The Sacking of Zeltros

[Gir Quee]

Allies: [member="Camellia Swift"], various Jedi and Republic forces
Enemies: One Sith
Objective: Secure the space port

CXC Conveyor-class Shuttle Moonlight, over Zeltros Spaceport

As his ship rose into the air, he watched the last marines off of his Crescent Light scurry off into the corridors of the damaged space port. The last of the Sith had seemingly left the port, though Gir was not entirely sure if it was because they were content with the damage that they had wrought, or rather if they had moved on to other things. He had heard rumors that many of them were mad or twisted in their emotions, in as much so that they had often become their sole drive. Yet Gir could not fully comprehend those sentiments. His sapphire blue eyes scanned the port's horizon, picking up on the subtle details of the day's carnage so far only to feel a glimmer of hope rise up in his chest at the lack of current conflict in the area.

This is a gift.

As the last of the fires was put out by the firefighting droids and Zeltros emergency workers, the surviving Republic forces began to consolidate their gains; one never knew if the Sith would come back. While there weren't any more starships present that could easily fly any more, perhaps they would try to make an escape on the few ships remaining that flight control had deemed "unspaceworthy". Corridors were blocked off and blast doors sealed. Republic soldiers began to make extra cover and hiding places by moving duraplast crates and barrels as they set up checkpoints and ambush locations within the port itself. Some actually dug up foxholes where the earth was exposed, clammered in, and then covered their hiding spots with camouflaged netting and debris. But while others went to the ground, some went higher up, taking positions on the roofs of the port's structures. They trained their blaster rifles onto the ground below, warily watching for any more intrusions, ready to pick them off with a few well aimed blaster shots. A handful among them carried the PLEX launchers they had used against the dragon, but now ready to be aimed at any attacking vehicle that got too close to the port.

Gir turned his eyes upward and toggled his comlink, "Portmaster, are the emergency response crews ready?"

"As best as they can, soldier," came back a voice slowly.

Gir nodded to no-one in particular. The attack had tired the crews working the port, but that wouldn't stop a variety of emergency response teams from coming to the aid of the falling frigate. Firefighting speeders and ambulances began to stage nearby in case the Hammerhead frigate did make a hard landing. But the man knew that such a landing was no certainty; many ships had automatic safeguards to prevent such rapid descents, some ships had auxiliary bridges, and there even remained the possibility that one of the port's tractor beam projectors would be able to snag the frigate and either slow it down or divert it to crash in a less devastating place, perhaps the already blown up bay where a certain cargo ship once sat.

But he thought his own role in this part of the defense of Zeltros was likely at an end.

The other players in the game had moved, and so would he.

 

[Reverance]

Zeltros City
Street Party/Pot luck
Allies: [member="Darth Layil"] [member="Seras Goto"] [member="Darth Odium"] [member="Darth Carach"] [member="Ceran Moerelle"] [member="Cordelia deWinter"]
Enemies: [member="Jericho"] [member="Flint Dexen"] [member="Ben Watts"] [member="Zaren Bouqi"] [member="Nagate Hei"]
Objective: Stirring up the pot (aiding One Sith Forces)
Listening to: Beyond the stars
Equipment: In biography

Fingers skittered across the pilot dash​

Lights flickered from blue to green​

ETA is 1 minute to surface​

A dark smile, a red eye reading in excitement​

Guided, the ship found surface​

The Sith Lord found ground​

His steps showed purpose​

​

Gabriel blinked steadily, staring into the near empty tumbler. The memory surfaced as they often do, his mind quick to catch it, a frog jumping at the sight of insects above water. He sloshed it, it sloshed back, the amber fluid potent and overwhelming. His mind raced, attempting to trace his steps from his initial arrival with the One Sith forces. A turn of the head, a shift of the shoulder, and the view of all the dead Zeltrons behind him brought the memory flooding back.

Dual Sabers ignited in a flash of heat​

The ceiling lights pulsated teals and purples​

The floor lacquered and glossy​

The people happy​

Until he came, until he introduced himself​

Reverance​

​

He blinked again and stood from the bar at the front of the club, finishing the drink in a gulp before setting the tumbler down and sliding it across the varnished wood. It stopped in the bartenders severed hand, several feet down. He smiled as he realized that perhaps the pheromones this place was known for had an unintended consequence on him, one that would make his attempts at control even more troublesome. With a renewed since of vigilance towards his own person, Gabriel tore out of the club and force jumped up the building in front of him, landing in a puddle upon roof top and instantly drenched in the chronic deluge. He had all his force reserves, at least Reverance was good enough to grant him that, the Sith Lord thought introspectively as he raced across the roof tops. He had a mind for this sort of thing, determining the moving pieces, which were the queens and which were the pawns. Shatterpoint, a low usage power, but difficultly mastered, assisted with this, much in the same way that Mace Windu discerned the importance of Count Dooku in the Clone Wars. These people, this fight, it was important for the here and now. He aimed himself towards the inner city and would bring a fresh set of sabers to this fight. As he ran, he slipped on a breather mask, covering only his mouth and nose, attempting to stave off the powers of the Zeltrons and their enamored city.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla’s speed didn’t slow — but [member="Christian Slade"]’s words weren’t lost to the sound of the wind and pounding rain.

“That’s commendable.” Kiskla replied, feeling little slips of rain find their way to her tongue as she moved. Her words were a throw-back to what Christian had said moments before. Her weight transferred to skid to a stop, her left foot bracing most of the impact as she slid through some rubble that had been left behind from the storming graug. Tiny pebbles rolled away from her feet, and toward the toes of the creatures that had just left them.

Slade’s admission of hating Sith was strange — she couldn’t get over the emotions Sith had against each other. She wondered if they would all just take each other out one day, and leave the Jedi to the peacekeeping, rather than the stomping.

“A mutual ground.” She replied, looking over her shoulder as she tensed, keeping her senses wary this close to the enemy. “I appreciate your offer — there’s someone in there that’s set this lure.” She gestured to the open mouth of a former place of licentious entertainment. She could feel him permeating from inside. “Think you could show off with these brutes a little more?"

A Sith. She was here going to trust the words of a Sith. Would she get the boy or he? She was terrible with kids.

Kiskla decided onus be on her. She rolled her shoulders and adjusted her position to stand taller, focusing intently on Malgog. Before she spoke, she evaluated his chemistry on a subatomic level -- seeing his composure for the tiny elements that it was. If he didn't comply with her demand, he'd be in both a telekinetic grip and a dissection via Art of the Small.

But Kiskla liked to dwell in the realm of possibility. He could comply.
"I'm here--the kid goes free."

[member="Darth Vornskr"]​

 

[Disciple]

[member="Sabrina Kotass"]

Disciple chuckled, poofed and appeared a few feet behind her. No illusion, just lightning quick speed to the point it was questionable if he'd teleported or not. "You dare? Oh, that's cute." He snapped his cane in two, activating the twin short sabers with a mental nudge at the right spots. Perhaps he hadn't cut folk with a blunt object after all. "What do you dare, exactly? It's certainly not to fight me. Something else is on that vacant mind of yours."

 

[Gir Quee]

Allies: [member="Ekul Selah"], [member="Kian Karr"], [member="Carn Dista"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], various Jedi and Republic forces
Enemies: [member="Sawa Ike"], [member="Darth Praelior"], [member="Darth Vornskr"], various One Sith
Objective: Reinforce the Palace defenders

CXC Conveyor-class Shuttle Moonlight, somewhere over Zeltros City

"More ships inbound, probably a whole line orbiting up there," dryly noted the man.

Gir nodded, "The more time the Jedi buy us, the more reinforcements will get to see some action."

Their small ship zipped over the skyline, weaving in and out of the buildings. When his pilot had first started these maneuvers, Gir had clenched the edge of his seat tightly, expecting some errant or foolhardy airspeeder to leap out and hit them. But the conflict seemed to have grounded nearly all of them, or more likely, their owners and users had fled the area with them. But that particular fear had lessened only to be replaced by yet another: more civilian deaths. He had almost wished to suddenly see airspeeders rise up around him, as if the Sith hadn't attacked and the partiers had been left to their own debaucheries. But glancing downwards, he could only see the ruin and death that the One Sith had brought to the pleasure world. His comlink earpiece beeped, indicating a new call. He promptly tapped a button on it.

"Captain Quee speaking," stated Gir plainly.

"Captain Quee, this is Major Hansser of the Valkyrie Regiment, Phoenix Corps..."

Gir had never heard of this major. But guessing by the accent of major's voice, Gir thought that Hansser was a likely a human male from somewhere in the Outer Rim. He had heard of the Phoenix Corps, an organization within the Galactic Republic army that had something of a reputation for being self-righteous, especially among the other ground pounders, though apparently their courage was second to none. If the rumors could be believed...

"...according to Flight Control, your ship is the closest to the palace. What do your eyes see?"

Gir glanced around the rapidly changing landscape even as his own pilot veered Moonlight to just circle outside of the conflict zone. Several hundred meters away from the perimeter of the fighting and nearly a kilometer up, Gir had a decent overall view of the battlefield, though those below him were mere specks of color and the monolithic palace seemed like a child's plaything. He toggled his microphone to on.

"...fighting is still raging on in front of the palace; there appears to be large numbers of some sort of primitive alien shock troops, along with a smattering of Sith and sithspawn."

"Any good landing zones?"

"Well, there's a park about a klick away to the east of the palace if you're looking for a large area, but otherwise, there's a smattering of odd spots, rooftops and the like."

"We'll take what we can get captain, keep an eye on the place, and update me if anything changes. We're inbound now in drop-pods aimed for that park as per flight control, and the perimeters of the palace grounds. I want you to find and send me the coordinates of several open rooftops to land our observer and snipers, who will be inbound momentarily. Can you do that for me, soldier?"

"Yes sir."

Despite the Major's words and the expected reinforcements, Git found himself feeling only slightly better as he watched the battle below from his loft perch. I doubt any of the Valkyries can take on a Sith knight or master even when working in groups, but they could certainly cut down those alien warriors down to size. He eyed a column of dust rise up from the palace and its maker; some reptilian leviathan. He frowned. Another one? Gir tapped his comlink headset once more.

"Red Flight, third flight of Liberty squadron, I'm going to need you at the palace; pull out from guarding the star port. There's another dragon-thing loose here, take it down, but you are only authorized to use laser cannons. Got it?"

A series of acknowledgements briefly flooded the channel, bringing a moment of relief to the man.

Incoming Republic Reinforcements:

Elements of Valkyrie Regiment equipped with the following pieces of equipment:

-Warden-class Body Armor
-VLR-5 Assault Blasters
-Personal Defense Weapon M1 neutralizer
-M1 Lance Sniper Rifle
-miscellaneous standard grenades and basic soldiering equipments

Starships en route to slay the leviathan
-four Narra-class Interceptors
-two BT-12 Thunderstrike Gunships

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian smirked at Kiskla and began emitting that air of confidence he wore so well. He laughed lightly to himself as the woman returned his compliment with a playful comment, wondering if he'd show off a little more with a few of the others. He said nothing, though, and stepped past the woman to come to a pile of rubble. There he grabbed a long piece of durasteel rebar and plucked it from the pile. He then started walking towards the door, bending the bar straight as he did.

After a moment, Christian was noticed by a pair of Sith standing guard at the front door of the strip club. They were in the company of a Graug who was standing there looking rather bored, just itching to use his massive sword, which was really just a massive chunk of metal with one hardly sharpened edge. A creature his size, however, didn't need a very sharp weapon when he possessed the strength of more than ten men.

Not wasting time, Christian began to run, the long piece of rebar tailing behind him in his right hand as the two Sith stood up and prepared for his attack. When Christian reached his top speed without enhancing it by the force, however, he bounded forward one last time, bent at his knees, and when he touched ground again he was gone. His form reappeared above the troop that was guarding the door, a leap enhanced by way of the force to confuse them when he vanished, going from a hardly threatening run and all of a sudden disappearing with such a powerful leap. When he was above them, he squeezed the rebar with his right hand, the spell circle burning to violet life and soaking the metal rod.

​

When the top of the rebar touched the ground, a wave of the force rushed out from beneath him in all directions, the ground cracking from impact of the metal rod and his right knee. The two Sith in front of him were immediately thrown backwards, one slamming into and caving in the wall behind him with his back, the rest of the wall caving in on him. The other struck the double doors of the strip club and burst open, snapping almost completely off their hinges and hanging there, just as broken as the rest of the city now.

The Gruag was lifted and thrown, with all it's wight, down the street, dropping his massive battle sword and tumbling across loose duracrete and debris until he rolled into a pile of rubble. When it finally stopped, it huffed an agitated growl and started trying to push itself up before it collapsed.

"That wasn't so bad.", Christian said with a smile as he curiously, but cautiously walked up to the strip club doors, pushing one of them open which fell from it's hinge as he did and slammed into the floor. Immediately he pulled his hand back as if he was actually trying to be careful after what he'd just done to the street and the man who had been standing in it. "Whoops. I'll fix that later.", he said as he glanced inside, a curious grin still on his lips.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Darth Banshee]

[member="Disciple"]

She stepped back as the clown came down, towards her at a tremendous speed. He the insulted her saying her mind was vacant, that was a bit rich coming from insane clown. She was not going to underestimate him though, as he was still deadly enemy. She looked at him in eyes, and said Oh but I do intend to put you down. She then poised herself ready for lightsaber combat, she was quite good at dueling. Though she does like cheap tricks to win the fight, and this one would be no different. She began by reaching out with the force towards him, she planned on crushing his hand against the lightsaber. So he be forced to drop it, and hopefully make his hand useless as well. She could feel the bones his skin and tendons, she then focused on hate of pointless deaths this man had caused. She used that hatred to fuel her, as she bore the force down on his hand trying to crush it against his lightsaber. If he managed to resist it he might loosen his grip on his left lightsaber, and then she use the force to take it from him.

 

[Nyos Val]

Location: Streets
Objective: Wipe out Sithspawn
Allies: [member="Camellia Swift"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Praelior"]

Titan left the girl and her strange pet and ran for the Glycon that was still alive. Jumping away with his jetpack, Titan landed on the roof of the building next to the destructive Goliath beast. Sprinting along the rooftops, Titan drew back his Beskad and jumped off the nearest ledge onto the back of the creature.

It realized there was an unwanted passenger on it and began to thrash about. Titan sunk his blade into the back of the beast to hold his position. The Graug below began to fire at Titan, hoping to hit him a dislodge him, but only succeeded in scarring the Glycon, turning it on its allies. It began to stomp on anything that moved around it, whether it was Republic or Sithspawn, it was going to die under the giant feet of the Glycon.

In a moment of respite, Titan climbed to the head of the creature and turned the blade down. The creature thrust his head up, launching Titan in the air, on the way back down, the behemoth soldier slammed his large Beskad into the base of the skull of the beast, severing the spinal cord and stopping all actions to the rest of the body, including breathing and pumping blood through the grotesque body of the abomination. Riding it all the way to the ground, Titan ripped the blade from the corpse and tumbled off the beast.

What was left of the Graug and Republic troopers took a breath as the dust settled from the corpse of the giant hitting the ground...

 

[J.Reaper]

reaper woke up at the hospitel bed, hearing screams and people running around. the clone got up and remembered that he was on a mission to get supplies on a abandoned outpost, the rest was kind of blurry but he remembered he ran into some mercs trying to get a little twi'lek girl.

he shaked his head then stood up. he looked around in the hospital room after his gear and saw it laying on a table. he walked to it then he started puting on his armor. when he was done he put his helmet on the activated his visor HUD.

he took his knife and inserted it into its holster that was on his chest then he grabbed his rifle and walked out the room. when the clone got out the room he saw people running around so he grabbed a nurse that was running and he asked her
"miss, whats going on?" and she replied "sith!! they are in zeltron!!" he got surprised then he asked "what is the way to the palace?" she pointed the direction" thanks miss" he let her go then started running down the hall and activated his Coms "this is Clone Trooper CC-3368 "reaper" does anyone copy, moving to the palace, i repeat i am moving to the palace, over" he didnt know what was going on but he hoped anyone could explain the situation.


Ekul Selah, Kian Karr

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Ơ͠h,͟͢ b҉̴̢u̕͞t̷̢ ̸̷̢Mi̧ś̶̕s̡̕͠ G͘r͡a͜yso̕͠n҉҉͘.̵̡ ͟͡Dí̶̀d̵ ̶͏҉y̡ơ͟u̡̕ ̶re̢a̢l̀̀l̸͟y ͟͠e̷̛͟x̕p̨e͜c̢t́͜ ͡i̷t̡̛ ͏҉͟t́͘o̷͜ ̢be̴̡ ͟s҉͘͠o̴͡ ̶ȩ̵à̛s͟y ̶̕fo̷̡r̛̕ ̨̛͘y̛͟͠o͟͠u͢?̵̴̛"

The voice came not from the Graug, nor from some secret locations in the nearby vicinity, but from the child the Graug held aloft like a sack of space potatoes. The Warchief closed his eyes for a moment and knelt down before the two adversaries that had come into the Sith Lord's web. From his grip arose the small Zeltron child, but as he turned to face them both they would discover that he was not as he was moments earlier. His eyes blazed with a hellish glow that smothered the former innocence previously residing within them, but besides that his face was stone-set in an emotionless, blank stare. Despite the obvious wounds that he sported all across his small frame, he moved as if none of them hindered him in the slightest. He lifted a single mangled hand to regard the Grandmaster;

"Yo̵͝͠u̷̸͟ ͢͠w҉a̡͘l̡͘k͞e͠d͜ ̛͟r͢ig̷h̡͘t͡҉ ͠i̷̵͡n̶͢t͡ơ̢ ̢͜my̨͠͏ t̨̢͜r̢ąp, ̢͢͟k͢n̵̢o͏̷w͠i̸n҉̡͘g͞ ̀f̀u̸͞l̵̵̡l̨̢ ͢w̧҉ę̧ļ̛͟l̸̛ ̴̨t̷̀͜h̡̛a̢t̴͝ ̀i͡t͜͠ ͘͢w̨͠͝a̷͢s̴̴͟ ̷à̢͟ ̨t͞͡r̶a̧͝p̡͢͡ ̷i̷ǹ҉t͟e͟n҉d͏̧͢e͏̷d ͘͝f̧o̶r̡ ҉̀yơ҉u͜,͢ ́͝b̸u̕͢t̶̶ ̢̛y͜͝ouŕ ̷̨̕d͜e͏s̛͜ì̡̧r̛e ̶̛t̀͟o ̢s҉a̸̕v͡ę̧ ͘t̕͟he҉̧̕ ҉į͢͡n̛n̶o̡c̷eń̨̢t ̵d̢̧͡r͟ó̡ve̵͝ ͢͡ỳ̷̧o͞u̕ t͏o̵͠҉ s̡u͡c͟h ̵á ̷̴̡f̀͞o͢o͠l-͏̴̸h̕é͠a͠r͘͢͝t̢y͘͟ ͢͏̸co̸ur̨͝se̸ ̵o̴f̀͞ ̧̛͜a̴c̵t́io͠n̨̢.̴͢҉ ҉͜͜F̸o̧r͠ a͢ ̵̧t͘i͝m͏e ͢I͘ ̸́h͠á͏d̕͝͏ ̛͜͟f̢e̶̵̛a̧͟rs͢͞ ͝͡ţha͟͡͠t̷͏ ͞y̛o̧̕ú҉͡ ͠w͘͡͝o̷̧u҉ld ̡n͜o̸t ̴r̀i̧͜͜s̛é҉ ̸̢t҉̛ơ͘ m̶͡ý ̢͞͡ba̛͘įt̶,͝ an̴͝d͡ ̢͞aļ͟l̢ ̛̛o̕͏f͘ ̨̀͡th҉͘͠o̶̧͝ś̢e̢͘ ̷͏G̵͏̵r̷̛aú͜͡g̸̨ ̴̵w͟͞a͟rr͏í̛o̵̢͜r̢͜s ͏̵w̴̸o̶̵͡u͞҉l̴d̨͜͡ ̷͢h̷a͢͠v̸̛͠e͜ ͜͡b͞e͜͝ȩn͜ ̢͜͡ś̢҉a͘cri̢f̸ic͏͠e͞d ͏͞i͜͜ń ͘͜va̷į̵͟n̢. A͜l͟t҉h́o͞ugh̨͏̶,̵͝ I̸ ẁ͟o͏u̷ld͟ ̷̷h͏҉a͞v̸͞e̴͝ ̵̴nǫt̸͞ ҉͜lo̢͢͏s̷t̢͠ ҉̀̕a͠n͟ỳ̛ ͏ş͟l̢͢e̶̕é͟p̵̨ ǫ͏v̡e͢r̴ ͜͞t҉h͞͝é̴m͡͠,͏ ͢͢t̴h̶ey̧ ̧w͞͝e͟r̷̕͡e̵̡ ç͜r̷̴e͘a̴̛̛t͘ed t͟ò͝ d͟i̡͜e͡͡ f҉̸o҉r̢͘ ̧͠m̷ý̶ ̴w͏̢ì̡l͡l̸̡,̸̡ ͢͠a̶n̡d̛̕ ̧̛͘t̶̢h̷̶ę̶y͜͞ ͡͏d̀͏i͟d̡́͠ ̸̢śǫ ̧́͜ẁ͜i̕͜t͡h̸̡ ́҉g̨l̷̕͞o̴̸͠r͢y҉͏ ̶i̡n̶̨ ̢t̡h͟ȩ͘i͟͠r̶ ͟͡h͝è̕a̷͝r͡ts a̧͡ń̴d̴̸͜ ̢̨̀a̕ ́͠w̸͢a̶r̕͘͝ ҉̵c̨͞͡r͠y ̵̷͡up̵̧̕o͘ń͝ ̷̢͜t͠͏̵h̷͢͞e̷ir̛ ҉l̷i̴͡ṕs.̧ ̛҉̨I ̴̧ç̢ơ͘ú͠l҉d̀̕ ̷̨͘a͘͢s͢k̡͘ ̨n҉ò ̶̴͟b̷̛e̵͡t̷͜͝t̵e̷̶r ͏̡͢of̧͢ ̵̕t̴͝͡hem̷."

The child chuckled as he took another step towards them, his body aching and twisting awkwardly with each step as the dark force controlling his mind and body smothered the child's soul and forced him to move and say what he wished like some twisted marionette. He then shifted his attention from the Grandmaster to the unwanted accomplish that had decided to tag along, and inadvertently get in the way of the Sith Lord's quarrel with the Grandmaster of the Jedi. The child then pointed a broken accusing finger towards the rogue Sith;

"Ýo͡u̵̢ ̢ar͝è͏̡ ́͠u̢͡n̵̕w͜͢e̢͜lco͜͝me̶̢͝,̸ ͟͡i̢͢ń͝t̀e̶r̷l͏op̨èr͟҉. ̢B͏ég͡o͞n͠e͞ ҉f͡r̀̕͝om͝ ̀͘m̡y̴ ̴͠s̛͡͡i̸͜͠ght, ̸̷̛ǫŗ̕ ͜f̨a͘c̡͏́e ̶͞͞m҉̴͜y̷̕ ́͜e͡tèr̵͠nal̸ ̷̡wra̡͡t͜h.҉̶"

He then turned back towards Grayson, and beckoned for her to follow him.

"Ò̡n͝l͡y̵̛ ͢͞ý͟o̵͞u͘ m̕͞ay ͏c̨̨ó̸͜m͏e̛͝ ͡w҉i̷th̡͝i̷ń͟,̷̵ ̛҉G͞ŗ͘͠a̛͘y̵s̸̴͞o̧͝ǹ̶͟,́͞ ̶̧͞b҉u͞͞t́ ŕ̵em̸e̴͞m͏be̢r̛͜͞ ̴ţ͜h͜͟at̵ ̵͠i̡̧͘f yo̷̢͝u̶ ͝g͝͡o͞͝ ͏̶͜ag̀͡àin͡҉̷st̷ ̶m̛y̧͜͢ s͢͏̵i̵m͢͞p̢ĺe̶ ͞w̵͟i͢͝͠s̨҉̡h͏ȩ͜͡s͘͢͠ ̨͟t҉ḩ͘͞a̕͡n̢̧͘ ͘t̴he ͡c̶͜͞h̸̨̛i̧҉ĺ̢̧d̢,̷̢͜ ͟͞a̸nd̵ t̷h̨e ́ųn͜t̵̡o͘l҉͘͞d̕ ̴o͟t̕h̷e̕҉r̛s҉̴̵ ̸͢͡I͞ ̡͜͢h͝a͜v͘e ͟͞͡ca̕ṕ̡͞t̀͘͠u͜r̀e̛͡d̸͘ ̴ìn̡ ҉m̕̕͟y͝ ́́w̛͡͏è̷̕b,̷̛͜ s̸͟h͡a͜͝l͏l̸̨ ̡͝p͡͞e̸̡r͏̨i̸s̨͞h͘͝ ͏m̶҉ò̧s͝͝t͡ ͝͝͡g̨r҉̶u̵e̕s҉͘oḿ̧e̶͞l̡y͏.̵͠"

[member="Kiskla Grayson"] [member="Christian Slade"]

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian laughed lightly to himself as he stepped into the strip club and found a nice comfy wall to post up on, his right shoulder pressing against it as he crossed both arms over his chest and watched the grotesque little display. It appeared to Christian that the Sith Lord was using the hostage child as a puppet through which he could communicate with he and Kiskla, which didn't surprise him at all. In fact, it was one of the reasons that he was sickened by the modern day Sith that resorted to illusions and mind games and even something so cowardly as this. The use of a weakling or a lesser through these means was about as disgusting as it got for a Sith, which only confused Christian further. "Are all Sith as afraid as this one?", he asked himself aloud, though not pointedly at either Kiskla or the Sith who'd invaded the child's mind.

Glancing over at Kiskla, Christian smirked and watched her for a moment, trying to gauge her reaction as he thought a couple of things over. The first thing was this. He was almost certain that this child was already dead, and if he wasn't, the injuries he'd sustained and the condition he was in would certainly see the job well done after the Sith severed their connection to the child. In fact, it was likely the dark side itself that was even keeping the youngling still breathing. The second thing was this. If she did decide to go it alone, which Christian was ready and willing to let happen if she opted to, he was almost certain that the other hostages that Sith had eluded to either didn't exist or were going to die one way or the other. Such was the way a Sith played their games, considering he knew a great deal about them.

There was a point to everything, even in the darkest times like those, and right then and there Christian had to believe that he was a party to that scene so that he could see exactly what he was never meant to be. He would never hide behind a lesser being or use other creatures to do his fighting for him. It might have been foolish or overly brave. It also might very well see him to an early grave, which he was well aware of, but it was fair. In the end, if he was going to use the darkness in his heart and manipulate the dark side of the force, he thought it almost necessary to uphold at least a few basic decencies.

"The Sith of the modern age seem a lot more cowardly than I remember. It has been some time since I've counted myself among their numbers, however.", Christian said, this time directing his words to Kiskla. He continued to watch her as she thought about what to do, and as she did he chose to hopefully ease that process by sharing one last thing. "If you think it best to go on alone, I'll let you, but search yourself for a moment before you make that decision. This child is most likely already dead, and if he's not, he'll die the moment the dark side leaves him. So, this isn't a question of saving this child or not, because you can't. This comes down to the others mentioned. Is he bluffing about other hostages or is he not?", he asked her, sure that she'd have an answer rather quickly.

"Just say the word, Love. It's your call.", he said as he glanced back across the room and locked eyes with the blank face of a child already lost to the cold clutches of death.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Ben Watts]

( Sorry for the delay! )

Streets
Allies: [member="Flint Dexen"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Odium"]

Ben took a step back as the Sith fell to his attack, he set himself up defensively, waiting for a counter attack but instead he went into a defensive position. Ben had what he wanted, though, he knew he was faster than him and he knew what lightsaber style he was using. Winning a fight was more than just fighting, the Echani believed that the only way you could truly get to know someone was through fighting, and he had discovered this while training with the Echani in his youth.

Flint mentioned that they should let him attack, and he considered it for a moment, they could do that but the fight could drag out for too long. We need to end this as quickly as possible, disarm him, and arrest him. He could draw this fight out for a long time if we let him. Ben had an idea, but it would require concentration. Attack. Ben said to flint, he would be on his own, but Ben would be supporting him with the force meld.

While he was attacking, he was prepping his next move, a doppelganger.

 

[Reverance]

Zeltros City
Street Party/Pot luck
Allies: [member="Darth Odium"], One Sith hoodlums
Enemies: [member="Ben Watts"] [member="Flint Dexen"]
Objective: Learning the tango
Listening to: Indestructible (Somewhat Explicit)

​

Boots clapped, fast paced clacks against roof tops in a town lit not by festivities and ceremony, but by the pulse of destruction in thwacks and explosions. Monsters rummaged through the night, having their way with the planet of partying and celebration. Perhaps it was their own form of ceremony. Clouds of steam formed in the transparent breather with each exhalation, fogging up the mouth and nose cover as braided black hair flung itself fiercely into the Sith Lord's wake, tearing through the air and rain like saber through flesh frozen in step. One roof, two roofs, three roofs, four.

Each one was but a stepping stone in the moving water, a Sith Lord tracing the tune of the fight and ramping up for the confrontation. His cowl fluttered beyond him, poorly attached to the drenched and heavy black robes, a paper bag attached to a stick and swung violently. His running was a sprint, his movement a revelation of armored shins and forearms in flashes of black upon brown.

Another roof top, a gap and a leap and roll. Chimneys and natural gas pipes protruded from the black and tar covered roof tops, more in the shape of casual bowls with a drain off-center. He couldn't focus on it, he didn't need to, he just needed to make it in time. Time and the lack of it hastened his step, a men well above age but in the strength of his prime, muscle and athleticism stuck to something strategic and thoughtful, menacing and hating. The forces that opposed the Sith would soon find the tide turning, he could taste the shift in the air. He targeted what he felt was an uneven fight. He would balance the scales. He just wasn't there yet, a minute more and they would be in sight. Sight blurred by the haze of rain.

He gathered the force to him, summoning it like the whip beaten servant he often envisioned it to be. It grew fiery within him, barking back and nipping at the master. He smirked as he quenched it's fierce appetite with promises of blood to come, Reverance within licked his chops at the thought. Two minds, one purpose. Destruction and control interwoven into turbulent harmony.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Rain stung the Jedi Master's exposed eyes as the speeder continued to rocket over the rubble that littered what used to be a street. An eerie clam radiated through Marcello's being as he approached his destination. As he arrived closer to his destination, continuous waves of darkness washed over his presence. However, Marcello had experienced enough interaction with the darkness inherent in him as it was in all beings to be...largely unaffected.

Abruptly, the Jedi Master deployed the air brake. His large frame lurched forward against the restraints as the speeder's horizontal velocity quickly tapered to zero. When the vehicle had come to a stop, the Naboo native threw off the restraints and vaulted from the speeder. Water beaded down his face and brown leather flight jacket as he casually approached the strip club, glacier-blue gaze casually taking in the scene just outside.

With his lightsaber still clipped to his belt, Marcello ascended the steps to the strip club's entrance. When he stepped inside, his natural senses quickly placed a face to the presences he'd felt. One face, that of [member="Kiskla Grayson"], he recognized. [member="Christian Slade"] was...an oddity in that Marcello neither knew him nor had a clear understanding of his presence. The, momentarily, non-threatening posture piqued the Jedi's curiosity for just a moment before he focused his attention on the figure he did not recognize. The one drawing the attention of the other two.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Flint Dexen]

Street
Allies: [member="Ben Watts"]
Enemies: [member="Reverance"] [member="Darth Odium"]

We need to end this as quickly as possible, disarm him, and arrest him. He could draw this fight out for a long time if we let him. Attack.The older Jedi was right. Time now seemed to be against them, especially if, perhaps, there were others coming to the Sith Lord's aid. The faster they could defeat the Sith Lord, the faster they could come to the civilians' defense against other Sith forces.

Without wasting any more time, Flint surged forward, holding his lightsaber in a steady position infront of his body just in case the Sith Lord tried anything while he advanced. As he neared his opponent, Flint directed a swift downwards diagonal slash at the Sith's torso, followed by a quick upwards jab towards the Sith's face.

As he attacked, Flint made sure to ready himself just in case there were any counter-attacks between his own attacks.

 

[Veino Garn]

Communications Hub
Boss Battle: [member="Lady Exedō"]
Music
----------

Veino raised an eyebrow as her eyes changed color. Overdramatic? But then, she was Sith and ate people. That was almost textbook overdramatic. Right? Or had the Sith plunged into a whole new world of darkness and depravity that he was only now discovering? To be completely honest, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

But she was talking again, and it felt as if someone was draining the life from him. He staggered and fell to one knee, catching himself with his hand while he readjusted. Not quite his life. Energy, maybe? It felt like a more accurate representation. But what did it mean? It probably wasn't the proper time for philosophizing and angsting over that. The Force was infinite. Trying to suck all of that away would result in a very unpleasant milkshake experience. Probably for everyone involved.

"Friends, you say?" He grunted, rolling to one side as she jumped from wall to wall, popping back up with his lightsaber held in a guard, eyes following her every move. "Buy me a drink first." He considered. "Maybe even dinner."

He stood back up, recentering himself, and beginning to circle, slowly and cautiously. Juyo was exhausting. Even the strongest couldn't last for hours. Not the way he could with Soresu. He'd just have to survive long enough for her to make a mistake. Given by how much the tension had increased inside his head, that would be a challenge. The Force was his ally though, and it was a powerful ally. He could manage this.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

[member="Christian Slade"]'s logic stung her with a painful bite of truth. The child, broken and deformed, was mesmerizing. Kiskla was entirely transfixed as it spoke to them-- demanding Slade disappear and encouraging her to the depths of.... da club. Kiskla had never been one for smoke machines and neon lights, but suggest there might be hostages? Sure! Sounds like fun!

The voice itself was strange-- it was like a layer of the original octave placed atop a deeper, resonating gravel sound. Akin to the sound [member="Harland Gates"] had adopted when possessed on Dagobah. It was solidified in this moment that possession should only be for third party, inanimate items. Like a speeder, or a coat. Not a body.

"He could be lying, but that would be too point blank." Kiskla murmured, processing the idea. She was partially surprised Slade was still here to assist, though she appreciated it. "There has to be an element of torture-- pain beyond the simple solution." Maybe she would make a wonderful villain, considering the methodical plan she was rehearsing as a potential for [member="Darth Vornskr"]'s actuality. He specifically wanted her tangled in his web. She couldn't blame him, many did; but she couldn't just give into her gut feeling. She needed some sort of plan. "Going in more than one is hardly an ambush. He knows you're here --- maybe there's another way in. Or another way to the hostages."

Then a combination of footsteps and a swelling presence of familiarity echoed outside. Then inside.
Under the best circumstances, no girl wanted her boyfriend at a strip club. In the instance where they could be killed, the want for having said boyfriend at da club was even less.

A glow began to culminate at her hand to distract the boy's eyes and ears.

Light eyes diverted from the demon baby momentarily to flash an unwelcoming glower in [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s direction. While he was experienced in combat situations, she preferred to be unaware of his predicaments -- or at least be in a situation to prevent them rather than encourage them. This glower turned placid and a single corner of her lips twisted, as if to welcome him to this fun little unknown party --- but not to set his expectations high for a good time.

A ginger step evidenced, and she moved forward, approaching the little boy warily. The glow consumed his face, and she could hardly imagine the broken hearted response of his family if they were to receive news of his death. She had to try. She'd broken [member="Darth Vornskr"]'s possession before on Iridronia-- but the militia-assassin had reacted violently. This child wouldn't have the same energy. Still, she couldn't come to terms with him being used like this. Even if it was a wretched, creepy kid.

A single hand lifted, a light glow decorating her finger tips. Woefully she couldn't sent a message back to Vornskr due to his Epicanthix heritage, but she could try to salvage the boy as delicately as possible. She doubted he'd let her get close, but range wasn't entirely necessary for an underdeveloped mind. In what would usually be an uncontrolled, fiery blast, a tiny string of light curled from those fingertips toward the little one. Purposefully, it found an opening to seep through closest to it's target. The kid's nose. From there, Kiskla peered into the shadowy grip that snaked it's way through the pink coils if the child's brain. This was not unlike what she had seen in Dagobah, or on Coruscant when Vornskr had used a flock of Padawans against her. This situation was more delicate, though. This life was more fragile. Tender navigation was necessary-- and though proximity wasn't ideal, it worked. Gentle applications of pressure were like an incorporeal nudge and push to the dark claws that didn't belong to control the boy's mind. Nudge. Flick. Pry. She worked quickly and devotedly. She only hoped the little boy hadn't seen Marcello enter -- since he was acting as Vornskr's eyes. She'd begun control before that. A few minutes of reverse knitting, and she was confident enough to approach the kid-- kneel even for when he collapsed forward. She could feel his delicate thread. It felt frayed. He did fall forward when the final control was relieved, and her arms were there to brace and cradle; so as not to cause more physical harm.



(Apologies for the delay!)

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian's crimson eyes circled from [member="Kiskla Grayson"] as she approached the young boy([member="Darth Vornskr"]) and fell on the man who had just arrived. He was tall, blonde and powerful. A brilliant little display of what Christian might have been had he allowed himself to become a pantywaist Jedi. Alas, he was a dark creature who relied on the dark side of the force, though he wouldn't consider himself a modern Sith either. Not even the words "Dark Jedi" had ever fit to describe him as he thought it cliché. Jedi were Jedi and Sith were Sith. He was a Sith, but very unlike those weaker and more cowardly that he refused to claim that worked through others rather than take care of business themselves.

He wasn't impressed by the modern Sith, and in fact, if he were to consider himself anything it was that he was a classic Sith. One who had his own agenda, dispatching Jedi, Rebels and Imperials alike, and everyone in between. Even those that called themselves Sith who united under one banner he'd killed a few of before, their allegiances making no difference to him. He was selfish and well capable of forgoing his own agenda alone. A true Sith.

As his eyes watched the new arrival in [member="Marcello Matteo"], Christian's customary smirk hung in the corner of his mouth as he glanced back to Kiskla and then back to Marcello. He'd have complimented the man on good taste, but he allowed himself to remain silent in the moment. He wasn't interested in giving the Sith behind all this a heads up to the new arrival. That's why when the blonde man arrived he simply reached out his left hand and held it up firmly, still leaning on the wall just inside the club, as if to tell the man to stop and wait.

He then turned his attention back to Kiskla, his crimson oculars running over her figure as she worked her magic with the Force. She was a rather impressive woman, not only by form, but by her abilities, but being the man that Christian was, he couldn't help but allow his mind to sink into a lesser state, thoughts of flesh upon flesh entering his mind for a moment as he watched her. She was...

...enticing.

(No worries, Love)

 

[Disciple]

"Is this... the real life?" The clown's ephemeral, ghostly voice says, emanating from his throat like the wind through a tunnel mouth. Not unlike a spirit, it sounded as though the voice came from the aether. A hand spun, the saber moving quite steadily around a perfectly fine hand. It took a good deal of concentration to focus on something as small as his fist, and he counted on that to simply send a Force Push towards her to stumble her up and snap what she was trying to do.

He'd... altered himself some time ago, so fractured bones and ruptured tendons weren't something that would occur so easily. "Is this just... fantasy?" He asks, head tilting to one side as a planetary defense fighter shrieked by over head. A hand lifted, arresting the fighters forward motion so quick the pilots neck literally snapped as it came to a sudden and abrupt halt. "Caught in a landslide..." The clown continues before throwing his arm forward, fighter now coming straight for her as fast as its screeching engines could carry it.

The figure hopped back, a wink appearing above that painful grin it seemed to habitually sport. "No escape from reality...." Those last words were whispered into her head and, as he'd done in the millenia since his birth, he faded into the wind like a painful memory descending once more into the depths of the subconscious.

He had been called elsewhere, to allow a meeting between [member="Darth Vornskr"] and [member="Kiskla Grayson"].

In this solemn matter, none would interfere.

Why?

BECAUSE HE WAS CRAZY THAT'S WHY.

[member="Sabrina Kotass"]

 

[Shinju]

Location: Communications Hub
Enemies: [member="Veino Garn"]

Shinju kept moving, now watching him as he stayed on the defensive and she pushed her strike coming again and the best way to break defense was with the stronger offense while she pulled at it. She wanted him to feed her more and more while she used the energy from all around her to feed her stamina and energy. He might be able to defend forever but she wasn't using her own energy to fight. She was using what he gave to her to empower herself and it could show after he had fallen to one knee. He was either weakening or he was realizing what was happening slowly. "You make credits sound so important... why buy you dinner and I am already making you dinner. Can you not feel it, that slow ebbing from your body? Shinju moved now pushing the power into her strike as she brought her foot up behind it to match and kicked to try and dig the heel into the mans gut when he blocked.