Junction Event Horizon | GA & SO Junction of Terijo and Orax

[Kasir Dorran]

Darth Moskvin

Vulpesen | Gavin Restur

​

Tension clung to the air as they arrived, thick and suffocating. Even with his inhuman senses, Kasir too, could taste it, feeling it prickling against his skin like tiny needles. The air here was musty, damp, as though the wind carried the scent of blood, teasing his craving for sustenance.

Above him, the storm continued to rage, bolts slicing the sky, casting light upon this doomed world.

But beneath that, darkness reigned.

Rain crept like mournful tears down Kasir's obsidian armor, soaking into his cloak, pooling into the ground below with each stride. Soon, he came upon the edge of broken walls, his gaze settling on the glow of what remained of the settlements. The remnants of the Galactic Alliance lingered there, growing desperate as the Sith were preparing to move in fully.

So long had he been accustomed to hunting alone—his presence often waiting in the silent abyss before a kill, death lingering on his breath, as was the nature of his work as a Darkseeker. Now, another walked beside him. But in this moment, he was not alone, for beside him walked another of his kind—a Sangnir whose presence had once been a disruption but now felt like a reflection of something deeper within himself.

The ominous weight of their kind seeped into the soil, into the trees.

Takodana would hold its breath now.

Paler than those who stalked Dathomir, Kasir’s features were as infamous as they were surprising; from faded crimson lips that seldom smiled, to eyes that seemed to swallow light, until their depths swam with embers, and so often gleamed with a predatory glare.

Stares followed as the stranger approached what was rightfully theirs to claim; to him, these entities were little more than starving vermin, eager to devour his essence—though unaware of how truly undeserving they were. Unhurried, he let them fully absorb the presence of a creature who cavorted with killers—one known to crush any who dared oppose Darth Strosius with brutal efficiency, when elimination was deemed necessary.

The Sith's hand slid slowly to his side, fingers coiling around the hilt of the ceremonial dagger, its blade a wicked tongue. With controlled precision, he drew the weapon from its sheath, savoring the ritual as the metal whispered seductively against the sheath; it was a symphony that echoed in the hollow depths of his being.

"There is beauty in destruction. Let us create something divine."

The words seeped into the air like venom, lingering with detachment.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival
Objective 2



The chamber sang with impact.

Anchor met heel. Metal screamed against monolithic phrik. Sparks scattered like shooting stars across the ancient floor, and Serina's advance shuddered—not from pain, but from the sheer audacity of it.

She slid back—not sprawling, not stumbling. No. Her frame twisted, catching balance in an arc of cape and armor, eyes tracking Reina like a machine calculating a variable too bold to ignore.

The six violet lenses flared.

And then—stillness.

For a single, unbearable moment, Serina Calis was a statue in obsidian and wrath, the world compressed into a single point of judgment. Her clawed gauntlet flexed open at her side. Her exposed hand, pale and inked, curled in an unseen rhythm. One beat behind Reina's breathing. Two behind her resolve.

"You dare use that thing against me?" she asked softly, voice like silk choking a throat.

The Anchor.

The prosthetic.

Serina's helm tilted as she stared down at the offending limb—not in fear. Not even in fury. But in perverse fascination. That was Reina's rebellion? Her evolution? She had grafted steel to soul and thought herself changed? She thought herself stronger?

"Oh, little shield," Serina whispered. "You keep trying to replace the parts of you I broke."

The lights above flickered—once. Not because of any tremor. Not because of the ancient power stirring below. But because Serina's grip on the Force, on rage, began to crest.

Her fingers twitched. The Force howled.

And as Reina raised Pequod, bringing it down in that steady, decisive Falling Avalanche, Serina did not flinch.

She stepped into it.

The blow landed—monumental. Final. A full arc of silver wrath crashing down on Serina's shoulder with the fury of a cleansing fire.

And it met Tyrant's Embrace.

The armor sang. A deep, resonant note as blade met phrik, a clash so loud it cracked the air. Sparks bloomed, brilliant and useless. The shoulder pauldron caught the strike clean—the curved, layered phrik flaring violet for a brief instant as the glyphs etched along it absorbed and diffused the saber's heat.

It didn't yield.

Not a dent. Not a fracture.

Only that same soft hum from the crystal embedded in her chest—like a heartbeat savoring its symphony.

And Serina smiled beneath the helm.

"You mistake all of this, Reina."

She moved, suddenly, not with a swing or a strike—but a lunge. One hand shot forward, not to block, not to strike, but to grasp.

She didn't go for the saber arm.

She wrapped her bare, inked hand around the prosthetic leg.

The Anchor.

Her fingers closed with supernatural precision around the joint just above the knee—cold phrik against colder skin. Her eyes glowed with psychic fire, and the Force rushed in.

No words.

Just rage.

It exploded through her—a controlled detonation of hate, betrayal, lust, and vengeance. Not the mindless fury of beasts, but something infinitely colder, infinitely worse: Force Rage, turned inward, then channeled outward like a blade.

Her body didn't bulge. Muscles didn't swell.

Instead, her will did.

The Force bent around her like a storm caving inward. Stone cracked beneath their feet. Dust lifted from the altar. The crystal in her chest blazed hot white for a fraction of a second, and Serina pulled.

She didn't just attempt to yank the prosthetic.

She commanded it to separate. She willed it.

To tear it from Reina's body.

To break the fusion.

To expose that she had not grown—she had patched.

"You call it your anchor," she hissed. "But it's just a leash. A reminder that you never truly stood on your own."

The strain in the Force screamed. Every inch Serina pulled was backed by focused rage amplified by the raw might of her intellect. She wasn't trying to make Reina fall.

She was trying to rip away her evolution.

To force regression.

 

[Lúthien Tinúviel]

Objective II: Secure Takodana
Equipment: Sword | Dagger | Hidden Blade (Left Arm) | Prosthetic Right Arm | Armor | Hair Pin | Face | Drugs
Tags: Darth Strosius | Open

Holding aloft the blade, soft sparks laced races its length. Slowly but surely, the blade faded from my hand. The energy it created was gone, and the blade was replaced with nothing in my hand. Yet, I still felt it. Hiding it beneath its waves of the Current. An aspect of the force very few knew of, and even less practiced. Looking to the blighted wings of my mentor, how they unfurled in our kinds magnificence. I grew envious of such ability. My ability to perform such skills and feats was limited due to my arm. Preventing me from fully taking my Warriors skill. Instead, I would be the unseen blade of the Monstrosity before me.

His actions would draw attention. His presence would spread fear, and I would enact that fear. Tilting my head, a couple cracks came from it. Releasing what pent up feelings I had. Breathing in, I reached to my satchel. Pulling out a small device. Only about the size of my palm. I let my thumb turn the little rotation ring on the device before placing it against my exposed neck. Feeling the familiar sharp pain of the needle before it completely disappeared.

Mere seconds it took for this dark and dreary feeling of having to work again, was replaced with a sense of glee and gayness. My face contorted into a smile. Twisting and breaking the formation of my face. Yet my eyes showed pain as if smiling was a new concept to me. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as we moved on. Twisting and continuing to laugh without intending to do so. My heart raced and my happiness and unadulterated joy was abounding within me. I felt so at ease and in control.

"Hmmmm. Oh the world before us needs to burn. As they say, burn the bridge once we get there."

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Takodana
Tags: Darth Virelia
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor Destroyed

"You did not break that. You overestimate your effect on me."

Serina did have an effect on Reina. In the past. She had cared for the Sith. But not anymore. And Serina was proving why. Her Ego. She believed herself to be better than the rest. Proven by Serina taking claim over something she didn't do. She didn't remove Reina's leg. She didn't convince Reina to make the Anchor. And whilst Reina had made it to fix that part of herself, others had helped Reina to realise she wasn't broken. The Force helped her to stay whole. The Force was her ally as she brought Pequod down onto Serina's shoulder...only for it to do nothing. It wasn't just Phrik Reina was up against. Those sigils. The Glyphs. Those were an unknown. Something Reina couldn't go against. Another thing that only helped to make a difference between Reina and Serina.

The crystal. That must have been something powering the armour. How was she meant to break through it? She didn't have the same strength as Serina. Especially as the Sith rushed forward to grab onto the Anchor, and Reina could feel the metal starting to buckle almost immediately under the strength of the Rage coursing through Serina's body. The fragile casing used to keep the spear point of the Anchor shattering out in dozens of pieces, some of which came shooting past Reina, slicing into her skin leaving relatively superficial cuts. The Force flowing through her. That was Reina's chance as she focused on Serina, trying to focus on the workings of Serina's body. There was a high likelihood that the Dark Side was enhancing her biology, the way her muscles worked, the way her blood flowed...but Reina hoped there was enough natural biology in there for what she had planned.

Reina tried to turn Serina's own bodily functions against her. As Serina was letting the Force flow through her, Reina was trying to manipulate it. It wasn't her usual line of attack. Reina had always focused on the physical, or using the Force to enhance herself. Using it to influence another person? To disorientate them? It wasn't something that had ever peaked her interest but she knew she'd have to use everything at her disposal to get that single drop of blood she wanted. As she focused on using Malacia on Serina, Reina then went forward with the next part of her plan.

To put it simply, it wasn't a smart plan. As Serina pulled on the Anchor, as the metal bent and buckled under the Rage of the Dark Side, Reina brought Pequod up into the air and slashed it through the connective pieces fusing it to Reina's blood. Almost instantly pain rushed through Reina's body as the nerves felt as if they were actually served, burning pain shooting through her body that she used the Force to Endure. She had hoped that Serina's momentum would carry the woman backwards. Hopefully in combination with Malacia, it would cause her to stumble.

As she removed the Anchor from her body, Reina also threw herself backwards in a show of acrobatics. Using the Force to push herself up off the ground and into a flip through the air before landing on her remaining leg. The practice she had put into Ataru when she had first lost her leg was coming back in usefulness. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't as if Reina was suddenly gaining confidence. She knew she was on the backfoot. That she was losing. But she was also proving that she could still stand on her own.

"You act as if you still know me Calis. But you don't. You think I'd hold onto my Anchor. That it keeps me afloat. It doesn't."
​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival
Objective 2



The pain, the blood, the gleam of sparks falling like red snow around them—Serina breathed it in.

Not literally. Her helm kept her sealed, but something in her essence inhaled the suffering like incense. The Force shuddered as Reina severed her own limb, the kind of self-mutilation that begged for meaning. It dared Serina to be impressed.

And for a moment, she was.

The girl's scream—not of agony, but transcendence—rippled through the temple like a triumphant wail in a cathedral to madness.

The prosthetic was gone. Torn free. Blood ran down her leg in stark ribbons, and Reina flipped backward like a shard of silver caught in a storm. A solo meteor defying gravity.

But the Force trembled in that moment with something else.

Something Serina felt.

Like hands reaching toward her from within Reina's will.

A twisting. A targeting. Malacia.

Serina didn't need to see the attempt. She knew it by how the air cooled, how the tremor passed through her armor like a whisper trying to become a scream.

And then—nothing.

The glyphs across Tyrant's Embrace lit in a cascading spiral from her spine to her throat, drinking in the malice, nullifying it. Not bending it. Not breaking it. But refusing it.

Like an altar that rejected an unworthy sacrifice.

She didn't even flinch.

Instead, she looked up, slow and deliberate, violet lenses glinting with crystalline clarity. Like a god who had just watched someone pray incorrectly.

Silence.

And then:

"No."

Serina's voice was calm now. Terrifyingly calm.

"It dragged you down."

She stepped forward once—slow, reverent. The sound of her heel cracked the ancient stone. Not rushed. Not even confrontational.

Inevitable.

"You mistake my interest, Reina," she continued, voice low and melodic now, weaving itself into the walls. "I never wanted to know you. Not really. I wanted to rewrite you."

The glyphs flared again across her breastplate and backplate, now rippling like breath. She moved forward again, cape coiling behind her like a living tide of silk and durasteel.

"And gods, I nearly did."

Her words were growing softer now, closer. Each one curling against the edge of thought. Against the raw skin of Reina's memory.

"I could have made you perfect. You, and your fury, and that... misguided need to save people who never deserved you."

Her hand raised.

Not fast.

Not aggressive.

Like a lover brushing hair from a cheek.

And with no more ceremony than a sigh, she surged with Force Speed.

A blur. A whisper. A command.

She didn't strike. She didn't lash out. She simply appeared—inches from Reina's front, as if the distance had evaporated under her gravity. The violet glow of her helm lit Reina's face with six mirrored eyes, watching her from every angle. A web of gaze. A trap of sight.

Hypnotic in its beauty.

And then—

Her hand was attempting to grab Reina's throat.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Takodana
Tags: Darth Virelia
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor Destroyed

"No. You've dragged me down."

Any and all of her plans were falling around her. There wasn't any technique Reina could do to get past that armour. Her Lightsaber wasn't good enough. There was no water she could manipulate. The wind could not help her now. Nothing could help her now. But that was fine to Reina. She had bitten off more than she could chew. She knew that from the beginning. The difference in her and Serina's strength wasn't something that could be put into words. It couldn't be counted. But with all that being said, Reina didn't flinch. She did not budge. If this was to be how she fell, how she died...then Reina would be content with it. Closing her eyes for a moment to think to herself. To think of apologises that she'd never be able to say.

Master Issar...I should have listened to you more. I am far too hasty...I'm sorry.
Master Colette...I should have learned more from you. Learned how to fight from you. I'm sorry.
Everest...You stopped me going down a lonely path. There's still so much...I want to tell you. I'm sorry.

Reina had nothing. There was no way for her to get past the armour. To get that drop of blood Reina had so desperately wanted to get. That was her downfall. She wanted revenge. She wanted blood. Her wrath had ultimately been fruitless. Serina had been right about that. She took in a steady breath. But that's when Serina said it.
​

"You mistake my interest, Reina," she continued, voice low and melodic now, weaving itself into the walls. "I never wanted to know you. Not really. I wanted to rewrite you."

It was almost as if a switch had been flipped in her mind. A grin spreading across her face. That was exactly what she had needed to hear. Serina never wanted to know who she was. She wanted to remake her. She had never cared about who Reina truly was. That was what Reina needed to cut any emotions she felt towards Serina. Reina had been willing to give up...but the fight had been ignited inside of her once more.

The Fire inside her heart had been relit, as she focused on the crystal within her Lightsaber. Using the connection to the Wind of Change crystal, to throw herself off to the side as Serina used the Force to advance on Reina. It was as if a breeze from nowhere had shoved Reina, as she collapsed down on the ground. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting as she used the Force to pull the remains of the Anchor to her hands. This was it.

She focused on the Force, letting it coalesce into her palm, as she aimed the Anchor at Serina. It was a last ditch effort. It wouldn't work. She knew it wouldn't. But that didn't stop her as she released the Force unleashing a Push that sent the sharpened Cortosis directly at Serina's chest, at similar speeds to a slug shot through a Slugthrower. It was a makeshift weapon. A one use Slug. No matter what happened, the Anchor would shatter into pieces fully...but it wouldn't hold her down any longer.

​

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival
Objective 2



The world held its breath.

It was the sound first—the shriek of metal being dragged back into the fight, the haunted echo of Cortosis shards scraping against stone, lifted by an unseen force and Reina's final surge of will. The ruined Anchor, warped and bloodied, trembled in her grasp like a dying thing with one last howl to give.

And then, she threw it.

Not like a weapon. Like a curse.

The Force howled as it surged forward, compressed into a violent singularity of momentum. The spearpoint of Cortosis screamed through the chamber with the speed of a slugthrower, the Force accelerating it beyond natural limits. Reina's blood was still wet on the shard. Her pain. Her truth.

And it hit.

Direct center—right over the pulsing crystalline node at Serina's sternum.

The detonation was silent.

No explosion. No fire. Just a pulse. Like the breath before collapse.

The crystal embedded in Tyrant's Embrace flared one last time, violet light swallowing the room in a blinding flash—and then died. The impact cratered the breastplate slightly, just enough to crack the armor's internal housing and shatter the crystal within.

Silence.

Falling ash from the ceiling. The faint scent of ozone.

And Serina staggered.

A single step.

Her left leg slid back for balance, her gauntlet flexing open and closed reflexively. Her lenses dimmed—then reignited one by one, like eyes blinking through rebirth.

The Force... recoiled. As if something had torn. Not from her. But from what had anchored her armor's greater design. That crystal—drawn from the Celestial Archive, a keystone of protection, of memory, of the screaming dead—was gone.

Her helm tilted downward, staring at the fracture in her chestplate. Tiny veins of black crystal dust glittered where the core had once pulsed.

As she looked up again, something in her had changed.

No more amusement.

No more distant cruelty.

Now, there was ownership in her gaze. The kind that did not mock. The kind that claimed.

She stepped forward.

One step.

Then another.

The chamber trembled—not with Force power, but with the silence that followed the end of a storm. Her armor still glowed faintly, the runes functioning, but her aura had sharpened. Without the crystal's diffusion, her presence in the Force was no longer smoothed or veiled—it was razor-edged, uncontained.

Like she had been unleashed.

Before Serina spoke, the air around Reina shifted—tightened. Without gesture, without warning, an invisible hand coiled around her throat. The pressure was immediate and surgical, as if the atmosphere itself had turned to glass and was being pulled inward. No anger radiated from Serina as she invoked the Force—it was intimate, calculated, precise. Her eyes burned like starfire behind the mask, watching every twitch of Reina's defiance with a scholar's fascination and an absolute hunger. The attempted Force Choke wasn't meant to kill, not even to maim—it was a claim, a reminder that even breath could be taken away on a whim. The squeeze was slow, sensual in its cruelty, just enough to rob the edges of Reina's control.

"You destroyed something priceless," she murmured, approaching Reina. "And I could kill you for it. End this now."

Her voice drifted into a whisper.

"But I'm not going to."

She lowered herself—slowly—kneeling in front of Reina, face just inches from hers. The violet lenses of her helm studied the girl's face with hypnotic calm. Her claws, still bloodied, reached out—not to strike—but to gently touch Reina's jaw.

Not cruelly. Tenderly.

"I'm going to break you."

The words didn't strike like a whip. They wrapped around Reina's thoughts, sliding in like silk-draped chains—warm, inevitable, and utterly binding.

"Not in body," Serina continued, her voice low and smooth, rich with the confidence of someone who knew how the story ended. "Not today. No, little flame. That would be too easy. You're far too interesting for that. Too raw. Still unwritten."

She moved closer—closer than comfort allowed. Her presence was not just near; it invaded. It slipped through every mental barrier, coiled into the warm recesses of memory and want, and made itself at home.

"I'm going to crack your soul open," she whispered, her tone a lover's confession spoken in a funeral dirge. "Peel back every stubborn scrap of defiance. Every protest. Every breath of yours that doesn't already carry my name."

One of her taloned gloves lifted, but it didn't strike. It hovered near Reina's cheek, and then—so gently—the bare fingers brushed away a streak of blood with something resembling tenderness.

"You'll feel it," she murmured, voice sinking into Reina's ears like the hush of silk over bare skin. "Every second. Not with pain."

Her thumb traced the line of Reina's jaw, leaving no mark—only the haunting impression of a touch meant to echo long after its departure.

"But with need."

That last word vibrated like a secret exhaled against the skin of one's neck. Not shouted. Offered. Like a promise whispered in the dark.

"You'll dream of me."

She leaned in until the violet glow of her lenses bathed Reina's face in soft, haunting light. The heat of her body—more than human, wrapped in armor and sheer will—radiated in waves, making the air itself feel thicker, sweeter, wrong.

"You'll wake up with the taste of my voice in your mouth," she said, her tone dipped in lust and certainty, like she was describing a future memory Reina would soon come to crave.

Then Serina's helm tilted, one lens lowering to lock directly onto Reina's eyes. Every breath the girl took now was shared in the same shrinking space between them. There was nowhere to go—only into her. Only down.

"You think I don't care who you are?" she asked, softly, intimately.

"You're right."

Her fingers lingered—just long enough to feel the shiver of breath beneath skin. Then they withdrew, slowly, as if drawing heat from Reina's very soul.

"I don't want Reina the woman. I don't want your story. Your tears. Your righteous anger. I want the end of all that."

She paused, and her voice dropped to a whisper so quiet it almost didn't reach the air:

"I want Reina the servant. Reina the confessor. Reina, stripped of lies, of titles, of pride…"

She leaned even closer—so close the modulator static hummed against Reina's lips as Serina exhaled.

"…kneeling, not because I forced her—but because she wants to."

Her words turned liquid now, dripping with wicked seduction, with a promise that felt too sweet, too close to the truth not to terrify.

"You'll beg me for absolution in time. And when you do…"

The Force shifted.

Not like a weapon.

Like a perfume. Like the scent of something forbidden—but familiar. It coiled around Serina's body, no longer just an aura, but a siren call. It radiated not hatred—but inevitability. The gravity of one who had chosen to become the center of someone else's collapse.

"…you'll beg beautifully."

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Takodana
Tags: Darth Virelia
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor Destroyed

It had worked.

It hadn't drawn blood, but it had caused an effect on the Sith. She might not have been able to draw Serina's blood, but drawing her Wrath was almost as satisfying. Reina might have lost a part of herself, but Serina had lost something so much more important. Reina wasn't priceless. She wasn't worth anything. But from how Serina was reacting, that crystal was priceless. More pettiness under Reina's belt. Pride almost. Of course, Reina knew that she wouldn't win this battle. But for her, the war she had was a win in her book. She had managed to have an impact. Even if it might be the last thing she had done.

Then she felt it. The cold grip of the Force around her throat, as her hands made her way there. She wouldn't scratch at her throat for air. She wouldn't beg. Serina had been unleashed and Reina was taking a...grim satisfaction in it. Serina was showing her true colours. The lack of warmth. The manipulation. It had proven to Reina how naive she had been. How her belief in redemption for the Temptress was foolish. If they were to ever be friends, it would have to be in the next life. For in this one, they were doomed to be enemies. Serina wanted Reina to submit, to buckle beneath her, whereas Reina would rather die than to have any of that happen. She would never kneel beneath the Temptress in exchange for herself. Even as her lungs screamed for air, begged for some form of oxygen, Reina didn't beg. She didn't kneel.

Like usual, Serina's words were preparing to sneak their way into her ears. Into Reina's very soul. But unlike in the past, when Reina had been willing to listen to Serina's words, in the hope that it could help in redemption, she no longer listened to it. Instead she reached for the Force. She couldn't use it to attack, she couldn't dull the pain...so that was going to make what she was about to do immensely painful. She focused on the faint breeze of the wind around them, ignoring the sensation of Serina's hand along her jaw, as she turned her eyes onto the glowing lenses of Serina's helm.
​

"I'm going to break you."

Through the choking, Reina's face slowly twisted in an expression of gritted teeth and defiance. The one upside of being unable to breathe? Serina wouldn't be able to take pleasure in Reina screaming in pain as she used the Force to enhance the breeze of the wind. Concentrated. Pressurised. And sent it flowing directly into her ears, increasing the pressure until her eardrums ruptured. Waves of pain and agony wracked through Reina as she lost her hearing. A sign of pure pettiness. Serina wanted Reina to listen to her words? Reina would remove her ability to listen. The rest of Serina's words would go unheard to Reina as she tensed up in pure agony. Biting down on her tongue and drawing blood as she tried to fight through the pain. Her eyes welling up with tears as her face was scrunched up in pain and suffering. Losing her leg wasn't as painful as this. At least with the leg, she had passed out...

The darkness would come soon and embrace Reina's consciousness at the very least. With the Force constricting around her throat, Reina's vision was darkening. But there was one last thing she had to do. One last way to prove her defiance to Serina. To drive the Sith crazy. Even as Serina was tender in her own cruel way, Reina turned her eyes upon the visor ahead of her. Oh, how much she wished to be able to see Serina's face at what she was about to do. Using the blood from her bitten tongue, and what air she had left in her mouth, she spat. A glob of the liquid being shot directly at the visor. It wouldn't do much. It was just one final act of defiance from the Woman who expected this to be her final act. Her final moment...At least that was what she expected...

Aadihr Lidos​

 

[Nodak]

Takodana Lost
Vera Noble | Aris Noble​

---

The Trees stretched onwards and upwards, seemingly endlessly.

A Vision. Not his doing but synced with his mind. A Face, he did not recognized but that he looked back at through their connection.

She saw him and he had seen her.

The Spire, a twisting and burnt out structure. Vegetation hung from its framework. Purged of life but not of purpose. It had been something once, stretching high atop the canopy of the forest.

At its pinnacle, open air hundreds of feet above the forest. The end of the trail.

He stepped to the edge of the terrace, clad in armor. An imposing figure to anyone who could see him. The Monster towered over normal men and was thicker than them as well.

His Shield was set down beside him and Nevermourne, the mace hung over his hip easy to retrieve.

Reaching up, his fingers splaying he'd set his hands over his helm before an audible hiss was heard as it depressurized and unlocked itself. Lifting it off his head he'd have tossed it down beside him, when it struck the steel of the flooring beneath his feet it would sound a familiar 'clunk'. Without his helm the face of the Beast could be seen in all its monstrous countenance.

Eyes narrowed, nose crinkled as he stared out across the forest far below...

"I can see you, Little Star."

...his voice was guttural, more bestial than mechanical now that he'd thrown down his helm...

"Can you see me?"

...he couldn't sense her brother, he had no skill when it came to visions but he could feel the different presences in the force. She had seen the trail, she only need follow it a little longer. He would wait for her in the Spire she'd seen.

 

[Davorin Orsava]

Objective II: Takodana Lost
Ivalyn Yvarro
​

As the smoke twirled and twisted around him in a violent cadence, Davorin knew this was where he belonged. Not by chance, not by obligation, but by purpose. He had committed himself long ago to a higher cause, and this moment, this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Swift.

Surgical.

Unseen.

The task at hand was a success, carried out with precision and without attracting any unnecessary attention. But he also knew, once this day was over, the weight would finally settle. The ghosts of his choices would return, as they always did.

An encrypted confirmation flashed across his comm-link, for the Golden Flame had secured the target location--yet, even without the message, Davorin could sense it in the air that surrounded them now, thrumming with energy like a harbinger of darker things to come. His leather boots were rooted firmly on the ground, electricity crackling beneath his fingertips, coursing through his veins like a potent stimulant. Years of skill honed-in the art of stealth, he had prowled the shadows earlier with grace, relying on experience to serve him well.

A long exhale escaped his lips, ruffling his tousled raven locks as he ran his hand through them. Countless years had been poured into his studies, his mind a fountain of knowledge for sacred texts and the wisdom of light and harmony. But in moments such as these, any veil of illusion that still remained was stripped away, forcing him to confront a different reality.

Balance was a word spoken in the temples back home on Dosuun,

And harmony was something pondered over prayer.

Action was what shaped the galaxy. He was the hand that wielded it, his skill beyond many, having been drenched in the crimson of duty on countless occasions.

Soon he saw another figure striding forward. Not once had he ever questioned the Grand Vizier’s path; rather, he did his best to ensure that it was carried forward, his loyalty never in question. This was not the first time Davorin had seen her.

Now, he waited, poised for the next set of commands. Whether it be service to the Sith, eliminating remnants of any fallen Galactic Alliance, or tightening the Commonwealth’s grip upon Takodana, it mattered not.

 

[Thilarii Altinova]

Objective III — Eyes in the Dark

Maw cluster – Sanval company, 139th Commando Regiment

Allies: The Vulptex + OPEN
Hostiles: OPEN


Always open to write! Come on down and break some teeth!

​

The captain and the commandos of Anaconda and Basilisk fireteams were operating together on this mission. The other kickers of the Sanval company were off doing their own thing. It'd been a while since the 139th came together for a mission like this, and their presence alone already set most at ease. At any moment, a hundred commandos could have dropped everything just to kick your teeth in, it wasn't a comforting thought for those in the know.

Stood amongst the seven operators under his direct command, his team inserted by way of U-Wing slipping under the radar like a passing breeze. In truth, they were being tested for something important on behalf of an unknown benefactor, however such would have been business as usual. Over secure lines the captain reached out to the SIA direct action spooks who beat them to the punch, motioning to one Lieutenant Olena Kosenko, their Communications officer who got to work keeping the line secure while in use.

"Ghost, this is Dragon actual on station. Teams moving to position now across the play. Off to primary, keep you posted, over."

Short, sweet, and effective commutation is what kept units like theirs in the game. Waiting no longer than a moment for their response, Thilarii cut and burned the line, having Kosenko secure another to ensure safe transmissions. Moving up to the cockpit, he gazed out the window from behind the captain's seat, watching as their landing zone closed into sight. Turning over to the operators awaiting their deployment, a short call to action was spoken.

"Alright folks listen up! We've got it easy today, setting up relay stations hidden out of sight so we can track ol' red eye. We've got extra ravens today, enough for everyone! Set your stations and get to watching, we're relaying information until exfil post operation."

With a return sound off, Thilarii joined the commandos out to drop, throwing open the U-wing's side door and disembarking the transport craft on the green light. Blaster locked and loaded, raised and ready to kill., he followed Lieutenant Yilani Wehrmeijer, their weapons officer, take the lead with his GARBR-5 Beak while the rest of them, short of the other weapons operator, handled GABB-15 Talon IIs as their main weapon of choice.

Soon as the last man left, the crew chief aboard the U-wing slammed the door shut and was out of there, leaving the commandos stranded and without support until mission completion. But, they operated well without support, no restrictions to hold them down. Alongside most other teams, the commandos deployed their raven droids early, lighting up the entire system with fresh data from nearly a hundred probe droids scattering like winged rats into the void.

Without need of word, Lieutenant Kosenko clued in the SIA ghosts into their holonet, allowing them a fresh supply of information from the countless raven droids scattered across the system, and more to come later. In the mean time, Thilarii apointed Aurlyn Roux, their Intelligence officer command of fireteam Baker, sending them off to the second link up point while Able high tailed it to the first.

Four commandos each, just as the force intended. Both teams were off in a flash, out of sight and out of mind with equipment in tow to get the job done. The only question was, who if any would try stand in their way?

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

The shot rang out like punctuation.

A single slug, loosed from afar, pinged off the side of Serina’s helm with a sharp metallic clink—harmless, but unmistakably intentional. A greeting. A door-knock. A mirror held to violence.

Across the blasted stone and broken silence, the wind shifted. What little dust remained dared not cling to the figure who emerged from the treeline.

Barefoot.

Robe-clad.

Blindfolded.

No armor. No shield. No alchemy. No symbols.

Just Aadihr Lidos, as he had always been—and yet not at all.

His silhouette moved with slow, deliberate calm, like a tide washing across a battlefield untouched by the storm. A tall shape haloed in quiet. A question mark in flesh. The long haft of his lightsaber pike rested across his back, untouched for now.

He passed the ruined remnants of Reina’s defiance and knelt beside her—briefly, tenderly. He said nothing. Not yet. His hand brushed near hers in a silent reassurance, a surge if his life force given to heal her, though the loss of it barely registered like a raindrop in a barrel for Aadihr. With that, he rose again, eyeless visage behind the cloth unmistakably focused.

The Force around him did not scream or swell. It sang. Like meditation bowls, vibrating in harmony.

“You always did like your theatrics, Serina,” Aadihr said plainly as he stepped between them, voice steady as stone smoothed by centuries of rain. “But this one’s at curtain call.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly. Calm.

“I thought I’d come say hello. You left something in our last conversation unfinished. I think it was your point about pain.”

He took another step forward.

The air thinned around him—not with menace, but with gravity. A refusal. The space between them became a sanctum, immune to the heat of Serina’s fury. Her rage might have devoured armies, but it found no feast here.

Aadihr welcomed pain. Welcomed wrath. But not as a trial; As communion.

“You already know, don’t you?” he murmured, more to the moment than to her. “I don’t mind bleeding. But I think you’ll hate how frustrating you'll find this."

There was no threat in his voice. Not even promise just fact. The kind of fact that didn’t need to posture. The kind that shattered expectations like a prosthetic leg shattered precious crystal.

Aadihr exhaled—soft, slow—and raised his hand. No weapon. No strike.

But the Force gathered all the same.

Not to harm Serina. Simply to deny.

Energy wrapped around his palm like a tide around rock, rippling with Tutaminis so profound that even stray sparks of ambient heat veered away from him, absorbed, undone, rendered harmless. The very concept of offense dimmed in his presence.

“I’m not here to kill you, Serina. And I won't start preaching to you now, I owe you that much.”

He smiled faintly, not kindly. Not cruelly. Just… at peace. Perhaps looking forward to what was about to happen. Once more he spoke blunt truth.

“You will not harm her again.”

He couldn't say the same for himself, but he didn't particularly mind. This was his purpose, his natural state of being.

Darth Virelia | Reina Daival​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival Aadihr Lidos
Objective 2



The shot rang out like punctuation—
But punctuation, Serina had long ago learned, was not the end of thought.
It was merely a pause.
A breath.
A chance to rewrite the sentence.

The slug struck her helm with a sharp, unmistakable crack.
A perfect shot. A perfect insult.

And it pierced.

Not deeply.
Not lethally.
But the slug bit into the phrik-layered edge of her temple, just past one of the six glowing lenses. A spray of metal shards burst outward like shattered punctuation marks in the margins of her war-born faceplate. One of her mirrored eyes flickered—once. Twice. Then dimmed.
Blood—hers, and real—slipped in a slow thread down the inside of her helm, a hot, sticky whisper against her cheek.

Pain.

Real. Immediate.
Not abstracted through armor. Not purified by rage. Human.

A single shot and this battle was over.

Serina did not speak. Not at first.

She merely turned her head, that one dimmed eye still faintly glowing, and observed the shape that had emerged from the treeline like a prophet stepping down from some forgotten altar. Barefoot. Robe-clad. Blindfolded. Unacceptable.

Her posture remained poised, unbowed. But her stance shifted—half a step angled now, not in defense but in recalibration. The cracked lens continued its slow, arrhythmic flicker. Her breathing—still steady—had deepened. Quietly. Controlled.

She watched him cross the stone like a ghost wearing a heartbeat. Aadihr Lidos.
Always an aberration. Always out of tune with her symphony of control.
She had underestimated him before. That was her indulgence.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.

She said nothing as he knelt by Reina. As he touched her. As he healed.
But the way her clawed gauntlet flexed—once, twice—spoke volumes.

The wind moved around him, not through him.
That infuriating gravity. That stillness.
A man who did not resist her—because he did not need to.
Not a wall. Not a sword.
A mirror.
One polished smooth by sand and silence until even her chaos slipped off his surface.

When he spoke, it was not with dominance.
And yet it commanded.

"You will not harm her again."

It hung in the air like a warding sigil.
And for the first time in years, Serina Calis heard something she rarely acknowledged.
A boundary.

She stared at him for a long, long moment.

And then… she laughed.
Quietly. Elegantly. With the kind of poison that took its time to sink in.

"…You get more poetic every time I see you," she murmured, her voice slow, wounded, but still honeyed like hot venom. "Bleeding suits you, Lidos. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't admire your timing. You always did know how to ruin the moment."

She raised a hand—slowly—not in surrender, but in mockery. The gesture was theatrical, stylized. And with it, she pressed two fingers lightly to the cracked side of her helm. A smear of blood painted the outside, sticky and dark. Her own.

"I should thank you," she added, voice rich with layered intent. "This is the most intimate conversation anyone's had with me in weeks."

She took one step back. Just one. A sliver of motion, small enough to be dismissed—except when Serina moved, it was always a signal. A sigil. A repositioning of the entire game.

"And you," she said, turning her gaze—what was left of it—back to Reina, lying broken but defiant in the dust.

"That was clever," she said, her voice low, soft. There was no sarcasm. No venom. "Wasted. But clever."

She gave the girl a look that lingered just a heartbeat too long.

Not affection.

But investment.

A gambler memorizing the face of a piece worth betting on again.

"You know, the first break is always the hardest. But the second?" Serina smiled behind the fractured helm. "That's when people start to like it."

She turned fully now, not in retreat but in transition. The temple's deeper corridors opened behind her like a throat swallowing the storm. Her gait was composed, if slightly stiff from the impact. Her cape, dust-stained and blood-marked, trailed like funeral silk behind her.

She stopped once—just before the threshold.

"…I'll remember this, Aadihr," she said, almost wistfully. "Not the pain. Not the interference."

She tilted her head slightly, the glint of a single remaining lens still aglow.

"I'll remember that you chose to stand between us."

Her voice dropped to a final whisper, more sensual than threatening.

"And I'll make sure… she never forgets it."

Then she was gone.

Swallowed into the ruins with the promise of return burning behind her like perfume on still air.
A wound. A shadow. A vow written in blood and breath.

[END]

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Valery Noble //:
//: Azurine Varek //: Luka Felcado //:
//: Attire //:
Equipment, Brand & Echo in signature

Maybe it was a good thing she had, in so many words, moved to Varonat.

The jungle atmosphere had helped the Corellian finally adjust to the thickness of the humid air. Thankfully, she wouldn't have any trouble in the jungle world of Takodana because of this. Inhaling deeply, she focused herself as she held the new bow crafted from the light she bled during the ritual. The pain still lingered over her chest, but it was quiet and simply became a gentle reminder of what she had become to be free.

The sound of a shuttle touching down nearby caught her attention. Allyson leaned forward on the branch she was perched on. Instantly, she faded into the Force, physically and mentally. Allyson carefully navigated the branch and lept to the next tree, moving closer to get a better view of who was leaving the shuttles. Coming up to the shuttle, she heard voices, one she didn't recognize and the second only stirring an ache in her chest.

A visual confirmation only made the Corellian hold her breath; Valery Noble and what she figured to be an apprentice stepped from the shuttle. Allyson scanned the area further and noted that Kahlil seemed to have joined his wife on this excursion. It didn't matter; Valery was still a force to be reckoned with.

She wasn't the Grandmaster because she was a pretty face.

Moving closer, Allyson remained cautious. She knew Valery would sense her presence sooner or later, no matter how carefully she hid herself. They had too much history and had been too close for too long.

Even after Allyson's betrayal at Woostri, they seemed unable to fully break free from one another. The memories tightened her jaw, and she gripped Shadowfall tighter, feeling the enchantments Taeli Raaf had woven into the weapon merge seamlessly with her own Force energy and the protective brand from the Asha'Kurat ritual.

Reaching back, Allyson drew one of the nanite shafts. The tip rippled to life, forming the explosive tip of the arrow. She held her balance as her thumb hooked the string, drawing it back until it was taut and the curve of the bow took shape. The side of her hand pressed into the arrow's end as she exhaled softly to steady the draw.

Before the hunter could strike, a figure loomed, holding a corpse. Allyson allowed the string to relax as she looked at the figure drawing upon the pair of Jedi. Anger surged through the Corellian, Valery, and whatever dead weight she brought was Allyson's to claim.

She watched, her cybernetic eye zooming in with every blink. There was no recollection or data on the pair of corpses - but something was interesting happening. The inhuman jaw unhinged, and Allyson's lips pursed as she realized what was coming.

Allyson took another steadying breath, drawing strength from the brand's protection over her mind. The wave of darkness slammed into her, threatening to break her focus, but she held firm. The torrent of raw, dark emotion washed over her, yet she remained unmoved, feeling only the faintest touch of its influence.

When the wave subsided, Allyson watched to see if the figure would act again. Still, it simply stood, staring blankly at the Jedi. Whatever intelligence it once had was gone now, leaving it only capable of reaction.

Deciding not to wait any longer, Allyson drew back the arrow again, aiming precisely at the shuttle's fuel tank.

She didn't worry about the Grandmaster. Valery could handle this easily. As for the Padawan—Allyson didn't care what happened to them.

One less child to be dragged into the lies of the Jedi.

She released the arrow, watching it fly directly toward its target, ready to give the mission the explosive start it deserved.

*Edit: Forgot to link the 2 Stealth Force Powers

 

[Sienna]

OBJECTIVE II
TAKODANA JUNGLES

Allies: Kaleleon Tyron Khan
Opps: None yet, go ahead and gank me


Sienna crossed her arms, looking over the shanty town at the edge of the jungle. The evacuation proceeded entirely too slow for her liking. The debris ominously descending from space, burning lines of atmospheric entry cutting the sky into the jungle, did not help her impatient mood.

"Commander, how much longer will this take?" Sienna asked.

The Alliance trooper turned from the holographic readout on his datapad.

"Most of the town is secured, but individual civilian elements are delaying evacuation efforts, Master Jedi," the commander's response was clipped and curt, typical for military personnell.

Individual civilian elements, Sienna assumed, was code for stubborn farmers who didn't want to give up their homes because they didn't believe they needed rescuing. The trails of smoke in the distance, where the space debris touched down argued otherwise.

"Where?" Sienna asked.

"Last report I heard mentioned civilian elements in the jungle over there, Master Jedi," the commander pointed toward the southern edge of town, where the jungle hadn't been cleared entirely and blended with the buildings.

"Noted, Commander. Thank you," Sienna said, nodding her goodbyes, and left the command tent.

She wasn't technically supposed to go anywhere on her own. Without a lightsaber and barely two months into her journey as a Jedi learner, it had taken a lot of convincing to get her instructors to ease up enough to let her leave for this mission. And even then, it was only because Master Kale had promised to keep an eye on her, and because she'd promised not to run off by herself again like she had on Devaron.

But the evacuation efforts were stalling, and she had a feeling the Alliance troopers didn't understand the farmer's situation enough to come up with strong enough arguments to get them to leave Takodana behind. Sienna, on the other hand, had plenty of experience with farmers and the type of stubbornness that usually only a Ronto could possess. If those farmers endangered everyone else here because they didn't want to leave, and Sienna had the solution to that problem, it would only be negligent not to help.

It was decided then. No matter what her instructors would say about her acting out on her own again, she'd go out and talk to the stubborn folk refusing to leave.

 

[Drystan Creed]

OBJECTIVE III

Erkil Meeks was just another junior technician assigned to maintenance for the local satellite array, newly transferred—at least, according to his paperwork. He kept his jumpsuit neat and tidy, his toolbox organized, and his lunch packed in a brown paper bag. Despite the large scar over his left eye, he mostly kept to himself. True to his namesake, he seemed rather timid—those thick-framed glasses almost made him look helpless. His pale complexion hinted at a shut-in nature—definitely not the type to go out much. The security detail barely noticed him, as he practically blended into the walls he cowered against. The sight of blasters seemed to genuinely frighten him.

He cleared security quickly. Aside from a visual bug on the monitors during his biometric scan and an odd blip while scanning his prosthetic, Erkil carried no contraband or weapons. Everything looked to be in order. His tools and tech were consistent with his role—maintaining and fixing issues around the facility. A task he took seriously, walking with quiet determination toward the server room while muttering about the temperature being unsafe for the servers, along with other maintenance-oriented items on his to-do list. A cup of piping hot triple-shot caf steamed in his hand.

The room was ice-cold—just as it should be—and vacant, save for the ever-watchful optic of a ceiling-mounted camera. Perfect. Erkil locked the door behind him, and a smirk crept across his face.

Drystan Creed stepped forward, now fully in control.

It was a clever disguise, enabled by a rudimentary spoofer and a few strings pulled behind the scenes. The rest came from over a decade of experience in disguise and infiltration, and his uncanny ability to physically replicate any movement or mannerism he observed. Nothing had been done through the Force, not deliberately, adding an extra layer of authenticity to his cover.

He took a sip from his cup and let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, sinking into the chair in front of the terminal.

"One thing I can't knock these guys for is their taste in caf. Guess the dark side has its perks..." he murmured, stabbing a drive-like device into one of the ports beneath the console. His fingers danced across the keys, entering a string of alphanumerical commands as the foreign device beeped to life, beginning the process of cracking the server's encryption.

There wasn't much time to sift through the data manually. Troop formations, ship routes, supply runs, personnel files—everything related to activity within the Maw was stored here. He didn't need all of it, but the program would do the work faster than he could. Still, copying everything would take time.

He rose from the chair, caf in hand, and began inspecting each server and related piece of equipment, making himself look busy—analyzing, diagnosing, and notating imaginary issues while the download progressed silently behind him.

Adean Castor

 

[Jacen Breska]

OBJ2: CITIZENS OF THE SITH ORDER ​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
EQUIPMENT: DC-902d | Two Thermal Detonators
LOCATION: :: TAKODANA - DEATHDROP ASSAULT ::
TAG: Ashley Nevermore Aiden Rennek

Takodana was theirs, it’s people were theirs and the Alliance was unwelcome.

“They have series of bases on the planet,” the shadowed, unknowable figure responsible for giving his unit their orders had said, “Initial reports say they’re not trying to hold the planet. They’re trying to take citizens of our Empire. It is the job of your teams to drop in and stop them. Takodana is ours.”
And now, as the drop ships made their way down into the planet's atmosphere, that declaration echoed in Jacen’s head.

“Approaching drop. Into your pods,” the pilots orders came from over the ship's intercom, and as one Jacen and his three troopers rose from their seated position and entered their steel coffins, shutting out the dim light of the ship and replacing it with a low red glow that barely illuminated the inside of the pod. DeathDrop troopers were deploying all across the planet, the first time an almost full scale operation was taking place with the newborn regiment. Hundreds would be falling from the sky in their drop pods in a few seconds, inflicting chaos and destruction upon the Alliance wherever they found them.

“Three. Two. One. Dropping.” Red turned to green, and a burst of acceleration sent Jacen’s heart into his chest. There's no discharge in a war. The pod screamed toward the ground. Jacen's hands tightened on his rifle. If. Your. Eyes. Drop. They will get atop of you. He kept them open, locked forward, teeth clenched.

Smoke began billowing from the pods. The air rushing through their frames produced a high-pitched, terrifying whistle. One pod was haunting. Dozens, falling together, became a terrifying war song. One by one, the whistling cut off. Replaced by thunderous impacts as the pods slammed into the dirt. Fog from the smoke masked the landings, obscuring troopers as they emerged.

The force of the impact shook Jacen in his harness, but he shook it off as all DeathDrop were taught to, released his harness and pulled the release on the Pod. The door blew off it’s hinges, and Jacen rushed out. A warcry pierced through the fog. Not a single unified cheer nor battlecry. Dozens of different insults, jeers, threats and promises. But Jacen was silent.

A quiet rage had grown in his chest since word first spread of these would-be traitors. He readjusted his grip on his blaster rifle and broke into a sprint, rushing towards the Evacuation center. Enough fighting remnants of Alliance forces or insurgents. This was a fight against them proper. And what was worse, they were taking people that belonged to the Empire. His empire.

Perhaps they felt trapped, imprisoned, as Jacen did. Doomed as he was to be a tool of the Sith. But that was where any sympathy Jacen had ended. He did his duty. Maybe he had wished to flee at times, but he did his duty. The people he dropped with. Fought with. They needed that. The loyal people of this Empire needed that. Drop after drop. Planet after planet. Slog, slog, slog, slog. Nothing changed for Jacen. There's no discharge in a war. And the duty of the common people was infinitely simpler. Be loyal and productive. That they would try to flee? Abandon their new and greater purpose?
These people did not bear the weight he carried. They did not fear the invisible grip of the sorcerers tightening around their necks. They did not fall from the sky in barely-armored bullets. They did not pay for survival in blood.

Traitors. Cowards. At least Insurgents fought for what they believed in. Fought for their home. These? They were fleeing their home.

Takodana was ours. It’s people. Ours. The Alliance was unwelcome.

Jacen raised his blaster, and squeezed the trigger. Crimson red blaster bolts screamed through the air, joined by dozens of others as they began their assault on the Forward Operating Base. In the distance, Jacen could hear the screams of the civilians as DeathDrop lasers burned the air overhead. Jacen continued, blasting at every shape he saw through the smoke. Were they all traitors? He didn't know.
Don't. Don't. Don't. Don't. Look at what's in front of you.
Jacen clenched his jaw and squeezed the trigger again.
There's no discharge in a war.

​

 

[Iris Arani]

Obj 1

​

There was nothing more dangerous than flying through the unknown in Hyperspace. Anything at the destination that had been calculated spelled instant death or worse. Black Holes and other anomalies could throw off your course entirely, leaving you with either no path back or worse yet, a path that was completely wrong because of them. From the books Iris read when she first really started to read, the exploration of known space was one of the riskiest endeavors of the early Hyperspace travels.

People loved it, though. People loved to explore.

In this day and age, it was no different. The sudden expanse had ruined all known paths, and the melding of the other Galaxies had thrown so much into disarray. Everything had to be relearned, recalculated. It made people like Iris that much more important. Being able to navigate the stars with more than just machine.

Even now as she floated in her X-wing, she couldn't help but smile just a little. This wasn't something she'd taken the time to experience, watching the colors drifting around in space in a search to find the next path. Where the colors merged and drifted, like rivers through the stars. She wasn't in control this time though, instead seated in the back. Domxite was in their droid port, ready to help with the calculations that were still needed. The one in control of it all though?

Her Padawan.

"We're looking for the paths. Right now, your eyes are the enemy of that. All this black, you won't be able to see anything. So, see instead with the Force. Those same colors you see when you heal, they're here too. Paths. Tell me when you can see them."

Zaiya Ceti

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

BYOO
Journal Entry:
.

AFTER ACTION SUMMARY
I was assigned as an escort pilot to and from Takodama 
on a mission of mercy when things went South on us. This is a 
Recap of what happened during the trip.

I don’t remember why I was given orders to fly escort for this Senator, but here I am. This is not the best, most “action packed” orders given, true, but it is an honor nonetheless. I am not even completely out of the Academy yet, and they chose me for this. On top of that, they are allowing me to fly my X-wing, which was surprising but a welcome one.

Unfortunately with the “shift” and everything that came with it, we needed to evac quickly, so I was in the air flying a cover pattern as the Senator’s shuttle was preparing for liftoff. The five other fighters were in “combat hover”, it is interesting, the differences between fighter designs. Some allow for actions like a simple hover more elegantly than others.


Seela Leini

 

[Kaleleon]

Objective II: Jungles
Equipment: Saber | Utility Knife | Pistol | Poncho | Suit | Gloves | Boots | Bag | Holster | Fastball
Tags: Tyron Khan | Sienna | OPEN

"Look, I understand you want to protect your farm, but the Sith and their Troopers are heavily armed, and armored. Your hunting rifle is not going to do anything to them. Please listen and just evacuate. The Alliance will help you relocate. Just trust me."

A woman was upset about not being allowed to stay with her farm that had apparently be in her family for generations. While we were at the transports and she had come here as instructed, she continued to gripe and moan about having to leave. Not understanding why since the Jedi were here to help them. What she failed to realize that this was a much more dire situation. One in which leaving or dying was the only solution to. The trooper tried his best to coerce her to continue moving. I hated to do this, but we needed to get moving. Closing the distance between the two, I nodded a small hello.

"Ma'am, I am afraid my trooper here is correct. This is a very dangerous situation. We wouldn't be evacuating an entire planet if there was no need."
"That doesn't make sense though? Why should I leave because you can't protect us?"
"Evacuating you, is the protection. Farms, houses, belongings can be replaced. Life cannot."
"This is my home. If the Sith want to take it then I will fight it. Even if the Jedi wont."

I couldn't let this go on anymore. As much as I hated doing this, I needed to get this lady onto the ship. A small wave of my hand behind my back with words spoken to her.

"You want to get on the ship to save your children."
"I want to get on the ship to save my children."
"You want to show them that you can be strong despite the circumstances."
"I want to show them that I can be strong despite the circumstances."
"I believe that is a good idea Ma'am. Go ahead and join your children in the shuttle. This trooper will help you."

The Trooper looked at me confused for a moment but just shook his head and started to usher her into the vessel. I feel guilty for affecting her mind like that, but we were on a tight schedule and I didn't want to leave her behind, nor make others wait for her. Sighing as I resigned myself to try and let it go and not affect me, I lifted my head and looked over. Searching for the young face that was of the apprentices I was watching over during this operation. Allowing them to get some field time and help where they could.

However, I could only find Tyron over on the side. Helping others with their belongings. My brow furrowed and looked over to a Sergeant. I closed the distance and lowered my head. Keeping my voice low.

"Sergeant, Did you happen to see where Apprentice Sienna went off to?"
"Last I knew she was helping the Commander with something. I'd chase him down."
"He's bringing up the next group of people correct?"
"Yes Master Jedi."
"Thank you. Please continue efforts here."

He nodded and saluted me very quickly before turning around and finishing what he was working on. Looking over the heads of the civilians and trying to get a guage on what was happening, I just sighed.

"I swear, if this child gets in trouble, Valery will have my head."