Invasion Hope Never Dies | GA Invasion of TSE held Ziost and Tiss'Sharl

[Tulan Kor]

WAR INCARNATE

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER STORMTROOPER CORPS
SPECIAL OPERATIONS BRANCH
DEMON COMPANY
ALLIES: NIO l GA l Irveric Tavlar l Willan Tal l Tiberius l Kal Ostan l Captain Raith l Cotan Sar'andor l DECEASED Erskine Barran l Tiberius
Enemies: TSE l Irina Volkov l Valen l Sith Dominance l Jim Martin


"The essence of war is a violent struggle between two hostile, independent, and irreconcilable wills, each trying to
impose itself on the other." - Antarian Rangers Handbook

demon; noun
de·mon | \ ˈdē-mən \
variants: or daemon
plural demons or daemons
// 1a: an evil spiritangels and demons
// b: a source or agent of evil, harm, distress, or ruinthe demons of drug and alcohol addiction
// one that has exceptional enthusiasm, drive, or effectiveness


The Sith Soldiers were given the order to push forward, combing through the rubble of their own making. And on the outskirts, patrols went silent. Fireteams, squads, reconnaissance units were picked off, like clockwork. Like the brushstroke of a painter, Tulan was crafting another piece of artwork.

Iron sharpened Iron.

Tulan Kor was a practiced man. He had more experience than most soldiers in the entire New Imperial Army. He knew more handbooks, he knew more regulations, he knew more technical manuals, he knew more weapon systems, he knew more communication systems, he knew more anti-armor and armor platforms. He simply knew so much from doing so much. He was an expert in the field on the technical level- and at the operator level as well. His shooting was refined, practiced week in and week out. He was a well-trained, well-heeled machine of warfare.

The Demon may as well have been war incarnate.

He knew patrol routes, route planning, mapwork, terrain association, room clearing, machine gunnery, indirect fire coordination, and so far, had nearly perfected the use of every small-arms and medium weapon system in the New Imperial Arsenal.

War was natural to Tulan, weaponry was an extension of his hand. It had long been said that Tulan was like a finger of death, an instrument of the Grim Reaper and nothing more. A hollow shell of a man, shaped by years of constant warfare, into a lethal, unyielding killing machine.

His list of battles was impressive, but his victories were just as much so. He had killed Sith, Jedi, and too many soldiers from opposing armies to count. He was a one-man wrecking crew, a member of the Emperor's personal army at one point. The Sith had turned him into the monster he was, and like all the monsters, demons, and creatures from the stories- their creators eventually found themselves pitted against the thing they created.

Such was the case of the lone gunman following him.

The battlefield was rigid now, set lines and set communications, in a way. Combat was always fluid, but pitched battles had an ebb and flow. Tulan was waging war as best as one man could, and nearly a platoon-size element of forward units had fell to him. Their communications that he could intercept from the captured equipment indicated that they thought there was a much larger force.

Tulan however, was facing one man. A possible friendly, but he had the sensation of being tracked for quite some time. He saw him approaching, while Tulan was resting in what used to be a meadow near a farm. It had jagged rocks, exposed dirt, and deep gashes in the Earth from the bombardment. He uncapped one of the stimulants, jamming it into his leg. The sensation of being tired went away, replaced with a chemical high that was sure to burn out in a few hours.

Jim Martin was soft, fat in the face from years of peace and relative calm. Tulan was built like a soldier should be- strong in the arms and legs, and slender in the mdidle. Body fat had no place on him- he rarely had time to eat, so he relied mostly on high-density nutrient pastes or substitutes, resulting in a physique that was good, but a man that hadn't enjoyed a decent meal in months, weeks. Not that Tulan cared- sustenance was exactly that. Food was not a thing to be shared to him. The campaigns, the wars, the attacks, the skirmishes, the raids- he hadn't stopped for a long time. The meadow's grass softly blew, as Tulan stood near a rock, his rifle at the high ready.

To most, that was an indication that he wasn't going to shoot him. In reality, Tulan could re-engage the man at the fair distance they were at fairly quickly- less than a second, with varying degress of accuracy. At this distance, he could probably land a shot- or if the man was quick enough, he might be able to scooch just enough out of the way. Then, the fight would be on.

But at the distance they were at- he didn't look like a Stormtrooper. Just a regular man.

"Go home. You don't have to die here."

Tulan showed mercy, when warranted. He did not know the man's situation, or need the force to know that he was on a mission. But he didn't need to die here.

Tulan killed enough people today. He didn't need to kill someone who didn't deserve it.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Easy for you to say, your side is winning."​

"Sure doesn't sound like it." As if on queue, another undulous rumble shook the shelter. His eyes turned upward just in time to follow a wisp of soil leaing from the ceiling and scattering onto the ground. "But I know what you meant," he continued. In the grand scheme of things, it had been hard to tell. The fact that they were right back to Ziost was contrary to her sentiment. "Maybe," he affirmed toward how easy it may have been to voice such assurances. It was true that from his position, that likely everything was easier, but that changed nothing. "It's still true, either way. Even if it really doesn't feel like it."

Am I really giving a Sith words of encouragement right now? Sapphire regard drifted from the fire, to his feet, to the aimless black around them. More than a little awkward, more than a little turbulent, and figuring out what to look at had somehow become a challenge in this atmosphere. In his drifting, a glimpse of her flame-illuminated features drew his own toward the fire at her lead. It was unsetting to look at, but somehow it held his attention with fluttering hypnotism.

"The only way this ends is if one side is eradicated,"​

"Yeah," he replied with soft vacancy. "Seems that way sometimes." A quick tug released the restraint on his hair. Violent strands fell loose as he let his head slump back and create and audible thud against the wall. "Annihilation sure is exhausting," he quipped with parched, wry humor. "Sometimes I just want to quit. It's like nothing I do makes a difference, for any cause."

 

[Kisaku Oroken]

Auteme Aaran Tafo Okkeus Dainlei | Alina Tremiru Darth Strosius Saket Keane

Who was that that Aaran had mentioned? Okkeus, Auteme, himself - they were all accounted for. One name he had given Alisteri had vacancy however. Through the meld, Aaran could feel something that Alisteri, and the other sith might be unaware of.​

​

To the flank of the sith party, where the hallway made a ninety degree turn that they had just turned to encounter the ensemble of jedi a flash of purple light lanced through the wall. The blade progressed smoothly, shearing through durasteel compartment hull as if it parting cobwebs. It carved an 'L' shaped cut into the wall before suddenly retracting.​

​

The edges of the cut smoldered a bright molten orange, slowly dimming as the presence of the blade itself was removed. SCCREEREEEEEEEEEEE!​

The hull screamed like an animal in agony as an unseen force rolled the metal away from the corner of the cut that had been made. Peeling itself away to create a hole that a jedi padawan of diminutive stature stood in, hand outstretched. Bandages wrapped around his slender form under a very traditional coffee colored tunic. He stepped through the hole produced with his bare feet padding upon the cold steel, his blade still humming like an animalistic growl of a predator enjoying the hunt.​

​

"Sorry to keep you waiting." The voice he spoke with matched his frame. It was light, and yet matched the dichotomy of his presence. It carried despite its subdued tone as he took up a high ward with his hands above his head and the blade of his lightsaber angled downwards towards Alisteri's back, about five meters away from him and where the rest of the fighting currently took place.​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective III - Eviction
Equipment: In signature
Allies: TSE Sith Dominance Valen
Enemies: GA NIO Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka Asmundr Varobalder
​

She felt the light approaching, wielded by the unknown Jedi, although his identity at least would be known soon enough. His light pushed against an outer hook of the clouds, dissipating them for the moment, enough for him to reach them. In her mind's eye, and in the currents of the Force, she could see and feel Zark and Asmundr drawing on the light, crafting a defense against the oncoming storm. A small smirk tugged at the corner's of her lips as she felt the conviction in the Force of the Jedi, their harmony, their meld. The light was pushing against the storm, trying to force it up and into the Behemoth. They were assuming what sort of storm and ritual that had been conjured and how it would act, and it would be their folly.

Because why would she ever create just some boring old Force Storm?

"My Lady, a Master Zoryu of the New Jedi Order has arrived," the voice from the perimeter commander announced. Taeli didn't stir from her meditation, her observations, but standing orders were to escort the Jedi to her. She didn't know this Zoryu at all, but she had a feeling he had specialized in Force Light, as so many Jedi did nowadays, judging from his brief blast on his approach. He would be escorted to where Taeli was sitting, cross-legged, in front of the ritual circle of Sith masters and runes. Armor plating from a bygone era rested in piles near her, and she would finally open amethyst eyes once the aged Master arrived.

She took in his appearance, and yes, she could see what he was going for. A Consular of the Light, right down to choosing white as his robe colors. His staff sang of the power of the light side, imbued no doubt as a way to focus its vibrancy.

"Master Zoryu," she greeted easily. "I'm afraid you have me at a slight disadvantage as I don't recall your name in the first iteration of the New Jedi Order. Please," she gestured for him to take a seat or stand across from her, "we have so much to discuss and so little time to do so in. You desire to end the ritual taking place behind me, the one that threatens the remaining Alliance and New Imperial reinforcements on this ancient Sith world, and I desire the immediate eviction of those same forces and for you all to leave the Stygian Caldera altogether."

She looked over shoulder at the ritual, the focii at its center pulsing rapidly and the Sith masters continuing their chant. Seconds away now.

"To force upon you both the seriousness of that conviction, and the limited time you have to solve this dilemma, a demonstration," she continued, a slight gesture of her hand and a little dark side energy conjuring a real time image of New Adasta, star of light and all. The storm clouds were now all around it, lightning arcing and snapping. Parts of the storm were indeed being ballooned upwards towards the Super Star Destroyer, but much still whirled around the battlefield. Behind her, Darth Kizian gave a command in the Sith language. The focii pulsed one more time... and the storm reacted.

Lightning changed to jet black, a fell wind keeping it in place. For three weeks, the Sith magic unleashed during the first attack had charged the atmosphere, primed it for the second ritual. This ancient world of the Sith was anathema to Jedi, much like Korriban was, and the light was hard pressed here to begin with. Zark and Asmundr would quickly realize that Taeli and her sorcerers had not been created a destructive Force Storm... it was an altering ritual, one of her own design. It combined ancient Sith alchemy, Dathomiri magic, and knowledge gleaned by observing previous workings done on Ziost itself.

Black lightning would strike a soldier or two, rending their physical form from existence... but their spirit on the other hand... would be reshaped. The death unleashed by the Behemoth, by the invasion and battles of the past three weeks, fueled something far more insidious. Where the soldiers had been, now stood a near unstoppable creature born of the dark side, something Ziost had only seen several thousand years ago. Monoliths were being reborn, forged from any Alliance or New Imperial soul the black lightning of Sith magic would strike, uncaring about energy shields or the star of light.

"So," she said, "lets begin."

OOC:

Spoiler

For all forces at New Adasta, the ritual has been unleashed. Only a few Monoliths will have been born yet, but the longer the ritual continues, the more it will alter. Light side can be used to shield individuals or to hold off strikes in spots for a time, as well as being indoors will help keep people safe from the magic
Captain Raith DECEASED Erskine Barran Irveric Tavlar Willan Tal Suri Vullen Cotan Sar'andor Jyoti Nooran Maynard Treicolt Aelys Kal Ostan Djorn Bline @others that I sure I am missing

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.




His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying the shock she clamped down on. She hadn't expected him to agree. She expected resistance, scorn, or the end of the cease fire that apparently still held firm.

Even at war.

Despite the patterns of their past, his palms remained empty of weapons. Even more unsettling was his gaze. It was empty-- void of the hatred she knew all too well. She almost didn't know what to do without it. The damaged walls rattled with the sounds of another impact. She grimaced and shied back, her torso sliding down the wall and to the ground. The hall was poorly lit. The only light poured in from the shattered opening they had scooted through.

Another boom rattled the world; the disruption was normal now. She flinched all the same, her nerves clearly raw. All the while he... he stood there... numb and unaffected. A chill grew up her spine as she observed him.

She knew him as a boy full of fire-- spunk-- he blistered with emotions that bleed out of him like a raging river. They were his fuel, like they were hers. Now he was barely more than a husk. She had seen this phenomena before in others. Fallen others.

He wasn't calm, he was checked out.


"I get it, you know. What you're feeling. Or what you're not." She looked away from him and tucked her knees up.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's eyes narrowed indignantly. "What, is this a therapy session now?" A hypocritical rebuke coming from him. His habit of well-intentioned hypocrisy was well observed by this point, but now, rather than well-intentioned, it tasted more of defiant phlegmatics. After a few steps, arms crossed over his chest, he sat on the remains of what was once a wall, or some other architectural feature. Impossible to really tell at this point.

"I'm just tired," he said. As if all dissent to her gesture had suddenly deflated from him along with the sigh that had preceded it. "There's always fighting. I'm always fighting, you know?" Dual sapphires gazed vacantly down at his boots over the dirt. Memories of the last decade flashed, all drowned in scapes of war and strife. Always fighting, as a child, and now in the earliest years of manhood. All of them flooded the force-presence of his vicinity, murking the mental space.

Suddenly, his throat opened to emanate a strange noise. A strange laughter unfitting to the atmosphere. "No, no-" he rebuked with feigned amusement. "I see what this is," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't do that," he accused. "Clever, I'll hand it to you, but you're not going to get anything out of me that way." Either hand gripped tight around his knees, leaning forward with pressure on his heels. "Don't try to play me like that."

Denial.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her face softened in confusion, her intentions quickly misconstrued to the very damn thing he had done to her. Typical. "What-... oh feck off. I couldn't care less what side of the force you use. It's all the same; we all use it the same."

Another vibration violently shook the ground under them, sending down a wave of dust from ceilings. Her expression tightened at the timely accusation of her point. Would this structure hold? Or should they take their chances back in the open air? She didn't have answers. She curled in tighter, trying to ignore the hole that throbbed subtly inside her chest.

Was that corruption? Or just pain? It was hard to tell them apart anymore. She looked up to the husk of a boy mirroring her stance.

"I don't want anything from you," Her expression closed off. The rare hand she had extended was pulled back just as fast. Always a bad idea.

"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A rebuke spat from his lips in Zeltron, a hidden insult. "That's not what I meant- You- Whatever, forget it." Even in the vaguest kind of confiding, friction reared its ugly head. A smaller extension of the larger conflict, or the manifestation of deeper a contention?



"You asked me to stay!" he protested. Standing up, he loomed overhead, raising his voice further. "You dig around in my head, think you can tell me how I feel, then what? Just tell me to delta!?" As the ground shook again, he stood, feet planted, unwavering. "Don't give me that, you want nothing from me, you asked me. I'm trying to oblige, not play games. So, what?"

Unshielded minds left sensations and emotions thick on the air. Intentions, however, clouded. As was the nature of the dark side. "You want help with that gaping sensation in your chest? You just tryin' ta' bait me into striking you? Or you really want me to go like you didn't just cry for help? What?"

"What do you want?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I don't know!" She screamed, her tension exploding into a burst onto her feet. Her shoulders had grown tighter as he stood-- raising his voice and looming over her. It had transported her backwards. Suddenly she was small. Helpless. Chained down with no control over who she was.

Even as a slave she had felt trapped. Nothing had changed, yet everything about her was different. She shoved him back, buying herself space to breathe. If he was expecting an abrupt fight, he would be left cold. She took another step back, her fingers dragging frantically through her hair. Her energy was erratic, out of her own control.

"I don't know," she near sobbed, yanking on her roots in an attempt to ground herself. It didn't work. The ground rumbled. The corruption pulled insistantly at her core. The Jedi's eyes bore into her. Beyond them both was death. Mindless, heartless death.

She couldn't bare it. Who in their right mind could?

"You're the only one on this godforsaken world that wants me alive. I just thought we-" might understand each other. Her fingers went limp in her hair as she realized how foolish that sounded.

"Forget it." She moved to shove past him, her cheeks red with an emotion she couldn't place.

Embarrassment.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"You don't know!?" he shouted back, even after she'd devolved to diminished sobbing in reply. "I didn't have to pick your sorry ass up out of the dirt, you know? The least you could do is not be so damn difficult!" On the verge of a more potent conniption, he was beginning to question why he even bothered. Was there really any point in trying to help someone that appeared so unwilling? Had he the space for self-analysis, he might have realized he hadn't really been acting very different. It was always more convenient to ignore those realities.




The indignation over his visage swirled into a squinting focus, slightly slacked jawed in heed. The tail end of the sentiment didn't manifest on lips, though from the vague empathic tinge of intent, it was all at once deciphered nonetheless. "Hey-" he manufactured a time-buying response as he processed everything in his head. No longer shouting, intonations aimlessly hesitant. "I'm not trying-"




A half step back. Hems and haws gasped and sputtered in protest before she made impact. "Wait-" was all he managed to articulate before she shoved past. Spinning with the momentum, he quickly hissed in a sentiment of impatience in his own language. Reaching out, he snatched for her arm with both reproach and guidance. "Hey!" he cried. Once the followthrough had spun her around, both hands would retreat away, each in a pacifistic palm-showing gesture. A half step back accentuated his unthreatening stance.

The very brief staredown felt like an hour. "Look, I'm-" He made noise with his throat and tongue that inflected begrudgingness. "Sorry." The involuntary scratching to the back of his head betrayed the scowl locked intentionally on his face. "I understand," he affirmed in a muffled continuation. "But you need to use your words instead of getting all scrappy," he added suddenly, sharply, trying to maintain the ill-mannered blase facade.

Another lingering silence stagnated betwixt them. A nebulous gesture toward an unimportant direction, conflicted and unsure manifested before he crossed his arms. A defensive stance as if retracting the movements altogether. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, defeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I tried using my words, you called it a therapy session," she snuffed back, indignant and strangely bruised about it all. Her chest heaved with heavy emotion, the moment feeling so out of control. How did they get here? Their dynamic was a like a pendulum, swinging erratically from one spectrum to another.

She wrapped her arms around herself, finally turning to face him in full. A lingering silence drifted between them. Her lips pulled into a purse as she studied his posture... his words... his very being seemed to be retracting again. Her own frustration snuffed out, something akin to guilt flickering through her.

"I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, me--"

The structure vibrated again, a tile from the ceiling dropping between them. Aradia jerked back with a gasp, the world around them whipping back to her attention. "Feth, they're going to flatten this place," she hissed, frustrated.

"Come one, there's durasteel rooms deeper in. We'll be safer there," She offered, gesturing deeper into the rumbled unknown.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One couldn't help but wonder why these durasteel shelters weren't crowded. Empty shells denied their usefulness by order of Sith Eternalism. Though, it wasn't as if there were many still living or planetside to make use of them anyway. The bland, featureless housing around them shook with every note in the bombardment meeting Ziost's surface.

It evoked anxiety for those beyond. If it was half as rough as it felt, there's no telling who was still kicking. Part of him wanted to turn, run into the rain of hell to do what he could. It would likely be his death, but the sense of duty still nagged the back of his mind nevertheless. Instead, he was stuck here in the bowels of a Sith Academy, in an empty durasteel box struggling to hold fast against the chaos above.

Empty, aside from her. Whether that was comforting or immensely disconcerting, he couldn't yet place. Somehow he figured the prospect of killing him wasn't entirely off the table for her. He was already here, risking neck and going pseudo-AWOL, and for what? To reaffirm that someone still had good in them just to inevitably fail on a solution again? To get to the bottom of what happened in an escape pod lost in space?

It was beyond frustrating, as internal uncertainties often were. Eternal recurrence had struck again, leaving the two of them more or less trapped in yet another non-ideal space. This time, it was arguably his fault, given that he shouldn't have even been here in the first place. Dust absconded from the walls with another tremor, forcing wisps of particles to dance around the stagnant shelter.

Knowing that he'd topple over eventually with Ziost's constant quaking, he shambled his way to a seat. Every moment anticipated accostation from the earpiece, but none came. How bad was it out there, really? The disturbance in the force that loss of life begets didn't feel any worse than usual, but surely that couldn't be right? Eyes drifted to the ceiling, wandering around like searching for something on the featureless steel.

The rumbling of tremors and long-muffled remnants of explosion soundwaves were but white noise for several minutes. "Bhesj! Are they trying to glass the place or what?" He made a face as a particularly jarring convulsion of the surface vibrated the chamber like a botched hyperspace emergence. Indistinct cursing in his alien tongue followed with a wince. It could have been worse, he could be topside right now. Instead, he'd defied instruction to follow the lead of that infatuating agitating thread. The phantasmal lead attached as a side effect of dual efforts for survival.

"So, uh-" A sudden boom and quaver forced him to pause, gritting his teeth with a hiss as he held on until it subsided, keeping words on the tip of his tongue. "I dunno, chit, are you good? You were-" he suddenly exclaimed a sound of displeasure. "Valle ke'dem, yeah, that's probably a stupid question, isn't it?" His head leaned down and turned into his fingers, floating above his elbow's perch on the armrest. Audible scratching of nails on scalp echoed curiously. "It's probably not as bad as you think it is, though. What you said earlier? About people wanting you alive? It's easy to feel that way, I know better than anyone probably, but it's never as bad as you think."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's features contorted in dry bitterness. "Easy for you to say, your side is winning."

She avoided the question about her emotional state, heat hitting her cheeks. That wasn't meant for him to see. That wasn't meant for anyone to see-- it was a weakness. She could hear her Master's voice in her ear. Caring was only going to get in the way of her progress. She could see the countless ways it had weakened her over the battles. She felt the cracks it was driving into her mind. War was not a place for empathy. Her conscious was going to get her killed.

Jend-Ro Quill 's talisman had left its mark on the sithling. In more ways than she understood.

She slid into the metal bench across from him, a small ball of fire providing light and faint warmth as they waited out the bombing in the depths of the fallen Academy.

"The only way this ends is if one side is eradicated," she stated, letting the emotions bleed from her voice. She stared blankly at the flames, the colors dancing across her vision.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Sure doesn't sound like it." As if on queue, another undulous rumble shook the shelter. His eyes turned upward just in time to follow a wisp of soil leaing from the ceiling and scattering onto the ground. "But I know what you meant," he continued. In the grand scheme of things, it had been hard to tell. The fact that they were right back to Ziost was contrary to her sentiment. "Maybe," he affirmed toward how easy it may have been to voice such assurances. It was true that from his position, that likely everything was easier, but that changed nothing. "It's still true, either way. Even if it really doesn't feel like it."

Am I really giving a Sith words of encouragement right now? Sapphire regard drifted from the fire, to his feet, to the aimless black around them. More than a little awkward, more than a little turbulent, and figuring out what to look at had somehow become a challenge in this atmosphere. In his drifting, a glimpse of her flame-illuminated features drew his own toward the fire at her lead. It was unsetting to look at, but somehow it held his attention with fluttering hypnotism.




"Yeah," he replied with soft vacancy. "Seems that way sometimes." A quick tug released the restraint on his hair. Violent strands fell loose as he let his head slump back and create and audible thud against the wall. "Annihilation sure is exhausting," he quipped with parched, wry humor. "Sometimes I just want to quit. It's like nothing I do makes a difference, for any cause."

Aradia's chest grew tight as the Academy walls rumbled. "Tell me about it," she breathed. Thoughts swirled behind her eyes, full of that pain he had so rudely snooped in on. He would be able to feel the mulling. She could feel his own emptiness; it was all that more pronounced down in the depths of the bunk.

"Everything I did here-- the risks I took. The people I betrayed. I can't tell if getting those acolytes out had any positive affect. Most of them are probably back here now. They're probably dead. I can't help but to think maybe we could have done more if we had stayed."

Her thoughts flickered to the strange jedi that had led her out, and to the youngest, whom she had... she had let escape. It all had felt so large back then-- like she had moved mountains. But then world rattled around her and she remembered where she was.

"Probably not," she concluded, the feeble emotion draining back out into an empty tone.

 

[Brama Tagge]

ALLIANCE COMMAND
PROSPERITY || BETWEEN TISS'SHARL AND ZIOST
SAVE A PRAYER

Dash was infinitely more adept at technology than his employer and had no reservations about diving into the system. It was intuitive and intelligent, offering him the information he was seeking almost seconds before he asked for it. Which was as impressive as it was questionable –– he'd never seen technology operate like this before, the artificial construct was mesmerizing and he hoped to survive this ordeal long enough to perhaps sit and discuss it with the manufacturers.

The youth's attention was broken by the departure of the Jedi Shadow that had been with them since Tiss'sharl.

"Senators... I cannot stay here for much longer..."
"...I need to help outside and secure this ship"
"You both will be safe here".

The curly-haired attendant's face fell, and he anxiously glanced to the senator to see what her response was.

Whatever internalization Brama might have been going through, her countenance remained listless. She only nodded in approval and unstrapped the rifle that was slung across her torso.

"I'm trying to hail Alliance One –– their comms are unreliable. I'm not sure what's going on out there." Dash admitted as if discussing the misfortune of others might relieve his stress from his own circumstances.

"Try a more personal channel," Brama suggested, though she didn't move from the door. Walking deeper into the situation room would make her feel more protected, and only prey needed to be protected. Even if she were behind blast doors, it wasn't a full admission of defeat. "Send a message to the Vice-Chancellor. I hope their fortune is as...good as ours.

At least we're surrounded by Jedi." Her thoughts trailed off, looking distant for a moment.

This war was fast becoming dire.

Dutiful as ever, Dash adhered and through Brama's inbox tried to tight beam a correspondence through to Aerarii Tithe to ensure their fortune with pursuit was as hopeful as theirs.

"Anything comes through that door," Brama started, turning to look at Jax Thio -- "I'll let you take first swing.

Sorry, Senator Du Couteau. You can have second. Though it is curious nobody directly pursued us. They either don't know we're here, or they don't care.

If it's the latter, I'm concerned for their intentions."

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Vexander Graves | Seto Du Couteau | Jax Thio
ENEMIES | TSE| Lark | Lakura Salim

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
Equipment: Armour, Rifle, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Loske Treicolt

The heavy slugs hit home - in part at least. Still, the abomination kept coming, growling like a beast. The creature's aura was feral, yet it was evidently more than a mindless beast. When Elpsis had been a little girl, her father - a label he did not deserve at all - had decided to introduce himself to her. Alas, he was a Sith Lord, and so there had not been any father-daughter bonding.

Unless abduction, mental and physical torture counted. He had found out that she liked animals, so he had shown her 'his beasts' - poor, abused animals his vile sorcery had twisted into mindless abominations. Now Xerexes was dead. Hopefully burning in the lowest circle of Chaos. Siobhan had killed him, and his daughter had broken and humiliated him when they crossed paths in the Nether, where he'd held no power.

The fallen phoenix felt a stab of sympathy for the twisted creature before her. Shikoba's words came back to her. Body of an abomination, face of a woman. Did this mean she had been human once? It did not matter. Jedi might waste time trying to reach out to a foe who was an evident threat and trying to kill them. Elpsis was no Jedi. She was a soldier.

The Force screamed a warning inside her mind. The augurs narrowly alerted her to the huge chunk of metal the creature had hurled through the air. And through the Force, she perceived the creature behind it, for Elpsis did not see in the conventional sense. Her physical eyes had been dead ever since a reactor explosion aboard the Omega blinded her. Instead she borrowed the power of the Eternal Flame that was the Force to see. It had the neat side-effect of allowing her to see the Sithspawn who was right behind it.

It hurt to move it, but her left arm became fire as blazing, incandescent heat coursed through it. The glowing cracks inside her face burnt more fiercely, as if she was showing a literal inner fire. The wildfire inside her erupted in a bright beam of heat shooting through the air. Such was its intensity that it sliced right through part of the metal, and continued to shoot towards the Sithspawn. It would probably be difficult to evade it in time.

However, broken chunks of metal still crashed on Elpsis, falling upon her outstretched left arm. White-hot pain flooded when metal smashed her wrist. If the pain and the cracking sound of broken bones had not been enough to clue her in, the fact that her fingers were stiff and misaligned certainly did.

xxx

The eyes of the surviving crew were glued to the security screens. They saw flames, laser swords, and salvoes of heavy blaster fire. They saw blasts of ice, lightning and flame consume beasts, and they saw a scarlet lightsabre wielded by an armoured warrior spewing savage war cries slice creatures apart. They saw creatures ambush the squad, falling upon them in a flurry of claws and limbs.

But whoever the unknown, increasingly bleeding and battered boarders were, they persevered- It had lit a spark of hope - but also trepidation. The sounds of battle were drawing nearer, as a squad of soldiers seemed to be fighting its way towards the control room. For a long time, they remained silent, as if fearing that the utterance of a single word would tear them from their dream and cause them to awaken with the abomination's claws tearing their throats out.
Finally, one of them broke the silence. "Look, they're getting closer," he declared excitedly, pointing at one of the screen. "We could make a break for it."
"Are you crazy?" a female technician yelped, sounding afraid. "You've seen how many of those monsters are out there. And don't get forget about that thing."
"Stop it," Lorn Pelles ordered sharply - or at least tried to sound sharp and authoritative. "They're coming closer, so are the monsters. Get blasters ready...for whatever happens."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One eye peeked out from the backward angle and veil of violet that hung over his face. The flickering glare of flame cast a warm sheen over it, accentuating the pointed gaze. It lingered, giving the impression that he was on the verge of saying something. However, as moments began to pass, each betrayed that notion. Finally, a slow, sluggish raise of his shoulders preceded an unceremonious droop. Who knows, or, oh well, it must have said.

Probably not, was what it had really meant. Lacksidasical agreement not begetting effort. Not as if outward affirmation was what she wanted to hear in that regard, anyway. At least not where futilities were concerned, regardless of how realistic it was. Even if one should be expected to be realistic about these things, at some point, input wasn't helping anymore.

The bombardment punched into Ziost again, forcing the chamber to murmur yet again. More dust and soil shook loose, falling in a grainy stream. It rolled off a phantasmal shield in front of Zaavik's face before scattering through the bench grating beneath him. Not wanting a surprise face full of grime, he sat back up. Gazes met, and Zaavik pursed his lips and made an uncomfortable, empathetic face. He turned a cheek to look at the hardly illuminated floor.

One would think being trapped in a confined space with someone for a second time would be easier than the first. It wasn't. Far less turbulent, but that tension was replaced with something gray, somber, nebulous. A sullen pair seeking solace in either the other, or resolution. How do you talk to a Sith? Do you pretend that either of you hasn't been inches away from putting the other in the ground in the past? Maybe it was hypocritical, seeing that directly or otherwise, Zaavik was responsible for as many bodies as a Coruscant cemetery.

Maybe thinking he was any better was just an illusion of righteousness.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Aboard the Prosperity
Objective 2: Destroy the Meditation Chamber aboard the Prosperity
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: TSE / Terrible Trio
Enemies: GA / NIO
Tags: Alina Tremiru / Saket Keane / Auteme / Kisaku Oroken / Okkeus Dainlei / Aaran Tafo / First Sister
-----------------------------------------

He glanced back as Saket approached, almost tempted to give the Jedi a chance to surrender. Three Sith on one Jedi, those were impossible odds in his mind. Then his friend spoke. "The talker?" The next thing he knew his masked friend had leapt at the Jedi with the intent to kill, and Alina wasn't far behind. ...Huh. I guess they must know him...

Alisteri's hand drifted to his side and rested on his lightsaber, but he didn't draw it yet. Saket and Alina versus one Jedi who hadn't even drawn a blade in defense? An easy win.

And then it wasn't.

All of a sudden, almost all at once from his perspective, both of his friends were engaged by two more Jedi. Well...chit. A growl escaped him as he unclipped his weapon from his belt, about to ignite it and move to help Saket when one of their opponents spoke to him. Hm...the talker indeed. There was a brief moment of silence after the 'talker' spoke before Alisteri scoffed and activated his sabre. "You must think me a fool, even more so than you Jedi scum, to say such things. Three on three, that's even enough to me."

Saying a fourth name just to try and trip him up, a cowardly tactic.

His eyes narrowed, leveling his blade at the Jedi as he continued. "And don't even give me that 'I don't want to hurt you' chit. You've aligned yourselves with traitors and heathens time and time again, you've occupied a city full of our people and invaded several worlds. You intend nothing but harm, you honorless Hutt-spawn."

Right as he was about to charge at this 'talker' however, he heard something behind him. Turning his head just in time to see a fourth Jedi...step out of a hole in the wall behind them...and wearing a blindfold nonetheless. As the new opponent readied himself, only one thought was in his mind.

The feth is wrong with these heretics?!

Another growl left him as he turned to face the Padawan, casting a glance to his fellow Sith as he got into an offensive stance. "Four on three, finally an even fight eh?" With that he sprung forward, covering the distance between himself and the Jedi in but a single step as he leapt at his opponent. After all, he was blind and wasn't even wearing shoes.

How hard could he be to defeat?

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.




His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying the shock she clamped down on. She hadn't expected him to agree. She expected resistance, scorn, or the end of the cease fire that apparently still held firm.

Even at war.

Despite the patterns of their past, his palms remained empty of weapons. Even more unsettling was his gaze. It was empty-- void of the hatred she knew all too well. She almost didn't know what to do without it. The damaged walls rattled with the sounds of another impact. She grimaced and shied back, her torso sliding down the wall and to the ground. The hall was poorly lit. The only light poured in from the shattered opening they had scooted through.

Another boom rattled the world; the disruption was normal now. She flinched all the same, her nerves clearly raw. All the while he... he stood there... numb and unaffected. A chill grew up her spine as she observed him.

She knew him as a boy full of fire-- spunk-- he blistered with emotions that bleed out of him like a raging river. They were his fuel, like they were hers. Now he was barely more than a husk. She had seen this phenomena before in others. Fallen others.

He wasn't calm, he was checked out.


"I get it, you know. What you're feeling. Or what you're not." She looked away from him and tucked her knees up.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's eyes narrowed indignantly. "What, is this a therapy session now?" A hypocritical rebuke coming from him. His habit of well-intentioned hypocrisy was well observed by this point, but now, rather than well-intentioned, it tasted more of defiant phlegmatics. After a few steps, arms crossed over his chest, he sat on the remains of what was once a wall, or some other architectural feature. Impossible to really tell at this point.

"I'm just tired," he said. As if all dissent to her gesture had suddenly deflated from him along with the sigh that had preceded it. "There's always fighting. I'm always fighting, you know?" Dual sapphires gazed vacantly down at his boots over the dirt. Memories of the last decade flashed, all drowned in scapes of war and strife. Always fighting, as a child, and now in the earliest years of manhood. All of them flooded the force-presence of his vicinity, murking the mental space.

Suddenly, his throat opened to emanate a strange noise. A strange laughter unfitting to the atmosphere. "No, no-" he rebuked with feigned amusement. "I see what this is," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't do that," he accused. "Clever, I'll hand it to you, but you're not going to get anything out of me that way." Either hand gripped tight around his knees, leaning forward with pressure on his heels. "Don't try to play me like that."

Denial.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her face softened in confusion, her intentions quickly misconstrued to the very damn thing he had done to her. Typical. "What-... oh feck off. I couldn't care less what side of the force you use. It's all the same; we all use it the same."

Another vibration violently shook the ground under them, sending down a wave of dust from ceilings. Her expression tightened at the timely accusation of her point. Would this structure hold? Or should they take their chances back in the open air? She didn't have answers. She curled in tighter, trying to ignore the hole that throbbed subtly inside her chest.

Was that corruption? Or just pain? It was hard to tell them apart anymore. She looked up to the husk of a boy mirroring her stance.

"I don't want anything from you," Her expression closed off. The rare hand she had extended was pulled back just as fast. Always a bad idea.

"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A rebuke spat from his lips in Zeltron, a hidden insult. "That's not what I meant- You- Whatever, forget it." Even in the vaguest kind of confiding, friction reared its ugly head. A smaller extension of the larger conflict, or the manifestation of deeper a contention?



"You asked me to stay!" he protested. Standing up, he loomed overhead, raising his voice further. "You dig around in my head, think you can tell me how I feel, then what? Just tell me to delta!?" As the ground shook again, he stood, feet planted, unwavering. "Don't give me that, you want nothing from me, you asked me. I'm trying to oblige, not play games. So, what?"

Unshielded minds left sensations and emotions thick on the air. Intentions, however, clouded. As was the nature of the dark side. "You want help with that gaping sensation in your chest? You just tryin' ta' bait me into striking you? Or you really want me to go like you didn't just cry for help? What?"

"What do you want?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I don't know!" She screamed, her tension exploding into a burst onto her feet. Her shoulders had grown tighter as he stood-- raising his voice and looming over her. It had transported her backwards. Suddenly she was small. Helpless. Chained down with no control over who she was.

Even as a slave she had felt trapped. Nothing had changed, yet everything about her was different. She shoved him back, buying herself space to breathe. If he was expecting an abrupt fight, he would be left cold. She took another step back, her fingers dragging frantically through her hair. Her energy was erratic, out of her own control.

"I don't know," she near sobbed, yanking on her roots in an attempt to ground herself. It didn't work. The ground rumbled. The corruption pulled insistantly at her core. The Jedi's eyes bore into her. Beyond them both was death. Mindless, heartless death.

She couldn't bare it. Who in their right mind could?

"You're the only one on this godforsaken world that wants me alive. I just thought we-" might understand each other. Her fingers went limp in her hair as she realized how foolish that sounded.

"Forget it." She moved to shove past him, her cheeks red with an emotion she couldn't place.

Embarrassment.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"You don't know!?" he shouted back, even after she'd devolved to diminished sobbing in reply. "I didn't have to pick your sorry ass up out of the dirt, you know? The least you could do is not be so damn difficult!" On the verge of a more potent conniption, he was beginning to question why he even bothered. Was there really any point in trying to help someone that appeared so unwilling? Had he the space for self-analysis, he might have realized he hadn't really been acting very different. It was always more convenient to ignore those realities.




The indignation over his visage swirled into a squinting focus, slightly slacked jawed in heed. The tail end of the sentiment didn't manifest on lips, though from the vague empathic tinge of intent, it was all at once deciphered nonetheless. "Hey-" he manufactured a time-buying response as he processed everything in his head. No longer shouting, intonations aimlessly hesitant. "I'm not trying-"




A half step back. Hems and haws gasped and sputtered in protest before she made impact. "Wait-" was all he managed to articulate before she shoved past. Spinning with the momentum, he quickly hissed in a sentiment of impatience in his own language. Reaching out, he snatched for her arm with both reproach and guidance. "Hey!" he cried. Once the followthrough had spun her around, both hands would retreat away, each in a pacifistic palm-showing gesture. A half step back accentuated his unthreatening stance.

The very brief staredown felt like an hour. "Look, I'm-" He made noise with his throat and tongue that inflected begrudgingness. "Sorry." The involuntary scratching to the back of his head betrayed the scowl locked intentionally on his face. "I understand," he affirmed in a muffled continuation. "But you need to use your words instead of getting all scrappy," he added suddenly, sharply, trying to maintain the ill-mannered blase facade.

Another lingering silence stagnated betwixt them. A nebulous gesture toward an unimportant direction, conflicted and unsure manifested before he crossed his arms. A defensive stance as if retracting the movements altogether. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, defeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I tried using my words, you called it a therapy session," she snuffed back, indignant and strangely bruised about it all. Her chest heaved with heavy emotion, the moment feeling so out of control. How did they get here? Their dynamic was a like a pendulum, swinging erratically from one spectrum to another.

She wrapped her arms around herself, finally turning to face him in full. A lingering silence drifted between them. Her lips pulled into a purse as she studied his posture... his words... his very being seemed to be retracting again. Her own frustration snuffed out, something akin to guilt flickering through her.

"I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, me--"

The structure vibrated again, a tile from the ceiling dropping between them. Aradia jerked back with a gasp, the world around them whipping back to her attention. "Feth, they're going to flatten this place," she hissed, frustrated.

"Come one, there's durasteel rooms deeper in. We'll be safer there," She offered, gesturing deeper into the rumbled unknown.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One couldn't help but wonder why these durasteel shelters weren't crowded. Empty shells denied their usefulness by order of Sith Eternalism. Though, it wasn't as if there were many still living or planetside to make use of them anyway. The bland, featureless housing around them shook with every note in the bombardment meeting Ziost's surface.

It evoked anxiety for those beyond. If it was half as rough as it felt, there's no telling who was still kicking. Part of him wanted to turn, run into the rain of hell to do what he could. It would likely be his death, but the sense of duty still nagged the back of his mind nevertheless. Instead, he was stuck here in the bowels of a Sith Academy, in an empty durasteel box struggling to hold fast against the chaos above.

Empty, aside from her. Whether that was comforting or immensely disconcerting, he couldn't yet place. Somehow he figured the prospect of killing him wasn't entirely off the table for her. He was already here, risking neck and going pseudo-AWOL, and for what? To reaffirm that someone still had good in them just to inevitably fail on a solution again? To get to the bottom of what happened in an escape pod lost in space?

It was beyond frustrating, as internal uncertainties often were. Eternal recurrence had struck again, leaving the two of them more or less trapped in yet another non-ideal space. This time, it was arguably his fault, given that he shouldn't have even been here in the first place. Dust absconded from the walls with another tremor, forcing wisps of particles to dance around the stagnant shelter.

Knowing that he'd topple over eventually with Ziost's constant quaking, he shambled his way to a seat. Every moment anticipated accostation from the earpiece, but none came. How bad was it out there, really? The disturbance in the force that loss of life begets didn't feel any worse than usual, but surely that couldn't be right? Eyes drifted to the ceiling, wandering around like searching for something on the featureless steel.

The rumbling of tremors and long-muffled remnants of explosion soundwaves were but white noise for several minutes. "Bhesj! Are they trying to glass the place or what?" He made a face as a particularly jarring convulsion of the surface vibrated the chamber like a botched hyperspace emergence. Indistinct cursing in his alien tongue followed with a wince. It could have been worse, he could be topside right now. Instead, he'd defied instruction to follow the lead of that infatuating agitating thread. The phantasmal lead attached as a side effect of dual efforts for survival.

"So, uh-" A sudden boom and quaver forced him to pause, gritting his teeth with a hiss as he held on until it subsided, keeping words on the tip of his tongue. "I dunno, chit, are you good? You were-" he suddenly exclaimed a sound of displeasure. "Valle ke'dem, yeah, that's probably a stupid question, isn't it?" His head leaned down and turned into his fingers, floating above his elbow's perch on the armrest. Audible scratching of nails on scalp echoed curiously. "It's probably not as bad as you think it is, though. What you said earlier? About people wanting you alive? It's easy to feel that way, I know better than anyone probably, but it's never as bad as you think."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's features contorted in dry bitterness. "Easy for you to say, your side is winning."

She avoided the question about her emotional state, heat hitting her cheeks. That wasn't meant for him to see. That wasn't meant for anyone to see-- it was a weakness. She could hear her Master's voice in her ear. Caring was only going to get in the way of her progress. She could see the countless ways it had weakened her over the battles. She felt the cracks it was driving into her mind. War was not a place for empathy. Her conscious was going to get her killed.

Jend-Ro Quill 's talisman had left its mark on the sithling. In more ways than she understood.

She slid into the metal bench across from him, a small ball of fire providing light and faint warmth as they waited out the bombing in the depths of the fallen Academy.

"The only way this ends is if one side is eradicated," she stated, letting the emotions bleed from her voice. She stared blankly at the flames, the colors dancing across her vision.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Sure doesn't sound like it." As if on queue, another undulous rumble shook the shelter. His eyes turned upward just in time to follow a wisp of soil leaing from the ceiling and scattering onto the ground. "But I know what you meant," he continued. In the grand scheme of things, it had been hard to tell. The fact that they were right back to Ziost was contrary to her sentiment. "Maybe," he affirmed toward how easy it may have been to voice such assurances. It was true that from his position, that likely everything was easier, but that changed nothing. "It's still true, either way. Even if it really doesn't feel like it."

Am I really giving a Sith words of encouragement right now? Sapphire regard drifted from the fire, to his feet, to the aimless black around them. More than a little awkward, more than a little turbulent, and figuring out what to look at had somehow become a challenge in this atmosphere. In his drifting, a glimpse of her flame-illuminated features drew his own toward the fire at her lead. It was unsetting to look at, but somehow it held his attention with fluttering hypnotism.




"Yeah," he replied with soft vacancy. "Seems that way sometimes." A quick tug released the restraint on his hair. Violent strands fell loose as he let his head slump back and create and audible thud against the wall. "Annihilation sure is exhausting," he quipped with parched, wry humor. "Sometimes I just want to quit. It's like nothing I do makes a difference, for any cause."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's chest grew tight as the Academy walls rumbled. "Tell me about it," she breathed. Thoughts swirled behind her eyes, full of that pain he had so rudely snooped in on. He would be able to feel the mulling. She could feel his own emptiness; it was all that more pronounced down in the depths of the bunk.

"Everything I did here-- the risks I took. The people I betrayed. I can't tell if getting those acolytes out had any positive affect. Most of them are probably back here now. They're probably dead. I can't help but to think maybe we could have done more if we had stayed."

Her thoughts flickered to the strange jedi that had led her out, and to the youngest, whom she had... she had let escape. It all had felt so large back then-- like she had moved mountains. But then world rattled around her and she remembered where she was.

"Probably not," she concluded, the feeble emotion draining back out into an empty tone.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One eye peeked out from the backward angle and veil of violet that hung over his face. The flickering glare of flame cast a warm sheen over it, accentuating the pointed gaze. It lingered, giving the impression that he was on the verge of saying something. However, as moments began to pass, each betrayed that notion. Finally, a slow, sluggish raise of his shoulders preceded an unceremonious droop. Who knows, or, oh well, it must have said.

Probably not, was what it had really meant. Lacksidasical agreement not begetting effort. Not as if outward affirmation was what she wanted to hear in that regard, anyway. At least not where futilities were concerned, regardless of how realistic it was. Even if one should be expected to be realistic about these things, at some point, input wasn't helping anymore.

The bombardment punched into Ziost again, forcing the chamber to murmur yet again. More dust and soil shook loose, falling in a grainy stream. It rolled off a phantasmal shield in front of Zaavik's face before scattering through the bench grating beneath him. Not wanting a surprise face full of grime, he sat back up. Gazes met, and Zaavik pursed his lips and made an uncomfortable, empathetic face. He turned a cheek to look at the hardly illuminated floor.

One would think being trapped in a confined space with someone for a second time would be easier than the first. It wasn't. Far less turbulent, but that tension was replaced with something gray, somber, nebulous. A sullen pair seeking solace in either the other, or resolution. How do you talk to a Sith? Do you pretend that either of you hasn't been inches away from putting the other in the ground in the past? Maybe it was hypocritical, seeing that directly or otherwise, Zaavik was responsible for as many bodies as a Coruscant cemetery.

Maybe thinking he was any better was just an illusion of righteousness.

Aradia looked away in sync with him, her metal bench squeaking as she shifted uncomfortably.

Her thoughts drifted to the escape pod they had survived together. Everything about this moment was different, and yet everything felt distinctly similar. The darkness felt like a suffocating hug. The metal walls were the only thing between them and death. Circumstance had forced them to work together before. Now they were... what?

Sticking it to the man?

It felt strangely liberating. Even moreso, to watch him do the same. She was painfully aware of every mark they had left on each other. His back, her shoulder, his arm, her side. Through a long list of encounters, they had every reason to expect death by each others hands. Each moment was a tantalizing threat that she dived into.

In some ways, it was a game.

Who would prove the other right and pull the trigger first? Well it wouldn't be her. She picked at a scab at her wrist, dusts raining down over the unwavering flame.

"Who do you think will win this one?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Does it matter?" he shot back. A rhetorical, counter-inquiry bordering on reprimand. Shoulders slanted as he turned from the floor to acknowledge. "You're a traitor by your own admission, and knowing my luck I'm gonna be court-martialed the moment I'm off this rock." Better or worse, they'd both brought it on themselves, hadn't they? Decisions made in defiance of consequence. "So, the way I see it, we've both run out of stake in it." A sharp, vexed shrug punctuated his words.

Intensity suddenly faded from his face and released a pent-up breath laden with crestfallen acceptance. Conceding to her inquiry after having just attempted to dismiss it, he continued: "I guess my money's on whoever is trying to grind the planet to dust. It's either scorched earth or annihilation, and neither is exactly in the Alliance's MO, so that probably narrows it down." His eyebrows raised for emphasis, eyes retaining contact for longer than usual before wandering.

"I guess it could be worse," he mused. "You could be trying to kill me right now. The shelter could be collapsing. I could have been vaporized if I hadn't of pissed off to find you. Lucky day, huh?"

 

[DT-0800]

Location: Within the City
Enemies: The Amalgam
Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran
Equipment: DoomBringer Scattergun


DT had managed to surprise his target with a strike that had managed to send her tumbling down onto the streets below. He stood over the ledge, looking down at his enemy. Watching as how his attack had dislocated her jaw. Looking down he was prepared to fire more of his chainblaster in an effort to finish the job. He could teleport again, but DT didn't want to risk using the same tactic, and even if he wanted to. His power supply would be depleted with such a risky maneuver. He opted to save it for when he absolutely needed it the most. Despite doing some damage to her face, she looked ready to strike and none too pleased about a teleporting skin job and smacking her around with a heavy chaingun.

Looking at her unphased, with no emotion on his face. He readied the gun yet again. At that moment, however, he looked to the skies. His data-gathering going nuts. Alerting him to a serious change in the Battle.


Orbital Bombardment Incoming.....

DANGER.... DANGER RETREAT TO SAFE MINIMAL DISTANCE...

RETREAT... RETREAT.... DANGER!!!

And while DT's Data had gone haywire... Alerting him to the incoming bombardment, he wouldn't teleport, nor move... Not when he was so close to his target. Every fiber of his CPU told him to leave, to save himself. But he defied it, he defied the programming in order to accomplish his higher state of function. As the Turbolaser blasts rained down like hellfire. He only stood his ground. Some of the blasts hitting the position of both himself and his quarry. The blast was so close the intense heat ripped through parts of the Storm Armor, his living tissue or at least parts of it burned away. Even parts of his face.

Looking down when the bombardment finally stopped, looking down, and all-around was engulfed in ruins and flames all around. Some of the Metal Interior showed. A big red photoreceptor showed on the left side of his face The vision of the photoreceptor zooming in, as chunks of flesh slowly came off of him. Covered in a mixture of blood and metal. He looked down to see his enemy had fared far worse. He could see bone, and flesh in a mangled mess. Yet her form still remaining. She was an ugly sight to behold. But it showed that neither of the two combatants remained unscathed.

Rather than speak, he could feel or detect anger coming from her. As if she would try to kill him with everything she had. With some of the chassis exposed, he activated a droid shield. If only to absorb some of the stray bolts that came his way. With some Imperial Fighters within the sky. Looking up, he tried to identify the nearest one. As all around him the Data showed that the Sith were slowly retaliating.


Identifying various Sith Droid units...

Sith closing in on Imperial Forces... Seeking solutions.

Solution found.... Accessing Imperial Comms.

Accessing the comms to the closest fighter group he could find. The fighter pilot known as Arcturus Tal came to his HUD. Speaking despite being battle damaged, he got straight to the point. "Pilot Tai... I would require your assistance in strafing and bombing runs.... I'm detecting multiple hostile forces closing in on ours. I need bombing runs close to encamped city streets, and towards the arena. If not obliterate the enemy forces. Slow them down entirely. I will provide further instructions." He said as he cut off the comms, and while it may have seemed an odd sight for the pilot. DT recognized that air superiority was key to drive back and destroy additional Sith Forces.

The Chain Blaster damaged in the bombardment, he tossed it aside in favor of the Scattergun on his back. Pumping it to ready a round inside of it, he jumped from the ledge. Landing with a rubble-shaking thud. He slowly approached his enemy. The scattergun in both his arms, aimed towards her vicinity.

Target acquired: Amalgam..

Objective.... Terminate

Before he gave her a chance to do anything. The machine started to unload upon his foe. Pulling the trigger and being at such a close range. Sent rounds to start shredding into her flesh. She was able to take a lot of damage. But he wouldn't stop until he killed her. With slow heavy steps, he kept firing round after round, followed by pumping action to bring in a new round. If not to destroy her then to slow her down entirely. With a new plan entirely coming into his databanks.

 

[Adhira Chandra]

"Madam Chancellor," a gruff voice cut through the polite conversation in the officer's dining room of the High Command compound on Coruscant. Adhira and the other officers had been chatting politely during what seemed like a lull in activity on the front of Ziost. She was telling a joke about a Sith, a Jedi, and Droid walking into a bar when the sudden interruption caused her to pause and turn. Her bright red lips curled into a smile, but the dark circles under her eyes from days of not having a team redo her makeup properly belied the deep concern she had for what she was going to be told. The military officers looked up with the same concern and the mess seemed to fall silent.​

The officer who faced her stepped forward and pressed his lips to her ear. "Sith.... orbital bombardment... ritual..." she maintained the shell of calm and cool reserve that she was known for in public. A deep breath filled her lungs, giving her a few moments of thought as her dark eyes darted around the room. Not everyone there was privy to the top-secret details of the front and the ones that were looking at her for subtle cues. A deft hand went to her blood-red cape and pulled it up into her hand. "Excuse me, gentleman," she smiled at the group she had been joking with and like connecting dots, her eyes dotted around the room to the individuals who needed to follow her. They all nodded in turn and made their way in unison to the door with her at the lead.​

"The Sith have launched an orbital bombardment.... on their own damned world!" She cursed loudly as she and the rest of High Command spilled into the hallway with Senate Guard cutting off any potential pursuit or already having secured the hallways to the command center. Her chest rose and fell with great effort as she briskly made her way through the compound. "They're desperate and clearly willing to do anything to win this war... well I wont... I wont give them our soldiers," she heaved.​

"I need a secure tight beam to forward command and to Tavlar - no not the New Imperial Order Command - to Tavlar," she barked breathlessly as select grunt hurried ahead of her to make sure the room was ready when she arrived. The NIO and the TSE might be willing to throw the dead bodies of their own people at each other until the point of surrender, but Adhira would not follow them to that brink.​

​

The Chancellor had already made her decision by the time she reached the command center, even as the generals and admirals were just taking their places around the central table. The officers stood at attention, but Adhira ignored them as she swept to the head of the table and took her seat. "Is the tight beam ready?" she tapped the control panel on her chair and the projected face of the Forward Command officer appeared, "Admiral, I am ordering a full retreat of all Alliance forces from the surface of Ziost. Get as many of our people into the air as you can. We need to focus all fire on their ships, I will not risk the lives of our soldiers for a ball of glass!" She did not give him an opportunity to respond, turning the channel over to a projection of static that would-be or should have been Irveric Tavlar ​

"Tavlar, I am pulling our forces from the surface... I advise you do the same..." there was static and silence in response, "TAVLAR!? Do you copy?" ​

​

​

 

[Spirit of Faith]

ALLIANCE FORWARD COMMAND
LANDING IN NEW ADASTA
ORGANIZE RETREAT

"Admiral, I am ordering a full retreat of all Alliance forces from the surface of Ziost. Get as many of our people into the air as you can. We need to focus all fire on their ships, I will not risk the lives of our soldiers for a ball of glass!" ​

The hologram of the Chancellor disappeared, taking its soft glow with it. Command surrounded the circular table. Their faces were grim, a reflection of the situation at hand. They had been safe from the bombardment, aboard the warship, but the loss of their people weighed heavy on their minds. Everyone seemed exhausted; Meliri felt the same. Weeks in Sith space, little contact with his family, and constant command meetings had run him down. His eyes followed Colonel Terrox as he stepped forward, bringing up a map of the surface. The devastation was evident. The Admiral studied the moving symbols. No one group was where they should have been by this point, which only meant the worst.

“Evac shuttles should land there,” He finally broke the silence, pointing to a small section of the city that hadn’t been reduced to rubble. “And there. Little rubble, avoid the spaceport in case any Sith forces have the same idea. Let’s contact the bridge, have them take us down. We can cover the other forces, our shuttles can move out, as well as the support crafts. All other ships will move to engage the enemy.”

Blank stares met him. He stared back, unyielding. Finally, he arched an eyebrow.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Start relaying messages to the units. All army and marine forces are required to evacuate. Relay the orders to the Jedi teams as well, though there is little we can make them do. Make sure they know if they stick around, they’re finding their own ride home.”

Tension hung heavy in the air as silence fell once more. He glanced at his fellow, Marshal Dovenga. They had served together for years, since the One Sith. Unlike the greener men who surrounded them, the two knew this dance. Understanding filled their gazes. They knew of the pain the Sith caused, knew of their wicked tactics. The two men may have aged, growing wrinkly and grey, but evil never changed.

“Sir,” A woman’s voice squeaked. Meliri’s eyes fell to the woman, Colonel Zeroh. A mousy little thing, but her size did not tame her fire. “Are we really doin’ this? Evacuatin’, I mean?”

Despite the questioning of orders, Meliri’s lips tugged back, his expression overcome with sympathy. He had stood in her shoes once. A cocky young soldier, full of fight and fury. He, too, had once sought to bring down an empire. No price seemed too heavy to pay. Maybe it was the years softening him, but that determination no longer held any sway over him. He was a grandfather, a mechanic, a damn good cook. But no matter what else, he was a soldier first. Duty overshadowed everything else in his life. It was a heavy burden, but one that he carried nonetheless. He was sworn to his country first, and by extension, the chancellor.

“Yes, Colonel Zeroh, we’re really doing this. It is not our place to question that which is ordered of us.” Though his words were blunt, his voice was soft. “We are soldiers; we simply do. Whether we agree with it or not, whether we believe we know better- it doesn’t matter. We’re told to leave, we leave.”

The officers around the table nodded, understanding.

“Let’s get this moving. Contact the fleet and make sure shuttles are descending. Terrox, you reach out to the army, Clark, the marines, and Montall, the Jedi. They abandon all conflict and get to those ships.

Let’s go.”

He saluted, a gesture returned by everyone in the room. When his hand finally fell again, the officers broke into a sprint, running to carry out their tasks. He heard comms start in the background, frantic voices relaying messages. Meliri turned to Dovenga once more, offering his old friend a weak smile.

“You owe me a drink when we get back to Coruscant.”

“Aye, I can do that.” The man returned. “Whiskey on the rocks sounds a dream right about now”

The response came as the ship became turbulent, entering the atmosphere. The muffled sound of lasers rang outside the hull.

“Enemy forces engaging. Defensive maneuvers deployed.” The call rang from the comm system.

Meliri sighed, his smile fading. The danger didn’t impede his earlier acceptance. They would get their forces out, no matter the cost.

“Actually, you know what? When we make it out of here, it’s on me.”

DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tulan Kor | Zaavik Perl | Teica Giraan | Noel Strasza | Leon Gallo | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | Arcturus Tal | DT-0800 | Zark San Tekka | Willan Tal | Djorn Bline | Maynard Treicolt | Kal Ostan | Zirell Marxon | Silas Sunfyre | Sol Stazi | @whoever else there is so many​

<<TRANSMITTED TO ALL ALLIANCE, IMPERIAL, AND JEDI GROUND FORCES:

GALACTIC ALLIANCE EVACUATION OF ZIOST IS ORDERED. FORCES ARE TO DISENGAGE THE ENEMY AND FALL BACK. ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO REPORT TO THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES FOR WITHDRAWAL FROM THE PLANET.

--GALACTIC ALLIANCE DEFENSE FORCE FORWARD COMMAND>>

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Ziost System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA (Siloh Riain Len Vert Leon Gallo Teica Giraan ) │ NIO

The Twi’lek fed.

Unconsciously, but she fed, nonetheless. She, who had been crafted by Dark sciences and immersed in Darkness since her conception, was the Omega to Leon’s Alpha, the Darkness to his Light. And yet, the starpilot of the Light had succumbed to the Darkness, perhaps owing to the mass death and destruction transpiring on the surface. War made animals of men, but it made bloodthirsty, savage monsters of Jedi. In spending their lives immersed in the comforting bondage of the Light, such luminous beings were often unprepared to resist the tempestuous passion of the Dark.

While the Jedi could appropriate such power to his nefarious ends, the Dark was still her domain.

Having already put power into the braking engines in anticipation of an attempt to force an overshoot, 2121 was primed to react when the X-Wing pilot did something similar in bringing his machine to a sudden stop. At the same time, the Twi'lek cut most of her speed. However, in seeing the bandit turn his nose towards her canopy, 2121 acted on reactive instinct. A mental command manifested a single hypervelocity diamond boron missile, dumb fired, yet aimed to potentially strike the incoming X-Wing directly on the nose. Where the enemy would have to aim his craft towards her fighter for a longer period in order to get off multiple shots from his laser and ion cannons, the Twi’lek was able to break off sooner, as she only had one shot to fire. As such, 2121 turned her interceptor’s nose into an ascent as soon as the missile was launched. Even so, ion and laser fire battered down her shields, depleting the capacitors and drawing out various blaring alarms as a laser bolt scored a direct hit on her unshielded craft.

Damage reports streamed into her awareness, flames erupting on a section of the hull as she angled her machine out of the ascent and into a sharp break back in the direction of the X-Wing...

Spoiler: Loadout

• Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Hyper Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
  • Universal Hypervelocity Mass Driver Missile / Warhead Launcher (2)
    • Diamond Boron Missile
    • Brilliant Missile

 

[Suri Vullen]

「 You're gonna wake the beast
Hide your soul out of his reach 」
ECLIPSE TEAM
76TH PATHFINDER REGIMENT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE ARMED FORCES
Sol Stazi | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Maynard Treicolt | Sith Dominance | @the rest of u groundpounders | OPEN TO OPPOSITION

Suri beckoned for her team to fall against the ruined wall. Footsteps grew closer, their crunching against the rubble that littered the ground hard to miss. She attempted to quiet the heavy breaths that followed their hike. The terrain of Ziost hadn't been a kind one to begin with, but with the devastation, it had become treacherous. The pathfinder shut her eyes tightly, clutching the rifle to her chest. Silently, she willed the disturbance away, but to no avail. The heavy footfalls drew heavy closer, another source of danger coming to harm her men.

"Son of a schutta," She hissed to herself.

Her hand went up, signaling them to wait as she took a step forward. Where time had slowed before, now everything happened in an instant. Her gun raised instinctually. There was no hesitancy as she moved from behind the wall. Suri willingly stepped into the line of danger for her men. They were her family, their bonds and understanding rivaling that of her and her sisters. The pathfinders had gone through hell and back together, and her safety meant nothing if it ensured theirs. Brown orbs probed the area, finally settling on the men approaching.

"Identify yourself!"

Their weapons went up as well, before dropping a moment later. One man removed a helm, revealing a familiar face.

"Captain!" The soldier exclaimed, evidently relieved.

Suri let out her own sigh of ease, dropping her barrel.

"Kark, Stansy, you're gonna get yourself killed."

"Sorry to disappoint ya, but you're no worse than what's out there, fury." He mouthed with a cheeky grin, beginning to stride towards her. "I'm just glad the Blue-Hearts intel was good. My damn comms been malfunctioning, maybe this storm? Anyway, wouldn't want to be roaming around all day and night trying to find you all."

Suri sighed exasperatedly, shaking her head as he came closer. Her soldiers came out from behind a ruined wall, some embracing one another who had returned.

"The Blue-Hearts, you say? They don't need help?" The pathfinder arched an eyebrow.

"Nah," He shook his head in response, blonde tresses falling in his face. "They're on some wild goose chase."

The captain nodded, looking to her rangers. The war-torn troop conversed with one another quietly. She heard whispers of "ritual", "undead", and "thirteen". A frown crossed her face at the implications of it all. The Empire was really trying to stick it to them.

"Pathfinders, fall back behind cover." Suri called to the group "You know the drill. Keep your eyes peeled, though."

The soldiers willingly complied for the chance at a moment's respite. Her gaze trailed them until they left her vision, a look of concern on her face. She then looked back to the young man across from her, the worry apparent.

"How bad is it in the city, Lieutenant?"

There was a hint of desperation in her voice as she awaited the answer. The silence seemed to drag on as he looked to the ground. Suri searched his face, looking for any hope to rely on.

"It's bad, Captain. Ain't never seen nothing like it. A few places are still standing, but the majority... buildin's and corpses everywhere. We spotted some kinda monster rampaging but managed to avoid it. Our forces are scattered; there's no tactical positioning left for us to take."

As though his words were an ominous warning, Suri's commlink lit up. She read the message, shaking her head.

"No, no, no," she murmured to herself.

A look of concern from the lieutenant was cast, yet it was lost on her. All attention was on the message that had just come through. Retreat. It was a blessing and curse. Emotions struggled against each other as they came crashing in. Sorrow, rage, disgust, strife. Her head moved back and forth as she stumbled backward, reaching out aimlessly. Her hand happened upon a stray piece of concrete, and she eased herself down. The captain's head fell into her lap as the orders took their toll.

"Captain?"

The sound of Stansy's voice called out from somewhere, but it was too far away. The direness of it all encompassed her entire world. What was she to do? Give up? They had forced them all into this, and now they wanted her to fold? It was too much. The voices of her dead pulled at her the hardest. They were taken far too early, and they deserved to have their deaths mean something. If she backed down, all they would be was another name on a list of the Alliance's mistakes, and the Empire's evil deeds.

"Captain, are you okay?"

The lieutenant grasped her hips, pulling her up from the ground. His care brought her back to reality. Her anger was righteous, but her team's safety was more important. They had put her trust in her, and she wouldn't fail them.

"Yeah, sorry." She offered weakly.

"What the hell was on that message? It's not Ayana Vullen is it?"

She gave no reply, instead moving away from him, towards where the remnants of where her regiment were. They were hunkered down in groups of two or three, faces sullen. The outrage of what had happened seemed to have faded. All that was left was despair and uncertainty.

"Alright," She stated, drawing their attention. "Word's come in from Forward Command. They're evacuating the planet out of the other side of the city. You're gonna have to move quickly. Avoid Sith forces where you can, and if you can't, do whatever you have to, to make sure you don't miss those shuttles. I'm authorizing use of scorched earth tactics as you make your way out. Lieutenant Stansy will lead you to the zone."

Confusion transformed into bewilderment in an instant.

"Excuse me?!" Stansy exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder. "And where will you be?"

Suri's brow furrowed, shrugging away his hand.

"That was an order, Lieutenant." She responded.

He shook his head, a grimace laced with his own anger flashing across his face.

"No, what that was, was bullshit. What the hell are you thinking?! They'll have you court-martialed- and that's if you make it off of this rock alive!"

"I'm thinking," She spat between gritted teeth. "That I can't leave until I tear the Sith down or die trying. I've lost too many good ones today, but I'm not losing the rest of you. You lot need to get mo-"

"Oh, so you get to go play the hero, and we flee like cowards? Those men weren't yours alone, Vullen. We all lost brethren. It's not an excuse to throw your life away."

She shook her head, looking to the rest of the troops. They had risen, stern eyes meeting her own. A twinge of shame ran through her, though it was quickly overcome once more by anger.

"Go." She reiterated. "They won't get away with it, at least not without hurting, but you don't have the time to argue. There isn't any convincing me, anyways. I'm doing this."

A moment of silence met her words. They knew her. Many had served with her since the formation of the unit. They knew of her spirit, her vivaciousness. Strong will versus plain stubbornness had been a hot topic many a day in the mess hall. After a few more seconds, the Lieutenant spoke again.

"Then we're coming with you. Curahee."

"Curahee!" The instant response came from the troops.

Suri gave them each a sour glance, looking for words, but there were none. They knew the risks as well as she did. A lump rose in her throat at the display of undying loyalty.

"Curahee," She returned with an unwilling grin.​

 

[Lark]

​

Objective: Two
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA and allies, Vexander Graves

"Remember brother, the knife enters cleanly from this spot."

The boy knew, of course. He had to know. How else was he to survive, if he didn't even know how to kill? But nevertheless, he enjoyed the lecture his brother gave. His sibling was not the aggressor, for the thug had assaulted them first. But his brother would turn anything into a teaching opportunity. The thief was pinned against a damp tavern wall, blood pooling from a wound on the side of his chest. His brother's jagged, rusty blade struck diagonally through the man's heart, just underneath his ribcage. The boy watched as the man choked on his own blood, and the life left his eyes. One moment they were full of some strange desire to hang onto life, the next they were dim and empty. As though he were but a mannequin, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

But the boy had questions. "He wanted to take from us, and yet we've stolen so much to survive. He's no different than us. So why did he have to die? If someone killed you when you were trying to feed me, I would want to die with you."

His brother hesitated a moment, as the assailant's body slumped towards the ground. "If he had taken from us, perhaps his loved ones would have survived. But one of us would have died. I cannot allow that to happen. I would rather you live than his child. I would drown all of their dreams so mercilessly to see the two of us happy."

"I wish the two futures could coexist. I don't like watching you kill people."

His brother looked at him, with those eyes as dark as the most abyssal void of space. So dark, so empty. And yet full of love. No matter how harsh his brother was, he knew that only love consumed his heart.

"Then let us create a future where that may happen. A realm where those who have been abandoned, those who are lost, may find happiness. Together, we can found a future where the most forlorn souls might mind peace. Where the only things that touch them are full of love and forgiveness. Where they can posses the courage of stars. Where they can experience the tenderness of a familial life."

"That seems impossible," the boy said with a silent sob, short of breath. "Like you're trying to explain infinity. But... I feel as though we could do anything together. I think that maybe we can do this thing you hope for. Whatever lies beyond this swampy locus, I believe we can make a better place. Brother, let's save this world."


You've abandoned us, Lark thought. I tried so hard to save them all. Those who the light deemed unworthy. And yet they burned still. I've reached out to the light as though it were an angel, and my skin was left charred. I was told you would save me. That you might reunite my family. All lies. You never even tried. I AM THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN SAVE MY FAMILY. And I will bring rapture to every single mote of dust to see my dream realized.

And yet Lark spoke with the kindness of a teacher speaking to one of their students. A voice so angelic, so melancholy, it seemed as though nothing was troubling him at all. A voice so genuine one might truly think that Lark believed everything he said. So he met the Jedi's genuine grin with his own soft smile. He would subject the man to the worst torture's the galaxy had ever concocted if that would save his brother. He'd flay the man for eternity if that might make his sister happy. But he would not enjoy it. Lark did not hate the Jedi any more than he hated anyone else in the galaxy. He only loved his siblings.

If there was anyone that threatened his family's peace, they had to be extinguished. Lark would not rest until his vision became reality.

"I once thought I was alone," Lark said in response to the Jedi. "But I'm not. Not anymore. My brother and sister stand beside me. Even though they're far away from this vessel, I still feel their love. They are here, one on each of my sides. Even after all this time, they've never left me. Their passion is what gives me strength." Lark drew his lightsaber, it clicked to life with a scarlet hiss. Reaching out with invisible hands, Lark tore apart some of the tiles that lined the walls of the vessel, and sent them sailing towards the Jedi. Squares of metal ceiling shot towards the Jedi, Lark could not afford any hesitation. An orchestra of madness played in his head, as though the cacophony was accompanying him.

Maybe there was only so much Lark could do.

For his family, he'd do it all.

 

[Shamira Karuto]

E X P L O R E ​

Location: New Adasta, Ziost
Objective: Don’t get caught.
Allies: | Cara Dorniarn |
Enemies: | Rika Hiro |
Equipment: Vine whip (spikes on whip tipped with Iscebore oil), Nesmite Tree Seed Pods (6), Pack of Thralda Leaves, Water of Life Potions (2), knapsack full of other goodies

They were on the move now.

Where? She had not caught that exactly. She had only just emerged from the shuttle a few moments before, quickly moving off to a street near where Cara and the others were gathering. She needed to be close enough to able to follow them, but not close enough at the side patrols would find where she was hiding. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged out by an ear by one of those blasted legionaries into Cara’s…”vision.” Though shamira was quite skeptical that what Cara called vision was actually her seeing. No one’s vision healed that quickly, even with the help of some technology. The only way such things occurred were with pure magik..

And Cara surely wouldn’t dignify Shamira’s lifework with that sort of thing.

She wished that her sister would at least begin to truly study the arts of the magik, and see that they could rival even those of her sciences. Yet they were little more than hocus pocus to the scientist, and in turn, only served to make Sharmia feel as though the things that she did know in this galaxy were somehow….lesser than all the things she still needed to know. Lucky for her that she still believed there was time to change Cara’s views, and maybe even if she proved herself to be useful here Cara would begin to take things much more serious. That’s assuming she didn’t lock her in her room for…forever after this was all said and done.

The group had long moved out by this point, pushing Shamira to play catchup for quite a few minutes before finally the group began to appear as blips on the horizon of the ruined city. She slowed her pace by this point, not wanting to alert them now that she was so close. They had seemingly come to a stop for some reason. Maybe setting up one of those fancy sensor thingies. There was no way of her knowing, not unless she got much closer.

And then…an explosion. One not of fire and pressure, but of light, as if the sun had been bottled up in a small jar. It forced everyone backward, some even stumbling over rocks and such as they did. Cara was slow to get up, and something…someone, was coming out of the darkness. She couldn’t even feel what this thing was. It was just cold, a void in the force. Whatever it’s function was, it was bearing down upon Cara and every inch of her body and mind urged her to surge forward and place herself between them.

But she stopped herself. There was no point in charging forward if only to get in Cara’s way. No doubt the scientist would be shocked to see her here, and if she couldn’t cover her sister in that moment, then she had little doubt that this threat would take advantage of such a thing. No, if she was going to help..it needed to be with a bang.

So she took a few steps back from the rubble across from where the showdown was no doubt about to occur. It pained her to not storm in immediately, but she forced herself to turn her back to what she could only assume would be a conflict. Instead, her focus was forced to be in front of her, as she slowly began to force her breathing to fall into a normalized rhythm. Her hands came together, a praying motion, as the pebbles of rubble around the witch began to shake and rattle slightly, pulled a few feet in front of her, as if a new source of gravity was beginning to appear.

Something was coming, she only needed Cara to hold off for a few minutes to be able to conjure it.

 

[Sol Stazi]

ECLIPSE TEAM
76TH PATHFINDER REGIMENT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE ARMED FORCES
Suri Vullen

​

Wildfire reflected off gleaming crimson eyes. Major Stazi was covered in ash and blood. So far as he could tell most of it wasn't his. Everything seemed muted except for the ringing in his ears. The building they were sweeping through now no longer existed. Strewn piles of rubble marked its passing like some grim headstone. His rifle was gone, lost somewhere in the fallout. Fortunately the SSK-7 heavy blaster on his belt was still there in its holster.

"Just like Dreypa's Peak," he choked out a laugh, "Couldn't kill me then either!"

Vullen happened upon him while he was shaking his fist at clouds.

"We have to get out of here! The mission was a failure!"

"Mission failure is not an option, captain."

"The Blue-Hearts aren't far!" she pressed, "We can regroup with them and figure things out!"

His terrible gaze fixed upon her still shimmering off New Adasta's funeral pyre.

"Take Eclipse and withdraw into the city," the duros ordered, "I'll link up with you at the next rendezvous."

He knew she would protest.

"Trust me, Suri. We stand alone together. See to your troopers."

The Sith Empire's landing field was scarred by the Behemoth but a few undamaged ships were still being hastily prepared for launch. Sol checked the power pack on his heavy blaster to make sure it was fresh. Outnumbered. Outgunned. Exactly the kind of odds a pathfinder was trained for. Compared to the scale of destruction around them it seemed like almost a trivial concern. He drew his vibroknife.

Mission failure was not an option.

 

[Arcturus Tal]

Ships: Two Cuirassier-class cruisers, two Dragoon-class frigates

Part One: A Tal Order​

The engines of the Prodigal Sun continued roaring as the cruiser blasted through the skies above Ziost, with the other cruiser following close behind. They were completely sure what tricks the behemoth had up its sleeve, but it didn't matter. Arcturus was prepared for anything at this point.

How could they not have seen this? If only they had picked up on it sooner, maybe his friends... his family... his people would still be alive...

No... there was no point in thinking about it now. The hulking ship was here now, it was raining hell down onto the planet now, and it wasn't going anywhere unless they forced it to. Arcturus stared at the ship from the bridge of his own, but all he could see was red...

"Sir, we are almost in firing range. What are your orders?"

Arcturus took a moment to study the the vessel before speaking.

"It looks like one of their engines has taken some damage. Lets see if we can even it out for them. Focus all fire on the right engine. I want power diverted from any unessential systems to our shields. I want to make sure we can get a second pass if need be."

As they drew closer to the behemoth, shouts rang out from the crew on the bridge.

"Sir, they're preparing to fire!"

Damn... they're fast.

"All hands brace for impact! Make sure we concentrate as much energy to our shields as possible!"

The Prodigal Sun managed to avoid the first few blasts due to its high speed, and Arcturus found himself feeling relieved for that. They caught the next couple of blasts, sending some of the crew to the floor as the bridge shook violently. Arcturus had found himself forced to one knee from the impact of the blasts. Quintus managed to get him back to his feet as they continued their maneuver toward the behemoth. Arcturus shook Quintus off of him, fueled by a pure hatred for those who had caused the destruction on the planet below.

"Damage report, now."

Quintus took a moment to assess the situation.

"Nothing serious, but our shields took a major hit. Multiple auxiliary power systems are offline as well. I doubt that we can withstand another barrage like that."

Arcturus almost didn't even register his friend's words. All else had faded from his mind except for the task at hand. The Sith would pay for what they had done, and he would do whatever it took to make sure of that.

"Target is in range sir!"

Despite all of the rage, the hatred, the sorrow... despite everything that seemed to be crumbling around them in this fight, Arcturus managed a small smile.

"All gunnery crews, prepare for broadside!"

He could feel the tension in the air as crews called back on comms.

"All guns, target the right side engine. In three... two... one..."

You could hear a pin drop in the bridge as he spoke.

"Fire!"

The cannons from the two cruisers unloaded a tide of plasma toward the engine of the behemoth, causing the sky itself to light up with brilliant neon colors. If the situation had been different, one could almost call it beautiful...

Then everything went dark...

---

Part Two: When The Bow Breaks​

Red lights flashed and alarms blared on the bridge as Arcturus found himself on the floor. Climbing back to his feet, Arcturus managed to shake off the ringing in his ears. Quintus rushed to his side as he found his footing once again.

"Commander, what's our status."

"Sir," Quintus replied, "You're bleeding."

Arcturus wiped his brow to find that blood had been running from it. He promptly disregarded the injury, instead turning his attention back to the commander.

"Commander, I'm not going to ask again."

Quintus let out a sigh. He knew Arcturus wasn't going to address the injury until they had finished the fight.

"We took a direct hit from a large piece of shrapnel from the behemoth. The shields softened the impact, but we have still sustained significant damage to our bow."

"Casualties?"

"Minor, but quite a few were injured. We are moving them to sick bay right now."

It was then that Arcturus noticed... the behemoth was gone.

"Where is the behemoth?"

"It appears they did a micro-jump, likely to lick their wounds and prepare for another attack."

Arcturus slammed his fist onto the control panel. All of his efforts, and they still got away. He wanted to make the Sith pay, and because of that, he got careless. He would not allow that to happen again.

---

Part Three: Payback​

The crew of the Prodigal Sun continued to scramble about the ship, moving the wounded and making what repairs they could. They had to move fast if they were to engage the behemoth again.

"Sir, we are getting a transmission from the surface. It looks like one of ours."

Arcturus felt as if the world had stopped for a moment. Could it be that there were survivors? Could his family have made it out?

"Put them through."

<Pilot Tal... I would require your assistance in strafing and bombing runs.... I'm detecting multiple hostile forces closing in on ours. I need bombing runs close to encamped city streets, and towards the arena. If not obliterate the enemy forces. Slow them down entirely. I will provide further instructions.>

Arcturus felt a sense renewed sense of hope as he heard the transmission. Even though it wasn't the voice of his family, it felt good to hear any friendly voice from the planet's surface. If he made it out, then perhaps others did as well.

"Send a response to the ground, and get our bombers and fighters moving toward the source of the signal."

They opened the channel back up, and Arcturus sent his reply.

<This is Commodore Tal of the Prodigal Sun. We hear your request for payload delivery and aerial support. Sending fighters and bombers to your location, and awaiting further instructions.>

He could finally lend a hand to those on the ground.

"Another transmission incoming."

<GALACTIC ALLIANCE EVACUATION OF ZIOST IS ORDERED. FORCES ARE TO DISENGAGE THE ENEMY AND FALL BACK. ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO REPORT TO THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES FOR WITHDRAWAL FROM THE PLANET.>

Arcturus couldn't believe it. After all of this, they were going to leave? How many people died for this retreat? No... there was too much lost. Too many lives snuffed out. He would see the Sith suffer before leaving, orders be damned.

"Sir? What are your orders?"

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

"We stay until we hear back from our people on the surface. I refuse to leave them behind. Besides, I'm not completely done with the Sith. Not yet. We hold, we take out as many ships as possible, and wait for a response."

He turned back to the viewing port of the bridge, the fires of resolve burning deep within. It was time to make a stand. It was time to make his family proud.

---

Willan Tal Enedina Tal DT-0800 DECEASED Erskine Barran The Amalgam Spirit of Faith Sith Dominance​