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?”

 

[Mykel Dawson]

BYOO - GHOSTS OF THE EMPIRE​

While the Sanctuary Moon was the focus of much of the Alliance's preparations in the Endor system, Mykel was able to find purpose on Kef Bir. The constant supercells that churned across the surface of the ocean moon provided the perfect environment to test his newly modified Amphrite on behalf of the Starfighter Corps and KSA.

Perched in low orbit, he now eyed a particularly massive supercell rolling eastward along the equator, large enough to mask the area of a continent with its choleric swirling mass. From his vantage point, the black arms of the storm appeared to spin slowly and smoothly, but in reality, Amphrite's sensors were clocking a brisk 713 kilometers per hour at the outer walls. Unprotected hulls could be shredded at such speeds. Nice and breezy.

Every so often, torrents of lightning would flare up across the supercell, discharging terajoules worth of energy. More than enough power to keep entire cities running, or obliterate them.

It was quite literally the perfect storm.

"Azure-1 to Skykeep, initiating phase three of testing," he announced cooly over comms.

With a mental command by the technopath, the blue dart angled its nose downward and dived for a pass straight through roving hell.

Xian Xiao

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Lucette //:
//: Aris Noble //: Zaiya Ceti //:
//: Attire //:

The creatures that Lucy made were cute but terrifying. Viers had soon learned after trying to pet a few of them. Particularly the ones that looked like cute bunnies. Viers learned to keep her hands to herself when it came to things that were made in the labs of her girlfriend - a word that she had learned described their relationship.

Still, the word baffled the Corellian as she stretched, listening to the girl describe the facility's history. Viers let her arms fall lazily behind her head as she observed the Commonwealth troopers release the creations onto the world where teddy bears were known to murder if you strayed too far from the path.

"Are we leaving Tibbs here too?" she asked innocently while glancing towards the companion she saw as a rival for Lucy's affections.

Viers found Tibbs to be adorable and affectionate in its own way. Still, there was a hint of jealousy, knowing that while Viers was away, the creature had all of the Princess's attention. Knowing that it was a question that she shouldn't have asked, Viers gave Lucy one of her most endearing and charming grins.

"I'm kidding~ of course." Viers corrected herself as she let her arms fall back to her side. Often, she has found herself accompanying Lucy on less dangerous excursions. Still, with the world being in Alliance space, it meant that there could be interaction with wandering Jedi.

If there was a chance to scrap, she was going to scrap.

Tilting her head, Viers really didn't understand what made DNA precious, but she knew it was something that Lucy liked to collect because it meant more creatures.

"What kind of DNA are you thinking you can find?" she asked, curious as to what the next creature that Lucy had in mind. Maybe it was something that Viers could fight or perhaps something that could eat her, like the camping trip they had when they were younger. From her knowledge, that creature was made by Lucy's elusive grandmother.

Viers stopped and sniffed the air. The Force danced around them, and it was not the usual vibrations that clung to Lucy. A hand reached out in front of Lucy; the monk's demeanor changed, indicating that something was not right.

The usually playful Viers was suddenly serious, and her voice low.

"We're not alone, someone's out there…"

Pausing, she felt through the waves of the Force once more, searching for whatever it was. Despite being able to sense, she was more prone to picking up machines and netherworld spawn.

Lucky for her, she picked up a foreign wave coming from a droid - one she didn't recognize as one of their own.

"Lucy…you should head back to the ship."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Valery Noble //:
//: Attire //:

Oh beans, oh beans, oh beans.​

Allyson repeatedly panicked in her mind as she continued to try and work her way through the security firewalls that the Alliance had created. The SIA built off the prototypes that she had stupidly left behind when she decided to betray the Alliance back on Woostri. She mumbled under her breath as she could feel Valery drawing closer. The woman didn't know when to quit or when to just let the Corellian do what she did best.

Her comm device flickered as it hit another firewall. Frustrated, Allyson shook the device as she tried not to use Mechu Deru. If she tried the Force again, Valery would have been able to zero in on her location even faster.

Instead of continuing to crash out, Allyson took a deep breath and exhaled. She was good at this - this was her job.

Valery's presence grew steadily stronger, a pressure in the Force that Allyson could no longer ignore. She tried, gods, she tried, to push her out of her mind, to bury the memories. If she didn't think about Valery, maybe Valery couldn't find her. But Allyson knew better. They knew each other too well, every pattern, every trick, every shadow of thought.

It was what made life so complicated now, standing on opposite sides. No matter how clever she was, how carefully she masked her steps, Valery always saw through her.

Fingers danced across the comm device fluidly as she continued to slice through the defenses, trying to find the information she had come for. The comm vibrated in her hand, letting her know it was running the code she had pushed through. Letting the device hang on the wires, she knew Valery had found her - for some reason, she wasn't attacking.

Raising an eyebrow, Allyson wondered if Valery really didn't know where she was. A devilish little grin curled on the Corellian's lips as she pressed lightly on the metal panel that kept her hidden.

Something came to mind: her trying to escape Valery. She could try to use the power that Valery had used in their fight on Woostri and in the prison. Her brow furrowed as she tried to think about how she could manipulate the Force around her to phase. Her hand pressed against the metal panel a few times as she imagined every fiber of her being unraveling to allow her to pass through.

Narrowing her eyes, she just had to go for it; if Allyson didn't try now, she would continue to be a sitting duck. Phase was simple enough; if Val could do it, she could, too.

She checked the device once more, and it still had time to work. Even if she lost it, the data would be easily accessible to her eyes. Then, the device would lock up once her biometric information was no longer used to unlock it. Allyson locked the device and smirked at the funny image she left on the lock screen.

A crudely drawn Valery Noble with a clown nose and poofy rainbow hair.

Now was the time.

Allyson mentally hyped herself up and imagined her body separating into billions of pieces to allow her to slip through the metal plating with ease. Pushing herself forward, Allyson felt the metal plating…

Then, she heard the metal plating falling and crashing to the ground and Allyson Locke tumbled out of the hole she had created to escape. Wires tangled in her legs, and she hung upside down and stared at Valery Noble, who had seemed to find the rat's nest.

"Well, it seems the issue is going to take a bit longer, IT is working on the issue." Crossing her arms, Allyson nodded, trying to play off the cover she had chosen.

Knowing it wasn't going to work, Allyson grabbed her saber and ignited the red blade to slice through the wiring that held her up. Allyson came tumbling down, landing on her feet and then moved to run.

Being this close to Valery didn't spell out a good time for Allyson.

 

[Drystan Creed]

OBJECTIVE III

Before he could complete another repetition, Drystan halted and straightened his posture. The flow of the planet's energy had allowed him to sense a disturbance. A loss of life.

Immediately, he reached for his coat—a dark affair, requiring clothing to match. Draping it over his shoulders like a cape, he made his way toward the source of the disturbance.

The response team was already on-site, investigating the scene. A death. One of the diplomats—what appeared to be an accident by all accounts. However, whether it was instinct, normalized paranoia, or the Force guiding him, Drystan found it suspicious.

He knew the work here was important to the Alliance. Could there be an undermining force seeking to see it all undone? With what he'd seen in his line of work, it wasn't out of the question.

Still, the incident would undoubtedly shake up the ongoing negotiations. That trio of diplomats had been making good progress—and now, an important limb had been crushed, impeding the brokering of peace.

The nagging feeling wouldn't go away, and he couldn't simply return to his regular duties. Slipping away from the scene, Drystan prowled through the base, making his way toward the sector where the discussions were taking place.

He could sense nothing out of place—no unique presences, nothing discernible through the Force amidst the constant comings and goings of personnel. But he kept his guard up, eyes sharp as he moved through the halls.

His pace was brisk and unimpeded. No need for cloaking or subterfuge—only purpose. A wellness check by all measures, to find those who now fell under his care.

Ellissanthia

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Endor
Tags: Corazona von Ascania Jackson Lesan Vera Noble

Reina hadn't realised how obvious her frustrations were through the roots. Looks like she hadn't exactly gotten to the root of her problems. Well, to be fair she knew exactly what the problem was. She was funnily enough, to rooted in her belief of the Force being something that should flow. It should move as easily as liquid did to fill whatever cracks it could. In her eyes, it shouldn't be something that slowly shifted like tectonic plates or small grains of sand falling down each other. It was something she needed to try and understand herself, but she knew it was next to impossible. Not because it was difficult per say but...because it felt unnatural to Reina.
​

You're welcome to join us, if you'd like.​

Her eyes snapped open wide at the sudden feeling that came through the vines, the message as she debated to herself for a moment. It was obviously from Corazona. Whilst Reina hadn't interacted with the Knight that much directly, the aura was at least somewhat familiar to her. It was kind. Gentle. One of the ones that always felt accepting. It was also one of the auras that Reina had always stayed away from, out of fears that she'd end up pushing it away. But...maybe she should break through those fears for once.

And so that's what she did. Pushing herself up from the ground and quickly making her way over towards the group of Corazona, Vera Noble and Jackson Lesan giving an awkward little wave. She didn't say anything. Not yet at least. She wanted to see what was going on first.​

 

[Kain Aldore]

Objective I: Fortification
Tags: Nos Voros Emery Lloren

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

“...Define not belong.”

Kain looked to the ground, his hands moving together like he was holding a melon but they were kinda shifting, His face, looked like he was trying to piece a puzzle together. then he shifted his arms to the left.

"Ok think. Bantha..." His hands moving to the right "in the senate rotunda. Weird marks on equipment, poorly spliced wires, I mean there was a radar dish misaligned, after I calibrated it. It feels like I'm being messed with to be honest."

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

"I've been building swoop bikes since I was six. I know the difference between sloppy work and foul play."

That seemed to land as Kain led his new companion around the base. He felt like an inspector, or a disgruntled mechanic complaining to a superior about their co-workers poor work that just created more for him to do. How Kain wished that was the case

Kain ended on the radar dish pointing out it's control system had to be hardwired to a data pad to get it to move, that was the thing that really landed it home for him. Then as Kain was looking up Nos Voros walked out into the forest. "Uhh..." His hand was aimed skywards and the Zeltron was walking away. "Alright sure... Lets go for a walk. I better not get eaten by some forest witch I swear to the force."

That last part he seemed to mumble under his breath. Just loud enough to get picked up.

Kain followed Nos the sounds of the forest echoed. He was trailing behind at a pace. Kain hated the place, always felt like something was crawling on his skin. That's when the voice called out. Kain stopped his hand curled. Lightsaber tugged beneath his jacket. Yet instead of a foe they saw Emery Lloren a Jedi

Another one...

Kain watched the young man as he sat there, the force swirled around him. Like the breeze you'd feel on the beach.
The guy had an air of mysticism too, yet he was probably too young to remember Kain. Especially when he'd woken up from a nice, comfy, Bacta induced Cryo nap only weeks ago.

“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.”

Kain watched as Nos sat across from the young man. Kain however blinked.
Once.
Twice.

Then he gestured back to the camp lips, parting like he had something to say. Then they closed and he simply blinked a third time.
"Okay, Guess we're doing this" He said with a snarky tone before kneeling against one of Endor's large tree's. One hand braced against his knee, the other pushing his hair back.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE IV

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Úlfs Reiði (Wolf's Fury)

TAG: Katherine Holt

The forest was quiet, save for the soft whisper of wind through towering trees and the distant rustle of nocturnal creatures returning to their dens. But within that silence, something stirred. A presence that was dark and heavy.

Gerwald Lechner stood alone in a clearing deep in Endor's southern woodlands, the massive trunks of ancient trees rising around him like cathedral pillars. Overhead, the moon's dense canopy swayed as if in breathless anticipation. This place had been chosen carefully far from Alliance patrols, nestled between mountain ridges and long-forgotten Ewok shrines.

Here, the Sith gathered.

They came in small squads and silent pairs, armor dark and jagged, eyes burning beneath masks and hoods. Each one drawn by the call of conquest, bound by oath to the Second Legion and the vision of the man who stood before them.

Gerwald's crimson cloak stirred with the breeze, the hood thrown back to reveal a grim countenance carved by war and shadow. The flickering light from the nearby signal pyre glinted off the red crystal set into the hilt at his hip, his lightsaber, worn but never idle.

The galaxy had shifted.

When the galactic sectors realigned and known hyperlanes twisted beyond recognition, entire regions of space were thrown into strategic chaos. Gerwald had not hesitated. While others recalibrated and reorganized, he moved. The Second Legion advanced through the cracks, exploiting the uncertainty with surgical precision. Planets once deemed secure had been pierced like flesh, their defenders outmaneuvered before they even understood the new rules.

And now… Endor.

The forest moon was more than just a staging ground. It was a keystone. A natural junction point feeding support lines to the Alliance's southern spine. With it, Lanteeb would fall. Varunda would weaken. Conglomerate Prime would be left to starve.

Gerwald turned to face the gathering crowd of Sith and soldiers, his voice low and steady, measured not manic. Not yet.

"The Alliance moves to defend," he began, the words rippling across the clearing like a blade drawn in quiet reverence. "Their scouts are in orbit. Their Jedi walk these woods. They have seen our shadow… but not the fire behind it."

He raised a gloved hand, calling forth a holomap projected by the obsidian totem beside him. Endor rotated slowly in the air, marked with the positions of hidden staging posts, raiding camps, and yet-to-be-triggered sabotage cells. His finger tapped across the their locations.

"We do not attack to disrupt," he growled. "We advance to dismember."

There was a low thrum of agreement from the gathered Sith. A few removed helmets, blood-slicked from prior raids on outlying settlements. Others merely watched, waiting for the signal.

Gerwald's gaze lingered on the trees around them. In time, Endor would burn. Not all of it, just enough to scatter the Alliance's focus, enough to lure the Jedi into disadvantage, enough to split the corridor and leave the southern systems bleeding.

"Send word to the other warbands," he said finally, quiet again. "Tonight we carve the sigil into the stars. No more secrets. No more waiting. The Second Legion moves at dawn."

Then he stepped away from the holomap, the forest shadows swallowing him again.


And the Sith began to prepare.


The Reaping had come to Endor.

 

[Nos Voros]

Nos sat forward slowly, elbows braced to his knees. He didn’t look at either of them—just the moss between his boots, the way the starlight spilled between the branches.

“There’s a nonzero chance the Chiss woman you brushed past, Kain... is the saboteur.”

A beat.

“She’s my ex-fiancée. She reappeared a month or so ago. Told me last night she’s pregnant.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“I met her ten years ago running mercenary jobs. One of them was an assassination attempt—on the woman I was guarding. She used me to get close. Got caught. Did her time. Escaped. Hunted me for years. Said she changed.”

He rubbed the ugly scar that marred the left side of his face – burned and shredded and poorly healed. Not as a gesture, just a habit.

“If she’s gone back to it... then she used me again. Used my clearance, my trust. Maybe even the pregnancy—”

His jaw locked a moment. A breath escaped. Quiet.

“Leverage.”

The word landed heavy. He hoped he was wrong. Just paranoid. The timing of everything – and stumbling into the Jedi Emery Lloren – only increased his doubt. It felt less like coincidence and more like Jedi mystical poodoo.

Kain Aldore | Emery Lloren​

 

[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)

________​

Emery shifted where he sat, feeling the moss dampen against his palm. His eyes lifted briefly to Nos, then Kain, then down again. The weight of Nos’s words felt heavy, like they filled the space between them and left no room for anything else. Emery wasn’t sure what was expected of him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all.

Still, he tried. His voice was quiet, but carried the faintest edge of frustration at the interruption. Not anger. Just... unease.

“You didn’t have to tell me that. I mean... I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it.”​

He glanced at Kain, exhaling softly through his nose.

“I came out here to listen. To think. Not to... solve something like that.”

His fingers curled into the moss at his side. He wanted to sound steady. Like he could handle this. But his words kept coming, and they felt too small.

“I don’t know what it means. I don’t know if it means anything. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. I’m not one of those Jedi who can look at the stars and tell you the answer.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing sideways at the trees as if the forest might offer him a way out.

“But... I don’t think sitting here tearing yourself up over what might be true helps either.”

Emery shifted his weight, pulling his legs in slightly.

“If you want to sit, fine. I don’t mind that. Just don’t expect me to have the answers you’re looking for.”

He fell quiet again. The forest hummed softly around them, and Emery stared at the dark between the branches, wishing the quiet would come back.

Nos Voros Kain Aldore

​

​

 

[Monaray Dod]

Annasari Kaela Verrin

Senator Dod had been unusually persistent in securing an appointment to the current Joint Committee on Defense and Intelligence, as it would allow him to gain an accurate understanding of the current Galactic Alliance-Sith Order conflict which seemed to fluctuate between periods of stagnation and rapid escalation across multiple sectors and planetary governments.

This instability posed a threat to the Trade Federation of Planets, which depended on reliable hyperspace routes for its extensive fleet of cargo freighters and their accompanying escort ships. However, they planned to recoup their losses by financing new initiatives through the Neimoidian Recovery Fund one of which was the reformation of the InterStellar Regulators, a highly organized mercenary group under the command of Tylos-Rix Warspite.

Though such thoughts were soon interrupted by the ghastly briefing from one of the other senators within the room though there name and actual importance slipped from the mind of the Neimoidian as they glanced over to one Senator Annasari of Jakku whose suggestions were sound and logical save for one key detail.

"A counter-offensive would be a fool's errand with the erection of the Emperor's Blackwall around their space. The moment our task force tries to enter through they will be obliterated without much chance of survival." Dod said with a subtly concealed expression, fully aware of the perils posed by the Blackwall and how it complicated any attempts to invade their territory. However, there were alternative routes to consider; otherwise, the Federation would find itself at a disadvantage.

"I believe our time is better spent in hunting down the Mors Mon Dreadnought, the capital ship of their entire offensive into Alliance Space. Should we manage to cripple it or drive it away for intensive repairs then the Empire's moral would collapse like a piece of paper and eventually reach a complete capitulation since it is so resource-heavy and straining on their economy." The Neimoidian offered a counter-suggestion to the other members of the Federal Assembly.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

The Forest Remembers.
ENDOR
FOREST

Objective I — fortification​

With intelligence pointing to Endor as the Sith Order's next target, the Galactic Alliance has begun defensive preparations. GADF personnel, Jedi, and local forces work to reinforce military infrastructure and secure key sites across the forest moon.

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim

[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]​

The war camp rose with the mist—half-camouflaged tents, sensor towers made of scavenged speeder parts, Ewok watchposts linked with motion alarms and primitive bells. At the center, a repurposed Lambda-class shuttle served as command and triage.Inside its shadowed perimeter, Gabriel hunched over a portable holotable, fingers dragging pulsing defense grids across terrain overlays. Six emplacements. Overlap fields of fire. Tripmines here. Bark-impalers for the tree lines.

Azrael smirked, arms crossed as he watched Ewoks haul detpacks and razor-wire coils under his loose direction. I taught one to build a tripline with thermal charges. He named it ‘Big Boom.’ Adorable little killer.

Gabriel snorted. We're going to regret arming these bears.

Azrael just shrugged. Only if we lose. Then it’s poetic justice.

They worked fast—turret emplacements disguised in old log piles, proximity mines behind vine curtains, smoke canisters repurposed from old speeder fuel cells. Defense without drawing enemy fire first. Just the Omega way.

Farther up the ridge, Sariel and Raphael moved in eerie synchronization. Spot. Mark. Adjust.

Drop tripod. Anchor. Load belt. Brace for recoil. Their sniper nest overlooked the western approach and southern glade, crisscrossing the Ewok village and the Lambda camp. Anything that moved within 200 meters could be tagged twice before it blinked.

We’ve got control, Sariel said as a matter of fact. Until they send shadows.

Raphael racked the breach of his heavy repeater. Let ‘em come. They made the mistake of letting us find out about it. We have shadows too… and spotlights.

With a fistbump, Sariel started on another emplacement while pointing Ewoks where to set up weapons of their own. Damn right.

Michael, Jeremiel, and Connel were advancing deeper into the woods, the Ewoks wanted to go, they were directed more to the “safer” zones, not out of disrespect but appreciation, ironically. Michael flanked wide with rifle at low-ready, Jeremiel scanned with a biosensor, and Connel… simply listened.

The Force twisted ahead. Not loud. Not ancient. Young.

Sensation? Michael asked quietly.

Fractured, Connel said. Like lights twisted to mirrors.

Jeremiel blinked at the scanner. Two signatures. Minimal camouflage. Elevated heartbeat and thermal readings, they’re not even trying to hide.

That means they are mine.

They moved forward into a burnt clearing—and found them, twins. Michael moved into a sniping position out of sight and Jeremiel flanked.

Two teens. No older than eighteen. Robes somewhere between imitation-Jedi and cultist rags. One wielded a jagged red blade. The other floated her weapon—razor-thin, unstable.
They snapped around as Connel approached. The boy sneered.

“You’re the Vanagor spawn. The one that hides in shadows. Our master said we’d find you.”

The girl smirked. “He said you’d either join us… or be used to prove ourselves.”

Connel didn’t ignite his saber. He barely moved. If he considered them a threat(which they clearly were not, they were sent out here as bait to test defenses clearly, he would have been insulted. You don’t even know what you’re using.

His voice was… quiet… solemn… direct. You’re swinging blades built to destroy the soul of the one holding it. Not just the one it strikes.

The boy spat. “We’re stronger than fear.”

No… You’re clearly terrified. You just haven't figured out of what yet. He stepped forward. The girl surged her blade toward him—And it stopped, centimeters from his chest. His hand outstretched, still not igniting his own weapon.

Lesson One, Connel murmured, hearing Caltin’s voice in his head: The sword is the last line, never the first.

With a subtle flick of the Force, he disarmed her—not violently, but with surgical pressure. The blade sputtered into the ground. Before the boy could move, Michael's rifle was aimed. You’re outclassed. Don’t try it, Michael warned.

The boy struck anyway—sloppy, panicked.

Connel met the strike with a blinding permafrost-blue blade—not with brute force, but a precise parry that dropped the boy to a knee and stripped the saber from his hand. Lesson Two, Connel said softly. Strength is not rage. It’s control.

The boy trembled. The girl was already on the ground, stunned by the sudden reversal. Jeremiel stepped forward and bound their hands. What do we do with them? he asked.

Connel’s answer was slow. We remind them what the dark never teaches—mercy.

Determined not to lose face, the boy spat while the girl yelled out. “Mercy?! More like “Jedi Weakness”! Too cowardly to strike us down!”

In a straight up BLUR Connel spun, pulled his shortsaber and his regular saber and went to strike. The point of view of everyone though (even the twins) were that one point he was standing, back to them, the next, she had a violet blade close enough to her throat she could feel the energy crackling against her skin. He had a permafrost blade millimeters from his face. There was no anger, aggression or even emotion emitting from the Shadow. Lesson Three, His voice as calm and quiet as before. Mercy is not weakness, it is your last chance.

By the time they returned to camp, the defenses were primed. Ewoks stood ready beside armed emplacements. Azrael looked up from his work and saw the captives. You brought them?

Alive, Connel replied.

Gabriel raised a brow not that anyone could see it under his mask. So they can talk?

So they can learn, Connel said. Or become bait. Either way… their master will come looking.

The forest was ready.


The forest had gone still.

Not dead, not silent. But still.
The kind of stillness where everything was listening.

The moonlight filtered through the canopy, dappled over the old Lambda shuttle, the defensive ring, the sleeping Ewok sentries. In the upper watchpost—just two weathered logs and a viewport of tensioned transparisteel—Connel Vanagor and Bren “Michael” Alazar sat side by side in the quiet hum of the night shift.

Below, the prisoners were sedated. Patrols rotated in staggered intervals. Above them, stars flickered like distant wars.

Michael shifted his rifle onto his lap. Glanced over. I know they were just kids, he said. But I was still kind of hoping you’d deck them.

Connel didn’t smile, but something in his posture softened. I was too.

Michael chuckled. So… restraint is that hard, huh?

It’s not hard, Connel said, gaze fixed on the tree line. It’s heavy.

Then there was silence, a pause. Then:

My father used to say the saber is your shadow. If it moves before you do, you’re already losing.

Michael nodded slowly. He’s a giant. Like… a myth. People still say his name like it’s a title.

He hates that.

Because he is that. Michael leaned forward, elbows on knees. Even when I was a kid, I didn’t want to be just a soldier. I wanted to be something more. Like him. Like you.

Connel turned, mildly surprised.

I thought you were doing this because of your father.

Michael’s jaw tightened. I was. At first. After he died… I needed something. Some cause. Some fire. He glanced away. Then I met you, it wasn’t about idolatry anymore. It was about… standing with someone who carries it too.

Grief? Connel asked.

Michael shook his head. Weight. Legacy. Expectation. He looked over. How do you carry his?

A long moment.

Connel finally answered:

I don’t. Not all of it. Just the part that matters.

Michael waited.

Caltin Vanagor is a mountain, Connel said quietly. People expect me to be made of stone too. But I’m not. I’m made of glass and rage and regret. I just know how to shape it.

And the rest?

I remember what he never forgot, Connel whispered. People are worth saving. Even when they’re broken. Even when it hurts to try.

The woods shifted again. Somewhere, a creature cried in the distance.

I couldn’t save the girl, Michael said after a while. The younger one. From the dark. She looked at me like… she wanted me to kill her.

She still might, Connel said. But not tonight.

Michael turned to look at him. You think we can change them?

We can try. That’s the difference between us and them. He paused. That’s the difference between us… and who I used to be.

Michael blinked. Wait—what?

Another night, Connel said, standing. We’re up for another hour. If you’ll check the motion net. I’ll recalibrate the spectral field.

Michael stood beside him, rifle slung again. You ever… wish you weren’t carrying any of it?

Connel stared out into the dark—where the trees met the stars.

Every day.

Then why keep going?

Connel finally looked over his shoulder.

Because you are.

TAGS • ARE • OPEN • TO • ALL ​