Public A Sword-Forged Anew | Raid on Kaas City | Open to All

[Tydeus of Tion]

V E R S U S

Quinn Varanin​

New Kaas City,
Iron-Blood Training Facility

Droplets of rain parted before Tydeus' fist, air rippling around his knuckles. They struck the chest of the warrior again and shattered the already cracked plastoid armor, sending chunks flying. Tydeus' fist continued on, rupturing through flesh and obliterating bone with a horrific snapping until he stood stock still, his arm plunged into the man's chest up to the elbow. Vitae oozed around his arm, hot with lifeblood.

Nose to nose with the man, Tydeus stared into the Epicanthix's black eyes as his spirit left him, fascinated by the way the spark of consciousness departed in death.

He drew back his hand swiftly. The body slumped over. He thought he might regret the deaths, thought they might leave him hollow. Instead he felt power. He could not explain it. His fingers curled and uncurled, warm bits of gore-slick flesh dripping from them.

"What are you doing?"

Tydeus turned toward the voice, eyes narrowed with hate. He took a step forward, then paused.

"Varanin?" They'd met once, years ago. Why would the princess of Eshan be here? Unless... "Were you at Tion when it fell?" The coldness of drawn steel crept into his voice.

Bernard | Rik Perris | Sera Rosh​

 

[Stennis Fel]

P E N I T E N T
THE LIGHTSWORN
As Embers Dress The Sky
Battle Armor | Lightsaber
LS | Inosuke Ashina | Kyric | Shinzou Ashina
SE | Darth Empyrean | Darth Carnifex

​

He had to question for some time, if this was ultimately, the right decision. For his legacy, his people. The Empire had long faded, its ashes scattered across the Galaxy into several disparate remnants. The Knights of the Empire held their allegiance to the Force in its form held corporeal, the Empire. Now, gone. There was no aim that was more noble than that which Stennis raised his blade. To bring death to the darkness. Not to bring balance but to bring justice, vengeance and peace.

Over his once pristine, Argent Imperial plate now marred from training, battle and other strife had since been worn to the metallic layer beneath, barely any of the alabaster paint remaining in his armor as he donned the ebon cloak of the First Crusader Chapter's mourning over it. He was hardly out of uniform now, a ghost of a dead order seeking vengeance in one of the more corruptive hearts of darkness in the Galaxy.

Aboard the stealth ship, his eyes opened to the lowering of the ramp, pale skin marred beneath the death masque of Rurik that conformed comfortably to his features. A revenant of an Emperor slain, now returned.

He snatched the hilt of the saber as the frigid rains of Dromund Kaas's atmosphere kissed what little of his skin was bare before he joined the others in their rendezvous with destiny. The Force made for an easy enough landing, even through the naturally abrasive, stormy atmosphere of Kaas. Soon enough, his boots pressed against the cold durasteel of the city's streets. The Strike Team delved forth. Fel was quick on Inosuke's heels, the four all but in line as they carved their entrance into Kaas City.

A harsh foot of a Sith Warrior slammed against Stennis's chest, pressing him into a wall before a heavy handed strike of his crimson blade swung downward from over his head. His argent blade met his in kind before Fel's leg swept at the Warrior's to strike his balance. A success in part before the scion of darkness reeled back for another cut of his blade only for Stennis to deflect it, driving through his guard to jab the blade through the man's head, a horrid expression wrought with rogormortis shaping on the Sith's face as the silver blade pierced and melted through his skull. Stennis deactivated the blade, gaze shifting to Inosuke beneath the metal mask.

His eyes widened at the mention of the Emperor before his argent blade sparked to life again, whirring with a hiss of the activation to deflect an approaching blaster bolt. He nodded.

"The Emperor...and another, the darkness is strong here. A host of several hundred strong of them have come to life in rage in this city...but few of them archons of the brood, heads of the hydra. Tonight, we sever them all." He said, whirling his blade with a twist of his wrist to loosen the muscles more than anything else, gritting his teeth as the group continued their brazen approach toward the temple.

In their shadows, token squads of Imperial Force Corps troopers thudded into the city from drop pods. Crew based weapons were quickly set up along avenues of approach and exfiltration as others moved to seek out valuable buildings to provide cover for the Lightsworn approach around them. A foreboding appearance, the lot of them. In the field grey durasteel of the once Imperial Army uniform, but clasped over their faces, as the remaining knights had donned, the death masque of Rurik. His still, metallic features present in their faces as it was in that of Stennis. A ghost of the Emperor's return come to see vengeance.

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Open to anyone: feel free to mistake her as a Sith or something idc, I want violence.​

Vornskr Square, New Kaas City

Capris tucked into an alley like a rat to a sewer, choice words spilling in rapid succession from her lips. She wasn't even a Jedi anymore and this bullchit still managed to find her. Then again, maybe she shouldn't be frequenting unstable, Sith-occupied worlds without an expectation of violence.

Hugging her cloak to her chest, Capris buried herself into the city's lanes, pointedly away from the screams of plasma and people. Piss-poor judgment and blind impulse had landed her here, about to get sniped in the crossfire of a war she had no stakes in. It was unfortunate, and all because of the vague musings of some seer. Why she decided to take Sinestra at her word was beyond her. It was stupid really, some deeply suppressed part of herself had to realize that. But desperation proved to a powerful diversion from rational thought. And she was desperate. For clarity. Information. Control.

Sinestra held a carrot over her head, and Capris was about ready to follow it anywhere.

So it was with cautious steps the girl approached Vornskr Square, trying to calculate the fastest way out of the city. As one might reach for a blaster in anticipation, Capris reached for the Force to cover her. In response, runes snaking up the length of her remaining arm burned a faint blue, siphoning the dark side and augmenting what little strength she had on reserve. Her hand flexed and beneath it a small patter of raindrops formed into a needle of ice. An admittedly underwhelming defense, but a defense nonetheless.

Feth it. She'd make it work.

 

[Darth Invictus]

​

NEW KAAS CITY | STREETS
TAGS: Kaleleon | OPEN

​

New Kaas City was indeed an interesting sight, both to witness for the first time as well as to feel the history the place had to offer. Apparently it had switched rulers and ideology frequently in the past decades, ranging from the deranged fanatics of the Light which now came back to plague it, to Sith of another Empire. Empires rather, plural. He stood in front of the Sanctum of the Kainate when He turned around to march towards the incursion. Sith Empires were as plentiful as Jedi Orders it seemed and were equally enduring. Dead Gods, Eternal Fathers, Galactic Emperors - there was no shortage of Sith who ruled, of Sith who thought themselves a Sith'ari. A title as washed down and thinned as the blood He was serving.

But the delicate details of galactic and Sith politics had to be postponed, thoughts gathered and ordered for another time, another occasion, for war had come. The conflict He craved, He embraced followed suit wherever a Sith went. Now the temper of the attackers was indeed fascinating. The air was ripe with the tension of an attack, the echoes of combat hailing through the streets, but every soldiers, every warrior could also smell the nature of the battle. It was a vibration, an instinct, a noise in the back of the head which gave one the feeling for what was to come. Victory or defeat, tenacity or calmness, wrath or serenity. And it was filled with passion. The attackers were here to fight.

The noise of combat grew closer, the armored sabatons clanking with each long step which carried the Sith Warrior further onwards. His gauntlets were empty, the lightsaber still at His belt as He marched on. A figure of unrelenting wrath entering what was His arena, what was His interpretation of home. Invictus heard the blasters clear now and the swoosh-sounds of lightsabers in various pitches. And He felt their bearers, their righteous fury, their ideal of retribution was carried ahead of their attack like a standard.

Around Him were few civilians who ran past, hiding or readying, He wasn't too sure if all of these people would be soldiers or not, but it also mattered little. A squad of soldiers in Kainate battle-plate appeared from an alley next to Him, a brief moment of hesitation as they were considering who and what He was before they pushed on towards the fight with the Dark Lord following suit in calm steps, placed one after the other. He briefly touched their spirits, their devotion to the Sith was unquestionable, religious zeal paired with iron discipline. Impressive.

Apparently His path has led Him to cross the path of, unknown to Him, Strike Team Ashina. Immediately upon laying eyes on the enemy, the armored arms engulfed itself in sparks and cracks of electricity, a purple miasma of lightning dances across the black plate from shoulders to fingertips which He let erupt after a brief moment, casting it through the rain and street towards the attackers from both hands.

Darth Invictus had joined the dance.

 

[QK-2510]

Location: Capital District, New Kaas City - Dromund Kaas
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Tag: Kyric

QK-2510 dived through the air with the grace of a predatory avian, the engines of her winged jetpack falling silent to better conceal her approach as she dropped down towards an unsuspecting squad of Ashlan radicals on the street below. This particular group had been tasked with holding the perimeter—a suicidal, fanatic duty meant to buy time for those who had ventured deeper within the District to reach the Thaumatargic Tower and perhaps thereafter, the Sith Citadel. Each of the radicals envisioned themselves going down in a hail of fire and incandescent fury, surrounded by piles of dead Sith as the unholy name of Ashla was sung from their lips.

However, the shadow looming above them had different plans.

Eyes bathed in crimson light honed in on the radicals from above. With a single mental command, their signatures were marked for termination by the bloodthirsty intelligence loaded into the targeting matrix that guided QK-2510’s slavishly-maintained weapons unto their foes. Now, with one of those weapons honed on the gathered Ashlan radicals, the malevolent intelligence bristled for blood, but was forced to wait as the jet trooper coasted in, looking for the optimal moment to strike.

Fortunately, the intelligence would not have to wait for long.

QK-2510 gave the command and right on cue, a salvo of three miniaturized missiles raced out from the underbarrel launcher in perfect harmony, set on a lethal trajectory towards their targets. The intelligence manifested its elationary bloodthirst in a string of binaric exultations, but the jet trooper bade it silent as her missiles struck true, detonating around their targets in bursts of heat and light, consuming the bodies of six radicals in a raging inferno that reduced their forms to charred, mangled husks of ash and charred flesh within a matter of seconds.

Just as the missiles exploded QK-2510 willed her jetpack’s engines back to life so as to quickly slow her descent, before announcing her presence with a hail of superheated Ethaerium plasma that struck and burned its marks with the incandescent hellfire of a star. Thus, the remaining four survivors were cut down in unrelenting fashion, bolts to the chest boiling their insides until their bodies were reduced to steam, grease, and limbs left strewn across the street.

And just as she did, QK-2510 pulled up into an ascent, before twirling her body mid-air in balletic fashion and aiming her blaster rifle towards the upper chest of the one target that she had almost missed—a lone beacon of unholy Light casting a shadow amidst the fires raging in the dark skies of Kaas City.

In that respect, QK-2510 saw him for what he truly was. The realization swiftly filled her heart with righteous hate and wrath, giving impulse to her anger as she squeezed the trigger of the deadly instrument in her hands. On cue, a trio of blood red particle bolts spat out from its barrel within the span of a second, each fired from a little more than 40 meters away with the intent to snuff out the accursed agent of the anathema.

<<Jedi spotted and engaged. Praise the Eternal Father!>>

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: New Kaas City //:
//: Tydeus of Tion //:

Breath softly, for my heart breaks with yours

Her words were too late, and she watched in horror as the man crushed the guard's chest. The way his fist was buried inside the armor only showed its ignorance. Proving that they genuinely weren't protected. The rain continued to fall around them, and thunder crashed as the lifeless body hit the ground. Quinn wanted to run. It was evident that this was no man; he was a monster and had no remorse for the lives he was taking.

Initially, the Princess assumed there were Jedi in the area. She had felt the influence of the Light descending upon New Kaas City, but this man was void of that. All she felt was his rage and hatred, its source unknown - until…

Varanin…?​

His voice pulled at a familiar string, one from her past. It had been some time, but there was still something precious about the tone, even with the hate pouring from his heart. Quinn let him finish, as he mentioned Tion. It was enough for her to put the clues together. "Tydeus? Tydeus Gravid?" Her heart fluttered with happiness briefly. She had heard they all perished in the attack, knowing that he had made it out meant there was a possibility for others.

Quinn shook her head, "No, I wasn't at Tion, but I heard." It was a horrid act of the Sith Empire, but there had to be a reason for it. Quinn wanted to believe, but the Echani Princess knew otherwise. "Why are you here, Tydeus?" She questioned him again, stepping forward. A hand hovered slightly near her blade in preparation for his potential attack. He saw only red and knowing that she was here, Tydeus may include her in his revenge despite their former friendship. "We can go back to my apartment, you can wash up and we can talk." Her voice calm as she reached through the Force to try and influence his rage to become dormant for just a moment. "I'm here for you, I can help."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Úlfs Reiði
ALLIES: Darth Empyrean
ENEMIES: OPEN

Find the Jedi and kill them.

The orders from Darth Empyrean could not be any more clear. Nothing of it was unexpected either, especially after the interruption from the priest. Empyrean seemed to hate them, loathe their very existence. Gerwald did not blame him. On Stewjon many good people had been burned at the stake by the religious types and their superstitions regarding what they did not understand. Where the southern cities had accepted force use as natural, much of the northern villages had seen it was witchcraft. It took the Confederacy to change their mind.

These were priests of the Sith, something dark. Yet, like all Sith they had their own motives and aspirations. If the Emperor did not trust them, then neither did the wolf. While his opinion about Darth Carnifex was beginning to differ, this was one area where they agreed completely.

The more harm they do to the Kainite the better.

Even with the threat against worlds which came under the banner of the Order, this attack would be used to thin the herd, so to speak. The Kainite grew uncontrollably on the holy worlds, and it seemed that Empyrean would take advantage of the situation that faced them now. Everything could be used to gain the upper hand. It was something the wolf was learning from the Dead God. While the corpse was not his master, Gerwald took lessons wherever he could find them. It was how he had grown while remaining masterless for so long.

He nodded.

“As you command.”

His answer was concise, and his movement swift. In the short seconds which followed his response the former Lord Commander had already put distance between himself and Empyrean. This was not a mission which required a berserker, rather Gerwald had been asked to stalk and hunt like the wolf he was. Leaping into the air, the Lupo shifted, something the Emperor had seen before on a few occasions, but the priest who remained stood there with his mouth agape.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

V E R S U S

Quinn Varanin

New Kaas City
Iron-Blood Training Facility
​

“I have had my FILL of talk!” He cut his vibroblade through the air, rain pinging off its humming length. His throat constricted, fury and grief in a counterspin that turned faster and faster, hooking around each other until they birthed a funnel of unadulterated wrath, whipping through his heart like a cleansing storm and leaving room for naught else.

Booted footsteps splashed through puddles of blood as Tydeus paced back and forth before her, gesturing madly with his blade.

“Here? Here?!" He shook his head in disbelief and let out an insane chuckle and ran a hand up his cheek, pushing aside a strand of raven hair clinging to his face in the rain. He felt a foreign warmth on his cheek and realized it had been the hand coated in gore, now smeared across half his face. His lips curled in a snarl.

"Why are YOU here! If you heard what the Kainate did then you should join me. Put your powers to use.”

He seethed, emotions roiling and strung out, so taut he felt as if he would snap apart.

A gust of wind howled between them and whipped at the locks of her hair, pale as moonlight in the shadow of the storm. A fist around his heart squeezed until he physically felt the ache. Lightning flickered overhead, zig-zagging through the black clouds, as brilliant and bright as it was brief.

His pacing stopped. Tydeus let his head tilt back into the rain as he stared up at the clouds above. He felt warm trickles running down his face along with the rain. He didn't know if it was blood or tears.

I thought I left all my tears on Tion.

Bloodshot eyes turned to Quinn and a groan of despair tugged from his lips.

Why, why, WHY. ​

Why did it have to be her.

The heir to ashes hung his head. Almost too softly to hear above the storm, he rasped, "Do I have to kill you too?"

Bernard | Rik Perris | Sera Rosh​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: New Kaas City //:
//: Darth Carnifex //:

The chanting was something she'd never get used to. Despite the religious origins of the Jedi, Allyson couldn't wrap her head around it all. To her, the Force was a tool, one to be used to do what was necessary for the good of the whole. Allyson brought her hands to her ears, letting them hover slightly under the cloak's hood. The Force silenced the chanting, allowing her a moment of peace.

She hated the chanting. It was a grim reminder that she had lost.

Rituals aside, it wasn't all bad. As odd as it was to accept, Allyson felt at home. Maybe it was the path she was always supposed to follow, yet she could refuse the dark side. Allyson's mulling was interrupted by Carnifex's arrival. He spoke to someone, and they quickly left, leaving the Corellian and the Sith alone. Allyson pushed off and left the protection of the shadows, shimmering into view. She figured He knew she was there lurking, it was her nature.

"They're Jedi," she spoke, letting the word of her former brethren spill like a foreign concept. "I didn't think they'd be so brash." Allyson finished as she found a place a few steps behind Carnifex. "Doesn't seem like the Alliance's style, too small, too violent." Could this be a rogue unit of Jedi? The thought wouldn't be a surprise; Jedi fractures happened as often as Sith's do. Despite the Jedi's code being more prone to working as a whole, it didn't prevent people from thinking their way was right.

Something in the back of her mind wondered if this was the work of the Jedi she knew. Almost a flutter of hope caused her twin hearts to skip a beat, but reality soon set in. Those Jedi didn't exist anymore. They had either hung up their sabers and leather jackets or were buried with the rest of the fallen.

Lowering her hood, she watched the landscape before them. "Do you have any idea who they are and where they came from?" Allyson wanted answers, and right now, only He could answer them. His presence was felt throughout the city, something she had only experienced in combat.

 

[Henna Ashina]

W A R D E N
Allies: Kornon | Enemies: Ohois Qhut'eol

Trepidation was a fool’s companion, one Henna may have kept in years past. The Seer was no sword born of a master’s craft. Hers had been an arduous journey, drilling with one Ashina or another nigh on two decades to gain even a semblance of prowess they came by naturally. Kornon’s presence was a reminder of that weakness, every word uttered backed by strength. Yet, his offer fanned the flames inside her, zeal infectious. There was no fear of peril. It was a necessary gambit, to gain her fellow soldiers trust, so she could offer council in the future; and if it failed, and should she fall in battle, then let them raise her a martyr to accompany them home to Tython.


“Shatter them.” Their mutual sentiment was a mercy upon themselves.

Falling upon the earth with a graceful roll, the seer stood to examine the city around them. A perfectly constructed paradise. Steel amongst the vines was unnatural, their city as parasitic as they. The strike team’s ship, now unmanned, spiraled wildly to the surface to make its objections known. Examination of the nearest edifice revealed an ebony banner hung above the threshold.

“Do with them as they have done our temples and homes.” The master suggested to her fellow.

The first blaze rose by her own hand. The drizzle attempted to sour the effort, but persistence saw it through. Scorched earth was a tactic strategic to their cause. Yet as golden orbs watched flame lick up the side of the fabric, a smugness set about her. The persistence of Tydeus of Tion had awoken her own slumbering wrath. It howled, a beast caged, yet ever present, empathetic the young man’s cause. Her home had been lost, too; another, tarnished forever.

Something beyond copoereal alarmed the seer of encroaching darkness. The scarlet blade igniting sent a screech of dissonance through the force. Cyan answered the challenge whilst her neck snapped in the direction.

“With me.” She requested of the senior Barabel. “We have smoked one out.”

With haste, they fell upon the direction, rounding corners until they came in contact with the alien. Bogan’s malevolence wafted him with the stench of decay.

“You stand outnumbered.” The consular reasoned on approach. “Stand down, and we shall grant you the grace of the light with a clean death.”

 

[Kornon]

Henna Ashina Ohois Qhut'eol
​

His guardians did their work, cleaving through the disorganized security forces. Even still, the more time they spent here the greater the resistance to them. Kornon pushed the front, fighting through the (occasionally concrete) jungle, closer to the city's heart. But as their allies peeled to contend with more dangerous foes, so too was he drawn into a new battle.

Alongside Master Ashina, he forged onwards through trees and roads, finding a familiar foe awaiting them, red saber steaming in the rain. Even in this darkened place, the Krevaaki was a blight on his senses, more wretched and evil than all that surrounded them.

"This one knows him. Careful," he warned Henna. Their last encounter had been brief, and dangerous -- but even having clashed before, Kornon did not know the true extent of the Sith's abilities.

"Your escape from Jakku was your dark luck," he called. "Today, it is the mercy of death. Fight it, prolong it -- it comes all the same. As sure as the rising of the sun."

 

[Kinoan]

Allies: Henna Ashina | Kornon | Kaleleon
Enemies: Ohois Qhut'eol

The Imperial Knight followed the other Jedi as they jumped out of the vessel.

Kinoan kept his lightsaber connected to his belt for now, opting for a more streamlined approached towards the surface. The grey and black battle armor he donned stood out in comparison to the cloaks his companions wore, but it would help him blend into the city. Looks did not matter if they were on the same team.

It had been some time since he fought alongside other Jedi. With the Empire becoming a shell of its former self, it was time to find new avenues in the war against the Sith. He would stop at nothing until every person that dared carry a red blade was six feet under. The Sith destroyed his only true family, and they would pay.

Landing with a thud, the man stood up straight to assess his surroundings. The other rush off as he quickly followed. It was not long before they had run into one of the Sith warriors. The group moved to corner him preventing escape. It was only when the three of them blocked off his escape that Kinoan finally unclipped his saber. With a hiss the pure white beam shot to life, it’s humming echoing like a chorus of angels.

Yet they were not here to offer safe passage into the next life, but to make sure that the receiver of the blade’s edge was purged of all evil within. To never again cause an atrocity that would harm countless.

“Speak Bogan, so that your final words may be cut down like the life you cling so dearly to.”

 

[Xeykard]

Shinzou Ashina Stennis Fel (?) | Kyric Inosuke Ashina
​

A monumental failure.

Xeykard, now the Grand Inquisitor, leader of the Saaraishash, watched the failures cascade. Stealth freighters slipping the entire defense fleet, planetary defenses, and into the city. By every metric the Lightsworn shouldn't have been able to get here. Every projection told it would take weeks, months for them to be ready for an attack. And here, at the heart of the Dark Lord's domain? There they were, wreaking havoc.

He could not have known. But it did not change the fact that he should have. Then he would be prepared. He would be winning.

The command centre of the Dark Lord's palace was ablaze with activity. Reports were abound, communications officers working overtime trying to manage the scattered security forces and legionnaires. Even in this militarized, policed city, the Sith were faring poorly; there was a difference between an intimidating patrol and a force meant to hold back invaders.

Even in his position of command, Xeykard was not the one leading this defense -- Commandant Khopwar had come with orders, "By His Will", and was directing their forces to draw the Jedi deeper into the city, spread their lines, in anticipation for the Dark Lord's counterattack.

In the past, Xeykard would have awaited that triumphant moment, rode out with the Dark Lord, basked in his shadow. The expectations for the Grand Inquisitor were different. He had to be proactive -- had to gain. When his agents reported back to him, he took his leave of the command centre, and ventured into the field.

Victories were no longer attention-grabbing but mandatory. The work had not changed, but the weight had. He had to prove his strength. The Dark Lord's gift still coursed through his veins, and it was time to use it.

He followed one of the Sith assassins in his employ, the pair dark blurs through the rainy streets of Kaas. In minutes they were at the front lines, watching legionnaires and Sith being felled. Some foolish acolytes and warriors had decided now was their moment of glory -- and instead threw themselves on Jedi sabers.

Ashina and his strike team had made rapid progress to the outer gates of the palace; one of many such extravagant checkpoints. The front held, but only for now, as Imperial soldiers sprung from their drop pods to assist the Jedi's attack. To see that cooperation brought old memories back. They were not good. The years he'd spent encircled by the Imperials, fighting every day and night, only to barely escape...

His gaze locked first on the Imperial Knight. Then, the flitting shadow, somehow a reminder of one who once stood tall in the Light. Ashina, then, leading the pack, and his kinsman, the one-eyed.

The last, just barely lagging behind, had the bad luck of the day. The only indication of the two Sith's approach was the splashes of rain against their forms. The assassin leapt in high, brandishing long daggers, but it was Xeykard who would strike first, cutting from the one-eyed Ashina's blind spot in a quick but wide strike at his torso.

 

[Ohois Qhut'eol]

Kinoan Kornon Henna Ashina

With the crimson blade in hand, Darth Grosnais began to align himself with the shifting currents of the Force that surrounded him, sensing the destruction and chaos in the city as lives were extinguished and innocent bystanders fell victim to the conflict.

He comprehended the reason behind the force summoning him to this place - not to analyze the minor areas of Ashlan Light, but to serve as a steadfast protector of their grand design to keep the light and dark in equal balance.

If Dromund Kaas were to be heavily destroyed by the invaders, it would disrupt the equilibrium, leading to a strengthening of the light while weakening the darkness.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching the Krevaaki was known, diverting their attention from the formerly busting street corners and market stalls in New Kaas City. It would seem that the force had lead a small Jedi Strike Team to his location, their intentions made clear to strike him down.

The initial member of the team was a female jedi Henna Ashina , whose strength and power remained unknown to him. Following her was a Trandoshan Kornon , whom he had encountered before on Jakku and whose species possessed formidable strength.

Lastly, there was a former Imperial Knight Kinoan , identified by their distinctive force signature.

"Perhaps you should study your own scriptures, Lords of the Light. There is no death, there is only the force."

He uttered, entering into Form III lightsaber stance, holding the blade back in a one-handed grip, angled forward with the blade arm held parallel, the other hand held up in challenge.

The Krevaaki were known for their peaceful nature, focusing on their studies rather than combat or violence. And so, the Dark Lord dedicated himself to mastering the defensive lightsaber form, which would prove to be highly effective against numerous adversaries.

​

 

[Alaric]

ALLIES: Strike Team Tanith | Amalasuntha L'lerim | Thelar Grayson | Heinrich Faust | Fallon Draellix-Kobitana
ENEMIES: OPEN | Come at me

​

The door of the dropship opened to reveal the scene below. One by one the Jedi had dropped into the streets and begun a killing spree. It would have felt wrong did I not see the overwhelming sight of red sabers bursting to life in the rain. This was a society of Sith, a city of pure evil and illness. For all the Ashlan Crusade had done in their attempts to suppress the Dark Side nexus of this world, it was all for naught. The Sith had dug their claws in once again, worse than before. New Kaas City was a triumphal affront to the Light.

My boots hit the soaked pavement running, my blade still tucked in my robe. I was fighting the urge to draw my weapon, though I knew my pacificist streak would have to end today.

~ Are you sure you're ready for this, Al? ~ I asked Alaric worriedly.

I reached telepathically through the Force to my sister so that I could answer her question,

~ In truth, sister, no. But destiny doesn't wait for one to be ready. ~

As Strike Force Tanith moved quickly, I knew it was now or never. I reached to my belt, unclipping the saber hilt, and igniting the sapphire blade. I took a deep breath, feeling the Force, searching for the Light within even though the aura of this world was frighteningly Dark. I drew my saber up close to my body in a defensive position, feeling its heat on my body, letting it become and extension of me not as a weapon but as a shield. To center one's being was a powerful art of the Jedi, aligning oneself with the Light inside, ready to stand against all odds.

I wasn't sure I had it in me to kill indiscriminately like some of the others that had come on this raid, but I knew that I could at least stand unwavering as a testament to Jedi strength against the Sith. They might have tried to take my life, but through oneness with the Force, through balance and harmony, even a place as hostile as Dromund Kaas would be unable to overcome me...

​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He'd felt Allyson's eyes on Him long before she made herself known, an old habit of their time before. The Dark Lord slipped on the Gauntlet of Moridin the Great, tightened the straps that affixed it around His hand and forearm. The artifact radiated with malice, an entity distinct from His own coiling within the darkened metal. The last vestiges of Moridin's spirit lingered within, fragmented whispers spinning a broken tapestry of violence and ambition. His former mentor had fallen far, but the Dark Lord never once abandoned His admiration of the great Emperor, nor would He think of doing so in the future.

"They are not of the Alliance," answered the Dark Lord, flexing the fingers of His armored hand one by one. "They are rogues, extremists, wayward ronin. They come like moths to the flame I had lit on Tion, fractured from their fellow Jedi for their blind convictions." He laughed, a short and bitter one. His inspection of His gauntlet complete, the Dark Lord turned to look at Allyson with His smoldering eyes. "But they are not all uniform. There are Ashlan visionaries out there in the cold and dark, champion a long-passed creed that buckled under the weight of it's own iniquities. Beside them are broken things, men and women who could not come to terms with the loss of Tython or the death of Tion. They indulge in the Dark Side without realizing they do so."

"But they all believe in the same thing, Allyson, that violence is power. The pettiest acts, the most debased vindications of personal power. That is what you are witnessing. They scour the earth with terror and blood, because they think that alone can salvage the barest scrap of agency in their otherwise mangled destinies. But they have no true agency, they merely ride the whirlwind; they do not master it. Violence is only an aspect of true power, Allyson. Even the Ashlans among their rank have forgotten that true power is anchored by devotion, not of your own, but of those who pledge themselves to you at the cost of their very lives."

His eyes looked up to one of the guardsmen flanking the door, one of His own Crownguard. In a stern, commanding voice, the Dark Lord said; "Kill yourself." Without hesitation, the guard unsheathed his lightsaber and pressed the emitter up against his chin. A moment later, his body crumpled to the floor. A cleaning crew would come to retrieve the body soon enough, but for the time being he would lay where he had fallen. "The Ashlan Crusade collapsed in on itself because their devotion was hollow, it could not sustain itself under duress. These Jedi you see out there are nothing more than the last remnants of an order long disbanded. They walk around as though they live, not realizing they've already died."

The Dark Lord extended His hand towards Allyson, beckoning her to take it. "Come with me, and I will show you the truth of my words."

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: New Kaas City //:
//: Tydeus of Tion //:

Today I'm you're enemy, but I once was your friend

There was no going back from where they were. Tydeus's mania and grief began to win. His words were sharp as he spat at her; she stepped back, almost physically feeling the daggers that lined his voice. Quinn felt helpless. Guilty that she hadn't gone to Tion, she thought maybe if she had gone, she could have helped save his family or stop the travesty that had happened.

But who was she? Quinn wasn't Ashin or Spencer. What ounce of power did she have to stop Tion from burning? The young Prince's pain was a grim reminder that she was nothing more than a pretty doll.

Quinn pushed her problems aside and focused on Tydeus. His pacing and frantic words couldn't be ignored. He was beyond manic, driven by only his rage and pain. She could feel the darkness in him growing. He was walking down a path she knew he would regret. If he was with the Jedi who had come to the surface, if he fell and tasted the dark side, death would only await him.

Once more, his words cut into her, slapping her into reality that she couldn't do anything. "This is my home, Tydeus." The Princess answered finally, "I'm here because I'm a citizen of the Empire." It was true; she had gone to the academy to follow in Ashin's footsteps. Quinn believed that if she couldn't rule Eshan - the Empire was her rightful place.

His face darkened. The lightning cracking through the sky, breaking the clouds above them, was the only way she could see his grim and monstrous look. Tydeus had made his choice, and there was no going back. Her fingers wrapped gently around the hilt of her blade, but it remained undrawn. This was her friend, someone she had once been close to, and she failed him.

There was no hiding his intent or his pain; Quinn felt everything and could feel her throat tighten.

One of them wasn't going to be leaving New Kaas City today…

"Tydeus, you don't have to do this…please," her voice strained as her hand gripped the lightsaber's hilt tighter. "You don't want to walk down this path - once you do…there's no going back. Tydeus…please."

 

[Kyric]

A SWORD-FORGED ANEW
The Kid
Blade Runner

​

An ethereal warning pierced Kyric's chest like any icy spear the instant QK-2510 leveled their blaster on him. He followed the sensation back to the source, a Jet Trooper, who already fired thrice. Kyric leaped from the roof to put himself out of the way of the shot, only to see the candy-red bullets begin to trace his pathing through the sky. His saber snap-hissed too late to stop all three. He managed to bat the first aside, reverse his grip, and catch the second, but the third and final shot whipped around his saber.

Kyric had enough presence of mind to twist and put his jacket between himself and the worst of the shot. Unfortunately, the additional concussive power afforded to the rifle saw the bolt burst on contact and launch the boy further out into the open sky.

"Argh!" Kyric rolled with the momentum of his flight and got his feet beneath him in time for a rolling landing on a lower rooftop. "Hoo-wee that smarts!" He patted the blackened portion of his jacket. This wasn't the first time his father's war-time ingenuity saved him. And it probably wouldn't be the last.

QK-2510's position and firepower put the boy at something of a disadvantage. He considered the image of Kaas City's skyline perfectly etched into his eidetic memory. The high-reaching star scrapers and open sky lanes would further the Jet Troopers' advantage.

Running for the edge of the roof, Kyric drew his HEAVILY MODIFIED WESTAR-34 from the holster on his right thigh and fired two shots at QK-2510. The first was purely a distraction, meant to catch her attention and delay her chase, while the second traveled in the shadow of the first toward her rifle's magazine.

Kyric stepped onto the ledge and jumped. His body soared through the open air for a brief reprieve before he crashed through a window into the opposite building. He hit the floor and blurred across what appeared to be an apartment. Screams echoed behind him, likely from the family he so rudely terrified, but the kiffar didn't have time to stop. He dashed out into the hall and ran down its length to another window. He fired a single shot, shattering it, and launched himself out onto a passing speeder.

It made great headway toward Vornskr Square instead of his actual target, but Kyric had bigger issues than course correction.

Baddie #1: QK-2510
Baddie to Come: Capris Halcyon

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

V E R S U S

Quinn Varanin

New Kaas City,
Iron-Blood Training Facility
​

Laughter greeted her words, or a form of it, more akin to the sick barking of an abused animal than any human noise. The sort captured prion-apes in menageries made as they bashed their skulls against the plasteel walls of their cage. Only Tydeus' cage was not of corporeal form, but fashioned from wrought-wroth made manifest.

My family were citizens once too of a kind, loyal to the Sith, in one form or another... look at us now, repaid in full.

He grew still again, shaking his head.

"There is no other way. You won't help me, even when you know my cause is righteous."

Tydeus pointed with his sword at the corpses of the Iron-Bloods.

"How many do you think they killed in the name of their god? How many innocents? How many children? How many more worlds have to burn before you open your eyes?"

A crash of thunder rocked the heavens. From the gates of the training center figures emerged into the storm, no doubt drawn by the absence of their dead brothers' communications. Tydeus threw a glance over his shoulder toward them as they cautiously approached down the steps, weapons raised.

"No, I don't think you will. You're blind, just like the rest of them. I'm not here to convince you. Stay out of my way or this won't be your home..."

Chin tilted down, he looked up at her through the caliginous curtain of his awry, storm-tossed hair.

"...it will be your grave."

Turning on his heel, Tydeus stalked toward the cluster of soldiers on the stairs, centering his mind. Some people thought you had to be clear of emotions, that was wrong. You just had to be single-minded in focus. And in that regard, Tydeus' thoughts were as clear as crystal, fixated solely upon revenge. In an eyeblink, he burst toward them - seemingly as fast as a Jedi in his movements. The trained eye would recognize the motions as that of Teräs Käsi, the way of the Steel Hand, and like a steel hand, Tydeus shattered those before him as he would vases of glass. His movements swift, ferocious, . . . ruthless, leaving Quinn to face her choice.

Bernard | Rik Perris | Sera Rosh​

 

[Bernard]

​

Dromund Kaas, Kaas City
Separated from Strike Team Treicolt
PoV: Bernard of Arca, formerly the Sentinel of Harmony. Now the ...

SWORD OF THE JEDI​

​

Death descended upon Kaas city in the hue of cyan.

A squad of dead troopers lay at Bernard's feet. Their patrol walker burned on the side of the road, broken in two pieces, its durasteel frame still glowed where the lightsaber had cut.

He continued his march, extending his senses outward through the Force. Pockets of light flared throughout the city, closeby and further ahead.

The street he walked was a smaller road that continued straight and narrow toward a large plaza or square without a soul to be seen on that entire stretch of permacrete. The Sith troopers' friends would be coming, they rarely operated on their own and without superior numbers. He'd likely caught the earlier group off guard.

Bernard watched the windows above him as he walked. Scared faces met his eyes and quickly ducked back to safety. He could sense their fear, how it radiated from them and how it pooled in the streets, sweeping them like the rain. He wondered what their stories about him would be.

They would cast him as a murderer, surely. His own allies had done so, a long time ago. These people knew his kind well, and they would have better words to describe the ones who'd razed their worlds before.

The ones who'd raze them again.

---

PoV: Maro Vancil
Formerly a military sensors technician in the outer regions of Sith space within the Stygian Caldera. Now jobless on Dromund Kaas.

Dromund Kaas, Vornskr Square
Several blocks away from the Jedi's point of incursion

//OOC: Trying my hand at some storytelling that's novel to me here, no slights intended to our Sith writer brethren and sisters

​

He stepped onto the square, cautiously. He didn't look around, walking more by memory toward one of the vendor stalls. In front of him, two men discussed the latest news. Tall men who made no use of Basic with their tongues. Ahead of them came the sizzling of meat on the vendor's grill. Beyond that the plaza seemed quiet. The droning of the drill reverbereted through the ground. Its noise carried far.

Maro stared at the duracrete tiles at his feet, still curling his fingers tight around the crumpled up plastic bag. There was a dread building in him.

Hunger had given him bravery enough to come this far. While he'd walked the streets, starving and listening to the grumbling in his stomach, his mind had quieted. But here he stood still. He hated silence. He hated the thoughts it brought.

Maro dug into his pocket. His fingers tangled with a cord until they brushed against the small earphones. He grasped them and brought them up to his ears. Three brief taps to the songpad in his other pocket and the loud thrums of heavy isotope quieted his mind.

The two men had gone, he noted. He no longer saw their feet in his peripheral vision. A glance around confirmed they'd gone.

He took two brief steps to the vendor's glasteel front, rasping a breath from his lungs to clear his throat. He held up two fingers without looking up and stepped aside to wait, prim and orderly.

He shivered. Habit still clawed his being back into the customs of proper imperialism.

He tapped the songpad to increase the volume.

Capris Halcyon Kyric