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Taiia walked through the freshly fallen snow into the center of the Ysanna camp, there she sat down near the fire with many of the tribe's people, several members of the Silver Jedi as well as her fellow confederate Maja Fiore. The redhead took a sip of the hot cafe in her hand as she looked around. The visit to Ossus had been a busy few days, from meeting with the Silvers and exploring some of the older ruins that dotted the surface of the planet to a brief tour of the temple itself. Not to diminish the other activities but the highlight so far was meeting the Ysanna.
The Ysanna were the indigenous people of the planet, and over the past few days she and a few others had gotten to know them. The Ysanna were cautious at first but warmed to the group over time, language was difficult at best. Taiia had picked up little bits here and there but fortunately there were those present who knew it far better so they did not need to rely on her ability.
Of special interest both to Taiia and Maja were the Ysanna shamans, or ‘storm shepherds’ as they referred to themselves. Those gifted with the Force, they seemed a bit more reluctant to share details about them but there was no need to rush things. For her the simple act of hearing about the planet's past from its own people was better than the entire library of Vureshakkairn Castle on Ryloth.
As one of the tribal leaders began to tell a story again for one of the younger members in attendance Taiia just smiled and listened until a gust of wind brought a chilling sense of dread. She rose slowly and turned facing toward the direction the temple was in. The smile faded from her face as she reached out letting the force extend her natural senses. A shadow was falling over Ossus, with a deep sigh of regret she called out to Maja. “Maja! Trouble is coming, lets head back to the temple.” her eyes were drawn upward to the skies above there was a truly dark and foreboding presence.
If there was a more obvious tip-off that the ginger was a Sith than his unaccustomed pronunciation of the word Jedi, Starlin didn’t know what it was. The Padawan shifted his stance, standing with his feet apart as a defensive measure. Some part of him wanted to attach mocking inflections and insulting connotations to the acolyte’s words, make it out to be something it wasn’t… but that would be dishonest. He had answered Starlin’s question with a question of his own.
“Yeah,” Starlin replied. In spite of the situation, the corners of his mouth curled in a small smile. “I am a Jedi.”
Starlin glanced toward where the web had wound around the corner. Something was definitely happening over there. Something bad. His gaze flicked back to the ginger.
“I take it you aren’t a Jedi. Since we’re in the middle of being invaded, and you’re not on our side, I can’t let you go any further.”
A Jedi should never strike first. Starlin had learned that the hard way, losing his right hand on Dantooine to Cotan Sar'andor
in a duel he’d initiated by striking at the first provocation. He’d learned a lot of tough lessons that day. Despite the circumstances, Ginger would have to make a move, either to attack him or try to force his way past, before Starlin did anything.
"Contacts nearing the Stygian Pride, Admiral.", Vo offered with a quick tap of her computer - transferring it to Tithon's own heads up display. He hummed to himself as he glanced it over - a squadron of unknown vessels in a direct engagement direction.
"As soon as they are in range, as the Nuemidon and Velum fire upon them. Deploy a squadron of fighters per ship to better guide them - and inform Arthos Vynea
to do the same.", he said with a wave of his fingers.
The officer nodded, and the effort was put in place. The targeting data transferred from the AI Typhojem matched with the X-04's highly advanced sensor information essentially fed the cloaked ship's location to each of the flak cannons. Built for exactly the purpose of countering swarms of fighters, the Frigates channeled the commands between them - leaving no question as to what they're doing upon close inspection. Guns would twist and aim themselves towards the incoming fighter-bombers, but by the time it would be obvious and visible it would no doubt be too late.
With dummy firing arcs guiding their firing, they began to litter the sky with laser, flak, and a wide variety of shelling to make flying towards the Stygian Pride a death sentence. In the same motion, their own ships would begin to deploy to head off any that would begin to get too close - but the effectiveness of the fighters would be diminished by comparison, unable to lock onto the hidden ships even if their targeting parameters were fed the information. It wouldn't matter in the end, however, as the low armament of the fighters that did make it through would essentially splash against the shielding unit of the Stygian Pride.
"Report on damage, Lieutenant?", Tithon said with a glance down to Vo once more.
"Shields were hit, but engines are still online. Stygian Pride reports no casualties, but the frigates have no reported back on possible confirmed kills.", she offered back, her hair bobbing as she spoke.
Tithon considered to himself the implications of such an attack. Stealth ships to test their defenses, hoping to have gotten deep into the fleet's formation before sending their payload. It was likely a surprise for them to have been caught - but he doubted they'd make the same mistake twice. With starfighters deployed, and a wide variety of picket defenses however, he didn't worry much about their carrier capacity should they have more. So long as the Belated, Carnation, and Stygian Pride stood - the 'Red Dragon' would persist.
The Sith were attacking in a manner that did not seem to make sense. They were doing it in a controlled manner and in waves. There was clearly more to what they were doing than merely trying to kill Jedi, that much had not and would never change among them. The matter at hand is figuring out what. Caltin was busy, almost too busy to sit back and ponder this as he was on his fourth Sith Legion chokepoint that he was taking out. The massive Jedi Master was not some superpowered Jedi, no, he was not someone who could take on the galaxy himself (he tried).
Did not… besides… it was your idea.
One thing he was though, was aware, aware of his surroundings and aware of what seemed to be a concerted plan to do… nothing. I mean… are those Rancors? Truly dangerous, fear-inspiring beasts, but what good would they do as anything more than cannon-fodder? Was that the point? Caltin was within reach of one of them and reached out through the Force giving it a little “push” into another. The desired effect. If there was not more to these animals than meets the eye, was that the nudge would draw the ire of the Rancor affected and cause infighting, in a manner of speaking. Would not stop any charge, but could draw the attention away for a moment and slow them down.
That did was not all though, there was a surge of Dark Side energy rolling over the grounds, almost like a “web” it washed over him as well and he stopped for a moment. The Acolyte attacking him seemed to grow confident from this, but it would last for but a moment as Caltin regained his composure and cut the would-be assassin down, a true shame as he looked to be little more than eighteen standard years old. Back to that web, the big guy could feel the effect it was having on others, two in particular who were suddenly falling under the spell. They were losing their sense of self, and while he could not focus on who they were, Caltin had an option he could resort to.
Clearing his mind as he moved to the next emplacement, the massive Jedi Master reached out with his mind in an attempt to touch the thoughts of every Jedi within reach. Battlemind was a skill he had learned from the Bendu and only used a handful of times, but it was something that he had never forgotten. It took a manner of focus as he was not sitting and focusing on the others, but moving and in pitched combat, but this was a benefit from the almost obsessive training he used to commit to as a Knight. He was strong at compartmentalization. The move would not counter the effects of this, no-doubt, Sith Alchemy as it was strong, as if created some orange-eyed maniac older than he was, but looking like some little weird girl who should be named after a day of the week.
Eye-roll…
Oh come on, that was funny. Anyway, the move would not counter, but it should give those Jedi afflicted the inner strength to battle this mental attack and fight on defending the light. His fight though was on the outside and figuring out why this enfilade was brutal but seemingly pointless.
Then came the charge.
It was a charge that seemed to be set up like they were working their way into a Jedi choke-point yet there wasn’t one. It didn’t make sense. One thing though? There was something he could do about this. One of the speeders nearby, he could grab it through the Force, levitating it high into the air, the massive Jedi Master made his presence known quite simply. He threw it at the Rancor in front of “Big Ugly” from their left side. Would it draw everyone’s attention? Probably not. Would it stop all of them? No. It would slow several of them down and throw whatever this was into disarray.
This was probably a fight he was not going to win, but this was not about him anymore. Caltin was living on borrowed time, had been for months. When the Sith’s attention was diverted his way, all they would see is him cracking knuckles into his jawline before charging himself. No sense waiting, no sense letting them come to him. No, this was his way, had been for a long time. Besides, the best defense was a good offense.
Running at them and taking a leap, Caltin’s target was not the Legion, not the Acolytes, not even “Big Ugly”...
Let me call him that!
Patience… no his target was the Rancor in front of him. His goal was Conservator’s permafrost blade into the skull of the beast, dealing a killing blow and ending its misery. His attacks would be assisted by Force assisted speed and his surprising knowledge of Ataru. No, he did not like using the fourth form, he felt like he was in a child’s “bounce house” when using it, but “The way of the Hawk-Bat” served its purpose and would continue to do so until either backup arrived from the castle…
Come on, guys! Girls!
… or the beast fell. If his surprise attack went fast enough, his next move would be something that always seemed to draw a smile on the big guy’s face. Centering the Force into his right fist Caltin slammed it into the ground, the resulting Force wave should be enough to at least make those in front of him (the charge) at least some of them, stumble momentarily. What was next was simple. He was tired. Tired of the way the galaxy looked at the Jedi. He was tired of the way the Jedi were splintered. He was tired of the way many “Jedi” were looking at themselves. He was tired of being told that he needed to change with the times. He did not need to change with anything, or for anyone. This is who he was, and who he would always be. It was something that an old instructor of his reminded him of:
**It doesn’t matter what the press says, it doesn’t matter what politicians or mobs say.
It doesn’t matter if the whole damned galaxy decides that something is right.
The Jedi were founded on one principle above all else:
The requirement that we stand up for what we believe no matter the odds or the consequences.
When the mob, the press, and even the whole karking galaxy tell you to move,
your job is to plant yourself like a tree next to the river that is our code and say:
“No, YOU move.”
Now say it.
Don’t mess with me.
You’re burning daylight.
Yessss
Leave. This. Planet. Alone.
Really? REALLY?!
I liked that better.
Yes, I am fully aware of where that quote is from, but it is an old callback to when he was a Padawan a long time ago! Don’t judge me!
Caedyn had almost reached the entrance to the Temple, wanting to gain a better understanding of the invasion force that had landed outside when the quick shuffling of movement from behind drew the Jedi Knight to turn back, his lightsaber igniting in his left hand, extending only the one blade at this point as the blue blade of an Echani swept in low towards him, Caedyn dashing backwards to evade his stomach from being sliced open.
The colour of their blade betrayed their true nature, although that alone didn't make a Jedi, the blue glow of their lightsaber did however help them to blend in with the rest of the Jedi personnel within the Temple and now having drawn upon Caedyn, the Jedi Knight needed to be sure that they wouldn't take advantage to ambush his fellow members of the Order.
"I strongly advise you forfeit that lightsaber, surrender yourself to me and let this day not be your last" Caedyn suggested to his aggressor, the Jedi Knight switching his own Lightsaber over into his right hand and giving a roll of his wrist, a flourish of the blade as if to gauge the weight and momentum of the weapon in preparation for what he expected to be a fight.
The Echani was a curious case, not looking to be showing signs of Darkside Corruption and yet taking up arms against the Jedi alongside the invading Sith. Caedyn didn't wish to be responsible for any loss of life, and yet his duty was to protect the young and inexperienced, those who could not fight but would also be trained and overtime come to provide protection to the Galaxy in the many years to come. The life of a single Jedi could influence and aid countless others in the pursuit of the Jedi Path, a life lived in service to others.
"I offer you this one chance, cease this pointless violence and save yourself".
The problem with military life, with every kind of life, really is that every day could be your last. If you live in fear of it you will live a life of looking over your shoulder, if you live life challenging it, you will live a short life. If you live a life ignoring it, you will pass on in a manner that was entirely, and rather easily more often than not preventable. The members of Omega Squad knew that this was one of those times to not be "mindful" of the fact, but to know full well that everything that they do will be for the greater good, then their lives will be well-lived. Yes, some of them had families, but that was the life that was being led, and in the case of a few of them, their families wanted little to nothing to do with them anyway.
Maybe that is why the team, as a whole took to these assignments with reckless abandon the way that they did. It's not that any of them had a deathwish, then again maybe that is exactly what it was, either way, they all had something to fight for, and something to escape from. There was little more than the training that made anything about them "special" in this case, but it did not matter to any as one thing that they learned from the Jedi is that the Sith are arrogant wamprats who think that regular humans are just pitiful wastes of time.
This was so easy to manipulate if you knew how to.
There were two junctions that they were ready to pass. The problem is, there was a set of auto-turrets out along one of them and two very large combat droids along the other. This was something that was problematic until Gabriel realized something, he could blow some of his charges he had already set.
Boom Baby.
The explosions blew a couple of airlocks as well as the housings for escape pods. Blast doors sealed off the areas, but this caught the attention of the sentry droids and they approached. Of course, this is what the Omegas wanted. As soon as the monstrous war machines turned the corner, they were met with an intercepting signal that was killing their internal network. It was shutting their primary commands down and inserting new ones, this was not going to be like the last Sith warship that they boarded though, there was no way to get away with controlling the droids for very long. They could though, change the IFFs and make anyone on the ship not carrying a Silver comm-link frequency identify as a target. Once the internal network rebooted, who knows, Bartleby's spike could be sent to any other droids and bring the same result?
... and send you on your way.
Now they were not only cannon fodder, they were the distraction to the Omega's own distraction as well.
Let's move... we have a launch bay to wreck.
As long as I can finish this kill line on my rifle.
Slicing her way through the door—either electronically or literally—wasn’t her best option. Too risky while under attack, you’d never know who might catch a wink of the plasma blade burning through durasteel, or be plugged into the same network.
Yet again, Yula found herself crawling through the ventilation shaft. Emily was ahead of her, the little spider droid skittering a path through the ducts. “Wait!” Yula hissed, grabbing Emily by the leg and pulling her back suddenly. Just ahead of them, a few rays of dim light filtered through the grate. “Someone’s there.”
Squeezing her way past the indignant droid, Yula peered over the edge of the grill. Her dark brows scrunched together tightly, pupils restricting with the sudden onset of light. Then she saw who it was.
She kicked through the grate, dropping from the ceiling at the same time a sharp whistle nearly pierced her eardrums. Hanging by the pads of her fingers, she swung her body to the side and narrowly dodged the flare. The projectile spiraled down the hall, screaming its big fat presence to this half of the communication hub before fizzling out.
With the beacon unfortunately lit, there was little time to act. “Kyra!” She snapped, eschewing introductions and grabbing her sister’s wrist. She dragged the younger Perl down the hall and around the corner, stopping only to push her against the cold durasteel wall. Yula’s hand went to Kyra’s chin, gripping it tightly while she turned her sister’s face this way and that—noting the lidded glaze of her eyes.
A shocked pause. “Feth, you’re high!” She snapped in disbelief. Nida’s disappearance had been especially hard on Kyra, and Yula felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t intervened sooner. It had never crossed her mind that Kyra—the baby of the family—would turn to this sort of vice to dull her pain.
Yula huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face in the process. They’d get to that later. Now…
“Kyra—Kyra, listen to me. We’re under attack. Someone took out the power.” They were quite literally in the dark, not knowing who their assailants were or how many had swarmed the facility. “I don’t know who it is, but I doubt that the bulk of their forces are here.” Ossus had more valuable targets, and hindering communication was likely only a piece of the plan. “Listen. Listen.” She motioned Emily forward, and the droid projected a map of the facility. “There’s a backup generator somewhere around here, underground.” She pointed a finger at the far end of the holo projection. “I don’t know if they’ve gotten to it yet, but judging that the explosions came from here,” Her hand shifted, this time to another end of the map. “There’s a decent chance it’s untouched. For now. We don’t know who they are or what they’re packing, so our better bet is to get to the backup. It won’t restore the entire hub, but it should be enough to get most critical systems running again if the infrastructure damage isn’t too bad.”
She paused, suddenly wondering if all that sank in. “You up to it? Lights go out, we fix them, yeah?” Another pause. “Seriously, if you’re not, you need to tell me now.”
The hairs at the back of her neck prickled in warning. Something was coming, moving in their direction.
"No." Her back was pressed against the opposite side of the doorway, her gaze briefly meeting his behind their visors before the ongoing firefight drew their attention elsewhere. Everything that could have gone wrong had, the only solace being they had completed their objective before getting pinned down by a roving squad of soldiers. That, at least, had gone smoothly. The rest of it was up for debate.
Her armor was far from as flashy or well-equipped as his own - this was supposed to be simple, she didn't see a need for all the bells and whistles - but it still had the necessities that made her equally deadly. It might not have been a grenade, but it burned just as hot. "Cover me."
Without waiting for a confirmation she stepped out from behind cover and raised her right arm, fire pouring from the projector on her right wrist and engulfing the enemy in flames. Their lack of significant armor made them especially incendiary, and the screams were more than telling. Rather than let them burn she put them down with a handful of well-placed shots from her blaster rifle, something that could be called a mercy. Really she just didn't want their cries to alert their comrades.
Turning to face Soloman, she indicated the hallway that was now devoid of foes, at least for the time being. "We're clear. Come on."
In the distance, there was a bright light burning. Blaster fire? No, it didn't have the right look. Whoever it was wasn't trying to kill them. Not yet, anyway. Another look to her companion. "Friends of yours?" Anything was possible at this point.
A planet rich in history and now, once more, in the hands of friends. Being friends, the Silver Jedi had invited the Confederacy to their celebrations. So Maja and her fellow Kinght Obsidian, Taiia Locke
, were sent in good faith, to share in the commemoration of the historical planet.
The two Obsidian members have been busy indeed. Being envoys encompassed a great deal - from having good talks in the temple with the rest of the Silver Jedi to exploring some Jedi ruins with the natives. It had been fruitful indeed.
Maja was sitting huddled in some extra furs next to a fire as the snow flurried lightly to the ground. She and Taiia were much intrigued by the Storm Shepherds of the Ysanna tribes. They have been quite patient with their relations with the natives and Maja merely enjoyed some cafe as she listened to the laughter in the camp.
Until a chill ran down her spine.
She did not need Taiia's warning. Knowing full well what had arrived, the Lotus Knight was on her feet and furs discarded in an instant, her eyes on the Dark ships that were converging on the city. "Agreed." she told Taiia, her hands resting on the hilts clipped to her belt. Turning to the Chief of the tribe, Maja then spoke in fluent Ysannan. "You need to go into hiding. The Darkness will not spare you. Hide where none can find you." came her calm request. She then turned back to her fellow Confederate and nodded before taking off into the direction of the temple....
Communication Blackout
Halls Yula Perl
| Open for opposition
A jitter ran up Kyra's spine as she crept through the dark hall. The spices left her senses dull, but she didn't need em to know something was off.
So the dreams had been right after all... Force be damned.
She told herself she wouldn't come, but clearly she had the self-control of a bowless bowl of jello- all jiggling everywhere whether or not it wanted to. ... Alright, weird comparison, but it was what she felt like as she stumbled through the dark halls. She wasn't too far gone that she couldn't summon a ball of light to assist her, she just didn't think it was wise. Whoever did this to the station probably had planned; turning herself into a beacon while they lurked about was a dumb idea even to her.
That was, if people were the cause at all. A pang of self-doubt crept forward-- shots went off around the corner.
Kyra cursed and threw herself backwards. She crab crawled back the way she came, not wasting time to flip over and find her feet as she found her way around the corner.
Oh, she was so right! She forced herself to concentrate and reach for the distant hum of the force. A dim ball of light appeared at her side, illuminating her cybernetic arm as she pulled up the controls. She frowned, her good hand bumbling about for the life form scanner. Which was... where again? Metal parted at her wrist. A sharp whistle filled the air.
Slicing her way through the door—either electronically or literally—wasn’t her best option. Too risky while under attack, you’d never know who might catch a wink of the plasma blade burning through durasteel, or be plugged into the same network.
Yet again, Yula found herself crawling through the ventilation shaft. Emily was ahead of her, the little spider droid skittering a path through the ducts. “Wait!” Yula hissed, grabbing Emily by the leg and pulling her back suddenly. Just ahead of them, a few rays of dim light filtered through the grate. “Someone’s there.”
Squeezing her way past the indignant droid, Yula peered over the edge of the grill. Her dark brows scrunched together tightly, pupils restricting with the sudden onset of light. Then she saw who it was.
She kicked through the grate, dropping from the ceiling at the same time a sharp whistle nearly pierced her eardrums. Hanging by the pads of her fingers, she swung her body to the side and narrowly dodged the flare. The projectile spiraled down the hall, screaming its big fat presence to this half of the communication hub before fizzling out.
With the beacon unfortunately lit, there was little time to act. “Kyra!” She snapped, eschewing introductions and grabbing her sister’s wrist. She dragged the younger Perl down the hall and around the corner, stopping only to push her against the cold durasteel wall. Yula’s hand went to Kyra’s chin, gripping it tightly while she turned her sister’s face this way and that—noting the lidded glaze of her eyes.
A shocked pause. “Feth, you’re high!” She snapped in disbelief. Nida’s disappearance had been especially hard on Kyra, and Yula felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t intervened sooner. It had never crossed her mind that Kyra—the baby of the family—would turn to this sort of vice to dull her pain.
Yula huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face in the process. They’d get to that later. Now…
“Kyra—Kyra, listen to me. We’re under attack. Someone took out the power.” They were quite literally in the dark, not knowing who their assailants were or how many had swarmed the facility. “I don’t know who it is, but I doubt that the bulk of their forces are here.” Ossus had more valuable targets, and hindering communication was likely only a piece of the plan. “Listen. Listen.” She motioned Emily forward, and the droid projected a map of the facility. “There’s a backup generator somewhere around here, underground.” She pointed a finger at the far end of the holo projection. “I don’t know if they’ve gotten to it yet, but judging that the explosions came from here,” Her hand shifted, this time to another end of the map. “There’s a decent chance it’s untouched. For now. We don’t know who they are or what they’re packing, so our better bet is to get to the backup. It won’t restore the entire hub, but it should be enough to get most critical systems running again if the infrastructure damage isn’t too bad.”
She paused, suddenly wondering if all that sank in. “You up to it? Lights go out, we fix them, yeah?” Another pause. “Seriously, if you’re not, you need to tell me now.”
The hairs at the back of her neck prickled in warning. Something was coming, moving in their direction.
Kyra abruptly found herself yanked down a hall, her ball of light dissipating as her attention was snatched.
“Kyra!”
"Yula?" She replied dumbly back, her resistance melting away as the elder Perl started checking out the state of her makeup.
"Feth, you're high."
Or was that her eyes.
She jerked her chin back, wordless noises of sibling grumbles falling from her as she tried to regain her orientation. "And you smell like noodles." She huffed as the dreaded spider driod named Emily came forward with a map. They were still mortal enemies, though perhaps now was a bad time to try and crush her again. "Just what is going on he-"
Yula's explanation left her wide-eyed, dread creeping through her stomach.
"An invasion?" she echoed, not responding to Yula's final, probing question. Did the sith never let it rest? Stress crept through her shoulders, her scalp tingling.
Was she up to it?
No. Absolutely not. She wanted to skip right out on out. Her palms itched for the feel of a drink. Her skin craved the deafening vibrations of a club. Anything to drown out the chilling silence of these halls. Goosebumps rose over her skin.
“Seriously, if you’re not, you need to tell me now.”
And what? Leave her sister to it all? Her jaw set, her legs growing a little steadier on the ground.
"Don't be a doofus, I came didn't I?"
She pushed herself to her feet, mentally cursing the trippy dreams that had predicted this event. Either the spices were that good, or she was growing stronger.
She grimaced into the darkness, feeling along the wall with a sweaty palm.
The group of younglings and their caretakers found their way to the meditation chambers, the agreed-upon rendezvous point for those too young or too feeble to defend their temple. The otherwise peaceful place was filled with young children and the few Jedi tasked with their protection, many of whom were elderly and past their prime as fighters. Librarians and archivists.
Needless to say, Thirdas stuck out like a sore thumb.
Only when the doors to the chambers were shut and sealed did the Togrutan girl find courage to let go of her saviour and find her footing, but as she did an explosion went off far in the distance. Lee-Loo grabbed hold of his arm, only now realising it was made entirely of metal. Didn't seem to bother her none.
"Younglings! Younglings!" A stern-looking older woman addressed the room full of children. "Please, try and remain calm. Panicking doesn't help you or anyone, instead remember your training. Focus on controlling your emotions, and find courage for those who are out there fighting for our safety at this very moment. Be strong for them."
Not quite sure what to do with himself, as he was torn between staying to care for the little ones or go out and fight the enemy, Thirdas found himself led by Lee-Loo to the rest of her class of younglings, where they had taken to gather in a circle and recite the mantra of the Jedi. Taking a seat among them, the Togrutan parked herself in his lap, not having spoken a single word until now.
"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me."
Thirdas looked around at each of the faces chanting along, eyes closed and holding hands with their classmates. They were brave; braver than most their age. Their chanting made even him feel more at peace. Gently putting his arms around the girl in his lap, Thirdas chimed in.
"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me..."
"Don't have any friends on Ossus.", he said flatly, synthesized by the vocoder
Soloman wasn't actually sure of that statement, but he somehow doubted it. Doubled down by the flaming corpses in front of him, he stepped over them without a second glance as he looked around - hoping that if he did have any friends on this planet, they weren't nearby. He'd hate to have to put one down by surprise, but it was often the way things went when all your friends were killers for hire.
Soloman's boots were muddled by a slight dampening material on the soles - but it wasn't enough to truly mask his imposing figure or the sound of his approach. At least when he wasn't trying - so as they rounded the corner and saw the two Zeltron's moving away from them, he shot a round off between their heads hoping to force them to a halt.
"Freeze, aruetii.", he said with the gruffness of his people's tongue.
"Where's girlies like you running off to at this fine hour?", he mused as he moved to close the distance.
As he followed them, approached them, he offered through his internal comms where they couldn't hear him to Jorri -
"We're going to need hostages if things turn ugly. Get at least one of them, see if they know the easiest route out, then move."
"Such anger.", the Worm replied from behind Vulcanus - in a position he was most certainly not a moment before.
"Darth Vulcanus.", he offered him as a word of respect, though there was no bow to follow.
"Lord of Flames.", a second voice followed amidst the darkness.
Within the meditation sphere, Vulcanus would feel something entirely different than normal - the energies of the Worm magnified. No longer did he feel as though he were simply in the presence of another god, but Krag would feel as though he was within the Worm, only a small facet of a thousand faces, a thousand voices, and a thousand identities. The Worm remained still as more eyes opened along the walls, leaving everything of where they thought they were to imagination.
"Do not take your imprisonment as a sign of cowardness on my behalf.", the regal voice offered.
"On the contrary, it is a test. If you wish to challenge me, then you must prepare your body - for there will be a reckoning if you do not. For this, I have come to you with a gift - that which will embolden you, strengthen you... Raise you to be a level of worship among the Sith.", the Worm offered as a long and janky hand moved from the confines of the robe.
In it, a small leather pouch - drawn tight at the top by some strands of ancient hair wrapped into a makeshift string.
"These are the ashes of Tulak Hord. Powerful, a one man army, capable of drawing upon death itself to heal him in the midst of battle - like sustanence. I offer these to you as a gift - consume them, and feel the depths that I have to offer. Destroy the Jedi and ascend, Darth Vulcanus. Become the Saint of Flames, then challenge me for the position of Sith'ari."
"Break them where they stand. Become the God of Destruction."
Yula felt a brief measure of relief when Kyra seemed to absorb the explanation. Maybe she wasn’t completely lost in the sauce after all. She studied her sister with scrutinizing eyes while she appeared to mull it over. The clench of her jaw told Yula everything, and the corner of her mouth peeled into a tense smile.
“Enough flairs for one day. Let’s get moving.”
The pair of Zeltrons stumbled into a jog down the hall, but their pursuers shored up the distance quickly.
A shot rang out overhead, pinging against the wall and Yula ducked on instinct, squeezing Kyra's hand. A glance to the side and the fact that her sister hadn't dropped to dead weight kept her heart from thudding out of her chest.
“Freeze, aruetii.”
“Mandalorians??” She hissed to Kyra with an incredulous tone. The Mandos and Jedi had a tenuous relationship at best, but lately, they’d been keeping to themselves. Still, war was their religion. She hadn’t expected this.
“Bathroom emergency!” Yula called back, sending them into a zigzag pattern as they rounded another corner. “My sister’s got the runs real bad!”Which wasn’t far from the truth, considering what spice did to your gastrointestinal track.
About forty-five standard minutes had passed since “The Liberation” had launched from the Togorian shipyards. The Pouil brothers were successful in their search for available ships to come with them. Marten Series Carrier Corvettes “Green 9-15” as well as escorts, the Liberte’ class corvettes ”Gundark 3” and ”Gundark 4”. By chance, two Jambiya-Class Interdictors were launching from their refits as well, the ”Dragnet” and the ”Magneto”.
All available fighters were launched and in hyperspace. The trip was going quickly as ship crews were in “General Quarters” and preparing themselves for the worst. Communications departments were all working together and trying to get Ossus, or Task Force Torrent on comms, Slicers on each ship were using every trick that they knew to help make this a success. All non-essential power was being routed and dedicated to engines and long-range sensors. The problem with the long-range sensors was the same as communications, there were no relays working, only they did not know this. It would be something that could be figured out, but there were more pressing matters.
Both Rojuh and Scott Pouil were in fighters along with all of the squadron commanders, all were going over their flight and attack patterns. No one was truly prepared for what they were going to encounter, because there was literally nothing about this that they could prepare for. So the pilots were preparing for the worst. The one thing that they had was each other, and they were trained that this would be enough. No sense being afraid of what they could not control, right? So why dwell on it any more than they have.
Captain Angellus’ office was locked. Commander Halpern was on the bridge keeping all departments running like clockwork while Commander Tantor was getting the Marines ready, should they need or plan to transfer over to an enemy ship, or land on the planet. Chief Gribbs had the launch decks ready for any incoming ships, as well as fuel and weapons payloads secure.
Back inside the Captain’s office, he was on closed beam comms with the other ships as they were going over plans, and backup plans and potential issues. He was not the senior officer among the group as the Captain of the ”Togorian Temperance” technically was, but Liram was in command of a ship with tactical superiority, on top of that, Captain Beltran was more than willing to let Liram take the lead.
The plan was that the sector that the battlegroup entered was to utilize previous knowledge of the area and travel through the asteroid field. There was little danger for any of them, but the effect should scramble any long range sensors, rendering them effectively invisible. There will then be a matter of using their own LRS and potentially locate what they were dealing with.
“All hands, this is the bridge, prepare for drop out of hyperspace. General Quarters is still in effect, Captain to the bridge.”
Dis never understood why organics, or mortals, do this. They saw that the woman had heard what they had “said” to her, for had stopped and even nodded afterwards. In fact, it was as if she was looking for who had spoken to her, but since she had not seen the Shadowcat, she did not comply with the request. Instead, she began to look for something much more, then cut an entrance with the lightsaber. Why?
They did not understand the non-existent answer, in principle the Jedi are peaceful, and yet they behave like soldiers, generals. Dis reading stories about this, in the book, which was also about the Clone Wars, it was one of the negatives against them that they started behaving like soldiers instead of guardians of peace. And, then the Shadowcat didn’t even mention that the woman didn’t answer them. Maybe they saw it badly on the aura and yet she wouldn’t be a Force User? Yet the aura was very strong and beautifully white.
~ Why don't you answer? Can't you communicate telepathically? ~ asked curiously. ~ If so, you can answer in words, I will hear them. ~
They “said” this rather kindly and enthusiastically, conveying the same feelings to the woman. The Shadowcat didn't know the nature and behaviour of mortals so well yet, so they didn't know that Sakadi was trying to get Dis to show themselves. They continued to watch and examine the woman from a distance of quite a few metres.
~ Don't you believe me when I said they were going to hurt you? What can I do to make you believe me? ~ both their “voice” and the emotions conveyed were a little sad.
They wondered if the woman would respond to them now, or if, despite the warning and requests, she would continue on the path she had come here for. At least Dis thought that these were the woman's goals, which of course could have been a wrong assumption.
Before even the first word was spoken Vulcanus knew The Worm's presence. That inky black that clung to the walls, the air and even the soul - but this time was not as the last meeting had been on Zygerria. The darkness weighed much heavier, an invisible hand that threatened to force the beast to its knees. Vulcanus defied this force. Pushed against the weight and turned back through the darkness and towards The Worm as it spoke its first words.
"Such anger" the coward seemed to taunt before feining some form of respect by offering the use of his Darth title. It sickened the beast and he yearned to vaporize the cloaked lesser where it stood. But every movement was a labor and every passing second was a new pair of eyes leering at him from the darkness of the chambers.
As The Worm continued to speak its voice grew to encompass the entire chambers - its words eminating from every corner and out from every shadow. The voice lied about its own cowardice and spoke of challenges, ashes and rituals. Games. Spells. Tiresome prattle that he believed himself to have heard from countless Sith before this one.
"Your games do not interest me, lesser!" Vulcanus bellowed as the pouch was produced in front of him, the beasts growing anger manifesting in a sudden roar of fire as wires and banners caught aflame around them.
"You are just as Zambrano and every weakling before him!" The beast took a shaky, hard fought stwp toward The Worm - harnessing his anger to fight through the stasis that willed him so still.
"Games. Talk. Cowardice." Another step and then a tumble. Vulcanus crashed to a knee, his arms catching his body before he fell flat. His anger rose.
"I will burn your pathetic empire!" with a swipe of his claws Vulcanus summoned a whip of flames that struck out at The Worm. The pouch in the apparitions hand caught fire and burst - the soot colored contents exploding into the air. The fire got no further, however, as they were extinguished against the black hole that was The Worm's body.
Again Vulcanus forced himself to stand, his sulfuric eyes glaring through the veil of falling ash. He breathed deep, the Worm's "gift" stinging his throat and eyes just like the ashes of a thousand beings conquered by the Graug.
"I will-
The words caught in the beast's chest. Nausea seized his body and The Worm blurred in his vision. "I...YOU..." words tumbled through his head and out of his mouth with no semblance of order or sense.
"Izg gilrolnar khu" the beast mumbled as his native tongue replaced any attempt at basic and the worms vissage slowly morphed and changed - its set of heads becoming another set and another again. A thousand voices whispered in Vulcanus' skull, innumerable and indecipherable. He vomited, covering the floor in a pool of bubbling green ooze.
He tried to speak, the words were lost. Then, all at once, the bile covered ground sped toward him and darkness engulfed his vision....
...but a single voice called out to him in the darkness. One he did not know but yet was so familiar.
Taking hostages wasn't a bad plan, in theory. Guaranteed them a way out and kept combat to a minimum. But even someone like her was wary of going toe-to-toe with a Jedi with the express intent of not killing them. She'd rather have taken their chances finding a way out on their own, but in the end their odds of ending up facing another Jedi were about the same. Better to have collateral.
"Sure, why not. We haven't tempted fate enough yet," Jorii shot back over that same private line. Whether it was another jab was hard to tell, but it was obvious she wasn't entirely on board with the strategy, nor expressly against. What was done was done, and it was a matter of rolling with the punches now.
Begrudgingly she switched her rifle to stun, watching as their quarry took off around the next corner. At least they were smart. She took off after them, stopping near the beginning of the next hallway and sighting through the scope of her rifle, lining up her next shot as best she could with the zigzag they were running in. She let off two shots in quick succession, pressing forward regardless of their success. Either they would get backed into a corner, or be inadvertently led to the exit. There were worse odds out there.
"I hope you don't expect me not to kill them if they stand their ground." She left it at that. It wasn't a matter of fear, but common sense. Her clan had raised her to treat Force-users with absolute prejudice, and some things just didn't change.
As the flames licked at the Worm's body, the ashes were scattered - and even as Vulcanus breathed in heavy hot anger, the Worm used the Force to draw the ashes directly into his nose. Nearly all of them were shot through the Seventh Day Emperor's nostrils - directly into his lungs, and from there, to his blood. Its effects were immediate, breaking what strength the Lord of Cinders had left - and pulling him to the ground to heave.
"Experience the harshest reality, Darth Vulcanus.", the Worm offered as its hand disappeared deep beneath the cloak once more.
"Become the Sith you were always meant to be.", his words chimed deeply - fading as Vulcanus's fell entirely into the drug filled trance.
With that, the door to the room that was sealed with his own strength burnt and spread wide - opening into the hanger where the pillar was left. The Worm strode from the meditation chambers depths, Vulcanus still struggling on all fours which in itself was an impressive feat. Normally, the ritual would have already nearly killed them, yet the once Emperor held onto consciousness tightly, if it could even be called that.
"Quintus Varro - See to it that you are not killed. The Pillar nears completion, and while the Sepulchral will be sacrificed to see it completed - you must survive. Come - test your strength against the Jedi, but do so far from the carnage about to erupt.", and with that, the hand would be offered once more.
Waiting for Quintus to grab hold, to save himself from the coming darkness.
He just kept moving, slowing his pace slightly to allow Thalia to keep up. He allowed himself to drift slightly from his trance and back into waking thought. Flashing a grin at the Padawan beside him under his hood. The garment curiously never leaving his head, obscuring the upper part of his face. "Takes me back." He commented, making casual conversation with the younger girl as if this was a simple training exercise and not a desperate strike against invaders. "First time I was on a Sith ship was with a strike team like this. Ended up fighting Darth freaking Voyance alongside Romi Jade." He shook his head. "Crazy time." He mused, letting some of the past catch up with him as he continued to run.
"No matter what happens. Trust in me, trust in the Force. And most importantly. Trust yourself." He said, his smile never leaving his face. But there was an urging note in his voice. Compelling her to listen to him. To heed his words and advice. "When we encounter Sith. They will do anything they can to unbalance you and make you doubt yourself. Do not listen to them. They are ultimately cowards and bullies. Unable to fight an opponent that has not been first crippled. Remain calm, do not act in anger, that is what they want." Dun Moch might be one of the biggest threats to Thalia. She still had that temper of hers. And while her anger did mostly stem from noble roots. It was still a cause for concern.
But, there was nothing to be done about it for now. Simply press on and trust that one of his favourite students would be able to pass this upcoming test. He had every faith that she would perform splendidly. "Be ready. Stick close. Allow me to take the lead. Back me up." His instructions for the conflict he could sense on the horizon were curt and to the point.
He could feel it, just on the edges of his senses. Not a direct presence. But simply a feeling of danger behind the upcoming doors Reaching out with a hand. He could feel the various mechanisms and locks beginning to shift and whirr under his mental compulsion. Asking it to open as it allowed the Knight and Padawan both to stride into the makeshift meditation chamber of one Lunafreya Solidor.
"I don’t suppose you're willing to let us just walk on by to the reactors are you?" He asked, brow quirking under his hood. Head tilting to the side as he addressed the various figures that were surrounding the sealed meditation chamber. "Set the ship to blow. You skedaddle. Your boss goes poof. We all win."
He doubted the tactic would work. But it was always something that at least needed to be tried. No matter how unlikely peaceful resolution was. There needed to be some attempt towards it. So instead of appealing to her better nature. He simply appealed to the self-serving side of the Sith present. Wondering if his offer would have the slightest impact on her decision-making process.
Vexander Graves
│
Mathieu Brion
│
Vulpesen
│ Caedyn Arenais |
Romi Jade
│
Starlin Rand
│ Maja Fiore │ Nathaniel Wellchoestor |
