Nothing

[Haytham Kaze]

Location: Top of Mt. Meru.

After he landed at the top of the mountain, it appeared that [member="Ashmedai"] was being questioned by the apparent Jedi [member="Alyona Volkovna"]. Turning his head from side to side to take in the scene in front of him, his saberstaff remained deactivated in his hand as the door to his mind was unwittingly knocked upon. He blinked behind that helmet of his, a slight tilt of his head, and then his head turned and settled onto the Jedi Padawan. He wasn't sure what he had attempted, but whatever it was, it crashed upon his mental defenses as if it were a wooden spear crashing head on against a metal shield.

Essentially, the tip of the spear shattered after it made contact.

Not that he actually had to put much thought into the defense -- or any at all. It wasn't the first time a Force user would've tried to steal something from his mind without him noticing.

Somewhere off to his side and only a few metres away, he felt a boiling rage. When the bolt never came towards him, the Dark Lord of the Sith was surprised to say the least. In fact, so surprised that he spared a glance to the side to see what had happened. He only saw the man being set down gently to the ground, thanks to [member="Veiere Arenais"]. He had saved the Captain's life, dragging him off somewhere out of sight.

Shame. He had wanted to kill him.

He recalled however that [member="Bryn'jarr Astaris"] had asked a question of him.

Did I have a name?

"Everything has a name, insolent worm."

There was a pause.

He was of the mind to just slay the Zabrak on the spot. Clenching his right fist he was certain he could shatter the bones of the Jedi's chest with a single well placed punch. As was the beauty of his strength-enhancing armour. But he didn't. The Jedi reminded him of someone. He reminded him of himself, when he had been younger... When he had been a Jedi Padawan. Arrogant of course. He thought himself worthy enough of facing a Dark Lord of the Sith? So had Haytham at that time.

It was foolish.

There had been a time when his life had been spared in a battle by a Sith that was much too powerful for him to face.

He would show that kindness to the alien before him.

His attention was called elsewhere, and oh so boldly, he turned down the path that he would've otherwise taken to the top of the mountain, had he not taken a much faster way. Regrettably so.

Done the path, someone had called out to him. The first words uttered from the fat headed being's mouth had been... Sith Lord.

Immediately after hearing the words, he corrected the Jedi Master. "Dark Lord." He cut him off easily enough. There was no more kindness to be sought from Orcus's Legacy. He ignored the rest of his words, naturally, as he continued down the path to [member="Dune Rhur"] and the extremely familiar presence of [member="Cath Lorr"]. He never got a face. He didn't see her yet, but he knew she was close. "Have you come to slay me? I only wish to aide you," his arms opened up as he spoke his words.

He gave more than enough time to the Bith to respond before he said, "I've come to help you in shortening your existence. Are you prepared to die, Jidai?"

(( Think I got everything in my post. ))

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Location: City of Meru, Deneba
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Arkaitz Zambrano"] | @Mór-rioghain
Enemies: [member="Keira Ticon"]
Other: [member="Ashmedai"] [member="Aram Kalast"]
Gear:

• Dreadplate Armor
• Gauntlets
• Lightsaber 1 and 2
• Valthris Amulet

The dark side clamored around the two powerful Sith Lords, their very presence thickening the air and unsettling even those without skill in the force. It firmly clung to the forms and served to darken their already wicked appearance. As they approached the woman that was his niece in law Prazutis already began to ready himself for battle. While Kaine stopped a mere three meters from Keira, the Dark Titan circled wide around her left side. "Buir. Ba'vodu. You look well." Keira addressed them in the language of Mando'a. Prazutis unlike his master and nephew was fluent in the language of the warrior peoples, and going with the theme of the conversation chose to follow it by addressing her in the tongue as well.

"Vabi'r" Prazutis replied as he stopped once he was off to her left side. But before the conversation could go any further he saw hie niece send a powerful shotgun blast of force energy that nearly sent Kaine off his feet, nearly. Already Prazutis was on the move towards his niece gripping and igniting the crimson blade of his lightsaber with one hand. He thrusted his right hand forward delivering a powerful crackling burst of crimson lightning towards her. Rarely did anyone fight the two of them at once as chances of survival were very slim. Years of working together, training together taught the two Sith Lords exactly how to take down an opponent. While Kaine attacked from the front, Prazutis would push her from the side and work to wedge Keira between himself and Kaine.

 

[Xenro]

Allies: [member="Ashmedai"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"]
Engaging: [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Zator Carr"]

His gaze flickered with a sentiment not unlike amusement as the Jedi gave his ultimatum. Give in to the Jedi, endure justice, and accept the light? That seemed to be the mantra of Jedi, as he recalled. His former Master was an avid lover of the prospect of peace, though she often confided her doubts in the young Xentrius. He never spoke to her at length about his own opinions on the matter, but the boy had always been one for listening when people spoke. It helped to understand their thoughts and better observe what made them function. This Jedi was similar in a way, in that he spoke of there being no need for further death...

Ah...

It was suddenly clear that the man did not fully grasp the situation. Whether he was unused to the occult nature of the Sith or he had simply never seen the more mystic depths of the dark side of the Force, Xenro understood at last the nature of his foe. "Jedi seek peace," he iterated thoughtfully, "but you would rather I persist in this world? Fascinating."

To Xenro, all creatures were idiosyncratic at some level. Their baser instinct drove them toward primitive thoughts of "right" and "wrong," "good" and "evil." It was the Jedi and their ilk who first defined the Sith as hedonistic and villainous creatures that relied on their passions for power. It was the Jedi who created the superstitious hatred and fear of the darkness, and drove the Dark Jedi of old into hiding. It was because of their disagreement on the nature of the Force that the Ancient Sith had ever embraced what became the Brotherhood of Darkness, and inevitably created the modern Sith Lords. Yet it was those same Jedi that claimed morality and sought pacifism through their monastic approach to "defending the galaxy."

Why ever pick up a lightsaber if your aim was to strive toward the light?

Why, indeed.

His arm fell to his side as he took a step. His foot splashed blood in every direction, and particulates went airborne. "I will not afford you the same kindness, Jedi," the Dark Lord informed him. "Instead, I will help you to understand."

Life was a cruel truth, and one that no creature in the galaxy could avoid. Through life, mankind struggled and suffered. They enslaved themselves to greater aspirations in hope of finding some kind of relief, but reality set in over time. "Jedi embrace the impermanence of life," he stated as the dark pool swirled rhythmically upward and spiraled around him like a tempest. It congealed and twisted, broke apart at the seams, and fanned outward in the form of immeasurably small grains. "I am no different."

The haze of blood that permeated around Xenro burst outward in an instant. Small, jagged shards rocketed toward Veiere and whipped wildly around his body. If they managed to connect, the Jedi might notice something strange about the pain...

Spoiler

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sith_poison

 

[Akhilleus]

Objective: Kill Sith for waking him
Allies: [member="Veiere Arenais"] [member="Cyril Grayson"]
Enemies: [member="Xenro"]
Location: Surface, few feet from Veiere.

Spoiler: Armory

Fighting Claw
Gnullith
Mqaaw'it
Gila Stomach
11 Razor/Thud Bugs
HAED Slugthrower
LightClub

The drop-pod rocketed through space and with a sudden jolt Zator knew he had entered the planets orbit, the com channel was littered with messages and calls for help spread all across the families and cities. Some other jedi and allies had already responded to, but Zator could feel an increasingly dark presence in the force. Even from his position falling from the sky he could sense the black miasma of the dark side and the ilk that utilized it. Wasn’t too long ago since you were one of them… Wonder if any of my clan will be on the battlefield? Zator thought, though he doubted it. Not too many of the Vong remained with the Sith after the death of the Dark Lord as far as the hybrid knew. It brought a sense of relief knowing that at least a few had been able to break ties with the one Sith.

Another presence stood out to Zator down on the battlefield, it was a lone jedi going against the one with an eldritch like aura. Looking down at his datapad more messages from the battlefield funneled in one alerting the jedi that the Jedi knight Veiere had taken it upon himself to engage a Sith Lord in combat. Was that what Zator was sensing? With no other way to find out he tapped at the drop pod controls altering his course just a bit with the emergency thrusters so to land at the site of the battle.

The heat from reentry was so much that even Zator could feel it from inside the shuttle. The systems went critical trying to stabilize the temperature, but it was too little. Bearing the heat, the Tof hybrid began sweating and soaked his tunic before the drop pod slammed to the ground with a raucous screech as though the durasteel frame itself had been shredded. With no hesitation Zarot pushed open the Drop pod door where the first sight he saw was Veiere fighting the Sith Lord. That’s when Zarot saw it, the most unique and disturbing use of the force. The Sith was controlling his blood but how? Mgaaw’it eyes adjusting to examine the liquid Zator noted the chemical make up but also something else, the cells in the blood weren’t active. Reacting first Zator reached out with the force wrapping his ally in a force barrier to protect him from the blood. Other hand raising Zarot raised the HAED slugthrower and opened fire on the Sith Lord to break his concentration.

 

[inactivechar01]

Mount Meru, Deneba
[member="Thema Csapla"];

He had long prepared for a battle with those that named themselves Jedi, beacons of the Light. False, just as the light they served. Artificial and unnatural. The Harbinger aimed to do that. To make her open her eyes, to see that she has been long deceived. Deceived her entire life. He would send her the message.

The green plasma blade would strike down an illusion of The Harbinger rather than himself and his voice would echo in her mind while he in reality stood a dozen feet behind the illusion itself.

"This is the natural way of things, Jedi. Just like striking me down, it felt natural did it not ?" Along with his voice, he would attempt to materialize in her vision various traumatizing events of her life in which she begged for the end, for all of it to simply end. "All things must end."

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Location: Meru City Alleyways
Allies: [member="Cyril Grayson"] -- Republic and co.
Enemies: [member="Darth Prazutis"] -- Radical Jihadists.


Vorian's irises smoldered with hatred, staring daggers into the darkly armored figures, their heavy plate adorned with grisly spikes as they lashed out and pounded away at the defenses of a petite female. The savages had no honor, no compassion beating in their blackened, decayed hearts. Only the most supreme of cowards, only the pinnacle of cravens would gun down helpless civilians for the mere.. thrill of it.

Festering cancers.

The thought of the beasts wearing a grin upon blood-speckled visages as they savored the butchery they inflicted upon a helpless population consisting of the elderly and the young caused the scar across his abdomen where he was disemboweled and very nearly killed by a Sith upon Felucia to burn with a renewed agony. His nails dug into the palms of his hands and drew a stream of crimson ichor, so hard did he clench them. As a Jedi and a Warrior of the Republic, he was honor bound to address his opponent, offer them quarter if they laid down their arms and a fair trial underneath the law. Perhaps a force stun or a mind trick would disable this creature, for truly how strong minded could he be with animalistically following the schemes of his dark masters? Jedi were peacekeepers, not executioners.

And look where the law has gotten us. Thousands of tiny coffins to be filled with tiny bodies.

Raw rage mixing with potent force power flowed throughout Vorian's body. They couldn't keep getting away with this. They couldn't be shoved into cells, placed into prisons only to escape to murder more innocents. They had forfeited their right to be treated like a sentient creature of the galaxy, basked in their status as feral beasts, toxic viruses. Jaw clenched and veins pulsating beneath parchment thin pale skin, Vorian Adasca turned his gaze coldly onto Cyril and communicated with a single expression and latent ashla power what it would take an average man a thousand words.

I won't be trying to take them alive.

Vorian extended his arm, summoning a significant sum of his force power combined with years of concentrated frustration and anger and focusing it into his hand. With a subtle twitch of his fingers, he attempted to wrap raw, virulent force around the intimidating helmet of [member="Darth Prazutis"] that he wore so proudly from the behind whilst he was distracted with combating the girl. Yanking his arm backwards in a explosion of the bottled-up aggression, the mammoth amount of power twisted the Sith Lord's helmet with a untold amount of force, intending to rend apart sinew, sever delicate spinal nerves, to break his neck in a single visceral move.

You'll die like the rabid dog you are.

 

[Placeholder 04]

Captain Decius
Location: Mountainside

All the bitterness and rage building up within Decius had exploded outward. He'd charged the Sith Lord with the full intent to kill the man. The odds weren't in his favor -- they rarely ever were -- but the death of his brothers and sisters was enough to stir the youth into violent and unpredictable action.

Grayson would have disapproved.

He moved to empty his sidearm into the stranger, but found his limbs going lax. The strength that fueled him ebbed away in an instant, the pain going with it. With a sigh of surprise, Decius collapsed into the embrace of slumber with the urging of the force.

​

​

-----------------------​

​

Captain Loken, Captain Jarod
Location: Spaceport
Allies: [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Setzi Lunelle"]

"Flight master said they had clearance codes. Said they were Silvers, I think." Jarod lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, a rather awkward motion in his armor.

Loken mumbled a curse under his breath. "Why are they coming here? Grayson didn't say anything about letting Silvers in. Don't we have enough trouble with the bathrobes already? Kriff." The elderly captain pushed up off the crate he'd been sitting on and slung is rifle back over his shoulder. He took off down to the hanger bay, Jarod keeping step with him with ease.

"The Republic let them through. Figure that counts for something. They're probably just here to help Loken. Cool your jets." The younger of the two flashed his old friend a confident smile as they walked through the portal into their new guests' hanger.

The majority of the docking bays were completely closed off per orders. The only ships permitted to come or go had to transfer the proper codes, lest they risk meeting a very displeased welcoming committee when they disembarked.

"Aye, I'm sorry Jarod. This whole conflict has darkened my humors. We still haven't heard anything from the 7th. Decius is a capable leader, but the lad is still fresh."

Jarod clapped a hand on Loken's shoulder and shook his head. As captain of the 1st, Loken was the de facto head of the legion when Grayson was absent. The safety of the other companies and their captains -- particularly youths like Decius -- weighed on him greatly.

"Decius was given the 7th because of his talents and his service to the legion. You're like a mother worrying over his youngling's first day in class. Let the boy stand on his own, forge his own name. He's ready." Jarod said, donning his helmet and turning to face the ship.

"It's my job to worry. Someone has to keep you boys in check," Loken grumbled, mimicking his friend's actions. Together they stood outside of the strange ship, their armor making them look akin to twin statues of ebony and ivory.

"Let's see how these Silver folk fess up, eh?"

------------------​

​

Cyril Grayson
Location: Meru, alleys, crashing parties
Allies: [member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Keira Ticon"] (?)
Enemies: [member="Darth Prazutis"], [member="Darth Carnifex"]

Vorian and Cyril had fought alongside one another a great number of times. The Arkanian had been one of his closest confidantes during the assassination of the Dark Lord. He'd been one of only three Jedi involved in the plot. They understood one another on a level that did not need to be spoken with simple words.

One simple look and Cyril understood what Vorian intended to do.

Left unmolested, the force had swirled into him without abandon. He kept the raw kinetic force of it chained with the greatest of efforts. A single break in concentration could certainly be the death of him. He drew in a deep breath and his eyes drifted shut, his visage one of tranquility. It had been so very long since he'd been allowed to delve this deep into the ethereal energies without the need for subterfuge. The purity of it was serene and so very perfect, Cyril almost forgot the intention of its gathering in the first place.

He relied on Vorian to choose the target. They had pulled this maneuver numerous times in the past, and had molded its use into a form of kinetic perfection. Some might have seen it as cowardly, but Cyril had long since cast away any reservations about who he was or how he achieved his goals. All that mattered was the end result.

Muscles strained and his temples bulged in his forehead as he unleashed the wave. It fell like an invisible anvil; a collapsing ceiling of unseen energy intended to crush [member="Darth Prazutis"] beneath its weight. There was no way of knowing whether the woman stood as their friend or foe -- better to deal with one of the presences they could be sure of.

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Foot of the Mountain.
Allies: [member="Zator Carr"], Captain Decius (NPC).
Engaging: [member="Xenro"] .

It seemed he was to be given no choice but to defend himself and the fallen Soldier laying upon the ground behind him.

For Veiere Arenais, the concept of peace and the deterrence of hostilities wasn't such a hard prospect to fathom. The Republic had come to this world, Deneba and sought to offer the people sanctuary and aid, better living conditions and a democratic society. What had once been the site of an old Jedi Conclave lost to most but history, had been rebuilt and re-established as a Jedi Enclave where those of the Order could set up a new branch to offer the support of the Order where called for and desired. All things that had come to Deneba before the presence of the Sith had been with the best of intentions, for the people who had been given a choice. Right up until everything else had been shattered and thrown into chaos by the initial attack of the terrorist cell, now confirmed to be in allegiance (if not made up entirely of) those of the Sith Empire.

The pool of blood around [member="Xenro"] only seemed to grow and move around him, like a black acid against what was the natural world, Veiere could feel just how tainted and consumed by the Dark Side this Sith truly was. As if the liquid had a will of its own, the slick poison seemed to rise up and encircle the one of pale flesh beneath the black cloak; in the moment he truly did remind Veiere of something that already passed its time in the living world yet refused to go on into the next.

His right hand slowly fell from the lightsaber hanging attached to his belt, choosing not to unhook it for the moment and instead, whilst taking a deep and steady breath, he channeled his concentration into drawing the power of the force into his center, taking it in from the world around him; the life that danced within the wind, the small animals that called the barren world their home, every part of the planet while appearing desolate, containing life that fueled the Force and from this, Veiere would seek to strengthen his position, readying himself for the coming fight.

It came quickly, though not without warning as the Sith Lord had suggested he were to recieve something from the Alchemist. The black blood that sought pooled to [member="Xenro"]'s every wish suddenly shot out at Veiere, a spray more so than a straight conclusive delivery, making it more difficult to protect himself against. The Jedi had wished to talk some more first though it was forced upon him that the time for discussions were apparently over.

Telekinesis, his mind went first to the advanced form of defense through the control of energies around him. The force surged within him and to his hands he focused, pooling the might of his aura to them so that he might unleash a wave of telekinetic energy out around him in all sides...-But he didn't even get that far as his move was played for him by another. [member="Zator Carr"] was perhaps one of the most recognizable Jedi that he had met at the recent conclave, the image of brute strength, Veiere turned in shock as he felt the Force within the influence of his ally wrap around him in what he could only describe to be a shield that encompassed both himself and the fallen Captain. It was then that the goliath of a Jedi drew out a weapon that seemed to rival his very nature in being loud and explosive, the Slug Thrower a fully automatic weapon of shrapnel and death; suffice it to say this was not at all how the older man had expected the seconds here to turn.

The black blood of the Sith Lord had been driven back yet it remained too close for comfort and around Xenro a large pool of it that hinted to be the initial strength of the aggressor. It took only a brief wave of his left hand to dismantle the shield around him, the barrier easily removed as it was created to keep him safe and out of harm, Veiere instead called to the force once more and cupping his left hand into his right he surrounded himself in that of the light, his eyes following the sand floor in a straight line towards the foe before he stepped forward and driving a massive telekinetic blast outward, a sustained and controlled wave of energy, the intent to push the black blood back, not the foe himself but to see that the sand that was so present around them would mix and drown it out; slow the way in which it was called to move and obey the commands of its master. Like a violent torrent of air, the charge was released from both hands and picked up the floor spraying sand all around them yet most importantly seeking to disable any future use of the foes own lifeline that had been bled from his veins.

 

[Xenro]

Two things happened extremely quickly.

His opponent was shielded by an unseen barrier, and the mire failed to make its mark. Xenro wasted no time as the report of a slugthrower sounded. The ooze coalesced between the rounds and his form, and the shots [member="Zator Carr"] fired were swallowed whole. A sickening slurp issued from the mass as it slowed the momentum of the projectiles. They peeled backward through the blood until they finally came to a halt.

The mass stretched out like a wall between the Dark Lord and the two Jedi, and the bullets clattered to the sand uselessly, like water wrung out from a towel. "You didn't tell me you'd brought a friend," the Sith admonished. "How uninspired."

Droplets of the liquid sprayed as the Jedi hurled a massive wave of kinetic energy toward him and sand, blood, and earth sprayed in every direction. It buffeted the wall and broke, swallowed by the kinetic energies that Xenro willed there within the particles themselves.

It rapidly altered again in an instant. Xenro seized command of the splatter and it writhed back around him, a veritable shield. "The resilience of visceral fluid is remarkable," he commented idly as the blood wound itself around his skeletal fingers. He held the hand at face level, both green eyes fixated on it. "It has the capacity to sustain life, and to stimulate movement."

Areas where it had fallen idle, the Sith's blood settled lazily in the sand and sank with every moment that passed. He glanced up from the sound of his tarpals scraping together to regard both the Vongformed Jedi and the Knight who initially engaged him.

He felt the world around him acutely, even as he remained aware of the enemy at hand. It was a matter of absolute control, and the Sith was more than capable. Quietly, a thin veil of silvery light overlapped the mouth of the Vongformed creature's weapon, even as Xenro continued to speak.

"I see your pacifism is as real as your peace, Jedi." His dark lips curled upward in a smile. "No one need guide you toward the dark. You're well on your way."

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[Akhilleus]

Allies: [member="Veiere Arenais"]
Enemies: [member="Xenro"]
Location: Foot of Mountain

Spoiler: Armory

Fighting Claw
Gnullith
Mqaaw'it
Gila Stomach
11 Razor/Thud Bugs
HAED Slugthrower
LightClub

Zator growled as the rounds fired by the slugthrower were made harmless by the barrier of blood. It was sickening to think that one had become so twisted and vile that they resorted to such a thing. Xenro’s views were perverse and sickening to Zator, but the being understood it. Zator had dealt with many Sith just none that had delved so deeply into corrupting themselves. Of allowing even their true form to be nearly undead. Knowing the slugthrower was useless Zator tossed the weapon back and into the dropship for later use. He’d possibly need it again for a different enemy. “I just decided to drop in… Mind if we share a dance?” Zator growled.

Even now the Tof hybrid felt excited, the thrill of battle was amongst them and it fueled him. Zator was no stranger to battle, even in his youth he’d fought in the pits against other Vong and beings like him. His skills had been honed by the Sith and mastered during his time of becoming a jedi. He let the thrill fall over him and extended out with the force. The world was in utter chaos, fear ran rampant, not only fear but rage. The Sith had caused this and all of it fell upon Zator in crashing waves. It would’ve overwhelmed the younger and more unexperienced him, but now it flowed through him. It flowed through Zator however not corrupting him, instead it was empowering the Vong allowing him to retain his sanity.

“Whoever said I was a pacifist?” Zator asked with a grin and in an instant he was approaching Xenro at a pace not fitting one of his stature. Zator had been honing his skill in saber combat for years making up for his size and on his approach the greatsaber was activated. Extending from the alusteel hilt was a golden beam of plasma that bathed the man in its vibrant glow. Now it was time for the real fight, and while Zator did not know who would walk away alive he was sure it would be a battle to die for.

Bringing his saber up in a one handed slash Zator seemed as though he planned on cutting Xenro from his right hip to his left shoulder.

 

[Connor Harrison]

Location: Spaceport, Meru City
Objective: Escort Setzi
Allies: [member="Setzi Lunelle"]
Enemies: None so far

He found it hard not to mirror her smile. Regardless of her evident wounds, she looked a picture. A real fighter. A warrior with shrouded history. A survivor, like him. The hug was warmly received, and Connor had a real sense of protection for Setzi now, and they both looked kitted out for war. Going into the unknown with someone he cared greatly for was empowering, but tainted with the incident at Ziost.

He had gone into wild with Chastity, and lost her forever that same day.

Granted, Setzi had far more experience in the field and against Force users and non-users alike, but still, that pang was there but he swore it wouldn’t be used against him. Not today.

"Makes sense."

With a slow zip up, Connor obliged and gave her a pat on the rear as he started forward with her.

"There is a horrible aura around this place. Tainted. Fearful. Going into the field together, as Master and Apprentice of course, I will say the obvious as the first step of teaching you how we work. Or I work. Don’t think; feel. You know what needs to be done, and so follow your heart and do it. Whatever it takes. Trust in the Force, and trust in me and you’ll be fine."

It was like preaching to those already adept in knowledge of the Force. Heck, Setzi had been Darth Azurea; Sith Lord. This admission of her as a Padawan was simply following protocol, but one Connor would guide her on and right her if she slipped or stumbled. She would emerge from this journey a strong, powerful warrior of the Light.

 

[Ameli Trahir]

Meru Concert Hall, Deneba
Rhane and his boys were efficient in what they did. It had been a slaughter, no doubt about it. The spectacle at the spaceport seemed to have drawn most of the law enforcement and military towards that. Response was slow at best. Had they even noticed that the theatre had been hit? One would think the explosions from inside were an indicator. Although perhaps the people soundproofing the building had done a fine job. In any case, there were always some survivors, some that had managed to hide, run away. No doubt someone had been notified.

"We are done here." Rhane said to the rest of his people as they gathered up, overlooking the macabre scenery. He had never really imagined he'd be able to say those words. He imagined they would feel the heat of the police's blasters before it all faded to black. Perhaps they still would. "It's time to move." he said, getting sombre nods from the rest of the group. Surely, they had done the work of justice today, or so they told themselves. Yet would the faces and the screams ever fade from the back of their minds?

Rhane pondered how to proceed. They could run out screaming, masking themselves as the targeted civilians. But chances were there were some cameras that had caught them and eventually whoever received them would arrest them. No, there was only one way if they hoped to escape all of this alive. "With me" he kept it brief. The group gathered up, leaving hiding survivors behind. Not after torching the place, of course. The building was a symbol, and that was what they were striking out against today. The concert hall that had hosted today's opera quickly caught ablaze. Rhane and his group slid out the back, chasing that slim chance of survival with all they had.

Calle Rhane's apartment, City of Meru, Deneba
Ameli finally rose from Rhane's bed. It was getting late. As tempting as it was to sleep the day away, she did have a job to do. Ameli had snuck away from responsibilities before, but not this time. Not when she had spent the better part of last month preparing for all of this. The blonde girl got dressed. She had never really liked the dark robes of the Sith anyway, so for her to find a way to blend in was no greater struggle. The ring she wore made sure her presence was obscured from the Force, as well as her alignment. She put on a pair of high, black boots, a colourful dress with a thin, long, black cardigan on top. A small purse worn over her shoulder completed the outfit.

Dressed to kill, the blonde slipped out from the apartment. While her presence was masked thanks to the ring, she added her own little touch to obscure her further, appearing insignificant and unworthy of notice as she made her way towards more fun locations.

 

[Thema Csapla]

[member="The Harbinger"]

Her target exploded into shadowy, black vapor, as if she'd had swung her lightsaber at a physical manifestation of darkness. Impressive, but she had no time to gawk at the illusion. Instead, she swung around, clutching her lightsaber with a two handed grip, suited to deal a powerful strike onto her next target. But her attempts of an attack were cut short by a sudden spike of psychological pain, manifesting itself as a feeling. The same crippling void she'd felt when placed in Jedi stasis a few weeks ago re-surged now, paralyzing her with disorientation. The padawan lightly groaned in anguish, trying to make sense of the vision. There was no end to the emptiness around her. Only the cockpit of her fighter, and the blackness of space. "This isn't real." She repeated to herself uselessly, taking a weak step towards the Sith in Real Space. She'd survived the coma, and she would survive the vision.

Reaching out blindly, Thema aimlessly pooled her energy into a Force blast, the sensation of the ability pulling her mind back into the Real World. Now, instead of rage and vengeance, she was fueled by fear. "You should be dead." She murmured, words acting as a ledge of confidence. Again, she began advancing towards the Sith, this time, a bit more cautious. Before she struck at the presence, she attempted to Force push her target, both literally and figuratively shoving her fears away. Then, she would swing the green blade again at the Dark Jedi.

 

[Dune Rhur]

Mt. Meru
Allies: [member="Cath Lorr"]
Enemies: [member="Haytham Kaze"]

"Dark Lord, Sith Lord. You're are all the same," Dune replied in an off-handed way. He let his hooded robe slip to the stone beneath. He stepped forward into a ready stance.

"Slay you?," he asked "If I must, Sith Lord. You have a chance to surrender and I advise you to take it."

His opponent had spread his arms wide. He wanted the Bith to come blundering forward. Dune felt wry amusement creep into his mind. Not a chance of that.

"Hold, Cath. He's going to try and goad you. Remember your training and be calm."

His voice was a quiet murmur for her ears alone.

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Location: Spaceport
Objective: Not clearly defined
Allies: None currently
Enemies: None currently

Nearby: [member="Setzi Lunelle"] [member="Connor Harrison"]

An attractive blonde girl was sitting quietly on a bench in the spaceport, casually tossing a ball into the air every so often. Headphones were in her ears, feigning that she was listening to music from a device in her pocket. The chaos going on around the rest of the city seemed far off in regards to the spaceport, the terrorists not present here where security had cordoned off and hardened the spaceport. Civilians were moving about, nervous but glad to be in the relative safety of the spaceport. She kept her presence closed off, not that it was hard to remain undetected here. With all the chaos and death and fighting, it was much easier to keep her presence tampered down.

The ball landed in her hand again, her head tilting to the side almost like she had heard an odd chord in the tune she was listening to. In a way, she was getting an odd tune. Two more light sided presences had arrived at the spaceport, one feeling quite familiar in fact. Reaching into the travel bag sitting next to her with her free hand, she pulled out a datapad and made two more tick marks on the screen. A small timer was running out in the corner, and with a slight smile, she put the datapad back to toss the ball into the air again. All in good time.

 

[Progflaw99]

Location: Mount Meru
Allies: [member="Alyona Volkovna"]
Enemies: [member="Ashmedai"] | [member="Haytham Kaze"]

Bryn'jarr's mental probe had been snuffed out like a candle, no more thought given to it than a horse to a fly, flicking its tail. It confused him, not because he expected to succeed, but because of the sheer dismissal the Sith had faced him with. It frustrated him, but he grit his teeth and watched as he turned. He lowered his saber in his right hand, blade angled, tip towards the ground. As the Sith headed away, he held his footing. It confused him that the Sith had so casually departed, but he was not foolish enough to follow. Let the others deal with him... he could feel the presence of other Jedi nearby. He turned back towards Alyona and the Sith who'd now removed his mask. As he carefully stepped towards the two he observed the man's dark features, his tattoos... not unlike his own however much darker and severe. There was a certain beauty to the dark lines he could appreciate, his own tattoos still light, easily changed. Once he passed into knighthood he had decided that would change. As he approached Bryn held short, ready to back up Alyona at a second's notice. His lightsaber remained ignited, the cackling blue energy traversing the blade. He adjusted his stance slightly, bringing the blade up in a defensive two hand hold angled slightly forward across his body. His impatience was gnawing at him deeply but he held it in check. He couldn't recall how many times during his training that he'd mistakenly surge forward when he should have held fast even if for but a moment more.

He listened carefully as the woman spoke, also curious as to the intent of the Sith before them. Even he was willing to admit violence had a place... but here? The Sith were always grabbing territory, but this wasn't the same as before. There was an overwhelming darkness here and it pressed in like a thick cloud. Focus. It was something he'd been gifted with naturally, the ability to focus. It was a trait of his race, or so he'd been told. In any case, it was something he used now, focusing on the situation at hand. The darkness around him, the darkness below... it faded into the background as the present became his only reality. As the two conversed, he watched carefully. The discarded mask now lay on the ground, but it did not appear to be relevant, Alyona throwing it away. He stood balanced, prepared to be attacked if the Sith didn't feel like talking. The questions had been posed, now there was nothing left to do but wait and see....

 

[Faith Organa]

Location: Deneba, Commerce Building
Allies [member="Draco Vereen"] / Republic
Enemies: Too many to go back and tag

Faith looked at Draco, "You're just wanting to show off right, by carrying two women" She was trying to bring some levity to a situation that was most certainly growing worse by Draco's information.

Animals on the loose, death and destruction at the space port, and who knew what else around them.

She looked at Ana and then back to Draco, "Ok. I'm out of league, what do we do now?" She had been trying to learn new things when it came to tactics but in truth she didn't have enough time in a day to get through everything she needed to do, and the list of things she wanted to do. She felt closed in, outnumber and now unsure of who was a friend and who was an enemy.

They needed to move, that was all she kept thinking, standing still and someone could mark you a target easier than if moving. Least..that's what the last class taught.

 

[Travot Ravenna]

Location: Meru City streets, Meru City
Objective: Yes
Allies: GR & friends
Enemies: [member="Harley"]
Equipment: lightsaber, lanvorok, tabard, FastFlesh medpac

Travot watched the speeder truck strike the ill-fated landspeeder, causing a shower of sparks to fly. Shortly thereafter, the errant truck smashed into the gates, apparently unimpeded by his hastily thrown up obstacle. Well shucks...He distinctly heard the artificially amplified voice of one of the troopers behind him as they jogged behind him.

"This is RT-2412, I am reporting an attempted prison break near my personal transponder coordinates. I'm requesting back-up and a security cordon to be formed around the facility...ah, apparently a handful of security guards and droids, my fireteam, and I think a jedi...Yes, I understand, we will attempt to hold the entry point until reinforcements arrive."

Travot frowned as they neared the crumpled gate. Hold the entry point...He silently swore. From what he'd seen of the Republic's troopers, most were exceptionally trained and proficient in their line of work. But they tended to often play the long, strategic game that often seemed reinforced by both their commanders and their official doctrine. The containment action that they seemed to be putting into effect would likely prevent the mass escape of the prisoners, but it did nothing proactive for the staff inside. Fortunately, I don't have to follow an exact chain of command here...

His reverie came to a halt as he felt a dark aura near him, causing him to abruptly slow down to a steady walk with almost a forced gait. He took the moment to catch more of his breath. Aside from the wrecked speeder truck, the street seemed silent and almost unoccupied. His emerald green eyes fell upon a remarkably skinned woman. At first, he might have thought she was merely an innocent bystander, but her clothing was not of a style that most of the other civilians wore. If anything, it reminded him of something that a Witch of Dathomir might wear. Is she a witch? He wasn't sure.

The susevfian unclipped his saber hilt from his belt and readied the hilt high in the palm of his hand. But he did not tap its activation stud, remembering the importance of Form Zero when dealing with unknown persons. He led his right foot forward to point at the woman, while he kept his left foot back and sightly angled away from his front foot. It was the basic stance that he used to start with his own variant of the classic Soresu style. His green eyes tried to make contact with her pale blue orbs. He cleared his throat to further attract her attention.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Deneba
Allies: [member="Faith Organa"]
Enemies: I'm sure there will be at least one.

"Not exactly, but I totally could if we needed it." He grinned behind his helmet for an instant before the sound of combat down the street snapped him back to where he was. He was in the middle of a warzone with his pregnant wife and a non-combatant. "Well..." Draco looked around, his sphere of influence spread out to his limit, about one hundred meters where he could sense the surface thoughts, intentions, and emotions of individuals. It was small, precise, accurate, but alas, very small. His helmet's sensors worked just fine as well, picking out life forms and droids, active scanners active and translating onto his HUD as needed.

"We should find cover and call for back up. Really any back up at this point. Preferably one that won't complain about me though." Draco said as he pointed at a door and ushered the pair of women in that direction. Ana was keeping close to him and he was keeping a hand on Faith. Slowly messages began streaming in from the ship, Gorran feeding him updates about the situation. "Space port is a no go." His voice still level through the annunciator as he held the door open for the two women and ushered them into a storage facility. There wasn't hardly anything of real value, it was just a warehouse, but maybe there was a speeder big enough for all three of them that could hold up to some light combat.

"Our ship seems to be mostly intact, its just buried in some debris, so its kind of useless for getting out of there. Gorran is holding there with Captain Lindsey and some others. Right now they can't exactly make it to us." Draco continued looking down aisles of tools and hardware. His mind was moving to getting to the ship and hunkering down there, but he needed to figure out how to skirt around the disaster and combat as best as he could.

 

[Joza Perl]

Location: Spaceport, Meru City>Into Meru City

After receiving proper clearance to land, Joza let the skilled pilot handle the landing unpertubed. She wanted to ask him more about the other Sanctum ship, but the man could be grumpy if she peppered him with questions while he was trying to concentrate. Strapping herself into the co-pilots chair lest she be tossed about by any potential turbulence, the Zelteon concentrated on extending her senses outward and feeling around for a familiar presence.

Master. [member="Dune Rhur"] was among those defending Deneba, and the thought made her smile a bit. In her mind, the Bith was the poster child for what a Jedi should be. Calm, patient and perceptive. He was surrounded by a handful of other presences of varying strength. Among those, she was able to pick out another one that struck a familiar chord in her. She grimaced. It was too soon after Ruusan. Dune and his friends would handle things.

“You alright, kid?” Ivan grunted from behind a cigarra, focus poured into the landing with an intensity Joza rarely saw. The man certainly put his all into his job, that was for sure. For that matter, how he manage to catch a glimpse of her pained expression?

“Yeah. Just worry on getting us down in one piece, alright?”

Another guttural grunt was his only response as he brought the ship down and into the spaceport. The pair remained quiet for a few moments as everything settled into place, taking in the pandemonium that could be both seen and heard.

--

Joza had slipped through the city, avoiding fights where she was seemingly not needed. She figured out quickly that there would be more to this than simply fighting Sith, as these things often went. The smoldering opera house was hard to miss, even in the distance. Perhaps she could reach it and quell the flames, perhaps it would be too late. Nevertheless, it was as good of a place to start as any.

As she moved thought the streets on what she hoped would be the quickest route to the fire, the Zeltron was startled by the appearance of [member="Ameli Trahir"]. Nothing in the Force alerted to her to the other woman’s sensitivity or training, but it was certainly odd for someone to be out wandering around among the bedlam as if she were taking a stroll through the Voss gardens. “Young lady,” Stepping into the blonde’s path, Joza held out a hand and offered a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “It’s unsafe to be out and about now. Allow me to escort you to a safer location.” She paused, gaze raking up and down the other woman’s form. That was a cute outfit. Joza was honestly a little jealous that she was able to pull off an open cardigan like she did, but that was another story.