Populate [RNR] To Hell and Back || The Sundering || Populate of Vendaxa

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn crouched low at the edge of the broken walkway, his hand resting against the pitted stone as he surveyed the gaping entrance ahead. The red light spilling from within pulsed unevenly, like a heartbeat just out of rhythm — a constant reminder that every second wasted risked lives.

This was it. No more guessing. No more hoping.

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing back to the others — Briana, Rook, Master Porte — feeling their readiness humming across the bond they shared, whether through blood, friendship, or the Force itself. A silent understanding passed between them. There would be no turning back.

Brandyn exhaled slowly and gave a small, decisive nod. "We move," he said quietly, his voice low but steady. "Two by two. Rook and I will scout the corridor ahead, check for any sentries or traps. Master Porte, Briana — cover the entrance, then follow once we're clear."

He flicked his gaze once more across the grotesque architecture, every instinct warning him that this place would not allow an easy path. It was built to consume hope, to extinguish light. And yet here they stood, blades readied by grief and duty.

Brandyn gave Rook a look — half grim humor, half steel resolve — before slipping into the shadows ahead, trusting the others to fall into the rhythm they had built on countless battlefields before this.

They would find the children. They would find Elias.

Whatever horrors lay between them and that goal, they would face them together.

| TAG: Rook Merriex Briana Sal-Soren Kahne Porte |



​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Seth Denko Sibylla Abrantes Aurelian Veruna

"Finally." he called out with mock relief, that honey-thick accent curling around every syllable, "I was beginning to worry I'd have to charm this entire province alone. The tragedy of unshared brilliance."

Raigryn included his head. He smiled from one corner of his mouth.

"Fortunately none of us were worried that would happen," he replied politely.

He glanced once toward Raigryn then, eyes narrowing with amused recognition. "And you, Lord Vayd. How wonderfully grim you look today. I do admire consistency. It is good to see you still thriving..."

"Still surviving," Raigryn said. He was now grinning from ear to ear.

"Now. Shall we get to the part where we pretend any of this is about what the people want?"

"Indeed!" Raigryn said. He could see more of the locals starting to gather closely to the Republic delegation.

"I will listen in and let you all discuss matters."

Ambition was for the young. They were busy watching their backs and trying to climb to ladder of influence.

Raigryn was past that. He was comfortable. Whilst he held some rather prejudiced views about the kind of people that held power he was, unfortunately, often right. He knew which slightly overweight, grey haired men he would be seeking out for a friendly chat over a stiff drink.

Rather than using a sharp tongue, Raigryn was effortless in his arrogance.

 

[Aiden Porte]

"You fight for a dying lie. The Force is not your gift. It is your leash. And we are the fire that will burn it from the flesh."

The Jedi Padawan heard the call.. The darkness was devastating, between all that had happed. Aiden cleared his mind, allowing the force to flow through him like a river through the valley. He became less encumbered, less devastating as it would've been many years ago. Between all those that he believe in, and he could feel their essence and light. As was the jewel draped around his neck. Given to him by his Master Solenne Abraxas

Forever a reminder to him, a light when all others went out. It furthered his resolve and his affinity with the force.

It was not the end. Lorn Reingard , Phillip Slate were there with him. As was the rest of the Vanguard. The light standing against the darkness and evil that spawned from the Unblessed.

Monstrosities of a rather large nature moved forward. The padawan's brow furrowed. His resolve ever increasing even amongst the sight of the creatures. Listening to Lorn's words as he followed suit. The beast charged forward, the Padawan reached for one of the blades at his side as his hand moved forward, slinging the blade forward. It spun towards its target and hit as intended. Not to bring the beats down, but to direct it towards him.

If he thought correctly, it would charge, close for his lightsaber to cut through it. And before that, there were many others at his side that had their weapons drawn as well.

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Lorn Reingard Aiden Porte

To say he was terrified would be an understatement. This was nothing like the lad had faced before. This wasn't even stuff out of his nightmares as his eyes darted around in fear. He did his best to stay close, making sure to stay on the defensive as opposed to the offensive. Phillip was afraid but he was sure he'd be be able to survive. He had faith in both Lorn and Aiden. All he had to do was follow their lead. Be the kind of Jedi they were being. He could do this...

And then he heard The Voice. The Voice from The Dark that tried to slither it's way into his mind. He didn't have anything fancy to reassure him and clear his mind. No fancy crystals, no proper training for all of that. By all intents and purposes, he should have crumbled. Should have buckled under the fear but there was something that Phillip was more afraid of. Failing the Jedi. They might have been parasites. Their flesh be burnt...but he wasn't going to be the reason for it as he grit his teeth. Fear meant he was alive. And that meant he could still fight.

Then they came. The shadows from the Abyss, from the Nether came snarling out onto the field. The Fear in him was telling him to run. To break formation and get away from all of this. But he would stand ready. His eyes scanning in the dark, trying to figure out the best point of attack. Defensive reactions were going to be better than offensive. As the creatures advanced, Phillip stood and waited. Waiting for the perfect opportunity for him to lash out!

He was not a proficient fighter. Not yet at least. He still only had the basic understanding of Shi-Cho under his belt but he at least knew where to stab at to hurt. Rely on his instincts. Focus on weak point. Keep aware of his surroundings at all times as he finally lunged to work, aiming to take out the nearest creature's legs. The bigger they are, the harder they fell after all.

​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

The creature filled the corridor like a nightmare made real, but Cerys was already moving.

Her sabers hissed to life with a snap-hiss of sound, twin blades casting jagged shadows across the crumbling walls. She didn't try to meet the monster's charge head-on; she twisted sideways at the last possible second, the claws screaming past her as she slashed low at one of its rear legs—a glancing blow, but enough to make it stumble.

She landed hard, boots scraping against the worn floor, breath tight in her chest. The thing was fast, stronger than it had any right to be—and worse, smart.

Cerys adjusted her stance, ready for its next move, when something prickled at the edge of her senses. Wrong. Twisted.

She turned her head just enough to catch it—the glint of metal and ghost-light rounding the far corridor. Another figure, humanoid, but wrong in ways even the Force recoiled from. The armored shape moved with predatory grace, a jagged blade forming from its arm like molten nightmare steel.

Cerys polite-cursed under her breath, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Incoming!" she called sharply, shooting a glance toward Tasia without taking her focus off the two threats now converging.

One monster was bad enough. Two meant she was going to have to be better than she'd ever been before.

| TAG: Tasia Palpatine |

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Aiden Porte | Phillip Slate

​

The first beast lunged through the broken threshold, its form a nightmare. The thing's roar made the very air shudder, a low-frequency violence that Lorn felt vibrate in his ribs.

He didn't hesitate.

Lorn planted his back foot and met the creature head-on, his golden saber flashing up in a two-handed arc. The blade carved deep into the beast's shoulder, the hiss of seared flesh drowned out by its bellowing rage. It stumbled, half-blinded, just as Aiden's thrown blade buried itself in its flank, forcing the monster's head to swing toward the Padawan.

Good. They were thinking.

He didn't have time to appreciate it. From the rift poured more of them, shapes too broken and wrong to fit in this world - beastly arms, malformed wings dragging along the ground, mouths that split too wide, too deep. The Unblessed had unleashed their worst nightmares to guard the Gatehouse.

Lorn pivoted, body low and precise, his saber a golden scythe through the onslaught. He caught glimpses of Aiden moving through the chaos, a flash of blue light and controlled fury. He saw Phillip too - terrified, yes, but rooted. Holding his ground when every instinct must have screamed to run.

Good lad.

Still, it wasn't enough to fight on instinct alone. Fear made you reckless. Fear made you dead.

Between strikes, Lorn's voice cut through the comms, steady as a heartbeat.

"Phillip, guard Aiden's flank. Don't chase kills. Defend the line."

Another beast lunged - smaller, quicker - and Lorn sidestepped, letting its own momentum betray it before driving his saber clean through its midsection. The stink of burnt ichor filled the air, thick and suffocating.

The Gatehouse pulsed again, a deep, hungry throb that made the stone at their feet shudder.

A warning.

"Move!" Lorn barked. "Push forward! We breach the inner hall before they box us in!"

The only way out was through.

He surged ahead, slashing down another twisted figure that got too close, his steps pounding across the cracked black floor. Every muscle burned from the effort, every breath tasted like blood and smoke.

But he didn't slow down. He couldn't afford to.

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

She had to hand it to the pilot.
He could pilot pretty good. She could have probably done better, but for now she’d keep her mouth shut and let him fly the ship in the direction she wanted it to be going in.

The Old Girl, a charming name in Bastila’s opinion, was started to scream in anger, physical strain displaying everywhere she looked. Cracks appearing in the viewport, scanners which had been steadily showing the everyday activity of the ship were now displaying continual warnings and images of failure and Dagos…Dagos was using the force.

She hadn’t been expecting it, mostly because he gave no indication he was even remotely force sensitive, but as he reached out she felt the ever familiar warmth that comes with being around someone attuned to the force. He seemed to be trying to maintain himself and the ship through it and so, quietly Bastila closed her eyes and added her own inner peace to his, blanketing the ship and it’s pilot in a protective layer of energy that would hopefully mean they would both…

…why was he raising his eyebrows like that…

Why was he reaching for the hyperdrive ignition?

“Frakk.” She lurched forward as the ship seemingly skipped through the air making her insides twist and squirm, faster then light travel was always a pull to the body, but doing it over a short burst, with such aggressive timing absolutely made her want to throw up. By the Force she didn’t though. “Warn me next time.” She muttered as she again tried to spread some layer of calm over her.

Then she saw it.

“Oh chit!” He must have seen it too.

“Dagos.” She said, her eyes unable to pull away from the viewport screen and the monster that was emerging from the sky. “I think we should…go back to Blaire…” She caught herself, that wasn’t the answer. Her hand moved to her lightsaber, like it would do any good against something of that size, her resolve finally finding a place to hold.
“I don’t know about you Dagos…” She gave him a smile. “But I’d really like to rub it into my Sister’s face that I’ve killed a crazy space dragon. You keep it off us, where are your gun controls?”

​

Dagos Terrek

 

[Blaire Sal-Soren]

"Shiraya's breath, how disorganized is this relief effort?“ Blaire asked out loud after the man who was loading crates near them was absolutely no help answering Lossa's questions.

She lay a reassuring hand on Lossa's wrist, "I don't mean you darling. This whole place is a chit show. I mean really what is Kalantha doing? I understand the need to expediency for something like this but honestly to be so unprepared as this, it'll be a miracle if we do any good at all."

On any normal day Blaire would've held her tongue. Criticism of the Queen was not unheard of. Especially among the Royal houses, which of course, Blaire and Lossa both belonged but this was hardly the forum for it. She supposed she was letting the stress of the day puncture her already flimsy decorum or perhaps she spent too many trips to Malastare listening to senator Del-Finn complain.

"Would you mind helping me sort those out? I can lift 'em."

"Of course! We’ll get these sorted in no time at all."

Blaire was eager to get her hands busy and busy work it was but that was far better than sitting idle waiting for something to happen, to sit and imagine all the things that could happen, very little of which was any good, nearly every outcome she thought of on the ride over was worse than the one before. Thank Shiraya Bast had been with her, talking, keep her mind on other things. Even if those other things such as Basilia's mention of slave ships and pirates made her want to clutch her chest. At least she knew Bastilia was okay. That she'd had Brandyn, that Bast could take care of herself. She could not say the same for her son or Lossa's daughter for that matter.

"How are you doing by the way?"

Blaire paused rifling through one of the crates. She wasn't sure how to answer such a complicated question.

"I thought I'd be happier," she admitted after a long pause "but I'm more worried today than I've ever been. Knowing how close Baryn is has made it worse somehow not better, like he is trapped under ice and I can see him, I can almost touch him, we are only inches apart but no matter what I do, I can only watch as he struggles to breathe." Blaire brushed away the tears that had come upon suddenly with the heel of her hand.

"Lossa, I…"

Fear gripped her by the throat, choking away whatever she was going to say next. What was she going to say? For a half crazed second she, she wanted to admit to her cousin the part she played in all this. Had Blaire taken Lossa's child? No, she hadn't even known it was happening but Blaire had been a member of The New Way. She had stood at the side of Achan Jaikavi. She stood next to him and maybe even once saw a future with him, his future, her father's future, a future she would've been proud to help usher in.

Not at this cost. She hoped.

She may not have had a direct hand in Zeri's kidnapping but she'd done other awful things. She had played some small part in making it possible. Could she admit that to Lossa, ask for forgiveness she didn't deserve and didn't want?

She sniffed back more tears.

"Lossa, I have to…"

Terror struck her again. Even more crippling this time but it was for lacking a better term, a different flavor of terror that choked her now. Then it dawned on her. It was not her terror she tasted but someone else's, many someone's.

A side effect of whatever Achan had allowed to happen to save her life was that Blaire now had some connection to The Force. Not enough to be detected by her siblings or Lossa, yet but not some small part either. It allowed her to feel what other beings felt.

Screams from outside the cargo bay.

Blaire dropped the box she was going through and ran outside unaware if Lossa followed. There was no mistaking what caused the terror. The red mouth in the sky tore open bleeding as a monster came from the other side, from The Nether and flying toward it was the very ship she had rode in on.

No, no, no, no, you bloody fething idiots. Come back, come back!

Blaire reached for her comm to hail the ship and got nothing in return but static.

Briana is going to kill me.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Lossa Aureus | Equipment: xxx |​

 

[Tasia Palpatine]

Carrying: Palpatine's Saber, Hunting gear, Kiffar Blade, Underwater breather
Wearing: Raiments of Shiraya
Tag: Cerys Dyn

She saw Cerys deftly dodge the charge too and strike at the creature causing it to stagger and almost lose its footing. She was about to engage herself when she heard the padawan's shout of warning. It looks like they had so far encountered the pet and now the master was joining.

The visage of the unblessed was nothing other than evil. Tasia couldn't even make out the humanoids species or gender under the writhing and living metallic armour. She could however feel the darkness in the creature and she felt her saber hungering for the intensity of battle. She kept forward and engaged, catching the wicked looking blade with her orange plasma edge and attempting to strike with her kiffar blade to catch the umblessed off guard. Tasia could have sworn she saw a the attacker's pulse in the visible dark black veins that ran up their neck.

The unblessed parried with their other hand, a gauntlet with horrible looking claws, the impact wasn't that great but she saw the edge taken from her blade as if it had been melted as she pulled it back. "Are you OK handling the dog?" she called to Cerys as she ducked a swing that would have taken her head clear off it it had connected.

Tasia felt the surge in power as she allowed her emotions forward and focused into her vaapad form pushing forward with her lightsaber and trying to find whatever opening the assailant might leave. The rippling metal on the skin of the attacker was reacting to the mood of battle and seemed to be creeping over the attacker and redistributing material as saber and molten sword both clashed in battle and the sword attempted to reshape it's edge.

Tasia punched her fist forward with the force which slid the unblessed backwards a few yards, it wasnt much but it was breathing space for Tasia to try and take the initiative back.

​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys heard Tasia's call over the clash of battle and gritted her teeth.

"Handle the dog?" she thought bitterly. I'll handle it just fine.

The wounded beast, however, had other plans. Enraged by its injury, it lunged with feral strength, its claws slashing the air where she stood only a heartbeat before. Cerys ducked under the first strike, spun aside from the second—but the third forced her into a hard roll across the grime-slick floor. She came up into a crouch, sabers crossed instinctively just as the creature barreled toward her again.

Timing it perfectly, she threw herself sideways and slashed upward with both blades. This time, the cut bit deep—severing tendons, cutting into the beast’s side. It gave a shuddering howl and collapsed mid-charge, skidding past her and crashing into the wall with a wet, thunderous crack.

Cerys hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs, scrambling to roll away just before the massive corpse could crush her beneath its weight.

She lay still for a fraction of a second, feeling the tremble of the floor under her. Then she forced herself up to one knee—just in time to see the Soulbound.

The abomination was worse now—so much worse.

Metal from the ruined hallway was peeling itself off walls and floor, absorbed into the creature's shifting mass. Spikes were forming along its back—long, needle-like protrusions that looked ready to launch like a barrage of harpoons. Metallic vines writhed and coiled, pulsing with unnatural life.

Her eyes widened.

"TASIA! IT'S ARMING ITSELF!" She shouted, voice echoing harshly down the corridor.

| TAG: Tasia Palpatine |

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Vendaxa
Capital Outskirts, Temporary Royal Republic Field Pavilion
Objective: Town Hall
Seth Denko Raigryn Vayd Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla let Aurelian's words wash over her as her face smoothed into a mask too composed to show offense but far too deliberate to be mistaken for anything like warmth. It was one thing to make commentary on her own abilities, another to single out her brother, Cassian Abrantes ; Really, no one could pick on him unless it was herself!

Oh Aurelian Veruna. For all his polished wit and easy charm, he was a weapon that was always hunting for a worthy scabbard. Yet Sibylla had no intention of offering herself up today.

Her gaze flicked sideways, catching the steady gleam in Seth Denko's expression, and a little further, Senator Vayd;s familiar, sardonic smile cast in sharp angles and grim amusement. Drawing a slow, careful breath, Sibylla answered, her voice as light and edged as a duelist's blade. Lysander von Ascania would be proud.

"Dear Senator Veruna," she said sweetly, "if your brilliance truly needed companions to shine, I daresay you would have found yourself in very dim company long before now."

The faintest curl lifted the corner of her mouth, allowing herself the smallest Nabooan mark of amusement, but her eyes stayed cool and cutting, never once softening.

"And as for my brother," she added in a conversational lilt, her words sliding neatly into place, "Cassian is exactly where he belongs... honoring the service House Abrantes has sworn to Naboo for generations. I find it rather endearing, really, that you seem to think legacy is only polished on marble floors."

There was no heat in her words. Only precision. Precision and purpose.

Sibylla lifted her hand once more, fluidly indicating the dais set at the heart of the town hall. There, the village magistrate and her circle of advisors waited, stiff with expectation.

"Let us proceed, gentlemen," Sibylla said, her tone polite but brisk. Without hesitation, she led the way, moving through the crowd with the kind of quiet authority that turned even wary gazes into grudging attention. Around her, the villagers shifted uneasily, their glances flickering from Sibylla to the Royal Republic banners, uneasiness almost palatable.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a rough, barking voice --

"-- We don't need speeches!" barked an elder from the side of the hall, standing stiff and proud, every line of him carved by a lifetime of survival. His white hair was bound at the nape of his neck, and the scars spiderwebbing across his knuckles told of battles fought with fists, not promises. "We need answers!"

A low murmur rippled through the gathered townsfolk in suspicion, frustration and fear.

"What's happening to our world?" he demanded. "Why's the ground shuddering under our feet? Why do the beasts flee and the winds taste wrong? If you came to tell us lies stitched up in silk, you can turn your shuttles around now. We don't need promises. We need the truth."

 

[Kahne Porte]

Objective: The Facility
Allies: Briana Sal-Soren Brandyn Sal-Soren Rook Merriex Shiraya's Hope

"Noted." The Jedi Master whispered to Rook's words as he looked back towards the complex. He couldn't imagine what she was going through being back here after being trapped here for so long. Her knowledge was invaluable, she had become as fast ally. Her indication that this was the place, was all that he needed. Brandyn issued the command and the Jedi Master looked to Briana and followed suit as they moved up ahead. He glanced back as the guard followed behind him, getting into position.

"You know your duties, first thing is to find the children and Elias. Take over their communication's center, give us a location and upload it to either myself, Briana, Brandyn or Rook." The Jedi Master looked to the others in Shiraya's hope, they had their jobs. Locate and capture whom they could, they will be brought back for questioning on any further sights of insurrection.

"Remember what I told you..." The Jedi Master looked to the commander and gave a small smile.

"I won't forget, you have my word."

He reached for his blade, the blue beam coming to life. The Crystal Kenobi's Legacy still vibrant and alive as ever. He could still feel the connection and the strong affinity with the force as it was the first day he found the crystal.

Kahne took a deep breath.

Force give me strength....

It was then the attack had begun. Jedi and ground personnel alike would begin the siege. They knew their duties and he knew with all of his heart that they would win this day.

The Force was with them.

 

[Dagos Terrek]

In spite of the chest-numbing, throat-closing, pants-chitting terror that burned its way through every vein in his body, Dagos grinned from ear to ear at Bastila when she suggested they try and slay the dragon. He wondered how long it would take for any other ships to join them in this or if they would be on their own.

"Bet!"

This was it, his chance to live up to everything he promised he would. Every Jedi who he had met along his way, who stood with him against everything from cultists on Cato Nemodia to shopping for clothes in the lower levels on Coruscant, Briana, Iceman, Sam. Aayla, Gir. Every Master who saw his potential and tried to sharpen him into something the order could be proud of, Jairdain, Caltin, Judah, Jax. Dagos had at one time or another let each of them down. Not on purpose and not in anyway they would care for but by learning their lessons and not using them. By having their friendship and letting it grow cold. By being once called Jedi and hiding from the galaxy instead of protecting it.

Well that chit was done. He would protect the people of Vendaxa.

"Where's your gun controls?"

Without thinking Dagos reached himself across Bastila to pull a lever on the other side of the copilot's seat. There was a click and Dagos instructed the Jedi to slide back. When she did, it would reveal a porthole that led down to the front reaper mag canon. It didn't pack as much of a punch as some ships but it compensated with a high rate of fire.

"BD!" Dagos called for the droid again who appeared with the two pit droids in tow. BD chirped a question "She's down there!" Dagos pointed to the hole "BD, I need to to jack in buddy. My displays are shot to chit and I need someone to monitor the arrays and you're my guy for the job."

BD chirped something in the affirmative and gave a tiny salute. The droid might be eccentric and sometimes sassy and almost definitely in need of a memory wipe, hell maybe even an upgrade but Dag didn't trust anyone more to be his copilot. He knew the little droid once patched in would do everything it could to keep the systems running and keep them in the air.

"Clang," Dagos turned now to the pit droids. Clang was the smart one or that's how BD had described it. "You're on maintenance. If something breaks you fix it, got it?" The droid warbled something, Dagos still wasn't used to their particular dialect. "Bang," now orders for the other droid, "you're my guy on ordinance. I need to know what we have and I need it loaded in the wing canons." This droid at least saluted.

The droids hurried to their places and Dag took his back behind the controls of the ship. Pulling hard on the control stick The Old Girl swept around to take a pass at creature flying along its back toward the back of its head.

"Fire when ready!" He called to Bastila.

Bastila Sal-Soren

 

[Rook Merriex]

​

Location: Netherworld
Tags: Brandyn Sal-Soren | Briana Sal-Soren | Kahne Porte

​

Rook nodded her understanding, reluctant to split their party but resolved to do what was best for the mission. As Kahne Porte and Briana Sal-Soren moved to secure the entrance, Rook allowed Brandyn Sal-Soren to take point and followed his lead, deeper into the facility.

Klaxon alarms rang loudly, filling the air with an ominous rhythm and flashing red lights. Rook steadied her blaster hand and kept close to her partner.

“It’s quiet,” she said, referring to the uncomfortable lack of Unblessed guards. “Not trying to jinx us, but… where are these bastards?” The facility wasn’t exactly garrisoned by an army, but there was enough security to keep Rook at a fair distance when she spied on their activities before. She wondered if there was a distraction elsewhere that had drawn attention away from this sector.

 

[Elias Edo]

-|| Location: The Facility, Netherworld
-|| Theme: The Normandy

Harsh red lighting pulsed in rhythm with the alarms, casting long shadows across the steel walls. The struggling form of Elias worked tirelessly to be free, but he was losing steam quickly. His wrists were raw from the restraints and back ached from being beaten. His feet dragged against the floor as the scientists pushed him closer to the towering construct they simply called “the machine.”

It was cold, mechanical, humming with unnatural energy. He twisted against their grip, teeth bared, eyes burning with defiance. "You can't do this," he forced with a wheeze, his voice growing hoarse from shouting. "You don't understand what you're doing!"

But the scientists ignored him, focused, methodical, like insects following a dark hive mind.

The machine loomed over him now. Spines of metal like claws wrapped around the pod, gaping open to receive him. A voice crackled over the intercom, incomprehensible beneath the alarms, and a hiss of pressurized gas filled the air. Elias thrashed harder, desperation blooming into fear. Then, the shadows deepened unnaturally, the ambient red light flickering like a dying flame.

From the void between flickers stepped the Archon.

An oily silhouette, more suggestion than shape, its presence choking the air. The scientists recoiled instinctively, backing away as Elias froze, his breath catching. The figure moved without sound, a gravity all its own, and Elias felt his resistance drain like warmth from his limbs. He sank to his knees.

"Do whatever you want," Elias rasped, head bowed, voice cracking beneath the weight of despair. "Just… just spare the children." For a heartbeat, silence stretched, suffocating.

Then came the Archon's laughter—low, ragged, like a blade drawn slowly across stone.

"Spare them?" it echoed, voice like ink bleeding into water. "Killing them would be a mercy, Elias. They'll never have to suffer the curse that clings to your blood."

As the laughter swelled, the machine's arms descended, and Elias—still staring at the babies behind the glass—screamed until his voice gave out and the pod lid silenced him.

​

 

[Seth Denko]

VENDAXA
Town Hall, Central Dais

Seth stayed half a step behind Sibylla as she carved through Aurelian’s barbs with that signature Abrantes precision—graceful, surgical, unflinching. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The steel in her words said enough. He only offered a faint incline of his head when her gaze passed his, steady and sure, a silent I’ve got your back.

But when the elder’s voice broke across the chamber—loud, cracked with age but full of strength—Seth stepped forward.

Not dramatically. Not to make a point. Just enough that his voice would carry without needing to raise it.

He looked toward the man—really looked. Saw the scarring, the tension in his shoulders, the fear beneath the fight.

Then he spoke.

“No fluff here, sir. I'll give it to you straight.”

His voice was firm. Blunt. The tone of someone who’d spent more time than he liked around broken promises and the people left behind in their wake.

“We don’t know exactly what’s happening. Not yet.”

A ripple of discomfort moved through the crowd, but Seth didn’t shy from it. He met it head-on.

“What we do know is this: Vendaxa shifted after the collapse of the hyperlanes. Something changed—big. You’ve all felt it. The beasts, the wind, the ground under your feet. It’s not in your heads. It’s real. The working theory is that the displacement of the planet caused damage that wasn't immediately evident.”

He glanced once toward Sibylla, then back to the people, gaze steady.

“That’s why the Royal Naboo Republic sent us. Not for show. Not for speeches. We're here to figure this out. To bring answers. Wherever aid is needed, you’ll have it. We’re not here to talk at you—we’re here to work for you.”

A brief pause. Letting that sit.

“Our best minds are already working to figure out what’s behind all this. And until we have answers, you’ll have boots on the ground, ears to the soil—and if it comes to danger, know this: you're not alone. We'll be standing in front of it.”

He didn’t try to be charming. Didn’t dress it up in ribbons or run it through protocol. Just the truth. Honest and sharp.

Then he stepped back again, silent once more, the echo of his words still hanging in the air.

A blunt blade—but one meant to hold the line.​

Sibylla Abrantes + Raigryn Vayd + Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian did not interrupt.

That, in and of itself, was noteworthy.

He stood just behind the slight rise of the magistrate's dais, one brow slightly arched as Sibylla delivered her rebuttal like it was embroidered in silk and poisoned at the hem. Aurelian didn't flinch - he was far too entertained for that. He simply took in her words with the calm curiosity of a man watching a saber duel from the balcony, mildly amused he wasn't the one getting stabbed. Not yet, anyway.

"Legacy isn't just polished on marble floors." He almost clapped.

Then came the voice - guttural, raw, cracked open like earth under pressure. The elder's challenge sliced through the air with none of Sibylla's elegance or Seth's restraint. No charm, no strategy. Just fear wrapped in fury. Real fear. The kind that couldn't be spun with courtly phrases or stitched up with policy.

And then young Lieutenant Denko spoke. No pageantry, no politics - just honesty, simple and square. It hit harder than it had any right to.

Aurelian watched him. Closely.

For someone who wasn't born into the game, the boy was playing it with the kind of sincerity that either ended in sainthood… or a shallow grave.

And then, slowly, the serpent coiled.

Aurelian stepped forward.

Not over anyone - beside them. Subtle. Calculated. Where Sibylla led with grace and Denko with grit, Aurelian slid in with silk and the scent of roses hiding the iron.

"Let's not mistake silence for indifference." he said softly, his voice a balm laced with vinegar. "You ask for the truth - and you deserve it."

He turned to the elder, gaze locking with his as if the entire room had shrunk down to just the two of them.

"You're not wrong to demand more. I'd be insulted if you didn't. But truth isn't always a thunderclap, my friend. Sometimes it's a trickle. A leak in the dam. A whisper before the storm." He tilted his head. "The planet has shifted. That's fact. The forces at play are ancient, volatile… possibly unnatural. And none of us," his gaze swept the room now, wide and inclusive, "are here with all the answers."

A pause.

"But we came anyway."

He let that settle.

"Not because we were ordered. Not because of titles or duties or Republic protocols. We came because the world cracked - and you were the ones standing on it. Because Naboo doesn't abandon its neighbors. And House Veruna does not abandon its people."

Another pause, softer this time. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought:

"And you're right to suspect that a room full of nobility and uniforms reeks of performance. We've certainly earned that suspicion."

He smiled again - this time not the dangerous kind, not the gleaming dagger in the moonlight. Just a smile. Quiet. Measured. Almost… human.

"But sometimes, a performance is the only way to get everyone to the same stage. And once we're all up here - truth has a funny way of making itself heard."

Then he turned slightly, stepping toward the edge of the dais - not in front of Sibylla, not over Seth, not blocking Raigryn's calculated distance - but between them all, where the spotlight wasn't fixed yet.

"I propose we hear from the magistrate directly," he said, nodding to the waiting elder council. "Not just what you need, but what you fear. What's changed. What patterns you've seen. Because we cannot fix what we do not understand."

He looked back at Sibylla, just a flick of his gaze, a private game resuming behind glassy diplomacy.

"After all," he added, "we came here to listen. Didn't we?"

Sibylla Abrantes | Seth Denko | Raigryn Vayd​

 

[Shinja Joka]

The nether rhino was causing so much mayhem and destruction inside the facility that a lot of the security personnel were trying to corral the beast. It was quite the successful distraction. Shinja made his way down some stairs and to an unguarded left. "Hm..." He pressed the panel, telling the lift to go up. Once it was out of the way, he looked down the shaft. It went waaaay down. "I guess this is the fastest way down. They've certainly added more levels since last time." But the ingredients they experimented with were likely to be further down. Suspicious scientists always loved to have everything underground. Shinja personally thought underwater would be more practical, but Humans were not as amphibious as Gungans were.

He leapt down the open shaft, using his fingernails to catch the wall and slow his descent. Sparks flew from where they dug into the metal. Eventually, he made it to the bottom level. It was as good a place as any to start looking. The only problem was that any guards down here would not have had the pleasure of meeting his distraction the upper floor. As he swung himself out of the lift opening, he startled a lone guard. "Hey, where do you guys keep your balos now?" The guard just stared at him open-jawed in stunned silence. Shinja shook his head. "I mean... Wheresa yousa keepa da 'shrooms? Meesa be needin' some." There. Obviously, a Gungan speaking perfect Galactic Basic had been a shock to the poor guy. Or maybe it was the abnoramally purple skin. Or perhaps it was that he had climbed down the shaft without a lift.

The guard finally came to his senses, snapping to and raising his blaster. He was immediately met with a hard chop against his neck that left him crumpled on the floor. "How rude. I only asked a simple question. Never mind that I'm here to steal your balos. Minor details." He made his way down the corridor, the red lights flashing all around. There had to be a storage room here somewhere.

---

TAGS: OPEN
Elias Edo​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila dropped into the underbelly turret with a thud, her boots slipping slightly on the scuffed durasteel plating. Dust kicked up around her like it hadn't been disturbed in years. The seat groaned as it locked in, and the targeting yoke jolted under her grip like it resented being used.

Everything about the ship screamed age.

Panels with different serial stamps. A repulsorlift hum that came and went like it was trying to conserve energy. The nav readout above her head was half-covered in flaking tape that said: "DON'T TOUCH THIS SIDE."

And yet, somehow, she felt safer here than she had in most of her life, like it was a home.

For a second, anyway.

Then the monster filled the viewport.

It wasn't a dragon. Dragons had form. Reason. This thing was wrong—like something pulled through the Force from a nightmare dreamt on a Sith tomb world. A wingspan longer than a blockade runner, plated in jagged, obsidian-scale armor. Its roar echoed in through the comms and the hull at once, like it had chewed through a freighter's fusion core and was still hungry.

It wasn't just flying—it was hunting.

"Target locked," Bastila said, trying to keep her voice level. Her stomach was doing corkscrews. Her heart? Jedi weren't supposed to think about their hearts in combat. She felt every beat like a cannon blast.

Her fingers found the trigger grips, slick with sweat.

Blaster fire screamed out into the clouds.

Two bursts. One clipped the creature's wing root. The other seared past its tail. She adjusted, fired again—

And the sky dropped.

The monster dove with speed it shouldn't have had. Bastila's gut told her: it wasn't retreating. It was retaliating.

"Dagos—it's coming back around—!"

The Old Girl, that beautiful, barely-held-together relic, groaned as Dagos threw her into a barrel roll. Inertia slammed Bastila sideways. Sparks exploded from a blown panel above. A pipe vented coolant like a dying droid's hiss.

Then came the impact.

WHAM.

A shockwave hit them like a turbolaser direct hit. The left of the hull shuddered violently. She heard it—metal ripping. And a sickening, low creak like the ship itself was deciding whether or not to hold together.

"Port stabilizer's offline!" Bastila declared as one of the droids shrieked over the displayed comms.

The viewport was nothing but smoke and blurred motion. Bastila hit the targeting scope again—it blinked once, then went black.

She was blind.

"I've lost visuals!" Her voice cracked. Her hands were still locked on the grips, white-knuckled, knuckles aching. "Where is it?!"

Above them? Below? The Force rippled around her like a tide—but she couldn't read it. Not clearly. Her focus was splintered. Shattered.

She'd fought assassins. Outdueled knights in training halls that reeked of incense and talent.

But this?

This was different.

And she wasn't ready.

She felt the hull vibrate with the monster's screech, still circling. Still hungry. Bastila blinked through stinging tears and smoke, lips drawn tight.

"Power to the dorsal shields," she whispered. Not a command. A prayer. As the force flickered, the monster giving her a moments warning.

The storm wasn't coming.

It was already here.

​

Dagos Terrek

 

[Kahne Porte]

Objective: The Facility
Save: Elias Edo Children
Allies: Briana Sal-Soren Brandyn Sal-Soren Rook Merriex

The alarms had sounded, that element was gone. Several unblessed personal moved forward to attack and the Jedi' Master's blade cut through them. The guard had split, no doubt making their way to find the location of Elias and the children. He stood by his allies, incapacitating when necessary and when not, they were meeting their end. The Jedi Master in truth felt no remorse for these fanatics, he trusted to hope. And yet there were those that were too far gone.

There was then music to his ears.

"Kahne, we have located where they are keeping Elias and the little ones. We are uploading it to you and the rest of the team now."

"Perfect, secure that area and meet us along the way."

The Jedi turned his body as an attacked came his way, the blade moving past him. A solid succession of strikes and the enemy fell to the ground.

"Push forward." They were closing in, this was their most desperate hour.