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

[Dominick von Ascania]

No other paths left for us. Dominick stared at his father for a few moments, wordless. Gone were the eyes of the boy that had revered his father as a saint. In it's place, the eyes of a man who no longer had the wool pulled over them. It was too late for him, just as much as it was for his father. The rebellion, this war, it had always been simmering under the surface, waiting for a spark. If not Marcel, another could manipulate the poor into fighting.

Just as the King had prior.

He turned his gaze forward, watching the charge only for a moment before drawing his own sword. He knew his father's plans. To become the next king, to be the guiding hand to make Ukatis strong, great again. He wouldn't let Marcel be the next king. He wouldn't let there be any king to grow bloated on a throne.

So he charged with the soldiers, blade held high as his armor gleamed in the firelight of war. He'd fight to make sure Ukatis was free of this cycle.

Marcel von Ascania | Serina Calis

 

[Razh Sho]

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

The monster spoke — his voice guttural, mechanical, laughing like war given lungs.

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

And then came the roar. The rotary cannon ignited with sudden fury, a searing flood of red bolts cutting through the rain like dragon's fire. The earth split. The air cracked. A dozen shots would have torn through a walker's armor, turned a man into mist.

But Razh Sho was no ordinary man. He didn't charge. He didn't leap. He moved — the way wind moved through reeds. A single sidestep. Fluid. Predictive. His blue blade hissed to life in his right hand with a sharp snap-hiss as the first streak of plasma streaked toward him. He didn't block all of it — he didn't have to. The first bolt deflected off his saber at an oblique angle, redirected rather than resisted, in true Makashi form. The second, he avoided entirely with a subtle tilt of his torso. A third clipped the hem of his robe — the fabric singed, but his flesh untouched.

A deeper breath guided his next motion. The cannon fired again. This time, Razh surged forward — not fast, not reckless, but precise. His feet danced through the mud as if he'd trained on water, each step chosen not by instinct, but discipline. The shots came in a tightening arc. Razh rotated, lightsaber sweeping in a delicate spiral — catching bolts at the wrist, deflecting them away with minimal motion.

Not power — efficiency. A duelist's response to a juggernaut's fury.

One bolt hissed dangerously close to his lekku. He didn't flinch.

"They called me ghost," he said over the roar of cannonfire, voice cutting through the storm, "when they woke me from carbonite."

Another step. Closer.

"Others called me Master."

He raised the saber in the Makashi salute, two fingers brushing the emitter.

"Once, I was called traitor."A step more. "But the name that matters…"

Another burst of blasterfire screamed toward him — but now he was too close, the cannon's spread beginning to betray its wielder. Razh cut a downward crescent with his saber — cleaving one bolt mid-air, redirecting the others into the muck.

He moved through fire like a shadow finds gaps in light.

"…is Sho!"

His cloak peeled back behind him, rain cascading from his shoulders like shedding weight. And now he was within striking distance. The Jedi Master stood alone in the open, blade humming steadily, water hissing against its edge — a single calm note against Nodak's thundering violence.

 

[Nodak]

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

---

The Jedi moved with grace and poise, dodging around the hellacious cannon fire while revealing himself in the process. The Monster had already suspected due to the presense he felt in the force, closer than the others and more prominant but as the blue blade of his lightsaber came to life there was no further need for assumptions. Now he was certain what was standing across from him.

The Cannon tore through the earth, the Jedi avoided its firepower. The Blue blade of the lightsaber cut and deflected cannonfire away. Every movement, every deflection brought Razh Sho closer to him.

When it became obvious that the Jedi was maneuvering inside his arc of fire the cannon ceased. Downpour once again replaced the sound of firepower being belched into existance. There was a stillness to it.

Tightening his grip on the haft of Nevermourne he would begin to lift the weapon, it would seem as though he was preparing to crush Razh Sho with a heavy downwards blow now that he had come within reach of him...

"You talk to much, Razh Sho."

...the words punctuated not by the fall of the enormous weapon but a concussion force that spread outwards away from Nodak. A wave of energy cascading outwardly, not a byproduct of the force but of the repulsor the vambrace of his armor came outfitted with. A shockwave that could pick a man up and throw him, back across the battlefield.

Then Nodak swung, bringing Nevermourne down and activating the plasma tether that would maintain the connection between head and haft. Mace was transformed into morning star as crimson energy arced, evocative of a lightwhip. The Head, flanged and solid came down like a meteorite and would cause earth to erupt beneath it on impact alongside a torrent of blood and flesh should it make contact.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

ATTENTION: Lysander von Ascania | Madrona A’Mia | Sibylla Abrantes | Ashley Nevermore | Darth Kentarch | Drystan Creed | Nos Voros | Razmir Tezhyn | Braze | Azurine Varek | Kaila Irons | King Horace | Quinn Varanin

A figure could be seen moving against the parapet of the tower's belfry. More often than not, things on Ukatis were done the old-fashioned way. They were as reverent to tradition as they were lacking in widespread modern technology.

The rope was pulled. The bell would toll in slow, heavy chimes that rolled over the capital like thunder.

CLANG!

Some of the conversation stopped, interrupted by the deep, brassy jangle.

CLANG!

Eyes began to lift from the captivating magic show and the enchanting acrobat, and lift towards the source of the noise.

CLANG!​

Three chimes. The signal given to the Sith and rebel elements to begin the onslaught. Shortly after the final knell, a rumbling was felt beneath the bell tower. Concerned chatter rose from the crowd as anxieties began to heighten.

KA-BOOM!​

The bell tower exploded, sending a hail of shattered stone and hefty duracrete chunks raining down on the festival. The bell itself, several thousand pounds of copper and tin, began tumbling to the ground.

Panicked screams erupted. The rumors were true. The rebellion had struck the capital.

---

Allies | Jalen Kai'el | Makko Vyres | Aris Noble | Royal Army | Galactic Alliance
Enemies | Darth Nefaron | Marcel von Ascania | Dominick von Ascania ??? | Rebel Army | Sith

Beneath overcast Ukatian skies, the violence of war unfolded like a fresco plastered over chapel walls. The clang of vibroswords and shouts of soldiers rang out, punctuated by increasingly frequent blasterfire. Raindrops gleamed like tiny jewels as they clung to breastplates and slid down the curved blades of axes. It was a chaotic mix of mud and bloodshed, anger and fear.

Some saw the glory in it. Cora did not.

There was an ease to the way she moved through the frontline. Jalen rode beside her, his skin luminous as if he contained the light of the sun. The Force moved around him, around her and their retinue, in a stalwart expression of protection. A shield. How he'd grown, from a prodigal Padawan to a capable Knight. Makko was behind them, following on his swoop bike to eliminate any Sith that sought to disrupt their path, and Aris was thinning the herd by rendering the enemy unconscious.

Finally, atop a hill overlooking the onslaught, was her father. Beside him, her brother.

Corazona's heart fluttered. Makko would feel her resolve shiver through their bond, but maelstrom of conflict within her was steadied by the presence of her allies - many of whom she counted as friends. Jalen shielded her.

Shan , the experienced healer that he was, coordinated the triage that would already begin receiving wounded. Jonyna Si was engaging a Sith with a bright crackle of lightning, and the voice of Valery Noble crackled over her comm, signaling her engagement. Further into the city, Drystan Creed and Azurine Varek had blended into the festival to watch for any would-be assassins.

Cora had put her faith in them. It was not an easy thing, to lean on others while a rebellion threatened to rip her home asunder. It was not that she lacked in trust or faith, but it was guilt that weighed on her heart so heavily. Guilt that her own family had consorted with Sith to wreck such havoc upon their own people. Guilt that she had not found out sooner, as they'd doubtlessly organized in Ukatis' rural shadows for months.

Guilt that, in a way, this was her fault.

No distractions. Trust in the Force and in your allies. You are here now, and you will do what you must.

With a heavy inhale, Cora lifted her voice. It rippled across the battlefield as the bells of the city tolled.

"Marcel von Ascania," she cried. Her horse sped into a gallop, racing over trampled grass and soft earth. "Stop this madness at once!"

 

[Razh Sho]

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

The roar of the rotary cannon fell away, replaced by rain. It fell in thick sheets across the cratered field, steam hissing where it struck scorched earth. Razh Sho stood at the edge of the colossus' shadow — his lightsaber angled low now, its hum steady, a line of clarity in the chaos.

Nodak moved — not slow, not fast — but with a purpose that made the earth seem smaller beneath him.

"You talk too much, Razh Sho."

The name struck with more weight than the cannon had. Spoken not with mockery, but like a sentence being handed down. Razh's brow creased, not in anger, but in recognition.

And then came the shockwave.

There was no time to leap. No room to retreat.

So Razh Sho yielded.

Not to defeat — but to flow. The moment the repulsor blast erupted from Nodak's vambrace, Razh's knees bent and his left foot slid back, grounding his center of gravity like a duelist folding into a ripple. His free hand snapped downward, cloak splaying as he pivoted with the wave rather than against it. The shock slammed into him like a durasteel wall. It lifted him, tore mud from the earth and sent his cloak whipping backward like a banner being ripped free. But Razh twisted mid-air — body rotating into the momentum, converting the throw into a controlled spiral.

He hit the ground three meters back, knees bent on impact, saber still lit, its hum never faltering. One foot slid in the mud before he stilled — cloak now sodden and streaked, but his form was untouched.

The moment of stillness cracked.

Nevermourne descended.

A crimson lash of plasma arced from the flanged mace head — now tethered in the manner of a morning star, hissing and howling like a star dragged down by gravity itself. The weapon came for Razh like the fist of an angry god. He moved just in time. His saber snapped up in a tight arc — not to meet the blow, but to redirect its path, sliding past the angle of descent. His form was elegant but tight, designed not for power but precision. Makashi wasn't made to stop hammers — it was made to make them miss.

The plasma-tethered head of Nevermourne smashed into the ground beside him, and the earth exploded upward in a geyser of steam and soil. Dirt pelted his robes. Razh twisted around the cratered edge, one boot stepping to the left, the other rotating back, drawing the weapon's arc just beyond his ribs.

Still standing. Still composed. His saber's tip floated forward.

"Perhaps," he said through the hiss of steam, voice rasped but clear, "but you listen too little."

A pause. The rain intensified.

"A hammer sees only things to shatter. But a blade… chooses its cut."

Razh stepped inside again — cloak now clinging to his frame, saber lowered, centerline perfect. The duel had begun in earnest now.

 

[Meleena Bloodscrawl]

Arrived With: 1st Special Precision Group (One fire team)

Fire Team: FORCE HUNTERS (DESIGNATED MARKSMEN)

Spoiler

Spotters X3
D-13 Assassin Droids (2) Support Nuetralizer(1)

Remote Control turret fitted with DLT-19X Targeting Blaster

Blasters
BR-212 Jackal ACR (Support Marksmen)
Civil Defense Laser Disruptor (Leader Marksmen)

Side Arm:
HB-42 Blaster Pistol (All)

Melee:
Talon Vibrodagger

Armor:

Myrmidon Armor (Custom Appearance)

Clone Pyros (1 Fire team, consisting of ten people)

Spoiler

Standard Weapons Heavy Republic Flame Thrower (3 members)

Plasma Projector (4 members)

Heavy Weapons
PLX-1 Portable Missile Launcher (Support)
PMG (Support)
Assault Cannon (Support)

Thrown:

Ordinance (Light)

Plasma Grenades (4 each)

Melee:

Model 7 Therm-Ax

Explosive Knives (4)

Mk II Hotspot Armor

Support: Flame Battle Droids (2 Per Squad)

Wearing: Venture Armor (Custom Appearance)

Arrived in: Heavy Sniping Interceptor

Armed With: GWE-002

Objective: War Fields


Earlier, Kytrand


Meleena stared at the Fett Clone Pyros being rolled in on gurneys, all bound in straightjackets. It was a bright and early morning on Kytrand and they were in a recently set up military outpost for the House's burgeoning Special Forces division.

"IT AIN'T MEEEEEEE....IT AIN'T MEEEEEEE...I AIN'T NO SENATOR'S SOOOOOONNNNNN..." The restrained Clone Pyros sang as they were brought in by a team of Clone Ashla Healers.

Meleena, dressed in a skintight gold catsuit that was ultra reflective, folded her arms and stared at her brother Nathan, who wore an entirely crimson three piece business suit and matching tie.

"You're sure they're safe?"

"Safe? Nah. They ain't safe. Effective? Yes. But never safe. Real front-towards-enemy sorts." Nathan answered. "Just make sure you don't let the restraints off until they're in the battlefield."

"Do we really need to resort to such violent measures in this case?" Meleena asked due to the dictates of her programming.

"I feel it's necessary, yes. Our Intel says the Sith will strike, and we can't afford to send a large force like normal. So we need a smaller Force of heavy hitters to compensate. Plus, the Pyros ain't been out in a while, and you gotta use them otherwise their pyromania risks harming us."

"These ones haven't seen combat in a while. You can tell..." one of the catsuit clad Healers said.

"Flame! FLAAAAAAME! BURN! BURNY-BURN-BURN-BURN!" a Pyro yelled.

"MY ARMOR IS CONTEMPT." another Pyro exclaimed.

"Anyone care for a spot of tea?" One Pyro asked calmly.

Meleena raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem too bad."

"It's a trick. He's the most psycho of the bunch. Here, I'll prove it..." one of the healers trailed stepping to the calm sounding Pyro.

"Why, of course, I'd love to have tea! What sort of tea?"

"GASOLINE TEA!" The Pyro exclaimed in maniacal excitement.

"WOW." Meleena noted. "How am I supposed to keep control?"

"You don't. You just tell them to kill Sith and their allies. Then we send in a team to retrieve them later."

"How do we retrieve them safely?" Meleena asked.

"We bribe them with candy. That usually does the trick." The Healer confessed sheepishly.

Meleena was deadpan at the answer.

"Candy." Meleena said.

"Yes. Candy." The Healer answered.

"Do these people get therapy?" Meleena asked.

"All the time. But I think I think Nathan's family messed up their coding, because Pyromania seemed to be hard wired into all of them..." The Healer answered.

"We try our best to treat them, but they really like using flamethrowers and stuff like it's a PVP server."

"I SPREAD THE TRUTH OF THE HOLY MATCHSTICK!" A Pyro shouted on his gurney, giggling in an unsettling manner.

"They're pretty fethed up." A healer acknowledged.

"YOU'RE-OUUUUT-OF-TOUCH, I'M-OUUUUT-OF-TIME, BUT-I'M-OUT-OF-MY-HEAD-WHEN-YOU'RE-NOT-AROUUUNNNNNDDDDD..." the Pyros sang in unison, their inherent mental instability allowing them to break the fourth wall slightly. Meleena caught Nathan doing a slight dance to the lyrics, due to him being mentally unstable to a degree himself.

"What? It's a catchy song." Nathan said in his defense when he saw Meleena staring at him in bewilderment. "See? Even the healers are dancing to it!"

Meleena turned and sure enough, the Ashla Healers were dancing to the catchy lyrics.

The Biot pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"This family sometimes..." she muttered.

Present.

"BROTHER! BRING ME THE FLAMER! THE! HEAVY! FLAMER!" one of the now fully armored Clone Pyros shouted in his flame proof suit.

The Ghost Sniper Unit, a team of seven dedicated Fett Clone Snipers looked at their mad clone brethren, still in their straitjackets as the Sniping Interceptor discreetly approached the planet, and silently thought HELL NO.

Meleena had morphed her face using her cybernetic disguise implant to look like she wore a mask to conceal her identity on the battlefield as it touched down in the city limits on a roof mere minutes before the rebels began to march on the capitol.

The explosion of the Bell Tower in the distance signalled for the heavy fighting to begin on both sides. While the Snipers would hunt for Sith Targets in the Capitol, the Pyros would sow insanity and death on the battlefield just outside its boundaries. They had paid generously for routes that would lead them discreetly out side the walls proper without running into friendly patrols who didn't know who they were. Meleena would fight on the outside of the city with the Pyros.

Soon, the Pyros were freed from their jackets, given their weapons, and told good luck. Meleena's only order was to kill as many rebels as possible. She would act as a Force Multiplier, drawing as much aggression as possible.

And draw aggression she did, for as soon as she was on the other side of the city walls she and the Pyros immediately came under fire, only for her Enhanced Eyes to retaliate by firing off bright pink maser beams and cutting into the shooters, melting their flesh like it was butter.

The Pyros took up pure offense, seeing so many to burn alive that they were ecstatic with happiness. Even the pouring rain could not douse the flames from their flamers, their support members unleashing salvos of cannon, mortar, and rocket fire at anything that wasn't Alliance or Jedi.

Meleena, her body highly advanced and fitted with repulsor organs, didn't hesitate to fly over the battlefield and start dive bombing enemy units with pink maser fire from her eyes, ripping into enemy ranks and suddenly having a ton of anti-air fire directed at the freakish woman, who landed and activated her Dovin Basal heart, slowing enemies down as she whipped out her blaster rifle, ruthlessly gunning them down at close range, watching the waves of flame from the Pyros spread out, expertly drowning whole areas in flames, as well as enemy squads, starting to cause panic and retreat from certain units trying to flee the mad Clones, supplemented by Plasma Projector Fire from other members of their unit, which left horrific melting wounds on rebels who were struck. Many died from the sheer agony inflicted.

Meleena waded into the thickest combat, charging into defensive nests and slaughtering them, sickened at how easily these people were willing to destroy their own civilization just for a little power.

One rebel managed to slice her rifle in half with a Vibrosword, but when he tried to do the same to her, her superhuman reflexes caught him by the neck and broke it.

Meleena's hands glowed as her Plasma Blade Organs went active, forming blades around them. Her Dovin Basal heart beat faster as enemies around her were slowed further, her blades immediately ripping into Rebel Ranks without mercy as she cut people in half, making sure to try and kill them instantly with each slash. She wasn't trying to draw out suffering. She was a professional. She always tried to give quick deaths...

The Pyros were starting to create real chaos, cackling insanely as more and more rebel scum burned before them, their flames dousing squads in screaming madness, or blowing apart the enemy at close range. Any that actually managed to get close was torn apart AND burned alive by their Therm-Axs. They were the living embodiment of what Paarthurnax would refer to as Fus Feim Yol , screaming, burning rebels flaying about. Even a Sith Warrior or Two bought it as they rampaged, trying to draw as much enemy fire onto them and away from alliance forces, the same way Meleena was trying to do the same during her own rampage into the enemy ranks.

Sometimes, a Berzerker strategy is preferable to more complicated approaches. Meleena didn't like the approach, but her house believed in preserving the Alliance, even a relatively minor skirmish was to be met with as much force as could be afforded without drawing too much scrutiny...

Phaelissia (For dueling)

Corazona von Ascania

Marcel von Ascania

Dominick von Ascania

Shan

Razh Sho

Darth Nefaron

Aris Noble

Makko Vyres

Jalen Kai'el

 

[Nodak]

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

---

Nevermourne's head fell, deflected only by the barest of margins. Its impact threw earth into the air, it created a small crater where it struck. A Crater that could have been Razh Sho but then that would have been to easy.

The Jedi moved to bring himself inside again but the Monster moved too. A stationary target was often the easiest to fall, Nodak was clearly not as quick as Razh Sho but he was not stationary nor did he wait for the Jedi to come to him. While Razh Sho came to him the Monster circled to the outside, steps that were long to a normal man but regular to him.

He wanted to offset himself to the left of Rahz Sho, keeping the Jedi to that side of him in doing so.

Pulling with his right arm the tether that bound the head of the morning star to its haft came to life, tightening and ripping it from the mud amidst the heavy rain that pellet the two of them. The Momentum that Nodak pulled with ripped Nevermourne's head up and flung it backwards, arcing it out to his right. Whirling it around, back behind himself and over his shoulders when the head came around and over his left it would have descended into another heavy blow.

Nevermourne promised destruction if it struck cleanly. If it were to clip someone it would still whisper their demsie to them. As it were it would have come crashing downwards and if it met nothing at all it still would have torn a path between the two of them as momentum brought it back out to the right of Nodak...

"Hmph."

...a sound, not of frustration but disdain...

"Does it now?"

...the shield he held was still angled to the left, slack but ready to respond. He felt no need to commit it early so it remained at the ready.

In the background, even above the din of the rain and the beginnings of their clash he could hear the charge. Hundreds, thousands of men charged as the Rebels committed to the attack in earnest. It was good that it rained so hard, there met yet be enough water to wash away all the blood yet to be spilled.

 

[Razh Sho]

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

The mace's head ripped free of the earth with a sound like the world cracking open. Even through the hiss of downpour and distant cries of war, Razh could hear the suck of wet soil torn from the crater — a guttural, earthy gasp that mirrored the beast who wielded it.

Razh moved as Nodak did, circling — a mirror orbiting a collapsing star. The colossus stepped left, and so Razh shifted his stance right, not to match, but to cut the angle, keeping himself on the shoulder where the shield had not yet been committed.

He watched it all — not just the weapon, but the intention behind it.

When the head of Nevermourne rose, flung back into the air on a tether of plasma, Razh saw not a blow — but a story being written in real time. The arc wasn't mindless. It was a page-turn. A forceful redirection to lure or crush. A baited descent.

And so Razh did not meet it.

He vanished beneath it.

As the mace howled overhead — slicing air with a scream of plasma and gravity — Razh dropped low into a one-knee pivot, body flowing under the strike in a blur of soaked robes and blue light. The ground shuddered as the head passed, close enough to sear heat across his cheek and leave the scent of ionized air in its wake.

He didn't rise immediately.

Instead, from the crouch, he stabbed upward — a single, sharp thrust from below the arc of the monster's blow. Not for flesh. Not for death.

For the joint.

The gap just above the left knee — where even the best armor must bend — was exposed for a breath between shifts.

His blade reached for it, not to sever, but to teach.

Makashi did not aim to overwhelm. It sought fracture points. It asked questions — with edge and silence alike.

Razh rose with the strike, using the follow-through to carry himself out of the blow's range, his saber retracting in a tight circle before coming back to guard.

His voice came low, through breath and steam:

"The blade asks. It does not presume."

He glanced once to the horizon, where the lines had finally broken. The charge began — Rebel numbers flooding forward like a tidal pull in the Force.

Razh did not look afraid.

He looked... anchored.

His saber leveled forward now, feet shifting into a narrow duelist's stance.

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Allies: Darth Nefaron ; Rebel Forces, Sith Forces
Target: Eurydice
Enemies: Royal Army, Galactic Alliance, Jedi Forces
​

Veradun used to hate the rain - hated its cold dampness that would soak through clothes and cloak and made him miserable. But now he hardly noticed it; he hardly noticed a lot of things besides the cold, seething darkness that pulsed through him these days.

“You have been well trained, my Apprentice. With our victory today, our ascension is all but guaranteed.”

His Master’s voice slid through the drone of the downpour and into his ears as he knelt in silence, a voice that made nearly all who served the Corpse Lord shudder in revulsion and fear. But for the young Nagai, it was a voice he had grown accustomed to. Welcomed, even. So long as he heard his Master’s voice - then he knew he had the Dark Lord’s favor, and would remain alive. That was all that mattered in the end. Staying alive long enough to rip that monster limb from limb.

In time. In time.

“Once you have your target, rendezvous with me in the capital. I must ensure our King is in position for the final act.”

“Yes, Master. Your will be done.” Veradun said in a voice that lacked emotion, rising to his feet as thunder rolled overhead and his cruel Dark Lord’s laughter echoed across the drenched landscape.

Indeed, Veradun had been training for this moment - and now that it was upon him, he felt the weight of his mission bear down upon his shoulders. It sounded simple enough, but he was smart enough to know that this would be a challenge, a test of what skills he had learned thus far. He had to sneak into the royal palace of Ukatis, which was crawling with enemies, and locate a Seer to take back to his Master. Failure to do so, meant to court the Dark Lord’s wrath - something he wished to avoid at all costs.

Under most circumstances, the Apprentice might have worn his blackened armor - but he had a different plan in mind for this. It would require him to be a lone wolf - but this was how he preferred to operate anyway. Without delay, the Nagai slipped into the rain curtains and began to make his way towards the capital, waiting for the right moment which he knew was coming.

Beyond, many had gathered for some sort of festival - making it the perfect situation to stage a rebellion and sew chaos. It was this chaos that Veradun was counting on to aid him in his task for his Master. He knew slipping into the Palace grounds right now would be near impossible, especially with the presence of so many Jedi; but soon, very soon, he would have his chance.

Clang.

The first toll of the bell reached the boy’s ears, and he felt his heart surge within his chest as excitement lit a cold fire under his skin.

Clang.

Pale eyes shifted around as he withdrew his Force signature, attempting to make his presence all but unnoticed for what was to come next.

Clang.

That was the signal for the rebel forces - but Veradun continued to wait. Moments later, he heard and felt the explosion and had to suppress a dark smirk as screams of fear and panic erupted, the energy pouring into the Force - a tool for any darksider to call upon. The sound was like music to the Sith Apprentice’s ears, and pale eyes beheld groups of people and palace servants moving around in a hectic dash for safety.

Seizing his moment, the boy used the cover of the chaos and panicked people to locate a target that would aid him in his infiltration of the palace grounds. Moving with silent swiftness, Veradun stepped up to a young man who appeared to be wearing some sort of Palace uniform and wrapped his hand over the young man’s mouth before locking him into a chokehold as he pulled his prey into a shadowed and rain drenched doorway in an alleyway - and with a quick twist, the sensation of bones cracking could be felt. The body went limp in Veradun’s arms and he made haste to donned the dead man’s clothes - a disguise to help him slip further into the Palace grounds, or so he hoped.

Taking a breath, Veradun began to make his way through the various streets of the capital, pale eyes roving as he kept an eye open for any potential ways into the palace proper. Eventually, he spied something most peculiar - a small group of people who were also wearing what appeared to be the Palace uniform, slipping past a grate that led under the surface. Seizing his chance, Veradun moved swiftly to slip into the ranks of those that were dipping into what turned out to be a hidden tunnel system, though to what its extent was, he wasn’t sure. That question of his was soon answered however as his ears picked up the whispers of a couple individuals ahead of him who were also making their way through the dark and dank tunnel.

“...this should lead us back inside the palace. We will be safer there from whatever is going on out there…”

“I’ve never been in here before…I didn’t even know this existed! Where do you think this will take us?”

“Not sure…catacombs, maybe somewhere else. I just heard rumors that there were secret passageways, seems the rumors were right…”

In the dim shadows of the tunnels, Veradun smiled to himself. It seemed that the darkside had smiled down upon him and granted him a measure of favor, for now it appeared he would slip into the Palace proper and no one would suspect him to be one of the enemy.

Now he just needed to locate one of these Seers his Master had mentioned to him, his target for his mission...

 

[Lirka Ka]

​

Monotony had weighed on Lirka Ka for a long, long time. Fight, kill, fight, kill, maim, destroy, subjugate. It was a song and dance she had “lived” for over a century - the hand that compelled her to violence changed, but the monotony of it all remained. She didn’t mind it much anymore, after the billions crushed underfoot on dearly departed Moridinae killing had become a nonissue.

Lirka Ka was a monster, she was Carnifex’s brutal cudgel - his lash. Just another monster in the vast Kainite menagerie with delusions of grandeur to compel her. Primordial Dark demanded tests for the worth of all living things, and Lirka Ka would provide them with blade in hand.

Of course, it was difficult to test things when she couldn’t actually hit. Eyes watched the form of Jonyna Si easily slide past her blow and move past her. Lirka had no burst of flame, but she had honed mechanisms on her side. Quickly turning on those metal bricks she called feet, in perhaps some semblance of fear as the ring of an ion blaster rang out through the rancor. Damnable trinket, that was. Hastily her blade raised to catch against the bolt before it hampered her suit’s systems - a whine hummed through the air as the ion energy coursed through her blade and the roaring thing stumbled into silence. For now, overloaded.

Letting out a snarl of pure frustration, Lirka finished her twirl. Stamping her foot back to mud, letting her words hum out in contrast to the Cathar’s singing: for they held the raw malice that only a Sith’s mook could.

“It’ll just make it all the sweeter when I wring my hands around your throat, you wretched little thing.”

Letting her free hand shoot to her hip, Lirka’s electro-whip snapped to her hand. The thing crackling to life as she lashed out to try and entangle the Jedi’s weapons - Lirka knew she’d need some sort of distraction if she was going to get a proper fist in that damnable cat’s mug.

 

[Eurydice]

ROYAL PALACE

Allies | King Horace | Royal Army | Galactic Alliance
Enemies | Veradun Sharr | Ukatian Rebels | Sith​

As the frantic noblewoman plead with the guards to let her pass, Indis reached out and pinched Eurydice's arm. The girl startled, head whipping around to meet her companion's scowling face.

"Come on," Indis urged, already irked that she'd somehow gotten punished along with the other initiate. "Stop staring. The sooner we retrieve the oil, the sooner the ritual can begin."

Eurydice's gaze lingered on the woman as she frantically gestured with her hands. She quickly fell into step beside Indis as the other Seer dragged her along.

"Who is she?"

Indis scowled, but glanced behind them for a few long seconds. Though they were mystics, trained in divination, they were encouraged to familiarize themselves with the nobility of Ukatis and their individual qualities. "That's Luciana von Ascania."

"Ascania?" Eurydice's eyes narrowed as the pair reached the end of the hall and began to descend the long, winding steps that would take them into the catacombs. "The Princess' maiden house? That is her mother? What is she doing here?"

"She's probably here for the King's banquet," Indis replied. "Or she didn't get invited and showed up just to throw a fit." The Seer smirked, the edges of her tone lifting in faint mockery.

"She did seem upset," Eurydice acknowledged. The halls they walked had been well lit, but as they descended into the underbelly of the palace, darkness threatened to swallow them. Only a few torches, spaced too far apart, offered the dimmest of lighting. Eurydice took one from its sconce and held it out in front of them. At the very least, they could see their steps. "But not in the way one would be over being excluded from a party."

No, she seemed terrified. Desperate. If she'd been the recipient of social backlash, then surely Madam von Ascania would've been angry rather than scared?

Indis snorted. "You know how it is with those noble-types. They act like toddlers when they're just the slightest bit inconvenienced."

The west end of the catacombs beneath the palace housed a dungeon, where even the Princess herself had been held for several days after the mysterious death of her husband. The east end was divided into many rooms; some large, some smaller, but all mainly used for storage. The layout was a maze, full o double-backs and dead ends. The initiates would enter one of the larger storage rooms and begin searching for the jug of ritualistic oil.

As they searched, Eurydice pondered the growing sense of foreboding that welled in the pit of her stomach. Above them, the ceiling briefly trembled. A handful of small stones clattered to the floor. Two sets of eyes snapped up as a large muffled thud shook the stone supports beside them.

---

"His Majesty is hosting a banquet. If you wish to join, then present your invitation and escort."

Luciana's lips curled inward. Any fire that lived within her had been snuffed out long ago, but she could no longer remain idle and watch her husband stir rebellion at the behest of a Sith Lord. It had been ages since she'd raised her voice, not even as she begged her husband to reconsider his plans.

Even though the whispers of the dark had begun to seep from her husband and into her, Luciana had not been fooled. Though the rebellion was borne of genuine discontent, to consort with Sith would surely mark them as traitors to the Alliance. If not for the protection of Ukatis, then she was here for her family. For her children.

Even the ones who'd left.

"I haven't my invitation because my husband burned it. And I haven't my escort because he intends to lay waste to this very city, this very palace!"

Luciana steadied herself, straightening her back and clasping her fingers together. A woman's genuine desperation could appear hysterical. She needed to appear level. As level as one could when there was an assassination plot to remove the king and upend Ukatis.

"Please. I-I ask you once again, let me through."

 

[Nodak]

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

---

To soon.

The Morning Star passed overhead as the Jedi ducked beneath the arc of its blow. Landing somewhere to the right of him the head of Nevermourne would have left another crafter as it collided with the wet earth. Mud and dirt was thrown upright again and dispersed across the wretched earth around them.

This was why Nodak had held his shield in reserve though, why he hadn't committed it to total defense to that point.

He'd been waiting to see what Razh Sho would do.

The Jedi ducked udner the blow, then a moment later he struck. Nodak's forearm tightened, unseen behind the enormous cover of the shield. It swept forward, originally slack and angled to the left Nodak brought around to the fore so that it covered him giving Razh his first real look at it. It was as tall as the average man and could cover Nodak from the shoulder to below the knee.

Swept to the fore the shield's inner most rim would deflect the lightsaber wide in a shower of sparks as the alchemized quadranium reacted to the plasma blade.

Then Nodak angled his shield backwards, sweeping it upwards so that he could use its lower half and size to his advantage. Down on a knee it might have only been able to catch Sho across the face but rising, moving backwards from his previous attack the shield would have literally become a scoop. It meant to collide with the Jedi around the midsection now and rip him off his feet before hurling him backwards, the weight of the shield alone meant it would feel like taking a sledgehammer to the chest.

Nodak had taken a step forward in the process, angling his left side forward into a lead.

The crimson tether binding the head and haft of Nevermourne withdrew, reattaching the head to recreate the Mace from the Morning Star which Nodak let hover to the right in a powerful grip while he muttered out through crackled comms...

"Tell your blade it should ask better questions then."

...the shield would lower, given time and angle itself slack and to the left of the Monster again who saw no reason not to conserve energy. He would begin a lumbering movement towards Razh, Nevermourne poised to splinter bone and rupture organs.

 

[Razh Sho]

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

The shield rose, and Razh Sho felt its intent before its weight — a hammerhead designed not to repel, but to ruin. He stepped into the rising arc — body rotating with a duelist's grace, robes slicing through the rain like torn silk. His left hand caught the rim just as it collided — breath stole from his lungs, but the impact became momentum.

He let it lift him, and then, with a pivot of spine and will, vaulted over the edge in a twisting arc. He landed in the muck — one knee, cloak sodden, ribs screaming — but he was not broken. He was learning.

"Then it was the answer that lacked discipline."

He stood slowly. Rain sluiced down his brow. His curved saber still hissed in hand, burning a line of purpose against the storm. Nodak came again. The mace reformed — Nevermourne reborn in the monster's grip — and the titan advanced, each step a thunderclap of living war. But Razh did not yield.

"You think I came to conquer you. But I came to see."

Then he struck. His saber snapped low — not for the chest, not for the neck, but for the leading arm. While Nodak stepped forward with the mace poised high, Razh dove inside the shield's radius — the blind spot between weapon and guard. His blade lanced forward in a flicker of controlled light, aiming for the inner bicep and elbow joint, a Makashi specialist's target: sever the strength, don't crush it.

Before the shield could reposition, Razh spun to Nodak's flank, saber tip dragging through the space between them with surgical intent — testing armor, angles, endurance. He never aimed to drop the giant in one blow. He aimed to carve him down one answer at a time.

"To see if there's still a being beneath that armor…"

Another step — another thrust, this time a shallow cut toward the rear knee seam, where even Juggernauts must bend.

"…or only the weapon he became."

As Nodak turned to answer, Razh twisted away — cloak flaring, saber raised again. Ready. This was not a fight of domination. It was a conversation in cuts — and Razh Sho had just asked his first real question.

---

 

[Nodak]

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

---

Nevermourne swung. The Mace, poised as it was would meet Razh Sho 's blue blade. As the Jedi thrust for a fleshy spot on his forearm, around the bend in the elbow where a gap in the armor existed Nodak swept his weapon ahead of his from the right to the left.

Arcs of crackling energy would fill the air giving birth to sparks that sprung to life around the two of them and showered the wet earth. The Mace had swept across to make contact with the inside of the lightsaber and knock it wide of its target. Nodak's technique wasn't particularly dazzling, it was simplistic in many ways but a Juggernaut need not rely on the sophistication of technique so much as its effectiveness.

It was, perhaps a mistake for the Jedi to attempt to spin around the Monster to get to his flank for another attack.

He had attacked then followed through with what some might consider acrobatics. Nodak was incapable of these movements. He was simply to large and didn't have the inherent agility to make such grand displays.

With his shield out of position Nodak watched as Razh began to spin around him. The Jedi had been at his fore, close enough to strike which meant that he would need to spin around the Monster completely, arcing from his front all the way around his side to his read. Nodak's head turned to keep pace with Razh and -----

---he would lift his leg, cocking it backwards before sweeping it forward, out to his side and ahead as Razh attempted to round him.

Against a man, acrobatics might be effective. They had similar range of movement, they were of similar size and lifting his leg to high would likely put him off balance. Nodak had no such reservations.

To raise his foot and drive it out to the side and upwards at pelvic height with the Jedi was almost as natural as taking a step and it certainly had the power to hurl him backwards once again.

He knew it wasn't in his best interests to allow the Jedi behind him...

"Your rhetoric begins to bore me, Jedi."

...the rotary cannon opened up again, not at Razh though. As its barrels spewed dragonfire and firepower they would all go over the head of Razh, targeting further back towards the lines of the Royal Army. It was the simply pleasures that the Monster enjoyed, like chewing up men and rendering them to shredded meat and bone from a distance.

 

[Razh Sho]

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

The mace swept in — low and brutal, its path not elegant, but inevitable. His blade met the flanged head on its inner edge, and for a fraction of a second, blue and red collided—not in clarity, but chaos. Arcs exploded, wild and raw — sparks bursting into steam as they scattered across soaked ground. The weapon wasn't just a tool of war; it was an avalanche given form, and Razh felt the impact rattle through the bones of his wrist and elbow.

His strike had been measured — surgical — aimed for the vulnerable crook of the monster's arm. But Nodak's simplicity had answered complexity, and the blade was knocked wide, twisting against Razh's grip. The hit didn't disarm him, but it forced him to adapt — to yield again to survive.

Makashi did not resist. It flowed. He twisted with the deflection, letting it carry him into motion — feet turning, saber recoiling in a reverse arc as he pivoted for the flank. It was the opening he'd sought—but Nodak was waiting. The foot came — not like a man striking in anger, but like a mountain sliding sideways.

Razh saw the leg rise in peripheral — and then it was already there, a sweeping blow at pelvic height, too wide, too fast, too forceful for any thought of stopping. He dropped. Razh threw himself into a low half-roll, knees angled under his weight as the kick screamed overhead, close enough to feel the air rupture in its wake. A lesser warrior would've been crushed — even now, pain bloomed across his side where the shockwave struck his ribs.

He landed in a crouch again, breath tight, saber high in guard.

"Your rhetoric begins to bore me, Jedi."

The monster wasn't done. The rotary cannon spun back to life — but not at him. No, Razh felt its vibration shift, heard its distant scream arcing high overhead, toward the rear lines. And he understood. Nodak was no mindless brute. He chose when to maim, and when to massacre. A distraction. A cruelty. A tactic.

Razh's gaze remained fixed on him, though he could feel the Force ripple behind — the deaths of men, cut down by unseen flame. Not rage. Not despair. Just... presence. He inhaled and then countered. Rising from the crouch, Razh closed the distance once more. But this time, he came in not as a blade — but as wind.

He spun inside the left flank, opposite the cannon's recoil stance, saber snapping forward in a mid-thrust feint, only to redirect with a tight upward flick toward the underside of the elbow again, keeping low—a probe, not a kill. Then — momentum shifting — he brought his saber down in a slashing arc at the hip, aiming for the seam where armor gave to belt, the place where even monsters must flex.

He wasn't seeking death.

He was mapping the space where power stops… and pain begins.

"Boredom," Razh said through gritted teeth, "is the domain of men who believe the fight is already won."

He circled again. Cannonfire painted the field behind them in red ruin, but the Master moved without flinching. His cloak dragged mud and blood alike — and still, his blade remained aloft.

"I'm not here to impress you, Nodak."

 

[Jalen Kai'el]

Ukatis
Allies: Corazona von Ascania , Makko Vyres , Aris Noble , Others...
Enemies: Darth Nefaron , Marcel von Ascania
???: Dominick von Ascania

Delta-7, Lothal Jedi Temple​

Finally, atop a hill overlooking the onslaught, was her father. Beside him, her brother.

Corazona's heart fluttered. Makko would feel her resolve shiver through their bond, but maelstrom of conflict within her was steadied by the presence of her allies - many of whom she counted as friends. Jalen shielded her.

Jalen felt the stirring of unrest in Cora, allowing his Force Sight to expand his vision across the battlefield. Two auras alike to her own... family. One was older, the accursed father no doubt. The other?

It was likely a sibling.

"Draw on me for strength," Jalen spoke, this time with his true voice. "I give it freely... I'll stay right here. You are capable enough to end this."

He opened himself up in the Force, allowing his presence to be a focus if Cora so chose. He understood the gravity of standing against one's family well enough. This was no easy task. As the road up, Jalen felt the numbers around them swell. More rebels than he could have expected. Fighting for your home was always at the forefront of someone's mind, certainly, but these people were also being led astray. The Sith would be just as tyrannical as the king they despised, who at least could be reigned in by the Alliance. They were unwittingly shooting themselves in the knee.

Jalen stood up atop the back of his horse. His balance was uncanny, as though something higher were guiding his actions. The young man was flowing with telekinetic energy in a way he had not in a very long time. All of that strength had been pent up and was eager to be released.

He had always been a ticking time bomb.

The knight raised one hand before he opened his mouth, his voice booming out in a wave around him. His words rippled out and took control of the wind, commanding the weak willed:

"BE QUIET."

The radius was not overwhelming, but a good number of soldiers surrounding the Jedi as they moved on the patriarch of house Ascania froze in place... then began to drop. They had been cast into a slumber. Force Induced Sleep. Jalen drifted back down into the saddle, letting out a heavy breath. He was going to need to work himself back up to doing something like that again. His power was difficult to control, like wrestling a bull.

"I'll be right behind you," Jalen called out to Makko and Cora.

He only hoped that, if it came down to it, he was not the one who had to make a difficult decision.

 

[Nodak]

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

---

He needn't focus on the Rotary Cannon, it fired on the Royal Army in the distance splitting men and rendering their insides a fine pink mist while the Monster focused on the Jedi.

Again Razh Sho came at him, this time in a tight spin inside of the left flank. Turning into his opponent, unencumbered by the shields earlier offset Nodak angled it inwards. It would turn the shield completely over his left side, letting him tuck his elbow over his pectoral and ribs so that the shield sucked tightly against him.

The Lightsaber would spark off the face of the shield but momentum shifted, the blue plasma of the Jedi's blade arced around and caught Nodak in a soft spot. Only a layer of armorweave protected the Monster there and amidst a crackling of sparks he felt a flash of pain that caused him to swing round completely and jerk away. Nevermourne swung wild in a forwards arc to create a zone of threat beneath the two of them.

"-----"

....there was a guttural sound from beneath the helm that Nodak wore, a cross between a growl and a twisted sort of moan. Pain was not unknown to him. It could have an adverse effect though, on one hand it might serve as a source of frustration but on the other it could become a source of focus.

Razh was circling again, Nodak had enough.

Galvanized by the force his legs tensed, briefly and then he exploded upwards. With the force flowing through his limbs he propelled himself high into the air, higher than anything should be capable of leaping. Up above the battlefield he would unleash a bestial roar, a representation of the battle lust he felt...

"WAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!"

...and then, naturally according to the laws of physics he would begin to descend. As he did Nevermourne would transform from Mace to Morning Star again, the telltale sign being the crimson plasma energy that tethered the two pieces together. The Morning Star descended in a heavy blow ahead of Nodak and when it met the earth their was a horrible explosion.

The Repulsor Field generator encased inside the head of the weapon would activate, creating a large radius explosion that would rip up the ground several meters around its epicenter in every direction as well as upwards and downwards. It could throw bodies as though they were nonexistent, it could overturn vehicles and it would create a crater in the soft earth as though it had been bombarded by heavy artillery fire.

As for the rest, the Rotary Cannon would adjust and fire downwards as well to split the earth and draw the attention of the Jedi.

Then Nodak would land, down on one knee in the crater that the explosion had left behind before slowly righting himself and looking for Razh Sho...

 

[Lyssa Clauda]

Aris Noble Phoebe Winsloe Serina Calis

Finally.

Finally, Lyssa felt like herself again. No, she felt better - she felt like the person she was always born to be, the dark knight she was always destined to become. A soldier, a weapon, a curse unleashed upon on the loathed Jedi and alliance scum before her. Each cry of pain from their lips reverberated in her ears like the drums of war, near whipping her into a mad frenzy of blood lust and crazed smiles.

It was so comfortingly familiar, this melody of war and chaos. It reminded the cyborg of her time on Kalee, leading armies of warriors to victory. Only now, instead of a Karabbac she rode a horse, and wielded a staff over a saber. But she would be damned if she didn't win again today.

Her master was not with her. She was to rule the skies upon a steed she did not deign to discuss with Lyssa. It didn't matter. Whatever she rode into battle, it was Lyssa's mission to soak the ground wet with the blood of alliance soldiers so that her master might look down upon her with approval. The mirialan's grin widened, satisfaction flowing through her as she ruthlessly slaughtered another member of the enemy's infantry.

But it wasn't enough.

As the rains soaked through her braided hair and slipped off her metal legs, Lyssa hunted for a Jedi. A Jedi like the one that had taken her legs from her, taken her mother from her, taken everything from her. She gritted her teeth and scanned the horizon until...there!...she saw him.

A blonde blur carved through the ranks of the rebel soldiers nearby, making a path for the other disgustingly bright and glowing Jedi behind him. Lyssa narrowed her eyes as she took stock of the blur. Just a boy, it seemed, though immensely powerful - and well taught.

"Hold the line!" The Mirialan spurred her horse forward, raising her staff to encourage the rebels around her. "Do not let them reach the Viscount! We must prevail!"

Many of them cheered, seemingly inspired to fight harder and even more passionately for their cause. They had no idea she wasn't one of them. She didn't care whether they suffered or not, she barely knew who the viscount was herself! And she honestly couldn't care less whether or not they won this war.

All she cared about right now was finding and murdering her second Jedi.

Leaning into her horse, Lyssa spurred it on with a metal kick to the ribs till the black creature reached a gallop, making a beeline for the blonde. As she rode, the dark Jedi ignited the spluttering red blade of her staff, positioning it to be her lance as she charged the Jedi, the very picture of a dark, twisted knight of old.

 

[Lord Meverell]

Eurydice​

"I haven't my invitation because my husband burned it. And I haven't my escort because he intends to lay waste to this very city, this very palace!"

As Luciana's voice grew increasingly shrill, a figure emerged from behind the guard. Lord Meverell strode forward, dressed in official black, and peered at the face of the hysterical woman who had shown up on the Palace's doorstep. "Lady Luciana?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

After his conversation with the king, the chief minister had excused himself from the party. Between His Majesty's strange comments and the reports flooding his datapad of battles and enemy forces breaching the capital, he needed some fresh air. Of course, even taking a break brought him no peace, as Luciana's pleas soon reached his ears. He recognized her because it was his job to know everyone and everything that went on in his master's kingdom. Especially if it involved the nobility, whose mercurial moods and personal affairs could alter the course of history.

"My lady, I ask that you please calm yourself," he said, taking another step closer to Luciana. He could be a gentle, kindly man when the need arose, but he sensed that was not what she needed. Instead he showed her the statesman, a bureaucrat with a shrewd and pragmatic bearing. Though he was not as lofty as the king, he was in control—and most importantly, he would listen to what she had to say. "Speak plainly. Where is your husband, and what exactly is he doing?"

 

[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

A second set of explosions thundered as the Jedi Battlemaster arrived on the scene.

From the garage, invisible lances of ultra-pressurized air tore through the farming vehicles inside. The shockwaves struck like thunderclaps—a staccato roar of splintering metal as farming rigs disintegrated. Engine blocks exploded, vaporizing into shrapnel storms. Hydraulic fluid and fuel geysered from gutted chassis, only to ignite moments later in searing, actinic flares that painted the smoke in fleeting silhouettes.

After several moments, Ellissanthia emerged from the garage. Hips swaying with predatory grace, she stepped into the firelight as explosions echoed behind her.

All the while, the farmers and mechanics, who had run out of the garage in order to investigate the burning granary, were incidentally spared from the destruction. However, they thought little of their luck as their livelihoods erupted in flames before them. A few lunged towards the blazes in an attempt to salvage anything that might be saved. However, the older, more composed among their number held them back, shouts lost amidst the heat of the inferno.

Ellissanthia stopped, her violet-hued gaze piercing through the storm as she scanned the area. The next granary was not far, but she needed to move quickly to reach it. There would be a response. In fact—

A gasp ripped from her lips.

Her fin-shaped ears twitched as the Force manifested an uncomfortable sensation jolted her awareness. It was a candle that stood radiant and jarring amidst the turbulent gloom. A pit of nausea rose in her stomach, her features twisting into a grimace as she reflexively recoiled against it.

An anathema to her nature.

And yet, Ellissanthia knew that it was now her mission now to snuff it out. To see the grotesque incandescence overshadowed enough that she could finish her work. Thus, features hardening, the Undine turned to face it.

And the radiance nearly seared her sightless.

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)