Skirmish THE BANNERLESS | Jedi Raid of TSC Held Tython

[Lysander von Ascania]

Jalen Kai'el​

Between Varin Mortifer and himself, there was an understanding, a bond that existed between men who had bled in the same dirt and walked away from the same pyres. From their days upon Korriban to the siege of Coruscant, their journey had been unforgiving, brothers in the truest sense of the word.

Positioned near the bulkhead, one hand hooked around a rail as he stared out of the viewport. Mayhaps the summoning arrived when a mind was already straying toward a particular individual, tangled in his own folly, forever the fool. The sight of the man’s rosary read like an omen. Prayers were not always gentle things; and in truth, he had suspected for some time that his former co-apprentice prayed with fire. Or summoned flames that devoured hope. That thought unlocked one of the many questions shadowing his mind.

So, a battle was to come..

In the quiet that gathered, a melody rose in his own throat, a tune that sounded older than he was, a song meant for no one. For a time, the notes wove themselves in the space between. A ritual that fit him. That was, until a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he scanned over the figure’s armor that was born of darkness.

“Whatever vermin thought to make trouble here..” The green in his gaze drained away, leaving only a molten hue. “We’ll defile them the moment they step into view.”

A slower pull of awareness settled on the cold helm against his palms, before sealing it like a tomb. The world narrowed into something much crueler. Whatever softness clung to him in quieter hours slipped away.

As he spoke through the vocoder, all warmth in his breath was removed, as it always was. “I’ll take only what is necessary and bless them with the violence they’ve been waiting for.”

Lysander exuded quietness, uncharacteristic to those who knew him better; the teen once abundant with words now had.. little to offer. A recurring pattern lately. What remained was a machine of singular focus, bound to outcomes, a blade the Covenant demanded.

______​

He stepped across the threshold with a squad of Nagai warriors. From the Threads which weaved in the currents he could feel their anticipation.

“Left flank, push to the corner,” he ordered.

Six of them advanced. They were waiting for permission to kill. And he would give them more than that soon. Even his own hand was begging for the curved hilt clipped to his belt.

“Right flank, lock down the rear corridor. Nothing follows us in.”

Boots struck the deck in an unhurried manner. At the next intersection, two fingers lifted to signal a halt. The station registered like an entity yearning for their arrival.

"There are hostiles ahead.. they are uncoordinated and weak."

His head swiveled in a warning; his standards were nothing if not severe.

“Advance. Leave nothing standing.”

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Holocron Heist
L O C A T I O N | Tython Jedi Temple Vault
W A R G E A R | Glyphscript Anvil | Crownsplitter | Dawnshield | Crown of Blades

Braze | Jonyna Si

O P E N​

Tython burned beautifully.

Above the world, the void was fractured by war. Starships tore at one another in orbit, the space station a blazing crown of artillery and ruptured hulls. Fire fell like artificial meteors toward the surface, streaking past the clouds as the ancient world prepared, once again, to remember what it was built for.

Within a commandeered Jedi temple, deep in its sanctified marrow, Prime stood watch.

The vault doors had been forced open days ago. Now its contents were being catalogued, crated, prepared for transport deeper into Sith dominion. Holocrons rested in reinforced containers, their crystalline geometry catching the low temple light in fractured rainbows. They hummed faintly. Whispered. Reached.

Dima plucked one up between her claws. She turned it this way. Then that. Five eyes narrowing as blue light flickered across her scaled features, The Force licked at her senses like curious flame.

She felt it...yet she deliberately ignored it.

"Shiny little baubles," she mused flatly, and dropped it back into the crate with a dull clack.

Knowledge. Secrets. Generations of preserved wisdom. The galaxy clawed itself bloody over such things.

Dima did not care.

If it did not bleed when struck or scream when broken, it rarely held her attention long. Let scholars and sorcerers squabble over whispers in boxes. She preferred clarity. Still, the tremor of bombardment overhead told her the temple would not remain quiet for long. The objective was obvious. These relics were bait dressed as treasure. If the Jedi were reclaiming Tython, they would claw toward the heart.

Which meant she did not need to hunt.

They would come to her.

That thought brought a slow smile to her face.

She barked orders to the Iron Clergy as they secured the crates, loading them into a specialized transport vehicle waiting beyond the vaulted corridor. Gold armor gleamed against ancient marble as they moved with reverent efficiency. For a fleeting moment, she considered requesting one of the holocrons as compensation. A decorative piece, perhaps. Something to sit on a shelf and glow ominously.

The idea amused her.

Static crackled across her comm.

"Lady Prime, it's as you anticipated. They've breached the temple. Making quite the entrance."

Dima rolled her shoulders, plates shifting with a low grind as she leaned casually against a marble pillar etched with Jedi scripture.

"What do they look like?" she asked.

A pause.

"...Young. Green eyes. White hair. Blue fire around him. Thought it was you at first, but no. He looks like he wants a challenge."

Her head tilted slowly from side to side.

"Oh really."

She scratched idly at the scales along her neck, considering.

"Ehhhh. Aight. It'll do," she decided. "Bring him to me. Unscathed, please. I want him at his best."

A beat.

"If he has friends, bring them too."

The channel clicked silent.

Deeper in the temple, flames licked along shattered stone as the Iron Clergy advanced. They did not strike. They did not intercept. Instead, two of them sank to a knee before the approaching figure Braze , golden helms bowed in deliberate respect.

When they rose, their spears angled not in threat, but in invitation, pointing down the long corridor toward the vault's heart.

"Prime awaits, champion," they intoned.

Behind them, Sith forces hissed in frustration, eager for blood, restrained only by doctrine and fear of denying the Warpriest her chosen spectacle.

At the corridor's end, within the vault chamber itself, Dima waited.

She had dismissed the last of the transport team, remaining behind like a sentinel carved from blasphemy and patience. Her massive tail was folded just so, coiled into a living throne upon which she lounged with unsettling ease. One leg crossed over her knee. A military cap adjusted neatly atop her head.

Five eyes fixed on the entrance.

Eager.

Let the boy with blue fire come.

Much better when the prey walks itself into the jaws.

 

[Mercy]

Allies: Srina Talon
Enemies: Lily Decoria Jasper Kai'el

Mercy was giving Srina a tour of the station hanging in orbit over Tython.

The itinerary contained a full list, which would end by touring Tython itself, showcasing to her fellow Empress the progress being made to convert the Jedi Temples into Sith structures. As they passed by a viewport, Mercy could clearly see the way the world had shifted in its nature in the aftermath of them conquering the planet from the Empire.

While the Empire had been run by an Emperor who also proclaimed himself Sith'ari, the nation at large had been primarily Imperial. Now the Covenant ruled and Tython had fully swung towards the Dark Side.

As a consequence it once again began to experience the kind of Force Storms it did every time that the Jedi lost control over it.

Almost like Tython itself cried out in agony... or as if it was screaming in fury. Tough to say.

"This is one of the many stations we are setting up." Mercy said to Srina as they walked. "It will allow us to penetrate deeper into enemy territory. Worlds like Balmorra and Commenor are waiting for us, without these stations it will be much more difficult to set-up operations."

She was about to say more but then-

The power went out.

Mercy blinked as the lights went out right afterwards.

"Hm, that is not supposed to happen..." Mercy said with a touch of confusion as her gaze began to bleed into amber. Annoyance turned to anger, there would be heads that rolled for this interference. It made her look bad in front of Srina, which was the last thing Mercy desired. "Let's return to the bridge, darling sister. See what this ruckus is about."

She had virtually no investment in Force Sense. So she had no idea that turning a few corners, they'd be cut off from the bridge by the appearance of Lily and Jasper.

"If you wish, you can hold on to me, the dark holds no secrets from me." Offering her elbow to Srina, if she so desired. Her physical instincts and senses began to rise as she channeled the Force.

Now she began to hear the bounding of footsteps, approaching fast.

"Odd, why would they run that fast..."

 

[Sethran Solivar]

Along with the many present, he listened to what was said of their mission. It seemed simple, but every mission that seemed such ended up being vastly more difficult than anticipated. For him, he anticipated a heavy Sith presence. It was doubtful that they would leave Tython, essentially the birthplace of the many orders, unattended. He figured that they would wind up fighting.

For this mission he was paired up with another Jedi, a Corazona von Ascania. He did not know her, but she was the one who gave the briefing so he was certain that she would prove quite competent.

The two of them made their way down a dimly lit corridor. The air was cool, cold even. A sense of impending doom washed over him and he shivered as he glanced back behind them. Was someone following them? No, he didn't feel anything. No one was immediately after them, so perhaps it was something coming for them soon? He didn't like not knowing when they would strike. It put him on edge, but he calmed himself, focusing on the task they were assigned rather than fretting over the inevitable.

"We knew they would come for us eventually."

They'd known before they even set foot on the station. There were too many practitioners of the dark in the galaxy. Their numbers always seemed to be swelling. Given they were attacking a station owned by a dark entity, they were destined for trouble.

"Just keep leading the way. I'll watch our back."

Corazona von Ascania and Tamsin Starfall

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Get the Frell off our home!
Tython
Undisclosed Location

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

Connel cleared the coastal ridge fast. Smoke drifting. Inland alarms building. If they were not sending reinforcements, the Sith knew that someone was coming. Mid-run he reached to swap a spent Spear of Ashla and—a pulse.

Not dark.
Not hostile.
Just… there.

He paused mid-stride, fingers brushing something cool and faceted in a side pocket. He blinked once behind the mask. …You’ve got to be kidding me.

He drew it out. A deep blue crystalline shard no larger than his thumb segment glowed faintly in the moonlight. The Force around it is calm. Old. Centered. Ancient. Connel exhaled slowly, it was Master Dynas, they had never met, but he knew via reputation. Oh yeah, he muttered under his breath. Forgot about you. Sorry.

Dynas hums softly. In response? Not words. Not exactly. Agreement? Approval? Or possibly amusement? Connel slid the shard into a more secure inner pouch. Then— He pulled inward. Ariel mode shifted.

He narrowed his presence in the Force, not vanishing, but compressing. A technique Caltin drilled into him for years. Instead of dimming his Light, he focused it. A needle instead of a lantern.

The aura around Dynas folded into that compression. To Sith senses(hopefully)? There is only one presence. Controlled. Focused. Singular. Dynas would disappear from their perception like a note folded into harmony. And if Dynas noticed? He hopefully would not resist. He’d hopefully align.

Back on track, he went to move, but stopped suddenly. The “obvious” path is the hangar. Which means the Sith are waiting for it. Sith Covenant defenders are paranoid, not foolish. They will assume the objective is the holocron shuttle. They will reinforce the hangar, lock blast doors, position Force-sensitives, maybe even booby trap the craft.

So if Connel just walked into that funnel? He’s playing their board. Ariel doesn’t play their board. He flips it. So, time for his idea. the inland AA site sits higher than the coastal pair. Carved into stone. Reinforced durasteel plating. It overlooks the valley leading to the Master’s Retreat hangars.

Perfect kill corridor.

Which means it’s also the perfect lever.

Connel approached from below the ridgeline, moving through scrub and shattered temple masonry. The Ariel armor dampens sound so this would work. The UAD drone floated ahead at low altitude, feeding him terrain overlays through Seraphim.

Three troopers on exterior rotation. Two inside the control housing. One heavy repeater covering the eastern slope. Six.

Manageable.

He didn’t ignite a blade. The first trooper died confused. A lightknife whispered across the gap and punched through the seam below the helmet. The body fell forward without ceremony. Connel caught it before it hit stone and lowered it gently.

The second got a gloved hand across the mouth and a short indigo flash through the rib seam. Night extinguished before the body finished collapsing.

The third heard something. He turned. The lightblaster coughed once. Precision. Inside the housing, the tech crew never heard the exterior shift. Connel slipped through the side maintenance hatch instead of the main entry. Shadow doctrine.

One tech looked up from the targeting console. Connel’s gauntlet edge smashes into his jaw. The second reached for an alarm.

Force pull.

The man stumbled forward into Connel’s waiting elbow. Silence. Breathing slowed. The AA battery remained online. Still tracking. Still reporting. Still “operational.” That’s the point. He knelt at the console. Dynas, he murmured quietly, not looking down. You feel this?

A faint harmonic pulse hummed from his inner pocket. Was that Dynas? Hopefully. The machine is tense. Rigid. Built to destroy. Connel slotted the slicer spike into a maintenance port. Seraphim flickered in his HUD. Hopefully Dynas was able to do something.

Uplink established.
Awaiting command override.

He doesn’t blank the screen. He doesn’t scramble the IFF codes wildly. He edited. Surgically. Launch vector recognition adjusted. Targeting priority table modified. Delayed authentication handshake inserted into outgoing fire commands. If a specific transponder launches from the hangar… If a specific altitude is reached… If a specific approach angle is used…

The AA battery will fire.

Not immediately.

Not suspiciously.

Clean. Automatic. Inevitable. And until that moment? The system reports green across the board. Connel wiped the console with a cloth patch, removing any trace of intrusion. The spike remained buried deep in firmware, disguised as a routine patch.

He stood. The dead techs were repositioned in their chairs like they simply slumped from fatigue. He stepped outside. The repeater still scanned the horizon. The cannon still rotated lazily. Nothing looked wrong. Everything was wrong.

He paused at the ridge and looked toward the distant hangars of the Master’s Retreat. The Sith believe they control the air. They believe they control the exits. They do not realize one of their own guns now answers to a different future. He tapped his comm, voice low.

[Battery three remains operational.] A beat. [Operational,] he repeats.

Somewhere in the Force, he felt something. Approval. Not of sabotage.Of restraint. Connel doesn’t burn the world. He tilts it. Then he moved downslope toward the next phase, having left behind a fully functional anti-air platform…

With a Vanagor’s fingerprint hidden in its bones. And he moved inland before the response force even realized the cliff line had already fallen.

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

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn long ago had begun to trust his instincts when it came to knowing if his cover had been blown. Even as the Sith looked past him, he could feel the recognition subtly tugging at the strands of the Force that connected even Sith and Jedi. But he did not move. He did not reveal himself.

Instead, Brandyn waited for the Sith to turn. Then his soundless, practiced movement was barely a gentle breath's worth of disturbance to the environment. He fell into a crouch behind the desk just a half-beat before the Sith turned and fire erupted through Brandyn's old locale, washing over the furniture. Brandyn felt the heat nip at his shoulders, but he did not flinch. Instead, he held the shadow of an illusion in the middle of the room where he had just been.

Then, the shroud dropped. The illusory shadow evaporated as the enemy's weapon struck through it, and Brandyn stood, using the Force to hurl the severed half of the table towards the Sith.

In the moment of distraction, he stepped into shadow once more, his presence splitting in two. A subtle figment darted left, while Brandyn—hunched within the light-bending secrecy of his illusion — moved right, taking the long way toward the door behind the Sith.

| TAG: Varin Mortifer |

​

 

[Teev]

| Location | Tython​

| Objective | Dawdle​

​

The man was partly startled by the sudden feeling of a blade against his throat, snapping him out of his confused daze as they tried to get a glimpse of the person holding a knife to their throat out of the corner of their eyes, stammering as they tried to speak, "I-it was a J-J-Jawa, I think...I don't know. It went that way. That's all I know I swear!" He pointed with the hand holding the holocron, aiming their index finger down the corridor that Teev disappeared through.​

​

Teev continued to wander off in the remains of the desecrated Tython temple, walking as if they belonged there and humbling those who decided that today was the day to trifle with a Jawa. A trail of their victims writhing on the ground in agony, clutching their shins, crying for their mothers, was left in the wake of the all-powerful Jawa.​

​

Teev didn't have a particular destination in mind, just casually strolling through the ancient halls as their gaze wandered all over, taking in the architecture and sightseeing. They were out of place, but at the same time walked as if they belonged there all along.​

​

[ 0-7 ]

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Romi Jade
​

The station shuddered underfoot, the raid already well underway as Lily moved on silent feet, keeping close to the walls, the weight of the quarterstaff in her hands a comfort for the nerves that had twisted her stomach till she was sick. She had been on Coruscant, she had seen what the Covenant could do. Any sane person would have turned the other way and found somewhere other than here to be.

But she was tired of running from Sith, from the war. Darkness pressed in from all corners of the Galaxy, try as she might to ignore it, soon, there would be nowhere left to run. So she’d answered the call and now she was sneaking through a fuelling station with two objectives.

Cripple everything she could get her hands on.

And steal even more.

She paused, crouching as movement shifted across the corridor ahead of her. It was too dark to see if it was friend or foe before it was gone. Lily let out a breath, this would have been a whole lot easier with Vess Sadragen watching her back. She made a mental note to call her if she was smart enough to survive this ridiculous quest.

Lily checked the holoprojector on her wrist, the map flicking back to life. The mainframe for the control centre a blinking target as she checked her route for the tenth time before turning it off and rising with a quiet breath along the corridor.