Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction [GA] The Hapan Crisis

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Tyrus Vastor stopped in his tracks, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. A group of Hapan families—men, women, and children—were forced to their knees, surrounded by heavily armed guards. Fear radiated from the families like a palpable force, and the guards stood with blasters at the ready, their faces hard and devoid of sympathy.

One of the guards, an officer by his uniform, barked accusations. "Affiliates of the Crimson Veil. Traitors to the Consortium! You'll answer for your crimes." Tyrus inhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain calm. Every instinct screamed at him to act, but years of experience tempered his anger. Adjusting his lightsaber at his belt, he stepped forward. "That's a lot of accusations to level at civilians," he said evenly, his voice laced with an unmistakable edge.

The officer turned, his expression flickering with disdain. "Stay out of this, Jedi. These people are collaborators. We have orders to detain and interrogate anyone suspected of aiding the Crimson Veil."

Tyrus raised an eyebrow. " Excuse me? Interrogate? With kids in the mix? Real classy." He scanned the guards, noting the uneasy shifts in some of their stances.

"You don't understand the stakes," the officer snapped. "The Crimson Veil is tearing the Consortium apart and already is blooded. Anyone helping them is equally as guilty by our directives. We can't risk letting this cancer spread. Pfft why am I explaining myself to the likes of you? Tyrus stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And what evidence do you have? Or are you rounding up entire families because it's easier than doing real investigative work?"

The officer bristled. "We don't answer to you, Jedi. These are Hapan matters," A finger was jabbed at a group of men in cuffs. " You want evidence? These three have already made their allegiances known! So move along and mind your place! Now!"

Tyrus's expression hardened, his Korunnai accent slipping through. "You dragged their wives, daughters and sons into this. It just stopped being just your business." He glanced at the families, meeting their desperate eyes, then turned back to the officers. "You've got two options. Let these families go, and I'll help you track real Crimson Veil operatives. Or you keep playing tyrant, and I'll make it clear to your superiors how you're handling things."

" You dont like this? Take it up with the Qu-"

Before the officer could respond, a flash of movement caught Tyrus's eye. One of the men in the group—a father clutching his child moments before—stood abruptly midst the commotion, pulling a holdout blaster from his sleeve in a flash.

"For the Crimson Veil!" the man shouted!

The blaster bolt whizzed by Tyrus, precognition allowing his frame to shift in place and avoid a glancing blow. The bolt of plasma hit the officer square in the eye leaving a charred mess left where his face used to be. The Korun gaped at the sudden death and then felt the surge of anger and hatred rise from those around him. Chaos erupted. The other guards raised their weapons, their faces twisting with rage. Tyrus's lightsaber snapped to life with a snap-hiss, its purple blade igniting the air as he raised a hand, yanking the blaster from the man's grip with the Force. Putting himself at risk of harm and mediating the conflict, a second later, he disarmed the rest of the families, the weapons flying into his free hand or observed thrown to the side.

"Enough!!" Tyrus's voice boomed over the rising chaos. The guards trained their blasters on the now-unarmed family, their fingers twitching on their triggers.

"They killed one of ours!" one guard yelled. "They're terrorists!"

Tyrus stepped between the family and the guards, his lightsaber held low but ready. "And you'll prove nothing by slaughtering them in cold blood!"

"They confessed!" the guard shouted back, his voice trembling with fury.
"They're disarmed and outnumbered," Tyrus snapped. "You're soldiers, not executioners. Do your duty and take them in alive. Arrest them! And let justice, real justice, decide their fates!!"

The guards hesitated, their anger warring with Tyrus's sense of justice and logic. The family huddled behind him, terrified but silent. Lowering his lightsaber slightly, meeting the lead guard's eyes. "This isn't about vengeance. It's about preventing more bloodshed. You fire now, and you'll only make things worse. You'll just make them matyrs! For kark sake! Now back off and do the right thing."

After a long, tense moment, the lead guard lowered his weapon, motioning for the others to do the same.
"Fine," the guard growled. "But they're coming with us." The Korun extinguished his lightsaber and turned to the family. "You'll face judgment for what you've done. But know you have your lives.." He remarked.

Tyrus turn away reluctantly, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. The oppressive atmosphere of Hapes weighed on him, but he forced himself to focus. He had done what he could to de-escalate the situation. He told himself that it was out of his hands now. These kinds of situations were always messy, but at least the family would live to face a trial. As was the duty of a jedi. This is what the Order would want. What the order would do. Isnt it? He pondered on the conflict that had resolved and walked down the street.

Then turning the corner, he heard it.

A squad of blaster fire followed by quips and shrieks of pain. Frozen mid-step, his blood running cold. He turned around sharply, his dark eyes locking onto the scene he had just left. The family—men, women, and children—lay crumpled on the ground. Smoke rose from their lifeless bodies, the smell of charred flesh seeping into the air. The guards stood over corpses, their weapons still drawn, some holstering their blasters casually as if they had just performed a routine task.

And Tyrus's vision blurred...
 
Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania Haliat Kryze Haliat Kryze Jenn Kryze Jenn Kryze Roman Vossari Roman Vossari
Location: Moonside Inn
Objective: Hostage Rescue


It was hard for Rayia to relax in the moment. She couldn’t help the tension bleeding into her frame as she lifted herself onto the balls of her feet. It felt as if every fiber of her being was stretched taut in the face of the watchful eyes upon her. Rayia knew that it was far more than simply the eyes of her mother upon her. No, the whole galaxy was directing its attention towards Hapes at this very moment.

The uneasiness of that feeling intermingled with the sensation of finally being free to stalk prey. Rayia’s more primal instincts, sated now, led her to shift her weight onto the balls of her feet and retract her claws. The result was that her footsteps made nary a sound, not even a slight tinking of claws on stone. Rayia supposed that she understood why Jenn had elected to keep communication to a minimum. And specifically, in helm. Even so, there was a small part of her that was put out by the realization that she was excluded from conversation this way.

‘It is nice not have to explain though,’ Rayia thought as Haliat and Jenn seemed to take her assessment in stride. After all, her tail doubling as a sensory organ for vibrations and movement was simply an innate part of her. As the group drew nearer however, Rayia’s perception of movement in her vicinity grew sharper and more distinct. Like a film peeled away from a fuzzy lens, the shadowed silhouettes that comprised this mental picture clarified. Not to mention that Rayia’s sharp hearing began to catch wind of a conversation happening just around the bend.

“There’s a fourth person. One of the…hostages… who apparently has a medical condition?” Rayia whispered under her breath as she considered the implications. Somehow, one of the hostages had been allowed to return to their room for medicine. ‘Meaning they’re either a crucial hostage or these people don’t know what they are doing. Honestly, at this point, I’m leaning towards the latter,’ Rayia contemplated and glanced towards Jenn before looking down at her own weapon. The release of the vibroblade had been quiet enough, but Rayia had no chance of drawing Light Fang without alerting the guards. ‘Forget swinging the darn thing. I’m sure the ignition hiss is iconic. There’s no way everyone from here to the Outer Rim doesn’t know it.’

Shrugging, Rayia flexed her clawed fingers. ‘Alright. Dirty it is,’ She acquiesced, tensing as she saw Jenn surging forwards. Rayia took that to be her cue. Without waiting for Jenn to finish, Rayia bolted forwards. She rushed along, low to the ground, as she accelerated towards the second guard waiting by the door. Rayia could feel him aligning a shot and leapt to the side. She used her arm to continue pouncing forwards from all fours, feeling fire pump through her veins as her fangs pierced her lip. The pooling, acrid taste of metal was enough to spur her faster. Muscles and bones moved beneath Rayia’s skin, shearing away and reknitting with newfound tautness.

Rayia reached the man just as his finger was about to squeeze off a shot. She sidestepped, grasping ahold of the man’s arm and wrenching it down towards her. His throat was too far away for her. But with a little positioning, his lungs were in reach. His eyes grew wide with alarm and pain as Rayia stepped into the pull and raked him across the chest with a broad swipe with all of her strength. Felacatian claws could rend durasteel at full strength, and so, the man’s chest was soon ribbons. Rayia flinched away from the blood flecking her cheeks as the man popped like a balloon, gurgling faintly as blood-flaked foam oozed from his mouth. Only Rayia’s grip on the man’s arm, now twisted at a horrid angle, kept him from crashing to the floor. Slowly. Rayia lowered him to the floor and shook her head. Thoughts regarding the senseless nature of his death would have to be filed away for later.

It took Rayia a moment to realize that Jenn was apparently speaking to her, regarding drawing the room’s occupant out. Rayia glanced towards the door, moving to mirror the position of the individual on the other side. “Uh… I can tr-“ Rayia began, only to taper off as she felt a faint flicker of familiarity. More than that, Rayia sensed a strong presence in the Force from this individual. A faint smile played about her lips. “Really? Did they fall for the second oldest trick in the book?” She asked of the room’s occupant.
 
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Gakot Cal

Guest
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Objective Two

Tag:
Serena Harth Serena Harth Vera Noble Vera Noble

The Talons kept flying despite the chaos going all around. While they did so Gakot made sure to broadcast an Alliance recognition code to allied units and the Royalist forces. He didn't know if the latter would hold their fire but they wouldn't be able to claim ignorance if they did and the Talons retaliated. While maintaining course the Klantooian considered the rather open end goal they have here.

In all honesty his commandos weren't intended for peacekeepers, especially between two sides completely determined to kill each other. He can just imagine the media claiming their whole presence was a useless gesture. Even a provoking one that makes things worse. Gakot won't deny that he thinks the high command could've planned the operation more efficiently but he kinda got the feeling that much of the media would blast the Alliance anyway if they had chosen to do nothing or only preach to the Hapans. More or less it's a 'Condemned if you do and condemned if you don't' scenario.

We have selected targets of interest but in all this madness can they even be located?

It was a question that Gakot didn't have time for Sumi, the tech expert besides him and Serena called out via comms.

"We got civilians trapped all over in an apartment complex on the east wing? They been calling for help but all this fighting is preventing that."

Immediately Gakot ordered.

"Set the coordinates sergeant and call in evac and make sure they have med teams on standby."

Subsequently the coordinates were uploaded to everyone including the Jedi and Journalist. The company would swing east and spread out as Gakot directed the four sniper teams to take up positions on the high tower just behind the burning apartment. Seeing the red orangish flames and black smoke consuming the building bit by bit the commando nonetheless landed on the roof.

Turning to Vera he declared. "Hope you're good with sensing people through that force of yours Noble. Because we're gonna need it."

Then he charged ahead and smashed the top door with his left shoulder. Looking down at the stairway filled with ever increasing smoke he frowned. They weren't firefighters and paramedics but right now they're all the people trapped have.

"Platoons One and Four on me!" He declared before running down the steps followed by those mentioned teams. The rest, platoons three and two scattered into smaller squads and flew around break into windows to begin search and rescue.
 
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Haliat Kryze

Heroically seeking a cool nickname.
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| Location | Moonside Inn, top floor
| Objective | Hostage Rescue



Well. If this mission should go awry, as any mission well could in the space of a heartbeat, it certainly wouldn't be for lack of initiative on the part of his fellows. He could muster no true objection to the carnage unfolding before him now, or to the further bloodshed it would ensure. It was what they'd come here for, diplomacy had thus far accomplished about as much as a child's slingshot might against a charging gundark, and he had the comfort in knowing neither of these killers took any pleasure in the task. Still, the part of him which he could make some space for in the back of his mind grieved the cold efficiency of the Alor, the horrific savagery of the Jedi...and of course the action of his own hand.​
Stealth had been ordered, and he was impressed at the efficacy with which it had been enacted. Even so, to actually kill an entire group before any of them realized they were in danger was a feat Haliat had never personally witnessed, and it didn't quite happen here either. As enemies suddenly appeared among them and his fellows began dying, Haliat's target turned from his task of pounding against the door to study this unexpected threat. Unfortunately for the insurrectionist soldier, there was a vast difference between awareness of a danger, and actual understanding. And that transition, that delay, would cost the man his life.​
The gunman's gun hung at his side from his shoulder sling, his hands having just been engaged with the vigorous knocking on his captive's door, but it was coming up into firing position now, even as a sharp inhale presaged a disastrous shout of alarm. Under the circumstances, the Nite Owl could think of only one quick and quiet way to forestall both at the same time. By the time the man had locked eyes with him, Hal had already flipped the grip on his bes'bev and wound his arm back as though he were a child playing with small stones. But childhood had ended long ago; end over end the sharpened beskar flute turned in the air, before abruptly lodging itself squarely and deeply in the poor bastard's throat. The rifle fell once more, forgotten as the dying man reflexively scrabbled at the wound, but Haliat had no intention of allowing this to draw out a moment longer than necessary.​
"I'm sorry."
Even without his helmet speaker engaged, even though he had not raised his voice to utter them, it was possible the soldier might have heard these words. Haliat had closed the distance with quick, if still careful steps, seizing his man by the back of the neck to pull him in, even as his sword stabbed upward into the torso to swiftly emerge out the back via the heart. This done, he pulled the now lifeless body in still closer to stop its fall, lowering it gently and quietly down onto the badly stained floor. Hardly a painless death, and none could call it clean, but it was at least quick. And then, he would think of it no more until he had the luxury of it, instead freeing both his blades and shaking what blood he could off into the rapidly expanding pool of it.
What he DID have the luxury of was some momentary confusion at the familiarity in Rayia's tone, though even then he felt a bit foolish for it after a moment. Right, of course. The ever so mysterious but obviously versatile Force at work. Suddenly feeling the task Jenn had set them was well in hand already, he added his piece all the same.
"We're not Crimson Veil. You're safe, for the moment. Please, come out and tell us what you know so we can help the rest."
 
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Roman Vossari Roman Vossari | Jenn Kryze Jenn Kryze | Haliat Kryze Haliat Kryze | Rayia Si Rayia Si

Moonside Inn Hostage Crisis

Cora was beginning to think that she'd have to jam her heel into Roman's foot in order to get a reaction out of him - fortunately, he'd caught on before that was necessary.

The perfectly healthy Padawan played his part with exaggerated effect, so much so that it was almost comical to Cora. A smile twitched at her lips, but she quickly stilled it in favor of a grave frown. As he stumbled out of the room, whimpering and groaning over his escort, Cora let out a short exhale of relief.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder. Cora turned in surprise to find the Twi'lek woman, her icy blue features creasing with concern.

"Will he be alright?" she whispered.

Cora's heart dropped a beat, but she shook her head slowly. "He should be," she said. "As long as he gets his medicine."

She glanced down to the children clutching their mother's skirt. One blue, the other red. They stared up at her with wide eyes full of fear, and she could only respond with an encouraging smile.

The Twi'lek nodded solemnly. "Are you Hapan?" she asked.

"No," Cora shook her head. "I'm from Ukatis."

The woman looked upwards in thought. "Ukatis…" she murmured. Cora smiled faintly in understanding.

"It's a small agricultural planet in the inner rim, near Kiffu. We're not particularly well known for anything."

There'd been no shortage of bloody rebellions in Ukatian history. It was strange to imagine a group of insurgent woman bringing the patriarchal planet to a standstill. It was even stranger still, to grasp that Hapan men occupied the same place in the social hierarchy as Ukatian women.

With that thought came a surge of empathy for the Crimson Veil's plight, but it was complicated by their deadly methods. The Queen Mother's scorched earth policy wasn't helping to make her look like the sympathetic party - or the winning one - if the news broadcast was to be believed.

One of the terrorists stepped forward, and her attention snapped to him. The man gestured towards the singular exit where Roman had disappeared earlier.

"What kind of heart condition did you say he had?"

"I didn't," Cora said. It wasn't hard for her to play the part of a miffed noblewoman. "It was cardio…myo…rhythm…something, I forget what the doctor said." She wave a dismissive hand.

"Arrhythmia?" The guard offered.

"Yes," Cora snapped her fingers. "Yes, that was it. He has arrhythmia."

The guard took another step forward. "I used to be a nurse," he said. His voice was low and leading, bordering on accusatory. "It's unusual for an arrhythmia to cause that much pain. They cause dizziness and fainting."

A second guard reached for his radio. “Status check,” he inquired to the man who’d escorted Roman upstairs.
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Aiden turned as Erran approached, the extended hand drawing his attention. He gave the man a firm handshake, his grip steady and professional.

"Aiden Rennek," he introduced himself, his voice level but carrying a hint of grit. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment at the offer. "Appreciate the heads-up. I'll roll with 4th Platoon — better to land in one piece than test my luck."

He released the handshake and glanced toward the shuttles lined up in the hangar, the air buzzing with the steady hum of engines powering up. Soldiers filed into position, their movements efficient and focused, and the weight of what lay ahead settled deeper over the group.


"Let's move," Aiden said simply, falling in step with Erran as they headed toward the shuttle. His boots clanked softly against the deck as he climbed aboard, his blaster rifle slung securely over his shoulder. The interior of the shuttle was tight but familiar, the rows of seats filled with soldiers running final checks on their weapons and gear.

Aiden secured himself into a seat, his expression calm but his eyes scanning the faces of those around him. These were the people he'd fight alongside — the ones he'd rely on, and who would rely on him. The camaraderie was unspoken but understood.

The shuttle's engines whined as the boarding ramp began to close, sealing them in. Aiden leaned his head back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes briefly, centering himself for what was to come. The vibrations of the ship intensified as it lifted off, and the faint hum of the comms filled the cabin as mission control confirmed their descent trajectory.

Opening his eyes, Aiden glanced at Erran across the cabin and gave him a slight nod. "Let's make it clean down there," he said, his tone calm but edged with resolve. "No screw-ups."

The shuttle banked slightly, its descent beginning. The planet's surface loomed closer with every passing second, and Aiden's focus sharpened, ready for whatever was waiting for them below.





 


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Tag: Gakot Cal Serena Harth Serena Harth
Vera's eyes scanned the smoke-filled horizon as they descended toward the burning apartment complex. Her jaw tightened at the sight of flames licking the sides of the building and civilians trapped behind crumbling walls. Chaos seemed to pour out of every corner, but Vera's senses expanded far beyond the visible, reaching through the Force to grasp the threads of life and danger tangled within the structure.

She caught Gakot's declaration and nodded firmly, her expression sharp but focused. "I'm ready, Captain," she called back. "I'll find them."

Her gaze flicked to Serena briefly, and her tone softened as she addressed the journalist. "Stay close to me," Vera said, her voice calm but edged with reassurance. "If things go sideways, I'll shield you. Nothing's getting through me, I promise."

The weight of that promise settled on her shoulders, but it only fueled her resolve. She glanced at the camdroid hovering around Serena, its lens capturing every tense second. The people watching would need to see the truth, and it wasn't just the chaos — it was the efforts being made to save lives.

As the Talons spread out and began smashing through windows and doors, Vera closed her eyes briefly, centering herself. Her connection to the Force rippled outward, brushing against the frantic energy of civilians trapped within the inferno. She sensed their fear, their pain, and their desperation. Her hands clenched tightly around her lightsaber hilt as she began to call out.

"Two life signs in the northeast wing!" she shouted, pointing toward a lower-level floor. Vera pushed deeper into the burning building with Gakot and the others, her senses acting like a guiding beacon. "Captain! Four more, southeast corner." There were so many of them.

How could they possibly help everybody?




 

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What had happened was wrong. Where it came from was wrong. What started all of this all those thousands of years ago was wrong. It was another extreme on another, cascading as one side demanded the other pay the ultimate price. It simmered, it boiled, and now not even the water seemed to remain in the pot as it threatened to catch everything around it on fire. Nothing was perfect, Kahlil knew. But as he stepped from yet another clash between the Crimson Veil and the Hapan military, he could feel just how wrong this all was.

The most terrifying part for him was that it wasn't being influenced by some darker force pulling the strings. It was just centuries of hate unable to do anything but burn now. Even his wife was set upon by the Hapan military itself, not this terrorist group. No one could see friend from foe.

He wiped the mud from his face, one hand holding his saber still as he looked for another clash. Another group of people caught in the crossfire. He couldn't stop the war himself, but he would make sure anyone he found who didn't want to be in this fight wasn't made to be. It was sobbing that pulled him from this mission, though. He paused his grim walk, glancing down to a man he knew well. A boy he'd never seen break down like this in all the years he'd known him. Helped to raise him.

Kahlil's heart broke. He'd gotten so used to fighting against the Sith and the actual evil they brought that fields like this that a Jedi wasn't supposed to be the blade. No, Jedi simply weren't a blade to begin with. He stepped over, boots thudding in the mud before he dropped to one knee and held out a hand. He put on a kind smile as he always did.

"I need your help, Shan. We're doing this all wrong. Help me save everyone."

Shan Shan
 

That voice. It was one of few voices that felt like family to him. One of the few voices that could snap him out of his emotional distress. It was also oen of the voices he needed to hear right now. To remind him that he wasn't alone in this battle. He could have dozens of other Jedi by his side, and he'd still have felt alone. But one Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble was enough for him to motivate himself. To convince Shan to get back up to his feet. After all, Kahlil was one of Shan's brightest role models. Whilst Kahlil was known as the Shield of the Jedi, Shan wanted to be a wall. Walls might crumble, but they can always be rebuilt.


He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, trying not to stain his face with any of the smoke or blood on said sleeve. He had to get up. This wasn't the time for him to break down. He could do that back at the temple. Right now, he had to protect who he could. You can't save everyone. Shan knew that. He had known it for a long time. After all, working in the medical field would have him experience that plenty, but today was the first time he ever felt like that. These were people he shouldn't have had to save in the first place. It was almost ironic if he thought about it. The belief he had in people and their innate goodness was one of his strongest defences against the Dark Side, but at the same time it was also his strongest weaknesses when it came to seeing the hatred and evil non-force sensitives could do.

"Of course. We can do this. It's just...not right."

Not right. But it was also not wrong. Both sides had their own points. Their own faults. But he had to shove that thought from his mind. He couldn't concern himself about if what he was doing was right or wrong. He'd save people. That was what he did. He didn't pick sides. Shan reached up for Kahlil's hand, lifting himself up.

"What do you need me to do?"




 

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"Feel."

Kahlil helped Shan to his feet with a firm grasp. His gaze turned to the field around. He could hear the combat in the distance, blaster fire and explosions. People were so full of their hate, their anger. "The resentment that's been festering all throughout the Hapan cluster, we can feel it in the air. Resentment that breeds more resentment unending. It needs to come to a stop. They need calm."

Stay safe. I'm going to be pulling a lot.

You know I've got your back.


He held his other hand out between him and Shan as the Force shifted. His smile grew, just a bit. He pulled drastically on the dyad he shared with Valery Noble Valery Noble to a degree that could and would leave them both weakened if he kept it up. He had no intention of stopping, even with that reality in the back of his mind. Runes etched across his palm, floating just in the air above it before it spiderwebbed out, tracing a complex array that seemed to suddenly consume the very grasslands they were standing in with light. Focus.

"Give them calm."

The array activated. A beacon to spread all across the Hapes Cluster, to the Jedi all trying to help save the lives here. He'd learned how to adapt a song long forgotten. A Jedi was never truly alone. And now each was going to help broadcast it for all to hear. He looked up to the stars above before his eyes closed. He was going to focus on keeping that bridge open. What came next?

"Give them hope, Shan."

It was Shan's belief that no one should be killed that had inspired Kahlil when the boy was still just a Padawan. Now he could inspire not just the Order, but everyone else.

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

Zaiya froze for a split second, her rosy gold skin blanching to pale silver as realization struck. It wasn't the Crimson Veil -- it was the Hapans. Her heart sank, and her mind scrambled to piece together why the very people they'd come to help were turning on them.

"Wait! Please stop!" Zaiya shouted, her voice cracking as she raised her hands, spots rippling with vivid yellow streaks of alarm. But her plea was lost in the chaos as blaster fire erupted, and the situation spiraled faster than she could react.

A grenade arced toward her position, and her breath hitched, but it was deflected midair, sent hurtling back harmlessly by Jack's quick intervention. Relief was fleeting. The Hapans advanced, their blaster bolts relentless. If words weren't enough, maybe stopping a few would give them the chance to reason.

"Please, we're from the Jedi Order!" she cried again, her bioluminescent stripes glowing with a kaleidoscope of alarm and frustration. Domxite gave a hum, reminding her to keep her focus and reason. Do not react emotionally!

Right!

Zaiya's bioluminescence brightened, streaks of cobalt blue mingling with orange determination. She thrust out a hand, reaching through the Force to yank the two of the soldier's' weapons away, trying desperately to disarm them.

But then Jack darted ahead, violet blade flashing as he intercepted more fire. His movements were precise, cutting through blasters with deft strikes, though it left him dodging a flurry of vibroknives from their relentless attackers.

"Stop!" she shouted, voice straining with effort. All the while, her mind raced, her mottled spots shifting to a muted amber of thoughtfulness. Why were they attacking? The Hapans weren't acting out of desperation -- they were precise, purposeful. This wasn't a misunderstanding; it was a message.

But the question would have to wait. Right now, survival was the only answer.

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Kha'la rose from her throne, her expression icy and her eyes blazing with fury, as if the room itself bowed under the weight of her presence. Her voice rang out, clear and commanding, yet laced with venom, cutting through the tense air like a blade.

"Refine my response?" she repeated Alicio's words with a mocking tone, a sardonic smile curling at her lips. "Chancellor Organa, how generous of you to offer such wisdom on how a Queen should rule her people." A people they clearly knew nothing about. Nothing. Yet here they stand, lecturing her about how to rule her people.

She wasn't tolerating it any longer.

She stood in silence for a long moment, letting the cacophony of voices — of pleading, accusations, and reasoning — wash over her. She allowed them their moment, the diplomats and Jedi who spoke of justice, restraint, and reconciliation. But their words did little more than stoke the fire within her. Her grief, her anger, her unrelenting thirst for vengeance roared louder than any voice in the chamber.

Her jaw tightened, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Finally, she took a step forward, her presence towering, her voice cutting through the hall like the crack of thunder.

"You speak of justice. Of peace. Of the sanctity of life," she said, her tone growing sharper with every word. "And yet, where was your peace when my brother's blood was spilled? Where was your justice when the Crimson Veil desecrated the very heart of my people? You come here to lecture me, to placate me with promises of due process and restraint, while my people burn. While Hapan blood continues to stain the stars."

Her gaze snapped toward Amani, her words a dagger aimed at the First Lady. "You speak of crimes against my own people, as if I have abandoned them. You know nothing of what I carry and what my people need. My people demand vengeance! They march not because I force them to but because they will not kneel to terror! You dare to suggest I step aside? That I am unfit to rule? No! You will not strip me of my crown while my enemies still breathe."

Kha'la's eyes swept the room, her fury palpable, her voice steady with conviction.

"Hapes has stood strong for thousands of years. We have survived when others crumbled. We have thrived where others faltered. And now you would dare interfere in our sovereignty? You would strip me of my duty to protect my people? No. I will not allow it."

The Queen turned to her Royal Guard, her voice unyielding, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"Secure the Palace."

"No one is to leave. The delegation will remain here, under guard, until I see fit to release them. Any resistance will be met with an iron hand."

The Royal Guard moved immediately, their weapons raised and their stances firm. Their loyalty to the Queen was absolute, their training unmatched. The Palace, the most secure fortress in the Hapan Cluster, was locked down in an instant, its defenses nearly impenetrable.

Kha'la's gaze shifted to her assistant, her tone cold and resolute.

"Relay my orders to the Royal Navy and our armies. The Alliance and its Jedi are no longer welcome in the Hapan Cluster. They are to be fired upon or removed by force if they interfere further. Hapes will take back control, and I will see to it that no outsider dictates our path again."

She turned back to the room, her emerald eyes blazing with righteous fury.

"You came here to lecture me, to undermine my authority. But let me make this clear — Hapes answers to no one. Not the Alliance. Not the Jedi. No one. I will root out the Crimson Veil and all who support them. I will bring justice to my brother, to my people, and to our Cluster."

Her voice dropped, low and venomous, her final words like a storm on the horizon.

"Resist me, and you will find no mercy. Stand in my way, and you will fall."

With that, Kha'la stood tall, her fury radiating like fire, her grief twisting into an unrelenting hunger for vengeance. The Queen of Hapes had spoken, and her will was absolute.


 


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"Everyone wants to arrive in one piece," Erran replied, "Sometimes we're lucky. Others...not so much." Erran nodded curtly and walked with Aiden towards 4th Platoon's dropship. They clambered onboard and settled in, awaiting the dropship's departure.

Clearance came and went, and the dropship hurtled toward the planet below them.

"Let's make it clean down there," Aiden said to Erran. "No screw-ups."

Erran met Aiden's gaze and smiled slightly under his helmet, "Screw-ups aren't in my repertoire, brother," Erran stated. "But you know what they say; no plan survives first contact with the enemy. This one won't be any different. Get ready to be fluid."

"Oh, and by the way," Erran sent a quick message to Aiden, which contained his squad's short-range radio frequency. "If you lose us on primary, switch to secondary, we'll be there."

The trip down was quick and easy. They didn't encounter AA fire or unknowns and could dismount on target and begin the ruck-in.

"Send up spotter drones," Erran told his squad's drone operator, "Find me secondary access points if you can."

They continued toward the mine, approaching the entrance quickly.

Erran's comm cracked to life, and he heard Commander Tamil's voice, "The Hapan's made an in-system jump. We tried to stall them, but they've already sent a dropship with Royal Guards to the surface. You need to step it up. They're not responding to hails so-" the commander's line crackled into static.

"Commander, do you copy?" Erran replied. Still static. "Kriffing hell, try to get him back," Erran stated to squadron communications officer.

"Sir," Erran's squadmate said, getting his attention, "There's a small ventilation shaft about a click north." He showed Erran his drone screen, which showed a small ventilation shaft uncovered and inoperative. "Good work. Keep the drone hovering, and send a live feed to Aiden's HUD."

"Aiden, I'm taking my squad straight through the front. I'm going loud. My operator found a secondary entrance; he's sending you the coordinates and live feed. You can get in as we draw attention to the main entrance unless you have another plan."

Erran's squads closed in on the mine entrance and flowed into the darkness. It was eerily quiet, but Erran doubted it would stay that way for long.

Aiden Rennek Aiden Rennek | OPEN


 
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(Tags: Valery Noble Valery Noble , Zaiya Ceti Zaiya Ceti )

A Force wave that had five of the Hapan soldiers flying backwards, without intent to perform serious harm, leaving them dazed as backs slammed with enough impact through walls and lamppost. Jack re-ignited the amethyst blade, twitching it preparedly as-

Hazel eyes widened. A chilling breath escaped his lips, the Force ramping in his ears.

Something's gone wrong.

The great disturbance that shred the air of Hapes almost leaving the man vulnerable, twin lightsabers ignited to start blocking and batting from the new tidal wave of blaster volleys, determined to gun the interlopers down with a blaze of hot retribution, their determined matched by a bigotry ingrained to be one, tragic fundemantal of their culture.

It was no coincidence the majority of shots were aimed for the male Knight of the trio, but at least it took some heat off from his allies. Even if he was being pushed back by the wide volley, amethyst and azure batting in blurs of sheer stamina and fierce willpower.
 

Give them calm? Give them hope? That was an ask for Shan when his own emotions were swirling around. His own belief in hope was struggling. But he had to have faith. He had to believe in himself as he focused on the Force, closing his eyes to dull one of his senses so that he could heighten the rest of his senses. To feel all of the emotions around him as the Mirialan focused on it all. Anger. Hatred. Pain. He had to take in their feelings before he could start to let his own feelings out.

Anger. That was something Shan used to feel plenty, but had always hidden it. It had never been anger towards other people however. It had always been towards himself. He had been his own worse critic. That he wasn't good enough. But Corazona helped him to find calm with that. To be more lenient with himself. All thanks to the lessons Kahlil had given her. So that was what he focused on, to feel calm. To let the anger he felt around him slowly deflate. Fading into a sensation of calm.

Hatred. That was...a strange emotion for Shan. Most would have accepted that as a Jedi, he'd have felt hatred towards the enemy of the Jedi, such as the Sith. But no, those who felt sympathy for. He cared for the Sith, in his own way. There was a specific Sith that he was still searching for as well. It was one of his own goals to help them. But none of those thoughts would help to relieve the hatred he felt. No. Instead he had to focus on someone he had actually hated. His father. The man who let Shan's mother get kidnapped. The man who tried to kill Shan after telling him that. The hatred he felt towards his father when he knocked the poor excuse of a man out. The fact that the first ever person in his life he wanted to kill had been his father. But he didn't. He didn't forgive his father either, but Shan had known that violence wouldn't have solved it. That was how he had confronted his own hatred. He had also confronted his hatred towards the Mandalorians, thanks to Jenn Kryze Jenn Kryze . He had learned violence was not the answer with his father, but Jenn had taught him something more important. She had taught him how to find acceptance.

Pain. Now that was something Shan had been very familiar with. Both physically and to an extent mentally. It was relatively easy to heal physical pain. Rest, proper care and the Force. But mental pain had been a struggle for him. Emotional pain. The way he had dealt with that was by surrounding himself with the people he loved. Shan cared for many people, but there were a select few that had helped him figure out how to deal with his pain. Valery Noble Valery Noble , Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble and the rest of the Nobles had been like family to him. They had helped him deal with the emotional pain of losing his own family. Colette Colette had helped him deal with the pain of loneliness and a lack of confidence. Even if they weren't together anymore, she had still taught him to find more confidence in himself. And then when he had to deal with the pain of being uncertain of his path, of who he should be, there was Ko Vuto Ko Vuto and Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania . All of them had helped him to find some form of peace.

And so that was what Shan projected out through the force. How his anger became calm. How his hatred became acceptance. And then how the pain in his life had lead to him finding a form of peace.


 


"We've got some heavy equipment landing, mostly medical. And a few teams of people. I can see what I can do, but…" He held his lightsaber up, waving the extinguished weapon at the local area. "I'm not a Jedi, so can't make any magical healing promises. My droids got the coordinates where a few Shepherds are landing, one with medical equipment. I can work with your teams to get people out of the hot zones."
"I have been trained in combatant first aid. Beyond that...I'm great at destruction, not so much on the life saving. Sorry."

"Zhea Nox. Gentleman with the medpac over there is Markram. We can use all the help you can give - especially those ships! Most of these people have been stabilised already, if one of you can get them to your ships so long for proper care. Markram can show you who. I need to get to the totaled transport. I still sense some people trapped in there, if one of you can help me there." Zhea spoke to both of them as she finished healing the healable wounds on the child and getting to her feet.

Not waiting to see if they would help at all, she rushed to the totaled transport quite a couple of yards away. As she was running, some of her men behind her, she noticed another, larger transport screeching to a halt a ways from the other side. Not long after, the Sage spied at least one of the figures also rushing for the transport, a large mop of strange hair on the head.

Getting closer, Zhea could sense the Force with the other woman. A soothing one. One that could be trusted. Behind her, some of her men were now engaging scattered forces, though Hobbs was still at her side. "Jedi Master Zhea Nox!" she introduced herself to Echo Athoth Echo Athoth as she ran up.

Sliding to her knees in the rain and mud, Zhea tried to find a way to get to those trapped inside. The pain and panic from within flooded through her, making her breath catch and just renewing the horror at what is transpiring on this planet and starting to spill over onto others in the Consortium.
"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."

It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, they can save more lives.
 
Diplomat of Ukatis
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"Secure the Palace."
"No one is to leave. The delegation will remain here, under guard, until I see fit to release them. Any resistance will be met with an iron hand."

After Alicio's blunt comment and the views expressed by the Alliance, Raigryn could see how events had turned.

The Queen provided a rebuke in no uncertain terms. After the murder, she was not going to be deterred if it made her position seem weak.

Here, in this forum, she could not be seen to back down. Not for public image, not for her own desire for vengeance.

What a remarkable partner, Raigryn thought to himself, it must have taken to woo such a woman.

A few guards closed in, but there were no weapons. Raigryn gave a slow nod of his head towards them; he was not going to make any trouble.

"We need," he muttered quietly so that only a few from the Alliance delegation could hear, "To find her trusted advisors who might see the value of a more moderate approach."

They needed allies and they needed a message that could convey strength, whilst allowing the Alliance to show that it had moderated fairly without meddling. The Queen had been quite clear in her requirements.

A path forward that preserved her strength. She could not have been more clear.
 

Jasper, who stood alongside senator Yumia, was prepared for what he heard. Hostility. Immediately hostility. Soldiers poured in around them, armed and ready to strike. This was a decleration of war against the Galactic Alliance, and worst of all their Chancellor was here. The leader of the free galaxy. All pretense of being there to see an end to conflict came to an end. This was about survival now.

The Jedi Master stepped forward, taking his place in front of the gathered delegates. He activated his distress beacon, signaling to any nearby GA allies that the delegation had gone south.


"Resist me, and you will find no mercy. Stand in my way, and you will fall."

"What a brave leader you are," Jasper hissed. "What courage it takes to slaughter."

With that, Jasper raised a device into the air: An EMP grenade. It went off bright as a beacon, loud at that. The shock-wave would rip through the room and fry any equipment without the proper protection. Lightsabers, alongside Jasper's surge-protected mechanical arm, would be all that remained active unless any other equipment was expressly protected against EMP attacks. Jasper drew his orange secondary lightsaber from his flight suit, handing it to Nos Voros Nos Voros before preparing himself.

"Form up around the delegates!" the Master called out, "Our priority is immediate evacuation of the structure! It's over!"


And so that was what Shan projected out through the force. How his anger became calm. How his hatred became acceptance. And then how the pain in his life had lead to him finding a form of peace.

"Ataboy, greenie," Jasper grinned, letting the meld wash over him. "Here we go."

Jasper prepared an opening stance, one he learned from training with the Matukai. He was about to fight an army. This was what it meant to be a defender of the light. His body in service to the Force. It was time to get to work.

No pressure.


 

Roman felt the familiar hum of anticipation in his chest, the calm before the storm. He stood poised, ready to explode into action. He was ready to time his exit perfectly, the perfect moment to strike and slip away, but then a ripple in the Force, a sudden shift in the energy around him, caught his attention. It was a presence, several of them in fact, and they were moving with a purpose, a purpose that had nothing to do with the bumbling guards he had just tricked. He quietly shut the door, the lock clicking softly in the sudden silence. He pressed his ear against the cool door, trying to discern the commotion outside. Murmurs of grunts, the shuffle of feet, all signs of increased activity. Then, a voice, a clear, confident voice, cut through the noise, a voice that sent a jolt of recognition through him.

Roman stepped back from the door, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber, his fingers tracing the worn metal. He was ready to fight his way out if he had to, but the Force was telling him to wait, to be patient, but then laughter rang out through the door way. A playful joke. He released the lock and swung open the door to reveal the source of the mirth.

Standing in the hallway was a woman, a familiar Jedi he had seen around, though their paths had never formally crossed. Behind her stood two figures clad in unique armor, one a familiar shade of blue, the one that he knew from Cora's stories, she was a good friend to his Master. It was a relief, but a confusing one.

"It was rather easy to convince them," Roman replied, a hint of amusement in his own voice. He glanced past the Jedi to the others, his eyes lingering for a moment on the one in blue, a name, a story, just on the tip of his tongue. He then cleared his throat, "I'm assuming you are here for Cora." Roman watched them all carefully, his mind already strategizing, assessing possible risks and advantages. "She's in the basement with the rest of the hostages and a handful of these guards." he said, gesturing with a nod to the bodies now scattered in the hallway. "Roman Vossari." he said with a smile, extending a hand towards each of them.

Before any of them could respond, a crackle from the downed guard's radio broke the brief stillness. Roman's eyes widened, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He swiftly moved past the others, snatched the radio from the ground, and cleared his throat, deepening his voice. "Uh. All good up here. Just calming the guy down now." he said, his tone even and controlled. He turned back to the group, a wry smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Now, how about we go get Cora?"
 
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OBJECTIVE 1
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Outfit: Senate Commando Armor
Full Kit Deployment:

"Execute contingency Order 117"

The message was received by the rest of Rubrus squad and relayed to all fireteams and beyond, to all GADF in the Vicinity of the Hapes Cluster. The senators were held hostage and rescue attempts would begin.

Outside the palace, trained sights fired, dropping royal guards. A CQB Squad with a riot shield, heavy laster cutter, and breach charges advanced upon the palace under surpressing blaster fire.

...

Nos barely had time to issue the command before the situation escalated. He squeezed Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa hand, offering her assurance that he would protect her with his life.

"Form up around the delegates!" the Master called out, "Our priority is immediate evacuation of the structure! It's over!"

The Jedi had tossed him a lightsaber - a weapon with which he had only seen in action. It couldn't be too different from a baton.

As he caught the lightsaber, he saw the EMP about to detonate - raw instinct guided Nos to pull Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa down on the ground behind a legislative bench as the electromagnetic pulse went off, disabling the heads-up display of Nos's visor. Nos drew his Combat Pistol, thankful he had chosen a combustion-based projectile weapon as his sidearm.

Nos flipped the switch on the lightsaber, startled by the weightlessness of the blade and the sudden light. Time was of the utmost importance, especially if he were to capitalize on the EMP from Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el

As the Jedi moved, Nos rose to his feet, firing three slugs at each royal guard - two at center mass, third at the head - nine out of 10 shots in the magazine - ducked down into cover once more, releasing the magazine and retaining the slug in the chamber. He brought the pistol down against the exterior of his armor, sliding a waiting magazine from his into the pistol 's grip. Covering his ward with his body. He passed the lightsaber to Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa and ushered her to crawl along the benches towards the other delegates "Go, cut the door open with that, I'll buy time."

Nos holstered the pistol and pulled the thigh-strapped Scattergun, switching off the safety and calling back to the Senator, "Sylvia... I love you, I always have - Get out of here alive." For some reason, Nos struggled to get the words out, his voice choking up halfway through.

He thought he didn't fear death, but the look in the Senator's eyes taught him in a painfully jarring glance that he very much did. Why did he spend his life worrying about things that didn't matter when what really mattered was in front of him all along, attending hearings and filing paperwork, falling asleep at her desk after pulling overtime and pretending she didn't notice when Nos was overwhelmed and wanted to disappear.

Nos turned away, stood, and began firing the scattergun to cover for the evacuation.

Kha'la Daaray Kha'la Daaray | Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el | Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa | OBJECTIVE 1 | All GADF forces​
 
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