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Dark Sun Station


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((As Jek Squall))

 

Jek had seen conflict. The Zabrak had been in skirmishes before, he'd been forced to draw blood. It was something no Jedi relished in, but in the back of their minds knew that some day it could easily happen. This, though? This was war on a scale Jek couldn't have fathomed. He hadn't even faced off against a Sith before, though he'd been trained.

 

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.

 

The words repeated over and over in his mind as the shuttle traversed silently through the war zone. At any moment, a stray turbolaser or missile could have ended them. Instead, something much worse rocked the ship as they neared the station: a tractor beam. The enemy had them now, likely directing them to a fortified position where it would be easy to slaughter all of them. 

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

 

As the shuttle touched down, he took a rebreather from the Shistavanen, but knew that his call was the wrong one. "All due respect, but there's minimal resistance out there. We stay here and we're asking for a concussion rocket fired up the ramp to turn our insides into goo. If we want to survive this, the only answer is to press forward while we still have a chance to take up a solid beachhead against them!"

 

Taking a spare blaster from the shuttle's emergency weapon rack, Jek checked the charge and then swiftly headed out of the shuttle. The young Jedi used his lightsaber to cover the scattering of blaster fire hailed at him as he quickly surveyed the situation in the mad dash for the closest cover. There were only about ten or so troopers already in the bay, at random positions. The technician workers were still  clearing the bay, but had scattered at the first sounds of blaster fire, fearing for their lives. Jek knew this was only the beginning, and in a couple minutes this hangar was likely going to be swarming with troops and heavy weapons fire. 

 

His gaze turned upwards as he scrambled for a plan, and he noticed a network of maintenance catwalks near the ceiling of the hangar. Summoning the Force to him, his legs recoiled, rocketing the Zabrak up to neatly land on one of the catwalks. If he was seen, then he would only draw fire away from the crew below, and he was now in a superior position to return fire. This may have been his first major engagement, but he was determined to not have it be his last.

 

There is no death, there is the Force.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The rapid disembarking of the crew from the small shuttle came as no surprise.  What was a slight surprise was the actions of the force sensitive Zabrak.  No, not just force sensitive, a jedi of some form based on the light sabre.  It was an interesting strategy to take the high ground in a fight such as this.  The blaster would provide a small means of generic combat but not a great amount there of.  However he may be capable of using the force in some long range way.  But no matter, that was not his concern.  Turning to his master he bowed slightly and then gathering the force into himself he enhanced his muscles prior to making the leap to provide heightened speed and agility upon landing.  Without further preamble he leapt to the cat walk while drawing the sabre into his hand though not activating it.

 

Landing on the platform he took a few steps towards the Zabrak, gathering the force around himself, he didn't use it as an attack, but more used it to create a barrier.   It was tempting to strike the Zabrak in the back as he had landed intentionally behind him.  However he couldn't, his honor wouldn't allow.

 

"I don't mean to intrude on your belief that you have taken the high ground but I fear you have not.  I thought to strike you before you realized my presence among all the other living beings but there would be no honor in it.  If you would turn to face me I would like you to indulge my courtesy by answering a question.  Why do you use the power the cosmos has given you the way you do, why not use it to free those who cannot free themselves and to spread power and knowledge through the galaxy?"  

 

While waiting for a response he dropped into a Thrysian combat stance and began formulating a strategy for dealing with the Zabrak after he answered the question.  It was after all his first time dealing with a Jedi and he had to understand why they acted the way they did, hiding their power and only allowing its use if used how they directed.

 

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OOC((Incapacitation of NPCs was agreed upon over Discord, I’ve also agreed to no NPCs interfering with the Mythos duel on the Sith side.))

 

After a time, the ramp fell, and a Jedi shot out of the hold and up onto the maintenance catwalks like a small rodent on methamphetamines. Her apprentice dutifully followed him up, knowing what was expected of him in this encounter. Nyrys, not keen on having her apprentice’s test interfered with, turned her attention to the disembarking rebels. At her suggestion, their minds perceived their weapons turning into venomous snakes and striking at them until they collapsed into a catatonic stupor. 

 

Well, all of them save for a Shistaven canid. She had studied them in her sociological trends of sapient predatory species class at uni, they were physically capable with the keen senses that were part and parcel of being a superior hunting species. In many ways they were similar to the Cathar, in a poorly refined, underevolved sort of way. Budget Cathar. But an intriguing distraction nonetheless. 

 

Unnatural silence began to infect the air as an otherworldly fog flooded into the bay, a crimson bank of obscuration. It was an obvious illusion, but knowing that it was an illusion did not necessarily lift it’s suffocating pall. The fog did not reach the catwalks, Nyrys had been sincere in her position of not aiding her apprentice in his test. Darth Nyrys drew Brathiad Gwynt as she started to feel the dread and suffering of the innocents on Dark Sun station. When military ships were hit with ion cannons, the crew knew the appropriate procedures, had equipment to survive, and knew that engineers would be working to fix things. A junior banker living in an econo hab block as a wage slave wasn’t going to have any of those reassurances as the station went dark, the power doors stopped working, and the life support died. It was going to be Kamino all over again.

 

Blistering fury gushed through Nyrys like molten steel and she flowed through the fog like a quicksilver apparition, darting in with a light probing strike from Brathiad Gwynt before departing with preternatural speed back into the fog. Mockingly playful laughter accompanied her during the attack, sourceless and disconcerting.

 

“I can feel them dying right now, you know. How can you claim to care about the innocent when you always so casually sacrifice their lives in horrific ways? The Crusaders rampage through the core and you do nothing but hide, but a military strike against a civilian space station and suddenly you’re all patriots of justice? COWARDS, ALL OF YOU!”      

 

Duel Post One Darth Nyrys vs Mythos

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"Easier to do when you can wave your magic wand around and redirect bolts" Mythos mumbled out loud as the Jedi ran headlong into the forte, motioning the troops to follow as he took the Jedi's charge as a chance to stretch his limbs outside the small containment. Watching the Jedi briefly as he scanned the area, he could only chuckle at the brashness as the engagement began. "Good way to get yourself killed being the lone first man out."

 

War was something Mythos knew little about, an Alliance Marshal's job being only track down hardened criminals and rogue Jedi and/or Soldiers in derelict of their duties. Nor did he like the idea of being back into a corner as he had done just moments before. But scuffles were something he did know of, his many years of experience through countless operations where anything and everything did go wrong. So when they were tractored aboard, he did only what any seasoned vet would do, and that was to let the enemy strike first and reveal their hands before he did. He carried many scars from this course of action, and he bore them with pride. But as he gazed upon the foe that stood before him, his blood boiled as the scar upon his back throbbed.

 

As him men dropped around him, only one suggestion remained, the infamous dark mystics known to carry a name of a long dead sapient species: Sith. Glaring at the feminine body before him through the metallic mask he adorned, his jaws dripped with angered saliva, his gaunleted hands gripping tightly upon the ancient scatter rifle he carried to the point that its stock ached to crack and break. And even as the misty fog that followed ached to cloud his mind, his gaze remained fixated with deadly intent. Yet her skill and prowess was too much for even his attention to detail and movement, the hunter soon losing sight of her briefly as his face shot around to regain his fixation. Of all the mystics in all of the worlds that made up the Galaxy, her kind was the ones he hated most, for at least the Jedi attempted to use their powers to aid the helpless. But her kind, power and selfishness were the only traits they knew. And he knew the only way he would survive would be to level his mind and reign in his hatred.

 

Deep breaths and long exhales accompanied his search, the Shistavanen letting go of his Marshal's train of thought and letting the Hunter within gain control as he followed the fluidity shadows that darted about when her first strike came and went. Raising his rifle at the last second, he was capable of blocking the full blow, but she still managed to slice through the upper sleeve of his duster and graze the skin and fur beneath. Flinching briefly, he released and lowered his hand to clutch the graze while carefully staying alert, unsure of what may have coated its blade as his ears twitched in search of the slightest of sounds. But all that was heard was the taunting of laughter and words of a self-righteous ego. But then again, he supposed his own was one to match. Just before the voice finished, Mythos fired the scatter rifle in its direction, hoping to at least return the favor.

 

"Anyone who aligns themselves with known criminals whether for profit or personal gain has lost their innocence. There is only the law to follow." The Marshal barked back as best he could, his grizzly voice echoing its harshness through the tangled vocal cords where his throat once recieved a coward's blade. "As for the Crusade of the Core, the ransacking of Coruscant, all began at the hands of your own kind. Only your Dark Magics are capable of moving celestial bodies like Hesperidium. Opportunities such as that always bring out the lawless and why Marshals like myself return to active duty." 

 

Tossing the Scatter Rifle aside, Mythos drew his blade, his gaze still shifting about through the fog, watching... waiting... for her next move.

 

((1))

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The strange and archaic weapon had a greater spread than Nyrys anticipated, and as a result it still clipped her shoulder armor and sent her spinning, although her training kept her from losing her footing completely. She recovered by extending her left leg, bending her right, and lowering her center of gravity with dancer like poise until she reached a predatory stance. 

 

“Did it ever occur to you that by that logic you’re just as guilty of your own side’s massacres? I’m from Kuat, and my people were builders on one of the civilian ship manufacturing stations. They had no part in this damned war, and they were slaughtered anyway. Maybe you can explain to them why they had to die?”

 

It was like vomiting acid and tears, crafting and projecting this illusion. To take those happy images of her cousins, aunts, and uncles, and twist them into representations of their mangled corpses. What remained was virtually inhuman, but with just enough humanity to bring about that unsettling connection. Their flesh was burnt into grotesque mockeries of human faces, and their movements were disjointed and fitful, the bones and muscles that supported them broken and torn by incomprehensible force. The little bodies clutched the remains of favored toys that they had once held for reassurance as the New Republic murdered them all with self righteous zeal.

 

However, despite their monstrous appearance these were no boogeymen or phantasmal chimera meant for attacking. They were effigies of sadness and mourning, weeping as they shambled and crawled towards the marshal. All of them had the same one word question on their blistered lips.

 

“Why?”

 

A chorus of scared and confused voices erupted from the amassing crowd of bodies as they circled and pressed in on the Shistavanen. Nyrys herself stood in the background, clutching a nearby console and trying to choke back tears from having to imagine her family this way. Her blade was ready to guard but she made no move to attack. She drowned the room in an even deeper quietude, one so heavy that you would have to strain to hear even shouting. Only the whispered question was permitted to be heard easily in the room.

 

((2))

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His eyes went misty as her words echoed through-out the fog, Mythos finding truth in her deceitful and misguided words as he thought back to Coruscant, to the days he spent upon it's cityscape, to his leaving, and what happened just a few weeks ago. He remembered that very moment as he sat within that distant Cantina and saw the horrific scenes of mass hysteria and people leaping from skyscrapers just to escape the engulfing flames, the scenes as looters and law enforcement alike fought it out just to grasp control over ships to escape, children trampled over. It was enough to make a two meter Shistavanen welp like a pup. But deep within, it was also enough to make his blood boil with the heat of a billion stars as he saw it unfold.

 

He opened his eyes, tears strolling across his fur lined snout and down his mawl as he heard her words finish. "Your people were no more different than those of Coruscant, innocent lives lost over selfish displays of power by those whom deem themselves above the law." He spoke, his voice even more choked by the memories that still haunted his mind, haunted his soul because he had not been there to protect them when they needed him most. "And like myself you weren't there to protect them, were you? We can both hide behind the false bravado that we were capable due to our absences. But the truth remains, we weren't there out of selfishness in the fact that we chose to follow our own paths instead of where they needed us."

 

Just as Mythos finished his words, shadows began to move about the crimson fog even as his misty eyes focused upon them, the Shistavanen gripping tight the hilt of his blade as he readied for their attack. But the grotesque figures that began to emerge horrified him in ways he had never felt before. His fur stood upon its ends, his skin crawled beneath, and a chill ran it's way down his spine that caused his form to tremble for the briefest of seconds. Quietly in his mind, he questioned: "Who are these beings? Kuat? Coruscant? Has this woman truly raised the dead to haunt me even more?"

 

Fear set in and Mythos, still gripping his blade, slowly began to back up as words and wailing echoed. Yet, he found himself encircled, unable to escape, as they began to enclose upon him from all directions. His hands trembled furiously, his mind scanning every possible avoidance to keep from engaging the dead. But with each passing second, they grew closer and closer upon him, and the nearest position above him laid too far away for even him to jump. And to make things worse, all he could hear were their constant echoing plea. Lowering his head, he shook it. He would not die this day, even to appease the dead and forgotten. Sliding his dominate foot backwards, Mythos readied his blade and pushed forward, tears flowing as he struck the closest foe before him in desperation, their question still preying upon his mind. "Why?"

 

But as he cleared the visage, Mythos mind could not comprehend the realization of the apparitions. Filled with mixed emotions, Mythos huffed, thankful that he did not cleave a truly undead being into, but angered that his opponent would have delved in such tactics. His shoulders slouched just a second before he raised them high and let resound a deafening howl in anger as the lost souls turned back toward him, the single question still echoing in his mind. "You call me coward, but you hide behind apparitions and sorcery rather than confronting me face to face. Have you no sense of honor?" He yelled out, hoping his opponent would hear. 

 

((2))

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((Duel between Jek Squall and Drago

 

As Jek Squall))

 

The hair on Jek's forearms bristled as his Force senses told him danger was fast approaching. Mere seconds later a Chiss leapt the impossible distance to the catwalk where Jek had taken position, clad in Echani armor adorned in Sith colors. The taint of the Dark Side was one Jek recognized, and immediately knew this was no normal adversary. Whirling, the Zabrak snapped off two shots from his blaster pistol, only to harmlessly splay across the Force Barrier his opponent had summoned.

 

As the Chiss began talking Jek's mind raced, he'd made a terrible decision attempting to seek shelter among the catwalks, as there was practically no cover. He was counting on the fact that the enemy wouldn't be able to follow, but of course with Sith on the battlefield Jek should have known better. It was time to improvise. 

 

"We are here to free someone. Someone you fight to keep imprisoned. Your attempts to cloud my mind will fail, as you will, Sith."

 

Jek spat the last word, remembering his last master, ruthlessly slain by a Sith long ago as he attempted to protect a Wookiee village against a rampaging Empire. Now, the Sith were their own entity, a cancer on the galaxy growing by the day. Jek would be the cure.

 

The Force is my ally, and a powerful ally it is.

 

Jek knew he needed to dive deeper into the station to make the best use of his training. Trusting in the Force, he once again hurled his lightsaber, guiding it in a wide arc behind the Sith to neatly cut the catwalk a few feet behind him. Meanwhile, Jek broke into a sprint for one of the open maintenance hatches near the wall of the hangar, nearly a hundred feet away. As he pulled the saber back to him, he kept his wits about him should the Sith attempt to pursue or send a projectile his way. Ideally, the catwalk should have fallen a bit under its own weight, but Jek didn't bother to wait and find out how well the catwalk was built.

((1))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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       Aleria fidgeted with the clasps that held her saber hilts while she settled into the assault shuttle, prepping her vac suit and listening to the verbal assault that Sanderson aimed at her and Kel for staying out too long. Once the last seal on her suit was complete, regardless of any protest, Aleria sat on the open metal floor amidst several standing soldiers, closed her eyes, and waited. Several moments drifted by. The smell of sweat was ever-present. But, with effort, Aleria managed to drown it out. The sounds of the soldiers talking started to fade. The sounds of booming concussive death machines that echoed through the steel all around them began to fade. Even the stubborn thoughts that rattled in her brain-pan began to fade as she breathed in and out. Once or twice Aleria was almost kicked by a jostling soldier, but she shifted her weight and managed to avoid the bulk of their incidental blows. She knew that there was no aggression. No. Everyone was waiting; waiting for the inevitable march; waiting for the trials ahead; waiting to see who would live and who would die, and waiting to see whether they would fail their objective. Even trained soldiers felt fear. Even trained soldiers felt apprehension. 

 

       But Aleria didn’t need that right now. She needed to focus. They wouldn’t find Raven if she couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to protect anyone if her nerves were a mess. The word protect sent tingles into the organic half of her body, signaling a phantom pain that still remained despite her prosthetic replacements. What would Roene say if he were here?


 

       Aleria was cold, sitting at the edge of the camp. It was weeks after the accident and her body had healed enough for her to move around but she still had no right arm and her depth perception was horrible. Trying to use the force was like driving a steel pike into her brain. It was terrible and parts of her wished she could just curl up and die. 

 

       The sound of movement stirred her fatalistic musings and she turned to find an old Cerean just at the edge of her perception. He wore an old brown robe that covered most of his body, but his undeniable cone head poked through the hood. 

 

       “You seem troubled.” He said, after a few moments of silence. 

 

Aleria didn’t respond.

 

       “Not going to speak, huh?” The Cerean continued.

 

Aleria stared out at the Borleias horizon.

 

       “Well, if you’re not going to talk then you can listen.” The Cerean sighed as he took a knee beside Aleria. “I was once like you, troubled and in pain. I lost something close to me and had no ready way of getting it back. I sat on the edge of life and frittered away my existence, worried if I would ever get back to the way I was before. Do you know what helped?” The Cerean waited as if Aleria would actually answer the question but kept talking when he was met with more silence.

 

       “Finding new things that I *could* do. Moving on from the woe and working with the skills I had to make something of my situation. It was the only way I could get past my loss.” 

 

       Aleria shifted uncomfortably, the pain in her arm splintering into something her brain couldn’t readily process. 

       “Well did you ever lose almost half of your body?” Aleria said, turning to face the old Cerean with a downcast expression. Bandages covered the right half of her body excluding her hip and leg. 

 

       The Cerean’s expression was soft. He placed his right hand on Aleria’s un-bandaged shoulder.

        “I can’t say what I lost was more egregious than you; a loss is a loss. The key is to learn how to use what you have. You aren’t a different person because you lost something. You might change your perception or change your training methods, but you’re who you are regardless of how much of you is missing. You just need to find a way to piece together what you have into a functional way of moving forward. And I can help.”

 

       Aleria tried to reach out with the force and touch the Cerean’s mind, to understand what he lost. She braved the searing pain as she delved back into the force only to find that the Cerean was a huge scorch mark. Where Jedi would normally see a conduit for the force or lack of one in a non-force user, the Cerean had a massive black spot. Aleria’s eyes widened and she choked back a tiny gasp. 

 

           “I take it by your expression you went prying into an old man’s business without his permission, eh?” The Cerean said, feigning an inquisitive eyebrow.

 

       Aleria’s face flushed and she buried her face in her unbandaged palm. 

       “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean, I wanted to…”

 

       The Cerean laughed, “it's alright. You’re welcome to look. One of the greatest assets a Jedi has is being able to see what others cannot; being able to sense the things around them. I can’t blame you for being curious. I can warn you its dangerous, but I have a feeling people have said that to you before. Now, something I learned while I could still touch the force is that you need to have a good grasp on the physical parts of your training. If you just focus on the spiritual stuff, you lose out on the physical conditioning and the rigors of a good combat regimen.”

 

       “But what does that have to do wit-” Aleria tried to interject.

 

       “-let me finish. Because you were so used to using the right part of your body, your left half was neglected. But even your left half can be as strong as your right if you train it to be. In the same way that your physical prowess can be as strong or stronger than your force powers. The key is to visualize what you want to achieve and go for it. So... how many one-armed push-ups can you do?” The Cerean finished, crooking his lips into a smile and unfurling his cloak to reveal that he too was missing a limb.

 

       Slowly letting the assault shuttle come back into focus Aleria smiled to herself. He had his own baggage, but he was a tough old alien.

 

       Aleria felt when the assault shuttle touched down. The entire cabin tensed. It was a palpable sensation that hung thick in the air. But she kept her head and body low to the ground. She tapped into the cold metal deck plating of the shuttle and extended her senses to what lay beyond. And although the force didn’t work like sonar or echolocation, it did give Aleria forewarning that they had a welcoming committee to contend with. She pushed through her feet to a standing position and walked over to Sanderson. He was dutifully trying to prep his men for their entrance and almost didn’t see her. When he turned to face her he wore a professional expression that seemed to mask something deeper. 

 

       “Well well well,” Sanderson started with a self-important hue to his imperious tone. “It seems you’ve finally decided to pay attention to the task at hand. We’ve been given our assignments and will be heading out in a few seconds. Get ready.”

 

       “Well, Commander, you should know-” Aleria tried.

 

       “What I should know is that you’re wasting valuable time.” Sanderson finished.

 

       “But there are toops-” Aleria tried, again.

 

       “Yes, there are troops waiting for my command. Now, if you would be so kind, please get to a ready position and await my command.” Sanderson finished with a derisive snort.

 

       “Yes, sir.” Aleria sighed with resignation.

 

       When the assault shuttle’s hatch began its opening procedures and the troops were just about to march into the station, a prickly sensation climbed up the base of Aleria’s skull. She heard a small hiss of exhaust as a mechanical projectile took to the stale recycled air and headed directly for the assault shuttle as the landing platform descended. The direction wasn’t certain, but she didn’t have time to debate the thought in her head. Aleria tumbled through the mess of troops between her and the slowly growing portal, pooled the force in her hands and then sent it outward. The bubble of force caught the opening beams of a blaster volley and sent one rocket careening harmlessly into the ceiling. Aleria continued by deflecting the remaining bolts of the opposition’s opening volley and scrambled to find cover along with Sanderson’s troops.

 

       The next few moments passed by quickly with a mess of red and green blaster fire as the troops filtered out of the shuttle and into the station. But Aleria still managed to raise her left eyebrow at Sanderson as if to say, I told you so.

 

 

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With her enemy making no effort to press her, Darth Nyrys was able to collect herself from the self inflicted trauma of the emotional attack and skulk closer. The way of the assassin was very different from her warrior roots, turning strength into weakness rather than directly measuring strength against strength. One was more suited towards bettering the galaxy, the other towards bettering herself, both were important.

 

Darth Nyrys heard all of the marshal’s words, but would not be baited out prematurely, or breach operational security to point out that she had been on Mandalore to intercept the Crusaders, only leaving when the Dark Lord had called his banners to respond to this latest rebel atrocity. Instead, she gathered her rage, her sorrow, and her pain in a deep inhaling breath, focused that energy into a weapon, and upon closing a good deal of the distance, released it along with ending her sound dampening illusion in a Dark Side infused banshee cry. Her intention was to turn the Shistaven’s acute hearing against him, maybe even rupturing his eardrums and ruining his balance. The near silence that she had been permeating through the hangar from the start of the fight was like sharpening the blade of this attack to a razor’s edge. The energy itself carried a great deal of negative emotions, and the terror on Dark Sun Station was coalescing enough that Nyrys could tap into it for additional power.

 

Pushing the offensive, Nyrys followed the shout with a series of thrusting strikes with Brathiad Gwynt. Fear and anger would make the necrosis from any successful strikes course through the marshal’s veins. The sword’s cursed blade blazed with green flame upon hearing yet another excuse for the rebellion’s murderous actions as it was driven forward. Her strikes were practiced and meticulous, capitalizing on her greater blade length advantage and more melee oriented armor.

 

"I showed up when my people needed me, that's why I'm here today.  To stop monsters too self righteous to realize what they are doing is wrong, like you."

 

((Nyrys vs Mythos 3))

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Orders

 

The Admiral and grand general of the Felix Legions considered her padawan’s request with something akin to a mix of eagerness and bloodlust. Death was all around them now, every millisecond she could feel a life snuffed out in its prime. The Hunger was all consuming. It made her mouth water with every death. 

 

“There are Jedi trying to rescue their toy empress on board the glorified bank called Dark Sun. We will make a channel for you and yours. Follow the bloodlust and take some troops with you. Find a Jedi and kill him or her for me. Bring the head and you will find reward.” 

 

She put a hand gingerly on his shoulder.

 

Do the Dark Lord proud and he will not forget you. And nor will I.” 

 

What next she said was only to him. 


Take what provisions you need and leave with the troops, some five thousand will be leaving from the hanger in a few minutes. You have my trust. May the force be with you. 

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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Silence... it was as foreboding as it was welcomed, the lingering apparitions still plaguing his mind with their cringing question. Yet, despite his fear of them and their lingering presence, he knew them to not be real. Still, it didnt make his nerves settle any bit easier. Clinching his blade, his ears twitched as he tried to drown out the hauntings and focus upon his hidden opponent as his gaze shifted about. He hated waiting, but with the enemy he faced, it was likely the smartest. Huffing, he remembered why he hated Mystics and their beloved Force. Too many mind games and damn near impossible to defend against.

 

No longer than that thought crossed his mind, did the Sith before him only prove his point as the most disappeared along with the dead as a wailing cry pierce his mind. His vision doubled as his ears fell to protect themselves beneath the mask he adorned, the Marshal's gaunleted hands reaching upward to protect his hearing out of natural instinct just as her volley of attacks began. For most, the cry was damaging enough, and for Mythos, it nearly incapacitating as it threatened to nearly tear his mind from his skull even with his many years dealing with sonic weapons. But despite this, maybe out of sheer luck or natural instinct of years being stuck in tough spots, Mythos was still capable of react swiftly enough through the garbled thoughts and piercing pain to block some her attacks. He could only describe the moment as being a boxer on the verge of being knocked out, yet his body taking the years of training to still dodge a few of the persistent blows.

 

For those that missed, it was only noticable by the sparkling scraps of metal against metal. For others, it was sheer luck that leather kept the blade from slicing flesh. But a few did manage to graze and even pierce his fur and flesh, sending his mind deeper into confusion and strife as the unbalanced gravity of deafness began to wane upon his conscious. Emotions were useless at this moment in time as he struggled to simply evade, let alone a plan of action being able to formulated within his mind. And in that very instance, Mythos managed to bring forth a singular thought to his mind. It was that of his end, in this very moment, an opponent of higher caliber besting him as his mind began to succumb to that final thought. 

 

Yet, Mythos refused to go down quietly, a part of him refusing to give up this fight. The Marshal within him knew that this was very likely his end, his heart knowing it to be almost utter truth. Yet the Hunter within found its self to be backed into a corner and ready for that last moment of voraciously in battle. Instinct would be his greatest weapon in the seconds that followed as he reached out with his free hand, her words fell upon his deaf ears, and grasped at her as he slung his shoulder into her blade, gripping at her her form and attempting to draw it closely to his as his bladed hand assumingly reached to quench the blades thirst where her breastplate and greaves met. It was in that moment that his final act was to take her with him into the afterlife should he perish this day. "If I go, so shall you."

 

((3))

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((Bruce Slaughter))

 

"Pedal to the metal, boys! Stop for nothing!" The commander of Geist Squadron cried over the din of laser blasts and missiles, slightly delirious from having his need for speed fulfilled. Having served for years in reconaissance without having the tension of infiltration break, the adrenaline rush of plunging into the confusion of a furball and being pursued by dozens of enemy fighters left him in a state of almost drunken intoxication even as the A-Wings were blasted away by the full might of Black Sun's starfighter cadre. After they blew through the initial screen of XJX-Wings, they returned fire to the rear with their gimballed laser cannons, but their goal was to disrupt the opposing snubfighter screen and to swarm over the Silent Spring and Red Hussar.

 

Few of the A-Wings made it to their targets, however. That was enough. Given even a few seconds without molestation by enemy fighters and the irksome jamming arrays carried by the ARC-170s, the Galactic Alliance K-Wings launched salvoes of concussion missiles into the confusion, pounding at the Black Sun corvettes and the disarrayed fighters. The Audacity and Surprise moved to intercept the Rhoads and Canto Bight Fiasco. The swift DP20 Gunships nearly cut off the larger Nebulon-B, but a triad of warheads made it through the antimissile fire of the Surprise and severed its tubular hull from her engines. As though both sides were unaware of the amputation, the turbolasers on the hull fired a few isolated blasts into the Canto Bight Fiasco before finally going dark and her engines rocketed away in an unpredictable spin before going critical and exploding into a miniature nova.

 

Little remained of the Surprise after the explosion.

 

Audacity faired significantly better, in terms that it managed to survive for a few more seconds than her sister ship. Similarly stricken by warheads on its attack run, half of the ship went dark and was left without shields or weapons. In a desperate attempt to remain alive for a few seconds longer, the DP20 Gunship nestled up against Canto Bight Fiasco and exposed her crippled flank to the connecting spar of the Nebulon-B Frigate. The Audacity might inflict almost no damage to the larger frigate, but she was in little danger from the enemy ship’s turbolasers.

 

On the bridge of the Steadfast, Slaughter watched with dismay as the next barrage of turbolaser fire withered away his flagship’s bow shields, then finally penetrated and hammered against her armor. Most of the emerald fire peeled away at armor plating or blasted unoccupied compartments into space, but a lucky hit found its mark at her number one turbolaser battery--the same location that had only recently been patched over after Coruscant--and blew apart its magazine, tearing the turrets from their mountings from within and venting huge quantities of ammunition into space. For a horrifying second, nearly a third of the MC90 Cruiser and the Incisor were illuminated by red-orange fire when a late-arriving turbolaser blast flash-ignited the entire cloud of tibanna.

 

“Vent decks four and five, seal all bulkheads between--” While the XO called out the orders to seal the internal compartments that supplied ammunition to a quarter of the ship, Slaughter glared into his tactical overlay and picked out the icon of the Rhoads.

 

Kalidor, on our starboard. Energize tractors and grab that ship.”

 

Sublights blazing in blue-white flame as the entire squadron made a mad dash for Dark Sun Station, the Majestic-class Heavy Cruiser on the flagship’s flank pummeled the hammerhead corvette with a barrage of turbolaser, ion cannon, and torpedo fire. As the GA Cruisers neared, both ships reached out with their tractor beam emplacements and attempted to wrangle the lighter ship into a position where it would serve as a shield over the most severe hull breaches on the Steadfast.The flagship might not last much longer at close range, but the other MC90 cruiser was nearly undamaged and the supporting cruisers Phalanx and Kalidor had yet to be rebuffed by the Black Sun fleet. Still closing, Steadfast and Fidelity transferred their fire to the Red Hussar, hammering both flanks with their turbolasers.

 

At the joint with the Jedi fleet, the sublight engines of Misericordia dimmed and nearly went dark, puttering with a tender cerulean glow. Her vast prow angled just slightly beyond the overwhelming hull of the encroaching Scarab, the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer made a minor course correction… then ceased maneuvers, instead diverting all power to her frontal shields and weapons. All power made available to her batteries, the first salvo against The Bleeding Kyber was of ultimate intensity, beyond what could be expected even from a ship of her class. She would trade blows with the Sith armada until released from her position, she ran out of targets… or she ran out of guns.

 

Summary:

Surprise is dead. Audacity takes severe damage and attempts to take shelter against a lightly-armed portion of the Canto Bight Fiasco’s hull.

A-Wings take significant casualties and disperse throughout the Black Sun formation, attempting to punch through and make strafing runs on Red Hussar and Silent Spring.

Steadfast’s shields are breached by focused fire and loses a number of turbolaser batteries before they are replenished. Steadfast and Kalidor attempt to grab Rhoads with tractor beams and hold the ship near the most severe hull breach.

Fire is focused on Red Hussar.

Misericordia focuses fire on The Bleeding Kyber.

 

((3))

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Mordecai nodded gravely. He had barely left training, and already he was tasked with killing a Jedi. As much as he'd liked to have lied to himself, tell himself it would be nothing, he knew the task was no small one. Not for him, at least. Regardless, he motioned for a nearby squad to follow him to his personal dropship.

 

"It will be done, my lord." he said, turning and heading towards the ship.

 

Once on board, the troopers in their seats, he seated himself in the pilot's chair. He didn't trust anybody but himself to fly them through that battle out there, even if Lord Valinor had assured him they'd make an opening. The shuttle lifted, and launched out of the hanger at his command, falling in directly behind a squadron of fighters. Ahead, he could see the hellish area that swarmed with the bulk of the fighters. And to get to the station, he'd have to fly right through it.

 

His comms beeped, and with the push of a button a voice spoke.

 

"Just fly right through it, my lord. We'll keep anyone who tries to stop you busy."

 

He nodded, though the motion was mostly to himself. "Very well. Good luck."

 

With that, he flew into the hornet's nest. All around him was chaos. Death and destruction permeated here, and e reveled in it. However, this skirmish was not his goal. He put the transport into a dive to avoid a hostile fighter, followed by a hard bank to the left to avoid a torpedo not meant for him. A few lasers hit the shields, but the aggressor had to pull away as several Sith fighters swarmed it.

 

A few moments later, and they were through. All that lay between him and the station now was the blackness of space. He landed in the hanger, watching as a Jedi assault shuttle bore into a nearby section of the hull. He sneered. The Jedi. He stalked out of the transport, the squad already disembarked. They had taken fire when he landed, but the few troops inside seemed to have been dispatched by the squad.

 

"Stay here. Wait for the rest of the troops. Keep this hanger secure."

With that, he departed the hanger.

It was time to hunt a Jedi.

Edit: Continuity error, dropships changed to assault shuttles

Edited by Mavanger

 

 

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Duel Between Jek Squall and Drago

 

The Jedi was angry, or at least appeared to be.  The blaster shots were expected if somewhat pointless.  Drago could not remember there being a mention of hostage but then again between his research and training he had lost track of all that was truly involved in the battle raging outside.  No matter, the foe before him seemed to not be inclined to speak and that was fine with him, if slightly disapointing.   

 

The light sabre throw was an impressive technique, and attacking the terrain itself caused him to believe his foe may be more tactical then he thought after exposing himself in the cat walk.  With his movement already having been enhanced catching up to the Jedi would pose no problem, but catching up was not the only solution.   His mind quickly calculated a course of action. Step one will simply be to propel myself forward to stable area of cat walk, followed by a small release of force no larger then a fist in 4 strategic places along the jedis body, first being the back of the right knee, followed by lower back and finally two consecutive hits to the sides of the Jedi's head to discombobulate.  If all the blows land, move forward and attempt to disarm.  Should subject remain mobile or in combat condition use heightened physical aspect to not strike the jedi but pass by and block apparent desitnation.  The plan formulated in less then a second.  His analytical mind put to good use he sprung into action.

 

This was going to be an interesting fight, he wondered as he lauched his series of events what the outcome would be.  However there was no time to calculate those outcomes, now there was only the foe before him and a question that needed to be answered.

 

Post 1

Edited by Kellanderos
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Breathe. Focus.

 

Both of Aleria's pale lavender blades bloomed to life as another volley was loosed by the assault shuttle's welcoming committee. A small smile played briefly across Aleria's lips as her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Adrenaline surged under the spray of chromatic plasma in the air. The excitement and thrill of the moment built within her despite the growing noise that echoed all around her. Aleria knew it wasn't a game; war was never a game. But action - blood pumping, sweat inducing, ridiculously daring action - was something Aleria enjoyed. The thrill of life was never so real as when it could end at any moment. And oddly enough, being a Jedi, fueled that sensation even more. Jedi didn't believe in death as anything but another part of life. Why be afraid of something that comes to everyone in the end when you can enjoy what you have while you have it?

 

Up. Down. Left. Left. Left. Flip. Right. Dodge.

 

Every step and every deflection was methodical. Like a dancer with very intentional glides, Aleria followed every cold chill of her danger sense. Prickly fingers tickled the base of her skull, moving her this way and that to avoid taking a full shot to any body part in particular. But she had her fair share of damage. She came away with singe marks in her robes, a burn on her left shoulder, and several meaty scorch marks on her prosthetic parts. It was nothing a good bit of attention couldn't fix. 

 

Before the next volley, Aleria scrambled behind a few crates to gain cover from the incoming Black Sun troops. And although the height of battle was raging in her ears, she could feel something more sinister further in. Sith had boarded the Dark Sun station. There was nothing she could do about it from here, considering the Sith she felt were gathering a fair distance away and she was contending with grunts and trying to help both Kel and Sandy. But she readied herself and kept aware of any changes to make sure the Sith didn't catch them by surprise. 

 

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((As Jek Squall))

 

The instant before it happened, Jek knew to expect it. Even with the Force alerting him to the danger, however, he had no way to tell what exactly was going to happen or how it would take place. The four telekinetic punches landed true, toppling him forward and leaving his head ringing, as well as knocking his lightsaber . It was exactly the kind of move Jek might have pulled were their roles reversed. Of course, this was a game two could play. 

 

As expected, his foe attempted to close the distance, knowing that Jek was seeking a tactical advantage by moving out of the open. He would either attempt to attack here, or cut off the escape route. He would be denied both. Jek reached back, summoning as nasty a Force blast as he could near his enemy's side, aiming to send the other careening off the edge of the catwalk. It was a stall tactic at best, but it would buy valuable time.

 

As Jek rose, he realized the Sith's strikes had done more than simply knock him over and disoriented him, his lightsaber was no longer on his person. He was unsure where it landed, but had more important things to worry about. Doing his best to focus on the Force and allowing it to guide him, he continued his charge forward, the safety of the maintenance hatch now mere feet ahead.

 

((2))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Duel Ruling: Mythos vs. Darth Nyrys

 

I'm not going to lie, at the outset of this I put easy money on the Sith. I expected it to be a lot less of an even fight than it absolutely was, and it's a testament to both of you as writers that you respected each other enough to write it on more even grounds and with a very close finish. You both should be proud of yourselves for this fight, it shows a level of maturity few reach.

 

That being said, let's move onto the analysis. In the first two posts, Nyrys begins weaving an Assassin illusion in the form of a thick fog, and lashes out at Mythos, catching him in the arm with a shallow cut. Mythos in return fires a quick but blind shot with his scattergun, managing to hit Nyrys in the shoulder, damaging her armor. It's important to note here that Nyrys's sword causes necrosis in wounds, but this is a slow moving effect, similar to a fast-moving brown recluse bite (imagine the necrosis over minutes to a couple hours as opposed to days, long enough to mostly be a factor after the duel if I remember correctly, but not a major one during it).

 

The next two posts were mostly uneventful combat wise, however they were incredibly well written. The major thing to note is Mythos's mental state, as well as Nyrys suppressing the noise in the area, in preparation for her final post.

In the final post Nyrys finally goes on an all-out offensive, combined with a Force augmented banshee scream that is effective in disorienting Mythos enough that several of her strikes begin to break through his defenses. However, Mythos goes for the sacrifice play Rob Roy style, willingly taking a hit to the shoulder in order to close to lethal distance for the coup de gras. A very effective ending, easily resulting in both combatant's blades stuck in each other. Do they both die? Does someone walk away the victor? Who is that handsome masked man, anyway?

 

Based on the attacks already made, as well as the capabilities of both combatants at the end of the duel, Nyrys is still in a much stronger position to simply survive the encounter, mostly due to her Sith Amulet / heart made from a Krayt Dragon Pearl. The best shot Mythos has at actually doing damage at this close range is to go for the heart or lungs, which he has to get through a breastplate of Sith Steel to do. As he was attempting to close the distance past that of a solid swing, I'm going to assume the final attack Mythos makes is a lunging/piercing one. The best hope he has is to hit her femoral artery, and even then through pressure applied via the Force Nyrys is still expected to walk or limp away from this requiring no more than a paramedic's assistance to get her back to stable conditions.

Winner: Darth Nyrys

 

2nd edit: You guys determine between yourselves what outcome you determine is fair.

Edited by Ary the Grey

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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The blows had landed, and to his silent relief the Jedi had toppled forward and his weapon had flown from his hand.  "I am not in the mood to kill you, if you stand down and speak with me perhaps we can make a deal."  It was foolish to attempt to speak during combat but his intellectual desire to learn made him at least attempt it.  It was only a split second before he realized what was about to happen.  He gathered a shield of force as quickly as he could but it only deflected the blow slightly.  The blast was massive, far greater then he would have thought the disoriented Jedi could have mustered.  His shield kept him from being thrown completely off the cat walk, instead he bent the railing out greatly and had to grip it strongly with one hand to keep from falling.  That may have even broken a rib or two.  Steeling his mind he decided that attacking the Jedi, while a good idea might not be the best course of action.

Step One, strike the lock by the maintenance hatch as hard as possible with a concussive blast of force to disable it, step two reorient myself and gather force into a minor barrier while building up my strength.  Step three using light sabre approach Jedi in the Echani form of combat and wound in a minor fashion, minor blow to ribs or shoulder should suffice.

The force gathered and performed his actions as expected but he was unsure how the light sabre blow would land, this Jedi was tricky and he was already impressed by their fighting spirit.  The unarmed Jedi had just reached the hatch area, there was no time to lose, hopefully this fight would end without the Jedi's death, but if necessary he could attempt to learn things from their belongings and corpse.

 

((Post 2))

Edited by Kellanderos
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| Capital Ship Group |

 

The relentless shelling of the enemy capital group had done its job, and the outnumbered Black Sun Armada was slowly letting the fleet through their layered defenses. Trading space for time. Time the Blood Prince was using effectively. He had left the station with the empress literally defenseless, instead allowing the Alliance to waste resources in assisting their invasion while he and his ships concentrated on their flagships. There were heavy losses to contend with however and the casualty counts began to scroll never endingly across the display panels at the TAC planning station. 

 

Sariel's Judgement, the proud Victory Star Destroyer was bleeding from a thousand cuts as its crew rushed to strengthen shields. That is until the dying volley from the Adi-Wan splashed through the shields and cut deep into the angular bow. Decking curled like a rose’s petals to the power of the proton torpedo volley. Shattering the nose of the mighty ship and snuffing out two hundred lives as the front third of the ship suffered catastrophic loss of oxygen from the raging fire that began to spread through the ship. Flames billowed out of bucked armoured plating and the power failed throughout the ship as the core began an emergency shutdown as its coolant supply was severed. Evacuations of surviving crew began as the emergency power was restored and the ship’s concussion missile batteries fired a return volley, emptying the magazine stores in several seconds before the guns and the launchers fell forever silent. The black shattered dagger that once was a proud ship of the line, now merely a wreck of debris, leaking oxygen and bodies into the void of space. It was now simply a barrier that would slow the allied advance.

 

Still, it was a good trade to the Blood Prince. The delaying action of the Victory had essentially cost the Jedi Order its prized capital ship, and now they would do the same to the Galactic Alliance. The Red Hussar was relatively unscathed by the battle prior, and adjusted its shield array to address the incoming fire from the damaged Steadfast and the Turbolasers of the Fidelity. It wouldn’t last forever, as the strain on the shields would eventually batter them down, but it would hold for now. And now was all they needed. The ion cannons, turbolasers, and concussion missile launchers of the two remaining Victories focused in earnest at the approaching Steadfast. The Allied ships were blazing ahead towards the station which meant that they would be entering the last point of defense. Where each ship would be exposed to the entire firepower of Star Destroyers and Victory Star Destroyers from point blank range. THe vessels crept their aim to narrowly avoid the tiny corvette that was seemingly captured by the cruisers flanking the damaged MC90. Their shots aiming for the damaged section and hammering away at the shields of the mighty calamari cruiser. The capitals were nearly in point blank range, and the Two much larger Star Destroyers, Mephistopheles and Holofernes which were totally untouched in the battle, now sank into their deadly work. Their deadly armament now pumping round after round into the Steadfast. 

 

Without the duel corvettes to hamper her missile paths, the St Cathryne fell alongside the Red Hussar and Silent Spring. Launching its heavy siege torpedoes at the entire length of the Steadfast in an effort to bring the shields entirely down, which if they did fail, the combined armament of the fleet would tear the Alliance’s pride and joy to melted chunks of durasteel. The smaller laser batteries that covered the bulbous hull of the St Cathryne beginning to churn away at the swarm of remaining A-Wings and K-Wings that were assaulting the two victory Star Destroyers. 

 

While the Rhodes was trapped by the competing  tractor beams of the Alliance Cruisers, She was not totally defeated. Her engines flared as she wrestled with the tractor beams. The upgraded thruster package striving to break free, while the command and control companies bled power away from the shields to boost power to the engines. The fire teams dumping missiles and laser fire at the all too close Steadfast with her crippled decking. Compared to the Steadfast she was nearly ten times smaller, but her crew did not falter. Slowly spinning the damaged Rhoades to present the slimmest target to her allies. Allowing their shots to clear her bow and reducing her effectiveness as an impromptu shield. 

 

The Canto Bight Fiasco continued to struggle on, its few turbolasers firing away as her hull began to buckle. She was having trouble staying in the fight, especially as the Jedi order weighed into the fight with their bombers. Her 12 Borstel RH8 laser cannons, blasted away at the fragile bombers but soon her turbolasers fell silent as well as the power was switched to the shields in a futile effort to survive. Her partner in crime, Totenkopf II did her best to mount a valiant defense of the Nebulon with her anti starfighter guns, both concentrating on the bombers and the hiding crippled gunship. But both captains knew it would only be a matter of time until the old ship was broken like a toothpick. 

 

Summary

Victory Star Destroyer Sariel's Judgement is lost. 

Star Destroyers Mephistopheles and Holofernes concentrate on the wounded Steadfast

Victory Star Destroyers Red Hussar and Silent Spring concentrate fire on the approaching Steadfast. While Red Hussar rotates shields to absorb incoming fire. 

Canto Bight Fiasco is heavily damaged while continuing fire on Audacity and attacking Jedi bombers. Totenkopf II assists

Rhodes is trapped but maneuvers to avoid becoming an outright shield for the Steadfast. While dumping missiles and lasers towards the damaged area of the Steadfast 

St. Cathryne falls back beside the Victory Star Destroyers and continues to launch siege torpedoes and turbolasers at the Steadfast while its smaller guns engage the GA K-Wings. 

 

| Starfighter \ Fighter Bomber Group |

 

The ARC’s took light casualties. Their beautiful ships spun and twirled through space as they formed back into an effective  wing. With the A-Wings decimated, a few of the precious jamming ships were turned into yellow orange explosions by the Alliance K-Wing’s concussion missiles. The ARCs and Black Sun K-Wings responded in kind, a few missiles streaking out after the fleeing K-Wings. With the majority of the threat to the ARC-s dispersed, the A-wings went into full afterburner and rocketed towards the GA Kwings as they reached the Red Hussar. Launching streaks of missiles as they got into cannon range.  The XJs reformed under the ARC jamming field and dove towards the approaching Jedi fighters, launching missiles from behind jamming cover as the command and control teams onboard the untouched Marie continued to direct the hectic Starfighter battle. Their heavy sensor sweeps giving pinpoint precision to their commands. The Kwings, the few of them that remained began their bombing runs against the Alliance capital ship Steadfast

 

Summary:

The entire starfighter wing engages the A-Wings. 

The K-Wings engaged the capitals supporting the GA fighters from range. 

 

| Dark Sun Defensive Group |

 

The Station was truly in dire straights as the boarding parties landed. The station’s resistance would be tough, but it was a losing battle, and Black Sun troops fell back to defensive positions around the citadel and the prison level. E-webs were set up, shields prepared, and the station commander sat in the Empress’s cell. Roughly holding the young woman on his lap, with a carbine leveled to the back of her skull. 

 

With enough Ion cannon blasts, the stations power array failed. Plunging banks and casinos into darkness and sealing all the bulkhead doors.

 

((3))

 

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Ca'Aran

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The lightsabre thrummed away, its silver blade leaving the smell of ozone in its wake as it batted way a short stream of laser bolts back towards where they had come from in the now dark hanger. Sandy let her presence touch all around her, feeling their fear, darkness, joy, anger. Letting it flow through her live a sieve identifying every presence through their emotions. Her eyes were blinded by the sudden dark but her blade kept up its spin to cover the storm of troops rushing behind her and Aidan. She motioned to Kel and brought the blade up to reflect another blast before she sprang past Aleria and bounded into the E-Web emplacement. A swing of the blade in a brilliant arc and the emplacement went silent. As did three presences. 

 

The beachhead had been secured at least for now. She flashed a grin at the trio of Kel, Aleria, and Aidan before she made her way for the door towards the security level.

 

There was a battle to be had, and she would have it. She ignored the pain in her shoulder and wiped at her forehead with a green sleeve. 

 

"You guys coming?" 

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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when the shuttle landed in the dark sun station Kel sparked up his his saber pistol's bright green blade and leapt into action alongside his fellow Jedi. as the battle progressed Kel used his saber to deflect incoming blasts while methodically working his way to adequate cover spots and providing supporting fire. since the model 6 he integrated into his saber was more suited for firing stun blasts, he used that function to provide openings for the troops as well incapacitating anyone foolish enough to fire at himself and his jedi comrades.

 

Eventually the beachhead was secured and we made our way to the entrance of the security level. before opening the door, his master rhetorically asked if they were coming along. 

 

"As if you even had to ask."

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((As Jek Squall))

 

I am One with the Force and the Force is with me. I am One with the Force and the Force is with me. I am One with the Fo-

 

A sudden surge of pain jolted up Jek's back as his opponent renewed his onslaught, catching him in a nasty slash that ran from his left shoulder down his ribcage. The blow itself wasn't meant to seriously injure or kill, but it certainly disabled the Zabrak, as Jek once again fell to his knees from the pain. 

 

I am...One...with the Force...

 

The mantra, taught to him by his late master, repeated in his thoughts as Jek struggled to focus. He had one last move, one last ace up his sleeve to potentially catch the Sith off guard and survive this battle. He could already tell the door ahead was fused shut, a well-timed application of the Dark Side crippling its locking mechanism shut.

 

...and the Force...is with me.

 

Jek calmly held his right palm out, reaching out through the Force to find the item he'd lost, the one life line that was his final authority as a Jedi. Knowing it very well by its feel through the Force, it took no time at all for Jek to locate his weapon. The lightsaber ripped up through the fog below, arcing towards the Sith's back, and past the Sith, his hand. If the Sith was so focused on Jek, then it might catch him off guard, crippling him enough to allow Jek to either escape or finish his opponent with a quick coup de gras.

 

The Force is with me.

 

This was it. It was all or nothing.

((3))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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3.

 

The haunt of the powerful Sith Armada shored the distance to their scurrying prey, slowing as they closed in on them from above. Five formidable vessels formed an electrifying wreath around the gargantuan Scarab, each of them resetting their attack positions whenever they fell into the crosshairs of an enemy craft. The Bleeding Kyber would be the first to endure the ire of the insurrectionist scum, attempting to run emergency maneuvering while being completely engrossed by a furious shelling from the Misericordia, the face of a new threat. The shields took an inflated pounding, while the broadside of the Kyber lit up in vivid color. The peculiar ISD-II ate the rainshower of batteries, and the skin of the vessel seemed to burn with a hue of anguish. All power was partitioned between mobility and shielding, realigning the distressed Destroyer to that of the stationary Misericordia. The decline in shielding was undoubtedly accelerated by the desperation of the enemy, and so the crew doubled over their efforts before they were torn to shreds. There was an eerie calm to the men and women aboard the twisted Kyber however, even as the bombardment began to puncture the chassis of the vessel and wipe scores of exterior weapon placements clean from the surface. Smaller sections of the Kyber destabilized and were immediately voided of life, but the ship aligned regardless of the surge. It was not particularly a calm that befell the enormous crew of the Kyber, but a tempered insanity in which was rooted from the Hutt Master it now belonged to. The meat of the power behind the vessel loaned itself to the failing defensive systems, but now the engines roared to life, preparing to jump right through the new challenger. 


 

As the Bleeding Kyber fell from formation, realigning with the gallant Misericordia, the rest of the assault fleet moved forward. While escape crafts poured from the Adi-Wan, the offensive yielded their acceleration and fanned out like a daunting black lotus. The full force of each and every starfighter dedicated to this operation, accompanied by the swift might of both frigates and both gunships, engaged the dying Adi-Wan as well as all rescue or fighter craft in the area.

 

 

- Kyber is overwhelmed, realigning to jump through target, or melt while trying to keep alive.

- All others engage their defeated target. Will leave once this thing is over.

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The motion of the Jedi's hand made it abundently clear he was doing something with the force, he could sence it and almost see the lines of force.  At the last momen he realized what was happening and dodged to the side as a light sabre flew by grazing his ribs and leaving a furrow in his side.  It was a clever move using a weapon that seemed lost and it had nearly killed him.  Even as the Jedi's blade cut into his flesh he twisted out of his dodge and lunged at the Jedi striking out with his sabre at the enemy before him.  Science would have to wait, getting answers from a Jedi to try to understand their beliefs would have to wait, all that mattered now was finishing this.  The Jedi's devotiong to the belief that all Sith are evil and must be destroyed made communication impossible.  

Strike three times using the echani fencing style followed by a heavy blow in the thrysian style.  If any blows are blocked follow up with a concussive blast of force to through enemy off the cat walk alive or dead.

Allowing his body to flow into his prefered fighting forms he lashed out 4 times with his light sabre and then simply released the force sheild he had been trying to maintain as blast of force indtending to toss the jedi out into empty space from the cat walk.  The fight was not going as he had hoped but the time had come to move past this Jedi and assist his master in her plans if he could.

 

((Post 3))

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The brutish marshal, underestimating the wickedness of her blade, intentionally let it bite deep into his shoulder and seized her with his free hand, lifting her up to skewer her with his scimitar. Pain brought back memories of the crucible, and her daily torments there. It was a sacrifice vindicated by her ability to function in spite of overwhelming pain. In the marshal’s feverish attempt to kill her, he failed to notice the state of his arm. The flesh beneath the fur bubbled and festered with unnatural speed, and when the pus filled bubbles popped, they revealed vacant craters where flesh used to be. The failing arm collapsed through sheer putrefaction before he could go fishing for vital organs, and she slid off his blade and back onto her feet.

 

A spinning kick to the marshal’s groin doubled him over, and a solid right hook to the head knocked the man unconscious. She whistled for deck security, and ordered them to secure and stabilize what was left of her opponent, after taking a selfie with the incapacitated opponent and sending it to the Dark Lord. She would just as soon kill him and end his suffering, but her apprentice might want samples for his studies and various… projects. For her own part, she left a deeply ingrained mental scar, engraving the illusion of her dead family on his mind.

 

While the wound was not immediately terminal, it was certainly leaking a great deal more than she would like. Fortunately, the good marshal had brought snacks with him, in the form of a squad of Galactic Alliance marines. She perused their catatonic forms before finding one that looked extra appealing, and ordered security to take the rest away. Her apprentice hadn’t finished yet with the Jedi, so she took her six pack snack pack to a secluded part of the bay and started consuming his body and soul, while his mind was enveloped with a sweet fiction. Occasionally, brief millisecond flickers of fragments of reality would break through, but surely this was better than dying to a blaster bolt or getting disemboweled by a cursed blade? 

 

Maybe her manwich wasn’t the only one enveloped in a sweet fiction…

 

But as she consumed him, she felt undeniably better, both in terms of her wound and her internal self. Acts of predation had always had a natural ease and appeal to her. Growing up, she had written it off as getting even with xenophobic snobs that made her life hell, but now she had to wonder if it was something else. Was the night her nature, and if so, what did that mean? She had studied a lot of religions at uni for her major, and a constant was a necessary darkness. If she was to be a righteous devil, what devilry would truly nourish her soul?

 

((3-day Capture and release on Mythos)) 

 

     

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Ruling: Jek vs Drago 

 

There are multiple factors in this duel that I have weighed and considered. From the beginning, Jek gave up/lost position throughout the entirely duel, but fought back with enough clarity that it's almost a full on honorable mention. Positioning wise, Jek lost. 

 

However, some factors I also considered on this is also the amount of energy spent/used by Drago along with the display of the Force. For the most part, I was okay with many of the actions took by Drago, up until that final post. I strongly believe that sensing the lightsaber and the dodging of it are fully within means, but since stated Drago was attempting to maintain a Force shield, the very act of the lightsaber glancing the ribs would render all other movement after the fact unbelievable. At least when it comes to the actions taken in Drago's post. 

 

Because of those factors, I could not give a victory to Drago- yet- I still don't believe the Jek is in a position to have won the duel either.

 

Therefore my ruling is: DRAW

 

I believe that Jek would be left hurt from the blows from Drago prior to the lightsaber striking Drago in the side. Upon the strike, all other actions have been nulled out and both players may go from there. Next post belongs to Jek. 

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The group had traveled far enough into the station that Tobias had them stop. Looking back, he discovered that of the 52 warriors that followed him into battle, there were only around 30 that had followed him this far. The six barabel had left his group first thing, two others were dead, three had been injured and retreated back to the shuttle- exchanging the guard along the way so the injured were closer to their escape craft than the healthy ones. That left ten others who were guarding specific points along their path into the station, covering the escape route to the black. 

 

With a nod and a hand gesture at the floor, the team scrambled into action. Four moved further down the hallway from the rear sentries and started to pull anything they could from the rooms connected to the hallway. The defense Black Sun had put up was weak at first, but no doubt with the arrival of the Sith, plus the enemy actually knowing where the Jedi and their forces were, they would start to attack en masse. Ergo why they were now constructing simple barricades.They would have to re-enforce this area, dropping down level to level and eviscerating the forces standing in their way. 


 

Tobias took a moment and checked in with the status of the fleet, letting Tom check in with the shuttles. The news wasn’t good from them, but after exchanging information related to the shuttles, that was exponentially better. 

 

Five-Five had discharged their warriors and were engaging the security level of the casino. Five had been killed, but the distraction was vital to balancing the odds to the Jedi’s side.  

 

Other shuttle squads were softly engaging the forces within the station, the bait and ambush strategy was working well. 

 

The Barabels were ripping through staff throughout the station, well, on the levels down to the prison level. 

 

All throughout the briefing Vos toyed with a thermal detonator, inactive of course, but he left his eyes drift with the Force-guided motion of the explosive. 

 

He sighed, the expression hidden from his crew, they had lost 30 warriors all together. Finally he got the signal that the crews setting up all the barricades. Reaching out to sense what was directly below them, he let it play out in his mind- the flash grenade, the entrance, the death, the repetition.

 

A blue-green light filled the corridor, a snap hiss echoed up and down the hallway. Tipping the blade into the floor he cut a beveled section out. It settled into its new position as he pulled his saber out of the floor. Using the Force he pulled it up and out, Tom dropping the flash grenade down, Tobias setting down the floor away from the hole, flash grenade detonating, Tom dropping down, Tobias dropping down, three bodies fell into pieces around Tom, two around Tobias. 

 

Other warriors followed them down, and the cycle continued for another six levels, each time moving the place where they made the bevel. The warriors were spread out even further through the levels, but they were close. 

 

“Vos.” A scratchy voice echoed in his ear, the shots of blaster fire could be heard on the other side of the commlink. 

 

“Tarri, this is Vos.” He called back, patching Tom into the channel. 

 

“Barabel squad intact. One level below prison level. The prey… there are many. Almost too many.”

 

“Where is shuttle 9-9?”

 

A raspy voice hissed its displeasure, “Not here…”

 

Looking up at Tom, he knew the Chiss Jedi Master was on the comm. Connecting them to his own channel, he heard their chatter. Apparently, they were making their way to the Barabels, completing a flanking maneuver. 

 

“Hang in there Tarri, we don’t need anymore dead heros today.” Tobias ordered. 

 

Silence for two seconds then Terri acknowledged the order. 

 

Vos sighed, apparently 9-9 had been holding back waiting for this. Tut was a good planner like that, but it still irritated Vos. Maybe it was the fire they were under, but they shouldn’t be doing this logistical stuff now. The Barabels and Shuttle 9-9 were going to be coming up to the prison level, and Tobias with 20ish warriors were still making their way down. The process would start to speed up as they would now being using thermal detonators to remove the floor for the next few levels, then they would be above Raven.

 

TL:DR

Vos's shuttle (6-4) crew is moving down, Barabel squad plus Shuttle 9-9 crew moving up from below the prison level.

Shuttle 5-5 engaging Vault Security. 

6 other shuttle crews are running around, playing cat-and-mouse games with internal security. Will clarify later. 

OOC: Apologies for not formatting.

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As Aleria's blade met a stray bolt of crimson plasma that came so very close to singing her face, the station lights went out. It was a bit jarring at first, but she managed to catch herself before crashing to the floor; graceful.  To make matters worse, the distinct hum of the ventilation systems along with other ancillary system noises were replaced with a din of panicked bellowing. The life support was down and people were flapping around like a clutch of cornered mynocks. Skric! 

 

Aleria took a moment or two to mentally skim through her - albeit brief - instruction on how to use her vac suit, considering she had to sift through all the vague derision that Sanderson leveled at them. But she eventually found the little switch right above her left pectoral muscle; right at the seam of the vac suit's chest and arm sections. As she twirled through a spray of gunfire, she popped the small button on her suit's shoulder mounted exterior light, illuminating a small cone about ten feet from her position. It was a great way to give away her position, but considering the large bright pink-purple blades of pure light she was wielding, that star ship had already left dry dock. And, considering the mob of civilians that were now pressing in upon them, it wouldn't matter much. 

 

Seeing Aidan, Sandy, and Kel rush for a door at the end of the hall, Aleria followed suit, only to find that the door wasn't going anywhere. Huffing mildly, and taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow, Aleria eyed the cold steel door. Through the force she could feel how thick the security door was. And, had the power been on, opening the door would have been a cinch. As it was, she needed to find the locking mechanism. No pressure, right?

 

The young Jedi ran her organic limb across the strong metal door and the wall adjoining it, using the light from her sabers and her shoulder until she came across what she assumed was a localized junction box. It looked almost exactly the same as the junction box outside her old apartment back on Coruscant but it was sealed tight. With a snap hiss she disabled her left saber and stuck the hilt in her mouth while bending slightly to examine the box.

 

There was no discernible latch that she could see. But it had to pop open somehow. She stepped back and tried to kick it but that ended with a very stubbed toe. After a sharp exhalation of pain, she tried to punch it with her metal arm but it still wouldn't come loose. It just left a fist sized dent in the metal panel. Hoping her hunch was correct, she ran her remaining beam of active plasma along the outside of the box until the panel popped off. Yes! Now... let's just hope this next trick works as much as that did!

 

She'd never tried anything like this before. She wasn't even sure something like this was plausible. But she had to hope, otherwise they were cutting the doors open by hand which could take forever. Not knowing which wires were the right ones, Aleria grabbed the whole bunch of wires, including several wires that were cut when she opened the thing, in her organic left hand and let her mind clear, allowing the power of the force all around her to flow through her body and - hopefully - into the wires. At first, nothing happened. Aleria's eyes were closed as she tried to focus. She could feel the closed doors mocking her through their continued stoicism. But, just as she started to tire, the metal doors scraped across the floor. 


Wooo! Aleria cheered internally. 

 

But as fast as her adulation came, it left when the doors stopped moving. They had barely moved a foot apart. When Aleria looked down to try again, she saw that the wires were burnt out and broken. At least with no power the doors didn't move back together, but she was still distinctly underwhelmed. It left just enough space for them all to squeeze through if they walked sideways; though, it would be a tight squeeze. 

 

Aleria stood up and brushed off her robes with her free hand. 

 

"Well... I guess that's that, unless any of you have any other ideas." Aleria said with a half-smile. 

 

After she reached a full standing position, right beside Sandy and the others, a cold prick of sensation crawled up the base of her spine until it reached the crown of her head. Instinctively she ignited her other saber and entered a cross-guard ready stance. 

 

"There's a problem. You guys go for it, I'll be right behind you as soon as I can take care of it." She urged through gritted teeth. 

 

Sure enough, though hard to make out in the light she was emitting, amid the panicked citizens and the soldiers still struggling to move through the chaos, a solitary figure stood. He looked to be just a scant few inches shorter than Aleria and he had a lightsaber hilt in his hand. 

 

((Mordecai - you can get the first post or set up however you want and give it to me. I'm good either way.))

Edited by Aleria Thorne

 

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((As Jek Squall))

 

The events that happened over the next few seconds went by in a slow blur before Jek's eyes. The Force was with him, and he was at peace. 

 

The Sith lashed out, managing to nick his sword arm shoulder just enough that his follow through slash cut cleanly through the Zabrak's forearm, disarming him. The intense white-hot pain seemed dulled and distant, though. He was aware of these events, but did not feel.

 

The dismembered hand, still clutching the now deactivated lightsaber plummeted below to the hangar floor. The Force blast hit him shortly after, sending Jek over the railing. As he fell, his heart rate slowed, and his eyes fell closed. 

 

He was one with the Force, and the Force was with him. All was as it should be. This place, this conflict, this battle was his purpose, and that purpose had been fulfilled. While Jek had never been fully taught the deeper mysteries of the Force, his Master had tried to impart the ingredients that would leave him to discovering this truth on his own, when he was ready.

 

And finally, at the end of all things, he was ready.

 

A corpse hit the deck plates hard, with more than enough of an impact to kill him had he not already been dead. For a moment, a faint blue image of Jek stood next to it, visible only to Drago and his master. A moment that was a self contained eternity passed as he studied himself, before letting go. Giving one last look upward at Drago, Jek's Force ghost faded to nothingness. 

 

The Force was with him. He was at peace.

 

((Seeing as this character wasn't supposed to last much longer than this, I'm going to go ahead and yield. Considering the points made I  the ruling, this seemed plausible to me as an outcome, and I don't think I could have pulled out a win from where we left it. This was an enjoyable duel, and very well fought, I hope I did well in presenting the challenge I did!))

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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Mordecai had barely made it out of the hanger when the station came under another barrage of fire. As the lights and the other systems failed, Modeci smiled to himself. That could be useful. He drew his lightsaber, waiting to ignite it until he needed to. He still lacked 'proper' sith garb, but he doubted people would care. Only a madman or a soldier would be as close to the battle as he was going to get. He stalked through the halls, an ominous air about him as he pondered his task. Kill a jedi. That would be dangerous, but the path to the Dark Side would be filled with danger. Skirting from his duty now would not do him any favors.

 

It didn't take long to find signs of battle. Bodies, lined against the walls. Blast marks in the bulkheads. Death permeated the air. He was close. His footsteps echoed through the halls as he stalked his prey. Jedi. He could sense them. They were swarming with republic troops, though he could sense the panic in the Force. The lack of a life support bothered them, it seemed. He thought for a moment. A station this large likely had backups, and even if it didn't, they would likely still have are for over an hour.

 

He stepped into the hangar, lowering his head and pushing past the panicking mass and he made his way towards the Jedi. He looked up, and he met her eyes, a grin spreading across his face. She had two lightsabers? That could be a problem. He'd have to keep track of both. He reached up with his free hand, towards the dim light in the hangar, crushing it with the Force as his hand formed a fist.

"Tell me, Jedi. Do you fear what lurks in the dark?" he asked, stalking through the darkness carefully, watching the glow of her lightsabers to keep track of her. He circled to her right, his anticipation building as he readied himself for this fight.

 

He launched forward, swinging the hilt of the lightsaber towards the Jedi's arm, igniting it mid-swing in an attempt to conserve his advantage until the last possible moment in an attempt to sever or seriously damage the limb, hoping to gain an early advantage. The movement was quick and brutal, lacking all of the finesse that one would expect from a lightsaber combatant.

((Post 1 of Mordecai vs Aleria))

 

 

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