Dominion The Root of the Problem | GA Dominion of Foerost

[Faith Organa]

Objective III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot
Coruscant // Galactic City
Senate Chamber // Grand Convocation Chamber
Tags //
Corala Gethsverg | Fable Solborne | Elayne Daklana | Westenra Mina | Ordon Trozky | Ido Bastra | Taega Vrav'lan | Maou Julius Loghain | Reynon Gallant

She felt her age beginning to creep up upon her once more. A silent observer watching as Senators were recognized and spoken and yet Theo sat quiet. His question still not quite answered. He did not yet have the expertise the gumption to stand up and ask to be recognized.

Faith however did not lack such experience. She had moved through the halls of the Senate and found her way to the pod designated for Alderaan. She then stepped forward passed her son, but yet giving him a smile to let him know everything was alright.

"Alderaan seeks to be recognized" and with those words uttered and the pod moving forward she looked about, gone were the faces of familiar allies, friends, comrades and representatives.

What was she going to say now what could she say, "I agree with the Senator from Prakith and I add that the Core Worlds are very often the target of those who want their resources, the position or they wish to destroy hope. Alderaan, Kuat, Corellia all know this only too well."

Alderaan had seen the Sith come too many times and seen too many deaths because of it. But she had also seen a Republic that craved power and sought to put them all back under a single rule.

"History if anything has taught us to be cautious when asked to build a military. Alderaan wants to know what does it take to build a strong military...what will be asked of all members to provide, or give up?"

And with that, "Alderaan yields the floor"

 

[Barr Vexos]

Objective Two- Missing Operatives.

Location : Inside The Down Star Destroyer

Equipment: REC-LA/02 Combat Armour HG-54 "The Vora" Verpine Hand Cannon REC-DC/01 "Thunderwasp" Particle Blaster Rifle C-11 "Nastirci" Combat Knife B-11 Greitis-class Combat Boots

Allies: GA


“Damnit, Damnit,DAMNIT!!!!”

It was like it happened in a few seconds of time to some of the soldiers alongside Barr. They thought they were prepared with all the training that they been through when they join the defense force with the job of protecting the GA and what it stood for.

Unfortunately, the Rakghouls were not something the soldiers have faced before.

Numerous sounds of blaster shots can be heard throughout the down star destroyer as each squad member in Barr’s rained down blot after blot on the incoming Rakghouls that were making their way to the group with Barr firing multiple concentrated shots of his own to various results. Most of them hits their intended target while some of them flew past the monsters that coming toward them. One of them manages to grab a hold of a solider and put him down to the ground; Only for a fellow soldier to put a hole through the Rakghoul soon after with a blaster pistol and kept firing at the others Rakghouls that were coming quickly to them.

Barr instinctively fell back, providing cover fire for his fellow soldiers who were doing the same thing. Barr took deep breaths, inhaling and exhales to maintain the composure he had before going into the ship. However, that was easier said than done, considering the more that were heading directing toward him.

“TAKE COVER!!” One person yelled as he fired his MG-966 "Hellfire" Class Verpine Shatter Gun toward the Rakghouls taking a few of them down. “Hope you don’t mind!!!” Barr quickly gets behind the person and proceeds to reload his Thunderwasp Blaster Rifle while the guy provides cover for him and his comrades with others standing beside him and making a makeshift wall.

Giving some breathing room for a few seconds, Barr takes the time to look around the area to look at the state of the soldiers around him, with some getting medical treatment for their wounds while others were firing their own weapons. One in particular was having a difficult time reloading his weapon. Barr could tell that fear has mostly taken over him and reminded him of when he was going through the same thing years ago. “Jeez,” he said, out of pity, Barr went over to him and reloaded his rifle before focusing his attention back onto the Rakghouls.”

 

[Julius Loghain]

"The Senate is reminded that the Galactic Alliance has no hostile relations with the Silver Jedi Order or the Confederacy of Independent Systems,"

"Yet." Julius retorted, a slight scowl forming on his face.

Trust, but verify.

They had to be ready for anything, at any time. Paranoia was a healthy trait one naturally incurred while serving in any intelligence agency, just like the Lord-Regent; a Vice Admiral of the Naval Intelligence of Kuat.

Julius remained silent, allowing senator Shute Gunray to retort to the concerns the representatives from Alderaan were bringing.

 

[Aldric]

​

Foerost
Survive the ancient Star Destroyer, Objective II
Big spook vibes
Actors: GA Survivor Kiyanu, Open

S O U L S _ O F _ M I S T

​

Kiyanu, as the trandoshan's name turned out to be, was an excellent tracker and had led them quite far through the labyrinthine Star Destroyer's halls. Their footsteps, in fact, rivalled that of a Noghri out on the hunt. The mechanic in and out of Aldric's breathing was the only audible sound that echoed through the corridors. Occasionally, the growl of Rak'ghouls deeper in the ship punctuated the rhythm, prompting them to huddle, hidden in any wall recess they could find, until an arbitrary amount of time passed, and they deemed it safe to move on.

Aldric allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief when the rustling sound he heard turned out to be the Alliance scout stirring from his hiding spot. He stepped out from behind his own space, relinquishing the grip on the Force he had used to camouflage his hiding spot.

When Aldric found Kiyanu in the darkness the trandoshan was still, however. The scout's hand had dropped to his blaster's holster and his other gestured a few militaristic commands in Aldric's direction before he slipped back into the crevice in the wall. The trandoshan had picked up on something Aldric, even with his Jedi senses, had not.

Perhaps it was the distracting pain of the broken arm, or maybe the pervasive dark presence that clouded his senses. He wasn't sure, but it took the sudden agonizing raking of claws against durasteel one corridor down for Aldric to notice the Rak'ghoul as his companion had. Instantly, he forced himself back against the wall of his shelter with enough vigour to cause an audible thud as the impact of his back against the wall sent a jolt through his body.

The noise echoed down the corridors, and the raking stopped shortly after. The Rak'ghoul sniffed the air intently, loud enough to be heard even at a distance. It let loose a blood-curdling wail and just as quick as it had paused, the raking resumed at a disconcerting speed, headed directly towards them.

Concern gripped Aldric, then guilt. He scolded himself mentally for his lapse in mindfulness. Jedi training had taught him the importance of always being attuned to his surroundings, but he let his senses be clouded by personal discomfort. Now that mistake might cost the life of an innocent. He couldn't allow that to happen. With quick movements, he unfurled the cloth around his waist and used it to tie his broken arm against his chest. It was a rushed job, but it held.

The Rak'ghoul drew closer, their thunderous approach accompanied by starved wails. Aldric's hand brushed over the hilt hidden beneath his robes. He drew the weapon, carefully, while he listened to the savage footfalls crescendo.

When their approach reached its peak, Aldric broke free of his hiding place. The darkness came apart by the violet light of his sabre, revealing the grim visage of the closest beast. The blade had cut it down before it realized what had happened, guided by a steadied hand. The second beast barely had the chance to roar its bloodlust before it met the same fate as its pack-mate.

Fear had given way to focus as the Jedi mantra distantly echoed in Aldric's mind. What had been guilt moments earlier turned to resolve. He knew the Rak'ghoul as destructive creatures, tragic as their origin may be, they did nothing but seek to twist or destroy whatever they could get their hands on. Though he mourned for their fates, Aldric wouldn't let the scout succumb to the Rak'ghouls claws.

Another flourish of the violet blade severed a beast's forearm just before it could find its mark, then embedded itself in that same Ghoul's chest. His work confirmed by the thud of the beast's body, Aldric's eyes quickly scanned the tenebrous corridor for the last of its pack. Where had it ...?

A sense at the edge of his mind warned him before he could even hear the Rak'ghoul's claws dig into the floor as it leapt at his back. He seized up as he turned to bring his lightsabre to bear.

The violet glow illuminated the Rak'ghoul's maw as it roared a primal hunger directly into Aldric's face. Globs of spit splattered against his skin and the nauseating stench of its breath forced itself through the filters in his mask.

The smell of fermented gore that assaulted his senses was disorienting. The sulfuric breath caused his eyes to shut and his head to turn away reflexively. He tried to bring the sabre into the Ghoul's path but found himself undone by the assault on his senses. The humid air already lapped at his face.

An ear-cracking thunder broke above the gurgling of the Rak'ghoul's throat as a flash illuminated the corridor. The next moment a thud echoed through the hallway, followed by silence.

Aldric felt the unnerving warmth fade from his face and drew in a quick, odourless breath. He forced his eyes open, watery from the sulfur, and cautiously raised his sabre to illuminate the corridor.

The Rak'ghoul laid sprawled on the floor. Its head smoked from a stained black scorch mark square between its empty eyesockets.

Aldric turned in the direction of the thunder's origin.

Kiyanu stood half-concealed behind the crevice in the wall with his blaster in hand, though his grip was shaky. His entire body appeared tense, gaze intently locked on the Rak'ghoul's corpse.

"My gratitude, scout," Aldric said.

He could feel the fear that gripped the trandoshan, but he could also sense determination underneath. Ever since the man had separated from his team, he had been forced to hide. Aldric could sense the pent up duress, even as it melted away into newfound confidence. He figured that actually staking a kill on one of his pursuers made for quite the cathartic release. He wondered if the man knew to keep from revelling in revenge.

"We need to remind ourselves that they were once like us. Thinking, feeling, people," the Jedi continued.

Kiyanu scoffed.

"I sssaw them rip apart my entire sssquad, Jedi."

Aldric remained silent as they resumed finding their path through the corridors.

 

[Adhira Chandra]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Senate Building
Grand Convocation Chamber
Objective III
~ Deliberate Increased Military Spending ~

Spoiler: Senate Tags

Emmen Tagge Julius Loghain Fable Solborne Faith Organa Shute Gunray Mina Praji Raona Cadera Maou Reynon Gallant Sssar Taszzn Gat Tambor Dash'iell Cosmos Elayne Daklana Ido Bastra

​

"Yet?" Adhira glared across the chamber at Julius Loghain as her repulsorpod joined the fray in the middle of the Senate Chamber. The Senator scoffed loudly into the microphone, raising a hand to the Chancellor to signify that she sought recognition. She hardly wanted to give Shute Gunray the opportunity to spin his yarn in support of increased military spending before she had a chance to voice her concerns. Ironically, it was the general position of the Senators in the Centrist voting bloc that there needed to be a stronger centralized military force, but she wasn't going to let the reason for that be fear-mongering from Kuat.​

​

"Chancellor, forgive me, but I think my colleagues will agree that we do not gather in this hallowed hall to legislate with hypotheticals. My honorable friend from Kuat says we need to be prepared IF the Confederacy becomes hostile or IF the Silver Jedi attack." She placed a hand on her hip and held the other one aloft to add emphasis to her mocking tone. "All due respect to my honorable friends, but IF my grandmother had been born with repulsorlifts she would have been a speeder bike." Adhira allowed a pause to let the muffled laughter ripple through the hall.​

​

"We must live in the now and while I tentatively support Caamas' call for a more robust round of funding for the centralized Defense Force, I am wary of the motivation for this legislative agenda. I am also diametrically opposed to the notion that our need for a stronger military should be used as an opportunity to provoke our neutral neighbors."​

​

"I also caution this body from moving our Alliance into a position where our economic stability is reliant on the military-industrial complex. This would be a great folly, the same trap that governments like ours have fallen into for millennia... funding for the military should only be increased to the levels required, no more." Adhira found a little unsettling to be backpaddling her own platform, but she did not trust Kuat or Caamas for that matter.​

​

"I yield."​

 

[Ryv]

// Paragon //
// Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Within the Star Destroyer //
// ??? //
// P Placeholder 0128 // Dak // Loske Treicolt //

​

Nothings changed?

Ryv stifled a grimace at that statement. He looked between Cedic and Dak, his mind drifting to the days the duo seemed inseparable. The young Kiffar recalled his training beneath Cedric, the countless hours spent honing his body and mind to one day serve as an agent of the Grayson Imperium. He'd dedicated so much in preparation for the war he knew would come, expecting wholly for a Sith-Imperial push into the Core. Yet, the push never came, Something else rising up, taking the war to the crimson tide. Those Ryv expected to see upon the battlefield weren't there, replaced instead by the white-armored forms of Stormtroopers and former Sith loyalists. With the galaxy flipped onto its head, the Jedi Knight struggled to see how things could be seen as the same.

"Cedric, things might be working the same for you. You know, going out there, picking fights with bad guys, and doing the damn thing. For the rest of us, though, things are different," Ryv shifted his place, moving to stand beside Dak at the mouth of the corridor. "We're fighting the war. This is the one that can beak the Sith. This is the war that can free Ession, and you're not here, man," the Jedi slid his hands into his jacket pockets. "If you're down to keep doing the good work, there is way more to be done than clearing out ships like this. I've got guys who can do this, especially with the GADF on call. We don't have enough people like you: powerful Jedi, military training, capable leaders. We're sorely lacking," he paused as his commlink buzzed.

< "Holocron's location has been confirmed. We'll secure it, but sharing our location just in case. Status on missing operatives?" >

Lifting the commlink to his lips, Ryv activated the device.

< "Something came up, I haven't located any of our guys. Get the Holocron out of here, and we'll rendevous at outpost 2-1 outside Hajibar. Dak and I will meet you guys there when we finish up." >

Ryv deactivated the commlink and hooked it in place beside the lightsaber hilt. He looked back to Cedric, unsure of what to say.

"I, uh-" Ryv's hands moved to his face, fingers massaging his temple as if warding off an oncoming migraine. "The Holocron needs to be removed from the ship, that's for sure. Whether we destroy it or lock it away doesn't matter right now. I've got people working their way through the ship, killing every rakghoul they come across. Other Jedi are trying to determine what caused the crash, how the dark side has kept such a strong grip on this ship, and whether or not there are other dangers aboard we aren't aware of," he looked between Cedric and Dak once more, the palm of his hand now resting on the Blade of Ruusan, welcoming its calming touch without complaint. "You don't need to fix every problem, Cedric. We can sit down and figure things out. No need to drive yourself to such impossibilities alone, when we'll only be stronger together."

Ryv silently chided himself for his own hypocrisies.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

// BLOOD EAGLE //
// Shadow //
// Foerost / Depths of the Star Destroyer //
// Allyson Locke //

Zaavik curled up against the wall, writhing immense pain. The plague had taken hold rather quickly, twisting his insides around and causing a burning sensation all over. This was really it, huh? Not exactly the way he expected or wanted to go. Not nearly as heroic as defending others, or nearly as cash as dying in his own bed surrounded by Zeltros' finest. Instead, it was miserable, painful, and humiliating. He leaned forward even more under the grip of the pain, forehead against the floor. Never in a hundred years would he have imagined that pain could be this severe. He faded in and out of consciousness, surfing the threshold between the aware and the unaware.

"I got it! I got it!" cried out a young Zaavik, running through the door of a Zeltros slum-house. His small feet clamored across the creaky wooden floor and brought him to the table where the adults sat. His small hand reached up to place a handful of credit-ingots onto the table. The rolled sightly with metallics knocks and clanks. "I got him to pay up, just like you said! He even gave me more than he was supposed to," he declared excitedly. One of the adults picked up the credits, inspecting them for a moment before clenching tightly. There was a long pause of silence, a terrifying sign that Zaavik had learned to fear. "D-Dad?"

His entire face lit up with sudden pain as a blur of red skin came for his face. In his ears sounded a sickening crunch that coincided with a sharp burning in his nose. With a loud thud he hit the ground, tears already starting to well in his eyes. "These are Imperial Credits! Worthless! And for the last time, I ain't your daddy, kid," A boot to the gut, in both the figurative and literal sense. Rolled forcefully to face away, he began to cough violently from all the air that suddenly escaped his lungs on impact. "My swoop blew a fuse again. Quit your cryin' and go fix it if you wanna eat tonight," the adult ordered, sitting back down to his holo-sabacc game.

Angry. The memory always made him angry, but this time it's as if that was all he was; Angry. Something ate away at his psyche, replacing any sense emotion with feral rage. Grunting, growling, and panting heavily he grabbed either side of his head. He pushed himself back up against the wall, hair obscuring his face like a ragged vagrant. Shoving against the floor with his feet, his back pressed into the wall. Any sense of measure fell away, all reason flooded beneath the endless sea of rage that overcame him. He lost consciousness again, physical and mental strain sending him into shutdown.

"Zaavik, it's me!"

Everything sounded so distant. Not a single thought could be kept straight. What's happing? Why do I hurt? I'm HUNGRY. kILL mAIm eAT. ShARP PAIN ARM. BaD. GrAb, ScrATCH, FIGHT.

The non-injected arm of Zaavik flew forward in a jagged and animalistic motion to grab Allyson by the shoulder in a tight and desperate grasp. His fingers squeezed inwards, as if trying to pierce with claws that hadn't yet sprouted. Pushing the needle further in, his other arm thrashed forward, clawing at eye, mouth, and neck. Grabbing for the throat, scratching at the face. From between gritted teeth and curled lips his mouth foamed, muffled grunts and growls frantically sounding of as he struggled against her attempts to restrain and calm.

His bloody eyes rolled backward just as his face almost seemed to twist and deform. Within a few moments, his thrashing had gone from violent to half-asked. The growls turned into groans and wheezes. Nearly limp his torso fell back against the wall. Each eyelid fluttered frantically, sending the welled up blood down his face further. Heaving breathing gave way into slow and shallow rasps as he fell into a trance beneath the calming energy Allyson forced through him.

The dreams started again.

 

[Ido Bastra]

// CORUSCANT, GRAND CONVOCATION CHAMBER //
// SHUTE OURSELVES IN THE FOOT //

​

Ido stood from his seat on the repulsorpod. The aid of a cane helped him get to his feet, albeit slowly. He'd recovered enough from his previous issues that he was capable of walking and standing now, but not unassisted of course. "If the Silver Jedi's inaction in the face of the Sith Empire is anything to go off of, I doubt we'll be seeing any hostilities from them. The Confederacy however, well," his eyes scanned over Julius Loghain before falling on Adhira Chandra before he spoke again. "We must address these hypotheticals now before they blindside us when they become reality. The Confederacy has regressed into an isolationist state, and we should all know well enough that self-sufficiency isn't plausible on such a large scale. When their resources dwindle and their system begins to buckle they'll start looking to war to take what they lack. And we're their smallest neighbor, which paints a target directly on our foreheads."

He tuened to the rest of the convocation chamber as the repuslorpod floated slowly to the center. "The Sith Empire has been a sleeping rancor on the edge of the Tingel Arm for years. Now, the New-Imperials have poked and prodded at them, waking them from their slumber. When a counter-retalition comes, and believe me it will, we're just as at risk as the New-Imperials even despite our distance from them." He was leaning heavier on his cane than when he had stared. He cleared his throat loudly and patted his chest a few times, excusing himself quietly as he tried to muster the breath to continue.

"I share Senator Chandra's concern about leaning too heavily on military spending, lest we regress into a total war-economy. And, you should all know full well my reluctance to put any extra burden on the taxpayer. Alas, these are the price and risks we must take to ensure the safety of the Core and its people. With a measured approach to implementing an expansion of our border security and wartime production, we can take the necessary steps to prevent it from getting out of hand. If we turn a blind eye to galactic affairs and let our hubris get the best of us on this matter, the core will once again fall into nefarious hands."

With a small nod of his head, the pod returned to its station, and the old Senator took a seat.

Julius Loghain Shute Gunray Adhira Chandra Maou Fable Solborne Sssar Taszzn Gat Tambor Raona Cadera Emmen Tagge andwhoeverelsethere'sabunchofsenatorsdont@me​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Star Destroyer, Engine Section
Obj 2

"I would have dealt with it on my own anyway, but yes, I will help them, and you," Cedric replied to Dak . The Jedi had his own reasons for staying far and away from the Galactic Alliance. If they had wanted him at the front of the charge against the Sith, then they should not have revoked his ability to orchestrate a war. As things were, the Essonian war machine had ceased to exist, and the battle plans for the mass military industrialization that would have allowed for total war with the Sith Empire scuffed, or at least he assumed as much. His access to the government's internal documentation had disappeared along with the rest of his authorities.

Even still, Cedric was a loyal dog. Some of the stars of this alliance were former students and friends. If there was to be war: true, horrible, damning war, then his place was at the front. Points of bitterness would need to be set aside for the greater good, and private betrayals ignored for the sake of the future.

A quiet sigh escaped Cedric's lips as he cast a look around the corridor. They'd been lucky enough not to be interrupted by Rakghouls, but that luck could run out at anytime.

After a moment's thought, Cedric spoke. "If the Galactic Alliance needs me as you say it does, then I need my rights to war reinstated. Your senate must appoint me with the powers required to call my banners and lead my legions, otherwise I will be of no further use than simply being another Jedi on the field." Still a formidable force, truthfully, and Cedric was not so arrogant as to think himself above common duties of war. It was how he'd spent the last few months of his life after all.

"If not, then I can only offer a sword. That being said, I don't trust your leadership to put forward the best possible candidates to orchestrate a war effort against the Sith, and the enemies that will turn on the alliance the moment bastion falls. The elements of the High Republic it has incorporated have a bad track record," he added as his thoughts returned to the Republic admiralty that had seen fit to turn the issue of Kuat's sovereignty from a border dispute into a full scale debacle that had almost brought about war.

He would not be bound by the will of mortals. While it was true he had a soft spot for both Dak and Ryv , and that their requests had stirred something in him he'd otherwise elected to ignore, he would not return to serve the will of a bureaucracy unless he had the wiggle room to do what needed to be done without suffering the deliberations of a committee.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Save the Padawan //:
//: Heading to the Surface //:
//: I did it for you //:
Zaavik Perl

​

He was strong, Allyson didn't know if the strength was from him or the poison that flowed through his veins. She did her best not to panic despite everything in her mind telling her to do so. Her voice lost on him as he screamed and yelled. A hand latched on to her shoulder, fingers dug into her, threatening to crush the bone. Allyson finished the injection, trying to take the pain that shot through her left arm. He was strong and was getting stronger with each passing second. Bone threatened to collapse, her shoulder screaming in pain, yet she continued till the last of the serum had entered his body. ​

"Zaavik, I know it hurts, but it will pass - I promise, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I left you alone." She watched and deflected his reach. Each strike moving quicker, attempting to claw at her face and eyes. Her forearms taking the brunt of his attacks started to bleed with deep scratch marks, it didn't matter - her pain meant nothing. The healing and calming weren't happening fast enough, relinquishing her defenses her hands moved to him channeling as much of the Force as she could. Fingers wrapped around her throat, his hand large enough to nearly take the entirety of her neck. Instantly she felt his firm grip start to crush her, stopping her ability to breathe. "Z-Z-Zaavik" she managed to try and speak to him, each second passed slowly - her vision hazing but her focus continued to heal him with the Force. ​

If he killed her, at least he would be able to live. He was worth her sacrifice. Zaavik had entrusted her to teach him and to protect him from the dangers of the galaxy. As a Master, she was to foster his learning, showing him what it was to be a Jedi. But how could she? Allyson was just as lost as Zaavik was. Her mind continued to work quickly, trying to find the answers to her failures, was this all she could give him in the end - another chance to live and learn? The room began to spin as she could feel the pressure around her neck continue to tighten. He was going to kill her, maybe she deserved it. She had failed as a Master - her Padawan was dying - suffering. If only she could ensure just one more chance for him. ​

"He's the one on the left." Allyson watched next to one of the older Masters of the Coruscant Temple. The Jedi Shadow had decided to forego her personal endeavors and join the fight against the Sith Empire. As a Master, she knew she needed to take on a student, but she needed a few things to make sure of. "He has an affinity with technology as I had described?" The Jedi Master nodded, her face wrinkled with age, but kind. The request from the Jedi Shadow was curious, but the woman obliged. "He's quite good with everything you asked of him." Allyson smiled, "I'll be taking him as my student. Please inform him. I have things to take care of." The Master nodded and continued with her smile, "May the Force be with you, Master Locke." ​

The memory faded as she regained consciousness. It seemed she had been out for only a few minutes, the serum and her calm healing had sedated the ravenous Padawan. "Zaavik?" She looked at him with caution, she had expected him to be dead, but his chest rose and fell. A smile of relief crossed the Corellian's face as tears fell from her eyes. He was okay for now, tearing a part of her sleeve, she reached forward and wiped the blood from his face. Allyson watched him, making sure they were out of the dark for the moment. She needed to move him back to the surface and get them both out of this hell hole, but she really didn't know-how. Zaavik was a big boy and outweighed her. Although she knew it would be a struggle, the Corellian had to try, she needed to work at least. ​

Pain throbbed at her neck, bruising already settling in from his crushing grab. A headache emerged as her brain was finally getting the oxygen it had been denied minutes prior. Watching him, she couldn't help but break down. "I'm so sorry." A hand covered her face as she shook her head and sobbed. "I shouldn't be your Master. I can't protect you, I can't teach you, I can't do anything a Master is supposed to be able to do." Tears fell from her face as she cried, anguish poured from her heart as she pulled him against her, his blood staining her clothing. "I wanted to be the one to teach you because I remember you. Your life mirrored mine so much it hurt, knowing I couldn't help you back on Zeltros. I didn't want you to feel alone anymore. Zaavik, I didn't want you to feel like I've felt almost my whole life. You don't have to be alone anymore," Fingers clutched the thick fabric of his shirt as she hugged him tightly, hoping that whatever strength she had could be passed to him. All she could see was the small Zeltron boy - too scared to take the food from her. He was alone, like her, with no one to really care. His lonely face always haunted her dreams. "I tried to find you, but I couldn't - then I- I found you at the temple I knew you would be safe after because you were going to be a Jedi." ​

Her face buried into his shoulder as she slowly began to stand with his weight upon her. The Force flowing through her body, enhancing her strength as she scooped the Padawan the best she could. Holding him close, she began to walk, carrying him the same path she came from. "I promise you, after this, you'll be put with a Master that can protect you and guide you onto the right path. I'm so sorry, Zaavik, please forgive me... I'm not worthy of being your Master…"​

Allyson continued, climbing through the buildings taking Zaavik to the surface towards the exit of the ship. As she drew closer, she sent a signal through the comms relaying that she needed a medic and help. Every bit of her strength was put into saving her Padawan, it was the least she could do - before telling him goodbye.​

 

[Emmen Tagge]

Senate Building // Grand Convocation Chamber
Obj III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot

Spoiler: Tags

Julius Loghain
Reynon Gallant
Faith Organa
Maou
Shute Gunray
Ido Bastra
Adhira Chandra

​

Before the Senate meeting...

"We both know it's not so black and white, Ms. Praji," he responds with a sigh, adjusting his collar as the small group congregate on the docked Podium in the center of his office, "especially in our shoes. We can't deny that, sometimes, the best way to help those who look to us is through federal support. Populist or not. What is important is that we respect the will of the Senate and do not overstep our executive authority without justification."

He nods to give his approval before the Staff Aide triggers the spire to rise to the Grand Chamber above them, but continues speaking, "as long as we're doing what we think it right for the people and respecting the will of the majority, I don't think we have to worry that much just yet." The Podium comes to a stop at the center of the Rotunda, prompting Emmen to glance between Mina and Lisza at his sides, "now, if I start reposting the words of Loghain across our official channels, I encourage you to intervene."

He gives the two a smirk.

Presently...

These discussions were quickly becoming concerning. With the exception of a few good points, it had devolved into nothing but fear-mongering and corporatists nonsense. Advocating for caution when it came to their southern neighbours was one thing, but the idea that Concordia might become an enemy was completely ludicrous to the Chancellor. While he didn't always agree with their lax posture on matters of importance to the Federal Assembly, it was a far-stretch to paint the Silver Jedi as a potential threat. The Kuati representative's desire for border security might be respectable, but these baseless accusations were not.

Then, of course, there was the clear corporatist agenda at play. This matter was less concerning as it was unavoidable, but increased federal spending on the Defense Force meant more and larger contracts for those is the business of war. Technoid Manufactorum, Republic Engineering Corporation and Kuati Drive Yards, to name a few, all stood to gain from increased military funding.

As the Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance, it was only natural that Emmen would be forced to support a mix of Centrist and Populist agendas. Despite being a proud supporter of planetary sovereignty, he was only able to aid the sectors who relied on him through the use of federal assets. It was a struggle to find the balance sometimes. With the Third Imperial Civil War in full swing and the mysterious Bryn'adul rallying their forces along the Concordian border, it was the responsible choice to support increased military spending. Nevertheless, it was surprising to see this become the common ground for all their parties.

There was a line here that he would have to be careful not to cross.

"The Podium claims the floor," Emmen's digitally projected voice reverberates through the rotunda. He had heard enough.

Looking out across the pods surrounding him, he begins, "we mustn't allow this place to become a platform for fear mongering and hearsay. However, on the subject of increased military spending, I find myself in agreement that it is a necessity given the current state if affairs. As it is, the Defense Force is stretched thin. We have troops engaged in the war with the Sith to the north, stationed along the Brentaalan Quarantine Zone, and -- if the intelligence reports are accurate -- preparing for the imminent threat of an escalating conflict with the so-called 'Bryn'adul'. I cannot in good conscious expect your worlds to mobilize their Legions against these enemies."

He looks down to the viewscreen in front of him, looking over the numbers that had been quickly crunched and sent to him.

"Prakith, Alderaan and Balmorra have raised fair concerns. We should avoid inflating our assets beyond necessity and be cautious to not establish an economic dependency on mobilization. I hereby declare that the Podium will support the proposition to increase funding to the Defense Force, but not at the expense of funding for other federal services," the Chancellor keys at his control panel to formally issue a vote, "based on the points and concerns raised, I officially propose a temporary increase to federal income taxes across all Alliance systems that shall be allocated to the Ministry of Defense."

 

[Camo Orerig]

Objective II
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer

​

Camo ran full sprint back up the corridor, he'd lost all of his earlier composure. No more was he considering the fates of others, his mind was focused solely on one thing. Survival. The squadron he had entered with was scattered over this portion of the Star Destroyer, either fighting for the lives or already hunting their former companions.

He rounded a corner and slipped on something wet, it nearly sent him flying, but he just kept his feet as he scanned the corridor for some form of escape. He could hear the creatures behind him, their howls, the scraping of their claws on the durasteel walls and each other which was accompanied by even more howls. The Corellian continued to search for an exit strategy whilst running as fas as he could, he'd had a decent head start on the beasts, but they were catching him, and quick.

"Frink!" shouted the Ranger as he knew he was running out of time. He burst through a mangled doorway slipped on something else, this time he wasn't so lucky. He hit the floor hard. His rifle slipped out of his hand and landed well out of his reach, his head hit the floor with a sickening thud. Everything started to go out of focus as Camo began to fumble around searching for something on his bandoliers. The howls grew louder, they sounded excited now, they knew they were close. Camo found what he was looking for as the beasts came into view, he could feel himself drifting away, "focus!" thought as he activated the device and threw it with all he could muster, in truth it flew a few feet and rolled the rest of the way, it did however detonate.

Camo tried to remain conscious to see the result of the blast. He didn't. The last thing he saw was the white light of the blast and then nothing.

 

[Carolina Tevinter]

Senate Building // Grand Convocation Chamber

Objective III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot

During her lifetime the Azure System had been repeatedly abandoned by the New Republic and subsequently conquered three or four times, depending on how you want to count it. She was twelve when Coruscant fell to the One Sith Empire. She had just finished the Anaxes War College when her planet’s government acquiesced and surrendered without resistance to the Sith to avoid an unwinnable battle. Carolina Tevinter understood the consequences when a democracy was ill-prepared to meet the next challenge.

She held out a fist, “The Azure System seeks recognition,”

“I appreciate the points made by my colleagues from Prakith and Alderaan. Throughout my life I have witnessed the One Sith Empire at best trample upon peoples’ liberties and at worst the slaughter of innocents.”

“The Azure Imperium will support investment in our common defense,”

Carolina turned and looked up. “Chancellor, I would like to however offer a friendly amendment,”

“Along with the proposed taxes, we also establish a Military Oversight to examine and review our military expenditures and ensure our taxpayers are receiving the highest value for their credits. This committee would work to identify and eliminate waste, fraud, and abuse in the Ministry of Defense, and provide senatorial oversight over matters pertaining to the common defense of the Galactic Alliance, including the development, maintenance, and operation of our armed forces.”

Carolina brought her hands to her side and knelt her head. “The Azure Imperium yields the floor.” She straightened her back, and awaited the Chancellor's response.

 

[Faith Organa]

Senate Building // Grand Convocation Chamber
Objective III - Shute Ourselves in the Foot

Internally she swore as she listened. This measure would pass no matter what, once the podium claimed the floor and spoke that was it for debate, concerns would all be pushed to the side to support the measure. She did not know him or anything about him. Item 1 on the list.

Faith leaned back she recognized the need for concerns all around the Core events happened that she would have to admit warranted a reaction. Fear maybe, she feared her citizens being hurt of the children of the elders being called to serve in a war they hated. She looked at Theo who clearly did not understand it was experience that would teach him.

That is what she would do then just as her mother had done for her she would do for Theo, he would be the constant here on Coruscant. The embassy had quarters for permanent representation and their ambassador...she would need a new one someone who could...she laughed. She had an idea that would probably not have support from the High Council but it was worth a try.

But now she needed to focus here once more committees would be formed, positions established all in the name of oversight.

"Alderaan would like to respond." She stood up inched forward, her tiny frame had never really stood tall, "Alderaan supports the suggestion made by the Representative from the Azure System for military oversight" She looked around again trying to memorize new faces. "Alderaan relinquishes the floor"

Theo sat straight not sure of what just happened.

Carolina Tevinter | Emmen Tagge | Ido Bastra | Adhira Chandra

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //
// OBJECTIVE // Beneath The Sadow Of Doom
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Auteme
Armor | Saber

<In my experience, these things tend to be booby trapped.>

<I’m hoping the Rakghouls are the extent of that.>

<"You'd think a Sith would be more clever than that. All the same, that's probably the case."> Maynard retorted. It was no small task to underestimate these sort of trappings. He'd made that mistake twice over when dealing with the now Triumvir of Power of the Sith Empire. He'd proven he could be easily fooled, manipulated by the darkness as much as he utilized his own innate shades of peril for his own betterment. It was a dangerous game, one both Loske and Ryv warned him of time and time again. All the same, it hadn't failed him quite yet. If anything, it might be one of the only reasons these two stood side by side here now.

At the very least, it was Outriders's rationale to keep his grasp about the darkness. At the very least, he'd used it to save himself as he did save her and avenge his loved ones. It had seemed to be a mutually beneficial dynamic. Even if now his confidence was suspended. They'd found it, his eyes entranced with the miasma of crimson and blackness swirling around the esoteric dark relic.

A N N I H I L A T I O N

But...in the end, someone had to retrieve the holocron. If it rested here and festered, there'd be no purging this vessel of the unclean. No hope of restoring the area in the immediate proximity of the Star Destroyer. Feeling Loske cling to his arm he swallowed down a deep breath before he stepped forward from her side and toward the object.

He could feel it all radiating around him, seemingly ionizing in the air. Darkness manifest. He approached alone as his subconscious was wracked with tempting voices which seemed to drown out any resistance offered up by his companion to his actions, if anything her inflection could only seem to source from the dark relic of Sadow. He stepped closer until the structure of the holocon began to slowly unravel itself before him. It sensed a sentient who'd let the darkness breed within himself unfettered and barely checked.

Feeling his presence pulled toward the object suspended in darkness he make out the black and reddish crystalline pyramid in its finality. Reaching out, he touched it.

His vision of plain reality distorted by the swirling darkness was replaced in a rapidly shifting reel of tortured memories and the voices of words long snuffed into open air. Though now each inflection came with a searing sting as his finger tips and hand wrapped around the vessel felt alight with the necrotic fires of a dark parasitic envelopment.

"SEARCH THE AREA - FIND THE JEDI."
--
"Well- we've got him now."

"In death, I am born -"

<"Look at me! Look at me! I wanna see your eyes!">

"You saw it, and it frightened you."

"The darkness."

“Why are we doing this.”

Until soon enough it was all drowned in the bloodied waters of a deafening ring that might've been the coup de grace of this trance. He wrenched it from its pedastal only to drop it with a clatter unto the floor beneath of the space hulk, his body all but collapsing. Drained, weak. Unconscious for the briefest of moments he regained his awareness only to screw his eyes shut again in an attempt to reach out in the force. Nothing. Blindness. He could only find solace in the heavy breathing he heard as each claw for life washed against the interior of his helmet, that deafening screech slowly fading into reality again as he slowly made his way back to his feet again only to collapse and catch himself his temple banging against the floor again. He felt weak and powerless. He could only hope against hope that this sensation of helplessness would fade away but each passing moment as a signal of permanance in his mistake.

Not as if he could gauge anything right now as he knelt against the floor beneath, barely clawing to regain his strength after it'd been sapped by the dark relic.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective II - Beneath the Sadow of Doom
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer
JTSP // Maynard Treicolt // Auteme
Swan Song​

Caution to the wind, protocol didn’t exist here. As soon as Ryv’s instructions with the rendezvous point came through, and a report of no survivors discovered from the Ranger squadron — she turned to look at May who’d stepped away from her and toward…..

Abject horror ripped from her throat, that turned into a desperate choke when their bond turned into a supernova. It bludgeoned, stretching the limits of the metaphysical and clenching a tight fist around her ethereal existence relative to his own. Loske’s world contracted to a small space inside her own skull, then slowly bloomed out again in pain. Much like when Cedric had made their bond taut, before severing it entirely. But Maynard was right here, opening himself to the flood of whatever was contained in that dark prism. It was as intense as it was evil. Control threatened its delicacy, and Loske desperately sought not to lose it.

It didn’t seem to matter how many times she repeated variations of his name to get his attention, to wrench him from whatever was happening. He was deaf to the world.

And that world around him awakened. The creatures that had been dozing unperturbed snapped to full alert. Screeches and growls replaced what should have been yawns.

What had been no-good, very bad, not a great time, had turned into something beyond terrible.

Static crackled over her comms, the harshness erupting in her ears only peppered with the repetition of her name.

"Loske? Loske, are you there?"

Panic cored through her, and she concentrated to reorient her focus on the situation to preserve themselves and the objective.

<I can barely hear you, Auteme.> Her voice cracked through the comms, feigning bravery. <We’re in trouble down here.>

Loske, compromised by her emotions and the darkness that drenched the balance between herself and The Knight, was delayed in her reactions to the impending doom.

Catching him from his stumbling and eventual fall was out of the question with the encroaching flesh-eating mutants. Their claws and gnashing teeth took no pause, and their terrible bodies leapt from the niches. Some of them were failing, too high up, legs scraping at the walls without the strength to pull themselves forward or landing on the ground for a spasmodic moment. The interaction affected some, rendering them incapable as if dying from a poison. The others were an aggressive problem. The air was thick with mindless roars.

There wasn’t even time to cuss. A bellowing eruption rolled from her extended palms, knocking the onslaught’s approach back. Their claws dig into the durasteel, a majority preventing themselves from being pushed back.

How many of these had been human? How many of them had been crewmen, waiting to get to port and back to their homes? Such hesitation needed to be compartmentalized if she were to protect them from being torn asunder.

The golden blade thrumming at her side gave a decisive twirl before she gripped it with augmented strength that was assured to cut through the encroaching monsters. They clammered from all sides, recovering from her initial blast.

Consideration, logic and compassion gave way to action. Melting into a tool that imbued her movements. Contrary to how she felt within, she relaxed and let the Force flow through her. Usually, in battle-like situations, the Force seemed to fall silent -- not to desert her, but to become no more than an instinct or alarm when needed. This time, however, Loske found herself connecting to everything around her, as though she were in a meditative trance. Everything was dark, and cruel. There was no time to wait for suggestion, she had to be the first to act and The Force would help her. There was no hesitation from the mutations that charged, and they were met with equal tenacity. A flurry of motion, precariously darting, dodging, weaving, slicing, cutting, stabbing. Up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right, both the blade and it’s wielder were untraceable; like a cat, leaping from shoulders to the ground and back again. All to keep the attention on her and away from the downed Knight. Controlled bursts and delivered brutalities, with brilliant bursts of golden tendrils erupted from around her at the girl’s command. Not keeping count of the mutilations, she wrenched her rod from the neck of the final one, doubling over in a pant from the exertion.

With the adrenaline subsiding, it was the first time she felt the growling pain along her thigh. A distinct claw mark raked through the fabric of her suit, which was already diligently reforming to cover the wound and administer bacta. She'd need an antidote and probably only had a few good hours before things got really stressful. Or she had the mental space to tackle it with Art of the Small. In the meantime, the torn muscle and skin were painful enough. She wheezed hoarsely, steeling herself.

Blindly she searched for his signature. He wasn’t there. That onyx weight that bore down on their bond completely enveloped the representation of her partner, oversaturating, bloating and swelling until it was something malformed. She couldn’t feel him. The blackness was greedy and wanted everything he had. Hungrily, the void gnashed it’s teeth and consumed without constraint.

A chilling realization crept through her bones, making her blood run cold.

The demarcation of anything between them failed. What had once been distinctly Maynard was little more than a vibration in nothingness.

His position was reminiscent of Harnaidan’s streets, and she reeled.

"But I just watched, experienced, you almost dying May. I felt your last few breaths, what you thought were your last moments.”

“I just, I’ve never felt this crushed before. Seeing you like that. Feeling it. It's making me question why. I guess I'm playing catch up.”

"I can’t..yeah, we both made it out this time, but how many times do we have to make that gamble? Neither of us know the answer unless we give it. Unless we say no more times.

But when it gets too much, if I ever see that...you like that again, I’m going to tell you I want out.

She cared little for the fallen artifact, and more to the fallen Jedi. Immediately to her knees, Loske dropped to his side, bracing her arms over him to reassure him he wasn’t alone. She was shaking, a combination of the exertion and stress of the entire situation. Frantic fingers grasped, clawed at him to draw him near to her. Her head was pounding, and she beat back the overwhelming need to protect him and forgo everything else. That’s not the promise they’d made to each other. He wasn’t dead, but..this wasn’t an easy sight. Especially when she was expecting to feel his pain and instead, only a phantom resonance existed.

We both made it out, that's all that matters to me.

I don't know if I can keep going if I see you like you were at Muunilinst again...or the same with me.

They had to make it out of here. At least to the rendezvous point –– then annihilate this ship of horrors.

“May,” she urged tensely, her helmet receding back into the nano-tech of the suit to reduce the likelihood that any voice modulation would make her undetectable. She had no idea what was happening beneath that helmet, other than the obviousness that it wasn’t good. “Can you hear me? How bad is the hurt? Are you..what happened?” Any question at this point was dumb, but the damage she couldn’t suss without asking outright, given his recession into the shadows.

 

[Westenra Mina]

Westenra slinked down the vast open corridors of the Senate, turning heads the way she had altered her flesh to make it seem like she was wearing a red cocktail dress. There had to be another assassin here. One relatively close by.

As she passed by one of the blue robed Senate Guards, he whispered into his encrypted com-link.

"Raider One to Silversmith Zero. Charity Case is not retired. Repeat, Charity Case is 'not' retired."

"Status of First Dealer?"

"Unknown. No confirmation signal."

"Switch to Backup. Contact when Case is retired. Over."

The "Guard" who had murdered the original owner of the robes began to ever so slightly follow the Android as she slinked into one of the interior resturants reserved for business magnates and dignitaries.

Westenra sat down, crossing long legs, and suddenly every eye occasionally slid to her. That wasn't the pheremones. She was simply that gorgeous. Every facet no matter the guise, designed to entice most humanoid or human-like species, all to make the lethality hidden under the skin easier to employ at close ranges, when it was too late to run.

The Assassin in the stolen gear approached, face hidden by the ceremonial black and blue helm, and stopped at the table she was sitting at. She looked up at him with a friendly smile.

"Excuse me, Miss Mina, I'm with Senate Security. There's been a problem reported with your security keycard, would you come to the front desk with me?"

"But of course." Westenra replied with a girlish chuckle, standing up.

As she followed him, she noticed he made a left down one corridor when he should have made a right. It was a corridor with no cameras.

"Where are we going?" Westenra asked.

"Me? I'm going to the Bank. You? To Hell."

He wheeled around with a silenced slugthrower, aimed at her head...and it was promptly knocked out of his hand as her fist crashed into his face plate so hard it cracked open. He stumbled backward, but Westenra kept pummeling him, swift, efficient blows directed mostly at his throat and chest. He toppled over, out cold after Westenra punched him so hard the helmet cracked open completely, revealing a bruised, battered Weequay face.

Westenra looked around, spotted a restroom and quickly dragged her would-be assassin into it.


Meanwhile...


Cern had not taken his eyes off the Zabrak in the tub.

The effect of Westenra's pheremones had gradually worn off on both of them. Cern kept the tranq pistol on him, while studying his disruptor by holding it up close while watching the Zabrak.

"Oh, you can't get this on an open market, no way. This chit here? This is military. Custom. Probably imperial. I've run into imperial stuff before. Sadistic bastards."

The Zabrak merely gave him a death glare, unable to reply due to being gagged.

Cern took a seat next to him on a closed toilet.

"I think you were strong willed enough to avoid giving her what she wanted. Not many triumph in an encounter with her, no matter her guise. So here is what I'm going to do for you...I'm gonna try and save you a lot of pain. We're gonna get you out of here, one way or another. You know what's gonna happen to you then? You're gonna get your ass marched to a giant spaceship called The Castle Morpheus. The Castle Morpheus is outside of GA territory. Constantly roaming the outer rim. Westenra's a nice woman but she knows when not to be. She's gonna dump your ass in the castle dungeon. And then this really athletic chiss lady is gonna walk in, smile at you, take out a knife, and start cutting off things until you remember something. No one will no where you are. But you can save yourself a lot of trouble by telling me who hired you."

Cern was bluffing. Westenra would never allow or permit his torture, and would have been horrified at the very notion of leaving him in her sister's hands. Besides, if The GA found out...the consequences would be disasterous...

But he was hoping The Zabrak didn't know that.

Cern pulled out the gag.

"Well...feel like spilling your guts?"

The Zabrak bit down on a false tooth, which contained a hidden signal device that transmitted to another in the grip of the pistol Cern held.

Cern's muscles locked up violently in agony as he clutched the disruptor against his will, the heavy electrical taser hidden in the grip sending him to partial paralysis as he barely managed to force his hand to work through the pain, stumbling out of the restroom, unable to work his legs and one arm, his whole world red tinged pain. His good hand grabbed the bedsheets where he had set the fake medpac...

The Zabrak used his tongue to hit a sensor within his mouth, implanted in his jaw.

His left big toe detached, revealing it to be a disguised mini-droid with a vibrorazor mount that grew metal legs, slowly and carefully cutting his bonds until he was free, Cern desperately trying to move as the Zabrak climbed out of the tub with a grin picking up the Tranq pistol, aiming and pulling the trigger.

The DNA lock on the grip prevented it from firing. He snarled and tossed it aside, grabbing his prey by the neck.

"You think you know pain? I instruct others. I am not the instructed. You will tell me how to kill her...or you suffer..." he hissed in Cern's partly paralyzed face.

A weak arm jammed a syringe with a red label on it. The first thing Cern could grab.

It wasn't tranquilizers. It was a lethal dose of pufferfish venom from Atrisia.

The Zabrak keeled over, unable to breath as he was paralyzed, gargling and spasming in pain before he died 007 minutes later.

"May the Westenra you killed rest in peace." Cern croaked weakly, paralysis only barely starting to wear off.

But now he had a problem.

The Zabrak was dead, he was paralyzed...

...and now there was a knock at the door...

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //
// OBJECTIVE // Beneath The Sadow Of Doom
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Auteme
Armor | Saber

N O _ O N E _ B E L I E V E S _ M E

He felt the darkness swelling up around the edge of his vision before it snuffed it out completely, enthralled to the holocron's influence over him as he breathed heavy breathes. Loske was right to contrast it to the similar position he'd been in when she'd read his memories of the battle on Muunilinst. Weak, alone and within a naked, cold and ugly vulnerability that came from near death. His vision returned to him when he began to view the durasteel paneled flooring beneath with his mortal eyes again. But he couldn't sense her.

Almost instinctively he sought her out in the force. Something to reach and grasp a hold of. That ever soothing presence she'd always brought him. He needed it now more than ever since he'd returned from the New Imperial front. But there was nothing. There was no intangible tether linking them with one another, he reached and grasped at open air until he could feel her arms around him, her reassuring embrace. Barely able to make out her words through the deafening sensory envelopment that the holocron's dark influence brought over him before it suddently faded into clear reality. With it, he could feel the bond between them stringing itself back together, if only in a faint and agonizingly slow process. Even if his connection of the force had been severed brutally it'd gone about recovery quickly. He was determined not to make the same mistake twice. With it, Loske's presence was one he clung unto desperately.

Abruptly, he threw his helmet from over his head and let it clatter along the floor as he dragged in a heavy breath of desperation. He felt just as he did when he was nearly struck low at war. Void of breath, weak and powerless. His gaze snapped to hers when she spoke, coherently for the first time. For a second it seemed to flash with the amber gaze of darkness before it faded into the hazel eyes she knew.

"I-..." He had to catch his breath before he dared attempt to speak again, slowly moving to reclaim his footing again before he felt lightheaded, collapsing back unto his knees. Reaching a hand up to grasp at her arm in an attempt to lift himself again. Hearing the clammor down the opposite corridor of what could only be the claws and talons of Rakghouls scaling a ship wall he reached a hand out in an attempt to pull his saber hilt toward him only to have it falter half away and clatter to the floor beneath.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Again. Was the sentiment that drew ebon shades around his cognition again. Doubt enveloped his soul again as he shed a tear in pained anguish, reaching out to try and pull his weapon again only to have it fall all the same. His connection had been severed...again. For how long? He couldn't tell but for now the weight of permanence seemed to sting his subconscious, residual bleeding through to Loske as their connection re-formed again.

 

[Auteme]

D O O M
Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt ​

So everything was bad.

First was the rather rude reminder of how not athletic she was. When she arrived at Loske's location she was out of breath just from running. Auteme personally thought she'd been running pretty fast, but compared to the stuff the other Jedi were pulling off she was still pretty far behind. The padawan paused at the doorway, looking inside at the two padawans on the floor of the tall chamber.

Auteme stepped carefully over the still-warm corpses of the rakghouls. Their wounds had been inflicted by a lightsaber -- Loske's, obviously, as Maynard seemed to be incapacitated. The red holocron on one side of the pedestal along with Maynard's helmet told her that he'd touched it and activated the trap. No... not quite. She must've mistranslated. A dark side web hadn't been activated, but he had been drained. Her rudimentary senses told her that the Holocron hadn't been activated. Maybe they'd gotten lucky...

No, there was enough other bad stuff. She could hear the rakghouls on their way to them and Loske was wounded. Auteme shouldn't have come to Foerost. Everything right now was bad. How could she fix things? Somebody else should've been here, like Allyson or Ryv. They could do something about this...

But they weren't there. She was. And she couldn't let her friends die.

There was a sort of rush that came with the action. For once the stress didn't drag her down or make her apathetic, it powered her to keep going even though she was tired. Auteme moved quickly to Maynard and Loske. She'd never used it before, but the Force fed her the idea. Force healing was the acceleration of recovery and healing of injuries. The same principle could be applied to stamina. The padawan placed her hand on Maynard's chest, her senses extending into the other Jedi. While she flowed freely, there were small knots in Maynard's energy, stopping him from moving. She drew his attention to the flow of blood in his body and wells of stamina that remained. She did her best to unblock what she could and give him strength enough to stand. "Maynard, I can help you, but you'll need to be able to walk. Can you do that for me?"

Auteme glanced to the far corridor, then reached into her bag and turned to Loske. "I'm sorry, I can't heal you right now, but," she said, drawing a small vial filled with a bubbling green liquid from her bag, "This serum should help stave off the disease long enough for us to get out of here." The increased blood flow from the fighting would likely accelerate Loske's transformation, so it was imperative that she take it. Auteme handed it to Loske.

Finally was the Holocron, the reason they'd come here. Auteme approached it and knelt to pick it up. When her fingers came too close the miniature pyramid shocked her, lashing out with a small bolt of lightning. She yelped and recoiled. It didn't hurt for more than a moment but she quickly realized she wouldn't be able to pick it up after trying again and receiving the same result.

"Loske, put the holocron in my bag, I can't pick it up." The rakghouls were getting closer and they needed to get out of here. It was terrifying, doing this sort of stuff. The adrenaline rushed and her heart rate was sky-high, even without having seen a living rakghoul yet. She could only hope she wouldn't see one. But first, Auteme opened her brown satchel and waited for Loske to put the holocron inside. Hopefully it'd work.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective II - Beneath the Sadow of Doom
Foerost // Outside of Hajibar // Downed Star Destroyer
JTSP // Maynard Treicolt // Auteme ​

That black hole where her lover usually existed was deep and impossible to explore. With his helmet off, and gaze snapping to hers she only felt one thing. Alarm. Gold overrun his gaze for a flash, and her unease plainly knotted across her face. “May..”

Rising and kneeling with him, Loske tried to mirror his movements to act as a strength to keep him standing. Between her needing to brace him while he tried to stand and the pitiful attempts to call his saber hither, her question was answered. The scale of the impact was still unspoken, and she expected the worst. Wan, she watched the measly interaction between the Knight and his sword. Her expression heavy with concern, she swallowed and clicked her teeth shut.

Like a toddler trying to braid its own hair, the link to him slowly and clumsily began to weave itself back together. It was distant and faint, but it was better than the blackened void.

She’d hesitated. She’d been apprehensive, afraid to step into the dark nucleus and Maynard defied fear. If she’d been braver this wouldn’t have happened. His strength would not have been guillotined. As a pilot, she knew hesitation was the invitation to disaster. This calcified that knowledge.

Calamitous though this was, they had to get out of here while they were still able. Auteme declaring that she could help Maynard flooded Loske with relief and appreciation. Once again bolstering her belief that there wasn’t one of them that could do any of this alone. And reinforcing Maynard’s absolution to her that they couldn’t leave their friends to do this fight alone.

Reluctantly breaking the touch with her partner, Loske moved away and kneeled to retrieve his saber from the ground. She could have easily called it to herself as he had tried to do, but it felt inappropriate. She was to support and empower, not add salt to wounds. Placing it firmly in his palm, she curled her fingers over his to ensure he gripped it and gave his cheek a soft, sad kiss and stepped away to let Auteme do her work. It was hard to remain focused, when all she wanted was to wrap him up in her arms and absorb all the pain he was in, all the doubt that saturated the bridge between them; but the luxury of time was not theirs.

Auteme’s reminder of the clawing on her thigh broke through her cloud of thought, and she reached out to take the vial, unable to mask her unappealed façade: “Thanks.” With a look of disgust, she gulped down the contents and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips snarling at the distaste. The effects were close to immediate, and the throbbing pain was mitigated to the same level she felt when a new bruise appeared. Right, the disease. Her mind wasn’t even close to there for herself.

The holocron didn’t seem to want to be touched. Auteme tried, Maynard tried, both resulted in disfavour from the ancient artifact. With a grimace, the blonde would-be kiffar obliged. Not wanting to touch it, she reached out for it in The Force. Startled, she couldn’t detect it. It was nothing but a gap of space, an absence, in the miasma of everything else. It swallowed the shadows and neutrality. Frowning, she did her best to navigate around it; to wrap it in an invisible pull that would navigate it to the opened bag of the academic Padawan. Delicately, she strung it along until it nestled into the pack. Then she picked up Maynard’s helmet, turning it over once in her hands with a heavy, remorseful sigh. This made it back to him too, pressed into the plating of his abdomen and resting her forehead against his for the briefest of instances. Auteme needed him to walk. Loske needed him to walk. Her free hand braced his shoulder, trying to give it a squeeze of reassurance through the plate. “You can do this.”

With her own whisper, she realized the entrancing murmurs of the scribbles had receded. They weren’t as loud as they had been. The pulsing of the walls had stopped, and the glow of the room faded almost entirely. The only thing impressive about it now, was its size.

“We’ve got to go.” She stated plainly, entrusting her counterpart to the support of Auteme. “I’ll go ahead of you both and try and clear a path>. As she spoke, the nanoparticles of her suit formed together to reconstruct her helmet. The HUD glowed with readings of their surroundings. The sound of claws and heavy, running mutations amplified with the countdown of approaching threats in red in her view. She made a gesture near her temple to try and adjust the view that displayed in front of her eyes. A topographical rendering augmented her reality in neon lines, tracing their location to where they wanted or needed to be.

The Padawan opened her comms again to those still on board the ship: Ryv Camo Orerig Barr Vexos and Aldric <Holocron is secured. Can someone set this rig to blow? There're too many Rakghouls to preserve it.
We’re en route to rendezvous point. We uh ––> glancing down at her leg, and over at Maynard and Auteme < -- Could use a medic when we get there.>

Cutting through the walls and kicking their way out wasn’t an option. This ship had been made to last and withstand aerial battles; it wasn’t so flimsy to be conquered by molten sword and sheer will. A route calculated it’s way over her eyes and she locked in on it; several red bogies plotting along the path. She counted ten to start, and she felt a weight of anxiousness grip her. She was tired and wounded, but she’d make this happen. She had to. Auteme and Maynard had done their part for the mission, and they’d continue to, she couldn’t elect to run the other direction.

<Let’s go.>

It was more a statement for herself, than for them. Urgency infringed on her tone and she marched forward, taking the lead through the hallway they’d come down to get to the tomb. So far, there were no creatures in the hallway; but her senses and technology suggested that with the first right turn they’d need to make to retrace their steps, they’d meet the first few instantly.

Gathering the invisible energy about her hand, she prepared to emit an explosive barrier and drive the creatures over the catwalk’s edge.