Junction No Disintegrations | BSS & THR Junction of Nar Vaadu Super Hex and Bothawui

[Kasmion Duum]

"Hello? Anyone here?" He called out, announcing his presence, surprised that the archives appeared so quiet. He had expected that other Jedi personnel would have arrived ahead of him, yet he found himself walking the isle alone, unbeknownst to the presence of Kasmion Duum Kasmion Duum walking a separate isle on the far side of the room.

Pulling his commlink free from his belt, Balun sought to raise Temple Security: "This is Balun. I'm in the archives. No sign of others, but requesting Security send precautionary backup. I'm not confident I can hold this position on my own".

There were sections of the archive region that were quite busy and this, thankfully and uncoincidentally, was not one of them.

"Excuse me," said Kasmion, emerging from the stacks one tap of his cane at a time, "I'm looking for any material you might have on the Guild of Shamers and the Huttese mind-slicers. I'd thought I found the right section but so far all I'm seeing is Jensaarai and Teepo Paladins. Are you needed for the defense, or could you point me in the right direction?"

 

[Loria Sorelle]

LORIA SORELLE
The Senate, Theed, Naboo

Darkness. Distant noises echoed throughout the building, perhaps even into the enclosed senator's office. The air felt stale all of a sudden, making it harder to breathe. Loria's own face could not contain the sense of concern that washed over her; Elenara too. Though Marcellan, weathered by his years in the service, appeared stoic.

Moments passed as the four of them remained within the office. Dominic's device eventually lighting and beeping away in hopes of finding Xandyr. The sound of quick footsteps outside the door heightened the anxiety of those in the room; And only one of them was armed.

Swoosh.

The door opened, and Bastila appeared out of the darkness. A frown formed upon her face as she let out a quiet sigh, it appeared that wherever Dominic went, so did the ex-Jedi; A thought only amplified by the gossip she had heard about Bastila climbing his fence like a thief in the night.

Though beyond it all, she was perhaps grateful for the assistance of one so skilled and capable in a time such as this.

Begrudgingly, the three agreed with Bastila & Dominic's suggestions, forming a line as they prepared to depart into the darkness, Marcellan drawing both Loria & Elenara near instinctually.

'Do either of you know where you're going?'

Dominic Praxon , Bastila Sal-Soren , Mercy & Xandyr Carrick

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Sal Katarn | Sars Sarad | Aiden Porte​

The first shot exploded. Before Lorn fully registered what had happened, his golden blade vanished in a sputter of sparks. Cortosis. Its familiar hum, a companion through countless battles, died mid-swing, leaving the saber a dead weight.

For a heartbeat, his chest hollowed. He felt naked, completely exposed to the mercenary's malice. That brief vulnerability gnawed at an old wound, a betrayal from years past, reminding him how quickly everything could be lost.

The second shot came next, a cone of searing light. Thermite shards screamed toward him with the heat of a star. His saber was useless, but instinct took over. Lorn threw himself into a low roll, the shards tearing over him in a hiss of fire. Heat scorched the back of his neck, burning hair and blistering skin. The air itself tasted sharp with molten sting. He came up hard against the ruined body of a Bando zealot, breath ragged, his chest aching from exertion and the searing heat.

Closing on Sal was impossible without his saber. Yet, Lorn wasn't unarmed. The Force thrummed through his blood, furious and alive.

Lorn's hand shot out, palm flat, and the corpse he'd rolled against lifted like a ragdoll. With a powerful push, it hurtled through the air toward the gunslinger. He didn't pause. Another, the husk of a mercenary still clutching a blaster, followed quickly. Armor scraps, shattered stone from the crater's lip, even the smoking remnants of a shattered droid turret. Everything became a weapon in his grasp. The air thickened with debris, each hurled piece a demand: stumble and yield.

 

[Seldan Rourke]

​

Seldan's boots struck stone with a steady rhythm, each step measured and confident. His dark eyes flicked between corners with the practiced paranoia of a man who'd survived too many ambushes. The shield generator strapped to his hip pulsed faintly with each shift of his weight, painting him in ghostlight.

He listened to Jaa's words, that strange blend of humor and raw honesty, with the faintest pull at one side of his mouth. Despite his bulk, grim armor, and scarred visage, Seldan's humor was the dry kind, a flicker in the storm. His humor wasn't born of comfort, but from living on the edge, from a man who knew just how fleeting life could be.

"That so? Six three to the ladies," he muttered, sweeping his rifle across another door. He paused long enough to listen for the shuffle of boots or the whisper of breath. Nothing. "Guess we'll see if the dolls are still around when this is over."

He pushed forward, gesturing Jaa to hold spacing, his broad shoulders angled like a wall. The stairwell funneled them deeper, toward the generator levels, where the air grew colder and dust was thick against the tongue. Seldan didn't miss the way Jaa's rifle sat a fraction too new in his hands.

A sudden scrape echoed up ahead, metal on stone. Seldan froze, hand raised in a silent halt. From the cross-hall, shadows spilled. Four figures moved quick and low, their armor jagged, insignia etched with the sigil of Black Sun.

No words passed Seldan's lips. His rifle barked once, then again, clean bursts that split the silence into thunder. The first man dropped with a hole punched square through his chest. The second collapsed clutching his throat. A third raised a vibroblade but was cut down before he could shout. The fourth turned to flee, but Seldan's final shot hammered him against the wall, lifeless before he slid down.

The hall fell quiet again, smoke curling from the barrel of Seldan's weapon. He exhaled, slow and even, then shifted forward to confirm each kill, methodical. When he returned to Jaa's side, his expression was harder than stone.

"Not bad for a stroll," he muttered, though his tone carried no pride, only focus. His eyes flicked toward Jaa, sharp now, testing. "You keep a steady tongue. I'll give you that. But words don't keep Aurelian alive."

He tilted his head, rifle still raised as they crept closer to the final bend, where the engineering station loomed. The faint glow of backup lights bled around the corner, promising their destination.

"So tell me," Seldan pressed, his voice quiet but firm. "Why are you here, Jaa Ardan? Looking for work with him? Doesn't smell right." He paused, then added, pointed as a knife: "Or is this that the pretty little Sal-Soren's game? You and her seem… close."

His tone was unyielding, though not cruel. It was the voice of a man who'd buried comrades before and refused to risk another unless he knew where they stood.

Seldan's eyes never left Jaa as he paced forward, shield at his side, rifle pointed into the dark. "I don't march with ghosts. You're either here for yourself, or you're here for someone else. Which is it?"

The hum of machinery grew louder ahead, the engineering station just beyond. Seldan's gaze, however, stayed fixed on his partner, waiting for the answer before they stepped into another fight.

Jaa Ardan​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian's hand rested briefly on the door's locking panel before he pushed it open. The reinforced durasteel groaned, releasing the cacophony of the palace halls into his office: screams and the hollow crack of blaster fire. This wasn't a palace now; it was a battlefield.

He moved forward without a pause, his shield generator humming a faint blue. His blade, elegant and merciless, slid free, glinting in the stuttering emergency lights. Though he had the bearing of a noble, his movements were those of a seasoned soldier, every muscle remembering years of training in Naboo's service. Senators and aides scattered like frightened birds, abandoning their robes and datapads. Black Sun thugs stormed the corridors, cutting down stragglers or dragging victims away. Aurelian didn't falter. With his Royal Guard, he pushed through, his blade flashing in quick, precise arcs. His shield deflected bolts meant for his heart and throat, leaving a trail of bodies on the floor behind him.

His chest rose and fell, his heart hammering with exhilaration, not fear, as adrenaline surged through his veins. This attack was too coordinated, too precise. He knew he wasn't the target; today's hunt aimed for the Republic itself. As his guards regrouped, Aurelian turned sharply, his dark eyes sweeping the corridor, a grim smile touching his lips. "They're not here for me," he said, his voice sharp and low. "They mean to shake the Republic to its core. The Chancellor is their quarry."

He scanned their tense faces, his own resolve hardening. "We move for the Assembly. If we find the Chancellor, she lives. If we find the Sith Princess and her... pink friend" a flicker of mischief touched his voice, "then they both come with us. Alive. I will have questions answered." He didn't wait; kings rarely did. He strode forward, his guards falling into formation behind him, the corridor ahead lit by fire and deep shadow. The deeper they plunged, the louder the storm grew; the Assembly was now a battlefield, not a hall for debate.

Yet, beneath his steely resolve and the calculated precision of his blade, Aurelian's heart thundered with a deeper, personal purpose. His thoughts didn't truly center on Chancellor Kalantha as he pressed forward. Instead, his focus sharpened on another individual, someone whose safety he prioritized far above political stability or the pride of Naboo's throne. It was her well-being driving his furious determination, even more than the fate of the Republic.

Blaire Sal-Soren​

 

[Decarii Tithe]

High Assembly Convocation Hall
Theed, Naboo

Sibylla Abrantes | Liana Organa
Tohu

While the credits did not buy a solution, they did buy time.

The gangster examined Decarii’s TF cred card for a moment and seemed to recognise her surname. While she traded openly under the Tithe name, her father's colourful career trajectory was not without its drawbacks. The Black Sun gangster was about to say something, but was interrupted by threats from Sibylla and Liana.

"She always try to screw up your deals?"

“Senators, what can you do?” she replied with a shrug. Sibylla was accustomed to using her words to carry favour in the High Assembly; while Decarii’s legal career was built on winning arguments, she preferred to settle things out of court. Why risk an unpredictable jury or a biased judge when you would bribe, threaten or blackmail opposing counsel and their witnesses?

Neither the credits nor the threats worked, and the gunman smiled in glee as he fired on the trio, targeting their young charge. The short verbal exchange had given the Aargauun time to think about her next steps, and she managed to slap the activation stud on the personal force field in her jacket pocket. The small device, handed to her by Sibylla as they had left her office, came to life just as the stun blast washed over her. While the lawyer stayed on her feet, a wave of dizziness descended on her as the dampened effects of the weapons wreaked havoc on her nervous system.

Decarii staggered toward a nearby wall and grabbed onto an ornate marble bust of a long-dead Nabooian queen. Far from arresting her fall, the sculpture toppled at her touch, sending both of them tumbling to the floor in a loud crash. Groaning, she crawled toward one of the fallen royal guards and recovered his blaster.

“Back to the office!” Decarii yelled to Sibylla as she climbed to her knees and wildly fired the blaster toward their attacker. "We lock it down, tight. No ones gets in or out." While they could not hold out forever, barricading the door could buy them time until backup arrived. Decarii withdrew her comlink from his jacket pocket and tossed it toward Liana. “Call the guards, get them down here. Tell them to send all of ‘em - I don’t care who else is trouble. We need shooters, and we need them now, got it!?”

 

[Kira Veylan]

//: Quinn Varanin / Drystan Creed / Koda Fett / Kingsley //:

Exhaustion was not an acceptable excuse for her tardiness.

At least not in her own eyes. The alert that should have woke her up initially had not done its job. The loss of communication with Dominique on a random day on Naboo was beyond alarming. The faults of the Senates security laid bare as the small woman tore a path towards the building.

Her mechanical arms propelling her forward faster than her feet would have carried her to some degree.

Claws finding purchase and tearing free portions of ground, building, and whatever presented itself as a potential source of momentum. Her body almost a blur with how harsh she was moving.

Missing Denon more and more with each second she spent on this star-forsaken planet and its nature oriented urban planning.

"Fethin preem day for this bunch of gonk boga." Venom leaving her lips as her claws burrowed into the outer walls of the Senate building and hoisting herself up.

First task was finding a window to gain access to.

The normal claws now extending into 30.5 centimeter long curved blades as the edge glowed a sunbright orange. The trim of the window cut free before the monomolecular edge was turned off with a thought. Rhe window pried out with a thunderous crash on the ground below.

Given the attack, she wondered if anyone would wonder what had caused that bit of property destruction.

A thought for later as her body slid inside the dark room with a dull thud through the open window.

Blinking until her eyes engaged low light mode with a thought. Rolling her shoulders with a chorus of whirs and clicks as her the servos in her arms engaged war mode. Armor plating covering vital points as her augmented arms stretched. Wrists now ending at her knees as her claws rested on the floor.

Tracing thin cuts into the floor as she breathed deep with a look around her.

Furniture around her seemed cut from static, grain where wood should be smooth, detail magnified until it lost all warmth. Every shadow had weight. Corners filled themselves in, the augment guessing where the light didn’t reach, overlaying detail like a liar’s confession.

The walls bled faint edges, their outlines drawn sharp and clinical as she moved forward. Bladed fingers sinking between the crack of the door. Forcing open a path until they turned sideways and applied pressure.

Metal groaned, contesting her until something in the wall buckled with a metallic snap that resonated through the halls as the door was made to open enough for her to slip through sideways.

The corridor ahead was painted in gradients of phantom light as details jumped to greet her. The floor glittered faintly under the sheen of someone’s careful polish, but the reflection was too sharp, too perfect with every smudge and scuff coming alive with just a glance.

She was surprised to find she missed the rough textures of Denon with each revelation that Naboo gave her. One set of claws outstretched and drug across the walls deliberately as she slowly walked forward. Each step forward soft and silent as the sound of metal scraping began to fill the air in the dark hallways before disappearing.

The sound was deliberate.

Uneven, stuttering scrape that ran low and rough, like a blade across bone. It echoed just enough to carry through the hallway, never constant, never predictable. A drag, a pause. Another, closer this time.

The sound was deliberate in its intent. Not loud, not chaotic. Just enough to coil in the ear, to scrape against the nerves. It was the sound of inevitability, of something hunting not in anger, but in patience.

 

[Aiden Porte]

2A
Lorn Reingard Sars Sarad Jerec Asyr Sal Katarn​

The sweep came faster than expected, Sarad's foot hooking like a scythe against Aiden's ankle. The crackling lock of their sabers held Aiden's focus for a half-second too long, and suddenly the ground was no longer under him.

His balance broke.

The world spun sideways as he crashed down hard against the crater's lip, the shock jolting through his shoulder and rattling the breath from his lungs. Dust and shards of stone bit into his back as he rolled, saber still clenched tight in his grip. The heat from Sarad's blade passed overhead, close enough to Aiden but luckily it missed.

Pain flared along his side, but instinct and training refused to let him stay prone. Aiden's saber flared as he swept it across his body in a protective arc, forcing space between them even as he scrambled back to his knees. Sarad's words still echoing in his ears—You are no Sword of Shiraya. Perhaps a tactic meant to sway his mind, force him into a feeling or situation that he didn't deserve....inadequacy. Yet it did nothing as he stood vigilant and would not let his thoughts or mind betray him.

Aiden planted his boots into the soil, his saber rising again as he pulled himself upright. The cut along his arm throbbed, his stance now looser than before, but his gaze locked back onto Sarad with a clarity born of resolve.

"You'll not break me so easily," he said through the dust, voice steady . His saber hummed as he raised it into high guard, ready to meet the next storm.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

1A
Sibylla Abrantes Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx Decarii Tithe Liana Organa Tohu​

Cassian continued to moved like a storm through the Senate's halls, the Abrantes guard quickly on his feels mopping up what was left behind in his wake. Every corner was another ambush, every corridor another test of endurance.

The first wave came fast, four Syndicate mercenaries fanning out from behind an overturned dais. Their fire lit the corridor in a jagged strobe of red. Cassian threw himself against a marble column, sighted, and returned fire. One bolt lanced through the visor of the lead man, another caught his comrade in the chest as he tried to flank. The last two pressed in closer, confident in numbers. Cassian let them. As they closed, he rolled out from cover, rifle barking in steady bursts. They both crumpled before they even realized their mistake.

He pushed forward. The corridors twisted like a labyrinth, once meant to impress with grandeur, now serving only as kill zones. A door slid open on his left, and two bounty hunters surged out, vibroblades flashing in the low light. Cassian dropped his rifle's sling over his shoulder, drawing his sidearm in one hand and his own blade in the other. The hallway rang with the clash of steel against durasteel as he met their charge. One hunter lunged high; Cassian pivoted low, driving his blade up into the man's ribs. The second swung wild in rage, but Cassian's pistol roared point-blank, dropping him cold.

His breath came heavy, but his focus never faltered. Ahead, another squad pinned him with suppressing fire. Bolts scorched the walls around him as he darted between statues of senators long dead, their stone faces chipped by the fight. Cassian slung a thermal grenade down the hall, the blast echoing like thunder. Before the smoke cleared, he charged in, rifle cutting them down one by one. The last merc stumbled back, trying to raise his weapon, but Cassian's boot met his chest, slamming him into the wall. A quick pull of the trigger ended it.

The corridor fell silent except for the ringing in his ears. The marble was scarred with blaster marks, the air thick with smoke, bodies littered where they had fallen. Cassian stood among them, chest heaving, rifle still warm in his hands. He had taken them all, each step carrying him closer to Sibylla.

He allowed himself no pause. He reloaded with swift, practiced motions, the clack of the cartridge echoing in the broken silence. The path ahead was still dangerous, but nothing would keep him from reaching her. His resolve had only increased from recent events that had transpired, it made him train harder, focus, push his body past utter exhaustion every training session. So during the actual fight, he would never stop.

"For Naboo" he muttered under his breath, pushing deeper into the Senate's heart, ready for the next fight.

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila​

The door sealed behind her with a low thud, shutting out the flickering corridor. For a moment she let the silence weigh, then cut it clean with her voice full of firmness, and a steady sense of command leaving no room for hesitation. This was not the Lady Sal-Soren many of them had become accustomed to, this was Bastila; Jedi.

“Nowhere here will remain safe for long. We have to move.”

Marcellan’s question met her narrowed gaze.
“Yes. Away from the office. We can head for the inner spire, it’s reinforced, and has an independent power supply. It will hold longer than anything else in this wing.”

Her vambrace flickered again; first the Temple, then Sibylla. Again she received nothing but static. The pit in her stomach hardened, but she buried it under discipline. There would be time for fear later. Not now.

“Or I can get you to the hangers, I assume you have transport stationed there?”

She drew herself taller, her tone sharpening. “Senator Marcellan, keep Loria and Elenara tight between you. Do not break contact with them, no matter what happens. Dominic will takes the rear, Loria…” She paused for just a moment, swallowing her pride. “Make sure you can always see Dominic, then we know the group is always together. I’ll lead the front, scan the forward threats. If a door slams down between us, you do not scatter! You hold position until I get it open. Do you understand?”

The three Sorelles would probably be hesitant, but her gaze would leave them little choice.

Her hand hovered near her saber but did not yet draw it. Instead, she gestured sharply toward the exit.
“Keep your pace steady. No running, no shouting. If the systems are spiking, the building itself is more dangerous than whoever’s behind it. Eyes forward. No mistakes.”

Outside, another sequence of locks thundered open in the distance, alarms layering shrill and uneven. Bastila did not so much as blink. Her focus had narrowed to a blade’s edge. She glanced once at Dominic; taking in his blaster, his limp from walking into the table on his arrival, his quiet steadiness.

Then she stepped through the door, checking the corridor beyond where as yet there had been no sign of visible threats. “On me. Now.” Then they moved, with desperate pace towards the next bend in the corridor. Hoping. Always hoping.

Loria Sorelle Dominic Praxon Xandyr Carrick​

 

[Sars Sarad]

2A​

---

Like a shark circling at the outskirts Sarad could smell blood.

Aiden Porte fell, Sarad envisioned an opening where he could finish the Jedi.

Eyes widened.

A sharp pain unexpectedly surged through his body from an epicenter near his left shoulder blade. The Vibroblade had sunk deep.

He'd lurch forward then stumble backwards a pace after regaining himself. The Lightsaber in his right hand raised defensively, shoulder height and angling horizontally to make it easy for him to defend or attack. Eyes which had been wide narrowed behind the blaze of the phosphorescent blade that crackled ahead of his field of vision.

His opponents lightsaber rose, the blue-white of the blade burning like a torch as it took the high guard.

Yet Sarad did not attack.

Instead he used the precious moments permitted him, the pause in combat wherein Aiden may not have expected Lorn Reingard to throw the vibroblade to center his mind. The Ochre in his gaze flashed, he filtered it down through his body, through his limbs. Flexing the fingers on his left hand he'd feel the pain of his wound begin to fade into numbness but there was still a weakness that still dwelt there born of torn and severed muscle and sinew.

His stance never broke, he was poised perfectly with his lightsaber maintaining its placement...

"Well---"

...he'd mutter before a smirk touched his mouth...

"---that was refreshing."

It may not have been Aiden but in Sarad's experience the Jedi weren't often apt to 'backstab' as it were which was something Sarad could appreciate.

The Ochre in his eyes had dimmed but only slightly, the energy used to dull his pain was minimal. He'd raise his left hand slowly, beckoning Aiden to come and meet him while his senses expanded to encompass the environment completely He'd feel Lorn and Sal Katarn fighting nearby, in the crater his descent had caused; he wouldn't be caught unaware again.

 

[Sal Katarn]

With a powerful push, it hurtled through the air toward the gunslinger. He didn't pause. Another, the husk of a mercenary still clutching a blaster, followed quickly. Armor scraps, shattered stone from the crater's lip, even the smoking remnants of a shattered droid turret. Everything became a weapon in his grasp. The air thickened with debris, each hurled piece a demand: stumble and yield.

A body struck Katarn and sent him bowling over into the obliterated paving stones beneath him. He scrabbled like a flipped tortoise, grunting with effort as he managed to shove the body off him just to nearly get hit by another.

“Fierfek,” he swore.

A chunk of stone smacked him in the right shoulder and his fingers went numb, the revolver slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. Katarn gasped with pain in the confines of his helmet, but a piece of armor smacked him in the helmet, right in the visor. Staggered, Sal tried to catch his bearings, but a hulking turret hit him dead on and Sal grunted, something cracking in his rib cage and grinding. Searing pain.

The mercenary grit his teeth. He’d seen dozens of battles, been around since the 830s. Maybe he’d lived too long. But he wasn’t going out without a fight.

He ran at Lorn Reingard , pieces of debris pelting him one after another, but he just kept on coming, battered and bruised with a rebel yell. He raised his left revolver and fired. A wash of thermite shards sprayed toward the leonine Jedi, then Katarn was on him, hunching low and aiming to ram his right shoulder - hell it was already a mess of bruising, into the man’s gut and then send them both toppling to the ground.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Objective 1A
Decarii Tithe | Liana Organa
Vs Tohu ​

Sibylla felt her breath catch then she shifted without thinkng, just acting, her arm sweeping back to try and tuck Liana behind her. The girl was trembling, but Sibylla didn't let herself dwell on it. If fear was eating her alive inside, then she would be the wall that held anyway.

The first shot hit Decarii's shield, the second slammed into hers. Sibylla flinched as the shield over the Karlini silk flared, silver ripples dancing across her body like water disturbed by a stone. Heat prickled against her skin, far too close, far too real.

The compact blaster slid out of her skirt and her arm shot up already pulling the trigger. She was no soldier, not her brother Cassian Abrantes with his years of drills and battlefield medals, but if she aimed centermass she might at least make him duck. And that was enough. Buy time. Buy one more chance to get them out alive.

"Go!" The word tore from her throat, louder and harsher than she expected, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Inside, now!"

Decarii's voice joined hers in a jagged chorus, the lawyer's blaster spitting wild bolts down the hall. Sibylla provided cover fire, backing toward the office doors, firing in tight bursts, each pull of the trigger shaking her arm, each flash of light searing her vision. Adrenaline churned in her veins, but so did something hotter: anger. At this man, at the bodies on the floor, at the sheer audacity of bringing slaughter into Naboo's heart.

Her hand rose to her ear almost without thought, clutching pearls she had worn countless times in chambers and galas. Tonight, they finally became something else.

The earring came free, the black and white spheres warming under her thumb as she activated their hidden charge.

Fiery hazel eyes locked on the scoundrel. Rage gave her voice its edge, but her chest was tight with fear.

"You should have taken the credits," she snarled out, her words trembling but shot out at Tohu with a righteous viciousness as the pearls left her hand in a clean arc, flying up and bouncing along the floor until they reached Tohu's feet.

Seemingly fragile and delicate, until they were not.

Each Heartbeat House stun and EMP pearls in the earring exploded in a three-meter radius, fully intending to stun the killer or negate any electronic item not hardened by EMP protection.

 

[Jaa Ardan]

​

"So tell me," Seldan continued, his voice quiet but firm. "Why are you here, Jaa Ardan? Looking for work with him? Doesn't smell right." He paused, then added, pointed as a knife: "Or is this that the pretty little Sal-Soren's game? You and her seem… close."

"Noticed that, did you?" Jaa asked, amused and with more than a touch of pride.

One would need to have been blind not to notice.

Jaa's introduction to Aurelian Veruna was too short to even be called brief. Even so, an observant eye would not have missed Jaa's finger tips falling gently from the small of Blaire's back when they first entered. An observant eye would've seen the well rehearsed nonchalance poorly papered over Jaa's discontentment while he watched Blaire offer the prince soft smiles, easy laughs, and increasingly hungry looks.

An observant eye would not have missed the way his eyes burned into hers when he gave over his side arm, nor the scornful look he received in return. A silent conversation only the two of them could understand. An observant eye would not have missed her indignation at his refusal to take the borrowed armor or the way her well manicured hand stopped short of touching his face the moment she remembered what room they were in.

An observant eye would spot the way neither of them spared a second glance for the other as Jaa swept out into the hall, borrowed rifle in tow, the silent conversation possibly the last they would ever have.

"My dad worked for hers," Jaa said, "and once upon a time I was to her what you are to Aurelian."

Jaa was aware of the man's gaze as he moved to take forward position. The back of neck started to itch from the intensity of the other man's scrutiny. Jaa kept his eyes and his rifle pointed down the corridor.

"I don't march with ghosts. You're either here for yourself, or you're here for someone else. Which is it?"

Jaa stopped and spared a moment to turn and face this stranger he patrolled with.

"Well, friend, this ain't a march is it? Just a quick walk and look to turn the power on, so you don't have to worry. As a matter of fact don't worry about me at all, okay? Don't concern yourself with my motivations, my middle name, my friends, my jock size or any other fucking thing about me." Jaa said, voice hard as durasteel.

Jaa had treated his partner's request for conversation earlier lightly enough. A few jokes to crack the tension never hurt and Jaa was not like to question how one settled their nerves. The last time he stalked through unfamiliar corridors with his rifle, he'd been paired with a Korun who kept himself even with the occasional bump of spice up the nose. Everyone's process was different. Now, however, Seldan's questions were beginning to stink like an interrogation and Jaa Ardan would be a Jedi before he stood getting grilled, by the help no less. Jaa hadn't particularly liked the comment Aurelian's man made about Blaire nor his insinuation that she were ill intentioned either.

Yes, the meeting with Aurelian had been Blaire's notion. Jaa had no desire in the least to pledge his service to House Veruna or any noble house for that matter. Not that any were lining up to take him on. Jaa Ardan was a long time away from Naboo and in that time away he had been her enemy. A member of an organization that had struck a campaign of terror on the planet on a number of occasions, Including unleashing a bio weapon on the populace and again later opening several portals to the netherworld, both instances leaving Naboo devastated.

Jaa was not involved in either attack personally, the group responsible was for all practical purpose eradicated, yet there would be no love for him on Naboo. He would be better off leaving and joining some merc company or becoming a bounty hunter or smuggler. Chit, there were darker places he knew he would be welcome as well. A man with his skill, experience, and stomach for the unsavory could carve out a life in the galaxy fairly easily, but it was Naboo that held his heart.

Were it not for Blaire. No, if it were just Blaire, Jaa would have never come back. He would've left her to her life of nobility and politics and playing power. It was for the children he had returned, he had told her as much. He no longer wished to change the galaxy. He had fought that fight and lost more than he was prepared to and now he had something he was never willing to lose. He told Blaire that he desired nothing more than to be a simple soldier, to be given the chance to serve the people who truly needed service, and to be able to see his children.

Blaire had taken upon herself to negotiate the meeting with Prince Veruna. He was King now after all and who better to stand in support of Jaa, she had said. Aurelian had the sway and support to restore Jaa's reputation, she'd said. Did she have her own self-serving purpose for attempting to secure his station in the new king's service? Surely so,still she shared no secrets with Jaa and why should she? He was the help after all. In the end Blaire Sal-Soren was like the rest of them.

"Are we clear or do we have–"

Jaa broke off mid sentence and flashed the barrel of his rifle down the corridor toward the engineering room. The steady rhythmic hum that had been drifting up the hall was interrupted violently by a heavy thud followed by a riotously loud cracking and churning.

Jaa killed the light from his rifle. It was useful in illuminating several yards in front of him but it made it impossible to see beyond that and right now he really needed to know what was happening down the hall. Four figures in the dark huddled together, appearing to be in the early stages of constructing something. The dark made it hard to tell. They were so close together they looked like some exotic creature with an unnerving amount of arms, legs, heads and a long beak or something.

Chit,

"Turret!" He called out. The thud had been the figures placing their heavy defense turret and the churning sound must be their attempt at drilling into the stone to anchor the thing. Jaa fired a shot in the dark and the shadow creature had one less head.

"They must be down here!" A very not human voice echoed from where the black sun bodies lay dead behind them.

They were trapped now. Rock and a hard place and all that.

Seldan Rourke

 

[Drystan Creed]

OBJECTIVE 1A

"I agree with the bounty hunter—and our avian companion." Drystan shrugged, expressionless beneath his half visor. Cold professionalism was something he knew well, and it didn't bother him in the slightest. Nor did Kingsley's habit of making little loot bags out of the fallen guardsmen left in the former Shadow's wake. If anything, Drystan seemed faintly amused—mildly intrigued at best.

"I have no interest in taking the King's head. I doubt he'd make interesting fare… even if I restrained myself." A pause, then a fleeting smile. Normally, he wouldn't mind following Quinn's lead—she was his employer, after all, and he had no issue playing a part in grander schemes when they didn't get in the way of his own pursuit of combat. But something told him detouring for the King would only delay their true goals.

"Though that bounty on his head is tempting, wouldn't you agree? It's almost as high as mine, if you can believe it." A passing thought, but nothing he gave any real weight.

The hallway soon opened into a wider expanse—a lobby of sorts. And judging from the shuffle of bootsteps, the flick of safeties being switched off, and the murmured commands echoing from the opposite hallways, they had stumbled right into a welcoming party.

Either someone had been expecting them… or they were just very unlucky. Intel had claimed this route would be lightly defended, but that clearly changed. Whether it was an on-the-fly adjustment or the security lead had known they were coming, the outcome was the same.

"Company. More small fry—hold that thought."

Drystan raised a hand as his senses caught something else. A presence that stood out from the run-of-the-mill grunts he'd encountered so far, heralded by the grating scrape of metal on stone—his mind isolating the sound amidst the thunder of jackboots. Something interesting hopefully.

He moved on instinct. The first pair of guards emerged from the shadows across the room, hands twitching for their guns—too late. Drystan flicked a finger, invisible telekinetic force snapping against their chins. Their heads jerked sideways with concussive force, brains rattled into unconsciousness as they crumpled.

Blaster fire from the others followed in retaliation.

Quinn Varanin Koda Fett Kingsley Dominique Vexx Kira Veylan Kalantha

 

[Blaire Sal-Soren]

Blaire's chest rose and fell rapidly while her heart felt like it was taking turns leaping from the pit of her stomach to her throat and back again as Aurelian stood ready to open the door to his office and venture out into whatever madness filled the assembly halls.

It was madness indeed. Power gone. Smoke filling the air, burning the lungs and stinging the eyes, it was an effort just to breathe. People ran in every direction looking to escape the danger or be the danger themselves. She kept her grip on Jaa's blaster tight, triple checking the safety was off and that she wasn't set to stun.

Blaire trailed a safe distance behind Aurelian and his guard as they attempted to regain some control.

Aurelian cut one attacker down and then another. He moved without fear or trepidation. His fury was righteous but controlled. He did not hack and slash at his foes but instead dispatched them with such efficiency that even she could not help but be impressed. He was a true King now, election or no election, his actions here spoke to his worthiness or at the least his willingness.

As they moved Blaire was forced to jump out of the way lest she be run over by a mob of frightened politicians and their staff.

In her haste to avoid being trampled her feet caught on a rather large something at her feet, sending her stumbling and spilling to the floor. Hands and knees hurting from attempting to catch her fall, she glanced over to see what had taken her down. A balding grey haired man in a red shirt lay stock still on the stone floor, eyes shut. Dead or unconscious she could not say.

Blaire rushed to the man, crawling on her hands and knees, ignoring the pain from the stone floor. The chaos continued oblivious to her as she crawled, desperately to reach the man and provide what help she could. Blaire was a fairly competent field medic and not very far removed from practice, either. The events of Sepan-8 burned brightly in her memory. She reached the fallen man and gasped in horrible realization.

It was Mr. Kentavious! He'd worked in this building for ages and ages. Blaire could remember coming here on occasion with her father when she was a little girl and getting sweets from Mr. Kentavious, whose hair back then was thin, not bald and the color of straw not grey. There was a part of her that wished to weep as she sank onto the stone. There was naught to be done for the kindly old man who'd shared candy with her. His chest did not rise, his eyes did not flutter, and as it turned out upon her now closer inspection, his shirt was white and had simply been turned red from a presumably heinous wound Blaire was not inclined to find.

One of Aurelian's guards clad in his armor came and extended a hand to lift her form where she despaired.

She began to voice her thanks before being struck dumb by the sight of a gleaming silver knife point sticking out the front of the man's neck. A small spray of blood spritzed from the wound directly at Blaire, a small number of drops finding purchase on her cheek and the front of her clothes. Most, however, were simply sizzled away on her shielding, nearly gagging her from the smell.

She fell back to the ground scooting away from the grisly scene on her back side. The now dead or dying guard fell away from his attacker, a deranged looking weequay, blade still stuck in his neck the weequay unable to pry it loose and seeming unaware that Blaire was there at all. She aimed the blaster Jaa had forced on her and pulled the trigger twice. Once would've been plenty. Her first shot took the alien in the face. Her second would've as well had there still been a face to strike.

Blaire pushed herself to her feet.

The King gave orders to his men. Blaire could not hear his words over the blood rushing in her head and the hammering of her heart. She gave small thanks to Shiraya, grateful that she had yet to grow accustomed to killing.

The King had given his orders and now he and his men were on the move seemingly without a thought spared for her. For half a heartbeat she wondered if she should just lock herself in Aurelian's office and hope to be left alone, or perhaps she could find a way outside. She had no idea what was outside. There was no guarantee safety would be found outside these walls. There could be an army out there or anything really.

She checked her blaster for a fourth time and followed after her King.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Aurelian Veruna | Equipment: xxx |​

 

[Nero Drake]

SHIRAYA JEDI TEMPLE
NABOO
Ran Serys et al.

Their swords resounded with a clarion ring. Sparks and molten slag drizzled like rain off each blade. She was good. Remarkable footwork saved the Jedi's life before Nero could finish her off and now she wielded two blades. The pirate let her back off while he weighed the odds.

"They don't answer to me, love." Nero shook his head, "They answer to the Madclaw. You can discuss surrender with our captain once he's dug up his pieces of eight but I'm afraid he's not as reasonable as I am."

Nero pulled out a glass vial from inside his longcoat and injected himself with a fluorescent green substance. Hutt venom burned through his veins like an inferno. Adrenals spiked the young raider's heartrate until it was pounding in his ears. Time felt slower as each of his senses came alive. Jedi were fast and strong and could take a beating and now so could he.

The worst Ran could do was kill him but if Nero ran from this fight the Madclaw would pull his arms out of their sockets. Wookiees had been known to do that.

"Let's see if you know how to fight with durasteel in your hands."

He came at her again but this time Nero feinted. It was fast, almost Jedi fast, the way he shifted course to lash out again at Ran's vulnerable lightsaber before reversing the move to parry her other blade. His mind raced on the adrenals playing out their next few moves depending on how she reacted. Not quite precognition but close enough to challenge even a Jedi's reflexes.

 

[Liana Organa]

Sibylla Abrantes - Decarii Tithe - Tohu - Cassian Abrantes ​

Liana saw the shot coming before the gun was even raised, but was still the last to react to it. She tried to blurt out a warning but it was too late by the time she could compose a sentence. Both of her companions reacted with actions rather than words. Each of them took a hit, thankfully only impacting their personal shield. Sibylla and Decarii both scrambled for weapons, giving them a bit of covering fire and a chance to move. Liana did as instructed without thinking, like a machine on autopilot. She'd never had to act in a situation like this before, and she recognized that failure to decide was going to cost one or all of them.

So as they made their way into the office once more, Liana willed herself into becoming useful. The visions were coming faster, distractingly so, like the tension of the moment cost her all control. But in a flash of clarity, she reached up and deftly snatched the comlink out of the air as Decarii threw it at her. She looked down at the device, as if surprised that she caught it.

“Call the guards, get them down here. Tell them to send all of ‘em - I don’t care who else is trouble. We need shooters, and we need them now, got it!?”

Liana crouched behind the desk, holding the comlink close to her face, "Hello? Hello?! Can anyone read this channel?! Three of us are trapped in the office of Sybilla Abrantes! We are under attack by a lone intruder! If anyone can hear me, please help!" She kept sending distress calls for as long as the circumstances would permit, or until someone managed to answer.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Sal Katarn | Sars Sarad | Aiden Porte​

The thunder of crashing bodies and stone echoed through the crater. Lorn's chest heaved, his jaw locked against the searing pain in his shoulder and the fresh burns. He poured himself into the barrage, each hurled corpse and shattered bit of temple courtyard obeying his will. Then, one struck true. The gunslinger staggered, the impact shaking him, and a revolver spun from his numb hand, clattering against the fractured stones.

A flicker of grim triumph lit Lorn's eyes. His free hand lashed out, the Force coiling around the weapon like a tether. With a sharp yank, the heavy pistol flew into his grasp. He immediately turned it, the alien weight feeling awkward compared to his saber, but it would have to do.

He lifted the pistol. The moment the muzzle found Sal Katarn's center, fire erupted from the other man's gun. Thermite shards streaked through the dust and smoke, a hiss of molten light. Lorn twisted, boots grinding on broken stone, and the wave scorched past his ribs. The heat clawed at his side, enough to blister, but not to break him. He bared his teeth, snapping the stolen revolver up.

Click. Nothing. The trigger locked stiff beneath his finger, unyielding. Was it jammed? Or the safety on? The weapon was foreign, its workings obscure in his frantic grip. His stomach tightened with frustration, the opening slipping away.

Then Sal slammed into him like a durasteel wall. The impact stole his breath in a brutal rush, the armored shoulder driving into his gut. They tumbled, the world a blur of dirt and fire, the revolver spinning from Lorn's hand as both men crashed to the ground. Dust rose in choking clouds, pain jolting up Lorn's spine, his body screaming from both the acid burns and the blow.

He didn't stay down. He rolled with the fall, instincts screaming, and twisted hard in the chaos, trying to wrench himself atop the mercenary. His knee drove down, fighting for leverage. His fists, empty and unarmed, drove low and fast. He jabbed at Sal's midsection, hammering toward the weak points between armor plates, aiming for the bruised ribs that maybe he'd heard crack beneath the turret's weight. Each strike was raw, desperate, fueled by the battle-forged resolve of a man who had bled on too many killing fields to let this be his last.

 

[Seldan Rourke]

Jaa's reply hit Seldan like a physical blow, though he didn't flinch. The words were sharp and unyielding. Seldan's jaw tightened; his faint smirk vanished, and with it, any hint of humor. Only cold determination remained in his dark eyes.

He disliked everything about Jaa's outburst: the aggressive tone, the underlying anger, and the raw truth it exposed. Seldan judged people by their resilience under pressure, rather than their superficial appeal. Jaa Ardan had wit and bore his own share of scars, but his words, thrown out like knives, carried a dangerous recklessness. Such recklessness led to deaths, even of kings.

"Noted," Seldan said, his voice dropping to a low, cold tone. His gaze swept over Jaa with the same sharp scrutiny he'd given the Black Sun corpses only moments before. "Let's be clear. I don't have the luxury of 'not worrying.' My oath is to the crown, not to your personal feelings. And if you think a few sharp words will earn my trust, you're far more naive than you appear."

His words weren't cruel, but they carried profound weight, the burden of a man who had buried too many comrades. Seldan turned back to the corridor, rifle already up, his body shifting into a defensive stance. He moved like a living barricade. Jaa received no further glance; there was no time for it, with danger pressing in.

The word "turret" galvanized him, snapping Seldan into action before the sound could even fully echo. He slammed his back against the closest support pillar, rifle coming up. Down the hall, the thudding clank of metal plates being secured carried clearly, punctuated by the screech of a power drill biting into stone. A low, mechanical whine began to rise as the turret's systems powered on, eager for targets.

"Of course it's a turret," Seldan muttered, a flicker of bitter humor returning, as it always did when faced with impossible odds. He leaned out, sighted down the dark corridor, and fired two disciplined bursts. Sparks flew as his bolts scarred the armored plating, but the turret whirred on, its targeting sensor swiveling like a predatory eye.

"Cover!" he barked, his voice cutting through the rising noise. The next second, a storm of red bolts screamed down the hall. The turret spat fire with the fury of a dozen rifles, and the wall beside Seldan's head exploded into shards of stone. He instinctively ducked back, teeth bared, the air thick and hot with ozone. The shield on Seldan's hip flared, absorbing a glancing bolt, but he knew it wouldn't hold against a sustained barrage. He pressed harder into the stone pillar, his armor clinking softly as his practiced hands quickly reloaded his rifle.

"We can't hold this choke point," Seldan growled. "That thing will chew us to pieces." Sweat trickled down his temple, glistening faintly in the ghostlight of his shield. His breathing remained calm and steady, even as his pulse hammered in his ears. "We flank it, or we die here." He leaned out just enough to send another volley downrange, precise bursts intended to keep the enemy pinned, even if he knew they wouldn't truly damage the turret. The return fire hit like a hammer blow, illuminating the corridor in furious, strobing flashes. Dust filled the air, acrid and choking.

In the bursts of light, Seldan's face appeared, scarred brow furrowed, teeth gritted. He was a man forged in war. He turned his head towards Jaa, his voice booming to be heard over the thunder of blasterfire. "You said you keep pushing forward, Corellian. Prove it. Find us a way around here. I'll keep this bastard's eye on me."

Seldan shifted, planting himself more firmly against the pillar, squaring his shoulders. He was the shield first, the weapon second. His rifle spat another burst, briefly illuminating his grim features. "Move, damn you!" Seldan roared, his voice carrying the raw conviction of a man with no patience for hesitation, especially not with the Senate crumbling and the crown hanging in the balance. The turret's bolts carved fire into the stone around him, but Seldan stood firm. His body, a living riot shield, braced against the storm, allowing someone else the chance to strike the killing blow.

Jaa Ardan​