Invasion Chapter Two: House of Cards | Long Live The Empire DE vs GA Coruscant

[Amena Kader]

VIPER
PASSAGEWAYS | CORUSCANT
ALLIES: Kaleb Sunwalker | Sinestra | Ibaris Varanin | Malva'ikh Dralidok | Aphon | Prowler | Sahar | Vorm | Creuat | @whatDSEamImissing? | DE
ENEMIES: GA
ENGAGING: Stennis Fel
GEAR: Armour | Lightsaber | Pistol | Vibroblades | Vibroknife | Grenade loadout

VOICES​

Unyielding.

Imperials were just cut from a different cloth. They weren't as fluid as Jedi or Sith. There was no bending, no mercy. There was only iron. A proud people unwilling to let a quarry go once a scent was found.

That much was clear when she slid past, striking at his leg.

She should have known the Iron Emperor's heir would be more than a mere boy playing at a Knight. Her strike was parried effortlessly while his use of the Force was good enough. Two fingers had lifted from her defensive saber just as he struck to try and block whatever he sent her way. But her concentration has been lapsing the entire time. The meager barrier was able to stop the brunt of the blasts, but as she got to her feet, her ears were still ringing and the world was still spinning slightly.

If only her own Squire Varos Ignacious Korvan could see her pitiful skill now.

She had just stumbled toward the door when it slammed shut in front of her face, the argent blade stuck in the smoking controls next to her. She hissed as she whirled around to face him. She might just forget the old Oath and flay the man who was meant to take up his father's mantle and return the Empire to its former glory.

Both blades firmly at the ready, she followed his movements with a gaze akin to a Kandaran serpent following a desert rat. She had stilled, her stance easy enough to react at a moment's notice. Up until now, she had been both shocked and hesitant to engage, but now cornered, she was much more willing to turn the table.

But the damn kid did seem to listen to her in a way.

"What then...are you doing with them?"

Damnit, boy, I can't say it aloud.

"I am....HHHHHHNG!" she started before stumbling back against the door, dropping a saber as a hand flew to her head as she doubled over in pain. Whatever wave of Dark energy Ibaris Varanin just sent through the temple, could not have come at a worse time.
"Damn you, Varanin." she clenched before the extent of the Wave assaulted her

Traitor...

TRAITOR..
​

TRAITOR..

"I'm not..."

It was almost a whimper.

She wasn't one. Not inherently. She'd always been loyal to one.

The sewers of Bast were cold. What was waiting on the other side was much worse. She was young. She was ready. She was Jedi. She was weak. Moving with New Imperial Operatives and Knights. Blade wanting to taste the blood of Sith. To bring an end to tyranny. But it wasn't the Jedi way....rather seek the good, the redemptive qualities. Be the Light in the Darkness.

Fat lot of good that did.

If it wasn't for that NO QUARTER, she'd be dead. Millions would be dead for no reason. It resonated with her more than the fluid doctrine of the Jedi. Order and peace.

No quarter....

The dropped lightsaber flew back into her hand before she straightened up. Strength drawn from Iron instead of the Dark pain.
"I'm a Weapon of the Empire." she said, swinging one saber with vehemence at him while stepping forward to drive him backward. "Either accept," another strong strike, "That my allegiance is where it's been since '65," lifting fingers of both hands to send a powerful Force Push toward him, all in quick succession.

"Or die as a failure to Order."

One blade struck overhead again as she spoke while the other would snake underneath toward his abdomen.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Closed: Lea Vi

[atmosphere]

Standing by one of the colossal, monochrome walls of the Jedi Temple the Blasphemer looks up at the war-torn sky, myriad raindrops banging a metallic rhythm upon his mask. He looks back at Välk standing taller than him, calmly unclips his lightsaber hilt from his belt, and locks his fingers around its grip. They both sense this terrible force emanating through the environment, but are each masters of the highest order: they take it, for in their soul and mind, there is little left to corrupt.

"Master, perhaps we should find another entrance for better efficiency?"

He inhales, and answers to the man fueled by anger. - This is it. - A distant thunder marks the beginning of the end. - We will try to avoid detection and go straight to the hidden vault that has the holocrons. - Ptolemis places his palm upon the monolithic wall, and stares at it. - I believe you can keep up. - Cold rain drips from his hand.

The Shadow Hand then exhales, and with a firm step forward, passes through the first of several walls in the Jedi Temple. Exercising his profound mastery over the Dark Side of the Force, Darth Ptolemis conceals himself as much as he is able; skulking in the shadows of the Force, glancing around the corners of the corridors. Soon enough, he arrives at a narrow hallway, seemingly derelict. Dust flutters in the air. At the end, a single, rudimentary blastdoor. Without hesitation, without stopping, the Shadow Hand grips the air as he walks toward the door, twisting his wrist, tearing the metal slab off its frame. He takes each step toward the pitch-black room with obsessive determination, sensing his destiny beyond the darkness.

He walks over the bent blastdoor and passes by the threshold of shadow, into the unknown.​

​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | The Jedi Temple
| Objective | No mercy! No respite!

All around the four of them, the carnage only gained in gruesome intensity as the engagement continued.​

​

<STATUS!> bellowed Henryk into the squad comms, all too aware of the fact that Jenn's furious duel rendered her completely unable to split her attention between the Dashade and commanding her Nite Owls.​

​

<Alor'ad, Ko'ren is down- we can't get her outta there, fire's too heavy!>​

​

<Pollux here- I'm not going to last much longer out in the open!>​

​

<I'm out of rockets, stormtroopers regrouping ahead!>​

​

Throwing his carbine off to the side, Henryk groaned as he lifted the boarding shield he'd taken cover behind whilst waiting for the ambush to be sprung by his Alor and her new Jedi friend... and, with thunderous steps, the Mandalorian charged forth, even as more and more of the rapidly-regrouping troopers redirected their efforts towards stopping him. Never before had he known such surety, such clarity; and when he finally reached the Empire's troops, his voice carried even over the din of battle, a rallying cry meant to reinvigorate his friends, his allies- his people.​

​

"Rebel! Rebel! REBEL!"​

​

Pollux was more than thankful for the assistance, watching the Alor'ad throw the boarding shield against one of the soldiers they were facing, stomping down onto it afterwards and crushing the man underneath. Where he used a Ukatian longsword, Henryk drew a beskad and pistol instead; with the immense strength at his disposal, a swing from the one-handed blade of beskar was more than enough to dismember any Imperial unlucky enough to be within range of the titan of a man.​

​

As the pair wrecked havoc onto the ranks of their enemy, the rest of the Nite Owls put the distraction to good use; the numerical superiority of their enemy would see them quickly overwhelmed if they allowed them to, and so they drew their own blades, charging forth with a shared cry of defiance. The fate of this skirmish would be decided by the most gruesome (and, admittedly, skillful) form of warfare: close-quarters combat. Blades sliced through flesh, blasters burned through unarmored body parts-​

​

And, to Jenn's undying chagrin, two of her warriors fell, the sheer volume of fire (and the point-blank nature of those shots) leaving little chance of survival. Two brilliant lights snuffed out, their thread cut short; she felt them pass through the Force, and felt only sorrow... if only at first.​

​

Jogon was larger than her, stronger than her, and, most likely, more durable in a fight than her. Where she needed to block or dodge his attacks, she suspected he was more than capable of handling his fair share of punishment with that freakish resilience of his - all of that, of course, before taking into account the baleful benediction empowering him. Barely able to activate her vambrace-mounted shield projector in time, the Mandalorian found herself forced back with each and every savage blow of his saber, nimble side-steps and rapid blocks from her shield just quick enough to save her from an inglorious end. Just as she had taken the initiative through relentless aggression earlier on, so did he now! The difference being, of course, that Jogon had been able to keep his guard up and back away until he could figure out a way to turn the tables on the Mandalorian. For each step back Jenn took, she could feel her endurance tested, all but forced down on one knee after a particularly vicious blow that knocked the wind out of her-​

​

And it was then that she unleashed her counter-attack.​

​

Her shield deactivating with but a flick of her wrist, Jenn activated her jetpack for a quick burst of speed- not to send her into the air and out of the Dashade's reach, but off and to the side. Just enough to give her room to lift her vambrace towards him an unleash her flamethrower. Not content to wait and see if the flames were dispersed through the sorcery of the dark side or otherwise avoided, she used this sudden barrage for what it was; a distraction.​

​

SHUK!​

​

Her knuckleplate vibroblade slid on out of its resting position between vambrace and hand, and Jenn made her move, running towards the hulking mass of violence that called itself Jogon. Fearlessly did she leap forward, then, and made a swift motion with her wrist, aiming to slice.​

​

Hurriedly backing away from her foe, Jenn waited, her gaze trained on the spot she had tried her best to cut through. Jogon might very well just dismiss the attack as nothing more than a testament to the weakness of his foes; all that effort, just for her to try and aim to cut at his forehead, rather than a more apt target?​

​

But Jenn had no intention to gouge deep into his flesh. Victory would not come to her through sheer force, she realized that much; but might alone was not her greatest strength. That was why she aimed to give him just the right kind of cut above the eyes in a horizontal line.​

​

The kind that bled, and led to blood pouring down to obscure one's vision, if the victim did not stop to wipe away at their forehead ever so often.​

​

"Nobody will remember your name."​

​

​

| Friendly | Corazona von Ascania
| Hostile | Jogon Isar ​

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise expected Amani to chastise her for the insult. Instead she sensed her mirth, pleased at the trash-talking. Was it still cool if her master approved?

“Both sides do their fair share of blabbering,” she replied. He broke the block, but she hardly moved even when he shoved her. The Sith leapt backwards—to get away from her, she thought with some amusement. “I just thought you should know that you’re a brainwashed manlet enthralled to a master who probably doesn’t give two chits about you.”

While his attention was split between her and controlling his thrown lightsaber, Eloise advanced toward him. He looked so average, so ordinary. Boring. No one would miss him. No one would come seeking revenge.

As Amani sent his blade spinning back toward him, Eloise thrust her blade toward his heart, intending to impale him while he was distracted.

Amani Serys Sorren Moonstrider​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

Heavenheim, Midvinter
Half a galaxy away...

"See? You just go along the fibres, and the wood will do most of the work for you," Grandpa demonstrated to his grandson Thyri, named after his dear departed brother. The boy nodded, taking the planer tool when offered to him and mimicking Grandpa's motion. He smiled when feeling a set of large digits running through his auburn curls, telling him he was doing a good job. "There you go! Precisely so," Grandpa grabbed him by both shoulders as if to steady him, before putting his arms around him. He felt Grandpa's lips pressed against the back of his head and smiled, leaning into the embrace.

"High five," Grandpa's huge hand appeared before him, which Thyri readily slapped his against. "You'll have a new set of skis done in no time!"

They lingered in their embrace, until Grandpa's smile faded away and his hold slackened as his attention was turned elsewhere. Somewhere none but he could perceive. It had happened before, Thyri recalled. He knew what that look on Grandpa's face meant, and held on to him all the more tightly.

"D-don't g-g-go," he pleaded, his stutter always becoming more pronounced when upset. Grandpa remained still for a long time, staring off into what only he could behold, before turning his gaze down at his grandchild. He wiped the tear from his cheek and kissed him on the forehead, whispering promises that he would come back to him, but also encouraged him to let go.

Then Grandpa stood, sat Thyri down on his empty work stool, and stepped out of his workshop. There, mere feet away from him, appeared the aetherial forest laden with snow where none should exist in the first place, distant horns of war beckoning him. Grandpa entered the wintry woodland where spirits witnessed him from either side. They were summoning him to fight for them once more. To dispense justice.

He soon found himself clad in his hallmark armour, black steel with golden lion iconography aplenty, along with Anarion at his side and his shield strapped to his left arm. His right hand was gripping his helmet adorned on either side with gryphon feathers. Grandpa was gone. There was only the Lion.

​

New Jedi Temple, Coruscant
With: NJO | GADF
Against: Open | DE
Sword | Shield | Armour

Within the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple did he materialise, having stepped through the snowy forest and come out the other end like some mythical figure out of a fable. A knight of old, bedecked in plate so simple in function they seemed outlandish by modern technological standards. From his back flowed a cloak of shimmering blue with a rampant lion emblazoned upon it, and his long hair was pinned back and held in place so it would not hinder him.

He eyed the stunned intruders with a serene gaze before putting his helmet on, masking that calm confidence behind its imposing visage. Light emanated from the scabbard as he drew his sword in a deliberate fashion, and as he held it aloft its pristine blade bathed the halls of the Jedi Temple in a golden glow, dispelling all manners of shadowy illusions and instilling the defenders with newfound hope and vigour.

"I am Thurion Heavenshield," he finally announced his arrival to friend and foe alike with a flourish of his sword and raising of his shield. "Defier of the Dark and Justice of the Force. Thoust shan't desecrate these hallowed halls any longer — I decree it so!"

A trio of Sith Knights were the first to dive into the fray. Thurion blocked each of their lightsabers with his shield and swept them aside with one swing of Anarion, the mere touch of its blade causing followers of the Dark to burst into holy fire. They were left as mere husks inside dead suits of armour, their ashen remains scattered by the wind.

"Rise up, Sons and Daughters of the Alliance," he cried out, his voice amplified to carry across the surface of Coruscant. "Yield not one more step to the enemy! The eyes of all Free Peoples of the Galaxy are upon thee this day — they bid thee stand and fight!"

Then the Lion charged into the enemy lines, committing to the grim task he was sent to accomplish with brutal efficiency.

 

[Sorren Moonstrider]

Amani Serys | Eloise Dinn
​

I should have known I wouldn't take the master so easy. My blade boomeranged as another knight fell to her. The spinning saber impacted the Force shield Vinaze had created around himself, deactivating the blade and dropping the hilt to the ground with a clank.

WIth my remaining saber I managed to knock aside the apprentice's thrust for my vitals, but I once again had to move onto the backfoot, inching closer to my master.

The two remaining knights converged on Serys, swinging wildly. Their rage boiled and burst. The dark side flowed through them truly now that they'd watched their comrades die, and so easily too. Desperation would draw them into anger, anger into strength.

"What have I got to talk about with Jedi?" I spat at the master, "and you, giant, what do you know? I know my master doesn't care for me, just as I don't care for him. You speak as though it isn't my right, my destiny, to slay him one day! I can test my strength by slaying you first!"

I pulled my other saber to me through the Force, igniting it, and charged both sabers as hard and as fast as I could in a lunging stab towards Dinn.

 

[Stennis Fel]

P E N I T E N T
THE LIGHTSWORN
Battle Armor | Lightsaber
SE | Amena Kader

IV : DEATH IS REMEMBERED
THORNS​

He grit his teeth with determination to her words of deceit strewn over her concealed intentions. "You lie...you lie!" He barked out, his blade swiping up to block the overhead strike before stepping forward and to the left side, committing as his blade downward to swiftly retort the slice toward his abdomen as he sought to close the gap with the woman, delving within her guard as his other hand, grasped in iron reached to snatch ahold of her throat and slam her skull against the wall behind her.

"No true son or daughter of the Empire would march in his shadow." He said through gritted teeth, the iron visage of Fel clasped over his features as his pale grey eyes peered out from beneath. He ground the blade against hers before he swiped his foot behind hers to try and curb her balance, shifting away as he cut a preemptive swipe up to clash with her upper saber, another to swipe at the lower before he swayed back, swinging his blade up in a predictable manner to block an expected strike from overhead before he swiftly deactivated his saber to clear the blade of hers only to reactivate it again once it was past her blade to hold the end close to her face.

"Tell me...if you are so true to your convictions, the sworn oath you took to the Empire how you still serve...or I shall strike you down now." He threatened.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

Allies: The New Jedi Order
Location: The Jedi Concourse
Opposition: Open

The chaos of the battle was overwhelming. Somehow, Balun and Cordelia Dimitte had been separated, and he was constantly on the move, dodging blaster bolts and attacks from the Dark Empire's Force Users. He assumed these lightsaber-wielding adversaries were Sith, as he had never experienced such intense combat. Those who spotted Balun aimed to kill him, forcing him to defend himself while avoiding collisions with both allies and enemies. The many combatants made the situation far more complex than one-on-one combat, requiring him to split his focus between repelling attackers and avoiding collateral damage from nearby strikes. To make matters worse, there was no clear objective or end to the Sith-Imperial forces swarming the Temple grounds.

Balun's copper lightsaber swept upward from the floor to block a two-handed downward strike from one of the dark-side Force Users. He then pivoted on his front foot, bent at the waist, and spun a full rotation, ducking under the attacker's arms. Coming out behind the armoured opponent, Balun's lightsaber grazed their wrist as he stepped back to create some distance. His breathing was ragged, and his hair was soaked with sweat. He had never exerted himself this much before. Combat had always been gruelling, but now he faced not just one opponent; for every enemy he fended off, another took their place, and the fatigue was beginning to take its toll.

Once again, the warrior lunged at Balun, with a piercing strike aimed to run him through. Balun quickly sidestepped and batted away the blade with a heavy swing of his own, knocking it sideways to prevent it from following his movement. Their lightsabers locked, and his opponent seemed stronger. Balun's copper blade crackled and discharged heat as he pushed it forward, driving his lightsaber to the hilt of his enemy's weapon. The Sith-Imperial's weapon disengaged as Balun's copper blade sliced through the inner mechanics of their lightsaber hilt, the strength that he placed in keeping them back causing his blade to move through the hilt and one of their hands clean off.

Without their weapon and the agony and horror of losing one of their hands, the threat was over from this foe. The young Jedi soon turned to the next foe within proximity, hoping to afford himself the energy to defend himself adequately.

 

[Sinestra]

TAG: Romi Jade
​

"You're not ready to shed your identity. You're still tormented by the past." Romi drew her hilt. "You're lost."

"I've had enough of your dribble!" Sinestra snarled, tearing the ceiling down on her former mentor before scrambling up to her feet. A shrill through the Force took both by surprise, petrifying Romi for a moment; a moment that seemed to last a century. Sinestra watched as the ceiling caved open, chunks of permacrete and durasteel and ancient stone plummeting down to bury her former master in a coffin made from the ruins of the Jedi's false teachings. She reveled in the sight -- in the inevitable doom, in the vision -- slowly materializing to life, and her bloodied lips tugged into a wicked smile.

In an instant, that smile was gone. Erased by Romi's form emerging like a predator from the cloud of dust and debris. The Jedi Master crashed down upon her with the purpose and nature of a storm; unbridled and unyielding. Her onslaught forced Sinestra into a desperate retreat; red and purple clashed and interlocked with such speed their blades seemed to turn into a single fiery display of magenta. The battle of Coruscant intesified, drawing ever nearer to the sacred Jedi Temple: the rattling and rocking turned into shockwaves, often showering the two duelists in plaster and stone, and further taxing their skill and stamina to maintain their balance and concentration.

The battle ebbed and flowed; Romi's weakened connection to the Force offset by years of experience forged in battle, while Sinestra's dark side flames burning inside counterbalanced the plaguing ruminations, chewing at the back of her skull. Realizing she could not handle the momentum, Sinestra parried swing aimed at her throat and disengaged with a swift pirroute to a safer distance and out of Romi's reach. She was panting, her breathing labored by the intensity of the fight. Sweat poured down her brow, temples and cheeks, and pain flared over her whole form.

In that brief moment of reprieve, the protective barrier every trained force user maintained like second skin to fend off their adversary's attempts of using the Force against them, waned and Romi was presented with an opening.

 

[Kybo Ren]

Location: Jedi Archives
Enemies: GA: Jido Myyse
Equipment: Lightsaber, Knight of Ren armour, DG-41 Inferos Disruptor Shotgun, HG-88 Big Iron Hand Cannon

His left hand ignited his weapon, a brilliant purple blade streaming from the hilt and into being as the Sage landed on the floor, bringing the lightsaber into both hands before him, ready to meet the unstoppable force with patience and grace. The light was Jido's ally, and he felt naught but acceptance. Everything was as it was meant to be, and he placed his faith in the Force to lead him forward.

Waves, whorls, twists in the Force of rage and fear (and shame of that fear) coruscated off the brutish pirate, a cloud vomitted forth akin to the Shadow spoken of in the Ren philosophy. Kybo dissolved into instinct and the tossing and turning of his mind- in wide, strong strokes he slashed at the old Master, aiming to simply overpower and break through blocks and parries with his fury and mass. All thoughts of plunder were gone from his mind for the moment- although the sparking of the data consoles became a focus for his mind, for such was the allure of thievery and brigandage, loot and booty in the mind of the twisted warrior.

After the first swings at Jido he tightened his movement, turning his sloppy swipes into clear cuts. Kybo had no illusions that this old Master was strong in his connection with the Force, but perhaps this fool could be made to leave. For the Force might be his ally, but Kybo was a student of the infinite Shadow.

 

[Jido Myyse]

Location: The Jedi Archives, The Jedi Temple
Opposition: Kybo Ren

Patience, focus, and calm.

Jido Myyse stood resolute, waiting until the last possible moment before raising his purple blade in a precise defensive parry. This calculated move redirected his adversary's weapon, allowing Jido to leap backward and deftly avoid a subsequent slash. The elderly sage then transformed into a blur of somersaults, his purple blade trailing in a continuous arc with each rotation. Utilizing the art of Ataru, Jido engaged in aerial combat, leveraging speed and maneuverability, starkly contrasting his usual composed demeanor.

With each leap, Jido attuned himself to the Force, letting it guide his instincts. He strategically positioned his lightsaber to protect his flank from the Knight of Ren's erratic strikes, maintaining a calculated distance. For now, Jido focused on defense, expertly parrying the Dark Sider's lightsaber movements rather than initiating an attack.

The Knight of Ren regained his focus, his strikes becoming precise and technically sound. Being far larger than Jido, his sheer strength posed a grave disadvantage in close combat. Jido relied on the Force to stay mobile and maintain his speed in evasion. He couldn't directly block the Ren's strikes; instead, he parried to redirect the blade, often narrowly avoiding harm.

 

[Cesare Demici]

Allies: Sinestra , Ibaris Varanin , Kaleb Sunwalker, Prowler, Creuat, Irae, Vorm, Amena Kader

Engaging: Balun Dashiell , Cordelia Dimitte

Theme

Cesare's journey through the temple had been largely unhindered, as most of those present seemed to be focused elsewhere. There was an advantage to that, he would think to himself, for it allowed him do deliver precise, decisive strikes where needed. As he darted around the halls of the ancient building, Cesare could hear the growing sound of blaster and saber in the distance. He had managed to find his way around the enemy... now it was time to capitalize on it.

He turned the corner to the sight of great violence within the large hall, his eyes narrowing as he dashed forward, igniting his blade as the Force enhanced the speed of his steps. An unfortunate Jedi was the first to meet his blade, the argent white of his blade running the unsuspecting opponent through from the back. He had not yet bled his blade, for he had only recently gotten it back. He had to kill a fellow prisoner to prove his worth to the Dark Side Elite, and only then had he been allowed to carry his lightsaber once again.

He quickly pulled the blade from the corpse, eyeing Balun Dashiell before charging at him, his lightsaber at the ready.

The enemy was all around, yet he cared little. His mission would remain... he would get close to Solipsis, close enough to kill him and earn vengeance for the murder of his father. But that would take time... and plenty of proving his value. Just as he killed that prisoner back on Tython, Cesare would kill as many as it took in order for that value to be immeasurable...

And only then would he kill the Sith'ari.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Engaging: Serenity Qi

Merchant of The Void

Blood flowed across the Coruscant cityscape, plumes of smoke rising from the fires of battle that raged around them. There was little chance that Khamul would miss such an opportunity to bring Death's Hand into the fray, for taking such a bastion to one of the many institutions that kept his people at bay would be a legendary victory. He had already sent several of the faithful to back up the other Sith that attacked the temple, and others to assist the Khanate in their efforts elsewhere. But for the Hellhound of Mandalore, there were other goals to attend to. The temple held many secrets, after all, and he would make it a point to uncover what he could. It was here that Solipsis had procured the shard of the Great Crystal of Aatonai, which was now within the hilt of Mandalore's Lament.

He could feel the stranger in the shadows, their anger lighting them up like a bright light in the darkness of the hall. Khamul calmly approached, his masked gaze peering across the room as he slowly closed the gap.

"You don't seem like a Jedi, yet I sense you are not here on behalf of the Empire."

His hand drifted toward Mandalore's Lament as he spoke.

"Whatever your aim, it is of little concern. But... should you attempt to hinder me, I will break your bones against the walls of this room."

Khamul's endeavors were emboldened by the fires of ambition, more than ever before. His time away from the faithful had honed his vision for their future, and within that renewed vision came a drive greater than the pull of a supermassive black hole. And in the end... he would not be denied.

 

[Balun Dashiell]

Allies: The New Jedi Order
Location: The Jedi Concourse
Opposition: Cesare Demici

As Balun Vale turned to face the next of the Imperial invaders, his eyes locked with that of Cesare Demici 's. The other man already held his lightsaber at the ready and immediately rushed to engage Balun. Both hands gripped the hilt of his copper blade tightly, sliding his right foot back and placing most of his weight in anticipation of a bolstered defence.

Already, his body ached, and yet he had little time to focus on the pain while the Dark Jedi neared so violently.

Just as Cesare Demici reached him, Balun stepped in towards him and thrust his lightsaber mid-centre to the opposing man's torso, seeking to impale the warrior with the assistance of the momentum that Cesare had carried in his sprint for the younger Jedi.

Typically, Balun would have first sought to evade before moving to retaliate; however, Cesare had rushed at him and not given Balun the time to consider his response, only to act in the hope that he would either force his opponent to alter their aggressive engagement or otherwise wound them deeply enough that it would force the fight to end as quickly as it had begun. At the point when Balun had been fighting off the imperial troops, he was already feeling fatigued by the battle and thus could not afford for this man to prolong the duration of their duel for too long.​

 

[Kybo Ren]

Location: Jedi Archives
Enemies: GA: Jido Myyse
Equipment: Lightsaber, Knight of Ren armour, DG-41 Inferos Disruptor Shotgun, HG-88 Big Iron Hand Cannon

Clever- using his size and mobility to redirect the battering strikes. At this rate, he would be a lumbering nurox easily directed by the smaller Master. And being his home turf, the Jedi had a massive advantage in repositioning.

Kybo stepped back from his last swing and gathered his frustration- then exhaled, sending a telekinetic blast of air all around him, creating some space. He took stock of their location- nowhere near the entrance, surrounded by stacks, a large study area nearby and a long staircase up.

"Come on you scoundrels, to me, your captain!" He tried to keep the now subsiding dark emotions out of his shout.

For some reason or other, their shouts didn't seem to get any closer- perhaps fumbling through the unfamiliar place across rubble. Blaster fire echoed, sporadic. Either there more even more Jedi stopping his pirates, or Kybo's soldiers had bumped into Alliance soldiers. Either way, they'd be late in helping their captain- but inevitably, they'd come.

Kybo located the Jedi Master, keeping some distance from the Knight of Ren as they prepared to lock blades again.

"Best you give up now- there's your exit, old man," Kybo waved at the stairs, in mock bravado. "No one will judge you for it, for I don't raid and tell." With that, Kybo drew his hand cannon and fired again- electrical discharge rounds, aimed at the far corner of this area where the stacks were cramped. If the Jedi went to block it, it simply delayed time until Kybo's men reached the pair and overwhelmed the Jedi- so much the better. If he ignored it, well, no skin off Kybo's nose.

 

[Spindle]

"Are you on your way to help Master Jonyna and the others?"

Her gut reaction had her nearly snorting at the boy's question. The only help she'd have to offer this Master Jonyna would be that of the mortal variety (or perhaps fashion advice, though that was a constant). The fact that she was even remotely mistaken for an ally of this master was a hair shy of an insult, saved only by the fact that Spindle could use the confusion to her advantage.

"I am, yes. Or I was, at least. Whatever this is threw me off course." she made a vague gesture to the area around them, meaning to indicate the burning sensation that still prickled her nerves. Another spasm ran through her elongated limbs in well-timed emphasis. Paper-thin lips pulled into a tight line. Oh, how she'd love to dig her shears in the back of whoever had caused this field of fire. A tantalizing thought, perhaps even a goal, for the future.

At present, though, she had other fools to fry. The Nagai's eyes were wide as she spoke, playing up the role of one both weary and rushed. "I have a feeling this isn't ending any time soon. Please, would you direct me to Master Jonyna? I have news to report."

Aris Noble​

 

[Makko Vyres]

TEMPLE LANDING BAY

SHIELD | ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | DRONES | SHIP | PISTOL​

"You too! Can't guarantee another shuttle!" The gunner ran for Makko, still yelling as if the engines were right in there ear.

Makko looked over his shoulder at the temple. The waves of darkness still crashed upon the shore of his tired mind. He had barely recovered from the anaesthetic. It was getting difficult to stay focused.

It was hard to admit, but perhaps the responsible course of action was to get out of the combat zone so that others were not worrying about him.

"Yeah, let's..."

Her bond with Makko wasn't severed - not by a long shot, with what they'd been through - but it did begin to twist and tangle, warping into something ugly.

Makko stumbled back, his fist pressed to her sternum. That had hurt.

He couldn't tell what had happened. The bond was suddenly resistant to his thoughts travelling through to Cora.

Jedi were fighting and dying.

This was their home. It was his home. The only one that had ever looked after him trying to take advantage of him.

Makko knew that he kept getting himself hurt because he made stupid decisions. His skills couldn't carry him out of the trenches he threw himself into.

"Fuck it," he muttered. What was one more act of stupidity. His right hand gripped the hilt of his lightsaber more tightly.

"Go!" he called to the gunner, turning his back. The transport lifted away, escorted to safety. At least that act had put a transport of people out of harm's way.

Three drones descended to float around him. With a single thought he sent them ahead of himself, their sensors relaying everything they saw back to him.

Step by step, Makko made his way down from the landing bay and towards the chaos.

 

[Malva'ikh Dralidok]

|| LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE ||

~Day of judgement, God is calling~

OBJECTIVES: Drag Efret Farr to the Dark Side
TAG: Astri Elyse | Efret Farr

Spoiler

​

CORUSCANT, CORE WORLDS

“HARRRRRRRRRRRRR”

Jolts of liquid-like burning sensation surged through my blood vessels in what can only be described as similar to having your flesh carved out and hit directly with a Force Lightning. My recently fixed forearm wound feels like it just splattered gallons of blood out, yet nothing really happen physically.

TAKE IT OUT. TAKE IT OUT.

The horrifically perplexing sensation stopped me from crawling on the ceiling a few metres behind the pair, driving my body rolling and squirming on the floor, every fibers of my body rejecting the strange feeling, yet my soul starting to welcomes it completely.

“NGHHHHHHHHHHHH… NYAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

TAKE IT OUT, TAKE IT OUT.

Swooping my Dagger, I slashed my healed wound open in one slash, turning the previously foreign sensation to an almost out of body pain that had my consciousness drifting in and out of my body.

LET ME OUT. KORAH MATAH KORAH RAHTAMAH. LET ME OUT. NYOHAH KEELAH KORAH RAHTAHMAH.

This has never happened when I wasn’t the one willingly summoned it. One blink I can sense the Jedi Master screaming and weeping in terror, affected by the same horror I had. EMBRACE THE PAIN. Another blink I was walking closer, scent of fear gushing from the Padawan. BECOME ONE WITH YOUR FEAR.

GET OUT OF ME.

Yet another blink, and the Nephilim is already kneeling over Efret, Sith Dagger pointing down just underneath her neck.

“KORAH MATAH KORAH RAHTAHMAH, KORAH RAHTAHMAH YOODHAH KORAH, KORAH SYAHDHO RAHTAHMAH DAANYAH, KORAH KEELAH DAANYAH.”

The Nephilim lowered the Dagger, the edge so close from touching Efret’s skin. God didn’t come today to take a life, but to take a soul. Drag it down the deepest abyss of terror, horror, pain, and addiction of the Dark Side of the Force. The Dagger, the vessel of the Dark Side, will undoubtedly once again show the Master Jedi intoxicating memories that will drift her slowly to the Dark Side, if nothing is done to stop the proceedings.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

All composure shattered in an instant. Valery's taunting choice of words proved unnecessary, as the mere sight of her sent this Master of Ren into a fit of rage. It was a dangerous thing — it made him chaotic and far more likely to leave openings she could exploit, but it also made him far more unpredictable at the same time. His blinding rage could push him through pain and suffering, beyond what he could endure without surrendering himself to the Dark Side and his hatred. She'd have to fight cautiously or risk unexpected trouble along the way.

But first, she needed to focus on the student.

Unlike the Master of Ren, Olorion Fossk was quiet and calculated. Surrounded by more experienced fighters, he seemed to understand what his role should be. He wasn't rushing in to attack, hoping to prove himself worthy by single-handedly slaying the Sword of the Jedi. He knew better than to try such a thing. His own control of the Dark manifested, as he drew his pike and summoned the Force to split apart the air with lightning.

In an instant, Valery's blade snapped up into a guard to catch the stream of deadly electricity. It was ruthless and chaotic, sending little arcs and sparks jumping around her blade. She felt it sting and burn against the skin of her arms, but it wasn't going to seriously harm her. It did, however, force her into a defensive stance — one that was only interrupted when Detritus charged and got too close for the lightning to continue without harming him in the process.

A first strike battered against her blade, surprising her with his raw power, but she held on. The second would have been enough to send her body stumbling back, but rather than allow that to happen, Valery loosened her grip and watched the hilt of her lightsaber fly through the air. To avoid a lethal follow-up attack, she jumped back with Force-augmented speed and summoned the hilt of her second lightsaber into her hands, igniting it immediately to draw a guard.

"Not bad," she admitted, but then she moved. Like a bolt of lightning, Valery closed the distance in an instant, ripping up the tiles of the Temple's floor in her wake. She charged at the Master of Ren, but watched the other catch up to exploit their advantage in numbers. Valery forced herself to an abrupt stop as a result, and unleashed all her momentum and power in the form of a telekinetic blast, meant to separate the two by throwing them around.

Then she moved again, not for the Master of Ren, but the student. She pierced through the cloud of dust and debris thrown up by her attack, and thrust her blade straight for his center mass.

Detritus Ren Olorion Fossk ​

 

[Aris Noble]

So she was affected by whatever had hurt Seszil? Aris was starting to get the feeling that the uncomfortableness even he felt was very much an all around thing. Did- was there a way to stop it? Maybe Master Jonyna had a plan? His expression tightened at the urgency of it. If Seszil had been knocked out from it, did that mean the others were in just as bad of a state? Even the woman in front of him was hurting.

Without the ability to feel the danger in the Force, he nodded his head and stepped back onto his path to the front lines.

"She's this way. Let's be quick."

Spindle