Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Skirmish [SO/GA] Caldera Crisis

Location: Lower Atmosphere - Elom
Time: Late Afternoon
Objective: I - Sith Pursuit │ Intercept Evacuation Ships
Call Sign: Dancer One
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tag: Lao-ta Lao-ta

Focus.

Time slowed to a crawl as Seela Leini drove her starfighter into the merge against the Alliance X-Wing, before rolling her wings to port and initiating a sharp break turn as the bandit turned in the opposite direction, away from her trajectory. Reading the two-circle flow, Seela dropped her starfighter’s nose, thereby throwing her machine into a new plane of travel while still maintaining her turn.

A deep breath.

A flash of a second and she was back at the merging point. A moment later, the enemy fighter passed into the envelope of her cannons, at which point she willed them to fire, tracing a pair of fiery lines across their fuselage. Suddenly, the bandit’s shields flickered out of existence as raging infernos sprang up along the wings. Then, the X-Wing careened out of control, followed by a sudden blast of light as the fighter went off in an explosion, dooming both pilot and craft.

<<Tally one.>> Seela Leini breathed out over comms, before pointing her nose downward and accelerating towards the surface. Before long, she was in range of her quarry—a pair of dropships no doubt tasked with picking up escapees. Without hesitation, she locked onto both of them at close range and fired a pair of concussion missiles. One immediately struck its target, causing the dropship to erupt into flames as it plunged towards the ground. The other missile sailed wide, compelling Seela to fire a pair of particle beams out from her starfighter’s cannons, which burned through her target’s shields before igniting its engines in a cascading inferno that quickly enveloped the entire craft.


<<Tally two and three, marked and dusted.>>
 
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CENTER]


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Objective: 1 - Hunt down some Jedi
Appearance: This
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tag: Jonyna Si Jonyna Si

Wallgof just laughs deeply, he didn't care that his words were apparently repeating what others had stated, it was triggering her. Her emotions were clearly heightened. "They sent a Padawan to kill me it seems, because no Jedi Knight or Master would be this weak." The concussion deflected around him, as he protects himself.

He could sense her fears, her worries about losing someone close to her again. "Your bonds make you weak, you need to break them child." Wallgof mentioned, his attempts to break through her mind were manipulating her eyes, causing her to see things that were not there. Visions of those she loved being cut down by Sith. Wallgof knew there was an enemy older, more hated than the Sith for this Cathar but he would wait. That would be something he saved to truly break this Jedi.

As she charged, one of the Jedi she claimed was a friend, their vision was twisted, their mind corrupted into believing that Jonyna was the Sith. The Jedi flung themselves in front of Wallgof and defended him, falsely believing they were saving a civilian against the evil Sith. "Seems your friend cares more for me than for you Jedi." Wallgof laughed darkly.

"I think you are a fool if you think inquisitors were any thing but shells of the Sith. They knew nothing of true power and it demonstrated." Wallgof did not care about those pretending to be Sith in all but name.

 
Jonyna frowned as the padawan in front of her seemed to come to his aid. Was that his ploy? Dispatching the padawan was easy enough. A slash from Sally to disable their saber, then a punch to the face to knock them out. This was between her and the sith.

"Ya sure?" Jonyna could play this game too. "They seem to have much more fight in them than you do if you're letting a jedi padawan do your dirty work for you!"

Calm your thoughts Knight of Cathar. He was using you, turning you against your wills. Do Good. Protect the Innocent. Those words repeated in her mind like a mantra.

Darth Wallgof Darth Wallgof
 




On the battlefield, Braze felt oddly at home. He thrived in the chaos of hurt and pain. He practically begged to be brought along and was vehemently taking to task with excited vigor. Excited to be thrown into the thick of it he lived for the moment to make his stand and be remembered for his actions. He felt a change suddenly a familiar presence on the field. His soft, jade green eyes widened recognizing that presence.

Braze's heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the chaotic battlefield, searching for any sign of Ali. His mission was clear: protect the Ashlan refugees from the Sith pursuers. But there was another mission he had to accomplish, one that weighed heavily on his heart. He had to find Ali, to intercept her and prevent her from causing harm.
And then he saw her.

Ali, consumed by anger and vengeance, charged toward an Ashlan Knight. Braze's heart sank at the sight. He couldn't let her unleash her fury upon innocent lives. He had to stop her.

Braze's jaw clenched as he witnessed the rage in her eyes. Memories of their past 'friendship' clashed with the pain of her betrayal. He couldn't let her wreak havoc and get away with what she had done.

Determined to confront her, Braze moved swiftly through the battlefield, his steps guided by a mix of duty and a simmering desire for justice. He couldn't allow her to escape the consequences of her actions, especially after stealing and bleeding his lightsaber gem, a tangible symbol of their fractured trust.

As he closed the distance between them, Braze mustered the courage to call out, his voice laced with a hint of righteous anger. He had to reach her, to distract her from her destructive path. Fuled by a mix of fear and love for Ali, he mustered the courage to call out, using the nickname he knew she despised.

"Hey Goldy-Locks!"

Braze's voice pierced through the sounds of battle, carrying with it a mix of urgency and nostalgia. He hoped the familiarity of the nickname would catch her attention, and make her pause for just a moment. The nickname that he had once playfully given her now carried a twinge of resentment. He wanted her to remember the pain she had caused him, the weight of her betrayal.

"Remember me? It's Braze," he continued, his voice carrying a mix of determination and a longing for closure. "You thought you could just take what was mine, and leave me in the dust. Well, I'm here to tell you that I won't let you get away with it."

Braze's eyes locked with Ali's, his gaze filled with a mixture of hurt and a desire for retribution. But beneath the layers of anger, a flicker of compassion remained. He knew that revenge alone would not bring them any resolution.

He hoped his words would penetrate the walls of her rage, sparking a moment of reflection. Braze knew that seeking revenge wouldn't heal the wounds that Ali had caused, but he also couldn't ignore the desire for justice that burned within him. He wanted her to understand the gravity of her actions and the consequences they carried.

Amidst the chaos of battle, Braze stood before her, ready to confront the person she had become. Braze held his breath, waiting for her response. The battle raged around them, but in that moment, all he cared about was reaching her. He would be her adversary as he drew his blade up into a guarded pose closing in on her.
 

CENTER]


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Objective: 1 - Hunt down some Jedi
Appearance: This
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tag: Jonyna Si Jonyna Si

Wallgof sighed, his opponent was trying to sass him back, it was adorable attempt. Her words were weak. "Oh child, you are attacking your own kind. Harming them recklessly, risking them severe harm." He waved his hand over toward the remaining three Jedi and sent them towards Jonyna. It wasn't just forcing Jonyna to fight random Jedi and seeing how she handled them. It was also a way to see her fighting styles, to wear her down and unable to hide surprises as he assessed the Jedi.

He wasn't a fool, using minions to ensure that he could keep the tactical advantage of revealing nothing about his combat prowess but exposing the advantages he needed to dismantle her attacks.

"Do you really wish to do good? Or do you wish to exact revenge Jedi?" Wallgof chuckled deeply, his dark armour glinted, it shone in the sun exactly like Beskar.

"Because I am sure you would not be a Jedi when facing a Mandalorian. Especially one that was a Sith Lord." His voice teasing, dark as he twisted in visions of him leading a Mandalorian empire to her homeworld. The burning, pillaging. It was all false, Wallgof had forsaken the Mandalorian ways long ago.

 

Bastila Sal-Soren

Guest
B



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Wearing: XoXo
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Elom
Tag: Lily Decoria Lily Decoria , Erid Zodana
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Bastila bit her lip, watching with crystal clear vision as the chaos intensified, hand hovering near the cylindrical blade attached to her hip as she followed after Lily, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the older Padawan's words.

"I'm... I'm alright," Bastila replied, her feminine voice betraying a hint of apprehension. "Just not used to this level of danger, I suppose." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "And I uh, appreciate your support." her hazel eyes flickered in all directions, checking for incoming danger before finally settling her determined gaze forward. "It means a lot that you're here with me."

She wondered briefly, if Lily would have preferred having her older sister Briana here with her, instead of an unseasoned Padawan like herself — she wouldn't hold it against her if that were the case. While Bastila had always admired Briana fiercely and tried to emulate her older sister, there was no disputing that she wasn't her. From her earliest days at the Order, Bastila's lack of prowess with a blade was starkly evident, leading her to relegate it as a secondary skill. Now, in retrospect, honing those skills would have been worthwhile.

Still, Bastila knew where her true strengths lay - healing and support, talents that would no doubt become crucial as their day progressed. She might never be able to match a Master, but she knew enough of the basics that she felt confident she could make a difference when the time came. "Have you...ever faced Sith before? You know... in actual combat?"

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Location: Cave - Elom
Time: Late Afternoon
Objective: I - Sith Pursuit
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tag: Mnoi Akûti Mnoi Akûti

The crowd of filthy, disheveled refugees seemed all too aware of the nature of the being who had cornered them inside the cave. In spite of her diminutive, unimposing stature, there was little doubt that they had been caught by a lone member of the Order they had been conditioned to hate and fear for almost their entire lives—a Sith. For her part, First Sister glanced over them, tuning herself into the electrifying currents of the dark side in an effort to gauge their feelings and emotions as she did.

Fear. Despair. Anger.

Perfect.

However, it was only then that she felt another signature on the approach, this one radiating different sensations. Resolve. Fury. Hatred. A Jedi? The possibility was quickly ruled out when she registered a lack of spark in his connection to the Force. Nevertheless, this one was a warrior, distinctly unlike the hapless soldiers she had slain moments before.

Immediately, the Sister spun around and brought her lightsaber up to block the incoming bolt. It was a successful play, but rather than deflecting off of her blade, the bolt exploded, sending the tiny electromancer flying a short distance back, forced onto her knees as her lightsaber clattered to the ground. All the while, the transparent shield weave protecting the “exposed” parts of her suit flickered in and out of visibility, but they still retained their integrity.

Recovering quickly, the electromancer leveled both of her hands towards the tall warrior and willed the dark side to her command. Suddenly, a pair of instantaneous, fulminating blasts of raw electricity snapped free from each of the Claws from 20 meters away, accompanied by a chorus of shrill, terrified screams as the refugees cowered inside the cave. Each of the blasts were aimed to strike her assailant in the upper chest. However, due to the reactive, defensive nature of the electromancer’s counterattack, accuracy wasn’t guaranteed. The Sister’s ultimate aim was to force the warrior on the defensive, so that she might be able to seize the initiative.

From there, she intended to compel him towards the same gruesome fate as the soldiers lying inert on the ground.


 
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Erid Zodana

Guest
E
Wearing: Light grey stiff-weave jumpsuit
Weapon: Father's lightsaber
Mood: Determined
Tags: Lily Decoria Lily Decoria Bastila Sal-Soren



Erid had kept silence amidst the hustle and bustle of padawan who were facing their fist true challenge. He had some experience, having travelled with his parents throughout the years on various Jedi missions. He had even seen a little combat. Seeing and participating were notably different though.

Erid was not a bundle of neves though. Instead, he was a coiled spring, ready to explode into action. His lanky post-growth spurt frame hid that he was actually in fairly good physical shape. Unbeknownst to even himself, his muscles were tense and unrelaxed - decidedly not calm like you would expect from a Jedi.

He could not help but overhear a couple of other padawan speaking. Why they were even here was beyond him. They clearly lacked experience and perhaps even the willingness that he had shown.

"Sith die. Jedi die. Just make sure they do so first," he said, pure white eyes glancing at them - though it would be hard for them to tell aside from the muscle twitches.

"If you wish. I can provide assistance in order that you live to see another day on which to die," he said, glance going towards their targets with a heavy exhaling.
 
"Because I am sure you would not be a Jedi when facing a Mandalorian.
That word. It rung through her head like a bell. She could feel the anger rise as she dealt with the now five padawans. They weren't the real threat. He was. Katana, then punch. Block, parry, punch. She wasn't going to wound any of these jedi. One thing became apparent to the sith lord. Her fighting style. It wasn't any one the jedi taught. If he had to guess, it was entirely improvisation. A strange mixture of Shii-Cho, Shien, Ataru and Niman, with some moves being completely original. It was as if she learned from incomplete texts, filling in the blanks as she saw fit.

Mandalorian...

That word. Those damn bucketheads who slaughtered her people. Of course he was one of them! Of course! The rage built. The Predator roared. And then Lucy went out. It snapped the word out of her head like a candle being blown out. She was Better than that. The memory of the Mandalorian back on Tatooine. A wounded warrior who only asked for kindness.

Do Good.


She wouldn't let some lord of the sith manipulate her. She lunged forward, leaping over the crowd towards the man himself. She couldn't manipulate him back, but she could face him head on. Her mind was in a war with itself. Her morals held firm, she needed to be able fight back. Her mother wouldn't allow her daughter to become a sith, no way.

Tag: Darth Wallgof Darth Wallgof
 

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The Crestfallen cut through the darkened sky, breaching the cloudbank to the sight of the capital city Elos spread out below. While a large portion of the city was an above-ground metropolis, it extended deep into the earth and was comprised of many Elom burrows. It was the Elomin that resided above, the two species having come together in mutual harmony many centuries ago. During the time of the previous Sith Empire, they were generally left to their own devices provided the Empire's lommite mining operations went undisturbed.

Thusly, the Dark Lord possessed extensive information about Elom and the composition of it's urban centers. He knew where they were located, how deep they ran beneath the ground, and an approximate number of civilians present in each. Now that He was reestablishing a continuation of the old Empire, the Dark Lord needed strong laborers and plentiful resources to carry out Revitalization. Once, the Sith had sided with the Gormak of the planet Voss to upshift the status quo and render the native Voss as little more than subjects to their warlike brethren. Already, plans to recreate those same conditions on Elom began to take shape in the Dark Lord's twisted mind.

But, for now, that would have to wait.

"Set us down near the guild-palace." The shuttle dipped down and began to rapidly descend through the air, pulling up several hundred meters from the ground before slowly descending to land in a large square before the central building in Elos. The boarding ramp lowered and the Dark Lord emerged, draped in a pristine white cloak that transitioned to black near the edges. He was unmasked with His hood pulled down, in full view of all present in the courtyard and those looking from afar. Even passive, His power was immense, the Dark Side pulsating out like waves of radiation from an open reactor.

Several functionaries of the Elom government were watching Him from the palace steps, their bodies stricken with inaction. A silence seemed to hang over the courtyard like a perched blade, ready to drop. It was only broken when the Dark Lord began to speak, His voice echoing out in all directions. "I have come to oversee a transition," began the Dark Lord, "Of a government mired in inadequacy and fear, to one embolden with power and authority. When I emerge from your hallowed guild-hall, Elom's new future shall begin." Without further elaboration, the Dark Lord began to ascend the steps, daring any to stand and challenge His presence on this world.


Whether or not the Jedi would seek Him out.


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if they're watching anyways


Finally, the Chancellor's podium rose up from the centre of the chamber. In front of her sat a massive stack of papers -- around a thousand pages. Beside it was a small, rectangular wooden box.

She stood, and began her address.

"My apologies for the delay, my esteemed colleagues -- the situation room is still a long walk from this podium," she said. "I approved a GADF task force be deployed last night and they are currently engaged.

"My tenure has, fortunately, been a long one; I was elected as the war with the Brotherhood of the Maw entered its final years, but since then we have seen an unprecedented peace. I have done my best to manage our rebuilding, to heal this nation and set our Alliance on the right path, and this-"
she slapped the stack of papers sitting on the ledge in front of her, with shocking force for how muted her tone was, "-was meant to be our next step.

"My staff and I have been working for the past few weeks to work out this budget properly. We've spent a decade balancing our books, and now, I thought, we had the chance to put things to good use, to push towards a permanent, positive peace, rather than the simple lack of war that we have been experiencing. I'll even admit, for the first time in the Alliance's history, we'd have seen a decrease in military spending."


A wry smile took her face. She opened the box and produced a thin metal cylinder, lovingly engraved with gold, made of a metal that shone and sparkled even under the blaring lights of the Senate. Anyone who knew her history knew she'd never wielded a lightsaber, but it seemed to fit in her hand perfectly, as though she'd carried it all her life.

Her left hand rose, and the stack of papers became suspended in the air before her. Do it, Resolve goaded, the Light cannot flourish when there is yet darkness to be destroyed. Free yourself to do what must be done.

She ignited the saber, and with stolen grace she slashed through the pages, cutting them perfectly in half. Again and again she struck, until she pushed the burning paper-bits off the side. After another moment's hesitation, she deactivated the saber.

"I believe we will reach a point of peace again soon," she said, placing Resolve back in its box, "but I will not head a complacent government. The Sith are a malignant tumour on this galaxy. Their ideology is seductive, but inherently corrosive, authoritarian, and oppressive. I will not stand by and see them rise again, to the point where half the galaxy is placed under their suffocating boot.

"But, as I said when we were fighting the Maw, we must always prove ourselves better. To rush towards catastrophic conflict, to want a military that spans the galaxy, to desire only to inflict pain on our enemies -- these things draw us closer to the Sith, goad us into the rules and bounds of their worldview. With that said, I will refuse emergency powers until a supermajority of the Senate deems them necessary.

"I now open the floor for new proposals concerning hostilities towards the Sith, both in the Stygian Caldera and the Outer Rim. Should you require more information, we have high command officials here to answer your questions on the situation."
 

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Nothing else mattered right now. The Sith and their conquest, their destruction of the Ashlan's, she'd help with that as soon as she was finished. But this man needed to die. By her hand. The matter she controlled continued on it's spiking path, rupturing from the very ground in her absolute anger and hate. She'd kill him. She'd leave his body skewered among his Ashlan scum of brethren and fill them all with absolute fear.

"Hey Goldy-Locks!"

The spikes scattered as he focus broke. It was a voice she recognized and remembered. Braze. The crystal she'd stolen from him now resided in the hilt on her waist, but she hadn't brought herself to use it. Her surprise attack, the fear that had filled the Ashlan's eyes as he finally caught sight of her just before the spikes impaled him, ran. Before she could stop him he ran. Rage filled her mind once more as her eyes turned to stare at the one who interrupted this final revenge she'd been seeking all this time.

"You! Why are you here!? You shouldn't be here you- You let him get away! You got in the way!"

She was fuming. Her gaze turned back to try and find her one target, and they were gone. Long gone. Frustration built as she screamed. The Force reacted to it, rippling across the ground, scattering dirt and stone.

"DAMNIT!"

Braze Braze
 

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Elom, Objective 2
Tags: Mago Leomax Mago Leomax

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"You good to keep helping people? Or do you need a rest?"

"I-I'm good." Loomi nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

People still needed their help. She had to make sure that as many people as she could got on a shuttle and escaped.

Before she could begin to act again, a high-pitched snarl rang out, followed by a series of screams and panicking. The Godoan spun around to the source of the commotion, her eyes locking with a large twisted creature, dripping with some kind of black tar. It was canine shaped and seemed to be very hostile. Sithspawn. She had encountered some on Lothal. It appeared to be alone, but very much attacking the refugees.

"W-we need to go!" the girl shouted, drawing her shape-shifting blade. "Th-that thing's attaching the civilians!"

And they needed to make it quick.


 

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Location: Senate Rotunda, Coruscant | Soundtrack: The Normandy

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Deep breaths, cracked knuckles, and a swig of spiced Bothan wine. The newly reinstated Senator of Abregado-rae did everything he could to keep his nerves in check. He hardly expected his first foray with the Alliance after these last few years to be a war council, but alas, the wheels of war never truly stop spinning. Some things, it seems, never change. He'd read the reports, even faced the threat head on during his brief campaign with the Trade League. It was undeniable, and deeply sickening to admit.

The Sith have returned.

"Senator?" his attendant chimed, her voice soft amid the cacophony of murmurs that filled the chambers. She broke his steely gaze from the center platform that would soon rise to reveal the Alliance's leader.

"Hm? Yes, my dear, forgive me. What did you say?"

"Another report, this one from Sluis Van."

The old Bothan narrowed his eyes, taking the datapad from her hands. He read over the words with shrewd feline eyes, then sighed. He spoke to her in a low voice.

"Another world, threatened by these mongrels."

He'd share the news with the rest of the assembly, but he feared that little would be done for them. They would have to wait, as insensitive as it seemed. The developing crisis in the Caldera demanded the Alliance's attention for now.

The Chancellor rose into the rotunda, pulling thousands of expectant eyes onto her frame as she stood before them. Kel noticed the stack of papers first, impressed by the symbolic message it posed, but his curious gaze remained fixed on the small box. When she withdrew a lightsaber from within, the old man couldn't help but smile beneath his whiskered muzzle. She meant business, that much was clear. Kel was pleased to see such bold action in such troubled times.

"I now open the floor for new proposals concerning hostilities towards the Sith, both in the Stygian Caldera and the Outer Rim. Should you require more information, we have high command officials here to answer your questions on the situation."

He raised an eyebrow. Perhaps there was hope yet for worlds to the far south.

Kel was eager to speak his piece, to propose nothing short of prompt action against the Sith, but he held his tongue for the moment. He trusted that he was not the only one who felt so strongly about destroying this ancient enemy before they grow any stronger. For now though, he elected to wait and watch. To observe the disposition of this very much unfamiliar Alliance he had returned to.

 




Braze stood his ground as Ali's rage unleashed around him, her frustration echoing through the battlefield. He felt the gust of her anger, the power of her unleashed emotions. It was a storm he had to weather.

"I'm here because I won't let you go down this path, Aliris!"
Braze shouted back, his voice resolute with conviction despite the chaos surrounding them. He had even used her actual name this time. "I won't let you make the same mistakes I did! I still believe in the good that lies within you."

With his lightsaber ignited, its green blade illuminating the space between them, Braze stood poised before her. His robes billowed and his snow-white hair flowed in the wake of her burst of anger. As Ali's fury threatened to consume them both, Braze took a step forward, his expression a mix of determination and concern. The weight of their shared but brief history, the stolen lightsaber gem, and her betrayal hung heavily between them.

"I know you're hurt, and I understand the pain you're feeling. But seeking revenge won't heal our wounds. It will only deepen our pain." Braze implored, his voice earnest. "We have a choice, Ali. We can let our past define us, or we can say frag that and define ourselves the way we want to be seen!"

His words hung in the air, carried by the winds of battle. Braze's eyes searched Ali's, searching for any flicker of recognition, any sign that his words were reaching her. He wanted her to see that they both carried scars, but they could choose a different path, one that led to redemption and forgiveness.

The battlefield continued to rage around them, but Braze remained steadfast, his heart set on reaching Ali's wounded soul. He hoped that amidst the chaos and anger, a glimmer of their shared connection would break through, reminding her of the person she once was, and the person she could still become- the person whom he saw just a glimmer of in that cavern when they shared their first dance, only a breath away from one another, a fleeting moment of intimacy amidst the darkness.

Now, he was ready to engage her in a different kind of dance, one forged in no less intensity,

 

Kyraj paced boldly back onto the bridge of the Omen his clothes fresh and clean having washed away the dust and blood of korriban's surface. It had been glorious. They had been magnificent. Flames and lightning. Flashing blades and roaring shadows. The Ashlan survivors hadn't stood a chance. He had personally slain many, jedi among them. They had died surprisingly easy. He had expected more from these jedi zealots, but perhaps Caedes was right in his disdain for them.

He took his place behind the captain. His master the Marquess Elmindra Xitaar. The falleen sith stood at the center of the bridge, the picture of poise and grace. As the Omen dropped out of hyperspace and the survivors of the purge appeared haggard and beaten in orbit above Elom, he listened to Darth Caedes.

"Ssa-Ran-Diip, prepare the Stolen Pride and activate the Wraithwalkers. Captain Xitaar, prepare our troops for ground assault. Make what preparations are required, then join me aboard my ship. A great power has arrived upon Elom, a dyad in the Force. The Jedi have grown overconfident, bringing both their Sword and Shield to a single vulnerable battlefront. The time has come to take matters into our own hands."

His eyes flicked to his master looking for a cue. The Sword and Shield of the jedi. Among their greatest warriors! The sith lord intended to confront them and he was bringing master Xitaar. Would they bring him as well? Surely for such important targets they would bring what power they could. Kyraj's mind still hummed with the exhilaration of slaying jedi. Would he get to try his hand against their mighty leaders?
 
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"Shut! Up!" She practically hissed the words as she turned all her fury on the one who'd gotten in the way. All her hate and rage. He was the one who cost her her revenge, so she'd get revenge on him instead. That was logical, right? No, no more thinking. No more listening. He was wrong. Good, evil, there was no such simple lines. Even now! Especially now! "He needs to die! For what he did to me, for what he did to the others! And you're just here, playing hero like you know everything that's going on! Just like in that damn tomb! You're still just a damn kid brainwashed by the Jedi that you're the good guys!"

She wasn't good. Aliris knew that better than anyone else. But it didn't matter. The saber on her hip flew into her hand as she ignited the bloody green blade. Bled, but not completely. It crackled with pain, but she didn't care.

"There are no good guys! Just those with power and those without! And I have power." The metallic substance that seemed to cling to her like an aura solidified as she raised a hand. And she sent it flying. A needle, right for the Jedi in her sights.

"You're going to regret ever getting in my way!"

Braze Braze
 
Elom
Orbit

Seela Leini Seela Leini

Lao-ta smiled as she raced back into space. Her most recent engagement with a sith order pilot had brought her down into low orbit as she defended landing craft from the enemy. As she rose she saw a pair of dropships descending. She adjusted her path to give them a wide berth. As she did she noticed a nubian style fighter closing hard on the ships. She moved to redirect her course but the enemy pilot was already on them. She watched helplessly as the landers burst into flames and she felt the deaths of their passengers.

This would be her next target. The pilot was good and the landing craft needed to be defended. She pulled hard on the yoke and accelerated in pursuit.
 
It was a classic showdown. Three Ashlans against a group of Sith soldiers. Neither side was willing to surrender, expecting their opponent not to show mercy.

Peering in at the scene through a broken window, she positioned herself so that the occupants of the house couldn't see her. She didn't want to frighten the Ashlans whom she was supposed to be defending, nor did she want to provoke the Sith into immediately turning their guns on her all at once. From her new spot, she began to speak: "If you attack these men, you won't live long enough to loot the place." Her voice sounded normal enough, perhaps ever so slightly strange, but passing for a human female. "The Ashlans have the Jedi on their side."

As a show of her Jedi powers and to make it clear that she meant business, she used the Force to seize the Sith troopers' weapons. Blasters and blades were yanked from their hands and swept out the window like tossed trash.
 
Location: Lower Atmosphere - Elom
Time: Late Afternoon
Objective: I - Sith Pursuit │ Intercept Evacuation Ships
Call Sign: Dancer One
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Tag: Lao-ta Lao-ta

Alerts vibrating against her ear cones drew Seela’s attention towards the bandit accelerating near her six. With her neural interface affording her a machine-like awareness of her starfighter and by extension, the local battlespace, not a moment was spared as the strand-cast reacted to the incoming threat. Drawing in her breath, Seela rolled her wings before whipping a sudden break turn in the direction of the pursuing bandit, albeit with her nose pointed downward for a decrease in altitude as well—a slice maneuver. Simultaneously, a mental command saw the activation of her starfighter’s distortion projector, intended to make it difficult for the bandit to acquire a target lock. With the same command, she activated the Phase Masque as well. Suddenly, her starfighter became a blur to most sensors and the naked eye, projecting a dizzying series of afterimages around her craft that might make her exact position challenging to pin down.

Challenging, but perhaps not impossible.

Breathing hard, Seela was all too aware of the fact that the enemy pilot had gotten the jump on her, perhaps owing to a lapse in concentration on her part. Unwilling to tolerate a perceived weakness, the strand-cast silently resolved to see herself disciplined for the mistake later.

But first, she had to survive.


 
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