Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

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PHASE 1: ADVANCE ON EXEGOL || RED HONEYCOMB ZONE
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Allies: Aleksandr Stirsea, Ronan Calore (if he shows), Strike Team Tano
Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw | No PC’s until groundside (coming for you, Sahar Sahar )

There was the briefest moment of quiet before, a sparse few seconds that dragged on for eternities, where the Violet Venture and the strength of all the light sped towards the Maw's forces, darkness rising to meet them. In that minuscule instant, Cale looked beyond the cursed world and its wretched defenders, out onto the infinite stars spread across the void. It was a beautiful existence to fight for, this galaxy of theirs.

Then the war began.

Maw fighters crashed into their lines and they into theirs. All around the ship streaks of light cut across the blackness of space in a hundred shades of reds, blues, greens, and more. The force gave its guidance, and experience took the controls of the starcraft. Cale banked left, then cut into a roll, the installed forward cannons firing a storm of crimson as he maneuvered the Starcourier between oncoming interceptors. The barraged streaked over an unshielded hull and the Mawite erupted into a storm of sparks and debris.

Two more fighters broke for them trying to come in behind them as another came at him head-on. Cale never so much as flinched, calling on the force to throw what switches he could not reach as he slammed the throttle. The ship shot forward, weaving between streams of blaster fire from the front and behind as the enemy's attacks found no trace of their target, closing on him as they tried to keep pace amid the chaos.

It was just a matter of timing, and that was something he'd had long years to perfect.

The fighters closed from either end of the Venture's forward cannons all but silent, and then Cale acted. He ripped the Venture from her collision course at the last moment, the Mawite rushing him colliding with one of the pursuers in a brilliant explosion. As the battle commenced it was only one among the hundreds of thousands of such explosions in that same instant, but it was the only one that drew a smirk across his face.


"Still got it." He muttered to himself, pulling into a loop as the last of the chased down the Venture with a vengeance.

"What the hell am I paying you two for? Shoot!" He barked to his companions, who he was most certainly not paying either of.
 
Silhana Cadera
Lynne Tal’kira aka Lady Orchid
Alor'ad (Captain), member of the Clan Cadera; Bounty Hunter, Headmistress of the House Orchid and The Bounty Hunters' Guild
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Objective: Hunts down Kralmus orr
Location: Unknown Location, Exegol
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | 2x Beskad | Besar'gam | Mandalorian vambrace || Njósnari Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Writing With: Kralmus Orr Kralmus Orr | Closed
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[ Mando music ]
"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Sil #1
Kralmus #1
Sil #2
Kralmus #2
Sil #3
Kralmus #3

I have had quite a few dealings with persons who were insane; as I have often hunted such persons. But I have to say, the level of insanity that Kralmus possessed, I've never seen before. He apparently didn't even hear what I told him, even though I gave him my best taunts. But he only existed in his own world and could only exist for him what he wanted to see or hear. Perhaps for a moment I even felt sorry for him, for he was a fine fighter; even though he was absolutely crazy when we first met…

However, I didn't have much time to regret or think about it, because this state was a great opportunity to break out of the captivity of the gravity field. I flew towards him uncontrollably, but his instincts saved me. I moaned in pain as we collided. I heard my armour also cry from the impact and a dent was created at my shoulder, which pressed on my shoulder, causing pain and because of this I could not move my arm properly. Although at this moment I had other concerns. Stop the jetpack. As he shot after me, I felt that he hit my shoulder or just my leg.

But that was the least of my worries at the moment. I tried to regulate the jetpack, although it was not easy. At the beginning, I left a burnt streak behind me, and then the shots really knocked me into the ground. By this time I had turned off the device on my back, but I slid and rolled on the ground for at least fifty or sixty metres or more, leaving a deep groove in the ground that showed my path. Fortunately, I slowed down at the end, but at the end I was stopped by a rock wall, which I slid against. Ouch!

Everything ached and throbbed, I picked up countless bruises and my skin was scorched by the heat under the armour, just as the armour heated up from sliding. I sustained countless burns, bruises, and cracked or bruised bones. It's lucky that the jetpack didn't explode during the first stunt. I groaned as I tried to stand up. Everything hurt and I was even dizzy. This was not going to be the best day of my life, I was sure of that. And it's still not over.

A few moments later I saw the missile coming towards me. Despite the pain, I started to run and then jumped behind another larger rock. The rocket crashed into the rock I had hit not long before. The explosion was still huge, as was the heat. It totally blinded me, even with my helmet, which had flash protection. Not to mention that the sounds also cracked my ears, despite the dimming. I fell to the ground screaming, partially deaf, partially blind, and my armour began to heat up again from the heat.

In this situation I will be unable to fight back, my only hope is that he will believe I am dead and give me enough time for my vision to clear and the ringing in my ears to stop.

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Exegol Phase 1

Tag: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el

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A hit, Romund had finally drawn blood from his opponent. Sure it wasn’t the devastating amputation he was hoping for, a mix of Jasper’s mechanical arm’s durability and his own sloppy footwork columnated in a nasty cut where metal met flesh. From a surface level it didn’t look like much, but as a vibro-weapon it didn’t take much at all to make an otherwise minor cut or stab into something much more serious.

But his opponent was largely unfazed by Romund’s counter and quickly maneuvered their vibrant sword to retaliate against Romund’s outstretched form. Japer was going for his arm. It was an odd sensation at first, having his appendage from his bicep down suddenly not there anymore. Like the cut to his torso, his alchemical body seemingly burst with fiery embers against the sharp edge of Lux Ultima. The newly formed stump on Romund excreted a small sickly green flame. As if burning away the very corruption that overran his physiology.

The impact had the large man stumble back some. Where he looked down at where his lost arm and weapon lay. Clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth so hard it felt like they might all shatter. He winced in pain before finally grabbing the stump. The only silver lining was that the wound was surprisingly similar to that of a lightsaber. He couldn’t bleed out from it. Romund seemed at a loss for words before he took in a deep inhale, his chest pressing against the fabric of his heavy coat. A stream of negativity began to flow into Romund, potent enough his opponent could sense it building up in him.

Fiery eyes stared down at Jasper, he supposed that was fair, Romund went for his arm and lost his in return. Letting out a painful sigh he spoke. “I needn’t cry over lost arms, I can grow another afterwards, I’ve done so before.” As the Dark Jedi spoke he began to reach under his coat along his chest. What he said was true, he’d lost his hand to a mandalorian years prior. So it wasn’t the end of the world for him. Pulling out from under his coat came a lightsaber hilt.

If Jasper was knowledgeable enough it was the same make and model of a standard imperial knight lightsaber. Taken and corrupted by previous fallen foes. Activating the weapon and igniting its blade showed a bright ruby colored blade as opposed to the brilliant white light it may have had at one point. Sadly with the loss of his arm he couldn’t utilize the second one he carried, and wield both weapons with Jar’kai. “I must concede from my former declaration young master Jedi. I won’t bother trying to clone you. Your fate will be like the rest of my conquered enemies. Captured, and frozen in carbonite as just another trophy in my museum back home. You won’t die, but like me, when you finally escape you will be lost in a galaxy so unfamiliar to the one now you call home. Many generations removed…” Romund spoke from personal experience, with the petty desire to inflict the same sort of torment he’d faced when frozen in carbonite many centuries ago. Even expressing some of his own torment, as someone who's present felt more like being lost in the future.

With a mild flourish with the lightsaber in his remaining hand he stood before Jasper, guarding towards the Jedi with his side towards him, weapon in a low causal looking guard. Whether he wanted too or not he needed to fall back on his limited understanding of Form 2 lightsaber combat.
 

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Kahlil took a step forward, ready to follow Valery in now that the Master of Ren was freezing up. If not for the scattering of the door towards him, he would've. Instead the step forward turned to him lifting his blade up and around, weaving through the blast of debris with each step. His worked in tandem with each step, cutting apart and blasting away those shards he couldn't turn his body around through.

Let's end him together.

Another step, and he weaved through the last chunk of the door just as his ice shattered. Then he launched forward. Passive defense had always been his forte, but it wasn't the only skill he had. His strength, his power, he'd always avoided using it to be a better Jedi. Now the blade came up, his eyes narrowed in focus before he stepped purposefully on another rune. Ice ruptured from the ground, but rather than consume his leg like he'd done with Kyrel, it shot him forward to strike once in a powerful slash down atop him.

Valery Noble Valery Noble | Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren
 
Heiress of an Undead Dynasty


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Beneath Exegol's Surface, Dark Secrets Lie

Objective: Uncover Buried History

Opposition: Kat Decoria Kat Decoria

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Exegol is a world of temples and tombs, and while many of them have been picked clean by looters or occupied by Mawites some contain secrets not yet to surface, left buried and hidden for thousands of years. Beneath the planet's surface lies one such bastion: The Midnight Ziggurat, a black pyramidal structure dedicated to Erebus Ignosi, the Sith Lich Lord, and Hekate's distant ancestor.

It was for this reason that the Sorceress joined the other Sith heading to the world; not to fight the Maw, but to uncover the tomb of Erebus and recover whatever possible before it became impossible. Hekate's ST-4 cut through Exegol's atmosphere, descending amidst hails of laser fire, the pilot trying their best to stay out of the thickest of the fighting and slip by mostly unnoticed.

The Sith Pureblood sat in the transport's command center, observing the unfolding chaos on the viewscreens while a squad of Magnaguards stood at the room's corners, unmoving but clearly active. Hekate silently hoped that the fighting had not yet reached the tomb, and that she would be able to get in and out without much hassle. It had taken a vast amount of time and resources just to discover the Midnight Ziggurat's location, she was not going to be halted at the last obstacle.

Stepping away from the command center Hekate closed her eyes, clasping her hands together, and reached out with her mind. She tried to feel for some sign, anything, that she was close, but any sign she might have gotten was buried beneath the noise. All of the death and destruction, of the past and the present, made it difficult for her to parse anything. With an exasperated grunt, she let her hands fall back to her sides, balled into fists. The panel beneath her feet began to creak, and with that she opened her eyes, her hands relaxing.
You mustn't lose yourself here, now, not when you're so close, she thought to herself. That fruitless endeavor concluded, she returned her attention to the viewscreens.
 
"I suspect it is some kind of trap. Clearly effort has been made to make it stand out as a point of interest to check..."

"Or it could just be an abandoned circus..."

Cora muttered underneath her breath, but Jand's point hadn't gone unheeded. A derelict carnival could provide many places for an enemy to hide.

The younger Padawan also gave Daisy a brief dip of her head before departing, but the Zeltron-hybrid's words still lingered in the periphery of her mind—a learning experience, hm? I do wonder what the lesson will be.

Hopefully something that wasn't particularly painful.

Boots crunched beneath the dehydrated dirt of Exegol as the trio moved towards the unsettling sea of dingy tents and flickering lights.

"I'm glad you've joined us, Dom. Er," Cora's lips pulled into a grimace as she addressed the SIA agent. "My apologies. You share the same name as one of my younger brothers, Dominik." Smoothing over what would've been quite the blunder in the aristocratic circles of Ukatis, Cora focused on the task ahead of them, and the Nagai who'd denoted himself their de facto leader.

Cora was not particularly fond of Jand, largely because he was not particularly fond of her. The young noble was only recently beginning to understand how her courtly demeanor could be perceived as well...snobby and pretentious.

The ichor of the Dark was alive on Exegol, seeped into the planet's core, pervading into the very soil they trod on. It was like Xa Fel and Selvaris all over again—the sickening familiarity of the Dark forced itself into her senses, growing stronger and more volatile the closer they drew to their target. Strewn across the perimeter of the circus was a smattering of corpses, a strange mixture of Alliance commandos and Maw warriors.


"Oh, stars above!"

Cora gasped, producing a monogrammed handkerchief made of luxury material and holding it over her nose in an attempt to ward off the unsavory stench of death. Still, she stepped forward to observe the bodies, careful not to disturb them in the event that they were rigged with explosives. Each soldier had a gaping wound at the right side of the chest, shattered ribs stained crimson in some places while bone white spicules peppered the hollow space where the heart should have been. Blue eyes narrowed as she inspected another corpse, then a third.

"Dear Ashla," Her intonation was deathly somber. "It looks as though some...dreadfully powerful beast has scooped out their hearts whole."

What was most concerning about this grisly scene was the lack of detached hearts to be found. Someone or something had taken them, but for what?

Rising to her feet, the blonde sighed heavily. This was deeply troubling. Her wary gaze lingered from the tortured bodies to the red-and-white striped canvas that was ahead of them. The Dark may have been everywhere on Exegol, but it pulsed particularly hard around them.

"Whatever did this…" Lowering the cloth from her face, she threw a look of hardened concern to Jand and Dominick.


"...is in there."
 
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Val Drutin

Guest
V
If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!

Eating some of the cotton candy he had made, Val climbed into the cannon, which was now pointed at the entrance to the circus tent. A flick of his wrist and a twitch of the Force lit the fuse...

BOOM!

He shot out of the cannon, arcing over the heads of Tegan Starfall Tegan Starfall and Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr as they stood talking, then out of the tent and into the open air. He passed by Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania just close enough to ruffle her blonde hair. Then, with only the faintest manipulation of the Force, Val came careening toward Jand Talo Jand Talo at approximately 120 km/h (74.6 mph), his violet lightsaber pointed directly at the Jedi's neck.
 

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O B J E C T I V E
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Wearing: Black Hooded Cloak
Equipment: Lightsabers x2
She slowed and crept to a stop as she faced him. Her shrouded figure stood with a menacing statuesque stillness. And through her hood and the shadows shrouding her face. She watched the man before her pace back and forth. And then a breeze unnatural to the environment of the ship began swirling around the cloaked feminine figure.

For the proceeding moments, she stayed motionless, watching, and listening to all his bravado without a reply or retort yet. It was quite unfortunate for him that he did not take her invitation. Because all he was doing now was fermenting her anger, which made her even stronger and gave her even more focus.

He brought up the notion of her potential death. And his incorrect notions about her and it being inconsequential. It would be consequential of course, on many levels. Although there was some slight truth to his words that her death would be inconsequential, only in the sense that. Death means nothing, there is no end, she would be reborn.

There were many avenues and possibilities for the reanimation of the dead. All of which had various levels of success within which the practitioner hoped to achieve. The creation of sith spawn was a vastly different yet similar practice. And Velda had in her past, bore witness to such monstrosities that had been twisted into form.

This grand battle over Exegol had an air of finality for The Maw. And yet, this was not Velda's first battle that her young eyes had witnessed. She had partaken in campaigns for another empire that had risen and fallen back when she was merely an Apprentice. So partaking in open galactic warfare was no stranger to her.

Her eyes stayed fixated on him as she watched him continue to pace. He was probably trying his best to figure out how to get out of this quagmire of his with as little hassle as possible and leave with the project. He was taller and seemed more physically imposing. Against Velda's shorter and more petite frame, and perhaps Velda was faster. Yet, in the grand scheme of things it would all balance out in the engagement of battle.

Then, he stopped pacing, after his grandiose and overconfident display, and he took what looked like some sort of defensive posture as if he were ready for an attack himself, and her gaze narrowed in disgust.

And then a sinister and poisonous laugh cackled from the shadow of the hood, only to break the monotony of the man's voice. "Oh, what a vivid imagination. Haughty, misguided, and short-sighted all at the same time, impressive. It seems you are remiss of the third possibility, where I shatter your worthless dreams and kill you. Then I direct the worker droids on this ship to pitch your pitiful corpse into the trash compactor. Along with your gapping maw and naïve and arrogant tongue, only to be ejected into the vast cold embrace of the void."

And then, she sensed it, four more force sensitives had entered the ship, although she did not know who they were yet that was something of note.

Velda was losing patience as much as it seemed that this individual before her was buying time for whatever his reasons might be. She pondered on what may be his background, possibly an assassin of sorts, which seemed to be like his method of operation up to this point.

Pivoting her right hand up enough for it to be horizontal to the floor a powerful flash of bluish-white lightning emanated from her fingertips. The lightning hit the ground in front of him, and it used the floor as a conduit to reflect upwards and toward him. The display of the darkside was here as quickly as it came, in less than a mere second.

She still had not drawn her lightsabers, yet, which were still hidden, but easily drawn upon, in case her opponent replied.

 
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Objective: Prepare for the Inevitable
Equipment: Weapons
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Ingrid L'lerim | Open
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War, Death, Rebirth. The infamous war cry of the Brotherhood of the Maw. A war cry that heralded a horde of death and one that would soon see its end. Anyone smart would be able to see it, the end was approaching for the Brotherhood, all that would change is how many they took with them. Zachariel himself knew death was coming for them all, but even if it took most of them, he was determined that it wouldn't take all of them, that it wouldn't take Ingrid.

He had gone to some lengths to get Ingrid back from Kyrel, but now she was safe from him, hidden away in the depths of Exegol. She was safe there, for now at least. But the future didn't matter much to Zachariel then, war raged across this world and the Maw fought to survive. He'd play his part and see it finished. But first, he visited his lover, traveling through countless twisting corridors and numerous doors just to reach her, safe from all, hidden from all.

Opening the final door and passing through the double doors, he emerged into her current holdings. As the door slid closed, Zachariel gave her a once over without a flicker of emotion to be seen or felt. It was somewhat regrettable that she had to be held in this way, but he also knew that she'd escape easily otherwise. Sighing as he saw the cracks in the crystals, the warlord approached Ingrid slowly, before kneeling in front of her so that their eyes were even to one another.

"Hello my dear." He sighed and shook his head slowly. "I know you have words for me, so I would hear them before I speak."

With that, he simply watched her, waiting with a patience he wasn't known for. In the distance, explosions could be faintly heard and the room occasionally shook, but he remained immobile as he watched.

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Location: Sith Citadel
Objective: Escort the Dark Lord │ Salvage Artifacts
Direct Engagement: Nathan Bloodscrawl Nathan Bloodscrawl

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The Sovereign Protector collapsed to the ground, his energy fading into the Nether as Quintessa caught her breath. However, it didn’t take long for his presence to give way to something else. Something ugly to her senses, repulsive, and counter to her very existence.

Jedi.

The aspiring Sith knew immediately that she would need all of her strength to meet him on any terms. She immediately committed herself to the task of restoring her energy, pushing a dose of Supernal Infusion into her thigh, cleaning her chakrams and refilling their poison reservoirs, and checking over the rest of her equipment.

Then, she would wait.


 
Fleeting chattel? Thelma's grip on her lightsaber's hilt tightened, but still she didn't move. The creature came closer, circling around her like a wolf entrapping prey. At this distance she could discern male human anatomy, though his body seemed distorted with age and whatever had turned him into the thing before her now.

"Your scent is familiar," she said. "I've met another creature who was like you. A woman with white hair." Probably he wouldn't know who she was talking about or care to know more, but she was still looking for answers. She didn't know what Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru was either. Some sort of vampire species she was unfamiliar with, too arrogant (or perhaps too bestial) to have shacked up with the other civilized feeders in the Citadel.

Alina had nearly killed her. She had taken Thelma's hand. This... man would probably do worse.

"Yield - and I might - keep you."

"That's not an answer." But it was a refusal all the same. Thelma's lip quivered faintly. Should she call for backup? Would anyone come in time? "I won't yield, and I won't let you hurt anyone else."
 


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THE EMPIRE | THE RED HONEYCOMB
PHASE 1: APPROACHING EXEGOL
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Castian sighed behind the respirator. He really wished Vilu wouldn't do that or at least wouldn't be so obvious about it. It was detrimental to team morale when your fellow soldiers were betting against your lives. Could you trust them to hold the line, if they stood to gain from your death? But he had learned two campaigns ago that Vilu wasn't easily dissuaded.

No, but participating quickly and then changing subjects seemed to placate her. Somewhat.

"Yar thinking about Scipio, I reckon." They had to put down an insurrection of the natives there. Karking mess considering the world had been a heartland world of the original Imperial Remnant.

When even your Core systems were trying to rebel? You knew it was bad.

"Luck." Castian agreed there, nodding calmly. "But... considering I yanked yar green arse out of the fire quite a few times with mah Luck... you sound displeased by it." Bemused shot her way. Well, it was bemused behind the visor, but his face didn't show. It didn't need to. Vilu and him had been through enough she'd be able to pick up on the unique distortion of voice modulation that signified him finding something funny.

It be like that.

"I could try an' not pull yar ass out next time if it makes ya dat indignant."

It wasn't the first time Castian had jokingly threatened it. It wouldn't be the last one either. But every single time the Master Sergeant was there to help his fellow squad members. Sometimes he was too late. He remembered those times. But maybe it was Vilu's own luck that her antics somehow always were close enough for Vero to leap in and put his own ass on the line for her.

Hell-

"I just thought of something- are ya doing it on purpose? I just realized yar way more suicidal when we on an objective together."

ALLIES | THE EMPIRE | ASHLAN CRUSADE | Vilu Kopma Vilu Kopma
FOES | THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE | THE NEW JEDI ORDER | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | U IF U LOOKIN' AT ME FUNNY
 

FN-999

Guest
F

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Objective: II
Location: Outer Forbidden District, Exegol
Unit: 908th Legion
Unit Strength: 11000/11000
Allies: Empire | Ashlan Crusade | Eternal Empire | Ground Pounders
Enemies: Maw | The Sith Order | Galactic Alliance | Ground Pounders
Engaging: TBD | Open to engagement


The Reborn poured out of their camp by the thousands.

One by one, troopers activated their night vision filters or turned on flashlights as they submerged themselves into the darkness of Exegol, both figuratively and literally. They marched outwards in a great wave of white-clad humanity, further reinforced by the Legion's armor contingent and artillery units as they lurched forwards. Up ahead, a patch of light illuminated the way forwards, guiding the Reborn towards the Forbidden District.

Or at least, that was what they thought.


[Watch your step, lava fissures ahead!] reported a scout.

"Looks like thermals are a bust." mutttered FN-999.


[All 908th units, disable thermals and enable night vision.] ordered the Baron over the comms.

With practiced efficiency, the legion complied and continued their march, albeit slower and more cautiously. In the distance, large columns came into view, a shade darker than the black-and-blue sky around them. Some were cylinders, some were rectangular, and still others were oval shaped, all over a hundred meters tall.


"What the hell are those things?" asked a nearby officer.

"No damn clue." responded Nines. "All I can say for sure is that it doesn't look like they'll shoot us."

The Baron and the vanguard continued forwards ever further, the columns of the Forbidden District seemingly growing larger and larger. On the rocky ground ahead, a line of glowing material marked the outer bounds of the Forbidden District. As soon as the first troopers crossed it, an ear-splitting shriek went through the air.

Memories of Csilla and Tython immediately flooded through the Baron's brain.


[MOON CHILDREN!!!]
 

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Exegol, Phase 1
Engaging: Romund Sro Romund Sro
Nearby Allies: Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad , BB-610 BB-610 , Calix of Thyrsus


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As he cleaved through the darksider's arm, Jasper staggered back as well. The strain of his new injury was beginning to get to him. Lux Ultima was a claymore, and a moderately heavy one at that. Already that weight was becoming harder to manage. Continuing to use the imbued blade could spell disaster. With a reluctance, Jasper sheathed the sword on his back, drawing his own lightsaber. Old reliable. The weapon that had been with him since as long as he could remember.

“I must concede from my former declaration young master Jedi. I won’t bother trying to clone you. Your fate will be like the rest of my conquered enemies. Captured, and frozen in carbonite as just another trophy in my museum back home. You won’t die, but like me, when you finally escape you will be lost in a galaxy so unfamiliar to the one now you call home. Many generations removed…”

"Spare the details," Jasper shrugged. It was very clear he was beginning to get on the man's nerves. "They won't matter unless you win. You'd be better off saving your breath."

Jasper ignited his blue lightsaber, assuming a Makashi fencing opening. One foot forward, one foot back, blade pointed forward towards the ground. His organic arm was tucked firmly behind his back. The knight's lightsaber was no purger of darkness like the Lux Ultima, but his skill with it far surpassed anything he could do with the claymore. Two opponents, two blades. This was his element. When it came to sparring, Jasper knew how to give someone hell. Romund was about to have the most intense lightsaber duel of his life.

"You're move," the knight stated, giving a half bow.

It was time for round two.


 

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brilliant spoils of the weakest
FORBIDDEN DISTRCT, EXEGOL | DEATH TO THE HOLY
Allies: BOTM | Enemies: GA | NIO | Strike Team Tano | OPEN

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Ebony locks whipped in the wind as she looked over Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren 's handiwork. The circle for the ritual had begun to pulse. The ground itself was hungry, demanding blood... or perhaps something more. Never a true believer, the atmosphere challenged that. There was something more here; a power, unfathomable. It was enough to make a sorcerer drunk if they lost control, even momentarily. Perhaps the Mawite priests had been right all this time. Some would believe she had been reborn, too, in that temple on Korriban. Unlike some of her counterparts, she did not plan to waste that opportunity.

The woman pivoted to face the few who had followed her. They had been tracked down, rebroken, fearful that the dark lord had reawaken. They had thought her dead. There was power in their fear and their aversion. No part of her wanted their love; only their submission, and their blades. It was far from the army she had possessed when she was laid to rest. Two of Luminoth's knights, masked like their master had been. A padawan of hers who had named themselves a darth, and learned the consequence of such folly. Then the taken. Just townsfolk, ordinarily. The anzati chemicals from feedings had warped them into something else entirely. What they lacked in skill was compensated for in desperation.

"Pitiful," She spat, and the former padawan flinched. "But you will have to do. I sense a disturbance. Our guests have arrived, we should greet them."

And so the rag tag gang descended from the citadel, into the district below to meet the Jedi on landing. Maleva watched the skies from the ground in crimson armor. If the Mawites needed death, so be it. The day would come when she reminded those who survived the day who had spilled it in the name of their gods.
 

Amani leapt from the transport before it touched the ground, shielding herself from the initial barrage with her superior defensive skills, and splitting the enemies' focus. Once the rest of Windu landed shortly after, the area was engulfed in conflict. The Jedi cleared her mind, in no small part thanks to the echoing presence of Henna Ashina Henna Ashina , and moved to intercept a flanking band of Mawites.

There was worse confronting them than mere foot soldiers, however. The battlefield's dark aura grew heavier from the mere presence of its mightiest defenders. A coven of Sith Lords, ensuring that even if Exegol fell, it would only be done once rivers of blood had been spilt in its name. Amani swept her arm out, causing a ripple of raw Force energy to launch back her swarming attackers, "We need the gate!" She called through comms, refocusing herself, and making a beeline for the primary objective. The sooner they could bypass the entrypoint, the quicker reinforcements would be able to storm in.
 
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Location: Mawite Flagship

Objective: Keep advancing!

Nearby Allies: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el Calix of Thyrsus BB-610 BB-610

Nearby Enemies: Romund Sro Romund Sro Sisserith

The troopers kept up the pace, following the route one of their hackers was able to find just minutes ago after linking up with another Alliance unit. Rifle in hand Minerva stayed focused on what was ahead during their dash with boots thudding the floor. They had to reach the command bridge but the ship's monstrous crew made it incredibly difficult. As a veteran of two major boarding actions while a member of the Enclave she knew that was easier said than done. Gripping the weapon with renewed determination she thought.

We need to make this count.

Further thoughts were interrupted when the hacker from behind exclaimed to their commander.

"Sir, we're approaching one of the large holding pens that is the most direct route to the bridge from here. However, it is a good spot for an ambush..."

"Alright keep your guard up everyone but we push on through!" The lieutenant declared in the middle of the advancing troops.

Minerva said nothing in response but she did have a bad feeling about this. Seeing the other side of the latest hallway they're running in she readied herself. Subsequently they slowed down as they neared the next section. If any hostiles were in there, they would hear them by now. The sergeant fired a flare shell into the room, brightening for them to see.

Minerva gritted her teeth once the horrid holding pens were revealed with a number of the troopers gasping or cursing in reaction. Inside were mangled bodies and shattered bones inside the closest pens and some on the outside. Putting an end to the Maw won't stop all the evils in the galaxy but their destruction will be a universal blessing as far as she was concerned.

Screeches followed and the flurry of wings above were heard. Glaring upwards the Mandalorian and her comrades opened fire lighting up the ceiling in crimson shade. Then immediately more than a dozen mutated Geonoasians dive down in a mad frenzy. A few troopers in front were grabbed and lifted to the air screaming in terror before being butchered. The others fell back to the hall to avoid the same fate as they kept shooting, downing some but they were so fast as they flew around the large room.

As that happened Mawites appeared out of the holding pens to shoot at the intruders. An ambush indeed! The sergeant responded with multiple grenade shots with his launcher, killing a few and wounding more and forcing the rest to cover.

Realizing they can't drag this out for too long, Minerva suddenly rockets into the room while the mad Geonoasians are still flying overhead. They zeroed in on her but she ascended into the eye of their storm. At the last possible moment she unleashed twelve whistling birds from her right jet boot. With their familiar whistle the little missiles flew around like angry hornets each striking and killing an enemy.

Most of the winged mutants fell down to the ground but one tackled Minerva, causing her to drop the rifle. Screeching right at her helmet the rage filled being attempted to bite on it but she struggled against him as they wrestled in the air. Simultaneously the Alliance troopers launch a counterattack against the Mawites on the ground.

Spinning as they struggled, Minerva thought fast as she used the enemy's momentum to push her before increasing speed with the jetpack. At the last moment she swung her opponent around for him to be slammed head into the wall with a loud clang. Some black blood splattered on Minerva's helmet and right shoulder before letting go of the new corpse before it fell.

Breathing heavily yet glad to be alive Minerva descended behind a pair of Mawities in taking cover in one pen. They had only a few moments to display their shock when Minerva unleashed her flamethrower in the left vambrace. Consumed by fire with dying roars they collapsed. She was about to draw her pistols when the shooting finally stopped as the Alliance soldiers cleared the room but at a heavy cost.

Coming out of the pen Minerva was tossed her rilfe by the sarge.

"Good job Mando but this isn't over."

Nodding she noted a dead Rodian in a torn alliance uniform. He looked so young. Before the unit could resume their advance they heard roars and shrieks coming from the next hall.

"Defensive positions!" The lieutenant ordered which was carried as the troopers including Minerva took cover.

Then the next wave of Mawities came out into light and room was filled with blasterfire once more.
 
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//: Exogal, Throne Room //:
//: Vesta Zambrano //:

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Quinn frowned upon hearing the woman's answer. She had known the truth, but hearing it only made it valid. There was hope, maybe they could leave the pain of this galaxy and go back to how it used to be. Eyes caught the shift of the sleeve. Quinn raised her eyebrow understanding what had happened. Once more her heart ached. If only she could have been better, stronger, and more understanding - maybe this all wouldn't have happened.

A finger caught the single tear that fell from the woman's eye. Quinn had moved closer, she didn't fear what Vesta had become or what was going to happen. The smaller woman remained close, taking in what felt to be their last moments. She didn't want to think it was the end of everything, but something in her gut told her it was time. Reaching out, she caressed the fabric of the empty sleeve and sighed. "I don't blame you," She started, her eyes finally looking at Vesta's face. "Your journey hasn't been the kindest to you."

If only my love was enough for you. She thought quietly and nodded, "I think we're in the same place." Quinn stepped in closer, minimizing whatever space was left between them, "I had to see you one more time. A part of me hopes you want to see me before you do what I think you're going to do. Just one more time?" It was hard, but Quinn understood.

"Let me go with you."
 

Vesta

Guest
V




LocationExegol, Throne Room
EnemiesGalactic Alliance | The Empire | Ashlan Crusaders | Mandalorians | Sith Order
AlliesBrotherhood of the Maw
EquipmentFaithless
Interacting Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin Her | Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis Father
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It had been like this the night they had met, hadn't it?

It was a thought that came to her mind in a fluctuation of emotions and recollection rather than words voiced by some inner monologue. The tables were turned, this time, and perhaps the result of it wouldn't be quite as sweet as she would have dreamed in the past, but it still felt not quite so dissimilar as that leap of faith that had launched a would-be assassin into a tryst that ruined both of their lives in the way today was cementing that relationship to be. She felt nostalgia intermingling with the depression that had swelled up inside of her over the last several months, like the sensation of waking from sleep and being unable to recall the contents of a dream while somehow still knowing precisely what she had felt at the time she had experienced it.

She had been so many different people, so many different identities, that sorting things out and deciding what was real and what had been pretend was an impossible task. There were two things she was certain of: she had loved her, and she wasn't good for her. Everything in life before the manic break she'd gone through had been about lifting up the Echani in a galaxy that had provided her with the cruelty of knowing an easy, pleasant, life only to rip away much of it in favor of constant, steady, hardship that made the past a much more appealing point than the present. Whether it had been a masculine frame of mind or a feminine one, regardless of if she'd been the flawless child of a tyrant of a man or the shapeshifting sith assassin that wanted an identity of her own, there had always been a singular desire in her heart and mind that remained.


"You're asking me for too much."

This wasn't then, a night a dozen years in both of their pasts, it was today - that night's future, the present. Time had altered the trajectory they'd been on, pulled the two of them apart like gravity tugging her back down from space, and as much as the galaxy had changed so had they. Every decision she had been had originated in a move to act as spitefully as possible, certainly, and maybe it had transitioned into something not quite as shallow through her desire to be able to live a life that wasn't dictated by the actions of others or the force but that had just been a justification to herself for her own actions. The root of why she had acted the way she had now, searching for something so nebulous as freedom, was the same reason she had latched on so tightly to Quinn then. The midpoint in their lives, the same night the two had nearly lost each other on Bastion, had been spent in a cave discussing things that seemingly meant very little to the two of them - at the time perhaps coming across as confusing ramblings of a couple that were trying to process what had just happened to them.

In hindsight, and in reality, it had been an extremely vague and roundabout way for the Shi'ido to open up just a little into her own truth. Nothing quite so sinister as a plot to takeover the galaxy, yet also not quite so mundane as her feelings for her then-paramour on the surface level. She had delved in deep, so deep in fact that without context there was no meaning to the words she'd said except to chalk it up to philosophical ramblings by a woman that lacked social understanding. Talks about purpose, about comparing herself to something as pedestrian as a hunk of iron in the shape of a sword, came across as maybe overanalytical of herself - harsh criticism by a girl that had been raised in a culture that emphasized usefulness of the individual to the whole, of how important one could be to the greater Sith Empire, as the daughter of its Shadow Hand of herself in context of her failure as a 'weapon' - rather than the overly blunt explanation that it had actually been intended to be.

She found herself resisting the urge to rest her chin against Quinn's head, deciding the two weren't quite so familiar with each other anymore despite the closeness the Echani princess was trying to insist they still had. Still, she pictured in her head the missing limb she'd left behind on Selvaris being used to cup the chin she was certain she'd never touch again, and sighed. "I'm.. I am not doing this because of you." She said softly, softer than she remembered her voice being capable of. She considered, for a moment, that maybe that wasn't the best way she had to explain her motives, and perhaps it wasn't even the most accurate, but she didn't take it back after that moment had passed, either. Her life had gradually moved on from simply living to be someone more than her parents' child, something that she wasn't actually even in the first place, but that initial search for an identity of her own, for an appearance that she crafted to look in the mirror and see her own face staring back at her rather than a facsimile of someone else's that she'd taken for her own, was one that had molded her into who she was today as much as the circumstances of her 'birth'.


"I don't want you to follow me."

There was a subtle difficulty in providing the necessary inflection in her voice there, at the end of her sentence, that matched the light redness that dotted her cheeks as she forced herself to maintain composure. In spite of her soul-searching and constant games of philosophy in questioning what it meant to be a person, she was Vesta. She might have been the second attempt, the substitute, for a child - a real child - that her parents had named the same as her first, but she had lived that life and shaped her own journey. It just.. took her too long altogether to realize that personhood wasn't a matter of establishing one's self as genuine, as original. It was out of her control, like most things, but also incapable of impacting her further than her own self-confidence. For many the lure of the dark side had been a sharp pull towards power or control, perhaps through revenge or because of avarice, but it had hardly ever been something that came across as inevitable like it had for her. From the very first conscious thought she had in life her mind had been set on revenge, to murder the child of her mother's killer, but that vendetta died with her hatred for the blond that now wiped away tears from her face like nothing had ever happened in the first place. It would have been easy to pin that as her fall to the dark side, so early on in life for her, but the truth of the matter was that her fall was much more gradual and came far later than that.

"You don't belong where I am going." She said, deciding at last that at least physical touch wasn't too much to ask for - her remaining hand's fingertips reaching gingerly for the one that had caressed her empty sleeve. An appeal to emotion only got her so far, though, and she knew it never went quite as far as it needed to go whenever it came to her and Quinn. "I lived half of my life believing I was less of a person because I'm not.. I wasn't," She continued, her voice trailing off with subtle frustration at the difficulty in finding the proper words to explain things right. "Believing I wasn't real because I was little more than a clone to substitute for a real daughter to live her life for her." Vesta said after a short pause, the intonation of her speech shifting nearly as chaotically as a younger Vesta's face might have and twice as fast. "Loving you was as easy as it was hard.. trying to figure out whether I even was a person capable of.. personhood.. or if I was something closer to a droid, something like a tool that needed a purpose to exist for."

She wondered if the phrasing would evoke a recollection to their past, if it'd give Quinn an understanding only capable of with hindsight, or if her cryptic manner of communicating her thoughts and feelings in the past would remain obscure long after she was gone. She provided some hesitation, then, as she weighed what Quinn had said earlier against her own feelings on the matter. "I am, but I didn't understand that until it was quite a bit too late. I might've indicated that without understanding that you didn't exactly know what it was that had always troubled me." Vesta said. She leaned in, down, and decided that maybe closeness didn't matter this near to the end while she position her forehead against Quinn's. "I want you to blame me, because it is my fault that my life turned out the way it did - I did this to myself, on purpose. I don't want you to think there was ever anything you did.. anything you could have done that would've kept me from being as self-destructive as I ended up turning out to be."

She exhaled, slowly, through her nostrils, and shut her eyes for a moment or two to reflect on saying things out loud that she hadn't ever told another person before, despite all the opportunities for moments like this that had presented themselves to her in the past.
"I have nothing and no one, and I'm not going to pretend like I deserve anything more than that, I hate everything that led me to believe I was anything but capable of living a life for me and you without consideration towards everyone else - but I can't go back and change the past, and I can't change the future I've made for myself, either."

"For all the stupid decisions I've made I just want to have one that I can say was made by me without someone else forcing me to do it."


'I just want control over what little of my life I have left.'
 
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