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

[Varin Mortifer]

Equipment: Eye of the Dragon, Black Blade of Chandrila, Heavy Mace, Heavy Phrik Plate Armor​

The parts of the wall fell on top of the Jedi that was still on the ground, pinning him with heavy duracrete. The yell of pain rose over the alley as the superheated smoke tendrils snaked along the ground towards him. Like a constrictor to its prey, it coiled around his legs, running up his body. His flesh burned and smoked as the heat came into contact with him, wrapping up his torso before diving down his throat, silencing his cries after a moment.

Varin stood before the three bodies and the crumpled ruins before him. The feeling he had over the ordeal was…impassive. He saw them all as mere annoyances. Bugs to be squashed and left forgotten.

She moved, quick, efficient and precise as she went for the back of his knee to bring him down. He did not move. Instead as she approached towards his back, the next thing she would see were the starving runes, flame erupting from his back to lash at her, a loud thunderous boom erupting from his body.

He was not just heat or flame. He was a walking volcano. A living eruption on two legs.

He always had some form of protection around him during battle. The runes on his back serving as a preventative measure to keep any back attacks at bay. Though the range was limited, it mainly served its purpose to make most think twice.

As Shade would react to the flames Varin would quickly turn to face her, a quick backwards swing with his mace heading straight for her midsection while his other hand occupied with his blade came up in the form of a guard, blade crossed at an angle over his torso. As the mace swung waves of flame seemed to follow behind it leaving a trail behind the weapon in its wake.

The superheated smoke tendrils slowly retreated back to the smoldering cloak upon his back like living appendages being recalled back to their home.

The goal of his attack to force her to move back or to the side, so he could respond with his blade.

Shade​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Darth Prazutis

​

"Time is not kind to any of us."

Zark San Tekka did not flinch away from the looming Sith Lord even when a dark aura threatened to consume his thoughts. Cortosis lining insulated the atrisian relic from mental influence and helped focus the Jedi's battle meditation. Narrowed eyes met an obsidian gaze that would drive weaker men mad from behind a partial face mask.

"I do not know why the Force curses me to survive when so many better Jedi have fallen. It is not my place to question destiny."

Interference caused by the ion storm and a burning spire power generator continued to threaten the local grid. Lights flickered all over the street casting them both in an eerie coruscation. Epicanthix blood dwarfed the old Jedi Master who could feel his old nemesis gathering power from deep reservoirs of hatred.

"Perhaps this moment is more than chance," Zark admitted, "But you are too certain the design is yours. Overconfidence has always been your family's weakness. Empires fall. Orders burn."

Amber plasma burst from the lightsaber hilt in his hand. Master San Tekka slowly raised the energy blade over his head in a Djem So combat stance.

"Even yours."

 

[Jax Thio]

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


The disturbance in the Force became stronger the closer Jax got to the diplomatic center. Carnifex already got to Jair, he could sense it. "Oh no." Jax muttered pressing foot against the accelerator the speeder going at max speed. As the building got closer, Jax could see multiple hostiles surrounding the area.

"Damn it I don't have time for this!" Jax muttered. But it looks he'll have no choice but to take them all on. The Jedi Master reached for his Lightsaber and was about to unclip it but all of a sudden, explosions filled battlefield. "Who?!" Jax's eyes darted everywhere wondering where was distracted that he didn't notice two speeder squadrons converging on his position. By the time Jax set his sights on them, the squadron was destroyed.

"I think I know whose handywork this is." A smirk formed on Jax's face. "Thanks Connel. I owe ya a drink!"

In the midst of the fiery chaos was a slope that led directly to the glass windows of the diplomat building. Jax closed his eyes giving himself to the Force as the speeder flew from the ramp and headed straight for the glass. The Jedi Master opened his eyes fired some blaster flak on the windows shattering it before going through the window. As soon as he was in, Jax leapt from the speeder allowing the fast moving vehicle to slam against 10 troopers blowing them to bits.

Jax landed on the ground feet first taking off of his robe as it fell behind him. He saw Jair facing Carnifex showing no fear despite being heavily pregnant and her Force energy starting to drain. Jax's gaze then met his father's for the first time in over a decade. This was it. No running now.

"Dad!" Jax unclipped his Lightsaber, the blue blade shot through the emitter and hummed close to Jax's ear. "If you wanted to see me again so badly, the least you can do was to write me a letter. Then again you're always one for theatrics."

Jax got into a stance. "You're not going to get away this time Dad. I've become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

The pressure valve shrieked. Steam burst across the ceiling in a violent plume, the sound of running boots against the metal filled the air with almost violent threat.

Bastila did not flinch, her eyes were watching Dominic instead.

He smiled, in that stubbornly way he did; even as the moment was approaching that he would have to leave her. “No more walls. Got it…”

Her jaw tightened faintly at the effort it cost him to make that joke. The concussion was clearly still there, sat behind his eyes.

Then his hand closed around her arm again and she froze. He didn’t place it there to guide, or to support. He seemed to do it just to hold her there for a moment.

“Bastila. I am not sure why it is…always you. Always me. But, thank you.” He said his words quietly, carefully chosen and for a heartbeat, the galaxy shrank to the sound of distant boots and his unsteady breath.

Her gaze softened, not dramatically or theatrically, but just enough that he would have noticed.

“It isn’t fate,” she said quietly enough that may have just been assuring herself rather then answering him. “It’s choice.”

Her eyes held his. Then he released her arm and said good luck, something flickered behind her composure; a brief flare of something protective, something unwilling to let that be the last word.

“Dominic…”

Blaster fire erupted. Red flame erupting through the steam haze and ripping apart their reality. She stepped back from Dominic, pushing him towards the exit, her saber igniting in one fluid motion as violet light dominated the corridor with a sharp, crystalline hum that cut through all the other noise.

He had already turned to run, not like a coward; but because he knew it was what he had to do, not to waste this moment. The time she was about to give him.

The first Moorjan soldier rounded the junction just as Dominic disappeared into the next passage and Bastila moved.

The corridor was tight and it gave her nearly no room to move. While the Moorjan maybe thought that would save them, it only truly made her more dangerous.

A pivot, a deflection, a bolt sent harmlessly into a conduit above. Steam cascaded down like artificial rain. She advanced rather than retreated, blade a controlled arc of violet light that forced the pursuing forces to slow. They took cover behind pipes and maintenance dips, their blasters occasionally spitting blind towards her.

She only had to delay, enough to buy him distance.

She had no reason to call out to him, he would already be far enough away that he wouldn’t hear her. Dominic would get to the shuttle and then he would be gone, again, so far into space that Bastila would have to forget he existed.

A bolt glanced across her shoulder, not enough to pierce but it burnt a small mark into her exposed skin. She didn’t react beyond adjusting her stance. On her wrist her bracer flashed once, a small red light that indicated a distress call from one of the other handmaidens.

And then softer, almost lost beneath the clash of metal and energy. “Good luck, Dominic.” He would hear that one. A voice that sounded lost upon the wind, like trying to listen to the voice in your head.

Then she stepped fully into the corridor, blade raised, posture settling into something unmistakably Sal-Soren. There was sudden hesitation in the soldiers before her as the corridor itself began to shake and rattle with her mere presence.

Bastila Sal-Soren was holding the line.

By choice.

And they all realised the mistake they had made.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Dominic Praxon EQUIPMENT:

​

 

[Glissara]

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

​

Covered in blood? Glissara nearly shivered at the thought as her features went flush with distaste. Even with her speed, she much preferred to vaporize her enemies from afar. And when it came to melee, her training was in momentum-based combat. A killing blow must always lead to another step forward. If she was standing still long enough for some wretched creature to bleed all over her, then she either was not moving fast enough or something had gone terribly wrong.

Like a broken leg, a torn ligament, or something far worse!

Nevertheless, Glissara was not about to debate the Empress of the Core regarding the merits of the Shatter Vector fighting style. That was a matter better demonstrated than told. Instead, as Mercy came up to the corridor, the Jango Jumper swiftly rebounded off of the nearby wall, using it to shift her momentum laterally before surging down the adjacent hallway in a blur of movement.

“I’ll come in from a different angle!” She called back over comms, her tone light and lilting in spite of the violence to come. From there, Glissara took the circuitous route, swinging around the room’s perimeter while making full use of her blistering speed. All the while, her ears gave a faint twitch upon catching the thunderous report of Mercy smashing her way through the wall. By that point, the room’s rear entrance loomed directly ahead.

Her disruptor pistol, whined, then fired. An invisible lancet of nonharmonic ethaerium plasma tore through the air at supersonic velocity, before explosively vaporizing a chunk of the door in a searing flash of superheated vapor. Glissara came hurtling through the gap less than a heartbeat later, her leg extended to deliver a flying kick aimed to strike the King of Naboo ( Aurelian Veruna ) in his skull!

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 (12)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Miniaturized Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (2)

 

[CT-312]

//: Taera 'Calypso' Cassian Abrantes //:
//: Moorja//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor | Contact Lenses| Navi/Barca //:
//: PRIMARY WEAPONS: VW 864 Maser Rifle //:
//: Secondary Weapons: LO-22S | Eight Blade Razorline Projector| Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | 6 x Shiva Knifes | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid | BioMedical Support System//:​

Rook remained pressed against the wall, silently observing the two strangers reposition themselves. Giving a nod to the man as he gave thanks. He moved without needing instructions, stepping back to cover their rear. Alert. The woman followed a moment later. Passing Rook with a wave as she took point. Her movement carried authority of the two. She did not look back to confirm compliance. She assumed it. That left Rook in the middle. One focused forward, while the other focused behind… Neither focused on her.

It would be so easy.

What was the word CT-312 had been searching for? ‘Ah— Entertaining.’ Especially after the woman had deliberately avoided her name. Instead replacing it with something neutral. Overwatch. If that was the game they wanted to play…

She ignored the layout of the whole city that was displayed on her HUD. With the heel of her boot, Rook pushed herself off the wall. Unhurried. The rifle dipped slightly as she rolled her shoulders. In a light tone emitted from the helmet’s vocoder, “Well— John and Jane, map you say?” There was an unmistakable hint of humor beneath the distortion. Holstering the rifle across her back, Rook jogged past them, returning to the fallen Moorjan operatives.

One laid face down where it struck the alley floor. Their limbs twisted unnaturally from the fall. Rook crouched beside the body, gripping its shoulder and flipping it over, indifferent. “S’cuse me, buddy!” Gloved hands moved quickly, patting down pockets and pouches. Only producing a small pack of stim-smokes. She held them up briefly. “Unfortunate.”

Moving on to the second body, this one had landed harder. Blood had already pooled beneath its torso. Rook searched, patting down once again. Finding a fractured datapad with its screen broken beyond recovery. Then her gloved fingers found something else. Smaller. A commlink, intact. She stood and turned back towards the two strangers. Boots echoing softly. “No map. Datapad’s busted.” Rook tossed the commlink underhand toward the woman. “But that might help with whatever radio chatter the Moorjans are feeding each other.” turning to the man, tossing the small pack of stim-smokes.

Rook unholstered her Maser Rifle, settling it across her chest. Grip firm, pointer finger resting along the frame just above the trigger housing. Disciplined and ready without tension. “If we come across a patrol, one of them’s bound to have a map.” A slight tilt of her helmet. “Or if there’s an access terminal nearby, I could try and hack it. Not the best. It’ll take time.” Her visor shifted between them. “ —And we’d be sitting porgs.”

BARCA pinged softly in her helmet. A red indicator appeared on her HUD, accompanied by a directional marker. Rook’s helmet turned first toward the man, “John.” then toward the woman in front of her. “Jane.” Without waiting, she stepped out of the alley. Her rifle snapped upward instantly, aligning with the distant threat across the street. A Moojarn operative had taken position behind a shattered transparisteel window several levels above ground. The moment Rook exposed herself, the operative fired.

CRACK. The first round struck her shoulder plate, its impact jolted through the armor. The kinetic force dissipated across the reinforced plating. Fragments burst from the wall and pavement around Rook as the remaining rounds hit. Durasteel chips and pulverized concrete spraying into the air. Eyes locked onto the muzzle flash in the window. “There you are.” Calmly adjusting her stance under fire. Compensating for elevation and partial cover, she steadied the rifle, and pulled the trigger.

The weapon answered with a controlled burst. Rounds punching cleanly through the compromised window. The shooter’s silhouette jerked violently before disappearing from view. Silence returned. Rook held position for half a second longer, confirming the absence of any additional threats before stepping back into the alley.

She rolled her left shoulder once, the motion subtle. Bruised, but functional. Rook’s visor locked onto the woman’s eyes. Her support hand lifted from the rifle, gesturing outward open palm toward the street beyond. An invitation. “Lead the way” Rook’s tone carrying the same amusement as before. She was ready to see where they would go next.

 

[Pari Sylune]

​

The Force tightened around her like a held breath, low, heavy, wrong. Not the sharp panic spilling through the wards or the frantic flutter of fear from civilians flooding the lower levels. This was deliberate. Focused. It pressed at the edges of her awareness with patient intent, like a hand testing a locked door.

He's here.

Her fingers stilled where they hovered above the sterilizer controls. Around her, Moorjay General continued to move, orderlies rushing, med-droids gliding, the sharp scent of antiseptic clinging to everything, but to Pari it all felt suddenly fragile. Glass-thin.

The darkness brushed her again.

She swallowed and closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, grounding herself the way her master had taught her. Breathe. Anchor. Preserve. The hospital was full of people who could not run, could not fight, could not survive if fear tipped into chaos.

Not here, she thought fiercely. You will not bring this here.

She slipped out of her surgical jacket and passed it to a startled nurse with a soft, practiced smile. "I'm going to help with intake," she said, voice steady. "I'll be back."

The corridors grew quieter as she moved deeper, toward a service exit rarely used except for supply transfers. Each step was deliberate. Her fear came with her and she didn't deny it, but she held it close, wrapped in resolve. Fear acknowledged could be managed. Fear ignored spread like fire.

When she reached the sealed door, she paused. The darkness was stronger here. Close enough now that it felt more like pressure.

Her hand trembled as she pressed the release. The door hissed open. Cool night air washed over her, carrying distant smoke and the metallic echo of conflict far too close for comfort. Pari stepped out onto the narrow platform beyond the perimeter, letting the door seal behind her.

She lifted her chin and spoke, not loudly, but with the kind of calm that came from choosing courage over instinct.

"This is a hospital," she said. "Whatever war you're fighting… it doesn't belong here."

Aerik Lechner

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Lorik's typing became faster and more frantic. "I've got him!" he exclaimed. "And he's almost got me..."

"Where is he?" Eloise demanded.

"Diplomatic hall's security room. Just down that way--" He broke off as Eloise ran out of the room, leaving him alone. "Great. Just great," he muttered, getting up and grabbing his lightsaber.

Eloise booked it to the security room, bursting through the door. She saw a droid, and some kind of... black goo?

Without wasting any time, she lunged forward, slashing through the security console the droid was using. The lightsaber not only burned through metal and circuitry, but could potentially cause whatever it came in contact with to catch fire. Eloise didn't stop there, already swinging her blade toward the droid itself in a full scale assault.

Helix​

 

[Kito]

//: Valaine Valentine //: Reina Daival //:
//: Attire //:

Today had been more eventful in ways Kito would have liked. Maybe she should have been tipped off, having run into Valaine on a planet like this. The Republic was supposed to be providing aid, and the council and senate were supposed to bring the planet into the government. Yet, none of that happened.

Everything happened so quickly; the small group of Jedi she had been with was taken out before she could react. Kito was separated from the rest of the Republic, but to her luck, she had run into Valaine. It was as if the Force itself orchestrated the lifeline for her. For that, she was thankful, but the events were starting to make sense.

Still, it wouldn't sour the small reunion.

Moving through the streets and cutting through the small mobs of people trying to escape. Kito held on to Valaine's hand tightly, not wanting to get separated in the panic. Luckily, with Kito's tall stature, she was able to see over the heads of the crowds and guide them through. Too many people were already losing their lives in the stampede.

"There's a clearing up ahead." Kito looked back quickly as she moved another person past her and Valaine.

Up ahead, a clearing had formed with supplies. It seemed the Republic or just citizens were trying to organize people into shuttles. The same shuttles that were being blasted from the sky by the Empire's forces every so often. Frowning, Kito was still unaware of the source of the chaos; her main concern was Valaine. She could hold her own, and that eased the Shaper's worries for the time being.

It didn't take long for them to cut into the clearing. Kito caught her breath from the sprint they had just endured, and she had let go for a brief moment as she coughed. Catching her breath, Kito looked to Valaine and smiled, mostly feeling silly for worrying too much about the Sangnir. In that moment, she remembered the endurance and the strength behind what Valaine was.

"I'm still going to ask, but you're okay, right?" Kito smiled as she nodded and took in another deep breath, trying not to seem as winded as she really was.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a flash of red hair and the sense of familiarity. Turning her head in full, she tilted her head, trying to make out the reasoning for seeing Reina. She hadn't seen the girl around the temple in months, half expecting her to have been one of the few to welcome the ronin.

"Valaine… Is that your friend?" Kito looked back at her companion, "The one from the coronation?"

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Lily Rhodes Gerwald Lechner Rik Perris

“My name is Lily Rhodes. I can help with evacuation.” Her hand moved over sensor readouts, building a map of the city around her. “Call out your locations and I can come to you…” she paused, “I realise that sounds like a Sith trick now that I say it out loud, but I promise you it's not. Let me help.”

Everything seemed to go crazy, and what had originally been a diplomatic summit turned into a deadly trap.

Blaster bolts streaked toward her, and Zaiya's two dozen bracelets gave a musical jingle as the Jedi Lovalla spun and whirled, sending out a telekinetic push. Her vibrant, colorful hair and bioluminescence shimmered across her rosy golden skin as the Force surged outward.

The traitorous Moorjvan guards were sent crashing back, and her opal blue eyes narrowed at the audacity, giving a rippling answering whip of her colorshifting over her skin as she made sure they were unconscious.

How rude!

This was not how hosts and hostesses served their guests. It was an affront to invite someone into your home only to cause them harm. A foul act indeed.

It made the typically happy go lucky Lovalla bristle, and if she had any feathers, they would be puffed up around her indeed. Instead, her bioluminescence flared in a medley of colors that rippled and danced and pulsed in silver and violet streaks of mild annoyance.

For someone who believed that invitations to one's home and breaking bread over a meal were really super de duper important, this was utterly the lowest of the low!

Just then, her comm crackled on an open line, and Zaiya heard an unfamiliar voice. It was someone offering help with evacuations.

She brightened, but even then, she paused. Could this be a trap? No no, through the Force, despite the betrayal crafted by this world's government against the High Republic the empath sensed the truth within the weave of the Force -- whoever it was, they really, really meant it.

They wanted to help.

Good.

[ Lily, hear you loud and clear. This is Jedi Padawan Zaiya Ceti. I am with two other dignitaries and will need that evacuation. Give me your location, and I can head there now. ]

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Valaine Valentine Kito
Attire

"I think it's broken!"

"Man up."

Reina slapped the citizen in the face, having none of their complaints. People were dying. There wasn't any time to waste because the guy thought his arm was broken. He could get that dealt with if he managed to get off world. For now, the Ersansyr chucked him onto one of the shuttles, heading over towards the pilot as she began the speech that she had given some of the previous shuttle pilots.

"They're targeting your main escape routes. Stay as low as you can in atmosphere, until you're far away from the city."

There was probably some kind of code or security pass that could identity the Shuttles as belonging to the Sith, but Reina didn't have access or knowledge to that. She had come here with the rest of the Sith, and perhaps it was part of her naiveity, but she had believed that this would have been an actual peaceful endeavour. It was making her question once again where she belonged in the Galaxy. Would this count as betrayal? Perhaps. But she had the strength to back it up. She'd stare down anyone who tried to stop her from saving innocent people.

Either way, she hopped off the shuttle to get back to helping those evacuate. Throwing her robes over her lightsaber for a moment, momentarily cringing to herself. If the clearing came under attack, Reina wasn't sure if she'd be able to use the weapon to protect the people. The moment they saw a red lightsaber, they'd break out into a panic. She wouldn't blame them for it. There was Whisperwind on her other hip, but a sword made for terrible protection against blaster fire.

You've done it again. You can't protect anyone. Death. Destruction. Flames. That's all you ever bring.

She had to quiet those thoughts in the back of her mind. Reina wasn't a Jedi. Not anymore. She was no hero. Barely even a Knight. But at the same time, she was no villain. Nor a Sith. Her intent was to help. Yet she froze for a moment, as there was...a familiar presence amongst the crowd. Her hand rested atop the hilt of Whisperwind, as she scanned through the crowds. For her, a familiar presence more than likely meant a Sith...Yet it turned out not to be that. At least she assumed, as her eyes spotted the rather tall figure of Kito .

Oh.

Reina just broke out into an awkward grin in the Jedi's direction, not even knowing that Valaine was near the K'Paur. There was a debate over whether or not she should keep on the move or head over to the...friend? Yeah. Friend fit Kito. There was every chance that the Jedi would notice something different about Reina...but at the same time, she was the same at her core. So she made her way on over.​

 

[Shade]

Shade saw the runes flare a fraction of a second before the fire came, providing a split-second warning that ultimately saved her life. The air behind Varin warped and rippled as if reality itself were recoiling, and then the flames erupted from his back in a violent, roaring surge that did not scatter or bloom outward like ordinary fire. Instead, they lashed, curved, and hunted, twisting through the alley with a deliberate intent as they snapped toward her like burning serpents guided by will rather than wind.

Heat slammed into her, manifesting not as mere warmth or discomfort, but as a suffocating, bone-searing wall that stole her breath and blurred her vision in the same instant. Reacting without thought, Shade did not retreat, knowing that a withdrawal would have trapped her in the pursuit arc of the flames and forced her into open space where they could coil, surround, and consume her. She could already feel their pull as they curved to follow her movement, adjusting in real time to her position, so she did the last thing they expected: she went forward.

She dropped low and sprinted straight into the inferno's shadow, her boots pounding across broken stone as superheated air tore past her back and the flames snapped at her heels. The fire was close enough to scorch both fabric and skin, causing pain to flare sharply and immediately along her calves and spine. As Varin began to turn, his mace was already swinging back, gathering massive momentum, fire trailing behind it like the wake of a comet.

Understanding that one wrong step would leave her crushed, burned, or both, Shade vaulted off a fallen slab of duracrete, using it as a springboard to throw her body upward and forward in a single committed motion. The flames curved after her and surged higher, but in doing so, they began to converge too tightly, collapsing inward toward Varin's own back.

She caught the edge of his shoulder plate with one hand, her fingers burning through the heat haze, and used the momentum of her jump to swing herself upward with ruthless efficiency. Her boots struck his back, slid, and then finally found purchase against the armor and rune-etched metal as she climbed him. Her knee drove hard into the gap between his shoulder and neck while one hand locked into the rim of his helm and the other hooked around the base of his horned crest. She hauled herself higher, her muscles screaming as heat washed around her, until she was positioned half on his shoulders and half against his head.

The flames snapped past beneath her now, unable to angle sharply enough without turning inward, leaving her balanced on a living volcano in the safety of the dead zone. Her forearm slammed across his throat from behind, using the leverage of her position to wrench his head back while her boots braced against his back and her heels dug in for stability.

"Too slow," Shade hissed under her breath, a statement that was neither taunting nor loud, but purely factual. Her blade flashed up in her free hand, angling down toward the vulnerable seams near his visor and neck joint in search of anything unshielded or not reinforced by runes and fire. She clung to him like a shadow made flesh, riding the storm she knew she could not outrun and using his own power against him

Varin Mortifer

 

[Cerys Dyn]

The girder groaned, a shriek of twisting metal that vibrated through Cerys’s boots. It was giving way. She didn't wait for the snap. So, she leapt.

She hit the floor in a low crouch, her saber hissing to life as she leveled it at the figure across from her. "You do not sound like her," Cerys said, her voice trembling as she fought to reconcile the monster before her with the memory of her sister. "You wear her face. And speak with her voice. But you are not Eira. Not anymore."

With tears blurring her vision, Cerys rose. She centered her weight, the hum of her blade the only sound she focused on, feeling the Force flowing through her in preparation.

"And you will find that I am not so easy to kill...Sith."

Eira Dyn​

 

[Dominic Praxon]

The ladder was a vertical gauntlet. Each durasteel rung felt slick with a cold sweat that wasn't there, and the world behind Dominic's eyes was beginning to tear itself apart. Thanks to the concussion, the single service shaft had split into a shimmering, nauseating double-image. He climbed by instinct and a desperate, burning spite — spite for the Moorjan soldiers, spite for the Force, and most of all, spite for the woman holding the line below.

Every heavy breath he drew felt like it was laced with the scent of ozone and violet light. Even as he pulled himself upward, he could feel it — a sudden, sharp pressure against his mind. It wasn't words, not exactly. It was the weight of her intent, a ghostly echo of "Good luck" that felt like a hand pressing against his heart.

It gnawed at him. He watned hate the tether. He wanted to hate that after all the "moving on" he'd claimed to do, he was still the one being saved. But he found no resolve to hate.

As he crested the top of the ladder and tumbled into the landing zone, the memory of their recent disasters hit him harder than the physical pain. He saw the cold, sharp lines of her face on the night he'd told her he would marry another for political gain — the moment he'd chosen duty over the fire between them. Then, the counter-memory...the Lightspire. The way she had looked at him with that terrifying, unhinged Bastila fury that had finally broken his resolve to care. They were two people who were spending years becoming experts at wounding each other.

"Sir! We have to go!"

The pilot's voice was a tinny, distant thing. Dominic felt hands grabbing his shoulders, dragging him toward the open ramp of the shuttle. The engines were already screaming, a high-pitched whine that made his brain feel like it was being compressed in a vice.

"Retract the ramp! Get us in the air!" the pilot shouted over the roar.

"No."

Dominic's hand shot out, catching the pilot's flight suit. He was slumped against the bulkhead, his legs refusing to hold him, but his grip was iron. His eyes were unfocused, darting toward the dark tunnel he'd just emerged from.

"Wait," he rasped, his voice cracking. "We...we wait."

"Sir, the sensors are showing a full platoon heading this way! If we don't lift now..."

"I said wait!" Dominic roared, a surge of adrenaline forcing his vision to snap into a singular, bloody focus for one final second. He dragged the pilot closer, his face a mask of desperate authority. "There is a Jedi. Lady Sal-Soren. She is going to be here. And you are not leaving without her."

He held the man's gaze until the last of the light began to become blurr. His grip loosened and his head fell back against the cold metal, the chaos of the landing area — the shouting, the alarms, the smell of fuel — all of it faded into a singular, haunting image.

The darkness claimed him, but he didn't see the war. He only saw her face.

Bastila Sal-Soren​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"The trap is already sprung, Jedi. Spread as thin as you are, there aren't enough Jedi to protect everyone." He gestured to the newcomer, the one that had stolen the catatonic knight from His acolytes. As they regained their ground, they drew forth wicked daggers etched with dark and horrific runes. Together, they hissed and spat in an ancient tongue known only to those well steeped in the occultism of the Sith. It mattered not if they died, they spent their lives eagerly in their Master's name.

The woman's defiance meant very little to the Dark Lord, who had been witness to all of the diverging eventualities of this confrontation. She was not unknown, tough there were possibilities where she never showed up at all, and ones where she'd died before reaching this point. However, He did take a moment to speak directly to Syreeta. "Brave little plaything you are, one would've thought you'd know your place. What was once broken can be remade."

But His true attention was reserved for Jairdain, the women His son so desperately coveted. "Even now, many more are falling into the snare. Jedi and diplomat, we'll harvest as many as we desire. When we're done here, the Blackwall will engulf Moorja and forever sever it from the galaxy. You will regret your disregard of my generosity, Jedi. It will not be offered again." He reactivated His lightsaber, the crackling red blade hissing and snapping from the emitter.

However, before He could do anything else. The Dark Lord pivoted and looked towards where, in just a few moments, Jedi Master Jax Thio would arrive. He'd turned to look long before the Jedi even made himself known, as though his coming had already been determined. He'd even maneuvered Himself just so that the hijacked speeder would harmlessly sail past Him, crashing and bursting into flames somewhere at His back. Jax's blue blade snapped to life, bathing the hall in contrasting shades with the two Sith's own weapons.

"We will see what your bravado brings you, young Jax." He assumed a combat stance, holding His lightsaber in His right hand and keeping His left further back. "Your defiance has been foretold and found wanting." Ever the aggressor, the Dark Lord spun forward through the air like a launched rocket. He closed the distance between Himself and His son in the same span of time it took for their heart to beat. He struck first, blade slicing through the air towards the Jedi Master's face.

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

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His mace found purchase with nothing as the weight on his back unsettled pulling him backwards some. He settled his stance to brace himself as she seemed to climb his towering physique, fingers finding purchase on his helm as he feet planted over his armor plating.

The flames just narrowly missing their intended target slinking back into the runes upon his back.

What she said next, boiled him to the core, as she flicked up her blade, a growl erupted from his throat as his mouthpiece opened up, a roar leaving his chest as lightning burst forth from his mouth.

The blast was violent and quick like a massive bolt of lightning, the flash temporarily blinding and the heat intense enough to burn flesh unprotected.

After the blast erupted from his throat he rammed himself backwards toward the wall behind him, as he drove his sword upwards to block her blade.

“You talk too much.”

His voice had begun to change, a deeper more animalistic tone as he started to give in to the bloodlust and rage that seeped beneath his flesh.

Shade​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

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

For all his feats, this Padawan has much to learn.
​

Nefaron did not need to break down the wall and enter his mind, for Balun had indeed made a name for himself in the past. He'd faced down the scum of the Wonosa, Strosius, and his ilk, and managed to survive. But he no longer faced the false Sith; he faced the Terror Lord and said the Lord had no intention of letting the Padawan leave, at least not on his own.

"Oh, your false bravado is so refreshing. Did you think I stumbled upon you by chance? It is rather convenient that you have been split away from your precious Grandmaster, but don't worry, she will be rather busy in a few moments."

Nefaron, lightsaber still cast to one side, began his approach, slow and careful. The Jedi had taken his stance, revealing as it was, and prepared to counter whatever blow the Sith Lord could inflict. But none came, at least not yet.

"Yes, I have come for you, Balun. I do take note of individuals who may prove... useful. Your Republic is doomed, you know, surrounded by a tide of darkness. Even you, one who has faced Darth Strosius, Lady Revna, and even the former Lord of the Tsis'Karr, Darth Marr, cannot stand against what is to come. But you know that, don't you? I need not see into your mind to see that you are troubled. What is then, love?"

The Corpse Lord laughed, cruel and low, as he stood but ten paces away. While he could not know the Padawan's entire life, there were always rumors of beings such as him, those who teetered on the line between light and dark. Though he resisted the temptations of the Dark Side before, once he was brought to Anoat, that would change.

He would be broken there. Molded into the weapon Nefaron needed.
​

"I am not here to convince you that the Sith are righteous or that our ancient blood feud is nearing its end. I am here to bring you home. Anoat. You know it not, and yet I will ensure you are well acquainted with it when we leave this doomed world."

Now it was time for the theatrics, the necessary game that must be played to ensure Balun knew that there was no victory to be had, not this day. Despite his frailty and age, Darth Nefaron was a master of Juyo, raw aggression, and speed, combined together in a being well-versed in the Sith arts. It had been so long since he got to test himself against a Jedi, so why not this boy?

In an instant, Nefaron had leapt forward, blood-red blade brought forth in a flurry of blows while he seemingly reveled in battle. To an outside observer, it appeared as though the Corpse Lord fought as if he were intoxicated, with heavy blows and seemingly nonsensical movements designed to distract his foe. He might as well be drunk, for the Dark Side was an intoxicant all its own, and Nefaron perhaps partook the most of its corrupting power.

"I wonder, will you feel your master's pain? Will you feel the life leave her?"​

 

[Shade]

Even as she angled her body forward, the lightning's discharge burst past her shoulder in a blinding flare that whitewashed the world around her. The heat washed over her from behind like a sudden furnace blast, acting more as a concussive shockwave than a direct strike and ripping the air from her lungs without fully catching her flesh. She knew with a grim clarity that leaning backward would have resulted in her being impaled, yet leaning forward into the chaos had provided the narrow window she needed to survive.

The instant his blade began its upward drive, Shade felt the subtle shift in his shoulder and the torque in his arm that telegraphed the trajectory of the strike. If she had remained stationary, the rising edge would have speared cleanly through her ribs, and any attempt to dismount would have dropped her directly into the lethal range of his mace or the next eruption of flame. Instead of retreating, she chose to fold her center of gravity low against the crown of his helm, her chest pressing nearly flush with the back of his head as her body flattened along the line of his skull and upper back. The sword screamed upward through the space she had occupied only a heartbeat earlier, the tip carving a wake of heat through the air so close that she felt the displacement ripple along her spine.

The lightning, however, proved to be the greater ordeal. When the roar tore from his throat, and the bolt exploded outward, the flash tore white across her vision, leaving her senses reeling. The edge of the blast clipped past her shoulder with more force than flame, tearing a strangled breath from her lungs while the scents of burned fabric and ozone filled the air.

Despite the pain flaring hot and bright across her skin, she refused to release her position. She shifted her weight once more, abandoning the strike she had originally intended and snapping her forearm down toward the side of his helm to interfere with his line of sight. Her arm glanced off the armored ridge near his visor, jarring his aim just enough to throw the next surge wide rather than allowing it to tear straight through her center. It was not a total stop of his momentum, but rather a redirection by a mere fraction, and that fraction was all the opening she required.

The counter move came when he drove backward with brute force, sending them both toward the nearby masonry. The impact with the wall arrived hard and sudden, the shock of the stone rattling up her spine and shattering the surface under the sheer weight of the collision. Pain burst through her back and shoulders, yet she focused on riding the impact rather than fighting against it. At the last possible instant before his weight could crush her against the wall, she pushed off his shoulder plating and twisted sideways to let gravity take her. She slid along his armored flank instead of falling down his front, her boots scraping across scorched metal as she dropped clear of his weapons.

She hit the ground in a low, controlled crouch just off his side, one hand braced against the duracrete to steady herself, the other already bringing her blade back up into a defensive guard. Her vision continued to swim from the lightning's glare, and the world seemed to lag at the edges as shadows stuttered half a heartbeat behind every motion. She blinked hard once, forcing her focus back through sheer discipline as she realized he was beginning to change.

She could hear the transformation in the shift of his voice, which was growing deeper and rougher as he traded calculation for raw instinct.

"You always mistake economy for conversation," she replied evenly, though her breath was tighter now and the heat was still crawling beneath her skin.

She did not charge back into the fray. Instead, she began to circle him slowly, keeping herself just beyond the primary arc of the mace while tracking the angle of his sword with unwavering focus. Her movements were smaller and sharper now as she worked to conserve the energy she had spent climbing him.

If he was intent on giving himself over to fury, then she would give herself entirely to precision, waiting patiently for the inevitable moment when his rage finally reached too far.

Varin Mortifer