Private Steel and Sabers

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Denon – District 6B, Industrial Blockade Zone

The blast door didn't so much open as it ripped free. A thundering crash echoed down the corridor as the durasteel slab flew inward and slammed into the wall beyond, folding in half from the impact. Smoke billowed out after it, followed by the sharp hum of a lightsaber cutting through the haze like a brand through fog. Valery stepped through.

Her silhouette flared red-gold from the emergency lighting, her jumpsuit singed and boots echoing over shattered glass and rubble. Her saber — brilliant violet, humming with restrained fury — cast a pale glow across the dust-choked corridor. Behind her, a dozen gang enforcers lay in various states of unconsciousness or regret.

Ahead, more were waiting.

Blasterfire erupted from behind overturned crates and fortified makeshift cover — a sudden storm of bolts. Valery didn't hesitate. She moved like a blade unsheathed. A twist of her wrist deflected the first barrage. A spin of her body sent her hair trailing like a comet behind her. She leapt forward, boots hitting the floor in a low crouch, then surged into the fray.

One slash — a weapon cut in half. Another — a brute's chestplate caved inward as he flew backward into a wall. The third never saw her coming until her hand snapped forward, and the Force hit him like a wall. They weren't Sith. Not even soldiers. But these mercs were well-armed, organized, and stubborn. They were guarding something deep in the bowels of the industrial zone — something that wasn't supposed to be here.

Illegal weapons. Possibly experimental.

Possibly worse.

Valery paused only when the final blaster dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, measured breaths. The corridor around her was ruined — smoke drifting through broken overheads, power conduits sparking. She tilted her head, listening through the Force.

More were coming. Of course they were. She turned toward the sealed hatch at the end of the hallway — reinforced, humming with a power source that wasn't standard issue. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Can't ever be simple," she muttered, stepping toward the door and readying her saber again. The next wave would be stronger. Heavily armed. Probably smarter.

Fine.

She wasn't in the mood for subtle anyway.

Kallan F'lare ​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

Perhaps there was some truth in the idea that the Force often guided those that were receptive to its whispers. What other explanation could there be for how Kallan had ended up in such a place as Denon - a planet covered entirely by a single city. He had only experienced a place like this once before and that was on Coruscant, and that experience had been overwhelming to say the absolute least.

Denon really didn’t seem all that different.

Industrious and overcrowded, with layer upon layer of levels to traverse. He much preferred worlds with open area, where civilization existed but was not rampant and overreaching. The only difference here than on Coruscant was a tension on the edges of his mind, akin to the deep breath of quiet before a storm.

It was that sensation that drove him onward, navigating maze like alleyways and dilapidated structures that lay forgotten in the onwards march of industry. The sound of rushing footsteps and hurried voices came from the distance followed by a very loud crash and boom. The trademark pew pew of blasters being fired reached his ears and the storm in his mind erupted into a maelstrom of power - someone or something in the building ahead had a great deal of power. He broke into a steady jog following the sounds of commotion and fighting up ahead and when he finally broke through the - now smashed open - building, he paused, eyes watching and calculating as a force of of heavily armed mercenaries gathered in the lobby, preparing to charge down the hallway into whatever lay beyond the other threshold.

The feeling of Adrenaline was palpable in the air, so thick that one could almost reach out and slice through. Fear and excitement also lay thickly in the air, almost as a blanket over the adrenaline. It was a sort of euphoric feeling that washed over Kallan. It had been a very long time since he’d felt such combative energies rushing around him, it gave him a little taste of what home had been.

A smile crept upon his face as he slipped behind an unaware mercenary watchman. In one swift motion, he gripped the mercenary with an iron grip, pulling him from his allies and wrenching his blaster free from his grasp - tossing it into the distance with distaste. He much preferred close combat weaponry, not ones that required distance. There was a certain pleasure in defeating an adversary on equal footing.

It seemed fortune favored him, as the mercenary he’d just disabled had carried a small blade of a material he didn’t care to identify - It would serve its purpose.

Now armed, Kallan confidently stepped through the smashed barrier and into the lobby once more, the soldiers having left began their march into the hallways beyond.

He followed at a measured pace, heart racing and energy thrumming beneath his skin. His eyes sparked with excitement as his own power pulsed brightly in the space around him, only detectable by those who could feel such things. His own emotions added fuel to the already burning fire of tangible feeling in the air, and a stoic expression plastered itself upon his face. The face of a soldier, determined and ready for the confrontation he knew was coming.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

The second wave hit harder.

Blaster bolts ripped down the corridor in a focused salvo, chewing through broken wall panels and kicking sparks from the floor. Valery moved like she'd danced this dance before — saber flashing, boots sliding across debris as she carved a path through the chaos. Two mercs down. A third thrown bodily into the bulkhead with a hard wave of her hand.

And then—

Crash.

Something slammed into her from the side. Not a blast. Not debris. Someone. Valery hit the ground in a roll, instinct snapping to life as she threw her arm up, ready to strike. But the saber didn't ignite. Her eyes narrowed—

—and then widened slightly as she looked up at the source. Tall. Broad. Definitely not a merc. He looked too clean, too controlled. And those eyes? Not panicked like the others — lit with focus, and a spark of something else. Something dangerous. Something interesting. Still sprawled, Valery gave a low, amused exhale and arched a brow.

He wasn't sore on the eyes, that's for sure.

She rose in one fluid motion, brushing off the front of her singed jumpsuit — more for show than anything. Violet light flared again at her side, illuminating her face in soft fire. Jedi, through and through. But her eyes lingered on him just a beat longer than necessary.

"Okay," she said, smirking faintly, "You're definitely not with them. So…" Her saber dipped slightly, the glow casting shadows over her grin.

"Who are you?"

A pause. Her tone dropped just enough to make it clear she wasn't annoyed anymore.

"And if you're planning to keep crashing into me like that, I might need a name first."

Kallan F'lare ​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

Kallan wielded the blade with practised precision, performing a crude and deadly dance of slash and jabs designed to overwhelm enemies with sheer power and assault - he would not leave them an opening to counter his attacks. It also helped that whomever was at the other end of the hall seemed to occupy the majority of the assault force in violent flashes of violet and blaster fire. His approach from the rear was silent and confident, his reflexes aided by his innate connection with the Force. There was no doubt in his ability nor his safety, a true junction between trust in himself and whatever power had favored him with his natural gift with weapons.

There was no emotion coming from the Arkanian as he fought the mercenaries from the rear. He did not feel joy in taking a life nor did he feel guilt. He simply did as nature and self preservation dictated. If he chose not to fight, he was choosing death.

He did not want to die. So, he fought. He fought with a confidence in self and training that paid homage to his younger years, where fear and doubt were driven into the dirt to never rise again. His training had prepared him for this and he allowed his instincts to guide him. He was distinctly aware of his position in relation to the soldiers around him, and he was able to detect their intention with relative ease - resulting in a battle awareness that superseded normalcy.

Though his actions were crude and aggressive, his movements were graceful and elegant, dancing deftly around blaster bolts and incoming weapon slashes. He was not perfect, however, and for those that he was unable to dodge, his armorweave cloak took the brunt of blasterfire and his clothing took hits from melee weapons that just barely made it beyond his defences.

However, as talented a warrior as he was, he was not always aware of everything. He felt the intention too late, and winced as he felt a force collide with his back and toss him several feet through the air and into something... soft. There were many things that he imagined being thrown into and he had willed himself into a loosened form so as to lessen the impact of whatever hard surface he was going to come in contact with, however he would not have expected to be thrown into someone else.

He rolled as he collided and ended on his knees, before rising swiftly and eyeing whomever, or whatever, he had collided with. His eyes betrayed no emotion as he gazed over the woman in veiled thought. His eyes danced over her jumpsuit and centered on the lightsaber she gripped.

She is no stranger to wielding that weapon. he commented internally as the blade ignited and cast the both of them in a violet glow. He should have been surprised to find another Jedi so soon after leaving Coruscant, but truthfully, he was not. He had run into several Jedi since his departure, it seemed that they were more prevalent than originally he had thought or believed.

Who are you? she asked him. Followed by another remark, And if you're planning to keep crashing into me like that , I might need a name first.

"Kallan is my name, Jedi." he offered with a neutral tone, ".. and you had best prepare - another wave is coming." he offered in finality as he took a defensive stance at the sound of footsteps echoing from the destroyed hallway amidst the alarm.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery blinked once at the neutral response.Of course he answered like that. All clipped efficiency and none of the banter. She dusted off a streak of carbon scoring from her sleeve and gave him a sidelong glance.

"You can drop the 'Jedi' thing. Call me Valery." She shifted slightly, boots planting against the debris-littered floor. Her saber hummed low beside her, its glow stretching across the scorched bulkhead and the armored shape of the man now standing beside her.

"Guess we're a team now." Her tone was dry, but there was a flash of something beneath it. Focus. Readiness. And just the faintest trace of thrill. The corridor ahead groaned as the bulkhead strained. Footsteps echoed now. Different from the earlier panicked charges. This next group moved like they knew what they were doing.

Then the shadows broke.

Black-clad mercs swept into view, heavier armor, modified rifles, formation tight. Not just brawlers. These were professionals. One raised a hand and the squad split left and right, pinning them in a kill box.

"Eyes up," Valery muttered. "These aren't the usual grunts."

Blaster fire erupted again, sharper and more coordinated. Valery stepped forward into the barrage, saber sweeping high to catch the first volley. The next wave had arrived, and she was already moving. Her stance mirrored Kallan's now, not quite in sync, but close enough to be deadly.

Let them come.

Kallan F'lare ​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

"You can drop the 'Jedi' thing. Call me Valery."

A smirk passed across his face and faded as a leaf being blown in a soft autumn wind gust. His eyes trailed over the woman, not in a lustful way, but in the practised gaze of a warrior sizing up an ally, or potential opponent - he didn't really know her after all. He'd only met one other Jedi in his travels so far and he was someone that Kallan found himself somewhat respectful towards. He seemed to exemplify what the Jedi were supposed to be, or maybe even were - he hadn't met enough of them to make an educated assumption on the matter.

Still.

This 'Valery' seemed quite different from the Miraluka he had met. Her very presence held the sweet promise of death should he have to face her in direct combat. He was not under any allusions that he would be able to surpass her skill, the shredded remnants of the battlefield around her echoed that sentiment. He would not risk his own life to face this woman, not yet, probably not ever. Strength and Valor were important aspects of character to Kallan and this Jedi seemed to be boundless in both, and so she had earned the beginnings of his respect, even if he he would never know anything else of her.

He knew all he needed to know by the way she carried herself in battle and the skills she displayed.

"Valery." he accepted with a steady tone, eyes finally leaving the woman and focusing on the hallway beyond. His smirk grew as she spoke in his peripherals of the fact that they were a team now, given the situation that unfolded around them. Just as he was readying to respond, black clad warriors rushed into the room. He shifted instantly from his focus on the woman to focus on the enemies that had now placed themselves in his path, his own power flaring in response to the emotions that ran like liquid fire through his veins - gripping the vibroblade that he carried tightly and assuming a loose stance.

"Kallan F'lare." he offered the Jedi woman. He figured if they were to face such heavily armed, and obviously well trained, enemies then he should at least offer his name in the event that one or both of them were to succumb to them.

Kallan felt the shift in intention before the blaster fire began, his form dancing agilely around blaster bolts coming at him from the east and west sides of the room. He was faintly aware of the Jedi woman taking fire from the northern and southern grouping, slightly thankful that she was able to draw some of their fire from him. He did not worry for her safety, he could not afford to think of anything other than his own survival.

He slid low under the heat of the blaster volley, bolts creating minute craters just inches from where he had been. He felt heat singe his cheek as he narrowly dodged another bolt that had been fired in his direction and in that moment his anger flared unleashing a savage yell that erupted from the depths of his throat in the form of a telekinetic burst, disorienting the soldiers directly ahead of him.

Adrenaline fueled him as he took the opportunity that had been created to descend upon the soldiers in a fierce cut and slash of the vibroblade that he carried. He paid no heed to his surroundings, his mind entirely consumed by the bloodlust that had been borne from the emotions now coursing wildly within him. He reveled in the dying screams of his opponents as he descended upon his downed victims, their cries drowned out by the wild haze of red that tinged his vision.

There was no mercy when it came to his self preservation, these things were trying to kill them. He would not die, not to them. He had forgotten that Valery Noble was also fighting her own battle, consumed only by the driving need to kill and show these mercenaries that they now faced the merciless promise of death.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery didn't look away from the blaster fire when she heard his name, but a faint smirk touched her lips all the same.

"A pleasure," she said, voice calm despite the chaos around them. Her violet blade was a blur in the dim light, catching bolts in quick, clean sweeps. Each movement flowed into the next, with no wasted energy. Her stance shifted and spun as she advanced, deflecting one shot back into the chestplate of a merc charging ahead of his line. He dropped instantly and she continued forward.

Another came in from the left, rifle raised. She pivoted low, her blade slashing upward through the weapon, then cutting across his armor before he even had time to react.

These weren't thugs. Their formation was tight, their tactics controlled, but she had seen worse and fought through more. She stepped forward again, turning her saber to an upward angle as she deflected another bolt into the ceiling and slammed her boot into the chest of the next soldier.

As she moved, she glanced toward Kallan. He was in the thick of it, blade cutting through with brutal efficiency. Valery didn't intervene. He didn't need her help. If anything, they made a good pair in the chaos.

Two more broke off from the right flank, attempting to flank her. She stepped to the side, ducked low, and with a flick of her hand, sent one flying into the bulkhead with a wave of Force. The second was met by her saber, the tip sliding clean through the gap in his helmet before he hit the ground.

The corridor was starting to clear. She exhaled, steady, not slowing just yet. More could come.

"We hold here for another minute," she said, her tone firm. "Then we move."

Kallan F'lare ​

 

[Kallan F'lare]

Kallan didn't respond right away. He was still moving — not recklessly, but with a brutal precision that spoke of long-forgotten drills and muscle memory burned into bone.

His sword carved a clean, efficient line through a merc's chestplate, then reversed grip mid-motion to drive backward through another charging from behind. He turned with the movement, boot slamming into a rifle barrel to knock it wide before slicing low, hamstring, then throat. Each kill was clean, fast, methodical. Not elegant, not Jedi. Just practiced violence.

Strike. Turn. Clear the angle. Advance.
The voice of his old instructor echoed for a split second in his head. Cold, Clipped, Arkanian.
Kallan shoved it down. That voice belonged to another life. Another version of him.

The corridor went quiet except for the soft hum of her blade and the faint drip of blood off scorched armor. Kallan finally stilled, breathing hard, scanning the shadows like a soldier waiting for the next order, except none would come. Not anymore.

He glanced toward Valery Noble , eyes narrowing.

"A minute's a long time," he said, voice low but edged. "They'll use it."

His grip tightened on the hilt. Not from fear but from habit. From knowing what came next in structured engagements, what a real response looked like. He could feel it coming, like a distant storm.

Hold the corridor. Fall back on command.
They'd drilled that maneuver a thousand times. And a thousand times, it had meant retreat.

"Next time we finish it."

He didn't question her command, not exactly, but the way he said it carried weight. Not rebellion, not disrespect. Just the voice of someone who had taken orders all his life… and chosen not to anymore.

It was the words of one who had elected to choose his own path.