Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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


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TAGS
Gideon Voss Gideon Voss
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HOW LIBERTY DIES


TEARS OF BLACK TAR - 4
APPROACHING THE NEW-JEDI TEMPLE,
CORUSCANT, DEEP CORE TERRITORIES (902 ABY)


'AAAAUUUUUUURGH!!!!'
'Get away from me, freak. Get away! NOOOOOOOO-'
As Gowrie's black-tar Tethers made their way towards the Jedi temple, clearing every street along the way, no matter how long it took, they would see and hear all the horrors unleashed by their marioneteer, passing it by with dead-eyed, cold apathy. Granted, the advancing Imperials were largely ignored for all who stank of Light Midichlorians, and though some had run afoul of the undead, the vast majority of the targeted soldiers on the ground belonged to the GADF; some would be killed by the weapons the undead still wielded, others dragged to sewer-like depths to be devoured, but most would be jumped on the spot for the sole purpose of spreading the virus.

Turning the dead on the ones who failed them.

'No, no! No, get off! WHY M-'
'HEEEEUUUUUURRRRGH!!!!'

After the first few streets, the Tethers' weapons would gradually draw into the realm of redundancy, seeing for themselves how the spread of undead infection gradually quickened as it covered more ground, gaining a momentum of it's own whilst the planet's existential struggle progressed. The slugthrowers the Tethers wielded were still shouldered, and though caution's necessity was lessened for beings of near-spectral nature, all five would keep index-fingers at the ready, maintaining what little vigilance remained.

Dancing with the trigger from discipline-to-greenlit, and with eyes checking all corners in case any unwelcome presence popped up as they advanced, but eventually, and though the stocks of their slugthrowers remained attached to their respective firing shoulders, all eyes would eventually drift to the backdrop. Seemingly quite willing to await the arrival of their marioneteer, (or at least, for long enough for Gowrie to approach within sight of his Tethers) no risk seemed great enough that it warranted readiness, and certainly not enough to distract them from listless, serene curiosity, a silence that persisted amid screams, shockwaves and skyline flashes from the orbital-defence shield.

'Beautiful, is it not?'

Both marioneteers had arrived to their advance-party's perch, but when Gowrie's subordinates turned their heads, no orders would meet their fleshless, skeletal eye-sockets, not this time. Only a smirking, distracted adherence to the bliss of wordless calm, darting hither and yon between the Tethers and the shuddering flashes of the sky under pressure, and within seconds, all gazes would return to a collective state of transfixation. Watching as shredded, burning remnants of Coruscant's civilian fleet fizzled and sputtered into dust, marvelling the effect the planet's orbital-shielding had on the wreckages, and just like before, still awestruck by the strobing effect of the shielding as generated power surged to each and every point of contact.

Staring to the skies, unspoken in meditative bliss - and all whilst the screams and stray blaster-shots gradually faded eastward.



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

Talon Draven Talon Draven | Voldran Molf Voldran Molf | Kaleb Sunwalker Kaleb Sunwalker | Darth Bellum Darth Bellum

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Khronas staggered out of the Temple hangar, running his bloodied hand along the course walls of the tunnels to guide himself. His torn cloak was wrapped around his head, encasing his badly burned cranium in thick black cloth. The improvised bandage obscured his lidless eyes, not that it mattered - the damage from the plasma torch Klar Klar had used on him had rendered the Dark Jedi blinded. Using the Force and his memorised floor plan of the temple, he slowly made his way deeper beneath the New Jedi Temple.

While blinded, he could still feel the chaos raging around him. The streets of Coruscant ran red with Jedi blood while the civilian defence fleet in orbit was torn to shreds by the Empire’s fleets. Dark currents were engulfing the profane world, corrupting the heart of the Galactic Alliance. The righteous words of Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis , broadcasting from the former Senate rotunda, echoed from vidscreens damaged in the fighting. He sensed a Jedi lurking nearby, Xuko Pagoi Xuko Pagoi , unaware the Padawan was looking for Klar.

Khronas joined his peers and gingerly lowered himself into a kneeling position around the Force nexus. He dropped into a meditative trance, the agony of his badly burned face requiring more focus than usual. His ur-Kittât incantations joined the voices of the other Dark Side Elite, the glowpanels in the chamber seeming to dim under the oppressive darkness that engulfed the room.

Through his mind’s eye he could see the threads of time wrapped around the Force nexus, the focus on their combined efforts. Voldran Molf had already cracked the seal of the vergence, exposing it to the Dark Side. Now it was a matter of corrupting the artefact. The Siniteen sat motionless, waiting for the exact moment to strike. Time started to lose all meaning; the deeper he sank, the deeper he came to the cosmic rhythm. Seconds, hours and years passed in a heartbeat.

One of the threads intersected with the Nexus. Without hesitating, Khronas launched a mental strike against the artefact. The attack was not a blunt show of force, but a surgical attack that pierced deep into the powerful object. He waited, studying the lines of fate that bound the galaxy and its inhabitants together. He struck again as another thread aligned with the Nexus.

“It has seen its destiny,” Khronas mused, feeling the Nexus trying to resist the onslaught of Dark Side energy. “It knows that the time has come, time to serve the Sith'ari.”

He continued his attacks, striking at the Focus nexus when the threads of time were perfectly aligned. It would not be long until the vergence, like Coruscant, bowed to the will of the Dark Side Elite.

 


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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery felt her knees press harder into the rooftop as the battle below raged on, but the trembling in her arms began to ease when she felt Corin Kaze Corin Kaze kneel beside her.

Her tired eyes shifted, catching the movement through the blur of sweat stinging her lashes. He spoke with honesty, and she felt the swell of his power as it joined with hers. His presence folded into the weave she had been desperately trying to hold together, and the light that carried through him strengthened her fraying threads.

She inhaled sharply, shoulders lifting with the breath as she reached deeper, further than before. Through the chaos of the mindscape, another connection flickered. That of Magdalena Bloodscrawl Magdalena Bloodscrawl . She felt the old master's power, cutting through the storm that pressed against her from all sides. It brought her focus back, steadied her, and together their presences braided tighter against the dark currents clawing at the Temple and Senate alike.

Then something else moved through her. It was different, yet familiar. Her heart clenched the instant she felt it, and her jaw trembled.

Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor .

He was gone, and yet he was here, a presence she knew to the core of her soul. She felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder that was not physical but so achingly real, and she tilted her head ever so slightly as if to lean into it. The warmth he carried, the strength he had always given so freely, poured into her like a river breaking through a dam. A fallen friend, not watching from afar but standing with her again.

A tear cut through the dirt on her cheek, but she did not falter.

She closed her eyes and let their strength flow through her, weaving Corin's resolve, Magdalena's brilliance, and Caltin's boundless light into her own. She let it build within her chest until she felt it ache with the pressure, and then she let it go. Her voice was soft but carried on the currents of the Force, touching every ally still standing, soldier or Jedi alike.

"Hold to the light. You are not alone."

The energy swelled outward from her like a tide, not a single strike but a vast and steady pulse. Where it reached, the haze of darkness began to thin. The whispers and claws of those pressing on their minds weakened, replaced by a rush of calm, a surge of hope. For a heartbeat, the nexus beneath the Temple flared with the brilliance of that shared strength, and the battlefield shifted ever so slightly.

Valery remained still, her hands planted firmly on her knees, but her back straightened as she drew in another breath. The strain was still there, but she no longer bore it alone.

And through her strength, she let the Light shine down upon Coruscant like the sun.





Valery is open to be targeted by GE

Jedi Temple
Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Fighting at the temple's steps
Jonyna SiFighting at the temple's steps
Balun DashiellFighting at the temple's steps
Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania Defending the Biodome
Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka Defending the Archives
Everest Vale Everest Vale Defending the Jedi Temple
Xuko Pagoi Xuko Pagoi Aris Noble Tigris AphraSearching for Jedi younglings
Rikuan Rikuan Defending the Temple
Taam Moghul Taam Moghul Defending the Jedi Temple
Vaegon Dolmyrian Vaegon Dolmyrian Defending the Temple
Kell MasaaraOffering aid on Coruscant
Senate Building
Ran SerysDefending the Senate building
RenDefending the Senate building
Katherine HoltDefending the Senate Building

 
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HIGH COUNCIL TOWER
NEW JEDI TEMPLE
Koda Fett Koda Fett


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Master Zark slumped from the bounty hunter's shoulder wearily into his council seat and pointed to a nearby dataport.

"I just...need a moment," he lied, "to catch...my breath."

Carrying him from the archives purged burning lungs of yossubi gas. Little did Koda Fett know that the bloodsoaked hand clutching Zark's ruined chest was slowly healing his most grievous wounds. Ragged breaths echoed strangely off cortosis. It almost seemed peaceful up here. Most of the fighting was still confined to the temple's lower levels.

"Let me...remove my mask," the Jedi slowly raised his hands coughing, "I wish to...look upon the man who bested me...with my own eyes."

Zark unsealed the ceremonial veil, but instead of a tired old man pure light poured out from underneath his hood. Bright enough to overwhelm even a tactical visor momentarily. In this moment he thought of Braze Braze and the final lesson he'd tried to teach about the value of life. Violence was a Jedi's final option.

But sometimes it was necessary.

Moving faster than a dying man should be able to the Jedi Master leaped from his chair and charged the bounty hunter. If he managed to catch Koda by surprise their combined momentum would send them both through the glass and over the side of the Jedi's highest tower.
 

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BOUNTY HUNTER - JEDI ARCHIVES


As far from the chaos of battle one still inside the Jedi Temple could be, it did seem quite calm. It still rumbled from cannon fire, smelled of carbon scoring and the like, but the gasping screams of dying terror were too far to hear. So indulging a beaten man may well have not been of any harm. Though Fett held his blaster carbine, it hung in his grip idly beside him - concentrating on his scores, thinking on how to make do with a third, even a fourth.​
A greedy thing.​
"Go on," his voice thick with impatience.​
Then, the blinding light. It was beyond the advances of technology, bypassing all the systems and devices integrated into his helmet's visor. As if a light so bright, never before shone, bore into the very fabric of him. His helmeted head jerked back as a grunt escaped him, his body contorting as if to escape it. Blindly, the blaster went off and struck at nothing.​
The Jedi Master leapt into the air and Fett was swift to act with his robotic precision, a cable extended and aimed for Zark. To ensnare him, wrap him up and leave them tied up on the floor. That robotic precision, this time, needed some new calibrations. It struck the chair Zark sat in, embedding itself into it. Zark crashed into the Mandalorian and the two sailed into the air, towards the window. On impact, the glass shattered to pieces with their armoured forms tumbling down to the surface below. But, there was a sudden jerk as the two stopped, hanging with the council seat at the window and the cable from Koda's wrist connecting them.​
A scuffle ensued, Zark clinging to Fett as each could only hurl one fist at each other. His jetpack out of commission from the earlier slice from Zark's lightsaber. Their movement, rocking back and forth well above a raging battlefield, was enough to move the chair. It lifted up and over, coming down with them.​
Their brawl continued on the tumble towards the streets of Coruscant, one fist after another. Though connected to the chair, the added weight tore him around. Guiding himself, trying to position, it seemed worthless. More so when the sloped architecture rose up to meet them. The man in Mandalorian armour took the brunt of it, Zark mostly landing on top of him as the two rolled, and rolled, and rolled until coming to a stop on a higher ledge. The chair sent sailing off the ledge.​
His attempt to rise was full of slow, sluggish movements tinged through with grunts and groans. He only made it so far as to make it to his hands and knees, exhausted and hurting.​
 
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Coruscant
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Tag: Rannan Kol Rannan Kol Vaegon Dolmyrian Vaegon Dolmyrian

Vera dragged in a long breath through her teeth, the sound sharp as she forced air back into her lungs. The pressure in her mind had lessened, and with it came a surge of relief so strong her shoulders shook. Her eyes lifted to Vaegon's form through the shimmering firelight, and for a moment she just stared, grounding herself in the sight of him standing firm.

"He's… trying to break my mind," Vera said, voice hoarse and uneven, but steady enough to reach him. She wiped the back of her hand over her face, smearing soot and tears, and forced her fingers to tighten again on her saber hilt. With a snap-hiss the emerald blade sprang to life, its glow washing over her hands as she rose from the floor on unsteady legs.

The world still wavered at the edges, shapes bending and twisting as the lingering effects of Rannan's presence clawed at her perception, but she gritted her teeth and held her focus on her target.

Her free hand lifted, fingers splayed as she pushed through the last tremor in her arm. Another rune flared into being near Rannan's feet, etching itself in light over stone and metal alike. Its glow deepened to a verdant green, and from the burning lines vines burst forth, thick and fast, slithering over the ground with unnatural speed to try and coil and snare at his legs.

A faint, grim smile touched her lips despite the strain, and her voice came low but firm. "Let's see how you like this one."

It was a trick she had adapted from Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania 's teachings, honed and bound into her runes, and now she sent it surging forward with all the stubborn defiance left in her.

Hopefully, to offer Vaegon a better chance to strike.



 




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


Artam had killed people before.

He had killed many, in fact- operating a Starfighter, he had faced the enemies of the Empire had come out victorious prior to Coruscant. He had witnessed and conducted operations in the grandest of scales, to the smallest. From operating as a lone aircraft to operating like he was now, one of thousands.

But-

Artam had never witnessed such a wholesale slaughter, a waste of life. It sickened him. The Alliance, in their cowardice, in their sheer desperation, their hubris maybe even- either forced, lied, or coerced these civilian freighters, ships, and pilots into the stars above Coruscant. And as the Turbolasers fired, the batteries of their massive warships cascaded into their foes, ripping apart the enemy's pitiful reinforcements-

Artam felt sickened.

There was no honor in the Alliance. There was no glory in their struggle. He used to, as many pilots do- respect the enemy to a degree. It was customary, almost, to respect your enemy as a pilot more than hate them. But now, the Alliance, sent these people to their deaths. To their doom. Their civilian fleet was being ripped apart- a hopeless chance, even in their sheer numbers. Like stones against iron, nothing was accomplished but the death of those that did not need to fight the Alliance's war.

The Empire would correct this. Artam had to believe this. The Alliance was corruption personified- with what Artam thought they were corrupt with money and morals, they were corrupt and callous with lives as well. Their wanton display of cowardice drove him- it had to. There had to be another option. Not the Sith, not the Alliance. Strong, true peace through victory.

Thus-

Artam turned the throttle. His TIE fighter rolled, screeching that terrifying sound across the bow of an Alliance corvette- and lasering an attack wing of X-wings, who were sent spiraling into the cold darkness of space. Civilian ships fired at him, going wide in their attempt. He banked hard right, skirting around the tower of the Corvette, point-defense laser fire kicking around him, screaming for his death but finding no purchase. He turned his head, firing on the civilian ships that were coming at him in a singular attack axis. No banks, no turns, no break-offs. They were untrained, untested, and outmatched.

One, two, three, four, five ships.

Five ships with more likely a full crew, if not more, dead in the void.

Artam felt a twinge of guilt- but was replaced with hate for the Alliance. They were sending mosquitos to kill a bull. A fruitless, hopeless endeavor.



 
Kai'el Brat "Guardian of the Light"






TAGS: Sid Berik Sid Berik | DT-1966 DT-1966 | DT-7747 DT-7747 | Abraxas Colt Abraxas Colt | Veno Veno
//incoming

OPEN
Open to being
targeted by GE & GA

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DT-1966 (Post 1)DT-1966 (Post 1)
DT-7747 (Post 1)DT-7747 (Post 1)
Sid Berik (Post 1)Sid Berik (Post 1)
Abraxas Colt (Post 1)Abraxas Colt (Post 1)
Veno (Post 1)Veno (Post 1)
DT-7747 (Post 2)DT-7747 (Post 2)
Veno (Post 2)Veno (Post 2)
DT-1966 (Post 2)DT-1966 (Post 2)
Sid Berik (Post 2)Sid Berik (Post 2)
DT-7747 (Post 3)DT-7747 (Post 3)
Sid Berik (Post 3)Sid Berik (Post 3)
Veno (Post 3)Veno (Post 3)
DT-1966 (Post 3)DT-1966 (Post 3)
DT-7747 (Post 4)DT-7747 (Post 4)
Sid Berik (Post 4)Sid Berik (Post 4)
Veno (Post 4)Veno (Post 4)


Protocol Obedience:
"Loyalty buried in ash."
Forged / Stolen Credentials: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el | Nos Voros | Bernard
Objective/s: Execute hidden directive [Betrayal] | Take down The Planetary Shields. Escape.
Location: Upper Levels of Coruscant





War was chaos... and Braze intended to use that chaos to his advantage. The rendezvous point was meaningless if they couldn't get off-planet, and from what he could tell, the planetary shields were still up. But time was running thin....

He didn't want to think about what Loomi Loomi would say when she woke. He didn't want to face the consequences of what he'd done to Ko Vuto Ko Vuto , having maimed him, having severed his brother's arm.

And most of all... he didn't want to imagine the look on Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el 's face. He could already picture the look, and feel the disappointment.

But the war didn't pause for guilt. The least he could do was fire off a message to make sure they were okay... a vague request for medical aid sent through just a ping requesting medical aid with coordinates, marking the others' last known positions.

He ran as hard and as fast, as his legs could carry him. His muscles ached, burning hot as he pushed himself harder, almost as if the sheer momentum could outrun the weight of everything crashing down around him. He had to reach the Control Spire.

Buried deep in the upper levels of Coruscant's industrial sector, hidden beneath a long-abandoned skyhook junction, the Spire was a forgotten relic of a bygone war. It had once been part of the planetary defense grid, secretly reactivated to reinforce the planet's shield network.

Official records claimed it was decommissioned, however, Braze knew better. Those false reports were a convenient lie to cover up the truth and hide a vulnerability away, and he knew it was their only shot of getting off world.

They didn't need long... just enough time to disable the grid, reach the rendezvous point with Okuma Milogen Okuma Milogen , and get off-world before someone realized what happened and came looking.

His lungs burned, and his body ached whilst his eyes stung from hot tears accompanied by the flood of emotion that welled up within his chest. His heart felt like it had sunk into a bottomless pit, swallowed by a sense of despair he couldn't afford to address.

There were no official maps to guide him to the Spire. It just didn't exist on any public maps. But Braze had traced its footprint the old-fashioned way, following the thick arterial runs of power cables and buried conduits, hunting the routes where energy bled into the district's hidden systems.

It led him through a decaying tangle of maintenance access and half-collapsed industrial corridors, leading through a forgotten substation wedged between skyhook pylons and aging fusion stacks.

He vaulted a broken railing, hitting the opposite wall with his boots before twisting midair and dropping into a service chute. Sparks flared around him as his shoulder clipped a low-hanging conduit, but he kept moving, fast and low, weaving through steel beams and slagged control panels, driven by adrenaline pushing on wards as the Force surged through his limbs, feeding speed into every stride, and pushing strength through his muscles. He bounded up the side of a ventilation stack, hands slamming onto a girder, body twisting over it without slowing.

He couldn't afford to slow down, knowing the time frame and how precious every second was as it slipped past him. His breathing stayed ragged, and sweat drenched through his tunics, chafing beneath the armor with every motion. His muscles trembled from overuse as he pushed harder still, exhaustion teetering at the edge of his consciousness, shaky legs threatening to collapse beneath him.

The Force caught him, lifting him through the exhaustion, dulling the ache as raw emotion fed into his will, giving him just enough to keep going... He didn't know who else might already be there. He didn't realize he was set to incidentally end up running headfirst into an Imperial kill team.


◆ Equipment Loadout



◆ Head & Neck
Lightveil Circlet
Iroai Amulate

◆ Outerwear
Phantom Mist Projector

◆ Arm Equipment
• Right Arm: Saber-Claws Gauntlet
• Left Arm: Saberbreaker Gauntlet

◆ Armor (Integrated)
Light Armor
Boots
Gauntlets
Mask/Helm Mask/Helm

◆ Belt
FFS Utility Belt

◆ Weapons
Mysterious Lightsaber
G.O.O. Gun
Training Lightsaber
Utility Knife
E.G.G.S. x10
Thermal Detonator (Class-A) x5

◆ Left Hand Accessories
Compass Ring
BCA - Solid State Hologram Tool Band

◆ Medical & Consumables
FSP - Besh (Force Suppression Drug)
Trauma Spray
Aspha Serum
Reanimation Serum Aurek
Bota M9-A2 (Berries)
• 5 lbs Bag of Thermite
Vixen's Vault

◆ Companion
Gidgit

◆ Starships
Ashwing - Starfighter
Phantomray Stealth Assault Interceptor
  ↳ Fitted with: Werlaara Stealth Suite




 
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Location: Temple Nexus/Shrine in the Depths
DSE Team/Allies: Voldran Molf Voldran Molf Talon Draven Talon Draven Darth Bellum Darth Bellum
New Jedi Order close by: Alexandra Feanor Alexandra Feanor Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania
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He could feel the Nexus cry out, the seal eroding underneath the very strength of the darkness that threatened to breathe new life into the beast kept at bay for thousands of years, now it was time to let that beast out of its chains for good. Kaleb let his mind join with the likes of Talon, and Voldran. The trio once individual had now joined in both spirit and power. What had once been separate had now become one. The Force flowed freely like a wellspring, the dimming light of the nexus overtaken by the rising power shared amongst the three. His eyes glanced first to Voldran who thrived in the darkness the smoke demon who began the ritual focused intently on Nexus seal trying to break it. Talon would reinforce it, not wishing to keep the Nexus sealed or abused for its power like the Jedi, but to unseal what has been unfairly locked away for so long.

Drawing upon the dark side, Kaleb watched as the chants of Urr-Kittat caused the red glyphs of Sith writings to to drip blood red along the walls, droplets of crimson dripped downwards, while the red accents started to cover the surrounding chamber in an eerie red glow. He could feel the ground rumble beneath his feet, the dark side sealed for so long was awakening with a vengeance, he could hear the light side seal let out more of its agonized cries. His darkened eyes narrowed watching the once white color of the seal blacken and decay from the energy pouring through it. It wasn’t just fear, anger, hatred, but suffering acted as the pinprick that was going to crack the seal open. Through the Nexus, did the Elite feel all life flow through Coruscant and in return could feel an outpouring of death unlike any other.

The deaths of innocents, hundreds of innocents in the skies above was a crucial catalyst. With a mad smirk across the Dark Siders face, he began to use the mass death as a conduit itself. Pouring immense suffering into the Nexus where it was unbearable. Slowly, the seal once so bright and stalwart was now faltering, decaying, cracking underneath the weight of so much death. If one listened closely amidst the loud chants, one could hear something banging against the Nexus seal, the dark side millennia before was begging to be released at last. Answering the offering of death, the offering of innocents as a way for the darkness to become fully rejuvenated under the combined power of the three that chanted louder and louder.

Then he could feel it. The revulsion of the Light Side rearing its ugly head, for he sensed various presences close in all around him. The Jedi had finally caught wind of what the Elite had gotten themselves into. What happened throughout the Temple, all of it was merely a distraction away from the true goal of the Elite. Gritting his teeth angrily, even now he could feel sparks of the Light try to breakthrough the abyss of shadows the Elite created, only for it to further spread. His fists clenched so tightly, he focused all of his energy into the meld, into the joining with his brothers in darkness to end the lies, end the deceptions created by the Jedi so long ago. What was kept hidden in the dark would finally be brought out into the open, even as the light worked to battle against the encroaching darkness, it wouldn’t be enough.

Another mind joined with them. Khronas Khronas melded with three, the dark side flowed freely through them. The four reached out and extended their will towards the crumbling Nexus point. Agonized screams mixed into the furious crescendo of Urr-Kittat rising in the chamber. The emptiness had nearly surrounded all four, with the dark aura of a Sith Lord seeking to further bolster the efforts. If that wasn’t enough was the renewal of energy brought forth by Prowler II Prowler II who encouraged the four, for his dark side energy reflected that of a proton torpedo, but when the full might of the Emperor Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis came to the Elite, he was a turbolaser blast sent right for them.

The power of the Emperor was the counterbalance needed to fight back against the Jedi, for before the Emperor he could sense the Light try and smother the darkness, try to blind them all one by one. He could sense the Jedi Grandmaster and her Jedi try to reach out, try to stop them. But the Emperor emboldened the conduit shared between the Elite and the Nexus. Slowly, Kaleb began to rise, his skin a sickly pale with his veins apparent, his dark hair slightly grayed. The combined powers of Prowler, of Solipsis sent an influx of dark side energy coursing through his veins, so much power that even as he stood he struggled to distribute that power throughout the meld.

While the efforts of the Jedi Grandmaster Valery Noble Valery Noble felt like a solar flare from a bright sun, Solipsis on the other hand felt as if a black hole never ending, Solipsis resembling a dark void that was eternal, ever lasting. His body shook slightly, his hands outstretched. The never ending void, the meld of the Elite was like liquid fire that felt invincible.

His eyes flashed brightly, drawing upon Solipsis, Prowler, the combined meld of of his brothers flowed through him. The conduit stretched out, pouring everything into the cracks of the seal. Kaleb’s eyes would flashed brightly, bright yellow. Opening himself fully to the dark side, he felt all of it try to eat at his own life force. His eyes glowed a furious yellow, Sith eyes not seen in a long time as the fallen Jedi felt swallowed up by the darkness of the void. His voice began to rise.

“Bend and break….”

“Bend and break!!!”

“BEND AND BREAK!!!”

He would shout loudly in Urr-Kittat. His voice sounded different, something else entirely. The power of both the meld and the Emperor all became too much, even as Kaleb tried to harness it, he felt lost within the void. His hands outstretched, his left was pointing along the tunnel outside the door, the right hand was high in the air, fingers extended to move upward. His yellowed gaze narrowed once more, as he continued to shout towards the Nexus.

The cracks gave in. In a matter of seconds the Nexus point broke apart. Using the Force with his outstretched hands, he worked to guide the shadows hidden underneath. Then it rushed out. Thousands of years of trapped dark side energy was rushing out. With the use of his hands and the Force, waves of darkness kept trapped was now shooting out from the Nexus point like a geyser. The shadows spreading out through the room, and guided by Kaleb’s hand would shoot to the top of the sacred spire, and flow freely around his brothers, spreading out from the confines of the Nexus chamber, and reaching out into every space soon to breech the surface of the Temple. The darkness kept trapped for so long would be now free to eclipse the light.

 
Chief of Naval Engineering Div. - GAL
TAG: Prael'rs'akinc Prael'rs'akinc | Remus Adair Remus Adair | Amelia von Sorenn Amelia von Sorenn | Magdalena Bloodscrawl Magdalena Bloodscrawl | Mykel Dawson Mykel Dawson | Aldo Garrick Aldo Garrick | Domaric Mordane Domaric Mordane

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Scene: “The Sky Burns, and Still We Rise”
Location: ANS Indomitable, High Orbit Over Coruscant
Time: +25 Minutes Since Reversion to Realspace

The storm had come.
It bled from every side of the battlespace—Vexation’s gravity maelstrom ripping starships from their lanes; Garrick’s autocannons flaying the outer rims of the incoming civilian fleet; old Mawite destroyers flanking under the Prophet’s shadow; and every Imperial-III now pouring turbolaser fire into the teeth of the 10th Sector.
And the Indomitable stood in the dead center of it all.
Shields flared red as dozens of plasma bolts slammed into her forward bulwarks. Her ventral hull sizzled from the glancing lances of the Prophet’s long-range fire. Flak rounds detonated around the hangar wings as swarm torpedoes closed from the flanks.
She rocked. But she did not yield.
“Midship shielding at 47%. Starboard ion capacitors recycling. Minor breaches in decks seventy through seventy-two.”
The bridge was an orchestra of hell. Smoke filtered through the air returns. Ember sparks fell like fireflies from the overhead panels. Crew stumbled—and stayed at their stations.
At the center of it, Fleet Captain Gym Halpern stood like a monolith, one hand gripping the safety rail as the deck pitched beneath him. He didn’t flinch as the lights flickered again. His voice didn’t rise.
Begin burn. Forty-five degree incline. Put our portside to the Prophet’s flank. Give our bombers a hole to dive through.

THE TURNING BLADE
The Indomitable banked hard, shedding off another barrage of direct fire as her upper decks turned toward Garrick’s line. Thunderstorm II Y-Wings, Tornado IIs, and Wolf-Xs poured from the hangars in vanguard formation—bombers in tight hammerheads, fighters sweeping ahead like wolves on scent.
“Command, this is Rogue Six—targeting Prophet’s secondary guns. Stealth-Ys vectoring on auto-cannons. Cover us!”
They struck like fury unleashed.
Stealth-Ys broke under radar, dropping seismic charges and magpulse torpedoes that aimed to cripple along the Prophet’s ventral plates. The hope is to take down and cause targeting sensors on the autocannons to began to fail. Whether they worked or not remained to be seen, but…
… but they have more bombs to drop.
Y-wings screamed through debris clouds, looping upward to strike again.
Fighter screens covered their tail, intercepting TIE formations mid-dive, these were not “Academy newbies” they were the best behind the stick, they wouldn't make it easy. The Prophet’s flak lit the skies red—but it was too late. The swarm was in.

THE WRATH OF THE LIVING
“Captain. Civilian signatures confirmed. They’re advancing… head-on.”


“We count freighters, salvage rigs, two old Baudo corvettes, and… sir, that’s a banking clan escort hauler. Retrofit for battle.”
The viewport filled with chaos—but through the fire came silhouettes. Old ships. Ugly ships. Beautiful ships. And determined.
Civilian craft—dozens of them—charging into the storm.
They emerged like myths reborn, running straight into the field of fire left by the Prophet and the Carnivore.
“They’re shielding the retreat lanes. Trying to block the Prophet’s arcs.”
The bridge went still for a breath.
Halpern stepped forward, eyes hard as stone.
“They’re not shielding the retreat.” A beat. “They’re fighting for their freedom. They’re fighting for their damn freedom!!!”

THE COUNTER-OFFENSIVE
He keyed the fleet channel.
All ships with operational batteries and remaining torpedoes, mark targets off my feed. Prioritize Prophet autocannons, Vexation’s gravity wells, and command vectors on the Carnivore. Follow our line!
Across the battlespace, Alliance cruisers—the Arrowhead, Vigilant Truth, Seressia, and more—moved.
The line reformed.
They poured fire into the Tactical Dept's projection of Prophet lines weakest points, and as one, several Foederati auxiliaries broke formation and accelerated to attempt ram the outer edge of the gravity well threatening the civilians.

They didn’t run.


They charged.

THE EMPIRE'S MISTAKE
From above, the Empire must have seen a moment of triumph. They had broken through. Encircled. Shattered formations. They were about to close the fist.
But fists can be broken.
And so the Empire struck at refugees and civilians… and the Alliance broke their lines instead.
On the Indomitable, shield capacitors burned white-hot. The crew rerouted coolant manually. Fire crews raced below decks. Yet the cannon bays stayed online. The hangars kept launching. And the hull—scarred, not breached.
“Wolf-Xs reporting kill ratio 4:1. They're taking losses, but flying like hell.”
“An Imp destroyer is out of action. Y-Wing squadron Six is requesting rearm for final pass.”
The Prophet was still standing. Garrick’s madness still held. But now, it stood against the tide.

THE PROMISE
Halpern watched one of the civilian ships—a converted passenger hauler—take a direct hit from an Imperial salvo. It broke in half, scattering debris and flame through the flank.
Another freighter peeled off to cover the gap.
Still another surged forward.
“Sir… these people are giving their lives. They’re not even trained for this.”
Halpern didn’t blink.
“No. But they know the stakes.”
He turned back to his officers, his voice low—but impossible not to hear.
“And so do we.”

TRANSMISSION: FLEET CAPTAIN GYM HALPERN – ANS INDOMITABLE
Encryption Level: None – Broadcast Wide
Time: +26 Minutes Since Reversion to Realspace
Origin: High Orbit, Coruscant
This is Fleet Captain Gym Halpern of the Galactic Alliance Defense Fleet.
To all civilian vessels currently engaging or maneuvering within the Coruscant battlespace—your presence is registered.
Your signal is received.
And your courage is undeniable.


[PAUSE – static hum of battle briefly cuts through]
The enemy has fired on your homes, your hospitals, your children. They call you terrorists. Unregistered combatants. They mark you for death because you chose to fight back.
Let them.
You are not alone. You are not unarmed. You are the steel backbone of every world they tried to enslave. You are the reminder that people will rise when tyrants strike. That freedom is not a gift—but a choice.


[PAUSE – audible bridge noise in the background, overlapping chatter]
To the captains in converted freighters: hold your course.
To the engineers in the engine bays, wrapping coolant lines with your bare hands: keep those reactors burning.
To every crew member who was never trained for war, but answered the call anyway: you are part of this fleet now. You fight under the same sky. You bleed for the same hope.

We will do everything in our power to protect you.
We will cut through the line they think is unbreakable.
And we will make them regret ever turning their guns on the innocent.


[Final beat – Halpern’s voice slows, but sharpens]
To the Imperial commanders targeting civilians—there will be no forgiveness.
We saw your barrage. We heard your cannons.
Now hear this: your reckoning has arrived!!!


[Comm static cuts—transmission ends]

Scene: "The Black Tide Turns"
Location: ANS Indomitable, High Orbit Over Coruscant
Time: +28 Minutes Since Reversion to Realspace

The moment the transmission ended, the only sound on the bridge was the low churn of engines and fire suppression systems whispering through vents.
The deck lights were still amber. Smoke still clung to the ceiling like a ghost too proud to leave. And yet, something had changed.
Not in here.
Out there.
“Sir… we’re getting open-band chatter. Other fleet elements. Multiple Alliance vessels responding.”
Tactical feeds began to light up, blinking yellow to green across the battlespace display. Each one marked with ship signatures, Alliance designations, and sudden course corrections.

I. THE CAPTAINS ANSWER
“This is GAV Pursuant Dawn. Adjusting bearing to shield civilian vessels. We’ll intercept Shadow Squadron flank.”
“Seressia to command—redirecting point-defense to cover transport egress lanes. No more stray shots.”
“This is Tempest Icon. Captain Melynn—confirming spinal alignment with Indomitable. Our gunners are awake now, sir.”
“Redspire, standing by. All torpedoes loaded. Following Halpern’s lead.”
Each captain’s voice carried the same weight: anger without panic, courage without bravado. Some were steady as durasteel. Others cracked beneath the weight of what they’d just seen—but none turned away.
“Sir… fleet elements are reorienting into defensive wedge. We’re the spearpoint.”
Halpern remained still, watching the holo. His lips moved without sound at first, a silent oath.
Then:
Then we pierce the heart.

II. THE PUSH
All hands: Action Stations. Navigation, begin forward thrust on vector 042 mark 7. Tactical, give us full spread—torpedoes first. Fire on my mark.
All squadrons: this is the Indomitable. The line is moving. Stick close, hit hard, don’t stop until the sky’s clear.

The ship lurched forward, burning straight through the debris field from the ruined Vexation’s escorts. Her prow glowed from radiation bleed. Plasma shrouds trailed behind her like the wings of a woken beast.
The Alliance fleet followed.
Pursuant Dawn flanked starboard. Redspire and Seressia moved in tight, ready to trade fire. Civilians fell in behind the wedge, shielded now not by hope alone—but by steel.

III. VENGEANCE IN FORMATION
“Enemy ships repositioning. Prophet autocannons tracking us again. Vindicator-class cruiser moving to intercept.”
“They think we’re charging blind,” said Commander Rho grimly.
Then let’s open their eyes.
The Indomitable’s forward batteries lit the void.
Quad-turbolasers screamed across the black. Concussion missiles launched from midship bays in staggered waves. A full volley of heavy ion torpedoes headed across the Prophet’s screening destroyers—to blind sensors, fry shielding, and expose her flanks. If it works, it works. If doesn't then it would get fun.
“Targeting scanners reacquired on Prophet. Recommend follow-through strike.”
Authorized.
Halpern’s hand came down.
And the line surged again.
Stealth-Ys and B-Wings cut across the Prophet’s top arc like scalpels. Y-Wings payloads of plasma charges ready to drop into exposed hangars. Tornados zooming in, intent to tear through TIE formations, leaving trails of shattered metal and superheated void.
One civilian tug—retrofit with torpedo tubes—fired a point-blank salvo into an Imperial corvette’s dorsal seam. The explosion was blinding. Its signature vanished from sensors in a flash… but who's civilian or Imperial?
The bridge lights flickered again, but no one flinched.
Indomitable to all ships, Halpern broadcast across Alliance secure frequencies. Push.
Bury them.
Make them remember.



(Done from my phone DM me if mistakes)
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P E N I T E N T
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
Battle Armor [MODIFIED] | Lightsaber

Taam Moghul Taam Moghul






GALACTIC CITY
902 ABY
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE

The burst of electric judgement and the explosive, concussive force of duracrete and shrapnel slamming into the Knight caused him to be thrown back, relaxing his body as both the crimson and emerald blade snapped into their hilts, his crushgaunt equipped grasp kept tight around both as he was slammed into a duracrete barrier. Channeling perhaps his most vaunted and prized ability, he controlled his pain through the force as if dulling a shrieking scream that enveloped his senses to a muffled and then dissipated whisper. His eyes screwed shut for a moment as he felt the bruised and broken flesh dulled down to nothing. He readjusted his grasp of both sabers, pressing his left hand which wielded the jedi's blade into the broken ground beneath, digging his knuckles beneath him as he slowly brought himself to his feet.

All the while, the Jedi was scaling the shattered hulk of a walker. He peered around as time slowed, his blue eyes set within bleeding, pale flesh sifted between his troopers, the chaos and the violent, destructive throes of war around him. He was nearing the breaking point, his force seeping into the very reserve and spittle of what was left of his power to draw here without intense introspection. But even still, the unbroken iron will of the Storm continued on in their valiant march. They were so close to the precipice before them as this venerable war of Empire and Democracy, Order and Chaos...and ultimately, Darkness and Light continued to rage within the pinnacle of the Galaxy's center. Coruscant had been the seat of power for millenia upon millenia. Twas he who govern this vaunted world would govern the Galaxy's fate. And Wymar, for all these years a ronin had found himself bloodying his blade in the service of the most vantablack, coldest darkness of them all.

And yet, that presence...a presence which was as persistent and powerful in death as it was in life remained with him. An ironclad trust and firm hand that was resolute in guiding him toward his ultimate ambition. To know that as taxing as this devilish tax was here, he would be vindicate in the next steps upon this path of segmented stones carefully carved from the darkest depths. His crimson blade was one alone among the charge toward this corridor of the temple, the fight here was handled by the Storm with Wymar less postured as the leader and more the hammer to crack the bulward of 'cloaks' like the Leonine who stood in a moment of respite atop the burnt and charred hulk, the smell of iron as heavy as the smell of fire and burnt metal.

"Join your men in the battle ahead of you. Abandon him to his feeling and he will snap back at you in rage. Do not let these Stormtroopers die so you can pursue the glory of the kill. Lead them...carve the way forward." The voice spoke into his thoughts and Wymar stood, his cloak tattered and shredded as it caught the war dogged winds and he lifted his left hand, igniting the emerald blade before he turned on his heel and vaulted himself unto the ramparts ahead. His crimson blade ignited all the same and he sliced both through an Alliance trooper, deflecting a burst from a gun position with a few deliberate sways and cuts of the blades before he pulled the trooper toward him and skewered him at the end of his blade. Grimm was rear of the advance, ensuring as many of his Stormtroopers made it unto the temple proper, set into cover and began pushing forward.

Wymar, all the while was at the tip of the spear now, charging with a deliberate and well honed disciplined push to snatch every inch from the Alliance, to press the advantage and deny the iniative, blocking blaster bolts for advancing troopers or jumping in to slice through the defiant defenders when they'd gotten into the thick of it. <"Keep pushing forward! Give them nothing!"> Grimm piped up before he aimed down the sights of his rifle, delivering a well placed burst into the head of an Alliance trooper who popped out of cover when the gun talking with Grimm's fell silent. A common and basic infantry practice to synchronize bursts of weapon systems to create a steady suppression of fire without spending the ammo packs of any one man.

After he'd cut through a squad's worth of them, he snapped his gaze back toward the Jedi, holding both arms out with an ignited saber in each, welcoming another attack as he honed in on the form of the Vornskr again, ready to channel his aggression into his own ability and lash it back at the Jedi.

 
"A Dramatic Force-Blessed Myth"
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OBJ: Protect Alexandra Feanor Alexandra Feanor
Allies: GA Forces
Enemies: Sithy Imperials (Notably, Darth Bellum Darth Bellum )
Loadout: Battlefield
Forces: 1x Squad of Zorren Soldiers from his personal royal guard (in the immediate area)

It was a common misconception. People saw a man with a lightsaber with a gold blade, even with the black core. They saw a man defending the jedi temple. They saw a man standing beside a jedi, ready to defend her with his last breath. They assumed he was a jedi. But as the darkness closed in, as Bellum tried to drown it out with the shadow, even as Alexandra channeled the light into the area, Vulpesen drank deeply from both. He was many things. Once upon a time, he had been a jedi. That was long ago.

The light and the dark filled him, unending passion and hatred of the death that this being caused, and the unyielding duty to protect life from such beasts as this lord of war. It was a battle between a creature of death and one who had pledged himself to the service of life, having even gone so far as to lead an Exodus from the netherworld itself.

"I don't believe in peace. Not so long as men like you exist."
Vulpesen's hand raised and he channeled the force through his palm. Indoors as they were, his normal tricks wouldn't do. No, for now, he would need to do something more direct, and far more practiced. Energy exploded from that raised palm, golden arcs of lightning arcing out from him like a reverse lightning rod to strike at the legionnaires and their master. Vulpesen's men would handle the blasters for him, at least in terms of protecting Alexandra. For any aimed at himself, Vulpesen knew he could trust the craftsmanship of those that had created his armor.
 

Alexandra Feanor

The Lady in Silver/Grey Historian
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Jedi Temple - Entrance
Enroute to Nexus Origin Point

Equipment:
Robes
Spear
Sabers


Alexandra's stillness continued after her hand had raised, as the light within bubbled out and she worked to steady her mind and being. To pull at the flow of the force and to drag along the light. Those memories of her daughter by her side, the two of them sitting infront of the tree that Alexandra tended to for so long. It left her to smile at such a pleasant thought, only to find the eyes of the Dark Lord on her. The Darth that pulled themselves from the Otherside and that stood before all the same as she had remembered.

It would draw her eyes to open, except, she had lost her sight. She had surrendered it when she had started this process, and in the place of her bright eyes Vulpesen and Bellum would see dull orbs that held no light to them. There was no sign that she could see and instead she looked through the force, through Vulpesen and Bellum to the Nexus. To the link to the Force and its two sides, the Light and the Dark struggling for control. She would continue to watch it, her head only moving when her gaze focused on Bellum in his connection to the death.
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The strands that flowed from the Will, twisted and corrupted by his very being. She could not stand but to look at the man with her own sadness finding her face. After all, the being was every a void, sucking into it the death and suffering of the souls that had been taken in this war, an entity that stood in stark contrast to her. She would simply stare with her mind working through such a being, working through what she had been placed before all while Vulpesen continued the war.

And yet that was not the end of it, their own darkness filling the very air around them, the light of the room seeming to dull just as her eyes had. She found herself hesitating on her breaths, as shallow and slow as they were in the state she had let herself fall into. But it wasn't fear, not of him, even as his presence fell over her like a suffocating void. Bellum's dark voice not being what drug her down, but instead it was his very connection and nature.

Her being clawed at a holding, threatening to fall into the tidal whirlpool, to be pulled into the vortex that had become the Nexus and Bellum. After all, her body, the binding to it, it had all been through the same rituals that these Sith were far too common with. Even now as she knelt there, Darth Bellum Darth Bellum , Kaleb Sunwalker Kaleb Sunwalker , Voldran Molf Voldran Molf and any others who looked on her through the force would see the ties to her body straining. It was as if she was being pulled back, back into the depths of the Netherworld thanks to the very presence of the Force Ghost turned corporeal demon.

And all the while her mind remained separated from her physical form, caught in the current and the rush of the many souls and the power of the dark collecting. Especially as Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis ' own power was added to this all, the rush pushing her down beneath the surface of the waves. Her body falling deeper into the spiral until she found herself falling. Her form tumbling, the unstable and shaking body crashing through glass like shards of darkness.

She was being pulled deeper down, each moment found her spiraling further and the scene reflected on her body. The skin around her eyes darkening, her veins showing the corruptive features that came with a rejected soul within a body. She slipped from the grasp of reality and her hands struggled to grab at the edge, her mind whirling from having let her being fall into the flow of the force.

It was a great void she was being pulled down into.
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The end waiting for her, waiting at the end of this fall. Her form being cut up and torn apart while the living body infront of Bellum and Vulpesen seemed to fall further and further into its own natural death with Alexandra's being getting trapped in this current. The separation of her soul, its being split in two and being so far from the other was already a struggle for her to hold onto, and this moment only made the whole experience that much harder.

Once more her thoughts going to those she loved so deeply, those she had sought to use as a connection before, but instead of simply reconnecting and once more finding the warmth in them it was a distant call. It was as if grasping upon a memory that you had long forgotten, out of reach but knowing that it was there. And the more she reached out, grasped the empty air for it in this void, the less she was able to.

Instead, she soon found her body curling up, closing around her core as it tumbled. Her being barely visible but it did not break.

Instead it floated, alone for that moment as it fell into the void of the souls and emotions that overwhelmed the flow of the force. Only a small light within herself struggling to stay lit, and a strand no thicker than that of a hair flowing away from her. To a far off place where the other half of her rested, unable to reach out and bridge that gap.

It was in this state she remained, looking into nothingness until the brief window she had been given took form.

It was the momentary strength, granted by Valery Noble Valery Noble in her moment of strength she had granted to the Nexus. The small comfort that had been granted by Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor in his final moments as he stood by her side. Alexandra's eyes, her gaze into the flow of the force seeing them as that beacon. They were a flash of the Light, highlighting a form that lacked the features of a human yet retained their form.
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Her gaze on them, on the light that flowed from them an the last momentary lifeline that Alexandra could latch onto. The desperate opposition and defiant form that stood against the actions of the Dark Side Elite. Even if the Nexus would crack, would fall and give way to the Darkness, the two had created a chance for Alexandra to claw her way out. She reached out, pulled at the souls and anger, tore at the sadness that threatened to drown her beneath it.

And as she did she found herself falling to the ground, staring at the very portals she had seen in her time within the Netherworld. The endless realms where suffering and the souls of those who had fallen existed. The dark void where the long dead evils of the Galaxy rested and those who stood against the natural order resided. Her hand coming to her chest as she looked into that gateway, as her heart seemed to be beating like a drum. It threatened to crack her ribs with how loudly and strong it beated.

'You will Fail' The words from Darth Bellum Darth Bellum , words that fell and echoed off the expanse around her.

'For I am... WAR' The words came again, pushing her back down to her knees, her unstable and ethereal form as it stood within the flow of the force. The shadows like chains reaching out and binding her down to her knees.

'Bend and Break...' A new voice, that of Kaleb Sunwalker Kaleb Sunwalker reverberating through the Force, the Dark Gateway threatening to drag her down still as she stared up at it, defiant in her own expression now and instead she pulled at the chains. She risked a great deal, to let herself be pulled like this so close to the other side, to fall into the flow of the force when her Soul was so finely bound and with a blade could be broken in two with nothing to bind them together.
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And standing in that Gateway, that dark path was the her that she had abandoned. The self that had once served Darth Carnifex, that worked on the creation of so many monsters with Taeli Raaf. She looked down at the kneeling and bound self before finally Alexandra just smiled. A breath released, and like a cold wind the world around her froze. The Flow halted, and the Will of the Force brought to a stop before her. She reached out, and pulled her hands towards her chest. Her own physical body finally moving, mimicing the action for Bellum to see, watching as the faint strand became brighter and Alexandra's eyes started to show some light to them once more.

She had denied that path, had denied the dark and stood in opposition to her fate before. She had died twice, she had been put to death before the Greatest Generation of Sith in their time, had stood at the side of a Dark Lord far superior to whatever these Elites thought of themselves. She had broken away and would not fall to those base emotions once more, the rage and need for power to escape her suffering.

The strands of light that her body had found connection in, the very way she linked to her soul when before the Tree she called home. She reached out, latched onto the flow of the force, and while the darkness rushed out she stood before it behind her body. She stood against the rush, the winds that wiped at her being, threatened to still pull her back in. Instead her hands reached out, pushing through that darkness and as they did they pulled at the faint but ever present strength that existed within the Light. Resilience in the face of hopelessness, the warm kindness that drove the Jedi to give everything even against such a terrible darkness.
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Caltin's Sacrifice, Zark's risk to keep his Padawan safe, Corazona's actions to let life spread through the Temple. Connel's charge to protect so many innocents. She drew on all of them, drew on these examples, drew on what little light there was and pulled those strands to her. She let them reach down into her skin, following the path of her veins and muscles, binding the Light to her form and letting her soul unite with it. Even now as Bellum would look into her being, even as the half of her that remained dull and far away showed, it would be pulled closer and into one singular form.

It was only through so much selfless sacrifice, through the unwavering and steadfast actions of the others would this be doable. Had Connel fallen back, had Corazona not leapt into danger without hesitation, had Zark struck out in desperation and fear rather than gave his own safety to stop Koda. Such small actions would have done nothing more than allow for the Darkness to further drown out any hint of Light.

But that was not the case.

And as this was made all the more clear, Alexandra's hands would reach out. They remained open and facing the ceiling above. She stood and with her breathing returning to normal her form would glow lightly. Silver light leaving her, spreading over the tight corridor and in direct opposition to Bellum's chocking void it would provide the same worth and comfort that she had granted before. Only now it pulled at the last bits of Hope and Warmth, the selfless intentions of every soldier and jedi that gave themselves to protect those around them.

"Even if we fail to seal the Nexus once more, or fail to stop you in taking this planet, we have not failed in our duty. Only when we give up, when we fight you with the same dark emotions and seek the same revenge and retribution rather than the selfless protection of those around us, do we fail. Vanish, return to the Shadows, and do not return." She would look at Bellum, into them and into the void they came from. Releasing the light towards them, like a purifying wave as it rushed forward and past Vulpesen Vulpesen .

She knew and doubted it would be that easy, but as Bellum would watch, this was not a simple flash of Light, but instead a steady stream as she drew on those who still fought on above them. She would not quit or give out until those above them did, even as her body strained itself to connect with her other half so far away from Coruscant. Even as the light moved around her and guided her body as it walked forward, the strands a silvery white smoke that flowed with each of her movements.

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Exiting with Xuko Pagoi Xuko Pagoi

Who knew how an Astromech's mind worked? When Xuko asked for safety, 9R-9RS (Niner to his friends) had run some numbers.

The odds of getting blasted out of the sky by Imperial forces the moment they left the hangar bay? Pretty good, honestly.

The odds that the safest thing to do was to stay put in the hangar where there were no longer any visible Sith or Sith-like problems while one Padawan poorly mended another? Virtually inarguable. Safest possible odds.

But that just increased Niner's chances of having to sit in that hangar attatched to a largely forgotten shuttle for another year or two and Niner was NOT about that (artificial) life. It took command of a shuttle it already had administrative access to, fired up the jets, and disregarded the warnings from a fussy flight control daemon that reminded him the EX-1 Pathfinder was in the maintenance hangar because there was something wrong with it.

Under Niner's piloting, the shuttle completed an unauthorized takeoff from the Jedi temple, leaving no record of why it was leaving, where it was going, or who was on board. Perhaps the Jedi passengers would be reported as casualties, or AWOL - it didn't matter to Niner. He was finally free to roam about the galaxy. The shuttle took a pair of glancing blows from casually interested battery fire as it broke atmosphere, one ship among many fleeing the surface of Coruscant. With more alacrity than was perhaps wise, Niner rushed out the quickest astrogation calculation possible to get the hell away from Coruscant, then flung the shuttle messily into hyperspace.

Which, thanks to either the Force or immensely inconvenient hyperlane collapse, flung the shuttle to the furthest edges of the Galaxy.

 
S H A D O W - L O R D
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Information and Tag
Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord
"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 Kaleb Sunwalker | Orran Orran | Talon Draven Talon Draven | Prowler II Prowler II | Darth Bellum Darth Bellum | Khronas Khronas | Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis | Open
Enemy: Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania

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The events escalated rapidly, and Voldran could even feel the power of Solipsis, as the man lent his strength to the efforts undertaken by the Dark Side Elite in that very moment. Voldran continued to concentrate, still chanting, even as he pushed himself up from the ground, calling his gauntlet to his hand through the Force. His focus faltered for a few heartbeats when a shockwave hurled him against the wall, but the lapse was not critical - thanks to the others, and the aid they received even from afar. They had reached a point of no return, a place beyond help. The seal had fractured, and there was no stopping it now. Deep below, the Dark Side Nexus was awakening.

Voldran felt the clashing of the Dark and Light sides of the Force all around him, and the sensation churned his stomach. The Light Side, by its very nature, caused him pain because of what he was - while the Dark Side was dangerously seductive, tempting him to surrender. It took all his willpower to resist the pull into utter darkness. The gauntlet was already secured on his hand, but he still reached across with the other to press the palm of it against the wound. Many would say pain led to the dark side - but for him, the pain sharpened his awareness, cleared his thoughts.

The others were still focused; even Khronas Khronas had joined his mind to theirs. And in the end, all forces came together to bring success. Voldran could already feel several Jedi approaching, even as @Valery Noble’s attack struck. Fortunately, the blow was somewhat mitigated by the power of Bellum and Solipsis - but still, Voldran cried out in agony when the Light Side’s assault hit. He gasped for breath through the pain, as Kaleb at last completed the ritual - and the Nexus seal ceased to exist entirely. The dark power of the Nexus was unleashed. The Jedi could do nothing now.

With fatigue weighing heavily on him, Voldran ceased chanting and withdrew from his focus. Limping in pain, he made his way to the exit from which he sensed one of the approaching Jedi. He stepped into the corridor, and soon the young, blonde-haired woman arrived. He was slowly overcoming the pain from the strike, though he still leaned slightly on his blade for support. With a polite nod of the head, he spoke.

"It is done. The seal is broken. Please leave - while you still can. I do not wish to harm you." he said in a courteous tone, one devoid of threat - tinged only with sorrow.

After all, the half-blood did not wish for any of this, but he had no choice. He was not strong enough to resist his mother’s power. And yet, he was glad to be far enough from the others that they could not hear his attempt to spare a Jedi. He could do no more; his actions had never been his own, as proven by what had just happened within the sanctum - but perhaps… perhaps with words, he could still defy his mother, and the will of the Galactic Empire.

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


Engaging: Darth Apophion Darth Apophion

The man-made-spear of sunlight crashed down on Apophion like a bolt of lightning from the sky, blunted by the Force barrier yet breaching it all the same, resulting in an earth-shattering impact, sending the Sith as well as countless combatants flying in every direction. Thurion emerged from the bottom of the crater, still bathed in golden glow. Just as Followers of Bogan drew upon the suffering of others, so too was the Lion fed the power to punish those responsible for said suffering.

"You will submit," he repeated, Anarion aflame with cleaning light.

The red lenses of his visor beheld the lightwhip's re-activation. Determined not to fall for the same trick twice, the Lion unholstered Heaven's Wrath with his left, firing off several plasma rounds as he met Apophion's charge, each capable of punching holes through all but the most resilient of materials. It was a distraction; intended to disrupt plans and interrupt actions during the rapid advance.

Thurion blocked and deflected Apophion's flurry of blows, yet remained wary of that whip. He didn't need another reminder of its capacity for dealing pain. With some quick thinking, he spotted an exposed cluster of vines courtesy of Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania and willed it to rise from the duracrete in time to intercept and ensnare the lightwhip's tendril.

The Lion then bashed the Celestial Aegis against Apophion to force him back, holstering his sidearm. "Have some dignity in defeat, Boganite. In all my years, I've yet to see proof of your supposed superiority. Your kind talk big, but can never back it up in a straight up fight. Rotted minds, the lot of you!"

Thurion stuck the Sunlight Blade in the ground and raised his empty hand. Behind him rose a veritable wall of rubble.


" Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex would have had the mettle to prove me wrong. You, are no Kaine Zambrano."

He reached towards the Sith Lord and closed his fist, sending a hailstorm of duracrete and scrap metal projectiles hurtling towards Apophion, some of which skewered Imperial troops caught in the crossfire.
 
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TAGS: Rikuan Rikuan Everest Vale Everest Vale
EQUIPMENT: Rann's Lightsabers

Rann couldn't help but feel giddy. That was the second time a combo move between him and Rikuan paid off, and the young Jedi made it look so cool. He couldn't help the little swell of pride in his chest.
He wasn't sure why, Rikuan wasn't his apprentice, after all, but from what he saw of these two, both Rikuan and Eve, the Jedi Order was in good hands, and it made him feel happy, happier still for his son, Aron Thress Aron Thress , to be a part of this group.

The approaching Imperials backed off, turned away by the combined assault of Rann and Rikuan and the fall of their commanding Darksider. Rann placed his hilts back on his belt and let out a cheer, throwing his hands in the air, "That was great, man!" He praised, returning Rikuan's thumbs up with both of his. He jogged closer, confirming the fallen attackers would stay that way with a light kick as he passed. He got a groan or two, but they wouldn't be fighting again any time soon, so he let them be. He clasped a hand on Rikuan's shoulder and smiled warmly, "Good job, Rik. May I call you Rik?" He slapped his back, "I'mma call you Rik." He turned towards Eve as she called out to the pair,

"Yeah we're alright!" He nodded, the smile still plastered across his face and his eyes shining with pride, "how about you? Haven't seen fighting that fluid, graceful even, since....man. Couldn't tell ya. Very very impressive!" He clapped his hands together and stepped closer, determined to give her that ol' pat on the back, but was deterred. He sensed it, so too could they. The Imperials rallied, and had begun their attack again. Rann's face hardened and he turned back to face them,

"They're awful persistent, I'll give 'em that..."
he muttered, pulling a single lightsaber from his belt and igniting it. He was about to turn, ask his compatriots what plan of action they should take, if Eve wanted to get in on the awesome combo power of the R and R powerhouse, but just as he turned, she sprinted forward.

A bewildered chuckle escaped his lips as she moved forward, and he locked eyes with Rikuan, "Hey bud, how about that throw again?" He pat his shoulder. "Show her what she's missin' out on."
 

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Objective: Against the Jedi
Location: The Jedi Temple - Meditation Chamber
Vera Noble Vera Noble Vaegon Dolmyrian Vaegon Dolmyrian

The Vines began to roll over his feet and curl around his legs even as Kol shifted to brace for Vaegon Dolmyrian Vaegon Dolmyrian 's attack.

Drawing his right side back Kol had shift so that his left side lead. In the process he'd snapped his dominant, right hand backwards sending the lightsaber he held in a sweeping diagonal parry meant to clip Vaegon's blade in a crackle of energy and deflect it in the process. As the lightsabers made contact Kol drew his left arm, elbow tucked near the outside of his hip across his waistline so that he could fan the blade of that lightsaber beneath the cover of their primary weapons for the mid section of the Jedi.

It may have been that Daegon was outside of Kol'd reach regardless, his saber being more conventional in comparison to the shoto style that Kol wielded.

By then Vera's vines were climbing as high as his knees, reaching for his hips and the Prophets face would twist into something wretched as he hissed...

"Cowardice."

...his lips curled revealing teeth that clenched against one another...

"She will have a small piece of me with her forever now. When she sleeps she will see me staring back at her."

He needn't look at Vera, he could still feel her. His eyes focused on Vaegon, his mind reaching out to caress the Jedi's surface thoughts and his psyche instinctively. It was a simple thing, the surface thoughts were the easiest to read as they came to someone so openly and naturally.

The Vines held him around the legs tightly, he flexed his muscles against them. He'd need to cut or tear them away to be able to move freely.

It seemed as though Kol could sense the telepathic connection that Vaegon and Vera shared. It meant their minds were open and not entirely closed off.

He opened as mouth as if to speak, lips parted as though he were shouting or screaming. No words were uttered though. Instead a psychic scream ripped out of him, tearing across the mental landscape to flense and fray the edges of the mind, to rip and slice through the metaphysical rather than the physical.
 

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Post #5
| Location | Galactic City Spaceport
| Objective | #1
| Allies | GE/DSE
| Tags | Tansu Treicolt Tansu Treicolt & Talsin Lota Talsin Lota

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Bay 12 burned.

The roof had begun to groan; metal structures strained as heat rose. From the hangar's mouth, smoke poured in in thick waves, clustering between the flickering emergency lights like a serpent.

First it was her silhouette, then Zantra stepped lightly through the red-lit smoke, one cable extended, still gripping Tansu's ankle, and the other writhing behind her like a shadow-tentacle.

She had them.

She’d succeeded in separating them. Emotionally. Physically. Jedi always cracked when you split their purpose. Talsin had shattered right on cue -- broken by memory, though not of her own doing, she greatly appreciated it. The girl, Tansu, had flailed predictably in his absence. Together, they seemed formidable. Alone, they bled mistakes. She expected more. And maybe this is where she made her own grave mistake...not ending it when she had the chance. Smugness.

She watched the girl scramble backward, one foot entangled that she tried to free after smacking away her second lashing cable. Some ways behind her, another fuel line exploded with a sharp whumpf of pressure, shooting a blue-tongued flame up into the rafters. The firelight gleamed across Zantra’s skin, accenting her silhouette with searing gold, as she came more and more into view.

Zantra slowed, just a step. Not faltering. Listening. The free cable writhed behind her shoulder like a living thing, flexing with restrained intent.

Him.” she echoed, voice low.

A beat.

Then a crooked smirk cracked across her face. “You wanted my name?” She took a step forward, “Zantra.”

The bay trembled. The hangar shield at the mouth flickered in instability. The deck had begun to pitch, it was subtle -- power was rerouting unevenly.

Then her gaze snapped to the side — the slightest flick. It was Talsin, and she saw that the haze left him. His expression had shifted

Her eyes narrowed.

Too late. He was moving.

He vaulted her writhing ferro-cable like a training yard obstacle, slashing down midair. He carved his companion free from her mechanical tentacle; It screeched, severed at a certain point. Sparks exploded from the ferrocore, and the tentacle dropped like a dying snake, its weight clanging against the deck. The rest she recalled, the cable retreating fast back into her orbit.

Overconfidence. In trying to finish Tansu, she’d overreached, and was too slow -- she left herself open. She thought she would bait Talsin to stay back. But she’d underestimated how much pain could sharpen one's senses rather than dull.

Zantra hissed, flinching hard from the feedback in her spinal ports; it brought her a degree of pain. The twitch in her back forced her to sidestep off balance, but she didn't recover fast enough. Talsin was already on her. Talsin’s saber came low, sweeping in fast toward her legs in a blur of blue light.

Zantra made a quick, and frantic choice in that moment, with a sharp hiss of breath, she vaulted into the air and rolled, spinning into a tight inward corkscrew as one of her cables whips downward to parry his saber mid-sweep. Talsin's saber carved through the air just an inch from her knee; she barely made it and sped tied him, her parry only managed to knock his blade just a minute degree off its intended target, and that was with the help of the second cable that snaked toward his neck -- a feint -- but instead she retracted it at the last second, to distract and keep him guessing, until she could recover.

She landed hard, skidding into a pivot. Her sabers shot to her orbit. But that half-second she spent predicting and trying to throw off Talsin gave Tansu an opening.

One of ferro-cables recoiled behind her, lashing once in agitation. She winced. One of the synth-muscle linkages along her spine sparked.

Several feet behind her, a refueling conduit ruptured from the heat and pressure, sending a geyser of burning green flame skyward. Fire suppression systems failed to engage. Sprinkler nozzles sparked but stayed dry. The firestorm was closing in.

She bared her teeth.



----

Synopsis: War erupts across Coruscant, and a secret assassin closes in — but some destinies are always just out of reach.
Backdrop:
A 'How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex' Story
  • Identity being erased or rewritten under pressure
  • Being "seen" or "acknowledged" in a world of deniable assets
  • Duality of pursuit: emotional distance vs physical chase
  • Ghosts of past orders (Jedi, nobility) vs instruments of a new regime

 
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BATTLE FOR CORUSCANT
CORUSCANT
SENATE BUILDING


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

---

SCENE: “Ride or Die”

Location: Eastern Siege Line – Imperial Juggernaut Convoy
POV: Jeremiel, Michael, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael


---

BOMBED-OUT CORRIDOR – EASTERN TEMPLE PERIMETER – NIGHT

The Imperial Juggernauts rumbled forward, a mountain of steel and fire belching smoke from their exhaust stacks. Six axles. Armored treads. Three forward cannons. Crew complement: unknown.

They're headed straight for the Temple’s southern flank.

And then?

One stopped.

Not because of resistance.

But because Omega Squad just ripped the back doors open.

---

INT. DRAG JUGGERNAUT INTERIOR – MOMENTS EARLIER

Jeremiel dropped in first, rifle tight, senses sweeping. Two Imps rose their weapons—too slow.

Pop. Pop.
Both go down. No noise. No hesitation.


Michael followed, back-to-wall, clearing left. A heavy trooper charged from the command deck—Michael kneed him in the gut, then fired point-blank into the helmet seal, dropping him cold.

Azrael walked in last.

He didn’t shoot.

He tossed a small cube into the corridor.

Whump.

Three detonations in rapid succession.
EMP-pulse. Smoke. Flash.

When it cleared?

He’s walking over the bodies. Calm. Clean.

No need for conversation from any of them, they are peak professionals.


---

INT. COMMAND THRONE – UPPER DECK – SECONDS LATER

Jeremiel dropped into the command rig, not to pull rank, just to do his job.. His hands were a blur—slicing codes, overriding systems, rerouting safeties.

Mine now,” he says, smiling faintly.

Exterior armor plating shifts. Turrets lock to new targeting parameters.

---

EXT. JUGGERNAUT EXTERIOR – REAR TURRET WELL – NIGHT

The remaining Imperial gunners scrambled for the ladder.

Too late.

Michael kicked one off the top rail. The other is yanked down by Azrael, who threw him off the moving vehicle without breaking stride.

The Juggernaut jerkrd forward, now under Alliance control, storming down the causeway—firing on others of the like, drawing attention away from the Temple

And then the stars fall.

---

ROOFTOPS ABOVE THE JUGGERNAUT – NIGHT

Raphael and Sariel dropped in like the wrath of the Old Republic from their camouflaged perch having dropped the gunners of two of the other Juggernauts.

Raphael slammed down like a meteor, landing hard on the rear armor. His rotary cannon spun up, wind howling through shattered permacrete.

Sariel landed low—smooth, surgical—immediately taking position behind the dorsal turret.

As cool and eerily calm as always Sariel uttered the words: Turret's clear.

Lighting up targets.

---

MONTAGE – DEATH IN MOTION

Jeremiel throttled the Juggernaut forward, smashing through a barricade like it's made of flimsiplast.

Michael leaned out a side viewport, sniping enemy officers mid-command, sending squads into chaos.

Azrael tossed a satchel charge off the side, which stuck to an enemy walker, then saluted it as it erupted.

Sariel fired turret bursts into elevated positions, cutting down snipers, destroying antenna relays, and punching holes in AA nests.

Raphael? He just stood on top, body braced, rotary cannon barking nonstop fury, turning platoons into paint.

---

EASTERN ESCAPE CORRIDOR – JUNCTION 9B – NIGHT

A battered Alliance squad limped out of cover—then stares upward.

The Juggernaut tore through their enemies, smoke trailing, turrets lighting the sky, two black-armored soldiers riding it like ancient war gods.

Azrael yelling “Boom baby!” The more he fired the grenade launcher.

One soldier whispered, half-mad with relief:

“Is that… Omega Squad?”

His sergeant:
“No.”
“That’s death, driving a tank.”

---

INT. JUGGERNAUT COMMAND – MOMENTS LATER

Jeremiel switched channels. Fed Connel a signal through Omega’s encrypted line.

Clear path to the Rotunda.
Rear guard secure.
The hammer is yours, big man. Kick their ass!


Connel was fighting his way to the Temple Steps. Each step he took, each battle, was to help another. To free more up. Connel was fighting on will right now, and that was all he needed.

---

EXT. JUGGERNAUT ROOFTOP – RAPHAEL & SARIEL

Sariel finished reloading the turret.

Raphael planted his cannon and rested it for a second. He was grinning. Guess this counts as recon, yeah?

Sariel was busy scanning targets: Only if recon ends with craters.

When it's fun it does!

---

OUTSIDE THE TEMPLE

The Juggernaut peeled off, banking west, drawing fire away.

Connel walked in from the eastern edge, alone.

Omega Squad cleared the road for him.

And above?

The stars still burn.

But so does the legend of a squad that never breaks, never flees, and never, ever fights alone.

---

EXT. SKIES ABOVE THE TEMPLE DISTRICT – NIGHT

The war is screaming.

Alliance starfighters ripped across the clouds, chasing down Interceptors in flames. A spire erupts in a ball of shattered transparisteel, and from it fly two burning comets—

And from behind the Temple?

It awakened.


The Temple Nexus pulsed once.

And the ground felt it.

A low hum.

Then—the Plant Surge erupted, triggered by Jedi across the district.

Roots tore through permacrete.
Vines lashed walkers into ruin.
Blossoms of light and color eruptef across a battlefield of ash and fire.

The ground itself begab to remember what it is.


---

EXT. TEMPLE FRONT STEPS – NIGHT

Omega Squad slowed to a halt at the rotunda’s outer rim. Not out of hesitation—out of instinct.

Because something else surged through the air now.

It isn’t Force lightning. It isn’t kinetic energy.

It’s presence.

Jeremiel stopped mid-breath.

You feel that?

feel inspired.”

Azrael clenched a detonator, whispering like a prayer.

I feel… AMAZING.

The indescribable feeling came from battle meditation flooding the zone. No commands. No speeches.

Just strength.

The weight lifted. The heart quieted. The will sharpened.

Connel felt it like a supernova igniting inside his soul.

He didn’t feel stronger.

He felt anchored.

This is what iron will taste like. This is the Vanagor bloodline remembering itself.

He didn’t speak.
He walked.

---

The doors were already open.

Mordane waited. Silent. Still. Surrounded by elite remnants.
Twelve Phase III Dark Troopers at each flank.
Sith acolytes on the edge of the light gathering.
His trap is sprung.

Connel walked alone.

Just as Mordane wanted.

But what Mordane didn’t see—can’t see—are the ghosts in the shadows.

And Connel started to laugh.

Not maniacally. Not wildly.

But low. Deep. And unafraid.


---

Connel just stopped laughing suddenly and raised his head

You really think you’ve got the drop on me?



You think surrounding me with monsters and shadows will make me break?



You think I came here for glory, or some desperate last stand, like a cornered animal bleeding into history?




(He stepped forward. “Dawn's Light” ignited. The shortsaber followed, a deep hum of violet fury.)



You haven’t won anything.




---

My father stood so others could rise.



He fell so others could stand. We lost a great one, maybe more, but so many more will rise. No matter what happens today the Jedi will survive!



That is what a Jedi does!



You think dropping me—and let’s be clear—you won’t—will end something?



That the death of one Jedi will bring you your great Empire back? You started something that you can't finish! YOU'RE FIGHTING EVERY JEDI! Not just me! Not just Jedi here! Every Jedi will hear of this!



More will rise. The Temple. The Nexus. The Senate. The people. The very ground you’re standing on will remember your failure.



Because you blew it.




(He stopped, shoulders squared. Head high.)



You blew it the second you came here.


---

I came to this planet out of duty.



I stayed out of loyalty.



I fought out of necessity.




(He lifted “Dawn’s Light”, his saber to a guard stance. The crackling violet of the shortsaber danced like a heartbeat.)



But now?



NOW, all I am... is pissed off.



---

The Dark Troopers shifted, but Mordane seemed to remain still—his fingers flex behind his back, he had the Empire's best, his best around him.

He looked like he expected fear. What he got was something worse.

Resolve.
Belief.
Legacy with a fuse.



And from above—Sariel shiftee his aim.
From a standard fire order…

To confirmation of kills.

Raphael’s rotary cannon hummed like thunder gathering.

Omega Squad was more than ready.

Connel stared down the darkness.

And smiled.


---

Connel, in a time that was eerily calm, final, certain… Let’s finish this…

(Another phone post, left handed, written uphill, in the snow, both ways, just kidding
If any mistakes, Discord me)


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