[Team LS] Level Up - PvP/PvE Combat

[Coren Starchaser]

Today, more than ever, the galaxy needed their heroes. Coren Starchaser was an example of one, he helped lead Jedi, and freedom fighters for the majority of the past decade and a half. The freedom fighters were plucky, some were followers of the Force, others were seekers of freedom, warriors for peace, the team who would help defeat the darkness. And with the changing in the galaxy? That was needed.

Word coming from the Core and the Rim spelled chaos. There were heroes abound, but there were still room for more. And that meant working fast, taking the people who were going to step into the roles, and ensuring they were versed in what they were doing. In who they were saving, what they were defending, and the men and women on either side of them. And that was why they were here, traveling into he deeper regions of space.

The First Order had experienced the war, the Ssi-Ruuvi striking at their worlds, dismantling their fleets and scattering their citizens. But the Outer Rim Coalition, backed by the Alliance in Exile, and Jedi Orders of the galaxy, were making their foray into the fray. Starchaser had identified a world that needed assistance.

Seoul.

A world that was used for research and development, of sorts, by the First Order, and one that was classified as hazardous to the civilian populations. Corvettes were dispatched from within Outer Rim space, and a Star Defender was provided with instructions to cover the smaller vessels from the Ssi-Ruuk and the First Order, but with the distress signal? The former were the primary target of this team.

Corvettes entering atmosphere, landing craft making their way to the ground and Jedi Master Coren Starchaser, the self-styled Sword and Protector of the Jedi, the one who was leading the charge against the darkness, and for the gathering of the Light, stepped into the fray. “Teams with me, we need to find the distress call. Shield is remaining here at the landing zone, we are going to be sending civilians and wounded this way, we get them off the world. Sword, you go north, see if you can round up the Ssi-Ruuk, and watch out for the… I don’t know, wraiths, that the First Order created. Spear, you’re with me, we’re heading South. Reports coming in show a First Order militant group down there. We need to put an end to this, and focus the war.”

The Rim was igniting in fire. And even if the First Order focused on everything Starchaser was against, they were living, and they were strong. If he could bring some away from this, who could think for themselves? It was a bonus.

OOC: Welcome to the Combat Centric thread for Level Up.

We’ve got three teams, divied up into three teams.

Team Spear – Heading South. Working to fight with [member="Werewolf Command"] so we have some PvP mixed in with our PvE. We’re going to have some low-key fun, and work with each other to kind of do a bit of big-damned-hero moment here.
Team Sword – Heading North. Going to fight against Ssi-Ruuvi, First Order Zombies, any FO hold outs, and helping to save civilians/surrendered troops.
Team Shield – Securing the landing zone, setting up planetside triage, and working with the fleets.

Set up your own teams, don't go too HAM, but make up your unit, lets see if we can build some fun NPCs, and work the PCs in a few units, and working together. The goal is fun!

If you have any questions, please ask myself or, if it concerns what the planet has [member="Werewolf Command"]

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Landing Zone
Team Shield

Quill's big Tannhauser freighter had plenty of room for the good things in life, such as a prefab medical centre. As soon as the ship touched down in the quasi-secured landing zone, droids rolled out the prefab components. A bubble shield popped up around the assembling medcentre, independent of whatever defenses the broader site would have.

Frankly, Quill hadn't paid attention to that part very much. His job was making sure the prefab got up and running in time for the first groups of refugees and survivors. And casualties - there were always more casualties, no matter how well any given mission went.

Under the bubble shield, Quill and some power tools and a whole lot of droids started putting up walls.

 

[Sigyn Vanir]

Landing zone
Team Spear

Sigyn had signed up for this mission in hopes that it would help her get a feelign of what the jedi really were, and what they did. The mission had sounded like the stories she had heard, so it would be good practice for her. But that opinion changed once she got more details. Fighting creatures made by the First Order and the Ssi-Ruuvi, who she had barely heard of, was not what she had pictured at first.

Once they touched down, and got established there, the orders came from [member="Coren Starchaser"] about the mission. The Shield team did not sound like her style at all, and the sword team were the ones that would fight the Creatures. So Sigyn ended up going With Spear to the South. And that way, she would also be With at least one jedi master, in case something went wrong. She made sure her spear were properly strapped to her back, then followed the others of team Spear to the South.

 

[Gherron Dragovalor]

Location: Landing zone
Objective: Round up Team Sword and head North
Equipment: Calm, Fury, Absolution, Nexu armor

Seoul. Gherron had never been here before, but then again he had never spent much time exploring the galaxy as he wanted to. That was hopefully soon to change though, once he started heading out the the order's pathfinders. He'd finally see more of the galaxy then. Those were thoughts for later though; he needed to focus. The people of Seoul needed the Silver Jedi's help, and he would be one of those spearheading a team himself. It was admittedly strange, being in a leadership position; he was mainly used to going off by himself, or being part of someone else's team and following orders. Not that he had a problem with orders. If it got the mission done with the least amount of casualties, that was all that mattered to him. Today though, he was the one they would be looking to. He needed to step up. He waited for a few minutes for others to arrive before calling out: "Team Sword, over here!"

 

[Maokai Bantam]

Location - Landing Zone​

Objective - SWORD - Head north, bring the law​

​

("Team Sword, over here!")

Maokai looked over from the transport that had just dropped him off, he saw a man dressed in what looks like black stealth armor. At his sides were two sabers and nice looking slug thrower. He carried himself with the air of a force master, but not full on Jedi. This was a good thing in his mind. The more force masters he studied the better he would understand the force.

"Deputy Bantam sir." Mako said has he walked over and held out his hand in friendship.

"So what is the plan Master...?"

[member="Gherron Dragonsflame"]

 

[Werewolf Command]

Name: Jai-Ryuk Hun​

Age: 19
Homeworld: Seoul
Rank: Second Lieutenant​

Occupation: Architecture Student, Veron Future Studies Institute
Cell: Seoul 6th Brigade, Werewolf​

Location: Civil Defence Bunker Gamma, Veron City​

​

The rich and acrid stench of smoke infused with the faintest hint of Ssi-Ruuk gas wafted through the vents. The air was already think, even now as flames licked the horizon of the city, the vast cityscape a blaze from the days of fighting. But that was not visible. At least not from Civil Defence Bunker Gamma. No, it was the screams, which now howled through the air which were of Second Lieutenant Jai-Ryuk Hun's notice. The lieutenant limped forward, as the men and women of Werewolf Sixth Brigade, Seoul marched the scum. The men, women and children of Gamma Bunker now needed to be taught what it meant to betray their betters and the vision Supreme Leader had gifted them. Lined up against the wall, a simple command was barked. “Fire!”

And a wave of blaster fire followed, before the bunkers elderly were silenced, their bodies crumpling to the ground, lifeless.. Their demise, not bought by the invader, or even by the plastoid white of stormtroopers. No. Werewolves. Attired in tan uniforms and a mix of civilian and fatigues, the Werewolves stood out against their comrades. Cold gazes, hardened by the weeks fighting, along with a sense of almost autonomous proprietary. Erect posture, and an unflinching brutality. Those who paused the procession were me with the swift kick of a rifles butt behind the head. “Clear the bodies, the children are next!”

A wave of shrieks pierced the air, as the mothers of the bunker as the children were forcibly stripped from their arms, and grasps. Rifles were waved, and the young of the bunker began to be herded to the far wall. “Enough!” A gruff, but desperate voice called. Jun scowled. The Captain had decided to pipe up. “This is madness! Absolute madness!” Jun turned to face her. The women growled from his post, restrained by two burly guards. “They’re innocent, please, let them go!” She was a slim figure. Her papers and uniform identified her as Captain Kayla Warf. Bespin born stormtrooper veteran and now Civil Defence Officer. She was technically in command of this shelter, and its security. Although the Werewolves dispatched the Stormtrooper guards before entry. Treason could not be tolerated.

Jun approached, heavy in step. Each one he took, a dull thud against the cold of the duracrete floor. The stump, all that remained of his left arm. He paused his approach meters from the officer. A scowl came over his features, as pus and snot dribbled from his nose. The Second Lieutenant was pale, unmistakably sick, but still was a firm and gaunt figure. “They must learn Captain.” The architecture student snapped, “To not go begging to our enemies for help.” He hissed. “To believe in Supreme Leaders final victory.” He scowled, “To understand the sacrifice we as a people must make.” Jun waved the crudely cauterised stump at her, pulling the sleeve up. It was poorly cauterised, flesh seeping pus. “We traced the signal, right to this bunker.” He drawled. Every word was a slow and laborious gesture, dripping in venom. “And now, our enemies have arrived to subvert Supreme Leader’s will.”

“There is no will, there is no victory!” Warf screamed, eyes bleary, “Please, you don’t have to do this, I’ll answer to you, but don’t let these people die!” She cried, “Please, just…” She collapsed, before immediately being hoisted onto her feet. “Don’t,” She pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. While she wore the uniform, it was creased. Messy. Her black bun, in tatters as sweat and tears ran down her cheeks. “I did it.” She whispered, “I called for help!” She cried out, “We need it, we cannot-!” Captain Warf was silenced by a slap from Jun. One upside the head.

“Traitor.” The Werewolf lieutenant hissed before continuing. “Fire.” A wave of blaster fire ended the whimpers and cries of the bunkers youth. Warf was silent, her form Gasping, and crying. “The men next.” Jun called, “Then we leave, let the women tend to their children.” Another scuffle erupted as the few able bodied men were now pulled up to the wall, and lined against. Some fought, saving themselves the spectacle with a few short rifle blasts, but those that didn’t? “Fire.” Jun then looked at the carnage, before back at Captain Warf, “Kim, Son,” he nodded at the two burly retainers who had kept Warf trapped. “Hang her, and clean the rest.”

“Werewolf Six!” The Second Lieutenant snapped, “Pack up and move. We are leaving.”

[member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Sigyn Vanir"]

 

[Laertia Io]

Wearing: Black Knight Chitin (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/143241-black-knight-chitin/)

Armed With: Constant Gardener (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/138535-constant-gardener/)

SynthBreaker (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/143244-synthbreaker/)

Dark Favor



She had been watching him for two weeks by this point. The teen had kept a meticulous journal of his habits, mannerisms, every little detail. Ursula Sandraven had relentlessly drilled into her head that knowing her enemy was essential. As essential as knowing herself. Unfortunately, only the name still eluded her, as well as his faction.

He had been holding down this spot for days, slowly corrupting the ancient grove he meditated in. All who faced him died. Their skins adorned and defiled the ancient markers laid here in ages past on Kashyyyk. She had followed him into the Shadowlands, armed with only her Shikomizue, the Atrisian Cane Sword. Its black sheath, pink orchids painted on it's hilt rested firmly in her hands, her spiky black jacket beaded with moisture as she journeyed deeper into thick forests shrouded in darkness, traveling towards something darker still.

Laertia, up to this point in her life as a Padawan, had trained with lightsabers, had learned how to build one, had sparred using one. But she had never killed an enemy that was armed with one. The teen, her black hair clinging to her scalp from the steam rising off the jungle floor, suddenly went slower as she came across blood in the grass and human faces pinned to the bark of trees. Wookiee pelts were also present. The smell of blood slinked up her nose as she crossed into the ancient grounds, the claw marks of wookiee's long dead, and the carvings of ancient Jedi who had discovered this place defaced with inkings depicting various Sith sigils.

He lay at the center of the ritual site, standing, his back turned. His armor, of an assymetric, segmented design, one arm completely encased in a series of black interlocking plates with gold sigils, slanted, and chevron-shaped, the other an exposed pale arm of muscle covered in a phrik vambrace only. His legs were covered in armorweave and the same type of interlocking plates. The chest plate jutted out to a fine point, as did the helmet, a thin red visor denotting where the eyes were. There was a gold embroidery pattern on the helmet. His helmet was lowered, holding a rusty, weathered looking lightsaber with both hands, the emitter pointed to the ground.

"You have traveled far..." the man in the black armor rasped. "I've heard so much about Ursula Sandraven and her Marksmen. But you...one of her new ones?" He asked, not turning to face her.

"Yorr wammpayge enndz heer."

The knight turned. "Your master must have great faith to send one so new after me. And without a lightsaber. You think you can beat me with that walking stick, girl?"

"I didn'tz wahlk intuh heer tuh yappz." The pale, gray eyed girl replied, shifting her footing, digging in a little, cane held loosely by her side. As the mist cleared she saw more gore in the stone-strewn ritual site, arranged almost artistically around candles. He had been doing something terrible here, whoever he was. She could figure out his name after he was a corpse.

He was burly and well muscled, so it wasn't a surprise he went into the Djem So opening stance, holding the blade out in front of him, pointed to her, keeping his feet in a firm stance, the red blade hissing out. Laertia did not move.

"The Force is strong with you, young one." He rasped, advancing, the hum of his lightsaber getting ever closer. Laertia remained still.

"A pity it will not have a chance to grow stronger..." the Sith Knight mocked sprinting towards her with Force-imbued speed. She drew her hidden sword at the last moment, swatting his blade aside with a flash of cortosis weave durasteel...



Laertia snapped out of the recall as she remembered where she was, on Seoul. There were quite a few people heading toward team Sword, and normally, she would have been heading for some good old hacking and slashing. But the Force, whatever it was--was directing her towards the spear team.

She had come down in the drop ship with the other, silent and clad in her nearly all black armor, the bright green of her visor and certain running lights on the armor breaking up the contours, a secondary, more refined, much simpler, but ultimately less protective then her other power armor. The last few magic shows had been good pay. She had managed to make enough to scramble together the materials. It had been a nightmare to forge though.

As she filed out of the drop ship with other Jedi and some republic troops , she pulled out her crossguard lightsaber, activating it and the green blades erupted, unstable like her physical health. She could see this had been a First Order planet. She disliked it already. She had never met First Order before making The Gardener. She had afterward. First one hadn't lasted long, nor had the second. This was basically her first encounter with them since coming out of retirement.

Laertia did not take long, telling what soldiers had come in her drop ship to follow her while she headed south to link up with [member="Coren Starchaser"] and [member="Sigyn Vanir"]. She kept alert for signs of attack. Apparently the ones they were going after were nasty sorts. She could see murdered civilians everywhere in the burning city. First Order hadn't changed. Still the same type of thug she used to stab to death on Nar Shaddaa: The "Protection Racket" Thug. Don't pay the "protection"? You get burned with your place of residence. She singled those types out for killing when she was a thug. Laertia was no one's bankroll.

And if there was anything Laertia detested, it was a thug putting bolts in innocent people. She wasn't clean...she'd been up to her neck in crime before she was recruited, but that was from stealing. Any kills had only ever been against other, less scrupulous thugs.

Some things never change, if today was any example.

Laertia spotted Coren in the distance. Her original impression was that he'd put more than his share of people in the dirt. She was actually rather eager to see him in battle...apparently he'd seen action during the fall of the galactic alliance, and a good deal before that. Laertia had been too busy trying to keep her rabbits fed and her starship running. But that was before Ursula's request.

Laertia loved her rabbits and her caretaker was a pal...but...she was still a fighter. And she disliked standing back and letting greedy thugs have their way and killing younglings before their time. It was the strategem of an organized band of savages, not a society. But Laertia, despite a considerable intelligence, lacked the ability to articulate this sentiment beyond 'Slash Slash Die Jerk Die', due to both her speech impediment, which embarrassed her to this day when trying to talk to another Jedi, as well as an ingrained distaste for philosophy, which The Black Knight of Nar Shaddaa viewed as mere words and theory.

Laertia sensed a bolt from a building seventy meters away, a score of dead women and children in the path between her and the building far away in the burning street. She deflected the bolt, spotted the glint of a scope and teleported with great effort all the way up to the inside of the window the shot came from. There was a scream, a flash of green and Laertia teleported back to her prior location, breathing hard. The suit allowed her to use the force even during migraines, as well as greatly reducing their pain, it cost way more effort than normal. She had known that would be the case, but it was still jarring for her teleportation to tire her out like this...she usually felt almost nothing.

Ah well...better to take a hit in power if it meant being able to fight. Being a Jedi wasn't about power...it was how you got the job done...

Laertia planned to do her job.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Luther Ando, Deserter
Equipment: Deathtrooper Armour [Damaged], Maser Rifle, Stun Baton
Location: Seoul 5 - Abandoned Apartment Complex
| [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] | [member="Sigyn Vanir"] | [member="Gherron Dragonsflame"] | [member="Maokai Bantam"] | [member="Werewolf Command"] | [member="Laertia Io"] |

​

“Ando report! We’re losing connec-” the voice cut off as Luther’s foot came down for a second time, hearing a satisfying *crunch* as the commlink was crushed under his boot. With the chatter in his ear gone he was free to hear the noise around him, sounds that make his stomach churn and heave. Screams and blaster fire, this would be the audience to his desertion.

He shuffled forward, heedless of the heavy armour he wore. Old and damaged, he had found his former uniform was now too much for him. It had been designed for a much stronger and capable version of Luther, not the desk jockey he’d been in the last few months. The black plate had kept him alive so far at least, but it wouldn’t take him much further. He needed to find an escape.

He roused himself from his thoughts, stepping over towards the body of a stormtrooper. Luther’s powered fist had left a large dent in the soldier’s helmet, but the man was still breathing. He stripped the equipment from the trooper, focusing on grabbing rations and supplies. He did this twice more with another pair of incapacitated soldiers, before slinging the large pack over his shoulder. He left the unconscious soldiers on the ground floor and continued up the staircase. His team had made base in an abandoned apartment complex; holding off Ssi-Ruuvi forces until reinforcements arrived. When there was a lull in the fighting, he’d called for back-up. Upon hearing that there would be none, he made up his mind and sealed his fate as a traitor.

His legs gave up around halfway up the building, sending him sprawling back down the flight of stairs. He swore loudly as he came to a stop, wincing as new bruises on his body made themselves known. “Not now” he whispered, despair and desperation mixed in his voice. “Please, I need more time”.

A minute passed, but eventually the numbness in his legs faded. His calves trembled violently as he rose, but he managed to continue up the stairs until he reached the roof. He flopped to the ground, breathing heavily as he sat on the smooth concrete. From here he could see most of the surrounding area. Skirmishes had broken out all around the city, the sound of blaster fire was an ever-present cacophony that assaulted his ears. His vantage point gave a good view of Bunker Gamma as well as-

“Sithspit” Luther swore. There were unfamiliar corvettes entering through the atmosphere and landing nearby, right in the direction he’d plan to make his escape. Still cursing, he got down low and drew the maser from his back. He adjusted the focus and tried to get a view on the newcomers.

“Who do we have here?”

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Through his weapon's scope, [member="Luther Ando"] would see Team Shield beneath, of all things, a shield. The bubble enclosure sheltered a busy worksite of prefab medical suites and relatively modest defences. Some of Team Shield's Jedi had gone twitchy or tried for stony watchfulness. Quill kept doing his job alongside the droids, mostly with power tools.

He had a fairly compressed timeline to work with. Soon enough, Teams Sword and Spear would begin sending back the needy and the wounded. A few other Jedi healers might show up, and the surrounding ships came with a few medical droids of various types. He'd spent most of the trip co-opting them and their supplies to his cause, because Team Shield looked a little thin.

At minimum, if he kept on busting his back for this, the landing zone would have a somewhat-hardened somewhat-functional medcentre before anyone needed it. Or rather, needed it in bulk. A place like this, in a sector that had seen this much violence, always had sick and wounded to help. Every once in a while he caught a flicker of a silhouette watching from the nearest buildings, which weren't all that near. A place like this could become a target, and that could cause wariness. Would needy locals take the chance and come for help, or keep skulking? No way to tell.

 

[Garza]

Objective Sword: Be a Sword
Nearby:[member="Maokai Bantam"], [member="Gherron Dragonsflame"],

Sword, Shield, Spear, all generic names for operations that were taking place, but sure. It worked. Though like I could come up with anything better for this. As much as I would have liked to face normal beings, there were last reports about "something strange in the neighborhood." Something to do with Zombies, or beings who were mutated to stupid degrees. I could care less, but since I had dealt with them before, exploring an undead floating ship in space. Cliche kind of scenario. Still, I wasn't really dressed up to fight. Just a nice suit piece, boots, and a saber. Nothing special. Just the Yellow saber that my father had given to me as a child.

Sword was called out by a familiar face. Gherron was a student and a friend of my father. Strangely enough, My father is much older than he, and I was more around his age. I neglected to remember the difference, but it was close from what I remember. Walking over to him, It seemed to be that he would be leading this Sword, and taking front man. Fine with me. A simple nod thrown at his direction as the rest of us were getting in. Waiting to learn and understand what kind of plan this man had.

"Call it Cap'in"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The teams were arriving and Coren Starchaser was starting to feel better. The man was doing what he could to unite the light side teams, much in the way the Alliance had. Now, though, it was not a matter of states and governments, it was a matter of survival. For all the First Order was a mess and the antithesis of what Starchaser stood for, they were a strong military power and without them, countless worlds were at risk, and that was why the team was assembled.

“We’ve got to make sure that when the rest of the landers get here, we’re ready to go. I don’t want to flirt with the Ssi-Ruuvi, and whatever nightmares the Order made here.” He looked at the redheaded Valkyri that had joined his unit. He was glad to have people he wasn’t recognizing working with him. It meant the task and what he was shouting about for years was sinking in.

Getting the fight out there.

“You sure you’re ready for this, Vanir?” Starchaser asked, more with a grin, and just making sure she didn’t want to head north yet. He knew that there were foes to the South, and he could sense them. “We’re going to be running into a lot of foes, we need to keep them focused on us, and not on the non-combatants.” Stepping forward, the man fell into the Force, looking for anything that was coming at them.

The Force would protect everyone here.

[member="Laertia Io"]
[member="Sigyn Vanir"]

​

 

[Sigyn Vanir]

The teams had now formed, but were smaller than Sigyn had anticipated when she first heard of the mission. They were not small, in that regard, Sigyn had just thought they would be bigger. But the size wouldn't matter, it was their determination and skills that would make them win. And from the looks of it, there were lots to be found.

AS [member="Coren Starchaser"] spoke up, Sigyn came closer to listen. His first comment made her chuckle slightly, but only because Coren said he didn't want to flirt With the Ssi-Ruuvi. The rest was pretty serious. AS the man asked if she was ready, she drew her spear from its holster on her back, holding it ready. "I hail from Midvinter, master. There is never a time when I'm not ready," was her reply. Though she wasn't very skilled With the force yet, she had fought and trained all her life. When it came to combat, she was always ready.

[member="Werewolf Command"] | [member="Laertia Io"]

 

[Gherron Dragovalor]

Location: Landing zone
Objective: Into the trenches with Team Sword
Equipment: Calm, Fury, Absolution, Nexu armor
Team: [member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Maokai Bantam"] | Assorted NPC's


Gherron reached over and shook the hand of the first man to answer his call, one introducing himself as Deputy Bantam. A deputy, interesting..

"Dragonsflame. Gherron Dragonsflame", he replied to Bantam's implied question. "So, you heard the man, there's a bunch of weird stuff out there. I've fought Sith spirits and wraiths before, and trust me when I say you don't wanna get too close to them." He nodded at [member="Zephyr Carrick"] as he approached. He recognized the man, if only faintly. A few seconds rolled by until he realized that he bore a striking resemblance to Xander, a good friend of his. His hand quickly went to the gorgodon tusk around his neck in memory. They would have to exchange some words before this was over. Finally recovering from his brief trance, he nodded to himself to regain his bearing.

"Right. So I imagine there'll be a lot more of those reptilian bastards than wraiths, so they're gonna be our main focus. It's likely they'll have taken people to do with as they please, or as hostages, so we need to be careful. I've never dealt with these ssi-ruuk before, but i've heard they're nasty little things. Unpredictable and dangerous, despite their size. If you do catch yourself in the sights of a wraith though, call for backup. Even if you think you know what you're doing. I've seen what they could do... And it's not pretty." He had in face seen what they could do. His mind went to Korriban again, when he had almost chocked to death on the smog the spirit gave off. Had it not been for Vulps, he'd have been dead.

As he had continued talking, he noticed that more joined around him, forming a small crowd. Nodding in approval, he pointed north to the entrance of one of a few small trenches. "Our team will be heading down these trenches in search of ssi-ruuk hunting parties. Be vigilant, don't let them flank you, and call out anything out of the ordinary. Let's move out."

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

FORTIFIED LANDING ZONE
MEDCENTRE
TEAM SHIELD

You were never really 'done' setting up prefab buildings. There were always leftover bolts. At some point, though, you pronounced it all good enough and got to work at whatever you'd built the building for. Today that meant medical triage.

A young man with an old-fashioned Padawan braid poked his head and braid through the door. "Master Quill, overwatch says there's a small group of locals on the way. Family with children, possible medical needs. Five or ten minutes."

"Our first catch of the day," Quill said, as if they were commanding Star Destroyers here. "Which way? This is tough terrain. Close or not, they could probably use some escort."

"Northwest. Are you going, Master?"

Quill looked around the empty medcentre in a big obvious gesture, and shrugged. "Might as well go to the patients where they are. I feel like I should."

The Padawan blinked. "Is the Force guiding you?"

"No idea. I'm just talking about common decency, so...yes, maybe." Quill shouldered a small portable shield generator and a medkit. "Keep doing what you're doing," he said, and headed out.

 

[Laertia Io]

The Sith Knight swiped at her but Laertia was patient. She avoided or teleported away out of his strikes. She studied his technique, his armor, noting the gaps, the angle she would need to aim the blade through to reach his heart. Her sword remained sheathed. The mist from the forest went up to their needs, the moisture coming into contact with the blade the sith held, causing an aura of steam to enshroud it at irregular intervals. Laertia remained still, absolutely still. He tried to Force Choke her, but Laertia called on her own connection to resist the telekinetic grip, and rather then feel the black out, neck breaking pressure he surely intended, Laertia felt only a tight grip but not enough to close her wind pipe, allowing her to breath with effort, heaving in air to compensate, watching him struggle, trying to suspend her in the air and failing. He ceased the choke attempt, clearly winded. Laertia felt her neck relax.

"Such resistance...I usually don't see that outside of Terentateks." The knight remarked. "What are you, with your Atrisian sword and your and underworld accent?"

Laertia didn't answer, refused to let him bait her into a conversation. For his part, he had stopped trying to close the distance and now simply waited with his blade held out.

"You will have to attack at some point, little one..." The Knight said, voice enhanced by the systems in his helmet.

Laertia was waiting, she shifted, starting to approach, slowly and deliberately, ready to draw the straight, single edged blade, a plan of attack formed.

"Its different isn't it?" The Sith taunted, giving a one handed flourish. "Knowing the slightest mistake will result in death. So many train to fight Sith. Few survive their first encounter."

Laertia said nothing to him. Any attack she made would be an attempt to kill him instantly on the first try. Another two inches moving forward. Another half inch. Stop. Trust in the Force. Wait for it...

The lunge came low, then swung upward, trying to catch her offguard. She swatted aside the red blade with her undrawn sword, at the last moment, the sheath also being lined with cortosis weave. She relied on her training in Soresu to aid in dispersing the kinetic energy of his attacks through a clever combination of precise dodging and feinting him into thinking she was going to attack, forcing him to withdraw at the last moment before trying to strike.

But she knew she could not keep this up forever and they both knew it. He was strong and experienced. Even with her advanced knowledge of lightsaber combat from training, she was barely keeping ahead of increasingly cautious, well thought out attacks.

But the proper way to fight a Force adept, any Force adept, is patience. Patience can save a thousand unnecessary injuries born of haste. Or fell a Republic from within.

She would attack on her terms, not his.

The Sith angled his saber at her. "You've lasted longer than the others. But your sword is inferior to a lightsaber. How many more strikes do you suppose it can withstand?"

Laertia gave no reaction to his words. The Sith felt a stillness in him suddenly, a whisper from the Dark Side telling him that the Jedi had sent him a deadly foe, which he had slowly been growing to realize.

Most Padawans, they banter, and joke, and get cocky. These types die quickly.

She wasn't one of those types. Despite how much like a common criminal she looked, her poise was professional and controlled. It was clear this wasn't her first time trying to kill someone.

Her stance changed, raising the undrawn sword cane high over her head, its point facing behind her.

The Sith smiled under his helm. He knew her plan. She would draw him into an attack and fake a strike, only to draw the sword and attack. That was how her particular type of swordsmanship from Atrisia functioned. But he had spotted her game, knew her intent. He was prepared. When she drew he would hold back at the last moment and then pass through her swipe and behead her.

"Your end draws near, Jedi..."

Laertia's gaze remained steely. Her body was as still as a statue. The street had taught her never to screw around. Kill and be done with it.

The Jedi way was conductive to this viewpoint. What use was it to talk or gloat. A call for surrended was reasonable, but after defiling this grove with the skins of his victims, some of whom she saw to be mere padawans, she doubted there was any persuading him. Yeah, feth that. He was leaving this place in a body bag.

Laertia felt the tug of the Force, Letting her know the next few moments would decide it all. She placed her trust in it, as her training dictated. She was a conduit, its scalpel to cut out this blight in a beautiful land.

The Sith adjusted his stance. He too could prepare. He went into a Juyo stance and charged, using his hatred of all Jedi and his irritation at her unsettling refusal to speak to enhance his speed and strength. He would use the assured strike technique after he dodged her sword. This victory was his, like all the others. He would finish corrupting this place, and plant a little root of the dark in a haven of light to poison the area with death and hate.

Laertia remained absolutely still as he came near, closing at near superhuman speed. It was time. She concentrated.

The Sith felt alarm as some sort of telekinesis tried to enshroud him. Ensnare him. He had no experience, trying to counter it. It was like trying to move through molasses. It wasn't a dark side power. He would have felt it. But it had its desired effect, it slowed him down sooner than he intended, his blade in position right under her undrawn sword, which came down like a dead weight, smacking it hard into the wet grassy soil, which threw off his balance as Laertia, sword still undrawn, drove the termination point of the sheath through the large red visor with little more than primitive brute strength, going straight through his eye, and punching into his brain, killing him instantly. He tumbled to the side of her, slack and unmoving, the cane still buried in his brain.

Laertia stared at her handiwork, and yanked her weapon out of his skull, retrieving his rusted, weathered lightsaber also. It was strange to her, even now, being able to sense emotion, how it actually felt. She felt traces of his hate. That would not do.

Laertia dragged the corpse out of the grove, and gathered what remains she could find of her comrades and burned them. Then she knealt at the center and began to meditate, letting the light flow through her to start cleansing the place, opening a panel to the saber's crystal chamber and took a vial out of her pocket, filled with a chemical mixture she had developed. She dripped it onto the red crystal within and beganto focus on the darkness in that crystal and then the ritual site itself.

But her trials were not over. Another opponent waited in the darkness of the woods, biding their time as Laertia released all doubt and stress, all worry. She had survived. She didn't get what the Force was, or what it's angle was, but she didn't mind surviving...



Laertia at last arrived with her own motley collection of soldiers to protect as [member="Coren Starchaser"] laid out the plan. With how nasty it was out her Form One would come in exceptionally handy.

Laertia tried not to speak too often because her speech impediment never stopped finding new ways to humiliate her in front of her peers, especially when she wanted or needed to be taken seriously. [member="Sigyn Vanir"] also spoke of her readiness. It would have been odd if she didn't give vocal acknowledgement herself.

"Jusst leed mee too duh skullz annd I'll kwackz emm fer yooz..." Laertia spoke quickly and as clearly as she could, self concious suddenly and her mind falling back on her pet rabbits to keep her calm before the fight. She could hardly wait to be in a genuine scrape again, yet could not help but feel some sense of regret her civilian life seemed to be...on the wane...

Laertia dreaded the day no one would come to her shows, because she didn't think many of her skills were marketable beyond war and crime. Moya and the magic act and the rabbits were the only sources of innocence left to her. She needed those things, else she woulld have only the sword, and if she had only the sword that would be a life not worth breathing. But she could not cast off the violence in her. Maybe when she got older, a little more broken and it was time to pass on what she knew, but for now this was her niche...

[member="Werewolf Command"]

 

[Zak Amroth]

LANDING ZONE​

TEAM SHIELD​

​

"They're coming out of the walls!"

Zak pitched forward onto his face, startled from a drunken stupor after sensing movement nearby. The deafening roar of shuttle engines had barely roused him, but a presence like [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] was the psychic equivalent of a spotlight being shined in his eyes. Wiping the mud off his brow, the half-kiffar stumbled back up to his feet and snapped off a smart salute.

"Sheriff Amroth reporting for duty, sir!" he shouted, wincing through the hangover, "What's the situation? Rakghoul horde? Return of the Emperor? Wampa attack?"

Feeling suddenly self conscious in front of the Jedi Master, Zak drew his hand cannon and started spinning it around his hand in a display of machismo. After a series of convoluted arcs across his palm, the Judge finished with a flourish but botched the holster. Stabbing futilely into thin air several times, he glanced down in shame and finally secured the sidearm.

"I'm here to serve," removing his wide brimmed hat, he adopted a somber expression of faux sincerity, "For the children, you see."