Private Squatter's Rights

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

The rust-hued dust of Korriban swirled in the twilight as Serina Calis descended into the shadowed crevices of the ancient world, her steps measured and deliberate. Each gust of wind seemed to whisper secrets of dark power and hidden truths, carried from the depths of forgotten tombs. The planet, a silent testament to the Sith's unyielding quest for dominion, beckoned her closer with its eerie, unsettling call.

Serina's eyes, a piercing blue reminiscent of Chandrila's serene skies, contrasted starkly with the blood-red sands beneath her boots. Her long, golden blonde hair was pulled back into a tight braid, swaying gently with her movements, a practical choice to keep it away from her face as she navigated the harsh terrain. The traditional Jedi robes she wore were modified for the journey; armored panels subtly woven into the fabric, offering protection while maintaining the illusion of a typical Padawan's garb.

As she approached the entrance of the tomb, her heart quickened, not out of fear, but anticipation. This was the tomb of a Sith Lord whose name had been lost to time, its location revealed only through an ancient map she had found tucked away in a neglected archive of the Jedi Temple. The map itself was a puzzle, filled with riddles and traps that tested her understanding of the Dark Side, and by extension, her resolve.

"Control," she whispered to herself, a mantra to steady her focus. The tomb's entrance loomed before her, a gaping maw carved into the side of a towering cliff. Statues of ancient Sith warriors lined the path, their faces eroded yet still menacing, as if challenging her right to pass. The air was thick with the musk of decay, an omnipresent reminder of the death that dominated this planet.

As Serina stood at the threshold, she felt the unmistakable pull of the Dark Side. It was stronger here, more raw and untamed than anything she'd felt in the sanitized halls of the Jedi Temple. Here, the Force was alive with passion and power, emotions she was taught to restrain but now found herself inching to embrace.

Her hand hovered over the hilt of her lightsaber, the cool metal a comforting weight at her side. Yet, she refrained from igniting it. Stealth was her ally today, not the blazing beacon of a Jedi's weapon. Instead, she extended her senses, reaching out with the Force to probe the darkness ahead. The tomb responded with a cold embrace, ancient energies swirling around her, testing her worthiness.

Inside her mind, a battle waged between caution and curiosity. She knew the dangers that likely awaited—traps, both physical and spiritual, laid by the Sith to protect their secrets. Yet, the potential knowledge and power held within those stone walls promised so much more. Artifacts, texts, perhaps even holocrons filled with forbidden lore. The thought of it all, the unclaimed power, made her heart race with greedy anticipation.

With a deep breath, Serina stepped into the shadows, her boots silent on the cool stone floor. Her blue eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, the subtle Force-enhanced perception allowing her to navigate the initial corridor with ease. The air was stale, untouched by time, yet it thrummed with an energy that spoke of centuries of solitude, waiting for one bold enough to uncover its secrets.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Serina Calis

Beneath Korriban's crimson twilight, Braze followed the golden-haired Padawan across the shifting dunes. He cloaked himself in the Force, making each step light and soundless as he observed her cautious pace. Even as the wind kicked dust into swirling eddies, his focus never left the girl measuring her every motion with quiet intent.
​

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis

After fleeing the pits of Sleheyron, Sevrin had claimed the scrap-worn saber that Darth Dacian had tossed to him in the heat of battle. Though crude and unrefined, it felt right in his grasp—a weapon forged from defiance and necessity, now a symbol of his survival. It was his now, and he would wield it as both blade and beacon in his ascent.

The teachings of the holocron became his guide in the days that followed his escape. Each lesson unraveled a deeper understanding of the Dark Side, illuminating paths of power and ambition he had never before imagined. The glowing red artifact had become his constant companion, its geometric shapes twisting and reconfiguring under his hands like a puzzle he could not put down. There was a strange comfort in the act, as though manipulating its shifting facets mirrored his own transformation.

As the holocron's ghostly visage shimmered into existence once more, Darth Maltheron's crimson-tinted figure stood tall, exuding an aura of menace. His voice, slow and venomous, dripped with authority, each syllable weighted with intention. Sevrin listened intently, replaying the message yet again. He sought not comfort but consistency, dissecting every word, every inflection, as if the holocron might yield some hidden truth about the path it had set him upon.

"Korriban's sands stand as silent sentinels to ambitions unnumbered—monuments to triumphs fleeting and failures etched in blood. To tread upon this desolation is to rouse the echoes of those long departed, drawn by a siren call of power they could not subdue.

These tombs are not merely sepulchers; they are crucibles. Their architects fashioned every statue, every inscription, every lurking shadow to unmask frailty—be it in the faint of heart or in the arrogant. Raised as memorials to sovereignty, each stone is an echo of the Sith who shaped it. Know this, Acolyte: the Dark Side does not rest in these chambers; it courses through them, ravenous and unyielding, forever testing the mettle of those who pass.

Born of the raw passions and torments of the entombed, the trials within are spiritual as much as they are corporeal. The air itself seems to crush those lacking fortitude, while illusions twist perception until friend becomes foe. Only the resolute—those who command their fears rather than cower before them—may seize the secrets locked within.

Observe the statues flanking your path—do you perceive their lifeless gaze? For inside their silent visages may dwell talismans, bound with restless spirits hungering to ensnare the unwary. You must discern truth from trickery, lest you invite oblivion. The Dark Side tolerates no carelessness; it favors focus and precision above all else.

The relics you seek are far from inert curios. Consider the holocron in your grasp—a vessel of its creator's indomitable will, lingering through ages to bequeath its knowledge. Yet beware: not all revelations are benign. Some truths lie coiled like serpents, ready to strike the foolhardy.

Here, in the Tomb of Darth Vyranthus, a master of deception and dread, you stand on the threshold of his final bequest—a weapon he named the Shard of Oblivion.

A crystalline fragment steeped in the Dark Side, the Shard magnifies its wielder's grasp on the minds of the weak. But such potency demands a terrible toll. Many who coveted its power found their own sanity unspooled, their ambitions devoured by the very darkness they sought to tame. To claim it, you must conquer not only the perils of this tomb but the labyrinth within your own soul.

Step forth, Acolyte, and prove your claim upon the legacy you would inherit. The Shard of Oblivion does not yield to the timid, nor does the tomb abide the unfit. Each step you take edges you nearer to transcendence—or to a demise as nameless as the dust that blankets Korriban's unremembered dead."

Sevrin exhaled, his breath silent in the gloom of the antechamber's stagnant air. A moment stretched into uneasy silence as he studied the worn stone pillars, each carved surface heavy with centuries of forgotten whispers. The weight of an unspoken challenge loomed at the edge of his thoughts—a presence he could neither see nor ignore.

Then his gaze lifted. Someone else was here; he felt it like a chill on his skin. In an instant, he pressed himself into the gloom, melting into shadow as a predator might before the strike. His senses sharpened as he waited for the silent intruder to betray themselves.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

The air within the tomb was oppressive, dense with ancient malice and the whispers of long-dead Sith, their voices etched into the very stone. Serina stepped lightly, her senses extended to their fullest, probing the darkness for threats both seen and unseen. The hushed echo of her footsteps mingled with the subtle shifts of sand and stone, a symphony of solitude that was as much a part of Korriban as the tombs themselves.

The path forward was lined with statues, towering effigies of Sith Lords whose glares seemed to pierce through the dim light, their silent judgment weighing heavily in the air. Serina's gaze lingered on each one, her mind racing with thoughts of the power they once wielded and the secrets they now guarded. The prophecy echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the destiny that awaited her—a destiny forged by confrontation with the very essence of the Dark Side.

As she moved deeper into the tomb, her connection to the Force grew stronger, more visceral. It pulsed around her, a current of dark energy that teased and tempted, offering glimpses of immense power veiled behind trials of spirit and strength. Each step was a defiance of the dangers that lurked, a testament to her resolve to ascend beyond the limitations of her life as a Jedi Padawan.

The air shifted subtly, and Serina paused. There was a presence here, another seeker of the dark relics hidden within these walls. She reached out with the Force, her senses brushing against a mind shrouded in shadows, its intentions obscured by careful cultivation. Her heart quickened—not with fear, but with the thrill of the challenge. Here was an adversary, perhaps even an unwitting ally in her quest.

Steeling herself, she advanced toward the source of the disturbance, her hand resting lightly on her saber's hilt. The chamber ahead was dimly lit by the flickering glow of torches, their flames casting long, dancing shadows against the rough stone walls. It was here that the presence was strongest, a silent call that drew her forward.

With a quiet breath, Serina rounded a pillar, her eyes scanning the darkness. There, hidden in the gloom, was the silhouette of another figure, masked by shadows yet unmistakably poised for conflict. She could feel his focus, as sharp and ready as her own, a predator waiting in the quiet before the pounce.

"Who treads the same dark path as I?" Serina called into the shadows, her voice steady, imbued with the calm authority of one who has faced death and returned, reborn. The flickering torchlight played over her features, casting her in a tableau of light and shadow, a visual echo of her inner turmoil between light and dark.

Her challenge hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown in the silent expanse of the tomb. She did not ignite her saber, nor did she advance further. Instead, she waited, her every sense alert, ready to read the intentions of the one who shared her pursuit.

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis

Sevrin was not one to be underestimated, and the instant Serina appeared to sense his presence—despite his meticulous efforts to remain concealed—elicited a swift and violent response. In a surge of dark energy, he ignited his lightsaber, the blade erupting in a blood-red blaze that bathed the antechamber in a sinister glow. Without a moment's hesitation, Sevrin advanced, as he launched a series of strikes towards Serina.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

As Sevrin's lightsaber ignited, casting its crimson light across the darkened chamber, Serina's instincts kicked into high gear. The air crackled with the raw energy of his advance, a palpable wave of aggression that demanded a response. Her own lightsaber remained unlit, held loosely by her side, a symbol of her restraint and her confidence in her other abilities.

"Your haste to strike reveals more than you know," Serina called out calmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. She stepped back, not in retreat but to better assess her opponent. Her eyes, sharp and clear, fixed on Sevrin's silhouette against the flickering shadows, reading his movements, his posture, the slight tells of his body that spoke of his next move.

Using Dun Möch, she aimed to unsettle him, her words calculated to probe his resolve and focus. "Is it fear or desperation that fuels your actions, I wonder?" she continued, her tone laced with a provocative edge, designed to incite doubt or anger, to make him question his own motivations and shake his concentration.

As Sevrin launched his series of strikes, Serina's training in Shii-Cho—the most fundamental of the lightsaber forms—served her well. She moved fluidly, evading with grace and precision, her movements a dance of avoidance rather than confrontation. Each dodge was calculated, designed not only to escape harm but also to observe, to learn the rhythm and pattern of his attacks.

Her connection to the Force deepened, the dark energy of the tomb intertwining with her heightened senses. She tapped into Force Sense to anticipate Sevrin's strikes, each premonition guiding her steps and turns with almost prophetic accuracy. The shadows around her seemed to bend, enhancing her presence, making her seem both there and not, a ghost flitting through the dim light.

Finally, Serina decided it was time to reveal a fraction of her capability. Her hand flicked to the hilt of her lightsaber, and with a swift, deliberate motion, she ignited the blade. The brilliant blue light surged forth, casting a stark contrast to Sevrin's red, its hum a steady promise of defense. Yet, she did not attack. Instead, she held her ground, her stance open and ready, her blade a barrier rather than a threat.

"Consider your next move carefully." she said, her voice a blend of warning and challenge. "This path we walk is perilous, and the secrets of the Dark Side are unforgiving. We can be adversaries here, or we can seek understanding. The choice is yours."

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis

Sevrin didn't pause to savor the advantage; hesitation was a luxury reserved for the weak. The crimson blade arced downward with vicious precision, forcing Serina to twist away, barely avoiding the searing heat that cut too close to her throat. He pressed forward without mercy, his movements fluid and brutal, each strike born of experience forged in blood and survival.

There were no taunts now, no space for words. The feral gleam in Sevrin's pale blue eyes spoke volumes—this was no sparring match, no philosophical debate. It was a hunt, and Serina was his prey.

It was clear she was being driven into a corner. Every feint she attempted, every calculated dodge, was met with a brutal counter that cut off her options, forcing her closer to the jagged edge of defeat.

For all her skill, Serina would realize the cold truth: she was out of her depth. This wasn't a duel of equals or a sparr with some tender handed padawan, but a collision of ideologies where one side wielded the unyielding edge of experience, honed in real battles where hesitation meant death.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

The relentless onslaught bore down on Serina like the weight of a collapsing star. Each strike from Sevrin's crimson blade drove her further back, her defenses tested to their limits. The scorching heat of his saber brushed too close for comfort, singeing the edge of her focus. But Serina's mind, sharp and adaptive, refused to cower beneath the brutal rhythm of his assault.

"Enough," she hissed under her breath, her voice low and venomous, not meant for Sevrin but for herself—a command, an invocation.

Her stance shifted, the chaos of Shii-Cho giving way to something more deliberate, more controlled. She called upon the Force, not as a passive shield but as an extension of her will. It surged through her veins, a tide of power amplified by the tomb's oppressive energy. Sevrin's strikes met not just a saber, but a presence—cold, unyielding, and calculating.

With a flick of her wrist and a subtle pivot, Serina employed Tràkata, disengaging her blade mid-parry. The sudden absence of resistance caused Sevrin's attack to overextend, his momentum carrying him slightly off balance. In that fleeting moment, Serina reignited her saber, the brilliant blue arc slashing horizontally toward his exposed flank. It was not a killing blow but a message—a calculated risk that demanded his attention.

Her voice, steady and edged with steel, cut through the clash of blades. "You think brute force alone will decide this?" she said, her tone biting. "The Dark Side rewards precision, not recklessness."

She advanced now, no longer retreating. Her saber spun in precise arcs, the measured efficiency of Shii-Cho complemented by flashes of raw aggression. Her strikes were aimed to corner, to control, each movement imbued with the intent to dominate. The Force hummed around her, a symphony of power that whispered promises of victory.

"You cannot break me," she declared, her voice resonant, her confidence an unshakable pillar amidst the chaos. "I have faced death and risen. What are you compared to that?"

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis
The moment Serina deactivated her blade to bait his over-extension, Sevrin didn't hesitate—but neither did he fall for the trap. The hum of her saber vanished, and with it, the typical rhythm of a duel, but Sevrin wasn't a duelist. He didn't rely on the elegance of form or the predictability of technique. He was a fighter, forged in the bloodied pits of survival, and his response was brutal and immediate.

He surged forward closing the distance with a pit fighter's instinct for pragmatic brutality. His movements were raw and unorthodox, a predator monopolizing on the moment of the lost guard. She had let her guard down by extinguishing her blade and he would punish her for it.

Sevrin stepped inside her guard, leveraging his height and strength. He lashed out with his elbow in a vicious, sharp, angular strike aimed toward her face, attempting to disrupt her focus. By forcing the fight into close quarters, he aimed to shift the encounter into a grappling brawl. His back swing followed, intending to use the worn sabre hilt's back end as a fulcrum.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

The elbow struck with the force of a falling durasteel beam, slamming into Serina's face and snapping her head to the side. Pain exploded across her cheek and temple, sharp and blinding, and she staggered back, her balance momentarily lost. She felt the metallic tang of blood pooling in her mouth, the coppery taste grounding her in the brutal reality of the encounter.

Instinct screamed at her to lash out, to strike back without thought, but Serina's mind was a steel trap, honed to calculate even under duress. She channeled the pain, letting it flow into the Force, a dark reservoir she could draw from. When the second blow came—the butt of Sevrin's saber hilt colliding with her ribcage—it was like being hit by a hammer. The breath rushed from her lungs, and her knees threatened to buckle, but she refused to fall.

She couldn't fall.

Through the haze of agony, she forced her body to respond. Planting her feet firmly, she shifted her stance, grounding herself against the onslaught. Her blue eyes, sharp even through the sting of tears and blood, locked onto Sevrin's with unwavering intensity. Her expression, though battered, was defiant, the pain igniting a fire within her.

"You hit like a savage," she spat, her voice sharp despite the blood she wiped from her lips with the back of her hand. This Sith wielded brutality as a weapon, Serina was taking notes.

In the narrow space between them, Serina extended her free hand, fingers curling slightly, and unleashed a telekinetic strike aimed at Sevrin's dominant arm. It wasn't meant to hurl him across the room but to disrupt his momentum, to weaken his hold and force him to relinquish the pressure of his close-quarters assault.

Her lightsaber ignited once more with a sharp hiss, the brilliant blue light bathing the space around them. She brought the blade up in a defensive arc, a barrier between them, buying herself a precious moment to recover fully. The pain still burned, a constant reminder of the stakes, but it also fueled her resolve.

She needed a plan, a plan in dreadful haste.

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis

Sevrin was strewn back several feet, his boots scraping across the dusty floor as they sought purchase to steady his form. His shoulders rolled, and a cruel smile split across his visage. He seemed startled by the unseen push of the Force, though the expression was fleeting. Shifting his stance, he kicked up a jagged rock and a few dirt clumps from the ground, tossing them into the air with his foot before catching and launching them at her as hard as he could throw.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

Serina's instincts flared as the debris hurtled toward her. With a sharp wave of her free hand, she summoned a burst of telekinesis, sending the jagged rock and dirt scattering harmlessly to the sides. Her eyes narrowed, fixing on Sevrin like a blade poised to strike.

"Pathetic," she snapped, her voice laced with disdain. "Do you truly think such crude tricks will stop me?"

She surged forward, her blue blade slicing through the air in a precise arc, her strikes calculated to test his defense, to drive him back further into the tomb's shadows.

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis
He dropped low, dragging his hand and the sole of his boot across the gritty tomb floor in a swift, fluid motion. The movement sent a spray of dust and dirt arching upward, propelled toward her face and eyes in a chaotic burst designed to blind and disorient.

He weaved back raising his scrap worn saber to block her strikes as he kept a careful distance. With a sharp pivot, his hand strewn out another arc of dirt he had previously picked up from the floor, flinging it toward her eyes in a second blinding assault. Sevrin had honed this strategy through countless battles—disabling an opponent's senses before moving in for the kill was second nature, especially against those stronger or more skilled than himself.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

Serina reacted swiftly, instincts honed by countless hours of training (and extensive use to keep her hidden in her temple escapades) taking over. She turned her head sharply, closing her eyes and extending her connection to the Force through Force Sight. The gritty particles clawing at the air were no hindrance now—her awareness expanded beyond physical vision, perceiving Sevrin's movements and intentions as clearly as if she were watching them unfold.

She was lucky, without this integral skill in her kit, this move could of been her undoing, but now it was time for Sevrin to fight in Serina's style.

"Is that all your ingenuity amounts to?" she sneered, her voice cutting through the chaos as she brought her saber around in a wide, defensive sweep, deflecting his attempts to close the gap before resetting her offensive, the blood running from her nose now adding to the dense, particulate air. Her blue blade flashed as she advanced, striking with precision rather than force, switching from her better Form I to her more improvisational Form II, aiming to keep Sevrin on the defensive and deny him the space to execute another cheap trick.

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis
Sevrin's blade was loosed with an warbling arch flying behind her, throwing the blade in to the antechamber in an attempt at drawing attention away, or forcing it to be split. He surged forward, capitalizing on the distraction as she transitioned into a Makashi stance. His hand darted in an inside to outside block to intercept her sword arm, fingers turning and seeking a grip to tighten around her wrist with vice-like hold. At the same time, his other hand shot toward her shoulder gripping at her top and aiming to unseat her balance with a firm shove back.

Driving his momentum forward, he twisted sharply, his leg sweeping low behind her front knee in a bid to destabilize her footing. Severin leaned in to the momentum, his elbow cutting a vicious path toward her throat as he slammed it forwards, intent on driving the air from her lungs and shattering her rhythm entirely.

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

Serina's focus split for the briefest of moments as Sevrin's thrown blade hissed through the air behind her. The distraction was enough. His hand clamped around her wrist, wrenching her saber arm to the side, while the grip on her shoulder sent her stumbling backward. The sharp twist of his leg behind her knee unseated her completely, and she fell hard onto the gritty floor, the impact jarring through her body.

Before she could fully recover, his elbow drove into her throat. A choked gasp escaped her lips as pain exploded through her neck, and the air seemed to vanish from her lungs. Instinctively, she rolled to the side, away from his crushing momentum, coughing as she fought to breathe again.

Lying on the cold stone, Serina's mind raced. She could feel her body trembling from the blows, her muscles burning, but her resolve hardened. This wasn't just a fight for survival anymore—it was a battle for dominance, and she wasn't about to let herself be broken.

She forced herself back onto her feet, her lightsaber reigniting with a defiant hiss. Her vision sharpened as she reached deeper into the Force, drawing on its energy to steady her breathing and dull the pain. But she knew now: she couldn't win this fight alone, not with Sevrin's raw ferocity and unorthodox tactics overwhelming her.

Extending her senses, Serina reached out into the tomb, seeking the latent power that thrummed in its walls. The tomb had tested countless Sith before her, its energies alive with malice and opportunity. She would make it an ally, bend its chaotic essence to her will.

"You think you've won?" she rasped, her voice hoarse but steady, her blue eyes blazing with defiance. "You'll regret underestimating me."

As she drew on the Dark Side's latent power, she felt it stirring, answering her call. She stood tall, prepared to use the tomb itself to turn the tide of the battle. Whatever the cost, she would not fall here.

For was there anyone else to save her, but herself?

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis

The crimson saber arced back from its apex, spinning like a comet carving fire through the void of the darkened antechamber. Sevrin snatched it mid-flight, the hilt slamming into his palm with a resounding clap. Without pause, he surged forward, driving the blade downward in a savage, uncompromising arc.

Sevrin had spent a lifetime beneath the crushing weight of another's boot. Chains—both visible and unseen—had bound him, twisting his flesh and spirit into shapes of servitude he refused to let define him. Those chains were broken now, their shattered remnants of the bondage in the abuse he suffered fueling him with relentless purpose. He would never yield, never bow. His defiance burned hotter than the blade in his grasp, and he'd sooner let the galaxy crumble than relinquish control to anyone.

He hammered down with unrelenting aggression, each strike heavier and faster than the last. His attacks were primal, a tempest of feral violence that seemed to radiate from the very core of his being. This wasn't a duel for a win —it was fight for domination. With every blow, he sought not victory, but annihilation of the idea that she—or anyone—could rise above him. The battle had devolved into raw, visceral power, a contest Sevrin was determined to control.

He adapted swiftly, his cunning matching his brutality. Having observed her techniques, he turned them against her. A torrential Force push erupted from him, a tidal wave of kinetic fury that ripped chunks of debris from the ground and hurled them forward like deadly projectiles. Shards of stone shattered fragmented strewn forth carrying the weight of his undying hatred and need for retribution not for what she represented, but for the man he had once been.

As the dust cleared, Sevrin finally broke his silence, his voice low and seething with menace.

"Yield the temple to me and flee now... or die trying, little girl."

 

[Serina Calis]

Equipment: Traditional Jedi Robes (Beige and Brown), Lightsaber (Aqua),
Location: Korriban, Undiscovered Tomb.
Tag: Braze Sevrin

Serina's arms trembled under the unrelenting assault, each strike of Sevrin's crimson blade hammering against her defenses like the tolling of a death knell. Her blue saber wavered with every desperate parry, its hum a fragile whisper against the deafening roars of his ferocity. Sweat and blood slicked her face, her vision blurred by the fine grit of shattered stone. The air crackled with raw energy, heavy with the oppressive weight of Sevrin's hatred and dominance.

The tidal wave of his Force push tore through the chamber, a devastating crescendo of power. Serina had only seconds to react, raising her arms and pulling the Force around her like a fragile cocoon. The impact hurled her backward, slamming her into the unforgiving wall with bone-rattling force. Pain shot through her body, sharp and electric, as she crumpled to the floor amidst the rubble.

For a moment, she stayed there, gasping for air, her hands scraping at the gritty ground for purchase. Her saber flickered, its light dimming, as though reflecting the failing strength in her limbs. The chamber seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening, the cold touch of defeat clawing at her resolve.

But then, from the depths of her agony, a voice—not her own, yet deeply familiar—rose in the recesses of her mind. It was the Dark Side, the same infinitesimal evil that had consumed her once before.

Is this the extent of your ambition? You've tasted death before, and yet here you are, crumbling beneath a lesser man's rage. Is this all you are capable of? Stand, Serina Calis. You are destined for more than this.

Serina lusted after its devouring seductions.

The Dark Side surged around her, a storm of promise and peril, its whispers tantalizing and insistent. It offered not comfort but power—raw, untamed, and absolute. It offered her the strength to rise, to crush Sevrin beneath her heel, to show him and the galaxy that she would not be broken. She would never yield. Never bow.

Her trembling fingers clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to her knees. Her head lifted, bloodied but defiant, and her piercing blue eyes—locked onto Sevrin as he loomed over her, his crimson saber casting his shadow like a predator over its prey.

"You think me weak, a little girl?" she rasped, her voice cracked but carrying a venomous undertone. "I will break you, lacerate you and reforge you under my very heel."

"And I will enjoy."

"Every."

"Second of it."

The Force swelled within her, no longer a quiet current but a raging torrent, its intensity igniting every nerve in her body. She extended her arm, her fingers splayed, and for a brief second, the chamber seemed to still. The air grew heavy, vibrating with latent energy, the scent of ozone sharp and electric.

Then, with a scream torn from the depths of her soul, Serina unleashed it.

Searing arcs of royal-purple lightning erupted from her fingertips, jagged and chaotic, carving through the air toward Sevrin. The bolts illuminated the chamber in bursts of blinding brilliance, each crackle of energy echoing like the roar of a storm. The power surged from her in waves, wild and untamed, born of desperation and fury. It was not controlled, not refined, but it was hers—a manifestation of the Dark Side's promise and her unyielding will.

"This tomb is mine!" she snarled through gritted teeth, her voice a thunderclap amidst the storm of energy. "Everything is mine!"

The Dark Side whispered to her still, seducing her with its promises, but for now, Serina wielded it. She was no longer the desperate Padawan clinging to survival. She was something more—something dangerous, something that would not stop until all who stood before her were brought to their knees.

 

[Sevrin]

Serina Calis
Sevrin raised his crimson blade high, the hum of his lightsaber a guttural snarl against the electric scream of Serina's lightning. The storm lashed at him, wild and unrelenting, energy seeking to tear through his defenses. For a moment, his blade held—its plasma core flaring bright under the onslaught, illuminating the chamber in bursts of blinding white brilliance.

Then, the inevitable—an explosion of raw energy erupted where lightning met saber, a concussive blast that sent Sevrin staggering back. He braced himself, boots skidding across the gritty stone floor, but the force of the impact was tremendous, driving him toward the shadowed edge of the chamber.

A low snarl escaped his lips as he straightened, his silhouette wreathed in the smoke and ash of the blast. His pale blue eyes narrowed, the disdain in his gaze cutting sharper than his blade. "Fine," he hissed, his voice low and venomous, reverberating through the chaos like the calm before a storm. "Then let this tomb be your grave."

Without hesitation, Sevrin stretched out his free hand, his fingers curling into a clawed grip as he drew deeply on the Force. The chamber quaked under his will, the ancient stones groaning as he ripped at the ceiling above them. Dust and debris rained down in a torrent, the sound of cracking rock deafening as massive slabs began to give way.

Chunks of the ceiling crashed to the floor, the air thick with choking dust. Sevrin's form disappearing into the darkened corridors beyond. The fading glow of his broken saber was the only sign of his presence, a dying ember swallowed by the darkened shadows.

As he slipped into the labyrinthine depths of the ruins, a sneer tugged at his lips. "Let her rage beneath the ruble," he muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with scorn. "A tantrum unbecoming of anything more than a spoiled brat."

Sevrin's focus turned inward as he moved swiftly through the maze of ancient halls, his mind already on his true goal. Serina's outburst, however volatile, was nothing more than a delay—a distraction he could not afford to indulge. There were greater powers to uncover, secrets buried deeper than the rubble he'd left behind.

And if she survived, so be it. Her fury might make her stronger—or it might consume her entirely. Either way, she was no longer his concern.

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Serina Calis

Braze had seen it all. Hidden not far from the original entrance, he had followed Serina here, drawn by curiosity—or perhaps some unspoken instinct. The echoes of their clash had reached him first, a battle of destruction and rage that left little doubt about the stakes. And then, as the ceiling began to collapse, his instincts took over.

The rumble of stone was deafening as he rushed out from the shadows, his form a blur amidst the swirling dust and falling debris. With a desperate surge of the Force, he reached upward, fingers splayed as invisible energy coalesced into a shimmering barrier above them. The stones above groaned and cracked, pressing against the tenuous shield.

"Damn it, hold—hold!" he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice strained as the weight of the collapsing ceiling bore down on him. Braze dropped to one knee, his arms trembling under the immense strain. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, his connection to the Force faltering as he fought against the sheer magnitude of the rubble.

What had driven him to this moment? Had he seen her outburst—her descent into fury, her embrace of the Dark Side's seductive power? Or had he simply acted on instinct, seeing a potential ally crushed under stone?

All that mattered was that he was here. He was here, fighting to protect her.
Through the haze of pain and effort, his voice reached her, low and rough but edged with urgency. "Serina! I can't hold this forever!"

The chamber was chaos—a cacophony of shattering stone with dust and grit choked the air, coating his face in a thin layer of grime. Yet through it all, his focus remained unshaken, his will driven by something deeper than logic or even loyalty.

Whether she would rise from this moment as an ally, an enemy, or something in between was... uncertain.

But for now, Braze was here—shielding her from death, even as his own strength began to wane.

​