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

[Everest Vale]

Objective 2
Outfit: Robes, Field Tunic
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings
Tag: Corazona von Ascania Reina Daival Connel Vanagor Caelan Valoren

Hours prior...

The ship drifted through the vastness of hyperspace, its interior bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights. Outside, the stars stretched into infinity, silent watchers to the storm that was soon to come. The Jedi on board moved with quiet purpose, checking equipment, preparing bacta packs, meditating. But Eve sat still, her hands resting lightly against her lap, eyes closed in meditation. The invisible Light folded about her.

She wasn’t alone. Not truly. Tigris was right there too. Ever since Selvaris, she had become deeply connected to her through the Force, and no matter their distance she was aware of her feelings, her thoughts.

Through the Force, Eve could feel her; steady, unwavering, fierce as ever. That familiar warmth, like a fire in the cold, wrapped around her soul, bringing with it the quiet reassurance that no matter what came next, she wasn’t facing it alone. The distance between them didn’t matter. The battle ahead didn’t matter. Tigris was with her.

Eve exhaled softly, savouring the feeling. The rhythmic pulse of Tigris’ strength was a tether, a reminder of everything she fought for, everything she loved. For a moment, she let herself hold onto it, just a little longer, as she let the feelings in her heart emanate out through the universe towards her partner.

~I love you, stay safe~

She had wrestled with an inner conflict about fighting plants, fighting nature. But it didn't take long for her to reach a suitable conclusion. These beasts were not nature. They were perversions of that beautiful, wild and wondrous thing that she adored so. The thought of such perversions tinged at her heart, but after Ilum, she no longer had tears to shed. Instead, it only inspired a brightly burning fire within her that she could absolutely not ignore.

She looked upon the fierce horrors that Cora had masterfully locked in place, as Caelan began to surge his body with light. Drawing from his lead, and Cora's command, she too drew on that which burned within her. Grateful to her Master Valery Noble 's guidance, she had found that inner light with increasing ease. It enflamed her with devotion to her path, and now she was here she would not pass up the chance to harness this newfound power that bubbled within her.

It was a humble blaze, but a blaze nonetheless. Silvery threads of shimmering light protruded from her fingertips, solidifying slowly into increasingly more intense beams of light that, though thin, were many, like tendrils of starlight that shot towards one of the struggling beasts. As she pushed herself further, she could feel the light rising rapidly through her, burning to an almost excruciating degree, and she grit her teeth instinctively to withhold the feeling.

Just a little more... C-Come on, Eve...

 

[Jonyna Si]

Direct Tag: Jack Wright Colette
Indirect Tag: Iris Arani Shan Zaiya Ceti Jackson Lesan Vera Noble

Over the last month, the Service Corp's ever growing fleet had been fully stationed across the retaken core worlds. The new Lifelight Battlecruiser stationed over Tython had become a base of operations, as the Shining Dawn, Blazing Dawn, and Dawnbreaker jumped between systems as needed with the rest of the fleet, a symphony of coordination only possible with the newest addition. Medical frigates hung overhead, as the Kolto Class shuttles came down again and again with supplies, and came back up again and again with wounded. The holdouts, the dead, the needy.

One of Jonyna's first orders had been clear: We do not discriminate. Civilians, GADF, Jedi, and Imperials alike.

It had been a moment of clarity for her. The Dark Empire was gone. When she started seeing the reports of wounded on both sides, the result of the sudden downfall of an Imperial government that cared little for when the GADF came in to reclaim what had been wrongfully taken, Jonyna couldn't hold anger in her heart towards them. They were just soldiers in a war. They could be tried for their loyalties by the politicians, but it wasn't her place to leave them for dead.

The Cathar herself had been asked by Valery Noble herself with a special task.

Rebuild the Temple.

It wasn't anything new, she had done much the same on Coruscant, but this time it was more...impersonal.

She had spent the day trotting the grounds, inspecting what had to be done. Her mind cast back to the day the war had started, and the day the temple fell, as she passed over the ground that had once been the battlefield between Detritus Ren , herself, and Taam Moghul . It was bittersweet, the thought of what had happened to her life in that last few years.

Then she passed over where she had assaulted the temple during their failed reclamation, and it finally hit her.

She'd survived. The end of an Empire.

It wasn't something she had the privilege to see the first time. For a moment, she looked to D1-C3 and smiled.

"Giran would've killed to see this."

The first task had to be the obvious one. Purging the temple grounds of darkness.

Jonyna had organized a set of Jedi Masters to head in, and do so. Before they could rebuild, the temple needed to be purged.

As they headed in, Jonyna looked to Jack Wright with a smile. "Lookin' for something to do, stranger?"

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Jonyna Si , OPEN)

At being addressed, Jack just grinned right back at Jonyna Si with a sly wink, "Just admiring the view, gorgeous," Before motioning to the repairing structure, that'd stand proud once again. "The Temple's nice too."

Following along for the inner depths, the Jedi Knight was unable to restrain his excitement, walking into the chapters of history. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

His eager tone echoed in a way that'd bring smiles to several workers, "I'm gonna dedicate a whole holonovel chapter to this!"

 

[Rann Thress]

Objective I — Rebuild, Restore, Resupply
When is late not better than never?
​

LOCATION: EMPRESS TETA, CINNAGAR RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
TAGS: (OPEN)

It could have been worse.
It could have been much worse.
Where was I?

Empress Teta. A place Rann had never been to before today but one that'd probably stick in his mind for years to come. Telltale markings of Imperial dominance here, oppressive watchtowers, emotionless grey-steel architecture and the banners.

Oh the banners.

Imps sure did love to telegraph their ownership of an area, he thought as he lifted another piece of a destroyed housing complex before the shouts from the work crew brought him back to the present.

“Casualty found!” A voice said followed immediately by a swarming of medical personnel. Rann approached cautiously, trying not to interrupt the medical teams as they did their work, and breathed out a sigh of relief, “Wounded. Non-critical.” A short cheer, and the team dispersed, going back to continuing the search as the survivor was taken away for treatment.

Survivor.
One out of how many?
It could have been worse.
Where was I?

It'd been like this for hours now. Rann had landed earlier that morning and was immediately set to task assisting local emergency services, combing through the wreckage of the towering apartment complexes of the metropolis known as Cinnagar. The damage in this district compared to the more commercial districts towards the Royal Palace were minimal. The occupation on the planet was rough for the population as a whole, planet-wide, but the withdrawal was something else. A brutal delaying tactic as the Imperials fled the system, unable to maintain their occupation.

Anything the Imperials couldn’t bring with them supply wise were detonated, points of commercial interest, stripped of all valuables. Industrial sectors likewise were sabotaged in an attempt to do anything that would distract the Alliance. Worked like a charm, too. Residential Sectors were sporadically bombed. Loss of life wasn’t the intention, distraction was.

It could have been worse.
They shouldn’t have taken the planet at all.
Where was I?

Rann sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from the scene of the rescue and back to the bombed out buildings. The plumes of smoke made the problem look much worse than it was, but the potential loss of life was still harrowing to him. But Rann tried to focus on the present, to affect change where he could. But the nagging at the back of his mind continued. With every good deed, every life saved, a constant feeling that he could do more, should have done more. That he owed it to the people here, to people elsewhere, to defend them.

Instead he searched for bodies. And with every small chance of inner peace, every small victory, the screams from the dead here and elsewhere reminded him that he wasn’t there.

“Hey! Jedi!” A voice called back, bringing him back to the present again. “You gonna keep day-dreaming? We need your help!”

Rann shook his head, startled, and sheepishly returned a slight nod before exhaling then followed the worker as he was led down a walkway, passing other sites of work, search and rescue.

“Imps held a last minute parade in the plaza as they were withdrawing. Collected a bunch of explosives and put them in a bunch’a shops and restaurants.” The worker explained, pointing to mounds of rubble as they rounded a corner. “We been workin’ here all day but it’d go a lot faster if you helped, Master Jedi,”

“I’m no-..” He started to say, then shook his head, forcing the trademark smile Rann always tried to keep, and clasped a hand on the worker’s shoulder, “You got it,” he said, approaching the blown out area.

With a sharp exhale through his mouth, Rann reached out with a hand, keeping his eyes laser focused on each individual stone, each bar of metal, every little bit of material as he lifted and moved the pile as a whole to another pile in the middle, away from the buildings. Rann set down the pile, breathing slightly heavy from the exertion, and turned around as a worker called out.
“Casualty found!” they said, and shortly afterwards a small group of medical personnel ran over, kneeling down. Rann looked ahead towards the group, studying the faces of the medics as they worked, and as their faces began to fall, he felt his fall as well.

It didn't take any words, just a shake of the head, and all the crowd's shoulders fell as they turned, holding on to the hope of the next save. A few of them met Rann's eyes as they passed, a couple even clasped him on the back as they did and said their thanks. "We found 'em, thanks to you," they'd say.

But Rann could only nod.

I’m here now.
That matters, right?
I’m here now.
But where was I?

 

[D1-C3]

Tag: Colette​

While Jonyna Si had gotten to work doing whatever forcey nonsense needed to be done to clear out the temple of spookies, Dice had gotten to work doing another important task.

Scanning the remains, and cataloging everything. Dice had the unique perspective of being older than most dirt, and remembering it all. One of the things he remembered?

The original temple, back at it's height. His older master, a jedi of much renown, had walked it's halls previously.

As such, Dice's task was, to an outside observer, wandering around with his holocamera idly flicking around, creating a render of the temple as it was now, before they restored it to how it was then.

But, it lead to him tunnel visioning, in that sense.

Bump.

The droid had been idly scanning the courtyard, when he ran right into Colette, and let out a binary equivalent of a scream in shock.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Jack Wright

Jack's sudden flirting wasn't exactly completely unwelcome, but Jonyna's response was that of unimpression. Cocking her hip to one side, and raising an eyebrow, she smirked. "Sorry kid, you couldn't handle a girl like me, or my fiance. Then again, I'd love to see you try. Jenn would love to humble a jedi or two, I'm sure."

One day Jonyna would convince Jenn Kryze to, at the very least, train with her in the temple. They had come to the understanding that neither was interested in joining the other's culture, but a bit of cultural exchange would be nice, at least.

For now though, she let out a chuckle, looking to Jack.

"If you think this is novel worthy, just wait till you learn about my life. You never been to the temple, eh?"

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Jonyna Si , OPEN)

"Ah I arrived too late for the glory days," Jack waved off in mock-bemoanment, smiling lightly in the midst of their travel, stepping over some fallen rubble. "To stand in these walls prior, tasting the scent of Ashla... What I would give to have been Knighted much earlier."

But... All was as the Force wills.

Jack shrugged then, soaking in the moss-coated stone with gleeful expectation, already having the time of his very life! Waving an arm around in eager anticipation, sighing deeply as nostrils filled with the aroma of ancient Light.

Of course there was the tainted darkness, but not enough to ruin the near-purity of these halls. Once they're done purging the stench from the walls... Oh, he couldn't wait!

"I helped restore another Temple on... Oh, I forgot its name," He laughed fondly, waving around in emphasis. "But it's nothing compared to this!"

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery smirked softly at Kahlil's words despite the weight of what they were about to do. He was the one standing guard, watching over her as she worked. It was familiar and, well, there wasn't anybody else who she'd trust to keep her safe when making herself so vulnerable. They had always been stronger together.

Her gaze swept over the ruined landscape one last time before she inhaled deeply, centering herself. The darkness here was thick, woven into the very earth, coiled around the shattered remains of what had once been a sacred place. She could feel it like a sickness, a taint that pulsed beneath her feet, resisting the Light, defying it.

But she was here to change that.

Exhaling slowly, Valery stepped forward, lifting her hands. The Force responded immediately, wrapping around her in invisible threads, crackling with potential. She closed her eyes and then, she began. A soft glow sparked around her fingertips, barely perceptible at first. Then it spread, rippling outward in thin, luminous strands that wove together, growing brighter, stronger. The air around her began to shift, humming with an unseen power — a warmth that pushed against the chill of corruption.

The Wall of Light began to form.

Like the rising sun burning away the shadows of night, it surged outward, rolling across the broken land in waves of purifying radiance. The very air shimmered as the taint of the Dark Side recoiled, twisting in protest. The ground beneath her feet trembled. And then… the world screamed. A ripple, sharp and violent, tore through the Force. From the battlefields, from the twisted remains of ruined temples, from the deepest scars left by war — they came.

Creatures of darkness. Twisted, warped things that had festered in the corruption of Tython's wounds. The Wall of Light was a beacon — and they were drawn to it like moths to a flame. Valery gritted her teeth, her body trembling under the sheer weight of the Force flowing through her. She couldn't stop now — not until the purge was complete.

"Kahlil," she gasped, voice strained but certain.

Her fiery eyes opened, glowing with the reflected light of the power she wielded.

"They're coming."

Kahlil Noble Antipater ​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Nathan's Robes

Armed with: Training Lightsaber (Blue)

Objective: Temple


He was going to have a son.

He already had one in Thel Bloodscrawl , who he had adopted and was working on connecting with, but this would be his son.

Two empires collapsed. And he still had a massive clone army he was still hiding. He had begun searching for hidden worlds to house them on. Worlds in the deep core. World's reeling from the Sith withdrawal.

The pressure was off Kytrand for now. So, much of the Ghost Army was to be re-stationed there.

Nathan Bloodscrawl, a Padawan in charge of a massive shadow empire in the very heart of The Alliance...was going to have a blood relative son...

...with a deadly Force Spawn Sorceress...

...and he had no idea what would actually be given birth to.

It had been a long time since Nathan had felt true uncertainty.

Couple that with him not sure whether he should ask to take the trials after all this time since joining and he had never been in more unknown territory.

And as always, there was the ever present Force Bond to Syd.

It had never abated. If anything, it had only gotten stronger.

He had learned to shut her out of his head, but he could never sever the connection.

Since she had absorbed the Battalion, her power had gotten a massive boost...and so had his...

Since getting that telekinesis training from Caltin Vanagor , his knowledge had climbed significantly. It was getting to the point he was starting not to rely on physical weapons much. He was helping out Jedi Healers more when he visited temples, acting as a registered Surgeon (He had even acquired legitimate credentials years ago). He was getting better at using the Force to heal people.

It was strange...he had an array of potentially devastating armor and weapons to employ, yet his need to remain incognito in the Alliance forced him to remain as under the radar as possible, using only the crappiest, base-line equipment like these shoddy, cheap robes and his battered training lightsaber when in their presence. A Padawan acting as a courier--

(Cutaway of multiple Raider Gangs getting exploded by a Mini-Nuke)

--between multiple Jedi Temples. He passed on supplies, messages, acquired artifacts. That wasn't counting what he donated of his own accord in secret.

With the Collapse, his megacorp, Bacta-Works of Epica, had started sending relief vessels to populations that had suffered the most. And for remnant imperial problems, he was having a bizarre cadre of clones, witches, and Androids exterminate any hidden enclaves they tried to set up in Core Space quietly. Alliance Teams had already found enclaves of Dark Empire where everyone inside had been shot dead. House Bloodscrawl acted with almost unrestrained but quiet ferocity to the Sith Withdrawal, bent on punishment of the Sith. No witnesses in these Enclaves were permitted to survive.

Jonyna Si had given the command that no one was to be discriminated against, and while his forces did discriminate, and would have happily let Imperials and Sith die, there was simply no real opportunity to get away with it here the way they would have liked. They were to be treated fairly, though it frustrated many of the Bacta-Worka employees who were refugees and victims of Sith massacres. Many wanted to let the Sith die on their tables but they were being far too closely watched. But the Sith would be treated fairly.

Nathan of course, didn't care about this. He had no compassion left for Sith. Any Sith. Less an active hate, and more a frozen apathy towards their fate. Only the scrutiny of the Order forced him to behave normally by Jedi Standards where they were concerned. He would have ordered the Sith be left to die on the operating table or left in the rubble but for the consequences. Some of the Jedi could sense the hatred of the Bacta-Works teams at times, and this caused twice as much scrutiny: It was easy to see on the Doctor's faces how unhappy they were at saving the lives of the Sith, though none of them were dumb enough to openly complain about it. The distaste on Nathan's face had been evident in of itself when treating imperials. He actually seemed to get more frustrated the more he saved some, and soon left the Triage tents in disgust, unable to stomach saving another Imperial.

House Bloodscrawl had its claws firmly dug into the Alliance from within the deepness of a vast galactic web. It was making its own rules for how to best fight the Alliance's enemies. Even if they were petty in their approach. Passive-Aggressive even. The goal was to constantly inflict casualties on the enemy, at the micro and macro level.

They were more powerful than they had ever been, even before the Gulag Plague due to the efforts of his android daughter Sera in winning over Alicio Organa with Kytrand's Bacta-Producing Trees, as well as the two giant ships they had donated to his world.

And still he felt off balance.

Nathan had just got done with helping one of the healers that had come in with the rest. The Breath of Lysandra could be seen in orbit, guarded by no less than two Heavy Cargo Haulers who had deployed their Core Ships to the surface to support relief efforts and Alliance operations, bolstered by a back up of one Planetary Defense Centurion vessel.

Nathan didn't feel a swell of pride at seeing his ships swarm over Tython, delivering precious supplies like their Red Bacta to troubled spots. He was only concerned at keeping his family hidden just a little longer, while he searched out a hiding spot of sufficient size for his army. Even now they were forced to keep their numbers low in engagements fighting twice as ferocious to compensate.

He knew that he would be found out, eventually. But he hadn't been caught yet. As far as he knew, he wasn't even under suspicion. He was just--

--a Courier...

(Cutaway of a Deathclaw being disintegrated by laser rifle).

Nathan was headed to the temple. He felt the bond to the Hive-Mind of his wife, whispering to him.

The Baby was due in five months.

He felt an odd sense of Happiness. It felt foreign to his sensibilities, and he had to stop himself from crushing the sentiment. He still had trouble acting Human. His wife had started existence as an abomination of science, yet even she at her most psychopathic knew how to act human better than he did.

He was better at it than he had been when waking up in this era. He could hold conversations easier.

But there were moments where he was still the unknowable Golem, silently plodding through their temples with an almost blank stare as he almost mindlessly carried out orders. Or brought in captured Sith (Those were his closest By-The-Book activities).

Still bottom rung in the Jedi, despite his power elsewhere. Still not sure whether he wanted to be more than bottom rung.

He was here mainly to help rebuild the temple. He had anonymously made donations to the Jedi days prior to supplement their efforts, in the form of building materials, engineering droids and medical drones in case survivors were found.

He inspected the grounds, recalling his own battles here while in disguise, his mystery Clones that had assaulted it helping inflict massive casualties on The Sith. One of his ships had even fired on it from orbit. And of course, there was no telling how many he himself had personally killed. Officially, he had not been present at the temple. The most he could say without incriminating himself was that he fought on the surface of Tython. He didn't even claim to have personally killed anyone.

He quickly found the one in charge after a thorough search of the grounds, saw crews cleaning stuff away. He didn't react to the one in charge being Si.

They had fought alongside each other once before in armed speederbikes against the Sith. He doubted she even remembered him. He took great pains to not easily be recalled by others as anything beyond a creepy oddity in the back corners of the Jedi meetings most times. The Padawans, even some of the Knights, now had more than a dozen different rumors about how he had been recruited circulating. Records were so obscure from that time and the actual people who had recruited him into the NJO were long dead, and he himself had such little desire to correct the stories due to the fact they provided one more wall of obfuscation for him, that it was impossible to know which recruitment story about him was the truth.

"Master Si..." he called out, having brought a sack of advanced military scanners he had scavenged from Sith Shuttles and dead Sith Spec Ops teams. (He scavenged so often for the Jedi he was nicknamed 'The Vulture' by some of the younger Padawans).

"Brought stuff for detecting any traps they almost certainly left behind..." he said, getting straight to business without pleasantries unlike Jack Wright , who made him tilt his head in curiosity at his gushing at being in this place but otherwise made no comment on it.

"Where do you think I should really start looking? I personally wanted to cover the high security areas first but I'll defer to your judgement on the matter..." he added. Part of what aided in others difficulty of recalling him was how he was always business around other Jedi...they still had yet to see him smile, laugh, or even joke...

 

[Rath Nihro]

A W A K E N I N G

Objective: BYOO
Tag: OPEN

For once, the man couldn’t hear the chorus of voices from the disembodied beckoning, demanding, or confronting him about his deeds. How the Force itself felt so silent that it was strangely peaceful. No more visited in dreams of visions that showed nothing except war and death throughout the galaxy. All he could hear was the rhythmic beeps of a monitor and the constant barely audible humming as Rath slept upon the hard surface of an octagon platform.

How long had he been out? Was he still on Tython? It was difficult for him to tell, but one thing was certain that all of his gear and armor had been stripped from him. Only graced with the modesty of wearing a plain white tunic that was by no means comfortable to wear and a pair of trousers of matching colors. All Rath knew as his eyes cracked open was that for once he had fallen in combat. For some reason or another, the Force had ordained this to happen. This much he knew, but for what purpose?

None of which could be answered as he was inside what appeared to be a portable ceramic force cage. The room was well lit yet the design of it reminded Rath of a brig, or a prison cell that some ships tend to have. In his case, Rath was no more than a prisoner of war. Every joint from his shoulder to along his spine felt stiff as it ached from sleeping on the hard surface. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one present either as there were others lined up along the wall, but several were still recovering from their wounds or they simply kept their silence for the time being. They were allies of the Dark Empire, so his natural conclusion that either they were within the Foundation's hands, or the Galactic Alliance given they were the major power over the Core Worlds as a whole.

In comparison, Rath was the least injured as he stood up to his feet. One of the prisoners quipped as they narrowed their eyes over him.

”Whatcha in ‘ere for? You don’t look like one of us.” That was hardly surprising given that Rath had never shown his face to the people amongst the Dark Empire. The only one who happened to have seen his face was Darth Solipsis. The dark haired man merely closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out into the Force as it were, but the moment he attempted to do so he was subjected to a nasty shock as electricity lanced through his body. A warning from an unseen watcher who seemed keen whenever he was suspected to use the Force.

Rath grimaced as his knees buckled, the nerves along his arms and legs felt like it was stabbing him, like invisible needles continuously prickling along his skin. Some of the other prisoners cackled at the sight of his lapse of agony.

”Ah you’re one of those Sith I bet. ‘Eard you made a real mess out there that got them Jedi’s knickers in a bunch.” The duets of yellow burned much like a calm flame, it was mildly agitated, but still evident that the dark side still held a grip over him. He had hoped to feel the Force out of curiosity of what was next in store, but it would seem that fate denied his curious mind for the sake of the unknown.

”You don’t talk much, do you? No wonder you have no friends.” This one person was starting to annoy Rath, but he simply opted to sit down with his legs crossed. There wasn’t much for him to do except to wait, and bide his time.

 

[Helax Karezi]

Tython, Objective IV.​

The Cutlass-9 Patrol Fighter emerged from hyperspace with a whining screech that fell silent in the void of space. A gloved hand slick with her blood that drooled from a cut across her head, as a staunched side revealed blood likewise staining it. Vibrant red hair matted by sweat and exhausted lavender eyes scowled at the... fleet? An eyebrow arose - and then she realized too late that the Cutlass-9 had pulled far too close for the planet for her comfort. She swore - she was certain she pulled up on their sensors as a noticeable ping. But she couldn't afford to doubt, to hesitate. Her hands grasped the control yoke as if she were wringing the neck of some bird; teeth gritted as she sought to pull slowly on the controls to trim herself out.

It wasn't until she realized Tython had trees, that she miscalculated her approach.

It was time to abandon ship, then.

Pushing off the cockpit with the Force, the Dark Jedi flipped nimbly her way out of the starfighter once the Cutlass-9's velocity had gone from lethal to survivable and just comfortable enough to avoid breaking any of her bones, and with it, she rolled onto the ground. Soft groaning followed as she laid out on the ground, feeling her body ache and shiver. She was alone. Her true-father, Count Dooku, perished; she found herself betrayed by her own peers, and now she was...

No.

He couldn't be dead. He musn't - it was a trick, a ploy.

It was that resolve, that courage, that saw her push herself up. Clawed gloves scraped softly against bark as she drew her synthetic-crystal lightsaber, a baleful blood hue, and held it within her grasp. Slowly, but surely, she ambled her way to the closest sense of life she uncovered. It wasn't until she saw the-.

She, more accurately, stumbled into them.

They weren't Clones in their usual armor, and it was that hesitance that nearly cost her, as the men leveled their blaster rifles at her.

She howled in an impulsive Force Scream; Helax's sore throat ached murderously as the men were flung away. She no doubt drew their notice now - even as the men thwacked into the trees and were knocked unconscious. She hadn't killed any of them - but she wasn't taking chances. She needed to get out of here, and with it, she advanced on.

She couldn't give up - only to sense them.

Jedi.

Everywhere.

Her face gritted, and with it, she tried to book it to the nearest starship she could see in range - that of a small medical freighter. It wouldn't be easy to pilot - but perhaps she could find a way to get off-planet. Report to Dooku this strange development ; she knew he had to be alive. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead.

That was, of course, until the two Jedi stood in her way; a terrified group of civilians and medics behind them. Drawing her lightsaber and igniting it as she held it in a Form VI Niman stance, the Vahla harshly answered. Her words gritted from the aching soreness - she knew she couldn't afford a protracted fight, even as her battered frame and odd style of dress, combined with her appearance, definitely seemed strange.

"Jedi! Murderers! Your and your pathetic Clone lap dogs will allow me to leave and head back to Dooku, or I will ensure your death is slow and painful!"

A pathetic threat, though in truth, she had little choice.

Die or kill.

Her only two options now left, she glared at them, waiting to see what they did...

Phoebe Winsloe Nir Si

 

[Nir Si]

​

Tag: Phoebe Winsloe Helax Karezi ​

Nir had been planning a benefit concert when the alarm went off. Some sort of crash landing outside of the concert hall, as Nir looked to his fellow bandmates.

"Duty calls." He said, rushing over, kissing Erika on the lips in a sudden show of affection, before rushing out of the room.

All the bass player could do was blush and fan herself.

Nir had thrown on his jacket as fast as he could, as he rushed out to see what he presumed, at first, was some sith that was trying to get revenge for the fall of their empire.

Then he heard the word 'Dooku'.

Another sith lord?

Man, he really wished he had paid attention in history class. Something about clones?

Without a thought, Nir held a hand to his side, his saber appearing in a flash of light in his hand, and igniting with the signature snap-hiss

"Stand down, before I make you." He hissed, trying to sound much more imposing than he probably was.

 

[Jackson Lesan]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Vera Noble

Jackson wiped his hands against his tunic, smearing more dust across the fabric as he and Vera made their way toward the distribution lines. What had once been a grand plaza, a center of trade and culture, was now a makeshift relief center. Long tables had been set up beneath tattered tarps, where aid workers handed out ration packs, medical supplies, and clean water. The scent of cooked food, thin broth, nutrient bars, whatever the Alliance could spare, mixed with the ever-present stench of ash and decay.

The people gathered here were the ones left behind, the ones who had survived not just the war, but the Dark Empire’s cruel withdrawal. They had been given nothing. No power, no shelter, no chance to rebuild on their own. Now, they stood in long, winding lines, waiting for the bare essentials. Hope being measured out one meal at a time.

Jackson scanned the crowd. Many were gaunt, their faces hollowed by hunger. Mothers clutched their children close, shielding them from the press of bodies. Elderly survivors leaned on makeshift canes, their eyes tired, resigned. The war had ended, but the suffering had not.

A commotion caught Jackson’s attention near the supply crates. A pair of ragged teens, no older than fifteen, darted forward, grabbing armfuls of food before anyone could stop them.

“Hey!” One of the workers shouted, moving too slow to intervene.

The teens bolted, weaving through the mass of people before breaking into a full sprint, heading toward the outskirts of the city and the refugee camps beyond.

The moment Jackson saw the two teens grab the food, his body reacted before his mind could fully process it.

"Vera, come on!" he called over his shoulder as he pushed off the ground, breaking into a sprint.

The teens were fast, darting between clusters of weary civilians with the kind of speed that only desperation could fuel. Their arms were wrapped tightly around the stolen rations, their thin frames moving with a frantic urgency that spoke of more than just hunger. It was survival.

Jackson wove through the crowd, his boots kicking up dust as he pursued them toward the city's outskirts. The ruins provided them with cover, jagged skeletal remains of buildings turning the streets into a maze of broken duracrete and twisted durasteel. The teens knew these streets well. They slipped through gaps in collapsed structures, ducked beneath fallen beams, and leapt over debris with the practiced ease of those who had spent too much of their lives running.

But Jackson had the Force.

He pushed forward, reaching out with his senses, tracking the rapid rhythm of their footsteps, the erratic beats of their hearts. They were heading for the refugee camps—makeshift shelters of patched tarps and scavenged materials that sprawled across the city’s edge like a desperate colony clinging to life.

"Wait!" Jackson called, his voice carrying over the ruins. "You don't have to run!"

The only answer was the sound of their feet slamming against the cracked pavement, their figures vanishing beyond the last standing buildings.

Jackson gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder. He had to catch them before they disappeared completely.

 

[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 air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something fouler—rotting vegetation twisted with a sickly-sweet decay that clung to the wind. Jedi Shadow Connel Vanagor tightened his grip on his lightsaber, its permafrost hue casting flickering light against the looming trunks of Tython’s ancient trees as the violet hue of his shortsaber provided a sharp contrast. Somewhere beyond the underbrush, the Drengir howled in hunger. He was not among the Jedi gathered around Von Ascania, as he and Omega Squad had not left the planet since it was liberated from the Dark Empire, or Empire Reborn, or whatever they are trying to call themselves today.

Omega Squad moved in formation beside him, their blasters set to maximum output. The elite Galactic Alliance Special Forces team was well-trained, their armor dull and camouflaged for the wilderness. Each member carried scars from past battles, but this was unlike anything they had faced before. The Drengir were relentless, their vines slithering through the shadows, always searching, always hungry.

We’ve got movement, Gabriel muttered through his helmet’s comms. His voice was sharp, honed by years of battle. Southwest quadrant.

Vanagor didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. There—just beyond the clearing, dozens of minds, pulsing with an unnatural hunger. The Drengir felt his presence and responded with a mind-numbing screech, reverberating through the trees.

They know we’re here, Vanagor said, his voice steady. We hold the line. We push them into the gorge. That’s the only way.

Omega Squad wasted no time. Michael signaled the team, and they opened fire. Blue blaster bolts cut through the darkness, striking the writhing mass of tentacles and gnarled flesh that erupted from the underbrush. The Drengir howled, surging forward, their bodies riddled with burning holes that sealed almost instantly.

Vanagor launched into the fray, his golden saber a blur of motion. He severed vines, cutting deep into the beasts, forcing them back step by step. The Force flowed through him, guiding his strikes, but he could feel the weight of the battle pressing down. This was a war of attrition, and the Drengir did not tire.

One of the creatures lunged from the side, its jagged maw snapping at Jeremiel. He rolled just in time, unloading a full clip into its gaping mouth. The monster shuddered but did not fall. Michael tossed a thermal detonator into the cluster of creatures, and the explosion sent a wave of heat through the forest, fire licking at the twisted roots.

We’re running out of room! shouted Raphael, his voice tense.

Just a little further! Vanagor called back.

With a surge of effort, he reached out with the Force and pushed—a great wave of energy sent the nearest Drengir staggering backward. That was the opening Omega Squad needed.

Grenades out! Reil ordered. The team lobbed explosives into the Drengir mass, and the creatures howled as the detonations tore into them. The gorge was just behind them now—a sheer drop where the Drengir had no escape.

Vanagor leapt to a high vantage point, driving his saber into the earth. With a deep breath, he called upon the Force, sending a tremor through the ground. The trees shuddered, the rocks trembled, and the edge of the cliff collapsed—taking the Drengir with it.

A great dust cloud rose from the depths. The howls of the creatures faded into the distance. Then, silence.

Omega Squad caught their breath. Vanagor turned to them, his face calm but weary. It’s not over, he said. But we’ve given the others a fighting chance.

Reil nodded. Then let’s make sure it was worth it.

[Cora, it’s Connel… the Northern Ravine pass leading to the old Master’s Retreat is clear. They cannot double back and catch us in an enfilade. We’ll move to the West, unless you need us somewhere else.]

This battle was won, but the war against the Drengir was far from over. Still, in the depths of Tython’s forests, one victory at a time, the light endured.

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

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Jack Wright

Jonyna paused, tilting her head at Jack.

"Wait...what's Ashla?"

Despite being a jedi master, there was still so much Jonyna didn't know about her order as a result of her upbringing.

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Jonyna Si , Nathan Bloodscrawl , OPEN)

Almost tripping up his own feet, Jack stumbled a bit and stared to the Master, wide-eyed. Not in mockery, mind, but rather in bemused disbelief, as if the question was bewildering.

Which... Well, it honestly was.

"Sorry," He muttered, shaking out of it lest he appear more like a jerk and disrepectful to his peer, smiling lightly, "Ashla, it's an old tongue for 'Light.' What the Jedi used to call the Light Side when they discovered their roots, just seemed fitting for occasion."

Before noticing the newcomer, offering a short nod of greeting and returned to admiring the architecture. Giving the Master a moment to address the new arrival.

 

[Phy]

Tython
Tags: Open

Droid Body​

Phy had sat herself down on a hilltop overlooking the damage that had been brought to Tython. Well, sitting in the air. Her preferred state was levitation.

It felt strange to be here in the sacred birthplace of the Jedi Order for the very first time knowing that it didn't used to be this way. Two consecutive wars had left her scarred. A surprisingly fitting analogy for herself. Phyla recognized that both her and Tython had lost something dear in the war. Now things might not be the same for a while.

But there was hope that these things could return. If Tython could rebuild, maybe she could find the missing pieces in her own life and proceed as well. There was a lot she'd need to figure out. Braze was out leading the effort to find Jasper. She was going to do her best to help, but she wasn't really sure if she was wanted. There was a lot she wanted to be able to express, but she still had to figure out how.

So much for meditating. Her mind was too full to even start to do that.

Maybe she'd be better off giving up and returning to assist with the relief effort. Phy was terrible at taking productive breaks...

 

[Corin Trenor]

CORIN
JUNGLE RUINS | TYTHON
TAG: Darth Perfidiae

Corin moved with practiced ease through the dense underbrush, his steps light and deliberate, each one placed with a hunter's grace. He pushed aside thick foliage with his forearms, dipping beneath crumbling stone and slipping past fallen logs worn smooth by time; coated by new life in creeping moss. The jungle was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, the remnants of battle fading into the stillness that followed.

The fighting had ended. The Galactic Alliance had moved in, tending to the wounded and stabilising what remained. Tython had seen another war pass over it, and Corin had been there for its latest wound. Yet, even as the battle reached its conclusion, something had called to him through the Force, a twisting, grasping, darkness. He had felt it in the heat of another battle, an undercurrent of something malicious lurking just beyond his reach.

Now, with the field cleared of conflict, he sought after it. It was much too dangerous to be left to simmer, with all these younger Jedi about. Or worse yet, civilians.

The jungle pressed in around him, thick vines coiling like grasping fingers, branches bending low as if whispering of dangers unseen. The quiet was suffocating, broken only by the distant calls of not-so-distant creatures and the rustling of leaves stirred by a wind that fell short of him. Corin was alone, truly, as he often was. There was no one to track his path, no one to call after him. He supposed he worked best under such conditions.

A shadow among shadows, he pressed on, his senses honed to the invisible threat ahead.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Jack Wright

"Ah. Never heard that before. My people have our own word for it. Lygala, the Storm of Life." She paused, looking over to Nathan Bloodscrawl "Start with the lower levels. Those are gonna be the most heavily trapped. Work your way down, and do your best to keep your wits about you."

 

[Antipater]

III. Instrument of Surrender​

Fortress Chymoelaan was a heavily defended military complex, which straddled a complex of large freshwater lakes in Tython's western hemisphere. It had fallen under assault during the first battle of Tython and, while it had withstood the Alliance forces in good order, had suffered many casualties. Commendations had been awarded to the fortress' garrison, the 452nd Legion, in the aftermath of that battle.

Bristling with turbolasers and shield generators, it could have theoretically held out for weeks. Even bloodied, the 452nd had enough forces left to imperil any forays into the surrounding region. A miserable siege with an inevitable conclusion would be sure to follow.

Unless, of course, the Dark Empire had ceased to exist. Unless the tenuous leadership of the Lord-Regent had been supplanted by a new "Lord Imperator" who invited them to hop aboard starships to nowhere, to fight endlessly for a cause that by all metrics had already failed. Morale plummeted rather quickly among the general staff.

A disastrous surrender could still be avoided... Unless the legion's commander was being counseled by a former member of the former Imperial ruling council, who possessed naked contempt for the Sith and a low opinion of their machinations.

Truly the stars had aligned over Chymoelaan.

The transmission began shortly after Alliance forces were detected in the general vicinity of the Fortress: a clipped and distinctly Imperial voice, as matter-of-fact as ever.

//: The 452nd Legion is seeking terms of surrender.
//: All military operations are suspended.
//: All units are directed to stand down.
//: This message repeats.

These last few years had been an exhausting exercise in Imperial resilience. Alliance prison camps would surely be a welcome reprieve.

Attn: Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble | @Whoever GA​