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

[Efret Farr]

Malva'ikh Dralidok Astri Elyse

Efret squeezed Astri’s hand back. <You-ask-me later.> Now was not the time for a conversation—even a short one in Sign Language. Still, though, the master hoped that she didn’t seem dismissive, and she also hoped that Astri could find hope in the concept of later.

Suddenly, Efret’s signing hand flew to her own mouth, clamping down over it. A thin canyon was beginning to unzip on her right forearm in time with Malva’ikh making his cut over her name on his own arm.

It was very visible thanks to her sleeveless tunics. She couldn’t let Astri see.

As gently as the pain and pressing urgency would allow, Efret put her fingers under Astri's chin and, should her gaze be drawn by the blood, redirect the girl's attention. After looking into Astri's eyes for a few moments stretched into eternity, Efret laid her forehead on the padawan's. Her eyes clamped closed, her teeth biting into her own lower lip, attempts to brace against the pain.

The image and smell of some small animal's spilled offal flashed across Efret's senses. Her breathing, still quiet, grew erratic. She searched for a mental anchor.

Gurrat.

Efret, with her hand underneath Astri's chin, felt for the bangles that they had recently had fitted by a jeweler in the Senate district who hadn't evacuated with most of his clients. Though she did not allow herself to melt into the Echo of Lorrd the bracelets contained, touching them was like immediate relief to a burn.

Her breath evened.

She pulled back to look at Astri. <We go-back museum. Out window. Climb-to banquet hall.> The likelihood that backtracking would confuse a Dark Side Elite for any extended period of time was low, but Efret saw it as her only good option. So she reached out into the threads of Force, grasping the ones attached to the exit out of the laboratory, and yanked the door open. With any luck, it would give the impression that they had managed to slip out that way. If it did, she'd slip out of her and Astri's hiding place instead, then out the way they had come.

 

[Serenity Qi]

Engaging: Cesare Demici
FYI: Sinestra Ibaris Varanin Prowler II Kaleb Sunwalker Irae Vorm Creuat Aaaine


The thrill had not assuaged her thirst. Ever since being bonded to the Soulblade known as Dana, she had felt the constant hunger to fight. It was a urge that had been unexpected for the scientists of the Unblessed. Was it the Soulblade, the SHIVA drug that coursed through her veins, or was it just her release after feeling powerles against Blessed individuals for so long. Serenity hoped it was the latter. She wanted some part of this feeling to be about who she was.

Who she was now, was what she imagined godhood to be, she felt untouchable. The wall into the temple had been scaled with ease, the Soulblade‘s nanotech morphing the Songsteel metal into claws for each hand to pull herself up the side. She had climbed with ease, like walking when aided of a conveyer belt. As dangerous as the temple was, it was also a perfect opportunity.

She was here to retrieve any dirt she could, any intel. It seemed a small thing to her, but the Unblessed still wished to find propoganda to spin against the Jedi and turn public opinion. When they had one’s like her though, why didn’t they just kill them all.

Kill them all.

The voice of the Soulblade spoke to her, desiring the blood of Jedi and Sith alike spilled before it. Despite her mission of espionage, she hoped that she was found by someone. Some that could be her first test subject.

Her part of the temple was quiet, but it was far from anything important. It was far from her destination should she walk in straight lines. However, the beauty of this weapon had begun to show itself in bits and pieces. No direction was out of question.

Pausing two-thirds of the way down a corridor, Serenity turned, long green hair whipping about, and she jumped onto the wall and climbed with her makeshift claws. Upon reaching the corner between wall and ceiling, she reached forth with the Soulblade and touched the ceiling. The gem upon the back of her weapon glowed as the adaption process began to take place and the ceiling began to disassemble on a molecular level, and then resemble under her dangling left foot where the duracret dropped off in jagged pieces that she had not the time nor interest in moulding into something more.

The whole was soon big enough for her to crawl through, which she did, finding herself in a hallway that had recently seen action. It was dimly lit, walls gouged with saber burns. She could hear footsteps. She slinked back into the shadows, hand resting on the steel door beside her. The gem on her weapon glowed faintly as the metal from the door was absorbed and repurposed by the Soulblade.

The Unblessed call her an abomination. It was a title she wore for the good of their cause. It was a title she would earn in the eyes of they which stepped around the corner.

 

[Kybo Ren]

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

Ah, Coruscant. What better place to plunder than the jeweled heart of the Galaxy?

Pfah. It was all flash. This place wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It was all just Plascrete and Durasteel towers- either too cramped or too empty. Kybo knew full well that the real prize wouldn't be in the lightly-defended urban sectors. Oh, no. The greatest treasure always had the deadliest guards. Kybo Ren, Scourge of the Stars and Knight of Ren, disembarked his rickety shuttle- lost amidst the chaos swirling around the Temple. The shuttle would have looked less than harmless, almost a repurposed skiff-like barge, which it was. Not a high priority target for any defenders if it was lost, and no skin off the marauder's nose. Besides, where he and his boys were going, cargo capacity wouldn't matter. This treasure was weightless and priceless.

And it all comes in different forms... Knowledge was the key to the Jedi's power. It was their pillar- their history and lineage. Drawing strength and wisdom and certainty from it- the Knights of Ren could only muster something approximating that kind of institutional certainty. Not that it was ever their focus. Live and take and destroy enough, and by your acts shall they remember you.

That poor bastard Kyrel Ren ... good enough skipper an' all, then he had to go and get himself offed by that Jedi. 'least he went out reaching for the highest stars. What had the pirate done in the intervening time? The past years were bountiful for he and his crew, even as the Order was scattered with the collapse of the Maw. But taking revenge of petty pirates and raiding defenceless cities far away from others... It was almost a chore, made worse by the actual chore of running the planets he'd conquered briefly.

Kybo looked up at the imposing edifice of the Temple as he and a dozen of his clippers rushed along the shadows, trying to locate the Archive entrance they'd taken off that idiot smuggler last month. His heart raced at the fantasy of bringing his flotilla above the place and melting the place to slag... but no, not even the Stranger Danger could do that without sustained bombardment. For all his petty achievements, including freeing (what was left of) his soul back into his body, there were always bigger fish. And they always wanted to take his lunch.

Better to leave the temple proper to Detritus Ren and Vorik and the others for now, he thought. The youngblood had the fire of his old man, Kybo admitted.

They stopped by the side entrance, his rigger setting up an improvised charge to blow it wide open. He needed more victories, more infamy- he was coasting. Who the hell even heard of the Scourge of Tarnooga?

Here's to changing that today!

The marauders smashed their way through the side entrance, gunning down the surprised Alliance troopers and foolish padawans in their way.

"Speed and mass of fire, boys! An' it ain't just an equation!" The group kept up the pressure, not stopping for the petty baubles ensconed in the walls here. No, they were here for the Archives. Kybo was proud of his crew of ne'er-do-wells. They'd grown strong and numerous in the years since, but too many were dead weight. Better to jettison them and start over with the best. And he had, as per the revelations received on Prakith.

Jido's eyes glanced back towards the entrance to the Archives, where the two Jedi continued to deflect incoming blaster fire. The image certainly matched the alert raised on his comlink. "You're going to make a mess in here..." he grumbled, returning the comlink to his belt and beginning to make his way slowly towards the pair, taking each step with careful purpose, using his cane for support;

The two Jedi were in good defensive positions, expertly reflecting the bolts. This deep into the building, Kybo's senses were overwhelmed by the stinking harmony of the Force, clouding his senses. But there beyond this last set of doors was the Archives... and a Master.

Kybo switched from his Disruptor Shotgun and ignited his lightsaber, charging forward, slashing past the Jedi, who dodged but opened the way for him to storm past. His marauders got back to shooting at the pair, who returned to defending themselves from being overwhelmed by blaster fire, too busy to chase Kybo.

"Tell them to go back home and leave me to my studies," he told the Jedi, speaking as though the act was a simple one and that the sudden appearance of warfare was naught but a minor frustration, an interruption to what otherwise would have been a good day.

"'fraid we cain't do that, old man. We've come to relieve you of them!" The Marauder unholstered his Big Iron Hand Cannons and fired as he charged, Verpine secondaries too, sending both disruptor shots and cluster explosives downrange.

 

[Sinestra]

TAG: Romi Jade​

"You don't have what it takes to walk this path..." Her voice trickled off into a whimper of pain; she lowered her head and clenched the side of her jolting body, pulling herself together by sheer willpower. "You're amateurish...sloppy..." she continued.

"Ha!" Sinestra scoffed loudly as she watched Romi slowly stagger back to her feet. She refused to approach her former mentor for a killing blow, opting to indulge herself in Romi's pain. The suffering felt like heat in her guts, heat turning to flames as the dark side, fueled by the emotion, coursed through every fiber and cell of her body.

"You can't even kill me. I'm starting to think you don't want to." She smirked. "You've got to commit..."

"Jorus knew you were meant for so much more, Sinestra. You were meant to bring balance, not destruction."

The cruel grin of satisfaction on Sinestra's face went even at the invoking of her father's memory; his name like cold water dowsing the fire that burned inside her, leaving only an ember beneath a wet and sober blanket of guilt. She realized she was holding her breath, choking on regret that began to well up in her throat. Perturbed, her body trembled and she anxiously dug deep into more recent memories -- her despair and anger of failing to save her father -- to reignite the fire of the dark side. But it was as a struggle as lighting up a match in a rainstorm.

Her lapse of focus caught her foolishly by surprise: a chair, hurled by Romi's telekinetic touch, crashed at her back and sent her tumbling forward. She rolled over a few times before her body stopped on the other side of the chamber. Ugh! Gritting her teeth, and driven more by instinct and despair rather than a deft touch, Sinestra retaliated from her prone position. Her mind crushed the hanging roof tiles above Romi's head, seeking to collapse a section of the ceiling over her former mentor.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Jedi Temple, Greenhouse //:
//: Vorm //:

Forward soldier, recon, scout, and bait. Different terms to describe the role Allyson Locke typically found herself in. Coruscant was a place she never figured the Darkness would touch again. The planet flourished under the watchful gaze of the Alliance and found prosperity with the aid of the Jedi. Never in her lifetime did she figure the Sith would bleed its streets. The attack on Coruscant was a devastating blow, shattering the peace and prosperity that had been carefully cultivated.

She moved quickly, dipping in and out of the shadows. The Force wrapped its protective grace around her, keeping her hidden from the eyes of the Sith. These weren't the Kainites she was used to; they were something more, and their brutality was more akin to godless monsters. At least the Empire had class; they seemed above the animalistic desire to destroy.

Allyson knelt beside one of the ruins scattered in the tunnels under the Temple. The attack on Coruscant brought back old memories that she struggled to push from her mind so she could focus on setting the explosive. She remembered running through the tunnels as her fingers worked quickly to wire the device. Allyson was young and stupid. Foolishly infatuated with another whom she tried to protect that day. With every blink of her eyes, she could see the destruction the Sith had brought upon the heads of the first Alliance. All of it was so fresh in her memory, the smell of debris, the cries of the dying, and the touch of her fingertips leaving the Shadows as they separated.

Twin hearts tightened in her chest as the Corellian placed the explosive trip mine. Too much time had passed, and Allyson did her best not to let her mind wander to her Echani Grandmaster.

She would spend the rest of her life if she could spend one more moment with the woman. The woman was never hers to lose, but always one she loved alone.

Allyson stood and dusted herself off; this wasn't the place or the time to be thinking of someone. She stepped forward to fade into the Darkness again, but almost instantly, the burning sensation surged through her spine.

They were closer than she thought. Cursing quietly, Allyson faded from sight and moved. The burning grew stronger the closer she got to them. Crawling through one of the hidden holes, Allyson found herself back on the surface. She recognized quickly where she was, but before she could begin to set more traps, a monstrous figure burst through the ground, a Sithspawn, destroying everything around him.

The sight of him made the woman stop; she watched in horror, seeing the figure stand taller than a Wookie or a bantha.

"Kark me…" She whispered and drew her bow. It seemed she hadn't been seen yet. Drawing upon a kyber-tipped arrow, she infused it with Force Light and drew the bow's taut string. Quickly fading back into view, the Corellian smirked. Taking aim with one good eye, she fired the arrow. It whistled and remained true to its target.

She aimed for the most prominent thing there, Vorm would be her prey tonight.

 

[Jido Myyse]

Location: The Jedi Archives, The Jedi Temple.
Wearing: Traditional Jedi Garments.
Equipment: Standard Lightsaber + Walking Cane.
Opposition: Kybo Ren .

"'fraid we cain't do that, old man.
We've come to relieve you of them!".
​

Jido Myyse held his cane in his left hand, leaning some of his weight upon it as those assailing the Archive entrance soon presented themselves, lightsaber in hand and imposing upon the two Jedi Knights who had been upon either side of the doorway trying to keep the Imperial Troopers from gaining entry. Kybo Ren had struck out at them both yet continued to pass, leaving the younger Jedi to contend with his subordinates.

It would appear that the Jedi Master was his priority, and rightfully so.

Raising his right arm, Jido looked not at his Lightsaber but instead at his greatest ally, the Force. Explosive and disruptor rounds met with an impenetrable wall unseen to the eye but felt to all Force Users within the vicinity of the Archives as the Sage erected a telekinetic barrier and held it in place as a temporary shield, his right hand outstretched, palm open and eyes closed as he focused not on what he saw, but what he could sense before him.

Without warning, the barrier guarding the Jedi Master and the shelves of precious data was sent hurling back towards the Knight of Ren, a powerful ripple in the Force that would warn those nearby of the Sage's response to the presence of the Imperial intruders.

"You will find no reward for your disruption here", Jido replied, speaking only when he could be sure his words would be heeded. Releasing his walking cane, his left hand moved to his waist and unlatched the lightsaber hanging from his utility belt; "Meager weapons, Blasters. Messy and prone to accident. If it is a confrontation you seek here, please show me your control of the Force and allow me to enlighten you" Jido encouraged his assailant to discard his firearms in exchange for the true nature of combat, which was known to both of their Orders.

"When all is said and done, I shall allow you to turn away; However, I cannot speak for the others," he concluded, suggesting that the life of Kybo Ren was not one the Sage would seek to take but that his fellow Jedi would likely attempt to arrest the man were he to show the wisdom in leaving this place.

 

[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: BEAT SWITCH

​

CORUSCANT, CORE WORLDS

I can smell blood and fear up in the air. A sweet, iron-y scent of a relatively normal human diet, undoubtedly Efret’s, from the bond the Dagger has carved between us, and a horrifically beautiful scent of fear just from one of the pair, most likely from Astri. Interesting. This could mean that Efret is not afraid, or that her fear is mixed with more exquisite emotions. It’s impossible to track their exact location, but I have all the time of the day.

Then a door of another exit opens loudly, a quick eye-tracking show that no movement are made. Oh sweet, summer child. One might succeed in deceiving the eyes, but The Nephilim hunt with all his senses on alert. Even if the pair are cloaked invisible, the scent of blood and fear are still dormant in the laboratory.

But the chase will lose its charm with this waiting game going on for too long.

Rushing towards the open door, I make a quick right and jumped up the ceiling, almost becoming one with the building. I tapped into the Dark Side of the Force to play with my open wound, using it to disrupt my blood flows, possibly even affecting Efret’s if our bond is already on a level I thought it was.

My senses are locked on the pair, waiting for a movement to react to, waiting for the chase to continue once more. If the pair decide to come out of their hiding, I would let some time before continuing the chase. Let’s see if the Jedi Master has learnt from our previous encounter.

 

[Ibaris Varanin]

THE SECOND PHASE
New Jedi Temple - Roof
Temple District
Coruscant

Kaleleon • Mahsa // Drifter (Later, bby~)

Bloodtoll​

Though the weather sharply turned and began to bucket rain down on her at the outset of her work, Consecrai was unperturbed. There was nothing that the forces of the Light could do to stop her, and there were no environmental conditions that she had ever let get in the way of her motives and goals. She was resourceful, deeply knowledgeable. Stubborn.

SHE. WAS. WILLFUL.

Just as the door went flying, she knew that she could not continue this work and deal with whatever had made the foolish decision to get in her way without putting both herself and her work at great risk. Swallowing the bloom of frustration and the screaming of her pride, Consecrai grasped what lay far below the temple in the Sith Shrine, and drew it forth, letting that well of darkness take over to sustain the corruption. But she was to remain connected to it, invisibly tethered... she needed the omniscience that this far-reaching field endowed her with. Of the growth of protection that several Jedi enveloped themselves with, the adversarial meditation of the Light, she cared little. Their efforts were futile. She could see and feel her Elites, feel the movements of many others within the grand edifice of the temple, including yet another approaching from the stairs.. and buried almost unnoticeable in the bounds of her field, something that was a whisper of familiarity too weak to parse.

A distraction she summarily dismissed. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Of all her Elites, one drew her attention in particular. The crazed former Jedi, Kaleb Sunwalker , that she had set toward the dark path, he whose journey into the depths of darkness she observed in curiosity, amusement, and interest… how far he had come. Consecrai couldn't let those who cornered him to put him down like an animal, not when she wasn't the only one invested in his development; the Emperor himself had an eye on the young man. She knew what she must do to aid him.

When her soldiers went to confront the interloper, she readied to seal her work in place, and increase the intensity of it with the addition of one more special gift. Consecrai dug deep, collecting the most harrowing, excruciating pains that she had been subjected to in her long descent into the Dark Side, and her persisting quest for power.

And then… The Dark Lady withdrew a ceremonial bone knife from her belt and pulled its razor sharp, alchemised edge across her palm, with only the feather-light touch it would need to draw blood, and the red stuff rose up from the fresh wound. One burnt yellow-orange glance skirted sidelong through her drenched, ashen locks to ensure her men still kept the Lightsider occupied, then the bloodied hand was pressed to the gritty surface of the roof and with pointed focus, she spoke the words...

…thereby setting the seal with an invocation of the darkest power…

…and narrowing the ways in which her work could be removed to a scant few methods outside of her own doing. This was a blood mark that couldn't just be washed off, a deeply perverse stain on such a nigh-holy place. The field pulsed when this powerful magic took effect, sending out an intense wave that would challenge even the most masterful resistances and meditations. Delivering her gift of pain in a multitude of ways.

Then, in the most telling display of the nigh-fathomless power that seemed to be at her beck and call, Consecrai stood, wiped and sheathed the knife, and stepped away from the site of that ritual; the field of corruption remained.

Her dark focus turned to the paladin as the storm picked up in intensity, as he slew one soldier and laid into the next, and that sword? A curious sight if ever she saw one... my, he was far from home, wasn't he? Consecrai cast her gaze skyward, feeling as much as seeing the power in that force of nature, regardless of its cause. With a small provision of her own power, she took advantage of the weather and drew down a bolt of lightning squarely on the heavily armoured man - to attack, to see what would happen, to steal his attention? - well aware of the additional risk to anyone in close proximity to him... including anyone that might ascend the stairs a shade too quickly, and her own men, likely to be fried by tendrils arcing off of the main bolt. An acceptable sacrifice.

A useful one.

WIDE AREA OF EFFECT: JEDI TEMPLE AND TEMPLE DISTRICT
SECOND PHASE OF THE DARKSIDE FIELD OF CORRUPTION IS NOW ACTIVE

See here for the continuing effects from Phase 1.

The pain-related effects of this phase are exclusive to the Force Sensitives and Force Attuned Characters at this wild party!

The pain being employed won't leave a physical mark, but is both emotional and physical. Most of you will only feel the physical effects unless your character is an empath or empathic.

To increase its effectiveness, this pain hardly differentiates between allies and adversaries.

I'm not sorry.

-------------

When the wave passes through, you will experience one or more of the following…

Spoiler: Effects

Empaths and empathic characters:
This is gonna hurt in a thoroughly excruciating manner, like nothing you've ever experienced before. You might relive your most painful and/or traumatic memory. You may be sobbing uncontrollably. It may very well bring you to your knees. You may feel like you want to die.

TLDR? This'll fuckin' hurt real bad.

Enjoy the character dev.

Characters that can use pain as a source of power:
What it says on the tin. Let this pain drive you and empower you - see below under ‘Everyone Else’ for what pain you could receive. It should go without saying, but Dark Side characters are far more likely to do such a thing.

Or maybe you're just a masochist? Who knows.

Characters employing resistance to the corruption field, benefitting from someone else's battle meditation (light and dark, excluding the benefits of the corruption field itself), or employing ysalamiri:
Your protection or benefits will momentarily lapse when the wave interacts with it, and if Force Sensitive, you will feel a sharp jab, akin to a bee-sting during that momentary lapse.

Arla, I expect at least a what-the-fuck from you when that ysalamiri bubble hiccups.

Everyone else:
At the low end, this pain is going to feel like a papercut (or something else equally unpleasant/irritating!). You know what that feels like, I know you do.

At the high end, you might feel like like you're on fire, (or something else that's rather ugly). I hope you don't actually know what this feels like, but I'm sure you can imagine it… or there's always Google.

Anywhere in between, I implore you to be creative.

-cackles evilly-

As always, remember to have fun!

And tag me if you feel so inclined.

I wanna see what y'all do with this shit.

Spoiler: Tags

I tried to only tag people once since I know damn well some people are fielding more than one Force Sensitive character in this chapter, myself included. I tried to only only tag you if are fielding Force Sensitive/Force Attuned characters, or if the corruption field update otherwise affects you, to get your attention. If neither is the case for you, or I somehow tagged you on more than one character, then I apologise for the tag!

And you bet your ass I alphabetised all these damn tags!

Adeline Noctua | Allyson Locke | Amani Serys | Aris Noble | Arla Rodarch | Astri Elyse
Balun Dashiell | Briana Sal-Soren
Cesare Demici | Cordelia Dimitte | Corazona von Ascania
Darth Apophion | Darth Centax | Darth Ptolemis
Efret Farr | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Elias Edo
Gatz Derrevar
Isar
Jenn Kryze | Jido Myyse | Jogon | Jonyna Si
Katherine Holt | Khronas | Kybo Ren
Malva'ikh Dralidok
Selena Halcyon | Simon Meinrad | Starlin Rand
Raphael Gallustrade | Raz Azule | Romi Jade | Ryana mina
Silas Westgard | Sinestra | Sorren Moonstrider | Stennis Fel
Thirdas Heavenshield
Valery Noble | Valin Zenth | Vorik | Vulpesen
Zhea Nox

 

[Katherine Holt]

Objective: Protect the Temple
Gear: Armour, Lightsaber, Besker Spear
Tags: Ellayina L'lerim

There was a conscious part of Katherine that realised that her first action into this fight was to go for a lethal blow. Albeit, her opponent had instigated the fight by trying to stun her from behind. But the reality was it was just how the Padawan was trained.

Resolving matters peacefully was the priority, but her training had come at a time when the Alliance were in conflict with the Mandalorian Enclave. And they were a group you couldn’t afford to give any quarter to. Give them an inch, and they’ll exploit it for a mile. Katherine sported a few scars from her encounters with the Mandalorians. Would’ve come out of her first encounter much worse if her opponent at the time hadn’t had her moral compass spinning.

The Padawan dodged Ella’s first shot, opting to turn at a ninety degree angle to avoid it. Her follow up however, was going to be more difficult. Whereas a blaster bolt could be deflected, a stun shot could only be dispersed by a lightsaber. And Katherine did just that, but the act slowed down her momentum. That, combined with her opponent’s reflexes, resulted in her blade only catching the edge of Ella’s armour.

Katherine immediately pulled back with her wings, landing to the ground with a small skid. She pivoted on her feet to face her opponent, swinging her lightsaber to deflect the first blast. Only to have the second slip through her defence and hit her left shoulder. Katherine had failed to anticipate the switch from stun to live fire. The shot had left a dent on her pauldron, charring the area around it black. And while it hadn’t cracked the armour, Katherine could feel a sharp, burning pain shoot down the length of her arm.

The Padawan let out a small growl, using one arm to deflect the incoming pistol fire. While drawing on the Force into her other hand, waiting until it hit a crescendo before unleashing it outwards into a Push towards Ellayina.

“Or, how about you surrender? I’m sure the SIA would love to have you occupying one of their cells.”

Thinking on it though, it did glean some information on just what her opponent’s objective was. If it was to just sneak in and steal something, information perhaps, they could’ve just remained in stealth and be on their merry way. But no, her enemy had opted to initiate an attack, to stun her even.

She’s here to capture someone.

Katherine wasn’t about to let that happen.

 

[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

Without warning, the barrier guarding the Jedi Master and the shelves of precious data was sent hurling back towards the Knight of Ren, a powerful ripple in the Force that would warn those nearby of the Sage's response to the presence of the Imperial intruders.

Gah! The Knight dove sideways as the barrier absorbed the blasts, diving between the stacks of holoslates and books just as the ripple blasted outwards, smashing across the far wall. Some of the debris caught him in the leg, sending stinging pain up his leg- a pain he relished and drank deeply from.

"Hey watch it! Ye're risking my loot!" He shouted, feeling the gusts of wind bounce about the place.

The pirate moved surprisingly stealthily between the data stacks, rolling across the floor, hidden by the stacks. He was trying to flank the Master.

"You will find no reward for your disruption here", Jido replied, speaking only when he could be sure his words would be heeded. Releasing his walking cane, his left hand moved to his waist and unlatched the lightsaber hanging from his utility belt; "Meager weapons, Blasters. Messy and prone to accident. If it is a confrontation you seek here, please show me your control of the Force and allow me to enlighten you" Jido encouraged his assailant to discard his firearms in exchange for the true nature of combat, which was known to both of their Orders.

"I'll show you messy!" Kybo leapt out from between two stacks of books blasting with his Inferos Disruptor Shotgun. He might be impulsive, but baiting away his ranged advantage? Any carp that fell for that deserved to lose his head.

At this close of a range, whether the Master chose to block it with a barrier or let it past, the Shotgun's design would lead the disruptor bolts into exploding into prismatic bursts- either the old alien would get nicked as the bolts shot past or- and here Kybo was making a gamble- his barrier would cause the disruptor bolts to explode away from him, and his precious books and holoslates in the nearby stacks would be vapourised

"When all is said and done, I shall allow you to turn away; However, I cannot speak for the others," he concluded, suggesting that the life of Kybo Ren was not one the Sage would seek to take but that his fellow Jedi would likely attempt to arrest the man were he to show the wisdom in leaving this place.

Kybo ducked back into cover behind the other stacks, before waiting to see his bolts burst. Twisting the Force, the Knight of Ren projected his voice away from him-

"Well now ye've gone an' made it a non-choice, O Master! Better to stay and fight!"

Come on, come on, when are the scallywags going to break past the two Jedi? It's just two fu-

And then… The Dark Lady withdrew a ceremonial bone knife from her belt and pulled its razor sharp, alchemised edge across her palm, with only the feather-light touch it would need to draw blood, and the red stuff rose up from the fresh wound. One burnt yellow-orange glance skirted sidelong through her drenched, ashen locks to ensure her men still kept the Lightsider occupied, then the bloodied hand was pressed to the gritty surface of the roof and with pointed focus, she spoke the words...

…thereby setting the seal with an invocation of the darkest power…

…and narrowing the ways in which her work could be removed to a scant few methods outside of her own doing. This was a blood mark that couldn't just be washed off, a deeply perverse stain on such a nigh-holy place. The field pulsed when this powerful magic took effect, sending out an intense wave that would challenge even the most masterful resistances and meditations. Delivering her gift of pain in a multitude of ways.

Then, in the most telling display of the nigh-fathomless power that seemed to be at her beck and call, Consecrai stood, wiped and sheathed the knife, and stepped away from the site of that ritual; the field of corruption remained.

AAAA

AAAA​

AAAA​

GAHHH


Pain shot through him- and in his mind's eye, he saw it- a wave of that dark feeling he'd kept at bay

of fear

ennui​

fear of being beaten

the ennui of ending in the void, without memory​

fear that he was an impostor

knowing nothing he did meant anything, ever, to anyone, anytime​

of being a fucking joke
​

The wave crashed into his mind- and the warrior fell, head empty and full at once. He had never felt like this, not since his induction into the Knights of Ren, since his first crash, since his first failure, deep in the green island hell. Kybo was goddamned invincible, a towering mountain of perverse jolly and calculated fury. Kybo felt small.

He felt like little Long-Cha, all over again.​

He felt like he was going to burst, yet collapse. Cradling his head, falling into one of the holoslate stacks, his mass smashing through as he fell.

The sensation was suddenly over- as quick as it had come. Dimly, he was aware of the two Jedi screaming, and the sounds of his corsairs gunning them down- though they too were shouting, although in mere annoyance, like a headache.

Kybo's vision was red- red in bloodlust and anger and fear and

and life.​

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!" Kybo roared, lightsaber ignited in hand. He crashed through the tables, the barricades, the datastacks, back to the Master. He was blind with fury, charging and slicing through everything in his way, loot or otherwise.

The Jedi wanted to meet him in melee combat?

So be it.

 

[Cordelia Dimitte]

TAG: Ibaris Varanin

Cordelia was resting beside Corban when a wave swept over her and she felt a great ache inside, she dropped on her side and began to sieze up, as her mind was flood of images of Hooded Figures with whips flicking them at her. She saw a cell where chains coiled arouhd her, and the voice of her Father,
"Such a disappointment.. not even the whips illicit anger? She is weaker than I thought.. I shall have to put my hopes in her brother.."

Cordelia writhed on the floor as the pain of the past pierced her inside, and she began to swoon, Corban could not help her for his own mind was filled with the torment of memory,
"You are not worthy of knighthood, The Council has spoken.. you are too rash, too passionate.. a Jedi must be serene, and at peace.."
These words had become a knife in his heart as he cried out and said,
"I am worthy! I am worthy!"

The two were in the wake of this storm of dark power that had weaponized their memories, turning them as microscopic teeth that mawed at their minds…

 

[Amani Serys]

Eloise Dinn - Sorren Moonstrider - Darth Vinaze​

The knight Amani first targeted was not caught unaware. He moved to meet her attack, locking their matching blades in a bind. Amani grit her teeth, and spent a few crucial moments in a contest of strength, maneuvering and shifting weight until one or the other managed to rebuff. As they did, the Jedi Master took note of her surroundings. The other enemies still in the room, her padawan, and the source that they had followed here. A man entranced in battle meditation, radiating darkness that made her feel sick in the pit of her stomach. He was the target.

But seeing her apprentice forcibly engaged with a dual-wielding darksider, Amani willfully broke from the clash, spinning her weapon and using its blunt haft to push away without dropping defense. She then quickly reengaged on her own terms, using the pike's superior reach to poke and prod at the older knight, and hopefully catch him off guard enough to hit a maiming or killing impact. She prayed Eloise was capable of holding off her opponent alone, until Amani could rejoin.

 

[Spindle]

Frustration gnawed at the Nagai's innards like a gnat to spoiled fruit. It was far from her first time being late to a party, just as it'd be far from her last, but the level of her tardiness in this instance was especially laughable. It wasn't entirely her fault, some poor fool thought they could take on the Jedi temple with holes in both sleeves and pouches galore. That simply would not do. Of course, a patch job was a simple matter, but why stop there when enhancing the item was just a few extra steps?

The dark-haired specter let loose a short huff as she steadied herself, long limbs having been scrambling to catch up with all she'd missed for some time. When at last she did come to a stop, the reprieve was short-lived. The heat that had originated in her ankles from the strain of her wayward gait didn't wane when no longer in use. Rather, the heat crept upward, spiking in irregular intervals. Her fingers twitched with each spike, an involuntary spasm running down her forearms. It was a confusing sensation just as it was painful. Spindle was attuned with the Force well enough to recognize it was of no natural cause.

Her mounting frustrations grew as she continued onward, the spiking heat never waning. The Force help whoever was the cause of the lingering pain, should Spindle ever come across them. Her hands were integral to her work. For them to be left at a disadvantage was a slap in the face, one she fully intended to return tenfold.

But there were other, more pressing matters at hand. The long shadow wasn't such a fool as to abandon her goals entirely when inconvenience bared its enflamed head. There was a temple to explore, secrets to unveil, Jedi to, well, deal with.

Aris Noble​

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

<Be safe, Aris.>

Valery knew Kahlil would be fine, but she was worried about Aris Noble . Her son had been through battles before, some worse than others, but never an invasion of this magnitude. She wasn't at all happy that he was here for that very reason, but there was nothing she could do right now. She had to swallow that motherly worry and trust in him to make it through. Trust him that he'd make it back home, and back into her arms.

She knew he could do it. He had to.

With one final message sent to the outside world, Valery's mind shifted into a deeper focus. She was aware of the people in her surroundings, but she prioritized potential threats. From there, she pushed her way through the halls of the Temple and felt that familiar darkness getting closer. It had felt her, too. It was coming, and it wasn't coming alone. Familiar Jedi were moving all around her, securing hallways and engaging enemies that had broken through the Temple's defenses.

But her path wasn't to join them.

Up ahead, Valery finally spotted the two figures — Detritus Ren and Olorion Fossk . One felt powerful and awfully familiar, the other felt strong, but not as refined. A Sith Lord and his apprentice, perhaps? Valery's gaze narrowed as she considered the option, but deep down, she already knew that to be false. She now understood who she was looking at. It wasn't the Maw's Wrath, Kyrel ren, but someone with a connection to him that she hadn't expected to encounter.

"Your onslaught ends here, I'm afraid," Valery began as she made her approach with her blade ignited by her side. "By my hand, the same way your father's reign of terror ended."

Detritus Ren Olorion Fossk ​

 

[Eloise Dinn]

In the training dojo at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the other Padawans had complained about Eloise. “She fights like a Sith,” they said. "Ruthless and vicious. It's not fair."

In the training dojo at the Sky Temple on Zaathru, her mother had admonished her every time she fell. “What are you, a Jedi?” she mocked. “Get up and fight until your opponent is dead, or you are.”

The Sith running toward her now was no mere acolyte. This guy was a big shot, some dark lord's jumped-up apprentice no doubt. She sidestepped his opening move, her whole body veering to the right to dodge him entirely. While his blade was slashing through empty air, she slammed her elbow toward his left temple, hoping to disorient him. Whether it connected with his head or not, she was already following it up with a sweep of her lightsaber, cutting down from right to left, shoulder to hip.

"Hey shorty!" she greeted him with a snarling grin. "Is that your master meditating over there, little slave?"

Amani Serys Sorren Moonstrider​

 

[Aris Noble]

Everything felt.. Wrong, all at once. Aris couldn't feel the Force, not in a way that any Jedi should, but he felt something. Pain? Was this what pain actually felt like? It was a mild uncomfortableness for him, given what he was. He tightened his grip on Seszil, redoubling his run to make it outside. Except he didn't get another step. A sudden weight filled his grasp as Seszil stopped hovering himself to assist Aris, leaving the boy alone to carry all of the sword's excessive mass.

That wasn't what stopped him, though. It was the sword itself. Seszil was screaming. Inhuman, pained screams filled the hallway as Aris could only stare at his friend in confusion and terror. Why was he screaming? What happened? He tried to ask, but Seszil's screaming was just too much, too loud. The ritual had trapped him in the moments of his creation. Of when the shard turned sword had been melted down and infused into a Sith blade.

Seszil fell silent shortly after, unconcious. Lifeless, more or less. Aris stared for a moment longer before he let out a sigh and hugged the blade to his chest. Whatever had happened, he'd have to help later. Right now, Aris couldn't. And there were Sith here. He sheathed the blade on his back, hooking it to ensure Seszil didn't accidentally slip out as he instead took up his lightsaber and ignited it.

Blue lit his face up as he stared at it. For a moment, he felt something familiar.

<Be safe, Aris.>

Mom. He smiled, just a little. This blade had been hers, did she know he'd activated it? Or was it just by chance? It didn't matter, right now he was just happy to hear her support. He rushed back ahead, sprinting through the halls at his unnatural even for a Jedi speed. He came to a halt, though, as he saw movement. A woman? Almost looked like a corpse, if he was being honest. He warily lifted his saber, not to point at them but just, defensive. Just in case.

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

Spindle

 

[Sorren Moonstrider]

Amani Serys | Eloise Dinn​

The knight engaged with Master Serys didn't stand a chance, in truth. With hardly a moment to adopt a good stance, especially since the formation fighting the Imperial knights had been drilled in so carefully had gone out the window with the violent entrance of the Jedi, the push from Amani's haft gave her the moment of opportunity she need to poke through the man's armour, searing his insides. With one desperate move, he brough his own saber down onto the haft of the pike, not knowing whether he could in fact slice it in two or if he was merely looking for something in the moment of extreme pain he was experiencing.

I heard his cry, mixed between the feeling that we were being hard pressed, but also that the weakness I'd sensed in him was vindicated. In time, when Coruscant was ours, we would have a greater crop to draw Inquisitors and Assassins from, and his death would be forgotten, a footnote to my own glory in helping to take Coruscant.

I just barely backed off from the tall girl's elbow connecting with my face, bobbing just fast enough to block her strike, but needing to use both my blades so I could get my footing without being pushed.

"Hey shorty!" she greeted him with a snarling grin. "Is that your master meditating over there, little slave?"

"You Jedi..." I grunted, "just can't help but talk..."

With the strength of both my blades, I pushed back and broke our brief blade lock.

"can you?" I leaped backwards, assisted by the Force. Though it was never my strong suit, my recent near death on Jedha at the hands of a Jedi acrobat had led me to practice more. I had just achieved a tolerable enough victory, survival, as it were, on Jedha to stave off my master's ire and I would not allow myself to nearly fail again.

With a bit more room, and only a moment to decide my plan of action, I drew up my left blade in defense and tossed the right blade out, feeling it still through the Force, guiding it spinning towards the master...

 

[Isar]

Location: Coruscant, Jedi Temple - West Wing
Objective: To Denounce the Evils of Truth and Love

Allies: Jogon
Enemies: Jenn Kryze | Corazona von Ascania

The wall of her mind slammed shut on his questing tendrils of thought and he hissed between clenched teeth, but hung on to the connection, tugging at shreds of memories.

Then something hard struck him in the back and sent him stumbling forward and then to one knee. He grimaced as pain flared in his back. If he hadn't been wearing the armor... well, he might be making his way around in a hoverchair.

Hunched on one knee, he held his sabers before him defensively. He delved deep and placed himself amid the center of the aura flowing over the temple. He drew on it, taking more and more into himself until he brimmed with the energy.

"No such thing, love," he grunted through the pain.

All around him, stormtroopers and mandalorians clashed amid a flurry of brilliant blaster bolts, deafening explosions, flailing limbs, and gashing vibrodaggers.

Isar closed his eyes and breathed all that energy out. The Dark Side rolled forward from him at a gesture, a flick of the finger, a drowning tidal wave that immersed both he and the Jedi in its depths. She'd encountered the Dark Side before, it came with the job description. But something in the way the current dragged them into an undertow felt more real than the slaughter playing out around them.

The hallway of the west wing warped and shimmered. The air itself hummed. The figures of the embattled troopers melted away as if a mirage. In their place, Isar and Corazona stood alone in a deep and unending darkness. He turned to her, a wan smile on his lips, then he faded into the darkness as if a spectre.

Suddenly, light.

It spilled forth from a crackling fire, surreal in the emptiness, hungry and desperate tongues lapping out of the hearth. A hearth with no home, alone in the darkness.

Then before Corazona's eyes, a man emerged into the light. Tanned and tattooed features finely wrought. Dark, tousled hair above eyes of cutting blue. Makko Vyres. He wore that tender, tentative expression. The one of someone who knew her hurts and didn't want to press on the bruises.

She moved, or a ghost of her moved, or an echo of a thought. It felt as though she moved, drawn toward him as if by gravity.​

Cora blinked hot tears into the fabric of Makko's shirt as her face pressed into his shoulder. She took in a deep, shuttering breath, and realized that aside from the quiet tears, she didn't feel the urge to break down and sob in his arms.

And she never would again.

Somewhere in the depths of this mad illusion, its designer grimaced, disgusted at his own creation. He should hate destroying lives like this, hate what it did to people. He knew that somewhere deep within his soul.

Too bad it came so easy.

The walk down memory lane continued. He no longer controlled its exact shape, merely its nature. It sickened him, but he couldn't tear his focus away as the spectral dance continued.

Cora slipped both hands up either side of Makko's face, cradling him softly. She smiled awkwardly, eyes glassy and cheeks red and ruddy from crying.

"After everything I put you through, and you're still so kind to me. I don't deserve you, Makko."

Not-Makko's expression twisted into a cruel sneer.

"No," he said, "You don't. You never did."

Beside the hearth, an object...​

She was staring down the red-hot end of a fire poker, freshly glowing from where it had stoked the coals.

Not-Makko picked up the poker and advanced on her. "You know what you did. To me... To the others... Why you were knighted... You were right. You should be punished. Remember this... as a moment when I tried. Tried to be kind." ​

Weight on top of her, his breath against her ear as he held the hot iron poker to her skin, indifferent to her cries of pain.

Memories of anguish melded with the vision of Not-Makko before her in this palace of the mind. Palace? Just a gilded prison.

But she already knew that.

 

[Kaleb Sunwalker]

Location: Jedi Temple, Jedi Archives
Allies: DE, Dark Side Elite
Enemies: GA, Simon Meinrad Zhea Nox





Kaleb had genuinely hoped to turn others like Nox away from the limiting ideals of the New Jedi Order. He had hoped that further bloodshed could be avoided, for he wished to claim what was promised to him through hushed whispers of the Codex and the lullaby in his head. He stood there hesitant, a gloved hand slowly drifting to the metallic hilt of his lightsaber. Ready to draw upon his blade in a moments notice. The man with her was a face he didn't recognize. Unlike Nox he hadn't seen this new face, what Kaleb could aptly call a relic of the past, for he recognized the man's stance. He was an Imperial Knight, or used to be one. Kaleb only knew due to the similarity shown within a few of the Elite's own members.

He could feel various presences across the Archives. From Kybo Ren and his confrontation with Jido Myyse , as well as Elias Edo and his attempts to take Archive data. Many conflicts and many presences, but his focus lingered on the pair before him. His fists clenched, his teeth gritting against each other, all options was leading to conflict. It was inevitable if Kaleb were to take everything the Archives had to offer. The mad dark jedi remained quiet for the moment. Watching as the grizzled man stepped forth, urging Nox to destroy the Archives. Kaleb's eyes went wide. He looked as if he was shaken to the very core. All sense of calm quickly deteriorated as Kaleb looked to them both. "Y-You dare! You dare deprive Kaleb of the knowledge! N-No! No! F-False Jedi! False Jedi afraid of the knowledge, afraid of the power!!" Kaleb went raving once again, his eyes bulging, his mouth looked as if he was foaming mad. The possibility of the Archives destruction had triggered him.

Slowly did Kaleb start to move forward, ready as if to pounce on the man and beat him savagely. "You won't deny me! No! No! NO!!!!!" Kaleb would scream out, the scream powered by the Force that it caused several of the holobook cases to shake. "Y-Yes! Yes Master! I know! I KNOW!!!" He screamed again, his hands suddenly reach for his head, what felt like a splitting headache at first was like a blaster bolt going through his head. His muscles started to spasm, his jaw clenched as he started to move around, the howling madman was now screaming. Pain overwhelmed him. "N-no! I see-see! See pain is truth... P-PAIN IS TRUTH!!!" He yelled again, the violent spasms stopped, his hands moving away from his head, no longer the pain's marionette, but his friend to guide him through this battle.

Kaleb was unaware of the power through pain brought by Ibaris Varanin when he needed it most. His eyes were blazing yellow, his gaze looked to the man. "I-I WILL NOT BE DENIED!!" Came the feral screams of Kaleb, as he allowed the pain to channel through him. This pain unlocked a wellspring of dark side energy, for rather than fight it would he be swallowed by it. Dark Side energies manifested within him. Kaleb found energy coming towards him, all gathering to him, the pain built to a greater intensity, his bones wanted to break, his nerves on fire.

All of the dark energy building towards a crescendo. He gave the man a horrid glare of the inferno behind his eyes, all the pain, all the rage, all the lies ready to be released. With one scream did Kaleb let out all that dark energy in the form of a Force Wave. Anyone within the range of the dark shockwave would have been sent flying, his intent was to send this man away, along with unfortunately anyone else within the Archives. He hoped the shockwave would carve a path to prevent Nox from depriving what Kaleb had sought after. Soon... It would all be his.​

 

[Drifter]

​

​

Information

Reasonable list of personal items based on occupation, training, purchase, and previous acquisition. This includes one piloting droid and a scouting/personal assistant droid.

​

Location: New Jedi Temple, outskirts on top of a nearby rooftop, Coruscant​

Objective: Rev up this b!tch. Soon Ibby!​

---

Drifter's little overhand didn't do chit for keeping the blasted rain out. Nope. Instead, the Hunter had to suffer not only being aggravated over the ongoing situation of his involvement under protest, but also the bloody blasted rampaging of a fething storm around the temple.

Had he any time or thoughts to spare, he'd have given a massive feth you to whatever force suddenly decided to bring on a maelstrom. Honestly, he didn't care who or what, but feth was wet leather blasted aggrevating to be in. He knew well that the chaffing game would be strong later on.

As it was, he was too busy focusing the entirety of his attention on the sword in his hands. Sweat had already begun to form over his brow under the polarized helm, trickling silvery trails down his temple and into his hair. Great. Just fucking great.

They say anger was of the Darkside. Sure, it could be if one used it to channel and shortcut mastery of the Force in a way that could jumpstart the strength and power therein. Yet there was righteous anger. Wrath at injustice could be channeled into a finely chiseled edge. Feel all the anger and wrath, or in Drifter's case, aggravated annoyance into a task, which can prompt hyperfocus. Just because you felt anger doesn't make you a Darksider. It is how you act on it that does - or so his father had told him once.

Of course, Drifter could only assume that Aatrox had it out for him then because that corruption field he'd felt earlier sent out a subsequent pulse of pain that added another layer to the dark miasma it radiated.

Under Drifter's helm, his jaw twitched, teeth ground, and his lips pursed.

Playing it this way, eh? Should have known.

Pain laced through the corruption, a sharp, agonizing layer piercing his body like needles of ice. It was as if every nerve ending was being electrified with searing heat, sending jolts of annoying prickly pin needles through his limbs. His muscles contracted involuntarily, spasming under the relentless assault.

Oh, you e'chu'ta...

It was okay, though. Like every emotion, pain could be used. Oh, not to fuel the surge of the whirlwind of the Force he was channeling in his blood majick imbuement, but as a focusing lens. Pain was good. The pain told the body where the festering sickness lay, to clue in its location so one could become the scalpel to cut the gangrene out.

It gave information. Details. Data. Methods to be able to glean just how this corruption field worked. Oh, he'd need to get a closer look, but not yet... soon. Soon.

First, he'd have to finish what he was cooking, his outstretched hand beginning to glow a bright, fiery blue. A voice would lick at his ears, a chuckle, a pleased upward curl of a grin.

A hunger coiled deep, the Darkside would bloom. Couldn't miss the beacon it made. As experience had grown, so had power in alchemy, majick, and imbuement. The Hunter had been keen to ensure so.

Yeah, yeah, Drifter replied in his mind, face contorting as he continued his intense concentration, feeling the energy start to drain and weather his body with every minute that passed.

Enough with your peanut gallery. Focus on the matter at hand!

---

Allies

Hostiles

Unknown

Kaleleon | Mahsa

Soon???

Ibaris Varanin

​