Invasion Rage Awakened (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Bastion & PL-40112-CE-021105)

[Lark]

Location: Bastion, Maximillian Heights
Tags: Vostok Grauv

Lark had felt loss so many times before. On Myrkr, when his mother decided that he wasn't worth protecting. When his sister was ripped from his arms, taken into the cold of the night with tears in her eyes. When his brother was stolen by people whose wickedness was beyond comprehension, who sold children like pieces of candy in order to make a bit of money for a hot meal. When his masters abandoned him, content to let whatever it was they created run amok without any true supervision. When he lost Bastion, forced to fly away as the place that built his rebirth fell to the most disgusting of enemies. Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise, for he had learned so much more from his own personal successes and failures than he had from any lesson from one who would betray the Sith.

But the Sith were not infallible, as he had predicted from the moment he joined their order. No organization was. So why did Lark still fight beside them? If every belief was doomed to fail when faced with the passage of time, why fight for the Empire? Honestly, the answer was simple. They offered an opportunity. One Lark chose to believe in. The only option Lark would ever have to achieve the peace that he sought in his life. The only method he had to restore his wretched existence into something that might provide benefit to his dear siblings. He'd let the stars collide, force all of the most wretched beasts in the galaxy to bow their head to him. As Lark saw the galaxy right now, his world was ruined. His family in shambles. His new home conquered and made to waste.

He would turn hell and heaven over to see his own harmony restored.

And so, he killed. Mercilessly. The needs and desires of the NIO were subservient to his own. Why would he feel any guilt towards those who threatened to rip his life away from him? But still, he tried to retain a bit of amiability. The NIO soldiers likely fought for the same reasons he did. He fought to restore his family, and the NIO soldier he just beheaded might have been seeking to avenge her fallen loved one. He didn't have an enchanted Sith sword anymore, only an enchanted dagger. He had Enlil to thank for that. Just another loss to add to the list. But his replacement lightsaber impaled youths like him all the same.

The screams meant nothing, for they did not echo his own goals. He was a silent, judgeless, compassionless killer. And yet he did not take some perverse passion in the slaughter. Lark killed because it would save his family. The lives of a few dozen soldiers was a small price to pay.

He would do anything to save the ones he loved. The only ones who ever cared for his existence.

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// POST I | ABOARD THE PROSPERITY //:
:// ALLIES: GA | NIO | Ryv //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | CIS //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:​

The still water of the lake was disturbed as the small child slowly took a step forward. An orange moon was nestled within the gaps of the mountain range in the distance. Crouching down, the edges of her robes fell into the obsidian liquid as a pink hand grazed across the surface. Watchful blue eyes followed the ripples. She was intrigued by the way she was able to interrupt the otherwise peaceful atmosphere with only a single stroke. ​

“What are you doing, there?”​

The melodic tone rang out, causing the girl to flinch. Slowly, she turned around, eyes dropped to the ground. Her movement was the only acknowledgment of the question. ​

“It’s okay, Ripley. Look at me.” ​

Her eyes flickered to the woman while her head remained tilted downwards. Dressed in a flowing white gown, her raven hair fell to her waist, an ethereal glow surrounding her form. The young girl had never seen her before, yet the familiarity was unmistakable. ​

“I’m scared.”​

“Of what?”​

“What’s coming.”​

“I see.”​

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt. I don’t want to get hurt. What if we’re not able to help? What if we don’t even get there in time? What if we do get there in time and it’s not enough? We’re only a few Jedi.”​

Droplets were sent flying through the air as the girl clumsily kicked against the water. The frustration and worry had been building, sending her to a breaking point. The woman looked down at her, beaming, the smile bright enough to light a thousand worlds. She moved forward, kneeling to the child’s level. Her hand met a rouge cheek. Ripley leaned into the touch, a soothing tide of warmth washing over her. ​

“See, now, it’s not so bad. We don’t always know what the future may hold, and it’s not up to us to figure it out. No matter how fearful we are, we must not give into it. Shield yourself against it, have courage. Know that you all may be but a few Jedi, yet no matter how hopeless it may seem in the moment, you still fight for what you believe to be right. Guardians of peace, ready to stand against those who threaten it. The light shines from all of you. Let it guide you through the storm of darkness.”​

The smile that faded appeared once more. The woman's other hand reached out to straighten the child’s robes.​

​

“Heed my words, Ripley. Despite the unknowns, despite the pain and chaos you all may face in the coming weeks, it will be okay. The path of a Jedi is not an easy one, yet we walk it anyway. Do not be led astray by apprehension and tribulation. Now go, you are needed elsewhere.”​

The world around her disappeared, her eyes fluttering open to find the gardens of the Prosperity once more. Ryv’s voice sounded across the intercom. She rose slowly from her meditative posture, stretching her arms, before making her way to the exit. ​

​

​

The atmosphere of the bridge buzzed with anticipation. Many of her peers scurried around, attending to their various tasks. The zeltron woman offered a smile and nod to each she passed. She made sure to look at each of their faces, committing them to memory. Ripley couldn’t help but wonder which of them wouldn’t return to Coruscant with her.​

Making her way to the center of the room, her gaze found the back of the kiffar. The back of his hair stood up in all directions. The knight frowned, wondering if he had slept at all. Her own attempt at rest had led to disappointment. Locked in a worrisome haze, the Sword had a steady presence in her thoughts. He always seemed to insist on charging recklessly into the line of danger, no thought for his own safety. It was something Ripley understood to an extent, and even admired. The New Jedi Order needed that in a leader. Any signs of hesitancy would surely spread throughout their ranks. They needed someone so selfless he was willing to throw his own life away without question if it was required by duty, someone to emulate. Yet she needed him, too- alive, and well. Her feet carried her forward once more. She reached out to touch the kiffar’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze on her approach.​

“Hey,” She greeted with a sheepish smile. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful out there, okay?” ​

.

 

[Vora Kaar]

S T R E N G T H

Warlords of the Sith
Bastion | Residential District
Helm | Saber | Mount
Rhis Fisto Mrurh'en'lase | Hel​

The dust and debris falling, clacking against the armored plating of the behemoth of a nearly sentient droid. it wouldn't take long for the black fog of despair to replace the dust of destroyed lives. Vora could feel the doubt, second questions and most importantly, the desperation. It was not difficult to make out the sound of a mentor telling a student to run. Even the explosion of a force push to send them away. While the attempt of removing a padawan out of harms way, Vora found it quite endearing of the mentor to care so much for someone who felt doubt. Just the pure idea of having to run away from Vora, only gave him the insatiable desire to chase them.

A game of Cat and Mouse would start.

However, Cracking and snapping of the remains from the crash were brought down upon Vora. The Lord lashed out an open hand facing upward. clenching down as the velocity came to a standstill. Holding these fractured and broken tools of the environment in a state of stasis. Holding them aloft. More debris that could not be held fell upon the Dark Lord. Making his darkened armor turn a dirty haze. Covering him in a mix of greys and blacks.

The scream of a saber activating brought a deeper smile to Vora's face. Well hidden underneath the helmet. The voice once more speaking. Heavy metallic deep tones filled with the influence of the force itself. A deep soothing tone in which could sway one to follow the speaker.

"Would the teacher side with the eager student? or will the student be reprimanded for coming to fight?"

Waving his hand, the debris held in stasis moved from directly over head, to be nearly on top of his head. Audible cracks of the neck exploded from the man. Twisting one way or another as though he failed to prepare for a fight before hand. Vora wanted this game of Cat and Mouse. He wanted the chase. And so they would have it as well. One by one, each piece of debris was thrown at the two of them. Rushing over to them. A lightsaber wouldn't be great against such large pieces of a building's infrastructure.

"I feel the Padawan has a point coach. She wants to fight against such evil people. Lets see how well she does? Could she survive? Would you feel guilty for throwing her to the wolves? Sacrificing yourself to preserve her? Such chivalry! Lets hope she has been taught well! Come O'child Mine. Let see if you have what it takes to be a Force User!"

All these words spoken. To anyone else? a mere monolog. Directed at these two? It was an attempt to get under their skin. To increase their doubt, and fear. Vora wanted them to squirm. Like a child picking off legs of a bug and seeing how long it lives. The Warlord wanted to see their strength. How long would they last? Maybe, this would bring an end to his own weakness. To find that of others, and eradicate them.

 

[Auteme]

Cara Dorniarn ​

Naïve. It was almost like a punch to the gut.

Almost.

As Cara pushed off, Auteme was beginning to draw breath. She saw the right hook coming and sidestepped accordingly; she didn't have the combat experience to see the follow-up. The metal fist slammed against her diaphragm and pushed up against it. The air that had been filling her lungs was expelled in an instant. She stumbled back in a desperate attempt to put a little distance between her and her attacker.

The pain cleared her head for once; it'd been sharp, and though she coughed as her body searched for oxygen, she wasn't out cold or incapacitated. Still, without a deep breath to settle herself, drawing on the Force in any meaningful way was unlikely.

She thought fast and reached into her bag instead. There were a dozen things she could pull out and only a few of them were useful, but she settled on something harmless and distraction-y. She threw them -- all four-hundred-something opaque paper coupons for Kalidan Fried Ewok -- and threw them at the armored woman's face. With her most devious of ruses deployed, Auteme turned and jumped into the bushes of the garden, running as best she could while she found her breath again.

Yet the woman's words weighed heavy on her mind. Auteme had felt the effects of Kyber Dark; the cry in the Force. She often believed that standing aside was all evil needed to gain a foothold. Was that what she was doing now?

She kept moving.

 

[Scourge Harz]

Objective: Defend NIO Fleet
Allies: Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Savoh Muska | Naier Rambeigh
Enemies: Thaelius | Seela Leini | Onrai | Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Aut-X

----

In Bastion Orbit
​

Streaks of energy raced across the sky toward his fleet.

"Admrial, the enemy has began to open fire!"

His gaze held steady as the man waited for a reply. But he kept watching, showing no emotion and answer for the man. Out of his peripheral he could see him start to worry somewhat as he waited for a command. All of these men and women had been taught follow orders given by their commander. Well sometimes, no order was needed.

By the time the energy collided with the shield, it had already lost enough speed and power to deal any damage. His fleet was still on the outskirts of the battlefield. Foolish move by the Sith to waste their firepower.

"Redirecting our shields would have been a pointless waste of time. The energy was going to disperse anyways. Yet you have to challenge my..."

"Um...sir? They appeared to have jammed all comms."

Turning around he found the women who spoke out against him. She sat at a control panel, nervously staring back at him. Before he absolutely annihilated her for speaking out, he needed a way to communicate with his fleet. His hope was that they would follow by example.

"Very well then. Begin moving forward and get those comms back online. We start our attack now."

The Vicious Rancor moved ahead, yet allowing the escort frigates to lead. They would have full front shields, creating a powerful wall protecting them from fire. The corvettes brought up the rear, waiting for their moment to strike. With only a small portion of the TIEs flying around, he needed those comms back online so he could prepare the launch for the remaining squadrons.

But for now, it was on.

 

[Bastard]

T H E _ L O S T _ O N E
New Imperial Order
CRESTFALLEN
Rurik Fel | Onrai

Ravelin, Fortress Imperator
​

They put him in chains and dragged him through the streets of Ravelin. A traitor they called him. He turned his blade upon his brethren in a fit of passion. It saw them slaughtered, not by Crimson Saber or bout of corrupt magics. The weapon of an Imperial Knight took their lives. He swore oaths of service to the New Imperial Order. He was meant to protect them all from the horrors of the dark side. No one questioned his loyalty, nor each purposeful stride taken to uphold the Will of Defiance. Those who knew the truth of his legacy placed their trust in him. If his father could see himself from the shadow, find purpose in something greater than one man, then surely he could too. It should've been impossible. But it wasn't.

Errant Varanin, son of Vaulkhar Once Zambrano, betrayed every vow sworn to the Empire. He turned his back on the Will of Defiance, not for riches or power, but lust. Many a night shared with the late Vella Forte brought on emotions not permitted during his earliest training. Uncontrolled passion delivered powers not meant for mortal hands. What he learned was meant to protect those unable to protect themselves. The common man, beaten down by the likes of the Sith for generations, relied on him. They trusted in the Imperial Knights to bring law to a lawless galaxy. No ancient philosophies guided those sworn to service in the name of Empire. Their tenets meant something more than personal beliefs. He was meant to be the Sword to strike down the Sovereign-Imperator's enemies and the Shield who would break the tide of ever creeping darkness.

If only his father could see him now. A failure, just like his sisters. Just like the rest of their accursed lineage. Errant believed himself capable of breaking the chains of fate. He wanted to be more than another weak-willed Sith in service to a corrupt regime. But when the time came to prove himself the better, he fell short. Nothing could change the truth of his reality.

Even as the prison around him trembled from the onslaught above, he could not bring himself to lift his head. It rested on one knee, his long white locks, once beautiful and maintained, hung low to the floor, caked with grime. One finger scratched aimlessly at the cold, durasteel floor.

The sound of booted feet caught his attention long enough for Errant to shift his gaze to the cell door.

"Open the door," a voice demanded.

"Y-Yes sir, one moment, sir," another answered, their panic evident.

"What's taking so long?!? Dammit, man! How hard could it be to scan a key-card to free the prisoner?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir! He hasn't left his cell since the Lord Executor brought him in. We stopped bothering to try and coax him outside," the anxious man explained. "Ah, here it is!"

A faint beeping sounded from beyond the door. The durasteel door slid aside, revealing two heavily-armored Imperial Knights alongside one of the many stormtroopers assigned to the prison.

"I don't understand what you want from him. Look at him," the soldier motioned towards Errant's gaunt body. "He's a broken man. Such a fate is fitting for a traitor."

Errant's lips pulled back in a tight smile. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, shakily standing after nearly a day without movement. He said nothing, content to listen.

"Ravelin is under attack," the lead Knight, an epicanthix with long black hair, said. "The Empire's defeat at Dantooine has left us vulnerable, Varanin. Make yourself useful," he motioned for his partner behind him. A second later, a bag sailed into the room. The flap fell away, revealing a pair of worn-down boots and a gray cloak. "Suit up and get the hell out there. No Knight will stand aside as our home is sacked and our people are killed. Do I make myself clear?"

The prisoner knelt and took up the cloak in silence. Errant ran his hands along the coarse surface, eyes locked on the ratty material. After several seconds, he looked back to the Imperial Knight, his tight-lipped smile widening to reveal a pair of too-sharp canines.

"What, no armor?" Errant inquired.

They turned and departed without saying another word. Errant slid the boots over his dirty feet, then threw the cloak around himself, tying it in place quickly, each movement precise, as if practiced ten-thousand times before. He peered through the empty door, eyes locked on the distant forms of his brethren. Lord Executor Rurik Fel promised him the chance to prove his loyalty to the Empire anew when he delivered the Knight-Errant to his cell. If ever there was a time, it was now. On Bastion, amidst the flames of war, surrounded by the dead and dying.

Errant Varanin failed his Empire once before. He would not do it again.

Ravelin, Fortress Imperator

The world around is killing me
No thunder, wind and rain
Eels are crawling everywhere
Compounding with the game
​

Stepping from Fortress Imperator was like walking from one world into another. A stream of blaster fire assailed the citadel from all directions. Distant explosions rocked the city. Flames reached up towards the heavens, spreading too fast for the defenders even to consider stopping. Errant could see gray banners held aloft throughout the city from his elevated position, each one a testament to his Order's willpower. Unfortunately, they were outnumbered. Black and crimson standards streamed deeper into Ravelin. The enemy forces proved themselves worse than any insect. No matter how crushing the defeat, no matter how many of their men fell to the Empire's might, the Sith would not surrender.

Errant moved down the steps to the citadel, his gaze locked on an encroaching horde of Sith-Imperial Legionnaires. At the lead stood a black armored Sith, garbed in shadowy robes, holding a midnight blade aloft in a clawed gauntlet.

"Where the hell are you going?!" a stormtrooper shouted from behind him. "You can't stop them, Varanin! Get back here!"

Nothing would come of such a discussion. It wasn't victory the Crestfallen Knight sought. He would not return to those cells, to wither away and die. If he did not earn his freedom, he would earn his death.

His eyes narrowed upon the Sith. From the explosion of hate centered around the baleful warrior's body, Errant could guess what the Sith had in store for him. Good. Better they skip the introductions and make this quick. Errant's slowgoing pace increased, each step faster than the last. The Sith mirrored him near-perfectly. Their bodies blurred, the distance between them shrinking in the blink of an eye.

An overhand strike saw the massive blade driven down towards the pale-skinned Knight before he could completely close the gap. Errant sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blade, and stepped towards the conquerer's side. The Imperial Knight drove his palm into the side of his opponent's helmet. A concussive wave of telekinetic force crashed into the Sith and drove him back. Errant did not stop. His momentum carried him forward, allowing him to slip his fingers beneath the chin guard and tear away the headgear while the Sith struggled to regain his footing. Before the Albino could do anything else, the blade swept up in a diagonal strike. Errant retreated just out of reach, earning his zabrak foe a moment of reprieve.

Now in position, the legionnaires dropped to their knees and opened fire on the cloaked figure engaging their commander. A stream of red blaster bolts screeched closer to the Knight in a torrent of hellfire.

Errant lifted a hand and willed the bolts to stop. They did. He pushed back with the same hand, his intent to turn the Sith-Imperial loyalist's attack back on them. Some dove aside, smart enough to recognize the tactic. Those trapped between their fellows or out in the open could do nothing but take to the floor and cover their heads. It didn't help. Several screamed out in pain. Others died much quicker, holes blown through their skulls, brain-matter fried instantaneously as their shots rained back upon them.

The Sith launched himself at Errant, his weapon held high in both hands. It came down in another rabid chop that carved a jagged groove through the road beneath them. He struck out again with a backhanded slash meant to disembowel the smaller man, to no avail. Errant danced back just out of reach yet again, only to quick-step forward, leaping into the air. He gripped two prominent horns atop the Sith's head and pulled him closer, just as Errant drove his knee forward. It collided with the zabrak's red nose, flattening it against his skull. Blood exploded, splattering against the pavement and staining the Knight's gray cloak.

White armored stormtroopers hurried forward, their blasters trained on the legionnaires further down the way. Blaster fire passed harmlessly by the two force adepts, both sides well aware of their limitations in the face of the impossible.

"Surrender," Errant snarled.

"Never!" the Sith roared. Leaping to his feet, weapon forgotten in his rage-filled haze, he thrust a hand out and sent a torrent of lightning towards Errant. The Knight lifted both hands and met the blast head-on. The force of the attack sent him sliding back several inches before he regained control of himself. Sparks shot out, striking all across the Knight's body. Before he knew it, his cloak was aflame.

Errant cursed and redirected the lightning elsewhere. He pulled the cloak from his body, tossing it away before turning his attention back to the Sith's charging form. Errant reached out and took hold of the zabrak's armored breastplate through the force.

"Surrender!" Errant shouted. "Or die!"

The red and black-skinned alien howled in rage.

"So be it," the echani closed his hand into a tight fist. The Sith's breastplate crumpled inward. It slowly cut through flesh, tightening around the infuriated warrior's body. Screams of rage turned to cries of pain. Those same cries slowly melted away, replaced with pained whimpers. Errant stepped towards the Sith, reaching out to the blade behind the broken warrior. He summoned it to his hand with a mental command. "I should see you suffer, Sith, but I would not strip you of what little honor you have left. Be thankful."

Errant struck down, splitting the zabrak's head in two from crown to collarbone. Pink brain-matter leaked out from shattered bone, falling to the ground in wet slops. The Imperial kicked the body aside and withdrew the weapon. When he turned back to the loyalists, he wasn't surprised to find the lot of them facedown dead or fleeing for their lives. He looked to the stormtrooper captain hurrying to his position and nodded.

"Thank you for the support, Captain," Errant said. "Where am I needed?"

As he spoke, the Albino stripped the Sith's pauldrons and gauntlets away from his bloodied form. He worked them into place over his arms.

"Some hellish monstrosity was seen moving towards a former Sith data hub. We're not sure of its intentions, but with most of the Imperial Knights located in the tunnels below the city, there is no one to engage the beast."

Errant nodded. "Very well, I shall move to stop them. Take your men and return to the citadel."

"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper saluted and hurried away.

Errant turned from the man, his gaze on a distant point in the city. "Let us see what you are made of, beast. Perhaps you'll put up a better fight than your predecessor."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: O U T _ O F _ L U C K //:
//: Location //: Tunnels //:
//: Objective //: Survive //:
//: Aaran Tafo //:

The way the man responded was odd; the Princess just shrugged in response. To her, the Imperials and the Jedi were all the same. They felt this entitlement to the galaxy; even the Sith were guilty of this. “You all look the same to me. Selfish and war-loving.” The girl’s voice showed how little she cared about everything that was happening. Her reason for being on the planet was fulfilled. She brushed her hair from her face as she looked at the charred bodies and patted her cheek. Pity, she thought to herself as she looked from the bodies to the Jedi, who seemed to be more in his head than on the war that was around them. A good thing for her, now that she thought about it. ​

Curiosity washed over her face as she tried to stifle the laugh that followed. No Jedi had killed? She blinked at him in disbelief and shook her head. “Maybe your hands are clean, but the Jedi attacked originally with the Imperials; the Sith only come back to claim what they think is rightfully theirs.” She waved her hand and sighed softly. “But I could care less what the Sith, the Jedi, or even the Imperials want with this world or any other world. It all ends the same, with the blood of whatever armies that fight spilled without reason. You’re fodder for your government.” ​

Strong words coming from a sovereign, but she believed it. Quinn never wanted to rule people like that. Her parents, tyrants in their own rights, always attempted peace - even when that peace was thrown in their faces. Once more, the girl dusted herself off, frustrated at the smudges that wouldn’t leave the delicate fabric she wore. “As for why I’m here, I came to fetch something that I had lost when the Imperials killed all my friends in their stupid war for justice." She sighed and looked around, the girl didn't remember anything in this tunnel. "I guess I took a wrong turn on my way out.” She laughed again as she finished. Turning away, she realized this Jedi needed to just be on his own, to wallow in his self-pity. ​

His fate was sealed the moment he lost everyone and decided to feel sorry for himself. She could feel it through the Force, another fallen Jedi, another weak soul who would soon be culled. “Well, good luck with uh,” she waved her hand over towards the charred bodies. “Whatever that is.” Quinn quipped as she backed away while lifting her dress slightly, she slipped the lightsaber into the clip of the harness she wore on her thigh. ​

The Jedi was in a pitiful state, and she held herself in higher regard than to kick a puppy when it was down. She turned on her heel and headed towards the other side of the tunnel, starting to head back to where she came.​

 

[Laertia Io]

Lura the Advanced Model 1 frowned as the shot from her hacked tank missed DECEASED Erskine Barran . But really, there was so much chaos the Nanite Assassin Droid had been a tad distracted.

Looks like she was gonna have to do this the hard way...

The Nanite Assassin Droid released her hold of the hacked tank as the column charged the outer gates, firing on the Dark Troopers. Still disguised as one of Erskine's stormtroopers, she was forced to shoot at their enemies to maintain cover, all the while subtly getting closer to them while shooting at Sith Legionaries, swiping a grenade from a Legionnaire whose head she blasted off, melding it into her body...

The fighting went on for some time until they linked with their own allied forces and there was at last a lull. They had been injured.

She made careful note of where they were, getting their bandages changed out. They were wounded. She made quick note of this. Had to plan it out.

She retrieved the grenade and casually left it near one of the medics without anyone noticing, arming it.

She approached, looking like she had some place to be as she got closer and closer.

She was about twenty meters from him when she went into a light jog towards him and the medics like she needed treatment. At about nine meters one of her arms turned into blade as the jog became a sprint as the grenade went off near troops getting treated elsewhere and drawing the attention of the stormtroopers to the blast, pulling out her pistol and firing at the man next to Erskine while everyone was distracted, hitting and killing some of the medics around him as targets of opportunity while her blade sped towards Erskine's neck...

 

[Aaran Tafo]

LOCATION: THE TUNNELS
OBJECTIVE II: DANGER BELOW
OPPOSITION: Quinn Varanin​

"Nobody actually has a right to anything. Objectively speaking that is." He finally spoke up as Quinn was leaving, having no issue letting the Princess air her opinions and thoughts aloud. It was his belief that ultimately, everything was subjective. People could present their arguments as to why something was a certain way. And then have to deal with those who would contest those views. "That's what ideals, beliefs and creeds are for. To tell us what we're entitled to."

"Maybe the Sith are right in trying to take back Bastion. It was important to them. But what about other worlds. Were they right in trying to take worlds that held no military or cultural value to them like Kintan? They just attacked out of the blue there." He was not being confrontational. She could feel no aggression in him. He was simply offering food for thought more than anything else.

In his ideal universe. Such disputes would be handled diplomatically, probably with a fair amount of compromise involved so every party was satisfied to some extent. But more often not, things got violent. Some things that various parties were unwilling to compromise on. Some parties unwilling to compromise at all. Everyone crying foul and starting a fight based on a past grievance. Unable to let go of past misdeeds and actually work towards a more sustainable future.

"I'd advise against leaving just yet." He called out as Quinn began to leave. "Imperial Patrols moving around." If the Echani turned around, she'd find Aaran pulling out a Holoprojector. On the projected image were the surrounding tunnels. Several blinking grey lights. Each of them denoting an Imperial Patrol currently fighting through the tunnels, some of which were converging on their position. "I'm not going to blame you for anything the Sith did. But I'm not sure if they'll care much."

Hypothetically, she could sneak away, or even fight her way out. But it would hardly be an easy endeavour to pull off. Especially if any of those patrols were joined by Imperial Knights of any real potency. But before she could formulate any sort of escape plan. Or perhaps an attempt to attack Aaran before he could call for aid. The young man's finger pressed the button to send the all-clear for this sector. Barely a few seconds later, the Patrol began to move away from their position.

And during no point could Quinn even sense a hint that he considered calling the patrols here to aid in capturing her. "I'd advise you to wait a few minutes. Let them pass." He said, fingers moving to highlight one of the tunnels in particular. "This one's been cleared out already and leads to the surface. If you're quick and careful, you should be able to get out of here without any trouble."

It seemed, at the very least, he was true to his ideals of preventing as much death as he could. Either by Quinn getting hurt by the Imperials. Or the Acolyte cutting her way through the defending troops during her escape. "It’s funny you mention all Jedi being the same. Because most Jedi I've met seem to think the same of the Sith." He said, moving to sit back down on the pillar. "There lies the crux of the problem doesn’t it? Sins of the Fathers. Laying the blame of an entire order at the feet of individuals. Because people you have associated with did something horrible, you're just as guilty. Personally, I don’t think it’s fair for anyone to shoulder that kind of burden." After all, both the Jedi and Sith had indeed sinned. Either through action or inaction. And to put the weight of that on any individual, no matter how strong they were, would crush them utterly.

"My condolences for your friends." He finally said after a moment. "If it means anything, I understand what it feels like to lose those you care about over meaningless conflict. I've been on both ends of the sword of Justice in the past. I've only recently come to grips with how subjective it can be."


"Also, I apologise for my lack of manners." He said, finally drawn enough from his bout of depression to give a polite bow of his head. "Aaran Tafo. Former Padawan of the Jedi Order under Wyatt Morga. Currently wandering spacer considering joining the Galactic Alliance's new order."

"Might I get your name Miss?"

 

[Areyon]

ALLIES: NIO | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
ENEMIES: Darth Ledgermayne | Daeron | TSE | CIS

D A R R E N
The Omega Guard Second-in-Command
Gear: Lightsaber Pike, Armor
NPCS: Omega Guard x5

The Captain had new business to take care of, so the call of duty called upon him to step up to lead.

Darren trusted Areyon to lead the Omega Guard, as did Areyon trusted Darren to take charge if anything were to happen to him. The Omegas were now placed in his command, and he was to hold the line as he was instructed to do so.
But the task was getting difficult by the second. The creatures that came to attack seemed to never end. They attacked without mercy, without hesitation, and never gave up until their last movements. Their position was getting overrun.

They still were to hold the line.

The scream of an Omega echoed throughout the tunnel. Darren looked back in horror to see his fellow brother-in-arms on the ground, jagged shards of crystal gutting from his arm. It was a horrific sight to watch as his comrade slowly fell to the infectious plague that the creatures carried within them. Darren knew that in order to treat his brother for an injury he would have to fall back. But they were given orders to hold the line. Darren looked at the dying Omega Guard on the stone-cold floor and then back to the raging assault of the crystalline beasts. He had no other choice. He picked up the body of his fallen comrade and held him with a fireman's lift, straight above his shoulders. The others did not make a sound, they already knew what had to happen as well. Step by step, they began to shift back deeper into the tunnels and towards their Captain.

The group of Omegas reached the cut open door made by the Sith that their leader had entered. They quickly made their way inside to witness a struggling Areyon trying to fight a swarm. His movements were swift and concise, effortless, and without hesitation. But his body language read that he was tired and conflicted, he could not hold up on his own for much longer. Darren lay the body of the fallen Omega Guard down and took up arms with his Captain. "Omegas! Protect the Captain!" He cried out, taking his lightsaber pike and activating it with pride. As the two of them fought against the horde side by side, Areyon spoke to his brother hurriedly.

"Darren! The other Sith has escaped my grasp and has gone through the exit tunnels to try to save himself. I will follow after him." Darren used his lightsaber pike to prevent an attack on his Captain, pushing the sithspawn away and crushing its head under his boot. Areyon continued. "I need you to keep the Omega Guard here! Defend against the swarm that the Sith has opened us up to! Do not let these dogs rest until you have them by their necks!" Darren did not respond, yet Areyon knew he was understood as the Omega fought with a restored purpose. Their fight was not yet over.

Areyon quickly retreated towards the service tunnel exits and followed right behind the escaping Sith. Darren summoning strength with the Force exerted a physical wave of energy out that pushed back the surrounding mob. Darren looked behind him to see the Omega Guard trying to care for the wounded. He understood that the injured took up a massive priority, but protecting their own lives came first. The Omega Guard Second-in-command summoned his troops to, understand they must survive the incoming wave if they all are to go home to a safer Bastion.

"OMEGAS! TO ME! LET US SHOW THE SITH WHAT TRUE WILL IS LIKE!"




A R E Y O N
Gear: Lightsaber Pike, Armor

Areyon stared at the Sith with eyes of hate and rage. They had the audacity to raid their cities, destroy the only home he's known for his entire life, all for false glories and tainted victories. It made him sick, disgusted at the behavior that they put on display for the New Imperial Order to bear witness.

He placed his feet firm, his grasp steady with his lightsaber pike poised in a position to strike. The Sith did not move, even as he was standing in front of him. Areyon wondered to himself; was the Sith going to fight, protect his honor, his creed for which he lives by, the banner for which he rallies? Will he fight? But he just stood, no words, no actions. A silence came over the room that drowned out the sounds of the footsteps. the screams, the raging battles on the land above, everything.

Then the swarm broke through.

Arion's attention broke off of the Sith and towards the rushing crowd of sithspawn that cane to kill him. The Sith allowed himself the opportunity to run. Areyon knew he could not follow behind him. The dangers of letting the creatures roam on their own would end in serious consequences. Without the rest of the Omega Guard to back him up, he had to stand his ground alone. He let the darkness come as he alone was the spearhead to drive it back. From all directions attacks ensued but Areyon kept his distance with his lightsaber pike. Flurries of thrusts and jabs met the mob of sithspawn with full force to keep the forces at bay until he could receive help. He knew his Omega Guard was not far, but they had their orders to hold the front. Areyon was stuck.

The horde started to swarm around him. He could not keep up with the rapid and loose attacks of the crystalline thrawls that were dispatched. They were two large in number to keep track of all at once. His body was responding slowly to conserve energy, and he could feel the weight of his armor against his body. He would need relief soon, or he could meet his end. The Sith that ran off towards the service tunnel exit was seen staring at him fighting back against the sithspawn. His escape would be fast and he would be lost to the tunnel system with great places to hide and even greater ones to escape. But Areyon could barely focus. He planted his feet once more to get a better train of balance but he would not move from his spot. If he were to be torn apart by the Sithspawn, then he would go out fighting. Yet his calls had been answered as his Omega Guard came to the rescue to deliver their aide against the onslaught of the beasts. Darren, the Omega Guards second-in-command, came to the side of Areyon and started to follow the movements of his enemies, striking down when is right. Areyon followed the same style of attack that his brother-in-arms, and they were in unison as they struck together as one to push back the sithspawn.

Areyon then signaled his SiC to listen as he made his proposal. It wasn't a good trade-off due to it, he would have to leave his men and go against the fleeing Sith. But it was the only way to secure the location of the warrior, so it had to be done. Darren did not say a word back to acknowledge what the Omega Captain had said, but Areyon had a built-up trust to know he would not fail his orders. With the sithspawn situation being dealt with, the opportunity to chase is now. His lightsaber pike deactivated and Areyon pulled off through the control room and into the service exit tunnels, where the Sith stay dormant.

A wave of guilt flushed over Areyon as he went to go follow the escaping suspect. He had left his brothers to fight a mass of troops that could lead to their deaths. A leader had to charge from the front and set an example, and he did neither of those things running away. Areyon was not pleased, and he knew that he needed to finish up his engagement and return to the front.

Holding the line was something they did best.

 

[Felix Astermo]

Location: Tunnels beneath Ravelin, close to Library.
Objective: Recover abandoned artefacts, slay the unworthy.
Equipment: Sith Warblade, Unspecified Talismans, Glorious Golden Mask.
Writing With: Elpsis Kerrigan

His meddling with the local air pressure meeting with significantly more success, Aurum quickly arrived at the conclusion that whoever the woman was her mastery of fire was at the forefront of her fighting style - something confirmed immediately afterwards as she gathered the condensed air to her only to turn it into a veritable firestorm, the raging currents of air catching aflame as the battered towards him.

Falling to a knee, he drove his sword into the tunnel floor, robes billowing about him as he was pushed back with the screech of metal on duracrete, a thin line in the floor marking his passage. Coming to a standstill as the impromptu storm ended, it took him a moment to stagger back to his feet.

Smoke rising from his fully-covered, an impassive golden mask stared at her. "You are stronger than I anticipated."

Far stronger. There was still a chance her specialisation might have taken the route of crippling overspecialisation, however; with another exertion of will, he once more reached out for the tunnel's heat - this time to draw it away from her, depriving her of the element from which she drew strength.

Ideally, he would turn her into an icicle, but even staving off further fiery assaults would be worthwhile.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」​

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「FIVE SECONDS」​

A quiet, stifled gasp quietly compensated for the lack of air in his lungs. Chest and shoulders rose with each subsequent breath in an exaggerated fashion. "Foitan banas," fuck's sake, he bleated as he rubbed his throat with his right hand.

Five seconds had passed.

"Thirty seconds?" Zaavik scoffed, upper lip curling with vexation. "This is gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds, you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Five more seconds passed.

He sighed. No preparations as to what he was going to say had been made prior. This entire endeavor had been spontaneous, and he was playing it by ear for better or worse. "No tricks," he reassured begrudgingly. He showed his hands, turning them once over and them back, keeping them where she could see them. "You're torn up about what happened here, it doesn't take an empath to figure it out. I get it, I really do. I've been there too, believe it or not. Not just losing everyone, but to death's door as well."

Five seconds left.

"The residual echoes gave me a vision; I saw you die here, in the courtyard, nearly drowning in your own blood. I don't know how you're still here-"

Time's up.

"But I know it wasn't the work of any Sith."

Zaavik had been counting the seconds in his head, he was ready to snap his hand down to his saber if he had to. Yet, still he continued regardless.

"I know you don't want to let anything like that happen again. Not even just to yourself, either. But you're on the wrong path. The Sith do that kind of shit on a planetary scale on a near-constant basis. I can see the good in you, you mean well, but you're misguided."

There was a pause, Zaavik gauging the atmosphere before his next sentiment.

"I came here because I can help you."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Her heart pulsed in her ear, the tip of her saber subtly wavering with each internal thump thump thump. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Her thoughts raced, her eyes searching for a sign of mockery. The boy was as serious as stone, an earnest edge to him imploration. He saw her. It disarmed her.

Was this an apology?

The saber lowered a centimeter, her chest puffing in distress as he painted a picture of that day. She didn't like to think about her death. She didn't like that he knew about it. Standing before him, she felt vulnerable. Raw.

Confused.

It distracted her from an off set of words, her gaze boring into him-- Hungry for recognition, desperate to feel whole again. Thirty seconds had come and gone, and he still held her attention.

"How?" She asked, her voice tight and mistrusting.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Getting this far was unexpected. Every expectation was that she'd try to strike him down the moment he finished speaking. At least he was getting somewhere. It was a much better start than he could have realistically hoped for. Though, he was beginning to understand that the closer he got, the thinner the tightrope would get. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for anything other than a full send. Beyond the walls of the redoubt, the battle raged indifferent to this encounter. Every breath taken in silence was time wasted.

"You're in pain. Desperate to scrub a layer of soot from your skin that won't wash away. Hate won't be a solvent, it'll only bring you more suffering. I know what happened was wrong, horrible, but we can do our damndest no make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You don't trust me, I know, and to be honest, I'm not exactly your biggest fan either."

Zaavik slowly offered out his hand. Durasteel-cortosis alloy glittering with a weathered sheen beneath the artificial light overhead.

"But it's my duty to help you. Not just as a Jedi, but as someone who's been exactly where you are. That wound will fester forever, it's not something you can just forget, but you can soothe it. It would be unfair and dishonest to try to convince you otherwise. We can't ever make it right, but we can do right by you. Come with me, leave the Sith behind, open your eyes to a better path. You can make a difference this way, a crusade for vengeance isn't going to save anyone, it's only going to eat you up inside."

"Isn't it already?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

He had her. He really did. His words hit feelings she had never been able to give names to. He said it like it was. He validated her, no excuses. No blame on her.

Goosebumps speckled up her arms, a surreal prick of emotions hitting her tear ducts. For a moment, it felt okay. To feel. To hurt. It was horrible. It was wrong! And she deserved to hear it-- she deserved-

"Come with me, leave the Sith behind,--"

Her expression froze, the emotions bleeding from the planes of her face. And that was the exact moment everything he had to say meant diddly chit.

"You're trying to recruit me," she said, a dangerous edge to the emotionless statement. She beheld the cornered jedi, the tight rope he walked held taunt, moments from snapping.

Or maybe it already had.

She left him to sweat it out, her hand clenching on her hilt as she took a single, harmless step towards him. "Why?"

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」​

"Recruit you?" A humorous scoff slipped wryly from between his lips. "Ostensibly, maybe. Though, not even I would be so naive to think I, or anyone for that matter, may make a Jedi out of you." Zaavik smirked briefly, his glare softening in a non-aggressive fashion. "I thought about it, and maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see it." The offered hand dropped halfway, making room for her approach while also retreating in a paranoid touch-avoidant gesture. Ironic, given the nature of the gesture in the first place.

"I'm sure plenty would've said the same about me, though." Truthfully, he himself was quite possibly the worst excuse for a Jedi he'd ever met. Knighting had felt like a sham, war hero commendation too, he didn't deserve anything. That's why he was trying to earn it now, make a difference. Whether it was the truth or his own twisted perspective on himself changed nothing. What he'd done all the way up to where he stood now couldn't ever be changed. You had to live with these things.

"I just want to help you, like I said. Jedi or otherwise, just not a Sith. The Dark Side is voracious, and it devours you with every passing second. So too, is the hate that you bottle. Mine has already eaten more of my than I can ever hope to get back. I don't want that for anyone. Not even a Sith."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

A dry laugh caught in her chest, his words earning a near roll of her eyes. "Oh when you put it that way. I'm flattered." She kept approaching, her steps lazy yet pointed as she drove him back. There was no window in this room. There was no escape spare the door at her back. She bounced the saber in her hand, the tip held off to the side.

"You know. For a moment I thought you might actually be decent. But I'm so stupid," she cursed, her head shaking in passionate dismissal. "Such an idiot to think I could actually get understanding out of someone like you. You spout the craziest chit, you know that? As if I'd abandon the people that need me." She pointed the saber his way, its length bouncing haphazardly as she gestured. "The people you want to kill." The blue hue reflected in her eyes, intense as her fury broke free.

"You will never. Speak. Of my pain. Again," she uttered, her voice rasping with righteous indignation. Firey hot tears boiled over, the wounds of her past laid open and bare. It was his fault. For prying. For being a prick. For taking part in the systematic murder of people-- he was no savior. He was no hero. She didn't buy his excuses. She saw him as he was and she held him to it.

"I hate you!"

She descended on him in a flurry, streak of red and blue as she went to deliver a silencing blow across his neck.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

A grimace materialized over Zaavik's face when the laugh reached his ears. The final thread on the rope had finally broken. Whatever silver he had on that tongue of his clearly hadn't been worth its weight in words this time. Fingers twitched, muscles in his body near-trembling with anticipation of whatever twitch-reaction he'd need to make next to save his skin.

Every opportunity he had to retort was stifled by her continual rebuke. Words had probably outgrown their usefulness now. Cerulean eyes followed the blue droning of saber tip as she whisked it around with the camber of her words. He wasn't listening anymore. She was going to strike, it was clear, all attention reallocated to the secret top priority of this entire endeavor: not dying.


"I hate you!"

Couldn't help but hear that part, though. Visions of the saber's trajectory flooded his middle-consciousness with a pang of danger only split-instant before she began to strike. Eyes widened suddenly, head reeling back along with the bending of knees. Spine and sinew contorted suddenly into a low backward lean, slipping just beneath the would-be deathblow. He snapped back up, snatching his saber on the way up and sending the viridescent blade screaming to life with the distinct hiss that only a lightsaber could make.

A step back sought to put space between them, but his back bumped the wall halfway in. He pointed his saber forward in a defensive gesture and half-shrugged wryly. "Well, welcome the club then, I guess."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

She screamed in his face, the motion senseless and even wild as he made light of her pain. There was insult in what he had just tried to do. There was pain in the pain he tried to use against her-- pain he was responsible for.

She would not be manipulated. She would hold him accountable.

She felt so foolish.

The room surged with energy, dark and twisted. She jumped up, her head brushing the high stone ceiling. The energy imploded, telekinetic tendrils ripping the shelving off the walls. In her fury, she was stronger. The metal units went tumbling down towards him. She fell after it, her hair flowing around her like a vengeful halo as she came down with an overhead strike.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

Pupils dilated to a black speck on a cerulean backdrop. Adrenaline coursed along with the force, every muscle revving for their next move. A second hand grasped his saber hilt, thumb sliding over to press the activator to send the second blade erupting from the opposite end. Controlled arcs of verdant light sundered shelf and linen as they careened toward him on either side. Plasma hissed against metal and fabric, leaving a burnt smell in the air expanding from the long, black scars left in the objects.

Zaavik turned his chin up, meeting her snarling rage head-on with a stern look of determination. Blue and green screeched together, one of his blades catching the oncoming strike from overhead. The blade to the opposite cut into the wall behind him as the hilt turned with an accommodating camber. The light from the clashing blades strobed a vibrant cyan.

He pressed forward, kicking his foot off the wall and freeing himself from the clash. His frame spun in a tilted corkscrew, his boots knocking into a ceiling panel and jarring it out of place. He landed on the other side of her with a broken shelf clattering beneath the impact of his feet. Elbows pulled back, and one shoulder reached over to hold the saber alongside him at head-level; Juyo's closest equivalent to a fool's guard.

"We don't have to fight," he declared calmly. Illumination droned and sputtered against his face, melding with the light vermillion to manifest a hazy yellow sheen over his visage. "You know how this is gonna end; the same way it did the last two times." Her shoulder and side were testaments to the iron grip he'd kept on the upper hand between them.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this," he implored, ever persistent.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

"One time," she corrected with a hiss, turning to match her positioning with his dodge. She had no trouble balancing on top of the mess, her movements graceful as she pivoted her footing on the side of the fallen shelves.

The levity of what he had tried to do kept pulsing over her, bringing with it waves of indignation as she broke it apart. He had acted like he understood. And she-- she had wanted to believe-- because he wasn't the only one that had recognized parallels. She had seen his desperation for control on her ship. He didn't trust his people. She could see his scars-- and he--

He played with her.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this,"

"Shut up," She snapped. And it was was the last thing he'd have her say, her legs sinking into stance. And then she attacked.

Her blade twisted in arcs through the air, whipping quickly from form to form as she pressed for an opening. It was unrelenting, as smooth as water rushing in to a damn. Where there were cracks, she would press to slip through. He had always had her running, her back to him was his turf. Facing him head on was a different matter. Her size meant nothing when he had to break past her guard.

Her guard was deadly. She was going no where.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

"Shut up,"

Were it so easy, he thought.

There wasn't any time to keep thinking as arcs of malicious blue struck toward him. His own saber came to meet them, weapon oscillating to parry with either blade one after the other. The sudden rush of offense forced Zaavik back a step as the defensive twirl of verdant plasmatic edges only just managed to bat away the strikes. Another step back. Zaavik felt a tug on his jacket followed by a hiss. A sliver leather and zipper incinerated by a the stray followthrough of a poorly parried attack.

A final step back. His heel caught the door, the rubber sole of his bootheel squeaking down to the floor. Nowhere left to go. A searing pain assaulted the flesh of his tricep near the elbow. Leather hissed as it burned away, a glancing blow turning flesh to black in an instant. He bared his teeth with a vague intonation of pain. Another strike came from the left. Zaavik smacked it away with a wild parry, saber blades popped and sizzled from the impact.

Zaavik used the opening to release one hand from the hit and throw it backward to slap the door control. A reverse step into the newly unobstructed door threshold brought him just beyond the reach of the next strike. Zaavik threw a feint to the right, pulling back at the last moment and shoving both hands forward to send the inert metallic center of his hilt towards the bridge of Aradia's nose.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Aradia jerked, the hilt clipping her temple. Pain blossomed, her vision dancing. She didn't let her guard drop, but it bought him the breathing space to make it through the door and catch his footing.

She hissed, touching her temple and pulling back to find blood. It flowed freely down her forehead, the first drop sliding past her eye. Her attention snapped back onto him, the hit drawing a scowl across her lips.

"All that time Allyson spent away has left you sloppy," she stated softly, seeking a flinch of pain across his expression. Her chest throbbed, aching with the embarrassment his false pity had left her with.

The moment her words registered on his face, she assaulted him with a telekinetic barrage right towards his gut. She followed it in with an Ataru flip out the door, corkscrewing into a weighted slash over his metal arm.

"You're pathetic!" She screamed, her voice raw from the pain that she reflected onto him.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

The soft reluctance in his face shifted to sharp malice almost instantly. A sharp exhale as his nostrils flared, teeth bared from beneath curled lips. He reared back for a strike, biting at the bait almost instantly. Alas, a collection of small, unseen forces slammed into his gut, catching him off guard and extracting a cough that sputtered with a backward stumble. Vision broke into doubles, a wheeze rushing into his lungs. Unconsciousness only narrowly avoided by some unexplained force of will.

A pang of feat nudged at him. Near-breathless he pivoted on his heels to meet her ascent over him. Prosthetic hand snatched forward, cortosis lining trapping the blue plasma with impunity. Arm shook with exertion as he slowly pulled the saber down and to the side like an off-kilter lever. "Veina," queen, he forced through clenched teeth. "Keep that name out of your mouth."

Zaavik's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A half step forward added momentum to the forward torque of his shoulders as he sent his forehead recklessly downwards toward the crown of her skull.

She let him, her whole being falling into the welcoming embrace of the darkside. Energy rushed forward and rippled over her skin. He slammed into a solid barrier, her teeth grinding at the faint echo of pain that made it through. He would have it worse. Ashin Cardé Varanin lesson had been worth the payment.

She beheld him evenly, blood dripping down her face as she took in his fury.

"Who's the sith now?" He knee went up, a foot aiming to kick him in the gut and buy her space. At the same time, her wrist twisted, trying to break her saber free. She had told him to shut up-- go away. Leave her alone! But in that length of time a change had slowly crept over her. An edge entered her eyes, the soft girl turning hard. What mattered before mattered less now. Now she wanted him to flinch. Now she wanted him to know the pain he mocked.

"Admit it." She taunted again, walking forward with those exacting steps. The same one he had stalked her with that night on Life Day.

"You're hypocrites. The lot of you. Hate me if you want-- fine! But stop pretending you're any better for it, OWN WHO YOU ARE!" She lunged at him, one breath away from resuming her flurry of sword work.

This wasn't what she came to Bastion for, but it felt good.

 

[Romi Jade]

Location: Ravelin
Allies: NIO
Enemies: TSE and Allies
Engaging: Other Space Kaiden


Her eyes worked up, left, and when they went right her head followed suit. She backpedalled slowly, widening her stance and tilting her shoulders in. The deep guttural that was this voice went right through her lithe frame -- whatever it was sounded large

Why was it that she always got stuck fighting beings much larger than her while Coren and Cotan got the hot girls to do battle with....

She worked a continuously slow pivot, sprawling her senses over a 360 distance but they weren’t as strong in this miasma. "Is it now?" she teased sarcastically. The screeching sound prompted her to turn deftly, the pulsing surge of power that illuminated from stone lit an iridescent sheen visible on Romi's face and jacket arms. "Well, I can tell you I won't be sitting around waiting for that to happen."

Eternal Horde?

"Eternal Horde you say? Sounds greatly exaggerated..." She retorted.

Vulcanus scanned the area for his guest, sniffing the air. "I smell your blood. It is potent, Jedi. Much more potent than the weakling I faced on Korriban. I will savor the taste."

"That's exactly what you don't want to do..." She shot back.

"Alright." she murmured under her breath. Sensing his exact location was hard...the scattering of the smog worked in his favor, but it was also covering his movement -- if he hadn't found her yet then maybe it was shrouding her too for a few seconds at least.

She inhaled...and exhaled slowly...

She repeated that process, but on the last exhale she emitted a vibration sound from her mouth -- she was controlling her larynx to reach a frequency she'd only done once before. Those waves shot throughout the area and subsequently returned; the feedback was the key. She knew where he was now. At least what direction he was in.

She pivoted on the ball of her heel while thumbing her scarlet fire to life, she could feel him encroaching on her just a few seconds before. But, when she whirled around she saw his towering figure cutting through the white miasma.

"Well now...there you are."

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Cotan Sar'andor​

Of course he had not been caught. It was easy to see, and it had been easy to guess, but it had nudged the ball and got it rolling. Stepping aside, throwing the cloak back at her attack.

She didn’t let it entangle her sword or carry it away.

Upon touching the blade, the fabric split effortlessly, edges smouldering from the heat rolling of the metal. It warped the air around it as embers and the acrid stench of burning matter filled the air around it.

Zaudraka hungered.

She didn’t let him finish his quips, but chased him.

From the end of the thrust, she stepped sideways up the stairs and gripped the sword handle with both hands as it flashed around in a blinding, high cut at Cotan’s head. Through proper structure and her immense physicality, the strikes came effortlessly, but carried both speed and weight.

Even if the blade didn’t cut, the weight of the blow was trouble enough.

But she did not let it rest on a simple cut.

Winding the blade after the blow, she turned the tip toward Cotan and continued to press the attack through the threat of the point, jabbing it swiftly at his eyes as she sought to pressure him down the stairs.

 

[Gordon]

Allies: NIO | GA | Savoh Muska | Fiolette Fortan | Scourge Harz | Naier Rambeigh | Var Koon | Dracken Pryce | Gallius Orcana
Enemies: TSE | CIS | EE | Seela Leini | Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Aut-X | Thaelius | Onrai ​

DEATH ROLL
Orbit of Bastion​

Gordon stared as mayhem descended onto the skirmishing starfighters and corvettes sent in by the New Imperial Order to keep the Sith Empire on their advance forward.

Admiral Var Koon of the 7th Fleet's Battle Group 'GILAD PELLAEON' had aggressively hedged a bet on the New Imperial forces being able to persist until their reinforcements arrived. However, if they lost their naval superiority over the orbit of Bastion for even a moment, then all the New Imperial lives down below would be forfeit, left to their fate of being vaporized into nothingness through endless orbital strikes or slaughtered by the full deployment of an endless horde of Sith cultists. And from the scattered and chaotic communications being intercepted through the intense fighting, the odds that the New Imperial armies would be able to hold their ground against the waves of Sith that had managed to get past the New Imperial Armada were uncertain.

He prayed that the Baran Do Sage's predictions were correct. Even his intensive calculations factoring nearly all the parameters of this battle left the New Imperial with extremely low odds. Odds Gordon himself would never bet on, but the ways of the Force were mysterious. As a true New Imperial, he put his faith into the Imperator. A man that could defy all odds and rise as the victor, as he had countless proven again and again since the inception of the New Imperial Order.

His holoprojector burst to life as Major Flask, the tactical officer of his attack wing commanded.

"Continue your advance toward the Gor....

Eng...nemy in............er fall................run!"

The holoprojector broke into complete static as an invisible pulse scrambled the comms and his sensors. Even the targeting computer was baffled to an extent, and Gordon quickly readjusted everything to manual control. Peeling off the convoy surrounding the TIE/HB Bruisers, the other TIE/INx Interceptors in his squadron followed in suite, independently engaging enemy targets in the nearby vicinity. The neatly organized formation of the attack wing broken into complete disarray, as TIE/OTx Outlanders and TIE/INx Interceptors whizzed around, dodging an onslaught of anti-fighter laser fire from the nearby battlecruisers and proceeding to brawl with the opposing Sith Starfighters. As all comms were down, they hunkered down on their last official order to engage in their bombing run of the Gorgon.

Gordon silently calculated and recalibrated his systems, following up on his initial engagement with Seela Leini .

From there, she zoomed past the interceptor in a dangerous high speed pass, having not yet confirmed the effects of her shots on her target as she pushed the throttle. As she scanned her eyes across her sensor readout, a lock warning began to blare against her ears. A quick glance at the array told her the direction of the proton torpedoes ( Gordon ) relative to her position, approaching her interceptor from above and towards her right. As such, she banked her machine in that exact direction and plane, executing a textbook break turn while simultaneously activating her craft’s sensor dampener with the deft flick of a switch, in an attempt to jam the sensors of the torpedoes and the bandit presumably moving towards her tail.

The first torpedo sailed wide, but the second still held a lock in spite of the jamming and the sudden maneuver. All the while, the throbbing sensation of strain in her chest had returned, owing to the intense g-forces she had pulled in executing the hard break turn. The press of a button on her life support chest piece pumped more painkillers into her system, numbing the aching chest pain from her broken ribs that were suddenly placing yet more pressure on her lungs. Then, with a deep and slightly raspy breath, she pulled her interceptor into a series of high-G displacement rolls, constantly shifting the plane of her machine while rolling in an effort to evade the incoming proton warhead.

And yet…

The proton torpedo went off, not at an optimal detonation range, but still retaining enough energy to send her interceptor spinning on a course to strike the hull of the Gorgon. The concussive force from the blast threw her head into the control sticks, the howl of alarms blaring in her ears keeping her conscious as she sought to regain control of her damaged TIE. The taste of blood on her tongue was an afterthought as she pulled the control sticks, her fingers darting across switches in a desperate dance of life and death. Nevertheless, by some miracle, she managed to shift her interceptor into an optimal position, recovering control of the machine with only seconds to spare before what would have been a violent impact.[/SIZE]

As Gordon watched one of the proton torpedos ping the Sith Interceptor off its course and into the hull of the Gorgon, he smirked. Slightly altering his course to chase after the damaged Sith Interceptor, he throttled his TIE/INx Interceptor to maximum speeds.

The internal Tempest A.I. linked with the STS-84 Artemis Class Targeting & Sensor System and flashed a warning, suggesting a more optimal flight path for an engagement with a higher probability of increased accuracy. Dismissing the warning, Gordon knew if he did not increase the volatility and variation within his piloting that any good Sith Imperial gunner would easily be able to predict his flight trajectory and blast him out of space.

Syncing his neural cybernetics with the TIE/INx Interceptor's centralized droid brain, he took greater control over the starship's exact mechanisms and subsystems. Specifically, he aimed to have complete control over the ship's inertial compensator.

Staring down the enemy fighter pilot, he grinned madly as the insane bloodthirstiness of this particular Tempest A.I.'s design bled into his neural fields.

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Joycelyn Zambrano Vaulkhar

​

Must've touched a nerve.

Cotan ducked slightly under the high blow, letting it sail over his head as he ended his dialogue early; then, twisting, he voided the thrust entirely. A quick step backwards made space again, shifting their line of engagement another ninety degrees. Then, Cotan raised his blade slightly, ready to shift into a proper parry if necessary, as he started ascending the stairs back to the peak. He wasn't about to let himself be easily pushed back down to the site of the rest of the fighting; he could just as easily involve himself in that side of the battle once the Empress Zambrano was dealt with.

First, though, he would lead her to the peak, keeping her out of the rest of the battle, and prepared to lay her low just like she had done with her own brother.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

Pain throbbed in his forehead as he pulled back from the impact. Aradia's blood smeared now across his face from the aggressive contact, crimson ichor contrasting against the brighter reds of his skin. At the very least, he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon her. Against the blood-black smears, the crystalline mirrors in his skull shone even brighter than before. An entirely different intensity than those opposite of him, however. It wasn't anger, that had faded as soon as it sparked, No, instead it was a certainty. Certainty that he wouldn't lose. Certainty that Aradia needed help. Certainty that this wouldn't be in vain.

A barrage of cerulean strikes approached with a precise hatred. Alternating between blades, Zaavik parried each with deft, deceptively effortless looking strokes. Every return strike he threw was deliberately aimed to injure or disarm, but not to kill. It didn't matter, as none found purchase past her guard. Plasma sizzled on plasma, flashes of light illuminating in quick snaps with every moment of contact. A final clash saw their weapons lock together, the two of them struggling against each other's strength. While it'd been made painfully clear in previous encounters that Zaavik would easily overpower the waifish Sith, this time she met him with everything he could give, as if she had some inhuman surge of strength.

The work of the dark side, no doubt.

"You're right," he said. "I'm a hypocrite." He wouldn't indulge her accusations as a generalized picture of the entire Jedi Order, though. It wasn't his place to speak for them, or declare what they were. He was only a Knight, and a fresh one at that. Zaavik was a hypocrite, but a hypocrite was in many cases just a man trying to change. It was often those who criticized, however, who were trying to hide what they themselves lacked. "If I hated you-" he said, trailing off for a moment as he summoned his own surge of strength to avoid being overwhelmed. "I wouldn't be trying to help you."

Zaavik shoved forward, freeing himself from the clash and gliding backward on feet kept low the floor. He twirled once over, adjusting himself through the corridor and braced for the next barrage. If he was going to be on the back foot, at the very least he'd take the liberty of leading the fight locale. She could press all she wanted but had to follow where he retreated. He'd need to retain some semblance of control if this was going to ever turn in his favor.

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
Strike Team Skywalker
LIGHTSABER

Aboard the Prosperity...

"Twenty more minutes, Ryv," Arcanus' voice chimed from across the deck.

Ryv nodded and moved back to the terminal. He activated the intercom once again. "We're twenty minutes out. I repeat, twenty minutes from now, we'll be dropping from hyperspace to engage the enemy. Saber Squadron has point. Maynard, get everyone together and make sure y'all are ready to cut open a path through whatever separates us from the planet's surface. Okkeus, not sure where you are, buddy, but link up with Maynard. He'll find a place for you with Saber. Anyone else with starfighter experience, do the same. The longer it takes to reach the surface, the more folks we'll lose to the Sith. I'll be down at the hangar in fifteen. Loske, make sure the Chieftain preps my fighter."

He paused and looked away from the terminal, his hand taken with him. Spotting Asmundr not far from him, Ryv hurried over.

"Hey, Master Varobalder," he stopped midstep, mimicking the same bow he offered Arcanus earlier. "I'm gonna leave Prosperity under your care. After what happened on Korriban, I don't think it's fair to bring you onto the battlefield if you're gonna link us all together like that. Keep in close contact with Saber-Squadron in case the Sith or Confederates focus too heavily on us. And like I said to Master Sunstrider, do not risk the temple for us. This place is a repository of knowledge that will outlive all of us if we're smart about it."

With a smile, Ryv reached up and placed a hand on the Jedi Master's broad shoulder. "It feels weird issuing orders to you, Master. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm stepping out of line, but thank you. Without you, I'm not sure I'd manage."

In a whirl, the kiffar pivoted on his heel, hurrying back to the terminal.

"Ryv, we have word from Master Fel," Arcanus called out. "It appears they are on schedule to arrive shortly before we do. Lucien Dooku is believed not to be far behind. What would you have me do?"

"Tell Rurik we're right behind him. If anything happens, lemme know," Ryv wiped at his face with his gloved hand. He took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. The battle drew closer. With each passing second, he could feel death and despair much easier than before. The New Imperials fought on, the forward agents of the New Jedi Order beside them. Only time would tell if it is enough, but the Sword knew he could strengthen their chance of victory. No matter the cost, no matter how hard the fight. The New Jedi Order would never surrender. The Spark of Hope would shine bright alongside the New Imperial's Will of Defiance.

Before he could engage the intercom, a hand found its way to his shoulder. Ryv turned, smiling at the sight of Ripley's beautiful, cobalt eyes.

“Hey,” she began. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful out there, okay?”

Those words, though unheard for so long, were not unfamiliar to the Sword. Flashes of a beautiful Corellian crossed his mind. How many times had she asked the same of him? And what of Auteme? One of his closest friends, she only ever hoped for the best for the kiffar. To hear Ripley say the same, to gently caress his shoulder, to smile as she met his gaze. He realized, at that moment, she mattered more to him than he'd realized. Nights of unchecked passion often led to afternoon picnics with her at his side. No matter how difficult he was, no matter the scars across his body or the trauma inflicted onto his mind, she was patient with him. She cared for him, just as so many others had before her. His mistakes ruined those chances. This time, things would be different. He would be different.

"Be careful?" he smiled. "Baby girl, careful is my middle name."

"That's a lie," Arcanus said from nearby.

"Dammit," he offered the digital Jedi Master a sideways glance before looking back to Ripley. "If I told you my plan, you might bust a blood vessel, so I'm gonna keep that close to the chest for now," he reached down, taking her hands within his. "But I'll be careful, I promise."

He lifted them up and gently kissed the back of her pink-skinned left hand. "You too, okay? I don't want to hear any more stories about crazy Sith and their wonky blankets. Truth be told," he paused, searching for the right thing to say. "I think, well, I wanna maybe, uh- make this kinda official? Like, when we make it back home, I'd like for you and me to try and tackle the relationship thing. I know it seems sudden. Hell, we're about to break through a Sith blockade to try and break their hold on the planet... We just live dangerous lives. And I'm tired of waiting for a moment of peace to settle down. I think we can make that moment together. If that's cool, I mean."

New Jedi Order: Loske Treicolt | Okkeus Dainlei | Krau Rook | Asmundr Varobalder | Ripley Kühn | Aelys
New Imperial Order: Rurik Fel

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」​

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「FIVE SECONDS」​

A quiet, stifled gasp quietly compensated for the lack of air in his lungs. Chest and shoulders rose with each subsequent breath in an exaggerated fashion. "Foitan banas," fuck's sake, he bleated as he rubbed his throat with his right hand.

Five seconds had passed.

"Thirty seconds?" Zaavik scoffed, upper lip curling with vexation. "This is gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds, you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Five more seconds passed.

He sighed. No preparations as to what he was going to say had been made prior. This entire endeavor had been spontaneous, and he was playing it by ear for better or worse. "No tricks," he reassured begrudgingly. He showed his hands, turning them once over and them back, keeping them where she could see them. "You're torn up about what happened here, it doesn't take an empath to figure it out. I get it, I really do. I've been there too, believe it or not. Not just losing everyone, but to death's door as well."

Five seconds left.

"The residual echoes gave me a vision; I saw you die here, in the courtyard, nearly drowning in your own blood. I don't know how you're still here-"

Time's up.

"But I know it wasn't the work of any Sith."

Zaavik had been counting the seconds in his head, he was ready to snap his hand down to his saber if he had to. Yet, still he continued regardless.

"I know you don't want to let anything like that happen again. Not even just to yourself, either. But you're on the wrong path. The Sith do that kind of shit on a planetary scale on a near-constant basis. I can see the good in you, you mean well, but you're misguided."

There was a pause, Zaavik gauging the atmosphere before his next sentiment.

"I came here because I can help you."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Her heart pulsed in her ear, the tip of her saber subtly wavering with each internal thump thump thump. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Her thoughts raced, her eyes searching for a sign of mockery. The boy was as serious as stone, an earnest edge to him imploration. He saw her. It disarmed her.

Was this an apology?

The saber lowered a centimeter, her chest puffing in distress as he painted a picture of that day. She didn't like to think about her death. She didn't like that he knew about it. Standing before him, she felt vulnerable. Raw.

Confused.

It distracted her from an off set of words, her gaze boring into him-- Hungry for recognition, desperate to feel whole again. Thirty seconds had come and gone, and he still held her attention.

"How?" She asked, her voice tight and mistrusting.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」
​

Getting this far was unexpected. Every expectation was that she'd try to strike him down the moment he finished speaking. At least he was getting somewhere. It was a much better start than he could have realistically hoped for. Though, he was beginning to understand that the closer he got, the thinner the tightrope would get. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for anything other than a full send. Beyond the walls of the redoubt, the battle raged indifferent to this encounter. Every breath taken in silence was time wasted.

"You're in pain. Desperate to scrub a layer of soot from your skin that won't wash away. Hate won't be a solvent, it'll only bring you more suffering. I know what happened was wrong, horrible, but we can do our damndest no make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You don't trust me, I know, and to be honest, I'm not exactly your biggest fan either."

Zaavik slowly offered out his hand. Durasteel-cortosis alloy glittering with a weathered sheen beneath the artificial light overhead.

"But it's my duty to help you. Not just as a Jedi, but as someone who's been exactly where you are. That wound will fester forever, it's not something you can just forget, but you can soothe it. It would be unfair and dishonest to try to convince you otherwise. We can't ever make it right, but we can do right by you. Come with me, leave the Sith behind, open your eyes to a better path. You can make a difference this way, a crusade for vengeance isn't going to save anyone, it's only going to eat you up inside."

"Isn't it already?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

He had her. He really did. His words hit feelings she had never been able to give names to. He said it like it was. He validated her, no excuses. No blame on her.

Goosebumps speckled up her arms, a surreal prick of emotions hitting her tear ducts. For a moment, it felt okay. To feel. To hurt. It was horrible. It was wrong! And she deserved to hear it-- she deserved-

"Come with me, leave the Sith behind,--"

Her expression froze, the emotions bleeding from the planes of her face. And that was the exact moment everything he had to say meant diddly chit.

"You're trying to recruit me," she said, a dangerous edge to the emotionless statement. She beheld the cornered jedi, the tight rope he walked held taunt, moments from snapping.

Or maybe it already had.

She left him to sweat it out, her hand clenching on her hilt as she took a single, harmless step towards him. "Why?"

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」​

"Recruit you?" A humorous scoff slipped wryly from between his lips. "Ostensibly, maybe. Though, not even I would be so naive to think I, or anyone for that matter, may make a Jedi out of you." Zaavik smirked briefly, his glare softening in a non-aggressive fashion. "I thought about it, and maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see it." The offered hand dropped halfway, making room for her approach while also retreating in a paranoid touch-avoidant gesture. Ironic, given the nature of the gesture in the first place.

"I'm sure plenty would've said the same about me, though." Truthfully, he himself was quite possibly the worst excuse for a Jedi he'd ever met. Knighting had felt like a sham, war hero commendation too, he didn't deserve anything. That's why he was trying to earn it now, make a difference. Whether it was the truth or his own twisted perspective on himself changed nothing. What he'd done all the way up to where he stood now couldn't ever be changed. You had to live with these things.

"I just want to help you, like I said. Jedi or otherwise, just not a Sith. The Dark Side is voracious, and it devours you with every passing second. So too, is the hate that you bottle. Mine has already eaten more of my than I can ever hope to get back. I don't want that for anyone. Not even a Sith."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

A dry laugh caught in her chest, his words earning a near roll of her eyes. "Oh when you put it that way. I'm flattered." She kept approaching, her steps lazy yet pointed as she drove him back. There was no window in this room. There was no escape spare the door at her back. She bounced the saber in her hand, the tip held off to the side.

"You know. For a moment I thought you might actually be decent. But I'm so stupid," she cursed, her head shaking in passionate dismissal. "Such an idiot to think I could actually get understanding out of someone like you. You spout the craziest chit, you know that? As if I'd abandon the people that need me." She pointed the saber his way, its length bouncing haphazardly as she gestured. "The people you want to kill." The blue hue reflected in her eyes, intense as her fury broke free.

"You will never. Speak. Of my pain. Again," she uttered, her voice rasping with righteous indignation. Firey hot tears boiled over, the wounds of her past laid open and bare. It was his fault. For prying. For being a prick. For taking part in the systematic murder of people-- he was no savior. He was no hero. She didn't buy his excuses. She saw him as he was and she held him to it.

"I hate you!"

She descended on him in a flurry, streak of red and blue as she went to deliver a silencing blow across his neck.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

A grimace materialized over Zaavik's face when the laugh reached his ears. The final thread on the rope had finally broken. Whatever silver he had on that tongue of his clearly hadn't been worth its weight in words this time. Fingers twitched, muscles in his body near-trembling with anticipation of whatever twitch-reaction he'd need to make next to save his skin.

Every opportunity he had to retort was stifled by her continual rebuke. Words had probably outgrown their usefulness now. Cerulean eyes followed the blue droning of saber tip as she whisked it around with the camber of her words. He wasn't listening anymore. She was going to strike, it was clear, all attention reallocated to the secret top priority of this entire endeavor: not dying.


"I hate you!"

Couldn't help but hear that part, though. Visions of the saber's trajectory flooded his middle-consciousness with a pang of danger only split-instant before she began to strike. Eyes widened suddenly, head reeling back along with the bending of knees. Spine and sinew contorted suddenly into a low backward lean, slipping just beneath the would-be deathblow. He snapped back up, snatching his saber on the way up and sending the viridescent blade screaming to life with the distinct hiss that only a lightsaber could make.

A step back sought to put space between them, but his back bumped the wall halfway in. He pointed his saber forward in a defensive gesture and half-shrugged wryly. "Well, welcome the club then, I guess."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

She screamed in his face, the motion senseless and even wild as he made light of her pain. There was insult in what he had just tried to do. There was pain in the pain he tried to use against her-- pain he was responsible for.

She would not be manipulated. She would hold him accountable.

She felt so foolish.

The room surged with energy, dark and twisted. She jumped up, her head brushing the high stone ceiling. The energy imploded, telekinetic tendrils ripping the shelving off the walls. In her fury, she was stronger. The metal units went tumbling down towards him. She fell after it, her hair flowing around her like a vengeful halo as she came down with an overhead strike.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

Pupils dilated to a black speck on a cerulean backdrop. Adrenaline coursed along with the force, every muscle revving for their next move. A second hand grasped his saber hilt, thumb sliding over to press the activator to send the second blade erupting from the opposite end. Controlled arcs of verdant light sundered shelf and linen as they careened toward him on either side. Plasma hissed against metal and fabric, leaving a burnt smell in the air expanding from the long, black scars left in the objects.

Zaavik turned his chin up, meeting her snarling rage head-on with a stern look of determination. Blue and green screeched together, one of his blades catching the oncoming strike from overhead. The blade to the opposite cut into the wall behind him as the hilt turned with an accommodating camber. The light from the clashing blades strobed a vibrant cyan.

He pressed forward, kicking his foot off the wall and freeing himself from the clash. His frame spun in a tilted corkscrew, his boots knocking into a ceiling panel and jarring it out of place. He landed on the other side of her with a broken shelf clattering beneath the impact of his feet. Elbows pulled back, and one shoulder reached over to hold the saber alongside him at head-level; Juyo's closest equivalent to a fool's guard.

"We don't have to fight," he declared calmly. Illumination droned and sputtered against his face, melding with the light vermillion to manifest a hazy yellow sheen over his visage. "You know how this is gonna end; the same way it did the last two times." Her shoulder and side were testaments to the iron grip he'd kept on the upper hand between them.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this," he implored, ever persistent.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

"One time," she corrected with a hiss, turning to match her positioning with his dodge. She had no trouble balancing on top of the mess, her movements graceful as she pivoted her footing on the side of the fallen shelves.

The levity of what he had tried to do kept pulsing over her, bringing with it waves of indignation as she broke it apart. He had acted like he understood. And she-- she had wanted to believe-- because he wasn't the only one that had recognized parallels. She had seen his desperation for control on her ship. He didn't trust his people. She could see his scars-- and he--

He played with her.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this,"

"Shut up," She snapped. And it was was the last thing he'd have her say, her legs sinking into stance. And then she attacked.

Her blade twisted in arcs through the air, whipping quickly from form to form as she pressed for an opening. It was unrelenting, as smooth as water rushing in to a damn. Where there were cracks, she would press to slip through. He had always had her running, her back to him was his turf. Facing him head on was a different matter. Her size meant nothing when he had to break past her guard.

Her guard was deadly. She was going no where.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」​

"Shut up,"

Were it so easy, he thought.

There wasn't any time to keep thinking as arcs of malicious blue struck toward him. His own saber came to meet them, weapon oscillating to parry with either blade one after the other. The sudden rush of offense forced Zaavik back a step as the defensive twirl of verdant plasmatic edges only just managed to bat away the strikes. Another step back. Zaavik felt a tug on his jacket followed by a hiss. A sliver leather and zipper incinerated by a the stray followthrough of a poorly parried attack.

A final step back. His heel caught the door, the rubber sole of his bootheel squeaking down to the floor. Nowhere left to go. A searing pain assaulted the flesh of his tricep near the elbow. Leather hissed as it burned away, a glancing blow turning flesh to black in an instant. He bared his teeth with a vague intonation of pain. Another strike came from the left. Zaavik smacked it away with a wild parry, saber blades popped and sizzled from the impact.

Zaavik used the opening to release one hand from the hit and throw it backward to slap the door control. A reverse step into the newly unobstructed door threshold brought him just beyond the reach of the next strike. Zaavik threw a feint to the right, pulling back at the last moment and shoving both hands forward to send the inert metallic center of his hilt towards the bridge of Aradia's nose.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

Aradia jerked, the hilt clipping her temple. Pain blossomed, her vision dancing. She didn't let her guard drop, but it bought him the breathing space to make it through the door and catch his footing.

She hissed, touching her temple and pulling back to find blood. It flowed freely down her forehead, the first drop sliding past her eye. Her attention snapped back onto him, the hit drawing a scowl across her lips.

"All that time Allyson spent away has left you sloppy," she stated softly, seeking a flinch of pain across his expression. Her chest throbbed, aching with the embarrassment his false pity had left her with.

The moment her words registered on his face, she assaulted him with a telekinetic barrage right towards his gut. She followed it in with an Ataru flip out the door, corkscrewing into a weighted slash over his metal arm.

"You're pathetic!" She screamed, her voice raw from the pain that she reflected onto him.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

The soft reluctance in his face shifted to sharp malice almost instantly. A sharp exhale as his nostrils flared, teeth bared from beneath curled lips. He reared back for a strike, biting at the bait almost instantly. Alas, a collection of small, unseen forces slammed into his gut, catching him off guard and extracting a cough that sputtered with a backward stumble. Vision broke into doubles, a wheeze rushing into his lungs. Unconsciousness only narrowly avoided by some unexplained force of will.

A pang of feat nudged at him. Near-breathless he pivoted on his heels to meet her ascent over him. Prosthetic hand snatched forward, cortosis lining trapping the blue plasma with impunity. Arm shook with exertion as he slowly pulled the saber down and to the side like an off-kilter lever. "Veina," queen, he forced through clenched teeth. "Keep that name out of your mouth."

Zaavik's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A half step forward added momentum to the forward torque of his shoulders as he sent his forehead recklessly downwards toward the crown of her skull.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
​

She let him, her whole being falling into the welcoming embrace of the darkside. Energy rushed forward and rippled over her skin. He slammed into a solid barrier, her teeth grinding at the faint echo of pain that made it through. He would have it worse. Ashin Cardé Varanin lesson had been worth the payment.

She beheld him evenly, blood dripping down her face as she took in his fury.

"Who's the sith now?" He knee went up, a foot aiming to kick him in the gut and buy her space. At the same time, her wrist twisted, trying to break her saber free. She had told him to shut up-- go away. Leave her alone! But in that length of time a change had slowly crept over her. An edge entered her eyes, the soft girl turning hard. What mattered before mattered less now. Now she wanted him to flinch. Now she wanted him to know the pain he mocked.

"Admit it." She taunted again, walking forward with those exacting steps. The same one he had stalked her with that night on Life Day.

"You're hypocrites. The lot of you. Hate me if you want-- fine! But stop pretending you're any better for it, OWN WHO YOU ARE!" She lunged at him, one breath away from resuming her flurry of sword work.

This wasn't what she came to Bastion for, but it felt good.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

Pain throbbed in his forehead as he pulled back from the impact. Aradia's blood smeared now across his face from the aggressive contact, crimson ichor contrasting against the brighter reds of his skin. At the very least, he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon her. Against the blood-black smears, the crystalline mirrors in his skull shone even brighter than before. An entirely different intensity than those opposite of him, however. It wasn't anger, that had faded as soon as it sparked, No, instead it was a certainty. Certainty that he wouldn't lose. Certainty that Aradia needed help. Certainty that this wouldn't be in vain.

A barrage of cerulean strikes approached with a precise hatred. Alternating between blades, Zaavik parried each with deft, deceptively effortless looking strokes. Every return strike he threw was deliberately aimed to injure or disarm, but not to kill. It didn't matter, as none found purchase past her guard. Plasma sizzled on plasma, flashes of light illuminating in quick snaps with every moment of contact. A final clash saw their weapons lock together, the two of them struggling against each other's strength. While it'd been made painfully clear in previous encounters that Zaavik would easily overpower the waifish Sith, this time she met him with everything he could give, as if she had some inhuman surge of strength.

The work of the dark side, no doubt.

"You're right," he said. "I'm a hypocrite." He wouldn't indulge her accusations as a generalized picture of the entire Jedi Order, though. It wasn't his place to speak for them, or declare what they were. He was only a Knight, and a fresh one at that. Zaavik was a hypocrite, but a hypocrite was in many cases just a man trying to change. It was often those who criticized, however, who were trying to hide what they themselves lacked. "If I hated you-" he said, trailing off for a moment as he summoned his own surge of strength to avoid being overwhelmed. "I wouldn't be trying to help you."

Zaavik shoved forward, freeing himself from the clash and gliding backward on feet kept low the floor. He twirled once over, adjusting himself through the corridor and braced for the next barrage. If he was going to be on the back foot, at the very least he'd take the liberty of leading the fight locale. She could press all she wanted but had to follow where he retreated. He'd need to retain some semblance of control if this was going to ever turn in his favor.

He admitted it too easily. It did nothing-- soothed nothing. She needed to see his pain, she needed him to know. She descended on him, her thoughts bleeding away as the fight took over. She didn't think, Kaalia and taught her that just got in the way. She felt. Instincts and the force guided every unrelenting strike she rained down on him.

It was different, being the pursuer. The control was in her hands this time. She wasn't willing to let it go.

"If I hated you-I wouldn't be trying to help you."

"Right," she scoffed, matching his pace down the hall. "Handing me to my murders, very helpful." Her features contorted with the delayed pain of the reminders, the blue blade twirling twice at her side. She surged forward, an underhanded swing trying to clip up under his armpit. Her strikes were starting to focus around that arm, a push to severe the cybernetic from flesh pursuing.

"You want me dead," she spat, following it with a fluid upward arch that transitioned to clash towards his hip.

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
71st GHOST VIPERS | MAMBA COMPANY
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | GRENADES | MELEE

The ringing echoes splitting the horizon. All too familiar for him. Whether he was born for war was a question with no definite answer, but he certainly was molded by it. The roar of artillery and the wails of blaster fire only increasing and increasing by every passing minute. Its product? Carnage and gore on the streets. A dead mix of soldiers and civilians caught in the crossfires would be a monument to this battle, and who would claim victor to it all? That would be seen after the dust settled when everything was exhausted to achieve victory.

They say that through power the Sith could find victory.

If that much is true, then the Will of Defiance would be its equalizer. That much was proven true when the Sith were broken and left in pieces in the Braxant Run, and the Iron Sun uprooting its vile decadence from the homeland of the Imperial on Bastion. They had fought so much to reclaim what was theirs, and they would fight to a bloody pulp if those that sought to oppress them wanted to take what was theirs. For Djorn? The gloves were off.

If the Sith wanted to find victory here, then they’d have to fight for it. Make them bleed for it. After all, it only took the hearts of courageous men to prove the Galaxy they were nothing to be feared of.

<“Snake, comms are being jammed. We can afford to communicate with units local to us, however. Other than that? We’re dead silent.”>

<“And the source?”>

<“We’re not sure, we’ve yet to identify it. You don’t think...”>

That the enemy already established dominance beyond Bastion’s atmosphere? If that was the case, they’d be outnumbered and have a swarm of bombers destroying their efforts.

<“Nothing has been declared yet, so shut up with your speculation. I only care about our efforts here in this sector until every S-IMP has a blaster bolt between their eyes for good measure. Just keep a damn line working between us and Vindicate.”>

Mamba Company continued to travel on foot towards Lyra and the Red Riders, going through streets and avenues to reinforce the general with overwatch provided by Noel Strasza .

<“Acknowledged and appreciated Dead-“>

<“Oh shit!”>

He remarked loudly at a toppling building, part of its build compromised and tilting to fall down on to the wide duracrete road. Some amounts of rubble enough to obstruct the path they were taking.

<“Crap...no way other than around it. All platoon leaders, meet up at the designated coordinates of Vindicate’s position.”>

The order was acknowledged and complied with. The leadership of each platoon composing of the company would do their best to avoid any skirmishes with the enemy to rendezvous with the others. The city was already underway in becoming another picture away from its former glory. Clouds of dust and debris rising in the air, buildings shattered and left in ruins, and fires eating whatever it could find. Similar when the New Imperials broke the Sith and ushered a period of proper Imperialism back into the planet.

<“Sir, incoming transmission from Vindicate-Actual.”>

<“Let me hear it.”>

<<”Snake, platoons in retreat. Roadblock success. SIMP armor moving, marked on radar. Escorting evacuees now.”>>

Some good news at least. Wasting time for the enemy with a roadblock was optimal for their defense. Every second could mean life or death, victory or defeat. The more they undermined the assault of the Sith, the better change they had in securing victory on Bastion.

However...

<“Lyra...”>

He broke code, calling out to her by her name with a drag on his sentence.

<“Lyra, we can’t waste time in evacuating civilians. We don’t have the time for that. We need to stand our ground, I’m not going to give these bastards another inch on us. We need to win this.”>

It was hard to say those words, but he realized that it was best to optimize their defense against the Sith. The Sith would slaughter every Imperial on the streets, that much was true; however, if they achieved victory here on Bastion, then all their work they had sacrificed and fought for would be in vain. Casualties and collateral damage were an inevitable in war. A noble effort it was to save those that couldn’t save themselves, but that was at the risk of distracting their efforts in pushing back the enemy.

<“Nearing your position, standby.”>

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Lyra Voi'kryt | Kolson Vrask
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Luna Terrik | OPEN