still entangled one foot. The she was upon him with a savage yell, her full weight slamming into him. Then the grenade went off.

The first instant blinded and deafened Taam. And then he felt like he weighed a ton. Taam felt the mando claws raking his armor, tearing the exposed areas bodysuit and robes and ripping flesh. Straining thick muscle, the jedi reached, his large, clawed hand reached to grab her helmet, to pry her off of him. His other arm strove to lift, the lightsaber, to drive it through his foe. It drew closer, tapping a pauldron, leaving a black scorch and the smell fo seared beskar. It drew closer and closer to her neck, exposed as his powerful grip forced her helmeted head back.

In the chaos, the seeker droid had managed to open the doorway in the alcove, a hanger bay lay beyond. But Taam had yet to know, his ears still rang and his vision was only starting to recover.
 

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