Invasion How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex

[Darth Apophion]

Objective: King of the Hill

Enemies: Thurion Heavenshield

​

The blade found its mark, right in the shoulder. The Jedi mocked him, claiming he had missed. Apophion's saber came free with a hiss, and for a moment, the Sith took a measured half-step back, settling once more into a grounded stance.

"How can I miss?" he said coldly, "when you are wounded in places no blade can reach? Instead of killing you, perhaps I will let you live. Leaving with nothing but the thoughts of being alive, alone, and still searching for someone to blame for surviving."

Then came the Lion.

He charged like an avalanche of gold, steel, and flesh, the weight of his fury made manifest. But Apophion did not yield. He stood firm, unshaken. As the Sunlight Blade swept in a wide, gleaming arc, he bent low at the knees and ducked beneath the stroke, letting it sail past him with inches to spare. Rising swiftly, Apophion met the next strike with his saber raised high. The two weapons clashed, vermilion lightsaber meeting sword, and the impact sent a chorus of sparks into the air. The shriek of colliding energy echoed like a cathedral bell, fractured and ringing across the battlefield.

"You call that the beginning?" Apophion taunted, his voice sharp as a curse.

In his left hand, an unlit emitter snapped forward. With a flick of the wrist, it came to life, a red whip of pure energy, bright and serpentine. His left arm lashed upward in one smooth motion, and the crackling strand coiled through the air, snapping into Thurion's exposed right shoulder. The whip poised to tangle up in his armor joints, something that could not be easily tugged free before searing some flesh.

There was no mercy in Apophion's eyes. Only the rhythm of war, and the litany of pain yet to be spoken.

 

[Corin Kaze]

Valery Noble

On top of the Jedi temple, the view was that of a world on fire.

Starships burned the skies with streaks of colour and poisoned the atmosphere with debris. Bodies littered the streets, on the Jedi Temple steps and it was clear that the Imperials had breached. It would not take them too much time to achieve their objectives, if things continued as is. It was a wound in the Force, all this destruction and loss of life on top of a nexus. But, despite it all, Corin was selfish in this moment. His attachment to the Jedi Order waned, with Iris being his tether. He did not care so much as to what befell the Jedi Temple so much as to whether Iris was safe. To hear she was somewhere else, somewhere far from here, settled a relief in him.

His features did not show it.

The wind blew, whipped, and tussled his poncho-cloak and the hair that fell over his brow. He braced against it for all of a moment, deciding his next action. He took steps forwards, coming closer to Master Noble and began to kneel beside her.

"I've come to offer my parting thanks," his voice was dull and flat, placing knuckles over his thighs as his marred eyes closed. The Force swelled around him, feeding into the battle meditation. He did not craft his own, that was a useless act, but rather sought to pour his reserves into the ongoing battle meditation in order to strengthen it, to bolster it and push back against the tide of darkness.

"I have not always been a good Jedi, but, allow me to do this. For the sake of all those memories."

 

[Vaegon Dolmyrian]

Objective: King of the Hill
Coruscant
Vera Noble | Rannan Kol

​

Vaegon did not press the attack.

The silver-blue blade in his hand cooled to a low hum as Kol fell back, melting into the smoke-hung chamber with unnatural grace. Shadows licked at his heels as the firelight cast his features into myth. The Dark Sider had been swift, yes, but not invincible. Vaegon's thrust had found its mark, even if the wound did not bleed. A dark scorch marred the Apostle's robes, blackened threads whispering as lightsaber-resistant material he was unfamiliar with.

Vaegon remained still, his stance unshaken, the weight of his presence growing like an encroaching tide.

Kol's voice drifted back across the divide, theatrical, practiced, desperate to mask the truth with ceremony. The sabers ignited in his hands were impressive only to those who mistook violence for power. Vaegon knew his kind and how they manipulated others. His gaze flicked to Vera. Her expression had changed. The subtle twitch at the corner of her eye. The glance that lingered on him too long. The hesitation before recognition. Kol had done something to her, some kind of mental attack, but Vaegon could not place what it was or how to dispel it.

"Cowardice," Vaegon said coldly, speaking not to Kol, but for Vera. "You poison her mind instead of facing your judgment."

His blade lifted once more, steady, unwavering. There was one link with the padawan, the telekinetic connection to Vera, which he was strong enough for Vaegon to maintain all this time. What has he done to you?

He stepped back with eerie grace, blade held at an angle that bisected the space between them, eyes cold. Then the Jedi's boot moved again, this time with precision. No wasted steps, no show of force, a fluid attack with his single blade of his saber cutting forward in a tight, coiling arc, not for the chest, but for the wrist of Kol's dominant hand.

 

[Meliant]

New Jedi Temple - Coruscant​

Objective: Kill Drystan Creed!

​

"Wasn't expecting to meet a fan in a place like this."

​

Meliant strained, digging deeper into Drystan's guard. His response was to hurl a string of epithets in a hissing, alien dialect of Ancient Sith, which alleged Drystan's parentage to descend from various unflattering specimens of extragalactic fauna.​

​

It was completely unintelligible, but the words only needed to be heard to have power: each syllable was wreathed in the Dark Side. It was a curse to unmoor warriors from their center, cloud their minds with rage... Unbalance them. A favorite tool of certain black-hearted Gûdjoti.​

​

The upward slash suddenly broke the saber lock, breaking Meliant's guard and scoring a direct hit across his helmet. It also launched him, but anyone schooled in Ataru always lands on their feet. Meliant converted it elegantly into a backflip and landed crouched a couple of meters away.​

​

A wicked gouge had been opened vertically along the left-hand side of his helmet. It should have been lethal... But no one was home. Whatever was in there was something not quite alive and not quite dead, existing in-between as a coiling, undulating mass of black smog. Little more than a brooding storm cloud piloting hollow armor.​

​

There were no more words left to share Meliant only wanted to kill this man now. He shot forward quickly, closed the gap again, and unleashed a deluge of strikes: slashing and stabbing, low and high and middle. Relentless but noncommittal. Meliant wouldn't be taking off Drystan's head or even a limb. Shallow cuts to cripple the quarry - and then consume it.​

Zaavik Perl Tayiji Drystan Creed Allyson Locke​

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES

​

| Location | Otherspace, The Veiled Realm​

| Purpose | Bring Ruination and War​

​

In the veiled realm that existed beyond what was known a presence stirred, a slumbering beast roused from its dormant hibernation. In the abyss where no light could reach a forgotten wrath awoke. Even through an insurmountable distance between real and otherspace, the taste of blood and conflict reached its desecrated lips, whetting the Lord of War's insatiable appetite. The wails of widows, the cries of children, the misery of man, all reached him and called forth the beast that long slumbered. With the rise of Darth Solipsis , the drums of war rang and so to did the Lord of War heed its never-ending call once more. ​

​

The Lord of War rose from his shattered throne, rested upon grand steps of obsidian and iron the utterance of a single command rasped from their lips, a voice that boomed and echoed across a vast emptiness of darkness, a horrendous cacophony of many voices melded into one. ​

​

" All hands unto war."​

​

From the vast shadows rose his legion, The Thirteenth Umbral Legion bound in service to their one lord, called upon to serve their master once again. Their armor, shattered and welded from countless battles of survival waged in otherspace against otherworldly horrors - a testament to their skill and prowess and unyielding dedication to their commander. The finest blades a Sith could ask for. ​

​

They heeded his call, served his will, and would die in his name. This is what they were chosen for, this was their one true purpose, to stoke the flames of war and with it, their unwavering service.​

​

The legions of troops rose in unison, as if all of one mind and body, an unnerving atmosphere as the Sith Lord raised his arm up, a saber in hand as a flash of violet light screeched to life, and made a single downward stroke. Without further words spoken, the umbral legion marched forward towards the base of the steps that Bellum stood atop, large shadowy portals opening as the risen army marched into them, finding themselves deployed all across the surface of Courscant as they rendered aid unto the Galactic Empire's forces present. It was not a matter of strategy, but chaos and destruction being delivered unto all those who resisted the Emperor's will.​

​

For the Sith'ari's generous offering, the avatar of war would render his services unto the new Empire, and with it boons upon those who raised their banner in the name of war and chaos. Those who invoked war invoked him, and with it renewed vigor and wrath to lay upon their enemies. ​

​

To those that defied his will and song, know despair and lament the futility of your struggles.

The reckoning had come, and with it ruination.​

​

As his legions deployed, the Lord of War turned as he himself entered his own shadowy portal. With his arrival to the battlefield, his focus would be drawn towards the flow of the Force, focused around the Nexus that the Dark Side Elite sought to corrupt. Such a tantalizing prize could not go untouched, his arrival heralded by a spine-chilling aura and dread.​

​

Voldran Molf | Khronas | @Anyone else attempting to corrupt/contest the Force Nexus

 

[Zantra]

Post #4
| Location | Galactic City Spaceport
| Objective | #1
| Allies | GE/DSE
| Tags | Tansu Treicolt & Talsin Lota

Somewhere behind her, alarms wailed across the spaceport -- the invasion bleeding into every terminal. Inside Bay 12, the robotic voice over the intercom became more and more human, what was once a facet of the alarm system echoing through each bay, had started to become intercut with the voices of Darth Solipsis and Shannic Wulf ; the Empire's broadcast had started to leak through. Then the messaging became the background of their duel, working in tandem with the distant explosions, and ringing horns. The invasion had sunken its claws into all layers of Coruscant.

Zantra skidded into a tight pivot, just as the yellow blade came flashing wide; teeth clenched. The girl was fast, reckless but bold. The blade she had initially meant for Talsin snapped back to her other side mid-motion -- she didn't have half the second to recall her other one. It floated across her body just in time to catch Tansu's lassoing slash and the collision rang out. A glint of metal under synthskin as her own saber misses her back by centimeters.

Crack!

Strobing red alarms created a stark palette that made these saber swings pulse with intensity.

She ground her heels into the deck, absorbing the shock, letting the impact settle. It would seem that the gambit had failed, Talsin missing his follow up. She glanced back at him, he look like he'd been overcome with a shadow. Her eyes flared as she grinned sharply, turning back and looking over Tansu.

"You're out of sync." Zantra smirked, teeth bared like a predator.

Then with her mind, she telekinetically shoved the saber outward, cracking their bind with a burst of kinetic energy through the Force. And the other red saber she'd thrown arced back to her with a magnetic hiss, and on its path back into her orbit, she had micro adjusted its trajectory to carve a fan of red light that went slicing through a fuel line -- a leak ignites, sending wild fire trials through the bay.

Zantra used this opening to press the offense. A sound. Like pressure releasing. A subtle magnetic twitch at her spine.

The synthskin at Zantra's upper back split open with a hiss of magnetized air. Two ferro-cables unfurled from recessed ports, parting clean along bio-mechanical seams, glinting black like fluid steel. They flexed once, twice -- then snapped into motion.

Click-hiss!

Tansu's too close.
Talsin's too slow.

One cable lunged forward with whipcrack speed, seeking to snagg Tansu's ankle. The other coiled forward, aiming a vicious whip-lash toward Tansu's saber grip. The cables seeking to anchor Tansu threatened to slam her sideways into a bulkhead.

Her footwork didn't change. Still flowing, circular. Minimal steps, maximum arc. She slipped between her cable strikes, filling the void they created with raw offense. Behind her, her first red saber, like missiles led a feint across Talsin's midsection, while the second blade spun overhead and came down diagonally toward his left shoulder like a predator checking the perimeter of a cage; it was fast and violent.


----

Spoiler: Storyline Themes

Synopsis: War erupts across Coruscant, and a secret assassin closes in — but some destinies are always just out of reach.
Backdrop: A 'How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex' Story

• Identity being erased or rewritten under pressure
• Being "seen" or "acknowledged" in a world of deniable assets
• Duality of pursuit: emotional distance vs physical chase
• Ghosts of past orders (Jedi, nobility) vs instruments of a new regime

 

[Talon Draven]

Objective: Corrupt the Nexus
Location: Jedi temple, Coruscant
Tags: Voldran Molf | Kaleb Sunwalker | Orran

Talon gave a single nod of his head to Voldran Molf in regards to his thanks.

"Of course. I am here to serve the Empire and insure in a swift victory." His voice was even, calm even through the chaos surrounding them. Little did anything raise the man's emotions. It kept him grounded, kept him calm.

Forward they moved and Talon followed swiftly. He asked no questions. He knew his objective. He was here to help and insure that victory with little to no resistance, one could have hoped. He didn't mind a good fight, although he did not like to feed the egos of Jedi and their theatrical ways. Cocky, over-confident in their abilities, reckless and wild and suffocating. They did nothing but suffocate those around them who did not follow their ways. A disgusted sneer ran across Talon's face underneath his mask, but as soon as it came did it vanish.

Like thieves in the night stealing younglings, the group made their way through the ventilation system. Carefully but quickly did they evade others around them as well as traps situated along their path. Talon kept his breathing calm and regulated, but he could start to sense the small twinge of urgency and excitement coming from their guide.

That was until the trap was sprung and then that's when the Jedi and soldiers appeared. Brows furrowed, Talon shook his head. A guilt trip, now Jedi were lowering their bars. As he was taking a deep breath, Kaleb let out a yell having the man's eye flick dangerously quick to him.

Talon stared at the group in front of him in judgmental silence, but he said nothing. When did anything ever go according to plan?

As he was about to say something, Prowler disappeared and Voldran's voice rang out. Of course, this was going quite swimmingly if Talon had any say. Watching the silver haired male stab his blade into the wall and the circuitry erupt in a flurry, Talon crept a little closer when the lights had plunged them into darkness and was nearly on top of Voldran when the crimson hue came back bathing them in it's brilliance.

Listening to Voldran's order, Talon dropped down after him as Kaleb was flailing his lightsaber around. The second wave of battle meditation from Prowler got rid of that panging headache from the Light. Waving his hand to Kaleb, he nodded his head.

"As Voldran stated, it is an attempt to get inside your head. Cleanse yourself of this filth and move," he said calmly to the flailing man. Hoping that would put his mind at ease, even for a moment for him to pull himself out of his illusions.

Following the man and allowing Kaleb to regain himself, Talon's robes flowed like ink behind him as he entered into the opened room. It was so much stronger in here than anywhere else within the temple. He gave a nod to Voldran as the man took a position.

Walking to his own position, Talon dropped to his knees and placed his lightsaber in front of him. Bowing his head in a gesture to his Master and quietly muttering for strength, Talon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Like Voldran, he too reached out into the Force. Grabbing onto the Nexus and attuning himself, Talon followed Voldran in his chant.

They would take this for the Empire no matter the cost.

 

[Artam Macek]

THE STARS WILL BECOME YOUR TOMBS​

Objective: 3, Cinders
Location: Coruscant High Orbit
Tags: Open




Thousands.

Thousands of signatures.

His radar and his IFF scanner went entirely haywire- a sea of indicators, so close together that it was impossible to differentiate based on scanners. But Artam simply had to look to see what the Alliance had done:

Thrust not their soldiers, but their citizens, unto the war. Even the Empire was not so callous to the sanctity of the lives of its citizens. They kept the war fighting to the warfighters- the ones that served or were called to serve the Empire. They were, to Artam's knowledge, not privy to enlisting the civilian populace against a well-trained force.

He breathed heavy, watching the slaughter begin. They were not soldiers. They were shopkeepers, bookkeepers, engineers, traders. They were not pilots, sailors, or warriors in the slightest. And yet, in the Alliance's desperation- they had doomed them. He watched as the point-defense lasers tore into the civilian armada. Deaths in the dozens by the first engagement. Turbo-laser batteries shot across the black void, explosions and silent deaths of many innocent lives thrust cruelly into the maelstrom of war. The meat had met the grinder.

Thoughts, traitorous in some degree, crept into his mind. Doubts. But then, resolve. He was an Imperial pilot. He was a member of Shadow Squadron. He banked his TIE fighter, and a more accurate thought crept into his mind, something perhaps against his will:

" All hands unto war."
​

His TIE opened up. Shrieking death, hate and discontent. But not a shred of mercy. Not for them. They were coming to kill him. It was a simple, ruthless calculus that he was going to participate in. They wanted something, his life. So he'd take theirs. All of them.

 

[Sid Berik]

​

Coruscant – Upper Levels
Drop Pod Deployment – Comm Silence Active
Death Trooper Squad "Vanta Six"
Operatives: , DT-1966 , DT-7747 , DT-1966 l Abraxas Colt l Veno

Reacting to: Ashin Cardé Varanin l Valery Noble

For a moment, the visions stayed, cruel machinations of higher beings, demigods walking amongst men. Then, he closed his eyes. He counted. He opened his eyes. They were gone. The Jedi could plague his mind no longer. He was a free man. He was strong. He was Elite. He was angry. He would have his revenge.

It was over.


​

Their objective secured, Sergeant Berik began to lay out orders for demolition- priming chargers on key infrastructure on the power plant. They needn't destroy it, just destroy it's capacity to regulate power effectively. They were cruelly effective, silent as death itself when they worked. There wasn't a great need for communication, every man in the team knew his position, knew his assignment. They were cohesive, they were lethal, they were focused and determined.

Truly, the Empire's best.

Sergeant Berik turned his head. Radio chatter from one of the nearby dead Alliance troopers. He plucked the communicator from his vest, leaning over it.

"Platoon siz- " Frequent static interruptions.

"Heading to you-"

"Hold out until we get ther-"

"We will not leave you behin-"

He stood over the dead Trooper, holding the communicator in his hands. He signaled his team, but walked over and grabbed Veno by the chest plate.

"Finish the mission. We'll hold them off."

A tall order from Sid to a relative stranger. But he gave him a nod of respect- he was here after all, just like them. But he wasn't like them. No, his troopers knew the mortality projection for the mission at hand. He'd at least give the operative a chance to escape after finishing the mission. He didn't need to say it. But the Alliance was coming, and they'd come back in force. He switched channels in his helmet, walking back to the forefront of the power station-

Essentially, a long corridor on a platform. They might have been trapped, but they were also in a good defensive position. Platforms above them were worrisome, but the main approach was roughly three hundred feet of uninterrupted kill zone. He turned to the other Troopers, directing them with his HUD for optimal defensive positions. They were not equipped for this. They were not going to hold out forever against a numerically superior force.

But they were trained for this. They were force multipliers. They were Commandos, elite. They were the Empire's Best. They were Deathtroopers.

They would hold the line.

"ⱧØⱠĐ ₮Ⱨł₴ ₱Ø₴ł₮łØ₦. ₮ⱧɆ ₳ⱠⱠł₳₦₵Ɇ ł₴ ₵Ø₥ł₦₲. ₱ⱤɆ₱₳ⱤɆ ₣ØⱤ ₵Ø₥฿₳₮."​

He said in their encrypted speech, turning his head. Already, speeders carrying troops were approaching on platforms far and above. The Alliance was coming with revenge on their mind. He would give them the fight they were looking for.

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Friend: Ibaris Varanin Darth Solipsis Remus Adair
Foe: Nathan Bloodscrawl

HOW LIBERTY DIES - PART SIX

​

ABOARD THE IV: SEPULCHRE,
CORUSCANT, GALACTIC DEEP CORE (902 ABY)

I like these feints, there's artistry in this stuff.
Though I dare say its more than Soresu can provide him here.
​

The Battle-Meditation was beginning to seep into the Bloodhound's mind by then, and certainly more than the veinal rushes of Midichlorian power-amplification, especially with the pain, anguish and deathly peace seemingly emanating like waves of comm-link current flow, made all the more aggravating with all the voices swarming in accompaniment to the passing of souls. There was much to contend with, and to balance the surging rage with survival in single combat at the same time, Barran would soon begin to feel that encumbering pressure; yet that same, humbling weight had an outlet, and in that need for focus, the Khan's opponent was all the distraction he needed.

Fighting as a thinking warrior should, thinking as imaginative artists could - imagining as dreaming visionaries would.

Wisely remaining mobile in the effort to seek the ideal window of opportunity, working to avoid static, foot-planted defence in the effort to counter against Makashi, a philosophical, symbolic rarity of which was not lost on the one-eyed Woad at the time. After all, there were parallels for the Khan to compare, thinking that Form 3 countering Form 2 drew striking similarities to,"Fire that fears no rain.", and in this case, Barran was closer to the mark than he had any time to consider in the heat of battle. But deep down, at the root of this growing curiosity, the Khan couldn't help but admit,'Heh! I like this, so I do.', as his feet set into lateral, evasive poise.

Barran's response would be launched a little differently this time, only answering to the opening with sparks kicked up from the Durasteel flooring beneath them, sending up hot (though temporary) embers to bounce of the black mask of his adversary, and all whilst avoiding the center-line of approach. But when his front-lunging foot landed, the left-foot pivot was applied, leading to a frontal approach that ended so close that their masks were but inches away from each other. The Khan had halted himself with the alternate front-foot, but for no discernible reason but persistent curisoty, made all the more apparent when the Khan growled,'But there is more to you!', hammering the point home as the forehead segment of his mask met that of the Jedi knight.

'What is it, Jedi?'

However, it was not sent all the way, and though it was aimed well (fated for the brow of the Jedi's mask for maximised discomfort) it seemed that their heads were destined to meet in the middle instead; and in their adherence to consistent form, their heads remained in place, as their lightsabres had just moments before. Pushing against each other's point of focus, getting in each other's face as if it was a weigh-in for a boxing bout, there was more than mere bravado on show by then, but the Jedi would be having none of it. It was then that the knight broke off, shoulder-checking to provide enough room for an upward slash from low-guard positioning, the Jedi's most-dangerous combination so far.

Forcing the Khan to draw inspiration from the leaping evasions of his opposition, an insult he would set out to answer in kind - sooner or later.

'SHOW ME WHAT BURNS BENEATH THE SURFACE!!!!'

AUXILIA
III

​

ABOARD THE MV: HEART OF MAR'ZAMBUL,
CORUSCANT, GALACTIC DEEP CORE (902 ABY)

<"Vexation, Vexation! This is the Heart of Mar'Zambul! Pull wide leftward, straying toward the Sepulchre.... I have an idea.">
<"It had better be good, Mawite! What's your callsign?">
<"Registered and cleared - Fetters! And I promise you now, it will be.... Fetters - out!">
​

Returning to silence, the acting-Captain of the Mawsworn flagship would watch the Imperial destroyers send lesser gunships to stray toward the Sepulchre, with some even turning about to lock onto the boarding-party's personal flotilla. A good thing it was then that Capaq was not the only one bearing witness to the meshing of formation flanks, for all attending to work the Heart's bridge were watching at the time, taking unspoken prompts from the Keshig-Leader's commlink traffic and working to drift oblique-wide with the Imperials.

​

'Hmmm.... What would Spindly do from here?'

Met with nought but mild snorts of mirth at first, many would wisely treat the renegade Chiss' outburst as rhetorical, considered to be aimed at no Marauder in particular until someone eventually replied,'The Magnarra would find a way to get into the heart of the fight, and leave instructions to chamber for fire-orders, as Rook has done - as the Khan has done.... One of those particulars to our doctrine, Ulusar. Doesn't change much though, fortnately.', keeping Fetters on the right track for everyone's sake. A voice of which, even mildly-acquainted ears like Capaq's could recognise, hearing Dustborn's voice beneath his Hound Armour as the Cirihut hero concluded,'It would be better if I handled this one - revenge for Brennus.', stepping out from his Holoterminal booth with intent weighing down his cadence.

Understandable.​

'You heard the man, manoeuvre between flagship and boarding flotilla! Aggressive fly-by sounds good to me!'

​

Mildly firing off boosters on one side, rotating to support a pivot of the Maw's own flagship, the Khan's flotilla moved to intercept the GA boarding action, though the Heart of Mar'Zambul itself would launch ahead of the other ships, including the Imperial destroyers who were drifting into the boarding action's line of retreat at the time. Making everything seem to click into place, though the process had been slow to find it's directional momentum in the beginning, but for all the odds they still faced, this struggle still remained far from lost by then.

​

'Oi! Zabrak! The bridge is yours, I'm going with Farnum.'

 

[Veno]

He placed charges of his own, one after another. This was their objective, together. The soldiers remained quiet, phantoms in black. It seemed the deathtroopers could do little to dissuade that sense of eeriness about them.

Then, that distant chatter. His helmet's audio sensors were amplified and as a result, overhead the radio chatter. It made him stop, pause, and think to book it. Call him a coward, Veno would call himself a survivor - suppose all survivors were cowards in some sense, the bravest of them died. He would lie, cheat, figure some deal about before he laid his life down for someone else.

The Empire was just some gig he ended up in for far too long.

Once the sergeant took hold of Veno, he smiled something sinister beneath the helmet. He would live, and the deathtroopers would die. To him, that was a fine deal.

"You got it," he said, "Die well, soldiers."

It hardly seemed sincere, running off deeper to continue placing more explosives in order to complete the objective.

DT-1966 - DT-7747 - Sid Berik - Abraxas Colt

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Some Guy: Isar du Vain
Mentioned: Valery Noble | Makko Vyres
​

"You can't stay here."

Makko's voice was soft, almost yielding as his fingers caressed the flush of her cheek. Perhaps he'd wanted her to stay, too. If only to soothe her guilt.

His thumb brushed the hollow space just beneath her eye, wiping away tears and leaving behind smudges of mascara. There was a kink in the somber tension, a sort of pause. Cora couldn't see his smile, but it lived in the particularly wry tone of his voice.

"Huh. That's actually a pretty good look for you," he teased. "Someone out there is asking for your help. I think you know that, too." ​

…​

Master Noble's unyielding presence, the mind meld, the echo of Caltin's sacrifice - in the humid air of the biodome, she felt it all as a blistering rush of cool air against her face.

The illusion of Makko had been right. Cora had felt the subconscious tug, the request of someone else who spoke in the language of flora, but now it was more insistent.

A request. One she could answer for Alexandra Feanor .

Her trance slipped from beguiled to meditative. Still, eyes closed, senses spread all around her as they read the veins of every leaf above her and followed the tendrils of every root in the network below.

The nexus was under threat - but it had not fallen. Such a bastion of Light had helped to support the multiple ecosystems of life the Jedi tended to in the biodome; it was high time that favor was repaid.

Cora reached into the nexus and gathered its strength. Vines, tree limbs and various forms of plant matter, as an extension of the Light, burst through the dome's geometric windows and snaked around the temple. They crawled through corridors and crept over steps, snaked along walls and passageways and trailed over the bodies of the fallen like a silent memorial.

Over the body of Caltin Vanagor , little green lichens would sprout, giving way to thin stalks. They flowered as they grew upward; unfurling vibrant red petals and delicate blue husks that filled the air with something herbaceous and invigorating.

The greenery was fast growing through the temple, supported by those who sought to aid the botanical swarm - and a boon to those who knew how to guide it.

It was a physical manifestation of the nexus' Light, an expression of life that would maintain itself so long as the nexus thrived in compassion and selflessness - as long as the Jedi remained.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Old Senate Meeting Chambers, The Rotunda
Coruscant
- Damian du Couteau -
​

Rage.

He'd never felt such rage from Damian du Couteau. Whether it had been there all along, buried under decorum and civility, or something new, born of desperation... he couldn't say. But it was there. Damian was hurting, and it manifested as barbed anger. Not even towards him, but toward the Alliance.

Which made his betrayal sting all the more.

He paused a moment, keeping his tone even. "The Alliance failed your homeworld. It was too weak to liberate Empress Teta in a frontal assault. Doing so would've castrated ourselves on defenses we'd already failed to breach, and more worlds would've fallen to the enemy. All we could do was continue the stall, until the Dark Empire fractured under the pressure, showed something we and others could exploit. It was an ugly solution, and I'm sure there were better ones." His eyes were severe. "But we never stopped fighting for your world, and that's far preferable to putting your head in the lion's mouth, and asking it not to bite."

Usually, Alicio transitioned to combat when his opponent started talking about the cruelty of hope... but he found he couldn't, this time. Even as his verbal assault turned more personal, even as the senator's lightsaber ignited in his hand. Alicio's eyes saw more of the picture.

The Future flashed a warning. Alicio considered it, before speaking again. "Damian. I never saw you as a failure." In one swift motion, he clasped his cloak to himself, his hands disappearing behind the multicolored folds. Then, he approached.

"You get one shot. Kill the Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance, bring my head to the Treasurer. That will save your people." He said it with a twist in his words. A slight flavor of returned frustration. He stalked towards the senator, each muscle in his body tense in preparation. "The violence that would erupt surely wouldn't extend to the innocent of Empress Teta. All the Core will burn, but your world will remain squeaky-clean. Sith's honor."

"Is this the route you want to take? Prove it."

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

The Last Vigil
CORUSCANT
JEDI TEMPLE

BETWEEN WORLDS // THE FORCE
There was no body anymore. No pain. No blood.
Caltin Vanagor was not dead—not in the way the galaxy understands death.
He was dispersed, now. Everywhere and nowhere, a breath in the current of eternity. Light and memory and motion.
He saw galaxies spin in silence. Stars being born and dying in the same instant. He felt time bend around ancient wounds.
And he felt the war still raging below. The wounded. The frightened. The brave.
He felt them all.
And he knew—
He still had something left to give.

Thurion Heavenshield
His oath-brother, his comrade, his oldest friend.
Thurion fought like a storm on the Temple’s southern flank, but there was weight in him. Not fatigue of body—but of soul. A lingering ache. Unspoken questions. Regrets about Coci, about what was lost, what he couldn’t stop.
And then—
A warmth. A breeze across the back of his mind.
No words.
Just peace.
A hand upon the soul—not commanding, not correcting. Reassuring.
~She knows, Thurion. She always did. You’ve never failed her.~
It wasn’t a voice. It didn’t need to be. But Thurion would know.
For a heartbeat, he would feel his brother beside him.
… to hopefully help him stand taller.

CONNEL VANAGOR
He was walking through fire, through death, still carrying Caltin’s body.
But even as he did, his soul screamed. Not for his father’s death—he understood that. But for the legacy he was about to inherit.
Was he ready? Could he carry this weight? Could he become more than what he feared he’d only been?
And then—
The Force pulsed through him.
A breath. A flicker of sunlight through the smoke.
His father’s presence was there. Still.
Not watching. Guiding.
~You were never meant to follow me.~
~You were always meant to lead.~
And just like that, Connel’s well deepened. His resolve steadied. He didn’t glow with power—but something inside him did.
The flame passed on.

Ala Quin

Somewhere—far from the Temple, on the other side of the galaxy surrounded by medics, Padawans—Ala Quin stood, no doubt with her arms crossed tightly, eyes on the horizon.

She would know.

Didn’t need a report. Didn’t need confirmation.

She knew when the Force shifted.

Knew when the galaxy tilted.

The air around her suddenly grew warm. Familiar. Like sitting in the sun with a caf on a cool morning after training sessions that had gone too long.

~ “Don’t cry, Little Sister.”~

The voice wasn’t heard.

But it was his. Clear as day.

~“You always hated that I called you that. Said it made you sound small. You were never small, Ala. You were fire. You were steel. You were always better than me at half the things I took credit for.”~

She would hopefully a warmth on her cheek. His palm. Not physically. Not even through the Force.

Through memory.

Through love.

~ “I’m still watching.”~

And then—because he couldn’t not—

~ “And if that man doesn’t spoil you the way you deserve, I swear, Ala… I will haunt him.”~

The presence was fading now, but the love remained, wrapping around her like an old cloak she’d forgotten the scent of.

~“I’m proud of you. I always was.”~

Then he was gone.

Because he wasn’t just watching.

He was with her.

As he always had been.


CHRYSOTHEMIS VANAGOR
She had felt him leave. Long before it happened.
Somewhere in the galaxy—wherever her feet touched ground—Chrysa stood frozen, her hand over her heart. The ache wasn’t pain. It was absence.
Until—
A warmth bloomed in her chest.
A memory of hands brushing hers. Of laughter in a garden. Of arms that held without judgment.
Of love.
He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t need to.
Because the love remained.
“I’m still with you.”
The whisper wasn’t heard with ears. But it filled her just the same.
She exhaled—and for the first time in what felt like forever—she smiled through her tears.

Valery Noble
The Grandmaster sat from her position, her hands outstretched.
Her mind, was splintering into thousands of threads, trying to hold the battlefield together.
Battle meditation was a discipline of clarity—but the pain, the sorrow, the uncertainty around her made her waver. Not because she was weak—but because she felt everything too deeply.
Too many lives. Too much sacrifice.
The threads began to fray.
And then—
He was there.
A shimmering presence beside her. Towering. Familiar.
His hand rested on her shoulder.
She looked over—but didn’t startle. She knew.
Caltin Vanagor stood next to her, smiling.
“Let’s kick their teeth in.”
And with that?
The Force surged.
He channeled everything—his strength, his resolve, his love for the Order, his defiance of despair—into her.
Not in a burst of power. Not uncontrolled.
Like a battery, discharging everything he was—so that she could be more.
The threads didn’t just stabilize.
They snapped into brilliance.
And the battlefield shifted.
Every Jedi would feel it.
Every soldier would stand straighter.
Every heart found its rhythm again.
Because Caltin Vanagor had not fallen.
He had risen—into the Force.
And through the lives he touched, he would never fade.

~”My friends! One Jedi CAN make a difference! YOU CAN make a difference. Just think, if ONE can make a difference, what can ALL of you do?”~

JEDI- IN ONE FINAL ACT, CALTIN AS A GHOST IS CHANNELING HIS SPIRIT INTO VALERY’S BATTLE MEDITATION.


(Done from my phone)

Jonyna Si • Valery Noble ~Through the Force~ • Taam Moghul (mention) • Thurion Heavenshield (mention) • Imperius Indomitus • Ibaris Varanin • Domaric Mordane
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Kael Dane]

Obj. I - King of the Hill

Clothing — GACA‑14 Nemean armor
Inventory — BHSR‑1 Service Rifle; GABB‑15 Talon II Carbine; GAGL‑56 “Snarl” grenade launcher; thermal detonators; smoke grenades;
Theme : Painted Black
“They want to rewrite history in fire. We write ours in blood and grit.”
____________​

The corporal was heavy. Kael’s fingers burned through his gloves as he dragged her clear of the wreck, breath catching from smoke and raw panic. The downed walker groaned behind him, metal hissing, and he didn’t stop until they were tucked behind a jagged wall of rubble that might still stop a bolt. Might.

He collapsed beside her, knees scraped, lungs dragging air like it was oil. The air stank of ozone and burning flesh. He didn’t look at her leg. He knew what it looked like already. He didn’t want to see it again.

Kaeld didn't really feel it when Jilkins punched him.

"Just make sure she's alive in the end, alright?"

His whole body was trembling. He clutched his rifle without realizing, tight enough his knuckles turned white under the dust. Somewhere past the ringing in his ears, the battle was still going. Sharp staccato bursts of fire. Shouts in the comms. Someone screaming. Always someone screaming.

Kael blinked and looked around, but nothing felt real. The walls of the temple loomed far behind the haze. Ash drifted from the air like snow. Figures moved ahead in bursts, shadows behind smoke, lit red and orange by the flames licking the sky.

The world was shaking again. Another barrage hit somewhere east. Kael ducked instinctively, eyes clenched shut, then opened them to see the same blasted terrain. Rubble. Blaster marks scorched into every surface. A scorched helmet rolling along the duracrete like a kicked can.

He tried not to think about whose it might’ve been.

He looked down at his rifle, checked the charge. Still good. He’d reloaded twice already, or maybe three times. It was all blurring. His legs still weren’t steady. His ears still rang. But he knew what to do. Keep the line. Cover the wounded. Breathe. Just breathe.

Someone shouted from the front, orders lost in the chaos. He barely heard it. More figures rushed across the open, falling into cover. One of them had the same battalion mark as him, just glimpsed on the pauldron. Familiar. He didn’t know the name, but it made his throat catch.

They were all just names on a roster until you saw them get hit.

Kael leaned into his rifle again, sighting down the scope. No clear targets. He waited. He wasn’t even sure if his hands would stop shaking long enough to pull the trigger.

He thought of the shuttle he arrived on. The way the pilot had discussed with them before the ramp dropped. The sunlight on the temple steps. That was only hours ago. Maybe less.

It felt like a lifetime.

Another shot cracked past his ear, close enough to sting. He ducked, sucked in another breath. Then forced himself to look. He was still breathing. That was all that mattered.

Kael wiped the dust from his visor with the back of his glove. His fingers trembled, but he kept the rifle steady. He didn’t say anything. No one was listening. He just stayed low, watching the lines, waiting for the next push.​

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris had watched Xuko for only a moment longer. A warriors pride, on full display. By how he spoke, Aris had wounded it. Was it the last time they'd properly spoken, when he said they weren't ready? His expression thinned for a moment before he gave a single nod. He wouldn't dare stand in the way of another Warrior.

Instead he focused on his own battle.

Seszil on the other hand was a flash of silver. The sentient sword was fully capable of lifting itself from the ground on their own, to a very deadly effect. Right now, though, they acted a shield, battering away the blasterfire that was sent towards the pool of younglings. When Tigris was struck, though, they shifted. A flash of silver left another pair of troopers apart on the ground.

"Lady Tigris, are you alright? You needn't put yourself in that much danger for the younglings. I will protect them." As the sword that had once belong to Kahlil, there was a natural desire to treat Tigris as a superior. She was the Master's student, after all.

"Seven?"

Aris stood in the now shattered entrance, glancing back to Xuko with a brow raised. Around him, bodies laid unmoving. They weren't equipped right to hurt him, they weren't aware of what could actually incapacitate Aris. They were here to harm them, though. The younglings, the others. Aris hadn't held back, even as they realized they weren't going to win.

Mercy at the risk of other's lives wasn't something Aris could justify.

"Regardless of their intentions, they were people. We shouldn't count their deaths like points." A pause.

"Sixteen, though."

Xuko Pagoi | Tigris Aphra

 

[Kaleb Sunwalker]

​

Location: Below Jedi Temple, Sacred Spire, Force Nexus/Shrine in the Depths

Allies/DSE team: Voldran Molf Talon Draven Darth Bellum /Anyone else coming to the Nexus
Enemies: NJO

Kaleb could feel his mind and his senses being assaulted by the illusions of Jedi that had gathered all around him. The phantom Jedi called him a traitor, murderer, a servant of evil only adding to Sunwalkers increasing agitation. His arms flailed wildly, the phantom Jedi surrounded him, hounding him as if the heat from their lightsabers were real. “Begone! I’ll kill you all, I’ll kill all of you!” Kaleb shouted in mad desperation, his body knocking against the cold, dark durasteel. It reminded him of the Phobos device, but the illusion was just as strong as the pain, his fists tightened around his saber, his eyes snapped shut and his jaw clenched so tightly. As if this light was getting the better of him. “Get away from me! Get away from me! Get away from me!” Kaleb would repeat almost hysterically as he kept flailing his arms back and forth, the crimson blade of his saber hummed violently with each swing of his weapon. The blade struck nothing but air, in fact almost dangerously too close to the rest of the team that followed him.

Luckily for him was the combined darkness of Ibaris Varanin Ashin Cardé Varanin and by fellow Elite Prowler II . The shrouds of darkness started to eat away at the light assaulting his mind, while reinforcing the resolve and strength of his fellow Elite. The next thing that Kaleb knew through the whirlwinds of the fans blowing was the forceful grapple made by Voldran had quickly stopped the dark siders moment of panic. Talon was quickly following up both Talon and Voldran with insistence in their tones spoke plainly to Kaleb. They knew the truth that Kaleb was seeing nothing more than shadows being used against him by the Jedi dogs that dared to stop them.

The fear in his widened eyes would slowly start to subside. His panicked demeanor started to soften. By the time he already came to, the veil of light being lifted from his mind by the darkness empowering him. “Y-Yes… Just nothing more than ghosts… Tricks of the mind. We must keep going, yes keep going!” Kaleb said, his voice slightly shaken as his mind was recovering. Though he had little choice to move, finding himself being dragged by Voldran with both him and Talon cutting off the wind tunnel caused by the fans, moving swiftly over the gap and through the rest of the ventilation system. Perhaps out of worry, or perhaps being pressed for time in this important mission was Kaleb kept in the firm hold of his fellow Elite, until all of them had approached the Sacred Spire, the beating heart of the Temple and perhaps the most oldest. The doors to the sacred chamber opening. Slowly Kaleb started to stand. “I-I’m okay now… The Jedi’s distractions overcame me…” He said reassuring both Talon and Voldran, who understandably held a slight look of concern before Kaleb was let go and followed them inside.

The chamber itself brought an eerie chill to the group, all around them could Kaleb see ancient markings that had adorned every inch of the chamber. At the center of it all before them was a clear pyramid structure. Reminding him of a Holocron, his eyes narrowed upon the strange pyramid, as the object appeared to cover the entirety of the Nexus point, he felt the Vergence almost overwhelm him With energy, for the Dark Side Elite now stood in a spot only few had ever witnessed. The light side of the Force permeated throughout the chamber, as the team would spread out and the ritual to unlock the terrible truth of the Nexus had begun.

All three would begin to chant, bolstered by the dark side flowing through his veins, three minds joined in the shadows was flowing through every fiber of his being. He reached out to the massive white pyramid that covered the Nexus point. The light was overpowering, but there was more hidden under the surface. Just as the chants began, did Kaleb hear dark whispers that came from the depths. The pyramid, the Jedi symbols were all here to mask the rot that was smothered below.

Hymns of darkness called out to the team of Dark Side Elite, as if a sleeping giant had slowly began to stir within the cage of light it was kept constrained to. The chants only increased, as all three would start to work together as one. Reaching out towards the pyramid of light that had kept the darkness of the nexus at bay, slowly did they start to awaken the monster that begging to come out.

“What can conceal can also unseal.” Kaleb would say not in basic but in the language of the Sith. The Urr-Kittat that was dripping through his words had caused the surrounding chamber to rumble. As if the protections of light placed at the heart of the Nexus was disturbed. The darkness below was start to pulse with energy, the dark side slowly bubbling from the depths reacting to the Elite that dared to call to it. The chants started to increase in intensity, with Kaleb pouring the darkness towards the center of the Nexus. Then it dawned on the former Jedi that the Nexus required a sacrifice to be unsealed.

His presence was fixated on the pyramid that acted as a seal for the Nexus. The chamber still rumbled, as the combined darkness of the Elite worked to slowly weaken the seal to the Nexus. Then his eyes went wide as the Force sung with thousands that appeared, not through the ground, nor within the Temple, but it was coming from without as thousands of beings, souls could be felt emerging into Coruscant. Through the Nexus the Elite felt connected to all of Coruscant as they worked to whittle the light down to nothing.

THE CITIZEN FLEET RISES

At first the Dark Sider was unsure of the arrival of thousands, but a sinister look would spread from ear to ear. His will joining with that of the Elite, he kept his intentions focused on the Nexus seal, feeling trillions of people flow throughout the world, but the arrival of thousands if not hundreds of thousands would only deepen his hatred. Slowly the light that had been present throughout the chamber started to dim.

His TIE opened up. Shrieking death, hate and discontent. But not a shred of mercy. Not for them. They were coming to kill him. It was a simple, ruthless calculus that he was going to participate in. They wanted something, his life. So he'd take theirs. All of them.

He could feel them, as soon as the fleet arrived, he sensed the TIE fighters attack like a vicious swarm of wasps. Kaleb started to draw upon the onslaught happening in space. Terror and cries reverberating through the force as Kaleb started to pour death into the Temple nexus. It would take more than just combined darkness, but the combined deaths of hundreds to offer to the Nexus. Pouring all the death into the heart of the Nexus, he would hear a cry echo throughout the chamber. All around the white symbols of the Jedi started to fade, slowly the truth started to come out in the open. The Jedi writings started to fade. Blood red would start to drip down the walls, as ancient glyphs of Sith writings in Urr-Kitatt appeared, clearly sealed over now broken free at last. The blinding light around the room, dimming now turned into an eerie darkness, red accents in the form of the bloody Sith symbols continued to glow brightly as if responding to the chants of the Elite and the sacrifice of innocent lives pouring into the center of the Nexus.

The white pyramid that was the Nexus seal slowly began to shake, through the Force he could hear a cry, as if the Nexus itself was crying out from the terror and the pain. The darkness kept sealed below was now starting to bubble to the surface, amidst the increased chants and the eerie red glow of the symbols. They could hear the dark side trying to break through, trying to burst through its ancient seal. He could see cracks start to form against its marble surface. The chants, combined unity of the Elite and offering of innocent lives to the corruption of the Nexus was taking its toll.

The connection between all of the Elite would start to meld with one another, pouring hatred, pain, fear into the Nexus seal as one could start to witness cracks starting to form within the Floor. More were following along the path of the team, from more Dark Siders, to a Sith soon to join them. Kaleb, Talon, and Voldran could feel one another, as they all joined their power together as one. The shroud of the Elite pouring so much death and darkness into the Nexus would soon reveal the shadows just waiting to break free from the prison of light.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

BATTLE FOR CORUSCANT
CORUSCANT
SENATE BUILDING

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

“In the Heart of the Storm”

Location: Temple Steps | Eastern Battlefield
Time: T-minus 4 minutes until Mordane’s final breach attempt


---

JUST OUTSIDE THE JEDI TEMPLE – NIGHT

The sky is fire.

The Temple plaza is chaos.

JEDI surged outward, robes torn, sabers ignited, coordinating plant surges that twisted durasteel and disrupted walkers. Vines tore apart tanks. Roots crushed troop transports.
GADF shock troopers stormed inward from the rear, flanking Sunfyre, overwhelming their artillery nests with coordinated detonations.
Alliance starfighters strafed high above, trying to avoid enemy bombardment, while on the ridge, Jeremiel commandeered a broken SAM battery, retooling it with a sliced uplink as Raphael swung his rotary cannon skyward, turning interceptors into shrapnel.
Sariel vanished into the shadows, now targeting only cockpits—only pilots. Each shot? One less monster controlling the war.


Sunfyre was becoming surrounded.

But they fight like angry wounded gods.

And then the air screamed.

75 Phase III Dark Troopers descended from the skies like obsidian meteors, crashing into the stone courtyard with seismic force.

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.



Black-armored. Reinforced. No organics. No fear. No mercy.

Their eyes ignited red. Their fists hummed with magnetic charge. Their blasters heated to supernova levels.

They marched forward as one. Engaging Alexandra, engaging Yseni’s forces.

And the Jedi lines began to waver.

Yeah right… did you hear that ghosting your head? They fought like crazed aak dogs.

Not to mention…

---

CONNEL VANAGOR LANDED HARD BETWEEN THEM AND THE TEMPLE.

Not running.

Not flanked.

Facing about 35 head-on. Alone.

The ground shattered under his boots.

Percipience ignited in his right hand, a blazing spear of permafrost light.

His shortsaber crackled violet in his left—Windu’s Guile.

His mask was locked in.

His heartbeat slowed.

His presence in the Force?

Terrifying.

Controlled.

Ready.

And then he charged.


---

FIRST ROW—CLOSE QUARTERS DESTRUCTION

Three Dark Troopers converge, moving with machine speed.

Connel slid beneath a punch, sliced up, and cleaved one clean through the hip. Its upper body spun away like scrap. He kicked the next backward into a Plant Surge root—which speared it through the chest.

The third grabbed him. That was a mistake.

Connel channeled the Force through both blades—an X-slash in its chassis—and ripped it apart at the spine.


---

SECOND ROW—RANGE ENGAGEMENT

Ten Dark Troopers locked on.

Too slow.

Connel tossed Percipience into a spin, slicing through two torsos as he leapt mid-air, twisting—blasterfire deflected in a whirl of violet arcs.

He landed on one, drove the shortsaber into its back, rode it down like a meteor—and called Percipience back mid-impact, decapitating another before he hit the ground.

---

THIRD WAVE—SURROUND AND SUPPRESS

Now they tried to encircle him.

Seriously? Bad idea.

Connel roared—his voice a shockwave through the Force, and five troopers were lifted off their feet, smashed against their own. He was not showing Darkness, he was the Darkness run screaming.

He spun, using the shortsaber to pinpoint disable—joints, sensors, limbs.

Then Percipience carved the kill path.

A blur. A storm.

---

OVERWATCH: OMEGA SQUAD’S POV

Jeremiel: “By the stars…”


Azrael: “That’s not a Jedi. That’s a kriffing one-man war crime.”


Michael: “He’s doing this so we can break to the left. MOVE.”

---

BACK TO THE BATTLE

Fifteen Dark Troopers remained.

They opened synchronized suppressive fire. Their armor locked into anti-saber shielding. Smart.

So Connel adapted. Of course he did.

He dropped the shortsaber into its back sheathe.

And drew his Lightblaster. (Think Ezra’s saber/blaster hybrid but dedicated blaster)

One shot. One kill.

Mid-sprint.

Through neck joints. Through visors. Through core batteries.

He was a blur of motion—shooting, slicing, vaulting, deflecting.

Twelve wenr down.

One lunged with a plasma blade.

Connel caught it … HE CAUGHT IT on his vambrace, pulled it in—and whispered something through the mask. “You’re too late.”


Then punched the saber through its skull.


---

LAST THREE REMAIN.

They moved together. Strong. Calculated. Inhumanly fast.

So Connel did the only thing he hadn’t yet:

He stopped.

Closed his eyes.

He didn’t need to see them. He could feel them.


When they strike—he’s already gone.

Behind them. Above them. Around them.

All three dropped in just over six seconds.

He stood amidst the sparking wreckage, steam and fire curling around his armor, mask glowing faintly from heat damage.

He said nothing.

He didn’t need to.

Behind him, the Temple stood. Unbroken.

---

CUT TO ALLIANCE GROUND FORCES

They saw everything.

Some cheer. Some drop to their knees.
Others just picked up their rifles and charge forward harder.

They don’t say “Vanagor.”

They say one word.

“Omega.”



Then he looked the way of the Imperials and shouted for all to hear. “I am SICK of seeing Imperials here. You don’t belong here. GET OFF CORUSCANT!”

Omega Squad was whole—scarred, tired, burning—but alive. Connel leadsm from the front. The Galactic Alliance Defense Force stands behind them, no longer bracing against the storm…

They are the storm.



(Done frome my phone, so no colors and written a little different)

Domaric Mordane • Imperius Indomitus (indirect) • Ibaris Varanin (indirect) • Valery Noble (indirect) • Magdalena Bloodscrawl (indirect) • Ysennia Lee • Corazona von Ascania • Taam Moghul • Alexandra Feanor • Klar​

 

[Isar du Vain]

BOUNTY HUNTER: ISAR
LICENSE: #23
!WARNING! ACTIVE HUNT: Bounty 1

Some Girl: Corazona von Ascania
​

In the biodome, Cora's hand slowly lowered to her side. The vines uncoiled, relinquishing their deathgrip on Isar. Mascara and tears drew inky paths down to her chin. She stood still as stone, lips slightly parted as she gazed into the perfect abyss laid before her.

Cora reached into the nexus and gathered its strength. Vines, tree limbs and various forms of plant matter, as an extension of the Light, burst through the dome's geometric windows and snaked around the temple. They crawled through corridors and crept over steps, snaked along walls and passageways and trailed over the bodies of the fallen like a silent memorial.

Cold, ultraviolet eyes studied snaking vines and the sudden growth of fauna, even as Corazona stood there, her physical body lost in the dreamworld he'd put her in. That illusion fed on her memories, on her aspirations, but it would fall apart swiftly without a direction. Without an input. He could drive harder, push her toward some horrific vision, trap her in a world of fear.

But...

Isar was struggling to find a point to it all. He rubbed at his arms, where the vines had pulled tight to trap him. Those vines were now on the ground, useless.

If she escaped the dreamworld, when she escaped it, she might try to ensnare him again. To hang him. This would only end with the two of them crashing out, while around them Coruscant burned. He could hear the shrill sound of blasterfire and the deep thunder of distant turbolasers. This whole thing was a mess he hadn't wanted to get involved in. Not again.

How many Battles of Coruscant do I need to fight in after all, eh?

Snorting, the Dark Jedi bent and picked up the shears. He stared at them, then at her. Gripping them in both hands, he opened them up, raised them to her neck. Cold, dull-edged steel beneath the light of the biodome.

He brought them closed with a sharp snip.

A chunk of golden hair fell into his outstretched hand - ragged cut in her locks near the shoulder. No doubt she would be furious.

Better than dead.

He tossed the shears aside, stuffed the stolen hair into a pocket at his belt. Now to get off this rock.

She'd be fine. Or not. He frowned, torn, then shook his head and stormed out of the biodome. If she died, she died. Why should he care? Why should he care about any of them? Fingers twitching at his side, Isar fiddled with his pants pocket and brought out a box of glitterstim. He closed one nostril and snorted deeply, blinking rapidly as the drugs took quick effect.

Ahh. That was better. Now, where did these Jedi park their starships?

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

CORUSCANT | GALACTIC CITY SPACEPORT | BAY 12
objective uno​

Cool, creeping, and wrong. Tansu felt the trickle of black dread flicker through their bond like a bad premonition. Seconds later, she heard Talsin's weary words dribble from his mouth.

Her heart pitched and her mind reeled.

She'd never killed before. She didn't understand the weight on him now. All she knew was something felt very, very wrong. Fear clogged her throat, thickly constricting her airway so she couldn't even gasp. Just watch, horrified. She would lose him now.

Talsin! Snap out of it! Her demand shimmered through their tether like a cold splash. Her breath caught as she reached toward Talsin with the Force. The push was sharp and tight — more like a slap on the face rather than a punch — but it carried the weight of everything behind it. Wake up, Tal. Come back to me.

She reached out to him, and in doing so, split her attention and left herself open.

Tansu felt the whipcrack of air half-second too late. And a moment later, a burning coil of ferro-steel lashed around her ankle and yanked.

Before her brain caught up, she was airborne. Her cowboy hat went flying.

A yawp of surprise hopped out before the bulkhead slammed into her back with a thundercrack impact that knocked the air clean from her lungs. A crack rang out as her shoulder hit second, jarring the socket. Pain flared white-hot down her side but her fingers held fast around her sabre, grip locked even as she dropped to the floor.

She hit the deck. Hard. If she weren't winded, she'd be making a mental note to tell Talin Treicolt how cool this face-off was. Like a supervillain from a cartoon they'd watched growing up with tendril arms spiralling out from their back.

And still the second cable came straight for her wrist.

Tansu grit her teeth and twist sideways, yanking her sabre up in a one-handed block. The blade flared as it met the incoming whip with a sharp, shrieking clash of plasma and ferro-metal.

No room. No time!

Somewhere behind her, the spaceport was aflame.

The broadcast system stuttered between tones and garbled voices. Half synthetic warning, half hijacked message. She caught fragments of Darth Solipsis ’ broadcast:

"…Jedi resistance is collapsing…"
"…you will be spared…"
"…Solipsis reigns…"

Strobing red light pulsed across the bay. Fuel fires crackled up the walls. The smell of ozone and scorched metal bit at the back of her throat. The clash of sabers and the scream of overloaded systems made the whole world feel like a bruise swelling around her.

The cable around her ankle and tugged, as though trying to reel her in.

Tansu drove her sabre down, slicing at the coil as it flexed. The yellow blade hissed and metal sparked and resisted, semi-reinforced.

"Let go," she growled through her teeth, twisting her blade for a second cut. A burst of pressure surged through her arms as she pulled with the Force, trying to pry herself free.

"Who even ARE you? What do you want here!" They were relatively far removed from the central points of attack. Though from Bay 12, the view of the smoking spires of the Jedi Temple was spectacular.

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OPS: Zantra | GE
ALLIES: Talsin Lota | GA
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