Skirmish Revolution | Open to All Jedi and TSC

[Tansu Treicolt]

RESCUE MISSION: A consequence of The Spin Job
TION CLUSTER | DESEVRO | THE WHEEL
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If anyone had heard of The Wheel, they would have heard the advertised promise of a good time: THE WHEEL: A premier luxury resort spinning safely along the Parlemian! Try your hand at our many games for a chance to win big, unwind in our world-class spas, or feel the pulse of excitement in our Zero-G Arena, where smashball matches thrill audiences daily!
Your getaway begins the moment you step aboard.

Those who stepped on board, never got away.

Hijacked and heavily damaged on its maiden voyage, The Wheel never docked on schedule. Worse yet, any attempts to contact the luxury spinning resort yielded no response, only a strange static-riddled replay of the promotional audio on an endless, near nonsensical loop: Ux…Safely…try….our many games…chance to win….getaway.

Broadcast received and triangulated to Sith Space, a strike team of willing Jedi is assembled for a rescue mission into the Wyl Sector. Equipped with stealth ships, unidentified to any one faction, their route from the unclaimed worlds of The Core to the station is direct and accompanied only by a very brief briefing:

< Alright y’all, thanks for bein’ here and quick heads-up before we hit this thing. Job’s real simple: get aboard, find whoever’s still breathing, and get ’em out. Expect damage, expect traps, and don’t let any old neon promises lull you whatever’s running that ship now sure ain’t hospitality and we don’t wanna lose people or credits. See y’all there! — Tansu Treicolt>

On boarding the station, sections of the Wheel look as though someone had taken a luxurious resort and folded it in on itself. The bridge — once a pristine command hub — now half-collapsed, its bulkheads bowed from the inside. That shock had rippled through the entire ring: casino floors sat tilted a few degrees off-center, support beams groaning with every slow rotation, and whole hallways yawning open with exposed wiring that spit blue arcs into the dark. Fire suppression foam crust the walls in places where the blasts had set everything alight; other sections were flooded from burst pipes flash-frozen by Force use then cracked open. Neon sign glitch through static, repeating WIN BIG and PLAY NOW at slow, syrupy tempos.

All remnants of the work done by the Sith who stole The Wheel.

In more sinister addition to the damages rendered on the massive, glitzy station, deep beneath the casino decks lies the Wheel’s signature attraction: The Zero-G Smashball Arena, now twisted into a Sith-run survival pit. The grav-plates flicker between weightless drift and bone-snapping surges, platforms spin in slow, lethal orbits, and terrified vacationers have been forced to survive cruel conditions. Every few minutes the arena cycles—gravity, no gravity, spin—turning rescue into a race against the next deadly shift. Jedi who reach this level must disable the arena systems and extract the exhausted prisoners before the cycle resets.

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SITH: Mercy Warpriest Prime Arris Windrun Ghruna Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Tamsin Starfall
JEDI: Kito Tydeus Shorn Jonyna Si Jalen Kai'el Talsin Lota Jax Thio Sven Halestorm
TROUBLEMAKERS: Kinley Pryse

STILL OPEN TO JOIN, SEE MATCHUPS + OOC HERE
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​

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

As soon as The Wheel came into view, all those with the visibility out the port, saw how derelict it had become. The traditional ports were in poor shape, but after a rotation or two of observation, they'd docked without a hitch.

Even slinking through the hallways went undisturbed — but it was clear they were not alone. Anyone with half a Force sense could feel the miasmic spread of lingering darkness present.

They pressed in, alert, through the wreckage inside. The hijacking of the luxury station had not been a delicate or subtle affair.

Neon signs still pulsed along the promenade, coaxing vacant rooms to play another round, try your luck, experience premium delight! A flickering holo-panel sparked weakly against the wall, the cheerful voice of the Wheel's broken advertisement burbling somewhere deep in the station:…spin… safely… unwind… chance to win… win… win…

Before they delved too far, Tansu scampered to the front of the group and slid her glove from her hand.

"A giant wheel might have us goin' 'round in circles.." She shrugged an explanation out, buying herself a few seconds to settle her palm and fingers against the curve of the hall. In an instant, the Jedi she travelled with faded from view and instead panic replaced the atmosphere. Panicked footfalls, shouts of discord, cloaked figures ushering through like the civvies were no more than bantha to be herded. Vacationers clutched one another, stumbling as the lights died in stuttering bursts. A dealer droid spun in a confused loop, repeating next player, please—next—next— until someone shoved it aside. A child's stuffed tooka trampled under a stampede of desperate feet. And beneath it all, a darker ripple slithered through the memory: figures, masked, moving with awful purpose as they drove the crowd toward a single destination.

Where?

In real time, she furrowed her brow, trying hard to listen to the cacophonous shouts and trepidous whispers. Nothing was clear through the chaos.

She pulled her hand away and huffed.

"They went that-a-way," her point directed down the hallway, void of signage. Or, useful signage anyway. Everything was dark.

Frowning, she turned to Talsin: "You got the schematics of this thing, right? Big luxury party cruise boastin' blueprints you found?"

____________________________________________________________
WITH (for now): Jalen Kai'el | Tydeus Shorn | Talsin Lota
SOON (scary): Mercy
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​

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Varin Mortifer​

It wasn't often she got to use the Tenacity for it's intended purpose. Search and Rescue was an old mission of hers, but her time in the Wild Space Rebellion had shown her that she was ready to take this one on.

Jonyna landed, just in time to find a casino floor wrecked.

<Jonyna to crew, investigating casino floor. I'm gonna veer off to see if anyone is alive in the halls.>

Her hand gripped her swords. She drew her saber, igniting it to act as a light. She could see in the dark, but she didn't trust these halls without her saber ready.

 

[Jalen Kai'el]

THE WHEEL
Allies: Tansu Treicolt , Talsin Lota , Tydeus Shorn
Opponents: Lysander von Ascania , Tamsin Starfall

Delta-7, Lothal Jedi Temple​

…spin… safely… unwind… chance to win… win… win…

There was an irony to the echoing words that filled the void with noise. It was a good metaphor for the predatory relationship an establishment like this could have with it's clients. Only this was that metaphor taken to a very real extreme.

Jalen was drifting at the moment. The loss of the Core had left him... amiss. Not confused, just amiss. The open call for aid was one he was quick to answer. He certainly didn't want to sit around and do nothing. As such, he was here with a collection of Jedi he didn't know, none he was familiar with from his days as a Padawan or stent out in the Tingel Arm. Regardless, he gave them his commitment to assuring their health. He would keep them alive.

That was something he was sure of.

The interior of the station itself was chaos. He could feel speckles of darkness intermixed with the panic. Jalen was not bound to the limitations of sight. He could feel every footstep, heart beat, nervous twitch of the eyes... All was revealed by the Force. The unfortunate part was the distance. They were so far into the depths of the station that it was all a cacophony of noise. A distant mess of aura that evaded clarity.

"They went that-a-way," her point directed down the hallway, void of signage. Or, useful signage anyway. Everything was dark.

Jalen's head tilted. Her aura had flickered with a release of energy that reminded him of something he had seen before. She was collecting data from echoes. Interesting. In theory it was something he should be able to learn, but as of present it evaded him. Perhaps it was something you had to have a natural talent for.

"I feel a... mess of energy roughly in that direction," he relayed to the group. "I can't pinpoint any specifics. Emotions are too strong. They're all blending together...."

Certainly that was what the Sith wanted.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Allies Tamsin Starfall
Foe: Jalen Kai'el Talsin Lota
Sith style lunch date: Naniti
Location: Food court
Armor: Helm of the Twin Suns | Desevro-Type Sith Armor ​

The Wheel was quieter now. Far quieter than when the Covenant had decided to make it their own. Lysander could still see some evidence of that initial violence. A few bent support beams here and there and scorched panels. The laughter that once echoed through the corridors was gone. Still, the station felt like it was holding its breath.. waiting for something. Something else.. or someone?

Somewhere in the distance, civilians moved... scuttling, panicked. He chose to ignore them.. comfort wasn't his role. Taking the station had been, and that was done. Noise, yes. Threat? None of his concern.

Varin Mortifer 's silence.. was never inherently bad.. but sometimes carried its own warning. His index digit tapped a button on the comm. <<You've gone.. suspiciously quiet, brother. Should I assume the worst.. or just ask where you are?>>

The blonde’s attention belonged elsewhere now. A table was selected in the food court, a ruined swath of luxury that still smelled of spices. Strange how the scent survived when so much else was torn apart. The one beside them was a mess.. melted desserts, overturned chairs, and food splattered across the floor.

Together, they had sampled the flavors of every planet they'd crossed so far; it felt natural to continue the ritual here.

Before Lysander, the plate was a small banquet. Spiced nerf hock, caramelized edges.. a beautiful sight to behold. There were a few different proteins neatly arranged into little rows. He hovered over it.. not necessarily out of greed, but perhaps precaution. Naniti was carnivorous, after all, and he wasn’t about to let her snag the best cut first. Well, he probably would.. which was why the moment struck him as almost playful.

The salad bar caught his eye, a mess of greens and extras that somehow looked worse than anything the academy served.. which was setting the bar quite low. A small noise of disgust escaped him.

With another bite, he savored the texture.. the heft of it on his tongue. Slicing was hard work.. heavy work. It only made sense to refuel himself properly now.

“Almost makes me think,” Lysander said, leaning back in the chair, “that one could get used to this.”

Toward the violet Togruta his vision fell. A soft smirk appeared. “You’d think,” he murmured, lifting his fork toward her plate in mock warning, “this was the highlight of every vacationer’s experience.. win.. win.. win..”

Softened words slipped free from beneath the Sith discipline forged on both Korriban and Desevro. “.. We just happen to do it a little differently. And far more efficiently, of course.”

The curve of his lips refused to fade. "My grilled nuna fillet is off limits."

 

[Tydeus Shorn]

Frowning, she turned to Talsin: "You got the schematics of this thing, right? Big luxury party cruise boastin' blueprints you found?"

At the rear of the small group walked a Tionese boy who could not have been more than two and twenty. He wore fatigues, tactical boots, and a tunic over which he had a combat vest - all in black. The hilt of a vibro sword poked over one shoulder, magnetically adhered to a mag sheathe at his back. His lightsaber hilt dangled from one hip, a blaster pistol sat on the other.

He said nothing as they walked through the station, though he had his palm out in front of him slightly at his waist. Two metal orbs no larger than ball bearings hovered there, revolving around one another like a planet and its moon.

They would encounter resistance soon. This was always the way.

Tydeus agreed to come because they faced Sith and because the Wheel had been moved to the Tion system. He would not tolerate their presence near his homeworld. Not after what they'd done. And after they were finished here, he had a mind to pay the planet a visit. He'd heard what they'd done. Turned it into a prison world.

A muscle in his jaw writhed as he ground his teeth together.

They would pay.

Tansu Treicolt Arris Windrun

 

[Naniti]

Naniti had clicked her tongue at the mess strewn about the large room when they'd first entered. From the sight of things you would think the Sith had launched a boarding party of dozens. Perhaps hundreds. And perhaps they had once the Wheel ended up wherever the coordinates had taken them. Jumping had been their job; taking and holding the Wheel had been someone else's. Obviously someone that didn't mind trashing the place.

Not that she was complaining with less noise coming out of the gambling area. That racket could make a Togruta scream.

Once Lysander had found a table, they'd gone about collecting an assortment of edible goods. Fortunately, the warmers hadn't overcooked the food before they gave out, and they hadn't given out too long before the two of them appeared. Naniti had gotten a few warmers restocked on fuel to help bring the food back up to temperature though. There were only certain times when cold meat was acceptable -- and that often involved fish, which came from cold waters.

"Worst part is," Naniti looked at the spread, "it's all well-done." It might not be charcoal, but it was by far no where near rare. That too could make a Togruta scream, but there was still a chance the seasoning would make it edible.

Blue eyes had spied Lysander's plate a time or two since they sat down. He couldn't fault a girl for looking for something that'd actually taste good!

After a few carefully placed pokes at the assorted meats, Naniti finally stabbed one that felt the most pliable. "Why do people like meat well done?" she complained as she stared at the morsel. "It's dry. Hard. Flavorless. Like eating sandpaper." With a slight bow to her brow, she accepted her fate and slipped it between her lips to chew it. Endlessly. It took so much work just so it could be swallowed!

A snort followed Lysander's quip about getting used to eating like this. "Yeah, well, sandpaper is better than mystery meat," she agreed. And she didn't mean an amalgamation of meats into a patty as the mystery; but strange, whole (but gutted) creatures that left you wondering what planet they came from.

Her fork lifted and jabbed at Lysander's. "Don't even try, or I'm taking all the fatty ones." Not that even the fat had enough juice left! A crime. It was a crime what these cooks did to good food.

"What? Win?" Naniti shook her head. "Maybe we could win with fewer explosions and fires so we could relocate amenities like these where they're needed most. Like, the Academy kitchen." And no that wasn't all a round about way of suggesting they do less harm to the people by suggesting the save the luxury accommodations either. Naniti meant exactly what she'd said. It was frustrating how their superiors were a little too zealous with the whole 'kill kill kill' angle to see the other benefits they could reap. But then the Lords weren't eating mystery meat.

One eye squinted at Lysander when he declared the nuna fillet off limits. "You know, I saw a Jogan fruit pie back there. Can't quite remember where though." Perhaps if there were something to help her remember she might let Lysander know where such a dessert could be found.

Tag for Lunch Date: Lysander von Ascania
Sith Allied: Tamsin Starfall
Potential Foe: Jalen Kai'el | Talsin Lota
Location: Food Court

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He stirred as a groan left his mouth. Slowly he began to pick himself up, debris and broken slot machines falling off of him as he pushed himself up. His breathing was deep and harsh as he gulped in some fresh air. The weight of equipment now off of his bare back.

<<You've gone.. suspiciously quiet, brother. Should I assume the worst.. or just ask where you are?>>

He looked around his surroundings seeing the destruction that lay from his battle with Tamsin Starfall in as he sat back down, pain like a pulled muscle radiated up his back while a joint also hummed its own hymn of pain. He could tell it was dislocated. A quick short breath and he quickly jerked his arm snapping it back in place with a loud pop that echoed off the walls, followed by a grunt of pain.

Varin then pressed his finger to his communicator,

<<I’m alive, It got a bit rough towards the end there. I’m in the main gambling area.>>

He let out a deep sigh as he stumbled towards the bar grabbing one of the last standing bottles of whatever and twisting off the cap. Slumping over the bar he took a big swig of the mysterious liquid. The taste was bitter, the burn had bite. Strong stuff, expected from a high end gambling resort. He then heard a distant hiss of an ignited saber. A growl of frustration left his chest as he stood up tossing the bottle to the side with a resounding clatter of broken glass.

On your guard, boy. I don’t like the feeling of that one.

Ignati’s voice rattled in Varin’s mind as he winced from the aching muscles in his back.

“It’s never so simple is it?”

He then began to wander towards the sound, stepping around the hole in the casino floor, while radioing his brother.

<<Lys, don’t get too comfortable. Someone is here, and I have a feeling it’s not support.>>

Jonyna Si | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Varin Mortifer​

Silent.

That's what Jonyna's footsteps were. Of course, that didn't help her blade. She knew better usually, but she was trying something different. She knew this place would be crawling with sith.

Better to draw them out.

Behind her, she felt it. The void of the dark side.

There wasn't a moment of hesitation. In a burst of speed, Jonyna rushed back, and in an instant, she was already on top of the sith apprentice.

Her blade burst with flame as she swung it right at his head. She had no patience for this anymore. No will to negotiate.

Do or die. That's what her time as a rebel had taught her. No witty banter, no fancy flips, just a six foot tiger barreling down on the sith, with a blade of plasma and flame.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Almost in an instant he felt a rush of energy as the Jedi rushed towards Varin with a blade of plasma and flame. She swung fast and efficiently, obviously she was extremely well trained.

Varin's eyes were pinned on her as a glare formed on his face. In a quick blur his hand reached out gripping the plasma blade as it hissed against his flesh. The grip he formed was strong as he jerked it back in an attempt to fling the Jedi away from him.

“And here I thought Jedi were to help the wounded. Never in my days did I suspect one would be so blood thirsty to attack a wounded man. Let alone one that is unarmed.”

His hand shot forward as a volley of flaming spheres shot towards her, the runes along his body flared like an angry sun with each burst as smoke began to bleed out of his back where the branded runes first developed.

"Do the Jedi always lack honor in combat?"

Jonyna Si​

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Spa Day
L O C A T I O N | The Wheel
W A R G E A R | Gjallerhorn | Celestial Crown | Warpriest Armor

Kito

O P E N​

For all the devastation that had ripped through The Wheel...For all the twisted bulkheads, glitching neon, shattered glass, collapsing corridors and terrified tourists shoved into death-sports below...

There, in the spa, the one immaculate oasis left untouched by catastrophe. Domina Prime was living her very best life.

The moment she'd helped the Sith vent the station like a tin can, she had absolutely peeled off from the group without so much as a backward glance. Let the others fuss about objectives and structural failures and 'oh no, the Jedi are coming,' or whatever. The Wheel had amenities. The Wheel had luxury. And the Wheel had workers who, after a little...Mandalorian persuasion, were more than willing to dedicate themselves fully, fearfully, and without a single complaint to the comfort of their new many-armed conqueror.

Dima lay sprawled across a massive cushioned lounger like some decadent war-goddess on holiday. A mountain of scented towels pillowed her back. Thick clouds of steam curled lazily around her like worshipful spirits.

On her face: five cucumbers, one for each eye. Perfectly cut. Perfectly chilled. Perfectly terrified hands applying them.

Four trembling spa employees stood at perfect attention, each one lovingly tending to one of her four arms. Azure claws were filed with excruciatingly careful precision, because a single slip would likely mean they joined the prisoners in the Smashball pit. Her scales were polished in warm oils chosen 'to compliment her natural divine sheen,' as she'd sweetly insisted. More towels wrapped her limbs, leaving her glowing with the radiant, moisturized arrogance of someone who could absolutely kill you but is, for the moment, too relaxed to bother.

Another pair of workers fussed over her hair. Washed, scented, woven into an elaborate braid thick enough to be classified as a biohazard. Even the blade of her tail was being buffed and oiled by a poor soul who was sweating so hard he could have hydrated an entire desert.

Dima, meanwhile, was delighted.

"Oh, that's lovely, dar'jetii," she purred, stretching one leg luxuriously as someone rubbed down her calves. "You've got very steady hands for someone shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Don't be nervous! If you were doing a bad job, i'd let you know."

Three of them flinched.
One swallowed loudly.

"Relax!" she chirped, reaching up to pluck a grape from a golden bowl they'd filled for her. "You're doing wonderful. Truly. Almost good enough to bring back home." She popped the grape in her mouth. "Mm. Almost."

The station groaned violently, somewhere deep in the hull, a corridor collapsed and a reverberation shuddered through the walls. Dima's ears perked, twitched, tracked the sound like a predator scenting prey.

Then she dismissed it with a flick of her tail.

If something important was happening, surely someone else would handle it. Sith were very serious, very busy little creatures. Always running off to stab something or brood. She hoped they were having half as delightful a time as she was. They honestly deserved a spa day too, some of them were so tightly wound she could hear their vertebrae grinding during briefings.

Another distant explosion rattled a tray of warm oils.

She sighed dreamily and settled deeper into her pillows.

"Oh, don't mind that noise," she said as the workers jumped out of their skins. "If the station starts fully collapsing, I'll know." A claw wiggled in emphasis. "A spa has... good acoustics."

In truth, she fully expected her paradise to come crashing down. Chaos always found her eventually. But until then?

She was moisturized. She was unbothered. She was thriving.

"Now, be dears," Dima cooed, "and fetch me some chocolate-dipped berries. I think we've earned them."

The workers scrambled like panicked insects.

Another crash thundered from the hallway.

Dima smiled behind her cucumbers.

"And maybe check if that was one of us. It'd be terribly rude if someone died before I finish my massage."

 

[Talsin Lota]

Allies for now: Tansu Treicolt | Jalen Kai'el | Tydeus Shorn
Enemies: Lysander von Ascania | Tamsin Starfall | Naniti
Objective: Strike a blow

The place wasn't as wrecked as Talsin had been concerned for.

In fact, there was... a semblance of function. Here and there you could see the damage inflicted during the skirmish, but overall, the Sith who had carved through this place had not been interested in wrecking it utterly. Instead they had done their best to capture it. That was good... but it was also bad, because it meant the defensive systems would most likely still be in place.

Frowning, she turned to Talsin: "You got the schematics of this thing, right? Big luxury party cruise boastin' blueprints you found?"

"I have, yes." Talsin confirmed as he brought up his wrist-comm and swiped the blueprints to the three of them. "We can't be sure how up to date this is however. Before the Sith, this station was mostly held together by an illicit consortium. I doubt they took the time to send updated versions of any changes they made to the local databanks."

But it was better than nothing, they couldn't have changed that much. It was still a space station that had to earn money.

A handful of House Lota soldiers were with them. Not an army, this was not a campaign to demolish the station over who got to control it. But a few scouts who went up ahead and sniff out any trouble that could be waiting. Then a number at their backs, making sure that their back was covered if they needed to retreat.

"The elevators should be in that direction too according to the schematics." To Jalen and clarifying what Tansu saw. "Might be a good thing, might be a bad one. I don't think we should rely on those elevators if we can help it. Easy way to get stuck in a kill-box."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Direct Tag: Tydeus Shorn

"Hey! Is this thing on?"

Arris's voice blasted across the station's PA system. Familiar to some, strange to others. She was accessing it from a control room just above the Zero-G arena.

"I'd like to remind all newcomers that The Wheel is currently closed for renovations. As you can see, it's not exactly shipshape."

"Well, it's a station, not a ship," a voice muttered in the background.

There was some unintelligible arguing between the two before the cyborg returned loud and clear.

"Err... sorry about that! Anyway, I suggest you all go back the way you came and leave before 'security' catches on. We're not exactly a friendly bunch to trespassers." The speakers cut out with a deafening shriek.

Arris crawled over the smashed glass of the control room and looked down to the spherical arena below, where debris and bodies floated eerily in the calm of gravity's absence. As soon as her feet crossed the plane of the viewport, they began to float.

"Whoa!" It was kinda fun.

A shame then that the whole place was currently out of commission, because the Big Game was a tournament on the Kaggath finalist's bucket list - a lethal free-for-all without blasters, just strength and wits in zero gravity.

The distant sound of fighting suggested to her that not only were the intruders undeterred, but that they had it in them to fight Sith. That either meant Jedi or Mandalorians... or other Sith.

Mercy Ghruna Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Tamsin Starfall Warpriest Prime Kito Jonyna Si Jalen Kai'el Talsin Lota Jax Thio Sven Halestorm Kinley Pryse

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Varin Mortifer​

As her opponent grabbed her blade, Jonyna tilted her head ever so slightly. As if she was processing the new learned information. The Cathar had always been a tactical fighter. A pure improvizationist. If Varin was savvy enough to notice, he'd notice her lightsaber form was completely original, a hodge-podge of various styles with no one form coming to the forefront as the inspiration.

And yet, Jonyna knew better than to let her opponent lecture her. The sith always loved to banter.

"My honor died to let me survive."

Her words were curt, but cutting. Tipped with a venom that no normal jedi would have.

She deactivated her saber, just long enough for those flaming orbs to hit her, and...

Do nothing. It was as if she had simply eaten them into her body. For a moment, Jonyna's eyes shined like stars. Blazing, filled with primal passion. There was no rage there, only endless tenacity.

With her own burst of flame, her knees exploded like rockets, sending her back. Simultaneously, her tail lashed out with her blaster, channeling bits of Electric Judgement into each of the 30 bolts that rivered out of the blaster as Jonyna blasted backwards.

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

​

Theme: Not Your Kind of People
Equipment: Twin Omens | Black Robes | D-10 | Multi-Tool | Stars Enchained | Mind Crown
Location: The Wheel
Allies: Lysander von Ascania | Naniti | Arris Windrun | Varin Mortifer
Enemies: Jalen Kai'el | Talsin Lota | Tydeus Shorn | Tansu Treicolt

In a dark corridor of the wheel sat girl cross legged on the floor. Her eyes were closed as she felt outwards across the station taking in the feelings of those that all dwelled with in. Feelings of triumph and unease at their latest victory. A victory she played no part in, she had blacked out during the whole thing the demon having, had taken hold of her. It had been happening more frequently lately.

She knew it was because the one factor that had kept it in hiding was no longer around. What did it matter she had to ask herself in quiet contemplation. She was of the Demon's design, just a copy of what it had once been. Inevitably it would win and she would be no more there was only her to fight against it now and she knew she could not defeat it.

She sat their feeling those around her knowing that this feeling of triumph some of them had was fleeting. Much like her own inevitable demise, the fall for them stealing this station would come sooner rather than later. All this Galaxy knew was war and destruction of which she was the harbinger, the bad omen. Today, tomorrow, or whenever it did not matter, someone would come knocking claiming to liberate this wheel.

Always liberators they claimed to be, fighters for freedom and justice. Tamsin knew though that it was all a lie, sith or Jedi they all fought for their own glory and egos. Maybe the demon was right they all needed to die, that the slate needed to be wiped clean so something better could come from it.

That's when she felt it at the fringes those that would come knocking. Her eyes slowly opened, still glowing orange from the demon's fury. Then she pushed herself to her feet, the fight was coming again. She then ripped her saber from her belt in her right hand. "So the cycle of destruction continues." She whispered to herself as Arris Windrun voice came over the intercom. As she headed towards the food court area that was just a little ways down the corridor she had been hiding in.

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Tell me the odds. I need a good laugh.​

Kinley Pryse had seen a lot of wrecks in her day, but The Wheel was something special, like someone took a luxury casino, turned it upside down, shook it for loose change, and then set it aflame for good measure. The hull plating still glittered with the old decal, half-melted and cracked, promising Fortunes Beyond the Stars!

"Yeah," Kinley muttered as she stepped through the docking airlock, blaster on her hip and her best don't-mess-with-me swagger dialed up. "Fortunes for me."

Her ship, Canto Belle, had caught the distress call on a dead frequency, ancient tech, the kind smugglers and spice runners still used because no one with sense bothered to listen. Broken engines, failing life support, rerouted power systems… the place was dying. Perfect. Dying ships didn't ask questions.

But there was something else. A hum in the air. A pull. A tingling behind her eyes.

Force-users.

Great.

Kinley puffed out a slow breath. Jedi meant complications. Sith meant trouble. Both meant don't shoot unless you have to, which, ironically, was usually right before she shot anyway.

"Just get the credits, Pryse," she whispered to herself. "And get the kriff out."

The main gaming ring was a graveyard of shattered dreams and broken circuit boards. Slot machines sparked weakly, their once-vibrant holoscreens flickering like dying fireflies. Kinley knelt beside one, prying at a service panel with the tip of her vibroblade. She was good with machines, well, good at gutting them for parts. Same thing.

Inside were old-style credit chits, tossed aside by whatever panic had swept the place when the power went out. She grinned.

"Oh, you beauties," she crooned, scooping them into the pouch at her hip. "Momma knew the slots wouldn't fail her.”

A sound echoed from deep within the casino that sounded like a clash of sabers, a shout, something heavy collapsing.

Kinley froze. Then smirked.

"Yep," she said, popping one last chit free. "Definitely not alone. Better work fast."

She moved to the next machine, blade glinting, heart steady. Credits first. Chaos later. If she was lucky, the Jedi and Sith would cancel each other out.

And if not?

Well… Kinley Pryse always had an exit strategy. Or at least a very fast trigger finger.

​

Tags: Open

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“A Jedi driven by selfishness? You seem more Sith than you realise.”

He watched her absorb his flame, and fuel her. He got into a readied stance. In a quick flash she presented her specialised blaster as she flew backwards, firing towards Varin. He quickly dove for cover behind the ruined bar as one of the bolts barely grazed his shoulder. He let out a pained grunt as his hand slapped over the wound.

He concentrated on the pain for a moment as the flesh began to burn and mend itself. The residual pain radiated through him, it fueled his rage. The branded runes flared over his back and shoulders as he quickly rolled over to face the ruined bar and forced his weight into it, sending it flying towards the Jedi. As it flew with its own momentum Varin dashed towards his new foe. The pain from his previous fight burned deeply into his body as he leapt towards her, lightning arcing off his body in small trails.

Using the force he hardened his body, so it could take more punishment. His skin became almost like iron, his breathing more controlled. He had been working on this technique for some time now and had finally gotten the hang of it.

“You’re no different than me.”

He caught the words escaping his lips in a near animalistic voice that was almost not his own, voice and phrasewise. He could feel Ignati clawing through to escape, but for the sake of even possibly keeping the resort and maintaining the mission he tried his best to hold him back. He was not ready to release him yet. Smoke began to billow in a thicker cloud from his back.

Jonyna Si​

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Varin Mortifer​

That earned a chuckle. A dark laugh that escaped her before she could swallow it down. Old habits were dying hard today, and she couldn't help it.

"Is that what you think? That I'm selfish? No. I wipe scum like you off the face of the galaxy for everyone else's sake. It's not my fault you sith are stuck so far up your own ass you can smell your own breath. But that's how it is with you chucklefucks, ain't it? It's all the same speeches on repeat. 'Oh, we're not so different. Oh, you're blinded by the light. Oh, you're so ignorant of the true nature of the Force'. Shove it, ya buttmunch. I'm not interested in listening to you flap your gums at me. Either come out of your foxhole and fight me, or I'll come in there and drag you out kicking and screaming, like the toddler you are. Just a tantrum throwing kid, who thinks he knows better. How old are you even? 15? Come and get me, coward."

In that moment, she felt some youth return to her she hadn't felt for a long while. She had been so focused on being the perfect jedi, she had forgotten how to snark.

And she was happy to do that again. Lightsaber ignited once more, a smirk crossed her face that hadn't in a few years.

The Firestarter was back.

 

[The Madclaw]

A shape appeared behind Varin Mortifer , impossibly tall with fur as white as a ghost.

The Madclaw of Claatuvac loomed, a great saber dangling from his hip. He wore only a skirt and kama after the mandalorian fashion, stripped from one of their larger warriors whom he defeated in battle. Atop this and bound at his waist by its flayed paws was a yellow and black spotted Cathar fur.

He did nothing at first, simply crossing his arms and looking between Varin and the Jedi opponent.

The Black Sun sent him to assist with gambling operations on the station in collaboration with the Covenant… so what were the Jedi doing here, so far from their outposts in the galactic west?

“Hmph.”

Jonyna Si

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He got her to talk. A small smirk came to his face. A roar left his throat as he swung his fist towards her, keeping his eye on both her saber and her blaster. His eyes flared like an inferno as he began his assault against her. Armed or not, he always made sure he fought with his all.

He then felt a presence behind him. He could not hesitate as he fought, he also was not alarmed by the newcomer since Ignati did not warn him of the being behind him. He continued his fight bringing an elbow down towards his foe as he towered over her. A burst of flame exploded from his bicep to increase velocity and impact as his elbow rocketed towards her. His tunnel vision began to take hold.

Give her to me, boy.

As his voice echoed into his head, Varin’s flesh began to crack and harden with the embuement of the dark side. The pattern almost resembling scales, as it traveled slowly around his body. The pain ripped a guttural growl out of his throat as he awaited for his attack to make impact.

All the while his attention was slightly split by the new stranger in the room. Unknowing of his purpose or what side he was on. For now it seemed he was contempt with waiting and watching.

The Madclaw | Jonyna Si​