Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Kahlil took a breath. His focus shifted about, bringing the Force down to keep the guard at bay. But he'd felt something wrong from Aadihr. The Dark, pain. A curse? He glanced to the man, watching as he moved. Desperation, wrath. Kahlil's brow knitted together as he glanced over to where Valery was. Danger. All over the place at this point.

It was a chaotic heartbeat of a moment, but the source of what he'd felt was clear. Something had infected Aadihr, much as Katherine Holt Katherine Holt had been before. Not the same, but it pulled at his emotions.

He raised a hand, bringing with it an overwhelming strength in the Force. Regardless of what was going on with Aadihr, he had rescued Azurine and Valery from that strike. Valery could handle his father all the same. He pulled the Miraluka and Zabrak to his side, careful not to harm them but giving neither a chance to be attacked in the process.

"Your words mean little to him. Focus. I told you if your emotions got the better of you I'd send you back to the ship, yes? Go back." An order, and one Kahlil gave as he kept his gaze shifting around the cultist, guard, and monstrosity still making their way in. A warm to overwhelm, or to cover that which was most dangerous to let it move freely.

Asides, he didn't think Aadihr would want to stay with how injured Azurine appeared to be. He didn't look long, just enough to ensure the markings on her back wouldn't be an immediate threat. They still could be, but nothing immediate. Good.

"Padawan Vale you are to escort Knight Lidos back." He paused, turning his gaze to the man. The mark eating away at him. He reached down, tracing a rune quickly over his neck. It wouldn't remove it, but the pain would lessen. The burning, the Dark. "Keep her safe, yes?"

Aadihr Lidos Aadihr Lidos | Valery Noble Valery Noble | Azurine Varek Azurine Varek | Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex | Everest Vale Everest Vale
 
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Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings
Tag: Azurine Varek Azurine Varek Valery Noble Valery Noble Aadihr Lidos Aadihr Lidos Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex

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The air turned to ash in her lungs. The tomb itself was bleeding darkness as the presence of Carnifex was undeniable. It was a monolithic evil. The kind of evil that didn’t just kill, but thoroughly devoured. Eve’s hands trembled around her lightsaber. Her stomach churned. Every instinct screamed to run. To hide. To disappear. But she didn’t move. She would not falter.

It all happened so fast. The world shifted in a blink. A body sailed through the air. A flash of white hair, of clashing plasma. Azzie crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut, Eve’s breath catching in her throat as her eyes locked on the broken form. That couldn’t be her. That couldn’t be—

But it was. Azzie’s face was half-hidden behind swollen flesh, mottled bruises and dried blood. Her lips were cracked. Her arms hung limp. Her breathing was shallow. She looked like a ghost. Eve’s vision blurred. Her knees buckled, one hand flying to her mouth. A sob threatened to break free—but she bit down on it, hard.

She was alive, and yet... she looked so far from it. One tear escaped; just one. She wiped it away roughly, heart pounding like a war drum, threatening to burst out of her chest. She wanted to collapse beside her, cradle her, whisper apologies, scream. But she knew Azzie couldn’t wait for that. The darkness still moved, still resided, still threatened to undo all.

Master Kahlil's voice cut through the ensuing chaos. His words were firm, sobering. A command to Aadihr and herself, and Eve felt the weight of it settle on her shoulders. She nodded once, pulling herself into focus. Aadihr was already lifting Azzie, careful but swift. Eve moved beside him, lightsaber raised in anticipation, as the chaos of the fight started to fade behind them.

The dark, cold silence of the mines were horribly uncomfortable, seeping into her, but it didn't last long. The shadows surged. Something twisted and snarling leapt from the darkness ahead, a beast born of alchemy and hatred, pulsing, throbbing, screeching. Eve did not hesitate. Sororal love consumed her. She stepped in front of them, heart burning, eyes ablaze with protective focus and thrust out her hand.

"You will not touch her."

A wave of Force Light exploded from her palm, bright, scorching, blinding, pulsing through her very veins. The creature screamed as it disintegrated, seared out of existence.

Before she could exhale, another beast lunged from the gloom, jaws wide and shrieking. Eve pivoted on instinct, breath tight, and surged forward with a burst of Force Speed, her lightsaber a perfect silver streak. The blade met flesh with a clean, decisive strike, cutting through the beast mid-lunge. Its body collapsed behind her in a heap of steaming rot.

Then, the walls howled. Screams echoed through the tomb. Dozens of them. A chorus of rage and hunger.

They were coming.

She turned to Aadihr, breathless but steady, the fierce quartz of her eyes utterly unwavering, burning in a way it had never done before. They flicked to the broken, bloody mess in the Knight's arms.

Her sister.

The sight of her ignited something deeper than fear or fury, something ancient and unyielding. A promise etched into the marrow of her soul; that she would not fail her. Not now. Not ever. Eyes flicked back to Aadihr's face, almost burning through his blindfold. Her voice came hard, low, entirely uncharacteristically fierce.

"Move, now! I'll be right behind you."

She swivelled on the spot and faced the consuming darkness the melted far beyond her sight. Her blade raised with one hand, her other hand open as it conjured more blazing white light through her fingertips, she returned the oncoming beastly screams with her own fierce declaration, as Azzie's face remained steady at the forefront of her mind.

"Come, then, abominations. The light is waiting."

 



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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The moment Aadihr moved, Valery felt it — a spike in the Force like a lightning rod driven through her spine. The shift in his aura was sharp and immediate, pain and desperation bleeding into the air like open wounds. Her muscles tensed, ready to intercept, to move, to stop the horror from happening—

But she didn't. She couldn't.

Aadihr reached her first.

His body carved through space with fire and fury, and Valery's hand gripped her saber hilt so tightly it hurt. She watched — heart pounding — as he collided with Carnifex's strike, as the blade meant for Azurine veered, as bodies fell, as she lived. As he wrapped himself around her like a shield made of fire and resolve and blood.

Her eyes burned. And then Kahlil was there, steady as ever. She felt his pull through their bond — calm within chaos. He pulled the two away, spared Aadihr from his own breaking, saved Azurine from the brink. And Valery… Valery turned her gaze back to the monster.

Carnifex stood there — blood-red saber glowing like a wound across the world. And Valery… stepped forward. Her saber ignited in a violent hiss, casting blinding violet light through the smoke. The air snapped around her, her very presence flaring as she drew on everything — the pain in Azurine's body, the fire in Eve's soul, Aadihr's scream, the ashes of the galaxy, and the bond with her husband pulsing at her side.

Not rage.

Resolve.

This was what it was for.

She moved, not like a Jedi most had seen. Not the patient, firm stance of Soresu. Not the acrobatic grace of Ataru. She became something else — every step a pulse of fury. Her strikes came down like judgment, fast and unrelenting, each blow designed to break defenses, to push the Dark Lord back with precision honed through pain and unrelenting training. Juyo — Form VII. The Ferocity Form. The forbidden dance of emotion made manifest. But Valery didn't fall to it — She commanded it.

Her lightsaber was a tempest, slicing through the air with a predator's intent — not reckless, but alive with passion. Controlled fury. Grace bound to vengeance. She spun low, coming up with a brutal uppercut of her saber. She pivoted, using the full momentum of her body to deliver a crushing strike toward his side. Every movement built upon the last, flowing like fire given form.

And she never once let her eyes leave him.







 
Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
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Will To Survive
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Outfit: Clothing | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman
Weapons: Whatever she could hide in arm compartment

Gravity was heavy again, pulling Azzie down with it. Part of her mind cried out at the freedom against her body, though buried under the unending pain that continued through her nerves. Words blurred into each other. Echoes—no, voices? She couldn't tell anymore. Her head was an atomic hammer, pounding away against her skull. If her heart had had the strength to do the same, it likely would have. Despite what her disorientation expected, she didn't fully hit the ground.

Sharp pain pinched through the top of her skull, only adding to the rest. Her hands tried desperately to grab at the hands ripping her into the air by her tattered black hair, sluggish movements only barely brushing against the hand that held her, whimpering a struggled and strangled yell. She couldn't even lift her right one more than an inch, cybernetic and heavy compared to the rest of her muscles.

Before she could fully figure out what had happened, she was airborne like a kite against the wind of a storm. Where was up? Where was down?

And suddenly the clash of blades pierced through the ringing in Azzie's ears, followed by a collision of arms around her body. She couldn't tell what came first: the graze of the blood blade stinging against her chest or the heat of fire that pressed against her biological arm. Images of jagged fire, almost like a kaleidoscope, filled her vision; faces laughing in the smoke accompanied the wisps of black and red that twisted in and out of her vision. Her back eventually hit the stones, dirt and stones rubbing against the black and red dripping carvings on her exposed skin. Her eyes wide as marbles, the remaining purple clashing against the sulfuric and red around the iris's edges.

She screamed. Broken, hoarse, and interrupted sporadically by coughs, but loud enough to pierce the air.

Fight back!

It hurts!
Burn it, burn it all!

Even as bones knit back together and skin mended, staunching some of the pain with it, the writing on her back was stubborn. It burned with fervor, a white-hot pain that fought back and pulsed through her mind. She gripped at the hand on her side like a lifeline, cracked nails digging into skin as her breathing leveled. The bare outline of his aura cut through the darkness, and she poured all of her focus into that, all while the whispers in her mind wailed and clawed at her mind.

Stone was no longer at her back, once again being lifted, this time with as gentle a touch as one could provide to someone whose nerves were alight like a life day tree. Azzie felt the brutal, dark, consuming aura of the abominations, unable to fully see them, but another bright beacon pushed against it. Everest.

It was too much! Too much all at once, tangled in pain—she couldn't tell the shadows of her vision slowly creeping forward from the reality of what was around her. All she could do was cling to Aadihr's tether, Eve's aura, and Valery and Kahlil's presence of strength.




 

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"Your attachments undo you, boy. The tighter you cling, the further you venture into my grasp."

The Dark Lord's opening thrust had been disrupted, knocked askew, but the crackling saber still yearned for violence. It would gorge upon it in spades as the Sword of the Jedi stepped forth, her own weapon singing as the two came to blows. Blades clashed, scarlet and violet light dancing amidst the shadows of the tomb. Both were ferocious in their technique, honed by years of war and strife. Wherever the Sword struck, the Dark Lord was there to meet her blow for blow; His speed staggeringly swift.

Swiping at the Sword's face, the Dark Lord leap backward, flipping midair and pushing off the ground with His left hand. He landed feet-down on the altar above which Azurine was once suspended. Even had He been bereft of the extra height, He would have towered over the lot. His eyes quickly settled on the Shield of the Jedi; His errant son.

"You've made a foolish decision, my son. You brought these children here and thought you could shield them from this?" He reached out with His left hand, the power of the Dark Side surging all around them. But the true threat not lay with this action, but with what was now transpiring in the mine tunnel they'd hastily taken to reach the tomb. One by one, the mine walls detonated with tremendous force in a cascading collapse all the way from the surface entrance to the tomb itself. Thousands of tons of rubble and debris now filled the mine from one end to the other.

The Dark Lord breathed out, sparks of green flame billowing up from His hand; replaced by the metal sihlouette of a crowned helmet, whose face was contorted in a vicious sneer. "How eager you were," continued Carnifex, "To sacrifice the lives of these children to spare the dwindling life of another. You enjoy playing the masquerade of a Jedi Knight, but you're more like me than you realize." He then slipped the helmet over His head, creating a hermetic seal as the metal of His armor unnaturally rose to meet with the helmet above.

Though the helmet lacked a visor, thus rendering the Dark Lord effectively blind, the faux sockets of the helmet stilled glowed with a fiery red blaze. Now completely cut from sight, the Dark Lord tuned Himself to the pure undulations of the Dark Side; centering Himself within it's swirling power.

Then, He struck.

Rushing forward, the altar cracking under the strength of His advance, His blade sung through the air for Kahlil's neck.


 
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Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle


The world behind them collapsed into nothingness.
Stone screamed against stone, the air choked with dust and the acrid bite of Dark Side power.
Through Force-sight, Aadihr saw the path they had come through vanish beneath a tidal wave of rubble, the threads of space folding into darkness.

Their way out was gone.

He stumbled back, Azzie's limp form in his arms heavier than any burden he'd ever carried. His own weight dragged at him, knees buckling under the agony searing through his cursed arm. The flame—once tempered by Kahlil’s rune—now roared alive, feeding on his fear, his pain, and the crushing malice radiating from the Dark Lord nearby.

Aadihr dropped behind a fallen slab of stone, shielding Azzie with his body as debris rained down around them. His breath came ragged through clenched teeth, the fire racing up from the ruined limb to his shoulder, lapping hungrily toward his throat.

The curse whispered in the back of his mind.
Let go.
Burn them all.

He shoved the voice down with raw, stubborn force.

Pain.
Fear.
Darkness.

They were real.
But they did not own him.

Movement rippled in the Force to his side—sharp, burning bright against the gloom. Everest.

Through the fractured haze of Force-sight, Aadihr caught glimpses of her: blade flashing silver-white as she turned aside the lunges of twisted cultists and corrupted beasts.
One sprinted from the shadows, only to be cut down in a clean, arcing strike.
Another was hurled back by a wave of raw kinetic force, crashing against the shattered remains of a support pillar.

Her light burned fiercely, an anchor against the tide.

Aadihr pressed his good hand against Azzie's side, feeling the faint, irregular beat of her heart beneath his fingertips.
Still alive. Still fighting, even if she couldn't stand.

He shifted his stance, bracing against the broken terrain, sheltering her with his own frame as more enemies slithered and stumbled out of the darkness.
He was barely upright. His cursed arm trembled, veins glowing ember-bright beneath the cracked and blackened skin. The faint touch of Carnifex’s malice pulled at him with every heartbeat.

Aadihr ground his teeth, feeling the curse strain against the fragile dam of his will.

He could not fight.
Not like this.
But he could stand.
He could endure.
He could protect.

Through the chaos, he stayed low, shielding Azzie from the worst of it, trusting Everest’s burning presence to carve the path forward.

The walls trembled. Dust rained down like the tomb itself was breathing its last.

But still he did not fall.

Not while Azzie still breathed.

Not while Everest still fought.

Not while hope still flickered.

 

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