Junction Spilled Bacta | SO & HR & SC Junction of Janara III, Teyr, Empty Hex

[Aspect of Resolve]

​

Thyferra burns.​

​

The war machines and armies of the Sith Order have ravaged the world’s surface and left husks of debris in orbit in the wake of the battle for the planet, with the valiant defenders of the High Republic forced on the backfoot as they now move to leave the ruined world behind.​

​

Yet their escape will not be so seamless nor uncontested. The orbital conflict still rages, though the Republic fleets have largely begun adopting defensive perimeters to guard evacuation zones and hyperspace routes out of the system rather than actually contest control over Thyferra. On the ground the situation is even worse, with plagues and Sith forces tearing across the burned fields and bombed ruins of the world in a vicious hunt for their foes.​

​

For the Sith Order, no quarter is to be given, all High Republic forces on the world are to be found and eliminated with only select ranks and individuals authorized for capture and interrogation. Among them being Jedi and any others who may know of the nature of the Force Suppression field which had affected the planet. Whatever remains of the Bacta production assets are to be seized and guarded from further destruction or sabotage as well.​

​

For the High Republic, retreat is now the only order remaining. The forces in orbit will hold for as long as possible over the evacuation sites but these are limited and prone to shrinking should the situation change, making escape a difficult prospect. The sites are secure for the moment however as Sith forces move in this will not remain the case for long. Get to the evacuation sites and save all that you can.​

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Whether it be in the scorched and cratered Alazhi paddy fields or the crumbling and destroyed ruins of industry and urban centers, the Sith chase the Republic’s forces and citizens. Battle lines are breaking down in favor of smaller scale skirmishes as soldiers on both sides rush for the evacuation zones and Sith and Jedi move to halt one another in their tracks.​

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The evacuation sites for the High Republic forces and citizenry must be held against an onslaught of Sith forces both on the ground and from above as they move across the battered surface of Thyferra. Jedi and Republic soldiers must hold the line whilst their comrades, civilians, and what assets can be scavenged evacuate the planet. Sith and their armies are to overwhelm and destroy these sites, denying any and all avenues of escape.​

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In the chaos of the battle turning into a rout there are various avenues of approach beyond just the retreat and pursuit. The remaining Bacta production assets, the Alazhi fields and the refineries as well as the Kavam stockpiles, are few yet now more vital than ever. The orbital conflict still rages with any tip in the balance sure to ripple through the final hours of the battle. There are still pieces yet to fall into place even with the victors decided.​

​

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

TREXTAN

Choli Vyn

Trextan slammed the last crate of sealed bacta canisters against the cargo webbing and yanked the strap tight. The smell of scorched alazhi and burning plastoid still clung to his jacket. Outside the Sunfire’s open ramp, Thyferra’s sky was the colour of rust and fire.

They had thought this patch of ruined refinery was quiet enough. It was not.

Distant blaster fire cracked across the fields again, closer than it had been five minutes ago. A Sith dropship slid low over the horizon, searchlights cutting through the smoke. Trextan glanced at Choli as she secured the last fastener, then at the open hangar doors of the Sunfire.

"That is close enough," he said. "We are done here."

He stepped back from the cargo and wiped a smear of dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand. The ship’s engines were not ready to go. They had been cautious on one of their first runs, but they hadn't expected the sith incursion. Trextan had thought they could stay low and wait for the battle to end, but that didn't seem to be true.

"Now or never," Trextan added, meeting her eyes. The troop transport ship landed just out of sight.

"Get the ship ready to go and I'll watch out," he said. He didn't stretch out with his senses to see if the Sith troops heading right for them; he was hesitant to draw any attention to them. He had been untrained during the Alliance and Sith wars, but he had been ones of the most powerful, raw talents with the Force.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Kainate Axioms swam like sharks through the orbital debris, casting aside the remnants of Republic destroyers and evacuation barges with frightening ease. Even when the tide turned in favor of the Empire, the Kainate never relented in their assault. Glaivewings danced and harassed fleeing ships, cutting off escape routes and engulfing the enemy through sheer numerical superiority. Thyferra had validated the Kainate strategy, emboldening them, and now they pressed to tighten their jaws around the Republic's neck.

Behind the advancing Kainate line, a new ship had arrived. The Yaldabaoth, flagship of the Eternal Father, rarely seen beyond the dockyards of the Malsheem. Its sleek, otherworldly design cut a terrifying silhouette as it stalked through the wreckage. Not much larger than the Axioms which preceded it, the Yaldabaoth was nonetheless more powerful and dangerous than its automated counterparts. Crewed entirely by the most suicidally loyal servants of the Eternal Father, it was just as much of a shrine as it was a warship, and the Dark Side radiated from it like a thermal pulse from a supernova.

Darth Carnifex watched His servants run down the Republic, butchering them like dogs whenever they caught up to them. Seated upon a throne of jagged obsidian, His molten eyes absorbed the growing slaughter with cruel indifference. More meat piled upon the pyre, a sight He'd seen countless times before. Such viciousness had lost its edge to Him, and what might have been frighteningly violent to a lesser creature was as mundane as breathing to the Eternal Father.

Standing next to Him was one of His Avulsuna Oraculars, her bright pink hair a stark contrast to the pitiless blacks and deep reds of the command deck. He absently caressed the diminutive oracle's head with one hand, an act of physical intimacy that was highly relished by the Dark Lord's most faithful. To experience any part of His divinity was their life's ambition, and to receive it so casually was akin to being graced by the greatest of miracles. Undoubtedly, others looked upon the oracle with ferocious envy in their hearts, jealously tempered by devotion.

He whispered, a husky rasp so low that only the oracle at His side could hear. "What do your eyes see, my little seer?"

Chasianna ​

 

[Petra Noll]

WRENCH

ROGUE SQUADRON // FLIGHT OPERATIONS

PETRA NOLL

LIEUTENANT // ROGUE EIGHT // BB-7K "PATCH"

♫ REBEL BRIEFING - JOHN WILLIAMS

LOCATION: BATTLESPACE TIME: THEN

A sense of vertigo overwhelmed Petra as the rescue ship swooped around her. A moment later, she felt herself gripped by some invisible pressure as the rescue tractor beam seized her and Patch. A bizarre sense of gravity -- an artificial this way down -- sensation replaced the vertigo and remined until she was pulled through the airlock. A few rescue officers helped her out of her ejector seat and removed her oxygen mask when the airlock had cycled.

Patch landed unceremoniously on the deck.

"Rooks Five and Twelve?" Petra asked the technicians as soon as her mask was removed.

"They're fine," the technician assured her. "They're In the lounge. Take a left out the airlock and it's the second door on the right."

Petra thanked the technicians, jerked her head at Patch, and the pair of thems set out for the lounge. Five and Twelve were gathered around the viewport, watching the fleet action unfolding there. Petra strolled across the lounge. "How are we looking, Rooks?"

"It's not good," Twelve said. "The refugees are getting picked off."

Petra clicked the window controls to zoom in and surveyed the situation. "Don't like that," she muttered. "Five, Twelve, you fit to fly again? Assuming we can get starfighters?"

"Fit to fly," Five agreed. Twelve concurred. Five went on: "But It looks like the Grace is preparing to withdraw with our backup fighters."

Petra picked up the comlink set into the bulkhead. "This is Lt. Noll, requesting priority transport to the Grace. Request that they delay withdrawal until we can retrieve our spare fighters. We'll deploy to provide cover to evacuation routes." The bridge agreed, and Petra sighed. "Thank you. Please inform the deck crew of our plans and have fresh fighters prepared. Tell the rest of the Rooks to prepare the redeploy. Hit the head, we won't have time when we get there."

FLIGHT RECORD // ACTIVE

INTERACTING WITH

NOBODY

 

[Helix]

Helix's feet dangled as he sat precariously on the roof of Thyferra's gubernatorial palace.

It was a striking view from this high up. As far as the eye could see, Cyber-zombies carpeted the streets by their millions. Young, old, fit, infirm, it had hardly mattered. They surged past in a seemingly endless river of groaning flesh, pouring into a similarly endless line of massive dropships. The stream had gone on for hours now, and showed no signs of abating anytime soon.

Given the sheer quantity of infected, it was deemed that they should be moved elsewhere, on to other warzones. As of today, he had one of the largest infantry fighting forces in the entire galaxy.

Imitating a sigh, the iridescent-skinned creature stood up. "Alright, give me the feed. We've done our work, and now it's time for a little fun."

A blank-eyed Blightspawn next to him handed over a bundle of wires, torn with unsteady hands from the planetary broadcast system in the governor's office.

Helix took them carefully. Portions of his surface melted and flowed over the sparking ends, fusing the two together. A similar physical taint seemed to race up the rest of the wires, spreading down them with lightning speed and propagating itself across everything attached thereto. He tested his new connection warily. "Ahem, testing, testing." Good. This technology was now his technology, a warped and twisted thing of otherworldly metals. The colony accessed one of the countless absorbed personalities within his consciousness, assuming something of the demeanor of a late-night radio host.

These words thrummed through every holodisplay, radio, personal device, and any other form of electronic media on the planet. Those hoping for news of missing loved ones or updates on the military situation would be sorely disappointed; the broadcast was listed as top government priority.

"Hello again, Thyferra. Did you miss me? I hope so. It's been a while since my last little message. Worry not, because Radio Free Helix is here to stay."

"I'm sure many of you are wondering what exactly has happened. Plenty of buzz over the comms, lots of contradictory tabloid gab going both ways, lots of closed-mouthed soldiers not at liberty to give you the facts. Well, your Uncle Helix is here to clear up any confusion, keep you abreast of developments on the ground, and provide the kind of cutting-edge, high-integrity journalism you'd expect from a government institution."

"My little eyes and ears are all over this fresh-baked warzone now, and I see e̳̯͚̥̻ͧ̋̾̌͂̂v̗̦͙̤͉̺̪e̷̶͕̮̹̟̭͎̽̃ͅṛ̨͙̞̖͎͚y̵͖̣̳̝ͣ̐̑͗́͊t̝̯̗̫̺͓͛͆̓ͦ̏ͫ̔h̨̧̭̣͉͉̘͕̺͌̉ͤi̶̧͇̝̳̯͚ͪ̋n̖̖̥̞͕̯͍̍̃̇g̴͍̯͚̲̰̜͎̿̃͂͆ͨ̏. Anytime something newsworthy happens, I'll know, and so will you. So let's get right to it, shall we?"

"For the Sith, and especially for my own people on the ground, we've won. The fleets in orbit have bracketed this planet in its entirety, and nobody is entering or leaving without their say-so. What does that mean?" A nasty chuckle, filled with schoolboy malice. "I'm so glad you asked. It means this little ball of mud is now one big playground. I'd encourage you to really cut loose in your after-work festivities, whatever those might entail. I won't judge."

"After all, I've probably done worse. Just look what I did here. I threw this little Blight together over the weekend a year ago, and it's snuffed out a good eight-figure number of worthless lives so far. The night's still young, too. Just imagine what it might look like if I were angry."

"In particular, there are now a large number of personal belongings that find themselves suddenly ownerless. I don't think anyone would mind if these were to go missing. After all, they've got bigger problems than a few family heirlooms or fancy groundcars. My underlings have already secured many of these, so first come, first served."

"For the other guys, well, let's just say your window to hide or surrender is closing fast. If you think things are ugly now, just wait til nightfall. Of course, there's always the quick and easy way out that I suggested before. Trust me, that solution is a lot kinder than what some of the rest have in store."

"If you're too proud or too unwise to do that, or if you're lucky enough to be on the other team, then stay tuned. There will be plenty of updates to come, and maybe even a special guest or two."

"For the Sith, if you've got anything you'd like to say to the population, I now have complete override control of everything down to the popular music stations. Stop on by, and let the people of Thyferra know what you think. I'm sure they'll be fascinated to hear your enlightened opinions."

"For the rest of you, who might try to put a damper on my little broadcast, I have a few unwilling visitors. If anyone I don't like steps within a mile of this location, I make a few more fresh cyber-zombies. If nobody does, they go home. Maybe. Like I said, the night's still young."

For those seeing the broadcast on a viewscreen, the picture suddenly swung round to display a half-dozen bound and gagged citizens, each guarded by a transformed infected.

"And, if you're the dark-crusader type who won't let a few innocent lives stand between you and some well-deserved justice, all the better. You can die along with them, and this planet at large." The monster's hitherto jocular tone took a sudden and jarring swing into deadly seriousness. "Though, if you're really that dark... there's always room for more. Your determined resistance has created a few job openings, after all." Another ugly, grinding sound of mirth.

"Radio Free Helix signing off for now, but keep those devices on. There will be plenty of other exciting updates to come."

 

[Verity Stuyveris]

LOCATION

HRNS GRACE OF THEED

MEDICAL BAY

TIME • DATE

♫ TRAGEDY TOMORROW, COMEDY TONIGHT

x

x

If Verity Stuyveris lived to write her memoir, she was certain this would have been one of the more hilarious moments. Oh, sure, she could verbally eviscerate Aurelian Veruna until his eyelids twitched and that was fun for all involved -- well, maybe not the King -- but this? To have lunged at, attempted to tackle, and jammed deadly poison into what she later learned was one of the most notorious Sith villains in modern history, only to have her heroic moment be interrupted -- not by the Sith dropkicking her through the front viewport, though she surely could have, but by a friendly-fire incident involving a blasted-off blast door swung by an enormous Jedi?

That was comedy.

Granted, the door hadn't hit her as hard as it might, but the combination of being summarily thrust at it by the Sith had connected. Verity had been helpfully scraped off the Bridge floor by a team of medical responders and taken to the medbay to be checked out. She sat on a cot, trying not to notice the glare, the noise, and the two medics who were staring at her and prodding at her, her jacket folded beside her and her blouse unfastened and untucked to allow medical personnel access to the livid bruising that was starting to spread across her side.

Every few seconds, a scanner passed over her ribs and gave an annoying, tattling chirp. Another medic had taken possession of her right arm and was slowly rotating her shoulder through its range of motion despite Verity's repeated and insistent assurances that it was perfectly serviceable and would probably remain so if everyone would stop touching it.

Her comlink was jammed between her left shoulder and her ear.

"No, Luc, don't wait for the Defense Committee. Get me the casualty figures we have now and mark them as preliminary. Fleet losses, ground losses, civilian casualties -- if anyone has them -- and particularly infrastructure and bacta production capacity. If we were smart we would be dismantling it on the way out the door, but you'll be surprised to know that I am not being consulted on military --"

A medic pressed two fingers beneath her ribs, and Verity broke off with a seething gasp. "That hurts," she informed the medic bluntly. "Hasn't medical science progressed beyond the need to perform diagnosis by battery?"

"Breathe in, please," the Medic said, a faint smirk on his lips.

As she did, Luc commiserated on her not instantly being elevated to the General Staff, then when she didn't answer said, "Is this a bad time?"

"The only kind we're going to have for awhile," Verity said after unclenching her teeth.

"I mean, should I call back?"

"No. Where were we? Ah -- casualties. The Sith are blissfully untethered from reality so they will begin propagandizing soon, if they haven't already. We need to be prepared to dispute and dispel where we can. The Chancellor will need numbers she can trust. I don't want a single thing we'll need to walk back tomorrow morning. If we don't know, that's the answer."

"Two nondisplaced rib fractures," the medic noted to his assistant.

Verity glanced at him. "We simply haven't got time for that," she informed him coolly.

He ignored her. "Significant soft-tissue trauma along the posterior thorax -- possible strain of the left -- "

"Senator?" Luc called from the comlink. "Did I lose you?"

Verity turned her head. "The Chancellor has right of first refusal on any military or war-prosecution statements. Please coordinate with her office -- I'm not looking for permission, Luc, but I want to make sure that there is at least one person in her corner who won't be trying to hang this around her neck -- on any public statements. Encourage our friends in the Senate to observe the same protocol. And Luc?" She waited a moment, lifting her left hand to the bridge of her nose to pinch lightly. "Quietly -- I mean quietly -- put in a preservation order for the data from the Grace. Bridge recordings, command logs, communications, artifact telemetry, internal security feeds, medical records related to exposure to the artifact. Do it right now."

"On it," Varencourt said, and Verity could hear tip-tap-typing on his keyboard faintly over the line. "But why?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "I can't talk about it here. It's, ah... related to... you know. The scaffold."

There was a brief pause. "Understood. Preservation order filed." Before she could say more, the comlink was pulled away from her ear. She looked around to see the doctor now holding it.

"Senator, you need to lie down," the doctor said, in the tone of someone who had had to repeat himself a few times.

"I'm sitting, isn't that enough?" The doctor merely stared at her, head tilting to one side. Verity gave a burdened sigh, immediately regretted it due to the stabbing pain in her side, and then swung her legs onto the cot and laid down. "I'll have that back now, please."

"What else?" Varencourt asked.

"I assume the press is collectively lighting its hair on fire."

"Quite."

"Coordinate with the Chancellor's office," Verity told him. "I don't want to speak out of turn, and I'm not eager for it, but tell them I'm ready to do whatever she needs. Or I will be if these doctors ever let me out of this bed. Ouch!" Verity glared at the doctor, who had just pressed something painful in her hip.

"Senator, this will go a lot faster if you put the comlink down for a few minutes."

"Mother of pearl," Verity sighed. "Luc, I've got to go. I -- wait -- one more thing. I need to speak with the Houses on Druckenwell as soon as possible. Reach out to my father's office, he'll get the rest started. Tell them I'm, for the moment, alive, mobile, and damned irritated."

"Alive, mobile, and irritating, got it," Varencourt muttered, as if writing down her notes. She gave a humorless laugh.

"And find out if any Druckenwell personnel were lost here. Military or diplomatic or civilian or commercial. Anyone. Get me their names, next of kin. Addresses. I'll have to write. Now -- I've really got to go. I'll call you when this -- this medical theater is finished."

x

x

CC

Aurelian Veruna • Taeli Raaf • Dominique Vexx • Vornak

 

[Akhenaton]

​

The battle was lost. High Republic forces had begun to break. Battle lines were forced to retreat under relentless Sith pressure. Somewhere between the fire and smoke, Akhenaton moved. The planet was lost, but if the right choices were made in the closing hours of the battle, all would not be lost. Bacta was not a plant to be harvested; it wasn't that easy. No, it was a biologically and chemically produced medical medium. Alazhi, kavam, and ambori fluid were all part of the production process. Thyferra was the planet where the environmental conditions made production the most efficient.

There was a laboratory at one of the main factories. Its doors suddenly opened with a hiss.

The chrome-armored warrior stepped through the security lock, bathed in the violet light of his lightsaber. Four Sith Legionnaires stood guard. They did not have time to sound an alarm or shout a warning. Akhenaton raised his hand and struck the nearest Legionnaire with the Force, sending him crashing backward into a workstation.

Blaster fire erupted.

The Dark Jedi deflected the first bolt back toward its shooter. The bolt caught the Legionnaire in the throat, killing him instantly. Akhenaton turned his wrist to deflect another shot as he closed in on the next soldier. A wide horizontal sweep cut the man in half at the waist, ending him where he stood. The third Legionnaire outright ran.

He was too slow.

The violet blade swept across his chest, and he collapsed to the floor. The last Legionnaire charged Akhenaton, his blaster rifle raised to fell the Dark Jedi with a point-blank shot. Akhenaton's free hand caught the barrel and forced it upward. The blaster bolt struck the ceiling in a shower of sparks. With a sharp twist, the Dark Jedi tore the weapon from the man's hands. The violet lightsaber was driven through the man's chest.

He did not have time to reflect. Quickly, he turned to the desks and rifled through them until he found a blank datacard. He inserted the card into a terminal, followed by a dataspike, and began the upload. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard: THYFERRA BIOCHEMICAL PRODUCTION ARCHIVE — ALZ/KVM/BAC MASTER. First, the actual bacta formula and quality-control data. Industrial production schematics followed. Then came all the important failure records: processes that had not worked, data that could save valuable time in the reformulation of bacta. Processing specifications came next. Then he switched over to the archives for the kavam cultures and alazhi cultivation: strain records, genome records, seed-stock quality, ideal harvesting conditions, incubation requirements, and storage procedures.

When the upload was complete, he pulled the datacard from the terminal and stuffed it behind the chest plate of his armor. Ironically, he still needed physical samples, having recently destroyed several that had been in the possession of the Sith. There was no time to dwell on that contradiction. Collect the samples and get out.

​

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Bridge - Yaldabaoth
Tag: Darth Carnifex

God had called Chasianna to His service. The summons came as a surprise, having reached her only thirty minutes prior. IThe seer’s first reaction had been one of disbelief, swiftly followed by shock when she felt the distinct metaphysical auras of a pair of scarlet-robed Crownguard who had arrived to escort her to the bridge of the Yaldabaoth. She had immediately been drawn away from her normal responsibilities, with barely enough time for her to say a minor prayer of purification before she was brought before the Eternal Father. Once the seer had arrived at the bridge, she bowed, His towering figure looming over her as her bright pink hair gathered on the deck.

And even after Chasianna rose to her feet, the Father’s great shadow was still cast over her insignificant form.

However, the sudden, unexpected intimacy of His touch was a greater sensation still. Her eyes fluttered as the Eternal Father’s palm caressed her skull. It was so large compared to her pocket-sized frame that He could have gripped her head and held her body aloft with that singular hand, like a doll suspended by a single point.

Fear rippled through her skin, pale features trembling as her overly large eyes shot wide open. And yet, Chasianna felt—no, saw—the jealousy of the other faithful on the bridge with eyes that perceived beyond the mere physical. Their envy delivered a rush of pride, a wicked, face-wide smile tugging at her lips as she reveled in receiving the greatest of all possible miracles.

But Chasianna knew that she had not been brought here merely to indulge in the divine love of the Father.

He whispered, a husky rasp so low that only the oracle at His side could hear. "What do your eyes see, my little seer?"

Chasianna drew her ritual knife, and with practiced ease, she sliced open her left wrist. Shimmering crimson blood spilled onto the nearby platform, pooling like a liquid garnet beneath her trembling hand. She drew upon the pain to focus her vision, her brow furrowing as she stared into the pooling essence. The blood became a mirror before her sight, and the world around her fell away, dissolving into a void of visions and whispers.

“The Republic’s evacuation sites are holding. They seek desperately to deny the reality of their own defeat,” Chasianna began, her blood still dripping onto the platform. Glossolaic undertones nearly bled into her words, but the seer quickly forced them back into Common Kainate Dialect, plush lips pursing tightly as she entered a deep, consuming trance.

Chasianna's cyan eyes grew distant then, the vertical slits of her pupils dilating as she sank into the vision. Her magenta hair began to float, her elongated ears twitching as if catching whispers from another realm.

"Some will escape, but most will perish. However, the defenders at the evacuation sites on the northern continent are poised to make the greatest stand. They seek to buy time for others to escape, but their efforts can still be collapsed.”

Her gaze drifted, unfocusing for a moment as she parsed another thread. Delicate fingers twitched, tracing patterns in the pooling blood.

“A window may open where our pressure forces the Republic to commit their remaining reserves to cover the final evacuation waves. If we continue to strike decisively, we can cripple their ability to withdraw in force. But if we hesitate or break harmony, the window may close, and they will scatter beyond our reach.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Oracular Veil
  
  • Miscellaneous Equipment
    
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Underlay - Nanotech Version: Inactive
• Qazûr-Pattern Soulpistol Mk. I
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Standard Blaster Power Cell (6)
    • Tibanna Gas Cartridge (6)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Avulsuna Ritual Knife
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (4)
• Supernal Infusion

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Thyferra

Equipment:
Vanguard Robes | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Lorn's boots carved two uneven trails through the ash behind them. Ace grunted as he hauled the unconscious Jedi another few meters, Lorn's arm hooked across his shoulders while his prosthetic kept a crushing grip around his waist. Every step sent something sharp through Ace's ribs. His nose had stopped bleeding somewhere along the way, though dried blood still coated his upper lip and breathing through it remained a miserable fucking experience.

He didn't know where Judah had gone which bothered him greatly. One moment he'd been there, still fighting against Srina's restraints. Then everything had become blood, screaming and Mercy. By the time it ended, Mercy had taken Srina and disappeared, Judah was nowhere to be found, and Lorn hadn't moved since Ace dragged him from the refinery.

Now they were retreating. Not regrouping or repositioning... they were retreating. Another transmission crackled through his commlink relaying that an evacuation zone had fallen. Republic forces were establishing another defensive perimeter further east. Remaining personnel were instructed to withdraw immediately.

Ace stared across the burning horizon. They'd failed. The thought had been gnawing at him since leaving the refinery. They'd known the Sith were coming. Ghorman had given them warning. They'd known what Thyferra meant.

And they still fucking failed.

Bacta production would collapse. Whatever survived would become more expensive. Hospitals would ration supplies. Rich worlds would buy what they needed while poorer ones...

Lorn suddenly slipped.

"E chu ta."

Ace caught him before he hit the ground, nearly going down with him. Pain exploded through his chest as he dragged Lorn upright again. For several seconds, Ace simply stood there breathing. Then he looked at Lorn, he was still breathing, and that was enough.

One thing at a time. Get Lorn out. Ace adjusted his grip and started forward again and made it probablyfifty meters before hearing someone scream. His eyes closed. Of course.

Ace carefully lowered Lorn against the burned-out husk of a transport before turning toward the sound. A Republic soldier was pinned beneath a collapsed section of durasteel nearby, another desperately trying to pull them free.

Ace looked toward the distant evacuation route, then back at Lorn, and limped over to collapsed section. Between his prosthetic and the Force, the wreckage lifted enough for the other soldier to drag their comrade free. Ace released it with a crash.

"Evacuation site's east."

The soldier nodded breathlessly. "What about him?"

Ace glanced back toward Lorn.

"I've got him."

Minutes later Ace was on the move again, Lorn's weight dragging against him. The two soldiers followed. Then they found three refinery workers sheltering beneath a collapsed pipeline. Then a wounded Vratix who couldn't walk. Ace stopped every time.

By the time the evacuation beacon appeared faintly through the smoke, there were more footsteps behind him than when he'd started. Ace didn't look back to count them, he just tightened his grip around Lorn and kept walking.

Lorn Reingard
CC: Judah Lesan | Srina Talon | Mercy​

 

[Kitt Solo]

Kitt's comm crackled through to Acier Moonbound 's. She tracked Lorn Reingard 's signature in the force. She'd sealed that bond a long time ago. Back when she'd first found him. Back when things had been a lot different. A lot darker than they were now.

Though, looking out the viewport one could argue...

She sighed, talking to Brakka. "Swoop in toward that beacon. They'll be there. Move anything you can. Unbolt anything not bolted in and leave it. We need room for survivors and we're going to fit as many as we can on this ship." The young Neti under her care nodded. Wooden limbs creaking. Sounds like a sorrowful wooden-wind chime echoing in the cockpit.

"We'll get through this. We always do."

"Acier. It's Kitt. Coming in for a landing. Lorn with you?" Hands flew over the controls with ease of someone who'd grown up a Corellian. Landing gear extended through the smoke and haze, the ship setting down gently on the ground as she flipped the switch for the ramp to lower.

CC: Judah Lesan Srina Talon Mercy

 

[Aiden Porte]

Objective: The Long March
Tags: Maybe Kuhbee
​

Aiden leaned back against a crate. A healing hand was placed on his upper shoulder while a needle pierced his arm. It was a temporary makeshift camp for the Republic forces that were falling back. Many were still on the retreat, trying to patch themselves up enough to get to the transports and leave Thyferra. This place was now lost. The healing hand placed on his shoulder brought much comfort to him, yet it wasn't fully done. It was a patch, he needed rest and proper healing. He would find none of that at this moment.

Looking at the reports, the Sith were on the offensive, and the Jedi were on the retreat. Some were still pinned down. Aiden reached for his lightsaber that lay on the crate next to him. He wasn't expecting one of his Everlight members to place a hand on it as well.

"Aiden, you can't go back out there, not like this."

Aiden gave a small tug, pulling it away from him. "Don't worry. I'm not half dead anymore, only a quarter." Aiden smirked, although he grimaced slightly, breathing through the pain. Once he got moving, with the aid of the Force, he would be able to do what he needed. He couldn't exert himself for too long, however. The battle had taken a lot out of him.

But he had enough for another push back. Not to strike back, but to give those scrambling for the transports a clear way.

"You're as stubborn as your father was."

Aiden smirked through gritted teeth, slight pain coursing through him as he felt the pain relievers finally settling in. "That's why you guys still followed him, right?" Aiden raised the datapad he was offered, bringing up the map viewpoints.

"We've got checkpoints Alpha and Charlie left. There are consistent reports of fighting still going on there. We get there, provide cover, and get them out, no questions."

​

 

[Meliant]

Attn: Closed

The Night Legion had them surrounded. This was some mountain valley tucked away in the north-eastern quadrant of the planet, and the suckers bottled up in it were some kind of combat engineer battalion. Nobody remarkable. But Meliant didn't go in for the kill, because Meliant wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing. He sent them a little message and said, "let's negotiate here."​

​

Well, they ignored that and tried to break out a few times. It didn't go well for them. Back into the valley they were beaten, corpses and abandoned equipment left in the fighting retreat. Meliant offered them a sit-down again, and this time the major replied and said something along the lines of, "we're going to fight you to the death, you gold-plated jackass." Well. Okay then.​

​

Meliant waited a little bit after that, and then on-schedule there was a little skirmish down in that valley. Small arms fire, none of it from the Night Legion. It got quiet again. Then, Meliant offered terms again, and - third time being the charm - someone who was pointedly not the major or any of his staff officers said, yes, let's have a gentle discussion.​

So that was who Meliant got to sit down with at a little forested spot in no-man's land.​

​

=====​

​

The Emperor of Coruscant, Hasuras Na-Amoun, was seated on his throne. Yes, he brought it with him, because it had been uprooted during the battle of Coruscant and was therefore easy to transport. He had worked hard for the thing, so why should he sit anywhere else if he can help it?​

​

Across from him was a haggard mirialan man in a dirty military jumpsuit with bloodshot eyes and a patchy beard. Not the Republic's finest. The finest were dead.

Meliant reclined easily in his twisted, ugly throne. His sword was laid aslant across his lap, not that this needed remarking upon. "Bad day for you guys, huh?"​

​

The fellow leaned to one side and spat into the dirt. There was blood in the mucus. A charmer. He'd fit right in.​

​

"Tell me your name."​

​

"Tarawa."​

​

"Oh, no rank?"​

​

He shrugged, "Don't think it much matters now."​

​

Perfect. Tarawa was perfect. Meliant had often suspected if you put the wheat under enormous pressure, it would frag the chaff itself. And he liked collecting wheat - especially from some other guy's field.​

​

"We all heard the reports. The Sith are killing everybody. No quarter, they said. But you're offering terms. Is this a trick or not?"​

​

"No trick. That's the Sith Order spewing their usual fuckery. It's nothing to me, since I'm with the Sith Covenant. We're different, you know."​

​

There was a sort of blank balefulness in Tarawa's eyes that implied he did not appreciate the distinction. Go figure.​

​

"Whatever. Who cares? Listen," Meliant made a raspy little wheeze and sat up, leaning forward. "Listen. I want this shitty little valley and all the bacta-producing garbage in it. I could send my guys in and kill you all, but they're crazy, and they'll probably break the things I actually want. So you and your guys are going to surrender and become my guys. And you're going to run this shitty little valley for me and send me all the bacta I want. Are you following?"​

​

Tarawa had a dark and distant expression. "The men down there have families. They want to go home."​

​

"Think real hard about that."​

​

Well, Tarawa did think real hard about it, and the notion that prevailed was that even if they did go back, eventually it would come out how they managed to slip the Sith's net. And when people found out they had fragged their officers to have a chat with a Sith Lord, the absolute best case scenario would involve a lovely, special-made rope necklace and a short drop.​

​

Meliant sensed this well enough, despite his limited powers of empathy. It was so funny how suddenly these blowhards were thinking about their families now that they were cornered like rats. If they liked them so much, they shouldn't have signed up to die in the big war. Common sense.​

​

Families were overrated, anyway. Amoun knew that very well.​

​

He sighed wistfully, "You and your buddies are survivors now, Tarawa, with all the fucked up baggage that carries. You want my advice? Take it a day at a time. That's what survivors do. Go get my valley ready for me."​

​

Tarawa swallowed hard and murmured something. It sounded close enough to an "yessiree, Bob" to satisfy Meliant. Tarawa rose slowly and limped off into the jungle, back to friendly lines.

Later, when the Night Legion later entered the valley and started securing the harvesting fields, the reservoirs, it was a dreadfully quiet affair.​

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Thyferra [Refinery]
SITH ALLIES: Mercy

Srina could hear the fighting growing distant, not quite ending, but it felt further and further away. The Force had unfurled, rushing back, and everything struck her all at once. The panic and pain, the thrill of a battle, the agony of those they had come to eradicate. Blaster fire snapped somewhere beyond the smoke of the refinery, punctuated by varying detonations, but the pale woman hardly noticed. She was still in Mercy's arms.

Each breath came wet, shallow, catching halfway down before escaping in an ugly wheeze. Blood remained where it had no business being, clinging to her lungs, and a silvery head remained tucked against the larger woman's shoulder. Even if it didn't seem like it…

This was better.

She had stopped slipping in and out of consciousness. One hand tightened weakly against Mercy's exoskeleton, forming a fist, while dry lips whispered for her. "Sestra…"

The word was barely audible as the white-haired woman swallowed and regretted it. Her eyes closed while another rattling breath worked its way through her chest, followed by a shudder that she was trying to ignore. She had lost too much blood, and her body was cold. Her thoughts were still resting squarely on @Acier Moonbound… But he had taken the ultimatum the Titan had offered seriously—Giving her up, for the sake of his mutilated friend.

"Do not…", she trailed off, gathering enough air to finish. "…Look so angry."

The reports coming through Sith channels painted a story of Republic lines breaking after the Force was restored. People who had fallen beneath the struggle returned to power with a vengeance, and objectives were either met or destroyed. It suited the Sith Empress fine. If she could not have Thyferra…No one could. Golden eyes glanced up at Mercy through lashes that were made heavy with exhaustion. "I am still here."

It was a reassurance that she had tried to impress on her nephew, but now it was something that Mercy also needed. Perhaps, moreso than her children. The Covenant Lord was not used to letting people go when they wronged her. Merely wounding Lorn Reingard was a kindness, regardless of how it would appear to the Jedi they had faced. They would claim that the flame-haired woman was a monster. Full of teeth, claws, muscle, and poison…

They weren't wrong.

But—The Titan was her monster. Her sister.

Srina knew her better than anyone and tucked close, quiet, while her senses expanded and swept the field for her children. Quinn, Acier, her people. So many faces. The refinery was slowly flooding with Sith personnel, and more would storm in with every passing moment. She was caked in drying blood that would likely give them reason to stare, but one look at Mercy would make them scatter. Few had been lost…But much had been gained.

Gerwald Lechner and the Dark Council could count this venture as a success. For that, they would have her praise, notably, for how they stayed synchronized despite differing methodologies. So many Sith with so many ideals had fallen from the skies on this world. They came in droves, from all walks, but when it mattered...They moved as one.

Her hand moved up and wrapped around the Titan's neck. Her fury had been like nothing the white-haired woman had ever seen. Twined with grief…It was pure.

"Are you here?"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
ALLIES: Open
ENEMIES: Open

Briana Sal-Soren was no longer in his way, and Gerwald Lechner had no intention of wasting the opening her absence had created.

The High Republic had been forced back across this section of Thyferra, surrendering ground beneath the pressure of the Sith advance and leaving the approaches to the bacta refinery exposed. Gerwald moved with the surviving Dreadguard at the head of that push, pressing forward through the scarred industrial landscape without allowing the momentum of the battle to fade. The refinery had always been one of the prizes of this campaign, and now that the Republic line had broken, there was nothing left for him to do but take it.

Only once the immediate violence had faded did Gerwald become aware of something else.

It was not a voice through the comms or some report passed along the Sith channels. The sensation came through the Force instead, subtle enough that the battle had buried it beneath everything else until now. Something had changed around Srina Talon . Gerwald could not have named what had happened to the Empress from this distance, but the impression carried enough weight to make him slow for several steps. His attention turned inward, reaching instinctively toward the familiar presence he knew should have been there, searching for some indication that whatever had occurred had passed.

The uncertainty sat poorly with him. Srina was not simply another commander elsewhere on the battlefield, and Gerwald had known her far too long to dismiss the disturbance as nothing. There had been too many years between them, too many wars fought beneath the same banners, for him not to recognize when something felt wrong. Yet the refinery remained ahead, the High Republic remained in retreat, and abandoning the advance because of a feeling would accomplish nothing. It was his duty after all. Gerwald pushed the concern aside without truly releasing it, trusting that answers would come once the objective before him was secured.

That did not mean destroy it. Now they took the approach Taeli Raaf advocated for.

The orders passed through Sith channels before the refinery came fully into reach. Heavy weapons were to be controlled, bombardment was forbidden against the facility itself, and anything capable of rupturing storage tanks or damaging the production systems was to be used only if there was no other choice. The Sith had burned enough of Thyferra already. Gerwald had not fought his way this far just to reduce one of the galaxy's most valuable bacta production sites to another field of wreckage.

"Keep the refinery intact," Gerwald ordered as the Dreadguard advanced around him. "Anything defending it can be removed. The facility itself belongs to us."

Republic soldiers could be driven out, defensive positions could be broken, and access points could be forced, but the processing equipment, storage systems, control infrastructure, and whatever bacta remained inside were to survive the assault. Engineering and security teams would follow behind the front line once the outer grounds were secured, taking control of the machinery and locking down anything the Republic might still attempt to sabotage during its retreat.

Gerwald carried his lightsaber low at his side as he studied the refinery ahead. Smoke still drifted across the horizon from the devastation left behind them, but the structure before him represented something different. The Sith had already proven they could burn Thyferra. Taking the refinery intact would prove they could hold what they had broken open.

The Dreadguard continued forward with Gerwald among them, spreading toward the refinery's approaches as the next phase of the invasion began. The High Republic had lost the ground between them and the facility. Gerwald intended to make certain they lost the facility with it, even as part of his awareness remained fixed upon the disturbance he had felt around Srina.

 

[Choli Vyn]

Interacting with: Trextan Voidstalker
Armor- x x x x x | Gear x x x x x x x | Weapons x x x x x

Now or never he says...

The look Choli shot Trextan was comical as it was in its incredulity as another burst of blaster fire cracked somewhere beyond the refinery.

"Why is it always now or never with us?" She uttered under her breath, half exasperated and half amused. Chloe would say this is just another day in the job of being a Warden of the Sky... Choli might say that clearly, they needed better pay.

"Just do not get yourself shot!" she called back as she sprinted toward the cockpit. "I am rather attached to you!"

Of course, that was when the whine of klaxons in the cockpit welcomed her with a chorus of warning lights.

"Shavit."

Choli dropped into the pilot's seat and began throwing switches. Auxiliary power. Fuel pumps. Repulsors. The Sunfire groaned around her as systems reluctantly came alive. Just then the proximity alarm shrieked. Almond shaped eyes went wide as Choli's head snapped toward the sensor display. A dozen contacts had appeared beyond the refinery structures, spreading out toward the Sunfire.

Her grimy soot covered face leaned close through the viewport to get a better visual and just off in the distance, she caught the first dark-armored Sith troopers emerging through the smoke, blaster rifles raised -- one pointed directly toward the ship.

Those color-shifting eyes widened as they turned to slate black.

"Trextan!" The cry of warning shot out as the first crimson bolt screamed across the refinery yard and struck the Sunfire's hull. Chit! The Sunfire by all accounts was a salvaged ship. Patched together by parts, a few well wishes, and whatever Choli could salvage out in the black.

It wasn't made to take a beating, but at the very least, she had installed some very nice pirate spec'd defenses to help out with at least being able to shoot back. Her fingers danced over the console to wind up the one blaster turret they had.

"Inside! Now!"

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: Kill them all
Tags: Rin Taal , Open

He rolled off the top of the landspeeder and fell onto the shattered road, glass raining down around him. A cough wracked his body, blood splattering in the torn earth as he forcefully shoved himself up and leaned against the dented vehicle. His glowing blue eyes glanced up and watched the quartet of shuttles flash through the city to their exit vector. His lips curled into a bloody smile as he watched the civilians escape. Another groan escaped him as one hand delved into the pouch at his mama and pulled out a death stick. He gave a ragged inhale, but the tip didn't ignite as it had for a thousand years.

"Fierfek."

Still no Force. His eyes turned down to the ground, searching for fire that littered the city. He didn't have far to look. Leaning over with another groan, he bent and lit his death stick on a piece of burning debris. It might have once been a pillow, or maybe a stuffed animal. Now it was just a burning piece of trash—a ruined piece of Thyferra. The symbolism did not escape the madman. Blue smoke was exhaled, and he spat a glob of blood beside his boot before pulling his leg toward his chest. A short laugh escaped as, down the street, a troop of Sith marched down the center of the road.

He was done.
His eyes closed while he took another drag.

The Sithspawn were all over him. Claws raked at his armor, fangs clamped and shattered against his beskar'gam. One of them lunged for his face, and he barely managed to get his left vambrace in the way, blocking his face from getting ripped off. The press of bodies immobilized him beneath their weight. Without the Force, he wasn't the Mad Master.

But he was still Muad fucking Dib.

His arm wrenched sideways, rolling one Sithspawn away as he drove his head into the forehead of another. Gauntlets were raised, and the repulsors fired, as the boosters in his armored boot heels erupted and launched him along the ground and through the guardrail and across the empty expanse of space between the flights of stairs. His hands gripped the railing one flight down, and he yanked himself up and over. The infected ran up the stairs, where he looked down at the bunch who ran down the single flight to reclaim their prey. But he was no one's prey.

Two thermal detonators were tossed down the duracrete stairs as he heard more civilians above exit onto the stairwell. Crying mothers who held whimpering children. Fathers and older brothers trying to keep the doors of their floors shut against neighbors, friends, and even family who had turned. They wouldn't survive alone. Muad roared as he pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, taking the steps two at a time to meet the downward-rushing Sithspawn.

His eyes ground open, and he tossed the half-smoked death stick to the ground. His hands gripped the destroyed fender, and he pulled himself up, swaying for a moment. The Sith grew closer, and Muad shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his plummet. His gait was unsteady until he reached the center of the road. One hand pulled the beskad from its magnetic plate on his back. The dinu'ul, the energy shield created by his vod Arrbi Betna, shimmered to life from the vambrace on his left arm. He shouted across the intersection

"Oya, osik for brains! You missed one, you karking hut'uun. You want the honor of killing Muad Dib? Then come on!"

A dozen Sith ignited their crimson lightsabers and approached with a slight jog. They were so eager to meet their death that Muad didn't have the heart to make them wait. He broke into a sprint toward them. He dove forward, slamming the energy shield into the first line as his beskad flicked out, severing jugulars, finding the weak points where plate armor gave way to flexible armor weave. Lightsabers were smacked away, leaving openings for his precise strikes. One of the last ones through which Muad deflected with his dinu'ul; another knife flashed through the air, batted away by his beskad. And a third Sith, blood spurting from his throat, leaped upon Muad's back and drove a knife down toward the collar of his own body suit. It bit deep even as Muad flung the man to the ground.

Another spin and a flurry of strikes left Muad the last one standing. The dinu'ul was deactivated, and he pulled the knife out from where it was driven down and where it grated against his collarbone. He dropped to a knee, weaving at the pain. Another troop of Sith merged onto the road and saw him amidst the dead of their brethren. His glance revealed over thirty more. And they were less than happy to see him. His eyes closed.

His boots pounded up the stairs, armor covered in the gore of Sithspawn he carved through. When he reached the civilians, he ushered them forward and faced the transformed that poured from each door. They battered his armor but found no entry. However, his body beneath felt each blow. But that would not stop the Mandalorian.

Now they neared the door which led to the roof, the single access point to their escape. He roared, "Go, go, go!" The civilians streamed through the door, needing no additional encouragement. When Muad slammed the door shut, he raised his leg and shattered the handle before pressing his body against it. One hand pulled a comlink out. "I need immediate evac for ... Fifty. Follow the source of this transmission!" The first impact on the other side of the door jarred him so badly the comm went flying.

Two of the men ran and slammed against the buckling door as four shuttles flew through the smoky haze that hovered around the buildings. They swooped in on repulsors and hit the roof with a skip. The civies ran forward, loading up as the hinges buckled and the Sithspawn poured out. The two men went down under claws and teeth as the Mad Master flashed out with his saber. One of them slashed through the hilt, damaging the blade emitter. As the wave of monsters pushed the man back, he saw the shuttles take off just before the horde could reach the ships.

Muad roared, diverting their attention, until the wave of creatures shoved him off the edge of the fifty-floor tower. On the way down, he activated the thrusters in his armored boots, arresting his fall around the seventh floor; then the juice ran out, and he fell, stories down, until he crashed onto a speeder.

Muad opened his eyes and used the beskad to rise from the dead Sith to face the next wave. They were still two blocks away. His mind flashed to two visions. A speeder ride, a Zorren woman with flashing golden eyes and a small smile. Outside the speeder were two children. He blinked and saw a far older vision. His body lay broken and bloodied, surrounded by a dead horde of his enemies. Maybe today was the day ...

Then he felt the onrush of the Force flowing back into his body, and he grinned. "And maybe today isn't that day." Immediately, he reached across the bond and touched Rin. She felt safe.

Cyar'ika, get as many off the planet as you can. Do not wait for me. It's easy to slip off world alone. And I'm not going to die. I plan on seeing that vision and your necklace come true. This isn't where our road ends, darlin'.

The Force flowed in and through him, soothing wounds and injuries until he grinned and tightened his hand on the hilt of the beskad and reactivated the energy shield. He tilted his head back to the sky and roared out a laughing challenge. "Come! Lay on the altar of death I have created! I am eager to see your blood stain my sword!"

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

TREXTAN

Choli Vyn

Trextan heard the first bolt slap into the Sunfire’s hull. Sparks rained down and he was already moving before the sound had finished echoing.

He dropped behind a half-collapsed loading brace and drew his blaster in the same motion. Another crimson streak cut the smoke. He answered with two tight shots, forcing the nearest trooper back into cover. A third figure tried to flank left.

Trextan fired two into his chest and sent him sprawling into the ash. They were heavily armoured and he hadn't been walking around with his heavy weaponry.

"I had half a jump plotted," he shouted toward the ramp. "I have them."

He did not have them. Not really. There were too many shapes in the smoke and more coming from the dropship’s landing site. He kept firing anyway, because that was the only thing that bought her time. They focussed on flanking him instead of stopping to set up a heavy weapon that could neutralise the freighter.

The irony of it sat bitter in his chest. They had promised each other this was behind them. No more front lines. No more last stands in burning fields. They were supposed to be hauling cargo and eating street food and arguing about who finished the last of the stew. Instead he was back in the dirt with a blaster in his hand and the same old taste of the fog of war in his mouth.

He risked a glance toward the Sunfire. He could sense her presence through viewport. He knew her hands already flying over the controls. Soon he would be placing his life in her hands again.

Another volley hammered the brace. Sparks burst across his sleeve. He ducked, rolled to a second pile of wreckage, and came up firing. One trooper went down. The next kept coming.

Trextan let the Force sit quiet and unused, even as it pressed at the edges of his thoughts. He would not light himself up like a beacon.

He thought of her laugh in the engine room. Then the way she had looked at him when she said she was rather attached to him. He thought of the years they had spent circling each other and then walking away. He was not walking away this time. They had both suffered so much trauma during the war and they were only just working through it.

The repeater dropped from its housing above. A stream of blue bolts swept across the ground and scattered them. A trooper rushed his position.

Trextan stood sharply. His prosthetic arm swung upwards and caught the trooper below the helm, dropping them instantly. Trextan stole their rifle and let them fall. It happened in a blur and suddenly he was firing a high powered rifle at the troops trying to flank.

"Come on, Choli," he muttered, "Get her singing."

A bolt scored the dirt at his boot. He answered it. He drove them back just far enough that the ramp stayed clear. His breathing was harsh. His hands were surprisingly steady. He still hated what Jacen had made him. He knew they would be shaking later.

He loved her. That was the simple truth of it. He felt it suddenly, acutely even in the middle of the fire. He had loved her before and tried to bury it under time and distance. It had not stayed buried. He was not dying on this rock.

Trextan fired again, covering the ramp, buying every second he could. Two troopers had him on the flank, weapons raised. They lined up their killing shots.

Their weapons crumpled in their hands as if they were made of paper.

Trextan silently swore to himself. He felt the Force shift around him. Someone had sensed that.

Trextan charged up the ramp as the auto-turret covered him. He remained there, returning fire until the ramp was closed.

"Go go go!" he shouted, rushing towards the cockpit. He stowed the sith rifle in some webbing in case this got rough and threw himself down into the co-pilot chair.

"We've got a nav route, tractor shroud is ready to go. I'm marking the most intense fleet action on your map."

In the chaos of war they were as likely to be hit by Republic forces as Sith.

"Huh," he went as he glanced at the broadcast IDs. "Republic have a Rogue Squadron."

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"
​

Objective: The Long March
Tags: Aiden Porte


While the planet burned, Katarine had found herself imprisoned within the Black Pyramid, left at the mercy of Darth Carnifex .

She had escaped the Pyramid.

That did not mean she was free.

Carnifex had seen to that.

There were chains that did not require iron, and prisons that did not need walls. Whatever had been done to her within that terrible place had left something behind, an invisible tether wound tightly around her soul. Even now, standing beneath the smoke-choked skies of Thyferra, Katarine could feel him.

The pull of his blood.

It was faint beneath the thunder of battle, but unmistakable. A sickening magnetic presence somewhere in the distance, drawing at something buried deep inside her whether she wanted it to or not. Katarine winced and pressed a hand briefly against her chest, as though she might physically tear the connection free.

Carnifex was here.

The realization turned her stomach. How many had died while she had been locked away in his Pyramid?

Guilt came quickly after that thought, sharp enough to steal her breath. She should have been here. She should have stood beside them. She should have fought.

Instead, she had been absent.

Again.

There always seemed to be some distance between Katarine and the places she tried to call home. Centuries ago she had lost everything she knew to time. The people she loved had become names buried beneath history, the galaxy moving on without her while she slept. She had awakened to a universe that had no place waiting for her and had spent years convincing herself that perhaps the Jedi could become that place.

Perhaps she could belong there. Yet when she disappeared, the galaxy had continued turning. The Order had continued without her. No rescue had come. No desperate search had reached the Black Pyramid. Perhaps no one had even known she was gone.

That hurt far more than Katarine wanted to admit.

Carnifex had made her his prisoner, but some darker corner of her mind whispered that perhaps captivity was simply the natural conclusion for someone who belonged nowhere else. She was neither truly part of the world she had lost nor entirely part of the one she had awakened into. She moved between people, between Orders, between causes, always useful enough to stand beside them but never rooted deeply enough to believe they would notice when she vanished.

A woman without a home.

A Jedi who was never quite certain she was truly one of them, and now, even after escaping Carnifex's walls, she carried his chain with her.

Katarine swallowed hard. None of that mattered right now.

Thyferra was dying around her.

She moved through streets that barely resembled streets anymore. Buildings had collapsed into burning heaps, duracrete cracked apart beneath her boots while smoke rolled between shattered structures in thick black waves. Somewhere nearby something exploded, the concussion rattling broken windows and sending another shower of debris into the roadway.

The wounded were everywhere.

Katarine passed a soldier slumped against the remains of a wall, one hand pressed uselessly against a blood-soaked abdomen while another figure knelt beside him trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Farther down the street, civilians carried someone between them whose leg bent at an angle it was never meant to bend.

Someone screamed for a medic. Someone else screamed a name over and over again. There were bodies Katarine deliberately did not look at for too long. Blood streaked the pavement beneath drifting ash. Fires burned in overturned transports. The air tasted like smoke, scorched metal, and something horribly organic beneath it all.

The Force was worse.

Fear.

Pain.

Grief.

Thousands of fractured emotions crashed against her senses until Katarine had to reinforce the walls around her mind just to keep moving. Thyferra felt like an open wound in the Force, every terrified heartbeat another pulse of agony.

Still she walked.

She helped where she could. Lifted debris from someone trapped beneath it. Directed the wounded toward what remained of a triage station. Stopped long enough to steady a frightened civilian before continuing onward.

She could not undo what had happened here. She could not undo what had happened to her. But she could still help. Maybe that had to be enough.

Then, through the smoke and chaos, her deep green eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. For one precious second, Katarine simply stared. An old face. A familiar one.

Something warm stirred beneath all that ash inside her chest, and despite everything, a smile found its way onto her features.

"Aiden..."

The smile faltered almost immediately when she saw the state of him.

Katarine crossed the remaining distance quickly and joined him, concern overtaking whatever relief she had felt at finding someone she knew. Her gaze moved over him carefully, taking in every injury, every sign of exhaustion the battle had carved into him.

For once, she did not think about whether she belonged here.

She simply knew that she was glad he was still alive.

 

[Choli Vyn]

Interacting with: Trextan Voidstalker
Armor- x x x x x | Gear x x x x x x x | Weapons x x x x x

The instant Trextan cleared the ramp, Choli slammed her palm against the remote actuator.

"Got you!" She barked out to the cockpit, beads of sweat already trailing down her temples. The Sunfire's ramp snapped upward, sealing with a heavy clang just as another volley of crimson bolts hammered against the hull.

"Go, go, go," Choli muttered right back, fingers flying across the controls as she took control of the piloting yolk. Repulsors whined beneath them as the battered freighter shuddered, lifting several meters off the refinery floor with a whoosh of sand, grit, and air.

But just as they gained a few feet, her eyes caught the movement below. Of course, more Sith Troopers were pouring through the smoke.

"Chit." she cursed, grimiacing as one hand shot toward a decidedly aftermarket switch tucked beneath the console.

"Trextan, cover your ears!" Choli barely gave him time to question it before she tossed a pair of protective earphones across the cockpit at him.

"I mean it!" and without further ado, she slammed the sonic deterrent and the next instant, the Sunfire thumped and shuddered as an invisible wall of high-frequency sound exploded outward in every direction. Sith troopers below staggered violently while several immediately dropped their weapons, hands flying to their helmets as the debilitating frequency tore through their audio protection.

Choli's own auditory implant compensated instantly, reducing the shriek in her ears to little more than an unpleasant vibration.

"Pirates," she explained quickly, wrenching back on the controls as the Sunfire climbed hard through the smoke. "Long story."

The slate grey of determination coated her color-shifting eyes as they flicked toward the navigation display and Trextan's marked engagement zone. A wild arch of a brow and double take came next.

"Rogue Squadron?" A crooked grin tugged at her soot-covered face.

"Well, let us hope they are better shots than the Sith." The Sunfire's engines screamed as Choli moved to get them up and out. If anyone needed any help, now was the time to call out over comm for those High Republic Forces and Thyferra locals below.

OPen for interaction or assistance needed by High Republic Forces for extraction Aiden Porte Katarine Ryiah Muad Dib Rin Taal Kitt Solo Acier Moonbound Lorn Reingard Akhenaton Petra Noll

 

[Akhenaton]

​

The Dark Jedi wasted no time. He found a portable specimen case and grabbed several small tissue samples and canisters of seeds into it, securing each one before snapping the container shut. Whatever happened to the factory, enough of the crop would survive to be studied and reproduced elsewhere. Akhenaton reignited his violet saber. The computers were next. He drove the blade through the nearest terminal and dragged it across the console, molten metal and sparks spilling onto the floor. One after another, the remaining systems met the same fate. Screens flickered and died as he destroyed anything that might contain useful production data.

Akhenaton reached beneath his cloak and produced several thermal detonators. He armed them and tossed them among the processing equipment. Then he ran. The first explosion struck before he reached the exit.

The blast shook the factory and sent a wave of heat through the corridor behind him. A second detonation followed, then a third. Machinery ruptured beneath the explosions as fire spread through the facility. Akhenaton emerged through the doorway with the specimen case in hand as smoke began billowing from the shattered windows.

There was no time to admire his work.

A small civilian speeder sat nearby, probably belonging to one of the factory workers who had fled when the fighting began. Akhenaton climbed into the cockpit and threw the specimen case onto the seat beside him. The engine roared to life. He slammed his foot on the accelerator. The speeder lurched forward and away from the burning facility and onto the roadside. Behind him, another explosion tore through the factory, billowing out another smoke plume into the skyline.

Akhenaton kept his focus on reaching the High Republic Fallback position.

The battle had spread across the countryside. Columns of smoke marked the horizon, while distant flashes of artillery illuminated the haze hanging over the fields. He pushed the civilian speeder as fast as its engines would allow, weaving around abandoned equipment and wreckage scattered across the road.

The High Republic rallypoint position came into view. He would reach it before the Sith did.

​