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

[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

Moorja – Peripheral Districts / Transit Convergence

Connel felt it. Not Jax’s panic. Not fear.

Decision.

A vector shift in the Force like a blade changing angle mid-strike. Jax was moving fast. Good. Connel didn’t need to see him to know what that meant. The speeder’s wake tore through the currents like a comet. Carnifex would feel that too.

Which meant interception. Which meant bottlenecks. Which meant… obstacles. Connel pivoted.

He didn’t chase Jax. He moved around him.

The negotiation complex sat at the center of Moorja’s transit web. Every major corridor, every lift artery, every aerial approach fed toward it. If Carnifex wanted control, he would tighten the ring. If Jax wanted confrontation, he would head straight for the throat.

Connel?

Connel would sever the nerves.

He vaulted a maintenance barrier and dropped into a lower tram junction already swarming with Sith troopers repositioning toward the spire and the negotiation chamber. He didn’t announce himself. A lightknife embedded into a junction relay box. He fired the lightblaster into the tram’s control node. The vehicle derailed with a screaming shower of sparks, sliding sideways and blocking the corridor entirely.

Troopers scattered.

Connel didn’t linger. He picked up a trooper’s fallen rifle and foraged for a couple of powercells.

He ignited “Dawn’s Light” and cut the support struts of an overhead walkway just as a platoon began to cross.

Metal shrieked.

The walkway collapsed in controlled ruin.

Not killing.

Crippling.

Separating.

Delay.

He moved through smoke like a rumor. He climbed. Maintenance ladders. Ventilation shafts. Service scaffolding. The city was vertical. So was war. From a rooftop vantage, he saw it clearly: Speeder patrols vectoring toward Jax’s path. Heavy assault units establishing a perimeter near the negotiation tower.

Aerial drones locking onto heat signatures. He drew the last four lightknives. One after another, he hurled them into rooftop sensor clusters and drone hubs. Each detonation was precise. Eyes went blind. Routes went dark.

Confusion spread.

Below, a speeder squadron accelerated to intercept Jax. Connel leapt. He landed on the last speeder mid-formation. The rider barely had time to turn before “Windu’s Guile” severed the steering assembly. The speeder veered sideways and collided with the next in line.

A chain reaction.

Fire.

Chaos.

Connel rolled off the wreckage before it exploded, hit the pavement, and kept moving. No speeches. No witnesses now. Just momentum.

Near the negotiation complex, Sith Acolytes formed a defensive crescent at the base entrance. They weren’t guarding the building. They were guarding access. Connel approached from the side alley. He holstered the lightblaster.

Both sabers ignited.

No restraint now.

Not against execution squads. Not against defensive phalanxes meant to isolate Jax. The first Acolyte saw him too late. A precise cross-cut ended the formation’s anchor. The second attempted a Force shove. Connel absorbed it, sliding back a half step, then threw his saber in a tight arc.

The blade sheared through two hilts before snapping back to his palm.

Troopers poured from side doors. He moved into them.

Close.

Brutal.

Economical.

A saber strike to a thigh. A reverse pommel strike to a visor. A shoulder charge that sent a trooper through a transparasteel window. The street filled with smoke and sparks. He didn’t pursue fleeing enemies, he picked up their dropped powercells, and grenades.

He didn’t hunt.

He dismantled.

When the last of them retreated toward the complex interior, Connel stepped into the open plaza and ignited one final act of disruption. He fired the lightblaster into the building’s exterior power conduits. Emergency suppression systems activated. Floodlights flickered. Interior elevators stalled.

Reinforcements inside would now be rerouting on foot.

Slower.

Messier.

Human. Exactly how Carnifex would hate it.

He stood in the center of the plaza, breathing steady. Above, lightning flickered across Moorja’s sky. Through the Force, he felt it clearly now: Jax closing. Carnifex waiting. Jairdain holding.

The currents narrowed. The arena was forming. Connel did not enter it.

He stepped backward instead. Into shadow. Into rooftop line-of-sight positions.

Into overwatch.

Trust.

But verify. Anyone who tried for those two would have to get through him...

... and they would NOT get through him.

If Carnifex tried to collapse the building. If reinforcements attempted to overwhelm Jax mid-duel.

If collateral threatened civilians inside—Connel would intervene violently.

Not to steal the fight.

To ensure it remained a fight.

He extinguished his sabers. The plaza dimmed. Somewhere within the negotiation complex, a massive presence shifted in anticipation. Carnifex probably thought he had orchestrated this.

He probably believed the son had come alone. He probably believed the bloodline would resolve itself.

He did not yet understand something critical. Jax may be his son, but Jax was still a “Vanagor” as well. That may not mean as much, but something it did mean was much more important.

The Vanagor line does not duel for dominance.

It safeguards the perimeter.

~You’re clear, “drunky”... kick his teeth in!~

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

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Her eyes blurred with tears. Eira's verbal assault brought her to distraction. And as she fought to blink away the tears, Eira advanced.

It took a moment longer than it should have to realize she was being attacked. Cerys brought her lightsaber around, blocking the first blow, and retreating behind a full table of fish. The pace of her retreat saw her knock the table, and a crate of salmon that spilled over the ground between Eira and Cerys.

"Stop! I do not want to hurt you," Cerys said, holding her blade straight towards Eira, hopefully insuring some distance.

Distance, she needed distance. Crouching, Cerys let the Force build for a moment, before jumping to a metal girder above Eira.

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. And looked about her just for a moment, seeking some way to escape this greatest of hells.

Eira Dyn​

 

[Helix]

Objective: Investigate
Equipment: Himself
Tags: Eloise Dinn /OPEN
​

Helix watched as a thousand private little dramas played out between the two forces. Some fought simply because that was the way of things. Happenstance, coincidence, or just following orders. For a few others, it was more personal than that. He saw at least a handful of reunions, private grudge matches between old acquaintances who now found themselves on opposite sides.

With luck, the Jedi might kill off some of their opponents for once. Helix kept an internal list of Sith who might prove a problem in the future. It was a very short list, with a number of names he could count on one hand. Some were here, some were not. Nonetheless, having someone else do one's work for one was always a pleasant surprise, when it happened.

With the absurdly pleased comfort usually known only to avid sports fans watching their team perform well, Helix settled into his chair, relaxing his body even as his consciousness spread wider and wider. He could get used to this. Perhaps more impersonal than a direct fight, but there was a certain smug joy in watching it all play out for one's viewing pleasure. Regardless of who won the day, he won too.

Not for the first time, Helix was very grateful that his senses were not limited to the nodes his body generated. It might strain a lesser being to observe and process so much information at once, but for him, it was simplicity itself. There was a great deal going on, and Helix intended to miss none of it.

All the while, he dedicated a tiny portion of his consciousness to siphoning credits. It was like getting paid to watch a holodrama. Although...

He dimly detected something there, something investigating him in a sly and experienced manner. It didn't come as a surprise. For his part, Helix was not trying especially hard (if at all) to conceal his location. Part of him trusted in the general chaos to go unnoticed, another part hoped someone might come and disturb his little party, directly or indirectly. He decided not to prevent their snooping, in the interest of learning more. He began subtly searching for the source in turn, though in a place this large, it was like seeking the proverbial needle in a haystack.

At least this way, he wouldn't have to creatively embellish his after-action report.

 

[Gavin Restur]

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

["If there is blood on this coat, Gavin, it is coming out of your payment."]

"W-...hey now, let's not be rash." He can take being scolded. He can take being insulted. But his credits? His credits? Now that was crossing a line. And also because his bank account has been down in the dumps recently, so he really needs payment. Though, his worries were quickly dispelled almost as quickly as they formed.

["That was adequate."]

It's almost enough to make a grown man blush. But, that'd be weird. So, he just settled for giving an affirming nod to Aurelian Veruna , instead. "Oh, don't mention it. Just doin' my job." His gaze went to the small crowd of guild members that surrounded the small group, alongside Corazona von Ascania . Keeping his hands close to his blasters, just in case someone tried being smart.

["We are not here alone. We find the Chancellor. And my Voice of the Houses."]

["Our priority is you, Aurelian."]

Glancing between the other two are they talked. "...She does have a point."

["We get you out, first. Then the other-"]

A sudden CRASH rudely interrupted the conversation the three were having, as Mercy busted through the wall in front of them as if the trio owed her money. With Cora's wave of a hand, he was shoved back and away from any potential harm from debris, skidding on the floor alongside Aurelian. After a very brief moment to recollect his bearings, there was a look ahead towards the one who busted down the wall, brows lifting. He's willing to bet that it was her making all that ruckus.

["Gavin, get Aurelian out of here."]

"No complaints from me." Hastily scrambling up to his feet, as he assisted Aurelian up as well. "Let's get the hell out of here." With that, he started booking it towards the nearest exit that didn't have an enemy in front of it.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Jedi Knight, deprived of legs, attempted to prop herself up with her hands. She only got far enough to look up at the death and destruction around her before she was seized and dragged, deposited before the man who had so callously dismembered her. She looked up, His towering form looming over her; His shadow engulfing her utterly. She had never known such fear before, she thought that the Jedi teachings would've been enough to stave this terror seizing her heart...

But it was all in vain.

He reached down and seized her by the throat, pulling her up so that she was eye level with Him. She had no alternative but to face the monster, her eyes drawn unbidden into His magnetic gaze. All of her resistance melted away, not through any trickery of the Force, but through the sheer, unflinching will she had been set against. Her body went limp as her mind fractured from the horror, eyes glazing over as she fell into the deep embrace of the Dark Side.

She landed with a dull thump as the Dark Lord cast her aside, her body immediately set upon by robed acolytes. "Take her to the workshop, we'll find some use for her," was His only decree. The acolyte obeyed, carrying the girl away.

Darth Carnifex reached out with His feelings, sensing the various currents of energy that pervaded the spire. One among them drew His immediate attention, almost bringing a smile to His stoic features. So, the boy had finally come. It was a confrontation long in the making, born of necessity and desperation more than righteous conviction. The Dark Lord understood why, His guest had been trying her best to shield herself and the others from Him all this time. But it had always been for naught.

"I see you, little one. If you present yourself now, I will spare those you protect."

Jairdain Ismet-Thio | Jax Thio | Balaya Praelior Zambrano
Connel Vanagor | Ala Quin | Balun Dashiell
Feng Huang | Vulpesen | Darth Nefaron
Veradun Sharr ​

 

[Balaya Praelior Zambrano]

Allies: Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Jairdain Ismet-Thio Jax Thio Connel Vanagor

She watched it as the people were huddled around a singular person. Defending them as the wendol moved around and Balaya didn't rush as she moved. her steps calculated in the darkness the jedi had created. Lights out but she could see and feel where they were as her voice came out for a moment. "Jediiii. Oh jedi..." She said it while moving and let her voice reverberate around more then she was making it menacing. Almost sing song like and lulling before she looked with a small head turn. The jedi was protecting them but she had to move to distract and fight the wendol while the large zeltron walked. Her armor moving smoothly before she reached out and grabbed a delegate by the wrist. "Oh hello." She said it and did two things. her taloned finger moving along the wrist as she traced small runes with the molecular edge into the flesh.

The fresh scent of blood as it welled up came but it was quickly healed with the force. The delegate pulling their armor back and from her grip as if she had burned him in that moment. The reaction much stronger and more visceral as she grinned to herself. She looked at the one there for a moment though as the snap-hiss came, purple and red light pulsing as the sabers blade was illuminating the area and casting light over her skin. The grin thin as a knifes edge but showing all of the malicious humor while she looked at the woman. "ANd who are you, being so cruel to my little beastie. It does have some kinks to work out. Should have brought something more tested but well doubt any will survive to report their inadequacies." Her humor never faltered while the taloned fingers of her glove held the blades hilt.

The small headband of her armor gleaming aurodium as she looked towards one of the others who had been huddling and spoke. Her voice changing for a moment. "Such fear, such a poor unfortunate soul." She was directing it towards the woman as she looked up for a moment and the Wendol staggered but looked more fearful as it was backing away. Balaya's eyes remaining on Jairdain but her headbands artifact was directed towards the woman as she slipped a small segment of her knuckle blade off with a kick. "I can protect you, let you leave here. No fear you just need to make a choice. Stab the one with you in her face or cower in fear and hope my monsters don't find you." She said it and imposed in her words more force and willpower amplified by the sith artifact for subjugating lesser wills.

"Don't blink jedi, don't want the others to take my offer. We only have the one position available." Her eyes flicked around at the others who were there as she felt the runes. She didn't need to laugh just let it hang there as her movements were accelerated. The cloak of her armor detaching as the terentatek hide muffling parts of her force presence and controlling the armors signature was cast away. The force energies making her muscles bulk more. The pink flesh tightening while veins were like black cables. The open taloned gauntlet of her free hand gleaming when she surged forward. The spiked heel digging into the floor and making an impact dimple. Her saber hand staying straight as she adjusted only for the height of her opponent. Red hair flying behind like a curtain to frame her when the compressed illerium sounded.

The thigh highs of her boots gleaming when the knees release twin barbs with a small illerium explosion. Directed like for sending escape pods at high speeds away and tied into her boots like the rest of the weapons of her armor. The jiggle activating the akure implants to accelerate the barbs trying for Jairdains neck with a repulse. Rave and Velok knew what they had developed when they made them and the zeltron allowed her free hand to release to the left a microflashbang. Her walking armory designed for this before she was allowing the saber to finally adjust for a slash to the right of it. The force speeding up her movements and reaction times for the few heartbeats as the blood began to pump faster and stronger in her ears. The crystal of her choker gleaming with golden darkside energies channeled from the carnage around as she drew it in.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

ALLIED TAGS: Veradun Sharr , Darth Carnifex , Helix
ENEMY TAGS: Balun Dashiell , Ala Quin , Jax Thio , Connel Vanagor

The Terror Lord said nothing more to his Apprentice, but he offered a look.

Hunt.

The boy was Sith. The Dark Side would guide him to his foe.
​

It did the same for Darth Nefaron as well, for he had taken great care to target one who was perfect for his terrible scheme. While it would indeed be quite a triumph bring the Grandmaster to Anoat to be broken, such a thing would ensure a fresh assault on Nefaron's fortress-world. But a humble Padawan? Would the High Republic send so many to their deaths for one man?

Navigating the ongoing slaughter, the Corpse Lord moved like a flash, a mere shadow against the wall, as he let the Dark Side take hold to bring him to his foe. No doubt the Jedi would split up to ensure they could save the greatest number of lives, and perhaps that was the Sith's plan all along. But then again, when did the Sith cooperate to do anything? If they were truly united, they would have focused all their attention on Naboo's monarch, for he would make a valuable prize and ensure a dominant position in any ongoing negotiations. Neffaron himself could have chosen to settle an old score with the Kinslayer of Ukatis, but he would have far more fun watching her spiral into madness.

So, despite himself, he stuck to his own plan and targeted the humble Padawan. When the Sith Lord had finally found his way to his prey, he could sense the perfidious light radiating off him, its power great indeed.

But it was nothing before the power of the Dark Side.
​

Rather than words, the Corpse Lord let his lightsaber do the talking as it slipped from the sleeve of his cloak and flew like a blaster bolt toward the screen the Padawan was fixed upon. The crimson blade burned through the screen, utterly destroying it as Nefaron slipped into the control room. Behind him, the doors sealed as the Sith remained in control of the tower's systems, though who knew for how much longer.

"They will die, boy. Our trap has been laid, and they now stumble into it."

Of course, Nefaron was bluffing. More than likely, the Padawan's companions would succeed in their quest. But he was the one who had stumbled into the trap, and now it was time to see what this student of the Grandmaster could do.

"But you need not die with them. Your path to the Dark Side begins today, and I-"

Nefaron's lightsaber retracted from the security monitor and flew back to his waiting hand. The Dark Lord's lipless maw twisted into a smile as his crimson blade was held off to one side. He did not need to kill the boy; he only needed to push him until he gave in.

"I will be your guide. But please, do come and do your duty. Strike me down, perhaps your master will make you a Knight?"

The Corpse Lord laughed at the thought.

"Or maybe I shall bring her your head? She is so concerned for you, Balun."​

 

[Eira Dyn]

Armour Mode: ASSASSIN
Equipment: Marwolaeth Ddu, Lethal Pursuers, Vibrosword, Blaster Pistol
Allies: TSO
Opposition: Cerys Dyn

Cerys was fleeing, she was running away and she was demonstrating why Eira was correct. The Jedi were weak. They were cowards. Creating more harm in their pathetic attitudes than doing any good. They were a virus on the galaxy and Eira was all the more happy to eradicate them and ensure no one else suffered from Jedi weakness like she had to endure. "It is fine if you do not wish to fight, Cerys."

Her gaze looked up at the higher grounding that Cerys fled to. Eira growled deeply. Cowardice.

Reaching up, the Sith Acolyte gripped the metal girder with the Force. Increasing pressure around the metal till it was creaking and breaking, Eira was using the Dark Side to crush the girder and force Cerys back down on the ground. Leaping up to join her sister was far too dangerous and while Cerys was saying she would not attack. Jedi lied.

"I will kill you. You are a weakness and you must be wiped out. All Jedi must be wiped out!" Eira growled darkly, "I don't need you to fight. Just die!"

 

[Sven Halestorm]

Lily Decoria | Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar

The Chancellor’s voice cut through the city like a blade drawn clean from its sheath.

Evacuate Moorja at once.

Sven did not flinch.

He had expected confirmation. The Force had already whispered it to him in uneasy currents, the tightening of fear in the crowds, the strained silence of the landing channels, the peculiar stillness beneath the chaos. Now it had a name.

Sith.

He moved at a measured pace, neither sprinting nor hesitating, robes flowing behind him as the spire of the Moorja Landing Tower rose ahead like a finger accusing the sky. Around him, panic began to ripple outward in earnest. Citizens scrambled toward transports that would not answer. Pilots shouted into dead comms. A pair of security officers argued beside a grounded shuttle whose ramp refused to seal.

Sven’s expression remained composed, though his senses stretched wide.

The Force churned.

It was not the blind rage of open battle, no clash of sabers, no explosion close enough to rattle bone. This was subtler. Coordinated. A net drawn tight around the world.

He reached the base of the tower and slowed.

The main entrance doors, thick durasteel, polished and official, stood sealed. No guards outside. No technicians. No movement behind the narrow reinforced viewport.

He extended his senses inward.

Life.

Several signatures, clustered higher up, anxious, restrained, confused. Not combatants. Not aggressors.

Trapped.

Sven placed a calm hand against the access panel beside the door. The interface was dark, its internal systems severed from the network. No manual override responded to his touch.

Of course not.

“They would not rely solely on slicing,” he murmured quietly to himself, voice steady as a still pond. “Redundancy is the hallmark of those who prefer control.”

He stepped back.

His hand moved to his belt.

The hilt of his lightsaber felt reassuringly familiar against his palm, an extension of discipline rather than aggression. With a soft snap-hiss, blue light sprang to life, casting a serene glow against the tower’s metallic façade.

The blade hummed, steady and patient.

Sven regarded the sealed entrance for a brief moment, as though giving it one final opportunity to reconsider its stubbornness.

“I do apologize,” he said mildly.

Then he pressed the blade to the seam where the two durasteel doors met.

Molten metal hissed and ran in bright rivulets as he guided the saber downward in a deliberate, controlled line. The scent of scorched alloy filled the air. He did not rush the cut. Precision now would prevent collapse later. A second vertical line followed, then a horizontal arc near the base.

The Force flowed through him, not in fury, but in clarity.

Each movement was economical. Each breath measured.

As the final cut completed its path, Sven deactivated the blade and stepped aside. With a gentle telekinetic pull, he urged the weakened section forward.

The heavy slab of durasteel groaned and toppled inward with a thunderous crash.

Heat shimmered in the air as he crossed the threshold into the dim interior of the tower.

Emergency lighting flickered red along the walls. The lift systems were inactive. Consoles downstairs were dark, cables severed cleanly.

Sabotage.

He ignited his saber once more, not for combat, but illumination.

Above him, through layers of metal and circuitry, he could feel the frightened cluster of tower officials, alive, but cut off from the world.

Sven began ascending the emergency stairwell two steps at a time, calm despite the urgency pressing at his back.

The Force tightened again.

Not merely sabotage.

Expectation.

As though someone, somewhere, had anticipated this response.

He did not allow the thought to sour his composure.

His grip on the saber remained relaxed but ready.

Above, the trapped souls waited.

Below, Moorja trembled.

And somewhere within the unseen machinery of this trap, darkness watched.

 

[Syreeta Ming]

Ever since her time on Harterra had come to an end, Syreeta had drifted. Any faction aligned with the Light, and which was willing to have her, would find in Syreeta an ally. The largest Light Sided faction today was the High Republic - and so Syreeta found herself on Moorja, fighting the Sith and rescuing their captives.

As she led a group of Republic delegates to a swift and secure escape, her attention was drawn elsewhere. A Jedi Knight and Padawan were dueling against a great and terrible evil. She flinched as she sensed their pain through the Force. Once the delegates were safely aboard an evac transport, Syreeta raced toward the source of the Dark Side she felt.

She arrived too late to save the Padawan, whose corpse lay on the floor, missing its head. The Jedi Knight had been dismembered, her legs cut off at the knees, but she was still alive. Alive, but in the clutches of a Dark Lord so vile he no longer seemed human.

Syreeta's focus narrowed down to the Knight, all other distractions falling away. She was not that far from her days in the Cult, where she had been forcibly converted and assimilated into the Dark Side. Perhaps that was why the sight of another woman being brutalized by a Sith Lord struck her to the very heart.

She landed with a dull thump as the Dark Lord cast her aside, her body immediately set upon by robed acolytes. "Take her to the workshop, we'll find some use for her," was his only decree. The acolyte obeyed, carrying the girl away.

"No!"

Syreeta thrust out her hand, seizing the Jedi Knight's body with the Force. A protective bubble encircled her form, floating it away from the Sith and towards her. At the same time, Syreeta clenched her other fist, knocking away the acolytes with a burst of telekinetic force.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio Jax Thio Balaya Praelior Zambrano Darth Carnifex Connel Vanagor​

 

[Lily Decoria]

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

As the pair arrived at the base of the tower, Lily watched as Sven went silent and decided to make the moves to open the door with his Lightsaber. Not communicating with Lily what was going on. It was an odd decision but Lily decided that she would just keep guard, she was not a deft hand with tech so it made sense that any issues with doors or attempts to solve it would be handled by someone other than herself while she ensured to keep Sven safe from attacks. Lily knew that she could sense dangers surrounding all around them.

Some void creatures, bathed in the Dark Side. It was fine since Lily activated the cyan blade of her Lightsaber and the Light Side energy coming from Lily, from Arwr Da, pushed firmly against the darkness. She was always the beacon of light against the dark and the Lightsaber she held in her hands only enhanced that trait. Hearing the door collapse, Lily looked over to Sven and saw that he had wordlessly headed inside without waiting for Lily to come along. It was odd how silent he had become, as if the new of the Sith had completely changed his demeanour and there was someone else beside her now.

Lily moved inside quickly since there was no current threat tailing them but Lily was acutely aware that things could change on a whim.

Plunging herself into the darkness that the tower had become, Lily held the Lightsaber up to add to the light that Sven was providing with his own Lightsaber. Lily looked around as the room was dimly lit with their light sources. "Sabotage means we know where they are at least. Control room." Lily stated. None of the elevators were going to be functional with the systems all down, meaning that they were going to have to take a far longer way up to the control room.

"Stairs. Going to have to be moving quick. We also got no idea who or what will be in the control room when we arrive, so cautious over aggression." Switching her Lightsaber off, Lily looked up the middle of the stair case. Empty void up and down but leaping upwards, that would be a lot faster than running up the stairs. Also less energy spent so they weren't exhausted before the fighting even began.

Letting the Force build in her legs, Lily launched herself upwards and grabbed the bannister. Launching herself up even higher as she climbed up to the control room. It took several leaps to reach the control room floor but Lily was there and she was not overly tired. She activated her Lightsaber once again as she felt the intensity of the Dark Side from the other side of the wall. There were some powerful Sith Lords waiting for them and Lily knew this was going to be a dangerous mission but crucial in saving as many lives as they could.

"Let me know when you are ready and we can move in, I believe it is just two Sith Lords. Pretty powerful ones but they are going to know we are here, so might be best to launch into an attack since it isn't an army that we will be facing on the other side of this door." Nodding to the door that got them into the control room.

 

[Vatrës Dhalis]

Vatrës felt the surge of fury from Gerra, lent herself to him, opening herself in the Force. Should he call upon it, he would find a bounty of dark power, fire and fury, an oasis of Vahl's influence in the mortal plane. The brand-like marking at her throat -- the manifestation of Vahl's shard, Her physical presence within her body -- glowed hot beneath her skin, visible through the gap in her reinforced leather armor.

It glowed hotter still as Abrantes -- the ingrate -- tried to hurl his slurs. The fool -- doesn't he understand that I am his only chance at surviving this? Gerra will hack him in twain if left to his own devices. Vatrës called out: "Yield, child! Do not make Vahl's Champion spill your blood unnecessarily!"

She stalked forward and put a hand on Gerra's arm and murmured, soft enough that it did not carry over the din. "She wants the boy alive, Champion. Flout Her will at your peril." But if Vatrës knew Gerra, she knew that even the words of a goddess could not turn him from his whims. She stepped to the side, out of range of the warlord's sword -- unless he meant it to reach her.

Hasuras Na-Gerra | Elian Abrantes​

 

[Shade]

Shade did not argue with him. She had learned long ago that there were moments when words were nothing more than wasted breath, and this was one of them. Arguments required two participants willing to listen, and Varin had long since traded his ears for the rhythmic, bone-deep thrum of violence.

The impact of his mace sent a violent shudder through the street, the city's very foundations screaming as stone fractured into a thousand jagged teeth. The wall gave way in grinding slabs, collapsing with a roar that choked the air with pulverized mortar and a sudden, searing heat that rolled outward in suffocating waves. At the same time, the smoke surged forward, not as a cloud but as something sentient and predatory. It coiled low and fast, snapping across the pavement and reaching for her ankles with burning, malevolent intent.

She reacted on raw, honed instinct.

Shade twisted away at the final possible heartbeat, her boots skidding across loose grit as she vaulted sideways. The heat licked close enough to sear the edge of her coat, the smell of singed fabric rising as the smoke brushed past the space she had occupied a second before. It hissed against the ground like a cornered viper, snapping at the air she had just vacated.

Too close.

Her shoulder clipped a jagged edge of a standing stone as she caught herself, the impact jarring her teeth and stealing a sharp breath from her lungs. Even after she had cleared the immediate blast, she felt the heat radiating against her skin like a physical weight, a warning etched into her nerves that one mistake here would be unforgiving. One stumble would be her final act.

Behind her, the last wounded Jedi cried out, the third of their number who would not leave this street alive.

She did not turn. She did not need to.

She had already watched two fall beneath Varin's hands. She knew the sound of inevitability when she heard it. The cry was thin, severed mid-breath, and what followed was a heavy, final silence that left no room for hope.

There would be no reaching him in time. There was no maneuver left in her arsenal that could bridge that gap, and no intervention that would not cost her the fight, her life, and any chance of stopping the one responsible. The arithmetic of the battlefield was merciless, and the answer had already been decided.

She let it go.

She forced the loss into the back of her mind, not because she did not care, but because grief was a luxury she could not afford. If she hesitated to mourn, even for a fraction of a second, Varin would end this for both of them, and four bodies would lie cooling in the rubble instead of three.

Her focus narrowed until the periphery of the world blurred into insignificance. The chaos of the street, the dust, the heat, and the fading light reduced themselves to three immutable truths: distance, timing, and opportunity.

And then she moved.

While Varin's attention remained momentarily anchored to the ruin he had created and the spreading shroud of smoke, Shade surged forward. She stayed low, a blur of controlled momentum that defied the treacherous footing of the debris. She slipped inside the worst of the heat and falling dust, her boots finding purchase on shifting stone where they should have slipped, her body angled to minimize her profile and deny him a clean target.

Her blade was in her hand before her mind finished issuing the command to draw it. It was a wicked, slender thing, its edge coated in a dull, oily sheen of neurotoxin distilled from the swamps of Vendaxa, engineered to turn a body's own nervous system against itself.

She did not aim high. She knew better than to test the thickest plates of his chest or gamble against the reach of his weapon. She did not overextend. To swing for the throat was to invite a crushing counterstrike.

She went for his leg.

It was a precise, ruthless cut intended to compromise his balance rather than his posture, to force a reaction rather than claim an immediate victory. The poisoned edge flashed in the dust-choked light as she drove in close, striking at the vulnerable seam behind his knee with every ounce of force her momentum could provide.

No hesitation. No warning.

If she was going to stop a monster, she would not do it with mercy. She would do it with the cold, deliberate bite of resolve.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Hasuras Na-Gerra Vatrës Dhalis
​

The blade came down and essentially destroyed the slab, Elian was thrown backward again, his body slamming hard into the side of a building. The impact drove the air from his lungs. He coughed, copper flooding his mouth, a thin line of blood slipping past his lips.

"It's not your fault…" he whispered to himself, forcing a breath through the pain. He dragged himself up to one knee as the giant loomed closer.

"Yield?" Elian coughed, a rough laugh following. "No thanks. I'm good." He reached for his rifle, snatched it up, and pulled the trigger as he raised it toward Gerra.

Nothing....

He stared at it for half a second. "Oh, come on!!!!!" He hurled the useless weapon aside and surged to his feet. Both daggers flashed into his hands as he broke into a reckless charge.

Using a chunk of rubble for leverage, he planted a foot and launched himself upward toward the towering man, driving both blades forward, aiming straight for his chest.

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain felt the shift in him long before his voice carried through the corridor, long before the words themselves were shaped into sound. The Force tightened and warped around his attention as it settled fully upon her, compressing the surrounding currents into something dense and oppressive, a gravitational distortion that pressed against her senses without needing to announce itself. The corridor had already been saturated with violence and fear, but when Darth Carnifex turned toward her with deliberate focus, the atmosphere altered in character. It became heavier, more concentrated, as though the very fabric of the moment had narrowed to a single point of interest.

His promise followed, low and resonant, offering conditional mercy in a tone that suggested inevitability rather than negotiation.

She did not flinch. She did not shift her footing. She did not allow even the smallest fracture to form within the lattice she held around the survivors behind her.

Breath moved through her slowly and deliberately, drawn deep and released with careful control, anchoring a discipline forged over decades of hardship and refinement. The structure she maintained was no crude wall thrown up in desperation, but an intricate geometry of interlocking layers that curved and folded with adaptive precision, redirecting hostile force into controlled channels rather than meeting it head-on. Even as her reserves thinned and the sustained effort burned through her like a quiet, constant wound, she refused to let his presence unravel what she had constructed.

When she answered him, her voice carried without strain, threaded with calm that resonated through the Force as much as through the air.

"I have lived long enough," Jairdain said evenly, "to understand the weight of a Sith's promise, and I have yet to see one that was not paid for by someone else."

There was no anger in her tone, and no bitterness sharpened beneath the words. There was only certainty, the kind born from experience rather than idealism.

"You speak of sparing lives," she continued, reinforcing a weakened seam in her outer barrier as another probing strike sought purchase, "but everything shaped by your will leaves suffering in its wake. You do not bargain to preserve. You bargain to possess."

Around her, assassins continued their careful testing, slipping along the periphery in search of weakness. Balaya's presence pressed closer, layered with predatory confidence and dark augmentation. Each fluctuation required recalibration. Each recalibration demanded more of her. Yet she did not rush, nor did she panic. The lattice flexed, redistributed, absorbed, and reformed under sustained assault, resilient not because it was unbreakable, but because it was constantly adapting.

"I will not trade lives on the possibility that you might choose restraint," she said, her words steady even as crimson energy lashed against the outermost layer and bled harmlessly into grounded pathways. "You do not require my cooperation to do harm. You never have."

As she spoke, another presence entered the corridor's turbulent currents, bright and resolute. Jairdain felt it immediately, not as a disruption, but as an alignment. Syreeta's arrival registered as a clear, focused Light that intersected the geometry of her defenses without clashing against them. When the wounded Knight was seized and drawn into a protective cocoon, when telekinetic force knocked acolytes back from their claim, the lattice Jairdain maintained did not fracture. It stabilized.

Pressure eased along one collapsing vector. A section of strain that had threatened to buckle redistributed across a broader foundation. The outer layers of her construct strengthened subtly, not through expansion, but through reinforcement, two currents harmonizing in shared intent rather than competing for dominance.

She did not allow relief to distract her, but she acknowledged the reinforcement as one acknowledges solid ground beneath uncertain footing.

Even so, Carnifex remained dominant within the corridor, his presence reshaping the surrounding Force through sheer magnitude. The gravitational weight of him did not lessen because another Light had joined the field. It simply pressed against a structure that was now marginally more stable than it had been moments before.

"These people," Jairdain said quietly, reinforcing the inner perimeter as the Wendol shifted and Balaya advanced with calculated menace, "are not tokens to be exchanged for your amusement."

Her stance did not change. Her blade remained unignited. She presented no spectacle, no open challenge, no declaration of defiance that might draw singular focus. Instead, she compressed her signature further, maintaining the posture she had chosen from the beginning: not a duelist stepping forward, but a barrier embedded within the flow of violence.

"I will not step into your trap," she finished, her voice soft but unwavering. "And I will not abandon those who cannot step away."

Around her, battle continued to churn in layered currents of destruction and dark augmentation. Assassins moved through shadow. Sith power surged and refined itself with deliberate cruelty. Yet within the narrowing sphere she and Syreeta now reinforced together, people still breathed. They still clung to one another. They still possessed a fragile margin of survival carved from discipline rather than bravado.

As long as that margin remained, she would not move from where she stood.

Jax Thio Connel Vanagor Darth Carnifex Balaya Praelior Zambrano Balun Dashiell Syreeta Ming Veradun Sharr Ala Quin Helix

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Taera 'Calypso' CT-312 ​

Cassian gave Calypso a firm nod, a faint smile touching his features despite the smoke and distant explosions. He understood her instinct completely. This had been engineered long before the first diplomatic handshake.

"I'm with you," he said evenly. "We need to get to the bottom of this."

Two bodies hit the ground behind him in quick succession. Cassian pivoted smoothly, blaster already tracking, only to find the armored scout stepping into view instead of another hostile. He assessed her in a heartbeat, posture relaxing just enough to signal recognition rather than threat.

"You have our thanks," he replied with easy composure. "And you are right to assume. We are neither Sith nor Moorjan."

He glanced to Cal briefly, then back to their surroundings, scanning rooftops and windows with disciplined focus.

"She is right," he added, voice sharpening with urgency. "We cannot linger."

Cassian adjusted his grip on his blaster and shifted to cover their flank. "Let's move."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Sibylla Abrantes //:

Quinn lowered her hands as the woman spoke. She finally got a good look at her, now seeing the addition of the wound over her eye. That hadn't been there before, and Quinn wondered what party had happened there. Despite the tension, the disappointment in the Echani's eyes was evident. Though it wouldn't be for the reason the Voice would assume.

The woman had answered her questions; at least, there was nothing broken or bleeding. Quinn wondered if the pampered woman would have been able to take healing from a Sith. Not even some Sith could handle it and would rather bleed out slowly using that hate for fuel, than to endure the pain.

For a brief moment, Quinn's mind wandered to the trooper she had saved during the Kaggath. The agony on her face was something Quinn would never forget.

"I'm not going to let you die," Quinn scoffed slightly, not wanting to show any worry in her tone. She caught the trembling easily. Was it out of fear or pain? Maybe both. She didn't ask, though.

"If I was, I wouldn't have wasted my time." Her attention drifted to the others; they were gone, and all that was left were the two of them. Quinn didn't sense any other life in the vicinity, but she wasn't going to casually announce that to the woman.

As Sibylla went over the options Quinn had, the Echani moved toward those meant to be her allies. The woman's face showed the horror that her mind had gone through while the tendrils suffocated and crushed her. The tip of her boot moved the woman's head, almost inspecting the efficiency of her kill.

In reality, Quinn was just trying to not think about anything that had just happened. She wanted to ignore the little spark of hope and the surge of anger when she thought Sibylla was Bastila Sal-Soren . Quinn remained cold, distant... a Sith. The Republic had their ideas of what a Sith was and how they were supposed to act — why would Quinn try to change that?

Still…

"I told you I'm not going to let you die, so leaving you to your own devices is stupid." She quipped as she looked back towards the woman.

"We will regroup with Republic forces," she moved back towards Sibylla and stopped, a hand brushed back a few strands of her white-blonde hair. Her voice was softer melting the cold as it was just the two of them.

"Don't get the wrong idea," she started, doing her best to not look towards the Noble's face. "I did it, because I thought you were someone else…" Quinn's posture straightened, but the coldness didn't return.

There was a gentleness and worry in her gaze, one that didn't belong to a Sith. Not to one who just slaughtered presumed allies to save an enemy.

"Please," she started, something almost shuddered in her voice as she struggled to finish.

"Please tell me Bastila isn't here…" ​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Pari Sylune​

The first explosion rolled across the district with enough force to vibrate the transparisteel panels lining the elevated walkway where Aerik stood. He had expected it, yet the physical sound of it still carried weight. The docks were the objective, and now the operation had fully begun.

From his position above the main transit corridor, he could see Moorjay General Hospital rising through the skyline, its pale durasteel frame and wide glass panels catching the unnatural tint of the sky. The building appeared isolated from the immediate chaos, but that separation would not last long. Civilian panic always traveled faster than military precision.

He felt the shift in the Force before he saw it reflected in movement below. Fear expanded outward from the lower districts in uneven waves as word spread of the detonations. Traffic faltered. Sirens began to cut through the air. Security units redirected pedestrian flow toward reinforced structures.

Toward the hospital.

Aerik allowed the current of emotion to pass through his awareness without resisting it. He had grown accustomed to the way cities reacted when war touched them. Civilians felt shock first and understanding much later.

Amid the disorder, another presence caught his attention.

It did not flare like the others. It did not scatter or spike with panic. Instead, it narrowed and settled into itself with deliberate control. He followed the sensation carefully, tracing its origin without overextending his reach.

It led back to the hospital.

A Jedi stood within those walls.

The presence did not feel prepared for battle. It felt anchored in purpose that differed from the chaos unfolding outside. There was discipline in it, but not the aggressive kind he associated with trained combatants. This was restraint directed toward preservation.

Aerik studied the hospital more closely as security shutters began descending over portions of its exterior. Amber emergency lighting flickered to life inside the corridors, casting long reflections across the glass. Civilians moved toward the entrances with urgency, drawn by instinct toward whatever structure still promised order.

The hospital had not been designated as a target. It had not been mentioned in planning briefings. The docks mattered because they controlled supply lines and movement. His father did not wage war without intent, and Aerik had no desire to complicate that intent with unnecessary deviation.

Still, the Jedi presence inside the building remained steady.

Aerik descended from the walkway and moved through the street below, maintaining a measured pace as pedestrians shifted unconsciously to give him space. He did not ignite his blade. There was no threat in front of him that required it. His focus remained on the sealed structure ahead.

He stopped short of the guarded perimeter surrounding the hospital entrance. Armed security personnel stood alert behind hastily assembled barricades, scanning the streets and the sky for visible threats. None of them sensed the exchange occurring beyond their perception.

Aerik extended his awareness toward the building in a controlled manner. He did not strike at the presence he felt, nor did he attempt to breach the hospital’s defenses. He allowed only a subtle thread of darkness to move through the current, enough to be recognized by someone attentive to the Force.

He wanted to see if her resolve would fracture under pressure.

 

[Taera 'Calypso']

Tags: Cassian Abrantes | CT-312

Hostility hung in the Force as heavy as betrayal did, heavier than the smells of discharged plasma and death in the air. The drop of bodies made her spin around, pointing a blaster at the trooper that descended. Their armor matched neither the Moorjans, the Sith, nor the Republic. But Cal wasn’t about to turn down help.

She bit back the sarcasm that rose when the soldier lectured them for not looking up.

When Cassian casually verbally confirmed they were neither Moorjan nor Sith, Cal could have screamed. It had been drilled into her never to give up information nor confirm anything long before she crashed onto Epica, even when the assumptions were accurate. Especially when the assumptions were accurate.

Both the soldier and Cassian made statements about not lingering. Cal arched a delicate eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, checking the corners of the alley junction. Her skills as a sergeant in the Aurodium Guard had not been left to atrophy. She waved them on, taking point. Letting the unknown trooper take point was out of the question.

“If you can access local maps, Overwatch,” she said to the soldier, “I’d love to know a route to an information hub.”

She wanted the trooper to talk, to listen to the tone. It was the only way to get a read on them. Cal hated not feeling them through the Force, sensing nothing where there should have been a life signature.

For now, she led them toward the city center, trying to skirt around the fighting where possible. If ‘Overwatch’ could get them a specific route, that would make this impromptu mission far simpler. Meeting with one of the Sith was not ideal.

She wasn’t exactly keen on dealing with one again.

 

[Balun 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

"They will die, boy. Our trap has been laid, and they now stumble into it.

But you need not die with them. Your path to the Dark Side begins today, and I-

I will be your guide. But please, do come and do your duty. Strike me down, perhaps your master will make you a Knight?

​

Or maybe I shall bring her your head? She is so concerned for you, Balun."​

A shower of sparks, a flicker of flame and exploding glass and circuitry forced Balun to instinctively raise his arm and cover his face as the Lightsaber of Darth Nefaron ended Balun Dashiell's watch over his allies and Master. The presence of the Darkside enveloped the room. Yet, he hadn't heard the Sith Lord's arrival until the decrepit visage of a man stood before him, speaking with confidence and purpose, unsurprised to find Balun at the security monitoring station.

Pivoting on his right heel, Balun darted around to face the Sith, tugging his own weapon free from the magnetic plate of his belt and igniting the copper blade with a loud screeching discharge as energy screamed through the blade emitter and held stable for the enemy to see. Now within line of sight, Balun's eyes searched the other, taking in the Sith as though he were trying to read the other's intentions, though that had already been made clear.

Nefaron's speaking of the Darkside did not come as much more than the cliche that was Balun's experience with the Sith, yet the mention of his name caused him to falter, his skin rippling with a chill, standing the hairs on the back of his neck. "...You know of me?" Balun responded reluctantly, his eyes widening a little as the tension in his alarm faded momentarily.

If the Sith had somehow broken through into his mind, he was certain he would have felt it. Wouldn't he?

Balun had dealt with the Sith before. Darth Strosius, Revna Marr, Darth Malum of House Marr, and, of course, the mother to his son, Falentra. After leaving the New Jedi Order at sixteen, he had even walked among their kind as Falentra tried to sway him. He had since fought their kind on the battlefront, engaged numerous others in sabre combat, and redefined his standing within the light so that Kellan Dashiell would remain protected should the Sith turn their sights on the boy.

Balun knew their kind intimately and would not be taken in by their dogma.

The blade of his lightsaber churned with power as he lifted the weapon higher and took the hilt into both hands, his body turning side on from Darth Nefaron and holding the weapon at the ready, a generic Djem So stance, preparing to back his words with the raw strength and power of the fifth form of sabre combat.

"Whatever you think you know, whatever it is you seek...-You're only going to find disappointment, I'm afraid. If it's my head you want, you'll have to try and take it first, and I won't be an easy mark, no matter how confident you might feel".

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

"Speech"
'Thought'​