Skirmish THE BANNERLESS | Jedi Raid of TSC Held Tython

[Eurydice]

Diogo
​

As Diogo’s proboscises fell away, so too did Gaspar fall. With his wings broken, the raven landed unceremoniously on the ground in a pile of squawking black feathers.

None of it reached Eurydice. She was trembling, terrified of Diogo, terrified of what she was doing. It was beyond her control, the Dark side of the Force using her as a conduit to employ its very nature: destruction.

The Jedi took a step forward. Then, he too faltered to his knees as the nightmare took hold.

The pitch of his voice - Mom, Dad - became boyish and raw. It made something almost physical lurch in Eurydice’s chest. Her mother had died giving birth to her, but she still presumably had her father. After being given over to the Seers at a young age, she’d only seen him a few times since then.

And never, after she’d been taken by the Sith.

Visions of another life flicked past her mind's eye, unbidden and without context. Snippets of Diogo’s worst moments made her feel sick; not just for their grim content, but because it was something intimate that she was never meant to see.

Little dark clouds still wavered at the edge of her vision. One hand pressed to the wound in her abdomen, failing to stifle the blood flow. The other reached into the breast of her robes, withdrawing a shakily held knife.

Scooting on her knees, Eurydice began to crawl her way towards Diogo. Then, in that same pathetic, tortured voice with which he called for his parents, he apologized.

Not to her, maybe. Perhaps to the purple haired woman she’d seen flashes of.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never…meant to…I don’t want…”

Cool steel would try and press itself against his throat, but no pressure yet. Eurydice bid herself to be strong, to complete this in one in fell stroke.

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

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

Sethran Solivar​

Steam rolled out from the corridors Cora had disappeared into. As it rolled out into he cold corridor it began to freeze into crystalized droplets. The sound of small crystal droplet's hitting the iced covered floor could be heard in the small mounts of silence between the Jedi and child.

The Jedi spoke his pities and sympathies to the child as she fought against her restraints fear in her eyes. He peeled the metal from the wall and threw them in her direction as they wrapped around her hands retraining her even more. Deep fear set into the childs eyes as he locked her hands in place.

The cold got deeper the ice forming around the metal that trapped the girl. The cold metal bit at her skin through the cloak she was wearing. With heavy breaths steam left the lips into the air. The girl spoke through chattering teeth then as he told her to fight the Demon.

"Why are you doing this to me? The Demon isn't here now."

She still fought against being pinned as tears rolled down her face. Her feet shuffled this way and that as she tried to get some leverage. Her leg movements twisted and contorted as she seemed to fight against the restraints.

"She left….."

The Girl paused as her tears slowly turned to ice as they slid down her face. The crystals from the steam behind them began to move and form up onto each other. Building up into a structured replica of the girl behind him. Then it solidified into a perfect duplicate of the girl, or was she the real deal. One of the two was a Dopplegänger, the one that had formed behind him pulled its saber with a violet snap-hiss from within its cloak.

"Then again maybe I haven't?" The one from behind spoke and glided across the floor at great speed the violet saber slashed for Sethran's lower back from right to left. "You will have to pin more then my arms and hands to stop me!" She spoke with wild confidence, because she had learn a long time ago to use her whole body as a conduit for the force.

Corazona von Ascania

​

Nyto eyed her missing arm a bit longer, hungering for the pain she could once feel. As the young Jedi wondered why she wasn't protecting the girl right now. Though she thought she had already answered that question before ethe Jedi even asked. The girl was a puppet of the demon.

"Chains, restraints the command of the voice. The Demon and the girl are entwined, and I cannot disobey."

The human ghostly image spoke to the jedi. Not sure if she understood, she didn't have free will and the Demon and the Girl though distinct were so entwined she could not disobey. As the Jedi went on about how the one she was tied to that the demon now knew of was dead to her.

The apparition tilted its head to the side slightly.

"Hmm, then I guess he is dead." Nyto said calmly and coldly as she knew well enough unless someone served a purpose, their life was forfeit. This Jedi had just signed this person's death warrant in the Demon's world view.

The apparition then quickly blinked back away, putting a bit of distant between her in the Jedi as she raised her one good arm and from it sprang forth more lightening bolting for the Jedi. She would have to play this game a little more defensively with one arm and no weapon to block the Jedi's saber.

"Let's finish this!" The apparition Screamed.

 

[Diogo]

Eurydice​

Something happened.

Call it survival instinct. Call it divine intervention. Force, maybe Diogo finally awoke a dormant strength, or inner peace, or some other gaudy thing that let him overcome.

Either way, the bloody Spear of Ashla flew into his hand. All at once the nightmare shuttered and the images faded, as the light robbed the dark side's power over him. His mind, such as it was, was his own again.

Diogo's eyes open, blinking as they adjusted to the harsh light. Still on his knees, he was practically eye-level with the girl, given their drastic height disparity. She was whispering something, an apology it sounded like, when he felt cold steel press against his throat.

Was she apologizing for intruding into his mind? Had she seen? Everything, raw and laid bare? Shame burned his cheeks red. Nobody, not a single soul in this whole god damn galaxy, had been in his mind like that. Seen what he had seen. Felt what he felt. And now he felt... kinship? No, that was wrong. But it was like some disgusting connective tissue had formed between them. His spine ran cold, both refreshing and inhospitable.

She hadn't killed him yet. Diogo could strike if he wanted to. She was already weak, bleeding out. But his desire for vengeance had fled him, chased away by old memories and a strange tenderness.

The Spear of Ashla clattered to the floor then. His large paw of a hand slowly rose and fell softly on hers that held the weapon. It just rested there, leaving her free to do as she wished. Whatever she decided, she didn't have to do it alone.

"It's alright," he whispered, aware his words could mean any number of things. He meant them all.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise was a bit disappointed. Far from the beefed up security she had been told to expect, she encountered minimal resistance to her intrusion. Maybe the guards were busy elsewhere; there certainly were a lot of Jedi involved in this mission. Regardless, she was able to retrieve the stolen goods with relative ease.

She was walking back, a crate balanced on one shoulder and a duffle bag dangling from her other hand, when she sensed great anguish and torment. Diogo was in trouble.

She turned in the direction of where she had last seen him, then hesitated, hefting the weight of her loot. With a sigh, she set the crate and bag down on the floor of the hangar and broke into a sprint toward the source of the despair.

By the time she arrived on the scene, Diogo was on the verge of helping his foe plunge the dagger in himself. Eloise's eyes widened at the shocking sight, then narrowed.

For feth’s sake…

Baring her teeth in a snarl, Eloise launched herself at his opponent. The chick didn’t look like much, which meant either she was deceptively strong, or Dio was even more of a jobber than she remembered. Either way, Eloise’s attack vector was the same. She ignited her lightsaber and swung up, aiming to slice off the Sith's blade-wielding arm, then impale her through the chest.

Diogo Eurydice​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Tamsin Starfall Sethran Solivar
​

Nyto called her bluff with cold, clinical judgement. Oddly enough - she didn't pursue it, pressing deeper into the soft spot of the Jedi's psyche.

There was something almost…sad about this apparition. Bound to serve, with no free will of their own, but enough of a conscience to be aware of their actions.

"I could-"

Behind barbed wire, Cora's heart stirred. She'd broken chains and cleansed dark spirits, but she was outgunned in the demon's arena. The last time she'd tried to separate a malevolent entity from a living being, she'd not only failed, but catastrophically so, nearly dying in the process and spending months in a hoverchair.

Perhaps this was neither the right time nor the right place. Perhaps she was afraid to try again.

Cora shook her head, fingers reestablishing her grip on the saber's hilt. "Your dedication to the girl is admirable. Tragic, even. As for him - I think you'll find him too stubborn to die on anything but his own terms."

Then it came. Cerulean lightning flared between them, caught this time by Cora's saber. This close, she could feel violent heat as it snapped and hissed against her face.

Her left hand rose, wreathed in crackling sparks of green light. Emerald bolts surged for Darth Nyto, aiming to siphon the tortured spirit of her dark energy.

 

[Eurydice]

Diogo Eloise Dinn
​

No pulse bounded against the thin line of durasteel. It was the strangest thing - was he already…?

No, he wasn't. Moreover, he was awake and back in control of his faculties. That damned spear flew back into his hand, a holy relic stained with the crimson smear of Sith blood.

Eurydice's eyes flared wide as Diogo’s hand landed on her own. This was it, he was going to snap her trembling wrist and finish the job. Puncture her throat, maybe. Perhaps he'd plunge that stake into her chest cavity and seek her thundering heart.

Put a stop to her sniveling cowardice until she was still for good.

Then he…didn't. His voice was soft. Low, almost kind. Eurydice's fear slid into wild, pained confusion. Was this some sort of Jedi trick? She didn't move the blade further, stayed not by Diogo's apparent change of heart, but by that all-encompassing dread that had kept her alive.

"Wh…what…?" she managed to croak, her voice cracking over the last syllable.

The opportunity to do something was short lived. A second Jedi - this one, a rather tall woman - tore onto the scene, lightsaber bared. The arc of plasma sliced easily through Eurydice's shoulder, cleaving her arm in an instant.

The Sith blade clattered to the ground. Her arm fell too, like the dead weight it now was. Eurydice didn't even have time to register the white-hot searing of her skin, nor the scent of burned flesh. She wheeled back in surprise, and Eloise's lightsaber lanced through her right lung.

The Seer gave a faint, desperate wheeze, swaying on her knees. When she toppled forward, one intact arm kept her mostly upright.

Darkness speckled her vision, and this time, it wasn't all from blood loss. Unwilling as an acolyte, she was still an acolyte.

Eurydice didn't even know if she was trying to survive anymore. All she knew was the same frantic, wild power that lashed through Diogo's mind. This time, it vibrated through her vocal chords, erupting in a violent scream that would rupture eardrums.

 

[Anet Raine]

Valor the Forsaken | Ko Vuto | Madrona A’Mia

Her brow furrowed at the boy's ability. Since when did teenagers -- Jedi or no -- have such finesse in the Force? The scholar wondered whether decades of ceaseless war between the Jedi and the Sith had made apprentices like him a reality. If so, then the Sith were getting exactly what they wanted. She smirked at the thought.

It faded quickly when he drew the weapon.

Anet's gaze fell briefly on his spear before flicking back to his eyes. She felt the Force gather before it manifested as white-gold light. A Jedi artifact? A weapon bathed in Light?

She was ready for him to strike, but then he... Was insulting her? Anet snickered. Shit talk was generally only good when you knew someone. Otherwise, you actually had to be funny.

"Mm... of course it's personal. What damage isn't?"

The acolyte stretched her hand outward, reaching for a loose rock beside him, then yanked it towards him. Anet remembered her lessons, even if she lacked a warrior's prowess. She knew better than to charge in recklessly without knowing more. After all, he proved himself more capable than she anticipated, and it didn't sit well with her.

 

[Valor the Forsaken]

Madrona A’Mia Anet Raine Ko Vuto

His opponent had answered like someone more invested in sounding profound than in noticing she had just been called stupid to her face.

A Jedi youngling, unfortunately, was not what Anet was facing, but rather a designer, bio-engineered, Force-sensitive child soldier in the making, one only recently saddled with a new Jedi mentor.

Valor was injured, yes, but pain did not strike him as it might another Jedi brat. Pain was not something he had ever been taught to transcend… only to account for. Every ache was assessed for consequence, every weakness weighed against purpose and risk assessment.

He was far from the picture of some naive, kind-hearted pup raised within the soft, restrained confines of a Jedi creche. He had been shaped by handlers, not mentors; bred toward function and honed with ugly precision into something meant to stand at another’s shoulder and kill whatever reached too close.

There was nothing gentle in the making of him. He had not been tempered for peace, but keenly sharpened for service, for protection, and for the swift answering edge of violence. Beneath the eye of an ancient evil, and under the tutelage of a high-profile assassin and a first-class bounty hunter, Valor had been made into something watchful and exact in his purpose.

Much less a well-meaning boy taught to trust in the Force… and far more a weapon taught where to stand.

So when the stone came hurtling toward him, Valor only leaned to one side, sparing himself any wasted motion and letting it cut past. The sharp shift pulled at his ribs anyway; sharp pain lanced through his side and warned him in no uncertain terms just how narrow his limits had become. Broken ribs had robbed him of speed, freedom, and the careless aggression he might otherwise have pressed upon her with… perhaps enough to level the field between them.

That injury, more than anything, demanded his caution.

His attention locked fully onto Anet now, his focus narrowing with a cold, deliberate sort of patience. No more foolish expenditure, nor any wasted bursts of effort, could be afforded. His energy would be conserved for what mattered.

Pale turquoise eyes searched for an opening to neutralize her as quickly as possible.

Valor held no particular reverence for the gentler instincts of Jedi combat, nor any deep concern for the ideal of merely disarming an opponent and allowing the matter to rest there. Under pressure, he fell back upon older lessons, harsher ones: to be brutal, effective, and lethal.

Valor saw the darkened armor drawing back from the worst of the radiance and understood at once what that bought him. He kept the Ashla stake raised in one hand, white-gold pressure held steady enough to discourage the haunted thing from pressing close again, while he turned the rest of his attention toward Anet. The cane remained in his other hand as he shifted with pained care, angling to keep her between himself and the withdrawing armor. Broken ribs left no room for wasted effort or foolish actions. If he wanted an upper hand, it would only come from narrowing the fight into something he could kill; separating her from her protector would help with that.

A sharp gasp slipped past Valor’s teeth as the hand holding the sword cane jerked inward, drawing tight against his ribs as though instinct had stolen over thought. His posture faltered with willowy shoulders tensing, attention seemingly dragged down and inward by the sudden spike of pain. For a passing moment, he looked less like a poised threat and more like a wounded boy struggling not to fold beneath the hurt.

 

[Ko Vuto]

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

Ko felt something rather unexpected when he poured his energy into the sith Neti. Only then did he begin to feel another within her. Her body seemingly housed some sort of symbiotic relationship with another. His mind buckled some from the psychic wailing of the being within her in combination with what was happening to the cut she gave him. His goggles eyes shot down to his side where he saw malignant webs binding to his wound. Breaking his concentration just as conjured fire was blasted at his feet, catching itself to the long and loose fitting over-robes he wore.

The fires quickly climbed their way up his body. The material of his apparel was simple and in no way flame retardant. Even when he was quick to recognize the danger he couldn’t quite act fast enough with only one arm before the fire engulfed the rest of his clothes. Especially in conjunction with the threads of darkside energy at his wound weakening his already dampened connection to The Force.

Ko’s lightsaber dropped from his hand, the green blade retracting as the weapon hit the ground below. The Kel Dor’s body began to burn as he was unable to ward off the heat. But he didn’t panic.

With his single arm he telekinetically summoned the Spear of Ashla he’d been given to his hand. With the light-forged tool Ko didn’t hesitate and harshly jammed its sharp tip to his wound. Cutting and severing the insidious dark threads forming over it that were sapping his energy.

The Kel Dor Jedi could now begin to absorb the energy and heat of the fire, using it as his own. Using it to heal some of the damage it has done to him before finally expelling the excess energy in the form of a Force Repulse from his body. Blasting away the fire that had overtaken him and most of the clothes that had been set ablaze over his torso. Leaving the Kel Dor standing before the Neti, with the Spear of Ashla pressed into his wound covered only by the tattered remains of his tunic and trousers.

Ko let out a deep breath, as he did hot steam hissed from his antiox mask like an old coal powered locomotive. His hidden eyes glared at the Neti from behind the heated metal of his mask with cold resolve.​

​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:

The quiet rhythm of the Jedi's breathing drew Quinn's attention. No answer came yet, the question lingering between them.

She wondered what Bastila would say. Hoped, even though Bastila had a habit of defying expectations. Quinn could never quite predict her, and that uncertainty pulled her in deeper.

Most people were easy. Predictable. Quinn read them quickly, anticipated their next move, and lost interest just as fast.

Yet, Bastila didn't allow that. She held her attention — dangerously so. It would have been safer for both of them if Quinn had grown bored and moved on.

Instead, she found herself lingering on Naboo longer than necessary… just for the chance of crossing her path. Some days, even a glance was enough.

Bastila turned, and Quinn couldn't help but fall into her gaze, the warmth threaded through gold, catching the dim light. For a moment, Bastila controlled the moment between them, lifting the book just enough to pull Quinn's attention to it.

To remind her, of the boundary.

Quinn's smile softened into a rare genuineness as her eyes returned to the Jedi. The mission still mattered. It always would.

So why—

Her thoughts stilled as Bastila kissed her.

Quinn didn't react immediately. Her eyes stayed open for a heartbeat, tracing the line of Bastila's face — the warmth of her skin, the closeness she'd been denied until now. The kiss was brief, but there was something in it… something softer beneath.

She answered it, wanting more, wanting it to never stop. It drew her deeper in.

The warmth lingered as Bastila pulled away, claiming the book in the same motion.

Quinn exhaled quietly, something in her chest tightening — not with frustration, but something far more dangerous.

Desire.

When their eyes met, Quinn stepped forward. She followed as Bastila retreated, closing the distance in a single stride. Her hand rose, fingers finding the back of the Jedi's neck, guiding her back into place, closer as if she had never left, had never stepped away.

"I may have started it…" she mused, a faint smirk touching her lips.

"But I don't intend to stop."

This kiss was different.

It carried the same foundation — but Quinn deepened it, letting the weight of every glance, every denied touch, every restrained moment bleed into it. There was heat there now. Desire. Want.

Then she released her.

And the Force shifted.

It swelled around them, filling the abandoned archive as Quinn stepped back, her presence no longer muted. The quiet hum that usually concealed her vanished, replaced by something vast and controlled, but a storm all its own.

Combat, a language that the Echani held sacred. It was its own intimacy; there was no hiding, and Quinn longed to share in this moment.

Quinn could feel it. The Phobis Core stirred, eager, pressing at the edges of her control — but she held it back. This was not for it.

This was for her. For Bastila.

"Like you," Quinn said lightly, "I tend to get what I want." She gave them space, despite the lingering pull to close it again. "I can't let you keep the book," she added, almost playfully. "So you'll have to win it."

The Force bent to will, commanded by its own, by its Master. A sharp gust tore through the chamber, sealing the exits as stone and structure collapsed into place. Not a trap of malice — but a boundary. A contained arena.

Quinn felt her smile shift, brightening now, edged with the anticipation of a fight.

She took the opening move, wanting to see what the Jedi would do with the challenge set before her. The Force ebbed and flowed as Dark spears formed in the air around them, suspended for only a moment before diving toward Bastila's feet, precision evident with the control of a Sith Lord.

Quinn was testing as she watched with measured curiosity.

Through combat, she would see her clearly.

The real Bastila.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Deep Core
Tython
Overseeing Acolyte Anet Raine
Engaging: Ko Vuto | Valor the Forsaken
Gear (Armor acting autonomously)
​

Like a particularly malevolent spirit, the armor had tucked more deeply into the shadow of the student it was tasked to protect. However, as their battle waged on, the thing was becoming more wary in its movements. It was able to resist direct, potent light-side only up to a point. So though it was not banished, nor was the artifact willing to throw itself into direct line of fire. It lurked and flitted, moving with uncanny and unerring grace.

For her part, A'Mia found the display of her own opponent to be as impressive as it was frustrating. Spider like, the neti took a few flowing sidesteps as her many arms flexed menacingly. With her attempts to quickly weave a dark side web rebuked, the initial pattern burned away before it ever had time to truly ensnare, A'Mia needed to adjust her methods.

Suddenly, half a dozen writhing masses twice as wide as the neti and half again as tall seemed to spill from the glittering necklace at her throat. The Hoardmother had called forth reinforcements to buy her momentary reprieve. The horrible, lurching creatures tumbled forth with ravenous intent, moving to encircle the slightly smoking Jedi master in a race to pull him limb from limb. They abhorred pure light as much as any Sithspawn but were loathe to let their kin beat them out at the chance of a proper meal. The beasts were also capable of burrowing and about half of them did so, aiming to unsteady the very ground their prey walked upon.

In the sudden chaos of unleashed horrors, A'Mia recentered her focus on the Force and augmented a cloaking ability, melding her own botanical life-signature in with the background thrum of the forest. She slipped from sight, hiding herself briefly amongst the boughs of a close by tree while she awaited an opportunity to drop down atop her foe if he managed to escape the angry maws of her hungry creations.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Acier Moonbound | Connel Vanagor | Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra​

Her attention flicked skyward for half a second as a drop pod ripped through the atmosphere. It crashed somewhere nearby as soon as her attention returned to the Jedi and her apprentice.

Well shit.

The Jedi had burst past Ace and charged towards her. Then, there was a brilliant flash of light. Her cyber eyes went white, then a myriad of colors as the artificial receptors errored out across the wavelengths. It was a good thing the Jedi hadn't elected precision, because Arris Windrun stood stone -- an unmoving obstacle, as if frozen by what had just happened.

Plasmic flares from his lightbaster scored several hits, melting synthflesh and tearing through subdermal armor beneath that. She felt molten shrapnel kick around inside her torso, destroying and cauterizing soft tissue and even bone. Casing along her right arm was obliterated completely, exposing vulnerable mechanisms that made it work.

She remained unmoving as the Jedi flashed past her on his sprint for the drop pod.

But why hadn't she moved?

Because she needed to feel him out.

As soon as he was running up the path behind her, the cyborg's left hand fell for her revolver's twin. Without turning around, let alone drawing, she twisted the holster towards the Jedi's lower back and pulled the trigger.

 

[Diogo]

Eurydice Eloise Dinn

Diogo felt her before he saw her. His purple-haired, behemoth-sized ex-girlfriend, lightsaber burning as hot as her typical Sith-hating fury.

He wanted to stop her, but he was exhausted, and she was much too fast.

"Eloise stop!" Dio shouted. It was too late.

The girl was now one arm lighter, with a lightsaber-sized hole in her chest. She was wheezing, sputtering, dying. Maybe if he could just get to her... medkit, field triage... yes - maybe, just maybe...

He began to crawl. Then it hit him.

The girl unleashed that same terrible power, only different in form. An ear-shattering scream tore through his tympanic cavity, paralyzing him in place, threatening to split his skull in two. It took everything to fortify himself, to blunt the blow, even as his auditory world flattened into muted mush and his eyes became watery from the pain that shook the marrow of his bones.

Diogo, disoriented as all hell, grit his teeth and turned his misty gaze about, concerned for Eloise, still somehow and against better judgement concerned for the heavily wounded girl, and on very, very tender hooks, given that the achingly loud scream was likely attracting the attention of any and every Sith in the immediate vicinity.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

The Sith wasn't dead yet, Eloise's lightsaber having hit her lung rather than her heart. Eloise readied to hit her again, only to hesitate when she heard Diogo's exclamation.

"Eloise stop!"

Why should she stop? The girl was a Sith and she was trying to kill Dio. Really, what other explanation could there be? Was she supposed to believe that Diogo was in the process of redeeming the girl? That her knife wasn't really going to cut his throat? That Diogo wanted to die?

More likely he had fallen under the Sith's sway, mind shackled into obedience to make it easier for her to gut him. It didn't matter. The Sith were evil and had to be stopped. Eloise raised her blade to deliver a killing blow.

A wave of sound and fury exploded outward from the girl. Eloise received the full brunt of the attack, organs liquifying and bones breaking. Her body was thrown backwards, hitting the opposite wall. The hangar was decimated, metal crates crumpling like tin cans, tools and other flotsam flung through the air. The closest starships' windows shattered, pieces of transparisteel falling to the floor.

Eloise lay in a broken pile of blood and pain on the floor. She was struggling just to breathe, each inhale a rasping wheeze. There would be no more fighting for her today.

Diogo Eurydice​

 

[Lestra Thairk]

Tags: Lohī
Objective: 2

"I dunno. Sometimes a great big ball of flames can be fun to end the day with. Especially if it's not burning anythin' important."

Was it any surprise that he was someone who was a fan of explosions? Of course not. It was a bunch of bright colours and loud noises, what kind of person wouldn't love someone like that? Though if Lestra thought about it, Lohi was some kind of paper-being so...maybe fire was more dangerous to her than it was with an average person?

"I'm sure there'll be other people already dealing with the hanger. I mean, we took such a long diversion...By the time we get there, it's sure to already be kickin' off."

Lestra waved his hand through the air, as he prepared to start heading down to the hanger. It was just time for him to once again rely on his memories of what the rats had given him. There were likely to be dealing with real Sith once they get there...and Lestra was going to need to be extra capable with his spear if he wanted any chance to survive this.​

 

[Kito]

//: Reina Daival //:

Reina had caught the strike; a part of Kito found relief in it. Listening to Reina, hearing the words that she spoke when it came to her friendship. It angered Kito. Why would she see herself so low? Did she miss something that night on Naboo?

Kito's mind split, trying to remember the events of that night. It was her first meeting with Reina, but Valaine had already known her before that. From her understanding, Reina was a friend, nothing more, but…

Her attention was drawn to the way the blade iced over; the chill screamed against the blazing heat of the Odachi, then melted as quickly as they clashed. It was interesting; she had never met another with a blessed blade like hers… Was Reina's blade more cursed than blessed? Was this a reason she fell?

None of it made sense, and, furthermore, the lessons her friend was trying to teach. Did she want her to kill her? Kito's brow furrowed, knitting tighter as nothing made sense anymore. Before the line between dark and light was so clear, the only one who stood outside of it was Valaine.

But she was the exception; she wasn't a Sith like the others.

And she loves her…

Reina moved, and Kito could appreciate the skill the woman had — if things were different, maybe they could have trained together. Yet, fate was not on their side. She was distracted, and Reina leaned into the strike towards her heart. Kito, reacting late, sucked in a deep breath. She awaited the blow, even attempting to adjust the blade's trajectory with the armor on her forearm.

Whether it was Kito's arm blocking the blade, or Reina's heart wasn't in the strike, the blade moved, brushing against the shoulder guard of the Padawan's armor. Kito stepped back. She didn't parry the strike, didn't take the small opening that was left by her friend.

"Why do you say that?" Kito tightened her grip on her blade again, "You know that's not true, you're not replaceable — when has she ever done that to you?" Frustration strained at her throat, "That's not who Valaine is!"

The thought seemed foolish; it made no sense, but the Sith were never rational.

Stepping forward, the blade flared, heat licking along its edge as Kito closed the narrow gap Reina had left behind.

She did not follow the form the Fallen Jedi had shown her.

Instead, Kito turned, her hip snapping, weight settling deep into her back leg, grounding herself, her strength coiling like a spring. The air tightened around her, heat building, just before release.

Her front leg snapped out in a fierce precision. Fire chased the motion, curling along her shin as the first kick drove toward Reina's knee, meant to break rhythm.

Before the impact could fully settle, Kito moved again.

A second, sharper, and higher strike. Her foot slammed toward Reina's stomach, flame bursting on contact, the force behind it meant not just to hurt, but to throw her back and take control of the fight in a single motion.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Kito
Objective:

"Why? Because it always happens. Those I care for, abandon me when I need them the most. Friends. Family. Loved ones. You never grow used to it."

Even her heart seemed to have abandoned her in this moment. No matter how much she tried to put some form of passion or anger into her strikes, it was strangely absent. For someone who loved to battle, to bleed or to cut, there was no enjoyment out of this battle. It was a lose-lose situation for her no matter what way it went.

"My best friend took her fiance and fled. My master left me when I came to her, seeking help for my worries. And the woman I love will abandon me sooner or later. I am nothing to a Queen. And so ultimately, Valaine will abandon me. No-one stays by me. It is not who Valaine is. It is who I am. Abandoned. Disposed of. Trash."

An eyebrow raised as she kept her gaze on the Padawan. The stance she was taking, making it clear that she wasn't going to be striking out with her blade. As Kito's leg shot out, Reina raised her own, bringing it up to check Kito's kick, gritting her teeth at the impact, before chopping her hand down towards the flames, slicing through them to disperse it, and then slamming her foot back down, letting a burst of flames erupt from her foot.

"You aren't the only one who can control flam-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Kito lashed out towards Reina's stomach, with the Siren quickly thrusting the flat of her blade out to take the strike, the metal screeching out once more as frost quickly formed and then melted on contact with Kito's foot. Spider-web like cracks slowly spread throughout the blade, splintering away from where Kito had kicked it, in the same way that Reina was cracking within, as the flames burst forth from Kito's kicks, singeing away at the Siren's fingers.

"...Hold onto Valaine, Kito. No matter what happens to me. To her. To you. Don't let her slip away. Hold those dear to you as close as you can."

And with that, her spare hand lashed out for Kito's face, having seemingly changed in the blink of an eye as her nails had grown sharper, far more tuned to tear apart flesh. If Whisperwind was going to betray Reina in this battle, and not properly respond to the Fallen Jedi, than she would rely on her own body. Even if it might seem like nothing more than a desperate attempt to lash out at the Padawan she called a friend. In a way, it was.


​

 

[Kito]

//: Reina Daival //:

There was no time for Kito to respond. Reina had avoided her first attack, absorbing it and the flames that came with it. She hadn't expected it, but Reina was someone completely different than before. The second attack: her foot met steel. She felt the give of the blade, which concerned her. Why was it cracking? Could it not take the heat of the fire?

Reina moved the blade, and Kito stepped forward to shift her weight again. If she could just grab her, stop her, and make her listen, this wouldn't have to happen anymore. Yet, Reina wasn't going to sit and take the two kicks without an answer.

Razor-sharp nails lengthened from the woman's hand. Kito realized too late, and the side of her face ribboned under the slash. She had pulled back to try to avoid the swipe, which had been the best choice. If she had tried to avoid it another way, Reina might have taken her eye or cut deep enough to slice through to the bone.

Stepping back, Kito paused for a moment, a gloved hand raising to feel her cheek, blood and torn skin ran against her fingertips. It was an attack that shocked her as much as it hurt. Looking at her hand, she felt the anger in her chest rising, the fire burning deeper…

They were supposed to be friends… Kito hadn't gone for her blade because of that.

"Neither Valaine nor I…" Kito paused as she shook her hand, letting the specks of blood scatter at her feet. It continued to drip down her face; she could taste it on her lips.

"We didn't abandon you, Reina. You left the Jedi, but no one has turned their back on you." Kito shook her head; the movement of flesh, even to talk, made her wince.

"You should tell this person you love them… you don't know when the end will come and if you'll ever get the chance to."

There was weight behind her words; her mind wandered just for a moment to what made her and Valaine realize their feelings. Kito had almost died, she knew she loved Valaine, but didn't know when the right time was to say it — or really what the feeling was.

Even then, she remembered what Valaine told her after they had expressed those unspoken feelings. They belonged to one another in all the ways that mattered—and none that were allowed. It made her grip the Odachi tighter; she could only hold on as tightly as she could. Because there was only so much she could do, the galaxy didn't want them together, no matter how hard they would try.

"Don't be your worst enemy, Reina, you're better than that…" Something again shifts in the Shaper. She listened to the whispers of the blade as she brought it up; she would use the lessons that were given to her.

"If you must hate someone… don't hate yourself." A flash, and Kito was once more upon Reina, lines trailed along the woman's body, intricate lines cracking against her weapon and defenses. They were lines only Kito could see as she searched for a weak point.

Finding it, she thrust the blazing Odachi towards the woman's heart; she didn't waver and kept the precision the blade allowed.

As she entered the redhead's guard, she whispered, "Hate me instead."

Kito wouldn't allow herself to fall here; she would fight till the end, and if the only way home was through Reina, so be it.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace


The fire suppressing foam rained down over the slithering tendrils of superheated death. The chemicals first battled their own war against the crawling inferno about the floor of the room. Hissing screamed from the floor as the foam began to overtake the grounded flame.

Varin's gaze tore towards the room as his prey exited, running as fast as the winds could take him.

He could run, but he would only die tired.

Varin let out a rumbling growl as the Jedi ran.

A roar left his chest, rumbling and vibrating the walls around him.

And inferno exploded from his back unfurling into wings. They flexed and flapped once, then twice before the flames erupted once more from their form propelling him forward.

The Jedi would first see the quiet dark hallway behind him.

But slowly, the light of the flames uncovered the shadows of the halls. A rush of hot wind behind him as pressurized air reacted to the sudden change of temperature.

He was giving chase.

Walls and doors creaked and groaned as the heat began to warp their frames.

Within the halls a walking volcano was rushing towards him, a pyroclastic flow surrounded Varin's body, shrouding him in a cloud of heated death.

If he couldn't find his prey in its den, then he would burn it out.

Brandyn Sal-Soren​

 

[Lohī]

Tython
Tags: Lestra Thairk

Paperfolk
​

"I dunno. Sometimes a great big ball of flames can be fun to end the day with. Especially if it's not burning anythin' important."

"Well, lets see if we can avoid that today," Lohī decided. "Fire and I do not mix well, much as I am known to admire the glow from afar."

She was, after all, paper. Organic material, plant matter in the form of a person. She would catch fire very easily, moreso than her Neti cousins. Still, the Paperfolk woman hardly seemed to be upset by the topic. Her tone carried the same light grace and serenity. When Lestra mentioned that their diversion had gone on long enough, and that the others were likely finishing their tasks, Lohī nodded.

"Then we best make haste, no?" she mused, brushing a little dust off of her tail. "Lead on, Padawan. You seem far less directionally challenged then myself, so I will continue to trust your intuition."

A good excuse to let Lestra have his moment to shine. After all, being able to step up when the time called for it was an important skill for all Jedi Knights. Even though she was not yet ready to take a student, still a fresh faced knight herself, she knew that it was the responsibility for all Jedi to help their youth be ready for their ascension.

All the more reason to prepare him for his trials, while she was tasked with watching over him for the day.