Invasion Total Eclipse of the Heart || Objective 4: We'll Be Holding On Forever

[Drystan Creed]

SARKO IV: BOUNTY HUNTING

Drystan continued his relentless assault, satisfied to find some purchase—steel biting through armor weave and grazing skin, if only by a hair's width. Still, it was better than nothing. He even had to hand it to his mysterious ally ( V1-L8 ) in the wings; those blaster bolts had been well-timed, giving him a brief window to process Kyric's movements—precious seconds he did not waste. But now, the tide shifted. Kyric pressed forward with his own strikes, forcing Drystan onto the defensive.

As the Jedi's saber carved arcs toward him, Drystan's response appeared almost half-hearted, but it was nothing of the sort. Against the slash aimed at his elbow joint, he bent the arm in advance, pivoting outward to let the blade pass harmlessly by. He didn't retreat, even as the saber's tip carved into his songsteel plating, leaving a deep, glowing mark on the upper part of his cuirass. The next strike—a cut aimed at his knee—was met with the phrik casing of his scabbard. His left hand snapped forward, detaching it from his suit, while his right arm locked his sword into the sheath, twisting with Kyric's circling footwork to follow the movement.

Then—calm shattered. He allowed those strikes through, taking what he could with a shoddy defensive effort to keep Kyric in range. He

A sharp click rang out. His blade now fully stowed, the scabbard returned to his side, his right hand hovering just above the pommel.

His left index finger curled onto the scabbard's trigger, slowly pulling, preparing for—

CRACK!

His attention shifted upward, teeth gritting as the roof began to collapse. A chunk of stone crashed down between him and Kyric, cutting off his advance. Drystan's frustration flared. He wanted a sword fight, but this? This was no arena for one. And the bounty took priority.

With a sharp motion, he extended his left arm, palm open. The blackened prosthetic whirred, the node at its center glowing a menacing red.

WOOSH!

From that glowing node, a focused beam of crimson plasma erupted—like a lightsaber's blade given range and velocity, cutting forward with the speed of a blaster bolt. It punched through the falling debris, melting stone and carving a molten hole the size of Drystan's head as it roared toward Kyric.

IMMEDIATE ALLIES: V1-L8
ENGAGING: Kyric
INTERFERENCE: Cerys Dyn

 

[Rik Perris]

OBJECTIVE FOUR
THE RAID
WAREHOUSE DISTRICT
SARKO IV
Aperture Shut

"Uh Rik, we're getting our own company seems like."

A faint smirk marred the steady line of his lips, but he still didn't flick his own blade to life.

"Good," he said evenly, "that's the plan."

The shattering of one wall panel had made a great deal of noise, exploding inward, and he'd hoped their own would take notice and start funneling this way to escape the attempted massacre, but also knew his actions would enable the Black Sun to follow and also draw trouble for him and Sera in particular. How much and what kind, he couldn't say. Parsing the chaos with his senses would take too long, in this situation where he'd not been able to sense anything other than their own people at the start for reasons he hadn't been able to discern. They had to rely on visual confirmation, and Sera had just given it.

"Intent is to draw their attention, and everyone else's." Rik came up behind one shoulder of hers to take a peek inside, with her shield funneling away the gas. He brushed matted, wet hair from his forehead. This downpour wasn't letting up. He saw the two figures making their way through the Chaos and beelining for the opening. "I expect Karis and Sal-Soren's team will funnel this way sooner or later."

If it went as he expected, soon many more would follow suit and try to get out of the barrel. He clapped a hand on Rosh's shoulder, and slid his thumb over the ignition switch of his 'saber with the other hand, not yet pressing to ignite it.

"Let's try to keep the lane open, yeah?"

With: Sera Rosh
Come and Get It: Mercy • Thayne Tameron

Other Allies: Balun Dashiell • Brandyn Sal-Soren • Sara Celwik • Scavera • Talin Treicolt • Thayze Montserrat
Other Adversaries: Damien Dooku • Drystan Creed • Koda Fett • Morrow • Razmir Tezhyn • V1-L8 • Xeykard​

 

[Sal Katarn]

Katarn felt a small spark of satisfaction at blowing half a torso away, even if it wasn't the intended target. Something innate about people, watchin' things go boom. Just sparks somethin' in the blood. Probably somethin' vile, but Katarn didn't care too much. Galaxy was a world of hurt. He'd tried to step away time and time again, but the thing was.... he was just too damn good at killin'.

Weren't no surprise that Sal's next move was to start to aim for another shot at the Jedi dueling it out with the big, scaly lizard, another Jedi moving in to help engage. Katarn took a breath, held it, and sighted down. Katarn had been in more than his fair share of gunfights, made a livin' out of it after all, but this one had far too many Jedi for his liking. Still, even Jedi could be brought down. It was just a tall order.

And... say... was it gettin' hot in here or was it just him? Felt like he was standin' right over a caldera. Sweat soaked his face inside the helmet and he blinked it away. It drenched his back too. No time. He just needed to...

Suddenly, the ceiling groan and partially collapsed in on itself a ways down.

Paying him no heed, Cerys bounded up onto some crates, raised her blades, and prepared to cut through another of the pillars. She paused, just for a moment. Taking a breath before swinging. The building shuddered under its own weight in anticipation.

The mercenary spun about, just in time to see a Togruta Jedi come haulin' through, lightsabers dancing.

No time to sight in on her, she was heading for the next pillar and movin' fast. He pulled the anti-material rifle up and snapped off a shot. The composite beam blasted through the air, ripping straight for the padawan.

Not his best shot, but even a glancin' blow would take a limb off. That's all you really needed in this kinda fight to take someone out of it.

Cerys Dyn

 

[V1-L8]

DIRECTLY ENGAGING: Kyric
COLLATERAL DAMAGE: None
ALLIES: Drystan Creed
WEAPONS: M-300 hunting blaster, Sonic Stunner & YVH Chassis​

Kyric instead slashed through the durasteel beneath them. Molten metal split apart, unhinged and swinging opposite directions. Bolts and beams clattered downward alongside the two swordsmen as V1-L8's shots flew uselessly overhead.

Amidst the fall, Kyric struck out with the speed and fury of a tornado. The cerulean saber flashed forward in two measured cuts for Drystan; one aimed high for the bounty hunter's elbow-joint, the other low, for the side of the knee. The second strike came in a split-second before impact with the floor.

An aura of telekinetic energy encircled Kyric mid-swipe to ease the landing. He bent his knees and drew his weapon back on the landing just after the exchange. The Jedi Knight circled out to Drystan's left, the lightsaber once more in guard.

Time slowed as the YVH-2's processors and photoreceptors honed in on what exactly just occurred. He missed. V1-L8 rarely could claim such a thing, but this was a first even against a jedi. The calculations were perfect, but it was not the aim or timing of his shots. It was the unpredictable pattern that seemed to elude his rather effective thinking. He could of dodged and let the blast hit the other hunter.

It was truly difficult to comprehend. The droids body took a step forward on the catwalk, then another and another. Faster and faster gaining speed in till the metallic skeletal figure was in a repulsor assisted sprint. A blur of gray and glowing yellow eyes trailing like a smudge on a canvas. Both weapons, M-300 and sonic stunner, pointed up toward the ceiling with bent arms. Nearing the guard rail in approach, V1-L8 vaulted over the durasteel railing and propelled his chassis in the form of a flip down to the levels below. Only adjusting his position in preparation for landing on Kyric 's level.

His attention shifted upward, teeth gritting as the roof began to collapse. A chunk of stone crashed down between him and Kyric, cutting off his advance. Drystan's frustration flared. He wanted a sword fight, but this? This was no arena for one. And the bounty took priority.

With a sharp motion, he extended his left arm, palm open. The blackened prosthetic whirred, the node at its center glowing a menacing red.

WOOSH!

From that glowing node, a focused beam of crimson plasma erupted—like a lightsaber's blade given range and velocity, cutting forward with the speed of a blaster bolt. It punched through the falling debris, melting stone and carving a molten hole the size of Drystan's head as it roared toward Kyric.

The droid descended like a elongated needle and managed to glimpse a eerie glow that bathed his form in crimson light, ceiling debris and rain fall that had breached the interior of the warehouse. Weaving through obstacles before getting a clear shot and engaging full auto with both weapons. Set to land adjacent to the jedi bounty, V1-L8's volley's of stun fire and sonic energy intermingled with gravity!

" Your a womp rat in a maze, Kyric! Time has come to put you down!"

 

[Xeykard]

Brandyn Sal-Soren | Balun Dashiell | Cerys Dyn | Kingsley
​

He tested and probed, efforts simultaneously rewarded and frustrated. The Jedi before him made no mistakes, but his technique was uninspired. He stalled, bought time, keeping his form tight. Xeykard pushed him harder, corralled him towards the ray-shielded wall. Some droids drew close, as though sensing the imminence of the Jedi's death, but it was him who would claim the final prize-

The support beams groaned, a flash of the storm outside stalling him for but a moment. The other Jedi -- they would be next. But before he could complete his brutal work, the younger human came flying in, clean cuts delivering them both from the droids. Xeykard did not waste a moment, taking a step back to grasp a stack of boxes. With a thought they launched ahead, swarming to knock Sal-Soren into the ray shield, while Xeykard used the confusion to dash into range of the younger knight, a quick upward slash from hip to shoulder to set the tone.

No more probing, testing; each strike was meant to shatter bones and break Jedi.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous

His blade locked with the Sith's for a moment. A pause in the battle just long enough to feel a breeze, and the rainy night sky through the new hole in the ceiling. He pushed back again, but estimated he still had a few meters before the ray shield became an active and present danger.

Balun's arrival, though, brought a change to the pace of the battle. The Sith lifting his game was, all at once, understandable and insulting.

"Master, we gotta move!"

"No shit!!!"

The distance from the ray shield suddenly felt very small, as boxes flew towards him. Each one pushed him back as he dodged and sliced his way through them. His foot slid to a stop within inches of the shield, and he pushed forward again to engage with the Sith.

"Where the hell is Cerys?" He muttered, before catching a glimpse of her through the clearing gas. She was standing atop a pile of crates, in the midst of the warehouse. His last image of her was of that same blasted beam weapon hitting near her.

Protection instincts surged within. Balun was here. Balun could be saved. He would trust Cerys to be able to get out on her own. She was good enough, better than him in many aspects.

He reengaged with Sith, taking a large swipe at its tail. And put himself on the other side, heading back towards the gap in the wall.

| OUTFIT: xxx |
| DIRECT TAGS: Xeykard Balun Dashiell |
| EQUIPMENT: Lightsaber, spike pack |

​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART: OBJECTIVE 4
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Echo Stone & Lightsaber
LOCATION: Warehouse (Ambush)
DIRECT OPPONENT: Xeykard
ALLIES: Brandyn Sal-Soren
INDIRECT: Kingsley

Balun Dashiell's feet skidded to a halt as the droids collapsed, their alloy heads rolling across the permacrete floor as he turned towards Brandyn Sal-Soren and the Chistori Sith Lord Xeykard . Without warning, Xeykard had seemingly used Balun's interruption as a means of catching the Jedi Master off guard during his distraction and sending him back against the ray shields.

Tightening both hands around the hilt of his Lightsaber, Balun brought the weapon to the ready at his right side, the hilt angled to lean the blade slightly forward, yet not so much that the weapon was pointed directly at the Sith, but keeping it raised in anticipation of the need to fall back on the defence. The Sith, in Balun's experience, were aggressive, and to some extent, it seemed they instinctively moved on the attack. Perhaps it was too much of a leap to assume from his two separate occasions of engaging their kind previously, yet the Chistori did not seem intent on disproving this notion as Balun braced himself.

Xeykard's first attack was not overly complex, and yet the Chistori's size and natural strength were far greater than that of a human. Instead of trying to block the slash dead in it's tracks, Balun stepped off to the right where the blade would angle highest on it's exit, further encouraging the Sith's weapon to soar overhead, by swinging his lightsaber around in a clockwise rotation and meeting the underside of the blade, parrying it high as he ducked low and sought to take another couple of steps out to the side of his opponent.

It was at this point that Brandyn Sal-Soren re-engaged Xeykard by seeking to attack the Chistori's rear, aiming for a blow to the tail of the beast. The Jedi Master's recovery was quicker than expected, bringing a touch of relief for Balun, who naturally preferred they battle the Sith as a team. There remained, however, the looming threat of time running out. Cerys Dyn had already created an escape via the rooftop's collapse, and while Xeykard looked like he could potentially survive such extravagant temperatures, Balun didn't intend on sticking around to find out.

"Master, go!" Balun demanded of Brandyn, making it clear that he wasn't leaving without Sal-Soren. He wasn't the type of guy to leave someone behind, especially when Cerys had told him to take care of her former Master; "I'm right behind you" he reiterated while keeping his eyes upon the Sith, not letting his guard down until he could be certain he was clear to attempt the jump for the catwalk above.

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Kingsley]

Koda Fett Razmir Tezhyn Balun Dashiell Cerys Dyn Xeykard

"The kark she is, you diseased looking little chit!"

"Rrrrawwk?!"

Kingsley's jawa blaster exploded in his talon when he tried to pull the trigger of a weapon cut in half. He dropped the useless scrap and clutched at his maimed hand.

"Come back, my love!" he called out after the retreating togruta, "Your scruffy looks scared her off-"

But Balun was already gone now too. Unaware of the creaking pillar behind him on its crushing descent, Kingsley plotted his revenge against the Jedi who broke his gun and stole his girl.

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Every now and then I get a little bit restless​

She hesitated, blades lifted in the air, ready to strike and bring the roof down. Those within would have to move quickly, those with the Force would have the advantage. The risk, though, was immense. If things went wrong, the deaths of Republic agents or Jedi could be on her shoulders.

Her determination wavered. And in that moment, awareness of an attack ripped her senses free of inaction.

The attack tore past her, as she fell backward towards the floor. And the beam she had been about to cut through was melted in moments. The roof warped, bending downwards. The heat dissipated. And Cerys crashed to the floor.

"Oof."

The Force flowed, dulling the pain immediately, but she still got to her feet slowly. Her arm ached from the gash, while her head rung from the impact of the fall. Something felt off...

As she crouched behind a crate, Cerys checked herself over and then saw it...on the floor. Her shortsaber was quickly deactivated and clipped to her belt, and she stooped to pick up a small datacard.

No cracks. No damage. Good...can't lose this.

She looked at the card, and pondered what it meant. Thought of the consequences. Felt the guilt that she knew she would live with forever. But then she heard Brandyn's words from yesterday ringing loud and clear in her head. From that moment forward, she had known her path. And she had come to Sepan with a primary goal, even if the secondary had turned into a nightmare ambush. She was still set on her path.

"We must consider whose path we walk," Cerys muttered to herself the words of Elenna. The woman that could have been her master.

"My path is my own." Her hand closed around the datacard in a moment of focus.

And using the one useful thing that Brandyn had taught her, Cerys' Force signature disappeared from perception.

It was time to leave it all behind.

⊱⋅ Once upon a time there was light in my life ⋅⊰​

Late yesterday...

Cerys paced, fists clenched and jaw taut. She paced outside Shiaraya's Sanctuary, around the far corner where no one could see her, and was letting off steam. But she was not alone.

He should have told me sooner.

Why did he have to tell me at all?

He got it wrong. It had to be wrong. How could it possibly be right?

The data didn't lie.

The internal arguments assaulted her like a berserk Wookiee. Her scattered emotions and thoughts were unrelenting. Her heart screamed for relief from the truth, hoping for a revelation that it was all some nightmare. And her friend...yes...no...not her friend...her colleague had yet to receive the tirade that was building, and it was no fault of her own.

Cerys held one of her lekku with both hands, teasing it out as if she could make it grow. It was soothing. Though the ache remained.

"I need to find an Oathwarden," she finally said, blurting it out, eyes searching Zahari's for understanding.

"Only they can fix this. Only they can help me," she said, eyes pleading for answers she knew were impossible for her fellow Togruta to give her.

"Cerys, I..." Zahari looked at her hesitantly.

"My... my master might know something. But she's back home, in Sith space."

She glanced from side to side, offering something from her pocket.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

Cerys paused, eyes fixated on the datacard in Zahari's hand. It was too real. Too life-altering. She turned her back on the former Sith, and her head dipped in an attempt to hold back useless tears.

She already knew what she would do.

| Tags: Kyric Sal Katarn Balun Dashiell Elenna Sylari |

| fyi, Kingsley Koda Fett V1-L8 Razmir Tezhyn Mercy Damien Dooku Talin Treicolt Rik Perris Drystan Creed Morrow Scavera Nathan Bloodscrawl Thayne Tameron Sera Rosh Sara Celwik |

|| the roof is moments away from collapsing ||

| Equipment: Twin lightsabers - Vowsake, and Dyn's Mercy |

| Guest writer: Zahari Kaan |​

 

[Kyric]

Solemn Blade
"True mastery begins where individual ego ends."
Tempest of Blades

​

Kyric's gaze slipped down to Drystan's sheath and his eye widened in recognition. Not long ago the Jedi Knight carried Resolute in a similar device. The specifics of course eluded him, but the result was very much the same.

Get out of the way.

A broad chunk of fallen durasteel made the task easier as it forced the combatants apart. One devastating blow eluded, Kyric leaped back to put distance between him and the newfound cover. Again. A piercing cold exploded like fire in his chest. He dropped his lightsaber completely and thrust both his hands for the incoming shot a split-second before it pierced the sidelong catwalk. Plasma erupted and screeched crimson death as it crossed the gap for the kiffar's chest.

Hands wreathed in blue light met the bolt and burned white-hot. Kyric's energy manipulation was a point of pride to him, passed down by a now fallen Jedi Master. He poured his willpower into molding the energy like clay, shifting it around him entirely in a flowing pivot. His hands burned beneath the blast, palms melting under the inferno. The energy dispersed into a brief shield between Kyric and V1-L8, but his chained-onslaught chipped away the barrier succinctly.

Kyric thrust his quivering hand out for his lightsaber, fallen beside a chunk of rooftop duracrete. Three shots found purchase by the time the cerulean saber crossed the gap and activated. Two stun rounds pelted his left arm and it now hung limp at his side. A sonic round roared like thunder in his ears. His vision blackened; ears ringing like an endless stream of bells. He gritted his teeth and raised his other arm, the weapon deftly reflecting the spray uselessly back into the shelves.

The Jedi's mind was empty. The warehouse faded away from sight, the nature of his foes a blur on his senses. Peace overcame him like a rolling wave in an otherwise calm sea. His blade moved like it was possessed, flowing a perfect defense to divert the endless tide of blaster fire.

Do not hesitate.

Kyric snapped back to consciousness. Everything crashed upon him again and he chopped downward with his saber as if the killer droid stood in front of him. A tall shelf looming behind V1-L8 toppled overtop the droid.

Another stun round caught Kyric in his leg and he dropped to one knee.

Thoughts of the others trapped in the ambush flashed across his mind in an instant. He could do little more than stem a fraction of the tide, but it had to be enough.

The Order could turn the tide with or without Kyric Karis. It was larger than him.

A final string of bolts cracked past his saber and pelted him in the hip and shoulder. Kyric fell back, and crumpled into a seated-position. The rubble beside him left him propped up enough to see Drystan's form through the hole created by his blast. V1-L8 loomed closer, both weapons trained on the immobilized Jedi Knight.

Kyric looked past it all to see a familiar figure standing before Razmir. The kiffar's vision swam from the sonic assault, his equilibrium in shambles. He couldn't make out the scene. Only Damien speaking. Saying something. He held something out to the Vigo. Kyric struggled uselessly, his body numb to his mental commands. He needed to overcome the effects of that if he were to survive, but he couldn't tear his eye away from the man he called brother.

Standing dead-center of this nightmare.

Kyric mumbled. "Dammit, Damien."

???: Damien Dooku
Black Sun Syndicate: Drystan Creed | V1-L8 | Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Koda Fett]

His fight with the Jedi having come to an end, Fett moved on to the next.

But, overhead the roof creaked and groaned beneath the weight of itself. It began to buckle, to break, with pieces of metal turning to shrapnel from the pressure as the battlefield of the warehouse was soon to come breaking down around them. The helmet gaze upturned mid-stride, seeing a column being to crumble towards himself and the nearby Kingsley.

"Hrrn," the modulated voice groaned, if only because something in him had chosen to not leave Kingsley to a gruesome fate. The damned bird, as Fett knew him as so well, was on a collision course to being splattered and only the bounty hunter could rescue him from that. He knew he would come to regret it.

The jetpack flared to life, Fett moving along the ground and snatching at Kingsley in passing. "C'mon, freak." He grumbled, grasping at Kingsley's collar and flying up and out through a hole before it could all come crashing down. Landing the two on the rooftop of a nearby building.

Kingsley - Razmir Tezhyn - Balun Dashiell - Cerys Dyn - Xeykard

 

[Thayze Montserrat]

|| TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART ||
Head in the Clouds - Chapter 1
———
ALLIES: Balun Dashiell | Brandyn Sal-Soren | Cerys Dyn | Kyric | Nathan Bloodscrawl | Rik Perris | Sara Celwik | Scavera | Sera Rosh | Talin Treicolt
ENEMIES: Damien Dooku | Drystan Creed | Kingsley | Koda Fett | Mercy | Morrow | Razmir Tezhyn | Sal Katarn | Thayne Tameron | V1-L8 | Xeykard

TELL MË​

SARKO IV

Koda’s offensive barrage, micro-missiles shot from his wrist directly followed by sprays of flame, pushed Thayze to his backheel, having to focus on dodging the first as a bigger threat. The padawan dashed vertically to a low-hanging railing, his armour protecting him from the fire except for one part, the punctured thigh area Koda had out his work in earlier. One of the micro missiles scraped his arm, another spot the flame managed to kiss, and other missiles hit the railing the Padawan was on and another above him, collapsing both, driving Thayze back at the ground with a crumpled floor falling on him.

It would drive him to collapse on most occasions, but his instincts took over in the life or death situation, keeping his eyes open for another minutes where he needed it the most. The bacta and months of recovery wait for him back in Naboo, he just needs to make it out of here.

He heard Koda’s jetpack going towards the other direction, and the grumbling roof of the warehouse ready to collapse. Good news and bad news. Getting himself out of the railing floor trap, he turns his attention back to the ray shields, now quivering, signalling a weakening generator. Fire flickers from a slightly bulging section of the wall; must be a cable or power conduit. His eyes navigate the bulge through the ceiling to the corner, where the generator is located.

Pushing himself past the limit, Thayze uses the remaining of his energy to dash through fire and flames, ricocheting bullets scraping his armour and wounded skin, right towards the generator, which he strikes with his cyan lightsaber.

BOOM! The generator exploded, sending Thayze back first on a cracking column, but hopefully it was the end of the ray shields; a chance to escape for the Republic’s forces.
​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

⊱⋅ Once upon a time there was light in my life ⋅⊰​

Yesterday...

She was hollow.

Her throat had clenched. And her stomach churned.

"You have grown so much, Cerys," Brandyn had said. She had felt pride in that moment.

"This will not be easy. Your biggest battle yet..." He had not been wrong.

"...and I will consider this your trials. If you can pass through this...I will recommend you for promotion." It had been a carrot. Dangled to keep her mind focused. There was no chance of focus though. Not ever. Not really. Not with something this big.

The datapad had been tossed onto the table. It slid, barely stopping before tumbling onto the ground. Her arms were folded. She looked up numbly at the corner of the room. She focused on a piece of poorly done welding.

"Cerys?"

She didn't reply, despite the apparent concern in his tone.

His hand was sensed before it rested on her shoulder. She let it. That alone should have concerned Brandyn. It seemed to unlike her to accept the familiarity of the gesture. He sighed deeply.

"Cerys. I am...so very sorry..."

She shrugged off his hand now. Spinning about on her heels, she glared at him. "Don't! I...you...just...don't!"

Tears. Actual tears were welling up. They were pushed down but she knew they would come eventually.

His gaze looked so pitiful. So concerned for her. How dare he be so empathetic. He was probably thinking of his parents. How they died. How he knew how it felt to lose someone close to you. But he didn't! He didn't know how this felt!

"This is my trial..."

"This has always been your trial," Brandyn said, after an achingly long pause that was probably only seconds.

She searched for more in his eyes. He almost spoke again, but her finger was wagged to silence him.

"Now was the best time to tell you," he said, with that frown, that caring look, "the DNA is a match Cerys. En-Vala..."

Cerys flinched, but Brandyn pressed the point, as if hearing it out rather than simply reading it on the autopsy report would make it easier to hear.

"...Cerys...she was your mother."

Every now and then I get a little bit restless​

Amid the crashing roof and falling slabs of durasteel, Cerys dodged and weaved her way to the opposite end of the warehouse from Brandyn and Balun.

Behind her, a trail of makeshift murder droids lay dismembered and dead of eye.

Her blades cut into the wall, carving arcs from the same starting point but in opposite directions. The circular slab of duracrete fell outward.

And so did Cerys.

She stumbled into the rain and the sludge outside the building. Still cloaking her presence in the Force, she set her eyes on the target - the shipping port in the distance.

Her ticket away from the Jedi Order.

Away from the truth.

| Tags: Balun Dashiell Elenna Sylari EXIT|

| Equipment: Twin lightsabers - Vowsake, and Dyn's Mercy |

| Guest writer: Brandyn Sal-Soren |​

 

[Thayne Tameron]

T O T A L - E C L I P S E
O F - T H E - H E A R T

​

The bitter scent of dioxis mingled with tibanna and burning rubble as Thayne slinked from the rafters. All around him was chaos. Lightsabers glowed in the haze like the streaks of taillights on speeders zipping through a busy airway. He had one of his own of course, but for now, Thayne’s grip was married to his blaster pistol. With it, he sent bolts flying at the enemy. Most of the crimson bursts were deflected, but a few chewed through their mark. Thayne didn’t waste any time checking the bodies, though. He stepped over them, eyes locked on the Jedi and their crony policemen.

He moved slowly but with intent, weaving through broken shelves and crushed camtonos. Above and all around him, the syndicate’s enforcers were oppressing the enemy with unyielding attacks. Blades, blasters, even small explosives.

Thayne moved on despite the carnage, blasting down several agents without discrimination as he hunted for a better prey. And then, through the smoke and embers, his eyes locked on a suitable mark: Sera Rosh

He could have picked anyone in the warehouse, but the Force - accursed as it may be - had spoken to him. She would die, by his hand. He would be sure of it.

Thayne approached with the silent agility of a predator stalking its quarry. Eyes fixed, muscles lithe, and weapon at the ready. He’d use his blaster first, but his lightsaber hung from his waist like a fang ready to sink into the Jedi’s flesh.

Tags
Black Sun: Damien Dooku | Mercy | Morrow
High Republic: Sera Rosh​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

He had lost track of Razmir Tezhyn as the Black Sun Gangsters became more desperate to stop him.

His white blade slashed through neck and torso, but there were just so many enemies to deal with, he became almost entirely occupied with killing them then being able to pursue his quarry as he wanted. No doubt he would find some small satisfaction in that.

But he knew his body language. How he ran, desperate to escape the fate of his underlings.

Nathan had made note of his agility. Scum like this had been arrogant enough to show up in person to watch his comrades die. Nathan was determined to make sure Black Sun remembered this day, but not for the reasons they would want to.

The survivors would remember how their Vigo had fled, how they had been slaughtered trying to buy him time to escape from just one Jedi. How what should have been a triumphant ambush had instead turned into an abbatoir where the warehouse had been torn to pieces in large areas, how the Jedi had rallied to survive.

And how Razmir had fled into the very death gas he had prepared out of sheer desperation.

They would remember Nathan's white blade, how it's light had danced unfeelingly on the lenses of his Hazmat mask as it ripped open their assassins like a letter opener cutting into the flap of an envelope.

They would remember their terror as they watched him wade into the thickest groups, seeking the largest, most heavily armed and armored opponents and killing them first before methodically beheading or de-limbing the rest that they quickly realized he was not trapped in a warehouse with them, they were trapped in a warehouse with him.

(Cutaway of Rorscharch dumping boiling oil on that prisoner)

His white blade moved in fans through Dioxin Gas, biting through weapons and flesh, his fist collapsing faces. The more he killed, the less there were of them to kill his comrades, the more the wounded could find a chance to escape.

They would remember how his telekinesis collapsed piles of crates, ripped explosive booby-traps from their concealed spots and hurled at high speed at shooters hiding from behind barriers, how blasters would lift from the dead at random and shoot the ones shooting at him.

They would remember how the Hazmat Suit Jedi refused to let it be a clear cut victory. How he had killed and killed and killed, until the criminals in his path simply had no choice but to run, and run fast.

As they ran. He saw a wounded Jedi surrounded, being fired at from all sides.

Nathan was not killing for the sake of it. He was here to make sure Black Sun failed as hard as possible at killing his own.

He teleported behind one of the shooters, slicing apart one with a Rotary Cannon, grabbing the Rotary Cannon as it fell with telekinesis and blasting apart the shooters on the Jedi's left flank while hurling his lightsaber at the ones on the right and beheading them before tossing the cannon at high speed into the chest of a Gangster armed with an automatic shotgun and killing him instantly. If FAFO was a Gym Class, than Nathan was the overbearing, demanding coach.

His white blade returned to his hand and he Force Blasted one of the walls open next to the stunned Jedi.

"You should be running..." he advised tersely.

The wounded Jedi, her mouth covered by a Rebreather, ran for her life, not sure who she should be more wary of; the gangsters...or him.

Nathan gripped another section of catwalk that had shooters blasting away at High Republic Operatives caught in the crossfire. He ripped it down, and them with it, a well timed lightsaber throw serving as follow-up, cutting through screaming gangsters as they fell.

Nathan caught his blade as it returned, yelling for the operatives to run.

He had cleared out much of his own area and he used the ripped down catwalk section as a battering ram into the wall to vent more gas into open air and to create more openings for his allies to escape.

But he himself had no intention of leaving.

Nathan was going to stay, and attempt to systematically eliminate as many Black Sun as he could get his hands on.

As Jedi and Operatives ran through the openings he made Nathan would look for any wounded or injured, and tell them how to escape. And then he would find a gangster and show them what a real gangster was.

Gulag Plague Jedi were just built different. They had been trained in a messed up era where there were almost no feths left to give beyond the most basic ones that required them to protect their allies, the Innocent, and to oppose the Dark Side. No counsels to tisk-tisk you, no happy little Padawan trips to commune with the Force, just grab whatever weapons you can find, hunt the wicked, and get to work.

Nathan was all about that work, yo.


Brandyn Sal-Soren

Kyric

Sera Rosh

V1-L8

Sal Katarn

Xeykard

Drystan Creed

Thayne Tameron

Balun Dashiell

Elenna Sylari

Damien Dooku

Mercy

Morrow

Cerys Dyn

 

[Elenna Sylari]

​

ELENNA SYLARI
Shiraya's Sanctuary. Naboo
Late Night, Rainy

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Droplets splashed upon the window of Elenna's chambers. Cool air gently pushing through her window as the night air guided the breeze. Warm lights filled the room, dimmed, clashing with the darkness of the night- perfect for moments of rest and reflection.

She sat quietly in an old, rustic chair in the corner- a physical reminder of Naboolian history. Eyes closed, she sat focused, hands clasped together gently. Elenna's mind flickered over her thoughts and recent happenings; Her research, an ethnobotanical study on force-sensitive flora. Her home, the gardens she tended and the young minds she guided.

Her new protege, young Cerys' who she had become quite fond of as of late. The two had been spending a great deal of time together, ever since their chance meeting in the gardens of the Sanctuary. They'd shared tea & conversation on multiple occasions.

Cerys' had changed, ever so slightly since their first meeting. She'd grown warmer. More present. More open.

...

A few moments passed before Elenna realized that she had been focusing on young Cerys' for some time now, but something felt off.

She knew Cerys' had gone to Sarko VI on a mission, of course. Yet Elenna couldn't sense Cerys' presence anymore- she hadn't realized the two had formed such a connection until it was no longer there.

Growing concern formed within Elenna as time passed. She began to feel restless, uneasy, unsure.

Her ticket away from the Jedi Order.

Away from the truth.

Gone. Equilibrium.

Elenna's eyes shot open, she felt breathless, disturbed. What faint connection had previously existed between Cerys & Elenna had now dimmed properly, leaving her confused and concerned.

After a few moments passed and she had collected herself, a sense of resolved filled Elenna's heart.

She wouldn't rest until she discovered the fate of Cerys Dyn...

Sole post, contributing to Cerys Dyn 's story

​

 

[Drystan Creed]

SARKO IV: BOUNTY HUNTING

Drystan eased out of his stance as V1-L8 appeared into view beside their mark. So—that's who he'd been running in tandem with for this hunt. A simple nod passed from Drystan to the droid, his expression unreadable, before his gaze dropped to Kyric.

In another time, under different circumstances, this might have ended with a hand offered, a word of respect for a worthy fight, and each of them walking away. But this wasn't that time. Here and now, it would be quick. Efficient. As dignified as a capture could be. Credits spent were just as valuable as blood spilled—and this was the life he'd chosen.

The warehouse around them groaned under the strain of battle, its foundations shuddering. Drystan judged it wouldn't hold long—soon, rubble would be all that remained.

He turned to the droid, chin tilting toward Kyric. A light tap to the pommel of his hilt, followed by an upward nod toward the chaos still raging nearby.

"I think we're ready to depart. How do you want to play it? I carve us a path and you carry him… or vice versa."

Whichever way it went, he would keep it clean—professional—to honor the bounty, his accomplice, and the work they'd put into bringing their mark in.

He made a mental note: once this was done, he should get in touch with Quinn Varanin . See how things had played out on her end.

Kyric V1-L8

EXIT POST

 

[Xeykard]

Brandyn Sal-Soren Balun Dashiell | Cerys Dyn
​

His concentration was slipping; so many opponents, so many angles. That one disappeared from his immediate senses -- the Togruta -- threw him off for a moment; a slash sailed over the padawan's head, a slash tore through his tail, that flopped and writhed on the floor. The pain lanced up his spine, the type that staggered, shattered most. Instead, his focus returned twofold as he turned to Sal-Soren again.

"You first, then."

The Barabel put his blade in a low guard for just a moment as he reset his balance without his tail. A moment later and he was again on the offensive; two quick slashes to force Sal-Soren to give, then a hand back as a wave of telekinetic force lashed out to the padawan to send him flying, or at least any follow-up, until Xeykard maneuvered around Sal-Soren to keep both opponents in his sight. He kept pace, heavy strokes interwoven with jabs, feints rolling into swings with ease, doing everything in his power to leave him without openings to escape or counter.

And yet, he felt it -- the grasp slipping, a tear in the net. He raged against it, every attack defiant, but the gas thinned and the air cooled regardless.

 

[V1-L8]

A final string of bolts cracked past his saber and pelted him in the hip and shoulder. Kyric fell back, and crumpled into a seated-position. The rubble beside him left him propped up enough to see Drystan's form through the hole created by his blast. V1-L8 loomed closer, both weapons trained on the immobilized Jedi Knight.

CLANG! A metal foot and knee landed below atop a cargo container with a tremendous rattle. Just as soon as the YVH dropped, he leapt from his position off the container and onto the duracrete floor below. Both rifles locked in on the incapacitated form of Kyric Like a serpent and twist of the droids wrist a energy cell dropped out of the sonic rifle and was tossed behind like trash.

With both hands now on the his blaster rifle, V1-L8's advance quickened to a dash. Pointing the barrel of the weapon in the jedi's face for good measure. " In the name of Vigo Razmir Tezhyn , I, V1-L8, hereby place you under, heheh, arrest. You have zero rights. You are nothing. Your arse belongs to Black Sun." A cold reverberating chuckle emitted shortly. A horrid rehearsed sound of a recording. Dry and devoid of any humanity.

"So go ahead juice pouch, make my day and move." He spat out.

He turned to the droid, chin tilting toward Kyric. A light tap to the pommel of his hilt, followed by an upward nod toward the chaos still raging nearby.

"I think we're ready to depart. How do you want to play it? I carve us a path and you carry him… or vice versa."

Whichever way it went, he would keep it clean—professional—to honor the bounty, his accomplice, and the work they'd put into bringing their mark in.

He made a mental note: once this was done, he should get in touch with Quinn Varanin. See how things had played out on her end.

Curiously V1-L8 acknowledge his other hunter. Giving a rather human side eye to the man. As if the droid's strange ritual had been interrupted by his presence and follow up question. He did not answer back verbally, only glaring back at Drystan Creed . The droid unclipped a metal collar at his belt. The device popped open and was slapped around Kyrics neck. It was a neural control collar. Then similar precautions were taken when the YVH also fixed stuncuffs onto the Jedi's ankles and wrists.

" Organics are so amusing, if only in and of themselves." He quipped. Snatching at Kyrics throat and slowly lifting his numb paralyzed body up into the air. Pause and admire the surge of neuroactivity occurring from this breath taking position. Then end by lowering the boy onto his hard metal shoulder.

A single motion carried out with such precision and disregard. Carried away like a damsel or trophy. Both were fitting labels considering the value in hand now. The vigo would be very, very pleased to see a successful capture. <<" Vigo Razmir Tezhyn , Mr. Creed and I have your package. Gift wrapped like its Life day! Reporting to rendezvous point.">> Following Mr. Creeds lead, VIOLATE tagged behind loosely.

And that's another payday.

OOC: [Exit Thread]

 

[Balun Dashiell]

TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART: OBJECTIVE 4
INVENTORY: Spacer Appare, Echo Stone, Lightsaber
LOCATION: Warehouse (Ambush)
TAGS: Xeykard , Brandyn Sal-Soren

The Sith Lord seemed intent on tackling the greater threat between the two of them, Balun's training and experience leaving him at a disadvantage compared to the likes of Master Brandyn Sal-Soren whom was a Master among the Jedi Order of the High Republic. Xeykard had turned with exacting speed and power, sending a sudden wall of telekinetic force slamming directly into the Rogue Padawan just as Balun was attempting to thrust his blade towards the Barabel's side.

His strike fell short, met first by the barrage and lifted from his feet, sent hurling backward through the air and colliding into some of the warehouse crates that had previously been strewn about the room's floor. He came crashing down against his back and right side, one of the wooden boxes collapsing beneath his weight as Balun's breath was sucked right out of him in the violent and clumsy landing.

Blasterfire continued to pelt against the permacrete floor, though with the warehouse still growing to an intolerable heat, perhaps some of the shooters had taken the opportunity to make their exit, as somehow Balun still hadn't been shot. Despite this, he couldn't sit still and wait for the life-ending bolt to find him, scrambling to pick himself back up onto his feet even as the pain screamed havoc through his torso in revolt.

Pushing himself past the limit, Thayze uses the remaining of his energy to dash through fire and flames, ricocheting bullets scraping his armour and wounded skin, right towards the generator, which he strikes with his cyan lightsaber.

BOOM! The generator exploded, sending Thayze back first on a cracking column, but hopefully it was the end of the ray shields; a chance to escape for the Republic’s forces.

There was an explosion that erupted from somewhere further back, the force of which caused the air to whip up around his form, causing Balun to glance back in search of the source. The Ray Shields that had been blocking their escape on the ground level flickered and sputtered, and eventually cut out altogether. Thayze Montserrat 's initiative paying off in securing them an exit out into the fresh, cool air, if only they could all pry themselves away from the battle, a tactical withdrawal to fight another day.

"Shields are down, we're clear!" Balun shouted once more towards Master Sal-Soren, urging him to consider withdrawing; "Fall back!" he exclaimed. He wasn't typically one to make demands of his superiors, no matter how often Balun made a habit of going against the grain of what was expected of Jedi Students, but this time the words came with more authority than he meant to. Better for Brandyn to live, and Balun face the consequences later. Something he would reason with the decision, should they survive the day.

Jedi Master: Ala Quin
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​