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

[Rann Thress]

TAGS: Rikuan Everest Vale
EQUIPMENT: Rann's Lightsabers

Rann couldn't help but genuinely chuckle. It seemed nothing could break this young man's spirits. He doubted he'd be in such a stellar mood if the circumstances were reversed...but he nodded, the smile growing on his face.

"Good lad," he said, offering whatever help Rikuan would take to get him to his feet. He nodded at the young woman who put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, finding himself returning to the man he wanted to be.

"I hardly intend to die here," he said, pulling his lightsabers back from his belt, "And I hardly intend to let you die here either. Or you, Eve," he said, looking over, "So I ain't callin' this a last stand. They haven't earned it from me. Just one more scrap... Let them do what they have to. We stand, the Alliance stands."

The squad of black-armored troopers began to take their positions, and the dark robed figure leading them stood out to advance.

Every instinct in him told him to push past both of them, to handle him alone, protect the young Jedi. But he looked at Eve as she advanced. She seemed confident, ready. He didn't know her, knew nothing of her, but from the way she carried herself, she didn't need him to protect her.

"He's yours, then?" he asked, just to make sure, as he reignited his twin violet blades, eyeing the troopers, "Rikuan," he looked over, "You and me will keep the troopers off our Angelic friend here," he smiled, then pointed at the troopers, "Not a one of them gets by us, yeah?" He turned his head back to her, "if you even think you need help...holler. Otherwise, I'm not going to get in your way," and he looked back at Rikuan, "and you, on me like glue. With that shoulder, no unnecessary risks, yes?"
He reignited his lightsabers and began to advance, stepping in front of Eve only to draw the attention from the troopers about to raise their blasters.
He felt confident. Sure of his team. Eve would handle the darksider, Rikuan and him would mop up his escort. Victory was just over the hill, and the three of them would work together, to take it together.

 

[Aldo Garrick]

​

J A ' A K
"I am free"


Resurrection-Class Battlecruiser "The Prophet"
Former Flagship of Darth Caelitus (Halketh)
Tags: Remus Adair | SCAR | Zethran Cott | St. Thomas Barran | Amelia von Sorenn | Gym Halpern | Mykel Dawson | Prael'rs'akinc | S Shadow Squardron | @GA Fleet




​

Aldo Garrick watched through unblinking eyes, his hand a pale and lacquered husk, hovered over the starmap holo of the battle at hand. He felt it clearly. Resistance. Not only martial, but metaphysical. The Light Side of the Force was at work here, fighting against the infection that was the indomitable Dark Side that animated him and fueled their march into the Core Worlds.

The Prophet's electronic warfare began working in tandem with that of Remus Adair 's flagship, jamming was brute, and quite deliberate. Garrick's network of officers had effects more tactical than the arcane shows of the Jedi and Dark Side Elite, interfering with comms and signals where they could. Wrecking havoc on the enemy traffic as they engaged with Shadow Squadron and the TIE deployments from both the Indomitable and the Prophet.

They were so close, the Imperial fleet continued to move into position, nearly there...

And then… at that moment where the Empire held the line taking the battering of the GADF's navy, the Prophet's autocannons primed. Aldo delivered a swift smirk of sick joy, a sinister look of reprieve and hint of utter madness.

"Fire."

The Prophet let loose, unleashing a barrage of hellfire upon the fleeing refugee ships and innocents attempting to leave the system. Devastation and chaos unfurled, the raw power of Imperial ingenuity made manifest. The admiral basked in the moment, and as each flash from the barrage came true, a red light cast over his terrible glare. One by one, a sudden hit to the Force would be felt as the innocent died. One by one, every so called 'hero' would know of the tragedy allowed to happen under the Alliance's watch.

"Admiral, the fleet is in position."

Aldo turned to face his deck captain with glee, activating a holocall with Remus Adair and St. Thomas Barran .

"Time to close our fist."

THE IMPERIAL III-STAR DESTROYERS pincher around the GADF NAVY after being allowed to move into position, with nearly all their attention held on intercepting the Indomitable and the Foederati Crucifix Class auxiliaries, they failed to engage with the more pressing Imperial navy or at the very least the main force and not that of the escorts around Remus.

The Imperial fleet began firing all turbolasers upon the Alliance fleet in the many positions they held.

​

"Make them remember this folly."

"Admiral! Portside, thousands of signatures."

One by one, ordinary vessels blinked into the battlespace. Freighters. Cargo tugs. Decommissioned patrol boats. Modified liners. Hastily up-armored, shielded, maybe. A civilian fleet. Garrick leaned forward, his voice was cold silk over razors.

"Bring the Prophet's main batteries to bear. Fire on the approaching civilian formation. Do not prioritize military signals. They have chosen the battlefield. They will learn its price."

He toward one of the Prophet's weapons officer, a gaunt young Imperial crew member operating the massive auto-cannon fire tower control.

"Aye Aye Admiral."

Within seconds, the colossal multi-barreled auto-cannons mounted along the Prophet's ventral hull began to churn. Each gun was large enough to fit a starfighter inside its housing. With a low-throated krong, the guns unleashed. The first salvos struck the outer edges of the civilian fleet. Huge plumes of plasma and disintegrating hull metal erupted in the black, leaving burning gaps in the formation.

They had come to aid the Alliance, to be the miracle moment.

But the Prophet did not believe in miracles. It believed in Death. More cannons thundered, streams of glowing red fire crossing the stars like divine wrath.

There would be no mercy.

 

[UNDEAD Aron Gowrie]

TAGS
Gideon Voss

HOW LIBERTY DIES

TEARS OF BLACK TAR - 3​

APPROACHING THE NEW-JEDI TEMPLE,
CORUSCANT, DEEP CORE TERRITORIES (902 ABY)

'Well.... The time has come. '
​

The approaches to the Jedi temple were littered with the dead, having perished from both sides of the struggle, and all in their own varying ways, amounting to varying levels of effectiveness as reanimated corpses. Even the air around them had dried to perfect extremes, marking the ideal conditions to raise the dead, something of which Harbinger would have noticed if he had not been distracted by the violence in the skies at the time, but the undead Tuath's cigarra would find it's way into his cold, apathetic grip eventually. A dead GADF operator then stood, covered in blaster-burns and all, to light Gowrie's smoke - with nought a burning gaze.

​

'Good.... Check your power pack - proceed.'

​

Some would rise, checking their ammunition reserves, shouldering weapons to engage defenders of the Light; but others would turn, feeling agony and terror in their final moments of autonomy, only to feel their souls making way for a feral, guided hunger. But this was just one of two layers of offence, just one aspect to the power that replaced the Tuath's soul, and just like Voss, Gowrie was also able to summon his own squad of,"Tethers", wraiths of the Nether, tar-like, semi-ethereal entities to whom the resurrected war-heroes could give strategic commands.

It was not until Aron took a draw from his cigarra that his tethers began to materialise, rising up through a tar-puddle that pooled around Harbinger's boots at the time, just as another was widening around Revenant's own. Flowing like black tears from their eyes, copiously running off to the dusty ground around them, the widening black puddles wouuld provide more than enough room for their Tethers to materialise soundly in Realspace; manifesting head-to-toe in full elite-operator loadouts, and with room to spare for more behind them, though four or five always seemed potent enough.

'Tethers, secure our approach.... Proceed.'

Taking offensive precedence for Coruscant, Aron's Tethers would be used to screen their approach whilst Gideon's adopted a protective posture around them as they advanced, providing a solid layer of defence in cadence with Revenant's movements hither and yon; and in these movements, the duo could assure each other's safety, scanning ahead and closely-shielding in perfect, cohesive synergy. Adding room for slow, observant strolls through waxing, waning battlefronts, serenity enough to hear the screams, the explosions, shots and bursts of blaster fire at distances that defied explanation, as it was a perspective of it's sort they had earned through their own, individual demises, for only death could beget such calm in the heart of the Crucible.

But the eeriest part of it all was not their serenity in such times, it was their silent, wordless appreciation of the bright, glowing sights, the shrill or earth-shaking sounds - and the burning, cordite scent of war in the air.

 

[Prowler II]

​

Location: THE SEPULCHRE / THE QABBRAT
Allies: Ibaris Varanin Ashin Cardé Varanin
Objective: Recover!

Yes. Yess. Give in to your failures!
The Elder could feel it. He could almost taste the dimming of the light and desperately he pushed further to blot it out!

His presence flared in her awareness, but before she could send a word back to him, something struck deep into her focus. A new wave of cold pressure slammed into her mind. Prowler II's will lashed against her consciousness, joining Ibaris Varanin and Ashin Cardé Varanin in their relentless push. The shields she had been holding for so many began to waver, her own thoughts splintering under the weight of three different currents clawing at her.

Her jaw locked, and she bit back a groan, but her shoulders trembled as sweat rolled down her temple. The illusions flickered at the edges of her reach. Some of the doppelgängers wavered and faded, and she could feel the battle meditation she offered weakening as she fought to hold on.

Prowler's psychic assault reached its crescendo and then wavered. Eyes closed. Perceiving dozens of events spanning through is minds eye, He felt a subtle resistance against a further push of his will. What is this?! Frustration nipped at his curiosity and rage. Like a predator denied a kill, he groaned about within the inner chamber of the Qabbrat! " GGGGAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Mustering more and more dark will he drank from his connection with Ibaris and Ashin in their link and then...

He could perceive the light. Small, fickle and so close to the dark. A sun fading in size! Even stars burn out. But the light remained. No. It did not remain, it did more than just that. A single orb of light fell, a presence of another, then another and another and another. On and on it continued.

With each spark added, the Light expanded in size and illumination. The jedi battle meditation gaining in strength! Collectively Prowler witnessed and could sense them all now. Coming to know them by their actions of unity and surrender to the will of the force. The force's will?! The Elder's physical body began to feel weak. Trembling from the sustained strain of pressing against them all. Taam Moghul , Corin Kaze , Corazona von Ascania , Caltin Vanagor , Magdalena Bloodscrawl and Valery Noble . With all their presences manifest, Hope ignited! The citizens of Coruscant rising up against the ushering of a new era! Far and wide. Big and small. A ragtag fleet commenced in atmospheric combat with the imperial navy. The battle over Coruscant waning in the balance!

" No. no. no. no." Prowler whispered under his breath. Salt water mixed with blood seeping from his pores in droplets. Stress rebounded in till finally he relented and pulled his assualt back out of fear of his host bodies own demise. The spirit is willing, but the flesh...the flesh is weak. Midst gathering his strength, the arkanian pulled on the bond that connected him to his Lord. His master and Emperor Darth Solipsis . Mustering the energy to telepathically beseech, he called out with agitated reverence and zealous fervor.

His own doubts tilting against him, but his faith, his faith rising.

" My Master. If it be your will, " He paused. Mental shaking slightly with strain. " Lend me your power, so I may decimate your foes! Fill my mouth with your words and I will herald your name against all who defy you. My Sith'ari!"

 

[Vulpesen]

Objective: Keep Alexandra Feanor alive.
Location: Jedi Temple
Enemies: Any Imperial Forces
Loadout: Battlefield

Vulpesen continued his path though the temple, his feet breaking into a run as he felt the ebb and flow of Alexandra's force presence. He could feel the power that she exuded, thrumming through the force like a melody he could feel in his very bones. For decades now, he had listened to the force. And now, he heard it like a symphony, guiding his actions in a whirling dance as he ran through bands of roaming imperials. His saberstaff wove an orb of light around him, deflecting bolt after bolt while his men moved around him, placing down their own hail of deadly fire. Quick as he was, it was only a matter of time before he reached his goal. Just in time to see two blaster bolts rip through the women that had given him his two children.

Vulpesen had long since given up on living a life with Alexandra. But still, she was the mother of his children, and someone who he had pulled from death's grasp at least twice before. Each bolt was a rush of memories and a trigger for a rage that made her burst of force light burn against his skin. One hand rose from the hilt of his saber and fingers crooked at the two troopers who had decided to take their chances at shooting the lady jedi. Vulpesen's men knew better than to target those particular men. No need to waste the blaster bolts when a torrent of golden lightning launched crackled through the air in a torrent of pain to hurl them against the wall.

"Why is it that every time we have a reunion, you're getting shot, blasted, or otherwise critically injured?"

 

[Remus Adair]

OBJECTIVE III
Allies: St. Thomas Barran | Aldo Garrick | Vireth | SCAR | Innis Tarring | Artam Macek
Enemies: Mykel Dawson | Prael'rs'akinc | Gym Halpern | Amelia von Sorenn


The smell of warm metal wafted through the bridge as the cleaning droid dispatched at the beginning of the battle arrived. Using a steamer, the viscera that made up Fleet Admiral Ranalph’s remains turned into a metallic smelling mist. It was, rich, earthy but detestable. The smell of the vitamins and minerals which fueled the bloodthirsty commander’s veins. Adair barely noticed the odour. Almost as a reflex his nostrils shrivelled and he began breathing through his mouth. He could still taste the coppery blood in the air, but his mind was elsewhere. Trying to put away the image of his dear Alys and his betrayal of her, to regain focus on the battle. His thoughts returned to the engineers ready to check the stricken grabity wells, “Officer Thatch,” Remus’ voice seemed skiff, as if floating in the aether. Thatch however stood readily to attention and yet physically shrank upon taking in the odour, "Tell Narn to prepare his expedition. But not repair, I think I have something for him." Thatch wordlessly bowed her head and turned heel, her boots clicking against the deck plating.

Things were not optimal. But that could be tempered with a bold new attack. Now was time for audaciousness. Something Remus felt he could achieve with the now wounded Vexation. If he could successfully make his way to the middle of Gym Halpern’s command, perhaps that could turn the battle. Use the new . “Contact Admiral, additional contacts!” The sensor officer barked. Adair’s face turned. The chaos of the bridge and the klaxons blaring had meant that Remus’ disfigured visage fell by the wayside in the chaos after the torpedo and hypervelocity bombardment. “Vessels sir, civilian make. And moving in a massed, coordinated formation.”

Adair’s gaze moved to the battlespace. New transponders lit up. Unlike the ones marked in red for the Alliance, these ones were neutral. Usually such vessels were warded away or escorted by errant TIE fighter outriders. But it was clear, this wasn’t some sort of errant civilian convoy. Nor some Sith trickery. The holocall activated, threeways. “Ah, capital. Good to see you gents.” Remus mused, his figure still coated in blood and viscera. Remus knew it would take too long to explain so he continued to prattle. He did however offer a momentary sneer to Barren. A snub that the ole war dog had frustrated Adair’s planning. “I take it you’ve denoted the oncoming flotilla.”

“I’m sure you can see as well as I can, that the oncoming menagerie of freighters and haulers are looking for a scrap.” Adair drily mused with a bitter scoff, “Consider this an order. Mark them as unregistered combatants.” The blood soaked imperial snapped. That was the appropriate designation of course. “And consider this my order: all commands are to oblige these terrorists no quarter.” He then leaned a little on the balls of his heels, “With of course, extreme prejudice.”

“I am certain Admiral Garrick, that you will cherish a little target practice..” Remus mused with faux jocularity. He swallowed a little. Here they were. These citizens here to just defend their homes and their dignity. About to be fed into the maw of the imperial fleet. If times were different and another master held his leash, Remus might have attempted a wry communique or an offer of mercy. But not now, and not with the company he now kept. “And I presume of course Commodore Luveck will too enjoy this.” He offered an attempt at a wry scoff to his comms techs. They were to relay the command with haste. “Have the Carnivore and turn about. They and their escorts should be able to meter out these newcomers.” But it was ultimately on them. They were unnamed and had sought to impede the emperors progress. Better to die here on their feet than be slaughtered wantonly by the Sith’s callousness.

The Carnivore and Belligerence steadily turned to meet The Prophet And her Imperial-III class sisters. Despite being older New Imperial I class ships, the former Prefsbelt destroyers joined the carnage with great vigour and verve. Heavy batteries thundering into the civilian flotilla, serving to inform the Alliance that such displays of martyrdom would not be doted upon with chivalrous whimsy. With the immediate space around the Vexation a magnetised death trap, the destroyers had extra escorts ready to weed out any fighters or bombers attempting to dislodge their part of the the formation

“Sir,” the comms officer raised their hand, much like a cadet in the academy, “Some of the Mawite vessels have not proceeded to land troops.” If one could call it landing. “They are requesting movement and firing orders.”

Adair would have rolled his eyes, but this was something of a relief. “Have them join us in engaging this current formation.” He was referring to Gym Halpern’s formation. “Whatever dregs the Mawites have left, have them attack on a flanking manouvere.” Adair commanded. The Vexation was now in the thick of it. Close enough to Halpern’s vessels to disrupt their movements, but far enough away as to not render terminal damage.

“Let them come. Let them test the constitution of their hope against the humble turbolaser."

 

[Drystan Creed]

CORUSCANT: JEDI TEMPLE

Drystan cocked his head, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the tension. His opponent's composition was... unexpected. But there was no time to dwell on it.

Meliant retaliated with a flurry of strikes—relentless, precise, and annoyingly persistent. They weren't powerful enough to shatter his guard outright, but they forced him onto the backfoot. And with his stamina waning, even minor exertions began to wear on him.

Some blows slipped through.

Thankfully, his armor turned what should have been devastating cuts into nothing more than scorched streaks—glowing red at first, then cooling to dull heat across his plating.

Drystan held his shell together, barely—deflecting, parrying, absorbing. Choosing his angles carefully, he fought to preserve every ounce of strength. But that sensation still lingered—something leeching at him, sapping vitality with every moment of proximity.

Then it happened.

A slash snuck past his defenses, raking across his chest. The armor held. Barely.

Had it not, he might've been carved open.

Yet Drystan didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed, locking onto what he presumed to be the source of Meliant's vision.

"So that's how you've been keeping up." he muttered. His voice was quiet, thoughtful. Almost casual. "You're using my own strength against me."

Without hesitation, he shifted—his stance narrowing, his center lowering into something unorthodox, deliberate.

His left arm extended. The alloy fingers curled slightly, revealing a faint, rising glow—a brilliant blue radiance blooming in the palm of his prosthetic, forged from cortosis and phrik.

"Alright, let's see how far you can fly..." he said flatly. Then, with a smirk: "...on borrowed wings."

WOOSH!

The blast tore forth like a horizontal lightsaber—contained energy, pure and linear, a blade of focused destruction launched with blaster speed. It screamed toward Meliant's center mass, glowing like a comet, aimed to punch through and reclaim the momentum.

Meliant

 

[Voldran Molf]

Information and Tag

Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare​

"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ["Úr-kittat"] | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

Objective: Corrupt the Nexus
Location: Jedi temple, Coruscant
Equipment: Armour | Sword || OPBC-01m
DSE Infiltration Team: Kaleb Sunwalker | Orran | Talon Draven | Prowler II | Darth Bellum | Open

The man would have honestly been more surprised if everything had gone according to plan. Of course, Voldran would’ve been happy if that had been the case - but just as they began the ritual, the very first thing he sensed wasn’t the effect of the Battle Meditation… it was that someone was leeching energy from the Nexus. The best way Voldran could describe it was that someone else was tapping into the Nexus’ power for their own purposes.

Since he had already started the ritual, he didn’t stop to investigate who the intruder was - he merely assumed they were nearby, as pulling off something like that from afar would’ve been nearly impossible. And he didn’t sense a being of such immense presence in the Force that could be capable of such a feat. Naturally, Voldran was aware he could be wrong… but right now, he didn’t have the time to dwell on that thought. He had a job to do - whether he wanted to or not.

What followed next, however, was... unexpected. As the chanting and meditation continued, Voldran felt it - the bone-deep chill and the skin-crawling aura that heralded Darth Bellum ’s arrival. Such a powerful presence was a tremendous advantage in this moment, something that could ease the path for the Dark Side Elite’s objectives. Voldran didn’t look up, didn’t search for where the Sith had arrived. He stayed focused on the task. If it turned out that Bellum was their enemy and would kill them all… well, the half-breed had no objections to that. Voldran had spent enough time in the Netherworld anyway. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally be free.

The ritual pressed on as all three of them sank deeper into it. Outside on the battlefield, every death only fed into the effort of breaking the Nexus’ seal. To Voldran, it felt like a storm. When they arrived, everything had still been bathed in brilliant sunlight - but the moment the ritual began, it was as though the wind started to stir in the Force. Then it intensified, swelling ever greater, like the first signs of a storm sweeping across the land. The stronger the darkness grew, the more the light seemed to fade - just like clouds blotting out the sun. The Sith runes appeared like flashes of distant lightning, and from the deep Nexus, with every death on the battlefield, there came a growl, a rumble, like distant thunder.

That, perhaps, was how Voldran would have explained it to those who didn’t understand the Force… or maybe even how he himself felt it within. Equal parts beautiful and terrifying.

He continued the chant and focused all his effort on breaking the seals that guarded the Nexus. Ironic, wasn’t it? That the Jedi Temple had been built atop a Dark Side Nexus - meant to guard it, contain it, prevent its influence from leaking out. And yet people were still surprised when the Jedi Order fell, again and again, or when shadows crept into their minds. Voldran wasn’t.

But he couldn’t afford distractions now.

As the cry echoed out, Voldran opened his eyes and saw the white pyramid - the seal - and its reaction. A wave of disgust welled up in him at what he was about to do.

Still chanting, the half-blooded man stood, pulling off his glove and letting it drop to the floor. He stepped closer to the pyramid. Mid-chant, he drew his blade and slashed deep into his own palm - deep enough to draw a steady stream of blood, thick and faintly smoking. Though not a Darksider, Voldran was still half-demon, a Sithspawn. He had been born to two Sith Lords, shaped through Sith magic and alchemy, merged with a Smoke Demon. There were few darker beings present… perhaps only Darth Bellum surpassed him in that regard.

Voldran had studied Blood Magic. And as his palm filled with enough blood, he pressed the smoking, tainted fluid onto the seal mid-chant - seeking to corrupt it even further. The seal screamed in the Force. The blood began to trickle down each side of the pyramid. Suddenly, the structure trembled violently - and a shockwave burst from it, slamming Voldran back against the wall.

Within the Force, an even louder wail echoed… and the white light of the pyramid turned to pitch black. In the real world, a resounding crack was heard… followed by smaller, splintering fractures…

… the seal had fractured.

 

[Khronas]

NEW JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
Dark Side Elite Armour | Sith Sword

Klar

Khronas’ Force-augmented leap brought him down almost on top of Klar. The Jedi raised her two lightsabers with her lower pair of arms to meet him as he landed. The two foes held this pose atop the damaged starfight for a moment, his Sith sword sparking against her pair of crossed saberstaffs. Their struggle was siltouetted against the open hangar bay door, beyond which Coruscant burned under the fiery Sith barrage.

The Dark Jedi could feel the threads of time tighening - his moment of glory was at hand. One he would have savoured, had his mission not been tragically waylaid by the meddling Codru-Ji. Soon, he would be back on schedule, living the glorious future he had foreseen in his meditations.

The sands of fate shifted one last time.

But not in his favour.

Finding an inner strength that surprised them both, Klar declared that she did not feel her future pressing in on her and, without warning, turned a plasma torch on him.

Khronas screamed in pain as the flames of the cutting tool washed over his ridged cranium. While Siniteen’s were blessed with enlarged brains perfect for calculations, pattern recognition and eidetic memories, these boons came at a cost. Evolution had meant that the boundary between his brain matter and his skull plate was not as clear as in a typical humanoid.

The pain was excruciating and all-consuming. Khronas swung his Sith sword in reflex to provide a defensive shield as he tried to regain his composure. He fought to push the agony to one side, seeking to divert the pain from a distraction to a driving force. His New Sith academy training had taught him that pain was an ally, yet even with years of training, it took a moment for him to find his centre again.

Still reeling from the burns, he tried to reacquire his foe, only to find himself bathed in darkness. Whether the blindness was permanent remained to be seen.

But even without his eyes, Khronas could see. The Force was a powerful ally.

Reaching out, he quickly found the presence of Klar, a blight of brightness against the darkness that was consuming Corsucant. Khronas took a deep breath, his lungs burning from the damage inflicted by the plasma torch. He delved into the darkness that swirled around him - the battle mediation of Prowler II , the slaughter of the civilian defence fleet in order by Aldo Garrick and Shadow Squadron, and his own hatred of Klar.

Energised, the Dark Jedi charged his foe.

“If you feel nothing, then the end has truly arrived,” he declared. Khronas fell upon the Jedi in a rage, his Sith sword a blur as he slashed, stabbed and parried, slowly driving her back toward the open hangar door. “Your intrusion into my vision of the future, while unexpected, has been enlightening. I will offer you one small mercy - you shall not have to bear witness to Coruscant burning.”

He feinted an upward strike, which he followed with a powerful kick, sending Klar tumbling out the hangar door.

It was done. Destiny had been realised.

Khronas stood for a moment in the now-silent hangar before falling to his knees. The pain of his burned face surged without the adrenaline of the fight to keep him going. The Dark Jedi attempted to fall into a healing trance but could not quite get there. He drew on the Darkside enemy that was taking hold of Coruscant for strength, still trying to push the pain to one side. A full meditation would have been ideal, but he was in enemy territory and had a mission to complete. His healing would have to wait.

Satisfied that Klar could not have survived the fall, Khronas did not bother to look out the hangar door. Instead, he sheathed his Sith sword and turned, hobbling toward the Force nexus to join Talon Draven , Voldran Molf and Kaleb Sunwalker in their corruption of the artefact.

 

[Tigris Aphra]

​

Equipment: Kurohana Bodysuit, Lightsaber, Bracelet, Echo Stone, vibroknife, Mackie Class Droid, NJO Utility belt

Tag: Aris Noble Xuko Pagoi

She fell into the shallow pool, quickly righting herself. The blow was more concussive, the glancing blaster bolt bouncing off of the Kurohana suit. Placing a hand on the edge of the pool, Tigris vaulted from the water to land in a readied battle stance.

Waiting next to two slain stormtroopers, was Aris' mystical sword. It spoke to her. Caught off guard, Tigris answered, distracted. "Uh, yes, I'm fine." She replied, her eyes taking in the scene. In the few breathes she had been out of the fight, Xuko, Aris, and presumably Sezsil, had taken out the enemy. She was inpressed.

And they were discussing kill count.

Tigris didn't count, not anymore. The two jedi padawan together may never hit the body count the former Seyugi assassin had on her ledger from before and after carbon-freeze thaw. It was a body count that had lead to night terrors where victims rose from the grave, clawing after her. She had tried desperately to put them and her past behind her since turning to the Light Side.

The older padawan shook her head and rubbed her dark hair in an attempt to rid it of excess water. In the back of her being, she felt the more epic play in the Force over the temple and city. The strength of Valery's shared battlemind faltering, then it gained power again through... Master Vanagor. She was not aware of his demise, assuming his presence in the Force was as one of the living.

Looking to Xuko and Aris she began to move quickly again. "Maybe we try to make it to the tunnels now." She suggested. "We have no doors now, we can't hold off forever. We have to get the younglings to safety."

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

C O R U S C A N T
JEDI TEMPLE STEPS:
REAWAKENINGS

Engaging: Darth Apophion ​

Once steel met lightsaber, then the battle was truly underway. The younger Sith fought as well as any of his plethora of opponents over the decades, his every action cold and calculated versus the Lion's wrathful outbursts. He was far from at his best; clouded by the loss of his brother, tearing up old wounds he'd willed shut in the name of duty. There was a darkness about Thurion in these moments, where facing a calmer foe might well spell disaster.

Still, the Lion's skill shone through the raging storm, producing bladework leagues above most swordmasters even in his diminished state of mind. Anything less would have cost him his life mere seconds into the duel. The whip came out, catching him by surprise.

He raised his left arm in a split-decision attempt to protect himself, only for the whip to wrap itself around his gauntlet and vambrace, then eventually his entire left arm. The pain was unbearable, testing the integrity of his warplate whilst forcing him to his knees. He could only raise his sword in defense, desperately fending off any would-be coup de grâce.

But then he felt the touch of his brother. The spirit of Caltin Vanagor reached out to him, and Thurion looked to his side where he would have stood. He felt a gentle warmth spread through his very being, cleansing him of guilt and grief, and he smiled even as more tears fell. The Lion looked up at his opponent with regained love of life. He powered through the searing pain of the tangled whip, and stood.

With but a thought did the Celestial Aegis come crashing towards Apophion, stirred from its undignified slumber, seeking to at the very least knock him off balance. At the same time, Thurion gave a hard tug with his left arm to force the whip out of Apophion's grasp, using the momentary interruption to leap backwards that he might untangle himself, however painful.

With barely contained howls of pain did he free himself, and with it he freed himself of inner conflict. He regarded his foe anew, head tilted as he analysed how best to pick apart his defences. Summoning into his possession his winged helm he'd discarded atop the steps, the Lion was made whole again as the Dark Angel — Chosen Justice of the Force, Avenger of the Fallen. His shield returned to him, snapping to his left vambrace weakened by the lightsaber whip.

"I am Thurion of House Heavenshield, First of His Name, High King of Midvinter, and Lord of Heavenheim," he declared proudly as the helmet came on. "I am the Sunlight Heir, Defier of the Dark, and Protector of the Realm. Submit and face justice, or die."

He did not wait for an answer.

He leapt high into the air, where a boost from the Wings of Glory hurled him down towards his foe, Anarion forming the tip of a sunlight spear. The resulting impact, hit or miss, would shake the earth beneath their feet, forming a vast crater at the bottom of the steps where the fighting was fiercest.

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."

LOCATION: Coruscant - Inside the Jedi Temple
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Rann Thress | Everest Vale - OPEN

The noise hadn't stopped. The now familiar overlapping of shouts, blaster fire, and screams continued to rage on outside. But for a single breath, it all seemed to pass through him.

First, came the Light ( Alexandra Feanor ) It wasn't a glow, nor warmth. It was a tidal wave, bursting from the Temple like sunlight off water, washing over everything. He felt it in his chest, like something unlatching. Like he could finally breathe.

Something else followed ( Caltin Vanagor ) , building upon this sensation Rikuan felt. It was deeper. Steady... strong. Like an old hand on his shoulder. A whisper of calm. Rikuan wasn't sure of who it was coming from, but the Force felt clearer now - like the shadow of darkness had been almost cleansed. Whatever it was... whoever it was. It was helping.

His shoulder still throbbed. The burns hadn't gone anywhere. But something Eve did had stabilized the pain.

Maybe it was the way Rann smiled, or the weight behind Eve's steps as she advanced... like someone who'd already made peace with whatever came next. It brought him clarity, in a way. Tail twitching, toes bouncing, Rikuan's grip steadied. For the first time since the Temple started burning, Rikuan believed they could really win.

He looked to Eve as her white blade rose, the shadows ahead drawing closer. That robed figure, the one that reeked of darkness, was hers. Rann didn't even need to say it.

"Right, we hold the line. No dying today!" Rikuan stepped forward, flashing a grin at Rann "I'm on you like glue, Space Hunk." then to Eve "You got this, Angel Lady."

And then he moved. Hurt but not broken. They had angels and ghosts on their side. The Empire didn't stand a chance. Amber eyes lingering on the approaching Dark Troopers.

​

​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

ARCHIVES
NEW JEDI TEMPLE
Koda Fett CT-312 Quinn Varanin Mercy Tobi Sharpe Alexandra Feanor Ko Vuto

​

"Stand down Knight Braze! Violence is a Jedi's last resort."

Cold steel pressed against Master Zark's cortosis death mask. Fear gripped him but not for his own sake. One wrong move and the legendary bounty hunter might calculate blasting young Braze was his safest option. He tried to reach out and warn Valery Noble of the danger but yossubi gas clouded his senses.

"Make another move, he dies. Then, you die. You listen, he might live and so might you. I finish the job, always."

"So you do have a Creed after all," the Jedi sounded far too calm for a dying man staring down the dark nest of Fett's carbine, "Look around, mandalorian. Even if your partner punches her way offworld, relying on Sith magick sounds like bad odds."

Zark grunted in pain when the bounty hunter tried to move him. He could walk but not without Koda's assistance. If anyone else tried to stop them the temple guard would be a burden.

"There is another way," pain edged his voice, "The High Council Tower."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

NEW JEDI TEMPLE - CORUSCANT
「Streaks of blood are turning somber...」
______________________________________________________________________________
​

She was watching him. He couldn't sense her, but could feel her eyes on him.

Incoporeal, Zaavik slithered through tile and pillars. In the darkness between matter, he relied on the Dark Side to feel his surroundings. He called on memories of his days as a Jedi, visualizing the layout in his head to supplement. He surged through the architecture randomly, trying to confuse his former master, break her tracking on him. He stopped inside the ceiling, one-eyed face melting through the paneling to scan from above. Immediately, he singled in on his quarry; exactly where he'd go if he were her.

They thought too much alike, but this time, it was working against her.

Zaavik phased back into the structure, swimming through solid construction until he discerned he'd reached his desired location. He erupted out of a wall, becoming solid and visible the very moment the last atom in his body unmerged with Temple. All element of surprise was forfeit as he screamed with raw hostility, the Dark Side taking over and guiding his assault.

His left leg extended, driving his heel into the lower half of Allyson's spine. He landed with a slide, teeth baring behind a sadistic smile. Crimson snapped to life from his eager grip. The anticipation of killing her was darkly euphoric.

"Tayiji... you've given me two gifts today."

He allowed the lightsaber's tip to drag across the floor as he stalked forward.

"Look at me, Allyson," he ordered, voice shaky with expectation.

Plasma droned on its way above his head. "LOOK AT ME!" he screamed, striking downwards toward his downed enemy.

______________________________________________________________________________

(hit called with permission)
Allyson Locke | Tayiji | Drystan Creed | Meliant​

 

[Wymar]

P E N I T E N T
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
Battle Armor [MODIFIED] | Lightsaber
Taam Moghul​

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F0RM4T F4IL3D​

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GALACTIC CITY
902 ABY
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE​

The Temple and its surroundings were slowly enveloped in darkness and rage as the Dark Side Elite channeled their power in the battle in the effort to crack and corrupt the bustling Force Nexus that lingered within. In it all, Wymar's staunch rejection of the darkness was only made substantially more difficult. The screams and barking orders of the 501st troopers moving up unto the temple was drowned out the explosions and chaotic symphony of war around them.

Another violent shriek of the TIE interceptors sent a volley of proton torpedoes along with a rapid burst of laser cannon fire to strafe through the Alliance defenders. <"Advance! Bound by platoon! Don't give them a karking inch!"> Grimm barked out to his men, whipping his arm forward with a flat knife hand toward the enemy as he clutched the blaster rifle slung over his chest in his other hand. Another trooper took up position, aiming his 'Arbalest' ATGM before sending forward the fierce javelin of a rocket high into the air only for it to slam down on the laser marked position of an Alliance gun team. The troopers then rushed forward, firing ascension cables into the outer ramparts of the Temple's base, lurching unto it with many of them clashing with Alliance Troopers in a brutalist melee. Vibro-maces, wrist concealed knives and scatter guns were all employed with reckless abandon. The commander was next in the chute, grasping into the durasteel with a choking grasp of his crush gaunts before he ripped a burst from his blaster rifle into the nearest. He glanced back down toward Wymar in the midst of his melee, else he'd report the change in position.

The Dark Imperial Knight had snuffed the life and force from the Leonine, he honed in on the clatter and thud of his lightsaber hilt against the broken earth beneath them, releasing his grasp of the Cathar before he reeled back a swing to sever his head from his shoulders only for the Cathar to regain possession of his blade and his head slammed into the sallet. The composite metal cracked and compressed against his skull, a low grunt of pain and a grit of teeth beneath the helmet. The visor cracked and broke, sending shards into his eyes which broke the top layer of skin with a spittle of blood. It was then that the Cathar could peer into this killer's eyes. Cold and blue, human, but not thrumming with the infernal hatred of a Sith.

He brought his sword up as the burst of Electric Judgement speared toward him, the golden shards shattering against the crimson blade as he kept a death grip around its hilt in both hands before he swiped it away, jabbing a foot into a broken piece of duracrete before he vaulted himself into the air to jab the blade down toward the Cathar's head, following through with burst of lightning toward him past his guard before he landed behind him, turning with a defensive swing of the blade to create distance as he held his arms outward again, honing into the defensive stance of the Vornskr, wanting the Jedi to advance with another flurry of attacks. "He's desperate to live...the heart of his Order breaks around him...he wants to kill you. Let him try. Use that aggression against him. Make it his end." A deep, patronal and authoritative ethereal voice thrummed in his thoughts. The ghost of perhaps one of the greatest wielders of Vaapad there ever was.

His eyes were honed in on the flow of his blade, and when he lurched forward to deliver another cut of the greatsword, the Dark Knight surged his free hand out to pull the Knight's lightsaber to himself with the force, the blade igniting once more as he brought the Jedi's saber up to block the blow before lunging with the crimson saber with the aim of delivering a coup'd'grace upon the Cather, his eyes wide, brow furrowed and focused, disciplined and not befallen to the rage and anger that would otherwise befall those who danced with darkness.

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Tag: Rann Thress Rikuan Valery Noble Corazona von Ascania

Rann and Rikuan surged ahead, blades lit and spirits burning. Eve brandished her own. The dark acolyte stepped forward as the blasterfire began anew. Black-armoured troopers flanked him, wardroids behind them, red eyes glowing through the haze. But Eve saw only the one in the mask. The darkness curled off him in waves.

She raised her saber. He struck first. Their blades met with a crack of energy that echoed off the Temple’s stone. Eve turned his next blow aside, stepped around his spinning counterstrike, brought her own blade down in a clean arc that met his guard. He was fast, trained, but she was calmer. Cleaner.

They moved through the battlefield like two knots in the storm, locked and focused, as the chaos swirled around them.

Blaster bolts streaked overhead. A wardroid exploded somewhere to her right. One bolt came close — too close — but she twisted and deflected it, never breaking stride. Stillness moved with her, humming like breath.

She felt Valery’s presence behind her spine, not physically, but in the weave of the Force, manifesting in her hearty. Her battle meditation held her steady, every step more certain, every breath anchored.

Then something shifted beneath her feet.

It came slowly, at first, the sense of growth. Roots deepening. Vines crawling. Life stirred where death had reigned. She didn’t see the plants at first, but she felt them. The Temple was alive beneath them. And someone was guiding it.

Cora.

Eve turned with the Force and fed into it, opening herself wide.

She exhaled.

The vines surged.

Greenery spilled through broken cracks and shattered floors, curling up columns, weaving around blaster-scored stone. Tendrils reached skyward, luminous with the power of the nexus below. She raised her voice above the din.

"Don't hold back! The Light is with us!"

The acolyte lunged again. She met him without hesitation. Their blades clashed, hissed, rebounded, sparks flashing in a blur of silver and red. He swept low, but she pivoted around it, brought her hilt crashing against the side of his mask. He stumbled, hissed through clenched teeth, slashed wild.

She stepped inside it. No hesitation. No doubt. Eve drove her saber clean through his chest, angled up beneath his ribs. His blade fell from his hands as his body sagged. She held him there for a breath, saw his eyes through the cracks in the mask. So angry. So... afraid. Her breath was heavy.

"Six..." she muttered under her breath.

Then she pulled back, and he crumpled at her feet.

Silence didn’t come. The corridor was still thick with fire and shouting. Another squad breached the hall, backed by more droid. Too many. More than before.

Eve deflected a stray bolt off her saber. Then another.

They just kept coming.

Her shoulders rose. And she turned again to face the flood.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Temple Biodome >>> Nexus Chamber
Target: Pretty boy Voldran Molf
Area Tags: Valery Noble Alexandra Feanor Vulpesen Kaleb Sunwalker Orran Talon Draven Prowler II Darth Bellum
​

Nature was not always at peace. The verdant world had become violent.

The first thing she saw was the great trunk of a tree, bent to the side in a smooth arc. The further up it grew, the more its girth began to wane into a thick, wooden stalk. Flexible, but with strength held in reserve - right up to where it shattered a window to exit the biodome, as if answering the magnetic call that had come from within the temple.

Cora's eyes dropped to the shears. Discarded on the ground, a few gossamer strands remained caught between the blades. Adrenaline hit her, and her head twisted this way and that, searching for a shock of bright pink skin among the greens and yellows and browns of foliage.

She idly combed through her hair, then grimaced. Two fingers pinched the blunt cut of a shortened lock, rolling the roughened strands.

"Split ends," she hissed.

I hope he doesn't sell that on the holonet.

Something splintered in the Force. A barrier eroding, holding back the weight of something great. The sort of weight that wasn't upon you, but could be felt pressing directly against your skin like a threat.

The seal broke. The Darkness spilled forth.

It rippled towards her, through her, and beyond her like a shockwave in the Force. The plants trembled, paling in color. Leaves began to curl. The tree's trunk started to bend unnaturally, bark growing dry and gnarled.

Nausea bubbled in her stomach, but she swallowed it down. A dizzy spell had her stumbling.

How could this have happened? How could they have gotten this far?

Cora pressed her hand to the trunk, anchoring herself to the flickering Light, smothered but not snuffed. Everything around her seemed to tremble in agitation in the Force. Her senses stretched along the tree and through the adjoining vines that had spread over the temple like a neural network - until she found them. They couldn't hide, not with the effort they'd expended to unseal the ancient nexus.

She climbed. The tree's color returned where she passed, a rich mahogany that slowly bled life back into the flora around her.

Then, it grew. And grew. And grew, thick wooden roots tearing through layers of duracrete and stone as they surged to the heart of the disturbance. The flooring of the nexus chamber would begin to crumble at one corner, torn away by roots and vines as they clawed their way into the enclosure.

They're here. They did something savage, she imparted through the mind meld to Valery and the others. It wasn't a full sentence, but fragments of a thought. The meaning was there, bare and raw, and it would have to be enough as her focus honed in on climbing her way towards the nexus.

I am approaching.

 

[Katherine Holt]

Objective 2: Stop the Empire
Location: Senate Rotunda, Outside Data Core
Gear: Armour, Physical Crossguard Lightsaber
Tags: (Direct) - Ellayina L'lerim | Closed
(Indirect) - Ran Serys | Ren | Darth Solipsis | Shannic Wulf | Sahar
​

Katherine paused her stride, the arm holding her lightsaber aloft slowly lowered down. She looked left and right, glancing at the flickering forms of Alliance soldiers flanking either side of her, then back to Ellayina.

She laughed.

It was mirthless, starting out as a deep rumble, growing louder for a few moments, before quietening again as Katherine shook her head. “So, you failed to break me physically and mentally, so now you're trying to do it with words? Spoiler alert, it isn’t going to work.”

A chuckle slipped out through her modulated helmet.

“It also looks like you’ve been slacking on your Force studies. Else you would’ve clearly sensed these projections are drawing upon the Force itself. Unlike the Sith, who empower theirs via syphoning energy from other life forms.”

The sincerity and genuine disappointment from Ella washed right over Katherine. To the winged Jedi, it didn’t matter whether she was speaking truthfully, she wasn’t going to trust a word coming out of her mouth.

Although the words that followed elicited another laugh from Katherine. Even with her face obscured by the helmet, the disbelief she was displaying seemed to radiate outwards.

“Yeah, you might be unarmed in the literal sense right now, but not everyone needs a weapon in their hand to be a threat.” She replied, tapping an armoured finger against the side of her helmet. During their time together, Katherine had become intimately familiar with the Director’s mental abilities.

At times, Ella hadn’t even needed to lift a finger to torture her.

“Plus, committed no crime? Come on, you can’t be serious right now. Part of an invading force? Breaking into premises, clearly intent on stealing data? That’s a couple of pretty big crimes right there.”

Katherine shifted her stance, though she kept it loose leaving it up in the air whether she was going to hold back or strike. But she did use the moment to focus and center herself. The redhead could feel another wave of Battle Meditation coming from the Sith’s side. Katherine held fast against it, for now. If there was to be a fight, she’d have to be quick about it.

“My actions are my own. And sure, I’m certain some will view this as revenge. Me? I see it as justice.” The winged Jedi’s form suddenly snapped to attention, lunging towards Ella with her still ignited lightsaber, blade swinging down towards the blonde woman’s right leg.

An eye for an eye.

Ellayina had broken her legs, so Katherine was going to take hers.

 

[Klar]

​

Khronas

If Klar survived this, she decided she owed Jonyna Si a debt of gratitude. She hadn't been expecting the trick with the torch to work half as well as it had. Which was rather the point - Master Si had nearly 'killed' her with that ion bolt, and she'd used the same strategy to blind her foe. Klar didn't have long to savor the first telling blow she'd landed on her foe, though, as he sent her reeling backwards with a retaliatory swipe. Klar barely had time to get to her feet before the Sith was upon her, hammering her defenses yet again. Whatever she'd done to his vision hadn't seemed to do more than infuriate him.

Burning with renewed power and speed, the Sith rained down blows on her. As before, Klar could not hold him at bay. It was all she could do to keep the most lethal strikes from taking her life - and she was slowing down. She barely felt the several other smaller cuts and slashes the raging Sith punctuated his fury with, just as she barely felt her own arms and legs at this point. Blood loss was rearing its head. Khronas felt stronger than when they'd started, but Klar felt weaker than ever.

The Siniteen blew Klar's defenses open with an upward strike that broke her wrist as well as her guard. A heartbeat later, his boot slammed into her solar plexus. Klar had the wind knocked wholly out of her, and the hanger had the Klar knocked wholly out of it. She had one dizzying moment to see the lip of the open hangar rising above her like the horizon soaring away - framing the infuriated Sith as she flew away. For all her peace with it, her acceptance and the heartbeat of strength, Klar still didn't want to die.

She dropped. She hit something hard, like a rod directly across her back, bounced, and fell further. She blacked out.



Barely alive, clinging to an antenna several meters beneath the hangar door and several kilometers above the nearest hard surface, Klar lingered on the edge of consciousness. She didn't have the strength to climb up and didn't have the courage to let go, so she persisted. She watched Coruscant - the city and planet she'd grown up on and loved her entire life - fighting to survive just like she was. She had more faith in it than she did herself.

For once in her life, though, the skyline of Coruscant did not fill her with comfort.

 

[Cesare Demici]

Engaging: Jonyna Si

March

The twister rithed and spun in a torrent of chaotic motion, covering any form of retreat Cesare may have sought. Despite this, not a single glimmer of fear would be seen in his eyes. Only that same grim look of determined hatred would remain, his gaze fixed on the Jedi scum before him. Retreat... what a quaint thought. There would be no need for such action, for though this Jedi held the forces of nature within her grasp, Cesare was the storm, and by his hand there would be a path carved, a wave of death crashing against the great Jedi Temple, eroding hope till that very structure was little more than a pile of rubble. And if this whelp insisted on standing in his way, then she could drown along with the rest of them.

He let out an audible scoff, his voice dripping with a mocking tone.

"Well, a council member all to myself..."

He marched forward, his lightsaber at the ready.

"Too bad it won't be enough!"

His free hand extended, azure lightning cascading from the tips of his fingers toward his opponent, his feet falling in rhythmic steps as he closed the gap. His eyes narrowed, his mind concentrating on breaking this Jedi in both body and soul. This raging storm around them was more than a barrier... it was a symbol, a testament to the pandemonium present in the galaxy due to the Alliance's negligence. At some point, the madness would have to end. Sooner or later...

There would be ORDER.

As he closed the gap, Cesare's lightsaber begin to lash out, slashing and hacking as he tested his opponent's reflexes. None of the strikes would be deadly if they were to hit, but as any proper duelist would know, one had to understand their opponent's capabilities in order to defeat them.

His focus remained steadfast, despite the anger coursing through his veins. The Alliance... it was their fault that Solipsis had remained for so long. It was they that had shunned Cesare's father and wrote his crusade off for so long. It was the Alliance that had turned their back on the Imperials, allowing the darkness to spread. And now, his father was dead, and all that was left was Cesare's thirst for revenge...

And he would kill as many Jedi as he could in order to get it.