Dominion Horns of Freedom [GA Dominion of Iridonia and Uda IV]

[Roman Vossari]

Lightsaber: X | Talisman: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Diogo Talon | Caelan Valoren

​

Roman's emerald blade ignited with a soft hum, the vibrant green light a stark contrast to the chaos swirling around him. He assumed his Soresu stance, a posture of unwavering defense, parrying the errant blaster bolts that skittered across the penthouse. He moved with a practiced grace, his body a blur of motion as he deflected a barrage of attacks.

The loyalist who he had been previously struggling with, clutching the young Padawan's lightsaber, began to rise, a dangerous glint in his eye. But Roman was quicker. With a swift, brutal kick, he connected with the loyalist's jaw, sending him sprawling back to the ground. He then retrieved Caelan's weapon, even though the younger Padawan hadn't made use of it yet, he assumed he would want it back.

His gaze swept across the room, searching for Caelan. He spotted his friend herding a group of hostages towards the exit, their faces pale with terror. "Catch!" Roman yelled, his voice cutting across the room, as he launched Caelan's lightsaber towards the young Padawan.

Roman, with a flick of his wrist, turned his attention back to the loyalists, his emerald blade deflecting a heavy blast from a particularly aggressive opponent. He knew he had to buy Caelan time, to buy the hostages time. He needed to distract the loyalists and keep them from interfering with the escape.

He fought with a fierce determination, his mind clear, focused solely on the present. Every parry was precise, efficient.

His attention shifted briefly to the office, where he had glimpsed a scene of desperate struggle. Diogo, the boisterous Padawan, was grappling with the imposing Sith Lord, Varok. The sight of his friend in such dire straits fueled Roman's resolve. He could hear the heavy breathing of the Sith, the crackling energy of their lightsabers clashing.

Then, a flicker red caught his eye as Kel, the militia leader, intervened. Shots rang out, disrupting the duel in the office. Roman saw Kel's blaster fire land near Varok, forcing the Devaronian to release his grip on a gasping Diogo. Relief washed over him, but the struggle was far from over.

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Iridonia
Tags: Dezorath Barcu

​

Oh. He really hadn't received any training. Dillon sighed, sidestepping the next incoming blow from his opponent. His actions were swift, ending the battle with a series of moves that could only be described as masterful. One palm-strike broke the Sith's dueling arm, to which the man let out a scream of pain and agony. With his free hand the Jedi scooped up the man's lightsaber as he dropped it, performing a quick spin to bisect his opponent. The man was in two pieces on the floor before he even had a chance to react, the remnants of his last moments still on his face.

It was time to change everything. No gain would come from him taking control of the entire battle. The Gen'dai would have to learn how to work alongside his Force sensitivity. There was really only one way to help heighten one's senses in a situation like this. The ancient Jedi Master sat down, crossed his legs...

And cleared his mind. Battle Meditation.

The air became rich with power, light and radiant as the stars in the sky. The area around them became a wellspring of energy, all spilling out from the peace of a singular man. He wasn't forcing this place to bend to his will, rather he had turned his very body into a conduit from which raw Force energy spilled out and surrounded his allies...

Marissa Shoda , Aris Noble , Braze , Azurine Varek , Connel Vanagor , Jonyna Si , Diogo Talon , Caelan Valoren , Roman Vossari , Aadihr Lidos , Zaiya Ceti , Iris Arani , Others...

Let the sensation wash over you, padawan. The Force is your strength, your body the vessel. Ignore your sight. The energy will move you.

And how good it felt to let the Force move through him once again. Not in four thousand years had he let loose like this. Once again, Dillon Kai'el would be the lens.

He would let his Order focus themselves through him.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
WEAPON: Lightsaber
TAGS: Roman Vossari | Diogo Talon

Caelan maneuvered the hostages to the exit and herded them through it. It was the best he could do for them and he knew that the soldiers below would be able to get them help and get them out of the building to safety. When the last of them was through the doors, he closed them, making it so no one would have the opportunity to shoot at them from within the suite where they were still fighting it out with the loyalists and the Sith himself.

Just in time, too, as Roman tossed his lightsaber to him.

He caught it, and almost instantly felt a feeling wash over him that he hadn't before. And words, transferred to his mind through the Force similar to what Diogo had done earlier. He felt lighter, refreshed, repurposed. The Force felt more powerful to him and he really felt like he didn't need his saber in that moment. So he clipped it back to his belt and looked over the room around them as some of the loyalists turned towards him with the barrier no longer between them for protection.

Even as they raised their weapons he was moving, darting with increased speed across the room. He slammed his arm across the chest of one in a perfect clothesline, flipping him onto his back in a way that knocked him out cold. The other turned towards him, but Caelan snapped a kick into the side of his knee, and then kicked upward, catching him in the chin and sending him sprawling away unconscious.

But something was wrong. He could feel it through the meld, and he turned and ran towards the room where Diogo was fighting Varok, leaving Roman to deal with the last few loyalists. This time he did draw his lightsaber, a white-cored blade with purple and blue fringe springing forth as he launched himself at the Devaronian Sith, utilizing his training and the guidance of the Force through the meld to bring his weapon to bear, fully intending to catch the Sith off guard, and take his legs out from under him. Permanently.

 

[Iris Arani]

​

Okay, Zaiya was good, but what had cause the explosion? What- Danger. Iris twisted as the colors darkened just before a silent shot ripped through the air. Her expression tightened, neutral. Focused. There weren't a lot of options right now, but- A different sensation traveled, bringing with it some relief. Another Battle Meditation, a stranger but a friend, reaching out all through the battlefield.

That was enough for Iris.

Different colors had pulled her attention. The explosion was worse than she'd thought. All this rubble and dust, it was the building they were in that had been targeted. People targeting the Jedi, specifically. A trap. Like a shade Iris practically appeared beside Zaiya, letting herself fall into both Meditations as she pulled on the colors, the Force. Shrapnel popped out of the wounds as they sealed closed, aided by the Force before Iris looked right to her Padawan.

"Find Aadihr. He's close, and dying, with another. Ignore everything else, the others here are recovering enough. Do not stop until you find him, then focus healing him first. Ignore his protests, when he's not bleeding out he and you both can help the one he's with. Do not draw your lightsaber. You've got this." Iris gave a bright smile then before she reached up to the droid on her back. The body split open, a hatch popping in the process as the lightsaber that had been built to be housed extended. Iris took it, took Domxite themselves before her gaze shifted up.

"Do not fight them. Run to Aadihr."

Whether or not Zaiya could feel them, they were here now. The rainbow colored blade sprang to life, hissing from years of disuse before the blade itself settled onto a pale pink.

I'm sorry. You ready?

Always, Iris.

Iris gave just a little twitch of a smile at the familiar 'voice' of Domxite in her head before the two fell into their Meld. Then she was gone. Zaiya was suddenly alone as her Master seemed to meld into the very air. Fighting erupted around them, quick clashes of blades visible only for a moment through the dust. Iris wasn't the only one fighting, but her focus was keeping these Assassins away from Zaiya, to give her the time to find and heal Aadihr and bring the Knight back into the fight.

They didn't have time for anything less.

Zaiya Ceti | Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris stayed near Jonyna, his gaze drifting about to try and find the other assassins, wherever they were. The cut on his skin had already stopped bleeding, slowly but surely healing back over. There wouldn't even be a scar. But it proved that he could be cut. That he could bleed. There were thoughts and feelings on that he'd have to sort out later, but right now, his gaze was ever forward.

They needed to get to the capital.

And a path was made. He blinked as he caught sight of Connel Vanagor , but he didn't think twice on it. Instead, he ran. Just as Jonyna Si said, it was time to blitz it. so, he did.

Azurine Varek

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJECTIVE 1
SAVED N' HOT TO GO
TAGS: Roman Vossari Caelan Valoren

Varok's concentration broke as he deflected the Iridonia militia leader's volley of blaster shots.

The relief of pain was practically euphoric. Diogo had felt this way once before, after he fell victim to a Niamos ocean swell. At the mercy of the mercurial waters, he almost drowned if not for the Force; some innate power burst out of him and he found the strength to escape the tides. But this time, he had the help of his comrades, which somehow made the feeling even better.

Each successive breath grew steadily less ragged. His lips were so dry, he felt them crack open as he coughed. Then he felt an external power, from some distance away, surging into him. A powerful Jedi, no doubt. He accepted it eagerly. He felt renewed, melded to his fellow Jedi.

Then Caelan appeared as if he materialized on the spot. In one swift motion, he tried to permanently disable the rogue Sith Lord, but Varok managed to block the attack, and thrust his arm to push the Padawan back a foot or two. Caelan might have been nobility, but he wasn't of the prissy sort—at least on the battlefield.

Diogo claimed his lightsaber from the floor, the hilt had a few new nicks in it. He felt the kyber crystal's power in his palm, which seemed to pulsate as he thumbed the ignition switch. The familiar blue blade came to life. He looked to Caelan, nodded, then turned his gaze back to Varok. Slowly shifting his position, Diogo moved behind Varok, making room for Roman to join the fight. It was time to put this Devaronian devil out of his misery.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Aris Noble Azurine Varek Jonyna Si

Dillon Kai'el 's battle meditation melded with Braze's own, and he could feel it washing over him in waves. Braze reached deep within, channeling the Force to heighten his other senses. The muffled sounds of the battle ahead faded, replaced by a keen awareness of his immediate surroundings. He could sense the subtle shifts in the air, the faintest movements of his adversaries as they circled him.

His focus shifted to protecting them, ensuring that no assassin breached their ranks from the rear. Despite his blindness, his connection to the Force allowed him to anticipate movements.

The first assassin lunged forward, their blade aimed to render Braze's throat with deadly precision, a flash of malice gleaming in their eyes as he closed in on the padawan. However, as Azurine Varek 's attack demanded his attention to shift slightly to block the oncoming telekinetic projectile, Braze moved as a swift gust of wind to seize the opportunity.

He sidestepped with an elegance that spoke of practiced discipline, the blade barely missing him and leaving a mark through his suit along his neck nicking him. Without a heartbeat's hesitation, Braze extended his arm, the Force flowing through him like a rushing tide. A well placed force push aimed at his chest sent the assassin stumbling, their balance faltering. The figure crashed against a nearby pillar, the sound resonating as they slumped momentarily disoriented.

Requiem, his fencing foil-style lightsaber, flashed in his hand as he flourished the chalcedony teal blade, the familiar hum vibrating through the haze of battle to deflect an oncoming attack. He then flowed into Soresu, the defensive stance resolute as he countered the barrage of stabs.

The Gauntlet Shield bristled to life once more with defiant energy, its golden sheen reflecting the harsh light as the Katar blade sparked back out, being employed as a spring attack that made it much harder to anticipate. The second assassin attacked viciously, but Braze met their blows with grace, his shield deflecting a particularly savage strike. In a sudden surge, he thrust the heated Katar forward—its molten edge glowing as it pierced through armor. The second assassin reeled, a sharp cry escaping them as they staggered backward. Braze did not relent; Sentry, his parrying dagger, was already in his grip, deftly deflecting a strike aimed for his head from the third assassin, strengthened by soft to solid. A swift kick sent him tumbling to his side from the third assassin, but he rolled, popping up onto his feet and taking a defensive guard.

Braze couldn't afford to falter—not when his friends depended on him. Drawing upon the culmination of his training, he began to anticipate the assassins' tactics, countering their moves with a fluid grace born of countless hours of sheer discipline to the martial art of combat.

The second assassin moved in to flank him, their blade glinting as it swept low—a strike meant to disembowel. Braze twisted sharply, his Katar intercepting the strike, the blades sparking as they connected. He retaliated with an upward slash from Requiem, his movements flowing like a river, the teal blade carving an arc of light. He spun into a leap, Ataru amplifying his motion, each twist imbued with the Force's fluid strength. All at once in the spinning moments, Sentry disappeared into its sheath, and with his right hand free, Braze grasped Nightshade, his throwing knife, hurling it with deadly intent, the blade flying through the air towards the reeling first assassin's throat. But the assassin, driven by instinct, deflected it at the last moment—though not without injury, their hand seared from the grazing cut. A well-timed Force push caught Braze's mid-air recovery, launching him back. He corrected himself with an agile twist, landing in a defensive crouch, his eyes now alight with seething fury despite the blinding sting that caused his vision to blur. Tears flowed freely as a natural response to the irritant.

In one fluid motion, Braze transitioned yet again, his actions a seamless flow like a coursing river, yet explosive. Requiem slid back to its place on his belt, while Whirlwind, his chain kama, snapped to life. The weapon spun in his grip, creating a hot cyclone of the curved plasma blade. The first assassin, rage boiling beneath their mask looking for revenge against the little whelp, lunged recklessly. Whirlwind was let loose to meet them, its chain entwining around their weapon, locking it in place as the blade caught into their arm. With a swift twist, and Force-assisted strength, Braze pulled the assassin off balance, their stance crumbling. He moved in close, his Katar flashing to life with fiery intent, stabbing into their side in rapid succession, portraying a brutal act of violence that ended with the assassin's life extinguished.

With the first assassin felled, Braze pivoted, his senses heightened, his attention locked on the second and third assassins. He needed reach—he needed control. It was like fending off hungery wolves that would take any moment to abuse his openings with out mercy.

Twilight, his polearm, emerged from its place on his back, the long shaft twirling in his hands, a blur of defensive arcs. The second and third assassins were cautious now, testing his defenses, their footwork deliberate as they sought an opening. Braze backed up slowly as Twilight whistled through the air in a wide arc, forcing the assassins back, his stance staunch and his spirit unyielding. Braze backed up slowly, his tenacity vibrant as his small chest heaved with deep but controlled and disciplined breaths to fuel the muscles of his small frame.

To add to his reach, Braze flicked his wrist, reaching back to release Troublemaker's Trickblade—a spinning hybrid of saber and chakram, a perfect companion to his polearm's sweeping reach. He threw it, the dual blades spun wildly, slicing through the dark air with an almost joyful abandon. The second and third assassins were forced to dodge. Braze used this opening to sprint forward, the Force propelling him, he reached back using the Force, recalling the lost Nightshade blade. He turned to block and spun Twilight in a broad sweep, his strikes controlled yet unpredictable, as the two assassins did not let up. Braze's swing was designed to keep his enemies at bay, the Trickblade adding an erratic layer that left no room for complacency.

The second and third assassins attempted a final coordinated rush—like shadows converging in on their prey. Braze's heart pounded as their blades came at him from two directions, faster than he could counter. He twisted desperately, Twilight's shaft sweeping out to parry one strike, but the second assassin moved in with brutal efficiency, landing a heavy blow against his side that knocked the wind from him. Braze gasped, staggering, his vision darkeneing as he tried to regain his balance.

Another strike came, this one aimed at his legs, and Braze barely managed to leap back in time. He landed awkwardly, pain flaring up his leg as he struggled to stay on his feet. The assassins pressed in, their attacks relentless, each strike forcing Braze further back, his defenses beginning to crumble under the pressure. The sound of steel clashing and the searing heat of near misses made his head spin. He was a powerhouse, but even power had its limits. The relentless demands of the fight were taking their toll—each movement felt heavier, his strength draining with every passing moment. His energy was fading, his reserves dwindling like a flame struggling to stay alight in a storm.

A sudden slash from the second assassin slipped through his guard, raking across his arm. Braze cried out, his grip on Twilight faltering as he felt the warmth of blood running down his arm. He swung Twilight in a wide, desperate arc, forcing them back for a moment, but it wasn't enough. The assassins were masters of their craft, their movements coordinated and precise, and Braze could feel himself losing ground, to their experianced superiority.

Panic began to claw at him. He couldn't hold them off much longer—he needed help.

"Aris!" Braze shouted, his voice cracking with the strain. "I need you! Help!"

The desperation in his voice echoed across the battlefield. The assassins, sensing his vulnerability, advanced with renewed determination and excited vigor. Braze's arms ached, his legs felt like they were made of lead, and his vision was a blur of motion and pain. He blocked a brutal overhead strike, the force of it jarring his shoulders, nearly making him drop Twilight, being forced to fall to a knee.

​

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Iris Arani Aadihr Lidos

The explosion still rang in Zaiya's ears, a dull roar that seemed to vibrate through her bones. Dust clung to her skin, muting the usual shimmer of her bioluminescence, though citrine and cobalt flashes cut through the haze as her determination flared. Her gaze darted to Iris, wide with awe as her Master worked, the Force guiding her every motion. Watching shrapnel pull itself from wounds and flesh knit back together was mesmerizing and a little intimidating. Was that what she could become one day?

"Okay!" Zaiya managed, her voice steady despite the whirlwind around her. She nodded sharply, ready to follow orders, ready to find Aadihr. She turned to leave, her focus narrowing, but paused as Iris reached for Domxite. Zaiya's breath hitched when she saw the droid's body shift, revealing the lightsaber hilt housed within.

Her eyes widened, bioluminescence swirling with coral hues of astonishment.

Domxite is a lightsaber? That was… incredible. But there was no time to process it. No time to ask the million questions bubbling in her mind.

"Be safe!" she called, her voice barely carrying above the chaos. And then she ran, her feet pounding against the debris strewn ground, her focus narrowing with each step.

The battlefield churned around her, the cries of pain, flashes of light, the hum of blasters, but Zaiya forced herself to push through. Her heart twisted every time she passed someone wounded, every time she saw a figure crumpled in the wreckage. Her hands itched to help, but Iris's voice echoed in her mind.

Find Aadihr. Ignore everything else.

The lesson was a harsh one, a weight settling on her shoulders as she pushed forward. Was this what it meant to be a healer? To make impossible choices about who to save and who to leave behind? Her chest tightened at the thought, her steps faltering for just a moment before she felt it -- a desperate pulse through the Force, faint but unmistakable.

Aadihr.

Her eyes narrowed, her bioluminescence brightening as she locked onto his presence and sprinted toward it. The rest of the battlefield melted into the background. She had her target. She had her purpose. And for now, nothing else mattered.

"Aadihr!" She cried out, turning towards a mound of rubble. There! She saw him, arm delved deep into a gap of the ruined building, but the criimson staining his robes sent shock flaring through the Lovalla's expression, her skin blanchening to pewter.

Rushing forward, she reached him, immediately calling upon the Force to try and see what she could do to help. Focus on the most important and vital of tasks to stabilize him, Zaiya told herself, crouching down as the grimy faced Padawan began to pull at the colors and the Force to heal him.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Lightsaber: X | Talisman: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Diogo Talon | Caelan Valoren

​

Roman's emerald blade sang a final, decisive song as it met the hilt of the last loyalist's vibroblade, sending the weapon spinning through the air. The loyalist crumpled to the ground, unconscious after a final blow. The rest lay scattered around the room in various states of disarray, a testament to Roman's swift and efficient handiwork. He couldn't explain it, but something invigorated him during the fight, a surge of confidence that felt almost foreign. He dismissed it as adrenaline, as the need to protect his friends who were currently locked in a desperate struggle with the Sith Lord in the next room.

Roman swiftly moved towards the office, his heart pounding in his chest. He slid seamlessly into the fray, weaving around Kel and Diogo, finding his place alongside Caelan as they encircled Varok. The tension in the air was palpable, the clash of lightsabers echoing in the confined space. Varok, a hulking Devaronian with eyes burning with a fiery intensity, seemed to embody the very essence of rage.

"It's over. Let's end this peacefully." Roman declared, his voice firm despite the tremor of anticipation coursing through him. He hoped the words would pierce through the Sith Lord's haze of anger, but he knew the chances were slim.

Varok's response was immediate and brutal. A deafening roar erupted from his throat, followed by a lightning-fast attack aimed at Caelan. A vicious red blade flashed, slicing through the air towards the younger Padawan's torso.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
WEAPON: Lightsaber
TAGS: Roman Vossari | Diogo Talon

They had him surrounded, which seemed like they had him right where they wanted him. The issue was, this was a Sith Lord, not some Sith apprentice or untrained foe. He had experience, and he had skills that they did not. But they did have numbers, and the element of the battle meditation was on their side as well. In reality, it would have been wise for him to accept that he was defeated, rather than press his luck. He could live if he conceded. Pushing his luck risked death, which Caelan did not want for him despite what he'd done.

But alas, the Sith was a fool.

Caelan drew on the strength within him and the battle meditation itself pushed more into him and he created a short bubble of energy around himself at the same time as he raised his lightsaber into the air. When Varok's blade interacted with the bubble, it left the Sith momentarily exposed. His momentum stopped, the bubble disappeared, and down came Caelan's blade, cutting the Sith's arm off just above the elbow.

Varok howled in rage as his lightsaber fell to the floor in his severed hand. He backed away, grasping at his stump. As he did, Caelan called the sith's lightsaber from his fallen hand, into Caelan's own, activated it, and held both blades up towards the Sith, stepping forward towards him as he did so. He wasn't going to kill him. He had no intention of doing so unless absolutely forced, and he hoped that the Varok would see reason now that he was disarmed, literally.

"Surrender," Caelan said coldly. "Your battle is over. You have lost. I guarantee you a fair trial and fair punishment."

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

OBJECTIVE I

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Aadihr felt the support of not one but three presences. He focused on breathing, checking on the survivor’s aura. Scarlet ribbons marked his body, his clothing, and his hair, a trail left in his wake.

He thought he heard his name. The world stopped spinning. His body stopped bleeding from a hundred cuts. Zaiya had found him. He would live. The civilian would live.

Even as he was still healing, he began to move, ignoring any protests. Aadihr rose to his heels, gripping the collapsed wall with both hands, and pulled. If he couldn't coax the force to move this rubble, he would do it himself.

His core shook from the effort, thighs, calves, shoulders, arms, and back all straining as the rubble slowly moved. Millimeter by millimeter, the trapped bystander gained more freedom of movement until they were able to assist. Enough space was made that the Iridonian survivor was able to crawl out. Aadihr dropped the weight of rubble, a cloud of dust rising from the sudden impact of the weight.

Aadihr wordlessly pointed the survivor towards the evacuation, too breathless to speak.

“Zaiya… thank you…” Aadihr managed to utter. He propped himself up by the staff. His body has healed enough to stabilize, but his life force felt bolstered. The Force was being brightened so vibrantly he felt he could almost refill himself from the saturation.

Shambling back through the torn streets while looking like a walking corpse, Aadihr stumbled alongside Zaiya to each injured soul he could, healing each from his reservoir of life as he went, aiding the Padawan whenever possible.

One sight confused him. It looked like a lifeless corpse—rather, a mannequin or lifelike droid, through the force. An outline of a person walking, taking ginger steps amongst the rubble, avoiding making any noise. It was armed. To an outsider’s perspective, he would have been giving an eyeless stare to nothing.

Aadihr's hand raised to his neck, a question on his face as a knife flung perfectly towards it, deflected at the last second with a quick pulse of the force. He moves his staff in place before a second knife is thrown, spinning away from colliding with his staff. Aadihr was confused at what he saw. A force-less presence? Too fluid in movement to be a droid. Curiosity drove him as much as survival instinct.

The assassin lunged, as if they didn't expect Aadihr to follow their movements—but when his staff was already set to intercept, the assassin backed off, repositioning with a leap to cling to the side of the building overhead. Aadihr’s eyeless face followed. Another knife was thrown, anticipated and deflected by Aadihr's staff.

The assassin leapt into close combat with Aadihr. They moved as if frustrated, but there was no aura to read from. To Aadihr's sight, it was a translucent glass man with no force presence—and it relied too heavily on the assumption that it would be unseen, as even Aadihr was able to deflect and knock away the limbs of each attempted strike with his staff. Curiosity satisfied, Aadihr swung the staff from a parry into a two-handed swing against its head. The assassin clearly wasn't Iridonian, as they crumpled to the ground, suddenly filling with Force light, dark-aligned hues revealed to the unconscious form. "Sith? Almost completely shrinking their presence? Zaiya, were there more?"

Slowly, realization set in as Aadihr lifted his staff to the heart of the assassin. He stifled his own reluctance; hesitation now could cost someone their life. Aadihr quickly lit and disabled his pike, ending the assassin's life. Aadihr continued his deathless shamble, immediately searching to check if Zaiya Ceti was still safe and used his FarSight to see Iris Arani in a dance of life and death against multiple of these camouflaged sith.

Zaiya Ceti | Iris Arani​

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJECTIVE 1
TO KILL, OR NOT TO KILL
TAGS: Roman Vossari Caelan Valoren

Varok was silent. The rogue Sith Lord blinked back disbelief and sank to his knees. His wrathful, red eyes stared at the floor.

Diogo walked up from behind. Every fiber of his body tensed. His grip tightened around his lightsaber hilt to stop from shaking. He slowly raised his arm as he surged the rest of his Force energy into it. Then the moment seemed to break. He looked into the eyes of his fellow Padawans. After a brief pause, the blue blade disappeared, taking its heat and hum with it. Diogo bent down and retrieved Varok's severed arm, then slammed it into the back of the Sith's head with all his might. The Devaronian crumpled on the floor, knocked out but alive.

Diogo looked at the others and shrugged. "I think he surrendered," he said hoarsely.

Some deaths were just, righteous, and necessary. Death absolutism was for the holier than thou philosophers, or so Diogo believed. If he ever gave into his brainlust, he would expect death. Welcome it, even. But that was his decision to make. Varok's fate wasn't.

If not for the battle meditation; if not for Caelan and his noble mercy; if not for Roman and his austere charm, maybe things would've gone down differently. Their better natures became his—momentarily, at least.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Lightsaber: X | Talisman: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Diogo Talon | Caelan Valoren

​

Roman watched, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He had anticipated a far more protracted and brutal struggle from Varok, a display of Sith ferocity that would test their mettle to the very core. The Sith Lord's swift surrender, though seemingly orchestrated by Caelan's decisive action, was unexpected. Though, Roman mused if he too lost a better part of his arm to a Padawan, he too might not see the purpose in forging ahead with rage.

A quiet satisfaction settled within him, not from the Sith's defeat, but from the impressive display of his fellow Jedi. Diogo had shown incredible composure and decisiveness in a moment of intense pressure. Caelan, despite his youthful appearance, had acted with both strength and mercy, a potent combination that had clearly caught Varok off guard. Roman was filled with a quiet pride.

As the military personnel arrived to take Varok into custody, a wave of normalcy washed over the scene. Kel, ever efficient, offered a brief nod of gratitude before departing to the more pressing matter of tending to the released hostages.

The office, emptied of its previous chaos, became a space of shared unspoken understanding. Roman considered his options. A simple "well done" felt inadequate, almost condescending. They were his equals, not his subordinates, and surely didn't require his validation. Instead, a practical solution surfaced. "We should see how else we can assist with the city's liberation." he said, his voice calm and steady. It was a proposition, an invitation for continued action, a way to acknowledge their shared accomplishment without needing to articulate it. He hoped, perhaps, they would accept, and together they would continue to fight for Iridonia.

 

[Azurine Varek]

We Will Not Be Silent

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

"I trust you, Jonyna. With my life." Azurine spoke softly, turning to clasp the master's shoulder and give a quick squeeze of camaraderie with what little time they could spare. "I may be at a disadvantage... but I can still run like hell. I hope."

Azzie's heart thundered in her chest as Braze's cry for help tore through the chaos, cutting through her haze of pain. She gritted her teeth, the poison attempting to move through her veins, giving a dulled burn, but she refused to give it the satisfaction of breaking her. The Force hummed around her as she kept the venom contained, binding it to its point of origin like a caged beast threatening to escape. Given enough time, it would, and the hourglass was ticking.

Her eyes burned with that deep, primal anger as she forced a grin through the pain. "You think I'm done? Cute."

Still, she propelled herself forward, driven by a mix of sheer determination and the bond she shared with her team. She held her hands outward, and the silvery translucent shield flared to life, a glowing dome of energy standing tall to protect Braze from the next strikes. The assassins’ blades would hit it, sending ripples across its surface. She could feel the pulse of a new meditation crash through her, providing a strength to the barrier she hadn't been able to manage before because of her current weakness.

She hoped that her quick barrier would be enough for Aris to provide him an opening to make a dash for the capitol building. Jonyna was right. They needed to blitz through. Maybe Aris wouldn't need to give him an opening, though; her eyes were drawn to Connel Vanagor as he dropped from the rooftops straight into the middle of the fray. Perfect.

"Braze, just run! The building is ahead!"

Though she hesitated, her eyes drawn to the sporadic patterns within the knight's aura that hadn't been there before. Dark and chilling, weaving its way into his colors. A fear in the back of her mind instinctively made her hand rise to the spot on her chest she had been stabbed, then to clutch tightly at the light-imbued talisman around her neck. She didn't know what could cause such shifts that she saw, but she hoped that he would make it through.

Pulling herself quickly out of her head, Azzie gave a quick nod to Jonyna and took off across the streets. Her vision tunneled, filling with flashes of her past, moments similar to this that she had been through before. Using the newfound strength from the battle meditation, she channeled as much as she could into her feet to make each stride cover much more ground. Every moment, the pain at her collar area would spread ever so slightly.

She skidded to a halt at the capitol building's edge, staring up at the second-floor balcony. Taking a deep breath, she channeled into her feet once again to run up the side of the wall and launch herself over the railings. Her landing was anything but graceful in her state, hitting the stone with a thud and a groan, but at least she'd made it, hoping that the others weren't far behind.

Aris Noble | Jonyna Si | Braze​

 

[Iris Arani]

​

Iris was closer than Aadihr might've thought. Her dance continued in the shadows, flashes of her lightsaber barely visible as she kept Domxite as inactive as possible to keep herself hidden. It was a game of cat and mouse for her, trying to capture the rodents to make sure they didn't reach Zaiya or Aadihr. They tried, of course. Kill the healers that had set out too far from their allies was an opportunity to demoralize and weaken the Jedi forces her. If they died, who would they heal? It was a prize too good to pass up.

And made it all too easy for Iris to predict their intents. Another assassin tried for Zaiya as she followed with Aadihr, but it was more likely she'd never even know. Iris struck them down in an instant, unhesitating, unrelenting. It was war again, like it had been so many years ago. The training she had, the skills she used, she never forgot them. Never got rusty with them.

Domxite and Iris were just far too efficient of killers when they had to be.

<We're regrouping with the team we were sent with. Keep moving. Don't stop. We're being hunted.>

Aadihr Lidos | Zaiya Ceti

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Iris Arani Aadihr Lidos

Aadihr stirred beneath her touch, thanking her with a whispered rasp and already moving to get on his feet. That he was pushing himself so fast was crazy, but there was little time to waste.

A flicker of motion caught her eye, a knife, gleaming and silent, spinning straight for her as well as Aadihr, who was already reacting. Panic surged, but her reflexes kicked in. A burst of Force energy knocked the blade aside, its metallic clatter lost in the chaos. Zaiya gasped, her heart pounding in her ears.

The assassins weren't just hidden; they were invisible, like ghosts stalking the battlefield. She felt a surge of helplessness as grey overtook the vibrant colors of her skin. Another knife came, and this time Aadihr ended up fighting with the Assassin while Zaiya stretched out her senses only grunt in frustration, stormy grey ink spreading like a stain across her mottled skin. She couldn't sense the assassins. Couldn't feel them.

That horrifying absence gnawed at her confidence, leaving her vulnerable and exposed in a way she'd never experienced before. It was only through the battle meditation provided by Dillon Kai'el that Zaiya got that additional boost of confidence back to do what she had to get done.

Where were they? The battlefield blurred into a cacophony of noise and fear, and she forced herself to focus on the Force, letting it guide her instincts as she moved.

She couldn't sense them, couldn't see them. And yet, another assassin appeared out of nowhere, lunging for her. Zaiya barely had time to react, the Force screaming a warning. There was little choice, instinct driving her as her lightsaber snapped to life in her hand, the blade a teal beacon as she swung to defend herself. The clash jarred her arms, sparks flying, but she stood firm, her fear twisting into fierce determination. She might not be the best in lightsaber combat, but she could at least hold someone at bay... for now.

Then, like a hero out of a holo-novel, Master Iris emerged from the shadows, her movements fluid and precise as she struck down the attacker in an instant. Domxite's rainbow blade flashed before vanishing, Iris already moving to intercept the next threat.

Her voice reached Zaiya's mind, calm yet urgent.

<We're regrouping with the team we were sent with. Keep moving. Don't stop. We're being hunted.>

Zaiya swallowed hard and nodded, her bioluminescence flickering with muted citrine and cobalt determination.

"Got it," she managed, gripping her lightsaber tighter. She steadied her breath. Her steps were quick but careful as Iris led them towards their destination, the Lovalla Padawan doing her best to push down the terror threatening to overwhelm her. If she stopped now, if she faltered, it wouldn't just be her life on the line. She had to keep moving. For Aadihr. For Iris. For all of them.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

OBJECTIVE I

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

Iris has rescued them. Zaiya was safe, for the moment - had valiantantly defended herself.

<We're regrouping with the team we were sent with. Keep moving. Don't stop. We're being hunted.>

Aadihr nodded, Even with the pain affecting his pace, he would not let himself continue to be a burden.

“Don't search for where they are - search for what is out of place.” Aadihr managed to speak to Zaiya, quickening his pace and the click of his staff to follow Iris closer. “Sense for distortion or displacement of other signatures. Find their body, or the Force, sound, scent, tactile sense, precognition if you can do so reliably."

Aadihr knew that was harder than it sounded. As he followed behind Iris and Zaiya, he tried to share the positions of the assassins he could identify through the meld - coordinating with them. Aadihr pointed his staff to the glass-like shells of the assassins that otherwise have shrank their force presence and bent visible light around them. He acted as a spotter for the Jedi and her Padawan during their march; he would play the role of hunter to their killer. He would search so they could destroy; All the while following Iris’s lead to rejoin the rest of the team.

In an unorthodox fashion, Aadihr was glad they were being targeted. A precise strike against them was less likely to cause collateral damage.

Iris Arani | Zaiya Ceti​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
WEAPON: Lightsaber
TAGS: Roman Vossari | Diogo Talon

And just like that it was over. The fact that Diogo had taken the Sith's own arm and used it to club him in the back of the head to knock him out was somewhat poetic, but also slightly disturbing. It seemed largely unnecessary. He could simply have used his own fist to do it, couldn't he have? Not to mention the fact that Varok wasn't actually given the chance to surrender. It was something he didn't care for, taking the choice out of the Devaronian's hands. Fair was fair. He should have been allowed to choose before being clubbed.

He didn't say anything about it, though. The situation was ended. No sense in arguing over spilled milk, as they say. Instead, he stood aside and clipped Varok's lightsaber to his belt while the Iridonian forces scooped up the Sith's listless form, intending on carrying him away to who knew where. He heard Roman say something about seeing how they could help elsewhere, but shook his head.

"I don't think my role hear is at its end," he said, turning towards the exit. "I will go with them and make sure that Varok causes no more trouble and receives the full measure of justice, including fair trial proceedings."

Frankly he didn't trust the Iridonians not to outright kill the Sith. They were incredibly brutal as he had seen from Azurine, even though she was more restrained than what she'd told him. If they Iridonians were going to be a part of the Alliance then they needed to be capable of following the Alliance's laws, which meant Varok needed medical attention and incarceration before he could be put through the trial process and be given a punishment that fit the severity of his crimes.

"I'll see you all later. May the Force be with you."

With that, he turned and followed the Iridonians out.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"​

[COMM TRAFFIC]
LOCATION : Malidris - Iridonia | OBJECTIVE : I | TAG (FRIENDLY) : TAG (FOE) : @

Objective One:
(NJO/SIA OBJ)

Capital Carnage​

“The Dark Side is dripping on him!”

“He just slaughtered Terratho!”

Connel was battling a group of assassins, no sense counting how many there are, or were he’s taken down three already. A flurry of Lightknives, a Combat Shield, a Lightblaster, and Lightsabers were a whirlwind and the poison in him was sinking deeper and deeper into his bloodstream, changing his mindset, altering it to fit the whims of those around him. He could feel himself becoming a different person, his thoughts and actions conforming to the expectations of his comrades. He no longer had a mind of his own, only the collective mind of the group. He was becoming one of them in a manner of speaking.

“This is good! He is learning his true power!”

“I will not die at his hands…”

“Survival of the fittest!”

He was not clearing the board like a Dejarik game, no, these Assassins were powerful, experienced and highly trained. Not to mention several of them were all but cheering him on to fall to the Dark Side completely. While a part of him was enjoying this, there was something that none of them seemed to understand, that was his mindset, who he truly was deep down. Yes, he just felled another with a stab to the chest with his lightsaber, but there was something else.

“Friend! Give us your name!”

That seemed to get the remaining Assassins to back up. He was exhausted, and breathing heavy, but their poison was working and working well. He was all but one of them now. Then he laughed… that all but confirmed to them that he was one of them.

Just call me… “Your failure”. and charged back into the fight.

While it did not change things entirely, they did not know about him or his history. His father was historically “touched by darkness” having teetered the proverbial “fence” between Light and Dark his entire life. Connel gained this by genetics, genetics of his father, and his mother who was once a Sith Lordess herself. The both of them taught him how to “compartmentalize” his mind, that of course backfired not that long ago as a part of his very soul was controlling him when the “real” part of him was trapped, that was a story for another time though.

The point of this is that the poison in him was overwhelming, but there was a part of his mind still in control, a part it could never touch. He may be experiencing a force (no pun intended) pushing him to do evil, but there was a part of his being that was untouched by the darkness. It was this part of him that kept him from completely losing control, and it was this part that allowed him to fight off the poison. It was this part of him that kept him from becoming truly evil.

He was not dominating this fight, but right now was admittedly “free” to fight them on their own terms.

“You should be fallen! The Dark Side has enveloped you!”

“How is this possible?’

Something that sentients like you will never understand… I am not a Jedi because I have to be. I am a Jedi because I choose to be!

There were only two assassins remaining, and they ran, not out of failure, it was a tactical retreat back to the Capital building. Connel took the moments to collect his Lightknives, he would need them.

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJECTIVE 1
DONE
TAGS: Roman Vossari Caelan Valoren

"I'll see you all later. May the Force be with you."

Diogo, still holding Varok's severed arm, waved goodbye to Caelan with it. "See ya later, dude," he said, then tossed the arm to an Iridonian militiaman.

"We should see how else we can assist with the city's liberation."

"Yeah, just need a minute," Diogo said, his voice edged with exhaustion. He sank to the floor, then laid on his back. The near-death experience shook him more than he let on. And the fact he screwed everything up didn't help. How could he be so dumb?

Caelan was pragmatic and stalwart. Roman, too. They were good Jedi. Why couldn't he be like them?

Diogo just sighed and stared at the ceiling. Every muscle ached. His face throbbed. He thought of home, and imagined himself laying on the soft, warm sand as the waves lapped at his feet—carefree, like he used to be.