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

[Darth Prazutis]

The Kainate had come to Eiattu.

Down to the battlelines like falling meteros came a pair of Silooth-class Planetary Invasion Cruisers and Coloi-class Planetary Invasion Carriers. They bathed the city in fire as they crashed down leveling many city blocks and detonating a localized earthquake as the Silooth like the teeth of a great beast burrowed themselves into the surface of the planet. The Coloi seamlessly locked themselves on top creating a pair of defiant pyramids rising high into the battle-soaked skylines, the shields glowing with impacts from weaponry on the battlefield so close to their positions. Out from their dug in positions came an immense hive of droid starfighters, a vast screen over three hundred ships strong that surged to rip down localized defenses on high rise buildings, flying in defensive patterns around the new structures of Eiattu.​

​

Deep below the surface the Derriphanqyâsik began their work in harvesting energy from the surface. Meanwhile the great gates opened and out came the Grand Army of the Kainate. One of the most technologically advanced, disciplined, armies in the known galaxy. Down came waves of tanks, armored carriers and fast-moving war droids. Troops carried in transports moved under the close air support of the fighter droids now fighting across the skies. They were a menacing tide, a wave of destruction bringing annihilation across the battle lines. In short order they'd already caught up to the Sith Empire's positions and began to reinforce them, expanding them across the landscape alongside the Sithspawn Derriphan that devoured everything they touched. Troops exited their transports and established battle lines behind protective barriers, they unleashed fire across the fields. But that wasn't all they brought. Beside them came the ignited blades of the dedicated New Sith, those who pledged themselves to the Eternal Rule.​

​

Then he came.​

​

Across the battlelines he thundered with all the inevitability of a tectonic plate, the heavily armored giant shrouded in a vast, hurricane of dark side energy so thick it manifested into the open air. Darkness closed in and arcs of crimson lightning shot through the air as he moved. In one fell swoop a tank dug in from the defenders shattered into a thousand pieces, cast headlong into the struggling supports of a nearby building that collapsed casting a dust cloud across the field. Silhouetted by the distant pyramid ships he stood, the Dark Lord of the Kainate himself Darth Prazutis. A massive runeblade gripped in one hand, he pointed forward with the other and gave a simple order to the Kainite forces.​

​

"Kill them all."​

​

Nima Torr ​

​

​

​

 

[Azurine Varek]

Together, We Fight As One

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

Azurine’s eyes narrowed, her focus quickly shattered as the flame she had tried to whip towards The Red turned an ominous purple. She felt the searing heat of the whip snap at her, not just on her skin, but in her very essence, as if the Force itself rebelled against her touch. Still, she held firm, her will a bastion against the onslaught. Instead of retreating, she leaned into the storm, drawing strength from the currents of the Force, twisting the flames further to match her indomitable resolve.

Her breath caught, however, as she saw the lightning tear into Aadihr's forearms, each crackling arc a testament to the Sith's unleashed fury. Her heart clenched, watching him flinch under The Red's blasts, his defenses buckling but never breaking and showing a strength she couldn't help but admire. Her grip on her blades tightened, a surge of defiance and unrefined anger igniting in her core. She wasn’t about to stand idly by while her companion—someone she cared for so deeply—was fighting through the onslaught. The storm might rage, but she’d be its reckoning. All thought of herself was gone in that instant.

Planting her feet firmly on the scorched ground, Azzie's mind was a whirlwind of the fire building within her as she reached deep into the Force. Her own connection flared to life like a supernova. She may not be able to manipulate the wall he'd created, but she could sure as hell make her own.

With a sharp exhale, her own blaze ignited beneath her feet, flames erupting with an explosive roar. The heat surged upward, swirling around her in a vortex of light and fury, using her passion—her need to move forward—as her ally to do so. She held her hands forward, and a barrier of the Force enveloped her body, the shimmering, silvery energy shielding her skin from the purple inferno’s ravenous hunger. The pressure beneath her built to a breaking point, the fire spiraling and crackling with kinetic energy.

Then, she launched.

The ground beneath her cracked in her wake as the force of the explosion propelled her forward, through the blaze in her way, faster than the normal eye could track. The world blurred around her, the blazing heat scorching the air as she became a living missile. Azzie's movements were a synthesis of chaos, fierce determination, and anger, her body twisting to maintain control as she hurtled toward her target.

"If you want a fight, then don't you dare turn your back on me!" She yelled, her eyes alight with a purple wildfire of their own.

Azzie aimed to slam into him and hook herself to his back from the side to knock him off of Aadihr’s path, the impact exploding in a resounding crack of kinetic energy. Whether or not she succeeded, she used all of that remaining momentum to flip away to try to snag the curved blade of her hook sword around his weapon arm and pull.

Aadihr Lidos | The Red​

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Caelan Valoren //:
//: Jutrand Uniform - 1st Cohort //:

​

Jutrand dispatched their students, and the weaker castes saw this as an opportunity to prove themselves. If they survived and brought glory to the Empire, they could climb the ranks and better their situation within the elite academy. It was a constant fight and struggle for the students of Jutrand, with no rest. The higher you climbed, the more you had to look over your shoulder. Viers found herself at the bottom of the First Class; she was the worst of the best - but unlike the others, she didn't care. Already, there had been some of the second class who had attempted to take her life, but they were terrible at stealth. Viers recalled the attempt on her life while she napped in a tree after lunch.

Either way, the elitism that came with Jutrand went over the Corellian's head - maybe that was why the others mostly left her alone.

The stern voice of the Sith ordered the students, giving them different tasks to achieve. From the sound of it, anyone in the top 7 was allowed to function as their own group. Seemingly, they were the only ones perceived to be mindful enough to manage themselves against a horde of Jedi.

Again, Viers didn't care about the reasoning behind their assaults or even what she would gain from them. Survival was the most important thing, and maybe she could find something along the field trip to give to Lucy.

Viers squatted nearby, cloaked fully in the Force and her essence drawn inward, making her nothing but a shadow or void to any other Force-sensitives. She watched and gathered information about the small caravan that seemed to be nothing beyond an aid car. Some of Viers felt terrible about what had happened to the innocents caught in the crossfire between the Sith and the Jedi. Though, from her time within the Alliance, she had heard their hypocritical stories, and now, spending time within the Sith Academies, she could see truly how fictitious some of the Alliance's efforts were.

While she figured most had their hearts in the right place, their government was just as corrupt as some Sith Lord of old. Shrugging, Viers had her mission, and she would complete it and then go home. This was nothing to write Lucy about.

As she watched, Viers found herself watching a youngling walk around and try to organize the injured. He tried but didn't carry the command of other Jedi she knew. She continued to watch him run back and forth doing his duties. It was unfortunate for the boy; she could see he had already found misfortune. The moment she saw it, she cringed, and with a silent oof, the boy's mangled face made him quite hideous. One would think that the Jedi, having their mystical good guy force powers, would be able to make him hot like the other ones.

No wonder he was out in the backwood trying to heal the sick. Gotta keep the front line spicy and attractive. Guess that's how they recruit the stupids. Viers thought quietly to herself. Standing still, protected by the Force Cloak, she dusted herself off and prepared to wreak havoc. But not a lot because sick people need to heal, and she wasn't that evil.

Digging in her uniform's pocket, she pulled out the makeshift slingshot. Viers crept along the line of the sick till she was nearly behind the boy. Kneeling down, she grabbed some pebbles and began to slingshot the pebbles at the back of his head.

Her goal was to draw him away from the people and anyone who would protect him. She was bored, and it was her mission to interrupt any aid the Jedi were attempting to give. Who knows, maybe if she chased off the Jedi, she could pass out their supplies and make it seem like the Empire were the true heroes.

Such a silly thought, and the Corellian snickered silently in her cloak of shadows.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Eiattu VI
Unremarkable Abandoned Street, Outside the Palace Landing Strip
- Darth Imperius - Eloise Dinn -​

"Seriously, who came up with that helmet? You look like your name is Darth Frostbite or some chit."

"Well, I'd hope I could come up with a better title than that, should the necessity arise." There was the slightest of humor, and gratefulness, in his voice, unmistakable through the garble of his modulator. The helm was an Alicio original, though he declined to mention it in the moment. "Then again, maybe not. I am terrible at naming things."

He, too, eventually saw their opponent approaching, backed by a contingent of armored troopers. It would be near impossible for the two of them to defeat them all in a fair fight. So Eloise did the smart thing, and decided to drop a building on them.

Alicio nodded at her plan, turning to step into the center of the street. He stopped there, in full view of the approaching Sith forces, dark cape catching a breeze and fluttering behind him. "Stay close, and don't play to win. We're buying time."

He watched on in muted silence as his wife's Padawan weakened the structural supports of a nearby skyscraper, and brought it down on the approaching column. Rubble crashed to the earth, kicking up dust and splinters, tossing the horned man's cape back with the windforce. Eloise was... incredible. Not for the first, or last time today, Alicio was glad to have her at his side.

After the building dropped, Alicio let his presence in the Force shine brighter, toward where he saw the approaching Sith last. Sure, their enemy could turn away from the call, help his soldiers... but was he really the type to refuse a challenge?

Come get us.

 

[Jonyna Si]

​

TAG: Aris Noble Darth Carnifex Domina Prime

"It's my grandfather, isn't it?"

"Yes." She said calmly, watching the dragons crash into evacuated buildings, as well as the recon craft. It was a mastery of the Force that kept her alive, and allowed her to strike back. Still, she knew better than to put faith in the wishful thinking that the crash of such mounts would also kill their riders. "I want you to stay safe. We work as a team, alright? I don't want them to isolate us."

She could only hope of that. With how little time they had to train, they weren't exactly a well oiled machine.

And she knew the monster would be looking for it's descendants. Looking to manipulate him. She couldn't let that happen.

And yet, she knew it probably would. Still, she'd try her damndest. First came the dragon, and-

There was Domina Prime. The damned menace that seemed content to be an anarchist at every opportunity, a crazed mandalorian that made Carduul Akahl look like the pinnacle of sanity.

"Ya know, kitten..." Domina drawled, her tone teasing, "People are gonna start talking if you keep making it your life's work to chase This One down. If you've got a crush on Prime, just say so~."

"Sorry cutie, but you'll need to talk to Jenn Kryze first. I might share, but I don't think she does." Jonyna shot back, drawing Liz in one hand, and Lucy in the other. "Now, if you don't mind..."

Jonyna paused, her eyes staring the xeno down as suddenly the air once more stirred, as Jonyna drew the humidity, every bit of water out of the air she could, then pushing it right at Dima. It only amounted to about a gallon or so, but enough to stun the beast she hoped as she charged forward.

"Sit."

She saw in the corner of her eye, The Monster come down and challenge her padawan.

She knew this would happen. The two, facing down two of the biggest single threats in the galaxy, simultaneously. She couldn't trust Aris to win against the monster alone. Not out of lack of faith in her padawan, but because she wouldn't trust anyone to face him down alone. Herself included.

She needed to keep an eye on that. An eye on both of them. One wrong move could spell disaster.

The wind stirred again, as she tried to focus on gaining the advantage. Gaining the power of nature. The swamps surrounding the city would act as a source of power for her, drawing as much water as she could to form a storm. She just needed time...

 

[Darth Dacian]

Wearing

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

The air between them crackled with anticipation, the chaos of battle around them fading into a dull roar as Dacian focused solely on the Jedi before him. His heart stirred with a long-forgotten excitement, a flicker of something beyond the endless cycle of duels that had become little more than routine. How long had it been since he faced an opponent whose strength left the outcome uncertain? The many Sith and Jedi heads that adorned his proverbial mantle were just warmups, fleeting exercises to keep his skills sharp. This, however— felt different.

"I don't know who you are either, but I'd like to get to know you." A smile twisted upon his face, the one opened eye crimson in its shine. His hand moved across his body, the palm of it resting just a space above the hilt of his vibrosword. Before he could do anything, however, that smile on his face disappeared. A half-second later, his hand flew to his forehead in a self-effacing slap, the sound drowned by the constant blaster fire and explosion around them. 'Ah, that's right, I forgot to introduce myself!' Dacian exclaimed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he shook his head at his own lapse. His posture straightened as he gave her a bow, introducing himself as he did so.

"I am Darth Dacian, or just Dacian if you prefer." His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a smirk. "And I issue my challenge."

"As for games, I assure you this is a very serious matter. And if you're short on time you better do your best to cut me down. Because I am not about to pass up this opportunity." Those words were meant to stir some aggression within his Jedi opponent, a twisted way to ensure she fought him at her fullest. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his weapon, the air thick with unspoken intent. Dacian's gaze never wavered from the Jedi, his excitement palpable. The duel was about to begin, and for the first time in years, he felt the unfamiliar thrill of uncertainty—and he welcomed it.

He would say no more words, the hand hovering above the hilt of his vibrosword ready to draw with a master's precision at a moment's notice.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Alicio Organa | Eloise Dinn​

Urban warfare was one of the most intense experiences a soldier could make, it was not as narrow as fighting in tunnels or corridors, but far more chaotic, violence was narrowed down to existential survival and every time a hand reached around a corner or into a room, the defender had a chance to hack it right off. The Alliance troops were not stupid, they were in fact quite well trained, at least some of them. And they were lead by Jedi.

Darth Imperius' Legion advanced on a width of about ten blocks, scouring every building, every cellar and some units even had lowered themselves into the underground where they pushed on like rats through the sewers of the capital. Every step forward was earned with blood, sweat and steel as well as pure determination and willpower. The Sith soldiers fought to triumph, fought to conquer. They were eager and well trained. And they were led by Sith.

The Dark Lord himself coordinated and led from the very front, the red blade of his unstable lightsaber blocking incoming blaster fire, his off-hand, fingers clad in segmented plates, pointed into directions where his black-armoured stormtroopers would have to attack towards. The methodical and tactically sound approach was coordinated by him, steering units and issuing commands as they advanced, his lieutenants of the Extremis Chamber enforcing his will in person among his soldiers.

It was a ruse though. Darth Imperius had shifted the weight of his attacks to a park where the Alliance had entrenched itself with artillery and tanks that were pounding the entire flank of the assault. While he maneuvered the Legion to assault them with the majority of its force, he and a single company worked their way towards the unoccupied street below the citadel and the resistance they met was minimal to non-existent.

Alliance soldiers and Jedi had fallen in his way today, his blade having tested their flesh and he was thirsting for more. But more than that, he was thirsting for victory. With satisfaction he noticed the arrival of the Grand Army and the Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis on his HUD, it now became a matter of time, not chance anymore that they would claim triumph once more.

As he rushed forward, he noticed figures far ahead, two. One seemed busy until the other did something. He immediately felt the sense of danger, not from them, but following their actions. His view shot to his side as he saw how she cracked pillars in the instable building to bring it down on him and his company. He issued no verbal warning but his mind-impulse send an order to the troops to immediately fall back while he started sprinting forwards.

The two figures would see how the building came crashing down, probably taking a few of dark armored stormtroopers with them, but it put the entire street and beyond into dust and dirt, a cloud rapidly expanding as it rushed through the streets. The noise of falling concrete and durasteel was immense, though not quite overshadowing the sounds of battle in the background.

At the edge of the cloud and much closer to the ones who were responsible, they could suddenly see a red hue as Darth Imperius advanced towards them. His lightsaber ignited as he approached, his red tabard almost entirely grey as it was caked in fine particles of house, the dark armor equally in need of a polish as he seemed now more like a dust-born demon. His hand was extended towards them. A challenge?

No. From behind him a storm of debris, small concrete shatters, pieces of steel, glass and anything else that the building had produced in its fall, came hurling at alarming speeds towards them and everything around and behind them. The Dark side pulsated around Darth Imperius as it seemed to swallow life and light to allow dread to spread in its place. His presence was a cold menace that was here to kill and he had set his sights on the two in front of him who dared the challenge.

 

[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 Vynara Rylthar

​

The battle raged on, the void of space alive with the crisscrossing fire of turbolasers and the flaring of shields under relentless impacts. Enigma stood motionless on the bridge of the Vengeance of Alderaan, her crimson visor pulsing faintly as her processors churned through the latest data. The remains of the Harrower drifted aimlessly now, a shattered hulk amid the chaos of battle. The 5th Fleet and its supporting Jedi-led strike groups were handling the last vestiges of its fighter screens and the corpse of the Harrower effectively, their cohesion commendable even under the strain of prolonged combat, their efforts imperative to the complete and utter destruction of the command ship.

Her attention shifted. The tactical display updated in real time, showing Alliance starfighters swarming to intercept the Sith reinforcements. The Sith's scrambled fighter squadrons moved to engage, but without the centralized coordination of the destroyed Harrower, their formations were disorganized, their efficiency reduced. The battlefield was fracturing, and while this presented opportunities for targeted strikes, Enigma saw the potential for something greater: a shift in momentum that could lure the Sith commanders into exposing their strategies.

"Fleet Captain Karras," Enigma said, her voice smooth and deliberate, cutting through the hum of the bridge. "Order a general assault on the Sith blockade. Full fleet engagement. Prioritize aggressive maneuvers across all vectors."

Karras turned to her, brow furrowed. "A general assault? We risk overcommitting."

"Negative," she replied, her tone devoid of hesitation. "The assault is not intended to secure immediate victory but to force the Sith fleet commanders into reactive posturing. Their operational responses will expose secondary vulnerabilities. Maintain staggered formations and reserve strike groups for opportunistic targeting."

Karras held her gaze for a moment before nodding. "Understood. Relay the orders."

The bridge buzzed with activity as officers relayed Enigma's commands to the fleet. Ships moved into coordinated formations, their engines flaring as they surged toward the Sith blockade. The tactical display reflected the escalation, Alliance ships unleashing a storm of firepower to press the attack. Despite their limited resources, the Alliance forces moved with renewed purpose, emboldened by their earlier successes.

Enigma's processors continued to analyze the battlefield, but her focus shifted momentarily to a data feed from the Eastern front. Sith transport ships, marked with transponder codes indicating heavy troop deployments, were slipping past the Eastern blockade. Their destination was clear: Eiattu 6. The transports were escorted by cloaked vessels, their presence betrayed only by faint anomalies in the battle meditation-enhanced formations of the Sith fleet.

Her visor pulsed as she considered the implications. The transports would bolster Sith ground forces on Eiattu 6, further complicating the planetary theater. Yet, without sufficient assets in the Eastern sector, she was unable to mount a direct interception.

"Note the arrival of Sith transport convoys on the Eastern front," she said, addressing the communications officer. "Transmit their projected trajectories and arrival estimates to Alliance Command. Recommend heightened planetary defenses and reallocation of Jedi-led ground strike teams to counter their deployment, note that if we manage to slice through the blockade, not only will we be able to send in guaranteed relief, but we will be able to provide orbital fire support to ground forces."

The officer hesitated but complied, relaying the data as Enigma continued her evaluation. The presence of these transports reinforced a critical reality: the Sith blockade was not merely a defensive measure. It was a strategic maneuver designed to enable long-term dominance over Eiattu 6 and the Sanctuary Pipeline. The battle in space was only a prelude to the larger campaign unfolding below.

Returning her focus to the Western front, Enigma observed the Sith fleet's response to the general assault. As predicted, their commanders were scrambling to consolidate their lines. Sith capital ships shifted into defensive formations, their smaller vessels moving to reinforce weakened sectors. The coordination was deliberate but reactive, betraying a lack of foresight amidst the pressure.

"Fleet Captain," she said, her voice cutting through the din once more. "Focus artillery on their auxiliary command frigates. Targeting coordinates uploaded. Force disruption in their chain of command. Secondary strike groups are to exploit any gaps that emerge in their formation."

Karras nodded, issuing the orders with practiced efficiency. Around them, the Vengeance of Alderaan unleashed another salvo of turbolaser fire, its weapons zeroing in on the designated command frigate. Across the fleet, similar patterns emerged as Alliance ships redirected their firepower to isolate and weaken the Sith's cohesion.

Enigma turned her attention inward for a moment, her processors recalculating the battle's trajectory. The Sith were formidable, their reliance on oppressive tactics and dark-side-enhanced strategy creating a pervasive sense of dread on the battlefield. Yet, Enigma saw their strength for what it was: a veneer of control, exploitable by precision and adaptability.

"This engagement will not determine the fate of Eiattu 6," she said softly, more to herself than to those around her. "But it will fracture the illusion of their invincibility." To who's invincibility she referenced, was not known.

 

[Vynara Rylthar]

​

5th Fleet
Western Flank
Engaging Enemy enemy escorts
Location: Sith fleet line, near destroyed Harrower Cruiser

​

The Harrower cruiser was shattered under the combined heavy ordinance of several flights of Y-Wings. Before they could even let a salvo off, large chunks of the blasted and twisted frame began to buffet their ray shields, causing a rapid drop.

"Shields falling!"

Vynara grunted, "Hold Course."

Captain Cortan turned back to the table.

"Jedi Ko has joined our formation. We have our wing on his six."

"Excellent." Her eyes roved in sync with her XO's as her ears picked up the new targeting information coming over the strategic channel. 17-KR7 "Enigma" had identified another flash point and shifted the fleet accordingly. From the view port of the bridge she could see the beams of blue. red and white as they fell upon the enemy command ship like a typhoon.

Cortan and Vynara exchanged a brief glance, transferring information between their brown eyes as if they were droids. No speaking was required. As the deck rumbled beneath their feet, vibrations telegraphing the impact of rounds and debris on their failing shields, Cortan was already on the move.

"Gunnery, belay last, redirect firing solutions to enemy Frigates."

At the Gunnery terminal, Ensign Latva, a Twi'lek from the rim snapped her fingers across the touch screens. With expert precision she realigned their firing arcs, coordinating with the Comms, and Helm Officer to bring them into optimum firing position.

Vynara understood the tactics at play,. and offered no redirection, allowing her Junior Officers to operate at the lowest level.

This is a well oiled machine.​

Their confidence, and their competence while under heavy rain emboldened her. She felt a warmth spread through her chest and down her limbs. A serenity came over her, as she slipped into a second wind, focused like a laser. She could only identify the feeling as large wave of pride. If her fleet could do this without her constant input, it was an indication she was succeeding in her job.

Win wars. Produce quality Officers for the fleet.​

The Comms Officer opened a local channel, tying in their X-Wing flights. Y wing flights and Ko Vuto .

"This is Resolute Dawn Six to Storm One, we are shifting fire to secondary escorts. Targeting data beaming to you now."

Now it was the Dawns turn to answer the enemy fire. Across their bow, small plates slid back to reveal the inky black bores of their missile tubes. They would not remain dark, as the tubes disgorged a salvo of thirty or so Concussion missiles, brilliant emerald contrails contrasting against the black.

Vynara kept her eyes glued to her terminal, now ignoring the tac holo.

Shields at less than half. Concussion missiles to zero. Breach on deck four, sealed. Hull at seventy percent integrity.....
​

In her head she was keeping a running tally of their status, weighing the advantage of pressing the attack against the duty to retreat and preserve her command, looking for the oppurtune moment to refit.

This has to count. We have to make a dent.
A few more hits. Just a few more.​

The missile volley now spiraled and corkscrewed out into a massive field before angling back in, bearing down towards a single point on the enemy Frigate, where the Guided Missile Crusier had placed her targetting laser, hungry to unleash it's powerfull payload....

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIP: Lightsaber
COMPANION: Fate
TAGS: Viers Connory

It wasn't the best, him being the only Jedi assigned to come out and help. They really could have used additional assistance. But everything was spread thin and there was still combat ongoing so it wasn't really surprising that he was there alone. The older padawans and the knights and masters would take on the most dangerous of tasks and the ones like this would fall to those like him. Or, at least, that was the way it should be. He hadn't really paid that much attention to it all.

He was in the middle of doing his best to heal some wounds on a small child when he felt something hit him in the back of the head. At first he ignored it because, well, could have been anything. Could have been a bird dropping a stone, even. When it happened again, he turned around to look, but frowned when he saw nothing. He didn't feel anything either.

"Fate? You see anything?" he asked his droid companion.

The little droid searched across the area behind him. "Bwoo-vrrt! Dwee-dwo dwoo-dweep beep-bwoo-vrrt."

"Me either, that's the problem."

Someone was definitely responsible for the pebbles hitting the back of his head, but neither of them could spot them. That was curious because the droid had scanners and sensors far beyond what Caelan could see or feel himself. If someone was out there that could fool the sensors on his droid friend, well, that was a problem. But, he didn't really have time to deal with it, especially since all they were doing was shooting pebbles at his head. Annoying, slightly painful, but not enough to take him from his work.

"Watch for more pebbles in the air, Fate. Try and track their trajectory."

"Bwoop-dweet!"

Instead, he turned back to the child and continued to work on healing their wounds. He wasn't the best healer, so it was a slow going process. Fate would try and track stones flying through the air and get an approximate idea of location of the perpetrator. They might be hidden within the wood, and the Force itself, but the stones weren't.

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJ 3: Capital Gains
Tag: Kaito Starfall

Fighting in the war-torn streets of the Capital City, Ettiau

The figure was a gifted duelist—fluid and efficient, with an impeccable economy of motion. Minimal effort rendered, minimal strength required. Cold and calculated, there was no emotion; he fought more like a Jedi than Diogo did.

The green-haired boy might've smirked, relishing a fight with a worthy opponent, but there was a problem—this albino ass moof-milker wouldn't stop yapping.

"Is this what they teach you now?" Kaito murmured, "To rush into battle like a blind storm?"

Before Diogo could respond, a sharp sting blossomed on his wrist. Despite the initial pain, it was surprisingly harmless. Annoying, though, which was frustrating as hell.

"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."

"You're currently invading the system, deliberately targeting densely-populated urban areas, you draw your weapon on me first, and I'm supposed to think peace is an option here? Do you hear your own fethin' bullchit?"

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.

Diogo dropped to his knee after the blade grazed him. The masked figure circled around him, still flapping his gums in a vain attempt to taunt, which provided the boy with ample time to collect himself.

There was an ominous chill in the air that made Diogo shiver. Was it the night? Or was the icy source this figure, whose gaze was piercingly harsh like the bitter winds of winter? Diogo sighed, craving Niamos and its midsummer warmth.

"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.

There was no point in providing an answer; Diogo didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Maybe he was trying to prove something. Was he supposed to be ashamed of that? Fine, add pride to his queue of never ending self-inflicted problems.

Diogo slowly rose. "You speak like you're familiar with being a Jedi. Why is that?"

"Your 'strength' will betray you if it isn't tempered."

"Strength," he repeated to himself, as though it was a trigger word meant to awaken him. Right, enough of this prissy Makashi chit. "Let's see if you can handle real strength, then."

With a blue blur of motion, Diogo spun his lightsaber, and entered a Djem So stance. With blade held high, he pressed forward with powerful strikes and parries, using his raw muscular strength with each blow. If it came to it, Diogo would use the Force to strengthen himself further, stretching himself beyond his normal limits, but it wasn't necessary... yet.

His patience was wearing thin, though.

 

[Sazo Vass]

Tags: Darth Malum of House Marr
Objective: Hold the Capital City
Equipment: Talionis | Jiub, The Akk Dog

Imperial Citadel, Capital City, Eiattu

Sazo's mind spinning as she soaked in her situation. She had- based on intelligence- assumed she was on the outskirts of the advancing Sith Legions. That was the rationale for charging her with hit-and-run tactics, confusing and harassing the army.

Imagine her surprise as she ran into- literally!- fresh, advancing units. They weren't just of the First Legion- it was a mix of assembled soldiers.

And for the second time, Sazo was separated from Jiub, albeit in a less violent manner. She rolled with the fall, drawing Talionis with one breath, batting a blaster bolt into the skull of it's sender. Following that, Sazo let out a roar, intending to scatter the men and give herself from breathing room. And it did to an extent, but some...some of them were Force sensitives.

One of them advanced, drawing a vibro-blade. The others...didn't. Why?

'Options, Lord Talion?', Sazo mentally projected to the ancestor spirit within her Force-imbued blade as she took an Ataru stance, then surged forward.

Talion, mercifully quiet thus far, chimed in. 'Nothing good, youngling. I sense...darkness around you. You have no support. You'll have to fight your way out of this one.'

Sazo snorted, then nearly lost her balance as the soldier attempted to pull her legs from under her with the Force. 'Of course, gods forbid it's easy.'

'Careful youngling', Talion warned. 'I sense someone nearby. Someone powerful. Whatever happens, however it happens...it goes through him.'

Sazo, tapping into the Force for strength, staggered the soldier with a parry then drove her blade into his chest, then looked into the distance, probing the Force. In a sea of darkness there was...

...Yes.

She could make out a figure. Masked, clad in armor with rubies, wielding a truly terrifying blade.

That was her opponent.

Sazo stepped over the cooling body of her opponent, and summoned Jiub back to her side. Firmly on the akk dog's back, they began the arduous race across the battlefield, fighting desperately to stay alive the whole way.

 

[Kaito Starfall]

Diogo Talon

"You speak like you're familiar with being a Jedi. Why is that?"

" Think boy. "
Kaito stated simply, his voice calm yet cutting, the tone of an instructor. His blade remained steady, unmoving for the briefest of moments.

It was clear he could have done real damage in the preceding exchanges. Several opportunities had presented themselves, openings where a fully powered blade could have turned this contest into a swift and brutal conclusion. Yet Kaito refrained, his restraint deliberate, almost surgical.

Kaito's piercing gaze never left Diogo's, his icy blue eyes locked on the boy's with an intensity that felt almost suffocating. There was no emotion there, no anger or satisfaction—only calculation, the look of a man whose focus dissected every movement, and every mistake.

His stance shifted subtly, the transitions fluid, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. It was an avant-garde display of pragmatism, a blend of Soresu's defensive poise and the acrobatic infusion of Ataru. Every step, every feint, was a trap, leveraging speed and mobility to exploit Djem So's inherent weaknesses. Kaito's movements were designed to lure the Padawan into overcommitting, turning the raw power of Diogo's strikes into liabilities.

When the boy pressed forward with another powerful blow, Kaito pivoted sharply, his saber arcing to meet the attack just enough to redirect its force. The maneuver created an opening—a fleeting window—but Kaito did not exploit it for a decisive counter. Instead, he stepped back, his blade humming in readiness, inviting Diogo to keep coming.

"Your strength is admirable," Kaito said evenly, his tone devoid of mockery.

Another feint, another redirection. Diogo's powerful strikes met air more often than not. Kaito's footwork was a dance of calculated efficiency, every step designed to keep him just out of reach, forcing the Padawan to overexert himself.

"Djem So is powerful, but its strength becomes a weakness when you overextend. What will you do when your opponent doesn't break?"

Kaito's voice softened, the reprimand taking on a reflective, almost pitying edge. It was clear he wasn't just testing the boy's skill—he was deliberately pushing Diogo's patience, prodding at the boundaries of his composure. There was no sign of underestimating the Padawan's abilities, only careful observation, every motion calculated to keep the masked figure's full attention locked on the boy.

The situation just wouldn't make sense. Sith didn't wield sabers that weren't crimson. They didn't restrain their emotions; they used them as fuel. And they certainly didn't show mercy. Yet here was this masked figure, calm and controlled, holding back when he had every chance to strike.

The distant roar of collapsing rubble broke the silence, Kaito's head snapping toward the noise. It was the smallest lapse, but it was all the Padawan needed.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Allies: Naamino Zuukamano Gerwald Lechner Haro Aven Kyorra Pavanos
Enemies: Ko Vuto Briana Sal-Soren 17-KR7 "Enigma"
[ lightsaber ] [ com-scan link ] [ medkit ]

[ post theme ]​

"You good, Micah? Naami's head isn't taking up too much of the cockpit, I hope."

The cat just blinked.

The sass.

He liked sass. "Now this guy I like," the boy offered, not responding through the com-net but instead looking over at the Iridonian who was supposed to be handling the valet parking for this flying deathtrap they were presently shoved into.

"...who is that, again?"

Yes, he should pay attention to these things. No, he hadn't actually bothered to learn anyone's names. At the time, it hadn't seemed relevant. But, in retrospect, at least the one wingman seemed interesting.

Given that the cat wasn't flying, it allowed him to keep his attention on the target board. As such, he caught when the Alliance formation moved out. "Mreow! Interceptors coming in," he announced over the com-net.

Privately, to Naami, he noted, "Angling the deflectors." He didn't bother with indicating the direction. Naami would have seen them and the cat was ready to make adjustments to power levels and deflector screens as the Zabrak... well... did whatever he was going to do.

Fly whatever he was going to fly?

Whatever. This was dumb. They had droids for this kind of work!

 

[Nima Torr]

Here marched the boots of war, drummed to life on the sacrifices of the many, willing and not, their blood and tears brought upon an altar of smoke and ash, where even the sun did not linger, banished by unnatural deeds and bindings of sorcery that tainted the very air. Every blaster bolt bloomed in the darkness that cloaked the city; their touch of death spread upon those bound to the cursed city of Eaittu, each another sacrifice left with a trace of smoke and the smell of life burnt to a cinder.

The Sith's presence was a miasma of ill intentions, violence, and pain delivered with every breath. Their sheer numbers and the aggression of their assault breached through defences and penetrated deeper into the beating heart of the city, its former darkness reclaimed by the light; the Citadel stood in defiance of their aggressor's very existence.

A light lost amongst the dark.

It's all too simple to become enveloped in the sweeping saga of a monumental battle, losing sight of the intimate stories of bravery and resistance that echo in every skirmish and clash against the invaders. Each confrontation is an assortment of threads woven into a tale rich with the essence of resistance and the individuals willing to lose it all for just one more chance. It's a conflict that unfolds in every precious inch of territory, an ever-changing battlefield where the invisible lines of this war shift with the tides of victory and defeat, the detail told in a simple story so much more complex than any one part.

Yet Nima Torr doesn't have the time to be an observer, detached from the story flickering across her senses. A kaleidoscope of sensations and thoughts twirls across the weave of threads that linger on the edge of her perception, enticing but dangerous, merely waiting for the urge to reach out and get lost in a tale bigger than herself. Nima runs. From the temptation, from the risk of becoming both more and less, and with each step, the distance between herself and the threads that need her grows shorter.

As the darkness sheds blood across the field and threads flicker away, their cores, precious and unique, are lost in a senseless war.

Above her, a cluster of transports—monoliths descended from the heavens—and sleek starfighters surged through the inky, lightless expanse of the cursed sky, their engines roaring across the air with the cries of a banshee. Their silhouettes were brighter against the darkness that enshrouded them and their heated shells, torn from the screeching layers of a burning atmosphere. They laid like daggers embedded against the ground, a beacon to any who dared to look upon their settled breaches.

Charging through the mess of debris, ash and scattered chips of dust kicking up with every movement, Nima leapt from one point to the next as the defences called her forward. A flicker of her blade, bright starlight against the bitter darkness, carved through one fireteam as she forced herself to move forward, ever onwards, with no time to stop or consider the lives lost.

Not with the dark cloud that hung above them, its presence a maelstrom that beckoned her forward as its power flexed, shattering threads around it.

With a grim expression, Nima cut through one building to reach an overlook, far from the top, where starfighters had shorn through with little regard for what little had lingered within. It was there she saw the presence that had shrouded her vision, a walking disaster given purpose; it was nearly impossible to picture the armoured figure that lurked under the rolling mass of darkness, a thousand threads shredded and torn, left to dangle from a creature that had taken the form of a man.

She dared not reach deeper.

Her shoulders squared as the tide of Sith and their soldiers charged forward, and with a couple of steps back, Nima launched herself forward; a bolt of red loosed with the same intent as any blaster. Her blades flickered as they came to life, a downward swing smashing through the defence of one unprepared red blade before her other continued into the gap left behind. Their body left to fall upon the rubble and debris of the scattered field as other forces of the Alliance roared in response.

Nima found herself ducking under another strike, cut off with a kick to the knee, as she passed them by on a rush towards the crumbled remains of a building caught in the shockwave of the transport's initial impact.

Tag: Darth Prazutis​

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJ 3: Capital Gains
Tag: Kaito Starfall

Yapping, fighting, etc in the streets of the Capital City, Ettiau

" Think boy. "

The sharp words cut through Diogo, leaving no traces of doubt embedded in his flesh. This man had been a Jedi.

"Who are you? And what happened to you?"

He wasn't a Sith… couldn't be, right?

The dark side was all consuming. Darkness was a natural state of things, its existence taken for granted like the vast vacuum of space. Light required creation—a tangible instigator and a constant source of fuel. Something in this man prevented him from being consumed; there was a faint light, reflected in his repose and restraint. So, he couldn't be a Sith. Not truly, anyway.

Diogo relentlessly pressed forward, but his attacks became heavy and sluggish as his adversary easily batted them away, creating openings he didn't take advantage of. Was this guy showing mercy? It felt patronizing. All the while, the masked figure's steady calm was a stark contrast to Diogo's undisciplined outpouring of emotion. It served to frustrate the young Padawan even more.

"Djem So is powerful, but its strength becomes a weakness when you overextend. What will you do when your opponent doesn't break?"

"Everyone breaks eventually," he confidently retorted. There was a double-edged implication there that Diogo let linger unspoken.

The distant roar of collapsing rubble broke the silence, Kaito's head snapping toward the noise. It was the smallest lapse, but it was all the Padawan needed.

The green-haired boy didn't have the luxury of time. The brief distraction opened a window he either took advantage of now, or let slip away forever. Feth it. He had sworn off mercy. Better to be stubborn than dead.

Diogo thrust his lightsaber forward with murderous intent.

 

[Kaito Starfall]

Diogo Talon
No verbal reply was forthcoming; Kaito barely turned back in time to catch the strike, his blade flashing up in a hurried arc. The sabers collided with a crackling burst of energy, the impact throwing sparks into the smoke-choked air of Ettiau's battered streets.
But Diogo's aggression carried through the parry, the younger man's blade skimming down Kaito's guard and carving a molten gash across his right side. Heat surged against his ribs, and the scent of charred fabric and burnt flesh hit him like a slap.

Pain flared sharp and immediate, stealing his breath as the glancing blow sliced just shallow enough to sear muscle but not deep enough to eviscerate. Kaito staggered a step back, his face a mask of stoic control, though his stance wavered. His free hand hovered near the wound reflexively, fingertips brushing the blistering edges of a scar that would ache for weeks to come.

The injury had cut into the oblique muscle, leaving an ugly, smoldering streak. Every slight motion or movement sent fresh waves of agony tearing through his core, the injury pulling at the muscle with every twist and breath, threatening to unravel his ability to fight. It wasn't a mortal wound, but it was crippling--robbing him of agility, precision, and the very foundation of his stance.

If Diogo pressed his advantage now, it could very well be the end.

A sudden quick twist of the wrist and a pushing gesture sent a strong wave of Force energy hurtling toward the Padawan, the sheer momentum of the blast aimed at throwing him back and creating precious distance between the two.

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

10th Sector Armada
ANS Mon Mothma
Equipment: Echani Vibrosword | AT-NB5
Tags: Gerwald Lechner

Were it possible for noise to travel through the void, the first issuance of their arrival would have been a mighty roar as the behemoth tore its way from Hyperspace into the Eiattu System. The vessel heralded the arrival of the Galactic Alliance, its vast entourage slipping into position around the Super Star Destroyer as the formation pushed toward the western blockade. There had been a time for talking, and it had long since passed, now was the time for actions and it was clear that whoever commanded this vast Alliance Armada understood that just as much as their opposition.

The vessel unleashed a cataclysmic volley as the brilliant green glow of Turbolaser bolts issued forth across the void, steaming towards the Sith vessels that held firm. This initial volley was joined by the brilliant blue hue of the Ion Cannons unleashing their volley, the bolts streaming across the void to impact against the enemy to disable their shields and weapons. Almost as if by cue, the rest of the fleet joined, their Turbolasers and Ion Cannons unleashing withering salvos against the Sith Blockade, interspersed with Concussion Missiles and Proton Torpedoes. The ANS Mon Mothma led the charge, barreling towards the position of the Second Legion, joined by the Chiss and Hapan formations that flanked the Flagship.

On the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer stood a silent figure, an individual that remained focused, their attention falling upon the formation of Sith vessels that lay ahead of them. Even as the bridge was alight with the cacophony of activity and issuance of commands, the individual remained silent. Their attention never faltered, it never looked away, it remained singularly focused as the individual stepped forward. Their arms pulled up from their sides, crossing over their chest, a heavy cloak hanging off their right shoulder, fixed to the armor that covered their form. The enclosed helm obfuscating their features as their focus remained locked upon the Sith vessels even as their attention was called.

"Ma'am, reports are coming in, Sith shuttles have managed to breach the forward hangars. NavSec Forces are currently holding though are facing fierce opposition."

The woman nodded silently, her attention remaining on the enemy formation until the final moment as she turned away, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of the blade that hung at her hip. Each step thundered through the bridge as she made her way toward the turbolifts, her attention shifting for a moment as her voice rang out.

"Vice Admiral Thalu, you have command, break this blockade."

It was a simple command, despite the complexities that they would face in any such attempt. The 10th Sector Armada had suffered greatly in previous engagements, however, it always returned to the fight, battered and beaten, never broken. She had trust in the skills and experience of the Vice Admiral, enough so that she was willing to leave them in command as she took care of the boarding parties personally. After all, the ANS Mon Mothma was as much her home as the apartment she held in 500 Republica, and she wasn't about to let it be taken over so easily or without a fight.

The doors hissed open as she stepped in, the transit system within the vessel would ensure that she was capable of reaching her destination with ease even as the enormous vessel rocked and shivered from the impacts of the enemy's returned fire. Her finger pressed firmly against the button, directing the system to take her to the forward hangar bays, to bring her to the fighting.

​

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Northern Forests - Eiattu 6
Objective: Assassinate the Jedi Ambassador
Tag: Roman Vossari

The northern forests were a far cry from the capital city some hundreds of miles away. Although the terrain bore marks of war—trees scorched with carbon scoring, small craters in the terrain, pockets of burned-out vegetation, and the blackened hulls of charred armored vehicles—the bulk of the conflict had since moved on from the area, leaving behind only scattered remnants. There was peace. As much peace as there could be with the shrill caws of carrion feeders circling overhead, the flickering of dying flames, and the periodic hums of passing repulsorlift vehicles.

Amidst it all, a shrouded phantom of minuscule presence lurked in the trees overlooking the trails.

Her mission was to assassinate Ambassador Niel Tahn, a top Jedi emissary who had made significant strides in converting much of Eiattu’s Imperial-aligned population to the cause of the Alliance. His diplomatic missions had already resulted in settlements offering assistance to Alliance forces, giving them intelligence, knowledge of the terrain (which allowed them to move through it as if they were native to the area), and yet more material and immaterial advantages.

Such activities could not be allowed to persist.

Under normal conditions, predicting her target’s route would have been a far more difficult task which might have required live intelligence to coordinate. Fortunately, the masked acolyte was all but certain that her target would be coming through her area, since it was one of the only stretches of terrain that was not mined beyond passability. And the only one of those stretches that led to Pella.

For Chasianna’s part, the forest’s relative peace was disquieting. She had meditated while waiting for her target, channeling her emotions into a honed edge to be harnessed as a font of power. However, the lack of conflict in the area—the dearth of passive dark side energy stemming from pain, suffering, rage, and bloodlust—had forced the Qilin to draw deep within herself. Any remnants of such energies that came upon her senses were readily latched onto and drawn upon, but she dared not feed too deep for fear of exposing herself. In those moments, she instead fell into silent prayer, her fear of and devotion to the Eternal Father a ready and reliable source of strength.

And it was during one such moment that she felt her target on the approach.

Before long, the hum of the landspeeder’s repulsorlifts reached her physical senses, causing her long, pointed ears to twitch in response. All the while, Chasianna moved towards the edge of the branch and drew one of her vibroblades, waiting for the opportune moment to take her move.

When it finally arrived, Chasianna took two calculated steps forward and allowed gravity to carry her form downward, with the aim of landing on the landspeeder’s hood as it passed and plunging her vibroblade straight into the engine block!

Spoiler: Loadout

• Shell Spider Silk Sith Robes with Synth-Leather Gloves, Boots, and Banded Belt
  
  • Atmosphere Mask
  • Gauntlets
    
    • Gauntlet Comp - R
      
      • Loaded with FAE/S-11 Universal Communication Matrix
  • Utility
    
    • FAE/C-05 Infiltration Suite
    • Fibercord Grappling Hook / Liquid-cable Launcher
    • Aqua Breather
    • Glowrod
    • "PureSucculent" Filtration Straw
    • Energy Capsules
    • Spare Filters
    • Water Canteens
  • Boots
    
    • FAE/A-14 Energized Foot Gear
      
      • Jetboot Thrusters Removed
• Fuchsia Edge (2)

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJ3: Capital Gains
Tag: Kaito Starfall

Everyone breaks eventually.

Diogo aggressively applied pressure after the blue plasma of their blades collided. The masked figure's guard finally gave way, allowing the Padawan's lightsaber to easily carve through his opponent. Tendrils of wispy smoke licked the air, carrying the foul stench of burnt flesh.

As the man staggered back, Diogo hesitated. A smirk plastered his face; he wanted his adversary to see his gloating visage before he dealt the final blow. Surging the Force through his legs, Diogo charged with lightsaber held high in premature triumph. But the momentum carrying him forward suddenly shifted, and like being caught in a massive gust of wind, he was thrown backwards.

There was nothing soft to cushion his landing. Sharp-edged rubble? Say hello to sack of meat. Diogo collided with the strewn duracrete, head and ribs and everything else. Sharp pain enveloped his entire body. His lungs were heavy, his breath ragged and staggered. A slick wetness dripped from a wound on his head, pouring down his face and obscuring his vision. Though his Anzat blood immediately went to work regenerating his body, Diogo wasn't sure how much fight he had left in him.