Skirmish THE BANNERLESS | Jedi Raid of TSC Held Tython

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Kito
Objective:

"It shouldn't matter, if she can forgive you or not. I am replaceable. Always have been. What matters is that you are there for her."

For as blind as Reina was to others feelings, it was readily apparent to her that Kito cared for the Sangnir immensely. Far more than Reina could. There was a connection between the pair that Reina couldn't help but find her jealous of. To be so important to someone. To be irreplaceable. Yet she shook her head, attempting not to focus on that.

The fire that roared inside of Reina, the fire that pushed her to fight had been extinguished in this moment. She truly did not want to fight. But she also would not let herself get struck down without defending herself. There was only one person Reina would willingly allow to kill her. Kito was not the one.

It hurt all the same however. Not physical, but Reina's heart felt as if it was being twisted within her chest. As if a cold bony hand has reached out to squeeze it. Even as the Force flowed through her veins, preparing her to move, there was that small part of the Siren that just wanted to accept this. She had always expected this fight to be against someone else. Against Everest. Yet perhaps fortunately for Reina, she did not have to face her former best friend like this.

The Force screamed just before Kito moved, with Reina swinging Whisperwind to her side to deflect the Odachi, clashing her blade against it, as the soft sound of a rolling wave erupted into an almighty crash, almost as if the Blade was screaming out in pain on contact against Kito's own blade. The frost that formed on contact almost immediately melting, dripping down onto the ground as Reina pushed against the bind the pair were in.

"You're putting too much emotion into your strike. Sai Tok. To cut a living opponent in half. You should aim for the head. If not that, a thrust for the heart."

Why? Why was she treating this as some kind of lesson? Kito was trying to kill her. Either way, the Siren jumped back to disengage from the bind, before she prepared for a thrust of her own, raising Whisperwind's tip towards Kito, and holding her free hand towards the rear of the handle, before Reina leapt forward, attempting to follow her own advice she had given, aiming for the Padawan's heart...but her aim shifted at the last moment. Was it hesitation? The will of her own blade? Who knows? But as she lunged, the tip moved, targeted towards Kito's shoulder instead.​

 

[Eurydice]

Diogo
​

Shadows crept into the periphery of Eurydice's vision, threatening to eat away at light and color and sound. She grasped feebly for the stake embedded in her gut, finding it slippery with blood.

Even touching it had her skin sizzling as though she'd placed her fingers on a hot burner. A strained whimper pulled from the back of her throat while she tried in vain to tug the weapon from her flesh.

You deserve far worse.

The girl had never been told that she’d deserved anything, good or bad.

Gaspar's assault registered only dimly until he'd managed to fell her attacker, perhaps by sheer surprise.

Unfortunately, the bird found himself within range of Diogo's Very Hungry Proboscises, and in trying to peck out one of the Jedi's eyeballs, found himself ensnared within their ravenous grasp.

Finally, Eurydice managed to free the Spear of Ashla from her abdomen, and with a pained cry, tossed it to the side.

Gaspar shrieked. It reverberated into the marrow of Eurydice's bones.

Maybe it was self preservation, a need for revenge, or the instinct to protect her sithspawn companion, but something in Eurydice finally fought back. Her connection to the Dark side of the Force was warped and frayed, like a tangled knot with too many snapped threads.

However, in that moment, her body gave one last push against the Light's sting - the Dark roared into her veins like an antibody, and the girl haphazardly plunged herself into Diogo's mind.

Her skill wasn't refined; it was raw, unwieldy, and brutal. Above all, it was potent. A blunt intrusion into something personal, even sacred.

A quaking scream rose from somewhere deep in her ribcage as she sought anything that could hurt Diogo - snippets of memories were rifled through messily like papers that had once been in a neat stack.

Eurydice reached desperately for anything and everything that could be used as a weapon. The haunting wails of Tapani that bled into the fabric of the galaxy. The shame, perhaps, that he held from being born such a vile creature. Flashes of Necropolis, and the trauma that had been branded unto him.

Leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone leave me-

 

[Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra]

TYTHON​

---

"Projectile coming your way." Dynas called out, shifting his focus on bolstering the spot in the bullet's trajectory. A contingency should the strike find purchase against Connel's leg.

The drop pod slowed its descent with a pair of brake thrusters, gliding down before shaking the immediate floor with a thud. Dynas relayed a more precise set of coordinates to Connel's visual hud.

"Once Epyon is activated, let us pacify the threats enough to secure the cargo. Avoiding a prolonged encounter would be best." Dynas worked to allow his aura to guide Connel and steady his focus, doing the opposite to their foes, hoping to widen the window between them.

The drop pod's doors flung open with a pop, durasteel plates shooting off as the framing collapsed, revealing its contents. It was a droid, a bulwark of chromium and phrik in a kneeling position, it's power source idle with a faint hum. Inactive, but warned of great peril should the lights in its eyes burn.

ALLY: Connel Vanagor
FOES: Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound
​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Allies: Sethran Solivar
Opps: Tamsin Starfall

Cora's blade passed easily through the spirit's arm - though it was not without consequence. A blast of energy emanated from the severed stump, once again throwing Cora back.

This time, though, she managed to find her feet before being thrown into a wall. The pipes and some paneling weren't as lucky, clouding the hall with another injection of steam and more metal debris. Mission sort of accomplished, maybe.

Through it all, Cora could see Nyto's soft, violet outline diffused among the haze.

"Then why aren't you protecting the girl?"

The Jedi kept a grip on her saber, but she didn't advance. Not yet. Her gaze sharpened, a hawkish, quiet thing that settled on the Sith apparition as she spoke.

"Why did you listen to the witch, and pursue me?"

Then, Nyto sought to invoke something more intimate-

"She knows, she can reach someone close to you now."

That gave Cora reason to pause. A long pause, accompanied by the steady hiss of steam around them.

"Ah," she murmured, as if she'd only just made the realization now.

Then, she shrugged.

"He's dead to me."

 

[Sethran Solivar]

Tython Space Station • Corazona von Ascania and Tamsin Starfall ​

---

She fought. Hard, too. It was impressive in its own right because he knew, from experience, just how difficult it was to avoid being thrown away by such a blast. But in the end, she was thrown back. Whatever she had created, the invisible menace, ripped into walls and pipes, spilling all kinds of fluid onto the ground between them. He took note, assessing that his belief that if she'd struck, he'd be dead was correct. This thing was indeed a powerful opponent.

But he'd managed to pin her to the wall, despite her outbursts. This situation was difficult because he could feel that she, the actual child, was in pain from what he'd done. To say that didn't bother him would be incorrect. He hated himself for having harmed her. It was something he would deal with, but he also knew that he didn't have a choice. If he did nothing, he'd be dead and she'd go after Corazona, which would hinder the mission and possibly put others at risk. He had to keep her from doing anything else, even if it brought the girl pain. So long as she didn't die.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said in response to the words that clearly didn't come from the demon. "But I am going to make it so you can't be used to do further harm. I apologize for the pain it causes you, but it must be done."

Reaching out again, he pulled some of the damaged pipes from the wall and sent them at her, intending to wrap them about her hands in a way that would prevent them from moving. Even though he refused to fight to the death with her, he couldn't let her pose a continued threat, and so long as her hands were free, she would be one. He knew it wouldn't stop all abilities. It was likely she would be able to utilize attacks against him if her mouth remained uncovered, but he refused to cover it for fear it would suffocate the girl. Perhaps if he had a small enough piece of pipe, or something of that nature, he could make it she couldn't talk, but he did not.

And yeah, it was starting to get pretty cold in the corridor, so he was certain she still had tricks up her sleeve. He wasn't born yesterday.

"If I'm actually talking to the child, then you need to fight against the demon inside of you. If I'm not, well, it's a clever trick, but I'm not letting you go."

---

 

[Diogo]

Eurydice​

Diogo's sinewy proboscises tightened around the sithspawn companion, threatening to snap the little bird's bones. Tightening, tightening...

Then, ethereal steel flashed, sharp pain bit into his skull, and a psychic dagger drove through his mind. His world darkened. The proboscises went limp.

Still, Diogo was a fighter. Thick headed, to boot. He fought back, resisting the dark side influence at first, grasping at light that bled through the edges of darkness. He knew what this what and who was doing it. Yes, yes. The girl was finally fighting back. Showing her true nature. Outstanding.

A small, imperceptible tug at the corner of his mouth then. Something akin to a smirk.

He slowly turned to the girl, fighting and straining all the while, knowing he had to finish what he started. If only he could get his thick hands around her pale, slender throat. Hand outstretched, he took a step forward. Then another.

But it was no use. The dark side was too potent, all brutal and wild and unwieldy. He sank to his knees and darkness blotted out the world.

The girl's reach was indiscriminate. She grabbed it all in her desperation. Images swirled, flooded his mind, drowned his senses. Each of them so vivid. So real. The hauntings of the past dragged him under, trapping him beneath the waves. A prisoner of his own mind.

Tapani. Death, destruction. The unified, bloodcurdling scream of a million innocents.

Niamos. His Anzati father, feral and insatiable, feasting on the corpse of his mother.

"Mom... Dad..." His voice was shifted, high-pitched, breathy, youthful.

Necropolis. Anton Crowley, that centuries old Anzat, proboscises snaking up Eloise's nostrils. No... it was Diogo's proboscises now, assaulting, killing, the woman he loved. Still loved - somehow, some way, even though he'd ruined that like he ruined everything. Everything.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I... I'm the one who deserves far worse. Far worse. Me."

The images in his head were mixing now, and it was unclear who he was speaking to.

Diogo cried out, and his eyes swam in tears.

 

[Lohī]

Tython, Objective II
Tags: Lestra Thairk

Paperfolk​

He had to disturb the tourmaline somehow...so he tossed the emerald in, where it shattered on impact with the ground, before releasing the Force in the form of a sudden whirlwind that threw the tourmaline gems around the armoury, where on impact, the Force within them was released through crackles of electricity that bolted across the entire armoury.

Lohī stood in silence for a few moments, as though to wait for a chain reaction. After a while, she came to the conclusion that no such thing had occurred. A wide smile graced the Paperfolk's face.

"It seems things have gone splendidly," she concluded. "Well done, padawan. I would consider a day not concluded with a ball of fire to be a resounding success."

She stepped back in to assess the damage. Electronic equipment wafted smoke from now fried internal components, still left exactly where they had once stood. The woman would prod at a few with the tip of her umbrella, her tail swishing inquisitively behind her. Yes, it had seemed to do the trick. Fortunate that Lestra seemed to have so many abilities. It seemed there was still more in this world that she should strive to learn as well.

"Now then, it seems the hangar is all that remains ahead of us."

And the Sith in their truest form, not just soldiers.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Jalen Kai'el​

A voice resonated before the form took shape, echoing from the Wheel, and speaking of unsettled business between two aligned on opposite ends of the Force. Their previous encounter hadn't been long ago, or so it seemed, stretched thin everything that had unfolded since. The Jedi's connection to Cora scraped at him, and the beginnings of a question dared to surface.. before he shut it out.

In the beginning, he chose the solace of silence; his gaze never waned as he observed the other man before him. A sudden burst of heat followed; fire swallowed the exits in a single sweep, trapping him inside. Amid the chaos and the screams, if there had been any trace of fear in the air, none of it belonged to Lysander.

The vocoder of his helm flattened the words into something colder, stripped of sentient warmth.

“Do not trouble yourself with Ukatis. The hour you stepped inside this station, your grave was chosen."

Empty hands caught the eyes next. The activator of his curved hilt was thumbed off and clipped back into place. Most Sith would've scorned him for it, surely. But the promise of impact.. bone.. breath.. hand-to-hand.. that lit something in him that doctrine never could.

Weight shifted naturally, one shoulder sliding back as both hands rose into a relaxed low guard. With his chin tilted upward and unapologetic, the rear heel hovered just off the ground; his torso angled just off the centerline. The fire danced along the curves of his armor, painting it a golden hue; the static of his breath filled the space between them for several seconds longer.

“Come. Show me what you think will send me home.”

 

[Jalen Kai'el]

Tython, Objective I
Tags: @Lysander

Delta-7, Lothal Jedi Temple​

“Do not trouble yourself with Ukatis. The hour you stepped inside this station, your grave was chosen."

"Nah... I got something to live for," Jalen insisted, cracking his neck to the side as he stretched. "The future isn't written yet. Let's give the omens a rain check."

And putting away his blade? Perhaps he had seen Jalen's lack of a lightsaber as a challenge. It didn't much matter. For years now he had honed his martial arts talent, training under those who taught him to turn the fire of his hardship into calm. An inferno which rolled like the tides, no give and take but what he offered. He was ready for that struggle to be put to the test.

For service to his family.

He started at a walking pace. Then he ran. His bare feet began to leave a trail of fire behind him, streaking flames as he began to take stride. The Force guided the sightless knight as his pathing became unorthadox. A leap and he was running against the wall, then a jump to the other, his momentum and strength used in tandem to defy gravity but for a moment. It was from the left of Lysander that Jalen leapt from the wall to cross the final distance, throwing his first blow: A palm strike with curled fingers, one which was engulfed in flame. He would do what he had to do to take Lysander back to Ukatis alive, but how he did that was going to depend on the hand he was dealt. Jalen was ready to do what was necessary.

His first blow would be aimed at the face of Lysander's helmet. Strike the helm, rattle the head. His palm became hard as stone to match it.

 

[Mykel Dawson]

___________________________________________________________________

Objective: Sabotage Military Fuel Station
Allies: Jedi
Opposition: Sith
With: Akela Ru
Direct Opposition: OPEN

As the Togruta came down from her daring pivoting maneuver, her blade met nothing but empty air. The Sith Knight had expected such a flashy move from the trickster Jedi using Djem So, which is why the Niman master had conserved his free hand just for such moment, blasting off a Force Push toward the floor to instantly repulse himself up and away from the sweep of her blade as he curled his legs. The downward surge doubled as a crushing wave, rolling toward her in the same stroke to try and pin her to the ground or at least send her stumbling.

The trap had been sprung.

The Force Push was not just a momentary impulse but a sustained surge of telekinetic pressure. Twisting his hand, he used it like a thruster to whip himself around lightning fast midair to cleave his blade through her upper torso with only his momentum just before the growing gap between them became too wide to strike out at her.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Tython

Equipment:
Acolyte Attire | Lightsaber | ]Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

The flash detonated behind him and for a split second the Force fractured into white noise. Ace felt the distortion tear through his senses as the blast rippled across the cliffside. Loose stone ripped free from the rock face a heartbeat later, crashing across the narrow path as debris thundered down toward the surf.

He shifted immediately, feet grinding across the ground as he rode out the shock. Through the drifting dust he caught Connel already breaking down the path toward the hangar.

Connel's threats fell on deaf ears as Ace started forward. Then Arris's voice cut through, he didn't answer but his head turned as her revolver cracked through the narrow path. The Apprentice moved the instant the shot rang out, pressing forward through the falling debris, driving hard down the narrow path after Connel.

Then something heavy hit the ground. Hard. The impact rolled through the area like a muffled explosion. His eyes flicked toward the hangar approach for the briefest moment.

Whatever just arrived… was big.

Regardless, Ace drove forward again, blue blade cutting through the smoke and dust as he pressed down the collapsing cliffside passage. He should have known better than to try and get someone like Connel to just leave.

Arris Windrun | Connel Vanagor | Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra

​

​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Get the Frell off our home!
Tython
Outside Jedi Temple

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI and Nanotech included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • Throwing Lightknives
  • Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  • Spears of Ashla
  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

Stormlight fractured across the cliff path.

The shot came before the sound. A thunder-crack of accelerated metal split the air and slammed into Connel’s right leg like a hammer dropped from orbit. The impact twisted him sideways. Armor plating shredded.

The slug punched through the Ariel suit’s outer songsteel weave and bit deep into the muscle beneath. Pain detonated up his spine for a hot minute. For half a heartbeat the world tilted.

SERAPHIM flooded his visor with crimson warnings.

BALLISTIC IMPACT DETECTED
ARMOR BREACH – RIGHT LEG
CYBERNETIC STABILIZATION ENGAGED

Connel’s boot scraped stone. He should fall. He won’t.

The cybernetics in his leg lock and compensate, micro-servos firing like the recoil of a rifle. The Force poured into the limb a split second later, reinforcing bone and muscle with something older than pain.

He planted the foot again. The cliff trembled under anti-air fire overhead. Behind him, Arris Windrun’s revolver smoked in her hand. Ahead of him—Acier Moonbound is already charging through the drifting dust. Blue blade cutting the air.

Then the ground shook.

Not the cannon. Not the surf. Something heavier. A drop pod slammed into the stone ahead with a bone-deep WHUMP. Durasteel petals blasted outward as the housing split open. Steam hissed across the cliff path as the pod vented its descent thrusters.

Inside—A kneeling machine waited.

Chromium and phrik.

Massive. Silent. Its eyes dark. For now. Dynas’ voice hummed quietly through Connel’s link as he read on the HUD SERAPHIM’s analysis.

Projectile intercepted. Damage minimized.

A new coordinate blinked across Connel’s HUD. The path forward. The suit. The exit.

Acier pressed the attack.

Blue and Indigo crash together again as his blade swept toward Connel’s shoulder. The strike is hard, controlled, the kind meant to force a retreat rather than end a life. Connel felt it immediately. Still holding back. Even now.

Behind him Arris calls out.

“Finish this up.”

… basically.

The irritation in her voice is unmistakable. Connel exhaled slowly. The irritation in his mannerisms evident. Time to stop playing around. Ace’s attack was sent wide with a half-moon arc, Acier was not a threat to him, even Arris would see it..

Rain hissed across plasma blades.

Smoke curled through the shattered cliff path. His leg screamed under the armor. The mission clock ticked in his mind.

Holocrons.

Hangar.

Extraction.

Not this. Not here. Not with a kid pretending to be a killer. The decision landed. Ariel mode. Acier’s next strike came down hard.

Connel caught it and side-stepped his momentum. Now they were not “front and back” of him, but in the same spot..

Then the world moved.

A brutal surge of Force power exploded outward from him. The shove intended to hit Acier square in the chest like a durasteel battering ram. A push that would lift the kid off the ground if successful, and throw him backward down the narrow path—

Straight toward Arris.

Whether Ace would dodge it or not did not matter in the slightest, at the same moment Connel’s hand snapped to his belt. A matte cylinder arced through the rain.

Force-blinding flashbang.

But he didn’t throw it past them. He throws it at them. And halfway through the arc—Connel slammed it with the Force intending to stop the device dead in midair between the two Sith.

And detonate.

Light. Not light like a grenade. Light like a dying star. An explosion of blinding light that would tear through the Force itself if successful. One that would in turn hopefully make Arris’ cybernetic optics scream in overload. Flooding implants with cascading error signals as the burst scrambles every sensor and electronic channel in reach even if only for a moment or two.

An explosion that would be more than smoke or dust, one that would force Acier’s Force sense to fracture into white noise. Sight. Sound. Balance. Everything vanish for a heartbeat. If this worked.

If it didn’t? No matter.

In that heartbeat—Connel drew the Lightblaster.

The weapon roared. Bolts of condensed lightsaber energy erupted down the cliff path in a storm of burning arcs. He isn’t aiming for precision. He’s owning the corridor. Stone explodes under the barrage. Chunks of cliff shear free and tumble toward the surf below. Sparks cascade across the narrow passage like a rainstorm of molten metal.

Any attempt to return fire would probably become suicide.

Connel moved.

Not limping. Not hesitating. Running.

The damaged leg held under the cybernetics’ brutal correction, the Force reinforcing every step as he drove toward the smoking drop pod.

Dynas’ presence hummed quietly in his pouch.

Guiding. Steadying. The massive machine within the pod remains kneeling. Waiting. Dormant. For now. Behind Connel the smoke clears just enough to reveal two figures rising through the chaos. Acier recovering. Arris no doubt furious.

And somewhere in the distance—The hangar alarms begin to howl.

Connel didn’t look back.

Because he knew exactly what the scene looked like from the outside. Storm. Smoke. A wounded Jedi sprinting toward a dormant war machine while two enemies claw their way through the wreckage behind him. The kind of moment where the galaxy seems to pause.

Where someone watching might freeze the frame and hear the scratch of an old holotape rewinding.

Yep.

That’s me.

You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.

Connel Vanagor dove the final meters toward the open drop pod. And the dormant machine’s eyes begin to glow. Once Dynas was placed and settling in, Connel put away his blaster, and pulled his rifle back out. Time for some coverfire.

@Arris Windrum • Acier Moonbound • Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Ko Vuto]

Location: Tython
Tag(s): Valor the Forsaken | Madrona A’Mia | Anet Raine
Equipment: Standard Green Lightsaber | Spear of Ahsla

If Ko had teeth to grit he would. Not from their opponents, but because he could overhear some of his apprentice’s snark. It was clear that the boy needed discipline and if they weren’t killed by the Sith today Valor will wish they did when the Kel Dor was done with him.

But Ko couldn't worry too much on Valor’s own fight when there was a tree woman with murder on her mind going on the offensive, and a pyrokinetic neti wasn’t something he really expected to find here on Tython today. It was a skill that had always eluded the Kel Dor. One that several of his friends and mentors were able to utilize yet whenever he would attempt it, the ability manifested differently.

When they came for him with their new arms and punch dangers Ko ignited his vibrant green lightsaber in one hand. He’d had the misfortune of fighting four armed opponents before. A challenge he never really enjoyed since attacks could come at such rapid and unorthodox angles. Made even worse now that Ko only had a single arm and weapon to defend himself with. He let saber flow from one block to another, trying to keep his torso protected from her insistent attacks. He had an idea. One he didn’t much like, but might be necessary. Something he’d only done once before against vile Drengirs. But he couldn’t brainstorm tactics after feeling a sudden sting at his waist where he felt one of her blades suddenly cut him.

Surging himself back some with The Force to create a bit of extra space. He wanted to act fast so she doesn’t chase him down with a blast of force conjured flames. Holding up his hand he opened only his clawed thumb and index finger to keep his weapon from falling from his grasp. “My apologies, daughter of Myrkr…” He said solemnly before once again using the power of plant surge but this time directed solely at the Sith. Trying to overpower and control her body. Making it twist and blossom through The Force. ​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

The tendrils of fire slithered through the wreckage like serpents on the hunt.

Flat against the durasteel floor, breath held tight within his chest, Brandyn watched them creep closer through the shattered debris. The Sith had taken the bait, but the predator had not abandoned the den entirely.

Brandyn’s fingers slowly curled against the deck plating as he reached out with the Force again. Not toward the Sith. Not toward the tendrils. Toward the quiet little control box mounted low against the wall beside the ruined reception desk. It simply read: emergency systems. The sort installed in every fueling depot across the galaxy for one simple reason. Fire.

His will flicked the manual override. A sharp mechanical click echoed faintly through the room. For half a heartbeat nothing happened. Then the ceiling vents exploded open.

Pressurized fire suppression foam erupted downward in violent white torrents, flooding the chamber in an instant. Thick chemical clouds roared from the ceiling like a collapsing blizzard, swallowing flame, heat, and visibility in a suffocating tide.

Brandyn was already moving. The illusion he had cast into the hallway vanished like a snuffed candle the moment the foam erupted, its purpose fulfilled. At the same instant the Jedi surged upward, his body snapping into motion as the Force flooded his limbs.

He launched into a sprint. Nothing remotely graceful, simply fast.

A Force-assisted burst carried him across the room just ahead of the descending foam storm. Boots struck the deck once, twice, and then he slipped through the secondary doorway a split second before the suppression system fully drowned the chamber behind him.

The roar of the chemical deluge swallowed the room. He offered no glance to check if he would be followed. That much was clear.

The moment he cleared the threshold he leaned forward into another sprint, vanishing down the corridor in the opposite direction from the Sith’s hunt. His presence folded inward again as he ran, shrinking within the Force until he was little more than a whisper in a creaking, groaning station.

| TAG: Varin Mortifer |

​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila hadn’t expected Quinn to move closer. In truth, she hadn’t expected Quinn to move at all. This wasn’t part of the plan.

The Echani woman had always carried herself like the well trained warrior that her reputation stated, perfectly still until the moment it wasn’t. Bastila had learned that again and again since the first time their paths crossed. She thought she would have learnt by now.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the tome before stilling completely beneath Quinn’s touch and for just a moment she didn’t pull away.

The contact was light, with the usual level of careful softness that she was familiar with; which somehow made it worse.

Bastila’s eyes dropped to where Quinn’s pale hand rested against the back of her glove, her brow tightening faintly as if she were considering something complicated and wasn’t overly liking the options that were being laid before her. The proximity didn’t help either. Quinn had stepped close enough now that Bastila could feel the faint warmth of her breath near her ear, hear the subtle cadence of the Echani’s voice, smell the faint trace of perfumed aroma on the air.

It was dangerous and Bastila knew it. Not because Quinn was a Sith on a world now controlled by Sith. But because Quinn knew exactly how to make it feel like she wasn’t.

Bastila exhaled slowly through her nose.

“You’re very good at this,” she murmured, her words stuck between fact and frustration. Her gaze lifted slightly as Quinn’s cheek brushed near hers, emerald eyes studying the far wall of the archive rather than turning to face her directly.

The question was then asked and it lingered between them like time paused from reality. Which Bastila are you? For a long moment Bastila said nothing, she couldn’t, she didn’t want to. She wanted this moment to last, to never end. Yet she knew what she had to do.

Then Quinn finished speaking, and that quiet smile appeared.

That was when Bastila finally moved. Slowly, Bastila turned her head until they were close enough that only inches separated them. She attempted to hold herself, in a world like this where she already stood out like a flame to a moth in the dark she had to control her emotion. The Sith were creatures of habit and even the inkling of emotion from here would turn that flame into an inferno that would attract every single practitioner of the Dark Side to her.

Her voice, when it came, was lower than before.

“I have to do this,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked down briefly toward Quinn’s mouth before returning to her gaze. She lifted the book slightly between them, holding it just enough that Quinn would have to acknowledge it. “I am to retrieve several early Je’daii texts before the Empire or the Sith finish erasing them,” she said calmly. “That one happens to be on the list.”

She let the small pause build as the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth so very close to Quinn’s own. “…you’re standing between me and a successful mission.”

Silence settled between them again, Bastila’s bottom lip folding under her teeth as she tilted her head just slightly.

“And for the record,” she added quietly, “you’re the one who started this particular problem.” Her gaze drifted very deliberately towards Quinn’s lips this time before returning to her eyes. “That night on Cantonica?”

She leaned in, fast and sudden, her lips connecting with Quinn’s like a tidal wave. The sudden taste of every single meeting they had done so far, the promises, the teasing, the want…It all swam over her faster than she had intended and for just a moment she melted into it. Bastila let the moment hang there just long enough to be dangerous.

Then she lifted the book away from Quinn again. Yet she did not break away. Not yet, she wasn’t ready to. When she did she looked directly into those eyes.

Those damned eyes.

“The Bastila who gets what she wants…” she said, well aware that this may well still go very, very wrong.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Madrona A’Mia]

Deep Core
Tython
Overseeing Acolyte Anet Raine
Engaging: Ko Vuto | Valor the Forsaken
Gear (Armor acting autonomously)
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Dark, dreadful glee shone in her strange, pupil-less eyes as she danced in deadly rhythm with her opponent. The satisfaction of slicing him with a dagger was soon eclipsed but not before threads of darkness took hold on the wound to grip there like malicious, sentient spider silk.

The neti's lovely and unusually joyous face twisted then as she felt the unwelcome touch of another using the Force upon her. Riotous anger soon filled her, indignation and vitriol righteously feeding into the darkness she sought to weave about him in a web.

But her movements stuttered and jerked, A'Mia's arboreal form rippling and writhing horribly as her will warred with his. The Murakami Orchid core within her screamed a terrible psychic wail as if it were being torn in two under duress by not just one cruel master, but now two. In her wrath, A’Mia hurled the fire she still held at his feet and lurched to the side, seeking a bit of distance as she fought to maintain concentration on both her growing dark side web but also wresting control of her form back from him.