Junction Echoes of War — GA/DE Junction of Obredaan and Vandelhelm

[Valery Noble]

​

The Battle for Coruscant is over.

An invasion of unbelievable magnitude has shaken the Core and despite the Alliance's pyrrhic victory at Coruscant, the situation is far from under control. The Ecumenopolis is left in ruin, with entire districts torn apart and every structure of significance on the surface damaged or entirely destroyed. Even below the surface, throughout the thousands of levels that span across the planet, intense infernos continue to ravage homes, factories, and entire city blocks once populated by thousands.

In response, the Galactic Alliance has turned its focus from fighting to recovery efforts. Civilians caught in the attack are being relocated, tended to, and rescued from collapsed infrastructure. Survivors of the invading Empire are being searched for as well, to be held captive and interrogated by the SIA, if not outright killed in aftermath battles. But not just the Alliance is making moves following the invasion.

The Empire's fleet is in retreat with Alliance ships on their tail, hoping to regroup with other forces and determine its casualties and next course of action. Deeper within Empire territory itself, political and military leaders come together for the same purpose.

The future is in motion, as both sides plan their next moves.

Objective I - The Hunt
(Duelists)​

While the Empire's fleet and main forces withdraw back to their controlled worlds, some are left behind on Coruscant. Jedi, the SIA, and soldiers all have been tasked to search Coruscant's many levels to locate and apprehend them before they can make their way off-world or cause more damage to an already broken planet. Any captured individual has great potential for crucial intelligence.

But be aware — they might fight until the bitter end.

Objective II - Search and Rescue
(Any)​

With much of the planet damaged or destroyed, and countless civilians trapped underneath rubble, injured or homeless, an immense amount of people and resources are being directed to the recovery of Coruscant. Search and Rescue teams walk among the city's ruins to find survivors, companies and military come together to remove debris and set up crucial medical outposts, and many more are slowly starting to rebuild what was lost.

Objective III - Withdrawl and Pursuit
(warposters | fleeters)​

Once the tide of the battle had turned against the Empire, its remaining forces started preparing to withdraw back to Empire-held territory. In a coordinate effort, their ground forces make moves to reach their transport ships for an escort off-world. At the same time, the imperial feet must cover this retreat and make a safe withdrawal itself. But the Alliance army and fleets aren't broken yet, and hoping to pursue and neutralize as many of the attackers as possible before they escape.

Whether on land, in orbit or deeper into Space

Objective IV - Moving the Pieces
(Politicians | military leaders)​

Behind the War Front, political and military leaders from both sides are already meeting to discuss the next steps in the war. The Alliance's goal is to liberate the Core and avoid further enemy infiltration, but they must also concern themselves with the future of Coruscant and other external threats. The Empire, meanwhile, has its own tasks at hand. The defeat on Coruscant has slowed down expansion in the Core, but not all is lost. Several planets remain under tight control, and the war is only just beginning.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Jedi Robes | Lightsaber
Tag: Corazona von Ascania

The Battle for Coruscant had left many wounded and dead. Civilians, soldiers, Sith...

Jedi.

A makeshift medical camp had been set up not far from the crumbling Jedi Temple. It was a rag tag thing: lacking resources and manpower, so stretched thin that crates were being used as makeshift medical cots. Anyone who possessed a pair of hands was now qualified to serve as a nurse—because the actual licensed nurses were few and far between, spread across the devastated city.

It was a hectic scene that needed the attentions of a Jedi Healer. Gatz was no Amani Serys-Organa, but he was far more qualified than many of the people who were trying to pitch in—and for all their help and goodwill, they simply weren't doctors. They needed people who were. They needed anyone and everyone that had even a modicum of medical knowledge.

Unfortunately, instead of lending his expertise, Gatz Derrevar was one of the many patients of this makeshift clinic.

He lay on one of the few real medical cots, having been stripped down to his undergarments. A man and a woman worked tirelessly above him, bloody forceps digging into his skin, pulling shreds of metal from his body, all while Gatz writhed beneath them in pain. Much like with everything else in this makeshift camp, painkillers were a luxury resource. Not a given.

A particularly long piece of durasteel was ripped from his chest. A sob ripped itself out of Gatz's throat, tears of excruciation trailing down his cheeks. Hands bound in latex, and stained in crimson were pressed over the wound immediately—meant to staunch the bleeding, but the pain that came with the pressure had Gatz crying out again.

The second set of hands quickly pressed gauze to his wound.

"He's lost too much blood—"

"—we don't have any on hand, the supply ships are still in disarray—"

"Master Jedi, what's your blood type?"

"O..." Gatz rasped, "...negative."

"Is anyone here type O negative?!" The man called out to the camp, "please, we need a donor now!"

 

[Rulonom Laborr]

V I C E R O Y
THE TRADE FEDERATION

​

The Dark Empire and the Galactic Alliance's conflict over Coruscant resulted in varying interpretations among the parties involved. The imperials considered it a costly pyrrhic victory, whereas the Alliance perceived it as a decisive triumph over evil forces. However, these differing ideologies held little significance for the Trade Federation of Planets, who had emerged the ultimate victor by staying out of the battle entirely, their forces fresh and amassing near Skako for the Blockade of Alderaan for outstanding debts owed to them.

Such a strategic move would provoke the ire of the Alliance, but they were entirely focused on the engagement with the Dark Imperials, enough for the Federation to impose a negotiated settlement with the Monarchy. The revitalization of Coruscant would be another great undertaking in the Federation's remarkable portfilio, yet it held utmost importance in reinstating the Galactic Economy to sufficent growth.

Typically, the responsibility of managing senate interference would rest with Minister Lodd Grimmin and Senator Monaray Dod , who are both competent individuals in the realm of Alliance Politics. However, due to the significance of the occasion, the Commanding Viceroy was required to be present in order to reassert the Federation's position on neutrality during times of war and the protection of trade routes.

"AWEEOROROROR...The Galactic Alliance emerged victorious in the conflict over the symbolic center of the galaxy; however, this triumph marks merely the commencement of a prolonged war. Numerous systems, situated in both the central regions and the frontier territories, face the imminent threat of being invaded and seized. With dwindling resources and the relentless drive for industrial advancement, societies are compelled to transition into a state of readiness for warfare admist the backdrop of an ever-expanding refugee crisis." Laborr said to the Federal Assembly, with a stern demeanor, fine-tuning the pressure suit components while the mechanisms emitted a hissing and squealing sound from within as methane gas was unleashed into awaiting lungs.

"Given the Alliance Credit's current strain and the potential emergence of a dual conflict with the Sith Order, the Trade Federation, in conjunction with the InterGalactic Banking Clan and the Velcar Free Commerce Zone, have injected an amount of 650 billion credits into the Alliance Economy as various forms of investments to keep the war machine afloat and our fleets and armies supplied in the coming months, with said investment being recouped at a later date when the war with the Empire comes to a close." Laborr further commented, wanting to provide some assurances that the Trade Federation was entirely supportive of the Alliance's mission in the conflict, but making note that such extensive loan programs will be repaid in due time.

 

[Ko Vuto]

​

Objective: Search and Rescue
Location: Coruscant, Undercity
Tag(s): OPEN

Ko exhaled deeply as he gently let go of another large piece of rubble through The Force. Knowing that time was of the essence and that the search and rescue process was a monumental task. He feared as though he couldn’t waste even a second. But he couldn’t be reckless in his attempts. Concerned that doing so could trigger more debris to collapse in on itself and crush those they attempted to rescue. It was a grueling balancing act of haste and caution.

The Kel Dor was focused on using his talents to act as a telekinetic forklift and excavator. Gently hoisting debris up to set aside safely. Once he reached any survivors Ko would call for medics to take it from there. He was no healer, not like some of his talented peers. The only thing he had going for him other than heavy lifting was that he could peer through all the carnage easier. The Force afforded him the ability to see what had been obscured. To reliably find survivors under the rubble. Although useful it also felt like a burden. Quietly making judgment calls on who should be saved first, who was critical, and who weren’t long for a world. All life is sacred in The Force, but here some lives were more sacred than others.

Stepping back, he wiped away sweat from his forehead and tried to catch his breath for as long as he could afford to keep going without tiring herself too much to be helpful. Being surrounded by so much devastation, so much despair, it hardly felt like a victory. But the stubborn Kel Dor didn’t want to let doubt creep into his soul. If he were to believe that capitulation was a better fate, he’d just discard what had already been sacrificed. Only then would the fighting and struggle be meaningless. Or maybe Ko just wanted to believe that. Merely forging some excuse to craft some meaning out of what had occurred… ​

​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Weapons: (None)

Even her Keshian eyes could barely pierce through the darkness that surrounded her. An entire chamber of the Jedi Temple had collapsed when she summoned the Force in an attempt to save herself. Detritus Ren had been an unexpected foe. One she wasn't afraid of, but his connection to Kyrel Ren — whose fragmented soul still lingered within her — had meant that even being in his presence felt excruciating. How could she fight someone who caused pain simply by being close to her?

Her only way out had been to bring the Temple down on them both.

With several coughs and groans of pain and discomfort, Valery pushed herself up to her hands and knees. She was covered in dust and debris, and her body had sustained some bruises and cuts. But the walls and ceiling luckily hadn't flattened her, and only trapped her in what could easily become her tomb.

One wrong move and she feared a further collapse of the compromised Temple structure.

She needed help.

Efret Farr | Open​

 

[Makko Vyres]

SHIELD | LIGHTSABER | PISTOL​

Then

Makko slowly dropped to one knee. He had stood there for minutes, waiting for the attack from the wraith. It never came.

Only when he had stretched out through the Force and found the point of light that was the dark presence of the sith, did he allow himself to fall.

Darkfyre, his lightsaber, tumbled from his grip and came to rest on the temple roof next to his knee. Reaching for his neck, his trembling fingers traced the gashes on either side of his neck.

Those canines had been so close to tearing an artery. It felt like he was bleeding enough, but he had been a small margin from bleeding out in seconds.

Taking a slow, shuddering breath, he picked up his lightsaber. One fight was over, but the battle was still raging.

Glancing to the skies, he saw the silhouette of the evacuation ship. They were clear.

Now

Makko brushed off the protests of the medical Droids. They had patched him up just hours ago. Then he had returned, needing stitches and two full doses of bacta.

"You should rest and..."

"This time I'm getting my armour."

There were still pockets of imperial forces in the area.

 

[Rylan Thorne]

Objective III - Withdrawal and Pursuit

Unclasping the attached respirator from his helmet, Rylan couldn't believe his eyes. The view from the shuttle hadn't done the destruction justice. Standing amidst the chaos weighed heavily on the soldier's soul. What weighed even more heavily was the fact that he and his troops had arrived late.

If only they hadn't encountered issues during the journey to Coruscant, maybe they could have prevented some of this devastation. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that thought. Although Cardia's troops had arrived after the initial conflict, Rylan had immediately shifted their objective to search and destroy upon stepping foot on the planet.

Fitting the respirator back into place, the Lieutenant holstered his blaster and climbed into the commander's seat of one of the retrofitted TX-225 assault tanks assigned for this engagement. Activating his commlink, he issued new orders. "Change of plans, troops. This is no longer a defensive assignment. This is now a search and destroy mission. Our objective is to ensure the only way the Imps leave Coruscant is in body bags."

With that, the TX-225 he was stationed in pushed forward, followed by four more tanks and the rest of the infantry troops that had been brought along.

Tags: pve | open

 

[Connel Vanagor]

LOCATION : Coruscant | OBJECTIVE : Retaliation
TAG (FRIENDLY) : OPEN | TAG (FOE) : OPEN​

Spoiler: PERSONAL EFFECTS

Jedi Defender Light Corvette
"Crotch Rocket" Speederbike
Headset Microphone Comm-link
Vambraces
Custom Robes/Armor
Shield
Astromech Droid "D1-N3"

Spoiler: Implants

Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
Muscle enhancements.
Hemo enhancements for blood flow
Hawkeye implants for eyes
Advanced Medical Implant
Scentzy

"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"​

[COMM TRAFFIC]

Objective I - The Hunt
(Duelists)​

Jedi Knight Connel Vanagor stood at the entrance to the lower levels of Coruscant, his heart pounding with anticipation. He knew that the Sith had been lurking in the shadows, plotting their next move to bring chaos and destruction to the galaxy. Armed only with his trusty shield, Connel was determined to put an end to their evil plans once and for all.

As he descended into the dark and dangerous depths of the city-planet, Connel could feel the malevolent presence of the Sith growing stronger with each step he took. The air was thick with tension, and he knew that he was walking into a trap. But he was prepared to face whatever dangers lay ahead, for the Force was with him.

Suddenly, a group of Sith acolytes emerged from the shadows, their red lightsabers glowing ominously in the darkness. Connel raised his shield, deflecting their deadly attacks with skill and precision. The sound of clashing metal echoed through the narrow corridors as he fought off his enemies with all his might. There was a secret to his shield that none of the Sith knew about. He could throw it at multiple targets and it came back to him, they round out the hard way.

But the Sith were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. Connel knew that he was outnumbered and outmatched, but he refused to give up. With every strike of his shield, he pushed himself to the limit, drawing on the power of the Force to guide his movements and protect him from harm.

As the battle raged on, Connel could feel the dark side of the Force swirling around him, threatening to consume him. But he remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to bring peace to the planet and drive the Sith off once and for all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Connel emerged victorious from the lower levels of Coruscant, his shield battered but sturdy, his spirit unbroken. The Sith had been vanquished, he knew that was not the entirety of those hiding in the shadows waiting to strike, but he was not done.

As he made his way back to the surface, Connel knew that his mission was far from over. The planet was still in danger, and the Sith would not rest until they had achieved their dark goals. But he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with nothing but his shield and the power of the Force. And as long as he had the courage and determination to fight for what was right, he knew that he would always emerge victorious in the end.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Coruscant, Battle Ruins
Search and Rescue
- Sera Mina - Open -
​

Two massive vessels appeared in the skies over Coruscant. Dagger-shaped, ten-thousand meters from pointed tip to aft thrusters, cutting imposing figures over a war-torn cityscape. Perhaps the people would have panicked in the streets, if the streets had still been there, and they didn't have worse problems to deal with. But the sigils on the two Lysandras' underbellies, declaring themselves proudly as Alderaanian vessels, helped to dispel any wayward fears.

The people of Coruscant had known nothing but fear for the past day. It was time to bring a little hope.

As soon as they got within range, both vessels dispensed a fleet of shuttles, down to the surface. In impressive time, a perimeter was created, and lines of tidy tents were picketed within it. Rescue teams began combing the crumbling city, searching for survivors, and hurrying them within. Alderaanian relief workers and Bacta Works volunteers busied themselves raising triage centers, temporary living quarters, and a central command structure, where Alicio Organa found himself barking orders.

It was... frightening, how fast it was all constructed. Sure, they were well-funded, numerous, motivated, as veteran a crew of relief workers as they could be... but Alicio could hardly believe it, nonetheless. The two Greenhouses were Bacta Works' donation to the kingdom of Alderaan, and their maiden mission was off to an excellent start. Not a few hours before, Alicio had been fleeing for his life, jumping from an Imperial Battlecruiser... Now...?

"-Send shuttles to sectors... two, five, and six." Alicio rattled off, reading damage surveys, fresh off the presses. "Two medics per team. They only return when they're full, or if someone's priority one. Understood?"

A round of 'yes, your Majesty's heralded their departure, immediately replaced by more workers, toting large crates. It was a quick thing for him to share the sorting chart he'd created, before his attention was stolen by an emergency in the medical wing, which was then replaced with gridlock at their impromptu landing field...

Through it all, Alicio felt... at peace. Forget the senate chambers, the negotiation halls, the battlefield... This was what he was meant to do.

"Somebody get a message out. We've got supplies to share."

 

[Jonyna Si]

​

Tag: Open
​

The sound of Rocs and Ladybugs zipped over the ruins of what was once the brilliant jewel of the Alliance.

War changes places. Permanently alters both topography and infrastructure. Jonyna knew that well. What followed the Ladybug she roamed the city in was a small stormcloud. One she was keeping on hand to help fend off flames that still raged throughout the city. The home she had called her own, now burning from the toils of Imperial Scum.

Her speeder took a turn as she headed towards a familiar spot, or at least what was left of it.

Club Retro. What had been her home of debauchery and relaxation, now reduced to a destroyed sign and a burning hole in the roof, revealing the stage that had once been home to-

"H-help..."

Her ears picked it up immediately. She motioned the driver of her craft to work on the flames, while she pushed in with the Bug's crew cage.

 

[Anthony Gray Sun]

Tags: Open​

Collapsed Skyscrapers were always tricky.

On top of the massive amounts of debris, people were genuinely buried in the makings of their own city.

Anthony stood atop of his unit's Ladybugs, watching the work unfold. The Service Corp of the NJO had teamed up with whomever remained of the Coruscanti Fire Department.

"This is hell." The fire chief spoke into the headset, speaking to his former comrade in blues.

"This is war." Anthony said back. "And not the last of it. Keep an eye out, we don't know who's under there still alive. Could be our people, could be their's."

"I'll let you handle it if there's a sith lord buried under that rubble." The old chief chuckled grimly. "Don't think they'd appreciate a full spray of cryoban."

 

[Sinestra]

TAGS: Open.

Sinestra had claimed her destiny.

Slaying her former master Romi Jade, she had killed the past. She had embraced her future and who and what she truly was. The weaknesses—the fear and doubt—had all been burned to ash by the inferno of the dark side.

And yet, the fulfillment of the Emperor's Grand Design eluded her. They had ransacked the sacred Jedi Temple, destroyed the ancient Senate Rotunda and laid waste across the seat of the galaxy, but Coruscant had resisted.

She had to escape, had to hurry back to her visions—see what the future held and how it could be corrected. Battalions of troopers along with dozens of Jedi were returning to the temple. She could not take them all on; the Force was infinite, but her grasp of it was not. Especially, not in her current weakened state.

The seer paced away through the underground tunnels of the temple from where she had initially arrived. She threw the hood of her cloak over her face, its cloth, much like the rest of her light armor and tabard, marred by blood and ash, and sought to blend in with the crowd of displaced citizens in the fog of chaos until she could find her way off-world.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

SEARCH & RESCUE
OPEN

He found himself on his knees, amidst the dust and debris, staring up at the battle-torn skies with a dejected stare. Behind him was the wreckage of one of their escape pods, having crashed into the remains of a building and nearly killed its occupants. He didn't recall how they'd ripped the door open and dug their way out, hence the poor state of his armour and aching hands trembling on his lap. None of it registered.

No, his gaze remained skybound, watching the Eclipse III being torn apart one piece at a time. Alliance frigattes and attack cruisers fired upon it until there was nothing left, leaving only floating debris sailing gently through space. Many who'd witnessed it likely celebrated its destruction, but not him. Not the commander of Ironside's Irregulars, whose actions had led to its destruction and Coruscant's salvation in the first place.

He was bereft of joy.

He'd held onto a sliver of hope that Tulan Kor would have found a way off the ship in time — that there remained one last escape pod they'd somehow missed. Hell, that he'd thrown himself out the airlock and gotten picked up by one of the Alliance vessels. Something. Tulan Kor couldn't die — he was just too damn stubborn.

But the palpable sorrow he now felt in his heart screamed in his ear that his oldest friend — his last brother from those glorious first few years of his military career — was no more. He was now the last member of Dorn Company, Task Force Raider. Him and Creed were the last of the old breed.

"Chief, this place ain't safe. We need to locate the others—" Creed's voice drifted in and out, only partly registered. Thirdas looked at him with bloodshot eyes, dark lines where tears had run down his dust-covered cheeks. Creed visibly recoiled, taken aback at the magnitude of his commander's grief. It was horrifying to behold someone like him breaking, he who had held firm and emboldened his men through the worst wars imaginable.

Thirdas didn't want to go on. He wanted to lie down and die so he could join the countless brothers he'd lost over the years.

But Creed wouldn't let him.

The middle-aged veteran knelt down recovered the ring that had slipped from his commander's finger, caked in layers of dirt and dust. He gave it a quick polish before presenting it to him. "Remember your oath, Thirdas," he called him by his given name for what was likely the first time. "Or Tulan's sacrifice was for naught." The sight of his betrothal ring seemed to ignite a spark of life in him. Creed placed it in his hand, closing his fist around it for him.

Looking down his side, Thirdas noted the piece of cloth tied around his upper arm. He untied it. In his hands now resided all that remained of the two people he loved the most, both seemingly lost to him. He raised the ring to his lips, kissing it before putting it back on his finger, and was then helped back on his feet.

He took one last look up at the sky, tied the bandana around his forehead, and saluted. He then turned to Creed, his staunchly loyal XO, and touched his forehead to his. Creed didn't fully grasp the significance of the gesture, but he was moved by the sudden moment of unexpected intimacy.

After collecting their gear, the quartet of Ironsides marched off, Chief Ironside being flanked by Creed, the Bothan spymaster Trek, and Rrauros the Red Dread. "Our family is scattered and divided," he finally spoke. "We need to find our brothers."

 

[Kriang Krai Ferrer]

THE HUNT

~by the mandate of the Director~

OUTFIT & EQUIPMENTS: helmet-covered face, long coat to cover the light armour, a blaster pistol, and a sedative gun
TAG: Kazian Blackwood | Ronval Rubat | Tallara | Zalia Vexhammer ​

SIA HEADQUARTERS, FONDOR, TAPANI SECTOR, COLONIES

<Come in,>

I entered the room as soon as The Director ’s disguised voice called me inside. It’s dark and eerie, his new room. Not his official office in the new Fondor HQ, just the one not a lot of people know about, and the one he spent much of his time in. No natural light, not enough artificial light, while the room itself is cluttered with book racks, gadgets, boxes of dossier, and of course, a huge terrarium where he keeps his pet Bor Gullet in. I’m not even sure how he managed to convince the higher-ups to let him keep a Bor Gullet inside of his hidden office, but knowing the Director, them letting him take the reins means they are in a really big trouble. He’s always been their red button.

The Director didn’t spend too long to cut to the chase. If he is calling me in that means he has something he wants to be done without alerting anyone in the hierarchy. He hands me a holo-pad for me to study.

Spoiler: YGGDRASIL Kitchen new recipe (TOP SECRET)

TO: Sous Chef Rusty Rubat
ATTACHMENTS: (2)
1. IMPERIAL_CHICKEN_BURGER_RECIPE
2. LINE_COOK_CV.1
3. LINE_COOK_CV.2

Please get rid of the recipe after you memorise it. Feel free to brief your line cooks anyway you seem appropriate. Our reputation relies on this.

Happy cooking chef.

Regards,
The Director

Opening the document, it pretty much is just a short description of an ISB agent believed to be spotted in the Coruscant Underworld, the suspected activity he has partaken, as well as the details about the SIA’s informant in that area. This little information might frustrate some agents, but looking at the recipient, this might also a way to test him. From what I’ve heard, the Director has only appointed a Special Operations Deputy Director after all, he’s got a lot to catch up to.

“I want you to keep an eye on the three. If there’s something off, or if they impress you. This is a very hard mission from the start, our field network are still very shaky. Should they fail, sweep in and snag the enemy for me, will you?”

Classic Strix, spying on his own agents. There’s a reason the guy survived that long in the agency.

CORUSCANT UNDERWORLD, CORUSCANT, CORUSCA SECTOR, CORE WORLDS

It smells of gutter, this city’s disgusting underworld. I’d much prefer when I was still working with the Director in his retirement, on less terrible planets. The Coruscant Underworld reeks of poor people and hopelessness, reminiscent of my old life. Yet that means this is the perfect hiding spot for the ISB agent.

I hide and lay low on a tenement’s balcony, waiting for the three SIA agents; the sous chef and two line cooks to pass the street below, so I could start tailing them to the target.

 

[Defias]

The Trooper
A Core Wars Story
TAGS: Open | Alicio Organa
​

Before the events of The Acolyte...

Ander stalked the ruins of a skyscraper with only thought in mind; one purpose in life. Survive.

He had stripped most of his wrecked stormtrooper armor, but still potentially enough to be recognized as one, and donned a discarded cape over his head. An omen bore heavy over his shoulders; fear that the Imperial military police would find him for his accessory to General Kroeger’s cold blooded murder of Lord Mor’zhul. Defeated or not, the Empire never failed to collect its debt.

The loud hum of repulsor engines approaching took his attention skyward: a shuttle bearing the marks of the Alliance’s humanitarian aid neatly descended in between the jagged edges of fallen spires and towers protruding from each side over the street. Its headlights cut through the hopeless fog of dust and debris, a beacon of salvation for the downtrodden who scampered towards it with all their remaining strength.

Ander glued himself to the wall on the corner of the alleyway he had fruitlessly scavenged and watched the ship touch the ground. His throat was as dry as Tatooine, his lungs brimmed with ash and hunger gnawed at his gut. A hundred cuts and bruises and wounds itched and burned flesh, sinew and bone.

His body and mind wailed in despair.

He had sworn that the penal service as a forced conscript in the Stormtrooper Corps would be the last prison he would ever be confined to. He could not risk his affiliation chaining him to an Alliance jail for life. But to survive Ander needed supplies, and fast.

A plan manifested quickly in his head.

The salvager laid flat on the rubble and softly covered his legs with a torn piece of permacrete, then howled for help.

Not more than a minute later, a medic rushed to his aid, kneeling before him.

“Hey, it’s ok—“ the words never fully left the medic’s lips. A large paw seized his throat as tight as a shark’s jaw, then smashed the man’s head into a pointed piece of permacrete jutting out of the debris. Hot blood spilled from the broken skull and over Ander’s fingers and wrist. He felt his breathing pace to the mad rhythm of his heart.

He had killed a man.

Mowing soldiers down from fifty feet and by the muzzle of a blaster rifle, blind by cover absolved him of guilt, of acknowledging death. But this was personal, as intimate as possible. And he had not hesitated.

The horror and sin contorting his face quickly began to subside against his own will, replaced by a surge of energy and rejuvenation. The exhilaration though could not be attested to solely adrenaline; a foreign sensation—heat—raising up in his gut. The same feeling that had miraculously guided him and General Arminius Kroeger unscathed through the suicidal advance on the Senate.

Ander shook his head—there was no time for ruminations. He reached out to the man’s vest and utility belt, yanked them free before wolfing in the rations the dead medic had carried.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi stood at the viewport of her bedroom window in her stocking feet. Outside, the smoke of a thousand little fires marred the darkening skies. Every so often, the wind changed and blew the smoke in another direction, and Natasi could see the fires down below. Small ones and big ones, some sprouting from the top of the top layer of city blocks like weeds, some roaring through great gaping holes in buildings, some raging from the wreckage of warships. Each a potential catastrophic loss of life, every loss of life being catastrophic to someone. Natasi's bones ached; it had not been an easy day, but watching the war wreak havoc on this world was painful for many reasons, not least of all the psychic toll that someone sensitive to the Force but untrained in it felt in response to the countless dead.

The wind changed again, and the jagged maw at the center of the Senate District came into view; Natasi shivered violently.

How could no one have known? The Strategic Intelligence Agency had fallen down on the job once again, but in this instance the blame couldn't be laid entirely at their feet. The Senate building was under the discretion and jurisdiction of the Senate itself; the Office of the Chancellor was ultimately responsible for the integrity of the Senate and the safety of the Senators. As far as Natasi was concerned, moving the Senate to Fondor had satisfied only one of those objectives; if the move had not been made -- if the Senate had been seated --

Natasi shivered again, closing her eyes against the image. She was not convinced of the wisdom of this kind of government. It seemed prone to abuse and it was lacking in accountability. But many of her colleagues were good and genuine people who were simply doing their best in a system that did not value their work. These would not have deserved the fate that would have awaited them if the Senate had not been moved. And when she really thought about it, the Senate had not been moved because of some direct, specific threat to the Senate structure itself, but over a generalized concern for Coruscant.

The Senate had been saved by sheer dumb luck; nothing more.

Natasi wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and wash the day from her, but she was riveted to that spot at the window. She was furious and frightened in equal measure. But she was forced to look away when the commlink on the nearby dressing table chimed. She had been trying to get through to New Sterandel for hours, but communication had been spotty, mostly reserved for military and first responder traffic. Natasi crossed the room and activated the comlink. "This is Natasi," she said.

"Mother," George Vitalis said on the other end of the line, his voice cracking with relief. "Thank God."

Natasi's anxiety eased a little and she sank onto the little stool, resting her forehead in her other hand as she held the handset to her ear. "George. You're all right, then. They didn't strike at the Republic?"

"No," George affirmed. "The Prime Minister has the Renascent Defense Legion on high alert but so far -- no. Sorry it took so long to get through, I've been trying and trying -- "

"I know," said Natasi. "Me, too. It's a mess, here, darling. I doubt whether we'll be able to -- "

" -- then I have to tell you," George cut her off. "Sorry -- mother -- Reima has been injured."

Natasi closed her eyes, scratched at her forehead idly as she processed this information. Reima was supposed to be at Fondor. "They attacked Fondor, too?"

George was hesitant. "No; she and Revenant Squadron were rotated in with the 10th. Rotated into Coruscant." Natasi's head snapped up, looking out the window. She had seen X-Wings buzzing around the place during the battle and after. Could one of them have been Reima, her daughter? Could one of those smoking wrecks out there -- "Mother, are you still with me?"

"Yes," Natasi said automatically. "Your sister -- is she -- "

"She's alive," George said. "Sorry, I should have led with that. I just -- there's no way they'll let me come to Coruscant with everything going on. But I thought you'd want to know. Maybe you can see her." George gave her all the information he had been given. The line crackled and George sighed. "Be safe, mother. I'm not ready to wear your crown."

Natasi half-smirked. "No. Nor am I, my love." She wished she could reach out and embrace her son, despite the lightyears between them. "Don't worry. I've got Dyrn here with me. He won't let anything happen to me. Listen, I'll be in touch as soon as I can. I'm going to see about your sister, all right? Tell the Prime Minister I'll be in touch."

A brief exchange of well wishes and declarations of love and mother and son disconnected. Natasi sighed softly and replaced the handset, then picked up her boots wearily and began working them on one at a time.

Her day wasn't over yet.

​

 

[Silas Westgard]

Objective: Get back to the temple safely
Tag: Valery Noble
Location: Coruscant, temple district

Upon the last slash of his saber, Silas fell to one knee.

The limbs and scattered parts of the cyborg lay in a heap on the floor, still smoking hot from the heat of the lightsaber slashing into them many times over.

His efforts were rewarded with injuries of his own, consisting of cuts and bruises, a hand that didn't look so good from the number of broken fingers and ribs that were making it hard for him to breathe. It was the price to pay when protecting lives, one which he'd do many times over if he had to. Spitting some blood to the floor, he carefully got back to his feet and finally disengaged his lightsaber. He needed to gather his energy and get back to the temple as soon as he could, who knew what else was to come?

However, as soon as he took the first pained step something else far stronger stopped him in his tracks.

A wave of depression washed over him when he felt his former master's scream of agony and sadness. He couldn't understand what was making her feel that way, but whatever it was had dug up something dark. His eyes widened in shock from what he felt, and before long that would all go away within a blink of an eye. The sudden change snapped Silas out of his shell shock stare and allowed him to compose himself, giving him time to digest what just went on.

It was hard to comprehend, but as soon as everything had calmed down there was no way he wasn't going to check on her first...
​

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret fidgeted with the commlink she had taken out of her utility belt for the fifth time in as many minutes.

// Getting a padawan offworld \\
// Mtfbwy \\

Rereading her messages now, they seemed so hollow, especially the last one. Especially if they were the last things Efret had sent her friend. Efret wasn't sure if she was relieved or worried that Valery hadn't read them as the messaging app recorded.

The soft pressure of a hand on her shoulder called her attention upward from the small display screen. A male geonosian Jedi stood above her. "Your rest period has expired, Master," he told her through a series of insectoid clicks; she watched the movement of his mandibles to understand his meaning. "You may return to the search when you wish."

The ground evacuation point she had helped set up with Magdalena Bloodscrawl had transitioned into a search and rescue center soon after news of the Dark Empire's retreat reached them. At first, it had only been a temporary base for Temple-based recovery attempts, a place on solid ground and under a relatively stable roof where Jedi and soldiers could plan their actions before executing them. It was still that, but it was also serving as overflow for the field hospital set up outside. There were a lot of survivors being pulled from the rubble with a lot yet to find, Force willing.

"Thank you," she replied before returning the communicator into its proper pocket. Her dominant hand then found the rope set beside her in a loose coil. As she pushed herself to her feet from where she sat outside of one of the makeshift tents, she grit her teeth against the soreness sliding out of her leg bones.

She closed her eyes and reached out into the confounding knot of energies running through the Temple. <Val.> Though Efret was trying to communicate with the grandmaster telepathically, what was transmitted was the images of signs rather than words. <If can see this, tell-me where you.>

BB-610 Valery Noble
OPEN TO OTHERS​

 

[Shan Pavond]

Coruscant: Objective 2

It had taken Shan a while to get back down to Coruscant. Getting trapped on a refugee shuttle had exactly been his plan for the day. He was meant to have gotten back to Zaiya and Lossa as soon as he had finished with the people who had been on the shuttle, but it had gottne too compacted. Too cramp for him to have gotten out before the shuttle had set off. Then he had felt like it was up to him to take care of the refugees in the shuttle until they landed, but now? He had managed to get back down to the planet, covering in soot, sweat and blood that he didn't even know who it belonged to. He was sure that none of it was, but that didn't help to ease his worries. He had to remind himself to breathe. Focus through the fear.

He should probably have told someone that he was safe. That he was back on the planet but there were people who needed aid. That was more important than him checking in with anyone. Shan just had to reassure himself that Zaiya was safe. He didn't know what everyone else had been doing during the battle, but Shan just had to keep assuming that they'd be safe. Cora, Ko, Braze, Valery, Kahlil, Colette...Okay. That was a long list. Maybe it was better for him not to even think about it. Keep moving forward. Don't let himself stop. That was his main focus. Help the people around him and then when they were safe, then he could take a moment to think to himself. Until then though? It was time for Shan to get to work. He still had a few supplies left in his medical kit, and he had his crystal by his side. Even without those, he'd probably still keep at it until he passed out.

Rushing off into the smoke and dust, to try and find whoever he could. If only there was more earthen ground...Then he could use the Force to dump it onto some of the fires around him. For now, it was just going to be a matter of using the Force to try and shield himself from the heat as he moved past them. There wasn't anyone who needed rescuing from the flames, so Shan thought it was best to leave those who were more well equipped to fighting fires to well...fight the fires. Duh.

 

[Torn Eskol]

​

SIA SPECDIV
AGENT ESKOL

CORUSCANT UNDERWORLD
​

Torn was a man of a lot things.

Patience wasn't one of them. So, the man he had tied up by his ankles, hoisted to the ceiling, his hands tied behind his back- well.

He was running out of it.

"I swear, that's all I did, I just helped some troopers get off plan-"

Torn sighed, pushing him again, letting the man swing back and forth. He pulled the chair up to him, grabbing him by the neck as he swang back towards Torn. Torn's eyes narrowed behind his balaclava.

"I don't give a damn about Stormtroopers getting off planet. I don't care about conscripts and neither do you. You helped some Officers, maybe some Sith, didn't you?"

The man was choking and couldn't respond. Torn put a stern finger up to his face, leaning his head down, like a disappointed teacher.

"You keep lying to me and I am going to shoot you in the stomach and let you bleed out on this dirty warehouse floor, son."

He let go, the man choking and gasping for air, pleading for several seconds before nodding.

"There were a couple of Sith and some officers and stuff- they, they are going for a transport. It's- it's bringing in building materials from off-world and they're gonna catch it when it leaves Coruscant. All the details are in my apartment, I swear. I swear that's it- please, please-"

He rapidly looked around, before Torn stood up, nodding his head. He knew where the man's apartment was. He knew where the intel was. He just needed the last piece of the puzzle. Out of the three dozen ships that the man had contacted, it wasn't clear which one the Sith were able to get aboard or bribe their way onto. Torn now could cross-reference all the intelligence together, and narrow it down to almost 40 ships, down to probably about 1 or 2.

Much better chances.

Grounding all the ships wasn't an option- the Alliance was too stretched thin at the moment. That, and it would alert the Sith that were trying to escape that they were being tracked. No, Torn had a better plan.

Torn took a deep breath, checking his watch. Two hours to their scheduled departure. Enough time.

"Thanks."

Torn walked behind him while he wiggled and screamed, pulled out his suppressed slugthrower, and shot him three times in the back of the head.

Torn had a lot of work to do, and not a whole lot of time to do it.

Just another day at the Office.

​