Saints and Sinners [Open to All]

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa could not shake the tension from her body. Dark circles had already manifested beneath her eyes after long hours spent with [member="Ilias Nytrau"] assisting with the efforts in Annaxes medical centres. For those few thousand that had managed to escape, there was help at hand, it was stretched thin, but it was there. For those remaining on Coruscant there was nothing but fear an uncertainty. That wasn't something Rosa was prepared to let continue, so in the hours she wasn't healing, she'd spent pouring over reports from the battle, that [member="Kiskla Grayson"] had provided her with, trying to paint a picture of what it was like, of what would be required to get onto the surface to give those they could a glimmer of hope.

On the odd occasion she did managed to shut her eyes, her dreams were haunted with pain, of dark images of Seroth being broken by face she didn't know, of him locked in a brass sarcophagus, all the while she could only pound her fists on the invisible barrier between them, her screams for him going unanswered. She had reached for him in the force, finding a flickering light but unable to ascertain whether he was in danger or whether she was simply dreaming. So she pressed on with her mission, contacted the Levantines and requested aid from those who could offer it and pulled together her plan.

The two Peregrine-class freighters had been gutted of all their fighters, the combined cargo holds stacked with 300,000 tons of supplies, weapons, rations, medicines anything they could cram into them that could be of use, was crammed in. With [member="Jorus Merrill"] and[member="Turin Val Kur"] at the helms of the ships, and [member="Nohemi Allaneh"] providing them with a cloak making them blind too all sensors as well as the force sensitive, Rosa was confident that they would get to the surface without incident. Once they were there though? They had no idea what to expect.

Standing on the bridge of the peregrine piloted by Jorus, Rosa stared unseeing at the white lines that were hyperspace. With every parsec that brought them closer, she felt the fear from Coruscant with increased clarity, battering at her defences like a relentless storm. Tired eyes slid shut for a moment as she did what she could to repair the cracks in her barriers against the torrent of emotions. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled, letting go of what she could as she did and opening her eyes to look at the countdown to reverting to real space.

Two minutes.

She reached out to nudge Nohemi in the force, warning her they were almost there before opening a channel to the rest of the group. "Two minutes till Coruscant, Force be with you all." She had nothing in terms of a speech to offer. The tension in the crew increased tenfold and Rosa held her breath as the lines dissolved into stars and she found herself staring at a barricade of Imperial ships stretching as far as the eye could see. Their angular forms all but concealed Coruscant's surface from view. It would be like navigating a mine field, but she had faith in the pilots.

[member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Flynn Blackheart"] [member="Darron Wraith"] [member="Marakai Al'Orren"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Thurion had answered the call for help, just as he had in his youth when assisting Nar Shaddaa in aiding the wounded and homeless refugees. This time he did so just as readily as he had back then. There were people from both the Jedi Order as well as his friends from the Levantine Sanctum joining forces to ease the suffering of those caught in the crossfire. He had done what he could during the invasion by the Sith forces, evacuating and tending the injuries of younglings and civilians alike. He'd even aided a pregnant woman in giving birth that very same day. Needless to say, it was a busy day.

He was travelling on the same vessel as [member="Rosa Mazhar"], who he had considered a good friend for many years since he and Asha arrived on Teth during the formation of the Silent Conclave. She supported him on his master's funeral, and he in turn had supported her during her marriage to Seroth. Now he was stood beside her as she hailed the others wishing them 'good luck', and he could feel her distress over what might happen once they set foot on Coruscant, which was now in the possession of the Sith. An unimaginable fact, just as it was when word reached him that Republic forces had taken Korriban and the Mandalorians had seized Dromund Kaas many months ago.

Once Rosa had spoken, he was there at her side to offer a hand upon her shoulder for comfort. This would not be easy for any of them.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Standing behind [member="Jorus Merrill"], Sarge folded his arms over his broad chest which caused his duster to adjust itself over his shoulders accordingly. Coruscant wasn't a battle he'd been present for; it was foolish to think a soldier would be able to make every battle in a war, and Sarge simply hadn't been in the right place at the right time.

So far as most of the Jedi were concerned... the Sith had still only been a threat from the other side of Mandalorian space. But they hadn't prepared for a take from the opposite direction; a direction near enough Fringe space he'd almost gone to find Ashin to figure out what the kark was going on.

But this was the Senates fault. They'd hounded and badgered the Jedi, drumming it into the heads of half the Order and the Republic itself that the Jedi were a warmongering lot. Look what that had gotten them - a world of a trillion under the rule of the Sith.

Sodding idiots.

Adjusting the slugthrower pistol in a holster on his thigh, the curiously armored Jedi cracked his neck audibly, black lenses igniting red as he activated his HUD as they'd dropped from Hyperspace.

...how in the kark was their fleet this big. This made literally no sense.

To say he was taken aback was putting it lightly.

They'd thought the Mandalorians had been their next opponent. They had been so, so wrong.

It was with these thoughts in mind that he'd dressed as he had. Should he feel the need to stay behind and coordinate a resistance effort he wanted to look the part of a resistance fighter. Not a Jedi.

He'd rather draw attention to himself for being an officer than being a Jedi. With that in mind, too, he'd suppressed his Force Signature the moment they'd snapped back to realspace. He'd be karked if some Apprentice on a ship out there somehow managed to single him out from all this background noise of teeming life and fear.

And he'd be karked if that was going to ruin their mission.

He couldn't do anything until they landed, so he absently flexed his crushgaunt covered hands along the grip and barrel of his scattergun.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Rosa Mazhar"]
One meditating Fallanassi waif priestess stood between him and a really brutal death. A metric fethton of people -- good people, but a pound of feathers weighed no more than a pound of lead -- were crowded onto his bridge. Dead ahead waited a traitor Jedi Master and a being deadly enough that a raft of Sith Masters, including some with legitimate claims to the title of Dark Lord of th Sith, had bowed a collective knee.

A droplet of sweat parted company with his nose.

"So let me get this straight." Of his preferred ways to relax, lum was not available, nor was his wife. "Side A tarred the whole Order with the Halcyon brush. Side B got dragged into defensive apologetics and schismatic apostasy. And both sides of the tape were betamax -- obsolete and way out of touch."

The Fallanassi-cloaked freighter slipped into Coruscant's atmosphere slowly enough that reentry contrails would not be, as it were, a thing. "Noooobody saw this coming, except for everyone who was laughing at the most powerful government in the galaxy. Jedi lesson number one: Focus too far inward and you lose your bearings." He snorted. "One thing the Order got right, back in the day.

"Y'know, we disbanded the Rebel Alliance because the Republic finally started doing things. Looking at this, I'm thinkin' it might be time to break out the rolodex again."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"Nah, everyone saw it coming. Just not from this direction and not on this scale. I don't think anyone saw the scale. But you're more or less right - with one caveat. Incompetent leaders. I'm not saying they were bad, or couldn't eventually become good...

But for the most part, they were delusional at best and dismal at worst. Too much talk, not enough action. Then, when the action came, everyone blew a gasket." The helmeted man said, snorting derisively.

"Ya might be right, Jorus. Problem with any big body is that without effective leadership, the factions become a bit too powerful and things go the way of the handbasket. Shame, that."

 

[Antares]

Imperial Palace
Underground Hideout.

Jedi Knight Antares Windu remained upon the planet of Coruscant. There were still people to save on the planet, and his moral colde prevented him from leaving the planet. He was still in Manarai Heights, but he wasn't atop of the wall anymore, no, he had left his position there a long time ago, when he had been going to the Jedi Temple but had gotten sidetracked.

He didn't know what happened to the Silver Jedi, [member="Sochi Ru"] and [member="Aika Kawakami"], but he had gone to the Imperial Palace. It was only a few miles away, and he set up there. After gathering a few dozen Republic soldiers and hundreds of civilians, Antares Windu had gotten them to dig down and remain hidden in the Imperial Palace. They went as deep as they could go below the surface, it would be harder for sensors to locate them that way. But it seemed like the Sith weren't upon the planet to just eradicate every person, but he still concealed his force signature completely and boosted the morale of everyone that he came into contact with. There were few things for him to do, and there hadn't been any sign of any other Jedi in the area, or relief forces in the sky.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Rosa Mazhar"] [member="Nohemi Allaneh"] [member="Turin Val Kur"] [member="Marakai Al'Orren"] [member="Darron Wraith"] [member="Antares Windu"]
[member="Sarge Potteiger"] got a grunt of affirmation. "Yeah, you'd know a bit better than me. Tale as old as time. There's never been an organization so perfect that a dick or a doornob couldn't feth it up."

The cloaked Peregrine-class heavy freighter inscribed a slow arc over The Works, a region of partially-abandoned factories, hundreds of kilometres wide. "Probably the only decent place to land a ship this size and deploy all those automated cargo speeders. That's the best way to do it, far as I'm concerned. I'm kinda hoping the glowstick brigade, present company excepted, doesn't Set Out For Justice. This'd be a bad place to pay the mortality bill. In general, all I ask is, if you or your people have got loud business to be done, take a speeder bike or something, get a hundred klicks away, and then right some wrongs. Or, as an old sergeant of mine put it most poetically, 'Where thou dost eat, dare not to s-'"

He broke off as a Sith patrol flight zipped past, unaware of them but too close for comfort.

"The sooner we're out of here, the better."

 

[Adonari Cinn]

His body stood rigid under his black robes. Could everyone else feel the tension. Breathing slowly was all he knew to do to calm himself. The call had been so sudden though the masses that had been left bellow needed their help. Each and everyone one of the members on the ship knew the price they were asking to pay. Getting planet side was going to be far from easy but entirely necessary.​

He broke off as a Sith patrol flight zipped past, unaware of them but too close for comfort. ​

The man close to A'donari stopped talking abruptly as everyone held their breath at how close of a call it had been. Luckily his force signature had been concealed and the Force had been on their side. A soft rhythmic thought played in his head.​

'Please just get planet side, Just get planet side.'​

[member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Antares Windu"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"], [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], [member="Rosa Mazhar"]​

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

Half lidded eyes told of the deep concentration the Fallanassi adept was utilizing to manipulate the currents of the Force, cloaking the ship and her inhabitants from the might of the Sith Fleet.

To think that such a waif of a young woman stood between them and certain death was a hard pill to swallow. A heavy responsibility; one that the Fallanassi was willing to take.

Nohemi Amaya Sophia Van Dara Allaneh, of the Order of the White Current; a grand name for someone so delicate looking. She sat in deep meditation, the thin veined lids barely registering ocular movement behind them, imagining the ship to be just like a rock within a flowing river that simply had to be smoothed over and condensed into a smaller and smaller space.

A fine sheen of sweat would make her skin give off a light glow, her chest rising and falling in a slow and deep steady rhythm. Each had a role to play. A part.

This was hers.

 

[The Bounteous Hunt]

"Hush children." The sweet, young voice rang out to a small congregation of children, hidden away underneath a building. "Rest your heads, you needn't worry long. They are close now, soon we will not be here. Have any of you ever flown in hyperspace!" Her eyes widened at the suggestion, every bit of excited as... the children should have been. Many did not stir, all of them scarred at the loss of their caretakers, and death that surrounded their loss. Oh the vile things that razed and burned the blocks once owned by Blake Sheen, a murderer who had exploited her innocent abilities to get rich with her fortune telling prowess, and nabbing blackmail on his enemies in the underworld.

He was still here, among the congregation. But he was injured... out cold. She had warned him not to close his eyes for too long, or he might never open them again. It would seem he didn't listen very well, and now that was a very real possibility. Did she morn him? Morn who? She would say in response. Poor, poor girl.

"Well then, all of you stay here! I'm going out to say hello, and I'll lead them here for you all." She nodded and promptly left the congregation. The 12 year old girl, just as quickly forgot all of them. Like a dandelion seed flying in the wind, the delicate child pounced around the wreckage of the street. The sith patrols were few around here, and she knew the way around them. She could see where they would go while seeing in the not-yet, and could see where they were not while seeing in the now.

She innately knew just exactly where her soon-friends would materialize, where they would appear to her for support. Though, perhaps not first, she would wait all the same for them. She hid without hiding, in the plainest of sight, yet no one maligned would see her... not unless there was a purpose in their meeting. Only then would they see her where no others would.

 

[Darth Isolda]

C͉̤̤o̰̠m̫͖̤̲͉͢ͅe̪̠̘͉͔͠ ̺̭̬̹͞ͅͅl̨̼̘̱͖͔̭i̴͉̥t̢͈ṯ̮̬̰̭ͅl̞̣̥̫̖̯̫e͇͎̬͞ ̞̫̪̤͙ͅO̠̥̩̦̕ŕa͖̯̹c͚̳̹͕̞͕͔͠l̬̖e̲̖̩̮͖̰.̳̭̬̮̗̥̹

͉̫͇͖̙͡ ̧̫̯ ̤̗̤͕̰͠ ̙̯͢ ̟ ͝ ̬͍ ҉̥͈ ҉̯̱̘̳͓̲̳ ̳͇ ̞ W̴͙̗͓̣̱ͅͅh͎͘í̝̼̮̜͙s̶̹̝̙̳p̜̬e̝͉̣̫̼̰̤r ͉̳̺̹͘m҉͎͕e̟̻̮ ͎̱̹t̜̻͈͉h̖̗̣̫͎͖̯i̲̥n̢͚̝ͅę̬̞̥ ͙̗͈̥̭̦͢f͈̻̳̼̺͈at̮̞̲̜͡e̯͕̲̙.̨ ̶̻̦̺͈͚̥̖
̲͝

Words would rustle like leaves sifting in the breeze. Images. Voices. Truth.


War...


Yesssssssss................


Come...

Closer.

Spoiler

[member="Sybil Manneseh"]

 

[The Hound]

At the helm of such a large ship Turin felt surprisingly at ease. He had felt the loss during the initial assault and he still had nightmares about the screams and cries for help, the burning corp-

That's enough. He reminded himself, a bead of sweat making its way down his jaw.

He needed to concentrate. Not only was his massive freighter full to the brim with medical supplies, food, and personnel to distribute them, but he was one of two and if he did something, anything to distract his fellow pilot or maybe ram into an unaware Sith patrol, thank you Nohemi, the entire operation would be torn apart and to be honest, not everyone on board could fight off a Sith, and none of the people who could would be willing to let them fall by their red blades.

His blue eyes fell to his lightsabers for a moment. He hoped he didn't need them.

͉̫͇͖̙͡ ̧̫̯ ̤̗̤͕̰͠ ̙̯͢ ̟ ͝ ̬͍ ҉̥͈ ҉̯̱̘̳͓̲̳ ̳͇ ̞ W̴͙̗͓̣̱ͅͅh͎͘í̝̼̮̜͙s̶̹̝̙̳p̜̬e̝͉̣̫̼̰̤r ͉̳̺̹͘m҉͎͕e̟̻̮ ͎̱̹t̜̻͈͉h̖̗̣̫͎͖̯i̲̥n̢͚̝ͅę̬̞̥ ͙̗͈̥̭̦͢f͈̻̳̼̺͈at̮̞̲̜͡e̯͕̲̙.̨ ̶̻̦̺͈͚̥̖
̲͝


Come...

The words slithered through his skull, a high pitched wail ringing in his ear. It felt as if something was at the base of his skull, scratching, tickling the back of his brain. Orange crept into his eyes as he was thrown into darkness. At the end, a pair of piercing red eyes. A familiar voice reached out to him, "Come little Val Kur..." Why couldn't he find the name to match the voice he was hearing?

A red blade erupted into existence.

Come!

He felt as if he was thrown back into his seat. They were nearly there...
@Everyone

 

[The Bounteous Hunt]

[member="Darth Isolda"]

"Oh." The girl stood, like a soldier at attention. Looking to the stars and shifting slightly back and forth... looking directly at a thing that was invisible to everyone else... merely because she knew what it held and where it would be. In all truth, she didn't truly "see" the thing, but she was aware to such a degree her face turned just so that it would be in her vision if it were visible. Her brow furrowed at the unpleasant thing that called itself Isolda.

How vile... how obsessive. She loved yet did not. Disappointing. Did she remember her? Perhaps, perhaps not. Again, all meetings with the Little Oracle had purpose... if there was no purpose you did not meet her. She shook her head in grief for a soon-not-friend, both for success and for failure. So many paths into the river-ocean of time, and she like all was but a stone riding upon its surface, observing the crests to wash over her. She was different though... oh so different.

Her thoughts were filled with one word in response to the assault of the person.

"No."​

She said aloud. Confident. Commanding. Definite. A breeze washed over her. It was harsh and not endearing, but she regarded it with the love a grieving mother. She could not blame it... it had been so tortured for so long... or did its suffering just begin? It troubled her as it always did that she could not know.

 

[Adonari Cinn]

Staring strait forward. That's what A'donari had lossed himself within. The Growing planet of Coruscant, his home, thrived continuously. How had things of such horror come to pass? Just days ago A'donari was teaching younglings and helping guide the youth towards a greater good. Now the reality he believed in had been shattered.​

​

A whisper touched the back of his skull ripping him back to consciousness. ​

​

Lights that made up the planet surface faded into rhythmic reds and oranges behind a black landscape. The fires were burning and war was only beginning!​

The whispers grew louder. Echoing over and over and over before erupting in his mind. Screams of a woman.​

'Were they hers or someone else's?' a question he would never know the answer to.​

​

Gripping the railing and calling upon the peace was enough to give him control of his mind again before he closed his eye lids and breathed deeply. Calmly.​

A thought ran through his mind as he opened his eyes to see the planets surface had returned to normal.​

The Sith were preparing to burn the Galaxy to the ground.​

[member="Sybil Manneseh"], [member="Turin Val Kur"], [member="Darth Isolda"], [member="Nohemi Allaneh"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Antares Windu"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"], [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], [member="Rosa Mazhar"]​

 

[Marcus Tritum]

I stood in the middle of rubble specked with bodies, or maybe bodies specked with rubble. Lotta vics. Hard to tell what's what in the mess. Sitting on a box in the middle of it all I stared out at the shell-shocked planet. A sigh escaped my lips, I removed my helmet and let it fall with a solid thud. Air. Sweet air. I drank it in and almost puked.

The battlefield smelled like crap, burnt flesh and rotting corpses. War isn't pretty. You think walking through a field of dead guys, bodies torn open by bolts of searing hot plasma is cute? People shad themselves when they die. Doesn't smell like glory to me. Just smells like shad. It's all fun and games until you get a first hand experience. If the sight of charred remains and splintered pieces of indistinguishable pink, red and white that used to be a living, breathing person don't do it the smell sure as fidk will.

Gloved, trembling fingers found their way to my sweat-soaked hair. My hand came away slick with perspiration. I needed this... needed to smell the carnage. I'd been part of what made this happen and you could bet to the nine realms of Horr I was having second thoughts. A lump in my throat made swallowing hard.

"Dead Stars," I swore softly, taking my head in my hands.

I'd just helped the stanging Sith conquer Coruscant.

The smell and the violence, the exhaustion and the pain all finally got to me. In dented black and grey armor, I leaned over my knees and wretched. Nobody so much as looked at me. Sith didn't really care so much about personnel morale. Not that I was one of them anyway. I was just waiting for my shuttle ride out of here and back to the Fringe. I needed to get off this fidkavk rock. I needed to get off it bad.

[member="Darth Isolda"] @Jorus Merill [member="Rosa Mazhar"] [member="Turin Val Kur"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Her hand slid ovee Thurion's and she offered him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. "I'm alright." She replied softly, paying little attention to the conversation between Jorus and the Jedi Master. Smoke still rose from the urban scape in places, filling the sky with a dark haze. Her ears pricked up at the mention of justice and she tore her eyes from a toppled skyscraper to look at the pair. She had some faith in those that had joined to not jeopardise this mission.

"You should probably know, I have no idea how we're going to get out of here. We could go the way we came I but somehow I--" she stopped feeling the shift in @A'donari Cinn 's composure, she watched him carefully for a moment before continuing, "I don't think it will work twice."

She ran her eyes over the Works and nodded finally. It was as good a place as any. "Lets get this done as quickly as we can." She lifted her eyes to Sarge. "If any of you need to get to the temple, there is an underground route through the Works. You might be able to salvage something. I'll head down to thw cargo hold and get people organised."

She moved from the cramped bridge, finding it easier to build up her barriers when she couldn't see the destruction before her. Whatever she felt, whatever she was worried about, this mission needed her full focus, so she pushed it all aside as she headed thtough the shio, ready to open the cargo bay doors the moment they touched down.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Thurion Heavenshield"]

 

[The Bounteous Hunt]

Sybil began to hum a happy tune.

The atrocities of war that had been throw into her mind were just as soon forgotten, leaving no impact upon the girl. It wasn't manipulation if the power of suggestion was against her morality... which was a child's of course. A child doesn't want to destroy the stars, or rule over others with fear. She was a child and would do childish things... like standing in the middle of an abandoned street after sith occupancy while humming without any intention of muffling it or hiding at all in general.

She was not afraid. How could she be? She was a child who had no memory, and an intricate knowledge of the future. She had a safety like no other: she had the potential to be useful. She knew manipulation against her would come, but she knew that she would be protected. Ultimately, she knew the end result, and that there were probably better ways of approaching that result, but even subtle changes like that have severe consequences later. The best and possibly only solution was to...

Hum.

Spoiler

[member="Rosa Mazhar"], [member="Dak Canton"], [member="Adonari Cinn"], [member="Turin Val Kur"], [member="Darth Isolda"], [member="Nohemi Allaneh"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Antares Windu"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"], [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], @Sybil Menneseh,

 

[Darth Banshee]

Darth Banshee was in the republic banks, she currently liberating ex-politicians hard cash. To be honest anyone who still help funding the republic, she wanted their money and assets. It was nothing more than major asset stripping of them. She planned to manufacture a mini boom for locals. She also planned to show how she got cash to make the poor that bit richer.
She waited for the press to arrive, before she broke into the vaults of the biggest bank on the planet. As they gathered she marched in with full holo tv crew, with different news agencies filming her every move. The bank manger objected, but her guards just hustled him to one side. He should known better than to stop her, he was not going to be punished though. As to do so would only make planet hate their new masters, and that some thing she was keen to not let happen. She had over recent days, got power back up and got the planet working again.
She reached the bank vaults and then turned to the cameras and made a speech Dear people of Coruscant, your old master did not care for you. They where only interested in lining their own pockets. Well money is not my vice, family is! To that end I intend to make jobs, manufacturing base that all our subjects can work in. Also be paid not a basic wage, but an actual living wage. As our power grows, you will reap the benefit of this too. With that she turned to vault, she closed her eyes and felt through the force the hinges. She could feel the micro cracks in it, where the stress off being opened and shut have happened over the years. Then she she felt her anger for jedi and turned it on those hinges. She was using the force to crack the hinges, as it did the vault door fell with bang. Showing untold wealth of the hyper rich of this world to see. She turned back to the camera This wealth will be used to fund companies, to rebuild and revitalize this planet people. I shall create jobs with it, we shall build with it, we shall take it from your old corrupt leaders and help you with it! As she finished talking to cameras, her troops marched in seized these assets, owned by any the planets top one percent or politicians. This holo news was being beamed across the planet for all the populace to see, how the other half lived.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

The vessel settled into safe harbor, one of the hundreds of immense nooks and crannies that characterized the Works. Shaking his head, Jorus rose.

"All right, folks. Like I said, keep your noisemaking away from here if you can. I've got business in the better part of town, but I'll have my comm on me. Stay in touch."

He'd staged some fantastic heists in the past, and been part of others. Worlds full of cortosis and phrik. The largest, most powerful starship in the galaxy. All manner of things that needed removing for the greater good, or for profit, to feed the mouths that relied on him. But it had been a good long while since he'd set himself to the task of saving a soul, or connected ethics with a heist of this nature.

The Jedi Temple had kept the majority of its holocrons and Force artifacts in three major vaults in the basement, and those had been thoroughly cleared out during the One Sith invasion. Not to mention the whole area was secured, locked down, Sith and droids everywhere. But not everything had been kept in those vaults, and not everything had been taken -- so his source said, and his source was a good one. When Darron Wraith had collapsed the temple, it had apparently kept the Sith from finding a very small, very secure emergency drop vault buried miles beneath and beside the Jedi Temple. Grandmaster-level clearance had kept it, and other things, secret for a good while; fundamentally, it was a contingency plan. Emergency beckoned, and these items had been sent down a long secret diagonal drop. The vault held three items of staggering rarity, items that had saved souls before. Maybe, just maybe, if his excellent source was right -- former Grandmaster-level clearance and a Force vision to boot -- these three items of staggering rarity would make it to safety today. And maybe, just maybe, they would be enough to do what Jorus needed them to do. Wraith had meant to secure them, but hadn't managed it in the chaos. The walls and tunnels of the Works' foundations blurred past Jorus' swoop bike, going six hundred kilometres per hour through uncharted and forgotten industrialization. Arguably the best pilot in the galaxy with the Force on his side, taozin amulet around his neck, he blitzed for the general region of the Jedi Temple's foundations.

At those speeds, flying by the same instinct that had taken him across the universe and even outside the galaxy a few times, faster than any hyperdrive had ever gone, he made it to his destination in an hour and a half. Not a long flight, not even with the normal, significant, and widely varying obstructions of the ecumenopolis -- not when his custom was to spend days controlling his hyperspace trajectory manually. The swoop decelerated and slipped into an aeons-old subway tunnel, then rose through a collapsed roof just before running headlong into a blockage. He settled the swoop into a derelict station; his boots hit grimy permacrete, and time distilled down to its normal passage for the stationary. This was the land of perpetual gloom, slime molds, hawkbats, cthons.

And secret passageways.

A certain wall with a certain faded gang sign proved unusually difficult to focus on, exactly as expected. He rested his hand against slimy permacrete and found slimy phrik instead. A recessed keypad took a sixteen-digit code, and a blast door slid beneath his hand, though the wall looked just the same. With a grimace, he stepped through the permanent White Current illusion and into a tunnel. A second door awaited him; that one took a second sixteen-digit code, a blood sample, and a Force detector reading. It verified his midi-chlorian count -- fething Jedi elitists -- as well as the general blueness of his aura, and that door, too, hissed aside.

Leaving Jorus Quentin Merrill, tramp freighter pilot and career Rebel, in a small phrik chamber with Tionne's holocron, the holocron of Vodo-Siosk Baas, and the Great Holocron. The holocrons were contained in repulsorpods that had been affixed by secret droid protocols, shortly before said pods had gone down the long, long chutes that terminated here. Far above and away, the temple's collapse had destroyed all evidence that the secret chutes existed. Leave it to paranoiacs like Watts and Olra'en -- but this vault had been commissioned by [member="Darron Wraith"], come to think of it. In any case, staring at the holocrons, limited as his senses were in this kind of task and setting, he still felt something...appealing from them. Not like they were any good to him at all, of course. He'd tried Jedi training, failed miserably. His skills lay elsewhere. But still, the three crystalline boxes relaxed him.

Slinging his Mandalorian shell gun over his shoulder -- he'd clutched the shotgun in a deathgrip from station to blast door -- he unfolded a densely padded, nullification-resin-lined, ridged bag with memory-foam presets inside. The three holocrons fit perfectly inside the memory-foam cutouts; one more reminder, if he needed it, that his sources were very good at what they did, or had gotten very lucky. But their luck and expertise had nothing to do with the task of the moment, which was to zip up the bag, heft the shotgun, close the doors, and slink back through the undercity. Instinct guided his footfalls; he made it back in one piece. And then it was only a matter of getting back on the swoop. Six hundred kilometres an hour through the undercity, off in a whole other direction, took him to the outskirts of level 1313, where every trash spacer worth his salt had a little flat or bunk, same as Nar Shaddaa. Only once he'd found an unnoticeable little hideyhole in 1313, the swoop practically within arms' reach near a long fall, did he allow himself to acknowledge what he'd done. The Jedi had failed to evacuate these three holocrons, despite Wraith's best efforts; the One Sith would believe them taken along with all the rest, by Circe Savan and Ashe the Reaper.

In due course, he moved on, submerging himself in the web of gritty, difficult life that was 1313. He blended in; this kind of place was home, whether it was on Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant or Metellos or Trevel'ka or Denon. Soon enough, he vanished into the anonymity of a million men just like him, plus the nullification resin and taozin amulet to remove all Force presence from himself or his shoulder bag. He faded from everything and went about his business.

There were souls to save.

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

All the while, Nohemi sat in deep meditation, that fine sheen of sweat forming over her brow. It was quite the feat to sustain, as well as draining. But she had to preserver.

Delicately she kept manipulating the currents of the Force around the ship, weaving that illusion like a weaver with her knitting setter, enveloping the ship with the flowing strands of the Force into a free flowing river.

A darkness threatened outside threatened to distract her, but she maintained the course.

Just a bit longer.