Junction Rumble within Dee’ja Peak | Plasma Wars [NEO/RNR Junction of Farstine and Nimban]

[Sibylla Abrantes]

// Objective One //

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Dee'ja Peak Capitol
Underground Generators
Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | Eventually Zunn Zenraj
Gear x x x x x x

Adrenaline slammed through Sibylla's veins, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the roar of rushing water thundered in her ears as Lysander's grip tightened around her wrist, and despite everything, despite the danger, the uncertainty, the madness of it all, when he said, 'Trust me,' she didn't hesitate.

Not for a second.

By the time Lysander all but slammed her into the narrow maintenance corridor, sealing their escape with a violent crash of debris, her chest ached, her muscles burned, and it felt as if her world had just been flipped. She gave a grimacing wince as the impact rattled her bones, the echo of it vibrating through the metal walls.

It was getting to be a pattern now. Life-or-death situations, impossible odds, and Lysander at her side. Or, more often, dragging her out of the fire at the last possible second.

Then again, she was still alive. And that was saying something.

Sibylla sucked in a breath, forcing the chaos to the back of her mind. Her gaze flickered upward, meeting the bright green of Lysander's, who was still braced against the wreckage he'd sealed behind them. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, sweat glistening at his temple before it saturated the fabric of the wrap across the lower half of his face.

"You know," she muttered, voice breathless, as she shifted against the cold metal, "this is not how I pictured anyone sweeping me off my feet." The laughter that followed was half-adrenaline, half-disbelief, but it died quickly as she let her head thunk lightly against the wall, exhaling as she gave a grimacing wince at the pain that shot through her shoulder again.

A sharp beep cut through the moment. Sibylla snapped her head toward the flickering holomap on her wrist. A red dot blinked into existence -- a location marker, pulsing steadily.

The generators. Just up ahead.

She shoved away the aches and pains, straightening as the low hum of power vibrated beneath their feet. The emergency lighting flickered, casting long shadows along the narrow passage. They weren't safe, not yet, but they had a path forward.

She turned to Lysander, her expression set, determination hardening her voice. "Come on," she said, already moving toward the corridor's end.

"Let's take the city back."

Her words lingered in the stale air, less a command, more a declaration -- no, a promise.

With quickened steps, the pair finally made it, the soft hum of machinery filling the space along with the low, steady thrum beneath their feet. They had arrived.

The generators stood before them, the heart of the city's infrastructure.

And now, it was time to stop that heart from beating.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

Gear: The Honorblade | Theed Sharpshooter Rifle | Royal Standard (RS-29) | 2x Thermal detonator | Lightsaber

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Lysander stole a quick glance at Sibylla. Despite the pandemonium, her laughter cut through it all, easing the tension in his shoulder he hadn’t realized he was carrying. With adrenaline still thrumming in his ears, he then drew another deep breath to steady his heart.

The boy’s gaze wandered to the ceiling as he took a moment to reflect on how conflict seemed to follow him like a shadow lately. Training was relentless, and chaos erupted literally everywhere he traveled. Though he typically thrived in such an environment, the brief interlude here didn’t actually feel so terrible.

Part of him wished to savor it.

The sudden beeping sound didn’t seem to faze the acolyte; his focus held, aware it wasn’t a threat. “I would much rather have offered you my arm to dance instead of running for our lives," he murmured in return, his voice carrying warmth. Lysander’s lips twitched upward. "Or an orchestra to drown out all this chaos. One day.. maybe."

When he found Sibylla once more, it was as if their shared goal was reflected in her eyes. Drawing from it, his mind sharpened like a blade, ready for whatever lay ahead. With a nod of acknowledgment and no need for words, he fell a single step behind her, following until their brief journey brought them to the power generators.

In many ways, it was a foreign, even humbling sight. The massive structures hummed with a life of their own beneath the capitol building. Much like webs, networks of pipes and control panels surrounded them. And like the currents of the Force, their energy pulsed in the air.

Lifting a hand, he removed the green veil from his face; the fabric was damp with sweat. Brushing his tunic’s sleeve against a brow, he could feel the cool air press against his skin. Her words filled the space between them, drawing him into a state of contemplation; now, he was calculating the different possibilities and their next move. For once, a shared victory had a nice ring to it, rather than achieving something alone.

The acolyte reached for one of the thermal detonators at his belt while studying their target. “We could set the timers on these in the weak points,” he suggested, his voice calm. “Between that the rising flood.. it should be more than enough to take this place down.” A pause followed so the words could settle. “Or we could even place them more strategically.. less risk. Either way, I’d say it still ends in our favor.”

His attention drifted back to the girl as if seeking confirmation; or perhaps, something entirely different. A hint of a smile touched Lysander's features. "Unless you’ve got a different plan in mind. I'm open to hearing it. Besides.. all plans have room for improvement. Let's make sure our energy reform doesn't leave room for negotiation.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

// Objective One //

​

Dee'ja Peak Capitol
Generators
Interacting with Lysander von Ascania
Gear x x x x x x

Sibylla blew a breath through her nose, the faintest smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth despite the ache in her shoulder and the chaos still pulsing behind them.

"Careful," she quipped, voice low and dry as they entered the generator chamber, "You keep saying things like that, I might start expecting ballrooms and chandeliers instead of blasters and crumbling duracrete."

The air was thick with ionized charge, the generators humming like a living beast beneath the Capitol's bones. Sibylla slowed just a fraction, hazel eyes sweeping across the room. Pipes groaned under pressure, warning lights flickered along ancient consoles; everything about this place screamed fragile, vital, and catastrophically unstable.

And now, it was their job to break it.

She took in Lysander's plan, her jaw tightening slightly. Her lips drew into a thoughtful line, not displeased, but weighing. Every second counted, and yet her mind ran through civilian grid tie-ins, flood overflow predictions, how long it would take before Republic reinforcements arrived, if they arrived.

"As long as we can disable them without harming civilians..." she murmured, mostly to herself. But she knew better. There were no perfect moves in real war. No clean victories.

Still. They could make it count.

"Set them by the regulators and flow intake junctions. Enough to cripple, not obliterate." Her words were sharp, deliberate, as she moved to help. "Between the detonators and the flood, that should buy us time. And when the reinforcements hit ground, the Mandalorians won't have their power advantage."

The glint in her eyes wasn't adrenaline but resolve. Purpose. Then, with a soft breath, she tossed Lysander a look over her shoulder.

"Here we go."

There was no need to say more. They moved like two halves of a thought, planting the charges quickly, methodically. Her fingers trembled once -- only once -- as she calibrated the timer. Then it was done.

Sibylla straightened, the quiet beep of a primed detonator echoing behind them.

The air seemed thinner suddenly.

"Let's move. Detonation range isn't something I feel like testing today."

They raced down the maintenance tunnel, feet pounding, the thrum of the generators fading behind them. As they neared the outer corridor, the roar of distant water swelled again as a second flood approaching with all the wrath of a planet that had had enough.

Sibylla didn't slow. Not until they were far enough to feel the tremble in the ground.

The blast hit like thunder rolling up from the planet's heart. The tunnel shuddered violently, walls groaning under the impact. A gust of heat washed over them then it was gone, leaving only the sharp scent of smoke and ozone.

They made it.

Chest heaving, her hair clinging to her brow, Sibylla leaned forward, hands braced on her knees.

"Blessed Shiraya," she gasped, a breathless laugh escaping her throat. "You ever notice how every time I'm around you, something explodes?"

She looked over at him, strands of damp hair curling around her cheeks, a dry glint in her eye. "You must be absolutely delightful at parties."

And yet, beneath the sarcasm, something real pulsed there -- relief, respect.

The power generators were down. Dee'ja Peak was no longer under Mandalorian control.

It was time to take their world back.

~ Exit Thread ~