Mission Shatterpoint | Resolution

[Amani Serys]

“Hey.” She replied back, giving Iris that same veneered smile. “You okay?” It was always easier to focus on everyone else’s problems over her own. But neither were doing a great job of hiding the pain, internal or external. Amani was still dotted with bandages and stitchings of her own, and the rings under her eyes were dark enough they could be mistaken for a fresh set of mirialan tattoos. And yet looking at all the anguish around them, it still felt like she got off easy.

Around then a particular stench hit her nose, and with it a familiar ex-Sithspawn. Drunk. Very. The pull at her lips immediately gave way to a much more honest frown, “Kai.” She spoke dully, her dissatisfaction in his choice quite apparent. At least, to more sober attendees, it would be. “What are you doing?”

Iris Arani | Kai Bamarri | OBJ 1​

 

[Kai Bamarri]

Kai was lucky he had his telepathy, because his speech most likely would’ve been slurred. Not that his thoughts were much more organized.

<There’s a mobile bar down that a-way.> He pointed in the vague direction of the Philosopher. <And I didn’t think it was a good idea to give out free liquor to a bunch of shell-sh—>

He hiccuped, an experience that was new and startling for him. For several seconds he just sat there wide-eyed, his fingers bunching up around the blades of grass, as a series of hiccups came and went.

<...shell-shocked, angry survivors. So I drank it all! At least, I think I got most of it…>

He wasn’t dead of alcohol poisoning simply by virtue of having used the Force to cure the poison. It's just that there was a lot.

<When I don’t agree with something, I do something about it.>

He attempted to wink, succeeded only in making his eye twitch, then let his head rest on the ground.

Iris Arani Amani Serys Jasper Kai'el​

 

[Alicio Organa]

TYTHON
TEMPORARY REFUGEE CAMP
INTERACTING WITH: Inanna Harth
TAGS: Vooltroo - Kai Bamarri - Amani Serys - Jasper Kai'el - Iris Arani ​

With Tython's people burnt and battered around him, Alicio found it exceedingly difficult to keep a hopeful disposition. Each one held a tale of tragedy behind their eyes, etched out in scars both visible and invisible. The Count worked with refugees regularly, but he had never been on the front lines of a disaster like this before. It was harrowing.

But he continued to smile warmly at every person he passed off a care package to. In a place like this, smiles were in short supply. Hope was a valuable commodity.

Alicio would happily give all of his away.

So engrossed was Alicio in his work, in the people directly in front of him, that he didn't notice Inanna's presence until she spoke up. He turned quickly, cape whipping around his ankles. "Inanna! Hello!" He offered up one more smile. "Any help you can spare."

The noble turned his attention to the crate at his side, filled to the brim with packs. He plucked one out, and passed it to the Shi'ido. "I'd appreciate the extra hands. And the company."

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Tython Refugee Camp
Tags: Kai Bamarri , Amani Serys , Iris Arani , Alicio Organa , Inanna Harth , ect...​

Jasper had done his best to ensure that nothing got out of hand as to not bother the efforts of volunteers. Guests had a strict two drink limit, and the exile did his best to ensure that the potency of the drinks was diluted to not risk anything. Before long, his bar was flooded with the chatter of refugees, filling the vessel with laughing, crying, and singing. It wasn't really about the drinks anyways. What these people needed was a social gathering spot that wasn't some worn down tent or battle-weary clearing. As he tended to guests, ensuring that none drank an unhealthy amount, a little boy had wandered in and sat down at the counter.

"Can I have one?" the boy naively asked.

"Hold on now," Jasper told him, "This is a little bit much for you, my friend."

Jasper retrieved a pouch of juice from behind his bar. He always had something for patrons who didn't like alcohol. He handed the juice to the boy, also placing a few credits in his hand.

"Here you are, little dude," Jasper said with a warm smile (or at least the best he could muster). "And take those credits to your mother, okay?"

"Y-yes sir!" the child nodded, as if he had been handed a lottery ticket.

Jasper sighed as the little boy ran off. He almost rarely had money. Those credits would barely buy a meal. Unfortunately, Jasper didn't have much more. Still, he had to hope that it could at least bring people some hope. He had to stay positive. The exile turned back and assessed his storage. Strangely, he noticed that there was significantly less alcohol than he had brought. There was no way he had given out that much. He had ensured that every patron had received only two drinks to ensure there was no rampant intoxication. Hadn't he?

"I hope that's not a bad sign," Jasper mused to himself under his breath.

 

[Inanna Harth]

​

Inanna was surprised by how happy Alicio was to see her. "I came here to collect an old friend," she said. "What was left of him, anyway. He's not very good company anymore, so might as well hang out with you." A bit of gallows humor, sure, but that was nothing new from her.

Turning her attention to the crate, she started to pass the packs out to the refugees, taking note as she did of the types of people in line. There were more bandaged and sad-faced children and youths than she would've preferred to see under these circumstances. It reminded her of the refugee camp on Erakhis, though it wasn't as large and overpopulated. Not yet, anyway.

An idea started to form in her mind, a way to make the work less monotonous. She picked up a care package and gave it a brief once-over. The supplies were sealed in a container made from a material that was lightweight, durable, and flexible. It was designed in such a way that it probably could've survived a bombing, let alone being accidentally dropped on the ground.

When the next child reached her, she held the pack up. "Do you think you can catch it?"

The kid blinked in confusion, but held up his hands as if to catch a thrown ball. Inanna tossed it, saw immediately that he wasn't going to be able to catch it, and gave the pack a slight nudge with the Force. He got it.

Another small one eventually arrived, this one a girl even younger and, she figured, more likely to be impressed by a show of "magic". "Catch," Inanna said, then released the package, letting it float in midair.

The girl stared at it with wide eyes, hesitant to reach for it. The people behind her didn't have a chance to complain, since Inanna continued to hand out the supplies even as the girl worked up the courage to pluck hers down.

"So," Inanna glanced at Alicio, still keeping the package afloat in her periphery. "How have you been?"

Alicio Organa​

 

[Wedge Draav]

Did we win?

​

After circling the wreckage of his crashed gunship for a while, expanding the search ring, he eventually found Rev- crouched over a dead Alliance Marine. He took a deep breath after Rev turned to face him.

"If we hadn't gotten intercepted by the fighters-"

Rev looked around, then stopped after Wedge put a hand on his shoulder. Rev wiped tears from his eyes, standing up weakly. Rev had a splint along his leg, the first thing that Wedge noticed upon noticing him rising to his feet.

"Tython stands, Rev."

He nodded.

"Barely. Find any other wreckage from Razor?" He shook his head to answer his co-pilot's question. Rev reached out for Wedge to pick him up. "Let's go grab the down kit and get moving- better to be amongst friends." He wrapped Rev's arm around his shoulder, and began to walk back to the aircraft. He plucked both "down kits"- backpacks with three days worth of supplies, a blaster carbine, and a knife. Rev left his carbine there, and Wedge and him set off to find more Alliance- anyone, friendly, really. He'd even take NIO troops at this point.

---------------------

They'd be walking for a while now, unable to find anyone alive. Plenty of dead soldiers. Too many dead. Then- movement. But not the kind that he wished to see. A fireteam sized element of Mawite soldiers, equally disheveled and broken. They were simply walking along, wounded just as Rev and Wedge were. An acolyte led them, wounded as they were- but atuned with the force, he seemed more stable than they were. He was feeding off of the destruction and the misery, but he was barely keeping himself together thanks to his wounds.

Wedge and Rev hastily took cover in one of the many cuts into the planet's surface, forcing their heads into the mud. Wedge readied the carbine as they walked nearer, the Acolyte sensing their presence. Wedge readied his weapon, lying on his back, breathing hastily as he waited for the Acolyte to cross the threshold of the foxhole.

It occurred within seconds. Just a black mask appearing, looking down at the pair of pilots, scared for their lives. Wedge and the Acolyte stared at each other. This close, he could see him more clearly. He was pale, and had blue eyes. And they widened with fear. Wedge's hands were shaking when he and the Acolyte stared at each other.

"It's over for us man- just let us go."

They both had the same thought. Neither wanted the conflict anymore, truthfully. But each had the same idea of the other relaying information about survivors. The idea of being captured or executed on the battlefield floated both in Wedge's and the Acolyte's mind. The Acolyte had not readied his blade- he was too weak to put up a fight like he had before. Wedge breathed raggedly, pushing Rev gently away, the carbine shakily pointing at the Mawite.

"This is far from over for us."

The other three soldiers with them, out of the three, only one could fully fight. The other two had broken limbs and burns, broken armor and broken spirits. A tense silence fell over everyone.

"Just put down the lightsaber and go on, man. We don't need to die here."

No response. He saw his eyes. Panicked. Fearful. Weighing his options. He turned to look back at the soldiers, who were in the same boat as everyone else. Rev sunk further into the hole, unable to brace himself with his lower body any longer, letting out a curse. The Acolyte, taking it as a sign of action, went for his blade.

Wedge screamed out in pain, right before shooting him three times in the chest. The Mawite fell back into the dirt and mud, staring up at the sky, barely alive. The last thing he saw in his short life, cut short by the ambitions of the Sith Lords, was a burning sky. He thought of him, he thought of his family, the ones he neglected, and all the things he didn't love enough and those who he didn't tell he loved more. Wedge screamed an obscenity, before turning the weapon to the other three soldiers.

The only fighting capable one looked at the dead Mawite, then Wedge- then dropped his rifle, tossing it to the ground. The other two simply stared. Wedge pointed the carbine at them, then gestured with the barrel for them to keep going. He didn't want to take them prisoner. He didn't want to kill them. They just wanted to go home. Wedge just wanted to go home too.

He watched them walk away, sulking. The death of one of their compatriots didn't phase them- they suffered enough for ten lifetimes in the span of a few hours. None of their friends were alive. None of their families knew if they lived or died, and possibly wouldn't. They faced execution in their minds for their failure, yet, consumed by duty, they were determined to return, even in defeat.

Wedge didn't want to take that from them, and didn't want to take their lives.

He turned down to Rev, who was sweating more than he was before.

"I'm sorry Wedge- I didn't mean to-" Wedge picked Rev up by the arm, grunting as he dragged him out of the hole. "I know, man. It's okay. You didn't mean to,. Let's go. We gotta keep moving." They began their long walk again, unsure of where to go- but it couldn't have been where they were. They both silently hoped their nightmare would end soon. The Alliance had won, right? And they were coming back for everyone, right?

If anyone was left to come for them. Wedge's eyes didn't deceive him. If this was what winning looked like- he wondered what defeat could've been like.

The pilots continued to walk, stepping over dead fathers and dead sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters. Children, husbands, wives, cousins, uncles, and aunts. Null-Hockey fans, Shockboxing fans, sports fans of every make. Mechanics, teachers, farmers before war consumed their lives. Nothing left but their corporeal form.

The Maw's aggression was like a fire- burning, and all-consuming. Wedge wanted to hate them, as they kept walking. Wedge wanted to hate them for what they did, for what they caused. But the more he looked at the number of dead Sith and Mawite soldiers, and all the creatures they brought with them, the more he felt pity. Someday, he could hate them, but for now- he just wanted to keep walking, to find some semblance of a friendly face.


The pilots pushed on, alone on a tattered world.

​

 

[Phylis Alince]

Caltin Vanagor + anyone who wants to communicate
Near the Forge

Phylis' ship passed through the wreckage of the space battle. So many ships had been destroyed, with an especially high toll taken upon fighters. Large salvage ships were already starting the clear up the mess.

She passed over the wreckage of battle and destruction. She would go to the aid stations soon, but for now she was looking especially at one location; the Forge. This place, renowned in ancient myth as the place where the Jedi had once made their Lightsabres. Now it was a place of study and contemplation.

Or it had been.

As the ship came in to land Phylis exited out into a landscape marked by war. However the scene she witnessed was truly baffling and disturbing.

The Forge was gone. She'd followed this path many times before through Old Kaleth and knew this was the place. But stranger was that it hadn't been blasted as if by a turbolaser or proton bomb. The who area was...gone.

"Uhh...well. Hmm. Six-Nine...run a scan please. This is where the Forge should be, right?"

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Location: Tython
Objective: Humanitarian relief
Tags: OPEN feel free to place yourself on Islas ship with her

Spoiler: Fleet Assets

2 x Dragoon Class Battle Carrier
Geiseric's Blade
Lurrite Countess
5 x Bastion Planetary Invasion Ship
Harbinger of Light
Bogans Demise
Temple of Peace
Ashla Ascendant
Keeper of Truth
2 x Templar Class Star Destroyer
Spirit of Bosph
Champion

4 x Dominion Class Escort Frigate
2 x Principality Class corvette

Even split complements of
Pegasus Interceptor Starfighters
Phoenix Multirole Starfighter

Numerous
Ashla's Mercy orbital insertion shield generators

Infantry available
Ashlan Marines
Sisters of Ashla

Spoiler: Isla's Personal Gear

Admiral's Sabre
Ashlan Rosary
Personal guard of Ashlan Praetorian droids
Overseer Biochip OPBC-01a

With the withdrawal of the Mawite Invasion force, most of the Ashlan naval assets had too been withdrawn from the system, the badly damaged Ashla's Might would likely be in dry dock for a year or more, so the Grand Admiral had transfered her flag to the Geiseric's Blade for the time being. The rest of this mission was now one of mercy, two more Bastion vessels had arrived from the Fourth Fleet, undamaged and unladen with Invasion forces, they were now on the surface acting as both bases and hospitals for the surrounding areas. The star destroyer sized landers were perfect for this mission, of the other three landers already in position on the surface of Tython, Bogans Demise had taken significant damage and its military complement had been severly battered, this ship would be unlikely to be much use in the humanitarian work, but the other two were now taking on casualties from far and wide.

The rest of the Fourth Fleet would be arriving withing a day or two, bringining with them the lions share of the Ashlan relief units. Isla had also called in support from the Kobitana Foundation, but as a purely civilian organisation, they were being used very carefully. Isla looked at herself in the reflection opposite her, did she look older? She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The Crusade demanded so much from her and the galaxy never stood still. Isla knew she was up to the task, but that urge to just call it a day and live out her life in the relative peace of Lur was always there.

Her biochip alerted her that final estimates of Ashlan casualties had been received, she looked at the figures in front of her, it was dreadful, but actually not as bad as she had feared at least it was only six figures. "wow!" she said to herself, remarking on her ability to take solace in the fact that they hadn't quite breached the one million casualty mark. She shook her head and walked towards the bridge, the Sister's of Ashla were doing a wonderful job on the planet aiding people, and gathering people who wished to leave into the lander vessels, Isla had estimated she could extract around three million civilians with the assets she had stationed, and maybe another four million more once the rest of the Fourth Fleet and the Kobitana Foundation arrived.

Isla had put in an application to the office of Chancellor Aerarii Tithe To be able to offer any civilians Ashlan Citizenship and a new home in Ashlan space. Ashlan territory was underpopulated and there was more than enough space for displaced citizens, and if she was completely honest, a large influx of citizens and potential tax payers would not hurt the budget concerns. The minister of Finance had already expressed an intent that taxes may have to increaae in Ashlan space in order to fund the continued war effort, and Tython had cost so much. She hated thinking like a bean counter, but those were the realities she had to face now.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

”Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people's thinking.”- Steve Jobs​

He had done this walk hundreds of times in the past. Even if only going to visit the site, but usually because he had something to work on in regards to his lightsaber. Though it was the traditional pilgrimage for Jedi to go and construct their iconic weapon, the Forge had all been mothballed centuries before he himself was Knighted. Sure there were some (like him) who still believed in the traditions, it made them feel… whole… but others just saw it as tiresome and unnecessary.

It was their loss.

The walk was up the steps of what was once the Temple of Knowledge and along the Tho Yor pass into the cave was often a time he spent remembering his first trip up this walk. That was an exciting day, just the thought of becoming a part of something so exponentially bigger than he was. It was such an honor to eventually not just walk these steps that day, but to maybe be one step closer to becoming one of those lucky enough to bear the legendary title of “Jedi Knight.”

That was another time though as right now the walk was just evidence of what had happened here not that long ago. Such destruction, such anguish and outright desperation, the walk this time served to give him little more than “pause” if anything. It was a shame really, they had “won” the day but seemed to have “lost” the month. So to speak.

Tythos Ridge alone should have been a view for the ages, full of splendor and serene natural beauty, but now it was… well… it was something else.

Paying little mind to the other Jedi who were already standing there, Caltin let her go about her business as he stood and looked over what was once a beautiful waterfall, just shaking his head. After a few moments, noticing that she seemed a little confused, he decided to fish for a little information.

I’m glad the place held up.

Location: On the walk to The Forge

Allies: Phylis Alince / Mishel / Anyone else

Anyone that wants to converse!/ TEAM LIGHTSIDE!

Spoiler: Personal effects

"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)
HK-88 Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt
Starship: Spectre, (Jedi Interceptor in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)
Sanctuary Island

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Tython
Objective: Talk with Master Valery
Tags: Valery Noble
"Post theme: Roses For The Dead - Funeral For A Friend"

"It's going well, Master Valery. The doctors have said I should be fine for now, as long as I don't put too much stress on my ribs, they'll need a bit more to recover"

Silas looked back to Valery with a small smile as they moved away from the ruined temple. It was no lie to say the structure was already broken down before the battle, but after the conflict had ended, the once great spiritual place was no longer recognisable. Whatever was left standing had caved in on itself from a mixture of falling rocks from Ashla and his battle with the Sith from inside, there was nothing but rubble in its place now.

The temple was likely not the only place beyond disrepair, and that thought alone brought realisation of how much destructive victory the Maw had achieved even in their loss.

"For now, but I'm unsure how far I can go before I get to the point of damaging them through my own means," he said back to her calmly as two hands went behind his back. As he mentioned before, the medical team had told him to take it easy and do nothing too extreme. Some fight was plausible, yet anything along the line of his battle with the Sith was surely going to cross that line "I remember Kahlil Noble saying he fought a Sith, I presume you were there with him. correct?" the boy asked curiously as he examined Valery for any physical damage, to which there was none "Anyone like you who got out unscathed was certainly blessed that day"

Walking along, Valery took note of how everything changed and it was safe to say she was right. Silas had never seen so much destruction to the point of reshaping the very means of a planet. It was going to take a generation to bring it back to its former glory, even then it wouldn't be the same. Coming to a stop, he looked into the horizon and sighed a frown forming in his mouth.

"You're right Master, and all we can do is roll with it for now. Even though we won at a cost, we must be fortunate our loved ones are still alive and safe. With them, we can strive to pick up the pieces and create a better future for the ones after us" He said to Valery with a somewhat sorrowful smile, a wince forcing its way through his calm composure.

 

[Alicio Organa]

TYTHON
TEMPORARY REFUGEE CAMP
INTERACTING WITH: Inanna Harth ​

Alicio mouth twisted into a frown as Inanna produced her dark joke. He was far too sympathetic to find death anything but horrendous, but he also knew that people coped with the concept in their own ways. He responded with a far less cheer than before. "I hope your friend has found somewhere better now."

He wasn't sure if he believed in any kind of afterlife, but at least for today, he could try.

He continued passing out supplies alongside the Shi'ido, giving each pair of reaching hands a meaningful look and words of encouragement. But as he did, he noticed out of the corner of his eye... a floating package. Mystified young ones.

The Count felt his heart warm. He stopped what he was doing for a moment, drinking in the scene, until an older woman cleared her throat in front of him. He started, apologized, and passed along a pack to her.

"I manage," the Alderaanian said in response to Inanna, passing off one last parcel before giving her his partially-divided attention. "Trying to find ways to make myself useful. I've had... a bit more free time recently. Might as well make the best of it."

Most people wouldn't consider organizing a refugee transfer a good use of 'free time', but Alicio could think of no better way to spend his. "And yourself? Keeping busy?"

 

[Inanna Harth]

​

Usually Inanna made her jokes without caring how others reacted to them, letting any disparaging or offended comments roll off her back. But as Alicio quietly offered his condolences, she paused and looked at him. "He believed in reincarnation, as many Shi'ido do," she said. "I'd like to think he found some form of rebirth after death."

She continued with her magic tricks, sending one little boy chasing his flying package across the yard. Turning the relief efforts into a game was a spur of the moment idea, and it seemed to be quite successful with the children. Some of the adults watched from afar, if not entertained by the antics, then at least distracted from their woes.

Alicio admitted to spending his free time doing volunteer work. She was familiar with that mentality, but she also knew from experience how unhealthy it could become. Still, she wasn't about to try and stop him. Not after seeing how bad things were, and how much help was needed. "Well, as long as you aren't working day and night, in sickness and in health, with no time for rest in between..."

He asked if she was keeping busy. She shrugged. "You could say that. I fought in a battle recently. It was Jedi against Sith. We were on the Jedi side, of course." Inanna spoke of these events as if she were describing afternoon tea, but the casual tone was a front. Her eyes told a different story. "I ran into my old master on the battlefield. She tried to kill me, I tried to kill her, neither of us succeeded. Rinse and repeat..."

She trailed off as the smallest refugee she'd seen yet trudged up to the front of the line. The kid's head didn't even clear the edge of the table. Inanna glanced up at the old man standing behind them and asked, "Is this one yours?"

He shook his head. She handed him a package, then leaned toward the child. It was hard to tell whether they were a boy or a girl, bundled up as they were, but she thought maybe it was a boy. "Where are your parents?"

She received no response. "Did you come here alone?" Still nothing. His silence wasn't a good sign, though it was possible he was just shy. Possible, but she knew better than to assume the best. "What's your name?"

Rather than answer, the kid lifted an arm and pointed to the box of packages, then patted his mouth with his hand. Ah, that she understood. "You can't just wander around the camp by yourself," she said, handing him a package and then shooing him over to one side, where there was a chair to sit on. If a relative came looking for him, that was fine. Otherwise... she'd figure out where to send him when they were done here.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He could sense them, hear the blood pumping through their veins. Once He had been able to smell the sweat on their skin, taste the perspiration on His tongue as it was carried by the wind. Those senses have dulled to near nothing now, only His sight and hearing remained operational. In time, they would pass as well, as would be the fate of the curse that afflicted His existence. But through the power of the Wellspring, He could finally correct His error and restore Himself. It was now only a matter of means, getting to the Wellspring would be exceedingly difficult.

But He was confident that He would prevail.

Looking back to the suits of flesh and blood, He could see that they were just beyond the treeline. Alliance soldiers had erected campsites to house the wounded and weary. They believed their numbers would give them strength, that it would save them from the darkness. But the darkness could not be held at bay by mere torchlight, no matter how luminous. He was the darkness in the heart of men, their most deplorable impulses made manifest. So long as the whisper of hate existed in their hearts, He would never truly die.

He watched from the edge of the forest, unnatural sight allowing Him to see far more than anyone should have been capable of. The patience of His youth as an Imperial Agent allowed Him to quiet His body, to stand so still that one could have mistaken Him for a statue if they had not known He drew breath. He reached out with one hand, the power of the Dark Side flowing through Him as the shadow beneath His feet stretched past its natural margins. The shadow hand continued to pass along the ground, blending into the gloom that enveloped the entire world.

As it reached one of the sentries standing guard at the camp's perimeter, it passed over the shadow cast by the man's head. There was a shudder and the guard's body seized, then his knees gave out, and he tumbled to the ground. A large portion of his head was now missing. There was no blood, no gore, nothing to indicate that he had been struck, only a vacant emptiness where part of his head had once been. The hand continued, catching the next sentry just as unawares as the first, and so he too suffered the same fate. The shadow passed through the outer edges of the camp, moving from shadow to shadow, leaving a silent trail of death in its wake.

More and more.

Unceasing.

Unending.

Iris Arani | Amani Serys | Kai Bamarri ​

 

[Ishida Ashina]

GRATEFUL LIGHT
BYOO | TYTHON | EN ROUTE TO HALL OF THE SUN
THE HIGHEST TRIBUTE TO THE DEAD
IS NOT GRIEF
BUT GRATITUDE
Bernard | CLOSED

Serve them, lead them. A true leader serves first. My last lesson to you... Lord of Light.

Even though the battle was over, the moment had passed, reflection still stung as strongly as when she’d first felt his passing.

You will lead them, but I got my eyes on you. I will make sure you will do us all proud and then some."

The ring Sardun had left to Ishida was more than just an accessory. It was metal in the shape of responsibility and expectation. A world of heroes bound to Sardun’s zealous cause, now without a commander.

Ishida had always been comfortable with the idea of inheritance. She’d been born into it, bred for it. Everything about the Ashina Clan was about legacy, protecting myths about oneself and the family, and prolonging the name. But what Sardun left with her was so much more — it was about a cause.

What’s more, she hadn’t tried the ring on yet. She’d only cracked open the box Vilchis had given her, peeked inside, and closed it. She kept the box on her person at all times, but she had yet to touch the metal within — but she was growing less resistant to its lure.

And while she hadn’t admitted anything, she was mildly distressed about it all. Expectation she was used to, responsibility too. But commanding a legion? She was not. And it was keeping her up at night.

She wiped at her lashes and sunk deeper into the passenger’s seat and close her eyes.

When she opened them again, it was maybe a minute or so later. The readouts from the dashboard had hardly made any advancement. They were barely closer to The Hall of The Sun. But, still within Tython’s atmosphere; and if they peered through the glasteel hard enough, they could see the sprawl of devastation below.

Storms still raged in pockets in the sky. The ground was torn asunder. The balance that could often be felt here was outrageously tipped, dipping one way and then the next every so often.

She smoothed her hands over the box, drew in a breath, and deflected her own silence to a projection toward the pilot: “You’ve hardly said a word since we left Coruscant.”

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Tython Refugee Camp
Tags: Kai Bamarri , Amani Serys , Iris Arani , Alicio Organa , Inanna Harth , Darth Carnifex , ect...​

A shudder ran down Jasper's spine. Death. It was fresh and seeming to grow, more so than one might expect from wounded refugees succumbing to their ailments. Jasper usually struggled to feel the things around him, but not death. There was a unique feeling that was made by those who became one with the force that Jasper had become familiar with over his travels. Whatever was causing this was strong... And dark. Terribly dark. The bartender sealed the door to his alcohol storage before calmly turning and grabbing a glass. He tapped against the side of it to gather the attention of his patrons.

"Something terrible is happening," he admitted to them. "I fear we may be in danger... Is anyone here a pilot?"

One man stepped forward, an older Umbaran.

"Everyone, stay in my ship and remain calm," the exile told them. "I'm gonna step out and see what I can do. Pilot, if things go bad out there, I need you to get these people to safety. Leave Tython if you have to."

Jasper rushed to the cockpit of the Philosopher, connecting his coms to all open channels.

"This is the Philosopher calling to all nearby Galactic Alliance vessels. There is a Sith presence drawing towards my location. The refugees here are in grave danger. Assistance is required immediately. I repeat, the refugees are in danger."

Jasper turned back, passing through the bar and stepping off the ship, signaling for the patrons to close the door behind him. To his surprise, the exile heard no screams. There was no stench of fresh blood or panicking civilians. All he could feel was the cold sensation of death, a feeling that was gradually increasing. Jasper was beginning to realize that there was something out there beyond his understanding.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He had come to pay his respects.

No more, no less. And he was doing so by lending aid where he could. Merchants, smugglers, mercenaries, many good-hearted people whom the Knight Errant had helped in the past and had favours owed to him by were called to the Core, bringing aid in the forms of food, materials, travel off-world and protecting the innocent during the time in which they were most vulnerable.

It was the least he could do. Even now, hooded and hidden in the refugee camp, his identity hidden from all observers, their gazes telling them nothing except that he was genuinely here to help. A bit unfair to be using such a technique on people, but he would rather not be recognised right now. The simple fact that he had not contributed to the fight, not been here to help these people when they needed him most filled him with a shame so intense he didn't know it was possible to feel such a way.

They deserved better than that.

Letting out a sigh, still in his meditative position on a crate near the edge of camp, Aaran wrestled with his own feelings, reminding himself that despite not being here, the defenders of Tython still won, the ritual was stopped, the Maw was pushed back. Making the assumption that his presence would have any impact on this conflict was simply arrogance, an attempt by his mind to process the loss.

But knowing something logically and then processing it emotionally were two very different things.

Sadly, his musing were cut short as a shadow passed over the edge of his senses. The collapsing of a guard something passed through them.

As in, right through them, judging by the empty space where their head used to be. Whatever this shadow was, it was cutting through their bodies like a knife through butter.

He shouldn't have been too surprised at this, the Sith were notoriously sore losers, this attack either a scavenger looking to replenish themselves. Funny how for all their claims of strength, they had to go to such lengths to recover, whereas Aaran was perfectly capable of matching most Sith in the Galaxy and all he needed to recover from a tiring fight were some energy bars and a nap. Bacta as well if he was feeling indulgent.

As the shadow continued to creep towards another unsuspecting guard, Aaran moved, seizing the potential victim by the collar and yanking them out of the way of the all-consuming darkness. His own foot lashing out to stomp down on the shadow, aiming to hold in place by seizing it with the Force, using his own body as a conduit. His own mastery of the Force rendering him resistant to any attempts to cleave through his body like it did the others. The most it would do was make his foot feel vaguely uncomfortable, like he had just stepped into something foul.

"As quietly as you can, alert whoever is in charge. I'll deal with this, but there's no need to start a panic." He said, tone soothing to the now somwhat panicked guard who was noticing the decapitated corpses of their comrades. "And best have someone get the bodies out of sight." The former battlemaster added on as an afterthought. before directing the rest of his attention on the tendril of shadow.

The funny thing about shadows was that they were connected to something, merely the absence of light caused by an object. Mystically speaking, shadows were always connected to what cast it.

So all someone with supernatural forms of perception had to do was follow that connection and find the source. His own senses expanded as he followed the trail back to its creator. A frown appeared on his features as he recognised the presence.

"You'd think the dog would have the dignity to follow its master into death." The Jedi mused, hand reaching to his saber, focusing his intent as a glorious blade of silver flame erupted from the end, not the traditional blade of plasma, but instead a sword of purifying fire.

Quickly plunging the blade downwards, he would direct the consecrated energy, seeking to take advantage of the link between shadow and that which cast it in order to send a surge of cleansing energies right at the source.

He doubted it would be enough to kill the fallen emperor, but in their weakened state, it would certainly sting and by following the trail, the Jedi would see where Carnifex was hiding.

Darth Carnifex Kai Bamarri Jasper Kai'el Iris Arani Amani Serys

 

[FN-999]

Objective: Lament (BYOO)
Open to Interaction

N I N E S

A single starfighter descended upon the ruined world.
​

Legion Commander FN-999 sat anxiously inside the cockpit, his concentration committed exclusively to the controls of the vessel and the sky in front of him. He was by no means a flying ace, and he struggled to keep his bearing as the bulky vessel swayed from side to side. After his recent promotion to his current rank, FN-999 had been given a spaceflight license and instructed to practice flying small spacecraft. His superiors had claimed that since he was now a senior officer, he would have a much larger target on his back than ever before. Consequently, being able to fly personal spacecraft would be crucial to escape failed battles and determined assassins alike.

FN-999 respected his superiors' mindset, but absolutely loathed piloting.

The sensation of going hundreds of kilometers per hour, knowing that a single nudge in the wrong direction could tear a wing off or worse, was quite frankly terrifying. FN-999 liked things he could calculate, control, and determine with at least some degree of accuracy. However, there were so many factors at play in atmospheres in particular that he could never quite make a perfect flight. He was sure that with more practice, he could one day come to be reasonably skilled at spaceflight and possibly even come to like it. But he still had a long way to go.

Fortunately, it gave him just the excuse he needed to arrive at the world he so urgently needed to visit.

In the upper atmosphere kilometers above him, several more TIEs piloted by genuine pilots circled stealthily, ready to descend at a moment's notice. It had been one of the conditions for him to "practice flight" in Tython, his seniors knowing all too well that he was entering the ashes of a warzone. Still, it was better than having them on his six, and he did admit that he felt slightly more secure.

Still, he had taken precautions.

As the ruined landscape of the continent of Talss came into finer view, he veered gently leftward, lowering his speed and thus the noise the TIE's engine produced. With the assistance of the onboard navigation computer, FN-999 located the site of a vast plain containing an abandoned New Imperial trench line, scarred and filled with countless craters. Scanning the ground from a kilometer up, the legion commander settled on landing in a relatively flat and undisturbed area of grass near the wreckage of a large artillery cannon.

The landing was rougher than he would have liked to admit, but the TIE remained completely operational.

He eagerly unstrapped himself, replaced his pilot's helmet with the helmet of his stormtrooper armor, and reached down into the crate he had stashed in the back of his cockpit. Inside, he pulled out his trademark sword, a carbine rifle with extra mags, a pistol sidearm, and a leather cloak. Once he had fitted his weapons to the belt and back plate of his stormtrooper armor, he cloaked himself, completely concealing his identity as a stormtrooper to the naked eye. With his preparations complete, he reached up, unlocked the cockpit, and climbed out of his TIE.

It was the first breath of smoky air that brought FN-999 back to the past.

30 MINUTES PRIOR TO THE BATTLE OF TYTHON
INCEPTUS-CLASS ASSAULT SHIP "PROGENITOR"​

"Sir, we're detecting a large gravity shadow directly ahead." called a bridge officer.

"Are you 100 percent sure?" asked the ship's captain. "Emperor Fel himself is leading this invasion force. If we fail to deliver the 908th in time, it could cost us not only the battle, but our lives."

"I understand that as much as you do." replied the officer. "However, if we stay in hyperspace any longer, we'll smash into the shadow and then we're all dead anyways."

"Very well." grumbled the captain. "Alert the crew. We're exiting hyperspace."

The bridge officer gave a quick salute and ran off, relaying the order. Soon afterwards, the captain activated his intercom, and the loudspeakers built into the walls of the ship came to life.

[Attention, all personnel. This is your captain speaking. We are performing an emergency exit from hyperspace due to the unexpected presence of a gravity shadow. Man your stations and prepare for the worst.]

Red emergency lights blared as Progenitor lurched from side to side, beginning the transition back to realspace.

"Do you think this could be a Maw interdictor?" asked the bridge officer, who had returned to the captain's side.

"It's extremely unlikely." replied the captain. "As far as the ISB is aware, the Maw doesn't have interdiction technology. Still, let's err on the side of caution. Prepare to send a distress signal as soon as we revert to realspace."

"Yes, sir!"

With a blinding flash, the cruiser exited hyperspace.

About thirty kilometers in front of the vessel was a large asteroid, perhaps fifty kilometers in diameter. Evidently, it had been the object whose gravity shadow had pulled Progenitor out of the void. However, the puzzling fact about it all was that the hyperlane the cruiser had taken didn't pass through any asteroid fields. The chance of such a large asteroid being conveniently in Progenitor's path in the middle of the void, light-years from any system, was close to zero. Consequently, the only realistic explanation was that the asteroid had been pushed into the cruiser's path.

Surely enough, Progenitor was immediately contacted by an unknown vessel.

"Let the transmission through." ordered the captain.

[Greetings, this is Captain Jalkat. Surrender your ship and everything inside to us and we'll spare your lives. You have ten seconds to answer, no funny business. We've got you surrounded.]

Pirates.

Surely enough, five heavily armed corvettes of obscure design appeared on the cruiser's radar, encircling it.

[We surrender. Board our ship as you please.]

[Oh, we will. Move your ship or any of its weapons an inch and we'll blast your bridge to shreds.]

With that final warning, the line of communication was cut.

Immediately, there were cries of outrage.

"Why are we surrendering to pirates?"

"We can outshoot them without blinking an eye!"

"What will the Emperor say?"

"Quiet, please." ordered the captain sternly. "No matter how we go about this, it is extremely unlikely that we will make it to Tython in time to be of any use in the battle. However, we can still exploit this situation to the best of our ability. Onboard this cruiser is one of the finest legions in the Empire. All we need to do is position them exactly where the pirates are boarding, and then they won't stand a chance. Then, they can play pirate themselves, swarming through the boarding docks and adding the riches of the pirates to our war chest. In a way, we'll still be helping the Imperial cause."

It was a sound argument, and most of the bridge staff came to accept that.

"I'll relay the order to Nines. Let's do our best to make sure he succeeds."

Several hours later, the 908th Legion had indeed succeeded.
​

The pirates, numbering only a few hundred and exceedingly overconfident, had been steamrolled by the veteran stormtroopers of the 908th, of whom not a single trooper had been killed. Some had managed to flee back to their ships and turned their guns on Progenitor for retribution, but its deflector shields held for long enough for stormtroopers to kill the gunners. After about an hour of fighting, Captain Jalkat was found hiding in the vents of his flagship and brought into Progenitor for interrogation. He revealed that he had been hired by Mawite agents to intercept vessels travelling to Tython, though he had been expecting to raid frigates rather than an assault cruiser. Nonetheless, his intel would prove useful in understanding Mawite strategy.

For the next hour, the 908th brought back dozens of tons worth of technology, scrap metal, and credits from the pirate ships, neatly boxing them all in the cruiser's cargo hold.

For an hour after that, Progenitor maneuvered away from the asteroid and began a sublight journey out of its gravitational field. By then, the mood had grown more somber as the ship's crew and the 908th alike remembered that they were unable to help their brethren on Tython, who were likely locked in brutal battles at the moment. From the ship's comms, reports came in about heavy casualties at Tython, of desperate movements and multi-sided conflict. After a few minutes of this, a bridge officer turned off the comms. The captain didn't stop her.

The news of Rurik Fel's death hit like a ton of bricks.

Even with the comms disabled, the news had come through as an emergency transmission.

The four words "The Emperor is dead" were enough to stop every conversation on the ship.

For the second time in FN-999's life, his supreme leader had fallen. It hurt just as much as the death of the First Order's Supreme Leader. Yet again, he was afflicted by three successive waves of emotion: grief, guilt, and self-doubt. This time; however, a fourth emotion joined the mix. Fear. Unlike the mysterious Supreme Leader of the First Order, he had been in the presence of and talked with Rurik Fel, and knew the unique charisma he possessed. With him dead, would the remaining Imperial forces on Tython survive? What about the superweapon project? Known only to Fel, a few key Moffs, and himself, would the project be able to get off the ground without its key backer? Uncertainty was rampant.

Finally, about four hours after the battle on Tython began, Progenitor re-entered hyperspace. However, its destination was not Tython. It instead returned to Bastion, unceremoniously dumping the 908th on the streets of the Imperial capital. There, they worked to maintain order as news of the Emperor's death became public. FN-999 was there among his legionaries as Lord General Erskine Barran, whom he had long respected, took up the mantle of Lord Regent and declared a triumvirate. Yet the words rang hollow in FN-999's ears. At the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was visit Tython and clear his conscience.

Seeking only his own redemption, he would travel alone.

FN-999 exhaled, his mind returning to the present.

With his heart as heavy as his concealed armor, he roamed the deserted battlefield in search of clues.​

 

[Valery Noble]

Location: Tython | Temple path
Appearance: Link
Outfit: Factory Link
Weapon: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Tag: Silas Westgard

Not too much stress on his ribs? She looked him up and down for a moment, then nodded. It was something she'd have to take into account, considering the Flesh Raiders were still out there. The last thing she needed was to get her husband's Padawan injured right after he was cleared from the hospital. The look she'd get for that...

"I was mostly just wanting a moment for us to talk, but there are still some things out here. So be on your guard," she said with a soft smile before she looked back into the environment. There was a brief moment of silence, but his question returned her attention to him, "I was with him, and we fought Kyrel Ren. He and I have... quite a history," she blinked at her own words — it was an understatement.

"We got close to ending him as well, but he has proven to be difficult to really finish off. Now he has turned into some kind of monster, a wound in the Force." She frowned now. To an extent, the battle had weakened and almost killed Kyrel, but in the end, he was even more of a deadly monster. So it also felt like they had made things worse.

"And that's the plan, we have to look ahead and move forward," she paused briefly and looked at the path ahead, "Hmm, how much have you learned about honing your senses to perceive and respond to danger? Not just picking it up when it's right in your face, but actively preventing problems just by listening to the Force."

 

[Thalia Senn]

​

BYOO
Aboard the Prosperity​

Nightmares. They wouldn't stop coming. Ever since she returned to the Jedi the feeling of him worming his way back into her mind terrified her. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Tempest, she saw herself, slaughtering colonists and murdering Chiss. Her red lightsaber carved a path of destruction and pain across the stars of the Chaos. It was the same dream. Always Tempest, always herself, fighting and killing, the wings of a great black Drake beating behind her and His voice whispering.

She woke in a cold sweat, her roughspun robes clinging to her body like poorly fitted catsuit. The bed was hard, really nothing more than a solid block of some kind of material. She had fallen asleep, against her own wishes, on top of the thin sheet they'd given her which was now also soaked through with sweat. She could read the crono from inside her cell, despite the glowing red containment field. It was daytime, only a few hours before mid-day. There was no one in the room besides herself. The Jedi had managed to keep her out of an Alliance Magma Cell and away from the other Maw prisoners, but the Prosperity was so large that despite the flourishing number of Jedi in the New Order now it was almost like a ghost town.

Thalia swung her legs over the block bed and stood, running a hand through her stub of a mowhawk. Why had she done that? She'd loved her locks before. It was going to take some getting used to. There was a tray with water and some kind of packed instant hydration ration in a bowl near the edge of her containment field. The water was nice. She'd been feeling a bit dehydrated but the food she left for later, or maybe never. She wasn't a fan of those hydrated rations. They reminded her of battery acid as they fizzled and popped with the water as you stirred them until the black goopy substance began to resemble something like food. No, she'd skip that for now.

The bottle drained of its contents and without fresh clothes to don she returned to her block and sat at its foot and began to meditate. Something she hadn't done in a long time.

 

[Iris Arani]

"As okay as I can be."

A nonanswer, but like Amani she didn't want to focus on herself. And, as if on cue, a new problem came to them. A drunk Kai, shambling about. Disappointment and concern filled her gaze as she stared down at her fellow Padawan. He did it again. Pushed his new body way past it's limits before even realizing what those limits were. She crouched beside him, helping him to stay sat up. She learned some things about this. Someone too drunk on their back could choke on their vomit, right?

Gotta keep him sa-

Iris blinked once. The colors had shifted, wrongly. A shade she recognized crept through the camp. She shot up, pulling Kai with her rather abruptly.

"Carnifex."

She'd only learned his name after Teta. The Sith Lord she'd run from.

"We need to evacuate the camp. Now."

Aaran Tafo | Kai Bamarri | Amani Serys | Darth Carnifex | Jasper Kai'el