Invasion The Bacta War | Sith Order Invasion of High Republic Thyferra Chapter 1

[Revna Marr]

Wearing:
Ring || Lightsaber || Necklace || Armor​

​

It had not taken long for Republic forces to respond to the Sith invasion of Thyferra. Revna was already overhearing the crackle of communications through the various troopers and Second Legion warriors that the Jedi were already on the ground and engaging Sith forces somewhere.

Of course they were. Revna felt a slight but bitter surge through her heart at the thought of that. They came out of the woodworks, so to speak, to stop the Sith when it came to an agricultural world - but where were they when millions of slaves and refugees in the Outer Rim needed help?

Why was it that she and her Father, who were Sith (albeit rather strange ones compared to the rest of those within the Order) were the only ones willing to do anything about that? How many times had a slave child asked her if she was one of the famed Jedi, come to rescue them from their shackles, and she had to tell them the ugly truth?

Behind her helm, a shift of disgust crossed her face. Revna didn’t despise the Jedi because they were Light siders, but because they were never where they were needed most.

The Sith woman cast her gaze across the burning landscape once more, before she felt a distinct shift in the Force that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She turned her gaze upward and, through the barrage of bombardments from the ships in orbit, she noticed something else.

“Ah chit. Everyone get down, take cover!” She barked to the warriors around her, before she erected a Force Barrier around herself and a group of Legionnaires and the containers they were guarding, her efforts bolstered by other Sith who were there with her too - and just in time, as a column of pure Force Destruction slammed into the ground and spread a wave of utter annihilation around the impact site. It slammed into her barrier and Revna gritted her teeth against the power that pushed against her. It kept coming and coming, spreading its devastation over several kilometers, indiscriminate with who was caught up in it.

“What the actual feth?!” she said through clenched teeth. “Yeah, let's just kill our own forces too while we're at it!”

Revna waited for the wave of destruction to pass by, before releasing the Barrier and turning her gaze upward again. She sensed a dark, familiar presence beyond - and bit back a snarl of frustration. Of course Prazutis was here, and of course he had unleashed some overwhelming show of force, heedless or careless of Sith forces that were already on the ground. Part of Gerwald’s Second Legion had taken a hit, and she wondered how he might react to that when this was all said and done. It wasn’t her business though and she didn’t have time to ponder on that train of thought.

She overheard chatter that one of the containers further down the line had been compromised and there was a ripple of uncertainty that passed along the line. “Just keep moving - we need to get these containers to the refinery.” She called out to those who could hear her, to keep them moving forward despite the losses and damage that had been wrought. The dead and dying could be tended to later.

They continued to move along, closer and closer to their destination, sections of the Legion coming under direct assault. Then someone from ahead alerted the rest of 'Contact!', and Revna moved ahead to see what the disturbance was.

Someone was hindering their movements, their figure blocked by the haze of smoke and ash. Revna’s eyes settled upon a rather interesting individual - a rather colorful humanoid female. Revna had never seen someone like her before.

“You are not welcome here.” came the woman’s voice, devoid of anger or any other harsh emotions, just certain of what she seemed to be saying. Beyond her, somewhere, another explosion registered, the sound ripping across the burning landscape. Revna noticed the woman across from her flinch at the sound and percussive sensation that rippled through the air currents. A wave of color danced over her skin in response, something that intrigued Revna further. A faint probe through the Force to sense the Light side within and around this individual, confirmed her suspicion that this was a Jedi - or at least someone who likely practiced something similar.

“Of course we are not - that isn’t going to stop us though.” Revna replied back, her voice carrying through the smoke filled air to the other woman as she stepped away from the warriors and began to somewhat flank the other woman. There was no anger or malice or hate in her voice, just the certainty of someone who really didn’t give a crap what others said or thought.

“Leave.”

Through the din of combat, distant and nearer, Revna heard the sound of musical notes emanating from the woman before her. She noticed subtle movements, the fingers curling at her side, and Revna felt tension begin to build within her muscles as her ember eyes narrowed behind her visor.

Her own grip on her saber hilt tightened ever so slightly, and her body shifted into a more alert guard as she sought to draw this interloper away from the others.

“Now.”

“There is no stopping what has been set in motion, Lightbearer. It is not too late for you to walk away and go somewhere else where you are needed more.” Revna replied back to the other woman, giving the colorful Jedi the same option to leave as well - though she knew this was going to dissolve into a fight, it was just a matter of time now - seconds, likely. The din of rising combat around her began to fade into the background as she pulled her focus to what was before her, waiting to see what her opponent’s next move might be. ​

Direct Opponent Tag: Zaiya Ceti
Enemies: The High Republic
Allies: The Sith Order​

 

[Kadeon Virell]

Objective: Hold the Line
Location: Zaltin Production District, Thyferra
Outfit: Combat Ready
Equipment: Double-bladed lightsaber - Twin Verdict
Tag: Darth Tormenta

Kade had seen worlds burn before. That didn't make watching another one do it any easier. The horizon was black. Not dark. Black. Great columns of smoke rolled upward from the Alazhi fields, joining together until they seemed determined to smother Thyferra's sky. Beneath them, orange crawled across the landscape in long, hungry lines. Fields that had taken years to cultivate disappeared in minutes.

Kadeon Virell stood atop the outer wall of one of the processing facilities and watched it happen. "Man, I really hate Sith." There were probably more appropriately Jedi things to say. Kade wasn't particularly interested in any of them.

Twin Verdict rested in his right hand, still unignited, while Republic soldiers and local security rushed through the defensive positions behind him. Transports were being loaded. Workers were being moved deeper into protected sections of the facility. Anyone who could be spared was reinforcing entrances and establishing firing lanes through the processing complex.

Kade had already made his priorities clear. People first. Facility second. Bacta third. If somebody had a problem with that order, they could file a complaint with the Jedi Council after they survived the invasion.

Another distant explosion rolled across the landscape. Kade's jaw tightened. The Sith weren't simply trying to conquer Thyferra. They were burning the source of something that kept people alive all across the galaxy while simultaneously trying to take whatever remained for themselves.

That was low. Even for Sith. His comm crackled. "Knight Virell, movement on the southern perimeter. Hostiles approaching the processing district."

Kade rolled his shoulders. Finally. "Copy." He stepped off the wall. For anyone else, it would have been a fall. Kade dropped several stories before reaching into the Force. His descent slowed only at the last moment, boots striking the ferrocrete with enough force to make nearby soldiers turn toward him.

He straightened like he'd merely stepped off a curb. "Everybody remember the plan," he called as he walked toward the southern barricade. "They want inside. We don't let them inside."

One of the soldiers stared at him. "That's the plan?"

Kade flashed him a grin. "Good plans don't need diagrams."

The grin disappeared as he passed through the defensive line. There. He could feel them now. Darkness pressed against the Force beyond the smoke. Sith soldiers were one thing. Droids, mercenaries, pirates—whatever else they'd brought—Kade trusted the defenders to handle them.

But somewhere out there was something stronger. Someone. Kade's fingers tightened around Twin Verdict. That old familiar sensation stirred inside him. Excitement. He hated admitting that. A Jedi probably shouldn't feel the same spark before fighting a Sith that Highlight Virell had once felt walking onto an athletic field with thousands of people screaming his name. But pretending it wasn't there wouldn't make it disappear. The trick was remembering why he was fighting now.

Behind him were soldiers. Workers. Vratix. People who had nowhere else to go while someone else decided their home was worth destroying. That was why he was here.

Kade stopped several meters ahead of the barricade. Smoke drifted across the roadway. Twin Verdict snapped to life. Snap-Hiss One green blade erupted from the staff-length hilt. Kade rolled the weapon once through his hand before the second blade ignited from the opposite end. Snap-Hiss

The Jedi Knight settled into a loose stance, one foot sliding behind the other. Relaxed shoulders. Weight forward. Twin Verdict angled across his body. His expression was considerably less disciplined. Kade smiled. Whatever was coming through that smoke had chosen the wrong refinery.

"Alright," he muttered. He beckoned toward the approaching darkness with two fingers. "Come get some."

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang

​

Varin had joined Gerwald’s forces for this attack, lending his services to the second legion and its dreadguard. The runes that were scarred into his flesh pulsed with a heat that etched their markings into his armor, heat discoloring and bluing the metal around them. A smoldering cloke of smoke and ember spewing from his back. He had watched as the enemy had cut down several dreadguard, not as hesitation, but to learn. Varin was extremely observant and known within the Sith to catalogue fighting patterns from his enemies into his head for more effective combat. He was not the hot headed young acolyte that ran in head first. He was a Knight, andHe was more patient now.

"The Jedi are linked through the Force. Do not mistake their coordination for conventional communication. Expect units to react faster than they should and from positions that should not know where pressure is developing."

His want to know what became of Jakku, to assuage or wring his heart, too, could wait, as he crouched low in the damp climate of the Thyferran jungle, listening over the bud nestled almost-inconspicuously in his ear to the Vanguard teams, as they finished settling into starting positions while she went off for final preparations—he assumed—allowing himself only the scant wonder if what he saw in her face on arrival had anything to do with that need. But again it could wait.

Varin’s eye searched into the brush. The tool he had grown extremely accustomed to using, to peer into the force to find signatures. The veil of the forest lifted from his enemies as they hid in brush or attacked from within it. His smoldering cloak separated into several super heated smoke tendrils that snaked along the ground floor, yanking a soldier here or there to the ground and enveloping them into a hellish coffin where they suffocated and burned. Their screams robbed from their lungs.

Varin called back the tendrils, releasing the now blackened and charred corpses.

“They mean to distract us and overwhelm, Lord Gerwald. If you could have your men regroup with us for a moment.”

The runes pulsed along his body as heat built from his body like a raging furnace.

“They will have nowhere to hide.”

Varin’s heavy gauntleted hand lifted to the sky, ears would pop with the pressure building within his palm and moisture would fall to the ground from the heat that built. A spark within his palm coalesced into flame. Flame imbued with the Dark Side, it felt wrong, it felt like chaos within his hand.

Once the men had regrouped the flame within his palm erupted from his fingers, springing forth over Gerwald and his men and latching on to any vegetation. Smoke rose further from the destruction as these flames began to devour the very life of anything that was not charred. Varin’s other hand slowly lifted fingers slowly spreading as the semicircular wall of flame began to push forward and spread.

His sight watched what these soldiers would do against such a force of nature before them.

Gerwald Lechner | Rik Perris​

 

[Aricsias Renaud]

Get off Thyferra
VIGILANT REAPER
ENROUTE

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel , Sariel, VIGILANT REAPER
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Three kilometers east, Connel cut through a maintenance fence. Behind him, Raphael slipped through the opening. No alarms. No shouting. No firefight. The distant thunder of the REEK covered everything. Connel checked the tactical map.

[How's our angry distraction?]

SERAPHIM replied. [Receiving concentrated enemy fire.]

[So good?]

[Operational effectiveness remains high.]

[Armor?]

[Ninety-one percent.]

Connel stopped. [Ninety-one?]

Bren answered this time. [They've been shooting at it for three minutes.]

Connel looked toward the distant weapons fire. [I love that stupid thing.]

[Focus.]

[I'm focused.]

[You're emotionally bonding with an armored truck.]

[It has character.]

[Move, Ariel.]

Connel moved.

The Sith had solved the mystery. Or believed they had. The enemy was operating from the west. Sensors confirmed it. Weapons fire confirmed it. Electronic interference confirmed it. A heavily armored assault vehicle was moving toward Overwatch Six.

Therefore: Omega was attacking Overwatch Six.

Security concentrated there. Patrols converged. Recon assets turned west. Reserve forces repositioned. Every response made perfect tactical sense. And every response was wrong. While the REEK made half the perimeter stare at it, Omega entered the eastern fire-control network. One position disappeared. Then another. A targeting relay went offline. No explosion. No alarm. It simply stopped reporting.

Overwatch Three went silent. Nothing. Then Overwatch Two checked in. Perfectly. Two had been abandoned fourteen minutes earlier. Control acknowledged it anyway. Connel watched the intercepted traffic scroll across his HUD. [They have no idea which positions they still control.]

[That's the goal.] Michael checked the countdown.

5:31:08

Nemesis had six hours. Omega couldn't defeat an army in six hours. They didn't need to. They could make an army spend six hours trying to understand what was happening to it. Bren studied the REEK telemetry. [They've committed enough.]

Connel knew what came next. [SERAPHIM.]

[Ready.]

[Ghost it.] The REEK turned. Its rotary cannon stopped. Jamming ceased. Transmitters went silent. It disappeared between two industrial structures, changed course, drove beneath an abandoned processing canopy and shut down. Thermal suppression engaged. Sensors went passive. One second the Sith were tracking a raging armored assault.

The next… nothing.

Enemy units converged. They found an empty road. Smoke. Shell casings. Burning equipment. No troops. No assault formation. No explanation. And while they searched… Overwatch Five stopped answering.

Rain poured across Thyferra.

The Sith still held overwhelming numerical superiority. They had ships. Armor. Infantry. Weapons. They controlled portions of the industrial district. Omega Squad had changed none of those facts. They didn't need to. Instead, they changed something harder to replace.

Certainty.

Which batteries remained operational? Which transmissions were genuine? Where was the enemy? How many enemies were there? Was the REEK manned?

Remote?

A decoy?

Was Omega west? East? Were there multiple teams? Was the dropship directing them? Was the Reaper even still nearby? Every answer created two more questions. Every question required time. Troops had to investigate. Reports had to be verified. Positions had to be reinforced. Roads had to be checked. Signals had to be authenticated.

And through it all...

The clock continued counting down. Connel crouched above another fire-support position. The Force surrounded him. Rain. Life. Fear. Anger. Pain. It was all still there. Even the rumbling as if coming from underground.

For now.

He thought about Alara. He thought about her children. He thought about Coruscant. Korvan had taught him something there. Cruel men liked pretending their cruelty was a choice made by somebody else.

Obey me or people die.

Resist me and their deaths belong to you.

It had been a lie on Coruscant. It was a lie on Thyferra. Connel sighted down his rifle.

[Michael.]

[Go.]

[I have Five.]

[Status?]

[Targeting array. Missile rack. Twelve personnel.]

[Can you shut it down?]

[Yes.]

[Quietly?]

Connel considered the question. [Probably.]

Bren sighed. ]That's never reassuring.]

[It wasn't intended to be.]

[Ariel.]

[Yeah?]

[Remember the objective.]

Connel looked toward the burning city. People were still fleeing. People Nemesis believed he could turn into shields. People who needed someone standing between them and the next missile. Connel lowered his rifle. Changed position. Found another entrance. [Protect the people.]

[Exactly.]

Connel disappeared into the storm. Behind him, another scheduled Sith check-in arrived. The position transmitting it had already been silent for eleven minutes. Control answered it anyway. For the first time since Omega Squad arrived, they were no longer trying to stop the Sith advance. They were doing something far worse. They were teaching an army to look over its shoulder. And five kilometers away, hidden beneath a processing canopy while Sith troops searched desperately for the enemy force that had never been aboard it… The REEK waited patiently for someone to tell it where to lie next. The warning arrived before the shuttle did.

Michael, Reaper.]

Bren was moving before the transmission finished. [Send it.]

New contact. Shuttle departing industrial sector. High acceleration.]

A marker appeared across Omega's shared tactical display. Then its projected course. Straight toward the REEK. Connel stopped. [That's deliberate.]

[No kidding.] Reaper continued. [Multiple life signs aboard.] That changed everything.

Bren's expression hardened. [How many?]

[Unable to confirm. Dozens.] Connel looked toward the western skyline. The REEK was still moving beneath the storm, rotary cannon barking intermittently as SERAPHIM drove it through a maze of industrial structures. Then the intercepted transmission reached them. Nemesis had made certain they heard it.

A civilian-filled shuttle. Collision course. Shoot it down and Omega kills the prisoners. Do nothing and the shuttle destroys the REEK. Connel said nothing. Bren didn't either. Then Connel looked at the REEK telemetry. Then the shuttle. Then the network linking all of them. A smile slowly appeared beneath the mask. [SERAPHIM.]

[Ready.][/B]

[How attached are you to the REEK's current location?]

There was a pause. [That question is imprecise.]

Bren looked at him. Connel pointed toward the incoming shuttle. [It thinks the REEK is there.] Another pause.

Then SERAPHIM understood. [Ah.]

Bren grinned. [Can you do it?]

[Attempting.] The REEK's Screamer jammer changed frequency. Not stronger. Different. Its electronic signature fractured across the battlespace. One return became two. Then three. The real REEK disappeared beneath a wash of interference. Several hundred meters away, another signature appeared. Same mass. Same emissions. Same target identification. At least as far as a hastily programmed attack profile was concerned. The shuttle adjusted course.

Connel watched the vector bend. [Come on.]

It shifted again. Away from the REEK. Toward an empty industrial roadway. Bren stared at the display. [SERAPHIM?]

[Target guidance appears to have accepted the false return.]

Connel nodded. [That's my girl.]

[I am not your girl. You are married to Lira Voss-Vanagor]

[Just a phrase.]

The shuttle screamed past the REEK. Close enough that the vehicle's collision-warning system began protesting. But it missed. The REEK turned hard between two buildings. The shuttle continued after the phantom contact. [Reaper] Bren said.

[Tracking.]

[Stay with it.]

[Already moving.] High above the city, something changed. For most of the battle the Vigilant Reaper had existed only as a voice. Now it began to hunt. The dropship descended through cloud cover with every unnecessary system dark. Its passive sensors remained locked on the shuttle while the aircraft moved parallel to the contact rather than directly toward it. No targeting radar. No illumination. No challenge. Nothing for the Sith to notice. The Reaper simply appeared where it needed to be. [Michael.]

[Go.]

[We have visual.]

[Can you get those people out?]

A pause. [Working the problem.]

Connel looked toward Bren. That was Omega language. Not no. Not impossible. Just: Working the problem. The shuttle's course changed again as the false REEK signature shifted. SERAPHIM dragged it farther from populated areas. The real REEK meanwhile disappeared behind a storage complex. For several seconds its weapons went silent. Then it erupted from another access route almost a kilometer away. Rotary cannon firing. Jammer screaming. One of its rocket pods elevated. The Sith had wanted an obvious enemy. They had one. The REEK was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. [REEK contact moving! Western sector! Correction, southwest!" Possible multiple vehicles!]

Bren heard the intercepted traffic and smiled. [There aren't multiple vehicles.]

Connel glanced at him. [They don't know that.]

[Exactly.]

The REEK accelerated. Its handling protested every turn. SERAPHIM compensated with what could generously be called enthusiasm. The armored vehicle clipped a duracrete divider and removed most of it from existence. Connel watched the feed. [Did she just hit that?]

SERAPHIM answered. ["The structure obstructed the optimal route.]

[So you drove through it.]

[Correct.]

Bren sighed. [She's learning from you.]

Connel sounded offended, his emotions were shut down but he still sounded offended. [I would've hit it faster.]

The Reaper stayed with the shuttle. More importantly, it stayed with everything else leaving Thyferra. That was when the tactical picture began changing.

[Michael.]

Bren heard something different in the pilot's voice. [Send it.]

[We're tracking multiple outbound freighters from the industrial district.][/COLOR]

[Refugees?]

[Life signs aboard.]

[Where are they going?]

[Low orbit initially. Multiple rendezvous vectors.]

Bren opened the map. Transport tracks appeared. One. Then another. Then several more.

[Are they evacuating civilians?] Connel asked.

Reaper hesitated. [Possible.]

Bren looked toward the burning city. Or moving them.]

Nobody said the word. They didn't need to. Connel enlarged the flight paths.

[Where are the freighters originating?]

[Primarily eastern industrial perimeter.]

[The same area they're securing?]

[Affirmative.]

[And where the bacta is?]

[Affirmative.]

Connel studied it. Something didn't fit. Nemesis had threatened civilians. Used civilians. Killed civilians. Now he was apparently evacuating civilians. No. There was a purpose. There was always a purpose.

[Reaper.]

[Go.]

[Don't engage those freighters.]

[Copy.]

[Follow them.]

Bren looked at Connel. [Quietly.]

[Obviously.] Connel pointed toward several ships climbing through atmosphere. [I want to know where they're going.]

Bren nodded. [And what he's protecting.]

That was the real question. Not what Nemesis was destroying. That part was obvious. What was he unwilling to destroy? What was he extracting? What required hostages? What required the barrels? What required six hours? Connel checked the countdown.

5hours

Still moving. [Reaper.]

Go.]

[Map every location he's reinforcing instead of abandoning.]

A pause. Then: Understood.] Icons began appearing across their HUDs. Bacta storage. Data centers. Industrial laboratories. Freighter loading zones. The unknown barrels. Connel stared at the pattern. [There.]

Bren saw it. [Yeah.] The destruction looked random. The defenses didn't. Every army revealed its priorities eventually. All Omega had to do was stop looking at what Nemesis wanted them to see.

The Overwatch positions exploded. All of them. Almost simultaneously. Connel felt the first detonation through the ground. Then another. Then another. Orange flashes illuminated the clouds around the city perimeter. [Down!]

Omega hit cover. Connel rolled behind a duracrete barrier as another explosion rolled across the industrial district. The Force screamed warning through him. Then something else appeared. Gas. Clouds spread outward from several destroyed positions. His mask immediately began analyzing. [Unknown airborne contaminant.]

Bren switched channels. [Nobody enters those clouds.]

[Already had that idea.]

[Reaper?]

[Tracking spread.]

[Get atmospheric modeling running.]

[On it.]

Connel watched the expanding clouds. Nemesis had destroyed his own positions. His own personnel. Whatever had been stored there mattered more than the people guarding it. Another piece. Another question.

[What was in those barrels?] Raphael asked.

Connel stared toward the drifting gas. [Wrong question.] Bren looked over. Connel pointed toward the city. [Where are the barrels that didn't explode?]

Silence. Then Bren smiled. There it was. [Reaper.]

[Go.][/COLOR]

[Cross-reference every barrel movement we've observed.]

Seconds passed. Data shifted. Some had gone to Overwatch. Some had not. A smaller group had moved elsewhere. Bren enlarged the route. [That's our objective.]

Connel nodded. [Find where those went.] The REEK, meanwhile, had become an urban legend. It appeared on one road. Disappeared. Reappeared somewhere else. Its jammer turned entire sections of the Sith tactical network into electronic soup. The rotary cannon fired short, controlled bursts. Not into crowds. Not into buildings full of civilians. Sensors. Vehicles. Barricades. Communications equipment. Things the Sith needed. Then it vanished again.

Every time they redirected troops toward it, SERAPHIM changed direction. Every time they anticipated its route, the REEK chose another. When they blocked a road... The REEK occasionally accepted that information. Other times it drove through the obstruction.

[Michael.]

[Go.]

[Enemy elements shifting toward REEK.]

[How many?]

[Significant.]Bren looked toward Connel. Connel was studying the barrel route.

[Keep them looking at it.]

[Copy.]

SERAPHIM spoke. [I would like clarification.] Bren raised an eyebrow.

[On?]

['Keep them looking at it.']

Connel answered first. [Be annoying.]

The REEK's rotary cannon immediately spun up. Bren stared at him.

Connel shrugged. [She asked.]

High above them, the Reaper moved again. It abandoned the empty path of the diverted shuttle only after confirming it was no longer threatening the REEK or an inhabited sector. Then it climbed. Not straight upward. Sideways first. Through weather. Behind thermal clutter. Across the edge of the Sith air picture. The Reaper didn't need to dominate the sky. It needed to remain unnoticed inside it. Its sensors followed the outbound freighters. Recorded transponders. Counted passengers. Mapped rendezvous points. Tracked which vessels stayed in orbit. Tracked which left. Then another priority arrived.

[Michael.]

[Go.]

[I have probable barrel movement.]

Connel stopped immediately. [COLOR=DARKORANGE[Where?][/COLOR]A location appeared. Not inside the main Sith concentration. Adjacent to it. Protected. Access controlled. Multiple routes converging. The kind of place an invading force protected without making it obvious that it mattered.

Bren looked at the map. [That's it.]

Connel wasn't so certain. [That's something.]

[Fair.]Bren started issuing assignments.

[Gabriel, get eyes on the approach.]

[Moving.]

[Raphael, maintain western pressure.]

[Copy.]

[Reaper, keep tracking the freighters.]

[Copy.]

[SERAPHIM…]

[Yes?]

Bren looked toward the REEK icon. Then toward the Sith forces moving after it. [Keep being a problem.]

A pause. [I believe I have demonstrated proficiency.]

Connel Shrugged [She's definitely learning from me.]

The mission had changed. Again.

That was fine. Plans changed. Objectives shifted. Enemies adapted. Omega adapted faster. They were no longer trying to defeat the Sith army. That had never been realistic. They didn't need to destroy every landing craft. They didn't need to kill every soldier. They didn't need to personally stop every atrocity occurring across an entire planet. They needed to identify what mattered.

Protect who they could.

Remove the enemy's ability to hurt those people again. Then make every Sith commander spend resources reacting to problems Omega created instead of advancing the operation they had planned.

The REEK created noise.The Reaper created information. Omega created uncertainty.

And Connel?

Connel hunted the thing Nemesis didn't want them to find.

Rain ran across his mask. The Force surrounded him. Still there. Still alive. Still whispering. For now. Ahead, another Sith position appeared between the team and the location the Reaper had identified.

Connel raised one fist.

Omega stopped.

He studied the guards. The patrol patterns. The cameras. The towers. The escape routes. Then the countdown.

5:06:31

Michael moved beside him. [Thoughts?]

Connel watched the facility. [They're protecting it.]

[Yep.]

[So we make them protect something else.]

Bren slowly turned toward him. Connel's mask hid the smile. Behind them, several kilometers away, the REEK's jammer screamed back to life. Then the rotary cannon began firing. Every Sith sensor in the western district turned toward it. Bren chuckled.

[Works for me.]

Connel lowered himself into the darkness. [Omega.]

Weapons came up. [Move.] Connel wasn’t Team Leader, but when he called out, everyone knew it was with good reason.

High above, the Vigilant Reaper silently followed the ships carrying civilians away from Thyferra.

Far across the industrial district, the REEK charged down another road it had absolutely no business surviving. And between them, Omega Squad disappeared toward the one place the Sith had inadvertently taught them to find. The clock continued ticking. So did theirs.


CONNEL VANAGOR AND OMEGA SQUAD ARE RELAYING SITH MOVEMENTS TO OTHER LEADERS ON THE GROUND AS WELL AS BARREL MOVEMENT

Aiden Porte • Seren Gwyn • Tobias Dib

Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

ANDROMEDA DEMIR

THYFERRA

PADDIES STEPPE BATTLEFIELD

DAYTIME • DAY ZERO

♫ FIGHT FOR THE LIGHT — JOSEPH TRAPANESE

x

x

Andromeda saw the Sith across the space, felt William's resolve strengthen. That dangerous edge in him grew sharper. Andromeda felt a tingle of something -- recognition, excitement, fear. Not of William, exactly. For William, and for herself. He had always kept that edge in check, had always directed it against the enemies of the light, but she couldn't deny that it was there. And it reached out to something in her, too: less practiced, less disciplined, but familiar -- too familiar -- with the same anger.

Like calls to like.

He bolted toward danger, because of course he did. Andromeda saw the Sith's darkness rising to meet them, smelled the despair and dread before it even touched her. The edge within her bristled and her dark eyes followed William. Fear for herself, too. For what she might do if they harmed him. For what she might become if --

She forced it out of her mind. There wasn't time to dwell and overthink and fret. They had to act.

Knight Demir, I don't want to lead them into butchery, William had said of the Vratix. If I become preoccupied with the enemy and the farmers seem of no use, pull them back. Please.

There was no time -- and the farmers were not yet a liability. The darkness was the immediate danger. The sickening miasma raced at her like a tidal wave surged to shore, and it engulfed her in the frigid dark of despair. A certainty crept up in her -- you will die here -- he will die here -- all these farmers will die here -- the Sith will scatter your bones -- no one will ever know you were here -- the Jedi, the Republic, the Thyferrans will all die screaming and no one will remember a single name --

Andromeda tried to buoy herself against it. She knew it could not be true. The Sith were master manipulators, after all. Yet the certainty sat so deep within her, so deep in her bones that it was like her name, or the crooked way her brother smiled, or the exact shade of umber William's eyes turned when the fires at Thule Manor burned low. She knew it. She shook her head, trying to clear it. There was a tendril of hope, a lifeline that somehow pierced the darkness, a testament to Briana Sal-Soren 's skill and dedication with the Force.

William was there, too. She couldn't see his blade, couldn't see him in the swirling black. She illuminated her own blade, a brilliant incandescent Baja Blast™ of light that seemed to die centimeters from the blade. Then, a muted silvery glow. She staggered toward it, her knees weak with fear. As she approached, a beam of pure light erupted from his free hand, piercing the sky even through the swirling shadows. Photokinesis, Andromeda recognized the technique at once. He had taught her the skill himself. She reached with her free hand, sleeve flapping in the aggressive swirling darkness. She drew on the Force, trying to block out the despair that threatened to capsize her, but mere sparks erupted from the surface of her hand, dying like embers.

Feel, don't think, she remembered William saying, heard it as if she were still in that training chamber on the Pegasus. She deactivated her lightsaber, focused herself, and her hand reached out. She touched his upper arm, groping in the darkness. His warmth and steadiness warmed and steadied her. A small glow appeared in her palm, no larger than a lantern light but growing with intensity and strength. Andromeda centered herself, leveraged the Force, and mentally heaved. The orb erupted, sputtered once -- twice -- and looked for a moment like it would gutter. But she turned her eyes toward the heavens and with them the light burned through the darkness until they could see blue sky.

Andromeda's eyes met William's briefly. No more than a touch, a recognition of the plan, and they lowered their hands. The beams joined and the effect was no mere doubling of the energy and effectiveness of the light. It split the darkness like lightning split the night sky, racing at the Sith creatures and their source, seeking to liberate the Jedi, the Vratix, and the Marines of the crushing swirl of despair and dread and doom.

x

x

WITH

William Thule • Darth Strosius • Madrona A’Mia • Lina Ovmar

 

[Tobias Dib]

Allies: Sith Order
Enemies: Everyone else
Tags: Connel Vanagor , Aricsias Renaud , Seren Gwyn , Aiden Porte , Master Orik


Torin didn't wait for Seren to depart. She had her orders, and he had his. His team retrieved the equipment needed to close several pressure valves, then moved to the relief valves and opened them. Instead of relieving pressure, they connected long hoses from the barrels to the relief valves, and pumped the contents into the lines. Once completed, they disconnected the hoses and turned the pressure valves back on, flushing the contents along with whatever naturally existed in the pipes. The Ronin watched the screens on one of the nearby workstations and nodded before opening a channel to his Lord, Nemesis. "Objective complete. We are now compromised. Headed to the extraction point. Torin out." Within minutes, Torin and the team exited the industrial park and climbed into a waiting shuttle where they shouldered through several hundred captured hostages. The ship took off and turned for the horizon, two other shuttles following in their way as they eased toward where the battle had been joined. And the countdown continued. One that had apparently been jeopardized. The enemy now knew Nemesis' timetable.

5.05.54
5.05.53
5.05.52

"Sir, we have a report of a group of Jedi trying to infiltrate the facility. Orders?" A heavy, exacerbated sigh nearly escaped Nemesis. It wasn't incompetence. No, he desired to control every aspect of his objectives. He could trust only himself with all the overarching details of his schemes, which included a living Jedi. "Dispatch all but one. Then bring the Jedi to me." When the words finished crossing the comms, he frowned. A wave of power emanated in the distance, and he felt the subtle change in the intricacies of the Force. It was the difference between plucking a flower and smelling its delicate scent and crushing the bud and petals to release a powerful wave of fragrance. That was the distinction. Power rippled through the Force, and he felt the distinctions. Amplification through the light side. Like all the Jedi were now holding hands and chanting, kumbaya. Meditation.

The cobalt blue eyes narrowed at the echo in the Force. It wasn't one of his Ronin or the Legion. Something other than an ally walked the depths of the factory's narrow pathways, close to where he felt Seren's familiar presence. It wasn't unexpected, nor was it unanticipated. Nemesis knew it was inevitable to meet resistance. Eventually they would encounter opposition. However, necessity did not require him to bend to circumstances he did not choose. And while he gave commands to see the completion of his objectives, there were many more orders given to supplement the coming engagement. Ones that would prove advantageous for the young man known as Nemesis. An intricate design that moved beyond the simplicity of the war on Thyferra. Fortune favored the bold, but what he was about to implement bordered on insanity.

Another message was sent from their Lord to one of the groups of squads clustered around the many pipes flowing to and from bacta storage, to the large bacta tanks, and to the smaller dispensaries where containers were filled with bacta in preparation for loading on freighters for imminent departure. "Sergeant Bell will be joining you shortly. Remember which containers have clean bacta and which ones are for ... distribution. We shall allow the Republic to keep those." He closed the comms and nodded at Bell, who swiftly departed.

The giant figure moved away from the others nearby, delving into the shadows to disappear from view. He raised his hands to remove his helm, setting it upon a piece of machinery whose purpose he did not know. It mattered little, for all it had to do was hold the buy'ce for a few moments. He raised a different comlink, retrieved from a pouch on his kama, to his lips and spoke quietly into it. It served only one purpose with a singular frequency programmed into the device. One that neither Sith nor Jedi, attacker or defender, would have access to. A voice distortion modulator sat on the microphone, and a location scrambler was integrated into the comlink. His next actions could easily see him imprisoned, tortured, and then summarily executed. None of those possibilities were particularly pleasant. Hence the precautions.

"Fist, this is Father. Respond." The comm hissed for a second before a deep voice came through the distortion. "This is Fist. Do we have a green light, over?" Nemesis closed his eyes and allowed all traces of emotion to drain from his features while he briefly considered the plan, the consequences, the rewards, and the punishments. During those brief moments, his face was lax; if one looked at him, they would find the young man's visage and Nemesis's persona at odds. Nemesis was a hulking, armored figure with a face unseen, even by his peers, with a carriage that was both menacing and coldly calculating. Meanwhile, the uncovered face was revealed to be of a young man, unblemished by age, unmarked by scars, and lacking the oft-telltale signs of darkside corruption. Instead, he possessed a healthy complexion, full lips, a strong jaw, and an unbroken nose beneath closed eyes and dark brows that matched the hue of the long hair swept into a ponytail behind his head.

And then the eyelids parted to reveal the glowing blue eyes inherited from his father. His lips opened as he responded. "You have a green light. Sector twelve is where your target lies. May the Force be with you. Father, out." There was no need to wait for a response, so he dropped the device to the ground and shattered it beneath his boot with repetitive strikes until nothing of worth or, more importantly, of evidence remained. He turned to see a Sith trooper standing behind him, mouth agape at what he had just witnessed. Or more specifically, heard. May the Force be with You. A decidedly un-Sith-like thing to ever utter. The young man allowed a wistful smile to flicker across his face as he looked at the trooper. "I never claimed to be a Sith." Then his eyes turned cold, and the smile contorted into a hardened line as sharp as a blade; his hand flashed out, fingers wrapping over the man's face, covering his mouth and nose. He squeezed until the trooper's eyes bulged and lungs no longer searched for air. The Force stirred at Nemesis' rage, and as he inhaled, tendrils of energy were pulled from the dying trooper and slithered across his face, the darkened streaks entering Nemesis' nose, ears, and open mouth.

When no more tendrils of shadow emanated from the trooper, Nemesis responded with a small grunt, as if to say, That's it? Carelessly, he released the corpse and retrieved his helm, returning it over his head and features. The HUD flickered to life as he allowed himself a final moment to look down at the dead trooper. "And I am no Jedi." There would have been no more words, even if the individual were still alive. Nemesis owed no explanation, and he would offer no justification for his actions. Eyes once more hidden beneath the helm glanced at the countdown.

4.57.32
4.57.31
4.57.30

Briefly, he wondered at the plan. It was a high price to pay to slip a traitor into the midst of the Sith. To have an insurgent behind the Blackwall. The cost wasn't in money, infrastructure, or systems but in blood. In lives. But it was his job to ensure there was no doubt, not an iota of suspicion. And if he were confronted by Jedi or Republic forces, he would have no proof to make them stand down and allow him to complete his mission. The secret plan orchestrated must come to fruition. Master Orik and his Jedi were in position, and, even now, prepared to move against the Legionaires. And any leverage he possessed lay destroyed beside the body of the dead Sith Trooper. No, failure was not an option. His eyes flickered to the countdown.

Nemesis watched the HUD, tracking troop deployments, responses to initial contact, and new formations as the battle raged. Then he turned to the more immediate issues: guerrilla warfare, the evolving tactics of those arrayed against him, and the frustrating cat-and-mouse interactions his forces faced. Whoever commanded his opponent's forces was wily and devious. That much was clear as the shuttle pursued the armored vehicle through the city. Silently, he applauded the enemy vehicle in its avoidance and almost wished he could send an order to the pilot of the pursuing shuttle to slow down. But the meticulously crafted persona of Nemesis would never give that command in light of the apparent objective.

Another command was given. This one was on a wide-band communique to the troops under his command. Was it necessary? Absolutely not. Was there less secure communication on the wider frequency? A definitive yes. Would the forces arrayed against him be able to decipher and crack the less secure code? It remained to be seen. If they did, it would narrow down what was perceived as Nemesis' most important objective. "All troops, prepare for contact. Whatever the price we must pay, we will secure our bacta supply and allow the rest to be dispersed across the galaxy for ... free use to all the lesser of our shared cosmos. We will win the day." It was the best he could do. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to all but a few trusted in their ranks, the 'clean' bacta taken by Sith operatives under the umbrella of his command would find their navcomputers to be faulty, leading to a sector of space that did not include the Blackwall. Soon after, their hyperdrives would go offline, leaving them stranded until they were found.

At the same time, trusted operatives were on the 'other' bacta freighters, their destination placing them near the border of Sith space, where enterprising Sith would slip out to claim these particular bacta freighters. His plans were falling into place exactly as he foresaw. For a moment, his thoughts turned toward Seren, and he wondered at her absence. Perhaps it would behoove him to explore why she hadn't returned. Yet he paused beneath the towers as one of his Ronin slid down the scaffolding and trotted over to his immense frame. "We are completing the transfers. Some have firewalls that we can breach only manually. We have to be on site. But many of the others are already underway. Their encryption was negligible." Nemesis paused. Not even his Ronin knew all his hidden agendas. And it would remain thus.

"Get a shuttle ready for me. I'll handle the on-site requirement personally." His glance at the countdown revealed time was swiftly expiring. "Sir, should we reinforce our lines that are under fire?" Beneath his helm, Nemesis grinned. That would effectively thin the defensive positioning there at the facility. "Yes, do so immediately. And ensure this entire industrial park has every last charge planted." The commander turned away as the Ronin went to carry out his orders. Too bad none of the Sith Troopers or his Ronin knew he could override every single device and trigger an immediate self-destruct... and, more significantly, he could override it so that he could deactivate the bombs.

Outside the entrance to the facility, he watched the bacta freighters blast off for orbit while another round of cargo freighters collected even more vratix, and the departing freighters joined the others in space and headed away from the Blackwall before jumping to hyperspace. All the vratix and humans gathered were beyond their clutches now. He allowed a small smile of satisfaction to crease his lips as he moved toward the shuttle waiting for him.

4.43.40
4.43.39
4.43.38

 

[Balun Dashiell]

LOCATION: Storage & Distribution Facilities
INVENTORY: Jedi Battle Armour | Crossguard Lightsaber | Standard Lightsaber | K-16 Bryar Pistol
DIRECT TAG: Helix
INDIRECT TAGS: Mantys Thranx (Post#60)

​

Balun knelt some distance between two fallen soldiers of the Republic, his eyes scanning the scene before him, searching for signs and answers as to what had happened here. Behind him were the remains of the entrance into the greater storage bay, doors seemingly blown wide open against their axles by brute force rather than explosive measure. One of the deceased lay crumpled awkwardly against the nearby wall, neck broken and head resting atop their shoulder, still carrying the look of panic they had likely felt the moment realisation had hit them that something had gone so very wrong.

A shallow sigh left the Jedi as he turned his eyes towards the second body. Their dissected corpse was a bloodied mess. Their head was a shattered pool of flesh and bone, yet as Balun took the time to concentrate on what he was seeing, burying his desire to mourn their loss, the Force echoed the sounds of screaming and a single powerful slugshot. It was only now that Balun noticed the state of the fallen soldier's arm, the wrist severely fractured, as if crushed under the immense weight of machinery. This man hadn't died suddenly like his compatriot, but had likely tried to reach for his sidearm.

Raising his left arm, he keyed into the built-in datapad display, opening comms to the Jedi Master who had ordered Balun to assist in securing the facility: "Master Ranvol, this is Balun Dashiell. Storage and Distribution is compromised. Two Republic personnel deceased, investigating further. Advise sending backup as soon as possible". He kept it brief, not knowing the situation on the Jedi Master's side. There was more here yet to be found, also.

The facility appeared to be massive from within. Towering storage shelving, stacked with cargo and vats of contents Balun could only assume were Bacta-related. As he moved quietly through the ground floor, he took note of the catwalk above, which would have made good points of ambush. The lights flickered, faltered, and some seemed to have died out completely, as though the facility's power had been cut to backup generators, far too dark for his liking. The Force flowed around him in strength, answering his summons, and he felt the need to be able to react on instinct and intuition. The one certainty he understood thus far was that he wasn't alone here.

As Balun neared the centre of the vast industrial structure, he was only now all too certain that there were eyes upon him. His right hand tightened around the hilt of his Crossguard, keeping the weapon at the ready, yet inactive until absolutely necessary. He could feel the tension building inside him and had to consciously remind himself to slow his breathing and pace himself. Concentrate.

Suddenly, without warning, the distant opening through which he had entered back to the rear of the building ground to a close. "Chit!" he swore, moving several paces in quick succession back in the direction he'd come, only to confirm that he'd been sealed in by emergency blast doors. Overhead, a klaxon sounded off in alarm, as if to announce the lockdown. Was this the work of the enemy, or had the Republic enacted this in order to preserve the Bacta? 'Guess you're committed now', he mused.

The Snap-hiss of his Sunfire blade echoed within the vast room, an unmistakable sound, distinguishable as the weapon of a Force User. The brilliant light blazed around him as he lifted the hilt overhead to reveal more of the area around him. Perhaps it was the tension of the battlefield, the ability to sense others out there engaged in the fighting, the turmoil of war and all it encompassed, but he felt ready to get to the root of the soldiers' demise here and ensure the security of the facility.

The Loading Annex lay farther ahead; the internal structure connected the two storage facilities, intended for shipping materials to and from storage. It would be there that any bacta would likely be housed and ready for retrieval and transport elsewhere. Easier to remove from the facility by the enemy. Basically gift-wrapped.

Former Mentor: Ala Quin
Jedi Apprentice: Cerys Dyn
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Jaun Smyth]

Senator of Thyferra
Xucphra City - Government Offices

​

Mantys Thranx | Daegon Corvinus ? | Seraphina Corvinus ?

Lock down.

They locked it all down.

Jaun smiled grimly as he looked out his window and saw a platoon of Vratix commandos from the planetary defense force taking up positions, mirroring actions all around the government offices which ranged from erecting barricades to setting up hasty air and personnel defense with light speeders with E-WEBs and other repeaters mounted in their beds posted at critical junctures, but there was only so much they could do without the Republic's assistance.

"The Republic is sending ships... aren't they?" asked a Svyk, one of the Vratix representatives. There was a relationship between humans and Vratix on this planet that was frought with past wrongs, but had been mended in recent years. Very recent. Mostly.

"Yes, they have assured me that the quick reaction fleet has been deployed. And their military forces on the planet are moving to intercept the Sith. It does not appear that we are a target yet."

A Vratix soldier stepped through the office doorway. "Gentles, threat risk is too high and situation unstable. You need to be moved to the operation room."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Jaun got up and with the rest of the Vratix representatives followed the Vratix soldier to the basement and into a vault that would aptly be described as a 'panic room.' Except one could still manage the affairs of State from within.

Jaun took a seat at the head of a long conference table, while the other Vratix seated themselves as well. A squad of Vratix soldiers took up positions all around.

Aides scuttled to and fro, with one stopping next to Jaun's ear, "A comm from Dr. Thranx."

"Do contact Senator Smyth."

The Senator's eyes widened and he took the commlink, walking into a breakout room.

"Hello my cricket," he said fondly, "I'm afraid we will have to cancel our afternoon opera tickets. It seems the Sith had other plans. Are you well? You should come to my offices. You should come now."

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Objective I
Friends: Acier Moonbound | Judah Lesan
Foes: Srina Talon | Mercy​

Panicked by Acier's sharp glance toward the street, the Zeltron woman shook her head violently, her eyes wide with terror. "No, no, no! You don't understand, I need to come with you!"

Lorn grabbed her shoulder, his grip firm. "Focus," he demanded, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Tell us what you know right now."

Hysteria had completely overtaken her, choking back any real answer as she hyperventilated, unable to form a coherent sentence. Before Lorn could press her further, a high-pitched blast shattered the quiet, a plasma bolt slamming into the stone wall inches above their heads.

"Movement!" Lorn barked, shoving the woman ahead of him as they sprinted down the narrow corridor.

Dashing through a doorway, they breached a dark, abandoned shop, the heavy metal door sliding shut behind them. Lorn pinned the woman against the counter, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Listen to me. Tell us what you heard before it's too late, and I swear we will take you with us."

Her breath hitched, tears cutting through the grime on her face. "They're mobilizing," she stammered out, the words spilling in a desperate rush. "The Sith are gathering the fleet. I heard names. Ukatis, Thyferra, Bassadro. They said to prepare for a mass offensive along the border!"

Heavy boots smashed against the outer entrance before she could say more. The reinforced door gave way with a screech of tearing metal, and three red-bladed lightsabers ignited in the gloom, casting blood-colored light across the ruined shop.

Lorn reached for his weapon, but a Sith assassin lunged forward with unnatural speed, vaulting the counter. Cold steel fingers locked around the Zeltron's arm, dragging her back toward the doorway as she screamed for help, her nails desperately clawing against the concrete floor.

----

Light from the Force settled over the walkway like a quiet tide as Lorn and Acier made their way toward the heavy refinery doors. The radiant pulse of Briana's presence resonated across the jungle, grounding their spirits and reinforcing their resolve against the dark tide rising above Thyferra. Her efforts were keeping the overall strategy intact, holding the line where it mattered most.

Acier's tactical assessment of the refinery doors made total sense. "We'll leave the main kill zone open," Lorn replied, his eyes scanning the industrial gantries above. "Keep them channeled into the light."

A rustle of debris near the outer access hatch pulled his focus backward. Turning toward the noise, Lorn observed a battered, half-barefoot survivor staggering through the smoke with an blaster slung at his waist. While the stranger's disheveled appearance raised initial concern, no genuine malice radiated from his presence in the Force. Catching the man by the shoulder as he stumbled, Lorn steadied the disoriented wanderer.

Dread spiked through the Force a split second later, mirroring the sharp panic bleeding off the newcomer. Shadows lengthened at the edge of the smoke, heralded by a suffocating presence that set Lorn's instincts on edge. Whatever haunted this stranger had followed him straight to their doorstep, accompanied by a massive, looming figure that spelled immediate danger.

"Friends?" Lorn muttered dryly to Acier, offering a weary grimace.

Looking back at the bruised wanderer, Lorn gestured toward the open threshold behind them. "It looks like our day is about to turn just as sour as yours, my friend. Let's get inside."

A deep, mechanical chime echoed through the superstructure as heavy blast doors began to drop across every outer portal of the refinery, sealing the perimeter and signaling that their retreat into the fortress was now or never.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Objective: 1
Allies: SO and their allies Tobias Dib Varin Mortifer
Enemies: THR, their allies and Aiden Porte


Aiden's answer was exactly what Seren had expected.

So be it.

There was no anger in his voice and no wasted bravado, only the same stubborn certainty she remembered from Chalcedon. The memory surfaced strangely against the landscape surrounding them now, one terrible place layered over another. Then it had been oppressive heat, dust, chains, and smoke curling through narrow market lanes. Here, rain hissed against scorched ferrocrete while columns of black smoke rolled upward from burning Alazhi fields and mingled with the heavier industrial haze surrounding the refineries. Lightning flickered somewhere beyond the choking cloud cover, briefly illuminating skeletal gantries and processing towers before everything vanished again beneath the murky orange glow of distant fires.

Seren watched the subtle motion of Aiden's hand toward those accompanying him and understood what followed before anyone fired. Once, she might have stood where he did. Not upon Thyferra and not against these particular enemies, but beside Jedi preparing themselves against an approaching darkness, reading the gestures of an ally and trusting that whatever came next would be done together. That life was gone. She had made choices since then that placed her here instead, crimson burning in her hand while a Jedi stood between her and the road she needed to take. Yet those years had not vanished merely because her allegiance had changed, and the first instinct that came to Seren was not to answer Aiden's preparation with an attack of her own.

"Stand down."

The order was directed toward the Ronin still near enough to hear her, sharp enough to carry through the drumming rain, weapons fire, and distant concussions without requiring repetition. Seren did not look away from Aiden while she gave it. "Do not engage the Jedi. Get clear." There was no reason for them to die over this. Whatever Tobias intended elsewhere on Thyferra mattered more than soldiers throwing themselves against a Jedi Knight simply because the two sides had found one another in the rain. If Aiden intended to stop her, then Seren would deal with him herself.

Blasterfire came anyway, whether from those who had fired before her command reached them or someone who had chosen not to heed it. Seren felt the Force gather around Aiden and recognized the shape of his defense almost instinctively. Bolts struck an invisible barrier and scattered harmlessly against it, brief flashes of red reflected in the rain before the energy surrounding him changed. For a fraction of a second, some old part of Seren's training supplied possibilities. She could attack while he was committed to the defense. She could turn his concentration against him, strike through the Force before he transformed protection into something else.

She did neither.

The barrier surged forward.

The Force struck like a wall becoming a wave, driving rain sideways beneath its passage as spray exploded from the ferrocrete and loose debris lifted into the air. The Ronin nearest Seren were caught almost immediately, bodies torn from their footing and thrown backward across the slick pavement while others crashed against machinery or disappeared into the gray curtain of rain. Seren did not answer their fall with anger. The instant she felt the pressure gathering, she drove her awareness downward through herself and into the world beneath her boots, reaching through the Force for the solidity buried beneath duracrete, foundation, and Thyferran soil.

She rooted herself there.

Her stance widened beneath the impact. The hem of her jacket snapped violently behind her, and her long blue-black hair whipped away from her face in streaming strands while Voidstar's crimson-cored blade wavered beneath the pressure. The collision drove through Seren hard enough to force a strained breath from her lungs, her boots skidding through water and oily residue before the resistance she had built beneath herself caught and held. Rain sprayed around her ankles while fragments of scorched vegetation swept past in the telekinetic gale. She could have pushed back. The Force was already gathered around her, and retaliation would have been easy to justify after what Aiden had done.

Instead, Seren endured.

There was something painfully familiar about that choice. Defense before retaliation. Control before anger. The decision to absorb what she could rather than turn every exchange into an escalation. Those lessons had belonged to another Seren, a younger woman who had once believed the Jedi offered her a place in the galaxy. The Order had failed her badly enough that she had eventually walked another road, but failure had not erased everything she had learned there. Some habits had sunk too deeply into bone and instinct to be discarded simply because the color of the blade in her hand had changed.

When the last of Aiden's force passed around her, Seren straightened slowly and drew a deeper breath. Water ran from the ends of her blue-black hair and traced cold lines along her cheeks while amber eyes remained fixed upon him through the veil of rain. She did not immediately advance. She did not send the Force back at him. Voidstar remained ready in her hand, but its point dipped fractionally rather than turning toward his chest.

"That was your warning, then."

There was no accusation in the observation, only quiet acceptance. He had given her the chance to turn around. She had refused. Now he had made his position unmistakable, and Seren could hardly condemn him for it when she understood exactly why he stood there. Had they met years earlier, before the Sith, before Malachor, before so many choices had accumulated between the woman she had been and the woman standing here now, she might have called Aiden an ally without hesitation. Perhaps that was why she was still giving him chances she would not have afforded everyone wearing the mantle of Jedi.

Her awareness expanded beyond him for a moment, slipping outward into a battlefield so saturated by fear, fury, pain, and death that individual presences blurred together beneath the weight of thousands. Thyferra seemed to scream through the Force while its fields burned, soldiers died around its refineries, and powers far greater than either Seren or Aiden tore at one another across the planet. Yet amid that maelstrom, one presence cut through everything else with a familiarity deeper than simple recognition. Heat carried through the Force like banked coals beneath her skin. Fire answered it, familiar in a way that had nothing to do with the burning fields surrounding her, and Seren knew him before conscious thought supplied the name.

Varin.

Her attention faltered for only the smallest moment as understanding settled into place. Somewhere upon Thyferra, beyond the black curtains of smoke and armies tearing themselves apart around the refineries, Varin Mortifer was fighting as well. Seren could not determine precisely where through the chaos, nor did she reach for him strongly enough to risk distracting either of them from whatever stood immediately before them. She did not need to. Knowing he was here was enough. The familiar presence steadied something within her, not because she needed Varin to fight this battle for her, but because he belonged to the life she had chosen after everything else had fallen away.

The Ronin behind her were beginning to recover from Aiden's blast, shapes moving through rain and smoke as some dragged themselves upright and others retrieved scattered weapons. Seren lifted one hand without looking back, preventing whatever retaliation might otherwise have followed.

"Stay back. That's an order."

Voidstar lowered slightly rather than rising for an attack, its crimson glow bleeding across the rain between them and reflecting in shallow pools gathered over the ferrocrete. The gesture would have looked strange from almost any Sith standing opposite a Jedi after being attacked. Seren did not care. She had never measured herself by what a Sith was supposed to be any more successfully than she had once fit neatly into what the Jedi expected of her.

"Aiden."

She used his name without title, her voice carrying between the steady hammer of rain and the distant thunder of battle. There was something different in the way she regarded him now, not softness exactly, but recognition of the absurdity that had brought two people who could once have stood on the same side to this particular moment.

"I'm going to ask you once more."

Her gaze slipped past him toward the industrial park beyond, where processing towers vanished into smoke and narrow routes between them led back toward Tobias and everything she had been ordered to return to. Whatever Aiden believed she intended, whatever conclusions he had drawn from finding her among the invading forces, that simple fact remained unchanged.

Her way home was behind him.

Seren returned her gaze to the Jedi. "Let me pass." She made no move toward him yet, unwilling to turn the next few seconds into violence unless he forced the choice. "You don't need to follow me. You don't need to trust me. You certainly don't need to help me. But the person I came here with is behind you, and I'm going back to him."

The rain continued to gather upon Voidstar's hilt and run between Seren's fingers. Somewhere beyond them another detonation rolled across the refinery district, orange light briefly illuminating the underside of the clouds while the ground trembled beneath their feet. Seren barely acknowledged it. Her attention remained on Aiden, and for a moment Chalcedon intruded upon Thyferra again. She remembered broken cages and terrified captives, remembered a Jedi with a blue blade who had wanted the same thing she had wanted then. Freedom for people who had none.

It would have been easier if she hated him.

Seren had learned long ago that the galaxy rarely afforded anyone such convenient simplicity. Aiden had not become less of the man she had encountered at that slave market merely because they stood on opposing sides today, and Seren could not pretend the part of herself that had once been Jedi did not understand him. Perhaps, under different circumstances, they would have fought beside one another more than once. Perhaps she would even have trusted him at her back.

Today, he stood in her way.

Another explosion briefly drowned the rain beneath a deeper roar. Seren finally raised Voidstar into a proper guard as the vibration passed beneath their feet, her blue-black hair settling wetly against the shoulders of her jacket while amber eyes remained unwavering upon him. Even then, she did not advance.

"Move aside, Aiden."

There was no hatred in her voice and none of the theatrical menace so often associated with those who carried crimson blades. If anything, there was regret beneath the resolve, because Seren knew precisely what would happen if he refused and suspected Aiden did as well.

"Please don't make me fight someone I could have once called an ally."

For the moment, Voidstar remained still in her hand and the Force remained gathered defensively around her. Seren gave him that final choice because some part of her still believed choices mattered.

Even here.

Even now.

 

[Muad Dib]

Allies: THR, puke, Jedi Order, vomit
Enemies: Sith
Tags: Open
Objective: Rescue and Evacuate civies

"DOWN DOWN DOWN!"

He leaned his body over the small family, tucking the small limbs of the children as close against the wrecked speeder as possible while his armored form shook from several errant blaster bolts. The beskar'gam deflected the shots, though the impact still bruised his back. The two children in their mother's embrace were pressed lower, allowing his own head to drop below the line of sight of the sniper.

The city street was in ruins. Duracrete buckled from nearby explosions, glass littered the ground, and ruined hulks of vehicles were upended all around. Beside the obvious damage, the bodies of deceased civilians were scattered like trash. Adults riddled with wounds were one thing. It was war. But the diminutive forms of children were another. He activated the comlink in his buy'ce. "Twenty-sixth floor. Two, maybe three snipers. And their spotters. Southeast corner. Dallas, would you mind?"

An affirmative was heard before the whistle pierced the city block, an RPG flashing skyward and blowing the corner office to hell. His head raised, and he watched two bodies falling from the heavens. Hands kept the family pressed low while the screams from the Sith ended upon impact on the ground. Muad slowly stood as one of his squads neared his position. "Get them out of here. We're going to do a quick search of that apartment complex to see if any stragglers are holed up." He squatted next to the family, and he reached out to wipe the tears from the young mother's face.

"My people are going to get you out. I'll check you home for the others. The ninth floor." As the squad slid behind the wrecked speeder, he nodded to them before rising, a blaster rifle held firmly to his shoulder. A nod was all it took to get the squad retreating with the family. Throughout the city, the sounds of battle echoed with a familiarity he knew well. The noise of war reverberated along the tall buildings, amplified against the walls of burning towers. Clothes, papers, and other miscellaneous items fell from the heavens. Most were in various stages of burning. He had already seen multiple jumpers from the heights. When faced with fire, billowing smoke that choked the lungs, or the troops of marauding Sith, many had chosen their own end at their hands. Jumpers who had lost all hope and faith decided to end it quickly and without the impending agony. He'd seen it before.

He weaved along the destroyed landscape, eyes averted from the lone jumper and the family that jumped together. He understood why they did it, though it was a choice he would never make. Guess that was the difference that made him effective at his job. While everyone else fled danger, he always ran toward it. His boots skidded along the glass as he arrived at the entrance of the apartment complex. When the two squads of Aegis Troopers arrived at his side, he nodded. "By the numbers. We sweep each floor and get any civies still here out and to the corridor. Make contact with the enemy, make sure you put them down. Hard and fast. Then continue. Let's go."

They entered the lobby by stepping through the blown-out windows. Glass shattered under their steps as they eased through, rifles at the ready. After a few minutes, they converged at the stairwell. No words were needed. They knew their jobs. The door was pushed open, and they began ascending, one slow step at a time.

~ ONE HOUR EARLIER ~​

The rain fell from the heavens and thoroughly soaked soldiers on both sides of the conflict. No lightning split the skies, only the falling missiles, drop ships, and the bright lines of orbital bombardment from the Sith. Surface-to-air missiles lashed out at the attackers, finding many targets with large explosions that illuminated the planet below. Falling shrapnel from the destruction joined the list of chaotic descending objects. Planetary turbolasers blasted great beams of destructive light upwards, and, for a moment, Muad felt like he was attending a festival with a massive light show. And then the screams of wounded melded with the sounds of blasterfire and melee combat, which brought him back into the moment.

To the left, the armies of Sith and Jedi, the Order and the Republic battled over something other than a planet. The people, human, Vratix, or otherwise, did not matter. The planet itself was as unimportant as the tens of thousands like it. The system bore nothing of noteworthiness. Other trade routes and hyperspace lanes offered quicker travel to more places. The only reason the battle unfolded was one thing. Bacta. A resource. This was the true reason armies warred and the innocent died—a commodity. So when Muad was faced with a choice- to turn left and add his number to the hordes or to turn right and fight for the people of Thyferra by helping them to escape the theater of war ... There was no hesitation in his decision.

There were plenty who offered their lives upon the altar of war. This one time, he would spend it rescuing innocents rather than facing another faceless enemy. As they marched into the city and began the evacuation, he pondered why he chose this other path. In the attacking armies were a few he held to be dear, some where a friendship was established, and others he knew. A time before. When flags of purple waved across this sector of space, and there was no need to disguise ambition, hatred, love, or what side of the Force you hailed from.

When it didn't matter if you were Jedi, Sith, or witch, you could wear the iron skin of Manda'yaim. Or attend festivals in Galactic or Sith space. When you were free to discover who you were and what planet you belonged to. When a confederacy of independent systems and planets came together, united under a single banner—a place where disagreement didn't mean ostracization, banishment, or imprisonment. The many different voices were heard and recognized.

Maybe that was merely a fevered dream of a time held in distant memory. Perhaps the galaxy was as it always had been—a broken place filled with broken people. And yet, his reluctance may have affected his decision.

Another possible influence was Rin Taal . Traveling with her and protecting a caravan began to show Muad he was more than just a killer who was very good at what he did. Maybe there was more behind the glowing blue eyes. Then again, it could have been the millions of innocent lives that needed help before the battle stole their souls to march into whatever afterlife they believed in. Regardless of the reasons, Muad and his people began evacuating the city's populace while they still had time. And even so, the mad master knew there would still be plenty of opportunity for conflict. His prediction proved correct as, almost immediately, they made contact and engaged Sith forces intent on only one thing. Chaos.

~ Now ~​

Muad moved slowly down a corridor on the fifth floor. It should have already been cleared. On the above floors, his people continued evacuating the families who were stubbornly refusing to leave despite the building being on fire next to a warzone. But as he climbed the stairs, he sensed people still on the floor. So he stayed to do a final sweep. Two of the apartments held nearly a dozen people who believed they could hunker down and weather the proverbial storm. Somehow he managed to convince them of the foolishness of their plans. Now, only one apartment remained. As he neared the final door, he paused before a word escaped. "Fierfek."

An explosion blew the door and most of the wall outwards, slamming him into the adjacent wall and through it. He hit the ground and skidded several meters before he used the momentum to roll to his knees, the blaster rifle shattered across the stock. Tossing the ruined weapon, he watched as several massive Sith moved through the black smoke caused by the explosion, and red lightsabers pierced the haze surrounding them. Muad grinned as he rose to his feet.

It was now time for some fun.

 

[Helix]

Tag: Balun Dashiell
Equipment: Shotcannon​

"The Jedi are linked through the Force. Do not mistake their coordination for conventional communication. Expect units to react faster than they should and from positions that should not know where pressure is developing."

"Acknowledged." Responded Helix curtly. "Resistance nonexistent for the moment, but remaining on alert."

"Sir, lockdown procedures are in effect. Blast doors are closing throughout the complex." Reported one of the droids.

"No matter, we're already inside." Responded the warlord calmly. "Still, I suppose it is best to let them know this facility is under new management."

As if to illustrate the point, Helix brushed a finger across one of the massive power couplings lining the wall. The building's lights flickered, then died.

Now he was the building, tainted as it was by his consciousness. Even to be touched by Helix was to put one's body and soul at peril. This applied whether one was meat or metal, or in this case, a bacta storage and preservation facility.

Motes of his essence now coiled around lights, doors, temperature controls, fire-suppression systems. A profound infectivity was part of his nature, in more senses than one.

To outside observance, all would appear normal. Helix now controlled all systems that could possibly suggest otherwise, though a physical search would reveal the truth.

Every security camera and sanitation droid was now his eyes and ears, and he put them to use scanning the complex. He was less-than-surprised to see a Jedi within, golden sword held high and jaw set in an expression of resolution.

Helix knew that look well, had seen it on the faces of thousands of warriors over the long centuries of his existence. As his continued presence suggested, each and every one had failed, and many had been absorbed into his alien multi-consciousness.

This fellow would be no exception, of that Helix was certain. He made no move to shut doors or otherwise bar the Jedi's approach. All of those things would only delay the inevitable, and unduly hamper a necessary confrontation.

When the Jedi arrived, he'd have to deal with it himself.

Helix watched the hero's journey languidly at first, observing as he advanced into the dragon's lair with intent to slay it. This part was always a fascinating look into how the other side thought. It was an ancient maxim that one could not truly defeat their enemy without knowing their enemy, and Helix knew Jedi more than most.

No small number of those he'd conquered and absorbed were Jedi themselves, and he could feel their encoded minds squirm in terror within the roiling vastness of his glorious totality. Their memories and skills were his to utilize, but data could never quite encapsulate abstractions like bravery.

Bravery was the province of those with a larger cause than themselves. So it was with the Jedi.

Helix accessed the building's intercom system, causing his voice to crackle lazily across it.

"I can see you there, a knight in less-than-shining armor, admiring my handiwork. It's quite something, isn't it?"

"Slapdash compared to my best, regrettably. This is a professional outing, and I'm afraid I don't have time to... restructure my playthings in my usual preferred manner. You'll just have to make do with what's there."

"Wipe the brains off your boots before you come in, but by all means, come. Enter the lair and confront the dragon. That's what Knights do, isn't it?"

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Zaltin Corporation's Production Facility
Interacting with: Quinn Varanin
Items: x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x

For the benefit of the Sith Order.

Hearing those carefully spoken words fall from Quinn's lips made Sibylla pause. And while it wouldn't be enough to interrupt their stride, there was a slight purse of her lips as she glanced sidelong at Quinn.

Curious. Thyferra had maintained neutrality since the fall of the Galactic Alliance, carefully balancing the interests of corporations whose bacta supplied governments on nearly every side of galactic conflict. Now, however, Thyferra sat beneath the banner of the High Republic, and that changed things.

Sibylla did not need years spent in politics to understand how contracts maintained on behalf of a Sith government would be perceived now. Particularly after the attacks attributed to the Sith and Covenant across the Republic's borders -- more importantly, there was legislation to consider.

The Senate had already passed measures imposing strict tariffs, financial disclosures, and additional review upon companies conducting business with known Sith governments. If Zaltin or Xucphra maintained contracts directly supplying the Sith Order, then those agreements would almost certainly become subject to scrutiny.

Which meant Quinn's contracts were not merely being threatened; they were about to become politically radioactive.

But it was Quinn saying she was here to 'smooth things over ' that prompted Sibylla's brows to draw together. That Quinn had come personally suggested she understood precisely how precarious the situation had become. But it was the next remark that earned considerably more confusion.

"Filtering your messages?" Sibylla looked toward Quinn in slight confusion. She had received Quinn's messages, but there was a difference between personal and official. The problem was that Sibylla's official correspondence rarely reached her untouched. Anything addressed to the Voice passed first through the Royal Secretariat and diplomatic security, where staff sorted thousands of communications by urgency and subject. Encrypted or unusually vague correspondence, particularly anything originating through Echani diplomatic channels, would have been routed separately for authentication before being forwarded to her office.

"I do not understand. If you were attempting to warn me about something, why would -- "

You should not have com --

The universe answered before Quinn could because the first impact swallowed everything; sound, thought, even the very air from her lungs. Sibylla barely registered Quinn moving before an arm caught her and violently pulled her close, and then the world became white.

The Force barrier flashed around them just as the shockwave tore through the facility. Transparisteel fractured in spiderweb patterns. Fixtures ripped loose. Somewhere behind them came the tremendous metallic shriek of structural supports buckling beneath forces they had never been designed to withstand.

They struck the wall, and white-hot pain exploded through Sibylla's shoulder and her head as it cracked against the wall. For several seconds, there was nothing but ringing in her ears. Then, after what seemed like a second, moving like molasses, she slowly opened her eyes.

Dust hung suspended through the atrium, illuminated by flickering emergency lights. Something warm slipped along her temple. Sibylla lifted trembling fingers toward it, only to pull them away stained crimson.

"Sibylla…"

That tawny hazel unfocused gaze found Quinn.

"The Sith have come to take Thyferra."

The Sith had come to...Take Thyferra.

"Why, of all places, are you here?"

Sibylla blinked. Once. Twice. Then the flicker of distant fire drew her attention beyond the fractured viewport, the attack seeming to unfold in grotesque slow motion. Ships darkened Thyferra's skies. Fire burned along the horizon where something had struck the surface, an ugly column of smoke climbing into the atmosphere.

And suddenly Quinn's earlier words returned with vicious clarity.

I am here for the benefit of the Sith Order. Our contracts are being threatened. I am here to see if I can smooth things over.

Sibylla stared at her, and deep in her belly, something twisted. Adrenaline shot through her body, her heart racing as pieces of the puzzle came together. Because Quinn's arrival wasn't simply about renegotiating contracts, because that made even less sense.

How could Quinn possibly negotiate anything while a Sith fleet was descending upon the planet?

Unless...

No.

Sibylla's expression changed and her eyes went wide. Around them, Zaltin personnel were already reacting.

"Seal the processing wings!"

"Emergency shields are responding!"

Scientists and administrative staff disappeared through reinforced doors while corporate security flooded into the atrium. Automated shutters began descending across vulnerable transparisteel sections as alarms screamed throughout the complex. Somewhere overhead, shield generators hummed awake, the sound rapidly building until a faint shimmer enveloped the facility.

Another impact struck somewhere beyond the complex, making the shield flashed brilliantly in a crimson wave as it flowed over it. Then came another -- and this one punched through. A wing of the facility disappeared behind an eruption of fire and shattered duracrete, making the floor lurch.

Sibylla stumbled sideways, catching herself against the wall before forcing herself upright. One of her guards immediately reached for her, but she waved him away, hazel eyes never leaving Quinn. Shock was rapidly becoming something far more distressing.

"So this is why I was not supposed to be here?" She choked out at Quinn. There was disbelief in her voice, but there wasn't accusation yet.

Not quite.

Sibylla wiped the blood from her temple with the back of her hand, staring at Quinn as another distant explosion rattled the facility.

"Is this what you consider smoothing things over for the Sith's contracts?"

Her brows knitted sharply as shock fed her alarm and distress.

"By the Sith attacking and taking Thyferra?!" Her bloody fingers swung wide as she gestured toward the viewport. No diplomatic interpretation was generous enough to make what was happening outside anything else. No tariff justified this. No contract justified this. No dispute over bacta shipments transformed an invading fleet into a negotiating delegation. Sibylla's chest rose sharply as she stared beyond Quinn toward the burning horizon before returning to the Echani Queen.

"This is not how one smooths over contracts. This is how one uses force to take what they want whether the other party agrees to it or not -- and taking innocent lives while they do it!" she relayed plainly even as her jaw tightened.

Whatever ambiguity Sibylla had learned to tolerate regarding Sith affiliations, whatever uncomfortable shades of gray Quinn had forced her to consider since Moorja, there was nothing ambiguous about warships descending upon a Republic world and fully intending to cause such a mass level of destruction.

And Quinn had known they were coming.

That realization settled far colder than the blood trickling down Sibylla's temple.

"You knew." Sibylla finally uttered in a harsh, unbelieving whisper.

"You knew this was going to happen."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

LOCATION: Storage & Distribution Facilities > Loading Annex
INVENTORY: Jedi Battle Armour | Crossguard Lightsaber | Standard Lightsaber | K-16 Bryar Pistol
DIRECT TAG: Helix

​

"I can see you there, a knight in less-than-shining armor, admiring my handiwork. It's quite something, isn't it?"

"Slapdash compared to my best, regrettably. This is a professional outing, and I'm afraid I don't have time to... restructure my playthings in my usual preferred manner. You'll just have to make do with what's there."

"Wipe the brains off your boots before you come in, but by all means, come. Enter the lair and confront the dragon. That's what Knights do, isn't it?"

The Jedi Knight stopped in his approach the moment the intercom crackled to life, his weapon drawn into a low guard, now held in both hands as his eyes searched his surroundings while he listened to the one who spoke. Balun's intuition had been correct; somebody or something had indeed been watching him, though through the intercom, Balun could only assume they had the run of the facility's systems. That would certainly complicate matters.

Balun's supposed spectator made light of the deceased, passing their killing off as lesser works. The Jedi was no stranger to serving on the battlefield, knowing lives would inevitably be lost, yet he couldn't allow himself to become desensitised. Every life was worth fighting for; every living, breathing soul held meaning and value. Balun loathed the notion of participating in the war effort, yet the cost of doing nothing was far greater than the sacrifice every man and woman on the front line was undertaking today.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to relinquish this facility and come quietly", Balun asked rhetorically as he looked back to the entranceway leading into the loading annex. Judging by the voice over the intercom, he wasn't far, yet the Jedi knew better than to expect the opposition to simply surrender when they seemed to have the upper hand. If he could gain access to a terminal, presumably the one the speaker was using, then he could hopefully override any possible damage done to the facility. To do so, he would first have to contend with the present company.

Balun pushed on ahead, wasting no further time in accepting the invitation and leaving the warehouse behind him, entering the loading annex. Similar to the previous structure, the Loading Annex was also significant in size, encompassing two floors. The first held a wide-open space for vehicles to enter and be loaded with bacta vats and other large cargo, plenty of which was held in waiting on either side of the room, ready for transport. The second floor, however, was raised via a ramp with workstations for the crew. Overhead gantry cranes hung from the ceiling, utilised for the manoeuvring of the large vats of bacta, and vast crates and further storage shelving made the area equally difficult to make sense of the place in the absence of lighting, save for that which came from Balun's lightsaber.

What was most peculiar was the absence of life within the area. Typically, as a Jedi, Balun could sense the presence of his opponent. Here, he could only feel the tension and anticipated risk. It was possible that he had encountered a very gifted Force User capable of completely shrouding their presence, though few could do so fully. The alternative would then suggest that he might be dealing with something more machine than sentient...

"So then, here I am", Balun called out as he walked out into the open, crossing the lower platform where, on a typical day, there would have been vehicles stationed; "Why don't you come out and introduce yourself? Let us talk before things escalate any further..." With the blast doors closed, the emergency lockdown in place, Balun was in something of a predicament. It would be some time before reinforcements would be able to get to him. He needed to get the measure of his foe, to gauge their like. That way, if they could not be dissuaded from their actions, perhaps he could at least learn something that would help him in an unfortunate fight.

Former Mentor: Ala Quin
Jedi Apprentice: Cerys Dyn
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

TAGS: Brandyn Sal-Soren / Bastila Sal-Soren
OUTFIT: Black Sith Robes
WEAPONS: 2 Lightsabers hidden

So as events unfolded, they now had her in a crossfire....

Blasters. Such crude, noisy instruments....

As the blaster bolts tore through the air toward her position, she still remained unmoved.

And then suddenly the bolts on either side of her stopped short of their target. Like red insects trapped in amber. Held by the invisible, unyielding weight of Force Stasis.

This time she had completely turned her attention toward Brandyn. She reached out with her mind and found it: the deep, sour pool of his doubt. He was reaching, clawing inward, searching for more power from somewhere, anywhere else.

As if he isn’t strong enough.

Of all the choices Brandyn had made over the last few years, with many of them Velda had remained emotionally unmoved. Her experience over the Darkside had cultivated a meticulous mastery of her emotions over the decades, so she knew how to avoid the trappings of losing control..

When he chose Cybelle, Velda was fine with it. She had disagreed repeatedly and offered her warnings on what Cybelle would become, but ultimately the choice was his. Even then, many would have given up on Brandyn, Velda had not.

For the first time that she could recall with him. She felt something foreign. A small piece of her heart fell away as it began to break, if only in a glimmer of a few fleeting moments.

Not over anything but one detail that she sensed.

He didn’t believe in himself and felt he was unworthy.

She just stared at him. His audacity truly astounds. Did he really believe that Velda would pour so much time, effort, and energy into someone that was that?

He called out Velda’s name. Perhaps attempting to nerve her, knowing she had every intention of staying hidden.

Then she sensed that he was thinking about the force bond that he had with the witch.

And her eyes narrowed in hot, bitter disgust. As she finally answered him.

“What??” The question rolled off her lips in a smoky tone that sang of malice.

And then, without warning, she moved with unnatural speed and grace, force jumping into the air.

Not at Bastila, not at Brandyn, but directly arcing into the darkness of the bunker ahead of her. Finding separation from the two Jedi as she regrouped.

And then, the blaster bolts broke free from their frozen states, ripping through the air, racing across the space. Flying at Brandyn and Bastila’s direction in a blind fury.

While all this was happening, within the dark, right at the edge of her vision within her hood she peered at Bastila. Then a lightsaber shot from Velda’s right sleeve and into her hand.

The bright crimson hue came to life as she ignited it. The song of her saber being a deep hum to almost an electronic, animalistic growl, as she began to stalk her.

“Your flaccid Force Bond with that megalomaniacal witch is no match for the power within me, Brandyn.”

If only he knew the power he was searching for was not in Briana, not in the witch, but within himself. He just needed to believe.

Yet, she was not his fixer. It would be something that Brandyn would need to discover for himself.

Velda then emerged from the shadows and began to advance where Bastila stood. Her crimson blade lashed out in a vicious right-to-left sweep, biting through the air, aimed in an attempt to shear the nose clean off the Bastila’s blaster.

 

[Darth Tormenta]

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Darth Tormenta rolled her shoulders as she stepped around some rubble in her path. Most of the forces with her in this push were her own, the Ash Dragons. Pirates, with a reputation for actually accepting surrenders and not harming unarmed civilians. Their equipment was mismatched, there was no unifying theme or standard. Instead each pirate wielded what they felt most comfortable with. Some even carried slugthrowers, most often those that dealt with close quarters combat. A practiced eye could tell the weapons and armor were well cared for, Tormenta did not tolerate laziness among her forces. They split into smaller groups, her sub-captains giving orders and directing them from her inital directives. Once she joined the fighting, she rarely had the mindset to give orders.

Today she had brought her favored ground officer to be her second, a Lepi with cybernetic limbs and an eye for quick strikes and raids. Her main job was not delivering the cargo, as so many others. She was a spearhead to break open a path, then she could summon the standard soldiers behind her to come forward with the prize. She already knew what was ahead before she even emerged from the smoke, only a fool would fail to feel the Jedi closing in. That was good, she despised facing cowards. It was better that he come to her willingly, better for them both. For a moment she nearly grabbed the slugthrowers across her back, while not perfect she had found it was often a good tool for facing Jedi. Yet....she hadn't faced a Jedi in some time. So instead she grabbed her saberstaff, igniting only one blade.

Time would tell of the Jedi deserved both blades, or even her hands if pushed far enough. As she emerged from the smoke, something else became clear. When her eyes locked onto Kadeon Virell , cold air was billowing about her, frost forming on the ground. She raised her blade, taking a defensive stance.

"Finally, a fight. I so loathe the cowardice of those that preceded you. I was almost certain I would have had more fun staying with my ships, but you may yet change that."

While it was mostly the truth, what she did not mention was the squadron of Zafiroa Bombers waiting for her command to launch their payloads. Their ion loadouts were very handy for crippling defenses that Tormenta likely wanted to grab and take, if given the chance. More importantly, this was the first time they were deploying on the front lines of a war, there'd be little tactical information available on them, especially this far from the routes her pirates had used them on previously.

Suddenly she lunged forward, she would test him first with Vaapad, not the Juyo favored by many other Sith. If he proved intersting enough, then and only then would she ignite her second blade. If he pushed hard enough, she may even put away her blade for the real fun. That said, she still had a mission to complete, and as her forces scattered to prepare their own attacks, she flooded the area around herself and her opponent with supercooled air, coating the ground in ice and creating a thin mist around them. It wasn't enough to obscure them from each other, but it helped prevent anyone from interfering, and limited how her oponent could move. Once he was well and truly locked down, her bombers would launch, and use their payloads to disable enemy transports and clear a path for the true payload to begin advancing.

The payload disgusted her. Poisons and the like were weapons of cowards and assassins. Not her choice, but this was a war, she had a job to do. She would see the payload delievered if the resistance did not halt her. If push came to shove, she still had a few tricks up her sleeve to guarantee at least some of it made it to the target locations. Time would tell.

Tormenta went for a quck strikes first, the near full foot of height she had on her opponent meant she had an advantadge in reach, letting her test his defensive form and force him to either press closer, or back into her field of ice.

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Objective One
Industrial Complex Refinery
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Revna Marr

Zaiya could feel them.

Beyond the smoke and burning fields, beyond the Sith advancing toward the refinery, thousands of lives flickered against her empathic senses. All that fear, determination, desperation, and relief. Already High Republic clone troopers and their droid counterparts were spreading through the surrounding settlements, directing civilians toward predetermined shelters and evacuation routes while other units moved to meet the Sith advance even as lives were still lost in the casualty of war. All of these protocols had been established precisely because everyone had known this day would come.

Moorja. Ord Vaug. Kiffu. Dahrtag -- One after another, each of the worlds that bordered Republic space had been swallowed behind the Blackwall until nothing came back. It had blocked off communication and hyperspace travel from those worlds, leaving only scattered refugees who had escaped before it closed. Daring smugglers had braved and risked the Blackwall with fragments of intelligence, desperate messages from resistance cells and whoever they could carry out with them.

Zaiya had hoped Thyferra would be different... but maybe that had been silly, she mused, as the Lovalla's expression shifted at Revna's words, the bright young Empath suddenly looking older beneath the flickering light of burning fields.

There is no stopping what has been set in motion.

For one long second, Zaiya simply stared at the young woman who had the Darkside of the Force swirling so curiously around her. What had she lived through to have that hurt and all that the Lovalla could see in the painted hues of her emotions that surrounded her?

Then, as if making the decision, Zaiya gave a small nod.

"Then I will do what I must," she told Revna in that melodic but quiet, firm tone -- because Revna was right about one thing. There were people elsewhere who needed help. And there were people here who needed someone to make sure the Sith never reached that refinery.

It was with that thought that those iridescent opal-blue eyes shone with a gleam of determination as cobalt-flecked orange hues painted over the mottled spots of her cheeks and neck.

You shall not pass us, Zaiya told herself. And with that, the Force swelled.

"Secure the facility behind us!" Zaiya called out to the Republic soldiers behind her, the Kyber Crystal clip in her hair resonating with power, bracelets chiming as she raised her hand. "Make sure none of those troopers get past!"

The Clone soldiers moved immediately to get into defensive positions, and Zaiya shone.

In a dazzling display, the bioluminescence erupted across her rosy golden skin in a brilliant kaleidoscope, a multitude of colors chasing color until the Lovalla became a mesmerizing sight to look upon through the smoke. Just like that with an arc of a gesture, the Force surged down her left arm and exploded from her open palm in a blinding flash of an arc aimed directly toward Revna and the advancing Sith -- bright enough, she hoped, to overwhelm their optics and leave them blinking spots from their vision.

And even then, Zaiya was still moving.

Plink-plink-plink.

Several black and white pearls tore free from her belt with little snaps of broken thread, caught instantly within the Force with her other hand. In an instant, her fingers flicked, sending shards of ballistelekinetics as a few of the pearls that had bedazzled her belt shot forward.

Tiny EMP and stun grenades moved to scatter among Revna and her escort, each primed to erupt within its three-meter radius in crackling bursts meant to seize muscles, scramble electronics, and put as many Sith soldiers onto the ground as possible.

Preferably unconscious. Definitely grumpy, but at the very least, alive.

Because determined to stop them or not, Zaiya was still Zaiya. And if she had to stop an entire Sith advance by knocking every last one of them senseless?

Well... considering the extent of her jewelry and shimmering clothing, bedazzled with the phrik and tech-savvy, usable gear she was known for.

She had brought a lot of pearls.

 

[Rin Taal]

Objective: 1 on the surface of Thyferra
Allies: THR and their allies
Enemies: Sith and their allies
Tags: Open

Rin watched Muad go for only a few moments, though it was longer than she probably should have allowed herself. Golden eyes followed the black of his beskar'gam until soldiers closed around him and the growing distance made one armored figure increasingly difficult to distinguish from another. The warmth of his forehead against hers lingered alongside the memory of his kiss, an intimacy strangely out of place beneath a sky already scarred by the first exchanges of war. She could still feel him through the dyad, of course. Distance did nothing to change that. Yet there was something profoundly different about watching someone she cared for walk deliberately toward a battle while she turned in the opposite direction.

Her fingers found the necklace resting against her chest almost without thought. For the briefest moment she held it there, remembering what the metal had shown her within its facet only days before, before finally releasing it and looking toward the young Mandalorian Muad had entrusted to her. "Come on, Jade. We have our own work to do."

They left before the first real wave of fighting reached the outskirts of the city. Rin had studied the evacuation plans before the attack, committing the major routes, gathering points and designated safe zones to memory because maps had a habit of becoming considerably less useful once roads started disappearing. Decades spent protecting caravans had taught her that much. A route was only useful for as long as the world cooperated with it, and the world had begun changing around them almost immediately.

By the time the first groups of civilians reached them, one street had already been blocked by the burning remains of a transport. Another became too exposed when Sith forces landed several districts farther east than anticipated. Rin and Jade redirected the first families around both with little difficulty; then another group arrived, followed by another, until dozens became hundreds, and the simple task of preparing an evacuation route became the far more complicated responsibility of actually guiding people through it.

Nearly an hour later, rain had soaked Rin's hair and clothing against her skin, while smoke and dust turned the water running through the streets a murky gray. The city no longer sounded like a city. Every explosion rolled between the buildings and returned several times over, joined by the crack of blasterfire, the distant shriek of engines and the occasional thunderous impact of something large enough to make the pavement tremble beneath her boots. Rin's ears had been flattened against her hair for most of the last half hour in a futile attempt to soften the assault upon hearing considerably sharper than a human's. She had learned to endure it because the people behind her had enough to endure already.

"Keep together!" Rin called, turning as she walked so she could see the long column filling the street behind them. "If you're with a family, stay with them. If you're alone, find someone and stay with them. Nobody gets separated."

Jade remained close, armored and armed in a way Rin wasn't, and somewhere during the last hour they had settled into an arrangement without ever needing to formally discuss it. Rin found the road and kept the civilians moving along it. Jade watched everything that might make that road dangerous. It suited them surprisingly well. Rin had no desire to tell a Mandalorian how to fight, and Jade apparently had no objection to allowing someone who had spent much of her life moving people safely through dangerous country to decide where they were going.

The borrowed comlink at Rin's shoulder crackled, most of the transmission disappearing beneath static before a few broken words forced their way through. "...eastern corridor... compromised... repeat... do not..." Rin stopped walking, raising one hand when the evacuation column continued compressing behind her. "Hold here." The words passed backward from person to person while she looked toward the intersection ahead. Beyond it lay the route they had been following toward one of the principal safe zones, but smoke was already climbing above the buildings in that direction, thicker and blacker than it had been several minutes earlier.

"Well." Rin breathed out slowly, rainwater slipping from the pointed tips of her ears. "That would have been useful to know five minutes ago." There was no point complaining about it beyond that. The road was gone, and wishing otherwise wouldn't reopen it, so her eyes closed briefly as she reconstructed the district in her mind. South brought them closer to the main fighting, while north required crossing a broad avenue with almost no meaningful cover. West, however, offered something else.

Rin remembered a maintenance route she had noticed on the maps precisely because it wasn't intended for civilians. An old utility passage ran beneath part of the district before emerging beyond two of the larger thoroughfares. Under normal circumstances it would have been a terrible evacuation route, narrow, poorly suited to moving large numbers of people and undoubtedly unpleasant after this much rain. Under present circumstances, however, underground sounded considerably more attractive than open street.

"Jade." Rin turned toward her companion and pointed toward the next intersection. "There's a utility access two streets west. It should take us beneath the avenue and put us near the western edge of the district. I need to know whether we can reach it." Her golden eyes lingered on the Mandalorian for a moment before a faint smile softened the seriousness of her expression. "And your grandfather told you to listen to me, so don't go finding a battle just because one happens to be nearby. I need you back."

She left Jade to decide how best to accomplish that and turned toward the refugees, where stopping had already given fear time to catch up with them. Questions traveled through the crowd. Someone had heard that the Sith had broken through, someone else insisted the Republic lines were collapsing, and a third voice claimed the shelters had been destroyed entirely. None of them knew anything with certainty, which didn't particularly matter. Fear rarely waited for confirmation, and Rin could see it spreading from one frightened face to another.

Climbing onto the remains of a low divider, Rin raised her voice. "Everyone, listen!" The nearest conversations faltered, although those farther back continued, and she resisted the temptation to simply shout louder. Instead, she allowed the Force to move gently outward from her, touching without pressing, offering calm without trying to erase the perfectly reasonable fear beneath it. She had done something similar with frightened animals, nervous travelers and caravans caught in storms. People were more complicated, but fear itself wasn't, and gradually faces began turning toward her.

"Our original route isn't safe anymore, so we're changing it. That's all." There was no reason to tell them more than they needed to know. "We still have a way out. Stay with the people beside you, help anyone who needs it, and when we move again, we move together."

A small boy near the front clutched his mother's hand with both of his, staring at Rin with eyes far too wide, while somewhere behind him someone was quietly crying. Another explosion rolled through the district, rattling damaged windows and sending its echoes along the surrounding streets. Rin waited for them to fade before continuing. "I know you're frightened. You can be frightened and keep moving anyway. I've done it more times than I care to count." The faint nervous laugh that came from somewhere in the crowd was enough to bring the smallest smile to her lips. Good. Fear hadn't swallowed them yet.

Movement near the curb caught her attention as a man sagged against the person supporting him, one hand pressed against his side while blood seeped between his fingers. Rin stepped down immediately and crossed toward them. The healer in her recognized the problem before she even reached him, while the far less experienced part of her knew there were limits to what she could accomplish kneeling in a street during an invasion. "Easy. Let me see."

She crouched and carefully moved his hand enough to examine the wound. Bad, but not immediately beyond her. Rin pressed her palm against it and reached through the Force, feeling the damage beneath skin and blood. She couldn't repair everything here, nor did she try. Instead she slowed the bleeding and steadied what she could, giving his body a better chance to survive the journey still ahead. "I'm not fixing you here," she murmured when his frightened eyes found hers. "I'm buying you enough time to complain about the healer who does." His strained laugh became a grimace, but it was still a laugh, and by the time Rin withdrew her hand, two others had already volunteered to help support him.

She thanked them and rose, wiping bloody fingers against her already ruined trousers as another distant concussion trembled through the pavement. Beneath the violence surrounding her, however, something else touched her awareness. It wasn't danger, at least not danger directed toward her. It was Muad. The dyad had remained with her throughout the evacuation, sometimes little more than a distant warmth beneath everything demanding her attention, but now something sharper passed across it. Violence and focus carried through the bond, that particular edge she had already learned belonged to him when the part of Muad Dib forged by a thousand years of warfare came to the surface.

Concern tightened painfully around Rin's heart, and for an instant she wanted to reach farther, to see through him and discover where he was and what had happened. The bond made the temptation almost unbearably easy, particularly now that what lay between them had become so much more than the strange connection that had first joined them. She didn't give in to it. Muad had his people, and Rin had hers, but that didn't mean she had to leave him with nothing.

Warmth passed quietly through the connection, carrying the reassurance she couldn't give him in person. I'm still here, cyar'ika. The words carried no demand for an answer, nor did she need one. She simply wanted him to know that somewhere beyond the smoke and ruined streets, she was still doing exactly what he'd asked of her and exactly what she'd come here to do.

Rin looked up when movement emerged through the rain ahead, searching immediately for the familiar shape of Jade's armor. Behind her, hundreds waited for an answer about where they were going next, their lives depending upon decisions made in streets that seemed to change with every passing minute. Only hours ago Muad had told them to help as many as they could, and Rin intended to hold him to that. Her tail shifted behind her as she straightened, golden eyes moving from the returning Mandalorian toward the western streets beyond her. If the road they'd been given was gone, then she would find another.

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: Poison The Well [2]
LOCATION: Thyferra [Refinery]
SITH ALLIES: Mercy
SITH ENEMIES: Acier Moonbound | Lorn Reingard | Judah Lesan

"No, I don't think there is anyone you love more than me."

"Your confidence is exhausting, sestra."

Srina didn't respond further while the larger woman helped her into the shuttle as if it were some grand carriage. The conversation was light…Almost as if they were not raining hellfire down on a planet that apparently hadn't seen the writing on the wall. If they had…Why hadn't the High Republic executed an evacuation order and enforced it? Had they left the citizens of Thyferra in place to camouflage defenses and troop movements?

To make the Sith feel…Safe to act because it was business as usual?

If that was the case, then the Jedi of Naboo were far more ruthless than she had anticipated. It was something she could appreciate, but the simplest answer was typically the correct one. There were no minds ingenious enough among the Light to engineer something so practical. Sadly…This was likely an oversight coupled with ineptitude. Imagine, becoming a footnote because of some corrupted senator's clerical error. Her fingers twined with that of the Titan while they tracked her wayward prisoner. In the silence…She listened to reports.

Their children were…Everywhere.

The Sith Order had not crept into Thyferra beneath cloaks and false transponders. They had not come bearing treaties, smiling diplomats, or pretty lies wrapped in promises of peace. Their ships blackened the heavens, and soldiers marched openly bearing armor of black and bloody red. The intent was specifically designed to let the Republic know what was coming while Alazhi fields burned and the skies filled with war.

Her attention remained on the Refinery Plants that loomed ahead, growing larger in the viewport with every passing moment. Information passed through a Holo-HUD that was built into her armor. It held reports from the ground, detailing the first breath of devastation and the work of the Second Legion. The orbital engagement. There were fragmented confirmations from forces that had already found their way into places the Republic likely very much preferred they did not. None of it drew more than the faintest shift from the diminutive Echani.

<<Report, my wolf.>>

Even though she had heard it all, she telepathically tapped Gerwald Lechner to get his take on the developing situation. Her hand slowly pulled from that of the Lord of the Covenant as the shuttle stopped. The viewport had become a window into something infernal. Smoke-smudged transparisteel and the distant glow of burning fields pressed light into flashes of red and gold. Distant impacts illuminated the skyline…The work of the Shadow Hand, no doubt.

It was beautiful in a horrible sort of way.

Slowly…Hawkish golden eyes narrowed as she observed the largest of the Refineries. It wasn't particularly bustling with activity here but looked like attempts had been made to create some sort of choke point. Accidental? Possibly. Beyond the broken exterior wall…She could feel the frantic heartbeat Judah Lesan flickering like the wings of a hummingbird.

Beyond that, she felt someone else.

"…Acier…"

The name passed her lips before she could stop it. Slowly, she turned toward Mercy with a delicate sigh that spoke volumes. Yet another of her children that had tumbled into folly. She slowly turned toward the Titan, and there was almost something accusatory in her expression. She did not know the details…But her nephew had been lost on her battle-sisters' watch.

In the end her expression softened, and she let her head roll to the side to rest against the bicep of the giantess. If she was being fair…It wasn't Mercy's fault. The Light had dug its virtuous little claws into him long before he'd ever come to the Covenant. "I should have known he would be here."

Not because the young man was tracking her, but mostly because her luck was piss poor. The door opened while the hovercraft settled, and she waited only until there was enough clearance to pass beneath it before stepping down. Her silver-black armor caught the flashes of firelight while the engines sent dust and ash away from her boots. She didn't look to see if Mercy followed her because there was no need.

When a world was ending…Her battle-sister was always right beside her.

Her attention stayed on the tall buildings and the Jedi she felt within. Srina did not attempt to conceal herself, and the overwhelming scent of jasmine and rain filled the area while her irritation began to rise. The Sith had announced their arrival from orbit, and she had no interest in crawling around Thyferra like a thief in the night.

Judah...Judah, knew better. Did he not?

She could feel him up ahead, and his presence tangled with the others, and her teeth ground together as heavy blast doors began to descend across the outer portals. Was that the defense?

Her unholy eyes found Judah Lesan through the narrowing distance. She could feel the panic rolling from him, could practically taste the discombobulated, desperate relief that safety was only a few steps away. There was a Jedi ( Lorn Reingard ) she knew not beckoning him inside.

<<Judah…You ran away.>>​

Her voice slipped directly into his mind. He had no defense…Not even with the familiar sensation of "battle meditation" that might offer the other two protection. This man had been her ward for years. They were lucky he wasn't drooling, drinking solid food from a straw, and defecating into a bag. Her tone was elegant, soft, but overwhelming to the point of catatonia…Pulling him down. Pulling him back, slowing his haste.

<<Why would you run…From me?>>​

A thousand questions of "why" that would scream like a wounded bird, needling his skull and that perfectly fractured psyche. Her attention shifted abruptly toward where Acier Moonbound stood. Even if she couldn't see him well, she could feel him, and that was enough. The pressure around Judah remained, and if he fought her any harder…

She would break his bones.

Not that pain was that much of a deterrent, anymore. It was just harder to run with broken legs.

For several seconds she simply stared at her nephew. Then, with the refinery sealing itself, Srina opened her free arm in a gesture that didn't quite match up with the vitriol she seemed to have for the Jedi caught in her web. Her voice could be heard even at a distance, clear as a bell, silvery and almost human. "…No hug?"

She seemed genuinely offended by the possibility.

"I haven't seen you in ages…And you have a friend. Won't you introduce us?"

Golden eyes passed over him before drifting toward Lorn Reingard . The nearest blast door had all but finished its descent, which caused the ivory-haired woman to sigh once more. Both palms turned toward the refinery, and something dark welled between them. A mass of concussive force and wicked might. "I want to see you, nephew."

The Force struck the blast door with sudden, brutal opposition.

But…That was nothing. What was something to fear? When she looked at Mercy .

"…We must claim this location. Sestra…Break it down. "

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces Popper Echo Implant NPC Units (On Standby) Drake "Vaelcryx" (On Standby)

 

[Seraphina Corvinus]

WEAPONS: None
ALLIES: Daegon Corvinus | ENEMIES: Everyone (Crack in the sidewalk...?)

She had long ago stopped caring about her disability.

Seraphina could not see the color of her dresses, pretty though she was certain they were. She could not watch the sunrise with her husband or know precisely the expression that crossed his face when she said something that made him laugh. There were things she missed, certainly, but the cultured woman had made the decision not to wallow in self-pity.

She was not lacking, less than, just because her sight was gone.

From that point on, life became something worth living. It wasn’t dull and bleak.

Sera wasn’t afraid anymore.

Today?

Blindness was terrifying.

The Crystal Forest had become an endless room with no doors, and every distant explosion made the walls move. Every echo lied.

Seraphina remained crouched beneath the shelter of her own wings with delicate hands pressed over her ears, trembling, despite every attempt to stop. It overwhelmed her to the point that she just wanted to find the nearest rock and tree and crawl inside a safe place and hide. She didn’t know what was happening…But she knew the sound of something wrong.

Why?

Why had this madness returned to her home?

"Sera."

Her head lifted, but the voice she knew so well fractured beyond anything she could follow. The Iego-born woman sniffled, trying to follow the echoes…But it was no use. He was too far away. Or was he right beside her? Behind her? When more words followed, her breath broke. It wasn’t elegant, as expected of nobility, or very dignified. It was the smallest, most pitiable sound imaginable. Her wings slowly unfolded, and she pushed herself from the ground with her hand out. Searching empty air until fingers touched—And she surged toward that warmth.

Her wings pulled away from her body almost too quickly, with iridescent feathers dragging across crystalline roots and branches. Sera practically collided with him, arms winding tightly around his middle, while her face disappeared into his chest. Her wings followed an instant later, sweeping around him, until they vanished behind a trembling curtain of pale opalescence.

“You’re here…”, she repeated, so relieved that her voice came out choked. Her fingers curled in his clothes, and her wings tightened over them. Another distant detonation hit the mountain, and Sera flinched violently. Every time it happened, it felt like it was stealing all of her senses. Blind and deaf…” Everything keeps moving…I couldn’t find my way.”

She’d left the house so she wouldn’t be a burden, but she had a startling feeling that she had made everything worse. Daegon had been forced to stop his important work just to come look for her because she couldn’t find her way home. Her hold loosened, just enough, that her head could tilt toward his voice. “I didn’t...I—I didn’t mean to.”

It was a lame response.

Seraphina lifted one hand, slowly, until searching fingertips found the line of his jaw. The touch was feather-light, mapping a face she already knew by heart. Brow. Cheekbone. Jaw. Only then did the realization begin to settle. Daegon was here, looking for her, while the staff had been rushing and the mountain was shaking. Alarms were screaming through Heaven’s Gate, and something kept exploding, over and over. “Daegon…”

“What is happening?”

There was no accusation in it and zero understanding of armies or politics or why anyone would choose to turn someone else's home into a battlefield. Just a very naïve expression of total bewilderment. Another rolling concussion reached them, quieter this time, and she turned instinctively toward it before remembering that the sound could tell her very little.

"Is something falling?"

Her brows furrowed.

"A-Are the fields all right…? The villages? Are people hurt?”

Worry and fear began to gather in her soft features with frightening speed. It felt like the sky was falling and she couldn’t understand why. Was it an act of some deity that they had accidentally angered? “I can feel something…Bad…Are we…Are we being punished?”

Her voice was so small, even when he suggested they leave. Their lives had been relatively peaceful for a long time now but…There were powers-that-be who might not like their lack of taking a side. They were caught in a rock and a hard place. Side with the Jedi and the Republic at the risk of offending the Sith, or do the same in reverse. Or maybe make some other galactic giant angry…All she wanted was a happy, quiet home.

“Is that what’s happening, Daegon? Punishment?”