Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction Storm Chasers || SO and HR Junction of Moorja and Terrijo

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The reminder of Valaine's enhanced existence made Kito chuckle. It was true: the Shaper, no matter how much endurance she trained, the Sangnir would typically come out the better. Huffing slightly, she managed to catch her breath and calm the pounding in her chest.

Thankfully, her face was red from the exertion, not wholly from the little nickname the woman often called her.

All in all, the pat on her back helped. Kito nodded slightly, accepting the reassurance.

As Kito mentioned the redhead, it seemed Reina had also seen them. She waved as Reina made her way over and nodded in agreement with Valaine's assessment of the situation. She laughed and sighed softly.

"Looks like we all did," Kito added. Looking between them, Kito wondered if they had seen each other since Naboo. For the Shaper, Reina had literally fallen off the face of the galaxy, rarely seeing her around the Jedi temple on Naboo. A part of her had hoped that she would have been there to greet her when she decided to settle.

"Probably an awkward moment, but how have you been?" she asked as her eyes followed Valaine's, catching a glimpse of another shuttle taking off. So many people were trying to escape the world; the ports were overwhelmed, and so were the people. Kito was wanting to be more open and talkative this time around. Remembering how quiet she was during the coronation reception. Though her mind was a bit distracted at the time.

Something felt different, but Kito didn't want to linger on it. Maybe something had happened, something changed for Reina — but she was here to help, it seemed. She was still one of the good guys. Shaking her head lightly, Kito moved to help one of the civilians who had tripped and grab their bag. Looking up, she was able to quickly direct the panicked woman to the rest of the crowd.

"Do you need a hand here? Valaine and I can help." Kito glanced towards the Sangnir, offering a smile as if she were asking, 'Please.'

Turning back to Reina, she chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to formulate a way to prod the redhead's mind.

"Do you have any idea what happened? I was separated from my group, and I ran into Valaine…" Kito let the wheels in her mind turn.

"And now you — we can't have all decided to come to this planet just on a whim…"
 
If you need a label for me, then you don't know me
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DECEPTION
Moorja
Spire





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Her Djem So hammer fell. He did not meet it with brute resistance. He angled “Dawn’s Light” and slid the strike off-line— Then released the blade entirely. Balaya no doubt expected follow-up saber pressure.
Instead—
She would feel her wrist freeze mid-recovery.
Crush. Not shouted. Not dramatic. Focused. Her saber hilt would compress in her grip as invisible pressure clamped around it. Metal groaning. Not enough to shatter. Enough to distort alignment.

She could easily rip her arm back through sheer strength, breaking the Force bind. Good. She’s formidable.
He wouldn’t press that. He’d shift. Her chest repulsor ignites. He doesn’t brace. He channels. Electric Judgment. Not wild lightning. Not Sith fury. A controlled filament arcs from his open palm. Blue-white. Precise. It strikes not her flesh—

But the choker crystal.

Contained darkside loops don’t like purified current. The crystal flares violently, golden veins turning white-hot. Her feedback would hopefully stutter. Harvest field flickering. Wraith cohesion would destabilize.

He won’t sustain the discharge.

He’ll cut it the instant the circuit overload peaks. Economy. She’d counter with brute mass. He’ll meet it with stance. Valor steadies his legs. He’ll drop low, one hand slamming into the floor. Force ripple upward. Not a blast. A compression field that momentarily increases gravity under her feet.

If successful, her heel anchors will sink deeper than intended. Balance disrupted.

Either way, he’ll rise.

Arcing his lightsaber—Not at her throat.

At the seam of her chest repulsor assembly. Permafrost edge bites just enough to shear a conduit if catching her right. If it worked, her next repulse will misfire sideways, slamming into a pillar instead of him.
Dust will rain.
He finally lets something sharper into his expression behind the visor. She wanted war? He gives it discipline sharpened to a blade. He shifts into a Vaapad cadence for three heartbeats. Not the full spiral. Not feeding darkness. Just harnessing momentum.

Her aggression becomes energy.

He redirects it. Each heavy strike she throws feeds his counter-timing. He steps inside.
Locking with her saber again—letting her knees attack his armor. Little to no effect. He pushes. Not physically. Force crush concentrated at her elbow joint. To cause microfractures to spider through plating if successful.

Her blade will hopefully dip.

He’ll pivot behind her hip again—And slam his palm flat between her shoulder blades.

Another controlled pulse. Not to launch her. To interrupt breath. To break rhythm.
All he needs is for her to stumble forward one step. That will be enough. He’ll advance. Not roaring.
Not taunting. Just inevitability. Behind him, Jairdain’s lattice hums stronger now that civilians have cleared. Valor threads through him again. He feels it fully now. Not borrowed strength. Shared purpose.

You harvest fear. A step forward. Do you even know what the word means? “Dawn’s Light” shifts to dual-phase. Blade length extends mid-strike. Unexpected reach.

Aiming to slice through her remaining knee barb housing clean.

She’s still dangerous. Still augmented. Still powerful. But now— She’s losing tools. And he’s gaining ground. Electric Judgment flickers again briefly, controlled, disciplined, striking the artifact in her headband just as she attempts another tendril reach.

The golden glow sputters. Not destroyed. Diminished.

She wanted him unarmored.

Now she faces him unburdened.

No shield.

One blade.

Raw Force.

And the full weight of a Vanagor who has decided this ends.



 
Allies: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor

The knees drove upward as intended, illerium propelling them into his chest plating with bone-rattling force no hammer swing, just raw body momentum he tried to slide off-line anyway. He had reacted to a swing that had not come, aggression that wasn't there or directed to it. The parts of her armor making a loop of energy within her, that it pushed to keep from leaking outwards. She didn't feed vaapad she starved it as he had moved off to the side when she flipped in place. Her boots landing without the heels she had ejected to get the initial speed. Eyes still watching as she felt it in her hand and saber. Pressure bemusement and dropped the blade when the hilt seemed to hold for a moment.

"Oh." The crush was there and she winked. "Want to see a cool trick." She said it and held her hands up for a moment as the springs ejected to hilts one for each hand and she offered a wink. Energy crackling towards her choker as it worked to absorb it with a scream in the distance. Convulsions on the floor as the man seemed to be shaking violently from the pain and she looked at him. Watching the movements as he came in and slashed for the knee housings of her boots. A small adjustment as she went flatfooted and pulled back with a comfort level increasing... his spin around her towards her shoulder blades when he was speaking and she could feel him pulling.

Her armors top taking it as the scaled metal design showed a line along it. The akure implants secured within her so damage to them was difficult. She didn't move, her sabers still in her hands and at her side for a moment as her words came out. "Oh." She released a partial charge of the glute implants, their repulse coming from behind her while he was going towards her shoulders with a moment. The shoulder clasps of her armor were there and she let them fire at him with compressed illerium in the repulse. He was fast, he had skill but he also liked to talk and she didn't know if he was trying to intimidate her or seduce her.... He really seemed to like touching her though fast and almost casually.

His fear line was also adorable as she felt him trying to form vaapad at least for a moment. The loop her armor formed and created as it channeled her darkness through her and around was contained. Vaapad as she had pointed to earlier needed sustenance and a loop but denying that with a closed armor design that only went into her own body to reinforce it... wouldn't make it. His extended reach, rapid movements in the form and her minimal movement or striking was important. When he asked her if she knew what fear was and launched another crackle of electric judgment she directed it. her headband taking it as her wraiths were just encircling.

"Do you?" SHe said it as the scream continued but she raised a hand and removed the headband after her finished looking at it. "You seem obsessed with this. Here." She said it and tossed it for a moment. "Small secret jedi, the circlet and my necklace is not what is linking me to him or the twelve others on the planet." She said it when she was looking over at him though She held a small tight lipped smile on her face with the blade in hand as the twin sounds of a snap-hiss came. Twin golden blades erupting with pulses and crackles. She didn't need to move though as her vambrace gleamed. She held it with the blade pointed for a moment as the flamethrower erupted towards him in a wide spray.

She was launching it for a moment and didn't move in an attack adopting her stance to makashi with a grin and allowing her one hand to go into a reverse grip of the blade. Her gauntlets gleamed dark metal and adjusted with the talons moving into position for another round. The slice wires spooling back into the small launchers and there were the different barbs and segmented parts moving to prepare for another round of attacks. She was amused, her wraiths holding around him and looking more and more like the people that had been used to create them. -She had more amusement though as he barely had touched the surface of what there was to her armor.
 

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Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Lina Ovmar Lina Ovmar / Lily Decoria Lily Decoria / Sven Halestorm Sven Halestorm
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The tempting offer that Lina gave was certainly sparking some musings within the masked man, but none that could be entertained at present of course. A hum of agreement was the only response He gave before the doors slid open to reveal a pair of Jedi waiting to pounce behind it. Always so eager to enter the action, it would almost be charming if they weren't interrupting their otherwise seamless operation at hand. Darth Strosius wasted no time in igniting His lightsaber as the Jedi made their moves.

They were clever enough to engage them one at a time, undoubtedly to probe at them before deciding where to focus their full efforts and attention. A shame that it was Lina and Darth Strosius that they encountered. While she fended off against the one, the other rushed at Him with an admittedly surprising speed. Unexpected but far from unbeatable of course. A few surprises were to be anticipated, and just as He moved to do so now, accounted for in kind.

The masked man flipped His lightsaber around in His grasp and reared His arm back, holding the crimson blade across His body to block the incoming slash before it could meet His robes and armor. His sword meanwhile would be thrusted forwards, ideally to force the Jedi off balance and to the side rather than head on as she was now. If the blade did actually make contact however then that was all the better, but given her speed thus far He doubted she'd let herself be struck so easily.

 
"Am I supposed to be frightened?" Syreeta asked, raising an eyebrow as her spell, rather than fulfilling its intended purpose, revealed the three... entities within Carnifex. She had dozens of personas within her body. Most of them were composed of the essences of living beings she had killed and absorbed while she was still a Cultist. Even now that she was redeemed, she still held their memories, their personalities, their power.

"You bore me, Carnifex. You may be too far gone for the Light to reach you, but you're still only a man." She glanced toward the heavily pregnant Jairdain Ismet-Thio Jairdain Ismet-Thio , the target of the dark lord's vile intent. "A man whose desires are still getting the better of him."

Whatever was going on between these people, it was personal - and she wanted no more part of it. She had saved the wounded Jedi Knight, who remained suspended in her protective bubble. That was enough. The rest she would leave to Jax Thio Jax Thio and Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor , the latter of whom was fending off Balaya Praelior Zambrano Balaya Praelior Zambrano with considerable skill and determination.

Floating the Knight beside her, Syreeta departed from the scene, resuming her earlier task of evacuating people from the building.

/exit thread
Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
 
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Sven's blade caught against the wave of force Lina threw up to defend herself, his muscles tensing as he struggled to slice through.

"I am sorry, dear, I was expecting two ugly Sith here, unfortunately, I only found you two. Care to point me in the right direction?"

His mouth curled into a coy grin as a bead of sweat moved from his forehead, the corner of his eye catching the tendril as it moved to strike, his hand moving just fast enough to throw a small barrier to dissipate some of the force.

The tendril struck, sending the man back, a grunt escaping his lips as he hit the durasteel wall behind him, sliding down the wall as he glanced up, recovering his breath.

"I didn't know it was going to be that kind of party, I would've invited more friends if we had been properly invited."

Sven stood up with a grunt, his thumb sliding the activator back on for his blade as he looked towards the woman across from him.

"I do say Lily, I think we might have an actual challenge on our hands. I hope dark and broody over there doesn't cause you much trouble."

He took a deep breath before he put his hand out, sending another wave of force towards Lina, then using his other hand to conjure a blast to hit her from behind as he moved to strike her again.


 
Location: Agriculture Guild Hall
Tags: Gavin Restur Gavin Restur Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania Glissara Glissara Aurelian Veruna Aurelian Veruna

Okay, Mercy didn't expect Corazona to take her insult that seriously, and so when the Jedi explained... Mercy got a disgusted expression on her face.

"Oh, that's... that's gross, hun, really... I did not need to know those specifics."

She even shuddered, feeling that disgust roll right against her spine, but luckily the next thing that Cora said kind of took her out of it. It would have been bad for everyone involved if Mercy went into a fight feeling disgust. The only way to fix that was by drenching herself in blood, nature's natural bleaching solution.

"Don't tell me you're here for him. The great Mercy, Misandrist Mother of the core, is here chasing after a man?"

She blinked there and muttered Misandrist Mother of the Core to herself. "Okay, that's good. Like. Really good, actually, I am gonna use that if you don't mind... and even if you do, realistically." Grinning there warmly as she glanced towards Glissara who seemed to be half-listening to their conversation with disbelief.

"Let him have it, darling, I will handle the Jedi Noble Lady here!"

Immediately after those words, Mercy suddenly vanished and then the sheer scale and heat of her presence reappeared right next to Cora practically instantaneously. Using the Force to magnify her speed to such an extent she was almost imperceptible to the eye.

If Cora looked to the side? Mercy's shovel-shaped fist was already coming down to pound into her face.
 
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Objective: Unchanged
Equipment: Himself
Tags: Eloise Dinn Eloise Dinn

A clawed pincer-limb formed from the colony's shoulder, catching the blade of the lightsaber with a hail of sparks a mere few centimeters from his hideous visage. He wasn't entirely well-protected from lightsabers, at least compared to some of his own creations, but he could survive contact with them for several seconds at the very least. After all, that was what he'd designed himself to do. Survive.

Metal bubbled and deformed, yet Helix held his ground. He looked down at the Jedi with something almost approaching interest.

It was always interesting when someone didn't break and run at the sight of him, let alone after seeing the thousandfold ways in which he could slice, crush, and shred. Courage was admirable, no matter who it came from.

Still, that didn't amount to much in the way of mercy from Helix. He wrenched the hissing blade aside, scattering molten metal fragments of himself across the chamber. Several of these landed across the room's cheap office carpeting, starting several fresh blazes.

Helix's arm shot outwards to his right, stretching nearly half a dozen meters, and snagged the solidly-constructed durasteel desk console he'd been sitting at. With a screech of tortured metal, it came loose from the wall, hurtling and rolling towards them with terrible force. The room shook each time it bounced from the floor, sending sheets of dust and pulverized duracrete raining from the ceiling. Helix's humorless, mechanical smile widened a fraction.

The flames licked around his heels, adding emphasis to his nightmarishly-misshapen form. He could sit here and bathe in the fire all day, though it dawned on him that the Jedi was likely distracting him, keeping him from his duties.

Clever, very clever. And very dangerous. Still, it was a great deal more fun than white-collar crime.

 
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Only Eira's aura could match the chaos of her fighting style. It did so with aplomb.

Cerys used the length of her blade to swat away the approaching strikes. When the claws swiped for her stomach, Cerys jumped backwards, avoiding the strike by some metre or so. Her steps were grounded, careful, and she was sure to keep herself from getting back into a corner. But, she failed to press forward on attack.

Her stomach had not unknotted yet. No matter how much Eira claimed that she had always been this person, Cerys knew the truth. There had been light in her once. She was never a perfect angel. But the two of them had shared a loving bond as children. Hadn't they?

Cerys fumbled her next retreat, tripping over a crate. In her hurry, she moved her free had towards a different crate and then threw it at Eira. With a breath purchased, Cerys scrambled to her feet.

Eira was getting in her head, making her doubt the things she knew to be true. She knew there had been love between them.


 
ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ "ᴍɪꜱꜱ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ" ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

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The cut completed slowly.

Molten durasteel dripped in glowing tears from the widening seam, amber light bleeding through the wound in the door. The smell of scorched metal thickened the elevator air. Beyond it, she could feel them. So much fear. Simmering hatred. But also discipline. Their fingers tightening on triggers. Breathing held.

Ala did not rush.

Her blades remained buried in the door as the circle neared completion. She let the silence stretch. Let them wonder why she did not immediately burst through. Let the anticipation gnaw at them.

A tremor moved through the Force, subtle and deliberate. Then...the final connection gave way.

With a violent concussive wave, Ala unleashed a massive Force push. The severed slab of durasteel tore free and hurtled outward like a launched battering ram. It smashed into the ranks before the door, bodies scattering as it crashed into the far transparasteel windows. Fractures spiderwebbed across the glass in jagged constellations, but the barrier held.

Bedlam erupted.

Cries. The shriek of metal. Officers thrown from their feet. Consoles sparking as personnel dove for cover. Those loyal to the Sith shouted for fire. Those clinging to life due to Sith loyalist-inflicted wounds in the corner screamed. Through the chaos, Ala stepped through the hole in the door.

The hailstorm began instantly. Blaster bolts screamed toward her in a furious barrage, red and blue streaking through the room. And from the periphery of her awareness came the crackling surge of lightning, wild and hungry.

She did not flinch. The Force rose around her like a curtain.

A translucent sphere shimmered into existence, wrapping her in a bluish aura that bent light and violence alike. Blaster fire splashed against it in rippling waves, dissipating in sparks of harmless energy. Lightning struck the barrier and crawled across its surface in branching veins before dispersing in a hiss of ozone.

Within the orb, Ala moved with measured calm. Her eyes found the slab of durasteel embedded in the fractured window. She reached for it. Her motions were slow, purposeful and almost cautious.

The Force coiled around the torn metal, and with a sharp inward pull, she wrenched it free. It tore from the cracked transparasteel with a thunderous groan, dragging shards and debris with it as it rocketed back across the chamber.

Staff members scrambled, some diving flat against the floor, others crying out as the massive chunk tore through the air.

Ala’s focus narrowed. The slab became a weapon.

The durasteel hurtled toward the dark presence in the room, driven with such force that when it struck the wall, it embedded within it. If the dark sider moved in time was entirely their responsibility. Metal screamed against metal as the slab punched into the wall behind, crumpling consoles and sending shockwaves through the chamber. The impact reverberated through the tower’s bones.

For a moment, there was stunned silence.

Smoke drifted. Lights flickered. The spiderwebbed window creaked ominously.

Those officers still conscious stared at the Grandmaster encased in her luminous barrier, weapons trembling in their hands. Some faltered. Some lowered their rifles. Others, pale and shaking, hesitated in the terrible realization that they had just unleashed everything they had…and she had walked through it untouched.

Ala’s sabers hummed at her sides, their golden glow steady and unwavering. She did not advance.

She stood, radiant and immovable amid the wreckage, the eye of a storm she had summoned herself.

"Step aside and relinquish control of the communications array and no more harm shall befall you."


 


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"You say war does not belong here," he said with each step. "But you're the one who brought it here."

Pari raised an eyebrow at him, but still her face was passive and serene. Over a decade with the Chalactan Adepts had made her this way, but she would be lying if she did not admit that she was frightened of this individual.

"I have been here for weeks volunteering. The Sith are the ones burning their way through unwelcome."


He pulled his lightsaber on her and she felt her throat constrict slightly. This would be her first encounter with a darksider.


"Step away from the door. If you believe this place should remain untouched, then remove it from the equation."

His gaze held hers steadily.

"Fight me as a Jedi. Not as a shield."

"Why?"
Her question was simple, not sarcastic but earnest. What was the point of the fight today? Why had the Sith come to this planet? What was the reason for the endless war between the Jedi and the Sith? It all seemed so pointless and silly to the young girl, but she also would not allow the hospital to be attacked if she could help it. Pari didn't have a vested interest in this war. All she wanted to do was help others.

"I will give you what you want. Just spare the hospital. These people are defenseless."


Aerik Lechner Aerik Lechner
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The dust rose between them like a shroud. Shattered duracrete spiraled upward in a violent veil, swallowing light, turning the ruined avenue into a world of storm and shadow where lesser combatants would have fought blind. It didn't impede the Shadow Hand. Through the abyssal lenses of Xûl-Karzaan, sight was unnecessary. Motion revealed intent. The subtle shift of weight spoke louder than vision. The tightening of muscle, the cadence of breath, the minute alignment of posture, all unfolded before Him in layered clarity. The opening had been seen and He'd allowed the strike. Master San Tekka's shield gauntlet descended toward the Dark Lord's dominant wrist with flawless precision, a master's timing, disciplined and inevitable.

It struck.

Energy flared in a violent corona as shield met abyssal alloy. The impact rang like a cathedral bell through the storm-lashed street, force cascading through the Dark Lord's arm and into the pavement beneath His stance. Duracrete fractured outward in spiderweb fissures from the pressure of the exchange. Yet the weapon didn't leave His grasp. Xûl Qarnak remained in the Shadow Hand's hand, unmoved. The immense warblade shifted with the impact rather than against it, the blow absorbed through structure, leverage, and a will that didn't yield. Where another might have resisted, Prazutis simply endured, His stance devouring the force of the strike. Right in the same instant, He answered. His free hand moved scarcely a fraction, fingers closing as a concentrated telekinetic pressure surged outward, not to crush, not to throw, but to contest momentum, to interrupt rhythm, to reclaim the space between actions. To throw Zark off balance enough to seize momentum.

The duel didn't merely escalate but it transformed. The violence expected of a Sith didn't erupt in reckless fury. Instead, a deeper and more terrifying force emerged, a predatory current within the Dark Side itself. Power gathered around the Shadow Hand not as rage unleashed, but as controlled devastation, a storm bound by absolute will. What followed resembled Juyo, yet it was not the Juyo known to Jedi archives, nor the Vaapad of ancient masters. This was something darker. A perversion of the discipline. Where Vaapad channeled darkness through a controlled inner loop, Darth Prazutis unleashed it outward as a devouring vortex. His presence in the Force became a maelstrom of predatory entropy, feeding upon conflict, consuming opposition, and returning it as overwhelming pressure.

Emotion wasn't suppressed but weaponized. Every motion of the warblade became part of this expanding storm. Each strike carried layered intent, one vector to threaten, another to deny space, another to collapse structure, another to dominate the flow of battle itself. His bladework didn't simply seek to wound, but to overwhelm the totality of an opponent's defense, to consume momentum and convert it into further aggression. Resistance fed the storm. Conviction strengthened its pull. This was the doctrine later whispered among surviving witnesses as Dark Vaapad, a style created by the Dark Dyarchy, a state in which the wielder didn't merely meet an opponent's will, but devoured it, turning their strength into fuel for an ever-expanding tide of domination. The battlefield itself seemed drawn into the vortex of His presence. Voidshard distortions rippled outward from Xûl Qarnak, fracturing perception, distance uncertain, timing misaligned, the blade seeming to arrive before motion could be completed. Each exchange pressed forward with relentless pressure, not chaotic, but crushingly deliberate. Even the Force around Him reflected this storm. It did not simply strike outward, it seized, consumed, and returned power in a spiraling current that threatened to overwhelm structure, rhythm, and resolve alike.


The abyss didn't wait. It devoured. A measured step carried Him forward through the storm, the colossal warblade carving a controlled arc of blackened bloodfire through the dust, not a killing stroke, but an assertion of dominance over space itself to gore Zarks flesh.
A deeper gravity gathered around the Shadow Hand as the vortex of Dark Vaapad intensified, a presence that didn't merely oppose the light but sought to drown it beneath overwhelming force. Between the measured cadence of strikes, the Dark Lord's voice emerged through the storm, layered with abyssal resonance. "You speak of fate's design." The Shadow Hand said calmly. Another precise motion followed, controlled yet crushing in its intent. "I do not serve fate." Lightning split the heavens above Moorja's broken skyline. "I consume it. All flows in accordance with my design." Dust spiraled in violent currents around them as the storm howled like a living thing.

 



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Location: Moorja
Equipment: Jedi Robes, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Third Lightsaber, Marriage Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Jairdain Ismet-Thio Jairdain Ismet-Thio Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Balaya Praelior Zambrano Balaya Praelior Zambrano Syreeta Ming Syreeta Ming


Though Jax's usual cockiness threatened to resurface, he allowed it to go through him. A Jedi should not be taken in by the moment especially when there were people who were danger. Jair was still in danger and Connel was still engaging with the large Zeltron Sith whom Jax sensed tremendous power from. The woman in white left the battlefield which Jax wondering who she was. Hopefully they could meet again, but for now Jax needed to assist Connel immediately. The Jedi Master could feel Jair's calming presence around him, encouraging him, keeping him steady. "Hang on Connel!" Was what Jax wanted to say but he filled a shiver down his spine another disturbance in the Force.

Jax whipped around seeing Carnifex standing unharmed from Jax's barrage of attacks. "Damn!" Jax activated his Lightsaber but Carnifex unleashed spears comprised of black and white lightning firing them from all angles. Jax attempted to deflect them, but the lightning moved just as quick Jax's punches a split second earlier. Four Darkshear spears struck Jax, he screamed in pain as lightning licked his skin. He could feel his power draining as he as thrown to the wall.

"No...." Jax fell down face first his body covered in 3rd degree burns. Half of his robes were seared off. He attempted to get up but his body was as soft as jello.

I'm with you. I've got you. As long as I'm breathing.

"Jair....." Jax looked at his wife still calm, still fighting. His gaze then shifted towards Connel and he knew..... it was time.

"I'm not finished yet Dad!" Jax shouted spitting out dark blood in the process. A dark purple aura began to surround Jax as slowly got to his feet.
 

Tag: Valaine Valentine Valaine Valentine Kito Kito
Attire

If the wave Valaine had given seemed inappropriate, then the grin Reina gave in the direction of the pair was downright atrocious. Even surrounded with all of this chaos, the sight of her friends always brought a little amount of warmth and light to her heart. Which right now, that was something she needed to keep herself at ease. Her eyes darted over towards Kito as the K'paur asked how she was doing, and Reina bit her lip, debating how to answer said question. She could push off answering it, and say there was more important things to focus on...but she didn't want to push people away. not anymore.

"Could be better. Been wandering through the Galaxy picking up odd jobs, since the Jedi weren't for me. You two doing...good?"

Her eyes darted between the pair, keeping a smile on her face. Reina liked seeing Valaine with Kito, even if the redhead barely knew her, Reina trusted Kito enough to make sure Valaine would be safe...and for better or for worse, Valaine was one of the few friends that Reina trusted impeccably. Even if she was a so called "Terrible Friend."

"Having a hand could help. I've been taking as many people as I can to the shuttles. I think it'll only be a matter of time before this location starts getting attacked. The less people here for that, the better."

With Kito here, there was at least one lightsaber that would be able to deflect blaster bolts. Presumably Valaine would have one as well, but Reina wouldn't ask. Otherwise it would lead to the line of questioning asking where her lightsaber was...and she felt it would be difficult to explain that she had given her lightsaber, at least her Jedi one, to a Sith Queen. Though the next line of questioning was another she wished to avoid.

"Hm? I don't have much of a clue what's going on."

Truth.

"I was just here on a job, when all of this went to kark. I thought this was meant to be some kind of diplomacy thing."

Half-Truth. She left out the part where the job was for the Sith.

"Seems like the Sith have other plans. And..."

The Ersansyr trailed off for a moment, as she contemplated to herself. Who held her loyalty? Her allegiance? The Sith, the High Republic...or neither? She was already going against the Sith by helping these people, but that didn't quite slot her in with the High Republic either. Was it with the people? The people who were being shot out of the air like birds?

"...I have two choices for my own plans. Either I can stay here, helping people onto these shuttles...or I can try to go and deal with any of the guns on the ground. I can't ask you two to help me with that."

She couldn't exactly invite them to go into danger with her. In a way, it was still showing that no matter what Reina went through, she was still someone who wanted to protect others...even if it meant at the expense of herself.​
 
The droid started more fires elsewhere in the room. Soon Eloise's skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, both from the exertion of the duel and the heat of the flames. Smoke was a concern as well - if she inhaled too much, she'd be in trouble.

But for now she had bigger problems. The droid managed to pick up the busted console and hurled it at her. Eloise caught it with the Force right before it impacted with her body, stopping it in midair with telekinesis. She could've used it against her foe, but then he'd probably grab it again and keep tossing it until it was totally destroyed. Rather than get into a deadly game of tennis, she chucked the fried console out of its reach, continuing the fight with her lightsaber.

<"Lorik!"> she shouted into her comlink. <"There's a droid here trying to kill me. Anything you can do about it?">

Elsewhere in the building, Lorik received her message and began furiously typing on his computer. He traced Eloise's location, and from there found the droid. It's form in code was... odd, but not impenetrable. <"Yeah,"> he replied. <"Stand by...">

The Moorjan delegates probably wouldn't be happy about him spreading a virus through their local network, but they were traitors and it was the quickest route to his target. Lorik plugged a device into the computer and began transmitting something nasty... and conveniently wireless. The virus spread rapidly, attempting to infect not only the leftover remnants of Helix still in the system, but the droid as well.

 
Location: Moorja
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Ally: Sven Halestorm Sven Halestorm
Opposition: Darth Strosius Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar Lina Ovmar

The Sith Lord was fast on the defensive. It was not a sign that Lily wanted to see, she much rather someone who was sloppier and allowed them to gain the upper hand swiftly, but that was never really the case when she was getting into these fights. Arwr Da would be more effective fighting this Sith Lord then it would be against fighting a dozen very mediocre acolytes. And Lily was keen on demonstrating her skills as a capable fighter of Sith. They were going to have to recognise that people were rising up, Jedi were growing through war forging, and becoming far more dangerous in combat than ever before. Not just Lily, all of them.

The intensity of the Light Side burned as bright as a star through Lily and her Lightsaber. The Jedi Knight was feeling the connected energy shared with the crystals that she was closely attuned with. Sven would also benefit from the supportive energy as Lily switched momentum as she dodged the sword that stabbed right at her. The temptation to reach for her second blade was high but it was too early and all the Jedi Knight had to do was keep the pressure on. Keep attacking, keep pushing forward and making sure that whatever they had done to the tower was undone.

"I'm fine for now. Let's just make sure they learn to regret their actions here today." Lily called back to Sven as she maintained the balance and grace in movement naturally afforded to Echani. Stomping a kick towards Strosius's knee, there was a clear aim to weaken his limbs. "How are you coping, Sven?" Lily wanted to make sure that her companion was not out of his depth. It was easy to assume that everyone had experience or skills to handle fighting a Sith Lord but reality was that few survived their encounters.

In the past, it was mere luck that Lily had not died.

Now, she was determined to demonstrate that her skills were going to match and surpass any that stood in her way to bring about peace once again to the galaxy. Especially dangerous fighters.

Lily figured using Vaapad to harness the Dark Side energy of Darth Strosius against himself would be a solid move. It was not something that would win the fight in a few moves, nor would she look particularly flashy, but it was practical and the longer the fight went on, the better. It was also a good way to push back against the onslaught of intense Dark Side energy that came from the man.
 
Armour Mode: ASSASSIN
Equipment: Marwolaeth Ddu, Lethal Pursuers, Vibrosword, Blaster Pistol
Allies: TSO
Opposition: Cerys Dyn Cerys Dyn

Cerys was capable. That was all the more infuriating. If anything, it demonstrated that Eira needed to work harder to be even better. The Sith acolyte refused to allow her sister to upstage once more. Especially in an area where Eira was eager to demonstrate that she was going to be the best. Having a sister that rivals that, that challenges her... It was a form of weakness that Eira could not allow to exist. She needed to fight harder, the feral Sith growled like a wild predator.

Grabbing her two daggers, Eira rubbed them together. She needed to blind Cerys. Limit the field of vision so that Eira could get in close and get the killing blows in. To add to this, Eira activated the Taozin amulet to conceal her Force presence so that she would be harder to find. The Force would be Eira's ally here and she would demonstrate why it could never truly be Cerys's or any other Jedi's.

Rushing forward, Eira went for a low strike. Aiming for a slice against Cerys's leg. While it wasn't a deadly blow, it would be one that hurt a lot and weakened her sister. The darkness would not dissipate for a few seconds so there was going to be plenty of time to cut Cerys in a few more positions. "Holding back still. Good, makes it easier to kill you. I will not allow my family to hold me back any more. You, our parents. My parents. Weak and undeserving of my presence. I will kill them in due time."

Eira promising herself that as much as she was promising it to Cerys. She was going to make this Jedi regret ever thinking they could be on the same page. The burning fires of hatred only intensified towards the Jedi. They were training her sister to combat her. Allowing her sister to think she could talk Eira out of the fight.
 
If you need a label for me, then you don't know me
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DECEPTION
Moorja
Spire





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Flame. The corridor became a furnace. Golden twin blades hum through the firelight while the Zeltron stands flat-footed and amused. Walking arsenal. Yes. She is a blasted fortress of silicone...


Really?


Let me finish! … She is a fortress of silicone, polyfiber, durasteel, solarite, and the Force itself. Weapons layered on weapons. Darkness looped inward. Closed system. Self-contained ecosystem of violence.


That’s her weakness.


He slid through the flamethrower’s bloom, Force pushing heat sideways instead of back. The edges of what was left of his cloak ignited and burned so he tossed the whole thing away. He doesn’t extinguish them. He lets them fall.


He saw it now. She is not leaking darkness. She is recycling it. She isn’t feeding the spiral. She’s starving it. Vaapad won’t work. Good. He never intended to rely on it. The twin golden blades come alive.


Makashi.


Of course.


Elegant. Contained. Precision pressure. Predictable.


She adapted forms like she swaps weapons. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say a thing. She thought she had him, just like he wanted her to. Something shifted behind the visor. “Windu’s Guile” was gone. Shield gone. Armor gone, not using the nanotech armor yet… not yet.


Tools stripped.


Fine. That’s all that they were. He shifted his grip on “Dawn’s Light”. Long hilt. Two hands. Not for power. For control. Then—Jax screamed. Lightning spears cracked across the spire. The Force recoiled.


Carnifex.


Connel doesn’t look. He doesn’t need to. He feels Jax hit the wall. Feels Jair’s calm lattice strain. Feels the old gravity in the room. And for half a breath—There it is. That old whisper.


“You’re not him…


... You’re not Caltin…


…You can’t hold this much.”






And then memory surfaces. Not grand. Not heroic.


Just quiet.


Alderaan. Sanctuary Island/Shadow Sanctuary Training yard. Sun on stone. Quiet. Sunny. Beautiful. Intense. Caltin standing across from him.

You think strength is lifting more than the man beside you. A grin. It isn’t.


Caltin tapping Connel’s forehead. It’s carrying what he drops.


Another memory layered beneath.


Chrysa’s voice.

If you are stronger than your father… A cold smile.…prove it by surviving longer.





Back to the present.

Balaya’s wraiths encircle tighter. Her flamethrower sputters out. Golden blades advance with Makashi precision. She no doubt thinks he is reacting.


So, he stopped moving. Just for a heartbeat. Not frozen. Centered. The Force doesn’t surge. It condensed. He realized something— He has never fought without restraint.


Vendaxa.

Implants.

Armor.

Shield.

Omega loadout.

Always reinforcing.


Always compensating.


Always managing damage.


He has never let the Force carry him fully because he was afraid of what that meant. Afraid of becoming too much like something else. Now? Armor is gone. Limits are gone. And what remains isn’t rage. It’s clarity.


When she lunged, no matter the dozens of different attacks she would somehow throw at the same time, it would not matter. He would not parry traditionally. A sidestep half an inch here, a duck there. A flick of the wrist with the Force added. She thought she was playing with him, like some kind of toy. Let her. It was her failure. .


His lightsaber rotated vertically with each move, not trying anything, simply taking what she threw at him and defending it.


Left hand releases hilt.


Palm opens.


Crush.


Not at her.


At the air behind her.


Force compression detonates backward, disrupting her center of gravity without touching her directly. Any thrust hers overextended by a fraction. That fraction is enough.


No matter her move, his defense, rotate inside her reach. Permafrost blade arcing upward— Not for throat. For the seam beneath her left collar where the chest repulsor channels. Clean. Measured. Still playing the game that he thought she was linked to her gadgets.


He doesn’t press advantage. Instead— Electric Judgment flickers again. Not aimed at her artifacts this time. At the floor beneath her. Ionized arc spreads in a web around her boots. Destabilizing Her stance. She’s good. Very good. He feels it. And he understands now— He is stronger in the Force than she anticipated but that doesn’t mean overpower. It means precision.


He shifted again. This time not Soresu. Not Vaapad. Something quieter. Hybrid doctrine. Guardian core. Shadow discipline. He disappeared from her immediate perception for half a blink. Alter Environment. Not teleporting. Just withdrawing presence.

Then reappearing inside her arc as “Dawn’s Light” snapped into dual-phase mid-swing, length extending unexpectedly and carving through the flamethrower housing on her vambrace.

If she had a fuel line, a landed shot would rupture it. If there was no line, or she would retract no doubt instinctively. He’d simply step through the smoke.

Contact again.

She likes contact.

So does he.

But this time—

He won’t just restrain.

He’ll channel through the contact. A focused, inward Force pulse. Not repulse. Not blast. Compression. Into her shoulder joint. To microfracture through plating and underlying alchemical reinforcement.


A tactical rend… he can play that game too


A slight push.


He breaks contact and steps back. He’s not containing, releasing or restraining anything, he’s just stopped holding back. Behind him, Jax was rising in purple aura. Carnifex was pressing. The battlefield was shifting again.


Connel felt it. He did not panic. He did not rush to overextend. He adjusted. Because Caltin was wrong about one thing. Strength is not carrying what the other drops. Strength is knowing when not to drop anything yourself.


He turned slightly—Just enough that his body shielded civilians still within line of sight.


Golden blades hum before him.


Permafrost crackles in response.


Wraiths circle.


Balaya smiles.


Carnifex storms.


Jax burns.


And Connel—For the first time—Feels no weight on his shoulders.


Not because it’s gone.


Because he can carry it.

You're next, big man...


 
Allies: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor

He moved through the flames and she remained still, there was anger, there was rage but it was hers and hers alone. The sensation of the force coming off of him kept her still not in the fear one might have but in the sheer thrill of a fight like this. Balaya had been conducting the fight like a trip she never bothered to leave calm, methodical, and utterly indifferent to how much noise the jedi made. She began with simple confrontation: every time Connel closed the distance or tried to dictate terms with a precise strike or force pulse, she met him not with equal aggression but with the quiet certainty that he was already trapped inside her range.

No grand declarations, no wasted swings just the presence of her armor, her wraiths, and her unmoving stance saying, 'You're here now. There is no outside.' From that point she developed the theme without ever raising her blades: every deflected saber arc, every repulse that answered his palm slams, every casual reveal offered the same unspoken justification that his resistance only prolongs the inevitable. She never argued, rarely taunted; she simply let the jedi repeat his methods until the inevitable became manifest. Whenever he tried to deny her control sidestepping, redirecting heat, compressing air or launching judgment. She was ready to interrupt those with minimal effort:

Each objection he raised be it a new form, a surprise extension, a philosophical jab was met with flat monotony that never needed her to raise a hand or break focus. She overcame every attempt at resistance by minimizing its impact in real time: a launcher that stayed functional, a barb fire that protected the implant beneath, a shoulder blade strike met badonkadonk repulse energy instead of yielding. Nothing was dramatic. Nothing was personal in this. Just observed fact layered on observed fact until his energy expenditure became the only thing that mattered. And all the while she created the space for the only outcome she ever intended: the moment when constant reaction would leave him no choice.

To yield not out of fear, not out of pain, but because the truth had become undeniable. She never asked him to stop. She never needed to. She simply kept the room exactly the size it had always been, let him run every tactic he wanted, and waited for the instant he realized the door had never been unlocked. Connel would recognize the structure eventually. Nine deliberate steps, delivered without flourish or malice, the same way a seasoned interrogator lets silence and repetition do the real work. By then the energy differential would already be terminal. She was thinking it in the moment as he came inwards towards her now.

The slashes for a moment, towards her gauntlets vambrace as the shield activated as it had earlier to handle dueling. The saber striking it as the round shield repelled it back. A flash, a shadow movement and he was slicing upwards as she raised an eyebrow. The snap-hiss of the sternum clasp saber gleamed. From below how it had been pointed to catch him and she tilted her head to the side for a moment looking at him. Her footing disrupted for a moment when she lept back to gain some distance with his next electric judgment lashing. Her boots grounded for when her old master needed to release some stress as they didn't conduct.

He was moving faster now without armor and she still didn't raised her blades or strike letting him leap... his hand come to rend her pauldron as the launcher fired another barb and she pivoted. Her stillness and rage working to keep herself standing tall at the ready. "Oh lay." Her words came out less as a shout or curse and more she was making it into a small moment. Letting her body adjust for a moment when she grounded her feet and form again. Blaades at the ready but still she wouldn't strike. Economy of movement, conservation of energy being used to fuel her strength. SHe waited the fraction of a heartbeat as her wraiths were at her back now before tilting her head just a moment.

The barest movement, was all they needed to surge forward two of them passing through her as they were made from her energy for the moment. Their hands and teeth going forward before she held the blades to her side for a moment... The sternum blade deactivating while she braced. Her stance and hands went forward for a moment. Allowing the wraiths to morph.. the twist and turn while their forms darkened with a shadowed edge. The darkshear turning each of them into a focused bolt of darkside destruction that was going towards the man. Impacting the floor and air near him to try and sending him flying back into the air and through the wall as they were making a massive hole through it.

The wraiths continued to move forward as she focused the darkside and could feel Kaine, could feel the other who seemed to be gearing up for something and another one was fleeing... hmmm her mind was looking more at it as she returned her stance to the ready with gorgo holding one of the delegates as Balaya's hand came out and she was drawing at the lifeforce of the woman. Making her scream before she fell to the ground and gorgo lifted her up. If nothing else she would function on the rack as her blade remained activate, at her side in a neutral makashi stance.. she was prepared for more attacks and strikes that might be coming when she checked over it all.

Balaya stood motionless amid the settling dust and flickering embers, twin golden blades still held low in Makashi guard, their hum the only steady sound in the fractured corridor. Her head tilted fractionally, not in curiosity but in simple observation. The wall behind him and the smoke gaped wider now, a ragged mouth of twisted durasteel and exposed wiring. The vambrace on her left forearm gave a soft mechanical click as barrels cycled. No flourish, no warning. A single mini-proton torpedo slid into place, propellant igniting with a muted hiss. She raised the arm in a straight, unhurried line almost casual and fired.

The projectile streaked forward in a tight silver arc, detonating against the already-weakened floor in front of where Connel might be with a sharp, contained thunderclap. Shrapnel sprayed outward in a controlled cone, debris raining across the open space, the floor buckling further under the fresh crater. She lowered the arm. The vambrace reset with a faint whine. Still no smile, no satisfaction. Just the same flat readiness, blades poised, wraiths drifting closer in the smoke. She had a moment though as she didn't turn, she wasn't going to dishonor a warrior like that and pretend he was dead if he was alive. Her eyes narrowed but remained prepared for more battling.

"Gorgo collect what was discarded, we'll see about replicating the jedi to show respect of his prowess. Like the abbadons." She said it and Gorgo nodded her head as the ones who remained there were still making noise but she wasn't going to finish them. They were Kaine's by his plan.. she was only keeping the one whom she had drained enough. That one was hers for now and the armor she would use it as she could before motioning gorgo to go with the wendol back towards the ship. She made sure she was between the exiting commander and anything that might be coming with her blades at the ready. Her stance going back to focused and prepared for an attack as it shifted towards niman with one reverse grip and the other forward facing.
 



Lily’s grip shifted on the quarterstaff as his gaze moved from Zaiya to her; the weight of his gaze made her feel small.

“You noticed,” he said, his tone level.

His eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor behind her before returning to her face. “The open path.”


“Yeah, I noticed.” She said softly, reaching a hand down towards the BD Unit Zaiya had called Domxite and lifting it to her shoulder. She was trying not to get distracted by the colours that shifted across Zaiya’s skin, it was as hypnotic as it was beautiful. Her jaw set and she stepped towards the two dignitaries and the guard who eyed her warily.

Feelings mutual, she thought before shoving prejudice to one side. “I can get us past him, but I can only do it one at a time.” She didn’t want to tell them it was likely a trap. It was the clearest way and when it stopped being the clearest path she would find another one for them.

“Domxite,” she said to the droid, “Can you map all possible routes to my ship, I’d like back ups.”

She looked between the two dignitaries picking the one whose jaw was set in determination. “You first.” she said quietly linking his arm with hers and watching the Jedi Padawn as she approached, her skin dancing with colours, her tone light and conversational, like she was out for a stroll in a park and not walking towards a head of the Sith Order.

Lily took in a breath, extending herself in the force, wrapping it tightly around herself and the dignitary, as Zaiya struck she folded space around them blinking from sight as she teleported them down the corridor behind Gerwald, trusting that he would be occupied enough by the glowing girl. She pushed the man down into an alcove. “Stay.”

She blinked again, grabbing the Guards arm this time. “When I get you over there, you are going to start moving. Dom will guide you.” As she said it the little droid hopped to his shoulder. “I will be right behind you.”

She didn't bother to wait for a distraction this time, folding the world around them again, landing where she’d left the dignitary.

“Go.” she hissed at them, turning back to check the fight.


 

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