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

[Madrona A’Mia]

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Thyferra
Tags: Darth Strosius & Lina Ovmar
Equipment: Here sans armor, satchel of scientific tools
Shambling Vines currently active: 5
Opponents: William Thule & Andromeda Demir

As more light cut through the shadows, the single Sithspawn which had sustained blaster fire suddenly squealed and screeched in pain as light side imbued Force touched its already badly wounded form. The thing writhed and thrashed in its death throes whilst its brethren and their Master remained hidden, spreading out in the shallow water. Their eerie movements were so at home in this environ that their passing created nary a ripple on the surface.

A’Mia was careful to give the combatants she could sense a fairly wide berth, choosing to puppet from a distance for a few tactical moments more. Best to let her companions establish their fighting positions before she decided where to jump back in. With her satchel still clutched close to her decidedly more exotic form, the many limbed neti carefully carved a few samples from the underside of the flora she sheltered beneath. Her mind in many places, she chose one particularly large Sithspawn who’d traveled the farthest from her group and piloted its body as if her own while rote memory allowed her to bottle a few quick samples.

Elsewhere… rapidly reaching vines struck out, quick as a whip, from the water near the Jedi knight. Most of the bulk of the beast remained hidden but three long, thorn covered appendages snared the ankles of two marines, seeking to haul them into the murk of the marshy fields.

 

[Rin Taal]

Objective: 1 on the surface of Thyferra
Allies: THR and their allies
Enemies: Sith and their allies
Tags: Open Tiberius Rath (for evacuation)

The utility passage swallowed the column a little at a time, exchanging the rain and distant flashes of battle for dim emergency lighting, dripping pipes, and the echo of hundreds of footsteps moving through a space never intended to carry so many people at once. Rin remained near the front with Jade, though she refused to let herself become so focused upon the way ahead that she forgot those behind them. Every so often she glanced back, golden eyes following the seemingly endless procession of civilians disappearing into the darkness. Parents carried children too tired or frightened to continue walking on their own. The wounded leaned against strangers who had become companions simply because survival had placed them beside one another. Those capable of carrying supplies had taken bags from those who couldn't, and somewhere farther back, someone had begun quietly reassuring a crying child.

That, more than anything, helped Rin breathe a little easier. They were listening to her, but they were also beginning to look after one another.

The comlink at her shoulder crackled, and Rin's hand immediately closed around it as Tiberius Rath's voice emerged through the interference.

"We have a clear corridor for you now, Rin Taal. I am sending shuttles your way."

Moments later, four shuttles flew out the planet-facing starboard side, escorted by a handful of starfighters.

"New vessel dropping out of hyperspace, Commodore!"

Tiberius' gaze swung to the sensors.

Relief struck hard enough that Rin briefly closed her eyes. She had refused to promise these people something she couldn't give them, and until that moment, all she had truly been able to offer was another road and the hope that it led somewhere better than the one behind them. Now there were ships coming. Not safety yet, because four shuttles still had to descend through a battle, reach the surface, load hundreds of civilians, and climb back through the same dangerous skies, but for the first time since the western shelter had been destroyed, there was something tangible waiting at the end of the path.

"Copy, Grace of Theed. We'll be ready for them." Rin paused, looking toward Jade before lifting the comlink again. "I've got several hundred civilians, including wounded who will need assistance boarding. Send me the coordinates your pilots are using, and I'll have everyone organized before they touch down. Thank you, Tiberius."

The final words were quieter, but no less sincere. She lowered the comlink and released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding before reaching across to touch Jade lightly on the arm. A smile found its way onto Rin's face despite the exhaustion and worry that had settled there during the long evacuation. "Looks like we have our way out." Her gaze moved farther down the tunnel, toward the western exit they had yet to reach. "Now we just have to get everyone there."

They continued onward, and Rin began reorganizing the column as they moved rather than waiting until they reached the surface. Anyone with medical training was asked to identify themselves and remain with the wounded. Families were to stay together, with children kept between adults wherever possible, while those able to move quickly were asked to help anyone struggling rather than race ahead when the exit came into sight. Rin knew what fear could do when rescue suddenly became visible. People who had remained remarkably calm in the face of danger could panic when salvation was only a few dozen meters away, terrified that there wouldn't be enough room for them. She wanted that possibility extinguished before the first shuttle ever appeared.

"Listen to me," she called when they reached a wider maintenance junction, allowing her voice to carry through the passage while those farther back repeated her words down the line. "We have four evacuation shuttles coming for us. That means nobody needs to rush when we reach them. Wounded and children board first, then everyone else. Families stay together. If the first shuttle fills before you reach it, there are three more behind it. Nobody gets left because somebody else was faster."

That last promise carried considerably more certainty than the ones she had been able to make earlier, and Rin saw its effect almost immediately. Shoulders eased. A few people embraced. Someone farther back began crying, though the sound carried relief rather than terror this time, and Rin found herself swallowing against an answering emotion. She understood it. These people had watched their city come apart around them, had abandoned homes without knowing whether anything would remain when they returned, and had followed a complete stranger underground because she told them there was a way through. Now, at last, she could tell them that someone was coming to carry them away from all of it.

The western exit eventually appeared ahead, a gray rectangle of storm light interrupting the darkness. Rin slowed before reaching it and raised a hand, stopping the people immediately behind her rather than allowing relief to carry them straight into the open. The route might have been cleared for the shuttles, but that did not mean every street between the tunnel and the extraction point had magically become harmless. She moved closer to the opening, listening before looking, pointed ears separating the sounds of rainfall and distant battle from anything nearer while the Force stretched carefully ahead of her.

Only when nothing immediately warned her away did she glance toward Jade.

"I'd rather not discover what your grandfather would say if I got you shot after he specifically put you with me." The warmth beneath the teasing made it clear that Rin's concern had little to do with explaining herself to Muad. "Let's make sure our welcome party hasn't attracted anyone else before we bring several hundred people into the street."

Rin stepped into the rain again, the sudden cold washing over skin that had begun to warm underground. She pulled the comlink free as soon as the coordinates from the Grace of Theed arrived, studying the location before orienting herself against the surrounding streets. It wasn't far. More importantly, the route didn't require doubling back toward the destroyed shelter or crossing the worst of the fighting they had heard while underground. Tiberius had given them exactly what she had asked for: somewhere she could realistically get these people.

She keyed the evacuation frequency once more.

"Grace of Theed, coordinates received. We're coming out of the western utility access now and moving toward the extraction point. Tell your pilots they'll have wounded coming aboard first. I'll keep the landing area as organized as I can from down here."

The transmission ended, and Rin looked upward through the rain. She couldn't see the four shuttles yet, only the broken clouds and intermittent flashes from a battle being fought far above her reach. Somewhere beyond them was Tiberius aboard the Grace of Theed, sending ships toward people he had never met because she had asked for help. Somewhere else in the city was Muad, his presence still there within the dyad, distant but unmistakable. Rin allowed herself the smallest touch across that connection, not enough to distract him from whatever he faced, merely warmth carrying a simple reassurance that she was still there.

Then she returned her attention to the people who needed her here.

The extraction point was a broad civic plaza several streets beyond the tunnel, open enough for incoming shuttles to land without forcing their pilots to fly between towers. By the time the first civilians began to reach it, Rin was already moving among them, forming loose groups rather than allowing everyone to gather into one frightened mass. The wounded were brought toward the front beneath whatever shelter remained along the plaza's edge. Children stayed with their families, and those who had helped others through the tunnels remained close in case they were needed again. Jade's presence gave Rin something she could never have supplied on her own: an armored figure who could watch the approaches while Rin concentrated upon the people.

Then she heard it.

At first the sound was almost lost beneath the rain, but Rin's ears caught the distant whine of engines before most of the refugees noticed anything. Her head lifted sharply, wet hair sliding back from one pointed ear as she searched the gray sky. A heartbeat later, shapes began resolving through the clouds.

One. Then another. And two more behind them.

Four shuttles descended toward the plaza beneath the protection of starfighters, and the reaction around Rin was immediate. Voices rose. Children pointed toward the sky. People who had been sitting pushed themselves upright, while others began moving forward instinctively as the sight of escape finally made everything Tiberius had promised real.

Rin turned toward them before excitement could become a stampede, raising both hands as she stepped into their path.

"Easy! They're here, and they're not leaving without us." Her voice carried above the growing roar of engines, firm enough to halt the first movement without robbing the moment of its hope. "Remember what I told you. Wounded and children first. Help each other, stay with your families, and give the crews room to work. We've made it this far together. We're finishing it the same way."

Wind from the descending craft tore across the plaza, whipping Rin's soaked hair behind her and sending her equally wet tail streaming with it as the first shuttle settled toward the ground. For the first time in what felt like hours, she smiled without having to manufacture the expression for someone else's benefit.

They weren't safe yet.

But the road she had promised them finally had an ending in sight.

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila watched as scarlet light hung motionless in the air, close enough that she could see each captured shot trembling against the pressure surrounding it. The bunker filling with their heat and the sharp stink of ionised dust. For one absurd moment, she almost had to admit; they looked almost beautiful.

Then the Sith moved.

Bastila felt the warning through the Force an instant before the hooded warrior launched herself into the darkness. Bastila did not follow them with the blaster, there was no time, instead her attention snapped back to the bolts still suspended between them, because they had begun to turn.

“Oh, sh…” The pressure vanished so suddenly it was almost painful and Bastila threw herself aside as the captured fire came screaming back across the bunker. One bolt passed through the space her head had occupied. Another struck the plate across her shoulder and burst against the personal shield beneath it, flooding her vision with blue-white light. The impact spun her half around and drove her against a nearby support where she hit painfully against her side.

Her lightsaber however was in her hand before the pain reached her. The resulting Violet light erupted across the gloom and Bastila caught the next bolt close to the emitter, sending it into the ceiling in a shower of molten durasteel, then twisted beneath another that burned through the loose strands of hair beside her face.

Across the bunker, crimson ignited and Bastila realised that perhaps they had never been the ones setting the trap all along.

Bastila heard the contempt thrown towards Brandyn. Heard the emotion being reduced to a scrape against the words; the witch.

Beneath her rebreather, Bastila’s jaw tightened in realisation; this was about Brandyn. Whatever history existed between them had filled the bunker until Bastila seemed little more than an inconvenient witness to it. The Sith spoke to him, measured him, chastised him. Even while her attention settled upon Bastila, it carried the unmistakable sense that she was merely another instrument with which Brandyn might be wounded.

The Sith crossed the remaining distance with frightening speed, crimson sweeping right to left towards the nose of Bastila’s blaster and in a reactionary motion Bastila released it.

The red blade cut through the weapon as it fell, shearing the barrel away in a burst of sparks rather than taking Bastila’s fingers with it. The ruined pistol struck the floor between them, a space that Bastila was already closing the gap within. She stepped inside the completion of the sweep, bringing her violet blade up one-handed towards the weapon arm, not attempting to meet the Sith’s strength directly but instead crowding the space in which the longer strike had been made. Her armoured shoulder followed behind it, driving forwards in an attempt to crash bodily into her before she could recover her guard.

There was nothing elegant about it and that was the point. For all her high class, for all her standing Bastila didn’t fight like a Jedi. She fought like a soldier. It was crude, but it was effective.

“Do you two need a moment?” Bastila asked through the mask, breathless but unmistakably irritated. “Because I don’t know if you noticed but there is a war outside.” Another detonation rolled through the bunker. The blast doors shuddered in their frame and the ruined supports groaned overhead. Dust descended around the clashing light in thick curtains.

Bastila shifted her grip, keeping her violet blade between herself and the crimson glow. Sweat stung her eyes. The shield generator against her ribs flickered as it struggled to recover from the earlier impact.

Then three clipped tones sounded inside Bastila’s receiver. The priority channel again. This time a voice forced its way through the interference, there was no recognition of who, as it was almost too fragmented to understand; but Bastila caught two words before static consumed it.

Relief fleet.

Her pulse jumped and her mind instantly went to the other Vanguard forces on the planet.

The High Republic had arrived.

Which meant that they had less time than any of them realised.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Brandyn Sal-Soren Velda Nar-Donna EQUIPMENT:

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[Lorn Reingard]

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

Reaching out with the Force, Lorn pulled the fallen blaster into his palm, his mind racing against the ticking clock. Defeating three trained Sith assassins would take precious time, time during which the captured Zeltron would be dragged away and interrogated. Allowing her to reveal the locations of D'Qar or the Vanguard's fragile operational network would doom everything they had built. The Republic and the Jedi needed to be warned about the mass offensive sweeping toward Ukatis, Thyferra, and Bassadro. Protecting those secret positions took absolute priority over a single life.

Lorn raised the weapon and aimed directly at the assassin grappling with the informant. Adjusting his grip in a split-second calculation, he pulled the trigger. The high-powered plasma bolt ripped through the air, burning past the Sith's shoulder and driving through the Zeltron's chest. Her body went limp instantly in the assassin's steel grip, the dangerous intelligence dying with her before it could compromise their survival.

"Run!" Lorn demanded of Acier, shoving his comrade toward the rear exit.

Igniting his lightsaber to sweep aside the immediate retaliation of the startled Sith, Lorn disengaged from the ruined shop. Both Vanguard members bolted into the dark labyrinth of Ghorman's lower alleys, racing toward their ship to carry the dire warning to the Republic before the shadows swallowed them whole.

—-

"What?" Lorn blurted, his eyes darting between Acier and the two incoming Sith.

A living Mand'alor for a brother and a Sith Empress for an aunt made the young man far more complicated than Lorn had known.

The entire confrontation felt less like a tactical invasion and more like a twisted family reunion. Listening to the dark history thrown back and forth across the threshold, Lorn tracked the web of grudge and trauma linking everyone in the room. The chaos reached its peak when the bruised survivor ignited a crimson lightsaber, muttering in confusion before his expression twisted into pure, unadulterated hatred. Whatever had been done to the stranger's mind, the sight of the red blade made one thing clear: this fight had become deeply personal for everyone involved.

Fortunately, the Republic had prepared for chaos. The refinery workers had been evacuated hours ago, and local security forces were holding lines across the sector with a desperation Lorn respected. The people of Thyferra were fighting fiercely for their home, leaving Lorn and Acier with one clear objective: draw these Sith deep into the kill zone and trap them like rodents. He only hoped Acier wouldn't hesitate when the time came to trigger the trap.

When the disoriented stranger snapped and lunged blindly at the ivory-haired Empress, Lorn saw his opening.

Stepping forward with trained precision, Lorn ignited his golden lightsaber and vaulted off a fallen piece of blast door. He drove his blade straight toward Mercy's torso, targeting the thick central plate of her armor. Even if she couldn't stop his strike and the heavy plating absorbed the heat, the sheer kinetic weight of a Jedi Guardian's thrust would force her off balance, opening a critical gap for Acier to drive the attack home.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn saw it, understood what Velda had done, and raised one hand almost irritably. The Force caught the first blaster bolt and slapped it aside into the wall. The second and third followed with a swipe of his blade — that he did not even recall drawing.

The laser bolts were mere insects. Bright, angry things buzzing around him while Bastila was being hit.

The flare of her armour turned the bunker blue-white for an instant. Brandyn watched his youngest sister spin into the support, watched Velda descend upon her with blade in hand, and something inside him simply ceased pretending that any of this was under control.

His parents were gone. Cybelle was slipping away from him. Gianna had been stolen before he could even know her. Every day seemed to strip another piece from the man he had once been, leaving behind someone he increasingly struggled to recognise.

And now Velda was going to take Bastila too. His baby sister.

Velda's taunt about Meya barely registered. The embarrassment of Bastila hearing about that connection should have mattered. It would matter later, perhaps. Right now there was only anger.

Brandyn started towards them. He did not run. He stalked as a lion would its wounded prey.

Bastila released her blaster before Velda's crimson blade could take her hand with it, then drove herself inside the Sith's reach. Brandyn saw violet and crimson collide, heard Bastila's irritated question about whether they needed a moment, and felt the last of his restraint peel away.

He had spent months looking elsewhere for strength. Briana. Meya. The Jedi. Anyone who might possess enough power to make him whole again. He had never needed to look very far. Rage was astonishingly easy.

Brandyn thrust out his hand and seized Velda through the Force. There was none of his usual restraint, no attempt at finesse or controlled separation. His fingers clenched as though physically wrapping around her, and he ripped backward with everything that had been festering beneath the surface.

His intent was simple. Tear her away from Bastila. Throw her across the bunker.

"YOU DON'T GET TO TAKE HER TOO!" The words ripped from his throat as he hurled Velda towards the far wall.

For a moment afterwards Brandyn remained where he was, hand still extended, breathing hard beneath the unfamiliar armour.

The darkness he had been so afraid of borrowing from someone else had never been the real danger. He had plenty of his own.

Bastila Sal-Soren Velda Nar-Donna
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[Darth Tormenta]

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The Ash Dragons moved as a well oiled machine. They were strike groups, fireteams, small quick reaction forces, not line soldiers. More importantly, several of them carried target designators, and as they spread out, forcing the enemy to divide it's attention, several of those target designations were filtering in. Coordinates marked for the eight Zafiroa Bombers that were coming in low and slow, under much of the AA that might be able to hit them. It wasn't enough to save all of them, first one, then two, then three detonated or were forced to abandon the vector. Of the five that kept the course, emerging from the smoke with the charactersitic whine of their triple ion engines. Three of them split off, dropping the energy bomblets they preferred for their replenishable payload. The other two though were the main party. One fired a pair of concussion missiles to smash open the fortifications blocking the advance of the pirates, and the other followed it up with a pair of ion torpedos to shut down as many enemy systems near the breach as possible.

Tormenta heard the orders from her second through her commlink, even as her second blade snapped to life to catch Twin Verdict even as Khamesi stepped to the side with a smoothness that defied her sheer size. Years of practice honed her body, and many of the martial arts she practiced, mastered to an extent greater than her blade, were about redirecting force. Despite her size, most of the time she did not overwhelm her opponents with pure force. Of course, she could. She had ripped blast doors apart with her barehands, shatterpoints helped with that of course, but she could hardly claim to have mastered the ability. There were few teachers of a technique one needed to be born with, fewer still among the Sith, and none among them she could trust.

She let most of his force carry him forward as she slid to his side. It wouldn't take a master to tell she favored her left side, always had, even with the cybernetic arm she now bore.

"There is nothing on this world that can make a terrible day for me. Win, lose, as long as I live I'll walk away with a profit. Bioweapons? I hate them, I'd relsih you destroying as much as you can. Chemical weapons? Almost as bad."

She paused as her blade came in for another series of strikes, quicker, more finesse than power. She didn't need to win this fight, just delay this Knight long enough. Not that she wasn't trying, but she was going to savor this opponent long as she could.

"Payload swapped mistress, hazmat team is destroying the virus samples."

That brought a smile to Tormenta's face, she could still advance the Sith strategic goals, but she was going to do it her way. Instead of a bioweapon, her heavy troops were now transporting a large Ion Bomb that would disable a large area of the enemies fortifications, tactical net, and communications. It would also give her pirates a perfect opening to gather as much military equipment as possible and get away, she had a citadel to finish.

She didn't bother with repairing the damaged ice, the supercooled air would eventually fill in the gaps, and that just meant that the next time he lost his footing, it would be more random. Since he wanted to get inside her reach, she played a bit more defensively, keeping her strikes quick and precise, more about redirecting the energy of his movements and going for small nicks or close calls than for a single big strike to end the fight.

"Besides. I know perfectly well neither Jedi nor Sith are doomed. The force will keep us coming at each other time and again, as long as sapient life is in this galaxy, we'll find a way back to fighting each other."

Kadeon Virell

 

[Tobias Dib]

Allies: Sith Order
Enemies: Everyone else
Tags: Connel Vanagor , "Ariel" , Seren Gwyn , Aiden Porte , OPEN

On the view screens, the armored giant watched as bulkheads closed in some sectors while rising in others. It seemed the battle to control the industrial park was merely one of many issues growing within the foothold he was now trying to hold. Firewalls surrounded files, control of some systems was now compromised, another two reports of sithspawn came in, and new security protocols were engaged.

Meanwhile, along the perimeter, enemy forces pushed and tested the defenses arrayed around and within the industrial park. Officers checked in with field reps and casualty reports. Currently, the lines were holding. Nemesis' defenders held, though for how long remained to be seen. Rockets and lobbed grenades fell from the upper stories to discombobulate the enemy and try to create a cushion of space around the park. At the same time, snipers fired into the opposing forces, aiming at commanders and officers. Any chaos they could sow would give them a little more time.

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Trask hunted from the shadows. It was incredibly easy to slip from darkness to darkness as he worked through the facility. When he found a bulkhead sealing a path, he merely backtracked and found another way through each section. He had already met several pockets of the enemy. It was amazing what Jedi robes and a lightsaber could do to affirm your identity. Each time he found himself welcomed into their midst, at the center. And every time he killed them all before they realized he was a traitor. Trask now hunted his next target of opportunity. Before the night was done, he planned on adding several more lightsabers to his growing collection.

Communication relayed a garbled transmission from @Taeli Raff reporting a Force anomaly aboard the Grace of Theed. Moments later, the Dread Wolf, Gerwald Lechner , relayed the information via the localized Sith Order frequency. "If the Force disappears, the operation does not." Nemesis and his command shared the sentiment. One that activated the next threat for Thyferra.

From the capital ships that had dropped from the Blackwall, a klaxon sounded in hangers. Four squadrons flew from their bays and aimed for the planet as formations shifted. A squadron of fighters escorted a flight of bombers, a piece. Three distinct patterns as they accelerated into orbit, ships heading toward their ordered targets. The dozen Caldoth-Class Tactical Bombers were divided between the three Sith interceptor squadrons. One for the capital. The second toward the industrial park and bacta facilities. The third toward the battlefront. Payloads were ready should the order be given from Nemesis. Yet, for now, their orders were only to arrive at their target locations.

In the towers, the slicers and hackers fed the misinformation as the other technicians tried to backtrace exactly where the lockets of resistance were. The industrial park was large, but so was their presence, deep in the park and bacta storage facilities as well as product management. Near the edges of the park, still protected from the violence of outside, more containers were filled and loaded upon even more ships. As the Dread Wolf said, the operation continued at least until the timer reached zero.

3.21.50
3.21.49
3.21.48

"Some of the data is being deleted." The trooper working behind the terminal wasn't aware he had muttered aloud. Regardless, the armored giant's presence was felt behind him as he redoubled his efforts. More mumblings escaped. "Fine, you wanna play that game, how about we add a shifter to the deck." At the words "shifter", half a dozen troopers glanced up before commencing with a preestablished contingency plan. More viruses. These were cyber viruses meant to replicate and spread throughout the systems, deleting key pieces of commands and prompts while adding new ones. Each line of code was now meant to become compromised as the replication continued.

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Meanwhile at the prison, guards, off-duty military personnel, first responders who were cut off, and active-duty law enforcement gathered in the giant hangar bays attached to the massive institution. The prison warden spoke over the intercom, instantly quieting the murmuring of the gathered body. "Jedi Troigs is going to break down the plan. We'll be divided into groups, given our objectives, and then we will armor up, get our weapons, and then collect any other supplies we will need." The warden handed over the mic to the intercom. "We are all in this together. Remember that first of all. This is your home. Not neighborhoods. We aren't divided by job descriptions. Or income brackets. It's not about whom you are related to or whom you voted for in the last election. This is about your home. Thyferra." He paused before repeating the word. "Thyferra." Slowly, the word traveled through the crowd, each person swept up in the unity of their identity. They were all children of Thyferra. Soon the sound reverberated in the hangars and drowned out everything as they became one.

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"Enemy reinforcements." The statement escaped the giant dryly. It almost felt as though things were beginning to spin too quickly for him to react. First the attack on his outposts. Then the loss of many under his command. Every choice he made was given deliberately and logically, as far as he was concerned. But at every front it seemed he was being thwarted. What seemed like benign defeats echoed inside him; from the outside, he appeared unflappable. Unreadable. Unemotional. But internally, he felt the fractures as things moved beyond his reach. Only the fierce, fervent belief his cause was just grounded him amidst the storm of uncertainty. The moment of weakness ended as he was, once again, reaffirmed in his role against the enemy who sought to destroy him. They would try. And they would fail.

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Deep within the industrial park, Trask had found a subfloor not mentioned in the schematics. He commed the towers requesting backup with explosives. Whatever was there was deemed important enough not to be in the plans. Which meant the work and personnel were important. Soon the backup would arrive, and they would find out what exactly was so precious. As he waited, he rummaged over the latest corpses he had tricked and then killed. Nothing much. But then one of their comms chirped, and he retrieved the device and listened to the enemy chatter. Something about a new hope entering the system: Trask wasn't worried; the Empire always strikes back. It didn't matter if there was a return of the Jedi because the Sith wasn't going anywhere.

But more traffic flowed from the communication device. They were talking about the fog and viruses like it was some phantom menace. Yet they weren't concerned, because with the arrival of their own reinforcements, the attack of the clones would soon commence. They were fools. Any attacks would only spur on the revenge of the Sith.

Then the facility shuddered as more vessels departed. Some were under the control of Thyferra and the High Republic. Some were under Sith command, using the launches to mingle with the departures for cover. As Trask scanned the traffic on the enemy communicator and flipped the hologram on his vambrace to life, showing multiple ships evacuating, he sent a message to his Lord Liege for instructions. Nemesis responded quickly. "Yes, milord." Trask switched to a Sith frequency and began speaking to the Sith Order forces in orbit.

"Attention. Bacta haulers are escaping orbit. Interspersed among them are refugees and evacuated civilians. Some of which may have been … compromised. Here are their exit vectors. Also, enemy comms have revealed assistance has arrived in the form of help coming from space. Be on the lookout. This message has been brought to you by Lord Nemesis."

Trask smirked at the little flair at the end. There was no worry if the Grace of Theed above managed to extend the Force negation bubble to the planet below. They would continue their operations. And eventually the Force awakens once the ship is destroyed. It mattered little. Every single lightsider would die, down to the last Jedi. There would be no hope. This wasn't like the old holovid biographical films from a thousand years ago. There would be no rise of a Skywalker; that line had died out long ago. He checked the chrono on his wrist and watched the timer, whose purpose even he didn't know.

3.13.33
3.13.32
3.13.31

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The arrow came without warning. That, more than anything, told the Shadow Hand who had loosed it. There was no shouted challenge before the shot, no theatrical declaration cast across the battlefield, no swelling of presence meant to announce an approaching foe. The projectile simply emerged from the burning haze with murderous precision, cutting through cinder and smoke at a trajectory chosen by someone who understood exactly where death lived upon an armored body. It struck Him high in the shoulder. The impact sounded like a hammer crashing against an anvil. Qâzjiin'vraal hardened an instant too late. The armor-piercing head punched through the outer layers of alchemized plate near the articulation of His pauldron, cracked through the living black sinew beneath, and buried itself deep enough to wrench the colossal Dark Lord half a step sideways. His immense boot gouged a furrow through the scorched earth as the force of the strike traveled through Him. Black-red blood welled around the shaft and ran in slow streams across the black metal of His warplate.

For the first time since Darth Prazutis had stepped upon Thyferra, the advance around Him hesitated.

The Blackblade Guard reacted immediately. Weapons snapped upward in perfect unison. Not ordinary soldiers. Never ordinary soldiers. The black-armored giants surrounding the Shadow Hand moved with the unnatural speed of predators bred and remade for war, genetically and cybernetically enhanced bodies sealed beneath towering suits of powered battleplate. These were the same executioners who had crossed burning worlds beneath the banners of the Kainate, the same legions that had marched through the great purges of the Eternal Father and His Shadow Hand, the same black hosts that had broken armies, exterminated peoples, and carried genocide as a deliberate instrument of statecraft. Targeting systems painted Allyson Locke. Heavy weapons rotated. A dozen lines of fire could have converged upon her in an instant. Then Prazutis raised one hand.

"Hold." One word, and every weapon stopped. The battlefield didn't. Mornskarr gunships tore overhead through curtains of smoke, their cannons hammering defensive lines beyond the refinery district. Xarul starfighters screamed after fleeing interceptors while formations of Nyctophage drones moved through the poisoned skies like carrion birds made of shadow and steel. Far above it all, barely visible through the accumulated pall of ash and burning atmosphere, the immense silhouette of the Eternal Rule eclipsed a portion of the heavens. Another distant bombardment struck. The horizon flashed white. A heartbeat later the earth beneath them shuddered.

Prazutis paid it no attention, His helm turned slowly toward Allyson. The Abyss that Walks had found its Ghost. For several seconds He simply looked at her. Then one immense gauntlet closed around the arrow protruding from His shoulder, and He pulled. The barbed head resisted. Living sinew stretched with it. For one ugly instant the damaged section of Qâzjiin'vraal opened more like wounded flesh than armor, revealing pulsing darkness beneath the plate before the arrow tore free in His hand with a wet metallic sound. Blood ran freely down the black armor. Prazutis examined the projectile. There was no anger in His posture. That somehow made it worse. "Good shot." The words rolled from Xûl-Karzaan layered beneath whispers that were not entirely His own. He released the arrow, letting it strike the dirt between them. Already the damaged armor writhed around the wound, black sinews slowly drawing inward beneath broken plate as the living warplate began the patient work of rebuilding itself. Blood still marked his mending tissue, and He seemed almost pleased by that.

Allyson's voice cut through the thunder of war.

"You were told to leave her alone."

The battlefield seemed to contract around those words. Behind the Shadow Hand, Blackblade Guardsmen continued their advance without Him. Massive silhouettes pushed through the smoke in disciplined fireteams, heavy rifles roaring in controlled bursts as they drove toward the refinery defenses. One seized a wounded defender bodily and hurled them from a shattered barricade before advancing through the position. Another squad disappeared beneath incoming fire only to emerge through the cloud moments later, armor scorched, formation unbroken. Prazutis remained where He stood, watching her. Then she spoke again. "She was supposed to never find out!" Silence of a sorts followed. Thyferra had forgotten what true silence was. Artillery thundered across distant fields, while starfighters screamed overhead. Somewhere nearby, ammunition cooked off inside a burning armored vehicle and sent a plume of sparks into the poisoned sky. Men screamed. Creatures howled into the skies. Things that had once been men screamed. Yet between the two there was silence. Finally, Darth Prazutis spoke.

"No." The answer was quiet. Absolute. "You wanted her never to find out. That was never our bargain." The words came without mockery, without raised voice, without satisfaction. Merely fact. "You gave Me a name. You gave Me Odessen. You gave Me the Shadows. In return, you demanded that the Kainate ensure Odessen remained untouched and that no harm came to Taiia Mataan." His massive frame straightened completely. "Odessen still stands." A blast rolled across the horizon behind Him. "They remain protected." Another. "Taiia lives." The runes crawling across Xûl-Karzaan smoldered brighter. "I kept My word." Her anger poured through the Force. Prazutis could taste it. Ka'ra'nazat could taste it. The Abyssal Heart pulsed against His chest, and every furious beat of Allyson's heart, every memory screaming through her, every betrayal and fear and unbearable violation of the sanctuary she had constructed around one single person became another flavor drifting through the feast of emotion surrounding the Dark Lord. "You did not purchase her ignorance." The words struck harder than any shout could have.

"I never promised to preserve your lie." Prazutis stepped forward, one colossal foot descending beside the discarded arrow. "I did not threaten her. I did not touch her. I did not burn her home. I did not put a blade to her throat. I did not drag you before her in chains and force confession from your mouth." His helm lowered slightly toward Allyson. "I drank her tea." There was something grotesque in the mundanity of it. "We spoke." The Black Maw whispered with the voices of the dead. "And I never once spoke your name." That was the knife. Prazutis let it enter slowly. "She found you anyway." The inferno surrounding them reflected across the crimson seams of His armor. "Do you understand why that angers you so much? You are not furious because I lied to her, Allyson." A pause. "You are furious because I didn't need to."

Above them, the heavens opened again.

A barrage from the Kainate fleet descended through the cloud deck several kilometers away, multiple incandescent spears walking methodically across a fortified ridge that had continued directing anti-aircraft fire toward the descending Sith formations. The first impact swallowed an emplacement. The second tore open the ridgeline. The third struck somewhere behind it. Then the entire horizon rose. Earth, permacrete, armor, bodies, and fire erupted upward in an expanding wall of ruin. The pressure wave arrived seconds later, hammering across the refinery plains hard enough to send loose debris tumbling between them. Prazutis didn't turn to look. He had ordered it before she arrived. The destruction had simply taken time to reach them. Far above, the Eternal Rule continued its work. The great Qoritwai-class battlecruiser held position like an executioner's axe suspended over Thyferra. Its ventral Chirikyât batteries adjusted beneath the hull while Salamund turbolasers and supporting Sutta and Eschaton vessels stitched the planet below with successive waves of fire. Divine Eyes fed the armada an endless stream of targets. Defensive concentrations. Reinforcement columns. Hardened command sites. Anti-orbital positions. Garrisons attempting to reform beyond the initial landing zones.

One by one they became coordinates. One by one the coordinates disappeared. Prazutis' voice entered the command net.

"Shadow Armada. Continue the prosecution." Static hissed beneath His words. Acknowledgments flooded back. His gaze never left Allyson. "Break their reserves. Collapse every position capable of contesting our advance." A pause. "And leave the refineries standing. Make the rest bleed, make the earth quake with agony." That distinction had always mattered. Conquest was not the same as waste. Thyferra's people could burn. Its defenses could burn. Its fields already burned. But machinery capable of producing bacta beneath Sith ownership had value. Behind His eyes, tactical reports moved in endless procession. The infection was loose. Water networks were compromised. Utilities that had once sustained the population had become avenues of terror. Infected civilians moved where soldiers could not, spreading panic deeper into regions untouched by the opening bombardments. Places believed safely behind the front were discovering that the front no longer existed. The wounded brought horror into shelters. Emergency centers became killing grounds. Roads filled with those attempting to flee one catastrophe only to carry another with them.

Even the battlefield itself had become treacherous. Every shattered position carried the possibility of another invisible contamination zone. Every bombardment risked opening something worse beneath the soil. Elsewhere, intrusion specialists were gutting Thyferra's financial architecture while war consumed its physical body. Accounts were being emptied. Assets displaced beyond recovery. Institutions that might have funded reconstruction tomorrow were being strangled today. The Sith were not merely killing Thyferra. They were attacking its ability to understand what was happening to it. Water could no longer be trusted. Air could no longer be trusted. Hospitals could no longer be trusted. The frightened could no longer trust those fleeing beside them.

The battlefield had escaped geography, and that was the point. A new transmission rolled across the tactical feed, accompanied by a name, Gerwald Lechner. The Dark Lord's attention lingered upon it for only a moment. The sensation that followed was almost nostalgic. Pain. An echo of something ancient. A younger wolf raging. Flesh torn apart. Bones broken. Skin flayed. A body dragged to the boundary between life and death before being denied the mercy of crossing it. Gerwald had once believed pain was something inflicted upon him. Prazutis had tried to teach him otherwise. Pain was revelation. Pain stripped away comfort, delusion, vanity, and civilized restraint until nothing remained except whatever truth had been strong enough to survive.

The Wolf had died, and the Dread Wolf was born, and now Thyferra screamed beneath monsters of His own making. A dark chuckle rolled quietly through Xûl-Karzaan. "So. The Wolf remembers." The words flowed, addressed to no one and everyone. Prazutis watched reports from Lechner's theater bleed across the corner of His vision.

"All those years. All that hatred." A terrible satisfaction settled beneath the words. "And at last he understands the lesson." His gaze turned back toward Allyson. Another explosion shook the horizon. Prazutis moved. Not toward Allyson. Toward the defensive position beyond her. A company of Thyferran defenders had reorganized among the ruins of a collapsed logistics structure, portable shields overlapping across the shattered approach while emplaced cannons tried desperately to establish lanes against the advancing Blackblade Guard. The Shadow Hand extended His arm. His fingers opened, and the Dark Side of the Force answered.

The world groaned and the very ground moved. A fracture ripped across the battlefield beneath the defenders with a sound like the planet's bones breaking. Duracrete buckled upward. Defensive barricades pitched sideways. One emplacement disappeared behind a sudden upheaval of earth while another listed as the foundation beneath it tore free. Prazutis closed His fist. The entire position convulsed. A reinforced defensive tower tore loose from its foundation. For one impossible moment the structure hung suspended above the battlefield, hundreds of tons of durasteel and reinforced stone trembling within an invisible grasp. Then Prazutis turned His wrist. The tower moved. Not downward, but sideways. It crossed the battlefield like something hurled by a god. The structure smashed into the adjacent defense line with catastrophic force, collapsing gun emplacements beneath it and disappearing into an eruption of dust, flame, sparks, and pulverized debris.

Then the Dark Lord simply lowered His hand. As though none of it had required effort. As though devastation on that scale had been no more troublesome than clearing debris from a path. The Blackblade Guard continued forward. They had seen Him do worse. Some of them had helped.

Mandalore.

The Jedi Purges.

Worlds whose histories had been reduced to casualty reports beneath the direction of the Eternal Father and the Shadow Hand. They had learned long ago that when Darth Prazutis walked at their head, the impossible became merely another tactical condition. He turned back toward Allyson. There was blood on His armor from her arrow. Smoke curled around Him. Behind His colossal silhouette, an entire defensive sector was dying. And still His attention settled upon her as though she were the most important thing upon Thyferra.

"You see monsters everywhere today." The Abyssal Heart pulsed. "But look at yourself." His molten gaze burned invisibly behind Xûl-Karzaan. "You crossed a battlefield falling apart beneath plague and bombardment because I spoke to your wife. You fired before your feet touched the ground. Not for any cause." The whispers beneath His voice became softer. "Taiia."

One name.

That was all.

"There you are. I see you now."

The darkness around Prazutis thickened. Ka'ra'nazat drank greedily from the battlefield, from panic spreading through broken formations, from the dying, from those becoming things they did not understand, from soldiers staring upward as another Sith bombardment descended, from every terrified soul realizing that the stories about the Kainate had never been exaggerations. Qâzjiin'vraal responded. Crimson runes brightened across His body. The cloak trailing behind Him began moving despite the absence of wind. Shadows stretched toward the Dark Lord from broken vehicles and ruined structures, giving the grotesque impression that the battlefield itself was leaning in His direction.

Fear gathered, and Prazutis drank. "You hate Me for what I did." He lifted one hand slowly. "Good." The word landed with unmistakable satisfaction. The pressure began building across the ground between them. Not an attack yet. A warning. The earth trembled. Fragments of broken durasteel lifted from the earth, and ash began circling His enormous frame. "You made your choice. You stepped out from the light, and into the dark when your blade was driven into their spines." The debris rose higher. The world around His raised hand began to distort. Stone cracked. Ash reversed direction. Broken pieces of Thyferra's battlefield gathered into a widening orbit around the Shadow Hand.

Then Prazutis struck.

His palm drove forward and the Force erupted from Him. Not the celestial annihilation He had unleashed from orbit. This was narrower. Personal. A colossal telekinetic wave detonated outward across the ground toward Allyson, ripping shattered earth, vehicle debris, burning wreckage, and fractured slabs of duracrete into its passage. The battlefield peeled upward before it, an advancing wall of pressure and ruin meant to smash through everything in its path and force the legendary Shadow to move, answer, survive. Prazutis did not presume that it would strike her. He knew better. That was why He had sent it. He wanted to see what Allyson Locke did when the Dark Lord stopped speaking. The instant the wave left His hand, Xûl Qarnak came free. The massive weapon looked absurd even for a lightsaber. Its hilt filled His fist like the grip of an executioner's greatsword, black metal carved in ancient runes that awakened one after another beneath His touch.

Ignition followed.

VRAAAAAAAAM.

Blackened bloodfire erupted into existence, the blade growling to the void. A deep, predatory vibration rolled across the battlefield, felt through the ribs as much as heard through the ears. Crimson burned around a core so dark it seemed less illuminated than absent, a wound cut into reality and given the shape of a sword. Prazutis held the enormous blade low at His side. Far beyond Him Thyferra's poisoned population descended deeper into catastrophe. Ahead of Him stood the greatest Jedi Shadow in modern history, a woman who had once been nearly impossible to find, a woman who had sold an entire hidden world to preserve one life, a woman now burning with exactly the emotion every Jedi creed had once taught her to master. The Dark Lord's helm inclined toward her.

"Come, Allyson." Xûl Qarnak dragged slowly through the earth beside Him, carving a glowing trench through Thyferran soil.

"Strike me down."

Allyson Locke | Taiia Locke | Gerwald Lechner​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

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

Fire sparked in Sibylla's eyes in incredulous frustration when Quinn pushed her away, but as Quinn took a comm message, and that frustration turned to alarm when Sibylla saw one of her guards knocked unconscious by the attack and she stumbled over to check on him. Her fingers found his throat, and a pulse was there. Relief washed her face.

He's still alive.

Quinn said that, yes, she had power in the Sith and would be Empress one day, and that she had wondered if Sibylla might be able to help with the contracts, but this level of reckless destruction was not what Quinn had wanted. How others thought they knew better and acted like the very wildfires spreading across precious fields.

Sibylla spared a glance at Quinn to quickly follow up, "You may not have wanted this, but how can anyone see the Sith Empire differently if this is how worlds see it move? How do you think the galaxy views them when there is this?!" She gestured around her, to the destruction and lack of consideration for how this was going to affect millions of Vratix and other civilians, scientists, and individuals who called this home.

Just as Sibylla turned to check on the guard, Quinn's voice seemed to hiss out a question. It took her a moment to even realize it was for her. Sibylla turned to stare at Quinn, her hazel eyes shifting from disbelief to outright confusion.

"Outbound Flight? What are you talking about?" She exclaimed in a befuddled tone. Whatever Quinn expected her to reveal from that mission, Sibylla simply did not. She was the Voice of Naboo; her duties were limited to what happened on Naboo — her role in the Senate and Interim Queen was over. All she knew from that mission was that the Republic had spent the better part of a year pouring resources into defenses, commissioning fleets, armies, fortifications, and whatever classified projects Republic Command deemed necessary, and the Outbound Fleet was how they would search for and acquire those resources. There were entire sections of those appropriations that Sibylla would never see simply because she had no longer had the clearance nor the necessity to see them.

But something Outbound Flight found?

"What does Outbound fleet or whatever they found have to do with any of this attack?!" She continued, her brows furrowing deeper. There was already too much going on. They had to get to safety, perhaps even evacuate —

"— Wait, how do you know about Outbound Fleet?… why would you know what they found? What did they find —"

But it was the screetching sound of tortured engines that cut her off, the brunette snapping her head around toward the fractured viewport and her lips parted in growing horror as an evacuation transport came hurtling through the smoke. It clipped the edge of a distant structure, then spun violently before crashing into the grounds beyond the Zaltin complex with enough force to send debris scattering across the landing concourse.

"Oh Shiraya…" Sibylla uttered in horrified shock at the sight of dark shapes being thrown from the wreckage.

Bodies. They were bodies. Oh my goodness those were people!!

Sibylla stood frozen for half a heartbeat before instinct seized her and she rose.

"We need medics out there!" She cried out, but Zaltin security was already moving…Then one of the bodies twitched. Oh thank Shiraya they were alive!

But they weren't. Instead, grunts and growls seemed to shudder through. Then another body convulsed violently. Then another. All across and around the wreckage, limbs jerked at impossible angles. Fingers clawed against the earth. Something metallic shifted beneath torn flesh with a wet mechanical clicking that Sibylla could hear even through the alarms.

And then one of the fallen slowly rose; its head snapped sideways, and there was as something distinctly inhuman about those movements and if one could see closely, it was as if little metal glimmers began warping through what remained of its face. That was when an icy chill ran down Sibylla's spine, and the tiny hairs on her neck rose. Everything in that moment, the chaos of the attack and the destruction around her, faded away as that single gut-punching sensation sank into her gut.

"Quinn…" Sibylla's voice cracked as more were standing now, and it was instinct that had her move her hand towards her hand blaster — because whatever had crawled from that transport suddenly lurched forward in broken, spasmodic movements, mangled bloody flesh tangled with machinery as guttural moans mixed with the whine of whatever monstrosity had activated the Blight.

The technobeast Sith creations came rambling towards the facility as if possessed.

No…. Toward them.

Behind Sibylla, corporate security personnel began shouting orders as blast doors descended and rifles were raised toward the approaching figures. Sibylla slowly began backing away from the viewport, blood still streaking one side of her face. For several terrible seconds, the Sith fleet overhead ceased being the most frightening thing on Thyferra.

“What… is going on?” for someone who had never seen the extent of such technology or experienced anything of the sort, this just felt like a nightmare.

​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

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

​

Keeping cover behind the cargo container, which stood roughly chest height to someone of his size, Balun flinched as he felt the heavy crate shudder. Sparks and shrapnel metal claws sprayed out from his right as Helix returned fire, in doing so blowing a portion of the side of the cargo wide open, penetrating through both front and back and forcing the Jedi Knight to drop lower to his left side in fear of taking a hit.

"I'm taking this quite personally", He shouted aloud, his voice raised, yet his words spelling urgency more so than aggression towards the advanced droid archetype. Every opportunity for discourse between them was taken, and every shot fired by Helix was silently counted. Balun had come into the fight wearing protective armour, yet he was beginning to question whether he had the best tools at his disposal for surviving the battle.

He had anticipated Darktroopers, even Sith, those he had encountered before, but all of which were susceptible to making errors. He simply didn't know enough about this Battle-droid to understand the enemy he was facing, and starting with how many rounds the massive scattergun could take seemed like as good a start as any.

Shlc, shlc, shlic.

The sound of the droid loading the scattergun prompted Balun into sudden movement, swiftly climbing back to his feet and turning the Bryar Pistol back upon his foe, squeezing the trigger another three times whilst he moved to a new position.

Reaching out with the Force, he summoned the strength to launch himself from the floor, clearing the ramp onto the elevated platform where the worker stations might better cover him from such destructive ammunition. The desks were industrial, some sort of alloy, though likely not expensive; it was still better than chancing his life on whatever had been in the cargo below.

His boots hit the floor, and the Jedi immediately threw himself forward into a roll out of sheer precaution, taking a less-than-graceful tumble behind one of the engineering benches and remaining there, pistol in hand and trying to catch his breath. It didn't take him long before Balun was turning around and on his feet once more, crouched behind the bench and searching for the sight of the droid.

"What the hell kinda droid are you anyway? I've worked on my fair share, but you're clearly a custom job," Balun called out, hoping to provoke the droid into offering the Jedi more information as to what he was facing. "That said, there are easier ways to steal Bacta. You should've stayed with your Fleet and waited out the hauliers".

'Gods damn it, I need to think of something here'.

Balun knew he could fall back upon his use of the Force, but it had never been his strength in combat. He was far better skilled with the blade and a pistol than he was in the advanced techniques of the Jedi. Naturally, he knew a couple of tricks, but he felt there were far more powerful Jedi out there than he was.

Movement from above caught his gaze, subtle yet swaying amidst the shadows. He had to squint, seeking to determine whether it was another enemy. When he realised, however, that it was one of the gantry cranes hanging high up overhead, the corner of his mouth curled in a slight smirk. 'That'll do' he gripped his blaster with both hands and waited.

If he played his cards right, perhaps blasting the thing loose might at the very least slow the droid down. He just needed to get Helix in line beneath it.

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'​

 

[Helix]

Tag: Balun Dashiell
Equipment: Shotcannon


​

"What the hell kinda droid are you anyway? I've worked on my fair share, but you're clearly a custom job,

​

Never one to miss a chance to talk about himself, Helix responded evenly. "THM Tactical Supremacy model. One of a kind, my own design and make. Do you like it?"

He tracked the Jedi's movements as the latter sought some elevation, leaping into cover behind a series of workstations on the upper gantry.

Return fire from the interloper's pistol spattered down upon him. Two bolts struck Helix in his center of mass, leaving glowing craters. The machine's liquescent skin rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by stones, and began to quickly flow back together again.

The monster emitted a disturbingly-organic hiss of anger, a sound that would have been more fitting emerging from some sort of gigantic reptile than a droid. Helix had a feeling his enemy was playing the same game he was himself. Moving cautiously, trying to understand what he was dealing with.

He decided to switch tactics, push his adversary's buttons, and try to shake him from his comfort zone.

Displaying the same disturbing morphic capabilities as before, the spidery limbs again emerged from the Helix's back. He scurried up the nearby bacta shelving, disturbing several of the glowing ampoules in the doing, before leaping up onto the gantry himself.

The thin metal groaned under the towering droid's weight, but he had once again closed the distance between them, advancing with the unhurried grace of a jungle predator.

"That said, there are easier ways to steal Bacta. You should've stayed with your Fleet and waited out the hauliers"

"Easier, certainly, but there are also easier ways to repel an invasion than marching to your doom." Switching the weapon's programmable shells to explosive fragmentation mode, Helix lined up the cluster of workbenches carefully in his sights. "I don't think either of us is concerned with what is easy."

Unlike the thunderous boom of its previous shots, this was more of a muffled whump, betraying the low-velocity launch of an explosive charge. The fragmentation slug sailed through the air between them, aimed to attempt to flush the Jedi from his cover.

"You're good." The horror observed dispassionately. "Adaptable, courageous. Everything a knight should be."

Distressingly, the liquid metal around the droid's inhuman, four-eyed faceplate distorted. A fanged, grinning maw slowly spread itself, an expression of twisted humor. It seemed for all the world like the machine was having fun. "If you wish to play the hero, then I'll give you a hero's death. They're usually not quick and painless."

 

[Srina Talon]

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

"I don't know, Srinabae. The accommodations were starting to lose their charm."

<<And yet…You seem determined to return to my care.>>

Her mental voice carried easily, everywhere and nowhere, tinged with knowledge that Judah Lesan seemed to have forgotten. She was a humorless creature, direct, and to the point, while he remained the skirt-chasing court jester of whatever Order he had decided to pledge himself to. Had she not made his accommodations memorable enough?

Did his dead wife ever tire of rolling over in her grave?​

Hawkish eyes narrowed on the blast door as the Covenant Titan moved to clear the obstacle in their way. While the others heard a "chime," the silvery woman heard what the attack really was. It was surprising to see Mercy use an ability such as shatterpoint, which required absolute precision, versus just punching a hole in it—But her expression became one of pale approval. Whatever question she might have asked her battle-sister was cut off when the larger woman held out her hand. Srina took it, delicate, and stepped over the debris.

They passed over the newly made entrance together, and Srina let metaphysical senses crawl through the refinery like fingers made of shadow. Mercy shared what she saw through the connection that existed between them, and the Echani did the same. Corridors, high walkways, and an exposed central floor should have created a space that was favorable for the mice hiding inside…But that was a matter of perspective.

"Look, Srina... all of this for us."

<<I see it, sestra…>>

The answer was touched with the faintest hint of amusement, though it faded beneath the information still filtering through her Holo-HUD. Gerwald Lechner had answered her earlier demand for a report, and it seemed that the Aurek-Seven had already been penetrated. Republic resources were being handled while the Second Legion pushed on and the Shadow Hand ( Darth Prazutis ) created a new point of ingress. Rather loudly, it seemed, in an impressive (or excessive) use of orbital armaments.

Republic forces deployed Force suppression field. Flagship obscured completely from senses and the Force itself. Will continue monitoring, but be advised. Additional devices may be in field.

The intelligence from the Lady of Secrets carried an entirely different concern. Something aboard the Grace of Theed was suppressing the Force strongly enough to render the vessel a void to those trying to perceive it. Srina had not been aware that such technology existed… It seemed entirely fantastical and perverse, against the natural order, but would that not accurately describe the Light?

The Empress of the Blackwall quietly marked the warning for distribution, just in case, and noticed that Gerwald Lechner did the same thing. Like mistress, like wolf…But for the moment she ultimately set it aside. There was nothing to be gained from worrying over a weapon that had not yet appeared before her—The Sith, her children, just weren't as ignorant as the High Republic might have wished.

"That fancy armor won't protect you from me." His gaze then shifted toward Srina. "And you." His expression hardened. "Backing a feral animal like her instead of putting it down..."

Her attention returned to her nephew while the giantess at her side baited the young man. Mercy spitefully invoked Arris and killing, and Srina offered neither agreement nor objection…Though a little frown crossed primrose lips as the boy moved to stand between her and Judah Lesan ... Her battle-sister was not an animal. "Mind your manners, Acier…I imagine that the Tapani sector thinks the same of you."

He had changed. Grown…As children did, but not necessarily for the better.

The realization stirred something hot beneath the stillness of her wintry expression, something too complicated to be reduced to anger. Srina had never demanded that those she loved become pale reflections of herself. Acier was not truly a youngling, nor was he some witless pup to be pulled between competing masters.

Still.

She wished he had chosen differently.

A sudden flash of red drew her sight away from her lost little nephew and back toward her runaway prisoner. He seemed surprised by the color, what it symbolized, but the Empress was not. She knew him better than he knew himself. She remembered, often, what his Jutrand Omelet of a brain did not.

There would be one final nightmare as the wind whispered the words which the Dread Queen placed in his mind.

The city around him was gone, the beach washed away. Instead, he stood in the ruins of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, flames licking at the shattered columns, smoke curling into the darkened sky. The stench of death choked the air. Bodies lay at his feet, Jedi bodies. Their lightsabers lay extinguished beside them, the hilts still gripped in lifeless hands.

A crimson glow illuminated his vision.

Judah looked down.

A red blade hummed in his grasp.

It was not the first time he had seen himself wield a crimson lightsaber, even if it was only in the sweetest of dreams. He had mentally wiped out his own kind time and time again with such little provocation that she could scarcely understand where his sudden bravado came from. He was right. These two Jedi did NOT know the truth of Judah Lesan.

But she did.
​

Judah lost himself in his guilt, his shame, and rage took over. He came for her in a flurry of foolish movement, and her right hand rose. Nothing more was required. The Force condensed before her palm, and the elderly Jedi's saber struck a pulsing invisible barrier rather than white flesh. Its light spilled across her features while it strained against her telekinetic defense, close enough to illuminate eyes that had gone molten beneath the sudden flare.

Her lips curved in the faintest smile. No matter how he wailed and cried like a babe fresh from the womb, the Jedi Master always came back to her. By hook or by crook…She owned everything he was, everything he would be, no matter how many jokes he made. She could smell it in the sour flop sweat he exuded from his "daring" escape…

He was angry.

He was afraid.

"There you are, Judah…Let the hate flow through you."

Golden light clashed with red on the edge of her awareness while the unknown Jedi ( Lorn Reingard ) joined the fray. How crude, they were. Still no introductions?

The seemingly human male used Judah's attack exactly as opportunity invited, vaulting toward her battle-sister with his weapon angled toward the Titan. Srina registered the movement without turning toward it. Her sestra was neither helpless nor subordinate…But gold-hewn eyes once more turned to Acier Moonbound while something in the air shifted around her.

It was almost imperceptible as a thin filament of violet-white electricity started slipping between the fingers of her left hand. She held Judah at bay, even still, while another arc crawled over the scales of her armor. Still…She watched her nephew with corrupted eyes that would seek to keep him where he was. Like a butterfly with a pin stuck in it.

The Echani's infinite gaze began to brighten from within, while violence gathered beneath her skin and for all intent and purpose…Seemed like she was about to unleash something awful against her own family. A furious star built in her palm before lightning detonated from elegant fingertips—Only, her hand shifted targets in the last second.

From Acier Moonbound to Lorn Reingard , no matter how Mercy reacted to his initial attack. The violent wash of light ripped toward the Jedi Knight and cracked through the air with enough force that one could smell ozone. The torrent came hard and sustained, pouring from her body, but throughout it all…

Incandescent eyes remained fixed on Acier.

Srina was everything the High Republic feared, worse, and made no apologies for it. Actions had consequences, and whether or not they actually claimed Thyferra mattered very little. The truth was simple, as simple and clean as the Force Lightning that brightened the refinery.

"…Is this a game for you, little love? Am I playing my role correctly?"

There was no laughter in the question, only the cold, pained curiosity of someone who had distantly watched Acier cross the divide. Jedi. Sith. Light. Darkness—And back again. Mercy had once stood beside him, and now he looked upon her as something rabid enough to be put down. Tomorrow, perhaps, the wheel would turn again.

Tomorrow, perhaps, he would accept her embrace.

<<Waste not, sestra.>>

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)

 

[Balun Dashiell]

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

​

Alarmingly, the "THM Tactical Supremacy" Droid scaled the industrial shelves of bacta vats the way one might imagine some form of mechanical arachnid might move. A deep frown knitted his brow as Balun watched the newly formed limbs seemingly disperse like some sort of liquid alloy, yet only once Helix had joined him upon the Gantry and raised the barrel end of the slugthrower towards the Jedi.

There wasn't time for any quick-witted sarcasm this time. Even crouched behind his makeshift cover, the Force shifted around him, disturbing the usual flow of energies for what Balun knew to be the frantic and telling signs of imminent danger. Pushing himself away from the workbench, the Jedi began to move just as the familiar 'Thunk' sound came from behind him. He tried to leap once more, assisted by the Force, but the moment the discharge of an explosive round registered in his mind, the workbench exploded, a wave of kinetic force lifting the Jedi off his feet and throwing him across the upper floor.

Smoke rolled off his body as Balun crashed against the desk of another workstation, his left side thrown against the desk and the impact sending equipment spilling over, down on top of him as he struggled to draw in a staggered breath against the floor. The former pale cloak that he wore beneath the armour still burned in places, otherwise torn and smeared with dust and soot. His body throbbed with a sharp ache, particularly his side, which seemed to burn while he tried to find his breath, winded and disoriented. Had he been any slower, he'd have suffered much worse.

And yet Helix was likely still coming, he reminded himself. Reaching for the top of the desk, he pulled himself shakily back to his feet, stumbling once as he nearly lost his balance. Turning, placing his backside against the desk for support, he looked across the gantry for the Droid, the sight of which compelled him to move despite the protest of his body.

He drew upon his secondary Lightsaber, the hilt of a standard model, which made for increased speed and maneuverability in its handling. It was also the lighter of the two, and with his Pistol still clutched in his right hand, the flare of orange light lit up the area around him with a hiss of stabilised energy churning from the emitter. Having nearly been caught by the droid's explosive round, it seemed he could no longer afford to play the long game.

Keeping the lightsaber against his palm with his thumb, the Jedi Knight's fingers outstretched, channelling his focus into the Force and willing the workstation desk to be lifted from the floor, his arm guiding the furniture as though Balun had physically thrown it, dropping to one knee as it whipped overhead and hurled across the gantry towards Helix.

Releasing his telekinetic hold, he drove himself forward, a direct sprint in tow of the clumsy projectile with a foreign strength of speed, his movements guided by the light of the Force. Using the desk as a means of distraction, the Jedi leapt high, swinging his right arm to throw himself into a half-twist aerial, lashing out from above with his lightsaber in a bid to strike down at the upper half of Helix before his momentum could carry him back to the floor behind the droid.

The amber light of his saber blurred, making the maneuver difficult to follow in the darkness; yet, with his opponent being so technologically advanced, as soon as his boots hit the floor once again, Balun drove forward for a follow-up horizontal sweep of the blade from right to left, aiming for the droid's midsection.

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'​

 

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: On the move | Objective: Bring the thunder

Allies: Srina Talon

Enemies: Acier Moonbound | Lorn Reingard | Judah Lesan

​

​

.

Lips curled into a hungry smirk at Acier’s response.

She got to him.

It wouldn’t be the last time either. Now that Acier was squarely in the middle of her way, she had no reason to hold back on him. There was no Arris Windrun to protect him.

"That fancy armor won't protect you from me." His gaze then shifted toward Srina. "And you." His expression hardened. "Backing a feral animal like her instead of putting it down..."

Mercy was about to respond to him, but then-

Her battle-sister was not an animal. "Mind your manners, Acier…I imagine that the Tapani sector thinks the same of you."

Now that got a surprised glance from Mercy, pausing as she took in the sight. It was odd. Mercy was not used to other people sticking up for her. It made her feel weirdly warm. A feeling she had no time to inspect, because the former prisoner launched himself towards Srina.

Then the guardian did the same.

Stepping forward with trained precision, Lorn ignited his golden lightsaber and vaulted off a fallen piece of blast door. He drove his blade straight toward Mercy's torso, targeting the thick central plate of her armor. Even if she couldn't stop his strike and the heavy plating absorbed the heat, the sheer kinetic weight of a Jedi Guardian's thrust would force her off balance, opening a critical gap for Acier to drive the attack home.

Mercy answered his attack in a way that was entirely characteristic of her. She didn’t try to block or dodge his attack, instead stepping into his strike, catching it straight on the chest. But she had not anticipated his launch being as powerful as it was, forcing her to skid back a touch with a growl, before she moved to grab the saber with her armored hand.

If successful her flesh would be boiling under the pressure of the super-heated plasma. The armor protected against many things, but it did nothing to the transfer of heat directly into her meat.
But it would also mean Lorn was trapped for as long as the saber was ignited, putting him dangerously close to a monster that was quite often the largest and most physically imposing beast in the room.

She’d move to slam her balled hand right into his side to try and break a few ribs while he was still in her proximity.

The violent wash of light ripped toward the Jedi Knight and cracked through the air with enough force that one could smell ozone. The torrent came hard and sustained, pouring from her body, but throughout it all…

The lightning cackled out and no matter if it hit its intended target, it hit Mercy all the same, bursting into the fist that was trying to crack every rib in Lorn’s body. The surge was painful, even if she wasn’t the aim, bursting through her with a gasp that turned into a delighted cackle as she was cooked from the inside.

Her fist launched out, one of the arcs snapping from her body and lashing toward Judah Lesan instead.

Srina and Mercy did not fight like two separate individuals anymore.

After so many battles together, they moved like one.

Complete unity. Battle-sisters in the Echani mindset had nothing to do with blood.

Instead, they were two souls that hummed in perfect accord, no words required when their bodies already moved in sync.

If Lorn was still in proximity Mercy would attempt to kick him back to create more space for them both.

“Did you know, sestra,” Mercy called out towards Srina, even though the words were aimed at Acier and his allies. “That I left myself open to your nephew back in the Covenant? He could have killed me then. Hell, I hear on Jakku he could have killed Arris too. But he left, twice, instead of acting.”

And what had happened to Abregado-rae in return?

The smile that spread across those predatory teeth was downright nightmarish.

“Does it ever leave you awake at night, boy? Knowing you could have stopped us before we got to Abregado-rae? Or did you rationalize that, just as you rationalized Tapani to yourself?”

Mercy wouldn’t stop.

She didn’t care about breaking his body.

All that the Lord of the Covenant wanted was to break his spirit. One way or another. But first, she had to make him commit to the fight, instead of hanging back. Just as Srina and Mercy had their rhythm, so did the three of them.

What Mercy hungered for was to disrupt their unity. To prevent them from working in coordination, to separate them, so the two battle-sisters could toy with them to their heart’s content.

Because wasn’t that the true thrill of the hunt?

Not just the kill, but the dance that led up to it.

“Are you going to let others fight for you? I am here. Try and end me, boy.”

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

WEARING: This | WEAPONS: Lightsaber
ALLIES: Seraphina Corvinus | ENEMIES: EVERYONE | Currently angry with:​

"That's a strange thing to say to your blind wife…"

The faint smile that touched Daegon's mouth was one Seraphina would not see, though he suspected she would hear it well enough when he answered.

"You know perfectly well what I meant."

His hand found hers before they continued toward the waiting transport, thumb passing slowly across her knuckles. Daegon had never considered Seraphina's blindness an argument against the value of her perspective. If anything, years beside her had taught him how much people missed while congratulating themselves for having perfectly functional eyes. She listened differently, noticed differently, and cared about things Daegon could too easily reduce to numbers, assets, obligations, and consequences when left entirely to himself.

There was warmth beneath the teasing, but the admission itself was sincere. Daegon had spent much of his life ensuring Seraphina was protected, sometimes with an intensity even he knew bordered upon excessive. Protection had never meant placing her behind him when decisions were made. Her perspective had always carried equal weight to his, particularly where Thyferra and the lives dependent upon Xucphra were concerned. There were also occasions when Daegon deliberately wanted her beside him because he understood precisely what her presence did to the less forgiving parts of his nature.

His fingers tightened gently around hers. "Besides, Senator Smyth is about to have the dubious pleasure of speaking with the Demon of Thyferra while his patience is already exhausted. I suspect having the Angel in the room may be in everyone's best interest."

The humor faded slightly, leaving something more affectionate behind. "Especially mine."

Daegon had expected the bunker to be crowded. He had not expected Senator Smyth to sound quite so casual while describing the poisoning of Thyferra's bacta supply.

That particular revelation followed them through the security checkpoint and into the fortified complex beneath the Senator's offices. Republic personnel moved with purpose around them, carrying equipment, establishing communications, and feeding information into mobile holodisplays. The military presence was substantial enough that Daegon could not accuse the Republic of doing nothing, but that did not make the circumstances surrounding the invasion any less frustrating.

The commando escort earned a brief glance when Smyth mentioned their specialized training against Sith mental influence. Daegon kept whatever amusement the remark produced entirely to himself. There were moments when the galaxy displayed a sense of irony so precise that interfering with it would have been impolite.

His attention returned to Seraphina instead. She had grown quieter during the journey, especially after whatever she had detected among the wreckage. Daegon had not questioned her judgment when she warned him away from it. He had simply marked the location and forwarded it to Xucphra security with strict instructions that no one approach without adequate support. Seraphina experienced the world differently from him, but different had never meant lesser. If she told him something was wrong, he treated the warning accordingly.

That same trust was why she stood beside him now.

Daegon had spent most of the journey thinking about what he intended to say to Smyth. There were questions concerning the Blackwall, Republic intelligence, the response timeline, and whatever information had led the Senator to conclude that Sith forces were poisoning bacta. He also wanted specifics on which supplies had been compromised and whether anything contaminated had already entered distribution.

Seraphina cut through all of it with one question about the villages.

Daegon remained silent while she spoke. There had been a time when he might have considered silence in a room like this a surrender of control, but years beside Seraphina had taught him otherwise. Her concern was not less important because it lacked the language of military strategy or corporate logistics. If anything, it exposed how easily men surrounded by maps and troop movements could forget that every symbol represented families, workers, and people who had gone to sleep beneath Republic protection only to awaken beneath bombardment.

Daegon felt Seraphina draw closer when the ground shook again, and his arm settled around her without thought. His gaze remained fixed on Smyth, but the contact was enough to check the first response that rose in him. Anger came naturally. Restraint was something he chose.

"Answer my wife first, Senator. If the villages are being evacuated, where are those people being taken? If they are not, I would like to know why."

Daegon allowed the question to remain where Seraphina had placed it. He had promised her that her concerns would matter equally, and he had no intention of turning that promise into ceremony by immediately burying her words beneath his own. Only after giving Smyth the opportunity to reckon with the question did his attention sharpen.

"As for your description of the attack, I agree with one part of it. Brutal, certainly. Unprovoked? No."

Daegon did not raise his voice because he did not need to. "The High Republic has repeatedly tested the Blackwall. The Jedi moved against Quinn Varanin. Whether anyone in this room approved of those decisions is irrelevant to the point. Actions taken against a hostile power have consequences, and pretending otherwise does nothing for the people currently paying for them."

His hand remained steady against Seraphina. "Do not mistake my hatred of what the Sith are doing to my home for surprise that they came."

There was no defense of the invasion in the statement. Daegon had seen too much of Thyferra burn in his lifetime to offer one. He remembered what the Tenth Sith Empire had done to the world, and he remembered the destruction that followed when the Galactic Alliance attempted to reclaim it. The banners had changed. The cost had not.

"It is a surprise that Aether Verd did not join the Sith in this fight. The Jedi moved against Quinn Varanin, and Aether has never been known for allowing an attack on his family or his empire to go unanswered. His absence is not indifference. It is restraint, calculation, or a decision to let the Sith bear the cost of this war without Mandalorian interference. Whatever the reason, no one here should mistake it for forgiveness. If Aether comes, he will come with his crosses, and the crucifixions that follow him will make this invasion look considerably less contained."

Daegon let the comparison settle without pressing it further. Seraphina's fingers remained tucked against his arm, and that small point of contact was enough to remind him why he had wanted her here. He could dismantle arguments all afternoon if given the opportunity. It would not move a single family away from a burning field.

His attention shifted to the other matter Smyth had raised.

"You also said the bacta supply is being poisoned."

That concerned him, though not for the reasons the Senator might have assumed. "Fortunately, I oversee Xucphra's security myself. Our critical systems have remained isolated from planetary and government infrastructure since the Confederacy controlled this world and I occupied the chair you are sitting in."

There was no triumph in the statement. If anything, it sounded like the consequence of a lesson learned too thoroughly.

"That independence may have spared us certain vulnerabilities, but it does not answer the larger question. What exactly has been contaminated? Fields? Refinery stock? Finished bacta? Republic-controlled reserves?"

Daegon's expression tightened. "And has any of it entered distribution?"

That question had not been first in his mind when Smyth initially mentioned the sabotage, but Seraphina had spent the journey asking whether people were safe. She had worried about villages while Daegon thought about infrastructure, leverage, and loss. Standing beside her made it considerably harder to reduce poisoned bacta to damaged inventory when its purpose was to keep people alive.

Perhaps that was why his employees preferred delivering bad news when she was nearby. The thought nearly produced a smile, though the expression never quite managed to appear.

Another tremor passed through the bunker. Daegon's arm tightened around Seraphina as his eyes shifted briefly toward the military displays and then toward Colonel Varanid. He did not presume to know what had caused it, and judging from the movement around the situation room, he was not alone in wanting an answer.

His attention returned to Smyth. Daegon had come prepared to demand explanations, but Seraphina had already reminded him to demand something more useful first.

Answers that might actually help their people.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Thyferra

Equipment:
Vanguard Robes | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

ALLIES: Lorn Reingard | Judah Lesan
ADVERSARIES: Mercy | Srina Talon

The blaster discharged somewhere beyond the shattered counter. Ace didn't see the bolt hit, but he didn't need to. The Zeltron's presence simply disappeared.

One moment she was there, terror blazing through the Force, and the next there was nothing. Ace remained sprawled among splintered wood and scattered equipment as the realization settled heavily in his chest.

Lorn hauled him upright before Ace could fully process what had happened, shoving him toward the rear exit. Ace stumbled forward, then ran.

The regret followed him through the alleys. He understood why Lorn had to do it. The Zeltron knew about D'Qar, and enough about the Vanguard's network to destroy everything they'd built if the Sith took her alive. Their mission, their people, potentially thousands more lives depended on that information never reaching the enemy.

Ace understood, but he didn't like it. He wished they'd saved her, that things could've been different.

---

Did this guy ever stop talking?


The thought crossed Ace's mind moments before a lightsaber ignited behind him. He glanced over his shoulder toward the one-barefooted survivor and found himself staring at a crimson blade.

Well. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Ace turned back toward the Sith. He offered no response to Srina's rebuke, dark eyes simply boring into hers. Her point wasn't entirely invalid. The people of Tapani probably did think the same of him. The difference was that Ace knew what he'd done was wrong. He carried it every day. Everything he'd done since leaving the Covenant had been an attempt to take responsibility for it.

Mercy? She only seemed interested in discovering what fresh horror she could escalate toward next.

But Ace wasn't interested in debating either of them. Movement behind him drew his attention as Judah pushed past, hatred pouring from him so densely through the Force that Ace almost recoiled.

"Wait--don't!"

Judah lunged at Srina. Now they had something else to worry about. Then Lorn moved, using Judah's attack to launch himself at Mercy. Golden plasma struck armor and Ace prepared to follow...

...Only Srina stopped Judah cold. And Mercy simply ate Lorn's attack. He probably should've mentioned Mercy regenerates.

Ace started forward when Srina's eyes found his. He froze, watching the lightning gathere around her fingers. Would she really attack him? Isley's son? Aether's brother? Her nephew?

And if she did... would Aether understand if Ace fought back?

The answer came in violet-white fury, but not at him. Srina's hand snapped toward Lorn and lightning tore across the refinery, engulfing him while Mercy held him close. The current passed through the Titan before another arc lashed toward Judah.

Ace moved to intervene--

"…Is this a game for you, little love? Am I playing my role correctly?"

His foot stopped. "Not a game, Srina. Responsibility."

His eyes remained locked on hers. Then he exploded into motion as Mercy's voice followed him.

Throneworld, he could have killed Mercy. On Jakku, he could have killed Arris. Restraint had stayed his hand with Mercy. Attachment with Arris. And then came Abregado-rae. The accusation hurt because some part of him wondered whether she was right.

But he wasn't making that mistake again. Ace launched upward, planting one foot against Lorn's shoulder. Both blades swept up defensively against any lightning arcing across him before Ace kicked away, simultaneously helping drive Lorn out of Mercy's grasp.

His right fist then punched toward the Titan without the aim to connect. Telekinetic power erupted along the line of his strike, a concussive wave powerful enough to overturn a starfighter hammering toward Mercy at point-blank range.

If the attack succeeded in driving Mercy backward, Ace would use the momentum from kicking away from Lorn to carry himself after her, twisting through the air.

"All that power and you still can't exercise shutting the fuck up."

Blue and purple would descend toward Mercy's head, both blades aimed to take it from her shoulders.Ace knew what conventional damage meant against her. He'd seen what she could recover from. A mace could destroy her face and she'd come back.

So hurting Mercy wasn't enough. As he descended, his mind was already turning toward uglier possibilities.

Decapitation? Or perhaps there were things even regeneration couldn't repair if he simply made her heart stop.​

 

[Helix]

Tag: Balun Dashiell
Equipment: Shotcannon (For the first half of the post)​

Helix took several slow, deliberate steps forward in the wake of the explosion, weapon still raised.

Then the familiar sound of a lightsaber ignition split the momentary quiet, and Helix was staring down the golden blade of a Jedi's trademark weapon.

Though battered by the explosion, his foe's momentum didn't waver for more than an instant. Good. Some part of Helix had been spoiled for worthy enemies lately, and both of them had been mortal men.

It wasn't so much that they posed a true danger, only that they fought. The struggle, after all, was what gave any meaning at all to life. Mercy had once told him that complete victory was its own form of defeat. What would be the point, in a universe where one could not snap bones under their hands, or feel freshly-spilled blood on their face?

In moments like these, Helix truly understood.

One of the mangled desks came flying at him, followed a moment later by the barely-visible, motion-blurred form of the Jedi behind it.

The intent was a clear one: an overwhelming one-two impact. The Jedi was responding to Helix's increased offense with one of his own.

Like he'd observed, this fellow was good. Often, Helix's greatest advantage in battle was sheer adaptability. He could take almost any form, overcome almost any obstacle. It was a rare (but pleasant) surprise to meet someone who could meet him step for step.

Only one other had achieved the same in recent memory. As with that one, he was becoming reluctant to kill this one. A dead enemy meant an end to the fun. Still, that earned no mercy from him, no staying of the hand. Only extra care when he assimilated this consciousness into the whole.

Helix dropped the shotgun, catching the flying metal hulk with both hands. The catwalk emitted another ominous groan as the shock of impact travelled from Helix's hands to feet, and then into the floor.

He angled the furniture upwards as the Jedi sailed over his head, causing a midair lightsaber strike meant for his neck to instead bisect the sturdy metal. The desk toppled off the gantry in two neatly-sliced halves, unfortunately taking the shotgun with it as one chunk of debris struck the dropped weapon, sending it spinning into the darkness below.

The Jedi was behind him now, and rather than turn around, Helix simply rearranged himself. Photoreceptor-clusters emerged from the back of his head, apparent joint arrangements reversed direction, and in less than a second, he was facing backwards.

Helix's midsection split open for an instant in anticipation of the strike, causing the humming blade to pass harmlessly through. Once it had, the two portions of the droid rejoined seamlessly.

"Your Master taught you well." Observed the mechanical nightmare, in that same tone of clinical interest. "I look forward to learning his name, and yours, when I salvage your memory neurons."

The droid lifted one arm high, curling his metallic hand into a fist. The metal roiled and warped, forming itself into a spinning circular sawblade. Sparks flew from the whirring metal weapon as it sailed downward in a viciously-quick diagonal blow, slicing away two of the gantry's supports.

The entire platform groaned and lurched to one side, sending several of the remaining desks toppling to the ground floor with an incredible clamor. Helix didn't wait to see if his foe would be unbalanced, but leapt forward, thrusting the snarling sawblade outward towards the Jedi's neck and shoulder.

 

[Jaun Smyth]

Senator of Thyferra
Xucphra City - Government Offices
Daegon Corvinus Seraphina Corvinus
​

Deep underground in the bunker of the situation room, Jaun Smyth sat at the head of a conference table facing two rather upset corporate well-to-dos.

A swarm of aides and other officials, the vast majority of whom were Vratix, shuffled about the room. One sat next to Jaun as his personal aide.

Jaun held up a hand as the corporate executive and his wife started demanding answers. It seemed they were determined to speak at some length so Jaun simply sat there with a tight smile that never quite reached his eyes. The demeanor of this Mr. Corvinus was extraordinarily hostile. How unfortunate.

“That’s quite the list of questions. I am neither as adept nor as bright as the pair of you, so you will have to bear with me as this simple public servant does his best to go through one by one.”

Jaun took a sip of his tea and then set it down.

“First, the farms of Thyferra are, as I’m sure you are aware, so vast and numerous that it is actually quite impossible to evacuate every single one. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, as you are also aware this is not the first time Thyferra has suffered at the hands of foreign aggression. The Vratix have bunkers or deep nests all across the planet. Most farming villages do after the last incursion. Those who wish to stay and fight are being armed by the Republic. Others are being escorted to their bunkers, deep nests, or to a spaceport if they are determined to evacuate the planet entirely by small Republic squads or Vratix defense forces or local militia.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jaun frowned at the next note he had jotted down on his datapad. It was the name Quinn Varanin with a question mark beside it.

“As for the um-“ Jaun turned to his aide, “Isn’t that the Echani Queen? Is there something I was unaware of or…”

The Vratix chittered in his ear and Jaun’s eyebrows rose.

“Uh… I see. They made her upset with questions? Terrible, terrible. Mhm. Ok. Well, Mr. Corvinus,” Smyth’s attention focused back on the executive.

“Move against is quite the turn of phrase you used. Quite the turn of phrase. What did you mean by that?”

 

["Ariel"]

Get off Thyferra
ON THE GROUND
THYFERRA

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

The lights went out. Not all at once. That would have been merciful. Thyferra died one piece at a time. One district vanished beyond the rain. Then another.

Factories became black silhouettes against burning forests. Towers disappeared. Streetlights flickered twice before surrendering to darkness. Production machinery spun down. Somewhere beneath the city, pumps stopped moving water.

The industrial park followed. One bank of lights. Then another. Then another. Until Omega Squad stood beneath little more than emergency illumination, distant fires and the occasional violent flash of weapons fire. Bren Alazar “Michael” watched the darkness spread across his tactical display. [Gabriel..]

[Working..]

[That's becoming my least favorite word..]

[Then stop asking me questions while I'm working..]

Bren almost smiled. Almost. Another sector disappeared.

SERAPHIM spoke. [Primary power-management architecture has been compromised.]

[How much?.]

[Forty-one percent and increasing.]

[Can you stop it?.]

No..]

That got Connel's attention. SERAPHIM rarely said no. Then: [Gabriel would be more effective.]

__________________________________

2Lt Talyn Rynda Cronumul had half his arm buried inside a junction housing. Three spikes protruded from the exposed circuitry. Another rested between his teeth.

[That's a generous interpretation.]

[I am incapable of physically severing connections.]

[Yeah, yeah.] He removed the spike from his mouth. "Some of us have hands.][/COLOR]

I am aware.]

Gabriel drove it home.

CHUNK.

A section of the network vanished. Not powered down. Gone. Completely isolated from central control. SERAPHIM immediately sealed the digital boundary around it. A hospital remained illuminated.

[One..] Gabriel moved. Another spike. A bacta refrigeration complex.

CHUNK.

[Two..] Another. Emergency medical. Another. Containment. Another. Republic command. Large portions of Thyferra were going dark. Gabriel wasn't trying to save them anymore. He was cutting islands out of the sinking ship.

SERAPHIM spoke. [Hostile code detected.]

[What?]

[Replicating cybernetic contaminant. Multiple systems affected.]

[Can you kill it?.]

A pause. [Not without risking critical infrastructure.]

Gabriel smiled beneath his helmet. [Then don't.] He ripped a cable free. [Tell me where.]

____________________________________

The first corrupted blast door opened.

Republic troops immediately raised their weapons. The second slammed shut. A third began cycling rapidly between commands. Bren watched alerts multiply. [SERA?]

Hostile malware is rewriting command structures.

[Options.]

[Containment.

[Do it.]

[Containment will require sacrificing compromised network segments.]

Bren looked around the battlefield. They'd already made that decision once today. [Cut them.]

SERAPHIM obeyed. Networks disappeared. Connections died. Entire sections of the industrial park became electronically isolated. The virus hit one firewall. Stopped. Changed. Replicated. Tried another route. SERAPHIM closed it. Another. Closed. Another.

Then Talyn physically removed the connection before it could arrive. [Node Twelve isolated.]

SERAPHIM answered immediately. Confirmed.]

[Next.]

Nine.]

[On it.]

Bren looked at his display. Then something strange happened. One hostile connection remained active. [SERA.]

Yes?]

[You missed one.]

[Negative.]

[They're still inside.]

[I know.]

Connel looked toward Bren. Bren looked back. [Oh, boy.]

The Sith slicer continued moving through what appeared to be Thyferran financial records. Downloading. Deleting. Injecting malware. SERAPHIM watched. Talyn understood first.

[That's not the real database.]

Correct.]

[What are they in?]

[A simulation.]

Bren slowly smiled. [Can you see them?]

[Yes.]

[Can they see you?]

[Not yet.]

Connel turned away. [Have fun.]

There was the tiniest pause. Then: [Thank you.]

The hostile connection suddenly stopped. Somewhere else on Thyferra, a Sith terminal flashed.

REMOTE PRIVILEGES REVOKED

Another.

HOSTILE RELAY IDENTIFIED

Another.

CREDENTIALS INVALID

And finally:

COUNTER-INTRUSION ACTIVE

SERAPHIM reached through the connection. Not far. She didn't need far. Just far enough. Hostile caches corrupted. Sessions terminated. A relay rebooted. Several Sith slicers suddenly found themselves locked out of the systems they'd used to attack Thyferra.

Bren glanced at the display. [SERAPHIM?]

[Yes?]

[Don't chase them.]

[I have no intention of doing so.] A beat. [They came to me.]

Connel nodded [There she is.]

______________________________________

[Commander.]

Different tone. Bren immediately focused. [What?]

[Incoming aerospace contacts.] Reaper answered simultaneously.

[Michael, I've got them.]

[Numbers?]

[Three formations. Fighter escorts. Bombers.]

The tactical display changed. Three arrows descended toward Thyferra. One toward the capital. One toward the battlefront. One… Bren stared. [...toward us.]

[Confirmed.]

[Payload?]

[Unknown.]

Jeremiel interrupted. [After today?]

Nobody needed him to finish. Bren switched frequencies. [All Republic aerospace and air-defense elements, incoming bomber formations. Confirm hostile identification before engagement.]

Then: [Reaper.]

[Go.]

[The industrial package is yours. Clear to fire.]

[Copy.]

[And Reaper?]

[Go.]

Bren looked toward the contamination map. [They do not release.]

[Understood.]

__________________________________________

High above Thyferra, the Vigilant Reaper rolled.

The storm vanished beneath it. Stars appeared. Then targets. Fighters. Bombers. Weapons. The Reaper accelerated. [Multiple outbound shuttles below.]

Bren answered. [Confirmed hostile?]

[Three.]

[Take what you can. Bombers take priority.]

[Copy.] The first shuttle never knew. A turbolaser solution appeared.

THOOM.

The bolt crossed kilometers almost instantaneously. The shuttle's shields flared. Failed. It was returning fire, not enough for the gunship’s armor. Its starboard engine disappeared. The craft rolled away trailing fire. [One.] Second shuttle went low. Buildings behind it. No turbolaser. The Reaper descended. Rotary cannons spun.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRT.

The shuttle juked. Rounds walked across its shields. Another burst.

BRRRRRRRRRRT.

Engine failure. The pilot fought it. Almost recovered. The third burst ended the argument. [Two.]

[Bombers entering engagement range.]

Reaper broke away. A third confirmed hostile shuttle crossed the nose. Bad timing. Turbolaser.

THOOM.

[Three.]

Two more shuttles scattered. Reaper ignored them. [Michael.]

[Go.]

[Two escaped.]

Bren never looked away from the bomber formation. [Let them.]

[Copy.]

[Get those bombers.]

The Reaper climbed.

__________________________________________

On the ground, Regal saw the same contacts.

He had other problems. Rockets descended.

WHUMP.

Grenades followed.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

Sniper fire cracked against Republic positions. Crownbreaker continued walking. Regal studied the industrial park. Nemesis wanted a cushion. Regal had decided he didn't get one. [All mechanized commands.]

Acknowledgments flooded the channel. [Armor leads.] Crownbreaker stepped through the rain. "Infantry follows and secures.][/COLOR] Another step. [Evacuation corridors remain open behind us.]

A clone officer answered. "Possible contaminated civilians moving east."

[Route them through quarantine processing. Do not stop movement unless necessary.]

"Understood.”

Regal watched frightened people moving away from the battle. [Anything running away from this fight gets a road.]

His targeting display changed. [Anything bringing the fight toward them...] Crownbreaker's weapons traversed. [...gets us.]

______________________________________

Raphael ducked.

WHUMP.

[Starting to dislike these guys.]

Sariel reloaded. [You disliked them ten minutes ago.]

[Now it's personal.]

THUMP.

Her grenade disappeared into the rain. An elevated Sith firing position erupted. Raphael looked. [Nice.]

[Obviously.]

Another barrage descended. Raguel's voice came across the channel. [You're both terrible at this.]

Raphael frowned. [Where are you?]

[Closer.]

[Closer to what?]

No answer. One of the Sith grenadiers heard footsteps behind him. A fellow soldier emerged from the darkness. "Where's your unit?”

The soldier pointed behind him. He turned. Wrong decision. The "soldier's" arm changed. Shi'do flesh flowed.

WHAM.

Raguel caught the falling launcher. [Found them.]

Sariel: [Mark.]

[Marked.]

[Move.]

Raguel moved.

THUMP.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT.

The grenadier position disappeared beneath simultaneous explosive and rotary fire. Raguel came back over comms. [Your definition of safe distance concerns me.]

Sariel reloaded. [You weren't hit.]

[THAT IS NOT A UNIT OF MEASUREMENT.]

Raphael laughed. Then Reaper interrupted. [Omega support, larger grenadier concentration. Elevated terrain. Fortified.]

Raphael looked toward the hill. [Oh.]

Sariel sighted. [I can reach it.]

Raphael studied the number of firing points. [All of it?]

Silence.

Then Regal's voice: [Sariel.]

[Go.]

[Paint the position.]

She did. [Marked.]

Raphael looked toward her. [What is he...]

A tremendous mechanical whine rolled across the battlefield. Sariel lowered her Sniper Rifle. [Oh.]

[What?]

[We're done.]

Crownbreaker's main weapon aligned. Regal checked the targeting solution. No civilians. No friendlies. Confirmed hostile emplacement. [Main gun.]

[Fire.] The world turned white.

THOOOOOOOOOOM.

Earth erupted. Fortifications collapsed. Grenade teams vanished behind smoke, dirt and shattered defensive works. Raphael stared. [Michael, [...That's cheating.]

Sariel looked at his rotary cannon. [Really?]

[Mine has personality.]

Regal's voice appeared. [Grenadier position suppressed.]

Raphael looked at the cratered hillside. [Suppressed?]

A pause.

I am attempting humility.]

Raguel snorted. Then Crownbreaker walked forward. [All mechanized units.] Regal watched Republic armor begin moving with him. [Press.]

And the line moved.

____________________________________

The REEK went the other direction.

Fast. Alone. Jeremiel remotely guided several tons of armored violence through the Republic corridor. Inside its protected compartment sat something smaller than his fist. A sealed biological sample. Mantys Thrax needed it. Nothing else mattered.

[Priority Medical moving through Corridor Besh.]

A Republic armored commander answered. "We've got you."

Blaster fire crossed the road. A Republic vehicle returned fire. The REEK never slowed. Hostile position ahead.]

Jeremiel checked alternate routes. [SERAPHIM?]

Alternative adds nine minutes.]

[Nope.]

Rotary cannon.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRT.

The barricade ceased qualifying as one. The REEK drove through. A Republic tank moved beside it. Incoming fire struck the tank's armor. Jeremiel turned the turret. [Keep moving!]

[You're taking fire!]

"That's why we're here!”

The tank fired.

THOOM.

"Get Doctor Thrax his sample!”

Jeremiel stared at the road ahead. [Copy.]

The REEK accelerated.

________________________________________

Mantys Thrax received another packet.

Respirator telemetry. Atmospheric readings. Observed symptoms. Contamination mapping. Bacta research. Medical records. SERAPHIM kept feeding him everything she could save. Then: Doctor Thrax.]

The Republic scientist answered. "Yes? I represent him”

[Physical sample inbound.]

"Method?” A tactical camera showed the REEK smashing through another obstruction. SERAPHIM considered the question. [Armored courier.]

"Is that necessary?” The REEK's grenade launcher fired. THUMP. Explosion. [Increasingly.]

__________________________________________

Connel wasn't there to see any of it.

He had gone quiet. Not radio quiet. Something deeper. The Force folded inward. Presence suppressed. Light dimmed.

He became exactly what the armor suggested he was.

A commando. Nothing more. Black armor. Mask. Rifle. Ammunition. No lightsaber visible. No Jedi announcing himself to the universe. SERAPHIM had given him the last known locations of several Republic units that had stopped responding. He found the first. Dead. The second. Dead. The third...

Connel crouched. Same. Blaster wounds. Lightsaber wounds. And something else. Trust. They hadn't been ready. He found the comm-link beside one of the bodies. Picked it up. Listened. Sith traffic. His eyes narrowed behind the mask. So that was how.

Connel keyed the transmitter.

________________________________________

Elsewhere in the industrial park, Trask stopped. A stolen Republic communicator chirped. He expected another intercepted transmission.

Instead: Static. Breathing. Then a man's voice. Calm. Low.

[I'm coming for you.]

Silence. Trask would be confused at the lack of response. He would think that he had not been heard. He would try again, in a louder voice, still nothing.

______________________________________

Connel dropped the communicator. His rifle came up. And he started walking.

__________________________________

The Reaper broke through the bomber escort. Laser fire crossed the sky. The dropship rolled violently. A fighter overshot. Rotaries tracked.

BRRRRRRRRRRT.

The fighter disappeared past the wing. [Bombers continuing descent.]

[Range?]

[[Closing.]

[Republic interceptors engaging elsewhere.]

[Industrial bombers?]

[[Still ours.]

The Reaper accelerated.

__________________________________

Gabriel drove another spike home. "Twenty-two.][/COLOR]

[Twenty-three.]

[What?]

[I preserved another node.]

[That one doesn't count.]

[Why?]

[You did it.]

[An arbitrary distinction.]

[Scoreboard rules.] Another malicious process appeared. SERAPHIM quarantined it. Then pushed corrupted authentication back toward its source. A Sith relay died.

[Twenty-four.]

Gabriel stopped. [...You're enjoying this.]

[I do not experience enjoyment in the manner you are implying.]

[Sure.]

[Twenty-five.]

Gabriel laughed.

_________________________________

Republic armor advanced. Not charged.

Advanced.

That distinction mattered. A vehicle died. The others flowed around it. Infantry extracted the crew. Another hundred meters.

Sith troops withdrew.

Regal let them. He wanted ground. Another hundred meters. Infantry followed. Positions secured. Civilians moved outward through the channels opening behind them. Another hundred. The industrial perimeter shrank. Nemesis wanted room.

Regal kept taking it away.

____________________________________

Trask moved through another corridor. Nothing. He reached an intersection. Nothing.

Then...

A figure. Black armor. Rifle. Alone. Trask smiled. Another commando. The lightsaber ignited. Connel raised his rifle. Trask advanced. Blaster. Deflection. Blaster. Deflection. Connel gave ground. Trask pushed. Another shot. Another. The fake Jedi smiled. "That all you've got?”

Connel stopped firing. Trask approached. "Should've stayed hidden.”

Connel tilted his head. Then released the rifle.

CLACK.

The sling caught it against his chest. Trask hesitated. Connel's hands dropped. And the Force changed. Not exploded. Not erupted.

Unfolded.

The thing standing in front of Trask had never been empty. It had been hiding.Presence flooded back into the corridor. Jedi. Master. Shadow. Vanagor. Trask's expression changed.

Connel reached behind him. SNAP-HISS Night ignited. The second hand moved. SNA]P-HISS Day answered. Ghostfire and black-silver light reflected from his armor.

Trask stared. "You're…”

Connel settled into position. [A Jedi?]

He shook his head. [No.] Night rose. Day reversed. [I'm THE Jedi.] His mask turned toward Trask's stolen robes. [You aren't.]

Trask attacked.

__________________________________

There was no duel. Not the duel Trask wanted. Night caught the stolen saber. Day struck. Trask twisted away. Connel's knee hit him. Elbow. Blade. Shoulder. Trask shoved with the Force. Connel anchored. The floor cracked beneath his boot.

Trask attacked again.

Connel switched grips. Night became reverse Shien. Day changed angle. Trask adjusted. Connel changed again. Weapon Master. Shadow. Commando. Brawler. Jedi. Nothing stayed still long enough to understand. Trask disengaged. Connel followed. He tried distance. Connel took it away. He tried strength.

Connel redirected it.

He tried the Force. Connel answered. The stolen saber came down. Night caught it. Day trapped the wrist. Connel turned. Hard. Trask lost his grip. The lightsaber flew. Trask reached. The weapon stopped in midair. For one heartbeat they both held it through the Force. Trask pulled.

Connel looked at him.

Then the saber ripped across the corridor. SMACK. Into Connel's hand. He switched it off. CLICK. Silence. Trask stared. Connel examined the weapon. Not his. That answered one question. Day hovered near Trask. [Who are you?]

Trask said nothing. Connel lifted the stolen saber. [Wrong question.] He stepped closer. [Where is he?]

____________________________________

Above them, the Reaper acquired its first bomber.

[Solution.]

Turbolaser charged. THOOM. The bomber broke formation. Its payload remained aboard. [One bomber disabled.]

[Second maneuvering.]

Rotaries spun. [Engaging.]

BRRRRRRRRRRRRT.

The sky erupted.

________________________________________

Crownbreaker fired.

Republic armor advanced.

Raphael laughed somewhere beneath the thunder of his rotary cannon. Sariel's launcher answered. Raguel moved where nobody expected her. Gabriel severed another network, he wouldn’t be able to keep this up, but he could hold their attention for awhile. SERAPHIM closed another firewall. The REEK tore down the road toward Mantys Thrax carrying a tiny sealed piece of the nightmare.

Civilians streamed outward.

Soldiers moved inward. The containment perimeter compressed. The Sith cyberattack found something fighting back. Their air mobility found Reaper. Their grenadiers found Omega. Their defensive line found Regal. Their biological weapon found Mantys. And the man they had dressed as a Jedi...

...had found Connel Vanagor.

---

Bren stood in the center of it all.

Reports screamed through his helmet. Bombers. Containment. Power loss. Civilian evacuation. REEK approaching delivery. Republic armor advancing. SERAPHIM fighting an electronic war faster than any organic mind could follow. Then Connel's channel opened. [Michael.]

Bren answered immediately. [Go.]

[I found our Jedi.]

Bren heard something in his voice. [And?]

Connel looked down at the stolen lightsaber in his hand. [Wasn't him.]

Bren understood. [The real one?]

[Still out there.]

SERAPHIM interrupted. [I have correlated the previously detected Jedi transmission with a probable location.]

Connel looked toward Trask. [Send it.]

Coordinates appeared. [Got it.]

Bren glanced at the larger tactical picture. [Yeah?]

[Things are getting ugly.]

Connel looked around the darkened corridor. Dead Republic personnel behind him. Fake Jedi in front of him. A stolen lightsaber in his hand. Rain and war beyond the walls. He clipped the recovered weapon to his belt. [They were already ugly.]

Night extinguished. SNAP-HISS.] Day followed. SNAP-HISS.

The rifle came back into his hands. The commando returned. Except now everybody knew better… but before keying Trask’s comm-link one more time. [I’m coming for you.] Then dropped and stepped on the comm-link, crushing it beneath his foot, and looking on.

[Keep pushing.]

Bren looked toward Regal's advancing line. The Reaper fighting overhead. The REEK racing toward Mantys. The shrinking perimeter. SERAPHIM's increasingly hostile digital counterattack. Gabriel's islands of light burning inside a city Nemesis had tried to darken. He keyed every Republic command channel he had. No speech. No grand declaration.

One order. ["Press."]

And Thyferra pressed back.
______________________________________________________

1. CONNEL VANAGOR AND OMEGA SQUAD ARE CONTAINING THE AREA. NOT SURE WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT NOT ALLOWING IT TO SPREAD.

2. REAPER HAS FIRED ON DEPARTING SHUTTLES AND IS OPENLY TARGETING AND FIRING ON SITH FORCES

3. REPUBLIC FORCES AS WELL AS OMEGA SQUAD ARE IN VACUUM SEALED SUITS AND ARE PRESSING INTO THE INDUSTRIAL AREAS, ANTI AIR IS DEFENDING FROM BOMBERS.

4. SERAPHIM HAS TRANSFERRED NEARLY ALL POSSIBLE DATA OFF PLANET SAFELY WITH THE HELP OF @MANTYS THRAX A SAMPLE OF THE VIRUS IS BEING TRANSPORTED TO THRAX

5. GABRIEL IS SPIKING SITH SLICERS AND HACKING THEIR OWN SYSTEMS.

6. RAPHAEL, SARIEL AND RAGUEL ARE ATTACKING THE GRENADIERS

7. CONNEL ENGAGED THE FAKE JEDI

8. SERAPHIM IS FEEDING FALSE INFORMATION TO SITH SLICERS, GIVING THEM FALSE TARGETS AND LEADING THEM INTO TRAPS

Tobias Dib • Aiden Porte • Seren Gwyn
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

"Briana."

The serenity she’d drawn from Rik was gone now that he was, and the ruin of the hatch was back in full view from the cave within her mind, opening just enough at the sound of her own name, that a litany of images, sounds, and scents came flooding out.

There rested the hand of her father on her shoulder as legs that were still too small to reach the floor, swung impatiently over the clean marble flooring within the Queen’s throne room, sitting in a chair that’d been built for someone much larger than her.

The stern instructions he gave her, telling her to sit straight and be still, and to remember the faces of those who entered the chambers that day. The scent of the old Confederacy uniforms, polished leather and weapon oil, as the Knights Obsidian poured in single file. Gerwald at the front of them, their Lord Commander.

She’d watched the taller than life Gerwald Lechner with wonder in her eyes then, impetuously reaching her tiny arms up before her father could put a stop to her, and waving at the man with the kind blue eyes to get his attention — if only so she would have something worth bragging about to her siblings, later. Nothing could suppress the squeak she squooked, when he finally waved back.

Other, darker memories, slithered out behind the hatch, too.

She was just a Padawan then.

A frightened teenage girl, caught in the middle of a warzone, with the ashes of burning wood and something much more morbid, raining down on her. The sound of shrill screams filled the air as panicked civilians ran this way and that, while ancient stone structures that’d withstood the test of thousands upon thousands of years, were brought to their knees.

The sky above them was torn open, and monsters unlike anything she’d ever seen, spilled through the streets while Briana searched desperately for some sign that her family remained alive. Then a dragon’s shadow passed overhead. Its breath descended upon Valery and her in a torrent of flame, promising to consume them before either could escape. All she’d been able to do was cover her eyes, and hope her death was quick.

It never came, only a gust of deadly wind that’d wrenched the dragonfire away from them long enough for a single command to thunder above the devastation.

“RUUUUUUN!”

For all of the Confederacies sins, the heroic Lord Commander, who’d placed himself between innocent lives and devastation, was not one of them.

The memories struck the center of Briana’s meditation, and across Thyferra, the luminous strands of light that she’d woven between Jedi, soldiers, pilots, and Vanguard operatives strained beneath the sudden division of her concentration. It was time to let them go, and hope that she’d given them enough strength to continue their push forward and stand firm.

Metaphorical hands slowly uncurled, releasing the strands she’d held tightly together in her grip. Thousands of lives became hundreds, then dozens, then only one, her own, leaving Briana alone within herself for the first time since the battle started.

Her lips parted, releasing a long exhale from her chest, her eyes falling to the blade he'd drawn.

"So this is where we find each other again."

Briana’s long legs stretched out from beneath her, taking her time to stand from where she’d been sitting just moments before. Her own blue eyes searched this unfamiliar man's face. The man with yellow, red-rimmed eyes, who stood before her with devastation at his back.

“You wear the face of someone I once knew,” she observed, still having to tilt her head to look up at him, a tinge of sadness to her tone.

She reached for the hilt of the lightsaber at her hip, drawing it to her hand. She thumbed the activator and the white blade snapped to life. “But I’m afraid, Darth, that this is the first we’ve met. So, let me formally introduce myself,”

The thumb of her opposite hand depressed a trigger concealed against her palm, and the western approach erupted as precisely placed detonations tore at the roots of ancient trunks, groaning as they surrendered to gravity and falling one after another across the narrow pathway. Within seconds, the path Gerwald had only just come from disappeared, trapping his Dreadguard behind him, if not outright crushing some of them, in an interlocking barricade of trunks that were broad enough to turn the soldiers’ advance into a climb, and dense enough that even lightsabers would need time to carve through it.

Whether the obstruction would hold them forever, was irrelevant.

It only needed to hold them long enough. Within the confusion, one small crystal slipped from Briana’s palm and settled into the dust near her heel.

“I am Jedi Knight, Briana Sal-Soren.” She raised her blade, eyes narrowing with steady conviction. “And this is where your conquest ends.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | ENEMY: Gerwald Lechner
EQUIPMENT: Jumpsuit, Astor Daary's Blade, Springloaded Gauntlets, Echo Stone, Force Blinding Flash Bang, Jedi Imbued Kolcta Grenades x2, Lightsaber, Crystal Cage (Perms)
​