Dominion The Mines of Silence | THR Dominion of Kenari

[Torn Eskol]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
MINES OF SILENCE

Aiden Porte l Roman Vossari l Inez l Sibylla Abrantes l Verity Suun
Direct to: Roman Vossari

SHADOWS WITH TEETH

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He was a shadow with teeth,

And moved like one too. Fast, but smooth. Every move, every step, foot position, calculated. Cold. No fanfare. No speeches. No wasted movements. His eyes turned towards the other one, Inez as she fired. The blaster fire was rapid, and the push was all Torn needed to build up some momentum. Roman pushed him. Torn allowed himself- losing his balance for a moment, but rolled over a crate to gain it back. The crate moved just under his weight as he rolled over it.

Roman, if he was lesser of a fighter, or perhaps not as experienced- he might've thought Torn didn't do it on purpose. Or maybe Torn's ruse was that good. The blaster shots went wide, scouring the wall and sending debris down on them.

He executed a perfectly-timed, perfectly-formed front kick into the crate towards Roman. He grimaced, narrowing his eyes and turning towards Inez. His own sidearm came out, and then- the hunter in him wasn't amused. Wasn't done yet. No-

His suppressed pistol- a staple of SIA operatives and assassins, hit not the lights, but one of the power junction boxes that lined the wall to regulate power to the lights and machinery. It whirred and whined, then overloaded after electricity arced through the air. And then- blackness. Darkness, light so dim that it would be hard to see even a few inches in front of you. No light down here.

But there was Torn's glowing eyes. They moved up slightly. He was smiling in the darkness. He could see perfectly. His eyes were honed, trained, lethal. He dropped low, moving in a slither like motion, dropping his knee just above the ground and moving forward. She had the ranged weapon and was seemingly more willing to use it effectively. She was a target for now. He went in to step behind her- he turned his body towards Roman, one of his feet just on the inside of her legs.

And then, that sneaky bastard went to grab both of her legs by her knees and slam her to the floor.

How rude, he was.

​

 

[Scour]

Like a heartbeat monitor, Captain Scour witnessed and felt the Jedi's will fluctuate, burdened by the oppressive weight of his own presence, and then stabilize back into serenity. The resolve in Aiden's eyes was seemingly absolute, but the Captain saw through it, a facade. There was struggle, there was conflict, as was the paradox of the Force and of life itself.

As Aiden spoke, Scour mouthed the same words but gave no utterance. His perception seemingly giving the illusion of foresight. In actuality Aiden Porte moved in slow motion to him, but this could change at a moments notice in combat.

As Scour kept his gaze, a scrutinizing one, oh, ever scrutinizing, on the Jedi Knight, he also sharpened his presence in the dark side of the Force, sucking in all the ambient pain and suffering, enforcing a moment that sparked a crescendo. A nova, that happened in an instant, when the Captain raised his offhand, dropping the two hacked limbs to the floor and forming his hand into that of a snap, and snap he did. At first it was nothing, but within the metaphysical correspondences that went beyond sight, vibrations and and vergences went taunt, attempting to go into and through the Jedi Knight, and following the direct line of sight that Captain Scour was really focusing on.

Aiden was never his target, but the entrance and exit of the tunnel behind them, or the cavern itself, was, and when the Captain snapped his fingers, everything fell apart. The ceiling itself cracked and splintered, a fiery explosion of combustion, exploding and hurling rock, debris, dust, boulder, and stone into the cavern. Avalanching toward them both, as the Gen'dai readied his blastsword, and took an advantageous swipe to drag the blade across the Jedi Knight's chest, in an attempt to make him backstep into the incoming perilous assault of earthen upheaval. Seeking to seal the jedi knight in with no where to go except through.

Meanwhile the Captain laughed in mocking tone.

 

[Verity Suun]

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OBJECTIVE I
Equipment: Seraph Eques III Armor, Igneus Gladius IV Weapon

With a grunt, the Admiral hefted her rifle and let loose on the enemy once more. She'd tried to minimize long-range fire while Roman found his center, but a battlefield didn't always allow you to do as you like. The man had recognized this as well in forcing himself back to his feet. It wasn't easy to power through trauma, and it could hardly be said to be the healthiest option, but it was the only option at the moment.

Unlike Inez and Roman, Verity didn't try for subtle. The thick, white armor wasn't meant for stealth. The Imperium demanded their enemy see them coming. To know their fate had been sealed before the first blast was ignited. These outworlers' gods should pity the fact they knew not the death that walked among them; they stood proudly in her path believing they would emerge victorious.

Their trio diverged, and for a time left Verity to shoulder the brunt of the fire. An energy shield flared into existence to deflect much of it as her boots crunched into the ground. It had been a while since the last time Verity had felt so pinned down by enemy fire. Then again, she didn't have a full compliment of Knights with her to distribute the load. Nor did she knew what Inez and Roman had planned.

As the distance closed, the Imperiium Admiral set to work pummeling and disarming opponents. It was quick work.

Until whatever must have amounted as Special Forces arrived. Verity even caught a glimpse of Inex being flung aside by one of them whose attention turned toward the tank. Verity smirked. "COME ON." The rifle whipped over her shoulder to secure it out of the way as the Gen'dai approached.

Servos wound up as Verity charged forward to meet the muscular abomination. She twisted aside and delivered a heavy bodyshot to the fiend. They were no slower in responding as the fist that'd sailed by her head snapped upward. The Gen'dai's elbow slammed down on her shoulder; Verity shoved backto regain her position for the next exchange.

Roman Vossari | Inez | Torn Eskol
Aiden Porte | Scour​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

OBJECTIVE II​

Dominique smiled. Indispensable was she? That was the point. Unlike those fools in the former Corporate Authorities of Denon, Dominique had no intention of letting Denon tear itself apart or let CorpSec run free destroying it in place of the actual terrorists. Nonetheless, her world was far from what the High Republic with its lofty ideals envisioned for its members. The same circumstances that caused turmoil under the Galactic Alliance existed even now. A planet and its people did not change in a day. Not even a year. But politics cared not for reasonable timelines and expectations. Her job was not only solidifying Denon's future reality, but in keeping galactic governments from making... reactionary over corrections. Making it obvious what they would lose by being overzealous was therefore part of her job.

Arguably it should be the PreX's job, but everyone knew they were just a puppet. Leave it to the Senator of Denon then to handle matters.

When they reached the edge of camp, Aurelian looked out at the haze and saw a desolation. A potentially useful desolation, but hardly one full of promise. Dominique looked over at the King and Chancellor with a small smile. "I'll make it mean something to everyone." If they could rebuild Denon in a decade, Dominique was determined to show indisputable evidence this planet was salvageable in just as much time. It would never be a mining world again, but agriculture? A place to house all the refugees being ferried about and causing consternation in the Senate? Oh, yes, Denon -- and Dominique -- were indispensable.

She turned to watch as the man gave her a bow. So quick. So easy was that mask worn. Dominique smiled, but inwardly she wondered how to get him to open up for more than a single moment. Did he not recognize how difficult it was for her to do the same? Too many daggers held behind backs. Too much poison to go around. Well, if being deterred was in her capabilities then Dominique wouldn't be a Director of Denon. All things would be revealed in time.

Just as suddenly, he offered gratitude, which had her blinked behind her glareshades. Had that been the real Aurelian, or the mask?

Dominique slowly turned her head to look back out at the radioactive wastes. Well, the organizations certainly had their work cutout for them. She'd have to remind them to take pictures of the worst of it so they could prove the measure of their results later. And to ensure investments in the research groups would hasten redevelopment. There was a system nearby with Isotope-5, perhaps...

The black-cloaked figure turned to make her way back toward the center of camp where her people would have established a control center. So much to do. So many people to impress upon the value of investing in her world's countless companies. Just another day in the life in the Republic.

Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Raylin Fall]

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Roman Vossari

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Roman Vossari

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Aiden Porte

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Aiden Porte

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Verity Suun

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Verity Suun

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Inez

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Inez

MINES OF SILENCE
ASSAULTING THE BLAST DOOR




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The Pathfinders didn't waste any time at all actually-they rapidly moved into positions, taking up defensive spots around the blast doors. They were able to secure a foothold, and through a strategic movement of crates and utilizing the terrain to their advantage, they all managed to take cover. The Black Sun were good at a lot of things, but they weren't soldiers, commandos, or had the training and experience the Pathfinders had. Raylin alone cultivated years and multiple agencies of experiences, from the Alliance Marines to the Raider battalion, now to the Pathfinders.

The Marine in him was vicious, but the Medic he was now was concerned with the well-being of their HVT.

He turned and grit his teeth, tucking into the crate as he slammed another charge pack into his rifle. The Black Sun, for the time being, had been beaten back- or were more focused on the Jedi. The Pathfinders spread out, and began the arduous task of figuring out how to get the blast door open. There was a panel there, and one of the team members went to work poking at it. The blast door provided good cover- but at the moment only. Once it was open, it was a whole new set of problems.

One that Raylin was confident his team could deal with.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Scour
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The instant Scour's fingers snapped, Aiden felt the Force convulse. It wasn't the clean hum of energy through space it was raw, twisted, wrong. His instincts demanding his attention before the sound of rending stone caught up.

The ceiling above them split with a thunderous crack. A wave of molten heat and sound ripped through the cavern, turning air into fire. Chunks of rock sheared loose, cascading like an avalanche from hell.

Aiden didn't think. He moved.

The Force surged through him, reflex turned purpose. His saber slashed up in a diagonal sweep not to block, but to redirect. The first slab of rock shattered under the weight of his will, pulverized midair into a thousand shards that sprayed harmlessly aside. The next came down faster, heavier. He thrust his free hand upward, and a barrier erupted between him and the storm, translucent, shimmering with strain as it caught the weight of the mountain itself.

Stone screamed against invisible pressure.

Scour was already on him, the swords edge trailing firelight. Aiden pivoted, turning just as the blade skimmed across his chest plate, scoring a molten groove across his armor. The impact sent him staggering a step, and for a heartbeat the wall of debris threatened to collapse over them both.

He planted his feet, centered his weight, and pushed.

The barrier exploded outward, a shockwave of pure energy bursting through the collapsing cavern. Rocks and dust reversed course in a violent surge, right towards Scour.

 

[Roman Vossari]

LOCATION: Objective I
TAGS: Inez | Verity Suun | Torn Eskol

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The crate slammed into Roman's chest before he could brace. The impact tore the air from his lungs, sending him crashing backward across the floor. Pain flared sharply along his ribs, but pure instinct took hold. His hand shot forward, palm open, and something inside him answered.

The crate skidded back with a violent shove, scraping sparks from the durasteel. Roman froze, chest heaving, his pulse roaring. For a heartbeat, the Force felt like a storm he'd been drowning beneath his whole life. Now, he stood in its heart, alive and unhidden.

Then the lights died, swallowing the cavern in blackness. His breath hitched, heart hammering. The old panic clawed at him, the cold helplessness, leaving him trapped and powerless. But this time, he forced it down.

Roman closed his eyes. It was pointless in the dark, yet it steadied him as he reached out. The world bled into other senses: sound and movement, with a rising heat. Verity burned at the edge of his perception, a furnace of focus and armor. Inez was closer, a flickering spark, fierce but fading, pain threading through her light. Torn, however, was a void; cold and deliberate, pulsing with malice.

Roman drew a ragged breath, jaw tight.

He raised his hand, fingers trembling, and pushed. A sudden burst of invisible force rippled outward, raw and uneven, aimed at the dark where Torn's presence stalked. The force wasn't elegant or trained. It was a shield born of instinct, fear, and a deep need for protection.

He felt the strain burning through him, his arm shaking, heart pounding with every pulse. But he held the line. He wasn't running anymore.

 

[Isla Reingard]

Location: Objective II
Tags: Sven Halestorm

Isla groaned dramatically. She brushed aside a hanging vine as they walked. "You just had to make that sound profound, didn't you? You could've just said, 'Yeah, the moss is cool,' but no... now it's patient and wise. I swear, you Jedi have some kind of competition to see who can make nature sound the most philosophical."

Still, her grin lingered. There was something comforting about the way he spoke, like the world slowed down just to match his words. Even if half of them sounded like riddles. "Alright, fine," she conceded, kicking a pebble down the path. "Maybe I am listening. But don't tell my instructors, or they'll start thinking this little 'field trip' is actually working."

Her brown eyes flashed with humor. "And I definitely don't want them assigning me to the quiet reflection group again. Those kids meditate so hard they forget how to blink." She hopped onto a low rock, balancing as she talked. "But I think you're wrong about something," she added, looking back at him with mock seriousness. "If I make that ballad, the rhyme structure will be perfect. 'Master Halestorm, wise and gray, teaching moss what not to say.' Tragic, yet educational."

The forest around them grew denser, the air warmer and richer with scent. Isla fell silent for a few paces, then glanced up at him again. A hint of sincerity cut through her teasing. "Direction, huh? That's not really my thing. I don't usually go looking for purpose; it just sort of bumps into me, usually right before I get scolded."

Her steps slowed as the trees opened to reveal a stream ahead, water glinting between roots and moss. She crouched near the bank, dipping her fingers in the cool current. "Maybe you're right, though," she said quietly. "Maybe the journey isn't about the destination, but about what finds us along the way." Then she looked over her shoulder, mischief returning in full force. "Still, if the Force wants us to find lunch, it better start showing us where the sandwiches grow."

 

[Sven Halestorm]

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Objective: II - The New Frontier
Location: Kenari Wilderness
Tag: Isla Reingard


Sven came to stand beside her at the stream’s edge, the gentle burble of water filling the spaces between their words. He did not rush to answer her; he let the quiet settle first, the way one lets ripples fade before trying to see the reflection beneath. “You would be surprised,” he said at last, “how often the Force does lead us to food. Though I’m afraid sandwiches rarely grow on trees. Even here.”

Her jest about Jedi turning moss into philosophy drew another faint, knowing curve of his mouth. “If moss had something to teach,” he said, “I suspect it would choose you before it chose me.” He dipped his own fingertips into the stream, testing the current as though greeting it rather than observing it. “Not because you are patient, but because you are honest. The Force has far less use for composure than students are taught to believe.”

He looked toward her, not down at her, not through her, but to her, with a gentleness that felt like it had been earned rather than assumed. “Direction isn’t a destination,” he continued. “And you do seek it, even if you don’t name it as such. Running from chores is not the same as running without purpose. You followed the hum out here because something in you wanted truth, not instruction.” A pause, soft as stepping into sunlight. “That is more than most ever learn to follow.”

Her invented ballad earned him a small exhale, half amusement, half surrender. “If you truly intend to turn me into a tragic legend,” he murmured, “I can only hope you leave my hair some measure of dignity. Perhaps wait until I’ve actually gone gray before you assign me to history.” His tone was light, but his eyes glinted: dry wit tucked neatly beneath restraint.

He rose from his crouch, glancing along the forest’s path where the stream curved deeper into the undergrowth. “Purpose doesn’t always appear as revelation. Sometimes it looks like curiosity dragging you by the sleeve.” With a gesture of his chin toward the water’s bend, he added, “And sometimes it sounds suspiciously like a Padawan demanding lunch before enlightenment.”

Then, with that calm, unhurried cadence that made even humor feel grounded in something older than speech:
“Come. If the sandwiches refuse to grow on trees, we will simply have to let the Force show us where they fell off the branch.”

Even the Force couldn't make Sandwiches grow on Trees.​