Faction Dude, Where's My Space Station

[Corazona von Ascania]

Direct: Ran Serys Tibera Jessen Haliat Kryze
Tags: Zaiya Ceti Mahsa Kahlil Noble Amelia von Sorenn Nulgath Zardai Joseph Torson

Working alongside the mercenary who'd cryobanned her arm to a wall – and who'd stabbed Ran – was unsettling. What was even more unsettling, were the hordes of semi-intelligent undead scattered around the station, clambering to infect them.

Much like with the Sith Lord and Imperial troopers, Cora had to actively set her distrust aside in favor of survival.

As they made their way down the shaft, there was a pause from Ran. Her body shifted a little too close to comfort over the straight drop, and Cora reflexively reached out to steady the Mirialian by her shoulder.

"Ashla guide us…" she murmured in a quiet prayer. The Force rippled softly around them, ebbing into the Jedi warrior beside her, using her touch as a conduit. Cora was no healer, but she could imbue Ran with a new sense of vigor – if for only a short time.

As the group continued onward, Tibera reloaded her weapon. The whine of the gas canister being activated had tiny hairs standing up at the back of Cora's neck.

"Perhaps you can freeze them to the walls, mercenary."

It was meant, in all honesty, to be a helpful suggestion. It came out as bitter sarcasm.

The comm in her ear crackled. Cora paused, bringing two fingers to the unit as if that would help the signal's clarity.

"Lady Corazana, this is Haliat of House Kryze. Are you receiving this signal?"

It was garbled, but an unrecognizable voice cut through the static. It was his name that sparked a pang of hope.

"Haliat of House Kryze, I can hear you." A pause – how much did he know about the situation beyond the fact that they needed rescue? "The majority of the crew of this station have been infected with some sort of sickness beget from a Sith Lord. Exercise extreme caution; do not let them touch your skin."

 

[Haliat Kryze]

​

| Location | Tython station, exterior bay. But not for long.
| Objective | Heroic rescue is a go!
| Focus | Talk on the move

"Haliat of House Kryze, I can hear you." A pause – how much did he know about the situation beyond the fact that they needed rescue? "The majority of the crew of this station have been infected with some sort of sickness beget from a Sith Lord. Exercise extreme caution; do not let them touch your skin."

Contact! The signal was not quite so strong as he would have preferred, of course, and he immediately began work to clean up the transmission. But hopefully, that would improve on its own as the distance and the barriers between them diminished. In the meantime, Corazania von Ascania was alive, and while her voice may be presently robbed of its usual melody, he could hear her. That would do for now. The mission would continue, either until the princess of Ukatis glimpsed the open stars once more or Haliat and all his company lay torn asunder...though Haliat would hardly deny he had his preferences in that regard.​

​

"The situation is acknowledged and understood, your highness," Haliat acknowledged crisply into his comm. "But I have not come alone. I bring all the strength I could muster to deliver you from this place, and we will see it done. We shall show the horde no fear, no mercy, and certainly no flesh."​

​

With that, Haliat turned back to his traat'aliit, and his next words rang out stern and clear through his exterior speaker.​

​

"She lives! Sarissa squad, form up and follow."​

​

Throwing back his cape over one shoulder to leave the whistling bird launcher mounted next to his jetpack clear for deployment when needed, Haliat drew his beskad, and strode for the access hatch into the rest of the station, ready to seek and thin out the peril Corazana had warned him of while Hoplon squad worked with speed and deliberation to turn this bay into a death (Second death) trap for the undead. As he moved, he resumed his transmission for the Jedi.​

​

"Lady Corazana. If you are able, please keep this frequency open. I will use it to find you. What is your present status? Are you in immediate peril?"​

​

​

​

 

[Vesh’ira’nuruodo]

​

FLEET: See Character Bio
TAGS: Amelia von Sorenn | Wedge Draav | Marlon Sularen | Max Sinn

"Someone want to tell me where that X-wing came from?"

"It's a Revenant Squadron craft, Admiral. One of ours. Possibly it trailed us or was pulled here alongside the station."

Annoying. Having a fighter zipping around in space that wasn't one under her direct command could be problematic, though as the Republic's operational leader in the sector, he should answer to her. Provided that the Supreme Commander didn't come around and take command, in which case Shiran would defer to her.

There was no response from the station that she had received. No acknowledgement of her message to the Supreme Commander, either. It was possible something in the station itself was interfering with communications, but it was also highly likely that people were far too busy on the inside to take the time out to respond. She settled for assuming it was the latter since none of her team was reporting any communications interference. At least she could count on the fact the Imperials weren't stupid given the gravity of what they were dealing with.

"He did take out one of the transports full of infected. One of ours is currently firing on the other.... and there it goes. Both are destroyed."

"They'll jettison bodies into space. Have them search and destroy to make sure none of them are left."

No chances. Not with this.

"Contacts! A second Imperial fleet has dropped out of hyperspace at range!"

Another one? Weren't they tied up at Tython? If she'd been in charge of the full fleet, she'd have one of the other Taskforces launch an assault inside of Imperial space because apparently a lot of worlds were going undefended at the moment.

"Hail them."

"Broadcasting."

"Imperial Fleet this is Rear Admiral Shiran of the Galactic Alliance. You will withdraw from this space immediately and allow us and your first response fleet to sort out this situation. Failure to do so will result in defensive measures being taken by us."

She motioned for the line to be cut and then turned her attention to her display of fleet positions. Some things needed to shift.

"Pull Shield back and have them situate in the vicinity of the Silent Fist, keeping themselves between it and that second Imperial fleet. The first seems to have the same intent as us and I want to make sure it stays that way. Also, sent notification of the status of the situation here back to central command so they're aware of the situation and that we may be engaged soon."

She wasn't going to fire first, not yet, but she certainly wasn't about to let a second Imperial fleet just roll up on a station with a bunch of Alliance personnel inside of it, along with a deadly virus. This whole thing was starting to get a bit out of hand, and she didn't like that, so she was going to tighten the hand a bit.

"Tell that lone Revenant Squadron fighter to keep an eye on the escape pods if he's going to be flying around out here."

 

[General Xiang Zhong]

OBJECTIVE III: CONTAINMENT

Vesh’ira’nuruodo | Amelia von Sorenn | Wedge Draav | Max Sinn | Marlon Sularen​

What. The. Kriff.

This proved to be agitating, to say the least. Not only had a second fleet of the Imperial Navy arrived, but to top it off, they were currently attempting to blow up the station as well as attempting to cause an open fight. As much as he loathed the entirety of the accursed Galactic Alliance, they were allies for the moment. And he may have been not fond of their alien-loving democratic ways, but he knew that if the Blackwing Virus got off-station, then there would not be a galaxy to properly liberate in the first place. To this end, as the Imperial General ordered for an open broadcast to both Imperial and Galactic Alliance forces outside the station, he commanded. He may not have held naval rank, but he did know a way to force the situation to work out.

" This is General Xiang Zhong of His Majesty's Empire - stand down at once! Do not provoke open warfare with the Galactic Alliance. Second Imperial fleet, withdraw to Imperial space at once or otherwise keep out of weapons range and power down weapons now! I will not risk losing the station to hastily-taken actions when it can be still secured. Repeat, withdraw to Imperial space at once or otherwise keep out of weapons range and power down weapons now! His Majesty has ordered this station to be secured and for the Blackwing Virus elements to be scourged entirely."

It was likely to earn a reprimand. Likely a demotion, possibly even his life. But he was not going to risk this virus spreading freely into the galaxy - not if he had any opportunity to stop it. Noticing the Galactic Alliance fleet was currently honoring their end of the deal, and recognizing the Chiss (who, while near-human and not as worthy to rule the galaxy as true humans, still had their home annihilated, and thus earned some sympathy), sent another open broadcast to confirm his intentions and... defuse, the situation, at least. There did not need to be a fight - not when his men were still trying to secure the hangars and escape pod regions. Or worse, allow the infected free passage off of this station.

" This is General Xiang Zhong, order all Imperial spacetroopers and zero-gravity stormtroopers to sweep the external space around the station. Ensure anything contaminated with the Blackwing Virus is thoroughly purged from existence. Galactic Alliance fleet, this is General Xiang Zhong of His Majesty's Empire. There is a ceasefire in effect, repeat, there is a ceasefire in effect. We will not allow any contaminated off the ship, be it Imperial or Alliance, but you have my word that if they are unaffected by this plague, they will return to your fleet safely. I will not tolerate a fight with the current situation potentially liable to cause a galactic apocalypse."

The Imperial General merely stroked the facial mask of his helmet, before turning and noting to his subordinates to power down weaponry as a show of good faith. If nothing else, he could say he at least tried to de-escalate the situation enough. The Empire did not need infighting, or worse, a civil war right now. And as far as he was concerned, losing his head was preferable if it meant ensuring Imperial rule and the safety of the galaxy was cemented forever. They may have been disgusting, alien-loving, democratically-elected rebels.

But he also knew they were his best hope of aiding to contain this situation, and thus, he kept quiet and respectful. He could do that much for them considering they were likely aiding any surviving non-infected Imperials, needless to say. Perhaps a token measure of respect for hated foes who did the Empire this service in full.

For now though, it paid to have patience in full, and so, he waited to hear back from his men boarding the station.

 

[Wedge Draav]

Flyboy​

Wedge was in a bit of a pickle. He got orders from some Admiral that he never heard of, which he just nodded at, but didn't respond to. Him closing the incoming transmission was about as much of a response as they'd get. He knew they weren't happy but- who was, at a time like this?

Wedge rolled his X-wing, scouring the wreckage, still searching for infected craft.

Then, another Imperial fleet came into view. As if losing the battle wasn't enough, more Imperials, broadcasting on an open channel, one wishing to destroy the station, the other, to destroy it. Wedge was of the opinion to destroy it. So he flicked his open comms on, chuckling before broadcasting, knowing full well he'd receive a reprimand.

Captain Draav you are not a representative of the Alliance and cannot speak for the entirety of the blah blah blah, blah, blah, blah. I am blah blah blah. I am your commander blah blah blah. I am wearing a fancy suit.

"General Zhong this is Captain Draav, Commander of Revenant Squadron."

He let that statement hang in the air for a moment. Wedge Draav was the boogeyman to some Dark Imperials- him and the rest of Revenant squadron destroyed the Crimson Liners, and dominated the skies above Coruscant, scoring dozens of kills, along with Wedge's boo thang Reima Vitalis being one of the ones responsible for the destruction of the Eclipse.

"That station is already lost. You know, I know it. Ain't no saving it. Galaxy ain't worth risking over one station with nobody but the dead on it."

Flying that thing into the nearest star was Wedge's suggestion, but, nobody really liked Wedge's suggestions. He flicked off his comms, smiling, knowing there'd be an entire ass-chewing waiting for him. He held his X-wing in a holding pattern, scanning for escape pods, and more transports, or worse-

TIE fighters.

But he'd shot down too many of them to count. More Imperial Pilots died to Wedge Draav than any other pilot in history, from Tython to Coruscant. And he was hedging his bets that the fact that it was in fact, him, telling the Imperials to see reason, maybe they'd see the gravity of the threat. Maybe.

Or, they'd ferment a Civil War between Imperials... again. And have another Imperial faction trying to take over the galaxy. Which, Wedge never understood- the obsession of territory and status. Making your Empire or Alliance bigger and bigger- seemed a fool's errand, what with the way the galaxy worked. The Alliance was paying for it now, to the tunes of thousands of troops and more ships than he wanted to think about. The Imperials faced the same music before, as did the Sith Order, time and time again. A vicious cycle. Get big, die big.

So why risk it all over a space station?

What was so important about it?

What was on it?

 

[Nulgath Zardai]

Objective I
Tags: Zaiya Ceti Mahsa Kahlil Noble Amelia von Sorenn Joseph Torson @

As Immortuos regarded Zaiya with his steely, calculating stare, a flicker of memory stirred in his mind—one he had long tried to bury. In the ripple of her skin and the glimmer of resolve in her gaze, he glimpsed something achingly familiar, a reminder of a softness he once cherished. His daughter, Ellesime. The name drifted unbidden into his thoughts, as unwelcome as it was powerful.

He forced himself to look away from Zaiya, masking his inner turmoil with a feigned disinterest as he continued to trace the map. But he could feel the knot tightening within him, an uncomfortable awareness of a parallel he wished didn't exist. Zaiya's determination, her empathy—even the way she looked at him with that strange mixture of hope and caution—it all mirrored the defiance and compassion his daughter had once shown, a brightness that seemed to slice through his darkness.

"Elle-." The name barely escaped his lips in a rasped whisper, a ghost of a memory clawing its way into the present. He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away, burying it beneath layers of anger and sarcasm.

"How, indeed," he replied, a sardonic edge creeping into his voice. His fingers, though trembling, traced the contours of the station's blueprint, movements controlled and deliberate. " The sickness is not just a plague. Its an elixir for immortality and agelessness but only if you have the right ingredients and timing. I did my research long ago and when the time came I made...sacrifices to ....ensure my legacy." He glanced at his body and briefly and felt his thoughts trail away to more past thoughts he had long suppressed. I could almost hear my name being called...Nulgath.

He turned his gaze back to Zaiya, his expression twisting into something hardened. "Yes I can help, But do not think this... cooperation will change anything, Jedi," he said, his tone harsher than he intended, as if trying to silence his own thoughts. "Sentiment has no place here. That's something you should... learn sooner rather than later."

But even as he spoke, the echo of his daughter's memory lingered, and he hated how it softened his stance, however slight. Zaiya, unknowingly, had pried open a part of him he had locked away, and the realization gnawed at him, bringing with it a bitterness that only deepened his resentment—and his guarded resolve to survive this ordeal alongside her.

" You can call me Lord Immortuos." He spat out the name as if the girl was a subornate to him and then frowned when he realized it sounded less than lethal with his raspy voice. Like it came off his tongue with a bad flavor and the very Darth title he had gone by for so many years had suddenly seemed like an entirely different being altogether. It was a hard realization to stumble into and it showed in the Siths visage. Not in the hardened features of his facial features but his eyes. Deep green eyes that were previously sulfuric before his exposure to the Light. They now only reflected a strange sort of humanity. Something that was foreign to Immortuos.

He started to walk or hobble away toward one of the passage way tunnel entrances but stopped. " Wait you said us? How many are coming?"

 

[Marlon Sularen]

D U D E_W H E R E S_M Y_S P A C E_S T A T I O N
Objective : Rescue & Containment

DARK EMPIRE

From the bridge of the INV Tyuk, Sularen watched as the situation unfolded infront of him. A second fleet commanded by Admiral Max Sinn who had assisted the Dark Empire at Tython, had arrived with an bold ultimatum to both the Empire and the Alliance : They had 12 hours to clear the station or the Tetan Fleet would open fire. Both the commanding officer of the Alliance Fleet, Rear Admiral Shiran and General Xiang Xhong were quick to respond requesting that Max Sinn and her fleet to withdraw. However as the Warlord of the Empire, Sularen held absolute authority over all Imperial Military Forces including ones from local systems such as Empress Teta which included Sinn's Fleet.

"Open a channel with Admiral Sinn." Sularen said, which the communications officer soon complied by soon patching the Imperial Warlord through with Sinn's Flagship giving Sularen a direct line of communication with the Tetan Admiral. "Admiral Sinn. Stand down immediately. You're presence was not requested although if you have any spare man available we could utilize them in containing the outbreak within the station." Sularen instructed. It was clear that Sinn's arrival had shook both Imperial and Alliance forces and now the Warlord would have to do damage control in order to regain control of the situation.

Sularen then took out a commlink and then proceeded to open a direct channel to General Zhong before addressing the Atrisian General. "General Zhong. What is the status of your operation?" As Sularen waited for a response, he proceeded to gaze upon the Space Station infront of him. There was much to do today and the Warlord of the Empire was determined to ensure that everything went exactly as he had forseen.

Tags [DE] | General Xiang Zhong | Max Sinn | Domaric Mordane | Onrai | Teket
Tags [GA] | Vesh’ira’nuruodo | Wedge Draav | Silas Westgard | Drego Ruus ​

 

[Max Sinn]

​

OBJ iii - Containment
Theme: The Wild Card
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Vesh’ira’nuruodo | Silas Westgard | Drego Ruus | General Xiang Zhong

---

Spoiler

Deadly Sinn - Admiral Sinn
Divinity - Praefect-class Star Destroyer
Dredge - Praefect-class Star Destroyer
x4 Caçadore-Class Assault Corvette

"We have in coming messages from Imperial and Alliance both ma'am." Of course they did, neither of them understood their position. "They are saying we need to stand down and leave." Max thought to herself we hadn't even done anything yet and they were both already threatening them. Always jumping straight to violence her small fleet not even half what they had brought to Tython and war was on all their brains where hers was on the safety of the systems that the Tetan's claimed dominion over. This station that held a threat to that dominion.

"Bring up the shields, we maybe in for a rocky ride keep weapons targeting the station. They still have hours left and we will not try to engage unless they force our hand so we stay put for now." She tapped her fingers on the edge of her command chair as she looked at various screens. She knew it was a tense situation, but her mind was protecting their territory from the threat of the station. She knew firsthand the violence the Alliance perpetuated and The Dark Empires endless depths of treachery, she had no allies in this.

The fleet remained at the very edge of average long range it didn't move or reposition as the Alliance fleets seemingly moved. A channel was then opened to first to General Xiang Zhong command. "This is Admiral Sinn, I do not answer to the Imperial authority, unless Tetan high Command gives that order I do not take any command the imperials give. The Tython conflict is in hand and temporary agreement has ended until a new permanent one is written up. Since this is a threat to Tetan space I will not leave, as for standing down we have made no provoking attacks or maneuvers. You and your men have time to do your clean up and rescue your survivors, but the station will once time has run off your clock."

She then ended the communication with them and then opened a channel to the alliance and Vesh’ira’nuruodo . "This Admiral Sinn of the Deadly Sinn, this is Tetan first fleet we do not recognize your authority. We are here for the safety and protection of our systems; you have permission to secure and rescue your men with in allotted twelve-hour period. At which point we will be taking out the station. As you can probably tell our weapons systems are not targeted on you or the Imperial fleet. I know the violent tendencies of the Alliance may override common sense, but that station has to go, it not only a threat to the system I defend but many others. I will not take action against the alliance unless provoked but we are not leaving." Some of Max's officers turned and looked at her, this was the most diplomatic she had ever been. They knew how she hated it and would just rather throw might at the situation rather than talk it through. However, this was a different and things were on the edge of a knife.

"Ma'am we have another transmission coming in from Grand Admiral Sularen." Max rolled her eyes everyone just wanted to talk today. "Open a channel then."


"Grand Admiral Sularen, you know as much as I respect you that we do not answer to you at this point and time. We have made no moves to attack Imperial or Alliance fleets we are targeting the station for when the time elapses I have allotted you. We may have had an alliance in the Tython conflict, and we may again in the future with negotiations with our Empress and Imperials but don't you forget your old Emperor stabbed us in the back. We are here for the safety of our systems; we have every right to be here whether you requested it or not." Max gritted her teeth; she didn't like the imperials demands one bit they seemed to think they held authority over her but they didn't. Hell now she was already thinking the Empresses negotiations would be nothing more then a fools errand.

​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Operative Suit | Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers | Double-Bladed Lightsaber

Valery's pulse thundered as she felt the emotions emanating from her husband and the Padawans trapped beyond the darkened corridors. Kahlil's presence was steady, a beacon that pulled her forward, guiding her through the maze of undead and Imperial forces alike. Her breath was steady, each inhale charging her with purpose, each exhale pushing her forward with relentless speed.

With a surge of energy, she launched into motion. The corridor blurred around her as her violet lightsaber ignited, blazing through the darkness like a storm barely contained. The infected lurched forward, jaws open in twisted, silent screams, but Valery's blade carved through them with such precision they barely registered her presence before falling. Her movements were faster than sight, a fluid blend of blade work and Force energy that allowed her to slice through the waves of undead as if they were no more than mist.

Ahead, the dim lights flickered, casting warped shadows across the walls as another wave of the infected surged. With a graceful pivot, Valery lifted a hand, summoning a massive wave of Force energy that burst forward, slamming into the creatures and scattering them like dry leaves in a storm. She advanced in the wake of her own attack, her blade flashing in arcs of violet light that left the infected little more than piles of ash and torn flesh.

The ones who survived were easy targets for the Padawans.

Closer now. She could feel Kahlil's presence, strong but surrounded. The sound of undead clawing, scratching, and pounding on the bridge door echoed through the station, feeding her urgency. Another group of infected lunged at her from the shadows, their bodies twisted and skeletal, but she swept through them with speed and purpose, every strike fluid and lethal. One by one, they fell until there was silence — an unnatural, eerie stillness in the corridor as the last of the creatures lay motionless around her.

Inside the bridge, Kahlil and the Padawans would notice the same, as they were left in silence.

A beat later, the heavy blast doors to the bridge shuddered under an immense force, metal creaking until huge cracks began to form and expand. With one final explosive crack, the door shattered into countless fragments, scattering like glass and leaving a thick haze of dust.

As the dust and debris settled, one figure was left standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the still-glowing embers of her lightsaber. The violet blade illuminated her face, casting her fiery amber eyes in an intense glow, and her gaze fell immediately on Kahlil, her expression a mixture of fierce determination and deep relief. She stepped forward, her presence a quiet promise of protection, and for a long moment, her gaze — full of emotion — held his, a silent reassurance that she was here, that she would always be here for them.

But it also showed how worried she had been.

"Love," she said with an emotionally strained voice, "Is everybody alright?"

Kahlil Noble Azurine Varek Ayhan
Closed​

 

[Ran Serys]

As Ran focused on the newfound vigor Cora allowed her, She stood straighter and grimaced a smile. She was amused at having heard Cora’s sarcasm, and also agreed with its sentiment.

“Or perhaps you can stab them, Mercenary.” Ran added with her own joke. Her tone was less sarcastic than Cora’s. It was hard to have a biting tone when one was grateful not to be falling down an elevator shaft.

Ran thanked Corazona as she tapped the hand that kept her from falling down the shaft headfirst. “Let’s continue.” The mirialan announced. “It won’t be long until we reach the MedBay.” Ran continued as she crawled down another set of steel girders and reached the levels below.

Ran paused before an access door to the Med Bay as Cora returned a message from her comms. Ran heard Kryze and recognized a name of the old Mandalorian clans. She also listened to Cora volunteer a warning. Good. If any members of the warrior culture were going to board, they needed to know what they were signing up for.

Ran opened the door to the Med Bay. The second she did, they were no longer alone. The quiet undead turned to the doorway. They snarled. A chorus of screams left their rotting mouths and then they marched toward the door. Ran held both hands before her and pushed the undead in waves. The force crashed against them, knocking them off of their feet.

“Ready yourselves! Don’t let them touch you or it’s all over!” Ran screamed.

“Traitor!” The Undead yelled at Tibera. They were bloodthirsty. “Rip the Jedi apart!” They screamed to each other with excitement as the Jedi entered. The Med Bay was infested with the virus, but they couldn't back down, lest more be lost.

Ran ignited her lightsaber. Its sapphire blade hummed in resilience. Thanks to Cora, Ran was ready to take down the undead threat.

Corazona von Ascania Tibera Jessen Haliat Kryze​

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"Sentiment is what gives us purpose."

Kahlil glanced to the once Sith Lord in silence. In truth, this mirrored his own path. When he returned to the Sith, when he chose to put on that black robe so he might undermine his Father and eliminate that threat, he'd crossed lines. And, ironically enough, it'd been when he was cut completely from the Force that he'd realized just how bad of a choice he was intending to make.

Was it the same for this Sith? He couldn't judge the man, nor would he. But on the same side, he wasn't about to let him try and teach some lessons to the Padawan's he was in charge of.

"All of us, Immortous."

As if on cue, which given he could feel Valery's approach and he might've totally hyped it up just to make the entrance that much more amazing, the door shattered beside them. He just smiled his ever calm smile as he looked to Valery. Even through the dust he could see her, even before she lit her saber to make a glow. He would always see her.

He gave quite the tired smile. The exhausted, tired smile he'd been hiding from everyone else. But not to her.

"Looks like it's time to go. Hey love."

Valery Noble | Zaiya Ceti | Mahsa | Nulgath Zardai | Azurine Varek | Ayhan

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Deep Space
Objective I - Bridge of the Tython Space Station
Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x
Interacting with: Kahlil Noble Mahsa Amelia von Sorenn Valery Noble Nulgath Zardai
Nearby??: Ayhan Aris Noble Azurine Varek

-

Zaiya's heart ached as she continued to observe Nulgath Zardai , watching how his jaw clenched and twitched in ways that there was no denying there was something more there. The colors over the Lovalla Padawan's skin rippled in soft, cautious patterns -- subdued, like they were keeping a respectful distance. She knew she should be wary, especially after everything he'd done, all the threats he'd thrown their way. But somehow, under all that bitterness and anger, Zaiya couldn't shake the sense that he carried a wound deeper than anything physical. It was like she could feel his grief pulsing beneath the surface, hidden in the spaces between his words.

When he mumbled something under his breath -- 'Elle-' -- she barely caught it, but it seemed to hang in the air, unspoken and heavy. For a moment, it seemed as if something flickered in Immortuos eyes glinted with a flicker of something almost human, and Zaiya's empathy for him only grew, and she found herself caught in the weight of his pain, her thoughts tinged with a sympathy she hadn't expected. Her own sadness flared with soft bronze, deep greys, and silver-blue lights, casting a gentle glow over her skin.

There was no doubt that the Sith was trying to brush it off with sarcasm, but Zaiya didn't buy it for a second. She could feel the strain in his voice, the way he clothed himself in bitterness and sardonic tones. But then his words drew the Padawan's attention back.

An elixir for immortality, he had said. She felt a chill at the price he must have paid, the sacrifices he'd mentioned. And yet, she sensed the regret beneath his bitterness, something lingering there that the empath couldn't help but resonate with.

His gaze fell on her then, sharp and guarded, his voice trying to reclaim that lethal edge.

"Yes I can help, But do not think this... cooperation will change anything, Jedi," he said, his tone harsher than he intended, as if trying to silence his own thoughts. "Sentiment has no place here. That's something you should... learn sooner rather than later."

But Zaiya didn't flinch; instead, she stood a little straighter, meeting his gaze with calm resolve.

"Sentiment," she said, her voice soft yet unwavering, "can drive us and give us hope..." then, a bit more quietly, " even if you try to bury it."

"Sentiment is what gives us purpose."

Kahlil Noble 's steady presence beside her lent weight to her words.

Just then, the silence shattered, Zaiya whipping her head to look towards its origin. The bridge doors groaned under an immense pressure until they gave way with a deafening crack, splintering into fragments. Dust clouded the air, but through the haze, Zaiya saw a figure emerge, a violet lightsaber blazing amidst the debris until the fog cleared.

Master Valery Noble stood there, and a sense of relief swept over the Lovalla. They were not alone! None the less, there was no avoiding the expression Master Noble's had had as she searched then landed on Kahlil -- something that Zaiya recognized as relief but also something more. In that moment, it was clear just how deeply they cared for each other, their bond shining even amid chaos.

Watching them brought Zaiya a strange hope. She looked back at Immortuos, who stood there, silent and unmoving -- but maybe, just maybe, she saw something more there -- an echo of loss and longing.

 

[Mahsa]

Location: Bridge Room, Deep Space
Objective: Survive

They were drawn to his emotions, the feelings that his broken soul barely managed to keep at bay, like moths to a flickering flame. The dissonant notes that had shrieked against the Force had long since disappeared, though something of a muffled echo seemed to remain about him… but the why of it wasn’t something Mahsa understood.

A soft chime had brought her attention away from the maps and back to the fallen Sith Lord, barely catching the whispered name under his breath. Citrine and apricot highlights flashed among the deeper blues that had coated her hair, the Kazelrrian unable to help herself as she resonated with his turmoil. Grief and loss were two emotions Mahsa was the most familiar with and, while she was uncertain if her own experience could somewhat compare to his own, it was impossible to miss how they lingered around the very edge of his voice as he spoke.

"You can call me Lord Immortuos." The faint trace of a smile lighted her face as he offered an introduction, crude and rugged as it was. "I-I’m Mahsa, and she’s Zaiya."

Despite his hardened gaze and sarcastic words he hadn’t actively sought to push them away from him, and whatever lingered behind that emerald gaze of him felt more human than the darkness she’d seen lurking behind the Siths Mahsa had met in the past.

"How many are coming?" An eerie silence had fallen behind the emergency blast doors, the sudden lack of scrapping nails and hushed growls unnatural given the situation they found themselves in. "All of us, Immortous."

A sharp sound echoed across the bridge room, almost as if it was responding to a silent command given by The Shield. She couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped as Mahsa instinctively jumped back, before the violet glow of a lightsaber highlighted the silhouette of Valery Noble among the dust.

"Zaiya, l-look…!" A hand reached to grasp the Lovalla’s own for a moment, as if seeking to make sure the scene before her eyes wasn’t just a wishful illusion, before three additional figures became noticeable as the dust settled. She recognized the faces of Aris Noble and Azurine Varek with ease, but it was the last one highlighted by the golden glow of his lightsaber who had her full attention then.

"A-Ayhan…?!"

---

Apparel

Devices

Weapons

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

【✶】⋆【✶】⋆【✶】

Amelia von Sorenn | Ayhan | Nulgath Zardai | Kahlil Noble | Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[Abraxas Colt]

​

Tags:

[TARGET] Pal Veda ​

Objective: Survive
Location: Portal Facility

​

Beneath his helmet, the commando smiled, only this time he wouldn't keep the expression hidden. He put both hands on his temples and made a quick twist motion, popping the seal between his body glove and the helmet. His face wore the same bitter grin that most of his comrades did: one of pure devotion to the Imperial throne. You could see his unfaltering loyalty embedded like a sickness in his eyes.

"I am Abraxas Colt," the man said. "Imperial Storm Commando, First Lieutenant." It was highly unlikely that Veda cared to know Colt's rank and service details, but he didn't care. The currency of the Empire was fear and respect.

Abraxas was just about to show the man just how fearful he could be when Pal directed his focus to the commotion behind him. Twitching with limbs bent at uncomfortable angles, the pair of troopers shambled toward him. "Stand down!" the commando barked at the nearest trooper, who groaned through his modulator as he reached for Brax's chest plate.

"I said stand down!" he growled, rearing his arm back and slamming his helmet into the trooper's skull. The superior plating of the commando armor cracked the trooper's helmet easily, revealing mutated flesh inside that made Abraxas audibly curse. "Feth," he spat. He reached for his sidearm and executed the grounded zombie before snapping aim on the other and dispatching it with ease.

With a frustrated flick of his wrist, he slung the spattered blood from his helmet and secured it over his head. He turned to Pal, glaring through his visor.

"Fething Sith," the man hissed. There was venom laced in his words; he, like many Imperials, felt that the Empire would be much better off without the petulant Dark Siders and their Mawite dogs. Those... things that used to be troopers were just one of the Sith's vile creations. Abraxas wasn't sure how it worked, but he knew it would take more than a few stormtroopers and security droids to get off the station alive. He needed someone he could count on.

To his chagrin, that appeared to be Pal Veda.

Brax nodded at the man's blaster. "If you shoot me in the back, I'll come back to eat you," the Imperial threatened, hoping Veda was wise enough to respect the age-old 'enemy of my enemy' adage without any undo treachery.

 

[Tibera Jessen]

"Yeah yeah, I'd be pretty pissed too if I had a hole in my gut..." Tibera said with a somewhat awkward smirk. It was just plain weird to be on the same side as a pair of ladies she was shooting at prior, but hey, it beat getting sent to a trial in Alliance space. She didn't even know that the Jedi had lost the battle for the space station yet, well, it hadn't registered at least. She was really trying to just survive with all these dead bastards around.

Speaking of the dead, they were a particularly mouthy set of corpses...

“Traitor!” The Undead yelled at Tibera.

"Traitor?! You're fracking dead! My contract is over!" She was more than willing to have a shouting match with the dead. Though, she had pride enough to not want the word traitor to stick. Immediately she raised her arm, and took careful aim at the exact infected that had gargled that word at her. With a squeeze of the trigger, a bolt of whitish-blue light was lobbed down range. It passed between the two jedi ahead of her, and stuck the infected in the chest.

What happened next occurred in the span of microseconds, barely enough to register by the human eye. The light burned through the soldier's armor, and shined through cracks forming across the body, then there was an explosion of light, followed by the sounds of ash and armor hitting the floor. If there was any question as to what kind of weapon this was, they were quickly dispelled as the dust cloud filled the air.

Maybe not the smartest idea to use this particular weapon around Cora and Ran, but it would make the cleanup substantially easier. "You two are seriously getting into lightsaber range with these gross bastards? You're a shade crazier than I am!" She said, before firing a few more disruptor bolts at the scattering dead, turning another couple to piles of ash and debris.

Her mind was focused on the fight, watching for dead moving at her, but there was a worry in her mind... What if one of these disgusting wretches touched her. Even an errant scratch might be enough to turn her... She wasn't just fighting for herself anymore. Her mind remembered her flyboy, Kalic Daws , and images of his face spurred her to stay close with the Jedi. She had to make it home...

Corazona von Ascania Ran Serys Haliat Kryze

 

[Pal Veda]

Objective I: Survive
Tags: Abraxas Colt

Pal was admittedly a bit stunned when the Imperial took out his two men. But were they even his men? They had appeared more like creatures, mindless and distorted, completely unattached to the reality around them. The reality that had changed significantly just now. Moments ago, Pal was surrendering, resigning himself to Imperial custody and already plotting his eventual escape. Now, he wasn’t so sure what was going on.

One thing was certain. This commando knew more about the situation than the captain. And it had become dire enough that he was not only willing to let Pal walk, but he was even encouraging him to take up his blaster with the Imperial team.

And he didn’t need to be told twice. Pal drew the IB-94 and spun it once before catching the grip in is palm and moving his finger to the trigger. “First Lieutenant Colt,” he acknowledged, a little sarcasm in his voice repeating the man’s formal title, “I think we both agree that I’m the least of your concerns for the moment. But it might be helpful for you to tell me a little bit about what the hell is going on!”

The techs were beginning to panic, unarmed, untrained, and even less sure of the situation than the smuggler. “Wake him up,” Pal ordered them — formal authority unnecessary when you’re the one holding a blaster — motioning toward the engineer he had stunned earlier. “You all need to get out of here, too.”

Pal’s mind raced, trying to fathom what he had found himself in the middle of. Abraxas’s reaction had been immediate — Fething Sith! That did not bode well. I’ll come back to eat you . . .

Wait! No! With implicit permission to move freely, he stepped toward the dead troopers on the ground and peered down at the face of one through his cracked helmet. What he saw — and smelled — disgusted him. His eyes shot up to meet Abarax’s, concern and questions apparent. “What have they done?”

 

[Abraxas Colt]

​

Tags:

[TARGET] Pal Veda ​

Objective: Survive
Location: Portal Facility

​

“Battle droids are expensive and organic soldiers are hard to train,” Brax said coldly. He looked to the rotting corpses on the floor, then to Pal. “I’ve only read reports of this before. It’s a perverse amalgam of Imperial engineering and Sith alchemy.” He left out the fact that the reports he read weren’t exactly his to read; that was a detail he wouldn’t share with anyone, especially not an Alliance lackey, and never in a room full of Imperial witnesses.

“Don’t get bitten or cut, watch for droplets, and remember that I’m you’re ticket off this goddamn station - you need a clearance code to leave in my shuttle, and I don’t carry cylinders,” he warned, referring to the detrimentally easy access an Imperial officer’s code cylinders had when pinned in a chest pocket.

The lieutenant leaned down and pulled the dead troopers’ sidearms from their holsters and tossed them to the engineers. He did the same with their E-11s. He split the Imperial squad into two teams, one to protect the technicians and the other to escort himself and his Alliance captive to the hangar. “Make sure they’re loaded into the escape pods before you rendezvous with us at the shuttle.”

“Yes sir!”

“The rest of you, with us.” Three stormtroopers and a security droid. Brax hoped it would be enough.

He moved toward the still-glowing hole they cut through the blast doors, but something inside the commando insisted that he defend himself against Alliance scrutiny. He looked to Pal again before stepping through.

“This isn’t my Empire,” he said bitterly, nodding at the zombies. “The Imperials aren’t Sith, and the Sith aren’t Imperials. We share a bed, not beliefs.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Lady Corazana. If you are able, please keep this frequency open. I will use it to find you. What is your present status? Are you in immediate peril?"

That question was answered by the screech of the medbay door, and the guttural shrieks of the undead within.

"Traitor! Rip the Jedi apart!"

"Oh, Ashla," Cora grumbled. Of course they would've swarmed the medbay. That was just their luck.

Tibera squeeze off a shot that passed in the narrow space between herself and Ran. There was a flash of light, and one of the walking corpses dissipated into ash. It had all happened so tremendously fast that Cora blinked while trying to register it. She chanced a glance back at the mercenary, wide eyed in a mix of awe and fear - where was this weapon when she'd been frozen to the wall? To think that she could've been reduced to dust in a millisecond was humbling.

"You two are seriously getting into lightsaber range with these gross bastards? You're a shade crazier than I am!"

"Next time, let us know that you've got a disruptor," the blonde grumbled. If there was a next time, hopefully they would somehow find themselves on the same side.

"We're in the medbay, overrun by the enemy," she commed back to Haliat. "I've two others with me requiring extraction. Your timely intervention will be…"

She paused to duck beneath a corpse's outstretched swipe, cleaving his arm at the shoulder with her saber.

"…most appreciated."

Ran Serys Tibera Jessen Haliat Kryze

 

[Azurine Varek]

You Shan't Share My Fate

Outfit: Clothing | Right Arm | Glove
Weapons: Lightsaber

After Azurine's quick whip of fire, it didn't take very long for the fighting to break into full swing. Her body had yet to really begin to heal much from everything she had been through on Tython, and even if it ached, she was still standing for the most part, and thus, she would charge in with the fluid ferociousity of her fighting forms.

She fought like a whirlwind fury, flipping between different enemies with acrobatic movement and propelling from walls for higher strikes. At one point, she'd even used Aris as a jumping point for the momentum of a higher downward swing. When one came down on her faster than she expected, she quickly raised her robotic arm, the infected biting down on it only to practically shatter their teeth doing so and giving her the perfect opening to bring her yellow saber through it's chest. There was no time to feel bad for the suffering around her. It was fight or die.

Finally, they would make it to the bridge of the station, Azzie moving through the dust right alongside her master. Though her eyes were a shifting violet hue, they held a fire that mirrored the Valery's. Her eyes darted across the room, finally allowing her sight to go back to normal from the radar force sight she'd been using out in the darkness. She didn't recognize everyone in the room, but that didn't matter at that moment. They couldn't stay here much longer. She moved instinctively to start checking for wounded and making sure those that were weren't infected as well.

"Are there any wounds that need to be dealt with before we can go? Because those things aren't gonna stop, and we need to evacuate asap," she spoke swiftly, with the tone of a budding leader who'd seen many battles that had ended in ways similar to this before in her lifetime.

She then turned her attention back to Valery and Kahlil with a soft smile. This wouldn't be the end for them. She swore to herself that they wouldn't have to suffer the way she did on a daily basis.

Valery Noble | Aris Noble | Ayhan | Kahlil Noble | Nulgath Zardai | Zaiya Ceti | Mahsa | Amelia von Sorenn​

 

[Pal Veda]

Objective: Survive (AND KILL ZOMBIES!)
Tags: Abraxas Colt

”Be sure to tell your Sith buddies that when we get out of here.” Pal had no love for the Empire, but he at least understood the sentiment. In reality, he had little love for the Alliance. But they were a little less evil, at least on paper, and they paid him well. That was the difference. He wasn’t a soldier; he wasn’t here fighting for some cause or for change. Just a hired gun making moves for a few creds and thrills. Or at least he told himself that. Really, it was becoming harder to tell the difference. It was much easier fighting for the Rebellion. He believed in the cause. Young and dumb, but he knew they were fighting for freedom. Neither the Empire nor the Alliance cared much for real freedom, the Empire just tended to kill those that stood in its way, whereas the Alliance resorted to political pressure, blockades, taxes, less harsh methods of controlling the galactic population.

Pal followed Abraxas and his men through the large hole cut through the blast doors and peered down the hallway. It looked clear, but it was hard to tell in these long corridors with the lights flickering on and off, some completely blown. Confidently moving past the Imperials, he holstered his blaster and recovered the shotgun he’d dropped earlier when confronting the now very zombified and very dead troopers.

Chhh-chhhick. Racking the weapon put him at ease, knowing he had a few slugs left in the tube. Nine by his count, having already used one on the vent on his way to the turbo lift shaft earlier. Another ten in his bag. That would have to do for now.

The team in charge of getting the techs to the escape pods headed in one direction, so Pal started moving in the other. The Captain, the Lieutenant, three commandos, and one bigass security droid. What a team. In a moment of caution, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they hadn’t changed their mind. No blasters aimed at his back yet.

”It’s your team, Colt. I ain’t lookin’ to die here today, and you seem competent enough.“ It came off as a bit insulting, probably intentionally, but Pal was secretly impressed with the poise displayed by the Imperial in this moment of crisis, having quickly taken command of the evolving situation and barked orders resembling a plan without hesitant. “Which way to the hangar?”

As the words left his mouth, sounds of footsteps and agitated moaning could be heard ahead. Around the corner and out of the shadows stepped four — no, five . . . six . . . “Dank ferrik!” Pal yelled in frustration. They just kept coming. “I’m guessing it’s that way,” he sighed, knowing the answer given how his luck had been so far.

No time to pout. Figuring Abraxas would command his men, Pal went ahead and took aim, sending a slug through the first undead trooper that started sprinting toward them. Light ‘em up!