Skirmish Bryn'ing Down The House [Jedi v. Bryn'adûl]

[Ryv]

// SABER THREE // GROUNDED
// TAGS // Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Tathra Khaeus | Weyland Castril | Romi Jade | Allyson Locke
// OBJECTIVE // PAY FOR THE SINS OF OTHER
// THEMATIC // Ruby
// EQUIPMENT // Blade of Ruusan // Aspis // Maynard's First Lightsaber // 'Top Gun' Leather Jacket
​

​

As the two weapons pulled back, Ryv peered over the shield to the incoming elbow and once more raised it to cover his form. The impact lifted the smaller Kiffar from the floor and sent him through the air to the midway point between Weyland and the continued combat. Rather than rush back into the fray, he paused and watched his two closest friends reaching beyond the personal boundaries accepted by the Jedi Order. The dark side threatened to crash over them all as the battle raged, and the planet died. He couldn't blame either of them for riding the line so dangerously, but whereas Loske moved with some measure of caution, Maynard fell entirely into his hatred and rage. His emotions drove him with a passion not much different from the Sith or Bryn'adul, and it bled into the meld.​

​

Between Loske's brush with the dark powers, Maynard's practical fall, and the evergrowing chaos, Ryv felt locked in place. Neither Romi, Weyland, or himself could even address the concern adequately with the titanic warrior beating down on each of them in turn. To top it all off, Allyson's ship went crashing towards the downed beast. His gaze flickered between the strike team one at a time in the hopes of finding some answer to each problem as they appeared en masse. Unsurprisingly, nothing came to his mind beyond retreating from the battlefield. It only made sense to call the order and withdraw, but the grip of the dark side was secure upon Maynard, while fear carried Weyland back into the fray over and over again, akin to the suicidal actions of the fallen Jedi Master.​

​

"We have to go," Ryv muttered to himself, strengthening his resolve by putting the words out there. "Loske!" he looked to her as she landed beside him. "I'm calling the retreat. Even if we can overcome the titan, our starfighters are falling apart, and our window to escape is quickly shrinking. I need you to figure out if Allyson is okay while I work on Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb over here," he motioned towards Maynard and Weyland as they continued the fight. "Maynard's losing himself right now, and Weyland is acting on instinct alone. With Romi holding em down, I think we can make this work, but I need your help."​

​

With that, the Jedi Knight turned from the ace pilot and rushed towards Maynard. Along the way, Ryv activated his commlink and mentally prepared to issue an order to Romi Jade. He hadn't spoken more than a word to the Jedi Master, which made the idea of commanding her all the more intimidating. Yet, the Order entrusted him with the title Sword of the Jedi. Ryv's experience fell short of the Jedi Master by dozens of battles. It wasn't his history on the battlefield or any sort of tactical genius that won him the role. His empathy and caution won the attention of the council.​

​

"Master Jade," Ryv's voice came over the commlink. "I don't think sticking around is a good idea. I've already issued the order to Loske to retreat. I don't know your stance on our order, so I wouldn't tell you what to do with your life, but I do need your help. Maynard's fallen to the dark side, and Weyland is borderline suicidal. I need you to lock Tathra down while I get them out of here. Even if we kill him, our deaths at the hands of his hordes won't make it worth it. We're Jedi, we don't trade in lives," he paused momentarily, swallowing both his pride and contempt for the Silver Jedi Order. "Please help me save my friends."​

​

Ryv watched Weyland summon the vibroblade and winced. Deciding between the Concordian Pilot or the formerly blind Jedi was practically impossible. Both Maynard and Weyland were more than his allies, but also his friends. Ryv laughed, cried, smiled, and now fought beside both of them. Each step he took towards one put him further from the other, potentially damning them to a gruesome death at the warlord's hands. With a deep breath, Ryv turned towards Mynard. Weyland's charge put him beyond his reach in that instant.​

​

"Maynard, man, you're losing yourself!" Ryv took his friend's shoulder and attempted to tug him around to face one another. "We've gotta get the hell out of here, now!"​

 

[Romi Jade]

"Refocus! We've got way to many emotions and divided thoughts running wild...this meld's gonna become a liability quick"

The mind could be formulated into a powerful tool, but could become a dangerous encumbrance just as quick. Connecting the mind with others was always a draw...but when your not cautious you can lose yourself; you'd fall into the depths of the empyrean, and continue falling forever.

It was the flip side to melding minds.

She thumbed the ignition switch, and pulled back -- her transitional switch would swifter than if her blade had been ignited, plus she'd natural command more speed than someone of his size in such closer quarters, and enhanced -- yanking her hilt back, she watched the lower haft of his weapon fly past her arm.

Romi turned and brought her elbow flying up, with a sudden, and hasty twist, her hands moved in a dexterous blur as she got inside his hinged movements. Romi drew on her fighting skills, pitting her speed and precision against this opponent's brute force. She swept her shoto through a down-turning circular parry as she cut into the impending trajectory of his downward strike, rolling her right hand over her left, her lightsaber coming across vertically to intercept her own secondary weapon for added pressure and knock his weapon some degrees off its intended mark -- this was putting her crushgaunts and enhancements to work but she wouldn't struggle to push it back a bit.

Jade did not have the half a second it would take to raise her arms again, so she simply threw herself backward; Romi used the physical momentum of her retreat. She ducked back, rolling through a somersault, then came up on her feet.

She came up to the visual of Loske leaping atop Tathra, swinging herself over his head, and brandishing him with with electric currents.

Now though, they came to a standstill...

And her golden locs blew in the stray ominous breeze...

"Master Jade," Ryv's voice came over the commlink. "I don't think sticking around is a good idea. I've already issued the order to Loske to retreat. I don't know your stance on our order, so I wouldn't tell you what to do with your life, but I do need your help. Maynard's fallen to the dark side, and Weyland is borderline suicidal. I need you to lock Tathra down while I get them out of here. Even if we kill him, our deaths at the hands of his hordes won't make it worth it. We're Jedi, we don't trade in lives," he paused momentarily, swallowing both his pride and contempt for the Silver Jedi Order. "Please help me save my friends."

She looked to the skies, and it indeed was a losing battle.

"Do what you have to do to save your friends...I'll help hold him off." Her gaze fell again, "I'm cutting everyone off from the meld...with everyone divided, you're at greater risk for losing yourselves."

She spoke into her wrist, "R0, circle back."

She stared on stretching her awareness.

She'd learned a time ago, that war is chaos. In her minds eye, she could see the battlefield shimmering in the force. Visualizing the battle's outcome, she knew that victory can exist; it could.

If the Force wills.

Through her probe, she encountered a wave of self-oppression, and anguish that assaults the minds of those on her side. Her mind flashed through a multitude of scenarios, and deep in her short contemplation, she worked to subtly alter them -- From her peripheral she saw Weyland charging Tathra, she couldn't let him go in alone.

She fell into a sprint and charged him too.

----

Loske Treicolt | Allyson Locke | Weyland Castril | Maynard Treicolt | Ryv

Tathra Khaeus

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Honoghr // x01-Skywalker Class // JTSP // Engaged
Strike team objective: Go for The Head​

“Yagh!” Tathra took a swing at her midsection, and the powerful lashing out created a wind that came with the blade. Her HUD lit up with alarm, informing her of the hit’s nearness and the rallying of the protective absorption to her midsection. The sword’s tip punctured through the fabric of the suit, drawing across her ribs and she dropped to her hands and knees, gasping at the impact and clutching her belly. Immediately the Jedi Platform’s nanoparticles worked to repair the tear, bacta and foam pouring over the newfound incision across her torso, jacking her up with more stims so the pain was mitigated.

If she hadn’t been struck, she would’ve been leaping back up and at Tathra, who took this time to put distance between himself and the warriors.

Loske felt a chill slowly pour into her and move up her spine bone by bone. Her mind was plagued with a concoction of feelings that were not her own. Panic, fear, desperation, rage. They clouded at her mind, and she released a frustrated gasp and her eyes darted about to find the sources of the mental, burdensome conflict. An explanation barked into her brain and she blinked several times to clarity.

"Refocus! We've got way to many emotions and divided thoughts running wild...this meld's gonna become a liability quick"​

From the tabletop position she lifted her chin, before kneeing herself back up to stand and adjust to a more active position. For all their physical training, the group hadn’t spent enough time conditioning their control of self evidently.

The fury emblazoned by Maynard was distinct, and her chest tightened in apprehension when Ryv confirmed their friend was losing himself and Weyland was also at risk.

The emotional stress didn’t end there. Weyland cried out, and Loske’s attention was diverted from Tathra skyward, where she could only watch helplessly while Allyson evidently made the brash decision to sacrifice her bird into a ball of fire into the dragon.

The mission mandate was to go for the head. Allyson had done that. The would-be Kiffar felt her face get hot and chest tight while the incredible beast behind her wailed out an ear-shattering shriek in response to the attack. A creeping sense of dread and mortality started to drench her senses, and her mouth felt too dry -- only able to mouth a wordless ‘no’ in protest to the pending reality of loss. Her fingers fidgeted in a pathetic lift to reach out. Allyson was her friend, and the bleakness of any trace of her signature flickered against the haywire metaphysical from all the Jedi in the proximity. In a distracted effort, she stretched out to see if there was any semblance of consciousness entangled with the dragon’s Force presence. Buried deep, struggling and faint, there was the promise of something. A glimmer if nothing more. Optimism demanded she latch onto that hope -- marginal though it was.

"Hold on, you have to hold on...please hold on." She assured through a tense whisper to the comms connecting her to Allyson -- if she still had access to the channel. Loske hadn’t felt Allyson’s presence in the meld, so she wasn’t sure how to set up a neurolink between herself and the other Jedi.

A retreat.

Ryv spoke beside her, summarizing his assessment of the chaos and appending a responsibility to the mission critical she’d been assigned. Her mind was thumping, and she felt the hasty retraction of everyone else when Romi withdrew her influence. It took her a few seconds to blink back to sensibility, relying only on her own senses. With the clairvoyance of everyone else’s moves extracted, Loske had to rely on her basic premonitive abilities to break down next steps when Weyland and Romi flung themselves at Tathra again.

With a quick look over her shoulder to see the wreckage, and glanced back at the armour wearing demon. The mandate was split in two. Three, even. Golden sparks gathered at her hands again, tendrils twisting up her wrist before she brought her hands together to focus the trajectory toward the chieftan’s torso. Once he was crisped up a bit and distracted, she’d feel better about peeling away to help Allyson. At this point, it was a balance of instructions.

Spoiler

Tathra Khaeus / Allyson Locke / Maynard Treicolt / Ryv / Weyland Castril / Romi Jade

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// SABER ONE //
// OBJECTIVE // Put Tathra Khaeus on a T-Shirt
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Weyland Castril | Ryv | Romi Jade | Allyson Locke @Whoeverelse

Contemplate what I've been clinging to

What greater instinct might've told him just to run. Live to fight another day, it wasn't worth it now, run. He didn't care to listen. Threatening to throw his elbow into Ryv's stomach as the Sword Of The Jedi sought to pull him back from the fray. His gaze buried beneath the weakening strike platform looked back and spelled eyes brimming with hatred and pain. The last time he'd felt this much death and anguish all at once, it was unfettering his hatred which freed him from the bonds of it all and made it right. It was delusional to think he could do the same here.

He wasn't going to leave this encounter without expending every fiber of his being into this fight. If they could kill Tathra now, they'd all be freed from feeling this suffering again. Unfurling a scream of rage and paind which staggered the noise as it left his windpipes he surged into the fray once more alongside Romi and Weyland. With the bristling flames of Allyson's ship burrowing into the Dreddikast able to be cast in a shadow of his senses as he kept his aim solely on combat. Were he able to stop and look over the destruction around him, there is no saying to himself he wouldn't have broken down in tears the very same way the boy on Concord Dawn did several years ago, the last encounter which drove him to these lengths,

Sliding down along the ground beneath he swung his cobalt blade out to cut into the side of Tathra's leg before he sought to regain his footing once more behind the Titan, from there he'd swing the blade up from the side of his hip into a cut aiming to streak through the back of the very same leg he sought to strike moments before. Unable to tame his delusions of strength in the face of the Titan, he sought to fight the warlord with everything channeled through his strikes even as an intense, stinging pain racked up in his muscles from the already intensive physical struggle with Tathra.

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

Location: Honoghr Orbit > Local Battlespace
Objective: Cracking open a cold Dreddikkast with the boys. (Support First Strike Team/Saber Squadron)
With: Allyson Locke + First Strike Team
Engaging: Tathra Khaeus kinda (I’m up for a 1 v 1 duel on foot if you’d like)

​

After Allyson’s telemetry data had been relayed back to Jyoti at the staging area, the Echani sprung to action, marshalling the fighter corp of Great River. Sometime later, the second wave of GR fighters emerged near the far side of Honoghr opposite to the position of the main Bryn formation. There were scores of Bobcats and Fencer Kai, all amounting to equivalent strength of two standard aviation wings. At the center of the formation was a lone Kobold blastboast, containing Jyoti and her strike team. All other craft was unmanned, self learning drones that could match and exceed the reaction times of the Bryn biofighters, but more importantly, reduce the casualties of precious pilots against the enemey’s suicidal mass wave tactics.

She expected this to be a one way trip for most.

“Sol wing, spread out and help establish a corridor for evacuees. Pattern Delta-5. Luna wing, screen for Sol. Line up those shots.”

There were no vocal affirmations, only the blue ticks on Jyoti’s monitors to mark compliance as flights of Bobcats and Fencers immediately broke off from their larger formations with machine precision. The Bobcats of Sol roughly organized themselves into a web of interlocking fire over the expanse of thousands of kilometers, while the Fencers circled around Sol creating an outer perimeter.

The net had been cast, ready to ensnare any Bryn forces that dared chased fleeing civilians through.

While the drones continued to assemble, Jyoti studied the wider system map for total force strength. As per the reports, the Bryn had struck Honoghr with overwhelming force, but it was significantly smaller than what had been witnessed at Kesh. Even including whatever hardware allies and locals had in the air, they were probably still vastly outmatched in terms of raw meterage, but not so much that good tactics couldn’t make up for a numerical disadvantage.

If they were careful they would live through this, but she had grown tired of simply surviving until the next pummeling. Something had to change.

“Once we’ve achieved parity, we’ll head planetside to link up with the first stri--”

She winced as she felt a disturbance in the Force. Normally the dark psychic ambiance of battle didn’t trigger the hardened vet, but this disturbance was definitely something that struck a chord. Moments later, the light of her personal communicator began to flash.

Frowning, she opened the message to find a quick text. Her brows furrowed deeper, and she began to grit her teeth as she read the contents of that message.

You didn’t have to do this...I’m here.

Too late, yet again.

Feth.

Through thought alone, she quickly shot off a message of inquiry as she turned her attention back to the battle at large.

“Change of plans...we’ll be linking up with first strike team sooner than expected. Let the remains of Saber squadron know we’re coming right now, and to hold on.”

No one else was going down while she was here.

Spoiler

Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Ryv Weyland Castril Romi Jade

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Equipment: Sword | Long-Axe | Shield | Sun Quaker | Barricas Oil | Armour |
Mount: The Dreddikast Beast
Theme: X

When the lone craft came barrelling down toward the beast, Tathra had the foresight to relinquish his connection to his pet as the collision exploded into a wall of flames. The Dreddikkast shrieked, an ear piercing wail as its dozens of wings sprawled spider-legs, shaking and twisting as the flames coiled around its obsidian-black scales, its weaker spots burning; eyes boiling like eggs in their sockets. The contextually sudden shift from carbonyte freezing cold to plasmatic hot increased the pain as the beast withered in strength. The breadth of its size allowed it some ability to blast away the fire and ink as it drifted through the air and land, a sprawling spiral of flames and frozen black before finally crashing once more with a thunderous slam into the earth.

Tathra felt the whispers of its presence die in his mind, but he could not discern its physical condition. His shoulders sloped slightly, the hardness fading from his complexion for a moment as his compunctions, his wish to face the Jedi had caused the death of one of creature he had relied upon for well over a decade.

Steam escaped from the mouth and nostrils of the Titan, a single tear coiled around the carapace of his cheek but almost as soon as it escaped his eye it boiled into nothing. The moment passed as quickly as it came, the weakness was suffered and quickly conquered within as his attention returned to the task at hand. He would not fail his duty. Those opaque aureate eyes shifted, watching as the Jedi warriors approached.

The Jedi warrior approached, the first to draw close was the same Knight he had only moments ago dealt a vicious blow to. The flying warrior leapt through the air, the Titan brought his left foot back half a step; thrusting his forearm upward as he released his grasp of the Axe's shaft with all but his thumb and index finger; the upward thrust causing the Axe to spin - his hold acting as an anchor as the lower length of the haft spun upward in a semi-circular motion; blocking any approach by the Jedi.

The Jedi had momentarily outpaced the others but consequently spurring them to action as they came to his aid. From his periphery lightning sprung once more from one of the golden-headed Jedi; his sword instinctively raised to block its approach as the Axe's lower half fell into a resting position as the mid-length rested against the outside of his bicep, the upper length of the Axe and its beard sprung forward as an extension of his arm.

With both of Tathra's weapons raised, the Pilot darted low; taking the opportunity to perhaps turn the battle in his favour with another strike at Tathra's right leg. Specifically, his knee. Where previously the body glove and carapace had protected the Titan; the blade cut through and slashed against flesh and bone. Tathra snarled, a grunt of pain escaping him as the distinct sensation of heat stung at him.

Tathra turned his right foot outward and toward the Pilot as he moved to swing again, he had to decide whether pain or losing a leg was preferable. He knew which he would choose. The Titan brought the sword into the path of the Pilot's second strike as the lightning coiled all over his chest, arms and face. The heat did nothing, but the tickling feeling bordered on a collective muscle spasm and extreme pain. The Titan roared in anger and pain as he leapt into action, quick to thwart any attempt to be surrounded.

As the blue indigo blade struck the blunt of the Sword's mid-length, Tathra twisted his hand outward, his palm facing inward as he quickly shifted the sword, bringing the sharp of the blade onto the upper-length of the Jedi's blade, giving him leverage. At the same time, Tathra swung outward with the Axe in his left hand in the direction of the approaching Jedi, the anchoring of the Axe's mid-length between his thumb and index finger allowing the weapon to spin with almost no effort of his own. A vorpal wave of projectile molten red kinetic energy exploded from the beard of the Axe in a semi-circle, arcing towards them.

The momentum of the swing shifted the anchor of the Axe as the pommel swung low and out from its held position against his arm, the Titan ducking under the haft of the Axe as its spun, bringing the beard of the Axe upward once more as the weapon spun into a firm grasp, another projectile wave of red energy shooting force in the same direction in a diagonal wave of energy slightly below the original.

In the same motion, the right arm worked independently, raising the Jedi Pilots blade and forcing it to the left as Tathra pushed it away from himself with the sword, quickly bringing his left foot forward, just ahead of the Pilot's right side, spinning on the ball of his foot as his right foot leg the ground and spun his torso round to be facing those who approached him, bringing himself to the Jedi's right side as his left arm careened around, moving with the momentum of his half-spun side-step, thrusting haft and fist into the Jedi's upper torso, the blur of motion struck the Pilot; throttling him at the Jedi whom had spun overhead mere moments ago.

TAGS
Galactic Alliance - Weyland Castril | Ryv | Romi Jade | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt |

 

[Allyson Locke]

Objective: Stop the Dragon Survive​

Equipment: Signature​

Theme: Who Will Save You Now​

The Force, a power that she rarely relied on to protect her beyond Mechu Deru. Through the years, she had learned to accept who she was and the power that was within her grasp. She had Jyoti to thank for that. The woman helped awaken the connection from deep within the recesses of the Corellian's brain. Allyson put some thought to that, had she always had the Force? Did something happen to her when she was younger that she wanted to continue to refuse its call?​

At the last moment, before the crushing death blow took her, the cockpit of the Bobcat ejected, launching the Corellian through the air. With the Force flowing through her body Allyson used it to stabilize her flight the best she could, but the flames quickly rose faster than she had calculated. Body engulfed in fire; all she could do was trust the Force. The flight felt like forever, almost like she had escaped her body and was free from everything that was happening. A voice in her ear echoed, the helmet of the Corellian fighter pilot remained on her head, the voice at first she had mistaken for someone else - someone that she had hoped would be the one to beckon her to the afterlife - the one to meet her and help her cross over.​

Instead, the voice belonged to Saber Five, Loske Matson. 'Hold on, you have to hold on...please hold on.' The voice spoke over and over again, and Allyson began to descend. The fall was instant; she remembered looking up towards the stars, eyes seeing the drone fighters of her dearest friend. Exhaling, Allyson knew she wasn't going to be able to survive this, despite all of this she still beckoned the Force to protect her.​

Her body landed with a heavy thud. She laid there, fading in and out of consciousness. After a few moments, she was able to gather enough strength to remove the helmet on her head and toss it aside; it was heavy and cracked. It was possibly the only reason she didn't break her head open. Looking down, Allyson realized she was still hovering over the ground, eyes narrowed, and she wondered if she had achieved that incredible force power of flight. If she could grin smugly she would have, but everything fething hurt. "Ugh, why did I do that?" The shrill cries of the beast she had crashed into tore through the air, and Allyson couldn't lift her arms in time to cover her ears. Blood started to drip from her ears and the sounds of the battlefield became muffled. Looking around the best she could she, exhaled and noticed that there were forces converging on her landing space. Feeling around, she realized she had landed onto a dead tree and was pinned in the thick branches. Taking a deep breath a sudden shock of pain surged through her chest and she coughed, blood poured over her front side and she looked down. A weak point in her armor from the blast had exposed her, and a thick branch burrowed into her hip. She was still able to breathe, which meant it didn't hit anything vital.​

The eye with the contact lens that had the HUD fed to it didn't open. She could' t see her HUD or see if anything else was going on with her power armor. The Corellian did the only thing she could do to survive, using the Force she focused on strengthening every ounce of her being. She needed to protect her life, and with the power of the all-powerful Force coursing through her, she knew she could survive. Force Body protected her, but she didn't know how long she'd be able to keep it up. A hand moved to try and work through the branch with some of the slicing tools she had on her. Scouts move towards her and she would only be dead meat if she was found. She had destroyed something precious to the Bryn'adul leader.​

The only way she could pay was with her life. Fingers moved quickly against where starlight was installed in her hand. At least then, Jyoti would have her exact location along with a warning of hostiles.​

She had to survive; she needed to live; she wanted to live. ​

Jyoti Nooran Loske Treicolt Ryv Maynard Treicolt Romi Jade Weyland Castril Tathra Khaeus

 

[Weyland Castril]

Wearing: Jedi Strike Armour, Shield
Carrying: Lightsaber
In: X-01 Starfighter
Strike Team: Allyson Locke - ? , Jyoti Nooran , Ryv , Maynard Treicolt , Loske Treicolt , Romi Jade
Target: Tathra Khaeus

The Axe became a whirlwind, one Weyland would have to bypass if he was to survive. The Jedi pulled his knees into his chest, using the force to propel himself upward in a spin over the head of the red titan. Weyland landed, turning to strike. Yet his strike missed as Tathra danced around Maynard, massive waves of red lashing out from his Axe in the direction of Romi, Loske and Ryv.

Where they dealt with red waves of energy, Maynard was Weyland's hurdle as he was seemingly thrown toward him. The Jedi Knight ducked low, twisting himself to the side as he darted past the flailing Pilot. Plasma-ignited sword at the ready as he lunged forward, from what little he'd seen it was clear that Tathra always had one weapon acting as a distraction, but made it nearly impossible to tell which was which.

Weyland had to be fast, his reflexes needed to thread the line of instinct and skill. Every choice had to be - perfect. The force fuelled his movements, it made him faster, stronger. He also implemented a technique he'd picked up from Lanik; imbuing his weapons with the force to increase their deadliness and power.

He closed the distance, Tathra had bought himself a few more seconds with the storm of red thrown toward his fellow Jedi. If they kept letting him control the fight, they were all going to die. Weyland rasied his shield, ready to redirect whatever blow was thrown his way.