BLACKOUT (Galactic Alliance Invasion of the One Sith held Coruscant.)

[Tydeus of Tion]

Location: Steps of the Sith Temple
Ally: [member="Marcello Matteo"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"]
Equipment: in character sheet

Another thrust came toward Korr’s abdomen and he could not but trust to his combat armor. The bar of verdant flame struck the overlapping lamellar plates of synthmesh backed spunplast and would have melted through them like a knife through hot butter if not for the spun cortosis fibers woven throughout the material.

Even so, Ryan felt the searing heat as the blade skittered across the armor in a spray of sparks, leaving a char-black furrow the width of two fingers. A second or two more of prolonged contact and the saber might burn through if it didn’t short out. Fortunately, the Force push separated the pair of combatants.

The Jedi took a step back, an impassive gaze watching the Sith tumble down the steps, tossed from the summit, just as they would all be torn down from their high places. A grim sense of satisfaction rose within Ryan’s heart.

“I’ve waited long for this moment, Sith.”

A flick of the switch and his longhandled blade winked out of existence. He clipped the unwieldy weapon back to his belt. Unlike Kaine, this foe sported no heavy armor. His tactics would have to adjust. He removed a pair of nearly identical cylinders, one smaller than the other.

The shoto he clutched in his left hand, the lightsaber he held in the other. Both sabers flared to life, blue as the sky.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Forward Command
Medical Center
Triage

Rescue teams buzzed in and out, bringing new bodies and victims with every trip. Avalore took a moment during a lull in the minor injuries room to whisk a bottle of water and peer in on the adjoining areas. It was then that the call came in: building collapse, multiple people caught in the debris. Dozens badly injured, several high risk.

Clear the emergency rooms, they were bringing them in.

"Ysan? Ysan!" the young Padawan from the Ossus temple had grown up in the years she'd been away. A Knight Healer now, a young lady, short blond hair and pale green eyes wide in the excitement of the situation, "Take over minor wounds, I'm sending a Nurse in to help you. Move people through quickly, don't expend too much energy, got it?"

"Got it," said the Knight. Avalore gave her a firm push into the room to clear her out of the way of the incoming field soldiers. Several helped along people with arms slung over their shoulders. Another team pushed in a stretcher with an unconscious Alliance soldier aboard.

"Pulled this one out of the rubble, vitals stable but weak. Scans picked up multiple fractures-"

"I'll take this one, send the others to triage three and four, they have more empty rooms. Rici, with me, help me push..." Avalore flagged down a Nautolan Healer nearby and the pair quickly shuffled off with the soldier on his stretcher, "remove the armor while I get the supplies."

"What do I do with it? Master Eden?"

"Just...just make a pile in the corner. Quickly now."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Location: Temple of the Sith.
Objective: Cleanse
Allies: [member="Ryan Korr"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

Several things happened very quickly after the repulsive blast of energy erupted from the core of Marcello's being. Not one to suffer the inefficiencies that he so very often preached about during his training of others, Ryan Korr included, the Jedi Master set his feet to purpose immediately following the Force Repulse. He'd taken perhaps four and a half steps before the world seemingly went black. The abrupt change did cause Marcello to falter slightly, shifting his focus of his target.

The punishment for his momentary lapse in focus came immediately. He'd just barely felt the flinch in the force coming from Ophidia before it took full control of his body. Similar to her prior situation, there was little he could to stop the action once it had started. Rather than waste energy trying to resist the strength of the Sith Lord, Marcello allowed it to carry him towards the nearest solid wall. Just prior to impact, he manipulated his own cocoon of energy around him to help cushion the blow. It was a technique very similar to what he'd done to remain conscious when Darth Shara had tried to slap his body around the steps of the Jedi Temple like a rag doll.

Still, it was by no means a perfect effect, and it was all the Jedi Master could do to maintain a hold of his weapon throughout the ordeal and not cut off his last organic leg. Before his body could crash to the ground, Marcello manipulated the Force once more to cushion the impact. The moment his skin touched stone, the Guardian vaulted to his feet. Glacier-blue eyes burned not with hatred or pain, though he definitely felt one of those coursing through his right side, but with determination. From his left hand, a large torrent of searing white light erupted forth towards Ophidia. The strength and power of the light side reached out, cutting through the darkness and seeking to purge the power of the dark side from its immediate area as the Jedi Master advanced towards the Sith Lord.

He was painfully aware that a battle of force skills would likely only leave them both exhausted and without resolution. Today...Marcello would live or die by the blade.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Location: Valley
Tags: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Break"]
Direct Conversation: [member="Jake Daniels"]

A Jedi. He almost twitched at the implication, the idea that he was a Jedi. Was he? He couldn't recall the line between what he was and what that might be, the fuzzy blur that once seemed so defined. When he had taken to flight, from beneath the bowels of Selvaris to escape the Wrath, to the moment he landed on Sullust. Even when released from the prison, when following the path of redemption, he had never considered himself as such. Omai Rhen even offered him the position he now holds, as Marshall, and he returned it. All because he wasn't a Jedi. But when he accepted the offer from Jacen, did he also accept that title?

No, he didn't deserve to be a Jedi. He was far from the likes of Jacen and Avalore and the others who had obtained their rank through a life of sacrifice and good will and mental refinement. He stumbled upon this prowess, like a child finding gold in the river, and was doing the best he could with it. On the accolades of Reverance, he sought to make things better. But that didn't make him a Jedi, not like the others. If he was, he might not have failed on Lujo.

Absentmindedly rubbing the jagged scars of crucifixion against his palms, he furrowed his brow. So far, the Sith had remained true and in all things, he saw the chance for atonement. As he had learned with [member="Cerusia Darke"], not all that was dark deserved condemnation. It was in this way that he and the Alliance differed.

"No. I am no Jedi." He said with a calm exhalation, knowing the answer might provide as much confusion as clarification. But it was the truth, one spoken with the echo Avalores voice in his mind. Jedi fought battles of temptation with the darkside, choosing the higher path. The lower path was blocked for Gabe, he had no choice but to be guided by the lightside. "But I do cherish momentary peace, as all who are without corruption should."

He glanced upwards towards the dark nights sky of Coruscant, the stars in the distance. He had never seen them from the planet though in another life, he couldn't recall the desire to even consider it. Constellations and shooting stars, asteroids along the horizon, it felt peaceful. But for the explosions of the cityscape in the foray, the sounds of death and the sinking feeling of loss that seemed to charge the nexus. It swelled with all the chaos and mayhem, like a celestial black hole. Consuming and consuming. It felt like a cold burning star, stuck in the wake of a vacuum.

"I don't search for benefit for myself, but for others. That is why hope for peace far outweighs notions of glory and war." That was something his brother might have wanted, before dying in the fires of Selvaris. It was said the Wrath was consumed by the planet, before the fall of the Emperor himself. Looking back towards the knight, Gabe squinted an eye in thought. "Why are you here, Jake?" He wasn't close to this man, but he wouldn't acknowledge the title given by the Sith. It held no value, in his eyes.

He was stuck here, for the time being. He would make the best of his time, ever vigilant of the treachery and lack of control that lied forever attached to the darkside. A beast, lurking beneath the still-glass waters of a calm lake. He had seen it too many times before, through the sideways glances of rosy eyes and a pale complexion.

 

[IT-88]

Location: Senate Building Atrium
Enemies: [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Kyber Salurra"] others
Allies: [member="Soeht"] others
Gear in Bio

88 and the rest of the 12th movies into the atrium to meet immediate resistance from a very strong Jedi female. They had indeed been caught in the middle of two Alliance units, 'Kark!' But the worst was yet to come as the Jedi slew a handful of comrades in seconds.

The Jedi threw 88 and a few others across the room with the mystical Force. A crack was left in the wall where he hit, leaving the suspicion that's was far heavier than he looked. Slumping to his knees from the impact, 88 looked up and returned fire to the Jedi and her forces.

"Regroup!", yelled the commander, "Take cover!" The Stormtroopers scattered for cover and began to return fire to both sides of the Alliance pincer.

"Grenades!!" A handful of Thermals left the entrenched troopers and blew sections of the area to bits. A few Alliance troopers were caught in the blast, but not enough to give them the edge.

88 sprinted for the Jedi, firing his Corvus battle rifle. He knew she'd be able to deflect the majority of his shots at least. Dodging the rest for sure, what with her Mystical Force powers. 88's receptors narrowed as he ran, aiming for kinks in her armor. Hoping to at least force her back, allowing his unit to set up a counter offensive. Should he get close enough, he'd engage her in CQC, not the best idea, but hey, war was hell, right?

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Westport Starport, Roof
Current Objective: Secure a Landing Zone
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Astarii Saren"]
Enemies: The One Sith | [member="Blazing Eye"] | @Abelain Nar’vuk

The alien - Sal didn’t recognize the species - leapt into a diving roll and narrowly avoided the scattergun’s blast. Katarn turned his torso, swinging the pistol around to try and get a bead on the devil.

Before Sal finished the motion, the fella swung something low across the ground. The length of fiber wrapped twice around Katarn’s leg before he felt the sharp and unexpected pain of a grappling hook digging into the flesh of his calf. The alien gave a swift tug on the line that dragged Sal off his feet and sent him sprawling to the ground.

“Mmf,” he grunted, back hitting the roof’s surface hard. Sal managed to keep ahold of his pistol and - aiming from the ground - he pulled the trigger to send another cluster of slugs for the fella’, not too particular about where they hit.

 

[Aver Brand]

Forward Command
Medical Centre
Triage
[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Avalore Eden"]

Blackout, as it turned out, wasn’t terribly interesting. Some claimed to have vivid dreams while under. Others were plagued by similarly realistic nightmares. Aver, she experienced none of that. It was just black. Pitch dark, sunless, and very, very empty.

It wasn’t her first rodeo this side of consciousness, and given the faint ache all across her right side, it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. After a while in this business of hers, the merc had established a clear definition for herself of where life ended and death began. The line, in her mind, was a bright red, and it was still far off in the distance. She’d danced closer and very nearly crossed it on numerous other occasions, but her body was as stubborn as they came.

Today would be no different.

Perception bled back in bits and pieces. A flash of mottled white. A woman’s voice, strong and carrying. Nervous, gloved hands, picking under her armor like hungry insects. The kiss of cold air against sweaty skin. The sound of a zipper.

Aver jerked up, winced, and collapsed flat against the thin material of the stretcher. The right half of her torso was crawling with countless pinpricks, hot as the fires of Netherworld. They stabbed and bit and jabbed, upsetting the bruised flesh and broken bone underneath. The pain, however, settled over her more like a blanket rather than a debilitating spike that would send her back out cold.

Truth be told, she wished it had. But a body got used to war and abuse, and it refused to succumb to the agony piercing the bludgeoned muscle.

She gnashed her teeth, tasted iron and salt. Familiar. Aver took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and dug the fingers of her good arm into the mattress.

“How’s it look?”

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[SIZE=9pt]Location: Temple of the Sith.
Objective: Defend.
Allies: [member="Darth Pyrrhus"] .
Enemies: [member="Ryan Korr"] , [member="Marcello Matteo"] (Engaging).[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Gear:

Spoiler

[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Armour[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt].[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Rudis[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt].[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Tsaisibola[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] & [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Nagajj[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]2x curved hilt lightsabres.
Standard issue vibrodagger.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]

[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Darkness swallowed their surroundings as the power went out. Every feature of the world around them merged into a singular nothingness. This suited the Pale Assassin perfectly, she had ways of seeing in the dark an even more ways of remaining unseen in these conditions despite the damaged stealth field generator. However, much to her dismay, the darkness was soon split by a piercing light. Darth Ophidia recoiled with a subdued hiss as the light touched her form. She knew what it was and that charging into it was to accept a great weakness. One she would rather not accept. Instead, the Sith Lord stepped back, slinking out of the radius of the light and back into the shadowy recesses outside its influence, keeping her free right hand ready to counter any measures to prevent her from moving.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Looking over to her Rudis, she could see smoke rising from the dark blade as it suffered under the influence of the light. A sneer pulled on her lips behind the cover of her helm. Light of the Force was the death of their sorceries. She knew she would one day have to find a counter.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Tadi an ki, ki nutnusi, Tsaisibola.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]As she whispered the words, a serpentine form slithered down her leg, emerging from the hem of her robes. The Tsaisibola was not of the Force but deadly none the less, her vongspawned pet. With a swoop of her left hand she let the tsaisi climb onto her arm and adopt its active camouflage against the dark hues she wore.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]With her retreat, she tried to lure the Jedi with her away from the duel between the Togruta and the half-Vahla. In the deep recesses of the Temple of the Sith, she would have a certain advantage. These halls were familiar to her as she had spent a decade wandering them. Darkness was no enemy to the Sith Assassins.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Come, come. Strike me down, Jedi. I am within your grasp; my sword is lost. Imagine the lives you spare, think of the children.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Her voice was ripe with mockery.[/SIZE]

 

[Jake Daniels]

Area: Valley
Direct Conversation: [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]
Tags: [member="Break"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

The Knights mind worked in overdrive. Scrutinizing every word that escaped the mans mouth. There was no intent to try and debate this man. No intent to try and argue. That was not what this meeting was about. It was to understand something Jake had never come across in his decades walking the galaxy, and obvious centuries asleep in it. A man whom stood side by side with a Jedi but was not one himself. Then he had to be Sith? No. The aura of darkness that permeated this area, that radiated from Gravis, did not match Gabe. To Jake, Gabe felt like a void.

Again, naturally weaker when it came to force prowess, the Knight could only feel the presence of another when they were close. This meant any skilled practitioner of the force would be able to sense Jake without a cloak held by a Shamalain before he would them. Did this make him weak? Far from it. His Lady Silencia had instilled the proper training to ensure the Knight was always prepared for the eventuality of an assassins attack. Jake lived among the Noghri for decades after all. They were more than willing to help with that regard. Yet Jake could still feel within proximity and he couldn't feel Gabe or if he could then his mind couldn't register it. The man had experienced light. He had experienced dark. He hadn't experienced... this.

"I don't search for benefit for myself, but for others. That is why hope for peace far outweighs notions of glory and war."

All Gabe was doing was continuing to pique the interest of the Knight. Like a gem among a the muddy banks of a river, this non-Jedi caught this Knights eye. There had to be more about him. 'Diplomat?' That was a possibility. He spoke of peace. He displayed as such. 'Peace envoy?' Not likely. A Peace envoy would have shown up if the battle drew in stalemate. 'Personal guard?' Another possibility. Perhaps he was secretly a guard to the other Jedi? Not a high possibility but anything was plausible. 'What was he, if not Jedi nor Sith?'

Then Gabe turned the conversation on Jake, "Why are you here, Jake?"

Few called Jake by his birth name. Few. In fact, four, in total ever had. Interesting this non-Jedi thought it appropriate to do the same. Yet another interesting quirk about the man.

'Callousness and insolence bring to bare unanimous social condemnation, while the simple efforts of politeness are admired; even for those that are otherwise despised.'

The simple lesson of his Lady Silencia about how she expected her Apprentice to behave resonated to this day. The issue with Gabes question was that it was not specific. Did he mean why was Jake here on the planet? Did he mean why Jake was here with the Sith? He would answer both.

"I am here, on Coruscant, to collect something that belonged to my wife. That is the only reason I leave my home these days. I bring home what has been lost centuries ago." Jake explained. "I found something that was stolen of hers. If you ask why am I here among the Sith? Out of loyalty." Jake paused as he adjusted the messenger back so that it rested on the small of his back, "Loyalty to an oath I made my Master. I serve the Sith as she did. Only she and she alone could command me to shift allegiance. As she died from the Gulag Plague, there is no one to remove my binds. So I remain now as I was then. May I ask, how does one who is not Jedi nor Sith survive in the galaxy? Surely the unaligned would feel the pressure to align oneself, correct?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

[member="Aver Brand"]

"It's a...woman, Master..." Avalore heard Rici's voice over her shoulder as she shuffled through several containers for NSAID Stims.

"What?" the Healer threw over her shoulder. A loud chorus of noise had filled the Medical tents as more and more patients piled in, presumably those caught in the collapse. She felt herself getting tense, felt the bite of her tone and the hesitation of her helper.

Take it easy. It's gonna be a long day, Avalore Eden.

She sighed and groped at the neckline of her robe for the chain hidden beneath, for the reprieve of the ring. It was lost beneath the several layers and she resigned to going without. You don't need it, she told herself, just chill out.

"What did you say, Rici?" Ah, there's the stim.

"It's a woman," Rici said as she peeled the helmet off, "and look, her armor changes when I remove it. Ghastly looking thing. I doubt it belongs to one of ours."

Avalore blinked as the flicker of a holographic image fell apart when Rici held up the helmet, "Give me that." She grabbed it from across the patient and nearly staggered backwards as Aver Brand suddenly jolted awake, "Oh!" she yelped, dropping the helmet in the process, "lay still, please!"

"Miss, Miss...?..!" Rici held her hands away as Aver flopped back down on the stretcher like a shivering fish out of water.

"How's it look?"

Lips drawing thin, Avalore stepped back up to the bedside and with quick movements made to check the woman's pupil dilation and pulse, "About as bad as it feels, I expect. You have several compound fractures. We're going to have to reset them. I'm afraid I don't have access to anesthesia, but I can give you a local nerve block." It would kind of help. Kind of. "Lie still, we'll need to undress you to get to your wounds. You're safe at Forward Command of the Galactic Alliance."

Rici began attaching monitoring diodes to Aver's cranium, a Medical Scanner Droid buzzed in through the open flaps. Avalore grunted and quickly moved to throw them shut again. For privacy.

 

[Aela Talith]

Senate District
Senate Building - Atrium
[member="Adder"] | [member="Kyber Salurra"] | [member="Gideon Raith"] | [member="IT-88"]

Aela didn't care to engage, she already knew that they were winning. The 5th Legion were pushing into the Senate Building and she could see her soldiers pressing the One Sith further back. That just meant they were pinned. She knew that victory was right around the corner.

A fool could see it.

So when the man began to fire at her, shooting bolt after bolt in hopes of forcing her into a retreat, Aela simply complied with his demands. She ducked and wove herself backwards, her lightsaber deflecting bolt after bolt. Some flew into the walls around her, others struck Sith troopers who weren't careful. She moved quickly, defensively, and along the way she disarmed half a dozen Sith Soldiers. The 5th Legion were at her back, each one with a rifle at her ready, raising their weapons and firing in a distinctly synchronized pattern.

Aela herself pushed her palm forward.

She struck towards the enemy commander, not engaging him, but simply using the force to attempt to throw and pin him against the far wall.

 

[Jareb Kaine]

Allies: [member="Alexandra Russo"]
Enemies: NPC Sith Bombers
Objective: Clean up the skies

"Damn." Jareb muttered, igniting another bomber with one of his signature concussion missiles. They weren't even putting up much of a fight, but there were just way too many for GA forces to stop. Smoke and smoldering heat filled the atmosphere as charred buildings crumbled beneath the aerial assault raining hell down on it. Jareb had never seen anything like this. Would this be the fate of what was left of Corellia if they tried to take it back?

He didn't have time to think as he dipped into the empty speeder lanes between the buildings. There was a bomber flying low, and he watched it decimate the side of a building before he could get it into range. All the rounds from his X-Wing quad cannons couldn't make up for the destruction it caused. The bomber's shields gave out and it's engine ruptured, quickly bursting it into a ball of white flame. All he could do was minimize the cost, and the lives lost. As he hunted down another target, he passed over a populated square. Hundreds of beings scrambled in all different directions. Chaos would reign on the surface for weeks. Crime would be at an all time high. What a mess.

"Kark these Sith to hell." He said to himself before keying the comms. "Eleven, how's it going?" Jareb had split off from her when Sith resistance had thinned. "The city is a mess. I hope we're actually making a difference down here." He jerked the control stick left down a different lane as a building collapsed in front of him.

"I've lost contact with a lot of Rogues. Think they're still out there somewhere?" It was probably a pointless question, but Jareb needed something hopeful to hold onto in the chaos around him.

 

[Republic Engineering]

Location: Westport - Primary Terminal Interior.
Current Objective: Secure a Landing Zone
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, Shrike Team ([member="Sal Katarn"]), Nighttide Group ([member="Gir Quee"])
Enemies: The One Sith, [member="Abelain Narv'uk"], [member="Blazing Eye"], [member="Gortugg"]
Equipment: See Profile Reference Sheet.


Slamming an armoured gauntlet into the upturned debris, Astarii slowly began to right herself. She was caught out in the open, driven towards the incoming sea of people, and subsequently thrown into the air when the concussive blast had crashed into her advancing frame. Her companions had sought to divert their course before the bomb had blown, to send them away from the killing fields between the two opposing lines. How could they have known that one, or perhaps more of them were carrying improvised explosives underneath their clothing? Not even her sophisticated sensors had been able to register the threat until it was far, far too late.

With a grating purr of energized cables echoing within her ringing skull, the Captain experienced a rare lull in the ebbing flows of combat. The scene was almost pulled out of a HoloDrama she had seen when she was but a child. The particulate debris, wistfully floating to the surface, blanketing whatever gory remains the explosive device didn't atomize. Cries of anguish filled the air in the aftermath, most likely from those that had survived - or perhaps the blast wave had hit her harder than she could've imagined and the sound was merely the echoing howls of the newly slain rising to meet the afterlife head on. Shaking the errant thought from her mind, the Hapan shouldered her rifle and slowly moved towards the terminal.

Those behind her were dead or dying. They were deprived of Jedi Support, and miracles were in short supply. It was unlikely that a Combat Medic could patch them up, or even piece them together again. They were nothing more than food for worms, and the mere thought of it chafed the Captain's nerves raw. She had spent hours secluded in the briefing room with others of a similar station, discussing how they would come to this world and what efforts it would take to change the minds of the populace, liberating them from the lies - perhaps even blanketing them in another.

Astarii couldn't even begin to consider what had happened to her allies, as they were the ones most affected by the blast. Had they survived, or were they too forced to suffer the same fate as those consumed by the fire? Her suit's systems couldn't tell - not with this much debris choking the air. Perhaps when it subsided, the Captain would re-task her scanners to peruse the battlefield passively once again; hoping that they were alive and well. Until that moment had come, she had to focus on the task at hand. Alone, parted from friendly company, and possibly surrounded by enemy combatants, the woman began to weigh her options.

The choice was clear after everything had been calculated and laid bare upon her mental table. Chances were high that another gaggle of Innocent Civvies was located within the Starport, and that it was possible they too were similarly armed. She'd have to stun them before they were driven into a wild, senseless panic. That was the only way she could stop them from not only killing more of her soldiers but also from harming one another. However, with every action, there's an opposite and equal reaction. She could be seen gunning down non-combatants, which in and of itself was worthy of being court-martialed for willingly committing crimes of war. Even if they were alive, it was possible her stun bolt might activate a tripwire on the vest, shorting out the detonator and prematurely triggering the explosive. Again, another act that would label her a war criminal.

She's killed thousands with a press of a single button, and no-one's batted an eye. In fact, High Command had lauded her for committing countless souls into the void. Once the Warship was stripped from underneath you, the rules of engagement changed drastically. There was still much to learn, but as the Hapan shook her head free of this dangerous tangent, she clasped her fingers tight on the foregrip of the weapon in her gauntleted clutches. Unfocused in unfamiliar territory would get you killed, Astarii chided. Clearing her thoughts and shouldering her disruptor, the Captain resumed her advance into the enemy-held installation. Dozens of hostile triangles pulsated atop the digital representation of her suit's motion tracker, giving the woman an idea as to the location and numbers that she now faced. If the readings were accurate, there would be just under two squads of combatants around the bend. Glass shattered and was crushed to dust underneath her armor's purring advance, throwing all caution to the wind as the notion of surprise was filtered from her mind.

They knew she was coming. Like how she had known where they were, it seemed they too had motion trackers in play - or advanced scanning equipment that beggared belief. Nevertheless, as she pressed her back towards the wall - she had seen the impossible transpire before her very eyes. A being of dextrous muscle and ashen flesh flew through the terminal, registering as a blur through her bifocaled optics suite. Whoever that was, it was fast and headed towards a distant target - which by using a combination of her spacial awareness and sluggish translocation software - had come to determine that this... thing... sought to claim the Katarn's life. Though it was fast, Astarii doubted that it could do little more than annoy the savage space cowboy. His file had mentioned he had a thing for scatterguns, and the spread on those projectiles would stop anything - no matter how fast - in its tracks.

Just then, the power had gone out. In the instant the light had been siphoned from the surroundings, the polychromatic visor compensated, bathing everything the Hapan could see in soft hues of emerald and crimson. The enemy must've had similar protocols, as they were unmoving in their silent vigil when the darkness had swallowed them whole. Thus, with two avenues of surprise denied, the Shipmistress had little choice but to engage the enemy. Were she a soldier, the woman would've primed a flashbang and tossed it into the chamber - disorientating those bereft of helmets and visual enhancements. Instead, the Captain pushed off the wall and began strafing through the crystalline foyer with her disruptor raised. Storms of blaster fire had seared the air as she made her way towards a nearby pillar, depleting much of her mobility shield's charge in the attempt. Breathing slowly, Astarii leaned out of her makeshift cover and spied the entrenched enemy position.

Nearly two squads like her scanners had suggested - but small cantrips when compared to the two ethereal beings standing behind the common soldiery. One was a Gamorrean, and the other was.... a Whatever that thing was. Tall, blue and entirely Alien. Once her shields had recharged, he would be her first target. Not because he was the tallest amongst the enemy throng and carried himself with an inhuman importance, but because he - if it could even be called he - made her skin crawl. Upon hearing the soft chime resound within her ears, the Hapan stepped out from behind the pillar and had fired two bolts of superheated disruption plasma in quick succession. Her reticle had placed the shots in his greatest center of mass, which from the looks of him would be the torso, but due to the hazy aura that had outlined his shadowy form, it was questionable if the needle-thin plasmatic rivets would strike true.

The Force works in mysterious ways, after all, and anything could happen.

 

[Kyber Salurra]

Location: Inside the Senate Building.
Mission: Do Damage.
Allies: Galactic Alliance // [member="Aela Talith"] // [member="Adder"] // [member="Keld Fett"] // [member="Gideon Raith"]
Enemies: One Sith // [member="Soeht"] // [member="IT-88"]
Gear: Personal Heavy Armor - Usual Equipment - BTI-CC13 Blaster Rifle - (4x) Flashbang Grenade - (2x) EMP Grenade - (2x) Thermal Detonator

Kyber and his group were making steady progress, only losing a handful soldiers due to injury along the way- unfortunately a good amount of those were fatal. It was a steady progress that Kyber couldn't help but smile widely at- and without the visual protection of his helmet it was open for enemy and ally alike to see. Eventually the group made it back to the main hall -and with only a momentary pause for a quick adjustment of Kyber's flash goggles- they turned the corner and began their press, Aela's lightsaber creating a beacon on the other side of the room. This was it. Pressed between two fronts it was only a matter of time before this surprise force was taken down. Don't get him wrong, Kyber didn't think lightly of these soldiers at all. They were well trained and highly coordinated- much better than the force that was originally guarding this place. It's just that the soldiers of the 5th were too perfect of an opponent. After all, they were all One Sith Troopers at one point. They knew how the enemy worked, and in war, that was better than any physical weapon you could use.

As Alpha Platoon pushed up on the Sith troopers Kyber started to walk back into the troopers, letting them all pass by him. Once he'd been absorbed into the mass of Alpha Platoon he'd pull a random soldier in close and whisper something quick to him under the fray of grenades, slug-throwers, and blasters. After Kyber finished speaking the soldier replied with a simple nod before sprinting back from the way Alpha came. All the preparation had been complete. Kyber could now just relax and focus on the enemy at hand. Beginning his sprint back towards the frontlines of Alpha platoon he tossed away his rifle and its waning ammo count before relieving a fallen Alliance trooper of his VT-Needle Disruptor.

Rejoining the press, Kyber made sure to keep himself steady and calm. Adrenaline racing at extreme levels, sounds of war blaring unabashedly into unprotected ears, and mere flesh and bone protecting Kyber from a bolt to the head. Not ideal conditions, but the smile on Kyber's face never faded- it grew even wider in fact.This battle was close to coming to a fiery end not too long ago, but with the neutralization of the enemy commander and with it their method of detonation, it was only a matter of time before the Alliance would complete their mission in taking back the senate from the One Sith. Not that all that really mattered to Kyber, he was just happy to have taken down a Sith. The only thing that Kyber was looking forward to more was the inevitable scavenging and salvaging of enemy equipment. Hey, maybe that sith or one of his apprentices dropped a lightsaber or two? Now that would be something fun to tinker with.

 

[Ellie Mors]

DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS

CORUSCANT: FINANCIAL DISTRICT; GROUND
EQUIPMENT:

• LISETTE'S FIRST LIGHTSABER
• LISETTE'S SECOND LIGHTSABER
• SHELL OF DEVOTION

​
Everything that could go wrong with the invasion, at that moment, seemed to go wrong. There was rioting in the streets - though she wasn't certain if it was for or against the arrival of the Galactic Alliance, and quite frankly didn't care - and building kilometers into the center of the capital burned to life as they were lit ablaze, the senseless slaughter of her allies and the people they were fighting to protect. She felt it, too, the outreaching hand of anguish, of despair. There was anger, rage, and there was hate. There was also a great sadness, a throbbing pain, one that robbed her of her reason. Even as [member="Clovis Torcularis"] threw his debris towards her, likely to distract her, she felt the insurgence of her own heart and soul with the pang of others.

She'd heard of such a thing, knew what it meant, and she'd avoided this kind of combat in fear that she'd succumb to the urges that it would inevitably usher. 'This must have been what she felt at that moment.' Lisette thought, her body shifting as she started to break into a sprint for the large chunk of duracrete that was thrown her way. She was sluggish, however, uncertain and perhaps anxious as fleeting thoughts of her mother's troubled youth flooded through her as the emotions began to stir. Like a proverbial hole in the emotional space around her, the feelings of hatred, anger, distraught, and fear were pulled into her very core. Every muscle in her body felt heavier, but not in the manner of exhaustion - rather she felt like she was more present than she ever had been before. As if she was just now alive. Not unlike an adrenaline rush, she felt her body pick up without even asking it to, no conscious urging of the force to increase her bodily movements, and found her left hand, saber and all, lifting towards the incoming projectile with instinctual insistence.

Her eyes shut momentarily and the rumbling of the ground beneath her feet told her that she'd pulled the rubble down to the ground, conscious of the fact that her wrist had flexed while she started lifting her legs higher - suddenly moving off of the ground - with a sharp intake of breath. Every choice she made seemed to be made for her, as if her body simply knew better than her mind, as if her heart was in possession of some awareness that her head was not, and while at first it felt calm, natural, it quickly swallowed the entirety of her persona in an existential paradigm swap. Her entire understanding of what was right and wrong, just and unjust, was turned on its head - all of the emotions that had swirled around the city, and especially in the immediate vicinity, had been pulled into her and at first merely fueled her abilities, but now began to alter her understanding.

To kill a Sith, in the eyes of those that had trained her, was acceptable if it was the only way - even in anger, it was better to act in apathy than to give in to that rage. Now, however, there was a primal urge to cleave the opposer's head clean from his shoulders, to rip him apart like some feral animal. It was so unlike anything she'd felt before, not because of the feelings of anger and spite - she'd hated her mother for years - but because, rather than feel like an external force that she could convince herself to detest, an uncomfortable surge from the outside, it felt good to feed into those emotions, almost in the same vein as taking a sip of water while parched. Every inch she gave was another mile that she ached for, that she craved.

Lisette's body hurled over the debris, the base of her heel pushing herself off of it even as it slid underneath her, and then her eyes shot open as she drew close enough to her opponent that she could feel his approach through the force. The moment her eyelids had exposed the world around her to her eyes it was as if there was a new way to see everything. The Sith, with his twin sabers, had a faint glow of what she could only describe as a palpable emotional anchor in the dark side, whether it was blind obedience or some kind of hate, and much the same could be said of the people that poured out into the streets around them - confusion, anger, hatred, rage, anxiety. And for every shred of those feelings that washed over her, she fed.

And then everything went dark.

An ear-splitting explosion ripped through the financial district, shutting down all of the power, per the actions surrounding [member="Aver Brand"], [member="Loray Tares"], and [member="Darth Megnentis"], throughout several of the districts, the one they were in included. But that didn't make the two opposing forces, Clovis and Lisette, blind to the other's presence, their sabers still lit and illuminating them with their vibrant hues. It was at this moment, as she soared over the debris he had thrown at her, that she had pulled to the ground, that Lisette chose to strike. Like a viper her body was propelled forwards with force-fueled speed, a simple kick of her heel against the tip of the debris launching her almost a meter towards the Sith with her right saber extended like the jaws of a viper. She struck down as she passed over, her body rotating forwards, head-over-heels, while she pulled her knees towards her chest to complete the nearly perfect application of a forward, aerial, ataru somersault.

But even as she passed over she kicked her legs out as they were pointed over her body in the air, shifting her weight so she could twist her falling form and draw back the violet blade that she'd stricken out with, so that as she landed she'd be facing the sith with an incredible momentum, a flow of aggression she wasn't willing to let go to waste. She'd practiced the intricacies of Ataru with Aaralyn, but she'd always been more of a natural with the saber form that Darth Sidious had once attributed as the "True Sith style", that of Juyo. The amber blade in her hand, combined with the slight bend of her knees as her feet hit the ground, resulted in a furious backhanded slash of the blade at her foe while she pushed herself towards him, eyes set in an expression so serious one might have mistaken it for anger.

Or perhaps it was the other way around.

Eyes like fire, a heart consuming the very emotions that echoed and pulsed through the crowd, Lisette was very much living the ferocity required of the Way of the Vornskr. Even as she stepped into the path of darkness, she wasn't willing to give up. She was out for blood now.

[member="Abyss"] [member="Ugohr Poof"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Forward Command
Medical Centre
Triage
[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Avalore Eden"]

Ah, there we go. The pain was gaining momentum now that she was fully awake. It rippled across the cords of muscle and the strings of nerves, sinking its vicious fangs and talons into wherever it could find purchase. And there was purchase aplenty.

The last time she’d been this bloody and broken had been Nadir. Then, nothing had mattered but the red and gray pulp lapping at her boots. Him. Dead.

Today it was infrastructure giving out under the continuous barrage of fighters and artillery, combined with insider sabotage. She should’ve expected it. She’d failed, and now she was lying on a cot, paying for an arrogant mistake.

“Frakker.” She spat the word like some kind of aegis, then bit her lip to stifle a growl of pain as the healer began to pry off her armor. It felt like it was the only thing holding her together in some places.

“Don’t… bother,” she spoke quickly between shallow breaths. “It never works.” Most drugs, stims, alcohol, and any other brand of poison who dared do battle with her metabolism lost. Miserably. There were a few that could hold on for a shorter and milder high – take Glitterstim, for example – but a great majority of addling agents simply fizzled out, useless.

“Just set... the bones. I’ll be fine.” Her gaze flickered about the makeshift room, a habit unchanged even in dire times. Her armor, slowly piling up in the left corner. A medical droid on her right, buzzing with analysis. Have fun with that. Two female healers, one clearly the boss. Brown hair, bright eyes. Quick thinker.

A modicum of tension left her muscles. She was in good hands. Later, when her mouth wasn’t dry and her throat parched, Aver could explain the mercenary nature of her relation to the Alliance.

Later.

 

[Blazing Eye]

[member="Sal Katarn"]
Had he not been engaged in battle, Blazing Eye would have whooped for joy as the grappling line connected. This sniper was way out of his element. A scattergun was a good weapon, for sure, but only if your opponent was stationary, or as agile as a bantha. A scattergun shot spread only so far, and at the closest of ranges it didn't have time to spread at all. Devastating, yes, but against a trained duelist? A simple repeating pistol would have been much more effective. In any case, his opponent was down, and he had the advantage.

Deciding to strike a little fear into his opponent, Blazing Eye took a risk. He could have easily dive-rolled away from the shot, but decided to only move slightly out of the way. The buckshot hurt like the fires of Mustafar as about half of the pellets connected with his left arm, but Blazing Eye, trained to resist pain and doped up on adrenaline and battle focus, kept going. Hopefully before his opponent to react to the fact that he had blood streaming from a dozen wounds on his arm and was still charging, Blazing Eye swung his massive meter-long sword, aiming to cleave either the gun or the man's arm. After the swing he moved forward again, kicking out to make sure the gun left his opponent's hand one way or the other.

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

Location: Westport
Objective: Survive/Retaliate
Allies: [member="Gortugg"] | [member="Blazing Eye"]
Enemies: [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Astarii Saren"]

The detonation shook the very foundations of the structure for a millisecond before everything returned to normality. The sulfuric scent melded with that of spilled blood and filled the olfactory senses of the Arue'tii. It appeared that his tactic had it's acquired effect, and already he could see the surviving Alliance members tensing with the idea that any further citizens would provide an explosive surprise to their otherwise simplistic assault. At the very least the hostile forces had apparently slowed their capture of the spaceport, though upon further reflection it appeared that the lead of their attack had continued unhindered by the bombing.

He had been far enough away when the mobile ambush had occurred that his thoughts were not muddled by the noise, and subsequent chaos. He had an inkling of an idea that his opponents would be somewhat distracted by trying to reorganize themselves, and by dealing with their fallen. It was the perfect moment for him to strike against them, and a swift gesture forward was the only order necessary to send the supersoldiers forward towards the enemy lines. His plans had worked perfectly against the encroaching foe, and he could sense the benefits of his labor become apparent as the two forces prepared to clash in momentous warfare.

There were a pair of sayings that came to mind a moment later. The first; that no plan survives contact with the enemy, and the second; that everything that can possibly go wrong will go wrong. Following suit with the commandments that had been adhered to for millennium, the lights of the structure suddenly flickered off into darkness. The shadow swallowed up everything, leaving nothing visible to the naked eye, but there was no doubt in Abelain's mind that his soldier's would manage to find their way through the fog, and to their enemy. His own issues with the darkness were negligible compared to the average sentient; not because he had spectacular night vision, but because he could scent the location of his chosen opponent. His own soldiers opened fire upon her, each shot hammering into what appeared to be a shield of some manner, but their orders were not to eliminate the single threat, but the entire threat to the structure, and so they quickly moved on towards the remainder of the Alliance forces.

She was near enough that he could scent her easily, and he gradually began his predatory approach towards his supposedly unsuspecting prey. A sense of danger flickered through his system, and immediately he grasped at a nearby chunk of damaged starship; likely a piece of hull, and held it in front of himself as a shield using telekinesis. The disruptor shots flew through the air with majestic deadliness, the first dying upon the makeshift shield, but not before burning completely through both layers of the metal's hull. The second shot was more accurately aimed, or at the very least managed to slip somewhat past his defenses, and he felt it singe along the far side of his right torso, burning through a chunk of the starship and leaving a mark through his chitinous armor and flesh. It was an inconsequential wound, but the process of muscle turning into ash was not without excruciating pain, and the monstrous Sith released a howl fueled with anger and agony that rivaled the noise created by the bomb.

His eyes shuddered themselves to the dark, relying entirely upon his other senses to guide him in the void. The Arue'tii charged forth towards his opponent, moving rapidly behind cover wherever possible and igniting the crimson saber along his side. It shined a very visible beacon of his presence, but simultaneously he realized that she could only have shot him if she were already capable of viewing him. With his speed amplified by the Force, Abelain shot throughout the area, coming up near a shattered pillar littered with rubble and debris. His left hand grasped rapidly at a particularly large chunk, and he used the kinetic inheritance of his speed to hurl the makeshift projectile towards his opponent, aiming to knock away the deadly weapon that had managed to wound him through his practically impenetrable chitin.

There were no words. She wouldn't care for them anyways.

 

[Sal Katarn]

[member="Blazing Eye"]

A low growl rumbled in the back of Sal's throat as the cable tore deeper into his calf, jerking him about on the ground. The aging mercenary could feel warm ichor slicking his pant leg. Not the first time and probably not the last, unless he let this lumbering behemoth lop his head off.

Not likely.

The bloodied beast charged straight for him. Probably not the best idea, but Sal didn't reckon the thing looked like the sharpest tool in the shed. The monster slashed down, sword whistling through the air. Sal reached across his body with his empty left hand held out in some futile attempt to ward the blade away. Incredibly, the sword stopped in mid-air as if repulsed by an opposing magnet, which was more or less true. The Vanir Tech grav glove hummed. Sal bared his teeth, sharp canines giving him a feral grin.

The alien started moving forward again, but as he brought his leg back to kick Sal aimed his pistol for the other kneecap at what was basically point blank range and pulled the trigger.

Would the pellets have wide spread? No. Was the width of spread important when dealing with a single enemy? Nope, not really. Especially not at point blank ranges, when all Sal really needed was for one of those five ball bearing sized pellets to smash into the fella's kneecap and shatter the patella. Not a killing shot, but a crippling one.

Katarn didn't know many people who were all that spry after getting their kneecap blown to bits. Ideally, the shot would not only hobble the creature, but thwart the kick as all the creature's weight was currently placed that leg while it wound up for a kick.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Jake Daniels"] [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] [member="Break"]

Jacen could pretend that everything he felt now was because of proximity to the Force nexus. There was no point trying to delude himself. Hours of meditation, years of training and all of that combined effort to bolster his resolve and leave his mind clear of distraction and disruption were for nothing. Anticipation built as the soldiers fell back and cleared a path. It had been so many years since he saw his son, but the anxiety was greater than the anticipation. The boy had been in no hurry to contact his real father, not since his mother had moved in with a well-paid civilian whilst Jacen was on tour with the Grand Army of the Republic. And now he was under the influence of the Sith. He’d been going by the name Voidstalker again. If the Sith had made that connection, there was no telling what they could have been teaching the boy.

Back underground, accompanied by an unfamiliar droid rather the Gabriel. He could have done with a friend now. The path ahead was dark, lit only by dim torches. Voices echoed up the hall, faint and subdued, just as the light was. Soon he could make out voices.

“We join the fight then!”

“Darth Crucicus said to stay here.”

“The army is retreating, the Jedi are forcing their way in!”

“Let’s take our weapons and drive them off then.” That voice. That voice was familiar. Deeper than Jacen recalled, but he recognised it nonetheless. Recognised it, even through its bitter edge.

“I’m in charge here. We go back to the extraction zone at the far end of the valley and regroup. We need to find a Knight.”

“Fine!” snapped the voice of Jacen’s son.

Jacen carried on moving forwards. The scales of his armour lightly jangled as he went. Suddenly the voices fell silent. Their approach had been noticed. Jacen strode around the corner into a wide open chamber, with a dome shaped ceiling. Dark scars across the ground suggested this was used for lightsabre training by the Sith.

Three forms, clad in black robes stood in a line to meet them. Jacen’s eyes fell upon the one in the middle. His mother’s eyes and his father’s hair. Broader and taller than he had known the boy. Now stuck somewhere in that expanse between childhood and manhood. Recognition was apparent in the lad’s expression, but in the way Jacen had envisaged. Contempt was etched into Tristan’s features, the taint of the dark side already encroached on his eyes. Her eyes. All hope seemed to bleed from Jacen, leaving him hollow.

“You.”

“Son…”

“You don’t get to call me that. The man who called me that died. He died with my mother when Jedi fanatics attacked Coruscant.”

Jacen’s jaw opened and snapped shut again. The muscles down the side of his face twitched. His armour was useless, there was no shield against such a blow. No twisting knife could hurt as much as that. He felt dizzy. The shadows dancing to the firelight seemed to grow.

The other two acolytes stepped forwards. Jacen eyed them suspiciously. “I’m here to talk.”

“We’re not,” one of them said. Three more quick steps forward and Jacen took one. His hand came up and both Acolytes were sent in opposite directions, skidding along the floor. Another gesture from that hand and their sabers were rolling across the floor into the shadowy recesses of the hall.

He looked to Break out of the corner of his eye to see if the droid would act on this, then met his son’s gaze once more.

“Please,” Jacen said. Cracked voice barely above a whisper.