Faction [GA | DE/ER] End of the Core Wars

[D1-C3]

Tag: Colette​

Dice's answer was in the form of an opening panel, and presenting a welding tool.

"We. Help!"

Homes could be fixed. He was good at fixing. Jonyna saw it as paying back their debt.

Dice saw it as logical. They had came back, and now they must rebuild what was destroyed by those who left.

 

[Colette]

D1-C3

"That's the spirit!" Colette exclaimed and patted the droid on the top of its 'head.' "Come on, it's over here."

It wasn't that far away. A bunch of paneling had fallen off the side of a wind shelter from blaster fire. Given the size of it the structure had most likely served as some kind of shelter for vehicles. At least Colette would assume so based on what she could see between the newly sorted but incomplete wrench set and the damaged oil drum.

She wrapped her fingers around one of the steel plates and held it up back in its spot on the wall.

"Alright, you do the bottom first and then I'll do the top."

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Tython
Objective: Survive
Tags: Everest Vale Corazona von Ascania Connel Vanagor Caelan Valoren Jaidan Shatani
Lightsaber - Pequod​

I don't want to be alone anymore. You deserve to be alone. I don't want to be alone anymore. You don't deserve to be helped. I don't want to be alone anymore. Just. Give. Up.

That was the thought constantly echoing in Reina's head as she felt the fear digging in. Deeper and deeper. She was frozen in place, Reina couldn't even see the forest around her anymore. Her entire vision had just been overtaken by murky waves of darkness. Everytime she had came to this place in her mind, she was on the surface of the waves, struggling to keep her head above the darkness but this time, she was sinking into it. Bubbles of light escaping her mouth as her limbs refused to move. Refused to budge as tendrils of darkness wrapped around her ankles. There was no beacon of light to guide her out of the dark, no lighthouse to show her way out...

"I don't want to be alone...Don't go...No...What did I do?..."

In reality however, Reina was being dragged through the forest. It was like she was on autopilot as her glazed eyes stared ahead of herself and Eve. Every so often a soft mumble escaped her lips, nearly impossible to hear over the sounds of their movements, alongside the sounds of the Drengir shambling behind them. It was almost ironic in the way that the tables had turned for Reina and Everest. When Reina had first met Everest, she had almost slapped her for breaking down, for not being focused. Meanwhile Everest was doing her best to guide Reina back out of the murkiness that threatened to make Reina succumb to the darkness.

Come back to me, Reina.

A new voice broke through the thoughts echoing inside of Reina's mind as a small light shined from above the surface of the darkness. A warmth started to creep its way into her bones as Reina found herself able to move. Slowly but surely trying to reach for the surface. One hand in front of the other. Follow the Light. It wasn't as bright nor as warm as the Light she saw around Jonyna, nor around Valery...but it was even more welcoming and inviting. She always felt like if she stared at Jonyna or Valery for too long she'd get burnt but not with this light. Not with Everest. As she guided Reina out of the darkness, and back into reality as the woman breached the surface of the darkness, taking in a deep breath of fresh air and her eyes focused in on their surroundings.

They were still on the run. Trying to get catch up with the main group as Reina fought the urge to look back. Her eyes firmly set on Everest as they moved. Reina had never realised the glow that surrounded Everest now. The warmth that her friend radiated. That was growth. That was what Reina wanted to be. She knew she was slowing down Everest. In the past, Reina would have told Everest to leave her. After all, it's what she would have done in the past...but instead Reina pushed herself harder. Ignoring the pain as Reina put one leg in front of the other. It was the same as when she just swam out of the darkness. She had seen her stubborness and refusal to give up through pain as something negative...but now it was something she could use as she kept moving. Only affording herself a small wasted breath for a single sentence.

"Thank you."

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Jonyna Si , OPEN)

Further exploration down the Temple's moss interior led to a wider chamber, which Jack wrinkled his nose to for a moment, recognizing the faint smell of burns from a previous battle. Hence his internal bemoan to the scars of lightsaber slashes on a variety of the walls, the room itself having a lower platform to another floor in the centre, the Knight wasted no time.

Fingers caringly traced the scars, Jack frowned to the defilement. The Sith evidently intended to leave as much damage to their history as possible, prior to their inevitable defeat. Petty didn't begin to cover it.

Ask the thousands of years recording how much they're 'sore losers.'

Yet despite his despair at the deplorable remains, Jack's hand gently brushed to his right lightsaber hilt, a spike of apprehension in the Force that alerted danger may arrive, at any given moment. The Knight side-eyed the Councillor, addressing while the workers scanned around with light wariness, "This was a combat room... Easy place for vengeful essences."

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Iris Arani Shan

Zaiya exhaled slowly, centering herself even as her skin flickered shades of concentration, concern, and empathy. This wasn't a sparring match, a controlled lesson in the temple. This was real. Blood soaked into the dirt, the acrid scent of burning metal and flesh still lingered in the air and the groans of the wounded pressed in on all sides.

She had to move -- and she had to face decisions. Decisions that would determine life or death.

Falling in step with Iris, Zaiya reached for the Force, letting it flow through her like a cooling current. She let it steady her hands as she knelt beside the first patient, a young soldier barely older than her, clutching a gaping wound at his side. His tag was red.

Her throat tightened.

Zaiya then quickly hovered her hands over the soldier's wound, letting the Force guide her. Within seconds she could feel it, see it in her mind's eye, his pain, his terror, but she did her best to try and maintain her mental shields so that it wouldn't overwhelm her. Beside her, Domxite lent their support, allowing the Lovalal Padawan to weave it, threading healing energy into torn tissue, sealing ruptured vessels, every passing second prompting her mottled spots and glowing stripes to flicker brighter as she worked.

The soldier gasped, and the tension in his frame eased. His breathing evened out. Zaiya sagged slightly, sweat beading at her brow. It was working.

Glancing up, she caught sight of Shan, and the Padawan gave him a soft, encouraging smile but then did her best to look at who needed help next.

Black, red, yellow, and green. Red assist immediately and I need to the Force. Yellow, use my best judgement. Greens provide meds and move on.

Black...

Emotion welled up in her eyes, and Zaiya took a deep breath. Red. Look for another red.

 

[Darth Perfidiae]

​

​

| Location | Jungle Ruins, Tython​

| Tags | Corin Trenor ​

​

"And I thought I was meant to be the arrogant one." she said with a coy grin, goading Corin. As the saber she launched at Corin sailed past his face, just narrowly avoiding death by mere centimeters. Perfidiae shifted as the young Jedi charged at her instead, slightly puzzled as to why he hadn't tried to use his Fold Space to close the gap. No matter, she was ready as the saber that floated at her side spun rapidly into a crimson sawblade behind her, anticipating a potential surprise attack as her hand moved to her waist. ​

​

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a third saber, pulling it from her sash as too held it in a reverse grip, the crimson saber flashing to life as it intercepted the Jedi's incoming blade. The crackle of saber against saber as she shifted her stance, being driven back slightly from the charge as she continued to hold the block. She smiled as they clashed, "You would make for an excellent Sith with that killing intent of yours."​

​

Her free hand shifted as her fingers twitched, calling back the saber that she had launched at Corin earlier, coming at him from behind as it lunged at him like a striking Acklay claw. "What holds you back from embracing the Dark Side?"​

​

 

[Corin Trenor]

CORIN
JUNGLE RUINS | TYTHON
TAG: Darth Perfidiae

Corin smirked, wry and unshaken.

Their blades clashed, purple against red, the impact sending a sizzling groan through the air. Sparks danced in the darkness, illuminating the jungle floor in fleeting flashes. Ancient stone loomed around them, crumbling and worn, wrapped in thick vines and the creeping embrace of time.

"I chose my own path." His voice was calm, measured.

The power was there, coiled beneath the surface, a well he refused to lose himself in.

With a sharp pivot, Corin shifted his weight, pressing into the deadlock before suddenly twisting away. His saber flicked behind him in a fluid arc, intercepting the incoming strike aimed at his back. In the same motion, he thrust out his palm - a concussive burst of the Force slamming toward Darth Perfidiae, aiming to throw her into the path of her own whirling blade.

There's a third blade to account for now.

"Push me to call upon that darkness, and you won't live to regret it."

Dagon had worked tirelessly to quiet the arrogance oozing from Corin. It worked, for a time. These new, greater abilities returned those old, troublesome habits. He could not always admit it, but he most certainly loved to fight. He just needed to be reminded.

 

[Jaidan Shatani]

Looked at from a more philosophical, indeed optimistic point of view, Jaidan supposed this was an opportunity unfolding before him now. A chance to ponder his own limitations, and learn from them. He liked to think he'd always kept a fairly open mind; much of his adult life had been defined by a restless desire to explore the unknown, resurrect that which had been forgotten. A passion to learn and a mindfulness of one's own ignorance were one and the same. Even so, it may be that his thinking had grown...rigid as the years advanced, a trend exacerbated by the decision to seclude himself from the Order at large. It was difficult to say if that was truly an error, for his private studies and meditations had revealed much to him. But clearly, even the younger of their number had valuable insights to share.

He'd known of Force Light, naturally. There had been tales in his Padawan days, of great and unforgettable Jedi like Arca Jeth and Nomi Sunrider. He'd even known of several contemporaries of his who boasted the skill, and he'd never had cause to question its usefulness in general. But he had made a career of studying ancient ruins on this world, a study aided immeasurably by his ability to listen to echoes in the Force. And those echoes were not of the Light Side alone. The Je'daii had made a place for both sides of the Force, mindful that Tython itself may rebel violently against an imbalance, and so Jaidan had to do the same, however carefully. A power which aimed to dispel the darkness entirely required a singular focus which he'd lacked, and it was the equivalent of taking a hydraulic wash to that which required deft strokes of the brush.

Nevertheless, to see it in action now...well, that was impressive. And they'd be in quite the tight spot without it. Something to consider, when time allowed. But right now, such as he was, he needed to come up with something else, something with a more pervasive effect than he'd tried thus far, something which still played to his strengths. That in mind, he did not take off after the rest of the group in that moment. His feet, even bolstered by the Force, were glacial by comparison to other gifts of his. Crouching low, splaying his open palm against the soil, he closed his eyes and expanded his awareness outward.

The Drengir were not difficult to zero in on. The wrongness of them was hard to miss, and soon enough, he had a fix on the entire fell group. Moving fast, in terrain which favored them over their Jedi adversaries, and quite possibly leading his allies into something more dire still. Well, perhaps he could complicate that journey. After a few seconds of concentration, he directed his power into the ground in waves, and soon had a localized tremor to show for it. Nothing dangerous on its own, but intense enough to help sell what followed. From the perspective of the abominations, the quaking of the earth would intensify, followed by a terrible groaning, and finally, the very earth would split open before them, a vast chasm opening to block their path, swallowing entire trees into its hidden depths.

He just had to concentrate. He had to be strong enough, stubborn enough and clever enough to conjure a mass illusion capable of fooling all these creatures...and then maintain it long enough for the others to capitalize on the advantage he hoped to give them. Not an easy task, per se, but he could still split his concentration enough to call out the group, via an astral projection gliding along the ground off to Cora's side. A hazy, insubstantial variant of the illusion would be visible to the Jedi as well, hard to mistake for the real thing, but enough to at least let them see what he was doing.

"I advise hanging back a moment, giving them room to move. I'm going to try and herd them, get them clustered so your powers can be used to their greatest effect."

Corazona von Ascania Caelan Valoren Connel Vanagor Everest Vale Reina Daival

 

[Alicio Organa]

Objective 3 - Return
Alliance General Ministry Canton, Fondor
- Lodd Grimmin - Tiber Septimus - Ilri Mel - Lyandra Thalorin -
​

"I call into session this meeting of the Federal Assembly."

As always, Alicio was quiet, simple, and to the point with his entrance. He simply stood at his chair in the center of the room, and glanced around. Then, a brief, determined smirk touched the corner of his face. It was rare he had something to smile about in the Canton. "The Jedi and Defense Force are hard at work in the Core. I say we get to work, too."

It seemed Senator Dod had nothing to fear. Chancellor Organa wasn't one to celebrate with work left on the table.

"Fondor has been an excellent surrogate capital in the days since the attack at the center of our Alliance. It managed to bear the strain of all our shuffling, all the while never skipping a beat as one of the most productive shipbuilding worlds in the Alliance. We may have managed to defend Coruscant from their lightning blitz, but I was there when the building that housed this august body was completely upended. If the Assembly had hesitated leaving... I fear our democracy would've been beheaded, then and there."

Alicio tilted his head in thought. The memory of the building buckling and splitting beneath his feet certainly wasn't one of his favorites. "But shifting our capital was a decision made in haste. Considering the limited timeframe, it was a testament to our endurance that we were able to pivot as well as we did, but it wasn't a perfect transition. We've invested decades of work into Coruscant's infrastructure, it's positioned more strategically, and bears a weighty reputation and influence that long preceeds the Galactic Alliance we know today."

"With the destruction of the Galactic Alliance no longer an immediate concern, it's only fair we look at this matter with a cooler perspective. Should we stay, or should we return?"

"I open the floor for discussion."

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Jack Wright

Jonyna paused as she listened to Nathan Bloodscrawl submit his progress to her over Comms.

Liches were nasty business.

"This is a sith hissy fit chamber." Jonyna snarked as she looked around. "Wanting to channel their corruption through anger."

 

[Drystan Creed]

TYTHON

"Nothing like a little harmless competition to help pass the time while dealing with these things," Drystan remarked, his tone light as he raised his prosthetic arm toward a recently toppled Drengir. The node at its center lit with a pulsing blue glow before releasing a concentrated beam, punching a clean hole through the creature's writhing mass of vines and bark.

"I'd avoid them if I could, but the higher-ups want these things gone. And for good reason."

His eye twitched slightly as Dillon began musing aloud about scent profiles.

"You know it would be a lot better if we actually knew what those smell like. Better yet...never mind." While he had never known the scent of a Sith acolyte before, to the best of his knowledge, Drystan would note how there was a certain stench that reeked around them. Something not natural for the scent of a forest.

Soon, they reached the edge of the forest, where the towering trees gave way to a cliff that overlooked a wide, grassy plain. It was an abrupt change—lush forest behind them, open field ahead.

In the distance, a structure loomed—worn, cracked, and blanketed in vines, but still standing. A temple, maybe. Not ruined, but long since abandoned. And yet…

"Odd," Drystan murmured, narrowing his eyes. "Looks like most of the Drengir I saw here are gone. Even a temple that size couldn't hold them all."

He scanned the horizon again. There were still a few shambling shapes in the plains, but nothing close to the numbers he remembered. Something had changed.

He glanced to Braze and Dillon.

"What do you guys think?"

Braze Dillon Kai'el

 

[Ilri Mel]

(Tags: Alicio Organa , Lodd Grimmin , Tiber Septimus , Lyandra Thalorin )

"Chancellor." Taking that as her cue, the vibrant Senator from Kiffu raised her voice in modicrm professionalism, black tresses swayed slightly from the hint of movement by lifting her head. "One of the first pivotal discussions to be addressed for the question of returning our central political powerbase to Coruscant is practicality. While the decision to evacuate to Fondor had been done in haste, perhaps it would serve more beneficiary in the long run."

Passing a respectful nod among her peers, Ilri saw the need to clarify before someone responded.

"Coruscant, while having been the heart of the Alliance and its many predecessors, has also proven to our downfall for comfortable complacancy. I would question the wisdom of proceeding back with due haste."

 

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Post 2

The Sorceress of Ossus quietly observed her adopted Son from the comfort of a Stone Throne in an ancient arena on the home world of her namesake.

Morris Crownwraithe, someday to be Nathan Bloodscrawl once more, waited in dark gray training robes, holding a wooden staff.

His eyes were a soulless total white, mouth covered by a red bandana.

The Sorceress wished to test him against her other conversions. None had been as strong, as naturally physically powerful as he had been.

Her blood spells functioned in much the same way as standard energy suppression fields designed to reduce the damage dealt by weaponry. The most her charges might suffer is a mild sting or welt in training against one another.

It would be him against three of her best Deputies. Padawans found injured or near death and unresponsive. She had altered them with her blood. Reforged them into warriors of total dedication to active combat against The Dark Side. Nathan was the only one who had ever been conscious enough for her to make the offer to be altered. She usually tried to be very selective. She never altered anyone unless they were truly beyond normal means of Force Healing, even with enhanced amulets. She also only ever altered sole survivors for whom no other form of rescue or relief could practically be expected to reach them in time.

Nathan had severe internal trauma when she had first met him. He was keeping himself up pretty much through sheer will when he had freed her from imprisonment in the Bloodscrawl Castle Under-Crypt.

His power had been exceptional. A proud, defiant young man unwilling to surrender to Death. He had lost everything. The Sorceress often didn't know the backstory of those she had converted. The process usually dulled or even wiped memories. They remembered fragments at most. What little they could communicate anyway. Their neurology was so heavily altered by the conversion that though they possessed full mental faculties to think, reason, and strategize at enhanced levels, and were naturally faster and more durable, they struggled to form sentences more than four words long.

Nathan had been special enough to adopt as a Son despite rewriting him at the genetic level.

The Sorceress made sure each one was cared for to the best of her abilities when not on assignment in this time of the Gulag Virus. Sometimes she lost them on missions. Most times she used them to defend isolated communities of her followers, lent their services out to other fringe light side groups like the Academics of Flesh led by the Master of Forging, The Resistors of Darkness led by The Man in White, The Knights of The Reflection, founded but no longer led by her progenitor's Twin, Natalee, who possessed a terrifying command of Electric Judgement, instead a cadre of animated suits of Armor maintained by powerful fragments of the long dead Abomination.

The other Deputies were dressed in lighter gray robes, with white bandanas over their mouths to hide the same hideous disfigurement the conversion process left. Well at least other, normal people thought it would look hideous if they saw it.

The Sorceress of Ossus was nowhere near human enough in her thoughts process to see that disfigurement as anything but a beauty mark.

"You may begin, my young charges..." The Sorceress announced.

The oldest Deputy, Augustine, a chiss girl of about seventeen years of age, attacked the younger Morris with a Training Lightsaber-Tonfa. Slim, aggressive, and dead eyes like the others.

Morris deftly parried her blows with his staff, even as they got more chaotic and aggressive. The Sorceress admired her son's command of Soresu. A holdover of skill from his prior life.

Augustine was gradually worn down...that was when the others joined in.

Turas, a Cathar, swiped at his legs with a Power Mace, and the last, a Devaronian named Kiaph attacked with Nunchacku-Lightsabers set to stun mode.

The Sorceress watched in delight as Morris adapted, shifting his weight to better withstand power attacks or shunt aside strikes with minimal effort. He had some of the most elegant footwork she had ever seen.

She wished she could keep him here longer than was necessary. But he was needed elsewhere. There was a whole Galaxy of Heresy, in desperate need of cleansing.

Augustine finally was knocked out of the fight a solid swipe to her ribcage sending her flying. A jab to an ankle made the Cathar stumble, catching a blow to the face that sent him staggering while the Devaronian received a set of combination strikes that disarmed him.

Her son didn't even look winded from the effort...

The Sorceress rose from her stone throne.

"That's enough for today...you did wonderfully, all of you..." she said to the three Deputies that had engaged Morris. The Trio bowed soullessly and departed the old Arena to prepare the vessel for departure.

She slowly approached her son, as quietly obedient and dutiful as the rest of them. He was special because she had known him before the conversion, if only briefly. It had made her connect with him in a way she hadn't with the others.

Morris looked up to her, and she could see he studied her quietly with that blank, zombie like stare in a way the others had not.

The Sorceress reached out and gently stroked the side of his cheek with her thumb, smiling. A crude, basic attempt at showing parental affection.

"Our day always gets a little brighter when you're around..." she admitted.

To her surprise, Morris tilted his head closer to her thumb...

Present....


Memories liked that were what helped The Template get through days like this...

They had penetrated the facility and had found more bodies, these unaltered. The entire interior flight terminal had been armored up by the Sith. These didn't look mutated.

Sith and Foundation had slaughtered one another. She saw more dead Jedi sprawled about, missing their heads but not their weapons. Everyone kept their heads on a swivel, each subconsciously waiting for the inevitable Xenomorph-Style attack.

The Template and The Foundation Rebels finally came across another corpse of an abomination that looked like it had spider faces growing out everywhere. Her pistol came out and she shot it in the head a few times just to make sure it was actually dead before approaching. As mentioned previously, these abominations inspired an instinctive HELL NO response upon sighting.

The Template, a currently young looking Magdalena in a dark armored catsuit who bore a disturbing resemblance to The Amalgam save for her golden blond hair, knelt to examine the body. They had been attacked repeatedly since entering this old air base on Tython, and Magdalena's team was the third to be sent in.

"Is there nothing else command shared with you about this base that would make the Sith so hell-bent on defending it?" The Template asked the Squad Leader. So far, neither of them knew each others names. The instinctive fight or flight murmurs just being near a Force Spawn (Even though only one of them knew exactly what she was and was trying his hardest not to freak out) inspires kept them at a distance from a near impossibly beautiful creature. The Farmboy who knew the legends on the rebel squad wasn't fooled for a second by her.

The Squad Leader shook his head. "Nothing I've seen about this place in of itself could possibly justify the fight these Sith are putting up. It's just an old airbase by all looks. And no to your question. All Command knew was what the spy drones showed them. Heavy defenses. No discernable reason. We'd expected to route them on the first go. We thought they couldn't possibly want to stay. Thought most had evacuated. But I've seen evidence that their numbers may be as much as an entire company still here.

"Then there's no telling how many were cursed like this...it could be all of them..." The Template mused, rising.

She suddenly doubled over in pain clutching her left arm in almost blinding agony as she felt her adopted son's left arm get sliced off.

Nathan! NATHAN! she called out telepathically in a panic before the Dark in the area started jamming her connection.

She got her bearings, every persona inside her trying not to obey the urge to make the Template tear ass out of there to go see about him. She was forced to remind herself that lives were at stake here.

"Something wrong?" The squad leader asked.

"The...darkness is very strong in this place. We need to get deeper inside this place now, because it's getting stronger..." she muttered.

The Template pointed to the main turbolift, looking pitted and scarred from hours of savage fighting.

"We need to get into the security records in administration..." she said. "It's our best bet to figure out what happened...

Stay safe, Son. We'll be there as soon as we finish silencing the blasphemy in this place. The Hive Mind sent out the message, not sure if it would get through as they all cautiously proceeded through the corpse ridden terminal.

Something had cut her son's arm off! She thought in worry.

She didn't want to lose Nathan again, in spite of the uneasy state of her relationship with him.

As the Slicers in the Squad worked to undo the lockdown on the turbolift door, there was a sudden unnatural shriek.

They turned, watching a floating, screaming severed head wreathed in a bubble of Force energy, it floated from a level above, firing lightning from its eyes...

The response was immediate and swift. All began firing, their bolts pinging harmlessly on its Shield until Magdalena/The Template began throwing heavy green bolts of Judgement, staggering the floating Atrocity back but not stopping it as it raced through the air...

Well, looks like we know what happens to the heads... she thought, pulling her pistol out and firing it as well as her judgement...

 

[Jackson Lesan]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Vera Noble

Jackson watched in silence, his jaw tight as Vera worked. The golden light at her fingertips cast soft, flickering shadows on the shelter's cracked walls, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold, unforgiving reality around them. The girl's frail body trembled as the Force flowed through her, pushing back the fever, dulling the worst of her pain. It wasn't a cure, not really, healing could only do so much when sickness was rooted in hunger, in exhaustion, in months of barely surviving.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The war was over. The Dark Empire was gone. But for people like this who were too weak, too poor, and too forgotten, it hadn't ended at all. They were still fighting, still suffering in the aftermath of battles that had long since moved on, and they had been stealing because they had no choice.

Jackson exhaled, forcing the tension from his muscles as he crouched beside the boys. Their eyes flicked to him warily, but there was no defiance left in them, just exhaustion, just the quiet and desperate hope that they wouldn't regret leading them here. He reached into his belt pouch, pulling free another ration bar and pressing it into the older boy's hands.

"This won't last," he said, voice even. "You need real help."

The boy's grip tightened around the ration, his shoulders going rigid.

"We don't take charity."

Jackson met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "It's not charity. It's a promise." He looked around the shelter, the cramped, crumbling walls barely keeping the outside world at bay. He thought of the camp beyond, of the too-thin children, the broken families, the hunger that gnawed at every hollow face.

This wasn't sustainable.

They needed medical supplies, food, shelter, things relief efforts could provide if they knew where to look.

Jackson pushed himself to his feet, turning to Vera.

"We need to get them into the system. The refugees aren't supposed to be out here on their own."

He already knew what the answer would be. The war had left too many displaced, too many worlds to rebuild. Some people had fallen through the cracks. Others had deliberately stayed hidden, unwilling to trust the institutions that had failed them before.

The girl shifted on the mat, the barest whisper of movement, and Jackson looked down to see her eyes half-open, hazy but more focused than before. She was still weak, but she was breathing easier.

Her brothers moved closer to her, their bodies instinctively forming a protective barrier.

Jackson sighed. They weren't going to leave, not unless they had a reason to trust.

He turned back to the older boy.

"Let me help." His voice was quieter now, less of a demand, more of an offering. "Not just today. Not just with food. I can get someone out here, someone who can actually do something."

The boy hesitated, his fingers still curled around the ration bar. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Jackson exhaled, glancing once more at the refugee camp outside.

The war wasn't over.

Not really.

But maybe, here, they could win a different kind of battle.

"Vera, we need to get word to the others. They need to know about this camp."

 

[Connel Vanagor]

CLEANING UP THE REFUSE
TYTHON
OBJ 2

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
The twin suns of Tython burned overhead, their light struggling to pierce the unnatural gloom creeping across the Silent Desert. A tide of writhing, thorn-covered tendrils surged through the dunes—Drengir, ancient carnivorous nightmares, moving as one. Their guttural voices filled the air, whispering promises of flesh and decay.

At the heart of the chaos, a lone Jedi stood, it was Connel Vanagor. Cloaked in midnight gear, mask obscuring his features as always, the Jedi Shadow gripped his shortsaber. The violet glow of their weapon illuminated the twisted horrors before them.

Behind them, nestled against the rocky ridge leading to the Flowing Force Shrine, Omega Squad made their stand. Six elite warriors, clad in dark combat armor marked with their names and insignias, locked and loaded their weapons.

Michael, the squad leader, barked orders. Defensive line! No one gets past us!

Azrael, the demolitions expert, primed a thermal detonator. You’d think Jedi could deal with this alone, he muttered. Connel looked at him and he threw his hands up as if to back off.

Sariel, the sharpshooter, adjusted his scope. Yeah? Then we’d miss all the fun.

The first wave struck like a hurricane. Tendrils lashed out. Blasters roared. Connel pulled “Percipience” his lightsaber, and along with its short counterpart, spun, sabers slicing through Drengir flesh, severing limbs that regrew almost instantly. Gabriel and Raphael moved in tandem, unleashing a withering barrage of plasma fire.

Jeremiel, the team’s combat medic, shouted over the din, These things don’t die easy! Aim for their cores!

Connel leapt into the heart of the horde, channeling the Force to amplify their strikes. They were a blur, cutting through the monsters with terrifying precision. But the Drengir were endless.The team fought valiantly, but the Drengir's relentless regeneration was overwhelming. Connel, sensing the tide turning, called for a strategic retreat, knowing that even Jedi and their allies couldn't endure this onslaught indefinitely, but they would not leave without a surprise, Azrael had laid several charges, so their retreat was actually a “false flag”.

The ground trembled. From the dunes rose a massive, elder Drengir, its twisted body resembling a nightmarish tree of bone and rot.

Michael cursed. I think we just made them mad. Azrael… blow the charges…

The battle for Tython was not over.

@Cora Von Ascania • Everest Vale • Reina Daival • Caelan Valoren • Jaidan Shatani​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery let out a slow breath, her body still trembling from the sheer force of what she had just done. The Wall of Light had drained her, left her limbs weak and her senses dull at the edges, but she had no regrets. This part of the land was cleansed, the Drengir were dying, and a small part of Tython had begun to heal.

Valery looked up again as Thurion extended his massive hand. The sight of him standing there, his golden blade still gleaming, sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the Force. Ever the guardian, ever the shield that stood firm in the face of darkness. She had always respected him, but more than that — she had always trusted him, like the father she never got to truly meet.

She reached up, grasping his hand firmly as he pulled her back to her feet with ease. A tired smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Thurion." She didn't have to say more. The gratitude was there, plain in her expression. Then, a voice — Kahlil's voice — washed over her, and the warmth inside her deepened.

"You've done more than you think, love."

She turned to her husband, her fiery eyes softening. He was smiling at her, proud, as always. Through all the wars, all the battles, all the weight they carried, Kahlil was her anchor.

Then, her fingers curled at her sides, forcing herself to push through the exhaustion. There was no time to slow down now. As Kahlil and Thurion prepared to handle the remaining Drengir, Valery raised her wristpad, amber eyes narrowing as she locked onto the Imperial transmission. The coordinates flickered to life — a heavily fortified structure, nestled between freshwater lakes. Fortress Chymoelaan.

The 452nd was surrendering.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. "I have the signal." Her voice, though still hoarse, carried purpose. "It's coming from a fortress to the west, near the lakes. We move now — before anything changes." Her gaze flickered between the two men. Kahlil, ever the warrior at her side. Thurion, a stalwart force of nature. They were unbreakable. And together, they would bring Tython back into the Light.

With renewed resolve, Valery turned and took the lead, pressing forward toward Fortress Chymoelaan.

Where they would soon arrive.

Kahlil Noble Thurion Heavenshield Antipater ​

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Jonyna Si , OPEN)

Mhm, and there's plenty of corruption to be had.

Jack could smell it all over the walls, frowning in concentration to the particular hotspots around the chamber, right palm gently brushed ancient stone for a moment. When that's done, the Jedi straightened up, regarding towards the seasoned Master.

"We should get started." No time purging shadow essence than the presence, after all.

 

[Rath Nihro]

A W A K E N I N G

Tag:

Stepping through the set of doors was a young woman with eyes that burned like flames as they immediately bore into Rath's being the instant she set foot inside the chamber. She appeared to also be a Jedi given her tunic under the robe of light colorations. Her boots were heavy on the durasteel flooring as they carried with a strong sense of purpose. The weathered man had turned to look upon the new arrival as recognition flashed across his features, and with it came tension from the way his jaw clenched.

Rath didn’t need to sense the Force to see that the woman in particular was positively livid. He wouldn’t go as far as to assume he might have been the cause of it, but the intensity of her glare left little to the imagination. For what specifically, Rath couldn't fathom to guess. For he had done many terrible things in the name of the Empire, and the amount of times that he had spared the people was dwarfed by the crimes he had committed should they be brought to light.

”I thought I instructed you to sit this one out.” The man's raspy voice had grown firm with a note of disappointment. The brunette spared a glance at the master as she walked to stand beside him.

”You did, Master Leonant, but I cannot stand idle while you question this murderer.” Her last words were dripping with a venomous hatred that didn't go unnoticed with Leonant or Rath. There was no point in the man attempting to defend his actions or to justify them. Nothing would change the undenying fact that her friends were dead. Yet emotions can be powerful and raw when they lose someone close to them. Rath would know that better than anyone.

”Katarina, I am fully capable of questioning this young man myself. You can sit this one out.” Leonant knew that it wasn’t because of his age or his injury however. Instead it was something that was dangerous to a Jedi. The temptations of the dark side were alluring to someone vulnerable. Her duets of blue felt icy cold like the frigid winds of Hoth yet no less intense than the flowing magma in Mustafar.

”I do not doubt your abilities, Master. But this man had bested Laqae, Kesk, and yourself. He's too dangerous to underestimate.” Naturally that was her excuse, and it probably would have been sound if it weren't for the Force Cage in place. The prisoners in the same room were deathly silent as they were more in disbelief that two Jedi came for this one person. A man who didn't appear to be much in comparison to them.

”Ah yes, because this cage makes me so terrifying.” Rath mused with a nonchalant tone. The indifference was enough to strike a fuse with the one named Katarina. The way her flustered face took a deep shade of red as Leonant tried to calm her down. But it was too late as the brunette stepped dangerously close to the cage.

”You will rot in this cage for all I care, but you will pay for all of the lives that you've taken! All of the Jedi you've slain!” Rath was rather amused despite his stoic appearance as he remained seated on the platform.

”Then you'd best make yourself comfortable. You'll find that the score is bigger than you can imagine.” It was mildly unsettling how much of the truth that was laid out before them. It wasn’t a question or a boast, but a fact. It was enough to send a shiver down a veteran's spine to imagine how many of their brethren had fallen to Rath's blade.

”So you have killed other Jedi before.” Leonant mulled over what was being said as he thoughtfully stroked his beard. Rath's only response was a nod before he spoke in that cryptic speech of his.

”They're one with the Force now. But they all died for largely the same thing.” Jedi come in all shapes, sizes, and even backgrounds. Some were criminals or former Sith before the Jedi took them under their wing.

”Please Master, you can't trust anything this-”

”If you cannot guard your emotions, then you'd be more useful outside!” Leonant snapped with a firm tone, much like how a parent had to reign in their children when they misbehaved. Katarina visibly recoiled from the outburst, as if she was physically slapped as she stared at her Master in disbelief. It was evident that underneath that icy heart was someone who respected the man before her, and likely loved the people that were no longer amongst them. A sentiment that Rath once knew, and experienced before.

Her mouth was agape as she couldn’t find the words to form. In the end, the Knight turned her head away to hide her face. Shame written not just in her face, but her slumped shoulders and the subtle shift in her demeanor portrayed as such. Without saying much of a word, the Jedi stormed off as her boots receded from the room. It wasn’t until after she had left that he finally breathed in relief.

”That girl I swear… She’s always calm and collected out of the three.” Leonant commented more to himself as a prisoner in the far distance made a snarky comment. Words that Rath kept tuning out as his duets of yellow were focused on the injured Master with unwavering conviction.

”She has a right to grieve, but if she continues to let her emotions control her actions. She might slip into a dangerous path.” Rath warned, a slippery slope that he had seen too often that caused many great men and women to fall. Pain changes people, and they can learn how to live with that pain. Or let it consume them like that of a raging flame that lashes out at everyone around them.

”I really must be losing my mind to think that a Sith would advise me how to console my own student.” Leonant muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was difficult to tell exactly which emotion was playing the strongest within that trained mind, but Rath could tell that the Master was also grieving in his own way. He was just better at hiding it.

”Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not a Sith then.” Everyone just assumed that he was a Sith just because he happened to wield the Force in dark ways. His statement earned a furrowed brow from the seasoned figure before him. The man leaned further back on the stool as he was perfectly balanced, his weathered eyes swept the once dark warrior from head to toe.

”No, I suppose you’re not. Their kind does not spare anyone lest they deem it so for some ulterior purposes. Or… I hate to say it, but they also do not grant swift deaths to their victims either.” As history had proven time and again that the Sith were cruel as they laid waste across the galaxy. Even now, the wounds that the Sith had left behind since ancient times still lingered to their present time. It was perhaps the only time that Rath’s eyes broke contact with the man as they shifted down to the ground beneath Leonant’s feet.

”They fought for what they believed was right. I gave them an opportunity to walk away with their lives, but to honor their decisions I simply made it painless as I could.” Not like getting stabbed by a lightsaber was painless by any means, but it was a weapon capable of burning through almost anything it touched. There was nothing painless about having their organs being boiled and charred from impalement. Where a second would feel like an eternity of being incinerated.

”Is that what you call it? Those two are still dead, their bodies run cold, and you call that honor?” It was a twisted form of how similar that line of thinking was of the Jedi code, and yet Rath kept speaking on the Force as if it was more than a living thing. He sighed with a slight shake of his head in disappointment.

”You must have felt it too whenever another life is released from their bodies. How their souls return back to the Force, to be reborn in another era. Hopefully, that era would be of better times than the one we’re in now.” Yet the problem was that Leonant didn’t feel it. He could only think of a small handful that might know what Rath was talking about, and yet the Jedi didn’t expect a dark sider such as Rath to be so sensitive about it. Nor did he expect to see the well of sorrow that belonged to a man who had lost everything once. His family, his friends, his lover, and his purpose.

 

[Tiber Septimus]

Tags: Ilri Mel | Lodd Grimmin | | Lyandra Thalorin | Alicio Organa

Tiber nodded in agreement to Ilri's comments.

"I concur with the good Senator of Kiffu. While I understand the symbolism and significance of returning the government to Coruscant, I echo her sentiments regarding the hastiness of the move. The relocation to Fondor was certainly rushed, but given the situation, it was understandable. At the very least, with the Empire brought low, we don't have to move with such alacrity."

"Additionally, I'd like to request the SIA give us an assessment regarding the security risks involved with a return to Coruscant, and the state of things in the Core. While I respect the hard work and dedication of our Armed Forces and the Order, I worry that with this move, we may be severely underestimating the remainder of the rats that didn't go down with the ship."

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Nathan was lost in a haze of pain and dark memories in his unconscious state.

He floated in a void of black and pain, the removal of his arm still fresh in his mind.

A Lich during reconstruction was how he had almost died today.

He could feel the Force Bond he hated pressing in on him.

Syd Celsius , currently being puppetee by the Persona of The Reflection joined him in the void.

"And what have we here, my dear?" The red head asked. "Poor Nathan... always in some kind of war..."

"Leave me be, Witch..." Nathan snapped in the void.

"No." she replied with almost a sneer. "I have been milling it over...and I am starting to think myself not as satisfied with our arrangement as I thought..."

"What you're satisfied with isn't my concern. You're going to continue helping me whether you like it or not or you will instantly become priority one to me..." Nathan replied.

The Reflection leaned forward.

"No." she emphasized. "I have tired of your endless hostility. You have been compensated by the Force many times over from what this Host took from you. Yet still you maintain your endless vow to kill her and, by extension, me, when all is said and done..."

She leaned closer.

"You know what I think? I think you have too much to lose now. I think, this is an excellent time to renegotiate the terms of our association.

"Never. I would rather die again." Nathan said. "This only ever ends in Violence. You don't get to walk off into the sunset after what you did."

"And you do?" The Reflection replied incredulously. "We are both guilty for how Laertia turned out, Nathan. And you have moved so far beyond the scope of your supposed duties I honestly believe you're starting to forget why you went to such lengths, just as Laertia did."

"You're still the only creature responsible for Lysandra." he shot back.

The Reflection eyed him without sympathy, and her reply genuinely gave him pause that he couldn't easily dismiss.

"It could also be argued that where me and Lysandra was concerned, The Force was punishing you for your treachery towards Elaine. You pushed Elaine, who, as fanatical as she admittedly was, never tried to do anything but help you after meeting you as an adult. It was your choice to harbor a desire for revenge, not tell her what she did. I didn't make you do that. The Dark Side didn't make you do that. That was you. I'm wondering if you've genuinely learned anything at all."

"I've learned to handle the most important matters personally if I'm going to do my dirt."

"Ah, then you have learned nothing from your initial downfall except to never trust third parties. All these gifts the Force has given you since your resurrection...and still it is not enough. You must kill me or it all means nothing. What about your new family, Nathan? Is killing me worth the risk of losing them?"

Nathan hesitated.

"There it is. The flaw in the armor..." she said. "Ironic, isn't it? You made yourself vulnerable by not wanting to be alone..."

"Is that a threat you just made to them?" he asked, seething.

"Of course not. I don't have it in me to take your loved ones from you twice Morris. But you are leaving me with very little options for resolving things peacefully between us."

"No matter what I am guilty of, no matter how much I stand to personally lose, you are going to pay for murdering Lysandra Crownwraithe and for sleeping with my daughter, Phyre." Nathan snapped. "Expose my whole empire. That's what your hinting at, right? You'll push House Bloodscrawl into the limelight if I don't drop my vendetta. Not happening. This can only end in blood Phyre. It HAS to end in blood. Whether you bring me down by talking or bring me down by lightsaber, this ends. In. Blood." Nathan insisted coldly. "If I let you go? It would be tantamount to saying I don't still love Lysandra. I cannot let you walk away. I will not let you walk away. I would suffer the death of my original family a thousand times. I would rather die in agony then permit you life after the Brain Demon is no more. (Nero's Fiddle: 90 XP)

"Kill me and I will always be with you." The Reflection replied. "Kill me and you will never be free."

"You're always with me as it is, even when we are apart. And I was never free for my entire existence. The fate you describe will be nothing new to me." Nathan shot back.

The Reflection genuinely looked miserable and crestfallen.

"We should not be enemies. We should never have been enemies..." she lamented quietly. "We could have taken each other to heights of New understanding of the Force with our Dyad. Why can you not see we are stronger as one then we could be separate?"

Nathan's tone remained as cold and icy as it had been when she started talking to her.

"Being bound to you for eternity is a hell I wouldn't wish on Carnifex." he said flatly before waking up in pain, feeling Syd's heartbreak at his reply still. He didn't care.

Their paths were set.

Nathan was led out of the lower levels on a stretcher, barely conscious as he was floated by Jonyna Si and Jack Wright , his left arm below the elbow severed by lightsaber.

He would be rushed to the nearest treatment facility to begin the work on getting cybernetics installed...