Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction Operation: Save Lanik! ( PM to Join )

Music

Idle snowfall had grown to be a harsh storm. The wind no longer whistled its song but roared, the gentle fall of snow hailing downwards without mercy. Hood pulled tightly around his face, the boy trudged through it all, mind singularly focused on reaching the plume of smoke. He shook beneath the thick winter clothing. He’d spent hours within the snow. His temperature was beginning to drop dangerously low. Breaths came to him shallow and with great effort. Exhaustion whispered unconsciousness’ soothing lies throughout his body and any pain had long subsided in lieu of the numbing cold.

When weather’s frozen onslaught ceased abruptly it wasn’t until several moments later that it settled into the boy’s mind. He found himself in an artificial cave, brass metal lined the familiar sight. Warmth slowly crept its way up his limbs as large doors slid back into place behind him. The hall appeared vast compared to the sight the blizzard beyond the walls had afforded, though its true dimensions were humble. It was a reception area, little more than a foyer. There was a foreign sense of unease pushing at the edge of his mind, dark whispers attempting to break his resolve, but he ignored them. He didn’t break his progress forwards, what he sought lay just beyond the portal opposite his path of entry.

The hall past the foyer was even greater. A large forum, it had once been a place where more than a hundred souls could gather comfortably during times of festivity. Now it lay empty. The only sound that echoed was the quiet footsteps of metal feet, usually masked by music and chatter. The boy collapsed to his knees, the journey finally taking its toll. From beyond a ramp closer to the centre of the hall shuffled a silver figure, a familiar service droid, hands clasping the brown robes of a limp sentient being kept in tow. It dropped the body unceremoniously when its visual sensors registered the presence of another.

The droid approached, its metallic vocal cords voicing some medical concern as it came near the boy, though the words never truly entered into his mind. Realization of a deed far greater began to dawn on him as pain finally settled into his being. He wept as the droid lifted him as gently as its artificial limbs allowed, its directive reassigning priority from keeping its territory uncontaminated to rendering medical aid to a being in need. The health of the living far outweighed the importance of removing the recently deceased in a public place.


The whoosh of a door followed by several electronic beeps signalled to Bernard that the BD unit had fulfilled its purpose. Unfamiliar with the binary language of droids, he assumed the Unit was just happy to have rendered Imperial defences useless so quickly. He patted the unit on the head absentmindedly as his eyes wandered to where Ryv was holding several Sith troopers at bay. Red bolts either flew past harmlessly or collided with the kiffar’s plasma blade. Were it not for the deep focus he felt he might have let regret about not training with the other padawan more enter his mind. He was well aware of Ryv’s shortcomings in combat scenarios, something that gave him a brief moment of pause as he stood on the verge of Lanik’s cell.

For a moment he thought about calling out to the other Padawan, that he should be the one to prepare their target for rescue. Bernard was far more familiar with the defence against multiple blaster wielding opponents, specialising in the fifth form of lightsabre combat, and the kiffar had only made his entrance to the Order recently by comparison. He didn’t wield the blade with the same amount of fluidity or efficiency as Bernard would have liked to see.

Yet, despite the perceived importance of his concerns, he swept aside those thoughts. He could feel Ryv’s focus within the Force. He had learned to trust his fellow Jedi, to allow himself to rely on others. One Jedi could not win the war, but many working in tandem could. It still felt wrong, to relinquish control of his own fate into the hands of others, but he’d grown to trust again. Encounters on Peace, with other padawans such as Aaran, Auteme, and Loske had taught him the value of kinship and the importance of trusting your team. He was no longer alone in this fight, he was one of many and he had friends who trusted him. He was determined to reciprocate that gesture of good faith.

“Don’t let the red bolts bite.” It was perhaps the first joke he’d uttered in over one and a half decades. Humour helped compartmentalize stress, he’d read.

Stepping past the doorway into Lanik’s cell, Bernard was greeted by an unsettling sight. A torture table, strapped to it a man whose body had deteriorated greatly, torture induced scars visible plainly. White hair so similar to his own was strewn over the man’s face, where the subtle movement of lips was the only indicator of life, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. Something seemed familiar about the man, but Bernard couldn’t quite place it. As though the tortured figure was family of someone he’d met before, related to an acquaintance and thus similar in appearance.

As Bernard crept closer the lingering pain still echoing in the chamber began to build; a familiar sense of loss, one that threatened to break the seal of memories long buried and forgotten. He didn’t know why he was being so cautious. By all means, the man was left to wallow in the pain of torture, the only indication of a guard remained a crumpled mess of salvage off in the corner of the room. That was the faint sense of resistance Bernard had felt earlier, then. The grip on his lightsabre tightened as he neared the edge of the torture table.

The sense of déjà vu only began to intensify. He furrowed his brows in concentration, mind racing as it sorted through an avalanche of different memories and impressions in an attempt to find something that matched this moment. He leaned over the man from the edge of the table, brushing away the hair which concealed his identity. Recognition struck him as soon as the saboteur’s face stared back at him. A surge of emotion followed. Long forgotten hatred reared its hollow fires as his gaze locked not with a tortured Jedi but an agent of the Dark. Doubts began to fill the Jedi’s mind as he peered at the motionless figure.

This mission, could it have been a setup? Could Ryv have been falsely led to think a Jedi he believed to know had been captured? That the man he had seen was a deceiver masking themselves as a fellow adherent of the Light? He was frozen as he stared at those closed eyes, concealing whatever intent they harboured behind the mask of the unconscious.

He took a step back, instinctively entering into a more battle-ready stance, lightsabre now raised level with his midsection off to his side. The off-white blade rose from inactivity, painting the room a muted shade of blue. Deep breaths came and went as the blade began to slowly grow closer to the saboteur still strapped to the table. Its path was sure, its grip, however, unsteady. It shook ever so slightly as it moved towards the harness clinging to clothes permeated with blood and sweat. The blade hungered for more than mere metal, its wickedness’ only seal the Jedi’s mantra.

Lanik Dawnstar Lanik Dawnstar Ryv Ryv Darth Voyance Darth Voyance Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo
 
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"Maynard she's on my tail! " And soon enough Saber Five was cut off was her X-Wing blew by in an explosive fury ; the comms scrambling into indiscernable static as her fighter exploded into the blackness of space. The sight and sound drew Maynard out of his force drawn focus for a moment, a pit of dread filling his stomach as he knew all too well what just occured. Taking in a deep breath before he activated the 'Dog Fight' intertial compensator - the X-wing twisting down on a dime at an incalcuable speed before soon enough his fighter was pulsing down down towards Brujav, sending off a punishing volley leading her from over top of her - Maynard's vision tunneling after his body was punched with several gravity forces times over from the rapid maneuver.

Taking the bait - he began to follow her in tow towards the Star destroyer ; sensing the point defense volleys as they coursed through space in his direction ; attempting to twist and angle his fighter so they'd track and find themselves skirting dangerously close to the TIE elite he chased in pursuit in a hope that the flak might lead her to veer away from the destroyer or into a blind spot - leaving the two alone in a vicious scrap.

"Can't let this one outta my sights, buddy." Maynard said - all but honing in on her ; abandoning any shred of focus for the other fighters which clogged the space around the destroyers even as one of his squadron mates, Saber six was knocked out in a fiery blaze.

Captain Delilah Brujav
 
Sev leaped through the air towards the silent trooper, activating his saber midair. He was caught off guard when the mysterious commando redirected his momentum, throwing him into the adjacent control console. Sev's lightsaber flew from his hand as he hit the ground. The trooper raised his vibroblade and began to drive it down to impale Sev. Sev rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet, quickly jumping away and pulling his lost saber back into his hand with The Force, activating it.

He then took a defensive position, slowly and technically approaching the trooper, his blade in a high-ready position. His lungs burned with each breath and his cracked ribs cried out in pain with each step, but the intense adrenaline dump mixed with Sev's laserlike focus numbed the pain enough for him to continue the fight. As Sev came closer, he threw a tight thrust, attempting to bait the commando into making a mistake.

Sev Pitborn Sev Pitborn
 
She Left Behind A Legacy
She allowed herself to float pass the next high wall, striding through the labyrinthine with the tracings of a conduit worm -- with a detail in pursuit.

When it was on them to cut the turn, she was immediately met with resistance. A well-time pivot gave way for her corkscrewing body to step out as her lightsaber flashed forward, deflecting what attempts were made at stopping her; at this point she'd grown tired of the goose chase. Without missing a beat, she batted back blaster fire while backpedalling towards the next entryway.

She slowly moved into position. Now with the group prepping to advance, she whipped her lightsaber through a flurry and capitalized on the break by throwing herself back. With her saber ready for the next wave, she instead eased to a stop, giving a conduit a quick and almost casual-looking glance before she lashed out with the tip of her blade, slicing the conduit adjacent to the door lengthwise; and suddenly the entrance to the hall was filled with static fill spray, splattering against the ceiling and walls and showering down onto their location. With the door being forced into emergency closing she fell right into a sprint.

At the next cut in the corner,

"Master Jade." He said, nodding once to the Hapes native. Moving turning around to look behind him. "Fancy meeting you here." He said, a slight grin of audacity on his face. "I'm looking to cause a bit of a mess. Care to join me?"

Heh.

"Let's give it to 'em" She smirked.

---------

Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo | Darth Voyance Darth Voyance
 
The Light, the Dark, it all melded together into an unsubtle hodgepodge of chaos. The kind of chaos that could swallow up even the most prepared and self-obsessed of men, if they weren't careful. Sighing audibly, the Knight scratched his chin. He had assumed a few Jedi would show up, try to slither in, maybe even split up for his convenience! At least they'd split up.

He could head towards where the Jedi prisoner was held, but that seemed a bit risky - he was here to do the absolute minimum required of him as an Inquisitor, not to get his head chopped off by some lightsaber-wielding philistine.

Eventually, the selfishly ambitious part of him won out over the selfishly self-preservational part, and he began to make his way towards the more secure holding cells, the outskirts anyway. Maybe he could catch someone off guard, shock them into submission, and drag them back to his lab in chains. Force knows that would make all of this nonsense worth it.

OOC: Friend and foe alike can feel free to come my way.​
 
Lanik’s head slowly rose up, the gnarled curtain of ashen white hair swayed as it dangled over his face. Between the locks, Lanik’s eyes opened and from them piercing golden rings stared back out at Bernard. The torture table began to shake and rattled. Bolts spat loose, components ripped, and the straps snapped, as the Force raged around Lanik. The table dismantled itself and collapsed in a heap of debris and shrapnel. Lanik fell onto the black grates that made up the tiling of the floor. He landed in a kneeling crouch and slowly rose. Straightening his back and tilting his head high, he looked down at Bernard. A wicked smile stretched across his face, a smile that looked to manipulate the flesh as if it was not its own. The smile was out of place with its own face.

“Have you come to save me?” Lanik said, as an unknown feminine voice echoed behind his.

“Then you are too late Jedi,” Lanik continued taking deep strides closer to Bernard.

“I have no need to be saved. For I have been freed from your lies. Lies that burned me and burned my family away.”

Lanik raised his hands into tight fists that strained his muscles in taught bulges. Lightening arcs spat and arched over his fingers, riding up and down his forearms. He walked closer and closer to Bernard, each step unleashing a whirling darkside howl that shook the interrogation chamber.

“Though I may collapse and relapse into the disease that is your light know this Jedi,” Lanik threatened.

He pointed, “The Darkside is my master now. And no matter how much you poison me, I will return to it.”

Lanik flexed his fists into a claw and redirected the lightening in a massive burst that carried with it telekinetic shock as well as electric. It spat from his fingers and lunged at Bernard, azure tendrils of heat, pain, and deep malevolence. As all this happened, a dark shadow behind Lanik watched. As soon as it appeared it evaporated away, slithering like a vile mist into the grates below and vanishing. When it vanished, Lanik halted his attack, closed his eyes, and collapsed.

Darth Voyance Darth Voyance | Ryv Ryv | Bernard Bernard
 
She wasn't really meant to be there, but there she was.

Perhaps the Force had placed her there, on board that ship, at that time. Perhaps the Force had built the frustrations in her mind and tension in her shoulders that she had decided to take out on the ship's exercise centre.

Whap! Whap! Whap!

Her shin crashed against the padding in quick succession as she released kick after kick. Each clash sent the droid holding the pad rolling a few increments back. The droid quickly switched pads, causing Joycelyn to launch into a series of punches. Jab, cross, hook, jab. She pivoted as the droid switched again, then released a vicious round kick that sent the machine rolling back like a ball.

Joycelyn set down her foot and grabbed a wet towel from a rack next to her, wiping her forehead and neck as the droid rolled back to position. It lifted new pads, but she waved it off for the time being. The fabric wiped away the sheen of sweat that had been building up on her skin, replacing it with the coolness of the water of the towel. Her heart beat hard in her chest, her breath calmed a little from the cool water, and her shoulders un-tensed from the exertion.

She pulled the towel over her head and let it drape over her shoulders.

Behind her, she heard the door of the training centre open. No one was supposed to be there at the moment, so the sound was as unwelcome as it was unforeseen. Joycelyn turned sharply, setting her eyes on whoever stepped through.

"It's occupied."

Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor
 
A Light Shining in Darkness
In the Force, there was a vacumn of activity. Where most of the ship was drowning in the volatile class of the Darkside and the Lightside; but amidst it was Wyatt, as though he were the waking Eye of the Storm. There was nothing but peace within a few meters of where he walked, and his steps only took him slow - steady towards the nearest sensation of the Force he could find. Corrupted, brought back from the unnatural depths of Chaos - it was as though there were a necrotic corpse in a field of roses.​
Wyatt had to rid the ship of its presence.​
His pace, however, showed no inclination of that purifying crusade he seemed to be on. They were casual, like a sunday stroll through the ship - while his face was all the more calm. Every muscle was relaxed, no tension visible in his body, face, or hand; just the dangerous calmness that came with a Jedi Master at zen. The doors of engineering opened, and the three before them would see Wyatt Morga; standing tall, powerful, and all the more with a faint glow.​
Nothing.”, he replied cooly to Gabriel Pryce Gabriel Pryce .​
Voyance proposes she sees the future; but she is blind to the truth. A trap or not, the Jedi will pull Lanik from the depths of Sith cruelty.”​
Wyatt’s voice was odd - cold and unfamiliar to those who had heard him speak before. His eyes were calculating, watchful - but even more deadened than what one would expect. The once azure nature of his eyes became little more than a grey dullness, but with it, there was no sensation of what it was he meant to do. He carried none of the ill intent most Jedi did before combat, but he still held a glowing blue lightsaber that pulsed in the doorway.​
Just as her, I’ve seen that future. The difference is -”, Wyatt offered with jolt forward to strike at both of the Sith before him. He moved with a flash - over a century of skill driving him onward as a lightsaber moved with deftness to strike at the armpit of Vaulkhar Vaulkhar , while his free hand carried with it a Telekinetic charge that could drive a man into durasteel; and it was released with a sickening crack directly at the chest of Avernus Avernus .​
- I shall fulfill the prophecy myself.”​
 
This was exactly what he'd been hoping wouldn't happen.

The training room was supposed to be empty. Unoccupied, unused, any un-words that would fit with what the room was supposed to be right now. And yet, standing in the middle of it, was the crown princess herself: Joycelyn Zambrano, Darth Vornskr the Second. "Of course, your highness," he replied quickly. "I'll just be going the other way, then."

As he started stepping backwards, one hand fell to the hilt of his sword. He knew that the little ploy wouldn't work; he could see the recognition in her eyes, almost instantly. He sighed, stopping his retreat. "Alright, alright, let's get it over with. 'Stand your ground, Jedi! You'll never leave here!' I know that's the sort of stuff you want to say."

Cotan's stance shifted slightly, fully gripping his weapon; a near exact mirror of the stance he'd taken when last he and Joycelyn had fought.


"It's a shame that the scenery isn't as nice as last time."

Joycelyn Zambrano Joycelyn Zambrano
 
The vibrosword dug into the control panel - the phrik blade wholly unfettered as the metal dug through the internal electronic and computing systems beneath - drawing fire and sparks into the air. As vital as the weapon would prove for the Chiss in this encounter, time was in the favor of the Jedi within these crucial moments. Wrenching the blade free of the computer systems would've proven a suicidal venture. He had to act quick.

The shimmer and afterglow of blue cutting through the air toward the Chiss was an ever foreboding sight for the Commando. Any weaker sentient might've broken from the swift glow of such an elegant weapon cutting toward them. Its sheer aura and legacy as the dominant arm of the galaxy sent a spinebreaking shiver through most any that encountered it. The Purge Commandos had tempered it into a familiar sight. The thrust drew Wirm to twist his body for the thrust to scrap the cortosis weave duraplast cuirass before he'd surge forward wrapping his left arm around the Jedi's saber wielding forearm, pressing his other hand on the side of Sev's hip as he twisted his upper body towards Sev, pushing him away as his arm wrapped around his saber arm wrenched back to try and throw him to the ground and jolt the saber hilt from his grip.

Sev Pitborn Sev Pitborn
 
Darth Voyance’s snapped open. Her golden eyes flickered like binary stars in the cosmic void as they gleamed down at the Sith Oracle Stone held in her hands. Inside the undulating red vaporous visions of the Force revealed to her the interaction between @Bernard of Acra and Lanik Dawnstar Lanik Dawnstar . The pieces were now set.

The seed of betrayal and conflict sewn. She had set in motion what would become the downfall of that Jedi, Dawnstar, and the Jedi Master who had opposed her on Kintan, Wyatt Morga Wyatt Morga . Smiling, Voyance lowered the oracle stone and rested it on the desk she had sat behind. The stone gently came down on a cushioned perch and whirled like a red super giant. Voyance mumbled some spell in Sith High Language of ur-Kittat and caressed the stone’s polished surface, calming it into a dim red hue.

She focused her powers of the darkside for a new purpose. Her caressing hand recoiled into a claw and the darkside ripped the dark clouds of the stone a part to reveal a new vision – that of the beacons of the lightside that had come to infest her stellar residence aboard the Sith Imperial star destroyer Anguish. She poured her dark aura into the stone and with its filter spread it across the vessel. No doubt the Jedi would sense her foul presence in the Force, and she had hoped on it. She would raw them to her and let the little drama between Lanik and his would be rescuers play out undisturbed.

Voyance felt for the greatest light, for those that beamed as Jedi Masters – commanders of the Lightside. She had found one, with manner more following ( Romi Jade Romi Jade ). Voyance nodded and removed her hand. The stone went dull and ossified into a dark rough exterior as its powers faded. The Sith twi’lek lord rose from her seat and marched out of her quarters. Just before she reached the threshold she summoned her double-sided lightsaber to her dark gloved hands with the Force, and then stepped out. Utilizing an adjacent repulsorlift elevator she descended into the bowels of the ship.

When the doors to the elevator opened Voyance stepped out and reached out with the darkside once more. She was close. Passing through a few corridors she could feel the light glow hotter and brighter. Coming down one more corridor, she knew that they were just around the corner. Voyance, took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. The restricted exhale made her body tense and with this pain summon the darkside in a swelling pool.

She then threw out her hand smacked it against the wall of the corridor. She blew out the choked breath and following it the pool of dark power. It spat out from her lips, and the darkside spat from her fingers in a thundering arc of Force Lightning that ripped through the circuitry and the innards of the corridor walls. The lightning blew out circuits, paneling, lights, and mechanical infrastructure – turning the corridor the Jedi were in into a black abyss.

In this darkness, Voyance slowly approached using the confusion to focus her mind and body. She drew her lightsaber and as she walked closer to the one she had marked as the most powerful ( Romi Jade Romi Jade ), she sank into a Force Form known as Potency. She stopped and ignited the front blade of her double-sided lightsaber. The Mustafarian Lava Crystal inside producing a rattling, burning, and plasmatic fleck scattering beam, that hissed and crackled. The fiery lava flecks burned sweltering holes as they dripped onto the ruined corridor floor. The corridor itself was bathed in red and pushed back the dark into the ruined crevices of the walls.


Voyance_Gif_New.gif

[Gif by Bernard Bernard ]
Voyance's golden sith irises locked onto the Jedi and her eyes narrowed. Her lips bent into a snarl and her clenched fist squeezed, rending the black leather about her fist tight and taught. Voyance said nothing. Gave no menacing monologue, nor coy darkside remark. She only propelled the darkside into her legs and exploded into a full Force Speed amplified charge down the corridor.

 
Many a thing had befallen Lirka in her time since returning through the realm of the living: and for the glorified cadaver that tried to hack and slash the Jedi into little more than smoldering ribbons the most beneficial of those was the force abandoning her unnatural form, like the Yuuzhan Vong invaders of many centuries ago. When the force pushed smashed into her chest, it had an affect regardless, but the Sephi was thankful that she was only left thrown off balance rather than making a nice and hardy dent in the wall.

Letting out a low chuckle, more pain surging up her leg as the gooey mess that part of her undersuit had became melded to her flesh: Lirka seemed to generally disregard just how open to attack the maneuver had made her.

Jend-Ro Quill Jend-Ro Quill
 
The Force refused to get a grip on Lirka Ka Lirka Ka , much like trying to shove a Vong, but she'd staggered anyway. Quill connected the dots and came up with a quick theory: she was Force-dead, but her impressive metal armor wasn't.

He took two rapid steps back as she got her balance back. His left hand came off the saber and made a fist.

The goal was to make her big helmet and ornate breastplate crumple like a tin can. He wasn't out to kill her, just keep her from breathing or moving toward him much until she passed out.
 
The saber was once again ripped from Sev's grip as the mysterious commando expertly defended his thrust and countered with a creative grapple. Sev was once again thrown to the ground and disarmed. He reacted quickly, performing a reverse cartwheel and coming back to his feet drawing the crimson blade of the Sith to replace his own weapon.

The blood-red blade hissed to life as Sev once again used The Force to gain some distance. He began to take in his surroundings, looking for something to throw at the soldier telekinetically. Finding nothing, Sev improvised another plan. He charged the commando once again, using the Force to enhance his speed, closing the gap in the blink of an eye. He fainted a strike with the saber, instead leaping over the soldier and pulling his own saber back into his hand with the Force. He ignited his own weapon, it's icy blue glow contrasting with the scarlet sword of the Sith, before entering a flurry of strikes against the commando. He felt the Force flowing through him, as an aura of rage began to overtake his mind. Each strike was deliberate and vicious, fueled by determination and hate.

Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask
 
She Left Behind A Legacy
She'd straightened her back -- she was pulling herself out of her running form.

Her face became flushed, as she sought to fight through the sudden rush of apprehension by digging her fingers into her temple. There was a chill; It whipped through her frame and down her spine, taking the unease with it. She got a feeling. Centering herself for a moment, she pressed her palm against the durasteel for stability, but she was back after propelling herself off and into a light jog.

There was a brief moment of silence, but it carried an ominous overarching cord that she wasn't just then concerned about -- until the lights were suddenly blown out, prompting her body to lurch through a series of confused motions.

"What the--Aaran are you alright?" her head whipped around in his direction, and then back carefully. Staring down the dark abyss, she took a step back into the shadows of the corridor.

Abruptly her danger sense flared or had been flaring; but even as she stood there she knew it was too late.

Snap-hiss!

She stopped and ignited the front blade of her double-sided lightsaber. The Mustafarian Lava Crystal inside producing a rattling, burning, and plasmatic fleck scattering beam, that hissed and crackled. The fiery lava flecks burned sweltering holes as they dripped onto the ruined corridor floor. The corridor itself was bathed in red and pushed back the dark into the ruined crevices of the walls.

Her blonde hair shone with reflected highlights as the red glow permeated the corridor. She casually tilted her head back, running a hand up to push one of her locs back, "That was a graceful entrance."

A beat. She was expecting some sort of banter...but was left surprised this go round; a bit disappointed.

"Feeling confrontational...alright"

Vvnn!

She drew out her lightsaber. Widening her stance, she held the weapon in a balanced two-handed guard: holding the lightsaber vertically in a guard high by her right ear. In her minds eye she could see her opponent drawing on the force herself, almost as if she was tearing it from air the around them, warping it. Whatever it was made the air grow thick and heavy...swelling between them. Romi steadies her senses, drawing them close.

She only propelled the darkside into her legs and exploded into a full Force Speed amplified charge down the corridor.

She stepped forward in a burst of speed to meet her the rest of the way, though lacking much of the assisted power -- she leapt the last step, slashing her glowing blade through a furious, humming blur; two-handed.

-------

Darth Voyance Darth Voyance
Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo
 
Cotan Sar'andor Cotan Sar'andor

For a moment, she had almost not noticed who it was. After all, no one was supposed to be there, not even she. She had arranged it such to give herself a rare gift; a moment solitude to nurture her foul mood of late.

But oh, she recognised Cotan. She remembered their duel on Azure well.

"You know me so well."

Zaudraka had been hanging on the wall in its scabbard. It was too dear to her to leave behind in her quarters, and in times like these, it was good to have near. But as Cotan gripped his sword, Zaudraka jumped out of its scabbard and into Joycelyn's hands. The black blade left a trail of sparks as it cut through the air, and settled comfortably into Joycelyn's hands.

"Did you bring me a gift this time?"

Her stance broadened as she brought the long sword over her left shoulder and twisted her body to wind up for a large strike. In ways, her position mirrored Cotan as they were both wound up for a strike that could hit at some distance, but either had yet to release it.

She stared at Cotan over her right shoulder, taking long, deep breaths.
 
"Are you implying my presence isn't gift enough?"

Cotan flashed the princess a grin, pressing gently on the crossguard of his weapon with his thumb; the blade shifted a fraction of an inch, freeing itself from the grip of its scabbard, ready now to be drawn to strike or defend at a moment's notice. An art of combat all its own, to ancient Jedi, Je'daii, and the groups that predated them, one that didn't truly translate to the lightsaber.

His eyes drew, for an instant, to Joycelyn's weapon specifically. It was interesting, how similar their blades ended up being once Cotan had crafted his own; so too the differences between them. Cotan's was perhaps more heavily curved, Joycelyn's more ornamented, more aggressive in appearance. The difference between Jedi sensibilities and Sith, or between a scholar and a soldier. The weapons' other properties as well, fire and ice, always in competition.

"Perhaps you'll enjoy the demonstration of my new blade more than seeing my handsome face, your highness." He shifted his weight slightly, drawing lower, a spring tightly compressed before leaping into action. "Unless you'd care to surrender now, and save us both the trouble?"

Joycelyn Zambrano Joycelyn Zambrano
 
Handsome blindfolded hyper-religious whackjob
Romi was not the only one who felt the chill in the air. The tensing of moods. The way the steel of the walls seemed to creek almost ominously around the pair as they made their way through the halls. He halted in his run at the same time as the Hapes Royal. Trusting in the Master that his gut feeling was correct.

Something was coming. The rippling wave of darkness seeping into the walls held the Padawan tight for a moment, pangs of anxiety and adrenaline racing through his body, only to be quickly smoothed away. Replaced by a cool, dispassionate serenity. No emotion. Peace. Unlike those other times he had faced against a powerful champion of darkness. He was here with support. He had heard many a tale of Romi Jade Romi Jade 's expertise with a blade and her many triumphs over the Sith in the past. Regardless of who it was that was causing such a fell feeling to linger on the air. He was confident that between the two of them. They could handle it.

"I'm fine Master Jade." He replied, his own voice, previously upbeat and carrying a note of mischef had deepened into a cool utterance. His own mind sinking into his battle trance. Mind focusing as his body tensed. Sensing a fight on the horizon.

But as Darth Voyance Darth Voyance appeared, both of the Masters could feel it. A cold pit of dread appearing in the Padawan's stomach. This was no blowhard like Aperon. Or some lunatic cultist like Kyrel Ren. But a genuine member of the Dark Council. Someone who's commit countless atrocities without a thought. Who commanded powers that the average inhabitant of the galaxy could barely imagine. With a similar snapping hiss to Romi's own saber. His silver blade ignited at the sight of the Twi'lek. Cutting through the gloom of the darkened corridor.

"Well. Cultists need to be dramatic. It helps sell their druk." He said in response to Romi's own comment. Allowing some humour to creep it. A positive attitude helping to cope with the anxiety that was rising up inside him.

And before he knew it. Both combatants had vanished. The air tearing around them as both Jedi Master and Sith Lord drew upon their mastery of the Force. Appearing as blur's to the Padawan's own impressive reflexes. It was in that moment, Aaran realised just how incredibly arrogant he was. Figuring that for all that he had survived, he may have actually stood a chance against a true master if they had done anything more than played with him.

Oh how wrong he was. Watching the pair engage was humbling in its own way. Showing the Padawan that for all his raw talent. There was still so much for him to learn before he could hope to match such artisans in terms of swordsmanship or command of the Force. A slow seed of frustration began to grow inside the Padawan. Annoyance at the fact that for everything he wanted to do. For the friend he wanted to save. He was unable to accomplish anything of note here.

And for a moment. That frustration won out. Mentally kicking himself, Aaran reminded himself of a single fact. He was not a spectator. But a Jedi. His duty was to combat the Sith and protect others from their influence. Even if Romi Jade was more than capable of defending herself. He would not stand idly by while evil prospered right in front of him.

Calling upon the Force to augment his own body. Aaran kicked off. Racing after Romi. And while his own speed was but a fraction of the Hapes native and Dark Oracle. It was still well in the upper limits of human potential. And what he lacked in speed. He had more than an advantage against the much smaller Twi'lek in both reach and raw power. Drawing on his desire to win this fight. His need to protect his friends. The satisfaction he would feel in seeing the Oracle brought low. The Padawan exploded in a flurry of the first kata of Vaapad. And while each of his swings had nowhere near the finesse or skill of a true master. His brute strength and ferocity alone would hopefully be enough to keep the Sith on her toes and give Romi Jade and opening to finish the fight.
 
Feeling the metal whine, Lirka quickly learned that being that slug in the force: some slimy creature that no one could get a proper grip on. Didn't quite apply to the metal she had been so interested in wearing everywhere...letting out a roar once she realized what the Jedi was planning: her blade swung out wide, trying to abuse the reach that her massive size gave her.

Mid swing, the metal gave, crushing on itself as it crushed bone, and shards stabbed into skin, staggering forward once again: blood rolling out from the crumbled dents that had been rent open in the armor. Falling to one knee, crimson staining the pristine ground of the Star Destroyer. But even as they stood here, the flesh beneath slowly began to reknit. Even with the damaged state, with strained and distorted wheezing coming from the destroyed helm: hateful eyes starred out at Jend-Ro Quill Jend-Ro Quill , a monotonous iron grip kept on the handle of her blade.
 
Lirka Ka Lirka Ka

He'd come across regeneration before - Trandoshans and Icarii, mostly - and had a wary respect for it. Two emotions warred in him. The first was relief that his brutal maneuver hadn't killed her outright.

The second was genuine fear. And not just from jumping back to avoid her abortive strike, either. This being was a titan, and Quill was just a middle-aged man in burlap.

With an apologetic wince, he applied similar force to her metal boots and dashed away. Ideally, she wouldn't be able to follow at any significant speed, giving him time to find the prisoners and start liberating them.

Ideally.
 

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