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

[Vaylin]

Location: Onboard Alliance One, Ziost Orbit
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA/NIO - Michael Sardun (Engaging)
Gear: Armour | Dual Blades

Moirai remained where she was standing, frowning beneath her mask as her opponent seemed to grow still too. His words meant nothing to her, actions did and he was being relentless with his attacks. Weighed in armour, but agile enough to adequately keep up with her. She’d go in for an attack then evade, only for a follow up attack to be swiftly following in her wake.

The Zabrak didn’t know how old the body was within the armour, but it was being fueled by the Light. As to be expected by a Lord of Light, but there was something oddly familiar about it…

She prepared herself to evade whatever Sardun had planned for an attack. However, the seconds drew on until the armoured form suddenly crumpled to his knees. Moirai frowned, wondering what had happened. The build up of Light had frozen in place, not diminished, but nor was it increasing.

Not one to dismiss an advantage, Moirai went to dash forwards but...couldn’t. Her legs refused to move, as if glued to the floor.

What the hell just happened?

She tried to move again, but nothing, not even a slight budge. A silent swell of frustration began to build up deep within.

Frustration. Desperation. Awakening…

…

Impossible...you shouldn’t be stirring at all!

Moirai could feel her presence trying to creep to the surface. Climbing up the well she had kicked her down ages ago. Locked away as deep as possible...Vaylin.

Drawing on her connection with the Netherworld, Moirai roared through the Force to shatter the paralysis. The soulless sockets of her mask were suddenly ignited in yellowish-white fire. The faux hair on the back of her helmet followed suit. A deathly chill began to fill the room, emanating from the masked Sith. In that moment she realized why Sardun’s Light felt strangely familiar. Not the energy itself, but what it had experienced.

Sardun had traversed through the Netherworld, extensively.

With her foe still incapaciated, Moirai wasn’t going to waste another second. She lunged towards the Lord of Light, holding out her jagged sword as she soared across the room. The blade aimed to pierce through the gaps of Sardun’s visor, towards one of his eyes.

 

[Vexander Graves]

Seto Du Couteau || Brama Tagge || Jax Thio
Engaging: Lark

The Jedi raised his eyebrow as he managed to get a small fraction of how this young darksider was feeling... he could sense his internal turmoil and yet, he could not comprehend what this man was thinking. He seemed erratic and yet, his words carried some deep meaning that couldn't be easily pinpointed by just a few words going back and forth.

Without placing his head too much on what he was feeling through the constant waves of the Force and keeping his head leveled, Vex just moved his eyes to detect the pieces that were sent hurling at him and allowed himself to be carried by the field that connected all living beings... he just moved in unison with the tone that was currently playing and without using his lightsaber or his powers, he just moved graciously with finesse dodging the metal pieces, sometimes taking big steps to the sides... the pieces of metal passed through him and some of them hit the blastdoor right behind, but a couple managed to hit the controls of the doors and it inmediatly caused them to malfunction and slide the doors open relevaing the Situation Room and the battle to everyone inside it.

The bearded man stopped afterwards and just held his lightsaber in front of him with his right hand, holding it in a 75° degree angle in a defensive position. The boy clearly said that he was not alone... but he was right there all by himself against a Jedi Master... with a wicked desire to fight him on the surface... but something told him that there was more than meets the eye.

"Love... what a wonderful feeling. You might not realize it but you are quite fortunate to have them"

Vex didn't know anything about this man, or his family... or what he had been through... he just could feel his turmoil and what he was saying.

"But are you quite sure this is what they want for you? Blood and slaughter?"

The man moved slowly, approaching this "Sith sympathizer", being careful but trying to avoid sudden movements and openly engage this man... being all alone without Sith support and with these weird sensations deep within him... Perhaps he was just being naive, but he knew that based on the circumstances, this man had a choice in front of him and it didn't have to be this set path that he had in his mind... or that he thought he had in his mind.

 

[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.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

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?"

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?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's features soured to his hostile tone, an eye roll following his pointed sass.

"You're welcome."

She didn't know why she had expected a normal conversation from him. They had rarely spent a moment not trying to harm one and other, and the one time he had tried to befriend her she had laid open back.

Good riddance too, she hoped it still hurt him.

She crossed her arms over her front and glowered at him. The tear paths had long since dried up, the pain that had undone her felt like a distant concern. There were more questions that needed answering, like what would happened next, but she wasn't in the mood for more of his sharpness. He reminded her so much of her peers, she wondered what was really different about jedi and sith after all.

The fire between them grew bigger, casting shadows from below as she left him with heavy silence.

Such a douche.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Like a reflection, Zaavik rolled his eyes as well. "Yeah, yeah-" he dismissed sulkily. Elbow on his knee, his chin dropped into palm, fingers clawed over the lower half of his face. The attitude was to be expected, he supposed. Even though she asked. Any scornful remarks were internalized into incorporeal echoes on his tongue, not allowed to articulate aloud

The earpiece suddenly crackled with static before coming to life.




Zaavik shot to his feet halfway through the message. Staring into nothing with an attentive look, it was clear he was listening to something that she couldn't hear. "You've gotta be kidding me-" he uttered to himself aloud, which almost certainly unintentional from the sound of it. He patted around his hips awkwardly as if checking for everything, lightsaber included, and started quickly toward the exit, flight response seizing the wheel.

Steps stifled less than a yard later as he ran up against several realizations like a brick wall. Jumping on an evac vessel would raise suspicions, as they had designated him MIA. A court-martial waiting to happen, possibly worse. He'd have to find his own way out. That and- Zaavik suddenly became hyperaware of his surroundings, along with the burning sensation Aradia's eyes left on the back of his head.

Slowly, his head turned to look at her from over his shoulder. Urgency and apologetic guilt singing tortured volumes from azure spheres. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he couldn't just leave her there in the dark without- offering something. Advice, an update, anything. She'd shown him the way down here, it'd be cruel not to return the favor in some way. Wouldn't it?

An exhale resonated as he turned, facing up to her. "They're calling an evac. Guess we got our answer." Good thing they hadn't made a bet. "-But, you should take this chance to get off-world- uh- somehow. We can't stay in here anymore regardless. This place is gonna be mineral paste in no time. Come on."

If she had objections, he wasn't sticking around to heed them.

Aradia's spine was ridged, hot sparks shooting across her nerve endings as she watched him abruptly leave. The fire was out, replaced by a saber that buzzed warmly in her hand.

She wasn't privy to what had him react in such a panic, but in that short timeframe she had made herself ready. Her eyes widened at his words. Of all the things she could fight back, an orbital bombardment was not one.

She wasn't that good.

Yet.

She kicked up after him without hesitation. Even if she had reason to mistrust him, the constant rattle of the building was enough weight to his words.

"Really? Just like that? You're going to go back with them?" She hissed, chasing at his heels. Red lights whipped across the dark hall, her arms pumping with every quick step. "They caused this. You go back, they're just gonna make you do it again."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

No response came until they'd emerged into what was left of the academy. Somehow it had become dilapidated further, diminished by indiscriminate orbital fire. "No, not 'just like that'," he argued. He spun on his heels just before the exit into the open, hostile air. "After this-" he made a vage gesture pointing between them and widely to their surroundings, "I can't just jump on an evac. Hiding in the dark with you weren't exactly my orders if you hadn't guessed."

Supercondensed tibanna hammering into the ground suddenly reminded him with a thunderous declaration that they didn't have time to stand around. The door fell to the ground with a metallic thud as he pushed on it, kicking up dust on impact. "But yeah, eventually I gotta go back. I don't have anywhere else to go, it's not as simple as leaving," he continued as they moved forward. Explaining himself beyond the minimum wasn't something the clock would allow.

Ziost's landscape was almost unrecognizable from what it had been previously. Not that it was in particularly good shape to begin with. He looked over his shoulder, near strafing to face her without stopping. Movement was life when you could be vaporized at any moment. "What about you? Where's a traitor to go? You even got a way off-world?"

 

[Lark]

​

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

Lark watched as his discs of metal soared towards the Jedi Master, and the man dodged them as though he were avoiding snowballs thrown by one of his students. But though none of his missiles met their mark, more vulnerable targets were exposed once the doors malfunctioned as a result of his attack. They were there, exposed and endangered. Not completely unprotected, but certainly at risk if he were able to quickly defeat the Jedi in front of him. But the longer this encounter lasted, the more time the targets had to reach a safer hall within the vessel. Lark would have to weigh his options quickly. Did he chance rushing past the Jedi in order to obtain a more critical strike upon his targets, risking his own life in the process? Or should he settle on the Jedi, and know that should he end the man's life, that was one less teacher available for the future generations of Jedi?

Teachers were so valuable within the galaxy. There would always be a master to fill whatever void was left within a hierarchy. But not every master was necessarily a good teacher. Without proper guidance, the upcoming students would be as lost as a child wandering the streets without their mother or father.

Yes, perhaps a Jedi Master such as this would be a better quarry. There would always be some angle one could take to eliminate a senator. Whether through assassination, slander, blackmail, politicians were a notoriously amoral group of people. It mattered not what allegiance they pledged themselves towards. But a Jedi Master, that's someone who has truly devoted themselves towards a way of living. A misguided one, perhaps. But nevertheless, they believed in it. Lark could at least appreciate that. But unfortunately for those true teachers, this only made them more delicious targets. Their deaths might cripple belief within their students. And that vulnerability could be exploited.

Despite his intentions, Lark met the man's friendly words with an amiable response. "You may not believe another word I say, and I'll forgive you for that. Most of the songs I have spun have been lies. But I know that I am lucky to have my sibling's love. Nothing really matters when the world I love has been taken from me. But I've sensed the desperation my family has felt. So yes, I know that my brother will forgive any bloodshed so long as it saves the three of us. That is what my goal is. To reunite us all. On that front, we are united." The abandonment had steeled him. So long he had been alone. It was far time for him to regain what was rightfully his. The family he had never had. All three of them agreed.

"I apologize if the answer I've given to you isn't the one you hoped for," he said truthfully. "But the light has abandoned us. Never gave us a chance, really. So I've seized the opportunities that were granted to me. And with those blessings, I will save my family."

He unsheathed his lightsaber, and raised it in a defensive position mimicking the one the Jedi produced. His attention had been turned away from the politicians. Teachers could be so brave, so meaningful in the development of younglings. They truly did play a role in how an apprentice might develop. Good masters could make or break a padawan.

Lark would break them all. It was all he had ever known. And he would bring that grief to all those he could.

 

[The Amalgam]

Well...this had certainly gone pear shaped...

They had actually built DT-0800 decent. Most people try some clever tactic that backfires

With a SithSpawn like The Amalgam, it was often best to resort to just pure, brute Force.

The mangled, bleeding SithSpawn, sustained only by the Hatred and Death that literally saturated the air in ways the advanced HRD currently gripping her by the spine after blasting large parts of her head off couldn't detect, even as he held her, her head and brains started to regrow, allowing her to think more clearly as fighters sped in to bomb the area.

Her fury lashed out to the sky, and heavy lightning bolts erupted from it, smashing into and destroying a good number of the fighters and their payload, damaging others and forcing them to come back for another pass, buying The Amalgam precious few seconds.

The HRD had made a mistake gripping its spine.

The Amalgam called down lightning on herself, and as it flowed through her, coursing through her flesh and burning off parts, kept conscious by pure bloodthirst, it surely flowed down to the Droid...

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XI
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor Noel Strasza
Fisk Kamer DT-0800 A.I.M
Djorn Bline Rika Hiro
Jorus Fel Julian Qar Arcturus Tal
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Maynard Treicolt
Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka
Kinoan Asmundr Varobalder Aelys Allyson Locke

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf Sith Dominance
The Amalgam Laertia Io Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore | Mylesy's Trusty Fairbairn Vibroknife

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Wrath of the Stormchaser X (Bleeding in the Mist)

'Good thing I don't have a soul to break, old man.', the Advanced Nuetralizer shot back with a belittling, mocking smile. A little part of her own psyche was shining through, though the Brigadier-General knew what that meant; the nanite-droid assassin was seemingly done playing around, though most certainly in the mood to move on from testing the waters in her first proper hostile engagement against Lord Erskine. 'And thank you for the demonstration! It was quite the learning experience. Now...lets see...', the playfully girlish killing-machine drawled again, trailing off to consider her next step. But so was Erskine, knowing that he'd be taking damage from a droid from that point onwards.

Rising from her place in the broken rock gravel, the Nanite-maintained skull would gradually reclaim all it's lost liquid matter as the Advanced Model stood with a lazy, freeform stance, taking last-second mental notes of Erskine's Meyer-style technique before replicating it to a near-identical answer to the form the Blue-Heart was retaining in that moment. Barran almost felt flattered by her seemingly almost-Woadish will to prove her true worth, for wishing to beat a warrior at his own game is the ultimate method of psychological warfare, one that the Lord-Commander understood in his love for beating other mechanised units into scrap with nothing but the power of smoothbore-tank aggression. Both warriors engaged again, though Erskine would find himself in quite the spot of bother when a quick combination of level-change slashes in differing postures were parried with machine-like precision, forcing Erskine to burst forth and think as the Advanced Nuetralizer's agility went into overdrive.

Never did get this one as perfect as the others, even after looking through both the original manual's sketched depiction,-

-and the alternate-view textbook version. The lattermost helped, but this one never did click with me like the others did.

Vaulting over his head to attempt landing behind him, the supernatural elements of this droid's technological upgrades were beyond hellish for most, and in this moment, the Lord-Commander began to realize he would have to bleed to see a true perfected mastery over the one Meyer-style technique he couldn't master. Erskine was all too willing to accept this, knowing how he'd grow as a swordsman in the event it worked out for the better, though repressing the fact he would be putting his life at it's singlemost greatest risk of brutal death in order to do so. The Advanced Model would continue to vault around, bobbing and weaving with ease as the evasions continually threw the Nuetralizer out of harm's way; to avoid even half of these combinations would be considered feats of super-human ability by most, but to avoid every last one of them wasn't expected to such an extreme.

Just - die, freak....

As she flashed another playful, head-tilted smile, Erskine could feel entirely new layers of fury that he never thought were possible to accumulate behind his eyes. This Nanite-infested abomination was all too sure of herself, even with the fact he'd lasted longer than many before him, was beginning to set his left lower-eyelid twitching in the makings of a proverbially nuclear blackout-rage. Barran knew the Advanced Model would attempt to tip him over the edge in the following moments, but he didn't care, as the Laird of the Heartlands, Clan Chieftain of House Barran, was quite content to let the Nuetralizer try against her own better judgement. Then after a moment of staring death into each other's eyes, the base-form of the feminine Advanced Model decided it would be a good idea to use his son's voice one more time, though everyone would agree it to be a bad idea but the duelling combatants.

'You failed your son like you failed your soldiers here, you useless old man. You may have defeated my brothers...', the Advanced Model grumbled in a perfect replication of Tom's diluted Heartlands accent, doing the trick to get Erskine in a slash-happy mood in that moment as their blades met in another spark-filled song of ringing steel. Whether he believed her to have,"Brothers", or not didn't matter to the Brigadier-General in that moment, it wouldn't click until days after he'd snapped out of his psychosis. All that Barran cared about was slashing, hacking and stabbing, and lashing out like a feral dog, cutting a deep gash into the Nuetralizer's face with Leftenant Myles' Fairbairn before she was granted a chance to continue with,'...but I am not my brothers. Does it bother you, old fool, that you are the only one of your worthless, simpering foot-soldiers that can stand against them at all? They deal with your troopers as though they are nothing but chum to throw to sharks!'

Die.... Die.... Die.... Die.... Die.... Die.... Die....

He was practically howling in the deepest layer of his psychotic blackout, with eyeballs rolling back in the ecstasy of the sensation it gave him as the adrenaline coursed through his veins, throbbing uncontrollable malice into his heart with the same violence of a speeder-bike crash as he delivered three more slashes to the Advanced Model's face for even daring to complement him in battle. The third and last slash of the combination was purposefully evade to feed into that fury, and it worked; Erskine had bared teeth once more, but no smile of any sort could be found in it any more, just a lust for bloody, gruesome violence. For her galling, brazen need to mock and demean her adversary, Erskine would throw a nasty left hook; and yet, standing there to take his knife-dropped punch, the Nuetralizer somehow turned her own head into a likeness of mercury upon impact, from the bottom of the neck to the very top of her head.

DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE - DIE

'Cur.', the feminine droid snarled in an astonishingly animalistic response to the Lord-Commander's would-be knockout blow, following up with one of her own. connecting with the very-back corner of his jaw in a way that would get a smile from the likes of Berach Ulrand, but in the exact same way (had she been of flesh and blood) Erskine's would've connected with her own, sending him back reeling in a way that wasn't too dissimilar to the way the Nuetralizer had reeled back from his opening pommel-strike. Having whipped her hook as Barran did, the Nuetralizer did everything correct in avoiding the reliance of pushing one's self behind it, and sent his top and bottom back-teeth on the right side careening into the burning embers of a Sith-trooper's helmet.

KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!!

The froth was gathering at the corners of his lips as the Lord-Commander sprinted at his adversary, screaming with every primal rage his sentience would allow of him as he cut seven of the most aggressive cuts he'd inflicted on the Nuetralizer before. Each and every one would hit their mark across the Advanced Model's torso, gut and chest to see if any vital tech-circuitry resided beneath, and fortunately for Erskine in returning his eyes to the land of the living, trying to properly look with skittish impatience enough that he just ended up trying to puncture through the sternum cavity to put her down. Letting what looked like a fake, mercury-like human aorta slide into what had once been a drain nearby, Barran was shown how difficult his fight would be if he was to survive another minute of it; but this only served to deepen the Brigadier-General's mind into the maddening chasm of his own hatred, exactly what they both wanted in that moment.

'THOMAS!!!! FATHER!!!! I SWEAR TO YOU BOTH, RIGHT HERE AND NOW - THIS DEMON WILL BE DEAD BEFORE THE SUN RISES!!!!!'

The fastest of his rushes so far, though it was more akin to that of a leap than a rush when Lord Erskine sent his sword through the chest of the Advanced Nuetralizer much too easily, but the torso began to grip on the Virbosword's blade at the half-way point; then she turned into the Faux-Thomas once more, making a look of horror that can only be seen as ridicule towards human mortality itself, followed by laughter that would've horrified her intended victim had he been fully in control of his own mind. The Advanced Model was laughing with Tom's voice, but in her same sickeningly robotic-feminine tone, and once again, the old man howled in his world's greatest example of primordial rage yet, and once again, Barran's eyeballs rolled back to give way for the insatiable hunger for the target standing right in front of him.

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

Gone, absolutely gone to the dying world around him, even to the NIO fleeter-debris that crashed and exploded on the ground around the suburban districts, even as her Faux-Thomas form was grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off his feet with the strength of a giant, and even as the Nuetralizer had cracked two of his ribs - Erskine was gone to it all, and showed no signs of recovering from his psychotic meltdown. All hope for the Woad-Macushla was dying in the New Adastan hellscape, and there was nothing the Lord-Commander or anyone else could do to change his rapid decline to Hell itself, until the unexpected was thrown into the underside the Brigadier-General's chin, thrown unexpectedly by one who wished he'd be weak enough for the uppercut to (finally) shut his brain down instead. But some endings were never meant to be, some endings remain unwritten until the very last moment, yet most of fate's predictions of one's end go unwritten, with pages left bare as a reminder of times when people cheat death in the most obscure of eventualities.

I am already much too far gone for this! What - where is this from? An' why do I know it so well?

'You think to defeat The Amalgam, whose life is the Black Knight's alone to take, yet you are completely worthless against just one droid you can't even truly injure! You're useless, you old fool...', the Advanced model baulked, sneering with clear, palpable loathing at the man she'd thrown at a nearby wall; she would watch with peak disdain in her eyes as he fell into a slump at it's base with an audible grunt of impact pain, followed by groaning with clear agony over the injuries inflicted on his face, his ribs and his head alike. But the unexpected was beginning to take form, and like there was nothing that Barran could do about the death of his firstborn, there was nothing the Advanced Nuetralizer could do about the obvious shift in the fight's dynamic.

Oh, but of course.... The Flower of War, Fiore di Battaglia! Nobody could defeat me with the Fiore at Sandhurst, nobody!

In the ultimate insult of his own, Barran stood up when all other hope of his survival had evaporated, and though it was slow and groaned in pain, it was enough to bring a scowl his son had never once expressed in his days. Hearing her comments on the Amalgam, Erskine was beginning to hear something else in her voice, and for once, the resentment he felt with his Faux-Son's voice when the droid mentioned the Amalgam, even if only for a brief moment, wasn't actually aimed in his direction. Something was going on there, and the axe that the Advanced Nuetralizer had to grind with the Brigadier-General was much more than the usual operational detachment her,"Brothers" were known for; this was personal, and on a level that neared the depth of the personal loathing Erskine felt towards those who killed his longest-serving adjutant and his son in the run up to that moment.

Pacing with swagger towards his basket-hilted claymore, Lord Erskine then knelt to pick it up without even worrying about early reactions from the Advanced Model, then stood and pointed the blade in her general direction as his smirk returned: albeit swollen to the extent it obscured the right side of it, but there was absolutely no doubt in the Advanced Nuetralizer's mind that he we smirking like his slip into insanity hadn't happened at all. His mind seemed the same as it was before he landed on Ziost, but it wasn't the same as before, and Erskine wasn't the same as before; a massive turning-point, Barran's true watershed moment as a hero had been reached, signifying his increased chances of going the distance, or until the planet had blown up beneath their feet.

'Bring it, old man, BRING IT! SHOW ME HOW SKILLED YOUR WORTHLESS DEAD SOLDIERS SHOULD HAVE BEEN AGAINST MY BROTHERS!'

Become the sword, embody the sword like the knights of old!

'Heh.... You won't get training like this in the ranks, Glaikit.'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - A Stormchaser's Sword (Prelude)

Maintaining his son's faux-form, it was obvious to Erskine that the Advanced Nuetralizer upgrade was still taking it personally enough to go for the psychological angle as a basis for her tactical approach. Not that such an approach was sitting particularly well with the Lord-Commander, but he'd returned to milder expressions of loathing and was level-headed enough to survive the next phase of his fight for survival. Lord Erskine would stand strong through a drawn out swordfight that saw his sword-arm, his shoulder and then his left cheek was slashed by a knife made purely out of the Advanced Model's index finger, giving the Brigadier-General another idea as his nose was being broken by a stiff-armed right overhand, followed by another heavy throw into the side of a crumbling house's garden wall that did nothing at all to dissuade him.

'Anything else you got, you useless old fool, or are you willing to admit the Nuetralizers superiority before you die in the mud?'

Barran's reply started as nought but wheezing fits of disdainful mirth, though the endearing quality to it was nowhere to be heard or detected in the laughter whatsoever. In moments, all the hyena-esque laughter quickly subsided, making way for Erskine's real reply as he exclaimed,'I - ow! I actually do, an' it's a question I have for you! But first - god, those ribs don't like me laughin' the-day.... Oooooo.... But first - I want to have some fun, firstly by putting my sword away an' fighting barehanded against yer wee index-stabby hingy-majig!', whilst injecting himself with the only stim of his two-remaining that survived being tossed against the wall (twice) with him. Seeing the moment to strike as soon as the Lord-Commander sheathed his sword, the Nuetralizer ran at him with the index-finger dagger at the ready, but expecting him to play the evasive role had worked against her when Erskine stepped his pivot foot to one side and rotated to turn his back to the confused approaching Nuetralizer.

This, also, is the Fiore-Style.... Oh, how she's going to hate this one!

Grabbing the Advanced Model's blade arm with his left hand, Barran let her momentum (and Erskine's guiding off-hand) carry her right arm towards his own; transferring his grips, Lord Erskine would snatch the Nuetralizer's index-finger hand with his right, then grip the Advanced Model's throat with his left, snapping the droid's legs out with a well-timed dropkick to both knees as a smart-thinking alternative to the predictable trip-up he had been mere milliseconds away from utilising instead. In using the leverage to slam his foe to the deck, Barran would snatch at the face that would try to liquify all too late, slamming the Advanced Droid's head onto a jutting, jagged chunk of fleeter-debris before opining,'You know, this might just be the best fight I've been a part of, no joke. Satisfaction of seeing each other suffer, check, little verbal slips of the tongue that tell a larger story, check; blood, check, and plenty of it too. This scrap has it all, but what I really want is to ask you a question.... Who is the Amalgam - to you? Your turn to talk now - er... What the kark is your name, by the way?'
​

​

 

[Siloh Riain]

「 Started down this one way track
There's no turning back 」

PHANTOM SQUADRON
PHANTOM TWO
EQUIPMENT: X-wing
Len Vert | OPEN TO OPPOSITION

Chaos had come, but there was a serenity to be found in it. The various beeps of alarms, the sound of missiles flying by, the thrill of danger as a couple of ties hung on her trail. Siloh let out a long breath, full of the stress that had been building over months. In the pilot's seat, the only place where her fate was truly in her own hands, she found reprieve. Her droid chirped, attempting to convey the seriousness. Fighters were gaining, but she shrugged his words away.

"It's alright, forty-three. I'm not gonna let them get us," She stated with a chuckle. "You know I ain't breakin' my promise today."

Her nose jerked hard to the right, where two ships had been duking it out. The space between them was alive with fire, but Siloh leaned in nonetheless. A shrill scream was heard from her droid as she narrowly avoided missiles and lasers. Her eyes flickered down to the sensors, where one dot disappeared.

"There we go!"

And then, a scream. Pain. Hopelessness. Weeks of anguish, only for the tide to finally take him. The red-head screamed with him. She attempted to keep her focus, her x-wing weaving clumsily, all grace lost. It's a blessing and a curse. Her pops had the same innate ability for empathy, and had told her that every time she cried for another. Tears began to streak her face as she lost herself in it. The Jedi's emotion was strong, but she needed to allow herself to feel it for his sake.

The same ocean water filled her lungs as she dove beneath the waters where he called from. An ivory hand reached out, a small guiding light emitting from it. A hundred realms away, her x-wings speed increased, making towards the Jedi.

"Take my hand, Leon. It's not over. Not for you, not for any of us. Hope lives on."

 

[The Amalgam]

"Heh." The Advanced Model grunted, extremely irritated this human wouldn't die as she violently tore away from his grasp, getting some distance. "Injuries" clearly obvious.

Annoyed, she reverted back to her girlish base form of a young and pretty woman in black biker leathers with silver spikes, except there was a large gap in the middle of her head. His question at last registered.

"The Amalgam and her Witches are but useful tools..." The Nuetralizer said in answer to his question. "That's all she has ever been, in spite of her power. And as to your other question...I haven't picked one before this moment. This is my second Battle. My first was aboard The Prosperity to kill personnel and sabotage equipment. I am the reason the Prosperity was delayed from reaching Bastion."

The hole in her head still had yet to seal up from where she had been bluntly impaled by Force...it seemed pure kinetic force did more to cause lasting damage that healed slower, though some of the vibro cuts to her chest had yet to close completely.

She pondered his question more thoroughly, buying time to let her wounds close, trying to analyze why this human was not yet dead.

"If I must have a name, call me...Effigy. For the face you see is one all my Sisters bare. The face of one murdered by The Amalgam." She answered, arms forming into swords. She wasn't sure why she was answering him. She surmised it was a desire to see how best to truly break him but she wasn't certain.

"I am an Advanced Model 1, The first general production Nanite Assassin Droid, First Generation. My Brothers are shock troops. I am an assassin and sabotuer. Bred for war, for conflict. Your soldiers had to have the Murder trained into you. But Murder is part of a Nuetralizer from the moment they are first activated. We walk the path of Death and Hell, from the moment the first spark of thought erupts in our minds to the last second before shut down, we are ALWAYS ready to wage war, Lord Commander, and we are here to wage it on Ziost to the bitter end, your hands around our throats as much as ours will be around yours, shedding us of weakness..."

More of the cuts had healed now.

"Now answer me something, DECEASED Erskine Barran ...why, why, why, do you persist?"

 

[Kinoan]

Objective: Duel with some peeps
Allies: Fisk Kamer
Enemies: Laertia Io | Maple Harte
Items: Lightsaber, Lightsaber

———
​

Kino watched as Fisk's blade swung towards the Jedi killer.

Yellow and white flashes of light began appearing off of the two blades. Slowly the green coloring of the killer's blade started to fade as the other sabers overpowered the single blade. Though Fisk had a hurt shoulder, the two of them could defeat her. Just a little bit more...

Suddenly, the sky fell dark. Everything around them turned black from the shadow above. Even the lightsabers only gave off a small bit of light. No longer did the fight seem to matter. All three of their heads shot towards the sky, trying to figure out what was going on.

Both men fell forward, their sabers deactivating. The Jedi killer teleported away, off to only force knows where.

"Dammit man! We almost had her!"

Placing his scale hands on the ground, Fisk pushed himself upwards. Standing up he began to brush himself off. It was only a quick second before he remembered the ominous blackout that was occurring.

Grabbing his lightsaber he flicked it back on, illuminating the area. Kino soon followed, his yellow blade lighting up the area. Looking around he saw no other person in view. Plus, the entire attlefield got eerily quiet. It started to creep him out.

"If only we had gotten her. So many people would have been avenged. How did she just...hey, look!"

Using his free hand, the Jedi pointed outwards into the sky. A small, bright light could be seen high up in the air. Someone far off must have shot a flare put. The odd thing was though, for the distance they were at, this flare was shot pretty high up into the sky. Plus, it probably should have exploded by now.

But no, the light kept falling, and falling, and falling, until there was no light anymore. Then suddenly, it all came back out once.

"Kino that wasn't a flare, that was a turbolasers beam. We are in the middle of an air strike!"

What came next was something unlike the Mon Calamari has ever seen before. The massive shadow in the sky began to light up, clearly revealing a large ship. Thousands of weapons on that ship started to rain fire down onto the surface. A once dark sky now began one giant array of lights.

Frantically looking around he found no cover near them, or anything far from them for that matter. The hellfire seemed to be coming from all directions, with no where to escape to. Looking over he saw Kino just as scared, trying to find some,thing, anything to help them.

Looking towards the sky he saw it.

A giant mass of energy was hurtling right towards the duo. Kino hadn't seemed to noticed yet, but the Mon Calamari just stared on at it. There would be no way both of them survived.

The world around him turned to slow motion. He looked over and saw the Jedi barely moving at all, slowed down in time. Extending out both of his hands, he gave all of his energy into one force push. The push would strike Kino, shoving him far away from this strike. Once that was done, Fisk simply turned and faced the ball of energy hurtling towards him.

Closing his eyes, he embraced it.

"Noooo!"

After landing with a hard thud, Kino was somewhat shaken. But he was still in enough consciousness to see what happened. The beam of energy engulfed the Mon Calamari, reducing him to nothing but ashes. Somehow thinking he could save him, the Jedi ran over as fast as he could.

But he was only created with pain.

The crater where Fisk once stood left nothing but ashes floating in the air. Smoke slowly started to disperse out, clearing the area. That is when the Jedi noticed something laying in the hole. Going down to it, he was shocked with what he found.

Sitting their was Fisk's lightsaber. Not a single dent or scratch on it. Might have even looked better than before. Tears began to form underneath his eyes. Though he wanted to mourn, it wasn't the time for that. Pressing his finger down on the ignition button, he watched as the white blade sprang out of the hilt. Somehow the saber perfectly fitted his hands, like it was meant to be.

Now it was time to put it to good use.

"Jedi killer, I am coming for you."

Tracking down her signature through the force, Kino was finally able to see where the girl was. Plus, the falling building gave it away as well.

Concentrating his force energy into his legs, the Jedi Knight took off with incredible speed. He raced across the now crater-covered landscape. The casualties from this war must all be remembered. It had to be done.

Still racing ahead, he was finally able to see the girl ahead. Around her was buildings falling down onto troops, both Alliance and Imperial. He knew he had to stop her. Igniting his lightsaber, he stuck both blades behind him as he ran. The white and yellow created streaks of color in his path. Good, the Jedi killer people know he was coming.

Now he was within striking range. Jumping off of one foot, he pulled out both blades from behind his back. So far the girl hadn't noticed him. Forming the sabers into an 'X', he prepared to slash them downward and through the Jedi killer's body.

This would pay for everything that has ever been done by this murderer.All the pain and suffering people have gone through. Buildings wouldn't be the only thing that she would be having fall today. Oh no, not even close.

Her body parts would soon be joining the fun.

 

[Laertia Io]

Laertia screamed as she teleported another mass of destroyed vehicles above the city. The Witch helping enhance and boost her teleporting ability, The Battalion, hissed in delight at Laertia's intense pain, even as she reveled in the Black Knight's strength and power, The Battalion's flesh shuddering and bubbling on the skeleton as she channeled the ritual.

The Battalion sensed Kinoan coming in like a mynock out of hell, and sent a mental warning to the warrior she was starting to get a bad crush on.

The Battalion rolled out of the way at the same time Laertia was forced to cease the ritual, teleporting away from the downward slices. The Battalion backed off, guarding with her blade while Laertia reappeared behind Kino, also guarding, sleeveless white enchanted robes billowing as she angled the inverted green blade at him.

"Shall I smash this roach, Gorgeous?" The Battalion asked.

"His death will be quicker at my hands. No." Laertia said to her. "Go. You have done enough."

"Call me! I'm free on weekends when I'm not torturing and killing the weak! At least one of the minds in me makes great Pasta!" The Battalion called out, winking before using The Dark Side to cloak and retreat.

Laertia, missing her cybernetic arm, gave a Makashi salute with the other.

"You would think with as many losses as you've sustained, you'd have the good sense to get the hell out of here. Its a waste of good warriors you know. You should all have died for something that at least made sense, like fighting The Bryn'adul..." Laertia said grimly. "How much more are you willing to commit to this Vanity War against The Sith Empire, while the Bryn'adul destroy every society they come into contact with? I don't like fighting or killing any of you, but how else am I supposed to get you all to come to your senses and recommit your resources elsewhere? The whole 'Reasoning' thing wasn't working and The Barash Vow is for Cowards! What the feth else was I supposed to do, Jedi? Stand back and let you waste your military strength without complaint? With a smile, even? Help you fight pointless battle after pointless battle?" Laertia asked calmly and pointedly, not exhibiting the aura of a Dark Adept, but twisting The Light Side within her in a way that would no doubt feel wrong to the Jedi in how she channeled it.

"I can see it in your aura, y'know. The disgust. You think I'm nothing but some mad traitor without honor. Where's the honor in letting The Bryn'adul grow stronger just so you all can play at being heroes, pretending you aren't shooting yourselves in the foot, when your faction have proven in this campaign you're as willing to do bloody, vicious things as I am to get your way? Who the feth are you to judge me after what Jend-Ro Quill and Erric Jacen Nimdok revealed? At least I only killed people actively trying to kill me. At least I've only killed people who were CAPABLE of killing me. People who would have felt nothing but the same smug satisfaction you would have felt had that pathetic ambush of yours actually succeeded."

 

[First Sister]

Location: Temple Engineering Core, Prosperity
Allies: TSE ( Vaylin )
Enemies: GA ( Kaska Arden Dagon Kaze Michael Sardun ) │ NIO

A fresh, rejuvenating flow of Force energy restored her stamina in the wake of such an exhaustive application of telekinesis in defending herself against the Dark Jedi’s attempt to Crush her. For the Sister, such manifestations were inefficient, brute force applications of telekinesis which could only be countered by the same. In doing so, the Sister had exhausted much of her strength before restoring it via her potion, but she sensed that the Jedi had likely done the same in unleashing it.

The utility of her helmet was missed in the wake of the Dark Jedi’s Blinding manifestation. However, now armed with the knowledge that the Jedi intended to work together in waging their offensive against her, the Sister grunted, feeding into the pain of her mangled left arm. Extending her senses, the Sister fell into the electrical current, harnessing that in lieu of Sight in order to process her surroundings. From there, the bioelectrical signatures of the two Jedi, roughly eight meters from her position, were quickly recognized and given approximate form to compensate for her temporary blindness.

In processing a room full of electrical activity, the Sister honed in on a source that she did not expect. The female Jedi’s lightsaber, brimming with electrical charge, perhaps owing to some quirk of its construction. Upon sensing it, the Sister did not hesitate in seizing that electrical energy, focusing and projecting it back to the blade’s wielder in the form of a galvanic fulmination, aimed to strike the Jedi in her face with the current from her own weapon.

Spoiler: Loadout

• First Sister’s Sith Uniform
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Energy Shield(s)
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Alchemical Talisman(s)
    • Jin'Wodasir - Pins of Protection
    • Talisman of Concentration
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Vertigon Gas
  • Utility Belt
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • Empyrean Infusion
• Miniaturized Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber
• Whimsy Knife
• DL-13 Holdout Blaster

 

[Noel Strasza]

A L O N E
W A R M A C H I N E
2ND DOOM DIVISION | THE WATCHMEN | 2/8
T A S K F O R C E I M P E R A T O R
ENGAGEMENT | OPEN
Light called. Iron paid.

A loud, staggered growl of relief clawed its way from between her oddly paired lips as the familiar figure slithered from beneath the wastes. Tavlar. He was bloody. Wounded, mentally, physically. The distant howl of grief manifested in his eyes as he looked onto what was left of his men. Silently, the cyborg acknowledged this, understanding they were all kindred in the filth left behind. The crackling call for retreat rattled against the inside of her skull, far louder and distorted than the other communications- suffering her the pain of a sharp, abrupt sound that jerked her hand upward to smash against the implant at the base of her jaw. "F*ck you-" she hissed at the voice. It was really easy to make that call from a command room. GA leadership had been absent from this slaughterhouse, despite their plans to benefit from its meat. Disgust bubbled up in the bleeding internals of her belly.​

She watched as The Imperator shared her sentiment and he thrust the holocom down, responding to the Chancellor directly. This gesture spoke more than his words ever had to. As he made his address, Major busied herself rummaging through her burned pouches, searching for whatever medical supplies she could actually find to tend to those stormtroopers who were still able to press on. It wasn't much, but she handed out the patches and little vials of bactaspray, assisting those who could not reach their wounds themselves. ​

Tavlar's eyes cast in her direction earned a twist of her head, though she did little more than nod in acknowledgment to those words he spat at the Chancellor. He looked beyond, to his men. ​

<"We will the finish the fight...now come with me and take this city.">

The rallying decree was more than enough to reignite the wildfires blazing within the troopers' beings. There would be no retreat for them. No rest. These things would come disguised later and earned in raining hells of blaster and bullet rain. "We need to move quickly, the storm is coming. I suspect the Legionnaires will be poised to choke us at the perimeter on this side, it would be best to wrap around and flank from the west." Major stated hastily, turning her flickering eyes towards the darkness starting to creep over them once more. Already, flurries of teasing lighting had begun to crash into the earth. ​

"INCOMING!"​

Deader's head twisted about as she searched for the source, eyes snapping to the sky- half expecting to see a maelstrom of strobing death opening to swallow them. Instead... the shadow of a literal building. A whole building was sailing towards them. She didn't give herself time to process the absolute absurdity of this. Instead, the cyborg dashed backward and tucked herself against the hulking ruins of a cataphract- putting a decent barrier between her damaged frame and the inevitable crash. ​

"I'm getting really tired of this bullshit..." She bemoaned just barely above a whisper, waiting out the crashing debris and dust. The second both impacts had broken the ground she rounded the corner and dashed out in the haze, laying down covering fire for the remnants of the 501st to start pushing around the newly placed obstacles. Luckily for them, it seems the reckless and blind throw of such mass crushed a whole plethora of Sith Legionnaires who had been moving into the city to seek shelter from the storm. This created a massive opening for the 501st to cleave through the 67th's ranks from behind.​

Had she a poet's mind, she could have appreciated the irony.​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | SJC | DECEASED Erskine Barran Irveric Tavlar Djorn Bline Captain Raith Maynard Treicolt Tulan Kor Jorus Fel
FOES | TSE | S-IMPS AND OTHER UNSAVORY FOLKS

 

[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.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

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?"

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?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's features soured to his hostile tone, an eye roll following his pointed sass.

"You're welcome."

She didn't know why she had expected a normal conversation from him. They had rarely spent a moment not trying to harm one and other, and the one time he had tried to befriend her she had laid open back.

Good riddance too, she hoped it still hurt him.

She crossed her arms over her front and glowered at him. The tear paths had long since dried up, the pain that had undone her felt like a distant concern. There were more questions that needed answering, like what would happened next, but she wasn't in the mood for more of his sharpness. He reminded her so much of her peers, she wondered what was really different about jedi and sith after all.

The fire between them grew bigger, casting shadows from below as she left him with heavy silence.

Such a douche.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Like a reflection, Zaavik rolled his eyes as well. "Yeah, yeah-" he dismissed sulkily. Elbow on his knee, his chin dropped into palm, fingers clawed over the lower half of his face. The attitude was to be expected, he supposed. Even though she asked. Any scornful remarks were internalized into incorporeal echoes on his tongue, not allowed to articulate aloud

The earpiece suddenly crackled with static before coming to life.




Zaavik shot to his feet halfway through the message. Staring into nothing with an attentive look, it was clear he was listening to something that she couldn't hear. "You've gotta be kidding me-" he uttered to himself aloud, which almost certainly unintentional from the sound of it. He patted around his hips awkwardly as if checking for everything, lightsaber included, and started quickly toward the exit, flight response seizing the wheel.

Steps stifled less than a yard later as he ran up against several realizations like a brick wall. Jumping on an evac vessel would raise suspicions, as they had designated him MIA. A court-martial waiting to happen, possibly worse. He'd have to find his own way out. That and- Zaavik suddenly became hyperaware of his surroundings, along with the burning sensation Aradia's eyes left on the back of his head.

Slowly, his head turned to look at her from over his shoulder. Urgency and apologetic guilt singing tortured volumes from azure spheres. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he couldn't just leave her there in the dark without- offering something. Advice, an update, anything. She'd shown him the way down here, it'd be cruel not to return the favor in some way. Wouldn't it?

An exhale resonated as he turned, facing up to her. "They're calling an evac. Guess we got our answer." Good thing they hadn't made a bet. "-But, you should take this chance to get off-world- uh- somehow. We can't stay in here anymore regardless. This place is gonna be mineral paste in no time. Come on."

If she had objections, he wasn't sticking around to heed them.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia's spine was ridged, hot sparks shooting across her nerve endings as she watched him abruptly leave. The fire was out, replaced by a saber that buzzed warmly in her hand.

She wasn't privy to what had him react in such a panic, but in that short timeframe she had made herself ready. Her eyes widened at his words. Of all the things she could fight back, an orbital bombardment was not one.

She wasn't that good.

Yet.

She kicked up after him without hesitation. Even if she had reason to mistrust him, the constant rattle of the building was enough weight to his words.

"Really? Just like that? You're going to go back with them?" She hissed, chasing at his heels. Red lights whipped across the dark hall, her arms pumping with every quick step. "They caused this. You go back, they're just gonna make you do it again."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

No response came until they'd emerged into what was left of the academy. Somehow it had become dilapidated further, diminished by indiscriminate orbital fire. "No, not 'just like that'," he argued. He spun on his heels just before the exit into the open, hostile air. "After this-" he made a vage gesture pointing between them and widely to their surroundings, "I can't just jump on an evac. Hiding in the dark with you weren't exactly my orders if you hadn't guessed."

Supercondensed tibanna hammering into the ground suddenly reminded him with a thunderous declaration that they didn't have time to stand around. The door fell to the ground with a metallic thud as he pushed on it, kicking up dust on impact. "But yeah, eventually I gotta go back. I don't have anywhere else to go, it's not as simple as leaving," he continued as they moved forward. Explaining himself beyond the minimum wasn't something the clock would allow.

Ziost's landscape was almost unrecognizable from what it had been previously. Not that it was in particularly good shape to begin with. He looked over his shoulder, near strafing to face her without stopping. Movement was life when you could be vaporized at any moment. "What about you? Where's a traitor to go? You even got a way off-world?"

Aradia pulled a face, stopping short before the hidden port of her ship. Rubble did a good job of masking the sleek metal. A mindless nudge of the force opened it.

"Well they don't know!" Great. Maybe she shouldn't have told a jedi she was a traitor. Even if he had proven more friend than foe, there were some secrets that were more dangerous than they were worth. It had just been a weight on her chest, one that she now questioned as she stared at the jedi who tossed it so easily about. Her gut churned.

Today's vulnerability would cost her. If not now, then soon. She could feel it.

"We could just not go back," she uttered, her voice tight. "Like they'll notice. They're too busy blowing up each each other, they ignore the real enemy." Was that acknowledgement for their past? Or a prediction for the future?

Perhaps it was both, but he would know the enemy she spoke of. There was only one thing they agreed upon in this whole galaxy. A ship fell from above, the roar deafening. She ducked on instinct, covering her head. At that same moment, the force screamed.

Death was on the horizon.

The ground shook, the air turning hot. "Come with me!" She screamed over the noise. A scarred hand extended his way.

 

[Kaska Arden]

B E F O R EㅤF I R EㅤA N DㅤS T O N E
T E M P L EㅤE N G I N E E R I N GㅤC O R E
P R O S P E R I T Y

Lightsaber | Belmont's Resolve | JSTP Armour
Uproar Blaster | Pamarthen Honor Blade

A L L I E SㅤG Aㅤ/ㅤN I O
Dagon Kaze | Michael Sardun

E N E M I E SㅤT S E
First Sister

Kaska didn’t respond.

She didn’t even spare him a second glance, not while the bitter stink of his flirtation with the Dark Side still hung heavily in the air. She simply couldn’t trust him in that moment, nor could she trust herself not to act on the heavy impulse that Sardun’s wavering presence had stirred within her. Instead she dove head first into the presumed opening his attack provided, blade held low in the opening cadence of her preferred Form VI.

A move that perhaps saved her from the worst of the Sith’s counter.

She had cleared half the distance before her lightsaber seemed to shift within the very Force itself. The weapon flaring with a viridescent light as the crystal was subjected to the corrupting presence of the Sith. Sparks snapped and static popped along the length of the blade in response. The saber sputtering as the cohesion was warped by unseen hands, casting energy across her dominant gloved left hand as it unraveled, further scorching and blackening the skin beneath until she was forced to completely terminate the weapon with an angry snap-hiss.

Far from slow or stall her advance, the pain merely drove her forward at an even more reckless pace. Tuned and bonded to her on a deeply personal and spiritual level, the Sith’s attempt to use it against her was nothing short of a violation. Sardun’s power might have placed her back on her feet, but it was her own righteous indignation that now lent itself behind her attack.

First Dagon, now her own saber.

Make no mistake, there was a reckoning to be had.

Her telekinesis surged within her body, strengthening her muscles and reinforcing her body beyond the natural limitations and those posed upon it by the earlier discharges. The durasteel cladding on the floor fracturing as she planted her foot, right hand swinging up to strike with her honor blade in an attempt to carve a vicious, bloody line across the assassin’s midsection.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"We could just not go back. Like they'll notice. They're too busy blowing up each other, they ignore the real enemy."​

"And then go where? It's not that s-" A pang of danger. The thunder of a descending ship filled the air. It stabbed downward, intent to smite any who lingered beneath. He ducked, putting an outstretched hand over his head, shielding it with a force-manifested barrier. Rubble, dust, and shrapnel danced maliciously through the air in a vortex of carnage.

Every muscle in his face contorted, squint and grimace as the grime burned into his eyes. A vague feeling of resistance seized his hand as piece after piece of shrapnel stopped against his barrier. Another slammed hard against the barrier, toppling him over and forcing the required focus to break. Hand flat against the floor he forced himself up to a knee, still diminished and turtled inward in an effort of self-protection.

"Come with me!"​

Eyes watering from dust, he pointed his chin up toward the hand. He hesitated, rightfully so. Did he really have time for reservations? The force discerned no malice in her intentions. Ge couldn't help but second guess it. Another explosion in the air killed his hesitation. Begrudgingly, he took her hand, not having the time to reel from the union.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
Armor [ 104th Skin ] | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

AIN'T NO GRAVE​

He rose from the pile. There was nothing that could describe it in a more dignifying fashion. He'd began to let that insidious doubt creep into the recesses of this mind again. Every time he led them into the fray, he found himself surrounded by the death of his own again. Perhaps if he was untouched by the luminous spaces between that was the Force, it'd all bare a lesser effect unto him. But in his innate sensitivity and attachment to those who joined him in battle, there was a far deep seated pain that came with each wound, every death.

The barrier he erected did well enough to pull many of them from the brink but even still, the Wolves were bloodied on the field.

The first thing he heard erupt from the comms system in his helmet was the call.

<<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>>

His stomach turned at the message. The call to retreat. Evacuate. In the fields of suffering that surrounded him, it was difficult to tangle that decision. A decision out of his hands. He was ever the defiant and unbreakable soul. Wanting to fight to the bitter end and then some. But that defiance also drove him to the breaking point, every time. It might've been easier to pull back and run with the others. He looked into the frigid visors clutching the gaze of the wolf in each as they peered toward him for the guiding hand.

He patched through to Captain Raith , makin an immediate, impulsive decision of the fate of the Wolfpack in New Adasta.

<"Not sure where the 7th is headed, Dune but...the Wolfpack isn't leaving New Adasta. We have a fight to finish."> Maynard says, closing the comms before he peers around to the rest with him.

<"Get a head count, ammo, find out what we have left. We stick to the plan.">

<"Sir-">

<"They can court martial me when the time comes, Sergeant. I'm not too worried."> He'd been expecting a laundry list of consequences for just about all of his gunslinging behavior as General, now wasn't the time to get worried about that. Then came the storm. Blackened clouds, rain, thunder. He'd felt that same aura of foreboding that came on Felucia. Raaf.

A bolt of ebon lightning struck the earth...the point of impact of which a Galactic Marine fell. A monolith, a beast of Sithspawned fury rose to take its place. Maynard, bloodied, battered and worn from the fury of the Behemoth sparked his saber to life, springing forward to skewer it right in two. He immediately pieced the source of this malfeasance. As he chased her shadow, Raaf followed them both in her looming darkness.

<"Regroup. On me, Nexu is closing in our spot. We'll hold out until we can consolidate and then we're on the move again. Need to form up all thats left to hold this damned city. Time to hunt."> Maynard said, repeating the mantra.



ALLIES | GA | NIO | Zirell Marxon | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal
ENEMIES | TSE | Valen | Irina Volkov | Shursia | OPEN FOR SCRAP

 

[Kainan]

Y O U N G _ C O N Q U E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LEGATE ACTUAL
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
Armour | Lightsaber
Arctus Silmar , Rurik Fel

The way in which he manipulated the Force bore fruit. Incorrectly placed was the faith in droids, by the Sith, Kainan surmised. Where it was certain that the simple minds of droids could be programmed to perform as combat automatons, cheap - for an Empire as large as the Sith's - their usefulness was rendered null in the face of trained Force users. With a plethora of abilities at their disposal to render them inert, Kainan had settled for the ones which would turn them against the one they followed.

Through the air, down the hallway, Kainan watched as the bolts rained upon the Sith Lord's body before he handled them with the Force. Lurching forwards down the corridor, his argent blade burning bright at his side in the face of such a great malevolent aura. Rurik Fel sent a blast that sent the Sith hurtling backwards, and in response, a storm of the Dark Side's most infamous ability to counter.

Lightning. Kainan saw, though the set features of determination were too ingrained in his young features to become the grimace they would've otherwise transformed in to. His lightsabre was drawn back, and in its place, Kainan's right hand raised again, this time a Force shield raised in place of the simplistic application of telekinesis.

The lightning struck the shield, not enough to protect the rest of the hallway, but enough to weave around himself. As Fel was already on the move to engage the Sith Lord in the melee. And this time, Kainan would not let himself be left behind.

There were few things Kainan excelled in with the Force. Strength and speed enhancement, typically Control aspects of the Force, and telekinesis. The latter, he didn't often show off, though he was glad to turn the enemies creations against them.

The obsidian cloak snapped in the space behind him. The minute movements of both the Lord Executor and The Shaper's actions, anticipation of where their next moves would take them. Kainan saw the opening already, and as the Sith's blade, Urfael, maneuvered to the side to defend from the strike delivered by Rurik, Kainan's speed propelled him to the other side.

The resplendent beam of silver plasma slashed across that opening in the Sith Lord's guard, from the centre of his lower abdomen, and up along his torso to his armpit.

Allies | NIO | NJO | Nearby | Rurik Fel | Aerarii Tithe | Areyon | Jak Ross | Shoma Ike
Enemies | TSE | Arctus Silmar

 

[Marcis Sorr]

Objective: Find and eliminate high-value targets. Deal with whatever this is.
Equipment: Sorr's Shatterbracers | Close-Fitting Combat Suit
Writing With: Viers Connory

Bad at sneaking around? Oh, that was just rude, if she hadn't been the wrong person the odds were good she'd have taken a slug to the head within a second or two. Nevermind the fact that VIPs tended to have bodyguards. His plan was a bit optimistic, that's all.

"You realize the high ground just makes it easier to strike at your legs," Marcis asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the Jedi standing atop the rotating bed, blade and cuffs in hand.

He was being conversational, too conversational. If he was her, he would strike suddenly.

Interpreting her stumbling kick-like motion as the attack he had been expecting, rightly or (more likely) wrongly, he lurched forward to meet her, attempting to push them both onto the inexplicably vibrating bed. What was with this suite?

No matter, if he could disarm her, he was confident he could subdue her quickly enough.

That would just leave the task of finding and eliminating his actual target. Damn it.

Kyra Perl - it may be a bit garish but it's still pretty; is this the worst you've got?​

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

Location: New Adasta, behind enemy lines
Objective: Retrieve Alliance + Civilian Survivors for exfiltration, medivac for the city.
Allies: GA and friends
Opposition: Sith Empire
With: Allyson Locke
Engaging: Irina Volkov

Jyoti braced herself for screaming Sith Knight and his mace, already poised for a counterattack. As soon as he landed on the tank with her, the Niman master would strike with a pincer move and--

Crack

While the Sith was still sailing through the air, he suddently jerked backwards as if clothelined. A huge hole erupted from his neck in a bloody mist, red matter splattering over the tank hull and her armor. The corpse crashed to the ground, helmeted head still just barely attached by a few sinews of muscle.

Allyson.

In that moment, she had felt Corellian’s attention squared solely on herself and the attacking Sith. Allyson had said something just moments prior, thanking her for coming.

In spite of all the carnage unfolding around them, Allyson still managed to bring a smile to her face.

“I should be thanking you, though I had him.” she chuckled as she dismounted the drifting tank.

She gave Allyson a chance to respond, but nothing came.

Her smiled quickly died as she then felt the Corellian quavering in the Force. After being mangled by an interdimensional demon, and sustaining weeks of bitter street fighting immediately following, Allyson had finally succumbed to her exhaustion. She was knocked out and fading, broken body long stretched well beyond its limits.

God dammit Ally, don’t you fething die on me!

She didn’t speak Starlight, but practically blasted the thought directly at her friend like a telepathic shotgun to jolt her back to consciousness.

Don’t give up on me!

That idiot wasn't allowed to die on her today. They had come too far just to fumble it all away now. Nobody in that building was getting left behind.

“Noble leader!” she barked. “Have you secured the location?!”

“Almost ma’am,” the Valkyri Captain reported in heavily accented Basic. “We’ve routed the Sith trying to break into the lower levels, and we’re covering the survivors as while they move to the roof for extraction.”

She relaxed a little at the sound of the good news. At least the rescue operation was still progressing with success. Off in the distance, the Gnat Runners had finally caught up to Noble Company, the droid tanks keeping incoming Sith armor pinned for the moment. However, it was only a matter of time before even the battle hardened Valkyri and Jedi Shadows would eventually become overwhelmed. Sith reinforcements continued to be dumped into the city by the second, more converging on the block.

If they didn’t hurry, then the Silvers would be stuck in the same predicament as the Alliance survivors.

“Good, but tell them to move it. Those shuttles are on a timetable, and we’ll only get one shot at this. I’m coming to you.”

She was about to kick off from ground to take flight, but was stopped in her tracks as she felt a menacing force press against her very being. Something dark and powerful had just trained their sights on her.

That something which emerged on the street was a single woman, taunting the Echani while brandishing a crimson lightsaber.

It was a good thing that she had her helmet on, so that the Sith couldn’t see Jyoti’s face now painted in confusion. She felt strongly connected to this woman, intimately bonded like to her former apprentice Allyson, or to her husband and children. Yet there was no warmth and love there, only cold rage.

The sensation was deeply unsettling. The Sith cast a strong distinctive aura, but she couldn’t recall where they could have encountered each other before. The Echani shifted into defensive posture, Sitara now directed at the Sith’s chest. However, she remained slack in her stance, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Who are you, and why do you seem so...familiar?”