Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Invasion Return of the Jedi | GA Invasion of TSE's Korriban/Felucia Hexes


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Location: Kway Teow - Northern Approach.
Objective: GATE BREACH!
Allies: The Galactic Alliance; Felucian Expeditionary Forces.
Enemies: The Sith Empire.
Equipment: See Signature for Relevant Hyperlinks
NPC Complement: 212th Army Group - 7th Regiment: ~2,560 Alliance Marines.
Status: Besieging and Assaulting Kway Teow.
Morale: Steady - Partially Improving.

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As the Wolfpack advanced as fast as the rugged terrain would allow them, the Armour from the 7th moved to encircle the City. Fighter Tanks raced across the foliage, deftly weaving themselves between towering fungal spires and roving packs of insidious Graug. Some Pilots were unlucky and met their grisly end after falling prey to some improvised trap that punched through their Armour. But, for the rest, who considered themselves lucky? The Barrage mode on their Fighter Tanks didn’t only end up saving their lives, but the lives of their fellow soldiers. Their twinned cannons unleashed a rapid salvo of plasmatic bursts, turning small swathes of the forest to ash as the superheated plasma bathed their surroundings. All that remained in their wake was Scorched earth, a concept that the Sith were all too familiar with and eager to employ when the going got tough.

While utilized in microcosm, the 7th Regiment was pleased that the Sith Empire was finally getting a taste of their own medicine. Even though the damage was far from what was inflicted across the Braxtant Run or the Core Worlds.

Although not as swift as their Fighter Tank brethren, the Recon Walkers found themselves sweeping through the fungal thicket with as much mechanical dexterity that their machines could provide. They trampled the native flora underfoot as they advanced towards embattled units or sought to save those Fighter Tanks who fell prey to the dastardly tricks of the insidious Graug. Some of the Repulsortanks managed to protect themselves from their enemies’ machinations. Still, others were forced to rely on support from additional forces or perished in the process. There were even encounters of bat-like creatures beginning to harry to the outlying elements of their advance. To which the Squadrons of Recon Walkers countered with lobbed incendiary grenades and a storm of fire-linked weaponry. However, that wasn’t an outcome that was shared by every Squadron.

The unlucky ones were stolen from their towering edifices of nano-welded metal and seemingly devoured by the horrors lurking within the jungle. The Natives and Graug alike knew the terrain better than the Alliance. They exploited that advantage at every opportunity to reap a heavy toll upon the 7th Regiment and their allies. But, for every death that was confirmed or speculated through the disruption of their BattleNet, the Alliance was more than keen to avenge their fallen in whatever means were available to them. This world was rife with hostility, and all who raised a weapon against the Valiant men and women of the 7th would be gunned down as an active combatant. They had no choice, for it was either them or the enemy that lived to see the dawn of a new day. There was no moral high-ground that could be taken by either side, for that was the childish realm of politics that mattered little on the battlefield.

The only thing that mattered here was what side won out at the end of the day—nothing more and nothing less. For war... makes murderers of us all.

Considerably slower than their Recon Walker counterparts, the Tactical Enforcers found themselves storming through the fungal underbrush. Their forward cannons were utilized in clearing a path towards their various waypoint markers. Slicing down fungal trees and what remained of the highly-aggressive territorial creatures with little remorse. From a certain point of view, it was saddening that the Alliance was forced to gun down the native fauna. They were the invaders and were destroying their homes in the resounding hopes of defeating their enemy. But, again, the Alliance had no choice. The natives were stirring the local population into a frenzy and setting them loose upon the various Platoons that pushed towards the Capital. There was even an instance of a Jungle Rancor storming forth, roaring with everything it had and charged a nearby tank. Its muscles tensed and flexed as it shouldered into the cockpit, causing the armoured glass to crack. The Pilot encased within was trying everything within their power to break free. The woman threw her control sticks forwards in an attempt to overwhelm the beast with the Walker’s mechanical strength. Yet, all that action did was force the two creatures into a deadlock of nature and its artificial twin.

Such a deadlock seemingly lasted for ages, even as the Walker’s gyros started to spark and strain. Their stalemate was broken through the turret’s initiative affixed to the dorsal surface of the vehicle. The female Marine was ensconced within the turret’s protective shroud and provided fire-support for a nearby platoon with her vehicle’s firepower as the Rancor charged. She never had the chance to shoot the oncoming beast before it was too late. But, as her fellow Pilot struggled to fight back - that decision could now be remedied. She swung her turret towards the cockpit as fast as she could, an action that thwacked the Rancor’s fleshy skull with as much force and momentum that could be garnered. The beast was stunned - and stepped backwards, releasing the Walker from its deadly grip.

As soon as the front struts struck the ground, the Turret gunner opened fire at point-blank range.

Elsewhere, the distant Artillery found itself busy with a slew of danger-close fire missions as well as softening up the Capital City’s defences. Plasmatic hellfire rained down from on high, as magnetic-accelerators utilized the native forces of gravity to guide their respective payloads to their targets. Every shot was confirmed by the calculations garnered by the sight-line probes that remotely transmitted their information back to the selective bombardment line. There couldn’t be any mistakes, as one wrong number could mean that the Alliance was bombarding their own - rather than the enemy’s forces. Thus, through their countless hours of additional training, coupled with the various combat stims keeping them alert, the Artillery Company of the 7th Regiment triple-checked their numbers before pulling the trigger. When that time came - the heavens themselves were torn open, and their enemies were seemingly devastated from afar.

But, for every successful bombardment - there was fire-support that arrived too late. The 7th Regiment was the only Artillery Line that successfully deployed in the assault against the Capital; thus, their firepower was stretched extremely thin. They did their best to support the advancing forces. They couldn’t meet every request, and the Company Commander began assigning each fire mission with a certain level of priority. The demands for fire-support that seemed more urgent would receive immediate bombardment, while others were tasked to occur later. It was the best that the Company Commander could do, but sometimes… it wasn’t enough. The hard choices had to be made, and regardless of their decision - their fellow Marines died. Such thoughts would doubtlessly weigh heavily upon their conscience. Still, through their conditioning, the Unit Commander would put aside such thoughts until later. For now, their concerns were tied only to saving those that they could - and avenging those that they couldn’t.

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Major Dune watched as the Capital City’s northern Gate loomed ever-closer. His Turbo Tank was slow to accelerate as soon as their paths were aligned. Still, the damned vehicle was too big to be dissuaded by any obstacles that sought to slow its momentum once achieved. Conventional tank traps, dragged into the towering vehicle’s path, were simply bashed aside by the forward energy plow and crushed beneath the vehicle’s incredible weight. It was a crude attempt to slow the barreling behemoth’s impetus, but the Alliance Marine mockingly admired their intent. A shame it didn’t work out for them, as it seemed that the closer his Tank got - the more desperate they appeared to become. It was likely they finally realized what their enemy intended to do but were too late to stop it. Thus, they shifted towards softening the blow by whatever means necessary. Sith-Imperial Legionnaires atop the Curtain wall’s parapets began raining down whatever weaponry they had at their disposal. Even going so far as towards retasking whatever light weapon emplacements towards breaking the Turbo Tank’s shields and shooting the metallic driveshafts.

The Turbo Tank’s shields flickered and flared under the brutal assault, but Tycho’s eyes were fixated on the Gate ahead of them. This was the moment where the stalemate would end; the man kept thinking to himself. Where the tide would turn in favour of the Galactic Alliance, and their month-long struggle would finally come to an end. The situation laid before him was a make-or-break moment, and it was only fitting that the Heroes of the Alliance were leading the charge. Such acts of valour would doubtlessly inspire generations to come. Through their actions, the Galaxy would be made safe and free for all living beings. Where they wouldn’t rely on the misguided decisions of the few to navigate their path, instead choosing it for themselves. They would live or die of their own volition. To men like Tycho, who had seen their fair share of the supposed ‘prosperity’ that the Sith Empire valued, such liberties were worth fighting for.

Thus, as the embattled Gate was within reach, Tycho started barking orders into the vehicle’s integrated speakers.

BRACE FOR IMPACT!

BRACE!

BRAC-

His last words were cut short as the Turbo Tank smashed into the towering edifice of metallically-reinforced bone. Through the combination of weight and gathered momentum, the Juggernaut lived up to its name. The pseudo-organic structure splintered upon contact as the Turbo Tank’s shielded plow rammed into the bottom of the Gate. When the door gave way under the sudden impact, the rest of the Juggernaut barreled its way inside the Capital City. The various weaponry that dotted the Tank’s exterior’s surface began firing at entrenched enemy positions from within their defensive perimeter - catching them partially exposed from behind. Doubtless, the entrenched Sith Imperial forces wouldn’t last long under such pressure, but the results didn’t matter as much. Mostly because they were pinned down and unable to reorientate their weaponry. Tycho smiled at that notion as he grabbed his rifle from the wall-mounted weapon rack. Significant portions of the enemy garrison around the northernmost Gate were pinned down now, which meant that his forces could exploit this newly created gap in their defences.

Such information was relayed to the Command Echelons of the attacking Alliance Forces, informing them of their attack’s success and the future deployment of their boots on the ground. It was only a matter of time until the breached Gate was claimed, and the Star-encircled Starbird billowed in the breeze high-above a liberated Kway Teow.

So, with the rifle in hand, and a Platoon of armoured Marines behind his person, Tycho descended through the spinal corridors of the massive Turbo Tank until he reached the lowermost deployment deck. Once there, the Major cycled his rifle and felt it’s lethality rise. As the weapon thrummed to life, the Marine felt his hand begin to shake. It wasn’t out of fear this time. Such notions were forever scrubbed from his thoughts by a lifetime on the frontlines. No, the man’s hand shook because of the anticipation that flooded through his veins. In many respects, the Marine was akin to a Horse locked in the starting gate. All that course through that beast’s mind was the uncontrollable desire to run. Thus, as the green light bathed his surroundings and the metallic door before him parted, Tycho rushed out of the Turbo Tank with his rifle shouldered.

His adrenals were spiking, and the Soldier felt nothing but excitement as he charged headfirst into the fray. As soon as the first step was taken from the Deployment Deck, his mobility shields flared into life as the enemy sought to gun him down. Undaunted by the oncoming assault, and the rapidly depleting shield capacity, Tycho shouldered his rifle and shouted into his Helmet’s comms. These words were rife with aetheric potential as they resonated across the encrypted channels that bound the Troopers in his proximity. When the words faded, only to be replaced by the unmeasured and wordless cries in response, the Major knew that this was the tipping point. Where the single spear thrust into the heart of the enemy would see to their defeat.

His words were simple in their concept and delivery, yet laced as they were with pride and excitement, became more powerful than the man would ever realize. His words were…

"FORWARD! FOR THE ALLIANCE!"

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#ThisPageClaimWasBroughtToYouByTheAlliance<3



 
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S H A D O W
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
VOS // Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
ADVERSARIES // Gnox the Insatiable | Vaylin Vaylin | Maple Harte Maple Harte

KORRIBAN // SITH ACADEMY
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[ WE CAN'T BE FOUND ]
Zaavik tried to resist the dark manipulation of the force that willed him to the Sith Lord's grasp. He beckoned to the strength of his fellow Jedi, but they did not answer. They could not hear him, and he could not feel them. The conduit that harbored their collective being had gone dark. The Padawan was alone. Weak. Afraid. There was only pain. Rendered inadequate in the face of the beast, Zaavik's defense failed and he careened through mid-air towards the Sith's grasp.

Through the pain, his hand raised to call his saber, but his own trajectory was too great. The hit flew past his hand and carried past him and clattered onto the floor beyond. The Beast's claw grasped around his neck, the impact of his arrival causing him to gasp for air through a partially enclosed airway. His unhindered arm reached up, grasping and clawing at his assailant's large extremity which bound him.


It’s either you or him, Locke. One of you ain’t walking out of here.”​


"No," Zaavik protested with a loud rasp, calling out despite the great constrictive pressure. He clicked the heels of his boots together, and a small vibroblade slid out from the sole, pointing forward beyond his toes. He became acutely aware of the blaster in the concealed holster in the back of his waistline. Allyson always told him to never rely too much on his lightsaber. And what would a Shadow be without his tricks?

"It's us, or you."

Sinew and tendon defiantly raised despite the painful protest of the Senxflax and Blood Poison concoction. His afflicted arm grasped the side of Gnox's hand suddenly with a surge of resolute strength. His eyes darted directly toward's the beasts, staring into his voracious abyss with a surge of desperate confidence. "
Eat shit!" The other hand released, retrieving the blaster from behind as the niggling limb heaved him to an angle. His kicked his vibroblade forward towards the Sith's underarm just as the Padawan aimed and fired with a skewed limb towards the beast's face.

No more ultimatums.

 
We all fall in parallel
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NEW JEDI ORDER

OBJECTIVE III: WAVE OF PURITY | POST VI

EQUIPMENT: Blaster Rifle | Armor

SOMEWHERE NEAR THE VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS

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Karn's frustration hit Takui harder than it should have. The unity between Jedi scattered like ashes on the wind. Darkness seeped between cracks, amplifying negativity. Taku's desperation twisted into terror as he remembered Deneba, and the brush with death that drove him to baser instinct brutality.

If he knew then what he did now, he might have remained calm.

"There is no emotion," he whispered as the waves of raw feeling washed over him. Though he was adrift in a vast, dark ocean, the Padawan did have something to keep him afloat. "There is Peace."

It was honestly the only part of the Jedi Code he knew, and he didn't really "know" it. Something about the words just felt... soothing.

Karn, however, devolved into panic. That was unsettling enough to shatter the Padawan's own calm. Taku had to think under pressure. As the Twi'lek Jedi bid him reach out with the Force, he shook his head.

"I can't," he spoke hoarsely, "I can barely even sense the Force, let alone-"

They didn't have time for that, now. Karn struggled with the stone, but behind them, Kenth drowned. Deeper, darker, more hopeless. Terror had gripped his heart and twisted it, and the cold empty void of anger was giving way to hatred.

They needed to push through.

Taku thrust himself up against the stone as Karn tried to lift it. With his body weight and a massive effort, he pushed. He exerted all the energy he had, eyes screwed shut. Unlike many other Padawans, though, he was scrawny and weak.

Maybe, though.

Just maybe...

That surge of urgency might see him through.

 

Gnox the Insatiable

Guest
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LOCATION: Sith Academy, Korriban
OBJECTIVE: Find the Intruders
GEAR: The Butcher
ALLIES: TSE, Vaylin Vaylin , Maple Harte Maple Harte
ENEMIES: GA, Allyson Locke Allyson Locke , Zaavik Perl Zaavik Perl

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Gnox lifted the boy in his grasp up to his height, some feet off the floor. His eyes stayed on the Zeltron's. He made no move to try and stop Zaavik from grabbing his saber. "Little Jedi, you have much to learn." His voice growled out at the saber flew past them both. "If you used your pain, stopped skirting the line between light and dark, you might be able to help your master." Idle musings as he watched the boy struggle. The pain he felt was artificial, but would it lead to his fall? Or was he truly strong in the light?

The large being turned his gaze away to watch the duel in the rafters, humming idly at Vaylin's threat. One or the other? A large, misshapen ear twitched as he heard the protest beside him. The Padawan was going to continue to struggle? His burning red gaze returned to the boy, watching him for a moment. Then the blade struck. There was surprise in his eyes as the vibrodagger ripped through the tendon in his arm. It lowered immediately, his grip gone from the boys throat as his hand hung uselessly by his side. Black blood oozed from his arm, hitting the ground and turning to smoke.

But that wasn't the true danger. The blaster. Laser fire hit Gnox square in the face. He stumbled back a step, the giant looking to fall back in defeat. But he never fell.

A single red eye glared at the Jedi as the beast lowered his head back down. Thick, black smoke covered half of his face where he'd been shot. Smoke that faded to reveal the white of skull and bone. Bare fangs, charred flesh. A terrible, fatal wound. To most. The being of hunger before the Jedi was already healing as he growled.

"Never give up. You would make a strong Sith." A wide, toothy grin would spread across the uninjured half of Gnox's face as he brought his flail back around to slam into the padawan. "Use this pain and you may very well save your master, boy! Or perish alongside her!"
 

Dimitri Voltura

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ALLIES: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius | Other Sith​
ENEMIES: GA/NIO
ENGAGING: Kenth Ordo Kenth Ordo
GEAR:
Cortosis-weave and Force imbued armour | Lightsaber | Force imbued Sith Sword

He had forgotten what it was like.

When the Darkness first takes hold of someone. Demitri felt it now in this young padawan - reminded him. The ancient Sith Lord felt almost saddened by it - to feel the rage take hold in such a young heart. To see it corrupted so soon in the career of this Jedi.

He was no fool, however...

When he felt it building, he instinctively threw up a Force barrier that kept the shockwave that burst from the Jedi, at bay. The Tuk'ata around them we're not as lucky, however.

When the Jedi was on his feet with a bellow, Demitri was already out of his head and had already moved with his inhuman speed, ending up behind the Jedi once more just as Kenth lunged forward. He sent a mild Force Push into the Padawan's back to accelerate his momentum away from the Sith.

"Don't pursue this course of action any further young Jedi. Fight those voices in your head and walk away with integrity." he told Kenth after Pushing him, his saber at the ready again and the Force still close, still drawing from the Nexus. He did not wish to damage this young man further than the Valley had already did. Yet, he would not lie down either. His old home was in peril. He would not see it fall. No amount of Light Side would ever be able to fight back the Darkness that resides here.

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:// POST 5 | OBJECTIVE 3 //:
:// LOCATION: SITH HANGAR //:
:// ALLIES: GA | Kaleleon Kaleleon //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | Onrai Onrai //:

: // EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:




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Ripley fumbled with the door at the end of the corridor, her usual stamina lacking as she combatted the assault to her psyche. At the breaking of the meld, Bogan's fury had been unleashed upon her, relentless attacks tugging at every corner of her mind. She could feel the shadow lurking behind her, waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness. As she came into the hangar bay, her eyes scanned for any threat. None were apparent, all forces likely being sent to meet them when they first entered.

Pulling the bag off her back, her hand reached in to grab the explosives. The cold metal brushed against her palm, though it was nothing compared to the freezing darkness in the force around her.


"Be careful, she is stalling. Steel your nerves and resolve. She had a plan for our separation. Keep your wits about you."

The words sounded through the earpiece, almost startling her as she planted the first bomb on the hull of a ship. She glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting the sith lord to be standing there. Ripley tried to heed the words, searching for any bit of light to assist her, but all she could find was anger, fear, the slimy strands of evil encompassing everything. Fear struck, instinct telling her to run, but there was nowhere to go. Her feet carried her on to the next ship- she didn't see a way out for herself, expecting Onrai's arrival any moment, but she would ensure there was one for the shuttles when they left the atmosphere.


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Aramis Sunstrider

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Location: Korriban's "Surface" -> Valley of the Dark Lords.
Objective: T H U N D E R_P U N C H.
Allies: The New Jedi Order, sworn to the Galactic Alliance.
Enemies: The Sith Order, and their Insidious Empire.
Equipment: Simple Clothing, and the Force.
Currently Engaging: Ulrich Ulrich - the Dragon of Korriban.

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Our bonds may break, but the Balance will prevail.
As Aramis rose from the cinnamon-stained sands, there was something that lingered on the edge of his thoughts that demanded attention. He was an Epicanthix by birth. The man had an inherent genetic resistance to almost every incoming form of telepathy through some inexplicable evolutionary method. Such a boon was indisputable, especially when the Sith were fond of conjuring images in the minds of others. However, it was - in many ways - a double-edged sword. This evolutionary trait made bonding with others difficult, making it almost impossible for melds to be performed without careful consideration and preparation. Long before this excursion into Sith Space commenced, the Jedi Knight met with two others of his kind and began the ritual that would bond them all together when the time came.

He had to let them into his guarded mind, navigating them through the endless corridors. It was an… uncomfortable experience to be laid so bare in the face of others. Still, such discomfort was negligible in the face of what had to be done. They all knew that the darkness of Korriban was powerful and needed to take every precaution to stave off its lingering corruption.

Yet, their bond was proving to be their undoing. Some were unprepared for the consequences of their actions or were entirely untested. They were beginning to falter as they gave in to their emotions rather than controlling them. It was straining the already tenuously connected portions of the meld, making it harder and harder to draw from. The strength of the connection was beginning to fade as Asmundr was pushed towards their limits. While minuscule at best, Aramis could sense the man’s terrible pangs of exhaustion. Such a sensation was amplified even further as the words…

Forgive Me…

… manifested within his thoughts.

Whilst those words began to fade from his mind, Aramis felt the delicate lattice-work that tentatively bound him to his fellow Jedi shatter. It was… a harrowing experience. To have oneself become so open to another, sharing experiences and memories freely with strangers, only for that bond to be broken in the blink of an eye. There was a part of the Jedi’s mind that felt shriven in the face of the sudden absence. Yet, there was another portion that was silently relieved at the withdrawal of the partially unwanted intrusion. The conflict between both sides of his own psyche was made apparent as his patrician features soured from their confident visage. Something, sadly, that wasn’t outwardly shared with his opponent as they took to the skies.

Because of this battle-meld breaking, the Aramis missed his chance to end the fight early and in his favour. He was in the prime position to strike at the creature’s unguarded midsection or even the chitinous shoulder-portion of their wing. One solid punch, naturally enhanced with a measure of his power, would have clipped the beast’s wings. Yet, here they were. There was a part of him that wanted to be angry. To give in to the darkness that bathed his surroundings and rage against the broken meld. But, giving in to the evils that pervaded the cinnamon-hued sands of Korriban - would likely exacerbate the very reasons why the massive telepathic connection was severed. He would become no better than those who chose to proverbially fight at his side.

He had to be better.

Thus, as the man’s thoughts snapped back into reality, Aramis refocused on his draconic foe. His eyes turned away from the particulate debris that slowly began to swallow his feet and rose to meet the rising creature. Its mighty wings were swept wide as it fought against the dying sandstorm for altitude, reinvoking the childish majesty that the Jedi once held for such creatures. Such a notion was cast aside as the winged Dragon began chanting in an all-too-familiar tongue. Sith Magic. While the words were hard to follow from that measured distance, the pulsating intent was clear. The Dragon knew that it was outmatched in martial skill and was forced to adopt new tactics to prevail. Others would’ve considered the creature Cowardly for withdrawing from a fight. But, Aramis wouldn’t hold it against the Sithspawn as they would. It was likely that the Jedi would’ve done the same thing had the shoe been on the other foot.

Through the combination of the spoken incantation and the power laced into every word, their proverbial arena started to reshape. Micro-tremors erupted nearby as the Skeletal Dead from the Ages Long Past began to animate with unholy powers. They were bound to the insidious will of the Dragon, likely seeking to claw and grasp at the Jedi’s clothing, ideally keeping him pinned in place. Should that eventuality come to pass, Aramis would become akin to an ancient and forgotten god. A being who was scorned by their kin for giving lesser beings the incandescent powers of fire - destined to forevermore have their body fed upon by vultures. Even if the myths surrounding that ancient being were true or dramatic recreations, the Jedi wouldn’t allow such a fate to befall his person.

Instead, the Jedi acted scant moments before the Skeletal hands of the animated remains burrowed into his sand-swept shoes.

Just like before, Aramis siphoned a small measure of power from his internal reservoir and redirected its flow towards his legs. Once there, the energies of the Force began to swell his muscles as it infused and enhanced every fibrous strand. There was no other option in the Jedi’s mind. Not when the ground itself was turning into a treacherous morass or reanimated skeletal figures, eager to tear him limb from limb. Therefore, Aramis would need to take to the skies to meet his opponent head-on. In doing so, the Jedi would be capable of severing the ties that bound the disturbed remains by disrupting the Dragon’s concentration. While the Force was an incredible and powerful ally, or unwilling participant, to have at your side - such potential had many balancing drawbacks as well.

Concentration was one of them.

And so, Aramis catapulted himself towards the heavens to meet his descending foe. He felt nothing as he rose to meet his opponent, as the Jedi allowed the Force to flow freely through his crude, mortal matter. It empowered him to make the jump sky-wards. As the two opposing forces began to draw closer - the Force started to crackle around the Jedi’s outstretched fist. Bolts of visible Lightning coruscated around the supple flesh of the Warrior-Monk’s hand, bathing the entire extremity in the conflicting hues of emerald and topaz. The generated light and flashes of alternating colours threatened to blind or even disorientate those who gazed into the enthralling display of power. Yet, such a fate wasn’t the worst of what was to come. No… Aramis wasn’t keen on the idea of wasting his potential with some vaunted light show that would dazzle the senses if allowed.

Instead, if the Dragon’s outstretched fore-limbs connected with this heaven-bound fist, the crackling Lightning would then jump from the Jedi - into the Draconic Creature themselves. The intent behind the attack was not meant to kill, not like the Lightning often employed by the Sith and their kind. This version was something… different. To Aramis, his actions were just. So, the Lightning would seek to cripple the Jedi’s opponent - as it stole the fight from their very extremities, wracking them with spasming muscles and inflamed nerves. It wouldn't kill... No, should the connection be made, it would hurt - a lot - but the intended target would live.

Temporarily crippling it, on the other hand, was well within the realm of possibilities to transpire next.

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:// Reference Links:
 
In Umbris Potestas Est
Kaleleon Kaleleon

"I'm a bit confused." She said. "Dantooine is Sith territory, not Galactic Alliance territory. If anything, I'm well in my rights to arrest you. That's how the law works - and Jedi respect the law of the indigenous cultures they're from, don't they?" She asked, the ball bearing floating in her hand. "So I'm going to have to ask you to drop your weapon and surrender to my custody. Your partner is already getting interdicted.

Two more Dark Troopers had entered the area and raised their weapons during the silence as he spoke to Ripley. Without Vanessa even acknowledging their presence, they fired at him - as she focused all of her energy behind sending the phrik ball bearing presumably through his gut at point-blank range. The resulting use of ballistakinesis would send it hurtling at railgun-like velocities - and even if he dodged, there was going to be a large hole through the back wall. Were he to make the initiative first to try and blast her, she would instead speed into him, bumping into him and pushing the shotgun skyward to send a blast of light side energy through the roof of the building they were in.

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Ripley Kühn Ripley Kühn

"Peekaboo."

The voice of Onrai was heard directly behind Ripley after she had turned her head back to focus on placing the explosives. It was with that moment she would take the blanket, recovered now from the alleyway it had fallen into after being sent off the roof by Kaleleon, and threw it at the Jedi Knight. A smile crossed her face as she expected the blanket to elicit warm, comfortable, and fuzzy feelings from the Jedi - it was a Sith artifact that even now drew from the darkness of this world. Hatred, fear, and anger would likely soon find themselves crossed with the sense of warmth, comfort, and the urge to snuggle up into the blanket in question.

"See, just enjoy it. Just submit to the feelings of comfort and accept that you are not going to harm anyone." Vanessa stood there, hoping the blanket was effectual at incapacitating the Jedi Knight so she would be unable to effectively engage in her mission of destruction to Korriban's structures.

At least she was starting to more effectively get used to the idea of existing in two places at once.
 
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Location: Korriban Sith Academy - Library
Writing With: Bernard of Arca

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Objective: Sabotage
Foe: Darth Daiara Darth Daiara
Jedi Strike Team Vos
\\> Zaavik Perl Zaavik Perl , Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
Face to Face
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The blip of a radar punctuated the silence periodically. The expected note, the same low-pitched pulse as it ever was, faded into the hangar control room's background like wallpaper. The officer leaning against the radar machine barely noticed the noise as it went off, time after time after time, again and again without fail.

"Hey Xin, catch the game last night?" Strata came in as the door opened and closed again with a quiet swoosh.

"Sure have," the officer perked up from his station.

"The Grotworms owned that arena. Showed those Shyracks what for, they did."

"Yeah, lost me a solid fifty credits is what they did," he sighed and turned back to the circular radar motion.

Strata's arrival and shift start usually marked a turning point for radar duty, though not today.

"You bet against them?" He continued as he took his seat. "What lazerbrain bets against the, and I quote, 'most winningest team in the entire history of Huttball'?"

"This one."

Xin let himself sink into his chair in an exaggeration of his defeat. As he did, however, the radar produced a loud whine, causing him to startle. His elbow slipped beyond the radar's table, and his face fell face-first into the console. The screen produced a loud crack that made both officers jump in their seats.

"Sithspit!" Xin yelled.

They spent the next few moments in silence, staring intently at the radar machine.

The whine was gone. The radar broke.

"Chit, chit, chit!" Xin cursed. He started flipping switches and hitting buttons all over the console. Strata leapt from his seat and knelt beside the machine. The two fumbled around it, scrambling to find a way to restore its functionality.

"What in Corellia's Seven hells was that?"

"I don't know! I don't care! I'm dead, man! Dead!"

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The X-Wing's modified landing gear stuck to the rock better than ten metric tons of deadweight should allow. Its cockpit depressurized with a hiss. A relentless hail of sand knocked against the canopy. It gave way to the deafening howl of the raging storm as the canopy lifted, instantly covering the cockpit's inside with a thin layer of red dust.

Bernard didn't mind. Most of it wouldn't stick anyways. With one hand on the seatbelt, and the other firmly grabbing the cockpit's side, he positioned his feet against the edge of the control panel. He took a breath through the cloth wrapped over his lower face and pushed against it as hard as he could.

His legs kept him trapped against the stiff cushioning of the seat, pinning him in place. He let the breath out and tapped the seatbelt release. Immediately, gravity kicked in, but his body didn't budge from the seat.

He didn't linger in the sense of relief for long. Carefully, he grabbed the side of the cockpit with his now free hand and began to release the tension in his legs.

His grip was firm, and with cat's grace, he lowered himself out of the pilot's seat and beyond the cockpit's sides, until his body swayed in the wind outside the flipped X-Wing. Seeing the starfighter upside down, stuck to the underside of a cliff face, filled him with a certain amount of anxiety. He glanced away from it, towards its nose tip, then beyond at the cliff itself.

The orange-red stone became his first sight of the Sith's homeworld. He felt a small part of him deflate at that realization. In all his years of anticipation for this moment, he'd never envisioned the first glimpse of the Sith's ancestral homeworld like this. Throughout his youth, he assumed his first glimpse of Korriban would include a battlefield of some sort, not what amounted to a big rock.

It was cold too. The holos made Korriban look like a superheated desert, with a relentless sun that looked to break the planet's inhabitants more than it wanted to give warmth. But the wind flowed in frigid streams around his fingers, numbing them to the touch of the cockpit.

He took it as his cue to keep going.

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His fingers, still burning from the frigid air, were slowly regaining some feeling as they held the access panel. Taking as much care as his numbed fingers allowed, he placed the cover back into its socket to seal away the entrance again.

It slid into place with a quiet click, and the wind's whine faded to a low hum. Sand finally stopped streaming into the tunnel. A cloud of it already cast dancing shadows in the dim, red glow of the ceiling lights as it settled on the floor. The target was somewhere at the end of this length of corridors.

Taking what might be his last moment of calm for a while, he shook loose all the dust from his clothes in the process and began to check his equipment. He'd been prudent enough to keep the charges hidden beneath his navy blue overcoat, along with his lightsabre. The matte black weapon wasn't the sabre he had built as a Padawan, that one had disappeared into the oceans of Brentaal, rather it had been the sabre of a long-dead ancestor.

But it was unlikely to see any use today, not that he had ever used it before. Instead, he unholstered two blasters. They were heavy models with low fire rates but packed a serious punch. He'd also gone to great lengths to mod both with a noise reduction field specifically for this mission.

Satisfied that his equipment was in order, he started down the corridors.

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He dropped to the floor without causing a sound between two holo-bookshelves at the back of the library.

Bernard found himself on the second floor. The library hall was vast and filled to the brim with all kinds of forbidden texts and sacrilegious knowledge. This was his target, the future of the Sith.

With a quick push through the Force, he slid the panel over the access tunnel entrance above him and crouched against one of the massive shelves. He holstered one blaster and reached into his overcoat to pull one of the explosives free. The cylinder fit neatly into his palm, with a flat side that held a magnetic hook.

He regarded it for several moments. Up until this point he'd never actually held anything akin to it, especially not while deep inside hostile territory.

But he shook away that thought and went to work while the library was still empty.

The charges weren't very complicated to set up. The magnetic hook attached to a wall or shelf and a few taps activated the timer and primed the explosive. The timer ensured that, even in the event of his death or capture, the charges still went off. That inevitability was far from comforting.

Once the last one was in place and doubly checked it was time to proceed to the second part of his mission. For that, he would have to head to the central information storage.

He started backtracking to his point of entry but froze in place a moment later.

The library's doors swooshed open just below him, and the sound of footsteps echoed, along with voices.

"You just wait, when I become a Sith I'll show that traitor Irveric Tavlar what we can do!" The voice was too high-pitched to belong to one of the warriors or the security forces.

"And that coward Ryv Ryv Karis too!" Another of the group giggled.

Bernard didn't dare to move in the shadows above.



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Location: Korriban Sith Academy - Library
Writing With: Bernard of Arca



The library's doors swooshed open, the Acolytes' footsteps echoing off the high ceilings as they walked in.

"You just wait, when I become a Sith I'll show that traitor Irveric Tavlar what we can do!" The voice was too high-pitched to belong to one of the warriors or the security forces.

"And that coward Ryv Ryv Karis too!" Another of the group giggled.

"Oh shut up, will you?" Aradia snapped. "Have you even faced a jedi? Have you seen what they can do?"

Wilic rolled his eyes, nudging the other. "Aradia thinks just because she was at Bastion she's the new shit."

The giggling girl scoffed. "Clearly not, since she lost the place."

A hiss slipped between her teeth, the elder ginger cutting in front of the younger two. "In case it has escaped you nerf-brains, I was not the only Acolyte at that fight. Look around, do you see any of them here?"

She cocked her chin, her brow raised in challenge. The implication registered between the two, their taunts withheld as they looked her over. She could feel their doubts. She had them too. How could a girl of her size and standing have been one of the few to survive the purge? She let their imaginations run wild, crossing her arms as she took charge. "We're not here to fight. We have our orders, secure the library and rejoin the others. The ship leaves in twenty. We need to get these artifacts out of here, or you'll be facing more than the wrath of a Jedi."

She turned on her heel, her hair snapping through the air as she started for the upper level.

"And for your information," she called over her shoulder. "I already am a Sith. Unlike you, I have a Master." The corner of her lips quirked up. She turned away, ascending to the second floor with quick, light steps.

"...Who's her Master again?"

"Hell if I know. You get the south side, I'l-"

Their voices faded out as the three split ways. Aradia's heart pumped rapidly in her chest, the thrill of telling them off diminishing as she was left to consider the implications of what was happening. The NIO were here again. To slaughter them all, no doubt. Anger rippled through her, their very existence enough to leave the once timid girl fuming as she walked briskly towards the back door.

She had not let go of what happened on Bastion. How could she? Her whole Academy had been purged. Countless faces, friends and foes alike, had been stripped from her life in the blink of an eye.

And for what? Why?

She would get that answer today. She would not be going on the evac ship with the others, not that there were many of those to even be had. Most of their numbers were out there-- fighting. But better the bottom of the barrel waste their energy escorting out the valuables while the useful placed themselves on the frontline. She would take her place among their ranks shortly. Anticipation drummed through her, her hands shak-

She stopped short, her thoughts freezing as she found herself faced with a crouching boy, hidden between two shelves.

"..."

Her ridged features snapped away from him, a nudge of intuition bringing her attention to the metal charged lodged an aisle away.

"Chit," she breathed. The darkside surged, her fingers clenching as strings of the force tried to yank the shelving down on top of him.

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Objective: Sabotage the Academy
Foe: Darth Daiara Darth Daiara
Jedi Strike Team Vos
\\ > Status Unknown
Silent Running (On Dangerous Ground)

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Bernard stood pressed against the side of the bookcase with both blasters raised. His body was flat against the shelves, half-obscured by shadows in the dimness of the library's red and blue lights.

The library was supposed to be empty. Team Rhysode had deployed in advance of the others specifically to cause a sufficient distraction. Yet, there were Sith in the library now. The venerable Master Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder 's influence had waned enough that Bernard couldn't sense the other Jedi team, and there wasn't enough time to reach out and confirm their fate. It appeared he was flying solo now, for the most part.

His fingers tightened their grip around the blasters' leather. He went into this mission expecting no backup. The risks were no different than when he was still a kid hiding from the Sith in the Core all those years ago, except this time, he was serving a cause greater than sheer survival.

The voices underneath him trailed off and grew quiet. The group of acolytes walked away. He noticed the detonator's red light still blinking at the edge of his vision. With any luck, the kids would be out of here before the detonators blew. He'd chosen the incendiary charges for structural damage, not anti-personnel use.

Bernard took a deep breath. This mission was for the good of the galaxy.

Right?

Footsteps to his side took him by surprise. The Sith had split up while he was too distracted to notice. He glanced to his right. Blue eyes stared back at him.

"Chit."

The bookcase toppled next to Bernard. Priceless tomes and holobooks slid free and clattered onto the floor. Bernard jumped back a pace, barely in time to avoid a particularly dense tome that hit the ground where he'd knelt. The bookcase crashed into another one that stood in the same row with enough momentum to send it toppling over as well. More books flew loose as both bookcases toppled, then another one, and another until the entire row was crashing. A cacophony of books and metal erupted and filled the library with chaos.

Bernard leapt towards the bookcase falling between him and the Sith. Before his feet touched the shelves, he brought his blasters together and flipped their mode levers against each other in a practised motion. With a quiet click, they locked into stun setting.

The edge of a lower shelf in the bookcase became the tightrope he needed to cross to reach the Sith. He teetered on it for a moment as the shelf finally came to a stop with a crash, but his Jedi senses kept him from slipping as it made impact.

The Sith had set the pace of their exchange by landing the first blow, forcing him on the defensive. If he didn't prevent her from following up, his chance to retaliate might pass him by for a while and time was a precious commodity now.

Without aiming his shots more precisely, he fired a salvo and started off bounding across the bookcase.

Blue rings of energy left each blaster in quick succession and shot ahead of him, towards the Sith. They were wide and hard to dodge at close distance, even for a trained Jedi, but a Lightsabre would make short work of them. Still, even the most skilled practitioner of Shien had difficulty retaliating when faced with an overwhelming volume of blasts.

Bernard intended to take advantage of that very fact. In particular, because the Sith had reached for the Force when she'd found him. This reaction, in a dangerous situation, implied a preference for it. For younger Jedi, and he hoped Sith too, this preference usually indicated a weakness with Lightsabre techniques.

If Bernard was lucky, and his hypothesis proved correct, he could eliminate the first Sith before the others arrived to help. The continuing collapse of bookcases was impossible to miss, and it was only a matter of time before he found himself facing three opponents.


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Location: Korriban Sith Academy - Library
Writing With: Bernard of Arca


He was wrong.

Aradia squeaked, twirling to the side and raising a wave of discarded artifacts before her. The makeshift shield absorbed the shots, pages going up in flames as she found the chance to pull her-- A gasp cut through her, a burning impact sending left leg numb. She collapsed to a knee, the stunt bolt disabling the limb.

She pulled her borrowed saber, it's red length illuminating the dim space. The books dropped. She caught the last few bolts with the blade from her fixed position on the ground. Even compromised, the acolyte proved proficient with a blade. Kaalia Pavanos would accept nothing less.

There was no space for thoughts in the furious attack, both jedi and sith caught up in the sudden flurry. Footsteps flew wildly towards them, two leather claud teens surging forward to--

Aradia dropped her guard, waisting a precious moment to force push them back.

"Bomb. Go!"

The two scrambled for their footing, neither needing more than a hot moment to comprehend her words ... before leaving her where she laid. Aradia thought nothing of it, her attention turning back to the jedi who would level the place where he stood. A desperate sheen hit her eyes, her retaliation coming in the form of a telekinetic grip wrapping around his body. She tried to pin him where he stood, preventing an escape.

"Undo it," she demanded through her teeth, the concept of time weighing down on her.

Exactly how long did they have? Seconds?

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Objective: Sabotage the Academy
Foe: Darth Daiara Darth Daiara
Jedi Strike Team Vos
\\ > Status Unknown
Go!

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There wasn't much of the shelf left when the Sith fell to one knee. One out of two dozen were far from great odds, but now that he managed to pierce the Sith's defences doing so again wouldn't be as hard.

Bernard kept pressing his advantage. Another volley of stun bolts lit up the chamber as he pulled the triggers in random patterns in an attempt to keep the Sith from settling into her combat rhythm.

The Sith answered the volley with her lightsabre. It ignited behind the shield of tomes before it fell apart. She slashed at the rings as they sped towards her, the blade's crimson hue shifting to purple whenever it cut apart blue bolts.

Bernard cursed under his breath. His deductive abilities did not measure up against an opponent who was his equal. He couldn't remember the last time he had faced another Force User over the recent few years. Worse yet, he barely had a few steps along the shelf left to decide on how to press his advantage.

Hurried footsteps rang out towards them. The Acolytes had finally caught up. Their arrival made Bernard's odds for a clean getaway plummet.

"Force-forsaken-," another curse escaped him and, for the briefest moment, he chided himself for having developed the habit of smearing the Force's sanctity so readily over his tenure with the Marshals.

The Sith seemed equally surprised about the acolytes' arrival. She had turned her attention away Bernard to warn the two newcomers, even going so far as to shove them with the Force, effectively nullifying her numbers advantage. It took Bernard by surprise. He had expected the three to jump at the chance of killing a live Jedi, especially here on Korriban. He was too short on time to dwell on the sudden contradiction, more importantly, too short on shelf-length. He would have to improvise. He hated improvising.

The prospect of advancing towards a sabre-wielding opponent with nothing but blasters made him nervous, but it was also his best opportunity to bring their fight to an expedient end. With his last few steps on the shelf's edge, he crouched low in preparation of another leap. Once he felt his boot bend on the shelf's end, he pushed off it as hard as he could.

Only to fly into what felt like a wall. Bernard's entire body was seized just after he had made it off the bookcase in a telekinetic grip. The sudden lack of control over his own body caused him to fly helplessly in a parabolic arc and right onto the floor. He tumbled over, and one of his blasters fell free from his hand. It slid alongside him on the durasteel floor until he crashed against metal guardrails, saving him from a steep drop down into a set of tables, but not his blaster.

"Undo it," the Sith demanded.

He scoffed.

The impact still had him shaken, and his opponent's power still bore down on him.

With a grunt, he concentrated on his own abilities enough to reestablish the protective Force barrier around his body, at least in part. Enough to force his blaster up and train it at the Sith. The barrel trembled in his hand as he glared at the Sith on the other side of it.

"Why should I?" He shot back. The words didn't come easy against the telekinetic grip.

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Location: Korriban Sith Academy - Library
Writing With: Bernard of Arca


Her situration was precarious-- wounded and trapped before a bomb that would go off at any moment, Aradia was aware she was staring down her death.

The presence of the darkside bore down on her, it's whispers gaining fervor as it begged for her to dig in. Use me. We can save them all. Korriban, of all places, brought clarity to its voice inside her. It would be so easy to surrender herself to it. She had done it before.

But she didn't want to be that monster again.

Below them, doors slammed, telling Aradia that her sacrifice might very well have given her peers a change to live. Maybe... just maybe-- they'd have enough time to warn the others too. That was a step further than she had done for the last Academy. And she didn't need the power to do it.

Kill him.

Her extended hand shook, the grip on his core tightening as the confliction twisted across her features.

'Undo it.'

"Why should I?" He rebuttled

"Oh hell, I don't know, because you'll murder everyone?" She scoffed angrily, the grip on him tightening. For a moment it constricted, threatening to crush ribs and squeeze the life from his body. It felt good, not unlike-

The dead solider's faces flashed through her.

She flinched, the hold on him releasing. The darkside burned through her, pulsing and aching for its release. She found herself bent over, clawing at the ground for control. "Please," She uttered, desperation hitting her tone. "This isn't right."

Kill him.
I need him.
You have me.

Do I?

A Sith controls the dark side, a slave is controlled by it. - Kaalia Pavanos


Every tick of the clock backed her further into a corner, but she wasn't ready to give into it yet. She forced herself to disconnect from the energy pulsing through her fingers, the girl claiming autonomy over herself once again. This would be done on her own terms.

Flames erupted over the exit, the bitter heat blocking his path out. She looked up, hair sticking to sweat as she panted on the floor. "You will undo it. Or you will die here too."

"A bunch of kids lost to war,"
she retorted bitterly. "If that's who you want to go down as."

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Objective: Get out alive
Foe: Darth Daiara Darth Daiara
Jedi Strike Team Vos
\\ > Status Unknown
In the Flame

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"Oh hell, I don't know, because you'll murder everyone?"

Bernard opened his mouth to retort, but just then the telekinetic grip breached the last defences he had.

His muscles strained and spasmed as his body contorted. The blaster in his hand twisted out from between his fingers and clattered to the floor. His bones threatened to shatter and organs to burst. For a brief moment, he could hear his heartbeat louder than anything else, the organ hammering in his chest in a desperate attempt to save the rest of the body. Then it let up, as quickly as it came.

A burst of adrenaline pushed out his panic. Dazed, he gasped for air, coughing and wheezing, as though he had just been pulled from a river. He managed a curse in between the coughing, and slowly composed himself enough to remind himself of the danger opposite him.

Contrary to what he expected, the Sith had fallen over, voicing words that never reached him. She seemed shaken, but by what Bernard couldn't tell. One of the other acolytes must have sabotaged her moment of triumph to claim glory for himself. Sith were infamous for their betrayals, but that meant-

His hand gripped the missing blaster tightly. The fingers curled into a fist, trapping only empty air.

A sudden jolt shot up his spine as the situation sank in. He kicked himself away, shoving his back into the railing behind him. Every bone in his body protested as he pushed himself up to his feet against the metal bars, breathing heavily from the exertion.

Fire suddenly burst from nothing at the exit.

He shot a concerned glance towards the detonators.

They still blinked in their unchanging rhythm. Something else had caused the flames.

"You will undo it. Or you will die here too. A bunch of kids lost to war, if that's who you want to go down as."

Several moments passed between them. Bernard opened his mouth to respond but closed it again a second later.

He wanted to feel a lot of emotions. There was a Sith right before him, threatening his life. An avatar of the darkness he stood against with every fibre of his being. He wanted to hate her. To feel that righteous anger that had driven him all his life. To wield it, and destroy the darkness for the light.

How often had he imagined himself face to face with a Sith, ready to slay them without hesitation? For Force's sake, he'd already struck down a Jedi under suspicion of dark side corruption. He'd wielded righteous fury like a blade unwavering in its purpose then. But now that he stared down someone overtly, unapologetically Sith he was struck with indecision. Why couldn't he just do what he'd always wanted to?

But the Sith before him was nothing like the Sith he knew. He wanted to believe that the compassion she displayed was only a facade. That she did not really care for anyone's life but her own. Yet, she didn't run, nor had she killed him. He wanted to believe it was only a deception, created to some nefarious end, but he could sense that her concern for other people appeared genuine. His Marshal's gut feeling pointed the same way. He knew, too, that the detonators would kill many, if not in the initial blast, then from the fires that would spread. When he'd come here he had believed that to be for the best, but now, faced with other Sith barely older than him, with many more like her all over the academy. Whatever fate had brought them here, he couldn't justify taking their lives without at least giving them a chance. That was the way of the Jedi, wasn't it? Arbiters of justice, not executioners, right?

"Sith are supposed to be selfish, you know," he said with the barest smirk.

He brought his glove up to push some strands from his face.

"Had to be the one Sith who's not evil to the core, eh?"

He sighed and produced the matte black lightsabre from his coat, slowly. He held it up for the Sith's approval.

"I'll need this to do as you ask, so don't get any ideas about doing any of," he circled his finger vaguely in the Sith's direction as he coughed heavily, "that, again."

Slowly, he limped towards the blinking detonator, making sure to give a wide berth to the Sith. The casing itself needed to be removed delicately, else the mechanism inside might be damaged and blow. With a steadying breath, he lined up the lightsabre with the detonator. His hands trembled. This was not how he expected to use the ancestral blade for the first time.

He reached out to the Force to centre himself. Its invisible energy coursed through his entire body and he felt like he'd taken a plunge into a bacta tank. His muscles eased their tensions, washing away alongside the dull ache in his bones. Korriban's discordant chaos silenced the cacophony within his mind as the Force sang its soothing melody. Its song became his anchor.

His finger pushed on the activation switch, on the verge of bringing the sabre to life. The switch gave him more resistance than he thought it would. It seemed to be stuck. He pushed harder until he pressed on it with all the strength his hands could muster.

Then it clicked and the sabre roared to life with its cyan glow.

But the song was gone.

"Sith are supposed to be selfish, you know," he said with the barest smirk.

He brought his glove up to push some strands from his face.

"Had to be the one Sith who's not evil to the core, eh?"

Aradia's lips caught in a snarl. "Is that what you really think of us?" Don't get her wrong, she knew the type he spoke of. She had met them. But someone so twisted was rare in her experience. Less common even than the cruel slave masters that had made up her childhood.

There was evil everywhere in the galaxy. She found it shallow to pin that on her people as a whole. Anything to justify this hate war of theirs.

Was she the naive one, or him?

HIs sword hilt reflected the light of the fire, its reflection refracting in her wary gaze. Her saber jumped back into her palm, held tightly pointed at the ground. They might have had a truce, but she wasn't stupid. She let him move towards the bomb unmolested. Truth be told she wasn't sure she could replicate that if she tried. The power of this world brushed heavily against her mind, imploring her to sink in. She ignored its song, focusing on him instead.

"Have you ever stop to consider that maybe you're the evil ones? You don't see his attacking your schools and blowing up the students-- you know like maybe, just maybe-- we're just all trying to survive out here?" She wasn't doing much to help him concentrate, but she rattled on regardless.

The words had boiled in her for so long, it felt good to level her case to her tormentor.

A part of her still be believed she could make them understand.

A weird ripple echoed through the force, leaving her to freeze. The purple light pierced the detonator panel, sparks flying out around him. She braced at once the explosion, but it's lethal force never came. She waited with baited breath for something to happen. ... Then leaned forward, straining to catch sight of the boy's face.

"Everything alright over there?"

The indicator light faltered.... then kept blinking. The fried panel was beyond amends. The hair on her arms slowly rose, a bad feeling stirring through her.

"Don't tell me you fucked it up," she whispered, possessed by the sudden, fervent need to piss.


 
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Good Men Don't Need Rules
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Objective 2
Allies:
Ripley Kühn Ripley Kühn
Enemies: Onrai Onrai
Gear: Linked in Sig.

I got entirely confused by the next words spoken to me. Dantooine? No. This is Korriban. Known as one of the birthplaces of the Sith Religion, as well as the species. Dantooine was one of the well known Jedi worlds. Having many ties to the Jedi in older republics thousands of years ago. This made no sense as to why she got these planets mixed up. Either way, I just laughed.

"You have gone mad if you believe Dantooine is Korriban."

It was then more of these darktroopers showed up. It took nothing to see the weapons raised. A roll of my eyes as a protection bubble was formed around myself. Standing still even as this ball the woman had was launched at me. In fact, Protection Bubbles had a very nifty effect of sending the projectiles that were fired at it, back at the attacker. All the rounds fired by the Darktroopers went back to their respective place.

The Sith had somehow closed the distance between us. Makes sense considering I pulled out a firearm. Her hands clearly going for it in an attempt to make "My weapon" into "Our weapon." Funny enough, it had tools upon the weapon to prevent it from being ripped from my hands. Friction grip, and even then, it was a conduit of the Lightside of the force. I knew she could feel it. So then why would she grab for it?

I went ahead an lowered the barrier as the projectiles were no longer an issue, and this would be a close quarters fight. I didn't fire the weapon. Not at all. In fact, I just focused Force light into the weapon itself. Letting the weapon radiate the purifying light of the force. Her grabbing at it? Would leave burns upon any who were dark sided. Secondly, she expected me, a man clearly wearing armor from head to toe, using defensive tactics in an offensive battle, would not known how to fight in close combat scenarios, as well as combat those who wished to remove such tools from my disposal.
 

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N I G H T S I S T E R S
the R E S U R R E C T I O N
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How Dark an essence to animate such a vile vessel. Blood of its victims and dust from the Crypt to comprise it. Pheromones permeate the air, riling its prey. A lust for blood, to consume all into itself and meld essence into essence. To force its victims to feed it more of those for whom they cared while they lived.

How their fear causes the abomination delight as its prey pass on into their afterlife, with full realization that there shall be no Empyrean to welcome their eternal Souls. Their only union is unto itself.


Where are your gods now, upon whom you have ever offered homage?

Whereas well are the Nightsisters' gods? For the fact that this Coven commands them, are these not then mere beings undeserving to be classified as gods at all? Or is it the will of a god to satiate the needs, desires and petitions of its underling pets? How entertaining must we be if so, to deserve such interest and doting of a god!

Pom holds much interest in her toys as well. They live, but she does not truly consider how they do so to be at all worthwhile!



The energy raised by the Nightsisters' Magick spun like a physical cyclone reaching high into the air around them and throughout the witches' circle. The Force gravitated towards their resurrected abomination, targeting it with fortification. All who crept near were touched by this force and vaporized into thin air, their energies fed its ravenous hunger.





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One thing I had not counted on was the Jedi launching himself through the air at me his arm wreathed in crackling arcs of lightning. As the attack connected with my forelimb jolts of Ashla's power began to ebb into my first and up the arm causing spasms of pain as they played all kinds of havoc with my control over the muscles in my right forelimb That hurt a lot more than anything had in a good long time. Pulling my other arm away so that the damnable lightning didn't have the chance to jump to my good arm. Worse still than the pain though it brought back memories that I would much rather have kept deep within my subconscious. Images of my childhood re-emerged. Notably ones that involved my captors. Mandalorian 'warbeast training' was far from a gentle process.

One implement that had been particularly prominent in my breaking sessions had been the electric stun rod. I had been smaller back then and so the sort of device that was implemented in my conditioning was the sort that was used to discipline particularly stubborn bantha. The sensation of the Jedi's force power wasn't exactly the same as part of the anguish it caused was mental. I had been aspected towards the dark side from an early age, my inherent gifts for communicating with the spirits of the deceased coming from the left hand rather than the right hand source of cosmic power. It was enough though and I could already feel my mind being drawn into a reverie.

As had happened to me before in times of extreme duress I could feel the well of power begin to rise up within my throat. Normally I would try to hold this back. For humanoids this phenomenon was called a force scream but when it applied to my kind it would be more accurate to refer to it as a force roar. Roaring was in my opinion distasteful I didn't want to be seen as a beast. I wasn't some sith spawn or base krayt dragon but part of what had once been a proud race that had been traversing the stars and crafting mechanical wonders while most of the smaller species of the galaxy's ancestors had still inhabited trees and caves.

But given the choice between wounding my pride and either dying or being hauled back to Coruscant in chains to stand trial and inevitably be imprisoned I would sacrifice my dignity before my freedom any day. I would never again be a captive. So it was that I let the power flow out of me as a combined assault of sonic force and dark energy. An outburst of umbral power. I couldn't stop there though. With one of my forelegs crippled I needed some space. Pulling my hindquarters forward I whipped out with my tail to strike at the airborne Jedi. I didn't have the precision of a master warrior but if the strike connected I would certainly get some distance between us.

Aramis Sunstrider
 

KORRIBAN
Valley of the Dark Lords
OOC Note: This is a new template that was made for me by PERSENUS PERSENUS thanks man
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Darth Achema leaps toward the Jedi joining Dimitri Voltura in the fight against this Jedi she will later know as Kenth Ordo Kenth Ordo . She then attacks the Young Padawan with acrobatic efficiency and tries to strike using flourishes and strong attacks.
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Dimitri Voltura | Kenth Ordo Kenth Ordo


 

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Memories, flashing by her.​
A pyramid of gold and red glowing in front of her.
She was speaking to it, but the words were unclear.
Teeth biting down on a capsule.
Red sabres, bloodshine blades.
A hundred men lay strewn.
She is laying in darkness.​
Come to me.​
Stalking prey quietly in the darkness.
Hand caresses a talon, a gift, from one with yellow eyes.
A white serpent, enormous, yellow eyes, bleeding mouth.
Voices standing over her, looking down at her.
They argue, one dies. The other gathers her up.
Where am I?​
Set me free.​
Who am I?

The urn, until this moment, perfectly still. It did not move, but exuded a will summoned from months of gathered power. A sliver of the dark side reached out from the Nether. It reached out for the two minds who had entered her resting place and it asked them: Release me.

Release me and I will shower you with gifts and powers the like of which you have never seen before. Release me and I will see your enemies broken before you like waves on the rock. I can show you the ways of the Force, if only you do as I ask.


R̴̯̰̂̔́ę̸̧̹̯͎̞̜̥̹̲͈̳̦̙̼̋͋̎̑̏̋̈́̉̌̽͗͝l̸̙̊͛͛̑̉͌̆̌̈́́́͘͝͝͝ë̸͔̜̹́͆̓̄͊̒á̵̧͎͎̬́̊͌̉̈́̊̋͘s̶̖͉̟̞̞͇̙̻̥̈̃̾ë̶̗͈̟͕̖̦̞͈̜̤͉͎̐ ̸̧̙͈͓̦̼̟͌͛̈́͒͆͑̐͂̑̑m̵̨̩͑͋͂̎͆̆̓͘̚͠e̶̤͇̱̗̜̝̠̦̯̥̘̣̦̅̎


Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru Iasha Rha Iasha Rha
 

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Golden blade lashed out, striking against the cold heartless steel of the once-Emperor's blade. Knocked off course, Derriphan soared around in the air to make another pass. Before it could do that, Carnifex summoned the lightsaber at his hip into his own hand, crimson blade snaking into existence with the flip of a switch.
Stepping forward, Carnifex swung his lightsaber up and around to strike at Coren's midsection, but the old Jedi Grandmaster had anticipated his attack and met his blade with his own two.
Grinding plasma blades spat and spit sparks of fierce anger, the resulting illumination dancing around the grim and macabre sacrificial chamber. Carnifex attempted to hold Starchaser there with him, their blades stuck together in a fierce struggle for supremacy.
All the while, the bastard blade Derriphan stalked the darkness beyond the edge of their fight, hunting for the opportune moment to strike.
When it came, it shot out from the shadows like a hidden viper.
Straight towards Starchaser's midsection.
Straight towards his heart.
Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser | Other Space Kaiden Other Space Kaiden | Ryv Ryv
((OOC: Coren and I have decided to keep posting back to back with each other since we are directly fighting.))

 
Major Faction

Ryv

Become One With All Things

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

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I DO THE BEST I CAN TO RUIN WHAT I HAVE

Ryv took a deep breath as he watched Vulcanus' approach. He knew not what the beast had in store for him, nor whether he could garner the strength to beat the monstrosity back. He only knew what stood in his path. The once-Sith'ari could not be allowed to live. This ritual meant to tame the planet, bathed in sacrifice and lost, couldn't be allowed to continue. This was their mission. His grip on Resolve tightened. The blade's presence was a welcome reprieve in the face of so much hatred.

"You can not win all their battles, Ryv. You are merely one mind, one body...one soul. These burdens of doubt, pain, and anguish are mere illusions. Break through, take control, and defeat them."

Rurik's words stretched across the tether that bound them together. The Lord Executor spoke the truth; Ryv knew he couldn't bear the weight of all the conflicts. He was but one man in the face of great evil. And the horrors that awaited him were enough to shatter even the bravest of warriors.

He watched the titanic graug as it boomed with laughter. The Jedi Knight couldn't place it first, the bestial sound, akin to stone crushed to dust beneath a greater force. Ryv's offer of mercy was lost to the creature's mind. Its hatred fell thick upon the room, a natural effect of one fallen so deep into the pit, he guessed. There would be no more chances. Resolve thrummed within his hand. The weapon hungered to fulfill its purpose, it yearned to be let loose upon the Sith Lord before them both and prove itself the greater of the two. Truth be told, the kiffar wanted the same. He grew tired of those who condemned him for his battle prowess. In the thick of it was where he felt most alive, at home with the Force. The Sword and his blade would not be denied their due.

"Such hatred in your words."​

Hatred? No, not hate. Pity clung to his every syllable. Ryv felt pain for all that had been stolen from him by the Sith, but it wasn't hatred that guided his blade. He wanted all garbed in the Cloak of Shadow to feel his scathing retribution. The Jedi Knight would put each and every one of them to the sword if he must. Ashla blessed her sentinel with her power, and he would not fail the Light.

"My code?" Ryv perked a brow. "Buddy, you're in for a treat if you think the code has any sway on me. I'm not here to impart serenity on you and your fellow roaches. I am here to enact punishment for all the lives you bastards have stolen away. I am Judge, Jury, and Executioner, beast. And I will take pleasure in every second of your demise."

One foot forward carried him closer to his destiny. The second came faster, and the third drifted forth in a blur. He broke into a sprint as he charged the behemoth. Resolve taken up in both hands, the Jedi Knight lunged across the way.

<Forgive me.>

For a moment, Ryv's eyes widened in shock. Caught off guard by the Battlemind's words, the kiffar recovered and reached out to the Jedi Master.

<Find your resolve, Master. This world is sick, and we have put too much weight upon your shoulders. We shall await your return.>

The kiffar maintained his link with Rurik through quick thinking alone. He latched onto the tether between them and wound it to his being. If not for the Imperial Knight and Resolve working in tandem, Ryv doubted he could stand in the shadow of two Dark Lords and maintain his confidence.

He steeled himself and lashed out for Vulcanus' core. The horizontal swipe whipped past, the momentum turned to Ryv's advantage as he pivoted on his right foot, spun about to the Sith Lord's side, and struck out for the beast's eyes. He twisted his wrist from there and carried the blade down from head-level to the creature's knee. He pulled no punches. Each blow was meant not to kill the towering monstrosity but to cripple it. Having never faced one of its kind, Ryv looked to fell the monolith one cut at a time.

ALLIES | NJO | NIO | Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser | Rurik Fel | Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Other Space Kaiden Other Space Kaiden | Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
 

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There were a thousand reasons why Alina would never have opened this urn. A thousand more after hearing the voice speak from it. All too often she had come across Sith who were tempted by power beyond them and promptly slain. Of those who failed to realize it was a trap. And yet, it wasn't the promise of power that caught her attention. War was hell. She'd seen first hand just how easy it was for her and her fellow acolytes to be killed. Slaughtered. By friend and enemy alike.

The next generation of Sith, served as cannon fodder before they had a chance to truly learn and gain their own power.

For them. For those that died and for those who would be killed, she stepped forward. Each step up to the urn from which the Dark radiated in such a way even she could feel it was done to keep the Empire strong. If this power would spare even one Sith apprentice so they might grow strong for the next war, she would gladly take this risk.

Alina didn't bother to get Iasha Rha Iasha Rha 's input. Her mind was made up. She reached forward and took hold of the cover and lifted it.

"For the Empire."
 
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VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
WHEN ALL OTHER LIGHTS GO OUT
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Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder linked Zark's mind with the battlemeld and Korriban's encroaching nexus did not feel quite so oppressive. He was reinvigorated by a mirrored radiance which allowed the beleaguered Jedi Master to contend with Shadow Emperor Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis in a fearsome contest of wills if only for a short while. Living shadow slammed against his psychic barrier in the form of massive writhing tendrils. Zambrano had always been a powerful sorcerer. Ascension to the throne had not dulled his raw might as a veteran Sith Lord.

Master Zark was a conduit for the light. His training allowed him to contain it however briefly. Sputtering with inanimate rage his captured junksaber was anathema to the energies he was channeling through it. So concentrated was the Jedi on maintaining control that he barely reacted when its blade flared from bright crimson to an incandescent white plasma flame. The sword was purified.


"You've failed, your highness. You destroyed my order but it has been reforged just like me. Your overconfidence is your weakness."

The glow from his lightsaber which illuminated the Jedi Master faded. Darkness surged forth throughout the temple crypt. He could feel his guide submerged beneath that same darkness. Zark tried to maintain the battlemeld but he was not connected with this new generation of Jedi and he felt it fade away. He could not sustain his beacon without it. It was only a matter of time before Prazutis overpowered him.

He let go.

Time slowed down. His consciousness drifted outside his body. He followed the memory of lost connection across time and space like he was tracing the course of a phantom pain. Master Zark plunged through the darkness radiating from the valley's psychic wound until he sensed a presence nearly consumed by despair.

take my hand

Zark gripped Asmundr tight and raised him from perdition.
 


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NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE III: WAVE OF PURITY
SOMEWHERE NEAR THE VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS
ENGAGING: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius

S T R A I G H T _ O U T _ O F _ L I N E
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The Sith carried on his defense against Tycho's relentless battery. Swing after swing, his strikes grew stronger fueled by the dark side of the Force to which the Jedi succumbed.

"That's it Jedi! Cast off the shackles of heresy and join us in rage and passion!"

He could sense the man's snickering grin. His words drove him further down the path of corruption. Anger flared through his nostrils as the Sith's deterrence continued unyielding to Tycho's attacks.

"The Force shall set you free!"

Tycho's saber slashed hard at where the Sith had been just a moment ago before he had leaped away. His blue blade cackled as it scorched the red soil beneath leaving a blackened mark behind. So close, yet so far. The spacer growled at the faceless man's narrow escape, rage seeped into his veins. He called in the Force and with speed enhanced Tycho rushed at the IronHelm. He feinted a thrust, followed by a heavy stroke aiming to knock the Sith's lightsaber off his hands and disarm him.

"THE FORCE SHALL SET YOU FREE!"


The Sith's words burst through his mind like a spear.​


GA | ALLIES | Kenth Ordo Kenth Ordo | Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Aramis Sunstrider | Karn Syndulla Karn Syndulla
TSE | ENEMIES | Dimitri Voltura
 


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D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
GALACTIC ALLIANCE | NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
FELUCIA | KWAY TEOW OFFENSIVE
WOLFPACK | 71ST GHOST VIPERS
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | MELEE | GRENADES

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SNAKEBITE KISS
<“You’re making me wait for more damn time with those comms up, Usury,”> he replied back to Tithe via comms as the man used his iconic phrase during any mission he was assigned to. <“The others need them down, Usury. I don’t care what methods you have to use. Take it down. I’ll be on your position shortly, over.”>

Already with Loske Treicolt Loske Treicolt yelling at him via comms urged him to see that task be completed. If Tithe had to kill non-combatants to accomplish his assignments, so be it. Anything to accomplish victory he’d do it, especially with the Sith that he held an abhorrence that arguably outmatched the Galactic Alliance’s own. The woman on the wavelengths, Madelyn Lowe Madelyn Lowe , boldly claim that she and her fellow Sith-Imperials had an iron will that would bear through the storm weighing down on Kway Teow. An iron will it was, but one that was rusting away and losing its original strength. Typical, the followers of the Sith did anything they could to keep their corrupt power intact and reign injustice wherever they can. An injustice he once fought for and was delusional to believe it was righteous, but those days were long gone. Now he probably made any zealous Jedi crusader run for their money in this righteous mission to bury the Dark Creed.

Throughout the streets of Kway Teow the squad of Vipers, atop of the stolen landspeeders they found, they drove recklessly not giving up much thought on whom they would carelessly trample and run over. That is if there was anyone in their path. Any S-IMP patrols in their path would gladly ran over and shot without remorse.

Shock and awe.

Suddenly they encountered a winged beast by Lunafreya Solidor Lunafreya Solidor as she descended towards Djorn and his moving Vipers.

<“Ah, shit.”>

The beast managed to snag four of his men, their fates forfeited at its claws. <“Keep going! Don’t stop for anything!”> the Lieutenant Colonel ordered to his Viper that was driving the landspeeder. From his own seat Djorn lined up his shots on the creature and fired a barrage of particle beam blaster bolts at it. <“Comms station is up ahead!”>

And they were greeted with a suppressing fire of blasters of S-IMPs that had accompanied their governor. To his guess, however, they were just the security detail that guarded the communication centre as it was typical for infrastructures such as this to be guarded by a staff of soldiers.

<“Splatter them, sergeant.”>

<“With pleasure.”>

The landspeeder zoomed towards the row of Legionnaires firing at them. They knew what was coming as some dove out of harms way, but some met the momentum of the vehicle which tossed them in the air with shattered bones.

<“Usury, I’m at your position. Entering now,”> he spoke briefly to the Senator as he hopped out of the landspeeder, heading for the doors of the communication centre with the rest of his squad following in tow.

<“Let’s secure communications are down, retrieve the asset, and gather up any intel, Cobra Squad. And remember.”>

<“No quarter.”>


ALLIES | GA | NIO | Loske Treicolt Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt Maynard Treicolt | Amon Vizsla | Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe | Top Bishop | Kir Dantos Kir Dantos
ENEMIES | TSE | Eldaah Aderyn Eldaah Aderyn | Karn Zhakul Karn Zhakul | Lunafreya Solidor Lunafreya Solidor Madelyn Lowe Madelyn Lowe
 

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