Nar Sha-DON'T - Open Skirmish

[Romi Jade]

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Location: Nar Shaddaa​

Objective: Fighting & Stuff​

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A cascade of bolts began to sweep across the plaza, its deep thump-thumping an almost gentle counter-point to the screeching roars of ships escaping the onslaught overhead. Jade unexpectedly dropped down into the center of the crossfire. Then she leapt straight up into the air with her lightsaber flashing. The first of the war droids fell in two equal pieces after battering into submission. The rest shrieked and rushed in to fight...​

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More bolts began to sizzle down all around Romi as the fighting picked back up, charging the air with static. She raised her lightsaber and yielded control to the Force, then started to whirl and dance across the urban crawl. She rushed into the next square, a gesture crushed scourge war machines into balls or blew them apart from the inside. A look stilled imperial legionnaires in mid-lunge while a couple of the 91st rushed in to finish them off. In a matter of moments, the dozen were dealt with.​

"Romi Jade...the Jedi beauty who busted me for murder and left me heartbroken on Hoylin. Good to see you again."​

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Oren Phett came up behind her -- a merc she'd had dealings with during her tenure at the Deneba Enclave. She'd stopped a food shortage and saved his butt after deducing he was set up. A story for another time...​

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"You're lucky that's all I did. Dealing with the Hutts now Oren? I'd thought you sought out honest work?"​

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"I'm a merc, we go where the credits flow. But I gotta say I'm glad to see you..."​

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"I bet." She teased, "This is the second time...you're terrible at your job."​

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His men crowded around -- not many of them were left. But they had a sizeable party with her men included.​

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"Commander..."​

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"Right. We should get moving..."​

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[member="Tsisaar Taral"]​

 

[Shade of Decay]

His sense of the Force leading him onward, it did not take Tsisaar long to find the quarry he sought; given that she wasn't doing anything to hide her presence, it was fairly simple. He watched her and her team destroy the imperial forces in the plaza, trading jokes back and forth with some of the mercenaries who had barely managed to survive, before deciding it was time for them to move onward. He stepped into the plaza, then, unlit lightsaber in one hand, walking straight for the group.

Some rifles were instantly raised and trained upon him; with a scornful gesture, they were ripped from their wielders' hands, before flipping around and being trained on them in turn. "It most certainly is time for you to move onward," he said, his voice emotionless. "Thank you, soldiers, for escorting the lady this far, but your services are no longer needed." He turned his head slightly, facing his gaze on Oren Phett. "Nor yours, mercenary." As expected, more weapons were raised and trained upon him.

Tsisaar turned to Romi, activating his weapon. "Send them away, Jedi," he suggested. "I know how your kind feels about needless death, and I didn't come here for them. I'd rather not have to waste the energy." Puncuating his statement, the safeties on each of the blasters that he was controlling through the Force deactivated with a quiet click. "But if you force my hand, I'll have no choice but to remove them from the battle entirely."

[member="Romi Jade"]

 

[Romi Jade]

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Location: Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Fighting & Stuff
Enemies: [member="Tsisaar Taral"]

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"It most certainly is time for you to move onward,"

She stopped. A pivot allowed her to rotate her body. Whipping around, she swayed a bit in her stance as she shifted her weight. Her eyes moved through a quick cycle of observation after a quick telekinetic display that fixed the weapons of those within her party back upon them. But she remained...​

Though, Oren in all his anxiousness looked to her once again to step in. "Uh..Romi..."​

Hmm​

But, she knew him from somewhere. She couldn't quite place it, but when she did....​

There were a dozen questions running through her head.​

Tsisaar turned to Romi, activating his weapon. "Send them away, Jedi," he suggested. "I know how your kind feels about needless death, and I didn't come here for them. I'd rather not have to waste the energy." Puncuating his statement

"You don't want to do that..." she casually suggested in turn, "You've made your point, and we can go at it...but let 'em go hm?" She started towards the front of the group, working her way towards the middle in between them all, bringing herself within range of Tsisaar.​

She leveled her hilt, almost as if she were exchanging herself for them.​

 

[Karsan Munin]

The Sith squad he had massacred was in one moment, collecting prisoners and evaluating which would be good for slaves, and the next, reacting to an ambush. Problem was, Karsan knew how they operated, and how they would react to a drill. Sure, they weren't idiots- but it was hard to counter someone when they were anticipating your movements. Sith liked to regroup, then counter-attack. It made sense, allow your superior numbers to reconvene and then attack into your enemy. Problem was, instead of staying static as most Sith trainers would expect the enemy to do-

Karsan was charging, screaming. Blaster rifle held at his hip, he dug it into the stomach of one soldier, spraying his guts all over the wall nearest him. He used his Beskad to slice the throat of another, and with the first being used as a shield, he advanced on the other two, cutting them down with his blaster fire. He dropped the stolen rifle, and rolled his Beskad back into his right hand.

He screamed, charging further.

The Force moved darkly around those prepared to kill. [member="Iresias Sirax"] could feel him coming. He was charging, screaming. He had no intention of giving her an inch. She wanted blood- she could have it. If only she could take it. He peeled his left fist back- his crushgaunt adorned fist going to grab her and throw her. If successful, he planned to throw the smaller woman against the wall. He had a size advantage, and he needed to start the fight off with that, set the tempo. He couldn't let her dictate the tempo, the outcome. He needed to gain the upper hand, and fast. Part of being successful against a superiorly-numbered enemy was pressing the advantage of you moving faster.

That, and he hoped to use the confined space of their environment to press the height and weight advantage. Very hard to overcome that- he also didn't want to test her lightsaber skills. Very hard to use a lightsaber, let alone a bladed weapon, in a very confined area. He didn't feel like testing out how well his Beskar'gam would do against a lightsaber today.

The Sith made him a monster- they'd feel his wrath. They'd feel that anger. That rage.

 

[Shade of Decay]

"Yes," Tsisaar replied drily. "I did, in fact, just say I don't want to do that. Your listening skills are as excellent as Knight Khel's ever were." He flicked his hand, the blasters floating in the air flying over the heads of the soldiers and mercenaries and off, back down the path they'd opened up with their fighting. After the exchange between the pair of Force sensitives, the mass of combatants turned, retrieving their weapons and retreating.

There were other objectives for them to complete, other battles. This one was not for their kind.

Tsisaar held his blade loosely at his side, not yet making a movement to attack. "Romi Jade." His tone was almost flat, emotionless...except, perhaps, for a small amount of amusement within it. "It has been too long. We haven't met since Coruscant, yes? I hear you were at Pantora, though. Such a shame we couldn't meet then." He settled back into a low guard, watching Romi carefully for any attacks.

"It's time for you to rejoin Jace Khel, miss Jade. Will you come peacefully, or are you going to make me drag you to him?"

[member="Romi Jade"]

 

[Romi Jade]

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Location: Nar Shaddaa
Objective: Fighting & Stuff
Enemies: [member="Tsisaar Taral"]

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"Yes," Tsisaar replied drily. "I did, in fact, just say I don't want to do that. Your listening skills are as excellent as Knight Khel's ever were."

Smirk

So that's where she knew him from. From the temple on Coruscant... "I know. I just wanted to reiterate the fact that you were bluffing of course..." she shot back, slowly tilting her head forward. She started to widen her stance a bit, Jace... her thoughts drifted off to her former Padawan.

Tsisaar held his blade loosely at his side, not yet making a movement to attack. "Romi Jade." His tone was almost flat, emotionless...except, perhaps, for a small amount of amusement within it. "It has been too long. We haven't met since Coruscant, yes? I hear you were at Pantora, though. Such a shame we couldn't meet then." He settled back into a low guard, watching Romi carefully for any attacks.

"I don't ever recall officially meeting you...gosh Coruscant was all a blur." She teased. "Yes, I'd heard that too. Apparently there was more than one of me running rampant on Pantora. A shame indeed we hadn't crossed paths, but here we are now..."

Raising her own unlit saber to the side, she took a deep breath. Opening herself up, she drew the metaphysical energy she'd known intimately close, shrugging it own like a well worn cloak -- she'd smooth the whisping edges before letting the current of power fall around her in a rippling wave.

"It's time for you to rejoin Jace Khel, miss Jade. Will you come peacefully, or are you going to make me drag you to him?"

"Now I'd almost wish we'd met earlier, it doesn't seem like you know who I am at all." She retorted, "But since your new to the Jade experience, and I feel like being fair, I'll also give you the chance to back off. After that, one of us will be limping away...and I'm willing to bet it won't be me." The Queen of Air and Darkness followed up with a smirk.

 

[Rach'ta]

Location: Battlefield, Nar Shaddaa
Allies: None
Enemies: None
Equipment

Spoiler

Crimson Garments
Spiked Brace (R)

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Mere weeks had passed since his rite of passage in the tombs of Korriban. The Force pushed him onward, off the world had been his home longer than Ryloth - a distant land he barely remembered. Here he was nearly lost among the seemingly endless in height skyscrappers and the filth. The enormity of the buildings were breathtaking to be sure, and made one feel small, but they did not compare to the majesty of the monuments of the ancient Sith. He could not have known that the Sith Empire would decide to launch an assault on the this section of the city, and in such vigor. Nothing but the dark-side as his compass guided him in this journey and it gravitated to what may as well be a bonfire in the void within the space between spaces. Surrounded was he by the torches of burning Sith desire and embers of the mundane. He could almost see the Sith through the veil of the Force at this distance. Rach'ta felt the lives of lesser warriors being snuffed out as the sacred struggle unfolded before him.

Those who had took him in were sensitive, yes, but their middling power did not compare. As others rushed past the Twi'lek to escape the fighting he strode forward in a trance. Rach'ta put out his arms and looked towards the sky as he basked in the waves of power that he felt stirring around him. It was an absolutely euphoric experience for the Acolyte. The battle raged, destruction rained down around him, and the flames of war purified the filth he detested. At the heart of it all was purpose, their purpose. The Sith were the Chosen within the great eternal balance, they were the destruction - and renewal - of the material having been blessed by the Force in this ordained mission.

As he neared the edge of the battlefield he fell to his knees and his arms reached up towards the sky with upturned palms in complete adoration of the sight before him "Peace is a lie. There is only Passion." a blast pushed back his fabric veil for moment, revealing his golden irises set in wild wide eyes "Through Passion I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power I gain Victory." his arms reached up even further as if to grasp the Force manifested "Through Victory my chains are Broken. The Force shall free me!" Rach'ta called out the creed as if it had life, and a deeper truth. It was not just doctrine but dogma.

And then he saw him just as much as he sensed him, [member='Darth Carnifex] , doing battle in fantastic aerial form. Proceeding to mount the wall and claim his victory. Slowly the Twi'lek stood and watched with silent awe. To him the presence he saw in the Force transfixed him. Rach'ta proceeded forward without regard for the battle or the myriad of troops, his faith was strong which gave him power. This power would lead him through the fields of victory.

 

[JD Hayes]

Eslo's transport landed with a thud, his eyes jolted open and he can see his fellow Jedi going into battle as the flames of war destroyed the innocents of this war as he went along with them he saw that there was no going back now... He activates his Lightsaber the blue hue glowing in the darkness of the world unless you count the fire raging. He went over blocking blaster fire with his Lightsaber "We got wounded... we need a medic over here."

 

[Darth Raze]

Location: Nar Shadaa
Enemies: Romi Jade
Allies: [member="Tsisaar Taral"]

Bloodlust.

Sharp inhales siphoned in air through the nostrils. Expanded wide. Air expelled from the same location like a Reek in heat. Cycling through this process and motion brought on by what one would think to be combat. But if combat was your guess then you are wrong. For the sith knight Darth Raze this was his baseline reading, his heart pounding and instincts honed to the edge of a molecular blade. Corsing into his very veins and vessels the taint of the darkside directly injected and fed off of via painful means. Irritation and aggravation became him. A swirling fusion of anger infecting every blood cell and organ. Pushed to their utmost limits and then further into a array of operations only the darkest voids could empower to endure.

Like a karkadon, the pupils dilated allowing every single instant of movement to be taken in fully as if they eyes were the photoreceptors of a droid. Legs shifting weight back and forth with a intensity that ruptured the natural. This was now within the realm of the preternatural. Now air born, a blurred silhouette of the tattered cloaked Sith knight motioned to grip his weapon with a draw.

Snap-hiss

Often it is said that there is a space between stimulus and judgement...Only sometimes our impulses are too strong for judgement alone.

Coming to life an orange lava like blade blurred into action with a sweep bisecting innocents just released only moments ago at the hip. The entire motion was so fast there would be no time for a shriek or scream for the innocent bystanders in his path. Lips curled up revealing sharpened teeth gnashed and hard pressed into a grit as adrenaline induced eyes honed in on the main prize. For cutting down released hostages and bystanders were merely a means to an end. Down the line at the very end stood the Jedi herself and if Darth Raze had his way this female jedi too would be struck down with his single sweeping attack.

But this was Romi Jade. This would not be so easy, this was good.

In the end Kresnik did not care how his brother [member="Tsisaar Taral"] might feel about his own sudden arrival and interruption. That was to be dealt with later. Now it was time for action. The time for cooperation and synergy.

" No more words!" He snapped barely vocalizing his comment. The words muffled under the sound of a primal snarl.

 

[Zef Halo]

The answer was a shotgun's ugly muzzle in his face. He should've remembered he was on a world considered a hive of scum and villainy. For who exactly was he trying to be a 'Jetii' for? A slash of the darksaber would've been too slow and he'd just end up headless and dead.

So Amon just stood there coldly watching the woman not giving him the benefit of doubt. Nothing really to be said to that. Another voice interrupted the interaction, a voice coming out of a vocalizer...of a beskar'gam. The shotgun disappeared, the woman no longer existed, neither did anything around him - just the Mandalorian. Flashes of the Red Coronation crossed his mind and he tightened his grip of the darksaber's hilt.

Venge-

"You should go with him."

The Vizsla just slightly lifted an eyebrow. Not a Cadera dog?

Whatever questions lingered in his mind were interrupted by the flying corpse of a Rodian hideously cracking into pieces in a nearby wall. The source of the grotesque theatrics appeared in the form of an unarmed bloodthirsty Rattataki woman.

She challenged him out and there is no Mandalorian in the galaxy who refuses a challenge, except the current Mand'alor.

OYA.

Amon locked his gaze straight into her insanity and drove forward. The woman with the shotgun disappeared, drowned in a vague memory by the adrenaline rush of battle. Distorted color of black snapped from his hilt and the Mandalorian went straight ahead for a series of quick slashes at the Rattataki.

[member="Ivory"] [member="Neri Rashal"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

Weird arse lightsaber.

Black, humming, it felt like smoke curling in the air.

That was new, but it didn't matter either. Because it wasn't about the weapon. It's about the man wielding it. And as far as Iv was concerned? They all bled the same. The moment Amon came into proximity, her hand lashed out. She took a step back and compressed air would move to smash into his knee, just as he took another step for his slice into her person.

The sharp smoke cut into her armor-weave.

She had misjudged just how fast he was coming at her. Not even a crunchy kneecap could change momentum, once it was in motion. If Ophidia was here she would have clicked her tongue in judgement. That shutta. The idea of that only causing her to become even more angry. The hungry Darkside coiled inside of her, but it did nothing for the pain.

The sudden heat change burned into her skin underneath. A hiss, scream of fury- her fists balled up and smashed into his direction. Trying to blast him with the Force, creating space for herself.

 

[Zef Halo]

An unexpected push struck his weight bearing leg dismissing the sweet sensation of a weapon coming into contact with the intended target. Amon winced when an invisible irresistible force met an immovable object. The kneecap snapped straightening his leg and losing his momentum. Tendons shrieked at the sudden shift.

Shab.

The Force.

Another repulse sent him with feet dragging the ground a few feet backwards away from her zone. Yet, Amon did not possess the luxury of time to lick wounds. Not against a Force User. The special lessons his father stamped in his mind when it came to fighting those gifted with the Force fueled his next course of action. He lunged back in a charge, this time aiming to deliver even quicker swings, sacrificing lethal damage in return to keep the Rattataki's focus away from tapping the ethereal and interrupting as best as he could her concentration.

[member="Ivory"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

There was no time to celebrate temporary victory, or cry about the pain.

Before Ivory could touch the Force again- Amon was already lashing out with his saber. Not enough time to concentrate, nor to step away. All that Iv could do was snatch her hidden blade from her sleeves. Alchemized edge. It dashed the Darksaber to the side. Touching the heated zone again. This time Iv could smell her skin scorch. The pain was even worse this time.

One advantage here-

He stepped in, but she hadn't stepped aside or back, which meant with the lightsaber out of play for now?

Iv was past his defenses. Leg snapped down, moving to connect again with his weakened knee. Using the rotary momentum the alchemized edge tried to sliced horizontally across his gut.

Snap the knee. Cause Amon to double over and catch him on her blade. Nice and clean and angry.

 

[Leona Hart]

Nar Shaddaa
Club Vertica

She glanced over at the shouts, no expression on her face as they turn to laughter. The too many of the people here were continuing on as if nothing were happening outside their doors. Entirely secure in the protections that the club and ultimately their importance gave them. Yes, the Sith were here but what effect did that have on them? Virtually nothing as far as they were concerned. Possibly less than nothing, because business always picked up after things like this, and that was only to the good for those people already on top.

Leona's face was unreadable as she breathed in deeply on the tabacc. If she had an opinion on that, it was buried far deeper than the lines of her face.

She did have an opinion on something ELSE however.

Oh lord, not him.

She started to turn, to look and step away, but he saw her before she could. The barest huff through her nose before she turned back toward him, an easy smile on her lips as she tapped the ashes into a small, portable droid, one of many around the club, who's job was that precisely.

"One could say," she answered with amusement.

"Peachy keen, darling, absolutely peachy keen."

She ignored that he was ordering two drinks. Instead staying there at the window. Give him a chance to say 'well, see ya' and move himself off. They'd had very little contact in the last ten years and Leona was perfectly content to keep it that way. That period of her life was over, long past. She had completely remade herself since then. There was nothing from him, in any sense of the word, that she wanted.

The casual nonchalance was as feigned as most things she did, but it was entirely believable, even to someone who knew her- or had known her- as well as Daro had. She had gotten very good at not caring, yes. But she'd gotten even better at looking like she didn't care.

It wasn't perfect, however.

In the distance, a gout of fire. Here in the club, no sound from whatever it was reached them, and only those looking in those few heartbeats noticed it. But it arched, high above a distant district. The corners of her mouth tightened, ever so slightly. Easy to miss with the smile for someone who didn't know her.

[member="Daro Tarsi"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Leona Hart"]

Eyebrow rose up at the darling and the rest of the perfumed sentence.

"Oh yeah, sometimes I forget ya turned into one of 'em posers these days." A yawn as he leans a bit more heavy against the bar. The two drinks had been for both of them, but in all honesty... Daro had a hang-over the size of an asteroid. The last thing he needed right now? Was to deal with that grade of fakeness. He wasn't really sure what had happened. Everything... peachy keen one moment. The next she was gone.

Hurt in the past?

Sure thing. Didn't see it coming, after all. Couldn't prep his feels for it. No matter how dim and blunted they were these days. Hurt right now? Nah. Past that. She was one of their creatures now and that was that.

Disappointing, sure, but not his problem anymore.

"Well, see ya when I-"

Explosion, flicker of that expression and his own lines softened a tad. Instead of moving away, he trundled on over with the two glasses in tow. "You got a way to get off-world safely an' without notice from 'em?" Daro murmured as they watched through the viewport. One of the drinks passed on over to her insistently. A smidgen of concern in the expression before it was wiped out.

Root and stem.

 

[Zef Halo]

Like the snake she was, the Rattataki materialized a blade which under normal circumstances would've been melted to atoms...had it not been magical. Yet, its miniature length forced her to sacrifice flesh and give Amon a surge of motivation to keep on the onslaught.

Their distance shortened to the point where both could feel the other's breath. Eyes like abyss stared at each other. One pair - the color of fire burning with loathing and bloodthirst, the other pair - cold and still like a depthless lake.

Gazes locked in an unusual intimate moment that felt like an eternity.

Until the battle-hardened tendons gave in. She used his close distance to hammer his already struck knee killing the Mandalorian's balance. Amon fell forward as his leg surrendered and a ghoulish whisper cut the wind and his flesh with it. Teeth smashed against each other to soak the pain of the freshly open wound. Sweat rained down his brow but something stirred within that same depthless lake.

The chaotic and unforgiving storm of his father.

Amon's hand dove like an eagle seeking to catch its prey while the other went for a stab somewhere at her torso, all under hymn of a painful groan.

[member="Ivory"]

 

[Kuzo]

Back Alley
[member="Darth Ophidia"]

The man had come out of nowhere and disappeared again into nowhere.

Sure random person, I'll get right on that. Go with him..... right into a raving lunatic. Sure. Okay.

Yeah that wasn't happening.

Turning around for a moment, her back to the group she'd been leading, she started walking backward- keeping an eye for the moment on [member="Amon Vizsla"] and [member="Ivory"] . Oh yeah, that was a one way ticket to crazy town. Neri had been a soldier in the Galactic Alliance. It wasn't that she'd never seen forcers fight but that she generally avoided it for the sake of her health. Even the good ones were usually dangerous. She'd yet to see a forcer fight that gave a chit about the collateral around them.

Her thoughts flickered, to a moment, to [member="Delaney Wilder"]. Not a fighter that one but that was just as well. Well. Not THAT kind of fighter. Stick to the agricorps, friend. But if he did? Yeah, she thought he might. Give a chit that was.

It wasn't the time for that. Not even remotely. With a shake of her head, she pivoted-

And blinked.

Stepping into smoke.

The barest shadow of the tail end of the group in front of her disappeared from one step to the next. Where had the smoke come from? Something burning? Didn't smell like that- more likely from something dropped deliberately somewhere, wafted in by the hot winds from the east? Too thick. Too close. Her step slowed, drew wary. She brought the shot back up slowly, sweeping the mist-

A blaze of smoked light. The snap hiss to the side as she started to turn. Already on high alert, her finger squeezed the trigger just before the lightsaber cut through the twin barrels like butter. She didn't think she'd come around enough to actually tag the figure in the fog- her hands dropped the remains of the gun as she back pedaled, hand going down to her hip and the blaster there.

"RUN" She barked, drawing the gun, hoping they heard her- hoping they LISTENED.

Of course, she was just another random person, wasn't she?

The smoke swirled.

 

[LT-137]

Mid Rim // Hutt Space // Nar Shaddaa.
New Vertica // City Streets // Thyrsian Reavers.

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With a thin-lipped sneer peeling across his lips, and a measured grunt of effort, the Thyrsian Warlord made to pull his thrumming blade free. Yet, that bedazzled armour latched onto his weapon like a jealous lover. The sweeping blade of Sunforged steel was caught between segmented plates and the bones beneath; dragging the lightning-sheathed edge deeper and deeper into the fell creature's breast.

Khonsu had gone for the head, as he always had. However, the beast wove aside with such speed that belied its bulk. The decapitating blow struck beneath the creature's collar, instead, biting deep into the thickened flesh below. It smiled then. The sight was vile and inhuman, with too many razor-like teeth; a sight with disgusted the warrior to no end. In the seconds after the blade connected, the Sun Guard sought to yank the weapon free.

However, through means unknown, the blade remained embedded within the beast.

Despite the powered armour he wore, that increased his strength through technological means; and the lightning-wreathed blade that flash-fried flesh and blood it touched with every passing second, the blade wouldn't budge. That effort was all for naught, as the sweeping edge remained within the beast; crackling in muted rage as it blackened the thickened hide beneath the buckled plating.

The beast laughed, then. It was a sickly timbre that blended the palpable stench of spoiled food and the sound of tumbling gravel.

"Puny creature," it breathed through a many-toothed maw. "Without your armour. Without your sword. You are nothing."

The blade was abandoned with those taunting words. Instead, the Thyrsian Warlord surged forth with taloned gauntlets; ramming both of his thumbs into the sunken sockets that housed the creature's eyes. The laughter stopped then, replaced soon after by the inhuman howls of bestial agony.

Rage pulsed, hot and bright, through the Sun Guard's veins. They came to this misbegotten Smuggler's moon to reave and raid; expecting paltry sport as the mewling sheep fled for their very lives. He didn't foresee this creature, nor those that followed in its shadow. Whilst his warbands despoiled the surface, reaping untold glories from the embattled populace, Khonsu was delayed.

It angered him. With the taunts issued forth by the many-fanged maw? Khonsu's rising anger consumed him wholly. His sight - once bathed in the false-firelight of his helmet's visor - was now stained in a vital hue of red. He roared in lionized fury; digging his gilded talons deeper until an aqueous fluid began flowing down the swooping curves of his armoured digits. The beast kept screaming, as the creature crashed to his knees - which threw the Thyrsian Warlord back to the war-torn duracrete street below.

“You saw nothing of me, nor the power I wield,” Khonsu whispered, allowing the rage within his veins to slowly simmer. As whatever remained of the creature's eyes dripped with agonizing slowness from the Thyrsian’s fingers; a small smile replaced the enraged, and disgusted sneer that adorned his lips.

“And you’ll see no more.”​

 

[Iresias Sirax]

Location: Kajidic Citadel
Objective: Find and eliminate the Kajidii.

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They cowered, yet they fought with tenacity.​

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They fought, yet they could not think ahead and strategize. ​

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Their will was unlike that of the one clad in midnight - that shadow of unrelenting animosity; like a machine, hellbent on seeing their graves not beneath soil or reduced to ashes, but as an example at her feet as they bled, as they lost their existence. ​

​

Iresias continued her trek through the compound, feeling out its size and network of various rooms and chambers. There - further within was the target of her objective, the obese slithering mass of idiocy. Silent footfalls crept along the length of a dimly lit corridor, the hum-buzz of cheap lighting fixtures adorned the ceilings, the duracrete flooring damp from leaking pipes. The lightsaber Iresias wielded hissed with an indiscriminate blood lust - a thing of wanton butchery, but unfeeling and fundamentally factorial in its nature. Artificial, synthetic; just as Iresias was on the surface, her inner self a cold and shriveled mockery of life and authentic emotion. She feigned most things, but this - the opportunity to see the anger, the sorrow of another as they're pleading and in their death throes was truly exhilarating and a wonder to behold.

Substituting her own humanity for something far more repulsive.

Silent were the walls - still was the humid air. Sweat accumulated upon Iresias' brow and face, her eyes scanning the environment until she came upon an archway. She placed her left hand upon the cool exterior of the durasteel door - suddenly it activated, sliding upwards and revealing a chamber harboring a multitude of henchmen and those that dared to oppose the will of the Sith, and that of Iresias' master.

"You... did you believe yourself to be clever? Thinking you can just come in here and kill us without a care in the galaxy - you're wrong, and you're going to pay for your insolence." Said by whom could only be perceived as a higher ranking bodyguard among the dozens of multicultural foot soldiers, all staring with a murderous glare.

Iresias tilted her head, silent as she proceeded inward - advancing slowly but casually towards the mob. She stopped, bemused slightly by such bravery and defiance. Did they feel themselves to be... adequate? To match discipline with spineless cowardice in the form of firearms? Iresias twirled the obsidian hilt of her lightsaber, raising it upward and pointing it at the mouthpiece of the Kajidii. "Begin."

Enraged by her arrogance, the mob began to let loose a barrage of bolts - the cacophony of blasters drowning out their war cries; Iresias maneuvered her way ever closer, practically dancing through as she swatted away bolt after bolt, watching as they were redirected back at the defensive line. One by one they fell, a stray bolt managing to clip Iresias' shoulder as she managed to close the distance. They then resorted to a full frontal assault consisting of vibro-weaponry, ranging from swords to axes. If there was one thing that they didn't comprehend, it was pain; what they had endured was nothing, but Iresias would make them understand it as she had.

They would be acquainted with death in the most intimate of bonds; through defeat, they shall be gifted passage.

The crimson of her blade cut deep, skewered through chest and abdomen. Their weapons were broken, their limbs dismembered and scorched. In rapid succession they were slain like wild game. Corpses lay at her feet once more, some regarding her with their last dying breaths and mortified expressions.

Iresias examined the damage done to her shoulder, smirking behind her apparatus as she reassessed her surroundings and saw before her a reinforced door leading deeper within the chamber. Behind it she could feel fear, she could smell the fetid abomination of fattened flesh.

There was no more hiding, nowhere left to run.

Fate had come.

 

[Peyton Steele]

The blonde was going to be fine, she always was. But recalibrating, frak she was spending too much time with a droid, was going to take a hot minute. Looking around, and readying her blaster, she saw where the shot came from.

Above.

Of course it did. The Sith Empire came and played for keeps. What could she do? She could keep getting back up. Why? Because she had to. She was here to fight back, to protect those who couldn’t, and to do that? She needed information. She was hoping that Servant was awake, and in better sorts than she was. Still, she had to press on.

She had to persist.

“What are you doing there?” She had to put that into her datapad, but her system found the droid pretty quickly. They needed to move if they stood a chance at getting anything. The blonde could disable the droid, but removing its knowledge? She was going to need an expert at that, cue in @Servant. “Any word from Red Blade?” It would take a lot for her to go directly to assuming the worst, but for now? She didn’t want to visit that. Just visit the location of the Sith and their droids. Of information.