Skirmish The Haunting of Corellia (THR v Pirates)

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

THE
HAUNTING
OF
CORELLIA​

(OOC: Pirates have attacked Coronet City, Corellia - their arrival preceded by a dark ritual from some Dathomiri witch already on the ground, wielding a strange artifact to summon the spirits of those who died during the breaking of Corellia to haunt the city and terrorize the populace. The pirates appear to mostly be Vahlan Nomads and amidst the general looting and ransacking appear to be searching for something.

Stop the ritual and the pirates before it's too late!)

BEHOLD

​

Rain sheets down onto the streets of Coronet City, Corellia. Amid the rain, screams. The streets are haunted, plagued by specters of the past.

In space, warships emerge from hyperspace over the planet, an armada led by pirate captains. Many of the ships bear the fiery symbol of the Ember of Vahl, a cult of Vahlans devoted to their Dark Side goddess of destruction. They descend through the darkened skies of Coronet City, shuttles ensorceled by some dark spells acting as temporary stealth as they come screaming down full of frenzied Vahlan corsairs. Every single one of them is a Dark Sider, wielding the power of the Force and channeling it to light their weapons on fire or to combust objects with raw energy.

Among their number strides one mightier than the rest, his figure is more than eight feet tall and glittering in golden armor. Without a helm, hair of dark red flows from his head like grim fire. He is Hasuras na-Gerra, skin of ash, eyes like twin suns, and he has come to deliver the riches of this city, this world, into the hands of Vahl. His hands and neck are festooned with amulets and rings of power. He wields a hammer in one hand, a Sith sword in the other.

Watch now as he strides down into the streets of Coronet City, disembarking from his shuttle. His warriors stream past him, boots splashing in puddles left by the rain. Gerra looks up into the black skies, droplets trickling like tears down his face.

He drank in a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

"I can smell their arrogant stench, these Corellians," he boomed, voice a deepest bass that rung out far and loud in the rain. "The air reeks of it. We shall see how proud they are when they feel the bite of our blades and the cold steel of our chains. Take them."

Pointing with his sword, Gerra gestured at the fleeing masses screaming and shrieking in the streets like so many frightened cattle.

"FOR VAHL!"

The dark skies have come alight with defensive fire from the planet.

Now, for butcher's work.

Vatrës Dhalis Makar Clyne Nysa Veilwalker Isur Zev Corrin Jared Starchaser Gym Halpern Phoebe Winsloe Delila Castillon Dominique Vexx Chloe Blake Adelle Bastiel Atham Harek

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Coronet City
Old Town
@Open

​

"I can hear it already." Elian voiced as he moved through the crowded and panicked streets. He started talking to himself in a mocking tone. 'Elian Abrantes, you always get yourself into these situations. If you would just stay home.'

Or he could see the look from his friend Sophelia right about now. I mean, in reality, did anyone ever truly listen or stay out of trouble? If everyone did that, then... things would be peaceful and perfect...?

Who would want that...?

"Stay calm, move inside, and stay off the streets!" People were panicking, and rightfully so. He needed to get back to the shop so he could at least get armored up for this and have some sort of protection. He had been working here for a few days already, and it just so happened that pirates wanted to be jerks, and witches were wanting to get burned.

He hoped, at least, that there were other guys here, because let's face it. If it was just him, he was done for.

​

 

[Gym Halpern]

PERSONAL LOG: HALPERN
DATE: [REDACTED]
PRIORITY: Secured / Personal Eyes Only
ASSIGNMENT: Shakedown Cruise of the Zion
STATUS: Beginning

The Welkin Class Fleet Carrier Zion sat in drydock in the Cygnus Shipyards on [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. The Zion had been under construction for [REDACTED] years, and was ready for her shakedown cruise and commissioning into the Republic Fleet. She was the next generation Welkin, taking all of her predecessors’ “The Celestial City”, strengths and minimizing her weaknesses. The Zion was designed to be a multi-role carrier, capable of supporting a wide variety of missions in a wide variety of environments, from the hot, humid jungles of [ REDACTED] to the frozen wastes of[REDACTED] to the barren deserts of [REDACTED].

Admiral Halpern, Commander of the Republic Fleet vessel was standing on the bridge. There was no command chair, he was very much the student of his mentor in being around a tactical map. This was going to be a boring ride, but it had to be done. Most of the crew were on the young side, a bit green, but that was their environment and that was teachable. He just hoped they were going to be able to get the Zion out of drydock without any further issues, but he had his orders and he was going to follow them.

All hands, this is Admiral Halpern we’re ready for departure. Systems, Conn… Drop the moorings. Helm, Conn plot a course out of orbit.

“Aye aye, sir, Moorings dropped.”

“Heading out, ¼ sunlight.”

“CONN COMMS! CONN COMMS!” A loud voice shouted over the bridge. The ship was still in drydock, but there was a lot of noise in the background, which meant the ship was underway. The shakedown cruise was underway, and Zion was on her way to the training area.
Relax, Lieutenant.

“Sir. Distress call, from Corellia!” The lieutenant was almost shouting, but the rest of the bridge was silent, all eyes on the Admiral.

Sensors, Ships in the area?

“We’re the closest, and the most capable, sir. Shuttles are descending on Coronet City.”

Helm. The moment we are in a clear position, set course for Corellia. Emergency speed. Comms, monitor all frequency. I want all weapons hot the moment we’re out of hyperspace. Flight… Get your squadrons armed and flight ready, NOW!

Turns on the “all call” comlink, All hands, this is the Admiral. We have a distress call from Corellia, and we are responding as quickly as possible. General quarters, all hands to battle stations, NOW. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.

TAG:

 

[Avani Caedran]

AVANI CAEDRAN

JEDI KNIGHT / HOUSE CAEDRAN

⠀

LOCATION: Coronet - Cantina

EQUIPMENT: Lightsaber, etc.

OBJECTIVE: Obtain the MacGuffin

TAGS: Vatrës Dhalis | Hasuras Na-Gerra

⠀

Avani's dark gaze followed Melos Katalas as he returned to the isolated card alcove that had been repurposed to serve as a meeting room. Katalas had a small bundle in his hands, which he placed on his end of the table. "Credits," Katalas said bluntly, extending one hand while the other stayed on the bundle.

"Show me first," Avani said.

For being out of her element, she had to say she was having the most terrific fun. The cantina, with its smell of t'bacc and booze and its shadowy corners; the hard-boiled chat of the grave-robber opposite; now this little standoff between them. she knew she shouldn't be enjoying it, and yet here she was, trying to suppress a grin.

Katalas reluctantly drew his hand back so both hands could separate the little rawhide bag to show the holocron within. "Satisfied?"

"Need to know it's what you say it is," said Avani. She reached into her pocket, pulled out two credit chits, each valued at tent thousand credits. A brief gesture with her finger and thumb separated them. "I'll give you one now, and the other when I've been able to activate it."

Katalas frowned, but then held out a hand. Avani placed a chit on his palm, then held out her empty hand. He picked up the holocron and placed it in her palm. She summoned the Force, let it flow through and around her and into the holocron. The corners separated, almost like unscrewed screws, and the holocron lit up. A flickering image appeared over it, a grizzled Zabrak wearing an eyepatch over one eye. "This is the holocron of Jedi Master Tiernan Kolbek." He rattled off a date that was appropriate to the era that Master Basran had mentioned.

"Good," said Avani. She held out the other credit chit. "I think that concludes our business."

"More where that comes from if the credits are good," Katalas said as he pocketed the credit chits. "Remind Master Basran, hm?"

"Certainly," said Avani. She deactivated the holocron and tucked it into a zipped pouch in her crossbody satchel and stood. "Good luck."

She left the cantina moments, entering the undercity of Coronet moments before a news bulleting came across the cantina's holoproj, warning of disturbing phenomena across the upper city and apparently hostile forces descending from orbit. She was blissfully unaware of the horrors unfolding above as she raised her comlink to her ear to check in with Master Basran before hailing a taxi. "The Platinum Arms Hotel, please," she said, tapping her credit chit for the fare.

♪ MUSIC: CALL OF THE CRYSTAL — JOHN WILLIAMS

 

[Vatrës Dhalis]

Attend you, all. She comes.

Normally, Vatrës Dhalis preferred to be at the Champion's side. Not to supervise Hasuras Na-Gerra -- there was no one, living or dead, mortal or divine, who could really supervise him. But something within her eased when he was within her sight. By now she could not tell, truly, whether it was something of her own, something belonging to the goddess within her, or something the women shared. But she was called by the goddess for other purposes now.

We know where the holocron is, Vahl murmured within Vatrës as the Avatara knelt to adjust her boot fasteners. The rain didn't bother her, under her hooded waterproof robes. Retrieve it while the others distract these Jedi scum and their pet Republic.

"It will be done," Vatrës answered quietly. She checked her lightsaber clip and set off. She touched her comlink to unmute the microphone, opening the channel to Gerra. "Good fortune, Champion. When we have taken the holocron away from here, and when the Jedi tremble at the memory of your fire and fury, we shall feast. Stay in touch. I will tell you when I have the holocron in my hands."

The avatara -- tall, waiflike, and determined -- muted the line again and threw one leg over a speeder bike. It roared to life beneath her, ands he peeled off from the staging ground, racing toward the lower inner city.

​

 

[Vess Sadragen]

​

Vess had been looking forward to a relatively uneventful visit to Corellia.

It wasn't often she found herself seeking out the Jedi these days, though she supposed there were worse reasons to visit than catching up with a few familiar faces. Besides, she'd been meaning to make contact for some time. The rain, however, was beginning to test her patience.

"Of course."

Vess tugged the collar of her black jacket a little higher, ducking beneath the awning of a closed storefront as another gust sent rain sweeping across the pedestrian thoroughfare. Her dark hair had been gathered into its usual high ponytail, though several damp strands had already escaped to cling against her cheeks. She glanced down at the small navigation display projected from her wrist.

Vess looked up, her expression shifting as a second scream followed the first. Across the street, pedestrians had begun running, some stumbling over one another in their hurry to escape something farther down the avenue. Then came the sound of blaster fire.

"Oh, that's not good."

The navigation display disappeared with a flick of her wrist. For a moment, Vess considered the sensible option. Find somewhere secure, determine what was happening, and avoid getting involved until she had a better understanding of the situation. A nearby storefront exploded outward in a shower of transparisteel.

So much for that.

She ducked instinctively, one arm rising to shield her face as fragments scattered across the pavement. A frightened man stumbled out of the smoke, followed by a woman dragging a young boy by the hand. Behind them, something flickered through the ruined storefront. Overhead, the distant rumble of engines joined the growing chorus of alarms. Vess glanced skyward just long enough to catch the silhouettes of descending vessels against the storm clouds.

An invasion?

Whatever was happening, Coronet City was having a considerably worse evening than she'd anticipated. A metallic groan drew her attention back to the street. The storefront's security shutters had begun descending, their damaged mechanisms grinding against twisted supports. Beneath them, the little boy had fallen, his mother struggling to pull him clear while the heavy barrier continued its descent.

Vess was already moving.

"Hey! Get back!"

She slid across the wet pavement, one hand reaching toward the shutter as her awareness extended into its damaged machinery. The mechanism was simple enough, though something had thoroughly ruined its control circuit. The shutter shuddered, caught halfway through its descent, then jerked upward as Vess persuaded the emergency motor to reverse.

"Go!"

The woman didn't need telling twice. She hauled the boy to his feet and hurried away, managing a breathless expression of gratitude before disappearing into the fleeing crowd. Vess remained crouched beneath the awning for another moment, listening to the protesting motor.

"You're welcome," she muttered toward the machinery. Then she looked down the avenue.

Smoke was beginning to rise between the buildings, and somewhere beyond the intersection, the unmistakable sound of weapons fire was growing closer. The city's emergency systems were struggling to keep pace, public displays flashing conflicting evacuation instructions while traffic signals continued directing vehicles into streets already clogged with abandoned speeders.

That, at least, was something she could do something about.

Vess reached into her jacket and retrieved her cyberdeck, connecting to the nearest municipal access point. Her fingers moved quickly across the interface while her other hand rested against the terminal housing. The network was a mess; she began separating damaged feeds from functioning ones, searching for a route that would lead civilians away from the fighting. The city's automated systems weren't entirely cooperative, but she had never been particularly concerned with whether a machine wanted her help.

A nearby traffic signal changed. Then another. Emergency signs flickered, their conflicting instructions replaced by a clearer route toward the nearest shelter. It wasn't going to save the city. But it might save a few people.

Vess disconnected the interface and straightened, looking toward the distant flashes of blaster fire. She'd come to Corellia looking for the Jedi. Apparently, she'd picked an interesting time to visit. "Well," she murmured, drawing her jacket closed against the rain. "Guess I'd better find out what's going on."

And with that, Vess disappeared into the growing chaos of Coronet City.

​

TAG: Lorn Reingard | OPEN

 

[Atham Harek]

[HRCN // PRIORITY TRAFFIC]​

[—Raven Two, we've got fighters over the shipyards, mass casualties, mass casualties—]

[—Spear Six! We need those gun runs NOW!—]

[STATIC]

[—Command, our position is untenable, WE CANNOT HOLD!—]

[—Vanguard Actual, be advised, you're being flanked..... divert right.... infantry...-—]

[—MEDIC!—]​

[—all units, abandon—]​

[—negative. We're holding, we're holding!.—]​

[—whoever's still listening, they're inside the city—]​

[GUNFIRE]

[STATIC]​

// REPUBLIC TACTICAL NETWORK //

CORELLIA, ROMI JADE MEMORIAL SPACEPORT AND REFUELING
STATUS: CRITICAL

DEFENSE GRID: BREACHED
ORBITAL SUPPORT: NONE CURRENTLY
AIR SUPERIORITY: ENEMY
REPUBLIC FORCES: FALLING BACK
REINFORCEMENTS: NO ETA

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: HOLD POSITION
MISSION STATUS: FAILING

SQUAD STATUS: 5/5 OPERATIONAL, HAREK WOUNDED, TOWER WOUNDED, STARNIS WOUNDED, ABRANTES WOUNDED, PLIN WOUNDED
AMMUNITION: GOOD
EXTRACTION: UNAVAILABLE

[WE WILL HOLD]

[FOR THE REPUBLIC]

​

Atham rolled his hands over his weapon, grunting as the Medic applied one of their precious bacta salves over the wound. He screamed as it burned like hellfire, the pirate's blade having cut him deep and hard underneath his armor plate. He turned his head, breathing deep behind his mask as he finished the mission report, screaming into his commpiece. The pirates were overwhelming their position, the city. They were surrounded, cut off, and the four Commandos were putting up a hell of a fight. They'd been on Corellia on assignment, a rotating junction to combat piracy through targeted raids and small-team operations. Thus far, they were successful. So, they were down to blast-vests and

However, now, the pirate and scum horde had come back against them.

Atham slowly got to his knees behind the duracrete barricade his team had taken cover behind. What was once a toll booth for speeders had become a vital chokepoint for this side of the city. The pirates had landed on the opposite side of it, intent on grabbing the civilians and spaceport behind them. The planetary defense forces, and the Corellians, were up in arms, but they were either outmatched or simply outgunned.

The Commandos were outnumbered, but not outgunned, and certainly not outmatched.

He raised his rifle, tucking it under his arm and placing his opposite hand over the barrel, clamping against it to steady himself against the barricade as he took up another firing position, and returned fire on the pirates with his team. The accuracy and swiftness of their shots made the enemy think there were fifteen of them, not 4. The four Commandos wiped out nearly thirty of them. The Commandos were in nothing but T-shirts and their raid gear. Raid gear that didn't make them quite look like Republic Commandos. More like mercenaries, but they still had markings. They blended in well enough with local forces that no one would raise an eyebrow.

Another one of his Commandos, Plin, bounded to be sat near a destroyed Speeder nearest him. His communications Sergeant.

"No reply on the radio sir, we're going to have hold them ourselves for now! Corellians said they can get here soon- but we have to hold this position!" He said, firing off two more rounds before jolting back to his original position. Atham grit his teeth and ducked back under as the return fire came. He took the time to put in a fresh charge patch, breathing deeply, steadying himself.

"Chaps, hold the bloody line!"​

Was all he could say in response. They all knew the mission. If they failed to hold the spaceport, the pirates would gain a valuable refueling and refitting point, as well as control of a large swath of civilians behind them. Luckily, the airspace was tight- not controlled, just tight between the buildings and terrain here. The spaceport was crucial in this part of the city. The pirates, were keen on getting it. And Atham was keen on making them fight for it.

A hail of gunfire came down, tearing the ground around, and the few speeders that remained gridlocked in the toll booth to the spaceport.

More pirates.

More, bloody, pirates.

​

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Coronet City
Diadem Square - near Old Town
Tags: potentially Elian Abrantes / OPEN


The Dathomir witch barely felt the pricks of rain on her skin and clothing. The artifact pulsed a sickly green around her neck, in the shape of a bone-key bound by a chain. The spell consumed the young witch. The normal whisperings and murmurs of the dead were yells and screams. Cries for vengeance. There was an old clan buried beneath this square. Betrayed and murdered centuries ago along with all the souls from the breaking of Corellia.

The dead had been crying out for a long time.

And with the artifact, Nysa finally had the power to do something about it.

Incantation left her lips like fragments of a forgotten tongue, delicate and melodic, their meaning lost to time but their power unmistakable. A lullaby to the dark. The bridge between the Nether and this starsforaken world solidified and the dead began to rise. Corporeal turning to something sharper with body. Something that could harm. Cause damage and possess. The lost souls spread out from the square. Intent of violence shimmering around them.

It didn't take long to hear the screams from the living as they were attacked. Disruption and mayhem spreading like a disease. As the pirates lit the skies from above like artificial lightning. The dark presence of the Vahl only bolstering her magic.

"Be free. Tonight. Let them remember the old ways. Find your peace."

 

[Gym Halpern]

PERSONAL LOG: HALPERN
DATE: [REDACTED]
PRIORITY: Secured / Personal Eyes Only
ASSIGNMENT: Shakedown Cruise of the Zion
STATUS: Beginning

On Board:
HRNV N-1 Suncrown-class Snubfighter (10 Squadrons)(Corona Wing)
HRNV N-2 Thunderpetal-class Bomber (5 Squadrons)(Storm Wing)
RHS-47 Heavy Starfighter (10 Squadrons) (ARC Wing)
HRNV Liberator-class Interceptor (10 Squadrons)(Conservator Wing)
Rosaria-Class Gunship Transport (5 Squadrons)
Republic U-Wing (5 Squadrons)
Marines

In a snap of light, the Zion came out of hyperspace, and the crew were already at work, fighters were launching, the transport shuttles were starting to move, and the Marines were already loading. Halpern was on the bridge, watching it all unfold, making sure everything was according to plan, and that everyone was where they were supposed to be. I want ARC Wing running escort for the transports as they start bringing Marines down to the planet. Conservator wing start finding targets of opportunity while Corona wing work with Storm wing to find pirate landing forces already on the ground and take them out.

“Conn-Flight, should we offer quarter.”

Only once their transports are disabled.

He looked at his table for a moment and started to look at the Republic signals on the ground. There were not that many, but they would have to do at the moment. Comms, start probing Republic frequencies and inform the friendlies in the area that if they paint targets we can assist. Direct reinforcements to those zones.

OOC: Republic Forces in the area can call in air strikes and request additional ground support if needed, depending on the situation. Feel free and RP the transports or the bombers.

TAG:

 

[Delila Castillon]

"Be free. Tonight. Let them remember the old ways. Find your peace."

"Find my peace? I had that until I was summoned here."

Afterlife travel was still...touchy for her. Tended to be confusing. Merril had given her a crash course after he died, shortly before her own death. Some parts of his instruction she may not have had exactly paid attention to. Didn't expect to croak off so quickly. Tended to happen to the best. Brushing an invisible piece of dust off a ghostly shoulder, the redhead drifted along the streets, trying to place the location.

"Oh, Corellia. I lived here twice. Not a shabby place to appear, minus the pirates...and the soldiers shooting at ghosts. Genius that lot, I can see why they are frontline infantry."

OPEN​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Coronet City
Old Town
Tags: Possibly Nysa Veilwalker
​

Elian was in the process of suiting up as he continued to hear howls and strange noises coming from the streets. These were certainly not the normal sounds of the day. He placed his service pistol in its holster before moving toward the side door, which had separate top and bottom sections. He undid the top latch and swung it open, peering outside.

He could hear people talking, still panicked, as an eerie fog began creeping through the alleyway. Elian narrowed his eyes at it, watching as the fog approached the door and formed what he could only assume were ghostly apparitions, beckoning him outside.

"No!" Elian voiced, waving his hand through the fog in an attempt to blow them away. "I ain't doing it." He promptly shut the door. "Perverts, you ain't getting none of this good stuff."

Elian turned after closing the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh dear..."

A small group of pirates had somehow made their way into the warehouse. "How did yall get here so fast? There was supposed to be someone up front keeping watch. I guess there....." His words trailed off as they began approaching him, weapons drawn.

"WAIT!" Elian shouted, holding his hands up before quickly moving toward the table to put on the rest of his armor. "Gimme a minute!" He grabbed his helmet and slipped it on. "Patience is a virtue!"

A few moments later, he was finally ready. Turning toward the pirates, he extended his hands in their direction. "I'm so sorry, but you guys are ugly as hell." Elian said with a laugh as he moved into a defensive position.

Before he could do anything else, however, another pirate who had managed to flank him tackled him from the side, sending him crashing to the ground.

And thus, the fight ensued.

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Vess Sadragen​

Even the Order's most skilled seers had failed to foresee the scale of this nightmare. Massive pirate craft rained hellfire onto Corellia, scattering citizens through the drenched streets of Coronet City. The Force had granted only a vague, urgent warning, giving the Jedi barely a day's notice to reach the planet. At least they were here. Still, nothing prepared Lorn for the sheer carnage unfolding around him. He had broadcast urgent comm messages to local Corellian allies like Rik Perris and Adelle Bastiel , hoping they were near to join the fight alongside the Republic and Jedi forces.

Panic choked the avenue as a dense wave of fleeing civilians swept forward. Caught in the center of the mob, Lorn fought to hold his ground, raising his voice and using his arms to direct the frantic crowds. The sheer pressure of bodies became overwhelming, pinning his elbows to his ribs. Rain pelted his face while the collective terror of thousands pressed in on all sides, making every breath a battle.

The surrounding municipal displays flickered through the gloom. Traffic signals shifted color, and public signs suddenly updated to display clear, accurate routes toward the nearest shelters. A subtle wave of relief eased Lorn's chest as the crowd began to flow toward safety instead of crushing itself in the bottlenecks.

A harsh burst of red plasma cut through the downpour as a warband of Vahlan corsairs turned the corner, their blades aflame with dark energy. Spotting the rear of the civilian column, the pirates surged forward with malice. Lorn ignited his lightsaber, the bright golden blade hissing in the cold rain. He shouted a sharp taunt, stepping squarely into their path to draw their fire before breaking into a sprint down a side street.

Heavy boots slammed against slick duracrete as the pursuit closed in. Distracted by the stomping feet behind him and limited in the force which he always had relied on, Lorn failed to notice the silhouette turning the corner ahead. The collision was violent. Lorn collided hard with a dark-haired woman in a high ponytail, the force of the impact sending both of them skidding across the wet street.

Cold water soaked through his tunic as he struggled to regain his footing in the slick mud and rain. Cruel laughter echoed off the alley walls. The corsairs strutted toward the pair, weapons raised and dark energy crackling around their hands.

 

[Vess Sadragen]

​

Vess had been rather pleased with herself.

The municipal network was responding, evacuation routes were updating, and the crowds had finally begun moving in something resembling an orderly fashion. It wasn't a permanent solution, but considering she'd accomplished it while standing in the middle of an invasion, she thought she'd earned at least a little satisfaction.

She'd just rounded the corner when something hit her.

Or rather, someone. The collision knocked the breath from her lungs and sent her backward across the rain-slick pavement. Instinct took over before she could properly register what had happened. One hand struck the duracrete, her body twisting with the momentum rather than fighting it. A subtle application of the Force carried her through the movement, legs sweeping overhead as she turned the fall into a fluid handspring that brought her back onto her feet several meters away.

Her boots skidded across the wet street, one hand briefly touching the ground to steady herself.

"Ow."

Vess straightened, rubbing her shoulder as she looked toward the man responsible.

"Kriff, what are you made of? Phrik?"

The remark came with an incredulous little smile, though it faded somewhat when she noticed the golden lightsaber in his hand.

Oh.

Well, that was convenient.

Then she noticed the armed figures advancing behind him.

Less convenient.

"Oh well, that's a problem."

Her hand slipped behind her back, retrieving a compact device that unfolded with a series of mechanical clicks into the familiar limbs of her bow. An arrow followed almost immediately, drawn from the quiver at her hip as she took two quick steps toward the nearest wall.

The third step carried her onto it.

Vess moved along the vertical surface as naturally as if she'd simply decided the street was facing the wrong direction, her boots finding no issue against the rain-slick masonry through a subtle application of the Force. She turned her upper body toward the approaching corsairs, drawing the bowstring in one smooth motion.

The arrow flew.

Its trajectory carried it toward the forehead of the nearest pirate, the shot guided by the Force with the same precision she'd developed through countless hours of training. Whether the corsair could react in time was another matter entirely, Vess was already reaching for another arrow.

She glanced back toward the stranger below, apparently unconcerned by the fact that she was standing sideways several meters above the street.

"So, what flavor of Jedi are you? Republic? Independent?"

A small, crooked smile tugged at her lips.

"Alliance relic like me? Not Hidden Path. I don't recognize you."

Her attention shifted back toward the approaching pirates as she nocked the second arrow.

​

TAG: Lorn Reingard

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Vess Sadragen​

Lorn pushed himself up from the slick duracrete, his boots finding traction as rain poured down his face. A grunt escaped him at her comment about Phrik. Some of those who knew him would have agreed he was that hard-headed, though her focus had already shifted to the threat ahead. "Hmph," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the golden hilt of his lightsaber.

She showed no sign of the panic choking the rest of Coronet City. Wall-running through the storm, she loosed an arrow straight into the lead corsair before Lorn even fully straightened. Seeing the opening, he surged forward into the space she created. His shoulder slammed directly into two approaching cultists, sending them tumbling across the wet pavement in a tangle of limbs and fiery weapons.

Scrambling back onto his feet, Lorn raised his golden blade just in time to catch a descending vibrosword. Sparks hissed and died against the downpour. The woman's casual chatter cut through the thunder while he fought, contrast stark against his own grinding focus. He parried the cultist's heavy blow to the side, spun through the guard, and ended the pirate with a swift, decisive thrust.

Her question lingered as he turned to face the next pair of corsairs. Republic, Independent, Alliance relic. Once, he had been all of those things. Now, the lines felt blurred beyond recognition.

"I suppose a relic works," Lorn grunted, lunging toward the next corsair.

Steel met energy in a bright flash of light. Lorn deflected a flurry of dark-infused strikes, stepping inside the pirate's reach to drive a heavy kick into the man's chest. The impact created enough separation for Lorn to resets his stance, his yellow blade spinning in a tight defensive guard.

"Who are you?" he called up toward the wall.

 

[Phoebe Winsloe]

Tags: Open

Phoebe had been on a visit home, just out an about enjoying the city she’d grown up in when the air raid sirens activated shouting their warning to the city that an attack was approaching. Her first instinct had been to try and get home, halfway across the city, to protect her mom, her father no doubt would be out in the city trying to protect people. Phoebe had to stop and clear her mind, she wanted to protect her mom, but her mom would probably be running to the hospital she worked at to help save lives, and medical facilities would be high on the priority list for military forces to protect, hopefully.

Phoebe pulled her lightsaber from her belt, but didn’t ignite it yet, she could hear blaster fire coming from multiple directions and just like not letting her feelings for her family cloud her judgement she needed to stop and think, to let the Force help guide her to where she could be the most help. The Force felt rancid, tinged with the dark side and something else, something sickly that she couldn’t put her finger on. Phoebe tried to focus on the source of that, but her attention was pulled away by a shout echoing down the boulevard. She figured that sitting there trying to find the main source of the problem for a decapitation strike was letting perfect be the enemy of good, so Phoebe locked in on the source of the scream and took off at a force enhanced dead sprint.

She found a group of pirates looting a jewelry shop, not a surprise, but Phoebe was trying to prioritize people over property so she tried to ignore them, the pirates on the other hand, were looking out for any sort of threat. Before Phoebe could duck down an alley to avoid them on of them spotted her and started spaying blaster fire in her direction. She lit her lightsaber and lept to the roof of a one story building and stared batting blast bolts back, on of them hitting the storefront of another building and trigging another alarm as the cheap civilian transparisteel had a hole melted in it.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Director Dominique Vexx stood with her arms crossed and without a politician's smile on her lips. Golden rings stared straight ahead at the device that a nearby scientist spoke of with the confidence and bluster of someone quite proud of their glorious achievement. A common occurrence on Denon. The planet was filled with as many researchers as people believed it full of criminals or Corpos. Not all of them actually knew what they were talking about or had even a modicum of talent to achieve what they claimed. So, naturally, she was skeptical of this crowning achievement she'd been forced to listen about for the past ten minutes.

With the scheduled demonstration about to start, Dominique turned her head aside as an aide drew near. The other woman leaned in to whisper privately to the Director. The stone-worked features broke when the golden gaze widened slightly. "Has it been confirmed?"

A sharp, manicured nail stabbed across the intervening distance to the Chief Scientist present. "Recalculate for Corellia. Coronet City."

The smile instantly vanished. Their eyes became as saucers. Sputtering ensued. "A-- My-- D-Director Vexx, please, we have only just--"

Dominique turned in place to fix them in place with her gaze. "I don't care for excuses. I care about results. Make it happen."

Making the impossible possible was their job. Sometimes that came with unreasonable deadlines. In fact, on Denon they were almost always unreasonable deadlines. Profit waited on no creature.

"I want a Special Detachment here. Now." If the prototype wasn't so small she'd have sent a bloody carrier through it from orbit, but ground forces would have to do. Dominique's aide didn't bother to question the order or ask what she intended; they got to work sending the order so as not to waste her time. No one that gawked at outrageous orders lasted long in her personal service.

The scientists, meanwhile, scrambled to make all the necessary calculations, adjustments, and gripes in low voices with one another about the Director's insane request. You didn't just redirect something through space and time on a whim. Even hyperspace required seconds or minutes to compute a safe trajectory through space! Of course, their largest concern was the exit aperture -- the thing they couldn't control.

That's where Dominique made miracles happen. She directed them to interface with a different project to gauge the precise distance between where they were and where they wanted to be in space. Denon didn't research one thing at a time. It researched thousands, perhaps millions all at once. Why wouldn't she have a beacon on Corellia after everything the Republic had done for them? And given the abduction of a certain individual.

By the time the scientists were ready (in spite of their protests) a division was lined up ready to march on Dominique's command. The facility had been built for this. Well, not this, but it had a wide loading ramp and open area that facilitated their arrival. They'd planned on sending something other than armed men and women, but it'd serve just as well.

"Do it."

Looks were shared. Breaths were held. Then buttons were pushed and a large projection unit began to spin up as obscene amounts of power were drawn in.

Dominique watched as the device spun up. Ships had been dispatched, but even with Denon being relatively close to Corellia they wouldn't get there before considerable damage was done. This had to work. Reinforcements needed to arrive now.

A deep hum filled the air and sent vibrations throughout the facility. Then, with nearly a roar, it bridged two points in space.

There was no need for her to issue the order. Orders had already been given. Dominique watched as the tanks mobilized first to grind across the bay and through the hole in space ahead. A hole that revealed the street of a city on the other side. Radio chatter suggested the project had worked. The endless technobabble hadn't been to obscure a fever dream, but to explain something they'd genuinely built. Something that needed work, perhaps, but that could level the playing field with the Covenant.

It was time to see how Pirate enjoyed the firepower and tactics of Denon's special forces. Some believed the Republic hadn't been taking action, but they would be dead wrong. Months, perhaps years had been poured into building up forces with gear needed to combat the inevitable threat. The Force was very real, and gave the Sith an overwhelming advantage... if you let them reign unopposed. Time to see if scary Pirates could handle the armed forced of two worlds at once; one specially equipped to deal with their ilk.

"This is High Chancellor Dominique Vexx to the people of Corellia, and High Republic citizens of Corellia," Dominique broadcasted, "ground reinforcements are arriving in Coronet City as I speak. Take shelter and defend yourself. We will rout these monsters."

An armored command vehicle would draw along side for the Chancellor to step inside. She wouldn't personally command the troops, but she would help pick strategic priorities on the ground for those commanders to retask their people as necessary.

Elian Abrantes | Gym Halpern | Avani Caedran | Vess Sadragen | Atham Harek | Lorn Reingard | Phoebe Winsloe
Vatrës Dhalis | Nysa Veilwalker | Delila Castillon​