| Location | Iziz, Royal Courtyard
| Objective | Conquer and Overcome!
| Focus |
Alexander Garrick
Few opponents expected a lightwhip - nor its
peculiar fighting style. Jenn, for her part, used the weapon to its fullest extent in all-out offensives that left her exposed if carefully maneuvered around. Her intervention had not only destabilized the Sith and invigorated the Jedi, granting the latter something of a fighting chance, but it seemed the mighty Alor had attracted a fair bit of attention to herself - firstly, in the form of the much-dreaded example of Sith sorcery that was
lightning. Although her Shosenla'gam proved adequate enough in enduring the immensely challenging conditions of Force-induced trauma, it held no such protection for lightning itself... and, as an aquatic being, the Alor could only throw her head back and
scream in agony. It was blinding, white-hot pain, and she felt tears welling in her eyes from the sheer brutality of it. By the time the Sith was forced to contend with the Jedi once more, the mighty Mandalorian all but crumpled to the ground, whimpering in pain as she slowly mustered the will to stand back on her feet once more... and just in time, too.
Even as her warriors made good use of blaster, beskad and flame against the Brutetroopers and gave the civilians a chance to evacuate, it seemed she had found her own quarry. Or perhaps
she was the prey, and this obsidian knight the hunter. They were a
frighteningly good shot, given how fast they fired, clearly aiming for the (admittedly many) weak spots in her armor. Favoring speed over protection as she had, Jenn was a softer target than one might expect such a high value target to be - and the rapid deployment of her personal combat shield stood as the only reason for her survival. The blaster bolts crashed against the shimmering plasma shield, deflected back as the Mandalorian prepared a counter-attack, all too aware that she could only triumph if she turned the tables... or forced this prodigious warrior onto a more even playing field. If she allowed him to keep the initiative, then he would surely find a chink in her defense and make her pay for it.
The Siren had not earned her Jaig Eyes for nothing, and she proved to be just as observant as a shriek-hawk: she saw the grenade being primed, and made her move. Just as it arced through the air, the ferocious warrior's jetpack
roared to life, transforming what would have been a nimble side-step into a leap. It was hardly enough for her to make it out of the effective range, of course - the piercing, invisible "shriek" left her head swimming and her ears
burning with pain, even so that her aim was thrown off!
Thankfully, her choice of weaponry hardly required much
precision. What she needed was time, and she intended to
get that time by employing the emergency measure and problem solver her people so elegantly called
whistling birds. Near-incapacitated as she was as she landed in a near-crash, the missiles were already locked onto the target, and the soon soared through the air, almost...
gracefully.
The mighty warriors of the Clan, for their part, were quick to move back into a defensive position now that the advantage of surprise was fully expended: rather than pushing the assault, they prepared themselves for the inevitable counter-attack, taking cover as best they could - with some of the more lightly-armored members of the honor guard outright using the heavy infantry among them for cover. Whistling birds, wrist rockets, disposable missile launchers - a barrage of explosives met the reinforcements, soon followed by a hail of blasterfire from those strong enough to carry rotary cannons, giving opportunities for those armed with more conventional weapons to take aim and land their shots.
