Faction [GA] The Hapan Crisis

[Lady Sylvia Organa]

To Halt A Genocide

Outfit: Royal Suit
Weapons: Minor self defense weapons

The pain was palpable on Sylvia's face, looking up from the ground she had been thrown to by the guard who'd stabbed her. Her dark chocolate hair was interspersed with blood and thrown about across her face. Her vision focused on the image of her cousin Alicio and the young Prince Valoren. The gift she had brought to offer still lay near their feet. If only she could help them somehow. It was her responsibility to represent the people and provide solutions.

Then, there was a flash of confusion that flared through her crystalline blue eyes as they flitted back and forth across the room. She was no Jedi, but the Force still had roots within her, and she could feel the way it moved. Even see it now.

And it was beautiful.

An array of color, shifting and playing as if the whole planet had been, all flowing and mixing with the spectrum of vivids that was the sounds in the room. The projection of love, many voices together as one, nearly took her shallow breaths away. It was like the universe itself was trying desperately to salvage this. A stillness seemed to move through the room, ever so slowly. Even Nos lowered his gun along with the guard he had been about to shoot.

She turned to face the warrior woman, who had just moments before been ready to end her life, staring at her with a slow understanding of the weight of the actions. Sylvia met her eyes with nothing but the heart-melting warmth in her smile that she was known for. A show of forgiveness and understanding without words.

"Alicio, Caelen, May the force be with you." Sylvia whispered, pulling herself forward into a sitting position that wouldn't cause too much blood flow. With the injuries she sustained, she couldn't hope to be of any help in further conversation. But she could help in another way. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the connection around them in, adding her own voice—however small it might have been—to the chorus of the Force song.

She poured all of her strength, her compassion, her hope into it, for Alicio Organa and Caelan Valoren to hold onto and provide them with more confidence. If anyone could do this, it was them. For Nos Voros to use to protect them and find the calm he needed. For Amani Serys and Jasper Kai'el to encourage them to do the same. For Damian du Couteau to survive this. And especially for Kha'la Daaray , so that she may be able to find it in herself to hold forward the greatest strength a person could show: a willingness to consider a different path.

Even with a knife in her back, the hope of the Organa's could not be broken out of her. Not here, not by anyone. She wouldn't let it. She would continue to add her voice to the song until either they found a solution or her injuries finally got to her.

Violence would not win this day, not as long as they relied on each other.

Alicio Organa | Kha'la Daaray | Caelan Valoren | Amani Serys | Kassogtha Cthylla | Orion Pavond | Damian du Couteau | Nos Voros | Valette Puritis Yumia | Raigryn Vayd | Others​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery gritted her teeth against the sharp pulse of pain radiating from her injured leg. Every movement sent another jolt through her system, but she pushed through, her grip tightening around her lightsaber as she deflected another volley of blaster fire. She could feel Kahlil through their Dyad, his presence anchoring her, drawing on her strength to fuel the battle meditation that was keeping their forces steady.

But she was running out of strength to give.

Blood seeped from the wound above her knee, staining the fabric of her pants and leaving a dark trail against the debris-littered ground as she moved. The injury was slowing her down, her usual grace hindered by the stiffness in her movements. She could feel the toll it was taking — her vision blurred at the edges, and each breath felt heavier, more labored. But there was no stopping. Not yet.

Jack was cutting through the enemy ranks with relentless precision, his twin sabers flashing as he carved a path forward. His quick thinking had given the civilians an opening, and Zaiya — despite the injury she had sustained — was leading them to safety. The young Lovalla's determination was unwavering, even as she cradled her wounded arm.

Valery lifted a hand, reaching out through the Force to reinforce her shield, catching another barrage of blaster bolts meant for the retreating group. But she felt it — her control slipping, the strain of maintaining her connection with Kahlil and the physical toll of her wounds dragging her down.

Her muscles trembled as she took a step, her injured leg nearly giving out beneath her. She caught herself, planting her lightsaber into the ground for support as she steadied her breathing.

No. Keep moving.

She pushed forward again, just in time to intercept a blaster bolt that would have struck a fleeing civilian in the back. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the bolt careening into the chest of the soldier who fired it, watching as he crumpled to the ground.

They were almost there.

She turned to Jack and called out, her voice firm but strained. "Keep pushing forward! I'll cover you!"

But the moment she stepped forward to follow, her body swayed. The blood loss was getting to her, her vision darkening for just a second before she forced herself to refocus. She clenched her jaw, unwilling to show weakness in the middle of battle, but she knew the reality — she wasn't going to last much longer without medical attention.

She had to make sure they all got out first.

She reached out again, this time to Kahlil Noble through their bond, her voice barely more than a whisper in his mind.

I need your strength… I don't know how much longer I can hold on.



Jack Wright Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[Echo Athoth]

Hapes
Tags: Zhea Nox , Caltin Vanagor , Briana Sal-Soren , Thayze Montserrat , Kahne Porte , Rik Perris , Mother Arg'garok , @Others...

Echo Athoth's Locket, Epo-1 Interceptor
​

"Jedi Master Zhea Nox!"
"Hobbs, I'm not seeing a way in. Echo, let's try together to strip some of the transport armour away with the Force - I know you are strong with it. Then maybe the others can get to the people out."

Echo gave her fellow Jedi a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Focus on reversing the bend in the roof," Echo suggested. "If they're pinned within that will be the path of least resistance-"

"H-hello?"

A weak voice came from within. It was a young man, an older teen from the look of his face and his voice, who was partially obscured by the concave roof of the transport. His face was visible in the window, where a small gap left just enough room to see his eyes. They were bloodshot, clearly from having been in tears.

"P-please!" he began, his voice now a bit more desperate. "M-my little brother, h-he's stuck! L-like his body is stuck! H-he s-said he can't feel his leg!"

The Ogemite's face didn't shift, but her stomach did turn. Blood loss. The passengers within were in significantly more danger. The matter had just gone from urgent to cataclysmic. The Jedi Knight wasted no time focusing herself, letting her energy flow into the roof of the vehicle to create an invisible hand of sorts to begin pushing up on the indentation.

"Tell your little brother everything is okay," she stated, her flat tone now coming off as rather stoic. "We're going to free you both as quick as we can."

The boy nodded, his face vanishing from view.

There could be no failure now.

 

[Rayia Si]

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

---

Blood matted the fur around Rayia’s claws, leaving slick, oily splotches of crimson that clung to her fingers. Withdrawing a soot-stained cloth from the inside of her cloak, Rayia scoured her fingers with uncharacteristic meticulousness. So used to wiping away the efforts of Rayia’s smithing, the cloth hungrily absorbed the blood as well. More importantly, the simple task allowed Rayia to ignore the prickle of the staring she felt coming from Jenn, Haliat, and the Hastati.

The stares landed in her back like knives, piercing between her shoulder blades all the way to her core. Insidious thoughts wormed their way up from Rayia's deepest fears. Rayia did not need the Force- did not even need her Felacatian ability to sense movement in her vicinity - to detect the wariness that had crept into her companions. She had shown them a primal side of herself and was reaping the consequences. She could see it in their eyes. That same look that frightened parents visiting their cherished, soon to be apprentices training in Vossport had given a lonely, disheveled brat of a runaway. The kind of look that said ‘best to give this one a wide berth, lest she eat you.’

Golden discs met icy blues and Rayia forced a small, wearied smile onto her face. They had no time for her doubts. Any minute now, the hostage takers might decide that there wasn’t any point in keeping all of the hostages alive. In fact, Rayia jumped as the thought crossed her mind as a burst of static sounded from one of the guard’s comm devices. The static soon growled into a voice, asking for a status update. Rayia remained frozen, glancing between her companions. Obviously, neither she nor Jenn should speak. They would instantly give the game away.

Roman came to the rescue, but only too late did Rayia realize something. “Wait, but they’ve heard your voic-“ she mouthed, only to be cut off a moment too late as the line dropped dead. Since stealth was no longer an option, it seemed the group was progressing in all due haste.

Jenn especially had eschewed all chance of approaching quietly with the activation of her lightwhip. The cat was out of the bag. Shrugging, Rayia unclipped her own saber from where it hung by its ring pommel on her belt. Light Fang’s bone and metal hilt pressed snuggly into her hands. Rayia found comfort in the familiar grooves and ridges, before activating it with a familiar heat that seemed to bloom into the space around her. That being said, Rayia kept behind Jenn as she advanced. The characteristics of the lightwhip making any chance of stepping out in front particularly dangerous, even with the luxurious hallways of the suite they found themselves in.

The lone survivor who Jenn kept alive at gunpoint, let out a grunt and squirmed in the face of the blaster pointed at him. He seemed to stare past Jenn, towards the dim blue coming from a viewport that let light filtering between the rooftops through the hallway. His lips pursed wordlessly for several moments before he spat, “Eight! There are eight left!” Rayia’s tail bristled and her brows furrowed. Silhouettes of movement were spilling up from the lowest floor onto the one beneath them. Moving carefully in teams of four, people were climbing up the lifts on both ends of the floor. That would leave Jenn’s forces, Rayia, Roman, and Haliat trapped between them.

“He must be lying. I can sense two groups of four at minimum surrounding us through the lifts. There’s no way that they would leave the hostages unguarded,” Rayia said. At the same time, the enemy had split their forces and were currently climbing up a potential access route to the basement.

The survivor shook his head. “You won’t get more-,” he said, sparing a glare towards Rayia and some guttural words Rayia would assume to be a Hapan curse.

 

[Drystan Creed]

THE HAPAN CRISIS: OBJECTIVE II

ARMOR

What a pain.

It was an understatement of galactic proportions. Maybe it was a joke to keep his spirits up, but deep down, he knew better. He wasn't just tired—he was numb. Years of working in the cruelest corners of the galaxy had dulled him to moments like this, facing threats that even hardened bounty hunters wouldn't touch. All while running on little more than nutri-cubes and caf.

For Ben, this might be a defining moment. A turning point. A core memory.

Maybe, if he could strike down someone of Drystan's caliber, it would be the stepping stone to his legend—the start of his grand tale of heroism, or whatever it was Padawans yearned for these days.

For Drystan? It might as well have been just another Tuesday—one with some extra overtime. Or so he told himself. After a while, it all blurred together, especially when you were as emotionally distant as the stretch between the Core and the Outer Rim. At least, that's how he was beneath the mask of normalcy he wore around others. Another contingency. Another measure to keep people from looking too closely.

Ice cold.

What did he have to gain from this? Nothing, really. Nothing that mattered. Nothing that would bring him joy or excitement.

It wasn't enough. Just a start.

It was always just a start.

And ever since that day, it had been nothing but starts.

It was another step forward. Another step toward completing his mission.

Another step up the endless staircase.

Ben lunged, golden blade flashing. Drystan met it head-on, absorbing the strike with practiced ease, his saber deflecting the blow cleanly, barely a tremor in his stance.

Fine. Negotiations are over.

For a Padawan, Ben was skilled—maybe even the best in his class. But Drystan would show him the reality of the gap between a trainee and a hardened Shadow of the Order. He didn't fight fair. His strikes came like a staccato of violence—erratic, unpredictable, and relentless, all intended to pry Ben's defensive shell wide open.

And that was just with his saber.

Between each swing, Drystan fired shot after shot from his blaster, filling the gaps in his assault. His aim was precise, the bolts streaking toward Ben. Not to maim—he wasn't cruel—but to incapacitate. His pistol was set to stun, each shot promising a jolt strong enough to drop his opponent.

This had to end fast. The Hapans were closing in, and while the Force-song hummed in the background, he placed no stock in it. No melody, no connection, no distant warmth was going to erase the battalion of troops and armor bearing down on him.

Ben Khal
​

​

​

​

​

 

[Jack Wright]

(Tags: Valery Noble , Zaiya Ceti )

Another Force wave dragged five Hapes flying, Jack heeded the Grandmaster's call and kept preserving onwards, batted aside threee more bolts and promptly disarmed two, slashing off blasters with the left, then kicked the third into the torso.

Despite his own distate for the Hapes (and everything they stood for) he wasn't actively trying to take their lives; these naive soldiers were victims of a grieving Queen's ambitions. A taste for revenge they were just instruments for, blindly assaulting all like the warriors they were. Considerably, killing them would be a mercy.

But Jack had no inclination to carry through that line of thought. Barrelling back another wave, the Force user felt a surge of pain and distress, not from the citizens Zaiya was so bravely guiding forward, while he held off the sides.

But their own ally, struggling to keep up the pace. In an act's desperation, Jack sliced forward to ward off and keep the Hapan soldiers from firing, kicking one from their feet and sent her flying into three more. De-igniting momentarily to have the remainder four slam headbutts into each other, pulled away with fierce Telekinesis.

Using this chance to cover Valery's side, reigniting and bouncing away any bolts, using the Force just a little to help boost her motor control. Grinning strainedly as he murmured, just loud enough for her ears, "Come on, this isn't a planet worth dying on..."

The perspiration grew more palpable, on his features.

 

[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 breath came fast and sharp, her skin rippling in shades of pale silver and amber in strained focus. The Force thrummed around her, not just through her own pulse, but in the shifting colors of the civilians she shielded, in the faltering strength of the Grandmaster behind her, and in Jack's determination as he fought to cover their escape.

She wanted to turn back. Every instinct screamed at her to do something, to heal, to help. But her Master's Iris Arani 's words echoed in her mind -- you cannot help anyone if you fall first.

She had to trust them. Trust the Grandmaster, trust Knight Wright, trust herself.

Another volley of blaster fire rained down, and before she could react, Domxite jumped up into the air. The tiny droid's chassis shifted in an instant, and a hatch popped open. There, the lightsaber built to be housed extended out for Zaiya to grab hold, hearing Domxite in her mind that she should use them to protect herself.

Zaiya grabbed Domxite themselves as the rainbow colored blade burst to life, mirroring the Lovalla Padawan's bioluminescent markings as they flashed bright gold, deflecting a few of the bolts before she summoned a shimmering iridescent Force barrier, the sphere flaring to life around the civilians. The impact sent a jolt up her arms, her wounded one screaming in protest, but she held firm.

They were almost there.

"Keep going!" she urged the civilians, pushing through the throbbing in her arm. The Alliance forces were just ahead, one last stretch, one last push, and they'd be safe.

But behind her, Valery wavered. Zaiya saw it out of the corner of her eye -- the brief sway, the moment of hesitation. Jack was already moving, closing the gap, fending off fire while giving the Grandmaster a quiet, strained reassurance.

Zaiya clenched her jaw.

She couldn't leave them. But she couldn't do nothing. Heart hammering, she reached out ... not physically, but through the Force. Just like Iris Arani taught her. Not to heal, not to drain herself, but to steady.

A ripple of energy extended from her to Valery, a stabilizing pulse like a thread woven into the Force Song itself. Not a cure, not a fix, but a moment of balance.

Then she turned forward again.

One more push. Then they could all get out of here.

 

[Ben Khal]

Ben was exhilarated, the energy provided by the battle meditation pumping through his veins. He fought like he never had before, the Force itself driving his blade harder, faster, and with greater finesse.

Yet his opponent was older than him, stronger, bigger, and had more experience. Most importantly of all, the battle meditation had reached him too. Whatever boost Ben received, he never was able to catch up to Drystan’s skill. And as the battle wore on, the Knight didn’t hold back.

Ben tried to defend himself against his onslaught, their lightsabers crashing together as he weathered the beating. But the final blow which destroyed the Padawan’s defense didn’t come from Drystan. It was the Force warning him of danger, not from the Jedi or the GADF, but from the Hapans behind him. His own countrymen had been ordered to shoot him.

The horror of that revelation was distracting enough to give Drystan the window he needed. He pulled out a blaster and fired at the boy. Thinking it was a standard bolt, Ben tried to deflect it. Instead the shot passed through his blade and hit him square in the chest, zapping through his nerves to his brain. Stunned, Ben lost consciousness and fell in the mud, his blade deactivating as he lost his grip on the hilt.

Behind him, the Hapans trained their weapons on Drystan and opened fire.

Drystan Creed​

 

[Kha'la Daaray]

Kha'la watched, silent and unmoving as chaos erupted around her. The sound of blasters discharging, the snap-hiss of ignited lightsabers, the sharp ring of steel meeting steel — it was all noise, a backdrop to the singularity of her focus.

The Jedi moved swiftly, their shimmering blades dancing as they formed defensive lines around their precious diplomats. The Alliance had not come in peace, not truly. They had come to manipulate her, to strip her of her authority, to chain her beneath their banner of justice. And now, when she refused to bow, they fled like cowards.

A senator fell, blood splattering across the pristine marble floor of her throne room. Kha'la barely spared him a glance. Damian du Couteau. A man she had once respected, an ally of her people. Now? He was nothing more than another consequence of war. Another casualty in a fight she had no choice but to see through.

The Force stirred around her, heavy and pressing, a tide of something warm and insidious creeping into the edges of her mind. Kha'la felt them. The Jedi. Their whispers, their illusions of peace, their desperate need to bend her to their will. Battle meditation.

Her jaw clenched as she resisted.

She could feel the tendrils of their influence reaching for her grief, trying to soothe the fire raging inside her, to turn her fury into something soft, something manageable. It was disgusting. Their peace was weakness. Their calm was submission. They wanted her to kneel, to relinquish her righteous anger, to let her brother's death go unanswered. They wanted her to embrace forgiveness.

No.

She would never forgive.

Justice did not come from kind words and clasped hands. It came from blood. And Hapes would have its justice. Kha'la exhaled sharply, severing herself from their influence with sheer force of will. The warmth that tried to snake into her heart found nothing but ice in return.

Beyond the throne room, alarms blared. The Palace was locked down, and her soldiers were already moving to intercept any remaining escapees. The Alliance could run, but they would not get far. The city was hers, its streets a labyrinth of soldiers, turrets, and intercepting forces. Let them fight their way out. Let them suffer for their arrogance.

But those who remained?

Kha'la's emerald eyes burned with lethal focus as she turned her attention to the three men who had stayed. Nos Voros. A soldier to the last, unwavering even in the face of chaos. Caelan Valoren. The boy-king who dared to think himself her equal, offering himself as a political prisoner. And then—

Alicio Organa .

The Chancellor.

She exhaled, slow and measured, as she turned fully toward him.

"The rest of you," she ordered coolly, her voice slicing through the aftermath like a blade, "Stand down. Focus on securing the exits. Let me deal with the Supreme Chancellor."

Her guards obeyed without hesitation, forming a tight perimeter, weapons trained on Nos and Caelan but making no further moves —y et.

Kha'la lifted a hand, beckoning her royal assistant forward. A moment later, a golden vibrosword was placed into her waiting grasp. The blade was elegant, sharp and precise, its form akin to that of a fencer's weapon — crafted for a duelist, not a butcher. She turned it in her hand, feeling the familiar weight, the way it balanced so perfectly in her grip. The blade of a Queen, of a ruler who did not simply order from afar but fought for what was hers.

Kha'la took a step forward, then another, stopping just a few paces from Alicio.

The time for words had passed.

The Alliance had spoken with their actions. The Jedi had made their choice. Now, he would answer. "Let your blade speak, Chancellor," Kha'la said, her voice carrying the weight of an empire behind it. "If you will not kneel, if you will not accept that your time to interfere is over, then stand and fight." Her blade flicked upward, pointing directly at his chest. "Prove to me that your justice is stronger than my vengeance." And with that, she lunged.

The duel for Hapes had begun.

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

​

 

[Orion Pavond]

HAPES – FOUNTAIN PALACE – THRONE ROOM
Lady Sylvia Organa | Damian du Couteau

To say this had gone poorly would be an understatement. Not that it was unexpected given how the senators and Jedi present were behaving. All Orion had wanted, what he had needed, was information and privacy. And before he could get a word out edgewise to try and remedy this, everything had gone straight to chaos. His body's instinctive tension as every muscle coiled, ready to jump into action. Instead, Orion took a deep breath before walking slowly with his hands up. Hands raised up and high with not a single weapon. His eyes tracked as everyone in the room moved to either defend their selves or make their escape. Why did they have to resort to violence?

The Queen said they could not leave until her say so and yet one of the Order's finest made the first draw. Cowboys, the lot of them. Everyone and their guns and lightsabers and drop of a hat, itchy trigger finger. And here he had his hands raised up as he walked across the battlefield. His eyes scanning the room not for every potential threat but those who might take aim towards him and seek to do him harm.

Lasers occasional grazed his skin in the ensuing mess. Everyone focused on the threats in front of them. And not the man with his hands up in the sky. All it took was an application of the Force so minute and subtle. Battle meditation was an overt use. But if Orion could ride off of that wave and slip something smaller, more manageable underneath the current to sneak into the minds of those who might do him harm . . .

Well, that was a clever application of the Force, isn't it?

After all, who had time to deal with the Jedi obviously surrendering when there were far more dangerous threats in the room? There came the caveat. The moment Orion did choose to intervene in this mess, that cloak which kept him inconspicuous would drop immediately. Which meant he needed to choose what he did next very carefully. If the ruckus would die down long enough for him to hear his own thoughts . . .

Luckily, it came in the form of something far more manageable than a duel between queen and chancellor.

"Knife to see you," Orion chirped up as his head tilted over the injured Lady Sylvia Organa and Damian du Couteau .

That little remark would surely get the senator's attention. Orion bent his knees and crouched down, glancing at the wound in examination as he raised a hand and tapped his chin a few times. He hummed to himself for a moment.

He might be able to do something about that. Shan's influence on his studies had been beneficial. Time to see exactly how beneficial they could prove to be.

"I can help you with that," Orion gestured to the knife wound with a circling index finger before turning his head slightly to the prone senator. A wound through the head. Nasty work. Still, there might be a breath of life to coax back into something more. Even if it was just a little bit more.

"As for your friend, I make no promises. This isn't exactly my specialty."

Orion's cousin would be far better at this. Still, that's exactly why Orion always carried around a few medical tools on his person should his own healing factor or the Force fail him, or a wound took too long to heal in a particularly precarious situation.

In this case that Orion predicted would one day occur, someone would need the medicine far more than he ever did, than he ever would. Other lives were far more valuable than his own. This much he knew was true.

He gestured once more to her knife wound and the deathly senator once more, palms open. Better to approach this calmly and slowly in case she was suffering any form of shock. No need to make this worse than it already was.

Hopefully, Orion could surprise himself and help a few people in the process. No time like the present.

"May I, Senator?"

 

[Haliat Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Moonside Inn
| Objective | Neutralize Hostiles, Secure Hostages


The moment their Duchess made her way down the stairs, training naturally bid the Hastati follow. Ordinarily, Haliat would have been right at their head, had instinct not brought him up short. A strike force like this was effective not simply because everyone in the group was a well-trained warrior, but because it was a group. These soldiers were not here to go out and seek their individual glory, but to advance and secure ground as a cohesive unit, each marching into danger in the knowledge that their meticulously drilled formation and doctrine ensured that a comrade supported them, kept them safe just the same as their armor did. But the posture of the woman in blue suggested nothing of that methodical deliberation. And that weapon at her hip was not remotely suitable for a formation. Whatever unfolded down those stairs was clearly meant to be Jenn's moment and hers alone.

"Hold back a few paces," he instructed the Onderonians nearest him, even as he removed a simple cloth from his belt which would have to suffice in place of his cape, the jetpack he'd used for the descent having made the garment impractical. He would use the brief respite to properly wipe down his blade before re-sheathing it. "If you see a danger, be ready to support."

As could be anticipated, however, the woman had clearly been in no danger. Brave in their own way, their opposition may have been, and committed to their cause. But they'd come here prepared for pampered socialites suckling at the trust fund teat, not Mandalorians. Certainly not sorcery. Yes, the Alor was safe, but that assessment clearly did not extend to the one insurrectionist she'd left momentarily alive. Truth be told, Haliat very much respected that the battered man had either the steel or the presence of mind to lie under these circumstances, but he'd done himself no favors with that act of defiance. He'd say Rayia's repudiation of his claim had damned the man, but honestly, based on the carnage surrounding them? He wasn't sure what kind of a chance the poor bastard had to begin with.

In fact, Haliat saw only one glimmer of hope, and given the vengefulness of the Hapani forces lurking outside, it was a slim one at that. Nevertheless, the man was no longer an immediate danger, and if even one unnecessary death could be avoided here, he'd prefer it. Therefore, he took that chance, drawing his long barreled pistol and silencing the man with a single shot...on stun. Certainly, executing an unconscious man would be no great deed worthy of song or story.

"Doubtful, that this man could tell us anything a simple thermal scan could not. Do as you will, Alor, but we have no time to waste, straining nuggets of truth from the deception. Hastati, link up."

A thermal scan could and did once again confirm the Jedi's formidable awareness of their surroundings, but the efficacy of a sophisticated targeting suite did not end there. In some ways, the swordsman's gear was nothing note. Only the most vital parts of his armor were of the true beskar, and even at that only for the upper body. But when it came to the software, he could boast a few bells and whistles not universally available to the rank and file...save in this moment, when he gladly shared. Switching to thermal vision once more, he marked the eight IR signatures which Rayia had warned of, and a handful of others beginning to fan out into defensive positions down below. Each and every one of these appeared one by one on the Hastati HUDs as target points, complete with range marking. Awareness, check. Time to move on to the next priority.

"Ryk, Rion. Lift, far end. Hystion, trade. Everyone else, fan out and secure the level below. We'll catch up momentarily."

Ordinarily, the Hastati standard issue was not to his taste. If he was going to resort to a rifle, he preferred something a bit more controllable, better for precision at long range. At intermediate range, he preferred his pistol for its ability to fire from behind the cover of his shield, but this...this was a niche case. The four gunmen rapidly rising to confront them were all crammed into a metal box, moving at a set speed with a known destination. A predictable target with no real capacity to maneuver made accuracy far less of an issue, meaning that could now be sacrificed more or less entirely for simple, overwhelming firepower. Clutching the rifle tight against his shoulder to better control the unforgiving kick, he took aim and opened fire well before the elevator had finished its ascent. Luckily, these were not the stout walls of the Iziz royal palace; the withering hail of high energy blaster bolts met the luxurious plush carpeting and floor planks in its way, and kept right on going to shear through empty air, thin metal...and finally vulnerable flesh. The barrel of his borrowed rifle was glowing hot by the time he was done, but not one of the four reached their floor alive. The four who emerged to a face full of shotgun at the opposite end of the corridor fared little better.

After that, attacker and defender alike could enjoy a bit of respite. The Crimson Veil had not come here with strength enough to defend this place inch by inch, and had therefore made the reasonably solid choice to yield the second floor entirely. Even now, falling like rain and still ignorant of exactly who or what was killing them, they had chosen to pull back and consolidate their remaining strength on the ground floor and fortify the lobby. The reception desk, the marble fountain, couches ripped away from the walls, these all became basic but desperately held fortifications as they awaited the final push from above.

A push which began now.

​

| Friendly | Corazona von Ascania Jenn Kryze Rayia Si Roman Vossari ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Roman Vossari | Jenn Kryze | Rayia Si | Haliat Kryze

Moonside Inn Hostage Crisis

As the Mandalorians and their Jedi companions reached the lobby, they’d be greeted with a shout:

"Drop your weapons!"

A gruff, masculine voice emanated from the basement steps.

Cora emerged first through the doorway, hands bound behind her back, and a terrorist's arm slung tightly around her middle. Despite the blaster held to her temple, her expression was placid, almost detached.

Three more men followed, their weapons aimed not at the encroaching assailants, but at the Jedi's back. On orders of Kalen , they were not to use civilians as shields. They'd discovered, however, that this woman was no civilian. Their orders were now to retreat, but they could not do so unless the bucket-heads and saber-wielders allies stepped aside.

The blaster's barrel pressed harder against the side of Cora's head. A single click could be heard.

"Drop your weapons, kneel, hands in the air," he ordered. "Or say farewell to your Jedi friend."

Even as the battle meditation from Azurine Varek , Shan Pavond and others washed over her, Cora remained still, silent, and eerily serene amidst the tension.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery felt the weight of exhaustion pressing against her, her muscles burning, her vision flickering dangerously at the edges. She had given everything — her strength, her focus, her very connection to the Force — to keep their allies standing, to protect as many lives as possible. But she was reaching her limit.

And yet, she didn't fall.

Jack was there, moving with fierce determination, deflecting bolts and pushing back the Hapans with calculated precision. She felt the subtle touch of the Force from him, guiding her movements, steadying her limbs when they threatened to fail. Then came Zaiya — a ripple of warm, stabilizing energy through the Force. It wasn't overpowering, wasn't forceful. Just… there. A steadying pulse in the raging storm of battle. A reminder that she wasn't alone.

She breathed in sharply, feeling the thread of support from them both, from the civilians they fought to protect, and from Kahlil. His presence in her mind was a quiet, unwavering beacon, a reminder that he was with her, always. Her fingers clenched tighter around her saber. Her body screamed at her to stop, to rest, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.

The Alliance military position was within reach.

Blaster fire erupted from the barricades ahead as GADF troops opened fire, covering their approach. Soldiers rushed forward, their armor stark against the smoke and fire behind them. Some helped the civilians across, ushering them into safety, while others set up a defensive line against the Hapans still pursuing.

The moment they reached the secured zone, Valery's strength finally wavered.

She stumbled, her injured leg nearly giving out, and only Jack's steady presence at her side kept her from collapsing outright. A sharp breath hissed past her lips as she sought her balance. Blood still trickled from her wound, her body battered and drained, but they had made it. They were safe.

A GADF officer rushed toward them, his expression tense but relieved. "Thank the starts you all made it. Reports suggest it's happening everywhere. But we've got you covered from here." He turned to a nearby medic team and barked an order. "Get them medical attention, now."

Valery exhaled heavily, her fiery gaze flicking to Jack and Zaiya. She could see the weariness in their faces, the strain of battle, but also their determination. Her lips curled into a small, tired smile. "You both did incredible," she murmured, her voice softer now, filled with quiet gratitude. "But now… let's get patched up before we push our luck."

Jack Wright Zaiya Ceti ​

 

[Jack Wright]

​

(Tags: Valery Noble , Zaiya Ceti )

Jack would agree, though his own damages were superficial, at worst. Mainly exertion from the tough battle to and fro, this was a welcoming respite.

However, he couldn't hide the brief stab of disappointment and annoyance, allowing himself to exhale so much energy, for enemies unworthy. They mainly wielded blasters, for Force's sake!

Waving off any offered aid, he pointed, "Help them." Directed to the two Jedi for the medics to get to work, hazel eyes turned stern, upon their respectful leader, "Grandmaster, we can't dawdle. If the Queen's assaulting all GA troops, the delegation could be in danger, we should aid them."

 

[Amani Serys]

Alicio Organa - Kha'la Daaray - Damian du Couteau 0 Lady Sylvia Organa - Nos Voros - Kassogtha Cthylla - Caelan Valoren - Jasper Kai'el​

The room was in chaos. Some were injured. Some fought back. Others did as the Queen demanded. That's what Alicio did.

Get everyone else out...

Amani was struck harshly by the request. Not happening, She replied. He couldn't be serious, could he? Yet of course he was. He would not abandon his convictions. His belief in a better path. Even as the Queen bared down on them with threats of death. Amani didn't know whether she wanted to hug him or knock him upside the head.

The distraction gave the Hapan Elite a momentary edge, tripping Amani off her feet and onto her back. She looked up toward the ceiling, and saw her opponent raising the vibrobalde for a coup de grace. Amani reacted with a final, defiant swing of her saber. The guards weapon— and hand— both fell to the ground. A not a moment later, Kha'la called them off. The elite was groaning in pain, still clutching the stump of her wrist, as she was dragged away by two of her comrades. The rest encircled the captive delegation, while the Queen stepped forward to challenge Alicio directly.

"Let your blade speak, Chancellor. If you will not kneel, if you will not accept that your time to interfere is over, then stand and fight. Prove to me that your justice is stronger than my vengeance."

"A-are you mad?!" Amani stuttered. She looked at Alicio, silently begging him not to go through with it. And yet, what better option was there now? There was nothing the Chief Healer could do, but watch and wait. Whatever optimism the battle meditation was instilling in the others, now fell deafly on Amani.

 

[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 -
​

Amani wasn't going to leave without him.

Yeah, I should've seen that coming.

Alicio didn't dare to look back at his wife, but a small flash of warmth passed along their connection. He'd wanted to make sure everyone else could safely extract. But if she was just as set on staying as he was... then he was glad to have her at his back, as selfish as that was. This gambit was a risky one; he was confident he could get out alive if the Queen rejected his final plea, but the others...

"The rest of you, stand down. Focus on securing the exits. Let me deal with the Supreme Chancellor."

Alicio's narrowed eyes sharpened even further at her response, then ticked open with understanding a moment later. She approached from her golden throne, menacing and single-minded. His stance remained relaxed... but the competent duelists in the room could see a coiling of the Chancellor's muscles in anticipation of the Future.

He had offered a walk. She had chosen to dance. But despite her blade pointed at his center mass, Alicio was entirely cool. His brow was furrowed, his eyes sad yet stoic... but not a hint of fear was there to be seen. Only serene acceptance, still as a windless night on the ocean.

"Prove to me that your justice is stronger than my vengeance."

She didn't give him much chance to respond before darting forward with haste, blade poised to run him through.

She was fast. But she was no Val.

Alicio's feet changed position the instant before he would've been skewered, flowing aside the golden blade like water. The back of his hand nudged the blade midair, knocking it to the side, and hopefully causing the queen to go off balance and have to adjust. Alicio used that time to take a quick step away, pull a small black cylinder from his coat, and ignite it.

The Supreme Chancellor was suddenly bathed in cold blue and violent black, as his lightsaber growled to life. Introspect came up in front of his face, then swiped down in an angular salute.

"I accept."

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Corazona von Ascania | Jenn Kryze | Haliat Kryze | Rayia Si

​

Roman's breath hitched, a cold dread settling in his stomach. He hadn't intended to derail the operation, hadn't even realized he had until the chaos erupted. The stealth he had so clumsily abandoned was now replaced by a whirlwind of purposeful violence. He trailed behind, a silent observer to the impressive display that unfolded. Jenn, he noted, was a force of nature. He watched, half-awed, half-terrified, as she moved with a brutal efficiency he hadn't expected. The way she lifted the terrorists into the air, then the sickening snap-hiss of her lightwhip as she dispatched them, it was a dance of death executed with terrifying precision. Even Rayia, wielding her lightsaber with unexpected confidence, moved with a skill Roman hadn't glimpsed before. They were a well-oiled machine, operating at a level of competence he simply couldn't match. He felt like a clumsy observer in a ballet of death. His own skills, such as they were, seemed utterly superfluous in the face of their combined power.

He kept to the back, close to Haliat, who had the good sense to let those with the skills take the lead. Roman's heart pounded in his chest, his sole focus fixed on reaching Cora. The mission now meant nothing compared to ensuring her safety. He wanted to do something, to help in some tangible way, but watching Jenn and Rayia cut through the terrorists, he knew that he could only be a hindrance. So, he followed, his eyes constantly darting toward the direction he hoped Cora was.

The lobby came into view, and Roman's heart dropped like a stone. There she was. Cora, surrounded by terrorists, and a blaster pressed against her temple. A wave of nauseating fear washed over him. The terrorists barked their ultimatum, demanding they drop their weapons. Roman's gaze flicked across the faces of his companions, desperately searching for a flicker of strategy, some sign that this wasn't the end. His hand went instinctively to his empty belt, where his lightsaber usually hung, it was gone. One of the terrorists had snatched it away, a sudden, brutal act that had them pointing a blaster at him. He raised his hands, the chill of the metal boring into the small of his back.

His eyes darted back to Cora, then to Jenn, silently pleading for her to unleash that same fury he had watched minutes before. His mind was racing, desperately hoping that they had something in reserve. He needed them to act quickly.

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Hapes
Tags: Alicio Organa , Nos Voros , Kassogtha Cthylla , Kha'la Daaray , Lady Sylvia Organa , Damian du Couteau , Amani Serys , Caelan Valoren , Orion Pavond , Others...

Lightsaber
​

"I accept."

"Godspeed, Chancellor."

Jasper wasn't going to stop Alicio. This was what he had to do. He had a great deal of respect for the Alderanian noble, and he certainly wouldn't be the one getting in the way of his duty. He had a duty to fulfill himself. Jasper raised his mechanical hand, extending his pinky to reveal a brand new Force Rune that he had cooked up, courtesy of his earlier training with Kahlil Noble where he first learned how to harness the ability. It was a useful tool in his kit that allowed him to contend with his weaker force abilities. This one was fairly simple: Create Water.

The effect was underwhelming. It was as though he had thrown a cup of water into the face of the Hapan warrior in front of him, an amount that seemed pitiful. He couldn't do anything insane, after all, given his limitations... But he could chain runes together.

Freeze came next, a rune he had put to use against Domina Prime to exploit her weakess to ice. A wave of cold energy surged off of the Jedi Master, freezing the head of the Hapan in an instant. He proceeded to pick them up and hurl them towards their comrads, his enhanced mechanical arm increasing the strength of the throw. Several guards would be toppled, clearing a path to the door. Kassogtha Cthylla seemed to be good at keeping the others in check given her total area of movement...

"Out of the way!" she commanded the Hapan royal guards with all of her voices, infusing the words with power. They obeyed, and she began ushering the would-be prisoners out.

And Force influence. Good to keep in mind.

Jasper tore the blast door out of the wall that kept them in the room with his prosthetic, steam billowing out as he did so. He fashioned it in front of him like a shield, turning back to the others.

"Bring du Counteau!" he stated. "Medical personell outside may be able to stablize him! Regardless, we need to go!"

And if the Tetan was fated to die, the least they could do was attempt to get him home. Jasper would carry him back to Teta himself if he had to.

They owed him that much.

 

[Lycus Merita]

Objective Two

The 283rd
Chapter Two: The Siege​

Tags: Ben Khal , Drystan Creed , Aadihr Lidos , Karrys , Azurine Varek ,

---

In the wake of the chaos sowed by their counter-attack, the 283rd was able to withdraw back to the Village in good order. The entering Pathfinders found about a hundred or so survivors left. Major Merita, knowing that when the Hapans returned would finish what they started, ordered that those who couldn't walk be given room on the Puma IFVs while his men dismounted and ran security.

Dog Company would run the rearguard, Easy Company would run flank security, and Gurrcat Company would take up the vanguard. A single road laid between the village and the extraction zone. Forward scouts had reported that Hapan elements had established several roadblocks already.

Merita gritted his teeth. This was far from done.

---

The gun runs of Karrys and Azurine Varek left behind carnage and twisted metal. Hapan anti-air batteries lay smoldering in the fields while infantry cowered in the hedgerows, not daring to peek out with their missile launchers so long as that gunship circled above like a predatory bird.

Commander Iram grimaced at this scene. But she was far from done. If she couldn't challenge these insects from the ground then she would do so from the air.

A Flight Wing of a dozen Miy'til Starfighters was quickly re-routed from a nearby carrier in orbit. These were mostly cadet pilots who had been held in reserve as more experienced crew battled other Alliance forces in the void. What they lacked in experience, they made up for with their near-suicidal recklessness and fanaticism as they shrieked down from above against the Alliance gunship and interceptors. If need be they would ram their dying starfighters into the foe to bring them down.

"Eject these invaders from our lands!" came their cry, "A thousand years to the Empress!"

---

Three times the Hapan armored thrust attacked. Three times they were thrown back by Dog Company entrenched in the village's ruins. Their Main Battle Tanks fell victim to the Puma's side-mounted Tusk Missile Pods and supporting infantry cut down in ambushes by the defenders. Captain Heyliger noted that the Hapans were excellent fighters, maintaining discipline and tenacity despite sustaining heavy casualties. But they were outmatched in the maze-like rubble by his elite light infantry.

Dog Company was only forced to retreat as shells from Commander Iram's artillery began to bracket the village, soon erasing millennia of history in a matter of minutes.

"Anyone seen that damn Jedi?" one of the Pathfinders moaned, "I swear if we have to go back to save his arse..."

---

Gurrcat Company would have half of its Pumas knocked out, and a third of its men become casualties, spearheading the vanguard up the road. In the tales of the 283rd years later, that stretch of road would become known as Alliance Cross Lane. But despite their horrific losses, the Hapan roadblocks were smashed open again and again.

The final roadblock had put up the fiercest resistance. At the last moment, a Hapan Officer drew a Gun of Command on Private Julian, forcing the Pathfinder to turn his blaster on her friends before turning it on herself. Julian had been a well-liked woman throughout the company, capable of scrounging up drinks wherever they were and telling crass jokes. When the Hapan Officer and her surviving troopers attempted to surrender the attacking Pathfinders gunned them down the moment she raised the white flag.

Merita only arrived in the aftermath as the corpses were being burned on the side of the road. He dismounted from his command Puma (that Aadihr Lidos had been placed in).

"I heard over comms that we got POWs?" he asked, approaching the pyre.

"Must have heard wrong, sir," Second Lieutenant Kliken said as he threw a lit cigg into the bonfire and came over. He had a bandage over his right eye stained red, "Or the comms officer got outdated news."

The Major could see right through him.

"We get prisoners. We take prisoners." Merita sneered as he leaned against his subordinate, "No matter how messy things get they're still citizens of the Alliance."

"Even if they had actually surrendered," Kliken said softly, "What position are we in to take prisoners? We're stretched thin as we are with the rear guard, vanguard, and men protecting the civvies. Why do you even care about these bastards? Less than an hour ago they were stringing unarmed and defenceless civvies. I got zero sympathy for them even if they are Alliance citizens, sir."

Merita gazed at the bonfire, its light dancing off his face. Any evidence of this crime floated away with the ash in the wind. He could just look the other way and forget this happened. It wasn't uncommon among soldiers. But he couldn't. He turned back to Kliken, "After this, I'm going to have a talk with you and the men about what happened here."

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Well, that didn't go well.

He had hoped the Chancellor would follow the others because it seemed that his way of speaking wasn't working. Their actions weren't helping things, but at least it had gotten most of them out of the room. Sylvia and Nos remained, along with the Chancellor and Amani(?). There were guards enough to make things troublesome, and the doors to the room closed to keep trouble out and them in. It was a perfect storm of bad things and it had only gone worse and worse as time went on, especially as the Queen challenged the Chancellor to a duel to the death.

"Most unfortunate," he said with a sigh.

Well, he couldn't just let her kill the Chancellor, even if he didn't agree with the man completely. Clearly she had lost her mind. While he did feel entirely peaceful thanks to the battle meld, he didn't feel a choice in the matter. This was the leader of the Alliance being assaulted by a now mad queen. Made mad in part by the accusations, tone and mentality of the numerous people that had come to accost her rather than seek a conversation with her. He was going to have to talk to some people after this about how they handled themselves in such situations. Young or not, he still knew better.

In order to help the Chancellor, he was going to have to take care of the guards first. His eyes drifted to where Nos loomed over Lady Sylvia Organa and gave him a knowing wink. He drew the Force into his legs, relying on the extra strength provided him through he meld, and propelled himself upward like a bowling ball, directly into the gut of one of the guards, the same one holding his lightsaber, which he promptly dropped and Caelan grabbed up before activating it, the white blade with blue and purple highlights springing forth.

"I hold no ill will towards any of you, and afford you all this one chance to not fight," he said to the remainder of the guards, knowing full well they weren't going to back down. "I will do my best not to kill or permanently harm any of you, but that also depends on your own choices."

Caelan detested combat even though it was what he was most suited towards. He'd much rather have them back down, see the craze in their Queen, understand that she was going to fall in this moment and look towards the future. Perhaps some pressure from the battle meditation would help?

---

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

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