Invasion Rage Awakened (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Bastion & PL-40112-CE-021105)

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「BLOOD AND GUTS」​

In his concussed blur, Zaaik's momentum clumsily faltered with the strike that Aradia batted away. Feet unable to keep the tempo of his follow-through, he stumbled past her side. Danger assaulted his senses, a dull and distant signal behind the throbbing in his head that beckoned him to how and where he should defend himself. Shoulders and hips torqued to turn, but his feet remained tied amongst themselves, unable to coordinate past the wild oscillation of the world around him.

A horrible, scorching slice assaulted the nerves in his back. Just beside his spine, plasma incinerated flesh from the base of his hips up a black, cauterized snaking path up to the back of his neck. Another loud grunt of anguish and his legs gave as he plummeted towards the floor. Jacket split in two, falling down his arms as he caught himself with either hand and resting around his wrists.

The sleeveless shirt beneath, saturated in his own blood, hung on only by a few threads at the neck and brim. Disfigured epidermal lines sprawled his exposed arms in disgusting, erratic melted patterns. Crude prosthetic attached below the left elbow with little more than bracing spikes, the absence of synth flesh allowing the unsettling leyline between flesh and cybernetic to display. All of these things; testaments to his sufferings, and failures. Now, a dark swath of flesh burned away had been added to the gallery.

Zaavik struggled to stay on his knees and forearms, nearly resigning flat on his stomach several times as he crawled forward at a pitiful pace. One arm suddenly flung back, sending the unignited saber blade toward Aradia and the remnants of one side of his jacket flinging to the side. He twisted, near-screaming in pain as he landed on his opposite side, the fingers caught beneath his hip crunching further. With that hand free of obstruction, he fidgeted desperately for his rear-concealed blaster.

A slow, wobbly aim sent a stun bolt wide, whizzing past Aradia and slamming into the ceiling, and knocking a tile ajar from the frame. Another shot, only to a similar effect. His vision was to split, and he was too dazed to have any hope of hitting. Yet, still, he fired again.

 

[Kesran Opadal]

Objective: Ravelin, Bastion
Allies: TSE | EE | CIS Luna Terrik UX-0626 Alina Tremiru Iasha Rha Dimitri Voltura
Enemies: NIO | GA Noel Strasza Kolson Vrask Ragnar the Untested
Engaging: Noel Strasza

Kesran smiled as he saw the Sith trooper fighting back, at least some soldiers were loyal and unrelenting.

He then turned his gaze back to the troopers and their leader

No, they weren't afraid, he could now feel it, it must have been others, farther away.

The force had betrayed him, just like the ancient Sith Lord Exar Kun had warned him.

"The force is powerful, but it will turn against you, remember that"

Kesran had screwed up again and now that his gaze returned to his front, the Snowtrooper Noel Strasza had charged at him.

As she approached, he could see she was more cyborg than human. He hesitated, a force push could work, but would only send her back couple of feet. By the time he razed his chin to face her, she was already too close.

"Agghh Kesran, you stupid idiot", he thought to himself.

Another reckless & pointless show of power, against an enemy he wasn't prepared for.

Fear crept in himself, gnawing at his mistakes and miscues.

But as the troopers charged at him, it was replaced by something else

Anger and Rage

How dare she, who was this soldier? Some misguided soul who lost most of her body for the men that she served who were probably the same men who caused her to lose her humanity in the first place.

His rage now boiled through to the ceiling of his body, from head to toe.

His face formed a serious angry glare.

He now saw her shoot a sort of slug round.

Fine, he had durasteel knee braces, so when he blocked the round with his saber, the shards still went to his leg, but only a few reached the skin. There was pain, but he experienced pain before and far worse than this. This was nothing compared to what he had suffered on Taanab.

Pain was easy for Kesran, stupid trooper, didn't realize that Sith are built by pain. Whatever the injury was, he didn't care. It was only flesh.

The electrical charge she had released was gunning straight for his stomach. He saw it coming, more than the trooper would think. He actually would applaud her tactics if she was on his side.

Right before it landed, He stepped back to gain leverage and stuck out his hands outstretched.

The energy siphon she blasted at his gut couldn't stopped wholesale. However, he used his force powers to latch onto it with the force, slowing it down and stopping it completely for split second as the back of his hands were now almost against his chest, as he struggled to slow down the object. But he did, he stopped it and then sent it upwards through the remnant ceiling of the ship, bursting a hole right through it. This would all seem to happen within

Having stopped the danger, he thought quickly for second as he had never encountered Imperials like this. He now looked at her shoulder, the Doom Division.

He should of known.

They were Halketh 's personal experimental zombie squad or something. He had heard rumors.

Not rumors anymore, as one of them was right in front of him.

Apparently they were force-dead, which now that made sense to why his force influence hadn't worked pre-hand.

He now knew what he could do to her, as he stood back up straight and stared at the trooper, right into her eyes.

He could not feel nor sense anything, yep, definitely force-dead.

He was actually a but intrigued, maybe he would ask Halketh before he killed him.

But that didn't matter now as he realized that the loyal Sith trooper UX-0626 might need help with these interlopers.

He would help and sent them all to oblivion.

Kesran now stared at Noel Strasza and her metal cyborg being.

She might be force-dead, but that didn't mean her armor and cybernetics were force resistant. Then without any hesitation, he pulled his hands close to each other, while the force started to bend and crack her metal frame. He could break her whole, but that would take far too long. He just needed to slow her down so he could kill the rest of her squad, or at the very least, escape. The force would hold her in place as well, not being able to move in slightest.

He bent her exo-suit in several places, especially her legs and chest. She would be forced to freeze, not being able to move without risk of being bent worse than she would, especially with both her legs and her chest being the primary targets. However, before he could finish, a few of her troopers rushed in and began opening fire. Darn, he was only able to crack apart of her chest. It would have done more if she wasn't all cyborg. It would at least damage her systems for a short time and several parts of her legs were bent and dented in deeply.

As the enemy troopers fired, Kesran grinned. He used the force and jumped backwards with a few backflips, dodging their blaster bolts. He then threw his saber extremely fast at the trooper to the far right, reaching him before he could realize and decapitating him on impact. He summoned the saber back to his hand almost immediately and then attached it to his belt just as quickly.

With the troopers still firing, he used the force to pick a few of chairs from the wreckage and throw them at his adversaries. They didn't probably harm them, but would slow their fire. Immediately afterwards, he jumped through a hole in the ceiling, created by the crash, leaped all the way out of the transport and landed several meters outside it. He than ran out farther to see what was going on, before the troopers came at him again.

His fellow Acolyte, Alina Tremiru was doing well, he guessed, against Ragnar the Untested. Mostly because he saw that she was still alive and wasn't able to watch most of her encounter with the Zabrak.

He then turned all the way around and saw the Sith soldier UX-0626 still firing back at the enemy troops. He used a quick application of force speed to race over there in less than 3 seconds and ran to stand on top of a dirt mound several yards from her position.

As he looked to her quickly, he gave her a wink, to let her know they would be fine, even though she seemed rather composed and confident.

He then took out his saber and went to a Soresu stance and began wheeling his saber as blaster bolts came at them from the crashed ship and behind it. He began blocking bolts left and right, left and right, continuously. He would tire eventually, but for now he was blocking the bolts effectively and a couple had been redirected and had struck two more troopers.

 

[DT-7343 'Jabber']

W E L C O M I N G_T H E_P R O D I G A L_S O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DEATH TROOPER
I AM NO KNIGHT
BASTION MUST NOT FALL

Hellion-class Commando Armor MK.I | KXR TL-60x Heavy Particle Beam Repeater | REC-DC/04 "Feverwasp" - Pattern Particle Blaster Pistol | REC-ACS/01 “Batillum” - Pattern Entrenching Tool | STRND-series 'Oscillation Point' Hunter-Seeker Utility Droid | GORGON-Class Prototype Physiological Augmentations | Gifts for Good Boys

​

There was a lot to process after Dantooine. How the Empire had fallen, and in its ashes, several warlord states had emerged, bloody and screaming. How much- and how little- the political landscape had changed since he was last briefed. Old targets that GORGON had been preparing to make devastating hits, gone or in the hands of other non-intervening powers.

Aboard the military vessel as he sat within the armory, the smell of gun oil and military hardware was comforting to the man who had just experienced a time-shift. Like walking into one's old room, and seeing how much dust had gathered in their absence. Now that he had been nursed back to health in what short time they had spent on his failing body, it was apparent why he had issues as his old past self as a farmhand.

He flexed his fingers and stared at the matte-black glove, feeling the familiar, enveloping sense of claustrophobia that permeated his very skin.

Jabber took in a deep gulp of stale, sterilized air from the ship, as much air as he could until his lungs threatened to burst.

Then he exhaled explosively.

Assessing the situation in the back of his mind, he held onto the newly imprinted facts: the Sith and the Imperial Bureaucracy had fallen apart. The schism rendered the Empire- or whatever successor to it since he last remembered- apart. The New Imperial Order was now at war with the newly mantled Sith Empire.

Who were allied with the Jedi and the Confederacy.

His gut twinged, remembering the Confederacy- Tatooine. The giant naval furball that was the talk of every officer back then. He remembered winning, though at significant cost.

The man-more-robotic-and-more-mutant stared at the metal floor, blinking to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Too many questions needed answering.

He stood up and quickly slipped his old metal face back over flesh, bone and modifications. There was no way he was going to find all the answers he wanted sitting in the armory.

Jabber followed the faintly familiar ship's corridors until it brought him to the deployment bay of the vessel, where it was mostly empty, save for those who were scheduled to make a heated entry into Bastion. Other Death Troopers, who paid him no mind save for his personal 'stick' of 6- DT 6813, 8911, 5241, 0712, 9975 and 4379. If they had names, he didn't want to remember them. He claimed a drop pod, stuffing his equipment into the metal coffin and ignoring the sounds of soft, gentle chatter behind his back. It nudged a mental rock in his memory that he didn't want to deal with, not now and not without therapeutic mental support.

Instead, he tapped his helmet and made a circle motion in the air, signaling his unit to form up around him. If they paid him respect, it was only out of deference to his rank and history. None of them had seen each other in combat, nor formed any particular personal bond. It was all dry business. "We've identified some of the access points we can use to outflank the Sith from above. Here, here and here-" He pointed at the holographic map emanating from his gauntlet.

"We make a hot drop into the battlefield and converge once all of us are in the tunnels. From this point out, we are callsign-" The soldier paused, thinking hard for a name. As much as he wanted to revive the old team, it had specific connotations that the new generation wasn't aware of. But they needed a name, so he came up with one. "-CHARYBDIS." On cue, all members of the fireteam updated their unit callsigns- DTs 6813, 8911, 5241, 0712, 9975 and 4379 became listed as CHARYBDIS 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 respectively. He looked at his HUD and saw himself demarcated as CHARYBDIS 1- their handler, who had yet to make themselves present, would assume the mantle of CHARYBDIS-Actual.

"CHARYBDIS 1 and 4 will take lead. 6 and 2 will take rear, but we will be joined in by auxiliary detachments. Watch your fire, we don't need blue-on-blue in this mission." There was an imperceptive nod that rippled through the team, noticeable only by enhanced or otherwise inhumane eyes, customary of all DT-enhancements. Number Four spoke up, her stance slightly more casual than the rest: "ROE?"

"Assume hostile until clearance is given. We have some friendly units down there, but they are for the most part, outnumbered or otherwise outgunned-" The ships alarm blared as they approached their mission drop. Jabber flipped the map close and gave a dismissive wave. "Shoot first, ask questions later. Get to your pods."

The robotic announcement sent everyone else in the bay running. "Vessel approaching Drop Vector Alpha. All assault units, prepare for mission drop. Vessel approaching Drop Vetor Alpha. All-"

Jabber locked the noise of his head and entered the pod, watching as the doors slowly clamped shut, leaving him in the darkness with only the panels and lights from the pod's various consoles with him. He hung across from CHARYBDIS 3, who gave him a salute. Jabber returned it, and then slipped his hands into the control joysticks to his left and right.

The lights on the top flashed red once. Twice. Three times.

Green.

* * * * *​

Rubber padded soles tread softly, purposefully and with vigor throughout the tunnels of Ravelin. Thud, thud, thud went the boots of tall, black rats that infested the sewers of their home.

"STHLOHIESAEAD." went the leader of the rat pack. Their robotic voices echoed throughout the tunnels, alerting the rat catchers. Voices of men and women bearing red-and-black insignias scurried about frantically to halt their approach.

But the rats had come out to play, and bit harder than their brethren mice. They funneled out of the hallway and each rat was responsible for their own chosen rat catcher. One would hardly be remiss to consider how mere rats could take down grown, trained hunters of rodents.

The secret was that these rodents had very, very sharp teeth. And were the size of fully grown men, armed with weapons provided to them by the top rat of their hierarchy.

Mere rat catchers stood no chance- each rat shot off a single blast and de-materialized every single Sith legionnaire present in the room. It was mechanical and it was heartless- an execution wasn't too far off.

"RMTNEDIAET." was the simple statement that ended the episode.

CHARYBDIS 1 surveyed the checkpoint. When the man-in-iron ordered his unit to sweep forward, he took it beyond the expected: deep penetration of the enemy lines. Terrain like this, where tunnels could open up behind them, you were always constantly surrounded. Which was why he didn't want to stay too long in one spot.

He turned around and caught the eye of the members of Demon Company that was their rearguard up until this point. He pointed towards the person he presumed to be their leader- the HUD identified him as 'Tulan'- and pointed forward at the branching tunnel network. "URYUOOTRHNATTEKLTEEAD."

Looking around at his 6-man team, he jerked his head to the rear of the formation. He had to force himself to remember that beyond their troop designation, he had very little in common with the more modern 'death troopers'.

He tried not to think about the loneliness of it all.

CHARYBDIS Team reassembled behind the flametrooper squad, keeping a tense and low profile. There was an unspoken agreement- no one would make any presumptive comments during missions. A tradition that sprung up since the last days of the Galactic Empire.

TRANSLATIONS
Hostiles ahead.
Terminated.
Your turn to take the lead.​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Tulan Kor | Rurik Fel | Detritus Ren | Hans Rennagen | Romi Jade | Agrrur'arr | Joneleth Tarkin | Areyon | Dorian Sicarrio | Elicia Hejaran | Jaeger Harrsk | Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Other Space Kaiden | Xeykard

[DRAFT PURPOSES ONLY]​

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru | Kesran Opadal
ENGAGING: Halketh
OTHER ENEMIES: New Imperial Forces and Allies
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour
Pack of 15x Voxyn

Fire. Carnage. Death

The words rang through his head as moved in blur, unseen by most. This is what a Dragon wroughts. Darth Anguis’ teachings paraded through his thoughts with fanfare. Was that what he was once more? Is that what he would bring this day? The monster of old?

Her face swam before his eyes as these thoughts came into being.

If it meant seeing Eenia Vahn once more, he would. It was unbearable to even think that the last he spoke to her, it was in argument. That that may have been the last time he would ever see her. For that sole reason, he would raise the Dragon once more.

As he made it to the boulevard leading up to the Fortress, he sent the Voxyn into the fray. The deadly, 8 legged canines pushed forward, their disease-covered claws and sonic screeches wracking through the New Imperial lines.

The Sith Lord swept through the confusion his Voxyn wrought, cutting down those that got in his way, the few stray blaster bolts bouncing off his armour harmlessly.As he moved closer to the Fortress, he could feel a cold malice within the fray. He had felt this kind of Darkness only a few times before in his long life.

A powerful Necromancer.

Dimitri recognised the signs as undead troopers stood in his way to reach the Fortress. The fact that a Necromancer was present somewhere may cause a few problems for him, which he could not afford.

With relative ease, the Sith Lord manipulated the flames around them, sending a raging inferno into the line of undead troopers in his way, sending them back to the Nether from whence they have been woken. It was then that he caught sight of the source of the risen dead - a Miralukan that exuded substantial Dark power.

With good manners to boot.

Dimitri lifted his chin, drawing hard on the Darkness and carnage that raged all around them, a slight smile spreading on his lips.
“It would be wonderful if we could both have a cup of tea afterwards and discuss some of the old times. However, I do have a prior engagement in the building behind you that I need to attend first. Now, if you would excuse me.” he said eloquently before sending a powerful Force pulse towards the man. Anyone who raised New Imperial troopers from the dead to defend the Fortress was no friend to the Sith Empire.

Immediately he moved forward in another unnatural blur, keeping the Force close and his senses on high alert as to his surroundings.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.


FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「FIVE SECONDS」

A quiet, stifled gasp quietly compensated for the lack of air in his lungs. Chest and shoulders rose with each subsequent breath in an exaggerated fashion. "Foitan banas," fuck's sake, he bleated as he rubbed his throat with his right hand.

Five seconds had passed.

"Thirty seconds?" Zaavik scoffed, upper lip curling with vexation. "This is gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds, you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Five more seconds passed.

He sighed. No preparations as to what he was going to say had been made prior. This entire endeavor had been spontaneous, and he was playing it by ear for better or worse. "No tricks," he reassured begrudgingly. He showed his hands, turning them once over and them back, keeping them where she could see them. "You're torn up about what happened here, it doesn't take an empath to figure it out. I get it, I really do. I've been there too, believe it or not. Not just losing everyone, but to death's door as well."

Five seconds left.

"The residual echoes gave me a vision; I saw you die here, in the courtyard, nearly drowning in your own blood. I don't know how you're still here-"

Time's up.

"But I know it wasn't the work of any Sith."

Zaavik had been counting the seconds in his head, he was ready to snap his hand down to his saber if he had to. Yet, still he continued regardless.

"I know you don't want to let anything like that happen again. Not even just to yourself, either. But you're on the wrong path. The Sith do that kind of shit on a planetary scale on a near-constant basis. I can see the good in you, you mean well, but you're misguided."

There was a pause, Zaavik gauging the atmosphere before his next sentiment.

"I came here because I can help you."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Her heart pulsed in her ear, the tip of her saber subtly wavering with each internal thump thump thump. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Her thoughts raced, her eyes searching for a sign of mockery. The boy was as serious as stone, an earnest edge to him imploration. He saw her. It disarmed her.

Was this an apology?

The saber lowered a centimeter, her chest puffing in distress as he painted a picture of that day. She didn't like to think about her death. She didn't like that he knew about it. Standing before him, she felt vulnerable. Raw.

Confused.

It distracted her from an off set of words, her gaze boring into him-- Hungry for recognition, desperate to feel whole again. Thirty seconds had come and gone, and he still held her attention.

"How?" She asked, her voice tight and mistrusting.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




Getting this far was unexpected. Every expectation was that she'd try to strike him down the moment he finished speaking. At least he was getting somewhere. It was a much better start than he could have realistically hoped for. Though, he was beginning to understand that the closer he got, the thinner the tightrope would get. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for anything other than a full send. Beyond the walls of the redoubt, the battle raged indifferent to this encounter. Every breath taken in silence was time wasted.

"You're in pain. Desperate to scrub a layer of soot from your skin that won't wash away. Hate won't be a solvent, it'll only bring you more suffering. I know what happened was wrong, horrible, but we can do our damndest no make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You don't trust me, I know, and to be honest, I'm not exactly your biggest fan either."

Zaavik slowly offered out his hand. Durasteel-cortosis alloy glittering with a weathered sheen beneath the artificial light overhead.

"But it's my duty to help you. Not just as a Jedi, but as someone who's been exactly where you are. That wound will fester forever, it's not something you can just forget, but you can soothe it. It would be unfair and dishonest to try to convince you otherwise. We can't ever make it right, but we can do right by you. Come with me, leave the Sith behind, open your eyes to a better path. You can make a difference this way, a crusade for vengeance isn't going to save anyone, it's only going to eat you up inside."

"Isn't it already?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

He had her. He really did. His words hit feelings she had never been able to give names to. He said it like it was. He validated her, no excuses. No blame on her.

Goosebumps speckled up her arms, a surreal prick of emotions hitting her tear ducts. For a moment, it felt okay. To feel. To hurt. It was horrible. It was wrong! And she deserved to hear it-- she deserved-

"Come with me, leave the Sith behind,--"

Her expression froze, the emotions bleeding from the planes of her face. And that was the exact moment everything he had to say meant diddly chit.

"You're trying to recruit me," she said, a dangerous edge to the emotionless statement. She beheld the cornered jedi, the tight rope he walked held taunt, moments from snapping.

Or maybe it already had.

She left him to sweat it out, her hand clenching on her hilt as she took a single, harmless step towards him. "Why?"

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"Recruit you?" A humorous scoff slipped wryly from between his lips. "Ostensibly, maybe. Though, not even I would be so naive to think I, or anyone for that matter, may make a Jedi out of you." Zaavik smirked briefly, his glare softening in a non-aggressive fashion. "I thought about it, and maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see it." The offered hand dropped halfway, making room for her approach while also retreating in a paranoid touch-avoidant gesture. Ironic, given the nature of the gesture in the first place.

"I'm sure plenty would've said the same about me, though." Truthfully, he himself was quite possibly the worst excuse for a Jedi he'd ever met. Knighting had felt like a sham, war hero commendation too, he didn't deserve anything. That's why he was trying to earn it now, make a difference. Whether it was the truth or his own twisted perspective on himself changed nothing. What he'd done all the way up to where he stood now couldn't ever be changed. You had to live with these things.

"I just want to help you, like I said. Jedi or otherwise, just not a Sith. The Dark Side is voracious, and it devours you with every passing second. So too, is the hate that you bottle. Mine has already eaten more of my than I can ever hope to get back. I don't want that for anyone. Not even a Sith."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A dry laugh caught in her chest, his words earning a near roll of her eyes. "Oh when you put it that way. I'm flattered." She kept approaching, her steps lazy yet pointed as she drove him back. There was no window in this room. There was no escape spare the door at her back. She bounced the saber in her hand, the tip held off to the side.

"You know. For a moment I thought you might actually be decent. But I'm so stupid," she cursed, her head shaking in passionate dismissal. "Such an idiot to think I could actually get understanding out of someone like you. You spout the craziest chit, you know that? As if I'd abandon the people that need me." She pointed the saber his way, its length bouncing haphazardly as she gestured. "The people you want to kill." The blue hue reflected in her eyes, intense as her fury broke free.

"You will never. Speak. Of my pain. Again," she uttered, her voice rasping with righteous indignation. Firey hot tears boiled over, the wounds of her past laid open and bare. It was his fault. For prying. For being a prick. For taking part in the systematic murder of people-- he was no savior. He was no hero. She didn't buy his excuses. She saw him as he was and she held him to it.

"I hate you!"

She descended on him in a flurry, streak of red and blue as she went to deliver a silencing blow across his neck.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

A grimace materialized over Zaavik's face when the laugh reached his ears. The final thread on the rope had finally broken. Whatever silver he had on that tongue of his clearly hadn't been worth its weight in words this time. Fingers twitched, muscles in his body near-trembling with anticipation of whatever twitch-reaction he'd need to make next to save his skin.

Every opportunity he had to retort was stifled by her continual rebuke. Words had probably outgrown their usefulness now. Cerulean eyes followed the blue droning of saber tip as she whisked it around with the camber of her words. He wasn't listening anymore. She was going to strike, it was clear, all attention reallocated to the secret top priority of this entire endeavor: not dying.


"I hate you!"

Couldn't help but hear that part, though. Visions of the saber's trajectory flooded his middle-consciousness with a pang of danger only split-instant before she began to strike. Eyes widened suddenly, head reeling back along with the bending of knees. Spine and sinew contorted suddenly into a low backward lean, slipping just beneath the would-be deathblow. He snapped back up, snatching his saber on the way up and sending the viridescent blade screaming to life with the distinct hiss that only a lightsaber could make.

A step back sought to put space between them, but his back bumped the wall halfway in. He pointed his saber forward in a defensive gesture and half-shrugged wryly. "Well, welcome the club then, I guess."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She screamed in his face, the motion senseless and even wild as he made light of her pain. There was insult in what he had just tried to do. There was pain in the pain he tried to use against her-- pain he was responsible for.

She would not be manipulated. She would hold him accountable.

She felt so foolish.

The room surged with energy, dark and twisted. She jumped up, her head brushing the high stone ceiling. The energy imploded, telekinetic tendrils ripping the shelving off the walls. In her fury, she was stronger. The metal units went tumbling down towards him. She fell after it, her hair flowing around her like a vengeful halo as she came down with an overhead strike.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

Pupils dilated to a black speck on a cerulean backdrop. Adrenaline coursed along with the force, every muscle revving for their next move. A second hand grasped his saber hilt, thumb sliding over to press the activator to send the second blade erupting from the opposite end. Controlled arcs of verdant light sundered shelf and linen as they careened toward him on either side. Plasma hissed against metal and fabric, leaving a burnt smell in the air expanding from the long, black scars left in the objects.

Zaavik turned his chin up, meeting her snarling rage head-on with a stern look of determination. Blue and green screeched together, one of his blades catching the oncoming strike from overhead. The blade to the opposite cut into the wall behind him as the hilt turned with an accommodating camber. The light from the clashing blades strobed a vibrant cyan.

He pressed forward, kicking his foot off the wall and freeing himself from the clash. His frame spun in a tilted corkscrew, his boots knocking into a ceiling panel and jarring it out of place. He landed on the other side of her with a broken shelf clattering beneath the impact of his feet. Elbows pulled back, and one shoulder reached over to hold the saber alongside him at head-level; Juyo's closest equivalent to a fool's guard.

"We don't have to fight," he declared calmly. Illumination droned and sputtered against his face, melding with the light vermillion to manifest a hazy yellow sheen over his visage. "You know how this is gonna end; the same way it did the last two times." Her shoulder and side were testaments to the iron grip he'd kept on the upper hand between them.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this," he implored, ever persistent.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


"One time," she corrected with a hiss, turning to match her positioning with his dodge. She had no trouble balancing on top of the mess, her movements graceful as she pivoted her footing on the side of the fallen shelves.

The levity of what he had tried to do kept pulsing over her, bringing with it waves of indignation as she broke it apart. He had acted like he understood. And she-- she had wanted to believe-- because he wasn't the only one that had recognized parallels. She had seen his desperation for control on her ship. He didn't trust his people. She could see his scars-- and he--

He played with her.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this,"

"Shut up," She snapped. And it was was the last thing he'd have her say, her legs sinking into stance. And then she attacked.

Her blade twisted in arcs through the air, whipping quickly from form to form as she pressed for an opening. It was unrelenting, as smooth as water rushing in to a damn. Where there were cracks, she would press to slip through. He had always had her running, her back to him was his turf. Facing him head on was a different matter. Her size meant nothing when he had to break past her guard.

Her guard was deadly. She was going no where.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」


"Shut up,"

Were it so easy, he thought.

There wasn't any time to keep thinking as arcs of malicious blue struck toward him. His own saber came to meet them, weapon oscillating to parry with either blade one after the other. The sudden rush of offense forced Zaavik back a step as the defensive twirl of verdant plasmatic edges only just managed to bat away the strikes. Another step back. Zaavik felt a tug on his jacket followed by a hiss. A sliver leather and zipper incinerated by a the stray followthrough of a poorly parried attack.

A final step back. His heel caught the door, the rubber sole of his bootheel squeaking down to the floor. Nowhere left to go. A searing pain assaulted the flesh of his tricep near the elbow. Leather hissed as it burned away, a glancing blow turning flesh to black in an instant. He bared his teeth with a vague intonation of pain. Another strike came from the left. Zaavik smacked it away with a wild parry, saber blades popped and sizzled from the impact.

Zaavik used the opening to release one hand from the hit and throw it backward to slap the door control. A reverse step into the newly unobstructed door threshold brought him just beyond the reach of the next strike. Zaavik threw a feint to the right, pulling back at the last moment and shoving both hands forward to send the inert metallic center of his hilt towards the bridge of Aradia's nose.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Aradia jerked, the hilt clipping her temple. Pain blossomed, her vision dancing. She didn't let her guard drop, but it bought him the breathing space to make it through the door and catch his footing.

She hissed, touching her temple and pulling back to find blood. It flowed freely down her forehead, the first drop sliding past her eye. Her attention snapped back onto him, the hit drawing a scowl across her lips.

"All that time Allyson spent away has left you sloppy," she stated softly, seeking a flinch of pain across his expression. Her chest throbbed, aching with the embarrassment his false pity had left her with.

The moment her words registered on his face, she assaulted him with a telekinetic barrage right towards his gut. She followed it in with an Ataru flip out the door, corkscrewing into a weighted slash over his metal arm.

"You're pathetic!" She screamed, her voice raw from the pain that she reflected onto him.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara


「ATTITUDE」




The soft reluctance in his face shifted to sharp malice almost instantly. A sharp exhale as his nostrils flared, teeth bared from beneath curled lips. He reared back for a strike, biting at the bait almost instantly. Alas, a collection of small, unseen forces slammed into his gut, catching him off guard and extracting a cough that sputtered with a backward stumble. Vision broke into doubles, a wheeze rushing into his lungs. Unconsciousness only narrowly avoided by some unexplained force of will.

A pang of feat nudged at him. Near-breathless he pivoted on his heels to meet her ascent over him. Prosthetic hand snatched forward, cortosis lining trapping the blue plasma with impunity. Arm shook with exertion as he slowly pulled the saber down and to the side like an off-kilter lever. "Veina," queen, he forced through clenched teeth. "Keep that name out of your mouth."

Zaavik's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A half step forward added momentum to the forward torque of his shoulders as he sent his forehead recklessly downwards toward the crown of her skull.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She let him, her whole being falling into the welcoming embrace of the darkside. Energy rushed forward and rippled over her skin. He slammed into a solid barrier, her teeth grinding at the faint echo of pain that made it through. He would have it worse. Ashin Cardé Varanin lesson had been worth the payment.

She beheld him evenly, blood dripping down her face as she took in his fury.

"Who's the sith now?" He knee went up, a foot aiming to kick him in the gut and buy her space. At the same time, her wrist twisted, trying to break her saber free. She had told him to shut up-- go away. Leave her alone! But in that length of time a change had slowly crept over her. An edge entered her eyes, the soft girl turning hard. What mattered before mattered less now. Now she wanted him to flinch. Now she wanted him to know the pain he mocked.

"Admit it." She taunted again, walking forward with those exacting steps. The same one he had stalked her with that night on Life Day.

"You're hypocrites. The lot of you. Hate me if you want-- fine! But stop pretending you're any better for it, OWN WHO YOU ARE!" She lunged at him, one breath away from resuming her flurry of sword work.

This wasn't what she came to Bastion for, but it felt good.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」

Pain throbbed in his forehead as he pulled back from the impact. Aradia's blood smeared now across his face from the aggressive contact, crimson ichor contrasting against the brighter reds of his skin. At the very least, he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon her. Against the blood-black smears, the crystalline mirrors in his skull shone even brighter than before. An entirely different intensity than those opposite of him, however. It wasn't anger, that had faded as soon as it sparked, No, instead it was a certainty. Certainty that he wouldn't lose. Certainty that Aradia needed help. Certainty that this wouldn't be in vain.

A barrage of cerulean strikes approached with a precise hatred. Alternating between blades, Zaavik parried each with deft, deceptively effortless looking strokes. Every return strike he threw was deliberately aimed to injure or disarm, but not to kill. It didn't matter, as none found purchase past her guard. Plasma sizzled on plasma, flashes of light illuminating in quick snaps with every moment of contact. A final clash saw their weapons lock together, the two of them struggling against each other's strength. While it'd been made painfully clear in previous encounters that Zaavik would easily overpower the waifish Sith, this time she met him with everything he could give, as if she had some inhuman surge of strength.

The work of the dark side, no doubt.

"You're right," he said. "I'm a hypocrite." He wouldn't indulge her accusations as a generalized picture of the entire Jedi Order, though. It wasn't his place to speak for them, or declare what they were. He was only a Knight, and a fresh one at that. Zaavik was a hypocrite, but a hypocrite was in many cases just a man trying to change. It was often those who criticized, however, who were trying to hide what they themselves lacked. "If I hated you-" he said, trailing off for a moment as he summoned his own surge of strength to avoid being overwhelmed. "I wouldn't be trying to help you."

Zaavik shoved forward, freeing himself from the clash and gliding backward on feet kept low the floor. He twirled once over, adjusting himself through the corridor and braced for the next barrage. If he was going to be on the back foot, at the very least he'd take the liberty of leading the fight locale. She could press all she wanted but had to follow where he retreated. He'd need to retain some semblance of control if this was going to ever turn in his favor.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
[/CENTER]

He admitted it too easily. It did nothing-- soothed nothing. She needed to see his pain, she needed him to know. She descended on him, her thoughts bleeding away as the fight took over. She didn't think, Kaalia and taught her that just got in the way. She felt. Instincts and the force guided every unrelenting strike she rained down on him.

It was different, being the pursuer. The control was in her hands this time. She wasn't willing to let it go.

"If I hated you-I wouldn't be trying to help you."

"Right," she scoffed, matching his pace down the hall. "Handing me to my murders, very helpful." Her features contorted with the delayed pain of the reminders, the blue blade twirling twice at her side. She surged forward, an underhanded swing trying to clip up under his armpit. Her strikes were starting to focus around that arm, a push to severe the cybernetic from flesh pursuing.

"You want me dead," she spat, following it with a fluid upward arch that transitioned to clash towards his hip.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

Zaavik moved again to parry the strike, feet shifting and arms arcing to guide his saber toward the strikes. Blue skidded against green, halting the first, but not stopping the tip of the blue to carve slightly into his hip. "Kuron!" A pained expletive growled from a deep, primal depth in his vocal folds. His stance faltered on that side momentarily before a sudden flourish and compensating readjustment put him back in place. Red spattered visage regarded Aradia with a pained grimace. The kind of grimace only incinerated nerve-endings could achieve.

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered trying to talk to you in the first place," he said. Two opportunities to kill her had come and gone before this third meeting. Zaavik chose mercy both times, even allowing her to flee the very heart of the Core in her own ship. Did that mean nothing to her? Or was she so blind with rage she hadn't even considered reflecting? Zaavik shoved these considerations out of his mind. If there was any hope of a breakthrough, he had to speak. As long as she continued the assault, he wouldn't be able to do that effectively.

His eyes darted around in an erratic scan for a solution. Improvisation was largely responsible for the reason he was still alive. Today would probably no exception. A door control was just barely visible over he shoulder, past the reddish threads that hung over it. A moment of focus, and suddenly Zaavik could feel the door panel's electrical pulse as he reached through the force. On the other side, that pulse echoed out into a chamber much larger than the linen closet he'd only narrowly escaped from.

An idea flickered to life in his head.

The Shadow moved forward, throwing wild and ferocious strikes toward Aradia with either blade. Buzz, sizzle, pop, all deflected. He could see the blue moving for his head in a horizontal strike just before it happened as if he pulled the next move from her mind. He dipped low, his left foot extending and sliding across the ground beside her. A bend of his knee pulled him in as he ducked beneath the strike and strafe alongside her to maneuver behind. Zaavik spun with his momentum, his heel kicking the unsecured door panel and triggering it to open.

Boot shifted flat against the wall, pushing off to meet her oncoming attack with added force. When the force of his insistent parrying created some breathing room, he slipped back through the threshold. With two swings, his saber carved into precise locations along the door frame, sending sparks and smoke flooding into the threshold and he faded into the obscurity of the greyish screen of wisps and flickers.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A trill of excitement brought a smile to her lips. She was getting to him. Each hit chipped away at his defenses. She could feel his desperation in the flurry of his attacks. It urged her on, the acolyte finally finding the upper hand. All she had to do was keep. On. Pushing.

She sunk deeper into the power, letting it strength her limbs and rule her reflexes. It was almost hers-- her intangible need to break him at her finger tips.

Smoke filled the halls, a fancy flurry of his sabers creating a momentary reprieve. She followed him without hesitation, growing reckless with the power she leaned into.

"How does it feel?" She asked, nudging the door closed behind her. Click, went the lock. "Being hunted. Trapped." She let that word hang in the air, the echos of a lost life still clinging to the energy of this room. The purge was not an easy thing to erase. Not that the Imperials even understood the forces they so carelessly messed with.

"Can you feel it? They linger. They haven't moved on. They haven't forgiven."

She walked in deeper, her saber drawing sparks across the stone as she dragged it behind her. The smoke began to settle, slight golden hue to her eyes as she scanned carefully.

"Once I'm done with you, I'll go for your friends too. I think they'd like that."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」​

The Force shrouded Zaavik into obscurity. Every photon bent around him, a trick of the light rendering him completely invisible. He stood motionless as Aradia strolled into the room like an amused predator. With every step, she grew closer, stopping only inches in front of him. He held his breath, not wanting even the smallest breeze to tip her off. Hostile eyes scanned around the room, looking right through him as if he was never really there at all. A Ghost. A Shadow. Right under the nose was where he excelled.




Come to think of it, it wasn't exactly a new sensation. In one way or another, that feeling was ever-present. The streets of Zeltros, the halls of the Jedi Temple's youngling ward with the taunting, tormented faces that inhabited it, and now with Ido Bastra snuffed out, even his own home. He was now, at this moment, what he always had been. It would be a lie to say her words didn't remind him how much it disgusted him. It'd taken years to learn how to ignore it, and he didn't much like being reminded.




Zaavik was a fool to think she couldn't say anything else that'd fuck with him. He frowned, even though he doubted there was much weight to that threat. Yet, it invoked some inexplicable urge to strike. Remove the head from the concept so that it never came to fruition. He could do it too, easily, right now. She couldn't see him, one flick of the activator on his saber and she'd be- No. He wasn't going to stoop to her level, she wanted that. Or, at least, she thought she did.

His fingers fanned out with his hand limp at his side. Reaching out to the force, he willed a box in the corner to topple over, drawing her eyes elsewhere. A slow step to the side was taken with which he was able to weasel around behind her. Any breeze he might have caused likely overlooked in favor of the sound he'd engineered. Backtracking toward the door, he waved his arm this time to make an even bigger sound on the opposite end of the room, this time pulling an entire shelf over.

A quick turn on his heels and he lunged for the door control. A beep, and then a metallic screeching as the door forced its way open through the damaged frame. A quick step out through the mostly cleared wall of smoke and he dropped from invisibility. A blank look regarded back into the room as he hit the control again and sent the door grinding shut. With a small force of will, the force commanded the electronics in the door to lock. A loud click echoed through the hollow frame and out both sides.

He wasn't trapped anymore, objectively, but it didn't make the feeling go away. Nothing ever did.

Zaavik's forearm rested halfway against the door and the wall. A few heavy breaths caught him up to comfortable stamina. Now he could talk. "Bhesj," was the first thing out of his mouth. Old Corellian this time, not Zeltron, a general term of impatience. "Just listen to me," he insisted. "If I really wanted you dead, think about it, wouldn't this have been a waste of time?" He was beginning to feel like it was anyway. "I could have killed you at the outpost. I didn't. I could have killed you on Lifeday. I didn't. You aren't that dense, surely."

"You could've sent that knife between my ribs. You didn't. That's why I'm here. You're letting your fear and your pain get the better of you. You think you want to hurt me, but that's not really what you want. You want to feel safe, strong. You think if you hurt me, you'll reassure yourself that no one can ever hurt you again. It won't. It'll only make it worse. I know what you're feeling. Sinking my saber through the heart of the man that-" Zaavik hesitated. "Took everything from me- It didn't fix anything. Nor did the next one. Or the next one. It just festered the wound. I'm not about to let anyone, not even you, succumb to that, not when I've seen that there's still the possibility redemption left in them."

Zaavik Dagoth was a Jedi. He didn't try to help her for the praise. He didn't try to help her for his own self satsifaction. He was doing this because it was right.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Ethereal forms appeared along the edge of her vision, teens in dark robes and men in white suits. The deeper she sunk into the power, the clearer their forms grew, visible only to the girl they haunted.

She slammed her fist into the door, frustration boiling over as he cut her off to the other side.

He spoke with reason, but the time where she could hear it had come and passed. "Shut up," she hissed again, the words she was forced to endure causing lashes of pain. Her saber pierced the door, molten magma forming around the end that burned its way through to him.

"You think just because you read a coin you know how I feel. You do not." She gritted her teeth against the sweltering heat, muscles flexing as she started the slow process of cutting a hole.

"But you will."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」​

The opposing saber that plunged through the door came only inches from his face. Violet strands that hung over his face fizzled as they were singed by the radiating heat. Zaavik stumbled backward in surprise, nearly planting his ass into the floor. Several clumsy stumbles cantered quickly along the ground before he caught his balance. He straightened, moving to square himself with the door.

A sigh laden with slight feelings of defeat exhaled toward the blue saber. "Have it your way."

Zaavik reignited once side of his saber, the green blade extending with a screech. He reached out to the force, focusing on Aradia's presence on the other side of the door. There would only be a moment before he'd cut through, so he had to make this count. A vague outline of her stance shimmered into his minds eye and he lined it up with door in front of him. Taking care to avoid her saber, he took a step forward and performed a two-handed thrust, sending his blade through the door as well, aimed at her shoulder.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


In her fury, she missed the force's warning. Again. His saber pierced her shoulder, a scream granting him the knowledge of his mark. Her saber yanked out of the door, metaphorical red descending over her vision.

He was granted a moment's reprieve as she stepped back, clutching at her shoulder with pained grunts. If only she could do that healing thing on command. She didn't even understand it. Never mind, that. She raised a bloody hand, her vision blurring with tears of exertion. The force crushed down on the weakened door, bits of it caving in inch... by... inch.

It ripped open, bending over itself as she revealed the contents of the room. She. Couldn't. Stand. To know. He knew. What they had done to her. Her expression contorted in pure spite, unrecognizable as she gathered her pain to her.

"I'll tell Allyson you said bye."

Lightening shot from her fingertips, startling even her as the red arms reached for his body.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」​

Zaavik's eyes widened as a jagged flash of white-hot hatred spewed forth from Aradia's fingertips. He braced, extending his second blade from the hilt, and swung the saber forward to catch the oncoming energy. The impact of electricity on plasma kicked, pushing the hilt towards his chest and sending him sliding flat-footed across the ground.

Volatile tendrils arced off the blade and grasped at his body. A painful, electrical tickle began to seize his muscles. His hold on the lighting through the force faltered. It reached out and ravaged the inner workings of his saber hilt. Electronics droned, the power cell popping once overloaded. Both blades fizzled out instantly, allowing the lighting to overtake him.

Energy rippled through his body, causing him to cry out in laborious anguish. The dark side lifted him, throwing him across the wide corridor and sent him back-first into the wall. Momentum snapped his head backwards, skull colliding with the durasteel wall with a loud thud. Consciousness absconded, and his limp form crumpled as it fell to the floor face down.

Wisps of smoke curled and slithered towards the ceiling from the back of his jacket. Zaavik lie motionless aside from the occasional spasm of a limb or extremity.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed



Aradia stepped forward, unflinching to his cries. Good. Yes. She had cried too. It had changed nothing, did he understand that now? This was what helpless felt like. She tossed him into the durasteel wall like a doll, the thrill of control rushing through her veins. She could do anything to him now. Crush him. Kill him. Make him scream.

"You want to understand me?"

She held him there, the lightening flowing throughly through her fingertips as she kept him pinned-- Dangling, in agony, staring down his death.

Just like she had that day on Bastion. She flinched, faltering for moment before the grip on him tightened.

"Imagine it now." She urged, a sense of desperation in her tone as she tried to connect-- tried to rationalize the horrors of this moment as she drove the life from his body with her hands.

"You're dying. And your friends are all behind you-- dying. You're helpless. You're pathatic--arg She let his unconscious body drop, the static leaving the air as her blood pulsed in her ears.

"Get up!" Telekinetic strings wrapped around him, trying to toss him into the opposite wall of their hall.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」​

Zaavik regained consciousness as he was flung through the air. Blood from the back of his head arced and spattered against the floor. His half-limp tumble through the air ended unceremoniously as he smacked shoulder first into the opposite wall. The tie in his hair came out, letting violent strands fall freely just beyond shoulder-length. Swaths of his bright hair saturated in blood near the scalp. A hard thump against the floor echoed through the hallway as he finally became reacquainted with the ground.

For a moment, he was deathly motionless again. A flicker of movement finally, his left arm pulling in to brace his forearm against the ground. Zaavik grunted as he pushed himself up, head raising to look at Aradia behind a purple veil of hair. Against the protest of the throbbing in his head and pain in strained muscles that still felt the echo of lighting-induced convulsions, he stood.

His vision twisted, seeing double of the ginger assailant in front of him. The world around him spun and wobbled, causing him to stagger and sway as he attempted to remain upright. Crimson ichor flowed from his head and down the back of his neck. The blood caressed his mired skin with a sickening, unnerving warmth as it trickled inch by inch, slowly overtaking the cloth of the shirt beneath his jacket.

"That's why we're different," he intonated haggardly. A disfigured hand held up, three fingers were broken from one of the twins falls he'd taken. The already disfigured extremity now jagged and brutalist with tips pointing in directions they shouldn't. A blur of metallic sliver slid from his inner jacket pocket into the prosthetic left, his primary hand. A crimson blade ignited with a screech, illuminating the familiar hilt of Aradia's former saber that he'd taken from her all that time ago.

"I won't give in to my suffering so easily."

An awkward, uncoordinated step forward ushered a wild overhead arc to the left, striking again at the injured shoulder. Even in his daze, the trajectory was deliberately non-fatal.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

The brutal truth of his words caused a visible flinch, the cold kiss of shock hitting her cheeks as his empathy turned cruel.

The inability to connect caused a flash of disappointment, both of them withdrawing their attempts to reach the other. Her twisted methods not withstanding.

"You will never understand," she whispered, her vibrant fury turning cold and meticulous. He brandished her stolen saber, the one she had been unable to retrieve all that time ago. Her nostrils flared. She sunk into a stance and watched his wild approach, her muscles flexing in preparation. All it took was a simple, redirecting parry and a step to the right.

Her expression was cold and unfeeling, the once overwhelmed acolyte now distant-- calculating.

As his momentum took him past her, she brought the blue blade down across his back.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「BLOOD AND GUTS」​

In his concussed blur, Zaaik's momentum clumsily faltered with the strike that Aradia batted away. Feet unable to keep the tempo of his follow-through, he stumbled past her side. Danger assaulted his senses, a dull and distant signal behind the throbbing in his head that beckoned him to how and where he should defend himself. Shoulders and hips torqued to turn, but his feet remained tied amongst themselves, unable to coordinate past the wild oscillation of the world around him.

A horrible, scorching slice assaulted the nerves in his back. Just beside his spine, plasma incinerated flesh from the base of his hips up a black, cauterized snaking path up to the back of his neck. Another loud grunt of anguish and his legs gave as he plummeted towards the floor. Jacket split in two, falling down his arms as he caught himself with either hand and resting around his wrists.

The sleeveless shirt beneath, saturated in his own blood, hung on only by a few threads at the neck and brim. Disfigured epidermal lines sprawled his exposed arms in disgusting, erratic melted patterns. Crude prosthetic attached below the left elbow with little more than bracing spikes, the absence of synth flesh allowing the unsettling leyline between flesh and cybernetic to display. All of these things; testaments to his sufferings, and failures. Now, a dark swath of flesh burned away had been added to the gallery.

Zaavik struggled to stay on his knees and forearms, nearly resigning flat on his stomach several times as he crawled forward at a pitiful pace. One arm suddenly flung back, sending the unignited saber blade toward Aradia and the remnants of one side of his jacket flinging to the side. He twisted, near-screaming in pain as he landed on his opposite side, the fingers caught beneath his hip crunching further. With that hand free of obstruction, he fidgeted desperately for his rear-concealed blaster.

A slow, wobbly aim sent a stun bolt wide, whizzing past Aradia and slamming into the ceiling, and knocking a tile ajar from the frame. Another shot, only to a similar effect. His vision was to split, and he was too dazed to have any hope of hitting. Yet, still, he fired again.

The pain in her shoulder no longer reached her, his cries sending tingles across her spine. His jacket split open, revealing the jagged scars across his back. Recognition crept over her, echos of her past tearing through her mind.

The cool air across her exposed torso. The restraints.

The fear.

The rise and fall of the whip from the corner of her vision. The noises she made-- the pain never ceasing.

Her hand faltered, not following up on the vulnerability of his back with another strike. She caught his shots with her blade, her expression blank as she stared down the mirror of her past. He crawled forward. She stepped with him, finally striking at the cybernetic that held the weapon, aiming to disarm him by severing it.

She kicked at his torso, trying to flip him over and force him to look at her.

Look at her.

She leveled the dead jedi's blade to his neck, flickers of a struggle catching in the empty planes of her face as she found herself on the other side of her past.

"You deserve this," she pressed, though to who was unclear.

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Equipment: Saberstaff, Imperial Knight Armour
Proximity: Dimitri Voltura, Kesran Opadal
Engaging: Alina Tremiru

She was grinning. Unnervingly so.

As if she knew something that he didn't.

She didn't know anything about him. Even if her assumptions were correct, they were skewed.

"Spoken like a true Sith."

"Indeed," Ragnar answered, those previously calm orange orbs of his glowing brightly. The natural colour of his eyes, the corruption of the Dark Side had not been apart of his being for years. Sith he had been, Sith he was no longer. The only hold over of his time as one of their religious order was the fury that threatened to boil over the edge. The relentless power that sought to guide his hand and dole out death with that silver coloured lightsabre.

She released the pistol, relinquishing it to his stronger grasp. The barrel and muzzle of which were crushed within a split second. Forfeiting his hold of it entirely, her lightsabre sparked back to life, which he expected. Deflecting his saber and pushing it off to the side. The return of the Force was a surprise, but a welcome one. Despite his connection to it having been lessened, it had never been cut off entirely. It's voice only increased in volume, but he had never been deeply entwined in its folds. He was no empath, there was no pain he felt as the world around them burned, as thousands died. Seconds, they had been parted. The boosted connection was taken in stride.

As she surged upwards to meet him with her fist leading the way, he raised higher, his feet leaving the ground as he leapt backwards. Force-aided, hie upper body dropped backwards, legs tucked in and then shot outwards into her upper abdomen and bosom. From his feet came the added power of the Force in order to kick her away and open up that distance between the opponents. Whether she was knocked away or not, he sprung forwards away from her. Her body used as the resistance necessary to push him away.

Saberstaff deactivating, as he hit the ground, he rolled forwards, back up to his feet and spun around to find her again.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「BLOOD AND GUTS」​

Artificial nerves pulsed a dampened sensation of pain to Zaavik's brain as the blaster and several metallic fingers were sundered from his left hand. Both halves of the blaster skipped against the floor as his arm dropped limply by the wayside. A blunt strike landed upon his gut, toppling him over to his back with a loud forced exhale. His arms pulled inward, pressure on the elbows lifting him slightly to gaze up the point of a saber.

"You deserve this."​

Zaavik grimaced, a pained groan coming through bared and gritted teeth as he faltered down to only one elbow. Vision clarified to her blood-streaked face, blue eyes locked dead into opposing mirrored hues. "Go on, then," he provoked with a hiss. "You want it so badly? Kill me." His voice was stern, not a single shred of fear bleeding through. Not even so much as a blink broke the eye-contact on his end.

"But it isn't going to make anything easier," he added. Chin raised, exposing his throat and revealing the burns that crept up halfway. He was open, exposed, finished, totally helpless if she decided to snuff out here and now. "It will only add to the weight of your suffering. If you're truly so lost, get it over with." Blood began to trickle down his forehead and around his eyes, reaching for his jawline with a deliberate descent.

"Just ask yourself first: Can you carry that weight?"

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Kesran Opadal | Dimitri Voltura | Kolson Vrask | Ragnar the Untested (Engaging) | Noel Strasza

The crunch of her blaster had Alina wince internally. She could get a replacement, yes, but it didn't come cheap. Still, it was worth it to get in his guard. The staff of a lightsaber he used wasn't going to be easy to swing without posing a danger to himself. That, at least, was what she was betting on. But then her punch missed. Momentary surprise filled her eyes as Ragnar jumped to plant his feet on her chest. The way she used the Force in her body kept her from being kicked back, but it halted any forward momentum she had.

She gritted her teeth as she took a half step forward, watching him roll. The brief bursts she was doing wasn't enough. His armor and toys would be enough to outlast her as she was now. She needed to do more. Be more. Offense was what she needed now. Her feet dug into the cracked pavement as she burst forward again, closing the distance faster this time. He'd spin to see her once more in front of him, fist launched in a quick series of jabs. She refused to give him the space he'd need to swing his saber if she had the choice.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Spoiler: The Story

PRELUDE
Before the Second Bastionfall....

「A PATTERN HERE I NEED TO SEE」

A Sith turned from the dark is a life saved and an enemy defeated. Jedi by circumstance, altruist by choice, Zaavik felt it was his duty to preserve life. No matter how vain or risky the effort, he would do what he believed he must. Should it be the death of him, at least he died on his feet with good in his heart and soul. The prospect did not frighten him as much as it once had.

How could nothingness possibly be worse than this?

The Shadow skulked across the hangar, making a beeline towards a fighter vessel. The ladder to the cockpit clanked under his footfalls, ascending closer with every step. A voice called out from behind him, resonating off the walls of the empty hangar and into his ears, causing him to freeze.

"Zaavik!?" The voice of Ryv was unmistakable. "You missed the brief, I- What are you doing?"

Zaavik sighed. Busted. "Leaving," he replied plainly, taking another step on the ladder.

"Cold feet, huh? Cmon, let's talk about this, no need to go deserting us."

"No, it's not that. I uh-" Zaavik dropped off the ladder, boots smacking into the durasteel flooring beneath. A turn was made to face Ryv, a few steps forward made to meet him. "There's something I gotta do. I don't really know how, or why, but I can feel it. The Force is pulling me somewhere, the call is-" He paused, looking down to the floor with an odd camber to his lips before looking back up to his fellow Jedi. "It's really loud, Ryv. I can't ignore it."

The Sword of the Jedi made a face, placing a hand on his hip with an inquistive raise of his brow. "Something, huh?" His tone was laden with more curiosity than doubt. "What's this something, then?"

"Saving a life."

No deception emanated from Zaavik to Ryv's empathic sense. The Kiffar let out a breath and smirked slightly. "Fine, I'll cover for you. Just don't get in over your head, okay?"

"When do I ever?"

Ryv blinked in silence, a blank stare regarding the Zeltron with disbelief.

Zaavik smirked, chuckling at his own joke. "I'll be fine," he insisted, hastily climbing back up the ladder and climbing into the cockpit. Certainty in his statement was a facade, for the Knight truly didn't know what to expect. A certain dread was hidden behind the pull the Force assaulted him with. It was better not to dwell on those feelings, anyhow. "Thanks," he offered as he slid the pilot's helmet over his head and looked down to Ryv.

The Kiffar nodded in silence, arms moving to cross over his chest. Engined blared as the vessel started up. Artificial winds danced wildly in all directions as the fighter slowly raised from the floor before tearing forward through the atmospheric shield of the hanger. Zaavik disappeared as a spec against the endless void of space.


FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"No entry, Jedi." A Togrutan Imperial Knight rebuked Zaavik's request with clear contempt. This entrance to the Redoubt was guarded only by the Knight and an accompanying Stormtrooper. Other forces were scrambling to prep defenses and take positions, leaving the actual present security rather lacking.

"Listen, man, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to-"

"We said no entry," the Stormtrooper helmet vocoder distorted voice doubled down with his Imperial Knight comrade.

"You forget, we are only allies against the Sith. You are not entitled to our facilities, we are not friends."

Zaavik threw his hands up halfway and sighed with feigned defeat. "Yeah, whatever," he replied with a facade of concession. He took a step backward, turned his back half to them, and pulled out his commlink, pretending to make a call. Both guards eased up, thinking the Shadow had given up. Cybernetic hand brought the comm up to his lips as his other hand made a sneaky wave at his side, index and little finger flicking up and down.

"You will let me into the redoubt," he spoke firmly.

The Stormtrooper's posture went slack. "I will let him into the Redoubt."

"What?"

The guard turned and tapped at the door control, punching in a code that caused the massive door panels to begin to slide open with a loud groaning.

"'The hell are you doing?"

Zaavik crept up alongside the Trooper and quickly reached forward to switch his blaster to stun. "Blast him," he commanded calmly.

A hiss of white plasma erupted from the Imperial Knight's saber hilt as the realization took over. The first shot was parried, the magnetic containment field of the saber sending it flying wildly into the air. The second shot found purchase, slipping past the saber and slamming into the Knight's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground unconscious. The effectiveness of New Imperial Troopers proving once again capable of overcoming the lightsaber.

Zaavik scoffed smugly. "Veina," queen, he quipped as he looked down at the Togruta. The Jedi offered a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, the metal of his prosthetic clattering against plastoid shoulder pauldrons. "Good job. Take a nap, huh? You've earned it."

"You got it, boss!" The Stormtroopers knees gave as he folded to the floor. Armor clacked and clamored against itself, followed by the hollow thud of helmet onto concrete. Snoring echoed inside the hollow shell, vocoding outward as a digitized static. A long step over the two unconscious guards heralded his waltz through the foyer of the Redoubt.

Corellian Coin rolled around between his fingers. Ethereal screams, wails, and other horrible sounds of the past echoed through the halls, courtesy of the coin's imprint. It was nothing short of gutwrenching, but he had no choice other than to endure. The echoes and visions carved a clairvoyant path toward his intent, a macabre road for his likely vain quest.

Staircase, corridor, left turn, corridor, right turn, stairs again. The former Sith Academy had looked big, but on the inside, the scale was even more impressive. Remnants of Sith iconography still lingered, the efforts to chip them away in favor of the Imperial Codex still ongoing. It was no wonder it had taken so long, he'd felt as if he'd walked miles already.

Every new scream he heard, every new cry, every new spatter of blood he saw evoked a unique grimace all their own. He'd heard about it, but the first-hand recollections were a lot worse than he thought. Zaavik was still in a coma when this all went down. He wouldn't have ever imagined the ordeal to be this horrific. Yet, somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

Another corridor, this time the coin granted him the sound of laughter. A familiar voice that reverberated from father ahead, echoing in a repetitive rhythm further and further down the hallway. Pace increased, pointed boots slogging against the tiles with their own impactful reiteration off the hard interior walls.

Disfigured digits lightly caressed a durasteel door. Eyelids closed, opposite hand clenching the coin as he focused internally. In the back of his mind's eye, red-hued locks danced against momentum through the threshold. The coin was practically humming, a subtle vibration buzzing in the center of his palm.

This was it.

Fingers slid down to the door control. A pulse through the force willed the mechanisms to clear, forcing the door to hiss open and click at the apex of it coming ajar. Slowly he walked forward, what was once a significant space had been reduced to a linen closet. Towels, vestments, rags, curtains, and the like. It could have been much worse, they had to store the dismantled Sith Iconography somewhere, or at least, whatever they couldn't burn.

Situating himself in the center of the room, Zaavik turned to face the door and dropped slowly to his knees. He sat on his feet and placed the coin in front of him. Both fists retreated to his knees as his eyes closed. A deep breath would slip him into a light meditative trance.

She would be here, he was certain.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

Aradia had been removed from the front line. The order had been as clear as day, yet when the call for Bastion came to life... She broke her master's orders and answered. Kaalia would never understand.

She had to be there.



Her footsteps echoed through the familiar hall, goosebumps prickling over her skin. The siege of Bastion rang on beyond these now insignificant walls, but she did not yet join. Something drew her forward-- an intangible string pulling tight at her chest.

No one had survived the Imperial's attack. She knew that. Yet every corner she turned, her eyes searched, almost desperate for a lock of blonde hair-- a familiar dimple. Someone. Anyone.

Bastion Academy had been purged.

Tula had not survived.

She stopped short at juncture, a Fel tapestry hanging where an Empire one had once resided. She could see its faint outline, the dirt stain refusing to let the past fade. She let out a pained hiss. Fire erupted across the imperial symbol. She walked onwards, her once timid steps gaining intention.

Did they really think they could erase her with no consequence?

Ideas bubbled forward, smothering the pinching that built in her tear ducts. She had been in enough wars to know that pure brute would not win this school back alone. She had to--

She stopped short, a familiar set of doors appearing before her. In her brooding, she had not paid attention to where her feet had taken her. The path had been instinctual. Habit. She swallowed hard, the pinching in her tear ducts redoubling as she stared at her old dorm door.

Her hand raised before her, moving as if it were in a dream as it entered the old code.

The doors swished open.

Cold shock bit through her like poison.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

Visions of hatred and desperation flooded over his mind in dreamlike watercolors as he meditated. Pain echoed from the coin in front of him, he could feel it like it was his own. The screaming was loud enough to hurt his ears. Gurgling in the throat, he couldn't breathe. Something tightened his grip, not letting him leave this meditative state. Blood, the blood was everywhere, a growing pool of ichor crimson.

She died here. Through her own eyes, he could only watch.

The hissing of a door jolted him from his meditation at the very moment she'd slipped away in the vision. An invisible smog of force energy flooded the tension laden atmosphere as their eyes met. Alive and well despite what he'd seen, there she was. Zaavik gasped in both shock and vital need, he could not breathe during that forced recollection. The weight of the force around them proved too much for the old Corellian Token. Metal cracked, small grains of shrapnel bouncing off the floor with a high pitch ding. The half-sundered coin flipped into the air from the ground.

Zaavik's hand flung forward, fumbling around with the coin for a brief moment before snatching it from the air. His other hand raised slowly, fingers extended and palm facing out pacifistically. With one fluid motion he stood up slowly from his knees, his feet planting firmly against the ground. Token deposited into his jacket pocket, and then the same hand mimicked the non-aggressive gesture of the other.

"Relax," he implored softly. "I'm not to here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk, that's all." Either hand dropped to his side once he felt he'd made his intentions clear. "I know you must be feeling a lot right now," he began, trying to take the empathy approach. He couldn't help but immediately the second guess whether or not that was the right approach. He made a face, shaking his head to himself. "Look, fuck it, whatever, just hear me out, okay?" A turbolaser smacking into Ravelin in the near-distance shook the Fel Redoubt. "While we still have the opportunity?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


How.

Her eyes screamed the question as the coin flipped through the air. It hit flesh, the noise muted but resounding as he caught and pocketed it. "You," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Feeling a lot? That was one way to to put it. She stumbled a step back, at first expecting another attack. It was the shock alone that stopped her from drawing her saber, though the hatred she possessed for her growing arch enemy flared in her nostrils.

"Are you stalking me?" She accused, flabbergastion next to follow. He was in her old room. And it-- Her attention tore to its dusty shelves, pain lashing through her-- it had been reduced to nothing more than a linen closet. Her fury turned back on him. She raised her hand, her fingers clenched. A pulse of the force slammed into him. She stepped in, the door closing behind her as she bore him down.

"What. Are you doing. In my room?" She demanded. A telekinetic grip started to clench down on his throat.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




The Jedi's head crept backward forcefully as the invisible grip tightened incorporeal fingers around his throat. Facial features twitched initially, but his resolve steeled and his regard remained covered by a convincing illusion of being unphased. "Ma'am, this is a linen closet," his wispy, air deprived vocalizations managed to quip in facetious contrary through the invisible restraint. Probably not a good time for jokes, the little voice of reason in his head scolded. A real shame too, as his wit had just formulated a pun involving 'breathtaking'.

"The coin," he explained. "I followed what it offered." A small cough rasped out of his airway. His hand slowly crept down to the saber on his belt, hovering over it with a twitching finger. "I told you, I'm just here to talk. I've seen what happened here, it showed me." His eyes narrowed as he drew a large breath laboriously through her attempt as suffocation, only causing the grip to grow tighter.

"Let me go," he rasped dryly. "I told you, you're not in any danger," yet "I'm not here to hurt you," unless I have to. It was always the omitted bits that were the most important. A universal rule between Jedi and Sith. There never had been any such thing as total honesty, and especially not between the faces of the Force's spiritual coin. A gulp struggled down his throat. "I don't blame you if you don't trust me, but I've let you go twice, haven't I?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


The quip earned him a rattling, one which his only his talking halted. She seemed to teeter in that moment, a crazied edge to her eyes as the urge to squeeeze rocked her. And there it was again. The hunger. It was growing less frightening, if only cause the Jedi served as something more pressing to mistrust.

"-- I've seen what happened here, it showed me."

Shock rippled over her features. The grip released him. He was left to gasp at the gifted air, the sithling staring skeptically at his cornered form. "What could you possibly have to say to me?" She uttered, distaste coating every word.

He was the enemy. His kind murdered her kind relentlessly. Everything she had known, they had stolen from her grasp. She was a kid, nearly purged for religious wars and deeds that were not her own. And he owned it.

They bore each other's scars. They were two sides of that same coin and they could never be made to see eye to eye. That was not how physics worked. The mention of what he had seen left her needing to know more. For a moment, she'd bite.

"You have thirty seconds."

Her saber jumped into her palm, the blue hue lighting up the room. Jedi. It was an embarrassing punishment in response to the saber he had taken from her. Wouldn't it be appropriate if she killed him with it in turn? She pointed it at his chest.

"No jedi tricks."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「FIVE SECONDS」

A quiet, stifled gasp quietly compensated for the lack of air in his lungs. Chest and shoulders rose with each subsequent breath in an exaggerated fashion. "Foitan banas," fuck's sake, he bleated as he rubbed his throat with his right hand.

Five seconds had passed.

"Thirty seconds?" Zaavik scoffed, upper lip curling with vexation. "This is gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds, you're just gonna have to deal with that."

Five more seconds passed.

He sighed. No preparations as to what he was going to say had been made prior. This entire endeavor had been spontaneous, and he was playing it by ear for better or worse. "No tricks," he reassured begrudgingly. He showed his hands, turning them once over and them back, keeping them where she could see them. "You're torn up about what happened here, it doesn't take an empath to figure it out. I get it, I really do. I've been there too, believe it or not. Not just losing everyone, but to death's door as well."

Five seconds left.

"The residual echoes gave me a vision; I saw you die here, in the courtyard, nearly drowning in your own blood. I don't know how you're still here-"

Time's up.

"But I know it wasn't the work of any Sith."

Zaavik had been counting the seconds in his head, he was ready to snap his hand down to his saber if he had to. Yet, still he continued regardless.

"I know you don't want to let anything like that happen again. Not even just to yourself, either. But you're on the wrong path. The Sith do that kind of shit on a planetary scale on a near-constant basis. I can see the good in you, you mean well, but you're misguided."

There was a pause, Zaavik gauging the atmosphere before his next sentiment.

"I came here because I can help you."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Her heart pulsed in her ear, the tip of her saber subtly wavering with each internal thump thump thump. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear. Her thoughts raced, her eyes searching for a sign of mockery. The boy was as serious as stone, an earnest edge to him imploration. He saw her. It disarmed her.

Was this an apology?

The saber lowered a centimeter, her chest puffing in distress as he painted a picture of that day. She didn't like to think about her death. She didn't like that he knew about it. Standing before him, she felt vulnerable. Raw.

Confused.

It distracted her from an off set of words, her gaze boring into him-- Hungry for recognition, desperate to feel whole again. Thirty seconds had come and gone, and he still held her attention.

"How?" She asked, her voice tight and mistrusting.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」




Getting this far was unexpected. Every expectation was that she'd try to strike him down the moment he finished speaking. At least he was getting somewhere. It was a much better start than he could have realistically hoped for. Though, he was beginning to understand that the closer he got, the thinner the tightrope would get. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for anything other than a full send. Beyond the walls of the redoubt, the battle raged indifferent to this encounter. Every breath taken in silence was time wasted.

"You're in pain. Desperate to scrub a layer of soot from your skin that won't wash away. Hate won't be a solvent, it'll only bring you more suffering. I know what happened was wrong, horrible, but we can do our damndest no make sure nothing like it ever happens again. You don't trust me, I know, and to be honest, I'm not exactly your biggest fan either."

Zaavik slowly offered out his hand. Durasteel-cortosis alloy glittering with a weathered sheen beneath the artificial light overhead.

"But it's my duty to help you. Not just as a Jedi, but as someone who's been exactly where you are. That wound will fester forever, it's not something you can just forget, but you can soothe it. It would be unfair and dishonest to try to convince you otherwise. We can't ever make it right, but we can do right by you. Come with me, leave the Sith behind, open your eyes to a better path. You can make a difference this way, a crusade for vengeance isn't going to save anyone, it's only going to eat you up inside."

"Isn't it already?"

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

He had her. He really did. His words hit feelings she had never been able to give names to. He said it like it was. He validated her, no excuses. No blame on her.

Goosebumps speckled up her arms, a surreal prick of emotions hitting her tear ducts. For a moment, it felt okay. To feel. To hurt. It was horrible. It was wrong! And she deserved to hear it-- she deserved-

"Come with me, leave the Sith behind,--"

Her expression froze, the emotions bleeding from the planes of her face. And that was the exact moment everything he had to say meant diddly chit.

"You're trying to recruit me," she said, a dangerous edge to the emotionless statement. She beheld the cornered jedi, the tight rope he walked held taunt, moments from snapping.

Or maybe it already had.

She left him to sweat it out, her hand clenching on her hilt as she took a single, harmless step towards him. "Why?"

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「AS THE DEAD SIGH」

"Recruit you?" A humorous scoff slipped wryly from between his lips. "Ostensibly, maybe. Though, not even I would be so naive to think I, or anyone for that matter, may make a Jedi out of you." Zaavik smirked briefly, his glare softening in a non-aggressive fashion. "I thought about it, and maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see it." The offered hand dropped halfway, making room for her approach while also retreating in a paranoid touch-avoidant gesture. Ironic, given the nature of the gesture in the first place.

"I'm sure plenty would've said the same about me, though." Truthfully, he himself was quite possibly the worst excuse for a Jedi he'd ever met. Knighting had felt like a sham, war hero commendation too, he didn't deserve anything. That's why he was trying to earn it now, make a difference. Whether it was the truth or his own twisted perspective on himself changed nothing. What he'd done all the way up to where he stood now couldn't ever be changed. You had to live with these things.

"I just want to help you, like I said. Jedi or otherwise, just not a Sith. The Dark Side is voracious, and it devours you with every passing second. So too, is the hate that you bottle. Mine has already eaten more of my than I can ever hope to get back. I don't want that for anyone. Not even a Sith."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A dry laugh caught in her chest, his words earning a near roll of her eyes. "Oh when you put it that way. I'm flattered." She kept approaching, her steps lazy yet pointed as she drove him back. There was no window in this room. There was no escape spare the door at her back. She bounced the saber in her hand, the tip held off to the side.

"You know. For a moment I thought you might actually be decent. But I'm so stupid," she cursed, her head shaking in passionate dismissal. "Such an idiot to think I could actually get understanding out of someone like you. You spout the craziest chit, you know that? As if I'd abandon the people that need me." She pointed the saber his way, its length bouncing haphazardly as she gestured. "The people you want to kill." The blue hue reflected in her eyes, intense as her fury broke free.

"You will never. Speak. Of my pain. Again," she uttered, her voice rasping with righteous indignation. Firey hot tears boiled over, the wounds of her past laid open and bare. It was his fault. For prying. For being a prick. For taking part in the systematic murder of people-- he was no savior. He was no hero. She didn't buy his excuses. She saw him as he was and she held him to it.

"I hate you!"

She descended on him in a flurry, streak of red and blue as she went to deliver a silencing blow across his neck.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

A grimace materialized over Zaavik's face when the laugh reached his ears. The final thread on the rope had finally broken. Whatever silver he had on that tongue of his clearly hadn't been worth its weight in words this time. Fingers twitched, muscles in his body near-trembling with anticipation of whatever twitch-reaction he'd need to make next to save his skin.

Every opportunity he had to retort was stifled by her continual rebuke. Words had probably outgrown their usefulness now. Cerulean eyes followed the blue droning of saber tip as she whisked it around with the camber of her words. He wasn't listening anymore. She was going to strike, it was clear, all attention reallocated to the secret top priority of this entire endeavor: not dying.


"I hate you!"

Couldn't help but hear that part, though. Visions of the saber's trajectory flooded his middle-consciousness with a pang of danger only split-instant before she began to strike. Eyes widened suddenly, head reeling back along with the bending of knees. Spine and sinew contorted suddenly into a low backward lean, slipping just beneath the would-be deathblow. He snapped back up, snatching his saber on the way up and sending the viridescent blade screaming to life with the distinct hiss that only a lightsaber could make.

A step back sought to put space between them, but his back bumped the wall halfway in. He pointed his saber forward in a defensive gesture and half-shrugged wryly. "Well, welcome the club then, I guess."

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She screamed in his face, the motion senseless and even wild as he made light of her pain. There was insult in what he had just tried to do. There was pain in the pain he tried to use against her-- pain he was responsible for.

She would not be manipulated. She would hold him accountable.

She felt so foolish.

The room surged with energy, dark and twisted. She jumped up, her head brushing the high stone ceiling. The energy imploded, telekinetic tendrils ripping the shelving off the walls. In her fury, she was stronger. The metal units went tumbling down towards him. She fell after it, her hair flowing around her like a vengeful halo as she came down with an overhead strike.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」

Pupils dilated to a black speck on a cerulean backdrop. Adrenaline coursed along with the force, every muscle revving for their next move. A second hand grasped his saber hilt, thumb sliding over to press the activator to send the second blade erupting from the opposite end. Controlled arcs of verdant light sundered shelf and linen as they careened toward him on either side. Plasma hissed against metal and fabric, leaving a burnt smell in the air expanding from the long, black scars left in the objects.

Zaavik turned his chin up, meeting her snarling rage head-on with a stern look of determination. Blue and green screeched together, one of his blades catching the oncoming strike from overhead. The blade to the opposite cut into the wall behind him as the hilt turned with an accommodating camber. The light from the clashing blades strobed a vibrant cyan.

He pressed forward, kicking his foot off the wall and freeing himself from the clash. His frame spun in a tilted corkscrew, his boots knocking into a ceiling panel and jarring it out of place. He landed on the other side of her with a broken shelf clattering beneath the impact of his feet. Elbows pulled back, and one shoulder reached over to hold the saber alongside him at head-level; Juyo's closest equivalent to a fool's guard.

"We don't have to fight," he declared calmly. Illumination droned and sputtered against his face, melding with the light vermillion to manifest a hazy yellow sheen over his visage. "You know how this is gonna end; the same way it did the last two times." Her shoulder and side were testaments to the iron grip he'd kept on the upper hand between them.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this," he implored, ever persistent.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


"One time," she corrected with a hiss, turning to match her positioning with his dodge. She had no trouble balancing on top of the mess, her movements graceful as she pivoted her footing on the side of the fallen shelves.

The levity of what he had tried to do kept pulsing over her, bringing with it waves of indignation as she broke it apart. He had acted like he understood. And she-- she had wanted to believe-- because he wasn't the only one that had recognized parallels. She had seen his desperation for control on her ship. He didn't trust his people. She could see his scars-- and he--

He played with her.

"Just- Unignite the saber. Please. We can talk about this,"

"Shut up," She snapped. And it was was the last thing he'd have her say, her legs sinking into stance. And then she attacked.

Her blade twisted in arcs through the air, whipping quickly from form to form as she pressed for an opening. It was unrelenting, as smooth as water rushing in to a damn. Where there were cracks, she would press to slip through. He had always had her running, her back to him was his turf. Facing him head on was a different matter. Her size meant nothing when he had to break past her guard.

Her guard was deadly. She was going no where.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DISCIPLE」


"Shut up,"

Were it so easy, he thought.

There wasn't any time to keep thinking as arcs of malicious blue struck toward him. His own saber came to meet them, weapon oscillating to parry with either blade one after the other. The sudden rush of offense forced Zaavik back a step as the defensive twirl of verdant plasmatic edges only just managed to bat away the strikes. Another step back. Zaavik felt a tug on his jacket followed by a hiss. A sliver leather and zipper incinerated by a the stray followthrough of a poorly parried attack.

A final step back. His heel caught the door, the rubber sole of his bootheel squeaking down to the floor. Nowhere left to go. A searing pain assaulted the flesh of his tricep near the elbow. Leather hissed as it burned away, a glancing blow turning flesh to black in an instant. He bared his teeth with a vague intonation of pain. Another strike came from the left. Zaavik smacked it away with a wild parry, saber blades popped and sizzled from the impact.

Zaavik used the opening to release one hand from the hit and throw it backward to slap the door control. A reverse step into the newly unobstructed door threshold brought him just beyond the reach of the next strike. Zaavik threw a feint to the right, pulling back at the last moment and shoving both hands forward to send the inert metallic center of his hilt towards the bridge of Aradia's nose.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Aradia jerked, the hilt clipping her temple. Pain blossomed, her vision dancing. She didn't let her guard drop, but it bought him the breathing space to make it through the door and catch his footing.

She hissed, touching her temple and pulling back to find blood. It flowed freely down her forehead, the first drop sliding past her eye. Her attention snapped back onto him, the hit drawing a scowl across her lips.

"All that time Allyson spent away has left you sloppy," she stated softly, seeking a flinch of pain across his expression. Her chest throbbed, aching with the embarrassment his false pity had left her with.

The moment her words registered on his face, she assaulted him with a telekinetic barrage right towards his gut. She followed it in with an Ataru flip out the door, corkscrewing into a weighted slash over his metal arm.

"You're pathetic!" She screamed, her voice raw from the pain that she reflected onto him.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara


「ATTITUDE」




The soft reluctance in his face shifted to sharp malice almost instantly. A sharp exhale as his nostrils flared, teeth bared from beneath curled lips. He reared back for a strike, biting at the bait almost instantly. Alas, a collection of small, unseen forces slammed into his gut, catching him off guard and extracting a cough that sputtered with a backward stumble. Vision broke into doubles, a wheeze rushing into his lungs. Unconsciousness only narrowly avoided by some unexplained force of will.

A pang of feat nudged at him. Near-breathless he pivoted on his heels to meet her ascent over him. Prosthetic hand snatched forward, cortosis lining trapping the blue plasma with impunity. Arm shook with exertion as he slowly pulled the saber down and to the side like an off-kilter lever. "Veina," queen, he forced through clenched teeth. "Keep that name out of your mouth."

Zaavik's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A half step forward added momentum to the forward torque of his shoulders as he sent his forehead recklessly downwards toward the crown of her skull.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

She let him, her whole being falling into the welcoming embrace of the darkside. Energy rushed forward and rippled over her skin. He slammed into a solid barrier, her teeth grinding at the faint echo of pain that made it through. He would have it worse. Ashin Cardé Varanin lesson had been worth the payment.

She beheld him evenly, blood dripping down her face as she took in his fury.

"Who's the sith now?" He knee went up, a foot aiming to kick him in the gut and buy her space. At the same time, her wrist twisted, trying to break her saber free. She had told him to shut up-- go away. Leave her alone! But in that length of time a change had slowly crept over her. An edge entered her eyes, the soft girl turning hard. What mattered before mattered less now. Now she wanted him to flinch. Now she wanted him to know the pain he mocked.

"Admit it." She taunted again, walking forward with those exacting steps. The same one he had stalked her with that night on Life Day.

"You're hypocrites. The lot of you. Hate me if you want-- fine! But stop pretending you're any better for it, OWN WHO YOU ARE!" She lunged at him, one breath away from resuming her flurry of sword work.

This wasn't what she came to Bastion for, but it felt good.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」

Pain throbbed in his forehead as he pulled back from the impact. Aradia's blood smeared now across his face from the aggressive contact, crimson ichor contrasting against the brighter reds of his skin. At the very least, he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what he'd inflicted upon her. Against the blood-black smears, the crystalline mirrors in his skull shone even brighter than before. An entirely different intensity than those opposite of him, however. It wasn't anger, that had faded as soon as it sparked, No, instead it was a certainty. Certainty that he wouldn't lose. Certainty that Aradia needed help. Certainty that this wouldn't be in vain.

A barrage of cerulean strikes approached with a precise hatred. Alternating between blades, Zaavik parried each with deft, deceptively effortless looking strokes. Every return strike he threw was deliberately aimed to injure or disarm, but not to kill. It didn't matter, as none found purchase past her guard. Plasma sizzled on plasma, flashes of light illuminating in quick snaps with every moment of contact. A final clash saw their weapons lock together, the two of them struggling against each other's strength. While it'd been made painfully clear in previous encounters that Zaavik would easily overpower the waifish Sith, this time she met him with everything he could give, as if she had some inhuman surge of strength.

The work of the dark side, no doubt.

"You're right," he said. "I'm a hypocrite." He wouldn't indulge her accusations as a generalized picture of the entire Jedi Order, though. It wasn't his place to speak for them, or declare what they were. He was only a Knight, and a fresh one at that. Zaavik was a hypocrite, but a hypocrite was in many cases just a man trying to change. It was often those who criticized, however, who were trying to hide what they themselves lacked. "If I hated you-" he said, trailing off for a moment as he summoned his own surge of strength to avoid being overwhelmed. "I wouldn't be trying to help you."

Zaavik shoved forward, freeing himself from the clash and gliding backward on feet kept low the floor. He twirled once over, adjusting himself through the corridor and braced for the next barrage. If he was going to be on the back foot, at the very least he'd take the liberty of leading the fight locale. She could press all she wanted but had to follow where he retreated. He'd need to retain some semblance of control if this was going to ever turn in his favor.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed
[/CENTER]

He admitted it too easily. It did nothing-- soothed nothing. She needed to see his pain, she needed him to know. She descended on him, her thoughts bleeding away as the fight took over. She didn't think, Kaalia and taught her that just got in the way. She felt. Instincts and the force guided every unrelenting strike she rained down on him.

It was different, being the pursuer. The control was in her hands this time. She wasn't willing to let it go.

"If I hated you-I wouldn't be trying to help you."

"Right," she scoffed, matching his pace down the hall. "Handing me to my murders, very helpful." Her features contorted with the delayed pain of the reminders, the blue blade twirling twice at her side. She surged forward, an underhanded swing trying to clip up under his armpit. Her strikes were starting to focus around that arm, a push to severe the cybernetic from flesh pursuing.

"You want me dead," she spat, following it with a fluid upward arch that transitioned to clash towards his hip.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」

Zaavik moved again to parry the strike, feet shifting and arms arcing to guide his saber toward the strikes. Blue skidded against green, halting the first, but not stopping the tip of the blue to carve slightly into his hip. "Kuron!" A pained expletive growled from a deep, primal depth in his vocal folds. His stance faltered on that side momentarily before a sudden flourish and compensating readjustment put him back in place. Red spattered visage regarded Aradia with a pained grimace. The kind of grimace only incinerated nerve-endings could achieve.

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered trying to talk to you in the first place," he said. Two opportunities to kill her had come and gone before this third meeting. Zaavik chose mercy both times, even allowing her to flee the very heart of the Core in her own ship. Did that mean nothing to her? Or was she so blind with rage she hadn't even considered reflecting? Zaavik shoved these considerations out of his mind. If there was any hope of a breakthrough, he had to speak. As long as she continued the assault, he wouldn't be able to do that effectively.

His eyes darted around in an erratic scan for a solution. Improvisation was largely responsible for the reason he was still alive. Today would probably no exception. A door control was just barely visible over he shoulder, past the reddish threads that hung over it. A moment of focus, and suddenly Zaavik could feel the door panel's electrical pulse as he reached through the force. On the other side, that pulse echoed out into a chamber much larger than the linen closet he'd only narrowly escaped from.

An idea flickered to life in his head.

The Shadow moved forward, throwing wild and ferocious strikes toward Aradia with either blade. Buzz, sizzle, pop, all deflected. He could see the blue moving for his head in a horizontal strike just before it happened as if he pulled the next move from her mind. He dipped low, his left foot extending and sliding across the ground beside her. A bend of his knee pulled him in as he ducked beneath the strike and strafe alongside her to maneuver behind. Zaavik spun with his momentum, his heel kicking the unsecured door panel and triggering it to open.

Boot shifted flat against the wall, pushing off to meet her oncoming attack with added force. When the force of his insistent parrying created some breathing room, he slipped back through the threshold. With two swings, his saber carved into precise locations along the door frame, sending sparks and smoke flooding into the threshold and he faded into the obscurity of the greyish screen of wisps and flickers.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


A trill of excitement brought a smile to her lips. She was getting to him. Each hit chipped away at his defenses. She could feel his desperation in the flurry of his attacks. It urged her on, the acolyte finally finding the upper hand. All she had to do was keep. On. Pushing.

She sunk deeper into the power, letting it strength her limbs and rule her reflexes. It was almost hers-- her intangible need to break him at her finger tips.

Smoke filled the halls, a fancy flurry of his sabers creating a momentary reprieve. She followed him without hesitation, growing reckless with the power she leaned into.

"How does it feel?" She asked, nudging the door closed behind her. Click, went the lock. "Being hunted. Trapped." She let that word hang in the air, the echos of a lost life still clinging to the energy of this room. The purge was not an easy thing to erase. Not that the Imperials even understood the forces they so carelessly messed with.

"Can you feel it? They linger. They haven't moved on. They haven't forgiven."

She walked in deeper, her saber drawing sparks across the stone as she dragged it behind her. The smoke began to settle, slight golden hue to her eyes as she scanned carefully.

"Once I'm done with you, I'll go for your friends too. I think they'd like that."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「ATTITUDE」

The Force shrouded Zaavik into obscurity. Every photon bent around him, a trick of the light rendering him completely invisible. He stood motionless as Aradia strolled into the room like an amused predator. With every step, she grew closer, stopping only inches in front of him. He held his breath, not wanting even the smallest breeze to tip her off. Hostile eyes scanned around the room, looking right through him as if he was never really there at all. A Ghost. A Shadow. Right under the nose was where he excelled.




Come to think of it, it wasn't exactly a new sensation. In one way or another, that feeling was ever-present. The streets of Zeltros, the halls of the Jedi Temple's youngling ward with the taunting, tormented faces that inhabited it, and now with Ido Bastra snuffed out, even his own home. He was now, at this moment, what he always had been. It would be a lie to say her words didn't remind him how much it disgusted him. It'd taken years to learn how to ignore it, and he didn't much like being reminded.




Zaavik was a fool to think she couldn't say anything else that'd fuck with him. He frowned, even though he doubted there was much weight to that threat. Yet, it invoked some inexplicable urge to strike. Remove the head from the concept so that it never came to fruition. He could do it too, easily, right now. She couldn't see him, one flick of the activator on his saber and she'd be- No. He wasn't going to stoop to her level, she wanted that. Or, at least, she thought she did.

His fingers fanned out with his hand limp at his side. Reaching out to the force, he willed a box in the corner to topple over, drawing her eyes elsewhere. A slow step to the side was taken with which he was able to weasel around behind her. Any breeze he might have caused likely overlooked in favor of the sound he'd engineered. Backtracking toward the door, he waved his arm this time to make an even bigger sound on the opposite end of the room, this time pulling an entire shelf over.

A quick turn on his heels and he lunged for the door control. A beep, and then a metallic screeching as the door forced its way open through the damaged frame. A quick step out through the mostly cleared wall of smoke and he dropped from invisibility. A blank look regarded back into the room as he hit the control again and sent the door grinding shut. With a small force of will, the force commanded the electronics in the door to lock. A loud click echoed through the hollow frame and out both sides.

He wasn't trapped anymore, objectively, but it didn't make the feeling go away. Nothing ever did.

Zaavik's forearm rested halfway against the door and the wall. A few heavy breaths caught him up to comfortable stamina. Now he could talk. "Bhesj," was the first thing out of his mouth. Old Corellian this time, not Zeltron, a general term of impatience. "Just listen to me," he insisted. "If I really wanted you dead, think about it, wouldn't this have been a waste of time?" He was beginning to feel like it was anyway. "I could have killed you at the outpost. I didn't. I could have killed you on Lifeday. I didn't. You aren't that dense, surely."

"You could've sent that knife between my ribs. You didn't. That's why I'm here. You're letting your fear and your pain get the better of you. You think you want to hurt me, but that's not really what you want. You want to feel safe, strong. You think if you hurt me, you'll reassure yourself that no one can ever hurt you again. It won't. It'll only make it worse. I know what you're feeling. Sinking my saber through the heart of the man that-" Zaavik hesitated. "Took everything from me- It didn't fix anything. Nor did the next one. Or the next one. It just festered the wound. I'm not about to let anyone, not even you, succumb to that, not when I've seen that there's still the possibility redemption left in them."

Zaavik Dagoth was a Jedi. He didn't try to help her for the praise. He didn't try to help her for his own self satsifaction. He was doing this because it was right.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


Ethereal forms appeared along the edge of her vision, teens in dark robes and men in white suits. The deeper she sunk into the power, the clearer their forms grew, visible only to the girl they haunted.

She slammed her fist into the door, frustration boiling over as he cut her off to the other side.

He spoke with reason, but the time where she could hear it had come and passed. "Shut up," she hissed again, the words she was forced to endure causing lashes of pain. Her saber pierced the door, molten magma forming around the end that burned its way through to him.

"You think just because you read a coin you know how I feel. You do not." She gritted her teeth against the sweltering heat, muscles flexing as she started the slow process of cutting a hole.

"But you will."

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」

The opposing saber that plunged through the door came only inches from his face. Violet strands that hung over his face fizzled as they were singed by the radiating heat. Zaavik stumbled backward in surprise, nearly planting his ass into the floor. Several clumsy stumbles cantered quickly along the ground before he caught his balance. He straightened, moving to square himself with the door.

A sigh laden with slight feelings of defeat exhaled toward the blue saber. "Have it your way."

Zaavik reignited once side of his saber, the green blade extending with a screech. He reached out to the force, focusing on Aradia's presence on the other side of the door. There would only be a moment before he'd cut through, so he had to make this count. A vague outline of her stance shimmered into his minds eye and he lined it up with door in front of him. Taking care to avoid her saber, he took a step forward and performed a two-handed thrust, sending his blade through the door as well, aimed at her shoulder.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


In her fury, she missed the force's warning. Again. His saber pierced her shoulder, a scream granting him the knowledge of his mark. Her saber yanked out of the door, metaphorical red descending over her vision.

He was granted a moment's reprieve as she stepped back, clutching at her shoulder with pained grunts. If only she could do that healing thing on command. She didn't even understand it. Never mind, that. She raised a bloody hand, her vision blurring with tears of exertion. The force crushed down on the weakened door, bits of it caving in inch... by... inch.

It ripped open, bending over itself as she revealed the contents of the room. She. Couldn't. Stand. To know. He knew. What they had done to her. Her expression contorted in pure spite, unrecognizable as she gathered her pain to her.

"I'll tell Allyson you said bye."

Lightening shot from her fingertips, startling even her as the red arms reached for his body.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」



Zaavik's eyes widened as a jagged flash of white-hot hatred spewed forth from Aradia's fingertips. He braced, extending his second blade from the hilt, and swung the saber forward to catch the oncoming energy. The impact of electricity on plasma kicked, pushing the hilt towards his chest and sending him sliding flat-footed across the ground.

Volatile tendrils arced off the blade and grasped at his body. A painful, electrical tickle began to seize his muscles. His hold on the lighting through the force faltered. It reached out and ravaged the inner workings of his saber hilt. Electronics droned, the power cell popping once overloaded. Both blades fizzled out instantly, allowing the lighting to overtake him.

Energy rippled through his body, causing him to cry out in laborious anguish. The dark side lifted him, throwing him across the wide corridor and sent him back-first into the wall. Momentum snapped his head backwards, skull colliding with the durasteel wall with a loud thud. Consciousness absconded, and his limp form crumpled as it fell to the floor face down.

Wisps of smoke curled and slithered towards the ceiling from the back of his jacket. Zaavik lie motionless aside from the occasional spasm of a limb or extremity.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed



Aradia stepped forward, unflinching to his cries. Good. Yes. She had cried too. It had changed nothing, did he understand that now? This was what helpless felt like. She tossed him into the durasteel wall like a doll, the thrill of control rushing through her veins. She could do anything to him now. Crush him. Kill him. Make him scream.

"You want to understand me?"

She held him there, the lightening flowing throughly through her fingertips as she kept him pinned-- Dangling, in agony, staring down his death.

Just like she had that day on Bastion. She flinched, faltering for moment before the grip on him tightened.

"Imagine it now." She urged, a sense of desperation in her tone as she tried to connect-- tried to rationalize the horrors of this moment as she drove the life from his body with her hands.

"You're dying. And your friends are all behind you-- dying. You're helpless. You're pathatic--arg She let his unconscious body drop, the static leaving the air as her blood pulsed in her ears.

"Get up!" Telekinetic strings wrapped around him, trying to toss him into the opposite wall of their hall.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「DIE BY THE BLADE」




Zaavik regained consciousness as he was flung through the air. Blood from the back of his head arced and spattered against the floor. His half-limp tumble through the air ended unceremoniously as he smacked shoulder first into the opposite wall. The tie in his hair came out, letting violent strands fall freely just beyond shoulder-length. Swaths of his bright hair saturated in blood near the scalp. A hard thump against the floor echoed through the hallway as he finally became reacquainted with the ground.

For a moment, he was deathly motionless again. A flicker of movement finally, his left arm pulling in to brace his forearm against the ground. Zaavik grunted as he pushed himself up, head raising to look at Aradia behind a purple veil of hair. Against the protest of the throbbing in his head and pain in strained muscles that still felt the echo of lighting-induced convulsions, he stood.

His vision twisted, seeing double of the ginger assailant in front of him. The world around him spun and wobbled, causing him to stagger and sway as he attempted to remain upright. Crimson ichor flowed from his head and down the back of his neck. The blood caressed his mired skin with a sickening, unnerving warmth as it trickled inch by inch, slowly overtaking the cloth of the shirt beneath his jacket.

"That's why we're different," he intonated haggardly. A disfigured hand held up, three fingers were broken from one of the twins falls he'd taken. The already disfigured extremity now jagged and brutalist with tips pointing in directions they shouldn't. A blur of metallic sliver slid from his inner jacket pocket into the prosthetic left, his primary hand. A crimson blade ignited with a screech, illuminating the familiar hilt of Aradia's former saber that he'd taken from her all that time ago.

"I won't give in to my suffering so easily."

An awkward, uncoordinated step forward ushered a wild overhead arc to the left, striking again at the injured shoulder. Even in his daze, the trajectory was deliberately non-fatal.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed

The brutal truth of his words caused a visible flinch, the cold kiss of shock hitting her cheeks as his empathy turned cruel.

The inability to connect caused a flash of disappointment, both of them withdrawing their attempts to reach the other. Her twisted methods not withstanding.

"You will never understand," she whispered, her vibrant fury turning cold and meticulous. He brandished her stolen saber, the one she had been unable to retrieve all that time ago. Her nostrils flared. She sunk into a stance and watched his wild approach, her muscles flexing in preparation. All it took was a simple, redirecting parry and a step to the right.

Her expression was cold and unfeeling, the once overwhelmed acolyte now distant-- calculating.

As his momentum took him past her, she brought the blue blade down across his back.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「BLOOD AND GUTS」

In his concussed blur, Zaaik's momentum clumsily faltered with the strike that Aradia batted away. Feet unable to keep the tempo of his follow-through, he stumbled past her side. Danger assaulted his senses, a dull and distant signal behind the throbbing in his head that beckoned him to how and where he should defend himself. Shoulders and hips torqued to turn, but his feet remained tied amongst themselves, unable to coordinate past the wild oscillation of the world around him.

A horrible, scorching slice assaulted the nerves in his back. Just beside his spine, plasma incinerated flesh from the base of his hips up a black, cauterized snaking path up to the back of his neck. Another loud grunt of anguish and his legs gave as he plummeted towards the floor. Jacket split in two, falling down his arms as he caught himself with either hand and resting around his wrists.

The sleeveless shirt beneath, saturated in his own blood, hung on only by a few threads at the neck and brim. Disfigured epidermal lines sprawled his exposed arms in disgusting, erratic melted patterns. Crude prosthetic attached below the left elbow with little more than bracing spikes, the absence of synth flesh allowing the unsettling leyline between flesh and cybernetic to display. All of these things; testaments to his sufferings, and failures. Now, a dark swath of flesh burned away had been added to the gallery.

Zaavik struggled to stay on his knees and forearms, nearly resigning flat on his stomach several times as he crawled forward at a pitiful pace. One arm suddenly flung back, sending the unignited saber blade toward Aradia and the remnants of one side of his jacket flinging to the side. He twisted, near-screaming in pain as he landed on his opposite side, the fingers caught beneath his hip crunching further. With that hand free of obstruction, he fidgeted desperately for his rear-concealed blaster.

A slow, wobbly aim sent a stun bolt wide, whizzing past Aradia and slamming into the ceiling, and knocking a tile ajar from the frame. Another shot, only to a similar effect. His vision was to split, and he was too dazed to have any hope of hitting. Yet, still, he fired again.

Bastion Academy FEL REDOUBT| Zaavik Perl | Closed


The pain in her shoulder no longer reached her, his cries sending tingles across her spine. His jacket split open, revealing the jagged scars across his back. Recognition crept over her, echos of her past tearing through her mind.

The cool air across her exposed torso. The restraints.

The fear.

The rise and fall of the whip from the corner of her vision. The noises she made-- the pain never ceasing.

Her hand faltered, not following up on the vulnerability of his back with another strike. She caught his shots with her blade, her expression blank as she stared down the mirror of her past. He crawled forward. She stepped with him, finally striking at the cybernetic that held the weapon, aiming to disarm him by severing it.

She kicked at his torso, trying to flip him over and force him to look at her.

Look at her.

She leveled the dead jedi's blade to his neck, flickers of a struggle catching in the empty planes of her face as she found herself on the other side of her past.

"You deserve this," she pressed, though to who was unclear.

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「BLOOD AND GUTS」​

Artificial nerves pulsed a dampened sensation of pain to Zaavik's brain as the blaster and several metallic fingers were sundered from his left hand. Both halves of the blaster skipped against the floor as his arm dropped limply by the wayside. A blunt strike landed upon his gut, toppling him over to his back with a loud forced exhale. His arms pulled inward, pressure on the elbows lifting him slightly to gaze up the point of a saber.




Zaavik grimaced, a pained groan coming through bared and gritted teeth as he faltered down to only one elbow. Vision clarified to her blood-streaked face, blue eyes locked dead into opposing mirrored hues. "Go on, then," he provoked with a hiss. "You want it so badly? Kill me." His voice was stern, not a single shred of fear bleeding through. Not even so much as a blink broke the eye-contact on his end.

"But it isn't going to make anything easier," he added. Chin raised, exposing his throat and revealing the burns that crept up halfway. He was open, exposed, finished, totally helpless if she decided to snuff out here and now. "It will only add to the weight of your suffering. If you're truly so lost, get it over with." Blood began to trickle down his forehead and around his eyes, reaching for his jawline with a deliberate descent.

"Just ask yourself first: Can you carry that weight?"

A shiver crept over her, her body riddled with goosebumps as she held his defiant, bloody gaze.

The sense of power she held over him was definite. Infinite. Unchallenged. He deserved to be punished, they all did. They all did. A noise of pain caught in her chest, Maynard Treicolt 's spiteful gaze bubbling forward. He wouldn't have hesitated. Oceiros Sunstrider had not hesitated.

All of her pain boiled down to hilt of saber and the unanimous decision that she didn't deserve life. It was wrong. It was shallow. Even now she saw that he didn't understand. Killing him stopped nothing. It only made her just like them.

It wasn't fair.

She let out a scream of pain, reeling her arm back... and smashing the hilt into the ground next to him. The saber flickered out, the jedi weapon shattering. "Fine! Take my memories. Keep them. I hope they fester inside of you. I hope that darkness you pretend doesn't exists d e v o u r s you. You are no better than me.

You're a monster. I curse you to never forget it." She spat, eternal animosity in her eyes.

Her stolen sith saber jumped into her hands, pulsing like an old friend. She breathed it in... then turned, leaving him to bleed out on his own.

It was more kindness than the Acolytes of Korriban were spared.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

FEL REDOUBT // BASTION
SECOND BASTIONFALL
Darth Daiara

「YOU'RE GONNA CARRY THAT WEIGHT」​

Zaavik didn't say anything further. He could see the turbulent ocean of hatred and anger inside of her begin to part. Just as soon as the image came to him, she discarded her weapon in a fit. Vexingly stoic, his visage stared sternly back as she rebuked him, cursed him. He believed she might be projecting, faced with something and turning it on him. Had is words gotten through? Did she see, or perhaps realize something? It was unclear to him.

Silently, he watched her storm away until she disappeared further into the Redoubt. When she was gone, he let himself down slowly. He cringed, arching his back at the pain of the fresh cut up his back pressing against the floor. Pained whispers cursed in Zeltron as he rolled to his side, breathing heavily. A mixture of blood and sweat stung as it got into his eye, forcing him to squeeze it shut.

Damaged prosthetic fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a comm device before dropping it onto the ground beside him. His other hand reached out, painfully clawing at it with broken fingers, wincing and groaning until he managed to weasel it beside his face. Zaavik closed what was left of his prosthetic into a fist and pressed it hard against the comm until he managed to trigger the activation switch.

The comm would broadcast to the NJO frequency. "This is Nox," he began. Codenames weren't frequent, but if he was this deep, no reason to take chances. Especially given that there is a handful of Sith that, should they be listening somehow, dropping his name would mean certain death. "I uh- I messed up. I'm tau delta," incapacitated. "-Gonna need extract. Point silver, 'coords are on the broadcast."

Zaavik exhaled, letting his head drop to the side as he slumped down. A smug grin crawled across his face, follow shortly a light titter. She didn't kill him. He was alive. Spared. That had to be worth something, right? Maybe this wasn't a total failure after all. He did something.

"You're a monster. I curse you to never forget it."​

Zaavik had his own weight to carry too, he wouldn't forget.

If the saber sang to her as the coin sang to him, maybe she'd learn the tragic extent of that weight. Just as he'd done hers.

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Tunnels underneath Ravelin
Enemies: Xeykard , TSE
Allies: Hans Rennagen Agrrur'arr Rurik Fel
Equipment: Crossguard Silver Lightsaber, Imperial Knight Battle Armor, NIO MK 1 Battle Shield

Jin stood his ground, even as the screams continued, the blood flowed along the tunnels, and the bodies kept mounting. All the battle brothers could do was hold the line. Hold the line and prevail against the unending unholy horde that was the Sith. “Hold fast my brothers. For Master Fel we hold the line. Bastion will not fall not on this day!!” He shouted as if held in possession by some kind of religious fervor. It was the strength of his convictions that kept his willpower.

Even as the odds seemed stacked against them. Even as they faced a titan that could smite them. With one single gargantuan blow. The spirit of the New Imperials was strong and just. It would not falter to the scum of the Sith. The cries started to echo, the slashing and bashing of sword and shield roared. The smell of ionized air and death. All around them. As if it all became too much to bear in the slightest.

It was as if Jin’s own spirit was starting to wane against mounting darkness that threatened to destroy the revolution they so carefully built. If Bastion fell then the Sith would win. The great crusade against the darkness would be all for nothing. But then in such a moment of struggle, of when faith would be tested. A collective tremor was felt through the Force. A presence that Jin, that they all could recognize. The Iron fist himself Rurik Fel had arrived.

“Stand your ground lads! Master Fel is coming!!” He said his weary tone now was revitalized with joy. As if Fel’s own signature has reinforced the Imperial Knights to action. Causing Jin to hack with his sword, Bash in triumphantly with his shield. Now that he had sensed that hope was coming. That with the Iron Master himself, Bastion would stand today!

 

[FN-999]

POST: IV
OBJECTIVE: I
LOCATION: Fortress Imperator, North Gate
EQUIPMENT:

• FN-999: In signature, Reaper Chainblaster
• ST-1121: Armor | Rifle | 5x basic smoke grenades

UNIT: The 19th Stormtrooper Assault Company (237/240) (see detailed status on tactical map)
ALLIES: NIO | Uriel Tokarev (in radio proximity) | Kolson Vrask / Noel Strasza (19th NPCs in physical proximity) | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Tyrell Paxxus | Meko Sorrin | Zakaria Black | Vostok Grauv
HOSTILES: TSE | UX-0626 | Kesran Opadal (indirectly engaging with NPCs)

The 319th Platoon - JUSTICA ETERNO
27/30

"INCOMING FIRE!!"
​

A Sith trooper slid out from behind some of the wreckage, aiming and firing a large rifle at the torso of ST-1121 and one of his sergeants. The lieutenant leapt to the right as he saw the trooper aim her gun, but his sergeant was not as fast. A superheated blue orb struck the trooper directly in her torso, piercing through her armor and slicing through her body, leaving a gaping hole where her internal organs once resided.

Dear god.

The thought repeated over and over in his head, completely thrown into disarray by the unexpected firepower sent against them. If a single shot from the trooper's long rifle could instantly kill a fully armored trooper, then personal range would be the only safe distance of engagement.

Throwing a smoke grenade ahead of him for cover, ST-1121 rushed forwards to the trooper's estimated position, firing several bolts from his rifle into the wreckage.

He then took a deep breath and channeled the force. He then made his voice into a booming sound. This would seem to the troopers like it was all around them.

"Ahhh, company", his baritone voice echoed all around the wreckage, he hoped it would distract Alina however, he quickly thought of her and hoped she was dealing with that warrior. He would go to her to assist with the Zabrak soon enough.

"I greet you soldiers, but I fear you are insignificant". He purposely built up the dread of the surrounding baritone voice.

"Your souls now betray you", he now sensed fear in a few troopers.

"Your world will be taken, and the Sith will once again rain supreme over this planet".

He now finished his voice with one loud shouting statement

"You must realize, you are all DOOMED".

He could hear a couple troopers, move their steps quickly, shuffling to reconfigure their footing.

"I BRING DEATH!!!!!!!".

Captain Nines had warned him about such a situation.
​

As his captain could attest with his firsthand experience fighting several Sith throughout his long career, Force-sensitive Sith proper were always to be treated as extremely dangerous threats. Through the unlimited potential of their psychic abilities, they could individually outperform even the strongest of ordinary soldiers and decimate entire armies. ST-1121 cared little for the anti-Imperial rhetoric the individual was projecting into their ears, but nonetheless recognized the threat posed by him. As he was already wrapped up in engaging another dangerous foe, there was little that ST-1121 could do himself to stop the Sith intruder. However, he could work to ensure the survival of his platoon.

Presently they assumed defensive positions, intermingling with the Doom Division troopers near Noel Strasza . Ten of the 319th's surviving troopers switched targets and joined the Doom Division's units on firing upon the male Sith figure, nearly a dozen blaster bolts of various calibers being hurled in his direction within the span of as single second. The others continued to pound the standard legionaries, slowly making gains while taking light casualties. ST-1121 took this all in within the blink of an eye, and then issued his last order before he moved to engage.

[Retreat and regroup! Contact Captain Nines and let him know the situation!]

ST-1121 cut his comms, putting all his concentration into closing the distance between himself and the sharpshooter.

The 19th Main Formation - Fortress Bastion
210/210

"Captain, a transmission's coming our way."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll take a look."

The moment FN-999 opened his comms array, a message went through.
​

[Captain, this is Sergeant ST-6082, reporting from the 319th's position. ST-1121 told me to inform you that there is a Force-sensitive Sith agent at the wreckage site, and our platoon might need support aside from what Doom has on the ground.]

FN-999's worst fears were confirmed. Against a platoon already engaged in combat with other units, even one Sith with mystic powers could decimate a unit just as they had at that one day years prior. The 19th's formation was now irrelevant - it would likely be at least an hour before a Sith advance penetrated to the north wall, considering that it was not neutered before reaching the perimeter. Right now, FN-999 would not let another unit be extinguished before his eyes.

[Sergeant, hold your position and do NOT let the Sith agent get closer than ten meters to any of your units. I'll personally be over with an assault platoon and leave my most senior lieutenant in command of the 19th's main formation.]

Cutting the comms, FN-999 grabbed his chaingun and rushed over to the nearest assault platoon, preparing to rally it into a slow but powerful charge.

OOC STATUS REPORT: A lot is happening in this post, here's a basic breakdown. ST-1121 chases down UX after evading one of her bolts, a few 319th troopers focus fire on Kesran, and FN rounds up an assault platoon to support the 319th. It's been broken off the main formation by the Fortress, but isn't at the crash site yet.

​

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

D E A D M A N
FORTRESS IMPERATOR // BASTION
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GRAND VIZIER
「 H I G H _ C O M M A N D 」

"Status on Tarkin?"

"Levelled, Grand Vizier," the General informed.

Holoscreens lit up with a live aerial feed of the strike zone. Flickering blue light revealed the COMPNOR Headquarters reduced to a pile of rubble with pillars of black smoke billowing off of what's left. Orange tip of his cigarette lit up as he pulled smoke into his mort-lungs. A punchy exhale sent smoke spreading over the display, his visage contorted into disgust.

"Commissioner Harrsk, what's his status?"

"Comm records confirm he survived."

"Good."

The Commissioner being counted among the casualties was less than ideal. Tyrell knew full well that scorching Tarkin could have meant his life, but the Sith would know no quarter, no victories, no matter how small. If it meant the annihilation of coordinate Tarkin? So be it. Less than ideal, but so too was the invasion of Bastion altogether. Desperate times, as they say.

Tyrell continued overseeing the battle from the very peak of Fortress Imperator. He watched the ongoing siege from his vantage point. Cigarettes began to pile up in the ashtray, his condition not begetting of nicotine fufillment. Order after order was fed down the pipeline of command, carefully chosen from data and information relayed from officers and live feeds around Bastion. Minutes turned to hours, blurring together in one continuous moment that flew by like a cruiser in hyperspace.

The sound of turbolift doors opening was nothing out of the ordinary. Officers were in and out since the siege began. But then Tyrell heard it:

"PAXXUS!"​

Tyrell swiveled towards the commissioner's voice, only for a sudden force to knock him over. Before he knew it, Jaegar was atop him. Strikes rained down, crunching into the cartilage of his nose, breaking it and bringing forth a black stream of congealed, rotten blood. Tyrell's hand snapped up an attempt to restrain the striking fist. His facial expression was eerily unphased aside from his nose that had bent the wrong direction.

"Harrsk?" Tyrell's voice was hollow and rigid. Nothing like the soft-spoken diction of the man he was a shell of. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" His other hand shot up towards the Commisonners chest. Cybernetic strength heaving forward with the intent to toss the assailant to the side.

NIO | Jaeger Harrsk | Willan Tal | Var Koon | Elicia Hejaran | Kolson Vrask | Lucien Dooku

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// lord's gonna come for your firstborn son //:
:// POST III | Ravelin, near Maximilian Heights //:
:// ALLIES: GA | NIO | Enlil //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | CIS | Lark //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER //:​

The ghost of the kiss still lingered on her lips. It had infused her with hope, a vivacious tenacity that renewed her resolve. Her gaze found the others in the carrier with her. A cautious excitement, anxiety laced with a hunger for battle, filled in the air. It was an aura Ripley was becoming all too familiar with. ​

She rose, eyes flickering from one Jedi to the next that sat in the shuttle carrying them to the surface. Each was invaluable to her, despite how well she may or may not have known them. They were the life of the order. The ones who stabbed into the heart of darkness. The ones who put everything on the line to charge forth in a vigorous campaign against the Empire. The pure of heart, the ones who would fall before allowing the Sith to take back power from the New Imperials. ​

<<30 seconds until drop.>> The captain's voice stated over the intercom, interrupting her thoughts. ​

“Alright everyone,” She started, her voice garnering attentive stares from the small group. “You know the drill. If Bastion falls, the Sith will be reinvigorated. If they manage to wrest back power and confidence, it will fuel an unstoppable war machine. We do not allow it. We are few, but we are the guardians of peace. They will not know it. Do not hesitate, do not allow them the chance to twist you. The light is behind us.”​

Behind her, the shuttle door opened, winds whipping her sapphire tresses. ​

“May the force be with you!” She shouted over the uproar. ​

Drawing her saber from her side, she ignited one side. The azure blade buzzed as if it hungered for what was to come. Turning on her heels, her strides carried her to the edge of the ship. A leap sent her flying the short distance to the ground. ​

As she landed on the ground, the battle raged on around her. In the distance, the sound of blaster fire echoed. Ripley could feel them. Their darkness was a stain upon the force, a corroding tarnish. A bolt fired from somewhere in the darkness, yet the knight felt it before it left the blaster. Her blade rose to meet it, deflecting. Others dropped around her, scattering to the wind to take up arms upon the enemy. Her feet moved once again, sending her running to the nearest signature of wickedness.​

 

[Noel Strasza]

L O S T Y O U R W I T S
MAJOR NOEL "DEADER" STRASZA
N E W I M P E R I A L W A R M A C H I N E
In the company of 3 DOOM DIVISION TROOPERS

ATTACK_MODE : // Kesran Opadal UX-0626
NIO ALLIES :// @IMTHEVULTURE Djorn Bline Tyrell Paxxus Jaeger Harrsk
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Willan Tal Asa Yubari DECEASED Erskine Barran Meko Sorrin FN-999 Kolson Vrask Ragnar the Untested

​

A forced stillness overtook Strasza's charging frame just as she had nearly reached the Sith Apprentice, fist cocked back with the full intent to splinter his skull open like a walnut. Beneath her visor, her brow furrowed and she snarled, straining to move as the taxing effort's made by Kesran to keep her still took effect. Power cells in her joints rotated and locked down into their appropriate joints, stimulating her myomer tissue to aid in her tremoring efforts to fight back against him- but he held her fast. Steam hissed from the ventilation slots cut into her betaplast chestguard and leg guards, misting the air with whipping, burning hot vapor. Pressure warnings flared across her HUD, but given the effort retraining her would require, she wasn't too worried about the man actually being able to crush her in tandem. Her body was built to be durable, and the black armor layered on top of it, even more so.​

She may not have been a Force User, but she fully understood how taxing it was to use in such a manner. ​

"You can run all you want kid," the cyborg finally spoke through clenched, mismatched teeth, "we're not trapped on this planet with you-" she couldn't help but chuckle, the sound a cold, digitized mockery of once-human emotion, "-you're trapped here with us." When her men turned their fire on the Sith Apprentice, she was freed, though Kesran was fast. He dipped out, wheeling backward and away before she could get her steel-crushing grip around his throat. She pitched forward with the release of his grip on her, and she turned to dive and roll out of the way of the counter-attack he offered, though the debris he hurled struck out for her, and she raised an arm up to guard her helmet against the impact.​

Those in Doom Division, now bolstered by the numbers of FN-999's rally, switched their focus back to the sniper. The Sith Apprentice was of little concern to them, given Major was here. She was built to kill Force Users. She could handle him, they would keep focus on UX-0626 . And their positions behind cover granted them shield from the deflected blaster bolts he launched back in their direction. Had Kesran attempted to deflect Doom Division's shots, he would have learned that much like their temporary commander, they relied explicitly on slugthrowers and physical ammunition when it came to dealing with the Sith and Jedi alike. They weren't some ragtag bunch of stormies, they were hardened, experienced troopers who knew better than to try such simple tactics.​

Strasza slid down against the backside of a duracrete barricade braced in the street, dismissing the HUD alerts flashing across her augmented eyes about her power cells being nearly depleted. The warmachine holstered her scatter gun- it was useless at this range- and instead unslung the rifle from beneath her cloak, bracing it against a forearm lofted to support.​

"Scatter 'em out." Major uttered to her remaining men. She retraced the details and sightlines of the battlefield with the aid of the droid on her shoulder feeding its electro-photographic data into her reconstruction unit. ​

"Tossing a grenade-" one of those troopers closeby called back in response to her orders. The white-clad trooper peeked from his cover long enough to rip the pin and cook the gaseous charge in his hand, counting a few seconds down, and flung it in the direction of the Sith Imperial sniper and now, Sith Apprentice. ​

As this happened, Strasza raised herself from behind cover and lined up a shot with her rifle, taking aim at the arm Kesran used for his lightsaber, and she squeezed the trigger with the full intention of crippling his motion. If that bullet hit its mark, perhaps it would be a worthwhile investment. Within the same second, she pulled the trigger a second time, firing a secondary shot for his stomach. He had remained not only in the open but elevated, making him an easy target.​

After another moment or two, the grenade detonated, though there was no explosion. Instead, gases were rapidly released with a telling hiss, creating an immobilizing field of ice over anything or anyone they came into contact with.​

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

PROSPERITY’S PROTECTOR | THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | ABOARD PROSPERITY
SEEMED THE BETTER WAY

​

Learning, huh? Coulda fooled me, because it looks an awful lot like you're marching this place to a warzone...it remarked back.

A link was established. The brutalist responded and nullified the opportunity for civil discourse.

His sigh was as heavy as the footsteps that continued to carry him through the levels. The nonexistent explanation of the intruder was troubling. If Asmundr had more emotional capacity, he might be deeply anguished by the information.

He looked questioningly to one of the technicians that followed him about. Asmundr could appreciate the complexities of the megalith ship, but not understand them. He left the mechanics, operations and supreme calculations to the programmatic ghost that filled the starship with life.

Arcanus’s artificial intelligence interfaced easily with the technician, providing the explanation the Viking sought. The technician relayed the updates:

“Our bio-hexcrypt systems received attempts to override.”

“Attempts?”

The technician gave a knowing, conniving grin.

"WHO AM I?"
"I AM A WRENCH IN THE WORKS. A THING TO RENDER YOU BLIND AND DEAF."

Asmundr looked upward at where he figured the public announcement system was wired. It was like a squawk box with the announcement of wrenching. At least her intentions were moderately known. She was here to delay, not necessarily maim. So long as their squadrons made it out in time, their purpose here would be served.

The technician continued, “...each threat that was hammered through at impressive speed was given a certain amount of leeway. Basically, access to the areas requested –– before our system countered them with an alternative stop-gap attack.”

“Why the leeway?”

“Just enough to learn.”

That brought a pleased smile to Asmundr’s face. He could moderately appreciate the sentiment behind that, even if it was a machine doing the operation. The ship was doing exactly what it’s intention was ––– learning.. The explanation resumed, explaining that the ship would allow the animatronic assassin

He would let her continue. The ship absorbed and learned. Understood. Comprehended. Retaliated.

“It won’t take long. We’re essentially a semi-sentient starship. That a single droid is trying to infiltrate.” The technician chuckled, sharing a jovial moment with the datapad as it confirmed the humour in the dire situation. Any further explanation was saved, for it would be lost on the technologically adept Viking of the past.

In the meantime, the ship did its work. In response to the Advanced Model 1, it randomized the riposting attacks to buy time and give the AI the opportunity to counter strategize, and recognize her reactions so they may be subdued in the future. The technician’s summary was correct. In a battle of code, it was comparable to the limitations of a single mind, versus the incredible stamina and computational prowess of a mega computer that had infinite access to speed and resourcefulness. A starship that could overload, and compute significantly faster that nan individual.

Attempts were thwarted milliseconds after initiation. The infrastructure of the programming recognizes each attempt and gives a response. Something for the computational attack to prioritize first –– while queueing up attacks in response. In a cyberwar, it was a matter of who short-circuited first.

A starship was unlikely to lose.

"From what he is describing, I theorize its some sort of Combat Nanotechnology..."
"Hold on, you're saying they sent an Assassin Droid made of Nanites?"
"It's resistant to Lightsabers...and its fast too...deadly fast..."

While Asmundr felt resonating pity for the gurneyed individual, he pressed more questions: “Did you notice any weak points? Weaknesses we can exploit?”

The soldier, holding it's bacta-wrapped hand shook his head mournfully. No special ankle strikes here,

“It’s isolated in the engineering room. Can we randomize the gravity in that hold? Give her no traction and nothing to give balance so we might attack her? If she’s made of infinitesimal components, can we disintegrate it further. Something like cheating a magnet and pulling the machine right out of her? Reduce it back to the bare necessities?

Sounds like fighting it, we’ll just exhaust ourselves.”

One of the crew members who’d been asking the Jedi about the viability of Nanite technology continued questioning: “If it changes states, can we neutralize it in one?”

“Try it.” Asmundr offered while looking at the datapad one of the technically inclined crewmates held for him to see. “Our comm systems look like they were offline.”

“They were.”

“Are they still? Can I hail other Alliance ships now?”

“You can. That’s the glory of a superpowered semi-sentient ship.” The technician offered again, with a gleeful grin.

Asmundr nodded. “Randomize the gravity in that containment then, either draw the quicksilver thing out or exhaust her with the environmental updates. I don’t want any more of us to engage it. No more blood will be by its hand.”

Their starfighters were out and away. That’s all they needed to concern themselves with.

On command, the ship-to-ship communications were re-established. With a bit of interchange between himself and his accomplices, he positioned himself outside the door of the engineering room -- prepared for an outburst. In the meantime, he sought assistance from the admiral that survived the unsurvivable each time.

<Admiral Pryce,> The Viking bellowed (unintentionally, this was normal volume for the monolith of a man).

The baritone continued. <I have deployed Saber Squadron for reinforcements to Bastion. However, we are under attack. An unidentified weapon has boarded our ship and is attempting to infiltrate our systems. It’s managed to slow us considerably, and I believe their intent is just to stall our arrival.

In the event that I need to withdraw, do you have space to bring the Jedi home?>

BATTLMELD: INACTIVE​

ALLIES | NJO | NIO | Ryv | Ripley Kühn | Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Okkeus Dainlei | Krau Rook | Rurik Fel HAIL: Dracken Pryce
ENEMIES | TSE | ENGAGING: Laertia Io

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Lord-Major Erskine Barran
1st Galidraani-Volunteers Armoured-Infantry Brigade,"Tal's Devils"
2nd Battalion,"Blue-Hearts"
New Imperial Order

LOCATION: Fort Imperator

ALLIES: Willan Tal Zakaria Black Enedina Tal Vostok Grauv Djorn Bline
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tyrell Paxxus Creuat Kolson Vrask Meko Sorrin FN-999 Halketh Noel Strasza

'Haud on, lad. We've got proper facilities set up, just for yooo. We just need ye to hold on to life with everything you are, Vostok. Stay wae the living, ya big lump ye!'

The Blue-Hearts' field-surgeon had taken control of the situation in the medical APC, forcing the Northerners from Galidraan's first planet to take support roles in the first-aid efforts of their rather-vocal peer. The first order of business was to remove any blood-sodden dressings and replace the less-lethal ones with fresh bandages, gauze and antiseptic cleaning of the dirtier ones that were left after the first re-bandaging process; the tears and mauling-marks were one thing to deal with in the process, but the bite-marks had ripped and exposed the muscles and sinew beneath, slowly beginning to get infected until the medics set about their increasingly-gargantuan task with as much precision as the cramped space would allow.

<"Barran to MPC One! How's our favourite giant getting on?">

'Coyle to Blue-Heart Alpha! Thanks for making me get blood all over my comms, Milord. I just love it when superiors make me do that, now feth off and let us work! Implementing comms-silence so I can work without my device beeping every two minutes! MPC One out!'

Once the harsher wounds had all been disinfected, several other methods could be implemented without any complications impeding their progress, and there would be a fair amount to get through on their return to Fort Imperator; first on the list would be to temporarily stymy the bleeding, then a quick 2-pint transfusion of blood would be implemented to grant even more time for the giant's slowly-fading heartbeat, though every part of this was still made difficult with the severe lack of space to move around the Dark Trooper's body. From there, blood was to be siphoned from both of Vostok's lungs, with lesions to stitch together and shattered-ribs to set back into place. None of the Dark Troopers' commander's wounds would be easy, all three of the medics in that APC were aware of this from the moment they left in search of survivors, but all three were more determined than most to see Vostok to Fort Imperator's operating-theatre in a stable condition.

'This is one tough laddie! Most of us wouldn't even survive half that, but it's easy ti forget how different he is when you're close up.'

Expecting resistance on both sides of their approach, Barran's tanks, walkers, turreted-ACVs and support vehicles shielded the makeshift ambulance on the northern and southern sides of their vectoring path. All their return journey would be easier with the paths they'd cleared out in their search for whoever remained to Vostok at the time, so the medics would find themselves being grateful for this blessing to their not-so-bumpy ride back, and for the proven high-quality of the vehicle's suspension, having been tested to it's utmost from the moment the Sith's forces started inflicting casualties that day.

Throughout the process, small exchanges of fire would erupt on either side sporadically, though the armoured firepower on display would be too much for any enemy troop-movements to handle, or at least until more-numerous opposition showed up; however, this would not come to pass, as the Sith Empire's showing would have their focuses drawn elsewhere, much to the relief of the (by then) exhausted Blue-Hearts. Lending time and movement ahead of schedule, to a small contingent that had been fighting on whims and guesswork for well over twelve hours by then, the Lord-Major's battalion would continue en route to their destination with as much speed as the head of the column could muster.

<"Barran to CC One! You should be seeing the outer-gate in fewer than ten minutes. Be advised, new Challenge/Answer-words, as of two hours ago.">

<"Myles to Blue-Heart Alpha! Understood, Milord. We can see it through the thermals already, guards are stepping out in anticipation. CC One out!">

'Hear that, ya big lump? Almost there, almost a promise kept.....'

<"SITH-SPAWN TO THE SOUTH!!!! COVER THE MEDICS' ENTRY!!!!! FIRE!!!!">

The Challenge/Answer-policy had been adhered to, so all the guards at the gate were free to jump to Vostok's defence and lay down covering-fire, for the Blue-Hearts to join their wounded ally inside, Barran had to position both columns into in one aggressive static-line to break the Sith-spawn's latest attempts in assaulting the outer-gate. In order to retreat behind the open gate without being hounded every step of the way, the armoured line would move to plough through and over their enemies, finally emptying the last of their ammunition reserves as they reversed and ran back over every monster who'd perished underneath before, then falling through the gate one vehicle at a time; as soon as the support vehicles had made their way inside, the tanks would follow with the walkers close behind, but the riflemen and the officers stayed behind just a little longer.

<"Barran to CC One! Holding the line here, you oversee the entry and we'll be close behind. Blue-Heart Alpha out!">

​

​

 

[Lark]

Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO, Vostok Grauv and Ripley Kühn

Lark had always found himself to be an anomaly amongst the Sith. Though he had always found acceptance and solace within their ranks, amongst acolyte and Lord alike, he couldn't help but think there was a degree of separation between him and his peers. He couldn't place where that feeling came from, but it had always been there. It wasn't exclusive to the Sith either. Once he lost his family and found himself in Mr. Migh's orphanage, he wasn't able to form any attachments to the old man himself, or any of his fellow abandoned children. Such detachment made Lark come across as empty, devoid of emotion and passion. But reality was quite the opposite. He genuinely enjoyed being amongst the Sith. They accepted him whereas everyone else would have left him to rot. He wasn't a fool, he knew the Empire would drop him without question as soon as he disappointed them. But the opposite was also true. As much as he enjoyed their companionship, he would not shed a tear when his companions fell.

And yet still, he fought. This enigma kept him up night after night. Why did someone so devoid of personal attachments fight so hard for something that was doomed to fall eventually? The answer, he found, was obvious. He had been lying to himself.

He did care.

Nihilism might be the one truth the galaxy had to offer, in the same vein that death was the only thing all were equal in. And if that were true, than believing in nihilism was equally as pointless as believing in anything else. So Lark chose to believe in something that made him stronger. Something that might help him find the only things he had ever cared for. The Sith made Lark into something that could help his missing siblings. Something that could save what he had lost. The NIO would take that all away. They'd rip away his family from him and call it justice.

Lark would not let his family be broken apart for any longer than they already had been separated. The bodies of the NIO soldiers that had been torn asunder were evidence of that. He did not delight in their slaughter. And yet he'd see them all cast into the most harrowing pits of despair to achieve what he sought. He'd let them scream as hellfire consumed theirs souls for all of eternity, just so he might see his dear little sister smile again, like she did when he pushed her on the swing set so many years ago. He'd subject them to the most maddening eldritch truths that had even cursed this galaxy, just to hear his brother laugh. That had always been such a rare sound.

Death was the most merciful option he could give the NIO. It was with this burgeoning passion to protect the strength that would save his family that Lark fought. He tore through the ranks of the Imperial Order with remarkable calculation, and as he did so he witnessed a squadron of fresh reinforcements standing amongst a heap of corpses from both warring parties, and several dark beasts littered the ground among him.

Lark's trail of devastation halted as he faced the new challengers, his charge forward stopped. And in its place was a different manner of attack. Reaching out with the Force, he took hold of a few pieces of rubble that had fallen from the heights of the city. Sharp pieces of stone and jagged pieces of metal were hurled towards the soldiers, remnants of the place that helped form Lark into what he had become.

None of it matters, he thought. Unless the two of them are safe.

 

[Halketh]

B R I C K B Y B R I C K
THE LORD OF CARNAGE

DOOM_DIVISION : // DEPLOYED
THE_CARLACI_CORPS : // DEPLOYED
ENGAGEMENT : // Dimitri Voltura
NIO_ALLIES_CLOSEBY :// @IAMTHEWARMACHINE Tyrell Paxxus DECEASED Erskine Barran Djorn Bline
Jaeger Harrsk Asa Yubari Enedina Tal Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Willan Tal

_

Gifted with the vision; cursed to be the witness.
​

“It would be wonderful if we could both have a cup of tea afterwards and discuss some of the old times. However, I do have a prior engagement in the building behind you that I need to attend first. Now, if you would excuse me.”

The words reached Halketh in the same instant the tide of Force energy raged in his direction, but he had anticipated as much. He was not a traditional nor eager combatant by any stretch, however, there was a certain poise he maintained and a methodology to his approach. Eyeless, he was not blind. That Dark energy he had cloaked himself with prior manifested in the form of a stopping barrier, clashing with the momentous effort extended in his direction. Fire swept through the rank to his flanks, incinerating the undead with the precision he expected from a man with a rampaging aura as powerful as his opponent's. Yet, Halketh remained there in place, barring the ravenous warpath that would expose Fortress Imperator, the combined armor of the New Imperial forces, and his own ground troops to Dimitri's fury. ​

He could afford no such thing.​

"What, that old place?" The Vulture canted his head slightly, jerking a guilded thumb over his shoulder indicating the fort, "There isn't anything in there for you. Maybe some past-age champagne from our victory gala, but nothing else, really. Not for a man of your tastes." The miraluka sighed into the rebreather of his helmet, steepling his clawed fingers in front of his diaphragm. He was wary of the voxyn, perhaps more than he was of the man holding their metaphorical leashes. ​

He held an advantage over his opponent, despite their differences in speed. Had Halketh the need to rely on his physical sight, perhaps he would have been vulnerable to the blurring rush of the Dragon. However, so long as the dead man maintained some level of Force Presence, Halketh could see him. And given the helmet concealing his head, it may have been impossible at the present for the Dragon to discern he was anything but human. He stutter-stepped backward defensively, bouncing on his toes to swiftly recollect his poise, bloody, white coat resettling around his form.​

A silent command processed in the back of his mind as his fingertips tapped against one another before him. He didn't seem to offer up any resistance, and it didn't appear as though he was doing much of anything, really, besides just standing there like an insufferable child. And as much would appear to be the truth... until the rapid shuffle of boots and the racking of scatter guns echoed from the alley on Dimitri's left. Bloody, half eviscerated, and scorched troopers in a myriad of armors ranging from TSE standard to NIO elite flooded the narrow space, unleashing a churning, thunderous hellstorm of slug rain and shrapnel blasts in the Dragon's direction- but the focus seemed to be mostly on his voxyn companions. Those who hadn't been so fortunate to scavenge weapons rushed ahead of the others wielding nothing but gnashing teeth through the various holes blown through their helmets if they had any at all. ​

With the ambush underway, Halketh wove a mighty incantation- fingers flying over themselves as he channeled, yet no overt work of sorcery came to bear.​

No, Halketh was an insidious opponent and a decidedly cruel one, at that.​

He stabbed in the dark, grasping at the guessed ends of straws with his attack. ​

Through the clamor of chaos and the booming thunder of slugthrowers, familiar voices would reach to gnaw at Dimitri's psyche if his will was not bolstered enough to counter. With the voices of the dead and buried, came the visions next. Manifestations of past phantoms danced around the Dragon, uttering words of cruelty from once-friendly lips perhaps he never wished to hear. Had Dimitri lacked the mental fortitude to fend off the corpse vision unraveling from The Vulture, he would struggle to discern the haunting visions and voices from the reality readily unraveling before him. ​

'You wield your curse as a weapon and expect others to be so easily influenced?' That voice again.

The Vulture grit his teeth, maintaining his focus on his sorcery.

​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Warrior's Skin
The Inferno

The beast snorted, shaking the air as he peered through the milky white fog that obscured the field of battle. The Jedi's scent and voice were scattered by the wind, sent rolling across the fields and dispersed to where he was unable to pinpoint her position. "Amusing" the beast called into the abyss as focused his mind on the chemical pollution wafting about within the cloud of smog, "Quick wits did not save your Jedi friend on Korriban and it will not save you."

The scent of the woman grew closer, "your kind are all the same. Bluster. Weakness" he hissed, drool seeping from between rotting gums as he stalked through the thickening haze, "you throw yourselves at those too pitiful to stand for themselves - waste your power saving beings who are not even fit to slave in my hollows."

So many times he had seen the Jedi throw themselves to the defense of screaming citizens...just like he had seen the Sith do the same. "The Graug will put you all in your place. I will put you in your place..."

A pillar of scarlet fire sprung to life not far from him and the beast turned towards it, eyes burning with sulfuric fire as they set themselves upon the soft skinned Jedi who opposed him. "your place is in the fire with the rest of your kind!"

At the same time the beast howled these words so too did he throw forth his clawed hand, using the focus he'd centered earlier to combust the volatile particles in the smog. In a flash of heat and light the smog ignited around them, creating a firestorm that roared to life - seeking to boil the woman in her own skin with one explosive attack.

Romi Jade