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

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XII
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor Noel Strasza
Fisk Kamer DT-0800 A.I.M
Djorn Bline Rika Hiro
Tiberius Julian Qar Arcturus Tal
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Maynard Treicolt
Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka
Kinoan Asmundr Varobalder Aelys Allyson Locke

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf Sith Dominance
The Amalgam Laertia Io Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore | Mylesy's Trusty Fairbairn

A BARRAN WASTELAND - A Stormchaser's Sword 2 (The Chosen Blades of Fates Intertwined)

'Who is the Amalgam - to you? Your turn to talk now - er... What the kark is your name, by the way?'

Standing at a safe (or rather, safe enough) distance, Lord Erskine was watching on with arms folded, observing the spitting image of his dead son growling as she pulled herself free from the jutting Fleeter debris; however, this time around would leave the blood-spilling effect nowhere to be seen, just pure mercury-like liquid metal, returning to the source-host as the hole in her head, her broken knees and the frenzied Meyer-style cuts to her torso from before gradually diminished. All would look to return to normal before the Advanced Nuetralizer spoke again, but she proved him wrong in her own show of otherworldly endurance, reverting to her base form and replying,'The Amalgam and her Witches are but useful tools...', with a massive gap in the center of her forehead.

Pausing as she waited for the legs to strengthen a little more beneath her, the Nanite-Droid straightened her posture and let the studded biker-leather imitation take shape before continuing,'That's all she has ever been, in spite of her power. And as to your other question...I haven't picked one before this moment. This is my second Battle. My first was aboard The Prosperity to kill personnel and sabotage equipment. I am the reason the Prosperity was delayed from reaching Bastion.'. A fact that actually irritated the Lord-Commander to some degree, though not by any lasting means, considering that Vostok's Dark Troopers would've survived their envelopment if the Prosperity had arrived to offer air-support in time, though understanding the Prosperity could've done nothing to stop the ICBM that killed Heggy and Jorie just as much as he did on the aforementioned circumstances.

Pausing properly this time, but dwelling on his question as a ploy to buy herself time hadn't escaped Barran's notice, though it was seemingly allowed to stand out of sheer curiosity alone. As he kept his arms folded, the Brigadier-General stood almost statue-still as he considered the difference in the time it took to heal from blunt-force trauma, and inwardly compared the results to those of the cuts he'd inflicted beforehand, watching like a hawk, studying the head slowly taking form again as the pair stood completely silent in the fading, smoky-light of the battlefield mist as it covered the descent of Ziost's sun. Eventually, the feminine droid would resume in her attempt to respond to the best of her ability, revealing,'If I must have a name, call me...Effigy. For the face you see is one all my Sisters bare. The face of one murdered by The Amalgam.', letting her arms form into two of the most unnatural swords Erskine had ever seen as she spoke.
Oh, how foul! And she choose to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with the Amalgam, knowing all this? Disgusting....

'I am an Advanced Model 1, The first general production Nanite Assassin Droid, First Generation. My Brothers are shock troops. I am an assassin and sabotuer. Bred for war, for conflict. Your soldiers had to have the Murder trained into you. But Murder is part of a Nuetralizer from the moment they are first activated. We walk the path of Death and Hell, from the moment the first spark of thought erupts in our minds to the last second before shut down, we are ALWAYS ready to wage war, Lord Commander, and we are here to wage it on Ziost to the bitter end, your hands around our throats as much as ours will be around yours, shedding us of weakness...'

Where most would be terrified in the Brigadier-General's place, Erskine seemed to be getting the spinal rushes again; feeling the aesthetic pleasure from the prospect of dragging his Nanite-driven adversary to a Hellish afterlife with him, getting goosebumps at the mere thought of both of them trying their hardest to choke the life from each other and still trying to wipe each other's souls from the memory of time itself. Agreeing such revelations would shed them of every last inner weakness they possessed, and knowing his near-death before had in fact shed him of every weakness his heart possessed, the wisdom of the Advanced Model 1 had imparted was taken with appreciative seriousness for the first of (what looked to become) a long run of fighting moments of clarity between them.

'Now answer me something, Erskine Barran! Why, why, why do you persist?'

It was a good question to ask him in that moment, the Lord-Commander couldn't deny it, as the answer was somewhat impossible for him to grasp at until then; all Erskine knew of the how-and-why was that something had dragged him from his own madness, and coincidentally the dead-heap he'd almost slipped into at the base of that crumbling garden wall, something he couldn't articulate into words without serious extensive thought and analyses on the matter. All Erskine could really take from the matter was the meaning of a simple nugget of wisdom from his favourite Woad intellectual of old, shrugging when he replied,'Not so sure it's for me t'say at this point, Effigy. But I'll say this much, there may be wisdom in the philosophies of Gordon Thrast that could aid us in answering such a question, humour me if you will....'

"The mind is a being of it's own, and if trained and tempered - strength and power become of it. But what else can become of it from within those same glorious recesses of the sentient psyche? What else is there to save us from perdition, if not the very hands we were born to carve out a future with? Something else resides within, and it's kept us alive from the very beginning, even in our most simplistic of evolutionary forms. Warriors, son.... Never underestimate them, for they never fight alone."

An apt excerpt to quote at such a pivotal moment of their fight, for both opposing warriors had something within them that escaped their complete control; on one hand, the Nanites were constantly working to keep Effigy alive, even if ever it seemed like she wouldn't them to, and on the other, the unexplainable somehow blessing the slumped Blue-Heart General of all people. Drawing his sword once and setting his posture once more, and perhaps for the last time that day, or perhaps for the last time ever, the Lord-Commander set his posture and said,'We'll maybe find the answers to such questions before we meet our ends, but I still have more questions.... Firstly, I'd rather get some more fighting done before that, if you don't mind. Shall we?'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - A Stormchaser's Sword 3 (Erskine Vs. Effigy)

That's right, Erskine.... Dip the hips, bend the knees and lead the blade down in front of you.

Wielding her dual-blades like a sword-dancer, twirling them around in an attempt to keep the Lord-Commander's eyes from focusing on her shoulders and constantly-switching stance, the Advanced Nuetralizer would be the first to strike out as her opponent maintained his calm, energy-conserving posture, but Erskine would draw both her intended stabbing-devices upward and over towards her left side waistline and attempt a spinning-pivot in the other direction. Effigy would be having none of it, backpedalling to find a safer angle of attack as Erskine slowly drew backwards to reassert his posture for the next engagement, keeping his Vibrosword lower than his poise as the Advanced Model 1 formulated another plan in silence.

The posture is everything with this technique, Erskine. Keep it nice an' loose, relaxed an' measured.

Opening her guard to hold both blades over her shoulder, Effigy would start her approach with a run to slow into two forward skip-jumps that led to lateral movement Erskine hadn't seen her displaying before, though his rotation to meet the new line of attack would be enough to keep his eyes on the mercury blades before they swung around towards his left arm and throat. He didn't decide to duck, roll or kneel, nor did he try to backpedal or make lateral steps in the other direction, but Barran had decided to run straight at her and force the Advanced Nuetralizer to sidestep and quickly sprint out of harm's way. Bluntforce trauma was off the table with Effigy, so anything resembling attempts to hit or grab for slams would be treated with a near-cerebral level of physical respect, despite her clearly being in a fully-healed state in that moment.

This frustrated the Advanced Model 1 enough to take a more head-on approach in the next phase of the bout, running in low to get on a hip-level with the Brigadier-General's own, only to find herself having little more than a split-second window to avoid the sudden pommel movement that pointed Barran's blade right under her chin. Taking the outside angle, the Nanite-droid shifted her weight quick enough to aid her in bobbing her head in a rightward direction, but she would have to block the Lord-Commander's blade as it whipped round in an attempt to catch her across her mercury eyeballs, blocking the blade with her left as her right tried to stab his midriff whilst he was in a similarly transitory state. Just as Effigy knew Erskine wouldn't be able to catch her in his original intended angle, Erskine knew Effigy wouldn't be able to catch him in her intended angle-of-attack either, so they both followed their outward trajectory to reassert their stances and plans of attack with begrudging willingness to keep with each other's fighting states of psychological flow.

Another relaxed posture stance, but I want to attempt something in particular this time....

Noting the change in the Blue-Heart's choice of blade positioning, the Nuetralizer soon reverted to using just one of her mercury-imitation swords, and deciding on the spot to make the one she had remaining a little longer and wider for reasons Barran knew all too well. Whether this made the blade heavier or not, Erskine knew he'd be in big trouble if he didn't block a strike from it, but this only made him keener than ever to try the new augmentation to his complete stance. In all of this, through all the feints, dodges and lunges, they both seemed to be in a state of combat perfection without even realising it, like their bodies had taken control and started putting on the competition of a lifetime without their input or forethought; continuing to fight on like nothing else even remotely mattered in these moments, like nothing else even existed in their shared solitude of duelling souls. The only words said between them in the next ten minutes or so of combat bliss, only two were spoken by Lord Erskine, growling,'Keep - going!', as the droid's eyes began to express indications of disbelief in the fact they were both fighting so well, urging himself as much as he was urging Effigy to fight on without distraction.
​

​

 

[Saket Keane]

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

​

Objective 2 // Post 4
​

"Another one!" The Ubese exclaimed as he recovered from his lunge then reared back as sabers collided. A hasted glance was shot over his shoulder as Kisaku appeared. "Thhey surround us--" his gaze fell back to the other arrivals, specifically the male with the electric personality. He leaned closer, the respirator of his mask hissing as he exhaled, "But we will stand...and thhey will burn."

The Wyrm of Clan Keane kept himself near Alina's right as she tussled with Aaran the talker. Static arched across the blades originating from Okkeus, causing Saket to grip the hilts tighter in expectation. He aimed to stay locked with his opponent, his patience an unspoken challenge of raw strength to Okkeus. That is until he saw Alisteri, the frailest of their trio, throw himself faithfirst at the barefoot Miraluka. If Alisteri was feeling so bold then how much bolder should the Ubese feel, being of strength and constitution hardier than most? He grinned beneath his mask, inspired both by Alina's initiative and Alisteri's fervor. With a distorted roar he drove his arms forward to shove off the Jedi's bind. His breath was deep as he inhaled the gases made native to his homeworld, his chest expanding wide before he reached his lung's capacity. The mask clicked and snapped as the respirator unlocked then folded into his helmet, exposing him to the lifeless Type 1 atmosphere. Gas muddled the air about his head before a blur of yellow took center view, and with a bellow of fresh rage Saket exhaled, spitting a stream of orange flame down the corridor.

It would last only three to five seconds, the Acolyte still only being the wyrm of his clan. But the technique was his token move, the Ubese using it early to insure the safety of his adopted kin.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

WE RISE
ZIOST ORBIT | ASV PROFUNDITY
GASOLINE

Sienn, Reverence, Vagt, Nyssa, Rhea, Diona, Nuroch, Shikoba, Zhaleh, Sergeant Vagt Bwi'kat, Tahoka –– they were all very unexpected. Especially since the GA hadn’t sent them. They all looked so typically..sith. Except for maybe the Bothan and the woman with short-cropped blonde hair. The rest they couldn’t really make out, though the crew had been watching their ghostly outlines move throughout the corridors. It had almost been cinematic, the way the Champions of the Flame expertly vanquished the sith that plagued the ship, but in real life they were….a lot. The dynamic was overwhelming and strangely colloquial given the urgency of their peril.

The crew cringed when Lorn was swept up in a gale-force blow, slammed against the wall. All together they shrunk into one another. Cowering until they were told to look toward the screen. Slowly, one after the other, they turned to look.

What they saw was a rupture. Total rupture. They couldn’t hear the groan from the pressure of the ship that had managed to lodge itself parallel to the jagged rip in the hull, but it threatened to make the tear even larger.

As if they all shared the same lungs, they all sucked in a single breath of awe.

And then they all let it out, realizing the implications.

“The ships..”

“We don’t have time to negotiate,” Jeanne murmured quietly. She was a mousey mechanic, excellent at her job but couldn’t do it without glasses. She’d survived only because she’d been so scared and proficient at hiding. Now she no longer wanted to hide.

She wanted to run.

“Please, get us out of here.”

She wanted to live.

Lorn, still in Nyssa’s grip surrendered and went limp with a nod. His admission was small, mouseish. Afraid. “Yes..Please.”

Elpsis’ mastery over the inferno made the ASV’s hangar like an apocalyptic oven. Any air that moved through the flames started to hum, stressing the metal skeleton and skin of the service vessel, and finding space to strain and leak through. Small wisps of fire licked through the fissure, immediately swallowed by the chill of space.

Too consumed by the deluge of kinetic force glancing off its body, the best didn’t even notice the whispers of air currents. All the fire was sensationally overwhelming, all-encompassing and blinding in both brilliance and hotness.

A typhonic whirl of flames coalesced and tunnelled toward them, and no unseen shield would be strong enough to dissuade it in their primal, enraged state. The symbiote barked out in shocked pain, the constant burn snapping all their senses. It worked tirelessly to keep itself repaired, but the force of the onslaught was too overwhelming. Elpsis’ devastating tunnel of fire connected with its outline and it was lifted from its feet backwards. It dropped, only by gravity’s mercy, while the metal and red glowing debris slammed against the wearing hull. Above the crackle and roar of the flames, the ship creaked and groaned and finally broke through in a screaming wind. Everything in the room suddenly drew to the small opening of the ship.

Small at first, the collision between internal and external force quickly rallied the attention of the nearby tossed starfighter and it quivered against the suction of space, before the metal folded in on itself, crumpling into a rupture that sheared through the structure.

Space was supposed to be quiet, but the wind that pulled the objects within the hangar (including the monster) to the void filled the hangar with a banshee-like howl.

Even with their heightened predatorial senses, everything became a great blur as the wind carried it, tossing and rolling until their talons managed to pierce through the durasteel floor. If it hadn’t been so heated by the inferno, it might not have been able to puncture through and slow their path. Nevertheless -- the exertion was agonizing, tearing through the muscles of their arms. Four lines from each hand grooved into the floor, metal curling away from the punctures as it was yanked backward by the abyss.

The finality of its situation was the air tugging at it once, hard, as it evacuated.

Adrenaline flooded the monster’s blood as it was assaulted by invisible pain on every square centimetre of oily flesh. The breath in its lungs rushed out of it, trying to pull its lungs along and out as well. With its lungs empty, there was no reserve. It wasn’t holding in its breath, instead it would have to survive off the gas held inside it.

A human could hold their breath for a couple of minutes in a breathable atmosphere. How long could the beast in the vacuum, unaided?

A wave of dizziness swept over it, and it squeezed its eyes closed to keep from panicking.

Panic was such a human reaction.

And right now, they were very much panicked. But not very much human.

Symbiosis was strange.

Against the immensity of the ship, the ferociousness that had been the sithspawn was little more than a speck of squirming matter. Claw over claw, the best braced against the curve of the ship below the rupture where flames continued to be sucked into the ether –– swallowed and instantly extinguished in the freezing blackness. Its ribs ached; its eyes ached. Its diaphragm tugged at its gut, trying to inflate lungs squeezed to knots. They looked out in the direction of the torrent. The void was there, the great dome of stars.

Panic arose again, the humanity within poking through in the tribulation. It thought space was supposed to be silent, but it heard its heartbeat like someone hammering against its temple.

The ASV Profundity shone brilliantly. An umbilical was hanging to the creature's right, too bright to look at directly and more than halfway retracted. Shadows streaked its side, every protrusion and rivet cutting the sunlight into strips of darkness.

​

Radiant heat pressed against its throat and face and everything fell slightly out of focus as its eyes deformed. The stars shifted from diamond points of light to halos to clouds, like the whole universe dissolving.

SURVIVAL | Elpsis Kerrigan

 

[Dagon Kaze]

TEMPLE ENGINEERING CORE, THE PROSPERITY
NEW JEDI ORDER
ENGAGING: Chasianna
THE IDOL

No words were exchanged between the two as Kaska rushed to close in on the Sith; her distrust in the young Jedi rippling through the Force. Dagon shoved the scraping hurt into that same hollow scar left behind by Sardun's cleansing fire. Only the vocation to finish the fight remained in the forefront of his mind.

He deactivated his saber, shut his eyes to call on the Force and nearly blacked out. The ethereal lifting his eyes open as he reached forth with his hand. A telekinetic grasp conjuring around the Sith to bind, or at least slow her reactions to the impending slash of Kaska's dagger.

He was no longer running on stamina. Only willpower.

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

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Temple Engineering Core, Prosperity
Allies: TSE ( Vaylin )
Enemies: GA ( Kaska Arden Dagon Kaze Michael Sardun ) │ NIO

Now or never.

In the back of her Sense, the Sister could feel the security squads closing in on the engineering room, ready to reinforce the two Jedi and pin her in a trap. All the while, her body sung with white hot pain, but so far, she had been lucky, in the sense that the armor which was now in her mangled mash of an arm had acted as a kind of tourniquet, thereby staving off blood loss and allowing her to fight for longer. Upon seeing the charging form of the female Jedi as her vision returned, the Sister sought to act in counter, but her reflexes were sluggish. In stark contrast, the blade of the woman’s knife dug into her midsection with the speed of a Jango Jumper, ripping through pale flesh and drawing blood, enough that some splattered on the floor.

Unfortunately, her luck was beginning to run out.

Pale, now going on pallid features twisted into an expression of anger. Her answer was violent and immediate, manifesting in the form of a point blank concussive blast from the repulsor weapon on her right wrist, aimed for the woman’s chest and intended to throw her back from whence she came. If successful, the Sister would then tap into the electrical energies within the room, while also drawing power from within, fueled by pain, disgust, anger, and devotion.

Now, she fought only for him.

From seemingly all directions, fulminating energy was cast down towards the two Jedi from multiple points of discharge, from the front, above, and behind for each, manifesting a raging electrical storm that was called forth from the room’s seemingly endless supply of galvanic energy. It was an attempt to electrocute both outright, but given the approaching security squads, the electromancer knew that she might have to accept less, if she wanted to escape with her life.

Spoiler: Loadout

• First Sister’s Sith Uniform
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Energy Shield(s)
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Alchemical Talisman(s)
    • Jin'Wodasir - Pins of Protection (2)
    • Talisman of Concentration
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Vertigon Gas
  • Utility Belt
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • Empyrean Infusion
• Miniaturized Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber
• Whimsy Knife
• DL-13 Holdout Blaster

 

[Michael Sardun]

Enemy: Vaylin
Objective: Cleanse.

​

He stared down at Dagon Kaze and Kaska Arden .

Part of him didn't want to retreat.

It wanted to continue to stand with them. This enemy, Chasianna , was more dangerous to Kaska than Sardun could have imagined. He knew why this was. His former padawan was too distracted with Kaze. The weak boy that had no business being on this battlefield. His heart fragile, his mind in a state of disarray because it didn't know what it wanted.

A fatal flaw.

He couldn't stay.

Elsewhere his battle raged on. He did not feel any pain yet, but time was a tricky thing when you were fully immersed within the Force. Maybe only a few moments had passed since he left his body behind to offer support to these two. No, Sardun had to go back and end it. Already the fiery avatar was fading out, letting himself be dragged back by the anchor that was his armor.

And yet Michael couldn't resist. As his presence brushed past the stalwart form of Knight Arden he whispered.

if he steps out of this room alive, you are responsible for any future acts of his. he has proven himself weak once. what will you do if he fails again and innocents get hurt in the progress? we will not always be there with him to stop him.

Maybe it was a mistake to say it, but Kaska was still young. She thought there were areas of gray, nuance, that she could separate the world into. She hadn't yet failed. Utterly. Entirely. Hadn't yet seen her nation crumble from within. Hadn't felt the betrayal of her closest friends. Sardun wanted to spare her from these realities, but he could not. All that the old Jedi Master could do... was make sure she walked into any situation with both eyes open.

If she wanted to leave Dagon alive? Fine. But she had to know what she risked with that.

His eyes snapped open and just in time to see Vaylin dash towards him with a blade at ready. Too close to dodge. He saw that already. His armor (and in all honesty his age) made him too slow to move out of the way.

Sometimes you had to accept pain to avoid greater calamity.

As fast as Sardun could he raised his hand, putting it in the trajectory of the looming blade point, serving as a wall. The blade hit his gauntlet. Then it pierced the metal, as imbued steel was met by alchemized iron. Sardun snarled as he felt Vaylin's blade rip through his armor and hit flesh. It ripped through skin, flesh and bone, before piercing the other end of his gauntlet.

And still it came as the Sith Lord and Jedi Master struggled in concentrated fury.

Yet the blade kept coming closer and closer to the gap in Sardun's helmet. He didn't have the leverage to twist away or push Vaylin back. It pushed farther in, piercing the shadows of his helmet.

"I know... your little... secret, Sithling." Sardun struggled to say, breathing heavy from exertion, as he tried to keep away the blade from his eye. "Let's bring it into the light." The moment he said that the Jedi Master inched the blade away from his eye as much as he could. Maybe he'd lose it anyway, but it would be worth it-

With his free arm he moved to grab Vaylin by the throat.

"Mine." The man growled in pain as blood seeped over his face, the blade finally hitting home. As it did? A fiery burst of Force Light escaped his hand to sink deep into Vaylin's throat and deeper into her body.

"Show me your real face."

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective: Shatter the Shield
Location: Aboard her Lumiya Class Interceptor
Equipment: See Sig
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Darth Strosius | Saket Keane | Aaran Tafo | Auteme | Okkeus Dainlei | Kisaku Oroken

Chit. The rest of the Jedi had arrived? No, not all of them. But more than Alina would of cared for. Her mask turned to watch Auteme come into view. She could feel how the Force curled around them all. Summoned to strike? Alina pulled back from her attack against the aptly named 'Talker' to brace herself. The blast hit her square in the chest, causing any charge she was going to do to halt.

Then more came. The fighter? No, wait. Auteme. The masked visage settled on the woman who had thrown the Force at her. The Shield. Alina stood up straight, holding her lightspear behind her so the blade almost touched the ground at her side. Her mask clicked off, using the coms between the trio. "Change of plans. We break the Shield of the New Jedi Order." The com clicked off as the flame erupted from Saket, flooding the hallway in an inferno of red. For a brief moment Alina was actually scared of such a power.

She'd learned the hard way just how hard it was for her Sangnir blood to repair burns.

Her armor though, that didn't care as much. She leapt through the stream of fire, using it as cover to close the distance on the Shield. She brought down the spear in an overhanded thrust, right down upon the Jedi with her unnatural might.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
Equipment: Armour, Rifle, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Loske Treicolt

The Profundity's hangar was a blazing inferno. The relentless, merciless flames demanded their tribute. The fire was overwhelming and all-consuming. And so the fissures grew. The hybrid Sithspawn was flung out into the void, but so was Elpsis. The starfighter that had crashed into the wall behind her had torn a hole into the hull. The devastation wrought by the typhonic whirl of flame had only made things worse.

Air was being sucked into the void. Abruptly Elpsis was lifted off her feet and flung out of the hangar into the darkness of the void. She barely managed to hold onto the outsides of the vessel. Yet holding onto the cold durasteel was a huge, agonising exertion. One of her hands had already been crushed by the debris the Sithspawn had tossed at her earlier, so this put the burden on her dominant hand.

Desperately, she sought to pour the Force into her arm, trying to compensate for the fact that she only had one good hand to use by amplifying its strength. White-hot pain shot through her as she struggled against the cold void. She knew that her mother had been spaced once - and almost died, though Siobhan had never talked about it. It was some comfort that her armour was fully sealed and that she had a tank filled with air - for now. For how long? Quarter of an hour. Maybe a bit longer.

She just needed to hold on, conserve air and get back. Her heart thundered inside her chest. She braced herself against the hull, and saw the flames being sucked out into the fathomless void. In space, there was no fire, just as there was supposed to be no sound. The fires were devoured by the ether. A myriad celestial bodies dotted the void, as did warships large and small.

And she could still perceive her foe. Like her, the Sithspawn was struggling to hold on. Self-preservation would dictate that Elpsis see to it that she made it out alive. But she still had her duty - and her anger. And so she gathered what power she could see and directed it into a telekinetic push, aiming to knock the abomination into the void. Then a piece of debris struck Elpsis hard. It hurt, but that was not the most concerning thing. That went to the words she heard inside her skull. "Warning, oxygen leak. 49% remaining..."

xxx

Nyssa's grip suddenly grew limp and she let go of Lorn. Indeed, for a moment she seemed to forget that he existed. Her yellow eyes were glued to the screen. Her jaw tightened and she ground her teeth. "Frakking idiot," she hissed.
"Lieutenant Vykaris," Vagt grunted, speaking up when no one else would. "The Lieutenant's air tank lasts for fifteen to thirty minutes. We can grab her if we move fast."
"What about the ship? It's full of monsters. Can't leave them alive," Reverence chimed in.
"Self-destruct," Sienn suggested. "I could trigger a reactor overload and...," she trailed off when she realised the implications.

"That'll kill her!" Rhea thundered, causing the Twi'lek to wince slightly. "Dump it in deep space. The fleet can destroy it."
"Wait, we bled to get this far. We can vent the air from the ship."
"This isn't about prestige," Diona informed her flatly. Looking at the inferno on the screen, she felt conflicted. She did not want her commander dead, but on the other hand. Her heart leaned towards abandoning it in the void. Her rational mind said something else. "Or a vote. We need a decision now."

"Shut up, all of you," Nyssa shouted. Indeed such was the force of her outburst that a long-forgotten cup on one of the desks hit the floor, shattering into pieces and spilling stimcaf all over the floor. "We're going to ram the ship into the nearest wreck. Sienn, call the held, tell them to be in position. We're going to tractor-beam Elpsis. Call the Emberdawn."
The Pureblood looked at the crew. "Can you get it done?"
Lorn took a breath. "Yes," he said, looking at his motley band of survivors. A measure of confidence and resolve had returned to his voice. He met the Pureblood's gaze. "We'll do our part."
Vagt nodded grimly. "Anyone one of you who can hold a gun, grab one. We'll protecr you, but once this ship is on collision course, we'll have to run like hell. Private Bondara," he addressed Sienn. "Contact the Emberdawn."
"These beasts are discordant," Shikoba remarked. "Destroying the sky-vessel will put their unharmonious echoes to rest, and free the slain."
"Purge them," was all Celaena had to say on the matter. If she doesn't make it, maybe Ashira will reward her, though she's human, she thought.
"Long as we all get off," Nuroch muttered.

Lorn and Melanie set to work. But as they did so and the group got ready to depart. But there were movements around them. At first it was very quiet. Zhaleh had been poking about the command centre. She was still in pain, and these beasts creeped her out. They reminded her too much of the monstrosities the Xioquo had used against her tribe - and of the ghost ship she had boarded with Elpsis not so long ago.

However, as she helped an injured crew member up, her sensitive elf ears picked up on noise. "Listen," she urged her comrades, and looked up to the ceiling. "They're in the shafts!" she declared in alarm. And suddenly Sithspawn burst into the room from above and the air was filled with weapons' fire, while the techs tried to keep their head done and complete their work.

 

[Auteme]

Aaran Tafo Okkeus Dainlei Kisaku Oroken Alina Tremiru Saket Keane Darth Strosius ​

When Kisaku arrived, Auteme's heart dropped. She should've known he'd come eventually -- he had a habit of protecting his master, and she didn't know a padawan in the New Jedi Order who wouldn't rise to the occasion if a Sith attacked them. She'd hoped her 'order' would've gotten him to stay put. No matter the trials he faced, his skill with a lightsaber, or whatever she might teach him, she couldn't stop worrying. When one of the Sith launched towards him, that worry spiked.

Not that she had enough time for it. Fire erupted and through it came one of the Sith. Auteme, lacking any formal combat training or weapons, was at a great disadvantage here. The tight corridors of the ship meant she didn't have many options when it came to running away. But what else could she do? Her mind was scattered, her stomach churned.

Some 'shield' she was. She didn't think she was worthy of the title. If she wasn't protecting everyone, only being a bastion from which others could attack, how could she call herself that?

She backpedaled as the Sith woman advanced, twisting her body enough that she dodged the worst of the attack. The lightsaber was turned away for only a moment by the fabric of her jumpsuit but soon cut through, singeing the skin underneath. The pain caused her to stumble and fall to the ground. She scrambled back to her feet and tried to put some distance between her and her assailant. Her mind was quiet, overwhelmed by adrenaline and danger and inklings of fear.

What could she do? What could she do that wouldn't cause more death, that would take her from that cycle? Her hands started to shake. She couldn't raise them to push the Sith away.

"Please stop!" she cried. With what focus she could muster she raised a barrier between her and the rest of them.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Okkeus Dainlei Auteme Kisaku Oroken

Darth Strosius Alina Tremiru Saket Keane

And so it came to this. As it always did. Pointless violence. There was little point arguing with Alisteri, the man was a fanatic. Aaran could have pointed out that if he genuinely wanted any of them dead. He would have simply killed Alina below the Academy. He could have quite simply made no effort to negotiate and avoid conflict, deciding to attack Saket on Gravlex. But he did not, he made the choice of mercy.

The fact that the Acolytes were entirely unwilling to stop for a moment and compare what they knew to be true and what they were taught was simple proof. They were not misguided; they were not being led astray. They wanted this. They looked at the universe and all the possible paths they could have chosen, and they decided on this one. Full of conflict, strife and hate that was not even their own.

There was no sadness in him. Simply disappointment. As Saket began to inhale the mixture of flammable gasses into his own lungs. Aaran let out a low weary exhale of his own. Turning to look at the Ubese. Through the mind meld, Kisaku would feel a motion of absolute trust and faith that the Padawan could handle Alisteri without falling prey to the artificial darkness inside of him. Letting the smaller swordsman handle the Sith as the Warden of Peace looked to the Wyrmling.

No more of his friends will be hurt. No more pain for them. Surging forward. He placed his own hand out. Calling the Force to his side. As the stream of flame emerged it was met with a barrier of his own. A wedge of power diverting the flames away from his allies and Alisteri behind him.

But just like on Gravlex. Physics was a harsh mistress. He could part the flames to grant his comrades safety. But at such close proximity, he would still be subjected to the heat. Heat of an even greater intensity than before. He could see it right in front of him, the flesh of his hand bubbling and crackling as the heat scorched it. The sleeve of his robe catching light and continuing to inflict further damage to his arm.

But despite the pain, he persevered. Rising above it, mastering it, not letting it distract him. Because he would hold the line, he would keep those he cared for safe. No matter what. Trusting Okkeus to handle Alina. He continued to hold up the barrier. Slowly attempting to push it forward in an attempt to overpower Saket and knock him back.

 

[Maple Harte]

Wearing: Shroud of Madness

Armed with: Survivor's Staff

Bolt Action Rifle

Objective: Reach Laertia

Maple moved silently across the ruined city. Some of the GA Forces had gone war-crazy (Like Maple was starting to fear Laertia had), refusing to give up even after being ordered to do so. And Laertia utterly refused to back down, either. She had teleported fething buildings at them. Their own damaged vehicles. And they still wouldn't budge.

The NIO were completely insane, and the GA had gone just as insane.

No way Maple was letting these feths reach the CIS borders. Skip. The NIO were revealed to be genetically engineered super squirrels in disguise. Skip. Not back to Hell.

The mentally ill Bounty Hunter, clad in her black and red Ooglith Armor, began hearing its whispers in her skull. It sounded like her own voice.

You look sad Lover Girl. C'mon. Let's go kill people.

"I don't recall being that Bloodthirsty." Maple whispered, as she made her way through streets, ducking GA Marines that had refused Adhira Chandra 's recall order. Feth...they might have to call in the Behemoth again.

Gods your cells feel so good. I'm yandere for you already

"Holy chit you are fethed up." Maple whispered, half wondering for a second if the Armor was actually talking to her or it was just her schizophrenia.

Maple checked the ammo on her bolt action. Ten rounds left. Tired. Scared.

She scrambled under rubble to evade the notice of an NIO assault shuttle flying overhead. She wasn't some one off supersoldier like Laertia, or some Android like Vera Mina. Maple, barring her astounding reflexes, aim, and speed, was purely human. The definition of a glass cannon...

With her, it depended on the weapon.

Maple unslung her bolt action sniper rifle as the shuttle swung around for another pass. She had loaded it with armor piercing rounds, depleted fissionable material for the bullet heads, a click swung its scope to the side of the rifle, where she covered the scope to reduce the chance of glare as she aimed at the frontal viewport of the shuttle, controlling her breathing to reduce tremble. Her superior eyesight let her spot the trooper's head. She didn't use the Force to guide her shot. This was pure Keanu, what she was doing.

She used the sound of nearby artillery fire to mask the sound of her rifle firing. The bulllet went right through the port on the pilot's side, and into his neck, killing him instantly. Maple crawled from cover as the shuttle crashed, but didn't explode. She began moving as fast as she could to it. Others would. She had to work fast.

That was a sexy shot, Uri the armor whispered.

"Of all the chit my Writer managed to get approved it had to be the one submission that makes me a fething diet Eddie Brock..." Maple remarked bitterly, her insanity allowing her to make an OOC reference.

I wuv yooz The armor teased.

Maple got to the shuttle, spotting a dead passenger in the main cabin, injured heavily before hand. She started to dive in, but heard sounds. She wheeled around, spotting the surviving members of a GA Platoon that had come to investigate the crash. They had spotted her.

"SNIPER! SHOOT HER!" One yelled as he opened fire.

Maple dived sideways, taking aim with superior reflexes and shooting the grenade on his belt as she dodged blaster fire.

The blast killed him, and one other soldier, knocking everyone else down.

Maple sprang back up, the rifle having been flung out of her hand by the blast, her saberstaff, whose hilt was the size of a regular, single bladed Lightsaber flying to her hand as a viridian set of blades flew out from both ends and she began flipping, spinning, and twirling in a confusing, drunken manner as she made her way towards each, evading most of their projectiles with a maddening, nigh demonic alacrity, and deflecting what she couldn't back into the faces of her shooters.

She cut through weapons and limbs, spinning blade gashing through armor joints. Maple no longer bothered going center mass anymore with modern armor. Always go for the obvious weakness.

She felt sick as she cut down GA Marines. She was definitely in the same boat now as Laertia. They'd be gunning for her now.

Maple's blazing offense and defense beheaded the last of the Marines, and she wanted to vomit at what she had done. She had been just a Bounty-Hunter. Now she was caught in Laertia's war with the GA and the NIO. But, she had seen it for herself: They'll never stop at just the Sith, Neither one of them will if they win. They'll just start licking their chops at CIS territory. Never mind the fact there are active Light Siders there. Ryv Karis had said it himself. They were that crazy.

Feth 'em.

Maple went to check her rifle, but found a piece of shrapnel from the grenade blast had completely penetrated the firing chamber. It was useless.

Maple began scavenging the shuttle. There had to be something...

But the shuttle had been wrecked barely escaping the Bombardment of The Behemoth. Anything useful was already gone. The only thing left functioning was the weapons and engines when Maple had vrought it down. She began quickly scavenging elsewhere in the burned, destroyed, turbolasered street.

Maple stopped at the bodies of Sith Legionnaires, looking at the sweet loot on the corpses...

(Zelda Acquisition Theme Plays)

(Maple has acquired Sith Weaponry!)

Weapon: IL-25X SNIPER RIFLE

Spoiler

A Lethal, State-Of-The-Badass-Art Silenced Blaster Sniper Rifle from the Sith Military

Weapon: ETERNAL SILENCE

Spoiler

A Siezed Trophy Weapon from the fall of the short lived Eternal Empire of Kay Arenais, developed by The Amalgam

Maple leaned down and picked up a sweet piece of Sith hardware. She had heard of these. IL-25X Rifle. Heavy, slow fire rate, but silenced, invisible lasers were difficult to argue with.

It felt blasphemous to admit, even in private, but Maple had always felt Sith weaponry to be vastly more effective.

The second one...wait...

Maple stopped, looking over the Carbine.

This technology...this design...

It was based off stuff she had used in The Marksmen. In fact...she had seen Ursula use carbines she had customized in just such a manner.

Maple grimaced, realizing it was a product of The Amalgam's hands. She took it anyway, knowing how it could best be used probably better than its original owner had, and began making headway to where she felt Laertia fighting.

The carbine was compact and deadly. Troublingly, Maple felt an intense nostalgia creep over her as she tested it out on a lone unit of NIO Stormtroopers trying to get their way to Noel Strasza using its ricochet function to silently nail them in the helmet with banked shots off debris surface, downing them all cleanly.

This is a sexy gun. We should marry it and have its children! The Armor hissed in her head with her voice.

"Do you even know how humans copulate?" Maple asked irritably of what she was wearing.

No

"Fething discount Symbiote Expies..." Maple grumbled as she moved quickly through the landscape.

I wuv yooz it teased again.

Maple finally came across "Friendlies" for lack of a better term. Sith Legionnaires were busy fixing a tank to get it operational. She waved them down with a whistle as they pointed their weapons at her.

"Wait! She's with the Black Knight!" one of them said.

Maple approached, hands still up.

"Busy day, huh?" Maple asked.

"No kidding." The head Legionnaire snapped. "Tell your friend to stop teleporting junk and buildings above the city when you get the chance. A bit of her makeshift ordinance hit and killed some of our own!"

"Laertia doesn't take orders from me..." Maple replied uneasily, lowering her hands.

"Doesn't seem to take orders from anyone." The Soldier grumbled. "Killed a bunch of my friends at Atrisia with a chainsaw."

"Yeah...that sounds like Laertia..." Maple muttered. "She always did have a bad habit of listening to her inner Frank Castle."

"Who the feth is Frank Castle?" The Legionnaire asked in confusion.

"OOC knowledge, not fit for the minds of the Sane." Maple answered dismissively walking up to the tank. "What's this?"

"This..." The Legionnaire said proudly walking up to the tank with her. "Is Martha..."

"WHY DID YOU SAY THAT NAME?!" Maple shouted compulsively to get the Ben Affleck reference out of her system while she still could, startling all the soldiers.

"So the rumors are true. You really are a few kybers short of a Lightsaber..." one said.

"You should let me use it." Maple said.

"That's a great idea! What could 'possibly' go wrong!?" The head Legionnaire asked, bleeding sarcasm with every word.

"Your tank is sweet. And I'm crazy accurate with guns, like Keanu." Maple replied bluntly.

"Even tank guns?" He asked.

Maple, to prove it, quickly shooed off a Legionnaire doing final repairs off the top of the tank, sighted an NIO bomber flanked by multiple fighters streaking around in the distance, got in the tank, and activated the main gun.

"Sir! We've been spotted!" One of the Legionnaires yelled as the Bomber and fighter escort began to close in. They had maybe fifteen seconds before it would be in range.

"No." Maple said coldly, aiming the main gun. "They haven't spotted us. I've spotted them..."

She angled it, and fired.

The Bomber burst into flames, exploding and Maple fired another three shots, taking its escort out.

She climbed out of the cockpit.

"Shall we?" She asked.

The Legionnaires chuckled and began climbing into the tank, so that a rip and tear rampage to Laertia through NIO lines might begin.

(Character Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "GoldenEye" by Tina Turner)

The tank, a SI-CAT, began smoothly moving forward, Maple going faster in it as she began plowing through barracades, and NIO soldiers fighting alongside GA Marines. Not normally good against Anti-Air, with Maple piloting and manning the gun it was practically a giant mobile sniper rifle, and she sent a few more NIO Starfighters plunging to the ground with incredibly precise shots, the tank sustaining heavy fire but Maple would just aggressively ram into any soldier in her way, firing the side guns and rockets.

"Don't worry, Izabella Scorupco! I'll save you and your hot schoolteacher looks from Ned Stark!" Maple proclaimed, rampaging through enemy lines and shooting down attacking starfighters.

"BOW BEFORE THE MIGHT OF BROSNAN!" she yelled.

One Legionnaire looked at another in the tank and made a screwball gesture with his finger. The other Legionnaires snickered in the back...

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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 Dagoth | 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.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

"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.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One couldn't help but wonder why these durasteel shelters weren't crowded. Empty shells denied their usefulness by order of Sith Eternalism. Though, it wasn't as if there were many still living or planetside to make use of them anyway. The bland, featureless housing around them shook with every note in the bombardment meeting Ziost's surface.

It evoked anxiety for those beyond. If it was half as rough as it felt, there's no telling who was still kicking. Part of him wanted to turn, run into the rain of hell to do what he could. It would likely be his death, but the sense of duty still nagged the back of his mind nevertheless. Instead, he was stuck here in the bowels of a Sith Academy, in an empty durasteel box struggling to hold fast against the chaos above.

Empty, aside from her. Whether that was comforting or immensely disconcerting, he couldn't yet place. Somehow he figured the prospect of killing him wasn't entirely off the table for her. He was already here, risking neck and going pseudo-AWOL, and for what? To reaffirm that someone still had good in them just to inevitably fail on a solution again? To get to the bottom of what happened in an escape pod lost in space?

It was beyond frustrating, as internal uncertainties often were. Eternal recurrence had struck again, leaving the two of them more or less trapped in yet another non-ideal space. This time, it was arguably his fault, given that he shouldn't have even been here in the first place. Dust absconded from the walls with another tremor, forcing wisps of particles to dance around the stagnant shelter.

Knowing that he'd topple over eventually with Ziost's constant quaking, he shambled his way to a seat. Every moment anticipated accostation from the earpiece, but none came. How bad was it out there, really? The disturbance in the force that loss of life begets didn't feel any worse than usual, but surely that couldn't be right? Eyes drifted to the ceiling, wandering around like searching for something on the featureless steel.

The rumbling of tremors and long-muffled remnants of explosion soundwaves were but white noise for several minutes. "Bhesj! Are they trying to glass the place or what?" He made a face as a particularly jarring convulsion of the surface vibrated the chamber like a botched hyperspace emergence. Indistinct cursing in his alien tongue followed with a wince. It could have been worse, he could be topside right now. Instead, he'd defied instruction to follow the lead of that infatuating agitating thread. The phantasmal lead attached as a side effect of dual efforts for survival.

"So, uh-" A sudden boom and quaver forced him to pause, gritting his teeth with a hiss as he held on until it subsided, keeping words on the tip of his tongue. "I dunno, chit, are you good? You were-" he suddenly exclaimed a sound of displeasure. "Valle ke'dem, yeah, that's probably a stupid question, isn't it?" His head leaned down and turned into his fingers, floating above his elbow's perch on the armrest. Audible scratching of nails on scalp echoed curiously. "It's probably not as bad as you think it is, though. What you said earlier? About people wanting you alive? It's easy to feel that way, I know better than anyone probably, but it's never as bad as you think."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia's features contorted in dry bitterness. "Easy for you to say, your side is winning."

She avoided the question about her emotional state, heat hitting her cheeks. That wasn't meant for him to see. That wasn't meant for anyone to see-- it was a weakness. She could hear her Master's voice in her ear. Caring was only going to get in the way of her progress. She could see the countless ways it had weakened her over the battles. She felt the cracks it was driving into her mind. War was not a place for empathy. Her conscious was going to get her killed.

Jend-Ro Quill 's talisman had left its mark on the sithling. In more ways than she understood.

She slid into the metal bench across from him, a small ball of fire providing light and faint warmth as they waited out the bombing in the depths of the fallen Academy.

"The only way this ends is if one side is eradicated," she stated, letting the emotions bleed from her voice. She stared blankly at the flames, the colors dancing across her vision.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Sure doesn't sound like it." As if on queue, another undulous rumble shook the shelter. His eyes turned upward just in time to follow a wisp of soil leaing from the ceiling and scattering onto the ground. "But I know what you meant," he continued. In the grand scheme of things, it had been hard to tell. The fact that they were right back to Ziost was contrary to her sentiment. "Maybe," he affirmed toward how easy it may have been to voice such assurances. It was true that from his position, that likely everything was easier, but that changed nothing. "It's still true, either way. Even if it really doesn't feel like it."

Am I really giving a Sith words of encouragement right now? Sapphire regard drifted from the fire, to his feet, to the aimless black around them. More than a little awkward, more than a little turbulent, and figuring out what to look at had somehow become a challenge in this atmosphere. In his drifting, a glimpse of her flame-illuminated features drew his own toward the fire at her lead. It was unsetting to look at, but somehow it held his attention with fluttering hypnotism.




"Yeah," he replied with soft vacancy. "Seems that way sometimes." A quick tug released the restraint on his hair. Violent strands fell loose as he let his head slump back and create and audible thud against the wall. "Annihilation sure is exhausting," he quipped with parched, wry humor. "Sometimes I just want to quit. It's like nothing I do makes a difference, for any cause."

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia's chest grew tight as the Academy walls rumbled. "Tell me about it," she breathed. Thoughts swirled behind her eyes, full of that pain he had so rudely snooped in on. He would be able to feel the mulling. She could feel his own emptiness; it was all that more pronounced down in the depths of the bunk.

"Everything I did here-- the risks I took. The people I betrayed. I can't tell if getting those acolytes out had any positive affect. Most of them are probably back here now. They're probably dead. I can't help but to think maybe we could have done more if we had stayed."

Her thoughts flickered to the strange jedi that had led her out, and to the youngest, whom she had... she had let escape. It all had felt so large back then-- like she had moved mountains. But then world rattled around her and she remembered where she was.

"Probably not," she concluded, the feeble emotion draining back out into an empty tone.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One eye peeked out from the backward angle and veil of violet that hung over his face. The flickering glare of flame cast a warm sheen over it, accentuating the pointed gaze. It lingered, giving the impression that he was on the verge of saying something. However, as moments began to pass, each betrayed that notion. Finally, a slow, sluggish raise of his shoulders preceded an unceremonious droop. Who knows, or, oh well, it must have said.

Probably not, was what it had really meant. Lacksidasical agreement not begetting effort. Not as if outward affirmation was what she wanted to hear in that regard, anyway. At least not where futilities were concerned, regardless of how realistic it was. Even if one should be expected to be realistic about these things, at some point, input wasn't helping anymore.

The bombardment punched into Ziost again, forcing the chamber to murmur yet again. More dust and soil shook loose, falling in a grainy stream. It rolled off a phantasmal shield in front of Zaavik's face before scattering through the bench grating beneath him. Not wanting a surprise face full of grime, he sat back up. Gazes met, and Zaavik pursed his lips and made an uncomfortable, empathetic face. He turned a cheek to look at the hardly illuminated floor.

One would think being trapped in a confined space with someone for a second time would be easier than the first. It wasn't. Far less turbulent, but that tension was replaced with something gray, somber, nebulous. A sullen pair seeking solace in either the other, or resolution. How do you talk to a Sith? Do you pretend that either of you hasn't been inches away from putting the other in the ground in the past? Maybe it was hypocritical, seeing that directly or otherwise, Zaavik was responsible for as many bodies as a Coruscant cemetery.

Maybe thinking he was any better was just an illusion of righteousness.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia looked away in sync with him, her metal bench squeaking as she shifted uncomfortably.

Her thoughts drifted to the escape pod they had survived together. Everything about this moment was different, and yet everything felt distinctly similar. The darkness felt like a suffocating hug. The metal walls were the only thing between them and death. Circumstance had forced them to work together before. Now they were... what?

Sticking it to the man?

It felt strangely liberating. Even moreso, to watch him do the same. She was painfully aware of every mark they had left on each other. His back, her shoulder, his arm, her side. Through a long list of encounters, they had every reason to expect death by each others hands. Each moment was a tantalizing threat that she dived into.

In some ways, it was a game.

Who would prove the other right and pull the trigger first? Well it wouldn't be her. She picked at a scab at her wrist, dusts raining down over the unwavering flame.

"Who do you think will win this one?"

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"Does it matter?" he shot back. A rhetorical, counter-inquiry bordering on reprimand. Shoulders slanted as he turned from the floor to acknowledge. "You're a traitor by your own admission, and knowing my luck I'm gonna be court-martialed the moment I'm off this rock." Better or worse, they'd both brought it on themselves, hadn't they? Decisions made in defiance of consequence. "So, the way I see it, we've both run out of stake in it." A sharp, vexed shrug punctuated his words.

Intensity suddenly faded from his face and released a pent-up breath laden with crestfallen acceptance. Conceding to her inquiry after having just attempted to dismiss it, he continued: "I guess my money's on whoever is trying to grind the planet to dust. It's either scorched earth or annihilation, and neither is exactly in the Alliance's MO, so that probably narrows it down." His eyebrows raised for emphasis, eyes retaining contact for longer than usual before wandering.

"I guess it could be worse," he mused. "You could be trying to kill me right now. The shelter could be collapsing. I could have been vaporized if I hadn't of pissed off to find you. Lucky day, huh?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia's features soured to his hostile tone, an eye roll following his pointed sass.

"You're welcome."

She didn't know why she had expected a normal conversation from him. They had rarely spent a moment not trying to harm one and other, and the one time he had tried to befriend her she had laid open back.

Good riddance too, she hoped it still hurt him.

She crossed her arms over her front and glowered at him. The tear paths had long since dried up, the pain that had undone her felt like a distant concern. There were more questions that needed answering, like what would happened next, but she wasn't in the mood for more of his sharpness. He reminded her so much of her peers, she wondered what was really different about jedi and sith after all.

The fire between them grew bigger, casting shadows from below as she left him with heavy silence.

Such a douche.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Like a reflection, Zaavik rolled his eyes as well. "Yeah, yeah-" he dismissed sulkily. Elbow on his knee, his chin dropped into palm, fingers clawed over the lower half of his face. The attitude was to be expected, he supposed. Even though she asked. Any scornful remarks were internalized into incorporeal echoes on his tongue, not allowed to articulate aloud

The earpiece suddenly crackled with static before coming to life.




Zaavik shot to his feet halfway through the message. Staring into nothing with an attentive look, it was clear he was listening to something that she couldn't hear. "You've gotta be kidding me-" he uttered to himself aloud, which almost certainly unintentional from the sound of it. He patted around his hips awkwardly as if checking for everything, lightsaber included, and started quickly toward the exit, flight response seizing the wheel.

Steps stifled less than a yard later as he ran up against several realizations like a brick wall. Jumping on an evac vessel would raise suspicions, as they had designated him MIA. A court-martial waiting to happen, possibly worse. He'd have to find his own way out. That and- Zaavik suddenly became hyperaware of his surroundings, along with the burning sensation Aradia's eyes left on the back of his head.

Slowly, his head turned to look at her from over his shoulder. Urgency and apologetic guilt singing tortured volumes from azure spheres. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he couldn't just leave her there in the dark without- offering something. Advice, an update, anything. She'd shown him the way down here, it'd be cruel not to return the favor in some way. Wouldn't it?

An exhale resonated as he turned, facing up to her. "They're calling an evac. Guess we got our answer." Good thing they hadn't made a bet. "-But, you should take this chance to get off-world- uh- somehow. We can't stay in here anymore regardless. This place is gonna be mineral paste in no time. Come on."

If she had objections, he wasn't sticking around to heed them.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia's spine was ridged, hot sparks shooting across her nerve endings as she watched him abruptly leave. The fire was out, replaced by a saber that buzzed warmly in her hand.

She wasn't privy to what had him react in such a panic, but in that short timeframe she had made herself ready. Her eyes widened at his words. Of all the things she could fight back, an orbital bombardment was not one.

She wasn't that good.

Yet.

She kicked up after him without hesitation. Even if she had reason to mistrust him, the constant rattle of the building was enough weight to his words.

"Really? Just like that? You're going to go back with them?" She hissed, chasing at his heels. Red lights whipped across the dark hall, her arms pumping with every quick step. "They caused this. You go back, they're just gonna make you do it again."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

No response came until they'd emerged into what was left of the academy. Somehow it had become dilapidated further, diminished by indiscriminate orbital fire. "No, not 'just like that'," he argued. He spun on his heels just before the exit into the open, hostile air. "After this-" he made a vage gesture pointing between them and widely to their surroundings, "I can't just jump on an evac. Hiding in the dark with you weren't exactly my orders if you hadn't guessed."

Supercondensed tibanna hammering into the ground suddenly reminded him with a thunderous declaration that they didn't have time to stand around. The door fell to the ground with a metallic thud as he pushed on it, kicking up dust on impact. "But yeah, eventually I gotta go back. I don't have anywhere else to go, it's not as simple as leaving," he continued as they moved forward. Explaining himself beyond the minimum wasn't something the clock would allow.

Ziost's landscape was almost unrecognizable from what it had been previously. Not that it was in particularly good shape to begin with. He looked over his shoulder, near strafing to face her without stopping. Movement was life when you could be vaporized at any moment. "What about you? Where's a traitor to go? You even got a way off-world?"

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Aradia pulled a face, stopping short before the hidden port of her ship. Rubble did a good job of masking the sleek metal. A mindless nudge of the force opened it.

"Well they don't know!" Great. Maybe she shouldn't have told a jedi she was a traitor. Even if he had proven more friend than foe, there were some secrets that were more dangerous than they were worth. It had just been a weight on her chest, one that she now questioned as she stared at the jedi who tossed it so easily about. Her gut churned.

Today's vulnerability would cost her. If not now, then soon. She could feel it.

"We could just not go back," she uttered, her voice tight. "Like they'll notice. They're too busy blowing up each each other, they ignore the real enemy." Was that acknowledgement for their past? Or a prediction for the future?

Perhaps it was both, but he would know the enemy she spoke of. There was only one thing they agreed upon in this whole galaxy. A ship fell from above, the roar deafening. She ducked on instinct, covering her head. At that same moment, the force screamed.

Death was on the horizon.

The ground shook, the air turning hot. "Come with me!" She screamed over the noise. A scarred hand extended his way.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

"And then go where? It's not that s-" A pang of danger. The thunder of a descending ship filled the air. It stabbed downward, intent to smite any who lingered beneath. He ducked, putting an outstretched hand over his head, shielding it with a force-manifested barrier. Rubble, dust, and shrapnel danced maliciously through the air in a vortex of carnage.

Every muscle in his face contorted, squint and grimace as the grime burned into his eyes. A vague feeling of resistance seized his hand as piece after piece of shrapnel stopped against his barrier. Another slammed hard against the barrier, toppling him over and forcing the required focus to break. Hand flat against the floor he forced himself up to a knee, still diminished and turtled inward in an effort of self-protection.




Eyes watering from dust, he pointed his chin up toward the hand. He hesitated, rightfully so. Did he really have time for reservations? The force discerned no malice in her intentions. Ge couldn't help but second guess it. Another explosion in the air killed his hesitation. Begrudgingly, he took her hand, not having the time to reel from the union.

His hesitation nearly cost him.

There might have been life debt owed but it would never come at the cost of Aradia's own. The roar overhead reached her bones. Everything rattled-- the ground, her teeth, her arm as he took the hand.

She yanked hard, pulling him onto the mouth of her ship. She screamed 'hold on', but it was lost to the din as the ship's mouth pried open. He would recognize the insides. He had laid open her shoulder in it all those months ago. The engine had already kicked up, rubble falling away as they were tossed like rocks inside of it. She fell hard and scattered, the force's warning growing more pressing. She would have told him to grab onto something, but in the entryway there was nothing. Gravity shoved them down as the ship shot to the sky. The droid could see what they could not. With precise calculations, it banked right and shot up, taking them away from it all and into deep space. The bruises were better than annihilation.

Aradia's laid pressed into the ground, a jedi trapped at her side as they fled the senseless realty of their warring orders. She stared in numb shock up at the silver span of her ceiling, the sound of his existence filling up the space.

They were gonna have some explaining to do.

That was, if they ever got caught.

 

[Seela Leini]

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

2121 panicked, the X-Wing moving in on her tail immediately registering in her awareness as she worked to turn her machine in the bandit’s direction. In doing so, the Twi’lek braced herself for more fire, knowing that the enemy pilot would, for a fleeting moment, have a clear shot on her machine.

It never came.

The Twi’lek could not have possibly been aware of the Jedi pilot’s faint, but she nevertheless seized the initiative, as any competent pilot was wont to do in a close range, high intensity turning battle where only a split second lapse could mean certain death. All she had to do was continue driving her interceptor in a turn, maintaining the power flow to engines even as her shields failed. It was exactly what she did, following the X-Wing even as it jerked into a dive. However, the Twi’lek also utilized her machine’s etheric rudders to manually shift her chin in the direction of the bandit, thereby allowing her to get a viable shot earlier than she would have otherwise.

Via the intimate neural connection she sustained with her machine, 2121 acted with seemingly instantaneous alacrity as her chin was lined up slightly ahead of the X-Wing’s fuselage, casting a salvo of five coruscating magenta beams into the void, aimed from behind, above, and to the right of the bandit, in a bid to blast into the enemy into atoms across the void...

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

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
PRESERVATION OF ORDER
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

THIRD EYE
​

Rurik repulsed the Sith farther down the corridor and in an equally brutal retort, The Shaper willed a dark power to his hands. Violet, jagged streams of lightning sourced from his form and into the Man of Iron. The metal skin clasped around his tortured form bore the brunt of the dark fury. The pain struck through his strained nervous system, already tamed beneath his disciplined hold of the Force, inlaid in his mortal shell by the gaze of the Twilight, inflicted unto him by The Devil, Kascalion Giedfield . The Lightning enclosed around the entirety of his false, iron visage. That which made him Executor, Man of Iron and protected the scarred, wounded, mortal man beneath.

He withheld the verbal exclamation of agony deep down, further immortalizing the mantra he compounded into his mind time and time again.

Pain is an illusion.

He regained the control he'd had over it. Even as the lightning phased through the conductive metal skin and burrowed into his flesh, firing the image of the skeleton beneath to the surface from the energetic fury. He collapsed down unto one knee for a moment. Focusing on the pace of his strained and thrumming heart, the choking breath, ode to the defiance he continued to intake and expel in these vital moments.

He would endure.

As Kainan continued the assault, Rurik channeled the Force once more into his hand, concentrating a pull of energy around his closed hand, diverting his focus enough to open himself up to another strike as he split his concentration in the Force between gathering this miasma of power and hampering the pain that seared his body.

Then, he pressed forward again toward The Shaper, hoping to close the distance of his runed weapon before slamming the hand surrounded in the Force forward toward his chest to slam him back toward the nearest viewport. If not to defenestrate him from Alliance One, to knock him from his balance once more and continue the advantage.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Aerarii Tithe | Kainan | Areyon | Fisk Kamer
ENEMIES | TSE | Arctus Silmar | Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Shamira Karuto | Rika Hiro | (Closed)​

Blood and fluids pounded in her ears as she took another slow backward step. In her chest the artificial heart thudded at an increasing pace, any cold resolve she'd tried to conjure not even having time to form as flames of panic spread in her mind. Fear. For the first time in years the feeling seized her, warping her behavior from unwavering combatant and will of iron to someone...terrified.

Her jaw clenched, the final screams of the legionnaire muffled by a blanket of expectation. Its voice was heard yet the form unseen, the white smoke barring light from the building's entrance. There wasn't a long wait as the thing came forward to meet Cara in the open. Cara's breath caught as the thing spoke, the question it gave pulling a shard of fight response back into her mind. The rifle of her arm unfolded then was leveled with hasty aim, an obvious tremble to the action as her legs fought to whether stand or flee.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Cara's voice threatened to leave before she forced the rest of her sentence. "Conclude the answer to be 'neither,' you..." as she took another step away her eyes narrowed, "...forgery." It was a weak show of resistance but the limit to what the engineer could provide. Ways to escape the encounter muddled in her mind, none being a clear--nor effective--plan. Chances of her meeting an end were unmistakable and, possibly, unavoidable. The grip of her left hand atop her right arm's rifle tightened.

It was a familiar sensation, an impression of being near a forest with the touch of a warm evening breeze. It was benevolent yet melancholy; A smear of charcoal on a fresh leaf. Cara felt it and her blood went cold. She shot a glance to where the feeling came.

Shamira.

Her expression was one of awe and confusion but she then realized--she'd stared for too long.

"No--!" Cara's head snapped back to Asa and she drove a few steps around to try and put some of herself between the HRD and the girl. The mechanics of her arms tensed, newfound resolve pumping through her system. "You and I have some unfinished business."

 

[Kaska Arden]

Y O UㅤJ U S T I F YㅤT H O S EㅤW H OㅤD I E D
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 (?) | Michael Sardun (?)

E N E M I E SㅤT S E
Chasianna

​

A crimson offering splattered against her visor as her blade carved a bloody wake with it's passing. While a true Jedi didn't take pleasure in causing another being suffering, there was an ephemeral flicker of satisfaction in the Nyriaanan's presence as she brought up her other hand. Scorched and blackened, still clutching the smoldering casing of her lightsaber with a death-like grip, it served more as a simple point of focus than a weapon itself. Telekinesis in many ways was her crutch - one she had learnt to adapt in many diverse and often seemingly outlandish ways to cover her limitations. This time it was delivered it's most basic, raw form; Force Push.

A tightly packed blast of invisible, psychokinetic energy designed to crash into the very wound she just opened, aiming to split it open further even as it threw the her opponent backwards away from the inner workings of the core.

The move came at a price, however. Her guard momentarily dropping, there was an equivalent exchange. The attack crossing paths with the Sith's own a split second later - her's fueled by the esoteric mysteries of the galaxy, her opponent's by the technological advances of the material, yet both with a similar aim and design in purpose.

Her breastplate and the shock absorption layer beneath took the brunt of the attack, but it did little to stop the rush of breath that detonated out of her lungs. Nor could it stop her feet from leaving the cracked and crumpled deck plating as she was flung bodily backwards, not even having time to register surprise before she was crashing into the form of Dagon behind her. Both of them tumbling deeper into the inner workings of the core they had sought to protect.

Her world went white for a moment.

The strength of her connection with Sardun fluctuating; her limbs and body suddenly feeling the full weight of her own exhaustion without his help to carry the burden she had placed upon it. Replaced in kind by another heavy, herculean task in the form of a seemingly simple demand.

If he steps out of this room alive, you are responsible for any future acts of his.

He has proven himself weak once.

What will you do if he fails again and innocents get hurt in the progress?

We will not always be there with him to stop him.​

Her blood ran cold even as she was brought back to reality, head lazily jerking up as she tried to regain her bearings. Her armored form pressed against that of Dagon in an undignified heap. Dagon, her friend, someone until just a few minutes ago she had believed was beyond reproach...

... Now...

The blade in her hand shifted. Was Sardun right? No Jedi was an unassailable bastion, but it had seemingly taken very little for the Dark Side to breach his defenses. The weakness he had displayed, the bottomless darkness that waited within the deepest recesses of his character, was that merely a sign of what was to come?

Her hand tightened, much like it had with her saber, so hard it started to tremble. Knuckles going corpse white at the pressure exerted as the blade began to snake upwards. From her position here, it would be easy. One quick, clean thrust just below the ribs. He probably wouldn't even feel it. A sin today, to spare tomorrow; a mercy for both Dagon and the Galaxy. It would be the just thing to do, no?

She closed her eyes and let out a ragged, painful breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

Then she rolled off the Dagon.

"Wake up, Padawan." Kaska's voice sounded hollow as she addressed him as Padawan, not Kaze, not Dagon. A wall of formality sliding into place to shield her from their friendship and the temptation she had just barely overcome. She had left Sardun for a reason; the blindness to the shadow his light cast was not one she would step into again, at least not willingly. If Dagon succumbed to the Dark, she would deal with it then and only then. For now they had different fish to fry.

With the dwindling reserves she had, she staggered to her feet.

"We've got a Core to save."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

TEMPLE ENGINEERING CORE, THE PROSPERITY
NEW JEDI ORDER
ENGAGING: Chasianna
THE IDOL

Blood splattered the durasteel floor from the dagger's grievous slash before Kaska's form lunged flying at him. Dagon's eyes widened but was ultimately caught by surprise. She crashed into him further exacerbating the broken chest bones and knocking the wind out of his lungs. All he could manage was an instinctive embrace and cushion her landing as they came tumbling away from the galvanized area. Everything went black the moment they landed.

Dagon nearly welcomed it. The relinquishment of reality felt like the most tempting embrace.

A much-needed respite.

Kaska's shifting movements yanked him back to the tormented present.

The flickering connection to the Force unwillingly allowed him to grasp the Knight's inner turmoil. A conflict directly related to him; one not hard to deduct the reason of.

Dagon's aching eyes lingered on her as she rolled off him. A thousand words left unsaid. The intensity of his pain and exhaustion turning his mind and body numb.

"Wake up, Padawan." Kaska's empty voice almost muffled from the chiming in his ears. Only her emphasis on his title rather than his name ringing loudly. A bitter taste forming in his mouth.

"We've got a Core to save."

Save? Look where that got me. The fledgling thought dissipating as soon as it arrived.

For a long moment, Dagon remained to lie on the ground. The cold, hard floor turning into a soft mattress he preferred to never leave. Releasing a deep and painful exhale, the padawan reluctantly stood up. His feet like knots, the bloodied Jedi barely found his balance as the world around him spun determined to throw him off the ride. Wearily he wiped the blood off his lips, stared at his sanguine palm for a minute, then tilted his head at Kaska. His own blood smeared across her armor.

He barely managed a half-lopsided smirk, more sorrow in its implication than anything else, "Business... as usual."

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

 

[Leon Gallo]

Voice Of The Soul
Saber Seven
Shields at 0%
Stealth Active
Sensors Scrambled
Pilot Unconscious
Lower Right Wing Destroyed Upper Left Cannons Destroyed
Siloh Riain Seela Leini

A Jedi was drowning. Not quite literally, but mentally. He’d lost all energy to resist the current, and he was being dragged deeper and deeper. He’d used the dead, and now they were claiming him. The amorphous figures surrounding him in the bone-cold water were slowly gaining more solidity. They grabbed him, pulling him along. Stormtroopers. Alliance soldiers. Civilians. Leon still felt their anger, but now their despair was overwhelming. Leon realized just how they’d felt in their final moment, as they knew resistance was futile. The Jedi nearly gave in.


But something in that desperation gave him strength. Though he didn’t know his body was in just as much danger as his mind, he knew he was being pulled to the precipice. He couldn’t just give up yet. He needed to try one last time. Using all the rage and anger in him, and that final, desperate fear of Oblivion, he swam directly upwards, and broke the surface. He launched himself from the water, praying to escape.

Alarms blared in Saber Seven’s cockpit. He became aware of it, though he still felt the presence of the river. Magenta bolts of plasma flared past his canopy. A glance at his shields showed he’d lost the last of them. The ship rocked as a shot destroyed the cannons at the tip of his upper-left wing. Another shot knocked out his lower right wing entirely.

Leon jerked hard at the controls, fighting both to stay in control of the ship and to stay conscious. The X-wing banked hard to the right, then again upwards into a loop. As the River began to reclaim his mind, Leon hit the activation for the ship’s stealth systems.

Had he been thinking rationally, he’d have remembered that his foe had systems to counter stealth. He might’ve dropped a shadow bomb to try and destroy his pursuer. He might’ve enabled his stealth systems anyways to try and gain a few more seconds, or gambled on the damage he’d caused earlier knocking out their sensors. But Leon had made this move out of desperation. And again, he passed out, pressing the controls into another dive.

Again, the Fool plunged into the frigid current. He tried to close his eyes, but even with them closed he could still see the river and the spirits within. He’d tried, and failed to escape the fate he'd wrought upon him. The Fool who’d left the Jedi once before. The Fool who fought Sith Lords and monsters, and failed. The Fool who thought he could control the Dead. Now the Dead claimed him.


But someone else intervened. Leon heard her voice, breaking through the screams. Her light and hope battled back the darkness and despair. When the other Jedi’s hand, the hand of one who’d faced the trials, appeared in Leon’s vision, he reached to take it. When he grasped his saviour’s hand, Leon’s vision again went black.

He woke, laying on a grassy field. The river flowed nearby, but he was out of it. The Padawan forced himself to sit up, looking around. He swore he could see a village of wooden houses across the river, but he couldn’t focus on it. The buildings shifted, fading and reappearing seemingly at random. Leon blinked and looked away.


The Jedi who’d saved him was next to him, but she was similarly difficult to focus on. All he could truly distinguish was her jumpsuit and copper hair. Leon tried to speak, to thank her, but no sound came out of his mouth. The landscape itself was beginning to fade, and a buzzing filled Leon’s ears. He closed his eyes, and darkness overtook him. Not the smothering haze of the Darkside, but the comforting fog of sleep.

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Temple Engineering Core, Prosperity
Allies: TSE ( Vaylin )
Enemies: GA ( Kaska Arden Dagon Kaze Michael Sardun ) │ NIO

Her pointed ears rang in reaction to the concussive boom of her repulsive blast meeting the Jedi’s Push, throwing the tiny electromancer back a few feet towards the exit and briefly disrupting her focus. All the while, the stalwart advance of the incoming security squad registered in her Sense, but yet even when they were so close and blood spilled from her wound, the Sister was undeterred in her mission.

Kill the Jedi.

Bacta did little to stem the flow of her life’s essence, now dripping freely from her slashed midsection as she quickly picked herself up from the ground. However, physical weakness did not dampen her hold over the Force, for she had energy yet still unreleased and primed to be harnessed as pain assailed her senses. All the while, ur-Kittât, esoteric, yet untamed, spilled from her lips, acting both as a focus and a prayer to her Dark Master.

Her voice, though high-pitched and weak, heralded the galvanic manifestations that emanated from her fingers. However, the Sister’s electrical fury was not intended to meet the forms of the two Jedi in a direct fashion. Instead, as she spoke, Lightning was cast out to each of her sides, channeled through the overloaded circuits as she seized control of the electrical current within the room, amplified by her own energy to disrupt the circuit breakers via brute force. In doing so, the electromancer directed the electrical current in reverse within and without the conduits, back towards the inner workings of the power core where the two Jedi were located, roughly fourteen meters from her own position.

As the smell of ozone permeated throughout the room, the core would erupt into flames, then immediately explode with no further warning.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST XIII
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor Noel Strasza
Fisk Kamer DT-0800 A.I.M
Djorn Bline Rika Hiro
Tiberius Julian Qar Arcturus Tal
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Maynard Treicolt
Kal Ostan Zirell Marxon Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka
Kinoan Asmundr Varobalder Aelys Allyson Locke

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf Sith Dominance
The Amalgam Laertia Io Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore | Mylesy's Trusty Fairbairn

A BARRAN WASTELAND - A Stormchaser's Sword 4 (Songs of Steel and Mercury)

The night hours were fast approaching, though the destruction, the clouds and fallout had rendered everything quite gloomy by the time Erskine and Effigy had broken off from their next round of duelling. From where they were, the Lord-Commander and the Advanced Model 1 had to walk over to a spot where the light from more-numerous burning wreckages could help them see each other a little better; the Brigadier-General and Advanced Nuetralizer both wished to read each other's reactions, and with more accuracy for the subtle nuances than the smoky murk could provide. Sheathing his sword whilst his adversary's returned to it's host body, Barran would notice her poorly-concealed amazement at what her morphic hands had achieved in such a short span of time, but in their brief moment of truce, the Blue-Heart almost envied the droid for the awe and amazement he'd long since forgotten in the process of mastering the craft with Sandhurst's Swordsmanship Academy.

'Can you feel, or perhaps even see it now? Do you understand why I said,"Keep going"? This right here, that unexplainable joy o' the fight we're feeling now, is that singular, obscure state o' fighting flow that every warrior strives to reach at least once in their lifetime. An' perhaps, just - maybe, it could very well be that specific answer as to why we both persist in fighting on against all hope. Make any one o' those swords again for me, right now, an' think o' the wonders it has done for you- no no.... Just draw it out an' look it at it, then think of the wonders your blade has done for you by this point of the war already.'

Effigy's right hand would make the great-sword again, already basking in it's potential for future battlefield-utilisation as it slowly congealed from the pommel upwards, made all the easier with the Advanced Nuetralizer's nanite-abilities having been brought back to nominal by then. The mercury-like substance would glint and shine in the glow of the nearest debris-fire as Erskine watched on with amazement of his own, a sight that would've shaken the very hearts of the less-courageous, but Barran was fascinated by it, almost enthralled by the beauty of it as Effigy brought the sword into a fully-detailed form for the first time; the Advanced Model 1 was evolving, and the challenge he always dreamed of was proving their worth in the firelight, bringing those goosebumps back for a showing that was almost as intense as it was in watching Cotan Sar'andor running into the tank-graveyard envelopment alone.

'This state that all soldiers have coveted for aeons, no matter if they were Force-users or not, it seeks out those perfect fights like the one we're both fighting now; with each and every one somehow yielding this inextricable state of mind we've both appeared to attain, an' from this fight in particular. But enough o' that for now, Effigy. This fight today is all we need to think about, so let's clash swords until our masters call us back. Let us make our last attempts to kill each other for now, as there is no doubt in my mind we'll be fighting each other again in the near-future.'

With eyes darting back-and-forth between her blade and Barran's cold-grey irises throughout, the Advanced Nuetralizer pouted with head nodding slowly in thoughtful agreement to his closing comments, though shrugging at the fact she couldn't know for sure if that would happen yet. After a moment of silence between them, the sounds of war and horror erupted in the distance as the nanite-droid cast a vicious smile in his direction, tilting her head towards the area they'd chosen as their fighting stage before as Effigy began walking off towards her former starting position. Following the Advanced Nuetralizer as she changed the size and form of her mercury-sword once more, the Lord-Commander drew his own with his trademark smirk in clear sight, readying his posture once more as he prepared for a fight against the basket-hilted claymore's exact replica.

Using the same sword as one's opponent was once seen as flattery, but this is clearly just to eliminate excuses. Quite obvious.

'Not gonna lie, that basket-hilted design actually looks good on you. Just don't abandon it too quickly, ya hear?'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - A Stormchaser's Sword 5 (The Grand Finale)

Aaaaw'right.... Visibility's only gawnty get lower as the night drifts on, think....

As the gloom grew darker around their next round of testing each other's fighting prowess, the Advanced Nuetralizer would draw into the darkness and offer Erskine to do the same, taunting him to sneak around like he was before their first clash. They'd been testing each other's blocks and parry-counter timings to look for the tiniest of openings to exploit, going at it for another ten minutes or so before readjusting for what looked to be their final round of fighting for that outing. Knowing his opponent could see much better in the dark than he could, the Brigadier-General had to think quickly on which method would ensure his survival until the fight's conclusion; failing that, Erskine would clear his mind of the trying, and in an effort to get creative with the Fiore-style again, try to awaken that keen artist of ultraviolence within his heart-of-hearts.

No other choice, you know droids are dangerous in the dark. Draw her in, stick to the Fiore manual, exploit the openings.

'Oooooooo! I pity you in this one, Effigy! Good luck!'

And before the Lord-Commander knew it, leaping forth from the smoke to his right was the snarling presence of the Advanced Model 1, silent as the smoke she was using to cover her approach until the last moment; unaware of his cunning reversion to blunt-force tactics, (and keeping within the umbrella of the multiple Fiore disciplines) Effigy would find herself surprised when no sword came up to meet her own, especially when her front foot landed to balance the trajectory of her downward hacking motion. All that was needed was a single lateral step leftwards, a leftward-swerving lean, and stomping his new front foot on that of his opponent, and the perfect overhand pommel-strike would be lined up perfectly; but the droid had learned from that mistake, and had leaned back to dodge the thistle-shape pommel just in time.

Leveraging herself on the trapped foot, Effigy would attempt to make a backward swipe for his ribcage that couldn't reach it's mark, telegraphed too hard for the Blue-Heart to sensibly stand in it's way. Erskine anticipated the flick of the Advanced Nuetralizer's wrist would be heading in his direction, so he made sure to sprint behind the droid's blindspot and off into the gloom again, knowing the loss of momentum would work against Effigy at such angles. He knew the Advanced Nuetralizer would go running off to find an angle of attack on her own terms, but the Brigadier-General would still take care in the dark to calm his heartrate, settling the volume of his breaths as the throbbing in his eardrums subsided again.

This has to be the last move of the fight, better stick with the surprise tactics for the final salvo.

'Not bad, you're learning much quicker than you were before - BUT I KNOW YOU'RE SNEAKIER THAN THAT, EFFIGY!!!'

No more secrecy, no more hiding in the smoky darkness, no more springing forth from unknown angles, only the Advanced Model 1 stepping forth with confidence in her stride, something the Lord-Commander couldn't help but appreciate; a distinct gesture he knew he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon, but Barran also knew the slow approaches in duelling-combat could still present their own measured dangers, and especially in their fight's closing segment. Edging forward to meet Effigy at her own pace, Erskine threw all his sword-control into his right hand as the nanite-droid adopted a frontal high guard, lining his position up perfectly to play his own part in the fight's final flurries and rushes of activity; with his position directly in front of the Advanced Model 1, the Lord-Commander could then happily lean forward and bend his knees for his last attack, waiting in perfect poise for the right moment to surprise her.

To Erskine, it felt like an eternity has passed since they left the gloom to meet each other by the dim-light of the debris-field, but when the moment came, everything happened as if by a flash; Barran had jumped forth from just outside the reach of the Advanced Nuetralizer's sword, grabbing her hardened faux-mercury blade with his left hand on approach as the sole of his right foot veered down in an attempt to crack Effigy's shin. Everything looked to succeed in that moment, even the shock on Effigy's face was easy to see from his left-periphery as his frame turned his head in the direction of his shin-stomp attempt, but the Advanced Nuetralizer threw her knee up to block his foot and push him back from that focal point; throwing it like a knee-strike, it had created enough kinetic energy to send him back by a few paces at least, forcing the Lord-Commander to let go of her blade as soon as the contact was made between knee and heel.

'I liked that one, Erskine. You dance good for an old geezer, but this is where our party ends for now. Enjoy the ashes, and see you soon....'

'Glad t'be o' service, dawl. But that question of,"Who's better, human or droid?", will need to be answered between us eventually.'

​

​