The Sacking of Coruscant

[Narasa Kelori]

Location: Skies over Coruscant
Objective: D
Allies: GA
Enemies: Er, everyone shooting at her, she figures.

((Coren, you said PCs take control if we wanted into Tiburon, so I hope this is all right. I can always edit if it isn't. ))

This was certainly a new experience for Narasa; how she had ended up on the front lines of a war was less complicated than she would have liked and insufficient enough in seriousness for her father not to flay her with his tongue for her stupidity, should she make it home. And if she told them. Oh stars, of course she would end up telling them.

The squad she'd wound up assigned to-- Tiburons-- was under the command of one of the higher-ups in the Galactic Alliance chain. He wasn't familiar to her, and, in a way, Narasa would've preferred to be flying with [member="Malia Afredane"] or [member="Kairon Rees"] , but she was used to working with strangers. Following military orders came a bit harder to her, but she knew all about the 'duck your head and obey' mentality and knew she would comfortably obey the strategies passed down from on high so long as her life wasn't in imminent danger-- well, in more imminent danger anyway. The controls for the old X-wing they'd assigned her weren't terrible either; she'd picked them up easily enough. The constant incoming fire from multiple planet-side sources was the biggest issue, and she rolled the fighter away from some, glancing at the droid chatter appearing on the screen before her.

"Yeah, I get it, thanks. Geeze, we're not even scratched; relax."

[member="Coren Starchaser"] gave the order for the Tiburons to form up, and Narasa followed those in their wing who were still airborne to take position, following the pattern until their leader gave the order to engage while his ship steered toward the planet.

A separate mission, huh? Narasa glanced abruptly right, jerking away from an incoming enemy fighter and flipping the fighter upside down in a loop to come back to face him. The tactics weren't unfamiliar to maneuvers she'd had to use to escape angry former partners, backstabbing double-dealers, and even the occasional law-enforcement officer. She focused her weapons on the ship, waiting to fire until she'd achieved a full lock on the weaving TIE fighter.

"Good luck," she said to Coren when he announced his departure, wincing against the glare as she destroyed the TIE fighter ahead of her.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

Objective: Supporting A
Allies: Non-Sith
Enemies: Sith and Sith Allies

Ryn blinked behind his mask, perplexed by the concrete lifted to block the incoming projectile. The child ran to her doll, and he visibly relaxed. He, and the child, were safe.

As she clung gleefully to her rabbit, he was trying to not concern himself with her apparently mangled arm. She was, more or less, whole. He could do nothing for her arm at the moment. He knelt before her, and looked [member="Cynthia"] in the face. "Young one, there is much danger here. I must ask you to follow those people there..." He'd gesture towards several fleeing civilians and retreating wounded troops, "They are heading to safety. I shall come find you when this all settles down. I will make sure you are safe, and cared for. Okay?" His melodic voice flowed with concern for her well-being. He couldn't stand the thought of a youngling in harms way. But he was needed here on the battlefield, so he could not follow her himself and take her to safety. He had to hope she would do as he asked and move off to safety. The battlefield was no place for a child.

If she heeded his request, he'd turn and prepare to resume his pursuit of [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], in effort to aid him and his squad to the best of his abilities.

If she didn't.... well.... he'd do what ever he had to do to ensure she was safely removed from harms way.

 

[Neiros Starwind]

Objective: A
Location: Elevation Advantage overlooking Temple Entrance
Allies: [member="Raien Keth"], OS, etc?
Enemies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], GA, SSD, etc?
Equipment: Armor and P.A.V. mk1


Neiros took a long, steadying draw from his deathstick, as he gazed through the scope of his rifle. He had his pick of targets, from this vantage point. He just wasn't sure who to pop first. There was that soldier right there.... No, Sith cut him down... How about.... Nah, downed in a storm of Force Lightening.... But wait, Lord Keth was being engaged by a Jedi. Now this.... is a fight worth watching!

"Now then, how offended would he be if I assisted? Probably greatly insulted. I think I'll wait for a slightly less obvious approach...." the rogue muttered to himself, a plume of smoke emitting out the corner of his mouth.

For the moment, he seemed content to watch. Biding his time. Waiting for that perfect shot....

 

[Placeholder 04]

Location: En route to PDF control
Allies: [member="Ijaat Akun"]
Enemies: Sithies
Equipment: In Sig

"Charming, really," Cyril quipped into the comm, "This is Grayson. I'll be there shortly." The Jedi Master shook his head. There war war, and then there was slaughter. What lay before him was a bloodbath: limbs strewn everywhere, streets running with blood, dying moans. An Alliance soldier had done this -- or a crazed Sith. Quite likely the later. He did not know Akun, but he doubted any man fighting for the Alliance's freedom would be capable of this. Grumbling his displeasure, Cyril marched through the mass grave that had once been a busy street.

Someone needs to put a stop to this. All of it.

Halfway to the defense controls, Cyril had a thought. He flicked the comms back on, and broke into a dead sprint for the beacon. "The Sith's Dark Lord is quite likely still on this world. If we can find him, we might be able to bring and end to this war prematurely." Just a thought, of course. This was the best chance any allied force had ever had at apprehending the man behind the madness. Perhaps if he was captured, or killed if need be, the Sith would face some form of demoralization. Even if that was not that case, someone still needed to be tried for the One Sith's war crimes.

He spotted the defense center a few moments later. More importantly, he caught sight of an Alliance soldier -- quite likely the one on the comms -- being pinned down by a wall of blaster fire. The center itself was well defended, but not impenetrable. The Sith would be focusing their attentions on the temple, and wherever they kept their dark prophet. The opportunity was here, and Cyril intended to take it.

His lightsaber hissed as it came to life. A number of the weapon trained on him, quite likely freeing up Ijaat to make his move. Soldiers within the Republic were conditioned to focus on Sith before they dealt with anything else; Cyril surmised the Imperial soldiers had a similar protocol. Drawing in a deep breath, the Jedi Master stepped forward, his eyes closing as he allowed the force to take him. His blade moved all on its own. Blaster bolts were batted back at the soldier emplacements, and from the sound of the screams, at least one bolt hit its mark.

He could maintain this for a moment -- hopefully long enough for Ijaat to soften up their defense.

 

[Bolt]

Enemies: [member="Cyril Grayson"] // [member="Ijaat Akun"]
Allies: The OS
Location: Moving towards the Control Station
Equipment: Spec Ops X-1 // Bodyglove // Swords // Ashin's Lightsaber // Zeo the Program // No-Show

"Sir, once you have me installed, what is the plan?" Zeo's voice asked through his HUD speakers.

"To keep the Network overstimulated. If its hard to get a grip, it will be hard for the enemy to scale that mountain." Zaiden replied. He had the feeling someone would attempt to take control of the Sith networks to do whatever it was they needed whether gathering information, or controlling droids and the like. Once Zeo was installed, he would be able to counter any attempts to gain control, as if he was the machines themselves - because in many ways he would be at that point.

With the Cloak of his armor, his No-Show active, and still his best attempts at stealth, he moved across bodies, around small skirmishes. He moved with a fluidity many didn't achieve while still being able to maintain an absolute level of stealth. Sure he had the suit and tech to control these things, but it wasn't about just tech - moving utterly unnoticed was an art. Even with the tech, it could be beyond easy to mess up.

Slowing himself, Zaiden cocked a head to the side, ignoring the sights on his HUD, as he reached into the Force...

There was something, or someone, nearby that he knew. It was someone he had met at a glimpse, but he simply couldn't place who it was. For all he was aware, he was imagining things. Yet still caution rose to the fore, and he immediately put a latch on his Force Signature using Art of the Small. Once he was sure it would require intense focus to find him like that as well, he continued to move forward.

 

[Relit Vandal]

Location: Heading towards a prison
Objective: C
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Enemies: The Sith

"We have made promises, have we not?"​

"Everyone makes promises, Master."​

"Yes, but we are not everyone. We are Jedi."​

"Sometimes I don't feel like a Jedi."​

"Good, Relit. Good. Doubt isn't the problem..."​

"No?"​

"We all experience doubt. But strength comes from the ability to not linger."​

"It is hard."​

"If it were easy, everyone would do it."​

​

~~~​

​

The Galactic Alliance had spent much time as of late, discerning who should be imprisoned, who shouldn't be, and what should be done with them afterwards. The One Sith had likely not spent this amount of time on contemplation. Relit wagered that the most they did was throw a dart at the board, figure out how long the person is imprisoned, tell them, and throw away the key. Laughing all the way to the bank. The thought sickened the Jedi Master, knowing that held captive by the One Sith, these people had been left to rot and whither away. And at the end of the day, if it meant him having to put down dogs in order to free the people from the cages, he would do what was required.

And that concession bothered him, more than he cared to admit. But where there was time to think on it, he would collect on the value of life and who should have power and who shouldn't. He remembered the man on Sullust, the soldier passing quietly away before dropping to the obsidian ground below. He didn't appreciate that feeling, the sickening emptiness at the idea of such destruction. A mother had birthed that person, someone had spent time teaching him and raising him, a world of resources had been deployed for him to become the thing he was. He deserved a life and Relit took that from him, without pause. And he would do it again today because sometimes, the path to salvation is rocky and facing the stones edge.

Stepping out from the dropship, he clicked on the arm datapad for the rudimentary map of Coruscant. Pinpointing the location of the prison, he started jogging as he moved between vending locations. Lifting his cowl, once within sight of those who might deem him adversary, he attempted to make his way through incognito. It was a long way to his quarry, he needed to make it there alive if he was to make a difference.

 

[Evan Kenner]

Location: The Ascending Steps of the Sith Academy
Allies: [member="Tiland Kortun"]
Enemies: [member="Raien Keth"]

The Sith was fast. Very fast. Evan recognized the technique his foe used against him. Soresu form? This surprised Evan. Even he was still a novice at the form, but he knew Soresu was a form that took patience to practice and was a very defensive form. In fact, it is practiced mostly for deflecting blaster bolts, not lightsaber combat. Yet this Sith seemed to really have done his homework, then taken it, wrote a ten page essay over it, and submitted it to be published to the general public and become a professional.

As soon as Evan's thrust was parried, which also came as a bit of a surprise to Evan since not a split second later, the Sith's attention had been directed elsewhere, he tried to counter the attack with a quick jab at the Sith's main arm, being his right.

But he couldn't move his right arm fast enough. In fact, it felt as if his shoulder joint had been...gripped.

Aw, sith spit!

Sith spit or sith magic, they were the same to Evan.

Evan could move his arm, just not fast enough to fight with. He had just a few seconds to move when he saw the Sith Lord's crimson lightsaber cutting through the air toward him. Unable to use his arm to parry, Evan ducked and spun around the Sith, appearing behind him. If he had brought his blaster pistol to battle today, he would have taken a pot shot at the Sith with his free hand as he ducked.

But there would be no gunplay today, sadly.

Evan grew frustrated. He did not know how to get the Sith to release his arm. He would have to improvise...

No, no. He wouldn't. He'd just have to go lefty for a minute!

He took his lightsaber out of his right hand and into his left. Gritting his teeth with anger, he used the Force to throw the lightsaber at the Sith's off-hand, which was likely the one gripping his shoulder and keeping him from moving it too much. Evan let out an angry yell out at he hurled the gold-bladed lightsaber at the Sith.

 

[Aela Talith]

A
[member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Nyte Ignis"]

Spoiler

Equipment:
Vanguard Armor
Lightsaber
Necklace
Bracers
Ring

Aela moved quickly, but not forward.

To attack was folly, especially when one was outnumbered. So instead she threw up a barrier of the force, her palm striking up and deflecting what came her way before she quickly bounded through the rubble that lay behind her. Steps were fast, almost a blur, bringing her to a full stop a few meters away from the Sith. A heavy breath left her lungs, her chest heaving as she tried to shake an odd feeling that had come over to her.

"Jacen!" She called out to her friend as he erupted into combat, a glowing presence that was a stark contrast to what had once happened. "Take the girl. Don't harm them."

Technically, she could do that. He was older than her, but she was a Marshall. Authority was good sometime.

Her own attention turned to the male. Her fingers dropping as the barrier of the force in front of her melted into nothing. Her palm shot out and then wrenched back, Aela pulling the Sith towards herself with a powerful lurch.

 

[Cynthia]

Location: STAHP ASKING ME THE SAME QUESTION.

The child blinked once, looking up at the Robot-Dude with an unreadable expression, not even following his gesture with her eyes - one would not be able to tell if she was contemplating whether or not to follow his order or simply pondering something entirely random. The answer was given, however, with a little "Kay, Mister," and an obedient nod of her tiny head a number of seconds later. Cynthia spent another few seconds staring down at the mangled old doll in her hands, then turning her head to watch the civilians and soldiers flee from the battle a number of meters away from her, regarding them with a distant look in her eyes.

Then, the orphan proceeded to get up and...walk in the entirely opposite direction. For what reason, [member="Ryn'Dhal"] was not told, but she seemed entirely to forget his presence, hoisting herself over broken slabs of concrete in the direction of the battle.

"Bugsy says mommy and daddy are over there." Was the only brief explanation Cynthia would give the masked Padawan as she shakily made her way through the rubble, the ratty plush toy flopping about lifelessly like a ragdoll in her right hand.

 

[Trask]

Location: Wherever Peyton is at.
Objective: Bravo
Allies: [member="Peyton Steele"], [member="Miad'rien'navruno"]
Enemies: The One Sith, and [member="Reverance"] (just because he might recognize me).


Trask moved easily through the streets, weaving around and through the small clusters of locals on his way to the objective. The ponchos had been a clever idea, concealing something of the operatives true natures from idle onlookers, though the disguises would never fool someone watching more closely. He'd been hired to assist this strike team on whatever mission they had been assigned, though they hadn't seen fit to provide him with any more information than that, which meant he'd been hired as expendable muscle. Which was fine with him, to be honest. He'd tried fighting for ideals and honor, and it had only gotten hundreds killed in his name.

These days, he preferred being a simple soldier of fortune. Let the idealistic fools fight and die for some other master, he no longer cared as long as he was getting paid. Or that's what he'd tell himself, at least. It made it easier to ignore the faces when you could pretend to be heartless and drown them out with violence. Of all the things he had done in his life, violence was the one he did best. His mind raced to analyze the plan as it was proposed, and came up with a dozen ways to improve it before she'd finished laying it all out, but he squashed the impulse to say anything before it had fully formed. This wasn't his op to run.

::Copy. Falling back to flank position.::

He'd selected Alpha team when given the choice of preference, and now let his pace lag behind that of the others, each of whom he could easily pick out among the crowd. He'd taken the time to familiarize himself with their auras on the way down, and he had little doubt he could track each of them halfway across the planet right now. Briefly, he turned his attention to the young chiss female that reminded him so much of himself. He could all but smell the intelligence on her, could feel the way she soaked in every detail of the world around her as only a chiss mind could. Or that's that he liked to think, at least. His masked face never turned as he cast about with his mind, having no need to physically see his surroundings with long-dead eyes, and he appeared to any onlookers to be wholly focused on where his path would take him. Though if any of them could see within the poncho, his matte black armor and solid plate of a mask would no doubt raise some interesting questions.

With his attention shifting back to the task at hand, he let it flicker over his weapons and defences yet one more time, assuring himself that they were all in readiness before he would need them. A time he had little doubt was approaching quickly.

 

[Darth Ayra]

Objective A
Location: The Vicinity of Ryn'Dhal
Enemies: Ryn'Dhal

| [member="Ryn'Dhal"] | [member="Cynthia"] |

The Dark Lord of the Sith felt the beast within her raising it's snout, on the prospect of the bloodshed that she was about to rain down upon the Sith Temple. The snap-hiss and accompanying hum of her lightsaber only showed the nefarious intentions of Darth Ayra. It's crimson beam would be an instrument death and by nights end, the One Sith would be purged of their Jedi oppressors.

All apart of the plan.

As she made her way into the vicinity, eyes traveling across the battle that was being waged, Ayra locked eyes on the Jedi closest to her. As she locked eyes on the Jedi Padawan (Ryn'Dhal) and the child that was beside him (Cynthia), Ayra could feel the a more powerful presence nearby. [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] would have his moment with the Dark Lord soon enough.

No wasted time for dialogue or attempts to turn the little ones to the dark side. Manifesting the power of the dark side in it's rawest manifestation, purple streaks of Force Lightning flew from Darth Ayra's finger tips into the path of Ryn'Dhal and Cynthia. Her air electric in the power of the Force and her face transformed by it's power, she was completely unrecognizable in this moment, for she had revealed her true self to the galaxy, if not for the briefest of moments during the Sacking of Coruscant.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

Location: same as before. Etc, etc, etc.

[member="Cynthia"] | [member="Darth Ayra"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

Ryn felt the surge of Hate rushing towards him, and knew he had to protect the youngling. Launching himself forward, he positioned himself to hopefully take the brunt of the assault. Holding his hands up towards the Sith assailant, Ryn willed the Force to strengthen him, to envelope him, and to protect him. With the aid of the Battle Meditation effect in the region, his concentration was sharper than it would have been otherwise.

What seemed as a miracle happened before the young padawans eyes, as the lightening seemed to catch upon a sort of 'bubble' just before his outstretched hands. He managed to resist the Force Lightening as it clawed hungrily towards him, repulsed by his exceptional force of will and his strong connection to the Force. He resisted as long as his untrained capacity would allow, a few seconds longer than the Dark Lord of the Sith Ayra would have EVER expected from the padawan. Then the lightening broke through and bit into him.

She would find great joy in his scream of pain, but it was short lived, as he took to a knee and grit his teeth in an attempt to endure the pain. His meditations and his discipline were all that he had to keep him from succumbing to the pain and the rage. The fear and the frustration.

It was only a few moments, but an eternity for one within the assault. Smoke rising from his robes, and a distinctly strong odor of singed hair. His eyes held a glare, unseen behind the mask, aimed at the Sith. The healer didn't feel much like healing at that moment....

 

[Darth Ayra]

Objective A
Location: Outside the Sith Temple
Enemies: Ryn'Dhal

| [member="Ryn'Dhal"] | [member="Cynthia"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] |

Darth Ayra lowered her right hand back down to her hilt, after the manifestation of her hatred passed. The hum of her lightsaber was ominous. It was the sound of things to come. Holding the lightsaber ahead of her, the Dark Lord of the Sith begun her approach to the Jedi Padawan. Her eyes told him all that he needed to know.

She going to kill him.

As she made her approach, Darth Ayra lifted her hand back up towards the child (Cynthia) and wrapped her in a Force Grip. Under the guidance of her hand, Ayra then flung her hand away from the direction it was holding Cynthia, in an attempt to throw the child away from Ryn'Dhal.

Lowering her hand back down onto her lightsaber, Darth Ayra then began to lift it above her head. In real time, it was nothing slow. She was merciless, ruthless and hateful. But in the thirty or so seconds it took for Ayra to approach Ryn'Dhal; Force Grip and throw Cynthia; and then lift her lightsaber above her head to cleave the Jedi Padawan in two seemed an eternity.

 

[Raziel]

Location: Prison

In her own mind, the avatar of the Republic Jedi had been reduced to a child. His own manifestation was now a monstrous creature of smoke and shadow.He stalked around the recesses of her mind, never letting her leave his gaze. She whimpered as he closed on her.

“Even as you lie, I can feel you attempting to rebuild your walls around it. There is a secret, deep in your mind. Stop resisting me, give it up and you will be left in peace,” he growled.

The little child shook her head, but screamed in pain before she could even finished the gesture. A well trained Jedi could cut their mind off from external sensation for days, rendering traditional torture useless. But now he was inside her mind with complete control. Everything he wanted her to feel, she experienced vividly. The screaming stopped, the child hugged her legs closer to her chest. Raziel knew he had to act quickly now. He needed to reveal the truth before the last remnants of her consciousness were shredded to bits.

“Look at your memories. The ones you would sacrifice before the secret. Do you want me to extinguish every last…” he started, before pausing. For the first time the monster turned it's gaze away.

~

Raziel opened his green eyes. On his haunches he was just inches from the Jedi. The woman, in her late twenties was still dressed in the tattered remnants of her Jedi robes, curled on the floor in a manner echoed by the childlike avatar in her mind. Alarms were blaring, signalling an interruption to his vital work.

“There is an attack on the prison,” the Sith intelligence officer explained, placing a hand on his shoulder. Raziel looked at that hand just once and it was quickly removed. As a foreign national he was completely unarmed and escorted at all times. He heard the din of a battle with his sensitive ears, felt the faint tremors of individuals communicating through the Force with his mind.

“Give me your side-arm,” Raziel instructed. The officer's eyes glazed over before passing it to him, handle first.

He had no armour, no sabers, none of the usual technological tricks he brought with him to the battlefield. Raziel was probably of little threat to legendary warriors like [member="Ashin Varanin"] right now.

Probably.

 

[Yurzhoc Shai]

Location: Coruscant, the Underworld
Allies: [member="Durzo Qinvah"]
Enemies: Heretics and Blasphemers
Objective: Infiltration.

Yurzhoc blinked slowly, clicking off the Villip as he turned his head to Stebbles. "Who...who is Yurz?" The amphistaff waved back and forth and the warrior looked up towards the lofted ceiling of the underworld, a circular hole in the middle several thousand feet away. "Ohhh, Yurz...Yurzhoc." He chuckled. "That's clever."

He cut the villip back on. "Yes, of course! I'll be right there Durz!"

He walked off towards the elevator, kicking the necessity of it straight in the teeth. "Could it hurt them to equip this place with the Chom-Vrone intestine of lifting?" He looked towards Stebbles. "Well, yes, I know that's not a thing. But it could be..." He shook his head as entered to the sound of a ring. "The shapers can do anything Stebbles, anything." He paused. "EXCEPT FIGHT THEIR WAY OUT OF WET FLESH BAG!" He looked around, no one to hear his mockery. Disappointment flashed across his face as he hit the button, inputting the floor. 1014. Wait, no, that's not right. He pressed again. 123. Wait, no that's not right either. He pressed is hand against his chin, looking towards Stebbles. "1023? That doesn't sound right." He looked back towards the key. "Fine, but if it puts us in the wrong spot, that's on you Stebbles. I can't protect you your whole life."

He inputted the code and on his way he went, the elevator lift springing to life. And in a moment, he was at the floor and searching for Durz.

 

[Relit Vandal]

Location: Near the Sith temple, shifting objectives mid step
Objective: A
Allies: Galactic Alliance, [member="Ryn'Dhal"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Cynthia"]
Enemies: The Sith, [member="Darth Ayra"]
Equipment: in Bio

"Why did you do that?"​

"Do what?"​

"Change your mind? You said you were leaving."​

"I was just upset. Misguided. I apologize."​

"Don't apologize, Relit. I have no time for it. So long as you learn from the mistake, no apology is needed. Now, what did you learn?"​

"..."​

"Nothing?"​

"I learned to follow my gut. That when something feels wrong, it's for a good reason."​

"Good."​

~~~​

​

Even as he walked towards the prison, he felt a change within him. An interface between what he was doing and what he should be doing, what he felt was right. And the prison wasn't where he was needed, despite his feelings towards the ideas of prisoners and the like. People needed help, there was no doubt about that, but his comrades needed it as well. And they were the cogs that moved this machine, those they would help would find such assistance in the passage of time. But only if the clocked turned. And with that, he paused one last time, staring quietly towards the silhouette of the prison, promising to return and help those people. But for now, help would come when it was available.

Clenching his fingers into fists, the force quickened to his body with a surge. An infinity stretched before him, the bands and slivers of the force outstretched, worlds connected by the tethers. So much power, so much influence, and he felt the grace to touch it, grateful to feel it's warmth. Sending his fingers through the zephyr, digits through the outstretched cords, he called upon the help to move him as the force turned a baby step into a sprint, and a sprint into near invisibility and speed. The movements of the Jedi Master cut across wind as if soft stone, leaving merely the wake of his presence in its hold. Within moments, he arrived at outer banks of the Sith Temple, in time to make that impact he felt arising.

Still entrenched in the power of the force, the movement of speed inherently telekinetic, he pressed his movement forward with just the tinge more he needed. Left hand let loose the dallorian alloy kukri, aiming for the hand of [member="Darth Ayra"], that was still lifting upwards to cleave the padawan in half. Same fluid movement, he rode the sails he currently drifted upon, stretching out with the force to nudge the padawan clear from the line of the strike. Even if the kukri didn't chop the hand down, his force nudge would be enough to send the padawan away from the strike and clear of present danger. The flung kukri would, of course, not be in line to strike padawan or jedi should it miss. Relit was far too careful to allow such a thing.

Either way, he would follow the inclement attack with an ignition of his own amethyst lightsaber. In his pouch, seeds of the rattan vine laid dormant, prepared to complete favor when asked. He wouldn't allow this vessel of the darkside continue upon such a path, not unimpeded, not without obstacle.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Location: Doors of Stone
Allies: [member="Evan Kenner"]
Enemy: [member="Raien Keth"]

Tiland sank to his knees after the Sith turned his gaze away, pain in his brain suddenly gone. He shook his head to clear it before hauling himself to his feet again, holding his hand out to regain his balance. He felt... dirty. Violated, like someone had pried their way into the secret chambers of his soul. Which on second thought, was exactly what happened. He blinked several times and frowned. What was that padawan getting up to? He seemed... pinned in an armlock, one that used the Force. Now that was interesting. He had never seen such an application of the Force used in such a violent way. It made his stomach roil. The Sith needed stopped before he hurt anyone else and Tiland would not allow that other padawan to come to harm. Tiland gave a deep sigh. It was time to refer back to the Anzati assassin training and his own with the staff. Hopefully he could keep the attention on himself longer so nobody else would suffer. Especially since the padawan was angrily throwing his lightsaber around now. That was never a good thing. Time to step in and get involved.

He tucked his medicine bag into his belt so it wouldn't flop around or let the strap be grabbed and pulled tight around his neck. Then he gripped the staff in two hands and let the Force flow into him. He tried to send it into the staff this time, but nothing happened. Tiland frowned. This would be interesting then. Hopefully that armor that was devouring the Sith wouldn't crack the wood. This was a very nice staff, very smooth and sturdy, without any splinters. It even gleamed a little. But the situation was more important here and as Tiland studied it, he noticed that the Sith had left his side vulnerable, which was usually a bad thing, and would be, if not for the fact Tiland carried no weapons.

Breathing was the focus. In and out, slowly and gently, in time with the pulse of the universe, of the Force which bound all living beings together. It tied the smallest bacterium to the largest megafauna, every sentient being with every other, every plant with every herbivore, and every herbivore to every carnivore. It tied Tiland to Evan and both of them to Raien, connecting them on a deep, spiritual level. Yet here they were, metaphysical siblings, locked in a life or death fight. He let his emotions sink into its web, filling him with a deep sense of calm and peace.

He adjusted his grip on the staff, pausing to take another breath, shifting to the opening Anzati stance, legs shoulder-width apart and knees bent into a crouch, staff held out in front of front of him. The stance itself was designed to spring on prey and suck out their life, but he had modified it. He bounded forward, pushing himself with the Force and struck out with staff in a quick swing, twisting his torso to add momentum and power. He aimed for the back of Raien's knee. Nothing that would cause much damage, but that was not his goal. It was to distract and destabilize the Sith to prevent him from being able to launch effective attacks.

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Beside the temple’s ruined door.
Objective A
Mission: And here it comes.
Allies: Anyone at the door.
Enemies Specifically: [member="Evan Kenner"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"] | and anyone entering.
NPCs: Two Massassi Sith Spawn, 4/6 Sun Guard
Background NPCs, Remaining Temple Guard, AA Guns, Shield Generator.


[member="Evan Kenner"]

Brave… Brave… and interesting.

He wrote the book. The product of some 100+ saber duels and almost ten thousand dead on the end of this very weapon, the fact Raien keth’s body stood at all was an insult to common sense, and only the product now of his armored alchemy which bound him.

Moving has backleg in time with his opponent as Evan sidestepped around behind, his body was twisting to hold the force crush on the opponent's shoulder firm. Raien’s sense of the battle slowed, he had a choice, take the hit from the weapon, block or dodge. He chose what only someone who had faced him before would understand. To step toward the incoming weapon, the beam had less distance to be thrown with force, and scored a burning blistering hit across Raien’s chest, as metal and vong armor were fused across its cutting trail. A great eruption of loathing built up, the pain was drawn down on, consumed to be added to the litany of wounds and Sith education.

All of that flew into Evan’s shoulder crush, the force crush exaggerated immensely from the pursuit of the wound to do who knows what damage, and worse, Evan had no weapon now as it flew off behind them somewhere. “BETTER” came the rasping phased voice, pleased that Evan's potential was growing.

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

Struck a masterful blow against the armor, most likely his staff would see some wear as it collided, but probably be fine. Raien’s armor was lighter at the joints, which aided his speed in his lightsaber rotations and stances, but left it vulnerable. Although the Sith Knight had twisted black alchemic healing across his now red skin, these legs especially had been rebuilt, rebuilt and rebuilt some more from their multitude of wounds.

Sadly for the Anzati the sithspawn he faced became deathly still, pain was his namesake and brand, the blow reminded him of many sacrifices of the flesh. It spilt outward, throwing Evan Kenner's shoulder not with care, not with concern but with as much force as the pain in the knee joint allowed into the nearest hard surface, released at last. "How exactly will you heal me... Jedi?" The voice a statement as much as a question.

Deathly still, never a good sign, Tiland met not a jab or thrust of the beam, not a teasing rotation, he met a strong two handed djem so cleave, going straight for the very center of the Anzati, followed by a strong push of the hips into a falling avalanche technique, multiple strikes looking to simply hammer him into a grounded paste, forward pressured acceleration without letting up.

For a brief moment the Jedi had woken up the wolf of old. [member="Hana Kae"], [member="Serian Loria"], [member="Darth Proeliator"] and the rest would turn in their graves.

Gear:

Spoiler

Krayt's reborn armor (signature), and Darth Surtr's edge of truth lightsaber.

 

[Evan Kenner]

Location: The steps
Allies: [member="Tiland Kortun"]
Enemies: [member="Raien Keth"]

Evan cursed out loud in huttese as his lightsaber soared behind his foe and got lost in the swarm of stormtroopers and carnage. His opponent shouted the word 'BETTER' very loudly, and frankly, quite intimidatingly. Evan had never before faced a real Sith, a few dark jedi sure, but not one who followed the Sith Code. From his first impression from this man, they were just as Evan had heard.

Vicious. Barbaric. Inhumane. Arrogant. Damn the Sith...damn them all!

His red eyes darted to the mangled body of the Sith Lord's previous victim, still dying a few feet away from him. On the padawan's belt, he spied his lightsaber. It will do...!

Evan threw a hand forward and Force Pulled the padawan's lightsaber from his belt, the tool flying from the mangled padawan's body and into Evan's hand. He ignited the blade, a beam of dark blue emerging from the emitter. He held it with both hands, locking eyes with the Sith.

He took a deep breath, swallowed his pride, and challenged the Sith. "Alright, monster. You can defend yourself. Now..." Evan blinked and took another deep breath, trying to push back his fear, "Show me if you can fight an opponent that can actually fight back!"

 

[The Hound]

Objective: Protect the Secret Vhal prison below the POW prison
Enemies: [member="Ashin Varanin"] @Spenser Jacobs
Allies: 4 Padawan-Low Knight level Hounds (please kill them)

The explosion grabbed the attention of the Hounds and sent them into a frenzy. Excited laughter and growls came from the lessers but He stood calm and collected, feeling out the the ebbs and flows in the Force. Someone powerful was approaching. The prisoners above were of no consequence to the Vahl, but these here...

He paused in thought to look back at the countless cages and cells and a low guttural growl erupted into a snarl, quieting the other hounds. This trespasser could not be allowed to find this place, no matter the cost. He gave a mental nudge to the four hounds to find and terminate the powerful Force sensitives above. He was sure their lives would be cut short by this conflict, but that was their purpose in life.

As was his own.