Faction The Protection of Selvaris [NJO/GADF]

[Ran Serys]

THE PROTECTION OF SELVARIS:
A JEDI WATCHMEN & NJO STORY

“The footage doesn’t lie. The Iskalloni raids have become more brutal while also being more efficient. Raiding parties have increased in size and the frequency in which they raid has increased exponentially. That is not to mention that the amount of slaves taken has more than doubled from previous campaigns. Why the change? We do not know. We sent a Jedi ambassador to Iskadrell to speak with their leaders. He hasn’t returned communication since he reached the planet. That was two planetary raids ago.” The Kel Dor on the holoprojector paused before relaying more information.

“Our projections say their next target is the Selvaris system. Your system, Watchman Serys.” He paused again waiting for Ran’s response.

“I see.” It came simply as Ran began to think of what a raid on the Selvaris System could mean for its future. The system was underdeveloped. Selvaris, the system’s most metropolitan planet, was composed of only a handful of colonies after a history marked by disease, war, famine, and several different near cataclysmic events. Other systems had populations in the trillions, while Selvaris’ had never been so lucky. A raid on Selvaris would be another break in an already ruined foundation. As Watchman of the System, and permanent resident and founder of the Jedi Enclave on Selvaris, Ran could not let this come to pass.

“Thank you for informing me of this, Admiral Rill. Send me the footage of these raids. I will pass them onto the council and reach out to my fellow Jedi, Watchman and all. If I am to protect this system from the Iskalloni, I cannot do it alone.” Ran admitted.

“A wise course of action,” The Kel Dor Admiral added. “One that I will echo to the Sector Rangers and Marshals. They may be able to provide reinforcement. I, too, will allocate what resources I can in aid.”

“Thank you.” The Knight replied grateful for the assistance.

“I will keep my network open to you. Our information says the Iskalloni are licking any wounds sustained in their last raid, and due to disturbances on the hyperspace lanes the Iskalloni will have to take a longer route to reach you. You have time to prepare, but move hastily. Admiral Rill, out.” The naval man signed off.

With their final words exchanged, Ran went to work. Communications went out to her fellows on the Jedi High Council, the Jedi Watchman, and her contemporaries in the Order. They had a few days between them and the Iskalloni. They would use that time to make a plan they could count on.

Obj. 1 - Heart of the Iskalloni: A Jedi strike team, Strike Team Vos, infiltrates the capital world of the Iskalloni to find out the fate of they’re possibly lost, captured, or fallen jedi ambassador. Will they follow in the ambassador's footsteps or make progress in their goal with or against the Iskalloni?

Obj. 2 - Selvaris’ Protection: A Jedi strike team and boarding party, Strike Team Sunrider, meet the Iskalloni at the edge of the Selvaris system, aboard the cyborg slaver's capital ship the Jedi hope to curb the Iskalloni's campaign of destruction and subjugation by force or subterfuge.

Obj. 3 - System's Ambush: With a strike team inside the Iskalloni capital ship, A second strike team of Jedi, dubbed Strike Team Solo, and a small contingent of Galactic Alliance Military form to put their star fighters to use in a series of ambush-style tactics, crippling Iskalloni scouting vessels, and transport ships. It is one more step in guiding the advancing capital ship to a forced surrender and bringing about the end to the Iskalloni Slave Raids.

 

[Ran Serys]

Five Galactic Standard Days Later
On the Edge of the Selvaris System
Obj. 2 - Selvaris' Protection

For a people so invested in technology, Ran found the Iskalloni to be quite primitive. She attributed her view on them to their isolationist tendencies. They were a mostly unwilling participant in galactic affairs, and were only forced to make their moves when pushed by others in almost everything. Politics, warfare, and even with their obsession- technology. The slave raiding campaign they found themselves on, Ran thought might’ve been an attempt to push back either by their leadership or a rogue element. Regardless of the source of their directive, the Iskalloni were causing chaos in Galactic Alliance space and needed to be stopped. Ran pledged to stop them before they reached Selvaris.

With an assist and distraction from Strike Team Solo, Ran and the rest of Strike Team Sunrider were able to board the outdated Iskalloni capital ship seemingly unnoticed. Like rodents in the walls they went undetected. Their entry point had been a garbage chute. It was always a garbage chute, though this one was particularly nasty and filled with the toxic refuse so synonymous with the Iskalloni’s native brand of biotechnology. They weren’t there for long as Ran led the team to a cargo hold. From the chute and into a duct, then onto the head of an unsuspecting Iskalloni guard. More machine than man, Ran could tell by the look in his eyes. She knew she would have to end him before he sounded the alarm physically or technologically. Quickly bisected by the activated blue light of Ran’s lightsaber blade, he was the first foe felled in preservation of the Selvaris system’s safety and so much more.

A quick look around indicated the strike team was alone. There were no other guards stationed in the dimly lit, empty and cage-lined cargo hold. Even with the lack of occupying slaves, the cages were no more humane. Traces of blood, and other remnants of slaves long gone remained. The Iskalloni decided those they abducted had no need for cleanliness or comfort. Ran shook her head for the umpteenth time in her life at the barbarism of another.

“The coast is clear, and I hear no alarms.” Ran observed as her lightsaber’s blade retracted. “We should switch our communicators to a private channel, then divide and conquer. If we split up in pairs or groups, one pair may be discovered and then act as a distraction while the others continue to cripple the ship's systems.” Ran dictated, getting straight to the heart of their operation. This was their plan, but plans rarely survive contact with the enemy, and the Iskalloni were a mostly unknown enemy. “You all,” Ran gestured to several of her companions, forgoing formal titles for the moment. “Come with me.”

Tags: Open
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[Valery Noble]

Heart of the Iskalloni

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Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

The jungle opened for the three Jedi, revealing the smoke-stained skyline of the Iskalloni capital just ahead. Valery stood at the edge of a ridge overlooking the city, her hands resting on her belt and her expression tense but focused. The descent into the outskirts wouldn't be easy. Patrols moved in predictable but well-coordinated loops, and the roads below were crawling with both security droids and heavily augmented Iskalloni enforcers. It was no wonder their envoy had gone missing.

Behind her, two sets of footsteps came to a stop.

She glanced back at Azurine and Everest, her Padawans. They had trained hard for missions like this, but Valery's eyes lingered on each of them for a second longer than usual. The stakes here were high. These raids had grown darker, more efficient, and the possibility that they would find what was left of a fallen Jedi ambassador weighed on her.

"We're close," she said quietly, motioning to the slope leading down toward the outer ring of the city. "We'll go in through the service tunnels beneath that ridge. They connect to old utility access lines that were mapped in the intelligence brief."

She turned fully to face them, her tone now more like a teacher than a commander.

"I need both of you sharp. This isn't just about recon. If the ambassador is alive, we're getting them out. If not, we need to learn what happened. No engagements unless absolutely necessary. We stay together."

Valery gave them a final glance, a faint but encouraging smile forming at the corners of her lips.

"You both ready?" she asked, already stepping toward the descent. "Because once we're in, there's no going back until we get what we came for."

Azurine Varek Everest Vale ​

 

[Everest Vale]

Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Tag: Valery Noble Azurine Varek

Eve stood beside Azzie, half-hidden beneath the emerald canopy that arched above them. Sunlight speared through gaps in the towering trees, painting shifting patterns across her white robes and the mossy forest floor. The air was rich with the scent of leaves and distant rain, but the distant plume of smoke over the Iskalloni city marred the jungle’s peace, dark and foreboding against the pale sky.

As Valery spoke, Eve kept her eye fixed on the distant skyline, but inwardly, her thoughts strayed to Selvaris. She had loved its jungles from the first moment she set foot among its winding rivers and towering trees. But now the planet was woven even deeper into her spirit. It was where she and Tigris had shared their first true closeness, where the Force had bound them permanently together in a moment of profound connection. The thought burned quietly in her chest, filling her with warmth and a sharper edge of protectiveness. Selvaris was more than a posting or a mission. It was part of her heart, and she would not let it fall.

When their master turned to face them, Eve finally tore her gaze from the smoke and nodded, her single silver eye hard with purpose.

"Ready," she said, her voice steady and low. "Let's save Selvaris."

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Objective #2 - Strike Team Sunrider

Tag: Rikuan
Mentions: Ran Serys

Xuko checked, for what felt like the umpteenth time in the hours leading up to the mission, that his lightsaber was fully charged and that his small first-aid kit was neatly organized and easily accessible. The Zabrak had been on a few missions before- some intentional, some not- but even so he'd been surprised to have been tapped to participate in this one given that he'd only recently joined the Order and started his Jedi training.

He'd followed a familiar face - Ran Serys - through a garbage chute full of things that Xuko didn't want to inquire too closely about, but now the small team had made it into the ship proper. Xuko glanced to his left where the ever-irrepressible Rikuan stood; although "stood" was a loose term when it came to the Makurian, who seemed to constantly be in motion. The two of them had been tasked with creating a diversion.

Or, more accurately, Rikuan had been tasked with creating a diversion. Xuko was there to ensure that the Makurian had some backup if needed. It was as opposite of a pairing as any Xuko had been a part of.

The Zabrak had received help before the team had entered the ship in setting up his commlink; with a private channel between him and Rikuan, as well as one that would contact every member of Strike Team Sunrider; useful, since they would be splitting up. Xuko mentally reviewed the map of the ship he'd memorized, knowing that it represented the stock version of this particular capital ship. Any changes, modifications, or "improvements" by the Iskalloni could prove to be a nasty surprise, but it was the best intel they had.

"The aft power generators are this way" Xuko said to Rikuan, indicating the direction they would go. From the looks of things, the two of them would be splitting off from the rest of the group. Mentally, Xuko sighed. He had a feeling that this wouldn't be a stealth mission for long...

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Protection
Selvaris System
Strike Team Sunrider

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

Aboard the Iskalloni Capital Ship
Edge of the Selvaris System – Strike Team Sunrider

The stench hit first.

Chemical rot, scorched plastic, and rusted metal hung in the air like a threat—one Connel had smelled before. It reminded him of Nar Shaddaa spires half-devoured by Black Sun tech harvesters. Places that hadn’t just been forgotten—they’d been consumed.

Still crouched in the reeking runoff basin of the chute, Connel didn't speak. He didn’t need to. A silent hand signal from Ran Serys had already sent them moving, and Omega Squad followed without hesitation.

Raphael was first out of the chute, massive form making the duct groan as he rolled into position. Sariel was a shadow behind him, rifle at the ready, sweeping the dark corners of the cargo hold. Gabriel was already working a scan with minimal tech interference, datapad tucked against his vambrace. Azrael didn’t even wait—he was setting charge points and mapping fast egress routes in his head.

Jeremiel, ever the watchful protector, brought up the rear with eyes on the team’s six and Connel’s hand gripped tight over his saber hilt, resisting the urge to ignite it just yet.

Then came the hum.

It wasn’t mechanical.

It was alive.

The Iskalloni guard’s eyes glowed dim red in the shadows. His breathing was artificial, wet and uneven like a bellows full of meat. He turned—too fast—and his cybernetic spinal collar clicked to life.

Connel didn’t hesitate.

He surged forward, one fluid motion. His violet-bladed shortsaber burst to life in a hiss and plunged into the back of the slaver’s head, up and through the cranial core, silencing the scream before it could even register as thought.

The body dropped without drama.

Behind him, Omega Squad held formation, unfazed.

Connel checked the nearby systems. The room was primitive, even for biocybernetics. Cage hooks were rigged to a feeding algorithm and nerve-interrupt triggers. They're not just imprisoning bodies, he murmured. They’re reprogramming identities.

That's an optimistic word for this, Gabriel replied over comms, tone acidic.

Connel looked up as Ran stepped past the carnage, issuing her orders. Divide and conquer. Classic. Efficient.

Risky.

He didn't speak up until her last gesture. When she pointed, including him.

Copy that, Connel said, voice filtered through the low-mod distortion of his Shadow mask. Jeremiel, Sariel—stay flexible. You’re our ghost net if this place comes alive.

Sariel nodded once, already stepping into a flanking corridor.
Connel moved beside Ran. The soft tap of boots against metal, the rhythm of soldiers and Jedi aligned. He didn’t glance at her, but there was a calm certainty to her motion that he respected. She was leading with the blade and the brain.

Let’s make this ship regret ever leaving its hangar, Connel said as his fingers tapped his commlink. [Private channel: Sunrider Black. All units—shadow ops protocol. Split movement. Eyes forward. No heroics.]

BRAD’s chirp came in low from his gauntlet. BEEOooop [You forgot ‘no dismembering unless it’s poetic.’]

Connel allowed the faintest smirk beneath the mask. [That rule was made for you, BRAD.]

They vanished deeper into the guts of the ship.

Strike Team Sunrider had arrived. The Iskalloni just didn’t know they were already bleeding.

Ran Serys • TAGS​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

At the Heart of it all.
Iskalloni Capital Iskadrell
Strike Team Vos

ISKADRELL – SURFACE DOCKING PLATFORM – DAY, IF YOU CAN CALL IT THAT

The skies above Iskadrell roiled with static-choked cloud banks, dimming the sun’s light to a sickly violet hue. Jagged metal spires rise like the broken teeth of a predator around the primary landing zone. Sparks danced from exposed power lines. The wind smelled like burned circuitry and oil.

Through the haze, the unmistakable hiss-crunch of repulsorlifts signalled the descent of a lone vessel — an older, scarred transport, reinforced with bespoke Jedi armor plating. The landing struts slam into the corroded durasteel platform like a warning.

The ramp lowered.

And out stepped Caltin Vanagor.

No fanfare. No words. Just the sound of his boots impacting the metal.

The Jedi Guardian towered beneath the stormlight, his silhouette framed by his blackened robe and reinforced armor. His long-hilt lightsaber—still dormant—rested against his back. His eyes scanned the horizon beneath a furrowed brow. He’s not just here on a mission.

He’s here because someone crossed the line.

The Iskalloni welcome party appeared.

They don’t march—they skittered, half-cybernetic enforcers crawling from the shadowed crevices of the platform and surrounding spires. Arms replaced with integrated vibroblades, ocular implants flickering, their voices ground through modulated filters.

In a voice crackling through static, the lead Iskalloni guard spoke. “Jedi. State your business or be processed for reclamation.”

Caltin didn’t flinch. Didn’t reach for his weapon. He simply tilted his head and locked eyes with the lead Iskalloni.

And in a thunderous tone of someone who had no patience… Your people invited a Jedi ambassador here under the pretense of diplomacy. Now no one can reach them. So here I am. Asking once. Where are they?

The guards raised weapons—too fast. Too aggressive.

Caltin exhaled like a tired storm. A storm that gave a populace plenty of time to prepare but they didn’t… so now they find the result of their inaction.

With a blur of motion, he raised his left forearm, the balled fist extended outward into an open palm. The first bolt ricochets off the surface of his hand as he planted his stance, immovable.
He didn’t ignite his saber yet. Not yet.

… and in a tone as cold as the winds of Hoth… That was your mistake. In the next second, the first three guards were flung backwards—not with lethal Force, but punishing. Bones rattled. Circuits sparked.

Another guard lunged with a blade—Caltin sidestepped, grabbed the wrist, and slammed the attacker into the deck. He turned to face the rest without drawing a weapon.

He’s not here to kill.

He’s here to send a message.

Grim and measured, his tone matched his glare.
[COLOR=ROYALBLUETake me to whoever thinks they're in charge. Or the next one of you leaves in pieces.[/COLOR]

TAGS • ARE • OPEN
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​