Junction Shadows Over Endor | GA & SO Junction of S'krrr and Empty Hex

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery landed lightly at the base of the platform and began her quiet approach, her steps measured and careful. She didn't rush, didn't draw her saber, and didn't call out. She simply listened and followed what the Force was telling her. The disturbance was not a storm or a warning. It was a person.

It was Allyson.

The presence was faint, nearly buried beneath layers of other signatures, but not enough to fully hide it. Not from her. Valery knew the way Allyson felt in the Force. She had memorized it a long time ago, whether she wanted to or not. She made her way along the outer perimeter of the small command post, nodding politely at a pair of passing soldiers without breaking stride. Her senses swept across the area ahead, brushing faintly against electrical signatures, overlapping footsteps, and a few passing flickers of agitation from the base's technical staff.

Something was out of place.

The closer she came, the stronger the feeling became. Her eyes scanned slowly, catching the faintest shimmer of something not quite right near the lower wall. Not a visual error, but a ripple in presence. Valery exhaled through her nose and stepped closer. She said nothing. Her expression was unreadable. She simply stood still for a moment, studying the wires along the wall and the narrow access panel nestled behind them.

Then her eyes flicked down.

A shadow.

Allyson was here somewhere. Hidden but not gone. Valery waited. Not long. Just enough. Letting her presence be felt without speaking a single word.

She'd know Valery was coming.

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Nyxira Valis]

​

The shadows beneath Endor's trees were ancient, older than any Empire, older than the war machines that now stalked the soil, older even than the Jedi who once burned through its forests. But tonight, those shadows stirred anew. Far from the Alliance fortifications and scattered encampments, a silent vessel emerged from the sky. Obsidian and smooth, it cut through the air, barely disturbing the jungle as it descended toward a secluded stretch of forest floor.

The ship touched down.

And from it, Nyxira emerged. Clad in dark robes, the Sith Lady stepped onto Endor's soil as if it had been waiting for her. The forest bent with wind not made by weather, the Force itself recoiling around her presence. She had been gone, far beyond known space, but now she had returned.

With war on the horizon, and the Alliance coiling in anticipation, her presence here was no accident. There were targets to break. Wards to unravel. Defenses to rot from within.

But first, a signal.

Nyxira pressed a gloved hand to a small holopad. Her voice carried through encrypted channels tuned to only one recipient.

"Serina. The time for wandering is over.
"I've returned. And I am not alone."
"Find me. We have work to do."

The message was cut. The forest went still. Somewhere across the stars, she would feel it, a call pulling her to Endor.

Darth Virelia ​

 

[Kain Aldore]

Objective I : Fortification
Tags: Nos Voros (Open)

By the force he was on his last nerves. The rest of the turbolaser repairs went off without any more misfires. He even got the one he'd been struggling with functioning better than all the rest. But if it wasn't one thing, it was another. Kain was trying his hardest to keep up. Systems would fritz out and he'd drag them back to life like a stubborn surgeon. Jumpstarting power couplings, kicking failed generators like they owed him money until they'd spark back to life. The whole thing was odd, like the outpost didn't want to be defended. No that was wrong.

Kain was diving elbows deep in the innards of a comm terminal. A light stick hanging out of his mouth as he bit down trying to keep it steady, he'd been in the midst's of fusing a split wire back together. He figured bugs had been getting into the hardware. Chewing down on anything that wasn't durasteel, he was about to start an extermination business at this rate.
'Kain's cockroach saber jockey's.'
No that wasn't right
'Aldore's roach Endor's.'
Yeah. that was the one.

That's when he saw it. Sabotage, right past the wires it looked like carbon scoring plastered on the housing. Not a mistake that would be caused by a manufacturer or patch job. It was in the wrong spot.

He stood, light stick clattering to the ground from his jaw. Eyes glancing around at the passing Alliance members. He clocked a group of soldiers sitting near by. A few mechanics wandering in another direction. Jedi. Pilots. Engineers. Everyone seemed like they belonged there. In fact given a mirror he'd probably be the stand out. This wasn't good. He'd heard reports of commandos found in the forest but this was a bit different than a trooper hiding in the shrubbery.

He reached down and hauled the straps of his flight suit up and over his shoulder, letting them slap down like a pair of suspenders. His jacket came next concealing his weapons. He began to wander. If there was someone in camp sabotaging their equipment, they would most likely look like a mechanic.

Kain came to the edge of the encampment, just past a watch tower. Forest was the only thing left in front of him. He felt outwards with the force and here came the part he sucked at. He could tell there was life out there. However the finer details? Size, Direction, Intention. All lost on the former Jedi Knight.

The satellite dish to his left protruding though the canopy had also been messed with. There was someone here in the camp, making them second guess their own equipment, or trying to delay progress enough that it could throw everyone off during an assault. "Great... Now I need to play where's Jabba." Kain's hand extended upwards, and with a steady twist of his wrist the dish began to move back into the position he'd help calibrate earlier in the stay.

He made his way back through the camp, he'd been given a list of names he knew were definitely Alliance members, and more importantly a list of names that could be trusted. One of them had stood out Nos Voros .

Kain walked over to that section of the camp, and in his typical irreverence walked past whoever was standing outside of the tent, clearly Interrupting a moment.

"Oops." Kain stared at the Zeltron and his Chiss companion, having heard the very end of their conversation, he was in here with three souls, not two. "Cool... So I'm sure we can find streamers. But before then we have a problem. I think there's someone in the camp, and I'm pretty sure they don't belong here." He could find the two a baby shower present later. First, the mole.

 

[Emery Lloren]

OBJ. ? — Assess and continue​

​

"I am not afraid to fight, I am afraid to forget why I'm fighting."
________
Equipment — Coded datapad, signal scramblers, short switchblade, his Lightsaber.
Clothing — Civilian clothing underneath dark Jedi robes.
Theme — Change (In The House Of Flies)
________​

The hiss of the shuttle doors behind him faded into the hush of Endor’s forests. Emery stepped off the ramp, boots sinking slightly into damp moss. Cool air kissed his face, thick with pine and something older—like the planet remembered a time before war.

He didn’t speak to anyone. Didn’t look back toward the temporary outpost as it bustled with offloading crates and clipped orders. His path turned away from it all, down a sloped trail of earth and root, toward a glade where the trees grew tighter and the sky narrowed overhead.

He stopped only once—long enough to run his fingers along the bark of a massive tree, breathing in its steady hum in the Force. Then he found a quiet rise beyond the camp’s edge, the kind of place no one set up tents, and lowered himself to sit cross-legged in the moss.

Silence. Deep and clean. He closed his eyes, and the world moved around him: the rustle of leaves, the shift of birds, the murmur of the Force threading through it all.

It didn’t judge. It didn’t question. It simply was.

But then, a presence. Not the kind that startled—familiar, muted, walking with measured steps. Emery opened his eyes, but didn’t rise. He waited, steady and unintrusive.

When the figure stepped into view, he offered only a small nod in greeting.

And after a beat, his voice was low—almost quiet enough to be mistaken for the breeze.

“You walked far enough to be alone. That usually means something.”

He didn’t press. His gaze flicked toward the forest, as if to share the space with it instead of filling it.

“I come to places like this to listen. Not to answers. Just to the quiet, when the rest is too loud.”

Still seated, Emery lifted one hand, brushing aside a thin frond swaying near his blond hair.

“Sometimes the Force says nothing. That can be the hardest thing to hear.”

He turned his head slightly, not in challenge, not to study, just to be present.

“You don’t owe me words. But I’ll be here a while, if you’d rather not sit with the silence alone.”

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t make assumptions.

He simply made space.

Nos Voros

​

 

[Azurine Varek]

The Pin Drops

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 [x] | Lightsaber 2 [x] | Hook Swords

Like wind that whistled through the streets, Azzie moved through shadows, leaving behind only a subtle footprint or two in the dust behind her. There was nothing to indicate there was anything out of place as she trailed close behind a small group of thrall soldiers from a rooftop. She wouldn't need to fight them, at least not here.

Wrapped in her invisibility, she would reach a hand outward and sweep it through the air. A technique of mental manipulation, willing their thoughts into extreme drowsiness as one word was placed into their thoughts: sleep. Their simple minds would be overcome almost instantly, the group of eight slumping into an unconscious sleep and being caught by a swift telekinetic response, which made their collapse to the ground at the back of an alley lined with long, hardened volcanic rock just as soundless.

She dropped from her position, her feet making a gentle pitter upon her landing. Her hands searched for any data chips and key cards. Something that could give her any indication of a map or a clue. Nothing.

"Farking hell..." she whispered into the wind.

She was about ready to give up the effort and move, sweeping her eyes across the pile of sleeping... soldiers? Azzie couldn't tell; they had auras like soldiers, could be affected like something living, but acted like robots. Her scan brought her to one that seemed out of place amongst the others. More... alive. Sweeping through his belongings, she finally found something—a small data chip. Immediately, she scanned it through the signet ring secured around her finger. It wasn't much, no internal access, but it did have a city map with a couple of markings. One of which was a set of letters and numbers.

"Whatever that shipment consists of, he cannot be allowed to leave here with it. Find out what it is, retrieve a sample, and destroy the rest."

"VX-NX13, Does that mean anything to you?" She spoke softly through the link while scanning through the map, her mind momentarily skipping past the knowledge that the Eternal Father himself was already here. A transport stockpile, then, likely whatever that designation code happened to be relating to. "There's a series of tunnels under the city. I'll take those from here; they're less likely to be guarded. If they have something worth guarding, it's going to be near the city center. I'll start there."

Turning on her heels, Azzie once again vanished into the air as if she'd been nothing but an illusion to begin with. A swift and silent flame, unseen until it was too late. She trusted Thurion with her life, knowing she'd be alerted if he found anything new. Strike team transports were very likely positioning themselves and gathering what they could as well. Any extra crumb would be helpful.

She pulled a small tube from one of the larger pouches hanging from her belt, the item nearly jumping from the bag as her hand hovered over it. A beam emitted from what could have been called lipstick, which Azzie carefully maneuvered through the screw mechanisms that held a street grate in place. Following the pop of metal, she only had a moment to lift, drop herself downward into the tunnels, and place the grate back into its designated spot. A moment she was lucky she had, watching as a couple of thralls rounded the corner right as the metal moved back to position. They wouldn't be smart enough to be able to figure out much more than that.

She had a map, a mission, and a location with which to head first.

Thurion Heavenshield | Darth Carnifex​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time coming."

Tag - Nyxira Valis



Endor breathed in slow, ancient rhythms. The trees whispered not in greeting, but in warning, their branches bowed under the weight of memory and omen. And beneath them, the ground stirred. Not from machines. Not from war. But from the arrival of something worse.

A shadow fell across the jungle canopy as a second vessel pierced the atmosphere, silent and invisible to all but the most sensitive eyes. It did not roar. It coalesced—a needle of onyx cutting a thin wound across the moonlit sky. No markings. No broadcast signature. No crew.

Only her.

Darth Virelia did not exit the ship. She emerged, as if the forest had conjured her—long legs descending one after the other in the fluid poise of a queen untouchable by the mud she walked on. Her cloak spilled from her shoulders like a falling star's wake, deep crimson bleeding into velvet black. At her sides, her hands were still—gloved in soft synthweave, the fingertips lacquered obsidian. Even the lights of the ship dimmed behind her, as if unwilling to compete.

She paused at the forest's edge. The soil breathed her name without knowing it. Roots recoiled. Air thinned. Small creatures fled. Not from scent. From presence.

The Dark Side did not ripple around her—it curled, languid and possessive, as if the jungle itself had become a throat and she its command to swallow.

A single step forward, and the Force bent like an obedient knee.

"Endor," she said aloud, tasting the word like it offended her to speak it. "A world of ghosts and fallen myths. My master always did enjoy poetry."

Her voice was silk on broken glass.

She tilted her chin slightly, allowing the moonlight to touch her face. Beauty sculpted to wound. A mouth too still. Eyes that held no warmth, only the slow calculation of a sovereign measuring the worth of a galaxy. Her cheek bore a single faint scar—elegant, deliberate, preserved not out of sentiment, but as punctuation. Proof that what could touch her, could not break her.

The message had come five nights prior.

Nyxira.

That name was not a memory. It was a wound, humming with old, unfinished rhythms. Once, she had knelt at the feet of that voice. Once, she had studied at her side, a girl-child draped in black, fed doctrines by the hand that had sculpted a weapon from raw ambition.

And then she had been abandoned.

No, she reminded herself. Set free.

Because Nyxira had been wise enough to know what was coming. That Serina Calis, the girl in the dark, had to die. That something else needed to bloom in her place. Something terrible. Something pure.

"You gave me permission to become this," Virelia whispered. "And now you want to see what you made."

She let the words hang in the air. The forest listened.

Then, she moved.

She did not march—she glided. Through undergrowth, across wet roots and stone, her every motion preternaturally smooth. The Dark Side opened paths before her, not through brute command but because it wanted to please her. Birds fell silent. The hum of insects collapsed into absence. Virelia's path was one of subtraction, not violence—life simply chose not to resist.

There, in a clearing of violet fungi and blackened bark, a presence awaited.

Nyxira.

She felt her long before she saw her. That familiar thrum of withered patience, coiled will. The scent of ruin polished into elegance. Still powerful. Still coiling around the bones of empires.

But the balance had shifted.

Virelia stopped a dozen meters away, standing beneath a crooked tree that bent from her presence alone.

"I answered your call," she said, her voice low, lyrical, venomous. "Do you recognize me, Master?"

She didn't bow.

Not out of arrogance. Out of design.

The silence between them was not awkward. It was sacred. It stretched like a blade being drawn.

"It's funny," Virelia continued, beginning to walk—slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving Nyxira's. "I imagined this moment, once. What I would say. What I would do. Whether I would kneel. Whether I would strike. Whether I would weep."

Her voice curled, intimate and poisonous.

"But I feel none of it. Not hate. Not love. Only certainty."

She stopped again, within arm's reach. Her eyes burned—not with fire, but with calculation, a tidal pull that made the very air feel heavier.

"You left me in the dark. And I became it."

Then, in a motion too smooth to be casual and too casual to be safe, Virelia reached up and slowly drew back the hood of her cloak.

Moonlight kissed her bare skin. Pale. Perfect. Inhuman.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He sensed him before He saw him, but He needn't even turn His head to know. The others were slower, their awareness so far less evolved than His own. When they did, they raised their weapons in warning, Blackblade Guards leveling their strange, otherworldly weapons at the intruder. The officers, left further out than the cohort of Blackblades surrounding the Eternal Father, reached for their own weapons; more traditional blaster pistols and single-edged vibroswords. Both Crownguard drew their lightsabers, each one a hissing blade of thin, crackling plasma.

For a few moments, only the deafening silence existed amidst the snarling of energy weapons and the hushed movements of those standing between the Black Iron Tyrant and the Lion King. Then, the Dark Lord turned around, facing His age old adversary once again. Both had clashed more than either cared to count, each drawn to one another as paragons of Light and Dark respectively. Where darkness thundered and surged, Light swept up to meet it head-on.

Such as it always had been.

"You're a long way from Midvinter, little lion." The Dark Lord's voice crashed like waves against the shore, carrying with them the inexorable, glacial weight of the depths therein. "You should not have come back." The Dark Lord raised a hand, but instead of unleashing His minions about the Jedi Master, they all lowered their weapons and withdrew to the very margins; leaving the two of them with no separation. He stepped towards Thurion, the armor draped across His form shimmering with the terrible energy of the Dark Side. His cloak of plundered beskar swept out at His back like a fan, each scale catching the light in a kaleidoscope of fallen dreams.

"Do you even know what you're doing here? You cannot possibly fathom." He drew His lightsaber, a long narrow handle crowned by twin, jagged emitter claws, the snarling plasmatic blade of the Dark Lord erupting from between them. The Dark Lord's eyes watched the Lion King warily, knowingly. They'd fought enough to become well acquainted with one another's tactics and stratagems. And if there was one thing the Dark Lord knew of His valiant adversary, He would not have made his presence known if he were alone. That he'd penetrated so far into the city was a testament to the Lion King's ability to move unseen should he wish.

There were others here.

He gestured towards the sky, and from elsewhere in the city the gates of a giant rookery burst open. From within, thousands of screeching monsters rushed forth and took to the sky. They were the Vorn-Strunga, and they existed only to kill and to die. In great swooping swarms they danced above Nevarro City, eyes searching for anything that did not belong. The great hum of their insectoid wings filled the air with a great keening wail, like that of the tormented dead.

"They'll find whoever you've brought with you, Thurion. But you? You are mine."

Azurine Varek | Thurion Heavenshield ​

 

[Nos Voros]

Objective: Interruption — Intelligence Concern & Shifted Trajectory
Outfit: Senate fatigues and utility belt (off-duty), light armor vest

The camp was cooling. Both in temperature, and tension. After a long day, even the rustle of Ewok scouts through brush had become background noise. That meant it was the perfect time for something to go wrong.

Nos had barely stepped out of the tent the Kain Aldore intercepted him.

The man had a pilot's gait, fast hands, and zero respect for boundaries. Nos had barely nodded a greeting when Kain opened with a bomb:

"Cool... So I'm sure we can find streamers. But before then we have a problem. I think there's someone in the camp, and I'm pretty sure they don't belong here."

Nos blinked once. Neutral, by sheer force of will.

“...Define not belong.”

Kain started rattling off inconsistencies—carbon scoring on comms relays, misaligned sensor dishes, tampered power cables. Real sabotage, if the man wasn't just seeing ghosts.

“You're sure it wasn’t maintenance error?”

Nos folded his arms. A long pause. A stare that could kill.

No, not Eivii's doing. She wouldn't use me like this again...

His jaw clenched. She had to be. The fear of history repeating itself dug in. If there was any doubt, any evidence, any way he could stop her before she did anything irreversible.

Like trying to assassinate a diplomat.
Chit.

“Alright. Show me.”

Nos walked to the indicated sites of sabotage perimeter in terse silence, checking relay nodes and mechanical junctions. He was devastatingly silent, a hulking brute of a Zeltron checking carbon scoring like the world depended on it. His world did. If she was the saboteur, this moon might very well depend on it. He absorbed. Noted. Cross-referenced with memory.

At one terminal, a scorch mark did look out of place.

He glanced toward camp. Toward her tent.
He hated the thought. But it crawled in anyway.

She’s been in this kind of work. Close quarters, knives, infiltration. She'd know how to mask it. She said she changed.…

He looked away. The guilt was immediate. And ugly. He had to know.

You're investigating sabotage. Not interrogating your past. Focus up.

He nodded toward the forest.

“I was heading out anyway. If someone slipped in, they’d leave signs.

He didn’t wait for Kain to agree. Just moved, whether or not the pilot kept up was up to them.

The brush was thicker outside the perimeter. Moss swallowed footfalls. The sky closed in.

After about ten minutes, forest grew quieter.

And then—

A presence. Not hostile. Not hunting. Just... there.

Nos slowed his pace.

Emery Lloren didn’t move to intercept. Just sat beneath a tree, patient as the dusk.

Nos approached cautiously, but not in combat posture. The moment didn’t demand it. This one was a Jedi. The coincidence was unsettling. He was severely hoping it was coincidence and not the... Force... doing something.

Emery spoke softly, eyes still half-closed:

“You walked far enough to be alone. That usually means something.”

Dank farrik

“I come to places like this to listen. Not to answers. Just to the quiet, when the rest is too loud.”
“Sometimes the Force says nothing. That can be the hardest thing to hear.”

the Zeltron looked at him. Then away.

“I don’t hear it at all. Never have.”
But Nos could hear when someone was trying to help. Voros was conflicted. The hidden panic was rising to the surface.

He was just paranoid. Eivii was the saboteur.
But she has a history of doing precisely this.
Manipulating him as a pathway to her target.
She said she has changed.
Kark it, Nos had believed her.
Her emotions – picked up through Zeltron Empathic Telepathy – seemed sincere.
He wanted desperately to believe she left that life behind.
This has to be the worst timing in the galaxy.

The red brute was spiralling. He let his guard down for less than an evening. And–

“You don’t owe me words. But I’ll be here a while, if you’d rather not sit with the silence alone.”

The Jedi's words cut through his thoughts.
Nos exhaled slowly. He was no good to anyone in this state. He was reminded of New Cov, of the stranger, Matthew of Valendale , who had guided him out of another spiral.

Despite the turmoil within and the urgency a sabeteur implied, Nos sat down across from the Jedi, boots rooted, back stiff.

“You want to sit in the silence? Fine. Just... don’t tell me it has meaning.”

A pause. Then, softer:

“Not everything has to mean something.”

He didn't mention the fear of meaning in this moment, the dread he felt at the synchronicity of events.
He didn’t mention the pregnancy.
The sabotage. The pattern from the past
He sat, even if Kain Aldore was still trailing close behind.
The forest encapsulated them.
For now, that was enough. It had to be.

Kain Aldore Emery Lloren​

 

[Annasari]

OBJ II: WAR PREP // COMMITTEE ON DEFENSE AND COMMITTEE ON INTELLIGENCE MEETING // PREPARE
Kaela Verrin | Monaray Dod | OPEN

The conference room held neither the dramatics nor the red tape of the senate rotunda. Thirty some-odd senators, some haphazardly put together after the midnight page had been sent out, gathered around a single table. It was need to know - those from various committees that would oversee the first hours of the preparation for battle. The boots on the ground. The axle which spun the wheel that was the Alliance. Amongst their irk was the infrequent general, sent to advise the grey beards and bleeding hearts on the more delicate aspects of war.

Senator Vahl had not been so caught off guard to appear in pajamas. The smugglers of the guild came and went, slipping through the cracks in the Sith’s Blackwall, and brought back tidings with them. She had been dressed in her jumpsuit and mantle that held her heavy cloak since the afternoon. All soldiers needed their warpaint.

A colleague had taken the floor, droning on and on about the various reinforcements that were being made on Endor as they spoke. As if they had not been sent ahead of the meetings to their datapads. As if they could not read. The representative of Jakku found herself growing more and more impatient as the ramblings continued. This was there few and brave to rule a great nation - those to settle with the status quo, and accept an assault on a member world without question.

“Thank you very much, Senator.” She interrupted in a lengthy pause.

Sputters rolled from his mouth, but were silenced by a daring glance as she rose from her seat. He melted back into his own, flushed and seething. She had seniority, to which he faltered.

“We so obviously know where they are. We are preparing a defense, for which I am grateful to hear all the finer details of.” The sarcasm dripping from her tongue suggested anything but. “Yet, if we have an expected trajectory, it does beg the question - why do we not launch a counter offensive? It need not be a large force, with their focus on Endor. A hit and run, if you will. If we have the intelligence, we should do more than batten the hatches. Let us not create a lasting advantage, yes?”