Junction The Great Battle of Coruscant | Second Great Hyperspace War | Junction of GA-Selvaris, NIO-Raydonia, BotM-Shihon, SJC-Myrkr, AC-Ventooine

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Spoiler: Equipment and links

Viper mk2 skinsuit under outfit​

Ashlan Rosary​

Songsteel Saber​

Flagship​

Hand of Ashla - in orbit​

Accompanied by​

4 3 Praetorian Mk1 droids - painted white with golden guilding​

​

Tags: Geiseric Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Heinrich Faust

​

In all her career, Isla had never felt so vulnerable or isolated as she continued her escape. The three droids marched in front of her, ensuring she was kept safe, but what she wouldn't give for the familiar hum of a battlecruiser power systems, the blinking of the computers, and the company of sixty thousand of her nearest and dearest. There was no time for these wishes, she needed to be in the here and now and deal with her current predicament.

The blaster the droids had given her made her arms ache when she fired it, she might have to start weekly drills at the range, she was embarrassed how out of practice she was. Not that the droids would show or even care about something like that.

"Admiral Draellix...Flight bay detected... 192 metres... hostiles detected"

The three droids all ignited their sabers as the windows smashed open and in front of them were a number of the same brain dead Sith soldiers, and a man. He had the aura of a bounty hunter to him.

"So, found you at last you Ashlan whore, my master will be very grateful, i might even get a few upgrades he has been promising"

One of the droids advanced on him and attacked, he flicked long metal sword out and parried the lightsaber, the sword glowed on its centre where it had absorbed the intense energy. Swinging it back the droid blocked his blow, the hunter pulled an ion disruptor out of his pistol and blasted the droid, knocking it back.

"Your toys are no good here, maybe next time don't telegraph your favourite body guard to everyone."

The other two droids had mostly finished up with the soldiers, they were really no threat to such advanced pieces of kit, and now they squared off against the bounty hunter that had incapacitated their ally. They began to duel, but it was clear that the bounty hunter had prepared for what he would be fighting today as the second of her droids went down.

Isla began to run towards the hangar in the hope she could escape before the last droid failed.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Shed That Violence All Over
Darth Daiara | Darth Mori

---

---

​

No stuncuffs, no press, no tribunal to administer condemnation. This homecoming lacked everything he expected it would have should it ever come to fruition, and contained so much more he would've never anticipated. Invader instead of prisoner, enemy instead of detainee, volition instead of compulsion. The Jedi Temple was a nostalgic sight. To see it again should have been a relief, would have been a relief, were it not for the minatory implications that drove his return; blackmail intertwined with a test of his mettle.

Zaavik's presence on Jakku had the unforeseen consequence of catching the attention of his lover's execrable mentor. What should have been a clandestine trip became leverage for Mori's machinations. The conniptions it gave him still weren't entirely out of his system. Most of his time since then had been expended with broodish contemplation. The only person he had to vent the objects of his ire toward was the same person who couldn't know. It was particularly claustrophobic, as corners go.

"This is how the game works, though I'm unsurprised you don't understand. The pieces are already in motion, there is nothing you can do to change what will happen on Coruscant besides maybe trying to kill me now -"

Would any Sith besides Aradia give him a second look if he cut Mori with her back turned? That was the kind of underhand thing they were partial to, wasn't it? Zaavik doubted he'd find a better opportunity in the foreseeable future. All it would take is one stroke while the shifter had her eyes set on the conflict, and that would be it. The end, lights out, goodnight changeling. It wasn't any real personal restraint that kept him from trying it, and rather the contrary wishes of his paramour. Incessant fish-eye toward the Sith Lord might have given them both half a mind toward what he was really thinking.

Maybe then the insight would be mutual. He imagined he knew what they were thinking. The Shifter probably wanted revenge for an Empire now fallen. Aradia wanted revenge for a life upheaved and nearly taken. They thought this was justice, didn't they? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, yet he didn't feel like he had the right to an opinion on what was and wasn't just. If things had been different, perhaps he'd feel like he was getting revenge too. Part of him felt entitled to it, but jaded acceptance was the overwhelming voice.

Old memories and faces draped over him a heavy melancholy. A vestigial urge to throw himself off the dropship tried to poke holes in his reason more than one. Zaavik was haunted, in this moment more than ever. Haunted by words still left unsaid and by the people who never heard them. Haunted by the faces he'd snuffed from the Living Force. Haunted by the blood that wouldn't wash from his hands. Haunted by the knowledge that he was furthering the cause of something that deserved to be scrubbed from the face of the galaxy. Haunted by the persuasion that those Jedi who would eradicate these dark directives are little better than the Sith who conduct them. Haunted by the clear cognizance that evil always triumphs.

As much as it might have placated the woe to wallow, there wasn't any time for it. A tight, adrenaline-fueled shake of his head forced him to man up. At least, it was the foundation to the façade that he tried to let fool him that he was persevering. He was doing that same headshake, deep breath, game face routine a lot more lately. Those feelings and thorns didn't just go away, but he could bluff himself if nothing else.

No moping, no complaining, swing your saber and suck it up.

"...Do you know another way in?"

Of course he did. Though he couldn't think of a single one that wasn't possibly being utilized or had otherwise been found out. There was a numbers advantage ahead of them, though the filter of blue and green blades of plasma didn't make it look very promising. "We don't need one," Zaavik remarked. Their in was right in front of them, no use wasting an advantage. Surprise and numbers would be more than adequate to get them past the frontline. It was their specialty, after all.

Already ahead of both the girl and a possible protest, he clashed blades with a Jedi. A Sith stuck them from behind. Zaavik shoveled past, clashed with another. Red strobed against blue eightfold, strikes of quick succession blared with epileptic radiance. Zaavik spun under his own riposte, recalling Ataru as he kept his blade against his assailants while an acrobatic whirl gathered momentum for a backfisted strike into the Jedi's jaw. His enemy crumpled to the floor, still living, but unconscious.

Zaavik didn't jump at the chance for an execution, but another Jedi did, flying through the air for an overhead strike. One stroke of Zaavik's crimson cut her in half. Dead before she hit the ground. No avoiding that one. A look wasn't spared to the bisected Knight. Either indifference or a fear of facing the reality of what was happening. "If we stay on the wall we can give this whole frontline the slip," he called back to where he could vaguely sense Aradia's presence, though he was hardly audible over the Hell that the Temple foyer had become.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Every jedi killed was one less that could hunt them.

One less threat, one less risk, one less opportunity to be eradicated. Aradia was past holding back her hits. If today made her monster than so be it. She was just a mirror to the jedi's own sins.

Rip them out at the roots and then maybe you're safe. ​

Her back brushed against Zaavik's as she caught an attack. Her foot went into the knight's midriff, kicking him back to by her precious space. Her saber twirled, catching his in a flurry of hits. The saber was the one skill she had near mastery over. With the darkside empowering every strike, it was only moments until she overpowered the senior fighter. He dropped in a series of thuds, detached parts falling as she left no room for survival.

Her chest heaved, grim satisfaction thumbing through her veins. She was getting stronger.

Dark hair whipped through the air as she heard Zaavik's voice. She narrowed in on him, shoving her past bodies locked in a grapple against the wall. "Let's go," she said simply, her saber slashing down across the back of a body trying to drag itself away. Jedi or sith, they were now out of the equation.

Her path along the wall stopped short, her head whipping behind her as something pulled at her chest. Her Master knelt on the floor, her presence unfurling like a drop of blood in water. Aradia could feel the energy of the world drag by her feet, draining out into one small void of light amongst the chaos.

Vesta was consuming the energy of the world.

Her master's actions rooted her in place. She was unable to look away, her eyes stirring with a sense of hunger as the energy syphoned out around her. It called to her.

She floated a step forward.

Zaavik Perl

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Coruscant, Senate District
Tags: Ignatius Rausgeber | Atticus Draco | Keilara Kala'myr

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Under Ignatius's care, The Mongrel powers back up
• He messages Mercy to prepare for extraction
• He prepares to go... but he'll need a little help

Bump. Smack. Whoosh. The Mongrel tumbled along in the garbage scow's wake, using his free hand to somewhat shield his half-body from impacts with street signs, crashed speeders, and the corners of buildings. His pain receptors were turned off, a benefit of heavy cybernetic management of his nervous system, or he would certainly have passed out... and probably have had his skull smashed by some statue they hurdled past. The speeder truck might be a bulky utility vehicle, but Iggy had managed to coax considerable speed out of it.

Garbage spilled out of the back in an impromptu "smokescreen", the putrid discharge absorbing some of the fire the NIO troops back at the roadblock were still directing at them - and causing even more to miss outright. Thankfully, The Mongrel himself mostly avoided the rotting trash, and managed to ward off most of what fell on him with quick swipes of his free hand. This was not turning out to be his most dignified day. And yet he knew that, if he managed to survive, this would only add to his legend. The man no Jedi could kill.

For a moment following his transmission to the garbage truck's cab, only silence greeted him. The Mongrel briefly wondered if crafty little Iggy was considering using this moment, in which the warlord was as vulnerable as he'd ever been since joining the Maw, to get rid of him. But if he was, he seemed to think better of it. The truck's utility arm reached back, grabbing the marauder's mangled form in its huge metal claw... and promptly flipped him over. The Mongrel felt blood rush to his head as he dangled upside-down for several seconds.

Thankfully, it was only a fleeting error. The claw brought him up to the truck's door, and the warlord quickly disengaged his grapple, lest his cybernetic arm be ripped from its socket. The door went open, The Mongrel was brought in... and landed in the lap of a screaming woman. The warlord raised an eyebrow, regarding the wailing wretch with confusion, though the expressions were lost behind his mask. He said nothing, though. He had to conserve his strength, and quite literally his power. His subsystems were working overtime to keep him alive.

What followed came only in flashes. The truck stopped, and someone brought him out. Ignatius - cowardly, brilliant, dangerous Ignatius - loomed over him, and a haze of painkillers descended over his mind, only adding to the chemical cocktail already flowing around his ravaged body. The world grew even more distant. At one point he could have sworn he saw Iggy looming over him with a fusion cutter, of all things, and again wondered if he was about to be forcibly disassembled in the auxiliary's mad quest to regain his old life. But he was not.

He did not feel his organic stumps char shut.

Then, what seemed a long time later, a jolt. The Mongrel sat bolt upright, his dimmed visor blazing once again, as power flowed through the pilfered jewelry and into his ravaged systems. He was far from fully functional - how could he be, after sustaining such damage and exerting everything he had to escape? - but he was once again awake and alert. The drowsy tug of the painkillers was swiftly burned out of his blood as cardiovascular filters kicked into high gear, and pure oxygen rushed into his artificial lungs. Despite everything, he was alive.

The warlord met Ignatius's gaze - a look that blazed with unadulterated hatred to match his own - and smiled behind his mask. When he spoke, his voice still thundered... but it was a distant, raspy thunder, much diminished. For now. "Do you see how power shifts, Ignatius?" he asked, indicating his own mangled form. His mind - and likely Iggy's as well - cast back to less than an hour earlier, when the letter requesting amnesty had fluttered away in the breeze. The Mongrel had considered killing the auxiliary then. Now, the reverse was more likely.

"This is the gift of the Maw. The chance to change and become greater, to grow through adversity... to see the powerful laid low."

Once again he saw himself in Ignatius, a man who was only just beginning to waken to the possibilities that the brutal Brotherhood created. Even the Dark Voice, the prophet of the Maw, had once been left drifting in space over Csilla, near death after a duel in his throne room. The Taskmaster had rescued him from the cold void... and he had gone on to slay the Jedi Grandmaster herself, and now to lead an assault on their temple that would shatter the stability of the Core Worlds. Rise and fall and rise again. War, Death, Rebirth.

But he said no more on the subject.

“Speaking of, when are we leaving?” "Soon," The Mongrel replied. Though he had been locked in combat, he had been monitoring Mercy's transmissions regarding her progress. "Our battle at the highway roadblock bought time for the rest of our warriors to seize their hostages from the 500 Republica. Now it is time to reap the rewards of that endeavor." He raised himself up on his arms once again, walking on his knuckles like a legless ape - he would not be carried if he had the strength for anything else.

"Mercy," the warlord said, finally opening a channel to respond to her reports, "Prepare for extraction. We will meet you at the rendezvous point." The cruiser that had dropped them off would already be moving in, responding to his withdrawal signal. All they had to do was meet it, and escape with their valuable prisoners - prisoners who would aid them in bringing down the Bastion Pact. The Mongrel hand-walked back toward the garbage scow... and found himself getting tangled in the power cable. There was no dignified way to ask.

"Someone must... assist me into the seat."

 

[Relynia Sorrene]

[ANV Revenge]
[Captain Relynia Sorrene - Ship's CAG]
[X-Wing Space Superiority Fighter]
[Pickett Line 253]

[Coruscant's Orbit]

[OBJECTIVE -- Suicide Mission]

---

She pulled sharply backward, new aches springing to mind as the motion pushed her back into the chair's own, then toward the side as Relynia broke from a TIE's line of fire. The captain spent her momentary respite to breath; until again, she tore to the side, this time locking the barrels of her main guns on the other pilot's starfighter; only to watch as the nimble beast disappeared in a taunting ignition of its ion drives.

When the captain looked once more toward the TIE/fd's last position, she bore witness to Coruscant's agonized image, and the strange shapes now painted on the backdrop of its atmosphere.

No. It couldn't be...

The comms chimed startlingly, timed perfectly to break her resolve:

“Captain Sorrene,” I had little to do but continue to direct the line. “I am tasking you with a simple mission: Destroy the devastators. Do not allow a single one to reach Coruscant’s surface. Only engage enemy fighter craft if they engage you. Ignore any bombers that strike at the line.”

Simple Mission. Relynia grimaced further for each time she heard the words echoing in her mind. Muddling together now, they contorted into some mixture of grief and hatred-- Hatred first toward the commodore himself, a man whom she owed her life to, and whom she had trusted throughout her service aboard the Revenge; and who now had ordered Relynia, and her pilots into a suicide mission. But entering the battle at all had been a suicide mission, the captain now thought as the anger faded from her reddened bronze eyes, and left her tightly bound fists. Commodore Olivia hadn't attacked Coruscant, He hadn't destroyed Csilla, and he most of all hadn't been the one to shoot down her friends and colleagues. And at the moment, he wasn't the one slaughtering civilians on the burning surface of Coruscant.

The captain nodded, slowly, resigned, {"Aye aye, Commodore,"} She pulled ahead toward the tapering end of the Revenge's bow, clicked in another series of brief systems checks, then clicked in a new transmitter frequency. {"All Revenge pilots, form up on me,"} Even resolved to the nature of her new task, it took Relynia all of the strength she could muster to utter the words as confidently as she did, {"Proceed for the World Devastators. X-wings, stand by on torpedoes-- and don't engage any enemy fighters unless engaged yourself. Interceptors, make sure we don't face that complication...}

{"Serpents, Engage your SLAM systems. Hold tight."}

Collectively, they lurched ahead, and left residual ion trails to paint the the void with sharp streaks of blue-- despite the violent nature of rerouting so much power toward propulsion. In time, the Revenge's starfighters matched pace with the line's corvettes, who had already begun engaging the vessels around the World Devastators, chasing the boxy behemoths as they descended the atmosphere.

Relynia's crosshairs centered on one-- the engine arrays, in specific-- , held steady even as a friendly interceptor and a hostile attack danced about in the air above her. She was forced to pay no mind, forced to ignore sustained damage on either pilot's behalf. She was too close to falter, nor to hesitate.

But all of a sudden, that was exactly what she did.

A shockwave shook the air around the assault, heard only briefly alongside the screams of crewmen as the hull of a Warrior-III corvette-- on its sides emblazoned the word "Myrmidon"-- fell slowly to the ground below. Relynia spun, not by choice, rather by the unforgiving nature of physics as the force of the explosion rocked her X-wing violently to port, and broke the lock of her targeting computer-

--And sent her plummeting toward the ground.

The captain pulled up sharply, far along the way toward snapping the yoke clean off of the dashboard and yet unrelenting as the craft's attitude thrusters were bent to her will. Gravity then pushed straight into her chest as she rose again, hauling the X-wing upward toward her first target. Twenty lives were extinguished aboard the Myrmidon. The Brotherhood wasn't getting off the hook so easily after that.

The torpedoes finally released, and lunged at the World Devastator. She prayed that their aim would hold true, as Relynia's cannons locked onto the vessel's imposing tractor beam arrays. But before she could fire, she had bore witness to another corvette-- the Hetaroi, if fear hadn't already clouded her ability to read-- on its collision course for the mightier Brotherhood weapon.

Instinctively, Relynia ducked out of the way; And instinctively, she mourned for the Hetaroi's remaining personnel.

---

Constantine Oliva , Aldo Garrick

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron (NIO) | Keilara Kala'myr (Maw)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective II.: Bastion Accords Besieged
Location: 500 Republica, Coruscant
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Tags / Writing with: The Mongrel | Ignatius Rausgeber | Atticus Draco | Open

[ Beauty Of Annihilation ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

My trip to the hangar was thankfully quite calm and uneventful. I heard banging, desperate shouts from some hallways and suites. I felt again what I felt out there on the street, how the panic prevailed on the "locals", I felt their fear, the dread, and it was all a heady feeling. I was a little sorry that I no longer had time to stop and enjoy these feelings because time was running out. I was only two levels below the hangars when the answer came from the Warlord as well.

<< Warlord, this is Mercy, copy that! In six and a half minutes we will be at the rendezvous point with the hostages! >> I answered.

However, I had to hurry for that too. So I started running down the hallway upstairs to the other stairwell. Here were already the men of the Maw waiting, who provided the place for me to get to the hangar. I ran up the stairs and entered the hangar, the others came after me. The extra big dropship was just waiting to take off, with four and a half dozen prisoners on board.

"Did you manage to collect everyone from the list?" I asked.

"Yes, everyone has who is needed. It was a great but not a challenging hunt."

"Not everything can be always perfect." I shrugged

I boarded the dropship, which also rose into the air after everyone boarded the deck. And about two minutes later we arrived at the rendezvous point where we had to meet Mongrel and his men. If we arrive first, I wait in the open door of the dropship for the warlord to arrive and we leave the planet. It would not have been lucky enough to lose the hostages.

 

[Rannan Kol]

Location: Coruscant, the Jedi Temple; Courtyard
Equipment: The Dark Sacraments, Apostles Vestments
Allies: The Maw
Enemies: The Jedi; Caltin Vanagor

---

​

There was a moment where the Dark Jedi may have felt some satisfaction but that was all transformed into a stillness. The Force Affliction had assailed the Jedi Master but Vanagor's own connection to the force was potent and it seemed as though the light side invigorated him enough to resist. All the focus the Dark Jedi was pouring into the manipulation of the Dark Side so that he could inject it into Vanagor as a toxin, a disease that would fester into an infection seemed for naught.

In a sense the two of them were at a stalemate.

In the moments that followed Kol would sever the connection they shared, the conduit between their minds and it was in that moment that the Dark Jedi gleaned upon something. A tidbit of information, a memory or a face that he chose not to outright ignore. While he hadn't grasped the full importance of what he'd seen Kol understood that it had some significance where Caltin Vanagor was concerned.

As the connection ended, ceasing entirely it was only the Dark Jedi standing across from the Jedi Master. Kol, still blinded saw with the aid of the force. Every rain drop that fell rippling outwards and against one another creating a picture of the surrounding area in his senses. There was something poetic about how Vanagor saluted him in the Makshi style that came back to touch Kol but the Dark Jedi only raised his hand, the palm open and turned outwards in acknowledgement.

He'd leave the battlefield, withdrawing to a location amongst the other Zealots and Acolytes who heard his word as law offering a simple sentiment before turning away...

"Another time."

...if Kol could have seen the heavens on fire from the battles taking place in space around Coruscant he might have marveled in wonder. Explosions so high in the atmosphere and beyond painted a beautiful if deadly portrait. He'd started to turn away from Vanagor but something caused him to pause in his stride, Kol would look back over his shoulder and let his gaze set upon Vanagor before offered his final barb when he called back...

"Master Jedi, she's still alive you know and out there somewhere."

...Kol himself may not have understood it completely but the Dark Side had shown him something while their minds were connected, whispered some knowledge or revelation to him. He did not know what it would do only that it would have some profound impact on Vanagor himself, even if the Dark Jedi could not see it.

After he'd spoken Kol would vanish. He stood there one moment and was gone the next, almost as though he dispersed with the rainfall amidst the devastation of Coruscant. Until the next time.​

 

[Danika Leventis]

ALLIES: BOTM | NSO
ENEMIES: GA | NJO | SJC | NIO | AC | Any other Jedi-huggers
ENGAGING: Aeris Lashiec | Arlo Renard
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsabers
Force-imbued dual Phrik Blades
Phrik dagger
Dressed to kill
3/4 Company of Legion of Bone among which is 1/2 force Ash Hellions - All led by General Samron Gerron Legate Aether Ferris
The Fortuna in orbit

O~~>FIELDS OF BONE<~~O​

Danika's bled blade was met by a purified one.

The Consular had intercepted her slice at the Padawan's midsection.
"You sound like a glitch on a record. Find a new tune." she told the woman as she stayed aware of the boy.

And sure enough he struck again.

The blade that had parried his initial blow came down to parry his next one again and followed up with a lightning fast jab straight at his center mass in one smooth movement before he could move behind her. At the same time, she lifted two fingers from the blade that was still held in place by the other woman and thrust the Force into the Jedi's gut at point blank.

She moved back immediately to put space between her and the Jedi, where she found herself next to the console again. Glancing back quickly she saw the download was still ongoing. Without hesitation this time, the Lady of Bone flung an arm around, slicing through the console with a lightsaber while keeping the other saber ready.
"My turn. I am no longer suggesting. You're time is over. Leave while you still can. I am offering you your lives. I did not come here for you two. Go get the information that was able to get through before I stopped it. You have nothing left here." she said. She then looked straight at the other woman. "You may be temporary, but don't put the boy's life on the line any further. It's not worth it."

Emotions were still running high, but Danika was growing weary of the time that was being wasted with two insignificant Jedi. She would rather let them go than waste more time while the world burned.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

​

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Boltgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sidearm 2, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer.
Enemies: Maw/Sith
Ingrid L'lerim , Dakrul , Tegan Starfall

Several things happened in quick succession. The Empress suddenly vanished into thin air, along with the bomb. Through some sorcery that escaped Elpsis, she had opened a rift into the Nether. But the dark witch may have left her a parting gift of some sort. Elpsis heard the incantation, though she didn't know what it would do. She assumed nothing good. Her fire lance missed, but one of her sonic shots hit home, sending Tegan Starfall careening into the temple below.

Elpsis could still sense her life force, so she had survived. But ere Elpsis could give pursuit, zombies charged her once more. Well, those that hadn't been knocked off the ship by her earlier. As before, Elpsis drew upon the Force, having learned that fighting them close-up was folly. A concussive blast of telekinetic energy smashed into zombies, sweeping them away from her and often outright hurling them off the vessel into the abyss. However, due to having been forced to focus on them, Elpsis had been distracted. And so the dark power of the Sithspawn's eldritch staff struck her.

Elpsis cried out in pain, feeling as if her life force was being ripped out. She staggered, dropping down to one knee. Her head hurt like it was having a migraine from hell. A feeling of dizziness threatened to overtake her. Searing pain spiralled through her, like countless burning needles were being driven through her.

Focus. She needed to get down there. She needed to continue fighting. Duty demanded nothing less. Siobhan said pain was weakness leaving the body. Elpsis saw it differently - it was fuel. As long as she felt pain, she was alive. It made her focus. She grit her teeth, white eyes flaring inside her helmet. Her Force Senses prickled when she registered the Empress had suddenly manifested again on the vessel, in the exact spot where she had initially vanished from. Elpsis could sense her pain, but she had completed her mission. The 'Fire Princess' would not falter in hers. So she stood.

The fire blossomed inside Elpsis like wild fire. Triggered by the pain and the incandescent heat gathering inside her, her cybernetic arm glowed red-hot. Her metal fingers gripped her hard-sound gun and fired towards Dakrul . Once, twice. Each shot packed a mean punch. And she unleashed her power, hurling a concentrated, powerful blast of charring flame towards the Sithspawn to cook him.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

NEW JEDI TEMPLE
CORUSCANT
DEEP CORE
Halketh Cotan Sar'andor

​

Master San Tekka lifted the burning saber for a merciful killing blow.

"I'm sorry. We're out of time."

An implosion of shrapnel and malevolence crashed against them. It nearly overwhelmed their shimmering energy barrier, and Zark reflexively dropped his blade as he turned to maintain some shred of protection against a whirlwind of debris. Images flashed through his mind. Castameer. Dagobah. The Itsukusk. Korriban. Ziost. So many battles. So much loss.

"I am one with the Force," he chanted through bloody lips, "and the Force is with me."

That was his secret. How the Jedi General maintained balance despite it all. Those fallen were more than this crude matter. They were luminous beings. He channeled the Light within, bolstering his inner reserves and transforming the crumbling temple hall into a brief new dawn.

"Then die."

Zark could feel the electricity on his back. Trust did not always come easy for a Jedi. Sar'andor was a rogue, too independent. They did not often see eye to eye. It was their ability to find harmony that he believed was the Order's greatest strength. Now both lives were in each other's hands. Even in his current state Halketh could summon immense power, perhaps the Sith Lord was regaining some composure. This needed to end.

"I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

Another image flashed through his mind. A wise old krevaaki master. Xylon died long ago but he could feel the presence of his old mentor here now. Master San Tekka smiled at the memory while the temple foundations finally crumbled around them burying everything under metal and stone.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
​

Thud.

The Iron Imperator came feet first onto the platform held under the thumb of the Sith'ari as he let loose the raining debris from the Rotunda docks. Bright light and white hot plasma ignited before him as the after effects of the repulsed wave of energy let loose by the Imperial dissipated into the empyrean. His opponent's hand cast forth, the Sith'ari's own snapped immediately in mirror image like a twisted reflection. As his great enemy unleashed a burst of lightning from his grasp the Dark Lord let loose the crackling crimson from his own, bolts of thunderous might suddenly intertwined and came to collision. Each bolt and it's various branches of power unfurled twisted and turned until coming together as the two forces of the empyrean grounded one another midair.

It all happened in a moment, a sudden second of time immediately gone like the wind. What came next was the lunge of a master duelist, the silent rage of iron incarnate set upon against darkness unleashed. He twisted and twirled his body narrowly avoiding becoming a skewered kabob, the hot plasma scorching against his robes and very flesh itself as he continued to keep up against the Man of Iron's electric onslaught. The Dark Voice growled in pain, his eyes filled with utter hate and rage at the one who would dare stand before him. Even then he felt the rage of one whom would continue battering at his form, as he raised his saber in defense the Dark Lord hissed and growled under his breath. His attention constantly shifting, he was given no quarter, no openings to take advantage of. It was him and Rurik Fel , nothing else existed around them in that moment.

"You came here to bring the end to the Jedi and all their virtuous suffering...and I've come here to bring the end to you. Wherever your scourge treads, I will be waiting. Your only escape from me will be the grave, Sith. You will be brought low- I will make it so." The Iron Imperator sounds out in warped, ethereal distortion to his tortured voice.

His smile widened into a sickening grin spread from ear to ear in near sadistic amusement, his eyes cast a cold glare and in their sulfuric depths there was almost a glistening spark.

"You would of made a powerful Sith Lord."

The Dark Lord's face relaxed, his smile vanishing in seconds before finding replacement with a renewed scowl of hatred unfurled. He let loose with a powerful flourish and attempted to break free from the oppressive stalemate his opponent locked him in. The Elder stepped back, twirling away from the Imperator's reach with his saber spinning freely until the inevitable clashing of the twin blades once more. Reflective light poured out from the interlocked weapons with each strike, each parry, each clash of opposing wills.

"Make sure you do what you say. I'm going to take everything from you, what little left there is that you cherish will be swept away by all that I will do. A deluge is coming Fel. A deluge that you will not be ready for."

His eyes immediately widened as he picked up the voice of another charge in, the voice from before inside the office. The voice of Lucien Dooku.

The Dark Lord pushed off of the saber lock he found himself bound to his opponent in, within mere moments parrying the emerging King of Serreno who came in with a momentous charge. He found himself on the defensive again, counter, parry, counter. His eyes locked onto the Jedi and his Imperial comrade bouncing between flickering images, they would soon overwhelm him. He could feel his grasp over the fight slipping, he needed to correct this most grievous error.

He felt the approach of another, Auteme , whom had stopped the majority of his onslaught below. That's when he felt something else, something that nearly caught him offguard with startling realization. A savage strike against his saber disarmed the Sith'ari as his saber split, he fell to his back and scurried back against the pod away from the soon to be advancing Rurik Fel and Lucien Dooku.

" No no no."

He hissed aloud, his anger and frustration momentarily revealed as he sought to avoid certain doom.

"You are weak. Your thoughts, your bond. They betray you."

Emitting a forceful bale of dark power, a most foul ripple of crimson lightning channeled from his very fingertips, the Dark Lord roared. The lightning scattered across the empty space between the Phantom Menace and his foes, pressing hard against their blades of plasma with savage force. He used the moment, the struggle, to stand and advance. It was only when he was nearly within reach of their sabers did he release the dark onslaught and extend his palm outward with forceful intent. A blast of Force energy flashed outward, one aimed solely at Lucien Dooku who's skill with a blade had quickly become a fast concern for the Sith'ari, especially when paired with the unrelenting Man of Iron. He had been outdone, outmaneuvered, set into a corner with little escape or counter. The Dark Lord balled up unimaginable rage, he would not be brought low by such insects, he reached out immediately and tugged upon the empyrean in the midst of the chaos. Snatching free the blade of his enemy, this Lucien Dooku, he felt his hand wrap around it’s foreign hilt. With a swift swing of his newly grasped saber, he removed the hands of the Serenno King and turned to face the Imperator.

He’d drink in their pain.

Saan'an Gaelor | Auteme | Romi Jade | Jacen Nimdok | Kirie | Aayla Shan | Metis Athena Elpis | Coren Starchaser | Rurik Fel | Leon Gallo

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Saan'an Gaelor | Kirie | Morteg | Auteme | Romi Jade | Jacen Nimdok | Metis Athena Elpis
Darth Solipsis

DUEL OF FATES
​

The relentless assault of his argent blade failed to cease upon Solipsis. A electric cloud of crimson came to twine and crash itself against Rurik's own pale cobalt electric fury, the Imperator sacrificing his skill at the blade in favor of stemming back the tide of Solipsis's dark power away from him. He'd felt the searing embrace of Sith Sorcery upon him once before, be it by the will of Halketh or Kascalion Giedfield . It seized him in his place and forced him to his knees before, he could not falter, he could not sacrifice the initiative here and now.

The Sith'ari had to die, else- Fel would perish in his place. Even among the storm, he would press his advantage to its limit. Not a modicum of time to breath and assess, not a moment to center himself in his surroundings. Fel sought to make each passing moment of this clash another moment where Solipsis was all but certain of his impending doom at the hands of the man of iron.

"You would of made a powerful Sith Lord."

In truth, he would have. The tribulations and suffering Rurik had endured for decades now would've ensured most any under the same pressure to slip into the clutches of darkness. To many it was the ultimate engine to harness that angst, hatred and forlorn into untampered raw power. But to give oneself to darkness was to lose discipline, to lose freedom of control over ones actions- to concede ones will to the emotional impulses and domineering ambitions that slumbered deep in the subconscious of any.

To be Sith was not a means of gaining control of one's self but a means of submitting to one's weakest and degenerative impulses. To travel that path splintered two ways. To be betrayed or to be redeemed.

Discipline was freedom. Darkness was submission.

"And one far weaker than the man I am." Rurik replied with a coil of venom grasping the words as he said them aloud. His faintly glowing argent eyes never left the demented golden gaze of Solipsis in their violent feast of blades silver and crimson.

"Make sure you do what you say. I'm going to take everything from you, what little left there is that you cherish will be swept away by all that I will do. A deluge is coming Fel. A deluge that you will not be ready for."

The cryptic warning seized his thoughts and in that moment of weakness, the flurry of saber strikes brought the initiative of the bout the way of Solipsis. His resolve snapped at the assault, his blade being one stroke behind Solipsis and the crimson saber bared its superheated teeth into Rurik's Iron Skin, allowing him the means vault back as the blade dug into a split in his armor and seared the tortured flesh beneath. As Solipsis vaulted away to gain distance between himself and his enemies, Rurik joined the flank of his half-brother, Lucien Dooku. It had not been since they trawled through the bloody halls of their once birth world that they fought side by side. Now, here, in the House of Democracy, the Heirs to the Empire battled the scion of darkness.

Violent coils of crimson plasma clashed against Rurik's blade, the Imperator lifting the shard of argent up to absorb the lightning before Dooku and Fel were side by side in melee with Solipsis. While Rurik was resolute in his ability to strike low the parasite before him, his confidence swelled with the Imperial Champion at his flank for all but a split second until it was stuck by the brutal reprisal on park of the Dark Lord.

​

Just as the tide shifted in their monumentous favor, Lucien bowed under the blow, falling to the floor beneath, his hands severed from his form. Once more, Rurik was now just as he entered.

"You failed me."

"You failed them all,"

"such is the legacy you've been damned to uphold."​

Alone.

Another of his ilk fallen in his presence. He was hardly the champion, the protector and Paladin he strived to be for his Empire. He was a monument not to his own triumphs, but a merely survival of his own failure. As if all these tribulations were tests in temptation toward the darkness. To spare him in the hopes of drawing him into the abyss.

Where was Vyrin? His teacher, the paragon of wisdom that held him back from that same trembling spiral. He disappeared from his thoughts and visions long ago, at the fall of Darkness, Kyber Dark. But another spirit intruded his thoughts, the vision of a gilded visage seeped into his thoughts and then he heard that ever familiar voice.

"Do your duty...to them. Or fall as he did."

He held no stock in the Jedi around him. There was only him and the Dark Lord before him. Nothing else mattered. There was moment of innate shock that froze his composure for a moment before he was able to lurch back into the fray with methodical bloodlust in his eyes of pale stone. As Solipsis channeled raw hatred, Rurik would be the unwavering stone that the waves of rage beat against in indifferent concentration. As rapid streams of crimson and cobalt beat against his argent blade, he snatched one hand out, absorbing the energy from the strike of Lucien's own saber in Kaigann's grasp into the palm of his own gauntleted hand as he sought to veer Solipsis's weapon away from his body with his own silver fury as he aimed to plant his foot into Solipsis's abdomen to deliver a bone crushing kick into the Elder in the hopes of sending them falling down unto a lower level of the vast Senate chamber.

"I will endure. And you...you will die, Sith." Rurik said, his voice of dark distortion strained as his font of power and ability continued to wane in every moment of the titanic clash and even in those wavering moments, he would persist.

 

[Romi Jade]

Our worst fears realized...
Deceived....
...A terrible truth.

-------

[Theme]
​

She felt the faint glint that was Nimdok stretching his awareness through the empyrean and beyond her signature in the Force. She interlinked her mind with his -- she was always for a meld. Especially in a situation like this, tactically, they worked; though, everyone just had to stay focused on the goal.

That was harder for some more than other, but she'd developed a sort of intimacy with battle...it could've been her sheer enjoyment of it that allowed her to settle in the chaos and focus.

Stepping forward for the final confrontation, she said nothing really; she had no surface thoughts about their situation either. To her, amateurs gave speeches; professionals got on with the job.

Snap-hiss!

She'd called her saber to life, scarlet fire shooting down the length of pant leg. But it wasn't long before the erratic current of energy that was inoculating the arena welled up -- senatorial pods were being launched for their position. Multiple. Saan'an Gaelor was just off to her side but a step or so behind. Frozen.

His presence and the fear nipping at him him alerted her more so than she was concerned for maneuvering out of harms way. In the seconds she had, she frantically twisted at the waist and wove her hand at the boy. Her eyes widened as her wash of Force energy caught him and threw him into the next pod over and out of the trajectory of the collision that befell her.

The piercing sound of durasteel and combination metals twisting and breaking into one another under her boots were deafening. She lost her footing as her section of the pod was ripped apart in the sunder. She disappeared through the maw of sharps edges and power cables, her figure getting lost in the flying shards and flashes. Her light-saber vanished with her.

Gravity tugged her down a story or so, she fell flat into a pod some where beneath the group.

Uhnnn-

Feeling the inevitable weight of several metallic clunks falling after her, she threw her hands up and covered herself before her entire body was lost to the collision.

Crushed.

From above it definitely looked like a deadly fall...

How long had she been out again?

She'd gotten lucky that the debris hadn't crushed her completely; they got caught at angles where they hadn't caved in the middle. Leveraged upon jagged groves and other elements.

Romi had only saved herself last minute because she threw all her last ditch energy into a Force push to slow the pod chunks a fraction, and knocking them off their intended path. It was the faint touch of the others on her mind that brought her too. Even unconscious, she'd been experiencing the fight through emotions and imagery her mind summoned.

Her legs had been trapped under the weight of hulking metal. She pulled her shoto and cut an opening to free herself.

Entirely sore. Likely having an arm broken in places probably?

She mustered on and cut through the pain. The obvious boost from her crystal imparted her with some of the energy she'd lost. She pushed a sheet of metal free and emerged from her cave.

As rapid streams of crimson and cobalt beat against his argent blade, he snatched one hand out, absorbing the energy from the strike of Lucien's own saber in Kaigann's grasp into the palm of his own gauntleted hand as he sought to veer Solipsis's weapon away from his body with his own silver fury as he aimed to plant his foot into Solipsis's abdomen to deliver a bone crushing kick into the Elder in the hopes of sending them falling down unto a lower level of the vast Senate chamber.

"Oh kark this..."

She saw them fall and was on them in the next -- cuts and all. She Pulled her vibroknife from her boot. The blonde flung herself in.

Bracing herself on the way down, she inhaled and let the power build in her chest. Angling down she let go a high pitched sonic scream. A wail...a world shattering wail broke forth from her body like a sudden detonation.

Ssccreeeeeeeeee!!

Tensing her larynx, she widened the air passage. Increasing the pitch, the sound charged out. She was a couple decibels from rupturing eardrums -- She landed in a crouched position before propelling herself forward. She swung leveled with her shoto, an orange flare piercing the space between them.


-----------

---------------

Auteme | Jacen Nimdok | Kirie | Rurik Fel | Darth Solipsis | Coren Starchaser

​

 

[Aeris Lashiec]

The console was destroyed and Aeris remained unmoved. It had served its purpose. Did the Sith expect some sort of reaction? Maybe an image of a Jedi in dismay? Aeris had dealt with this situation countless times before growing up. This was nothing but another day in a life of strife.

The blade that came for Aeris was blocked.

“Your purpose here is fulfilled.” Aeris merely repeated herself again. “Leave.”

The Jedi began to orbit, got herself aligned with the hole that the Sith had come from before she came to a halt. If Danika moved, Aeris moved with her. There was a plan here. She raised her saber above her head, seemingly ready to bring it down upon the teal-eyed woman. She just needed time to focus.

And then, just as she found the spot, Aeris attacked.

Her white blade came bearing down upon Danika, except when the blades would have impacted it was extinguished. Aeris fell to her knee as her hands pushed firmly against the ground to let loose a push in the force in all directions with the direct purpose of throwing Danika out through the hole she had arrived in.

Danika Leventis // Arlo Renard

 

[Arlo Renard]

Narrowly avoiding her jab, Kai’s eyes widened and mouth fell open when Danika destroyed the console. The download was so close to completion. So close…

<You’re temporary!>

Aeris performed some kind of trickery with her lightsaber, maybe a variant of Trakata. She blasted Danika with the Force, trying to toss her out of the library. Lightning fast reflexes processing it in an instant, Kai threw his own power behind the librarian’s, shoving Danika as hard as he could with a blast of telekinesis.

Aeris Lashiec Danika Leventis​

 

[Heinrich Faust]

Location: senate building

Engaging: Romund Sro

Allies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Geiseric, Eina L'lerim-Vandiir, Greer Caimbeulaich, AC, Jedi & allies

Enemies: Sith, BotM

Light of the Seven

There seemed to have been a nerve struck, and all that the crusader could do was pray that it was enough to throw off his opponent's game. Heinrich managed to crack a slight grin, doing his best to hide his injuries as he fired right back at the man's comment.

"Either a Sith, or one of their lapdogs. Makes no difference to me, the stench of the Bogan remains on you nonetheless."

He had barely gotten the words out, when suddenly his foe was upon him. His maneuver to close the gap caught Heinrich off guard for a moment, allowing him no time to set up a proper riposte. For now, he would have to settle for a parry. He locked blades with the armored figure, staring into the blank face of his helmet. The next blow came immediately after, and Heinrich had to act quickly. He parried the blow, putting the first blade in between himself and the second strike, allowing him a moment to reposition. Strafing to the side, Heinrich attempted to get around his opponent's guard.

"You may be no Sith, but you certainly fight like one."

The goal would be to keep his opponent on his toes, both mentally and physically. If he could keep poking at the man's hubris, perhaps he could eventually find an opening.

"The darkness cannot hold a candle to Ashla's strength. You would do well to remember that."

Heinrich took a few steps back, getting some space in between them. As soon as he had a bit of room, his free hand reached out, and he began a silent prayer to Ashla. As he repeated an old Essonian mantra to himself, his outstretched hand came alive with an emerald glow, and from his fingers poured green lightning, sending the crackling judgment of Ashla through the air. If Heinrich could disable his opponent, even for a moment, he could end this fight once and for all.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Engaging: Okkeus Dainlei

Allies: Darth Solipsis , Halketh , Kyrel Ren, BotM

Enemies: Jedi & allied forces

Temple of Doom

Khamul's strike didn't claim his opponent's hand like he had hoped, but he did manage to get the man to drop his blaster. It was a small step toward victory, but a step nonetheless. The Jedi blocked the strike with his own lightsaber, the force of the clash sending him back. Khamul's voice was now dripping with obvious hate and malice toward the Jedi, his words cutting through air like the crimson plasma of his blade.

"I have killed a Krayt dragon, boy, along with other beings much stronger. You are nothing but an insect beneath my boot. Just look at the state of your Order. You couldn't even prevent the imprisonment of your own. And now look at them. Cast aside, locked away like animals."

As the words left his lips, the Jedi reached out, sending lightning arcing through the air. Khamul had heard of lightsiders that could call upon lightning, but had never seen it himself. In truth, it caught him off guard. He quickly raised his lightsaber, blocking the lightning as he made sure to remain firmly planted in place.

"I see, so even within the ranks of the Jedi, the darkness manages to find a way. You only carry a fraction of the power, Jedi. I will show you the true might of the Dark Side."

He quickly shifted his weight, disengaging his lightsaber and allowing the rest of the lightning to shoot past him. He spun toward the ground, harnessing all of his hatred and frustration into a furious torrent of energy. His fist slammed downward, unleashing all of the energy into the ground beneath him, sending a shockwave outward toward his enemy. With any luck, he could knock his opponent back, and darkness willing, disarm him long enough to strike.

"You will die today, Jedi. You are all going to die."

 

[Aerith Krayt]

Objective 2:

Location: Coruscant
Equipment: In bio | Beskar Power Suit
Tags: Darth Insatious Cadere Shai Krayt Zoraya Ives-Ayres


Seeing her missile strike near the target, Aerith felt a flash of victory overtake her, the cyborg's mind moving into the next phase of her engagement strategy. Though her visor, she could see the man moving, working back to his feet, his saber a blaze of red through her heat sensor. Her weapon cycled back to the concussion rifle as she witnessed him moving towards her. Then it happened, his hand moved towards her, and she felt the ground under her give, moving her feet backwards as she knew the feel of the force at work; damn force users. She leaned forward, letting the weight of her suit take hold, weighing her down though her feet slide like made against the wave of smoke and debris that flew her way. While she was weathering this storm however, she witnessed something she was rather unhappy about; the Sith was on the move.

She steadied herself, her first thought being to raise her concussion rifle and blast the little bastard out of the air, but he was moving too fast. He was already coming down upon her, saber burning through the air. Seeing her options being limited, Aerith tucked her gun arm into her left side, as she pivoted on her left leg, and threw her right leg up, aiming to strike the man as he came down the strike her, hoping that the shielding and Beskar frame of her armor could weather the initial onslaught; and if that failed, hell, she had plenty of hardware to rely upon aside from the suit.

An impact slammed into her back, reminding her of being smashed into the floor by Lirka. Her fighting pose faltered, the cyborg falling off to the right as her body reacted to the impact, though the Beskar soaked the initial impact, the shot had knocked out her deflector shields, and put a decent punch into Aerith's lower back. Only her excessive cybernetics saved her from this being her undoing.

She fell to the ground, her left elbow slamming down, as she would use it to roll herself out of Cadere's path of attack. Now on top of a Sith, she had a sniper to deal with. Fantastic.

 

[Saan'an Gaelor]

Darth Solipsis | Rurik Fel | Auteme | Romi Jade | Kirie | Jacen Nimdok | Coren Starchaser​

---

---

Saan'an was once again swept from his feet by the Force, this time at Master Jade's volition. The pod's metal rang with reverberation from the impact of his spine. His pained grunt was drowned out by the loud crash of a senate pod meeting the ground where he once stood. Danger panged his senses, more debris was coming. Saan'an dove forward, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Another piece fell, Saan'an's grip on the force was hardly enough to redirect it. He groaned with strain as he telepathically curved the downward trajectory, saving himself by only a few feet.

"You are weak. Your thoughts, your bond. They betray you."

As the Padawan rose himself to his feet, his eyes came up to the Dark Lord, who was now falling. Indignation became present again, roiling itself into a violent conniption. This is my chance to make this make this right, he thought. Verdant plasma screamed out from the metal cylinder clenched in his fist. Despite the Sith's diverted attention, Saan'an still hesitated in the face of a realization. He's helpless. What would it make him if he struck a man down in mid-plummet. Dark Lord or not, was there any virtue in such an underhanded strike?

It should have been an easy decision. There was a time and place for honorable conventions. Out of everyone in the room, only the most naïve among them bothered to wrestle with the dilemma. It hadn't even occurred to Saan'an how capable the Sith still actually was, even in freefall. Precious moments wasted away in the face of that personal impasse.

And then Solipsis landed.

Directly before the saber drawn Padawan.

Courage shriveled once more, a tenuous stare locking itself upon the Dark Lord. Nerves wrestled with fight or flight. Strike or plead. Kill or be killed.

He was setting the record for inconvenient freezes.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW

​

The blade of a Jedi held firm in his grasp, he could almost pick up the Kyber crystal within screaming with silent shrieks. His preternatural senses were sharp, dissecting the flow of battle as his mind pieced together move after move. The twin blades clashed again and again, rapid streams of crimson rippling forth against the argent blade of the Man of Iron. As he prepared to deliver a flourish of his own, a heavy blow to the Iron Imperator that would end this bout once and for all, his opponent countered. Unyielding Iron answered the Darkness Unfurled with an outstretched hand snatching the plasma edge of his blade with a gauntlet. He felt the full force of what came next, the Iron Imperator’s boot immediately pressing against his abdomen with bone breaking force.

"I will endure. And you...you will die, Sith."

He felt the wind rush out from under him, all air leaving his lungs as he plummeted down from the floating platform that served as their dueling ground. The air of the massive Senate Chamber rushed up to meet him, his hair and robes fluttering as it did so. He may have been able to somewhat control his fall, that is if it wasn’t for the interjection of Romi Jade whom had evaded his volley of steel and broken hope.

Ssccreeeeeeeeee!!

The Dark Lord felt the ear piercing screech of the Jedi Master and took the blunt of the sonic damage that ruptured his hearing temporarily with utter disorientation to follow. As he came close to the lower levels he would rush to kiss it’s floor even as he enveloped the Force around himself to bare the brunt of whatever came next in his feeble fall.

The Elder tumbled and rolled as he came onto a lower level of the Rotunda, his arm immediately pressing forth to leverage his injured person with a gasp for air. All that pain, all that suffering of those around him and those that were dear to his opponents, it was soaked up. He used it in conjunction with his own pain and unbridled rage to fuel his injured body, the teachings of the healing arts… twisted by the Dark Side. His body would mend but it needed time.

Something he did not have.

The Dark Voice chuckled under his breath as the air returned to his lungs with deep heaves and labored breathes. He slowly rose to his feet, knee first as his eyes rose to the Padawan before him holding his blade at the ready.

The Sith’ari paused, frozen almost as he studied the face of the young man before him. It wasn’t fear, it was curiosity and anticipation that immediately took hold of Solipsis’s facial features. He smiled warmly as he tightened his grip around the lightsaber of Lucien Dooku, firmly held against the ground.

“I knew you would become a great Jedi. Do it.”

He rolled the lightsaber away, “Strike me down, I am defenseless. My weapon is yours. You can end this.” Kaigann stared into the eyes of the young Jedi with a look of determination, “It’s in your blood.”

The Epochian paused.

“OUR blood.”

The Dark Lord peered at the enemy approaching quickly, he readied himself and prepared to reach into the empyrean to snatch hold of the saber if need be at a moment’s notice. A chance to defend against this many enemies before they finished him.

“I believe in you. Son.”

Saan'an Gaelor | Auteme | Romi Jade | Jacen Nimdok | Kirie | Aayla Shan | Metis Athena Elpis | Coren Starchaser | Rurik Fel | Leon Gallo

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