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

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Allies: Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Connel Vanagor

He moved, his bladework was skilled in its own way. He knew there was power and few could match her in terms of the physical. His movement to get in and close to her as his shoulder came up and impacted the shoto saber at her sternum containing all zzz of her. She had been given the moniker from Kaine of emperors bust for a reason. Her eyes remained on him though as he seemed to understand a little. One handedly moving and directing her blade to test and probe her vambrace. She pivoted her footwork as the heel spikes anchored her with it allowing her to move better but present herself as a wall. Her blade going toward the one she had marked as she guessed what he wanted.

The slash came, fingers on the floor and the man was screaming as he and the others were sent back and she brought her free hand up as he disengaged and kicked up flooring. A barrier. Her hand went to her head as she spoke. "Oh... oh no, my weakness... the pain... the pain... is gone." She looked across the flooring while standing there with a small look on her face of darker humor. Her look at him as he was making space was more bemused while she kept the one handed djem so grip.. her stance remaining as she stepped away and the anchor points of her heels allowing her to reinforce her stance in areas.

She was about to speak when his name was shouted and her eyes looked for a moment. Seeing Kaine being attacked with a look of confusion for a moment. "Anyways." She said it and turned while she stayed there for a moment. Her choker gleamed the crystal but she had more. The mechanical sound of the vambraces other mechanisms came out with a small pop. Several whistling birds going through the cloud he had made to deny her leverage. Her other hand as it gripped the saber sliding one of the smaller blades along the hilt of her saber when she tossed it. The blades great for smaller gaps. She could feel the akure implants charged again while she remained there in a defensive stance.

She maintained eye contact though while she followed and used the two moves to delay.. to strengthen her own base and if soresu was about direction and controlling the fight... djem so was about economy of movement... stamina was never the issue but she was a wall compared to many of the others as she was reaching out. Her own darkside tendrils going to the corpses that were around from the assassins and the jedi. Each one cut down as her words started small. A small echo but she didn't make a habit of talking... she wasn't a Dunmoch user trying to erode will be was a fist smashing through. The echo though came from the stone.

"Nu tas kots winit kash tave suts, Tave tsis kash kots mauti tave jidai, Nu chid tave j'and nu kots mauti, Dzari nu kots maut, tave mauti nwâti." The voice unnatural but it was clear beforee she was moving and prepared. The first one raised a hand for a moment before his body seemed to scream, soundlessly... the force energies ripped from it and forming shimmering shadows in the dark that daanced and contorted. Wraith like beings having form but they wrapped around debris and crawled on bellies... scurried as too many limbs appeared on some. The jedi had... an idea of what she could do but she had worked for something else when it came to eliminating and dealing with them.

A moment passed though as the first attacks came, then the wraiths forming around to catch him on the sides if he tried for that. The small tunnel she had formed was important to it as the barrier he used was used more to make a small contention point but she didn't need to move. Her grin forming for a moment when she looked towards his gauntlets and armor. The focus on that while she wanted the wraiths distracting him... the explosions dodged, the blades avoided, the wraiths slashed.. she could see it in her eyes as she thought about it and focused one action towards him. "Rend." She went for mental pressure not to his mind, trying it for his suit, the limbs, the plates of armor. Trying to pry them open

 

[Feng Huang]

Kasir Dorran​

Feng was focused on her mantra, harnessing the Light within herself, as the doors opened she almost stepped out, a dark throb of warning stopped her. Something was waiting for her, in anticipation, a dark serpent, waiting to strike, as if hidden beneath a rock, coiled and ready to strike as soon as she stepped wrongly before it.

Feng ignited her lightsaber and cautiously stepped out, taking comfort in it's light. It wasn't much, but it was a reminder even in the most oppressive darkness imaginable there was still light in the galaxy. Feng took firm hold of that belief as she called out into the darkness.

"Step out and face me if you dare." She hated how her voice quivered as she said it. She scowled at herself, now was not the time to give in to her fears. Feng focused her mind the same way she would apply it to a problem.

Whoever was present, to be able to hide in the shadows like this showed prodigious talent in the dark side. Feng wasn't childish enough to deny she was afraid, but she was determined, she took a tighter grip on her lightsaber raised in a defensive guard as she stepped out of the elevator, eyes roaming searching for the threat in whatever form it may come.

If she should fall she would fall a Jedi, facing the dark not cowering from it. She was also fiercely determined to do some damage before that should happen. Feng's eyes glinted, a small smile played on her lips.

Yes she was afraid, but then that was half the fun. To be on the edge of life, was to be afraid. If there was no fear there was no thrill. Feng might fall this day, she may not, but either way she would fight. Feng never felt more alive than when she was fighting.

 

[Shade]

Shade lay half-buried in dust and fractured stone, her breath shallow and uneven, every inhale scraping like sandpaper against the grit in her lungs. The burns along her legs throbbed with a relentless, white-hot intensity, radiating upward in waves that made the world shimmer and blur at the edges of her vision. She tried, just once, to shift her weight, but the agony flared into a sharp scream in her nerves, pinning her down.

It wasn't that the connection to her limbs was gone; it was simply that her body had reached its limit, the sheer weight of the pain anchoring her to the debris.

So she stayed where she was, one arm slack at her side, the other braced weakly against the ground, watching through the drifting haze as the heat finally began to bleed out of the street. For a long moment, there was only the ringing silence of the aftermath.

Then the rubble moved.

Her crimson eyes snapped toward the sound. Stone shifted, and fragments slid away as a broken gauntlet clawed out of the debris, fingers scraping desperately for purchase. Shade's breath caught in her chest as Varin began to pull himself free, shattered armor and burned flesh emerging inch by inch from the collapsed structure.

For the first time since the fight had begun, a cold, precise fear flickered through her. It wasn't the frantic panic of the helpless, but a clinical awareness of her own depletion. She could not rise. She could not run. She could barely lift her blade.

And he was still moving.

She tracked him with predatory focus as he staggered upright, wounded, burning, but with hatred still blazing behind that monstrous gaze. Her jaw tightened as she listened to his broken declarations, the remnants of his fury dragging themselves out of his lungs. Every leaden step he took toward her felt like a countdown.

When he finally dropped to his knees, her shoulders sagged despite the agony. When his blade slipped from his fingers to clatter against the stone, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. And when he finally collapsed forward, his body surrendering to the trauma, Shade closed her eyes for a fleeting second in quiet, involuntary relief.

It was over. Not cleanly, and certainly not easily, but the silence had finally returned.

Forcing her eyes open, she fought through the fog of exhaustion to focus on the task at hand. Her hand fumbled at her belt, fingers clumsy and trembling as she keyed her comm.

"Central," she said, her voice a hoarse rasp that she forced into a mold of professional control. "This is Agent Tal'voss."

She swallowed hard, tasting ash and copper.

"I have multiple casualties. One hostile down and alive. Severe injuries. Possible Force manifestation. I need medical evac immediately and a containment team."

She tried to shift, but a sharp hiss escaped her as the burns on her legs flared in protest. She gritted her teeth, her voice hardening.

"Bring Force restraints. Full suppression cuffs. And a visual inhibitor, a blindfold rated for energy projection. His eyes are a weapon."

Her gaze never drifted from Varin's crumpled form.

"Do not approach him without containment," she warned. "He is unstable and still dangerous."

There was a brief crackle of a response; she nodded faintly to the empty air.

"Coordinates are transmitting now."

As the channel closed, she let her head fall back against the jagged rubble. Dust clung to her lashes and hair, streaked with the dark lines of blood and ash. Her legs were a ruin of fire, still refusing to obey her command to stand, but she no longer tried to force the issue. The urgency had passed, replaced by the grim vigil of the victor.

Instead, she simply watched. She watched Varin's shallow heaving, watched the settling fog, and watched the ruined street where everything had nearly ended. She stayed conscious, dragging herself through the pain, because she had learned long ago that surviving the fight was only the first half of victory.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Zaiya Ceti | Lily Rhodes | Rik Perris

The corridor leading toward the western port pulsed under emergency lighting, red illumination sliding across durasteel walls in slow intervals. Smoke drifted from a ruptured conduit near the ceiling, and somewhere deeper in the structure blaster fire cracked in short, uneven bursts before dissolving into uneasy quiet.

At the junction of two passageways stood Gerwald Lechner.

He had positioned himself where forward momentum would have to become decision. The path behind him remained visibly clear, open enough to tempt belief.

Zaiya came around the bend at speed and then stopped.

Her robes settled in a soft whisper against the deck plating as the diplomat nearly collided with her back before catching himself. The Republic guard moved instinctively to her side, weapon raised but uncertain. His breathing carried through the corridor, sharper now, edged by fear he was trying to master.

The Padawan’s bioluminescence shimmered against the red emergency glow, bending alarm into living color. Determination radiated from her without concealment. The Force moved openly around her, bright and emotional, and when her awareness brushed against his presence it recoiled slightly at the compression waiting there.

Gerwald did not move.

Gold eyes studied her as one might study a blade before deciding how it would cut.

“Padawan Zaiya Ceti.”

Her name left him evenly as he tried it out.

She asked him to step aside.

“No.”

The refusal was calm and unforced.

The pressure in the corridor deepened, subtle but unmistakable. It was not violence. It was weight. The air felt denser. The space between them narrower than the architecture suggested. He did not reach for his lightsaber. His hands remained folded behind his back.

When Lily stepped from the adjoining shadows, Gerwald’s gaze shifted to her without haste. There was no surprise in the movement, only recognition. She carried herself differently than the Padawan, less radiant and more deliberate, tension already mapped toward angles of retreat and advantage.

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

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

A distant detonation tremored through the structure, the vibration rolling beneath their boots and rattling loose debris from an overhead seam. The emergency lighting flickered and then steadied again, casting the scene in red once more.

Gerwald returned his attention to Zaiya.

“If you intend to pass,” he said evenly, “then you may try.”

He did not shift his footing or widen his stance. The space behind him remained visible, unobstructed in appearance, yet the weight in the corridor persisted. It was not a barrier one could see. It was a boundary one could feel.

The guard’s breathing grew tighter. The diplomat swallowed audibly.

Gerwald Lechner remained where he was, gold eyes steady, presence contained rather than unleashed, waiting to see whether conviction would translate into action.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Lina Ovmar / Lily Decoria / Sven Halestorm
--------------------------------------------

As Lina stepped up beside Him, Darth Strosius idly surveyed the scene about to unfold in front of them. The dim lights from auxiliary alarms which flashed and cast long shadows in their brief bursts of illumination, the panicking crowds who sought any familiar territory or sources of light amidst the darkness, and of course the creatures about to descend upon them. Himself potentially included in that latter part, He wasn't lying about being a bit peckish.

Yet as always He found Himself distracted by the woman at His side, meeting her remark with a click of His tongue and the kiss with a slight tilt of His head so that she didn't have to raise herself up as far. "And I am very flexible. Outside of this armor, which stays on during business. See the conflict of interest there?" The masked man couldn't help the smarm that wormed its way into His tone but His attention was rather quickly shifted away from Lina to something far less welcome.

Two somethings that were far less welcome to be exact.

At the edge of His senses, pricks of light that were distinct from the chaos and now pain of the trapped spaceport denizens, and they were closing in fast. The first batch of would-be escapees had already arrived it seemed. How exciting. Darth Strosius turned on His heel and noted Lina's new spot with a roll of His eyes. "I can already feel the headache they're going to give me, but if you insist."

It had been quite some time since He'd gotten the chance to trade barbs with a Jedi He supposed. He could entertain them for a moment or two, even as the datapad was slipped into His robes and exchanged for the hilt of His lightsaber. His other hand rested on the handle of His sword as He entered the room and stood across from Lina expectantly.

 

[Sven Halestorm]

Lily Decoria | Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar​

Sven sighed as he looked towards Lily as she began launching herself up the banister and moving her way up to the control room.

Taking a small device from his belt, he aimed it up and hit the selector button on the device activiting it. A small hook shot forth from the end of the small device and launched its way towards the ceiling, sailing up until the claw made contact with the roof, the claw magnetizing to the durasteel as Sven pulled on the reinforced line attached to check its grip on the ceiling.

Attaching the device back to his belt, he let his finger find purchase on another button, toggling the switch as he began to repel upwards, not as fast as his companion, but saved much of the ease of attempting to save what endurance he had.

His feet found purchase on the landing as he reached the top of the tower shortly behind Lily, disconnecting the line from his belt as he moved beside his companion.

"No need to rush into this too headfast, our strength should be saved for the forthcoming struggle."

Unclipping his saber from his belt, he ignited it once more, a soft breath escaping his lips as he composed himself for a short moment before his eyes flicked up towards the door.

"I think we are as ready as we can be.... no time like the present."

Sinking his blade into the terminal next to the door, the emergency latch hissed open, the doors sliding apart as the control room was exposed to the pair of Jedi.

"Sorry to crash the party, we were upset we weren't invited."

Sven let his robe fall, more practical garb underneath as his eyes flicked toward the pair,

"Ladies first."

Before rebutal his eyes flashed towards Lina Ovmar , his left hand flicking up from his side as he pushed a wave towards her before he jumped towards her, his blade arcing down towards her.

It's Too Early For This​

 

[Lily Decoria]

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

Lily watched as the other Jedi seemed to have a grapple cable long enough to reach the roof of the tower. That was not something that Lily thought would be possible to have since they generally are limited to a few feet. But it made sense to use it if one had such technology. Lily did not have anything like that on her person. "I'll have to look into having such things on my utility belt in the future." Lily stated to Sven as she responded to his statement.

Sven then jumped into action and opened the hatch into the control room. Lily was surprised he was ready to leap into action but it made sense. There was little other prep work that could be done. The Jedi Knight focused on Force Valor and a Force Barrier on herself. Improving her reflexes further than they were already but also ensuring that she had a level of protection that her attire did not afford her. Lily was never going to be someone wearing full armour and using that to protect her from anything and everything. It would always be too heavy and too bulky. She much rather focus on honing her skills to ensure the Force granted the best protection it could and allow her skills to handle any attempting to attack her.

As they entered the room, Lily spotted the pair. She noted the Sith Lords and that they were two that she was not familiar with. But that did not mean much, beside the fact that it allowed them to be more dangerous than a known threat. A known threat was someone that Lily could handle, could predict and outfox. This was going to be a fight where Lily had to learn, adapt and control as it went along. Something much harder and required more time, which was not ideal when the plan was to get people safely evacuated from here.

Holding the crossguard Lightsaber, Lily watched as Sven jumped into action. Claiming ladies first... Which possibly suggested that he was stating himself to be the lady? Lily didn't ponder that too much, instead, she lunged forward towards Strosius. Her speed unnaturally fast as she pushed forward and sliced in an upwards diagonal slice. Aiming to cut Strosius from his hip to his shoulder.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Darth Strosius Lily Decoria Sven Halestorm​

A smirk curved her lips at Alisteri’s response giving a small hum of appreciation. “I can’t imagine how restricting that must be. Perhaps I’ll fix that for you later, ki sosûtudas.” she purred, her attention shifting towards the light presences rising rapidly towards them.

When the door slid aside and the two Jedi entered Lina did not move from her perch against the console, she simply regarded them with a tilt of her head, obsidian eyes glittering in the glowing light of the alarms. The man leapt for her in the wake of a wave of telekinetic force.

Lina dropped a hand, almost casually, sending her own to intercept it, the two forces colliding in the middle of the room with a resounding crack as it split the tiled floor. Her other hand raised, lifting a barrier with it that stalled his strike before it could land.

Holding the barrier in place she made a show of inspecting her nails on her free hand. ”Honestly, this is incredibly disappointing. No introductions, no offer of a chance to change my mind or ways. What are they teaching Jedi these days? Clearly, it is not manners.”

The fingers of her hand curled a dark tendril rising beside her, poised like cobra ready to strike. “You didn’t even pause to assess the threat you were facing and that,” she said finally looking at him, “That is a mistake that will cost you dearly.”

The tendril shot forward, aiming for centre mass.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

The droid ate the fire like it was nothing. Figures. It had been a gamble, one that didn't pay off. Now the nerf herder was mutating, growing claws and fangs and swinging at her with something like a sword.

She parried the blow and thrust her lightsaber toward its maw, trying to bust its teeth in. How the hell was she supposed to fight this thing? It was probably well beyond her abilities to defeat, but Eloise wasn't the type to back down from a battle. Much less against a stupid robot.

Well, she'd busted the console. Mission accomplished. Now all she needed to do was keep this thing occupied and prevent it from accessing any more systems...

Eloise Dinn​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

DECEPTION
Moorja
Spire

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • The Starlight Sentinel
  • "Jedi Defender" Corvette
  • Null Vector
  • X-wing
  • Speeder
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Mask
  • Right Gauntlet
  • Left Gauntlet
  • Nano-Tech Armor (For Emergencies)
  • Headset Microphone Comm-Link
  • Mobile "Bodycam" Datapad
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • Throwing Lightknives
  • Force Blinding Flashbangs
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

She wasn’t testing his guard anymore. She was testing his logistics. He clocked it instantly. Whistling birds cutting through the debris cloud. Thrown blade to force angle correction. Wraith constructs forming from harvested death. Chant language.
Not Dun Möch.
Invocation.

He adjusted. This wasn’t saber work now. This was room control. Kill zone. He stepped into the small corridor she had shaped instead of backing out of it. Omega Squad doctrine: If you’re in the funnel, own the funnel. The first whistling bird screamed toward his left flank. He didn’t swing at it. He dropped to one knee and let it overshoot while Force-flicking a fragment of shattered pillar into its path.

Detonation behind him.

Shockwave rolled.

He absorbed it through stance. The thrown secondary blade spun toward his hip seam. He twisted just enough that it glanced off reinforced plating instead of finding soft joint. Not perfect. But survivable. Then the wraiths came. He didn’t look at them like enemies.

He looked at them like smoke with teeth.

Peripheral threats. Designed to overload attention. He narrowed his world. Primary threat: Balaya. Secondary: armor compromise. Tertiary: civilian vector integrity. He shifted “Dawn’s Light” into reverse grip. Shorter arcs. Close-in control.

The first wraith lunged.

He didn’t cut it clean. He dispersed it with a tight, circular blade movement, minimizing splash of energy instead of cleaving through it. Don’t feed the field. The second came low. He stomped forward, Force-anchoring his boots so its impact slid off him like water over stone. She was watching his armor. He felt it before she spoke.

“Rend.”

The pressure wasn’t mental intrusion. It was mechanical tension. Micro-separation along seam lines. Gauntlet joint strain. Neural implant flicker. She wasn’t attacking his mind. She was trying to unzip him.

Clever.

He didn’t fight it outward. He compressed inward. Force pulled tight to his core instead of pushing out. He treated his armor like a single object instead of articulated pieces. Unified field. Omega Squad habit. You don’t think of your kit as separate from you. You move as one unit. The seam tension eased slightly.

Not gone. Managed.

He stepped forward through the wraith interference instead of away from it. Close the distance.
Djem So wants mid-range power. Wraith harassment wants lateral motion. So he denied both. He closed. Inside her effective arc. No room for hammer strike. No room for wide pressure.

“Dawn’s Light” came up not for a strike—

But for a lock against her hilt hand.

His last Lightknife available ignited for half a heartbeat and snapped downward, not at her body—At her ankle.

Not cutting.

Pinning.

Blade pressed flat against the inside of her heel anchor spike. If she tried to surge forward—
She’d trip her own base. If she tried to pivot— She’d lose that planted stability she valued. He leaned in close enough that his visor reflected in her aurodium headband.

You’re shaping the room, he said quietly. So am I.

Behind him, another wraith lunged. He didn’t turn. He shoulder-checked her, using her own mass to intercept the strike. The wraith hit her aura instead of his. Disruption. Minimal. But symbolic.

Her tendrils were harvesting death. So he stopped creating death. When an assassin tried to rise from the debris, he didn’t finish him. He Force-pushed the body down the corridor, away from the engagement zone. Move the harvest field. Deny fuel.

She had probably expected aggression escalation at this point.

Instead she got structural denial.

The pressure on his armor increased again. Seam torque. Gauntlet stress. Left shoulder servo grind. He adjusted grip. Exhaled. Redirected force not outward— But through the floor. Grounding.

Let the building take some of the shear. Vendaxa implants hummed in his nervous system. Pain spike. Ignored. She wanted him reactive. He went clinical.

Omega mindset now: Break sequence. She chants. She builds. She harvests. She compresses. So he interrupted timing. He extinguished his saber. Sudden darkness. Unexpected. Then stepped hard into her space and drove a headbutt straight into her headband artifact.

Not to break skull.

To disrupt focus.

Impact.

Crack of aurodium. If successful: Artifact flicker. Wraiths destabilized for half a breath. That was all he would need. “Dawn’s Light” would snapp back on and he would slice the floor again—

But this time not to shield. To drop. He’d cut a narrow trench under her lead foot and kick it inward. If she recovered instantly, good. If not, he’d take the angle. He wasn’t trying to defeat her cleanly.
He was trying to dislocate her rhythm. Above them, the clash of Carnifex and Jax detonated another structural beam. He didn’t look. Trust. Verify later. Right now: Contain. Disrupt. Starve. Protect. She thought she was a wall.

He was erosion.

Ala Quin • Jairdain Ismet-Thio • Jax Thio • Feng Huang • Darth Carnifex • Balun Arenais-Dashiell • TAGS • ARE • OPEN
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Allies: Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Connel Vanagor

Her eyes were tracking, the force was there and he moved. Kneeling for a moment to kick up debris, adjusting his stance to deflect the blade while coming at her. Smart in some cases and she was reinforcing her own stance. The energies solidifying in her muscles and bones... her hair even lightly dancing as if in a breeze for a moment as the smell of the explosions came and she saw one of the wraiths dispersed as it shimmered with the body it had been ripped from turning to dust. She had a small invigoration as the energy she had used returned to her. Darkside animation was costly in the larger scale but small scale like this was easy. She had reanimated the massacre on Coruscant and alderaan when they had body counts in the millions.

The movement as he was adapting and trying to minimize the rend of his armor was there, her eyes still tracking him in the force and her own empathy to sense and feel the coldness of his emotions. His closing in, hand going up to restrain her wrist and saber as she looked at him full on. It was intimate, almost secret for a moment as she flexed her muscle in her forearm. He restrained her but that meant contact and contact meant.... shlick. The retractible plates of the talons going back from her fingers along the underside like teeth to try and bite at the armored hand. The springing of the underside barbs of the armor she could use for grip and to direct into small firing arcs. This close she could release them almost pinpoint blank into his hand.

She still had her other hand free, benefit of a one handed grip as his free hand was bringing a knife towards her ankle and she moved with it. Letting it impact the plating of her boot, sliding along the ankle towards the heel spike as her eyes lit up. The small knee barbs releasing with a compressed release of illerium to send them up and towards his chest and stomach. The second and third illerium compression as it came from her heels. The pressurized heels releasing and sending her knees up with a high impact release towards his groin and legs. The closeness, the risk was there but he was getting so close as the slicewire hooks under her chest armor released moving to try and keep him anchored to her.

His attack wasn't done yet as the force was accelerating all of their reactions and movements. The smallest muscle twitches, the seconds dragged on aas his head came up to her headband and she returned it. The high impact on the alchemical aurodium sending a shockwave that had her grinning much more wickedly. This close and the only place not fully accounted for was their free hands on the same side. She was tucking her knees into his chest while pushing their forheads together and using the leverage and impact to flip them. To roll into a ball as her free hand adjusted for just a moment. The muscle flexing and a blade ejecting when she moved to stab it directly into his arm and in towards the shoulder.

The wraith coming at her didn't disperse as it passed through her. The chill raising tiny hairs along her arms and gooseflesh when she spoke finally... hearing him and this close she was able to work on disabling him. Her mass and size were impressive, her strength there but she had been born and trained mandalorian, trained by the dark vizier of Emperor Moridin as a point of pride she had to preform better then most and with everything she let her words come out looking into his visor for a moment as her eyes gleamed with that golden yellow energy of the darkside. "Are you sure?" She said it and it wasn't a powerful comeback.. it barely was but he was operating on what he saw and guessed and she had much more.

The force repulsed, from two sources, the akure implants were in her glutes, repulsor grade and heavy as they turned her tuck and roll with the illerium into a flip with speed. The second pair of implants in her chest sending the repulse shockwave forward into the channel of their bodies as the closeness directed it. A harder impact of energy trying to pass through his body and this close it could attempt to do a lot more... and then there was the last part of it. This close as force activation came. The sternum and central piece activating with a second snap-hiss. The cylinder clasp of her chest armor a second blaade she kept on herself as it activated reaching to try and geld the man who had gotten so close to her.

The repulse didn't hurl him away it drove inward, a hammer blow compressed between their locked bodies, the attempted shockwave punching straight through plating into meat and metal. The massive zeltron continued to adjust as she allowed Gorgo did her thing. The sounds of the battle around her something she was ignoring if only to avoid the distraction now... internally though she was amused more with it and not going to disrespect a warrior she still had certain aspects of her upbringing to ingrained into her mind to ignore.. but she could work to dismantle and go after him. Her rend spell was still there as she was mentally pushing it and from her hand as the blade was there she was simply closer now to focus and lay on hands.

She didn't need to laugh, she was going for a multi-pronged assault in much greater aspects the closer he got... her eyes remaining on his visor for a moment when she positioned herself to try and finish it with a body slam. the illerium, repulse, and momentum to send them in a ball before snapping the both into the ground and smashing connel with a final impact. Her minimal dialogue was more helpful... monologuing she had learned ruined things and distracted, recalculating midfight helped but she also knew where and when to go for tactical supremacy. The flip and crash impact if it came would be more as she would be able to follow it up with her own mass pressing into him if he was there.

 

[Gavin Restur]

Equipment: Dual Blaster Pistols, Forcepike, Rocket Boots, Rebreather + Tubes, Misc.
TAGS: Aurelian Veruna , Glissara , Mercy , Corazona von Ascania
​

As the pair were in the midst of hightailing it out of here, he was already trying to think of what steps to take after they got out of the room. If they didn't have Corazona von Ascania with them for the time being, they'd most certainly have to be more stealthy to try and get to a spaceport. If they happened to run into a Sith, he'd likely have to send Aurelian Veruna alone while he dealt with them. Would he be able to g-

The explosion of the door in front of him caused his thinking to be swept away. From the dust, he wasn't able to see much. But what he could see, was something moving very quickly towards the two of them. Fortunately, his reaction time was quick enough for him to put his arms up, using them to block in front of himself.

Unfortunately, they weren't quick enough to realize he wasn't the target.

His head snapped to the side after Aurelian had just gotten demolished in the skull, watching as he was sent down to the floor, unmoving. Staring at the man on the floor.

What he just heard in his head, was his pay being cut for allowing that to happen.

And no one messes with his credits.

His gaze went to Glissara , after. No words. His arms quickly swiped themselves downwards, drawing his blasters from their holsters. And, while aiming from the hip, he immediately began shooting bolts of yellow towards the woman. It was evident she was quick, extremely quick, so he had hoped to be able put her down before this could escalate. From the corner of his eye, he had watched the unconscious body of the king be swept away to a corner, so he didn't have to worry about that.

Though, he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he overheard Cora and Mercy bicker with each other. It was clear there was some history between the two of them, so he figured it'd be best if he didn't get involved in that mess.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Interacting with: Quinn Varanin and eventually Bastila Sal-Soren
Items: x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x

Well, that worked.

Mentioning Bastila had drawn far more from Quinn than any direct question could have. The tension in her shoulders, the sharp turn of her head, the way she responded -- and the moments she chose not to -- told Sibylla everything she needed to know.

Learning they had met at the Hapan wedding stirred a flicker of irritation. Aurelian had attended that blasted affair with a bounty still on his head. He had explained his reasoning afterward. It had not eased her worry then.

It did not ease it now.

Cora and his guard will protect him, she told herself, hilariously unaware that Quinn's concern for Bastila mirrored her own for Aurelian.

The same King, Quinn had nearly impaled and killed on Wielu.

And that was the frustrating medley of it.

The pragmatic part of Sibylla's mind was keenly aware that Quinn was the mynock in the room that was impossible to ignore. Politically, Sibylla could not afford to see her as anything less than what she was: the newly crowned Queen and Warden of Eshan, a leader with direct ties to the Mandalorian Empire. As Ambassador, Sibylla had a duty to approach this with composure, with pragmatism, with de-escalation at the forefront of every word.

And yet, another part of her, the part that remembered past events, was still unsettled. And as Quinn had emphasized, she was still the Sith Princess.

Now that same woman was saving her life, guiding her through corridors, and had killed those who would have slain Sibylla.

Which now meant... what was Quinn's participation with the Moorjan government? Had she known? And where did that leave them with Mandalorian and High Republic relations? Sibylla knew she should be asking questions. About why. About how. About what this meant.

Sibylla instead forced herself to catalog them for later.

Either way, it seemed that Quinn held Bastila in high regard, enough to show some reaction when the woman was mentioned. All the more so when Quinn whirled to emphasize that the only one who would kill Bastila is by her hand as she is a formidable rival.

Right. Rival.

It showed on Sibylla's face in that calm, searching look that suggested she was not entirely convinced by Quinn's words. Not that she believed Quinn was lying, but that she sensed something unspoken beneath them.

To her credit, Sibylla did not rub salt in the wound.

As they moved toward the service entry, alarm lights flaring red and white as they stepped inside, Sibylla added plainly and genuinely, "I am curious because I am trying to understand who is in front of me.

I know what it is to balance versions of oneself for the sake of duty. On a political level as the Ambassador to Mandalore, am I talking to the Queen of Eshan, Warden of Mandalore? Or the Sith Princess whom we have been trying to meet to discuss matters, including your outstanding High Republic warrant?"

It wasn't an accusation, or a goad, or even a pry. It was an observation on what had been drilled down upon Sibylla since infancy -- that she was born into privilege, and with that came certain obligations. Obligations and duty to Naboo.

Becoming Interim Queen made that only far more clear -- a trial by fire that allowed her to truly discern if she wanted to serve Naboo as its Queen because she wanted to -- not just because she'd been expected to.

"All three?" Sibylla asked, stepping closer. "Or am I speaking to Quinn?"

And while Sibylla's gaze softened, it did not waver.

"Because when the titles fall away, I am also simply Sibylla. Bastila is not only my Handmaiden. She is my friend. One of the few who sees me for who I am, not just what I represent. So yes, I am concerned. Somewhere beyond this coniving trap, her life is at risk as well as others I hold very dear."

They were alone in the service corridor now. No one else to hear Quinn's answer.

"So, this may be the only moment I have to ask you plainly."

She held Quinn's eyes.

"So who are you choosing to be right now?"

 

[Darth Nefaron]

ALLIED TAGS: Veradun Sharr, Darth Carnifex , Helix
ENEMY TAGS: Balun Arenais-Dashiell , Ala Quin , Jax Thio , Connel Vanagor , Aurelian Veruna ​

The Padawan performed well as their blades clashed, a credit to his training and his battles with the various other Sith he had confronted on his path. If they had faced each other in a traditional duel, Nefaron had little doubt that Balun would be able to hold his own, yet it was not like the Sith to make any fight fair, a lesson the boy had learned well, it seemed. As their blades clashed again, the Jedi reached out and found something large to pull toward the Terror Lord, a distraction meant to buy time and grant space for a new strategy. Naturally, Nefaron disengaged and brought his red blade to bear against the table, splintering down the middle and casting molten metal onto his black cloak, burning holes into it but leaving the Dark Lord largely unscathed.

The dead eyes of the Sith Lord watched as the Padawan circled him, a tight grip on his lightsaber, and played the eager listener as Balun spoke of his Master's noble mission and that of the High Republic itself. All he could do in the end was laugh, arms spreading wide as the Jedi charged him with renewed courage only to have his blade met at the last moment by the crimson blade of the Corpse Lord at the final moment.

"Oh, you poor fool. You actually believe all that, don't you?"

It was sad, in a way. Once more, the Jedi have made themselves subservient to the will of democracy, one that was flawed and consumed by the trapping of nobility and greed. Already, Sith agents attempted to infiltrate the circles of power, and it would not be long before the weakness of the Republic would be laid bare for all to see. Nefaron did not allow the Jedi to disengage, pressing forward as their sabers remained locked together in a desprate fight for dominance.

"We could have killed every single one of you today, even that pathetic King, if we so wished. You have deluded yourself into believing the force will stand alongside you in defiance of what you call evil. If you wish to see evil, young Balun, perhaps you should begin with the very government you protect."

As if to hammer the notion home, Nefaron pressed forward, driving both of their sabers off to one side and into the floor, sparks and melting metal filling the air while the Corpse Lord laughed. Then, with little warning, the Sith's free hand had struck the boy, not only physically but also with the power of the force, sending him flying and granting him the space he had been searching for.

"I will grant you this, my boy: the Sith are evil. Strosius and his ilk may deny it, but I will not. You will soon understand that it is the natural state of every living being."

One of Nefaron's hands began to rise, the Dark Side gathering in him until a powerful blast of lightning leaped from his fingers and toward the young Jedi.

"Even you!"​

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Big Mean Wolfie Gerwald Lechner
Lily Rhodes Rik Perris and eventually Elian Abrantes

“If you intend to pass,” he said evenly, “then you may try.”

The Shadow Wolf with the citrine eyes told her no. That Zaiya would need to try to get past.

But if this was to goad or provoke the Lovalla, well, it didn't land in the way it intended if that was the case. Oh, that wasn't to say Zaiya wasn't highly aware that they were racing across the clock and that she needed to get these people to safety.

It is that Zaiya was trying to determine the best way to go about it with the least amount of risk.

She noticed Lily at the corner of her eyesight, and with only the briefest of nods, gestured towards the dignitaries and the Republic Guard behind her. Domxite bounded on the ground and went rambling towards Lily, the tiny droid moving to climb up.

"Lily, I presume. Please, assist those who are behind me.... I'm going to be a little bit busy. Domxite will help you."

The Force swept upon the Lovalla, and a noticeable rush of awareness painted the rosy golden skin of the Padawan with echoes of deep amber and cobalt blue, and yes, even a bit of canary yellow that could be either courage or foolishness alike.

But this time around, Zaiya wasn't a young teenager who could be easily overwhelmed by the emotions and pressures of those of the Dark. She had time and again, with each battle, through each training, been able to enhance her mental shields as much as utilize her empathy in a way that would compliment her... not hinder her.

Turning towards Gerwald Lechner , the Lovalla Padawan shone him the brightest of smiles, flashing those pearly white teeth as she gave a subtle incline of her head in acknowledgement.

"Well, I have learned that when it comes to trying, it is best to do... not try," Zaiya replied, quoting an ancient Jedi Master she had read about in the Archives. She made a casual gesture of her hands in front of her as she brushed her fingers from one forearm to the next, brushing the pearls in a in manner that made all of her bangles, bracelets, and cuffs give a jingle.

"All the colors and shadows that swirl about you are interesting," she added, the Lovalla giving a slight cant of her head. "All dark and bright yellows." Then she smiled wider, and the Force went rippling through her, the edges of her mottled spots and stripes illuminating with a faint iridescent luster that made her appear ethereal for a few brief seconds.

"I gotta ask though," as she began to stride forward with a bounce and a skip in her step, her glowing multicolored hair swaying along her shoulders as the Kyber crystal in her hair began to shine.

"What's your favorite type of burger?" and just like that, the Lovalla sent a telekinetic blast out towards Gerald -- only that it wasn't just a telekinetic blast, oh no.

Nuh uh. No how.

For Zaiya had purposefully earlier with her silly and dramatic brush of her arms that made her bangles and bracelets jingle, she plucked a few of a handful of the tiny stun and pearls in her hands. They looked like real pearls, black and white, pretty, very pretty.

But packed a heck of a punch.

So it was not just a swipe of telekinesis, Zaiya was blasting right at Gerald, but the controlled, and specific use of ballistickinesis, purposely shoving the Force onto each of those stun pearls right at the man, already ticking and about to go off, hoping that she could get those EMP & Stun Pearls to stick, as each when deployed had a 3m radius charge where the effects of the Stun Perl can render most organics within the blast radius unconscious and those of the EMP pearls could render most electronics and droids within the radius damaged or disabled.... that is....provided they are not wearing proper protection.

So here is hoping something stuck!

 

[Glissara]

Location: Agriculture Guild Hall - Moorja
Objective: Neutralize the High Republic delegation.
Tag: Gavin Restur Corazona von Ascania Aurelian Veruna Mercy

Glissara’s raptor-like foot connected with the King of Naboo’s skull in a hard, yet delicately measured strike. After all, a kick delivered with the full force of her hyper-augmented Pursuit Zero physiology behind it might have snapped his neck. Instead, the blow sent him crashing to the ground in a daze as the Jango Jumper surged past, immediately curving her trajectory in a circular arc around the trench coat-clad gunslinger.

All the while, as Mercy and the blonde-haired Jedi bickered over…men, Glissara moved in an attack vector, her brows raising with equal parts worry and disbelief as bits and pieces of their exchange reached her ears. However, with her hair styled in bangs that blocked most of her forehead from view, the expression was only visible as a slight widening of her eyes.

It was then that the gunslinger moved, his twin blaster pistols clearing their holsters in the blink of an eye and opening fire in a blistering cascade of amber-hued bolts. Glissara was already in motion, throwing subtle cuts to shift the radii of her movement arc so as to break his lead. However, one of the bolts came dangerously close, forcing the Shatter Vector to plant her foot in a sudden deceleration, before rotating her hips and using the torque recoil to whip her momentum sharply lateral and backward in an explosive redirect. Still, the bolt grazed her across the back, coaxing a sharp, pained hiss from her lips as her exoskin’s integrated shields flared at the impact point, mitigating the energy just enough that the shot caused only a minor burn on the flesh beneath.

And yet, her stride remained unbroken.

Now sprinting in the opposite direction, Glissara hurled a pair of vibrostars towards the gunslinger from just over twelve meters away, one flying immediately after the other. Their auto-guards deactivated the moment they left her hand; ultrasonic vibration generators and energized edges activated mid-flight, turning the shurikens into spinning discs of death capable of ripping through armor and flesh alike. The first flew low, aimed for the gunslinger’s left thigh. The second traced a higher arc towards his right armpit, intended to wound or even outright sever one of his shooting arms.

Should they connect, Glissara intended to be ready to pounce on the opening that might present itself. However, based on the speed of his draw and the accuracy of his fire, she could already tell that the gunslinger was formidable. There was a distinct possibility that he would endure her attack, that the vibrostars would only find empty space or a deflecting shield.

And if he did, she would have to be ready for whatever might come next.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Slipstream Zero Exoskin Mk. I
  
  • Arms
    
    • Modular Attachment Point - R
      
      • FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II
  • Face Mask
• Glissara’s Enforcer
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Phase I “Susurration” Anti-Sonic Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (20)
• Void Helix-type Aerial Vibrostar (10)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Miniaturized Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (2)

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Sibylla Abrantes //:
//: Attire //:

The corridor was quietening down, the pathway leading far from the battle of the attempted escape of the Republic. Quinn did her best to focus, trying to ignore the screams in the Force of the dying. Blocking them out was typically easy, but she was searching for someone in those screams. Unlike her mother, Quinn wasn't as good at filtering what she wanted to feel and hear, and what she didn't.

It also didn't help that Sibylla decided to continue the conversation. Though Quinn didn't help by asking her a question — she had hoped the woman would decide to quiet down and let them continue this unwanted journey in silence.

Quinn carefully read her face as they walked; she didn't believe the rival story, which was understandable. The Alliance had been the focus, and then the Imperials drew the ire of the Empire. There was always tension, sharing borders like that, but nothing ever escalated beyond skirmishes. Even now, this betrayal was just the tip of the iceberg.

She wanted to encroach on the borders of the Republic, seize territory, and expand the Empire. Yet she would never say such things not to the enemy's face, and even then… a part of her wondered if they could live in a state of coexistence.

Maybe then…

Quinn gave Sibylla her full attention. She had read Quinn the list of titles and allegiances that she already knew she had. Having to juggle them and then her attempt at empathizing with Quinn. Her blood burned hot under her skin; the questioning and attempts to dig into the layers she protectively wrapped around herself were getting annoying.

What was the plan? Why did she want to know? Would this information be used against Quinn in the end?

Again, Bastila became the parallel between them, the tie that drew Quinn's attention.

She didn't answer right away. At first, she needed to resist the urge to storm off or to throw the woman into a void, never to be seen again. But Quinn knew that would be damning in all her situations.

Instead, she exhaled and stopped her stride for just this moment.

For a heartbeat, Quinn would look almost amused. The coordinator's red light caught her pale hair, sharpening the angles of her face. Another sigh, and Quinn finally regained her composure, enough to answer calmly.

"You ask that," Quinn would say softly, "As if I have the luxury of separating them."

She shifts her stance, trying to find some way to not feel as small as she suddenly did.

"The Queen of Eshan and a warden of Mandalore does not get to stop being a Sith when it is inconvenient. The Sith Princess does not forget the warrant placed on her head when she steps onto the boards of the High Republic." She exhaled as she found some bit of courage.

"And a Dark Councilor of the Sith Empire does not get to choose feelings over stability."

Her gaze would hold Sibylla's.

"But if you're asking who is standing in this corridor, with you, without soldiers or either of our governments listening…"

Quinn let herself relax; the fists that she held at her side opened, flexing her aching fingers.

"It's Quinn."

No smirk. No flirtation. Just honesty.

"If your friendship with her is as you say, I'm not going to pretend I don't care about Bastila Sal-Soren ." Her eyes glanced towards the doorway in front of them, then back towards Sibylla.

"I do, despite our interactions being brief… she's shown concern for my safety — something that I'm not often afforded unless it benefits someone." Quinn knew Bastila wasn't the first and hopefully not the last. Others had shown their concern for her, but with everything, it was hard to accept… hard to see if it was because of the crown or her station.

"I just ask you not to use her against me." Her tone, her words — there was something raw underneath it all. Something that rarely surfaces. Quinn wasn't used to being asked who she was without the posturing or the protective sphere of her titles.

"I know what it costs to let someone see past everything."

Quinn didn't want to think about those she had let in, only to have them ultimately leave her. Their absences felt like a gaping wound that reopened at the slightest opportunity.

Sometimes she wondered if it was better to be alone, better to not let anyone in.

Quinn began to pull back, rebuild the defenses that Sibylla had found a crack in. A hand gently pushed back her blonde hair from her face and, in the same motion, wiped the stray tear that clung to the edge of her eye.

"You don't get to ask me to choose, no one does — because I am not allowed to choose. So instead, I make them coexist."

She grew quiet as she looked away and adjusted the coat, bringing the collar closer to her jaw.

"It's the only way for me to survive."

A lesson she learned early in life was that everything was transactional; it was easier to change the skin you wore than to change the system forged before your time.

Her voice was quieter as she found the need to reiterate the rarity of what Sibylla was seeing.

"But again, in this hallway, between you and me. You're speaking to just Quinn. I'm not happy with what is happening; I often disagree with what's being done. It's out of my control…"

A small scoff as she began walking again.

"The price of duty, A Princess, a Queen, a Warden and a Councilor — my choices are not my own…"

Pausing, she knew Sibylla would hopefully understand.

"Not even my life... it belongs to the people I serve."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The purificational rhyme had unintended side effect, one that not even its caster could foresee. It revealed not only the depth of darkness which resided just behind the living body, that which was animated by the pneuma of conscious thought, but also revealed that the darkness of Darth Carnifex was not entirely singular.

It was tripartite.

Three distinctions existed within the Dark Lord. Chief among them was that which was readily sensed, the darkness of Darth Carnifex. It was dominant and was the central medium through which the Dark Side exerted its power. But there were two others, lesser yet still potent. There was a dark spirit stitched onto Carnifex's darkness, a latticework of pain and suffering which had once been wholly inseparable from Carnifex but had since been severed and reattached. The other lurked in the shadow of veiled consciousness, taking physical form as a literal shadow but distinctly feminine and utterly alien to the other two.

Any hope of redemption was swallowed whole, gnashed between the teeth of three distinct darknesses.

In the world of flesh and blood, Carnifex's blade met Jax's with a tumultuous burst of energy as the ground beneath them buckled and bowed. Carnifex said nothing in response to His son's words, only watching Him with cold, hateful eyes. When the cavalcade of blows came down upon Him, the Dark Lord flowed through the motions like water. Whenever one of Jax's blows came near to actually striking the Dark Lord, it would fit an equal and opposite force rising up to meet it. When these two wavelengths meet, they cancelled one another out.

Long ago, the Dark Lord had trained His body and His power over the Dark Side to subconsciously project a tightly-woven field of energy around His body like a shell. The shield pulled near air-tight to the skin, and was virtually imperceptible to Human sight. The response to external threads was entirely autonomous, requiring no thought from Carnifex to function. It was, in essence, a secondary skin.

Flying through the wall, the Dark Lord righted Himself and landed in a crouch on the floor beyond. Rising up, Carnifex pulled Himself through the gap. He'd deactivated His lightsaber on instinct the moment He started flying around, but now He reactivated it with a snarling hiss.

"Doubled powers? A marginal increase then. Allow me to reply in kind."

All around Jax, Jardain, and Syreeta materialized imperceptible spears of midnight black, appearing from opposite angles form one another like the jaws of a steel trap. When they loosed, they flew faster than any physical spear could; animated by the Dark Side and driven forth by Carnifex's will. When one flew and struck, another appeared not long after, weaving undulating lines of spears that fired in mechanical succession. They never struck from the same angle twice, always moving and always adjusting.

Wherever and whatever these spears struck suffered cumulative damage of years of atrophy in the span of a single moment. The floor around where the spears embedded themselves rusted and decayed, brittle to the lightest touch. Power drained from the circuitry laced throughout the corridor, machinery attached to the local circuit grid jamming as the mechanical functions faltered and ultimately failed. The nearby lifts began to drop one by one, the cables and mechanisms holding them in place giving out. Any flesh afflicted aged several decades in the blink of an eye.

All of this wrought into being without the Dark Lord of the Sith even lifting a finger.

Jax Thio | Syreeta Ming | Jairdain Ismet-Thio
Connel Vanagor | Balaya Praelior Zambrano | Ala Quin ​

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain felt the shift in the battle the moment Jax's forward momentum faltered—not because of any sound or visible cue that might have warned a less attuned observer, but because the very texture of the Force around him changed in a way that was unmistakable to someone who had lived her entire life listening to its subtleties. It tightened and compressed with a suddenness that carried intention, as though the air itself had been seized by an unseen hand and reshaped with cold, deliberate precision.

The brief flare of triumph that had followed Jax's opening assault—bright, sharp, and fleeting—was swallowed almost immediately by something heavier, older, and infinitely more dangerous. The currents surrounding him no longer surged with the chaotic momentum of motion and impact alone. They thickened into something dense and oppressive. They hardened into a structure with purpose. They began to move with a will that did not belong to him and had no interest in yielding.

It was the difference between a storm breaking overhead and a mountain deciding, with terrible inevitability, to move.

The first of the midnight spears formed like a wound opening in the fabric of the Force itself.

She sensed it before it fully existed, felt the concentrated knot of entropy and decay coalescing out of malignant intent, its shape still unstable and half-born, trembling between possibility and manifestation before it finally crystallized into something unmistakably lethal. Another followed in its wake. Then another. Then dozens more, weaving themselves into shifting geometries that defied conventional distance and angle, slipping through space as though the laws of reality were merely polite suggestions they had no obligation to obey.

Carnifex was no longer reacting to the battle around him. He was asserting absolute, unchallenged control over it.

Jairdain's breath stuttered for the briefest instant, a tiny fracture in her rhythm, before discipline closed around the moment and forced her lungs back into steady, measured cadence.

Her barriers responded immediately. Not with panic that would have shattered them. Not with brute reinforcement that would have drained her too quickly.

But with controlled, deliberate adaptation, the kind born from decades of training and a lifetime of surviving what should have killed her. Layers of her defenses slid over one another like interlocking plates of living armor, density shifting where the spears converged, flow patterns reconfiguring in real time to prevent any single vector from becoming catastrophic.

Where one spear grazed the edge of her lattice, she felt its corrosive nature instantly—felt years of decay compressed into a single moment, felt structural fatigue blooming like rot beneath her awareness. She redirected that energy outward and downward with ruthless precision, sacrificing sections of floor and wall rather than allowing that corruption to reach the fragile cluster of lives behind her.

Stone aged into powder in seconds. Durasteel became brittle and fractured like old bone. Support struts collapsed under the weight of accelerated ruin. But the people behind her remained standing, untouched by the decay that devoured everything else. The cost of that choice struck her immediately and without mercy. Her reserves dipped sharply, as though someone had reached inside her and scooped out a portion of her strength with bare hands. Her pulse hammered against her ribs in a rhythm that bordered on painful.

A deep, grinding ache spread through her shoulders and spine, as though she were physically bearing the accumulated weight of every redirected impact, every collapsing structure, every life she refused to let slip away. Still, she held.

Through the Force, she felt Jax's concern reach outward. It was sharp, instinctive, and utterly unguarded, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"Connel! Jair! Are you okay?!"

Fear. Love. Urgency. All tangled together beneath the fierce determination that had always defined him. For a fleeting moment, something like exhausted affection stirred within her. Not amusement, not levity, but the quiet recognition of how deeply he still reached for her even in the middle of violence that could swallow them both.

She reached back immediately, shaping her response with care and steadiness even as another spear shattered against her defenses and sent a tremor through her concentration.

I'm still here, she sent, anchoring the thought in calm and warmth despite the strain burning through her. Still standing. Still breathing. A faint thread of dry, stubborn humor followed, slipping through the bond like a familiar hand brushing his cheek. And if I weren't, you wouldn't be feeling that Valor anymore, would you? She let reassurance flow through the connection, gentle but firm, a steadying hand on the back of his mind. I'm not going anywhere yet, Jax. So don't you dare decide this is the part where you stop being careful. Even as she spoke to him through the Force, her attention never wavered from the battlefield.

The spears continued to multiply. Angles shifted with predatory intelligence. Patterns evolved with every passing heartbeat.

Each wave tested her lattice in new ways, forcing constant recalibration, redistribution, and sacrifice. Sections of the corridor crumbled into brittle ruin where decay took hold. Circuits failed in showers of sparks. Machinery screamed and died. Gravity itself hesitated where infrastructure gave way beneath the assault.

She compensated where she could. She accepted what she could not save. But she saved enough.

Her hand pressed briefly against her abdomen. Not in weakness, not in fear, but in grounding, in quiet defiance, in remembrance of why surrender was not an option she would ever consider.

Stay present. Stay steady. Stay here.

Syreeta's presence brushed against her awareness then, reinforcing portions of the protective field with a steadiness that felt like a hand bracing hers. Jairdain adjusted her geometry subtly to integrate that support, their energies interlocking without friction, forming deeper resilience where before there had only been fragile balance.

Together, they held. Barely.

Another spear slipped through a weakened vector. She redirected it at the last possible instant, sending it screaming into a collapsed support column instead of into living bodies. The column aged into dust and collapsed in seconds, but the people remained untouched.

Through it all, Carnifex remained exactly what he had always been. Unmoved. Unhurried. Untouched.

His presence pressed upon the battlefield like an immutable law, a reminder that everything she was doing was resistance against inevitability rather than any true control over it.

She did not resent that truth. She accepted it with the clarity of someone who had lived long enough to understand the difference between arrogance and resolve. And she refused to yield anyway.

Her presence remained wrapped around Jax, feeding him steadiness, reinforcing his balance, smoothing the turbulence that threatened to creep back into his thoughts as he realized how little his opening assault had truly accomplished.

You're doing well, she sent quietly, her mental voice steady despite the strain. Stay centered. Don't chase him. Don't let him decide the rhythm.

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

Around them, the corridor continued to unravel. Steel rusted into ruin. Systems failed in cascading waves. Shadows deepened into something almost tangible. Death hovered close enough to taste.

Yet within her narrowing sphere of resistance, people still lived. Still hoped. Still clung to one another with desperate, stubborn faith.

And Jairdain remained exactly where she was. Not seeking glory. Not seeking triumph. Not pretending she could overpower what stood before them. But enduring. Adapting. Holding. Long enough for love, discipline, and stubborn light to matter.

Darth Carnifex Jax Thio Balaya Praelior Zambrano Syreeta Ming Connel Vanagor Ala Quin Darth Nefaron Balun Arenais-Dashiell

 

[Balun Arenais-Dashiell]

STORM CHASERS
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel | Lightsaber | K-16 Bryar Pistol
ALLIES: Ala Quin | Jax Thio | Connel Vanagor
OPPOSITION: Darth Nefaron | Darth Carnifex | Veradun Sharr

​

Balun's body twisted as he sought to keep a firm hold of his lightsaber, the blade being forced sideways by that of Darth Nefaron 's own. The Sith Lord's skill with the lightsaber was overwhelming, a surgical blend of raw strength, rage and fluent swordsmanship. It was taking Balun everything to channel his energy and focus on Nefaron's attacks, body language, and movements to anticipate and stay one step ahead. Or at the very least, keep pace with the Sith.

And then, having not the chance to see it coming, a blinding force behind Nefaron's clenched fist struck Balun square in the right corner of his jaw. Unable to rationalise the next few moments, his vision momentarily caved, and the room violently spun as he was physically thrown across the control centre, landing amidst the splinters of a table still warm from the blade of the Sith, and stopping on his left side, desperately searching to locate his opponent from the ground floor.

Readying his lightsaber, still clutched firmly in his right hand, his gaze landed upon the Sith Lord whose own hand was outstretched in his direction. Balun's mind rocked back and forth from the previous impact, yet the Force around Nefaron surged in volatile darkness and quickly built in strength. As light eclipsed the hand of the Sith, Balun lifted his lightsaber high and angled the blade out towards his foe, instinctively seeking the protection of the Force and the aid of Tutaminis in order to try to absorb as much of the Force Lightning using his weapon.

The light of blinding electricity crackled and lashed out at the air around his lightsaber, the glove of his right hand warming instantly in response to the astonishing strength and heat of the Sith's attack. By comparison, Balun's strength in the Force was dwarfed. Not only by the significant difference in their training and experience, but also by the Hodharium Inlays within his attire and the alloy plating that, while providing protection against the Force, also lessened the wearer's ability to utilise its power. As a consequence, Balun's ability to exert his ethereal strength was handicapped, and he couldn't fight at his best.

Balun cried out, not of pain but of sheer persistence and the struggle to keep the Sith Lord's electrical storm from engulfing him fully. Willing himself to turn, halfway onto his back, his left hand slipped out from under him, and he reached out with a desperate counter-attack, expelling a different kind of light from his open palm. Though weakened by his inability to capitalise on his training and also his continued fight against the Sith's lightning onslaught, the energy that he dispelled illuminated the entire room around them with Force Light.

Jedi Master: Ala Quin
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​