Junction No Sanctuary Here || SO/GA Junction of Sisio and Orellon II

[Azurine Varek]

Together, We Fight As One

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

"Let me guess, next comes some spiel about how we can’t possibly understand? Or maybe you'll just recite the Sith handbook word-for-word. Real original." Azurine flipped forward into the Red’s path as flashes of the battle to come flitted across her vision—though she wasn't quite fast enough to put herself between Aadihr and the first powerful swing before the Miraluka made his swift counter—aiming to intercept the blade at his next strike mid-swing with her own. The clash of red against yellow and orange cast a light that mimicked that of raging fire across her face. "But hey, points for honesty! At least you're willing to admit you’re just a glorified pawn in someone else’s Djarik game. Must really suck, coming back from the dead just for that."

As she pressed her attack, Azzie's movements were chaotic and intentionally unpredictable. Relentless, yet somehow calculated while doing what she could to possibly draw him further from Aadihr’s position. Give the knight enough space and keep the opposition's focus long enough for him to get a more advantageous spot. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, but that wasn't going to stop her. For the sake of the people of this city, of this planet, who couldn't fight for themselves. Her attacks came in bursts—a rapid series of thrusts and slashes interspersed with sudden retreats and acrobatic flips. Each movement was meant to test his defenses, to push him toward overextending, and to try to end a fight with brutal efficiency as quickly as possible.

Azzie feinted high with her lightsaber before snapping the other blade into a quick thrust toward his exposed side, her grip tightening in anticipation of whatever resistance she may meet. Spinning low, she then aimed the hooked edge of her sword at his knee, attempting to catch and pull him off balance. Light on her feet, she continued to keep moving. Even if the hook missed, she used the momentum to carry herself into another strike, the yellow plasma blade cutting forward horizontally towards waist level and flipping to the side. Her energy was a bright beacon of defiance and determination. One that shined through the shifting shades of violets and lavenders in her eyes and outward to others.

"I don't have to have more information about you to know that all of you are alike enough to predict motivation."

Aadihr Lidos | The Red​

 

[The Red]

The sheath came cracking down against Aadhir's riposte, his smile calm and collected as ever. For all of a moment longer. The calmness faded as the smile grew, more and more unhinged by the moment, by the second. He leaned forward, bearing down with an ever increasing weight. "You Jedi really love to assume. It's not some unknowable goal, or some grandiose scheme."

He disengaged with a twirl, his saber burning through the ground as he met every strike from Azurine with a growing and increasing ferocity. He practically danced across the ground, his grin now just an unhinged smile of pure joy. Fighting. This is what he lived for, loved more than anything. Another spin had his blade kicking up sparks on the ground.

Which raged into an all consuming blaze. The Force shifted under his control as he sought to catch the Zabrak in it, letting his gaze shift to Aadhir's assault more fully. Aggression unending, Juyo at it's finest under the command of a Sith who sought only the enjoyment of the fight. "I only care about fighting. You feel it, don't you, kin? The thrill of the fight, of clashing steel with someone your equal, your better! I'm only here to fight!"

The Red cackled out a laugh as he struck again at Aadihr again and again, fueled only by the thrill of the fight, by passion. It made him faster, it made him stronger. "So shut up and enjoy the fight!"

Aadihr Lidos | Azurine Varek

 

[Darth Dacian]

Wearing
Wielding: Standard Gear (Bio)
TAGS:
Friends: OPEN
Foes: Valery Noble
​

Dacian continued to walk briskly within the outskirts of the main body of conflict. He was like a predator stalking its hunting grounds, yet to pick a prey worthy if its fangs. To the untrained eye, he would look outlandish among the rubble and debris of the battlefield, a robed wanderer that contrasted the war gear and battle armor of those within the city.

He continued, before stopping suddenly, a presence he picked up that made the blacks in his pupils expand with anticipation. With a sudden surge of unnatural speed, Dacian sprinted towards the eastern quadrant of the city. There he caught sight of a figure leaping from a rooftop. It was his quarry, further proven with the ignition of a jedi's lightsaber. Finally. He jumped high in the air, aided by the force, landing with a gust of dust in front of where she would land.

Before Valery could join the crashing tides of Sith and Republic forces, Dacian stood a few paces in front of her, forming a one man barricade between the jedi battle-master and the conflict in front of her.

"Can't believe my luck. Finding someone like you in a place like this." He motioned his hand, pretending to tip an invisible hat on his head as he gave her a courteous smile.

"Fine day isn't it?" He asked, in reference to the smell of battle, and the sounds of carnage that filled the atmosphere.

"Hope you don't mind me cutting in." As he spoke, he motioned to his hip, underneath his robe where his vibrosword was held as if to add more emphasis to his words.

Dacian's demeanor hid the bloodlust that stirred beneath him, that calm and collected smirk on his lips obscuring his insatiable appetite for battle. An appetite he wished to sate here and now.

 

[Kaito Starfall]

Diogo Talon

Kaito inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the evening air. Yet even the soothing balm of nature couldn't quell the storm within him. The task ahead was a weight he carried unwillingly, a cruel yoke placed upon him by forces beyond his control. He clenched his gloved hands, his jaw tightening as the brand on his forearm pulsed faintly, a sinister mark of the Sith sorcery binding him. A cursed leash designed to twist his will until compliance was his only path to survival. Defiance was unthinkable; the price would be his undoing.

The directive had been clear: eliminate the padawan. A young force-wielder causing ripples his master deemed disruptive. Kaito's heart recoiled at the thought. Once, he had envisioned a different life, a life where he might have mentored such bright-eyed youth, guiding them as they found their way in the Force. But that dream was as dead as the man he used to be.

From his perch atop the crumbling rooftop, he tracked the emerald-haired padawan's movements. He had shadowed the boy, searching for signs of a master—surely a padawan would not venture alone. Yet, no master revealed themselves. Could this boy truly be on his own? The thought unsettled Kaito, a bitter pang of guilt gnawing at him.

With a flicker of motion, Kaito stepped into the shadows on the roof and emerged mere feet from his quarry. The hooded and masked figure of Kaito's presence cast a chill over the alley. Clad in black, Kaito looked more like a rogue from the underworld than a Sith or Jedi. His ice-blue eyes pierced through the slits of his half-mask, their intensity an unspoken challenge.

"You shall go no further, padawan," Kaito said, his voice low and measured, a razor's edge of resolve masking his inner torment.

With a practiced motion, he ignited his blade. The vibrant blue hue hummed to life, casting shadows across his hooded face. He assumed a duelist's stance, his blade leveled in a mid-guard, an improvised style that spoke of pragmatism over tradition.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | confiscated slugthrower rifle

This was more familiar than Aadihr would have liked. This husk revelled in battle, enjoyed it; his words mirrored Jedi who merely tolerate the code to brandish a lightsaber. The Shell mirrored Aadihr's own master.

The Red sought the thrill of battle; Aadihr found combat contemptable. The defensive motions grew more familiar; he had faced worse odds as a child against she who was assigned to train him.

Ataru wasted energy, Juyo was as volatile as the wielder. Aadihr kept his motions strict, efficient, wasting not force nor momentum in his defence - the strict Soresu of one who loathed the violence and its idolization.

Perhaps to spite the memory of his mentor, or perhaps to draw the ire of the sith, Aadihr kept his face impassive save for a slight scowl, not bothering to pretend to look at the fight through the blindfold as if he had eyes.

It took every ounce of The Miraluka's reflex and heightened spatial awareness to keep pace; he focused entirely on alternating blade and butt of the pike in thwarting, parrying, deflecting and fending the onslaught. Aadihr conserved his energy, waiting for the right moment. The way the Sith used the force against the padawan and relied on pure offence should be taxing; Aadihr would remain patient until the right moment to act revealed itself.

But not yet.

For now he weaved between blade and boot, standing his ground as best he could, though the Sith's movements grew faster and stronger. Aadihr hoped he could rob the shell of some joy, bestow some frustration to the bloodthirsty corpse-zabrak.

So it is spite that drives me after all. Aadihr noted.

The moment the sith turned his back, slipped up, or turned his attention to Azurine Varek Aadihr would strike, prioritizing an elbow, heel, or hamstring. For now, defence requires his focus.

The Red | Azurine Varek​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective 3 //: Take over the Citadel //:
//: Silas Westgard //:
//: Attire //:

The Alliance, as usual, remained an issue for the Empire's desire for expansion. They had retained their hold on Eiattu 6, which prevented trade and territory gain. Quinn was interested in Eiattu 6, mostly wanting to use it to prove her worth to her new employer. If she could make headway on the Alliance defensives - potentially Gerwald would hold in a higher favor than just being the Empress' goddaughter.

Wave after wave hit the citadel, and the Alliance hit back twice as hard with each soldier the Empire sent. Quinn had watched from her encampment, watching the Alliance fight with all their effort against the scraps of the Empire's army. They were obviously too dense to see beyond the tip of their noses. Each wave they ended was only meant to make them tired while creating a horde for the Sith's puppet master.

"I'm bored." She said while pushing herself from the ornate chair. One of the second legion's officers looked to the princess, knowing that she wasn't meant to enter the battle till far later. "Your Highness," He started, and she waved a hand, his lips sealed. "I said I'm bored. I can't stand sitting here and not doing anything. As much as you Sith enjoy watching men and women we've trained and fed march to face death - I can only stand it for so long." The officer nodded and bowed his head to her orders. She was a nuisance, and the officer didn't understand Gerwald's desire to have the spoiled brat around.

Regaining his voice, he asked, "Do you need an escort?" Quinn held her arms out as she was dressed out of his sight. Fine fabrics draped over her slender frame, covering the protective armor that she was gifted. "No." She clipped the sabers to her legs and covered them quickly with the blood-red silks of her attire.

She could feel them. They had already spotted her alone in front. Quinn could easily feel the others marching forward to claim their own ounce of infamy on the battlefield. As Quinn moved forward, her fingers moved, plucking a strand of the Force with each step. There was an easy answer, one that would overwhelm the Alliance easily, but would also risk the lives of the Empire. Something she had done too recently, and she regretted having someone important to her get caught in the crossfire.

A smile crossed her face; that would be too easy.

Stopping just outside the citadel's range, the woman raised her arms. The fine silks of her armor shifted and moved as if she were commanding a grand orchestra. Fingers twitching, wrists flicking, and with each grand gesture, the puppet master began to awaken her playthings. The near-dead and exhausted soldiers of the Alliance and the Empire began to stir, whatever life force they had within them suddenly bolstered by the woman. The hunger that screamed inside her feasted on their energies while she delicately pulled their strings. Standing, the horde began to march ahead of her, quickly opening fire and attacking anyone and anything in their path. Her motions stopped as she focused on one particular Jedi Knight. From what she could pull from the memories of the Alliance soldiers she had in her control - he had some input on this sector. In unison, the surrounding horde that marched upon Silas' location spoke his name.

"Silas, come play with me." ​

 

[17-KR7 "Enigma"]

Location: Bridge of the "Vengeance of Alderaan"
Equipment: E-5 Blaster Rifle
Tags: ENEMIES: Naamino Zuukamano Micah tol Powl Gerwald Lechner | ALLIES: Ko Vuto Briana Sal-Soren

​

Enigma's calculations played out exactly as she predicted. The Harrower Battle-Cruiser, already compromised by its overcommitted forward arc, began to list under the concentrated fire of the Alliance fleet. Bright explosions rippled across its surface as shields faltered and reactors overloaded. The final blow came from a coordinated bomber strike, the focused assault ripping through its exposed port-side reactor. In a brilliant flash of light, the Harrower detonated, scattering debris across the battlefield.

The bridge of the Vengeance of Alderaan erupted in subdued celebration. Officers exchanged brief nods, and Captain Karras allowed a tight smile to cross his face. The destruction of the Sith battlecruiser was more than a tactical victory; it was a blow to the blockade's cohesion and a spark of hope for the Alliance forces fighting tooth and nail to break through.

Enigma remained unmoved. Her crimson visor scanned the tactical display, now dominated by the shifting patterns of the Sith fleet. Predictably, the Sith forces scrambled all remaining fighters, filling the void with swarms of sleek interceptors and bombers. Their response was immediate, if frantic, aiming to overwhelm the Alliance assault with sheer numbers. Yet the chaos worked against them. Without the Harrower to anchor their formation, the Sith fighters lacked coordination, moving erratically in search of targets.

"Fleet Captain," Enigma said, her voice cutting through the renewed din of the bridge, "their fighter squadrons are disorganized. Capitalize on the disruption. Deploy interceptors in a staggered counter-formation to break their cohesion. Divert long-range frigates to provide suppressing fire against incoming bombers. Momentum is shifting—ensure it remains in our favor."

Karras relayed her commands without hesitation. The Alliance fleet responded with precision, its fighters surging into the fray to intercept the disoriented Sith squadrons. Turbolaser fire from the cruisers and frigates carved through the Sith bombers, thinning their ranks before they could reach critical targets. Meanwhile, the larger Alliance ships pushed forward, pressing their advantage and forcing the Sith capital ships into defensive positions.

Enigma's visor pulsed faintly as she monitored the battlefield. Every move, every shift in the enemy's formation, was processed and analyzed in real time. The Sith commanders were scrambling to reassert control, their tactics increasingly reactive as the Alliance assault gained momentum. Just like the simulations.

"Adjust forward line formations," she continued. "Cruisers are to form a staggered wedge, focusing fire on remaining Sith capital ships. Maintain sufficient distance to avoid concentrated retaliation. Target their shield emitters to hasten their collapse. Their losses are mounting, but overextension will squander the advantage."

Karras nodded sharply. "All ships, form up and execute the tactical wedge. Press the attack but maintain discipline!"

The fleet moved with renewed purpose. The destruction of the Harrower had not only fractured the Sith blockade but also emboldened the Alliance forces. With their morale bolstered, the coordinated strikes became more aggressive, each maneuver calculated to further disrupt the Sith's attempts to reorganize. Enigma fed data to the fleet in real time, identifying weak points in the Sith formations and uploading precise targeting solutions.

Amid the chaos, the Vengeance of Alderaan led the charge, its dorsal turrets hammering the Sith vessels that struggled to reposition. Smaller Alliance ships darted between the hulking cruisers, picking off stragglers and mopping up the scattered Sith fighters. The battlefield, once dominated by the oppressive might of the Sith blockade, was shifting in favor of the Alliance.

Despite the mounting Sith losses, Enigma's focus never wavered. Her processors were already anticipating the Sith's next move, calculating potential fallback strategies and contingency plans. The Sith commanders would not simply abandon the blockade—they were too disciplined for such a retreat. They would likely consolidate their remaining forces, relying on desperation and the fearsome reputation of their dark masters to hold their position.

"Prepare for a counteroffensive," Enigma said, her voice calm and measured. "The Sith will attempt to stabilize the line with a concentrated push. Anticipate heavy resistance from their remaining capital ships and screen all vulnerable flanks. Maintain fighter superiority at all costs."

The crew of the Vengeance of Alderaan worked with urgency, their trust in Enigma's commands now absolute. The tactical display continued to shift, but the tide was undeniably turning. The destruction of the Harrower had created a ripple effect across the Sith blockade, and the Alliance assault was capitalizing on every opportunity. The blockade that once loomed over Eiattu 6's western flank was beginning to crack.

Enigma turned her visor toward Karras. "The pressure must not relent. Momentum is a fragile resource—let it falter, and the enemy will regain their footing, currently, we have only achieved the destruction of one Harrower."

The captain nodded grimly. "Understood. We'll keep pushing."

 

[Diogo Talon]

Objective 3: Capital Gains
Tag: Kaito Starfall

Capital City, Ettiau

Diogo was gazing at a crimson smear in the dimly lit sky when a shadow jumped across his vision. A creepy chill crawled up his spine, followed by a hooded figure suddenly emerging before him. Masked, too, with piercing blue eyes. Behind those icy orbs, Diogo thought he saw something deeper—a hesitancy, perhaps, confirmed when he realized his foe had made his appearance known before attacking. That was a kind of mercy Diogo had disabused himself of; the boy would've just gone for the kill.

"You shall go no further, padawan,"

"That's a lame first line, man. I see they're not sending their best. Though... I've never seen a Sith quite like you," he admitted. "I'll still kill you all the same."

It sounded like a threat, but it was a promise.

The irony was, Diogo wasn't feeling quite like a Jedi these days. Where he sensed hesitation in his foe, it was absent in him. There was something wrong in that, he could feel a tug in the back of his skull telling him so, but he didn't have time to consider it. This was a battlefield, afterall; nothing ever felt right in war—accept that or die.

Diogo thumbed the ignition switch of his lightsaber and the blue blade materialized. Both their lightsabers cast shadows that flickered and danced in competition, while their humming rhythms harmonized.

Stepping into Makashi, Diogo gazed at his foe's mid-guard stance. It was unmistakably duelist in nature, but not an opening stance he was familiar with. With a flourish, Diogo began testing his opponent's defenses by playing into them, using a flurry of horizontal slashes targeted at his mid-section.

 

[Azurine Varek]

Together, We Fight As One

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

Azurine couldn’t stop the scowl that passed her lips, though she instinctively tried to laugh it off. "Where's the joy in a fight you know will end with either you or your opponent’s death? It's not just unfun; it's such a waste. A waste of life and a waste of time." She stated almost dismissively as she used Aadihr's defensive movement to strike at The Red from behind once again with clear defiance in her eyes. "You may be Iridonian, but you're not my kin. Those who fought for their rights and their freedoms, they are my kin."

He was right about only one thing—she absolutely did love a good fight. Just not in the way he seemed to. Tragedy justified by the thrill of combat held no appeal to her. That was why she preferred to strike with a nonlethal edge if given the option. In truth, it was a delicate balance she walked between her nature as a fierce warrior and as one with a kind heart who wanted to see peace. It seemed harder still for others to understand.

Yet, at the same time, his words struck her more than she had wanted. Her whole life, she had fought for the protection of others—stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, rising against the oppressors—but there was always a part of her that enjoyed battles themselves. Not enough for her to want to kill indiscriminately... but could she ever be pushed to that point?

Azzie felt Aadhir's presence in the Force—a steady, calculating anchor amid the storm. An anchor to the present. She knew his patience, his precision, and she trusted him to strike when the moment came. His gentle attention to defense was the balance to her always-in-motion offense. For now, her job was simple: try to keep the Sith's attention squarely on her. Let him waste his energy; let him lose himself in the thrill he so craved. No more words, even if part of her wanted to continue to speak just to illicit some kind of amusing reaction.

She pressed forward to bring another strike at his flank, but then the ground beneath her feet burned with the heat of the flames he summoned, the air thick with smoke and sparks. The visions that flashed before her eyes gave her just enough warning to launch herself backward to avoid becoming consumed in the blaze. She wasn’t able to completely avoid it, though; the heat biting painfully into her left shoulder and singing her armor. As she moved, she instinctively grabbed the trooper from before to pull him from the ground to a safe distance, which warranted a stunned reaction from the patterns in his aura. "Like I said before, leave and live to fight another day." She spoke without looking at him, but his quick and disappearing footsteps told her he'd actually listened this time.

Her focus narrowed, every fiber of her being intent on finding an opening, on keeping him from overwhelming Aadihr. She gritted her teeth, frustration burning as hot as the fire around her, her heart pounding in her chest from the adrenaline. Every step she tried to take forward was met with another wave, her movements growing slower under the relentless assault of the wildfire. Through the flickering and the smoke, she could see the brutal force clash down on Aadihr over and over again.

If you want to play with fire, then we're both going to get burned.

Azzie held her hand outward to spring a tendril of flame from the blaze he'd created, intending to crack the whip around his ankle while his back was turned.

Aadihr Lidos | The Red​

 

[Kaito Starfall]

Diogo Talon

Kaito's blade remained as steady as an ocean of calm against the crashing waves of the Padawan's aggression.

Diogo's lightsaber flared with energy, his youthful fervor reflected in each and every horizontal slash aimed for Kaito's midsection. The older warrior deflected them all with minimal effort, the soft snap-hiss of colliding sabers punctuating the silence. Each parry was efficient, almost clinical—Kaito allowed no wasted motion. The precision was maddening.

Kaito saw the padawan's aura in the force, felt it—an open book in his hands. One deflection led to another. And then another. Like guiding a child's hand away from a hot flame.

"Is this what they teach you now?" Kaito murmured, "To rush into battle like a blind storm?" He rebuked. Kaito seized the moment with a sudden flourish, his blade twisting into a lightning-fast riposte—not to wound, but to shame. The tip of his saber flicked sharply toward the Padawan's wrist, its energy dialed down to a harmless level--enough to sting and perhaps leave a singed welt.

Kaito's voice came with calm emotionless cadence, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly beneath his mask.

"You ignite your blade as though it were a torch for your fury, not the beacon of a Jedi's purpose. A lightsaber is not meant to lead you into battle—it is meant to lead you out. A Jedi does not seek the fight; they answer it only when peace is no longer an option."

Each attack met the same fate, deflected with infuriating ease. Kaito's movements were fluid, honed by endless repetition. He had little else to do than perfect his saber craft in his cell over the past decade. Each and every motion of his form was sharpened and refined, like a blade on whetstone.

"Too fast. Too reckless," Kaito muttered, his voice carrying a weight of disdain. He stepped aside as Diogo had pressed the attack, his saber carving through empty air. "You are not worthy of that blade," he added sharply, his tone devoid of malice but but carrying a cutting edge all the same.

Kaito's saber flicked out, this time aimed at grazing the back of Diogo's knee. Not a hard blow, but one placed with surgical precision. Kaito circled him now, his movements as fluid as shadow, his saber humming softly by his side. His piercing gaze bore into the boy like frostbite.

"You fight like you have something to prove," Kaito said evenly, his voice low. "But to who? Your master? Your peers...? " He paused before adding suspiciously with a touch of admonishment. "Yourself?" The words lingered in the air, cold and accusatory.

Kaito let him lash out. If he could keep the boy occupied, it would buy time for his master's other minions to finish their work. Better this child remain here with a bruised pride, than wander deeper into the night and encounter something far worse.

"Your 'strength' will betray you if it isn't tempered." Kaito's words carried the sting of truth, his gaze heavy with something unspoken—regret, perhaps.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery landed gracefully, her violet blade humming at her side as her boots hit the ground with precision. Before her, the figure who had intercepted her stood with an almost casual air, his hand gesturing like he was tipping an invisible hat. The polite veneer of his words did little to mask the palpable tension in the air, but Valery's expression remained calm, her fiery amber eyes locking onto him with unwavering focus.

"Can't say I share your enthusiasm for the day," she replied, her tone steady but laced with a quiet intensity. "But I'm glad I caught your attention."

Her grip on her lightsaber hilt tightened slightly as she studied him — a vibrosword at his hip, a predatory gleam hidden beneath his composed demeanor, and an unmistakable aura steeped in the darkness of the Sith. He was confident, that much was clear, but Valery knew better than to mistake confidence for recklessness. Every threat was taken seriously, and this one demanded her full attention.

Yet, even as she stood ready to face him, she felt the bond with her family resonate within her. Somewhere out there, Kahlil Noble was fighting — strong, steady, and resolute as always. She could feel his presence in the Force, like an unshakable anchor grounding her. Vera was with him too, her daughter's fiery determination adding to the sense of strength that flowed through their connection.

After months of feeling the limitations of her long pregnancy, Valery welcomed the return of her full strength with a quiet gratitude. She would draw on it now, fueled not by arrogance but by the certainty that she was not fighting alone — not here, and not ever.

Her gaze shifted back to the Sith in front of her, her stance poised and ready. "I don't know who you are," she said calmly, her voice cutting through the sounds of battle around them. "But I can't allow you to stand in my way."

Valery stepped forward, the hum of her lightsaber a steady companion to her words. "Because I don't have time for games."

Darth Dacian ​

 

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: MIDRIM >> ADO SECTOR >> EIATTU 6 >> WESTERN FLANK |_.
OBJECTIVE: DEFEND SITH ORDER BLOCKADE |_.
SO: Gerwald Lechner | Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl | Kyorra Pavanos |_.
GA: 17-KR7 "Enigma" | Ko Vuto | Briana Sal-Soren |_.

Naamino’s enthusiasm was rather unexpected and admittedly contagious. After the students were finally released from their briefing, Haro found himself grinning at the Zabrak’s uncharacteristic expression of genuine excitement as they made their way to their fighters. It was the most animated he’d ever seen Naami and he had to admit the dimpled grin looked good on him.

"Ready to turn those nerf-herders into scrapyard junk?"

Haro offered a casual salute in response before he slipped his helmet on and settled into the cockpit of his fighter, running his pre-flight check with practiced ease. The truth was, he’d never actually been in one of these particular ships before but he felt more at home here, in the pilot’s seat, than anywhere else in the galaxy. Well, almost anywhere else. He smiled fondly at the strength he found in the memory of someone very special to him, someone who felt like home, someone who believed in him. Bodie crawled out from one of the pockets of Haro’s flight suit, reminding the young pilot that he was not alone. His trusty little droid leapt up onto the dashboard, plugging itself into the fighter’s main interface.

His many years as a shipyard mechanic, the adventures and challenges he’d faced in the years after he’d left that life behind, and the advanced simulators he’d been practicing with at the academy had prepared him well for this moment. All that did little to settle the nerves that soured his stomach though. This would be the greatest test he had faced since enrolling in Kor’eythr Academy, and he’d only been a student for a few weeks. He couldn’t afford for this to go poorly, he knew. He needed to impress his superiors and he needed his squadron to trust him. Was he equal to the task? Could he do what needed to be done when the time came? In response to his self-doubt, he felt something… something beyond any one thing or feeling. Something that filled the spaces between all things, something that seemed to offer to guide his way through this. Something that felt like home.

Soon enough, Kor’ethyr squadron peeled out of the Last Light’s hanger bay and fell into formation. The vast void of space, a sea of star-smattered blackness, stretched out before them. The sight never failed to enrapture Haro and he knew in his bones that would never change. That feeling was tempered by the dread that settled over him when looking upon the battle playing out just ahead.

"How're we doin' crew? Let's make sure we keep formation. And new kid, don't be afraid to ask for backup,” Naami’s voice crackled through the comms, bringing a mischievous grin back to Haro’s face. So he fancied himself squad leader then, since Kivah wasn’t here to put him in his place? Haro wasn’t the least bit surprised. The boy seemed to be constantly vying for a position of command over his peers.

"Yeah, formation's tight, I've got my eyes peeled." A new voice joined in – feminine, focused and fiery. Haro had only just met Kyorra during the briefing. She certainly seemed to have the confidence but could she back it up with skill? He would find out soon enough.

“Good thinking, squad leader.” Haro teased. “That way, when I’m flying circles around you, you can at least claim you backed me up.”

He realized he hadn’t heard a check in from Naami’s cathar co-pilot yet. “You good, Micah? Naami's head isn't taking up too much of the cockpit, I hope.”

It was then his radar began pinging “enemy” fighters and all thoughts of playful banter drained from him along with what little color was left in his extraordinarily pale complexion. Those little red dots weren’t just code in a simulation, they were very real living people. His hands were clammy as they gripped the controls, his knuckles white. The blaster trigger on the yolk suddenly felt hot beneath his fingers but he resisted the urge to pull away. He glanced out the side of his viewport at his wing-mates, the reality of his predicament really starting to sink in, like a stone settling in the pit of his stomach. He focused his sights ahead, taking a steadying breath, his expression settling into one of pure determination. He could do this.
​

 

[Vynara Rylthar]

5th Fleet
Western Flank
Engaging Enemy Harrower Class Vessel

​

On the western space front, 5th fleet would struggle and toil to grind the Sith blockade. They had been at it for days now, engaging enemy frigates and smaller battle groups. Vynara found herself with a fleet short on munitions, having depleted 50% or more of their magazines thus far in the conflict. She'd already had a hull breach, lost two officers, and a dozen crew.

But as the day was long, the 5th fleet, a small flotilla of two Madine Class Frigates (Stalwart Spear; Vigilant Star) and a Single Annaxes Guided Missile Cruiser (ANS Resolute Dawn) would carry out their duty.

When Enigma ( 17-KR7 "Enigma" ) had spoken over the Strategic Channel, Captain Cortan, and Vynara had been listening. Her XO, and Captain of her flagship Resolute Dawn, turned to consult her at the tactical holotable.

"We can take the harrower."

The two had developed a kind of shorthand between them. More and more she found herself trusting her XO's decisions. He'd started as a rookie Captain only six short standard cycles ago.

He'll make a fine fleet Commander one day.​

"I agree. We'll need to punch through any screening fighters and deliver a blow hard enough to knock her shields."

Cortan nodded.

"We use the Pulse Ion Missiles first."

She nodded.

"Let's dump the last of our concussion missiles. It'll help break the screen. Second wave Ion Pulse."

"Aye."

Within minutes, they began to break away from the main line on their attack approach. A surgical strike and then a retreat to friendly lines.

We need a refit, bad.​

"Comms ask Jedi Ko Vuto to join us in taking out the Harrower. XO, dispatch all wings in his support."

"Aye aye."

Both frigates sailed abreast of each other by five hundred meters followed by the Resolute Dawn, centered like a Y at the same distance but backwards. Shields, blazed blue and lances of red and green smashed into them, causing flashes and arcs of energy to ripple across their bows.

From the hangars of the flotilla a single flight of twelve T-65 X-Wings and six Y-Wings joined the fray, formations on the hunt like birds in patterned formation.

"T-Minus two minutes to optimum engagement range."

"Copy."

Her hands gripped the rails of the command table, displaying white knuckles. Udner her molars she mashed a piece of stim gum, watching the tactical dsiplay with the eyes of a hawk.

Fights on....​

 

[Astrid pentoghast]

Objective 3
Enemy tag: Kahlil Noble @open
Items/weapons: liber infernalis
| 4 lightsabers on belt from different dead force sensitives

The sorceress found herself on another battlefield fighting for the sith cause to show the galaxy how powerful the sith are by conquest, war, and death. Against and enemy they've fought for thousands of years history repeating itself like a bad bloody play where everyone lost in the end. History was a glorious thing to learn from every sith empire claimed to be different but they all ended up losing. Do to what Astrid had seen happen the cracks had begun to show as she walked towards the capital building a red curved hilt lightsaber in her hand as she deflected blaster bolts.

As she watched the barrier go up she sensed the force from it as blaster bolts hit it and dissipated but it started from the ground she smiled. Extending her force sense the nightsister sensed what the golems where doing it was an amazing thing the jedi had done stone being meant for defense that ran off the force instead of an energy source. She respected it all the while deflecting blaster fire that was aimed at her she began walking towards the barrier killing alliance troopers who got in her way or that tried to in futility kill her.

She would be within view of kahlil as she looked over the shield around the citadel and the golems that projected it she would have praised him for such a creation if they hadn't found themselves at such opposite sides. The zabrak sith began to approach the barrier as a jedi strike group attacked Astrid the nightsister weaved a combination of sith and nightsister magic as the jedi charged green shadowy tendrils shot out of the ground.

Entangling the 4 jedi as green necrotic energy filled their veins as they screamed in pain as their skin turned the color of charcoal and their veins looked like fire through their skin as they where changed into walking zombies empowered by dathomiri and sith powers. Under astrids ckmplete control she willed them to charge their own men with unnatural speed even for a jedi as they ripped apart alliance soldiers easily with their bare hands as the zombified jedi screamed out in rage. Astrid continued forward as the zombies ripped apart beings that got close to her the zombies cloaks and armor got quickly covered in blood.

 

[The Red]

"Why would I leave when I'm having so. Much. Fun."

Every strike now was brought with the full force of his strikes. His body was filled with the Force, with rage and joy in equal measures. And he wasn't slowing. The advantage of this corpse body and the Zabrak's mastery of the Force was that he never tired now. Sleep was an illusion, not that the Red seemed to mind or care. More hours to do more things.

His grin widened, as unnatural as it seemed for it to, as Azurine reached out for the flame. As she tried to manipulate the fires he brought to existence. The red they were shifted to a deep purple. They fed off the Force itself, and now with her touch, the color of the burning Force shown right through. And lashed out towards her instead.

"You seem to misunderstand something, though, Miraluka Jedi." The emptiness of the Sith suddenly filled out. His focus on keeping his presence in the Force stamped down to an atomic level much like the other Assassins Aadihr had met was gone. And now, he was an overwhelming force of nature. Lightning crackled along his limbs between strikes, absorbed by the steel of his blade before he struck again. This time, lightning cracked out of the blade, an explosion of sparks with each strike.

"You're not going to wear me out! Fight! Strike! Use that spite of yours and attack me!"

Azurine Varek | Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | confiscated slugthrower rifle

The first arc of lightning jumped from the blade, around Aadihr's pike and into his forearm; searing trails of pain engraved into him. Even as the charge dissipated, another strike caused another arc and another painful scorch, the smell of burned linen and flesh accompanying the rapid sounds of the whirring blades and staff collisions.

Azzie had made no headway, the shell revealed the black-crimson of its aura, so full to bursting it almost ate the force radiation around it in its darker-than-black hue. The sith was right, it seemed. Attrition would not serve him.

Aadihr moved his grip to the center of the pike's mass to more deftly wield with one hand, using his off-hand to Deflect the secondary lightning away and stop the pain.

A core memory of his youth rang through him. He hadn't fought to improve, for recreation, or for hatred back then.

He fought to stop the pain.

Then everything began to fester. The Sith acknowledging his own realization churned bile in his gut. Aadihr's frustration grew as he had to maneuver more to compensate for the single handed pike and open palm deflection.

Spite? The corpse wanted to see spite? Aadihr could oblige him.

Aadihr spat at the Zabrak's eye and slashed at his knees, following through with a sweep kick in the same motion.

The Red | Azurine Varek​

 

[Gil Horn]

Location: Eiattu | Citadel
Tags: Credius Nargath

​

Gil Horn arrived at the outer perimeter of the embattled city aboard a battered Alliance transport, the air thick with smoke and the reverberations of artillery. The young Jedi Knight stood silently for a moment, the green light of his saberstaff casting a faint glow across the scarred ground as he surveyed the carnage. His black robes flapped in the wind, the black glove covering his mechanical hand clenched tightly. This was no mere skirmish; it was a massacre.

The distant scream of a dying soldier pulled Gil's attention toward the Citadel. His connection to the Force rippled with the oppressive weight of the Dark Side. He could sense the presence of a powerful Sith, no, many Sith, but one in particular stood out, a presence cold and ravenous, like a void that consumed everything around it. The Lord of Hunger.

Gil had heard the stories of the being, and the presence he felt in the Force matched the terrors that the few survivors had told him of.

Gil activated his communicator, his tone calm yet resolute. "Alliance command, this is Jedi Knight Gil Horn. I've arrived near the Citadel and am moving to reinforce your remaining forces. Hold your position as best you can. Help is on the way."

He didn't wait for a response. Time was precious. Sprinting toward the heart of the chaos, he guided himself with the Force, avoiding collapsing buildings and stray blaster fire. The screams and echoes of battle grew louder, more vivid with each step, until he reached the fringes of the fighting.

Ahead, he saw the Sith contingent; droids advancing with eerie precision, flanked by elite warriors who radiated dark energy. Their path of destruction was clear, as was their goal: the Citadel. Among them stood a towering figure, unmistakable in his power and malice.

Gil took a deep breath and calmed his mind, recalling the teachings of Master Ohognh. Patience. Deliberation. Consideration. He would not rush into the fight blind, no matter the urgency.

Gil's voice rang out once more, cutting through the chaos with defiance and purpose. "Lord of Hunger!" he called, focusing his energy through the Force to amplify his words and ensure they pierced the cacophony of battle. "Is this what you are? A scavenger hiding behind droids and minions, picking at the remains of those too weak to fight back?"

"You hide behind your toys and pawns," Gil continued, stepping forward and spinning his saberstaff in a fluid motion, its green blades casting defiant streaks of light through the smoke. "Come face me, Sith! Or is the great Lord of Hunger too afraid to confront the Light?"

He extended his free hand and unleashed a powerful Force Push, scattering a cluster of droids that had been advancing toward the remaining Alliance forces. The impact sent them clattering into one another, drawing a faint crackle of energy from his mechanical fingers as he reset his stance.

"I'm here, Sith," Gil taunted, his voice calm yet laden with conviction. "If you truly hunger for power, for dominance, then come and fight for it."

 

[Credius Nargath]

The forward march seemed to be going well, as long as his droids would mop up the pockets of resistance, the Lord of Hunger's job was rather simple. He did like these droids build by his great-nephew, certainly these arbalesks weren't as powerfulas the Sceleratii, but they were well-built and had quite the processing power, visible in their tactical abilities, their precision and ofcourse: their ruthless nature.

While dispatching the remainders of the last pocket of resisting Alliance soldiers, a voice being carried on the wind drew Credius' attention. Somewhat perplexed by the sudden roar, the monster's head slowly turned towards the place of the voice's origin, crimson and golden eyes blazing behind the red visors when it became apparent to the Lord of Hunger that there were still some worthy of his attention around in these parts of the capital.

He hadn't been asked nor ordered to participate, but he knew those who were more arrogant and hungry for glory would be taking the vanguard in this assault, Credius on the other hand was more concerned with cleaning up their mess.

"Lord of Hunger!" he called, focusing his energy through the Force to amplify his words and ensure they pierced the cacophony of battle. "Is this what you are? A scavenger hiding behind droids and minions, picking at the remains of those too weak to fight back?"​

Annoyed by this newcomer's obvious taunts, the Lord of Hunger tilted his head ever so slightly without pulling away his glare. Slowly, the Monstrous Sith's hand reached towards the hilt of the Massive red Genesis blade, long and sleek, but drenched in sith alchemy and the blessing powerful mind that had managed to keep this abomination alive. Slowly, the Genesis was pulled from its sheath, the blade's bloodlust becoming apparent, matching that of its owner.

"You hide behind your toys and pawns," Gil continued, stepping forward and spinning his saberstaff in a fluid motion, its green blades casting defiant streaks of light through the smoke. "Come face me, Sith! Or is the great Lord of Hunger too afraid to confront the Light?"

While Credius was contemplating his move, the brazen jedi utilized the force to not just throw quite an amount of the arbalesk droids backwards, but also damage them considerably and in doing so halting the Lord of Hunger's advance. To make matters worse, it seemed that his sceleratii had picked up on the presence of someone he hoped to avoid for now... considering Credius wasn't keen on facing the Jedi Grand Master Valery Noble , it was clear he had to take down this young one before him and to prevent any further nuissances and hindrances to his job.

"Mewling whelp," The Sith Lord's voice was muffled by his mask, but the darkness that seemed to seep out of his voice, the hollow, inhuman nature of it was unmistakable. Dusting off his armor, which had been spattered with dirt and debris by the earlier force push the young jedi had unleashed, the dark lord raised his free hand upwards letting out a soft, yet insanely eerie and foreboding chuckle...

"You talk a big game for someone so..." tilting his head again, this time to the other side, the Lord of Hunger seemed to relish the moment, the silence before the storm, at which point a burst of lightning erupted from the monster's gaintlet, like a sonic boom the streaks of crackling energy tore apart the ground, racing towards the jedi, all the while leaving behind literal scars within the soil. "Outmatched."

TAG: Gil Horn

 

[Ko Vuto]

​

Location: Eiattu 6, Orbit
Objective: 1, All Blocked Up
Tags: 17-KR7 "Enigma" | Vynara Rylthar | Naamino Zuukamano | Micah tol Powl | Kyorra Pavanos | Haro Aven

​

Ko began to get a transmission from the 5th fleet’s flagship. Requesting the Jedi’s help to engage with a Harrower. “Copy that Resolute Dawn.” Ko replied before switching channels to the rest of the squadron.

“This is Storm One, we’ll be aiding the 5th fleet. We’ll provide them with an outer layer of defense against opposing starfighters.” The Kel Dor explained to them. The Force proved to be a good enough compass to lead the Jedi to where he was needed. They were already in the western flank so they weren’t very far at all. “Make sure systems are ready and expect resistance, and my The Force be with you all.” Ko added, offering a little prayer to those who could hear his voice through the comms. It was a tad difficult using a starfighter that didn’t have the space for an astromech droid. Meaning he had to do everything largely independently. Ko made sure to make a mental note to pilot craft with droid assistance in the future. Maneuvering the craft was already challenging in of itself, not to mention punching controls and inputs into the dashboard.

Eventually the squadron of interceptors Ko was paired with arrived into formation with the 5th Fleet. As they got closer to clashing with the enemy he could hear pings of their presence being picked up by the A-Wing’s interceptors. Although he couldn’t see the radar, The Force offered the blind Kel Dor plenty of visual feedback. There wasn’t much to ‘see’ other than all the ships around him and his own position in relation to them in the vacuum of space. Some Sith ships have already engaged friendly fighters.

Ko tightened his grip on the controls as he anticipated the fighting ahead as his squadron moved in to reinforce their allies. “There is no passion… only serenity.” Ko muttered, reminding himself of the code. Easier said than done. But just because it was difficult in such trying times didn’t mean it was impossible. Do or do not, there is no try.

Once Ko sensed he was in range he let loose with his interceptor’s blaster cannons letting The Force guide his accuracy and reflexes. Committing himself to dishing out retributive justice against the Sith here that was oh so Dorin. Just as his ancestors did before him, against a very similar enemy. It seemed as though history had a way of rhyming, like poetry...​

​

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Eiattu
Objective: Defend the citadel
Tag: Quinn Varanin

Then, as if fate willed it the person he felt approaching finally showed herself. Silas, including the captain, turned and glared silently while the lonely figure strolled towards them with caution. She had had no fear of her odds, and before long Quinn was going to level them by turning the fallen into mindless puppets. That sent a shiver through the men, not from the Sith's power but from the fact they had to fight their friends. They barely had time to take in though, especially when they began to fire on their position.

"That's just changed things..." Silas grunted while his name began to be chanted by those controlled by the witch. The sith was trying to strike fear into him, that however wasn't going to be easy. Although quite terrifying, Silas had already seen the worst of life from a young age. He knew how to keep his emotions locked away from those who wished to exploit them, and that was going to be an asset in situations like this.

"Captain, you know what to do," he said without looking at him, one which was replied with a simple nod before rushing away. Silas unhooked the lightsaber from his belt and looked to the Sith with an emotionless glance "As you wish, sprite of death" the knight said coldly, wasting no time to jump from the wall down to the troopers defending the gate. Some had already fallen from their blaster fire, the rest however were still standing strong.

All they could do was fight, their mourning would have to be saved for later.

"Hold the line! The men before you are no longer your friends but your enemies. We must do right is right to survive!" Silas shouted to those around him, causally deflecting away shots being fired at him with his lightsaber. Slowly walking before them, he raised his saber and readied himself for her approach.

He had to remain strong for all of them, no matter how much she stabbed into his mentality.

"Let's play this game shall we?"
​