Skirmish Eclipse | Jedi vs. Sith

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Double-Bladed Lightsaber

Ever since it began on Onderon, visions had been troubling her mind at night, or whenever she allowed her mind to wander deeper into the Force. At first, the images had been vague — showing her duels, people and planets without any sense of when or how those events were supposed to unfold. Then came the Empire's invasion into the core. With Empress Teta, Tython and several other worlds fallen, those visions continued, but turned far more vivid.

More real.

From atop a rooftop inside the Holy City, Valery watched the devoted believers on their march towards the Temple. Other Jedi stood with them to offer protection or to join them on their journey, but Valery wasn't focused on their destination or purpose. She had seen her visions and felt the warning. The Second Great Hyperspace War had revolved around many of the ancient Jedi Worlds, and with how much the New Jedi Order had grown, it only made sense more of them would be targeted by this Empire that had risen from the Maw's ashes.

But this time was going to be different. The ambush they had planned was about to be turned against them, and Valery was more than ready to be part of that effort.

The grip on the weapon tied to her belt tightened, and with her fiery gaze focused on the streets below, she waited.

Sahar ​

 

[Efret Farr]

An element of surprise was with them in the room but it was far for his, nor was it quite yet revealed.

Though she sensed danger quickly approaching from behind too late to avoid injury altogether, she did manage to subvert its brunt. She dropped her weight. As she fell to her knees, the dagger grazed her shoulder, opening a shallow but still stinging riverbed of tightly woven cloth, tanned skin and, finally, crimson blood.

She slid over the floorboards with slowing momentum. With an outstretched hand bracing on the side a display case, she spun around on the kneepads of her tunics. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her lightsaber. The fingers splayed further apart for part of a moment, causing a Force barrier to form over the datapad and nearby amulet a ways above and to her left.

The archeologist was confident that her priorities were set straight. Preservation of historic knowledge of any kind always would be her first concern, but this darkly-clad, blurry intruder was currently a close second.

Post 03
Malva'ikh Dralidok​

 

[Miri Nimdok]

Had she been still able to use the Force, she might’ve been able to see and appreciate the grace and speed with which he dodged the shot. Instead, she saw it all in real time—that is, she couldn’t see it at all. One moment she was standing there firing at him; the next her rifle’s barrel had been sliced off and she was sent flying backward by a kick to the gut.

She hit the far wall, the impact against her back dwarfing the pain in her abdomen. Yeah, that was an injury she was probably never recovering from. Disability benefits, here I come.

“You’re stronger than you were the last time we met,” she remarked. Clambering to her feet, she checked the rifle. Still fireable, though it’d probably explode and kill them both if she tried. Maybe later. She stowed it away, instead pulling her slugthrower pistol from its holster.

"I can feel your anger. You're not here to protect anything."

She ignored his taunting. The stupid Light vs Dark dichotomy she’d been subjected to her whole life meant nothing to her now. It was just war, where you killed your enemies before they had a chance to kill you. She’d found freedom in that, at least.

The pistol was loaded with incendiary ammo. If it missed, whatever it did manage to hit could still catch fire. Her aim was intentionally broad; a bit of trailing cloth from his outfit or leaking motor oil from the dead droid might still light him up even if she couldn’t hit him directly. Bang, bang, bang. She fired a rapid three shots, as many as the weapon would allow, fully expecting him to charge at her again or use the Force or whatever. She might be dead before she had the chance to watch him combust, but as long as it worked…

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Kyric]

Obligatory Power Metal Theme for Fighting Bad Guys
(mostly because dragon)

Starring:
The Big Man [ Caltin Vanagor ]
An Actual Walking Nightmare [ Darth Aion ]
Probably the Thing That's Going to Kill Me [ Domina Prime ]

An enormous flash of lightning split the sky, momentarily illuminating the murky streets below the kiffar long enough to spot more brawls breaking out all around him as the 'innocents' torn from their homes revealed themselves to be the city's defenders in disguise.

Very cool.

To say Kyric did anything remotely as cool as the Big Man after that would be a lie.

The kiffar darted across another roof somewhere around the time the Big Man was dashing, dodging, dipping, and destroying duracrete and durasteel amid his dogged descent overhead. Kyric slid to a stop halfway across one roof and pivoted ninety degrees to follow the ship's course correction. Caltin wasn't making anything easy for him, but when was anything on a battlefield easy?

Never.

The ship skipped off one more building before making its final descent. Kyric hopped atop a durasteel crate tucked up against the rooftop's ledge. He raced across the ledge, his gaze locked on Caltin and the flaming craft as it careened toward an empty lot adjacent to the Temple of Kyber. The force once more answered the young Karis' beckons, coalescing around the excited rogue like a protective blanket. He further shaped it around himself like an added layer of skin. His eyes slipped slowly closed, both body and mind centered within himself, working in tandem to follow the ebb and flow of his many destinies.

One called louder than the rest.

Kyric pictured the scene in his mind's eye, his eidetic memory and complete faith in the Force working in tandem to paint two vivid scenes overlaid one atop the other. Seven fissures spread across his 'vision,' each one burning a different colored light, breaking his 'sight' into eight distinct segments. Those auras began to bleed over one another. Eight distant voices blended together into a cacophonous roar for an instant longer...

Then there was but one presence within the kiffar.

Kyric moved in tandem with the whims of fate. He dropped down the remainder of the way to the street, falling some seventy feet before a bubble of telekinetic energy appeared beneath him to absorb the impact of his fall.

Continuing his charge, Kyric rounded the corner of the street to see Caltin leap from the ship right before impact. The resulting explosion eclipsed his impressive and bulky frame, casting the epic landing in an even more epic shadow.

"Dope."

Then the dragon arrived and Kyric threw himself before an oncoming wave of powder and flame. He thrust his arms forward and grasped the small portion meant to slag their temple-side haven. Metaphysical might crashed against the dragon's genetic and techno-enhanced assault. A bubble of distorted space began to rapidly manipulate the energy he managed to trap within it, rotating it in a bid to build up more force in the attack before Kyric ripped a small enough tear in the exterior stasis field to funnel a swathe of azure flame back at the drake and its rider.

Kyric wasn't expecting the beast to be hurt by its own attack. I mean, its scales were blue for goodness sake? Its color-coded resistances! He was hoping the sudden flare would block the monstrosity's vision long enough for the big guns to hit.

"Big man!" Kyric shouted with a grin. "You're up!"

 

[Darth Aion]

Silence grew as he traversed the streets of the city.

The same ghostly, and now understandably deadly, red tendrils danced about as he walked. Some moments with his hands outstretched while in others he merely strode amidst meager pockets of twos or threes. The result, regardless of the display, was all the same as each being he came into contact with presented varying forms of fatigue, desiccation or lifelessness as they were left in his wake. It was his form that stood as the mystery amidst the flurry that unfolded, the eeriness of it matched only by jarring movements that became decidedly more human with each essence he consumed, as if the very life were returning to his jet black silhouette. Yet even as that life came the apt minded would not miss the cold and callous disposition; as though the being cared not for even it's own machinations.

With each step he drew closer to his mark, the hum of that rich potential like a pulse that lured the wrenching gnaw that whispered to him. Pulling him and anchoring him to the world around him. Even as his gloved hands became slightly charred and his cloak showed hints of singe it did not halt his pursuit. He felt nothing, understood nothing and accepted nothing more than the path to his prize.

​

Only for a swathe of lightning and fire to cast a mix of hearkening and blazoning light and heat upon him.

In a swift moment everything changed and a tilt of his head beckoned a different perception.

He stopped in his tracks as the swift culmination of the events struck him. A flash of lightning that brought a ship careening down into a billow of flames followed by an even greater display of smoldering fury as azure conflagration consumed a portion of the temple and it's surroundings. Yet his attention did not stray to the overwhelming heat and light that cascaded over his shadowed silhouette. He felt it, his body almost allergically reacting to the heat with an ushered hiss and sigh from his mouth as his body fought for moments to combat it, an easier task than traditional due in part to the vast amount of essence he had previously consumed; as an amped battery would combat the a marginal strain at full charge contrast to being flickering on fumes.

His attention fell to the figures that stood before the flames. The boy from whom he could feel the pulse he had been tracking, visibly young contrast to the power that oozed from within, and a much larger and visibly formidable man that he had sensed earlier that practically wreaked of the ancient days of his time before his fall. One stood as his prey and the other as a hindrance that he hoped would be drawn away by what he would have permitted to be the far more threatening display of destructive power. The lucidity of his mind returned had laid the permission for him to undertake a biding of his time. Would the larger man choose to tackle both problems? Defend the young boy from the ravenous hunger that even the Sith knew both of them could feel? Or would he choose to defend the temple from the crusade of an inferno that now consumed the temple above?

Though he cared not the choice, he was prepared to meet any of them, though not without a small hint of adherence to his own desires. His head tilting towards the flames as if acknowledging them in their glorious engulfment of the city he raised his left hand as he did so and with a surge of the Force through his chest, arm and hand began to wrench at the position in which the boy found himself.

No more. No less.

Immediate tag: Kyric & Caltin Vanagor & Domina Prime​

 

[Sazo Vass]

Foe: Sorren Moonstrider
Equipment: Talionis, Jiub
Jedha| Holy City

Sazo kept riding Jiub, the 8 meter long akk dog having just enough space to navigate the alley- but just. Her mind was still on the dead Jedi girl, her light snuffed out.

So distracted that-

The Force screamed.

Startled, Sazo spun around, Talionis halfway in it's sheathe as a man descended upon her with alarming speed, a blue and white blade slashing forward. She just leaned back, hissing as one of the sabers bit into her shoulder. The Korun continued to lean , then, steeling herself, gripped Jiub's scales as she thrust both feet backward in a lunging motion, tapping into the Force to send her assailant flying.

She hopped off Jiub's back; the familiar growled irritably, unable to maneuver into a position to help it's Master in the narrow alley. Sazo drew Talionis, green light from the Force-imbued katana lighting up the alley. She examined the assassin; brown hair, brown eyes, lean but skinny.

Which told her nothing about the man who had jump from the roof to disembowl her.

"What do you want?", she demanded, stopping a few feet away from the mystery assailant.

 

[Ran Serys]

The Temple of Kyber on Jedha was a location Ran only knew fresh after destruction, never as the last stop in a procession. She decided she had to see it in this way, and in this light. She marched among the people. She was a protector and a friendly face to any who would need it.

Ran was also a pilgrim. She was easily struck by the beauty of the moment. The disappearance of the day and the coming evening, the waves of peoples through streets and alleys, and the feelings of faith that emanated from many. It made her smile so simply and so instinctually. For an instant her brain turned off creating a space for an all encompassing euphoria in her head and then her heart. The moment was much needed. But like all moments it was fleeting. Her mind was pushed to purpose.

The enemy was there. She knew it. She could feel it. Could she have anticipated the moment they chose to make their move? She was no seer, but her instincts were sharp. She positioned herself on the outskirts of the procession. She was a leap away from facing danger head on, and a flourish away from protecting the nearby crowd. Quick to draw she'd be ready for the moment, or at least she thought so.

Darth Apophion​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

“You’re stronger than you were the last time we met.”

With an arrogant scoff, Zaavik punctuated his adversary's observation.

"You have no idea."

A sudden notion illuminated the future. Gunfire flashed deep in Zaavik's thoughts. By the time he sensed deception, it was already too late. Incendiary rounds exploded on contact with the deflecting plasma, evoking a voracious mouth of flames. Zaavik was swallowed in an instant. His lightsaber was flung across the room. Molten lead seared into his arm, buying time for the next volley of rounds to ignite more flames upon grazing blows to his shawl.

Danger and fear sent his Force-adjacent senses into a spiral of urgency. For a moment he flailed, trying to shed his outer layer, but his desperation didn't last long. Flammables from the droid ignited, growing the blaze with an eruption of searing agony. Immolation was an all too familiar pain. It dredged up decades-old grievances in a maddening cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins.

Pain and fear became hate, and hate was his foremost source of sustenance. Suddenly, the growing heat and smell of singed hair became incentive. With a blood-curdling wail, Zaavik lept from the veil of flames that obscured him, arms reaching toward his foe. The conflagration grew against the backdraft of his pounce, engulfing his outstretched limbs just before they were set to snap shut around Miri.

 

[Aris Noble]

This wasn't the first time he'd taken up the mantle of protector knowing the Sith were about to strike. Onderon came to mind, where he was supposed to keep to the back and not be involved in the actual battle. It didn't stop him, of course, but it wasn't a good memory to linger on. Something was going to happen here. All the others had been tense, prepared, worried.

He stuck to those who did need to be protected. The faithful of the Temple of Kyber. He wanted to keep them safe, much like any other Jedi, but specifically because they didn't seem to want to protect themselves. They knew something was coming, but they were here anyway. It was frustrating, but he still admired the dedication they had.

Aris smelled it by chance. Blood. Close by. He unclipped his lightsaber, moving to where he could smell the danger and crouched beside those that had already been taken out.

He frowned. Maybe he should've learned more on medical? Didn't matter too much as he stood to look around. Someone was here.

Prowler

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Spoiler: WEAPONS

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)

"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)
The late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)
HK-88 Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Spoiler: RIDES

Starship: Spectre, (NC-1000 X-wing (Jedi Variant) in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay,

Spoiler: SANCTUARY

Sanctuary Island

​

LOCATION: NiJedha | OBJECTIVE: Atop the Temple | POST #: 2
TAG (ALLIES) : Kyric |
TAG (FOES) : Domina Prime | Darth Aion

[media]

A picture of focus and sheer will, only Caltin’s eyes met the gaze of the Kiffar, but he still managed a head nod “yes.” .I was never “finished”. Glaring momentarily at the huge homage to the world slayer… was that it? Maybe… no need to worry about semantics right now. Turning and getting eyes on the dragon and… oh sheesh is that the crazy four armed chick from that castle?? Really?? Yeah, that’s her. I guess it’s true, the Force DOES have a sense of humor. Assessing the scene, Vanagor had about nine things that needed his attention, like right now. These buildings were very susceptible to flame, TIES were forming air superiority, the Sith near him needed engagement, and this nutcase living out a kid’s movie.

A kid’s what?

Nevermind. This was one of those times that it was good to not have emotions, Caltin was able to come up with a “less than perfect, but should be at least somewhat serviceable” plan. With the Force clearly as his ally and the power shimmering out of his eyes, the big man held out his arms at half extension and reached out. The air was dense and arid, but remarkably what little moisture that could be pulled was done so readily, the mixture into the air was coming quickly thanks to the jet streams being created by all of the intense air traffic and a thunderstorm was eerily beginning to swirl in the air.

It always took a lot out of him to create a storm so, the last “big” thing he would do right now was reach across the sky and “grab” a TIE(having relinquished control of the weather to the planet’s and natural electromagnetic fields) and slowly begin to tighten his grip into a fist, crumpling the ship into a ball but not before giving the pilot time to escape. When satisfied, the huge ball of technology and durasteel was sent flying at the dragon with an odd sense of accomplishment, as if someone far away was sitting behind a computer finding a way for that to happen and not look completely ridiculous.

Now back to the first one.Turning on his heel and taking but a few steps, his breathing was deep, but well controlled, his aura was fluctuating but in an incredibly inconsistent manner, a trick he learned a long time ago. This was another way of masking your aura to others when you do not want to let alone how strong, or weak you might be and if done right there is no discernible pattern.

One thing is certain, Caltin could not spread himself thin like this all day. He would not let those capable of the destruction like this “Dark Side Elite” go off and fulfill their destinies without a concerted fight. However He could not do this alone. The Big man had the kid, and whoever he was with here, and he knew Valery was here. Would it be enough?

It would have to be.

Standing erect. Cracking his neck as the rain torrents began to pain him in moisture Caltin just looked on. Almost “dismissively” if seen from the surface. Leave now. Do not be stupid. Sith,

​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Nathan had just barely gotten into another street when he saw Astrid pentoghast draining the life out of two Jedi. He scowled as he spun his blue Saberstaff, somehow scowling even harder than normal.

If Astrid thought he was some Padawan who was going to try and entreat for her surrender, then the first hint she got that he wasn't was his response:

"Death".

Nathan switched to a Staff variant of Form 2, giving a flourish of his blades with a careful, yet elegant spin. And then he sprinted fast with the Force, carefully precise spins of his blue blades aimed at decapitating her on the spot, confusing and almost hypnotic in their spins as they raced ever closer to the flesh of her neck.

His response may have been Death but he wasn't talking about himself in his response.



Meanwhile...


"BURRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNN IN HO-LY FI-RE..." shouted the Clone Pyro, PM-777, the only one of his unit cleared for field use on a strictly experimental basis, as he used his flame thrower to ambush a Sith Lord in a wide open street. The Sith Lord formed a bubble of Force Energy at first, but the heat grew more and more intense, rapidly using up the oxygen as he was forced to defend himself from the onslaught.

The Bubble Shield failed and the Sith got the Lil' Ani Special, flailing around in agony as he was turned into carbon.

"SMMMMMMEELLLLLLL THAT MARSHMALLOW!" 777 yelled. "SMELL IT! ALLLLLLLLL OF YOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!"

He skipped along like a happy child on a Playground, waving at the squadron of Navy Pilot Clones in Multirole formation flying low overhead as they prepped to engage TIE fighters, one of many clone pilot squadrons that had come to this planet to defend it from the Sith. They were more than happy to savagely gun down enemy forces from above, firing en masse on lone Sith Targets trying to advance on the temple in particular. Some got shot from the sky with lightning bolts summoned from Sith Hands, but many Sith were getting blasted apart because as legit good as some of them were, it's kinda hard to survive even for Force Users when a Squadron decides to make it personal on singular targets.

PM-777 didn't even wince as a Nearby Sith prepping to engage him was killed by a strafing run from a Clone Piloted TIE Avenger. He just engulfed the corpse in flames, looking for an excuse to set something ablaze.

"BIIIIIIIIGGGGGG CLONNNNNNNNNNEEEE ENERGYYYYYYYY..." he yelled (He did not seem to have an indoor voice).

To his eternal delight, his bellicose nature had drawn the attention of another person armed with a Lightsaber. He grinned under his flame proof helmet as he was put into a Force Choke.

Wild Frontal sprays of flame hit the Sith partially, forcing him to drop, and 777 cackled as he fired.

"CHOO-CHOO, CHA-BOOGIE! CHOO-CHOO CHA-BOOGIEEEEEEE!!! CHOO-CHOO CHA-BOOGIEEEEEEE!!!!" he bellowed as he kept firing focused blasts, dodging telekinesis-tossed objects like speeder bikes and corpses as his foe desperately tried to get away.

"YOU! SHALL SMELL! LIKE BURNT TOAST!" 777 vowed, school-girl skipping after the Sith, only to find that the Sith attempted to flee being burned alive.

"TASTE THE POTENCY OF FUEL MIXTURES! THEY WAFT INTO THE NOSTRILS LIKE THE SMELL OF CANDY!"

The Sith ducked behind an abandoned speeder.

"I SHOT THE SHERIFF AND THE DEPUTY!" The Clone Pyro yelled. "I AM THE BALANCE ON THE SCALES OF JUSTICE! CONDUCTOR OF THE CHOIR OF DEATH! SING FOR ME, ANGELS! SING! SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!" (Witness me: 90 XP)

The Sith abandoned his position before it could be completely engulfed in flames. He dived through the window of an abandoned building, rising to try and counter-attack...

...and was immediately shot dead by the squad of Clone Rangers that had been hiding in the ruin,

"Brother! Check your fire!" one of the Rangers in camouflaged armor yelled as he stuck his head out. "We got 'im!"

"HAIL, BROTHER! FOR WE ARE ALL SAW GUERRERA THIS DAY! AND THE DAY BEFORE THAT!"

"Uh, yeah, totally man." The Ranger said. " Make sure you keep those flames solely on your target!"

"THE FLAMES NEED FOOD TO CHEW AND TICKLE!" 777 yelled.

"You're right, you're right of course, they do, they do, but remember, only burn the flesh of the evildoers!"

"BUUUUURRRRNNNNN IN HO-LY FI-RE---"

"Yes, that also...." The Clone Ranger said in exasperation.

"I OBEY, BROTHER! JUST YANKING YOUR CHAIN A BIT! HAIL! BRING ME THE KINDLING FOR MY HOLY WORK!"

"So...so are you going to try and check where you blast that thing? Or are you gonna totally ignore me and continue all burn-happy and chit?!"

"YES!" The Pyro answered "YES I WILL!"

"I give up..." The Ranger muttered, pulling back into the interior.

"FOR THE FLAME, BROTHERS! DISCO INFERNO!" The Pyro yelled, skipping away happily...

 

[Malva'ikh Dralidok]

ECLIPSE
~inhale, in hell there's heaven~

GEAR: In bio
TAG: Efret Farr

Spoiler

JEDHA CITY, JEDHA, TERRABE SECTOR, MID RIM TERRITORIES

The Jedi was quick. A mere Knight would’ve got caught by the surprise strike and pinned on the wall, sharp blade piercing the flesh between the bones.

Yet blood was still spilled. Skin was still ruptured, ancient, enchanted obsidian metal grazing with organic flesh, subconscious memories of both the victim and the ancient holder of the Dagger intertwining even just for a few seconds.

Kaggath.

Kaggath.

The lack of longevity in the contact would make it easy for the Jedi to resist the nightmare trying to creep up and invade her sanity. A much longer, deeper, more direct contact would be much, much harder to fight.

Soon.

It also didn’t take the Jedi long to secure a position and invoke protection on the archives and artifacts. Even in the direst moment she is still staunch in her conviction. Your average, run-in-the-mill Sith would scramble in terror, losing control over their fear of death.

With her hand quickly gripping on her lightsaber hilt, I ignited my one-handed, Crimson Greatsaber, while the Force pulled the obsidian Dagger back to my other hand, revealing my whereabouts, my stature that towers over her, and the aggressive stance that I’m about to take.

“An interesting scripture you have right there, Master Jedi.”

MINE.

“I hope you come prepared for a dance.”

I launched the full force of my body forward towards the Jedi, a heavy, cutting greatsaber strike swinged down, trying to oppressively stagger the Jedi, if not actually hitting her delicate figure.

MINE ALL MINE.

​

Post #3

 

[Efret Farr]

When she had first turned around on her knees to face her opponent, the museum had become an unfamiliar room. She glanced down and gasped when she saw three large drops of blood directly ahead of her. Had she been—? No, the dagger had only nicked her. There was no way she was losing that much blood. Her near sight was good; it was not mistaken.

Logic told her that this was a trick.

When she looked up again, she was back in the museum. The figure of Malva'ikh was partially obscured by a black spot in her vision. Her brow furrowed momentarily, then the Force filled out the shapes she was missing: his form completed in silvery grey and obstacles in the room showed themselves in her blind spots in shades soft blue.

When his arm moved for something along his waist, her fear spiked in anticipation.

Look, she bade herself mentally in Sign, resisting her urge to glance proactively away.

The crimson blade ignited, its light burning her eyes even at a distance.

Not pain. #Un-comfortable. Look. Water not yet tears rimmed the bottoms of her eyes. She refused to give in, especially since this was the easy part. The next time she saw Valery Noble , she wanted them both to be proud of what had unfolded in this little museum on Jedha.

Momentary distraction came as he pounced. A burst of movement came to her too, and she tumbled away, stood, and activated her own lightsaber. Its green light added to her visual overstimulation by she squinted and continued to push through. She assumed a defensive Niman stance, readying herself to endure another attack.

Post 04
Malva'ikh Dralidok​

 

[Sahar]

Sahar|Eclipse|Deep within the holy city

The Kandaran bade the battle below little to no attention, perched atop the spires of Jedha city, where she made herself hidden among them. Watching and waiting, black eyes hardened with indifference as she twisted her head as she felt the presence of another hidden among the city. Sahar gripped her lightsaber, casting her billowing cape to the side as she descended to another rooftop below and broke into a cat-like dash across the rooftops. The streets ran red beneath her figure as she jumped deftly across a gap, landing on the other side.

The Jedi were prepared, receiving the empire's presence with a well-timed ambush of their own. The Kandaran gave them reluctant credit where it was due, the pacifists had grown hardened by decades of war and it reflected. She no longer faced inexperienced terrified padawans and knights but a battle hardened cadre of light siders.

Was Cale among them, or maybe Dagon? She'd relish such thoughts of cutting their heads off and mounting it on a pike back home on Kandara. Her loss finally avenged and the scorecard settled.

But something told her there was another, more powerful warrior in the holy cities horizon.

Valery Noble

 

[Miri Nimdok]

Miri was already on the move. Fire was an unpredictable beast—she knew that from personal experience. Moreover, Zaavik wasn’t going to just stand there and be immolated. Using the opportunity to get to a better position was the least she could do—

Pointed ears with sensitive hearing provoked a grimace at his wail. Though slowed, she kept going, backing away toward the door which led out to the corridor and the rest of the temple complex.

He pounced. She turned her body away from him, arm pulling back to slam the butt of her heavy pistol into the side of his head as he drew near.

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Kyric]

Kyric! Behind!

In a last-second bid to see his maneuver through, Kyric braced himself. His boots gave beneath him as he slipped, inch by inch through the sand. He maintained his footing until he finished his flashy redirection of the dragon's breath. Then he found himself ripped entirely from the floor and through the air. He turned about rapidly, seeking the source of stalking hunger.

The bone-white mask of an ancient Sith Lord seethed within the writhing shadow of Darth Aion.

That's not good. Kyric's hand shot down to unhook a spherical device from his belt. The distance between them shrunk faster than he would've liked. He wound his arm down at his side and whipped the grenade toward the Sith. His other drew the pistol on his opposite leg. Taking the extra split-second to line up the ridiculous shot, Kyric found himself within the radius of his repulsor grenade as his blaster's bolt made contact at the midway point between Aion and his prey.

A wave of force slammed into Kyric like a wall, and for an instant, his body hung suspended between the force of his flight and that of the concussive energy emitted by the grenade. Then the wave of energy carried the kiffar a solid twenty feet back into the middle of a battered and broken street. His body rolled through sand and stone, kicking up a tiny cloud in its crashing passage.

That was stupid. Arrgh- why did I... ahhh, ouch. He forced himself back to his feet. A dozen tiny aches stuck out across his torso and joints, but nothing felt broken. Lucky.

Kyric didn't feel that way as he eyed the living wound across from him.

Darth Aion | Caltin Vanagor | Domina Prime

 

[Thal Mantis]

Thal Mantis, had come to fight.

Kaleb Sunwalker

​

Or more precisely, a fight had come to Thal.

In the form of one Sith, trying to corrupt a crystal all by his lonesome. Thal stepped forth from an opening, letting himself out of the shadows. Thal was a great deal bigger and taller than the Sith before him, but he felt the Sith's power, hatred- corruption. And arrogance. An air of arrogance around him. Thal walked forward, his boots- curiously, Beskar-plated boots from his late father's armor.

Other than that, he wore the Jedi armor and robings- nothing fancy, nothing flashy.

And the Sith had come for the temple, come for the fight- come for the light.

The cave was growing louder, less silence than there was before. Thal was roughly fifteen paces from the Sith, and held a finger to his lips. There was to be no discussion. No offering of truce. He knew what he was. He knew what he was after, in the end. Perhaps the story changed, perhaps the motivation was different. History rarely repeated, but it always rhymed. And the Sith was not unlike many that came before him, and Thal was not unlike many Jedi before him.

Save for a few key differences.

Because Thal made the first move, dashing forward, thumbing his lightsaber on as he strode forward, dragging it behind him. It created an air of sparks on the ground. Thal grit his teeth but remained silent, eyes narrowing in focus and a sliver of malice. He brought the blade up, curling it backwards into his hand, crashing across the Sith's guard. The Sith would more than likely have time to react quickly-

But the sheer tenacity that Thal opened with was unlike many Jedi. He fought ferociously, violently, intending to kill.

 

[Vulpesen]

Objective: Don't go bald... or die.
Enemies: Sith | Onrai
Allies: Jedi
Loadout: Battlefield

There it was. That beautiful frantic clicking. It was music to Vulpesen's ears. Time to take another breath. Absorb radiation. Convert the deadly into something useful. No point in winning the fight if he fell out later. He exhaled. Break time over. Two of his daggers flicked from his waist, hovering in the air by his head as he turned to face the tree, reaching into his cloak and producing his pistol. "Ya wanna play weird? Lets play weird." His left hand punched a hole through his stone barricade while this daggers flicked out, dashing towards Onrai from the flanks to pierce her in the sides. Levelling the fennec at the hole, he fired the shot with a bang.

Vulpesen considered himself a fair shot, but he was far from a marksman. of course, aiming wasn't quite so important when you had the force and the skills to pluck a slug from the air. Blasters were difficult to affect. Plasma had no real physical form to latch onto. But the fennec fired energized bullets. As soon as the projectile left the barrel, the Valde was there, guiding it like a missile to his target. He didn't point it at Onrai. She was slippery and her body would likely be moving too much as she dealt with his daggers. What he aimed at instead, was the action of the radiation gun. He wasn't sure what it would do upon being violently dismantled. If he was lucky, maybe it would blow up in the sith's face.

 

[Romi Jade]

​

Hysteria had seemingly permeated the area around her, but despair surely did not. However, the near human female had intentionally set out for her, her assault raining down on the Jedi. And by the time she'd realized, Romi understood she wouldn't have the half a second it would take to raise her arms and be a stoic bulwark of defense, so she simply danced back through careful pivots and even one subtle bend of the waist -- out of range of the first few strikes.

Snap-hiss!

Her scarlet saber came up through a wild blur of motion, slashing, the tip even brushing against her pants leg in a rush to counter the last of the woman's assault. Jade cut into the trajectory of her opponents blade, tilting her wrist and locking their blades together for brief moment stillness.

Even then, she gazed upon her opponent from under her hood...and there was something about her presence that hit her like a brick.

But it couldn't be...

Her lips parted in a sudden but silent exclamation.

"Who are you?"

---

Sinestra

 

[Onrai]

Vulpesen

The resulting shot did not hit the radiation source in the gun, but it did render the weapon essentially useless as a firearm,a hole blown through the particle beam array. The pair of daggers were equally close and struck the weapon as she slid back, one piercing through the side of the barrel mount to nearly penetrate through the other side, while the other embedded itself into the stock of the weapon, a wall hanger now if ever there was one. The woman reached for her waist and pulled out a bag of metallic ball bearings with her free hand, her other still holding onto the irreparably damaged rad-rifle as she focused. The ball bearings were lifted telekinetically, and, as she moved forward towards the Force-user, a focused push of ballistakinesis blasting the bearings out at him at tremendous speed, enough to pierce through the nearby tree cover. She had seen this trick used before, and if it could break thrones, it could break Vulpesen - at least in theory. She needed to retain the momentum, and thus already began to think about her next move while she continued to advance towards him. The more he had to focus on defense, the weaker he would get - the better.

In truth, it was nothing personal, but the last time they had met, she had made a more than hasty retreat when Vulpesen had sought to engage. Not this time.