OBJECTIVE: Defend Cularin
SUB-OBJECTIVE: PUNCH DA SCHUTTA, Do Not Fall For Womanly Wiles MAKE AGGRESSIVE EDITS BECAUSE. EDIT: MORE EDITS
ALLIES: Republic: [member="Corvus Raaf"], [member="Kana Truden"], [member="Venris Helion"], [member="Vassara Raxis"]
ENEMIES: One Sith: [member="Vrag"] (I Am Going to Punch You And You Will Not Get In These Metal Pants If I let you get in these metal pants will you forgive me?)
When approaching a Zorren, be aware of the order in which things will happen: You will head towards them. They will smell you. You'll get closer. Then they'll hear you. At some point you will see them or they will see you. But they will always know you are there before you know they are. Unless you to possess advanced canine-esque senses. Or have fancy technology that exceeds the skill of even the best of organics. Unfortunately for our 'young' (40 was young for one of her kind) lass... it appeared her assailant was quite fond of unnecessary robotics, machines, and electronic devices. How else would they have spotted her so quickly?... Ah, the force, perhaps. Maybe it was simply a horrid mix of everything. How terrible that would be... Nyx quietly radioed one last notification as the footsteps came closer and closer, mixed with the stench of heavy metals.
"The Sith have come. Cularin is falling." Hopefully the other Jedi, such as Corvus and Truden, would get the message. Otherwise... She tried not to think about what might happen to her not-family.
Once upon a time she had timed the arrival of her doctor, Stone, perfectly. Just as the door had slid open she had finished her change of accent- and speech- leaving it at a false note so that only Master Raaf knew of (some of) her secrets. Being a sniper for 20+ years generally aided in your perception of the passing of seconds as well. You learned to time yourself excellently. All you needed was a splinter of information. Steps per second? Estimated distance? Estimate of stride length?... Ah, this sounds complicated, yes? One doesn't need to make the actual calculations after a while. There are skills you get close to perfecting. More importantly... hunters have intuition. Zorrens are hunters. Beasts, depending on who you ask. Drapeam Nyx was a monster of a woman, unfit for the title of 'Jedi', but she held the name anyway.
Her name by itself usually inspired either fear or disgust when spoken to those with a decent knowledge of Republic and Imperial history. Most of the Nyxai (her family) had held lofty positions within the Empire. Up until the height of the Gulag Plague they were renowned as powerful warriors, genius diplomats, and skilled force users. Most knew of her grandfather, Drosk Ssolas Nyx, who had once been a mighty general. He lead quite a few successful campaigns against multiple governments. By the time he had died, the man had earned dozens of titles, and 'ruled' seventeen planets. Each world passed on to one of his relatives upon his death. Or they would have, if he hadn't died to disease. After his fall... it seemed like no one could return the clan to it's former glory. Tywin, Drapeam's father, had done his 'best'. In the end he had only managed to ruin everything, cause the demise of half of his remaining siblings, and ensure that his daughter never worked with the Empire again.
The Nyxai had done great things... and they had made horrid failures.
In the last split second she had, the woman leapt to her feet, coming out from behind a piece of rubble. Tense as she was she spun into a dive, rolling past the stone, vaguely aware of flame licking at her armor. Chite! Vague was, in fact, the completely wrong word for this. Even with the force there to calm her nerves she could feel the heat getting to her. Sweat was already falling down her dusty forehead. This was bad. Nyx finished her roll (still facing away from her unknown attacker) and immediately repeated the action, this time moving to the right. Fire seemed to follow her as she found cover behind an old fan unit, along with the continuation of the earlier stone block. The liquid pain splashed around the corner, finding the back of her neck with ease. A deep growl left her throat. Focus! She thought, trying to move past the searing pain. If only her damned armor had come with a helm... At least one of the layers was made of therma gel. That would prevent a good portion of the heat from getting to the rest of her body. After all it was originally used to assist in reentry.
Her thoughts were cut short by a burning sensation.
The flamethrower had moved against both stone, metal, and fan. It heated the surface up rather quickly. Nyx found the back of her hair signed... along with her scalp feeling very, very hot. Oh dear. If I could just... she thought, scowling. Still moving alongside the makeshift wall. Doing so without touching said wall was difficult. There had to be something else she could do... Hm. With a very un-Jedi like spurge of anger she reached out with the force, trying to get a grasp on the woman's general location. Despite trying to be a lightsider... she let the pain fuel her efforts. Old habits die hard. Once she had an idea of where the Sith was she quickly swung her left arm up (praying that her armor would withstand the worst of whatever came next) over the blocky system. Without wasting a moment she returned fire, shooting at the Sith (lady) with her own gun. It wasn't the most effective option. But there were to many people up here. What else could she do? Maybe... ah! Yes! That would work! Still moving along the edge of the roof she lifted her right hand, aiming a (hopefully) hard force push at the armored foe... Maybe that could buy her some time. If not she could always jump off the roof. Right?...
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EQUIPMENT: Sniper rifle, lightsabers, ECHO Bactarma Armor, fighting knife, blaster. {Link in signature}
INJURIES: Bruise forming on right leg, scratch on cheek, burns on back of neck. {Sith Poison in veins; Passive affect}
Edits made due to minor misunderstanding. MORE EDITS MADE DUE TO EVEN MORE MISUNDERSTANDINGS, GOSH DARN IT.
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