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

[Lirka Ka]

PROFANE TEMPLE

TAGS - Lorn Reingard

​

Violence was in the air, drifting on the wind. Lirka couldn’t help but take a deep breath of it and feel this wretched place in her lungs. The myriad of pieces would fall into place now - she had partitioned the council and rallied the bloodthirsty for this savage plunge into the Republic. The flames of war had already been lit, now it merely needed to erupt into an inferno.

The Sith riled up to war presented quite a great many opportunities. But, she was getting ahead of herself. For now New Cov would mark another step along the Path, and a chance to indulge in the wanton plunder that Lirka so craved.

The metal Goliath had joined among the ranks of those who had struck the Temple itself with rapid efficiency. She knew her fellows would not be far behind and their ambitions would mirror her own - the only issue with that, she knew quite well that none of their dread triad much liked to share. And whatever bits of Jedi knowledge she could gorge herself on, Lirka wished to do so in hushed silence with less prying eyes once the massacre was over.

The Once-Sephi landed upon the stonework with a metallic clang as rock cracked beneath her feet as the vessel upon which she jumped from zipped away overhead. Pandemonium would be everywhere what with Carnifex’s butchery beginning - a quaint prospect for Lirka to stick the knife in deep while the Jedi were occupied.

With the crackle of the electro-plasma filament along her blade springing to life, the Once-Sephi advanced with thunderous footfalls - she’d find their precious archives, take what they’d foolishly think to deny her, and as a proper iconoclast: destroy the rest.

​

​

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Warren of the Narrows Del Mirah Daxin Veyr
Will be coming for you Gerwald Lechner

They had come on a small field trip to study the Jedi Artifacts in the ancient Jedi Temple.

Ironically, it turned into a similar situation Zaiya found herself years before -- a trip to visit friends at the Temple and then the Sith Attack.

This time, however, the Lovalla was a Jedi Knight and had come far from the scared, worried, untrained girl she'd been before. Aris and Blaze had helped keep her safe then. This time, she would be the one to ensure the Padawans would be protected.

Determination rippling over her rosy golden skin in citrine and cobalt hues, the Lovalla turned as her opal blue eyes found the three Padawans, her bangles chiming softly with the motion.

"Warren, Del, and Daxin," Zaiya called in a bright musical tone even as the tension threaded beneath it, her heart fluttering in alarm. Calm. She told herself. She had to project calm.

And she did, softly smiling at the three.

"You're going to head to the evacuation site and help everyone get out safely, okay?" she said, stepping closer, her tone warm but carrying that unmistakable this-is-totally-important weight. "No detour or herotics, just good teamwork and super fast feet, okay."

"Stay together. Work together," she added, tapping two fingers lightly over her heart before pointing at them. "You're much brighter as a constellation than as single stars."

Then she moved quickly, and from her belt, she unhooked a compact pistol and pressed it into Del's hands.

"This is a solid-light paddle gun!" she explained, words tumbling just a little faster with her usual spark. "It makes big light discs -- like, big big -- about a meter! They last five seconds, which is plenty for blocking, stepping, climbing, dramatic rescues… you know, the fun stuff. Works really neat with the Force too if you think outside the box."

The Lovalla Knight's mottled spots dazzled with a flutter of golden bioluminescence as she winked. Then she slipped two bangles from her wrist and handed them to Warren, the metal still faintly warm.

"One's an energy sling shot, Warren" she said, wiggling her fingers in demonstration, "and the other makes the little energy pellets for it. Super sneaky and convenient. You can try and use the Force to push it faster or in a different direction as well."

That glow at the edges of her mottled spots flickered cyan for a heartbeat in a tiny spark of humor that threaded through the tension. Finally, she reached up and removed her dangling pearl earrings, placing them carefully into Daxin's palm.

"These are a little louder," Zaiya explained a bit more seriously, but still light. "The white pearls stun and the black pearls are EMP. Three meter radius, so… maybe don't hug them when you throw them, yes?" she added as she gave a small, playful tilt of her head.

It was then that the Lovalla Jedi Knight stilled as the air shifted, and a familiar sensation brushed against her. Those iridescence eyes gave a slight narrowing, only to have the young, colorful woman give a light laugh.

Then she turned back to the three Padwans, a bright encouraging smile beaming at them.

"You've got this," she said, voice warm, certain, wrapping around them like a shield before any weapon ever could. "Go help people get out safely and make sure to protect each other.That's the most Jedi thing you can do."

She gave them a gentle shooing motion.

"Now go!" she told them, beaming wide. "I have a wolfie to go take out for a walk."

 

[Novac Lyrikal]

Corazona von Ascania
"hmm..i'll help you. i may not be living here, may just be visiting and i may also only be a padawan but that that doesn't mean i wont stay and help. im going to get to my ship and get some things, i'll be back shortly. where shall i meet you? after she tells him he runs of to his Morat fighter. on his way he runs into Zaiya Ceti and saw the others shes was with run off. "oh hey, didnt know you guys where here, im glad to see a familiar face though, anyway i'd stay and talk but i need to go grab some stuff. stay safe ok." he said that last part as he ran off.

once novac gets to his ship he sees his hk droid is still getting ready. "hey hk, 'scuse me," he casusal says as he slithers past. openeing a box by the cockpit inside is his 4 lightsabers, he connects them together to form a polearm and attatches it to the back of his "waist" he then grabs his 2 PbBP-01 S.I. and puts them in little pockets in his hood.

he stood there for a moment trying to control his breathing. its his first real fight. he'd had sparring matches with his former master plenty of time, but he was never in danger. at least now hes ready..no he could never be ready for his. nevertheless he raced back to where Corazona von Ascania told him to meet. once reuniting with her he asked "shall i call in some of my droids? not just for us but to station around the temple. they may take a little to get here as they are on my..or well my masters, frigate."

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Lirka Ka​

The Sith had grown arrogant behind their mysterious wall. After stringing together victories against the Alliance and the New Jedi Order, they likely viewed the eternal struggle as already won. While the Jedi worked to rebuild within the Republic, the Sith mistook patience for weakness. They launched bold attacks and laid sinister traps. Now, they had come for a secluded sanctuary. New Cov was under siege by the deviants once again.

Intuition suggested they knew the Order would be gathered here in force today. A temple-wide alert blared through the halls the moment the first shadowed craft breached the atmosphere. Lorn moved with urgency, coordinating evacuations while the Temple Guard reinforced the main areas. It was a frantic effort to shepherd students to safe zones and protect the elders. His final duty lay in the archives, where scholars often valued ancient tomes more than their own lives.

Lorn stepped into the silent library, urging the head archivist to seek shelter or prepare for a stand. The air suddenly grew heavy. A rhythmic, metallic thudding vibrated through the floorboards, growing louder with every passing second. The enemy had already breached the inner sanctum. Lorn caught the archivist's eye, and both reached for their hilts in a synchronized motion.

The lights overhead flickered once before dying completely. Darkness swallowed the room, save for the faint glow of emergency strips along the floor. Lorn pressed his back against a cold stone pillar, merging with the shadows. He kept his breathing shallow and his mind focused. "Stay quiet," he whispered.

The heavy footfalls of a monster echoed against the high ceilings. This was no mere scout. The presence approaching was cold and hungry. Lorn tightened his grip on his lightsaber, his heart steady despite the looming tragedy. He had survived enough massacres to know the smell of tension and blood preceded the end. If the Sith wanted the knowledge stored in these walls, they would have to step over his corpse to reach it.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //: Aurelian Veruna //:
//: Attire //:

New Cov.

A world in which the Republic had a long tradition of the Jedi. She had hesitated the last time a secret attack was planned. Everything was kept close to her chest to ensure that no one got a whisper of where her affections lie. Yet that moment when she watched the Moorja delegate almost kill the woman under her… Quinn had realized her mistake.

Thankfully, Bastila had not been the one she rescued. But the conversation that had followed the rescue of Sibylla Abrantes had been enlightening in a way Quinn could no longer deny. For as much as Quinn wanted someone to see underneath all the titles and things that bound her to duty, Sibylla had done that.

Sibylla unknowingly… maybe even knowingly had started a chain reaction in the young sovereign. It made her think beyond her desires and realize that, if she wanted to accomplish them, she needed to make certain changes. Peace was at the forefront of her mind; too long had she grown up in the midst of war.

This time, she wasn't going to sit behind her desk or cower behind the backs of soldiers. Quinn would do what she believed was right and warn Bastila, hoping it would reach Sibylla and the Senate.

Moving quickly, Quinn pulled her long coat tightly around her. She moved about the streets feeling the tugs of the Dark Side against her hidden presence. The Sith had come in Force, wanting to claim what they assumed was rightfully theirs.

These claims, this mindset, were not new but were now ever-present. Quinn wondered if her suggestion of Lirka Ka to the council had been a foolish idea. It was her promise, her word to Lirka for saving Kirie . She had offered her power and prestige for the heroic effort the cursed Selphi had expressed.

Something rumbled under the surface of the Order, something threatening to break free and wreak havoc on the masses of the Sith and the governments around it…

Quinn shuddered to think she had sparked the catalyst to all of this.

Tucking into a small alleyway, the Echani quickly dug through her coat pockets to retrieve her comm device. She began working through her address book to find Bastila.

It took a few moments… a few too many, and suddenly the screen went blank. Quinn frowned, seeing that the device had not properly charged on the way here.

This was unfortunate. Quinn quickly began to move again, her eyes searching through the city for something, somewhere that wasn't going to be falling apart in the chaos. She just needed a way to contact Bastila without using the Force.

It was too dangerous.

The walk didn't take long; she moved as fast as she could — her heels tapping against the pavement. A grand hotel still seemed put together; people inside rushed around, trying to navigate the evacuation call for the corporate buildings. She slipped in, easily stole a charging station, and moved along the halls of the chaotic hotel.

With Echani's grace, the woman weaved through the crowds until she reached the larger rooms. At least there she'd be able to set up to charge her device — perhaps tell Bastila to come hide there with her, which would allow the Queen to explain everything.

Not to let her mind stray to more interesting thoughts, she slipped in and shut the door behind her. The lights were already on, which made Quinn wonder if the penthouse room was already occupied. She cleared her throat and decided to get the comm device charging before she did a sweep of the room.

Closing the door, she locked it and began to look for a plug for her charger. Whoever was here really enjoyed their hair products, Quinn noted as she passed by a rather cluttered counter.

Luckily for her, she found an outlet and crouched carefully by it to plug in her device. She waited, hoping that Lirka wasn't smart enough to cut the communications for the city just yet.

 

[Warren of the Narrows]

​

Warren's eyes were large with fear and adrenaline as Zaiya explained what they were going to do. It was going to be Warren's first time in real danger. He was reassured though, that he was with the same Padawans he had met when he first got reassigned. Knight Zaiya was doing her best to keep the composure the Padawans knew and loved, but it didn't take an empath to see that the situation was dire. No matter how much they had read about the Sith, fighting them face on was another story.

The Selonian's ears twitched with anxiety as he listened closely, he knew that his life, and very well the lives of others would rely on his ability to follow the directions given. There was a lump in Warren's throat that refused to leave no matter how many times he tried to swallow it away. He hadn't been responsible for other people's lives before, he hadn't even really been responsible for his own life at this point. He had to choke those emotions down, focusing on the task given to them by Zaiya.

He watched as she gave out the items, first Del, a paddle gun that would emit walkable pads? Warren hadn't heard of anything like it before. He noted that Zaiya must have trust in her to give her something like that. He was sure she out of everyone would be able to use it, Del was so smart. It didn't even cross his mind that he would be given something as well, but it made his heart grow two sizes when he did.

Warren looked at the bands in his hand, beautiful and odd at the same time. He hadn't seen anything like this before either, it was all so exciting and terrifying. His hearing practically went into a ringing as he tried to listen, trying to hide the many emotions he was feeling. He could only bow his head in reaction, taking in what an honor it was to be given such items.

With Dax also getting his own makeshift weapon, exploding ear rings, Warren realized just how serious the Jedi Knight was being when she asked them to be careful. Everything was so grand, it was hard for Warren to even quantify what danger they could be in. Instead of asking for details, he simply bowed his head again and looked to the other two Padawans. They were in it for the long haul now.

"Thank you, Miss Ceti." His words left his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying, "I'm sorry, Knight Ceti." Warren had been so used to talking to the others at the Temple, that he forgot what it was like to talk to another Jedi, especially one out ranking him. He felt a pounding in his chest that he couldn't face, but little did he know it was destiny itself, readying him for the trials ahead.

Tag: Zaiya Ceti Daxin Veyr Del Mirah
Location: Jedi Temple, NewCov
Objective: Save lives

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

You can make a deal with the devil, or you can make a deal with Kinley Pryse. Only one of them lets you walk away cheap​

Objective: BYOO
Location: Ilic
Tags: Joren Vale


The city of Ilic had a way of glowing even when things were going wrong.

Tonight, it burned.

New Cov wasn't supposed to look like this with its polished towers and research domes were built for quiet brilliance, not war. But the sky over Ilic had turned into a jagged mess of fire and descending craft, the unmistakable signature of a Sith incursion. Red streaks tore through the upper atmosphere. Sirens howled. The distant silhouette of the Jedi Temple flickered under bombardment, its shields straining, then flaring back to life in uneven pulses.

For most people, this was a nightmare.

For Kinley Pryse, it was timing.

She leaned against the cracked transparisteel of a half-shattered overlook, watching chaos ripple through the streets below. Civilians scattered. Security forces scrambled. And most importantly, the perimeter around the Jedi research sector? Thinning.

Kinley exhaled slow, almost amused.

"Expensive night," she muttered.

She'd paid through the roof for this piece of information, done quietly, carefully, through channels that didn't like being remembered. The kind of intel that came with a warning attached: something big is coming. Turns out "big" meant an all-out Sith strike on both the Jedi Temple and the planetary research facility.

Worth every credit.

Because while the Jedi rushed to defend their Temple, and the Sith tore through anything that resisted them, there was a third player moving through the cracks.

Kinley pushed off the glass and adjusted the blaster at her hip. The city lights flickered across her silhouette as another explosion rolled across the skyline. Somewhere in the distance, a tower gave way with a slow, groaning collapse.

No one was watching the side doors tonight. No one was watching the secondary corridors. No one was watching her, and that suited the woman just fine.

Her target wasn't Sith and it wasn't Jedi, nor even particularly important, unless you owed the wrong people, and this guy did. Flint didn't like being owed. Flint liked things clean. Balanced. Paid in full, one way or another.

Kinley? She just needed to survive. She slipped past a downed checkpoint, boots crunching over debris as emergency lighting bathed the corridor in a dull red glow. Smoke curled through the air, carrying the sharp tang of ionized metal. Somewhere nearby, blaster fire echoed, fast, chaotic, undisciplined.

Good. Let them keep each other busy. She had work to do.

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Darth Umbra]

TAGS: Aiden Porte

From an onlooker's perspective, Umbra was walking normally, almost calmly. However, he was using the Dark Side to bolster his movements, keeping pace with his troopers jogging toward the Temple in the distance. Umbra cast out his consciousness towards the Temple, trying to find what he was looking for in its depths.

The Light Side of the Force clouded everything surrounding and within the Temple, while the opposing Dark Side powers from the other members of the Sith, competing to get into the Temple, also blinded Umbra's vision. Their torrential power in the Dark Side battled against his own, enveloping him and trying to swallow him whole. No matter. What he sought inside the Temple, star charts and artifacts that may lead him back to his Master, were his only priority.

His mind was rolling with thoughts, and he almost missed the explosion of power that emanated from a being that stood opposing his entrance into the Temple.

"Stand down, leave this place at once. You will not be asked a second time."

"Kill the troopers," Umbra told his men as they opened fire on the Republic soldiers around them.

Umbra strode forward through the blaster fire as his men and their counterparts did the best they could to kill each other. The eddies of emotion that ran through the Force from this conflict fueled him as he strode forward to meet this Jedi.

A lone Republic trooper, braver than most, stood up from behind cover and shot his blaster at the Sith. Umbra's blade ignited, its Crimson-Orange hue burning as he lazily swung the blade and redirected the bolt toward another Republic trooper who dived for cover.

Umbra wanted to stage a show to see how this Jedi would handle conflict from a Sith. As he parried the blaster bolt with one hand, the other snapped out, wrenching the trooper from his position. Umbra's left hand squeezed shut into a fist, the corresponding eddies in the Dark Side of the Force clamping down on the trooper's body, squeezing the life out of him. Umbra didn't kill him; however, he would let the Jedi act, see how it played out.

<DO NOT PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD! KILL THEM ALL! FIND THE->

Umbra shut out his Master, eyes clamping shut, as his Master's power reached across time and space, trying to overwhelm him. Umbra's powers in the Force, which were boosted by his Master's touch for a split second, returned to normal, as his eyes opened back up. The Republic trooper still hung in front of him, squirming against a grip he could not see.

"I will not leave, Jedi," Umbra shot back at the beacon of Light standing before him, "It is time for you to die."

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Foe: Cali Ziiva​

The first thing Kasir registered amid the haze was soundscape, metal girders groaning as they were bending past tolerance. Smoke drifted in ashen curtains. The resistance wove through the murk in methodical formations. Around them, civilians scattered like startled birds.

Beneath this barrage of senses, something irksome scraped the periphery of his awareness; of course, the distinct aura of a Jedi.. a bright flare in his otherwise analytic field. It grated against him, an intrusive and alien glitch beginning to fracture his focus.

Through the motions his mind was a cerebral calculus. He believed not in destiny but in vectors. Everything in motion followed a path. Emotions were vestigial, vestiges of the flesh he exceeded. Cities collapsed, facilities burned, lives extinguished; none of it mattered except as proof of entropy. The only honest force in the galaxy; everything else lied.

Inevitably, the saberstaff was ignited; both blades shrieked to life simultaneously. The Sangnir's upper body rotated from the thoracic spine as he swept it through a figure eight, the luminous loop finding the formation's weak points. A wrist separated at the joint while fingers still curled around a rifle. A knee bucked at an unnatural angle. Their blasterfire stuttered.. another figure crumpled, and the rest were thrown off like an orchestra missing the opening note.

Then.. the stray color. A flare of pink skin against a smoky backdrop. She carried a wrench like some kind of talisman, but did not brandish it. Her steps made no sense; there was no tactician's logic, and no hint of fear. Why did she meander with impunity as though immune to consequence?

Three meters ahead, an overturned trashcan lay on its side like another fallen combatant. Kasir extended a thought and the can rasped as it defied gravity, then hovered like a balloon. After an interminable breath, dark as the void, he released it. The can arced downward in a slow spiral, falling toward her path. A warning shot, a courtesy never offered twice.

​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! None
Not Friends? Kasir Dorran
Objective: Protecc the Super Sekrit Stuff
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

She should get to her ship, right? Well, not her ship ship where her QTs were waiting. Cali wished they were there. Her shuttle ship. Good for ferrying goods and supplies around when you could find reliable distribution partners. It wasn't in the main spaceport that'd totes be crawling with Sithies by this point.

Cali's wide eyes blinked as she jogged down the road. A pink maned head turned to the side to find a garbage can lobbed in her direction. The Zeltron pivoted and stumbled with momentum from the sight. One large wrench was lifted and swept down in the can's direction far from making contact.

And, yet, the can dropped straight to the ground only a few feet away as though it had been struck.

"Who's throwing garbage cans?" She'd come to a stop and took a quick look around to find the culprit. "That isn't very nice! No one greets someone by throwing things at others! No one polite." A beat. "Well? Introduce yourself! You can call me Cali. Because I am. Cali. The Cutest. The Funnest. The Most Adorable Engineer!" And then she struck a pose with a giant grin and both hands on her hips -- wrench included. There was also the 'blaster' holstered at her side as well.

There was nothing a sourpuss hated more than positive energy! Which was really good for her because she had lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of positive energy. That was really bad for Sith-types though. She might even try to hug them. Cutey cooties.

 

[Del Mirah]

Tags: Warren of the Narrows | Daxin Veyr | Zaiya Ceti

Chaos was a terrible substitute for a lesson plan. Del stood anchored between Daxin and Warren, her mind racing to categorize the alarms and the sudden humidity that seemed to thicken with the threat of Sith terror. She had spent the morning preparing to catalog ancient artifacts not dodge orbital strikes. Her gaze darted to Daxin, checking for any signs of the erratic outbursts he was prone to, then flicked to Warren. The Selonian looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin.

Zaiya's cheerful tone felt entirely out of place given the smoke rising over the jungle canopy. Del's fingers instinctively reached for her datapad, seeking the comfort of a checklist, but her hands were suddenly full of a cold, compact weight. The paddle gun felt foreign in her grip. "Wait, you're leaving us?" she blurted out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. The Knight was treating a planetary invasion like a scavenger hunt, handing out weaponized jewelry as if they were party favors.

The trio began to move toward the evacuation site, hurried along by Zaiya's "shooing" gestures. Del's boots crunched over ancient stone as she tried to reconcile the Knight's parting words with their grim reality. "Did she say she was taking a wolf for a walk? How is that more important than this?" she hissed to the boys, her brow furrowing in deep disapproval. "I suspect the woman isn't entirely there. We are being hunted and she's off to play with local fauna."

Anxiety made her grip tighten on the paddle gun, her thumb slipping over a sensitive trigger housing. A soft thrum preceded a flash of brilliant light as the weapon discharged. A big translucent disc hissed through the air, clattering against a crumbling pillar just as a dark, armored shape rounded the corner. The scout fell over, smashed by the sudden disc. Del froze, her eyes wide as she stared at the glowing obstruction she'd accidentally created. "Oops," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Quinn Varanin | Bastila Sal-Soren

Boredom was a terminal condition, and New Cov was proving to be a slow death. The Republic delegates had spent days listening to researchers drone on about biomolecules, a subject Aurelian found as dry as the jungle was humid. The air was a thick, wet blanket that wreaked havoc on his grooming standards. Stepping out of the hotel meant instant frizz, an indignity he refused to suffer. He had packed an entire suitcase dedicated to hair products just to combat the local atmosphere.

Aurelian stepped out of the shower, the steam swirling around his silhouette. He wrapped himself in a plush robe and strutted toward the bed to retrieve his comm. A series of urgent alerts flashed across the screen. Another Sith raid. He groaned audibly, tossing the device onto the fine linens. It wasn't just the inconvenience of a potential attack, it was the inevitable lecture from Sibylla Abrantes . She had implored him to bring a heavier guard, citing the proximity to the Blackwall and the lingering trauma of Moorja.

"Bastila!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the penthouse.

The Jedi was his compromise. He hadn't wanted her shadowing his every move, but she was a more tolerable alternative to a squad of stiff-necked royal guards for a weekend away. He moved toward the door, intending to rouse her from whatever had distracted her from doing her job. If there was trouble, she should have been the one alerting him.

"Bastila! Time to--"

The words died in his throat as the door swung open. Instead of his Jedi shadow, he found a blonde woman crouched by the wall, fussing with a charging cable. The sight of the worst person in the galaxy in his private quarters was the last thing he expected.

"You have to be fething kidding me," Aurelian muttered, dripping wet in his robe.

​

 

[Lirka Ka]

PROFANE TEMPLE

TAGS: Lorn Reingard

Quinn Varanin was wise to ponder the potentiality that a single suggestion was now set to plunge the Sith into war renewed. With Kirie’s blood on her hands and a honeyed lie on her lips Lirka had made another facade at being something she would never be: the hero. She was the that crawled out from distant Rhand, the most horrid of zealot suffocated beneath a Primordial Darkness that clawed at the back of her mind. A Darkness that had shown her the path to survive.

It was not a peaceful path.

Peace is a lie. There is only chaos.

And that horrid path had compelled her to bring have her crawl over another head to scramble upon as she trudged the path to power. She was Imperator now. She was Councillor now. Yet it still wasn’t enough. For the gluttony of Lirka Ka ran deep; it was a ravenous primeval hunger that would never truly be satisfied. But for now…she had her sights well set on the next morsel to consume.

Thud. Thud. Thud. She walked, she stalked these hallowed halls as her cold void of her being desecrated it with each step. Her presence was a whisper in this coming storm of darkness - a hateful whisper of what was to be.

As darkness fell upon her chosen battlefield, the faint gleam of her lenses shined through the hall, as did the rippling crackles of the energy emanating from the electro-plasma filament of her blade. She could feel her body bubble and writhe as the moment of bloodshed came closer, the very suit itself seemed to twitch and breathe with her growing erratic mania. Just as she had devoured the lore of distant Rhand she would devour the lore of this place and rise mightier than before.

New Cov was just the first step on a new adventure to warp and defile the natural order and leave only the whims of Lirka Ka in its wake. Nothing would be wasted here today, every tome would stealing, every Midhiclorian spilled in the swirling bloodshed of this place taken within her to replace that which had been denied.

And to begin her bloodshed, with a hiss and a crack through the hall of her approach - Lorn Reingard and his compatriot would be meet with a crude first strike. From her approach, a chunk of masonry torn from the wall now hurled forward as a crude missile - a brief distraction as the charging Goliath that was Lirka Ka followed behind it, the glimmer of her metallic foulness half-hidden in the dark.

The beast was on the prowl now. And those ever-hateful slit lenses had fallen upon her quarry.

​

​

 

[Daxin Veyr]

Warren of the Narrows Del Mirah Zaiya Ceti Gerwald Lechner

That glow at the edges of her mottled spots flickered cyan for a heartbeat in a tiny spark of humor that threaded through the tension. Finally, she reached up and removed her dangling pearl earrings, placing them carefully into Daxin's palm.

"These are a little louder," Zaiya explained a bit more seriously, but still light. "The white pearls stun and the black pearls are EMP. Three meter radius, so… maybe don't hug them when you throw them, yes?"

Daxin Veyr felt the weight of the pearl earrings settle into his palm. They were like tiny promises of chaos. Cool metal against warm skin, Zaiya’s lingering optimism brushing against his empathy like sunlight trying to cut through smoke.

He closed his fingers around them carefully, half-smirk tugging at the scarred corner of his mouth even as his stomach twisted with the raw surge of fear, determination, and barely-contained panic rolling off Warren and Del.

Stars, she’s really sending us out there with toys and a smile, he thought. His internal voice was dry even as his pulse hammered.

The Temple’s alarms throbbed in his skull, mixing with the distant screams and the heavy, oily press of dark-side presence somewhere beyond the walls. His own control frayed at the edge, Jedi calm fighting Zeltron instinct to feel it all and push back.

"Got it, Knight Ceti," he said.

Del’s blurted protest and sudden thrum of the paddle gun snapped his attention. The translucent disc slammed into the scout.

He hadn't seen a paddle beamer in action. It could pass through most objects and apply a neurological stun.

Daxin’s brown eyes widened a fraction, empathy picking up the sharp spike of her surprise and the scout’s abrupt pain before it cut off.

"Nice shot, Del. First try and you’re already making a difference."

Her panic was difficult to keep at bay. The pink of his skin prickled with adrenaline as they moved. He remembered how she had offered to watch for signs of him losing control.

He glanced sideways at Warren’s twitching ears and Del’s furrowed brow, feeling their anxiety.

"Hey, stick close. We’ve got each other’s backs, yeah?"

He reached out and touched Del's shoulder and offered a nod at Warren. Daxin had been through a lot, but each of those wounds made him more resilient, as long as he could avoid being overwhelmed.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Zaiya Ceti

The presence did not fade and remained clear at the edge of his awareness, distinct from the weight of the temple and the quiet resistance of the jungle. It moved against both, and that alone made it worth his attention.

Moorja had not been an isolated encounter.

Gerwald did not look back, as the Dreadborne would hold their position and the temple would wait.

< Torvald . Status. >

The call moved through the Force without strain, direct and unadorned, serving as a measure of position and pressure rather than a question.

He stepped away from the line and into the jungle, where the growth closed around him and branches brushed against his armor while the ground shifted unevenly beneath his boots. He did not force a path and instead adjusted to the terrain as it presented itself, moving where it allowed and cutting only when it did not.

The presence remained steady as he advanced and did not withdraw or attempt to conceal itself, which shortened the distance between them with each step. Light began to break through the canopy ahead, and the jungle thinned just enough to shape the space beyond it. Gerwald slowed as the growth gave way and kept his attention fixed forward as he crossed the last stretch of foliage.

He stepped into the opening and saw her.

Color set her apart from the jungle, and the way she carried herself through the Force confirmed what he already knew from Moorja. It was not restrained or concealed, and that made her easy to recognize once he had closed the distance.

Gerwald moved forward into the clearing, allowing the space between them to narrow at a measured pace.

“I remember you,” he said, his voice calm.

“Moorja.”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Debris sprayed across the archive floor as the masonry whistled through the air. Lorn ducked behind a stone pillar, shielding his face from the stinging grit and dust. On the opposite side of the aisle, the Twi'lek archivist huddled low, her silhouette nearly lost in the gloom. Silence followed the crash, broken only by the heavy, rhythmic thrum of the intruder's suit.

The monster loomed in the breach, a mountain of dark metal silhouetted against the flickering lights of the hallway. Lorn stayed pressed against the cold stone, heart hammering a steady rhythm against his ribs. He didn't bother with a plea for peace. The suffocating weight in the Force told him everything he needed to know about this creature. It was a void of hunger and malice.

Careful footfalls brought Lorn around the periphery of the room. He moved with the fluidity of a predator, eyes locked on the Goliath's back. A sudden spike of terror and adrenaline flared through the Force, coming from the shadows where the archivist hid. Wait, Lorn thought, reaching out a hand to signal for patience, but it was too late.

A blue blade hissed to life, illuminating the Twi'lek's determined face as she launched herself at the metal titan. Lorn cursed under his breath and lunged forward to close the distance. His own golden blade ignited with a snap-hiss, carving a shining arc through the dark. He swung low, aiming a powerful strike at the back of the monster's knees to topple the beast before it could swat the archivist out of the air.

 

[Torvald]

TORVALD

The ping rang in his head as he finished the last swig of his flask, the sweet liquid warming his chest and its taste biting into his throat.

“Aaaaah, that lads is the good stuff I tell ya.”

He turned around to speak to the company behind him while he piloted his ship already inebriated under the influence of the mead from his flask, jostling the ship.

“Ya know, when I was your age, I would have already drank three barrels of this stuff by noon.”

One of the fresh acolytes within the ship piped up as he tried to maintain his balance.

“Sir, please keep the ship steady, I don't want my obituary to say I died from a crash.”

Torvald blinked slowly at the teenager, almost dumbfounded, then the ship rocked and groaned.

“AH I SEE WHAT YOU MEAN NOW LAD.”

He reached out to Gerwald Lechner through the force.

“Oh you know, everything is peachy, taking the newbies out on this mission today, going to see how well they do in crash landings.”

With that he steered the hull sharply as it cracked through trees and brush. Jostling the inside and thrashing about any loose items including stubborn acolytes who did not buckle in.

All of this caused some of them to start screaming in terror as his laugh echoed in the ship.

“Hold on lads!”

Another violent lurched before the ship made ground, digging into the earth as it slowly slid to a halt. Finally the landing gear popped out tilting the ship off kilter.

“Better late than never I suppose.”

He slowly stood up.

“Alright! If you're not dead sound off and move out.”

Some pained groans quietly rumbled the air as Torvald stepped over them.

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Cali Ziiva
​

The odor of seared muscle clung to the air like grotesque incense. Kasir tasted the iron on his tongue; anticipation or blood, he wasn’t quite sure, but allowed the scent to coat his nostrils as the trashcan clattered across the street. If anything, it sharpened his senses in ways that promised violence. A graceless sweep of the wrench that claimed nothing more than empty air should’ve suggested a civilian with no combat schooling.

It didn’t make sense that there was a tremor in the force with someone so disorganized. The contradiction pricked further at his mind. Somewhere, at the edge of his awareness, was a dull pressure.. like the beginning of a headache. One that had yet to commit. But it would commit eventually. Every title was just another blow to his patience. Why did she believe it mattered ? Why was she still talking?

His boots whispered across the street, a diaphragm pulling air into controlled chambers, pressing in at the bars of a cage. The distance closed to ten paces, no more: close enough for the Sangnir study twitch at her throat, or the thrum of her pulse against the hollow of one’s neck.

Slowly, his head tilted; like a Nexu cocking at prey that refused to flee. Frozen into a sigil, the mask’s contours betrayed nothing.. save for a single jerk at the mandible. The only hint of life beneath. His next exhale was a controlled hiss.

“You are neither cute nor fun.”

If he was inclined to kindness, it was only in the unnatural speed with which he killed.

Raising the saberstaff, one blade aligned with her centerline.. a line carved into the air, marking a boundary not meant to be crossed.

“Do you truly believe your chirpy monologue can rewrite the galaxy’s laws?”

Then he murmured lazily, “Shut up.”

​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! None
Not Friends? Kasir Dorran
Objective: Keep Sekrit Stuff Safe
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

Cali stared as an obviously emotionally well-adjusted person with their mask and angry glowstick approached. It was hard to look away when one of those "Dark Siders" were near. Sure, they were a super enormous headache-- Not because they were lethal, but because they literally gave cute people like her migraines. It was all the negativity. Just wasn't a Zeltron's vibe. But, what it screamed to Cali Ziiva was that such a person really, really, really needed help. Emotional help. Spiritual help. Finding a good masseur kind of help.

Like, look at what the man said! Okay, don't look at it. Listen to what the man said! "Not cute?" The Zeltron's pink hair flopped to one side as her head rolled over. "Wow. I know there's like different strokes for different folks, but that's no excuse for lacking any sense of taste." Who didn't like Zeltrons? Well, yeah, Sith-types. It was the hugging. Many of them were deathly allergic.

Her head rolled the opposite direction when Tall, Dark, and Synth critiqued her, uh, monologue. "Like, yeah. Isn't that why Sith Lords always go around monologuing?" Didn't everyone monologue? It was like a galactic social norm that you had to monologue. You couldn't have a proper encounter if you didn't monologue. Well, preferably dialogue, but someone had to start talking first and Cali was totally good at talking.

"Besides," Cali shoved the wrench into a loop at her waist, "if you were concerned about the galaxy's laws you wouldn't be here doing... uh, whatever it is your people are doing. I mean, besides the destruction and killing -- which is totally not okay. Totally not cool."

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila wasn’t always the best example of a Jedi.

The Jedi were very listening to their surroundings, respectful of the force and engaging of the lessons that it taught them. So as Bastila had come to learn, mostly from the explanation from Lorn, she spent a lot of time seemingly choosing to ignore it.

Mindful of this she had taken extra attention when as she had gone about her newly issued morning meditations the Force seemingly decided that it had done it’s part with waiting for her to listen and presented itself to her not as a voice, nor as a vision, but as that familiar overly suffocating pressure that came when too many threads began to pull toward the same point.

It was slightly nauseating and it reminded her, faintly, of Atrisia, where it had been a slow, rising certainty before the sky had broken and of Moorja, where instinct had arrived a heartbeat too late and consequences had not been so forgiving.

She instantly knew that something was not right and that she had to act. She did not intend to repeat the mistake of previous events where she ignored it.

So without a word or reason she moved.

The lower levels of the hotel were already beginning to fracture under the weight of evacuation orders and half-understood panic. Voices overlapped, footsteps collided, security droids struggled to impose order where there was none to be had. Bastila passed through it without truly seeing it, her awareness narrowing inward and outward at once, her perception to the physical world fading to a blur of motion around her while the Force sharpened into something clear and guiding.

It was hard to not notice it once she started to listen. There were too many presences that were all too close together. None of it aligned and all of it was wrong. Like a song that was being sung by different people in different tongues yet all somehow reaching the same crescendo.

Her jaw flexed as she realised it was a warning, whatever these alarms were it was something more than just border raids, which meant…she adjusted her path.

By the time she reached the lift, she was already pressing on her Comm trying to get hold of Aurelian. Yet the King was simply letting it ring out. “For Frakk Sake Aurelian pick up.” She almost called Sibylla Abrantes , but thought better of it. She had a job to do and there was nothing Sib could do from wherever she was right now.

Yet by the time the doors opened, she knew she was late.

The corridor outside the penthouse lay in an uneasy stillness that only made the pressure behind her ribs tighten further. It was not empty, not truly; but whatever currents were moving through the building seemed to bend around this space rather than pass through it like a focal point.

Of course it was, why did everything have to happen to them? Surely it was Corvalis’ turn to be assassinated or attacked. Her hand reached for her lightsaber and gripped it comfortably in case it was needed. Her other hand settled against the door without hesitation, and the lock gave way beneath a controlled push rather than force.

The moment she stepped inside, the tension shifted. It didn’t disappear at all but it completely redirected.

Aurelian stood there in the kind of half-composed indignity that felt almost rehearsed at this point; damp hair, robe hastily gathered, irritation already forming before the situation had even fully caught up to him.

Quinn, by contrast, was lower, closer to the ground, caught in that liminal space between motion and stillness, fingers still near a charging cable, as though the intent to act had been interrupted rather than completed.

Bastila, entering the room as if ready to destroy the whole thing in the protection of her charge. She didn’t speak. None of them did.

The door shut quietly behind her, the soft click sounding far louder than it had any right to.

“Oh…” Her voice carried evenly across the room, but there was weight beneath it; the kind that came not from anger, but from the strain of holding too many competing concerns in place at once. “You two in the same place is a concern.”

Her attention moved to Quinn, settling there with intent.

“You didn’t call.”

The Force pressed again, stronger this time, drawing her awareness outward even as she remained rooted in place. Bastila’s focus shifted past the confines of the room, tracing the movement of something far less contained beyond it.

“Do you ever pick up your damn Comm?” She looked to Aurelian. “If this rings its for emergencies." She copied Sibylla's stern tone with an accuracy leaning on perfection. "You might want to finish getting dressed. Something is wrong.”

Again she returned her eyes to Quinn. “That’s why you are here isn’t it? This isn’t just a raid?”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Aurelian Veruna Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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