The Full Reach of Law (GA Dominion of Atrisia Hex)

[Laira Darkhold]

Draco glared at Veino as he strode forward and touched his bare hand to Taryc's exposed neck and cheek. "We take care of our own. Besides, I caused her pains. I owe it to her to heal them." His touch would feel like a warm bath after a day of working on the freezing tundra, radiating warmth and calm through the attractive young woman. Draco wasn't the most skilled healer, in fact, outside of being able to heal himself, he wasn't highly trained or remarkably skilled. The warlord focused on the woman's minor injuries and turned her body's own regenerative properties into overdrive, pouring his Force energy into her body, burning the lactic acid from her muscles and washing the fear from her mind. She wouldn't heal Wolverine fast, but it would numb the physical pain she might be feeling and begin to restore her burned flesh just as swiftly as a bath in bacta might as well as refreshing her reservoir of power she could call upon.

His own arm was slowly mending, not enough that the bones would be healed by the time they found this Grayson character Veino mentioned, but enough that he might be able to swing the arm around and block with it some. He was trying to conserve his reservoir of strength and power as much as possible, so that when the time came he could suppress, or at the very least hinder the might some of these gods wielded. It was unlikely he would have significant effect against them, and he definitely wouldn't be able to take their lives, but it was possible he could aid his allies and save those of his friends. Even if he had focused solely on his own injuries, he would still be a liability in melee, enough so that he could get one of them killed or seriously injured.

"We'll be alright." He muttered to Garn, his eyes still closed as his presence seeped into Taryc rearranging her blood-flow to better deliver nutrients and healing enzymes to her wounds. "You alright now little heart-breaker?" Draco asked the young woman as he slowly pulled his hand away from her neck and cheek, "Cause we still have the big boys left to fight and I won't be able to keep up with them in melee with a busted wing." She and Garn would have to do most of the work there, while he supported them. They could turn to him for aid, they could set their enemies up so he could drain them, or he could help lower their enemies down to their level. And he could always shoot whoever they were fighting.

"Lead the way Veino."

[member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] [member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

There was a peace that came with acceptance.

The words Silara spoke bounced off Cyril like rain. Whatever hold she might have had over him before was now gone. Having stated his piece, acknowledging what he was, the old master felt liberated. For all the agony and death this world had endured, Cyril was at peace. He was a center in this deluge of blood, the eye of a storm that cared not a lick for those it destroyed. At that center, there was nothing, save for the happy promise of release.

Waves of terrible energy surged all around. They rebounded from the origin point in front of him, the beacon being the woman whom he'd once claimed to love. That love was still there, but it was more akin to the way one might love a terrible painting. It was beautiful and interesting to discuss, but you could never appreciate it like you would the company of another person.

He watched through what might as well have been glass as Vitium promised him death for what felt like the hundredth time today, and smiled.

"I'm alright," he said simply, the lightsaber falling from his hands. All at once, the ethereal energies he'd held within him were released. His body became illuminated in a light of shining colors: a miniature supernova that lived for the barest fraction of a second. Then came darkness, and finally nothing.

The armor fell to the concrete with a dull thud. Robes and bits of cloth followed next. The being whom had worn them was long gone, not even a hair left of him. All that remained of Cyril Grayson was the refuse left in the wake of his ascension. His presence was gone, washed from the physical plane for all eternity.

Cyril Grayson had ascended into the higher plane. The being that had once been Graxin Rade, Cyril Grayson, and a dozen other false monikers had become one with the force.

[member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

/::Log Entry::/
/ost-Action Report:/

​Ascension. Apotheosis. They can call it what they want, but it doesn't change the truth. I heard secondhand what happened. The Sith probably thought they were becoming gods, but you don't get to murder that many people and get away with it. The Force is nothing if it is not balance.

They can spend the next eternity regretting such thoughts while they burn in Chaos.

/::End of entry::/

 

[Faith Organa]

Location: City of Shiso
Allies: [member="HK-36"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Rhen Qel-Droma"]

Faith was leaning up against the wall looking up she couldn't hear Captain Lindsey or any of the guardsmen who went with him. Faith couldn't help but to begin to notice the work that had been done in the tram station. The scroll work the glyphs and patters inter locking and weaving across the walls and ceiling it had been a true work of art.

Faith felt a small hum looking at the comm the message read that help was coming, "thank goodness" but they need the orange marker. Faith headed up intent upon finding the Captain the heat blasted her pushing her back for a moment.

She made herself walk out, "Captain Lindsey" her voice carried on the winds two of the royal guards came to her side, "we need to mark the area with orange smoke" A quick nod and they went off to ensure there was orange smoke to mark where they were. Faith was concerned about the Captain, where was he what were they looking at. Within fifteen minutes the smoke was set, orange plumes rose up marking where they were.

How far would they go ? How long before the GA arrived?

another message

She looked down and smiled, Draco.

Faith stared at the message now her mandalorian as pretty good. So now was he calling her his booty, or his treasure.

//message// Draco

You broke you arm! Are you ok?

Are you really calling me my booty?

Faith //

She looked down around around, booty? nahh...

Ana was on the steps looking up, "Faith" she whispered.

"There's a call for help, low frequency. Our pilot says he can barely hear it, they are giving coordinates.." Faith knew there were many out there waiting. If they stayed any longer in the conditions she didn't know what damage would be done to her lungs, or body.

"We need to wait for the GA with the additional rebreathers' before we do irreparable damage to ourselves." It was a long wait Faith watched the skies, and the streets.

 

[Darth Ren Malgus]

Location watching from the balcony
Allies: [member="Adas James Malgus"] [member="Darth Erebos"]
[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

Ren stood there torn between running out onto the field of battle and stying put. Her 14 year old son was now standing before one of the leaders of the Alliance. "Give him wisdom" she pleaded to the unseen dieties that she prayed watched over him.

The words spoken there between them she could hardly hear Adas as still full of piss and vinegar ready to take off another head, Erebos tried to calm him. But then something changed something made him remember he was a child. Ren watched now intently to see what they would do with her son, as she waited. Was he, hanging on to the representative from the GA belt?

Only when he was smaller had he ever done such a thing and it had been done quite innocently and still now once again he was a child, her son not a king, or a warrior, just a boy. Ren relaxed.

Adas ordered everyone to put down their weapons and without hesitation they did, no one wanted to continue fighting, the body count was already too high, and the planet already suffering. Ren folded her hands and waited she was proud of her son and loved him dearly.

What did this representative have in mind for Adas?

 

[HK-36]

[member="Seria Ventreme"], [member="Darth Lykos"],

HK motioned for his troops to move towards Seria and Lykos,

"Get these two processed and to our medical camp, their surrender is accepted so get them off the battle field."

If Seria would prefer to make a run for it like Thraxis did instead of surrendering, well the same mercy would be extended towards her as it was towards him, the droid's army would not chase her, but they would defend themselves if attacked. If Lykos truly wished to surrender he would be eventually escorted away from [member="Adele Adonai"], if he would want to try something, well it would be quickly apparent that Abregado's forces were not planning on moving anywhere until an order was given from HK, meaning that even though other Jedi and Force users begun moving towards the Palace to wrap things up, Adele was left with a whole army to watch her back, led by one of HK's more intelligent bodyguard copies in his stead.

"I want two of the remaining Greycloaks to fall in on me, we are moving to the Palace."

The droid had 5 Greycloak Bodyguards active at a time, one was deactivated by Break, one stayed with garrison to watch over the Outskirts, especially Adele and provide backup to [member="Spencer Varanin"] if she needed it, one was busy piloting HK's personal stealth ship, which meant that he still had two bodyguards free to join him by the Palace when the time came.


Relaying the message from [member="Elpsis Elaris"], he would contact [member="Symara Tarriq"],

"Elpsis said yes, when you are- wait what am I doing? I do not have time for this, just contact her yourself, you have her commlink. We are moving towards the Southern edge of the Palace, Voidstalker is calling for all Jedi, Force-users, and related personnel to congregate there so we can finish this and go home. We have a couple prisoner and wounded transports waiting, if you want to make sure they are secured then great, otherwise we are pretty much done here."


And so the droid would finally move out from the Jar Kai outskirts, moving up towards [member="Aela Talith"], [member="Jamie Pyne"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] and [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] position, South of the Palace,

"So what is the plan?"

The droid asked as he arrived by the group, still covered in that Vong biot goop, organic plates adorning his entirely Phrik body, long black cloak hanging off of his shoulders, [member="Darth Erebos"] would see that the droid was somewhat Force-dead, closer to the way Vong are outside of the Force rather than Ysalamiri but not even quiet so, if Vong would be seen as a moving void within the Force by him, the droid in his current state was more like a shape distorted by interference. A state granted him by the biot he was covered in.

Others would be able to simply sense him as being currently dead in the Force.

As to [member="Adas James Malgus"], if the littlest prince thought description or a little blue hologram of the droid was cool, well he could see the real thing for comparison, tall and almost skeletal, Phrik body clad in additional external armor of Vong origin, a medley of techniques and technologies that probably should not happen, all adorned with the iconic black cloak, various weapons hanging off of his belt, and then the two armored and cloaked HK droid guards trailing behind him, his Greycloaks. But here was an interesting thought, it was possible that Adas would know more about the droid than the other two.

After all, Atrisia was pretty close to Abregado where the droid set up his domain, as mentioned before, and it just so happened that Abregado had a very robust Holovision industry that was not above broadcasting its services to neighboring systems, Atrisia included. Since HK personally oversaw, and often produced and wrote, some of these shows, they usually featured him heavily for propaganda purposes, just another run of the mill cult of personality, for example the Saturday Morning Cartoon called The Misadventures of The Iron Knight and The Ever-Colonel Kerrigan, based on HK's adventures during the Bando Gora campaign as he rose to prominence in the ranks of the Protectorate,


(List of other shows here)

The Misadventures of The Iron Knight and The Ever-Colonel Kerrigan- Another morning-cartoon, based on a mix of fictional and factual adventures Siobhan and HK had during the Bando Gora Campaign and beyond. While staying in context of battles and wars, the show has been praised for its use of shadows and drastic light changes to convey violence without showing actual gore and the comedic interactions between Siobhan and HK help convey the show's serious messages to younger audiences.

So what I'm getting at, if Adas grew up or spent much time on Atresia, it's possible he grew up on cartoons and shows that featured HK as their star, and if so the hero of his childhood stories would be before him and he would know some of his older tricks, a black cloak that made him invisible- check, white lightsaber that could not cut but inspired others- check, shatterguns- yep, bodyguards that could instantly know what he was thinking- there was that too, retractable spears that could pierce through anything- he would be able to spot elongated hilts hanging off of their belts that looked suspiciously similar to what the cartoons depicted, gloves that could disable lightsabers with a touch- ok that may have changed, but the rest of the stuff was pretty spot on. After all, HK didn't really expect to face anyone that watched cartoons about him. That is, if Adas indeed grew up on the shows HK made and broadcasted from his little kingdom.


[member="Serena Bouie"],

Serena could see the being step forward to the group by her son from her spot on the balcony, perhaps she could recognize it was a droid hidden under the organic matter of a biot that covered it, perhaps not, either way, the being had two guards with him, both droids, both heavily armored and armed.

 

[H3xle]

[member="draco vereen"] | [member="veino garn"]

"Name's Veino Garn."

"Mine's Taryc..." She sounded almost as if she'd give her surname, but she didn't know if naming herself as a daughter of what had been one of the leading inquisitorial houses within the Primeval would be wise. However, Veino went on, and she could only nod to agree that the building likely wasn't to be standing much longer.

"First priority is getting you two back in shape," Veino added, turning on his boots as he considered. "Let me do that, Draco. You've got enough injuries." He strode forward, and removed his gauntlets, "May I?"

A small uneasiness opened in her stomach, she was used to being in control all the time. Now to not only need aid, but accept it from a relative stranger...that was difficult. Still, the man was trusted, so she bared her neck for him to lay hands on her. At the point of contact, she could feel his force presence begin to rejuvenate her and help speed her healing. Her left arm had taken most of the damage, and she could begin to feel her grip on her helmet grow more sure.

"We take care of our own. Besides, I caused her pains. I owe it to her to heal them."

"Boys...I can handle both of you, I assure you..." She spoke with a dry smirk in her voice that was mirrored on her face as Draco also laid hands on her. She couldn't help it, she had to be glib to maintain some semblance of control. She could feel Draco's presence in the force begin to also aid her healing. Beneath the scarred armorweave, her arm healed fairly swiftly, with both of them helping her. She could also feel some of her depleted reserves of force energy return. After a moment she nodded and stepped back to break the connection of the two men slowly, not wanting to show how uncomfortable being vulnerable made her. After a slow look around the room, she donned her helmet again and sealed it in place.

"We'll be alright." He muttered to Garn, his eyes still closed as his presence seeped into Taryc rearranging her blood-flow to better deliver nutrients and healing enzymes to her wounds. "You alright now little heart-breaker?" Draco asked the young woman as he slowly pulled his hand away from her neck and cheek, "Cause we still have the big boys left to fight and I won't be able to keep up with them in melee with a busted wing."

"Thank you, both. If there is someone that needs to be brought low, let's be about it." She felt infinitely more comfortable, more in control in her armor. She gave her sword a testing flourish, first with her right, then her left hand. Both worked well, though there was still a tightness in her left arm. The skin was still tight and fresh there. Then she sheathed it, and turned, looking to Veino to tell them where they'd be of most use next.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Adele Adonai"] [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] [member="Seras Rose"] [member="Spencer Varanin"] [member="HK-36"] [member="Elpsis Elaris"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Jamie Pyne"] [member="Joza Perl"] [member="Darth Erebos"] [member="Adas James Malgus"] [member="Veino Garn"] [member="Draco Vereen"]

“Aela,” he turned away from the King of Atrisia. Was it even King yet, or merely Prince he wondered? He was hardly up to date on how monarchies worked. If there was one person he could trust to do the right thing without hesitation it was the young Talith. She would notice that he had tucked his left thumb into his equipment belt to take the strain off his left shoulder. There a wicked crack in his armour was sealed with a pale bacta foam. The scarlet scales of his armour no longer hid the dark, dried blood stains.

“And everyone else.” Powerful allies all around. This from the old Protectorate, those from the New Jedi Order, their friends from the Kathol sector. “It is time to end this.”

He didn’t reply to Erebos any further, but would hone his senses on the man from that point forwards. His trust in the sith rival was paper thin. Redemption could be sought. Three of those present had weaned themselves off the use of the Dark side of the Force on Sullust, himself included. Jacen was exhausted, but one thing gave him the strength to continue. Hope. Hope that this wasn’t going to become a drawn out campaign that left him fighting for months as war raged across Atrisia.

"I'm alright," he said simply, the lightsaber falling from his hands. All at once, the ethereal energies he'd held within him were released. His body became illuminated in a light of shining colors: a miniature supernova that lived for the barest fraction of a second.

Then came darkness, and finally nothing. The armor fell to the concrete with a dull thud. Robes and bits of cloth followed next. The being whom had worn them was long gone, not even a hair left of him. All that remained of Cyril Grayson was the refuse left in the wake of his ascension. His presence was gone, washed from the physical plane for all eternity.

The anchor. Jacen felt it snap. He honed in on those energies dissipating, leaving eddies in the flow of the Force in their wake. There was no time to lose.

He led the party through the grounds near the palace. The odd spatter of blaster fire still rang out in the distance, but the city was still, near-silent. As if was holding its breath, waiting to see what would follow. All the dust still hung in the air from the volcanic eruption, but shards of light pierced the waning storms above. They caught the flakes that lingered, showed how still the air had become. Atrisian guards were visible, still carrying arms but not more focused on moving the wounded to immediate safety.

What they found was not what he expected. No sign of Grayson. A woman with an empty pile of armour. The Force still coalesced around another pair, still locked in some form of struggle.*

“Top knot,” he murmured to himself. The fingers of his right hand found the hilt of his relatively plain saber.

“Stand down!” he called, voice clear and calm yet conveying a strength of command. The host he had assembled to bring this to a close would not be trifled with.

---

*Vitamin, Reverance and Bethany.
OOC/ Jacen takes all those who had assembled on the stairs to bring the last of the conflict to a close. [member="Darth Ferox"] and [member="Dar'rak"] will be up next.

 

[Siriwook]

Taking a break from helping the medics, Siriwook is in her quarters, embroiled in what might best be described as teen angst in human terms. But she isn't human. If she had come of age on Kashyk, she'd have a large ceremony celebrating her newfound appreciation for her own feelings. Siriwook remembered her father telling her all about his journey to adulthood. Teen boy wookiees, on the other hand, would be going on dangerous quests in the Shadowlands beneath the Wroshyr trees to test their mettle. In a way, Wasskah was a Shadowlands, though nowhere near as dangerous. The thought gives her some relief, but she still longs for someone to talk to--almost anyone--who will understand.

"[Calm yourself]" supplied the Voice-of-Hope-Within, "[don't allow others to define you]"

Siriwook's brow crinkled. The Voice-of-Hope-Within had helped her survive Wasskah--encouraging at times, shouting warnings at others--but it has never been what she might describe as a nurturer. And, lately, it seems almost annoyed with her. But how could that be? Isn't it just her own thoughts? Or the Force? As far as she knew, the Force did not get annoyed. Or, if it was just her own thoughts, perhapse Siriwook was annoyed with herself.

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Atrisia
Invested: [member="Reverance"]
Nearby: [member="Darth Vitium"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Alecandria"] [member="Veiere Arenais"]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiSFPN37hhE[/media]

She felt the way the tides shifted around her. From so many directions the currents of reality shifted. The sensation of the cessation of aggressions- the potential for peace- it didn't matter to her who had done it, she didn't care if her earlier attempt had failed, so long as this one succeeded.

The crashing of light against the dark, against the doubts and fears- as [member="Adele Adonai"] pushed against the tide of [member="Darth Vitium"]. Those sensations still nibbled, still gnawed, but their strength lessened, their words growing hollow and easier to ignore.

She almost didn't. The sound of his voice in her head, even uttering accusation, was almost worth it. She understood the deep hunger there. The danger inherent. And very slowly, very firmly, she set it aside.

The release of [member="Darth Mephirium"] echoed- a sighing tension finally allowed to let go. She hadn't known him, beyond that briefest of interactions. She did not mourn his loss- there was nothing to mourn. But she would think of him, when her thoughts were free to wander again. That was a luxury few of them had in this crystalline moment, however.

All of that was background, sitting just beyond the edges of her reach and ability to influence.

It was the ebb and flow right around her that held the lion's share of her attention- it had to. The feeling of [member="Veiere Arenais"]'s withdrawal contrasted with the looming sensation of @Reverence 's presence as he closed the gap- their actions could have been choreographed with exacting precision by a master. An elaborately staged scene.

But Bethany didn't know what came next.

Ash and cinders swirled around them. She didn't flinch as he knelt before her. Dark hair hung in her face, emerald eyes on the broken stone beneath her hands. Something, beyond his nearness, had changed. She didn't understand it, couldn't find words to adequately explain it. His next words brought her eyes to a close, a hitch in her breath. The weight of that statement froze her.

She didn't move as his hand moved to lie heavily on her shoulder.

Bethany had lived a scant four decades, living, breathing, fighting as a Jedi. In that short lifetime, she had experienced pain beyond measure. But forty years contrasted with over five hundred that she had spent enveloped in the warmth of Zonama sekot- it was a tiny fraction of the existence of her spirit.

She had forgotten what pain felt like.

In the weeks since her return, the gift of this body by Sekot, she had needed to re-acclimate to a galaxy that shared no sensations with the embrace of the forest. Everything was too cold or too hot- too hard, harsh and too bright. Every sensation that went along with simply living was alien and uncomfortable. She had moved in the perpetual acceptance of what she had given up by returning. Peace. Sanctuary. A connection that she could still feel threaded between the stars. But she had not, in that time, experienced pain.

The shock of it had led them to this strange moment. She felt the pull from him, drawing on shadows that had rippled from his own pain- the burning on her palms- the crying out of the planet itself, so deeply injured, beneath her finger tips. Bethany did not hold it back. She did not keep it, hoarding that physical agony for herself. It was not a crutch she needed or wanted. But why would he help her? She misunderstood, once again.

"You....Don't belong here."

​"Atrisia called," she answered, as if that explained everything. "Just as Sekot called once before." There was a weight in her breast that made it had to speak, and her voice was low and husky.

​Finally, she looked up at him. Their eyes met, her gaze searching his, but for what exactly wasn't clear.

​"The Force called. So I came. This time, I do not understand why it did. I wasn't needed."

​At least, not that she could see. The confusion was clear in her voice.

The sound of [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]'s command echoed between the precarious pillars the two knelt beneath, but seemed to not impact on the still moment between the Jedi and the Sith. They had, after all, already stood down.

​But where would it go from there? She didn't know.

​

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

As the droid soldiers marched towards him to restrain him and take him captive, Xavka simply continued to sit in seiza, staring quietly at frozen form of his fellow Iridonian. Flecks of ash, no longer impeded by his Force Barrier, began to settle onto his person once more, flecks of white corrupting what had once been a seamless and unending wave of black robes into something similar to the night sky on a planet not polluted by the advancement of technology over nature. It struck him as amusing that, his earlier thoughts of the pair of Zabraks being mirrored images, reflections of the other in a different spectrum of the Force, had continued to maintained as truth. He who had embraced his feral instincts verses her who had shunted them. He who loved movement over stillness, especially in battle, and she who did not. He who clad himself in black and Darkness and she who clad herself in white and Light. He who had fought but shed no blood and she who had chosen not to but now had rivulets of blood staining her robes.

However, as the cold grip of droid hands would wrap around his arms and lift his relenting body out of the seiza, and marching him away, when the Waves of Darkness had battered against their minds, he had born witness to the wasteland of ice and craggy mountains that was her mind. Silver, white and navy painting a landscape as a storm of snow swirled around the mental representation of A'dele, the defenses that lined her mind there to keep something out in just as much as out. The understanding that one was not perfect was locked within her mind, as a sin to hide. And that was what broke the idea of opposites for, when A'dele would have peered into his own mind, she would have witness the same suppressed knowledge.

When his mental barriers had fallen, A'dele would have seen a landscape ravaged by sandstorms surrounding her. Sea upon endless sea of sand reaching forever outwards, the burning sun above bearing down harshly and flying sand and harsh winds would cut at any who reached forward into his mind proper. Yet, as his focus had wavered, so had his defenses, and their truth had been exposes. Whispers of thoughts, in the appearance of a mind, had come from beneath the sand from the bedrock sheltered bellow, but A'dele would have heard those whispers falter for a moment and disjointed, half-there thoughts take their place. As the winds broke for a moment, the other half of those thoughts would be heard coming from the sun above before the howling returned and before her, she would have seen the form of Xavka in all his secrets appear, formed out of the sandstorm. The truth, as she would perceive, was that Xavka's mind had no defense, his mind was the defense. Instead of surrounding himself with solid barriers, his mind was separated into the desert, the sun and the storm each one working together in an unseen pattern as a false mind lay beneath the desert. And whenever one part of his mind was corrupted by some outside force, the other parts would wipe away the corruption, just as the storm would throw A'dele out of his mind, but not before she would hear the self-hating thoughts that he, Xavka, was not perfect, that he would never be and that he would forever bear the burden of failure.

Being marched away, a small smirk would pull at Xavka's lips for a moment before his gaze would finally be torn from the form of A'dele Adonai and instead directed to the form of the droid that commanded the army that now held him captive, a fleeting thought echoing through the dissolving mental connection before it would collapse and the mental barriers of the two Iridonians would cut themselves off once more. 'I do hope that we can continue our interesting conversation, my dear.' A faint chuckled would herald the collapse of the mental communication.


[member="Adele Adonai"] | [member="HK-36"]

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Location: Inysh
Allies: GA [member="Geloyra Malleus"] [member="Sieb Tevv"] [member="Zark"] [member="Siriwook"]
Enemies: Sith [member="Jagger Fuga"] [member="Maizono"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Suravi Teigra"]
Objective: Deal with the neurosedative shortage

Cathul knew better than to expect a lot of the medical personnel to even have seen Wookiees among the staff, probably more likely as patients. As she made use of Force-healing as a neurosedative, much in the way she used it as such on herself (albeit with the side effect that her mental activity spikes before it goes down, but here she used Force-healing to treat a patient with convulsions), the Force-neurosedative started to kick in, after first encountering resistance, much like she tried on Stardust on that day where she stopped practicing therapy. It might not have worked on Stardust until much later, that is, until she trashed the baat'kaysh office with generous applications of beatings and dark-sided powers. But here the patient was a little unstable for a while, just not to the point of wanting to smash everything. It would seem that the medical staffer asked for neurosedatives because the staffer diagnosed something that required anaesthesia to treat, but neurosedatives are first required so that the patient would respond to the anaesthesia.

"Wow, just... wow. Could you please take over the care of that patient, admiral? I'll take care of another patient that does not require neurosedatives" the medical staffer told Cathul, awed by such a display of Force-healing.

"Oh yes, that I will do"

Pulmonary lacerations using poisoned implements, broken limbs, looks like many patients come through to Inysh for pretty serious traumas. Fractured skull, cerebral lesions, par for the course for warzone injuries, she thought, while using telekinesis to remove the broken bone shards, leaving the skull exposed around the fracture. For any manner of fractures, she uses Art of the Small to grow a splint where the bones are broken, and then grow back the bone tissue around the fracture. Then she would mend the blood vessels because the bone shards cut blood vessels. But she needed to be quick, internal hemorrages can be deadly if not adequately taken care of, so her concentration would be fully on the patient's injuries. She estimated that a blood transfusion would be called for due to the time it took for the patient to be treated. But it was of little use to get transfusions done without having first stabilized the blood vessels around the lesion.

"Perform a blood transfusion on this patient, stat!" she ordered while holding the blood sample so that the medical droids would fetch the proper blood pouch.

"Roger"

I've lost track of Geloyra, but I hope that she knows what she is doing. My Wookiee is a little shaken to discover that not everyone will be as understanding as I am. I try to be open to the best of my ability but sometimes my poor bedside manner can cost me dearly as a medical practitioner. Actually it did. That's why I no longer am a therapist and, well, no longer a Mandalorian either: Mandos trusted me only as far as my ability to do therapy could take them. Plus Mando Jedi thought aruetiise Jedi were playing games of musical chairs with their functions at a much faster pace than they do. Mine was as follows: one day I am a Force-healer and the next day I am an admiral, she thought, and later resuming the care of the patient, because she needed time to recollect herself, while the Wookiee took the time to recover her Force-energies as well.

Therapy Command (4300m):

Spoiler

ANS Hero of Coruscant (Mateus-class fleet carrier): 2000m
ANS Yag'dhul (Dreadnought Mk3): 700m
ANS Vandelhelm (Dreadnought Mk3): 700m
ANS Moenia (Nebulon B7): 300m
ANS Otoh Sancture (Nebulon B7): 300m
ANS Spinnaker (Nebulon B7): 300m

Attack craft (deployed in a defensive screen):
144 T-70 X-Wings
60 BB-2 bombers

NJO ships:

Spoiler

In-system:

ANS Tylenol (Cardea-class medical cruiser): 790m
ANS Pharmacokinetics (Cardea-class medical cruiser): 790m
ANS Bestine (Acclamator-class assault ship): 752m

Inbound:

ANS Ritalin (Saint-class SAR craft) 250m
ANS Prozac (Saint-class SAR craft) 250m

 

[Riimaurus]

Location: Thracior
Post: 5
Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: The Sith
Objective: Ensure the safety of Thracior

Riimaurus received a response from the Ambassador he would stay to ensure the protection of the planet. “Counselor, I need that you take some of the troopers with you to the Tantt’s capitol city and ensure they will keep with their word. If possible I want you to start prepare the grounds for a Galactic Alliance Embassy and I will try do the same around here.” Said confidently the Chiss. “Alright, I will be leaving as soon as possible, Diplomat.” Assured to Riimaurus. “You, you and you with me.” Said the Counselor to the selected few troopers that would leave with him. “We will eat something and then leave. Be prepared to any conflict we might face.” Then he left with the troopers. “Well, seem to be just us now. Let’s talk with the Warlord, again. He must be tired of seeing our faces, but someone has to bring the news, right?” The troopers looked at each other awkwardly. “Why you guys are looking so weird?” One of the soldiers stood up. “This has been a tiring day and we would like to take a break.” Riimaurus had to hold a laughter. “Really! I thought that you guys would be more though. You wouldn’t survive a day at a Chiss military academy, but that’s okay I can manage it on my own. Take your break I want to see you back at one hour.” The soldiers did not waste their time with his provocation and left to wherever they would spend their time.

The Chiss was once more in front of the Warlord’s throne. “I see that you haven’t left.” Said the grand Warlord. “No, the GA decided to keep me here so I can assure the safety of Thracior.” The Lord looked a little riled up. “The GA doesn’t think that I’m capable of protecting my own people.”
“In no such way we think that. We believe in your capability, but we’re here to help. The enemy is strong and Thracior will need any help it can get.” Explained the Chiss trying to calm down the Warlord. “But how you and a couple of soldiers can make any difference?” Asked the Ruler “I’m not alone if the enemy attack I will warn the Alliance and they will send enforcements. Also, me and my men are more suitable to combat then it appears.” Answered the young Diplomat. “So, you aren’t just a politician?”
“I’m not a politician at all actually. I was assigned to this job but I have military training, but I’m also good with words. I’ll give a walk to learn more about the city and then I’ll be back to support you, Warlord.” Riimaurus left the palace and took his through the city.

 

[Joza Perl]

Palace
Gear: 2x Standard Lightsabers, Sasori Medium Armor, AI Wrist Blaster, VT Needle Disruptor, Tactical Fighting Blade
Allies: [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"], [member="HK-36"], [member="Elpsis Elaris"], [member="Adele Adonai"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Elliot Locke"], GA and allies
Enemies: Sith and allies?

Taking a few moments to responded, Joza grunted. “Yeah.” Turning towards the retreating forms of Elpsis and HK-36, she jogged lightly to catch up, removing her helmet for the time being and clipping it to the side of her armor. Things were beginning to wind down, and that it no way meant that the danger was over—but the least she could do was spare a few moments to wipe the blood from her face. In any sort of fight, it always seemed that her nose was the first victim…and seeing as how it was a bit crooked after much rebreakage and healing, perhaps a prosthetic was in order.

Putting two fingers from her good arm against her ear where her commlink earpiece rested, she tapped into the frigate’s communication line. “Ivan? Can you hear me?” Seeing as how the storm had dissipated, speaking to him should be easier.

“The hell is going on?” An obviously grumpy but frantic pilot replied. “Do you need backup?” He’d been keeping out of the fight, edging on Atrisia’s space until he’d heard back from either her or Nate. “Yes, but not in the way you think. It looks like the fighting is over, but the place is a mess. Send down a company or two for relief efforts only. No combat, but be vigilant.” Gazing out into the ruins of the city as they passed through them, she nearly shivered. Hopefully this peace was not momentary, and the GA could negotiate something with the local ruler. “Be careful.”

As two dropships carrying Outback Marines deployed with the intention of bringing what aid they could, Joza wiped the remaining blood from beneath her nose and around her lips. “What you said before…you know Si—Lady Kerrigan?” She turned towards Elpsis, speaking with more interest than she had in the heat of the battle.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

[member="Joza Perl"], [member="HK-36"], [member="Symara Tarriq"]


"Sio? Yeah, I know her. Not that way, in case you're wonderin'," Elpsis quipped. She pulled off her beskar helmet, for she was starting to feel a bit claustophobic inside it. Her red hair, tied back into a practical ponytail, was tousled and vaguely sweaty from being enclosed for so long. She had speckles of sweat under her vacant, dead eyes. The girl walked with a pronounced limp.


"She's my aunt. Not by blood, but family's more than that. She told me about you. BTW. You're real cute. How's the kid?" It seemed that staying on topic wasn't one of Elpsis' strengths, since she seemed to leap about a lot.


Things were peaceful as they passed through the city's ruins. Or rather as quiet and peaceful as a graveyard. At least that's how it seemed like to Elpsis. Some civilians had come out to look upon their liberators - or occupiers - many were still hiding. She saw an Atrisians child cautiously peek out of the doorway, before looking away once she locked eyes with the beskar-clad firemane. Elpsis brought forth a ration bar and tossed the packet towards the little girl.


"All this for what? 'I can't have the planet, so I'll ruin it as much as possible?' Arseholes. Should just burn all the Sith alive," she muttered, disdain and hatred creeping into her tone. In the distance, one could see mountain cliffs and the Imperial palace.

"I'm alright," he said simply, the lightsaber falling from his hands. All at once, the ethereal energies he'd held within him were released. His body became illuminated in a light of shining colors: a miniature supernova that lived for the barest fraction of a second.

Then came darkness, and finally nothing. The armor fell to the concrete with a dull thud. Robes and bits of cloth followed next. The being whom had worn them was long gone, not even a hair left of him. All that remained of Cyril Grayson was the refuse left in the wake of his ascension. His presence was gone, washed from the physical plane for all eternity.

Elpsis tensed when she suddenly felt a massive eruption of Force energy coming from inside. A bright flash erupted from the palace, then it was gone and she felt the ethereal energies dissipate. Where there had been a presence strong in the Force, now there was nothingness. It was not rocket science to connect the dots. "Figures. The would-be overlord bailed like a coward. See you in hell. May the Black Wolf punish you."

 

[Reverance]

Location: Atrisia, Palace of Jar'kai
Objective: To leave this place
Nearby: [member="Alecandria"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Darth Vitium"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] and the Galactic Alliance Horde
The Horde: [member="Adele Adonai"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] (total jerk) | [member="Seras Rose"] | [member="Spencer Varanin"] | [member="HK-36"] | [member="Elpsis Elaris"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Darth Erebos"] | [member="Adas James Malgus"] | [member="Veino Garn"] | [member="Draco Vereen"]

He heard the words of the oncoming Galactic Alliance and friends, all framed together to make quite the persuasive argument. He remained kneeling, relaxed before his new found frenemy. Listening to her words, he wouldn't so openly admit that he didn't entirely understand. She spoke of Sekot, the being who held sway over Zonoma. All those who were schooled in the way of the Vong, they understood this. As much as the Yun'O was a component of their heritage, so was the sentient planet that guided them away from ravaging of an intergalactic war. The planet that sought peace among the flames.

It only made sense that it would call to this person before him.

Like a light switch, his flipped over to reveal something beyond the animosity. The One Sith Remnant, and all that it stood for, crumbled beneath the weight of this faction and all of it's alliances. There was no more, no residue of the dark lord left among the cinders. Charred briquettes and the remains of an armor sat before [member="Darth Vitium"], the atrophy of the One Sith finally shrinking to the point of non existence. The insult that had angered him was a meager one and the kindling of peaceful notions only fueled his hatred further. But now, without the taint of the One Sith to focus him, he found little purpose here beyond these few moments shared.

"Not needed..." His tongue ticked as he inspected the tattered courtyard ceiling with a lazy gaze. "You may have saved lives today." Reluctant as he was to admit it - She stood proper distraction for the mania that still lurked beneath a now different expression. Breathing in deeply, he made eye contact with her once more. "I suspect your death would have had profound impact on me."

Had he the time to soak in the pleasure of her pain, he might have wallowed in it for days on end. Such was his nature, gluttonous swine happy to swim in the soup of things. But imminent consequence was rapping loudly on his front door from the whims of a posse, formed out of obvious convenience. Teasing out the notions of scraping delicate shoulder with the sharpened, neurotoxin laden, nails of the voxyn arm, he lifted himself from the ground with a heavy sigh. He couldn't enjoy that pain, it would serve him no purpose. "You are wasted on the likes of them..." Deep beneath the intent of taking her pain for his own purpose, he left something behind. Perhaps it was a memory, perhaps just the feeling. It would be for her to sort out, the fragment of his presence as an intended impact.

His grip tightened around the hilt of the saber, the force manifestation of the hilt making itself known once more. The blackened tendrils of the saber swirled out and away from Beth, striking towards the ground, structural columns, and the group that had gathered behind him. Turning his gaze towards the leader, speaking with some fashion of authority, Reverance turned to face those who stood there. How quickly, it seemed, that they turned against those who paralleled their own purpose. The alliance, in his experience, was blind to such things. There was never an effort that more closely resembled a proper crusade. He would give them that.

"There is nothing left to stand for...not here." With that, the power he had siphoned from the Jedi, in the form of pain converted, he released from his left hand. Not intended to strike any specific person, the telekinetic series of pushes and waves was the last straw required to break the proverbial back of the roof that stood above them. It was all as frail as a structure could be, a house of cards built upon sand. And he had no desire to fight here, nor be imprisoned within the infamous magma cells of the Galactic Alliance. So when the rubble cleared, the ash and soot and debris mixed together, they would find his person absent, along with the monstrous echo of his force presence.

Spoiler

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"]
-------------------

The healing finished, Veino strode towards the nearest doorway, replacing his helmet as directions and issued through the comm. He paused to look back at the other two, "We have some Sith Lords in the vicinity still. Moving to assist." The helmet sealed as it finally settled down and he strode from the room. The healing had taken some out of him. Not much, with their combined abilities, but he didn't have the capabilities he once had. That was something he would have to work on again.

Start gardens, meditate, and train. Do everything he could to cultivate his sensitivity to the Force. That would come later, however. There was still a great deal of work to do here in this sector. Especially after this catastrophe. He wound his way to the outside of the palace, joining the group outside. It was a surprisingly group of Alliance affiliated individuals- many of whom he had not seen in a very long time.

He gave a nod as he joined them, just as the one thing collapsed and the one person vanished. Missed the excitement again. The thought pulled a wry smile from his face, but nobody saw it beneath the helmet. He was the worst at this sort of thing. Always arriving at the wrong times and ending up in awkward circumstances. So be it.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"I'm sure you could, little heart-breaker." Draco said as he laughed, pulling his crushgaunt back over his hand gingerly, trying his best not to jar it and cause him anymore pain. He was trying not to focus on dampening the pain he was feeling to conserve what strength and power he had left for if they had to fight again. The Warlord moved through the building, shooting or kicking over random paraphernalia within the palace as they walked, holding his arm against his chest as they went. The Palace was mostly silent, and those fanatically atrisians had stood down. It was a shame that they didn't fight to the last, that would have culled out the fanactically loyal Sith Worshiping sychophants from the population, but he supposed it was better this way. Many of the Mythos-Youth could still be saved, and many of the old remembered the times before the One Sith came and conquered their once proud people.

Draco grinned behind his mask as he read the latest message he had received.

//To: [member="Faith Organa"]
Yes, I broke my arm. Its okay though. Set it and stuff. Veino is here, he shot me. That's how I got my arm broken.

And you are my treasure and the owner of my booty, a treasure I claim as well. I like that nickname, its a good fit. Fits better than my socks.
//End

Draco's smile became mischeivious inside his helmet as he finished texting Faith across the continent. She was already seeing to rebuilding the planet and uniting the people that were left after the destruction wrought by the Sith and their leaders. No doubt they would be grateful, no longer cattle for the One Sith and their lackeys. She had that kind of personality. People enjoyed following her, for a couple of reasons, but they felt like she would sacrifice for them, not sacrifice them. They were right of course, she had a history of making sacrifices for her people and her friends, even for those that were just in need that she had no ties to.

What little of his strength he continued to use remained focused on his injured arm, the Force directing the healing of his bones, merging cell after cell together. He would be recovering for a few days before he was fully healed for sure, but he would be okay. If he had to use it, he could, though not without significant pain radiating through it.

After a moment the trio made their exit out of the main Palace gates. "Palace secure Marshal Voidstalker." Draco called out as he walked through the large ornate gates of the Palace and onto the steps. How it must feel to have their enemies leaving from their bastion Draco could only imagine. It was a good thing they couldn't see the smirk on his face that would add insult to injured pride.

Draco fell in to the group of Jedi Masters, knights, and warriors of the Alliance and their allies. It was an impressive array of power portrayed about by the allied forces. Draco noticed the Sith Lord Erebos and the heavily, visibly corrupted teenage king who had ordered his old, his women, and his children to the front line against trained and fully equipped soldiers and warriors. He had some remarks about that, but now was not the time to discuss the execution or magma prisoning of those around them. Now was the time to watch them both closely until the battle was done.

[member="Veino Garn"] [member="Joza Perl"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Elpsis Elaris"], [member="Draco Vereen"], [member="Veino Garn"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Bethany Kismet"],

HK and his two copies, all three of them clutching lightsabers, fell into the line with the other Masters, their heavy cloaks flapping against the breeze softly. There were Jedi among them, paragons of virtue, and then those like Elpsis or HK that would not mind literally ripping someone's head off or burning them alive, honor-bound Mandalorians, and sly rogues, humans, aliens, even droids. Each of them took a very different path to get where they were, each of them was so different, except HK's copies, it was just more of him, but one thing brought them together that day, they were the Coalition Of The Willing To Kick Ass,

“Stand down!”

As Jacen addressed [member="Darth Vitium"], Beth, and Reverance before he escaped, HK looked aside to whoever was willing to listen, probably Elpy or Draco,

"Guys,"

He whispered in soft monotone,

"We look so f*cking wizard right now."

It was one of those rare moments when using the exotic curse-words from a planet in Galaxy far far away (Earth) seemed appropriate.

 

[Ranga Desilijic Boga]

Post 19
Location: Thebeon, crashing

Zafar, keeping his composure, looked out of the cockpit window. The ground was just seconds away, and the light grew stronger. He turned to his twin brother, still unconscious, spoke to him.

"It's been a good run old pal, glad to have been able to spend it with you."

A faint smile crossed Tuuka's face as the ship slammed into the hard earth. Zu'Qui was still at his post when he saw the flaming ship go by. He stood over a mound and saluted as the ship crashed, then spoke.

"I'm proud to have served you sir, it was fun."

A Rodian private stepped up and played a memorial song on a trumpet (kinda like how the US military does), then turned and walked off. The smoldering wreckage could be seen in the distance, and Zu'Qui was certain that he was dead.