Invasion Hope Never Dies | GA Invasion of TSE held Ziost and Tiss'Sharl

[Arcturus Tal]

Prelude: A Long Return Home...

Somewhere in the Outer Rim: 3 weeks before Ziost​

The crew of the Prodigal Sun had been bustling about, running checks and drills in preparation for the coming fight on Ziost. Arcturus stood at the bridge, overseeing the operations and making sure everything was done proper. He had recently come back into contact with his uncle, and was eager to fight at his side in the days to come. He felt like a cadet at the academy all over again, itching to prove his worth to his superiors. There hadn't been a day since he left Galidraan that he didn't think of his family and home. He may have left, but his heart was always there. And it felt good to be back.

As Arcturus poured over the long list of to-dos for the ship, he was approached by Quintus.

"Sir, we received a transmission from our forces stationed near Ziost. They are gathering at rendezvous point Alpha."

"Very good, commander. When do we depart?"

Quintus was hesitent in his response, causing Arcturus to cease his perusal of the workload before him.

"Well sir, we won't be leaving for Ziost. Our orders are to link up with other members of the resistance and bolster our fleet."

Arcturus shot around, facing Quintus with a grim expression on his face.

"Lets talk in my office, commander."

When they reached his office, Arcturus promptly shut the door behind them.

"What in the Nether are you talking about, Quintus? You can't seriously be suggesting that we stay behind while our people fight the Sith."

Quintus could only meet him with a look of dissatisfaction. Arcturus knew that the man was as eager to fight as he was. They had both been waiting to rejoin their people in the fight to free their home. As fate would have it, it looked like they'd have to wait a little bit longer...

"We should be there, Quintus... but... oh kark it all."

Arcturus hung his head in disappointment. He wanted to be there. He needed to be there. After all of these years away from the struggles of his people, waiting longer to fight was a hard pill to swallow. And yet, he would do it. If his people needed him away from the fight, then he would do exactly that. He would stay and garner the much needed support for the cause. For his family. For Galidraan. He gave a slight nod to Quintus, returning to the task at hand.

Anything for the cause...

---

Ziost orbit: present day...

The Edge of Night​

The battle continued to rage as the Prodigal Sun sent another broadside into a nearby Sith cruiser. They may have had the numbers, but Arcturus knew that if they remained vigilant, they would win the day. He kept telling himself to continue the push, to keep focus on the task at hand. Each barrage upon the enemy was another step closer to their victory. Everything seemed to be in their favor...

"Sir, we're picking up a hyperspace reading. It's comi-"

In an instant, everything changed.

The behemoth showed its fangs as it pierced the sky, leaving hope in short supply. None of their forces could have sustained such an attack. And yet, still...somewhere, Arcturus had hope.

The whole of his being was filled with hope.

Maybe the Sith blew them to the Nether. Maybe the Sith had robbed him of any interaction he could have had with his family. None of that mattered now.

All he saw was red...

"Commander" he said, as his eyes gazed upon the hellfire.

"We take everything we have, and focus on the Dreadnought."

Quintus felt some opposition to the order.

"Sir, but we are exposed."

Arcturus didn't care. Seeing the heartless bombardment sent him over the edge. His uncle; his cousin; his people were thrown over the edge. And he was stuck, trying his damnedest to make things work. He spent too much time trying to make it work...

And yet, he felt... wrong. He felt less than. His family had risked there lives, and for what? He couldn't help to think of his uncle, his cousin, his friends...

Would his presence even matter?

Kark it all....

He would see victory on this day. He turned to Quintus, a new fire burning in his heart.

"Commander, we make way for that behemoth, and send it straight to the Nether."

Sith Dominance​

 

[Kaska Arden]

R I D EㅤT H EㅤL I GH T N I N G
T E M P L EㅤE N G I N E E R I N GㅤC O R E
P R O S P E R I T Y

Lightsaber | Belmont's Resolve | JSTP Armour
Uproar Blaster | Pamarthen Honor Blade

A L L I E SㅤG Aㅤ/ㅤN I O
Dagon Kaze

E N E M I E SㅤT S E
Chasianna

While not unexpected from the bodies she had encountered in the hallway, the Cryoban attack caught Kaska off guard long enough for her momentum to stall. A potentially costly mistake. Forced to choose between pressing the attack or risk sharing a similar fate to the Marines, the Nyriaanan had little choice but to let Dagon take the initiative once more, dodging backwards and away from the frigid beam that sliced and froze the air where she had previously occupied.

An opening their opponent, though hammered by Dagon's forceful attack, seemed to be all too quick to capitalize on.

Before she could fully recover, the room became alight with a tempest that would put even the fiercest Pamarthen storm to shame. Deadly arcs of lightning dancing and scattering from seemingly every direction, catching and writhing across the outer plates of her armour and defensive shield. Red warning lights flashed before her eyes in the HUD. Angry percentages quickly rising as the advanced tech onboard struggled to keep up with the damage that was quickly amassing. In a matter of minutes, if not seconds, it would fail.

"Dagon!" She barreled forward through a wave of static, ignoring the numbing sensation that swept through her limbs, causing her gait to stagger and sway as she traversed the distance. A few feet that felt like a mile. "Focus on her, I've..."

Got this? That was an exaggeration. Even as she instinctively fell back on the lesson that Master Ebass had struggled to impart, channeling her telekinetic prowess in unison with the principles of the very same alter environment skill their opponent used with such flair and strength, she knew that her limited skill with waveform would not be enough to protect the pair.

She gritted her teeth. That was fine. If shielding two people from the ferocity of the electrical onslaught was beyond her, then one...

One was perhaps achievable, and an easy choice to make.

The Jedi opened herself up to the Force, her presence surging as she threw herself into the crashing waves, channeling her full strength into split the raging electrical storm in front of Dagon. Redirecting everything around and behind him...

Right into her awaiting form.

 

[A.I.M]

Objective: Kill the Sith
Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | Tulan Kor
Enemies: Irina Volkov | Valen | Sith Dominance

———​

The cover fire provided by the A.I.M. units was a success.

Red beams of energy danced across the battlefield, each bolt precisely calculated to take out any and all Sith troopers. There superior AI were finally put to the test, and they provided. The more Sith that perished meant only closer victory for the Alliance and the Imperials.

//:Continue taking out their soldiers. A victorious outcome is projected for us:\\
​

Robotic acknowledgements and cheers came from the other walkers. They had been given a connected mind, so each unit all processed and acted on orders at the same time. Only another reason that their were superior to the Sith forces.

Suddenly, there night-vision scanners turned on.

Obviously, it was not night. Just moments ago the sun had been beating down on their Durasteel bodies, requiring the internal-coolers to turn on. So what could possibly be happening.

//:A.I.M. units, manually override the system to shut off the night vision:\\
​

The walkers all simultaneously went into their programming and manually overridded the programming. An error like this had such a low chance of happening. Once all the walkers had switched over to normal vision, they realized something: it was dark outside.

This wasn't right.

//:Go back to night vision, now! The enemy ha~~~~:\\
​

It was at that moment when the first walker got struck by the orbital bombardment. It tore straight through their head before taking out its two front legs. The large machine could not longer support the weight. Falling forward, the large mechanical beast hit the ground with a loud crash. Nearby soldiers were almost crushed by the walker as they ran for safety.

After seeing what happened to their first unit, the other A.I.M.s all looked upward. The blackened sky was suddenly illuminated with stars of the night. Except these stars were moving, heading straight towards them.

They would never know what Hell is like, but this is the closest they could get.

//:Take cove~~~~:\\
​

A duo of A.I.M. units were struck next, both in their backs. The force of the blast knocked them both backwards, having them land on some of the nearby soldiers. It was chaos.

The remaining eight walkers knew their fate was sealed. It was only a matter of die before they all died. But they tried to push out that event for as long as possible. Aiming all of their weapons to the sky, the walkers opened fire.

They had no intentions to hit the ship that shot this bombardment. No, they were trying to take out the bombardment itself. It was working better than calculated. Some of the blasts collided with each other, exploding into an energy burst. Yet it wasn't enough.

Another three walkers were struck, collapsing to the ground. More of the nearby soldiers kept getting crushed, unable to move out of the way fast enough. The soldiers wouldn't die fighting, yet forced to die running. It was a horrific sight to see.

Five remaining A.I.M. units continued to fire on the bombardment. A few more collisions happened, buying them a little more time. It looked like almost all of the remaining soldiers got to safety.

Third and fourth walkers were taken out by each other. Three was struck in the right leg, which then caused him to be unbalanced. Four was still firing when three fell into them, immobilizing the both of them. This left them open to a volley of hits from the incoming attack.

Madness still continued on, showing no sign of stopping. Only three walkers were left, their fates already sealed.

//:Two units, form up in front of me. I need to send a transmission. Hurry!:\\
​

Two walkers formed up in front of the third walker, still firing into the sky. The shielded walked still fired, but at a much slower rate. All remaining power had put into the brain. It was important that this message got out.

Another hit. Two walkers remain.

By now the processor was pushed to its limits, never being built for this kind of event. Yet it still went on. It had to, or else it would mean failure.

The blast took out another walker. Only one A.I.M. unit remained.

Looking upward, they quickly calculated that there was twenty two seconds until termination. The brain worked at incredibly speeds to send that message.

Nineteen seconds.

The message was finalizing.

Fourteen sends.

Slowly the message began to send.

Nine seconds.

It was almost there. Just a little more time.

Four seconds.

Sending now...

One second.

The last thing that A.I.M. unit saw was a final message appearing across their screen: Transmission Sent.

Their final second on this planet was spent shutting down the brain, going into an eternal sleep. It had completed its tasks that it was programmed for. Now it was time for rest. A final command was sent out to the other units, though they lay broken on the floor. This all happened while the final it watched the bombardment speeding towards them. But it was time.

//:Long live the Galactic Alliance and the New Imperial Order:\\​

 

[Darth Ahriman]

Inventory: Apparel | Lightsaber.
Support: Sigma-Five Squadron, Specialized Infantry Unit.
Allies: Sith Dominance & Taeli Raaf
Opposition: Cotan Sar'andor | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Captain Raith | Irveric Tavlar | Tulan Kor | Maynard Treicolt | @Tal Willan Tal | Zirell Marxon | Kal Ostan | Tiberius | A.I.M | Zark San Tekka

"Sir, transport in-bound. We're being ordered to withdraw immediately!" the Captain of Sigma-Five called to Valen as the Sith Acolyte deflected yet another blaster shot away from the men, reaching out for the shooter and pulling him off of his feet towards them, stopping his momentum by driving the lightsaber through his chest and slamming him down into the ground.

Looking up, his eyes darkened as the instructions registered; "Withdraw?" he growled, turning to look back at the Captain as all around them the troops were returning fire against the Invading army. Orders were orders, and Valen couldn't afford to disappoint his Master by having Zeptepi Zambrano disrespected due to her Apprentice failing to abide by the chain of command.

"Command better know what it's doing..." he seethed, though spoke the words under his breath as he turned his back on the battlefront as the transport descended down for an emergency pickup, the stationed gunner on the side of the craft lighting up to cover their retreat as Valen moved to board, Sigma-Five in tow.

As the troop transport kicked up from the battlefield, the Acolyte stood to watch on the open side as their troops stopped pushing back against the opposition, holding the line but moving no further. "What's their plan?" Valen spoke over the noise of the transport's engines, glancing back to Sigma-Five's Commanding Officer.

Suddenly everything went dark. Not pitch black but as though the light from the sky had disappeared. Clouded, in fact. "You're looking at it" the Captain replied, his voice echoing his astonishment at the sight of the Super Star Dreadnought having exited from hyperspace. Had their coordinates been slightly off...

"Holy kriff..." Valen whispered, eyes wide as he stared up at the giant vessel, truly worth of the name Behemoth II; "I don't believe it" he added, turning his gaze back down towards the battlefield as their transport continued to clear them away from the firing zone.

From above came the reign of turbo-laser fire, followed by the sound of thunder as the Dreadnoughts turrets opened up on everything within reach. It was one thing to see the damage such starships could do in space, but to have a front-row seat to the total obliteration of the surface, gravity and all...-This was to be a sight that Valen would never forget.

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Behemoth II-class Super Star Dreadnought arrives overhead.
• Valen boards the Sith-Imperial Transport sent by Sith Dominance.​
• Valen and Sigma-Five withdraw to a safe distance as the Behemoth II unleashes hell.​

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.




His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying the shock she clamped down on. She hadn't expected him to agree. She expected resistance, scorn, or the end of the cease fire that apparently still held firm.

Even at war.

Despite the patterns of their past, his palms remained empty of weapons. Even more unsettling was his gaze. It was empty-- void of the hatred she knew all too well. She almost didn't know what to do without it. The damaged walls rattled with the sounds of another impact. She grimaced and shied back, her torso sliding down the wall and to the ground. The hall was poorly lit. The only light poured in from the shattered opening they had scooted through.

Another boom rattled the world; the disruption was normal now. She flinched all the same, her nerves clearly raw. All the while he... he stood there... numb and unaffected. A chill grew up her spine as she observed him.

She knew him as a boy full of fire-- spunk-- he blistered with emotions that bleed out of him like a raging river. They were his fuel, like they were hers. Now he was barely more than a husk. She had seen this phenomena before in others. Fallen others.

He wasn't calm, he was checked out.


"I get it, you know. What you're feeling. Or what you're not." She looked away from him and tucked her knees up.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's eyes narrowed indignantly. "What, is this a therapy session now?" A hypocritical rebuke coming from him. His habit of well-intentioned hypocrisy was well observed by this point, but now, rather than well-intentioned, it tasted more of defiant phlegmatics. After a few steps, arms crossed over his chest, he sat on the remains of what was once a wall, or some other architectural feature. Impossible to really tell at this point.

"I'm just tired," he said. As if all dissent to her gesture had suddenly deflated from him along with the sigh that had preceded it. "There's always fighting. I'm always fighting, you know?" Dual sapphires gazed vacantly down at his boots over the dirt. Memories of the last decade flashed, all drowned in scapes of war and strife. Always fighting, as a child, and now in the earliest years of manhood. All of them flooded the force-presence of his vicinity, murking the mental space.

Suddenly, his throat opened to emanate a strange noise. A strange laughter unfitting to the atmosphere. "No, no-" he rebuked with feigned amusement. "I see what this is," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't do that," he accused. "Clever, I'll hand it to you, but you're not going to get anything out of me that way." Either hand gripped tight around his knees, leaning forward with pressure on his heels. "Don't try to play me like that."

Denial.

Her face softened in confusion, her intentions quickly misconstrued to the very damn thing he had done to her. Typical. "What-... oh feck off. I couldn't care less what side of the force you use. It's all the same; we all use it the same."

Another vibration violently shook the ground under them, sending down a wave of dust from ceilings. Her expression tightened at the timely accusation of her point. Would this structure hold? Or should they take their chances back in the open air? She didn't have answers. She curled in tighter, trying to ignore the hole that throbbed subtly inside her chest.

Was that corruption? Or just pain? It was hard to tell them apart anymore. She looked up to the husk of a boy mirroring her stance.

"I don't want anything from you," Her expression closed off. The rare hand she had extended was pulled back just as fast. Always a bad idea.

"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."

 

[Leon Gallo]

Saber Seven
Allies: Siloh Riain Len Vert
Enemies: Seela Leini
Shields at full
Stealth disabled
Sensors scrambled

Leon nodded as the ion shots connected. A few more hits, then a volley of blaster cannons should finish this quickly. The enemy pilot turned, and flew straight for him. Evidently they'd been able to find him. As they made their turn, Leon shut down the ship's stealth systems. He'd need the energy in his ship's other systems. Easing up on the controls, Saber Seven slowed further, to give him more time to aim. A deep breath, and he began to squeeze the trigger again...Just as his sensors were scrambled.

With a curse, Leon dove. A Jedi didn't necessarily need their ship's sensors to fight, but they helped. As the pilot turned his targeting computer off- it was useless now-he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to get back into the flow he'd felt in Ziost's skies, that wonderful merging of pilot and machine. With a weaving maneuver to try and prevent his opponent from tailing him, he let the force begin to take him.

He felt her now, though faintly. Only what she was doing. He could feel the other nearby pilots too, Sith-imperial and Alliance. But he could also feel his X-wing responding just slightly faster to his inputs. Good. He'd need the edge, especially now that his opponent was behind him. His eyes closed, Leon began visualizing the field of battle with the Force.



With his sensors jammed, he hadn't detected the Behemoth joining the fight. It was too far away for him to feel the crew. Instead, he felt the sudden rush of dread it brought with it. The Jedi on the ground and in the air's fear reached him through the Force. The screams of thousands being annihilated by the storm of turbolaser fire stabbed at Leon's mind. worse still, he could see them. Misty figures, projecting agony, fear, and hate. Not just the dead in this new attack, but all who had died in the past weeks of fighting. His feet felt wet as Leon found the river of souls flowing through his X-wing, shifting to follow his path.


Leon screamed, ripping himself from his battle trance. His ship took off on a wild roll to the right, throwing its pilot against his restraints. He struggled to regain control of his ship, spending valuable time pulling himself out of the spin. Time his enemy could use to her advantage...

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A rebuke spat from his lips in Zeltron, a hidden insult. "That's not what I meant- You- Whatever, forget it." Even in the vaguest kind of confiding, friction reared its ugly head. A smaller extension of the larger conflict, or the manifestation of deeper a contention?

"I don't want anything from you,"
"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."​

"You asked me to stay!" he protested. Standing up, he loomed overhead, raising his voice further. "You dig around in my head, think you can tell me how I feel, then what? Just tell me to delta!?" As the ground shook again, he stood, feet planted, unwavering. "Don't give me that, you want nothing from me, you asked me. I'm trying to oblige, not play games. So, what?"

Unshielded minds left sensations and emotions thick on the air. Intentions, however, clouded. As was the nature of the dark side. "You want help with that gaping sensation in your chest? You just tryin' ta' bait me into striking you? Or you really want me to go like you didn't just cry for help? What?"

"What do you want?"

 

[Kisaku Oroken]

Auteme Aaran Tafo Okkeus Dainlei | Alina Tremiru Darth Strosius Saket Keane | Asmundr Varobalder ​

Stay here. Those were Auteme's exact words, and he could tell when she spoke them she was protective of him. Worried. He knew why - the wounds from the sith lightning seemed incredibly stubborn to heal. It was likely that whatever he had done to himself in the fight had only made the damage more extensive. What he could feel right now through the meld that connected him grew a rising frustration within him. His fists tightened as he sensed the fighting, and knew it was not only Auteme putting herself on the like, but Aaran too.

As a spike of fear shot through Auteme he lurched to his feet. Pain shot through him as he staggered on bare feet on the cold metal of the ship's middeck. His hand went to his lightsaber as his features tightened, landing on it to bring it to bear - and yet he was stopped. A length of leather cordage bonded his saber to his sash.

Peaceknots, he had learned, were an ancient Jedaii tradition in which they would bind their sword into it's scabbard so that it would not easily be drawn. A prayer, a positive aspiration sent out into the universe by their actions that they would not have to draw their blade to kill. He had adopted it, and now it gave him pause.

He might lose control again if he fought. He was a jedi, and not only that but in his eyes, a Jedi that one of his only redeeming features was his skill with a blade. Aaran had told him that he was stronger than he knew, but Kisaku never felt that way. After everything that had happened he felt pathetic. A pale shadow of what others thought him to be, like he didn't deserve the accolade. His one source of pride had been turned into a pool of fear and anxiety.

He knew that if he fought, the darkness could swallow him, and that each time it did it would take a piece of his soul with it. The dark side was a tide; each time it washed in high, it would sweep the beaches of his heart until it was barren and ripe to be corrupted and occupied. Most sith submitted to it for the terrible power it promised. Foolishly, arrogantly believing they could be masters of the dark, when the dark would only master them.

Kisaku was of no such illusion, and yet he clothed his heart in armor of steel. A scythe-like blade unfolded from his bracer, ejecting into his hand that rose and deftly severed the cord binding his lightsaber.

If there was anything worth dying a death of soul for, it was the protection of those closest to him. In the battle that came before he had witnessed naked battle, knew the reality of it. Knew what his master, and his close mentor put themselves to. This time he did not walk forward with naivety.

He walked forward with purpose. He delved into the force to push away the pain as he began to walk, his kama folding itself back into his bracer at his behest, and his lightsaber igniting an amethyst haze, crackling with the promise of violence.

He felt the darkness creep along the threads. He welcomed the inevitable with a solemn, cold focus.

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Ziost System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA (Siloh Riain Len Vert Leon Gallo Teica Giraan ) │ NIO
Theme: Touch the Sky

The reverberating impact of the Behemoth II Super Star Dreadnought entering the system was all encompassing, in the sense that its presence could be felt across all corners of the battlespace around and on Ziost, even for those who lacked the gifts of the Force. For SV-2121 it was a uniquely spiritual experience, eliciting frantic chants spoken in ur-Kittât as her unworthy mortal eyes bore witness to the sight of his divine wrath. Had she not been flying for her life against a bloodthirsty bandit, she might have clawed them from her face wholesale, to let the blood stream down her cheeks in atonement for daring to look upon such a sacred manifestation of her Father’s will. Even so, the prayer brought her renewed focus and resolve. The Darkness she had been conceived within fed off of the pain and suffering transpiring on the ground, simmering to a boil within her soul as she sought to move onto the tail of the enemy in her sights. While its expression was entirely unconscious, the Darkness nevertheless gave her tangible strength where the starpilot of the Light found bitter weakness.

It was this strength that the Twi’lek unknowingly tapped into, allowing her to stay on the X-Wing’s tail as the Jedi attempted a weaving maneuver in an effort to shake her off. While his craft was agile, it gave her nothing that she could not match. The wild spin briefly caught her off kilter, but she did not fail in capitalizing on the enemy’s mistake. She continued to follow through, approaching the bandit from behind and to their upper right, aiming her craft’s chin slightly ahead of their fuselage in a lead pursuit as the pilot worked to recover from the spiral. All the while, the Twi’lek cut some of her speed via the braking engines in order to minimize the risk of an overshoot that could set her on the defensive once more. A passionate mix of hatred, fear, and blind, spiritual devotion filled her heart as she gave the mental command to fire, casting forth a burst of five corsucating magenta beams into the stars, each aimed to strike the heretic fighter on the wings...

Spoiler: Loadout

• Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Hyper Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
  • Universal Hypervelocity Mass Driver Missile / Warhead Launcher (2)
    • Diamond Boron Missile
    • Brilliant Missile

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.




His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying the shock she clamped down on. She hadn't expected him to agree. She expected resistance, scorn, or the end of the cease fire that apparently still held firm.

Even at war.

Despite the patterns of their past, his palms remained empty of weapons. Even more unsettling was his gaze. It was empty-- void of the hatred she knew all too well. She almost didn't know what to do without it. The damaged walls rattled with the sounds of another impact. She grimaced and shied back, her torso sliding down the wall and to the ground. The hall was poorly lit. The only light poured in from the shattered opening they had scooted through.

Another boom rattled the world; the disruption was normal now. She flinched all the same, her nerves clearly raw. All the while he... he stood there... numb and unaffected. A chill grew up her spine as she observed him.

She knew him as a boy full of fire-- spunk-- he blistered with emotions that bleed out of him like a raging river. They were his fuel, like they were hers. Now he was barely more than a husk. She had seen this phenomena before in others. Fallen others.

He wasn't calm, he was checked out.


"I get it, you know. What you're feeling. Or what you're not." She looked away from him and tucked her knees up.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's eyes narrowed indignantly. "What, is this a therapy session now?" A hypocritical rebuke coming from him. His habit of well-intentioned hypocrisy was well observed by this point, but now, rather than well-intentioned, it tasted more of defiant phlegmatics. After a few steps, arms crossed over his chest, he sat on the remains of what was once a wall, or some other architectural feature. Impossible to really tell at this point.

"I'm just tired," he said. As if all dissent to her gesture had suddenly deflated from him along with the sigh that had preceded it. "There's always fighting. I'm always fighting, you know?" Dual sapphires gazed vacantly down at his boots over the dirt. Memories of the last decade flashed, all drowned in scapes of war and strife. Always fighting, as a child, and now in the earliest years of manhood. All of them flooded the force-presence of his vicinity, murking the mental space.

Suddenly, his throat opened to emanate a strange noise. A strange laughter unfitting to the atmosphere. "No, no-" he rebuked with feigned amusement. "I see what this is," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't do that," he accused. "Clever, I'll hand it to you, but you're not going to get anything out of me that way." Either hand gripped tight around his knees, leaning forward with pressure on his heels. "Don't try to play me like that."

Denial.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her face softened in confusion, her intentions quickly misconstrued to the very damn thing he had done to her. Typical. "What-... oh feck off. I couldn't care less what side of the force you use. It's all the same; we all use it the same."

Another vibration violently shook the ground under them, sending down a wave of dust from ceilings. Her expression tightened at the timely accusation of her point. Would this structure hold? Or should they take their chances back in the open air? She didn't have answers. She curled in tighter, trying to ignore the hole that throbbed subtly inside her chest.

Was that corruption? Or just pain? It was hard to tell them apart anymore. She looked up to the husk of a boy mirroring her stance.

"I don't want anything from you," Her expression closed off. The rare hand she had extended was pulled back just as fast. Always a bad idea.

"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A rebuke spat from his lips in Zeltron, a hidden insult. "That's not what I meant- You- Whatever, forget it." Even in the vaguest kind of confiding, friction reared its ugly head. A smaller extension of the larger conflict, or the manifestation of deeper a contention?



"You asked me to stay!" he protested. Standing up, he loomed overhead, raising his voice further. "You dig around in my head, think you can tell me how I feel, then what? Just tell me to delta!?" As the ground shook again, he stood, feet planted, unwavering. "Don't give me that, you want nothing from me, you asked me. I'm trying to oblige, not play games. So, what?"

Unshielded minds left sensations and emotions thick on the air. Intentions, however, clouded. As was the nature of the dark side. "You want help with that gaping sensation in your chest? You just tryin' ta' bait me into striking you? Or you really want me to go like you didn't just cry for help? What?"

"What do you want?"

"I don't know!" She screamed, her tension exploding into a burst onto her feet. Her shoulders had grown tighter as he stood-- raising his voice and looming over her. It had transported her backwards. Suddenly she was small. Helpless. Chained down with no control over who she was.

Even as a slave she had felt trapped. Nothing had changed, yet everything about her was different. She shoved him back, buying herself space to breathe. If he was expecting an abrupt fight, he would be left cold. She took another step back, her fingers dragging frantically through her hair. Her energy was erratic, out of her own control.

"I don't know," she near sobbed, yanking on her roots in an attempt to ground herself. It didn't work. The ground rumbled. The corruption pulled insistantly at her core. The Jedi's eyes bore into her. Beyond them both was death. Mindless, heartless death.

She couldn't bare it. Who in their right mind could?

"You're the only one on this godforsaken world that wants me alive. I just thought we-" might understand each other. Her fingers went limp in her hair as she realized how foolish that sounded.

"Forget it." She moved to shove past him, her cheeks red with an emotion she couldn't place.

Embarrassment.

 

[Aelys]

ZIOST | New Adasta
Equipment: Saberstaff, New Jedi Order Jacket

"Why are we here?"

There was only silence in response to his lamenting.

The body, the dead, the victim... The Sith. Laid there, unmoving. And Aelys could do little else but stare, waiting, as if his persistence with talking and staring would magically will the body back to life. Maybe if he had been stronger with the Force, maybe if he hadn't swung where he did. Maybe if he had been gentler...

No! It's a battle. It's war. He shot at me... I gave him an option... And he shot at me.

"Don't put your weapon down. Don't turn your back on the enemy either."

The words that Ryv had gifted him before they had parted ways on Prosperity echoed in his mind. Those had been the words that drove him to do what he did. To swing that saber the way he did. Glancing down at his hip, he felt the saberstaff there, and he stared at it, contemplatively. The instant I put it down... I was tricked. Aelys recalled, shaking his head. His hand swiping across his thigh to snatch up his staff, eyeing its build. Naturally, eh was familiar with the hilt, he had made it. A tool for peacekeeping, but also, an extension of himself. Its purpose simplified, it was made to kill, wasn't it?

And that's what I did, Aelys thought, pressing the staff to his forehead. "That's what I did," he repeated audibly. In those moments, his attempt at being better was rebuffed. Instead of the wrists he had expected to find settling into the cuffs, he was instead given crimson bolts of death. The remnants of the scars and welts on his flesh where the plasma had struck and marred his flesh were still there. His wounds hadn't been severe enough to necessitate full on exposure in a bacta tank. Not that anyone in New Adasta was getting that treatment right now.

The Sith fought to take back their city. Or what was left of it, after they shredded much of it.

"You Sith are sick monsters. You'd die for this?"

The only answer he got in turn was darkness. From his peripherals he could see the world blackened outside the window. It was only natural that he crossed the room again to look outside the shattered pane. At first, his gaze ran across the horizon of destroyed buildings, of blaster fire that was exchanged in the distance. Screams and shouts became louder as he leaned further to try and get a better look to what was going on. It was then, that, he looked up, and saw the gargantuan monster in the sky. "Real life... Monsters."

And as soon as his eyes settled on it, he felt the familiar voice of Prosperity's golden guardian.

Those of the Light, I beseech you to act. Strength is coming to take your lives, please, do what you can to protect your brothers. Barriers to the sky to meet the danger.

"No."

The looming darkness. The Force spoke to him. In these moments now? Death would come. And the flashes of death that sparked to life in his mind were enough to withdraw. To pull away from it all as the Behemoth in the sky emptied its salvo on the world below. His awareness lessened, and just as soon as those visions of pain and suffering were birthed in his mind, they stopped as Aelys shut himself from the Force.

Pulling away from the window, he felt the world rumble before he took a seat at one of the long tables.

"All of you should just... Die."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

TEMPLE ENGINEERING CORE, THE PROSPERITY
NEW JEDI ORDER
TO ENGAGE: Chasianna
THE GREAT MISCONCEPTIONS OF ME

Dagon's wild and violent assault continued with no remorse. Each strike of the blade coming down harder than the previous, fueled by the dark side energies radiating from his adversary. The taint of the shadow emboldening the cursed presence of his father. The crimson corruption clawed to find purchase into Sardun's Light and latch into its energy, only for the Jedi Master's unexpected touch through the force pacifying the rising calamity.

The padawan's tunnel vision into battering the Sith to dust proved to his detriment; another opening in his already laughable defense allowed the Qilin to snatch the opportunity. Repulsor blasts from her wrist-mounted weapon caught him off guard sending him back a dozen paces, crouching on one knee and one hand. The grotesque sound of bones cracking in his chest reverberating repeatedly in his ears on loop. He choked frantically for air, blood erupting from his cough and splattering on the durasteel floor. But his eyes did not shift from his foe.

Not until electricity crackled viciously all around him. The Sith wielding the force to tame the wild electric energies and send them forth at the two Jedi under her bidding. Dagon braced for an impact with an unpredictable outcome. Only for him to sense the Force stir from behind him and Kaska's voice to bellow, "Dagon!"

He turned his head around to see Kaska staggering forward - a conduit pulling away all of the electric bolts from him...to her.

"Focus on her, I've..."

Eyes widened in horror. Horror turned to rage. Rage turned to fury. Unhinged fury.

Save her, Dagon.

Reclaim your legacy.

He surrendered to the red veil, crossing the line. The crimson curse blasted into the surging Light of Sardun within corrupting the empyrean and claiming it as its own. A sulfur tide rose up in his eyes devouring any remains of ocean blue. Unbridled power enveloped his being enthralling his mind to Haytham's corruption. Dagon rose up on his feet, a tempest brewing in his hands. The ethereal dominated under his bidding manifested in a titan's grip to crush the Sith and cease her control over the electric storm blasting at Kaska.

ALLIES: GA | NIO | Kaska Arden | Michael Sardun
ENEMY: TSE

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"You don't know!?" he shouted back, even after she'd devolved to diminished sobbing in reply. "I didn't have to pick your sorry ass up out of the dirt, you know? The least you could do is not be so damn difficult!" On the verge of a more potent conniption, he was beginning to question why he even bothered. Was there really any point in trying to help someone that appeared so unwilling? Had he the space for self-analysis, he might have realized he hadn't really been acting very different. It was always more convenient to ignore those realities.

"You're the only one on this godforsaken world that wants me alive. I just thought we-"​

The indignation over his visage swirled into a squinting focus, slightly slacked jawed in heed. The tail end of the sentiment didn't manifest on lips, though from the vague empathic tinge of intent, it was all at once deciphered nonetheless. "Hey-" he manufactured a time-buying response as he processed everything in his head. No longer shouting, intonations aimlessly hesitant. "I'm not trying-"

"Forget it."​

A half step back. Hems and haws gasped and sputtered in protest before she made impact. "Wait-" was all he managed to articulate before she shoved past. Spinning with the momentum, he quickly hissed in a sentiment of impatience in his own language. Reaching out, he snatched for her arm with both reproach and guidance. "Hey!" he cried. Once the followthrough had spun her around, both hands would retreat away, each in a pacifistic palm-showing gesture. A half step back accentuated his unthreatening stance.

The very brief staredown felt like an hour. "Look, I'm-" He made noise with his throat and tongue that inflected begrudgingness. "Sorry." The involuntary scratching to the back of his head betrayed the scowl locked intentionally on his face. "I understand," he affirmed in a muffled continuation. "But you need to use your words instead of getting all scrappy," he added suddenly, sharply, trying to maintain the ill-mannered blase facade.

Another lingering silence stagnated betwixt them. A nebulous gesture toward an unimportant direction, conflicted and unsure manifested before he crossed his arms. A defensive stance as if retracting the movements altogether. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, defeated.

 

[Kainan]

Y O U N G _ C O N Q U E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LEGATE ACTUAL
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
Armour | Lightsaber
Arctus Silmar

"Do not fall into the perilous bonds of your own hubris, Kainan. Focus on what it will take to persevere, not the certainty of the victory we've yet to claim."

The measured response was almost enough to be off putting. To battle side by side with the Lord Executor, and face off against a Lord of the Sith? Kainan saw no benefits to being restrained by the potential strength of a foe. A Knight of the Empire he was, and he was no stranger to death or doling it out. Comfort would be found in the battle and Kainan would strike at their enemy with all he had. As soon as their lightsabres burst to life, those restraints would be off, and Kainan would be free to carve swathes as he wished.

It was inevitable.

And the clusters of Sith Legionnaires that they came across experienced that reality for themselves, as brief as it was. The Youthful Knight was ruthless in his actions, and wading through the corpses of loyal drones of the Empire meant little to him. With each step they took closer to the Dark Shadow, his focus sharpened. With each theft of life from the Sith that he took, his purpose was made more clear. Death, was his only duty, for as a weapon, it was his only purpose.

His function in the New Order was not to create, but to destroy.

To die.

At the hands of the Sith, or whoever needed to be expunged from the galaxy in the name of Order.

And as the Sith Lord stepped around the corner to come face to face with the duo, Rurik Fel didn't waste a moment in lurching down the corridor to take the Sith head on. Kainan's nostrils flared, and his argent blade carved through the air in defensive flourishes, as the Sith's automatons opened fire on him and the leader of their Order.

The bolts that flew at him, the staggered fire was blocked and parried, almost lazily. For the advantage that numerous ranged adversaries had against a blade wielding Force user was simultaneously firing on their target. To pause and alternate meant they themselves created the openings he needed to weave a defense. Some would find their marks on his armoured body. But the materials that the armour of the Imperial Knight was fabricated from was made with energy based weapons in mind.

The first droid his attention was drawn to was the one that fired on Fel, his right hand lurching out to will the Force forwards as his splayed out digits tightened into his palm, to a fist. And down the hallway, the droid didn't possess the ability to protect itself from the metaphysical power that imbued Kainan with the natural ability. Its aim was altered, and as Kainan's awareness snatched up the weapons of the remaining trio, their target was also altered. And with a degree of his focus centred on the blasters, the Force pinned those droids fingers to the trigger -- and forced them to unload death unto the one they followed.


Allies | NIO | NJO | Nearby | Rurik Fel | Aerarii Tithe | Jak Ross | Areyon
Enemies | TSE | Arctus Silmar | Ingrid L'lerim

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
Armor [ 104th Skin ] | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

INTO THE FLOOD AGAIN
​

All coming together. With the military goliath that was the New Imperial Order clued into the plan of attack. Or rather, defense. It was time shut the jaws down closed around the outstretched neck of the enemy. The Sith often projected its force well, placing a great deal of military firepower where it was needed. The New Imperials and Alliance were just as a good at mitigating its effectiveness on the field. After all, it led them up the climb that it took to finally meet them in equal footing.

'General Barran to General Treicolt! Good to finally hear from the 104th, as I'll admit our taskforces were beginning to wonder if your contingent had survived or not. An' funny-timing in mentioning,"Taking the bait", just there, as I can only imagine how that friendly bombing-run would've sounded on your end. I've seen that the Sith-Imperials are rather psychologically an' physically averse to fire an' such, even before that - beautiful napalm drop, so I have something of a plan for you already.'

'Spare no expense on your rockets, incendiaries or any other sort o' destructive ordnance, General Treicolt. You'll need to pick it all up an' meet me at the eastern corner of the Southern Napalm-Line, we don't want our already-routing opponents even seeing us to fancy their chances against us, you'll see the fires from the inner-city by now. And If the 7th Mechanised still stands to fight on, have them hold position in the north with all their incendiary ordnance as well. But first, I must pick someone up on the way there. Be sure to avoid the lightning and stay out of sight until you see us, Blue-Heart Alpha out!'
​

<"Copy, General. You want the fire we can get you the fire, just have to shore up the points where my men are in the thick of it as is, then we'll lay the punishment into the Sith. Keep rolling, take no prisoners."> Maynard voiced the way of the Galidraani. Before he could wield hellfire unto the Sith, the Pack needed to be consolidated once more from the chaos that ensued following the initial stages of the Sith assault.


But as much as they'd echoed the mantra, the killing could not come soon enough. The Wolfpack were Raiders and they needed their spoils in Sith bodies stacked high. Maybe then they could pile em enough to crawl off this forsaken world.

<"Nexu is bogged down, they're ringing up for immediate reinforcements."> Darik sounded out to Maynard who responded with a nod in his direction.

<"Copy, take 'Claw' and lift the heat off em, once that's done get Nexu up and moving to regroup on my spot."> He issued the command the way of the Captain who nodded once before revving his speeder and veering off down another street way. Enveloping Nexu's position, Wolf Pack troopers would come to the aid of the pinned unit, the ashen blue-grey and white coming up behind the unit atop BARC speeders and Glaive fighter tanks, hopping down from the vehicles they moved forward in a staggered wave, cover to cover to link up with Nexu in their dogged defense. Enough to sweep the corner of the street clean with the assistance of 7th Battalion snipers and emplacements.

<"Marxon! In the sh*t already, huh? We'll sweep through here but General wants a regroup on his spot. Need to start moving Tycho's plan along, you copy?"> Captain Darik voiced the way of Nexu Actual. His gaze then shifted above, the shadow of annihilation, Behemoth II eating away the sun like the deific depiction of an ancient god. That sight fired a shock down his spine at the sight. And soon, hellfire came but it wasn't the Wolves who wielded it...but the darkness.

ACID RAIN​

<"Star! Star!"> Shouted one of the Wolfpack marines through the flare ignited ashen and broken streets of New Adasta. Part one of two to the GADF friendly call out designated for Ziost.

<"Bird! Bird!"> The 7th Marines responded back with and soon they'd linked up. The deep gold and bluish grey differentiating the two units had both been awash from the urban ash that settled down over everything as a result of the devestation. Maynard followed in next, his hands free of any weapon as he marched with only the saber at his hip.

With the salute from the 1st Company troopers he nodded them both down from attention.

<"It's hell out here, as soon as Nexu links up with us we'll get our plan rolling. The Galidraani just requested the use of inciendiary and napalm...'assume you boys aren't afraid of fire? If not, I'll have the 1st do the honors of playing cook tonight. We'll po-"> The metallic shriek of the Behemoth II breaching Ziost's atmosphere and the Dark Side catalyst it carried aboard sent a system shock through Maynard's nerves. It wasn't another moment longer and the sight of the ship piercing between the jagged high rises began to come alight in the will of annihilation.

There was no where to run that'd ever save them. Maynard motioned the troopers close to him with a beckon of his arms.

<"On me!"> He barked out, urgency bleeding into his words before he held both arms into the air, exerting all of his will to manage a barrier of the force through all of those around him. The first volleys managed to splash against its surface before soon enough the sight of duracrete and metal crashing down around them before eventually, the devestation burned too bright and the barrier cracked.

His vision went black all the same. Shades of a similar fate met in these same streets not days prior.

Then he heard that voice speak back to him.

After he'd vowed through the stars he'd never give up on her...she spoke in return.

You never do.

That voice, yearning for him, the ever present affection evident in her tone, as if she was all but reassured by his determination even as he was buried in the fire, rubble and corpses of his comrades, he continued to writhe in defiance before he pieced together that sentiment might've been coming from the hereafter, the world beyond this one. Welcoming him to a peaceful end as he clawed for life. He felt his eyes close in that moment. And then her despicable counterpart shrieked through the nether.

But you should.

And in that, his eyes snapped open again, narrowing with determination.

But I won't.

He never would. And in that, he reached his arm out from the bodies of his brothers in arms that piled atop of him, struggling for every breath as his body ached and bled from the tortuous volley wrought down upon them.

But he had much, much more fight to give yet.

ALLIES | GA | NIO | Zirell Marxon | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal
ENEMIES | TSE | Valen | Irina Volkov | Loske Treicolt | OPEN FOR SCRAP

 

[Jim Martin]

Objective: Revenge
Location: The Ruins of outer New Adasta
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Valen | Cotan Sar'andor | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Captain Raith | Irveric Tavlar | Tulan Kor | Maynard Treicolt | Willan Tal | Zirell Marxon | Kal Ostan

-One week prior to the Eradication of New Adasta.

“Why are they still here!? The Sith beat them! Drove their reinforcements away! They’re making all of us miserable with their presence!” In one of the numerous homes of New Adasta the same conversation was being had. Why were the New Imperials and Galactic Alliance still here? Their stubbornness only made things that much harder for the people who actually lived there. The inability to leave the city because the Sith might shoot down any ship. The curfews. The strangers from systems too far away patrolling their streets.

Strangers who had no issue killing children now demand an iron grip on their home.

The Sith Empire’s propaganda machine was a powerful one. Half truths twisted to pain the Empire as protectors and saviors. That when sacrifices were made, it was because there was no other choice. Zoist was an old world that had been under the Sith for thousands of years. The people that lived on this desolate world did so because they believed.

The Martins were one of these families. Jim sat with his wife and son, listening to his boy talk about the occupation. The hate in his voice. Tom had only just entered highschool, and he was already full of this kind of hate. If he’d been a Sith, perhaps this would have been a good thing. But no one in his family had ever been blessed with the Force. “Why they’re still here doesn’t matter. They are. We just have to keep our heads down and push on. They’ll be run out eventually. They can’t survive here without reinforcements.”

Tom didn’t like that answer. He frustratedly slammed down his fork before getting up to storm off to his room. Lisa, Jim’s wife, tried to stop him. But Jim raised a hand and shook his head. “He’s angry. He’ll cool off. Regardless of who’s in control of the city, we’ll be safe if we keep our heads down.”

“So we hide? That’s all? Tom’s right, Jim. They shouldn’t be here. I..” She paused for a moment before getting up to hug her husband. “I know, you fought your fight already. But we’re tired.. When this is over, we should move. Anywhere but here.”

Jim clenched a hand. This home, it was gorgeous. Earned from him spilling his own and others blood. A part of him didn’t want to leave it behind. But an even larger part wanted his son to grow up a good man, free of the hate brewing in New Adasta. So he nodded.

“When this is over, we leave.”

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 5 hours prior.

“Tom’s gone! Jim! Where’s Tom!?” Lisa was freaking out as she rushed into Jim’s office. The war had started again, and the family was currently packing up to head out of the city. The Empire had sent word of an evacuation using the tunnels underneath New Adasta. His eyes widened. He’d seen it in passing for his work. Hidden posters calling for resistance against the oppressors of the town. Jim had chosen to ignore it. His fight was done. Over. He shouldn’t have ignored it.

“Get everything together and head down. I’ll find him. You get safe.” He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead with this promise and held her. Just for a few moments. Then he rushed off. On his way out he stopped by his medal of honor. The blood shed to earn it.. He picked up the frame and tossed it aside so he could grab the blaster hidden behind it.

He was out of the house as he looked over the gun to make sure it was loaded. Hopefully he wouldn’t need it, but he didn’t trust anything.

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 3 hour prior.

It’d taken far too long to find him. Jim knew that. It didn’t make sense. Tom wasn’t the type of kid to get mixed up in a bad crowd, but there was no sign of him, anywhere where he’d usually be. It wasn’t until he decided to head towards the rallies that he found his son.

These rallies were threatening to become riots. All of Adasta stood against the Galactic Alliance occupation. Not a single soul in the city felt like the Galactic Alliance or the New Imperials were some kind of savior to them. Every single person wanted them gone. It was horrifying. It was wrong. To stop the Sith who ran off hate, they only bread more towards themselves.

Then the first shot. Jim didn’t know who fired first. No one would, for it escalated quickly. Far quicker than it should have, but tensions were already high. They killed each other. Civilians and the Galactic Alliance occupation. It was chaos and panic. Hell, or at least, what Jim thought might be hell.

Worse was to come.

He had to fight. The Alliance was shooting anyone that wasn’t wearing their armor. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to find his son. Find Tom! The battle was over quickly. Hate filled civilians against hardened troopers were doomed from the start.

When the chaos ended, those left who didn’t want to fight were ushered towards the Space Port. No one wanted to go with them. They had their way out. They would survive, if they went down and under. Into the tunnels that lead to the Sith Empire evacuation. Why were they being gathered up? As shields?

Jim panicked. He followed from a distance, praying. Actually praying that his son had been taken by these killers. And he saw him. Tom, his boy. Being escorted with a number of others. Seemingly unharmed, which was a relief to Jim, but still being taken. ‘For their protection,’ he heard these troopers say. Jim spit from where he was hiding. After what just happened, how could they call themselves protectors? But he’d have to follow from a distance for now. He’d get his boy out, one way or another.

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 3 minutes prior.

It’d taken a bit, but with the war picking up outside the guard around the spaceport laxed enough for him to slip in. Jim immediately went to his son, pulling Tom into a tight embrace. “You idiot kid, all you had to do was wait..” His grip tightened around his son, who was stunned at first. And now openly sobbing. Just a boy in that crowd that was so savagely killed by the Alliance. They’d pay for it, one day.

“Alright. Your mother is waiting below. We’ll take one of the paths close by and find her. But we’ll have to run. Not just us. Everyone.” His gaze shifted around, nodding to the various other people that had been forced into the space port to await some sort of evacuation. An evacuation that never came.

Jim took the lead in this. It was supposed to be an easy task. Overwhelm a couple guards and escape while the Alliance's attention was elsewhere. But it never happened. He brought up his blaster to fire the first shot, and the sky opened up. It was a familiar sound that filled his ears at first. Turbolaser fire. His eyes widened as he immediately flung himself over his son to protect him.

It didn’t work.

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 2 minutes after the first volley.

Everything was pain. Every single part of his body felt like it had been crushed. No, it had been. He struggled in the blackness around him and he realized it almost immediately that something had fallen on him. His body was crushed. Bones likely dust. But still alive. Why was he still alive?

His eyes got used to the darkness around him, and he saw it. He tried to scream. Tried to get free of the pillar that was crushing his body. Anything and everything he could think to do he tried, but nothing worked.

All he could do was stare into the lifeless eyes of his son.

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 10 minutes after the first volley.

Death was supposed to be a release from this. The earlier slaughter he thought had been hell, but this? This had to be. This had to be his punishment from everything he’d done in service to the Empire. All the people he killed, innocent or not. He couldn’t die. He wasn’t breathing but he couldn’t die.

Jim just stared into his son’s dead gaze. Then it stared back.

Something unnatural occurred within this hell. A voice echoed from all around Jim, filling his ears, his soul.

“Why aren’t you dead?”

He couldn’t answer.

“What keeps you in this world?”

He couldn’t say anything.

“Hate. That’s what kept you here, isn’t it? Hate for these invaders making your son experience anger. Despair. Pain. Death.”

Jim wanted nothing more than to scream.

“You want revenge.”

Still nothing could come out of his crushed lungs.

“I need a body. You’ll do fine.”

Then everything went black again.

-Day of the Eradication of New Adasta, 30 minutes after the first volley.

Jim awoke in his home. What was left of his home, at least. It’d been destroyed by the bombardment as so many other things had. His broken body wasn’t broken any longer. The pain was gone. If anything, he felt numb. It wasn’t a dream. He knew that. His son was gone.

A presence spoke in the back of his mind. Foreign, yet familiar. An ally. “Take my gift. Bring ruin to your enemies.” Then it was gone. No, just faint. Buried in his mind as if hibernating. His hollow gaze turned around what was left of his home. The memories of him starting his family. Of bringing his son home for the first time. Of watching him grow into the young man he was. Taken too soon. The ex-Shadow Fist stood up from the remnants of the couch that had survived and once more checked his blaster.

There were still people to kill.

 

[Tulan Kor]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER STORMTROOPER CORPS
SPECIAL OPERATIONS BRANCH
DEMON COMPANY
ALLIES: NIO l GA l Irveric Tavlar l Willan Tal l Tiberius l Kal Ostan l Captain Raith l Cotan Sar'andor l DECEASED Erskine Barran l Tiberius
Enemies: TSE l Irina Volkov l Valen l Sith Dominance

Not a soul for miles, not a soul in any of them.

​

The rubble of the once-peaceful city was something to behold as Tulan made his way across. It was scorch marked, forever changed. The landscape had been torn apart, hills had become flat, great stones hidden beneath the Earth protruded violently upwards, still red-hot from the bombardment.

And despite the destruction, despite the harrowing assault on it all- the boiled lakes, the crushed homes, the dead civilians, the fight was not over.

Ziost was not lost.

Ziost was not taken.

Ziost would not be.

Tulan scaled the burning rubble, his gloves digging into the concrete and rubble time and again, scanning the horizon. He leveled his rifle across the landscape, using the optic on it to zoom in where need be.

For a great long while, Tulan walked. Over dead New Imperials. Over dead Sith. Over dead civilians. Over dead Legionnaires. The latter two were mostly one and the same- the Sith had escorted them away, then armed the populace in desperation. The entireity of the Sith's actions wreaked not of victory, but of desperation.

And in their desperation, they killed their own men. Nothing was more cruel to Tulan, more heartless. Tulan's Demon Company was renowned for it's lethality, as much as it was for Tulan's deep love for it. There would be no replacing that loss. He knew every soldier under his charge. Every man and woman he had, he knew their name, what they did, and where they came from. He prayed that at least one survived. His guilt, even now, was starting to build.

He pushed the thoughts aside of himself, and focused on the task at hand. He had to reconvene and get to the New Imperial Order that he was yet living, and that the Devil had not yet paid his due.

He collapsed against the rubble against a passing Sith patrol, counting their numbers.

Twelve.

He had enough ammo for all of them. A bullet for each of them, etched with their names. He stuck the barrel of the caseless, suppressed rifle from his concealed position, and opened fire on the droids first. The humanoids reacted faster- scrambling to cover. The droids stood out in the open, falling to the deadly, precise fire of Tulan. He knew how to handle the droids, and their weak points. The droids were felled, unable to determine a direct point of contact. The slugthrower rifle- the now infamous RS-16 that became the Hallmark of his troopers, tore through the enemy, armor and all. He waited for a moment, repositioning himself in the upper rubble that he was hiding in, moving downward, closer to the overturned Earth.

The Sith Troopers spoke internally in their helmets- only Tulan could hear muffled voices.

They were flanked, not outnumbered like they thought.

Tulan snuck up on the first, placing the barrel of his rifle in the man's neck, ending him with a quick THWACK of his suppressed rifle. Pivoting on his heel, he turned and engaged the other six with equal precision, who were only able to turn and face Tulan from their low-lying position.

There was nothing to stop him from doing it- his positioning earned him the victory, not just his skill with his rifle. He took the grenades and the webbing off of the dead, and stopped. He picked up the helmet off of the last one- who he had shot in the chest. He ignored the young man's twisted face. He had no more sympathy. As far as he knew at the moment, they were here by choice. And they had to live with what they did. Or at least- they did.

The helmet was alien but familiar. Sith Stormtrooper technology hadn't changed all that much in his time. It was easy to access the communication protocols. He broadcasted over an open channel to both the Sith and the New Imperial, although it was only able to do so by text- that way the range was much greater. He sat for a moment and thought of what to say, as he only had enough power to make out one message- and he'd have to ditch the helmet as soon as he sent the message out. The Sith would be on him like flies to shit. He had one chance to make it count, to let the New Imperials know that he was still alive, and to inflict fear into the Sith.

THERE ARE STILL DEMONS
I WILL NOT STOP
I WILL KILL YOU ALL
GO HOME​

Tulan tossed the helmet away, leaving the bodies where they lay, heading off further into the destruction to continue to enact his horrible revenge.

 

[Noelle Varanin]

.

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Perl | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.




A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.




"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.

Unresponsive to the war zone around them.

Her own pain caught in her throat. Stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"

Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.

She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

The sound was deafening, though the impact only manifested a flinch. Forearm rose to shield eyes from dust and debris as he squinted against the current. Stepping against it, he begrudgingly took Aradia by the arm and pulled her upward, moving them both deeper into cover as an unidentified ship burst into flames overhead and careened down somewhere beyond view.

As soon as a sufficient roof loomed overhead, he released her and spun around to face her. "This is why I said we should move," he quipped with dissatisfaction, face now peppered with war-dust. "-And no one sent me here. I should be elsewhere, but- You know what? It doesn't matter. But yes, that's it, I figured. We aren't kids Aradia, especially not when we take up arms. I'm not here for moral debates, I gave that up on Bastion."

He shook his head, an indecipherable expression on his dirt-mired face. "I was looking for you," he confessed plainly. He followed the trail most potent in the force, as he assumed was its will. Why else would it be so blatant on the air? "What happened to you?" he demanded. "You're usually so stubborn you'd suffocate if I told you to breathe, but you were just about to let me kill you back there. For what?" If every moment meant something, as he'd been taught, this one was a particularly agitating puzzle.

Was it empathy? A dogged search for meaning in this chaos? He intentionally ignored the harder questions.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Emotion bit across her expression, a fierce scowl turning to a sudden tremble on a dime. She was losing it. Everything felt so far away and yet so loud. She wanted to scream. She wanted to burn things. She wanted to curl up and cry and never leave her bed again.

His question brought a laugh bubbling to her lips, half crazed and half tormented.

"Exactly. For. What?"

The words hung in the air, nonsensical. Her eyes bugged as if it was all obvious. It wasn't.

"I'm a traitor. You know that? I snuck some kids out of here before the jedi hit the gates--" A distant collusion echoed to them, joining the cacophony all around them. "And for what?" She gestured at the deadly destruction of the Academy around them.

"You're back! It doesn't matter what I do-- You're always back! You won't stop until every single one of us are dead. And for what? Those students at the academy didn't chose to fight. Not like you. You came to their home and their owners put weapons in their hands and turned them into flesh shields. And I-

"I can't stop it. No matter how much power I take in-- don't look at me with like that-- don't you think I fear the darkness too? But you won't stop, you never stop!" She bellowed, fire jetting harmlessly out from her hands.

The corruption billowed off her, dominating the once complex harmony that had been her energy. Everything was off about her. The pure note of hope was gone --smothered-- as she poured out her heart to him for the first time.

"Make them stop." Tears carved clean paths down her cheeks. She stepped towards, imploring. Desperation gleamed in her still blue gaze.

"Please. Before there's nothing left."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A slight blench recoiled from the insistent, imploring tears. He grimaced, one eye squeezing shut as was his signature uncomfortable mannerism. "Don't do that," he protested weakly. It was definitely empathy, he could see it now. "I can't either," he conceded. "Either way you look at it, it's young people forced into war. It's not good, or right, it's war. It's reality. I can't declare the war to be over. I can't force the Empire to evacuate acolytes rather than arm them, nor can I tell the Alliance to call off the Stygian Campaign."

Zaavik took a disarming half-step backward. "We're cogs, Aradia. From my order's blood machine to yours, that's all we are. We have no say in any of this. It's an extension of a conflict as old as time itself, you know that. It's up there with the absolutes of the universe, like time or death." He sighed, shoulder sinking with exhale, leaving him looking a diminished shell of his usual headstrong carriage.

"I don't know what you want me to do," he protested softly. "You always decline my help, and now you're practically begging me? To do what? You're a traitor now, you say, and I can offer you the same thing I offered on Bastion in that case... -but I doubt that's your idea of help in this scenario." The corners of his mouth tightened into a flat purse as the outward edges of lips curled in.

"I'm just one person- Don't look at me like that."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I'm not running away to be some jedi," she dismissed in distaste. She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself, the motion tight and desperate.

His reasoning brought her no comfort. Life brought her no pleasure. The reality they lived in was stark. Harsh. Bleak. It was no wonder Kaalia Pavanos had tried to remove her from the front lines when the first signs of strain had shown. Aradia should have listened to her. Her old master really had had her best interests at heart.

Unlike the Empire.

But she still needed the heartless system. The Empire gave her resources-- instructors-- bases to rest and reset. It took more from her than she could spare, but without it... she had nothing. She couldn't leave.

She wasn't half as free as she thought she was.

She turned back to him sharply, a guttural noise pulling from her chest.

"So we don't do it. We don't go out there. We don't fight. What's there left anyways? It's just dirt. Bombed dirt. Is that really worth dying for? For once, let's think for ourselves.

"Stay here with me."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Features flickered, widening with an affronted expression for a brief moment. "Yeah, I didn't think so." That much had been made clear on Bastion. A great Jedi once declared that 'No one's ever really gone.' There were people much more qualified to analyze the real meaning of that than he. Though, admittedly he sometimes wondered what it really meant. Did it apply to Sith as well? No one meant no one, didn't it? Then again, even those among the greatest Jedi could be wrong.

Comms chatter crackled to life to the piece in his ear. Several voices relayed information, spouted orders, rambled off codes in the Alliance's specific military vernacular. Only one stood out: 'Nox is MIA.' Hearing them acknowledge his callsign sent a chill down his spine. So they'd finally noticed his absence, as was the inevitable. Though, he doubted significant suspicions would arise, at least not yet. It was war, chaos on its purest form. But, should he stick around much longer, he'd have an abundant level of explaining to do.

A finger pressed the side of the earpiece, temporarily silencing the device. There was still time to figure this out. Enough to even, perhaps, convince her what the right path was. If she still had the capacity for this much grief, the light hadn't entirely flickered out just yet. It was massively hypocritical to give her a second, third, fourth, countless unnumbered chance when he'd neglected to give it to others. Bastra, Zoltan Street, among others. All snuffed after singular wrongdoing, singular slights.




His head recoiled at an angle, brow furrowing with the narrowing of both eyes. So that's what it was? He hadn't expected such a request, although truthfully he felt fewer reservations than he believed he probably should have. "What are you-?" Hemming and hawing ensued, the inquiry devolving into a silent glare, filled in equal parts with consideration and suspicion. His comm device began to sound off again, this time attempting to address him directly, but somehow he could hardly hear it.

"Fine."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying the shock she clamped down on. She hadn't expected him to agree. She expected resistance, scorn, or the end of the cease fire that apparently still held firm.

Even at war.

Despite the patterns of their past, his palms remained empty of weapons. Even more unsettling was his gaze. It was empty-- void of the hatred she knew all too well. She almost didn't know what to do without it. The damaged walls rattled with the sounds of another impact. She grimaced and shied back, her torso sliding down the wall and to the ground. The hall was poorly lit. The only light poured in from the shattered opening they had scooted through.

Another boom rattled the world; the disruption was normal now. She flinched all the same, her nerves clearly raw. All the while he... he stood there... numb and unaffected. A chill grew up her spine as she observed him.

She knew him as a boy full of fire-- spunk-- he blistered with emotions that bleed out of him like a raging river. They were his fuel, like they were hers. Now he was barely more than a husk. She had seen this phenomena before in others. Fallen others.

He wasn't calm, he was checked out.


"I get it, you know. What you're feeling. Or what you're not." She looked away from him and tucked her knees up.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Zaavik's eyes narrowed indignantly. "What, is this a therapy session now?" A hypocritical rebuke coming from him. His habit of well-intentioned hypocrisy was well observed by this point, but now, rather than well-intentioned, it tasted more of defiant phlegmatics. After a few steps, arms crossed over his chest, he sat on the remains of what was once a wall, or some other architectural feature. Impossible to really tell at this point.

"I'm just tired," he said. As if all dissent to her gesture had suddenly deflated from him along with the sigh that had preceded it. "There's always fighting. I'm always fighting, you know?" Dual sapphires gazed vacantly down at his boots over the dirt. Memories of the last decade flashed, all drowned in scapes of war and strife. Always fighting, as a child, and now in the earliest years of manhood. All of them flooded the force-presence of his vicinity, murking the mental space.

Suddenly, his throat opened to emanate a strange noise. A strange laughter unfitting to the atmosphere. "No, no-" he rebuked with feigned amusement. "I see what this is," he added, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't do that," he accused. "Clever, I'll hand it to you, but you're not going to get anything out of me that way." Either hand gripped tight around his knees, leaning forward with pressure on his heels. "Don't try to play me like that."

Denial.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

Her face softened in confusion, her intentions quickly misconstrued to the very damn thing he had done to her. Typical. "What-... oh feck off. I couldn't care less what side of the force you use. It's all the same; we all use it the same."

Another vibration violently shook the ground under them, sending down a wave of dust from ceilings. Her expression tightened at the timely accusation of her point. Would this structure hold? Or should they take their chances back in the open air? She didn't have answers. She curled in tighter, trying to ignore the hole that throbbed subtly inside her chest.

Was that corruption? Or just pain? It was hard to tell them apart anymore. She looked up to the husk of a boy mirroring her stance.

"I don't want anything from you," Her expression closed off. The rare hand she had extended was pulled back just as fast. Always a bad idea.

"Go for all I care. I'm sure the endless fighting is doomed without you."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A rebuke spat from his lips in Zeltron, a hidden insult. "That's not what I meant- You- Whatever, forget it." Even in the vaguest kind of confiding, friction reared its ugly head. A smaller extension of the larger conflict, or the manifestation of deeper a contention?



"You asked me to stay!" he protested. Standing up, he loomed overhead, raising his voice further. "You dig around in my head, think you can tell me how I feel, then what? Just tell me to delta!?" As the ground shook again, he stood, feet planted, unwavering. "Don't give me that, you want nothing from me, you asked me. I'm trying to oblige, not play games. So, what?"

Unshielded minds left sensations and emotions thick on the air. Intentions, however, clouded. As was the nature of the dark side. "You want help with that gaping sensation in your chest? You just tryin' ta' bait me into striking you? Or you really want me to go like you didn't just cry for help? What?"

"What do you want?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Perl | closed​

"I don't know!" She screamed, her tension exploding into a burst onto her feet. Her shoulders had grown tighter as he stood-- raising his voice and looming over her. It had transported her backwards. Suddenly she was small. Helpless. Chained down with no control over who she was.

Even as a slave she had felt trapped. Nothing had changed, yet everything about her was different. She shoved him back, buying herself space to breathe. If he was expecting an abrupt fight, he would be left cold. She took another step back, her fingers dragging frantically through her hair. Her energy was erratic, out of her own control.

"I don't know," she near sobbed, yanking on her roots in an attempt to ground herself. It didn't work. The ground rumbled. The corruption pulled insistantly at her core. The Jedi's eyes bore into her. Beyond them both was death. Mindless, heartless death.

She couldn't bare it. Who in their right mind could?

"You're the only one on this godforsaken world that wants me alive. I just thought we-" might understand each other. Her fingers went limp in her hair as she realized how foolish that sounded.

"Forget it." She moved to shove past him, her cheeks red with an emotion she couldn't place.

Embarrassment.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"You don't know!?" he shouted back, even after she'd devolved to diminished sobbing in reply. "I didn't have to pick your sorry ass up out of the dirt, you know? The least you could do is not be so damn difficult!" On the verge of a more potent conniption, he was beginning to question why he even bothered. Was there really any point in trying to help someone that appeared so unwilling? Had he the space for self-analysis, he might have realized he hadn't really been acting very different. It was always more convenient to ignore those realities.




The indignation over his visage swirled into a squinting focus, slightly slacked jawed in heed. The tail end of the sentiment didn't manifest on lips, though from the vague empathic tinge of intent, it was all at once deciphered nonetheless. "Hey-" he manufactured a time-buying response as he processed everything in his head. No longer shouting, intonations aimlessly hesitant. "I'm not trying-"




A half step back. Hems and haws gasped and sputtered in protest before she made impact. "Wait-" was all he managed to articulate before she shoved past. Spinning with the momentum, he quickly hissed in a sentiment of impatience in his own language. Reaching out, he snatched for her arm with both reproach and guidance. "Hey!" he cried. Once the followthrough had spun her around, both hands would retreat away, each in a pacifistic palm-showing gesture. A half step back accentuated his unthreatening stance.

The very brief staredown felt like an hour. "Look, I'm-" He made noise with his throat and tongue that inflected begrudgingness. "Sorry." The involuntary scratching to the back of his head betrayed the scowl locked intentionally on his face. "I understand," he affirmed in a muffled continuation. "But you need to use your words instead of getting all scrappy," he added suddenly, sharply, trying to maintain the ill-mannered blase facade.

Another lingering silence stagnated betwixt them. A nebulous gesture toward an unimportant direction, conflicted and unsure manifested before he crossed his arms. A defensive stance as if retracting the movements altogether. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, defeated.

"I tried using my words, you called it a therapy session," she snuffed back, indignant and strangely bruised about it all. Her chest heaved with heavy emotion, the moment feeling so out of control. How did they get here? Their dynamic was a like a pendulum, swinging erratically from one spectrum to another.

She wrapped her arms around herself, finally turning to face him in full. A lingering silence drifted between them. Her lips pulled into a purse as she studied his posture... his words... his very being seemed to be retracting again. Her own frustration snuffed out, something akin to guilt flickering through her.

"I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, me--"

The structure vibrated again, a tile from the ceiling dropping between them. Aradia jerked back with a gasp, the world around them whipping back to her attention. "Feth, they're going to flatten this place," she hissed, frustrated.

"Come one, there's durasteel rooms deeper in. We'll be safer there," She offered, gesturing deeper into the rumbled unknown.

 

[Saket Keane]

/The Pillar Men/
Tags: Alina Tremiru | Darth Strosius | Auteme | Kisaku Oroken | Okkeus Dainlei | Aaran Tafo | Brama Tagge ​

Objective 2 // Post 3
​

"Coming, coming!" He groaned as he pulled himself from the floor. "Stupid alarmz-" No sooner had he rose did a door in the left wall swing back.

"INTRUDER AL--"

A dry snap and hiss interrupted the grainy voice and Saket watched as the droid's chest slowly split then fall at its new molten seam. The saber's orange blade receded but the hilt remained in Saket's hand, and he turned his attention back to Alisteri as the fellow acolyte started down the hall.

"I am with you, brother."

Shoving off with a tentative hop he made certain his soles wouldn't betray him again. He then broke into an animated run, his arms swinging and legs driving to manage a semblance of speed natural to his Sangnir kin. He would be the last to arrive at Alina's side but no less unprepared, yet when he saw the Jedi engaged with his Sith sister he let out a growl.

"THHAT one!? The tahlker!" He drew the other lightsaber from his belt then activated both blades, striking the yellow and orange bars together in a duelist's flourish. "Take hiz kneez, I take hiz tongue!"

Though heavily garbed Saket leapt forward with grace only befitting a dancer, his sabers a blur as they were swept from the shoulder and toward Aaran's neck.