Dominion Return to Susevfi || Sith Order Dominion of Susevfi Hex

[Diodoros]

“You mean the geckos? Yeah I can come along, I wanna get a look at one of these things myself anyways.” That could help inform his opinions about what to do next after all this is over.

“Are they at least big geckos? Like, at least the size of a snubfighter?” Diodoros asked curiously. Hoping that they’ll at least be big and scary to warrant the threat they seemingly posed. As he began to follow the blonde sith lady one of his crew asked if they should come along.

“Nah ya’ll can have fun, just look for whoever’s causing trouble and giving back ten fold.” He ordered, wanting them to continue along with their original mission here to bully the rioters into not rioting anymore. All the while Diodoros had no real idea what the Sith he was accompanying was leading him. Wondering if she had some way to sort of echo locate the threats that she was looking for.

Alina Tremiru ​

 

[Omon Kaa / Darth Diem]

Wearing : THIS
Location : Entering the Arena grounds, Planet Susevfi
Time : present time of Quinn Varanin abduction.

​

---

Four commandoes, with their short semi-full rifles at the ready bunt under the cloaks, and Omon with his arm looking like a mummified Sith. Bravely trudge toward the Arena. It looked more like a primitive structure, build from rocks, twigs and shit. But then again he was not big on gladiatorum sports, maybe this is how it should look like.

Everything electronic on them, was in dark. "Nothing helps saving someone, like dropping a craking moon on top of their heads" ..he thought while kicking a pebble.
He walked a lot this day. He cant recall the last time he walked this much.

"That princess either owes me a drink.. Or I might kidnapped her next." his eyes half closed, as the ritual drained him a bit.
But, he never remembered it was THIS draining.. his wounds didn't heal as fast, and he felt terrible fatigue in his knees.

"Something is off here.." said both to himself and his four shadows, when they heard running all around them, even in the buildings. His men pulled their rifles from the cover, each pointing toward his 'sector' of firing.

Suddenly few of, very aggressive looking men, popped from behind the corner of where the Arena was. They stopped for a moment, observing Omon and his armed men.
Sith placed his hand on the sabers hilt, hidden by the ragged tunic.

"Alright boys?" he asked without expression..

Middle of the 3 men pointed to them.. "A a are you dem Siths?"

Fair question.

"Iz we Siths? No, but we are Sith" his commandoes started to fire in to the buildings, while Omon flung his saber toward the 3 men. His arm stayed extended to guide the saber in to all of the heads. But before he could do that, a dart hit him in the already wounded shoulder.

"Aaah!! You bastards.." he felt the Force again shrunk inside him, as though every midichlorians cell ran in to his bones to hide.

"AAAAGHHHHH!!!! AAAHHH!!!"

Scream was coming from a human, but it did not sound human. It made all 5 of them look.

Man in the middle, had Omon's saber hilt ram through his cheekbone, just below his eye. Half was out, half was in. As they looked, he tried to pull it out.. igniting the crimson blade and stabbing the man beside him in the throat.

"AAAAHHRRRR!!!" small chubby man now screamed in double horror.

But that wasn't the end of this miracle. His hands actually slide from the hilt, on to the plasma. Fingers melting like a summer snow.
After this man collapsed.

All 4 Jaegissari stood frozen. While Omon's upper body fell down, both arms hugging his stomach.
Sounds he was making was as though drowning, unable to take air.. just releasing kekkels, similar to Nexu cats.

"aaaaaHAHAHA..aaaaa.. I can't breath, I can't breath!!" once he started to actually scream in loud laughter, several more darts started hitting him in the back, from the windows.
But Omon just started to stumble away, still folded, waving his enemies away..

"Wait, w-wait.. aaahahaha.." he simply couldn't. This was probably the funniest thing he has ever seen.

His men started to provide extensive covering fire, while pulling him behind one of the walls.

His face was becoming purple, since his native skin tone was red. Sitting down, back to the wall, his feet hitting the ground.
One of his commandoes pulled out all the syringes that were sticking from his back and shoulders. Then extracted a vail of yellow liquid, and stabbed him in to the neck.

He felt his midichlorians spreading again across his body. But he knew something was still off.

Wiping the tears from his face, he somehow calmed himself down.. staring in to the half destroyed wall, with a 10 year old grin.

"That was craking demonic.. Total yuuzhan vong. Hehehe.. Ah Bogan, wish our cameras were operational." he took a deep breath, then extended his hand from behind the wall, Force Pulling his saber from the... perhaps dead, man's skull.
It obeyed, but it fell down half the way.

He growled.. and placed his hand on the ground, all five fingers spread apart, palm raised. His eyes closed, and his extreme Force Sensitivity burst from him.
It was as though he released it while stuffed in the box.

"I cant use Force. And its not the darts. This is something I felt before I was hit.." this worried him a bit. He didn't like unknowns.

"They either produced that resin from the house, to somehow be airborne, or.. they have 100's of people running around with it, spilling it left and right. Midiclorians wont come close to it." he sigh, while pushing himself off the ground, using the wall as support.

"Guess we gotta do it the old fashion way" he pulled his blaster out. And all of his commandoes grinned.

"yea, I bet you're happy" perhaps they were finally stronger then him, and he will have to follow their lead.

Highest ranking Jaegissary gave count, and at 3 they all spread from the wall, and blasted at the any sign of life, near every window. Omon missed at least 3 times, without full Force use.
He walked while aiming, picking his saber from the ground.. glancing in to the chubby man on the ground.."hahah.. ah you poor bastard" but his soldiers pulled him to follow, placing him between them, as they stood at the edge of the building, each pointing toward his sector as always. Hand of each was at the front one back.

"In to the building, we'll use them to get the high ground view at the Arena. Go.." his commando ordered and they moved as a millipede, they were so much more bulkier then Omon they sorta carried him.

Walls of the building were painted yellow, and Omon had that same feeling like in the scientists office.. "Ugh.. damn it, that feels awful."
But commando showed him to be quiet, before he fired 2 suppressed shots at the man above them. He noticed them because Omon spoke.

"Ok, ok.. frickin 501'st.. I'll get my powers back, you realize." he thought, with a chuckle.

From the third floor they could actually see.. there was sea of people all around, all screaming and shouting. Dragging the resin.

"Seems they WERE organized for this shindig after all.. good for them"
​

"Stand down. Or be cut down."

The masked Sith voice, so familiar to him, was like a megaphone, even without Force he could hear it. All of them moved to the window with the view from where the voice was coming from. Building was cleared.

They looked just as the armor cladded woman decapitated one of the people. "Clean cut.. but watch out. She cant see up ahead.. I do realize." he told his commandos as they observed armed men approaching her.
​

"Contact!"

Sith and her men were pinned down by a sudden fire from an armed reinforcement.

Jaegissari leader looked at his master for permission..

"Yes yes.. that's your thing, is it not. Blast away. I'll go find roof of this rathole." he used his saber to cut a hole in the already half broken sealing, as his troopers started to shoot at the enemy, providing suppressing fire for the female Sith on the ground.
Omon tried few times, to bounce himself from fall out beam, on to the hole in top, and after few he made it. Panting and huffing like he was doing manual labor for 10 hours. He thanked the Force he was born a Sith, who could live like this every day.. it was torture.

Roof of the building did not have any resin on it. And at least in that small patch of space, he felt the power surging through him. He hissed from pleasure. Using Dark Side Healing through Rage, to try and patch his wounds on the arm, just a bit.

Rage filled him, though helpful, it can be also very dangerous. His breath was faster, more shallow. And his mind started to use reason a bit less.

He looked at the mob of people, at the entrance of the Arena, some dead, some firing at the Sith and his men.. he knew Arena was coated with resin. But Rage does make you dumber for short time.
He Force Jumped from the 4th floor on to the last row of guards. The Force cut off some mid way.. he landed from some 7 meters, right on to heads, shoulders and necks of the people below.

Bones did crack.. theirs worst then his, but his were also cracked. Few ribs broken, and left leg at least fractured. Several surprised guards around him, stood confused for a second, second enough for his men to clear their heads off. Splattering him in brain matter and blood.

"Ugh.." whipping it off, before getting up.
He tore off an outfit from one of the dead men, placing his anti-Sith mask as well, before start walking in to the arena, blaster in one hand, hidden saber in other..

His step was that of a one legged pirate, as the blood dripped from his ears. Probably having concussion from the landing.

"S.. si.. sir.. can you hear us?" his ear peace ignited. His corvettes crew on the other end.

While shaking from pain, he smiled.

"I.. I need a lift off.." if he had Force, with this much pain he would be unstoppable.. "If I don't faint along the way"​

---

Tags : Kaila Irons

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Orion Pavond //:
//: Save the Clown Obj 2 //:
//: Susevfi //:

The Jedi moved carefully, continuing to gather garments and weapons to keep himself hidden and blend in. Despite his efforts, he forgot one of these revolutionaries' greatest tools. They were a tight-knit group that had suffered under the colossal force of the Emperor. Everyone knew everyone, they had mourned together and built this calculated plan together.

A pair of thugs caught the odd movements of the Mirial. "Do you know him?" One of them asked the other. The shorter man narrowed his eyes, looked at the green man, and tilted his head. "He might be that guy that was really interested in Taun-Tauns," They narrowed their eyes and started to move toward him. "That guy was peculiar." The taller man nodded, remembering the odd fellow. "He wasn't green, though -"

Quickly, the other man gasped, "Maybe he caught something from the Taun-Tauns!" Both men gasped again and decided it would be a good idea to intercept him before he got everyone else sick. Quietly, they moved to sneak up on him. As Orion peeked around the corner watching them drag the Princess further into the network of tunnels he would feel the cold steel of a dark gun to the back of his neck. "Who are you?"

Upon closer inspection, they didn't recognize him, which only meant he was probably with the Empire trying to take the Princess. The other man pointed his weapon toward the Jedi and grunted, "Why are you here? You're not supposed to be stationed here if you are one of us."

They were prepared to fire as they cut off his access to the tunnel where they dragged the Princess. "Should we take him in or kill him, Terry?" The shorter man spoke to the taller man, who had his gun nearly touching the green skin of the intruder.

"That's up to him."

 

[Astrid pentoghast]

Objective 2
Tags: Quinn Varanin / Kaila Irons / open
Equipment: Liber Infernalis / random dead jedis lightsabers

Astrid marched through the streets undead attacking every citizen in her path as she shot green force lightning killing more people as the lightning coarsed through their bodies the life in theirflesh looked drained. Fueling astrid as their skin became dessicated stretched over their bones and withered flesh as they stepped in line with the witch. As they where enslaved to her will her very damned soul killing every person who lived on this fanged god forgotten rock.

She was heading for the arena where she felt the lingering effects of a force storm in the force the witch marched with purpose a lightsaber dangling from her hip as she watched people die from the zombies of their planet mates. Thats when it hit her the suppression in the force the pain surged through her body especially when the zombies around her dropped like sacks of potatoes grabbing the lightsaber and igniting it the nightsister noticed two soldiers with guns turn around a corner she tightened her grip as she quickly cleared the gap even without the force.


Cutting the two men in half as she began walking towards the arena she heard gunfire and grenades seeing people flee she ignored the pain cutting down civilians in her way. As she entered the arena her bled lightsaber in her hand as she walked up to one of the pillars and saw the men standing around firing she looked at. Kaila Irons "keep their attention focused here I'll deal with them" she said even without the force rage radiated off her it was palpable even the soldiers that followed kaila could feel it. They acted like she was a greater threat than those who where firing on them. Astrid did not wait long for a response as she walked towards the stares that had cover.

 

[Kirie]

Location: Varanin Residence, Jutrand
Objective: BYOO
Mentioned: Quinn Varanin | Kaila Irons

Kirie paced back and forth. The sitting room was dark, save for the illumination of the holoprojector, which displayed the image of an empty message bank. First, she had felt ignored. then annoyed, then upset. But now, all that petty emotion had given way to cold, hard fear. Like a lump lodged in her gut.

An hour before, Kirie had finally broken and contacted Tamsyn, one of Quinn's Echani Ladies in Waiting, who had tiredly promised she would call around for information and head back to the apartment as soon as she was done. Until then, Kirie was stranded, unable to do much except sit and stew. Some time later, Tamsyn had called back, and informed Kirie she suspected the Princess had been caught up in some sort of unrest on Susevfi.

To make matters worse, the mark of the Kainate on her arm had begun to twinge painfully. She studied it, frowning, searching for any sign of redness. She found none, but resolved to ask Quinn for some more healing when she was home.

Quinn. Kirie's stomach twisted with worry again. Was she okay? What if she had been hurt? There had to be some way for her to figure out what was actually going on. The logical part of her told herself that everything was probably fine. They were in the Outer Rim. It was probably just a minor skirmish exacerbated by some comms trouble. But, in her gut, Kirie couldn't believe that. She knew something was wrong.

An idea occurred to her suddenly, and Kirie turned and raced back to the main bedroom, her bare feet thudding up the stairs. Behind her, lightning flashed outside the tall front windows, and breath later the peal of thunder rumbled through the house. Skidding to a stop, Kirie rummaged through the walk in robe until she eventually found what she was after: a slightly scuffed black field communicator. Quinn's backup. Kirie sat perched on the edge of the bed and navigated through it hurriedly until she saw the contact for Darth Anathemous.

A confused mess of emotions ran through Kirie's mind, but she did her best to push past them. She opened the messages, the last of which was a perfectly crafted paragraph from Anathemous informing Quinn she had arrived aboard the Second Legion ship. Kirie fought the urge to scroll back through the message history. But already even opening the communicator was an invasion of Quinn's privacy. A necessary one, maybe, but Kirie didn't want to breach the trust she had been afforded.

Trying to ignore the feeling she was doing something spectacularly stupid, Kirie typed out a quick message.

"It's Kirie. Have you heard from Quinn? Is she okay?"
01:44:28

Regret washed over her the moment she hit the key to transmit the message. Whatever. If she got an answer it would be well worth any awkwardness this would cause.

A harsh thumping sound caused Kirie to look up from the communicator. It was a rapid and repeated banging, loud enough to be heard clearly over the sound of the lashing rain and wind outside. It took Kirie a second to place it, and then she realised, and her heart flipped. Someone was knocking on the door.

Probably Tamsyn, Kirie assumed. She had said that she'd be coming by, and maybe Kirie had forgotten to unbolt the door. But, Kirie did not move to head down the stairs. Inexplicably, she had been gripped by fear. The knocking continued, frantic, and Kirie peered from the second storey window into the darkened street. There was no way to get a good view of the door, and the street outside seemed completely empty, save for what looked like a bundle of rags in a puddle on the corner. Kirie clenched her teeth. She had become such a coward in the months since her capture, jumping at every shadow. She stood up to go answer the door.

A bolt of lightning arced across the sky, momentarily illuminating the street in blinding white. Kirie's eyes widened in horror. It was not Tamsyn at the door. It couldn't be, because she was lying facedown on the road, her servants clothes like soaked rags, a crimson pool spreading beneath her and mingling with the rainwater. Kirie stepped back from the window. This couldn't be real.

The knocking continued, reverberating through the empty house.

 

[Darth Imperius]

The Heir had reached the destination he was aiming for. A large square, serving as landing and deployment zone for various units from Sith forces all around the city that mixed here, that were commanded from here, distributed or returned to be treated from the wounds suffered in the fighting. He did not spot any Graug but that was not surprising, their onslaught was not tied to any supply lines or the care for their wounded. Yet it was still a mess, the uprising having much deeper roots and much better preparation than anticipated and the Sith forces now actually fighting to maintain their positions against the rioters. He did not know what Quinn Varanin had been doing here, but he was certain it was a failure. An oversight he would not repeat.

With some satisfaction though the reports of the non-combatants came in. His Knights and Stormtroopers were gathering more and more of those who were not part of the rioting populace but expecting them to be their families, friends or at least neighbors. They were using schools and community centers to herd them, the soldiers and warriors of the Hand offering little in regards to comfort, compassion or any humanity towards them. If there would be kennels, cages or pits, they would throw them in without second thought.

Darth Imperius was not here to coordinate, even though his mouth and mind-impulses did, sending orders and directions to those around and supporting coordination, especially with those removed from action in orbit. His head briefly glancing upwards, even though not physically able to pierce the clouds, it stared towards the appearance of the Mons Mors and the Empress Srina Talon with curiosity. But facts on the ground returned his attention when reports increased of anti-Force weapons and nullification areas. It was certainly an oversight and failure he would be going to correct.

But it meant that the rebels made his plan unfeasible at best and dangerous at worst. The thought of it hung in the air like fog when the rebels fully unleashed their anti-Force devices and the Dark Lord was suddenly finding himself completely cut off from it. The sensation was difficult to describe. At first it was as if someone had burned out his senses, he felt blind, deaf, with neither tongue to taste nor hands to touch. Yet that feeling was swept away and for the first time, in a long time, he felt actually free.

There was a burden gone from his heart, a weight lifted off of his shoulders, paranoia cleared and the shadow of cancer that encroached his vitality was dispelled. He clenched his fist, looking at it in disbelief. It was strange, it was relief, it was unwelcome. The Force was nullified but his self was not, the ideas, thoughts, wants, desires and ambitions were not. It was a harsh truth that a character might be leaning one way or the other, but it was the person who was wielding its conscience and actions. Not the Force.

With a thought he redirected a battalion of Skytroopers who had freshly arrived to the cities broadcasting station. If he could not do it himself, he would at least show what such atrocity of rebellion would mean for anyone related to it.

Credius Nargath | Darth Carnifex

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Unknown Command Bunker
Objective: BYOO​

The air in the dimly lit corridor of the bunker was heavy with the scent of damp stone and old blood. The figure's robed form moved with unhurried grace, their every step a quiet promise of inevitability. The faint light from flickering sconces along the walls cast distorted shadows that seemed to ripple and twist unnaturally, as if reacting to the presence of something far darker than the dim bunker could contain.

The door at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar, voices spilling into the corridor. It was a heated argument, the voices of rebel leaders who had dared defy the orders whispered to them. Their defiance was not born of bravery but of arrogance, a pathetic belief that they understood the stakes better than the one who had orchestrated this rebellion's fragile success. They had taken the princess hostage, ignoring the warnings, ignoring the whispers. Now, their choice would cost them everything.

The figure paused before the door, their hooded head tilting slightly, listening. The voices were coarse and strained, the words riddled with fear disguised as bravado.

"The Sith are going to tear this place apart!" one of them spat. "We should've left the princess to them and gotten out while we could."

"She's our leverage," another snapped. "Without her, we're nothing more than rats in a cage. You think they'll negotiate with us otherwise?"

The figure entered the room without a sound, their presence unnoticed until the door closed softly behind them. The rebels froze mid-argument, their heads snapping toward the cloaked figure now blocking their only exit. The room was small and cramped, lit by a single flickering lamp that cast eerie shadows on the walls. The air grew colder, as if the figure's arrival had drawn the warmth from the room itself.

"You defied me." The voice came not as a shout but as a ripple of whispers, layered and resonant, carrying an almost unbearable weight of authority. The rebels flinched at the sound, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.

One of them, a wiry man with a scar cutting across his lip, stepped forward, attempting to mask his terror with bravado. "We did what we had to. The princess—"

The figure's hand rose, a gloved finger pointing directly at him. The whispers deepened, their tone dark and venomous. "You thought you understood. You thought you could seize control of destiny itself. But you were wrong."

Before the man could respond, lightning erupted from the figure's outstretched hand—a torrent of brilliant, crackling energy that illuminated the room in harsh, flickering light. The man's scream was immediate and visceral, his body convulsing as the lightning coursed through him, burning his flesh and forcing his limbs into grotesque contortions. The smell of charred skin and ozone filled the air.

The other rebels staggered back, horrified, as the figure advanced. The whispers grew louder, overlapping in a cacophony of chilling voices. "Your defiance has condemned you all. You were warned. And now, you will understand the price of betrayal."

Another rebel, a stout woman with desperation in her eyes, lunged toward a nearby weapon. But she didn't make it. The figure flicked their other hand, and lightning struck her mid-step, lifting her off the ground and slamming her against the wall. Her screams echoed off the stone as the lightning consumed her, blackening her flesh and leaving her body crumpled and smoking.

The remaining three rebels pressed themselves against the far wall, their faces twisted in terror. One fell to his knees, his voice trembling. "P-please! We—we were only trying to help the cause! We didn't mean—"

"Lies," the whispers hissed, sharp as razors. The figure moved closer, their footsteps deliberate and unhurried. The room seemed to darken further, the shadows deepening as the whispers filled every corner. "You acted out of arrogance, not loyalty. And now you will pay."

The figure raised both hands, their fingers claw-like as arcs of lightning crackled and danced between them. With a sudden, violent surge, the lightning struck all three rebels at once, their screams rising into a symphony of agony. The light from the attack illuminated their twisted faces, their bodies writhing as the energy seared their nerves and burned their flesh. The room reeked of death, the acrid smell of charred flesh mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

The figure did not stop. The lightning continued, relentless and merciless, fueled by the whispers that grew louder and more frenzied with each passing moment. The rebels' screams faded into wet, choking gasps, and then, finally, silence. Their bodies lay crumpled and lifeless, smoke rising from their charred remains.

The figure stood in the center of the carnage, their hands lowering slowly as the last crackles of energy dissipated into the air. The room was deathly silent, save for the faint hum of power that seemed to linger around the robed form. They tilted their hooded head, observing the bodies with an air of detached satisfaction.

"Let this be a lesson," the whispers murmured, soft and chilling. "Destiny cannot be defied."

Without another word, the figure turned and left the room, their cloak sweeping behind them. The shadows seemed to cling to them, swirling and twisting as they disappeared into the corridor. The air remained heavy, the echoes of screams and whispers lingering like ghosts in the now-silent room. The figure had left nothing behind—no trail, no evidence, no mercy.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

"The geckos and some other things, yes." Alina chuckled at the term. And at his question on their size. He didn't know what a Ysalimir was? He didn't smell like a Force Sensitive, so perhaps that's how it was supposed to be. Most people not knowing what they were. Still, it'd help out to have someone who didn't need the Force to fight. "It should be right this way, if the blood didn't lie."

She motioned ahead as she guided them down an off street, towards another tunnel system. From what she could tell in the memories of those she'd killed, they were being supplied in these tunnels. She ripped open the door, glancing to Diodoros as she offered the way in.

"After you."

Diodoros

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE 2: Save the Clown​

---

CURRENT MISSION - Send In The Clowns
Immediate Goals -
1: Find and exfiltrate VIP ( Quinn Varanin )
1.1: Rendezvous with BLUFOR to coordinate rescue operations.

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Iuuna Talon || Gerwald Lechner || Eira Dyn || Kaila Irons || Astrid pentoghast

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - BLUFOR || Open Frequency

---

The air stank. The rank stench of battle, electrified ozone, and the intangible wrongness of the myriad of Force nullifying measures that the defenders underwent. He heaved, his lungs drinking deep and expelling this air all the same - no battle was easy, and no battle was without flaw. The EMP wave from the main assault resulting in his droid forces being decimated, he couldn't even be sure that the comms were still active. Yet he had to try, because whether or not the Empress' goddaughter would thank him for it, his duty is to rescue the helpless. "There's a gap." he spoke, hoping against hope that someone would assist him. He was Bogan-damned tired.

"All friendly Sith on this frequency, I am sending you the coordinates... now."

Rhythmic gasps were answered by the uneven trample of ten pairs of boots - at least. The defenders had given him a helluva time, presuming firstly he was just some puffed up NCO that the Sith sent to die when his droids deactivated, then realizing that just because he didn't have a lightsaber, doesn't mean he wasn't a Force user. Sadly, fighting someone with a gun was something that the defenders were familiar with, and this siege would be a battle of attrition. Only a few handfuls of rounds left in his slugthrower pistols, his body wanting to retch then fall asleep after being hit with a few anti-Force darts, his ears ringing from both the impact and the insidious aftereffects of those damned grenades.

Trayze Tesar, a man cornered on a rooftop, with a long way to go to rescue a princess. No wonder nobody wrote about the knight in shining armor complaining, Trayze thought bitterly as he willed his half-locked limbs further. But then again, knights with shiny armor did not have their mettle tested.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The gateway leading to the Mors Mon's command bridge split apart, central lock disengaging as each half of the gate retracted into the partition within the walls. Passing through the threshold was Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord and Eternal Father of the Kainate; now architect of the Revivalist conspiracy. Flanking Him were two other Sith of old renown, His chief oracle Darth Isolda and His clenched fist Darth Shara.

Isolda was a mysterious woman swaddled in black and purple robes, her eyes always glancing to somewhere far removed from space and time. Her raven black hair fell about her shoulders in a velvety cascade, bright scarlet tattoos running along the contours of her beautiful face. Shara, by contrast, was a hulking monstrosity of metallic silver. The nine foot tall Maelibus had seen countless conflicts, His metal skin pocked with the stories of each encounter. His large tail swished behind him as he stalked forward on digitigrade legs, claws digging into the floor with each step.

But Carnifex was cut from a different cloth. Even in the simple act of walking, the Dark Lord was distinctly removed from those around Him; elevated, greater. Every movement carried with it the grace of a killer, the predatory decorum which brought with it the dreadful infamy that earned Him the name Butcher King. He would kill just as easily as He breathed, for in His baleful eyes were held the reflected light of a thousand different atrocities, murder and mayhem encapsulated in a single steely gaze.

Even now, His faithful warriors made merriment of butchery down below. He did little to restrain their impulses, allowing them to run rampant where they pleased. He cared not for those upon the planet's surface, whether they be truly guilty or innocent; all would suffer the sword. It was His most essential decree.

"All is made ready." The Dark Lord moved to stand beside the Empress, far closer than many would dare. Isolda and Shara kept their respectable distance, waiting just beyond the margins in the darkness. "At your word, I stand to obliterate all from the face of Susevfi. Once the Princess is secured and our forces withdrawn, I will gladly resculpt the moon with a hand of fire." Much like Tion, the Dark Lord was prepared to do whatever it took to erase the stain brought upon them by the hands of lesser life.

But this time, He would not give the command.

Srina would, if she were so inclined.

Srina Talon ​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Save the Clown Obj 2 //:
//: Susevfi //:

"Quickly shackle her; they keep getting closer." Without the radios and cameras they had set up around the arena, they could only verbally relay information to each other. The Empress, having fired an EMP, put a wrench in the plans of the Revolutionists. The small group that guarded the Princess huddled and discussed the situation. It was apparent that the Sith forces had surrounded them and the city itself. "The Second Legion is beating on the doors; others have begun to infiltrate the greater city along with --" The man was cut off; the leader, one voice that Quinn had grown to despise, spoke again. "But we have our plan B." he grinned, and the other men nodded, understanding what he wanted to do.

"Move our forces away from the walls the best we can. If we lose some, we will mourn once we defeat the Empire." Everyone nodded, understanding that sacrifice was something that was going to happen. "Go, ignite the walls and draw them into their place of slaughter." The men separated, leaving only their portly leader. He stood outside the cell, his hands gripping and leaning against the iron bars. "You've caused quite the spectacle." He mused while opening the door to the cell. She could hear his heavy footsteps draw closer until she could see him when he removed her dark hood. Bruised and beaten, the man hated how she still held her arrogance. Stepping forward, his meaty hand grabbed the collar of the woolen smock and dragged her to her feet.

"All of this is your fault. All you had to do was ignore Susevfi. Don't you think the Empire has done enough for us? Don't you think others before them did enough TO US?" The man spat in her face, and the Princess didn't yield or blink as he threw his tantrum. Letting her go, he paced, moving away from where the Princess was imprisoned. "It seems they're more determined than I thought. Unfortunately, my plans will have to change."

---

Outside of the guarded prison area, runnings ran along the edge of the coliseum from the inside. They ran, laying wires and explosives; they were stuck to the walls of the arena. If the Empire wants in, they will roll out the red carpet. Once the explosives were set, there was a sudden rush away from the walls of the coliseum. Troops that the Sith were fighting would find them peeling away as if they knew something was coming.

---

Time passed, and Quinn shook her head; she must have fallen asleep after the last encounter with the man. His words repeated in her head, and the Empire was closer than he had expected. Did he think that no one would come for her? Quinn felt like no one would, and even if they did, they would have decided she was a liability. Something was endearing, knowing that they didn't stop fighting to try and find her. But, as much as Quinn was happy someone was coming for her, the embarrassment that she couldn't get out of this burned her chest. Looking up her locks, the Princess tried to move on her own to see if there was a way to slip out of them. Unfortunately, before she could, the man returned, and behind him, another carrying primitive armor. Raising a brow, the woman did her best to stand. The basic moments took almost all her energy, and despite the bandages, the wound from him ripping out the tracker was still bleeding.

The weakness she learned about when she was younger was worse than she realized. Quinn needed to find a way back to the Force before she couldn't move anymore.

"She still stands," the men chuckled between each other. Walking to her, he cleared his throat. "Girl, unfortunately for you, time is up. I know I gave you 48 hours - but your comrades have made things annoying." Quinn listened and kept looking towards the man with the extra armor, similar to what they were wearing. The man continued to talk, and Quinn's consciousness started to wane. He continued to speak, shouting at her, but the room continued to spin, and she couldn't focus anymore. A hand moved quickly from the corner of her eye and suddenly made contact hard with her jaw. She spat the blood from her cut lip, and her focus refocused.

"How dare you ignore me?" He hit her again and stepped back, adjusting the armor over his chest. "So, we are going to blow the walls - if they want you, they can have you, girl." He sighed and went towards one of the small tables that had been brought into her cell. As he rummaged, she found her voice. "Your Highness." She corrected him, "You'll address me as Your Highness." The man turned to her and raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?" He moved to her and stood before her with a small, straight blade. The blade's cold steel brushed under her chin as she looked at him, the same insubordinate look on her face.

Quinn's words were quiet as she struggled. Still, she couldn't let him continue to disrespect her, "You'll address me as Your Highness till your pathetic existence ceases." She took a deep breath, trying to continue, but each breath ragged from the bruising on her ribs. "I am Darth Desimus the Second; I will-" Quinn smiled, knowing that this man would only hear these ambitions; it didn't matter. "I will make you my first step to what I desire." She straightened her back as she stood and faced him, her beaten form standing beyond the pain. "By my birthright, I will be Empress, and bring the second coming of the greatest Empire that ever ruled this galaxy, Susevfi will bend the knee as the beginning of my conquest."

The man stared at the woman, "Is that so?" He responded by removing the blade from her chin and smirking. "Well then, let me return the royal jewelry." He stepped forward, placing the locket and ring back around the Princess's neck. Quinn was suspicious of his behavior, but as the sound of the chain's lock closing, she felt a sudden pain surge from a small wound. Quinn gasped, suddenly not understanding why she couldn't take a deep breath. She could taste blood filling the back of her throat while he stepped back. The blade he had previously was now coated with her blood.

"Put the armor on her, make her look like us." He turned and left, "Then bring her to the stadium boxes." The guard nodded as he stepped in with the armor and dressed the Princess in the same attire as the other revolutionists. He didn't take care of how fragile her frame was, and Quinn groaned with each forced movement of her frame. Her voice was silenced by the stab wound and puncturing of her lung. "It's over, Princess." The man said as he shoved the leather hat over her head to hide her mess of silver hair.

Kneeling, he grabbed dirt and smeared it on her face. With her finished, he began to drag her towards the stadium box where the leader had instructed him.

---

As all this happened, there was a sudden jolt to the atmosphere. One by one, the walls exploded, and bricks fired off, leaving holes and large openings in the arena. Standing in one of the boxes is a portly man, masked and wearing leather armor. In his hand, a dagger and a megaphone. "Your Princess, your prize, is here!" His laughter echoes over the explosions destroying the prized coliseum. "Her blood is on this dagger, but she breathes, so if you want her - you all can have her!" As he finished, the woman appeared bound with her hands behind her, dressed to blend into the group of revolutionists.

"See?! I am kind -" his words cut short as Quinn quickly turned and kicked the guard, leading her between his legs and headbutting the leader. Screaming in a fit of anger, the man shoved the woman off the platform, and she fell into the pit that was suddenly overrun with all the civilians turned radicals coming to attack and kill the Empire that threatened their homes. Quinn landed and curled into the fetal position to better protect herself from the stampeding horde of men and women radicalized by something or someone on this planet.

She was soon able to find her footing and stumble upward, but she needed to find someone—anyone who would recognize her despite the disguise.

---

TLDR; The Collisium wars were blown open letting in everyone into the once previously closed off Arena. Inside, the Sith Forces will come face to face with the full force of the Revolutionist of Susevfi. Again armed to the teeth with anti force weaponry & grenades. A full scale fight is breaking out with Quinn disguised as one of the Revolutionist, she is wandering trying to find a familiar face that won't stab or kill her while bleeding internally from the stab wound of the leader.

The leader is currently trying to escape trying to find a way out of the arena through the maze of tunnels located in the coliseum seating area & underground.

You can choose to chase the leader, find Quinn or continue to bring Susevfi to kneel.

Spoiler

Tags: Kaila Irons Gerwald Lechner Alina Tremiru Darth Carnifex Lirka Ka Diodoros Credius Nargath Pacificus Eira Dyn Darth Imperius Iuuna Talon Loryn Praji Trayze Tesar Ellissanthia Darth Malum of House Marr Omon Kaa / Darth Diem Kirie Adean Castor Srina Talon Astrid pentoghast Serina Calis Orion Pavond Tamsin Graves

 

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Arena, withdrawing
Wearing: Armor
Tag: Quinn Varanin Omon Kaa / Darth Diem Astrid pentoghast Orion Pavond Iuuna Talon Gerwald Lechner

"No, damnit!" Anathemous practically snarled at the witch.

"I am still in this fight!"

Stay back while they were doing gods know what to her friend? No, she wasn't leaving anyone behind, not this time, not again.

It was then that Omon Kaa / Darth Diem 's men began suppressing the enemy, earning a glance over the shoulder and a thanful nod from the otherwise focused witchblade.

"FORWARD!"

Anathemous was one of the first to leave cover, pointing the way onwards with her saber. She was interrupted immediately, quickly batting away stray blaster bolts, only to watch the sender fall to Omon's men. The echnosian troopers opened up with fire of their own, scatterguns and carbines blazing red plasma, keeping the enemy pinned until their lord was atop the enemy.

A pillar was slashed in two and so too was the rebel cowering behind it, a violet blade heralding doom as she marched forward at the head of echnos city's trench warriors.

Leaping over the first barricade with nothing but naturally powerful legs, the enraged sith vaulted over the low wall and atop one of the rebels, the weight of her metallic skeleton and the firm duracrete below killing the man instantly. By the time his comrades turned to face her, they were already riddled with echnosian buckshot and plasma as her men rushed in to take advantage of the opening.

They wasted no time in advancing the second their foes hit the floor, driven by their commander's urgent frenzy.

But soon they too would lose their footing.

The arena was suddenly torn apart in a thunderous storm of debris and fire, and everything went black for a time as Anathemous slammed into the barricade she had so valiantly claimed, now reduced to one more body, limply slumped against it.

The world around her became bright then, a blur of overly saturated colors and movement. A single eye devoid of the force's corruption shot wide, silver gaze peering through the splintered hole in her visor, the skin around it red with her own warm blood. She coughed, feeling heavier than usual. Atop her laid the orange pauldroned sergeant who had so loyally served her thus far, half his men scattered about beside, and seemingly being trampled by the tale end of the crowd.

One of the remained troopers came to check his vitals, and feeling no pulse, pulled him of the sith.

"Ngh-!"

She felt a sharp pain in her side as they pulled her to her feet, a piece of shrapnel embedded in her side, a thin gap between her chest and back-plate. No matter, her metal ribs had stopped it from going further, and if Darth Carnifex had given his former apprentice but one gift, It was a nearly inhuman tolerance for pain.

"The frak?!" she spat.

"Some kind of bomb my lord."

"The princess...?"

There was no response as she stumbled to her feet, ripping her helmet way.

Or rather, the only such answer but more gunfire as rebels mixed into the crowd. Anathemous growled like a beast as two more rounded plinked off her armor, marching —then running once more into the fray to cut down another man.

"Keep searching!" yet her voice was weak, frantic.

Desperate even.

Another man open fired, his slug becoming split upon her blade, one of the two halves of that cheap projectile becoming embedded into her armor, the other taking out the man who'd pulled her from the floor.

Rebels weren't the only ones dying for Quinn, but the sooner they had her, the sooner they could all leave.

Anathemous ran another through, shoving him aside as she grabbed the last rebel in her field of view, holding their shoulder in a death grip as she pulled them aside, blade held aloft to strike them down the middle.


...only to stop.

Now face to face, through the mud and ash, she saw it. Her skin went nearly pale as the woman in front of her.

"...Q-"

Her grip loosened, saber deactivating as it dropped weakly from her shaking grasp.

"Quinn!"

She pulled her close, holding her tighter than she'd held anyone before.

Battle raged around them as her remaining soldiers formed a protective diamond, but Kaila could only hold her as tears fell like the rebels around them.

​

 

[Tamsin Graves]

Location: Above Susevfi
Theme: Fear Me
Equipment: GL-13 blaster | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Inquisitorial Saber | Circlet of Projection
Tags: Kaila Irons | Quinn Varanin | Everyone

The demon fought her the whole way to the cockpit trying to stop her, but she managed to pull herself up into the seat and buckle herself in. As she did, Zero didn't hesitate punching the coordinates and the ship jolted forward holding nothing back full throttle. The stars became a blinding blur as the window opened and they sling shotted to their destination. Not sure about the time on the clock but knowing if they kept full pace, they would make it in time.

They shot out of the hyperspace window and quickly Tamsin brought up the cloak on the ship. She didn't want to catch fire from any of the fleets in the area even if the ship was marked as part of the sith order. Accidents and confusion and battle happened all the time. The demon didn't try to fight her as she switched on the cloak it wouldn't it needed Tamsin alive as much as she wanted to stay alive.

Tamsin above the planet of Susevfi looked out the cockpit view port, even from here you could see the devastation and the dots of war breaking out. Her eyes searched in a panic trying to feel out for her master. The two were connected ever since Tamsin made her oath to Kaila the two would always be able to find each other. Yet as she felt outward nothing returned to her, just a vast feeling of emptiness flooded over her.

Frantically her eyes stared forward, somewhere, she had to be somewhere. She looked back forth her dark eyes bounce all around the surface of the planet. Nothing, there was nothing. Her heart pounded in her chest, was she too late. "I…I can't feel her Zero?" Zero bwoop in confusion as they hadn't even done any scans yet. "I…" she started to breath heavy like she couldn't catch her breath. No, no her master dead…she was to late.

She tried to reach out telepathically from her circlet but all that came back was more nothing just emptiness. Her fist clenched and her nails dug into he palm of her hand as she just glared at the planets surface. She felt like she could cry, and tears could just flow down her cheeks. Yet sadness wasn't the emotion that washed over her, it was rage as she ripped the safety harness off and leapt from the cockpit seat.

She looked out the window some more and she saw a world burning before her eyes. She saw lines of flayed bodies in rows stack to the skies. Part of her wanted this to see it all die, but another part was dying inside at the thought that her only friend, her only family might be dead. Down there on this world she did not know lying in the dirt, she wanted them all to pay. Blood began to drip from her fist as her fist got tighter but she did not feel it. Was it her or was it the demon now in control, it was her, she knew it the demon had released its grip on her when it realized it would not stop her from coming here.

Zero watched the girl in confusion before starting to run scans on the planet. Preliminaries came back showing that a massive emp had gone off on the surface before their arrival. It meant they would have to get closer to get better results. So, the little droid engaged sub lights to enter the atmosphere being cautious as it do so. Tamsin stood there seething in her rage and sadness barely registering that the ship was moving forward.

Tamsin other hand reached for the saber at her side the moment she registered the ship was moving forward. It gripped the hilt, as tears began to run down her cheeks, she didn't know how but she was going to kill everyone on the surface of this world. No, it didn't matter how, they had signed their death warrant. They took her family, no matter if they were innocent or not, they had drawn her sister to this world, it was their fault. She had never felt like this before, never had so much anger coursed through her veins. "I am going to kill them all!" Tears in her eyes her one hand clinching her saber hilt, one balled in a fist so tight her palm was bleeding. Her eyes flash a bright sulfuric orange but this was not the demon.

 

[Credius Nargath]

Something wasn't right, he could feel it, like a warning within his very bones. The rioters had abandoned their strong positions relatively easy. Even if they hadn't counted on the arrival of the Lord of Hunger and his personal onslaught, those who were so fervent in their beliefs would not be broken that easily. After all, he had seen rebels and rioters before, those zealously believing in their cause, radicals without an drop of doubt or hesitation, as such, he groaned out of confusion and frustration. It was quite annoying not to know what would be coming next...but sadly, the Lord of Hunger would FEEL it.

A few more seconds, a few more meters onwards towards the capitol's central plaza, the abomination could feel a sudden surge of pain coursing through his body. His armor stopped moving, becoming weighty and heavy upon his suddenly creaking bones and straining muscles. The Lord of Hunger could feel it, the immense pain and agony coming from his deteriorating body suddenly washing over him, his armor frantically injecting the man with a whole heap of pain suppressants and muscle relaxers in order to avoid a complete collapse.

Falling to his knees, the broken man wheezed while the Sceleratii droids surrounded him in order to cover him from any hostile action. With his chest heaving, his breathing hollow and thin, the Lord of Hunger looked up to the sky, realizing what had happened: he had been cut off from the force, leaving him perilously in a state where the very power of his soul, his essence no longer corrupted his vessel, but as such also removed the advantage of utilizing the force itself to stave off the pain and agony coming from this corruption. Now all he had left to feel was pain, hunger and strangely a sort of elation, for without his essence rapidly draining his strength and that of his body, his own mutation courtesy of the blackwing virus would kick in and start to revitalize his body, if only temporarily.

"Anti-force weaponry..." The abomination within the force, now struck without his usual power, let out a deep sigh as the colums of his droid legions marched on. "How did these rebels...these rioters get a hold of such weaponry? There has to be more to this revolt than the empire's intel had let us believe. What game are they playing and what is their endgoal?"

It seemed KRONOS, the Lord of Hunger's personal AI had understood this question, starting to calculate the possibilities and analyzing the risks and proponents of each possibility. While it was doing that, it also regulated the Lord of Hunger's vitals, administering the pain killers and overseeing the man's health, which after a sharp drop had seemingly stabilized for the moment, but was still far from ideal.

"So...the colliseum..." Looking up at the massive building from afar, the Lord of Hunger struggled to keep up with his droids, even if his pace was getting brisker and his health slowly returning to him courtesy of his own infection and the painkillers flushing through his system. They had reached the Plaza and from the looks of it Darth Imperius had arrived just as well. Wanting to call out to the other Sith Lord, Credius' attention was suddenly drawn to the inferno that swallowed parts of the colliseum, with walls shattering and being blown apart violently, pieces of duracrete and rock being flung into the air and landing haphazardly all around, crushing several droids in the process.

"That...was unexpected..." Tilting his head a bit, completely taken aback by this odd situation, reeling to regain his bearings and having a loud ringing in his ears, the Lord of Hunger ordered his droids to march unto the Colliseum, keeping his Sceleratii back in case of an emergency. "Kill EVERYONE who does not identify as a member of the Empire."

TAG: Darth Carnifex | Darth Imperius | Kaila Irons | Diodoros | Quinn Varanin | Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Diodoros]

Didoros raised a brow over her comment about blood not lying. Not understanding what she meant by that. Quickly concluding to himself that it must be some sort of regional saying he wasn’t knowledgeable about. Nonetheless he was excited about what they may uncover together.

Following her to another tunnel system he watched as she tore open an entrance for them. “Well what about ladies first?” He said with a smirk before entering into the tunnel. It wasn’t too dark for him, but was still pretty dim as he naturally saw through the ultraviolet spectrum. Diodoros also didn’t mind going in first as he was confident to a fault given his physical hardiness. So any traps or ambushes he sprung would likely be less life threatening to him. Plus if he was fighting people who supposedly relied on these ‘geckos’ to fight they would likely be in for an unpleasant surprise when confronting the gilded brute.

Although his special ring and necklace likely wouldn’t serve him very well. “So are these like smuggling tunnels or something?” Diodoros asked, his voice echoing off along the walls some as he did. It was a bit claustrophobic for him in the tunnel given his stature.​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE 2: Save the Clown​

---

CURRENT MISSION - Send In The Clowns
Immediate Goals -
1: Find and exfiltrate VIP ( Quinn Varanin )
1.1: Rendezvous with BLUFOR to coordinate rescue operations.

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Iuuna Talon || Gerwald Lechner || Eira Dyn || Kaila Irons || Astrid pentoghast

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - BLUFOR || Open Frequency

---

He was going to take credit for the sudden surge of Sith on the arena, even if most likely he was only the most recent man on the ground to point it out. Still, it meant that things were getting close to the end - and even though every limb and organ in his being wanted to crawl into a hole, this brief bit of respite rekindled hope.

One limb, another, and keep the bodily senses sharpened - the numbing void of sound and the anti-arcane means that the rebels still fling in desperation, the Force and energy that he would have flung far and wide coiled deeper and deeper in him. Wherever cracks that could be found, desperate spurts propelled him further, keeping a body that should not be as focused as it was. When the walls burst, the coils tightened, the springing less frequent but more explosive, the rubble pelted him, bloodying his body, buffeting his mind with concussions - but he cannot stop - the energy that was smothered needed to get out.

One limb, the other, weave under the rocks, quickly draw, shoot to kill, and for the love of Bogan don't forget to breathe. Keep your eyes focused, there's someone hugging on the battlefield, the gears in his mind pivoted and restarted as the unusual piece on the battlefield could mean only one thing.

Quinn was found. She was alive.

Don't pass out, can't rest yet. One limb. The other. Do better. Do more.

The steady, defiant motion that had propelled Trayze thus far shuddered, shifted, stumbled. Lurching awkwardly forward, he gave a brief "Tap tap.", announcing his present to the potential Sith ally. Though, if his unannounced visitation wouldn't give enough a reason to be assaulted, his visage certainly was. A few building materials stuck out of him, a few half-dried splotches of reddish brown across his face and whatever bare skin was found through the rebel's defense, panting like an overworked dog. A knight in shining armor he may never be, but he can be the cantankerous old warhorse who can carry them home.

Should he not be rendered incapacitated, either through the Sith's self defense or his body finally declaring "enough", he would regard the armored blond woman in the arms of the Sith. "Princess Quinn Varanin I presume?" he exhaled, his announcement far louder than what was considered polite - but one can blame the ongoing battle. Or was the ringing all in his ears? "We're clear to exfil?"

A heavy lidded blink, and a barely registered response as Trayze saw the bleeding arm of the figure. With puppet-like motion, Trayze dispensed the last of his bacta-stims on the blond woman, his voice going from a loud, overcompensating bark to a still-loud but hoarse whisper, failing to convey the tone of gentleness he wanted to. "We've got you miss, we're gettin' you home."

 

[Astrid pentoghast]

Objective 2
Tags: Quinn Varanin / Kaila Irons / open
Equipment: Liber Infernalis / random dead jedis lightsabers

Astrid charged up the stares to the higher levels of the would be arena her bled Saber in her hand pain still coursing through her body focusing her mind as it did. Her hatred for the situation she found herself in plus not being able to use the force wasn't helping her mood at all. As she reached the top of the stares she deflected a few slugthrower shots melting them. Into useless slag before slicing the rebels arms off almost completely at the shoulders.


Before moving on literally disarming one more rebel before a nearby explosion threw her from the arena wall and knocking the wind out of her and cracked a few of her ribs and causing bruising standing slowly. As more two rebels aimed slugthrowers at her Astrid reached for her other Saber staring them down. As she charged the two men fired glancing shots hit astrids right arm tearing clothing and sending pain through her arm and body as blood trickled from her arm another shot grazed her leg as she stabbed one of the men in the face and grabbing his gun. She shot the other man in the throat making the man drop like a sack of potatoes.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Unknown Command Bunker
Objective: BYOO
Tag: Orion Pavond ​

The sound of distant explosions shook the bunker, sending vibrations through the walls and floor like the pulse of a dying heart. The corridors were dimly lit, the emergency lighting casting a sickly red glow that seemed to ripple and shift in the heavy air. Smoke and dust swirled faintly in the dim light, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of fear. The whispers, faint and ominous, clung to the walls as if the darkness itself breathed them.

The figure moved through the shadows, their presence an unnatural silence in the chaos. Their robe flowed like liquid shadow, and their hood remained low, masking their face in an impenetrable void. They passed panicked rebels, some running for their lives, others barking frantic orders into damaged comms units. None dared approach the figure. They felt the cold, oppressive weight of their presence, a crushing inevitability that stole the breath from their lungs.

Ahead, the corridor opened into a makeshift staging area. It was strewn with overturned crates, discarded weapons, and maps torn in haste. And there, slumped against the far wall, was the leader. The portly man who had orchestrated so much of the rebellion's chaos now sat trembling, his leather armor askew and his face pale with terror. His eyes darted wildly, sweat pouring down his brow as he clutched a dagger to his chest.

When he saw the figure, he scrambled to his knees, his voice breaking into a pitiful whimper. "Please… you have to help me! They're everywhere—the Sith! They've breached the walls, the city—it's over! You have to get me out of here!"

The whispers swelled, a haunting symphony that filled the room with their cold resonance. The figure stepped forward, slow and deliberate, their movements a study in control. The portly man recoiled, his back hitting the wall as he raised the dagger feebly, his hand shaking so badly it was almost comedic.

"You defied me," the whispers said, their tone chilling and layered with dark amusement. "You took what was mine, disregarded my will, and now you beg for mercy?"

The man sputtered, tears streaming down his face. "I—I only did what I thought was right! I didn't mean—"

"Silence," the whispers commanded, and the room seemed to constrict, the very air growing heavy with unseen power. The dagger fell from the man's hand as he clutched his throat, choking on his own fear.

The figure moved closer, standing over him like a phantom of judgment. "You thought you could shape destiny," the whispers hissed, laced with venom. "You thought you could control what was beyond your comprehension. And now, you will suffer for your arrogance."

The man shook his head frantically, his voice rising to a high-pitched wail. "Please! I'll do anything—anything! Just let me go, I swear I'll—"

The figure's gloved hand shot out, gripping the man by the collar of his armor and lifting him effortlessly to his feet. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of dark voices that seemed to emanate from the very walls. The man's pleas devolved into incoherent sobbing as the figure slammed him against the wall with brutal force.

"Do you feel it?" the whispers growled, their tone mocking and cruel. "The weight of your failures? The pain of your insignificance?"

The figure's hand struck out, the gloved fist colliding with the man's face with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed from his nose as he cried out, but the figure didn't stop. Another blow, and another, each one deliberate and calculated, delivered with the cold precision of a predator toying with its prey. The man's face became a grotesque mask of blood and swelling, his cries reduced to pitiful moans.

The whispers softened, their tone almost contemplative. "You will not die here. No, your suffering is far from over."

The figure released him, letting him collapse to the floor in a heap. He groaned, trying weakly to crawl away, but the figure stepped on his back, pinning him to the ground. They crouched beside him, their gloved fingers tangling in his hair as they yanked his head back, forcing him to meet the impenetrable void beneath their hood.

"You will answer for what you've done," the whispers said, cold and final. "And I will enjoy every..."

"...second..." the figure slammed his head into the ground,

"...of..." again,

"...IT!" and again.

With a swift, precise motion, the figure delivered a blow to the base of his skull. The man slumped forward, unconscious but alive. The figure stood, their robe flowing around them like smoke, and regarded the broken form at their feet with an air of detached satisfaction. She picked up the dagger, running her finger over it.

"Fate is a cruel mistress," the whispers murmured, barely audible in the heavy silence. "And you are but a pawn in my design."

The figure gestured to a pair of rebels who lingered at the edge of the room, too terrified to intervene. They snapped to attention as the whispers addressed them. "Take him to the ship. Ensure he lives, but make sure he cannot escape. His judgment is not yet complete."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Save the Clown Obj 2 //:
//: Susevfi //:
//: Kaila Irons //: Trayze Tesar //:

It was over.

It was all over, the torture and ridicule.

All of it was over.

Freedom was just through the crowd and the walls. Quinn scrambled to her feet; every ounce of strength she had left kept her moving. The crowd-fought bodies thrashed as lightsabers and blasters fired over the sound of smoldering debris. Her head was ringing, and it was hard to breathe, not only from the smoke but also from what he had done earlier. Each time Quinn inhaled, it felt like it made no difference; she was still gasping for air. Every inch of her body burned as she pushed her way through. Closer and closer, the exit drew near, and suddenly - she was stopped. A hand gripped her shoulder tightly, causing the Princess to wince in pain from the fractured bone. Whipped around without much resistance, the heat of a lightsaber caressed her face, eyes wide.

To be killed by one of her rescuers was a tragic play. Quinn accepted it; at least the blow would be fast and quick. She didn't flinch or close her eyes. Quinn Varanin would face her death like a warrior. The blade never touched her skin, and only the pain of her beatings would pulsate through her body. Her name the Princess would hear her name and then the warmth of an embrace so tight she thought maybe she did die. Quinn felt her senses return to her; the adrenaline of facing death faded as she tried to take in another deep breath. The hug and the woman's faint perfume lingering on her skin reminded Quinn - told Quinn who had saved her. "Kai-Kaila," her voice whispered; her collapsed lung and weakness didn't allow her voice any more volume. "You came," Tears stained the Echani's face, remembering how desperately she had cried out for the Governor.

Lips moved, but no sound escaped as her rattled breathing was drowned out by the combat around them. Breathing continued to get worse, and she could taste the blood in the back of her throat with each attempt. As quickly as Kaila had come up, another - one Quinn recognized as Malum's cousin. She had seen him at a party she attended with the Marr heir. His question came fast, and she nodded. There was a sudden surge of pain in her arm that came from something he did. Looking down at the arm that had been sliced open almost a day prior, continued to bleed as if it was a fresh wound.

But something else was happening. A sudden chill clawed at her spine till it reached the base of her neck. Her feet stopped moving forward, and the Princess whimpered in pain. Every fiber of her being screamed from the severe sensation that attacked every nerve. Without warning, her empty stomach regurgitated whatever bile was left onto his shoes. There was no warning about Quinn being allergic to bacta, and Quinn didn't think she was allergic to it. The reaction only solidified her greatest fear. She had been cut off from the Force for over a day. The longest the woman had ever been, her body was rejecting everything it could. Lifting her shoulder, she wiped her lip and sighed. "Sorry," she quietly apologized while another agonizing bolt of pain surged through her.

Stumbling, she was beginning to lose consciousness; her vomit was colored a deep crimson and even smelled more of blood than bile. Where she had wiped her mouth, blood stained the tan smock. Quinn knew what was happening, and as she began to fade, she let her weight slump into the woman who had found her.

At least she was found; she wasn't alone. Although it wasn't how she thought it would end, Quinn was happy, and at least Kaila was there. She was able to see her dear Governor again. Her mind drifted for a moment to a woman she had promised freedom to - it was a promise that would probably go unfulfilled, and a single tear fell from the Princess's eye as she looked at the sky to see the Mors Mon once more.

She was safe, and it was over.