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

[Valery Noble]

Maw cluster

The stars have shifted.

What was once distant and dormant now lies between the galaxy's most volatile powers — and neither side is prepared for what awaits. The Maw Cluster: a chaotic region of space riddled with unstable black holes, collapsing gravity wells, and twisting flows of ionized gas. Long considered unnavigable, the Maw was a place whispered of in legends, avoided by traders and feared by tacticians. But now, the very fabric of hyperspace has changed.

In the wake of a cosmic realignment, the Maw has moved — or the galaxy has moved around it. The result is the same: the Cluster now straddles the uncertain border between the Galactic Alliance and the Sith Order.

Navigational routes have collapsed. Hyperlanes fracture in real time. Planets like Takodana, once firmly under Alliance control, now float within the Maw's grasp — and within Sith-claimed space. Fleets are stranded. Colonies isolated. Ancient anomalies awakened.

And both sides want control.

The Alliance seeks to preserve order, rescue its citizens, and stake a claim to what remains stable. The Sith, bold and hungry, see the Maw not as a trap — but as a weapon. A corridor to conquest. A place to test strength and sow fear. Now, fleets maneuver blindly through gravitational mazes. Jedi and Sith alike feel disturbances echoing through the Force. Intelligence operatives race to install eyes and ears in a region where even light hesitates to travel. And somewhere in the dark, something ancient may be watching.

Welcome to the Maw.

Objective I — Event Horizon​

Alliance and Sith fleets are stranded deep in the Maw after a massive navigational failure. Old routes are gone — and the only way out is forward. Crews must chart new paths through the black hole-infested nebulae... but crossing paths with the enemy is inevitable. Will they fire — or cooperate to survive?

• Find new routes to navigate into and out of the Maw.
• Find others who are stuck and make your way out
• But be cautious: you may run into your enemy. Will you fight your way out? Or will you work together to survive?

Objective II — Takodana Lost​

Once a serene world of neutral trade and Alliance control, Takodana now floats within Sith-claimed space. Alliance personnel and civilians remain planetside, but Sith forces have begun moving in. Rescue who you can, secure what's left, or make a stand for the world.

• GA: Attempt to evacuate Alliance civilians and assets while you still can.
• SO: Gain control of a former Alliance world now trapped within Sith Order territory — a potential bridge to continue the war.

Objective III — Eyes in the Dark​

Both factions seek to dominate the cluster — not just with warships, but with eyes. The Alliance deploys intelligence teams to establish hidden surveillance beacons and sensor arrays, while the Sith sabotage or counter with their own devices and rituals of control. A silent battle for supremacy begins — deep in the dark.

• GA: To turn the tide of the war, we must gather intelligence. Spread throughout the treacherous Maw and develop listening posts
• SO: The Maw is a potential route into Alliance Space. Gain control and set it up for a future campaign.

BYOO
Do you have other stories to tell? Bring your own objective!​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The storm clouds over Takodana cracked open with thunder as Valery's shuttle descended through the atmosphere, its sleek silver hull cutting a line through the rain-slick sky. The world below was green, lush, and deceptively peaceful — a sharp contrast to the roiling uncertainty in the galaxy beyond.

And more pressingly, the unnatural gravitational anomalies that had begun to ripple outward from the nearby black holes.

From the cockpit, Valery could see the lake glinting through breaks in the mist, the dense forests pressing close to the ancient castle nestled at its edge. She hadn't been here in years. The last time, the world had been a neutral refuge. Now, with the Maw shifting and hyperspace unstable, it had become a critical waypoint — and a mystery.

The shuttle touched down with a low hiss, the repulsors kicking up mist from the rain-soaked grass. Valery was already on her feet as the ramp began to lower, her long coat brushing against her boots as she turned to glance over her shoulder.

"Stay close," she said to her Padawan, her voice calm but firm. Not a warning — a grounding reminder. "Sensors picked up a power signature in the mountains northeast of the lake." She reached for her belt, clipping her lightsaber into place with a practiced motion, and offered her student a faint smile.

With that, Valery stepped down into the damp air of Takodana, the treetops swaying in the distance. The Force stirred here — violent and deep. And now, it was calling.

She looked back one last time to make sure her Padawan was ready.

"Let's go see what we can do for these people."

Azurine Varek Allyson Locke Luka Felcado ​

 

[Vera Noble]

Takodana

​

Tag: Aris Noble Nodak

​

The trees were too still. Vera stood at the edge of the trail, eyes scanning the area around her. The faint scent of petrichor clung to the air — that rain-on-ancient-stone smell that always seemed to come before something changed. Her multi-colored eyes, brighter than usual, flicked across the mist-veiled forest, tracing a line only she could see.

Because she had seen it.

The vision had struck her moments ago, sudden and sharp: a towering figure draped in ragged darkness, tusks gleaming in the stormlight, a voice that rasped through the Force like stone dragged across durasteel. A Whiphid — but not just any. A Sith Lord.

And he was close.

"He's here," Vera said quietly, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders. She turned to Aris, eyes sharp. "I know how it sounds, but I saw him — not just a glimpse. Clear. I saw the path through the forest, the ruined spire, the way he looked at me." She paused, gaze drifting back toward the trees. The direction she knew they needed to go. The Force didn't whisper today. It pulled.

"I don't want to wait for Mom or others this time," Vera added, a little softer. "I can't. If we wait, we lose the trail. And I think... I think he saw me too." A beat passed. She looked at her brother, "Are you with me?"

​

 

[Nos Voros]

Objective II — Takodana Lost

Objective: 2
Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

Spoiler: Full Kit

* Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool

• 4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01
• 2 X Vibroblade-Model 01
• Cortosis Vibroblade
• Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series
• Legion Crew Personal Protection Weapon Mark I
• Combat Scattergun-Model 01
• 3 X Modular Hand Grenade-Model 01
• 3 X Anti-Armor Grenade-Model 01

* GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor

• Combat Blaster Rifle-Model 01 with Tactical Accessories Series and Underbarrel Grenade Launcher-Model 01 (20 X Launchable Grenade Series)
• 4x blaster cartridges
• 2x stun grenades
• Ascension Pistol
• Fusion Lantern
• Datapad
• Garrote
• 3x stimpacks
• 3x bland survival bars
• 128oz Canteen of water.

The sky had turned the color of old bruises—twilight painted in ash and stormlight. The last evac shuttle kicked up a curtain of dust as it cleared the ridge, engine glow disappearing into the cloudbank like a coin dropped into water.

Nos didn’t watch it go. He was already moving.

The med camp had collapsed into triage hours ago. What was left of House Organa's relief outpost now amounted to four cots, three staff, and a power relay running on mercy. The perimeter had been abandoned, fallback lines drawn closer to the ferrocrete fountain where water no trickled. The walls of Takodana had never been meant to withstand this.

Nos knelt beside a destroyed shuttle and ran a gloved hand along its fractured base, wiping away soot until the silver sigil of Alderaan showed beneath.

Sylvia’s banner. Still standing.

He didn’t say a word. The civilians near him shifted uneasily, reacting to something they couldn’t name—the invisible pressure of a soldier’s grief laced with duty. Zeltron empathy leaked like blood through a bandage: fatigue, tension, the quiet dread of someone expecting a fight and already mourning the cost.

Nos rose, adjusted the sling on his Blaster, and scanned the treeline.

Static flickered over his comm. Then a sound that didn’t belong to comms or stormwinds—something heavier. Intentional. The forest held its breath.

His breath slowed. Every motion became precise.

Don’t freeze. Don’t fold. Check cover. Line of fire. Angle of approach. Not her. Not now. Focus.

A silhouette moved beyond the fog. Large. Deliberate.

Too heavy for a recon unit. Too still for a beast.

Nos said nothing. He stepped away from the statue and took a knee in the grass, leveling his blaster but keeping the barrel low—nonverbal language for: not friendly, but not firing yet.

His voice, when it came, was measured thunder.

“This zone’s under Alliance withdrawal. If you’re looking to make a point…” A pause, the kind that speaks of someone who’s seen how these moments tend to go. “…do it fast.”

Raef Malstadt​

 

[Ashley Nevermore]

Objective II
Tag: Aiden Rennek Jacen Breska
​

Orders were simple. They always were, in theory.

Phoenix Platoon and the Marines of the GADF had been set up as a bulwark of the evac zone, a small Forward Operating Base set up as a point of entry for troops to bring in civilians. It was a quiet job, but a necessary one. This wasn't some grand assault, nor a daring defense. No, this was a retreat. This was the GADF pulling out of the Maw Cluster after cosmic forces outside of anyone's control reshuffled the deck.

Lucky for her, Ashley got to be with an old face, and old friend. An old flame.

"You keep staring at him like you're gonna ask him to dip you, Ash. Say something."

Ashley rolled her eyes as she turned off his comms. Boxer was always a smartass.

"Hey!" She called out from her tower, having taken it upon herself to act as watch for the hour. A leader must be willing to do what she asks of her men, one of the things she was taught by her old CO. "You free after my shift? No signs of the sith yet, I'll pay for your chow next lunch."

 

[Jonyna Si]

Dawn of Hope
​

TAG: Ailmar Dawnstone
Opposition: Open for sith fleeting, DM me first please.

The Evacuation had begun. Rocs and Koltos zipped out of the hangers, heading towards the surface. With the Marines and Army on the ground, Jonyna figured the evacuation, just might, go smoothly.

But she didn't expect it to.

"LionXs are deploying, Miss Si. We'll have CAP ready in the next ten minutes."

"Thank you Lyara." Jonyna relaxed ever so slightly at the thought. She wasn't taking any chances this time. "Set the Dawns as perimeter guard. The Tenacities will act as inner guard. I want the Astros on standby."

"And the Lifeline?"

"Forward spear. It'll be the best shot we have against Sith attack."

"Aye. Sending orders over encrypted line as we speak ma'am."

The Dawnbreaker and the medical frigates would be the bastion for the evac, while the larger ships would act as secondary targets for evac should the sith not show.

And they would show. She knew that.

"Ma'am?"

Jonyna shook her head, looking over to her second in command. "Yes?"

"Try not to get too distracted. We're in a war zone."

"...right."

This was it. The real deal.

She hoped this fleet would hold.

TL;DR:

Spoiler

Forward most ship, pointed towards sith space, is the Lifeline. To the east and west, the Blazing and Shining Dawn, Twin Venators. LionX fighters act as Combat Air Patrol, while the Tenacities guard the inner circle of the rest of the fleet.

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Objective II: Takodana Lost
Operation: Crimson Echo
Agents in the Area: Davorin Orsava
Assets in the Area: Sons of the White Wolves, Order of the Golden Flame, The 14th Legion

• Tasks:
  
  • Establish a foothold on Takodana.
  • Eliminate the Galactic Alliance's presence.
  • Keep civilians safe and secure.
  • Reignite First Imperial identity among the population.
  • Aid the Sith if and when necessary to maintain optics.
• Location:
  
  • Fort Tenebris: Serves as the primary Commonwealth foothold on Takodana, reactivated during Operation: Crimson Echo as both a strategic installation and a powerful symbol of First Imperial legacy.
    
    Overlooking the overgrown ruins of what is believed to be Maz Kanata's castle, the installation occupies a commanding position along the northern ridgeline, hidden amid dense forest and natural rock formations. The ruins of the castle remain visible from the command level, a silent monument to the region's wartime history.

The forest canopy parted to the howl of repulsorlift thrusters. A crimson-gleamed atmospheric shuttle, flanked by twin escort craft, descended through the scorched mist. Smoke curled upward from still-smoldering timber—some ruined by time, some by recent fire. The shuttle touched down with immaculate precision, its boarding ramp extending with a pneumatic hiss.

She stepped out into smoke and silence.

Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro wore war like a tailored mantle. Her armor, custom-forged, bore a hybrid of modern Commonwealth tactical plating and First Imperial ceremonial elegance. Matte obsidian plates clung to her torso like polished shadow; shoulder pauldrons flared imperiously over her cloak, the interior of which shimmered red like blood in water. Silver etchings of stylized laurels and wolf motifs adorned her vambraces, an homage to the Sons who walked beside her. A military brooch clasped her cape at the collar, stamped with the glyph of infamous First Order sigil, with a small golden flame within it.

Her hair was pinned in precise coils, the ends swept into a twist that echoed old nobility. Not a strand moved in defiance. Her expression was calm, unreadable. Almost serene.

Waiting at the foot of the ramp, assembled in quiet formation, stood the 14th Legion, the Commonwealth's vanguard. Storm-grey cloaks caught in the Takodanan breeze, they saluted in crisp unity, their helms reflecting firelight and reverence.

Among them stepped forth a singular figure, unhelmed.

He was tall, built like a monument carved in wrath and discipline. His face bore the classic austerity of the old Empire, with sharp cheekbones and a jaw set like durasteel. His hair was cropped, his presence commanding. On his shoulder gleamed the insignia of a White Fang—one of the elite among the Sons of the White Wolves. The scar across his brow did nothing to dull the cold steel of his gaze.

"Grand Vizier," he said, voice like low thunder. "We've secured the perimeter. The Golden Flame has made contact with regional command elements. Your arrival was anticipated." Ivalyn knew him as White Fang 217, Amon Crossmar to anyone else beyond the armor.

Ivalyn's gaze passed over him, then to the treeline beyond, where ancient trees loomed like titans and history lay buried beneath moss and bone. "Then let it begin," she answered coolly, her Dosuunian accent lacquered in clipped perfection. "We will not only reclaim Takodana's soil, we shall awaken what sleeps beneath it."

A faint chime from her comm-link signaled a secured channel. Somewhere deeper in the wood, the Golden Flame had signaled confirmation of the temple's control. Her hand, gloved in soft black leather, hovered briefly over her belt. Then dropped.

"Tell your Alpha," she said, turning back to the White Fang, "this is no longer a covert front. The Crimson Echo has sounded."

As she strode forward, the White Fang fell into step beside her. The 14th Legion parted in quiet awe, boots clicking into formation as the shrouded noblewoman passed through their ranks.

She did not look back.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 2 Secure Takodana
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Lúthien Tinúviel / Open!
--------------------------------------------

The changing galaxy had shifted several worlds out of previous areas of influence, hyperlanes shattered and planets cast adrift from where they should have been as a result. Takodana was one such world of many displaced, however this one had found itself not in the newly unknown space of the galaxy but instead within the borders of the Sith Order. Or had the borders of the Sith Order unknowingly expanded amidst the shifting to engulf Takodana? The answer was unclear and hardly mattered when the result was the same either way.

Takodana now sat within Sith space and both sides raced to sieze what they could from the world. For the Alliance they would not so easily part with a world that they had already established themselves upon, and the Sith would of course wish to reinforce their new border with their foe before continuing the war in this new galaxy. For Darth Strosius however, this was a rare opportunity that had presented itself. This was a chance to strike at the heart of the Galactic Alliance, to show them their folly and weakness by making use of their own planet to do so.

He was going to burn Takodana.

He had seen the devastation that the Alliance had brought to Sith worlds in years long since past, the ruins that they left in their wake while hiding away in the Core. But now they couldn't hide, now they would taste vengeance. For once Darth Strosius was not at the head of a force meant for invasion or conquest but rather one bent on revenge and destruction. The Sith could make a foothold out of the rubble, they had done so plenty of times before, and it wasn't as though there was any value in what the Alliance had built anyway.

As such Darth Strosius and His forces crashed onto the world in drop pods, shuttles, and gunships, bringing with them pure death and destruction. When the masked man Himself set foot on the world, pale "wings" flared and crimson blade ignited, hell followed with Him. And He intended to let it loose on whoever dared make their home on this doomed world.

 

[The Vulptex]

Tag: Open for Spy Shit. DM me first please.
Names: Lyra, Samantha, Alex, Beatrix
CEREA​

It was easy to forget about small farming planets like this. Rural communities eager to simply ignore the larger galaxy, and pay tribute from time to time to whomever was in control.

But it also meant that they were often overlooked by those in charge. Take their share, keep the war machine flowing, don't worry about the world itself. Communities ran themselves, and outside of Force Users popping up, the Sith had little care for such a world.

The bigger issue was getting past the Blackwall, but a Recon Flight had identified a weak point. With everything going on, the stars themselves shifting, the Sith were caught with their pants down.

Inserting was a breeze. Slip in in a few stealth transports, land after dark, and get to work.

"You really think it's gonna be that easy?"

"Hell no, but it'll be fun."

"You're always the adrenaline junkie."

Encrypted comms were good, but Vixen knew they'd need to keep their eyes out, even under the cover of the night.

 

[Serina Calis]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival
Objective 2



The wind outside howled like a thing in mourning.

Beneath the ancient stones, where moss slicked the bones of dead kings and the deeper dark breathed secrets into the cracks, Serina Calis stood alone. The air here did not move—not really. It trembled. It hung heavy, as if the chamber itself exhaled beneath her weight. Walls slick with old growth and humidity seemed to lean inward, as if even the stone longed to draw nearer.

In the silence, the crystalline node in her armor pulsed—slow and predatory, like the beat of some abyssal heart. Faint tendrils of violet light bled from it, creeping over the carved obsidian at her sternum and out into the runes that wrapped her breastplate. The crystal slotted into her core—a relic from the Celestial Archive, stolen with sin and brilliance—was alive. Not sentient, no. But aware. It pulsed not in rhythm with her—but with the Force itself, as if the world was screaming and only it could translate.

And it was screaming now.

Something was waking. Something ancient. Something hers.

She exhaled slowly, and the sound was like silk being drawn across bone.

The datapaths she had studied from the Archives hinted at an artifact buried beneath Takodana's soil long before the temple was ever constructed—perhaps even before the Republic had first charted this world. A Sith reliquary, sealed and hidden, its location scrubbed from galactic memory. It had called to her across centuries of ruin and resurgence, its signal faint until the Maw shifted, until hyperspace bent.

Now, the crystal within her called back—resonating with the dark pulse like a tuning fork tasting divinity.

But it was not just power that stirred.

No.

Serina's gaze—sixfold and inhuman—snapped upward, her body freezing mid-step. Her clawed gauntlet hovered inches from the stone altar she had begun to carve open with bare hands, her talons still dripping with powdered rock.

A presence.

Familiar. Acrid.

She did not move, but her senses narrowed, razor-focused. Not with alarm—Serina Calis did not fear. She calculated. And her mind, brilliant and corrupted and sharp as monomolecular filament, had already begun to map the confrontation before the footfalls ever echoed.

"Of course you're here," she murmured beneath the helm, voice distorted into velvet menace. Her words were not for the presence—yet. They were for herself. For the crystal. For the galaxy.

Her fingers flexed slightly, brushing across the edge of the altar. The Sith glyphs responded, glowing faintly where her talons passed—as if recognizing her. As if inviting her. She felt it then: the artifact, buried in the earth below, chained in stone and memory. She would have it. She always did. But not yet.

Not before the interloper was dealt with.

Her left shoulder shifted, violet glyphs crawling across the winged pauldron like carrion flies tracing ritual scars. A hiss of cooling gas vented from her back—prelude to combat systems priming within the armor's skeletal lattice. She didn't need to see to know the approach vector. She felt it in the weight of the air, in the way the shadows leaned in, eager for violence. The Force itself coiled tighter around her, wrapping her in serpentine anticipation.

The presence was strong—annoyingly so.

A Jedi?

An old rival?

No.

Worse.

Someone who knew her.

She licked her lips beneath the mask. Not out of fear. But hunger.

"I should've broken you the first time," she said softly—her tone dipped in licentious contempt, voice like wine gone to poison. "Now you've wandered into my excavation. How poetic. Always eager to throw yourself beneath me, aren't you?"

She turned.

The movement was fluid, silent. Her long split-cape whispered behind her like the wings of some cloaked revenant. Her insectile helm tilted slightly, almost curiously—predatory.

Around her, the armor glowed in subtle pulses. The runes across her thighs and flanks whispered her identity to the dark: Calis. Not Lady. Not Darth. That name had long since transcended the need for ornamentation. It was the warning.

The temperature dropped.

The shadows lengthened.

The crystal in her chest flared once more.

She stepped forward—slowly, deliberately—taloned heels striking stone like distant thunder.

"And yet... you still came."

The words curved from her lips with wicked ease, a smirk in syllables.

"Do you know what's buried here, little shield? Something older than your dogma. Older than your Masters. Something that doesn't care about 'light' or 'dark.'" Her voice deepened, filled with the kind of seductive horror reserved for bedtime stories told by monsters.

"I came for a crown you cannot even perceive. And I will wear it to your remaking."

A hum broke through the silence then—a rising, vibrating tone from the crystal in her chest.

The reliquary was stirring beneath the earth.

And Serina Calis had no intention of sharing it.

Not with the Alliance.

Not with the Sith.

And certainly not with them.

Her claws flexed. Her will sharpened. Her body, armored in sovereign slaughter, poised to strike.

 

[Vulpesen]

Location: Outside of the main FOB on Takodana
Loadout: Battlefield
Objective: Seek and destroy escort
Tags: Gavin Restur Kasir Dorran Darth Moskvin


The men of Cyclone Regiment were usually hard chargers. Quick and fast light infantry who sought holes in the enemy line and exploited those gapes with ruthless efficiency, flanking and breaking apart the sith formations with lethal precision. Today however, they were assigned a different task. Rather than seek and destroy, they were to seek and escort. The planet of Takodana had fallen into sith hands and its civilians were now in peril off all the horrors that such a regime entailed. Using the mobility that his unit had built a reputation on, Vulpesen had agreed with his fellow commanders that his men were to scatter and collect the civilians, using their speed to report disturbances as needed and find people as quickly as possible.

For his own part, Vulpesen kept a steady ear on the comm unit built into his mask, his hands tightly gripping the reigns of his mount. It infuriated him to sit in the back, or rather, off the front lines. But someone had to organize this show and his ability to reach out with the force and sense the world around him made him an ideal candidate. [All Cyclone callsigns, this is Cyc Actual. Keep a perimeter around the fob. I want you to spin a web to round up those civilians and bring them in. Keep it quick, but keep your weapons handy. I've got a bad feeling about this.] That was one of the benefits of surrendering yourself as a tool of the living force. Few things could surprise you. Unfortunately that meant that the Zorren Colonel was now dealing with a sick sour feeling in his gut, the telltale signs of sith entering the scene. It seemed as though a dance would begin today.

His hand went to his saber staff which hung at his hip and he took in a deep calming breath. He would not die today. He would be a herald a life, a guardian for all the lost souls that needed a way out of the hell that would befall this planet. That was what he always wanted. To be a paragon of life and hope that others could look to. Yet, grimly behind his mask, he reckoned himself with another truth. To the sith that stood in his way, while he would attempt to take them alive and capture them honorably, there was a very good chance that he would be the herald of their death, almost a century of warfare having honed him into a weapon of repute.

 

[Azurine Varek]

Edge Of A Razor

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Azzie was already moving, her boots sinking slightly into the sodden grass as she followed Valery down the shuttle ramp. Rain slicked down her horns and shined her raven black hair, tracing tiny rivulets down her cheeks. The lake's surface mirrored the soft turmoil in the patters of drops as they fell, and the mountain and forest-surrounded castle silhouette loomed against the thick mist.

"Stay close."

A phrase she had heard more times than she cared to count in the last few weeks. Master Valery had made it clear that she was not to stray before they had even left, not to risk herself in ways that could undo the fragile tapestry of recovery. She kept her gaze steady on Valery's back, though inwardly, her mind churned with tension and doubt. She had been lucky to get approval as an exception to stand undercover at the Ukatis rebellion at all. Her presence there was supposed to be away from more direct Sith confrontation, and she was strictly to remain with the attending Jedi Shadow, Drystan Creed . Even then, it didn't exactly go as any of them had expected it to.

The moment she had been cleared for fieldwork rather than just exceptions (or sneaking out against advisement), she'd practically bolted from the temple. Not literally, Valery had that look in her eyes whenever Azzie tried to push too hard, but she hadn't needed to sneak out this time. The healers had finally relented, though not without stern warnings. "Physically stable" wasn't the same as ready."

The wind tugged at her cloak as they moved forward, crossing the ground toward the castle. The power signature Valery had mentioned pulsed faintly in the back of Azzie's mind, like a heartbeat—steady but insistent. She could feel the disturbance in the Force here, tangled almost raw. She kept her hands near her belt, though she hadn't drawn her blades. Not yet, wanting to make sure she appeared as approachable as she could for the people they needed to rescue.

Azzie caught her master's faint smile which was a light amid the gathering storm pouring down. She matched it with a nod, but inside, she was bracing herself. Out here, close to the Maw's shifting and the chaos it brought, thunder echoed through the trees and whispered to the shadows deep in her mind.

Focus. There are people here who need us. Rescue is the priority.

Azzie forced a smirk that didn't quite reach her amethyst eyes. "Well, if we wanted a quiet weekend retreat, maybe this isn't the best pick." The teasing didn't lighten the air much, but it was a thread of normalcy as she followed close. "Points for the painters' quality scenery, at least."

Valery Noble | Luka Felcado | Allyson Locke​

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Takodana
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

She shouldn't have come here. Reina should be more focused on helping civilians evacuate. To protect them. But this was something more important to her. Something in the Force had told her this was where she needed to go. Something she needed to confront herself. Reina knew what it was. Who it was. Someone she had wanted to save. Someone who had tried to manipulate her. Someone who would still try to manipulate her. None of that mattered for now. She had to face them. To prove to herself that she wouldn't let her feelings get in the way. That she wouldn't let her slowly thawing heart put herself at risk anymore. The more chances she gave Serina, the more dangerous she could be. The more it would put the people Reina cared for in danger.

Strangely enough, the warning that she felt last time she went to encounter Serina wasn't there. There was no voice telling her to run. No. Because Reina knew that if she ran again, she'd keep running. She would never be able to face the woman she had once wanted to be the friend of. The one who had spat on Reina's kindness again and again. Her grip was heavy around Pequod as she made her way into the Chamber, the air heavy around her. It was similar to Coruscant all over again. None of this was playing into Reina's strength. There was barely any wind. No water to be found. Yet she carried on into the lioness' den. Her eyes fell upon the figure ahead of her, raising an eyebrow at the armour they wore. A small smirk crossing her face at the same time as she finally spoke out loud.

"Wow. That's a lot of colour you're wearing. Trying to compensate for something?"

It might have came across as teasing, as a friendly bit of banter between two people who knew each other, but there was no warmth in Reina's voice. Not anymore. Not for Serina. Reina's gaze continued to stay focused on the other woman, keeping her Lightsaber at the ready. In the past, Reina's desire to prove herself would have caused her to act first. To rush in without thinking. But that wasn't who she was now. Maybe it was still who Serina thought Reina was...but she was finally done caring about what the Temptress thought about her.​

"I should've broken you the first time," she said softly—her tone dipped in licentious contempt, voice like wine gone to poison. "Now you've wandered into my excavation. How poetic. Always eager to throw yourself beneath me, aren't you?"

"You've still never made me willing kneel. You know that, right? Because you can't. You can't make anyone willingly choose to kneel before you. Because you've pushed away anyone who ever did truly care about you."

Reina had cared. Far too much. She had just started to learn how to open up to people. To let them through her defenses and Serina had been one of those people. A mistake. One that Reina was willing to admit she had made. She resented everything related to Serina now. That nickname. Her voice. Even thinking about Phrik caused Reina to feel disgusted.​

"Do you know what's buried here, little shield? Something older than your dogma. Older than your Masters. Something that doesn't care about 'light' or 'dark.'" Her voice deepened, filled with the kind of seductive horror reserved for bedtime stories told by monsters.

"I don't care. Keep your ancient junk to yourself. I'm not here for the Order. I'm not here for the Light or the Dark. I'm here for myself. You want to bore me to death? Carry on talking. I know it's what you do best. Talk, talk, talk. Because you want someone to listen. You want someone to worship you."

And she had nearly been one of those people. She had nearly been someone who would listen to Serina's every word. Someone who believed in her. That was all gone now. Reina had her own Anchors to keep her steady. The people who cared about her that kept her in the Light. But like she said. This wasn't a battle of Light versus Dark in her eyes. No. It was just her versus Serina.

She finally ignited the Silver Blade of Pequod, letting it illuminate her face. A sole Light in the Darkness of the Chamber. And she stood at the ready to attack, adopting her Ataru stance like she always did. Her emotions were screaming at her to attack first, to let out her frustrations against Serina but she waited, holding her hand out and beckoning Serina to come closer with a smirk on her face.

"Your move. Calis."
​

 

[Gavin Restur]

Objective 2
Full loadout + breathing tubes for respirator

So a planet teleports from Alliance space to Sith space...
​

It sounds like the start of a terrible joke, though he'll work on finding an ending to it later. For now, he's still trying to wrap his head around the concept of this happening. His specialty was blasting folk and tracking people, not how the laws of the universe works.

While this sort of thing was also not his specialty, as in doing evacuations and the such, this event was enough of an "oh shit" ordeal to warrant the Alliance to muster all hands that they possibly could to help with this, including his. Orders were pretty simple: evacuate as much of the Alliance's people and property as they could, before too many of the Sith arrive. It was practically inevitable that the planet would fall, it would only be a matter of when.

Thanks to the quick work of the navigators and people who chart out hyperspace lanes, he and everyone else actively working on the evacuation were at least able to actually get to the planet, and start setting up. For him specifically, he was assigned to help out with Colonel Torrevaso and the rest of the Cyclone Regiment in locating civilians, and leading them to where rushed Alliance evacuation zones were set up. No one had any time to come up with a concrete plan as to what to do, this was nothing more than a scramble.

"Come on, people, let's go." Currently in the midst of ushering civilians along, speaking through his respirator's vocoder as his arms motioned in the direction of their salvation. Watching as families would have whatever they could carry on their backs, with even children being given items to carry. As much as he was trying to keep himself focused, he couldn't help but let his mind wander somewhat. To when he was in a similar situation to these people. Watching your whole livelihood come crashing down right in front of you.

Though, his brief trance was ended by a call over the radio. ["All Cyclone callsigns, this is Cyc Actual. Keep a perimeter around the fob. I want you to spin a web to round up those civilians and bring them in. Keep it quick, but keep your weapons handy. I've got a bad feeling about this."]

After having to spend a quick moment with helping a poor woman pick up some things she had dropped in her rush, he brought his comms up. "Copy, Cyc Actual, this is Typhoon 1," A callsign he had chosen to help differentiate himself from the rest of the people he was working with, keeping in line with the weather-styled callsigns, while separating himself from the regiment. After all, he wasn't actually one of them. Just someone working with them.

"You want me to come over to where you're located? I'm willing the trust this bad feelings of yours, and we can see if we don't end up finding some Sith."

It was one of the main factors of this entire thing. That he would actually have the opportunity to fight real, fully-fledged Sith. While the focus is more on the evacuation itself, with combat meant to only serve as a distraction to buy time, he can't say that he wasn't looking for a fight. It's why he was currently wearing his breathing tubes with his respirator-- in case he gets choked by their space magic.

This was bound to be an interesting series of events.

Vulpesen Darth Moskvin Kasir Dorran

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective 2: Secure Takodana... intact or otherwise.
Equipment: E-4H Blaster Pistol, Horror Matrix
Tags: OPEN​

Helix sprawled lazily atop the carapace of an enormous vehicle, flicking through the dizzying stream of information that rattled through his consciousness. Takodana was well-forested, yet also well-populated. Two of his favorite things.

The droid tank plowed effortlessly over the foliage in its way, occasionally reconfiguring its form to climb over obstructions or smash aside particularly large trees. The droid forces behind it were engaged in a time-honored Helix tradition: ecological devastation.

Blue flares lit up the canopy as toxin-impregnated flamethrowers fired, scourging away the thick brush to clear the way for infantry. Helix's internal radiation sensors whined. This was their way. Carve a permanent scar into the planet, to remind the survivors of the cost of resistance.

The ground forces knew their orders. Infrastructure was to be preserved, where possible. Unidentified personnel, armed or otherwise, were considered expendable. Helix didn't like witnesses, or loose ends, but the inevitable wounded that they scraped up still had a purpose.

This was a glorified extermination, but that was why Helix Solutions was here at all. Not just of the populace, either. Takodana's ruins were regularly used as target practice as the droids moved. The incredible heat of Helix's chemical compounds made stone run like wax, casting down structures that had endured the ravages of time for millennia.

The strike force's movement wasn't especially difficult to track: one only had to follow the swathe of azure-blazing trees that advanced steadily toward the evacuation sites...

The trio of nanite-clusters that Helix typically used as eyes narrowed in their sockets, a bizarrely organic mannerism for such a creature. He scanned the treeline constantly with other senses than sight, too. Attuned to every small vibration in the surrounding environment, so far he had only detected animals and the crackling of wood and stone.

 

[Serina Calis]

"You miss me? Little Shield?"

Tags - Reina Daival
Objective 2



The silver blade ignited like a flare against the black. It hummed—pure, resolute, arrogant.

Serina didn't move.

She stood with the stillness of a predator that knew the prey had already stepped too far into the snare. The six violet lenses of her helm regarded Reina in eerie silence, the smallest tilt of her head betraying amusement. The kind of amusement that came not from joy—but from hunger.

The crystal in her chest pulsed once more. In response. In approval.

The room itself seemed to contract around them.

"Your move. Calis."

Her name was a blade on Reina's tongue—meant to cut. It didn't.

Instead, Serina's helm tilted slightly to the side, as though contemplating whether she should laugh or devour her. Her voice emerged like velvet dragged over a serrated edge.

"And still you say my name like you want it."

The air around her shimmered faintly, and then she moved—just a step. Not toward Reina. Not yet. But across the altar, like a queen pacing the bones of her old court. The six lenses tracked Reina, drinking in the stance, the tension, the trembling storm beneath the surface. The rage poorly folded into poise. Serina saw it all.

And she loved it.

"You came here for yourself, you say." Her voice echoed softly now, rich with slow condescension. "No Order. No Light. No grand ideals. Finally, finally... we've come to truth. Isn't that delicious? You've been peeling away your mask for years now. I'm just the mirror you hate for showing you what's beneath."

She ran one clawed fingertip along the edge of the altar as she walked. Each motion was deliberate. Slow. Coiled. Her armored figure—carved to intimidate and arouse in equal measure—gleamed with soft pulses of runelight as the crystal responded to the rising tension in the chamber. The temple stones whispered now, deep vibrations from the relic stirring below. The Force was speaking in tones only she could understand.

"But let's indulge you for a moment, little shield," she continued, voice a low, intimate threat, laced with wicked affection. "Let's pretend your defiance isn't the sound of a collar breaking. Let's pretend you didn't come here hoping—needing—me to be weaker than the woman you remember. That you didn't follow me into the dark because some part of you still wants to be owned by it."

Her gaze held Reina's as she paused, her body framed by the broken archway and the altar that now glowed faintly beneath her. Shadows crawled across the walls in patterns too symmetrical to be coincidence. Her breath could be heard beneath the helm now—slow, calm, utterly unafraid.

"You speak of kneeling." A low laugh escaped her. "Darling... you mistake restraint for failure. If I had wanted you on your knees, you'd never have risen again. But you were always so much more... useful upright."

The lights around the chamber began to flicker now, pulsing with the crystal's rhythm. Each beat echoed like a war drum in the bones. Her voice dropped to a whisper, just above the hush of Force-tension building in the air:

"So go on, then. Prove that you've changed."

She stepped forward—finally—each motion silk-smooth and serpentine. Her cape of synthetic shadow whispered behind her like the breath of an executioner. Her presence in the Force was sharp now, a blade unsheathed. It pressed in—not to dominate, but to test. To measure. Every inch she closed was a challenge, not a strike.

"And when you do... when you find that rage doesn't make you stronger, and mercy doesn't make you safer, I'll be here."

The crystal in her chest flared like a dying star. The runes across her armor ignited like veins of lightning through obsidian.

"Because Reina," she said, removing one clawed gauntlet with exquisite calm and letting it fall with a clang to the ground, revealing a pale, bare hand stained by alchemical ink and old sins, "you didn't come here to kill me."

She raised that hand slowly, palm up, fingers just slightly curled—as if offering something. As if beckoning her closer.

"You came here to see if you could resist me."

Her voice dropped lower now. Soft. Sacrilegious.

"And you're about to fail."

Then Serina moved.

No telegraphed strike. No crude lunge. No Force ability. Serina banked on the fact that Reina would expect her to open combat with Force Affliction, like last time, that by making this grand monologue, she could convince Reina's stubborn brain that the first move would be the same, that Serina hadn't changed.

Serina was going to flip the script.

Use Reina's stubbornness against her.

Just one smooth, elegant advance—bladed heel twisting with perfect grace as she launched into a spiraling arc around Reina's guard, aiming not for a killing blow but for her footing, her center. A testing motion, made to feel her. To pull the thread.

To unravel her.

And behind it all, her voice like silk across steel:

"Let's dance."

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Takodana
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

"You mistake my objective Calis. I still believe in the Light. I just know I'll never be a Paragon of it. I'm too selfish."

Reina kept a grin on her face. The attempts to make Reina bite weren't going to work as well as they would have in the past. She was still alone in this situation. Surrounded by the Darkness, but that didn't mean she felt imposed by it. No. Even as the Force spoke in languages she couldn't even dare to understand, Reina was dedicated to her objective. It was for herself. Not for anyone else. It was selfish. But she always saw herself as selfish.

"Restraint. Is that what you call letting me go? Don't lie to me Serina, and I won't lie to you. You failed in that moment you let me go. And I failed you in the moment I walked away. I should have stayed. Should have tried to get through to you. But it's too late now. I can't get through to you. Not anymore."

She knew Serina wasn't weaker. If anything the Sith was stronger than before. Far beyond Reina's abilities. But in this situation...Reina's desires wasn't to defeat Serina in some grand spectacle. To take down the Sith and triumph over her. That was impossible for her. She could bang her head against a wall as much as she wanted, but Serina was no wall. She was an oppressive Force of darkness. Something intangible that Reina wouldn't be able to break through. But that wasn't what she wanted. All Reina was a drop of blood. Proof that she could cut through the Darkness. Proof that she didn't match up to Serina's view of her.

"You're right in one way however. I am not here to kill you. I won't lie. But you are wrong to believe that I will fail."

Reina saw Serina move. Coming right at her. It was almost ironic in a way for the both of them. They had both intended to flip the Script. With Serina expecting Reina to think that the Sith would use Force Affliction, and Reina expecting Serina to believe that she would flip into her Ataru stance to dodge and flip around like she would normally. Aiming for Reina's footing, the most important part of any Ataru stance, yet...Ataru wasn't what Reina was going to rely on this time.

Instead as Serina spun around her guard, Reina didn't make any effort to dodge or to parry the strike with her Lightsaber. Instead she raised her Anchor, the prosthesis that was finally beginning to feel like a part of her and sent out a kick to connect with Serina's heel. It was an inelegant attack, compared to the smooth advance of Serina. Instead of grace mixed the cutting edge of death, Reina's defensive strike was rough and blunt. The pneumatics of the Anchor lashing out to let the clash of metal against metal echo through the Chamber. A small wince coming over Reina's face at the contact. The downside of the prosthesis feeling more a part of her meant that it was as if she could feel it's pain.

"Looks like we've both picked up a few new moves, Calis."

Then she went to her next trick she had focused on learning, as she switched to Form V. Djem So. It was far less mobile than Ataru, where she could move like the flowing waves and wind. Instead she was a steady anchor, holding her in place to stop herself from rushing in. Raising Pequod above her head before she brought the saber crashing down towards Serina, as a "Falling Avalanche". However, like she said, Reina's intentions weren't to kill, as she instead brought the Lightsaber cascading down towards the Sith's shoulder.

She had no clue as to the weaknesses of Serina's armour. Reina didn't even have a clue if the Sith's armour did have any weaknesses but that didn't matter. Serina, as a living being might have been some kind of intangible Force, but this armour wasn't. Armour could break. Even if it was made out of Phrik, she'd find an opening. Somewhere.
​

 

[Luka Felcado]

The sky did not break when she arrived.
But something else did.

A pressure in the air, subtle at first—like a breath held too long. The animals were the first to react. Birds burst from the treeline in terrified silence. The hum of insects fell still. The rain carried something fouler now—an ancient, sickly scent that did not belong in the clean green of Takodana. Something rotten. Something wrong.

Then the scream came.

A voice. A rippling in the Force—wailing in dissonance from the woods.

It tore through the trees in a psychic rupture, jagged and raw, leaving splinters in its wake. It was not meant for them, but they heard it all the same. A madness given form. A ghost that had not yet chosen death.

She stood at the ridge.
A silhouette of ruin.

Armor warped and scorched black, its plates jagged like chitin. Cloak hanging in shreds. Skin pale and cracking as if frostbitten beneath the flesh. Her hair fell in thin strands over her gaunt features. Her eyes—yellow and burning—watched from beneath the curtain of rain.

And in her arms — A body.

Charred along the back and limbs. Flesh leathery from fire and cold. Ribbons of cloth clung to it like shrouds, fused to the wounds. Its saber still hung at the hip, untouched. The neck ended in nothing—cleaved and cauterized.

The corpse had no head.
But she still listened to

Luka Felcado nodded faintly, as if receiving direction from the thing in her grasp. When the Force grew still, he was her compass. When doubt overtook her, he told her which path to take. Even now, she obeyed his silence.

She moved forward – not quite stumbling, not quite gliding. Her boots made no sound in the grass. No breath fogged from her lips. The storm parted around her. Repelled from her. She did not belong to this weather. To this environment. She was something twisted. Something wrong.

Her gaze found Azurine Varek and the woman beside her. That one didn't interest her.

And for a moment, Luka stopped.
The corpse slumped against her shoulder as she lowered it to the earth. Slowly. Reverently. Her hand lingered at its ruined chest.

Her head tilted. Birdlike. Inhuman. Curious. Mournful.

She did not reach with hands.
She reached with presence.

The Force twisted around her—tight and sick with grief. A pulse echoed outward, like the last heartbeat of a dying man.

Her stare fixed upon Azurine, and in that gaze lived question unspoken:

Are you the one who took him?​

Are you the one he died for?​

Are you what I must kill to make it right?​

Her hand moved to her saber.
Not yet drawn.
She listened to Johan's words. She too saw the boy's link to the Iridonian girl.

She said nothing. She could say nothing.
Her gaze was louder than her scream.

Valery Noble | Azurine Varek | Allyson Locke​

 

[Darth Morta]

Objective 4: BYOO
Location: Deep Maw, Unnamed Planet
Tags: Open

Darth Morta could feel how the dark side oozed from the planet, even from space. Accessing this place had been no easy trick; it had been encapsulated in a shell of black holes, but for the cataclysmic shift in the galaxy's topography, it would have been all but inaccessible. Now even a middling pilot like her could make the trip if they wanted to risk getting sucked into a black hole's event horizon and be fated to a slow death as the time dilation of the massive stellar objects made their perception of time drag on slower and slower.

Rumours had it that nearly a millennium ago, a powerful force entity dwelled here, and Morta could believe it. The taint it left on the force was like the scent of corpses left in a room, putrid and rotten, but to a practitioner of the Dark Side it was more empowering than anything she'd ever come across before.

Bringing the Umbra Operis in low, she let the ship take several scans of the planet as she let the forces guide her to where she needed to go. The jungle covering the planet had an unsettling tint to it under the light of the blue sun, and the optical scopes certainly didn't help alleviate the eerie feeling of this place. Tracking movement, the scopes had picked up several animals that had been suddenly and surprisingly killed by plants of all things. Drawn up into trees and strangled by vines, falling into poisonous thorns were under natural pit traps, sprayed by acid from flowers, or the most mundane method, snapped between jaws of what appeared to be giant versions of fly-eating plants seen in other parts of the galaxy. There was likely more that Morta's ship had just not picked up in the short flyover.

It seemed obvious to Morta that whatever being had dwelt here had corrupted the place with its pure power. Carnivorous plants weren't unknown, or even uncommon, but the fact that this planet's entire ecosystem seemed to be turned on its head, with plants on top and animals on the bottom. It was so unnatural that what few doubts that she might be in the wrong place were swept away.

With the disappearance of Morta's doubts, she was finally able to catch within the force the place she was looking for. A set of small ruins near the base of a volcano, either extinct or simply inactive, though there was no space near the ruins that would be suitable for landing a ship, any ship, Morta would have to find a landing zone and move through the lethal jungle on foot.

Circling above, Morta searched for a suitable landing zone, eventually finding a beach on a crimson river a couple of hours hike from the ruins.

Once set down, she gathered her gear, checked her weapons, even grabbing the heavy force imbued flail, just in case it turned out to be used, and Morta set out into the jungle.

 

[Aris Noble]

The immediate thought was no. They could, and should, wait for help. The want to protect, the want to not see Vera hurt again like last time, it all blurred through his mind in an instant as Vera spoke up about them going after whatever it was she saw in her vision. Him. Who he was, Aris didn't have a clue. Unable to perceive the Force, let alone see visions as Vera could, he could only go by his gut feelings and what his other senses told him.

There was a chilling pause though, as Vera continued.

He saw her. A vision, but they were seen through it? The worry in his expression, subtle and almost non-existent as it was, faded to his simple, basically emotionless state. It wasn't that he was emotionless, more just that he didn't show them any further. He turned his gaze upward, scanning around as he let his focus drift to the senses he did have. Touch, scent, hearing, sight, taste. While he didn't have the Force to sense those around him, his other senses were beyond human.

"If whoever this is knows we're here, no point in running. Back me up." There was never a chance he wasn't with her. Aris snapped on his lightsaber, the hum of blue illuminating the wilds around them. They would fight, if they had to.

Vera Noble | Nodak