Junction The Great Battle of Coruscant | Second Great Hyperspace War | Junction of GA-Selvaris, NIO-Raydonia, BotM-Shihon, SJC-Myrkr, AC-Ventooine

[Ishida Ashina]

THE PRIZE DAUGHTER | ASHINA HEIR
CORUSCANT | BUSINESS DISTRICT | SOME PLAZA
LIGHT THINKS IT TRAVELS FASTER THAN ANYTHING, BUT ITS WRONG
NO MATTER HOW FAST LIGHT TRAVELS
IT FINDS THE DARKNESS HAS ALWAYS GOT THERE FIRST,
AND IS WAITING FOR IT

ASHINA'S CRISIS​

The first strike was always meant to hit something. But usually, it didn’t meet much resistance. Usually, it was severely underestimated (emphasis on sever). Usually, it cut right through whatever she hit. Usually.

This time was different.

Very different.

It had been years since Ashina steel had met Ashina steel. Years since she’d felt a contention that jarred her the way this did, and even longer since she’d heard that unmistakable shrill bark of the same meeting the same. A small, shocked; ‘uh!’ hopped out between them. Eyes widened, and a trill of disbelief rolled through her body at the same time her muscles flared against the resistance, attempting to buffer against the jarring riposte. He shifted, and with the element of surprise on his side, he managed to disorient the trajectory of her right hand, flinging it out to the side and shifting her momentum. She had to clear the space, had to get away from the shared vicinity of this attacker lest she be skewered by a sword that was reserved only for those of Hebo, Atrisia. Only for family and honourable graduates of The School of The Carp.

Her sabre, more successful, was relegated to an afterthought. A fluid carry-through motion that she’d expected and thus took up no more space in the tactical arena of her combative mind.

Rolling through the motion, she wrapped herself up with momentum and confusion before righting with the fingertips of her katana hand partly pressed to the ground and the sabre hovering behind her back, landing in a crouch. He was ready and afforded her no break, bearing down instantly.

There was a modicum of expectation for that. Anybody who brandished Ashina steel had to earn it one way or another. Either through family, honourable graduation, or killing the original owner. Which was it? Who was this? Who had they killed?

Her mind raced with possibilities. The owners of such steel, such craftsmanship were few. She could count them on both her hands. Panic started to grip — who had this mercenary taken from the Ashina family tree? Inosuke was safe, Konrad was still armed, her father was still alive, her grandfather’s sword was still placed safely——

Such mysteries had to go unsolved in the heat of the moment, and the tormented expression she bore shifted to something more useful for the little warrior.

Rather than mourning the loss of whoever this person had murdered, she would get the chance to avenge them. From a worthy killer.

Forced excitement swelled within her, and she feigned out a wicked grin. It felt false; like she was tricking herself. She was, of course.

“Who did you kill for that.” She levelled out the accusation a breath before she reacted to the riposte.

Her mind flared as she leaped backward, tensing to make herself smaller and a more nimble target. Sabre would have to meet sabre, and steel to steel. Otherwise, she’d be down a weapon. But— so would he. Then it would truly be like days of long past, where students practiced with the legendary steel and sticks.

Ishida twisted out, pointing her feet ot the side to let the initial plunge sail past her midsection, at the same time bringing her sabre back inside his guard, and elbowing against his outstruck arm to disarm him. The strike to the shins was trickier to dodge, and the steel slashed against her calf.

AUGH! She’d forgotten how much it hurt.

What that bite of steel against flesh felt like. It instantly cut through the leather of her boots and to the flesh and muscle beneath, blood quick to stain the metal and she shoved her own blade in to dissuade the influence of its pressure and stop the depth of its impact. Prain raced excitedly through her leg, up through her hip and abdomen, searching for a way out. It found it in the sound of a hissing sort of growl as she clenched through the stinging.All around the same time her senses flared with a sort of familiarity. At this proximity, so close, The Force had whispers that made her hiccup her accuracy –– which was at least appropriately timed for the intrusion of Konrad’s chord.

ASHINA CLAN​

---

ALLIES | NJO | SJC | GA | Konrad Harrsk
NOT ALLIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | He Who Was Lost

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the M I S T R E S S
M A L C O N T E N T​

Location: The icky jedi temple​

Enemy: jedi Jax Thio | Caltin Vanagor | Rannan Kol​

'Why did I go?' she began to wonder as the energy of the empyrean caused a nauseousness and sheer pain throughout her entire body. Then she felt a distasteful disturbance in the Force…"Jax Thio," a hypocritical jedi like most, filled with hatred for those born unto the nature of Darkness, obsessed to murder…almost as relentless in his pursuit of the Nightsister as…

Pom identified another presence, one she had rid of herself long ago, and had actually forgotten about since. The signature sprung from this place as if it belonged here, in this land of perfection, yet useless to anyone among the living who comes into it; she likened the Empyrean to a place of atonement, while she is not one ever to be found seeking anything of the sort. Spasa, her spiritually diametrical opposite exists here somewhere, and that cannot be allowed to continue. Her existence is a threat to the Nightsister and everything she has built herself to represent.

'How shall I make my mark upon this place?' After all the Light is always trying to force itself upon everything that does not line up with its spiritual and social commandments. Hell encroached upon the galactic core and there is far more at stake than that of physical existence. The nexus of Light which leads the jedi to be just as they are, fueling their disdain for all life indifferent, is at the heart of this physical plane, with portholes connecting here and there; spacial physics is of no consequence. Pom stands just within it's threshold. 'If only @Carnifex were here. He would know exactly what ought be done.' Her trust in him is unwavering. His knowledge of things opposite their existence far outweighs her own, and yet the Matriarch is found ever in study of what he passes down to her.

In all of it, a familiarity tugs at the back of her mind. 'No doubt all this is only a fabrication of a snippet that survived of Spasa, perhaps a snippet of her half of my soul remains sheltered form harm here.'

Reaching out in his mind to her, Jax spoke his threat as Pom assumed he would and as he always does. His awareness to her presence is a lasting effect of her magickal assault suffered upon him during their last encounter. "Here I thought I hadn't left a lasting impression,"[/b] she teased, her words reaching out for his ears only, between realms. "I have come to witness your death as a jedi. Come. Find me, and together we will snuff out the Light within you. See that this Ashla has no permanent power. If it did, how is it that I am able to waltz right into its midst and affect it so terribly?"[/b]

At her words the tear which stands as a gateway into the Empyrean glistened not far from where Jax ponders her whereabouts in the great jedi temple. The Sith, unleashing their incredible Darkside Force, clashes so immensely with the Lightside, disrupting it's serenity. The affect ought bombard all devotees to either extreme alignment existing nearby, with an intense pang of dizziness and nausea.

"Come," she coaxed.

Where PomStychTivé the Vengeful observed her personal affect upon the Empyrean, the foliage withered and died before she even approached it with her footsteps.

'Spasa must die just as this.'​

​

 

[Derix Tirall]

P O W E R
HIGH REGENT OF THE FINAL DAWN
COURSCA SECTOR | COURSCANT | SENATE DISTRICT

​

The time for planning had long since expired. For the first time in decades, Courscant was not safe. But was it ever? The New Sith Order had abandoned their cloak and dagger operations, shedded their monikers and aliases. The march on the New Jedi Temple had already begun, columns of red-plated solders of the dark side climbing up the stairs of the once pristine chapel of the light. This might not have been an invasion, but the reaction was undeniable: War had come to the Queen of the Core.

And the Final Dawn was not far behind.

For years, even the most accomplished of intelligence agencies were baffled. If the Brotherhood of the Maw were a terrorist organization, how could it have possibly gathered the material to make not one, but two superweapons? Where did it gather the resources for it's mighty fleets? Why couldn't they loose, even once? To answer those questions, they all looked outward, beyond the confines of their supreme authority when the answer to it all was always shining bright from within.

By the time they realized it had been far too late. Tirall could only wish to see the faces of the stunned New Jedi Order when Kaigann Fossk revealed himself to be the Dark Lord they had been searching for. Where had he heard that story before?

It was tantalizing, exhilarating even. To cripple the Alliance, and crush the Jedi in feel swoop. The Senate could fare no better than the Jedi, and the ever marching army that poured into the grand temple of democracy was a testament to that fact.

"Search the building" He ordered with a wry grin, "Leave no stone unturned, no Senator alive"

"My Lord!"

The 360 Degree turn nearly gave him whiplash, but nontheless there he was, a former Alliance General turned commanding officer of the High Regent's personal escort. "We found a tunnel, an entrance of some kind"

"Why would there be a tunnel in the Senate building" He asked with a slight hint of annoyance. Surely the tunnel couldn't have been new, otherwise it would have been used. The General scratched his head, before shrugging his shoulders. A true tactical genies.

"Very well, shall we"

Aerarii Tithe | OPEN​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...​

Location: Coruscant - Jedi Temple - Great Hall

Spoiler: Lightsabers

"ELOAH" (Secondary - Long Handle)

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)

Spoiler: GEAR

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added)Advanced Jedi Utility Belt

Spoiler: STARSHIP/COMPANIONS

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Jedi Interceptor in landing bay, Dilorian and Bike both in cargo bay)
Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"

Tag: (engaging directly) @Rannan Kol
Everyone else I want to talk to

: Dagon Kaze Zark San Tekka Cotan Sar'andor Yula Perl Geiseric Okkeus Dainlei Black Mynock Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Bernard of Arca Jax Thio Inosuke Ashina Heinrich Faust Aeris Lashier The Doppelganger Rhis Fisto Viera Thalia Senn Phalsi Drynchen Aayla Shan Henna Sarratt Ishida Ashina Romi Jade

“Winners operate three steps ahead, Champions let their opponents think they are three steps ahead...” - Anonymous​

“Don’t overthink it” was something that Caltin’s master used to drill into his head. He was big and strong, and already had a unique approach to the Force before his change, Master Navaria taught him to embrace that. Caltin’s training was spent utilizing his specialties and that was what would help him in his life as a Jedi. Of course, the voice in the back of the big guy’s mind always made him wonder if this made him “one dimensional” but that would be something he would not need to address until he was knighted.

Once he was Knighted, he did, and the rest was history.

If Kol truly knew the big guy as well as he thought he was getting to, he would know that this was the most the massive Jedi Master had ever really used in single combat. Every approach was different to every fight, though he often would “wing it”, Caltin tailored his tactics to his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. Kol was no different except in that his approach was unique as well, Caltin wanted to see just how far he could go with one approach without using another. Now that he had seen the smirk on the “DeeJay”’s face, the big guy could go on with just how he wanted.

His repetitive attacks were effective, sure enough, but they were appearing to give Kol the feeling that Caltin was the “one-trick Dewback” that his appearance had long suggested he was.

All of this time he could have been “Altering the Environment” through the Force like he had once thought about, but that would have brought Caltin back little data about his opponent. This guy was not the “polar opposite” of the big guy, but they were very similar to each other, and that was why Caltin was not resorting to his tried and true primary usage of his lightsaber and physical capabilities, resorting to little use of the Force other than healing, controlling pain and pacing in an attempt to outlast his foes.

Now? Why not. He could even play into Kol’s assertion.

Furrowing his brow, curling his upper lip, the massive Jedi Master gripped Conservator with both hands and yelled out in his best possible active voice

[Royalblue]I’ll show you “small”!

The next thing that Kol would see (if it worked) was Caltin slowly turning to stone and growing even more in size, his lightsaber changing, bursting into flames. His body began to crackle and shake… after a few moments of this, he would explode into thousands of sedimentary pieces flying out everywhere and all that was left was the ball of pure energy that he appeared to be made of.

[Royalblue]Can I stop this?

This tone, his speaking pattern… well it was obvious that Caltin was laughing hard. A moment later, everything was normal as the big guy was standing there, weapon down at his side. He could feel another, Halketh trying to affect his mind, Caltin was tired of that Sorceror and pushed back. Nothing but recurring images of bright, intense light almost as if one was staring straight into a supernova. If the Sorceror wanted more, the big guy would oblige. Getting back to Kol, Caltin just looked at him as if the games should be over at this point.

[Royalblue]If you’re done trying to get in my head, let’s get back to this.

There was actually no disrespect intended in this, the big guy just didn’t believe in that approach, it was just not him. He could have let it play on further and let Kol dig his own hole deeper, but Caltin would not fight dirty. So why not have a little fun with it?

The Dark Jedi Master was squirmy, contorting, bouncy ball of a fight, much like a Jedi GrandMaster Caltin once had the pleasure of learning Ataru from. Caltin hated the Form, not out of impracticality, it was a highly effective lightsaber form, it’s just that the big guy felt like he was in a “bounce house” and that he was disrespecting any dedicated practitioners by using it consistently. Anyway, back to Kol, he was fast, and that required more focus. Kol’s mastery of two blades was more than evident, but Caltin was more than proficient in them as well and used the oxygen in the room to increase the wind blowing around them. Several times Kol would notice that his weapons were not necessarily contorting where he had necessarily wanted them to and set up “half-moon” defenses, angling one blade into the other and pinning them together, even if only momentarily.

Jax was trying to intercede and it was nice of him to do so, but the big guy? He fought alone and while he didn’t like the thought of his descendant being injured, the Maverick would have to hold his own elsewhere. They would have to have a talk soon, the big guy doubted the Thio knew the truth, that he and Caltin were “blood relatives” but it could wait, and if the Knight was going to keep the focus he needed, it would have to.

Kol’s saber connected effectively into Caltin’s knee, but not as much as he would have hoped. The big guy was able to use Tutaminis before the appendage severed. The push that came soon afterward sent the big guy flying backward, taking out a statue of Master Galen Marek. That was actually a blessing, maybe for Kol, but definitely for Caltin as while he staggered to his feet, the big guy was very much in the fight. Kol may see himself as wearing the big guy down…

Who was getting in whose head?

I could do this all day.

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

 

[He Who Was Lost]

Konrad Harrsk Ishida Ashina

The ringing of steel on steel was impossible to forget. Visions of the past flashed across the edge of his consciousness. He remembered past techniques, tests, failures and successes. Rigid training regimens saw the former corrected, a reality that the Ashina shared. No room for failure, a truth that he had eventually come to terms with under her Father's roof.

“Who did you kill for that.”

He scoffed.

She escaped from him as expected. She was fast, but his longer strides made up for it. Just as soon as she had decided to create distance, it closed again. Instead of plunging the blade into her abdomen and impaling the ivory haired Ashina heir, she twisted past it and into his guard. Bypassing his saber, her elbow crashed into the outstretched limb, a diminished pain shot up the appendage, and with the momentum, the saber slipped out of his hand, clattering across the ground.

Simultaneously, the Ashina Steel bit into her calf. Their close proximity, the fight, they were linked in a way that only combatants could understand. Heightened by the Force it was like an ambrosia that spurned him on as his eyes widened with the ethereal warning that sparked at the back of his mind.

He twisted, his free hand outstretched, and there was a brief glint of metal. As he spun around, the chord wrapped around his leg. In the shared moment, from the depths of his long sleeved robes, circular discs spun out. Most of them were fired in a manner to miss - his arm wasn't even aimed directly at Konrad - but the adjusted firing arc of the MK-127 ensured that he was in his sights nevertheless.

He did not taste satisfaction from seeing the deadly discs carve furrows into Harrsk's torso. An electrical charge ran up the length of the cable. Immediate and painful. It coursed through him like a burning wave, all centered at the spot around his ankle as it raced through the limb. Forcing his body to contort and twist sharply. All the while, his breath caught as dark eyes clouded over.

The Ashina Steel blade snapped downwards, slicing through the chord in a brief moment of triggered muscle memory. His stance wavered, and he stumbled after taking a step.

"Always... Too weak," he panted. "To fight... Fair."

 

[Raus Garrat]

​

"This is it, lads. This is where we stand. None of us have heard much in the way of nearby units, seems our friends have their hands full." Raus' right hand trembled slightly as he swallowed his words. "I know I failed you all today; I know our cause might die here. But let's make them remember it forever. Down with their banners, damn their politics, and to the grave with their philosophies. There are too many great minds, too many stubborn hearts in this galaxy to just lay down."

Looking down at the floor momentarily, exhaling softly, Raus coped with the notion that everything he believed would fall apart before his very eyes. All the strife, all the loss, every day and night wondering - sleepless dreams that just so barely connected the gap to reality. What was a single man's vision to all else? Did it truly matter?

It will matter. It needs to.

He would make it.

"With that said... you all heard Skywatcher, Damnation Protocol is in effect. Pop your combat stims, all of them. We're gonna have ourselves one hell of a show. FOR NOVANIA!"

All of the cosairs nodded deeply and silently in agreement, their moment of truth also coming to light. Coppery hatred coated their tongues like venom, and they were more than eager to strike.

- Showtime -

Location: Senate District, Apartment Complex, Ground Floor
Allies: NIO | GA | ETC
Friendlies In Unit: 4x Imperial Corsairs
Situation: Self-Destructive

//WAR//

VENGEANCE

A cacophony of noise and violence filled the war-torn interior, dust and bodies occupied the space as more death followed, men wrestling in blood and grime as the corsairs viciously and mercilessly tore into their opposition like animals. Each one of them at high risk for heart failure due to the massive quantities of stimulant in their bloodstream, but that didn't stop them. They were numb to the material world, only dancing madly and savagely to the blood-soaked hypnosis. Their rhythm being that of Maw and Sith bones breaking under the weight of their internal scorn.

Raus himself was only to be seen covered in the viscera of a fallen warrior, crushing a knee into his chest as he beat him relentlessly with the buttstock of his rifle. His screams masked any doubt he had prior, and all he craved in this very moment was the total extermination of those attempting to take what is not theirs. Should this defense fail, then what would come of Novania? What would become of the Arkanian people he knew?

He refused such a reality. Even as a mortal, the will of a man can be heavier than the weight of a god's presence.

There will be salvation, and there will be a final word.

And it will be his. ​

 

[Anja Doreva]

ALLIES: BOTM | NSO
ENEMIES: GA | NJO | SJC | NIO | AC | Any other Jedi-huggers
ENGAGING: Aeris Lashiec | Kai Bamarri
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsabers
Force-imbued dual Phrik Blades
Phrik dagger
Dressed to kill
Company of Legion of Bone among which is the Ash Hellions - All led by General Samron Gerron
The Fortuna in orbit

O~~>PANDORA<~~O​

Why?

Her hesitation to interrupt the survival of the Jedi - to exact revenge - came as an immense surprise to the Lady of Conquest. A sneer contorted her mouth as she held the blade an inch away from the console.

“... Please.”

Again with the nice manners.

The crimson blade hovering over the console, disengaged and the hilt was clipped to her hip before she glanced back over her shoulder at the Jedi.
"I can obtain the complete preserved knowledge in other ways yes." she said. Knowledge of all kinds had high value for her. It was what fueled her conquests, after all.

So the ichor spear from the Abyss appeared in her empty hand and was hurled at the Jedi in one movement.

"Your well mannered, pretty head, on the other hand, holds no value to me." the Herald said, the void of the Nether echoing within her voice as she had used its power instead of the Bogan's. Her frustration at her own attack of conscience was bubbling over and lashing out at one that was almost innocent.

She had to get it out of her system.

She had just started to move forward once more to try and finish off the Consular when the Jedi's comms crackled to life, heralding the very reason she was here in the first place - the one who had set all this in motion.

Dagon Kaze 's voice stopped her dead in her tracks, jaw clenched.

~General Samron Gerron~
Flanked by the Ash Hellions
12/12 Legionnaires ready to engage
192/192 Legionnaires in reserve​

Samron should have known.

The boy moved wickedly fast, evading the CryoBan and making a beeline for the Falleen. Instantly ceasing the Cryo-stream, Samron, merely had time to angle his wrist somewhat so that the lightsaber would strike the side of the full-Phrik vambrace instead. The slight edge of the blade, however, did damage the Cryo-projector somewhat. At the same time, however, the blade in the same extended hand, was angled simultaneously with his arm to allow the advancing boy to run straight into it.

In the same moment, the blade in his other hand, struck over to attempt to sever the Jedi's sword arm as it struck the vambrace. With a deft pivot, he then spun to face the unnatural boy fully, both blades at the ready again.
"Not bad, Jedi. I'm impressed." he said as he glanced at the slightly damaged projector. Shuklaar Kyrdol had some repair work to do on his armour kit after all of this.

In Samron's peripheral, he could see Prefect Graves drawing his dirsuptor from his hip, ready to shoot. The man got trigger happy if a conflict was running a bit long for his taste.
<Not yet, Graves.> he said over their comms as he kept his eyes on the Jedi, the HUD working overtime.
<Just gimme the word, Sir.> came the curt reply. The man was getting annoyed with all the space wizards. The Falleen could not blame him.

Samron would not be surprised if he, himself, walked out of here with some extra grey hairs.

 

[Greer Caimbeulaich]

Tags: Vaxis Jedi Master Sir Blair

The tiny Phoenix pulled hard to the left as Greer struggled to dodge flak bursts, the space over Coruscant was insane, she didn't know why she had come here but knew she had to respond, she didn't know how many, or even if any other Jedi had responded, not least from the Ashlans. The darkness over the world made it impossible distiguisj individual force psyches.

Brother Vaxis message came as a welcome reply as she broke through the blockade and into the lower atmosphere, coruscant was burning from numerous attacks.

"Master Vaxis, I am approaching the temple and will arrive shortly, I am switching to receive Ambrose location and will join as soon as I land, have you heard from my master?" Greer replied, she wish she knew where her master was, she wondered if he was already tied up in this, she suspected though that she may run into silver jedis from her previous traning and she hoped that they were safe.

She landed her fighter on the top of a non-descript building, she didn't know why she picked that building over her initial target of the security centre, but it just felt right. As she landed, she was greeted by Brothwe Amrose who was already there, in the perfect spot to greet her.

Greer jumped out of the cockpit and was immediately confronted with blaster fire, she flung a force barrier in front of her, giving her the few seconds she needed to draw and ready her saber.

 

[Rannan Kol]

Location: Coruscant, Great Hall of the Jedi Temple
Equipment: The Dark Sacraments, Apostles Vestments
Allies: The Maw
Enemies: The Jedi; Caltin Vanagor
Others: Jax Thio , Pom Stych Tivé

---

​

An illusion or was it reality? When Vanagor appeared to transform into stone, growing in size before vibrating and crackling with his own energy and then finally exploding in a shower of sedintary and light Kol would have fallen onto his back foot. The Dark Jedi wasn't going to withdraw but he'd have raised a forearm to shield his eyes from the intensity of the brightness that the Jedi appeared to be made of.

Of course it was an illusion though. When Kol put thoughts into Vanagors mind it had been of potential futures. The Younglings he may have seen flashes of earlier could very well have died in such bloody fashion, their essence consumed by the Dark Jedi. For his part Kol had never seen anyone, Jedi, Sith or Otherwise so composed of force energy as to appear to be made of it. When Caltin Vanagor presented this image of himself Kol's vision was strained by the sheer brightness but his mind was not so affected.

If Vanagor was pure force energy given form than the Dark Jedi would already be dead because the Jedi Master would have been a God.

Of course all this lead to their engagement. Lightsaber to lightsaber. Attack and defense, slash and parry, culminating in Kol's attempt to take Vanagor's leg off at the knee followed by the push that sent the Jedi Master into one of the Temple Statues. Kol had to admit he was impressed by the resiliency of Vanagor, the Jedi Master was strong in the force the likes of which he did not completely understand.

The Dark Jedi was prepared to continue his assault when it happened, a wave of nausea and disorientation that he didn't understand accompanying the arrival of another creature nearby, Pom Stych Tivé . Kol's focus had been almost entirely on Vanagor so this new development, that may have also affected the Jedi Master though it was unbeknownst to him stifled the Dark Jedi and caused him to sneer...

"What is this?"

...the Apostle was still becoming the Hunter though and as he recovered from this sudden turn of events he'd outstretch his right arm and hurl one of the 'Dark Sacraments' at Vanagor. The Lightsaber would twirl horizontally, flying through the air at the Jedi Master while he was staggering to his feet to deliver a passing attack across his torso. The Dark Side guided the lightsaber which just as quickly flew back to the waiting hand of Kol as though it knew the summons of its master.

By then the nausea was starting to subside, Kol's control of the force reining in any sensation of sickness he'd been feeling as he started to march across the Great Hall towards Vanagor. Another Jedi intervened, a Padawan maybe a Knight and it wasn't unlike when Vanagor was throwing Acolytes and Marauders out the way; Kol dispatched him quickly and easily with a double slice of the 'Dark Sacraments' on his way to the Jedi Master.

When Kol came closer to Vanagor, the 'Dark Sacraments' whirling as he drew near he'd launch into a series of trained attacks that sought to deflect and redirect Vanagor's lightsaber wide or lock it with one of the Sacraments while the other slashed and snapped at the Jedi Masters midsection and the outside of his legs. The Dark Jedi was working furiously too, he wanted to bring Vanagor to his knees...​

 

[Ignatius Rausgeber]

Location: Beneath a Freeway
Survive
The Mongrel | Atticus Draco | Keilara Kala'myr | Atlas Drake

Ignatius watched with a sort of grim satisfaction as his means of attack worked. The Thundahvelins trailed from the sky, slamming into the ground, detonating with great rigor and force. Success. That's what this was. But there was no real happiness within his gaze. Only a solemn feeling of guilt when the Mongrel spoke once more. "Perhaps you should embrace this calling you have found." Even though he was not looking at the Mongrel, he could feel that evil glare of his mask upon him. Eating at him. Success sure. But surely Ignatius was worth more than this? He was a diplomat, a codebreaker, a provider and author of reports. This was not what the Force had decided for his path. This corrupted husk of a life. Meaningless. No. He had to do what was necessary, what must be done. He was going to survive. And surely, one of the other Mawites, pillocks they were would have done the same in his position. No?

As Ignatius grappled with this, his own grip on the speeder was taken from him. The LuchsHai veered from where Ignatius had divined it. The seatbelt he'd strapped into saved him from headbutting the viewport. Yet struggled to maintain control, hands like vices on both the wheel and shift. No, no! This wasn't him! What was this trickery?! And then speeder let go, hurtling across the highways lanes, and down below. They had air time. It was all so fast. Adrenaline pumped through Rausgeber as they hurtled to almost certain doom. Even the Mongrel's words were distant. Almost dreamy. In that instant, Ignatius felt his body almost transcend. His thoughts rested with his dear mother, until impact.

Secure seatbelt or not, Ignatius' head smashed into the steering wheel. Chin nose first. He felt it shatter against the leather braced durasteel, before his face followed. Bone chipped and fractured at impact. And for a time, Ignatius was stilled. Eyes closed. Breathing heavily. As for the crew, One Lek's carcass was strewn across several meters. His blue skin torn across the pavement, leaving a trail of entrails, flesh and blood. Bry, whether he'd survived or not, was surely dead, the top half of his body consumed in the glop grenade. Even now, his legs twitched spastically, like an insect in its death throes. No Teef's lower body was crushed in the tray against several ammunition crates. His dirty jumpsuit, turning slowly red. Hammy conversely, was no where to be found.

And yet it was Kerri, impecable as usual, who remained. And as the Mongrel stood to fire, he did so to. Attempting to cover the marauder, inspite of a hideous injury to his right arm, in which even bone pierced through his reinforced leather armour. "I gotcha guv!" Kerri snarled, wincing with the injury as he took cover, clunky blaster aimed at the source of oncoming fire.

"On your feet, 'Iggy'," Ignatius stirred slightly, as for the second time in as many months, his features were broken and ruined in the field of battle. He raised his hood, his life force flushing down his face. Mouth awash with that familiar, and sickly copper taste. "Some wretched sorcerer has pulled us from the sky... and I doubt he's gone far." Ignatius undid the safety belt, and slumped out of the vehicle. He tried to pick himself up, but fell. With Kerri moving, and picking up his slack.

"Easy there lad, easy there." Kerri growled, putting his good arm around Ignatius, and forcing the blaster into the wounded drivers. "Right. Eyes up Iggy," Ignatius struggled to see anything. His world was still blurry, moving. Dizzying. He gargled something incomprehensible, and hacked up bloody spittle. Once the Mongrel had proclaimed his decree, Kerri looked to him, "What's the play sir?" The weequay inquired, "See if we can hotwire us a speeder, and group up? Or do we uh, do we hide out for a bit, see if we can get a pick up from friendlies?"

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: Jedi Temple
Equipment: Jedi Robes Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Pom Stych Tivé (Enemy)

Jax was in some pain, not only was his shoulder that held his Prosthetic Arm was aching like crazy but a stray blaster bolt pierced his other shoulder and now starting to feel numb. Reaching into the Force, Jax focused on getting some feeling into his shot arm while the battle that was raging around him was nothing more than just background noise. The Jedi was only relying on instinct to subtly dodge the incoming blaster fire while he gripped his Lightsaber. Caltin Vanagor can hold his own against the Sith Lord: Rannan Kol the Jedi Master taught Jax all he knew about Lightsaber combat. Kol would be no match Caltin. Activating his Lightsaber, Jax turned on his heel and began to follow the disturbance in the Force. It didn't feel like a disturbance though more like a Force bond? It couldn't be, how can Jax and Pom be connected through the Force? The two of them were heated enemies and Pom killed Jax during the Stygan Campaign. The Jedi had nothing but contempt for her, but he struggled to hold it back. Hatred was poison for a Jedi. It seeps through their body and poisons their souls leading the Jedi to the Dark Side. Jax needed to focus on his duty as a Jedi, Pom was in the Temple, no in a realm that was close to the Temple.

"Come," she replied without malice but a mere curiosity in her tone. What was she seeking in the Jedi Temple? Whatever the answer, Pom was a threat. Jax left the grand hall cutting down any Sith Trooper in his way with his Lightsaber and leapt over the wreckage created by the fighting. The disturbance eventually lead Jax towards the Room of Thousand Fountains the place where he met Jairdain .

Frowning Jax closed his eyes focusing on nothing but the hum of his Lightsaber and the Force. He allowed himself to slip into the Force and allow him to guide him. The room was relatively peaceful compared to the chaos that was transpiring in the Temple yet Pom wasn't here. "Show yourself Pom!" Jax yelled holding out his Lightsaber. "I feel a great unease within you."

 

[Kai Bamarri]

Kai’s eyes widened as the phrik blade impaled him, then he jolted as the other blade sliced cleanly through his arm. His lightsaber clattered to the floor, his hand still clutching the hilt.

He had been doing so well. What had happened? Just a momentary lapse?...

The boy stumbled backwards, foul-smelling black ichor leaking from the stab wound and spurting from his stump of an arm. Both wounds would have been enough to kill a human. Yet even as Kai staggered away from the captain, his flesh rippled and writhed, sealing the hole in his middle. It further distorted as his arm began to regenerate, sacrificing some of his height to rebuild the lost limb.

But the process was slow, and Kai looked sickly from the effort. All his enjoyment of the fight had faded. He was no longer even pretending to play. He was desperate.

His lightsaber flew into a half-formed hand, stubs of fingers clasping around the silvery hilt. He lashed out at the captain with terrible violence, sinking his teeth into the Falleen’s mind for sustenance as he resumed the duel.

Aeris Lashiec Anja Doreva​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST #4
OBJECTIVE 2: BASTION ACCORDS BESIEGED
WOAD_RETRIBUTION

ALLIES (NIO): Rurik Fel Willan Tal Keilara Kala'myr Konrad Harrsk Atticus Draco
Lazarus Sloan Raus Garrat Waymar Geyer Nukth Kelga'an Zoraya Ives-Ayres

ALLIES (SJC/GA/AC/OTHER): Aerarii Tithe Leon Gallo Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
Geiseric Isla Draellix-Kobitana Black Mynock Ishida Ashina Silver Solus
Greer Caimbeulaich Alora Vizsla Shai Maji Cotan Sar'andor

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/TFD): Zinn Zinn Bink'sa Darth Interitus Cadere The Mongrel
Darth Solipsis Ignatius Rausgeber He Who Was Lost Khaostra Devoid Darth Insatious
Aemulor the Hutt Alars Keto Romund Sro

ERSKINE'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR-PISTOL
SECONDARY BLADE: BASKET-HILTED VIBROSWORD CLAYMORE

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S "ESCAPE" - PART 6

SENATE DISTRICT,
GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT
HOUR ONE....

MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!!​

Screams of pain, defiance and rage could be heard over the cacophony of blaster and disruptor fire, but this wouldn't deter the Senate building's defenders from continuing their fight against the Mawsworn onslaught, and to the point where not even the dark night Coruscant sky hanging over Galactic City could cast any lasting gloom on the Bastion Accord stalwarts fighting for supremacy within the venue itself. Everything made sense to the Imperials who were chanting, rifle-stock drumming on foe and random surface alike, providing a rock-like backbone for all the surviving elements from the other coalition factions, and in a way that would provide a newfound psychological edge over the very besiegers who tried to outnumber them in an attempt to gain a psychological edge of their own, causing a rippling effect in the battle's ebb and flow that hadn't escaped the Stormchaser's notice. Coming back to the realm of lucidity, Lord Erskine would find himself getting pats on the shoulder from a small squad of Ashlan Crusader riflemen, possibly for helping them alleviate some pressures with the blood-soaked claymore, or with the Fragarach-model pistol glaring with it's own red-glowing shimmers of heat at the front edges of the barrel.
Maybe, could've been either/or with this lot.... In fact, where's Tal?

Having jumped from breach to barricade, into cover and back out into breach from the shadows of the Senate building, making full use of the fact the lights and chandeliers had mostly been destroyed in the first wave of Mawsworn hostilities, Lord Erskine was using darkness as his helping hand as the Woad fury surprised, tackled or ran his enemies through from outside their periphery almost every time. This, though Lord-General Barran would be mostly unaware of his actions after the fact, would go on for almost fifteen minutes before the kindly slaps on the back and shoulders snapped him out of it, showing a slight clue (among the others that multiplied as the exertions told their story in his reconciliation with lucidity) in the form of visibly trembling hands, felt and seen to be more intense in his sword hand. The scarlet droplets of blood small and large alike, puddling around the area beneath where the blade's tip was hovering at the time was also another tell that Lord-General Barran had been going hell-for-leather in the blackout of both electric and psychiatric varieties, but in all the mayhem he could still make out the general form of Lord-Protector Tal in the distance, brutalising a Mawsworn raider with the stock of Galidraan's increasingly popular SA-65 battle rifle.

From the alleviated breach the Ashlan soldiers were holding, Lord Erskine would continue his approach as he watched Lord Willan mag-dumping into the mass of attackers at the breach on their side of the main conference hall, a formidable sight to behold; seeing the Lord-Protector fighting unlike any other officer in the Free-State, and electing instead to fight like a soldier with distinction, (much like Lady Enedina on Ziost, Serenno and Csilla) the Lord-General couldn't help but admire his old friend even more for it. Stepping back from the breach with blood-spatters all over his face, the old Northern-Galidraani would make a personal note of the reorganising Mawsworn down the hall, stuck in a loop of return-fire for return-fire as the old Woad finally closed the distance and made a joking fist-over-heart salute, sharing a little chuckle with each other for a while until Lord Willan broke the conversational silence between them. Peering back down the hall to steal a glance at their situation before speaking, Tal sniggered again with an idea in his mind, rounding his gaze on Barran as he exclaimed,'Lotta Maw! if you got any grenades Barran old sport, one ought to prime them right now.', over the din and cacophony of death and despair.

Patting himself down as if a Lord-General would ever be so stupid as to keep grenades on his person, the Stormchaser would indulge the subtle joke in the Lord-Protector's request before making a point to briefly look around their immediate vicinity for one that might have done the trick, but in being able to find none in the process, Erskine shrugged and curtly responded,'Well, it looks like we got none kicking about in this sector anyway. Any ideas? Looks to me like you're going to need something with a little more - ummm.... "Oomph!", so to speak.', as if they were merely discussing tactics on training-exercise over whiskey and cigars again. Their severe-drop in the perception of danger was clear to see in both the old men, but it only served to make them even happier about this mood, knowing it had them embodying the psychotically-brave Galidraani officers of old, urging Tal & Barran more than ever to make the eyepatch-wearing, prosthetic-sporting predecessors proud of the way they were conducting themselves under fire.

RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S "ESCAPE" - PART 7

THE NORTHERN MUNROES MOUNTAINS,
THE HIGHLAND REACHES,
TUATHA-HIGHLANDS BORDERS, GALIDRAAN III
TWO DAYS BEFORE MAWSWORN ATTACK....

'Never in my life have I ever seen a backdrop like this.... An' ti 'hink the Highlanders would've let me see it long afore ah went inti exile-'

'-Long efter it an'aw, so stop actin' like a glaikit Woad on the matter! You know this!', Lord Aron responded with jesting irritation, knowing full and well of what Lord Erskine's second son had been up to in his own home-front efforts. Though it did slightly annoy the Tuath Laird to some small degree, Gowrie couldn't help but smile that at least someone thought to utilise the highlanders in such a fashion against the Sith-loyalists on Galidraan III; and whatever their hearts were set on under the Wanderer's guidance, in all the mystery of who they'd fight for in the long run, would ultimately be more Imperially-minded than they would without young Barran at the helm. Stepping out to the edge of their north-facing ridgeline, Lord Aron would continue,'Besides, ye should be happy! Yer son's gained the loyalty o' the Highlanders, an' yer here noo! It's aw that matters in this moment.... Take it all in, Erskine! This is what our kinsmen have been enduring Hell to see again!', in a contrastingly endearing tone to the previous course, bantering reply.

'True.... Aw'right then, Aron. Lets talk o' the future.', Lord Erskine started, walking out across the same north-facing ridgeline so they wouldn't need to holler at each other from a windy distance. It had been noted that the Stormchaser had tried to avoid the subject during their climbing ascent, but seeing that his Woad-born friend was finally choosing to face the issue head-on, to face a future that looked bleak without the heart of nobility charging into the crucible of war any more, gave Lord Aron all the reasons he needed to believe his former rivalling-chieftain was still as forthcoming as ever. Barran would never wish to have any disillusionment occur on account of his brief unwillingness to discuss something important, and especially not in matters that marked the end of an era, so the Stormchaser faced his fears in the only way he knew how; with back straight and chin up, and eyes staring right into those of the Tuath standing before him, as all things Barran-related should be. Inhaling the fresh, cold northern air through his nostrils, Lord Erskine nodded his readiness to cover the difficult topic, concluding,'Let us mark this day as the beginning of our last years on the frontline as noblemen.', with a hint of bittersweet pride in his voice that cracked a little before the end.

'Naaaaaw, mate. We're better off marking that as the day our Imperator made you Lord-General of the New Imperial Army.... No offence intended, Erskine. But our presence only remained alive on the front-lines for as long as you continued ti lead fae the front, an' ye bloody well know it more than anybody who ever served wae ye. Make yer peace wae it, an' make yer peace wae it afore we aw end up takin' the ungraceful route out.'

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

the EPITOME of GREAT UNEASE​

Location: The icky jedi temple​

Enemy: jedi Jax Thio​

The Matriarch reached out into the abyss to locate Spasa. She sneered as she did. She felt deep revulsion her own twin soul's shameful existence is forcing her to feel into the Light which disgusts her so! "Us meeting again, Spasa, is for your own good," she threatened.

She sensed the jedi's willingness to approach. She also senses…'is that empathy?' Had Jax learned to be a jedi? She wondered, 'how many new ways I can think of to lead him to his demise!' All fun and games for the witch. And yet he is correct in his assumption, that Spasa's existence is truly quite troubling.

Pom stepped out from behind the veil to allow the physical eyes of Jax to settle upon her. He does have an aura about him which he didn't have the last time they had met. "I suppose I can only blame myself for your current state. I should have welcomed you to Dathomir eons ago." He used to be scared and angry; she could have turned him easily, freed him from his chains of obligation to merit always unto others, and never benefit himself. She wriggled her fingers before her, gesturing in his direction, and referenced, "I guarantee you that none of…this whole pitiful state would have developed in you." She sighed. How much more difficult is the work set before her.

"I see you have an arm again. I suppose you needed one for your little lite-lightning stick-thing." She couldn't bring herself to ask how he'd been all this time, because he would probably tell her that he was just fine, and that would never sit well with her…of course.

Half standing within the porthole of the Empyrean at her back, her cloak began to smolder, and she also felt the lucid stirrings of Spasa. She has a feeling, based off their previous encounters, that this Knight, -who would have no doubt advanced by now were he a Sith,- is dead set on getting in her way. The idea hit her that she can use him to unknowingly assist her in destroying Spasa once and for all.

The Nightsister allowed the porthole to open up, and life and death poured out together into the room of the temple. She quickly tore a crystal from her vest and cast it at the fountain waters. Suddenly a thick mist roiled forth between them.​

 

[Kyyrk]

F I G H T
​

Kyyrk moved through the Chaos with a certain....ease. A grace that was rarely seen in the fields of battle. At Taiia's call, he looked up, spotting the row of large windows far above them. He jumped up atop a vendor's stall, then to a balcony, which he paused at before pushing himself off the wall into the window. He pulled his limbs close to him, balling up to crash through the window as a large projectile. The Temple was already overrun in this area, and many of them turned to face Kyyrk as he landed. Red blades sprang to life as they rushed him.

Kyyrk pushed himself to his feet, his own white blade sprang to life, swinging into action to guide two Sith blades against each other. His foot shot out to strike another in the chest. Then Kyyrk stepped forward, his left arm extending downwards to bathe his immediate area in flame. "I don't take orders from you, Locke. We're here to help and there's nothing you can do about it. Where do you need us?"

Taiia Locke || Allyson Locke

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: Room of Thousand Fountains
Equipment: Jedi Robes, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Pom Stych Tivé (Enemy)

Jax immediately removed his outer robe the moment he met Pom's gaze, he can still feel the hate mixed with confusion within her. It seems that she was looking for something or perhaps someone? Jax wasn't entirely sure but he held his Lightsaber close to him. "Sorry Pom," Jax said his spirt unwavering. "Dathomir much my style, I prefer a planet more..... lively."

He spread his legs apart in anticipation for an attack, Pom wasn't the one who used a Lightsaber but rather a combination of the Dark Side and Magic. "Don't want my Podracing career to be cut short you know?" Jax said his soul still surrendering to the will of the Force. "I can feel the turmoil inyou Pom." Jax said. "You don't seek to destroy the Jedi but you're looking for something."

Jax's eyebrows creased into a frown. "Who are you seeking Pom?" Jax asked as calm as he can be however the Nightsister responded by opening a portal releasing a thick mist within the room. Jax's body became rigid, his mind drifted back to Ziost back to where Pom splashed him with a potion leaving him in the middle of the battlefield dying. Jax could feel the pain, the despair, the regret..... Yet the Jedi allowed that memory to pass, it was just it: A memory a painful memory something that Jax struggled to come turns to but things happen for a reason. Jax willed himself back to life, the Force as his ally. He learned from this encounter, Jax was not afraid.

The Jedi closed his eyes and held his Lightsaber close to him while the mist obscured the entire room. The sounds of the splashing waterfall was no longer heard. It was only Jax alone and surrounded by the Dark Side. "Strong focus on I what I want," he whispered waiting for Pom to make her next move.

 

[Travot Ravenna]

Location: Mykal-class Courier Galactic Wanderlust, nearing the Jedi Temple
Allies: Phalsi Drynchen | Zorah Cinsilo | Viera
Enemies: Darth Vinaze

What a mess. This is why I hate coming to the Core...The veteran knight pulled the yoke in hard to the left, just missing a Corellian Star Shuttle lifting off from the Temple Complex. Smoke billowed out of its port side - even a layman could tell that ship wasn't exactly spaceworthy - Travot could sense a mixture of fear and hope upon the craft. Some malevolent spirit must be at work here, empowering the Sith while simultaneously blinding us...no-one can say that the Dark Side doesn't have some power behind it...The Wanderlust's engines tilted upwards as he came to bring the craft down on the charred remains of what he thought might have been an airspeeder. He tried his best to keep up with the chaotic messages as they filtered haphazardly onto the airwaves.

''Jedi Council member and Master, Zorah Cinsilo reporting in, I will make my way to the South-eastern side of the Temple. Be safe out there and may the Force be with you, Knight Ravenna.''

"May the Force be with you as well Master, I will attempt to secure the landing zone for the arrival for further evacuation efforts-"

His comlink crackled with Phalsi Drynchen 's message:

"This is Phalsi Drynchen, Knight Sentinel of the Silver Jedi. Headed to evac position and tailing a group of younglings. I'll try sending them on the right path but they might be a bit scatter brained."​

"We'll be waiting for them...and you, of course."
​

Her tone troubled him, but it was almost to be expected given the circumstances. Still, there's at least two Silver Force users coming here then, that is good even if the times are not....Travot had started his journey into the Force with an independent master before joining the jedi of the Galactic Republic and then the Silver Jedi Order after that first government had collapsed. While he willingly worked among Jedi and force-users of any number of sects, he found a certain measure of comfort in working alongside those where external political problems wouldn't exist - there would be no countercommands from the Galactic Senate or whatever passed for the New Imperial Order's executive branch.

Travot smacked a button that let down the ship's ramp - almost immediately, he could see the diminutive forms of younglings and temple workers scurry towards his small vessel. There's not going to be enough space. A wan smile creased his face as he turned towards Lanyria.

"Fly as many people out of here as you by flying them up to our fleet in orbit. You can do that, right? It just be like the flying lessons back on Kasshyyyk."

His nautolan padawan briefly hesitated, "I don't feel ready for this, but it's what we must do, isn't it?"

Travot silently nodded in agreement. A small smile engendered itself across her face, and in that moment, he felt a little spark of hope. If his padawan could rise to the challenge in good spirits, how could he not?

"What will you do?"

Travot started down the ramp, "Help in whatever way I can, whether it's swinging a lightsaber or using the medpac..."

Barely had the man set a foot upon the ground when a pair of adolescents no more than a dozen years in age scampered up the ship's ramp. He stepped to the side of the walkway as more of them scurried to the oddly-shaped ship. Force guide me...now which one of them is Phalsi?

 

[Auteme]

Darth Solipsis | Romi Jade Jacen Nimdok Kirie Saan'an Gaelor Dhalinar Greystar (bye) Aayla Shan Metis Athena Elpis Coren Starchaser Rurik Fel
Feat. Lucien Dooku​

The suddenness of death, not even Solipsis's blade, was what brought down her creation. Her focus cracked for a moment as she saw the terribly burned Jedi hit the ground. The water broke apart, the dragon turning to mist as the strands dissolved.

"Auteme!" Lucien's voice cut through instantly. The way he said her name was almost a shock, and when she looked at him she found a rock, something to hold onto. Not now, he thought, and she nodded, pushing past the pain, the emotions meant to give her pause. She flew through the door behind the other Jedi, in close pursuit with the Sith Lord.

As they ran, her hands began to weave once more. Hardly as complex as what she'd summoned in Kaigann's office, the things she wove were nonetheless just as useful. The threads became a cool embrace for the Jedi as she crafted armor for her allies. It was light as a feather, malleable enough to move in, yet was like a sheet of thick ice, if ice were strong enough to block a glancing strike from a lightsaber. Were she not so rushed she might've made it even stronger, but she'd only completed a single layer by the time the group had reached the Grand Concourse.

As they reached one of the many entrances into the Senate Chamber, she gave a glance to Romi, searching. "He can't escape," she said. "We can't let him."

Honesty slipped through. The gravity of the situation, the fear he put in her; she'd seen this once before, and now she had no intention of leaving it up to chance.

With a wave of her hand the doors opened, and she entered, ready to face him.

 

[Adhira Chandra]

The Clouds Break
The Executive Landing Pad // The Executive Building // Coruscant
Chimera

The Chancellor watched eagerly as the shuttle, cleverly disguised as a freighter turned toward the wide gap at the base of the Executive Building. When the ship had breached the threshold of the landing bay without complication, the old woman felt a wave of relief wash over her. There would be thousands of ships fleeing Coruscant right now and there was no way the Maw would target such a seemingly low return target. The ship would probably slide completely under the radar. The tension that had turned Adhira's shoulders to stone relaxed and she turned away from the landing bay, an even larger group of Senate Commandos pressing around her as she made her way back inside the building.

But, something did not feel quite right. She had to look one last time. She had to see the ship leave her sight before she felt safe. She turned. Her dark eyes locked onto the thrusters of the ship as it prepared to rise into the atmosphere. He'll be fine, she thought with a smile.

Yet, as the elder Balmorran turned away again, resolved to return to the command center, she felt a burst of hot air hit the nape of her neck. There was a moment of horror, an inhale, a brace. Then, everything started ringing as Adhira was flung forward onto her face, several feet from where she had just been standing. Her ears stung sharply and it sounded like she was suddenly in a tunnel of wind. Her vision was blurred. She could feel something wet on her forehead. The last thing she saw of the shuttle as she turned her eyes back to the opening in the landing bay was a dark ball of smoke that rose upwards as debris shot in all directions. She felt someone tugging on her arm and jerked away defensively before realizing that a Senate Guard was attempting to pull her to her feet.

"We have Archangel. Repeat, Archangel was not on the ship!"

She felt hefted upward, but she pulled back toward the landing pad as a swarm of blue pushed her forward. She found herself unable to speak, or... perhaps she just could not hear herself. Archangel... she remembered that was her codename. She was safe.

"Alpine down."

Her heart sank. She knew who that was, she knew what that meant, but she refused to believe what she had heard. It was unclear, yes, that was it, she had not heard correctly. The ship was damaged but was being guided safely to the ground by a skillful crew of her most faithful protectors. Alpine would be fine. Her husband was fine.

"I need to speak to High Command... the Home Fleet must be called to Coruscant... and where is Aerarii Tithe !? His safety must be paramount, do you understand?" She was suddenly composed again, pulling her cloak up around her, ignoring the blood that was now trickling down the middle of her forehead. Two the robed Senate Guards who had escorted her husband to the landing bad stopped in their tracks and saluted before setting off down a side hall to carry out her orders. "Yes, my Lady," she could hear their voices in unison only vaguely through the ringing that remained in her ears. It was the only sign that she could still be heard despite the relative inability she had to hear her own voice.

"We will repel this attack and show these invaders why Coruscant remains impenetrable!" It took everything she had to raise her voice, racing ahead of her escort in the direction of the Chancellor's Office. The part of her that remained intrinsically tethered to the Force felt something dark pulling at her back in the direction of the landing pad, a feeling of overwhelming dread. She ignored it. She was certain it was nothing. Aarav was fine. She looked down at her comm and pushed a button to hail his comm. It ringed for a period of time and disconnected. She continued on. She pressed the button again. Aarav was fine. "Let me know when my husband arrives on Balmorra," she snapped at the guard.

She had no idea what was behind her.​

 

[Atticus Draco]

W H I T E C L O A K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Imperial Knight Armour | Lightsaber
ALLIES: NIO
FRIENDLIES: GA, SJC, AC
ENEMIES: NSO, MAW, Ignatius Rausgeber The Mongrel

Beneath the projected shield, he remained safe with much of his men. Missiles were bent out of the way, and some were unfortunate to be directly struck, victims of his selfish use of the Force. Though, it was practical. Few died to save the many, a concept that was taking a strong hold of the New Order's youngest minds. They may have been on to something. After all, he had seen the death tolls on Bastion and other torched worlds.

A hand raised lackadaisically in the direction of the support crew underneath his respective shield. Moments later, it shimmered and vanished as if there had never been a barrier in the first place. Stepping past the projected range, he didn't bother to cast even a look over his shoulder, though he did say; "Hold here." As he vanished into the wafting and smokey ruins of the Coruscanti block.

Craggy duracrete everywhere. Charred stone and and destroyed buildings. The rubble spilled out of the street, as he had envisioned, and he quickly vaulted from rock to rock to bypass it as he closed in on his targets.

"Over ther-!" A voice called out.

A split second later, the sound of two blaster bolts spat in quick succession.

He was already moving by the time what sounded like supporting fire joined the first two blaster whines.

As the Knight-Errant stepped from the blackness of the ashen cloud, on his periphery he saw the wounded stormtroopers trapped around a building's edge. Their comrades strewn about in torsos and limbs. Those he failed to save. Little more than a look was sent to acknowledge the fallen, for he only had eyes on the glopped speeder and the ragtag bunch that surrounded it.

From his belt, the saberstaff was drawn.

He did not stop moving across the cracked ground to the Mawite Warlord.

"What's the play sir?" The weequay inquired, "See if we can hotwire us a speeder, and group up? Or do we uh, do we hide out for a bit, see if we can get a pick up from friendlies?" ​

"You die-"

"White Cloak!" One of the wounded troopers called out.

"And join your ugly bastard friends in the Nether."

The top end of the saberstaff burst to life, argent blade of plasmatic fury birthed as he bounded across the ground rapidly. He had already chosen his target. While some of them looked to be half-starved bandits, only one had the auric energy of a leader. The cybernetic warrior was his, and it was clear with his deadset gaze as his arm surged forwards, moving on a course to impale The Mongrel through his sternum.