Duty Calls [TJP/TSE]

[Mishel Kryze]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rx1yt90wzA[/media]

Mishel was not entirely sure where she had ended up.

All she knew was that her clothes stunk to the Force and she needed to change before her own stentch gave her away. And I really liked this jacket. The Tygaran crouched down behind the wall she had found and peered around the corner. There were guards there and as she crawled to the other end and peered around that corner there were guards there too. She could hear them talking on the comms about something, and with the alarms going off it looked as if they were rotating their patrols and adding more. Quietly she rose to her feet back against the same wall and patted herself down. Of course, no weapons - good job Mishel. She chided herself and leaned back to peer around the corner. A guard caught sight of her, feth he and his patrol mate made haste for her direction. The padawan took a deep breath and waited, she let an elbow out against one while the other managed a quick score into her mid section.

Mishel may have made a sound of pain but that was about it, she took a five foot step back and waited for the second one to come at her. When he did, she side stepped him and used her elbow again to run down his arm and pull his body toward her. In a swift motion she threw his body into his patrol mate's before the patrol mate could finish his punch. Mishel knocked the stun baton out of its holster and grabbed it. First patrolee managed to shove her down to the ground and that's where she hit him with the stun baton. He laughed a bit, stupid armor the padawan thought before landing both feet into his mid section. Using the baton she used a quick three motion hit into the second guy, head - neck - torso which sent him back down while she felt the armored arms of his buddy come around her. Taking the baton she got a look at the loose joints in the armor while trying to keep from the instinctive panick that her body wanted to go into. Baton was shoved into the joints forcing him to let go. Mishel managed a grapple as she turned, reached for his gun and used the back end of it to smash into his helmet.

Not wanting to take any chances, she walked around the two groaning guards and ran down the corridor. She didn't know it then, but it was a cross-section a T-shaped corridor and as she was about to start her own sprint [member="Aten Ramses"] whirled about faster than she could dodge and before she could react. Mishel was back down on the ground, fethin' chit tickets - next time I'm downloading the map.

 

[Kahne Porte]

Near Citadel

The fall from Lothal had been something of a nightmare. The Jedi Master lost many brethren that day, and it wasn't long before he was able to escape the planet and en route allied space. Word had reached his ears through means of the force as well as private comms that Jedi's [member="Romi Jade"] and[member="Coren Starchaser"] had been taken hostage and were being held on Sayu. The Jedi Master had fought the Supreme Leader of the First Order and while he wasn't dead, he had received his fare share of wounds. Not to mention feeling drained by the force as he was starting to recover.

The Jedi Master would've been no use to them if he had charged the citadel much less infiltrated. He would've just been another liability. However from his position nearby sitting in a meditative state aboard his ship. He would aid his allies as best as he could. The Jedi Master wasn't extraordinarily blessed in his ability with battle meditation. However as he opened his mind and could feel the presence of his allies and of the two captives he would reinforce them with as much hope,courage, will as he possibly could. While he wasn't supporting an entire army or anything on that scale. The group that had gathered to save their allies would indeed feel the presence.

Small beads of sweat had formed on the brow of the Jedi Master, while he was indeed strong his previous encounter on Lothal had slightly drained him of his energy. He would put everything he had into make sure this would be as stable as possible.

The force is with you my friends......

Coren....Romi...hold on...

 

[Rosalina]

Alm was poised to break down the door when Felicity intercepted her. Dutiful yet confused, the young woman backed down for now, though her body language said I’m ready to break some things if I need to. In situations like this, Alm felt that she was very much a novice. The only characteristic where she stood out among the Praxeum Jedi had to be her natural physical strength and daunting physique. Still, she was an adolescent and hungry for the approval of those around her.

Her head cocked to the side. “Oh.” That’s right, comms. Comms were a thing, a tiny thing that sat near your ear and allowed you to communicate effectively with someone who wasn’t in the room. Someone who was very far away, even. Right now Felicity was talking to Ember, one of the men she’d met when she had first joined the Praxeum. She wondered where the others were and if they were alright.

But that was overshadowed by the blaring alarms and sense of urgency. Then came Felicity’s approval.

This isn’t instinct. I don’t think it is, anyway. Alm’s internal monologue left her a bit puzzled. Was there a reason she had chosen this door? Maybe, maybe not. The more esoteric aspects of the Force were still shrouded in mystery.

“Ok. I break door. Move away, back.” Drawing the iron hammer from her back, the Nasvalo gave it a quick twirl to establish her grip. After sizing up the door she reeled back her weapon, swinging the hammer with tremendous force and a grunt of exertion.

The hinges groaned in protest before tearing, leaving busted durasteel to clatter haphazardly across the floor.

Alm announced proudly, “I break door.”

[member="Felicity Skye"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The Citadel - Deeper Dungeons - Torture cell​

[member="Romi Jade"]​

Tension growing, growing, growing, she could see it, hear it, taste it in the tension of the skin from where she sat.

Oh the girl had resisted well, put up quite the fight even, but this was the Citadel on Lola Sayu, and odds were rigged against her. It was what made this place so exquisite: The architects had thought of just about everything. She remembered herself how difficult it was to infiltrate. Difficult, but not impossible. No, the Sith Empire's guards were more diligent than the previous owners, that much she knew.

The Rattataki bit her lower lip and leaned forward as she sensed the pain well up. And there it was, the first snap. A shiver went down her spine when she heard the scream, so loud, so genuine, it travelled down the halls. The delight in her was palpable as she savoured every drop of misery exuded from the prisoner.

"Oh you sing beautifully today, Filth"

Filth, that was the name by which she had referred to Romi all this time. Ophidia set down the cup on the table next to her seat and stood up. She took a few steps towards Romi and then stopped as she squatted down to look into the Jedi's eyes as they filmed over and dimmed.

"No no. Stay awake dear. We have more songs to sing." "I need you to stay awake for me, Filth. Just a little more."

She pulled a small vial from her pocket and unscrewed the cork, then held it under Romi's nose. The solution was supposed to jolt the unconscious awake with a rush of adrenaline. It wouldn't dull the pain much. The cogs did not continue, but the clamps remained tight for the time being. Ophidia knew better than to release a Jedi while waking her up. No, that would only lead to an escape attempt. Until the girl was thoroughly hobbled, that would not do.

"Come now."

She reached out to clamp her fingers around Romi's face, impatience growing on her face. She waved the noxious solution under Romi's nose.

"Don't make me peel that pretty face off while you sleep."

 

[Caztihs Krixus]

"Ehmmghh" Cactus groaned as he sat up. In underwear and dog tags, He pulled himself up and out of bed trying not to disturb the soldier above him, even if the alarm was soon to. He blinked, his eyes seeing flashes of red; the alarms rang in his ears as if they were intent on giving him tinnitus. "9 tones and Flashing Reds. Someone poked their nose into something they shouldn't have." He recalled citadel procedures as he fit himself into worn Legionnaire Armor.

While Cactus hadn’t been at the Citadel long, he’d been there just long enough to know that procedure was key. Procedure was survival. If you didn’t know the plan of action you were usually left behind and punished. Like the sorry bastard in the top bunk would’ve been if Cactus hadn’t ripped him off it, sheets and all. “Get up, and stop making this unit look like Bantha fodder.” He advised before grabbing his SIF-71 off the arms rack and leaving.

Walking down the halls to his assigned post was a simple enough task, but it was item one on the “In case of…” itinerary. So he marched down to his post, Section B-1 of Quadrant 4, also known as the elevators on the control floor. He met up with two other Legionnaires assigned the same post.

“You don’t think this is all just some happy accident do you? Maybe someone tried the wrong room, or touched the wrong terminal.” One of the soldiers posited innocently.

“And how often you think these Sith Lords are willing to tolerate happy accidents?” Another asked, his rhetoric scathing. “C’mon Rook. You’re smarter than that.” He added.

"No one would be stupid enough to piss off the brass on accident." Cactus reasoned. "So either we have a traitor who just kriffed 'em self big time or intruders who've done the same. Either way, you see someone come down this hall, paint the walls red.” He said; his blaster humming as his posture stiffened, body and mind undoubtedly at attention for the Sith Lord who had just turned the corner.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Never a fan of something like this. Coren was a solider, sentinel, the type of being who was determined to cleanse the dark side from around him. He ran into battle, headlong without worrying about back up. He was a fighter and if he wasn’t in a ship, he was fighting more definitely for his survival. Within a spaceship, that was something else. He couldn’t see where he was going, nor could he concentrate on the Force. He was stuck.

What he was hoping for was that the Sith would eventually get frustrated with him, someone would make a mistake, and he could stage his own escape. This was a prison that he thought, was moving. There would be ships here regardless. And if you got Coren Starchaser to a ship?

That old smuggler Jedi was as good as gone! The real trick was getting him to the ship. And without an arm, and the Force, well, he could adapt to a lot, Imperial and recently Alliance training had him working on that. But he wasn’t 100% confident in his abilities as of late. He just needed the right moment. But everything was not going according to plan.

Blast it, Raaf.

 

[Mariel Dawnrider]

There was no comfortable way to sit, to lie down. Everything was pain.

Shaking, moving slowly, Harper tried to roll over, biting back a cry as she did. It was consuming, impossible to ignore, no matter how hard she tried. It left her shuddering and sweating by the time she finally managed it. Trying to relax her body, inch by inch as she rested the side of her face against the hard bunk.

She didn't sleep. She couldn't. But she could doze, just to the edge of dreaming before something would flare and bring her to full wakefulness again. It was a prolonged sort of torture, and Harper didn't know if it was a side effect merely of the pain, or something that one of the multiple injections had done deliberately. She had no idea everything that the Sith had plunged into her blood, sending unknown chemicals racing through her system to wreck havoc. She didn't know if the shivering was from that or simply the after effects of it all.

She wasn't sure it mattered.

It was one of those moments- where she drifted just to the precipice of a dream, but before the pain jerked her back away from that solace and rest- that it came.

Harp?

Her entire body jerked, almost entirely upright and she couldn't bit back the whimper of pain that time. Sitting up, leaning heavily against the wall, barely knowing just how she had gotten that far.

"Al?"

Her voice croaked, cracked and dry, barely a whisper. It echoed in the empty cell, and for a moment she thought that she had imagined it. That whatever he'd injected her with it was causing hallucinations.

And yet?

"I'm here," her voice sounded small, even to her. "I'm here," she tried again, her voice breaking.

[member="Alden Belmont"]

 

[Zef Halo]

Ember trusted Felicity to protect the padawans with her. After Coruscant, Ember became very reluctant in his previous 'dogma' of learning through action thus he felt unwilling to accept any padawans to this insane rescue mission. Yet, the Jedi found out that his closure from the rest resulted in leaving the decision to others. People such as Felicity or Belmont, who he now trusted more than he trusted himself.

He remained frowning contemplating the two choices given before him. Alden seemed almost certain that [member="Harper Kade"] was here which baffled him immensely and made him wonder whether this was just a consequence of missing her. It also brought another question in his mind he had long been pondering over - was this the reason the Jedi of old forbade emotional attachments? It clouded the mind, forced one to act simply on intuition but how many times had Ember seen intuition pay off? Spacers just like [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] more often than not trusted their gut before anything else. Was the intuition the Force's will? The Jedi could not answer nor was it the time to be flooded with questions, he waved them away as he took the decision.

"Anari and I will head to the control center. If we all stack down there we'd be easier targets." Ember explained giving a nodding glance at his friend. "Follow the Force, Alden." He tapped him reassuringly on his hand before turning to Anari.

"Lead the way, Anari." He nodded at her but in his eyes there was a hint of suspicion. "Interesting how much you know about this place."

[member="Anari Mero"] [member="Alden Belmont"]

 

[Felicity Skye]

Doing as she was told, Felicity took a big step back and let Alm break the door down. Watching as Alm’s hammer reeled back and bashed into the durasteel door in front of them, Felicity couldn’t help but be impressed. Alm’s strength was formidable and she seemed proud of it. “You certainly did, Sweetie.” She said almost amazed. The durasteel door was dented and stretched, wrinkles from the point of impact to its corners. And now it was on the ground and giving way to a corridor not unlike what Felicity had expected.

It was dark and drab, common for a prison, but the red lights there were dim and steady, as opposed to bright and flashing. The durasteel walls were insulated too tight making the whole area hot, humid, and stuffy, but the corridor also separated itself from the rest of the complex via silence. There were no alarms on the level. Why? The alarms that were going off in the levels above couldn’t be heard. Why? Felicity would need more to go on before she could answer those questions.

“Be cautious but move quickly. We can’t afford to stay in one place too long. We have a job to do and we must be ready to do it by the time Ember and the others reach control.” She explained. Her lightsaber hissed to life; the yellow blade lit up the dim corridor as Felicity stepped through the open doorway. “Let’s find an elevator. We need to know how low in the Citadel the sewers took us, and from there we can figure out if the detention level is lower or above.” She added before her face shifted to confusion. “Do you hear that?” She looked to Alm.

[member="Alm"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

◄[SIZE=9.9px]◎[/SIZE]►

The map floated in front of Vesper, a three-dimensional ant farm of tunnels, twists, and winding hallways, with flashing red dots - those blasted intruders - inching their way through them, the position occasionally flickering and being updated from the tunnels. Vesper pressed a finger to his lips, content to watch as his hoverchair bore him steadily up an inclined hallway. Constantly moving, several groups, a few alone. No distinct pattern, so it seemed they were searching for something - something specific, someone important. But he couldn't know what, not without bringing an intruder into custody.

After enough blue dots vanished after coming into contact with red dots, he quickly concluded that small groups attacking these forces would not suffice. "Control room," he said as he laid a finger on his comm button, "Have the troops fall back and cluster around defensible points. Group up into teams of at least two squads, and do not attempt active interception - let them come to you. These intruders are of too high a caliber to simply be apprehended."

"Hm. It looks like lowering the blast doors doesn't impede them either - don't close them unless you have eyes on a hostile and can confirm that it will significantly impede them - try to split their groups."

"My lord - a few of the intruders appear to be progressing towards the control room."

"Hm. Not all of them?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well. If any are travelling alone, try to isolate them with ray-shield traps. I'll move to intercept those heading to the control room. If I send a generic distress signal, or if you see a hostile approaching -" he paused, adding an unsubtle command through the power of the Force to his voice, "you will shut the control room off for lockdown, then shoot any personnel with the authority to reactivate it and destroy your code cylinders." Seize a prisoner? Possible. He would not let them seize the prison, however.

"M - my lord, that's -"

"You will do as I say." His voice echoed for a moment, as though others rose behind it, and there was a dark ripple in the Force around him as he bent it to the arc of his iron will.

"I... We will do as you say."

Ah, Imperials. He knew that grinding, conformist education they were put through had a use. So startlingly easy to manipulate. Following the highlighted images of the enemies on the map, he began to move to cut them off, hoping the strategic blast doors and simpler traps would delay them sufficiently.

He did not consider getting off his hoverchair to run, however. These clothes were too nice to sweat in.

He wasn't a barbarian, after all.

◄[SIZE=9.9px]◎[/SIZE]►
​

[member="Anari Mero"], [member="Ember Farseer"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Alden Belmont"], [member="Tarsus"], [member="Harper Kade"], [member="Mishel Noren"], [member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Alm"], [member="Aten Ramses"], [member="Felicity Skye"]​

 

[Warchief Waddles]

After his encounter with the two guards Aten didn’t stop to look back at them, they were armored and considering it was only a bolt each that he deflected back to them they’d only be down for a few minutes at most before catching their breath. His boots hammered against the durasteel flooring as he charged down the hall, blonde ponytail whipping to and fro in the Jedi’s wake. Occasionally Aten looked up to the walls to see what portion of the prison he was in or for any physical map to no avail. Just the cold metal walls that seemed to be unending, the bright lights above illuminating his pathway. Coming to a cross-section Aten whirled around one corner not taking a chance to glance around it, he had no clue how much time he had to reach the imprisoned Jedi. If it had been a squad of guards he’d run into Aten would’ve been dead to rights. Instead, it was a woman.

The air was knocked out of Aten as he also fell to the floor, looking over to the woman who was probably a few years his senior Aten rose to his feet. This woman wasn’t one of the Sith, if she had been Aten would’ve probably leapt straight into a defensive stance, but as he opened himself to the currents surrounding him he felt a slight light from her with a slight gray tinge perhaps a conflict? The presence wasn’t overwhelming like his own Master nor was it one of darkness. She didn’t seem to mean any harm and Aten wasn’t fully aware who she was, he hadn’t been clear on just how many people were infiltrating from different ways. Reaching down and offering his hand Aten decided to try and be cordial. “Come on we don’t have time to be laying in the halls, this isn’t like the Jedi temple.” Aten said a slight smile touching his lips before he heard the sound of approaching boots coming from the hall he’d come from.

“We really don’t have much time!” Considering the woman had come from one way of the intersecting hall, and Aten came from another there was only one direction for them to go. Looking the woman over Aten noticed she was unarmed, if they were to run into any opposition that could possibly lead to complications. Aten was certain he was skilled enough in Soresu to protect himself from blaster bolts but her too was questionable. He’d still have to try. “There’s only one path left to us.”

[member="Mishel Noren"]

 

[Nixia Amabilia]

A charred jacket was the first thing Nixia took notice of when turning the corner. Pretty nice or was, Ruined now. According to the Guards who were attacked the Jedi ran down this hall. Interesting enough Nixia had never been down this way before. Changing pace the Icarii broke into a medium sprint gripping her lightsaber in her right hand. The Jedi couldn't of gotten too far she thought. After all she herself didnt even know the entire layout of the prison she was at by heart, there were still sections she needed a map for and she had been there 2 days now. A map she had on her datapad. "This place needs a makeover... Its so dull looking." She uttered as her eyes took in the metal walls and flooring. The burning desire to change her scenery was almost overwhelming and perhaps she could after this damned incident was over with or maybe she could paint the walls a new shade soon. So far the one thing the Sith and herself agreed on was that anger and hatred is indeed powerful. A spark of rage resided within her heart, for now it was enough for her.

*Tap tap... Tap tap*

Her boots sounded off as she ran. Interesting enough her steps were lighter compared to most, Nevertheless a single drop of sweat rolled from her forehead. Thankfully the Corridor was about to come to an end ahead of her. Splitting of into two paths in the shape of a T. Slowing her pace a choice was going to have to be made soon. Left or right? Hmm. There was really no time to think but within the silence of thinking the answer came.

A voice could be heard the closer the intersection came! Arriving Nixia turned her head and her eyes locked on two bodies. The first being a female on her bum and the other was a young male reaching to help her up it seemed. Both of them seemed frazzled and a tad too alert to be comfortable. They both smelled rather bad and one of them looked like a wild man. " Jedi..." Nixia smirked and giggled to herself. These two looked more like an akward couple than Jedi she thought. Activating her lightsaber the red blade sprang forth. Leaning forward the lightsaber she held away from the two Jedi. Was a horrible stance but how she was comfy standing knowing she had a Light-shield just waiting to be used if needed.

" How romantic. Sweeping a young lass off her feet I see." She joked but oddly held a genuine smile despite the situation. " I could give you some pointers if you need them."

[member="Aten Ramses"]
[member="Mishel Noren"]

 

[Rosalina]

Alm’s prideful high only lasted a moment as she came back down to Lola Sayu and remembered exactly why they were here. This was definitely a dangerous situation, infiltrating a Sith citadel in search of their own captured companions.

She didn’t know them personally, but still.

“Yes.” She agreed quietly. The hammer was held out in front of her reflexively while stepping into the corridor, noting the odd presence it seemed to have. It was…quiet. As any horror holoflick taught Alm, it was too quiet. “We must rescue Corn.” She paused, searching for the name of the woman who’d been captured. “And Rome.” She nearly eyed the lightsaber in jealously as the yellow blade ignited, illuminating the corridor they’d just entered. Alm never had a chance to make one of those and perhaps that was a good thing considering her lack of experience with more delicate weapons.

Another pause as Felicity’s words faded away. A deep, guttural staccato of a growl rumbled in the direction they were heading. The light from Felicity’s saber would catch the eyes of a pair of anoobas slowly prowling forward from the shadows.

“Oh, no.”

[member="Felicity Skye"]

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel's eyes went wide at the Jedi Temple comment.

Rather than reply to him there she merely took his offer of help and got back to her feet. A quick look over him, pony tail, blonde - yeah maybe if Coren was younger and a little wiser. Maybe. "Right," she agreed, and focused a moment to try and find a way to ping Coren but this place. It definitely was putting a number on their own internal sensors, with luck she could find Coren once they rounded the corner. Luck.

Yeah, she'd need it alright the boots that Aten heard were the same sounds that now echoed throughout the corridor. Then she could hear a voice just from behind the pair and the woman must have seen them right as she had gotten up to make that kind of comment. Right, now I get it. "Aw shucks, I bet you say that to all the girls with a pretty face like yours." Mishel was definitely unarmed but she didn't care,"what with that charming smolder, the hey-I'm-a-Sith-let-me-kill-you smile and then whole ghastly pale thing you've got going on. Probably the biggest turn on in the club right next to that Kylo Ren impersonator."

Might not have a lightsaber and the Force might be a bit spotty, but now more than ever the padawan was super happy about those brawls back in the Outer Rim Coalition.

[member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Nixia Amabilia"]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeBNaIQUufo[/media]

 

[Eisenweber]

Anarielle Giala Mero
Lola Sayu, The Citadel, Corridor.

Spoiler

Equipment:

Spoiler

• Backpack
• Golden-Blade Curved-Hilt Lightsaber
• DC-15A Blaster Rifle
• DC-17 Hand Blaster
• Detonation Packs
• Class-A Thermal detonator
• Katarn-Armour Mk. IV [White]
• N-20 Baradium-core thermal detonator
• Security Spikes
• Vocal Emulator

Allies: [member="Alm"] [member="Aten Ramses"] [member="Felicity Skye"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Nixia Amabilia"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Vesper"], [member="Caztihs Krixus"]
Nearby: [member="Ember Farseer"], [member="Alden Belmont"]

Holding the matte black albeit somewhat scratched DC-15 Blaster with its' barrel towards the gunmetal grey floor beneath her armoured boots, the woman's helmet pivots towards Master Alden and offers him a wordless nod; acknowledging his insistence on the use of First Names. Anari had unsuccessfully tried to hold the members of the Praxeum and its' allies at an arms' distance in an attempt not to form attachments or trust, though inwardly the Sephi Engineer knew that eventually she would have to take a proverbial leap of faith and return the trust in kind they would be owed an explanation for her mysterious and secretive behavior. While Ember and Alden conversed Anari raises her rifle and covers the pair of pursed steel door panels on their axis of advance, some maintenance access hatch to her right embedded within the bulkhead wall, they couldn't linger here for long with the turbolifts behind the closed door in front of Anari. Spotting a CCTV Camera nestled in the corner of ceiling where the door's frame and walls meet she quickly moves the fire selector on rifle with thumb and fires a single shot at this monitor sending a loud 'Whrr' sound through the short hallway they currently occupied obliterating that spyglass looming over the Trio. "One person will not have time to release all the prisoners from their cells, the control room where we might be able to open them remotely is our best bet to save everyone here." Pausing for a moment the woman's uncharacteristically masculine voice thanks to that voice emulator nestled in her thoracic region, the perfect disguise combined with the armour looking and sounding like some Clone Trooper even though she stood slightly taller than one. "Master Farseer?" Anarielle wouldn't make the arrogant presumption to command Master Alden stay his course and remain with herself and Ember, Anari did not believe she could dissuade the man anyway there seemed to be something perhaps an attachment drawing him away concluding if true that he was more the fool for permitting them to dictate his actions rather than doing their duty here.

Gesturing Alden towards the narrow maintenance access hatch against the wall to her right, Anari speaks providing some insightful instructions. "Cut open that access hatch, it's a tight squeeze but should descend lower into the sediment and bedrock down into the detention levels. Be warned; there are probably sensors and they'll be tracking your movements looks like the current owners have increased closed-circuit surveillance coverage anyway." Anari's long ears squished tightly against the confines of helmet perceive Ember's footsteps and then she does something that would disturb the force subtly within the room; reaching out calm mentally without breaking her current stance the woman listens to the myriad of thoughts flowing in the next room like the sound of waves steadily crawling up and then receding back from a shoreline. "There are several individuals up ahead, protecting the turbolifts. Master Farseer, please take the advance and cover me? I can return fire safely and advance if you're blocking the incoming shots." It was time to use that tried and true Clone Wars-era tactic she'd seen utilized by the Grand Army and its' Generals time and time again and none could deny the efficacy truly in close-quarters it earned the Republic more than one tactical victory across the war although Anari would never concede the Republic's strategy was superior in its' closing days until the Confederacy Capitulated after their military and senior political leadership was somehow assassinated. Listening to Ember's observation that Anari appeared to somehow posseess intimate knowledge of the facility she'd reply cryptically in a coy tone. "There is a lot of valuable information in old libraries, reading keeps the mind sharp Master Farseer." Anarielle had kept it intentionally vague she wouldn't say more atleast not here, knowing that somebody was eventually going to confront her regarding who she held loyalty towards and why she had been so insistent on secrecy which didn't exactly engender trust Truly, some found it extremely odd that the Sephi woman was willing to help the Praxeum while at the same time holding its' members at an arms' distance refusing them to become more familiar with the Engineer keeping to herself.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Harper Kade"] | [member="Ember Farseer"] | [member="Anari Mero"]

As his echo stretched out within the Force Alden didn't hear anything in return.

Only silence.

Perhaps Alden was a fool, letting himself be guided by his gut, by his emotions and feelings. Maybe while he thought he was listening to the Force... all that he was really listening to was his own heart. The Jedi looked back, catching one more glimpse of Ember and Anari before they disappeared around the corner. There was a struggle within- to stop this nonsense and go to assist Ember.

They'd need it, no-

"I'm here,"

Alden gasped as the whisper reached him, tone cracking with disuse, making it almost impossible for him to hear her. But it was there, the presence for just a moment and Alden seized on it.

In that second the Jedi Knight threw off all the caution, the doubt and let himself feel the Force. "I am coming," Alden murmured back, pushing the thought as hard as he could towards Harper and offering strength, resolve in those words. Perhaps... perhaps it was his heart that the Jedi was following, eyeing that hatch that Anari had showed him.

But then again-

Perhaps the will of the Force spoke truly in surprising ways. It didn't take long, before the hatch was sliced open and then he was one foot in already. Beneath him Alden could almost hear the sizzle of the safety measures enabled by the Imperials just a moment ago. Al grimaced, switching on his personal shield and then tapped the Force within.

It wouldn't be pleasant.

But it should ensure he wouldn't be knocked out or-

A blaster shot dashed right above his head, burning the durasteel wall, glancing over his shoulder he saw the approach of the guards. "No time like the present..." The Jedi mumbled, before throwing caution to the wind and slipping into the chute.

Bumpy painful ride ensued.

 

[LT-137]

THEN​

What began in silence, soon transformed into an orchestra of anguish and violence. In the middle of a spartan chamber, with alabaster walls daubed with dripping trickles of vibrant crimson, there was a man; shackled to the floor. His chest was bared, as the robes that once hung from his shoulders were torn asunder, and painted with the crimson waters that spilled freely from the man’s shattered jaw and a broken nose. What remained of his clothing marked him out as a Jedi, but the symbol that would’ve confirmed his religious persuasion was curiously absent. In fact, the lightsabre that once hung from this figure’s belt was locked behind a retractable wall of steel and secured by gravitic tethers. Now, beaten and broken, this Jedi looked nothing like his supposed heroic persona; instead, the cloth-bound cretin was a shadow of his former self. “You disgrace your Order,” Khonsu stated, as a blood-soiled cloth danced between his taloned fingers. “I thought the Jedi were stronger than this. That they were able to rise above their pain and endure whatever hardships come their way.”

The Sun Guard’s lips curled into a salacious grin. “It seems that the legends about you, and your kind, are nothing more than fables and fiction.” With his darkened flesh cleansed of the life’s water that stained his hands, Khonsu gracelessly discarded the rag; moving towards a nearby table that was littered with dozens of bloodied tools. There was so many for him to choose from, yet all of his choices up until had done nothing more than scouring his captive’s flesh. He wanted answers to a plethora of questions, many of which had gone unasked in the various fits of uncharacteristic rage. However, the man knew that he was meant to be taken in alive, forcing his captor to extract whatever secrets he could at a great cost; giving the golden-clad mercenary a tiny morsel for a dozen slashes. Enough to work him into a rage, perhaps even to take his jealously guarded secrets to the grave.

Thanks to the intervention of others, the Jedi was spared from the Netherworld’s embrace. But, the man barely clung to his life, wheezing through his newfound deformities in a desperate attempt to hold onto what remained of his pathetic existence.

“I’m not in the mood to play these games with you, Jedi” That word, Jedi, slid from his lips like poison seeped from an open sore. The Sun Guard was far from impressed. He claimed to be a Jedi Master; whose skills with a sabre and mastery over the force were renowned throughout the galaxy. Where the mere utterance of their names would quell even the nastiest of civil wars and disputes. While his skills with a blade were formidable, sadly, his mastery over the force was lackluster. He fought with the fury of a cornered wolf, but in the end succumbed to a paralytic toxin that was launched from the Mercenaries knee-plate. Khonsu himself was quite the bladesman, but when pitted against someone who’s had years of training behind the weighted hilt of a lightsabre? The man needed an edge, or seven. So, after they traded blows for what seemed like forever, the Jedi Master was defeated and was subsequently subjected to hours of endless torture at the hands of Legate Amon. Time had a fickle way of bending whenever one’s system was flushed with adrenaline. “You’ll give me what I want, or else I will hand you off to the Sith, and they’ll do my job for me. Granted, I won’t get paid as much, but I’m sure that one of their Inquisitor's would relish an unspoiled challenge,” The Thyrsian chuckled. “Well, in mind rather than body.”

“Is…” The Jedi wheezed, weakly. “Is that all… that I am to you? Credits?”​

Picking up one of the blood caked knives, Khonsu cocked a mischievous brow over his shoulder and eyed his wounded prey. “What did you think you were? Dinner? No, no, no, my dear Jedi. As much of a reputation as my people have for drinking the ‘waters’ of the dead, I fear that yours would be too salty, or too poor for my needs.” His words were rife with a rueful mirth. There were many rumours about his people, the Scions of Thyrsus, that painted them as blood drinkers and carrion eaters. That they drained the corpses of their friends, their family, and even their enemies, in order to sustain themselves on their world of sand and dunes. That whatever remained, after the water of life was drained, was consumed in order to nourish the body with salted meat. That wasn’t entirely true. Many Thyrsian’s quenched their thirst with imported water or feasted on the many fruits of the desert in order to feed their bodies. However, it was the smaller tribes, those that populated the Sea of Thirst, who painted their entire species in a poor light.

For when one was surrounded by nothing but sand, and to waste a resource as precious as water was akin to sacrilege, anything akin to civilized morals was tossed out in the name of survival.

“I’ll forget your name as soon as we part ways, and whatever you were and whatever you may become - will matter little to me. I care not from whence you hail, or how many summers you’ve seen. I care not that you’ve climbed the celibate ladder of your religious coven, or that you’ve earned the right to carry a lightsabre.” Khonsu placed the bloodied blade down, and seemingly glided across the crimson-spattered floor towards his golden vestments. Once within reach, the Sun Guard began replacing the presented armour and sealing himself within his powered suit. “No, Jedi,” the Thyrsian stated mere seconds after the atmospheric hiss of pressurization echoed throughout the chamber.

“You’re nothing more than another job to me.”​

NOW​

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It was supposed to be a simple transfer. He was supposed to be guided into the planet’s orbit, and towards the surface facility thereafter. Once his vessel had touched down and the guards within had come out to meet him, the Sun Guard would’ve grabbed what remained of the Jedi, and thrown him to the wolves - so that they may have their fill. Feasting on whatever morsels lingered within his shattered form. Khonsu was surprised that the Jedi held out for as long as he did, before succumbing to his wounds and falling unconscious. Seven fractured ribs and four broken fingers. A shattered nose and a compound fracture along the length of his skull. Three severed toes, and several sections of flensed skin and fibrous muscle. Hell, there was even an eye missing - replaced by a smouldering hole where the plasma-heated callipers had done their sadistic work.

However, after he had yanked the broken shell from his shackles and brought him outside, everything had gone to Chaos in a handbasket. The Citadel’s guardians had started screeching about a team of infiltrators breaching the supermax’s quarantine protocols, seeking to extract several of the occupants within. Those on the platform, including the mystified Sun Guard, were wondering how these agents were able to slip so far in without being detected and what they had done to trip the alarm.

Khonsu couldn’t help but shake his head. Everywhere he had gone and taken roost, there seemed to be something amiss. When he was collecting Kolto, it seemed that he was caught in a maelstrom of violence - even his ship had not escaped the coming storm. Vandalized and marked by strange, almost childish patterns that spoke of their immature desires for adventure amidst the chaotic stars. It was admirable in a way, but that didn’t stop the Mercenary from ceaselessly cursing their existence as he scrubbed the exterior hull with several cleaning agents. Now, it seemed, as he was delivering a Jedi captive to the world of Lola Sayu and the Citadel thereafter, that such tumult erupted in his wake.

Throwing the broken meatbag into the arms of a nearby Sith Trooper, the Sun Guard requested access to the facility and to the Sith-Imperial battlenet thereafter. When the entreaty had been granted, the interior of his helm filled with the voices of various security teams and their overseers. Naturally, there were channels that were still restricted, but it would allow for him to gather what information he needed in order to assist the local garrison and hunt down these infiltrators.

Today was going to be a good, and profitable day.​

 

[Romi Jade]

LOLA SAYU​

Torture Cell, The Citadel​

WITH: [member="Darth Ophidia"]​

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Spoiler

[youtube]https://youtu.be/tkrvSj7rc-4[/youtube]

Her subconscious sunk...and sunk.

From some outer perspective, it was as if she could see herself drowning in a sea of nothing; she for sure couldn't breath. Though when the deafening silence rung louder in her ears she felt a subtle beat off into the distance.

Her arms and legs flung and kicked in a frantic dance, but there was still that beat. It grew.

Then at once life hit her; her eyes shot open while she gasped for air. Immediately she was deflected by the pain coursing through her bodies. She realized the sick symphony playing in the background...

The stench of the solution laced her noise still...lingering.

Heaving, she sucked up enough rage to attempt to lash out at her torturer, but that brought more pain as the resistance proved futile.

"1...2..." she mused in her head

Argghhh

"3...4..."

She was wide awake now...counting silently to herself in order to trick her own mind and deaden the pain.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The Jedi was not liking this at all. He knew he could rise above the torture. He was knowing this goal of his. To keep working against the Sith and keep them focused on him. The more they were dealing with him they more they were not torturing the other Jedi. He felt his body moved, knocked and pushed. A door opened, or he thought he heard a door open.

A moment later, the one thing that Coren Starchaser knew, he was sitting in a cell. It was dark. It was cold. And hot. It was too bright. He did not care for the way the Sith were keeping everyone here. But for now? They had to focus on it.

He had to overcome the prison. Maybe he could get himself out of here.

 

[Felicity Skye]

Felicity agreed with the sentiment as the pair of anoobas crept forward slowly. She was familiar with their kind having once outrun a pack in the dune sea of Tatooine years before. She’d only managed to escape by the skin of her teeth then, but she was much stronger now. Although that would hardly matter here. As the lightsaber’s yellow tones fell on their eyes they reflected back a crimson red, and Felicity had reasoned. These creatures were not the same she remembered. Twisted by the dark side and the influence of their masters these creatures had grown bold. These creatures had gone against nature and took to the nurturing of their Sith subjugators. Anoobas stuck to hunting smaller prey, which Felicity was not, and Alm even further from. Anoobas were pack animals as well, always finding strength in numbers. Two vs Two could be considered unfair odds, or so Felicity thought.

As a series of growls echoed through the corridor Felicity lowered her stance. The Way of the Krayt Dragon had always served her well and instinctually she dropped into it. She closed her eyes as sight would only hold her back in the dim corridor. She couldn’t “see” much but she certainly “felt” her surroundings, albeit foggily. She could feel life, tainted and present. “The anoobas, gathered in groups of two throughout the level’s halls. Do you feel it?” She noted to the Nasvalo. “Tread carefully, Alm. Lest we be chum in the water.”

Felicity raised her lightsaber, point to the creatures ahead, as she stepped forward slowly. The male anooba mimicked as the female kept her eyes on Alm. The male gnashed his teeth and puffed his chest, a declaration of battle usually given by the Alphas of a pack. Felicity mimicked back, and then it was off to the races.

The male had pounced claws out, maw agape, and it’s long tail over it’s head for defense. It’s hind legs were strong making the attack faster than Felicity was used to. She sidestepped looking for an opportunity to kill, a wound would only result in yelps and screams, and an alert to the rest of the pack. It pained Felicity but at this point it was shoot to kill, and would be for the rest of her time in the Citadel. And with that the opportunity to strike came as fast as it went but as the male pounced a second time she anticipated the moment and cut him in halves at the waist. “Return to the force.” She whispered to herself, her lightsaber hissing off, hum and light gone with the moment.

[member="Alm"]