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[Emissary of Strife]

THE HUNT FOR TIRA​

The search for the legendary world begins on Jedha, Lehon, and Chandaar; three seemingly unrelated planets linked only by possible evidence of Tira's true location.

Meliant Tamsin Starfall Ra'Shayne Vorr Caelis Venn Mellia Raine Nilira Vornix Acier Moonbound Mercy Quinn Varanin Eurydice Varin Mortifer Madrona A’Mia Vector Monk Efret Farr Delvin jeth Krasskorr the Maw Ziso Kus Kaelyr Lirka Ka Seris Velmora Lysander von Ascania

The Kyber Heart, Jedha, has long been considered a holy world by numerous Force religions. Long ago, a sect of Jedi astronavigators built and maintained a monastery located deep within the desiccated tablelands. There, they constructed a grand observatory and studied the movement of the cosmos and the mysteries of the Force. It is said that their gifts for premonition allowed them to even perceive the future arrangement of stars, allowing them to ascertain the location of objects and worlds that otherwise eluded explorers of their time.

Though now a ruin, the monastery is a site strong in the Light. Even a Sith Lord must be wary of the powers that work against them here.

Brave the ruins, plunder the archives, and overcome the Light!

Spoiler: OOC Notes

Consider this objective to be the inverse of Luke's confrontation in the Cave of Evil, or Ezra Bridger's Jedi trial at the Lothal Temple. Your goal is to overcome the Light and its attempts to dissuade you from the dark path.

Commonly known as Rakata Prime, Lehon was the seat of the vaunted Infinite Empire and the homeworld of the Rakata species. Do not let this seeming tropical paradise fool your perceptions, for Lehon is a planet long tainted in Darkness and contains many secrets yet unraveled. Within an impossibly pristine but abandoned ancient city, there is a prison contained within a massive stone monolith, where the minds of more than a dozen great scholars and scientists are held as punishment for betrayals long forgotten in the madness that now consumes them.

Enter the mind prison, confront the prisoners, and extract the knowledge they hold. Or, barring that, survive and find a way out before you join them in their eternal purgatory.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

This objective is great if you want your character to get lost and have to battle their way through the machinations of an insane prisoner's mind. Ideal if you want to get weird or whimsy with it.

On the Jewel of Tion, one of Xim's legendary vaults has been uncovered and reactivated after millennia of inactivity. Among the treasure hoard within is a sizable data archive of GenoHaradan secrets. However, reaching these spoils will be no easy task. There are traps, war droids, and force-sensitive assassins to contend with, and their sole purpose is to kill graverobbers and ensure that no one touches the works of their mighty Despot.

Delve into the vault, overcome the defenses of a paranoid tyrant, and claim a piece of wealth incomparable... and the data, too, if it pleases you.

Spoiler: OOC Notes

This objective is for those who want to fight or sneak their way past deadly traps and hostile forces.

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[Madrona A’Mia]

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Tags: Ra'Shayne Vorr & Delvin jeth
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It was surprising really, how easy it was for A'Mia to infiltrate places she didn't belong and hadn't been invited. She was a shapeshifter after all, so really it was her prerogative. Not only that, but few things in the galaxy could stand between the neti scientist and that which intrigued her.

A unique opportunity had presented itself and she'd taken it without hesitation. That was how the arboreal woman had found herself on Lehon, secreting herself in to a Rakatan mind prison. The odd fleshy species wasn't ideal to mimic but she'd found a green-brown guard on their way to work, helping herself to his uniform and badge. The unfortunate rakata had been stuffed unceremoniously into a trash chute.

Humming merrily, affected eyestalks swiveling to take in the entrance, the disguised neti easily made her way deeper into the facility. The trick was that she hadn't copied the real guard too closely and so she looked like she fit in but wouldn't be accidentally recognized.

Upon reaching a somewhat less populated area, the arboreal woman dropped the act and soon gave into her intense curiosity. The aura of this place was palpable, and though she'd seen examples of more basic mind prisons on Korriban, she was impressed by the scale of this operation.

Careful not to touch anything physically, A'Mia reached out long, red-brown fingers to brush against the air surrounding one particularly impressive specimen. As if she was seeking for the strings of an instrument or threads of a tapestry. Her gaze became distant as she slowly began to bolster her mind with the Force, preparing for a metaphysical journey of sorts.

 

[Caelis Venn]

THE HUNT FOR TIRA



OBJECTIVE 1


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Tag: //OPEN//

The moment Caelis Venn set foot within the ruins of the Kyber Heart, he knew this would not be a simple trial.
The air itself resisted him.

Not violently—not like an enemy blade or a blaster bolt—but persistently. Like a hand pressed against his chest, urging him to stop. To breathe. To remember.
It disgusted him.

The desiccated tablelands stretched endlessly behind him, but ahead stood the fractured remains of the ancient observatory—its spires broken, its purpose buried beneath time. And yet, the Force here was not diminished.

It was focused.
Waiting.
Caelis pulled his hood lower as he stepped inside, boots echoing against stone worn smooth by centuries of Jedi who believed they could read fate itself in the stars.
“Then let me show you how wrong you were,” he muttered.
The deeper he walked, the quieter the world became—until even his own footsteps seemed swallowed by something unseen.

Then—
“Caelis.”
He froze.
No shift in the air. No dramatic pull into illusion.
Just a voice.
Behind him.
Familiar.
He turned slowly.
And there he was.
His twin.
Standing whole within the ruin as though it had never fallen. Robes untouched by dust. Eyes clear. Calm. Unbroken.
“You’re not real,” Caelis said immediately, though the words lacked the bite they should have carried.

“I’m as real as the part of you that brought me here.”
That answer lingered too long.
Caelis ignited his crimson blade—not in rage, but in defiance. The snap-hiss cut through the silence, painting the ancient walls in violent red.

“I didn’t come here for ghosts.”
His brother didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
“You came here for answers,” he said. “The same as they did.”
A subtle gesture upward—
The ceiling above them repaired itself.
Stone reformed. The great observatory dome returned, revealing a sky filled with shifting constellations. Stars moved unnaturally, aligning into patterns that felt… deliberate.
Watching.
Judging.

“You think this place will make you stronger,” his brother continued. “But it doesn’t work like that.”
Caelis stepped forward, blade low at his side.
“No,” he said coldly. “It shows the future.”
“Then look.” His brother Kael, said, pointing ahead.

The stars shifted.
And the visions began.
Not distant. Not symbolic.
Immediate.
Violent.
Caelis saw himself—cloaked in black, power radiating from him like a storm. Enemies fell before him. Worlds burned. His strength undeniable.

But behind it—
Nothing.
No one.
Alone.
The vision twisted.
Now—
He stood across from his brother, sabers locked. Not as shadows. Not as echoes.
Real.
Desperate.
Neither able to strike the final blow.

“I won’t become that,” Caelis growled, though whether he meant the solitude… or the hesitation, even he didn’t know.
“You already are becoming it,” his brother replied.
Their surroundings flickered—ruin, observatory, battlefield—never settling, as if the Force itself refused to choose which truth to show him.

Caelis attacked.
Fast. Precise. Fueled by the need to end this.
Their blades met—
And stayed.
Locked.
Neither giving ground.
That was the worst part.
Not that his brother could fight him.
But that he could match him.

“You feel it,” his brother said quietly, their sabers trembling between them. “This place isn’t weakening you… it’s forcing you to face what you’re trying to bury.”
Caelis pushed harder, teeth clenched.

“I buried it already.”
“No,” his brother said. “You ran from it.”
For a split second—
A crack.
Not in the blade.
Not in the Force.
In Caelis.
Rage surged to fill it.
With a roar, he broke the lock and lashed out—
The vision shattered.

He stood alone once more in the ruins.
Breathing hard.
Saber still ignited.
But the silence was different now.
He wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
The presence lingered—not as a figure he could strike, but as something woven into the very fabric of the Force around him.
A constant pressure.
A constant voice.
A constant pull.

"Caelis…"
His grip tightened.
“Good,” he said under his breath, though his voice carried something darker than confidence—something bordering on obsession.
“You want to follow me?”
He turned, heading deeper into the buried archives beneath the observatory—where ancient star maps and forbidden knowledge waited.
“Then watch.”
His eyes hardened, crimson reflecting faintly in the darkness.
“Because this isn’t over.”
The wind whispered again through the broken halls.
Not fading.
Not ending.
Just coexisting as he continued further and further into the hall, trying to get to him.

​

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Mellia Raine
BELAZURA | PRELUDE​

"Senator--ma'am!"

An aide ran down the hall after Anet.

She turned towards him, "I'll be away for at least the week. I'll check in if I'm delayed."

The blast door slammed shut before she could make sense of now muffled protests. The half-pantoran smirked, turned afoot, and strolled down the quiet corridors of her yacht. Well, technically, it was her father's ship, the Starwind Epiphany. But she had 'borrowed' and made it her home.

Display consoles lit up as she entered the bridge, hailed by the ship's computer.

"Greetings, Miss Raine. Where are we headed today?"

She sank into the comfortable command chair, surrounded by empty stations. Wholly unnecessarily, thanks to expensive and sophisticated automation.

Lazily slouched to one side, hand pressed into her cheek, Anet cleared her throat and exhaled.

"Set course for Lehon by way of Belasco."

A tedious and inefficient detour, but necessary to obfuscate her travels, just in case someone decided to stalk this senator's whereabouts.

"At once."

The starship lifted off, broke atmosphere, and jumped to lightspeed--leaving nothing but a blip and a trajectory in its wake. With nothing but dull hyperspace blue to entertain her, Anet rose from the chair and made for her room... At least that was her plan until she heard a peculiar squeak, like someone's shoe turned too quickly on the smooth floor.

Tsk.

The acolyte left her mask at her desk. Without it, she had no Force to call upon. No perceptions but those ordinary. Worse, she never felt compelled to carry a weapon, though her hand instinctively reached down for a lightsaber that wasn't there.

Anet cautiously turned the corner, hoping to spy whatever or (hopefully not) whoever it was. Yet lately, paranoia had the better of her. A spy? An assassin? Her nosy, pedantic aide?!

 

[Ra'Shayne Vorr]

LAHONA | MIND PRISON
TAG: Madrona A’Mia Delvin jeth
​

This place was so seeped in darkness that Ra'Shayne could scent it from orbit and the feeling only intensified as she entered. Her eyes glowed from the glitterstim but her mind was razor sharp. She knew how she was getting in, the Ratakan's for their formidable reputation were only strong because they were first. And first is obsolete.

She walked along behind a uniformed guard who led her in like an old friend. His mind was shattered and rivers of her force flowed through ever part of his mind. He was her slave and he would do exactly what she wanted. This included leading her straight into the mind prison along routes that he knew would be unguarded at those specific moments due to moving patrols. At this time they were one mind, they even smelled the same after she had sprayed him with a little something to encourage his mind to open to hers.

She walked into the prison next to her escort and felt the alarm in her slave at the other unexpected intruder. The alarm went nowhere though and was immediately quelled by Darth Equinox as she looked over at the strange arboreal form across the room. It didn't move her that there was another Sith here, what moved her was there was another Sith here first.

"Have you picked your poison yet?" she asked Madrona A’Mia as her slave went about the business of accessing the logs for her. Ra'Shayne was curious what each of them was imprisoned for perhaps to gain an advantage, or perhaps to predict the most fun mind prison to enter. From the dead look in the eyes of the guard it should likely be obvious to Madrona that he was under the influence of Qâzoi Kyantuska, and as such, not someone she should immediately murder. Unless that was her mood.

"One each, or do we go in together?" she asked with curiosity.

 

[Vector Monk]

Lysander von Ascania Seris Velmora

"Remarkable!"

Vector Monk, galaxy renowned archaeologist and infamous Jedi killer, paused in front of an ancient rakatan statue to mop the perspiration from his brow with a monogrammed shimmersilk handkerchief. Rakata Prime's humid jungle climate extracted a heavy toll on the ancient Sith historian's fair complexion. If he could endure tomb excavations deep in the frigid deserts of Korriban then there were no lengths Monk would not go in the pursuit of forbidden knowledge.

"My lord von Ascania," he knelt before the pair of Sith, "I believe this extraordinary example of pre-Dynasty sculpture means we are on the right track. There are bound to be more elaborate rakatan ruins close at hand!"

When Monk placed the pith helmet back on his bald pate, he bore a striking resemblance to some kind of ridiculous Core Worlds big game hunter. Tan safari clothes that were darkened by more pits of sweat. Unusual jewelry on one hand seemed anachronistic for such an expedition and the protective talisman around his neck hummed with dormant power even as it turned the veins black where it touched his bare skin like some kind of poison or infection.

He was enthusiastic for a Sith cultist. Evidently earning some favor beyond the Blackwall, Monk boasted a recommendation from Darth Carnifex himself. Eager to ingratiate himself with Lysander that much was obvious but careful not to offend the acolyte who accompanied him. Shrewd instincts kept Vector alive when so many others suffered ignoble fates serving dark masters. Most essential was protecting his reputation for always delivering results.

 

[Mellia Raine]

BELAZURA
Anet Raine​

Not a spy, not an investigator from the Republic, not a Jedi Shadow here to root her out and expose her villainy or a rival sith here to eliminate her before she grew too powerful. No, what faced Anet here today, what strolled onto the bridge of the Starwind Epiphany without a care in the Galaxy, was something much worse.

Family.

"You know,"

Mellia Raine cut something of an imposing figure - tall, lean, with eyes that burned like sulfur and skin the color of the long dead - and she had the air about her of someone who simply understood that she was better than you, specifically.

"That the security on this thing is terrible, right, sister?" The wayward Raine sister smiled oh-so-sweetly, though the expression didn't reach her eyes until she'd strolled past Anet and sat herself down in the captain's chair, legs crossed and lounging like she was in a nightclub and not trespassing upon a senator's property. There, she allowed a bit of genuine mirth to bleed through.

"Congratulations on the appointment; I'm sure you're embezzling with the best of them."

Was that a hint of genuine affection? Maybe, or maybe there was a fume leak somewhere aboard.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Open....

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Kraskorr occupied the shadowy, red-lit confines of the Imperial Stealth Shuttle, his imposing figure wedged between the bulkhead and the cargo ramp. He traced a clawed finger over the jagged, silver-white scar that split his snout, a lasting testament to Mercy's blow and the destruction of the Imperial Palace that had occurred months earlier.

Having confronted the Sith Empress and emerged alive, a surge of confidence began to rise within him. Despite this newfound bravado, he had been compelled to retreat into the vastness of the Outer Rim, nursing a broken jaw and a bruised ego after failing to protect the Emperor's territory from invaders.

The galaxy had moved on without him, and for the Saruton, that was perfectly acceptable as the Jewel of Tion revealed itself.

"Descent in thirty seconds," the pilot's voice crackled.

Krasskorr stood, the weight of his armor creaking under the strain. Gone was the gleaming ceremonial plate of the Dark Side Elite; now it was a dull black, scarred by acid and blaster fire, devoid of any markings that might reveal his allegiance. He grasped the hilt of his Lightclub, securely fastened to his belt, its familiar heft grounding him in a universe that felt increasingly unstable.

As the shuttle's repulsors buzzed to life, it descended onto the ancient landing platform.

Through the viewport, the imposing structure of Xim the Despot rose, a relic of twisted geometry and paranoid architecture. After centuries of dormancy, its awakening sent a tremor through the Force, a sensation that Krasskorr could almost taste, sharp and metallic like blood in the air.

"The archives," Krasskorr hissed, his voice still raspy from the injuries of Coruscant. "The GenoHaradan secrets will belong to the true Galactic Emperor." The ramp hissed open, revealing the stagnant air of the former Capital, thick with the scent of incense and ozone.

Krasskorr emerged, his split tongue darting out to detect the presence of defenses. Instead of human scents, he was met with the cold, sterile aroma of war droids and the sharp, metallic essence of ancient Force-sensitive assassins, sentinels who had survived the fall of their master's empire, yet continued to embody his lingering paranoia.

 

[Meliant]

​

In some remote wild sector of Chandaar, Meliant and a randomly assembled subgroup of his retinue trekked aimlessly until they arrived at a peculiar, rocky outcropping - covered thickly with vines and trees and all the other usual jungle shit. Richly colored birds roosted within, squawking and fucking as jungle creatures were so often wont to do. ​

​

This was not what brought him here, of course.​

​

Meliant held up a hand, then gestured for someone to hand him his sword - which a cloaked retainer did. He drew the long and awful blade out of its scabbard and tossed the sheathe away, holding it aloft so that the sun could catch it. It glimmered beautifully in the sunlight, as if it were a work of art and not a hideous weapon of war. The view mystified and innerved his procession of rubes anyway. Meliant was very pleased with himself for having snatched this piece from the vaults below his palace. Sorry - the academy.​

​

Without warning he slashed at the air, downward, and a terrible unseen force tore the earth in two: trees, then undergrowth, then soil, then rock, and finally the durasteel shell at the base all split with a terrible crash. A strong gust of wind ripped through the valley from the power of the motion, ruffling cloaks and throwing small debris every which-way. All the richly colored birds either fled or fell to the ruptured earth in lifeless chunks.​

​

But if all their guts were exposed, so too were the guts of the GenoHaradan's secret vault. At the bottom of this new crevasse, a metal tunnel with flickering consoles and guide lights was now exposed. Or at least it would be when most of the dust settled. ​

​

"Hurray," said Meliant. "Now all of you go home, and tell everyone how great I am at this."​

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His retainers looked uncertainly at one another, but when Meliant spoke no further they began a general exodus back to the waiting cruiser, muttering to themselves. ​

​

Meliant pointed the tip of his sword at Eurydice. "Except you. Come here."​

​

He had the conversational tone of a vaguely impatient person - which was to say he was as in good a mood as he was capable of getting. When the luckless neophyte joined him, he indicated the bottom of the crevasse with the point of his sword.​

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"It's a four-way. Just my luck." If Eurydice peered closely she would see that was indeed the case. Meliant now had his sword-point stuck carelessly in the dirt, with his hands resting on the hilt. "You're a seer, aren't you? Which way do I go?"​

​

Eurydice ​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Vector Monk Seris Velmora​

The jungle's heat was an unwelcome embrace, humidity that would have left lesser beings wilted and complaining. Weakness displayed was weakness multiplied. His father's words. It was noticed, of course. How could he not? But he refused to grant it power by acknowledging any discomfort.

When the figure sank to a single knee before him, Lysander's shadow spilled over the man like ink across parchment. Something ancestral whispered in the young Sith. Not quite memory, but the ghost of one, of being deferred to. Servants bowing their heads. That familiarity brought no pride per se but the primitive display affected him all the same. Power, especially when offered freely, was its own kind of intoxicant.

A loose tunic, damp with perspiration, clung to his lithe frame as he studied the weathered sculpture. "Vector," rolled the name slowly, dry at the edges, "if you prostrate yourself before every statue, we'll never reach the ruins before nightfall." The corner of his mouth quirked upward. He wasn't truly concerned about pace; time was abundant. But the performance felt better suited to a throne room.

Lysander extended his palm up, fingers beckoning toward the foliage rather than offering aid. "What else can you tell me of this place? Any significance beyond what the archives mention." Sometimes, it was better to hear perspective from a sentient being than to scroll through one's datapad.

What mattered most was this.. a devotee of the Order, and a Kainite, walking the same path today, each a different flame of the same sacred fire. Here, beyond Coruscant's political theater, they might continue forging something extraordinary.

He glanced sideways at Seris. "And you? What does your intuition tell you that our scholarly friend might miss?"

 

[Blade Ice]

Theme: Unforgiven
Tags: OPEN

---

Combat boots thudded lightly against the stone floor of the old ruins. Had he been here before? The thought crossed his mind, but he couldn't remember for sure, after awhile of being just about everywhere in the Galaxy it was hard to discern one ruin from another. Maybe he had but nothing came to mind in that moment that triggered a distinct memory. That and nothing in this place seemed to be distinctive enough to tell ancient sith ruins apart from these jedi ones.

The writings on the wall and various objects that weren't worth looting were the only thing that gave it away as truly Jedi. That and that funny feeling like you were being watched and judged as you moved forth into the complex. Yet the old Darth in his old, battered duster coat that was a patch work of leather scraps moved forward.

The Rebel Sith looked more like homeless vagabond then a Dark Lord of the sith. From his long duster that had seen so many battles not a single stitch of it was of the original coat it had once been, his floral print button up shirt under his jacket, and his unkempt look. Other then the confidence and fearlessness he walked with no one would see this man as much.

Not even the acolytes and other covenant children that had come here paid him much of a second glance. Probably just thought him some crazy that wandered in from the Jedha wilderness. In truth he was here to keep an eye on them, a chaperone meant to keep the younglings mostly from falling to the ghosts that haunted this place.

As he continued on listening and watching over the others from a distance he came to a stop. From he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of death sticks. With the flick of his wrist a single stick floated to the top and he placed it between his lips. Yet before he could return the pack back into, he folds of the Jacket and retrieve his matches. He heard a voice speaking up behind him.

"Those are bad for your health."

He knew the voice instinctively. The voice of a man he had hated for a good part of his life, granted he hated a lot of people over the years. Yet this one had held it the longest. He returned the pack from the jacket and pulled out a book of matches. He flipped it open and struck the match as he seemingly ignored the ghost behind.

"Just like you, never listening to good advice when its given. How many wars did you start just because you couldn't shut your mouth?"

Blade just lit the death stick and took a few quick puffs.

"How many of your teachers, could you have avoided making enemies of if you had only been obedient and listened?"

Blade's orange eyes looked off at a nearby wall with some writing on it like he was trying to decipher it as he took another drag of his death stick.

"That need to fight and argue in you has always been your biggest fault. Your need to rebel against every authority you ever met, is what got most of your family killed!"

The Ghost was trying to goad him and he knew it. As he took another drag, he turned to see that familiar face. "Hmm." He let out a little sigh as he looked at the man that was about inch or to shorter than him.

"You could have saved them, but you chose to fight a war. So, you lost them."

Blade glared at the ghost, just wanting it to go away. He knew it wouldn't, that it would continue to poke at him. That is what this place did it wanted you to confront those horrible truths. It wanted you to dwell on your wickedness and sin. It wanted you to break and repent but for the first face it should him there was no regret, because the man before him may have been a jedi but that was not how his life started. Blade pulled the death stick from his lips holding it between the middle and index finger of his left hand.

"I was hoping it would be Vega for the first mind trick, not you brother. At least for as big of an arse as he was…" He realized then he wasn't even sure if Vega was dead but it didn't really matter. "I sometimes enjoyed his company." Blade smirked slightly.

"You were always a worm little brother. Self-righteous to a fault, you dying as a jedi was enviable, Sethrom. We both know it was you who killed the only thing I loved in this world, that you slit her throat. Then you took my daughter and sold her to the very people I was fighting, as a peace offering. That you twisted our older brother Abel's mind to attempt to slay me. Even if in the end you found the light and repented, you are just as responsible for everything I did and will do, as me."

He lifted the death stick back up to lips as glared at the ghost of his little brother. Then took a puff and blew the smoke in the direction of the ghost.

"Try harder next time, show me someone who didn't start me on this path."

With that Blade turned and walked away leaving the ghost to vanish.

 

[Eurydice]

Chandaar | Meliant

At the back of the pack, Eurydice rubbed her eye. Meliant and his terrible sword had cleaved their way through solid rock and durasteel, spraying all manner of debris among his retinue.

Something - a grain of sand or a small rock - had scratched her cornea. Fortunately, they were being ordered away. The cruiser promised a refresher, which promised a steady stream of clean water which she could use to flush out whatever was irritating her eyeball.

Then, the tip of Meliant's awful sword pinned Eurydice in place without touching her. Every muscle went stiff, painfully so.

"Wh-what?" she squeaked, incredulous, then sniffled pitifully. She squinted up at Meliant, one eye red and swollen, then blinked. Blinking hurt, so she winced.

Good things did not happen when you kept Lords waiting, so she scampered forward, practically cowering before him. Through her watery gaze, Eurydice peered at the tunnel's intersection below as best she could.

"I'm…I'm not-"

I'm not a compass!

Did Meliant know what a seer did? Not that she was about to question him aloud. Perhaps there were those who could divine pathways, but Eurydice could not. She wouldn't tell him such, lest she end up chunks on the ground.

"Erm,” she mumbled. The girl closed her eyes and pretended to meditate for a few seconds.

"There," she said, pointing to the leftmost passage. Her finger trembled.

 

[Efret Farr]

Rubble crumbled under Efret's feet. The Light didn't similarly give way as she moved through the ruins.

Funny that it gathered all around her now, now that it didn't have her. It should have answered her in the Gungans' sacred swamps. It should have protected her from Mercy . It was too late, plain and simple. She had found another path to follow; another family to cherish, to assist. They wanted to find a planet called Tira. Efret wasn't one for astronomy, by she had been drawn to Jedha anyway. Maybe it was the ruins. Maybe it was her history on the Pilgrim Moon, albeit the Holy City rather than the tablelands.

The last time she was here, she came with Jedi. She had encountered a Dark side Elite in a local museum. Her duel with him had nearly broken her body and, from her perspective as a Jedi Master at the time, had begun to break her mind. To meld it with his. But now that her mindset and position had shifted, she realized that the curse he had cast over her hadn't been that at all. It had been a gift. It had unwrapped the Jedi dogma constricting her mind and heart, and had set her free.

She was at one distinct advantage here, as she had been years ago under a different banner too: she couldn't hear the apparitions trying to tempt her back to the Light with their sweet nothings—if they were even there, even whispering. The Force knew her just as she knew it, or at least half of it, so perhaps it wasn't even trying to get her attention with auditory sensations. If she didn't look at them, it was like they weren't there.

But the Light did pull at her desperately with each step carrying her deeper into Jedha's desiccated skin, its pressure and touch like the delicate and entitled fingers of children. Sadness flared through her, but she didn't allow it to slow her pace. After rounding a few more dusty corners, a presence of another flesh-and-blood being flickered into her senses.

"Hello?"

Her hand waved and a voice, tinny and monotoned like a feminine-programmed protocol droid's, came out of a round pendant hanging close to her throat.

"I'm real," she announced, hennaed fingers moving in Galactic Basic Sign Language, though whoever was ahead might well be able to tell that on their own.

She squinted instinctively, trying to focus on the outline of the being in the Force Sight to figure out if they were now in the same passage as her or a ways off yet. It didn't help, of course, as she wasn't seeing with her own physical faculties.

Caelis Venn​

 

[Delvin jeth]

Ra'Shayne Vorr Madrona A’Mia

Lahona | mind prison

Delvin walked into the prison the guards didn't seem to mind his presence at all as they whent about their business he was exerting control through Qâzoi Kyantuska. Guards walked around him and looked through him as though he was a pole or wall he had sensed the two other sith when he got the the information he expected other sith to show up but he didn't expect them to be so quick.

As he heard Ra'shayne speak "there is safety in numbers but rakatan mind prisons are no joke so be prepared for anything" delvin said standing there.

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania | Vector Monk

Lehon did not whisper. It breathed. Seris felt it the moment her boots sank slightly into the damp, loamy earth—the way the air clung heavy with heat and decay, thick with life that had grown too wild, too old, too untouched. Vines coiled like veins through broken stone. Massive trees loomed overhead, their canopies choking the sky into fractured strips of light. Somewhere in the distance, something howled—low, territorial, hungry.

Better. This place didn’t pretend to be serene. It didn’t suffocate her with quiet judgment. It promised teeth. Her lips curved faintly.

Her hands hovered over the twin crimson blades on her hips, imagining them igniting with a sharp, violent snap-hiss, their glow bleeding into the humid air. She stepped past a half-swallowed ruin—ancient Rakatan architecture, cracked and sinking into the jungle like it had been dragged down and claimed.

The Force here wasn’t balanced. It churned. Old. Primal. Uncivilized. Seris rolled her shoulders, letting it crawl along her senses, not resisting it—inviting it. “Yes…” she murmured under her breath.

Behind her—them. Lysander’s presence was steady, controlled as ever. A blade kept sheathed until the exact right moment. Irritating. Necessary. For now.

His question lingered. What are you expecting to find here? Seris didn’t turn right away. Her gaze traced the jungle ahead instead—the shifting undergrowth, the subtle tremor of something moving just beyond sight, the way the ruins created blind corners and choke points. Places where things hunted. It may or may not have been real. Maybe it was just something she wanted to be.

“Something that hunts back,” she said finally, voice low, edged with anticipation rather than thought. “Not relics. Not ghosts.”

A faint smirk pulled at her lips. “Something that thinks it owns this place. Something worth killing.”

Her eyes flicked—briefly—to the other one. Vector Monk. Still. Composed. Watching.

Seris’ expression didn’t change much, but the dismissal was immediate. He carried himself like he was above the mud, above the blood, above the reality of what this place was. Stuffy. Soft. Boring.

If something lunged out of the brush right now, she doubted he’d even strike first. He’d probably analyze it. “When it comes, don’t slow me down. Nothing slows me until I am ready.”

​

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Open....

​

Krasskorr slipped away from the landing platform, moving quietly past the dormant remnants of Xim's ancient technology. The Saruton attuned himself to the shifting currents of the Force, his footsteps barely audible on the obsidian-slick stone, like a predator navigating the graveyard of an empire that had existed long before his own dark master.

The corridors leading to the main vault were deliberately constricted, creating chokepoints to trap intruders in deadly zones. Krasskorr paid little attention to the intricate depictions of the Despot's conquests, his golden eye scanning the shadows for the flicker of a droid's sensor or the subtle distortion of a cloaking device.

He moved past a pair of dormant war droids, massive and multi-limbed, their surfaces marred by the wear of countless years. As he approached the upper gallery that overlooked the grand entrance of the archive, he slowed his steps. His split tongue darted out, sampling the air once again, and he detected a foul odor that lingered ominously.

His jaw tightened as he recognized the familiar scent, though uncertainty lingered. A Force Bellow surged within him, erupting violently into the air with a fierce declaration : "I SMELL YOU!" The warning echoed across the valley and the hills that cradled the ancient vault complex.

With a roar that reverberated through the timeworn stone, Krasskorr harnessed his fury, propelling himself upward. His enormous claws sank into the ornate frieze of the gallery wall, allowing him to ascend with alarming speed.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Jedha

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

The Kyber Heart didn't feel hostile. That would've been too easy. Ace crossed into the ruins without slowing, the observatory rose ahead in broken layers, its structure collapsed but not empty. The Force here didn't push against him, it was more like... it was watching.

The center of all this? Why they were even here? Tira. Some hidden world, buried in star charts and foresight, something the Jedi had once mapped and hidden away. The Covenant wanted it found. So he'd do his part.

Ace stepped inside and the air stilled. Sound thinned. His presence in the Force folded inward out of habit, controlled, quiet. Still, the place registered him. Not resistance. Just awareness... waiting.

"…Vayun."

He stopped. No one called him that, no one except...

Ace turned and there she was. His mother, Orryn, stood behind him. She wasn't distorted, fractured, she was whole. He didn't react beyond that. His posture stayed relaxed, expression unchanged.

"...I'm not doing this." He said.

"I did not come here to argue."

Her voice was steady. Calm. The same tone he'd come to recognize through fragments and memory. The same tone he remembered the day he finally met her... and lost her.

He exhaled quietly, almost like a laugh. "Then you're in the wrong place."

Silence settled, but it wasn't empty. The Force filled it, subtle and present. Orryn studied him during the quiet.

"You have gotten better at holding it in."

"Didn't really have a choice." Ace replied.

"That is not true. You have always had a choice."

That pulled a slight tightening through his gaze. Nothing more. For a moment, neither of them moved. Like everything that mattered was already understood. Then Orryn's expression softened.

"Is this what you think you must become?"

Ace didn't answer immediately. His eyes shifted past her, toward the deeper corridors. The objective. The path.

"…Doesn't matter what I think." He said. "This is what works."

Orryn watched him, weighing whether to push further. She didn't. Not because she couldn't, because she understood. That was the part that lingered. It wasn't resistance, it was understanding.

Ace stepped past her without hesitation, refusing to even glance back. The presence wearing his mother's face didn't follow, but it didn't disappear either. The deeper he moved, the quieter it became and ahead...

He could already feel the next one waiting.

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Nilira Vornix
​

The tablelands were colder than Arris would've thought. She tried to remember what cold was 'supposed' to feel like, but that time when she was all flesh and blood was long ago. Now, it was more like information represented as an approximation of feeling. Comfort and discomfort didn't really exist for her... just, it was colder than inside the ship.

Arris looked back over her shoulder at Nilira, who followed along. They stood at an entrance into the ruins. She knew other Sith were nearby, including Ace, but they all went their separate ways.

"Alright," she looked back at the crumbling hole. "This should be easy enough. Look for anything that might contain information... Scrolls, hieroglyphs, ancient computers. Not really sure what these monks were working with."

Scholarship was not her thing, less so when it concerned the Force and its various religions.

She hopped down the hole, bending her knees in the landing. It was dark inside, but that was to be expected. She grabbed the chemlight at her hip and flicked it on, filling the space with a yellow-orange glow. Dry bramble and animal bones were the first things she noticed among the sandy stone.

"Seems something here made a nest," she remarked.

A few steps forward and the small room opened into a hallway, splitting their route into two possible directions.

"Left or right?" She asked Nilira.

 

[Anet Raine]

Mellia Raine​

Anet groaned at her sister's appearance.

'Oh, here we go,' She thought as the half-rattataki opened her mouth.

The senator turned as her sister trotted onto the bridge and claimed the command chair for herself. Anet, meanwhile, leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed.

"No, the security is fine. You just have clearance like the rest of us." It was a family vessel, after all, but what was the point in arguing with her?

Her brow perked up at that last comment, however. Was that a half-assed compliment laced with vanity? Not that Anet would even entertain the subject. Her obligations in the Republic Senate were not what this trip was about.

"What are you doing here, Mell? I'm sure there's a fashion week somewhere that needs you to fill a chair."

She considered finding a world to drop Mellia off, but her detour already placed her dangerously behind the rest.

There was a bit of a jolt as the ship rocked gently while exiting hyperspace, then jumped again. Naturally, the onboard computer would keep her apprised.

"Now en route to Rakata Prime."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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


“No I understand why we are here Tamsin, just run me through the plan again, I will pay attention this time.”

The hint of sarcasm was laced within his voice as a sly smirk cracked his lips. A buzzing in his ear caused him to smack his neck.

“This place is infested with insects. I say once we get what we came for we just obliterate the damn planet.”

The trail towards the ancient city was rough and overgrown. It had not been cared for in a long time causing plant life and animal life to take charge within its ruined walls.

Varin drew his blade and started hacking at the bushes and the tangled plants. The wet humid and hot air causing him to sweat more than usual.

“You know, this is the third tropical planet I have been to and coincidentally the one I end up on with you is just miserable.”

His gaze flicked to the small frame that followed with him.

“I should have brought Sinew with to help track down this damn city too.”

He stopped just before a thick slab of ancient duracrete wall, his sword scraping and sparking along its side. He eyed it for a moment before he found a small crawl space.

His gaze then fell to Tamsin.

“Only one of us can fit in there.”

Tamsin Starfall​