Junction [GA/SO] Unhallowed Front | GA/SO Junction of Yvara & Epica

[Andragnath]

OBJECTIVE II - CELANON
Damian A. Drake
​

Andragnath was far from a combatant- at her core she was a traveler, a simple scholar and theologian. She was here, in core, to do field research on how the Sith operate on a grand scale, how they treat their enemies and how they deal in warfare. To say that today had been an educational experience would be an understatement, as during that brief moment where she was tumbling through the atmosphere- she was given a chance to see the destruction that the Sith had wrought. Miles of burning buildings and laser cannon blasts- hordes of shambling figures choking the streets. Both military and civilian targets were reduced to ash.

She did not come here to be a warrior, but to be an observer- she was hopeful that she wouldn’t find herself in a situation like this- but the spy was upon her faster than she was able to react. A mess of grapples and powercells charging, for the briefest moment she thought that this was where she would meet her end, if he had been a more ruthless opponent it would have been. Her mind was swimming with the destruction, chaos, and sudden assault. Still disoriented from the landing itself.

Arm pinned, she let out a gasp through gritted teeth out of pure instinctive shock, her fur stood on end as the blaster’s barrel found a home against the back of her neck- the lightsaber still humming in her hand. She had options, and they all ran through her head at once.

The obvious one would be to flick the snap-lock on her saber and let the hinge swing back, cleaving the man from bottom to top with very little effort. But there was no hate in the Force, only desperation… undercurrents of hope.

He didn’t wish to be in this situation either.

The molten presence of the Force erupted through her body in a wave, and while rough and forceful, it was a poor excuse for an execution of the ability. The equivalent of a rather strong shove emanating from the center of her mass. Hopefully, it would send Damian to the floor, or at least give them some distance.

Should it break his hold, she would turn to the man, holding her saber low- with the tip nearly kissing the ground, a traditional fool’s guard.

“I’m not your foe. Lower the blaster.”.

​

​

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Spoiler: Equipment

Outfit: Training Clothes, Dark Valkyrie Armor*, Blood infused Liquid Laminanium Bracelets
Weapons: Svikin Hjörtu, Ancient Lightsaber, Old Owners Lightsaber, Fathers Lightsaber, Trandoshan Jedi's Lightsaber, Bag of long fused Thermal Detonators

Tags -
Allies: Darth Carnifex | Sarlow Zambrano | Lina Ovmar
Local: Thurion Heavenshield | Vulpesen | Zark San Tekka |
Engaging: Tracyn Ordo

Epic Score - Unlimited Power

​

Sweat ran down her forehead in beads that captured black locks to the woman's pale face. Though his scream was nothing but music to her ears. His clothes burned and shredded leaving nothing hidden under cloth. She could see clearly where the strikes needed to land from now. Though she was getting slowly tired. Not so physically but that last attack took a lot of energy condensed quickly.

The woman's body shifted with each breath the movement of her wings exaggerating it given where they stem from and how they hold themselves up. Regardless she still drew breath, had a task and something to protect. Battle pushed around them the front lines finding themselves pushed back inch by inch. The remaining Vorpal Valkyries above ran their strikes causing discourse in locations the enemy is trying to fill.

Teresa had to hold this jedi here long enough to surround and capture or kill him, if the opportunity did not present itself sooner. It was already hard enough, the fether was as tenacious as she was. Their eyes met as he laid there for a moment, before his speedy recovery. She never left her stance the Blackened Valkyrie knew well even a downed opponent was still a threat.

Golden orange eyes watched closely as the Jedi scrambled towards her in haste, the snap hiss of a green blade springing to life. It began to arch up to her but Teresa's instincts screamed out loud. Both arms where already in motion as if everything in that moment slowed down.

Had her reflexes not heightened in that moment Teresa might not have been able to notice in time. There would have been no way to have seen the fist that broke through the fanned light aimed for her stomach. In panicked reaction, her blades changed course coming together in an upside down V pressing against the bracers of the opponent with one push of the force they shot down to pin him.

Something stirred in her as the gaze that flashed up was filled intencity. No longer was she pulling from passionate emotion, it stemmed further than simple anger too. Pure unbridled wrath surged and trembled the force somewhat more... clear. One hand held their grip on the sabers as she pulled her fist back and threw it hard into the jedi's face. "Disgusting, fething, jedi!" She spat out with malice.

The woman's fist reeled back all the way her wing even moving similarly. "I'll fething kill you, and if you survive you will be—" Before finishing her words they'd be brutally cut off.

​

 

[Ryana mina]

Tag: Aveline Cuiléin Lord Blepharon

Ryana looked at aveline as the other padawan touched ryanas shoulder. She smiled at her "thank you and I will trust in the force" ryana said as she stood with aveline she would follow avelines lead in combat. He read the reports and would follow aveline wherever she whent on the battlefield.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Celanon

Trade Consortium

Objective: Escape | Interacting with Makai Dashiell Rolin Voss

Enemies : Zombies | Allies : Not Zombies

Tears were now falling from her eyes, wretched tears that made her body shudder in sobs. Myra was desperately trying to keep silent. Had to be quiet. Calloused hands cupped her face, holding her in a firm but careful grip. A voice. A familiar voice coaxed her out from the cistern. Thumbs grazed her damp cheeks.

Blinking rapidly, wide slate-colored eyes met topaz ice orbs. Makai... Makai. Her lower lip trembled, and her nostrils flared in her panicked breaths.

"No. Don't." her voice was hoarse, barely discernable. The distant sounds of the undead only made her blanche more.

In her mind, all she could see was the mass of undead. Her parents had heavy, motionless bodies over her as she tried to crawl from underneath them. The blood and mud splattered over her. The cry of a man and blaster shots ignited the air. Rough hands grabbed her as a man fell beside her, holding her close, pulling her out from under her dead mother's grasp. Oh, how Myra clung to him then, wrapping her arms around the Tetan's neck as if he were the sole means to escape, which he was.

"Can't lose you too. Please." She was begging, holding him tightly.

Thirty-Seven pulled out the electrostaff hidden in his arm. The phrik weapon gave a buzz and shone blue as he activated it. [ It is time to execute this plan, sir.] The droid reminded Makai.

EL-Three came close, intending to take Myra from Makai's arms. [ Mistress, we must leave for our safety. I know this reminds you of the situation on Drumond Kaas with your parents, but we are much better equipped to escape. Please, take my hand. I shall protect you. ]

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
COMPANION: xxx
ALLIES: Naedira Darcrath | Solomon Telimus
ENEMIES: Briana Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren | Lossa Aureus | Vizion Trozky | Rik Perris

The kiss on his cheek was an innocent, but pregnant, gesture. It was more open than the wolf had been by simply grazing his hand with Naedira’s, but it also spoke volumes as to their feelings toward each other. His mind would always go into battle with Naedira with two memories. Their first fight and the battle meld they had formed. Even as her lips touched his cheek, the wolf could feel their minds become one. It was deeper than the bond they shared, and that link ran deep. The sensation of it would always be different, and never unwelcome.

The second memory was not one which made the beast smile. It was a reminder that no one was promised to survive the conflict ahead of them. Gerwald could feel her apprehension and the storm which filled his mate’s thoughts. He had one of his own. She had died, and the companion which traveled with her at all times was a reminder of the unnatural thing which had been required to bring her back.

If there had been another way…

A small chuckle escaped the wolf, if only for a brief moment. Had he really taken too many lessons from their Empress? The Lord Commander supposed he could not argue with the logic. For a long time now, the wolf had been bound to her side. It was a life debt, one which continued to incur a balance to repay. It was Naedira’s oath as well, whether she knew it or not. Srina Talon had been the reason both of them lived now, and that was something the wolf would never be able to fully repay.

It was no longer a life for a life, but he now owed the Echani for two.

Gerwald kissed Nadira’s forehead briefly in return.

“Perhaps you are right.”

His best investment for the moment was to make the Order stronger. He could not help but wonder why something felt absent. The thought of his mistress brought an emptiness to mind he still could not shake. For now it had to be set aside. The day would come when he asked about it, but for now his attention needed to be on keeping Naedira and his newly acquired apprentice alive. Still, it did not help the matter that he could feel something on the battlefield, or across its distance, which reminded him of something that was not there.

The Skelmorn did its job and cleared the landing, where Gerwald and Naedira began their work. They were fluid, moving together as though each movement was rehearsed to perfection. She danced about him with a deadly precision, taking the lives of those Gerwald had seemingly missed. They had not been ignored, but rather left for her blade to cut. The landing zone was theirs in a matter of minutes. The spaceport would take longer, but its capture was inevitable.

“They are near,” he said to Naedira and his apprentice.

He could feel the light side. Jedi were coming to resist them. They had been told to expect it. Their job was to press through whatever opposition they faced and capture the strategic port of entry to the planet. That meant it was not enough to kill whatever opponents they faced. It meant they would have to hold it.

His eyes scanned the area around them. The wolf pointed two towers. If they wanted to hold the port they would need to control the high ground.

<<< “I need snipers in the towers,” >>> he called out over the comms.

<<< “Copy that.” >>>

The reply had come at the same time another ship came into view. This one was twisted, controlled by death itself. Hoards of undead were about to be unleashed on the surface of Celenon, and it would an army for the wolf to command. His eyes looked for his mate once more. If she was uneasy or apprehensive about it, he did not feel it through their bond. It seemed Naedira was doing well at her attempt to block out whatever uncomfortable thoughts the idea was giving her.

He checked to see if the she-wolf stirred.

A smirk pulled at his lips as the first wave of undead moved through the port.

“Find the Jedi…”

It was a simple order, but one they would easily obey.

“As for us,” he said to the others with him, “We push ahead to the control center and capture the heart of this place.”

Spoiler: “Summary of Actions”

Gerwald:
Killed some NPC’s
Placed Snipers on in the towers near the landing zone
Sent undead toward Briana Sal-Soren , Rik Perris , and Lossa Aureus
Advance deeper into the space port

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: Celanon
Objective Two
Outfit

​

"Are you insane?!" . . . "Inside will be a death trap!"

​

I wouldn’t put it past me to think of something insane in situations like these. Damian hardly wanted to venture forth into a possibly zombie filled office building himself. And just for a chance to know if there were any evacuations they could even possibly reach.​

​

Damian kept his distance from the trio ahead, his eyes scanned the undead behind them and wondered just how they could escape. Another gap approached them and Damian grunted as he jumped after the children and young lady, his feet landing first and his hands keeping him from falling forward. The little girl was crying while the boy attempted to comfort her and the young lady was clearly in need of a longer rest. We all need a break, Damian himself wasn’t ready for this much activity, let alone marathon of roof jumping.​

​

"I've been trying to reach people, through the force."

​

A Jedi? Damian first thought, but she would have introduced herself as one and figured it would be best not to pry. Not like we have the luxury of time for proper introductions and questions. But Damian figured if she could get into contact with any Jedi or non-Sith Force user it would be an incredible boon to their chances of survival. Flashes of his sister’s destructive prowess appeared in his mind and he could only pray to see a green or blue lightsaber cut through the vast swathes of undead.​

​

“You’re trained with a lightsaber?” Damian asked, turning his head towards the young lady. They were in a relative calm moment, despite the sounds of the undead plummeting down to the streets below from the roof they had just escaped.​

​

Damian removed his cape and gently covered the two kids, giving them a small smile to hopefully alleviate their worries. “Take deep breaths, and touch the cape, soft right? I sometimes use it as a blanket myself.” Damian spoke quietly towards them, his smile growing to encourage them in any way. Standing back up he walked back towards the young lady, if they couldn’t get in contact with anybody soon they’d run themselves haggard. And that point. . . Damian shook the thought out of his head.​

​

“I can carry your brother and we can use the cape as a child holder to make it easier for you to carry your sister.” Damian offered, he knew the Force wasn’t an exact science and in the midst of a Sith invasion, well they would need to buy time for themselves.​

​

|| Lily Rhodes ||​

 

[Darth Amarok]

Objective I - Yavin IV

Amarok saw Connel cartwheel in the air and moved to avoid the strike from above, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid the glancing blow to the pauldron covering his right shoulder. Sparks flew and Darth Amarok felt a brief burst of heat as the armor absorbed the impact. Growling in frustration that his opponent had scored a hit against him, Darth Amarok glanced quickly at the damage. It could have been worse. He could have lost what little remained of his actual right arm above his elbow, everything below having been lost in that long ago duel against Lady Venge, when their paths were opposed to one another.

Circling around to keep Connel in view as he landed from his leap, Amarok called upon the Force, focusing on all the loose stones, twigs and other natural debris littering the ground where they fought. Slowly, the debris began to lift into the air, forming a whirling funnel around him. As he maintained his focus on the force induced maelstrom around him, Darth Amarok began closing the distance between him and Connel Vanagor.

TAG- Connel Vanagor

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Myra Arceneau Dashiell | Rolin Voss
Celanon
​

"You're stuck with me now, don't worry. I'll come back."

A quick kiss to her forehead would have to be it. The hordes of undead were coming closer, their sounds louder. They were slow but Makai already noted their strength lied in their numbers and ability to overwhelm. If one caught scent or sight or a bite, it was almost as if pheromones or some type of sixth sense was shared between them all.

Makai was completely confident El-Three and Thirty-Seven would be able to keep Ellie safe and sound. Their opposition wasn't trained, relatively slow moving, and they had the advantage of being metal and impervious.

Thirty-Seven would be able to track if he happened to meet an untimely demise through his chronometer. As such, a contingency plan had to be put into place.

"If you don't hear from me within thirty minutes or you see.... go ahead and get Ellie out of here."

[ Understood Sir, I will continue to monitor. ]

Without another word, Makai carefully pried himself away from Ellie and traded spaces with El-Three. He 'borrowed' a paddle typically meant to disable droids from Thirty-Seven and scurried off in the direction of the hotel, finding it difficult not to look back. If he looked back, high were the chances that he would return.

They had to get out of here.

Mental plan was forming as he jogged, needing to get to the private docking bays at the hotel. Concern was the building would be overrun, he'd have to find a back way into the docking bays. Every place had an employee entrance, especially a hotel so grand.

Find the employee corridors, get the Aurora, grab Ellie, and never come back.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Opps.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Celanon

Trade Consortium

Objective: Escape | Interacting with Makai Dashiell Rolin Voss

Enemies : Zombies | Allies : Not Zombies

"You're stuck with me now, don't worry. I'll come back."

Red-rimmed gray eyes went wide. No, no no no no. She knew what that expression meant. The finality of determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw just before he kissed her brow.

"No.. nononono, Makai.. No." Myra whimpered in desperation in the tight hold she had on him. Her fingers went knuckle white, clinging to his navy blazer, holding him close.

"No.. please.. no.. don't." Fear bloomed in her breast, anxiety overwhelming her again.

"If you don't hear from me within thirty minutes or you see.... go ahead and get Ellie out of here."

"Makai! No!" Myra objected, fighting against Makai, pulling himself away from her. El-Three stepped in, grabbing hold of the heiress from behind as the Dashiell detangled himself from Myra's grasp. Tears carved silver trails down her cheeks, and she desperately called out to him, knowing very well that she should've kept quiet.

"Makai!" she cried out, holding out her hand towards him as he left, struggling in El-Threes grasp. The growling sound of the undead stirred at the cry, and it wouldn't be long before they would discover their location.

[ Forgive me, ma'am, but I must ensure your safety. ] El-Three informed Myra calmly, moving his hand to pinch a distinct nerve along her neck that would knock her unconscious. It only took a few seconds, but the heiress's tear-stained eyes would roll back, and she fell into El-Three's arms. Carrying her in a secure carry with both arms, Thirty-Seven took point, and the two droids began to make their way.

It wasn't long before a few slow, staggering zombie undead found them. WIth a spin of his wrist, Thirty-Seven began his practice run at grav-golf.

With undead heads.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord eyed His opponent hatefully, arcs of dark lightning dancing all about the Butcher King's shadow-wreathed form. They were again polar opposites, each bathed in the powers they beckoned. Light, brilliant and shimmering, shone from from the Golden Lion's heroic stature. Darkness, vicious and hungry, billowed out from the Dark Lord's monstrous visage. Each carried weapons of war fit for the myths of ancient legend, frightening real and terrifying to witness.

"A spiteful barb," spat the Dark Lord in response, "But Midvinter is no more eternal than lost Panatha. Thou art fortunate that struck bargain spares Midvinter the fate of Mandalore." Long ago, the Dark Lord had made a deal with the Golden Lion, one predicated on the Dark Lord's aversion from any sort of violence against the wintery world of Midvinter. Though the circumstances of such pact had long since faded into history, the Dark Lord was unwilling to break the bond of His own word so long as the Golden Lion drew breath.

The Dark Lord's patience, while not infinite, was a deep reservoir. When the Golden Lion passed into the Force, He would come.

Scorching light above narrowed the Dark Lord's blazing eyes, though His vision did not suffer. Despite the shine above, the darkness around the Dark Lord persisted; for it was unnatural and not of this realm. He jabbed His scepter towards the sky, and the faintest undulation of darkness began it's long march across the face of this newly birthed sun. For as the light may shine, so too shall it be eclipsed by unending darkness. For His will shall the galaxy be eclipsed.

They met then, blades flashing white and purple. Carnifex swung His blade upwards, catching Thurion's and locking both of them into a struggle of sword against sword. Tosochkashai and Anarion clashed, the tumult of light and dark spilling out from between the two blades. Both held strong, neither gave an inch. Carnifex struck again with His scepter, but the Heavenshield blocked it. Chaotic energy roiled out from the impact, scattering out into the crevasse like the soundwaves from a rung gong.

"How much longer can you stand firm, Heavenshield? Do your bones creak? Do your muscles ache?" He pressed harder down on the blade, pressed more forcefully with His scepter. "With each passing moment, I grow stronger, and you slip closer to oblivion." The Dark Lord broke the stalemate, swinging viciously with both sword and scepter. Dark magic, the sorcery of the Sith, leapt from the air around them, bathing the platform in entropic flame and crackling electricity.

Spinning back, narrowly avoiding Anarion's bite, the Dark Lord slammed His scepter into the ground. A pulse of Dark Side energy exploded out in all directions. The eyes upon the skeletal visage which crowned the scepter began to glow, and a pair of tightly bound continuous energy beams spat out from each socket. The energy was of the Dark Side, wholly conjured from the Dark Lord's own tremendous power. As this happened, Carnifex flung His blade backwards, the blade soaring through the air before suddenly shifting directions of it's own accord. The blade sailed around, aiming right for the Golden Lion's side.

Thurion Heavenshield | Zark San Tekka | Vulpesen
Sarlow Zambrano | Lina Ovmar ​

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Myra Arceneau Dashiell | Rolin Voss

Celanon
​

The ion striker borrowed from Thirty-Seven was proving useful. At least it was proving better than being unarmed. It gave enough distance to strike and protect while he kept moving quickly.

Makai was finding this was key. Moving at a minimum of a jogging pace was crucial to ensuring he wasn't going to get caught up in one of the zombie crowds. The hordes tended to move a little slower if they weren't whipped into a frenzy. It helped he could stay quiet, that any noise near him was typically from the bombings that were a short distance away from him.

Ion striker hit with squelch and sickening wet sound as it met the temple of a another of the undead. Blood was quickly collecting on his clothing.

Drawing close to the hotel, Makai shed his navy blazer and tie. It was just something to either get grabbed by the undead or caught on something and slow him down. Didn't need any other issues ; not when he was so close.

Looking inside the lobby of the hotel through the half-blown out windows, Makai was thankful he was headed into the building another way. Feet carried him into an alleyway, ion striker meeting the orbital socket of another zombie.

There it was : employees only.

Now how was he going to get inside? Didn't have much time to think....wait, ion striker. The ion striker had enough electricity to override the controls, thrusting him inside.

It was everything he expected : plain corridor with lights, used solely for the movement of employees away from guests.

Immediately he went for the turbolift, keying in the floor for the private docking bays just above the suite level. Suite level....the suite. Did they leave anything of importance behind? Mind sorted through the previous nights activities, out to dinner and back, getting ready that moring, the datapads left behind.

No, nothing worth going back for. Now he just had to fight through whatever awaited him on the top levels.

 

[Xeykard]

Corazona von Ascania ​

Xeykard waved the Jedi back. Easy as it seemed, he still kept his guard up, knowing that even 'disarmed' the Jedi was still the greatest threat to him in the room.

One of the guildmasters found some courage -- or perhaps the fear became too great -- and attempted to rush past Xeykard. Like grabbing a pet, a massive hand plucked the guildmaster off the ground, her little feet kicking still as though she might yet escape.

Once more he pressed something on his belt. The nearest building was an easy fifty meters from where they stood. Xeykard could clear it with some effort and a running start (it was how he'd made it here in the first place), but the guildmasters would need some help. Across the road and three stories down, a landing cushion inflated, a green bulge on the top of the skyscraper.

He felt suddenly an urge to be careful with them. After all, most were old and fragile, and it would not do for them to break so soon. Of course, their extraction -- if it could be called that -- involved an abandonment of care.

He cradled the little Nalroni. One, two, three steps; with a grunt of effort, he sent the guildmaster hurtling through the air, arcing down towards the cushion. His aim, luckily, was flawless. The guildmaster tumbled safely off onto the cold gravel laid on the building's roof.

"Quickly, now," he said, taking hold of his next victim.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

An eye for an eye only ends with the whole world blind.​

Spoiler: PERSONAL EFFECTS

Jedi Defender Light Corvette
"Crotch Rocket" Speederbike
Headset Microphone Comm-link
Vambraces
Custom Robes/Armor
Long handle Lightsaber "Alpha"
Short saber "Omega"
Astromech Droid "D1-N3"

[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

SECTOR: Yavin IV Obj I
MISSION: Defend Defend Defend
TAGS - ALLIES: Thirdas Heavenshield | Vulpesen | Nir Si | @Gress D’ran
TAGS - FOES: Darth Amarok​

Objective I - Yavin IV
(PvE/PvP)​

Landing on the ground, Connel was expecting to see Amarok back in his line of sight. He was not expecting the whirlwind, the dust and debris much of it was hitting him in the face and worse, the eyes. It was quickly becoming more and more difficult to see and Vanagor had to center the Force on his mind’s eye. He had to sense the presence of his foe who was already good at masking it. The last position of Amaroke would be where one of his sabers would extend towards, the other being the opposite direction with his other arm and hand. Sensing Amarok was not working, his eyes and face stung from the repeated elemental weapons.

Connel was running out of options, fast.

There was a move he had only tried once, he wasn’t sure if it could work but would have to try… Calling on the Force in his body, the young Jedi Knight pulled and pooled it into his chest until it expelled in a Force Repulse. “Father” was a master (no pun intended) of this, he was not, and it did not work nearly as well, on top of that it was a drain on him.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

The shadows crept towards the brightness of the sun, seeking to end its Light and smother hope itself, and yet it shone ever brighter to fend off the Dark. A more fitting metaphor for the eternal struggle between the Lion and the Butcher could not exist. With every hateful, deceitful, and cruel action taken by the likes of Kaine, there were men like Thurion devoting themselves to acts of joy, love, and compassion. All those seemingly little things in life were the true guardians of all that is good. An embrace and a kind word are the strongest medicines against the festering darkness.

Thurion Heavenshield had come to this realisation long ago, and there are no lengths he will not go to to bring others joy, knowing it may one day serve to thwart the triumph of evil. It's what he cemented in his children, and they in theirs. That will be his legacy.

Every strike or lunge was expertly blocked or parried by either warrior as master-crafted steel held firm on all fronts, be it weapon or armour. Neither side would bend or buckle even from such relentless, apocalyptic blows that would obliterate lesser men. Only when facing the Black Iron Tyrant did the Golden Lion exercise his full might; his one true equal in this galaxy, he would not deign to offer anything but his best. He would not besmirch what little honour the Dark Lord still clung to by dealing in half-measures.

As the broken blade of what was once Derriphan sought his demise with a will of its own, Thurion held the Butcher King at bay with his sword while sending his shield smashing into Tosochkashai, and would remain levitating so long as the Sith blade did to block any attempt at his flank, turning into a fullscale duel of its own between two inanimate objects, each vying to do their master's bidding.

His off-hand free of the burden, both gauntleted hands gripped Anarion to wield the Elven blade with his full strength and skill. He broke off the engagement with a powerful shove the next time sword locked against sceptre, pushing off his opponent and making a backward leap, the Force aiding him in finding his footing upon a piece of the fallen tower that remained intact, looming over the Dark Lord.

There he lowered his sword for awhile to catch his breath, looking up to find the miniature sun all but smothered by infinite blackness.

"Tis true, what you say. I am no god or immortal being. I tire, I sustain wounds, and I age. The day may come when I am no longer your match, Master of Darkness." Wiping his brow, he gazed upon the face of the lion depicted on his signet ring staring back at him. He held out his clenched fist for the Sith Lord to behold. "One day, this heirloom of mine will pass to my son, and with it, the rule of Midvinter as these weary bones of mine are laid to rest."

What could have come across as an ageing warrior's lament soon turned to a feral beast's defiance, as the Lion King brandished the Sunlight Blade with replenished vigour.

"But, oh, how the little cubs will roar when they hear how the old lion suffered! I pity thee, Foul Shadow, should you face him or any member of my house, for they are each my better in every aspect. You would gladly sacrifice your kin - your very children - to empower yourself, whereas I have poured every ounce of my being into perfecting those I love. They carry within them my strength, my heart, and my spirit. I fear for you the day I am struck down, for there will be no stopping their wrath, no halting their vengeance. They will hunt you down - prey upon you and yours until there is nowhere left to run, and they will tear you to pieces like the pride of lions that they are!"

The sun shone brightly anew, forcing back the encroaching shadows as he renewed his assault on Darth Carnifex by breaking off a huge chunk of stonework from the dilapidated structure with but a stomp of his steel-shod foot and sending it hurtling towards his adversary, following close behind with a downward swing of his sword powerful enough to split the very earth.

Light versus Dark. Good versus Evil. Sun versus Shadow.

Allies: Vulpesen Zark San Tekka
Enemies: Lina Ovmar Sarlow Zambrano ​

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Celanon

Trade Consortium

Objective: Escape | Interacting with Makai Dashiell Rolin Voss

Enemies : Zombies | Allies : Not Zombies

To get to the tower that lay diagonal to the hotel required El-Three to make calculations on which would be the safest routes. Through the streets, underground, or through connected high-rise bridges. With the bombardment, it was a higher risk to take the underground routes for fear of a cave-in. That left the open streets facing the horde of undead, or the sky bridges.

With a glance up at the sky, El-Three made his determination.

El-Three's ocular sensors dimmed and brightened as he transferred information to Thirty-Seven. They did not need to talk when communicating with each other. A clear map of their path was relayed, with data refreshing based on what holofeeds El-Three could review.

If they took the lift up toward the top level of the speeder park, they should be able to reach the first sky bridge. From there, they would take the second skybridge towards the tower. Holding Myra in his arms, El-Three did his best to remain close to Thirty-Seven but provide enough distance to ensure they were not accidentally hit by Thirty-Seven's swings of his electrostaff.

A gurgled sound and the thump of a body hit the floor as the protocol droid hit a zombie across the face. His foot squished into its head as he stepped over it, heading into the lift. With El-Three secure inside with Myra, the bloody droid hit the button to shut the door with a small hiss.

Lovely elevator music played. It was quite nice.

 

[Sarlow Zambrano]

​

Lina's mere presence was enough to draw Sarlow to her side. The Panathan Prince's bestial form landed nearby, and as he closed the distance, the transformation back to his human shape unfolded. Shirt torn, cape in tatters, his pants' cuffs were ragged on the edges, and boots missing, Sarlow presented a rugged appearance. A five o'clock shadow graced his face, and he ran his hands through his shaggy hair, pushing back stray locks as he came face to face with his beloved. Caressing her cheek, his thumb traced where she had been cut. Inclining his head, he leaned forward, softly kissing Lina's lips and whispering as their kiss parted, "Do not let him compromise our future." The Prince's tone was warm and soft, his eyes returning to their natural azure haze.

Stepping back, Sarlow tucked a hand beneath Lina's chin. "Jedi like him are arrogant, believing they cannot be touched. Remind him that he can bleed, just like you and me," he whispered in the old Sith tongue. Taking a few more steps away, one hand fell to his side, while the other outstretched, summoning his lightsaber back to his side. "I'll keep the old man occupied," Sarlow continued, "he's rather entertaining to keep around," referring to his mark that day, the old Jedi Master Zark San Tekka. Finally, to Lina, "victory to thee, imzadi."

The Prince then directed his attention to his adversary. "Alright then, Jedi, let us continue where we left off. But first, my apologies for my previous display. I hope you're not too badly injured; it would be a waste of such a good opponent." Sarlow's charming smile accompanied his words, embodying the dark charisma that marked his presence.

Engaging: Zark San Tekka
Allies: Darth Carnifex | Lina Ovmar
Opponents: Vulpesen | Thurion Heavenshield
​

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Myra Arceneau Dashiell | Rolin Voss

Celanon
​

Soft music echoed through the turbolift as he waited patiently, a stark contrast to the horde of undead outside.

There was a touch of nerves now. Makai didn't know what awaited him on the other side of the turbolift. If one of their droids would have been able to come along then it would have been seamless to hack into the working holofeeds or security system of the hotel to check the surroundings before the doors opened.

Ion striker twirled in his hand, getting a tight grip as the doors opened with a hiss. Waiting for him on the other side were the two valets that had been working the private docking level, now part of the undead horde.

Makai easily dispatched both without hesitation. The pair had been great when he and Ellie had arrived, Makai had spent some time joking that an extra watchful eye was needed on the Aurora Dawn as he relayed the tale of Queen Empress Ringo.

It was a shame they didn't make it.

The docking level was quiet, most of the ships had left their berth. Even before the outbreak, not many had been docked, the service saved for those staying in the executive suites.

Jogging to the Aurora, he checked his wrist chrono, quickly sending a message to Thirty-Seven he was nearly done. No need to call the droid, worried any noise would hurt chances of escape.

Ion striker took out a mechanic as he willed the ramp to go down faster, hopping up inside once there was enough room.

Ramp slapped closed, he rushed into the cockpit, sliding in the pilots seat. As the son of two fight pilots, he hoped some of their skills had rubbed off on him.

 

[Tracyn Ordo]

IT AWAKENS
Yavin IV
Fighting: Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax

​

Her fist collided with his face with a hardened crunch. He turned his head, spitting blood as she pressed downward on his vambrace. She began to speak, recoiling her fist back.

He let out a savage scream, his ferocity coming off of him. He was close to losing control. He wasn't off the cliff yet- but a few more moments, and he'd be a farcry from the usual calm man he was. She began to speak. Her words twisted with malice, hatred. The murder of innocents. He didn't like them. He damn near hated them.

So when she started to speak, started to talk. Threatened him. Threatened his compatriots. Him. All goodness in the world.

He recoiled his head back, and slammed his forehead into hers, aiming for her eyebrow to cut her- to make her bleed.

"You talk too much."

With his free hand not caught in a guard held down by the force, he pulled his hilt-adorned hand close to his ribcage, tucked his fist under his arm- and shot straight upwards, hilt in hand. A savage, violent uppercut. Blood pooled into his mouth from her strike to his face. He was cut along his cheek, and he could feel it on the left side of his face. It'd swell in a moment, and he'd be wary to avoid her being on the left side. She could also see it.

​

 

[Damian A. Drake]

STREETS - INNER CITY - CELANON
Andragnath || @-----

His balance shifted before completely losing it. The gravity of the world pulled down his upper body as his legs lost all measure of composure. Like a raw heat over his body, his opponent's telekinetic power forced him to hit the ground. In the few split moments before that, Drake had to make a call. Either he pull his combatant down to the ground with him and risk being skewered in the rough and tumble collapse or he could let go and adjust his aim upon hitting the ground.

Letting go of her arm, Drake chose the latter. Landing on his behind and back, Drake gritted his teeth and shrugged off the stinging sensation of pressure on old and new wounds before raising himself up and aiming his blaster straight at the lightsaber duelist. His eyes briefly snapping away from the armored foe and towards her guard before snapping back to the armored individual.

Muffled under the helmet, one of Drake's eyebrow rose a millimeter. Not his foe? Lower the blaster? This was not his first rodeo.

Although, as the fog and smoke cleared, his glasses began honing in and analyzing the armor. Blackguard make. The Blackguard were nowhere near as terrible as the Sith, but according to what he knew, they dealt with the dark side and light side of the Force in equal measure. Perhaps there was something in the armor's appearance that might give him a clue as to her rank and station. Regardless, his gaze remained cold and hardened.

For all he knew, the person may have ripped off the armor off a Blackguard. Sith enjoyed their trophies and intimidating armors. Still, there were pieces of information that did not fit. Her guard, her tone, the way she carried herself.

"Prove it and drop your saber," Drakes toned remained level yet resolute. This was not something he was going to budge on especially not with the Sith attack.

"I have no reason to trust you yet, Blackguard."​