Junction They Came From The Wall | SO & HR Junction of Ord Vaug and Bassadro

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Debris stung Lorn's skin as the Goliath shattered the masonry with a single blow. He had closed the distance too recklessly, underestimating the monster's reach. Ducking low, he rolled through the spray of stone and came up into a defensive crouch, his golden blade hummed a steady warning. The beast's laughter grated on his nerves, a harsh sound that seemed to mock the very air of the temple.

The crack of an electro-whip split the silence. Lorn raised his saber to parry, but the energized cord snared his blade, wrapping around the plasma with a violent hiss. Sparks showered his arms as the two weapons locked. The Sith began to prattle about stolen knowledge and hidden secrets, her voice a distorted rasp through her helm. "You shall take nothing," Lorn countered. "This knowledge is not meant to be corrupted by the likes of you."

Physical strength had always been one of Lorn's assets, but the mechanical power behind the whip was overwhelming. A sudden, violent yank tore the lightsaber from his sweat-slicked palms. The hilt skittered across the floor, vanishing into the darkness of a far corner. He suppressed a groan of frustration. Losing his primary defense was a familiar tragedy, one he had practiced surviving many times before.

Lorn focused his mind, drawing on the Force to bridge the gap between his hands and the towering shelves behind the Sith. Ancient wooden structures groaned under the strain. With a sharp, downward pull, he brought the heavy archives crashing toward the monster. He watched the priceless tomes tumble, knowing the loss of history was a heavy price to pay for a moment of breathing room. "Leave this place!" he shouted, the command carrying the full weight of his exhaustion and resolve.

 

[Novac Lyrikal]

Darth Strosius Corazona von Ascania

it was true, they weren't invincible. everyone else was fighting. the other padawans he knew that he saw earlier, they could be fighting for their lives now. if novac left that would mean corazona would be fighting for her life by herself. it was selfish to think of running. running meant survival yes, but also possibly the death of others, deaths novac might prevent by being there. "no, im staying. im with you in this." he said with a confidence he didn't know he could muster at this moment.

the sith was more visible now, he was tall and intimidating. funny, thats how some described novac, well people who didnt know him well. but the sith before him truly was intimidating. did he have...wings? or tentacles? there was something there but novac couldn't figure what they where.

"you say you dont want the other sith getting their hands on things here yet you say its all worthless but anything about "the son". so anything else here they can take and it doesnt matter huh? could always go fight them first so they dont get it." novac didnt really know what he was saying but was trying to make as much time before they fought. it would be inevitable but any time to mentally prepare was good.

 

[Lirka Ka]

PROFANE TEMPLE

TAGS: Lorn Reingard

She had missed the Jedi, truly. All this brawling with Imperials and their nuisances had almost caused Lirka to forget how good it felt to lash out against the progenitors of the disease of peace. It was holy work - for what greater deed could be done than to lay low those that would see this Galaxy too soft and meek to withstand the clawing grasp of Primordial Darkness.

All that horrid laughter warped to a bemused mechanical purr. Jedi were so simple. So diminutive in their views of the Universe - like some sort of cosmic comedy. So uselessly floundering upon the Dark Path while they’d drag reality down with them when the time came.

“Corrupt? Nay, I shall use. Take pride in such a fact, Jedi. For your tomes and texts, all that you would seek to deny me, shall be but another stepping stone upon my Apotheosis!”

Well. Someone didn’t spend as much time as Lirka did around Sith without ending up at least a little…eccentric.

As the whip did its work, Lirka let out a snarl. A predator that sensed the advantage - she had already wasted the meat of one Jedi, she’d make sure Lorn Reingard did not suffer such a fate. Shifting her position as she prepared herself to explode into a burst of hyperviolent speed - she felt the rumbling, and creaking and cracking as the knowledge she so desperately hungered for came tumbling down atop her metal form.

That thunderous boom echoed through the halls then…silence. Yet it was short live, at first merely a faint mechanical hum underneath the newest of messes. But then, sizzling, crackling, the sound of plasma meeting ancient wood and parchment. Heat, fire. Pandemonium growing as Lirka’s short lived hazed wore off - with the spark light, the mountain of debris atop her exploded out as the exasperated monster freed herself from the Jedi’s attempt.

There was a daze to her movements, erratic and barely controlled. Energy that sought to be released, one of the lenses of her helm cracked - a single dyed eye staring out at Lorn Reingard with a ravenous hatred. Cocking her head is confusion, she had to respect the sheer audacity

“Has asking nicely ever worked, Jedi?”

She exploded to life again, surging forward all but bounding on all fours she meet her foe while flame simmered behind her: looking to tackle the Jedi with her full mechanized weight behind it - lucidity quickly faded as monstrous intent took over.

“I shall gorge myself upon every Midhiclorian in your feeble form and suck the marrow from your bones!”

​

​

 

[Warren of the Narrows]

As the doors hissed open and the fresh air met Warren's lungs he took a huge gasp, promising never to take air for granted again. His relief was short lived as Del realized she had taken them the wrong way, panic setting in with Warren. He had a feeling they had gone the wrong way, but he wasn't sure enough to say anything. None of them could have done anything more than they did, and no one was placing blame.

For a moment though, all Warren could do was stare out into the jungle beyond as the burn of smoke made its way into his nose again. The fires were spreading, and with them came the Sith who was hunting them. Daxin mentioned running into the jungles to evade the Sith, and while that was the smartest and safest idea, Warren could only hear his former Master's voice.

"Courage is not standing without fear, Warren. Courage is deciding something else matters more."

It grounded the Padawan almost immediately. Even while his chest was still heaving trying to grasp at the clean air while he could, he was already looking around for something. His eyes eventually locking onto that the blast doors they had exited through. A cargo container still hung from it, abandoned after the raid started, swaying slightly in the smoky wind coming off the jungle.

"No. We cannot run, we are Jedi." His brown eyes reflected every bit of fear he was feeling in that moment, realizing his life had been forfeit the second he accepted the Code. "We have to try to help any survivors at the evacuation site. If any of them are still alive, we have to try." His breathing steadied slightly now. The panic was still there, but it had settled deeper, turning from frantic fear into constant thought. "I have an idea."

Warren knew they only had moments before the Sith reached them and they would be forced into the jungle. If they were going to make it back to the evacuation site, they needed to slow him down again. They couldn't let him follow them to the civilians. "Daxin, you still have that ion earring, yes?" Warren had to focus intently to make sure they could understand him over the alarms and distant destruction. "I'm going to that machine." He pointed toward the crane controls. "When I turn it on, throw it." He wasn't sure any of this would work, but it was the best chance they had if they were going to reach the other landing pad alive.

After that, he turned toward Del. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but something told him she would be angry if he did. "Del, I need you to trust me." He looked her directly in the eyes, hoping she could understand that he was serious, more certain of this than anything he had been this entire time. He wanted to keep them all safe. "This will work, and we can still go back for the refugees. They aren't that far. We can still get them off world." He paused for a moment, realizing what he was asking of her. "I just need him looking at the wrong thing for a couple seconds." Timing would be everything to make sure he wasn't able to actually hurt Del, and hopefully the ion blast would short his lightsaber as well.

Warren pointed up toward the container hanging above them, the heavy metal swaying faintly overhead while the distant sound of destruction echoed from inside the Temple behind them. "We overload the crane, drop the container on him, and run." He knew it was now or never.

Tag: Del Mirah Daxin Veyr
Location: Jedi Temple, NewCov
Objective: Last Stand

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

To Novac’s decision, Cora offered a small smile and faint tilt of her head. It was a quiet gesture, but one of understanding.

She didn’t take her eyes from Strosius. The same mask, the same robes, but now with the Eldritch addition of translucent tentacles that seemed to protect from his back. They caught the crimson light, moving like muscle beneath invisible skin. An unsettling sight, but Sith never shied away from the strange accoutrements of power.

It was then when she felt it - Light was always present here, woven into the ambient fabric of New Cov’s Jedi temple - but now it pulsed with renewed energy. In the distance, the presence of Kahlil Noble , familiar and steady, washed over her.

“I suppose,” she tsked, “you’ve cloistered yourself behind the Blackwall for so long that it’s easy to forget that the rest of the galaxy does not bend to your whim.”

Light began to pour into the runes Khalil had branded into the temple's surface. A soft, gentle wash of blue - they started at the archive’s entrance, and spread throughout the building’s great stone walls. Both Novac and Strosius would feel the Light side of the Force swell as runes flared to life around them.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Cora lifted a hand toward the entrance, gaze still locked to the Sith Lord. “Might I suggest taking advantage of how distracted these lesser Sith are in the moment? Pick off a few of the unworthy, instead of chasing dead ends."

Darth Strosius Novac Lyrikal

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord fell into the rhythm of combat like an artisan, His movements precise and unburdened by doubt or uncertainty. Even after being kicked in the chest, His blade still snapped out after Lily just barely missing her by inches. He rose to stand, the bladed hem of His cloak digging into dirt and stone as He moved.

He was advancing towards Lily when He suddenly spun on His heels, lightsaber swinging through the air to cut cleanly through the bark and wood of the dislodged branch. Both halves fell away, smoldering where the blade had bisected. His momentum carried Him through, rotating completely in place with His blade slashed up just in time to meet Lily's; stopping it right before it could dig into the exposed flesh of His neck.

His superior strength wedged her blade down, sparks flying out where the two weapons met. Both Jedi and Sith stared into one another's eyes, the Light and the Dark warring fiercely through their respective champions. Then, the Dark Lord broke the saber-lock and advanced ferociously on Lily.

Like the Jedi, the Dark Lord also had studied the ways of Vaapad. But with His devious cunning, He had modified the style to suit His own twisted ends. Rather than drawing on the darkness of His adversary, the Dark Lord's Vaapad drew upon the darkness within Himself. That infinite wellspring of shadow became the fuel for a superconductive loop that would only spin faster and faster the longer the fight dragged on. Even now, Lily would feel the Dark Lord's attacks striking faster, hitting harder, and with incrementally adaptive precision.

Even though Carnifex spoke not a word since their fight truly began, Lily would sense the amusement and enjoyment lurking behind the fiery hate burning in His eyes. He was taking great pleasure in this duel, immersing Himself in the thrill of personal combat. He was also using the Dark Side of the Force to achieve acrobatic feats that He'd normally be incapable of achieving, spinning and flipping through the air to deliver highly destructive blows that broke apart the ground and sent debris flying from sheer force alone.

Lily Decoria | Kito | Reina Daival ​

 

[Del Mirah]

Tags: Daxin Veyr | Warren of the Narrows

Anxiety locked Del's joints, her fingers twisting into a frantic, tangled mess against her chest.

Daxin's brave posturing about buying them time barely registered through the roar of her own failure. Her pristine academic record and flawlessly memorized maps meant nothing now. She had made a mistake, a catastrophic error, and the realization crushed her capacity to think. For someone who prided herself on order and competence, freezing under pressure was the ultimate humiliation, and it was happening while a monster hunted them.

Warren stepped in front of her, his voice a steady drone as he outlined a desperate plan involving crane controls and cargo containers. The words washed over her without sticking. Her eyes were fixed on the reinforced door behind him. The metal was already groaning, warping inward as the Dowutin began to tear his way through the barrier. All those hours spent studying ancient texts, all the lectures she had perfectly cataloged, felt utterly useless. One wrong turn had canceled out her entire future.

The door gave way with a sickening screech of tearing metal. Framed by the smoke and flashing emergency lights of the temple interior, the massive Sith stepped onto the landing pad, his crimson blade sizzling in the humid night air.

Del remained rooted to the durasteel deck, her throat too tight to even scream. Terror had completely overridden her intellect, leaving her wide-eyed and paralyzed as the shadow of the giant fell across the three Padawans. She closed her eyes and prepared for the end.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Oh Shiraya, please don't, Lorn thought, staring at the incoming nightmare.

The Goliath slammed into him before he could dodge, the sheer mechanical mass knocking the air completely from his lungs. They crashed into the stone wall behind him with a deafening impact. The strike rattled the room, dislodging a burning torch from its wall sconce and sending it tumbling to the floor. Pain flared through Lorn's spine as his body dented the masonry, and he crumbled forward onto the stone floor, gasping for breath.

Flame met parchment with a sudden, aggressive hiss where the torch had landed. The fire spread rapidly across the fallen archives, thick smoke blooming and swallowing the room. Lorn looked up through watering eyes at the expanding blaze. A tragic, permanent loss of history was unfolding right before him, but survival demanded his focus. He could not defeat this monster unarmed.

Scrambling backward on his hands and knees, Lorn pulled down another row of shelves with the Force, creating a fiery barrier of debris between them. The heat intensified, the smoke growing thick enough to choke. If he couldn't protect the sanctuary's secrets, he would make sure they burned to ash rather than feed this Sith's madness.

Struggling back to his feet, Lorn faced the cracked lens of the monster through the haze. He extended both hands, focusing every ounce of his remaining strength into a precise telekinetic grip around the Goliath's mechanical leg. He channeled the Force to crush the armor plates and compress the internal servos, aiming to render the suit inoperable. If he could trap the beast here, it would burn with the very knowledge it sought to plunder.

 

[Lily Decoria]

​

Objective: 1
Location: New Cov
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Tags: Darth Carnifex | Kito | Reina Daival

While Lily knew Carnifex was an abhorrent Sith and she had seen the awful things he had done personally. The skills he displayed with his blade were something that she had to respect and admire, there was a level of skill displayed by the Sith Lord that she knew almost no other could match. However, with each strike, with each conflict that they engaged in. Lily understood things more. She saw the way that he had to rely on his supposed infinite loop of Dark Side energy to maintain the fighting skills that she was engaging with. Seeing the Force powering his abilities in a similar way that her own connection to the Force powered her own.

Lily did not keep the battle of Vaapads going long, instead she shifted to Makashi. Utilising both the style of her Lightsaber and the duelling mastery that the Form allowed to parry and counter the oncoming attacks from Carnifex. The effortless adaptation and shifting in forms demonstrated that Lily was quickly becoming the Battle Master that her title stated she was. There was no weakness in the way that she moved, there was no alienation or unfamiliarity. Lily knew what she needed to do and moved with exacting measures. Predicting the strikes, sensing the opportunities and moving in ways. The warrior drive within Lily burned furiously in her eyes. Her silver eyes were shifting, watching everything as she continued to block, parry and counter. Letting Carnifex to expend his energy in aggression.

While Carnifex was seemingly enjoying the fight, taking pleasure in the situation. There was no joy in Lily's eyes, instead there were calculations, assessments and she was beginning to understand things more. While he was getting faster and utilising harder strikes. Lily was saving her momentum and energies. Conservative in combat through her skills in Makashi. It was not perfect, not yet, but Lily was beginning to develop the foundations of understanding how she needed to be fighting an enemy like Carnifex. How to move and understanding what ways she could strike at Carnifex and more aggressive Sith warriors like him. Seeing the ways that he used his strength to try and overwhelm, how he tries to overpower her. Lily was learning and saving the information.

Taking steps to grow and develop more threatening techniques.

Matching the acrobatic strikes, Lily utilised Ataru and bounced off the trees that surrounded them. Moving around with speed and fury. Her strikes were fast and never coming from the same direction nor was she targeting major parts of the body. Lily was selecting regions of the body to weaken and slow Carnifex down. While she knew that his body was not normal and that he might not slow down much, the idea was to see how much effect she could have being an annoying wasp. Observe any errors or stumbles in the way that Carnifex moved. There was still a mountain of experience and skill between herself and the Sith Lord but Lily was seeing something that she hadn't before.

A way to traverse that mountain and overcome it.

Especially since the Solari and Shiraya's Embrace crystals in her Lightsaber allowed Lily to feel even more boosted than normal when facing such impossible darkness.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Foe: Cali Ziiva​

The red blades clashed against hers of blue light, pressure perfect rather than brute force, yet merciless. Each blow sent a jagged pulse up bone and sinew. Vibrations whispered through Kasir's guard; not the slightest shred of murderous intent lurked within her swings. A strange opponent, speaking an even stranger dialect of being.

Dancing across the shattered pavement, he etched invisible triangles with heel to ball pivots, determined to never cross his feet. Controlled breaths barely rasped between clenched teeth, even as the furious exchanges threatened to blur reality.

Her optimism was a poison, a foreign language that twisted like a parasite in his mind. Part him wondered if mockery was hiding everything spoken; admitting that would have felt worse. Hope, if it had a scent, it would be that of the Pink One.

Utterly nauseating.

Long ago, the man he had been was butchered and burned. Hollowed and discarded, his psyche a graveyard where fragments capable of feeling were buried beneath ash. Fragments that might have known how to handle softness, chatter, or whatever this was. No training ever demanded parsing banter or benevolence; only stalking, killing, and vanishing into the void like a nightmare guided his hand.

She slipped away unscathed, perhaps by Ashla's fickle mercy; pursuit never came. Another rotation spun both ends of the saberstaff through his palms, drawing a perfect circle. "You wield that tongue more recklessly than your saber. Even the very air you breathe will grow weary."

A glance cast over a shoulder toward the half collapsed corner store revealed a purgatory of sweat, sugar, and panic. Civilians huddled behind toppled shelves, some bleeding, some praying. Witnesses to despair incarnate. Their fear bled into the Force like iron chains, dragging it deeper into darkness.

A slow nod became a silent invitation, followed by a single step backward.

"Fire purifies," he murmured, cold as the grave he wished to bury her in.

Jedi held the mantle of protectors, did they not? Darkness swallowed his silhouette as he slipped into the wreckage. The instant his shadow crossed the threshold, tortured screams erupted. Invisible telepathic tendrils, slick and hungry, prowled toward her, daring to brush the edges of her mind like icy claws from the abyss. If possible, they would threaten to tear down the fragile walls of her reasoning, where he so often cast many into the endless black maw.

«Come then, listener. We have nowhere left to run.»

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! None
Not Friends? Kasir Dorran
Objective: Protect the Secrets & Survive
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

Cali was not a Jedi Knight. Literally, not a knight. Also, pretty literally not a Jedi too. So, brute force weathering Kasir Dorran 's blows was not an option. Pink Cutey like her had to work to use the momentum of his strike with a slight deflection to keep the swings away. Some footwork helped her slender self dance aside to open up more space. 'course, a staff made it necessary to really dance as the man could quickly alternate from one side to the next. Kasir would have the displeasure of hearing the smaller, lither figure grunt, squeak, and even cry out in alarm -- not pain -- as she swung and flicked her own blade in time with his strikes. Man really knew how to make it a workout.

The broken ground didn't seem to provide much of a problem with the Zeltron as she moved. Her initial movements may have had Kasir think her uncreative or stiff, but it had simply been a Zeltron gauging her opponent. Once their spat got underway, the man would have to try and pin her down with how freely and swiftly she bounced across the surface of the planet. Small jumps usually. Just enough to avoid being struck. An efficiency to her movements that came from experience -- he wasn't her first glowstick-pal.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. He stopped. Cali could feel the exertion bead up on her forehead. The weight of the bag strapped against her back had certainly made it all more of an exercise than the fight alone. "Hey, that's totally not true. I'm the Cutey that talks to machines, and trust me they have loads to say. So, air? Yeah, gotta be a chatter box with all it hears. Just too soft to hear it, ya know?"

"Huh?" Cali stepped forward. "Hey, wait," she shouted at the scary man, Bob, as he stepped into the broken store.

* * *​

Kasir brought a void to throw the Zeltron in. A colorless pit one could fall forever and never hit bottom.

A pit that when flipped became a nearly starless sky where Cali and a formless figured lay back in the bright fields of white. A laugh flowed from the Zeltron as she pointed up at the sky. Indistinguishable words followed.

Ruins. Dilapidated buildings. Forlorn faces. Torn open hover vehicles scavenged for parts. The Pink One stood in a wide alley with dark figures huddled off to the sides or where they peeked out of windows.

Pillars. Pristine, bright, and tall. They lined a courtyard. Stone stands were unoccupied save the lone Zeltron. Cali let out a soundless cheer with a hand waved as the formless figured moved on the flat training ground.

Cali grinned. Face splitting. Eyes closed.

The formless figure turned. It had no face or features Kasir could see, but it turned to look at him and the telepathic tendrils that sought to drill through Cali. Then a red saber ignited in its grasp.

* * *​

Hand stretched out as if that could have stopped Kasir, it swept aside and with it pulled the Force. "That... was not nice." Countless strewn bits and broken store goods floated off the ground to begin flying toward Kasir's back in rapid succession. It'd be a distraction while she darted toward Kasir.

 

[Milo Ferin]

Objective: Yippee-ki-yay?
Atham Harek
​

Milo half ran and half stumbled through the corridor. The fear that washed over him was cold as the Dark pressed in at the edges. Everything was unfolding so fast. The Commandos melted between illusions and light and he tried to keep pace. When the flashbang detonated his muscles clenched tight as everything blurred into a dizzying whirl of sound. Slicing through the haze, a scream tore the air. A pang of sorrow knifed through him. Death, regardless of the source, always laid claim with icy fingers.

Pressing forward, he ony caught up once Atham halted. Milo skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with him. Wide-eyed through his fogged goggles, he glimpsed up at the man.

"Milo. We have our orders to save the data here. But- you don't."

"Sir?" Milo's voice cracked.

Fingers already commited to wrapping around the EMP in acceptance. Holding something designed to erase oddly felt like betrayal, or some strange contradiction. Seconds slipped away; the Force held its breath as he wrangled with the decision.

"Whatever they found here, the Sith want. And whatever the Sith want, can't be good for us all, hm?"

Shoulders twitched with uncertainty. "You sure you meant to give this to me and not, uh.. literally anyone else?"

What if he destroyed something that could save lives? What if he preserved something that could end them? But.. maybe this was the very lesson Atham had been trying to teach all along since that day on Vendaxa. Besides, he didn't want to just follow forever; he wanted to grow too.

Something distant from Ukatis nudged him forward.. those days before the Light, when the teen's spirit was more youthful.

A small, guilty smile crept onto his face. "Sir.. you're a bad influence. Just.. don't tell the Council. Please."

Scanning the room, he saw the tangle of cables snaked across the floor, holo screens blinking. Bodies were strewn in that aftermath of whatever had been crawling in here. He moved toward what was believed to be the central power column. The device was placed against the surface with a soft click. With a twist of the cap, a beep signaled the countdown.

Propelled by reasons that could not be explained, he grabbed a handful of cables and yanked. Sparks erupted and painted the room in light. Against all evidence.. it still felt like helping. A datapad poked out from a pile of debris and so he snagged it without thinking, tucking it under his arm while bolting from the room.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Foe: Cali Ziiva
​

The void clawed at the mental space, shadows folding inward like a ravenous throat, daring to gulp down any remnants of Light. Amid this suffocating pull, a Light resisted the Dark's encroachment. Glimpses of the Pink One’s inner landscape surfaced, a tangled labyrinth to be sure, at least from a Sangnir's perspective. And within that storm was some abstract menace, something of a sketch with a red saber drawn. An imagination untamed, maybe. Every push there sent him reeling.

Abruptly, the ruined store manifested sharply around him, senses snapped fully awake. A body lay shattered by the entrance, split clean in two.. the remnants of his arrival. Around him, scattered figures lay broken and small, like fragile ants crushed. The persistent voice of hers veered his attention away from the carnage. With back still turned, Kasir cut through the air. “You’ve survived only because I've allowed it."

The rain of cans and boxes thudded against his shoulder and back. An exhale sharp with irritation, broke the space before him. A swift vertical rotation reset his stance; a pivot perfected by war's cold hand. His own sweep sent debris scattering in a violent burst. Blades trailed crimson arcs. The weapon danced lazily, spinning in an attempt to bait her closer, to use its reach as an advantage.

“Your thoughts are scrambled beyond reason, though I shall not become lost in its madness,” spat under the chaos while slowly retreating on the backfoot.

So it would appear the store finally shed its guise, shifting into an arsenal opportunity. A shopping cart beckoned as a makeshift shield, and shards of glass glittered, ready to fly as missiles if called upon. And yet Kasir’s fingers deftly curled, summoning a nearby bag of flour instead; a rather incongruous choice. It ruptured midair, a bloom of white dust casting a powdered storm. At the same time, a boot connected with the frame of a hand basket, which sent it skittering across the ground toward her feet. as she closed the distance.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Corazona von Ascania / Novac Lyrikal
--------------------------------------------

The masked Sith Lord let out a hum at the young Jedi's bold statement, tilting His head up for a moment as though considering the prospect before clicking His tongue. "If only it was quite so simple. Any bit of knowledge can prove useful in the right circumstances and those assaulting this temple have absolutely no restrictions on any approaches or methods so long as it gains them power and position. They do indeed need to be put down like the beasts that they are, but today I have my own questions in need of answering."

The Sith Order had come to New Cov in force and even Darth Strosius knew well enough when a gamble was simply too risky to pay off. Attacking them in the rear would only leave them all open for the Jedi and High Republic to fell them in turn, it was far better to just let the two batter at one another whilst He secured what He could amidst the chaos. Just as He was attempting to do now. Although He did have to admit that the thought of fighting the greatest enemies of the Sith alongside Jedi of all people was rather amusing.

What a shame that the Jedi proved too infuriatingly stubborn and foolish to be of any such use. "And your kind has clearly spent too long secure in your Core Worlds that you've forgotten how the galaxy works. I wasn't asking Jedi, I was simply giving you a choice that could have saved your miserable little lives" The Light Side swelled and He silently cursed Himself for falling into what must have been some form of trap but even as His "wings" receded He maintained an undeterred and stalwart disposition. "And you chose poorly."

This place had defenses and defenders, something of worth sat within no matter what they pretended. He hadn't come all the way out to the accursed Mid-Rim just to go home empty handed. He'd just have to make His search quick once He was done. Darth Strosius leapt down at the two Jedi, His lightsaber swinging in a wide arc towards the more familiar one whilst His sword slashed towards the serpentine. When He hit the ground He landed on both feet, solidly enough to crack the ground under the weight of His armor and strength alike, aiming to keep the two separated and easier to handle one at a time.

 

[Daxin Veyr]

Del Mirah Warren of the Narrows

Daxin Veyr felt the heavy presence of the Sith crash over the platform like a wave of tar. No time left.

He yanked the black ion earring free from his belt and tossed it in a clean underhand arc toward Warren.

"Catch."

He knew it wasn't the plan Warren had put forwards but he wouldn't have time to throw it later.

At the same moment he reached out with the Force, a gentle pull wrapping around Del like invisible hands at her shoulders and back. He drew her sideways across the durasteel, sliding her out of the direct line of the giant Sith and closer to the edge of the platform where the jungle waited.

Her terror flooded into him through the connection, cold and sharp, but he held the pull steady and soft so it wouldn't startle her more.

His own heart hammered against his ribs. The dark side pressed in thick and oily, testing his control, but he kept his jaw tight and pushed back with what calm he could manage.

Daxin planted himself between the approaching Dowutin and the others, half-smirk pulling at his mouth despite the fear clawing at his gut. He could feel every flicker of panic and resolve coming off Warren and Del, feeding into his own scramble to hold it together.

"Warren, now," he called, voice steady with that warm edge even as adrenaline burned through him. He ignited his lightsaber in the same breath, the blue blade snapping to life with a sharp hum. The glow lit the smoky air around them.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! None
Not Friends? Kasir Dorran
Objective: Keep Secrets Safe and Far, Far, Far Away from Kasir
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Cali chipper voice was steeped in doubt at Kasir's claim he'd allowed her to survive. Sith had to tell them certain things so they could sleep at night. It was true. Cali knew all about it. Because there was more than what he'd glimpsed in that ethereal place. A history a warrior wouldn't even begin to associate with a Zeltron and certainly not one as 'divorced from reality' as Cali seemed.

He was right though. Her thoughts were pretty scattered. Perhaps only surprising in that her ramblings were a genuine expression of her personality rather than just a mask to have people underestimate her. In spite of it all, however, the Zeltron could fashion an organized stream of consciousness when the situation demanded it.

"Deflagration?" the Pink woman cried. She stumbled and wobbled as she fought to come to a stop before the cloud. "What kind of Cutey do you take me for?" The blue blade of the lightsaber lifted and wagged off to the side for emphasis. She didn't spend all her time sunbathing on beaches and sweet talking hunks. Fine powder clouds were serious business when you worked in manufacturing.

The basket lifted off the ground in time for her saber to bisect it and ignite the powder despite calling out the trap.

Valiantly, bold and brave, the Zeltron Not-Jedi took stock of this perilous situation, drew upon her experience, and swiftly bolted in the opposite direction. Nope, she wasn't jumping through even a brief fireball using it as cover to tackle a Sith Warrior. Her Xobos had taught her lots of things about Sith combat arts, but there was one thing Cali had learned above all others: the surest move to make in fighting a Sith Warrior was to be somewhere else.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Foe: Cali Ziiva
​

That bouncing, utterly unwarriorlike stance grated against him. Even her dismissal arrived without thought, bereft of tremors. The disrespect and the refusal were both noted. Worst of all.. her tone.. and though he would never name it aloud, the lack of her fear was almost strange. Most beings quivered beneath his cruel gaze; mortal hearts loved drumming out surrender. Instead she laughed and doubted him. She treated survival like some cosmic joke, as if death were but a rumor she'd never personally encountered. Many foes had fallen before Kasir's nocturnal hunger, and tasting their fear had always been a favorite indulgence, even before his unnatural creation upon Jutrand. But this one? This pink, chaotic anomaly? She served none of it up.

And then she named the trap aloud, like she was lecturing an Academy class. Deflagration, as if she were proud of knowing the word. Not that he did. Still, unpredictable in all the wrong ways. The basket failed as well, and then came the whoomph from the massive flash of fire. More civilians screamed and the heat rolled near him; he recoiled, though to an observer it might have looked like another tactical step, masked in grace.

Undead senses, sharpened beyond mortal ken would constrict this realm. He registered her footfalls on the tile. He too heard her heartbeat. She was running because she knew she could not win; prey with good instincts, mayhaps. Many Jedi courted reckless and were predictable. She was neither. But this theater of fire would soon claim her.

The shelves around him were full of nonsense. Bags of chips. Chocolate bars. A mop bucket.. why? The environment itself became tools of war. She couldn't dodge everything. Perhaps the Pink Fool was dragging him down to her level; a Sangnir should not be throwing chocolate. A pale wrist flicked; a multitude of bars became a blur, wrappers snapping like little whips, some bursting mid flight, with flecks of cocoa spreading in different directions like shrapnel.

Another telepathic message with extra attached was sent forth, except colder and more invasive this time; he wanted it to press against the inside of her empty skull like a hand to a throat.

<<Your jokes are nothing but a shield made of paper. But your blood sings when you lie.>>

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! None
Not Friends? Kasir Dorran
Objective: Keep Secrets Safe from The Black Harvest
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

Cali managed to bob down in time to avoid the mop bucket as it sailed overhead. "Whoa, Bob's got aim," she said to herself. A thought arrested as suddenly as it had appeared as her bright eyes fell to the ground littered with random goods. A soft coo followed as she reached out to snag a chocolate bar off the ground.

The lightsaber snapped off and was shoved away in order for the Pink Zeltron to begin turning from one side to the next and following a searching pattern for more of the sugary substance. Sure, the planet was undersiege and there was a super scary Bob nearby with a temper, but Cali had found chocolate. Everything could wait a moment while she secured the goods.

A sharp crack followed Cali taking a big bite out of the first bar while another wrapped one was plucked from the ground; Kasir's telepathic grump filled her thoughts and wide, bright eyes lifted to stare straight back at the man with the chocolate between her lips. A slow chew followed the harbinger's oath of doom.

"When did I lie, Bob?" Cali had quickly swallowed in order to cry back across the distance to the feisty fellow. "And I don't need to lie to sing, ya know? Not that I'm singing for ya. I know what ye're thinkin'. I know yer type." A blink. "What's with all this blood talk anyway?"

 

[Darth Nefaron]

JEDI SCUM: Balun Dashiell
DZARA BRO'S: Lirka Ka , Helix ​

Though it was all but certain he would come, Nefaron was nevertheless overjoyed to see his newest opponent yet again. While he had been battered and broken in their last encounter, the Sith Lord had let him live if only to taunt him further, lure him back toward the darkness that he resisted so fiercely. In a way, the Corpse Lord understood Balun for they had both recently suffered defeats that had changed them in some way. Balun was at last a Knight, and Darth Nefaron was at last prepared for the next phase of his plan.

Yet the question remained. Would Balun help him carry it out, willingly or otherwise?

While the chamber the Jedi Knight had entered appeared empty, something stirred in the shadows. The whir and clicks of robotic limbs could be heard, the rustling of black robes and cloaks in the dead air of this most ancient temple. Nefaron chose to reveal himself, though not without theatrics, for he now stood behind the Jedi, a short distance between them as the Sith looked up at a statue of a long-dead Jedi Master from the days before even Bane walked the galaxy. Nefaron did fancy himself a historian, and how often was it he got to admire relics of the sort only the Jedi Order held? Naturally, the name on the statues base had long been degraded by time, but it was one the less impressive.

“You healed well, Balun. Your connection to the force seems even stronger now, but to what end?”

Nefaron spoke without looking at the boy, his arms folded behind his back as he continued to admire the statue.

“This place is strong in the force. Your Order chose well to maintain a temple here, even if you are merely infesting the tombs of those who came before you. Our Orders are alike in that regard, living in the shadows of those who came before.”

At last, the Corpse Lord turned to face Balun, yet this time he did not make for his lightsaber or ready some obscure force ability. Instead, he chose words, but those could be just as deadily in the hands of a Dark Lord. The temple shook from the power of a distant explosion, the force a blaze with the deaths of so many so quickly. It was at once exhilarating and exhausting. The Corpse Lord may have reveled in the slaughter if he had not come for a different reason altogether.

“Do you plan on killing me? It would be the logical thing to do, your weapon is at hand and I am not sure I am fast enough to block your strike. It would be so simple, and you would be a hero.”

Dead eyes drilled into Balun’s own, scanning for some hint of emotion, the Dark Side prodding at his mental defenses to see if he was ready to embrace murder to achieve his goals.

“Or perhaps you wish to see why I am here. You wish to see what terrible secret I am about to uncover that lay buried beneath our very feet. We can walk that path together Balun, you need only stand at my side and I will show you what has been hidden for so long.”

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THEY CAME FROM THE WALL | SO & HR JUNCTION OF ORD VAUG & BASSADRO
LOCATION: New Cov, Site of the Ancient Jedi Temple
INVENTORY: High Republic Jedi Robes | Crossguard Lightsaber | Standard Lightsaber
DIRECT TAGS: Darth Nefaron
ALLIES: The Jedi Order | The High Republic
OPPOSITION: The Sith Order

​

The Jedi Knight remained stoic in place as he sensed the Sith Lord's presence from behind, Darth Nefaron revealing himself some short distance back, appearing to be appreciating the statue of a nameless historic Jedi eternalised in memorial stone, rather miraculously maintained in all its presumed time hidden away within the chamber of the Temple.

The Sith Lord spoke, and though Balun held his Lightsaber at the ready, he did not turn it upon Nefaron. Dangerous as he was, the Sith Lord was presently unarmed and resorting to violence was not an act that Balun wished to undertake unless absolutely necessary. However, as his eyes found the dark figure shrouded in his Sith garbs and the emanating strength of the dark side of the Force, the Jedi Knight could not help but notice that intuition gave him pause to consider other threats within the large room.

Their first encounter had been so violent and nearly resulted in Balun's death, yet here Nefaron presented himself without his weapon in hand. Surely he had something else in play, should he so choose to target the Jedi with the desire to kill.

"A peaceful resolution is always going to take priority over resorting to violence, but you will not mind that I keep my blade at the ready for what else you have brought here with you" Balun responded, his words spoken with a mix of suspicion and caution as he relied on his peripheral vision for any hint of movement, while the Force flowed through him, assisting his senses in reaching out beyond his physical self to maintain better environmental awareness in the dark, dimly lit room he shared with the Sith Lord.

The Sunfire ambience of his blade moved as Balun turned with gradual care, presenting his front to Darth Nefaron while ensuring he did not move so fast that the Sith would take action by presumption of intent. "There are lives being lost, both Jedi and Sith-Imperial above us, and yet you choose such a time to encourage dialogue. Your lack of compassion for your peers is a tragedy, you know that?" Balun accused Nefaron of dismissing the anguish of battle on the ground and upper floors above their heads, the pair standing in the basement chamber of the temple crypt, and indeed, the Jedi Knight was curious to learn what twisted hope Nefaron had for such a sacred place to the Jedi of old.

"Our encounter on Moorja provided some insight as to your character, so yes, when I sensed your presence here, not participating in the battle but delving deeper, it seemed you came with a specific objective in mind", he confirmed his suspicions, voiced with accusatory intrigue; "Yet some things are better left undesturbed, to rest and out of the hands of those who would corrupt their purpose".

Though he knew not Nefaron's target of interest, the wiser decision appeared to Balun to stand between the Corpse Lord and his would-be goal. The Jedi Knight moved in stride, positioning himself in front of Nefaron's pathway. He did not lift his Lightsaber in a show of threat, but it remained active at his side and cast light across the floor of stone and timeless dust where they stood, now face to face.

"You stand on Jedi grounds, and you are not welcome", Balun informed him directly, "What you seek back there is not yours to take. You should turn away, leave this place without a fight. Return to Sith Space and take what forces you have at your disposal with you".

Former Mentor: Ala Quin
Jedi Apprentice: Cerys Dyn
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​