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 wind carried whispers of ancient power as Connel Vanagor, Jedi Shadow, led Omega Squad from the desolate expanse of Tython's Silent Desert into the dense, verdant embrace of the surrounding forests. The air, thick with humidity and the scent of strange flora, hummed with the Force, a tangible reminder of Tython's significance to the Jedi Order. But beneath the surface of peace, a darkness festered, a legacy of the Dark Empire's occupation: among other things the Drengir, plant-like horrors that craved sentient flesh.
Connel's face, etched with determination, remained grim. He felt the weight of history on his shoulders, the responsibility to cleanse Tython of this lingering evil, like his father Caltin Vanagor was elsewhere on the planet. For a long time, he had worked and trained alongside Omega Squad, forging a bond of mutual respect and camaraderie that transcended the typical Jedi-soldier dynamic. They were his brothers in arms, and he trusted them implicitly.
Leading the way was Michael, Omega Squad's leader. Young but hardened, Michael was the epitome of calm efficiency. His eyes, scanning the treeline, missed nothing.
Clear your sectors, people, he rasped, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves.
We're not out of the woods yet. Literally.
Gabriel, the team's tech specialist and second-in-command, chuckled nervously.
Woods, Boss? More like a Drengir buffet waiting to happen. Normally not one to question, he fiddled with his wrist-mounted datapad, checking their coordinates.
Still on course for the waterfalls, ETA approximately one hour.
Make it half, Azrael, the demolitions expert, snorted. He was a walking arsenal, a chaotic blend of brilliance and barely-contained mania.
These overgrown shrubs aren't going to blow themselves up. He nudged Gabriel playfully.
Relax, Gabe, even if they do get you, I'll make sure they go out with a bang, but killing these don’t count towards your yearly ‘salad’.
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
Why yo… Real comforting, Az. Always a pleasure.
Behind them, Raphael, the heavy weapons specialist, moved with a serene grace that belied his destructive potential. He carried “Bertha” a modified Z-6 rotary blaster cannon with an almost meditative calm.
Patience, brothers, he murmured.
The forest listens. Let us not disturb its slumber unnecessarily.
Sariel, the team sniper, brought up the rear. His gaze was sharp, his movements economical. He was a man of few words, and those words were usually laced with venom.
Keep your heads down, he growled.
Anything moves, it dies.
Jeremiel, the secondary sniper and corpsman, walked beside Sariel. He was compassionate, his hands skilled at healing, but beneath his gentle demeanor lay a simmering anger fueled by the horrors he had witnessed.
Easy, Sariel, he cautioned.
Not everything wants to kill us.
Man, Sariel… I’m glad you’re on our side… Then he muttered
... serial killer… under his breath next to Gabriel.
They were executing a tactical retreat currently, a false flag, leading a massive Elder Drengir away from the Silent Desert and deeper into the forest where they could control the fight. This did not seem “tactically smart” but a plan was set up. This Elder, a grotesque behemoth of vines and thorns, had been shadowing them, its hunger a palpable presence in the Force.
Elder's still following, Connel reported, his brow furrowed. He could feel the creature's malevolent will, its single-minded obsession with devouring them.
It's taking the bait.
Good, Michael said grimly.
The deeper we lead it, the less chance it has of doubling back and ambushing Von Ascania's team.
Corazona von Ascania
and her squad of Jedi were their objective. They were engaging Sithspawn near the waterfalls closer to the Temple, studying the Drengir's behavior and searching for a way to eradicate them. Omega Squad's mission was to clear a path and ensure their safe extraction.
As they moved deeper into the forest, the Drengir grew bolder. Smaller, more agile versions of the Elder emerged from the undergrowth, their thorny vines lashing out with surprising speed.
Contact! Sariel barked, his sniper rifle cracking. One of the Drengir withered and collapsed, its lifeblood seeping into the soil.
Azrael, give them a taste of your medicine! Michael ordered.
Azrael grinned, pulling a thermal detonator from his belt.
Boom, Baby! He lobbed the detonator into a cluster of approaching Drengir. The explosion ripped through the forest, incinerating the creatures in a burst of fire and shrapnel.
But they kept coming. The Drengir swarmed them, their numbers seemingly endless. Connel ignited his lightsaber, its blue blade humming with power. He moved through the forest like a whirlwind, deflecting vines and cleaving through the Drengir with swift, precise strikes.
Raphael unleashed a torrent of fire from his Z-6, mowing down the creatures with unrelenting force. Gabriel used his hacking skills to disrupt the Drengir's communications, sowing confusion among their ranks. Jeremiel tended to the wounded, his hands moving with practiced efficiency.
The Elder Drengir, drawn by the chaos, lumbered through the trees, its massive form crushing everything in its path. Its presence was a suffocating blanket of darkness, a chilling reminder of the power they faced.
We need to keep moving! Michael shouted above the din of battle.
We can't afford to get bogged down here!
They continued their retreat, fighting a desperate rearguard action. The forest floor was littered with the remnants of battle, with scorched earth and shattered vines. The air was thick with the stench of burning plant matter and the metallic tang of blood.
As they moved, the sounds of the waterfalls were getting more and more prevalent, and the forest began to change. The trees grew taller, their branches draped with moss and vines. The air was cooler, and the sound of rushing water filled their ears.
We're almost there, Gabriel said, his voice strained.
von Ascania's team should be just ahead.
Suddenly, the Elder Drengir surged forward, its massive vines lashing out with renewed ferocity. It was tired of the game, tired of the chase. It wanted to end this now. Connel glared, his face grim. He angled his lightsaber and charged towards the Elder Drengir, hos shortsaber held behind him, his movements a blur of blue and violet light. He leaped and somersaulted, deflecting the creature's attacks with acrobatic grace.
The Elder Drengir roared in frustration, its vines flailing wildly. Connel led it away from the team, deeper into the forest towards the waterfalls.
Now! Michael commanded.
Let's finish this!
The team unleashed a coordinated assault, hitting the Drengir from all sides. Azrael detonated a series of strategically placed explosives, creating a wall of fire that forced the creatures back. Raphael unleashed a barrage of blaster fire, tearing through their ranks. Sariel and Jeremiel picked off the stragglers with deadly precision.
As the last of the Drengir fell, Omega Squad regrouped, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. They were exhausted, but they had survived.
Connel? Michael called out, his voice filled with concern.
Connel emerged from the trees, his lightsabers extinguished. He was unharmed, but his mannerisms were troubled.
The Elder…it's gone, he said.
Gone? Michael asked, confused.
Where did it go?
Connel shook his head.
There. He pointed in a general direction, it was all he could pick up through the Force. A chill ran down Michael's spine. He knew that the Drengir were cunning and resourceful. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was not the end. That the Elder Drengir was still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike.
Let's get to von Ascania's team, he said, his voice hardening.
We need to warn them. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.
As they made their way for the waterfalls, they could see a camp made by Jedi, was it Von Ascania's team? Couldn’t be sure, but something was wrong. The camp was deserted, and the air was heavy with an unsettling silence.
Where is everyone? Gabriel whispered, his voice filled with dread.
Connel reached out with the Force, his eyes widening in horror.
They're gone, he said.
All of them…taken.
Then the words “Help me!” could be heard, some… like Azrael would think of the scream as sounding “comical” but there was no time for that now. It was coming the way of the waterfalls. Was that where the Elder Drengir was? Did it matter?
Connel knew what they had to do. They had to find Von Ascania's team and whoever made this camp and rescue them. But he also knew that they were walking into a trap. The Drengir were waiting for them. But they were Omega Squad, even Connel, who was considered one of them. They didn't run from a fight. They faced it head-on, even when the odds were stacked against them.
Omega Squad, Michael said, his voice resolute.
Prepare for battle. We're going in. They moved forward, towards the heart of darkness, towards the unknown horrors that awaited them. They were protectors and they would not rest until the Drengir were eradicated and the planet was safe once more.
Then, as if on cue, they had stumbled onto a nest of Drengir… Connel was done playing around… his lightsabers engaged, he charged.
Enough of this crap!
D1-C3
