Invasion Technologic | SO Invasion of GA Held Woostri - Objective One

[Garza]

Objective 1: Destruction
Tags: Anyone who wants to try... good luck.

"Clear! Hatch is sealed!"
"Checks sound off."
"Fuel, check."
"Shields, check."
"Engines, check."
"Titan, check."

The man looked at the massive vessel that was being suspended into the air. Just the sheer awe in such a marvel of technology just for one being. It was like dropping a bomb to release a god. Unsure if opening it would be akin to Pandora's box. Would it be destruction, or salvation to the conflict. His hand shaking as it hovered over the switch. The flashing light pulsing slowly in and out with its enticing green glow. Unsure if he should release this... thing. Yet, as those thoughts came, a massive shadow loomed over him. A presence that filled his mind with an ancient and dark foe. Almost as if the abyss itself peered into his very soul and spoke to him without uttering a word. There was no other way to prevent this. A final breath as his hand slammed on the release. Dropping the pod to the surface.

"Titanfall incoming!" he yelled to the others. Praying to whatever gods there were that this wasn't a mistake.

​

The pod fell through the atmosphere. Stealth systems active to prevent detection for the moment. The ship plummeted down to the planet. Racing like an asteroid to wipe out all life on the planet. Spinning like a bullet to keep trajectory as the flames left a tail kilometers long. Anyone close to the surface could see the bright light of the drop pod screaming through the air. Sonic booms became one as it broke that barrier. Not sounding like a snap, or an explosion, but a roar of speed in which this pod plummeted. While the cargo within was secure and protected. Screaming down into the waters. Splashing with a wave to rival tsunamis.

Any kind of onlooker to the landing was met with silence at the distance. Only for a roar to escape even through the waves. A burst of blue plasma lancing out from the water. Followed by the sight of a god long forgotten.

Rising to the surface, the creature looked to be small from the distance. However, anyone with eyes could see that this was not some small creature. But one of immense size that happened to be a far distance away. The body rising above the water as though it could walk across the surface. A deity in all but name.

The massive creatures head turned to the fortifications that would be the defensive measures and top mounted guns used to defend the planet of Woostri. The peering blue eyes just looked over to it as the water from the crash seemed to cause an unnatural rain.

The target was locked. And there was no stopping it now.

​

Garza, the ancient and likely longest living Sith Spawn, Inari, Father of Titans, Prized child of the Empress, Lord of Girth and Destruction landed upon the planet. His snarl widening into an almost animalistic, demonic smile. His form dropping into the oceans and seas. His form moved fast despite its size. The water was his domain. His expansive will. The spines jutting out of the waves as an omen of the impending sequences of what shall transpire. Any kind of sensor system would pick up his massive form. Showing up as though it were a massive submersible. Yet moving at speeds not possible for such a thing.

Garza, was here for one thing. To bring this fight to its end. Whatever way possible.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery felt the hammer before she saw it. The force behind it was immense, a weapon designed not just to injure, but to break, to destroy. It carved through the air like a falling star, aimed with lethal precision — except it never touched her. Because Valery was already moving.

She didn't sidestep. She didn't brace. She let it pass through her. For an instant, her form flickered like a mirage, reality itself bending around her as the hammer cut through empty space where she had stood only moments before. The moment stretched, silent, and then the weapon was gone— sailing behind her, likely crashing into something else with a thunderous impact.

Her attention never wavered.

Her fiery gaze had already locked onto Allyson.

The betrayal sat heavy in her chest, colder than the steel of a blade. She had trusted her. She had fought beside her, bled beside her, learned from her. She had believed in her, once. And now? Now Allyson was doing what she always did — hiding in the dark, pulling the strings, making herself a ghost on the battlefield.

It hurt. But Valery didn't have time for that.

"Kahlil!" Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "We need to work together! I know how she fights!" She didn't need to say more. Kahlil might have known Allyson, but Valery had fought alongside her for a long time. She knew the way Allyson moved, the way she played the field like a gambler holding a stacked deck. She knew how Shadows fought because she had been one too.

And she wasn't going to let Allyson disappear.

As Kahlil's Light-infused rune erupted across the battlefield, Valery surged forward, the glow reflecting in her amber eyes. There — a shimmer in the air, subtle but there. A tell. She landed right by the rune, and the moment her boots hit the ground, she let the Force explode outward. A massive concussive wave detonated from her position, a telekinetic shockwave that tore across the battlefield like a storm. The floor trembled, debris was sent flying, machinery groaned against the sudden force of it. Everything moved.

Gerwald would be hopefully be kept back, maybe even sent off-balance. Allyson? She hopefully wouldn't be able to stay hidden now, forced to tap into the Force to evade, block or avoid. And the second she did, Valery would see or feel her, and so would Kahlil. She slid to a halt, feet grounding, breath steady, the violet glow of her saber cutting through the flickering emergency lights.

"You can't hide from me, Allyson," she called out, her voice low, steady, but not without something raw beneath it. Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

"Just come out and face me." But despite this focus on finding the Shadow, she knew better than to ignore Gerwald. For now, Valery trusted her husband to aid in her protection.

Kahlil Noble
Gerwald Lechner Allyson Locke ​

 

[Darth Meritum]

"Gather those still alive and get control of some of these guns. Turn them on the ships in orbit. Our Master has hastened the time table.", Gerwald Lechner called back to him through the earpiece.​

​

In other words, Empyrean was getting impatient. That was his only thought as he ran directly towards a Jedi who melted into the light. Almost instantly, Darth Meritum pulled his lightsaber from his waist, into his hand with the force, and activated it with one fluid motion. His heart quickened, his body tensed and readied itself for a strike, all while his eyes opened wide to see his mark.​

​

It was his undoing.​

​

Dust broke into his vision and forced his eyes to sting, only to be followed by a blinding light. It didn't help that the dust was reflective: every single piece caused an explosion of further light. He cried out from the surprise, the pain, the assault on the senses and brought himself to a complete stop. He heard and felt the lightsabers come to life before him while one hand desperately tried to clear his vision. It was no use; he already felt the blood dripping from them.​

​

The blades came at him in a skilled, vibrant flurry. Darth Meritum was not all that special; he did not have a named blade feared by his enemies, or even the concentrated strength of reputation. No, Darth Meritum only knew how to survive, and it never earned him accolades: only another day. The first strike was parried away, the second narrowly missing his chin as he leaned away. The Force allowed him to fight even without sight, but it didn't make this any easier with a Jedi already known to hide themselves from his senses.​

​

More than that, he needed to deal with this quickly to assist his men.​

​

He lowered himself, reached with his free hand for a piece of the Jedi's clothing, then moved to strike. Grabbed or not, he would use the Force to drive himself upwards from a squat, forcing the hardest part of his head directly into the nose of his opponent. Violent, quick, unexpected: Darth Meritum hoped the Jedi would think he might back up, not drive forward. If even for a moment, he needed to regain his footing.​

​

Braze Kai'el​

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

Darth Meritum's grip found purchase on a thick fold of cloth—the Kama draped over the small Jedi's attire. The instant he tugged, he could tell—light, and small. But as he surged forward, expecting to bowl the Jedi over, he met something far sturdier than anticipated. His forehead collided against the unyielding helmet of the Light Armor encasing the Jedi's skull.

For a fleeting moment, he might have mistaken Braze for a tiny Mandalorian—small, but fierce, armored, and relentless. The clang of impact rang between them, a jarring collision of bone and reinforced plating.

Seizing the opening, Braze utalized Sentry —snapping it into position in an attempt to trap the Sith's saber between its three prongs. Simultaneously, he drew back his primary weapon, Requiem , and drove it forward in a sharp, precise slash towards the offending hand.

Braze was faster. More than that—he was vicious.

As Darth Meritum pressed his attack, a leg coiled around his own, the Jedi's heel blade aimed at slicing toward the vulnerable flesh behind his knee. The intent was clear—disable, not kill—but the ferocity with which Braze fought made it apparent that escape was not an option he was going to give the man easily.

Then came the counterstrike.

Without hesitation, the tiny Jedi slammed his helmeted head forward, repaying the earlier blow with equal force. The fight seemed to have devolved into a vicious grapple. Braze refused to relent or shy away from further entanglement. If Meritum thought he could shake free, he was sorely mistaken.

Braze wasn't going to let go. Not so easily.

​

Gear

Sabers:
Training lightsaber [Normal] |
Gauntlet Shield [Katar + Shield] |
Corsage [Dueling Foil +Gun] |
Calypso [Hand an a half + Board Saber] |
Sentry [Parrying Dagger] |
Requiem [Light Foil] |
Echo [Two handed with Crossguard] |
Resurgence [Two handed with Crossguard] |
Whirlwind [Chin Kama] |
Twilight [Polearm] |
Nightshade [Throwing Knives]
Hot 'n' Heavy Compensator [ War Maul]
Troublemaker's Trickblade [Dual Spinning Saber / Chakram]
Voice of the Wind Krysteel Sword

Crystals:
Amplification |
Serenity |
Phantom Ghostfire |
Frostheart |
Entropite |
Tiger's Fang |
Mindshatter |
Echos |
Mestare |
Melee: Knife

Ranged:
Fang |
G.O.O. Gun |
Phantom |
Chiru Tranquilizer Rifle|
FFS- Quiver Trigger - Grip / Stock |
FFS- I. S.P.Y. : Scope |
FFS- H.A.R.M. - Shroud

Thowing :
BA-K177 Kamino Saberdarts X15
E.G.G.S. x10 |
Thermal detonator (Class-A thermal detonator) x5 |
G-20 Glop grenade "Impact" x5 |
C-22 fragmentation grenade x5 |
WW-41 CryoBan grenade) X5
Telescopic stun grenade staff
Serenity Flashbang Incense


Equipped Gear:
Neck: Lightveil Circlet | Charms x3 | Amulate |
Chest: Light Armor [Integrated in to armor | Boots | Gauntlets | Mask/Helm | ]
Belt: FFS- Utility Belt
Left Hand: Compass Ring | BCA - Solid State Hologram Tool Band

Other Items:
Survival Kit |
FSP - Besh ( Advanced Force Suppression Drug )
Sil-Alert Stim
Trauma Care Package
Trauma Kit
Trauma Spray
Aspha Serum
TS-N Healing Serum (For those allergic to Bacta)
Reanimation Serum Aurek
PharmaTech BioStamp
PharmaTech DNA Identi-Kit
Bota M9-A2: Berries
FFS-RIP-Cell: Power Cell |
Vixen's Vault |
In the Zone Compact, Mister, and Lipstick|
Essence of Zeltros DUST Compact|
Lekkuphoira|
S.I.N. Devaronian Blood-Poison Nail Polish|
5 Lbs bag of Thermite |

Ships:
Ashwing - Starfighters
Phantomray Stealth Assault Interceptor Fitted with Werlaara Stealth Suite

Warmount:
Dragon Knight

Guardian:
AX-01 Vanguard Mark I
[Character Bio]

​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Monstrous power oozed from Lirka, and she felt more alive than she ever had before. She felt like a girl again, a marauder turning the Force to her weapon in the arenas, forging a path of bloodshed and broken bodies to stand among the strong. It was ecstasy, like the best of Spice. She was bound to her master, she felt his being merged with hers. The Carnal Union that would Shepard her path to power.

As Caelan Valoren uttered that foul word “Slave”, she snarled: a bestial thing from razored fangs, always slave. That is what they called her. That is all they could see, they didn’t understand the Galaxy like she did: this is was power, the Strong took and they used. Lirka was a user, Carnifex was a user. That was their bond, that drew them together across galaxies. They used each other, the hand and the lash. The one who offered power and the one who destroyed.

Lirka’s eyes widen as she watched the Jedi’s limb vanish from her burst. She had never done anything quite like that before, and it solidified in her twisted mind the love she held for Darth Carnifex the love for the bountiful power he had offered unto her. The Dark Side raged an inferno around her presence as she leapt to continue her attack, blade in hand.

Then she was blinded.

The light blasted her being, and the connection to her kin disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The dark side vanished, and all that remained was a void. Like she had always been, a foul repugnant creature made from the machinations of men and not the Force. She was thankful to be a monster of tubes and vats instead of alchemy and sorcery: it allowed her to not evaporate on the spot. Instead, Lirka fell to the floor in a clambering mess.

She laid there, breathing heavy. A weak, pathetic thing. Slowly did her helm raise, the mechanization of her voice was gone. And a repentant woman called out to the King, her voice hoarse and confused.

“Jedi…what have I done?”

Lifetimes flashed before her eyes as they adjusted after the blast, men killing and dying around them. But they would the calm, the eye of the storm. Perhaps…light could overcome the Dark.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

The blast of the Light changed everything.

The connection she had to the one who gave her power disappeared in an instant, blown away by the power he had unleashed upon her. It left her a mess upon the floor, clambering about, trying to gain purchase. The purpose, the goal of her existence, seemed to have been stripped from her as well, as she spoke to him, wondering at what she had done. Her voice, repentant, hoarse, less than it had been only moments before when she'd been reliant and confident in the strength of the other, of this Kaine she spoke of.

He lowered his blade in regard to her, though kept it at the ready given there was still combat going on surrounding them. Battle raged between Alliance and Sith forces, though it seemed neither of their grunts were particularly interested in dealing with their champions.

"What you were made to do, I believe," he responded as he walked toward her. "Loyalty is an admirable quality, but when that loyalty is fanatical it leads you to lose yourself."

He reached down and took her sword from her good hand after clipping his lightsaber to his belt. Even though she seemed repentant, it could well be a ploy, and he didn't want her trying to stab him in the back as he tried to help her. And yes, he fully intended to try and help her. He could think of ways to do so, ways in which she could get out of this monstrosity of a body she lived within. Ways that could return her to some semblance of a real life. If that was what she wanted.

Reaching his arm beneath her good arm, if she allowed, he would lift her to her feet and allow her to lean against him.

"Why don't we see about getting you out of here and somewhere you can get some real help?"

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Darth Meritum]

In his blindness, Meritum had seemed to make a misstep. It didn't matter if the Force allowed him to hit harder, faster, or with more protection. The reality was he had just head butted durasteel, and it split his scalp in twain. Blood rushed from it, like any wound to the head, but he was not stunned by it; a headbutt is given with purpose, and the cost of it is always calculated into its effect.​

​

Braze Kai'el was relentless in spite of it. Like many, they had carried with them a full armory that Meritum could not predict or counter simply. There was no way to tell just how much the Jedi had taken with him or not, but Meritum had to assume more than a few weapons, more than a few grenades, and more than a few utility items meant to counter him and his every step. It was common now for people to rely too heavily on what they bought and not what they learned.​

​

But the Jedi was doing too much. All at once he had tried to lock Meritum's blade, strike his hand with a slash of his lightsaber, lifted a leg to cut the back of his knee, and launch a headbutt of his own. Too much to force on a Sith Lord: despite the relatively unknown nature of Darth Meritum, he was still that much.​

​

He pulled his hand away from the blade faster than Blaze could strike it, adjusted his knee to the side with a shift of his weight to allow the blade to clear, then pressed his other hand against the Jedi's chest plate. It wasn't as much a Force Push as it was a Force Clap - carefully orientated to allow the heel blade to miss as the Jedi would be forced on their single leg to compensate for the strike.​

​

Perhaps they didn't want to separate, but the Jedi thought himself more dexterous and violent than a Sith. A Sith who was old was a thing in their own right, for Sith rarely were allowed to make it into old age. The enduring Voice of the Emperor was an old man, venerable, but not so old as to lose his touch. He used the force to rip his lightsaber back the second after he had moved to launch the Jedi backwards - igniting it in a red haze as he cut a nearby coolant line.​

​

Tibanna gas flooded the hallway, making his lack of vision mutual. He allowed his red blade to retract, then listened.​

​

Braze Kai'el​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka’s mind raced, everything was foggy. It was like a piece of herself had been lost, some primal connection to her lord who she had served for nearly a whole human lifespan had been severed. And Lirka was alone again, a lost girl stumbling her way through a cruel and heartless Galaxy.

Her lenses looked up to acknowledge Caelan Valoren before her. She expected the blade to come down, to sever her head from her neck. It was what the Sith would have done to a weakened foe. Merciless, cruel, but the strike never came. And perhaps for once in Lirka Ka’s long life…she wasn’t alone.

Her voice muttered out, pondering and quiet.

“What I was made to do…”

Lirka didn’t know what she was made to do anymore, so long had she devoted herself to Carnifex’s dominion. He spoke of loyalty and she did not answer, had she really wasted her loyalties to monsters? Allowed her body to put under the knife and become the freakish thing she was today?

“I don’t think I know what I was made to do anymore, master Jedi.”

She allowed him to pick her up, she was like a sack of rocks. All heavy metal plates and a woman inside that struggled to stand, an old woman lost and confused.

“And here I thought the kindness of Jedi was just a myth…yes master Jedi. That would be appreciated…this body needs bacta to keep itself together.”

She chucked softly, weakly. Constant bacta, proof of her unnatural existence. And all Lirka could do now was ponder in her hazy state, what was her purpose?

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

​

Meritum was seasoned—Braze could see that much. The Sith Lord carried himself with the certainty of one who had not only survived but thrived in a galaxy that devoured its own. A rarity. An anomaly. But even old wolves had to bite down on steel sometimes.

He couldn't afford to give leverage—not to an enemy like this. The Sith didn't need much; a single hesitation, a fraction of doubt, and they would carve into it like a blade into bone. Any moment surrendered to feeling was too much advantage given by an uncertain hand.

Braze had learned that lesson well. Darth Carnifex had made sure of it.

The Sith's calculation was clean, but Braze wasn't an overeager Jedi padawan with a compensating need to rely entirely on trinkets to counter his opponents. No, he was something far worse for Meritum. He was adaptive.

The clap of Force against his chest was a tactical decision; it wasn't an overwhelming blast meant to send him careening, just enough to disrupt balance. Maybe Meritum thought that was enough. Maybe he believed Braze would reel, fumble, struggle for footing.

He didn't.

Even as he was knocked back, he refused to cede control. As soon as that palm struck, Braze pivoted into the force of it, using the moment to carry his weight into a spin. Where Meritum had expected recoil, he found resurgence. The Jedi's body torqued fluidly, his boot whipping in a rising arc to carve through the air between them aimed at a round house to the knee. And that moment—that moment—was the crack in Meritum's tempo.

Braze could feel the currents of the moment, the tempo of the fight shifting like a battle hymn.

The line burst. Tibanna gas rushed like a specter, swallowing them in blindness. Meritum, in all his wisdom, thought this a neutralizer. A balancing of the field. His blades hissed into silence.

The Sith assumed too much. Sight wasn't his weakness—Not any more. A Jedi didn't need his eyes when the Force carried the whispers of movement, the echoes of intent, the heartbeat of battle itself.

Braze had the kind of dedication and drive to the art of war that set him apart from his peace loving peers. Braze moved in to a poised stance fueled not from a hastily drawn reserve, not from a desperate grasp at another tool, but from experience honed in blood and trial.

The lure of arrogance beckoned, swelling like a tide eager to consume him—but he held firm. He couldn't afford the indulgence; no excess. The young Echani honed his focus—not scattered, not excess, but a single, razor-sharp edge.

Even if he prevented the man from moving towards his goal Braze would be doing his part. He couldn't however resist a verbal echange.

" Is that all? I've met Padawans with a meaner bite. What happened to that legendary Sith brutality? It's no wonder the Jedi keep winning—you're making this easy."

Braze's voice was plucky and edged with an abraisve tone but it denoated even through his resperator that he was likely still a rather young Jedi Pup.

"Is that Sith retirement plan any good?"

 

[Darth Meritum]

The kick was harsh, strong, powerful - but Meritum met it with a check. Striking his shin, the kick was going to very likely leave a bruise in the bone, but that was much easier to deal with than a broken knee. Meritum was thankful, if nothing else, that the Jedi hadn't tried to do more like before.​

​

"Is the Sith retirement plan any good?", he asked with a coyness that marked his age.​

​

"No, not really.", Meritum offered back flatly. It was there that the sensation of Penumbra firing fell over him. It shook the station, force the hairs on his body to stand on end. A chill went down his spine as he realized what the Emperor had done. The very essence that hung in the air, it was spoke to a genocide that just took place somewhere on the surface.​

​

But the energies, dark and carrying, spilled into him with a resurgence of energy. It would be enough. An illusion of Darth Meritum joined him in the clouds, each identical to the other in their sensations of the Force. Both rushed past Braze far enough that he had to make a choice in which one he wanted to go after. For Meritum, this only reinforced the idea that he needed to finish what he was doing quickly.​

​

Before the Emperor lost his patience, and turned that damned rock on their facility.​

​

Braze Kai'el​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE 1: AUTONOMY

---

CURRENT MISSION - Smoke on the Water
Immediate Goals -
1: Breach the Woostri Defenses
2: Commandeer or neutralize the anti-Starcraft defense measures

BLUFOR - Sith Order || Darth Malum of House Marr et al. || Caelan Valoren (?)

OPFOR - Galactic Alliance et. al.

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Open Frequency

---

Something from the stars pressed upon the seas. It was enough to have Trayze buffet under the weight... but it wasn't the mere heady pressure of what the Dead God had levied upon the planet.

It was his one-sided relationship with the one in orbit that shook him deeper than any seaquake.

His veins pulsed, his eyes sputtered, his breath seized with the tendrils of darkness that he childishly drank from, hoping in the poison a sense of cure. Within the dark shadows, alone, he swayed, his eyes singing and steaming with tears. The accusations that Empyrean levied against the Jedi scourged him as well - for all he had done, he had done nothing.

He had abandoned his cousin, barely did any charity that could stem the tide of selfishness that bloated the Sith, and served by proxy the shadowy, entropic nature of the Force in fleshy form. Darth Carnifex.

Trayze Tesar had hidden himself away in his routines out of fear and shame of having done nothing. When in actuality, he had done worse.

He had done worse, he had done less, he had done nothing but fail.

How could he be all there is to be?

Yet ironically enough, he sensed someone... Caelan Valoren and... Lirka Ka ? Lirka Ka, actually feeling?! Had he truly gone mad?
Of course he had.
He had to, because that madness would mean that through his mercies, someone who he had considered an archrival, someone without redemption, could gain a new perspective on life. That the fact that he did things - whether few, whether small, was enough to earn him some genuine kinship, some small and unseen ways made the Galaxy a brighter place to live in - to show that the Soul was worth existing.

A manic grin flashed beneath the shadows of a buffeted hallway, and with newfound rictus vigor he flung himself towards the anti-air guns. Repeating the mantra "Do better. Do more." He was Trayze Tesar, he could do something. With a triumphant bellow, he tore through a sealed beachhead, declaring aloud.

"I am all that ever will be!"

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Glitter & Gold //:
//: Valery Noble //: Kahlil Noble //: Gerwald Lechner //:
//: Equipment in Sig //:

Allyson remained in cover, seeing things unfold with Gerwald's attack; it seemed the hammer had been just as effective as her two arrows. Holding the bow, she began to try to navigate better where she could go, but staying in one place meant chaos for the Corellian. Her mind mused over the layout she had quickly mapped out, but her peace was soon shattered faster than she thought. Valery's voice echoed over the explosion of the arrow at the same time, Allyson felt the warmth of the Light shine before her. Looking at the Light, she felt a surge of energy; it was pleasant but short-lived. What the Corellian did notice was the odd familiarity with the craft. Her eyebrows raised as a little knowing grin spread across her lips.

Her fun was cut short as she remembered Valery existed, and when Valery was hunting, she didn't stop till she caught the prey. Allyson felt the weight of the woman push through the Force. Eyes wide, Allyson could scramble back only to see the large pair of leather boots land near her head. The Force gathered as Valery landed, and the Corellian had a split second to decide if she would fight the blast or go with it. Allyson, being who she was, crossed her arms to cover her face with the bow still in her grip; the cloak remained as she was blasted back from the sheer Force of the telekinetic wave.

Being flung into the air wasn't something Allyson had on her to-do list for this mission. But here she was, tumbling head back and her legs following. Spurts from the armor flared as the woman tapped into her Mechu Deru; the Force controlled the power suit she wore, and the repulsors on the legs balanced her as she hung in the air for a split second. Suddenly visible, Allyson rolled her eyes and aimed toward Valery, "You're a real poodoo head, Valery," Allyson groaned. As another nanite arrow had been drawn, she kept herself steady, and once more, the arrow split into the three long shafts. Knocked, she covered her retreat with another rain of arrows; this time, instead of just the three, each split into a more minor burst of four.

Once the arrows left the string, the Corellian stopped controlling the repulsors, and she fell into her force cloak again. As much as she wanted to land softly, she didn't, and the sound of her weight thud against the ground, but if the Shadow kept moving, she hoped he could avoid the vengeful Master Noble. There was another shockwave, and Allyson raised an eyebrow; something more was happening around them - hopefully, it would help cover her position from her pursuers.

Though as much as Allyson knew keeping quiet was key to her survival, that insatiable stupidity Corellians were known for decided to rear its ugly head. Allyson crouched from the other side of the room, keeping an arrow drawn. "You know Kahlil, your dad would be pretty proud of you." she cheerfully chirped at the man, "Using runes like good ol dad? Didn't think you had it in you."

Oh, she wasn't done there, though. Her focus returned to the Grand Master, the one who was supposed to set the example for all Jedi in the Order. "Acting out on your emotions, Master Jedi, I thought there was no emotion, only peace?" Allyson knew the code. It was a lie—all of it. None of it mattered if what they were fighting for didn't exist. It was an endless stream of lies.

The Sith were no better, but at least they were honest.​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
ALLIES: Allyson Locke (directly) | Darth Malum of House Marr | Lunara Azure | Sophia of House Marr | Horus Rhyne | Darth Meritum
ENEMIES: Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble

The underwater facility trembled as the battle raged within its pressurized halls, metal groaning under the strain of the chaos. The hum of emergency klaxons and flickering red lights pulsed in rhythm with each concussive blast, warning of potential breaches.

Kahlil Noble barely spared Gerwald Lechner a glance. The Sith Lord stood before him, a towering wall of darkness and power, but Kahlil's focus was elsewhere. His expression, usually tempered with Jedi serenity, cracked with something raw, betrayal. His gaze seemed to lock onto Allyson Locke, the former Jedi who had turned against them, the weight of her choices pressing down on the moment more than any Sith could.

Gerwald had already committed to his attack. With a snarl, he hurled his warhammer at Valery Noble , the weapon a blur of dark steel and lethal intent as it tore through the artificially pressurized air, carrying with it the force of his strength. The walls shuddered with the motion, the confined space amplifying the sheer weight of the battle.

And then Allyson’s arrow struck.

It detonated between Kahlil and Valery, a shockwave of fire and concussive force erupting outward, struggling against the confined space. The explosion sent a ripple through the facility, pressure fighting against the force unleashed within. The blast wave crashed into bulkheads, lights flickering, alarms screaming louder.

The two Jedi reacted instantly.

Gerwald braced himself, his stance widening instinctively. His armor absorbed the brunt of the impact, reinforced plating dispersing the concussive force. Heat rolled over him, momentarily distorting the air in waves of residual fire, but the Sith Lord stood firm, embers curling off his warplate.

Through the smoke, his warhammer continued its deadly arc, but Valery was already moving.

At the last possible second, she phased, her form flickering like a mirage as the massive weapon passed through her without impact. It slammed into the floor instead, the impact reverberating through the deck plating, sending a spider web of cracks through the reinforced flooring.

And then more arrows.

They streaked toward Gerwald and the Jedi, another strike meant to follow up on the first. He growled, instincts forcing him to shift, to defend, but they never landed.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Kahlil didn’t move, but the air itself seemed to crystallize, the sheer weight of his presence sending a supernatural chill through the chamber. The water vapor in the air condensed instantly into icy mist, coiling around him as if reality itself were freezing over.

The arrows froze mid-air.

Metal shards suspended in place, their deadly momentum arrested, gleamed like icicles trapped in time. The sheer unnatural stillness of it all was suffocating, the hum of energy crackling through the Force.

And then Force Light.

A searing brilliance erupted from one Kahlil’s runes, flooding the confined battlefield in radiant energy, reflecting off the metal walls and the frozen mist. Light clashed against darkness, burning like a purifying sun inside the ocean’s depths.

If it worked, if that holy radiance stunned Gerwald for even a breath, it would give Valery the opening she needed.

The underwater facility shook violently, the metal framework groaning under the strain as the ocean floor trembled. A deep, guttural rumble reverberated through the structure, distant but ominous. Something was shifting above.

A sudden, raw wave of Dark Side energy tore through the chamber, oppressive and suffocating, pulsing like a second heart within the depths fueled by the death and devastation of what Darth Empyrean had done. It poured into Gerwald Lechner, coiling around him like an unseen force, fueling him, fortifying him, answering the Light with an equal, unrelenting shadow.

Where others would have been blinded, stunned, or burned by the purifying brilliance of Kahlil’s Force Light, Gerwald endured. The Sith Lord’s stance remained unbroken, his figure wreathed in residual embers from the explosion and an aura of pulsing, unnatural power. His breath came slow, deliberate. His eyes burned like smoldering coals beneath his helm as he turned his gaze toward the Jedi.

The light had failed to stop him.

He could hear Allyson’s taunting. He smiled at the connection between Kahlil’s runes and Darth Carnifex . It was a method that tied him, connected him intimately, to his father. It seemed that despite changing his name to Noble, Kahlil could not escape his lineage. The two Jedi’s reaction gave the Dread Wolf even more satisfaction. They were emotional, and it was controlling their actions.

Valery had turned away from Gerwald. His crimson blade was still alive, humming its battlecry as the Dread Wolf charged toward the Jedi. If they were both paying attention to Allyson, then he would swing at the both in one large motion. Perhaps he could use her distraction to cut them both in half in one swift attack.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

"Please, just call me Caelan," he said when she referred to him as master jedi. "At the end of the day we are all just people trying to survive in this galaxy, no need to constantly separate ourselves."

He helped her upright, and allowed her to lean against him. If he still had his left arm, he'd have put it around her to steady her, but she'd kind of taken that away from him. Such was the nature of things. He didn't hold the loss against her. Battle was a precarious thing, and loss was a part of it. That loss had lead to him freeing her of the shackles of her master, loosing her from the grip of the dark side of the Force, so it was a sacrifice he did not feel was a bad one to have made. He would make it again if he were taken back to that moment.

She mentioned needing bacta, but before he could speak, a wave of pain washed over him. It caused him to shift uncomfortably and a deep wheeze escaped his lungs. The pain came not from himself, but from within the Force. Even he, someone with weak sense abilities, had felt it.

<Fate, what just happened?>

<Bwoo-dweep bwee-dwoop bwoo-beep, dwooo-beep bwoo-dweet. Bwoop-dweet beep-beep, bwoo-dwoop bwee-dweet beep-dwoop!>

That explained what he'd felt. People dying en masse. Monstrous. He sighed, but didn't say anything of it to her. No need to trouble her with such things when she seemed to be going through a crisis of identity.

<Go find a medic with a supply of bacta. This one needs it.>

<Bwoo-dweet beep!>

Nudging the woman gently, he tried to get her to start walking. If he was going to get her aide, he needed to get her out of the combat zone. To protect them, he enacted a bubble of the Force. It would deflect any shots anyone took at them as opportunists became numerous since neither of them really had the ability to fight and defend themselves at the moment. His top priority was getting her the aid that she needed because he didn't want her to die.

"I've sent my droid companion to find a medic with bacta. In the meantime let's get away from the battle so you can rest. While we walk, perhaps you could tell me your name? Also, how much of what's inside of that metal carapace of yours is living?"

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

“Caelan…So be it.”

Lirka was a woman of titles, but if this was to be a new leaf. Perhaps things could change. She did not mention his talk of survival, was that what she had done? Become a monster to survive? The haze of her mind did not allow her to form a clear though, 200 years flashed in front of her again and again, the flash of lives lived and deaths died. All to be remade and rise again.

The death of the city washed over the battlefield, Darkness swelled around them. But Lirka was a void again, her thoughts unburdened by darkness. She gave the smallest of glance towards Caelan Valoren as he shifted and wheezed. She said nothing but let out a wet sickly cough, and tried to walk. A stumbling thing like that of a child, as if her body was unfamiliar to her.

She looked to the bubble, they were truly alone in the storm now. An odd thing, the force. A foreign thing once again. He asked for her name and the natural of her wretched form, after a moment’s thought she gave it.

“Lirka Ka.”

Maybe he had read the history books, maybe he had not. For what was Lirka Ka but another list of criminals and butchers from an Empire long dead?

“There is more of me living than you may think.”

She was a creature of flesh and “blood” after all, the suit offered many things most of which was the anonymity to act if she was something closer to a droid than a person.

“Caelan?…”

She asked out to the Jedi, weak, sheepish almost: an ironic change from a woman who had been spouting off endlessly about darkness and dead.

“…May I see your face? I tire of masks and war-plate, I wish to see another person.”

What had Lirka Ka been her entire life but masks and war plate? Armor and ideals instead of the person within.

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

Braze pivoted sharply on his heel, thrusting both hands forward as a surge of wind roared through the hallway. The invisible force swept past the forms before him, but only one pushed back—only one disrupted the current with mass and weight.

There.

His fingers curled, and with a sharp pull of his fist, the air around Darth Meritum was violently siphoned away. The shift was immediate—an abrupt vacuum stealing the breath from his lungs, strangling the very space he occupied.

This wasn't hesitation. This wasn't experimentation.

Braze had done this before. The ease—the sheer casualness—of the maneuver spoke to experience, to a honed skill wielded without second thought. While others bent the Force to move stone or fire, wind was his domain.

He pressed forward, relentless, continuing to pull the air from Meritum's reach. Now the choice belonged to the old Sith.

Struggle or surrender.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

More of her living than he thought. Curious. When he had wounded her, what he had seen come out was a black fluid, not that of blood, at least not any blood of any being he was familiar with. He would have guessed she was something more akin to a cyborg, a machine keeping alive only certain bits and pieces of a once fully flesh and blood being. Perhaps there was, after all, a chance to save her from the misery of the frame she resided within. He did know a way.

She asked if she could see his face, and he didn't mind complying with that, but they had more pressing issues at the moment. He lead her further in, to a room where no fighting was currently taking place. It seemed to be some sort of office, but at least there were a couple of chairs. He ushered her towards once, nudging her to sit upon it. If her body was in need of emergency bacta, it was best that he not take her too far, lest she end up suffering some catastrophic failure. He was not a healer. The only reason he had survived the wound she gave him was the bead he'd gotten as a gift from Azzie.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Lirka," he began as he kicked another chair out with his foot and sat upon it, laying her sword upon the desk. "Part of me wishes you had taken my initial offer. The other part of me is glad you didn't since you're free of the shackle which bound you."

Everyone deserved to be free. Free of chains. Free to live a life of joy and happiness. She may have thought she had that with what she was doing, but she was just being used. Sure, she was given power by the man known as Kaine, but that power came with the cost of being subservient to him. No different being a slave, forced to work for room and board with all profits turned over to your owner. That wasn't living. The darkness she'd spoken of was nothing more than abuse of the living by others who should be dead.

With his hand now free, he reached up and undid the clasp of his helm before removing it and setting it to the side. His hair was plastered to his head from sweat, he certainly didn't look kingly, but she could see his face, including the old scar on his cheek.

"Are you capable of removing your helm or will that result in your death? I don't want you to die. I think the people on my world could actually help you recover from what's been done to you."

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Lirka Ka ​

 

[Darth Meritum]

It was smart to use the wind to see which one was real. With a bit more care, a little bit less rush, he could have made them both react to the wind: it wasn't an issue. The real problem he faced was the urgency that drove him forward. The kid was quick, smart if nothing else, and he fought more violently that a Jedi might normally try. His strikes were non lethal, or tried to be, but they were fundamentally absolute in their intent.​

​

It was a respectable thing, to be completely convinced of a conviction and to put it to action.​

​

Unfortunately, the wind that was stolen from Meritum's lungs didn't slow him. The man had just swam with no air in his lungs for upwards of minutes, specifically to speed up his descent to the bulkhead. It wasn't that he enjoyed not breathing, it was simply that he had done the necessary work to allow him to not have to. Gas, vacuum, whatever it was, a Sith's body moved with its own conviction: to press on in spite of everything.​

​

Meritum's senses fell back on Braze Kai'el as he ran from him. Perhaps they might think it cowardice, but that wasn't entirely accurate. With the Jedi clear in his mind, he snapped his finger and turned a corner. All at once, five thermal detonators, five glop grenades, 5 fragmentation grenades, and 5 cryoban grenades activated - along with a small spark to set off the five pounds of thermite he carried. In all fairness, he wasn't even entirely sure how the Jedi carried all that with them - he was barely five and half feet tall, and a buck and a quarter wet. There was easily over a hundred pounds of equipment he carried with him - the fact he moved like he did in spite of it was a testament to his ability. Or something like that, Meritum guessed.​

​

Still, it wouldn't matter. Surely the kid had some way to not be blown to smithereens or drowned. Not that Meritum had landed any hit thus far - the Jedi seemed all the more capable as a knight than he was. A Sith didn't become the Voice of the Emperor without at least some skill, however, and thus let the force draw on something minute, something small.​

​

At the bottom of the ocean, the pressure was immense. Meritum had felt that first hand when he was sent out into the freezing water. His own submersible had crumpled under that pressure like a tin can, and it left him wanting for the safety of that once stalwart vessel. However, down here in the midst of a command center under fire, all it would take was a very surgical application of the Force to drive a pressure spike in a single piece of the casing.​

​

He didn't need to tear a hole, only put a single bolt to its limit. Thus, the pressure of the Ocean did everything else for him. It broke into the wall near him, filling the halls with freezing water and more threatened to rush in. The equalizing pressure began to force even the bulkheads to strain as more leaks formed - leaving the two of them to have to deal with a soon to be drowning machine.​

​

Perhaps, Meritum thought, he could even reach a bulkhead and force this equipment laden Jedi to drown.​

 

[Braze Kai'el]

TAGS: Darth Meritum

His small heeled boots pounded against the deck, pursuing, hunting the Sith. He wasn't letting the man get away so easily. Simply put.
There was a moment—just a sliver of a second—where Braze's mind had to weigh everything at once.
The unnatural hush of detonators priming. The creeping chill of cryoban gas. The damp click of grenades opening their maws. Thermite.

"Fierfek."

Then—the intrusion an violent violation of his personal affects. His attire caught fire before his mind fully grasped the scale of the problem. Then came the sharp, suffocating pulse of danger. His hold on the suffocation of the Sith wavered.

For all Meritum's perceptiveness—knowing where Braze's hidden weapons were, how they were stowed, what they could do—it shouldn't have mattered. Never mind the fact that the pouches were designed to ensure safe carry to prevent this problem specifically. Carrying a weapon wasn't solely the power of it's possession. It was about control. Mastery. Knowing how to use it and how to counter it.
Yet, somehow still—his own arsenal had been turned against him.

It wasn't a singular explosion. It was a chain reaction of devastation, each detonation feeding into the next.

A shockwave of concussive force tore through his small frame first, blasting the breath from his lungs, rattling his skull inside his own head. The locked pouches along his belt ruptured, one after another, cascading destruction through his side like a series of hammer blows.

Fire erupted across his body. Cryoban ruptured in the same instant, flash-freezing whatever wasn't already ablaze.
He felt his ribs compress from the blast, his skin blistering and burning where thermite spray spat out of the ruined pouches and clung like molten leeches.
It shouldn't have happened.

The design was meticulous. Locked. Reinforced. Every pouch was uniquely crafted to prevent failure, not invite it.

The grenades were secured in tight crevices, their pins locked in place—untouchable unless deliberately extracted from the pouch to allow enough space to pull the pins free. The thermite was sealed, stable, incapable of ignition within the confines of the carrying bag.

And yet, somehow, it had.

And yet, here he was.

The Force worked in mysterious ways.

Braze didn't waste time trying to figure out how it happened. That didn't matter. Survival did.

He didn't resist the force of the explosion—he rode it. His body twisted mid-air, and as thermite peeled from his smoldering robes, he seized it with telekinesis. The burning mass followed him, suspended within his Force bubble—molten death trailing behind him like a second shadow. His meditation crystals pulsed against his thoughts, stripping away distraction, keeping his mind streamlined.

Force Speed tore through his limbs, propelling him forward in a burst of momentum.

The inferno surged around him— but his ally, the Force, surged faster.

The first instinct was Tutaminis accompanied by Tapas. He drew deep, letting the Force drink in the heat, the concussive energy, the sources of searing pain. His body became a conduit—not immune, but absorbing, redirecting, diminishing.

The fire that should have consumed him was pulled into the marrow of his being. The concussive force, instead of breaking him, was harnessed—channeled into his next motion.

A shimmering Force Barrier snapped into place, absorbing the brunt of the explosion—but not all of it. Cryoban mist exploded into vapor as it met the molten thermite, creating a shroud of steam that hissed as it licked his exposed skin.

Pain meant nothing. He was still here, and he'd been through worse.

Think. Act. Move.

The explosion had ruined the pouches beyond use—he discarded them, shaking off the lingering ice and burning glop, leaving only what could still serve him.

Then came the pressure spike.

The detonation slammed into the weakened bulkhead—exactly where Meritum had been working to compromise it.

The sea wanted in. Not a pinprick leak. Not a trickling weakness. A full, catastrophic rupture. The torrential rush of water surged forth, as the deep claimed its prize.

The pressure differential struck like a physical force, sending entire sections of the corridor collapsing inward as the ocean punched through the gap. A deep, guttural boom rattled through the deck as the walls bent inward, bulkheads screeching under the strain.

He threw himself up and forward, igniting his saber mid-motion. If the sea was coming for him, then he was leaving before it had its due. He kicked off a collapsing rail, vaulted over the disintegrating walkway, and drove his saber into the wall as an brief anchor point, riding the Force-powered momentum to an access hatch above.

The detonation had nearly taken him apart, but what was left—what remained—he would turn against Meritum, without fear, without restraint—with impunity.

He keyed up his com, "Hull breach detected—flooding is spreading through multiple sectors!"

 

[Kahlil Noble]

He didn't have to hear Valery to know she was right. That they'd have to work together. But, they had to work together. Against Allyson. Before him Gerwald stilled from the flash of light that hadn't even been directed at him, but the Shadow stalking them was still moving, that was still hidden from his senses. She wasn't burned by the Light. She wasn't some copy or illusion or even a shape shifting Sith. It was her.

She was fighting them.

"Your words hurt more than you know, Allyson."

A saddened smile took over Kahlil's features. The kind that made him look older than he was. Death ripped through the air. Something, somewhere close, had killed a large portion of the city. People were dying because of the Sith, and the Jedi were too busy fighting amongst themselves to stop it. The irony wasn't lost on Kahlil. Part of the reason he'd looked up to Allyson was because of those old days, when she was just a Jedi ignoring the politics the others were so consumed by. She was the kind of Jedi he'd wanted to be.

The Jedi he was, even if she wasn't.

A barrier shifted, runes scrawling in the air between Valery and the Wolf. The sadness of betrayal was clear in his eyes, his smile, but he wasn't a young Jedi. Being a Jedi wasn't about being emotionless, it was learning to accept those emotions, and to step alongside them. To act without letting them act for him. To act in spite of them.

Valery knew how to fight Allyson. They'd worked together. They were both Shadows. He pulled on the barrier, fully intending for the shimmering gold to slam into Gerwald and pull the Wolf from his current hunt and back towards him. Runes etched onto his skin started to glow gold from where they were once invisible. He'd handle the Wolf, until Valery either brought Allyson down or snapped her out of this.

Allyson Locke | Gerwald Lechner | Valery Noble