Skirmish Tales of the Underground: Operation Dawn Veil [TJO vs. DIA]

[Wuxia Wukong]

Wu frowned as he considered the dragon man Laphisto's points. They were well reasoned, well argued. The points of a philosopher or perhaps a lawyer. Wu often wondered if he would have been a just lawyer. He did so love a debate. Wu considered his counter points carefully for a few moments before speaking, a gentle frown on his forehead.

"I would like to believe you. Truly I would. I do not know the Diarchy well, yet I know certain truths. Your masters are former Sith. They have removed the Darth, yet retain their suffix names." Wu made his first point calmly. "Nor do I believe they have entirely renounced the dark side."

"Your government seems to believe it is the best culture in the galaxy. That is elitism, which leads to oppression. That your expansions are justified due to this." Wu made his second point with a shake of his head. "Such arrogance of belief that one is totally in the right, that one's nation, culture, way of life is the best is what has lead to too many wars and conflicts."

"I believe the Jedi with whom I serve have pure intentions. I believe those whom I protect have expressed their wish for freedom. It would be weak, cowardly and duplicitous for me to simply abandon them to their fate in the naïve hope my adversary is as honourable as he appears." Wu explained.

"I cannot accept at face value an opponents proclamations of safety and security for my charges, no matter how much I wish they were to be true." Wu spread his hands in a gesture of 'what would you do' gesture.

"You claim the Jedi of old, of your time, attempted peace, diplomacy and negotiation. So let me ask you. How many times were you forced to turn away from those in need due to diplomacy? How many times did you sit idly by while tyranny, oppression, evil caused untold suffering? How often did you do nothing?" Wu grimaced at his own conscience squeezing his heart.

"I remember times when I did much the same." Wu said softly, quietly his voice full of shame, and grief.

"I was one such Jedi. Content to merely wonder the galaxy where the Force willed ignoring the conflicts of the greater powers. Pretending to be blind to the suffering caused. I have decided to no longer do nothing. I have acted." Wu took a breath "Perhaps it is the wrong course of action, perhaps I am like the Jedi of old. Unknowingly leading clone slave soldiers to their deaths in an unjust war. Convinced by the actions of the other side of the righteousness of my own… I hope not."

"My course is my own, but once set upon, it is not easily shifted. I have been told by people afraid, people in terror they wish to leave. I find no wrong in that and will do my utmost to protect them so that they may." Wu nodded satisfied with that argument as a good reason to defend the people and help them escape.

"Without interference." Wu said the last with firmness.

Then smiled brightly and gently.

"Though I appreciate the debate it is most illuminating."

Too many of his students got confused looks on their earnest faces, as he argued a point, back and forth, half arguing with himself in an effort to clarify his own views. It was refreshing to debate with someone skilled enough to do so with such a vastly different perspective to his own. Wu took a small breathe.

"It is a pity we could not meet under auspicious circumstances. I imagine I would enjoy a long conversation with you on many subjects." Wu inclined his head slightly in respect.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto listened in silence, his gaze fixed on the Jedi as the man spoke with conviction and sincerity. There was no malice in Wu's words only belief. Belief was dangerous, Laphisto had learned, precisely because it burned so brightly that one could no longer see the shadows it cast. When the Jedi finished, Laphisto exhaled through his nose and gave a slow shake of his head. "You ask how often I did nothing," he said quietly. "Less than you think, master jediand more than I should have."

he shifted his weight from one foot to the next as he half leaned His voice carried the gravel of memory, tempered by restraint rather than pride. "I have seen what comes from rushing to action without understanding. I have watched entire worlds burn because someone was certain they were right. Peace through violence is no peace at all it's simply terror with a cleaner banner."

He paused, letting the words breathe, his visor turning back toward the Jedi. "The Order I knew believed diplomacy alone would save them. They thought reason could calm every storm. But when they failed to act, empires rose. And when they acted without reason, those same empires turned to ash. The truth lies somewhere between the two and too few ever find it."

Laphisto's tone softened, though a frown creased his features beneath the helmet.
"The Force does not demand that we act," he continued. "It demands that we understand why we do. To draw a sword without first offering a pen is to condemn an entire people to one label enemy. And I have buried enough under that label to know the weight of it."

He lowered his rifle slightly, though not in surrender. The motion was contemplative, his posture relaxed but unreadable. "The Diarchs, do wield the Dark Side. That much is true and not something they hide. But they do so in balance. They acknowledge the darkness, the way one acknowledges fire: not to revel in it, but to ensure it does not consume the light."

For a moment, his voice grew distant, almost wistfull"I learned long ago that rejecting one half of the Force out of fear of corruption is no virtue. It is ignorance. Perhaps your masters have forgotten that. Perhaps mine remember it too well."

Laphisto exhaled, the sound low through his respirator, and finally tired of the weight across his chest. With a practiced motion, he slung his rifle onto his back, the weapon locking into place against his armor with a magnetic snap. His hands rose as he spoke open, unarmed, deliberate. "Those who walk the path of the Dark Side," he began, his voice calm but resonant, "are not bound to evil any more than those who walk in the Light are guaranteed virtue. The Force is not a compass it's a current. And anyone, Jedi or Sith, can drown in it if they mistake their conviction for truth."

His gestures were small but expressive, his tone level and precise the cadence of a commander used to both briefing troops and addressing philosophers. "If this state you call despotic were truly an empire of tyranny," he said evenly, "you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. We would have fired first and asked questions later."He let that hang for a heartbeat before motioning lightly toward Wu, the faintest tilt of his clawed hand.
"The fact that you stand here, speaking your mind accusing the Diarchs of corruption and their followers of blindness — without so much as a weapon raised against you… that should tell you something."
Laphisto's gaze shifted briefly around the clearing, noting the soldiers still holding their rifles leveled at the Jedi. He cleared his throat softly, the corner of his mouth twitching under the respirator. "Metaphorically speaking, of course," he added dryly. "Considering the circumstances, I imagine thisdoesnt help make my point but to be clea. Their orders are precautionary not punitive. You're being aimed at for alleged slavery, not for dissent."

His head tilted slightly, his tone softening from argument to explanation "Any citizen under Diarchal law may question their rulers. They may speak against policy, against leadership even against the Diarchs themselves without fear of reprisal. That isn't oppression, Master Jedi. That's accountability. That's trust."He let his hands fall back to his sides, shoulders squaring as his gaze lingered on Wu "A ruler unchallenged is a ruler untested. And the Diarchs, for all their power, understand the weight of the eyes that watch them."

A brief pause followed not silence, but reflection. "The galaxy has seen what happens when leaders place themselves above scrutiny. When faith becomes law, and power goes unchecked. The Diarchy was built from the ashes of those mistakes Jedi and Sith both." Laphisto's voice dropped a degree lower, quieter but sharper. "We did not abandon morality, master jedi . We simply stopped pretending that the Light was the only place it could be found."

For a moment, silence filled the air only the faint hum of the soldiers' rifles and the soft rasp of his respirator breaking it. Laphisto's gaze drifted downward, his expression hidden behind the blackened visor. When he finally spoke again, his tone carried the gravity of memory. "In my time," he began slowly, "after the Council discovered what Ajunta Pall was teaching, they branded him and his followers as heretics blasphemers against the very fabric of the Order. Their answer wasn't dialogue. It was extermination."

He paused, his voice softening with the weight of recollection. "And they sent me to do it. To hunt down the man I had once spoken with, learned from… a man I had encouraged others to listen to. Because I had dared to believe that knowledge even dangerous knowledge deserved to be heard. Tell me, Master Jedi" He lifted his gaze again, looking at Wu and the ship behind him briefly. "What is true freedom, if not the freedom of thought? The freedom of expression? the freedom of choice?"

A faint bitterness edged his next breath. "The Council feared ideas more than weapons. And in doing so, they made martyrs of thinkers." Laphisto's arms crossed over his chest, his posture heavy with conviction. After a moment, he reached up, unsealing the clamps of his helmet. The hiss of escaping pressure broke the quiet, and he lifted it free revealing a face weathered by centuries of conflict. His eyes were calm, steady, but there was something ancient in them something that had seen too many crusades disguised as righteousness.

"Fear," he said quietly, "is the oldest chain in the galaxy I've seen it raise armies, silence truth, and burn worlds to ash. The people you fight for they may well be afraid, Master Jedi. But fear taught is fear controlled. And I've lived long enough to recognize who always profits from that arrangement."

He let his words hang for a moment, letting the truth settle in the space between them. Then his tone softened, almost mournful.
"Who's to say these people weren't lied to? That their fear wasn't shaped crafted to keep them compliant? To make them see enemies where there were none?" His eyes drifted over the horizon, as though looking beyond the battlefield itself. "Who's to say this whole conflict wasn't orchestrated another design of those who thrive on division to make us turn our blades on each other yet again?"

Wuxia Wukong

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Dantooine
Tags: Lorn Reingard
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

---

As the distance manifested between them, Reign marked the adoption of the form V stance.

good this will make it easier

Form V was familiar, and Reign was eager to see how an adversary fared against his own "Dominion" variation of the form. His anger surged but he had no time to utilize it as the Jedi began probing attacks.

As his enemy's saber was brought upward Reign caught it with his own blade in a low horizontal block, duplicating the move as the upward stroke was tried again. Finally bringing the bronze blade in an arc to bat the gold blade of the Jedi away from his thigh.

Pivoting away with the momentum of the block, Reign brought his blade back across in a horizontal strike looking to cut his enemy in half. Following it up with two diagonally downward strokes from the left and right sides, looking to do his own probing of the Jedi's defenses.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

I think the manifesto has been established…? I got lost? Lost in my thoughts? I guess so. There are fights everywhere around me. I don't know where I'm going anymore, or what I'm doing. Is it the alcohol that's gone to my head? I think it is, even though I only had two drinks well, two… I don't remember, I don't know…

The corridor stretches and stretches as I move forward. I stumble, I see the walls shifting, stretching, twisting. I bump into a wall and fall backward the contact with the cold pavement hurts. What was I supposed to be doing again? Why are there fights all around me while I'm all alone? I should at least try to get back up.

They're all traitors, Jedi, manipulators, thieves just like the former governor! This planet, I should wipe it out, yes, that's it, wipe it out. Nyva hates it anyway; she refused to come because of the old governor.

What are they all trying to run from? The diarchy? No, you don't run from the diarchy if you've got nothing to hide, you're welcome. But if you run away like a rabbit, I have to find out why. Everyone's busy, and here I am, struggling to stand, using the wall for support, hand on my head, grumbling hard.

"What the hell is this mess?"

Did someone spike my drink? Who knows. I have no idea. I try to check my datapad, but it's glitching out completely. I give up on reading a map impossible. My vision's too blurry.

What the hell is this zbrouf? I'm completely out of it; everything's spinning around me. I'm dizzy now, forced to sit down on a chair and sigh. This really isn't my thing. The metro isn't far, but the way I'm staggering not easy at all. I've had enough. Why? Why can't I think straight?

"Idiot."

tag: open all

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Diarch Reign​

Light clashed across the plains, each strike echoing like thunder. Lorn advanced, driving his offense, but Reign met every blow with unshakable precision. His blade moved with purpose, a master's confidence behind every deflection. When Lorn's final sweep came low, Reign turned it aside with a smooth, brutal arc that nearly took Lorn's balance with it.

The Jedi steadied himself, boots grinding in the dust as the Diarch pivoted. Lorn caught the glint of motion a half-second before the counter, a sweeping horizontal strike meant to bisect him. He dropped low, his saber rising in a slanted guard to catch the blow. The impact snarled between them, the Force rippling outward like a heatwave.

Two more strikes followed, heavy and precise, crossing from left and right. Lorn turned with them, his body flowing through each parry. He redirected the energy away, letting the Force absorb the shock rather than meeting it directly. Sparks flew from every contact, golden and bronze flaring like suns colliding.

"You've studied this well," he said, voice calm despite the strain. "But strength without restraint… that's how the dark takes root."

He exhaled slowly, centering himself. The Force pulsed around him, a quiet tide. Then he moved.

Lorn pivoted on his heel, diving forward, channeling all that gathered momentum. His saber cut upward in a powerful two-handed arc, his stance deep and solid. He twisted through the follow-up, bringing the blade back down in a diagonal slash, the air itself shuddering from the weight of the strike.

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

Objective: Site One
Attire: Large brown hoodie, grey shirt
Equipment: Dathomiri Energy Bow, practice saber
Tag: Jared Starchaser | Open to opposition

This was the first time that Aileni was going on a big mission. The young Padawan was fairly nervous since he wasn't sure how he would be able to cope and he was determined to do the best he could. This mission was something that was leaning into skills that he desired to achieve as a Jedi Shadow. He wanted to be stealthy, working in the shadows to undermine oppressive regimes. Stretching his limbs, Aileni thought about what they were meant to be doing on the mission. He wasn't hundred percent sure how they were going to extract everyone that was in need of the support from the High Republic and the Jedi but Aileni figured that the Knights and Masters had some plan.

He was curious to see how things worked within the Diarchy and see what information could be gathered on the Diarchy and their connections. Aileni knew that he was training to be a Jedi Shadow so he was always attempting to find out ways to hone his skills and attempt to work things out. So, he added his own missions on top of the priority of saving everyone. Aileni was curious how it would be fighting the Diarchy since they weren't like the Sith, they weren't as oppressive and evil in the same fashion. But there was still something that wasn't good.

Holding the energy bow in his hand, Aileni could feel the tension in the air, the rising sensation that a conflict was incoming. Aileni swallowed hard as he tightened the grip on the bow. "This isn't going to go down well..." Aileni whispered to himself, he knew something was bad but what it was, he couldn't be sure. His suspicions were that the Diarchy were on to them that they attempts to be discreet had failed. Looking around, Aileni searched for someone that he could forewarn or at least get an idea of what they needed to do next.

"Hey, Aileni Xeraic. Padawan. Urmm... Not got a lot of time to explain but we need to get everyone out of here. They are coming!"

 

[Pari Sylune]

"Oh yes, and my name is Aknoby, so please, could you excuse us and allow us to bring this man to justice peacefully?"

Pari was confused now. She thought they were here to take Force users off planet that were being enslaved.

…. But like my partner said, if you stay, you'll most likely be released once we figure everything out, and you'll be able to enjoy what's left of this Gala.

“Why don’t we all go together to talk to the man who put me in charge of the baron? If everyone is willing to talk this out then there is no need for violence. Lorn Reingard shouldn’t be far.”

Saul Whesai Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby smiles and looks at Saul Whesai l.

"Okay, let's go then. Take us to him."

He widens his eyes, sensing a very familiar and close presence in the Force.

"Oh no, Diarch Reign is here."

He sighs. "We're going to have a lot of trouble until we really resolve this, and apparently we're in the middle of someone's scheme to pit the Jedi against the Diarchy."

He says all this hoping that Laphisto histo histo will hear it through the communicator.

"And it's going to be really complicated to confirm this if the two sides are fighting each other... or maybe it's the best time?"

He says looking to Saul Whesai and Pari Sylune but waiting Laphistos opinion

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Looking back at his ship, he nodded. It was time to keep moving. He was here out of concern for the rest of the galaxy. And it easier for him, he wasn’t bound traditionally by the Jedi dogma, but instead by his honor and drive to do what was right. Jensaarai learned, Warden of the Sky actually, he was a Hunter of the Outer Rim, and that meant he was just as as apt to be in some slum city as he was the wilds of the Outer Rim.

And here? Well, this was a mission where he could prove his skills in the shadows, in that odd space between the light and the dark. Lightsaber nearby, and his new bladed weapon too, he moved until he came across the padawan, someone that was going to be able to give him assistance here.

“Diarchy?” Jared asked. He wasn’t too verbose on the best of times. But with not much time to explain? That was not going to make him chat much more. “Got a ship, who do we need to get out?”

Aileni Ifor Xeraic

 

[Aiden Porte]

Iandre Athlea Kallous Trace Xyston Jared Starchaser Wuxia Wukong Aileni Ifor Xeraic Lorn Reingard Pari Sylune
​

"I do this not from anger, nor from distrust…but from duty. And my loyalty…is to the Force, not to a command or a title. I will not strike at you, friend, but I must fulfill what I am called to do."

"You Jedi have a reputation for being reasonable people." He said to start. "I hope that holds true. Because you have two choices in front of you. The reasonable choice, surrender peacefully, give truthful testimony and face a fair trial and perhaps release back to your order once your sentence is passed. And the unreasonable choice, where you refuse to cooperate with us, and people are liable to get hurt. I would rather not cause any more harm than I must."

Aiden felt it the way one feels a hand closing around the throat of the night sudden, hot, and wrong. The current that ran through Kallous was not merely stern discipline or lawful purpose; it tasted of iron and hunger, a shadow braided through intention. The dark thread coiled in the man's presence and, for the first time that night, Aiden's calm sharpened into a blade of certainty.

"I will not be taken hostage, not by a Sith. Nor by those who harbor them freely. Neither will anyone who wishes to feel Diarchy lands, of their volition."

Iandre's hand hovered near his arm. For a beat he let her touch remain an option, some small tether to the fragile reason that still bound many here to civility. Then the truth settled like ash between them and he stepped back, deliberate and slow. His gaze slid to her, sorrow first, then something colder. The realization was a simple, merciless sentence: so the rumors were true. Darkness. Not hidden at the edges, but woven into the ranks, and tolerated.

He did not move to surrender. The word sat bitter in his mouth. He would not be handed over to something that wore the Diarchy's face and the Sith's heart.

He gave none. Saying the name of the thing that had been suspected would not make it less real. It only confirmed the choice he would not make.

Aiden closed his eyes and reached inward, finding the bright, steady core he had been taught to trust. Light was not absence of shadow but the discipline to hold a steady flame against it. He drew that flame up through him until it hummed at his skin and sang along his teeth. The Force answered, a chorus that moved faster than words.

He sent the message then not spoken, but poured through the same channel that had warned him of storms and whispered comfort in dark hours. It unfurled like a bell through the minds of every Jedi within earshot: Leave. Now. Extract the hidden, protect the willing to flee the Diarchy's clutches and its rule. Do not be detained. Do not be bargained away. Move as one.

No flourish. No spectacle. The clarity of the command was itself a weapon: a single intention to cut the threads before and after.

He looked once more at Iandre, and the sorrow there remained, for the fracture in what had been, for the inevitability of what must follow. Then he turned his face away and let the light of the Force carry his will outward, steady and uncompromising. The gala's music swelled above them, brittle and unaware; beneath it, the movements of attraction had already long begun. Shiraya's Hope was already long on the move, clearing out who they could. They would not be held prisoner here, not while the Diarchy kept agents of darkness in their ranks.

It was a quick sudden burst of energy, aided by the force, as jumped over Kallous onto the lower level, his hand reaching outward, force sending out a power burst of blinding light to obscure their sight. His weapon drawn, the blue blade coming to life not for attack, but for defense. If the tried to openly attack him, they would fail.

 

[Kallous]

Aiden felt it the way one feels a hand closing around the throat of the night sudden, hot, and wrong. The current that ran through Kallous was not merely stern discipline or lawful purpose; it tasted of iron and hunger, a shadow braided through intention. The dark thread coiled in the man's presence and, for the first time that night, Aiden's calm sharpened into a blade of certainty.

"I will not be taken hostage, not by a Sith. Nor by those who harbor them freely. Neither will anyone who wishes to feel Diarchy lands, of their volition."

Kallous' anger briefly wavered when these words were spoken, giving way to amusement and some small measure of confusion. What did he mean by "wish to flee Diarchy lands"? There was a process to do so, and it wasn't particularly hard. Though this was pushed to the wayside when Aiden moved, and his amusement likewise faded into focus. He wouldn't speak any further. This interaction was enough to tell him all he needed to know. This man was not one who could be negotiated with, a shame.

I am one with the force and the force is with me

Kallous allowed his eyes to close, and let himself sink into the deep ocean that was the force. The maelstrom was upon him, now all he needed to do was ride its currents, and the force would take care of the rest. He would be exactly where he needed to be, when he needed to be there. With the force as his guide, and his anger as his fuel, he moved as Aiden did. The Force's currents carried him away, and like a vessel on the water he rode them. Coiling his legs under him like a spring, and channeling the force through them he too took to the sky, leaping straight up and twisting midair to plant his boot into Aiden's chest with enough impact to send him back to the ground.

If his blow landed, he would have succeeded in keeping Aiden where he, Iandre Athlea and Trace Xyston could surround and subdue him. It wouldn't be easy, but Kallous would rather not kill this man if they didn't have to. Especially since it was clear he and Iandre had some history, and perhaps once he had been... compelled to calm down, she could have another go at convincing him.

If not, he would twist back to land in the same place Aiden would in order to better engage him still. He couldn't let a criminal simply leave after all. Even if they were a Jedi who thought they were doing good work.

Aiden Porte , Iandre Athlea , Trace Xyston

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Aiden's burst of light cut through the gala, a sudden flare that left the hall momentarily stunned. She saw him—even through the brilliance—moving with precision, each step carrying him further from them, further from her. The surge of Force energy he commanded was undeniable, every motion a testament to the resolve she had always respected. And yet, in that movement, she felt the irrevocable distance form between them.

Kallous followed, shadow coiling through the air with intent, booted feet striking like weight against gravity, anger and duty braided together. Iandre's pulse quickened. Part of her wanted to step forward, to intervene, to shield Aiden even from those who might claim to act in his name. Her senses strained, aware of Kallous's calculated movements, the precision of his attack, the inevitability pressing down.

Her hand rose instinctively, a flicker of motion toward him, but she stopped herself. The moment she intended to reach, the memory of Aiden's will, his choice, the line he had drawn, pressed against her like a tide. She could not—would not—bind him to her concern. Not now. Not ever.

As she watched him slip through the chaos, memories surfaced unbidden. The first time she had met him, the quiet patience he had shown when she struggled to center herself in the Force. The calm steadiness that had always grounded her during missions that left others trembling. The way he had listened—truly listened—when she had no words for her fears or doubts. Those moments had shaped a bond more enduring than proximity—a quiet history woven of trust, respect, and shared understanding. And now, she felt the echo of those times in the empty space his absence left.

Her grey eyes followed him, tracing the flash of golden light as it receded down the hall, weaving through the chaos, slipping through the grasp of even Kallous's formidable reach. She felt the ache settle deep in her chest, the quiet, unmistakable grief of something lost yet still alive.

"Aiden…" she whispered, a breath full of memory, trust, and the silent acknowledgment of a bond she could not carry forward. Her voice trembled only slightly, the weight of letting go pressing into every syllable.

Kallous moved like a storm behind him, a controlled force of discipline and power, yet she did not act. Not to stop, not to redirect. She could see him, see the gap widening, and understood fully that her power here was in restraint. Her instincts, honed over years of training and trust, screamed to act, but she let them be, letting Aiden's choice, his freedom, take precedence over every impulse.

Her chest ached, a quiet, constant thrum of loss that no technique, no meditation, could soothe. She let the Force cradle her sorrow, anchoring her to the moment without seeking to alter it. She could only witness, only hope that he remained steady within the currents he had chosen to navigate.

In that space between action and acceptance, she felt the profound, irrevocable truth of their friendship: that sometimes love—the steadfast, unwavering care of a friend—meant letting go even when it hurt, even when it left her hollow.


"May the Force keep you steady… even when we cannot. Maybe someday we will reconnect. Until then...May the Force be with you."

Her hand fell slowly to her side, every ounce of tension leaving her. In that release, she found clarity: she had let him go—truly, utterly—and in that surrender, her grief became a testament to the trust she held, the respect she bore, and the deep, unwavering bond that even distance and choice could not sever.

Aiden Porte Trace Xyston Kallous

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

Objective: Site One
Attire: Large brown hoodie, grey shirt
Equipment: Dathomiri Energy Bow, practice saber
Tag: Jared Starchaser

Aileni nodded his head, "yeah, Diarchy." It was the only explanation for the danger that his senses were going off for. Looking around the crowded refugee area that they were in. "Well, I thought we are meant to be trying to get everyone out of here but I am not sure there is time... I don't know who is priority or who is going to be safe here."

It didn't make sense that anyone here would be safe after being caught attempting to flee to the High Republic space. The Diarchy were likely to be making a stance that those opposed to their rule were dangerous. It was always the way that propaganda worked. It had to be dangerous outsiders who were taking away people, or violent protestors that threatened the tentative peace that was being upheld. That greater security, that a firmer iron fist was needed to maintain peace.

Because only further violence would maintain peace. Not actual attempts to establish peace.

"What should I be doing? What should we do? I don't think we will have long till their forces arrive..." Aileni stated, feeling lost and showing his inexperience with being in situations like this. He was a fighter, he was skilled in a classroom but practical experience, being in a mission where the plans needed to change. Aileni was not prepared for yet. He still needed help.

 

[Trace Xyston]

​

Spoiler: Equipment

Main weapon: LO-44 MKII
Secondary weapon: LO-12S
Tertiary weapon: LO-10M
Armor: LO-62C
Utilities: grappling hook 2x gas grenade 2x thermal detonators

A blinding flash of light flooded into his helmet, nearly blinding him before his visor's anti-flash system kicked in and darkened. He whirled around, watching the Jedi land gracefully ahead and ignite his lightsaber, leaving the partygoers stunned and worried. Trace blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his vision before joining the Sith Kallous in chasing down his prey. He raised his rifle and fired a couple of neurotoxin rounds. The commando, with great accuracy despite his sprinting, was aiming to hit his target in the legs to disable. While killing him was an acceptable outcome, he had a feeling that capturing him alive would yield more strategic payout.

At Kallous's side, Trace took a hand off of his rifle and put it up to his ear, activating the encrypted channel with the other Lilaste commandos on site. "This is Sergeant Xyston, we have a Jedi in the middle of the main hall trying to escape. Guard the exits. And notify High Commander Laphisto immediately!" he commanded before firing another short burst in the Jedi's direction.

Trace had no doubt that the other Jedi agents at the gala would react to this man being exposed, likely by trying to escape or even by engaging his commando unit in combat. Unfortunately, intelligence had not given him a precise estimate of the number of those scum present at the event. If they were here en masse, Trace would need backup, and he would need to call it in now.

"High Commander," he spoke into his comm with a slight hint of exertion, yet the same monotonous tone, "what is your status? I am in pursuit of a Jedi in the main hall with agent Kallous. I predict the other Jedi will either attempt escape or show themselves very soon. Do you have reinforcements you could send our way, or any orders, sir? Shall we aim to kill or capture?"

Aiden Porte Iandre Athlea Kallous

 

[Saul Whesai]

Saul was keeping behind the party, having the Govenor within arms reach. The prosopsal by the young Jedi was very... naive... She clearly didn't see what deep nerf dung she was in. "I think your boss is going to be too busy for us soon. And you still haven't told us your name yet."

Looking straight into the Jedi Padawan's eyes, she would see that he wasn't in the joking mood. "Lets face reality here. You didn't have permission to this nor did your Master. Having a talk right now isn't going to change that. I suggest you comply or there are going to be people arriving soon that will make you comply without asking nicely."

Pari could tell these weren't just threats, they were the truth. If the commando team made it here and was forced to open fire... While even a Jedi couldn't dodge forever... And Saul wanted to keep this kid out of a body bag. "I'm sorry to say Kid but you don't really have a choice." Gesturing to the lightsaber on her hip, he held his hand out for it. Of course, he could disarm her with his new abilities but he wanted this interaction to have little fireworks as possible for all of their sakes. Hopefully the kid would play along with those plans.

Pari Sylune Aknoby Souls of the Lilaste order

 

[Souls of the Lilaste order]

Saul Whesai Aknoby

Caelin barreled down the corridor, squad snapping into formation behind him. He rounded the corner and came up hard beside Saul, rifle already leveled at the Jedi and the Baron; eight pair of boots followed in disciplined rhythm. The air smelled of perfume, ozone and spilled wine and now, danger.

Saul's last words hung in the hall like a dare an offer of surrender couched in courtesy. Caelin heard the shape of it: hands extended, face turned toward de-escalation. He also heard the orders that came over the wire: no friendly fire, no needless deaths. That didn't make the moment any less sharp. With a single practiced motion he flicked the selector off safe, the tiny metallic click a hard punctuation in the silence. It was a small, unmistakable emphasis an answer to Saul's attempt at diplomacy.

He leaned close to Saul, voice low and flat over a private channel so only the sergeant could hear. "Jedi have already begun attacking Diarchal agents elsewhere. If we're going to move, we move now." His eyes never left the padawan's face. "If she refuses to comply, she will be shot." There was no bravado in the statement only the cold arithmetic of conflict. "We've orders to use non-lethal rounds. They'll stop her, but they still hurt. They break limbs. They make people stay down. Be ready to receive prisoners."

Behind him, the squad flexed like a living barrier, weapons trained, muzzles trembling with potential. Guests froze mid-panic some praying, some reaching for exits while the Baron's face went pale beneath his powdered smile.

---

As Trace Xyston transmission came through the comms "Jedi in the middle of the main hall trying to escape" Null-7 reacted instantly. He broke from his post at the rear exit, sprinting down the corridor with the clean economy of a veteran operative.

The estate was chaos. Civilians and servants poured from the ballroom, panic spreading faster than sound. Dishes shattered, fine music stands toppled, and shouts turned into a blur of noise. Null-7's armored frame moved through it all with mechanical certainty, the blue light from emergency fixtures glinting across his pauldrons. "Null-7, en route to intercept," his filtered voice crackled over the commlink.

He entered the main hall just as Aiden Porte burst from the upper level in a flare of white-blue light, his saber a comet cutting through smoke and confusion. Null-7 raised his LO-20D, taking a knee to stabilize. His targeting reticle centered on the Jedi's chest. "Target in sight engaging."

The LO-20D barked to life, ten to fifteen .45-caliber LO-EMP rounds roaring downrange in tight bursts. The weapon's report filled the grand hall with thunder, muzzle flashes reflecting off crystal and marble. Each shot chased the fleeing Jedi's movement, striking pillars and banisters in showers of sparks. The specialized EMP payload crackled against decorative shielding arrays, warping the air with ionized distortion.

Then motion in his periphery. Two figures, dressed as servants, broke from the crowd. Their movements were too precise, too measured to be panic. One dropped the serving tray she carried; the other's hands came up in a blur of motion. In the space of a heartbeat, both ignited hidden sabers — one green, one yellow the colors washing the room in light.

"Contact! Additional hostile Force sensitives!" Null-7 barked, pivoting his rifle. The green-bladed Jedi lunged first, closing the distance faster than any normal combatant could. Null-7 sidestepped, firing a tight three-round burst that caught the edge of the Jedi's blade, the EMP rounds fizzling against the energized surface. The second assailant followed from the left, spinning through the air with an acrobatic slash meant to bisect him.

Null-7 dropped flat, rolled, and came up firing again controlled, efficient, the textbook precision of Lilaste Order training. The soldiers around the perimeter shifted instantly, two forming a firing line while another threw a stun grenade toward the edge of the gala floor.

The grenade popped with a sharp electric snap, flooding the air with static discharge and concussive light. Null-7's visor dimmed automatically as he advanced behind the distraction, his rifle tracking both Jedi. "Commander xyston, Null-7 Jedi reinforcements in disguise," he called over the comms, voice calm despite the chaos. "Engaging at the rear quadrant of the main hall. Proceeding to contain."

The Jedi moved like mirrored streaks of color through the chaos green and yellow, slicing through overturned tables and drifting smoke. Null-7 met them head-on, rifle steady, boots grinding against marble. To the Jedi, it was like fighting a shadow that shouldn't exist. They couldn't feel him. No trace of emotion, no ripple of intent a blind spot in their senses. Every predictive whisper of the Force came back empty. The younger one hesitated. "Master I can't!?!"

"Focus!" the elder snapped, driving his saber down in a disciplined, two-handed arc. The blade came for Null-7's head. He didn't dodge. He didn't need to. His gauntleted forearm his armor took the blow dead. The lightsaber screamed along the alloy, sparks spitting where blade met armor, but the trooper's stance held like a post. The impact and heat rattled through his arm, but he remained locked on.

Null-7 answered with the torque of a hydraulic mechanism. He reared back and drove his free fist into the Jedi's joint, wrenching the arm outward in a harsh, practiced motion. The master's face tightened in a single, involuntary jolt; a sick, cleansing crack echoed under the chandeliers as the elbow gave. The man's grip failed pain and shock took the place of control.

Before the master could recover, Null-7 punched forward with the butt of his LO-20D and fired a short, precise burst center-mass. The EMP-tipped slugs struck the chest, collapsing motor control in a gush of spasms. The green blade clattered from his slack fingers as he folded to the floor, unmoving.

The padawan surged forward as Null-7 moved to the fallen master, eyes burning with desperate resolve. She lashed out in a whirlwind arc, the blade a bright streak meant to carve a path to her teacher. Her movements were raw but fearless a reckless attempt to buy him time.

Null-7 didn't wait to be cut. He met her mid-swing, intercepting the arc with his gauntleted forearm. Where the blade met armor there was a sizzling hiss; sparks spat outward and the hall's light fractured. He didn't recoil. Instead, he stepped into her, closing the distance with the ruthless economy of someone trained to make openings disappear.

She tried to wrench free and press the attack. Null-7 answered with a short, blunt headbutt not elegant, not theatrical, just a single hard contact that stole her breath and blurred her vision long enough to seize the moment. She staggered, only half steady. "Drop it," he ordered, voice flat and loud enough for the hall to hear.

She spat defiance and tried to bring the saber up again. Null-7's hand closed on her wrist like an iron trap. He twisted with practiced force, not gentleness but control the motion meant to break resistance instantly. When she did not release, he applied pressure to a single finger until a sharp, sickening snap cut through the noise. The hilt slipped from her grasp as pain claimed the limb.

She collapsed to her knees, clutching the ruined finger, a sound of surprised agony leaving her. Null-7 moved without drama: quick hands, cold efficiency. He secured her wrists behind her back with restraints before she could summon strength to strike once more.

"Targets down," he reported into the comms, voice steady. "One unconscious, one restrained. Use med evac and prepare restraints for transport." Around them the gala's panic deepened into a stunned hush some guests ran for exits, others tended the wounded. Broken crystal and dropped sabers littered the marble like a bad dream. Null-7 hauled the master to his feet by the collar, checked for secondary threats with a practiced sweep, then began to move both prisoners toward the staging point.

Kallous Iandre Athlea

 

[Aknoby]

He sighs looking t the soldier he snap a little

"Go with Saul take teh Baron if she try something I stop, if you dn't like it Laphisto can punish me later."

He fold his arms looking at the padawan standing between her and the other,he look at Saul and mounth to him

"Please"

He loook again to Pari Sylune

"Please the baron is a criminal,a laier and a traitor of his people. No Force user here is a prisionar,we have institutions we study and work side by side with all the population of the Diarchy"

He give a nervous smile to the padawan hoping she stand down

Saul Whesai Souls of the Lilaste order

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Dantooine
Tags: Lorn Reingard
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

---

The Jedi knew what he was doing, that much Reign had picked up. Yet it was to be a battle of philosophy as well as blades.

Reign could not help but smile, that was his favorite thing to do.

“You fight well.. for a Jedi”

He backed up slightly, preparing for the next strike.

“You must not know me at all, strength with restraint, power with purpose, compassion and action. This is what the Diarchy is”

The Diarch was confident, so when the force warned him of danger, he brushed it off. This when the upward strike came he was knocked off balance. Reign barely was able to get his blade up to block the diagonal slash. Grunting with the effort.

A wide smile spread across the Diarch’s face as the blades met and produced a saber lock.

“You’re strong. But shackled by the dogma of the Jedi. You could do so much more for the galaxy if you moved beyond them”

As Reign stared into the dark eyes of his opponent his smile faltered for just a moment, the Jedi would soon learn of Reign’s dominion variant and the physicality it brought to a fight as he reared his head back and brought it smashing towards his opponents face.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

I manage to get up, hard even. Tracing an ichor green portal with my hand, I decide to go back to where I come from, I'm more likely than usual, what a really struggling... Ichor's gate takes me back to the surface at the location of the buffet where I was earlier. Taking a good plate, a good meal, and a new pitcher of hot mead this time.

"the light of the surface! Aaah, it's immediately more pleasant than the devil."

Seating down to eat there serenely, almost forgetting the battlefield that is playing below behind me. Dantoine, is so special, it makes me frown because of rethinking the former governor. This traitor who once abandoned us and tried to gang up against us. But my madness does not turn away from his true purpose, I must punish the wicked, and spare the civilians. Civilians have done nothing, in addition the servants are useful, since thanks to them, I can enjoy this good and delicious meal. What to ask for better? Sincerely.

I take a good sip of meadow to feast and peck on my plate. A good meal. It makes balm in the heart. I invited my Master Diarch Rellik to join my table, we'll see if he accepts or not... Angry yes, i am, but target the good people.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Diarch Reign​

Lorn met Reign's defense with quiet precision, feeling the other man's confidence surge through every parry. Their blades locked once more, gold against bronze, the hum between them rising to a sharp, feverish pitch. Reign's words rolled over the clash... boastful, proud, certain.

"I don't," Lorn admitted evenly, his voice low. "But I know the dark enough to recognize its strings. It always makes believers of its puppets."

Their sabers ground together, light spilling in erratic flashes across their faces. When Reign sneered about shackles, Lorn's eyes narrowed. "If I'm bound," he said, his tone almost a whisper, "then it's to something greater than power." He meant to continue, but the motion came fast.

The Diarch's head smashed forward. Pain exploded behind Lorn's eyes, his head snapping back with a crack that set the world spinning. He staggered, copper filling his mouth, the burn of blood trickling down his nose. Instinct overrode thought. His off hand shot up, the Force flaring from his palm in a sudden burst of light... raw, blinding, and meant to drive Reign back.

The recoil from the push sent Lorn skidding a step in the dust. He fell back into stance, breathing sharp, eyes still locked on his opponent. Reign stood tall, the hit seemingly shrugged off, the same cold poise radiating from him. Lorn exhaled once through his nose, crimson streaking his lip.

"You speak of purpose," he said quietly, "but your Diarchy worries too much about the dealings of Jedi and Sith. The Force isn't a ladder to climb or a tool to claim. It's simple." His blade angled forward again, the hum steady despite his pulse. "You follow the light, or you lose yourself trying to twist it."

The ground stirred under his boots as he reached into the Force again, this time pulling, dragging through the dust and dirt around them. The wind caught, whipping a storm of grit toward Reign's face and armor. In the same breath, Lorn stepped forward, pivoting through the haze. His golden blade swept low and horizontal, cutting through the air in a clean, decisive arc, an attempt to break the Diarch's defense through speed and timing, not brute strength.