Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

[Erion Justeene]

Location: Sith Citadel | Exegol
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags: Thomas Barran | Aoki-Barran Mira | Open

Streamers of molten plasma burst from the crashing blades, and the conjoining hum travelled in the hollow chamber. Mira was much more skilled than Superious had pegged her to be, which is a welcome surprise. Easy fights were getting Monotonous and he would have picked something else to occupy his mind instead of war, destruction, and chaos.

Thankful for a real challenge, Superious deftly adapted his Saber form to counter hers. He was never fully stuck on one single style, which added to his unpredictability. Countering Mira was relatively simple, he was also taller than her which gave him an advantage but for how long, he had little idea. As far as he was concerned, he was winning and that's the result he hopes for. This is why he had to break combat because Mira had the nerve to use Cortosis and it rendered his Saber unresponsive. He was without his weapon, his primary one at least. He still had many tactics left up his sleeves. The sharp burn of a well-aimed blade made its presence known across his arm. He had moved, but in doing so he left his arm open for injury.

Deep, painful and bleeding freely he willed himself not to let it hang limply at his side. Blood hit the floor in small puddles. Fingers twitching with nerve misfire. He hates Katanas more than he hated Crushgaunts.

Superious ground his teeth in both pain and annoyance, they are finding it harder to heal him after he charges forth into warfare. Still, he doesn't flee. Instead, he decided to use the Force to hurl cages at Mira, the Voidsaber wasn't on the cards yet, but when there are no other options, Superious will use it.

There was something he had noticed about his opponent, she was getting tired, so the strategy has changed, keep wearing her down until she can't resist. So far this was a very difficult task.

 

[Sahar]

SAHAR|Imperial Knights|Exegol
Tags:// Michael Barran Aoki-Barran Mira Siyndacha Aerin
Opposition:// Cale Gunderson

"And you're predictable."

She retorted mockingly, jumping above his sweep kick and rolling back before catching an overhead swing with her saber and answering back viciously with her own. Once again, it seemed the pair were at an impasse. His words hit a deep wound that had not manifested itself in years, which, through conditioning and ruthless training, had been hidden beneath a callous persona that had terrified many a Jedi and Imperial subordinate for years.

Sahar moved to battle once more before an intense light ripped through the battlefield; she covered her gaze and stumbled a few steps back before coming to her senses and renewing her attack again. Angrily snarling with each move that became more feral and nasty with each swing and strike, she used the momentum to lunge at him and take advantage of his lack of an arm. The Kandaran pushed into him and grabbed his lone arm, pulling it to the side and repeatedly headbutting him with fury even as the lightsaber burned with intense agony as it touched her shoulder.

"DIE."​

 

[Arage Bao]

OBJECTIVE 1 | PHASE 3 | CLEANSING LIGHT​

The fleet had jumped into the system as planned.

What hadn't been planned was the sheer resistance offered by the Maw fleet. They were relentless and had little to no sense of self-preservation in the face of the Alliance onslaught. If they could bring down a cruiser by sacrificing three of their own ships? They would do it and they'd die laughing as their ships exploded around them.

This was not about victory for them.

It was about sacrifice. About spilling their own blood while bringing as many of their foes with them as possible. This is why it had taken so long for them to breach into Exegol's atmosphere. Lord Admiral Bao was not one to sacrifice ships needlessly. While she could indeed have simply ordered them to crush the Maw fleet, their own losses be damned, Humbarine's despot did nothing of the sort.

In this moment.

As the Alliance fought to destroy the Maw.

Arage picked responsibility to all over expedience.

It almost made her skin crawl, but that was a story for another day. They still lost more ships than Alliance High Command had hoped, but the Lord Admiral managed to minimize the losses to their sector fleets. At the end of this - with Exegol standing or not - the Alliance would not be a bloody carcass just waiting to be pounced by the Sith.

This Arage swore.

In the meantime the battle slowed down in the upper heights of the Station. Valery Noble and Kahlil Noble 's battle against Kyrel Ren had been unforeseen. Nobody should have been able to board the station before its time to engage was near. Yet, the Force was a wily creature, it was why Arage despised it so.

Uncontrollable.

The clipped tone of Arage would be relayed to the Jedi partners. "Congratulations on your victory, Master Jedi." Quiet, calm. "We have broken through the atmosphere. We will be in position to engage the station soon, prepare yourself, this isn't over yet."

Hopefully IVI was having more fun than she did.

 

[Rhemti Totriddiam]

“Watch the dog.”

"Got it. 'Dog'." Rhemti let out a slow breath, eyes flitting to Nyaeli for a brief moment before back over to her.... 'beast companion'. He'd never seen such a creature, knew nothing about it. Only that if it was under the Sith's control, it was guaranteed to be hostile. He pulled his saber free, letting out a sharp whistle to get the creatures attention, whilst also reaching out to poke its mind with his own; his only reason being trying to provoke it to focus on him and stay away from Capris.

"If you think about it, you started this. Not us." His eyes flashed with a bit of frustration, even if he had a bit of humor to his tone in the response to the Sith.

The Nautolan padawan strode forward, not as fast as Capris but that was on purpose. He wanted to be different in his movements, all the more to try and grab the creatures attention.

Nyaeli | Capris Halcyon

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

"True." His hackles raised from how indignant she responded to him. How dared she respond to him that way? She? After what Cordé had done? She believed she had the moral high ground? "Because this time around you didn't steal an infant." Responded with a tone verging so close to neutrality it almost sounded bored.

If not for his eyes.

Fierce and steady at once.

No, this was not the same Sion that offered apologies, bend over backwards and did his best to keep the peace. That one had been killed on Dantooine and buried on Selvaris.

He watched her work and at the same time kept another eye to their surroundings. The fact that Sion couldn't feel anyone didn't mean nobody was there stalking them. This possibility was dropped when Cordé suggested the unacceptable. They were already too late. Eyes widened as Sion realized what that meant.

The planet.

If they didn't stop this, it would be destroyed with everything on it.

He bit the inside of his cheek and thought. Hard. If it was started here, maybe it could be stopped too?

"If it has, we must stop it." Sion said with something verging on despair, before getting a grip on himself. This was not the time for hysterics and letting his emotions get the better of him. Or her emotions for that matter. He steeled himself and thought hard about it. "Keep working on the consoles, maybe you can slice through it and put a stop to the routine."

Nodding there as the plan solidified with her input.

"I will... I will try and disable the core reactor of the facility. Maybe if we shut it down it will prevent anything else from happening. Even if not, closer to the reactor I can use its residual power to send a distress signal. The Alliance has to know about this, so even if we fail, we can save our people surface-side."

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

7th post

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
MAJOR-GENERAL OF WILDCAT DIVISION
SWORD OF THE WINTER

Tags (Friendlies): Eina L'lerim-Vandiir Nukth Kelga'an Primarion Hiperius FN-999 Veyli Xoxtin

Tags (Hostiles): @Darth Mori Kyrel Ren Erion Justeene Marlon Sularen Khaostra Devoid

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS V: A DEATHLY POGROM - PART 7

Spoiler

SOLIPSIS BEACON-SQUARE, DISTRICT OF THE TITAN,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)

~=There are a lot of them.=~
​

Lord Aron turned to Eina, listening in his mind of minds, but in his lack of acclimation to telepathic communication, Gowrie couldn't help but look to L'lerim-Vandiir for her feelings on the matter, hoping not to see any loss of morale in her eyes as the Kellas' gaze crossed with that of the Saint. Though fortunately for the Tuath, the Valkyrie was more than ready to fight, looking almost as if her mind was chomping at the bit to get into the thick of it, then nodding approval whilst pointing towards his own eyes for reference.

~=That huge brain controls the rest. They are not human, they have no soul, or they look like empty shells… animals.=~
​

With little more offered than another nod, though in curt agreement this time, the Major-General politely, and verbally replied,'Duly noted, Valkyrie. Though it won't be long before they have the power to swarm us.... From there, its just going to become a mad pogrom, but only until the last strike lands on that - uh - thing up there. Either way, ye can rest assured the Wildcats can weather it.', trailing off with a roguish wink as he turned to the others. But before the Kellas raised his temporarily-imbued sword for all to see, he briefly leaned back towards the Saint to drawl,'An' this is all it takes to work 'em up an'aw.... Jus' a moment, an' take note o' the looks in their eyes while yer at it. Your reassurance we'll hold the line with ye.', leaning forward again with a chuckle as his sword was raised in a rallying gesture for the last time that day.

'This is what we all aspired to fight someday, an' now we're here - ENDEAVOURING OUR WILDEST DREAMS TOGETHER!!!! So lock an' load, Goidels! The greatest fight of the century stands o'er yonder! ARE YE WITH ME?!?!'

​

Met with a wall of roars, ululations and cheers, Lord Aron saw the others raising rifles, slug-throwers, grenade-launchers, and even rotary cannons above their heads in a salute to their Major-General's rallying gesture, the volume they offered seemed louder than before somehow, and much louder at that.

*'A-mhàin an làidir, brother! Lets begin!'
*"Only the strong!"

At Lord-Aron's right shoulder, as his best guardsman, stood Lord Byron Scott, the Major-General's most reliable subordinate after his own second-in-command. Sporting a rotary-cannon of his own, with his trusty disruptor rifle slung over his shoulder, the Guard-Captain looked formidable as his General replied,'Alright.... We fire first!', stepping out in front of the Goidelic mob with Sting o' Frost pointed directly at the horde in the distance. Glowing brightly on the increasingly-dark backdrop, held proudly by the Chieftain of Tuatha but with something else added with the imbuement, the Songsteel rang in the wind for a moment or two before Gowrie finally bellowed,'WIIIIILDCAAAAATS!!!! WEAPONS-FREE - OPEN FIRE!!!!!', with every last intention of being heard by enemies corporeal and celestial alike.

Now we're talkin'!
Now its a proper fight for survival.

 

[Michael Barran]

7TH POST

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

Tags (Friendlies): Siyndacha Aerin Aoki-Barran Mira Sahar Simon Meinrad

Tags (OPFOR): Khaostra Devoid Marlon Sularen Erion Justeene

BORN OF BRIGHT STARS VII: DANCING WITH THE DAMNED - PART 7

Spoiler

WESTERN COURTYARD, INTERNMENT ZONE,
THE SITH CITADEL, EXEGOL (SUMMER 878 ABY)

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURGH!!!!'​

They were laughing and baulking in their hubris before, but in seeing and hearing what they would be up against, it was enough to silence the mutated Mawite warriors in their respect for power, choosing no longer to take their quarry for granted as they worked to step over the circular pile of smoking, cadaverous husks to get within reach. But unlike the wild, unhinged assaults of the ones who perished before, this mob would be far more patiently confident in their approach, looking for angles and considering what their hands would do to the Woad's skull in the event their hands grasped around it.

'So you would give us a proper fight then.... GOOD!!!! I'D EXPECT AS MUCH FROM AN IMPERIAL!!!!'

In silent answer, and in the only answer of it's sort that would ever perturb brutes of the sort, Barran smirked at the outspoken one, seemingly on the verge of baulking like his opponents but making a poor show of keeping it to himself for the sake of good manners. However, the ringleader of the brutes didn't like that, baring a rather crude-looking flail with rusty screws hammered in as soon as the Imperial Warden sheathed his sword, silently making a gesture of his intent to drive it into the Woad's skull, but this only drew a wicked smile from Lord Michael in response. 'Confident for a corpse in the making, I'll grant you that at least.', the outspoken one continued, trailing off to signal with handwaves that he wanted the others to hold off on their pseudo-coordinated attack, but as soon as his gaze fell on the Druid once more, a wicked smile of his own began to form.

'Though I do wonder, is there power enough within you to back that up - against us? As opposed to - ya know - the ones you had your fun with?'

Are ye watchin', Auld-yin?
Aye.... But I want to see that lightsabre in action noo.
An' enough o' yer tricks.... I want t'see the Goidel within this time.
​

Calling the curved Makashi sabre to his right hand and switching it on as soon as it made contact, Barran let the glow envelop the ground around him as he calmly replied,'Naturally.... Though it must be said, it is quite bold of you to assume I won't have my fun with your heavies as well.... Oh, an' by the way, its not bravery - nought that you could consider anywhere close to that effect anyways. But with that being said.... Perhaps you can liken it to malice, sadism, or even bloodlust if you wish to be the poetic sort.', looking the leader up and down as if he were little more than a bottom-feeding wretch, adding even more to the fire that was the contrastingly-silent rage of the outspoken one. It was clear the brutes' leader was in utter disbelief, shaking his head at the brazen, galling insults offered so subtly by the Wanderer, but just like Lord Michael's own, the confidence of the outspoken one was also every part as palpably apparent in turn.

'Yeah, I know you don't like that.... But in my viewpoint, thats exactly what you are in the grand scheme of things. But I'm not here for your rage - I'M HERE FOR VIOLENCE!!!!'

With a shockingly-quick sprint off the stationary mark, the Druid bore down on the outspoken brute with everything he had, but instead of running he Mawite through, Lord Michael instead decided to close the distance even farther; and before the hulking warrior had any time to react or brace for impact, the slightly-shorter Goidel was already sinking his forehead into the brute's jaw, jumping into the blow and committing to the impact with a deep-rumbling grunt of exertion. A blow so heavy it sent the leader careening into the ranks of the ones standing ready behind him, dispersing a decent amount of them from the pains of being bludgeoned by their own comrade all at once, and though it had sown doubts in the mob that surged forth in the spirit of reactive fury, it would take a little while to reap the anguish, the horror, and their souls last of all.

But the Wanderer was nothing, if not patient whenever his focus was set.

However, Lord Michael wouldn't be sitting back idly this time either, gleefully springing forth again to weaken the leader's segment of the envelopment to even greater extremes, meeting the disorganised segment with kyber cuts, ankle-stomps, spinning-backfists with vaulting and lateral escapes until he was clear of the encirclement by a few paces or so. It may have proven the perfect strategic play to make if it wasn't for a sly strike at his back at the last moment, forcing the Wanderer to sprint a little farther before daring to double back for more, and when Lord Michael eventually turned, the shocking speed he utilised before would find all the more purchase in underfoot traction in his second attack, urging himself onwards with jaw clenched in anticipation - urging his momentum to inflict even more damage on the remaining majority.

Get stuck in, laddie.... Throw everything into it, as every Goidel would in your place.
Get stuck in as you know how, laddie.
​

Growling in his approach towards the first and front victims of the chasing rabbling, the first two would lose their heads in the poor luck of being easy to slip past, not knowing that skilled swordsmen of Barran's sort could use their own lateral attacking-angles against them; not knowing that the shorter reach of their weapons was easily negated by the long, slender reach of any sword, let alone one of the most iconic lightsabres in the entire Galaxy. Clean deaths for the bravest of chasers, though this would only be afforded the first two, as the real insult awaited the third of the nearest attackers; and much to the great detriment of the third attacker's morale, (and his ability to fight along with it) the screaming brute had chosen to attack head on, playing right into the hands of the Woad's sprinting momentum.

Then with another sickening grunt, the Wanderer vaulted forth with the soles of both boots pointing directly at the brute's chest, throwing every ounce of weight and Force-power into a dropkick that landed so forcefully it sent the third chaser careening into the others as his leader had just moments before, a jumping, tilted, two-footed teep kick of which had landed so impactfully it created space enough for another cutting sprint towards the approaching mass. Quite the picture to paint for those still running toward the action at the time, as all those who were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of their own comrade for a second time, brave though they were to approach with fewer brutes on their end of the previous envelopment, all were either shaking off the pain to shoddy effect, writhing around or (in some cases) completely unconscious at the closest proximity.

Good.... Now give me more.
MORE, DAMN YOU!!!!

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-'
​

Hopping over bodies of the living and the dead alike, seemingly skipping in an esoteric answer to the traditional Sword-Dance of his people, but as previously suggested by the bloodied silence and the groaning beneath him, there would be nothing seen of those,"Four Swords on the Floor", on a planet like Exegol. Not that it stopped the Woad's feet from dancing in that bright flurry, that violent blur of sapphire-blue Kyber. However, unlike the double-booted teep, anything that came into contact with the unpredictable movements of the Makashi sabre would be dead by the time they hit the ground, coincidentally spared the embarrassment of the slighting mercies afforded to their eager comrades, spared the horror of waking to see what Barran did to the others.

THATS MORE LIKE IT, LADDIE!!!!
NOW TAP INTO THAT WOAD YOU SO FERVENTLY DENY!!!!!

REACH IN AN' FIND 'IM, OR SO HELP ME - I WILL!!!!
​

To onlookers, it may have seemed like an endless succession of split-second strikes with the lightsabres, (and in a way most would have been correct in their assumption) but despite the clear advantage in skill and power, Barran was still quite far from the realm of dominant infallibility. There was always someone in the Galaxy who could outpace the quickest, outthink the smartest, along with everything else, but in that pogrom within the Internment Complex - no such entity was present to match or eclipse the Wanderer that day.

From the flurries came death in abundance, but then the endless blur of swiping sapphire changed, and in such a dramatic fashion that it could barely be said to be the same warrior at all, effortlessly displaying an entirely new level of frightening Makashi-sabre proficiency. The blue, difficult though it was to track, then began to flash in what seemed like a strobe effect, clearly moving on to techniques forbidden by some in the Galaxy in making better use of the close-quarters advantage the lightsabre offered. It was a marvel to behold, and a nightmare to face off against, and before long, all that remained were the struggling, pained survivors of the early stages - with one brute in particular still awaiting the final killing strike.

'Now where is that talkative one? Hmmmm.... Ah, there you are.'
​

Barran was just moments away from beheading the fearful leader of the brutes when a bright white flash of light caught his eye, briefly distracting the Wanderer as he studied the Wall of Light and muttered,'Jedi magic.... The faux light.... Pretty, so she is. But still, nought but a deftly-crafted façade in my estimation. Nought but shadow in disguise.', as his attentions turned back to the once-outspoken brute. Smiling as soon as eye-contact was regained, the Woad looked on the broken face of the man who wished to be his nemesis, widening eyes in the spirit of wrath as he concluded,'Not that it would mean all that much to you either.... Its time, brother. You ready?', widening his grin as the sapphire Makashi slid through the dirt towards the brute's neck.

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

6TH POST

-AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY-

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags (Comrades): The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Ardana Vorco Ronar Erion Justeene
The Grunt Armand Narrdrenn Kyrel Ren

Tags (Enemies): EVERYONE BUT THE HORDE!!!! JOIN - OR PERISH!!!!

CLASHING SHADOWS II: FORTRESS OF DARK SAINTS - PART 6

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (SUMMER OF 878 ABY)

'Brave.... Very Barran-like, it must be said.... Lets see how he fares against this lot.'
​

Watching on as the brutes patiently moved to surround Lord Michael on all sides, the Darkhans had taken up seats on either side of their Warlord, hoping to hear whatever the Bloodhound had to say on his brother's predicament as the fight progressed, though Thomas himself was deathly silent at the time. All they could see was Barran's eye as it darted back and forth across the holographic wall-projection, seemingly counting the heads of all those who were stacked against the younger sibling in the encirclement, though they couldn't say for sure - so the Darkhans had no other choice but to pass comments and predictions back and forth between each other.

<"Confident for a corpse in the making, I'll grant you that at least.">​

At least until their Warlord saw fit to speak his mind on the matter.

'Brother Nail, I am surprised you can't see it for yourself yet.'

<"Though I do wonder, is there power enough within you to back that up - against us? As opposed to - ya know - the ones you had your fun with?">

<"Naturally.... Though it must be said, it is quite bold of you to assume I won't have my fun with your heavies as well.... Oh, an' by the way, its not bravery - nought that you could consider anywhere close to that effect anyways. But with that being said.... Perhaps you can liken it to malice, sadism, or even bloodlust if you wish to be the poetic sort.">
​

'NOW THATS THE SORT OF,"BARRAN THE YOUNGER", I EXPECTED TO SEE!!!! GET SUUUUUM!!!!'

Shades of the Michael that were known to Thomas were shining through, but instead of the raw psychosis of yesteryear, the Bloodhound could see the indomitable resolve it had become since, drilled and trained into a fine-tuned weapon in it's own right. But topping it all off for the Warlord was the fact he could still feel the warmth of pride coursing through his veins at the time, relieved that his younger brother was thriving in the years since his first life ended so abruptly, making it all the more gut-wrenching to consider the possibility they would cross blades someday, though the elder of Barran brothers couldn't bear the thought of what followed his failure to recruit and reconcile with the younger.

'Unsure why you have him marked for recruitment, as family doesn't always equate to loyalty after all, but anyway.... If you would humour me without judgement, I hear much of you in the way your brother speaks.... Even in the way he moves, there's a layer of the Bloodhound interwoven with it, you - but with it's own particular flair.'

'Pfffff! Lay off the drink, Rook! You're hallucinating agai-'
'-Shut up, Ghoul! Behave yourself!'
'Alright, alright.... Don't go turning baby-blue on us now, I'll behave.'
'Good man.'
​

From his statue-like stillness the Bloodhound stirred, turning to lock his one-eyed gaze in with the white-eyed counterpart of his Arkanian Darkhan, resuming his statuesque, disquietingly silent lack of motion until he quietly replied,'We learned with the same swords, but results vary.... So pay closer attention, Brother Rook. You'll see,"Why", soon enough.', turning back towards the broadcast in renewed commencement of his silent, gargoyle's tranquillity. Fortunately for the Warlord, he was just in time to see the disdain on the face of his brother when the Woad's eye locked onto the projection again, with the broadcast showing a goading, aggravating side to Michael of which Thomas had never seen in him before; difficult to read, but the Bloodhound latched onto the feed all the same, sensing a concentrated fury of the likes he faced against Jas Katis on Mustafar.

<"Yeah, I know you don't like that.... But in my viewpoint, thats exactly what you are in the grand scheme of things. But I'm not here for your rage - I'M HERE FOR VIOLENCE!!!!">
​

'Heh! If not,"Already", at this stage.'

And yet, for all of the insight offered from the Warlord's previous life, there was nothing at all that could have prepared him for what happened next.

'YALDYYYYYY!!!! OPENS UP WAE A PROPER WESTCAPE KISS!!!! YA FETHING DANCER, MAN!!!!'

The ensuing mayhem was nothing short of thrilling for the viewers on Mar'Zambul, almost making Thomas wish he was there, watching it all unfold in person like he had front row seats to the greatest of gladiatorial spectacles, made all the more intense by the fact the Hearthen Hall was erupting in the uproar of the enthralling showdown that turned all heads to see it. All were standing up by then, ignoring the comforts of the seats behind them as everyone jeered, cheered and urged on the solitary fighting Imperial, hooting and hollering like drunken hoodlums as Lord Michael carved his bloody pathways with awe-inspiring ferocity. But Rook, despite his near-unparalleled valour in combat, and despite his own great ferocity in his never-ending fight against the darkest of Mawite creatures along the way, was the only quiet soul remaining in the room - growing increasingly troubled by Lord Michael's prowess in battle.

Sensing in the younger sibling power enough to defeat the elder, but daring not give voice to such a possibility - trapped in the prediction with no power to cast it away from the forefront of his mind.

'This man is a wonder to watch, Lord Bloodhound. I cannot deny it, but you don't see what I see here - I see someone, some-thing else entirely. So I must ask that you be careful with this one, I feel a certain dread when I look into your brother's eyes, though I regret I am much too inebriated to articulate exactly what vexes me this way.... I mean, look at him! Not even demons fight that way, for feth's sake. Surely you can see it too, Lord Bloodhound.'

<"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-">
​

And before they knew it, Rook's concerns would take on an entirely new form, with everyone else around them just as gobsmacked as the Bloodhound and his Darkhans in turn, for nothing in the Galaxy could have prepared any Scar Hound for the sort of warrior that still remained to stem the dark tide. None could have been prepared to see what many were describing as unassailable, too fast to track, or as too powerful outright, but in all of it, Thomas was smiling almost ear to ear.

'Of course I see it, Brother Rook. And it is quite possibly the most glorious wake-up call I have ever experienced. I mean, if one Barran can achieve this, then imagine what it might look like to see two Barrans facing off with such power.... I'm going to train, bring Brother Superious to me when he returns - enjoy the show.'

 

[Castian Vero]

Ishida Ashina

"Oh, first you try and kill me without consent, now you are going to tell me where I am supposed to be going?" The tone dryly rather than particularly insulted.

At least she stopped trying to kill him.

For now.

Castian wasn't sure how long that would be for, but maybe if he talked enough he could make the inhumane Jedi Thunderstrike see things his way. Or at least not opposed his way. "Look, I don't give a chit what yar doing here, kay? Do what you gotta do, I am not here protecting the Maw. Do what you gotta do, I do what I gotta do and we split up like barely-acceptable associates."

Stepping forward towards her, but this time around Castian pointed his carbine down to the floor entirely.

Hopefully enough of a sign he wasn't trying to be a threat.

"Or you can waste more o' yar time beating up a lone stormtrooper that isn't even trying to stop you." Past that Castian sighed and decided to gamble on it.

By holstering his gun and moving to step past her towards the atrium.

If she wanted to do the killing blow? Oh, now would be the perfect moment.

He was practically asking for it really.

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

Aoki Mira, or Mira Lettee Aoki.
Imperial Knight of the Empire.
Michael Barran's Shadow.

Tags: Erion Justeene Michael Barran Sahar @whoever else is reading or whatever

As droplets of blood splattered across the floor, Aoki only narrowed her eyes in disappointment. Her strike was not good enough. He was still alive. She heaved a breath, unable to immediately try again. She doubled back, giving herself time to catch her breath as her eyes locked on her opponent.

He seemed to be in a similar boat as her, as he showed visible rage towards the situation. The Imperial Samurai lightened her feet and readied herself to move. It was never good when a Sith was angry. She sheathed her weapons as the Dark Side fluctuated in him.

An entire cage arose from the ground, then was hurled towards her. Hapless, Aoki used everything in her to dodge. The creatures in their cells roared and shrieked as scrap metal was flung towards Aoki. Metal fell like rain.

As she swerved and dodged, Aoki frowned.

What are you doing?

The sound of scrapped droid slamming against a cage door screamed into her ears.

You are on a mission.

She panted as the wind from the collision of two shelves rippled through her hair.

Complete it!

She slid across the floor, only to get smacked in the chest by another object and tossed back. She rolled across the durasteel floor. She grunted a pained gasp as she tried to hold it together. She had to summon her armor's energy shield to further protect herself from the barrage.

What are you doing!

Her arms shook as she pushed herself up. She gritted her teeth.

"Umph!"

She threw her arm, using a blast of telekinesis to shove the next wave of metal away from her. The deafening chorus of metal slamming the walls rang out as she activated her repulser boots and once again rocketed forth using Force Speed. Instead of reaching the Sith, however, she once again collected her bow. Sweat soaked her. The taste of blood was potent on her lips. She activated her suit's stealth tech in conjunction with Force Stealth. She struggled to run, but she shakily leaned against an out of site crate and decloaked.

Her chest heavily rose and fell as she vibrated in exhaustion. As she stopped, however, she sensed something. It was something she had never expected to sense on Exegol of all places. The bathing, soothing presence of the Light Side of the Force. She sensed the power swell. She felt Force Signatures flair and the Force ripple. Then, a burst of tremendous power. Then... it stopped.

What was that?

Deep underground, she had no idea what transpired. Although she could swear, for a moment, that the room felt brighter. What is going on up there?

Mira's mind jumped to Michael Barran. To the Highlanders. To all in the Empire she knew. The Light Side should be a good sign. But something so potent? For all she knew, it was a sign that this world was getting torn apart.

I can't stay here much longer...

She closed her eyes, feeling the urge to cry. But as her eyes shut, she only saw countless abominations, Moon Children staring back at her, and the bodies of her fallen comrades. Everything, the guilt and rage, was so hard to girdle. But she gulped, lifting her head as she forced her feelings down her throat. If there was any time to end this duel, it was now.

She drew upon all the energy she had. She used the Force to aid her.

She jumped out of her hiding spot, running towards her opponent once more. She pulled back the string of her bow and fired a plasma bolt. From her vambrace, the vambrace she notched the arrow from, she fired two small shuriken at the same time. Then, she extended her hand, summoning a pulse of Force Light to at least weaken her opponent.

She got as close to him as she could. With her other hand she clumsily drew Fukaikiru and made her final attempt to kill him.

She had nothing left to give.

Spoiler

Equipment:

• Samurai Armor.
• Imperial Lightsaber.
• Hazukashi, naginata pole-arm.
• Fukaikiru, wakizashi shortsword.
• Seijo-Ki, tanto knife.
• Highlander disruptor pistol.
• Auriel Combined Energy Bow.

​

 

[Dominik Borra]

PHASE 3 | FORBIDDEN DISTRICT - EXEGOL
Equipment:
Personal Armor | Robotic Arm | Cybernetic Eye | Thorns | Amulet of Many
Ebony, Sword | Cross Cryo Projector | SPS-25 Whisper Suppressed Sidearm | DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System

Keep on Keeping on
​

His gun ran empty, the largest downside to slugthrowers: their capacity. He ejected the magazine, letting it splat in the mud behind him as he reached for another. Then lightning struck. A dazzling line of power and light came striking down towards him with blinging flashes. He jumped to the side, only for the sheer blast that would have hit him throw him a dozen or so feet to the side. He rolled to a stop, found he had dropped his magazine, and reached for his last one. His body ached with the blast and fall. He probably had something broken.

"WAR! DEATH! REBIRTH! FOREVER I AM UNSTOPPABLE!"

Standing up he saw Tagen holding Cora. He had just missed that altercation. If he was where he had been, he would have had a good clean angle to shoot her in the head. But now he was too far over, and regaining that angle would be nearly impossible with her watching him. He had lost the Cryo Projector so he couldn't freeze them both solid and save Cora later. His grip tightened on the grip of his gun, trembling.

There was a reason he had always groaned at how IVI had used TFN and his own abilities, like shock troopers to fight Sith and Darksiders head-on. It was the worst possible play, and here it showed with Tegan. Their abilities with the Force were just too great, and if they refused to rely on their conventional practices of saber fighting then it was tough to exploit.

"Agent, new target," Jand called, "Keep his highness busy - I need to engage Starfall."

Dom's eyes widened and the gun stopped trembling. Yes! Jand had fought her before and with his own powers could match her, he would be a better match to save the Padawan. He turned to find Jand disengaging just as forms, silhouettes of soldiers, came through the mist and dust. Blaster fire illuminated the area like a dance club with too much smoke in the air. And Dominik was out in the open.

But so was Jand Talo.

Dominik reached and pulled out his DC-17m, brought it up level, and pulled the second trigger. A grenade THOOMP'ed out from the underbarrel, exploding between the flying Padawan and the troopers. The resulting mud and debris would cover the padawan's retreat, keeping the blasters off his back.

But they clearly saw Dominik now, and so would the Sith holding the red saber. Blaster fire dinged off his armor, jerking him around as he attempted to move. It wouldn't be the first time he had faced off against multiple soldiers or a Sith, but combined? And now tiring as he was, with only ten round of slugs? This was getting bad. Still, he reloaded another grenade while under fire, running towards a rocky outcropping for cover. If it meant the two Jedi could get out, then that would be alright.

//_GA ADVISORY

A display opened up through his HUD. Was it...?

//_LIGHTPOINT STATION NOW IN ORBIT.
//_LIGHTWALL IMPERATIVE COMMENCED
//_STANDBY FOR LIGHTWALL IMPERATIVE ACTIVITY

Dominik grinned beneath his helmet as blaster bolts exploded on his cover. Darth Sokar and this Sith were about to be powerless. They just had to buy time. But there were still these hostile troops to take care of. He was downrange of them, and they knew where he had taken cover. It was time to get tricky.

He took a step back from his cover, using the last seen coordinates for the troopers through his Eye to virtually aim his grenade up and down on their location. He fired, the grenade thumping into the air to come down on them in just a few seconds. Then he pulled out his two Thermal Detonators and set them one for five seconds and the other for twenty seconds. He threw the first and set the other down at his side, timer ticking. He held up the blaster over the ridge and blind fired a volley towards them. He quickly loaded another third grenade, his last, and fired that. Then he ditched the weapon and shed the various parts and additions the gun had, and ran off parallel to their position. Ten seconds left on the grenade's timer.

With the heavy fire from him kicking up more dirt and grim into their rain-soaked air, plus the added fire from his own gun would focus the trooper's attention on that location, forcing them to advance in order to reach him and take care of him. While they were focused there he kept to the many black shadows of Exegol, moving around to flank them. His Suppressed Sidearm in his left hand and his Sword in the other. A broken rib screamed it's protest at the hard movement, but he grit his teeth and kept moving, deadly with his intent.

Allies: Jand Talo | Corazona von Ascania | Daisy Masudo | Strike Team Tano
Enemies: Malum of House Marr | Val Drutin | Tegan Starfall​

 

[Jem Fossk]

Spoiler: solo arc

EXEGOL | FORBIDDEN DISTRICT | THE GATES​

Jem stood rigid, a pillar of steel amongst the flexible bend of the jedi hive mind. She found it hard to let it do more than brush against her. She rationalized it was because of her father. It was just a sensitive enough topic that no one pressed it.

Jem lied to herself and to everyone around, each glance from Ishida pulling a forced smile to her lips. Her posture screamed of confidence. Her slow breaths indicated she was calm. Yet deep inside her heart raced, weighed down by a truth that she kept to herself.

She could feel him down there. Her father. Whatever link they had shared during the force storm had not been shattered by her betrayal. Darth Solipsis lived through her.

So she blocked the hivemind out.

Jem barely managed a grimace at Ishida's jaunt, half present and a million miles away as the door opened to the planet that had been her personal hell for near half a year.

"If I do this right?" She finally answered, her fingers thumbing a golden saber to life. "Both."

She should say more to Ishida. Thank her-- encourage her-- go with her. She did none of it. She took off and skirted around the edge of the building conflict, leaving Strike Team Windu , and her friend, where they stood.

She knew what she needed to do.

Ishida Ashina

On route to throne room
Solo arc

Somewhere in Jem's blood was a royal line. She found that ironic as she sloshed her way through filth under her father's former home. A sewage system brought her down and under the main conflict. She moved through the filth without feeling it, towards the steel structure that had been her twisted version of inheritance.

One day this will all be yours.

The irony continued to grate her as she cut her way through a service door. If things had just been a little different, this could have been Epoch. She would have had a home. She would have known her people-- had a family.

There would be no reason to burn her father's legacy down.

Heat bit painfully at her skin as she kicked the cut out metal into the hall beyond. She stepped into the quiet length and let her senses overtake her. There were no bodies moving above her below her. They would all be drawn to the front, towards the blood lust her father had awakened in them.

Even she could feel the alluring call of darkness beat through her. Kill. Kill. Kil-- Serenity. Jem stiffened under brush of Asmundr Varobalder , her skin flushing unseen in the darkness as she pulled back. He didn't need to feel that-- none of them needed to feel that.

Jem locked the burden of the darkness away from them and reentered her thoughts on her heart, racing loudly in the empty space.

Daughter. She could practically feel his grin inside her mind, as she always had since the day she had betrayed him. Your people need you. Here.

"Oh shut up." She took off running.

Throne Room

It was unnerving how little had changed since her father's death. The large black stone chamber was hollow and cold. The very space throb with memories suffering, so much of it had been her own. She could hear of her cries-- taste her blood-- Every step she took resonated through the air and hit her like a phantom blow, but she forced herself to take another. All her turmoil went silent at the sight of her father's throne.

She stopped short, suddenly aware that she felt no one... nothing at all.

Mistress, it beckoned, its voice slithering in from the space she placed between her and her peers. She couldn't feel them now. She feared with startling clarity that that was a mistake.

The darkness sensed it too. Jem reached with panic toward the light-- Dark energy lept off the throne with malicious glee.

She lifted her saber against the attack, but there was nothing tangible about it. Inky black coils pooled around her mouth.... eyes... nose... and slithered through her. They drowned out the world and denied her all senses. It attacked her pysche, sharp jabs of pain driving with crushing force for her submission. It was all encompassing, with none of the gentle coaxing the darkside had once shown patience to do.

Jem bore no false illusions as the throne laid claim to her person.

This was a siege.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE DAUGHTER OF DUTY
EXEGOL | FORBIDDEN DISTRICT | TO THE CITADEL
LEADER OF THE COMPANIONS | BEARER OF THE RING OF JUDGEMENT

​

She had never been spoken to like this by an enemy. She blinked once, but maintained her impassive façade. Only her brows furrowed indignantly, her eyes silvery slivers, and she tilted the point of her unlit saber in his direction, gesturing head to foot.

She shouldn't have argued. It was childish. Petty.

But..so hard not to.

“You being on this battlefield, donning that armour, gives consent.”

Move after move, the trooper made no motion to prolong their fight. Ishida felt stunned to her core. His demeanour delivered more of a shock to her system than the lightning of his suit.

"I...just...want..."

"You okay, babe?"

"I'm on the only side worthy of an Ashina,"

"Nothing ever really ends,"
"The cycle always goes on."

Laoth, Mercy, Mongrel, Qi’Yon— she’d missed one core thing ahead of her judgement on each: Understanding.

That was what had prevented her from killing Jem, Bernard or Dagon; giving them the chance to have her understand them. Why, because they were Jedi to start with? Probably. It certainly helped that neither were immediately painted as enemies.

While she reflected on this, the soldier pocketed his weapon and bumped past her. Ishida did not step aside. This was a one-way location, with only one use or purpose to someone from The Empire or New Jedi Order alike; other than trying to destroy it outright.

It was like Ilum! Was he after…what she was after?

In her head, she’d already decided he was. But…he was half-right about their situation. He didn’t seem interested in killing her.

“I give a chit.” Ishida’s unlit saber reactivated, and she brought it up, level to the delicate space between Castian’s plated chest and freshly unprotected neck. “What is it you gotta do?” She challenged, repeating his words back to him, though the mocked accent sounded cacophonous and uncouth from her tongue. Inwardly, she cringed.

Patience had never been a virtue of Ishida’s, much to Sardun’s chagrin. It was the one lesson she wrestled with, even now. But at least she was…toeing into trying to understand before passing executional judgement. Right?

​

---

ALLIES | NEW JEDI ORDER | GALACTIC ALLIANCE |
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | THE EMPIRE | Castian Vero

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

PHASE 2: LANDING ON EXEGOL || CITY OUTSKIRTS

​

Allies: The Alliance, Strike Team Tano, Aleksandr Stirsea
Enemies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Sahar

The world had exploded in beams of light, and even in its warmth, Cale felt the touch of fear. What about Aleks? What about Ronan? Something or someone protected him as Lightpoint Station lit a torch in the inky black heart of Exegol. She shielded her eyes, and he stood in the light, a shadow against the golden pillar. But that didn’t stop her, as much as she played at it, this one wasn’t a creature of pure darkness. She was of pride and malice to be sure, but she was not raving Mawite.

Cale wished she had been, it would’ve meant Lightpoint would’ve done his job for him. Instead, she blitzed him, closing the gap before he could react, and lashing out with raw anger. His head snapped back, and pain exploded as the first strike broke his nose, blood falling down into his beard.

“I told you.” He grunted as she struck again, this time catching his cheekbone as he turned his head. It was still going to bruise, and it still hurt, but Cale wasn’t a stranger to pain. “Try harder.”

He punctuated his response by slamming his head back into hers before she could strike again, then drove his knee up one, two, three times into her stomach at lightning speed. Cale fought her grip, twisted, and kicked hard, pulling himself free as he staggered backward, blood running down his chin.

Cale righted himself amidst the black sands and stared down the Imperial and flashed a red grin, crimson staining his teeth as he mocked her by simply refusing to die. The Jedi thumbed the ignition on his saber, and the blue blade collapsed into nothing. The battle around them had become quiet, the sounds of dying away in the wake of Lightpoint’s onslaught, but Cale had tuned out the rest of it anyway.

“Come on kid, give it your best shot.” He taunted. “Show me what your dead Empire taught you.”

She must’ve cut him somewhere during the fight, Cale could feel a gouge in his side, another on his leg, and his nose throbbed. But as the Jedi stood in the light in the heart of the darkness, it was like he’d never been hurt at all.

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

Wearing: Armor
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Maw Freighter
Tag: Darth Temerant | Velda Nar-Donna | Darth Wallgof | Briana Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren | Escape Jara

________________​

Was this really the only way?

Cybelle questioned her decision to split away from Briana Sal-Soren before the words even hit the stale air. They had come into the freighter as a squadron, united, and secure in their cumulatively learned talents. One by one they fell away from one another as the situation demanded. Brandyn Sal-Soren was engaged with a veritable psychopath in the form of Darth Wallgof and there were other unknown threats that she had temporarily sealed away by blocking their path.

She had only been able to sense one of them in the Force—But intuition and the flashes of telltale crimson through the corridor told her that neither party was on their side. "Be safe.", she whispered to Briana before turning down the hall on the right. Shadows enveloped her and occluded her vision even further while she navigated the steel pathways, seeming determined, to make her feel as isolated as possible. The Light was always with her but…The Darkside, always knocked for a Jedi. Always waited.

Hoping that they might lose their footing for just a moment, their faith, and fall.

She refused, to fall. She refused to surrender hope, to sacrifice all that brought balance to the galaxy for the sake of fear.

Cybelle told herself that the oppressive darkness that followed her was just because the power had been damaged in this sector. It was the logical assumption, as booted feet thumped rhythmically on the floor at a rapid pace...But things weren't always logical or linear in her world. She wasn't running from a great and ghoulish maw that seemed violently starved for death, but, toward the objective. Something told her that she needed to beat it there. Be faster, swifter, smarter, and just one step ahead. Her heartbeat filled her head from exertion and but…They couldn't give up now. Couldn't stop. It was always this way. Duty, the mission, before all else. Before each other.

For the greater good.

Project Jareth was a mystery to them. Cybelle, had no idea what it was. The Jedi Counsel gave them the information required to complete the mission but nothing more. There was simply a sense of something intense drawing her forward. Leading, her. Perhaps it was the Force filling in the gaps and providing guidance where mere mortality and red tape had failed. She felt a sense of buoyancy burning deep in her chest that was completely counter-intuitive to the situation at hand.

The young Knight found herself eventually stopped by a large and seriously impressive double-sided blast door. Of course—She was locked out of the control panel. Just as before she rose her hand and the nanites in her armored robes followed a simple mental command. It didn't comprehend words in the traditional sense but the neuro-link provided a mutual understanding that allowed advanced technology to anticipate her needs and take action. It was…Warm. Almost, like having an ever-present friend.

The nano-technology flowed into an open port and sooner than later it began to feed her data whilst it sliced silently past security measures. What took only moments felt like a millennia before suddenly hydraulics kicked in with a barely audible hiss. The locks began to retract. The doors separated and Cybelle was given the first glimpse of the reason they had launched themselves into a perilous and vicious warscape. Only, her view was obstructed.

By a man. By…Emptiness.

Tawny amber eyes surveyed the back of an agent that had somehow beat her to the punch. If she hadn't have seen him with her own eyes it would have been easy to mistake his presence for that of a ghost or an exceedingly well-done holo. Everything that made people who they were, what, they were seemed to be missing in the Force. There was no anger, no joy, no sorrow, nor sense of life or self. He was a blind spot where she was able to more readily detect his equipment, such as the droid, versus his own personage. She stepped into the large, hollow holding area, with certain undeniable truths in mind.

Only the Sith dealt in darkness. Only, the Sith.

"Forgive me…"

Cybelle was certain that the intruder knew that she was there. The door hadn't been silent—And she had not hidden herself the way he did. There was no point in hiding her light when the dark already knew they were there. The trap had already been sprung. The tone that she took with this man of non-existence was almost gentle. As if her voice were full of sweet-water, falling on his auditory faculties like precious rain on a barren land. It cut a swath through the dark in the same way the sun might pierce storm clouds. Defiant, but, kind. Assured.

She waited. It was not the way of the Jedi to take the first strike, even, while an unknown held possession of the very object they had come all this way for. That wasn't to say that she was unaware of the inherent danger nor ill-prepared for it. The young Hapani sighed gently and in the glom, she could only barely make out the shape of him. It was of little consequence. Her ears were just as keen, even more so, because of the disability. She had learned to navigate shadows a long time ago with or without the Force.

"What you hold is very important...I cannot let you leave with it."

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE WARDEN
LIGHTPOINT STATION || MEDITATION SPHERE
PHASE III: CALL TO LIGHT
BATTLEMELD ACTIVE

​

For all the positive feedback that bled into his connection to all the Jedi, and other allies on the planet, there was extreme strife. Even those that were not sensitive to The Force itself were a part of the web that Asmundr immersed himself in ( Dominik Borra ). Their fear, their courage, their endurance, he leaned into that as well.

For all that there was, there was not enough. Each emotion that could not be swapped amidst those on the crust of Exegol itself, from one Strike team to another, felt Asmundr’s own lifeforce and connection reached out to them to establish balance where there was otherwise the concern of total loss or recession to darkness.

Those that faltered, or even teetered on the shadow’s edge, felt the venerable master’s booming reinforcement through their connection that would draw them to participate, to strengthen, the Wall of Light — Silas Westgard , Caltin Vanagor , Amanda braska , Jand Talo , and Sion Lorray .

If they couldn’t hear him, they would feel the sentiment that he poured out through the meld:

SERENITY. STRENGTH.
STAND FIRM IN YOUR INTEGRITY.
LET COURAGE COMPLETE ITS WORK.

He felt the evil in the bowels of the Citadel, it looked like a well of shadows in his mind’s eye, and how it coiled and coiled to unleash a strike at the shimmering light of the would-be Empress.

The dark didn’t hold much substance of course, not to Asmundr who’d become One with the Force once upon a time ago. Now, darkness was like shading to give depth to his understanding, where before it had been a thing without dimension.

Now, it added to a fuller picture, better painting the duality of the Knight who reached out, and provided a stark contrast against the glint of her golden thread flickering and thinning.

Asmundr frowned, tried to re-emphasize his sentiment to reinforce her, embolden her golden thread and the task at hand and all that it meant for her. He could feel it so intensely that he could practically see it. Jem was one of those he’d understood from both visions and personal experience — She’d been his student’s student.

In lieu of Dagon, Asmundr split himself more heavily to the plight that the daughter of Fossk had chosen to do alone, and then, when he felt her fear, she shoved it away in favour of peace.

STAND FIRM IN YOUR INTEGRITY. He emphasised again, this time more direct, more intensely at Fossk.

What else did she need here? The light, yes, but more than that. Something fuller.

How could she have been so surprised? What had she not expected?

THERE IS NO IGNORANCE, THERE IS KNOWLEDGE

The metaphysical vessel of himself lent the perspective which he shared, the dimension that came with darkness, the fuller spectrum of sight.

On Lightpoint station, the physical version of himself was grimacing through the strain. Hands shaking. Molars clenched. Split between pouring his ashlan energy to the Wall, and provide the guidance for those on the crust of the planet.

---

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

 

[Darth Temerant]

TAGS: Escape Jara​

Temerant had been so subsumed by his discovery that he'd not noticed the presence headed his way until it was too late. The man in black turned to regard the woman.

"Um, Master, I don't think you're..." X3 did not finish his warning as the blast doors to the storage room opened.

He tensed readying for the worse as his lightsaber flew from its magnetic holster to his free hand.

"Forgive me..."

That was... unexpected. Slowly, the large, sombre figure looked over its shoulder to regard the person offering such soft announcement. It was almost no wonder he had not sensed her arrival amidst the thick darkness. Whilst he concealed every aspect of his nature in the Force, hers was a light that had no right to continue glowing as it did, engulfed as they were in a sea of darkness, as much literal as it was metaphorical. A gentle wave in a roaring sea.

Her attire was elegant but simple which, coupled with the fact she'd addressed him instead of attempting to stab him in the back marked her almost immediately as a Jedi inside his mind. Still, looks could be deceiving... and a quick scan from his suit's in-built scanners suggested he was looking at technology. Extremely sophisticated technology, his mind filled in the gaps as the sensors struggled to make sense of what he was looking at on a superficial analysis.

And naturally... he quickly quietened any thought regarding how stunning she was. Or rather, he strangled them. He had never been one to gawk or romanticize others based on their appearance (or at all, for that matter). What people looked like had never had any bearing over him, and this was certainly not the time to indulge in his aesthetic sensibilities. It didn't matter that she looked like she had cheated by selecting whatever genes suited her best. Like she had stolen the Gods' blueprints on feminity. Like...

Focus.

"What you hold is very important...I cannot let you leave with it."

There it was. She was after the Project. And he certainly had no intention of giving it to anyone, much less the Jedi. Just like that, all curiosity regarding her person evaporated on the spot. He was a professional, and fulfilling his duty was all that mattered.

"That is, perhaps, the most polite way anyone's ever told me they'll kick my arse unless I comply," he noted. "So in the interest of good manners, I am going to return the favour and be plain with you... You do not want this fight, girl," he growled.

They seemed to contrast each other in every way in that moment. Despite the voice modulator, the gravel in his voice came through crystal clear as he calmly turned around to face her. Despite his seeming tranquility, there was no mistaking his movement as something peaceful, something primal and animalistic about his body language. Where her softness was genuine, his was deliberate, holding the promise of danger.

"It is not your place to allow me to do anything. And if you have any sense in you, you will turn around and pretend you never saw me," he urged her. "Tell your Masters that what you've come seeking was gone. That it was never here to begin with. That they sent you on a fool's errand - because at this point, that is exactly what this is," he assured her. "One way or another, I don't rightly give a kark. Just get out of my way."

With that, the crimson of his blade ignited, as if to bring home his point. One way or another, he was getting out of there.

 

[Maijan Paisea]

___________________________________________________________________
THE FREE TRICKSTER
EXEGOL || MONASTERY OF SLAUGHTER
_____________________________________________________________
​

“All the morrre rrrreason for you to get some sun.” Maijan shrugged, and continued to stretch herself into the weave of the current. Her fingers continued to thrum and twang through the unseen instrument that, note for note, replicated every inch of the ship’s exterior to a convincing outline. Slowly, she started to fill it in.

Among the stars, the effects of Lightpoint Station went unfelt. And while Maijan’s eyes were closed to the metaphysical plain, she could sense the discharge of brilliant Light. It glimmered and rippled through the Currents she effected around the station.

Meter for meter traded reality for illusion. The Station seemed unmoved, as steadfast an outpost as it had always been, where in truth it was slowly embarking on a journey to a new destination, under the command of a more conniving mistress.

"You know, I really did wanna see what the Alliance was planning with that scheme-y station ya sources in the SIA mentioned. It must have been some weird karking chit if the Jedi were involved, yeah?"

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s less this way. The SIA’s morrrre imaginative than the Jeti.”

Maijan’s words came slower than she would have liked. Even with the additional boost of Force-additive, the sheer size of the station was a lot to both conceal and then replicate simultaneously.

If her hands were free, she would have tapped the scar on her neck. The tissue that covered over the several surgeries that had placed a nano-bomb in her neck, and then later been the point of insertion for the anti-Force bioweapon injected to her bloodstream.

The Jedi never would have allowed that.

"Or more brrrrrutal anyway."

Force Sever? Sure. Science? Unthinkable.

“If the Jeti are involved, I’m surrrrre it's a bit more prrredictable.

But it feels prrrretty. How does it look.”

____________________________________________________________
ALLIES | SITH PROBABLY | Mercy
FOES | GA | NJO | BROTHEROOD OF THE MAW
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

Wearing: Armor
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Maw Freighter
Tag: Darth Temerant | Velda Nar-Donna | Darth Wallgof | Briana Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren | Escape Jara
___________

In the relative silence of the hollow room—Cybelle could hear what the mysterious shadow could not.

A call to the Light. The auburn-haired woman was much too far from Exegol itself to truly benefit from the Battlefield Meditation that had been enacted in the wake of such savage warfare. The New Jedi Order had thought they knew what to expect from the Maw…Buy if the torrid events of Tython were any indication of things to come? There was no way to truly prepare. They could only steel themselves as best they could. Plan, upon plan. Contingency—That would undoubtedly go out the window.

The Jedi had been required to adapt.

That was perhaps the hardest thing that any of them had ever done. The Order was steeped in tradition. Forcing them out of their comfort zones and into places where their morality came into question was the surest way to weaken them. Leave them unsteady, the youth, uncertain. Afraid. This cry for hope was the exact thing they needed to overcome. To change, renew, and fight on.

<< || Serenity. Strength. || >>
<< || Stand firm in your integrity. || >>
<< || Let courage complete its work. || >>
​

Beautiful words for a nightmarish war. Her focus remained steadfast on the man of non-existence while he seemed more than a little surprised by her arrival. At least, she imagined that this was what surprise might look like on a figure this imposing. Cybelle did not openly burn the brightest in the Force. Not like Master Noble or even Briana Sal-Soren—But she did burn. An ever-present warmth, steadfast, and true. The camouflage in her armor shifted like scales rolling down her form while she took measured steps closer. Purposefully, trying to make her blend into her surroundings.

To make her seem small—When the task at hand was so large.

"You are correct.", she responded softly to the thinly veiled threats that had been expressed with something that could have been considered patience in another lifetime. Light-brown eyes fell on the much taller stranger quite carefully. Inquisitive—But knowing. As if she were looking for something that couldn't be seen…But was very much so there. "I have no desire to fight you."

His voice filled the room with all the compassion of a grave.

A lesser woman might have slowly crumbled beneath the weight of it. A lesser Knight would have immediately reached for their weapon, however, her saber remained nestled in the holster at her side. This was not the same as deflecting blaster bolts or responding to an imminent threat. It was the likeness of approaching a hungry wolf in the wild. Dangerous, perhaps. But it didn't have the wherewithal to know what it was doing. To understand, through no fault of its own, beyond the end result justifying the means.

It was in that regard that this stranger, the lone wolf, drew a wisp of surprise that winsome features kept buried. The man in black had uttered the unexpected, perhaps, the unthinkable for one cut of his cloth. When compared to the brutish dreadful insanity Darth Wallgof had displayed not an hour prior—it was as if the galaxy had turned itself upside down. Inside out.

This man…This warrior, this Sith—Offered her a way out.

Slowly, her head inclined in quiet gratitude though tawny eyes did not leave his form as his lightsaber came to life in a blaze that illuminated even the darkest corner in a blood-red hue. Either some misplaced sense of compassion was showing, he wasn't with the Brotherhood, or whatever he had discovered Project Jareth to be was too important to fight over. Perhaps a combination of all three no matter how unrealistic it seemed. "I will apologize again, stranger, for continually stepping out of bounds and ignoring my place."

The dulcet nature of her tone never rose beyond that of a mere conversation, nor, did it waver beneath the intensity of what she did not sense or see. This man that was there and not there reminded her of vast oceans, or, looking up at the stars from a planet's surface. Everything seemed calm at a glance. Tranquil and serene to the point where the uneducated could assume that there was nothing dangerous at all. They didn't take into account the power of a star being born. A planet dying—Or the creatures that lived beneath the waves.

From beneath, it devoured.

"But as illogical as it may seem…", Cybelle returned as she pointedly moved down the steps that led toward the middle of the holding area where Project Jareth had been kept. It was an unremarkable space. All metal—As far as the eye could see. An empty space for an empty man. "I cannot turn away."

Even though, he did not care.

"…You could tell your Masters the same…"

Cybelle had not accepted this mission to kill those in her path. She had accepted the call from the Counsel to do the right thing. To take hold of Project Jareth so that it couldn't be used to harm anyone else, either by ownership, or use. To make the galaxy a place where one more person could lay their head at night and not feel afraid that the sun might not rise. Security and reinforcements would no doubt be upon them soon enough…But which one of them would they target?

The Brotherhood of the Maw had no need to steal from itself.
​

Her arms rose slowly, palms upward, and thin streams of dark material rose from a concealed area near her wrist. Just as she had used nanites to unlock the door and secure her entry she could do the same in reverse. They moved toward the nearest console and one by one doors to the holding area slammed shut. An eerie quiet filled the room while the locks slid back into place with mechanical efficiency. They wouldn't hold any force-sensitive for long—But they would hold, long enough.

"Please do not interpret this as an act of hostility…You may still leave." A pause. Her lips pressed into a ghostly thin smile that was touched by an emotion that seemed out of place for the moment. Her youthful expression was resigned, though, touched with a gentle sadness that somehow made her appear more refined. Older. "Just—Not with it."

Sadness…Such aching sadness… Because, with all of the violence and imminently dead tearing and ripping a wound into Exegol not far away… Cybelle knew how this would go.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

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

Any other time, she would have argued or maybe even explained herself. But there was no worse time to lean into their personal, planet-sized, differences. They had other planet-sized problems to try to solve.

She was already working on trying to figure out how to patch into the console when Sion talked through the implications of her fear.

Her datapad lit up just as she was about to pull something out of it and hand it to Sion. She hesitated just long enough to read the same message Dominik Borra had received from The Agency’s communication team.

//_GA ADVISORY
//_LIGHTPOINT STATION NOW IN ORBIT.
//_LIGHTWALL IMPERATIVE COMMENCED
//_STANDBY FOR LIGHTWALL IMPERATIVE ACTIVITY

"Feth."

As much as she'd never admit it, Sion's calm readiness to leap into the proverbial fire, even at the risk of getting burned, was helpful. The way he heard her explanation, unpacked it, and inserted himself into the roles that she knew but was helpless to fulfil made it easier to focus on the task she'd mentally prepared to take on the moment she'd seen Sheb's mutilated neck.

"Fethfethfethfethfeth Okay." His decision to warn The Alliance in case they failed seemed easy for him to make. Cordé'd lost a whole evening to a morality debate among other agents about which was worse; Warning people they'd die, and then they lived? Warning people they'd die, and they'd have time to prepare? Or letting people die in blissful ignorance?

It felt too much like playing god.

But Jedi were used to that, weren't they? It was only sensible for him to have so readily made a choice.

"Here." She pulled a tiny chip from the base of her datapad and slid it into his palm. "It's a prewritten broadcast in the event of an emergency. It's already connected to the main GADF channel — ground and fleet. This is what you'll boost."

Her hand in his lingered only a heartbeat and a half after her explanation.

Even that felt too long. Even that felt like the warmth and outline of memories she'd banished.

Months ago, she would have wished him safety or good luck (just to spite The Force). Now, she said nothing. Only made a silent oath to not watch him leave. She'd done that on Dantooine and felt her resolve disintegrate to ash.

At least this time there was the off chance she wouldn't live to regret her choices. Running from themselves was a cycle she was unwilling to break. Because what happened then? She didn't have the courage to imagine it could be any better than the way they were right now. The way they had to be and always should have been.

Rather than relent against her stubborn will, she went to work. She convinced herself that time, tick-ticking time, and everyone else's lives were more important than reopening that which should have never opened at all.

Her choice to remain cold and silent stung more than she'd expected it to. A harrowing, stabbing unease followed the motions she'd practised that mirrored Sheb's precision. She traded her datapad for his bulkier, more technical piece; A chunk of metal remotely attached to thin, metal skeletons of fingers that slipped over her own. An umbilical from the central cube extended out and split in two ways. One port into the main oulet, the other into a visor much thicker than Cordé's usual.

She hissed when the tiny pricks, like needles, poked into her skin from the visor right above her temples. It felt like she was the machine being plugged into, not the other way around.

Within seconds, the display manifested over her eyes. As quickly as she could mentally parse the strings, or at least route or think of a program to do it for her, the skeletons around her fingers moved quicker than she could have. The coordination was unfathomably fast.

And immersive. The world she'd known, Sion and all, was replaced with digital cyphers.

The program had started. And it was hurriedly counting down to the call of destruction that would undo the planet below. A tiny digital play of fields and interactions in a vacuum of an all-consuming pre-computed vision, a vibration and nothingness. But somehow, together, complete. She deconstructed it, and it reconstructed itself. Rebuilt again and again.

Cordé's variation of self and Sheb's program continued to search, poke around, where it expected to find truth in the statement that it could be turned off was a dead place. A place where nothing was. Where everything pulled back.

As a program, she reached out, and what reached back deleted itself. Something had been there once. Something had been built, activated and disappeared. It stood out too much to not matter — it didn't fit.

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