Faction [GA] The Hapan Crisis

[Dulcinea Mina]

Dulcinea crashed through an Antique shop, under heavy fire by female Hapan soldiers, she transitioned from the roll she had performed on landing into a running sprint right through the other window. It was chaos in the streets, she saw various Alliance soldiers being fired upon. The Hapans massed like locusts on crops. She saw an Alliance team member under direct fire from a female gunner team and sprinted towards them, even as she herself was fired upon, slicing into the lead gunner with the sword, tossing the lightsaber-Bayonet into the skull of her comrade as she sprayed a shotgun blast that made Dulcinea somersault towards the shooter and drive the sword, which had a strange, yellow, flame like aura on the surface, into her prey's chest, rebounding off the already falling corpse and flinging her sword so hard it not only went through a soldier firing on her, but the soldier behind her, pinning them both to a wall. Dulcinea spotted an object being flung at her and instinctively performed a flying spin kick that slammed the grenade back at it's shocked thrower, who was killed when it turned them into pink mist.

Dulcinea retrieved her Bayonet from the skull of her victim and the sword from its impaled victims as the Alliance team that had been under fire came out to meet her.

"You a Jedi or something?" the Sargeant of the injured squad asked.

"Something." Dulcinea answered tersely. "My squad bought it. Queen's trying to Sixty-Six us."

"Damned lunatic. I knew Alicio Organa should have just ousted the fethin' tyrant." The Sargeant snorted in irritation. "Fool's game trying to integrate the Hapans as they were."

"Yeah, well there's nothing we can do about it except kill her at this point." Dulcinea said. "Or kill her employees..."

"Now you're speaking my language!" The Alliance Sergeant said, shifting around in his bulky armor slightly. "Y'know, you got some mean skills there...the Hapans have set up AA Guns in the South of here, trying to shoot down reinforcements. Place is crawling with their commandos. We need to establish an evac zone here. The Jedi in particular are outnumbered everywhere."

"I can draw aggro while you take out those guns." Dulcinea offered.

"I need someone willing to risk giving us sniper support from that tower up north. But they got their own snipers. It's swarming with patrols."

Dulcinea looked at the old tower. Looked like some sort of financial institution's headquarters. Lots of red brick and gold highlights.

"Sounds like my kind of work..." Dulcinea said grimly, giving them her comm frequency. "I'll call you when it's done...hide somewhere.

Dulcinea took off from the squad and began to make her way to the tower. She broke into a superhuman sprint as she spotted a bright glint from the top of the tower, dodging a blasterbolt as she got closer, coming under fire from other Hapan soldiers on the ground, using her sword to deflect the bolts as she moved through debris. Several alliance fighters had been shot down so she had plenty of cover to thwart successful targeting as she got closer--

A rocket impact struck close to her sending her flying. The sword ripped free from her, and she sustained more superficial damage to her body, minor lacerations on her torso and face. She dripped red blood as she rose up, a metallic sounding snarl escaping her throat as she spotted the flint from the tower and barely dodged the blaster bolt that came, diving through a window into an apartment building and racing up some states, encountering bodies of Alliance soldiers and Jedi that had already tried to flee here. She spotted a power junction. The Hapans were notorious for poor night vision. She jammed her Bayonet into it, taking out all the lights. They were not stupid. They would compensate with equipment. Even now, she could hear them filtering into the building, attempting to sweep the area and cut her off. She pulled a Knife from a soldier's belt and proceeded up the steps in quieter fashion. She spotted a light focused on the steps above her, and saw lights below her. Her tactical database ran the calculations...

(Character Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "Another Way To Die" by Jack White and Alicia Keys)

She calculated the position of the light source internally, then parkoured off the wall and flung her knife above the light source. She heard a gasp then a soft choking sound as she softly landed on the steps. She moved quickly, saw a bunch of sandbags and a fallen Hapan Soldier choking her last breath out, the knife stuck in her chest. Mounted on a swivel was a DC-15A . Something to keep in mind for later. It was too unwieldy in these tight spaces. From the time Kha'la Daaray had ordered her resistance, things were quickly devolving into a slaughter outside the Palace grounds. The Alliance would never accept the humiliation of a member state kicking them out in this manner, and the adherents of the old ways would sooner die than give Kalen what he desired. What the Alliance should have been dragging the queen kicking and screaming towards from the start.

Now they were going to have to do this the messy way.

Appeasement Definition: One who feeds a Rancor their fellows, hoping the creature's belly will be too full when it's their turn. Dulcinea thought.

But there is always room in a Rancor's belly for one more.

The Queen was the Rancor, in this metaphor. Fed a steady diet of tyranny. As a Biot from a dangerous hidden society where everyone needed to get along, Dulcinea was too logical to sympathize with Hapan views: If their way was so successful, so right...

...how could they explain Kalen?

How could they explain looking like barbarians to other members of a democracy?

How could they justify their views when their Queen was doing what any man might have done in her position?

Dulcinea saw a small squad of Hapan troops come in single file from down a shot up hallway, and ducked out of sight as the female soldiers got on their commlinks to call for back-up. Dulcinea snuck up on one, a silently carried out jerking motion from Dulcinea's hands upon her opponent's neck breaking it with barely audible noise before swiftly moving through the darkness and repeating the motion. She executed the kills based on her doner's psychological profile: Attack swiftly, without warning and without mercy. Maximum efficiency when possible.

Like her doner, she was not squeamish about killing with her bare hands. In fact, as time had gone on, Dulcinea noticed she preferred either knives or her limbs, though she was not slouch at the sword. And she preferred striking from the dark whenever possible.

She immediately headed back to the turreted 15A just as two squads finally made their way up the steps.

Dulcinea scored headshots in the first burst. Torso hits in the second. Wasn't much left in the tank. Dulcinea kept firing as more squads tried to get up the steps. Soon they were all dead. Just as she had three shots left. More would be coming.

Dulcinea carefully dismounted the Rifle, set it to Semi-Auto, and noticed an apartment door with sealed up tape with the logo of the local Hapan infantry.

Dulcinea, knew that team was waiting on her, but her curiosity got the better of her and she pried the door open with her superhuman strength.

Her eyes widened as she saw a Gold Armored man, bound and gagged, bloodied about the face. She knew what he was immediately.

Dulcinea immediately cut him loose. The stern, serious looking Atrisian man stood up, recognizing her as a creation of his faction.

"You're a long way from my aunt's husband, Friend..." Dulcinea said.

"The Patriarch requested a small unit be sent here on standby after the Crimson Veil decided to get their supervillain on at the wedding..." The Bladed Mystery said. "Wait, aunt?"

"My mother is Lynda, Demon of Jedha." Dulcinea said.

"Princess Mina!" The Mystery exclaimed in shock. Clan Li-Ves was still an Atrisian Royal House. Artificial or not, Dulcinea was royalty.

"What was your assignment?"

"Nothing sinister! We were just supposed to monitor the situation. But it's a different story now that the Queen's decided to roll the dice."

"Who's 'we'?" Dulcinea asked.

"An Ashla Healer, and ...er ...a defector NAM-1..."

"You brought one of those crazy Nano-Droids into an absolute trash fire like this place? Where are they?!" Dulcinea demanded.

"The NAM has orders to disable Palace security to allow the Alliance and...others in..." The Mystery said hesitantly.

"Define 'others'." she snapped.

"A Clan Li-Ves Stormtrooper Kill Team..."

Dulcinea's eyes widened.

"Why would the Patriarch be ready to send a kill team direct into the Hapan Palace?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The Mystery asked cynically. "Vicious Force Sensitive Red Head with exotic supermodel looks? Lead figure of an abusive, cruel, and manipulative Matriarchal Society? Ringing any bells yet? Nathan Bloodscrawl despises Hapan Society. Why wouldn't he despise Hapan Society?"

"And this is enough to keep a kill team on standby?" Dulcinea asked.

"You got a lot to learn about organics, lady..." The Mystery snorted. "Everybody could see which way the wind was blowing with Queen Schutta. A Sarlacc could have seen what she was gonna do. Even if there had been no successful assassination, it would have made little difference...she was always going to favor preserving her rotten system over any Alliance. The Patriarch was only accepting the inevitable where she was concerned."

Dulcinea frowned. There was nothing she could do. Nathan was making an extremely risky move.

All she could do was hope it didn't blow up in their faces.

"How'd you get captured?" Dulcinea asked.

"Got knocked out by artillery trying to exfil..." The Mystery said. "I can help..."

"Fine, come with me, if any Alliance runs into you, we'll pass you off as a Padawan or some chit..." she replied. "Follow me. We have to eliminate a sniper..."

The pair ran out of the room, the sound of gunfire outside growing louder...

Meanwhile.

A tiny stream of mercury guided itself through the pipes and wirelines of the Palace, physically breaking down vital components as it went, shorting out Camera feeds and alarms at the source, until it flowed into a passageway, reforming into the appearance of a young woman in a silver catsuit with brown hair and a slim build, who snuck up on a Hapan and snapped her neck without hesitation, grabbing her pistol as she fell and assuming her appearance, dragging her body into the shadows before walking down the hall, where a group were maintaining a checkpoint to try and thwart escape, and shot them in the back before they could turn around and raise their weapons. All of the Hapans died thinking a loyal comrade had been a mole for the Alliance all along, cursing her stolen form as a traitor even as she shot survivors in the head to finish them off, before grabbing their thermal detonators, setting a timer and planting them on a nearby wall and running as the explosion rocked that area of the palace. She heard blasted fire and the cries of Palace defenders before a heavily armed ten man squad of Clan Li-Ves Stormtroopers walked in, followed by an Ashla Healer. Their priority was killing HVT's, and assisting the extraction of Alliance and Jedi at a distance...

"Kill all Palace Defenders who resist you. Even if they surrender...kill them anyway...no witnesses among the enemy." The NAM-1 said as she retook her normal appearance. "They wanna follow that Queen into hell, the least we can do is ensure a first class ticket... save any injured Jedi you come across..."

"What about the Queen?" The lead trooper asked.

"Interfaced with the security system during my infiltration..." The Nano-Droid answered. " Alicio Organa is currently engaging her... that's a no-go. Our advantage is the chaos of evacuation. if the Chancellor gets more than cursory awareness of us, it could affect our ability to conduct operations down the road."

The troopers and healer nodded and swiftly Naruto-Ran down the passages. The Droid broke into a Naruto-run of her own in the opposite direction, looking for more Hapans to pull a Team Fortress Spy Move on...

 

[Dulcinea Mina]

Accident double post

 

[Nos Voros]

OBJECTIVE 1

Outfit: Senate Commando Armor
Full Kit Deployment:

Spoiler: Full Kit

* Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool

• 4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01
• 2 X Vibroblade-Model 01
• Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series
• Legion Crew Personal Protection Weapon Mark I
• Combat Scattergun-Model 01
• 3 X Modular Hand Grenade-Model 01
• 3 X Anti-Armor Grenade-Model 01

* Bastion-class Load Bearing/Combat Vest and Helmet

• Combat Blaster Rifle-Model 01 with Tactical Accessories Series and Underbarrel Grenade Launcher-Model 01 (20 X Launchable Grenade Series)
• 4x blaster cartridges
• 2x stun grenades
• Ascension Pistol
• Fusion Lantern
• Datapad
• Garrote
• 3x stimpacks
• 3x bland survival bars
• 128oz Canteen of water.

"I will do my best not to kill or permanently harm any of you, but that also depends on your own choices."

"I'd take his deal if I were you," Nos said to the royal guard he was in a standoff with, keeping his scattergun loosely pointed in her direction. "Because I'll not grant you the same courtesy. Not a Jedi, not taking the risk. Sorry." He said matter-of-factly.

The wavering peace made Nos's job incredibly simple. Either Chancellor Organa defeats the queen with honor, or Nos would detain the queen with an additional charge of assault on the chancellor - or Nos would die trying. The queen's guards were expendable, however.

Alicio Organa | Caelan Valoren | Kha'la Daaray | Amani Serys​

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Moonside Inn
| Objective | Victory

​

"I am no warmonger, and I have never loved it, but I cannot lie; on the battlefield, the anxieties of governance fade into the shadows as the simplicities of present survival come to the fore. Life just makes sense out here - and that is a notion that terrifies me. Am I a hero, or a monster? A genius, or a madwoman? Sometimes, the sole difference is success."

​

​

It should have been a desperate last stand for the Crimson Veil, taking cover behind makeshift barricades as they were, hoping such shoddy "cover" may save their lives from the wrath of the New Mandalorians, heirs of a proud warrior tradition dating back to the era of the Taung, their spiritual ancestors. Their pitiful attempt at battle would only highlight their inadequacy, their weakness... and just how pathetic they truly were, to stand in the path of the oathbringers, the righteous, the strong!​

​

The sudden arrival of the handful of terrorists left in the basement with a hostage in tow put a stop to the assault before it could truly begin. Fearless as ever, Jenn stood out in the open, even as the Hastati behind her kept their blasters raised and pointed at their targets, waiting but for the order. Even now, exposed and on the backfoot as they were, the held a chance of winning the encounter, though not without paying a heavier price than first intended. The death of a dear friend, one she looked upon as something of a protege, was all but unacceptable. ​

​

Time. She needed some time to think, to get a new plan in motion, to bring them to victory, as she had done so before. Such was her duty, her life's calling; to take them to the highest peaks of glory, even if she had to drag them all along the way. ​

​

The Battle Meditation, far-reaching as it was, should have invigorated her. It may have been a useful tool, a powerful weapon, and not all too unwelcome beside; Shan Pavond 's presence, distant as it was, was a somewhat familiar one to her by now, and the knowledge that his heart held true emboldened her... before she rejected the connection altogether. Though an ally of the New Jedi Order, she held no desire to find herself bound to them through her curse, her gift, that which made her different from the Hastati around her, different from brave and devoted Haliat. It made her mightier, to be sure, but so too did it set her apart from her people. ​

​

<Haliat, mark every target in the room for elimination by the Hastati. Get the two Padawans to sow havoc in the enemy ranks. Whatever you do, keep your focus.>​

​

It was time to take a gamble. Something brazen, perhaps even foolish, but boldness had won many a great victory, and so she dared to move her hands towards her helm, removing it ever-so slowly, with all the reverence her true second visage deserved, that telltale hiss of depressurization accompanying the gesture. The Duchess needed the eyes of all the cowardly scum in the room to be drawn to her for what followed.​

​

Though untrained in the mysterious ways of the Force, she hardly needed to be for what followed. Suggestion was a Jedi art, or so she had been told, but she had no need of training. What would follow was no act of calling upon the Force, binding all living things from the depths of the Great Ocean, but merely a more thorough embrace of that which she had been made into. Something forced upon her, long ago, but now made her own, in spite of the circumstances. Although the Ersansyr were known to sound more and more agreeable the longer a conversation went on, their sing-song voice enthralling those they chose to speak with, turning the passive melody into something a little more focused was well within their abilities. Something to behold, to be sure. Something... terrifyingly beautiful.​

​

"Have you ever seen a Mandalorian on their knees?" asked the Redeemer rhetorically, the soft, luminescent glow of her eyes growing more intense as her words seemed to be sang out rather than spoken. "Of course not. It is not in our ways to give up, proud son of Hapes. Are you not so brave yourself? Do you not see why we cannot do as you ask? You, who would die for freedom, for the promise of a better future, a bright tomorrow for you and your kin? You are not soldiers, courageous one - tell me, what is your craft?"​

​

"I am- I was a nurse", answered the man keeping the barrel of his blaster pressed against Corazana's temple, although far less fiercely pushed than before. That he even cared to answer her words was enough to show her that her plan was working. ​

​

"But you traded all of that for a blaster. Because you realized that you needed more than your medical knowledge to help your people. You needed to create change." Turning from him to point to another of the terrorists, she gave him an encouraging smile. "Young man - what is your craft?"​

​

"Mechanic", came his voice, drawling out the word, as if struggling to formulate it. His blaster's cannon was no longer precisely trained on the Hastatus he had been aiming at, though not quite lowered. "I loved working on speeder bikes..."​

​

Jenn could only hope that Haliat had done as she had asked, and all would now follow. When she turned back to the nurse, she found that the blaster was no longer pointed at Corazona's head, but up; confusion etched all over his features, questioning why he found everything the Mandalorian said so agreeable, why his gaze remained lost in her eyes, nodding along to all that she was saying. This one, she realized, might very well just break out of his daze. Realize that this was, after a fashion, a more sorcerous method to accomplish what his "oppressors" had wrought upon him and the rest of his kind. ​

​

"I am so very sorry", uttered the Duchess, her wistful sigh so believable it pulled at some heartstrings, "that I care not to redeem you."​

​

Then, her features grew cold, and focused. A sharp gaze, alike a shriek-hawk's. The look of a predator looking down at its prey.​

​

Jenn slowly lifted up her hand, and sought to close her hand into a fist.​

​

And she watched, transfixed, as the nurse levitated but a foot of the ground, panic clear in his eyes as his hand went to clutch at his neck. Her indifference, the emotional repression she used to smooth over her complicated feelings - it did little to hide just how fascinated she was by the sight. There was no fighting back against this. No way out. For so long, she had feared suffering such a fate, her vast experience in the field of battle made pointless by vile sorcery.​

​

But now, this power was hers. At her fingertips. All of her anger given direction, and wielded against one who thought to endanger the life of one she considered to be under her protection. One who had already suffered enough in her life. Never would she allow her thread to be cut.​

​

It was exhilarating. A welcome relief from the indifference she cloaked herself with, so convinced was she that she had to be cold and aloof towards her own trauma, if she was to lead in battle. And when she watched him kick his legs uselessly, she thought only of how weak he was. How she felt the empty air resisting against her fingers, as if refusing to yield, to let her close it into a fist; but, with sufficient effort and channeling of her pent-up frustrations, spite, and loathing, her fingers curled inwards, just a little more, and more-​

​

And then the rest of the way, so much quicker than she would have thought. ​

​

The nurse's neck snapped, and his body slumped on the ground.​

​

Jenn snarled in true, savage joy.​

​

Corazona von Ascania Haliat Kryze Rayia Si Roman Vossari ​

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Corvin Strix Diogo Talon​

“Is this ruler insane? That can only end poorly.”

"Sure sounds like it," Eloise muttered, continuing to choke the flames. More people were staggering from the upper levels down to the ground floor, covering their noses and mouths with pieces of torn cloth to avoid breathing in the smoke. Whatever awaited them outside, it was better than suffocating to death.

Diogo responded via commlink, reassuring her that he was on his way. She didn't stop to think about what might be holding him up... though as the minutes ticked by and the last of the trapped people in the building ran past her down the stairs, she began to wonder. As she descended the steps, that wonder turned to worry, and as she burst out into the cool night air, that worry crystallized into fear.

Dio was nowhere to be found.

"Something's wrong," she told the white-haired Jedi. "Where did he go?"

Like a bloodhound searching for a scent, she started walking down the street, her pace growing more hurried by the moment. The people trapped in the burning building were already scattering to the four winds, seeking to hide or escape the Consortium's forces. Eloise herself now had a target painted on her back, but she didn't care. She had to find Dio.

/exit thread

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Alicio Organa Kha'la Daaray Amani Serys Kassogtha Cthylla Orion Pavond Damian du Couteau Nos Voros Valette Puritis Yumia Jasper Kai'el

Time.

They needed time to fix this. It required a more delicate diplomatic art than a lightsaber blade.

He stood with those that did not draw weapons but any chance of earning more time was lost. The queen directly challenged Alicio.

Raigryn was just a minor diplomatic. A noble that was seen as less troublesome the furthest he was from his home world.

"Strike well lad," he muttered under his breath just to himself, stepping back.

This was a mess that would take months to clean up, regardless of the outcome.

 

[Drystan Creed]

THE HAPAN CRISIS

ARMOR

Undamaged. Relatively speaking.

Drystan watched as Ben collapsed into the mud, the final stun bolt sealing his unconsciousness. Stepping forward, he placed a circular device on the Padawan's back—an automated flyer snapped open, ready to ferry him to safety.

Now onto more pressing matters.

Turning toward the oncoming Hapans, Drystan activated his comm.

"Force user neutralized, Major. Still alive. Unconscious. Sending him to the village—it's not safe here. Not yet." His tone was sharp, focused. "Engaging Hapan land element in my vicinity. Won't take long. I'll be back before the soup gets cold."

The first wave of blaster fire came, bolts scattering as Drystan deflected them with measured precision. Further ahead, a squad of Hapans armed with anti-armor launchers moved into position.

One rocket fired. Drystan dodged easily.

The second—off target. A stray shot. Too stray.

Instinct kicked in, his head snapping toward its trajectory. His blood ran cold. The missile wasn't for him.

It was for Ben.

His hand shot forward, the Force wrapping around the warhead in a telekinetic grip. Straining, he squeezed, crushing the missile mid-air. The explosion ruptured, but he forced the blast inward, containing its fury just enough to keep Ben out of harm's way.

He exhaled, relief washing over him as the flyer carried the unconscious Padawan beyond range.

Then—

Ka-boom.

The world turned white.

A high-explosive warhead slammed onto him. The impact detonated, sending molten shards of metal and alloyed plating outward like a grenade. The force of the blast launched him, debris and dust swallowing his form in a violent eruption.

----------------------

Where… am I?

Blackness.

His vision slowly returned, the haze lifting to reveal a smoking crater. He lay at its center, limbs splayed, armor shredded. The plating on his arms was gone, stripped clean by the explosion. Shrapnel—both from his own armor and the warhead—pierced through his body. His undersuit, though fire-resistant, had done little to spare him from the burning agony that now seared across his skin.

What… happened?

His muddied face turned, eyes locking onto Ben, now safely high above, away from the battle.

His comm crackled, garbled voices barely cutting through the static of his damaged helmet.

Oh. That's right.

Then, the pain hit.

A raw, consuming agony tore through him, deeper than anything he had ever endured. His body trembled, lungs heaving for breath. A single tear slid down his cheek, mixing with mud and soot.

For all his training, all his strength, he was still that same orphan from the slums. That same desperate kid the Jedi had taken pity on.

How did I ever think I could make a difference?

He wanted to be a Jedi. So badly, it hurt.

And yet, he couldn't even talk down a Padawan. Couldn't reach him. Couldn't save himself.

For the first time since that night…

He felt powerless.

The strength in his body drained, the battle song—the distant harmony of Jedi scattered across the system—droned into silence. His ears failed him.

His vision darkened, the mound of dirt beneath him giving way to a void of black.

He blinked.

The last thing he saw—two silhouetted figures in his peripherals, close enough to be in each other's arms.

Then...nothing.

----------------------

The abyss was cold. Vast, infinite. Foreboding, yet strangely welcoming.

He took a step.

A voice whispered. Deep. Soothing. Familiar.

"It's not easy, you know. Are you sure you still want to be a Jedi?"

Then, a child's—brighter, hopeful.

"Of course, Master!"

"Very well… then I will support you in any way I can, Drystan."

----------------------

His body jerked back to life.

Gasping, he clawed for air, fingers sinking into the dirt as he coughed violently. His body screamed in pain, shouting with every nerve alight in agony. In the back of his mind, unconsciousness lurked like creeping tendrils, pulling at him, urging him to surrender to the abyss. But he had to wake up.

Come on, Drystan.

He turned onto his stomach and reached forward, broken fingers digging into the mud, dragging himself toward the crater's edge. He barely had the strength to move, every motion a battle against exhaustion. His lungs screamed for mercy, begging him to stop, to pause—just long enough to take in the air they so desperately needed. But he had to climb out.


Come on, Jedi.

Another pull. His arms burned, his body raw with wounds, but he forced himself forward. It hurt. Everything hurt. Every fiber of his being shouted, begged, pleaded for him to stay down. But he had to get up.

Come on, Shadow.

With a final, desperate heave, he clambered onto the edge of what should have been his grave.

His vision refocused. Hapans—marching closer. His ears caught the battle song once more, the melody of the order returning to his senses.

He stood. Slouched. Tired. Broken. Exhausted.

But standing.

With a slow inhale, he reached out.

His saber snapped into his palm.

With a flick of his thumb, the azure blade ignited, casting its glow against the battlefield—against the fire now raging back to life in his battered body.

The exposed eye beneath his shattered helmet flickered shut—just for a moment. Then it opened again, his darkened gaze burning with defiant fire.

Lycus Merita Aadihr Lidos Azurine Varek Karrys

ENTER: Tyrus Vastor

EXIT: Ben Khal

 

[Tyrus Vastor]

The large Korun steadied his breathing, pressing his back to the cold alley wall. The air around him was thick—not just with smoke and blaster residue, but with intent. Hatred radiated from every corner, from every alley, from every street where the Hapans military hunted and Crimson Veil hide. The Force carried their intent to him, whispering a truth he already knew:

There was no reasoning. No mercy to be given. No mercy expected.

Fine. So be it.

A flare of violet light erupted when he fired up his saber. His other hand grasped the weight of his vibrosword and drew it from its concealed sheathe, the hum of its edge filling the air like the growl of some distant vine cat. Lor Pelek moved with the inevitability of a storm. Every street and every corner was a battlefield. Each encounter, a lesson. And each Hapan who fell only solidified what he had already observed and known to be true.

They had committed to this. A squad of guards rounded a corner, blasters raised. And Tyrus did not hesitate. Through his minds eye, he peeled back his "Jedi eyes" the eyes of a peacekeeper and judicial and chose to see Hapan as it was. War. His saber flashed-one bisected at the waist, another at the shoulder. The third lived just long enough to feel the koruns vibrosword rip through his chest plate, with the speed of a viper.

Their fear. Their rage. Their violence. Though Tyrus did not create the darkness, He did acknowledge it and its ebb and flows. Dark power flowed into him and out again. But it did not appear to touch the Korun. Purity and savagery balanced on the edge of a blade. The darkness of those around him and his own. He reflected it all back upon them, feeding into his own motions, his own flow, his own commitment to live. And live fiercely, naturally with lofty ideals of civilization stripped away. Vaapad was his circuit now and within the flow of its cascading currents his mind turned and allowed the Force. No. Not the Force that the jedi knew and idealized, but what the Kournnai people knew as Pelekotan, He could perceive the webs and fractures that connected Hapan to the greater galaxy.

It was all the same.

The underworld of Coruscant, the jungles of Haruun Kal-the streets of Hapan. It was all the same.

This wasn't about justice. This wasn't about peace. It was about survival now.

The air cracked with the sharp staccato of blaster rifles pitched whines and the cocking of durasteel internal mechanisms. The sound of power settings being adjusted to maximum. Hapan soldiers took aim. Their weapon scopes lasering in on a two bodies. One standing Drystan Creed and the other on the ground Ben Khal .

The seconds pasted by slower as the approaching storm took in all there was to see. An execution.

A flash of violet cut through the darkness-then came the storm. Tyrus hit the ground running. The first Hapan never even saw him-his head vanished in a spray of blood as a Mandalorian ripper round cored straight through his helmet. The next barely had time to turn before Tyrus's saber carved through his chest plate, splitting him in half.

The squad broke into chaos, their tight formation shattered before they even knew it

One trooper raised his rifle-too slow. Tyrus fired first, the ripper's bark drowning out the sound of battle. The bolt hit center mass, punching a hole clean through armor and flesh.

Another swung his vibroblade, lunging. Tyrus let him come. Deflected. Sidestepped. Countered. A downward slash-arm severed at the elbow. A backward thrust-lightsaber through the gut. The trooper screamed, but Tyrus had already moved on. More were coming-it didn't matter. The Lor Pelek continued to move with ruthless efficiency, every step a death. A burst of blaster fire—reflected. The bolts struck back, slamming into their senders with bone-crushing force. A Hapan officer yelled orders—his head parted company with his shoulders before the last syllable left his lips. A single bullet with the kinetic force of a rocket that released a colored mist into the air around them.

Boots pounded in retreat.

Tyrus holstered his Mandalorian ripper. Took a single breath, Then he was in their midst. Carving. Cutting. Slaughtering. Their shrieks merged with the sounds of battle, their blood flowed through the streets.

Seconds. That was it. That was all it took...

Among the bodies stood Tyrus with the aura of a event horizon, his lightsaber still humming in his hand as his breathing became even again. His gloved hands were covered in slick red . Steam hissed from his violet blade and his vibrosword shrieked in its ultrasonic pitch.

Turning his head-Drystan Creed. Standing.
And down-Ben Khal.

Through red tinted glareshades the Lor Pelek tilted his head and just stared at them both. " If you want to live, leave Hapan." He commented, but how it resonated in the force, it came out like a command.

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Valery Noble Jack Wright

Zaiya's pulse still thudded in her ears, the rush of adrenaline refusing to fade as quickly as she wanted. The moment they were within the secured zone, though, the chaos outside seemed to dull, leaving only the buzzing in her veins and the weight of exhaustion in her bones. With a quiet click, she deactivated Domxite and let the droid settle back onto their chassis, their small frame hopping onto her good shoulder.

She paned her gaze only to be instantly drawn to the Grandmaster's slight stumble. The woman was doing her best to hold it together, but the signs were there -- the bleeding wound on her leg, the way her weight shifted. Alarm painted over Zaiya's expression, igniting her mottled spots in flecks of grey and silver edged yellow.

"Please sit down!" Zaiya cried out, unable to mask the worry in her voice. But before she could move, Knight Wright was there, already helping Valery steady herself and calling for medics to come assist. The presence of the Jedi Knight gave Zaiya a brief sense of relief, but it did little to soothe the fear that had coiled tightly in her stomach.

"You both did incredible,"

The praise made Zaiya's skin glow with a warm coral hue, a gentle flush spreading across her face. The words should have made her feel proud, but the responsibility of their injuries quickly drowned out that moment of pride. They weren't out of danger yet, and Zaiya could feel the weight of the of how things escalated still pressing down on her shoulders.

She wanted to say something in return, something that might have conveyed just how much Valery's words meant to her, but the urgency of the moment quickly stole her thoughts away. A medic came in, moving in place to start assisting with Valery's leg while another joined to look at the Padawan's arm. Zaiya glanced down at Valery's leg again, the blood still trickling steadily from the wound. Her own body ached from the fight, but the blaster shot that struck her had at least cauterized her injury. Valery hadn't been so lucky.

"We're just doing our part," Zaiya murmured, her voice hoarse, but steady as the medic worked on her injury. She grimaced slightly, but her attention drew inward for a moment. She had to make sure she could help speed up the healing process on herself. The soothing hum of the Force helped steady her, pushing aside the sting of her own exhaustion as she forced herself to focus.

"We'll get moving," Zaiya said quietly in response to Valery and Jack's urging, but she couldn't help but add, "But first, we get these injuries looked after. We won't be able to do much if they're left untreated." She winced the medic carefully cleaning the wound and securing it as best she could.

Zaiya glanced up at Valery again, her expression soft but determined.

"Once that's done, we can move forward on your command, Grandmaster." The words came out more firmly than she'd expected, but they were what she needed to say.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery let out a slow, steady breath as she finally allowed herself to be helped down onto a makeshift seat near the medics. She could still feel the sharp throb of pain in her leg, the wound sluggishly bleeding despite her body's attempts to clot it. But she wasn't just going to sit there and let it take her down.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled through her nose, tapping into the Force — not to override the pain, but to guide her body's natural healing. The sensation was subtle at first, the warmth of the Force wrapping around her wound like a gentle current, accelerating the clotting process and dulling the sharpest edges of her pain.

She felt the shift almost immediately. Her body, pushed beyond its limits, was screaming for reprieve, but she could mend just enough to keep going.

"Here, Grandmaster."

A medic offered her a canteen of water and a ration bar, their face filled with concern but tempered by duty. Valery accepted both with a nod of thanks, twisting the cap off the canteen and taking a slow, measured sip. The cool liquid was refreshing, soothing the dryness in her throat. The ration bar, while bland, was necessary — her body needed fuel to keep pushing forward.

As she chewed, she lifted her gaze back to Jack and Zaiya, taking in their expressions, the urgency still burning in their eyes despite their exhaustion. They were right — they couldn't afford to rest for long.

She swallowed, straightening her posture as she met their gazes. "The plan is simple," she said, her voice steady but firm. "The GADF is going to move for an extraction of the delegation. But they could use some help."

Her fiery gaze flickered to Jack. "We can't afford to dawdle. But we also can't rush in reckless. We move in step with the military, providing support where needed. The priority is getting the delegation out safely."

She took one last sip of water before pressing her hands against her knees and slowly pushing herself back onto her feet. There was still pain, but it was manageable, and she could use the Force to push herself through a lot.

She had to.

"Let's move. We'll join one of the gunships and head for the palace."

Jack Wright Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[Kha'la Daaray]

Kha'la's blade cut through empty air.

Alicio was already gone, moving like water around her strike, his hand nudging her sword just enough to send her momentum off-balance. She pivoted sharply, boots sliding against the polished marble, but before she could fully recover, the sharp hum of a lightsaber filled the throne room.

Cold blue and flickering black. A weapon of the Jedi. A weapon of her enemies.

Her emerald eyes locked onto his as he saluted, a silent acceptance of the duel she had demanded. Kha'la straightened, her grip on the hilt of her blade tightening as she lifted it in response, returning his salute with the same measured precision. A duel of honor. Of conviction.

Then she moved.

Kha'la lunged again, faster this time, her golden blade flashing as she struck at Alicio with a flurry of elegant, precise movements. She was trained — there was no doubt about that. Each step was measured, each attack honed to target weak points in an opponent's guard. Her footwork was sharp, her form refined.

But she was no warrior.

She had studied the blade, learned the art of dueling from Hapan masters, but she had never fought like this. Never tested her skill against one who had fought for his life more times than he could count. There was no battlefield experience behind her strikes, no instinct sharpened by survival.

She fought with the confidence of royalty, with the poise of a ruler — but not the adaptability of a true swordsman.

Still, she did not falter.

Each missed strike was immediately replaced with another, her blade weaving through the air like a golden serpent. She pressed forward, seeking to force him back, to drive him into a corner. Her movements carried the weight of her anger, her grief, her unwavering belief that she was in the right.

Justice, she called it.

And she would see it done.

---

Across the throne room, Captain Lorana D'Vere watched the battle unfold with a clenched jaw. The Queen was engaged in a duel with the Supreme Chancellor, but that did not mean they would stand idle.

Not when traitors still stood in their midst.

"Form up!" she barked, her sharp, commanding voice cutting through the noise. Her long blonde hair, tied back in an intricate braid, barely moved as she strode forward, eyes locked onto Nos and Caelan.

They dared to challenge the Hapan Royal Guard.

"Subdue them!" Lorana ordered, her blade snapping free of its sheath. "They may not wish to harm you, but we have no such restraints. Bring them down!"

The guards moved in unison, their training sharp, their loyalty unquestionable.

Two of them rushed at Caelan, one aiming a precise thrust for his midsection while the other swept low, trying to knock him off his feet. Another pair focused on Nos, flanking him, blasters drawn but hesitant to fire at close range. Instead, they moved to engage in melee, one wielding a long vibrosword while the other brandished an electrostaff crackling with energy.

Lorana watched and readied herself to interfere.

For Hapes. For their Queen.

There would be no surrender.

Alicio Organa Jasper Kai'el Amani Serys Damian du Couteau Kassogtha Cthylla Caelan Valoren Nos Voros Raigryn Vayd Lady Sylvia Organa

​

 

[Jack Wright]

​

(Tags: Valery Noble , Zaiya Ceti )

The cry for war was to be answered, be it reluctant for Jedi, with glee for the soldiers. Jack stayed close by the Grandmaster's side, ready to provide physical support should she require it, anticipation mixed with staunch trepidation, yearning to face down the vile Queen, get the innocents out, and end this madness.

The closest gunship, freshly unloading more medical supplies, lied in wait for the trio of Jedi, Jack hopping on-board and gripped Valery's hand, should she need it, helping her get onto cool steel. Scraping the mud off his boots and gripped one of the upper handles, eager for takeoff.

But 'eager' may not be as apt. If the finger of his clipped right saber was of any indication; a thick of uncertainty laced Hapes' skyline.

He knew the truth, the negotations were always a formality. There was never going to be a way out beyond bloodshed; it was their nature, added to the scorned wrath of a Warrior Queen?

The Jedi and GA were here only as damage control.

Today, as the engines of the gunship interior thrummed beneath his dirtied boots, depending what may happen prior to or at their arrival, Hapes may find itself without a Queen...

 

[Nos Voros]

HERE I GO KILLING AGAIN

Outfit: Senate Commando Armor
Full Kit Deployment:

Spoiler: Full Kit

* Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool

• 4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01
• 2 X Vibroblade-Model 01
• Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series
• Legion Crew Personal Protection Weapon Mark I

* Combat Scattergun-Model 01

• 3 X Modular Hand Grenade-Model 01
• 3 X Anti-Armor Grenade-Model 01

* Bastion-class Load Bearing/Combat Vest and Helmet

• Combat Blaster Rifle-Model 01 with Tactical Accessories Series and Underbarrel Grenade Launcher-Model 01 (20 X Launchable Grenade Series)
• 4x blaster cartridges
• 2x stun grenades
• Ascension Pistol
• Fusion Lantern
• Datapad
• Garrote
• 3x stimpacks
• 3x bland survival bars
• 128oz Canteen of water.

"Subdue them!" Lorana ordered, her blade snapping free of its sheath. "They may not wish to harm you, but we have no such restraints. Bring them down!"

"Blame her, not me" Nos muttered as he brought the tip of the scattergun back to alignment at the woman he had been in a standoff with and pulled the trigger, the bark of the firearm drowning out the end of his words. The pellets fired towards the woman's unarmored face - aimed with no hesitation nor sympathy.

Another pair focused on Nos, flanking him, blasters drawn but hesitant to fire at close range. Instead, they moved to engage in melee, one wielding a long vibrosword while the other brandished an electrostaff crackling with energy.

The pair flanking him encroached faster as soon as Nos pulled the trigger. The commando's body moved on instinct, recalling multi-combatant drills by rote.

The first goal - dont get surrounded. A little late, but he'd need to rush one of them to get past, to keep both attackers in front of him.

Electrostaff and vibrosword - both lethal, but varying effective range.

Nos hurled his shotgun, butt-first, at the woman wielding the electrostaff - easily deflected or dodged, but the intent was to serve as a distraction while Nos rushed to shoulder-charge the Hapan guard, making a grab for the handle of her electrostaff - if successful, he would pull on the weapon to reorient the two of them with the the vibroblade guard opposite of Nos and thwart this guard's use of the lethal shock-tips of the staff.

Kha'la Daaray | Caelan Valoren | Alicio Organa​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Just as he'd expected, they didn't back down. Almost immediately a shot rang out, but not at him. Two bore down towards him, and Nos was left to deal with his own fight, just as Alicio had to deal with the Queen. It wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to fight. He'd come to Hapes with the intention of conversing with the Queen Mother, not because he thought himself better, but because he understood what she had been through on a very personal level. He'd even been there when her tragedy unfolded.

But now one of them was bearing down on him with the intent to skewer him clean through the middle and the other was sweeping around him while their commander gave orders.

"I gave you the opportunity to avoid this. Remember that when all is said and done."

His saber came up from below right and around to push the impending strike to the side so that it wouldn't skewer him. At the same time, he drew upon the Force and used it to strengthen his legs, lifting one of them upward as the strike came in intent on sweeping his legs, and then bringing it back down towards the striking appendage with enough Force to shatter bones. He wasn't playing games here. He'd given them the opportunity to avoid fighting and they'd elected, instead, to do battle.

---

ATTIRE: LINK (The Second Image) | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Nos Voros | Alicio Organa | Kha'la Daaray ​

 

[Dulcinea Mina]

Dulcinea and the Bladed Mystery poked their head out of the building she had just killed their way through, looking at the tower she had been asked to assault.

"He's right at the top...." Dulcinea trailed, aiming with her pilfered DC-15A. It only had three shots left. The city was a warzone. The Hapans were pressing on defenders everywhere with APC units and Tanks . She could see the AA-guns firing close to the tower. But the Sniper at the top of the tower was far too well concealed. She would never be able to hit him at this angle. She spotted nearby Hapan Squads, hunting for the enemy. Her sharp vision allowed her to spot grenades.

One shot from her rifle and one of the squads was turned into confetti. Another shot turned another squad into confetti. A third shot detonated a gas pipeline, cooking and all female squad alive. She handed him the rifle, took the knife she had retrieved from the chest of a gunner earlier and told him to stick close as she finally ventured outside, moving between abandoned civilian vehicles and crashed Hapan and Alliance vessels, coming across the gorey remains of the squad she had first blasted apart. She searched the pile of slop with her eyes for anything useful, but sighed. The shoot-the-grenade trick was effective but it often left nothing to scavenge.

"If you will, allow me..." The Mystery whispered as they spotted another squad moving close by to investigate the explosions. He made a crude 'gun shape' with his hand and popped off a series of rapid fire but weak green bolts of electricity-like energy and knocked out the entire squad.

"Sometimes mercy has its uses..." The Mystery said.

Dulcinea was silent a moment as she contemplated his point before moving on, making sure to stay behind cover as she came across the knocked out squad, and began scavenging them also. She took for herself an actual prize...an Energy Bow Pistol. Supposedly the preferred side arm of most Force Spawn.

This one seemed to be self built in a way that made it foldable. She took it and it's holster and kept sneaking through vehicles spotting a set of tanks moving through the streets towards the tower, flanked by an entire squad of Hapans.

TACTICAL DATABASE ANALYSIS: PRESENCE OF ENEMY TANKS POSES UNACCEPTABLE RISK TO TAKING CONTROL OF TOWER FOR SNIPING DUTIES. ARMORED UNITS MUST BE ELIMINATED BEFORE PRECEDING TO MAIN OBJECTIVE.

Dulcinea's head tilted at the feed back. She looked at the tanks themselves for a weakness, her database taking apart every facet of the design.

"We have to take the tanks out, otherwise they'll blow us away even if we take the tower ..." Dulcinea whispered.

"I got your back..." he assured her. "I can hide myself with the Force...The Patriarch taught me."

"I'm going to take their grenades. You set them and get them down the barrel. I'll distract the soldiers."

The Mystery nodded in agreement.

Dulcinea snuck right behind a Hapan soldier, pickpocketing a grenade off her belt with uncanny skill, putting her in a sleeper hold and laying her on the ground once she was unconscious. The Mystery made himself invisible with the Force and moved to do the same to another Hapan, grabbing her double bladed sword before following Dulcinea. Both faded back to cover, as the Hapans turned and realized two of their own had gone missing.

The Android and The Mystery moved between more destroyed vehicles, watching as they began to spread out and search for their fallen comrade. They crawled into a crashed Hapan shuttle, waited as one passed by and pickpocketed the grenade dangling on her belt on instinct just like a Pre-Sith Laertia would have as she passed by her hiding place. The tanks had stopped, cannons swiveling, sweeping the area.

She handed the Grenades to the Mystery, pointing out how it operated.

"Set the timer for five seconds, get them both down the barrel, then run." she emphasized as she whispered...

"Good luck." he said as he took the grenades, cloaking himself with the Force as he departed.

Dulcinea then relocated to better cover, crawling underneath a piece of rubble, always keeping in mind the sniper's position.

As a Hapan passed by she grabbed her ankle and focus and an electric charge ran through her skin, and the Hapan was silently tasered into submission, dropping on the spot and dragged into the shadows... Dulcinea found a cable launcher.

She heard shouting. Three missing now.

The first tank exploded, and Dulcinea darted out of cover, sniping two in the head with her energy bow pistol as they turned their head to face the explosion, then another as they spotted their comrades falling. The second tank exploded after and Dulcinea saw the Mystery come out of cloak, signaling her as she peeled from cover. He was directly under the tower, by the entrance. Dulcinea sprinted under cover of smoke to the entrance.

"So far, so good ..." he said quietly.

Dulcinea spotted mines on the stair case. Directional. Fragmentation-based...

Dulcinea set the bolts on her pistol to cryonic setting and fired at all of them, freezing the mines solid.

They crept quietly up the steps. It was dark inside. She heard voices.

Her knife went to the ready as she crawled the final portion of the way up the first flight of stairs, poking her head out of cover and spotted Upgraded Phase 1 Dark Troopers lying dormant.

Dulcinea crept very slowly up the steps, taking out her lightsaber bayonet, switching her pistol to Ion mode.

Each came active as she fired, only the third and final one getting in range to strike, only for the Mystery to slice it in half with his pilfered sword.

She gave him a thumbs up and they silently traversed the rest of the tower, finally coming across the entrance to the sniper nest...

...and finding no one there...

Her eyes locked on to dust shifting on the floor and she instinctively thrust her bayonet forward, feeling it sink into the chest of a Hapan who had been about to fire a disruptor. The Sniper collapsed dead, shock evident on her face, and then Dulcinea commandeered the sniper rifle, a DC-15A completely fitted for sniping. She immediately got on it, sighting multiple enemies. The Palace was in sight. The rifle was mounted in a swiveling tripod fixed to the ground with iron bolts.

Dulcinea began sniping everyone close to that Alliance Team's position, then began shooting at distant guards on the grounds of Kha'la Daaray 's palace, hoping to lessen the amount of enemies evacuating Alliance and Jedi would have to fight through to escape...

Then she sniped the people Manning the AA Guns, getting out her comlink and radioing the Alliance team.

"Move " she ordered.

Meanwhile...

The Clan Li-Ves Stormtrooper kill team didn't answer to the Alliance, and had come here to chew bubble gum and kill Hapans. They were all out of bubble gum.

Palace Guards were silently snipped at a distance by silenced Viper Rifles. The Ashla Healer among them casting spells to momentarily hide her and the team, ambushing many a palace squad that tried to intercept the forces of Alicio Organa as they moved to make their escape. They came across injured Jedi and The Healer was forced to rapidly heal them using specialized magic before she and they were forced to quickly depart before the Jedi could wake up. Such was the way of House Bloodscrawl. To hide from those they aid.

"Think we'll get a shot at the Queen?" one of the troopers asked their commander on encrypted comms.

"Depends if The Chancellor doesn't get soft and choke. That has an awful habit of happening during moments like this..." The Commander replied.

"Think the Healer will try and stop us if we had to take the shot?" His second in command asked as he fired his undermount grenade launcher at a squad of Hapans.

"These lovey-dovey Healers are goody two-shoes. But not that much. The Queen's trying to Sixty-Six everybody. She signed her own death warrant. They'll never let her remain Queen. The Patriarch might not even need to aid Kalen ..." The Commander replied as the Healer shot an enemy squad leader in the head .

He readied his Hellpyre as he spotted more Hapans.

"And so far, I'm not seeing evidence that Hapan cultural views are correct..."

That got a dark chuckle from the rest of his Squad on comms as he kicked open a security booth and roasted all the soldiers alive inside it...

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Valery Noble Jack Wright

Zaiya nodded at Valery's instructions, and the pair got the medical attention they needed while they recouped their energy. They didn't have a lot of time, but at least they were able to regroup and refocus. The Lovalla Padawan soon sported a bandage of bacta synth flesh, which felt and looked weird as it didn't have her ability to color shift over her her bicep. It was a peachy section, one that made her think it seemed unnaturally dull in color.
Would her skin heal and colorshift as normal or would the scar inhibit it?

There was little time for musing once the trio was set to be deployed out once more. By the time Zaiya clambered aboard behind Valery and Jack, her mind was already racing regarding how this had escalated. Why had it? And if they would be able to save and extract all of the Alliance delegation. She clenched her jaw, trying to will the colors back into something neutral, something controlled.

Be a Jedi, not a mood board, she reminded herself, as she grabbed an overhead handle, knuckles white around it, pretending she wasn't still trembling from exhaustion.

As the gunship lifted off, the city below became a blur of smoke and jagged rooftops, the Hapan skyline etched against the burnished orange of a setting sun. Zaiya's gaze drifted to the horizon, but her mind stayed tangled in Valery's words --The priority is getting the delegation out safely.

Zaiya's fingers drifted to the smooth, cool casing of Domxite, still settled against her shoulder. The little droid let out a faint, sympathetic whirr, almost like it could feel the tension pulsing through her. She gave it a quick scratch, more to ground herself than anything else.

"Domxite," she whispered under her breath, "remind me later to find out if there's a Jedi trick for shutting off nerves."

 

[Alicio Organa]

Hapes
Presence of the Queen
- Kha'la Daaray - Jasper Kai'el - Lady Sylvia Organa - Nos Voros - Damian du Couteau - Amani Serys - Kassogtha Cthylla - Caelan Valoren - Orion Pavond - Others -
​

Alicio didn't allow his guard to slip.

His opponent was the leader of a warrior society, with wicked-sharp instincts, and years of combat training. Every jab was a lethal one, every cut calculated to end his life, for nothing more than to prove a point, and to get him out of the way of her warpath.

Despite all that, she just couldn't seem to land a hit.

Alicio moved with the ease of a dancer. He spun the Queen in lazy circles, leading her around the throne room, micromovements in his eyes tracking her attacks before she made them. His footwork moved in perfect sync with hers, his lightsaber a ward between them, guiding her weapon away from his body. Her blade found nicks in his clothing, snagging and opening seams along his suitcoat, but always it found only fabric, near misses.

From behind him, Alicio heard the sounds of continued struggle. That wasn't ideal. He'd hoped that his people would be safe while he dueled the Queen, but the longer this went, the more likely something disasterous happened behind him. They didn't have the luxury of time.

Alicio's footwork suddenly changed, weight shifting to the balls of his feet as he sprang past one of the Queen's slashes, attempting to ramp up the tempo of the duel, and go on the offensive. Feinting stabs and probing cuts attempted to coax and pry open her defenses, then a flash of speed followed to capitalize, a vicious jab at the meat of her thigh, or a lightning slash towards her sword arm's knuckles. He invaded her space, tested his footwork against hers, gave her not a moment of breathing room.

Alicio had matched blades with gangs of criminals. Dens of terrorists. Columns of Stormtroopers. He'd fought Sith to a standstill, had thrown himself recklessly into danger so often, it no longer daunted him, tempered by experience. Alicio thrived under the pressure, but the Queen had never felt it before. It was only a matter of time before the cracks began to form along her practiced bladesmanship.

All he needed was one, tiny mistake.

 

[Drystan Creed]

THE HAPAN CRISIS: OBJECTIVE II

Drystan had to double-check what he was seeing.

Another Jedi—tearing through Hapan lines. A rescue?

For a moment, it felt surreal. Some kind of afterlife simulation where the odds had played in his favor before his supposed death. But no. He shook his head. This was real. He was still alive.

His gaze followed Tyrus as he cut through the Hapans, felling them one by one until they finally broke and retreated beneath the onslaught of violet plasma.

Still, Drystan remained on guard, keeping his stance firm even as Tyrus approached. Paranoia still clung to him. Another wave could be on the horizon. His darkened gaze flickered past the Jedi, scanning for any sign of movement.

Only when Tyrus spoke did the tension snap. Relief crashed into him, sending his body collapsing to a knee. His azure blade hissed out, his lightsaber slipping from his fingers and landing in the grass beside him. His lungs heaved for air, burning from exhaustion.

Even then, his stubbornness refused to waver.

"Then I'm not leaving," Drystan said, his voice ragged but resolute. "Not until the mission's done. Not until the village is safe."

Tyrus would need full context. But right now, even speaking felt like a battle.

Instead, Drystan wordlessly sent him the coordinates via his suit's barely functioning datapad—the location of the village, the battlefield where the Hapans and Pathfinders clashed. That would have to be enough.

Tyrus Vastor

 

[Rayia Si]

Corazona von Ascania Haliat Kryze Jenn Kryze Roman Vossari
Location: Moonside Inn
Objective: Hostage Rescue

---

The blistering hail of fire that the Hastati provided, under the leadership of Haliat, made Rayia’s ears ring. She winced, folding them back protectively as she felt another pulse of the fire in her veins. The beast within, discomfited by the assault on her keen senses, was testing the bonds of its shackles.

Nevertheless, the tactic seemed effective enough as the group continued its inexorable descent towards the basement. The quickening of the blood that Rayia felt at the noise of the firefight was nothing as compared to the spike at seeing Cora dragged out before a firing squad. Rayia’s lips bled as she pressed sharp fangs into them. This was reminding her all too much of the raiders back home. Still, she supposed she had to try the peaceful solution. It would be expected of her, after all. “The woman you are holding is an Alliance diplomat. It would be beneficial to you to release her to our custody,” she said.

Rayia remained silent as Jenn won the attention of the hostage-takers. Her plea seemingly haven fallen on deaf ears. Her golden eyes flicked to the distance between the two groups, measuring out the distance to Cora. But there were too many firing angles to overcome in the short span of time it would take for the blaster bolts to leave the barrels mere inches from Cora’s back and meet flesh. Even with her speed, she couldn’t slay all of them. ‘Not in this form anyway. Not fast enough,’ Rayia thought. She shook her head as the thought crossed her mind. She suddenly understood the warning in the ancient texts; how the beast would call, and you’d crave it more.

Rayia was snapped from her ominous thoughts as an odious and metallic scent permeated the air. The scent of blood, but twisted somehow. Wrong. Concern writ large on her face, she glanced over at Jenn as the conversation turned and Jenn began burrowing her fingers into the air as the nurse who had spoken up frothed at the mouth and spasmed.

Rayia knew this was the Dark at work, but they didn’t have time for a long conversation. She signed a brief Galatic Alliace military code for “flash grenade”, hoping it was universal enough to be understood by her companions. Most importantly by Jenn, who had removed her helmet. The other Crimson Veil recruits, witnessing their impromptu leader go limp at the hands of their sorcerous enthraller shook off the effects of their suggestion. Rage flickered across their faces in hues of pink and red as they aligned blasters upon their original target. Rayia depressed Light Fang’s hidden trigger a second time.

Rayia moved forwards as a blinding flash filled the room, emanating from the lightsaber’s blade. She could still sense where each occupant was, thanks to her tail’s ability to detect vibrations. Her lunge took one of Cora’s assailants in the gut, even as she wrapped her weighty, crimson cloak about the head of another and sent him skidding back down the width of the hallway with a kick. Grasping for Cora’s hand, Rayia would try to guide her towards some cover. “Something tells me they weren’t the best of company,” she quipped despite tear-streaked cheeks.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery stood steady within the gunship, her fiery gaze scanning the cityscape as they flew toward the palace. Smoke curled through the skyline, blaster fire flashing like distant stars in the deepening dusk. The tension in the air was palpable, but she remained composed, focused on the task ahead.

As she shifted her stance to brace against the ship's subtle movements, her gaze flickered toward Zaiya. The Lovalla Padawan clutched an overhead handle, her knuckles white with tension, her usually vibrant colors dulled by exhaustion and nerves. Valery could feel it — anxious energy radiating from her like a quiet storm.

Without hesitation, Valery reached out, placing a firm but reassuring hand on Zaiya's shoulder. When the younger Jedi glanced up, Valery offered her a small, steady smile. "You're doing great, Zaiya," she said, her voice calm but certain. "It's okay to be nervous. It means you care. But don't let it stop you — let it sharpen you." She gave her shoulder a light squeeze before pulling back, trusting the words to sink in.

Before Zaiya could respond, the ship's comms crackled to life, the pilot's voice cutting through the tension.

"Approaching the landing zone now. We're already taking fire—hostiles on the ground, rooftops, and a few emplacements near the extraction point. We're gonna need you to clear the area before we can set down fully!"

Valery's smirk returned, this time sharper, laced with determination. "Then let's make some room."

As the gunship banked, she reached for her lightsaber, igniting its violet blade with a snap-hiss. The time for nerves was over — now, they moved.

Jack Wright Zaiya Ceti ​