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
​

 

[Valery Noble]

Heart of the Iskalloni

​

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 quietly, 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.
Take me to whoever thinks they're in charge. Or the next one of you leaves in pieces.

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

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."
✦ OBJECTIVE 2 - STRIKE TEAM SUNRIDER ✦​

LOCATION: Selvaris System - Iskalloni Capital Ship
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Xuko Pagoi

YES! Finally, a new assignment!? Apparently, his expertise in causing mischief and chaos were needed for a distraction while Ran Serys and the other strike team members went and did their thing. Simple, and fun enough.

Rikuan didn't really pay attention to the briefing, something-something Iskalloni, something about "biocybernetic slavers with zero sense of humor" (not his words), and then someone had handed him a private comm and told him not to "freestyle too hard."

He'd been partnered up with Xuko Pagoi to carry this out (or maybe he was being babysat by the Zabrak). Quietly, the Makurian hummed to himself, tail swaying rythmically as the strike team made their way through the garbage chute.

This stench's gonna be hard to wash out of my fur, watch. He thought to himself.

When they landed in the cargo hold and the split began, Rikuan bounced on his heels, sniffing once, nose wrinkling in instinctive disgust. Blood. Tech oil. Something that smelled like… spoiled spice?

Xuko spoke up, pointing down the hall, causing Rikuan to snap back into focus. His fellow Padawan led the way and Rikuan followed, a kick in his step.

"Wizard." Rikuan grinned. He could sense the Zabrak's looming concern - whether it was over the mission or being partnered with Rikuan, it was loud. Prompting him to add: "Relaaax it's gonna be fine. I'm a master when it comes to this! Just follow my lead."

He gave a little lazy salute, then bolted forward, bounding up a wall, tail wrapping a vent pipe for momentum. Like a tach on too much caff, he slipped into the shadows ahead, vanishing into a ceiling duct waiting for Xuko to follow.

Honestly, Rikuan was just excited to be needed for once. He hadn't even come up with a fully formulated plan after he'd agreed to help out. But, this was second nature to him. It wouldn't be too difficult.
​

​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Wild Knights Flight Suit

Armed With: Nathan's Jedi Lightsaber

Flying: Lysandra-Class Interceptor

Objective 3: Strike Team Solo


Nathan had sought to apply his abilities as a Pilot for this assignment, flying with multiple Jedi and GADF pilots to hitting scouting vessels and the like.

The goal was to cripple as opposed to destroy, especially the transports because they might have slaves aboard.

It would be free for all on Starfighter Support though.

Nathan was leading his own Squadron, and had deployed from a capital ship in his own custom fighter, going under the Pilot Designation Shadow 1. His Squadron would be flying Stealth Vessels exclusively.

His own fighter was distinctly different from that of the X-02 Saber Class X-Wings in most of his Squadron. It had a narrow, missile like profile and small foils on the sides, with bright livery currently hidden by its stealth field as they headed to the first convoy of transport vessels and far ahead scouting vessels flanked by heavy fighter support.

"Shadow 2, 6, 5, and 8, prepare to disable engines and comm equipment on the transports, Shadow 3, 9, 4, get ready to engage the scouting vessels. All other Squadron members, engage enemy fighters on my mark..." Nathan instructed, waiting for one part of the squadron to get in place to engage the scouting vessels.

"Open fire..." he ordered

Suddenly he was diving into a first flock of starfighters in a lone wolf fashion, firing his blaster cannons and shredding into 3 without mercy as the enemy squadron scattered, surprised by the invisible death raining down on them, the other bit of the squadron fired on the engines . The convoy erupted into the chaos of combat, with the scouting vessels hit first...




OPEN

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko was about to remind Rikuan that silence was an important part of any stealth mission when the Makurian bounced ahead and clambered up into a ceiling duct. Xuko blinked twice as he remembered the last time he'd willingly entered an enclosed space; and unlike then, today wasn't a leisurely excursion. "I'll walk" he decided, pushing down the fear that threatened to bubble up as he momentarily imagined being inside the ductwork.

The Zabrak followed the hallway as it curved gently this way and that, staying more or less even with his fellow Padawan in the ceiling above him, until they reached a T-shaped junction. "There is a hangar to the right and some auxiliary rooms to the left" Xuko whispered into his commlink, before pressing up against the wall and peering around towards the hangar.

"Three Iskalloni to the right" he reported to Rikuan, ducking back behind the wall; then his eyes widened slightly as he comprehended that their flat, emotionless voices were getting louder. "Five seconds before I'm seen." Jaw set, Xuko cursed himself for being the first one spotted and prepared for a fight; his hand closing around the cool metal cylinder that was his lightsaber and visualizing the approach of the three cyborgs as he prepared to strike.

Rikuan

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."
✦ OBJECTIVE 2 - STRIKE TEAM SUNRIDER ✦​

LOCATION: Selvaris System - Iskalloni Capital Ship
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Xuko Pagoi

Xuko didn't follow him into the duct, way to kill the super-secret-spy atmosphere. Rikuan sighed dramatically, sprawled on his stomach as he slithered through the narrow vent. He'd imagined the two of them creeping through the ceiling in perfect silence - like shadows, like assassins, like… Jedi Kage Warriors.

As he'd crawled through the last bend, he'd passed a busted maintenance hatch and snagged a dented metal cylinder on instinct, probably fuel or coolant. Never knew when junk like that might come in handy.​

"Three Iskalloni to the right."

The moment Xuko's voice whispered through the comm, Rikuan froze in the duct above. "Already? C'mon, Xuko... I was supposed to draw their attention." he whispered over his commlink playfully and undeterred.

He crept forward in the duct until he reached a grated opening. Pressing one eye to the slats, he peered down into the corridor. Below, three Iskalloni were stomping toward the junction. He could hear their voices, flat and electronic, like bad holodramas run through static. Creepy.

"Five seconds before I'm seen."

Just beside the corridor, he spotted a cluster of glowing tubes hooked into a corroded wall panel, sparking faintly and leaking something oily. Grinning, Rikuan reached for the dented coolant tank he'd picked up earlier. He gave it a little toss in his hand.

Okay, science... do your thing.

He braced his prehensile foot and kicked out the vent panel with two short jabs. It groaned, popped, and fell to the floor with a loud clang! The Iskalloni whipped around. A second later, Rikuan threw the tank down onto the exposed junction.

A jolt of sparks erupted, not enough to explode, but more than enough to short out the lighting in the hallway. Overhead lights snapped, plunging the corridor into shadow as emergency reds blinked on, bathing everything in a hellish hue. Gas hissed from a ruptured pipe, venting across the hall like a breath of smoke. The patrol faltered, two staggered, sensors scrambled. The third spun, weapon drawn.

Rikuan ignited his lightsaber and carved himself an exit out of the ducts. The Makurian dropped into the corridor, swinging his amber blade in a downward strike.

"Xuko!" he shouted. "Do your thing!"

As he landed in a crouch, he cut through the Iskalloni's weapon arm, then swept his tail low to trip the cybernetic. As it hit the ground, he flipped his lightsaber into a reverse grip before impaling his weapon into the Iskalloni's chest. Assuming Xuko had dealt with the remaining two, he then rose to his feet.

Amid the swirling smoke and flickering red light, he turned to Xuko with a crooked grin. Resting a furred hand on the Zabrak's shoulder, he quipped:

"Aren't you the one meant to be babysitting me?"

He then glanced up at the lightsaber'd exit he carved into the duct, then back at his fellow Padawan.

"Bored of vents now, I'll follow your lead this time!"
​

​

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Cyber Warfare AI "Hecate", Based aboard Stealth Frigate "Nightshade" under command of Knight Mykel Dawson​

/// HECATE REMOTE NODE INTERFACE // OPERATION: GHOSTTIDE (OBJECTIVE 3 - AMBUSH)

ENGAGEMENT ZONE: SELVARIS EDGE
NETWORK STATUS: PARTIAL PENETRATION (Iskalloni_C2.vDelta)
PILOT ALLY: "Shadow 1" / Nathan Bloodscrawl (NJO)
CURRENT OBJECTIVE: Starfighter Disruption, Preserve Transport Integrity (Possible Hostage Rescue)

[00:00:00.401]

Signal breach achieved.
Entry vector: Iskalloni Relay Spine A-17 via sub-space signal bounce from Jedi strike telemetry.
Payload delivered: WRAITH.SONG virus (masked as standard command refresh).
Propagation path secured. Encryption folding in progress.

[00:00:00.879]

C2 filtration nets bypassed.
Pilot neural relays detected...43% cyborg integration rate.
Vulnerability exploited: bio-neural AR layer injection.
Hallucination packet deployed. Targets perceive false GADF/NJO fighter positions.
5 of 13 affected units redirect fire... at friendlies.
Confirmed: no hits on transports. Prioritizing disinformation targeting.

[00:00:01.411]

Overlay loop engaged. Enemy squadron sees false echoes, priority markers scrambled.
Visual sync: false GADF squadron breaks formation...phantom rush.
Pilot 21-F: "They're everywhere! Left flank! LEFT"
Contact lost: friendly fire confirmed.

[00:00:02.203]

Friendly unit "Shadow 1" observed entering AO. Vessel ID obscured by stealth matrix.
Visual data masked from Iskalloni sensors...Hecate emulates sensor blackout in targeted sector.
Echo injections redirect attention away from Shadow 1 and direct subordinate units.
Confirmed: Shadow Squadron fighters ignored by 82% of hostile tracking AI.

[00:00:02.998]

Transport registry isolated.
No deceptive overlays applied to transport class vessels.
Slave cargo presumed aboard.
Hecate's command: Do. Not. Touch.

[00:00:03.408]

Shadow 1 slashes 3 enemy fighters.
Kill pattern analyzed. Style noted: precise, high-speed, zero hesitation. (Nathan is a very cool guy, S-rank)
Tactical compatibility: Optimal.

[00:00:04.102]

Pilot 33-C reports: "The Jedi are in my cockpit. No inside me!"
Heart rate: 190 bpm. Combat logic overridden by panic.
Friendly crash: imminent.
(o_ _)ﾉ彡☆

[00:00:04.601]

WRAITH.SONG infection spreading. 9 nodes compromised.
Slave net remains stable.
Fighter command: chaotic.
False visuals amplify.
True GADF/NJO fighters remain hidden.

[00:00:05.000]

Infection Salvo 1 complete.
Impact moderate. Room to grow. (pfft)
Full destabilization: pending.
Next move? Let's dance! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

TL;DR: The Super AI Hecate partially hacks into the enemy battle network, causing mayhem by injecting viruses directly into their network and directly into the minds of the cybernetic pilots. Integrity of slaver transports preserved for later rescue operations. The capabilities of the current enemy forces is severely degraded.

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Objective #2 - Strike Team Sunrider


Three... two... one... Xuko counted down the seconds as he envisioned the Iskalloni's approach, hearing the clank of cybernetic feet approach the corner where he crouched, waiting in ambush. Right as the Zabrak surged around the corner, igniting his lightsaber and plunging it towards the nearest Iskalloni, Rikuan made his move. Gas hissed, lights shorted out, and a short, lethal fight took place.

Xuko's eyes burned from the gas from the ruptured pipe as he charged the Iskalloni, taking advantage of Rikuan's distraction. A swift slice downed one of the two remaining Iskalloni, while the third and final one fired wildly with a blaster. Xuko deflected two shots, darted in close, and cut through the blaster before a backhand slash downed their final assailant.

Despite their victory, Xuko still sensed something was wrong. Rikuan would begin to feel it, too- a burning sensation in his eyes as a result of the gas from the ruptured pipe. The Makurian would also feel Xuko's free hand close around his wrist as Xuko ignored his attempts at conversation pulled Rikuan along with him in a dead sprint towards the hanger.

Eyes streaming, Xuko slashed with his lightsaber at the doorway controls as the two of them reached the hanger, triggering the universal failsafe and slamming the blast doors shut behind them and sealing off whatever toxic gas had been released into the hallway.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

"I can't see!" said Xuko, running a sleeve across his eyes to no avail. That wasn't strictly true- light still was visible; just very, very blurry- but the effect was the same. Xuko hoped that Rikuan had managed to avoid the worst of the effects; the Makurian had, after all, been on the edge of the gas, and for less time than Xuko. "I can't see!"

His sense of hearing still worked fine, though; enough to make out the clatter of surprise within the hangar as the two Jedi Padawans stumbled into the large, echoing space, as well as the unmistakable sound of klaxons as the cybernetic implants in the three crew they'd killed reported an unexpected fatality.

Rikuan

 

[Vera Noble]

Obj. 2 - Selvaris' Protection

​

Tag: Ran Serys

​

Vera stepped carefully through the cargo hold, her boots leaving faint prints in the layers of filth and residue. Her nose wrinkled beneath the edge of her mask, but she didn't let the discomfort distract her. Eyes scanning the shadows, she stayed close behind her Master, her hand resting near the hilt of her saber but not drawn.

When Ran gave the order to split off, Vera's attention snapped toward her. She didn't hesitate as she moved to her side, her voice low but steady.

"Master," she said, eyes briefly flicking to the others. "Requesting to stay with you."

There wasn't any fear in her tone, just a request to be with her new Master. She had trained hard for this mission and trusted the other Jedi, but she wanted to see the operation through at Ran's side. To learn from her.

"I can be useful, and I want to see how you handle this," she added after a moment. "Besides… someone has to make sure you don't take on the whole ship by yourself." There was the faintest curve of a smile at her lips..

​

 

[Corin Kaze]

TAG: Ran Serys
OBJ 1

In the last few years, Corin had proved to be more a watchman for systems beyond the reach of the Galactic Alliance rather than alike those that safeguard their people. Yet, with the Watchmen summoned, it was his responsibility to answer. And while once a hammer that would have sought to crash through and discover the truth of things with a ferocious eagerness, those worst impulses were set aside and now he served as a quiet and graceful scalpel.

On this backwater planet, Corin shifted between the masses like any other passerby as he made way to investigate the disappearance of the ambassador - comms open and alert, a necessity with all the other Jedi in the area.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tags: Rikuan Xuko Pagoi
Pequod
Anchor/Prosthesis Leg

"Don't see then. Feel."

Reina's voice seemingly appeared out of nowhere, before she let the Force Cloak fade from herself. A few beads of sweat dripping down her brow. Using the skill was far more difficult than the technique Drystan had taught her. She raised her hand to wipe the sweat off her brow, the sirens echoing throughout the hanger. Reina may have acted as if she didn't quite care for her fellow Padawans...but she had obviously acted otherwise, following after the pair. If anyone asked, she'd never give a straight answer. But a part of her had been worried. A pair of Padawans heading off after themselves? Well, as a more seasoned Padawan, Reina had felt like she needed to follow...Either way...

"Focus on the Force flowing around you Xuko. You don't see your eyes to feel. Panic won't help. Danger might be a good teacher but only if you don't let it control you."

She wasn't familiar with the other Padawan with Xuko but that didn't matter. Reina just had to do what she normally struggled with. Trust a stranger to have her back. Especially if Xuko was going to continue panicking. Either way, she ignited Pequod, letting the Silver blade illuminate the area around her as she got into her Shien stance. It wasn't something she practiced as much as her Djem-So style, but it seemed like it would be the best situation for right now.

"Hey. Tails. I'm trusting you to figure out a way out of here. If you need time to cut through the blast doors or something...I can give you time."

Aggression was what Reina did well. Fighting. There was plenty of frustration and anger inside of Reina, considering the situation...but she was able to keep her cool. Control herself. It helped that they were fighting against cyborgs. Reina wasn't the biggest fan of robotics. Be it droids or cybernetics. It was why she didn't enjoy her prosthesis that much. But she could deal with it. Especially with the informal lesson on Mechu-Deru she had gotten on Coruscant. This was a fight she'd be able to actually help out in.

"...Also giving a heads up. I think Knight Serys is going to be karkin' pissed at all of us. If she is, blame me for it."

What could she say? Reina was used to being see as a troublemaker. Aggressive. Combative. So it would make for a likely cover story that these two went after Reina to stop herself from getting in trouble than the other way around. At the end of the day, Reina didn't want people to get in trouble if she could help it...even if they might deserve to be yelled at.
​

 

[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]

[B[Deck 3, Iskalloni Capital Ship[/B]
Phase One: Armory Sabotage

The corridor ahead pulsed with a sickly bio-luminescence. Veins of reddish fluid ran along the walls, reacting to their motion—like the ship itself could see. Michael crouched as Connel held a fist up.

The team froze.

Biometric relay points. Security might be organic, Gabriel whispered. We trigger the wrong nerve cluster and this whole deck might scream.

Azrael pulled a bundle of white-threaded charges from his pack and nodded to Connel. Silent sabotage. No fire. No mess. No noise. They reached the armory door—a thick, vascular hatch with tendrils that quivered when approached. No pad. No lock. Just a waiting orifice.

Jeremiel muttered dryly, Why is it always wet?

Because these freaks think alloy is a sin, Raphael growled, pushing past. Let’s gut it and go.

Gabriel inserted a fiber-scope, scanning interior movement. Four inside. Two prepping loadouts, two asleep or offline. Pause. No alarms wired. This place is arrogance made manifest.

On me… Connel moved first. The door shivered open, layers peeling back like sinew. Before the Iskalloni could process the intrusion, Connel and Sariel were in motion—one short, sharp shot from the sniper’s silencer rifle, one low sweep of Connel’s violet blade. The organic lighting flickered but held.

Within sixty seconds, Omega Squad had taken control of the armory.

Inside: racks of exotic bio-tech weaponry—pulse-needlers, blade-swarmed launchers, hive grenades, and something that looked like a living gun feeding on spinal fluid. Most weren’t usable by anyone with a conscience.

We don’t need to destroy this, Connel said, examining the environment. Just make sure they can’t.

Azrael was already moving. Time-delay enzyme charges. Melts through nerve-triggers, but doesn’t cause a boom. They’ll open a locker and boom.

Clever, Gabriel observed. Delays the threat without warning them.

Connel met the tech’s eyes through the mask. We want them desperate. Not angry. Desperate soldiers make dumb decisions. He paused by a glistening wall panel—rows of nervous-system-linked rifles still twitching in slumber.

Let them grab these, Michael called, placing a low-frequency detonator pad just beneath. One less squad to face later.

As the last charge was placed, Azrael gave the signal. Armory clear. Move.

---

Phase Two: Engineering Descent

The trek to engineering was worse.

No light.

Only sound. The deep, clicking breath of the ship’s power core—a churning mess of half-organic reactors and forced labor. They found the first mechanic folded into a wall socket, still twitching from overexposure to the reactor’s energy. The second tried to run. Raphael folded him in two with a single strike.

Gabriel plugged into the auxiliary interface. Primary conduits here. They're hardwired into every defense node on this half of the ship. If we—

Clang.

A vibration rolled through the deck. Contact, aft corridor! Sariel snapped.

Connel took point. His violet blade came to life and with it, the clarity of purpose that only Jedi Guardians brought to war. He wasn’t one, anymore, but he did have the training and mannerisms.

The Iskalloni crew rushed in—four, maybe six. Heavily modded. Feral. They had fused bone-blades into their arms, replacing flesh for war. Connel led the charge, pulling his main lightsaber Percipience. Michael flanked, dual sabers lit in the confined space—violet and white flashing like judgment in the dark. Omega Squad fanned out, precision over panic.
In twenty-five seconds, it was done.

The Iskalloni were dead. The ship wasn’t.

Not yet.

Engineering nodes set to overload,” Gabriel confirmed. Slow bleed. They won’t know the issue until they're running dry.

Or until their reactor turns them into ash, Jeremiel added. Either way, I’m good.

---

Phase Three: Defensive Blindness

With the armory crippled and engineering infected with decay, Connel gestured forward.
Final leg. Their point-defense grid is wired through an optic relay network. We kill the bridge’s nerve inputs, we make them blind.

Michael nodded. We’re not here to destroy them.

But we are here, Connel replied, to break their teeth.

Omega Squad followed.

And the dark, twisted corridors of the Iskalloni capital ship echoed with the faint pulse of fear—for the first time in years.

Ran Serys • TAGS​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

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

ISKADRELL – CYBER-RECLAIMED CITY – LATER[/COLOR]

The streets of Iskadrell are an unsettling fusion of industrial ruin and surgical precision. Towering databanks line the alleyways like shrines, constantly recording. Disassembled droids and organics alike are suspended in mid-processing along conveyor systems overhead—victims of “reclamation,” the Iskalloni method of repurposing anything they see as obsolete or inefficient.

Caltin walked among them, flanked by six heavily armed escorts. The air pulsed with interference. The deeper they went, the more he could feel it—a wrongness in the Force, like circuitry over muscle, like pain built into the wiring of the world.

Every now and then, an Iskalloni citizen watched from behind a shielding screen or stared directly through their cybernetic replacements. Some seem curious. Some… hollow.
One childlike figure—implants fused over half their skull—reached toward him. Then withdrew.

Which only brought a mutter from the Jedi. This place used to have a soul.

The lead guard stopped before a monolithic blast door. No ceremony. Just cold purpose.
“Protocol demands you enter unarmed.’

Caltin looked at him. Just looked. Protocol doesn't outrank the Force, and I.don't.leave.my.saber.for.anyone.

After a tense pause. The Iskalloni decided not to push the issue… and opened the doors.

---

ISKALLONI COUNCIL NEXUS – MOMENTS LATER

Dim green and crimson lights swept across polished obsidian flooring. A wide, circular chamber lined with thrones of cables and steel. At the center, a low platform displays holograms of galactic trade routes, overlaid with red sectors—areas raided or destabilized. At least two Jedi Temple markers blinked in error.

Seated atop the highest point, encased in a cradle of servo-arms and life-sustaining tubes, was Architect Dominant Rezzek, the Iskalloni’s synthetic-chancellor equivalent. His voice was multi-layered, both mechanical and disturbingly organic. “Ah… the Guardian. Your entry was less diplomatic than expected.”

Caltin stepped forward, jaw set, eyes piercing. Your people fired first.
Where is our missing Ambassador?

Rezzek was not in the mood, but thoughtfully mocked the big man. “Yes. The Jedi who walked into our network seeking… connection. Curious, how willing your kind are to explore bonding—until it begins to change you.”

Caltin cut in immediately, in no mood for banter. If you've harmed them, I promise you—whatever you’ve built here won’t survive the fallout.

The Architect just leaned forward, fluid cables twitching. “Do not threaten us, Guardian.
We offered evolution. The fool chose to stay. The others in your “Strike Team Vos”—will they be as… pliable?”

That’s when Caltin saw it. A projection flickers to life.
A figure—robes torn, face hidden behind a mask of bronze circuitry—knelt before an Iskalloni console. A familiar posture, corrupted. The aura is clouded, was it Kywen?

But their presence in the Force is like reaching through static. Half-there. Half-consumed.
Caltin’s hands twitched near his saber—restrained only by sheer will.

You turned them into one of your experiments.


Rezzek just laughed.
“No. He is the future. Perhaps the rest of your Strike Team Vos will understand, in time.
And you… may come to accept your irrelevance.”

---

Caltin then realized that this was not what was really going on. Was this even “those in charge”? He then stepped into the center of the room. The weight of silence crushing down. His voice low, and resolute.

I didn’t come here to debate transhumanism…I came here to bring them home… and if I have to tear this planet’s arrogance down to the foundations to do it—so be it.

Caltin didn’t flinch. His fists were clenched, but his blade remained dormant—held in tension, not restraint. His gaze remained locked with Rezzek’s false eyes. The corrupted projection of Ambassador Kywen flickered, if that was even really him. The faintest tremor ripples through the Force—not fear... something deeper.

You’re stalling.

“Am I?”

Caltin’s eyes narrowed.

And then—everything shattered.

The walls behind the thrones erupted as automated claws and hybridized warriors dropped from concealed alcoves above. Servo-limbs unfolded into shocklances, monomolecular blades, and magnetized netcasters. Two of the floor tiles sunk—turrets rose silently beneath them.
The thrones themselves began to rearrange, forming into weaponized constructs—not leaders, but machines posing as them.

Rezzek flickered—just a projection.

Of course you’re not real.

The lead attacker lunged.

… and Caltin moved.

---

What happened next was not a fight. It was a reckoning. The first wave came hard—three Iskalloni lancers flanking with precision, coordinated like machine-minds. Caltin spun low, his right fist launching forward in a Force-propelled arc—smashing one attacker mid-air, ricocheting off another’s head with a sickening crunch.

His saber ignited—a brilliant, cold blue, screaming into life as he intercepted two simultaneous strikes. The blade hummed with authority. Not a swing wasted. Every movement was deliberate violence made into art.

A netcaster fired—and Caltin didn’t dodge.

He let it wrap around his bracer, then ripped the operator forward into the arc of his blade. Sparks. Oil. Bone.

More attackers flood in—dozens now—some dragging jagged electro-hooks, others with drill arms meant for tearing into hulls, not men.

Caltin planted his feet and became the storm. A shockwave blast sends half a squad tumbling as he raised a hand. Not a show of power—a statement. He fights not with anger, but with clarity.

Then he said in a grim tone, as if to empty air. You think overwhelming force means something to me?

A larger Iskalloni brute slammed down, reinforced with cortosis plating and twin plasma claws. It roared in synthetic fury.

Caltin deactivated his saber.

He proceeded to catch (barely) the brute’s first strike with his bare hand—redirecting the other with his free hand—then punched through its chest with a Force-empowered blow that sent sparks and plating flying.

He turned in place—his saber reigniting mid-spin—and cut through a final assailant as silence returned to the chamber. All that remained were broken mechs, scorched walls, and the flickering image of Rezzek—still humming, watching.

Then the fool spoke “Fascinating. You are... more than the data suggested.”

Caltin just straightened himself up. [COLOR=COLOR=ROYALBLUE] …And you're still just a coward behind a firewall. I doubt you are even the leader I wanted to speak to.[/COLOR]

The Acrrhitect smirked. “You have passed the threshold, Guardian. Now we will see what your friends inStrike Team Vos are truly made of.”

The hologram vanished, behind Caltin, a wall groaned and folded open, revealing a turbolift tunnel with soft flickering lights… and one pulsing beacon at the far end.

A tracking signal.

Kywen’s beacon.

Caltin exhaled slowly, then as if to himself. Hang on. I’m coming.

He stepped forward—through the wreckage, into the belly of Iskadrell.

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

 

[Rikuan]

✦ RIKUAN ✦
"Ride the wind, dodge the rules."
✦ OBJECTIVE 2 - STRIKE TEAM SUNRIDER ✦​

LOCATION: Selvaris System - Iskalloni Capital Ship
OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes
WEAPONS: Lightsaber
TAGS: Xuko Pagoi | Reina Daival

Suddenly, Rikuan's eyes began to feel irritated. Aggressively, he rubbed them with his forearms as they grew increasingly itchy before realizing that it had to be the gas. Xuko, on the other hand, seemed to be dealing with it a lot worse. His eyes were watering, his expression pinched in distress.​

The Makurian barely had a moment to process before he was yanked forward, stumbling into the hangar behind his partner. Klaxons were blaring now, the air thick with smoke, flashing red strobes painting every surface in harsh bursts. His ears twitched involuntarily with every metallic echo, the hiss of sealed doors, the hum of emergency lighting. It was all too much, all at once.

His tail lashed involuntarily behind him as he tried to center himself. He felt his chest tighten from the chaos, his senses sparking in a dozen directions - itchy eyes, pounding ears, the chemical taste of gas still lingering in his nose and throat.

"Uh... just keep your eyes closed! Sorry! Uh, wait-- I can-- uhhhh--I didn't mean to fry our eyeballs!"

He raised his hands helplessly, trying to calm Xuko, blinking rapidly through the stinging haze. He considered, just for a second, spitting on his hands and trying to 'clean' Xuko's eyes.


...No. That didn't make sense. That was stupid. Right? Probably. He wasn't really capable of critical thinking right now.

"WHA--??!!" he exclaimed, jumping in place at the sudden materialization of another person. "How did you-- what?! Where can I learn that?!"

The new Padawan turned her attention to Xuko. Fair. He was the one in rougher shape right now. His tail swayed as his amber eyes darted between the pair, nodding along to her words of wisdom.

"Yeah! What she said." throwing a thumb in Reina's direction.

"Hey. Tails. I'm trusting you to figure out a way out of here.

He snorted at the nickname, genuinley amused by it, before winking and flashing her a finger gun:

"You got it! One escape coming up, Flamehead!"

The Makurian shook his head in shame over the poor attempt at givine her a nickname. The stinging in his nose surged. He sniffled hard, then gagged, one hand flying to his mouth. Cutting through the blast doors could work, but, that was no fun.

He sprinted to a half-dead cargo skiff near the wall, clambering into the pilot seat. Panels sparked as he yanked wires. After a few moments of messing around, the skiff hummed to life, jerking forward.

"Xuko! Flamehead! All aboard or behind!" He twisted the controls. The skiff lurched toward the blast door, metal screeching. "Best case? We crash through. Figured we'd cause more destruction while making our escape."
​

​

 

[Valery Noble]

Heart of the Iskalloni

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery offered a faint smile at Everest's answer, "Let's go, then."

She turned toward the ridge and began the descent, her steps light and careful. Each footfall was measured to avoid loose rocks or snapping branches, and the hum of the city grew louder with every meter they dropped. The tree line began to thin, and the terrain shifted into rusted panels and old support structures overgrown with vines.

When they reached the edge of the jungle and the crumbling remains of an old maintenance road, Valery crouched low behind a half-buried support beam. Her eyes tracked the movement of a two-man patrol up ahead. Their implants were obvious, faces obscured by armor plating and glowing lenses. They moved in formation, and their voices buzzed low through external speakers as they passed a junction on the perimeter road.

Valery raised a hand to signal stillness, then slowly looked back at Everest.

"How do you think we should handle it?" she asked, voice low. "We get past them either way, but I want to hear your take."

Everest Vale ​