Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction [GA] The Hapan Crisis

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

Yep, there's the pump for battle again...

Before he even knew it, Jack had both azure and amethyst blades switched on, humming in the metal confines with a note of eagerness, hazel eyes stern in determination.

And before either knew it, the Jedi Knight leaped into the fray, descending like a Hawk-bat swooping for prey, landing smack-dab in the centre of fire, a shadow that startled several of the elite attempting to fight and kill for their hardened, battle-fury queen. A grim smirk was the last they saw.

As two bodies collapsed onto steel ground, heads rolling on the aftermath, twin lightsabers decapitated in swift, Shien efficiency. Jack spun one into reverse hold, standing between the means for evacuation, and the enemies way ahead, surrounded by infantry and turrets that promised a world of retribution.

His smile alone just said, Bring it.
 
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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

"You're doing great, Zaiya," she said, her voice calm but certain. "It's okay to be nervous. It means you care. But don't let it stop you — let it sharpen you."

Feeling Valery's reassuring press of her hand on her shoulder brightened the Lovalla Padawan's hues for a moment, and Zaiya followed up with a grateful and emotive smile.

"Okay, Grandmaster," she replied, reverting to the title out of respect. She took a deep breath and settled her thoughts, going over her previous training, what she might expect to see once they land, and what would be the best way she could support them all.

If they were extracting the delegation, then not only would they need to bypass any hostile security, but also be as in tune as they could be to work together as a unit.

Knight Wright was quick to delve into the fray, tackling on the blaster bolts headed their way by turrets. With Domxite perched on her shoulder, the Lovalla teenager followed behind, using the Force to strategically place a force shield then reverting to the use of her stun and EMP pearls to stun and incapacitate a few of the soldiers.

She opened her mind to Domxite, doing her best to flow with them and use their senses as well to work as one. The more and more they did this together, the easier it was for the droid and the Lovalla Padawan to resonate and connect with each other, almost in tune as she was with Aris. It confirmed her theory -- the more she opened herself up to someone, at least through the Force, the more the bond would grow, allowing Zaiya to connect with Domxite in the first vestiges of a familial bond.

It was reassuring amidst the chaos and battle. To not be alone.

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Kha'la had never been pushed like this before.

Every battle she had ever fought had been one of skill, elegance, and control. She had trained under the finest duelists on Hapes, had learned the dance of the blade with the precision of a warrior-queen. But this — this was different. Alicio did not fight with mere training. He fought with experience. With instinct.

She couldn't land a single strike.

Her blade flashed in golden arcs, each movement calculated to carve through his guard, but he was already moving, already turning her own aggression against her. And then — suddenly — he changed.

The shift was immediate. His tempo accelerated, his footwork tighter, more invasive. Feints and probing cuts tested her defenses, forcing her to react rather than dictate. She tried to adjust, to meet his pace, but for the first time in a duel, she was no longer in control. He was pressing in too fast, forcing her back step by step.

Then pain.

The tip of his blade struck her thigh — a searing, burning pain that tore through the layers of fine cloth and bit into flesh. Kha'la staggered, but she clenched her jaw and held her ground. Her grip on the sword tightened. She still had her weapon—

Until she didn't.

A flash of blue, a flicker of speed, and a precise grazing slash across her knuckles sent the weapon clattering to the marble floor.

Kha'la froze.

Her emerald eyes locked onto the blade lying at her feet, her chest rising and falling with sharp, controlled breaths. Pain throbbed in her leg, but she barely acknowledged it. Instead, she looked up at Alicio, her teeth gritted, her expression a mix of fury and reluctant realization. Her mind raced. This wasn't just about the fight. This was about power. About control. About what came next.

Half-crouched, she hovered over the fallen blade, her fingers twitching slightly, torn between reaching for it and the creeping weight of something she had never felt before.

Defeat.



The throne room had become a storm of battle.

Nos moved fast. Too fast. The Hapan guards were elite, well-trained, but the commando was an entirely different breed of soldier. The woman wielding the electrostaff barely had time to register his scattergun before he fired — her head snapped back, blood splattering against the pristine walls as she collapsed, dead before she hit the ground.

But the others did not falter.

Nos's shotgun had barely left his hands when the second guard lunged at him, their vibrosword flashing in a precise, practiced arc. But Nos was already moving, shoulder-checking the woman with the electrostaff and grabbing for her weapon. His grip was firm, yanking her forward just enough to throw off the second attacker's swing, forcing them to readjust.

The guard with the vibrosword pivoted, aiming to slice at Nos's side, trying to use the momentary chaos to land a hit before he could turn the stolen electrostaff against them.

Meanwhile, Caelan had already countered his opponents with expert precision. His lightsaber deflected the initial thrust to his midsection, the glowing blade redirecting it just enough to send the strike off-course. Then, as the second guard swept for his legs, he reacted with an almost mechanical efficiency — his foot came down hard, enhanced by the Force, snapping bone with a sickening crack.

The guard crumpled with a cry of pain, clutching his shattered limb. But there was no time to celebrate victory. More were coming.

"Move in!" Captain Lorana ordered, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Additional guards rushed in from the corridor, their vibroswords raised, their formation tightening. Some moved to reinforce the fight against Nos and Caelan, others stood ready to intervene should the Queen require aid.

Lorana, however, had her own target.

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her vibrosword as she strode forward, her long braid swaying with each determined step. She had seen enough. The Queen had demanded this fight, but the Jedi and their allies had turned it into a battle of survival. She wasn't going to let it continue.

Her icy blue eyes locked onto Caelan, then flickered to Nos. A flick of her wrist and she raised her sword in challenge, its shimmering steel glinting under the throne room's light.

"You should have left when you had the chance," she said, her voice low and sharp as she closed the distance.

And then, without another word, she lunged.



 


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His foot collided with the sweeping leg of the attacking guard and the sickening crunch that resounded was followed by a cry of pain. It would have been quite satisfactory if Caelan was someone else. As it was, he hated having to fight them at all. Hurting them was actually painful to his soul. Every person he did harm to took a small piece of him with them when they took injury. Combat was such a lesser form of dealing with an issue. He hated that so many people immediately resorted to it.

The other Guard he blasted with a wave of the Force. Not his strongest skill, but given his proximity, he could do it with enough effort. The reprieve was brief, though, as more guards entered and surrounded all of them. The fight with the Queen Mother wasn't going her way, either. A quick glance from him revealed her weapon on the floor. She was outmatched.

But then, he was about to be in a much more severe battle himself, as evidenced by the words of the Captain. The woman stared at him, only a glance given towards Nos, as she strode towards him. Caelan stepped clear of where the one soldier had fallen, moving so that he had clear floor space to work with. Even though he was surrounded by Hapans, he wasn't panicked. Serenity. Peace. The Force was these things and the battle meditation helped to provide even more of that for him, his abilities enhanced by his focus.

"No, Captain," he said as she spoke. "You should have recognized you had already lost."

She lunged and he countered by stepping into her attack. A bold move, but he also twisted as he did so, her blade slicing across his abdomen. His clothing, however, was designed to handle such blows. He was the Crown Prince of a Kingdom, not just a Jedi. People looked up to him and required his services and so he needed to wear clothing that fit his station, but that afforded him a level of protection greater than that of what one would simply pick up in the store.

Suffice to say, though he felt the blade, it didn't cut him. And the move left him in direct proximity to his attacker, which allowed him to use his off arm as a clothesline, intending to smack it into the woman's chest and take her down to the ground. He had no intention of killing her, even though she clearly intended to kill him. He would not resort to that unless it was an absolute last measure to remain alive, and at the moment, it wasn't warranted.


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

TAGS: Kha'la Daaray Kha'la Daaray | Nos Voros Nos Voros | Alicio Organa Alicio Organa | Amani Serys Amani Serys
 
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Objective: Primary: protect Alicio and Caelan. Secondary: Survive.
Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

The guard with the vibrosword pivoted, aiming to slice at Nos's side, trying to use the momentary chaos to land a hit before he could turn the stolen electrostaff against them.

The vibrosword skittered across Nos's [X] Commando armor before it bit into flesh between the plates. The advanced heavy armor automatically registered the injury and administered both an adrenal stim and supplemental Bacta injection. Blood evacuated from the armor weave bodyglove underneath, tinting the Blue armor red, but the slash had not breached anything vital, nor interrupted the armor's function.

And now Nos's blood pumped harder, his pupils dilated, breathe shorter, faster, flooding his muscles with oxygen. The adrenal stim kicked him into motion.

Continuing with his momentum he managed to free the electrostaff with a Jump Servo-empowered kick, sending the former Electrostaff wielder colliding into the vibrosword guard.

Additional guards rushed in from the corridor, their vibroswords raised, their formation tightening. Some moved to reinforce the fight against Nos and Caelan, others stood ready to intervene should the Queen require aid.

Outnumbered and facing expert duelists, Nos wasn't about to rely on a shockstaff. Nos wouldn't get out of here alive if he fought fair.

He set the electrostaff to its maximum setting and thrust it like a javelin at the recovering wielder with enough force to pierce into the vibrosword guard behind her if it flew true.

He turned just in time to stop a Vibroblade thrust with the Gauntlet Integrated Knuckle Plate Vibroblade in his armor, spinning into a hip kick fueled by not only muscle and momentum, but the thrust of
Relulsorlift Boots as well, flying knee first with bone-shatteeing force into the torso of the attacker, sending her into the nearby wall with a crash of elegant décor smashed by the guard's body.

The formation tightened, a blur of motion encircling Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren and Nos.

Using the large shoulder-plate of the Senate Commando armor, he halted a third slash with a Vibroblade but gave it no time to find purchase. Ducking his head and arm to grapple the attacker, Nos activated both relulsorlift Boots in tandem with the jetpack tackling the guard through the air, soaring overtop of the centeral duel in the hall, crashing into the opposing wall with the grappled woman's ribcage softening the impact of Nos against the throne room wall.

The two fell, but only Nos righted himself with the thrusters to land back—to—back with Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren in a brief moment mid-combat.

" I'll keep the rest off of you" the Zeltron growled through the combat drugs and pain fueling his violence.

Nos immediately skated forward on the thrusters as he drew a Vibroblade in his left hand, Combat Pistol in his right, speeding into the thickest group of the new arrivals.

The lives of three monarchs hung in the balance - amongst them a Zeltron street-rat fought dirty with some of the Galaxy's priciest toys.

He was a weapon, unquestioning in duty - the hammer of the Senate to break any chain that threatened bind them.

 
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Amani stood frozen with anxiety. Queen Kha'la was the ruler of an intensely militant society. She knew how to fight, but Alicio did not back down. In fact, it seemed he had the advantage. The Chancellor was no greenhorn himself. He had seen battles, trained with Jedi, and dueled with Sith. And it became clear that in spite of the presence she commanded, Kha'la was not the fighter Alicio was. Perhaps they really could end this all here and now. Amani felt hope rising in her chest.

The Queen was struck in the leg. Her blade fell to the ground. Alicio had done it. Amani released a breath she did not know she was holding.
 

Haliat Kryze

Heroically seeking a cool nickname.
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| Location | Moonside Inn
| Objective | Bring this to an end

Keep your focus?

Odd and rather inappropriate, Haliat knew, that this should be the moment from this final confrontation that settled like an itch between his shoulder blades like an itch he couldn't scratch...although an itch anywhere was problematic for a Mandalorian. Even so, there it was. Obviously, he didn't much relish the sight of the noble Alor suddenly transforming herself from valiant warrior to walking hangman's noose, but he'd already witnessed her work a few floors up. To one lacking in any innate sensitivity for such matters, sorcery was sorcery. And if you'd resolved to end a life, the specific weapon chosen for the task was of little import in comparison to that intent and resolve.

But before any of that had unfolded, to call into question his capacity to stay on course and perform his duty, even if he detested it...his mind immediately grasped for reasons not to see an insult in that. Then, he immediately thought of one. And it meant he needed to move quickly and decisively.

"Hastati. Eyes open, ears shut. You'll know when to move."

Fortunately, he'd begun carrying out the Alor's instructions well before they were even given. Each and every insurgent had already been spotted, their locations relayed to the squad of ready auxiliaries. But now, he began to assign those markers order of priority. Pride of place. First, those gunmen immediately surrounding Corazana were marked with the sigil of the Nite Owl. To be disregarded. If any survived the next few seconds, Haliat would deal with them himself. But as for the rest, they had spread out to form a hastily assembled but nevertheless serviceable firing line, one capable of catching their strike force in overlapping fields of fire. Armor or not, that line needed to be rolled up quickly if they had any hope of coming away from this without casualties. Once again, the ley role would fall to their designated breachers. Ryk and Rion were each sent a priority marker, designating an opponent at the opposite extreme flanks. While the bulk of their number took a knee and laid down suppressive fire, the two veterans would come in with the grenades, close the distance and work their way inward. Clip the wings, then begin the crush, like a snake taking a bird.

And then, the moment came, signified by the snapping of a neck. Unlike the Hastati, their auditory sensors deactivated to ensure their helmets muffled Jenn's speech, Haliat heard it all, and forced down his distaste. Once again, his perception had less to do with the power on display than the intent, and under most circumstances, he'd have regarded this as a despicable, dishonorable tactic. He'd killed his enemies face to face, and he'd killed them from a distance, before they even realized he was there. But never once had he felt the need to disguise his intent, to feign sympathy or appear a friend before he struck. If you were an enemy, then let it be clear; win or lose, do not dishonor the fight. To do so seemed not simply unworthy of him, but of those few Mandalorian traditions which he had truly always valued.

And yet, these people had taken a hostage. They were using a human shield to try and avoid the fight which they had started. And thus, distaste battled distaste, then gave way to a rational assessment of need. One dishonorable tactic was the most effective means available to counter another. And in some cases, such as when the life of a friend was on the line, necessity could redeem just about anything. The logic at work was ruthless...but sound. And if Jenn Kryze had feared that the spell of her words would enthrall him as well, leave him too befuddled to act, then she feared needlessly.

The sudden flash DID bring him up short for a moment. He'd had few occasions to fight alongside the Alliance military, to study their codes, and in every one of those few cases, the situation had already escalated well beyond the use of any kind of non-lethal equipment. Luckily, Rayia had been off to his side when she unveiled that sudden flash, so he wasn't looking at it head on, and his tinted visor protected against the worst of what he DID see. Some of the Hastati might not have been quite so fortunate in their positioning, but they all enjoyed similar vision protection. If they were dazzled to any degree, they would recover before their opponents. Thus, the maneuver would proceed more or less as planned.

The targets he'd designated around Cora had, as it happened, dwindled almost to nothing by the time he started, and yet two pin pricks of light still came soaring up from a shoulder mounted launcher before going their separate ways. One whistling bird finished off the Veil soldier rising to try and get back into the fight after Rayia's attack, while the other split off to take the soldier covering Roman Vossari Roman Vossari right between the eyes. If the lad wished to get back into the fight, now was the time. With that, his gauntlet shield activated, and Haliat closed in quickly to provide further cover as Rayia pulled Cora from the fray, even as he began firing off shots into the rear of the terrorist line now under heavy assault from the Hastati.

"Not much longer now, I think," he offered between shots, not turning to clarify if he was addressing the beleagured royal, the striken Jedi, or both.

 
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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Blaster fire streaked through the air as Valery landed gracefully beside Jack, her violet blade carving through the chaos like a beacon of light. The city burned with the echoes of war, but her focus remained razor-sharp, her senses weaving through the battle like threads in a vast, unseen tapestry.

"Zaiya, keep up the shielding!" Valery called over the din, stepping forward with measured confidence. "Jack, let's push forward — we clear the landing zone, then hold."

With fluid precision, she flicked her lightsaber up, deflecting a barrage of crimson bolts back toward the entrenched Hapans. Some dove for cover, others reeled as their own fire was turned against them.

The trio fought as one. Jack's deadly efficiency carved a path through the opposition, his twin blades weaving arcs of electric blue and amethyst, while Zaiya provided crucial support, her Force-enhanced shields shimmering against the onslaught.

They were close now — just a little more pressure, and the gunship would have the room it needed. But then—

Thoom.
Thoom.
Thoom.


The ground trembled with each approaching step.

Valery's fiery gaze snapped to the movement beyond the frontline, where the silhouettes of soldiers parted to reveal a Hapan walker striding onto the battlefield. Sleek, heavily armored, and bristling with twin laser cannons, the war machine loomed over them like a mechanical beast, its targeting systems locking onto their position.

Her breath steadied.

"Jack — turrets on the right, neutralize them before they pin us down. Zaiya, stay close, but be ready to move!"

A split-second later, the walker's cannons charged, their energy cores glowing a menacing red.

"Move!"

With a burst of Force-enhanced speed, Valery vaulted forward just as the walker unleashed a thunderous barrage. The impact sent debris flying, shrapnel biting into the durasteel street, but she was already closing the gap.

This fight was far from over.





 

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Cora's eyes fell closed. Her breathing steadied. In and out, slow and purposeful, as she stretched her senses like feelers over the room.

She felt the floor beneath them, counted the paces between herself and Jenn. She heard the siren speak, knowing well the danger behind the enchanting cadence of her voice. It was not for her, thank Ashla.

She felt the blaster pressed to Roman's back, and only then did her expression quiver. He was her Padawan. She was supposed to teach and protect him. This was never how it was supposed to go. She saw the glimmer of Rayia's bared fangs, the sharp, practiced movements of the Hastati as they trained their attention on the outgunned terrorists. She even felt the beads of sweat prickle at the back of the man's neck, and then the potent threads of the Dark that wrapped around his throat.

The moment she heard the sickening snap of his neck, Cora's eyes flew open. The flare of light momentarily stunned her, and she teetered in place.

"Jenn!" she cried, an expression of relief as much as it was one of disbelief and anger. Cora raised her bound hands above her head, then brought them down upon her knee as it jutted upward. The bonds broke, but as Rayia moved to take her hand and guide her away, Cora refused to budge.

Both hands extended, one outward, one behind her. A shimmering barrier flared into existence, catching the fire that would've slaughtered the men behind her. The terrorists, their faces marked with adrenaline, fear, and grim determination did not move, struggling against invisible bonds.

"No more," she declared, meeting the hypnotic eyes of an old friend. Blue eyes were hard as durasteel, reflecting the finality of her words. "They cannot move. Disarm and bind them."

Her hand remained thrown back, fingers clenched to keep the men in her hold. Her gaze passed over the retinue who'd come to rescue them – Jenn, Roman, thank Ashla he was safe, brave Padawan Si, and stalwart Haliat.

"I'd rather you kill us here," one of the terrorists growled, his voice strained. "Why prolong it? The Queen wants us dead. Better to die on your feet than your knees."

Cora glanced over her shoulder. Her expression remained harsh, but there was a spark of empathy for their plight.

"You are Alliance citizens. You have right to a trial, whatever the outcome of that may be."

"Not on Hapes," came the gruff interjection. "You're a blind fool if you think we'd get that far."

Cora looked to the man who'd held her hostage, now dead at her feet. Eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling in desperate shock. She knelt and retrieve his blaster. It had been set to stun.

"There are hostages in the basement," she cleared her throat. "Largely unharmed. Notify the Hapan military that they're being released into their care."

Come on, Alicio.

Roman Vossari Roman Vossari Jenn Kryze Jenn Kryze Rayia Si Rayia Si Haliat Kryze Haliat Kryze
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Hapes
Presence of the Queen
- Kha'la Daaray Kha'la Daaray - Nos Voros Nos Voros - Amani Serys Amani Serys - Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren - Others -

All it took was a single mistake.

The Queen forgot her guard for a moment. Alicio took advantage, tagging her leg. Capitalizing on the moment, the Chancellor flashed his blade across her grip, causing her to drop the weapon, it's golden metal clanging musically on the ground.

Alicio's blue and black blade extended to shadow the Queen Mother's neck, growling it's low melody under her chin. Then, with the nudge of his foot, the Force captured her blade, causing it to skitter across the floor. Alicio's face didn't show any hint of victory, not a bit of gloating. If anything, his eyes looked sad, his expression unsure.

Alicio let a single breath escape his lips, a puff of strain he'd kept in until now, before letting his slate-grey eyes connect with the Queen's. "Justice wins, Your Majesty." Alicio held her gaze a moment, before disengaging his blade, and taking a step back.


"Call off your people. Let's talk."
 
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Roman's heart hammered against his ribs as chaos erupted around him. The room blurred and sharpened in unsteady pulses, each new sound and movement carving into his awareness like jagged glass. He had come here for a wedding, a simple getaway for him and his friends, but it had turned into this?

The press of the cold barrel against his spine wasn't just frightening. It was humiliating. He should have been better. A Jedi was supposed to rise to these moments, to find their center amidst chaos. But instead, Roman had frozen, his breaths coming quick and shallow, shame rising to meet panic as he felt his lightsaber stolen from his side.

Roman chanced a glance ahead. Cora stood eerily still, her bound hands trembling only slightly, but her face was all steel. He could almost see her thinking, feel the currents of her awareness touching everything in the room. She always made control look effortless.

And then Jenn moved.

Roman's training should've helped him anticipate what came next, but no amount of drills or meditative sparring sessions could have prepared him for the grace and menace that radiated from Jenn. She didn't just move; she prowled. With a liquid shift of her body and a voice drenched in power, she became the focal point of the entire room. The guards turned to her, entranced, and Roman felt himself hold his breath. For a brief, foolish second, he thought the situation might resolve itself. That maybe, just maybe, Jenn would break the spell binding the room not with violence, but with sheer presence.

And then the sound came.

A crack, sharp and unmistakable, like the snapping of a dry branch. Roman's stomach turned. The terrorist behind Cora toppled to the floor in a heap, his neck twisted unnaturally, his empty eyes staring up at nothing. Roman couldn't move. He couldn't think. His throat closed against a shout that never made it out, a protest, a question, anything to make sense of what the feth had just happened.

His master's voice broke the spell. "Jenn!" The anger and shock in Cora's cry jerked Roman out of his stillness, but something inside him remained frozen. She'd killed him. Jenn had killed him. But… wasn't he about to kill them? Weren't the terrorists their enemies, threats to innocent lives? Shouldn't he feel grateful? Relieved?

He didn't. Something about the way she did it, felt... wrong.

The room erupted again. Someone lobbed a flash grenade, and its sudden burst of light and sound drove Roman to his knees, shielding his eyes with unsteady hands. His vision returned in patches, the world hazy and surreal. Between stumbled steps, he saw movement: soldiers leaping into action, Mandalorians sweeping in with brutal precision, blasters firing.

And then there he was, scrambling on hands and knees to reach a pair of fallen lightsabers. Had anyone noticed? Did Jenn or Cora see him fumble like this? Did the soldiers, or Rayia, with her predatory grace? He secured the hilts with unsteady hands, first Cora's, then his own, and felt his heart thud heavily as he clutched them to his chest.

"Get it together." he muttered to himself, before slipping behind the nearest barricade. One breath. Two. He pressed his back against the cover, trying to make himself smaller, insignificant. Feeling the scattered energy of the room, he risked a glance over the edge.

Cora was at the center of it all, as she always seemed to be, bright and immovable, even in the face of carnage. Her hands extended, she held the remaining hostiles in her unwavering grip, their bodies straining futilely against the invisible bonds of her will. She looked invincible. And yet, he saw the tightness in her jaw, the furrow at her brow.

His eyes darted to the faces of the captured terrorists, then back to Jenn. She was nearby, her shoulders squared, her expression unreadable. She'd saved them. That should've been all Roman could think about. But the sound of that man's neck snapping played on an endless loop in his head. He clenched his fists, the lightsabers biting into his palms as his knuckles whitened.

Cora's voice cut through the chaos again, resolute as ever. She ordered the terrorists disarmed, her words as cold and deliberate as the shields she conjured. The men tried to argue, spitting out warnings about Hapans and the Queen and hopelessness, but Cora didn't flinch.

He stayed silent, crouched behind cover. Watching. Waiting. There were so many things he wanted to do, help, fight, make sense of what he'd seen, what he'd felt. But he couldn't. So he stayed frozen, swallowed by the shadow of his own inadequacy.
 
(Tags: Valery Noble Valery Noble , Zaiya Ceti Zaiya Ceti )

Turrets? Pf, easy mode! Spinning both blades in an elegant flourish, Jack raced across the marble battlefield for the mounted ranged weaponry, sabers angled downwards pointed for the lower right ground. In a grace of speed, before energy projectiles can meet their intended foe.

He leaped upwards, the Force carrying momentum, straight for the top of the closest turret and deactivated his purple lightsaber.

Landed right on the hull, Jack sliced a direct circle through armour, tossing aside the wounded metal and entered the hole, helping himself to slashing away the turret's innards. Sparks of blue shooting from the custom hole as the weapon malfunctioned, reacting to its 'organ' rupture with a hearty groan, the Jedi jumped out last second.

Racing for the next turret while batting aside blaster bolts, the first weapon imploding while he raced over the edge of the outer courtyard roof.
 


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For the first time in her life, Kha'la Daaray was at a loss for words.

Her sword, the symbol of her authority, skittered across the marble floor, carried away by the same invisible force that had turned her own aggression against her. The golden metal reflected the grand lights of the throne room, but Kha'la only stared at the floor beneath it, her chest rising and falling with sharp, controlled breaths.

She could still feel the heat of Alicio's blade at her throat, the low hum of its energy vibrating through the air. He was speaking, but the words barely registered.

Justice wins, Your Majesty.

Her fingers twitched.

This wasn't justice.

Justice was what she had fought for. It was what she had burned cities for, what she had shed blood for. The Crimson Veil had assassinated her brother. They had ruined her family, and now these off-worlders came into her throne room and demanded she surrender? That she yield? That she stand down while they decided the fate of her people?

Her jaw clenched. Her vision narrowed.

Her fingers drifted to her hip.

The Chancellor had already begun to step back when she gripped the ornate hilt of her Gun of Command, the antique weapon sliding free with a smooth, elegant motion.

Then she fired.

The gun cracked sharply, its psychic energy rippling through the Force. The golden bolt struck Alicio before he could fully react, the shot embedding itself not into his flesh, but into his mind.

Kha'la rose as he staggered, every ounce of her regal presence returning, but now, it was sharpened into something cold. Something furious. Her emerald eyes burned as she approached, her footsteps deliberate, precise, unwavering.

"I am sorry, dear friend," she murmured, her voice like silk laced with steel. She lifted the weapon, tilting it slightly, as if in mock condolence.

"Now. Draw your blade… and take your own life."


The throne room had erupted into chaos.

Nos's thrusters sent him hurtling into the enemy ranks, his combat pistol snapping up, his vibroblade cutting through the air with brutal efficiency. The guards barely had time to adjust before he was among them, a storm of sharpened metal and thruster-fueled momentum. One by one, they fell — knocked back, stunned, incapacitated in rapid succession.

Across the chamber, Captain Lorana's blade sliced through the air, aimed to gut the Crown Prince.

Instead, Caelan stepped into the attack.

Her blade struck home — only to scrape uselessly against the finely woven fabrics of his attire, protection woven into its regal design. Before she could react, his arm snapped forward, a sudden, devastating clothesline slamming into her chest.

The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, her breath hitching as the air was knocked from her lungs.

More guards rushed in, vibroswords flashing in coordinated strikes, their formation tightening, but it was clear they were losing ground. Nos had already broken through the initial wave, and Caelan — serene, untouched, precise — moved with a Jedi's grace, countering each blow with unshakable focus.

The tide was turning.

But while the battle raged, Kha'la stood untouched.

And she was about to make sure one of them would not be leaving this room alive.



 

Even after everything, Alicio had not only remained steadfast in his beliefs, but he had won. He had beaten the Queen at her own game. Amani's heart swelled with pride. This chaos could come to an end. Here and now. Kha'la need only accept the conditions of the duel she laid forth. To at last see past the senseless chaos, and let reason return. There was a moment of stillness. Of contemplation. Or plotting.

The Queen had no intern of walking away from this fight empty handed. Amani saw the movement. And then she saw—

The Gun of Command.

"No."


Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Amani reacted with no thought for anything else, least of all herself. She just knew she had to move. Had to stop this from coming to pass. Before Alicio…

She rushed the Queen from behind. There was no turning back, No second guessing with what was at stake. Her lightsaber raised forward, hands clutching the hilt with unquestioning intent.

"It's over!"

Blue plasma speared Queen Kha'la Daaray through the heart.
 


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His arm collided with the woman's chest and brought her straight to the ground. The woosh of air escaping her lungs was likely not noticed by Caelan, who focused instead on swinging his booted foot towards her jaw with sufficient force to knock her out, though not kill her. He had every intention of holding true to what he had said at the start of this: he wouldn't kill them if he could avoid it. She was in a compromised position, even as her fellows tried to swoop in and save her. It was an easy strike.

The blades came in and were met with an invisible barrier of the Force. He couldn't react to them all at once, not while finishing the swing of his foot. But he could use the Force to protect himself from their strikes. An advantage was an advantage and in battle you used them all. There was no such thing as the luxury of picking and choosing. The only choice was in lethality. They tried to kill, he did not.

In it all, he completely missed the turn of events with the Queen and Chancellor. Keeping all the troops at bay was proving to be difficult and he was forced to back away from the steps to where he had more even footing. His blade parried one, then another, and another. He punched one in the jaw that got too close to his off arm, leaving a nasty deadarm feeling that would at least cause him to back off for a bit. Anything to keep them from getting to him while he formulated a further plan. Maybe Nos would fight his off and-

"It's over!"

The shout caught him off guard. He threw up a barrier and turned his head to look, watching with horror dawning on his face as a blue blade skewered the Queen Mother.

"No!" he shouted over the din of battle.

This wasn't right. It wasn't good. They'd just killed the Queen of the Hapans. They. The Alliance. They had murdered the leader of an entire cluster of hundreds of star systems. Star systems that made up a part of the Alliance. And he had no doubt that people within the court would spin it to make it out that this was, in fact, treachery by the Alliance, meddling in the affairs of Hapans that they had no involvement in. And they'd just walked right into that trap. A trap that the Queen had used her own life to spring.

This was going to go very badly.


ATTIRE: LINK (The Second Image) | WEAPON: Lightsaber | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Kha'la Daaray Kha'la Daaray | Nos Voros Nos Voros | Amani Serys Amani Serys | Alicio Organa Alicio Organa
 
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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's pulse pounded in her ears, but she kept moving, weaving through the chaos with practiced agility. The Force shimmered at her fingertips, a barrier of energy flaring to life just in time to catch a barrage of blaster fire. The impact rippled through her, her bioluminescent markings flashing a bright, urgent gold before dimming to a focused cobalt flecked citrine.

"Stay close and ready to move, " she murmured under her breath, shifting her stance as the ground trembled beneath the weight of the walker.

Easy right?

Jack was already tearing through the turrets like a whirlwind, his twin sabers flashing in a deadly dance of light and speed. Good. That gave her time to think. The walker was the real problem -- massive, armored, and fully intent on turning them into smoldering craters. She had to be smart about this.

Domxite gave a hum by her ear, a chirp and a whirl of binary only for them to speak through the Force.

"Great idea!" Zaiya replied to Domxite, then moving to duck behind a half crumbling pillar, exhaling sharply as she glanced down at her hands. The glow along her skin pulsed erratically, her body already primed for action. The Force was telling her to move, to act.

Shoving off with a burst of speed, she sprinted toward the walker's flank, keeping low as another barrage thundered past. If she could get close enough -- if she could reach the joints -- maybe, just maybe, she could do something about this oversized tin can before it ripped them apart.

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Meanwhile...
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Objective: Safe Exfiltration of Alliance Personnel
Squad Leader: Captain Nos Voros (Zeltron male)
Fire Team Alpha —
GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor
Team Leader: Lieutenant Karis Vonn (Human female, Corellian)
Medic: Sergeant Lorne Vesik (Mirialan male)
Machine Gunner: Corporal Bex Jarn (Besalisk male)
Rifleman: Private Tash Renn (Human male, Chandrilan)
  • A precise and disciplined soldier.
  • BHSR-1 Service Rifle
  • Prefers coordinated maneuvers and works best in tight formations.
---

Fire Team Bravo —
GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor
Team Leader 2: Sergeant Jil Torvan (Togruta female)
Marksman: Corporal Rann Kyber (Nautolan male)
Heavy Weapons: Private Drax Molgar (Zabrak male)
  • Specializes in explosives and heavy ordinance.
  • ML-04E-GA Rocket Launcher
  • Often deployed against armored threats or for breaching enemy positions.
Rifleman: Private Cass Deren (Duros male)
  • Agile and quick-thinking.
  • BHSR-1 Service Rifle
  • Often acts as the squad's point man, scouting ahead for danger.
<<Rubrus actual, resume threat neutralization, lethal force authorized>>

A blast rung through the halls of the palace, followed by pinpoint blaster fire and the emergence of Alpha Team

Corporal Bex Jarn, an armored Besalisk with a heavy repeating blaster laid down suppressing fire as Team Leader Vonn and Medic Vesik advanced to the location of Orion Pavond Orion Pavond , Lady Sylvia Organa Lady Sylvia Organa , and Damian du Couteau Damian du Couteau .

"Thank you, Jedi,"
"Ma'am if you can walk we need to get you out of here"
Vonn and Vesik said to Orion and Sylvia respectively.

With his spare set of arms, Bex Jarm leaned down to pick up Damian in a bridal carry, upper arms continuing providing suppressing fire up the hallway.

Rubrus Squad continues to escort the evacuation from the palace with the rifleman Tash Renn taking point and the cleared path behind them defended by Bravo Team.

Captain Nos Voros's biometrics were heightened but still alive, whatever was happening in the throne room would have to be handled by him. Safe evacuation of the hostages came first.


 
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| Location | Moonside Inn
| Objective | To Midnight


The nurse's neck snapped. His body slumped to the ground uselessly. And then, the controlled chaos wrought by the hands of her Hastati (and led by stalwart Haliat) unfolded, leaving her blind and deaf for a few moments too long, her concentration broken - the last word she heard before her ears were made to ring so painfully, the voice of a woman she regarded not merely as bur'cya, but aliit. Her own name, carrying anger and shock within it, slipped between the beskar plating and into her heart, leaving her to truly fear, to doubt, as her world exploded.
Many words formed within her mind, yet her voice could not carry them, even as she longed to let the Ukatian hear them, to assure her that she had only meant to help her, to ensure that she was safe - before darker emotions took hold, as her vision slowly began to clear, the sight before her leaving the Duchess stupefied, slipping the cold exterior of her true face back on. Corazona von Ascania, Princess of Ukatis, Knight of the Jedi Order and one of the most important people in her life... was standing against her. Against her purpose. Ever-animated by the calm fury her many siblings and mother alike had imparted unto her from a young age, the Mandalorian ground her teeth together as the blonde dared to tell her what to do.
The Duchess had not been the one to come here and do all in her power to save Corazona. Neither did the Kryz'alor, for that matter, nor the Redeemer. Jenn Kryze had done that, not for any strategic plan, but because helping those she held dear took precedence over all else, because she refused to let duty overtake the oath she had made to herself after ruining everything with Sam. That she would always put family first, no matter the circumstances.
And this was to be her thanks? A Jetii telling her to stay her hand, to spare the very same people she had come here to destroy? So much planning, so much commitment, all of it put towards the task of assisting the Consortium in its counter-insurgency operation and secure another strategic alliance in doing so - and she was now asked to imperil all of it because of... what? The infuriating "mercy" of a follower of the Jedi Code, who sought to give quarter to those cowardly enough to take hostages? What a joke.
"They were holding you at gunpoint", came the Alor's terse response, trying her best to remain courteous. To keep her frustration hidden beneath the usual emotional repression. Even now, there was a certain beauty to her voice, a melodious intonation, even with the helmet's slight vo-coder effect reducing its potency. "Why are you so intent on sparing their-"
Before she could finish her sentence or relay any further orders, the front door of the building, hastily barricaded as it had been, was blown apart by a shaped charged. Superdly drilled as they were, the Hastati were quick to redirect their attention (and their weapons) towards the sudden surge in activity. There was no need for them to vocalize the identity of the interlopers; their uniforms and insignia made it all too obvious... and yet, the New Mandalorians did not lower their rifles. Hapan special forces or not, something was off here. Their blasters were still pointed in their direction.
And, more pressingly, at the three Jedi among them.
"Lower your blasters, Mandalorians! Your aid is known to us, and your service to Hapes remembered and honored; but you harbour Jedi among your numbers, complicit in their treason against Queen Kha'la. Step away from them and the scum they have chosen to shelter, and let the Queen's Justice be done!"
It was a demand, The Redeemer soon realized, that would not be refused without violence. Though well-trained and stout combatants, the Hapans had put their fingers on the trigger, betraying their intent in doing so. They waited only for a clear shot to start hosing down Jedi and Crimson Veil alike with hot plasma. A chilling realization that soon dispelled all other thoughts within her mind. The why of it all hardly mattered, not when the lives of a young woman she regarded as one would a niece, Jonyna's own adoptive daughter and a terrified Padawan all hung in the balance.
"We drew swords together, daughters of Hapes. Fought side-by-side against the scum plaguing your people. I beseech you now; spare me the sin of killing you, sisters-in-arms.
Had she been asked to choose between the Consortium and the Crimson Veil, her answer would have been simple and straightforward. Her standing order given to Karrys and the reinforcements waiting at the Forward Operating Base established with the crown's accord on Hapes had been clear; assistance was to be given to the Hapan military against rebel elements, bonds forged in battle.
Had she been asked to choose between the Consortium and the GADF, if not the New Jedi Order outright, her response would have been far more thought-out. The former presented the opportunity of a strong and dependable ally; the latter inspired only distrust in the Duchess, guarded as she was against foreign involvement upon New Mandalorian affairs. The Alliance presence on Onderon was already something she resented, and considered a necessary evil.
Ultimately, however, neither of those formed the choice thrust upon her. These Hapans were asking her to choose between those she cherished, and the potential allies she was yet to make.
An easy choice to make.
"That decision is not mine to make, Your Ladyship. I am only a soldier, gladly bound by oath to our queen; it is my burden and privilege to carry out her orders. I know you understand. The tragedy that befell your former liege-lady is known to us."
That the officer in charge of the twelve-woman team already fanning out across the lobby and towards points of cover cared to answer her words only made the Mandalorian's heart sink. In another life, the two may have been friends.
"Alas, Captain", answered the Duchess mournfully, "in a better world, one would need little else than shared honor to bury all enmity between them, their worth recognized by one another. Though you may be soldiers, and my Mando'ade warriors, I hold but the utmost respect for you. But these Jetiise... are under my protection. One among them is my own kin; and another may soon become one as well. Can you truly expect me to give them up? To let you strike against those I hold as dearly to my person as you would a sister, a daughter, a niece?"
The Redeemer hardly ever cared to make herself vulnerable, and doubly so in public. An ideal had no need for such wanton weakness. But, this once, she allowed emotion to carry into her voice, and earnestly so. Unlike her earlier appeal to the Crimson Veil, cloaked in misintent and deception, the Kryz'alor sought to use the very same "tactic" she had employed when she first befriended Alicio Organa Alicio Organa and Valery Noble Valery Noble , in what felt like another lifetime to one who had been forced to change so much in so short a time; only through honesty and pure intention had she forged such bonds, and only through such stalwart efforts did she hope to prevent a catastrophe.
Whether by the effect of her voice or the raw directness of her words, it seemed, if but for a moment, that she might have succeeded. A few of the Hapans lowered their blasters, if only slightly. With but a gesture of their Duchess to command them so, just as many Hastati did the same, as a show of goodwill.
"Even if I were to consider sparing these Jedi, Your Highness, I cannot leave the Crimson Veil elements among you alive. They would only exploit the soft-heartedness of your kin, and return to torment my sisters. You spoke to me of your kin, but what of mine? What if these scoundrels decide to take revenge, and target my family? What then, Duchess Kryze?"
Turning to face Corazona, the ruler of the New Mandalorians mulled over what words to impart upon her protege. Would she budge, were their situations reversed? Could she even convince the driven young woman to stop sheltering the fools behind her to save her own skin, and that of two Padawans? Such were the thoughts going through Jenn Kryze's head as another soldier stumbled into the hotel, all too agitated. Closing her hand around the Captain's wrist, she could not find it in herself to mutter her next words, so stricken was she with grief.
"The Jedi have murdered the Queen!" declared the soldier in a voice all but keening with sorrow.
Jenn's head snapped towards the Hapans, appreciating the three seconds of silence lingering between them as all within the room digested the sheer weight of that information.
"War, then", mumbled Ryk softly, and solemnly.
And then, the room exploded into an orgy of renewed violence.
Resigned, Jenn and Captain Lyarri drew their swords, rushing up to one another amidst the chaos of plasma, explosions, and fire filling the air.
 
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Hapes
Presence of the Queen
- Kha'la Daaray Kha'la Daaray - Nos Voros Nos Voros - Amani Serys Amani Serys - Caelan Valoren Caelan Valoren - Others -

Again, all it took was a single mistake. The bolt hit Alicio, and his mind went blank.

Alicio had known the Queen since his Senator days. They'd had their disagreements on the floor, especially concerning the equality of the people of the Alliance... but they'd always agreed on more. Today, she was reckless, violent, scathing... but he knew her to be reasonable. Pragmatic. Honorable. Had she truly discarded that part of herself?

He hadn't had time to analyze her spur-of-the-moment decision in the Future. Even if he had, he probably would've been too shocked to do anything about it.


"I am sorry, dear friend. Now. Draw your blade… and take your own life."

Alicio blinked. Then, in a clean swipe, Introspect burst to life in his hand once more. He brought the burning plasma up to his own neck, fine hairs curling from the heat. The blade touched skin, bringing with it an acrid smell. Alicio didn't react. All the same, something stayed his hand. Hesitance, born from years of training his mind.

This is wrong. This is wrong.

It bought him only an extra second... but a second was all Amani needed. Alicio suddenly felt the intention behind his command slip away, and with it, he was able to wrest control of his own psyche back. He dropped his blade, the lightsaber deactivating as it clattered to the ground. A hand went up to hold the burning welt in his neck, and he looked across the room, suddenly remembering where he was.

Seeing what had happened.

The Chancellor's face went pale. He found Amani's eyes, his own holding dread. He rushed to the Queen, unnatural speed bringing her to the speared woman. Unsure of her fate, he put his hands on her, sparing her a rush of healing energy. And then... he stopped. It was all too easy to tell- all the Force Healing in the world wouldn't save her, if she was even still alive.


"...Why?," he managed to choke out. Was the question for Kha'la? Himself? Even he wasn't quite sure.
 
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Objective: Neutralize threats — silence witnesses
Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

Vibrosword incoming, parry, pull the trigger.
11 shots, pistol empty, chamber empty
Drop pistol, dodge staff
Pain - left knee, puncture.
adrenal stimm administered.
Bacta administered.
Bacta injection.
Grab her wrist, twist, cleave at the elbow.
Headbutt - durasteel against cartilage of nose, lips, teeth busted - stunned.
Parry staff, shock burn through upper abdomen from feinting strike.

Bacta administered.

Slash - parried, disarmed. Unarmed. Outnumbered

Gauntlet Vibroblade - fist to sternum, severed aorta.

Blaster absorption to torso, blunt force trauma from heat explosion, simple fracture, 4th rib.

No Bacta injections remaining.
Adrenal administered.

Boot knife ejected. Grapple, stab - no purchase. Twist, Hapan shield. Kick away.
Incoming vibrosword, parry with- knife cut through, inferior material.

Laceration: brachioradialis. Loose grip, broken side dropped. Right hand grip strength weakening.
No Bacta remaining.
No adrenal remaining.


Incoming slash - block with right arm.
Laceration: wrist flexors.
Laceration :Triceps Brachii

No Bacta-
yeah I get it! No more injections
Advise Medical Evacuation.


Nos stood among the dead, right arm limp and dangling, left arm with fist-mounted Vibroblade drawn as a light plasma beam cleaned his visor of Hapan blood. Crimson streaks and splatters haphazardly painted his azure armor. This was not sustainable.

The opposition stopped in their tracks - nos turned to see - a command gun, The Queen of Alderaan slaying the Queen of Hapes, King and Chancellor lowering his blade from his own throat.

No witnesses. The specifics cannot escape this room by word of the royal guard.

Nos thrusted back into the conflict, not to stave off the reinforcements but to eliminate any who saw. The Jedi in the room could determine themselves what public statement to make, but it would not be twisted by the those oathsworn to the queen of Hapes.

He took advantage of their dismay at the sight of their slain queen to slaughter. Nos's concern for repercussions was outweighed by concern for the Chancellor and the Senate.

 

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