Faction Operation: Save Lanik! ( PM to Join )

[Kolson Vrask]

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"What a shame..." The Chiss sounded out in apathetic placidity as he saw the Nightbrother felled at the hands of the Pitborn. With it that he finally reached forward to the dark visage of the Purge staring back at him atop the prison control console. IIII III uniform white dashes marked on the back section of the helmet's skull cap served a grim indicator of the Jedi felled at Wirm's hands. Only three or four of them were bested in single combat - the rest utilizing clever traps and ambushes to catch the undisturbed force sense off guard and bring a less than glorious end to the unsuspecting cloaks. Should the Chiss be tactful enough this day - the seventh slave sold at that fateful day at Shot Kuffa might be the ninth mark. Every man has their number.

"Two triads in sector 5-C ; set the trap." Wirm ordered ; sicking a wolf's pack worth of his Purge into the next chamber on the otherside of the heavy blast doors the opposite end of the corridor Sev burned through the Zabrak in. Behind astrewn storage crates the Purge Commandos took up post - silent and unsensed by the jedi knight with smoke traps rigged to the main blast door. Blasters and disruptors trained on the door as soon as it hissed open the clatter of metallic canisters rolling astrewn across the floor sounded out before soon enough the room was filled with harsh gray smoke.

Blinded within the visible spectrum the Force itself offered little reprieve, laying out a nigh empty room with several supply crates stacked astrewn before soon enough scrambled vocals cut through the air.

"S^W@I*T#C&H T^O T*H!E&R*M#A$L@S - O&P^E*N F!I%R^E." Indiscernable to any who weren't linked to the section's internal helmet comms the order was given off before soon enough blaster bolts of crimson began to rip through the thick smoke toward the Jedi, one even hugging the wall to his right before taking aim down the sights of his 'Inferos' sending a scattershot of disruptor energy toward the Jedi. Appearing from sudden nothingness - the Purge made its presence known.​

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Sev Pitborn ​

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[Lanik Dawnstar]

Ambiance

Eyes finally opening for the first time in days the icy orbs took in the interior of the chamber where he’d been placed. Once more Lanik found himself in a torture room, his arms pinned out to his sides by durasteel clamps. The Table tilted back and at a diagonal angle so the Jedi could still glance down and see the torture tools that aligned the table. The torture droid had not seemed to register that the Jedi had yet come back to consciousness.

Each breath Lanik took ached his chest, his mouth dry from once more being put through days without food or water. Many of the cuts and burn marks that adorned Lanik’s body had been unkempt and began to fester with signs of infection. Even the mere touch of a breeze caused them to sting. Snow white hair fell into the Jedi’s face obscuring it from sight. No more was Lanik the proud warrior of a Jedi but a dilapidated prisoner.

The room itself seemed to spin, the only reason the Jedi had survived was entering a meditation state that lingered on the very edge of death. Mind clear for once, the drugs having once obscured his ability to use the force having not been administered before the prisoner transfer. Lanik could finally feel the embrace of the force again, its cool calming presence enshrouding him much like a mother would their child. Though more than the force he felt something else, no he felt people and they were not the dark auras of Sith. No, they were the brilliant beacons of the Jedi.

“No no no no, they can’t be here.” The words drew the droid's attention, its yellow photoreceptors landing upon the hapless Jedi. There was no sympathy offered from the metal construct, instead one of its arms lowered down to the table for one of the numerous syringes that lined it.

“Log 274 Jedi seems to have awakened, am once more sedating him.” The droid said, creating a log of the incident and its actions. The droid moved with a preternatural speed, that seemed almost unfit for it. The droid approached, one of its appendages grabbing Lanik’s jaw and turning his head while the other sought to stab the syringe home.

The hypodermic stopped a mere centimeter from Lanik’s skin. Even doing something as simple as stopping it was a strain on the exhausted Jedi. Eyes narrowing, sweat forming on his head Lanik envisioned the needle twisting and it did, his will manifested. Jerking his head free of the droids grip Lanik’s headshot towards it and all the experiences of Kintan, all the emotions he’d felt, all the lives lost, they formed into a solid wall of might that slammed into the droid.

Hurtling through the air to slam into the wall with a deafening crash. Unable to examine his handwork Lanik’s body went limp on the table. Yet the Jedi’s mouth still moved the words “It’s a trap.” constantly repeated yet inaudible.

Ryv | Darth Voyance | Bernard of Arca

 

[Gabriel Pryce]

The Jedi scattered. The approach to the prison ship revealed they would have to fight through a Star Destroyer to get to Lanik. Oren had spent her fair share of time aboard Sith Star Destroyers both as a prisoner and as crew on deep cover missions for the Galactic Alliance Jedi Order and so when the Jedi had split paths she made her way to the engine block. The Sith Troopers weren't much issue for her, though she did have a few close calls in a turbolift shaft. She tried her best to simply disarm and incapacitate the troopers, but with their blasters set to high power kill there wasn't much she could do about stray bolts.

Now she found herself crawling through a ventilation shaft inching her way towards engineering. The dark, dank maintenance shaft was made for droids, not people especially not people with long braids. She had thought about cutting them many times but they were a badge of pride for her. She chuckled thinking about pride and the Dark Side. They always did say that Shadows toed the closest to the Dark Side.

"I doubt they were thinking about vanity though," she mused as she tugged a braid lose from a stray bolt. She grunted as she pulled herself forward as she spotted a grate that should drop into engineering. Once she was there she'd be able to make it to the engine room and the hyperdrive and if they wanted to save Lanik and not get trapped deep behind Sith space those needed to get shut down.

Vaulkhar

 

[Romi Jade]

“Romi… Lanik must come home.”

She nodded.

"So let's get him back..."

Moments later...

Snap-hiss!

She'd been waiting deep in their formation.

Her lightsaber's glowing blade swooping in an up-turning circular motion as she worked the field.

Her lightsaber streamed up to meet each attack. She spun and stepped in to add force to each parry, and the scarlet blade sheered through descending bolts. An eerie chorus of squeals arose as rounds went off, and the haze grew heavy with the bitter smell of scorched everything. More bolts began to sizzle down all around Romi who was whirling and dancing across the floor, dodging incoming fire and deflecting it into the ground beside her feet.

A twitch of her eye -- she came to a revelation just as she traced scarlet snakes in her determination to stonewall any stray fire.

While they were able to advance, it wasn't enough for her. With what was at stake..."Gotta get moving." She broke into a light jog.

She made a solid drive forward, stepping wide with a saber motion to match. Cutting out of the formation, she swung her body around in the other direction and after the conclusion of three steps she was busy, spinning and somersaulting her way through a path she was carving herself; she moved her scarlet lightsaber through a wild blur of motion. With a flick of her wrist she wove her own web without stopping.

The last bolt she caught mid-air as she fell from a spin that placed her ahead of her group; she was on her own path.

Lengthening her stride, she used her momentum to vault upward. She spun in the air and snapped up her foot sideways, catching an imperial at the base of the chin. There would be a good amount of kinetic force transmitted through the helmet, rocking his head. She staggered away, and fell back -- having knocked out enough beings to be certain this one wouldn't faking his unconsciousness, she continued on.

Romi spied lone figures breaking away from the fighting rather than fully engaging, though before any attempt at action she found herself stopping to scan the several corridor openings and again spotted her prey attempting to disappear around technical high wall and pillars.

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Darth Voyance
Aaran Tafo
Amaranth
Wyatt Morga

 

[Sev Pitborn]

The blast door shot open before Sev. Within the blink of an eye, several smoke bombs exploded, hissing as they sent plumes of choking smoke rolling outwards. Sev drew his saber with lightning speed, as his senses sounded the dread alarm. He began to block blaster bolts, before the fire became overwhelming, forcing him to dive blindly to one side. He cowered behind a crate, fire raging around him, scrambled vocalizations mixing with the sound of weaponry to create a horrifying symphony. Sev attempted to reach out with The Force, trying to sense the locations of his obscured assailants. This action proved useless. He sensed nothing. The fire seemed to come from nowhere. The breath of the Force was silent within whatever beings were attacking him. Droids perhaps?

Sev felt a pit of dread fill his stomach as the vocalizations grew rapidly closer. He could hear heavy footfalls clanging on the durasteel floor as his attackers moved up on him. Grounding himself, Sev drew a concussion grenade from his bandoleer and blindly tossed it over the crate, before rapidly pulling a cryoban grenade and chucking it directly after. He heard scrambled vocalizations react, before the deafening crack of the first grenade filled the room and deafened Sev's hearing. He drew his lightsaber, ears ringing and stood up just in time to see the icy flash of the cryoban grenade freeze two mysterious figures before him. The were frozen in place, wearing menacing dark armor and carrying exotic blasters.

Sev charged, his speed augmented by the Force, slamming his fist into the nearest frozen attacker, shattering it's menacing visage like glass. The incoming fire immediately became overwhelming again, the tell tale shriek of disruptors sounding distinctly among the rapport of blaster fire. Sev knew he was near helpless against accurate disruptor fire and abandoned his aggressive action, diving once again behind cover. He drew two ion grenades, activating both and launching them blindly over his flimsy cover once again. The tell tale blast of their detonation filled Sev with the confidence needed to attempt another attack. He leapt from behind the crate, soaring through the thick smoke towards his attackers. A couple of the mysterious commandos were locked in place like statues, their exoskeletons shorted out by the ion grenades. Even still, Sev had several active targets before him. He landed in front of one of the purge commando's, swinging his saber at his shoulder. The blade contacted the cortosis weave armor and fizzled out. Sev felt as if someone had dumped a bag of gravel into his stomach as he watched the weapon deactivate. As he paused, the purge commando punched him in the chest, his enhanced fist sending Sev flying through the air. Sev felt a stinging pain in his chest, the blow had undoubtedly broken several ribs. Adrenaline pushed him through the pain as he called on the Force, attempting to throw the commando telekinetically. The dark soldier didn't budge. A wall of blaster bolts and diruptor shots screamed towards Sev as he summoned all of his strength to form a protective barrier, freezing the projectiles in the air, then sending them flying away a moment later.

Sev used the momentary distraction to summon more strength, and began raising the heavy crates into the air, whipping them around him at great speed, creating a menacing cyclone of heavy objects, smashing and crushing the troopers in range. Each breath Sev took burned his lungs, and eventually he could no longer sustain such a potent onslaught. The crates fell from the air at once with a ringing thud. More troopers had been incapacitated, yet their ruthless attack continued, the troopers closest to the exit still in cover and firing. Sev mustered his strength and rolled behind cover once again, grabbing his last two grenades, both concussion, and launching them towards the troopers...

Kolson Vrask

 

[Delilah Brujav]

This wasn't an amateur group of rebels, how disappointing. On the plus side, they could entertain her for a bit. Losing the lock on her missiles, Delilah was forced to admit that the X-Wing had better maneuverability than her fighter, but she had far more tools to call upon than the rebel pilots had at hand. The droid brain operating her topside gun took over, as it would throw out shoots to the fighter trying to close in behind the captain. She new well enough what was coming, and it was time to lose the one ship pestering her. "Zakkeg Squadron, try and pull them back towards the Embrace. Don't let them bunch up on you, double team if you have to, call out if you need it." The X-Wing had shot upwards, and she knew better than to try and counter act him; bait the trap, then strike she thought. She corkscrewed down and around, before banking back to give chase to the fighter that had tried to move in behind her, as the shots sailed over head. The droid brained fired off several shots as the fighter passed over head, scorching the bottom of the fighter before a pair of fighters moved in for the kill. Seeing as how she couldn't reengage, she found another target, an X-Wing breaking off right towards her.

She couldn't deny the challenge. She accepted the duel, as the two pilots began exchanging volleys. Delilah twisted the fighter to the side, as the droid brain re-targeted on the approaching target. She glanced down, seeing the deflector shields were holding, and knew what as to follow. She focused on getting the lock, seeing they were approaching dangerous territory, as Delilah kept her fighter just out of reach from the X-wings blasts. Getting the lock, she fired off the concussion missiles and peeled off, as the blast slammed tip first into the fighters view screen. She veered around, just in time to see Zakkeg Three and Four be taken out. Her victory was soured, as the annoyance grew. She spotted the fighter that had killed one of her own yet again, the same one that had evaded her before. She could engage him, but the fighter that had cost her two of her men, she could get to taking them out. She hailed them, as a message would be reached by Saber Five. "If you want your second attempt on me, then this is your chance. Show me how good you are." She expected another pilot might join in, and she readjusted the deflector shield to account for that. Delilah made a b-line towards them, her fighter slowly rotating as the secondary guns began to fire, aiming to keep her target pinned in her sights. Pretty soon she'd be on her own, and that would be a death sentence, even if she was skilled. She needed to get the tides turned and quick.

Maynard Treicolt

 

[Bernard of Arca]

Heavy clouds of grey painted the night sky, obscuring the brilliant stars with a blanket like snow. The wind's quiet whistle fell over soft hills, which almost mirrored the white above in appearance. The quiet melody was accompanied by wheezing breaths, muted and sharp. Half-obscured within the layer of white lay a young boy. His face was ringed by the fur of a cold-weather jacket. Black ash stained his face, standing in stark contrast to the pristine white snow subtly sparkling crystalline in what little light broke through the cover of clouds. Milky eyes gazed up. Above he saw reflected the very hills he lay upon, believing to observe the surface of another world, a mirror of his own. Coughing broke the repetitive pattern of wheezes. Snow shook loose as his right arm stirred slowly, rising until it reached for the clouds, small flocks of snow falling loose. A blue glove covered his hand. He splayed his fingers weakly.

The four points seemed to sink into the snow-covered clouds. The cold slowly crept around his fingers. They curled, slowly closing into a fist, trapping frigid air that felt tangible as he grasped the sky. Once his hand was a feeble fist the sensation faded, leaving only cold wind trapped between his fingers; elusive clouds already poured and gone from between the blue fabric. The hand lingered above him for several long moments, before finally falling to his side again. Using his lower arms as support, he lifted himself up from the ground, a small avalanche of snow had accumulated on his chest. He gazed towards a small plume of smoke in the distance. With a cough, he brought himself to his feet.

White eyes opened to the sight of many figures. Jedi, all of them, ready to save a stolen son of their Order. The sheer determination was almost oppressive. It passed through him like a tidal wave, sweeping with it any doubts that clung to his conscious self. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. The sight of so many of his fellow Jedi brought comfort to his mind. Their unity of purpose brought a sense of certainty and focus that made it seem impossible for their task to fail. But it was not a sense of bravado, rather a sense of inevitability on a scale grander than any of them individually. It was a cosmic strength, as though nothing but the patience of the Light could ever truly exist.

He could feel the corner of his mouth reflexively tugging into a smile ever so slightly in the face of such determination as he stared at the durasteel floor. The voice of Alana Sunrider, their pilot, brought his attention back to the mission at hand, however. His expression assumed an impartial neutrality again, though the collective warmth of the Light lingered. They were here to rescue a Jedi and they would return to Peace with many more than they departed with, on that his mind was set.

He took a final deep breath before rising to his feet, stretching his limbs as he did. Spending hours sitting still in meditation was perhaps not the best preparation, but he had much to meditate upon. He let the Force course through him, relax his muscles and ease their tension as he heard the footsteps of the Jedi around the ship. He came to the landing ramp as one of the last. Though he was far from inexperienced in the art of combat, with Masters and Knights of the calibre that had accompanied them, he felt it more effective for them to take the lead in the hangar’s capture.

By the time his own blade cast its nigh-white hue over the durasteel floor the fighting had mostly died down, save for a few stragglers at the edges about to be subdued. He found Ryv and BD quickly, the kiffar’s unusual sense of dress for a Jedi made him stand out, something that Bernard mirrored himself in a way. He arrived just after another familiar face got to the Jedi - Droid duo. Nodding towards both as a brief greeting, he assumed a battle-ready stance. Though the hangar had been mostly pacified, reinforcements could be on their way and he’d make sure they were not caught off guard.

For a brief moment he could feel a faint beacon of Light within the sea of Dark around them. Foreign distress echoed at the edges of his mind, a premonition of danger or perhaps mere paranoia grew and then abated just as quickly. The Light was close to being suffocated by the ship’s occupant’s inherent malevolence, but he could feel it struggle on. Too faint to guide them, but enough to give him hope.

"He's still alive." The arkanian said, his voice quiet.

Ryv Aaran Tafo Lanik Dawnstar

 

[Lirka Ka]

Through the rolling tides of the force walked a dead void, it followed Lirka’s advance: it became increasingly difficult to actually hide her presence from force users: though truthfully, it was only a coward‘s trick to hide. Let the Jedi know wrath was coming for them. And in the ususal “comedic” nature that came with Lirka’s bravado, the moment she walked out of a door and came across Jend-Ro Quill , a stun blast launched into her chest plate.

The monster that was Lirka staggered, her armor compensated where it was able and sheer brute will kept her going for the rest. A low growl came out of her blank faced helm in response:

“Insolent whelp!”

With that, Lirka unsheathed a blade: a stupidly long weapon for a stupidly large alien, easily the size of most men and glistening of songsteel, before it burned to life with emerald flame. Electro-Plasma Filament, the most wondrous invention for anyone trying to hack a Jedi into burning chunks. She didn’t stay there long, bounding forward with a speed that a creature of her size shouldn’t have been able to muster, bringing her blade down in an arcing slash. The combat stims pumping through her body, her heart pounding wildly in her chest: one thought filling her mind.

Kill Maim Burn

Kill Maim Burn

Kill Maim Burn

 

[Kolson Vrask]

"%W^A#T$C*H @T&H^O#S!E% *G%R#E^N!A&D$E#S^!" Sounded out in gravelly distortion from the comms systems of one of the Purge Commandos - unflinching after he witnessed two of his comrades frozen in place from CryoBan - only to plant a crushgaunt fist in the chest of the Jedi, the unnerving sound of bone and muscle absorbing the blow sounding out through the hellish volleys of blaster and disruptor particles toward the Jedi Knight.

Only two remained of the six sent to assail the Jedi. Two had frozen in place from cryo and two had frozen in place and died almost instantly from the intense ion energy surging the powered exoskeletons beneath their cortosis weaved duraplast armor plates. When the whirlwind of crates began to fill the air the Purge had little choice but halt their advance, slowly peeling away from the Jedi's position behind another supply crate with wary steps.

The two frozen in place were shattered from force enhanced blows of the flailing crates leaving only two of the elite force-dead troopers trapped in the room with the Jedi knight. The concussion grade serving a coup-de-grace in bursting their aural dampeners, sending them stuttering back, collapsing to their knees as they continued to levy firepower toward the Jedi's position - though the bursts from only two blasters might not be enough to keep him pinned in his position - leaving an avenue of progress to the Pitborn only invigorating urgency in the jedi when the horrific chorus of the ever increasing frequency of a thermal detonator's beeps landed behind the Jedi's piece of cover with a metallic clatter.

Wordlessly the Chiss readied himself for the Jedi's advance - the performance of his Commandos wasn't so much disappointing as it was enlightening. The Jedi knight lived and often died by the lightsaber. Seeing one dip himself in shades of the very same philosophy to which Wirm implement to hunt their kind but turned against them was an interesting observation. Regardless - it seemed all but certain that he would have to face the Knight himself, and a competent one at that. Expended of his grenades and starved for energy - the Chiss would be waiting. Still and cold - his presence null in the force just like his subordinates, one with the Purge.

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Sev Pitborn

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Lirka Ka

The Sith or Sithspawn moved quicker than Quill would have liked. That sword looked equally unpleasant. Quill dropped the sidearm and met the slash with a two-handed block. The plasmatic filament hissed against his lightsaber, transferring the full and jolting force of the strike. The impact carried through crisply. Quill's right knee hit the deck.

He wasn't much of a talker at the best of times, let alone during a fight. The only response she got was a grunt and a quick slash at the inside of her nearest knee. He doubted the saber would get through one way or another. The goal was to buy himself some time to backpedal and regain a reasonably mobile stance. There was only so much he could do this low, other than get his face ripped off.

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev had once again retreated to cover, his chest burning with pain as he drew each breath. The troopers had been stunned by his last grenades but maintained their composure well enough to continue firing. Luckily, the last two commandos were wielding only blasters. Sev reactivated his lightsaber, relieved when it screamed to life from the hilt, it's familiar blue glow gave Sev the confidence to advance.

As Sev stood, a thermal detonator landed behind him, beeping rapidly. Sev quickly threw the grenade back towards the troopers using the Force, but it exploded halfway through the air, merely stunning them for a moment. Mustering his strength, Sev charged the disoriented troopers, deflecting their blaster fire expertly and he moved. As he approached, still deflecting fire, he raised one of the larger crates with the Force and smashed one of the troopers with it like an insect. The massive crate crushed the trooper into the durasteel floor, immobilizing him as Sev then launched the crate into the other soldier, pinning him to a wall, his exoskeleton shorting out from the extreme impact, sending sparks flying as the soldier slumped.

With all of these mysterious operators now incapacitated, Sev dropped to a knee. He deactivated his lightsaber and leaned forward on his hands, catching his breath and using The Force to soothe his pain as best he could. He felt the warm and loving embrace of the Force surge through him as he closed his eyes, the pain subsiding ever so slightly. Sev knew he had no time to truly recover. His friends were counting on him, and he was on the cusp of his goal. After a moment, he rose to his feet and walked tall to the locked door in front of him.

He once again sliced the console. The door slid open, revealing a menacing control room, covered in all manner of monitors and consoles, controlling every aspect of this cosmic prison. In the middle of the room, stood a single trooper. His armor identical to the others, save for the markings of an officer. Once again, Sev had not sensed his presence. The mysterious figure stood as a wound in the Force, a shadow slithering through its endless waves.

Sev spoke, hoping to avoid more bloodshed.

"You saw what I did to your men. Step aside. I won't ask you again. I just want to free the prisoners, you can walk away." Sev's gut told him that this appeal would be folly, but his Jedi training compelled him to parlay regardless.

Kolson Vrask

 

[Avernus]

All of the troops and crew had scrambled to the proper stations, leaving many of the ship's corridors and walkways eerily empty and quiet as Avernus and Vaulkhar descended towards engineering. Though he had originally intended to make his way to the hangars, it became apparent that other parts of the ship would be more logical targets, while the hangars were merely a point of entry. He had sealed the bridge's blast doors and ordered the detachment he was originally going to have accompany him to guard the bridge. Call it a hunch, or a feeling, but Avernus was sure engineering would be a target. Why wouldn't it be? It was obvious that the Jedi were here to free their kind from The Embrace, so why wouldn't they want to compromise engineering, or even reposition the ship?

He let his emotions swell, quietly psyching himself up for what was to come. He called upon his hatred for the Jedi, their pedestrian asceticism, and their hollow wisdom. He held it all in the front of his mind, ready to convert it into power and aggression to unleash upon the ship's assailants. He began to walk faster as his anger and anticipation began to take over. He pivoted on his heels at a three-way intersection of corridors and made a beeline directly for the large durasteel doors to engineering.

He hadn't turned to or even said a word to Vaulkhar on the way here. He was a good listener for when Avernus' prattled on in boredom to pass the time, but he never came off as much as a talker. It wasn't like they had too much to talk about either, they both knew what they were doing and where they were going. Words between the two would have been a waste of breath in this situation, and a distraction from the focusing of negative emotion for Avernus. He finally graced Vaulkhar with one glance as they reached the door, making sure he had no objections before he began to access the door control panel.

Vaulkhar | Wyatt Morga | Gabriel Pryce​

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He split up.

Not entirely the best idea when one considered the situation. Outnumbered by Imperial Troopers. On a ship he was unfamiliar with. Having no real idea where he was going aside from vague impressions of a distant pain. Running alongside Ryv and Bernard of Arca he stopped in his tracks. Quickly turning to his friends. "Stay safe. I'm off to go cause some trouble." He said, giving both of his fellow Padawans a two-fingered salute before dashing off.

Grouping up would only attract more attention to such a small group. He was better off splitting up from the others. Bernard could keep an eye on Ryv. Ryv had a good enough head on his shoulders to get everyone home safe.

Aaran on the other hand. Was off to go do what he did best. Cause trouble.

He would bring as many troopers as he could down on his head. Buying time and causing enough of a distraction for the heat to be taken off his friends. Saber lashing out in every direction. Carving through panels on walls, gouging out doors, leaving a trail of petty destruction and vandalism to lead any troopers towards him. Burning brightly so his friends could sneak around unseen.

It took some minutes. Running through endless corridors. Downing several troopers as he dashed past, causing all sorts of mischef and mayhem as he made his way. Finally rounding a corner, he ran into a familiar face.

"Master Jade." He said, nodding once to the Hapes native. Moving turning around to look behind him. "Fancy meeting you here." He said, a slight grin of audacity on his face. "I'm looking to cause a bit of a mess. Care to join me?"

---------------------------------------------
Romi Jade
Darth Voyance
Amaranth

 

[Lirka Ka]

A wide grin pierced under Lirka’s helm, the Jedi struggled. Good. She enjoyed watching her prey suffer, as their inferior forms gave them weakness: where they could never compare to the closest beacon to military perfection this Galaxy would ever seen. The drugs pumped harder in her veins, reality twisting before her: Jedi altered between a dozen different opponents and the battlefield changed to a dozen different worlds she had fought on during her long life. An unfortunate side effect, but manageable.

Jend-Ro Quill could be given one thing to be optimistic about though, though Lirka did release her blade from their clash after she saw that saber strike out, moving back to the best of her ability. A fiery slash was burned into the armored plate, she was not quite so invulnerable. But, it offered just as many things to hate. A low and hateful growl came from the beast.

”I just fixed that, Jedi trash.”

Using the pain to fuel her, molten metal turning some of her undersuit to liquid that clung to the pale flesh beneath her blade launched out in a flurry of vicious blows, if nothing else, just trying to throw the saber from the pitiful mortal’s hands with the sheer brute strength behind each one.

 

[Ryv]

Quiet excitement burned within Ryv's small-frame. The search for Lanik had gone on since his disappearance, with many of Peace's assets dedicated to the missing warrior. Despair set in for many when Lanik was not initially aboard the artificial moon when it departed Kintan. Some thought him a corpse, buried deep beneath the blood and rubble of New Kalandra. Others did not give up hope. It was no surprise to see the likes of Wyatt Morga, Romi Jade, or Jend- Ro Quill aboard the vessel. These Jedi masters were iconic to the galaxy at large; true pillars of what it meant to be a Jedi. These were Jedi Ryv looked up to as his inspiration. These were Jedi Ryv knew would get his lost brother back home no matter what. He had no reason to fear what stood before them, so he chose instead to focus on reuniting with his lost friend.

Much like Bernard, Ryv took up a rear position of the Jedi strike force. While Bernard or Aaran were competent with the saber, Ryv lacked their skill and confidence. His focus was entirely on finding Lanik while the others conquered the hangar. So, when the ramp lowered and the Jedi burst into the ship, Ryv raced out after them with the little BD unit zipping beside him. They broke away from the group and maneuvered towards a terminal off to the side, likely used to control the blast doors closing the hangar off from the rest of the ship. The droid began its work, slicing into the ship to seek out the prisoner's whereabouts. During this, Ryv activated his weapon and focused on maintaining his ground. With an unexpected surge of Jedi, very few aboard the star destroyer could even think to keep up with the might of the order. Ryv deflected a few blaster bolts here and there, but the Jedi went mostly unnoticed in the brief skirmish.

Once the blast doors slid open, BD-8 scurried up Ryv and activated a holomap of the ship. A path was lit up, revealing the quickest route for Bernard and Ryv before the droid dropped and hurried off. Ryv nodded to Bernard and Aaran as the three set off. It wasn't until Aaran announced his departure did the group slow their pace.

"Alrighty man, stay safe. I'll meet you back at the ship," Ryv said before offering a two-fingered salute. It wasn't much of a goodbye, but Aaran could take care of himself. The arkanian and kiffar were tasked with collecting their kidnapped ally; the prime objective of their assault. As much as he'd like to stick with the brawny padawan, this was not the time. Instead, he picked up his pace and caught up with Bernard and their robotic guide.

No soldiers stood before them. Blast doors slid open for them. Suspicions grew within Ryv's mind as they continued pushing forward. There had to be some kind of trap being prepared for them. Perhaps a firing squad lined up at the door? The Jedi's abductor awaiting more padawan learners to toy around with? The possibilities were endless when it came to the malign machinations of the Sith Empire and their forces. Some of his earlier confidence shrinking away now that so many Jedi were gone. It be safer to turn back, find someone who could help them? But who? Ryv and Bernard were chosen for the small squad due to their experience besides one another and a much smaller presence in the force. They would succeed no matter what. With a deep breath he centered himself and focused on the task at hand.

He slid to a stop beside the smaller BD unit as it bounced up and down before the entrance to the smaller prison ship. It also appeared unguarded, devoid of any life. The droid scurried ahead once more, directly down a long hall. It began slicing the terminal beside the door, hard at work to crack it and permit the duo entry.

Right before it could be opened, a squad of sith troopers turned down a corridor of the star destroyer, connecting the two ships. Ryv took up a defensive position and reactivated his lightsaber. He focused on deflecting the bolts back at his foes, ideally for non-lethal zones. Before BD-8 could finish slicing the terminal, the blast door slid open to reveal Lanik's broken form. The droid hopped down and beeped its confusion up at Bernard.

"Get in there, Bernie. Prep him for evac, I'll keep em off us!"

Bernard of Arca | Darth Voyance | Lanik Dawnstar​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Lirka Ka had strength, reach, momentum, youth, armor, and a heavy blade. Quill had none of those things. What he had was a burlap robe and the vague feeling that there was food stuck in his beard.

The sword hammered against his two-handed blocks and drove him back. He kept his balance, shifting between stances, but couldn't hold his ground at all. Some Jedi could throw electric currents, make enemies nauseus, knock them out cold; Quill possessed none of those skills. When he got his opening, he just threw out a hand and launched a Force push at Lirka's armored chest. Most beings, in his experience, responded poorly to being thrown into a wall. A simple Force push was a plebeian technique, a Padawan's option, but Quill preferred it to getting fancy. If it connected, there was a decent chance she'd tumble through a door into a side corridor, maybe catch her big helm on the lintel and get whiplash or some such.

He didn't respond to her words. Responding to words wasn't exactly a favorite pastime of his.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

Theme

Ever eager to negotiate even after they'd proven violence was their preferred method of action. The Jedi's words drew as much as a response as he could expect. With no rifle or pistol in hand - the Purge Commando simply stared Sev down beneath a visage of black duraplast. A haunting figure in isolation from any of his underlings. Though nothing save for his rank bars differentiated him from the others in visible appearance. He carried himself with an aura of coldness and raw determination. A killer outright he'd yet to spare a Jedi his patience.

The Knight's patience was tested - and ultimately broken by the silence of the Csillan. The Pit fighter leaped forward toward the Chiss with a unnatural force-imbued agility. Perhaps one of...three, four of the more predictable first strikes from a Jedi that Wirm had encountered. Alongside a saber throw, force telekinetics lobbing an object toward him or outright attempting to pull or push him toward them or into some sort've inadvisable terrain. Typical yet ideal. Within that short span of time in which the Pitborn twisted his upper body to the side- letting the blue shimmering saber bite into one of the monitors behind him before soon enough the Chiss dipped down - buring his shoulder into Sev's chest, wrapping one arm around the Jedi's leg before the other went to press against the back Sev's skull.

Moving to launch the Jedi over his shoulder to slam him into the control panels, turning immediately after to activate the vibroblade concealed in the armor covering his knuckle - aiming to dig the blade center mass into the Jedi.

---

Sev Pitborn

 

[Vaulkhar]

The silent trip to engineering was a much-needed reprieve for the fallen Jedi. In life, perhaps he would've found some enjoyment in the social interaction with the strange sith. So many were caught up in the unquenchable thirst of combat and domination, it should have been a breath of fresh air. In death, it was not the same. He hated every element of his unlife. What could've been a learning opportunity was instead hate inspiring for the undead monstrosity. Once the conversation died away, he focused inward. While Avernus psyched himself in the silence, Vaulkhar searched the force surrounding them. He could feel the warmth radiating from the many Jedi aboard, though he was unable to pinpoint a precise location. In his past, such a careless approach to a boarding would've infuriated him, but no longer did he consider such things.

A resurrection ritual at his father's hands was no small matter. Vaulkhar's body was a wound in the force, one that screeched at the senses of Jedi within his presence. The nature of this existence heightened his powers of body and mind. It provided him the strength necessary to tackle such challenges. There was a greater game to be played, however. One that the fallen Jedi intended to win. It all began weeks prior when his father tore his soul from beyond and embedded it into his ruined corpse. It only continued as the bastard stood before others of his ilk and prepared for a new begging to the galaxy, one that would only come to exist when the rest of the galaxy burned.

"To be honest," he began, breaking the silence. "I do not personally see the point of this little exercise. What do you think Voyance has in mind, that she'd prepare this little trap, Sith?" with hands clenched together behind his back, Vaulkhar stepped into engineering and peered about. It was a room full of Imperial men and women, all of which worked tirelessly for their thankless Sith overlords. It was a lifestyle befitting beasts, not men. Yet, how different were the lives of the Sith underlings aboard the vessel? Servants of an aged Dark Lord, hiding away upon Bastion, surrounded by his whores. They would not speak out against the emperor. They were not truly free. They were cowards beneath an aged regime, just like the mortal men and women of the empire they tread upon. Truly ironic.

Gabriel Pryce | Avernus | Wyatt Morga​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

"Thank you for the key card," Cotan said to an unconscious man, taking the item in question from a pocket on their person. "Some time soon you should wake up, and by then I'll be long gone, don't worry." Infiltrating a Sith ship was never easy, especially not when he wasn't able to do it with the main group he was trying to help. He'd had to ride a shuttle in from Dantooine, a stowaway in the cargo bay. Not a comfortable trip.

Now he was making his way through the various halls and maintenance corridors of the star destroyer until he could manage to get to the prison ship attached to it. He didn't have any aid, either, unlike the others; he'd decided to make his approach from the complete opposite side of the vessel. On the one hand, it offered him a higher chance of personal success, as he was less likely to be spotted than if he was travelling with any others. It was also good if things were to start to go wrong for the main group, as he could abandon his primary plan, and instead go and make a distraction, buy them some more time.

On the downside, he had no help whatsoever if things went wrong for him. Hopefully they wouldn't.

Quickly glancing down both sides of the hallway outside the storage closet he was in, Cotan stepped out, leaving the unconscious officer behind. The key card was the last thing he needed to secure his entrance to the prison ship; obviously he still had to get there, but now he wouldn't be stuck at the lifts without any way to open them. All he would have to deal with would be security personnel and troopers and the like who would be stationed around those lifts.

No big deal.

"Alright, follow this hall down, take the third door on the left into the maintenance corridor, exit in the training room..." Based on the schedule he'd managed to ascertain of how the ship was run, the training room should be empty at the time he'd get to it. Hopefully it would be; this was the fastest safe route he'd managed to plan out. There were some that were safer, but they'd take long enough and take him far enough from anything useful to sabotage or alarms to set off that he couldn't help draw attention from the main party if he followed them.

"I hope this works."

Joycelyn Zambrano

 

[Gabriel Pryce]

Awash in the Force as she moved through the ventilation shafts and coolant pipes of the large vessel Oren's other senses were substantially enhanced. A technique of simultaneous observation and deception, and one that her Shadow Master had taught her well, She hid in the Force itself, like the dragonsnakes of Dagobah. It was an easy task aboard this vessel with so many Jedi and Sith and so when a pair of luminous beings crossed her force vision just below her she froze, diminishing her presence in the flow of the Force even more so, and listened. Sith Lords, much like their many of their Jedi counterparts, loved to talk. She never understood the constant philosophizing and posturing within their orders but it did offer interesting tidbits of information. At the mention of a trap though her heart froze. Trap? Did that mean Lannik was already dead and the Jedi had simply been led to believe he was alive and well? Or maybe, she thought - continuing the exercise, Lannik had fallen to the Dark Side.

Slowly she reached into her robes and gripped her comlink and began a series of taps and long presses of Jedi Code. It was too late for them now that the Trap was most likely sprung the moment they came aboard, but she hoped it made them all more vigilant and hoped that it made the Knights and Masters keep the Padawans in check.

"T...R...A...P"

With her code dispersed she flung open the grate beneath her and fell behind the two Sith, her blue blade activating with a snap-hiss immediately as she touched the ground. Her boots and the edges of her robes were covered in black filth and slick with white translucent coolant. She appraised them in the Force for a brief moment, the smaller of the two Sith Lords creating waves of something unnatural in the Force. Was this the ancient Sith art of Midichlorian manipulation and resurrection? Or was he a Sith Spawn along the lines of a Hound of Vahl with all their will stripped away leaving nothing but their Forceful vessels. The other was a Sith Pureblood and while her inexperience with the species meant his mind and presence in the Force was as difficult to grasp as a fleek eel, the wound-like presence the other left in the Force made her lean her defensive stance more in his favor. She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the hilt of her lightsaber in anticipation, raising it into a defensive stance.

"Please, do go on. What does this Darth Voyance have in store for us?"

Vaulkhar Avernus

Jend-Ro Quill Wyatt Morga Cotan Sar'andor Aaran Tafo Sev Pitborn Bernard of Arca Alana Sunrider ​