Skirmish The Summer Rain Rebellion [GA/SO Skirmish of Ukatis]

[Braze]

TAGS: Razmir Tezhyn

Braze had been tracking suspicious movements near the palace and stumbled upon Razmir and Cardinal during their escape with the Seers. He was not interested in flashy arrests, but he was very interested in why the Seers were unconscious and why Razmir just rappelled down like a Holonet action hero.

Perhaps Razmir might tip things in favor of peace... Perhaps he should allow him to talk the duke down.

From the slick stone wall behind the cloaked men, a shadow shifted. And from the darkness of the wall Braze stepped cleanly out of it, as if he was just materializing from the very stone it's self.

His saber ignited with a sharp hiss, casting a pale blue glow across the courtyard. Rain hissed as it struck the blade, steam curling at its edges.

"You've got five seconds..." came the vocoder's cold, mechanical voice, distorted and calm in the same breath. "To tell me why you're arming nobles in the middle of a coup."

The cloaked figures tensed, but Braze didn't look at them very long as his gaze shifted to Razmir.

 

[Kaila Irons]

FALSE JEDI

Objective: Investigate Darth Nefaron's activities

Secondary Objective: Disrupt jedi intelligence
Wearing: Akwursa + Disguise
Allies: Tamsin Graves Allyson Locke (comms)
Foes: Drystan Creed Azurine Varek Everest Vale

Kaila wandered the streets of Axilla in her new jedi robes, taking in the cacophony of the festival with mixed awe and caution.

Connected via ear-piece, she and Allyson Locke were here to investigate the activities of Darth Nefaron within the city, both Eternalist agents sure that he was up to something.

But were his sith acting in the best of interest of the order, or would she find herself fighting her own kind this day?

That thought, and the things she'd done to pursue this mission, made her anxious.

She stopped in her tracks as her shifty eyes caught sight of a very alarmed looking girl—herself—in a window.

Yet the reflection was not her own, but of an innocent girl taken too soon.

She'd done horrible things for the Sith before, but this was different. Normally it was to protect the ones she loved, or to save her own skin in a warzone.

But this?

No, it wasn't her fault, she told herself, she saw too much. How was she to know the Jedi's student had returned from her shift early?

If the girl had just stayed at the healer's tent—

Gods, is that why she fell so quickly? was the girl not even trained to defend herself? Just tend the wounded?

She would always remember that panicked face, mostly because it reminded the young Darth of herself at that age. So new, so afraid. Discovering the true horrors of the world for the very first time, before Carnifex had prepared her for all of it. Even her flaxen hair was not unlike her own then.

Kaila stared into those bright eyes, wondering if the young soul trapped in her mask was looking on with the same horror. And as she ran shaky fingers over her scalp, Kaila knew she'd never tie her hair like this again after today, lest this girl haunt her in the mirror.

She turned away then, refusing to look her moral failings in the eye.

The spirit within was required to disguise her as one of these Jedi, there was no use in confronting the means by which she achieved victory until the mission was complete.

The disguised Darth wiped the cold sweat off her brow, wandering towards crowded stage nearby, where a strangely dressed magician was putting on a show of knives.

Finally, she thought, a distraction that reminded her of home...

​

 

[King Horace]

Location: Banquet Hall, Royal Palace
Tags: Corazona von Ascania Lysander von Ascania Madrona A’Mia​

While the Seers performed their ritual in the throne room, the banquet hall a few doors down was hosting a magnificent party. Guests had arrived from all four corners of Ukatis, dressed in vibrant silks, answering the call to celebrate the summer festival in royal splendor. Servants bustled about, filling cups and serving appetizers, while musicians played instruments, filling the air with song.

At the center of the swirling maelstrom of light and sound and smells was King Horace von Cholmondeley. Seated in a hoverchair at the head of the table, he looked—to put it charitably—larger than life, a great bloated creature decked out in royal finery, a golden crown atop his head. The handsome young warrior who had won a kingdom was not to be found in his face, the bulbous nose and puffy cheeks reddened by the wine he had been sipping. But there was still a dangerous glint in his small dark eyes, which could uplift or condemn with but a look.

His gaze focused on a figure walking toward him: his chief minister, Meverell. “You’re late.”

“Your Majesty.” Meverell swept into a low bow before the king’s hoverchair, removing his hat and then replacing it as he rose. “I apologize for the delay. I ran into the Patriarch of Axilla on the way here.”

A lady standing nearby peered at them from behind her fan, trying to hide her interest. Rather than let the likes of her overhear, King Horace grunted and gestured toward an archway. “Come. Let’s talk.”

Meverell followed him into a separate chamber. A curtain closed them off from the rest of the party, and no servants came to bother them. “Now, what did Father Lakota have to say?” Horace asked, positioning his hoverchair away from the entrance.

“He said he had heard a rumor that there was to be an attempt on your life today, and asked if it was true. I told him it was, but that the rebels knew that we knew, and therefore would not be so foolish as to actually attempt to harm Your Majesty.”

“Our spies never figured out whose side Lakota was on,” Horace muttered. “What do you think, Mev? Is His Holiness a traitor?”

Lakota and Meverell were not the sort of men who typically fraternized. Religion divided them—Lakota was a clergyman of the dualistic Church, whereas Meverell followed the old gods—as well as politics. The Patriarch had spent many years in exile due to his support for Horace’s predecessor, while Meverell, who had been born a commoner, rose to his station by serving the current king. Yet both men had come from humble beginnings, and they harbored no personal animosity toward each other. Meverell’s judgment would be fair.

“No, Your Majesty,” he answered after a few moments of consideration. “I do not believe he is disloyal. He may harbor negative personal feelings, but he is not so… idiotic, as to wish ill of you.”

His wording, however blunt, left much unsaid. But Horace understood. Ukatis’ bloody wars of succession were still within living memory. Lakota may not have liked the king, but he knew that as long as he remained alive, they would continue to have peace. Overthrowing him now, when there was no longer an heir to replace him, would be idiotic.

Horace suddenly giggled like a child. “Gods. We almost wish we could hang around as a ghost and watch as all this shit becomes someone else’s problem. But no.” He heaved a sigh and for a moment, forgot to use the royal we. “I don’t want to linger. I want a clean break.”

Meverell stared intently at his sovereign, his brow slightly furrowed. The guests outside had begun to dance, stomping feet and swirling skirts visible behind the curtain at his back. Horace smiled mirthlessly at his minister.

“There came a time when the jewels ceased to sparkle, when the gold lost its luster, and the throne room became a prison... That was how it was after the queen died. All that was left was the father’s love for his child.” Horace’s gaze was distant, as if seeing into the distant past. “But now even the child is gone.”

Caught off guard by the king’s confession, Meverell stood very still, quietly observing as Horace rubbed his face. Was he wiping away tears? Or was it only beads of sweat? “You could still name a successor, Majesty,” he said softly. “Surely I could find a few suitable candidates for you to choose from.” Gods knew finding a new queen to bear another heir had proven impossible, and the late Prince’s wife hadn’t had the decency to whelp before she pushed him off a balcony.

“You’d make a splendid king, our beloved minister. But alas, you don’t have a drop of royal blood in your veins.” Horace waved a hand in dismissal. “The ones who do have a claim are all shitheads. Not worthy to wipe our royal arse, let alone sit on our throne. No, no. When I go to hell, I will take the whole world with me.” His eyebrows rose. “But I'm sure you'll manage, Mev. You always do."

Meverell didn't know what to say. So he stayed silent.

“We’re getting thirsty. Let us go and have a drink.” With that, Horace swept aside the curtain and returned to the party.

 

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Farms Outside Axilla - Ukatis
Objective: BYOO
Mission Objective: Agricultural Sabotage

• Primary: Raze the granary complexes.
• Secondary: Destroy farming equipment and vehicles.

Tag: Valery Noble

On a world like Ukatis, which was populated almost exclusively by humans, Ellissanthia stuck out like a sapphire thorn in a hay bale. Cyan-hued skin, fin-shaped ears, and long tresses of rich, deep purple hair made it so that it would have taken an expensive illusion or extensive, impractical amounts of makeup to disguise her appearance amidst the Summer Harvest Festival. Not to mention, given the relative abundance of Force-sensitives, a poorly done glamour would not have held up under scrutiny for long.

Fortunately, Ellissanthia’s Sith handlers had quickly recognized that fact. Stealth was impossible, so they’d weaponized her conspicuousness instead. Thus, the Undine had been given a mission that would not require subtlety, yet would potentially threaten the position of the King all the same. Armies could not fight on empty stomachs and starving citizens would more quickly sow revolt, than wheat.

It had been several hours since Ellissanthia had landed in the fields outside Axilla. Since then, she had slowly made her way through row after row of grainfields, sacrificing speed in order to ensure stealth. She had not killed—yet. Instead, she had let farmers and patrols pass her by while she blended into the crops, before continuing on towards her target.

Soon, the first granary loomed ahead. The structure was a towering, star-shaped complex with three grain silos on each of its four projections, each hanging a couple meters off the ground and anchored by the center silo. A small group of farmers toiled in the garage nearby, tending to maintenance on a tractor and combine harvester.

Ellissanthia quickly noted the location of the garage. Although secondary to her main objective, any farming equipment that she could destroy in the course of carrying out her primary objectives would be beneficial.

Still, the granaries were her first priority.

Slipping off her pack, Ellissanthia moved quickly around the complex, placing four Iadrium charges at select points on the structure. Once the Undine was finished, she made her way from the structure until she reached a safe distance away from the complex. The rain would contain the fire after a time, but given the quantity of explosives, the blast would carry.

Ellissanthia gave a sharp inhale as she turned and gazed back at the granary complex.

Then, breath suspended within her chest, the Undine pressed the detonator, unmaking the bounty of the harvest in a symphony of shrieking metal and burning grain.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Eclipsed Veil
  
  • Miscellaneous Equipment
    
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
  • Aesthetic and Accouterments
    
    • Red Accents
    • Eclipse Sect Symbol - Left Shoulder
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Storm Kiss
  
  • Purple Blade
• Supernal Infusion Vials
• SHIVA Vials
• Spirit Anchor Talisman
• Iadrium Charge (8)
• Siqsa-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Obscuration Canister (2)

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Ukatis Field
Tags: Open to Allies
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

Breathe. She was not a fierce storm ready to wipe away her opponents today. Inhale. She was not a raging inferno to set fire to those who went against her. Exhale. She was not the dark wave ready to drown those who thrashed against her. No. Today Reina was a Jedi. The beacon of light she wanted to be. The version of Reina that Everest and Valery believed in. The version that she could finally breathe in as she stood amongst the soldiers of Ukatis. There was a small voice in the back of her mind that said this was wrong. She should be riding up with the main Force, with Corazona but that was a foolish thought. She was not ready for that. She had known that. If it hadn't been for her encounter with Serina, Reina might not have realised how inadequate her skills were.

The rain was heavy as it pelted around Reina, bringing a quaint smile to the woman's face. Holding her hand out, she watched the droplets of water batter against her hands. She was in her element. The puddles that would be building out on the field would make this her battleground. It would be her strength. She debated to herself for a moment, turning her attention towards the wind, alongside the small nudging she could feel from Pequod. It was pushing her to try and manipulate the winds, the rain. To make it lash out harder on the field but all it took was a small sight at the troops around her for Reina to know how much of a foolish endeavour that was. She might have been in her element, but that didn't mean they were. For now, she cleared her throat. In the past, Reina would have been happy to blend into the background, to let other people make fancy speeches and whatnot. That was the job for the leaders, the Captains, the Knights. But well...None of those were right here so.

"Soldiers! Today, you face your own kin, twisted by the cruel manipulations of the Sith. I may not know you, or your world, but I can see the fire in your eyes. I know you can fight. So I ask you, what will you fight for today? Your King? Your family? Your planet? Because if the Sith win, they'll poison every one of those. As for me, I couldn't face my family if I let a bunch of rancid old rancor farts beat me! And if you're afraid, if you think you're not good enough, that you'll be overtaken, then don't believe in yourself. Believe in the version of you that your loved ones believe in. Put your faith in their faith."

With that, Reina took in a deep breath, letting the sensation of the Spirit, the Force flow through her and out of her, across to the Ukatian troops near her. They might not have faith or belief in her words, after all, she was not some shining visage of a Jedi Knight. She was still just a Padawan but if her words would not have an effect, then perhaps the Valor she was sending to them would. This was not some chance for her to show off, or to stand out. No, the most important thing was to halt the Sith's advance.

"Stand your ground! We wait for them to come to us! This is your home territory as much as it is theirs! We hold them back for as long as we can."

In a way, this was what Reina had always dreamed of. In a way, she was the Knight that the young girl on that ship had dreamed of being after being read bedtime stories. Of course, in truth she wasn't a Knight. In the Jedi sense, nor in the feudal sense. But she was a Shield that would hold against the line, no matter what. Even if she was just a Little Shield.
​

 

[Andrial Madon]

Location: Ukatis
Tag: Kael Daikan

The thrum of battle resonated through Andrial's body as her fingers curled around the grip of her sword. She hadn't earned the right to use a lightsaber. Nor did she want to use one. The Spirit that wanted to rip control away from her always made it's disgust evident when she used a blade. It always brought a sense of strength to her to fight against the wishes of something that wanted to wrest away Andrial's life. It was the main reason she had thrown herself in with the Sith. She believed they'd show her the strength she needed to expel her unwelcomed passenger. Who knows? Perhaps today would be the day she finally gained the attention of someone. For now, she stood amongst the Rebel army, sword rested atop her shoulder as her eyes checked out her "allies" for the battle. She had seen better.

Then as soon as the lines clashed against each other, Andrial rushed into the fray, letting her anger boil over to the surface. It would dull her pain, reinforce her strikes with more ferocity. The unwelcomed passenger inside of her would want to take a step back, to manipulate the tides of war from afar but...

That. Isn't. Me.

Andrial's face had twisted into a scowl of disgust and hatred as she held her sword at the ready to cleave through any unfortunate loyalist Soldier to find themselves in her way. She ultimately didn't care for what Darth Nefaron 's goals were. What he wanted for Ukatis. No, all Andrial cared about was spilling blood, to feel the rush of battle and to know that she was in Control. This was her choices. Her actions. Not anyone else's. Any and all blood she spilt today would be on her hands...and she just couldn't wait for it.

​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Kirie //: CT-312 //:

Days Prior

"312, are you dressed yet?"

Quinn crossed her arms loosely as she sighed, exasperated with the small soldier. The woman refused to take off her helmet, which made it a little more difficult to try on the dresses Kirie and she had picked out. Quinn began to pace again, waiting for the soldier, who was in the bathroom changing. How long did it take to put on a dress?

"If you need help zipping up, Kirie or I can help you." Quinn leaned closer to the door, pressing her ear against the door to see if she needed any help or if she had escaped through the window. Looking back at Kirie, she nodded her head towards the door.

"You made sure the window was closed, right?" Quinn was concerned that the trooper would take it upon herself to leave despite Quinn having repurchased her from the [Redacted] company. She liked having the trooper around; she was opinionated and funny. Quinn hadn't yet figured out how to steal 312 from the [Redacted] company, but her mind was constantly mulling over the potential plans.

Her money wasn't good enough to fully purchase the trooper, but it was good enough to have 312's services for an extended period of time.

"Okay, well, I'm coming in. You're taking too long, and obviously, you need help with something." She pushed open the door and continued to lecture the girl, "If you would just take off your helmet, it would make things so much easier."

The moment she entered the room, the orange and yellow sundress hugged the trooper's frame potentially tighter than it should. Quinn paused and smiled, "312, you know, you have to breathe,—but you look so pretty!"

As she finished, Quinn's smile fell.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the bathroom.

---

//: Attire //:

Quinn looped her arm around Kirie's as they wandered down the festival's filled streets. She watched as the shops opened and showed their wares, and the smell of food wafted through the air. Quinn smiled as she hugged Kirie's arm tightly and sighed. "It's been so long since I've been to a festival. The ones on Eshan are far more extravagant. We'll have to go for the winter solstice."

Her eyes wandered to the trooper. She was curious about the woman's past and how she became a soldier. Though as much as Quinn wanted to press the thousands of questions upon 312, she figured it would only force her to clam up tighter. Instead, Quinn would throw a question out, hoping that it would give some context to the mystery that was 312.

"You should come to Eshan as well, 312! I think you'd like it, honestly. The planet is quite beautiful." She mused, remembering the bits of her home that she could. It had been some time since she returned, but Quinn could never forget Eshan.

"Kirie, are there any festivals on Weik?" her attention was on the woman for a moment, then back to 312, "Have you been to a festival before as well?"

As they walked, several people were wearing crowns of flowers. Instantly, Quinn locked her eyes on the bright floral arrangements, and an idea sparked in her mind. Wherever this activity was, she would find it; they would all leave here with crowns of flowers. Quinn's, of course, would be the largest and the most beautiful - because she was a princess.

 

[Lirka Ka]

And so did Lirka find the quarry she so desired. Slit-like lenses locked onto the form of Jonyna Si and a wicked grin appeared beneath the Once-Sephi's helm. A clash of blades? Beautiful. With a mechanical bellow from her throat, Lirka let loose her challenge in a way of pure crudeness that befitted a hulking brute like herself.

"JEDI!"

As if the galaxy responded, lightning pounded into her metal form. Crackling over her person, perhaps in a different time: with the true foulness of carnfiex's ichor coursing through her veins, the light may have sent her into a wracked mess like it had upon Woostri. Lirka was unburdened by meddling now. She walked of her own cruel, force dead, volition.

The lightning arced off her form - Lirka could feel the simmering of flesh beneath, the writhing of the wretched meat beneath responding to the pain. A huff of exertion, with perhaps the slightest hint of pleasure behind it. A new chance to exalt in pain, to be reminded that for now she was still alive.

Though huff soon evolved into roar, Lirka's charge was not halted so easily. The mechanisms of her powersuit whirred as mud was splattered in her thunderous wake, her mighty blade raised high before lashing out to meet the Cathar. It was a testing blow, a thing to understand just what she stood again today. Admittedly, Lirka barely had much of any idea about what sort of Jedi she had stumbled into this go around, not like she knew their names. It paid to prod sometimes.

​

 

[Serina Calis]

"And when he opened the second seal, a dragon went forth. It was as black as the void, and its rider was granted permission to take away peace from the earth and to make men slay one another." - Legend of House Calis

Tag - Cin , Makko Vyres


The wind knifed up the hillside, cold and acrid with the iron stench of blood and wet earth. Serina Calis rode in silence beneath her storm-dark hood, the crimson traceries on her armor glowing dimly as if reacting to the ritual ahead. Her horse's hooves squelched into the red slurry at the base of the hill, and even the beast beneath her seemed reluctant to continue—snorting, stamping, protesting.

She made it continue.

The men gathered around the box—that obscene, sacred thing—turned to look at her. But she did not acknowledge them. Not yet. Her eyes were locked on the object at the summit: the wrought iron abomination covered in blood-smeared glyphs, quivering ever so slightly in the breathless air. A cage, yes… but also a womb.

And now it labored.

The song they chanted was alien and fractured, a jagged melody that clawed at the edges of her perception like a nightmare half-remembered. She caught flashes of corrupted Sith script, bastardized Dathomiri motifs—symbols twisted by desperation, not mastery. Whatever they had summoned, it was not by right, but by blood and begging.

Still, it had answered.

A molten eye opened in the dark. Just one. That was enough.

Serina drew her hood back slowly, golden hair damp with rain and curling around her cheeks like a saint's halo corrupted by shadow. Her sharp, pale features were lit by the flicker of that unnatural gaze within the box. It looked at her. It saw her.

She smiled. It was not kind.

"Of course," she whispered.

Then louder, now addressing the man standing tall before the cage—the priest, the madman, the fool. Mykus. She knew his name from whispers and war table rumors. A zealot, they said. A heretic. A dragon-fondler in love with prophecy.

And yet…

"You brought it here. You carved your tongue into ribbons to give it a voice. And now it looks at me."

She dismounted with elegance, boots sinking into the filth without hesitation. Her presence was ice around a hot blade—serene, sharp, and irreversible. Each step forward was a promise unspoken. She passed the Faithful without glance, as if they were merely mist.

When she stood within ten paces of the cage, Serina's voice dipped lower. Softer. Deadlier.

"I heard only whispers. Rumors. Half-mad claims of a beast bred in darkness and bound by fools. But none of that matters now, does it?"

She raised a gloved hand. Not in fear. Not to strike. But in reverence. A slow, deliberate offering. The eye within followed her movement.

"It waited for me."

A heartbeat passed. The rain stilled.

She turned, then, to Mykus Cowl—regarding him as a queen might regard a spent match.

"You knew, didn't you? That you would never be the one to ride it. That this was not your apocalypse to command." Her words were velvet and venom. "But take heart, Dragonmaster. You were useful. You called, and now I am."

Her hand lowered. Her voice became a whisper edged with awe.

"Black dragon, shadow of the mountain, flame-born terror of old. You are mine now."

And in that moment, a second eye opened in the dark.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The explosion echoed across the distant hills of Ukatis — dull and deep, like a war drum beneath the rain. Valery stood atop a narrow stone walkway near the edge of Axilla's city limits, amber eyes locked on the horizon. She hadn't needed the sound to know something was wrong — the presence in the Force had flared first. Sharp. Alien. Unfamiliar and unmistakably dark.

Then came the plume of smoke.

A column of black slicing up into the gray sky like a wound. She reached out with the Force again, narrowing her senses. Beneath the fire and destruction was something else. Not fury or mindless rage, but purpose.

Her jaw tightened. She activated her comm, voice crisp. "Explosion just east of Axilla. Smoke confirms farmland hit. I'm moving in. Alone." There was no hesitation. She leapt down from the wall and broke into a run — boots splashing across the muddy ground, her long hair whipping behind her as the rain began to fall harder. The fields came into view within minutes, and with them… the aftermath. Flames licking across shattered grain silos. Craters still glowing from the heat of the blast. Scattered equipment burning where it had been caught in the blast radius.

And in the heart of it — the ripple of something cold. Valery slowed as she neared the outer edge of the devastation, her hand moving instinctively toward the hilt at her side. The Force whispered a single truth through the smoke and fire.

She wasn't alone.

Ellissanthia ​

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

The whipcord dragged through the mud as it spooled back into its launcher. The duke took a step away to keep the mud from dirtying his fine robes, but Razmir followed and grabbed the man's blaster.

"What are you—" The duke started. Razmir pulled the gun free of the duke's hand with a slight twist.

Then a snap-hiss cut through the air, followed by a steady humming that Razmir hated more than anything in the world.

Razmir snapped his gaze to the stranger. His eyes flashed with the blade's blue reflection, momentarily exposing the deep-rooted scorn of a Jedi's bastard son. He should have expected there to be Jedi swarming the palace. The Jedi never failed to be prudent about their commitment to preserving life, and the threats to Ukatis' king had come both from an army, and the hidden blades of assassins.

The Duke von Rhallian, seemingly counting himself among the latter group, opened his mouth to speak, but Razmir interrupted the man. Raz returned to his Corellian persona in the span of a heartbeat, placing a hand on the duke's shoulder.

"The esteemed Duke von Rhallian has aided me in exposing a threat to the king's safety. These two men here," Razmir pointed to the cloaked figures, "attempted to pressure my good man here with blackmail to kill the king."

The Duke shot a confused look to Razmir, but was ignored.

"Master Jedi, if you would take them into custody," Raz gave the Jedi a smile.

The two figures drew back, almost cowering as their hooded heads moved between Razmir and the Jedi. In the lightsaber's glow, Raz could barely make out the scared features of youths who'd likely never even seen another's blood before.

"I, we—" The first one, slightly taller than his companion, stammered.

"Keep quiet and don't make your situation worse, hm?" Raz shot them a warning glance with a raised brow.

Braze

 

[Azurine Varek]

Of Jesters and Kings

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords (All hidden for the moment)

Accompanying the magician, poised behind him on the stage, stood an equally elegantly dressed figure wearing a similar white mask. Long, light brown hair cascaded across her shoulders, and though the skirt, leotard, and corset top matched his, it was obviously designed for a different type of performance.

Disguised, every tattoo, scar, and horn covered by either a mask, a wig tailored to her head, or the skin-colored armor-weave bodysuit underneath the flashy costume, Azurine waited poised for his performance to close before beginning hers. Though she wasn't quite sure how well this would go given her current physical limitations, her goal was yet simple:

Remain hidden in plain sight, hold a visual of auras around her, and keep the emotional patterns from flaring.

She barely felt the floor beneath her bare feet before she launched into a powerful straddle mount, muscles coiled like springs. It wasn't as graceful as she would have liked, nor could she pull out her most stunning tricks and move with her body not yet at its full capacity, but she hoped it would be enough.

The lyra swung with momentum as she pulled herself into the air, the world already spinning. In her focused rhythm, time seemed to condense. She flowed from a hip hang into a back balance, then snaped to hang by her feet under the hoop, though unable to get her muscles to cooperate for a full split, the centrifugal force of her spin carving arcs of light around her.

The audience watched as she transitioned into a series of poses along with the music, the suspended hoop twisting through the air as she did. The gold accents in her top catch the light in bursts—flashes of molten brilliance that flicker with each rapid rotation. Her skirt fluttered wildly around her, a blur of motion that trails behind her like flame, amplifying every twist, every whip of her torso through the air. She took the hoop's momentum to her advantage, incorporating beats and drops that elicit gasps from the audience.

Not perfect, far from it in the end, as her mind screamed at her body to just do what it was told. She made mistakes that she had to cover up as being part of the routine, but clearly, this audience didn't need perfect to be convinced and entertained. That, or she was better at improvisation than she gave herself credit for.

Drystan Creed | Everest Vale | Kaila Irons | Tamsin Graves​

 

[Makko Vyres]

UKATIS

SHIELD | ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | DRONES | ARMOR APPEARANCE | SHIP | PISTOL​

Allies: Corazona von Ascania
Enemies: Cin Serina Calis

He had bound his fate to Ukatis.

It had seemed such a small thing at first. Just a few words confirming that he would follow Cora home when she was drawn back. It had meant so much more within just a few seconds, when they both realised how certain he had been to make that promise.

Time had past, he had made deeper commitments. They had escaped to bind their fares together in secret. Now they were drawn back, before they could even share the news to their closest friends.

Makko drew his swoop bike slowly after the group of horses. He had grown up on a world devoid of wildlife. Whilst he had found his first trip to Coruscant zoo completely fascinating, the idea of riding - and trying to control - a real animal filled him with dread.

He needed the speed of the swoop bike. He wasn't hear to give grand speeches and rally the troops. He was a Jedi Shadow.

He would do the ugly, but necessary work of eliminating another sith quickly and quietly if they revealed themselves.

 

[Aris Noble]

Avoid lethal force.

Aris's expression blanked a little at the request. This was a war, wasn't it? People choosing to kill, when they should've chosen peace. When they chose the Sith's poison directly. Or had they? His brow knitted together as he realized just there his mind had gone. That wasn't the mindset of the Jedi he wanted to be. His saber flicked on, the cold silent blue smoldering in his grasp.

He could fight without killing far easier than the others. The weapons these people had, they wouldn't harm him.

There was no horse for the taller boy as he ran with the others. They were too small for him to ride comfortably, and they were slower than him on foot. The group was bubbled behind him, defended from onslaught by one of the Knights there. Jalen, if he was right. It'd been a while since he last saw the other Kai'el, and the wild hair on his head certainly made it more difficult to recognize him. But that face was still like Jasper's.

Good. That'd make it easier on him to focus on the front.

He moved as a blur, weaving through the Ukatian soldiers in their path harmlessly. A cold, deep slumber was all that waited them, mixed with surprised yells and a futile attempt to co-ordinate to take down the seeming giant cleaving through their ranks. Even if he was shot though Aris didn't pause. The blasters they carried couldn't harm his skin, which meant he could focus solely on offense. He'd make sure the path was clear for Cora.

Corazona von Ascania | Jalen Kai'el | Lyssa Clauda | Phoebe Winsloe

 

[Dominick von Ascania]

He'd realized what was happening far too late. His focus had been on securing the relief aid needed across the planet, to make sure the people that had been neglected so long were at least given the necessities all needed to survive. It was peaceful, it was kind. It was blinding. The smiles and thanks he'd been given, they'd been hiding the discontent, the rage at the status quo. At the need to have these kinds of hand outs in order to just survive.

It didn't surprise him at all that rebellion was the path so many chose. In a way, he agreed with it. The King, the Prince that had been married to Corazona and brought her so much misery, the culture that allowed it, it needed to change.

But this? His father making deals with the Sith to bring war to Ukatis?

He stood and watched the soldiers. Watched the beginning of the war. A necessary evil to end once and for all the beliefs that would lead his younger siblings to pain and misery.

".. Is this truly the path we need to walk, father?" The irony of the question was not lost to him. Dominick wanted nothing more than to cast out the man who had used his sister as a bargaining chip, and yet, a necessary evil it was indeed. "How many people will die for this?"

Marcel von Ascania

 

[Razh Sho]

Allies: The Royal Army | The Republic |
Enemies: The Rebels | the Sith | Nodak​

The downpour dulled the screams. The rain did not cleanse. It buried. It swallowed the sound of metal giving way to fire — and fire to mud. But not him. Across the shattered treeline, where the tall grasses had been reduced to slurry and wire, he came—not as a man, but as a moving monument to war. Razh stood still beneath the hood of his soaked cloak, watching through the haze as each step of the armored titan left a crater in the earth. Not footfalls. Imprints. Intentions. The kind that changed the rhythm of a battlefield before the sabers ever touched.

He did not need to see the HUD glow to know it had activated. The rotary cannon's growl was enough. A sudden staccato roar, sweeping death like a god's breath through fog. Each burst of firelight etched the silhouette of something more beast than soldier — shield raised, cannon alive, methodical and merciless in its purpose.

"Nodak," Razh murmured beneath his breath, the name carrying with it the weight of rumors heard in Alliance intelligence briefings — a war-bred colossus from another battlefield, now turned against royalty for reasons that had not yet surfaced.

Around him, Alliance troopers scrambled to reposition. Some called for artillery coordinates. Others simply froze. Razh raised one hand. Not in panic. Not to command. To feel. And the Force met him there — not in clear guidance, but as pressure. As the slow bend of reality around a presence that did not belong. Not Sith. Not Jedi. Just engineered inevitability.

He exhaled through his nose.

"This one does not fight for glory," he said aloud, turning to the captain beside him. "He fights as if justice were weight... and he intends to bury it."

Then, at last, his right hand lowered to the curved hilt beneath his cloak. Not drawn yet. But ready. "Pull the line back to the second trench. Keep the wounded moving to the rear."

The captain hesitated. "Master Sho—"

"That's not for you to stop."

The cannon fired again. Fire in rain. A demon breathing fury behind a faceplate.

"It's for me."

And with that, Razh Sho stepped forward — slow, alone — into the broken earth, toward the beast that war had shaped… and toward the question that would only be answered when blades met beneath stormlight.

 

[Cin]

UKATIS
THE EVE OF THE BURNING
- Serina Calis - Makko Vyres -
​

Slowly, ponderously, the other eye opened. Each a burning cinder, suspended amidst the darkness. They both regarded their surroundings, before falling on... a woman. She was... different.

Mykus Cowl bowed his head as Serina approached, his jaw clamping down to keep his tongue from betraying him. It truly was her, that mote of power from his vision. And her first words to him, to all his family had accomplished... was dismissive. Yes, she was destined to ride... but he would not give up his power so quickly.

"Shadow-Rider." Mykus raised his head. Indeed, his tongue was runed, split down the center like a serpent. "The Beast awaits. But know that it is under our command. And know that with not a thought, I will make it your apocalypse." No outsider would ever truly claim the power of the Shadow. To accentuate his point, he tilted his hand towards the Dragon. Issued it a silent beckon.

And indeed, it was a Dragon. Runes burning along it's skin, the drake crept from the box like a butterfly from it's cocoon. Dark scales, ashy black from the rain. Wings furled, thick and leathery. A tail like a bullwhip, lashing back and forth as it slithered forward. A collar of iron had been nailed into the thing's neck, with two handles where one might hold to ride. And it's head...

Metal had been poured over it, and left to cool, forming the melted impression of the dragon's head, locking it's jaw shut. Only two eyes had been chiseled out for it, revealing those burning cinders, each now cooling to a dull iron color. It kept it's head low, but there was no anger in it's eyes. No burning retribution. Only a tranquill, accepting calm.

His rage was saved for the Force, immolating it so completely that one could nearly see the lines of heat in the air.

"Take it into battle, o Shadow-Rider." Mykus Cowl's benediction was obviously more jealous than fervent. Still, he found some grim satisfaction to it. "Give your commands, and it will obey. But falter for a moment... And you will burn."

For it's part, the dragon... lowered a wing. Creating a path for Serina to walk up to it's collar. But all the same, it's eyes flashed a moment. A telepathic voice scratched at the Sith's mind, as if spoken by a child who had never learned to whisper. Each defiant word seemed to cause the drake pain, but it forced them out regardless.

I am mine, Leech.​

 

[Nodak]

Allies: The Rebels | the Sith
Enemies: The Royal Army | The Republic | Razh Sho
Equipment: Nevermourne | Shield | Armor​

---

Battle was joined. Across the comms of his helm the Monster heard the beginning forages that occurred elsewhere. The Rebels would test the lines of the Royal Army in what would become a probing of defenses. Nodak himself had no time for that, there was preference in his heart to break the enemy lines and do as much damage on his way to the walls of the capital as possible.

No victory but an absolute one was worthwhile.

On the hud his optics picked up movement, what he first mistook as a charge he then recognized as men withdrew from their forward line to retreat backwards towards a secondary one. He laughed, beneath his helm it would sound mechanical but if it were removed it would be bestial and echo across the battlefield. If the enemy had broken already then taking to the battlefield would yield little satisfaction for him; he'd yet to even crush the skull of a man in his gauntleted hand.

Soldiers were retreating, all of them except one. A sensation in the force buzzed in the back of his mind. He turned his head to regard the distant silhouette that optics confirmed was moving forward not backwards.

"Fire at will, except on that one."

...his command as he turned to move in the direction of the unknown. The Troopers that had flanked him would take positions, fire at any soldiers they could make out in the dense rain before they could reach their secondary line.

An artillery shell went off ahead of him, blasting a crater into the wet earth and causing the wet ground to explode upwards as it was thrown in all directions. Dirt and smoke mixed with the heavy downpour to further obscure vision. As it cleared the large silhouette of the Monster would come into focus again, striding through it without complication.

He'd clasp the haft of the enormous Mace, Nevermourne, that hung over his right hip and unclip it; it would hover at hip height as Nodak continued to close the gap towards Razh Sho . Similarly his shield slackened, he let it angle more to his left rather then holding it upright at his fore. Taking a few more steps, every foot step causing the earth beneath him to sink under his weight he'd have growled...

"What do they call you? Aside from dead."

...and in tandum with the guttural sound of his words the rotary canon would open up again, the telltale sign of 'dragons breath' would pierce the heavy downpour as it fired on the figure that had entered the broken earth of the battlefield to confront him.

 

[Marcel von Ascania]

APPROACHING THE CAPITAL

Allies | Darth Nefaron | Dominick von Ascania | Nodak | Serina Calis | Lirka Ka | Andrial Madon | Ukatian Rebels | Sith
Enemies | Corazona von Ascania | Jalen Kai'el | Aris Noble | Makko Vyres | Razh Sho | Reina Daival | Minerva Fhirdiad | Jonyna Si | Royal Army | Galactic Alliance
​

For the corner of his eye, Marcel slid his gaze toward Serina. A compatriot of his benefactor, she spoke as if she were plucking words from ancient, arcane scripture. It created an odd contrast with her youthful appearance.

What was most startling, was how her visage reminded him of his Corazona. Yet this woman held the blade of a knife within her eyes, and there was something unsettling to her countenance. That was where their similarities ended. Despite the alliance he'd been swayed into, he found the Sith to be rather unpleasant.

Ghosts, gods, monsters – was it sycophantic drivel, or a prophetic declaration?

The viscount cleared his throat with a low rasp. "May the storm clouds part in your favor, Lady Calis."

Once she departed, her steed kicking up muddy water as they she sped away, Dominick spoke. It was a question he often asked of himself – was this truly the path? Countless soldiers would die. Civilians would suffer. There was even the chance that, if they won the day, the Sith would bury a blade in his back and take this world for their own.

He let out a heavy sigh. A weary one, too. "There are no other paths left for us to walk."

They'd come this far, and Marcel's faith had to be unshakable. For his men, for his family, for his vision for Ukatis.

"War is never a kind thing, my son. But this war – this rebellion – is far less cruel than the pain Cholmondeley has inflicted unto our people. This is not just our right, but our duty as the caretakers of Ukatis."

The heavy staccato of a cannon was punctuated with crackling blasterfire. One of the armored Sith squads broke out into some strange chant before charging. Marcel had not yet given the signal for them to push the final distance to the capital, but that hardly mattered now. The assault had begun.

"Impatient savages," he scoffed beneath his breath. The would-be king unsheathed his sword, forged metal catching no light on a battlefield blanketed by smoldering clouds and rain.

"Sons of Ukatis!" His voice carried, bellowing over the din of war. "Draw your swords. Feel the winds of change at your back. Today we reclaim the capital; tomorrow, we begin the forging of a greater Ukatis!"

A thunderous cry rolled through the rebel army as they raised their weapons; some praised the gods of war while others hoped for a better Ukatis - one free of the greed and corruption brought about by King Cholmondeley.

A glance was sent towards Dominick. For the briefest moment, Marcel considered warning him to stay back. He was the eldest son, and thus the de facto heir of the Ascania family. He'd spent years educating him, molding him, shaping him into the next head of their house.

But the viscount had other sons.

Marcel pointed his sword toward the tallest spire of Axilla. The bell tower. His men spilled around him, rushing into the fray. While the Sith could not risk transporting large numbers of their own troops this far into Alliance space, they'd find soldier flying the colors of House Ascania – blue and white – fighting alongside them.

 

[Jonyna Si]

​

TAG: Lirka Ka

Jedi.

Right as the sith charged her, she felt it. A moment of clarity. For weeks now, she had let the haze of her breakup with Jenn Kryze hang over her. wallowing in sorrow, wondering why Lygala had shifted her fate like this. Why the stars themselves seemed to want her alone.

But hearing that word, it became clear. Clear how monotonous this had all become. How her own sorrow had clouded her of who she was.

Jonyna Si was not the Sentinel of Harmony. She wasn't a Jedi Master. She was so much more than that. More than just another jedi. More than just a blade in the crowd.

She was a rebel. A warrior. A hero.

But most of all?

She was a cheeky little cat.

As the sith's blade came plunging down on her, suddenly she moved. The burst of speed caused not by a natural movement of the body, but by an explosion of flame from Jonyna's side. Not horizontal she went, but diagonally, up and around the sith as she slid across a root that shot from the ground suddenly, the jedi master grinding across it like she was on a skateboard, before using her tail to open fire with a hidden ion pistol in her coat.

"Missed me!" She practically sang as she held a defensive stance against the armored brute. "Gonna have to be quicker than that to catch a cat, big girl~"