The Sacking of Coruscant

[Ashin Varanin]

Location: Prison, entering E Wing
Objective: C
Allies: [member="Spencer Jacobs"], providing remote pwr
Enemies: [member="Raziel"], [member="The Hound"]

Board-scale precognitive prescience was not Ashin's strong point. Neither was telepathic receptivity. Her only warning that something could go seriously wrong in E Wing came from a more reliable ally: common sense. For one thing, at least one powerful Darksider was still out there, potentially behind her.

For another, the fething door was open.

She considered her options, and they weren't many. Her first instinct was to walk right in, maximize her Force defenses, and try to outlast whatever came her way. But a room that size could hold a lot of unpleasantness, and the One Sith were known to use ysalamiri and Vong slayers en masse. Even if she, Spencer, and the Kaiburr Crystal had finally worked out how to overcome ysalamiri, that wasn't something she could pull off while tanking explosives or sustained fire. And more to the point, even if she managed to beat everything the room threw at her, she might be left too weak to withstand the Darksiders.

Like a mechanic cracking open a rusty drawer at the bottom of her toolbox, she ran through the mental patterns she'd learned in her years as the keeper of Darth Vectivus' holocron and legacy. Vectivus was one of the few historical Sith whose ideas Ashin genuinely admired, right up there with Lumiya, Vergere, and Calypho. His holocron, now in Dissero's care, contained exactly one technique. Still outside of E Wing, she took stock of the nearest visible security cameras and situated herself in what looked like a blind spot.

One of the nearest prisoners in E Wing slumped to the floor and began to snore. Just one, though. A short while later, Ashin Varanin -- perfectly lifelike, complete Force presence in place, brandishing a burnt-orange lightsabre -- walked into E-Wing. The real Ashin remained outside, Force presence still dampened. This technique was taxing, designed to be used near a Force nexus, but it had also been designed for interstellar distances. A doppelganger-style Force Phantom manifestation wasn't terribly hard to pull off at this range, no matter how rusty she was.

A nimbus of blue-green distortion fuzzed the air around the doppelganger. Force Phantoms responded to damage in strange way so far as illusion-ish techniques went. She'd have to think fast to compensate.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Location: In Front of the Temple
Objective: Survive
Allies: [member="Nyte Ignis"]
Enemies: [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]


Xavka grunted as he landed hard a few paces behind the female, slightly annoyed that his burst of lightning had done nothing more than be a slight nuisance to the Jedi. However, that annoyance was soon replaced by a surge of panic as the Force whispered within his mind, alerting him to the danger that was coming.

Channelling the Force into his body to increase speed and strength, Xavka span around sharply, robes billowing out behind him at the suddenness and speed of his movement, bringing his sword down to meet the lightsaber, the Force creating an almost visible aura around the metal blade signifying the usage of Force Weapon so as to make his sword able to resist the energy of a lightsaber and blaster bolts.

Despite the speed at which he had moved the sharp, burning pain as heated plasma dug into his skin and muscle flared like a wild fire within his brain as the lightsaber of the Jedi bit into his leg. However, Xavka managed to prevent himself from losing another limb as he intercepted the slicing attack with his sword, the sudden physical bloke halting the advancement of the weapon. He had managed to act before his leg had been severed, instead pausing the strike just before the point where Xavka's knowledge indicated that bone would have been cut into but that meant that the lightsaber was still within his leg, causing a constant wave of pain to run through his nervous system.

The constant pain caused his focus to waver for a moment, but a moment was all it took for the lightsaber to sink into bone while slicing through the sword, sending the tip clattering to the ground as Xavka instinctively jumped back, once again being lucky enough to not lose his leg.

Landing, Xavka dropped to one knee, his leg giving beneath him. The only thing Xavka was tankful about was that the lightsaber also served to cauterise the injury, preventing him from dying from blood loss or infection. However, that now meant he would be fighting from that position.

Channelling all of his anger, his rage and pain through his body, a miasma of Dark Side energy gathered around his hands. With a scream of pure, unrestrained, feral furiousity, large streams of lightning surged from his hands, being fuelled by the miasma. Where lightning arced into the ground it was burnt away, bubbling from the intense heat as the plasma cut through the air towards the Jedi, hissing and spitting.

Xavka held the attack, pouring every turbulent emotion he held within him at that moment into the streams of Lightning. Even as chaos erupted around him as salvo after salvo of shots slammed into the Temple the Sith were defending, shots from turrets that were meant to be under Sith control, Xavka held the attack his mind lost inn a haze of anger over the fact that he may have to lose the injured leg if it was not seen to soon, as while he had prevented the severing of it, the depth of the injury may make it impossible to heal.

 

[Jakkar]

Location: In the middle of the Space Battle.
Objective: Show his Loyalty
Allies: The Sith
Enemies: The Jedi
____________________________________________________________________
"Get us out of here!" Jakkar roared at the incompotent Droid as the starship battle continued. The useless droid just started sputtering out some useless apoligies and got clumsier and clumsier. The old ship's limited maneuverability combined with the generic slowness of the protocol droid was destined to fail, and they were immidietly noticed by the fighters. [OC: Due to the continued absence of the fleet writers i must do this] And a moderate amount of fire was drawn to the old ship. The old ships outdated shields could not absorb the fire and the sounds of critical damage filled the whole ship.

No! I will not die now! He vowed to himself and looked at the useless droid, who was running around the ship, repeadetly shouting "I dont want do die!" And the ship was left pilotless. He took in a sharp breath. He hated flying a ship, even his father didn't let him after he almost crashed this particular ship to the docking bay near the planet Tython.

Jakkar calmed himself down and went to the ships controls he was sure that this battle was forcing gim to pick a side, his father had told about the factions as he had known it. Life at isolation didn't help being in the loop of course but there is always maps. The marks on the attacking ships looked like it belonged to 'Jedi Sympathizers' as his father liked to call them. And Jakkar had a really good idea of what to think of the Jedi.

The Self-Righteous so called heroes who didn't permit emotions on their people.

His father had told him all he new about the jedi, by extension The Sith, he had told him that he himself had supported the Sith's ways but told Jakkar that he was free to support which one he wanted to support.

He had chosen the Sith.

And Jakkar only saw one way to express his loyalty.

He directed the crashing ship to a more suitable crash site. Or for those that want a more detailed explanation, into the middle of the battlefield itself. Where the Jedi were.

The ship fell down to the planets surface, all the while gaining massive amounts of speed, the starfighters that were chasing them had long lost interest, believing them already dead. He increased the speed as much as he could and focused, focused for the same power he had displayed when the wretched pirates killed his family. To protect him, so he could avenge parents. But just as he was thinking about the pirates, a massive hatred filled him, like all the times he thought about the wretched pirates. It filled him, empowered him. Made what was impossible, possible.

A strong, glowing purple aura surrounded him.

Protected him...

Just as well... The ship came crashing down into the middle of the battlefield. And he lost consciousness.
[OC: He's not dead...]

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Beside the temple’s ruined door, in a hole in the ground.
Objective A
Mission: Get Up!
Allies: [member="Jakkar"]
Enemies Specifically: [member="Evan Kenner"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"] | [member="Jericho"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Ebony Blackheart"] and anyone entering.
NPCs: Two Large Massassi Sith Spawn, 2/6 Sun Guard
Background NPCs: Remaining Temple Guard, AA Guns (Shooting at friendlies), Shield Generator (Offline).

[member="Ebony Blackheart"]

From behind their smoking comrade the remaining two Echani moved as one, trained as a single unit since birth. The golden armored elite did not underestimate her now, taking cover opposite sides to split her focus and burning the air around her in scything hot flame, one even readied an electroshock net for capture, firing it toward the woman, a certain vengeance in the sith cultists eyes for their fallen battlesister. While fresher troopers from [member="Darth Hauntruss"] 's vanguard's were reaching the temple grounds now to reinforce, and come in behind the enemy, their pincer movement complete.

[member="Jericho"]

Earth shook as he and his saber met someone of strength and experience, though the others such as [member="Evan Kenner"], [member="Kira Vaal"] and [member="Tiland Kortun"] had shown spirit and potential, [member="Jericho"] was that potential honed and realised. Raien’s armor was built for flexibility and lightsaber rotations, more than heavier defense, the Jedi Master's deeper force connection meant he was quicker in his jump, but it meant Raien was turning to meet him all the same as he landed.

A clash of blades outward to hold Jericho's weapon, angled downward, much like his descent as the ground opened up to claim his stance, utterly taken from him. Colliding with the floor, pain and experience threw a thick force bubble against the first white hot flame, scorching around him. Pushing, holding fast against the energies, its crimson translucent hue cracked and pressed against the second flaming attack, with only the edge of the Master's torment penetrating the Knight's shield, to melt and burn his metal glove. The wound was agonizing, and the pain remembered as one more lesson upon the many.

[member="Jakkar"]

Climbing one handed to pull his heavier form up out of his earthy pit, he leapt to the ground landing heavily to one knee, the wounds across his body clearly evident, either bleeding or still hissing painfully. Just as the Jedi had rained orbital fire down on the temple, now the Sith did the same with machinery. The exploding ship cascaded debris between him and the fleeing targets, incinerating a rushing group of alliance troopers that had sort to finally take the ruined door. The blockage infuriated the Sith Knight. It was somewhat lucky for Jakkar because whatever rubble had fallen on him was likely thrown aside from the advancing form of Darth Surtr, his heavy footed approach closed in vain to track [member="Jericho"]'s swift departure, the acolytes form instead concentrated on, to hopefully pull Jakkar up out of the rubble in the force and bring him to rest on the ground.

“Bring me their wounded, and their dying.” The Betrayer commanded to the Massassi by his side, he would have use of them later, they had yet to even understand the meaning of regret. With their numbers the alliance could have ended him here, instead they'd given him all the cause he needed to become the Raien of old, a mistake.

In the middle of the chaos, and ruin, looking down to the body of someone willing to give everything to smite his enemies for what he believed, the Betrayer extended his full, often painful attentions. [member="Jakkar"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iej6oP7C_TQ​

 

[Relit Vandal]

Location: Taking on some craziness
Objective: A
Allies: Galactic Alliance, [member="Ryn'Dhal"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Cynthia"]
Enemies: The Sith, [member="Darth Ayra"]
Equipment: in Bio

A mistake, one made on the part of the Sith Lord. To interpret a single gesture at weakness, when it was merely resolve and mercy. When his words were spoken, he wanted to see her kneel down, lower her force power, and accept the necessity of her arrest. But uttering the word pathetic and continuing down her path, it might as well have been the chime of the clock tower, preceding the quick draws accurate fire. As much as he wanted to follow his own personal code, he put the livelihood of the universe above his morals. Especially in such circumstances.

As soon as she spoke the word, he rushed forward with training focused on the etiquette and finesse of saber combat. A downed opponent was at a disadvantage and while his connection to the force was prominent, his wielding of the blade was even more entrancing. And as he neared, she would attempt the force once more, draining, and he wouldn't feel the effects until the downward swing of his saber, attempting to strike across her body, from her left shoulder to her right hip.

If force drain was going to work on him, it should be done so without words to herald it's inclement attack. And while he may have broken the rule of speaking during combat, he did so for his own conscious. The Sith, she should have known better, obviously not weighed down by such formal and mental shackles. At least, he imagined that's how they would view them. But it was never a bad thing to value life, in whatever form it came. But as the standing dead goes to seed, one must always appreciate that death and life go hand in hand. And this Sith Lord needed to be put down, for the safety of those around him.

 

[Chevu Visz]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the Sith Temple
Allies: @Galactic Alliance
Enemies: [member="Darth Vizios"]

As the battle raged around him, Chevu could feel him behind her, a wave of the darkside about to crash. She would not let her soldiers fall to his blades. “Go!” she shouted, then whirled on her heel. Little did she know that the clap of their boots on the temple floor would be the last sounds she would ever hear from them. The Jedi Knight’s humming blue blade, extended defensively across her body, cut twin swaths of blue across her dark eyes.

“You talk of mercy” she said, with a shaking voice, emotions just barely controlled. “But you tried to enslave me once. You claimed to want to free me, but I have learned not to trust any words of the Sith.”

Dark memories flashed through her mind. She was clad in rags, crouched in the corner of a cage, one that delivered jolting shocks of electricity to her body, rendering her speechless. Helpless. Her gaze panned to his hands, empty of his duel blades. Why did he extinguish them? And should she strike first as Coren Starchaser would, or wait and only attack in self-defense, like Master Oomomo?

“What the hell did you want from me that day, and what the hell you want from me now?"

 

[Jakkar]

Location: In the Middle of a smoking hole!
Objective: Wake up!
Allies: The Sith
Enemies: The Jedi

Jakkar woke up on the asteroid-cottage he had called home since his birth. He realized then, it had been a dream, a dream where his family had been killed by pirates and him smiting them all with some power then forcing a useless Protocol Droid to fly his fathers ship to Coruscant where a huge battle was taking place. And then crashing the old rust-bucket Rigger Ship into the middle of a battlefield.

"Jak! Come over here. Supper's ready." He heard his little sister (and favorite sibling) Jeaneis call over from outside, it was one of those days then. His father had gathered enough of his strength to enjoy a meal outside the cramped dining room.

"Coming up!" He shouted back and streched while yawning. And left his little room, going outside. It was always cold on the habitated asteroid but this day it seemed a warm. Warmer then necessary actually...

He disregarded the unusual notion and continued on. Only to live the worst moment of his life all over again.

His family, all kneeling down on the ground, pirates standing over them, with blasters pointed at their heads.

3

2

1

BAM!
__________________________
Jakkar shot up from where he was lying with a roar of grief and fear, ignoring the pain that had exploded on his leg. His voice rang through the battlefield. It was all real... He thought with a wave of grief but the hot embrace of rage and hatred surrounded him again shortly after. He wanted to kill something, all of his senses lit up with the urge to do it.

It would be Justice.

When he regained some focus, his gaze met up with that of [member="Raien Keth"] 's, the silver eyes of his immidetly boring into him like it was seeing something more then his face, his thoughts and emotins too. He watched and just nodded briefly gesturing over to some a trooper squad near him, all of them immidetly saluting and moving closer to Jakkar.

The heavily-scarred man than gestured to somone else, who threw at him what looked like a warspear, which was extended to him. Jakkar accepted the weapon and was almost at the point exploding with anger and excitement. He had a faint idea of who the men could be and of course, like all of his assumptions, (a man can have some self-confidence when he was the smartest man on where he lives) He was right. The man was Sith, who was telling him to kill his enemies.

Enacting Justice. His fathers Justice.

He turned to the fray and with a roar, he let the berserker loose and started rampaging through the temples door his military escorts running behind him as fast as they could.

Because of the training given to him by his father, nothing stood in his path, the unfortunate alliance soldiers who had maken the mistake of coming near him, started falling one by one.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

The Battlefield in front of the Temple
[member="Raien Keth"] [member="Jakkar"]
[member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Relit Vandal"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Evan Kenner"] [member="Jericho"] [member="Kira Vaal"]

Tiland slumped down behind cover in the battlefield, which suddenly became even more chaotic as [member="Darth Hauntruss"]' troops moved in and other Alliance troops deployed outside the perimeter or moved in from the surrounding areas, moving from cover to cover, utilizing cover to lay down fire on enemy troops and Sith. A few rushed the door, but most chose to remain in cover. He was so tried. So much death tearing him apart, letting the Anazat instincts spill out. So many soups to desire, and so many powerful ones. Would it be worthwhile for him to slice his slits open and attempt to devour the Sith? To take a life in order to save lives? In such a way? It was tempting and his body yearned for that consumption, to taste the sweetness of a being's soul. And such powerful souls that stood here.

No.

There were ways to resolve this conflict without betraying himself and falling to the base nature. He was better than that. He was a Jedi, of some form or another, and he would forever stand in defense of those who could not defend themselves and bring healing where he could. He curled up as another spasm of pain shot through his abdomen and anger flared at the edges of his mind. He took a deep breath, letting the emotions slip away again.

Bring me their wounded and their dying.

Tiland craned his head to look over at Raien again as he caught the words to the massive warrior. That was unacceptable, as it would likely not involve proper medical care from healers of either side. Tiland took another deep breath, focusing his attention inwards to his injury, sending the Force through it to knit it together some more. Then he hefted his staff and stuck it into the ground, pulling himself up afterwards. He wavered but stomped towards the Sithspawn, thinking as fast as he could. It would be interesting to attempt to physically disable such a foe, but he had neither the strength nor time to attempt such a feat. Not now, at least.

He would have to use his telepathy. The thought filled him with nauseating guilt. Nothing was worse than invading another's mind the way his telepathic abilities did, battering into one's thoughts and placing his own inside their brain, manipulating as he did so. But perhaps such an ability could be used for good.

He paused as another combatant entered the fray after a ship crashed into the ground, showering the battlefield with debris. He was a youth bursting with pain and rage, driving himself towards the Alliance forces. Perhaps he could do something there. He reached out with his mind, probing towards the youth and recoiled at the emotions surging through him. So much anger. So much pain. Something in Tiland broke and he gave a small, sad smile before launching an attack, if one would call it that.

It was a simple technique. One so unassuming and unsophisticated that he had never even heard of it having a name. It was a simple surge of the Force directed at one individual on an emotional level. Nothing drastic. Just a soothing, calming effect to bring peace and healing. He poured that towards [member="Jakkar"], wishing he would find the peace needed to heal from his hurts. Nobody deserved to ache in such a way, although the cause was convoluted. Family, death, murder, justice. He added a message.
You don't need anger to bring justice to the galaxy.

Then he pulled back, turning back towards the Sith spawn. He straightened himself and gathered his voice, working on how to underlie his words with telepathic messages. He wasn't good enough at the Force for a mind trick or an illusion, so he focused instead of mentally inserting the idea as well.

"You shall not lay hand upon injured or dying. I will not allow it." While the Sithspawn towered over him, Tiland stood erect, shoulders back and staff planted firmly. By the Force, did it hurt. Though perhaps the best thing to try was to cool the fire in those who kept it burning the hottest.

Like the one he faced in front of the doorway. That would be a challenge, especially facing a massive warrior with a vibrating axe. His poor walking staff would have trouble surviving that, especially having already cracked in some places. He'd have to be quick as well, changing his mental focus to [member="Raien Keth"]. It would be far more difficult this time, as this warrior was far more self-controlled and deliberate in his actions.

He gathered himself in the Force once more, letting it flow into himself and clear his mind. It would take more than he probably had to make a difference, but he sank into the serenity of the Light and pushed it towards the figure, as best as he could, trying to pour everything positive he had towards that one person. He had no idea how accurate it would be, or if it would just go right by, doing nothing, or impacting the soldiers around them.

But for now, he had a giant axe to worry about.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Objective: Defend the Sith Temple
Location: Courtyard
[member="Xavka Duquo"] [member="Nyte Ignis"]
[member="Aela Talith"]

Had the Sith attempted such a tricks months ago he almost certainly would have crumbled. [member="Athena Heron"] had used similar trickery to blind him during one of the many One Sith victories he had failed to prevent. That vile intrusion into his psyche had left him unnerved and feeling vulnerable. Since that time he had spent several sessions working on techniques to reinforce his mental barriers against such trickery in that hope that he would not be violated in that manner again.

In his mind he pictured his fortress constructed of diamond bricks. The intrusion was a dark red glow flaring against the outer reaches of his mind. Small cracks appeared and as each one stretched out that dark light filtered through the opening.

Externally he settled into a simple defensive routine. Great masters such as Shule Windspeaker and Alen Ne’Varro had honed his technique with the blade. He flowed between different forms, never wasting any effort.

My squad. He pictured the dead on Sullust. He missed a parry. The tip of her sith sword effortlessly cut through the chest plate of his armour, drawing a thin red streak. A bright blue flash brought him from his reverie as Aela was targeted by a torrent of lightening.

“No!” he grunted out loud. “Keeping them safe, means putting you down.” He wouldn’t let his allies down. Not again. Not as he had before.

His right leg arced back and around, never leaving the ground. He dropped his weight back and down, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to explode. He blocked the next strike and then in one smooth motion he stepped back and swung his saber from low to high. The swing came with enough power to overcome the momentum disadvantage of colliding with a sith sword, swift and strong. If she attempted to block with a Makashi grip she would be losing a blade.

This wasn’t to set up another strike, instead he had merely been attempting to put some space between them. His Occluder handcannon came from his belt to his left hand as he arm swung out towards the male sith.

He eschewed the counter on Nyte, to instead turn the weapon on Xavka’s exposed back. His telepathic warning to Aela was wordless, but he sent his intent to her. The weapon was fixed on stun; non-lethal intent was a good way to dampen any precognitive warnings of danger. Jacen didn’t even look at his target, his arm came out and fired guided only by the Force.

The blue bolt separated out into sixteen smaller boltlettes an started to spread. At this range any of those would cause spasms and weakness. The whole shot would put a Gundark down. Jacen’s eyes stayed on Nyte, as his golden blade was kept at chest height between them, putting her at a distance where that dagger could not come into play for a strike at his torso.

He had a notion how she might react. Her mate was prone, wounded and vulnerable. Previously he had put himself at great risk to get between Jacen and the female sith unnecessarily. If she did the same, if she went out of her way to stop him from firing the blaster a second time, he would take advantage and strike him at her midriff with his golden blade.

That insidious connection to his mind was still there. Stand down, he called back. Leave with your partner and neither will come to harm. Rubble reigned down around them and a dust cloud swirled towards them as the Temple structure started to collapse under the bombardment.

Would she risk herself to save her vulnerable mate, giving him the opening he needed? Would she back down rather than risk them both for a crumbling ruin? Or would she come at him and leave Xavka to his fate?

 

[Judah Lesan]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the Sith Temple
Allies: @OS
Enemies: [member="Chevu Visz"]

"You are really going to try and test my offer," Xander questioned, almost scolding the Mirialan. "I tried to buy your freedom, to train you, to help you discover your gift with the force."

The Sith Lord still had not drawn his blades despite the fact twin sapphire blades were now trained on him should he attack. This was not a very good start to their meeting. If she did not believe him, then this would not end pretty. Should the Knight choose to attack, Xander would have no choice but ensure he walked out alive. It was simple. There were no hard feelings toward her caution, but Xander was not going to end up dead because of her lack of trust. Could he blame her? Xander had never trusted the Sith either.

"I may have also found you very attractive," he said taking a step closer to her. "I've always been attracted to what I consider to be exotic, and you remind of someone I knew a long time ago. My intent was never to ensalve you. While I have employed the services of servants, and the like, I do not believe in slavery."

Xander stopped. He ensured there was plenty of distance still between him and her sabers. Though if she did lash out at him, and strike him down, Xander would have succeeded in making her taste the dark side of the force. Could he persuade her to join him? That all depended on how tight of a hold she had on her master, how loyal she was to the light.

"I want nothing more from you today than I did then. The only exception is I can't let you succeed in destroying the temple, or raiding it, or whatever it is you are here to do. Now why don't you put your lightsabers away, and let's be civil about this. I am certain you don't want to engage in a duel with a Sith Lord, and master assassin. If I wanted you dead, you would be. I know that sounds so cliche, and is well overused, but it is the truth."

 

[Raien Keth]

Location: Beside the rubble.
Objective A
Mission: You keep what you kill.
Allies: [member="Jakkar"]
Enemies Specifically: [member="Tiland Kortun"]
NPCs: Two Large Massassi Sith Spawn, 2/6 Sun Guard
Background NPCs: Remaining Temple Guard, AA Guns (Shooting at friendlies), Shield Generator (Offline).

[member="Tiland Kortun"]

No words. Raien recognized deadly power in being able to neutralise conflict, his life had revolved around encouraging it to suit his own vision of perfection in the force, and also balancing between the great powers. The Massassai Sith spawn was not always a Sith spawn, the Massassi were once proud warriors of the ancient Sith empires gone by. The guilt and hesitation was not in killing his enemies, it was in the method he was being commanded to fetch and carry like a slave. Krayt’s tomb guardian considering he was better than this and so paused.

Till a beam erupted through the chest of the red giant, black mist following it, the expression on its face utter shock.

Not casually done, it was a great sacrifice, history past and purpose, things that made the armored form of Krayt's past what he was, were being cut down in that act. Sacrifice to gain as always. Tiland’s mental focus on Raien was something [member="Serian Loria"] would have been proud of, because he finally faced the ground on which Raien stood, his past.

As the new wounds became one with the armor, light seeped around old wounds, to push them to the forefront of the minds of perhaps both men, Tiland might see a young Echani boy Raien decades ago leaving his home for all the right reasons, studying with Jedi, he might see the corruption of the Sith Sphere, he might see Masked Dark Jedi manipulation, then children take from him, the burning of his homeworld, and eventually only Raien’s armored form looking back at him, motionless. He was far far too late, wasn’t he?

Force Shockwave

[member="Jakkar"] ‘s

Battlecries from beside them pulled Raien from the healer's technique, there was a war left to see done. A shockwave was cast toward [member="Tiland Kortun"], a slow and then fast rush of energies, two force pushes catching up and impacting each other in front of Tiland, breaking rubbled temple stone and throwing fragments outward in all directions.

~Become that which they fear.~ Raien commanded [member="Jakkar"] through the force, where the Massassi had failed him, this young apprentice might succeed, ~use the emotion, embody it and rise above what they can understand to be possible.~ Sith were not stronger than Jedi, they were instead the pinnacle and final act of all force user’s potential, nothing held back. ~Bring me their dying, have your vengeance on them in this life, and the next.~ Picking up one bleeding jedi body below him, he threw it towards the pile that would be built, the Knight was tiring, injured, and most especially he had no more time for the games of long dead healers or their kin.

It was time to build the army from the wounds of others, they would face their own and know their worst fears.

 

[Raziel]

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

Jarven Drex rocked back and forth in his small cell, his arms wrapped around his knees. They didn’t understand him, never understood what he had done. To this day he still felt nothing but confusion at the way the girl’s parents had looked at him with that mix of fear, disgust and hatred. Why couldn’t they understand that he had important work to carry out? Each masterpiece was an important part of the journey. The man in black understood. Jarven knew the man in black believed in his work and was going to give him one last chance.

As the avatar of Ashin’s focus stepped into E Wing, the heavy set doors slammed home. The tannoy system crackled to life. “Your executioners have arrived,” the voice called. “They don’t understand you. They’re going to kill you. But there is one last chance for redemption. Take up arms and secure your freedom. If you kill them, you will be set free. They are bad people,” he echoed the trigger word, carefully implanted into each of the twenty inmates in the wing. There was a great crash as all the doors swung open together. Four never even left their cells, their minds too far gone to follow even simple instruction. Yet within moments the air would be filled with blaster fire.

Back in the control room Raziel slid down the microphone and returned to his work. All the pistols were now in pieces, ready for him to construct his hasty weapon. When Ashin managed to proceed from E Wing she would have a short trip to reach the security check point. There she would find two guards waiting. At the far end of the checkpoint, one security door had been removed, leaving a wire mesh hanging from the ceiling. At that point, Raziel would make his second gambit of three.

 

[Nyte Ignis]

Objective: Get out of the way you idiots!

Location: The Exploding Courtyard

Allies: One Injured [member="Xavka Duquo"]

Enemies: A Cocky [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] and a Bold [member="Aela Talith"]



Nyte stared at the blade that was pointed at her chest. Now was the time for inaction. But as she guessed correctly he assumed that she had the same bond to Xavka, that her love to him would overdrive the need to battle. Oh how very little this Jedi knew of Echani culture.

She was born in the arena, the battle lust driven deep inside of her. There was no place for her to question the natural fighting instinct that swirled in her mind. The doubts that she had about not being compatible to Xavka was pushed from her mind. The tai'shan would have forced her hand, but here, her own will held strong to fight the Jedi.

She focused some strength into building a small Force barrier on her hand as she moved quickly, her hand shoving the blade away from her chest as she came into his space, the blade skimming along her side but that she could ignore for now. Her dagger came out against his hand hard, hopefully enough to get him to back off as her leg swept up under him to topple him away, getting free from him.

"This is certainly not over Jedi."

Then she Force Pushed him away, powering herself towards Xavka as he made his actions, grabbing him and placing him against the wall at the far end of the courtyard. She straddled his waist, staring down at him, her black eyes finding his own as she gathered the rest of her strength to place a Force Barrier up once again to protect them from the massive damage done as the temple exploded. She let it drop after the initial explosion and aftershock, rubble falling around them as her eyesight began to fade, collapsing on top of Xavka, remaining with him.

 

[Jakkar]

Location: In the heat of the fighting beside the door.
Objective: Collect the dying.
Allies: The Sith
Enemies: The Alliance

Jakkar had not stopped his frenzy, nothing stood in his path he cut down everyone carrying their wretched mark. It was easy to think this as justice for him, he was defending what he was now calling his home. And homes were built by the blood of the people who lived there.

And strengthened by the blood of its intruders.

He swung the long warspear at the legs of an unfortunate alliance trooper who made the mistake of coming at him. The blade of the spear become embedded on his leg and the injured trooper cried out in pain. Jakkar then retracted the blade from the near-off leg and stabbed the trooper right across the chest. And suddenly, he was overcome with a distant feeling he was now close to forgetting. Peace and healing.

He left the spear where it was embedded, ignoring a sound which clearly indicated somone was talking him, shocked, but then started laughing maniacally.

This was his destiny!

Avenging his family through justice. Only then, he would find peace.

He grapped the warspear again and continued his fighting this time with much more fervor, he dug into a makeshift trench of alliance soldiers, his diminished escort of Sith troopersfanatically chasing him and protecting him from the incompotent alliance troopers. The squadron had done their bit of the considerable damage and even come to respect Jakkar whom they seen fighting for their cause without any question. They quickly dismantled the makeshift trench in mere minutes, sending the alliance soldiers corpses sprawling through the little trench. There was even a Jedi among the kills. He had been a tough one to kill, they had only managed to defeat him when there was ropes tying (those troopers were good) both of his hands and at the end of Jakkars spear.

Suddenly a voice boomed through his mind "Become that which they fear!" Done! He though amusedly, the cowardly alliance soldiers had started running from him and his little squadron. "Use the emotion, embody it and rise above what they can understand to be possible!" The voice in his mind continued, he turned to the sith lord questioningly, the silver eyes of the sith lord bore into him and he nodded. It was him, the voice! And he was guiding him through the battle.

Jakkar took in a deep breath and reached out to his emotions, his pride for proper service, his hate for the unjust world, his anger for not saving his family from the wretched pirates that had killed them. He gathered all of this emotions and surged them through his body. Then with a deafening roar he violently forced out them to the surface, wishing for an outcome.

And it even suprised him...

Air rippled, sending waves through the plain air. And everything within the range of the ripples vicinity flinged backwards, objects landed atop troopers, troopers fell backwards, trenches destroyed, men disarmed. His diminished squadron however was still standing, they had found themselves ledges to grab on. He looked at his unarmed hand, shocked with this new found ability.

He didn't have enough time to think on it however because the Sith lorde spoke to him again "Bring me their dying, have your vengeance on them in this life, and the next." He nodded to himself, and looked at the damage he had caused.

"GATHER THE BODIES. YOUR SITH LORD COMMANDS IT!" He ordered the squadron and they scrambled off to obey. But he did not fallow them. Somone had to distract the others.

And He still had more to fight...

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myEOJaNMQZo​

With another planet broken, it was time to come home.

Home away from home. Details. The important part was the arrival, not so much the nature of her affinity for the world in question. She didn't care, and she had an inkling that nobody with half a brain lingering in the vicinity of Coruscant would linger quite long enough to ask.

That was, of course, assuming that she had any intention to hail them in the first place.

There would be no warning, no signal, not even a hint of the impending doom rushing through hyperspace towards the Galactic core. But that's what you get for skipping the baby steps and going straight for the kill. It was a bold move, sure. Well-timed, too, and as a warrior and warmonger, the woman would commend whoever had organized this attack.

Well, commend their dead corpse, at least.

Because there was no way in Netherworld that they would live long enough to reap the benefits of their actions. The Jewel was massive, armed to the teeth, and encircled by multiple layers of defense. They had struck a blow if the reports were accurate, and they almost always were, but the One Sith were bound to retaliate, and like true subscribers to the principles of violent conflict resolution, they would retaliate with a fist.

Or a Hand. Same difference.

Point was, she was here, and so was a very, very numerous bunch of ships. Par av Mor Adone, which was nothing to scoff at in and of itself, was still dwarfed by the array of various vessels that dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant. Veritable hundreds, black against the black backdrop of space — no ominous blotting-out of the sun to be had, alas — come to drive the troublemakers out of the Dark Lord’s backyard. The kids had been allowed their share of fun in the sandbox, but it was time to send them home, and Vrag would not hesitate to utilize force in doing so.

In the event that any shreds of doubt still remained, they would be erased in the blink of an eye, for that was how long it would take the Sith to fire. No questions asked.

The bastards.

You see, sometimes you just had to… assume control and double down. [member="Darth Carach"] would hardly mind, the karker enjoyed it anyway. As for the rest… well. They were welcome to bring up their grievances with the Hand after the fact, but at the moment, the woman in question was far too busy coordinating the troops preparing for planetside deployment. And the war fleets? Oh, fret not. Those were being handled by the High admirals, because Force knew that Vrag hated space and space hated her right back, and she was quite old enough to admit that she couldn't wage war with ships to save her life.

Jests aside, however, the fleets were here, and they wouldn't rest until they'd reduced the enemy to smoldering smithereens. They would also settle for sending them flying with their proverbial tails between their legs.

Whichever happened first.

Spoiler

Will provide fleet length and ship specs if prompted, but this is meant more as a plot device. There's at least two Sector War fleets here, and those are each upwards of a hundred ships. Happy to work with y'all fleeters, in any case. Cheers!

[member="Friedrich Stahlmann"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | @GA in space​

 

[Six-O]

Location: Between Sith Temple and Defense Control Station
Objective: Stave Progress of GA Reinforcing the Temple Assault
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: [member="Trask"] | GA
Equipment: All on-board profile weaponry. DLT-20A Blaster Rifle, SWE/2 Sonic Rifle, DT-57 Blaster Pistols, "Butcher" Vibroblade
Status of Equipement: On-Board Concussion Grenade Launcher (Empty), On-Board Flamethrower (Half Fuel-Capacity), DLT-20A Blaster Rifle (1 Gas Cartridge), SWE/2 Sonic Rifle (Full Capacity, no additional power pack), DT-57 Blaster Pistols (Two power packs, two gas cartridges)

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stImV0RomL4[/youtube]

Explosive death rained from a blackened sky. Falling on broken sheds, ravaged factory spaces -- civilian homes all the same. No one spared, no pity offered. It was the common evolutionary factor in all organic life. Kill thy enemy by any means possible. False claim you were above those base instincts, that is the mere truth that had separated factions such as these for thousands of years.

Thus flames bickered and swayed as seething sheets from doorways and windows, unsatisfied beasts that consumed all they touched as the very foundations of Coruscant continued to rumble and roar from heavy laser impacts.

A Sith soldier of some sort, cowered in the cover of a half-fallen wall. Blood seeping from deaf ears, his simple aural tools were no match from the growling overpressure the onslaught wrought upon them. More pitiful yet, the Droid thought, scanning the infirm next to him as her anemic fingers attempted to pluck jagged blades of glass from pierced cheeks and forehead. When would they learn? You never sent an Organic to handle a Droid's job.

"Help me!!" someone was screaming.

Through sparks that spit and crackled from the burning buildings near-by Six-O zoomed rapidly in on the voice.

"There's more inside! PLEASE HELP!" the elderly woman continued to wallow under the din. Blaster bolts whickering the air so thickly up and down the street from the two opposing forces many of these wretches weren't even abandoning their homes as they blackened and collapsed from heat and flame.

Six-O took to the prowl once more, a tall, hulking figure skimming like a wraith through the ever growing cloud of smoke that maimed visibility, threatening to choke it out of existence entirely.

Again, his cherished protocols began to play. Music to War by. The volume ever increasing.

As two GA attempted to wrestle civilians from the blazing abode, the Droid struck. Meeting them with accurate, deathly precision as they wobbled back in to the open doorway. Decimating their bodies -- and the child sized bundles clung to their chests with heavy Blaster Fire.

 

[Reverance]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEbE3fGfF-o​

​

The vendor district, a secret passageway. Something or another, what damage left behind at the temple wasn't one that concerned. He wasn't a religous man, unless it came in the form of proclaiming his false divination towards the Yun'O. Neither here nor there, he tasted the metallic hints of blood and smoke in the air, carcasses burned deep or plastered to what remained of the streets. It was the sort of effort he had looked for, the impact he hoped would reign down against the One Sith. A challenge, finally, he lifted his arms up as soldiers of this force approached and he was interrupted for the celebration, lowering his arms.

"I can't help but assume you all..." The blaster fire hunched out from the barrel, crawling across the airwaves, as it smacked against the armorweave robe. It danced off into the distance, leaving a scorch against the brown robe and the Sith Lord stepping back. He let out a growl, rolling his shoulder.

​

Running forward, his left hand came out, force grabbing a hefty rock and flinging it forward. It collided with the face plate of another soldier as the red beam of the roecnar ignited, sending a beam back at the shooter. It hit him square in the chest, sending him rolling over as he flung the saber. Another bolt hit his robe and he growled just a bit louder, stepping back. That was alright, that shooter was cleaved in half, a thought that made him smile as the saber boomeranged back into his right hand. One left now and he responded with a force grip, the sort that clings and never lets go. Gesticulating as if wafting a poor smell from his nostrils, he bounced the man back and forth between the two buildings before letting him go. He fell to the ground, pretty broken.

Scoffing, he pulled the robe over his cowl, looking over the distance towards the Sith Temple and cracking his neck. Turning, he walked down the abandoned vendor path.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Trask]

Objective: Find and eliminate the sith and their allies
Allies: [member="Peyton Steele"], [member="Rekha Kaarde"], [member="Miad'rien'navruno"]
Enemies: [member="Six-O"], The One Sith
Location: The streets near the temple


When the planetary defense cannons swiveled and began firing on the temple they had been meant to defend, it became instantly and abundantly clear that this team's primary objective had been completed by another party. Trask, not being the kind of man to dally about when there was a battle to win, immediately shifted his focus from their primary objective to their secondary one. With the temple now reduced to ruins, there would be no shortage of sith and their allies attempting to flee the doomed structure, and catching them unaware in the midst of their retreat would provide a significant advantage to anyone aligned against them. So it was that he spun an about face as he shrugged the parka from his shoulders, bringing his rifle up into a more ready position as he set off, rather than attempting to keep it hidden at his side beneath the makeshift disguise. As a matter of both courtesy and common sense, he sent a brief message to his teammates to alert them of his change in status.

:rimary objective complete. Engaging secondary.::

No longer highlighted by the outrgeously bright coloration of the parka, the chiss warrior's armor seemed to blend into the shadows as neon signs and street lights flickered on and off, though more often simply flickered off as the damage to the power grid became more severe. He payed the darkness no mind, as it didn't even register to his own senses beyond the simple fact that it existed. The dark could not obstruct the vision of one who had already been blinded. Regardless of the smoke and the dark, Trask pressed on unimpeded and quickly closed the distance to the collapsing temple.

It was a small occurence that caught his attention, small at least in the grand scheme of the war that raged perpetually on, and he might have missed it entirely if not for the telltale loss of four nearby spirits. They had not been engaged in combat, his mind was actively searching for the presence of hostile intent, yet agony and terror had been their last thoughts before they ended in a sudden nothingness. There were times when the chiss wished for his implants back, rather than feeling things the way he did now. These heightened senses of the world made it much more difficult to disengage emotion from your decisions. Perhaps before he might have simply ignored the rogue mechanical and moved on toward the temple, but if its probramming was simply to destroy those affiliated with the GA then it would not hesitate to gun down anything it percieved to fit that role.

So it was that Trask rounded a street corner behind the droid, charric rifle raised and aim steadied even before he had a clear line of sight, and opened fire on the unit. He fired in short bursts, placing the first three shots where the droid's head was, then correcting the second salvo for the position of the center of its chest.

 

[Six-O]

Red filter, blue filter. Human wavelength, Voss. The changes came as rapidly as they did frequent. Six-O always had felt the need to capture his killing in what he perceived was the most stylish spectrum. It was the little things. Those small tweaks and adjustments that could really abduct the full beauty of machine on organic violence.

His contract with the One Sith was new, some may say this was actually the first time they had even known this particular Unit existed. But IGa-60 had dedicated his entire existence to the cause of War. Their alleged barbarity would bring him to heel, figuratively speaking of course. But regardless of that conclusion, the Droid would hold this position. None would pass.

But first.

She'd came out of a dress shop, some place of pomp and fashion. Yes, no doubt a retailer of fine heathen fabrics that the Organics found themselves agitated in to obsessive, pining fits of hair pulling and foot stomping rage over. Her arms flailed, pathetically trying to pat and palm flares of orange and red from her dress and hair.

Blaster beams snapped, and dashed over her head from the end of the street. Their trail swirling smoke, and chewing duracrete to pebbles and dust that rattled over the ground; A constant debris rain. The level of smoke had risen to such a level now that even Six-O required easing his spectrum in to the short-wave infrared.

With the seconds ticking by at an eternity the Droid loosed another volley of Blaster fire from the DLT-20A, he could have missed the poor girl, he could have with ease in fact. But he did not. No he chose to cease her life function as he raked bursting beams of energy over the stalemated GA. By his hand she lay in the rubble laden street, holes in her chest steaming grooves through her skull.

Were he anything other than Droid it would have been the last thing he did.

With him, or more precisely, with his model. There was really no behind. That three-hundred and sixty degree field of view, it was hard to overcome. Sensors honed in on the unjustified attempt on his life. The trajectory was mapped, the data processed. A million lines of code, and ceaseless churning of protocols deciphering the most viable solution for the Droid's body to follow.

He took to the left -- maser discharges? Oh he had not seen these in ages. They gave off such a wonderful effulgence whenever they lit his glowing red sensors. Upon them he gazed, half contemplating if the buzz that paced his every circuit was somehow in any way the same a young organic of the female variety felt when receiving that special ring. This would be glorious.

The steps were heavy, sure, and fast. Three blue bolts cracking with power edged by his dome-like cranial structure. The additional burst that had once striven to contact his strong blast armor body now also just out of range following the outline of his outer-right arm as he locked in for the place of origin. Igniting a volley of four back on to [member="Trask"] all of them close and unyielding with their threat of danger. But surprisingly, none would actually hit him. . .

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

Objective: Find the Sith
Allies: [member="Peyton Steele"] @miad’rien’navruno [member="Trask"]
Enemies: The Sith
Location, on the streets watching Peyton spray paint

Rekha watched Peyton move from available bill board to space available. Rekha moved along with her blaster drawn waiting to come around the corner face to face with someone, she had a feeling that she might enjoy not doing that.

Force users were cunning and had abilities that she had not yet figured out how to fight against it, she had to get back to getting the amulet that would help for certain.
Then there was the sound of boots, crunching on loose gravel. Rekha paused then stepped back to shield herself from who was moving towards them, “Peyton eyes open”
Stepping around the corner came a squadron of 5 troopers fanned out and moving forward as they swept the streets.

Rekha so wanted to get back to the site of the Lucky Lady they were only a few more blocks to it, and then she could see what was going on with the old girl.