Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Skirmish THE BANNERLESS | Jedi Raid of TSC Held Tython


Tython, Objective II
Tags: Teev Teev

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NK-Witell-class Freighter, 0A-155, Songbird (lightsaber), Vibrosword

Oh, right... Jawaese. Did her universal translator implant even have that in there? A quick internal check quickly determined that the answer was no. She did not. That was going to make communication far more difficult, so she defaulted to the hand signs of the Tusken people alongside her spoken words, hoping the Jawa may know a few of the signs from their homeland... if they were even a Tatooine Jawa.

"You carry something that causes suffering," she spoke in a cold, direct tone. "I would like to offer you an ultimatum."

Fighting was possible, but Seven had grown rather tired of the whole heartless trade of taking life and such. She desired a different outcome. Perhaps he could be bartered with. After all, Jawas were business oriented.

"You seem to be capable of causing my allies and my enemies great pain alike," the former assassin stated. "If you stand to harm my allies I will be forced to act appropriately to address such a threat. I would, however, like to suggest an exchange of equivalent value. I would like to see that harm be wielded upon the Sith."

And if not, she was about to have a battle she was certain she would never forget.


 

Tythin, Objective II
Tags: Lestra Thairk Lestra Thairk

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Paperfolk

"Don't worry about me," Lohī insisted with an airy laugh and a wave of her hand. "You're the one who's taken a blaster bolt. We'll be sure to get you assessed back on the Grafted into Stone."

Padawans were curious things. Some were so eager to ignore pain and keep trucking. Then again, perhaps that is what made good Jedi. Lohī didn't experience much 'youth' on account of her 50 year long development period. They were certainly spirited.

The Paperfolk turned and gently urged the doors of the armory open with the Force, stepping in to take in all that had been stashed away in this place. Guns, vibroswords, explosives, the whole nine yards. Lohī didn't much care for the more advanced weapons folks seemed to use, but they were interesting to look at. Almost artistic, in a strange way, though more absurdist to her gaze.

"They have quite the collection," she mused, her tail swaying behind her. "I'm no good with technology I'm afraid. Wildly inexperienced unfortunately. Have an idea of which is the most volatile? We'd surely want to remove that first. I just can't make heads and tails of all of these things."

They all just look cut from the same chaotic cloth to her.


 


TYTHON




Dynas kept silent for much of the exchange, sighing only when the prospect of verbal negotiations broke down with their oppositions opening strike. There was restraint he sensed within the strike, from how the presence shifted in the force and the tremors he felt in the air.

"Interesting. Allow me." Dynas hummed as he attuned himself with the force, a harmonic tone resounding as he made ripples within the Force. He radiated a slowly growing aura that bolstered Connel's prowess, with the intent to reduce their opposition's.

His presence in the force now was unmistakable, a beacon of light that poured from Connel's pouch.

"Should the need arise. I have marked the location of the next objecti...I mean the location of where my suit will drop. I hope we do not resort to it, but I will provide a more physical presence if needed. All you need do is jam me into the center port once we reach it."

He pinged the coordinates, displaying a map on Connel's HUD, a splashing sound effect followed with a caricature of Dynas marking the location, just on the fringes of the hangar's mouth, where an orbital drop may reach.

ALLIES: Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor
FOES: Acier Moonbound Acier Moonbound Arris Windrun Arris Windrun

 


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Objective: Sabotage and Steal
Tags: Romi Jade Romi Jade

Lily froze as someone shifted out of the shadows, heart hammering in her chest as they made a deliberate step into the light. They knew she was here, whoever they were, her weight shifted stance subtly shifting ready for a possible punch and run.

Instinctively she reached out in the force, scanning for the darkness that normally emanated from a Sith but instead she found a light calm centre. The tension eased briefly in her shoulders and she stepped away from the wall.

“Friendly.” she called back, raising her free hand, quarterstaff resting idly at her side.

“Heading for the control centre. Sabotage and steal.”

The floor trembled beneath their feet, the lights flickering again.


 



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Theme: Back From The Dead
OBJ: Station Sabotage
Equipment: Twin Omens | Multi-Tool | Stars Enchained | Mind Crown | Wrist Lanvarok
Tags: Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania | Sethran Solivar

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The Demon chuckled a little at the barbs Cora traded with her before taking off. In small sense the demon took a bit of pride, in Cora choosing to cut and run. Though the Demon that was once known as Tegan was not done with the Blonde child Darth Priss just yet. She had a few knew tricks thanks to the girl's skin she squirmed in.

As Sethran Solivar tried to goad her by insulting her attempt to blind him she reached up to the amulet hidden under her cloak. As she did, she whispered to the amulet. "Darth Nyto, step forth. Stop the blonde one." As she said it the amulet lit up with a vibrant violet hue. For a second a ghostly apparition appeared at her side. The Apparition stood a good foot taller than the demon in a dark cloak. Yet as soon as it appeared it vanished in a whisp of ghostly smoke.

Like the wind it moved leaving a chilling breeze in the air as it took after the Blonde it was commanded to stop. Then the Demon's sights returned to the jedi before her. Even as he steadied his stance and ignited his saber her stare burned through him. Her left hand stretched out to the side of her and a violet ichor began to pour out of the palm of her hand as she slowly clinched it into a fist. It swirl both up and down from the bottom and top of her fist.

"First, all is fair in war, I command all forces of nature living and dead." The violet ichor began to form into the shape of a spear the tip aimed for the floor. "So, I will utilize everything in my arsenal." The spear began to solidify.

"Second, I have killed trillions in my long life. Some of them were no doubt children." There was no sadness or regret in her voice as she spoke those words. The demon felt nothing for those they had killed, casualties of the eternal war she fought with fate itself. As spear of midnight came into full solidification, she slammed the tip down to the ground and little a smirk across her face again.

Then her little legs accelerated propelling forward with great speed as the tip of the spear dragged on the ground. As she did the floor began to form fissures and cracks in the durasteel. Then she brought the spear up to her other hand and with both hands she plunged forward towards the Jedi's abdomen. As she did, she spoke out with revelation. "But the child in this body is very much alive." It would be hard to tell as the demon and the child Tamsin's soul were overlapped almost indistinguishable. Coded in Dathomiri Magick and the science of cloning binding them together.

The Phantom of Darth Nyto stalked through the corridors using the web the Demon had constructed to hunt their prey Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania . Nyto did not tire as she sped through the tunnels coming across the first cut line, the sith sorceress sneered. Yet it knew it was just behind its target, Nyto thought for a moment as she remembered the demon mentioning a storm.

"Okay let's play a game of the floor is lava." The apparition knelt down and placed a hand on the floor. As it did a lightening blast shot out from it's palms trailing down the corridors towards it's target.



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Diogo
Eurydice's eyes widened to an almost comical, watery degree. Yes, she was always worried about the status of her own life.

Yet, she couldn't escape. Wouldn't escape.

It was tempting to let down her guard, even if this interloper seemed to soften just a fraction on her.

But, Darth Nefaron had convinced her that kindness was a lie. That any Sith who showed it to her was angling to take advantage of her weakness and naivety. Her life among these monsters had been one held breath, one careful step after another.

"I don't…know what a Jedi should feel like," she confessed. "I've never met one."

Oh, he probably thought that she was a little idiot. That wasn't too far from the truth, really.

"Just that…I thought Jedi were supposed to feel…calming?"

Then, he turned her observation back onto her. She didn't look like a Sith.

"I don't-"

Eurydice stopped herself from revealing too much, even if her repulsion was obvious. Any morsel of information could be sharpened and turned against her like a blade.

Instead, she heaved a sigh that had her shoulders almost sagging. "I know that I don't look like a proper acolyte. But I cannot let you take the entirety of this cargo, so please-"

With her hands still raised and her eyes still on Diogo, the girl shuffled closer to the crate. One hand lowered, slow and purposeful, to the lid, then slid it open.

She retrieved a single holocron, a stylized cube etched with runes, and held it out to him in offering

"Please, just take this and leave me be.”

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Descending beneath the old temple was easier than Master San Tekka hoped. Most of the Sith were outside dealing with an incursion on the landing pad and disguising his movements from their servants proved trivial enough. He walked past a pair of sentries who did not even notice thanks to a simple mind trick.

Every time this place was destroyed and rebuilt the catacombs grew a little deeper. Remnants of forgotten orders once scattered all over but now mostly pillaged by Sith warlords. Zark tried to remember the way, yet it had been many years ago. Confident he would not run into any patrols down here, the Jedi Master bore his Spear of Ashla aloft to light the way.

At last he recalled enough to reach the hidden vault. With a wave of his hand the wind gusted past eroding enough dust to reveal carved hieroglyphs. Master Zark considered the ancient puzzle lock when his enhanced senses picked up a slight disturbance. He listened to his surroundings and could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.

"Hello there."

His hand drifted towards the lightsaber on San Tekka's belt. He did not turn away from the vault, curious to see what this other presence would do.
 

Diogo

Guest

"Surik's blade," he breathed. "Seriously?"

Her naivety and watery eyes were some unholy combination of endearing and pathetic. It knocked on the door of his breastbone a little, truth be told. Why was he feeling that way for a Sith?

"Most of them are calming," he assured her. "I'm just not like other Jedi."

Diogo's gaze drifted away, to nowhere in particular.

"I was born something of a monster," he said, his throat thick and scratchy. "But I try my best not to stray from the light, to not give in to my baser instincts. I try to be good."

After a few moments, his gaze drifted back to her.

Then, the girl's repulsion to his observation was plain as day, but still - she didn't let her guard any lower. Perhaps she needed a gentler hand. Perhaps he could've gotten her to open up eventually. But it was no use, he was running out of time and couldn't risk jeopardizing the mission. It was too important. Bigger than just the two of them.

Cooled ochre eyes watched as she shuffled to the crate.

"Fine," he sighed. His voice was sad. Forlorn, even. He had no choice.

Diogo extinguished his blade and clipped the hilt to his belt. He drifted forward like a ghost, and put his one free hand on the offered holocron, its etched runes glowing dully.

"Thanks, and uh... I'm genuinely sorry about this."

Without hesitation, he tightened his grip around the Spear of Ashla and thrust it toward her gut.
 

Before the next sound reached his ears, a pressure pulsed through the corridor ahead. As the realization crystallized in his mind, something pressed forward with uncanny speed, coiling around the legs and other armor joints. Being the warrior that they were, they even reacted in ways that suggested training. Rifles shifted, some even drew blades.. but something faster caused them to be swallowed by darkness, one by one. The kind of strength that mocked physics.

What struck Lysander as strange was that he could still feel their life energies, yet to be taken by fate's cruel hand. This was the mark of Jedi intervention, he reminded himself. Perhaps too, it was a reflection of navigating the Core Worlds, where such encounters were a frequent haunt.

Furthermore, there was a familiarity to it, gnawing at the edge of memory, promising that the past and present were somehow entwined.. in ways he had yet to unravel.

A hand closed around the curved hilt at his belt and he drew it. The sound that left it was a low exhalation of energy as the crimson blade unfurled. The walls around him were painted in that blood colored light as he stepped forward.. an omen that only death would follow.
 
Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka
Sevrin had eased into a darkened alcove near the vault’s entrance and nearly stilled his breath as the old master revealed himself. Pale blue eyes followed the man’s hand toward his saber, and that caught his interest; he tried to make out its details within the dark.

Once greeted, Sevrin stepped slowly to the edge of the light cast by the Spear of Ashla. It spilled across the stone between them while he moved along its perimeter in a measured prowl, never quite crossing fully into it, as though testing the boundary, and the reach of the man who stood within it. The man’s voice carried age in it… not weakness, but years, the weight of a long life, enough to tell Sevrin what the dark had not yet confirmed: old… though still dangerous. Then the rest of him came clearer within the glow. He was unmistakably aged, perhaps more than twice Sevrin’s years, yet there was nothing diminished in the way he carried himself. Time had settled upon his appearance: weathered and unshaken. That made him exceptionally dangerous, and someone Sevrin should approach with caution.

He did not answer at once, nor did his empty hands drift toward the hidden sabers at his person. Instead he prowled the edge of that light, keeping to its boundary.

“If you meant peace, your hand would not be near your blade,” he said at last, low and rough. Pale eyes remained on the saber, then lifted to the man’s face. “If you meant violence, I would not be hearing your voice first. Either you are very certain of what waits in the dark… or you do not fear it. Tell me, old man… does clutching that precious Light make you feel safe?”
 
Ally: Srina Talon Srina Talon
Enemies: Lily Decoria Lily Decoria | Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el

She hissed through her teeth when Srina's power pushed into her.

It would never get old for her. That feeling of having the dam overflow before it broke under the pressure of more being given to her. It always made Mercy think she'd explode, that it would rip her apart and take everything with her. Somehow she managed to contain that furious cackling energy inside of her however.

And each time Srina offered her power, Mercy was hungry for more.

"I feel them." Mercy confirmed as her senses sharpened, amplified by her sister's strength. "Odd, that they would come here."

"Or…"

"Shall we let them wonder what they've found?"


The Empress tilted her head to let her temple rest on Mercy's upper arm…

And smiled.

She leaned down and kissed Srina on her head.

"Usually I am not one to make guests wait..." Then a grin as amber eyes flicked up right as the Jedi turned the corner and their little group became officially complete.

"But apparently they already came to us. How sweet." Mercy cooed softly while straightening out of the casual slouch. It made her seemingly grow. Like a mountain unfolding itself until she was looming over them. "Two Jedi walk into a dark shadowy space station and meet two Sith Empresses..." The large woman tilted her head. "That seems like the start of a joke."

Then she gestured towards the Jedi.

"You have come to brighten my day, I see. I haven't torn through a Jedi's throat in quite some time. Come then, show us what you are made of."

Once upon a time Mercy would have been bounding towards the duo herself. But she was older, wiser now. Something that was tough to admit, because then she'd have to acknowledge growth and becoming more responsible. Still a sickening prospect. However, it meant that Mercy didn't jump into the fray immediately.

Not as often anyway.

She was... happy enough to watch their moves while Srina's touch was overfilling her with strength.
 


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The archives had the particular stillness of a place that had been abandoned by time rather than by choice. To the Jedi Tython’s old temple did not feel dead yet, it just felt; injured.

Or at least that is how it had felt for Bastila as she moved through the aisles with the caution of someone who had no desire to wake it from its slumber.

Her cloak had been pulled tight around her shoulders, dark fabric catching against the corners of cracked stone tables as she passed. A small satchel hung at her side, already heavier than when she had arrived. Several of the older volumes she had taken were wrapped in cloth and carefully packed away. The Underground had been very specific about what they needed when they had joined in on this Jedi raid; early Je’daii texts, pre-Reformation philosophy, anything referencing Force convergence points. She wasn’t entirely in on the plans of Romi and Briana, but they were doing something with these things.

Things Bastila was not particularly comfortable having in her hands, but it was better then leaving them to the burning of the Covenant as they swept through the core.

Her gloved fingers slid another narrow volume from a leaning shelf, eyes scanning the title etched into its spine. The leather cracked softly under the pressure. Balance Doctrine: Ashla/Bogan Era. The meaning was lost on her, she had never been one to hit the texts so to speak, at least not within her Jedi training.

“Good,” she murmured under her breath and the book slipped into the satchel. She was turning to move deeper into the archive when the Force shifted.

Not like an attack, more like it was enough of a shift to raise the fine hairs along the back of her neck. Bastila froze.

The presence came a moment later, it was sharp, familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten before her mind had fully caught up with the recognition. Her nerves already on edge.

Her hand drifted instinctively toward the hilt at her belt.

Then a voice carried through the quiet hall.

“Why are you here…?”

Bastila’s eyes lifted slowly toward the archway across the chamber.

For a long second she simply stared. Of all the places in the galaxy. Of all the times.

“…No…Why are you here?”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Bastila stepped out from between the tall shelves, the dim temple light revealing her fully now. The satchel at her side shifted with the movement, several book spines faintly visible beneath the cloth wrap.

Her expression was somewhere between disbelief and irritation.

“You're not meant to be here, you’re meant to be in Sith Space?” She let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh if the situation were even slightly amusing. “This is not…”

Bastila stopped herself, shaking her head once. “I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t exactly the kind of ridiculous timing the Force seems to enjoy.”

Her arms folded loosely across her chest. Her brow lifted slightly. “Why are you here?” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the stack of tomes Quinn had been working through. Then back to the Echani princess.

“You’ve never exactly struck me as the ‘quiet afternoon in an abandoned Jedi archive’ type.”

A pause settled between them. The familiar tension was there almost immediately; the strange gravity their encounters always seemed to carry.

Bastila tilted her head slightly.

“So,” she said. “How about I just take this and we don’t make this into the start of a very complicated problem?” She muttered, reaching for a nearby book.






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OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

 

Tython, Objective I
Tags: Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania
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Delta-7, Lothal Jedi Temple

The sound that left it was a low exhalation of energy as the crimson blade unfurled. The walls around him were painted in that blood colored light as he stepped forward.. an omen that only death would follow.

Jalen left those he had pulled away unconscious, there in the hall. He stepped forward into the red light, unchilled by the omen of death. He had no eyes for which to see it, so no promise would reach him. The limitations of sight did not bind him, instead all the healer felt was the Force. It showed who lay before, and once more he was weary. A breath escaped his lips as he prepared himself for what was to come.

"You again," he observed, rubbing at his shoulder. "Suppose that's my luck... or whatever the hell you wanna call it."

He procured no weapon. Instead, fire rose up to block the halls in both directions, the long corridor to be their battleground. As he prepared a martial artist's stance, flames danced around his hands. Once, when he witnessed that force destroy his home, he feared fire with all of his heart.

Now it was his to command.

"If you give me the chance... I'm dragging you back to your sister on Ukatis," Jalen told him rather bluntly. "So best put forward a good effort."

If he returned to Ukatis it was not Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania he had to fear. It was the wrath of a new generation that knew fear at the hands of the Sith, their homes torn by cruel powers that played on their planet as though it were a sandbox. Their lives as insignificant compared to that which their assailants' ilk held in higher regard. Lysander had said it himself...


“I would let them suffer again, if it meant killing King Horance once more.”

Vengeance for his sister that she didn't choose. An action that left the children to suffer.

That should not have been his choice to make.


 

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Location: Tython

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The shove was fast and Ace's boots skidded half a step as Connel's shoulder checked into him, the short Force pulse folding neatly into the impact. It looked like a stumble to anyone watching. He played the part.

His lightsaber snapped back up between them as their blades met again and Connel's voice cut through the storm. Ace didn't answer, he couldn't, not yet. Their blades slid apart and met again in tight arcs, the exchange fast and controlled. Form V pressure met with the brutal efficiency of someone trained to end fights in corridors and choke points. Connel moved like a soldier clearing rooms: angles tight, strikes economical, never wasting motion.

Ace matched him without giving ground, he didn't taking it either. Arris's voice drifted in from behind them, then he felt her vault over them - her movement passing through the Force like a metallic ripple.

He turned up the pressure a little more now, pushing forward with a sharp diagonal strike. Ace felt something else too, a harmonic ripple that moved through the air like someone had plucked a cosmic string. It was pure, pure enough that it almost burned against the oppressive presence of the Covenant forces surrounding them.

His eyes flicked briefly toward Connel's pouch. Huh?

The source revealed itself a heartbeat later as the aura spilled outward from the Jedi's pouch. Ace masked the reaction by attacking again, initiating a brief blade lock. Up close, his voice dropped low enough that only Connel would hear it beneath the storm.

"Picked the worst day to show up."

He broke the lock soon after that, now initiating and leaning into the next exchange harder - making the clash look brutal from a distance.

Arris was nearby, probably still watching.

"Save the threats for someone weak." He said, feigning arrogance "You're child's play."

His blade snapped downward in a heavy strike meant to force Connel's guard low. From the outside it looked like he was finally trying to break him. Up close, the opening it created pointed directly toward the path Arris had just taken toward the hangar.

If Arris decided she wanted to help? Well, there was nothing more he could do to try and save him and... whatever's in his pouch.

Arris Windrun Arris Windrun | Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor | Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra
 

Tags: Lohī Lohī
Objective: 2

"I'm fine. Ain't nothing broken. Sore, yeah. But I can get through it.

Lestra gave a dismissive wave of his hand at that. Though for all of his bravado, the Padawan couldn't exactly power through his limp, as he followed Lohi into the armoury. There was a lot of gear in here that just filled Lestra with disgust. He wasn't much of a technolgical fan himself. He knew how it worked, but he leaned more towards the natural. Almost as soon as Lohi had finished speaking, Lestra stepped forward, reaching into his robes to pull out another ruby, ready to prep the armory to blow...before hesitating.

"...Chit. No. Blowing this place up isn't the right idea."

That had been his original plan this entire time. To set the place up to blow and destroy all of the weapons. But now that he was here? He couldn't imagine damaging the temple more than it already was. If they even managed to get this place back, there was already plenty in the spiritual that would need to be fixed. It would be perhaps better for him if he didn't add more to the physical aspect. That meant he'd have to figure out another way to deal with the explosives. Those were the biggest problem.

"Not sure if any of my little tricks will work...Fire is a no...Water? No. Most of the casings would be waterproof...Wind would be useless...Could try something electrical...But if it's an electrical pulse, that could trigger them to go off..."

The Padawan muttered away to himself, as he flicked different gems between his fingers. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, tourmaline...He wasn't sure which of them would be the best answer...​

 

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Allies: Sethran Solivar
Opps: Tamsin Starfall Tamsin Starfall

It would never be so easy, Cora knew. Not with that witch around, and not even with another Jedi to occupy her.

Still, she let adrenaline carry her focus. With the first pipe down, she searched for the coordinates of the second, following the blinking markers of the holomap as it updated in real time.

Just as she’d come upon her mark, the hairs at the back of her neck stood pin-straight. A chill ghosted against her spine, cutting through even the fortified weave of her robes.

Cora had only moments to react. Cut the pipe, or face down this new threat?

“The floor is-“

A vicious flow of energy surged towards her, just as she’d turned her back to the pipes. Lightning. Lightning on the…floor? Cora planted her feet firmly and let the current dissipate against her heels, but applying such a difficult technique to a localized part of the body couldn’t be maintained for long.

And it didn’t.

“Gcckkk-!”

First, Cora seized as electricity trawled through her body, a painful stiffening of the muscles. Then, she was thrown backward, into the network of pipes she’d been examining earlier.

Said pipes burst, belching steam into the corridor. Cora groaned, shambling back to her feet in a flurry. Already, she could feel the ache of a deep bruise blooming across her back. "What are you," she hissed, squinting through the haze. "A familiar of the witch? Or a servant?"

Summoned spirits were tricky to deal with. They carried different properties - some could interact with the world around them as if they were still corporeal; some could not. Cora killed her saber, and the blue light winked out of existence as she moved forward through the cover of steam. Then, when she was close enough to strike, her saber re-activated on an upward swing to cleave the spirit's arm - if it could be cleaved at all.

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Diogo
Eurydice felt the erratic stutter of her heartbeat begin to even out - just for moment. She knew better than to let herself feel relief before she was well and truly out of harm’s way.

The holocron was handed over, and the girl’s brow furrowed. Sorry? Sorry for-

She understood just a moment too late. One hand had taken the offered plea, and the other had struck.

Eurydice was no stranger to pain, but this was different. Searing. White-hot, in a visceral way that she hadn’t experienced before. For a moment, she held still, stunned.

Then she gasped, drawing in a ragged breath. Her vision wavered as she stared down at the short, metal object embedded in her midsection. Slowly, she looked up to Diogo, horrified, and perhaps a touch betrayed.

“Y-you-“ her voice cracked as she stumbled forward, then collapsed to her knees in a heap of dusky fabric. Eurydice's head tilted back in little degrees until she was looking up to Diogo, tears streaking down her cheeks and snot dribbling from her nose.

“Wh-why?”

Wisps of smoke hissed and curled from the embedded spike, and her whimpers turned into the sort of wailing that seemed to drag on and on as they echoed down the corridor.

While Eurydice clawed at the ground, desperate and choking on her own cries, a shadow slithered along the ceiling behind Diogo. It dropped down in a cloud of smoke, solidifying in the form of a raven.

Eurydice’s sithspawn familiar, Gaspar, would peck and claw at his master’s assailant - but despite his alchemical transformation, he was still, largely, just a bird.

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Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Gonna sabotage this fuel station!
Interaction: Open


Blasterfire cracked again through the corridor just as Zaiya slipped in beside Knight Porte, the young Lovalla moving quickly with an almost dancer-like step that kept just behind the sweep of his blue blade. The Lovalla's opal-blue eyes shimmered beneath the dim corridor lights, bright with focus as they narrowed to what her senses stirred.

"Oh dear," she murmured softly as another pair of Covenant troopers rushed the junction. With a deft sweep of her hands, Zaiya's bracelets gave a little when her wrist flicked forward. A small pearls no larger than beads arced through the air and struck the floor between them.

Pop. Pop. Pop!

A burst of concussive light flashed outward and the two soldiers dropped instantly, armor clattering against the deck as the stun pulse shorted their senses and left them sprawled but breathing.

"Sleep is good for recovery!"
she said brightly, already moving ahead. Another trooper fired wildly from a side passage. Zaiya slid behind a bulkhead and snapped open a slim device from her belt. With a quick tap, a thin filament shot across the corridor and tangled around the soldier's legs. The next instant the line crackled with a soft electrical pulse and the man collapsed in a twitching heap.

Good!!

Zaiya exhaled, the colorful Padawan spreading out her empathic senses as they brushed over the battlefield like ripples across water. Fear. Anger. Pain. The emotional currents swirled everywhere, but she kept her shields tight, letting only what she needed guide her.

"Left passage!" she called to Knight Aiden Porte Aiden Porte , sending another stun pearl flew from her palm, watching it bounce once before erupting in a bright flash that sent two more Covenant troops slumping against the wall. Her bracelets jingled again as she jogged forward to keep pace with the Knight, rosy-gold skin glowing faintly under the flickering corridor lights.

"Path is clear,"
Zaiya said, glancing ahead while Porte's blade carved the way forward. "Well...mostly."

Then she tossed one more pearl down the hall as a precaution.

Ju-uuuust in case.

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Walking myth, warning label, and mild HR violation
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Get the Frell off our home!
Tython
Undisclosed Location





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The blade lock snapped apart. Rain hissed across energized plasma as indigo and blue separate in a tight arc. Acier pressed again, harder now. A downward strike meant to force Connel’s guard low.

From a distance it looked decisive.

Up close, was a different story, Connel saw the truth in the angles. Not full commitment.Never the finishing line. SERAPHIM’s whisper confirmed it across his visor.

Code:
FOLLOW-THROUGH SUPPRESSED
ENTRY SPEED REDUCED

Connel’s jaw tightened behind the mask. The kid should be trying to kill him. Instead he’s performing it. The realization landed like a punch to the ribs.

They sent a kid.

His father’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind. Calm. Certain.

Guard what matters.

Connel almost snarled. You don’t send kids to do this. The next exchange came faster. Acier drove forward with Form V pressure, pushing Connel back a half step along the slick stone path. The cliff shook as anti-air cannons thundered overhead.

Then the air changed.

A harmonic ripple spread outward, bright and unmistakably light.

Dynas.

Connel felt the shard in his pouch flare like a miniature sun. The aura poured outward for a heartbeat before Connel clamped down on it through the Force. Quiet. The message was sharp and immediate. The light compressed again, folding back into his presence. But Acier felt it.

Connel saw the flicker in the kid’s eyes.

The blade lock returned. Acier’s voice dropped low enough only Connel heard.

“Picked the worst day to show up.”

Connel said nothing.

Instead he drove forward with a short brutal combination that forced Acier to defend rather than attack. Tight arcs. Shieldless shoulder checks. Angles meant for corridors and choke points.

Not dueling.

Clearing space.

He leaned close enough for his voice to reach the kid through the storm. You’re Michael’s friend. It wasn’t a question. The blue blade jerked upward to block a vicious indigo cut that stopped a centimeter from his collarbone.

Acier answered with arrogance loud enough for anyone watching.
“You’re child’s play.”

Connel almost laughed. ALMOST. Instead his eyes narrowed. You’re terrible at lying. He caught the next strike and twisted the bind, forcing Acier’s blade aside while stepping just off the centerline.

The opening Acier created pointed directly down the path toward the hangar. Connel noticed. Of course he did. The kid is giving him a road. But Arris is still somewhere behind them. Which means the performance has to continue.

A Force Blinding Flashbang appeared in Connel’s hand. Not thrown yet. Just ready. He sent a final whisper through the Force.

~Dynas. Close yourself off.~

A quiet pulse. No time to figure out if that was an answer or not. Its presence would vanish soon enough from the currents of the Force like a candle snuffed between fingers. Good.

Connel stepped in again, blades colliding once more. Up close, his voice dropped to a razor edge. If you’re stupid enough to be here willingly… He twisted the bind and shoved Acier backward.

…then you deserve what happens next. Acier’s boots skid. The moment stretched. Connel saw the kid’s eyes. Not fear. Not hatred. Resolve.

Yeah, Connel thinks grimly. They sent.a.KID. The flashbang leaft his hand. It detonated behind Acier along the path Arris took. The explosion isn’t just light. It’s a violent distortion in the Force itself.

Meant to shatter vision. Scream sensors. Collapse cybernetics and technometry into white noise.

Connel moved immediately.

A Force pulse slammed loose stone from the cliff face. Debris crashed across the path while the UAD drone darted ahead to flood the hangar corridor with false movement signatures. Smoke, dust, and shattered rock turn the approach into chaos.

To anyone watching, it looked like the Jedi simply tried to blind and escape.

Only Acier would notice the truth.

Connel isn’t retreating randomly. He’s moving toward the coordinates Dynas quietly placed on his HUD. And as Connel passed the kid in the confusion, his voice reached him one last time. Low. Cold. Controlled. You get one mistake tonight.

A beat.

Don’t.make.me.finish.you.

Then he was gone down the path toward the hangar, stormlight and falling stone swallowing the shadow of the last Warden’s son. Behind him, the battlefield reset for the next round.

And somewhere in the distance…


Something very heavy was about to happen.




 
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OBJ: 1 - MILITARY FUELING STATION
TYTHON

Allies: Lily Rhodes Lily Rhodes


---​

Friendly -- that got a small exhale from her. The tension in her shoulders settled a bit but didn't relax entirely. In a place like this, friendly usually meant not trying to kill you right now; she could live with that.

She stepped further into the junction, the red emergency strip catching the edge of her profile. No armor. No insignia. Just the quiet composure of someone who had already decided where she was going before the raid began.

"So we're in the same neighborhood," she said.

Another vibration rolled through the deck beneath their feet -- heavier this time, and it was followed by the distant whine of straining bulkheads. Romi angled her head slightly down the corridor Lily had been studying.

"The control center could be contested soon," she continued, voice low but steady. "Everyone gravitates toward the obvious spots once alarms start dying."

Her attention shifted briefly toward the darker service artery behind her -- the one that ran deeper along the logistics spine.

"Fuel registry cores and traffic logs sit two sectors beneath command routing." A small pause, "Less obvious. More valuable."

Just information. She stepped aside from the center of the junction, clearing the path forward.

"But if you're set on the mainframe, let's move quickly."

A faint echo of armored footsteps carried through the corridor somewhere behind them, at least that's what it sounded like.

Romi's gaze lifted back to Lily, she felt drawn to her. "Either way," she added calmly, "we shouldn't be standing in the middle of a hallway deciding."

The station shuddered more around them.


---​

 

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