Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

[Surea]

Without the Force, she was as good as dead. Surea's crumbling hand faded further into dust as she continued to reach up. For something, anything. The Force, the Dark. Her Rot. Anything that made her who she was, she needed to find it. Anything that made her who she was. Anything that made her more than the nothing she felt.

And yet, all she found was nothing. What was left of her arm collapsed beside her, and all she could manage was a chocked sob.

This was it. In the end, she was nothing. All there was was nothing. Everything she'd done. Had she even been able to take anyone with her? Why was she even fighting? Her Master had long abandoned her. The Maw had long abandoned her. Maybe through death she could've proven herself worth something.

Then, warmth. Her head turned, facing towards Amani as the rest of her body finally started to fade to dust, and she smiled. At least in death she wasn't alone. Then she was gone.

Amani Serys

 

[Cordé Sabo]

______________________________________________________________
D U L C E T
TASK FORCE NULL | EXEGOL | SUBTERRANIAN STATION
______________________________________________________________
​

The empty space was very full. All of its fullness wrapped around Cordé like a fractured mass, pulsing, contracting, rippling, and it was beautiful. Nothing prosaic or common about it; it was more articulate than anything from The Maw. It surged out, blinding and bleeding and thick and layered and absorbing. It so overwhelmed her ability to comprehend shapes that she hardly recognized it for what it was — a version of Solipsis and Mori’s visions to wipe out the galaxy, but digitised. Its message, its code of change, of recalibrations and adjustments of transformations and eventual destruction.

She’d abdicated her consciousness to delve into a world that was not fully part of Exegol, and at the same time, was deeply connected. The decision had felt obvious — four, at least, had died to get her here. Thousands more could suffer a similar end if she didn’t at least try.

And she was so good at running away from anything to do with Sion that tossing her mind to the digital ether came with no

second thought.

Now, that mind was entangled so intimately with that which did exist. It wrapped tighter and tighter around the tiny space she occupied, taking more and more until less and less of that which she was remained in the timeless cocoon. The longer she felt subdued by it, the less comprehensible it became. It was like sound, reacting to her movements, arguing with her while she tried, tried, tried to continue disabling it’s viruslike attack and command. The noise was like a crescendo of ice, or ice crystals shatting to form an unearthly noise.

From some far off place, another sound infused its way through the struggle:

Cordé... what are you doing? We have to go.

Adrift and dislocated, her mind scrambled and reached and reached for the sound of something that wasn’t the chittering of code. It was more than a sound, it was a deep, deep irrevocable feeling that unfolded slowly and stretched against the cocoon.

Within the program, the medic-forced-to-be-slicer was vaguely aware of the all-consuming context of her mission. She was aware of her body, the skin, the sinew, the curl of her gut. She was aware of the nerves that were firing in her brain as she became aware of the nerves firing in her brain. All the bacteria on her skin, and in her blood, the virii in her tissues. And how much it all felt like ash and blackened char.

She could feel something, air, moving through her throat and into the complex network of soft caverns behind her ribs. It was a strange and burning sensation. In the real world, through the thick, thick smoke, she gagged. Her lungs seized, a stabbing pain that throbbed against aching ribs.

It was the first pain she realised. The next was the otherworldly heat rolling over her and blistering her skin. Her throat felt shrivelled, useless, airless. Searing agony consumed every attempt at conscious thought, only primal fear existed now, and she tried to withdraw, to uncurl herself from the grasp of the code and back into reality, there had been a reality. But against the raw torching sensation that scathed and put coals in her throat, there was nothing safe for her brain to want to retreat to. Nothing but that voice, that feeling.

Part of her willed that voice, that feeling, closer, that last grasp of consciousness. That whole awareness tainted in regret and clung to the hopeful shape of what if? It was more solid than the virtual sensations that threatened to eclipse her entirely. That sad hope was so familiar that it was comforting enough to feel magnetic. Like the outline of memories left behind that asked her to chase them again, to draw back out of the collapse of the program and —

— still breathless, her skeleton-covered fingers barely managed to pull the visor pierced into the skin above her temples. Her eyes opened to searing flames that burned her sclera and black smoke that forced her to choke.

She felt him more than she saw him, if that was possible. Was it possible? Was it her imagination? Her head was pounding, lungs failing, skin burning. Fire licked up around her, starved for the oxygen she stole with her final breaths.

“Si—”

On rubbery legs, she did not rise.

"You came back for me." The last of her breath spread like wings fluttering avidly through her chest. It was a feeling so immense it spread and spread, beating and flapping into a beautiful ache.

______________________________________________________________

F O E S | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW |
F R I E N D S | GA | NJO | SIA | Sion Lorray
______________________________________________________________​

 

[Sofiel]

"...You came for me,"

"Yes."

It was stated in the typical Sofiel way. Like a fact, without emotion. With the simple smile on her face. The only difference was her eyes. Emotion. Relief, at the core, among others that she rather brazenly didn't seem to notice or think about. Right now it didn't matter. She moved, sat up. As best she could she sat up, anyway. Shrapnel had quite the effect on her body, she learned. Had she more thought in the matter, she would've used Tartys.

She should've. The conversation between X3 and Temerant went over her head for the most part. She was in her thoughts. Making sense of them.

Trying to, anyway.

"How're you holding up?"

Sofiel blinked. Then, for once, frowned.

"Fine. Let's get you in the bacta tank already."

Darth Temerant

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Wearing: Armored Jumpsuit, Synthweave Tunic, Utility Belt, Appearance
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Exegol, Frieghter
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren , Cybelle Sal-Soren , Velda Nar-Donna , Darth Wallgof , Darth Temerant , Escape Jara

"Bri...haul ass...we got it...and we gotta go,"

Briana’s head whipped back in the direction she’d come from, an alarm sounding off and rising in pitch as it sang out with the warning to evacuate. “I’m on my way,” She replied, releasing the switch on her communicator. She didn’t need to be told twice.

Looking back to the console in front of her and using the Force, the young woman jammed the control yolk, ensuring that the ship remained on a course that, with any luck, would bring the freighter colliding into the shipyards below.

It was the logical course, ensuring that the other ships from the Mawites arsenal never made it off the ground. Keep their rhetoric from spreading out to other worlds where they could regroup and eventually march through the galaxy on a newly formed tidal wave of terror. It was an opportunity she couldn’t waste.

Briefly her eyes glanced to the viewport and before stepping away, Briana contemplated the scene before her, startled at her own feelings of detachment as the ship went hurtling through Exegol's atmosphere - watching on as several pods launched from the ship in a desperate bid to escape the fate that awaited them, only to spiral out of control as the Wall of Light painted them in a brief splash of pure Force energy.

Her breathing hitched momentarily, as if realizing for the first time the sheer scale of destruction around her - taking her back to that fateful day on Naboo when the Cataclysm hit. It was a multifaceted, complex feeling, hitting her like a ton of bricks. Had it not been for the very real threat of death, Briana might have stayed to try and unravel the prick against her own conscience.

As it was, time was limited and running out quickly.

Packing away the unease to the back of her mind and shaking her head, Briana refocused her attention on the role she had to play; a skill she’d learned early on in the war to compartmentalize such intrusive thoughts under the guidance of Valery Noble . A feat that was much easier now than it was in the past.

Closing off her thoughts, Briana slipped out from the control room. Exhausted, she once more opened herself completely to the Force, drawing from the wellspring of light and pressing it into her tired legs, dashing and stumbling her way through the various corridors and elevators, until she was back to where they’d first started.

Like her companions, she was battered and filthy, lines of crimson ovals staining where she’d been splattered by the Sithspawns blood, well aware of the sweat that glistened on her skin. “You two good?” she asked, eyes darting between Brandyn and Cybelle. She didn’t need her abilities in the Force to see that they’d each been through something harrowing. Cybelle looked pale, and there was an intensity surrounding her… a different feeling about her presence. It wasn’t the time to dwell on it. “Hurry and board,” she followed quickly, aware of a roar of blasts coming from the other side of the vessel, realizing the sound of outraged Mawites coming towards them “let’s get the project back to the Jedi Temple like planned.”

Once Cybelle and Brandyn were onboard, Briana followed, moving to the flight deck and inserting herself into the pilots seat, quickly working to bring everything online, the whirring engines soon charged and giving themselves power. “One of you get the coordinates put in and I need the other to make sure the deflector shields are primed and ready to go while I prep the hyperdrive engine.”

Mere moments passed, the engine clicking into full gear. “Everyone hold on!” she called, the ship ripping from the docking clamp with such velocity that it pushed her back in her seat. From behind, a small series of ships fell in line behind her, spurting green lasers behind them. “I’m going to attempt to make the jump from within orbit,” A feat she'd never attempted, but under the circumstances, seemed warranted.

Not wanting to wait and hear any of the arguments or protests that’d follow that decision, she pulled a lever forward.

If there was ever a sensation of gut wrenching pain, it followed that decision.

The sky around them folded in on itself and the storming battles of the planet morphed into star lines before them, throwing Cybelle, Brandyn, and the ship they were aboard, into hyperspace.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Location: Forbidden district outskirts, Exegol
Objective: Eliminate the maw
Tag: Amanda braska | Jand Talo |

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise."- Victor Hugo​

He heard the voice again.

The voice in his head.

The unnamed Sith with past knowledge of him.

~As devastating as ever! I am still impressed by you sometimes.~

Caltin instinctively wanted to look around, but knew that the distraction would open attackers to come at him with his attention elsewhere. It also seemed that this individual knew what he was thinking. Or at least knew how he would act in this theater.

~I’m on the planet, Caltin, and yes, I can see you, but that is because of armor cams on the troopers you have demolished. I am nowhere near you right now.~

~I’ll bet.~

~Oh, how I have missed your “always on your guard” paranoia. You do not have to believe me, “Master Vanagor”, but I assure you that we are not destined to face each other today. I promised your daughter I would reveal myself to you when I told her that you were still alive.~

Those words stopped the big man in his tracks, long enough for a Sith Lord to throw the husk of a fallen starfighter at him.

~Do.not.mention.my.daughter.~

~Oh, you mean Alyscia? We knew each other quite well. You know this… or at least you knew this. She never stopped looking for you, even her children helped look for you.~

The words were distracting enough for the Sith Lord facing Caltin to be able to catch him with a powerful shot of Force Lightning. Normally this would be stopped by the massive Jedi Master, but his attention was caught hard. It was not until Vanagor focused his attention onto the Sith in front of him.

~Take him down, Caltin, I’ll wait.~

~How gracious of you.~

The voice in his head did indeed remain silent as Caltin faced down the Dark Lord in front of him. It was the opening that allowed him to push the Sith in front of him away via the Force that allowed the big man to go to work. He then charged, but feigned a leap overhead and behind but leaped high into the air, bringing down the full Force(pun intended) of his fist into the ground. The resulting shockwave sent the Sith Lord staggering back several steps…

~You’d think that others would look out for that? It’s not like you hide it.~

Caltin actually agreed with him.

~Right?~

When the Sith Lord in front of him attacked, it was too late. His slash was as picturesque as it was deadly, but he was felled by Vanagor who ducked low, threw a massive uppercut and followed it with an upwards diagonal slash. Collecting the Sith’s blade he shook his head.

~He was weak, do not second guess yourself. You have more important things to do, like figure out who I am.~

~You’re not the only one who has learned a few things. I can sense exactly where you are now. Like a positioning system. So I don’t need to think about who you are, I’ll just come to you.~

Could he really do this? Maybe. Truth is, he didn’t know, but it sounded good, and the silence in his head for the moment told him that his little ploy worked. He got in the foe’s head, at least for the moment and allowed the massive Jedi Master to make his way further into the Forbidden District, but not before intensifying the storm.

~Are you coming?~

~Not only am I coming, I’m bringing the storm.~

 

[Amani Serys]

Surea | Strike Team Windu​

It was the sob Amani heard that made a tear stain her cheek. The Sith, broken and defeated, realizing what all her efforts amounted to. Only at the end of it all did she realize how fruitless her crusade had been. It almost didn't seem fair. What might they have accomplished had she split off onto a new path? What could they have done together? Heal, cure, save lives. Now, it wouldn't matter. But at least Surea had that revelation, even if it came all too late.

Amani watched as her Light washed over her longtime foe. Blanketed her in its warmth. And she saw it through the glow: a smile. Amani gave one in return. It was a melancholic smile, but a reassuring one. Reassuring Surea that in the end, when all others had left her behind, Amani would stay. No one should die alone. Even she deserved that semblance of peace.

And then, after all their battles, after all their struggles against the backdrop some of the most climactic events in the Second Great Hyperspace War, just like that…

Surea was gone.

Amani's breath hitched, and she let her hand drop. She didn't know what would be there for Surea on the other side, but she sincerely hoped it was better than what life had dealt her. She couldn't help but wonder if she would have ended in the same spot, if she had let her own anger blind her all those years ago. Let the darkness corrupt and twist her into something she wasn't.

Never again. Amani had too much to live for. She had love, happiness, friendship. She would carry on.

The mirialan looked up to sky, where the radiance only continued to grow. This fight was over. Now it was time to rejoin her allies, lend her remaining strength to the Wall of Light. And it was time to get the hell out of here.

 

[Henna Ashina]

their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before
SHIELD OF TYTHON
PROSPERITY, ABOVE EXEGOL | CIRCLE OF SEERS | SUPPORT
Allies: GA | Asmundr Varobalder | Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble | Arage Bao | Cynthia Alucard | @NJO Jedi
Enemies: BOTM | NIO | OPEN​

Somewhere, beyond space and time, tears fell. A million eyes lent her their vision momentarily to see the seer for all he was. Prophet, protector, pillar. The hammer which forged the sword. The hands that shaped the shield. The guardian of their order, always watching, observant; that knowledge let him give and give again, and quietly, he had become the backbone as well, amongst the oldest and most treasured.

This tribulation, and what we see is temporary. The words were quiet, even in his spectral voice. Silken and soft. But what is unseen is eternal.

The gaze not only offered the truth of his words - they were the very essence. The eternal watchman was not one, but a collective of many, duty passed on generation by generation. Not an end. Metamorphosis. One more pair of eyes would be added to the line, and his watch would continue.

A seer’s duty is made easier with many eyes.

I understand. The master pushed the grief from her voice, muscles bracing. You will not go it alone... and it will never be forgotten.

The seer opened her eyes to the world below, expanding Asmundr's sight. Another pair of eyes amongst the wall. Another horn in the night. She raised it up, a war cry against the manifestation of pure darkness on the surface. It would call their Jedi home. Strays would be seen, wrapped up, brought into the fold. Henna offered her vision to her fading friend.

BATTLE MELD SURGING​

 

[Vilu Kopma]

THE EMPIRE | EXEGOL | CITADEL | ATRIUM
PHASE 4: ANNIHILATION

​

There was no automated lighting. Either an intentional precaution, or a negligence, Vilu could only see when the lights from either side of her helmet lit the way for her. Row after row of very-obvious Mawite prototypes. Things that would have been refined and smooth (the Imperials loved their symmetry) were gnarled and almost barbaric looking. Even if it was something that could be wielded with just one hand.

“Yeah, this is some freaky chit. Cool freaky chit, but still freaky chit.”

Vilu touched as much as she could, because she’d never seen it before and it was unlikely she’d ever see it again if this business on Exegol was all it meant to be.

Most of it was hideous, and even her imagination had limits with some of the bladey-scoopy-shaped stuff. What would that even be useful for?

“Why?” She heard herself ask, and leaned in to investigate it deeper before deciding she didn’t care and it was a waste of precious time. Especially with the ground starting to split around the seams.

The stairs they’d descended were starting to…hum? And..glow? Red.

“That ain’t good.”

Her decision-making was rushed, but she lifted something portable from one of the racks, weighed it, and decided it was good enough.

“You findin’ what you’re lookin for? Time’s tickin’”

Max laughs and nods. "Yeah, I got what I need alright. Go deal with your colleagues, I will see what I can do about that crystal, double back to the hangars after?"

"You got it, stud." This was turning out pretty great.

Funny thing, betrayal. The holovids always made it seem so much more difficult than Vilu was finding it. She considered this while holstering the newfound prototype to her thigh, and making her way back up the stairs. She was already profiting.

Her colleagues..

Tallies was nowhere to be seen. Castian hadn’t comm’d yet. She frowned, and opened up the display on her HUD that connected to all the tracking devices their company had. They’d implemented them after Zeta-09.
Castian was nearby! And on the mark. Attaboy. Of course he was. Vilu’s heart leapt with the excitement that came with the thrill of the chase — maybe she’d even manage to negotiate a little cut for him. At least get him a ride off this quickly crumbling planet. The surge of enthusiasm was a giddy lushness she hadn’t felt in…

..a long time.

With the Empire crumbling around them, the future had felt bleak. But now! They had the chance for a new opportunity, a fresh start, a renewed ——

— “Castian!” Her run for him stopped just a few feet behind the exchange of that which she would never expect. Her feet became lead, and her heart plummeted to the floor.

"Like I said. ...cages and worse."

“..Castian..” A wave of disorientation washed through her. Her mind had no answers. It was limp and dulled, useless as all those years wasted, invested, in what she’d thought was an honest, true, and pure friendship.

How had he kept The Force from her?

How dare he keep The Force from her?

Her hand moved to remove her helmet, so he could see the devastation that broke her face.

Her chest rose and fell with a deep rasping sound, wide-eyed and wordless for several beats until her nerves could no longer withstand the charged silence.

“What, from the bottom of my heart,” She started, feigning a crispness to her voice that she did not feel. “The kark.” Her thoughts were following up on themselves, condemning him, questioning him, and fast-falling into the realm of unrestrained feeling. Hurt. Betrayal.

Before she could say anything further, expose the thousand humiliating things of her heart, all the proofs of her devotion, all the words whispered and promised in the most desperate of times, all the exposure that came with grunting through the mud and experiencing death a hundred times over, the love that came with a friendship that stretched through all the vulnerabilities and trust, she was on him; that new Maw prototype tested out on the friend she’d held dearest.

---

ALLIES | THE EMPIRE | ASHLAN CRUSADE | Maximilian Baize
FOES | THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE | THE NEW JEDI ORDER | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Castian Vero

​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE WARDEN
LIGHTPOINT STATION || MEDITATION SPHERE
PHASE IV: ANNIHILATION || BATTLEMELD TRANSFERRED TO Henna Ashina

​

THERE IS NO EMOTION, THERE IS PEACE | Cybelle Sal-Soren
"Trust The Force." He murmured, wincing through the tension that came with unbearable pain. The agony of standing on the edge of death. Even with Jedi Knight Cybelle's sacrifice, and tenuous hold on the web of life that kept them connected, there was no hatred, and there was no jadedness to be found. In that resolve, that peace, Asmundr found the parallel which he would bolster, which he would emphasize, a shared discovery with Jem in the depths of her father's throne room…

THERE IS NO IGNORANCE, THERE IS KNOWLEDGE | Jem Fossk | Amani Serys | Jand Talo | Corazona von Ascania
…A love that Cybelle felt with her friends and a love that Jem felt from the profound connection to all the Jedi. Love brought her knowledge, a newfound discovery of the world she'd been closing out. Protecting herself from. And all that came with genuine love: Long-suffering, patience, kindness, joy.

Even with the most challenging decisions, those that came with having to end a life, there was peace in knowing that The Force could be trusted. Asmundr felt the edges of remorse colouring the thread that connected him to his fellow council member and reframed it with the reassurance of the code they'd dedicated themselves to.

And to the Padawans, the knowledge that the trials of darkness were temporary and that darkness could not exist without light. Light, light, light, could shine bright and live without casting shadows.

THERE IS NO PASSION, THERE IS SERENITY | Caltin Vanagor | Michael Barran | Sahar | Aoki-Barran Mira
As Caltin's power grew, so did the risk of imbalance. There was something that Asmundr couldn't entirely decipher but recognized as something that could be goading and lustfully goading. A Jedi Master as venerable as Vanago was unlikely to need reassurance, but Asmundr sent a pulsing node through the battlemelds regardless. Everyone needed a reminder, especially on a planet as jaded as Exegol.

Even to those who opposed his order, he sent a peaceful reminder because they were not so entirely lost. Misguided and imbalanced perhaps, but their hearts could not be judged by him; only their minds could benefit from the brush of his appeal to the ancient Jedi Code.

THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY | Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble | Zark San Tekka | Henna Ashina | Auteme
Unmentionable stress burgeoned through the two-way connection. It pulsed from the planet to him, like a fast-spreading poison, and shook him to his core. He collapsed in a gasp, hunched on his forearms and clutched his chest. All that misery manifested as deep, hurting heartache and feverish sweat.

A message about the world's collapse had escalated the baseline of concern and urgency that all those below operated on. That darkness he felt, that Valery felt, that Kahlil felt, that Henna felt, expounded it tenfold.

The fear of loss was thick. The same loss he'd felt countless battles before, on Korriban, Dantooine, Krayiss, Ziost, Bastion, Tython, Empress Teta, years and years and years of feeling vacant deprivation. Loss of friends, to war. Loss of sleep, to stress. Loss of laughter, to grief. Loss of confidence, to mistakes. Loss of control, to darkness...

Many losses did not belong to him, but he felt them through the rolling tides of their shared ocean. And through all of these losses, the greatest was that which came from knowledge and from the deep recognition that he could never un-know what he knew. So many things he wished he'd never learned, never seen, never felt. He had aged with the great weight of this knowledge. It was heavy, carving deep lines in his face, burdensome on his broad shoulders and affecting the broken posture he emulated now in his trancelike state.

Knowledge brought benefits too, of course. Perspective, a framework in which to fit the events of his life, all their lives –– that is, a lattice of space and time coordinates spanning his existence, their existences, back to the earliest memories (better if they were all shared or had some thread of commonality) and ahead, far beyond, to alternate futures. A framework of depths, conundrums, and interstices through which Asmundr could peer at any new event in his life with perspective. A lattice of shadows and corners, rolling back into the vanishing point on the horizon of his mind. And all these shadow boxes that leant such perspective to the darkness that permeated from below. It was darker than anything he'd ever felt, more than he'd prepared for. Even knowing the treachery Exegol was capable of.

There were other advantages to knowledge: Rationality, etiquette, and choice.

Choice, of them all, was an authentic double-edged sword.

A choice equipped with all that perspective, all that knowledge.

Soundlessly he uttered a whisper of pleading supplication to the infinitely patient stars, to the Seers of the past.

They're giving, all of them, so much. So much. He whispered to ancient ears. I need to give them more. To offer all that they require. Keep them safe, connected, and unencumbered by the plagues of darkness, despair and hurt. No more hurt. Please.

Please.

He felt himself flicker. The strength of his sight waned. Understanding shifted behind his ribs, and his head drooped. Eyes closed. Even as he spoke, he felt his words twist away into the threads of the web that connected them all, travelling to the ears that would hear, and, more importantly, the eyes that would see and have seen.

I understand.

"You do." His voice, still strong through their connection, sounded equally glad and soft, almost wet as if he were tearful. "And more, you are ready."

In a moment of stolen tranquillity, Asmundr settled into the fulfilment that came with Master Sarrat's growth; The Warden of Tython ascended to The Warden of all. The Priestess conjured and understood visions and impacts of the future with a perception sharper than any blade. A sight that would guide those in his heart.

He closed his eyes to squeeze out the rivulets of pride and reinforced the passing on of their sacred duty: "Guide them."

"Look to the Force, and you will always find me."

And Asmundr looked. He looked and focused his sights on the promised unseen, the assurance of all that was everlasting. Through his tears of acceptance, he broke into a toothsome grin. Bright, white and happy, his eyes, heart, and soul smiled all at once at that which had yet to be revealed.

As a mark of his life lived, his final gesture was to reach out. The broadness of his palm stretched out into the patterns of the Empyrean as it reached back for him and welcomed The Warden within its complex patterns.

He closed his eyes and let go.

THERE IS NO DEATH. THERE IS THE FORCE. ​

---

ALLIES | THE NEW JEDI ORDER | THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE | CIRCLE OF SEERS |
FOES | THE DARKSIDE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | THE AVATARS

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

Sion only had eyes for the crumbled form of Cordé.

Until the super-heated atmosphere was drawn into his lungs with the next breath taken. He clutched his throat and eyes widened as suddenly the scene became more clear to him. The room lit by the cracks in the walls. Liquid fire spilled out and scorched the metal as it was drawn down to the floor. It was too much and Sion fell to one knee.

"You came back for me."

Even then, in the pain, that made him smile a hurt grimace.

"It doesn't matter what happens, Cordé." He mutters, half through the Force, and half through pained breath. "I will always come back for you."

As much encouragement to himself as it was to reaffirm the feelings that Sion still had for Cordé. He grunted as the lava spilled out on the floor proper now. Somehow... it didn't scare him. No, instead it looked rather beautiful. For a moment he was distracted. Then Cordé whimpered out in pain once more and Sion shook his head.

New power flowed from somewhere into him.

It was the same sensation he had received weeks ago on Selvaris with Osarla Ridor and Enyo Typhos . A sense of rightness. Of things aligning just perfectly for him as Sion rose up.

"I am here..." And his hands reached out just as his eyes closed. He could still see the inferno. In the darkness of his mind-eye it lit up and Sion received understanding. Fire, in all its elements, was nurture. It was fuel. It was life-force. But most importantly... it was all connected. Burning fire on Exegol burned just as bright and veracious as fire on Tython.

When you touched one flame.

You touched all.

Sion's eyes snapped open and his hands clapped together. Time slowed and Sion smiled brilliantly. He felt better now than he had ever before. The lava began to withdraw, as if chastised by an annoyed owner, and the heat seeped out of the air. Sion took a step forward and then another and soon before long he was flowing to Cordé's side.

His hand sliding under her head and cupping her there.

"You are okay, I have you." His other hand settling on her shoulder. "Can I? You need healing." Murmured oh so gentle while bright burning amber eyes looked down on her.

 

[Castian Vero]

Vilu Kopma

"I need to-" Before he could finish that thought to Ishida Ashina , Vilu was on the scene.

“Castian!”

Cass blinked and froze up. Had she seen? Surely not. He let go of Ishida on time, across the divide, and safe. All of them were still safe. He turned around just as Vilu murmured his name again. Now... hurt, wounded, and Cass tried to smile to patch her wound. It came out as a wound, gaping and bloody, it felt like torture.

"Vilu-"

She was on him in a moment's notice.

Didn't have time to react, but truth to be told Cass wasn't going to react regardless. Even with all the time in the world the sergeant spread his arms as if to welcome Vilu into his embrace. Then something slammed into the carapace of his body-armor and the underlining beneath. It punctured and pierced and ran him through.

The pain was immediate, but the cry choked in his throat because all Cass had attention for was the betrayal in Vilu's eyes.

He cupped her jaw.

"I wanted to. I am sorry." And then Cass looked past Vilu. "She is a Jedi, she will destroy you. Run, now."

With the last morsels of strength - rapidly fading from his body - he extended his arm again and yanked at the ceiling. Causing a partial collapse as the individual bricks were pulled down. It divided Ishida on the one side. And the two traitors on the other. Ishida would have to pick. Crystal or bringing the stormtroopers to rest.

"There... time... for you... to... to-" Brows furrow there.

Why was Cass so cold?

"I am cold... Vilu?"

 

[Ilarra Nica]

___________________________________________________________________
FLAME WHISPERER
NOT EXEGOL || UNKNOWN
_____________________________________________________________
​

It was just a candle on the table, flickering lazily between them as it had for hours. Wax dripped steadily down the taper.

Ilarra's knuckles folded against her jaw, and she moved the little horse-shaped piece across squares like an upside down L. This game was so slow. Everything in life, for years, had just felt so slow. So full of anticipation. Like a hunt that was being planned, and planned, and planned, and planned, but the prey was still uncertain.

"Check." She lifted her fingers from the shape of the token, as were the rules, and stretched her arms above her head. A tension through her shoulders eased, and she shuddered at the release, then slid her hands beneath her chin to support the sneering smile that spread across her face at her opponent. The flames always had a way of making her look just a bit more menacing.

"I think, If you move just —" Her voice was a silken murmur, taunting rather than coaching, and floating her hand above the board to gesture the potential. Her fingers were long, elegant, and narrow, like the rest of her. A vessel The Goddess would be proud of, indeed.

Something shuddered.

Nothing tangible. Nothing noticeable. Only something someone who had been primed to hunt since the dawn of consciousness would be aware of. Her pulse struck in her throat, and she didn't finish her jeer. Instead, amber eyes widened, her mouth parted open slightly, and she went rigid.

"By Vahl.."

The steady flame on the narrow wick lengthened, incandescent and shone impossibly brightly before extinguishing. A brilliance that was mirrored in Ilarra's eyes.

"It's true."

And in her lifetime! What a blessing.

____________________________________________________________
ALLIES | EMBERS OF THE FLAME | Belfry of Tund
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Riordan Catlow]

Damsy Callat

His finger raised to make that exact point.

Then it was guiltily put down again.

A sigh replaced it in short order as he stared at the floor. As if a good stare could puncture it and their problems in one good shot. This was not the case, but it did give him some time to ponder. "You have a fascinating code, Damsy. I can't say I much identify with it." Thoughtful tone now as he began to rummage with his utility belt.

"But I believe Sith could stand with some more rigorous adherence to a code. Maybe they'd be less of a messy bunch that way."

That was almost a compliment.

You have to start somewhere.

From out the belt came a cannister. "Knock-out gas. It isn't strong enough to put down even a single Sithspawn. But it should slow them down. I will go down there myself and lead them out of the cage." A gentle shrug there. "I am not a Sithspawn, not even adjacent, so it should be okay for me. You wait for us at the entrance?"

He smiled thinly there with just enough irony laced in.

"I am sure you will hear us coming." Even slowed down it would be a rampage of maws, talons and worse chasing him.

Unless Damsy provided aggressive counter-points the cannister was chucked into a hole made quickly by way of a lightsaber. He put on his respirator and inclined his head to Damsy.

"I will make detailed notes, do not worry."

...and was gone through the hole next.

 

[Belfry of Tund]

Ilarra Nica

"You let your anticipation cloud your judgement, Ilarra." Belfry murmured in a clipped tone. Even still, he didn't see an immediate out here either, which was a bit sad. It would be disastrous if she actually won this match. Sure, he was happy to have discovered the other side of his heritage within her and the other Vahla in this procession.

It didn't mean he wanted to give up this match however.

Just as his hand reached out to break the check lock Ilarra froze up. "Ila?" Brows furrowed as he watched her with a bit of concern, before his eyes were drawn to the flame her eyes were so transfixed to.

Hm.

Bells blinked and suddenly he was elsewhere. Hot, scorching, the scene of a boy standing tall for the first time in his short life. It was his eyes that drew him most. They were molten. They were fire. They encompassed the entirety of the socket and dripped flames down his cheeks. In here Belfry saw incarnated fire streaming through veins and creating a river of heat.

Another blink.

Belfry was back where he had started. He finished the gesture.

"Check-mate." But where Belfry would have received pleasure from being victorious... now it was replaced with a sense of... something else. "What was that, Ila? Who was that boy?"

 

[Vilu Kopma]

THE EMPIRE | EXEGOL | CITADEL | ATRIUM
PHASE 4: ANNIHILATION

​

At his touch, her jaw clenched and she yanked back angrily. But she still held him, helped slope him down to the ground to ease the transition.

"I am cold... Vilu?"

Her heart split apart like the ceiling overhead. The stones crumbled as did her resolve. His face looked so confused. Usually full of vitality and expression, the warmth was slipping away with his consciousness.

Through the fabric of her gloves, she could feel the warmth of his blood pooling from the fragile space between her blade and his skin.

Had she acted out of duty? Were her actions so clinical? Commandeering an individual who wielded The Force for the benefit of The Imperial Knights? Was that all she was, acting out of orders?

No, it had been something else. Something unchecked.

"But you didn't." She sneered, donning the conviction that had threatened to fade away. "You could have," her voice slipped into a whisper, falling on deafening ears as he faded from the conscious world. "You could have, and I would have protected you but...but after everything, you didn't." Her voice was shriller than she would have liked, thinner, with less bravado than her usual speech, but it was the best she could muster.

"You stupid, stupid, son of a schutta.." She inhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, and let the breath out. By now, Castian was fully unconscious and limp in her arms. Heavy and a deadweight. A deadweight, but not dead.

Before she attempted to move Castian, or do anything else, Vilu double-checked the makeshift wall that had fallen between them and the Jedi Castian had been concerned about. After a few beats, it seemed the little white haired mongrel wasn't going to be launching over the top anytime soon. Good in the sense that she'd be safe from a Jedi. Not good because that meant she...she had to decide what to do with the Force-User in her hands.

Her head was swimming, as if she was just realizing that she'd stabbed him.

---

ALLIES | THE EMPIRE | ASHLAN CRUSADE | Maximilian Baize
FOES | THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE | THE NEW JEDI ORDER | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Castian Vero

​

 

[Ilarra Nica]

___________________________________________________________________
FLAME WHISPERER
NOT EXEGOL || UNKNOWN
_____________________________________________________________
​

As far as Ilarra was concerned, the match was over. She'd found her king.

"You saw too." If she had any reservations about her beliefs, they were gone with the confirmation that came from across the table. A shared vision, a touch so deep that two with lineage could not miss it... Her grin grew into something that looked famished, cracking at the edges and reaching her gleaming eyes.

She was so enthusiastic about this discovery that her hands snapped across their board, spattering the little players to the side and wrapping her fingers around Belfry's pale hands. "Tell me what you saw.

It's Him. The him. " Her whisper was thick with conviction and she stood from the table, plucking the candle from its stand as she rose, and stood near the carved out stone fireplace. For a moment she stared at the stack of unlit logs. Then she dropped the candle into the pile unceremoniously, and extended a hand. The little flame leapt excitedly from the wick to the dry edges of bark, hungrily consuming the furry kindling and snapping into something larger and visual.

"But where..."

____________________________________________________________
ALLIES | EMBERS OF THE FLAME | Belfry of Tund
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Maximilian Baize]

Vilu Kopma

It proved to be impossible to carry the entire crystal with him.

Sadly.

Not with the way the facility was being rend from the inside out. This was fine. He didn't need the entire crystal. All that Max had to be sure of was that nobody else could use it. So while the drama with Vilu Kopma , Castian Vero and Ishida Ashina played out, Max did what he did best. Cause a whole lot of trouble for everyone.

The crystal was smashed and shattered.

Then he collected about half the shards into a container.

The other half was spread out over the floor.

Let them try to make use of that. Max didn't think that was likely. By the time he returned, circling around the mess, he found Vilu clutching the corpse (?) of her sergeant (presumably). Max looked down at that. Then at the makeshift wall. Then at the fact that they were both alive and the Jedi wasn't anywhere to be found.

"You know." He checked his wrist after aiming it at Cass. Yeah, that checked out. "Drop 'im in the grasp of the Knights and they will probably forgive you for not bringing back the crystal."

Impassionate.

Max didn't seem to care about the anguish currently rending Vilu from the inside.

"You need help with lugging him? Either way, I suggest we get out of here, because this place is on its last legs."

 

[Belfry of Tund]

Ilarra Nica

Belfry wasn't brought up with the Vahla belief.

But that didn't mean he didn't see the significance of the event. A showing of the flames. He was told about this in the last few weeks of becoming acclimatized to the Vahla cult. But it almost never happened to beginning acolytes. Hell, even practiced members of the cul- group didn't often receive these sort of seeing from Vahl.

To have a shared dream at the same time in the same room?

It meant something.

"It was... underground. No sunlight. Fire spilling out of the veins of the earth surrounding them." Belfry muttered as he thought back to the shared vision of theirs. The fact she threw the chess board over in a rude fashion escaped his notice.

He'd complain about that later.

"There were two of them, I think. But only the boy had those eyes." The girl was nobody. No spark. Decaying and dying without even a flame kept inside of her. He shook his head and tried to focus on Ila's question. Where had it been? Tough to say, if not impossible. The ruined room the boy had been in was devoid of any characteristics.

And yet...

"I don't know where. But... don't you feel it, Ila? The vision still tugs at us. Drawing us..."

And his head shifted until it was pointed at one particular spot in the ceiling. "Right there. Wherever the boy is, it's somewhere there."

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective Two: Shadow and Bone
Actions: Get Ready to Escape
Outfit (Cape-less)

Damian eyed the cell doors, the Force was certainly a wonderful tool, one that his Father frequently used but rarely if ever explained. Talents best used once taught with enough dedication and care he would tell me. Damian shook off his chains, their locks had been picked some time ago and the young Du Couteau heir had been waiting to reveal it to an unsuspecting Guard. He rubbed his wrists and ankles as he carefully lifted himself back up and gingerly took a step outside of his cell.

Freedom was the first step, perhaps the easiest thing to gain, but as the two Senators currently stood, freedom could be stolen just as easily. “No, I’m inclined to agree with your stance on human sacrifice.” Damian responded, he found his confidence slowly returning as his next few steps were sturdier than the last.

“I wouldn’t mind getting my cape back-” Damian was cut short as he froze when he heard the hurried footsteps of heavy boots. His fists clenched as he braced himself to go down fighting for what could only be a laughable attempt for his part.

Oh, they’re not Maw zealots. The young Du Couteau heir tilted his head to the side as he inspected he would be rescuers. He nodded to both of them before Damian gave Senator Organa a glance when he mentioned a group of Maw guards approaching them. Perhaps it will be best to let them go ahead first. Damian knew where his limits were, and for this to succeed he knew he needed to keep himself from receiving any further injury.

“I’ll follow your lead for this escape.”

I can probably live without getting back my cape.
​

|| Alicio Organa | Tallara | Jaqu'n Boiv ||​

 

[Cordé Sabo]

______________________________________________________________
D U L C E T
TASK FORCE NULL | EXEGOL | SUBTERRANIAN STATION
______________________________________________________________
​

Sheb, L’iit, Jyon, Kiyen, they’d all died here. On this station. Verin would survive. She’d clung to life so viciously – she deserved to live. She wanted it so badly. Cordé wouldn’t have said she was okay with death until the moment it suggested it might be upon her; and even then, there was a nagging, unresolved regret that lingered around the perimeters of her awareness. Something unfinished that she couldn’t just give up on.

"I am here..."

She didn’t ask why.

He was stupid. He’d always been stupid this way.

But in all the ways he’d always been, there was something different, something remarkable about now. All the hurt, heat, and pain rescinded away at his command. Like an effortless breath that swept through the room. The elements rescinded. Impossibly large, superheated flames stretched no higher, they doused themselves. Rivulets of molten lava slipped back from whence it came. Nothing unmelted, but the cause evaporated. The temperature recalibrated to be more tolerable. Air flowed, and she could breathe freely.

It was a display of awesome power, like she’d witnessed on Dantooine, but different.

And this time, she wasn’t afraid.

Reactively, she moved to sit up. Her body barked in protest. She gasped out and winced.

He shouldn’t be here. It was hard to wrestle with the responsibility of his delayed evacuation because of his Jedi duty, his being by her side. Her eyes were shut tight. Her vocal chords still felt too burnt to make any articulate noise.

"You are okay, I have you."

He did. Even when she’d betrayed him, even when she’d been afraid of him, he had her.

He wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t his, but it was moments like this one that made it feel like they should have belonged to each other. Like they should have had each other from the moment they’d met. Like every bout of opposition, disagreement, frustration, were just faux sensations to feel instead of devotion’s deep, irrevocable pull.

With lungs more full of smoke than anything else, nausea threatened her last ounces of consciousness. Blackness took pulsing shapes at the edges of her sight, and bloomed in and out of focus. But those eyes.

They’d been scary once, like this, but full of anger and target fury. Blackened and huge. His eyes were different from usual, but this time, they looked at her the way she’d taken for granted. The way she’d tried to escape, And the same way she saw when she closed her eyes at night. This time though, those eyes, that look, burned with a brightness and a colour that she’d been told was wrong for Force-users to have.

But she couldn’t look away.

“Your eyes…”

"Can I? You need healing."

In the safe circle of his arms, she heaved out a broken laugh. The first time they’d met, she’d rebuked his audacious approach to healing, and even now, when she felt like she was melting and charred black, he asked her permission. And Cordé couldn’t deny her needs.

“Please.” She croaked, and moved again to pull herself up. “I don’t..know what happened but..I thought I stopped it..how did you..”

______________________________________________________________

F O E S | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW |
F R I E N D S | GA | NJO | SIA | Sion Lorray
______________________________________________________________​