Populate [RNR] To Hell and Back || The Sundering || Populate of Vendaxa

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila adjusted the collar of her travelling tunic; it was an attempt to stop it from continually rubbing against the left hand side of her shoulder bone. The material, a darkened brown leather had been persistent in its attempts to irritate her skin, just returned to settle back on the spot of irritation the moment her finger was removed from beneath it. She really wished she had picked up her other shirt, the one without the threaded seam, but as a Jedi couldn’t alter time, that she knew of anyway she’d have to live with the choice she had made.

She hadn’t had much time really, not enough to get ready to her standard. The call for the operation into the Netherworld had come so quickly that she was surprised she had managed to catch it as she had. The message had been meant for Brandyn or was it Briana? Eitherway it had been received by a B. Sal-Soren with correct security clearance. Bastila had been fast on getting herself action ready knowing her window would have be short, and then unfortunately the window had been slammed shut on her as the door had been swung open and the aide who had shadowed her like a hawk for the last week came marching in, dark green official robes glistening in their velvet finish.

“You’ve been assigned an escort duty Miss Sal-Soren.” He had said, trying not to look at the youngest Sal-Soren sibling as she unabashedly removed her vest and started searching for her tunic. “Ah–Your…” He swallowed hard and concentrated on the lamp that was adjacent to him, “Brother has asked you to escort on a political mission of the most importance.”

“I can’t sorry. Busy.” Bastila muttered reaching for her belt that was slung over a chair in the corner of the room. “Jedi business and all that.”

“Lady Sal-Soren I insist…” He moved to straighten his back slightly, he was about to put on his big boy voice she was sure of it. “Master Sal-Soren has been very strict that you are not to go and meet with the Jedi Strike Force that is currently massing, you are instead to escort your sister on a diplomatic mission that is connected to the duty of the Strike Force. He is not asking in this matter."


Bastila stopped for a moment and narrowed her eyes at the aide. He was tall, mousey blonde hair and had the aura of someone who had never been without. He had shadowed her for days, like a piece of chewing gum stuck to her shoe that just wouldn’t let go. That was her sister’s doing, she had been so angry that Bastila was back and she hadn’t known about it that she had made sure to have her watched every minute of the day. So why was Brandyn asking her to escort Briana?

“Briana needs an escort? I’m pretty sure she can handle herself.” She scoffed and kept putting her belt on.

“This escort is for your other sister Lady Sal-Soren.”

-------​

Now here she was waiting, itchy and waiting for her contact, someone who was attached to the one she would arguably say was her favourite sibling to appear so that she could get to ‘Escorting’ or whatever nonsense Brandyn called it. She felt like she was being used as some form of tool in a feud between the two, kind of a you watch her situation. Then again, Blaire had never been one for playing along with Brandyn’s games.

That had always been her job.

She had been told to make contact with a pilot. That was it. A pilot. So naturally, she’d just wait.

Maybe a pilot would fall from the sky and introduce themselves.

​

Blaire Sal-Soren

 

[Seth Denko]

VENDAXA

Seth followed their steps with quiet purpose, falling in just a pace behind as Lady Sibylla and Lord Raigryn moved toward the overlook. The shifting earth beneath them hadn’t settled, but neither had the tension in the air. His posture stayed measured—formal, but not stiff—like someone raised outside of nobility trying to walk their walk without stepping on toes.

He listened intently as Sibylla laid out the situation with the locals, offering not just a summary of facts, but the pulse behind them. That mattered. Her tone was calm, but Seth could hear the stakes in every measured word.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment when she turned to him.

“Yes, milady,” he replied, the honorific old-fashioned, but sincere. “As of this rotation, I hold rank as Lieutenant in the Royal Naboo Navy. I was briefed before deployment—my orders authorize me to speak as liaison and representative for naval concerns in system, including regional presence, supply chains, and forward operating commitments.”

He shifted the satchel slightly on his shoulder, the datapad now tucked under one arm.

“My superiors outlined the Navy’s ideal stance in plain terms: no occupation, no intimidation. We're here as allies. The hope is that visibility and steady aid help dispel rumors before they grow teeth. We’re not to move ships beyond low orbit without a formal request from civil leadership—or unless lives are in immediate danger.”

His tone was calm but firm, shaped more by hangar decks and flight briefings than statecraft. Still, his eyes met Sibylla’s without hesitation.

“If questions arise, I’m prepared to answer them. And if action’s needed beyond that—I’m in.”

He glanced toward Raigryn then, offering a small nod of deference.

“My lord. I’d heard stories of your service. Didn’t expect to be stationed on the same soil, let alone same side of the lines. It’s an honor.”

A pause, then—just long enough to let the moment breathe before returning to duty.

“If there’s a civilian liaison or outpost leader who’s been on the fence, I’d be happy to speak with them directly. Pilot to pilot. Soldier to soldier. Sometimes titles get in the way of the truth.”​

Raigryn Vayd + Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Aiden Porte | Phillip Slate

​

Lorn didn't speak as Aiden fell in beside him, blocking a strike meant for his side. He nodded, barely perceptible beneath the weight of his helmet, a silent exchange of trust built on years of bleeding in the dirt together. It was a rhythm now - cut, pivot, deflect, step. The noise, the chaos, the pain, it all blurred to a single pulse behind his ribs.

He felt Phillip's presence behind him, flickering like a candle in a windstorm. Fragile, but still lit.

"I'm ready."

The boy's voice cracked over the comms, and Lorn didn't miss the edge in it, the kind of fear that hadn't settled in yet. But that was fine. That was human. Fear meant you still had something left to lose. The trick was not letting it anchor you. Lorn knew that all too well.

"Stay close." Lorn muttered, low and sure. "Let your instincts work. Don't think. Just move."

They broke through the outer perimeter in a crush of light and sound, golden saber leading the charge as the Vanguards pushed in behind them. The Gatehouse loomed now, massive, grotesque, crawling with Nether-grown material and ancient metal. A low vibration echoed from within, like the building itself was alive and dreaming.

And then it spoke.

A voice slithered out from the dark.

"Welcome, parasites. You reek of fear and false purpose. I can smell your little gods rotting inside you."

The voice was cold and enormous, not projected through speakers, but pressed into their very bones. It didn't echo so much as settle, like fog, like smoke, like something trying to crawl inside their minds.

"You fight for a dying lie. The Force is not your gift. It is your leash. And we are the fire that will burn it from the flesh."

Lorn didn't flinch. He'd heard worse in the dreams that came after battles. The kind of dreams that never ended. He felt the growls next, not heard, felt, like a stampede crawling across the underlayer of reality. The Gatehouse pulsed with that dread, a heartbeat in reverse.

He turned to Aiden and Phillip.

"Keep your minds locked down." he said, steady and quiet. "This place will try to crawl inside your thoughts. Let it knock, but don't answer."

The door cracked open before them with a groan like splitting bone. The heat inside was thick, sulfuric, tainted by something that had never belonged in their galaxy. Shadows moved in the threshold, massive, snarling things hunched low and twitching.

Lorn exhaled once.

"Stay in formation. No one breaks."

Then he moved forward, golden light in the dark.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! Join~
Not Friends? Scary People
Objective: Protect All The People
Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

​

Cali handed out one of the modules to fit into a defense grid when an indistinct stir of noise caused her to straighten up. Wide-eyed peered in the direction of the commotion. It was a camp meant to keep people safe; she hoped all the negative vibes weren't converging or something and driving someone to do something naughty. Certainly felt like a giant spike of emotion radiating in the direction of the noise too.

Worse, people seemed to be surging. They were moving into the center of the camp... away from something.

A pink hand shot into her pile of goods to retrieve something as she spoke, "Get that device installed fast as you can." A slender device was drawn from the holster at her hit. Its color and accents gave a barrel-like appearance to it, but there was no where for a grip to attach to it -- if anything the seemingly absent grip was still in the holster with no signs of falling out. The top of the hidden saber popped off as her eyes lifted to the smith standing in front of her. "Hurry! The camp is depending on you. Go, go!" With a quick twist she removed one lens and installed another.

Fighting wasn't what she liked doing. Lots of Jedi would say the same, but it really was different for a Zeltron. Sith were usually the worst (but not always) because they were giant, knotted bundles of rage and hatred. She'd faced off with them a time or two, but Cali would happily avoid such things given the chance.

"Keep moving. That way," Cali hopped from one foot to the other between people, shouting for them to keep moving. They needed a flow. Just scattering all over the place was just slowing everyone down, which kept people in reach of...

Well, they weren't ghosts. That was both a relief and a disappointment. Who attacked a camp of unarmed people, honestly?

A translucent blue beam ignited from the saber just before Cali threw it toward the small band of thieves threatening the crowd. Probably trying to disperse them to find anything of valuable. Pointing guns at people was not okay even if they didn't meant to kill anyone; she wasn't going to wait to find out.

The saber passed through three of them before it boomeranged back into her grasp. The trio jerked and spasmed before they dropped to their knees; their weapons struck the ground before they did. Their eyes were wide as they teetered. They'd probably fall over in a second. Having your nerves shocked like that, even if only paralyzing everything below the sternum and elbow didn't leave a lot of options. They should be glad they had Cali to deal with and not--

"Jedi!"

Okay, hold up--

The characteristic wind up pitch of a thermal detonator filled the air and Cali's bright eyes found the bandit still standing with it held in their hand. A few of those in the camp were trapped nearby. Likely victims if that grenade went off.

"Don't suppose we can talk this out?" Yeah, the way he was smiling pretty much said 'no.' Now this was a pickle. Or was it a jam?

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian moved through the hall like he'd been born to occupy it, chin high, boots polished, flanked by just enough guards to remind everyone that House Veruna still meant something. Not an armed procession, no, this wasn't a battlefield. This was theater. And Aurelian Veruna never forgot his mark, nor the eyes watching from the wings.

The people gathered inside weren't nobles or dignitaries, but they were leaders in their own right - elders, elected representatives, scarred veterans of a planetary past that refused to sit still. Some still wore the insignia of the Galactic Alliance like a second skin. Others bore no allegiance, just wary glances and tired expectations.

Aurelian gave them a smile anyway. Not the practiced kind from Theed galas, but the one with a crack in it, the dangerous, wolfish grin that said yes, I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'm probably enjoying it more than I should.

"Senator Veruna." one of the local aides announced unnecessarily.

He waved off the formality with a smooth lift of his hand, silks shifting as he stepped forward. "Please." he said, voice warm and polished, Naboo accent honey-thick, "Aurelian. Titles get in the way of conversation."

He clasped hands, gripped shoulders, leaned in to listen with the intensity of someone who cared. Or at least, someone whose face wore concern like a perfectly fitted mask. But behind his dark brown eyes, there was calculation. He marked every accent, every hesitation, every little shift in posture when the name "Royal Republic" was uttered.

He found the village magistrate, a short, iron-spined woman with a prosthetic limb and the skeptical eyes of someone who had seen promises break like bones, and took both her hands in his.

"You've held your people together through things most worlds couldn't imagine." he said, his voice low but sure, like an oath in a candlelit chapel. "And now you're being asked to trust strangers again. I don't expect that to come easy. But I came here to make sure you're not alone in this."

The magistrate didn't answer right away. But she didn't pull her hands back either. Aurelian counted that as a win. A small one. But wins are built one nod at a time.

He moved on, speaking to engineers with grease on their collars, to farmers with data-tablets full of wilted crop projections. He listened. Or at least, appeared to listen with such conviction that it almost didn't matter if he was calculating policy shifts or daydreaming about his next suit fitting.

But this wasn't boredom. Not here. There was too much electricity in the air, both literal and metaphorical—for that.

He stopped near a flickering holoprojector where a relief worker was trying to show population displacement patterns. Aurelian tilted his head, brows drawn, and offered a comment that was half empathy, half tactical insight. The worker blinked at him like they hadn't expected the royal to have a brain, let alone use it.

Let them underestimate him. It made the teeth under the smile all the sharper.

By the time he looped back toward the center of the room, the air had changed. Not entirely, trust wasn't a switch, but enough. Postures were looser. Conversations grew less guarded. People were starting to believe that maybe someone had come not to take, but to build.

Aurelian let the hum of conversation fill the space behind him as he took a drink from a carved glass handed off by one of his guards, yes, of course it had the Veruna crest etched into it. Legacy was a performance, and Aurelian had learned to perform it flawlessly.

He took a sip, then turned, scanning the room with a small, private smile.

"Well," he murmured to no one in particular, "this might just work."

Sibylla Abrantes | Seth Denko | Raigryn Vayd​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

The mission to the Netherworld had likely already begun without any sort of formality.

From what she understood, it was a nightmarish place that held little love for anything beyond the twisted things that called such a place home. Distorting the memory, perception, and feelings of those that walked that hellscape. And even the age of those that trekked it. The nagging worry of that information in the back of her mind as her hands moved along the supply boxes and crates in preparation for distributing them among those that needed them.

A familiar motion that she had done already a handful of times as a full box of non-perishables was lifted with ease without a thought in her troubled mind.

One of the other hands helping them pausing to gape at the sight. Those around them needing at the least two rather hefty beings to handle such a thing as her mind drifted elsewhere. Absently moving things back and forth with her gaze focused well beyond those around them. At a point that might not have ever existed in this galaxy as the box was loaded onto the hover lift. The slim vehicle slightly dipping at the sudden weight until it leveled out as her body moved automatically. Her hands searching for the next thing to lift and move with the simple goal of moving this thing from point a to point b.

The monotony allowing her to drift in absent thoughts as she turned on her heel with another box of something in the heavy stack of the cargo bay to move elsewhere.

Her robes shed down to the base layers to keep from catching them beneath a box or someone's foot as she nudged something with her hands. Eyes fluttering as she finally looked around her at the sudden touch.

"O-Sorry. Did I bump you?"

Blaire Sal-Soren​

 

[Tasia Palpatine]

Carrying: Palpatine's Saber, Hunting gear, Kiffar Blade, Underwater breather
Wearing: Raiments of Shiraya
Tag: Cerys Dyn

Her blade hummed as Tasia and Cerys Dyn finally met at the archway and proceeded in on foot. She smiled at the togruta. Tasia was nervous but she let the force soothe her, as dark as the aura was here. "The location of the lead scientists is not far from here, I was expecting to meet more resistance already but." she gestured with her hands at the empty corridor in front of them. The dim lighting made it look eerily inviting. Her footsteps were quiet but she felt every one might be the one that set everything off.

"Did you hear that?" they had barely spoken, trying to remain quiet for the infiltration.

She went silent and there was a a few seconds of a low clicking noise. Then it happened again, then nothing.

"We aren't alone." she looked at the younger jedi then glanced at the corridor to one side that it sounded like the noise was coming from. She gently pulled the other blade from her back, her kiffar hunting sword.

"I believe we might soon meet the reason all the guards have left. It's hunting us." Tasia had hunted dangerous foes, and she had heard of the beasts that this dimension had in store, what had the scientists been doing down here.

The noise came again, louder this time and from the opposite corridor. Was it that fast or were there multiple foes? She couldn't be certain. Tasia noticed a scrape on the wall and she placed the back of her hand holding her kiffar blade on it. She was greeted by the image of something moving by it, something with thick leather scales and shards of what looked like metal spines on its back that snagged on the wall as it moved. It walked on six legs and she felt the creature trying to pull on her force presence even through her psychometry. Tasia removed her hand and readied herself, just as the clicks turned to a roar and the corridor was filled with the dinner plate sized maw of a charging beast. It ran on its back four legs and used its front two, equipped with massive claws like arms. The claws looked like they were iron with cortosis inclusions. These were deliberately made. They were jedi hunters.

Her first move was to try and let the beast past, moving aside and using her blade to block the tyrant claws that swept for her. She hoped it would have issues turning in this corridor and she could take it from behind. This did put it facing Cerys, but she had confidence in the girl's abilities.

​

]

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Aurelian Veruna

"Your presence honors us. Senator Sarn relayed that you will be taking point with discusssions in the town hall."

"Oh it honors no one," Raigryn mused. "In fact my second wife had a far less flattering way of describing my presence."

“My lord. I’d heard stories of your service. Didn’t expect to be stationed on the same soil, let alone same side of the lines. It’s an honor.”

A pause, then—just long enough to let the moment breathe before returning to duty.

“If there’s a civilian liaison or outpost leader who’s been on the fence, I’d be happy to speak with them directly. Pilot to pilot. Soldier to soldier. Sometimes titles get in the way of the truth.”

Raigryn would be slower to make light of someone directly respecting his military career. Every ranking officer was commissioned by the Queen. Respecting the career of an officer was to show respect for the choice of the Queen who served at that time.

"Talking directly to your counterparts sounds like an excellent idea," Raigryn said to Seth. "I was thinking of doing something similar."

By which he meant he would find men of a similar temperament in positions of power, get drunk, tell war stories and win them over the old fashioned way.

"I fact Lady Abrantes, why don't you lead the discussion when we head back?"

That way he could save his energy for schmoozing.

 

[Blaire Sal-Soren]

“I’m sending Bastila with you.” Briana had told her in a rushed tone that little time for argument as they were getting ready to part.

Blaire was headed to Vendaxa to act the humanitarian and provide what relief she could to the world as it was trapped in the midst of disaster.

Briana was headed for disaster itself and hopefully to Baryn, her son who has been missing since birth, stolen from her before she ever held him, his absence explained by her being lied too and told he was dead. She knew he was alive and soon she would hold him for the first time.

“Wait, why?” Blaire asked. There was a little room for argument after all.

“Vendaxa needs help, there are portals everywhere even there. Besides, it'll be good for us, the Sal-Sorens, to have some representation in the relief aid.”

Blaire cleared her throat and gestured toward herself like 'duh, Sal-Soren right here.'

“One of us who represents The Order.” Briana said clearly trying to get on her way. “If you don't want her with you..."

“Of course I would be happy to have Bastila with me,” Blaire said with a roll of her eyes. “Shiraya knows it’s been ages since we’ve spent any time together, I just… you know, the more Jedi looking for Baryn and Zeri…” she left it unsaid. What more was to say.

“There’s enough to worry about without me and Bran having to worry about Bast too. I need to know the two of you are safe and if you’re together that makes it easier. Can you just keep an eye on her for me?” Briana explained.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Blaire said softly, before uncharacteristically wrapping Bri in a big big hug. She tried to make it not seem like a ‘last time they would see each other kind of hug.’ “I know you’ll get them back.”

They separated. Briana off to be a hero, to slay the monsters and rescue those that needed saving and Blaire off to wait and watch and hope that the heroes succeeded.

---

“What the frell took you so long!” Dagos Terrek practically demanded when Blaire finally turned up to the landing pad where he kept his ship, a YT-2000 called The Old Girl.

"When are you getting your own starship?" Blaire asked. Dagos only kissed his teeth in response. Blaire smirked at him. She knew the question would bother the young Korunai pilot. Dagos was eighteen or near enough that it didn’t really matter. Dark skinned like most Korunai but with dazzling green eyes. Dagos was tall getting close to six feet and kept himself in good shape, even under his unusually common outfit you could tell he wasn’t a slouch when it came to fitness.

Blaire was used to seeing the young man in overly expensive, trendy fashion, from all over the galaxy. Usually he paid more attention to what was hot on Nar Shaddaa than most other places. Today however Dagos was dressed very utilitarian, almost military like, dark cargo pants, combat boots, a tucked white tee and a dark blue jacket over that.

This must be his work uniform

“What took so long?” He asked again. Much less demanding this time.

“Got new orders,” she told him. Dag got real interested at this bit of news. “My sister’s coming with us.”

“Feth, is Briana doing coming with us to Vendaxa? Isn’t she Grandmaster?”

“Other sister,”

“You have another sister?”

“Duh, and you’re gonna love her. She’s totally gorge. I mean she’s a Jedi now but other than that she’s totally perfect in every way!”

Dagos didn’t exactly turn red but Blaire could feel slight discomfort coming from him. She was aware of the attraction Dagos had for her but that was really just physical, Blaire was a Sal-Soren, it was a given for her to be stunning.

“I think you guys are around the same age, this could be a good chance for you to get to know Bast, who knows you could make a friend Dag, maybe something else.” She teased nudging her young pilot on the shoulder.

Dagos kissed his teeth again, like he would rather be talking about anything else. He truly was blushing now.

“I need you to go grab her.”

After some fashion Dag had arrived back with Bastila, the youngest of the Sal-Soren children. She looked unbearably uncomfortable and yet perfect at the time. Blaire really hated to admit it but maybe her family really were made to be Jedi.

Bast and Dag were still approaching when Blaire moved forward to meet them wrapping Bast in a quick hug.

“Shiraya’s breath it’s good to see you, Bastila. It’s been forever,” Blaire wove her arm through Bastila’s and the two of them walked toward the boarding ramp of the starship. “How have you been? Tell me everything.”

---

By the time they’d reached the designated LZ and taken a shuttle to ground zero of the relief effort, Blaire could tell that the two younger people with her didn’t have much interest in packing supply crates.

She couldn’t blame them. She didn’t want to be packing supply crates either but Blaire didn’t know how else to be useful. Bastila and Dagos on the other hand were Jedi, well, Bast was and Dagos had been once upon a time, they very likely had more to offer than packing supplies.

“You two,” Blaire said addressing her sister and her pilot. “By Shiraya do not make me regret what I’m going to say next,” she said that part more to herself than to them, sounding conspicuously like Daddy when she did. “You guys did a wonderful job escorting me to where I needed to be. I hereby give you leave to make yourselves useful elsewhere, just please please please don’t get yourselves or more importantly, me, in any trouble, okay?”

“Bet,” Dagos hardly let her finish speaking. He turned to Bastila and nodded his head away from where they currently were in a clear expression of “let’s get the hell out of here before she changes her mind.”

After losing her two tag-alongs Blaire went on into the cargo bay on her own, confident that if she couldn’t find a place to fit in she could easily be directed to one. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. She couldn’t say if it was the residual effect of her procedure on Epica or if Blaire was just becoming accustomed to the zeltronyness of her beloved cousin but almost immediately Blaire found Lossa amongst the crowd of various workers.

Several ‘excuses mes’ and ‘Pardons’ later Blaire had made her way to lend a helping hand to Lossa who it turned out wasn’t quite as attuned to Blaire as Blaire apparently was to her.

"O-Sorry. Did I bump you?"

“You did but I forgive you.” Blaire said, glad to be with Lossa not just for her cousin’s sake but her own. As far as Blaire knew Lossa was the only one who had quite the same personal stake in the outcome of what was happening in the Nether, though she was actually surprised to find Lossa on Vendaxa not burning her way through the Nether world.

“Would you like a hand?”

Lossa Aureus Briana Sal-Soren Bastila Sal-Soren

 

[Dagos Terrek]

“What the frell took you so long!” Dagos Terrek practically demanded when Blaire finally turned up to the landing pad where he kept his ship, a YT-2000 called The Old Girl.

Well, it wasn’t really his ship in the strict sense that Dagos didn’t actually own it. It was Joran’s ship, one of Joran’s ships. Dagos worked for Joran. Uh, Captain Joran Del-Finn. Or uh, Senator Captain Joran Del-Finn, actually.

“When are you going to get a starship of your own?” Blaire asked. Dagos only kissed his teeth in response. He hated when she did that chit. She knew that Joran had given him a job to take her to Vendaxa and make sure she was safe. she disappeared on him and now that she comes back and Dagos tries to assert any authority he might have she busts his balls.

Blaire smirked at him. She knew the question would bother the young Korunai pilot. Dagos was eighteen or near enough that it didn’t matter. Dark skinned like most Korunai but with dazzling green eyes. Dagos was tall, getting close to six feet and kept himself in good shape, even under his unusually common outfit you could tell he wasn’t a slouch when it came to fitness.

Dag was normally in some trendy chit. Trendy was another word for expensive but whatever, he had the credits and you couldn’t put a price on looking good. Today however Dagos was dressed very utilitarian, almost military like, dark cargo pants, combat boots, a tucked white tee and a dark blue jacket over that.

It was smart. He was going on a real relief mission, an official representative of Malastare and its Senator. Somehow Joran Del-Finn, smuggler, bounty hunter, barman, had become Senator of Malastare and now Dagos doubled as a cargo pilot for Fortune’s Favorite Shipping, Joran’s company, and as it turned out personal errand boy for chit Joran big timed his way out of doing himself.

“What took so long?” He asked again. Much less demanding this time.

“Got new orders,” she told him. Dag got real interested in this bit of news. “My sister’s coming with us.”

“Feth, is Briana doing coming with us to Vendaxa? Isn’t she Grandmaster?” Dagos knew Bri just a little. They hung around in the same circles a few years ago.

“Other sister,” Blaire said.

“You have another sister?”

Must not be a lot to do on Naboo.

“Duh, and you’re gonna love her. She’s totally gorge. I mean she’s a Jedi now but other than that she’s totally perfect in every way. I think you guys are around the same age, this could be a good chance for you to get to know Bast, who knows you could make a friend Dag, maybe something else.” She teased.

Dagos kissed his teeth again, like he would rather be talking about anything else. He hated when Blaire did this chit too. Teasing him like he was a kid.

“I need you to go grab her.”

---

Dagos went to where Blaire had told him to find her sister, Bastila. He said it a few times, practicing so it didn’t sound like his first time saying it when he finally did find her.

It didn’t take him long once he started looking. He spotted a Jedi chick who looked around his age, dressed like she was ready to take on the nether all alone.

“Bastila?” Dagos asked as he approached her.

Blaire wasn’t lying. She is smokin.

“I’m Dagos, I’m taking your sister Blaire to Vendaxa and you too, I guess.” He extended a hand. “Ship’s back this way. Wait till you see her, she’s great.”

The walk back to his ship wasn’t long but now that he’d found Bastila, Dagos could barely contain his excitement. He was going to fly his ship on a real mission, like save the galaxy type chit, chit he hadn’t done since leaving the Jedi.

“So, Blaire’s the only one who ain’t a Jedi huh?” He asked, attempting some small talk. “Must be wild.”

Dagos couldn’t imagine not being connected to what most of the galaxy referred to as The Force. Every Korunai could touch the force. Every single one.

“That’s a cool lightsaber,” he told her, now walking backwards through the shipyard, so he could look at her while they talked. “What color is it?”

Dagos never did end up making a lightsaber of his own.

Bastila and Dag were still approaching when Blaire moved forward to meet them, wrapping Bast in a quick hug.

“Shiraya’s breath it’s good to see you, Bastila. It’s been forever,” Blaire wove her arm through Bastila’s and the two of them walked toward the boarding ramp of the starship. “How have you been? Tell me everything.”

Dagos hadn’t slowed when Blaire reached them so he got to the ramp before they did.

“Ladies, this is The Old Girl, don’t be fooled, she might look like a rough ride but I promise you won’t find a smoother ride in the republic.”

Dag led them up the ramp.

---

The trip to Vendaxa was not a long one nor an eventful one. In Fact until they broke atmosphere Dag thought this was going a bit too smooth, ya know? That’s when he saw it, a few miles from where the base camp had been set up, a mile or more in the sky was crackling angry red fissure. A bloody tear in the sky.

“What the frell is that thing?” He asked without thinking.

“The Nether. A portal must be opening here.” Blaire said solemnly as they made their descent

“You two,” Blaire said, turning to Dag and Bastila. “By Shiraya do not make me regret what I’m going to say next,” she said, pausing for a breath before continuing. “You guys did a wonderful job escorting me to where I needed to be. I hereby give you leave to make yourselves useful elsewhere, just, please, please, please, don’t get yourselves or more importantly, me, in any trouble, okay?”

“Bet,” Dagos hardly let her finish speaking. He turned to Bastila and nodded his head clearly trying to say ‘let’s get the hell out of here before she changes her mind.’

“What do you wanna do?” Dagos asked Bastilia, unable to stop thinking of the Nether tear in the distance.

Bastila Sal-Soren

 

[Shinja Joka]

Shinja jumped through the air on his powerful Gungan legs and landed on the back of some beast. It had a large round, armored body, six powerful legs, a beaked muzzle with three large horns on its snout, and long eyestalks where ears would normally be. He had no idea if the creature had stumbled here from other world or lived here naturally. He grabbed the eyestalks and planted a foot firmly on its head, pointing the eyes forward. The beast began to run franticly, covering ground much quicker than Shinja could himself.

He aimed the beast towards the spire of the facility where the odd people held the balos. He gave it a nudge in the side to keep it running and leap off, summersaulting in the air, and landing back on it after it barreled through the wall fencing the complex. Shinja then rammed the nearest wall with the beast's armored skull. The creature (which Shinja was dubbing a nether rhino) was not able to burst through the facility wall like it did the perimeter wall, but it did still crack and crumble enough to leave an opening. The beast was reeling, and one of its horns had broken off. Shinja gave it a swift kick in the rear, and it streaked off into the complex, careening straight through shocked guards and scientists.

Shinja waved to them as he ran past. "It's been a while, but I'm back! Didja miss me?" Now, where were those mushrooms.

TAGS: OPEN
(Unsure who to tag specifically)​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

A smile shared to greet Blaire as her wandering thoughts began to gather themselves.

"Yes, actually. I'm," Her eyes moving past her cousin now to the hover-skid. "Fairly certain I might have moved the wrong stuff over."

Distracted actions making her effort possibly wasted as she examined the box in her hands.

"Not sure what I actually moved over here. I think. It was supposed to be foodstuffs?" A look to another helping them as they stared blankly in return.

Lossa nodded to the hover-skid in question as a few long moments later, and watching the gears turn in the others head, she got an answer. A soft hiss of air filling the air as the man grimaced.

"Actually I think that was supposed to be medical supplies. The uh." His gaze falling to the box in Lossa’s hands before he pointed to the one a handful of yards to the left of the one she had been loading. "The foodstuffs was that one. But, I'd double check that honestly. I'm. In charge of the building supplies."

"Feth. Thank you." Adjusting the box in her hands as she nodded towards the actual foodstuff hover-skid.

"Would you mind helping me sort those out? I can lift 'em." Moving towards the other skid and setting the box in its proper place before returning to Blaire once again.

"How are you doing by the way?"

Blaire Sal-Soren​

 

[Elias Edo]

-|| Location: The Facility, Netherworld
-|| Theme: The Normandy

“Do not resist, Subject Three,” the Unblessed scientist ordered. Despite it being a command that was laced with threats, the man’s voice was calm and composed. Even the cacophony of blasterfire and explosions didn’t sway his resolve. Elias, on the other hand, was a live wire.

He thrashed against the doctors, desperately trying to get himself free from their grasp. They were dragging him now, inching closer and closer to the horrible machine. What it did, Elias had no idea—but if it belonged to the New Way, it needed to be destroyed. He threw his body weight against one of the doctors, knocking the man to the side, but the butt of a blaster rifle struck Elias’ back before he could flee.

“It only hurts if you make it,” the scientist scolded. Another impact from the rifle brought Elias to his knees as pain jolted throughout his body. “Fuck… you…” he spat. It only made the Unblessed laugh.

A pair of sleek transparisteel doors slid open as they approached. On the other side was a large chamber housing a massive piece of technology—the machine. It was eerily reminiscent of a cryogenic pod laying horizontally. Both side sides of the pod were complemented by identical, though much smaller, pods. Upon seeing them, Elias had a terrible realization; Subjects One and Two were not Jedi like himself, but a pair of infant children.

A small, pink hand grasped the air above as a little Zeltron girl cried. On the other side, a human boy slightly younger did the same.

“You motherfuckers,” Elias growled. “I’ll kill you.”

“Perhaps,” the scientist mocked. “But not today. We have much grander plans for you.”

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Vendaxa
Capital Outskirts, Temporary Royal Republic Field Pavilion
Objective: Town Hall
Raigryn Vayd Seth Denko Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla managed a smile, inclining her head towards Padawan Seth Denko at his confirmation and offer of assistance.

"Then I am grateful for the news, although I hope that we will not need action beyond that of tempered tongues."

However, when she heard Senator @Ragryin Vayd 's encouragement to let her lead discussions, Sibylla gave only the subtlest perk of her brows. Ah, so he was letting her lead the discussion while he did his best, likely networking and making the rounds. She'd have to deal with the real concerns of the people instead.

"Of course, Senator Vayd, I am, of course, honored to oblige." Her tone was crisp with Nabooan charm, the sort that could cut without ever raising its voice.

Well, she was appointed to assist Senator Sarn as a Junior Senatorial Assistant. It's time for her to make her mark.

Sibylla turned, gesturing for the pair to continue into the Pavillon where the town hall was set. However, the moment she passed through the entrance, the energy shift was immediate.

Locals filled the space with wary postures and restless eyes, the low murmur of conversation rippling beneath the tension. The scent of rain soaked stone mixed with recycled air and nerves. She caught sight of the magistrate speaking with one of the Republic’s relief envoys, a tight cluster of security personnel lining the far corners of the room.

And then, him.

Senator Aurelian Veruna stood like the scene had been composed around him: effortless, poised, every angle perfected. The drape of his garments was deliberate, the etched Veruna crest on his glass just visible enough to be caught by the eye. And the smile -- oh, the smile was a diplomat's dagger. It flickered across his face like sunlight over shallow water, warm at a glance but far too easy to drown in if one wasn't careful. At almost six years her senior, his time and reputation at Theed's Royal Academy had its mark, as did his rise with House Veruna's sponsorship of Plooriod III and his subsequent election into the Senator's seat.

Sibylla's lips pursed ever so slightly.

Was he here under the guise of Internal Affairs or simply to assert his influence over another planetary fold-in? And had Senator Sarn truly believed this was the face to smooth fractures in trust?

Perhaps he wasn't wrong, she admitted inwardly. Aurelian Veruna could charm a planetary blockade into throwing a banquet.

Still, one must brace themselves when dancing with blades.

With a quiet inhale, Sibylla lifted her chin and approached, posture impeccable, each step precisely placed as though she moved to music only she could hear. When she arrived before him, she gave a slight nod, not too deep, never submissive, but respectful in the way one noble might acknowledge another they'd rather keep at arm's length.

"Senator Veruna," she greeted, her voice smooth as Nabooan silk, but her words carefully chosen. "A pleasure, as always. Though I confess, I hadn't expected your presence to grace so modest a setting. Are we to believe this visit is in your capacity as the Chair of Internal Affairs, or have we the distinct honor of Plooriod's personal envoy today?"

Her eyes sparkled, not with amusement, but with exactly the amount of wit one could get away with in polite company.