Tears of Onderon

[Cecily Demici]

Onderon, Palace Square​

Spoiler: PLEASE READ FIRST

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3yNLP73sG0

Spoiler: PLEASE READ FIRST

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This is a planetary memorial for the Republic soldiers from Onderon who died at Ord Mirit. Anyone is welcome to attend. There are three possible points of participation.​

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1. Onderon Royalty, Onderon Government Officials: In the procession itself. The coffins go first, then the families, then the royal family, then the senatorial delegation, then the provincial governors, etc
2. Very Important People: In the palace square very important people such as Galactic Senators, Supreme Commander, Jedi Council, Prime Minister, etc will stand
3. Mourners: Finally, all citizens of Onderon and other sympathizers line the streets and fill the Palace Square watching the procession.

No restrictions on participation.​

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It was a dark day for the Republic, and so it was a dark day for Onderon...

The bodies of Galactic Republic soldiers who called Onderon home had arrived just days earlier from the tragic loss at Ord Mirit. Dozens of men and women who gave their lives fighting for the ideals upon which their noble Republic stood. And now, Onderon wept for its fallen children.

As the sun sank below the hazy horizon and the mighty Dxun rose to its apex, mourners took to the streets with ceremonial lanterns and candles. Thousands of men, women, and children lined the Grand Avenue of Iziz, the wide street that led to the Palace Square as they prepared to unite in mourning. There would be a time for the Republic to memorialize and it would be held just a few blocks away at the Senate Tower of the Republic, but today was for Onderon, a people united in their solemnity.

As was their tradition, the coffins of those who gave their lives were to process from the Great Gate of Iziz to the Royal Palace of Iziz, where they would be honored by their people. The families of the fallen would follow each coffin and the Royal Family and other officials of import would march behind in a show of solidarity.

~~~~~~~~​

Location: In the procession

It was a difficult day for all Onderonians, yet the toll taken by the loss at Ord Mirit and the deaths of so many of their noble people weighed even more heavily on the hearts of those who had urged their people into battle and so Cecily's heart broke as she stood, prepared to the march, just a few feet from the King and his family.

Cecily, who was known for her keen sense of fashion, abandoned all pretense of a desire to impress and with it her lavish silks and jewels. Today, her blond hair was slicked back into a tight bun at the back of her head and every inch of skin from her neck down was draped in heavy black robes of mourning. She had scrubbed her face clean of makeup, yet still her eyes were blotchy and red from the tears. The only color on her was the bright gold necklace that hung from her neck, two orbs, the symbol of Onderon.

On either side of them were no less than ten Royal Paladins of Onderon charged with their protection during the event, but Cecily had forgone the personal detail of four Senate Guards afforded to her by her status as Minister of State and even her personal handmaidens were noticeably absent. The coffins had those who survived them, the King had his Queen and family, and Cecily stood alone. She was the face of this war to Onderon and it was she who sent those poor men and women to their deaths.

The thought had nearly overwhelmed her when a sudden jolt of movement alerted her that the procession had began. She sniffed violently as she struggled to compose herself and only spared a moment to catch the reassuring nod of her King, which she returned gratefully, as he strode onward into the sea of hooded mourners. Ten paces. She was to remain ten paces behind.

'One... two... three...' she struggled to keep count in her head as tears welled in her eyes. Had any of this been worth it? They had lost to the Sith again. After the defeat at Telti, the Governors had urged the King to demand a reduction in Onderon's commitment, but it was Cecily who spoke against them. It was she who had given those rousing patriotic speeches to the public. She was the face of this war on Onderon.

'Five... or was that four? Six... seven... eight' to her left a Paladin signaled and she realized that she had lost count. Slowly she started, hands crossed in front of her, eyes on the feet in front of her. She couldn't bare to look these people-- her people-- in the eyes. Still she felt them looking at her as she passed.

This would be a long evening for all of them...

 

[Thalia Rist]

Thalia watched from where she stood and quietly stared at the bodies for which passed her and the others that were there. She didn't change her stare though and only stared at air as she could not look at them herself without feeling sick. Her hands were held out her side and she said absolutely nothing while her brown hair collected around her head. Her clothing was a similarly black dress as those around her and she didn't even seem to be fully there as she shook her head. This war was going to keep going and she hated her people being a part of it.. She never voiced these concerns with her father or the woman who was senator for the planet. She agreed with the Governors as they talked to her father but she still said nothing and even now she remained standing.

 

[Targon Paramithian]

Location: VIP//Palace Square

War was terrible thing, no good really ever came of it, except when peace was achieved. Even then it was difficult to say if the costs were worth it in the end.

No, Targon did not condone the senseless war currently raging between the Galactic Republic and the One Sith. He'd served as an advisor to both parties in non-military matters at one time or another in his long life. He found that both sides were generally agreeable in their own right. A bunch of squabbling over how best to use the Force, that's all it was. Whose lightsaber was bigger? Balderdash.

Though technically subordinate to the whims of the Republic, the wizened President and his University maintained their neutrality by way of academic prerogative. What was once a grand propaganda machine for the Republic (and later the Empire) was now a sovereign institution that serviced all peoples of the galaxy. And Targon never missed an opportunity to remind people of this fact.

Still, there he stood, in the Palace Square in his formal academic robes, surrounded by hoards of richly dressed Vice Presidents, Provosts, and tenured Faculty of varying degree. He did not agree with this war and he would not 'side' with the Republic, but he would honor the lives of those foolish enough to be sucked into the great game played by the rich and powerful. Many of those who died had been his students in some capacity.

Their sacrifice would not go unnoticed by their alma mater.

 

[Nimue Stormson]

Among the other nobles invited for this rather dismal of gatherings was the empress of Effekt, Nimue Stornson. She had been dressed for the occasion, dark green robes as opposed to her usual brighter ones. She stood among the others invited by [member="Cecily de Demici"] for this memorial, but not for the same reason. She'd come both out of prerogative but also out of a want for something in return. In the recent days Nimue had become somewhat 'inward' with herself and her affairs. It was noticed by some. It was unclear why when only a few weeks ago she seemed so intent with making Effekt all the more public; especially with the return of it's "long lost princess" Morgana and her knighting in the Jedi Order. This had also made it a favor from Nimue to the Republic as well. But still her very cautious eye had become all the more alert in recent days. Even now as she stood with a handful of guards nearby and her saber on her belt she seemed different from the monarch so many knew her to be. She remained quiet during the rites and final passages for the fallen, out of respect shown by her own people, but she was clearly anxious to have this over and done with. ​

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[member="Thalia Rist"]​

 

[Faith Organa]

The pair arrived together with very little pomp and circumstance. They knew too well the ravages of war and the cost to the people.

Queen Arianna and her daughter Faith walked quietly. They remembered not too long ago the lives lost to war. All for what Arianna mused to herself. Land, resources, all things that could be bought and sold.

Faith knew, expansion of power base that is why there was war. No longer did it seem that war was over a disputed border, or political differences. It was about growing an empire and bringing them all under a single banner. Something that Faith would never allow again for the citizens she had a plan. But now was not the time for such things this was a time of remembrance.

Black. They both wore deep dark nightshade black. The soft touch of her mother's hand on her shoulder bound her to the ground. Mourning. She had been mourning forever when would it stop? As long as there was loss of life the mourning of life would never stop.

Dignitaries everywhere to honor the dead they were but two among the crowd.

The soft sobs of men and women around them their sorrow cutting into the very heart of the existence was one of the reasons they stood here. They needed to remember those that without hesitation went onto the field of battle, and stayed defending a way of life, a home, and a people. Faith could feel their grief as it touched her heart.

Squeezing her eyes tightly for but a moment Faith opened them to look around for [member="Marev Priest"] knowing he was near seem to provide an additional layer of security to her weary mind. But where was he, he had been cleared to be near.

[member="Thalia Rist"] [member="Cecily de Demici"]

 

[Mantic Dorn]

Sorrow.

There was only sorrow. The scope of it all was however of such intensity that the emotion was barely endurabel.

Mantic cried.

Death followed by grief, followed by guilt, followed by hopelessness, followed by anger, follwed by vengefulness...

No! - he would not allow himself to be tempted by this darkness. This insane evil that had caused all this sorrow.

Mantic straightened his back and wiped his tears.

Te people here was gathering to griev their dead ones, to acknowledge that they had sacrified their lives for the cause of the republic. For something greater then honor and personal glroy. To bring safety and order to their loved once. To secure an upbringing of their children. They were true heroes, fighting for causes greater then themselves.
That is why the struggle has to continue, that is why the leaders of the republic had to endure the pain they must now be feeling. To have thrown those lives into the jaws of the sick and repulsive sith. The demon with an never ending appetite for destroying lives, shattering families and ltimately devouring all light that is life.
No one had told this to Mantic Dorn. He just knew it - nay he felt it, as if something was pleading, not threatening, to remember that this was not the time for hate. This was the time to remember the heroism. The sacrifice they did out of compassion and trust in that the tomorrow just might bring the light back.

Mantic was silent, taking it in, realising the role of the jedi. Realising the role he was destined to guard.

 

[Cecily Demici]

99... 100... 101... 102, she counted every step she took toward the Palace, never losing pace with the Paladins who flanked her. Her eyes were red from the tears she had shed, but she could cry no more. Still her throat seemed to scream out in pain as her heart seemed to strive upward, trying to escape this body that caused it so much grief.

110... 111... 112... 113, suddenly as building rose up alongside them flowers began to rain down upon them. Cecily looked up now at the scores of people who had gathered to show their respect and she faltered at the sight. Thousands of them. Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters, of all species, all races, wrapped tightly in black, clinging to each other and whispering words of comfort. From the balconies white flowers continued to fall and at either side of the street children were tossing tokens at their feet. Even now, they curtseyed and bowed respectfully to the Royal Family and to her. She was making eye contact now and the count was lost to her.

Blue, green, green, blue, gray, brown, brown, she was no longer counting her steps, but she was memorizing the eyes of every citizen she passed. Those old enough to understand were filled with sorrow and streaming with tears, but it was the eyes of those too young to understand that broke her heart. The soldiers who died at Ord Mirit, who died at Telti, they had not died for her. It was for these eyes, full of wonder, that they proudly laid down their lives. In her grief and her hubris she had forgotten why she had given all those impassioned speeches to the roaring crowds, why she had fought time and again to support the military. For these eyes.

Bells rang out in the distance as the front of procession neared the Palace Square and Cecily was determined to reassure her people that the lives given were not given in vain. With a renewed sense of pride, she held her head high, nodding solemnly to the people as she passed.

 

[Lok Jorunn]

Soldiers died in times of war, that was their ultimate duty. Lok knew fully well how this mass congregation felt, to see their sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers perish in the face of almost certain doom. His parents had been taken from him before his very eyes because they made their decision to give away the rest of their lives so that he may continue his upward journey to happiness and love. It had taken quite a long time to shed himself of the guilt that hung heavily upon his shoulders, the guilt of being solely responsible for their deaths.

Black.

That color cascaded about every figure, structure, and surface in this grand city. However the only thing grand about it was the immense size of the grief and sorrow permeating every bore of its existence. Stone-like fathers wept for their fallen sons and cried out, "he was supposed to outlive me." Mothers swam in puddles of tears and mourning as they clutched their little ones tightly, those who were too young to even comprehend the intense, dark complexity of the moment.

Something shifted in Lok's periphery; an Ace scratching the side of his neck.

"Varlo," the man quietly snarled, "Show some respect, be disciplined."

The uniformed man immediately dropped his hand, snapping to complete attention with a rejuvenated sense of posture and presence. Lok and his Crimson Aces weren't here to just mourn of the passing of so many lives - security was of the utmost importance. It was almost certain that opposition parties, lunatics, and a wide variety of other politically active beings would be in an outrage about what had happened, and Lok was sure they wouldn't just use legal and legitimate methods to voice their distaste.

They were uniformed and armed, though quite lightly. It was never the best idea to have a Jedi and his ragtag cohorts roam about in a home stricken by the sorrows of war. He was equally to blame for what happened; Jedi were always to blame for these sorts of problems.

Lok sighed inwardly and allowed his blue eyes drift across the long line of coffins, lingering particularly longer on the Royal Family and their advisors.

[member="Cecily de Demici"], [member="Mantic Dorn"], [member="Faith Balor-Organa"], [member="Nimue Stormson"], [member="Targon Paramithian"], [member="Thalia Rist"]

 

[Valen Cerezo]

A bad business it was, Valen thought as he walked with the procession. A world had lost sons and daughters to this war they all had to fight, and it was only right that those who made up the government acknowledged the deaths of these soldiers from Onderon.

Valen was in a black suit with a white flower in his lapel for the somber occasion, and as he continued walking, he thought about what could the Republic do to make the war start turning in their favor. They needed to stop these sort of funeral processions, or at least lessen the number of the dead.

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Geneviève Lasedri was not exactly known for wearing dresses, but some occasions warranted it more than others. At least, that was what politics and 'civility' had told her. Much a rebel from her cultured upbringing, she still could recall the values her parents had attempted to instill in her while she was under their care. And so she capable of surprising people with unexpected flair or reverence when she deemed it necessary. And so she was present in the political attendance of the funeral procession and honoring of the dead, clothed in a modest but not overly elegant black dress, as was appropriate. No hat adorned her crown today.

The Prime Minister's lips were pursed during the cavalcade's slow march to the square, hands clasped before her and head raised high as she stood at respectful attention. No tears left her eyes; not even a snivel from her nose. She simply watched with brows narrowed. She had paid her respects to soldiers of both the Rebellion and the Republic dozens of times before. She knew the price of war. They could judge her if they wanted. She had nearly paid the same price as well, back in the day.

Geneviève did not show sorrow, no. In truth, she did not feel sorrow so much as she felt regret. All she had promised; all she had driven for in the pursuit of annihilating the Sith forces and preventing this sort of event from ever occurring ever again in her lifetime--none of it had borne any fruit to the eye of the public.

To be honest, none of it seemed to be bearing much fruit in her own eyes. Perhaps it was out of frustration; vengeance that she had approved an attack today by the Republic's Navy. Perhaps it was simply to stir her own confidence--for, as each day past, even the hardened heart of Geneviève Lasedri began to feel the weight of defeat clamping down on it. Something. Anything.

Gen did not exactly believe in some higher, controlling power, despite her own sort of connection to the Force--what the Jedi would claim it to be. But something needed to do something. Defeat was not an option. Force. Help us.

 

[Cecily Demici]

The bells grew louder as the procession finally came to the Palace Square. The coffins floated ominously into a perfect line before a great podium that stood before the palace gates. Flowers obscured the streets now as the Royal Family and the government officials marched solemnly to their places. All around the square, some of the post important members of the Republic looked onward as Cecily began the long climb to her place beside the Thrones.

The Paladins that lined the step gave the Royal Salute as they passed and almost like clockwork the leaders of the planet dispersed and fell in line at their respective station. The Queen and King stood before their massive golden thrones, their children off to the side at less imposing chairs, the provincial governors crowded to their left in a space marked for them, and Cecily stood to their left, alone.

There were a few moments of silence, as the last few flowers fell to the ground and the people shifted uncomfortably as they waited for the ceremony to begin. It was the decisive nod of the Queen of Onderon that guided Cecily's steps to the podium.

"People of Onderon," her voice rang out like thunder over the square and a hush fell over the crowd as her echoes died away, "friends, it is with a heavy heart that I address you, now. We gather together in quiet solemnity to honor lives of the brave men and women who died defending our liberty. Again, the Sith have struck at the heart of our people, again we find ourselves faced with the most terrifying of realities."

"To the families of those fallen, we offer our condolences... and our most sincere gratitude for the debt that was paid," she paused here, and placed a hand on her heart as a roar of applause rose from the square. She looked down at the podium before her in a desperate attempt to fight back her tears and as the applause died away she looked up again.

"As we stand here in the presence of such devotion, we are reminded of the ultimate sacrifice that was made to afford us our freedom. In these darkest of times it would seem wiser to flee before the oncoming storm, to hide from the terror that awaits us, to give in... and yet, we must not falter," she paused again and her words shook the square as they bounced between the massive marble structures, "for to surrender would be a disservice to their memory."

"It is now, more than ever, that we must fight! Darkness cannot prevail, for in each of your hearts is a light... a light brighter and more powerful than the darkest shadow the Sith can muster, in your hearts is the courage to carry on, in your hearts is the hope of tomorrow, of a new dawn. Where you and your children do not live in constant fear of their evil empire! Where all sentient beings enjoy equality and justice! Where we are governed not by man, but by the benevolence of the law! In your hearts, their lives find meaning," she gestured now to the coffins, suddenly aware of how hard her heart was pounding. It was the cheers of the crowd that finally drowned it out.

"People of Onderon... together we have been through a frightening time, and there will be other times and other things that frighten us," Cecily called as the crowd silenced itself, "but do not despair, for evil is finite. The love you hold in your hearts for each other is infinite, and if we hold on to that love, we will find victory."

"For Onderon! For the Republic!"

She did not wait for the roar of the crowd to echo her call to action, but turned to face her rulers. She curtseyed first as the Queen and King rose to applaud, and approached them. It was a relief to be embraced by the Queen, who placed a gentle kiss on each of Cecily's cheeks and then the King who whispered a few words of encouragement in her ear.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"] [member="Valen Cerezo"] [member="Lok Jorunn"] [member="Mantic Dorn"] [member="Faith Balor-Organa"] [member="Nimue Stormson"] [member="Thalia Rist"] [member="Targon Paramithian"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

A planet clad in black. Sounds of grief filled the air, tears watered the eyes of the crowd. The sorrow and anger was palpable to the point where The Pale Assassin could taste it on her tongue. She was a master of stealth, cloaked from sight, sound, and the Force, existing like the figurative shadow of a wolf among sheep.

Darth Ophidia had come for the Senator [member="Cecily de Demici"] 's life; to silence a voice that dared to speak out against the Sith. By order of the Dark Lord, she was marked for Death. However, if she could count the king among her kills as well, then she would count herself a fortunate woman and certainly be rewarded for her effort for the One Sith. Two hawkbats in one shot.
The King, the Queen and the marked Senator embraced, a whisper of encouragement came from the King. New famous last words? A dark figure appeared behind the shoulder of Cecily de Dimici as though stepping out from a fog and along with it the presence of the Dark Side exploded into being. A hand grasped the King's collar and pulled him closer to Cecily, and with a characteristic snap-hiss, a scarlet blade sparked from the assassin's hilt to immediately penetrate both Cecily and the King. Judging by the King's sudden change of expression, he was gone, however she could not see the face on her intended target. Still, she whispered a message into her ear.

"The Dark Lord sends his regards."

The assassin did not stay for the party, but extinguished her blade and took two grenades from her belt. Swiftly, they were activated and thrown into the procession to cover her retreat. She had her target, now it was time to get away. Turning about, the Sith darted away on foot with force-enhanced speed. Her armour provided her with some protection, but not enough for her to stick around. She had a speeder parked nearby and a cloaked ship awaiting her return and departure. All she had to do was slip away. Retribution from the One Sith.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Lana Carde]

The crowd would erupt with utter chaos.

The shift in action was immediate. As were the sudden urging of Persephone, Ducha of Selab and Cheruba, Senator of Hapes, to safety. The entire ceremony was rather bleak; truthfully, behind her mask of painted sorrow, the Hapan woman was rather untouched by the end result of so many dead.

Then again, they all played parts. If it did not involve the Hapes Consortium, or somehow tied to the well being of Hapes, there was little chance that true sympathy would shine through the young Duch'a. Being so deep in Republic territory perhaps gave her the illusion of being above such things as fighting a war in her front yard. She thought it all rather foolish, but then again, the woman secretly would prefer if the Hapes Consortium returned to their isolationist policies.

Be as it may, such thoughts were shoved to the rear of the mind with a violence that would spurt forward the scent of seared flesh into the air. The King's and Cecily's to be precise.

"Surround the Senator!" shouts from her own Hapan court guards would echo; along with that of the typical senate guard. She of course, would not be the only one to suddenly get surrounded by a shield of bodies. Other senators would also receive the same treatment.

A dark day indeed, for such a bold strike within the heart of the Republic.

 

[Cecily Demici]

Cecily felt the white hot saber sink into her flesh and a gasp escaped her lips. As she felt the blade exit, she spun around and latched on to the arm of her assailant. Behind her the King fell to his knees and then toppled to the side as the Queen threw herself atop her husband. Orders were shouted from all around her and Paladins and Senate Guards rushed forward like a tidal wave to assist her.

"Evil... is finite," she gasped at her attacker as she slowly slid to the ground and released her arm, clutching at the wound that had been left by the saber. A few more moments of clarity and Cecily fell unconscious. Alive, but only just.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

"Sithspit!" Gen cursed as the grandiose speech was so rudely interrupted by none other than a shadowy Sith assassin. "Dammit. Frak! Dammit dammit dammit!" She cared not a bit if children were around to hear her foul mouth, or if she sounded improper to the media or Miss Manners. Their eyes had already been assaulted by a sick murder--at a funeral. Their ears could bear her profanity.

"Got the PM!" one of her guards cried. "Get 'er indoors. STAT." The Republic's leader was promptly escorted with her head down and covered by her bodyguards who were practically bullying her into the palace building.

Geneviève ghosted a motion to grab for her gun like she would have many times back in the Rebellion--but of course was annoyed to realize that she was unarmed. Her guard's squad leader noticed the whiffed motion and made sure to keep his holster out of her reach as he pushed them faster under shelter. He supposed the Prime Minister of the Republic had as much of a right to bear arms as anyone else, but giving her a gun might be risky considering her crusader personality.

After they had gotten far enough within the presumably safe confines of the palace, two squads of the Senatorial Guard poured into the building with electrostaffs at the ready in case any more Sith agents should attempt to take out another head of government. "Madam Prime Minister, are you okay?" It was a bit of an unnecessary inquiry, since he had been the one who oversaw her protected rush to safety. They knew she was fine, despite the scare and the apparent death of the King; possibly the death of Demici. But it was just protocol.

"Son of a frakking queen!" she swore, balling her fists and swinging her arms back in violent motion. Yeah, that was normal.

 

[Mantic Dorn]

There was a slight disturbance. Something was wrong. The dark side had a too strong prescence here. It had been hidden but suddenly Mantic sensed [member="Darth Ophidia"] - it was just briefly and too late though.

An assassination! This would normally had been a time when Mantic froze, captured in emotions just like his body craved. The shock and terror errupting in the crowd would normally stun him.

But not this time. A wave of concentration, focus, effectively took over. Being of the jedi order he had gotten a position close to the speaking balcony.

As if a giant had reached down to pick him up Mantic leaped upward toward the balcony, allowing the force to push him unnatural high. It was a jump further then he usually could make. Something about this entire situation allowed his mind to be channelled by the force in a way he had not experienced before. Protective instincts overshadowed everything as he allowed himself to be guided.
Still, he did not make it the whole way up. Realising it a bit of panic errupted in his eyes as he realised his position several meters up in the air. He stretched forth and just barely managed to grab the balcony reiling.

There he hung for a brief moment clinging to the wall like a fly struggling in the wind.

Strong arms of a senatorial guard recognised his robes however and pulled him over. Panting he opened his robes showing that he was unarmed and under watchful eyes Mantic knelt down by the wounded senator. He swallowed hard.

It was now or never, he placed his hands on her back. Her warm blood still pumping out leaving her life clinging on a thin thread.
Mantic closed his eyes and tried to remember all he had been taught. He was not the greatest healer around, but he had served in the presence of some who where and picked up alot from it.

Taking a deep breath he let the life force slip into her body, speeding up her healing processes and mimicing the state of someone who was hurt, but on the way to improve her health. It was no easy task for Mantic and soon sweat broke from his forehead. Maybe, just maybe it would be enough to keep her alive until help arrived.

[member="Cecily de Demici"] [member="Thalia Rist"]

 

[Thalia Rist]

Thalia's face went pale as it happened, her eyes shaking as she stared and her hands fell to the side as she continued to stare at her father. She didn't glance at anything else for a moment before then turning her eyes past [member="Cecily de Demici"] to the assassin who had touched her father. Even as the woman ran and shot out of sight she couldn't speak as the guards and others swarmed around herself, and the Prime Minister and the other Senators. She only pushed away the guard that touched her before pushing through the others to get to her father. Anyone that came to close got a glare with one warning not to touch her before she collapsed by her father. "Dad, please stay awake. Its ok... i can help you..." She touched the wound and stared, trying to do something with what the man whom had taught her to do in terms of healing.

Her hands shook though, the blood from the wound even if most of it had been scorched clean started to cover her hands as she tried to seal the wound but couldn't. Her fear and anger blocking out any attempts as she started to shake and her eyes closed tight. Twice more someone, even her mother tried to get her to stop, her father's life fading fast as he looked at her barely conscious himself but unable to speak. Tears welled in her own eyes and she only shouted at someone to get away from her as she tried and tried to heal the wound but only to have her father dying there. Her father did die though there soon enough, the wound cutting through the man's heart and no matter how much Thalia tried more blood simply found its way on her dress and on her hands and she stared in horror as the light left his body and chaos continued around her. "F-father..." Her hands fell and tears left her eyes as she stared in complete horror.

 

[Lok Jorunn]

Lok felt the surge in the Force before even mortal eyes came to rest upon the black-clad figure that strode behind the Senator and her sovereign of Onderon. Blue eyes widened with the realization of a dark pit of despair at what was happening, at how a lone figure managed to slip through one of the most secure and defended processions in this entire damn sector. Varlo, Jace, Alai, Skipper, and Dravis all saw it too, almost all of them reaching for their blasters instantaneously.

"Stop!" Lok cried, "Everyone, get to your ships! Get Lucky to fly my bird up, me and Alai will go on foot."

The former Jedi Shadow knew the standard protocol for these kinds of things, and he was sure that a Sith wouldn't stick around planetside to see the reactions of the people and the incoming Jedi. For if a Sith assassin was spotted here, a plethora of Shadows, Investigators, and other more cunning and meticulous Jedi than he would come in force.

As the Crimson Aces scrambled out of the crowd to the nearest starport housing their small flight of X-Wings, the Jedi and his Noghri comrade sprinted forward. Force enhanced speed saw Lok zooming past the crowd and guards, with the Noghri unsurprisingly keeping up with his blistering pace. Some of the blue-clad Senate guards were pointing their rifles frantically in the direction the assassin had leapt off of the ledge, disappearing down one of the darker and shadier alleyways this maze of a city had to offer.

With a grunt, he threw himself over it as well and sped off, trailing the faintest blemishes in the Force he could possibly muster to feel.

[member="Darth Ophidia"], [member="Geneviève Lasedri"], [member="Thalia Rist"], [member="Mantic Dorn"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The senator had said something to her, and the words lingered in the back of the assassin's mind. However, for now she did not have the time to dwell on philosophy; only the escape mattered. Were she followed? surely some guards, possibly Jedi would be on her tail. Probably coming around to cut off her escape, but it was anticipated. This is why they had not sent a disposable rookie. Her speed dissipated, and once more she cloaked her presence. For those searching for her, it would feel as though she dissolved into nothing. Next, her physical form disappeared as she bent light away from herself. One step she was there, the next there was nothing, but air. The Cloak of SHadow was a strenuous skill, but she had practised enough to be able to withstand the strain for a while. Her footsteps fell silently as she had been trained to. The soft soles of her boots making hardly a sound. Her route of choice was not the shortest, but offered the most corners and branches. Giving pursuers far more choices to make.

Within the seedier parts of the city, she found a swoopbike planted there for her. Ophidia left the prearranged credits for storage and discretion at the designated drop point. She would have preferred to leave nothing but a corpse, but no one had seen her face, and the contact had proven himself handy before. He knew well the consequences of betraying one such as her. Darth Ophidia sent the all clear signal to her chauffeur as she mounted the swoop. He kept the ship ready for takeoff, and primed to disappear. Only a fool would park at the closest starport, rather she had found the shadiest. Where allegiance was relative and military connections were scarce. Not even Onderon was free of corruption, and Sith were experts at finding it.

Her form became visible as she mounted the swoop, anything else would be ridiculous. She sat listening, waiting, sensing her surroundings to make sure she did not drive into a wall of blasters or lightsabres.

@Lok Lorunn [member="Cecily de Demici"] [member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Lok Jorunn]

"I can smell her," Alai mumbled quietly as he continued his silent advance. "Most of her tracks have disappeared - she is no rookie in these arts." The Noghri flashed a toothy, predatory snarl to the Jedi sprinting next to him, "But she is surely no master at it either."

Invisibility and a cloaked presence in the Force never ever got rid of physical evidence. She may have been completely transparent, but each step she took could leave a print, each pile of refuse she sprinted through would look disturbed; and Lok determined it to be the work of some willful amateur who had lots of luck on her side. Law enforcement officers and guards milled about the city in force now, even local planetary militia groups had been alerted to the breaking news. After all, this was a system-wide broadcast and news indeed did travel fast.

As for the Crimson Aces, they had taken to the skies already. They were an elite strike force and depended on being able to hop into a cockpit and take off in a moment's notice. Four T-65XJ3 X-Wings swirled about the completely clear airspace. No doubt that the local air authorities had cleared a massive berth in the vicinity to observe and wait patiently for any possible suspects to give chase. Didn't matter if it was a stealth ship or not, the thing still had to take off and activate the stealth field, which generated a rather huge amount of power.

The pursuing pair came into a city plaza, one that was full of bristling activity about the shocking escapade that had just occurred.

"I've lost her tracks but I still smell her. She is close, though she does not seem to be on foot anymore. Maybe an airspeeder."

Lok glanced to to the nearest police officer and strode over, flashing his lightsaber. "Official Jedi business, I'm going to commandeer this speeder bike." The Jedi sent a look over to the officer's partner, "And that one too."

Despite any complaints about being a mobile patrol, Lok and Alai secured both of the bikes in less than a few seconds and sped off with the Noghri taking the lead.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]