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

[SCAR]

SHADOW LEADER
"SCAR"
Shadow Squadron
Remus Adair | Artam Macek | Innis Tarring | Vireth | Janus Cassel

​

SCAR stood like a sentinel as Remus Adair issued his orders, the polished black of his TIE pilot helmet reflecting the dim crimson glow of the command deck. Not a word passed his lips, only a subtle nod. Not even as the Fleet Admiral’s corpse was harried away, not even as the Emperor’s snapped his neck.

Not a word.

He turned sharply and left with militaristic precision, boots echoing down the corridor toward the hangar bay. Klaxons wailed and flight crews scrambled around the hangar as SCAR ascended the gantry toward his personal TIE Interceptor. Shadow Squadron was already moving, their distinct black TIEs being fed into launch racks. One by one, they shrieked into the void.

SCAR climbed into his cockpit, sealed the hatch, and the rack hissed. His gloved hand flicked the ignition, his veiled gaze falling to a scorched picture, unrecognizable yet precious by the placement, and with a subsequent mechanical scream his fighter launched into space through the blue containment wall.

His voice crackled across comms, filtered, curt, distorted by modulation.

"Shadow, form up. Wing pattern Theta. Advance with the fleet. Protect the Foederati vessels."

He didn't like saying their name, and outright refused to call the approaching ships by what they were. Those crucifix-shaped warships, like floating altars to madness, disgusted him. But they were allies, this time.

“Mawites.”

He scowled.

"Foederati are advancing. The Imperial Fleet are entering defensive positions.Clear a path. Harass surface batteries. Don't break."

And with that, the black wing dove, screaming toward the front, dancing between flak bursts and enemy fire coming their way.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Some Guy: Isar
​

Cora paced through the biome, intermittently stopping to take a cutting of a particular plant. The grass beneath her feet began to curl in on itself - responding to the dread emanating from Ibaris Varanin .

Silas. A small group of Padawans have departed the biodome for evacuation. One of them bears a seed vault. Take care of them.

They all had their roles to play, and Knight Silas Westgard was busy protecting civilians and the younger Jedi as they fled.

As she knelt, Cora brought her shears to the stem of a delicate hydra flower.

Not all of the Padawans would heed her order.

“This Solipsis? Again?” The mirialan boy asked her.

"It would seem so,” she murmured.

The shears made a soft click as they clipped the green shoot. The voice of Mykel Dawson brushed against her mind, and she responded in kind.

Don't get shot down, now. Not before you've had a chance to see the garden.

The Mirialian lingered behind her. Cora didn't recognize the boy, but he was familiar in a way that was unsettling. The grass, which had begun to wilt, regained its vibrancy as Valery Noble 's Light swept over them. Cora lifted her hand, curling a metallic finger to gesture him closer.

"Come here, Padawan. Help me with this."

 

[Isar]

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

Some Girl: Corazona von Ascania
​

Cora lifted her hand, curling a metallic finger to gesture him closer.

"Come here, Padawan. Help me with this."

There it is.

He felt it. Something hidden in the curl of her finger and the intonation of her words.

Game’s up.

“Eh, nah. Don’t think I will.”

Sighing heavily, the Mirialan boy shook his head, the motion causing a ripple around his body, threads of reality shaking loose and fraying, cast aside. Like torn up cobwebs. The air shivered around him, swimming as with heat, then stilled suddenly.

Where once stood a boy there now stood a man, fuschia-skinned and tattooed and dead-eyed. The robes of a Jedi padawan gave way to an armorweave vest, the butts of two blaster pistols poking out from under his arms in shoulder holsters, a lightsaber swung from his hip.

“Ah, good things never do last, do they, love?”

A ghost of a smile never reached his eyes.

He held up a hand, open palm, against impending violence.

“Don’t. If I was here to hurt you, wouldn’t I have done it already?”

 

[Ysennia Lee]

Lt. Col. Ysennia Lee | 42nd Assault
Location: Right outside the Jedi Temple
Gear: GADU-50 Officer Uniform w/ helmet and chest plate | AT-NB5 Blaster Pistol
Assisting: Kael Dane
Engaging: Imperius Indomitus
Indirect: Koyi Freetaa Vaegon Dolmyrian Thurion Heavenshield
​

It would've been a matter of time before the imps attacked the temple. No warning, no fanfare. Strafes from TIEs were meant to test their defenses and intimidate them, but the AAC-5 Speeder Tanks made quick work of them. Of course, they weren't even the first wave. Stormtroopers, dark acolytes, and imperial armor would come down in droves as were they descended upon the temple. Reserve units were fighting alongside the Stormpiercers as the imps ran into a hail of lasers and missiles. They were hitting hard for sure, much of Ysennia's infantry were taking hits, a couple dead and many taking a few scratches, but they have yet to take a huge dent in their capabilities. But it was clear that the imps were gradually dropping more numbers on the temple. Still though, they were holding steady. The only reason the Stormpiercers were covering the perimeter was prevent breaches on other areas of the temple and allowing them to funnel onto the temple steps.

Ysennia observed the battle map on the holo table. She was positioned west of the steps, shots were being traded and the Alliance troops were holding. But then again, she knew this wasn't the Empire's true strength. Stormtroopers, untrained acolytes, and armor. Where was the main battle group? However she looked on the northern courtyard, imps were overrunning the reserves.

"Razor Hound Charlie this is Stormpiercer, push in to support the reserves. Howler Wing 1, prepare for strafing run on the North Courtyard."

"Copy that colonel, we're moving in." Lieutenant Tor Cerex, bothan leader of the northern Razor Hound Detachment was beginning his push. He was crouched behind a barrier as blaster bolts flew at him barking orders.

"Scimitar, prepare for a counter attack, we're gonna keep the reserves from losing their line. Carrion and Forge, support our advance. Alright let's get these bastards!"

Emerging from the formation, Lt. Cerex vaulted the barricade and led the charge to support their Allies. With the rubble littered around, it made it easier to run and gun. Cerex and his troops had made it halfway before imperial fire intensified as they got closer to where the fighting was. In their sector though, a smoke grenade was thrown and it would cover their advance. This was their time.

"Carrion, Forge, deploy your ravens and cover us."

The fighting was now up close and personal as the Alliance troops were turning to rifle butts, some were even tackling acolytes. Lt. Cerex spotted an alliance trooper, one Kael Dane and rushed next to him.

"It's like shootin' womp rats 'ey kid?" He was almost disregarding the trooper. Not asking if he was wounded or not. But as long as he wasn't dead, it didn't truly matter. Cerex and his men had formed a firing line, with the help of the bobcat walkers, they were able to lay down heavy damage onto the imps in their immediate proximity. The raven droids were hovering past stormtroopers, cutting them down as they flew past them.

They were allowing enough time to create some space to breathe for the reserves, and unless instructed to.

Eventually, ziio gunships were coming into view. Lasers blasts and beams were strafing stormtroopers and armor. Cerex and his men were roaring with cheers as their friends in Howler company were giving the imps hell.

"This is Howler Wing 1. We've just finished our run, returning to assembly area."

"Copy that, Howler 1." Ysennia said before she got another call.

"COLONEL! THIS IS SGT. ARRUS. WE'RE BEING OVERRUN WE NEED- AAARGH!!" A pained scream could be heard thanks to the sound of a lightsaber ending the sergeant's life. Ysennia knew the sergeant's position was by the temple stairs. The stormtroopers and sith knights were looking to push into the temple, wearing down Alliance forces and pushing in with alarming progress. Ysennia knew she had to act fast.

"Howler Wing 2. Prepare for a strafing run on the Imps, two passes."

"Roger that colonel, birds are out."

"Marksman Battery, Fire mission. Sending coordinates. 5 rounds. How copy?"

"This is Marksman, Fire mission. Coordinates received. 5 rounds. Solid Copy, out."

Mobile assault cannons were going to give those stormtroopers and sith knights a rude awakening as they were descending by the temple grounds. They would have to fight for every inch to take the temple and Coruscant as long as the Stormpiercers were standing. Heavy blasts landed upon the advancing imps and before they had a chance to react, ziio gunships strafed them with blasts, beams, and missiles. Hopefully the defenders had the morale they needed to make some headway.

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Information and Tags

Minister of Intelligence, Director of SHADES, Torture & Interrogation Officer​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Steal data from the core
Location: Former Senate Building, Coruscant
Equipment: 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Short sword 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tags: Katherine Holt | Closed

Ella had learned a great deal in recent times, though she hadn’t truly developed any new proficiencies in the Force. It had become clear long ago that the young woman wasn’t particularly gifted in that regard; her talents lay mostly in mental disciplines - such as inflicting psychic torment, torture and perhaps inducing hallucinations. Mental abilities, it seemed, were her true strength, but little else. Perhaps this was due to a trace of Umbaran blood that had once mingled with the Kala’myr bloodline - though Ella herself had no knowledge of this.

For that reason, she had never trained in lightsaber combat either. Despite being Force-sensitive, which granted her heightened senses and strong instincts - something most people would simply call luck - her potential never went beyond that. It was precisely this limitation that had prevented her from ever joining the Dark Side Elite; her abilities simply wouldn’t have been enough.

In other areas, however, the woman had grown significantly. Yet due to her persistent shortcomings with the Force, she was never adept at locating others through its flow - not through Force patterns, nor auras at least. Thoughts would have been a different matter entirely. But lacking the skill, she did not sense that her former guest, Miss Holt, was nearby - or that she had already found her.

There was only one presence Ella could detect within the former Senate building, and that was the aura of Darth Solipsis . Reports and data confirmed his arrival in the Senate "hall", the very chamber where once both the Alliance and even the Republic had held their assemblies.

Through the comms channels, Ella listened in on the broadcasts from within, as well as the communications between other teams both inside and outside the building. She was lucky. The other ongoing attacks - and the appearance of the Emperor himself - were more than enough to draw away the attention of the guards and everyone else. As Minister of Intelligence, this allowed her to move freely, even without needing to activate her cloaking device.

Today, she had no desire to hide.

She was ready for whatever might cross her path on the way to her destination. She trusted that the presence of the Emperor and her own mentor would be enough to keep all eyes turned elsewhere, so she could operate exactly as she wished - undisturbed.

It was a beautiful collaboration, how the pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, one after another. Until, finally, the full picture would be revealed - the one that would lead to the triumph of the Galactic Empire. She believed in it, deeply. For now, there were no longer doubters or weaklings among their ranks. Those who had never truly believed in their cause had already left to seek their fortunes elsewhere - they had become traitors.

Only those remained who truly believed that the Empire could bring order and peace to the galaxy. Those who had faith that Solipsis would lead them to victory. And Ella was one of them.

As she advanced toward her goal, only two guards had to be eliminated - a process that, fortunately, didn’t cost her much time. At last, she reached the part of the building where the data centre was located - the core. It was time for another piece to fall into place.

She stepped up to the door, preparing to open it...

 

[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 | Prowler II | Open

The word that lingered most in the man’s mind was boy.

Had the other Arkanian known the truth, he might not have said it. Of course, Voldran hadn’t lived for centuries like his mother had - but still, there were already many decades behind him, even if it didn’t show. Now, clad in his armour - one that seemed woven from shadows - his face remained hidden. Perhaps only his crimson eyes could be seen through the visor of his helmet, yet even those were not the red of a Sith. They lacked the gold. Just red irises.

He didn’t know how old the other man truly was - though he appeared aged now - but even so, Voldran didn’t like being called boy. He had seen far too much for such a word, even if it was meant as a casual form of address.

There were four of them at present, and the man hoped others would join them in due time. The more they were, the faster they could reach the objective - and finish the task at hand.

When Voldran sensed the battle meditation being projected by Valery Noble and its disorienting effect, a low growl rumbled from beneath his helmet. The woman’s power caused him pain. Not his Arkanian half - but the side of him that was smoke-demon. The same was true when the man sensed the battle meditation cast by Ibaris Varanin . Another bitter growl escaped from under his helm.

Though that second Force presence was meant to be supportive, it was no less disturbing to him - a man who walked the neutral line and wrestled with his darker side.

Every such intrusion only deepened Voldran’s loathing of the Force - and reinforced his desire to see it obliterated entirely. Even if it meant dying himself, consumed by the demon within.That said, he could at least agree on one thing: the war was going nowhere. It was here to stay. Wars had always been the same, ever since the first one had begun.

As these thoughts occupied his mind, the man moved toward the temple, setting a pace that allowed Kaleb to lead, since he knew the layout. They reached the temple wall, where the other man came to a stop. Voldran glanced around, scanning for enemies - or anyone who might have spotted them - but all appeared quiet for now. They had entered through a ventilation shaft.

Once Kaleb moved ahead, Voldran turned to the other two.

"In this armour, I’m the loudest. I’ll bring up the rear and cover us." he said, letting them pass before following as the last in line.

Once he, too, entered the temple, Voldran could feel the discomfort intensifying - the presence of the Light Side gnawed at him. If he had any say in the matter, he would have avoided this place entirely. But duty demanded otherwise.

Reaching out into the Force, he sensed countless auras and presences within the temple. Already, he could tell there were beings approaching. Whether these Force users had sensed their group, or were merely heading out to assist others - Voldran didn’t care to find out.

"Let’s move quickly. Keep going so we’re harder to track. And avoid the Jedi if we can - they’ll only slow us down."
he advised, still in his typically polite tone.

Once more he turned to look at his companions, signalling that they should continue. Especially Kaleb - without his guidance, they could wander this colossal temple for days before finding the correct path.

The half-breed wasn’t pleased to rely on someone else so much for this mission…

 

[Aris Noble]

He wasn't here the last time Coruscant had been attacked. A ping filled his ears as he stared up towards the darkening sky, his expression as devoid of emotion as ever. This wasn't good. This was bad, right? Why were they attacking Coruscant? Who even were they? There were so many questions to have answered, but no group came to mind considering what he knew.

So a different group that had successfully gotten into the core during the chaos of the expansion.

For once, his expression tightened. He'd been focused on the expanse, on the worlds that might have been lost all under the assumption other groups were doing the same. What a foolish thought.

"Aris, I'm in the main atrium, I'm going to look around for stragglers."

"I'll give a look out too."

He turned from the sky, instead focusing on the heartbeats around him. The Jedi might be a target. They always were in the past, but Coruscant was no longer their main temple, so perhaps they wouldn't be the focus? It was a hope. Close. A group. He sped off, sprinting through the hall before he came upon them. A group of four younglings and a familiar face.

Relief was immediate that the kids weren't alone, especially here in the Thousand Fountains.

"I can hear another group close by, and Padawan Tigris is in the main Atrium. Let's get the others and meet up with her, yeah?"

Xuko Pagoi | Tigris Aphra

 

[Rann Thress]

TAGS: Rikuan
NEARBY: Ysennia Lee Kael Dane
EQUIPMENT: Rann's Lightsabers

"GAH!"

Rann immediately re-ignited his lightsabers when the stranger popped down. Realizing the stranger wasn't hostile, Rann exhaled sharply, only then aware he'd been holding his breath, and switched his sabers back off. "That was... startling," he muttered, shaking his head before he put on his trademark smile, "I don't think I've ever been complimented on fighting quite like that," he chuckled and attached his sabers to his belt, walking over to his new friend,
"Don't worry friend, I'm gonna try not to give you a reason to take a swing at me,"
He pat the jedi on his shoulder, then followed the young makurian's finger towards the smoke in the distance and nodded before he locked eyes again and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm headed to the Temple, too," his smile never once leaving his face, "I'll be glad of the company..." his face hardened for a moment, noticing the padawan braid, "but you make sure tokeep yourself safe, young one. The second things get..." he squinted, trying to choose his words carefully. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of saying 'hairy'. "...dicey, if you need help come on over, don't try to be the next Sword of the Jedi. Not today." He nodded and smacked the young Jedi's shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.

He wouldn't dare tell the kid not to fight. Not today. He had to, he also doubted he'd listen to Rann much at all. Rann wouldn't listen to Rann. "Oh, by the way," he said as he began backing away and sprinting towards the Temple, "I'm Rann!"

He sprinted towards the Temple, hopping over obstacles and dodging blaster fire as he made his final approach, hoping up onto an over turned troop transport and looking towards the main entry of the Temple.

The shattered doors caused his heart to drop. They were already inside. However, a valiant defense was being mounted at entrance still.
Hope was not yet lost.

"I'm uh...I'm no Jedi, I've never set foot inside the Temple," he told his new friend, "If..." he paused, and forced a smirk, "when we get inside, I'm going to need you to help me around so I don't get lost, but first," he pointed towards GADF personnel making a stand, "They need help." He hopped off the tank and moved forward. A squad of Imperials noticed him and in unison raised their blasters. Rann, in response, raised his robotic right arm and grabbed a crashed aerial vehicle with the Force, throwing it at the troopers and slamming them aside. "C'mon!" He shouted, igniting his twin sabers again as he moved to engage the enemy.

 

[Dean Walker]

“This is Director Persephone. Solipsis has already been sighted at the Senate. Any who are not already occupied, should intercept and stop his efforts. My Agents, you know what you need to do. Impede their Intelligence operatives, stop their attempts to gain control of the network.”

After hearing her transmission, Dean's voice crackled back over the secure channel, "Copy that, Director," he said, eyes scanning the corridor ahead of him. The faint light strips overhead flickered, and emergency power was keeping panels alive. "I'm inside the Senate building now, pushing toward the western access halls. No eyes on friendlies yet."

He moved as fast as he could, every sense stretched thin for the smallest hint of motion. Shouts echoed faintly in the distance, likely blasterfire further off. He pressed himself to the edge of a column and peered around it, sweeping the next junction before moving ahead.

"I'll link up with any of ours I can find," Dean added, tone calm despite the tension in his body. "Until then, I'll keep moving and try to stay ahead of their push."

He tapped the comm once more before moving on, "Walker out." Then he slipped deeper into the hallways, alone for now, but ready to fold in with the first allied agent that crossed his path.

Persephone Lyrrin | Open for opposition
​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Some Guy: Isar
​

The illusion unraveled, and the gardening shears were at Isar's throat. The point of each blade pressed to either side of his windpipe.

"You didn't last as long as I thought you would." Cora drew in a sharp breath through her nose. "A pity."

What was behind those withering, dead eyes?

The shears didn't move. The hand that held them was steady. Her face had lost some of its baby fat in the time between their first encounter on Coruscant - but her features were still soft, now only a little more angular. Enough to cast deeper shadows over the disappointment she wore so passively.

Her gaze slid down, a quick once-over before locking back onto his vacant stare. Cora made a small noise from the back of her throat. Another sound of disappointment.

He did not bear imperial insignia. She couldn't remember if he ever had before.

"If you've come to apologize, you have incredibly poor timing."

Apologies didn't usually involve blasters and a lightsaber. Coming armed had been a smart choice, at least.

 

[Prael'rs'akinc]

Objective: 3, Cinders
Location: Coruscant High Orbit
Tags: [Allies] (Direct) Gym Halpern / Mykel Dawson (Inderect) Valery Noble
[Enemies] (Direct) Remus Adair (Indirect) Ibaris Varanin

Prael'rs'akinc was glad to see reinforcements starting to flick into being in the space around Coruscant, even if they consisted of only a single Defender and a few squadrons of starfighters. Still, it was better than nothing, and as IFF data started to stream in she opened up an encrypted channel to both groups.

"Captain Halpern, Jedi Dawson, glad to have you two along, my flotilla and squadrons are preparing for a run on that dreadnought. If one or both of you could be so kind as to cover my ass when it retaliates, it'd be much appreciated."

With her message sent Commander Elrsak had her nimble corvettes gun their engines, simultaneous waves of of lethargy and motivation washing over her and her crews as the dueling battle meditations began to try and influence the battle for their side.

Around the small ships the X-wings formed up into two waves, the first to screen the formation for any defensive fighter formations. The second ready to try and punch a hole in Remus Adair ’s ship’s shield for the corvette’s turbolasers to hopefully take advantage of the temporary gap as the flew by.

Spoiler: Void Hounds, 900m

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Lance - Undamaged
Captain - Cmd. Prael'rs'akinc
Nova Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Aurora Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Dragon - Undamaged
Captain - Lt. Vero Olen (M Human)
Thunderbolt Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Hellstorm Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Tracker - Undamaged
Captain - Lt. Kandra Thorne (F Human)
Stormhawk Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Viper Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Stalker - Undamaged
Captain - Sr. Lt. Trov Nee'Fray (M Bothan)
Vanguard Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Marauder Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Hunter - Undamaged
Captain - Lt. Ronis Daival (M Human)
Wyvern Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Cerberus Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

Bel Iblis-class Corvette - ANS Void Talon - Undamaged
Captain - Lt. Rik Hamne (M Human)
Saber Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)
Dagger Squadron: GAX-75 X-Wing Starfighter (16/16)

 

[Rikuan]

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

LOCATION: Coruscant - Returning to the Jedi Temple
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Rann Thress - OPEN

Rikuan blinked hard, ears still twitching from the rush of adrenaline, not just from the sudden near-lightsaber-to-the-face, but from something else... something deeper, darker. Like a bad frequency playing inside his mind. He scratched the side of his head, tail flicking uneasily behind him as Rann patted his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh-- yeah, no, you're good! Totally didn't almost pee myself or anything." His voice cracked into a laugh that didn't quite hide the tension clenching his jaw. "Wasn't ready for a handsome dude with two lightsabers to be, like, voom! Right in my face."

He chuckled, but there was a flicker in his eyes. He couldn't shake this weird feeling as he listened to the man confirm that he was indeed headed to the Temple. The dark weight ( Ibaris Varanin ) that had started pressing on his skull minutes earlier, that cold, worming pressure was still there. Something trying to dim the spark inside his chest, fill him with dread and hoplessness. He hadn't even realized it wasn't his own thoughts until Valery Noble 's voice lit up in the back of his skull like a spotlight.

"My fellow Jedi, shield your minds and draw on my strength. Let me be your anchor. Resist the Dark side and don't let it in."

He exhaled slowly, shoulders finally starting to settle. "Okay… okay. I think I'm good now," he mumbled, half to himself, half to the Force.

Rann offered the warning - not to try and be a hero. Rikuan nodded a bit too quickly, like a kid pretending he was totally gonna follow the rules. "Right, yeah, totally. No lone heroics. Just me and my buddy Rann and a whole kriffload of stinky Imps. Oh! Name's Rikuan."

Rikuan bolted after Rann, headed toward the Temple. He vaulted over debris and ducked through wreckage, trying to keep up with the senior Force user. The Temple loomed closer. The fighting grew denser. And despite it all, the noise, the fear, the fog of darkness clawing at the edge of his mind... something in Rikuan had steadied. The Light hadn't left him. And he wasn't alone.

The Makurian stopped alongside Rann on the overturned transport, crouching low as he watched the firefight at the Temple. Blasters tore across the plaza. His heart sank, he wondered how many were dead or injured. However, he fought off the dread in his chest and determination rose in its place. Then Rann revealed he wasn't a Jedi and he actually he'd never stepped foot inside the Jedi Temple.

Truth is, he lived at the Temple on Tython and hardly ever went to Coruscant. He was only here to study with his Master Jonyna Si . He hoped she was okay.

Rikuan watched as Rann jumped into battle to help some GADF personnel. Without hesitation, he followed suit. His lightsaber ignited mid-air with a familiar snap-hiss, yellow blade catching two bolts before his feet even hit the ground. He hit the ground in a blur, low, fast, and fluid, tail whipping for balance as he slid into a rising spin.

One trooper didn't even see the slash coming, a clean diagonal arc through his weapon. Another raised a stun baton, but he was too slow to act. Rikuan dropped low, leg sweeping the trooper's feet while delivering a sharp elbow to the gut on the way down. In one motion, he kicked off the downed soldier's chest and flipped backwards, landing behind Rann in a ready stance.

"I just got my brain unscrambled and now I'm fighting a war zone with some rogue space hunk named Rann who thinks I know the Temple layout like the back of my tail." he muttered with a grin. "Oop! Speeder... two o'clock!"

He vaulted off a pile of rubble and landed on the edge of the speeder's hood, dragging his saber across its side to disable the repulsorlift. Sparks flew. The whole thing sagged and skidded, lurching into a line of troopers.

People often forgot that if Rikuan wasn't such an undisciplined troublemaker, he'd be a Knight by now.

​

​

 

[Vaegon Dolmyrian]

Objective: King of the Hill
Coruscant

Soon, the shouts of orders and instructions turned to the wails of the dying. A haunting sound filled the stone corridors and cracked ceilings. Yet one pierced through all others, not shouted or spoken, but thought. The mind of a Padawan, Vera Noble, had reached out telepathically and talked directly to him. The skill alone to accomplish such a feat for one so young stunned him. And the fact that she knew who he was, despite that they had never met.

Don't let them corner you. Keep your back to an exit.

Vaegon responded to the Padawan, while Vera said she was in her chambers, he preferred that she flee to safety instead of engaging in a fight. Moved by the time sensitivity of the situation, he took off down a long colonnade. Vaegon could sense she was certain she was bout to be encountered by a dangerous member of the Dark Side Elite.

He turned east with haste, passing no one. In this wing, the Temple had already emptied. Only the remnants remained, flickering lights and left behind equipment. He could smell the oily scent of power cells ruptured by saber strikes, as well as ozone from the battle unfolding around them. Soon, he found the first bodies, several Jedi and a single black armored Darksider, or what looked like one. Shards of broken statues lay scattered across the floor.

The Jedi master was running out of time. Quickly, he unfastened his lightsaber from his belt so he was ready to fight.

I am almost there.

Passing under a broken arch, he had pinpointed the girl's location when she first spoke to him. But soon enough, he would arrive.

Rannan Kol

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

CINDERS
IV SEPULCHRE
SPACE
PHYSICAL PROXIMITY: Ibaris Varanin Thomas Barran Nathan Bloodscrawl

The qabbrat was in use; its maker, Ashin's eldest, had by far the greater claim. To do her part, to have her daughter's back as she'd so often failed - no, chosen not - to do, Ashin improvised a meditation chamber with a locked door, a killed light, the table of a conference room that stank of rage. She laid on the table with her armorweave cloak bundled up as a pillow and took her mask off in the dark.

A shiver in the table steel testified of boarders and counter-boarders. Her pilot, language tutor, and tattoo artist, a hulking Massassi named Jaccath, sat dead silent by the door in case the situation became urgent. If he disliked the dark, child of stark-bright Tash-Taral as he was, he gave her no indication. Theirs was a connection of mutual benefit, 'work friends' so far as employer and aide could be, and she had trusted him for years in more vulnerable times.

Always the question, though. Anyone could betray anyone.

Typhojem alone knew why. Under various faces and names, Ashin had sat at the feet of scientists at New Habat University; she'd learned how little meaning the self had, conglomerate of neurons and stray moments that she was. People were all sacks of contradiction seeking fulfilment and other stimulus, some by conquering, some by playing the hero.

She had a great respect for those who, like Ibaris and her other mother, had a talent for battle meditation. Her own attempts at that ability were sixty, seventy years in the past. What would it be like to understand those malleable little sacks of chaos well enough to connect them by their commonalities with such elegance?

She shuffled a little on the steel table in the dark and called on the kind of power that only someone like her could face, and that only after a century of painstaking practice. The power to face herself, insoluble, irreconcilable.

All the shame-fuelled envy for the love her daughter Quinn felt for a surrogate mother. All the long years splitting her finite attention between her wife and lives upon lives elsewhere, seeking fulfilment in self-reinvention. All forsaken opportunities to train and fight and enjoy life alongside her three daughters, none of whom she called a friend, and for all that they had agency the root cause lay with Ashin.

Fury had its bread-and-butter place. Most species of hate and annihilative lust were just the power source of children like the Rhandites and the Sith. The will to dominate was likewise weak, so prone to boredom in the end. No, the deepest and most valuable strength was clarity of self-sight without the weakness of excuse or the absurdity of absolution or forgiveness. The strength to see.

She saw, then. Not inside their baffling little hearts and minds, but as if the Jedi Temple was laid open in cross-section, she saw it all. The brutal clash outside the temple gates; the skirmishes around the archives within; Padawans evacuating through hidden tunnels since their councils had not seen fit to evacuate them in the face of known invasion. Because, like any other flopping little sacks of impulse, those councils - including people she respected - had chosen the way forward that felt good.

Recently retired from decades as a teacher, Ashin felt a cold but real impulse to teach them. That impulse toward fulfilment made as little sense as Jedi strategy today.

Instead, while grasping the awareness that would determine her next ritual play, she began picking a smaller indulgence. Lives upon lives, she was only human.

 

[Lyrrin]

Objective: Thunderous Applause
Allies
Dean Walker Persephone
Foes
[Open]

---

Lyrrin, who had signed on with the Alliance Marshals some time ago, had never intended to help the Strategic Intelligence Agency in a meaningful way again since his amicable resignation long ago. He had planned to turn a new page and find new adventures to engage in ... though there he was.

On one of his first assignments to the former capital of the Galactic Alliance as an Alliance Marshal to execute a warrant on a low-level Spice smuggling ring in the local, high traffic, spaceport he found himself in the midst of yet another attack by the Sith or Imperials. It was hard for him at this point to distinguish between them in this day-and-age "How did you even get this code?" Lyrrin muttered to himself as he had been diverted to the Senate building partially out of duty to the Alliance and partially due to the call from Persephone "If I die because of this I want full honors and a plaqu-no a statue at the HQ. Make it heroic, maybe put me on a Tauntaun with a lightsaber in one hand and the Jedi Temple in the other." he spoke out loud in a hushed voice assuming that even though he had ended the call with the SIA they could still hear him. Because why wouldn't they?

The Farghul held his blaster pistol with both hands in a low position as he put his back against the corner of a hallway within the building then slowly peaked out, only his yellow eyes and pointed ears visible across the edge, for him to suddenly catch sight of some Human ( Dean Walker ). Lyrrin retracted himself behind the corner fully then, taking a steeling inhale of Coruscanti air, flipped around the corner with his blaster pistol aimed at the figure "Halt! Alliance Marshals - do not move!"

 

[Kael Dane]

Obj. I - King of the Hill​

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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 : N/A
“They want to rewrite history in fire. We write ours in blood and grit.”
____________​

Kael flinched as a blaster bolt cracked against the shattered column above him, spraying hot stone chips across his armor. He pressed his back tighter to the cover, trying to breathe through the reek of smoke and scorched duracrete. His visor was smeared with dust and static. No squad in sight. No orders in his ear. Just noise and fire and the dull ringing behind his eyes.

This wasn’t what training felt like. In the sims, there were objectives, structure, someone shouting instructions. Here, in the courtyard of the Temple, there was nothing but chaos. Screams. The snap-hiss of lightsabers somewhere ahead. Bodies.

He wasn’t even sure where the line was anymore. One second they’d been holding, and the next, the sky cracked open with cannon fire and the world turned to ash.

His grip on the BHSR‑1 rifle was stiff. Too tight. He hadn’t noticed his hands shaking until he tried to reload and dropped the power pack.

He cursed under his breath and scrambled to grab it, just as someone vaulted the low wall beside him.

Blaster fire lit the space around them like lightning. A Bothan in Alliance armor dropped next to him, already shouting orders to others Kael couldn’t see. His voice was rough, commanding, confident.

"Like shootin' womp rats, eh, kid?"

Kael looked up, eyes wide. He recognized the pauldron. Same battalion. 42nd Assault. He didn’t know the officer’s name, but he’d seen him before during muster. Close enough to feel familiar. Close enough to feel real.

Kael gave a shaky laugh, just a breath. "Yeah… if the womp rats shot back with heavy repeaters."

The Bothan had already turned, laying down suppressing fire, his squad moving like they’d rehearsed this a hundred times. Kael felt small in comparison. Small, and young, and out of place.

But he wasn’t dead. Not yet.

He popped up just long enough to fire two rounds. One went wide. The other hit a stormtrooper center mass. The man dropped. Kael ducked again, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

Another explosion shook the ground, and someone screamed nearby. He tried not to look.

The officer and his team were pushing forward, pressing the Imperials back with support fire from one of the walkers. Kael hesitated, then scrambled up behind them, staying low. It wasn’t bravery that moved him, just instinct.

He wasn’t a hero. He was just trying not to die.

Kael’s breath came fast and shallow. He muttered to himself, trying to hold it together.

"Come on… just stay close. Don't freeze up."

He didn’t know if anyone heard him. He didn’t care. His rifle was loaded again. The enemy was still coming.

And the gates of the Jedi Temple loomed ahead like the edge of a storm.​

 

[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 | Thomas Barran




​

Like a specter from another age, the Prophet cut through the void on approach to Coruscant, her silhouette unmistakable even in the shadow of the ecumenopolis. She bore the scars of a hundred battles, her armor blackened and scorched, her frame rebuilt and stitched together like the corpse that now commanded her. Once the flagship of Darth Caelitus, the Prophet had returned to the hands of the Church of the Dark Side, reborn now just as her new master had been.

Admiral Aldo Garrick stood at the prow of the bridge, unmoving.

His face, pale and sunken, eyes gaunt and glazed over, stared out at the stars with an obsidian-hemmed uniform. Half-regalia, half-funeral garb, the soft hiss of respirators kept the Imperial barely tethered to life, though some whispered he no longer required breath at all. A metallic spine jutted from beneath the back of his collar, a crude resurrection apparatus of Sith design that pulsed with every breath. Whatever remained of the man had long since died in the final battles of the Second Great Hyperspace War.

He was no longer a man.

He was an echo. A revenant. A servant of the Sith'ari returned by unnatural means.

Behind him, the Imperial-III class Star Destroyers of the Vehemence Line came into formation. TIE Interceptors and upgraded TIE Reapers howled as they emerged from launch bays, forming aggressive flanks on both sides of the Prophet, already moving to intercept approaching Alliance craft. A comms chime broke the silence behind him. One of the bridge captains; a young, resolute, perhaps too brave for his own good, stepped forward and bowed stiffly.

"Admiral Garrick, all squadrons report launch. The auxiliaries are assuming their positions at the head. Remaining assets await your word for final deployment."

A beat.

The corpse's hand, pale and leathery, raised slowly, gesturing toward the holo-display beside him. The system lit up, mapping the upper hemisphere of Coruscant's orbital envelope. A graveled, desiccated voice rasped from deep within the admiral's withered lungs.

"Hold the line. Await my order."

He dragged his bony finger through the starfield projection, a line forming across the key assault vectors. The formation was defensive, as by design. They were the anvil, the hammer would come soon enough. As the bridge returned to motion, the Admiral did not speak again. He simply stood there, watching. Waiting. Eyes glazed over like a man staring through the veil into something far worse than death, his right hand raised in gesture signalling to his captain. Within seconds a holo-channel would open to Remus Adair .

"We have assumed our positions. What is your status?"

 

[Darth Apophion]

Objective: King of the Hill

Poisoned Skies. The smoke of thousands of engines and the flames of war. Before him, the Jedi Temple. Bleached almost white, the bones of a dead god too proud to collapse. Its spires pierced the polluted heavens above, defiant against those who had come to issue their Judgement.

Darth Apophion crossed the plaza alone. The wind curled around him, bringing the smell of smoke and battle like a dying candle.

The Sith had dreamed of this moment. When his family's bones were burned on Begeren at the hands of the Ashla. He could see its polished floors, decorated halls, and bustling chambers all smoldering in ruin. The threads of memory fluttered through his mind in a fleeting moment. Of those lost to war when the Ashlan Crusade came to Begeren.

But there was no wrath. No endless anger. No thrill for the battle or the hunt.

Only Silence and Sorrow.

Was it the knowledge that he was just another victim in the Schism Eternal? A conflict that spans the whole of time, a wound that never closed. Was he just another who falsely believed he could break free from this hollow cycle? Was there anything left but to bear the ashes of broken linages, the last to remember them?

A Sentinel of Ashen Faith. He would accept his burden unflinchingly. He had sworn he would return vengeance for what was taken. He had sworn the Jedi would weep as he had wept, that the architects of his pain would know the same ruin. But as the grand doors of the Temple parted before him with a long groan of old machinery, no satisfaction rose in his chest.

Like a penitent one, he passed through the great doors of the temple, soon to be a mausoleum. Blades clashed in desperate arcs, and the screams of the dying echoed like wails of the condemned. The arches were chipped and scorched while statues lay smashed upon the floor. Apophion gazed upon them and felt no pity.

Slowly and somberly, he unhooked his lightsaber from his belt. It came to life in brilliant Vermillion light.

As he advanced through the temple, a Jedi Knight rose to meet him. Her green saber flashing, her eyes filled with determination. The sound of clashing blades followed. Once, twice, but on the third, she faltered. His blade drove straight through the heart. Her cry filled the chamber, and he could hear it along with cries of padawans, Jedi, and the distant sound of battle. He could hear Begeren amongst all of it, and he knew the silence that would follow when it was over.

 

[Meliant]

New Jedi Temple - Coruscant​

Objective: Housekeeping

The next 'pod', as it happened, were already dead. Meliant had already forgotten if the battle had even been interesting. Four temple guardians. Nobody special, nobody named, nobody worth remembering. Shallow cuts along their armor. Their masks had been peeled off, revealing faces that had been mummified all too quickly. Three men and a woman. All humans or near. Everyone was a human these days.​

​

Meliant was kneeling in the middle of them as if in a stupor. All the pain and misery of a dying ecumenopolis was flowing into this place, drawn in by the nexus at the heart of the temple - the one swiftly being tainted by the rising death toll. Darker, yet darker. There was nothing like it. Not in all the dusty mausoleums and crypt-vaults of his homeworld was there anything that could satiate him like this place, at this exact moment in time.​

​

And on top of it all, the presence of Ibaris Varanin burned in the back of his mind... It was a little too much. He needed a moment. He was getting caught up in all this. He didn't even remember getting into the temple...​

​

The shadows stirred. His visor turned slowly to where Zaavik was creeping along.​

​

"Ah. It's the rescue... And no Tayiji?" Meliant stood, swaying slightly - serpentine, almost. "Look at that. Lost half your limbs and you managed to beat him here. Ha, ha..."​

​

He touched a hand to his visor as if to steady himself.​

​

"The nexus is close at hand. We should be there... When it rots."​

Zaavik Perl Tayiji Drystan Creed Allyson Locke​

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Objective 1: Rescue Younglings
Location: Coruscant, Room of A Thousand Fountains
Gear: Lightsaber, Jedi robes, standard commlink
Tags: Ibaris Varanin Valery Noble Aris Noble Tigris Aphra | Closed

Xuko tensed as he made out the sound of feet approaching, only for his heart to sink as a familiar- and unwelcome- figure appeared; Aris' arrival unintentionally coinciding with onset of the Sith Battle Meditation. It pulled on his feelings of jealousy toward his fellow Padawan; at Aris' popularity, the insufferable way he always tried to take charge, and most of all the favoritism from the Grandmaster... who also happened to be Aris' mother.

The thought of joining up with Aris- who would most certainly receive all the credit- weighed on Xuko, and for a long moment the Zabrak thought about turning down the offer of help. This rescue mission he could do by himself. This he could do without assistance, or being told he wasn't ready yet.

Then a reply from Grandmaster Noble, supported by her own Battle Meditation, buoyed him just enough to see the foolishness of that idea. Like it or not- and Xuko certainly did not like the idea of teaming with Aris- the younglings in his charge stood a better chance of survival with another lightsaber between them and any enemies. That, and the ears that Xuko had daydreamed about boxing had heard another group of younglings nearby; that must be the yellow group. Xuko couldn't hear the other younglings, but the sounds of combat were getting louder.

"Very well" Xuko replied, ignoring how the four younglings flocked over to Aris; seeking refuge as if hiding under a tree during a rainstorm. "Grandmaster Noble suggests that we use the access tunnels." This was where Xuko really wished that Klar was here; if anyone knew where the tunnels were, it would be her.

"Which direction do you hear the others?"