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  1. First, the good stuff: -I appreciate how each opponent let each series of attacks do something to them without crippling them. Each side felt like they were respecting the other throughout the duel. -In the same regard, no side tried to create a “gotcha” moment or make themselves seem impossible to fight, instead playing their characters tactically without trying to control the narrative to their side. I have a few comments, but it isn’t really bad stuff so much as things I would have liked to have seen expanded. -Tros takes the first lightsaber blow to his thigh. “The blade cut through the armor plate and flesh.” While we don’t see how damaging this blow is, we do see that he favors it later in the same post. However, the damage is a bit forgotten after this. In the second post he lands, and there’s no mention of the leg injury. This isn’t a big deal as he doesn’t start sprinting or anything, but I would have liked to see it brought up as it seems likely he would have felt it. -On a similar note, Alcemene takes a blaster shot to the wrist that blows apart the “tendons and muscle,” along with the shield. It’s a pretty harsh injury from the brief description we get, and it’s also forgotten afterwards. Again, like with Tros, it’s not a big deal as we don’t see her trying to fight two-handed or anything, but it seems a serious enough injury that I would have liked to have seen it mentioned again. Then there are two issues with the duel that I need to bring up before ruling. -Alcemene, I notice you didn’t call back to the damage you suffered in your previous duel. I 100% get not wanting to mention it, and I would have been fine if it was mitigated a bit in some way, but not ignoring it entirely. -Tros, I hesitate mentioning this as the class rules are very new, but your arsenal in this duel did violate them by employing a heavily armed minion in addition to your own armor and collection of weaponry. As we saw, that was a big advantage in this duel combining your mobility, multiple firing points, a sacrifice, armor, and a varied arsenal against a melee fighter. All that being said, the new rules did go up on the same day this duel started, so consider this a friendly warning for next time. Understand that what I said in the beginning still stands. You both fought admirably and with respect for the other person, and the way you handled each other’s attacks and played to the flow of the duel instead of one-upping each other was awesome! This ruling is a bit tough due to the issues I mentioned above and how they gave each side advantages they should not have had. Both of you also fought very evenly through the fight, taking hits and writing well. Final Ruling: Tros wins
    4 points
  2. Lehon, once known as Rakata Prime Tempered Wastes, Unknown Regions Simka had developed, during his time in the Temple growing up, a sort of unhealthy obsession with star-charts. He would often be engrossed in the hologalaxy in the library of the Felucia Jedi Temple during his childhood, wondering if he would ever be able to be to all the known regions. So, while this entire trip had, so far, been a surprise to the young Mirialan - from finding out the famous Master Leena Kil was interested in mentoring him to seeing hyperspace in all its azure glory for the very first time - nothing came close to the fact that his first trip was not towarda any of the known regions of the Galaxy but, in fact, the even cooler alternative: the Unknown Regions. "But, why Lehon?" he wondered out loud as he wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, heaved in a deep breath and relaxed his form, having practiced the Form I katas throughout their trip. He brought the durasteel cylinder that constituted his training lightsaber up and stared at it. Master Leena had basically helped him fry the blade power adjustment knob, and that meant his training saber had actually become quite a bit dangerous. He twirled the hilt around in his hand and ignited the saber, the blue plasma blade snap-hissing to life. Blue was not really his colour, he thought. Simka was attempting to resume training in the Form I katas as his Master had instructed when klaxons started blaring and a moment later, they had dropped out of hyperspace. Simka wobbled a bit for a second, this being his first time dropping out of hyperspace in an actual freighter outside of a flight simulator. "Whoa," the Mirialan grinned, yet only a second later the expression of awed delight was wiped off of his face. Klaxons started blaring again, though this time, the entire crew suddenly shifted to emergency mode. Master Leena grabbed him and seated the stunned boy forcefully, and Simka quickly snapped out of his stupor once the situation started making sense to him. "Kriff. I'm actually up against Sith now?!" he exclaimed. Que Epic Force Music Finding himself panicking, the Mirialan boy quickly reached out into the Force. Waves of darkness, promising death and dripping with venom, assaulted his senses. The Sith... the Mirialan shook head, before beginning to focus through the darkness. Above it, beyond it, towards the Light. For a moment, the darkness was so suffocating that he felt his hope of reaching out to the Light ever an unreachable dream. Then, he felt it - near instead of far. Master Leena was the Light, he realized - she was his closest manifestation of it. Closing his eyes, Simka focused on his Master, finding himself being positively blinded by the intensity of her Light. Through Leena's Light, Simka connected himself to the pervading light of the Living Force. His Master's voice was an ethereal echo that seemed to come from everywhere at once as Simka meditated upon his newly-forged bond with her. Following her voice, her instructions and her presence in the Light, Simka felt a surge of power - pure, beautiful and luminescent - flow through his every vein. His eyes took on a faraway look as he opened them again, connected, through Leena, to each and every single person Leena herself was connected to through the Force. The Padawan felt his Master as she squeezed his hand, and through her, he felt the captain, the other Jedi - every friendly and every hostile. In fact, Simka was quite surprised when he felt his Master's signature in the Force intertwined with those of the hostiles, and he quickly realized with a slightly agape jaw that she was drawing strength from the smothered light that emanated even from those ambassadors of the Dark Side. Simka instinctively knew what Leena was doing, even though it was his first time actually doing it or even seeing someone do it. "Whoa..." he couldn't help but voice, but he quickly shook his head and returned to focusing again. He followed Leena's actions in the Force again, before beginning to copy her to the best of his ability. It took quite a lot out of him, he realized, as his stamina had not yet developed to employ the Force on such a vast scale. Nonetheless, through sheer focus, the Mirialan attempted to augment the morale and fighting spirit of his comrades through the Light, and attempt to boost the Light within the Sith as Leena was doing, which would have the effect of making them reconsider and feel guilty over what they were doing. In truth, Simka's contribution - due to his inexperience and present insignificance in the presence of so many powerful foes and allies - was like that of a drop falling into an ocean. Still; ultimately, it was drops that made up an ocean. So, Simka focused, his immersion in the Force preventing him from worrying too much about the insane dives and drops their freighter and its ace of a captain was presently employing. He only truly registered that they had landed in the Jedi Temple after the fact had occurred, and he felt the onslaught of Light that a nexus such as the Temple emanated against the curtain wall of his senses. Simka gasped as he disconnected himself from his attempt at joining in the Battlemind, placing a hand on his chest as he heaved in deep breaths, feeling he could finally rest for a few moments now that they were safely in the confines of the Temple. Panting, he turned towards Master Leena. "M-Master, were those... the Sith? Why are they attacking us everywhere?" the wet-behind-the-ears Padawan asked.
    3 points
  3. Beth knelt by the dying beast, looking at the cracked carapace, and feeling like that would be her some day. A dead and long old beast of war. But there was little time to ponder such things. “Fall in.” The stormtroopers fell in behind her, their pale armour reflecting the soft lights of her armour and the blades of the Jedi and Imperial Knights. There was something foul here. And her heavy blaster rifle hummed as she jacked in another powerpack.
    2 points
  4. The cold hung in the air. The cold of the deep, salty air. The cold of the dead creature. The cold of the darkness. Edelmor's breath came fast, and he forced himself to inhale and exhale before he did anything. A racing mind hopped up on adrenaline wouldn't do anyone any good. Peace took him as he made long, slow breaths. He could feel his pounding heartbeat slow. The dull ache of bruises he hadn't felt at the time began to make themselves known. He was calm. And what's more, he seemed to be intact. "Whatever's down here," Edelmor said, his voice the same light tone he would have used at a state dinner, "I don't think I fancy leaving it alone. How about we drop a tracker here and call some of those workers down here to cart these off? I imagine it should be safe now. Something that big doesn't seem like that kind to share territory." He frowned. "Though how would the smugglers have gotten past it?"
    2 points
  5. 𝖜𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖍 It wasn't until Qaela felt her daughter's presence wane and then vanish into nothingness that she lost her cool. A part of her knew this wasn't the first time that Telperien had switched bodies in this fashion, but something about falling in battle made it different and that infuriated the Nightsister Sith Master. The Jedi ignored her warning, so now she would carry through with her threats and many would die. That pleased her because right now, she didn't want to restrain herself and wanted to bring down wrath. She shut off the open comms line to the Jedi and reinstated the jamming. Switching over to her synchronized comms, she ordered the one special shuttle summoned to play its part. The Jedi Temple needed to be humbled and that would play a part in it. By this point, the remaining Nightsisters had withdrawn from their forward patrol and rejoined her. Looking out over them, she said, "Join with me, delve deeply into the Darkness, and lend me your strength so that we may wreck havoc upon those who felled Telperien." They weren't overly eager to fight and die without their leader, but this would not require that of them. The truth was that Qaela never did want to see the Nightsisters on the front lines and dying, she had meant for them to offer support and lend their own skills with Nightsister Spellcraft to her own Sith blended skills. They fell in line quickly enough and, once she explained her intent, they began chanting the appropriate spells. Qaela reached out into the pool of Darkness that was the cause that brought her to this planet and began to command its strength. Using both the other Nightsisters and her own strength, she bent its power to her will and applied it out to the large storm that raged out over the Jedi Temple. Originally, she had considered stilling the winds so that she could bring in her army, but that thought fled away when her daughter fell. Instead, she poured her wrath into the swirling hurricane increasing its winds and the torrential downpours. Nature had created a monster to ravage the coasts of this part of Lehon, but she would turn that monster into a true leviathan that would scour the Jedi's ships and Temple. Channeling the power that was being generated and built up by the Nightsisters, she molded and directed it to increase the winds to catastrophic levels and cause the rain to fall in sheets. It took far less power to manipulate a storm that already existed than to create one from nothing, but it still felt good to do. When she was at last done, they could hear the rumbles of the lightning even as far back as they were. She smiled at nobody in particular and prepared her next move. She was one with Nature, and if she could create storms, she could become the storm. There was one within that cauldron of destruction that Qaela needed to face. She had been repulsed on Felucia and left polluted with the Light side and that had caused an uncertainty that shamed her. She needed to face the Mon Calamari Jedi and put the Dark Side to test once more so that when she emerged victorious, all of her doubts would be laid to rest. "Hold this position until you hear from myself or Lord Blackbourne," she told the major commanding this battalion. "If both of us fall, leave this planet and return to Onderon." She commandeered one of the shuttles and ordered its pilot into the massive storm, seeking her target. Taking a ship into this maelstrom was risky and she wouldn't risk her soldiers who would be highly ineffectual anyway. Despite the dangers, she had prey to seek and vengeance to achieve.
    2 points
  6. It was nearly half an hour before Kadi moved, sitting silently as she wept. Such pain... What had she been taught that she believed her only chance at existing was this cursed life? What drove the Sith to make such audacious claims on others' lives, like they were but playthings? She felt Lehon's pain, impaled by thousands of dark artifacts, and she shared in it as she held the lifeless corpse in her arms, cradling it close. She didn't just grieve for the loss of life. She grieved that she had caused it. That she hadn't been able to save her. This is what it meant to take a life. To cut someone down in combat. She was entirely unprepared. Would she have the strength to do it again? She planted her spear in the ground beside her, climbing to her feet as she did so. What she had planned wouldn't take long. She retrieved Telperiën's lightsaber and her shattered bow, placing them on the body as she did so. She lit a flame, starting at the dead woman's feet, watching as it quickly caught and spread. The waterlogged forest around her was in no danger from this, and it seemed wrong to just leave the body in the open. She didn't have the time to dig a grave, but she did have time for this. She stood silently, retrieving her spear as she watched the body burn with sorrow, silent the entire time. This was her vigil. Any that would come to disturb this woman's rest, even if it was only a brief one, would do so at their own risk.
    2 points
  7. This was an incredibly close duel. It was incredibly cinematic on both sides. I must say the ‘lighting yourself on fire’ technique is rarely seen but very effective. It cast the whole duel in its firelight. Let's start off with the criticism mixed with the positives. Mythos, you had a good amount of what I would call specialized weapons in your fireteam. Though they were not used as often as some have used them, they were still very heavily used. Flechettes at least in modern fire teams for the Rebels/Empire are relatively rare. To see them plus a scattergun used is a bit more than one would expect for a non legendary ranked character. However you offset this by taking realistic and heavy losses. I would say you bordered on taking too much damage relative to what your opponent took. Zendrin, you did a great job embodying the art of the warrior, however I would have liked you to take a bit more effective damage. Mythos lost a lot in each of his posts, you took some shrapnel that didn't really affect your combat effectiveness at all. This to me is not respecting your opponents attacks. If you are struggling on how to address exceptional weaponry like what Mythos had, I would recommend using your full warrior kit. You could have used armour here. Not having armour is like leaving a whole part of your kit behind. Overall while it was very close, we must always have a winner: Mythos von Howlster
    2 points
  8. The Night Shadow dropped from Hyperspace and approached the planet. A modified CEC VCX-100 and ship of the well known Pax Ari (bounty hunter, bodyguard, pilot smuggler, and most important, owner of the Burra Fish cantina. As he approached the planet he turned to his pet Nexu. "We're almost home Cho" The large feline seemed to smile as it lifted its head from the cold durasteel floor of the ship. Pax dropped into orbit and made way to his personal landing pad where the Night Shadow would sit until the next adventure. This was a personal trip, not a vacation, still work to supply the Burra Fish with some of it known beverages. Pax flip a few switches and he brought the ship down for a nice soft landing. The cargo doors were opened and Pax proceeded with unloading the cargo onto a skiff to transport to the cantina. A small seedy cantina just outside the Republics claim on the territory, the Burra Fish was a welcome spot to anyone and frequented by many. It didn't look like much but it was considered a safe place and had drinks that others didn't, that's what realy kept the place going. The biggest chore today would be getting the 'blue krill' moved so they could make the Spotchka. The blue krill came from Sorgan. The local farmers came up with the drink, but it was cheaper and easier to move the krill than the finished product, plus it didn't cost as much. Then there were other drinks were it was just more ideal to purchase the finished product and bring it in ready to serve. In this haul Pax and picked up some Tihaar from the Mandalorian culture. Juma Juice, a favorite of the Jedi, was also on board. Only this was more like the old school version that had a kick to it, not the modern day drink that kids could have. T'ssolok, a Twi'lek favorite was in crates. Hopefully the decorative decanters it was stored in survived the trip. Pax couldn't decide which smelled worse, the Vizz-kick, a drink favored by the Quarren species that was fermented from seaweed or the Tsiraki, a blue colored beverage crafted from fermented salakberries adn pickling spices. Either way, he had them both and he did his best to provide something everyone would come for. After Pax got everything loaded on the skiff, the Nexu jumped up on top of the cargo and laid down. "Ready boy?" Pax took it easy navigating the streets from the landing pad to the cantina, but made it with no issues. Once everything was unloaded he headed inside. "Aola! We have returned with full many drinks to offer." Aola was the previous owner of the Burra Fish, now just the bartender. A Female Twi'lek who's family used live here but was now on her own. "Did you get the T'ssolok?" she asked. "I sure did, and a load of krill so we need to start making the Spotchka." Aola dropped the rag she was using to wipe down the bar and headed to back where she started working on the brewing of the Spotchka. She yelled out to Pax. "I hear a bunch of Mandalorian's were headed this way." Pax yelled back back. "I hope they find out we have some Tihaar here for 'em."
    2 points
  9. Kadi took the amulet, shaking her head at Telperiën. The Sith had done this to her, then. They had done what they do best- Destroy and corrupt. They had taken a young child and turned her into a weapon. It broke her heart, but it also reminded her why she fought. Why she would always take up arms against them when they invaded. Why she wouldn't let Lehon fall. "The Force does not curse people- The people using it do. If someone has cursed you to be this way, then I'm sure it's reversible. And even if it's not..." Kadi hesitated for only a moment before continuing. "Then do something good with what you have. You are a leader among your people- bring them out of the dark. Protect them from what the Sith bring to every world the lay their eyes upon- Death and destruction." She grasped the other woman's hand, hoping to comfort the clearly dying nightsister. She wept, though she knew from the way Telperiën spoke that she would be back. "You must think my expectations are great. I don't expect you to be anything- I just want you to be better. Your salvation does not lie in the Spider, whoever he is. It lies in your own heart, and in your will." Kadi held her close, hoping to give comfort where she could. She had struck the final blow. She had taken this life, if only temporarily. It was the least she could do to make sure she was in comfort as she passed. She ran her hands through Telperiën's hair, as her mother used to do when she was young. Something that, judging by her rejection of the Darksong name, her own mother never did for her. Such senseless hatred and disdain for one's own daughter, and for what? So that she could climb the Sith ranks with naught but false promises of power, betrayal, and mayhem? She would never understand it.
    1 point
  10. Duel Ruling: Kadi Silan vs. Telperiën Ar-Pharazon Firstly, as someone who manages a much more limited rate of writing, I just want to say that I am thoroughly intimidated by two writers who managed to go through an entire three-post duel in a single caffeine-fueled evening. Congratulations to the two of you, this is an impressive and frightening achievement. The same goes for being cheerfully murderous in your out-of-character interactions on the Discord. Also, thanks to both of you for maintaining up-to-date character sheets. Kadi Silan and Telperiën are a curious match-up. Both characters are, in a sense, of a naturalist bent; Kadi, as a Jedi, being of a decidedly more benevolent discipline and Telperiën, as a Dathomiri Nightsister and child of one of the more infamous Dark Lords in the RP… her background is somewhat complicated, to say the least. In my opinion, both characters played well to their strengths. The psychological state of both characters was consistent throughout the fight, with Telperiën favoring a cold, rationally calculating predatory mindset, making sacrificial plays to protect herself; Kadi, for her part, seemed reluctant to exercise lethal force, motivated more by defending the Jedi Temple’s noncombatants and solidarity with her acklay. Kadi made skillful use of her acklay companion to force Telperiën into evasive maneuvers, as well mitigating much of the threat of that facing a trio of illusory attackers would pose. The use of a lightspear is similarly an excellent weapon for defensive situations, which, combined with the kinetic capabilities of Ataru, would make for a truly formidable defensive screen for any attacker to breach. Her response to Telperiën’s attempt to draw combatants into an illusory arena reminiscent of the recent massacres on Felucia was similarly well-written--the character did just spend a significant amount of time helping with the clean-up after that battle. Additional sensory details would have strengthened the defense to this attack even further. That said, it consistently seemed as though Kadi was responding to threats throughout most of the fight, rather than driving it to its conclusion herself. On Telperiën’s part, I really have to congratulate the writer for their ability to communicate the kinetic movements of the character, especially in the first two rounds of posting. I had a very easy time understanding exactly what she was doing at every stage of the fight and the appearance of her weapons. Her single shot from the bow is the best example of this. I similarly enjoyed the simultaneous attacks and set-ups for Nightsister sorcery with her own blood. However, I can’t help but feel as though the specific illusion that Telperiën cast was a misplay, as Kadi Silan was very recently at the site of a similar massacre (one inflicted by Telperiën’s mother, in fact), and spent some time dealing with the emotional aftermath of witnessing such an atrocity. Something more subtle--or viscerally distracting--would have been just as effective while exerting less effort. Similarly, while forcing an opponent to deal with multiple illusory combatants is a classic Assassin maneuver, it is made less effective by the fact that her opponent is wielding an excellent defensive weapon in the form of a lightspear and is accompanied by a beast capable of shish-kabobing at least one of the illusions unless an inordinate amount of effort was placed into maintaining it. My ruling is thus: Kadi Silan is the victor of this duel, and gets the next post.
    1 point
  11. The air tasted bitter and ashen, suffocating in the smoke left behind by the fires of rage and bile. The blazing intensity of the moment was everything until it… wasn’t. These latent moments were the nature of the beast that they had all unleashed inside of themselves, but she did not relish them like the other times. They made her feel spent, used up, and hungry for the next rush, although that was an addiction that she did not feed lightly. Too many Sith burned themselves away too quickly by being dominated by the cycle of passion and burn out. The Dark Side was a part of her, but not all of her. She took the communicator from Darth Mavanger, losses were never easy for the Sith, but they were the crucible that either reforged a warrior into something stronger or broke them. This was the nature of the eternal war, ever pursuing greater strength and power. She took captures of the inside of the palace, a place of architectural beauty, and made her way into the city proper. The terrorists and dissidents were already melting away into the shadows, as they always did. She felt the half extinguished light of a solitary remaining Jedi in the city, and went in search of it out of curiosity. At the river that split the city, the Jedi lay paralyzed near a shattered bridge, with the kind of wound that would have been permanently crippling before the advancement of medical technology. Preternatural intuition told her that this was the Jedi that had defeated Darth Mavanger. “I’m not here to kill you, Jedi. You struck down Darth Mavanger, but that makes you the stone that sharpens my blade. It’s why conflict is such an integral part of the galaxy. If you ever grow disillusioned with the lie of peace that the Jedi and the Alliance continue to pander with, you have earned your place amongst our ranks through your skill and courage. Think it over.” Darth Nyrys took out her commlink and contacted command. Anyone with the courage to take up arms would be given medical aid and evac, regardless of colors. The civilians though, they belonged to the Sith now. “Medevac is on the way, Jedi. May you find ever greater glory in your journey.”
    1 point
  12. At his master’s point, Solus originally swam alongside the pod and followed it. With no need to breathe and able to stand the underwater pressure, there was no issue with allowing the others to have a bit more free space. Plus, if something happened to the pod, the Shard could help on the outside much quicker. However, his guilty mind got the better of him. He would rather be closer to his master. And this newcomer interested him. The force acted so weird here. “Perhaps with more looking into the impossible geometries” Solus commented to himself as he came in behind his master into the pod. “I could get an idea of what this...Inmortos is. Its such a strange sight. The shapes of his life are so...not correct. Like broken, but still running. Such an odd thing…” Solus let the water drip off of himself as his master began talking. His attention was focused on the lizard beings nearby. The appearance they gave looked more like corpses then beings. And a quick glance into the Impossible Geometries revealed that just as so. Much like Inmortos, the shapes around the lizards were much more jittery and paused for much longer periods of time. They were more dead than alive in every sense of the word. Then the pain came. Solus’ joints tightened instantly as every circuit in his body began to fire off. The world around him was suddenly closing off from him. This world of worlds was disappearing rapidly, as his own connections from the chassis were being severed in unseen ways. His voice broke into a screech. "You may wonder why my apprentice? Why invoke my Wrath. Why do this after such success, it is simple. You jeopardized our mission, one given by the Dark Mistress for your own personal glory. You nearly cost the clan everything. You nearly cost me everything” “Ma-Master I-” Solus screeched in pain as his chassis acted up again. His feet left the floor as every limb franticly tightened and loosened over and over. His begging could not be heard over his shrieking frequencies. The world was losing sight for his sensors. No, Solus realized, his sensors were losing connection with his Shard. With the chassis, he was a being, but without it, he was a simple rock. And Akheron’s actions were forcibly separating the two. “Disregard my lessons, my words at your peril Solus. Consider this your second lesson. There is nothing you do that is not without consequences. Think before you act and heed my words of caution. War is no game, no mere childs play, nor is the life you chose by accepting my tutorlage. I warned you about this...disregard my words again and jeopardize what privilege we were given and you shall be cast aside, I'm sure Krath Inmortos here would just love a new puppet like you. Do I make myself clear?” “Ye...yes!” Solus fought, his voice a mixture of blaring of noises and shrieks of static and voice. “I..swear I...will remember! I ...swear!” Solus fell to the ground with a clang, his body suddenly back under his full possession. "Now get up and act the Sith you wish to become. You are a child no more, you are a Warrior, act like it." A sudden fear came from Solus’ shard, followed immediately by a thick cloud of rage. He looked at his master and the new non-alive being. Hadn’t he done well? He had killed so many Gungans. He had found the plasma. He had found the gungan village. He was going to kill so many more! So he made a mistake... Was that worthy of so much pain? Was his master just like his shardmates, willing to throw Solus away for simply being himself? Solus picked himself up, slowly. His chassis felt a bit foreign at first, as if he needed to resettle in it all over again. His body parts shook slightly at first, but worked into place. The shard however still kept his gaze focused on Akheron and Inmortos, saying nothing. He needed to let his anger cool off. No doubt Akheron could sense it. Solus briefly took a glimpse into the Impossible Geometries and called the red cloud away from the others. Perhaps he could hide it for now. It wasn’t like he couldn’t use it later on those stupid Gungans. Just needed to call it back for now. Store it away, like a battery, and use it later.
    1 point
  13. Karys could sense the multitude of lifeforms from where Solus was pointing. He was correct in that it was most likely a city...teeming with life, life ripe for the taking and ready to be plundered for it's riches. Perhaps not in credits but in it's children, adult sympathetic to the Sith and technology. Children that could be easily coerced, kidnapped or otherwise and be indoctrinated into the ranks of the clan. More meat for the grinder that was becoming his army and that of Clan Brasganu. One bred for one purpose alone...the complete extermination of the Jedi and their allies and his own enemies. Much how Solus was being moulded into a weapon of war, a task he was taking too with all the joy of a kid in a sweet shop. He was amused at the prospect. Pointing towards the pod, he bid Solus join him and meet their newest ally. Allowing what remained of the Linnorms with them to escort the precious cargo of plasma to the surface and informing the Dark Mistress of their success at the task she had set the clan. He hoped she approved of them and found the clan a useful tool. That done, he swam towards the icey ship, avoiding the jutting spikes that appeared around it. As the temperature dropped, his body shuddered slightly in discomfort, but it was not a unknown feeling. No worse than being upon a ice planet he thought. Giving three taps, code for friend, he hoped the Krath, Inmortos answered. Instead some undead lizards of some type greeted him. No doubt they were of the Krath's making, which intrigued the Warrior somewhat. Even if it was not his way of doing things. Entering, with his apprentice not far behind...or he hoped so he removed the rebreather as water was sucked out and allowed him to breath air again to speak. Nodding with a quick bow of the head, in respect of Inmortos skills he spoke to the master Krath. "Greetings Krath Inmortos, we meet at last. Or rather a proper introduction....I recall seeing you with Krath Apophos above Geonosis at the start of this campaign. We did not speak then, it is a pleasure to get the chance to now. Even under such conditions. I must say your skills are most impressive. Although the help while not needed was appreciated. This is my newfound apprentice, the Shard who calls himself Solus, so far not a wasted effort...despite my initial doubts. Save once, a lesson soon he will to remember and never forget. To what do I owe this pleasure of your personal attention." While he waited, he said nothing before everything changed in a instance. Focusing the Darkness, allowing it to take hoold, Akheron tightened his grip upon the strings in the force that connected to his apprentice Solus. Strangling and tightening those that held him to his lifeforce. Suffocating him in the air until he could hardly breath. A lesson of pain and to heed his words in future. He kept his promise, despite what good Solus had done. A lesson needed to be learnt. A lesson wrought from his Wrath. "You may wonder why my apprentice? Why invoke my Wrath. Why do this after such success, it is simple. You jeopardized our mission, one given by the Dark Mistress for your own personal glory. You nearly cost the clan everything. You nearly cost me everything. Disregard my lessons, my words at your peril Solus. Consider this your second lesson. There is nothing you do that is not without consequences. Think before you act and heed my words of caution. War is no game, no mere childs play, nor is the life you chose by accepting my tutorlage. I warned you about this...disregard my words again and jeopardize what privilege we were given and you shall be cast aside, I'm sure Krath Inmortos here would just love a new puppet like you. Do I make myself clear. Now get up and act the Sith you wish to become. You are a child no more, you are a Warrior, act like it." Dropping him, allowing him to recover he turned back to Inmortos. "Sorry about that...apprentices....sometimes you just want to kill them. As I was saying, to what do I owe the pleasure."
    1 point
  14. Her eyes deceived her. Her ears echoed with the screams of the dead. Her skin baked with the heat of the false fire. She closed her eyes. The Force would guide her. She focused on it, feeling it. Feeling the way the energies ebbed and flowed- Even in a world as dark as this one, she could feel the currents as the Nightsister cast her foul magics. Her blood was the key. It didn't matter anymore. She could feel the movements, and while her illusions too played at her mind, it was enough. She sprang into action as she was charged by the doppelgangers. Juro roared once more- these small things had attacked what was essentially his mother. She had raised him from a hatchling. Cleansed him of Felucia's taint. Their bond was unshakeable. They had trained together for years. She trusted him not to strike her, and he trusted her to protect him. And so she leapt backwards, spinning her spearin a long arc. It moved to parry the first blade and whipped through empty air. A lie. She steeled her heart as she allowed the first illusion to close. The momentum of the spear haft carried it into the second, and it swished in it's long arc. Another miss. But as she fell on the backfoot, she was comfortable. Like a dancer, every movement built into the next, a whirling sentinel, determined to let none through her defense. This was Ataru, the way of the Hawk Bat. Juro rushed the trio from their flank. She knew the true threat now. Juro only saw the three Nightsisters as new combatants. Kadi opened her eyes, and felt the clearing for what it was. A wounded world, the Force sundered a millennia ago by an untold force. Even if it was beyond her ability to heal it, she could stop this battle now, and give other Jedi, more powerful than herself, the opportunity. Maybe a padawan that she helped save this day would come back here, years from now, and heal this world. Maybe someone on Felucia would remember her and seek to be a healer, a protector. As the nightsister closed, Kadi leapt. The blade struck, scoring her unblemished chest and abdomen through her own armor. It would have been a lethal strike, and the pain that coursed through her body was the price she paid for survival. The scar would remind her of this fight, for all future fights. As she sailed through the air, she struck from above, using the spear the stab at the woman's spine- hopefully not a lethal blow, but a debilitating one. Juro rushed forward, striking first at the left illusion, and when he was met with nothing, he struck again with his razor sharp claws at the center as Kadi landed, tumbling along the dirt as she knelt, panting for breath. Each breath caused her pain, a lance across her nervous system, dulled only by the adrenaline coursing through her body and her channeling of the Force. Even if she died here today, he only regret would be that she didn't buy more time. That she didn't save more. But she was prepared for the outcome, regardless. ((3))
    1 point
  15. So the Jedi had faced the terror. It was impressive really, she had seen much in her short life, and to be so strong it brought a smile to Telperiën’s face as she moved the last meter. This was the final moment, and with the woman’s spear up and ready there was only one way forward. Straight in, cutting the opponents in half as within close range with its master, the Acklay could not hope to provide anything but nominal support. And when the main threat was dealt with, the lesser would flee. With a bust of speed, the assassin trained nightsister dashed forward. She kept her body low, moving out of the billowing smoke, and shouting another word of power into the stern wind. She flung out her wounded arm, spraying the area with droplets of misted blood. The blood came with her, morphing and joining into an illusion of the daughter of Ar-Pharazon. To the Jedi, the Nightsister would emerge from the smoke as a trio of dark sisters. One going for each flank, while the true sister came along the point of the Jedi’s blade. Fluid like and lithe as a gymnast. To duck up under the long spear. And when the blade was right, to ignite the pale red saber into the Jedi’s chest. The Jedi was strong. But she was still prey. And in the wilds, the predator always won. ((3)) Actions: Dodged out of the acrid smoke, forming new illusions as she did so. Coming in fast to go under the spear. Where she would ignite the saber and end the fight.
    1 point
  16. The cacophony of blaster fire echoed up and down the shafts. Any semblance of stealth was lost more so than it may have been at the cry of the beast. Still, they did little to dissuade the monstrous crustacean; it’s thick armored hide absorbing the brunt of the stunning energy and blasts. Turning with a screech, intent on destroying they who were attacking, the lobster made to charge. It only got a couple steps; however, before it was attacked again, feeling it’s body lifted up into the air before it was unceremoniously flipped onto it’s back and in a singular motion of force-powered momentum and slammed back to the floor, grating against the stoney ground and crates beneath it. Sparks flew through the air as the beast let out one final angry squeal; Lok’s blade piercing it’s soft underside and scorching a home through the creature’s ravaged mind. With it’s death throws, the crustacean lashed about as it’s body spasmed unto death, lighting the room with sprays of sparks that seemed to settle across everything, singing exposed cloth and smoldering against the crates of explosives. Finally the beast was dead. A cold wind ripped through the shafts, pushing the group deeper; a cold hunger bidding them forward. A chill was on the heavy humid air.
    1 point
  17. Simka felt an otherwordly delight well up in his chest when Master Leena congratulated him, and he absorbed every word she said. He hadn't at all been prepared for the impromptu lesson he had certainly received, but it had already become a fond memory for him. Deep down, he began wishing that Master Leena would take him on as a full-time apprentice. It was a childish aspiration; no Knight had yet wanted to take him on, so how could he even expect that from a Master? '... in all our endeavours.' Wait, what? "Are you saying--?" The eccentric Jedi Master cut him off, enlisting the equipment he should bring along with him. Hours later, when Simka was ascending the boarding ramp of the freighter in the wake of Leena Kil, having ensured that he brought the stuff she had instructed him to bring, he was still mentally reeling from the implications that he was Master Leena's Padawan or something and that he eas going off world for the very first time.
    1 point
  18. Fifty thousand meters above Theed, a squadron of A-Wings were blazing downwards through Naboo’s atmosphere at a velocity that some meteors would have envied. In a frightening feat of precision flying, the twelve starfighters were flying so closely together that their overlapping sensor signatures might have caused some sensor relays to misidentify the interceptors as a falling meteor. The superheated gases glinting off of their hulls would have certainly caused any casual observers to dismiss them as a meteorological event. The A-Wings were continually buffeted from side to side by the turbulence from their own airfoil vortices, the tiny interceptors within such a close range that their pilots could have communicated by hand signals rather than the narrow-band line-of-sight comms that they used to avoid detection. “ No diversions from Theed. Looks like we might make it through undetected.” “I can’t even see it. All I see is smoke and--” “That is Theed. Remember, protect your wingman, hit fast, hit hard and do not stick around for a fight. We’re here to give the knuckle-draggers some cover. Esk-war up on my mark. Five, four, three, two, one--mark!.” At that moment, the pilots simultaneously triggered the jammers on board their equipment, filling the nearby atmosphere with interference that would play havoc with comms and sensor transmissions. Of course, the enemy would instantly realize that something was on its way, but from where--and what--could only be confirmed by the mark one eyeball. _____ “Go Lead, before they… pos…” “Repeat, Aurek--repeat.” Bryce growled as the Talon rained down semiautomatic blaster fire down the Palace Promenade, spattering sparks against the turret of one of the Sith transports. Static was all that answered her--the turret swiveled around to face her position and she fell prone to the polished floor.. In the next second, her hearing was blown out by the shriek of shattering glass and crumbling walls. Rubble and glass rained down all around her as the laser cannon opened up on her position, causing the entire wall and part of the floor to cave in. For the moment, all she could do was to try and protect her head from the wreckage. Once the impacts stopped landing, she triggered the repulsorlift in her armor, causing the rubble to blast away from her in a miniature explosion as the thrusters tried to push against the obstacles. Bryce shook her head and tried to collect herself. The roar of laser cannon fire seemed to have died down. Nothing seemed to have been broken, but she had lost her rifle in the collapse and a warm liquid was leaking down her face. Somehow, the cave-in had caused her to fall down to the ground level of the promenade. Seizing her vibromachete, the Talon began to rush own the debris-strewn steps of the once-proud Royal Palace, to join in the firefight against a final unseized troop transport. The crew hadn’t seemed to realize that two of the other transports had gone silent and were seized by her soldiers… but as her boots sprinted down towards its landing struts, the whine of its repulsors took on a higher pitch. They were preparing to take off. Cursing under her breath, Bryce redoubled her pace and jumped onto the retracting boarding ramp--a chrome-plated Sith trooper nearly jumped in shock to see the Rebel marine lift her machete in a double-handed grip--a pair of bolts went wide and showered the keel of the transports--she brought the machete down in a hacking blow on the soldier’s shoulder. The Sith trooper collapsed to the deck, his weapon falling to the deckplates of the transport. His gauntlets rose as though attempting to protect himself from a second crash of the blade--then shock and blood loss set in and his hands fell to the floor. Bryce only took a second while stepping over his body to slam an armored palm against the controls of the boarding ramp. She charged towards the cockpit. An officer of some description stood from his position at the comms unit to pose some meager resistance with a light blaster pistol--Sophia tucked her head down in imitation of a shockball player’s tackle and felt burning heat against her left shoulder as a blaster bolt found plastoid. Her tackle rammed the officer into the corridor wall--a distinct crack resounded as the officer fell, and the man did not attempt to rise from his supine position. Finally, the cockpit. It was a simple layout, just two seats surrounded by control boards. Bryce lifted her vibromachete in preparation for another overhand chop and roared from a core of visceral rage that astonished her. “Take this fracking ship down! Take it down or I will fracking chop you two up right now!” She could not quite hear the response of the pilot, but it appeared to be a terrified squeak. More relevant was the fact that the deckplates sank under boots as the transport returned to the ground, allowing the remainder of her Talons to board and take control of the vessel. A pair of her men dragged the gunners out of their turrets, and another pair held sidearms to the pilots heads and shoved them into the passenger compartment. “Take us out, Cegt. Any direction…” As the adrenaline began to subside, Bryce began to lean heavily on the co-pilot’s seat. Cold was beginning to creep up her fingers, and blood began to ooze between the gaps of her pauldron. As the four seized transports lifted from the ruins of Theed and into a hostile airspace, the sensor boards reported that multiple Acklay fighters were vectoring to intercept their escape. At that moment, the A-Wings of Geist Squadron struck, dumb-firing their missiles into the Sith fighters. That fire was largely inaccurate and only two of the missiles found their targets, but the exhaust trails streaking past their cockpits undoubtedly threw them off their quarry. The grey-painted A-Wings then swooped around, spraying fire from their blaster cannons as the other half of the squadron began their own attack run on the grounded Sith forces around Theed. At that moment, Johanna had collapsed from a mixture of blood loss and exhaustion. A medic fell upon the Rebel Captain, peeling away armor plating and shoving bandages into an ugly blaster wound at her shoulder. It had nearly severed her the subclavian artery, and she was in danger of bleeding out while they made their escape. Bryce would later have no recollection of screaming out of shock and pain as the bandages were packed into the wound. She certainly had no recollection of the hysterical laughter that issued from the copilot as a pair of the grey A-Wings formed up just in front of the cockpit, giving the transport an acknowledging wag of their fuselage before breaking off to embark on another strafing run. Johanna did, however, distinctly remember the jolting landing as the transports set down in the hangar of Wrecking Machine. It stirred her into attempting to rise despite the firm pressure of the medics who held her supine, and she instead mumbled plaintively: “Men? My men? Where are my men? They make it? Tell me--need a headcount, let me up, gotta--” Those were the last intelligible wounds that she uttered as the marine was lifted onto a gurney and the Rebel fleet made its escape into hyperspace.
    1 point
  19. 𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 Qaela smiled at her daughter's question. There were so many possible causes for the question and avenues for the answer, none of them would make the Jedi happy. That her daughter was on such a promisingly dark path was a good sign. "They need not be all slain in the field, but I will not brook any risks that could endanger the overall operation. If we can take some of the Jedi alive, that is a pleasant bonus, but I won't have anyone taking undue risks. Any Younglings we find in the Temple itself should be spared, though, there are many things we can do with them." A small chime chirped at her desk. She stood up and gestured for the door. "Go now and prepare yourselves. I must give instruction to the Imperial officers so they may know their roles." As soon as they had departed, Qaela began readying herself for battle. Instead of the spear she lost on Felucia, she returned to the use of a lightsaber. The deep blue sapphire that powered it created a similar hue that suited her well. She also prepared another suit of medium matte black armor, complete with a small blaster pistol and bandoleer with grenades. This time, since the Sith weren't fighting with full biohazard suits, she limited herself to two incendiary grenades and two fragmenting ones. She didn't like fighting at close range, but she would be ready should that happen again as it did on Felucia. * * * * In Onderon's highest security prison, routine was what kept the inmates under control. It allowed the guards to know when something was out of place and if their wards were trying to escape or cause problems. It gave the otherwise violent and unstable inmates a sense of structure to build their lives around and keep them from overreacting to anything. However, today, routine was broken. Dozens upon dozens of the worst offenders, the most vile of rapists and murderers, the most hated traitors, and even some of those who peddled death dealing narcotics that weakened the health and resolve of the Empire's youth were all rounded up. They knew not where they were going, but they ultimately had no choice in this. Some were excited at the change, hoping that they would be going to a better place than the oppressive prison cells. Others were apprehensive at the change and and uncertainty of the unknown. Regardless to how they felt, within a few hours, over a hundred of Onderon's worst were secured in specialized cells on a medium transport commonly used by space liners and other transport companies to ferry paying passengers around the Galaxy. As soon as they were loaded and all was ready, the shuttle lifted off and joined the Sith fleet in orbit as it readied for battle. A Victory class Star Destroyer, the Exultant Darkness, formed the core of the invasion force while the Herløv remained at Onderon to finalize repairs. It was escorted by two Lancer frigates and a half dozen smaller corvettes. It had recently suffered heavy losses to its own fighter and bomber compliment, so it took on both from the Herløv's own compliment which had been replenished at Kuat. Troop transports were also present, ready to deliver a battalion of Sith soldiers onto the planet's surface along with AT-ST's and some medium artillery units. It wasn't the largest invasion force Qaela had ever commanded, but their target wasn't a heavily occupied Core world, either. As soon as everything was ready, the force slipped into hyperspace.
    1 point
  20. Lok could feel the creature begin to settle, could feel it's notions of emotions and priorities begin to subside as he poured himself into the creature and attempt to peacefully end the encounter. And as the creature did, Lok too began to lessen his use of the Force, a smile abruptly crossing his face that it was coming to a close. But Lok wasn't prepared for the Darkness that resided in the distance. He felt the darkness when it came, heard the voice echo in his own mind, and reeled backwards from it's presence as it tore back into the mind of the creature. He knew then that it wasn't them that called upon the creature to attack, even as the ancient voice spoke in a language he could not comprehend. Shaking the darkness from his mind as he released his control over the beast, his face turned a clammy white as the realization hit and he caught his footing just briefly before the creature slammed into the wall that was behind him. He barely had time to react as the chaos consumed the moment, propelling himself upward and onto the creature's back, his blade finding its self activated in a reverse hold as his hand grabbed the chitlin plating for a solid hold. As Sir Tarko and Lady Andromina engaged the beast with the Troopers spreading out to fire, Lok enveloped himself with the Force and created a barrier around his form to deflect friendly fire. Holding onto and maintaining his barrier while on the back of the beast wasn't an easy feat, and the ride only got more chaotic as the air between them and the creature grew in intensity. Lok knew there was only one way to end this, and despite his reluctance, he knew it must be done. As he felt Tarko's tug on the Force and felt the crustacean's form shift, Lok propelled himself upward toward the gap in its shell, attempting to drive his blade into its brain through the exposed flesh. Darkness was the enemy, and the beast was possessed with it.
    1 point
  21. Shiro stood in silence for most of the conversation, his mind burying his thoughts and his body oblivious to reaction. He was but an Apprentice, and in the presence of Lords and Masters, he knew his place. He was but a tool to be used when the time came, and until then, he was a mere observer, taking in what he saw and witnessed to memory. Only the hiss of his prosthetic lung spoke of his presence amongst the group. That was, until they called upon him. "Lady Awenyyd is forging her own path amongst the stars" Shiro replied to Sir Blackmorne, his blackened irides briefly meeting the man's to reveal the red pupils hidden within. "When we departed, she was in good health and in good spirits. I only hope her path bears her good fruit." There was little more to say than that. Lady Awenyyd had forged a Warrior from Shiro and chose that their paths differed. This was why he now stood next to Lady Telperiën. Not to merely test the Warrior, but to strengthen his resolve. Awenyyd had made sure he understood that it takes many Masters to truly forge the worth of a Blade, and for Shiro, it would take the same. She left him with the design, and left the choice of those who would weild him up to him. This was his path. When they entered Lady Qaela's reception, the young Sith stepped off to the side. This was this business of Masters, not his. He was but a witness to the moment. He could feel his heart beating the drums of war, but his expression stayed cold and slated. Only the words of his Master forced his stature to change, Shiro bowing to one knee just as he did during his approach to Telperiën during his last encounter with her Mother, his fist placed over his heart. For the first time since his arrival, Shiro spoke, his words echoing of his intent to both his Master and her creator. "I am but a Blade." Shiro's voice came across blunt, but respectful, the hiss of the ironed lung inhaling between his words. "I will bath myself in your enemies." With that said, he withdrew himself and returned to his previous position, idle and in silence as they continued.
    1 point
  22. “Mother, what of the Jedi apprentices they likely have there?” Telperien spoke plainly as she took the rank cylinder and slipped it into one of the hardened leather pouches at her side. “Surely they need not be killed?”
    1 point
  23. Akheron felt Inmortos long before the ship even rounded into sight. He recalled the same feeling he had felt above Geonosis, where the necromancer and warrior had first met. Cold, not of the ocean but of the death of all life that clung to him. He was intrigued as to how his apprentice would find the feeling. He didn't have time to ponder more as a great ice spear jutted by him, missing by inches and impaling the gungan he was about to slice. He then heard the voice upon the force and returned it in kind before continuing the wanton slaughter, slaughter which fed the Dark. "Welcome Inmortos. Feel free to join in and reap what dead you desire." At his apprentice suggestion, he nodded approvingly as the last of the Colo Claw Fish were rended in twain. It appeared he was so far making up for his blunder, not that it would spare him Akheron's wrath. Moving forwards another gungan met his end when Akheron's saber split him from groin to brain after he redirected the spear he held and removed the arm before he grasped another by the skull and crushed it like pulp between his crushgaunt enclosed hand. And yet he decided to not have all the fun, allowing two rather foolhardy gungans to approach Inmortos craft, fully knowing it was to their doom.
    1 point
  24. Concern flashed across Aidan's face as she dropped his hand, and he felt it too, uneasiness. Wait. No. Why did he feel uneasy? Nevermind. "I mean, I can make you feel better if you like..." Aidan took her hand and trailed a sensual finger up her scarred wrists, wounds of an old battle with herself, the battleground torn asunder, corpses in the trenches, smoke, burning flesh, wailing- "STOP!" He found himself with his hands to his head, fingers dug into his scalp as if he were trying to tear something free. This was ƃuoɹʍ. No it wasn't. Relax, get a hold of yourself, you're making a scene. Look at her, you're scaring her, she's practically got tears in her yellow eyes. Wait. Green. Green eyes. He loved those eyes, he could get lost in them. Lost forever, drifting away until the rot took him and made him nothingness incarnate, a mouth into the void of the abyss, the look returned, he-who-was, fuel for the passions of the universe. Wai- Relax. Focus. She is your light, your beacon, your 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 for existence. Worship her. "I think...I think you're right...why...maybe you should punish mm- ...Nno..." It's about now that you're going to start panicking. Fight it. It just makes it worse. Just 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐗 and enjoy yourself. You've earned it.
    1 point
  25. Oh. Well then. Aidan took her by the shoulder and sat her on the bed, wrapping the blanket around her before sitting down next to her. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry that happened to you." She could hear the regret in his voice at the apology, as if he was pained over not having been present. He struggled with words for a moment before giving up, nothing could really speak to a personal tragedy like that. After a moment, however, he got an idea and decided to change tack. "So when I was first learning to make use of the Force under the Knights, I'd gone on several...well, I guess the only way to put it is a frenzied rage. I'm not sure what specifically happened, but I do know it was because I wasn't tapping into the Force correctly. I was allowing my emotions to control me, and it was resulting in these blackout episodes where I mercilessly slaughtered my enemies on the battlefield. I never gave them the chance to surrender, instead viciously and rapidly cutting them down as fast as I could." He took a sip of his own coff, bracing himself to finally admit the truth to someone. If anyone had to hear it, he wanted it to be her, and if he couldn't help her in her misery at least he could show her he had his own. "I can never really remember what happened, even if I try. I blocked the memories out so hard that I did something to myself, like scar tissue in the mind's eye. But the memories are still there, all of them, in vivid detail, and...I know this because sometimes I still dream about them. About a month ago one of the faces I saw was a young Trandoshan. He couldn't have been much more than an adolescent of his species, and he...he was terrified as I cut through him. He was terrified when I approached. And when I left, his corpse still had a look of shock and horror. He shouldn't have even been in that slaver camp, anyone's guess why he was there. And he...was only armed with a connector wrench." Aidan stopped, letting it hang in the air a long moment before continuing. "I can still see his face from my dream. I wasn't going to tell anyone, I mean you can't really change the past, you can only change who you are in the future. Eventually I'd probably let myself forget his face and it would simply be another story lost to time. But...you deserve to know. At the least, I know that it sucks to live with something like that." He wanted to ask her about how strongly he'd felt her emotions and thoughts, but there would be time for that later. Right now, he was more worried for her wellbeing. He put an arm around her, pressing up against the blanket around her so he could hold her close. "I love you. I just want you to be okay."
    1 point
  26. The silver handles dropped from her hand and it fell onto the sweat stained sheets. She took another breath and let it out through her clenched teeth. Letting the sensation of the cool breath playing across her lips calm her beating heart. But the eyes were still there. Seared with the power of a sunbeam into the back of her eyelids. She trembled, feeling like the little apprentice again. The apprentice trapped behind bounded iron. Screaming in the dark. Her hand found itself on her abdomen, and she let the tears fall freely. This was not something to conceal, the force had brought the memories back up, and it was time to do something other than shoving them back into an already stuffed bottle. She had no strength for that any more, and he was here beside her. Her totem, the bright spot she always looked to. She looked up with tear filled eyes and nodded. The nodding brought her conviction. And the sight of his face, even through the tears, brought her the strength she needed to get out of bed. She could almost laugh at the audacity of a Jedi Master having had an episode like this, but that in itself had some dark truths. She had seen and done so much in her short twenty three years of living that many considered her one of the beacons of the Order. She had been there for every fight in the last half of a decade, and it had left her run down. Run to pieces in the ever revolving, ever grinding galactic war. She had seen peace, but it had been in peace that she had experienced her greatest trauma. Perhaps that was why she kept running. Mission after mission. Grinding herself into the dust so that she did not need to take a breath. She shook her head and pulled on a light outer tunic that had been dropped from her satchel. Not much against prying eyes but he had seen everything anyway. She accepted a steaming mug of caf and gave him a grateful smile. “Yes. I think I do need to talk about it. It happened when I was very young. During my first year of apprenticeship.” She left her mind open to him as she spoke. “We had been dispatched alongside the CoreSec outerring force to crack down on a slaver ring at Thallassia.” She laughed brutally. “I didn’t even have my real saber yet. Just a training one given to me by Master Adenna.” She shrugged and wiped at one of her eyes with her sleeve. “You can guess how it went. They were ready for us. And a training saber does not do much against determined resistance.” She took a long sip of her caf, and looked Aidan in the eye. “And I was captured and tortured, both physically and...well. You can guess the rest. I have been running from that ever since.”
    1 point
  27. Background Theme - The Force Theme Extended Simka let out a breath of relief once Master Leena finally got back around to assist him. As she took over healing the Duros from the inexperienced Hopeful, the latter could only watch the literal Master work in absolute amazement. The way Master Leena used the Force and the way her presence felt in it was more amazing than what Simka could describe in words. He listened intently as she spoke, absorbing her instructions like a sponge. Simka had never been interested in the healing aspects of the Force before this, but now, he had to admit they were certainly no joke. The Hopeful followed the Master's instructions to letter, closing his eyes and withdrawing deep within himself. As the Master instructed, the Hopeful recalled his earliest lessons. His aunt's guidance, opening his mind and body up to the Force for the very first time alongside his crèche-mates. How he had opened himself up to the endless ocean of light, letting it gush down into his own self like an ethereal waterfall and cleanse away his woes and ills. Simka now reached out for that same light, letting it fall into him. This time, however, with a few deep breaths, he removed himself from the equation. Instead of falling into him, he let it flow through him, becoming a conduit and channeling the revitalizing flow through both his hands into the anaesthetized Duros' injured body. "Whoa," the Mirialan gasped. The flow of the Force filled Simka with renewed vigor, even though he was only a conduit instead of a recipient. The spiritual residue bequeathed to the Mirialan a newfound surge in vitality. More than that, Simka experienced a profound euphoria, a feeling of total bliss that could not be described in words. A superlative serenity, affixed in the deepest chambers of his heart, one that reassured him that what Simka had just done was something beyond. Beyond the wars, the politics, the divided allegiances, the sectarianism and all the conflicts and discontent that plagued the Galaxy, what Simka had just done was something... Irreproachable. Immaculate. Pure. As the Duros' body mended itself and the Hopeful innately knew it was time to withdraw, Simka turned back towards Master Leena, mouth slightly agape. He stumbled backwards a bit, as the euphoria from acting as a conduit of the Living Force settled down, suddenly feeling awkward and... bereft. "T-That was, I..." he quietened, simply staring at Leena, seeing her in a new light. Pure unadultered amazement sparkled in his pristine aquamarine eyes as he continued to stare at her. This is what she did, what she experienced, every day?! "... Incredible."
    1 point
  28. Upon the impact of the blast, Tros cut the power to his jetpack and landed on the ground in a very wobbly way. He stood for a moment, observing and taking in the full scene of carnage of the small battlefield. Vulios dead on one end. A knocked out jetii on the other. Letting out a sigh, he walked towards the jetii, picking up her lightsaber as he did. Each step sent pain throughout his leg from the place of where the lightsaber struck on his thigh. The pain now very evident since adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, and since it was the first time since taking the blow that he even put weight upon it. As he got to the jetii, he leaned down on his good knee, activating the lightsaber in his left hand to avoid the potential pain within his right arm where the jetii also struck. He was a bit disappointed that the blast didn't kill her, only knocked her out. "I would love to kill you today jetii. You killed my mentor. You deserve it." Tros lowered the blade to rest upon the right shoulder of the jetii. Not enough to do anything other than burn through her arm slightly. After he knew that it caused as much damage as he took, he leaned in to whisper into her ear. "And I know that somewhere within your head, you can hear me. So I'm saying this as a warning. You are going to be my messenger for all of the Jetiise." He then moved the blade to rest upon her right thigh where she also struck. Again, only letting the blade sit long enough to burn and cause as much damage as he received from her. "Twice now in the past few days I have had a jetii become a problem to me. Doing damage beyond what they should, and ignorantly thinking that they are gods of some sort. You are no more than a being how bleeds and dies like everyone else. And because of your ignorance, my clans... my House... We are now fully at war with you jetiise. We will burn, destroy and kill your kind everywhere we can." Tros now stood up and held the blade over her stomach. She would be the message to the entire jetiise. "Let's see your precious 'force' save you from this." With his final word, Tros slammed the blade into her lower abdomen. He let it sit for a moment before he deactivated the blade. "Congratulations jetii, you are now at war with the Mandalorians." Without taking another look, he began to walk towards the location of where Vulios's body lay. He knew that she would survive her wounds, far better than what Vulios did. As he came to his body, he kneeled down and placed his buy'ce upon his mentor's buy'ce. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." After he spoke his words, he picked up his mentor's beskad and placed it upon his own weapon armament. At that moment, Sutu arrived and looked at the field of carnage. "Alor, most of the city is now burning... did the jeti do this?" He pointed at Vulios's body. Tros simply looked at the sky for a moment, watching it burn. "Yes. From this point on, we are at war with the jetiise. Collect the gear of the fallen. We have much to prepare."
    1 point
  29. Pain and hatred swirled in her head like a tornado, feeding off each other, fueling the inferno that coursed through her mind. The holes torn in her shoulder now burned, embers had found their way into the wound and festered. The pain had become intoxicating. As her nerves were seared under the older flames, there was an odd sense of euphoria. Her left shoulder still burned, but with less intense pain. The fire however still raged across her right shoulder, and had found a balance as it scorched her flesh. She sucked in the pain, internalizing it and enthralling herself in the sick pleasure she felt. There was an ear drum shattering pop in that moment of indulgence, followed almost instantly by an equal explosion. Her instinct sharp, and the force as her guide, she leapt into a long roll to her immediate left. The metal shavings plunged into the joints of her prosthetic leg. The flame on her back flickered in the roll, but had spread down her back. Her knee and ankle clicked resiliently as she stood. Something had become jarred, it hadn't rendered the leg immobile, but a great degree of force was required to move it as normal. Kahla sneered as she turned to the flea ridden mongrel. He had made the mistake of putting one of his men in her path to him. She started a maddened sprint towards them, the loose soil almost hardened to stone under the pressure of her force aided tear across the field. Pure agony and fury drove her forward, through the infuriating defiance of her metallic leg. The next two canisters of flechettes were nearly vaporized by the burning crimson plasma of her lightsaber, cut down in a wide flick of her left hand. In her right, the saber blinked away before she stowed it on her belt. With both hands she gripped her left saber tight, lifting the blade over the smoldering flames before bringing it down with the might of pure rage that had festered inside her, seeking to cleave the soldier from shoulder to hip. Lost in the reverie of the burning that tortured her back, she carried the momentum back up and into an opposite sided slice, from the other shoulder nearer to the lower chest. Her attention turned quickly to her wolfen foe, who now brandished a blade of his own, her right hand loosing its grip as she brought her saber over her right shoulder. Kahla sprung forward, her robes struggling to keep up with her as they flew in the breeze. She drew her right handed blade from its rest, holding the inert hilt outstretched as she brought her first blade down in a wide, arching slash; the force pulled at her arm like a rope tied it to a speeder. At the apex of the swing her second blade whirred back to life, quickly following the firsts path with equal speed and precision. The scarlet hues danced and blended with the bright oranges and yellows of the fire that roared across her back. Her mind was almost trapped under the seething and boiling of her exterior, the fire itself became the nourishment of her rage and she embraced the pain like a loving mother would her child. ((Offensive Actions)) ((Defensive Actions/Damage Taken)) ((3)) ((This was a great duel, I had an absolute blast writing it!))
    1 point
  30. If there was one thing that he remembered, it was his time in the private security company Arasuul. He hadn’t had a good training session in ages, but the instincts were still there, even if they took longer than he would have liked. Up went the clipboard, tossed as a distraction as his hand found his level three retention holster. Down press the thumb, rock the heavy blaster forward, then up along the torso into a position of firing near his stomach. Then depress the trigger. He could feel himself slapping the trigger in the excitement of the moment, something his instructors always told him not to do. But he had not practised the long drills in over a year. So this would have to do, and the entire area was lighting up around him. His sights settled onto the creature who’s scythes were currently severing the arteries of Nathaniel Krisferi. A nice guy. And someone who certainly, at least in this guards opinion, did not deserve to be cut down like a nerf sow. The sights settled for a moment and his eye only saw the front post of the blaster and he let loose with everything. Almost in slow motion he could see one of his brilliant crimson blaster bolts slam into the side of the creature’s neck. Blowing through flesh and bone. Killing the Jensaari Defender almost instantly. Pitching him into the dark, sun beaten dust of Ryloth. Of course the guard himself did not last much longer, and a bolt of Jude’s caught him under the chin and pitched him into the crumpled wrappers of his cookies. It had only taken a few seconds, but hundreds of rounds were expended, the front gate guards were dead. And every single alarm was blaring in the slaver facility.
    1 point
  31. The beast flung about, scraping against the passageway, lighting the darkness with a shower of sparks as it’s flat armored tail carved a groove in the coral stoney wall. It tried to follow Edelmor, but failed, it’s claws snapping in the darkness as it’s eyestalks darted about looking for it’s prey; much wilier than it had expected. Still it searched, even as a subtle presence began to play about it’s mind. To such a simple creature, emotions too were a simple thing. Hunger, safety, survival, propagation. Responses were gauged and guided by these simple things, and yet here, where it now felt threatened, a sense of serenity seemed to be falling over the beast. Perhaps, just perhaps, things were not that bad. And then, by some incomprehensible force, the beast could see itself. Looking through the eyes of Lok was not something it understood or could comprehend; what it saw was reality, wether it was fact or fiction. At the same time, a pulse of dark side energy surged through the shaft, buffeting the mind of the beast any any not prepared to withstand it. “yox. mənə sehrbazlar gətir. digərlərini öldürün.” The creature whipped about, stoked back to a frenzy. It’s mind not it’s own, but it’s actions pure instinct. Claws, tail, and boney plates raked the walls. It’s speared legs pierced the boxes it stepped on, scattered detonators and devices amongst the explosive compound on the floors. Wet gutteral cries echoed from it’s maw and it’s claws snapped at whatever might fall prey to them. Through Skyshatter’s eyes, the beast felt threatened by what it could only see was the presence of another, and what more, other intruders as well. In a fury the beast attacked, shambling about chaotically as it could not grasp that from where it saw and where it was were any different, slamming into walls and crushing whoever and whatever was in it’s path. ((NOT GONNA ACT THE TROOPERS PART. WILL ALLOW YOU TO DO THAT AS YOU SEE FIT))
    1 point
  32. The plan had broke down. Tilt cursed in his head as the guards were now readying their weapons, and the moment the Jensaarai out his finger on his own pistol Tilt acted swiftly. With experienced speed seemingly unfathomable, Tilt pulled his own blaster pistol out in a flash, already picked his targets and fired his weapon in order. Blaster bolts found the face and throat of two guards, and the next one finding its way into the gut of the one leading the guards. He then quickly unholstered his blaster rifle with one arm, slinging the weapon from his underarm until he had the weapon at it's trigger and grip and started firing. . Dual wielding a pistol and a rifle was inaccurate, however in his time in the military Tilt learned to improvise for better results. The rifles aim was off by a tad, not enough to completely miss all shots but enough to either find their homes in the body of his enemy or to make the enemy take cover. Tilt's pistol was on point nearly, however that same headache came rushing back. And as soon as the head pain reached its limit something snapped in Tilts head almost like bones popping in his ears. . Tilts, "Killswitch," Was flipped, the same he's done before many times against the CIS, an inhumane soldier against emotionless machine. And slowly his vision was filled with the droids instead of guards, and the allies he was with turned into either militia or other Clones. He was going to lose his mind, and it wouldn't end until someone muttered a key phrase he's heard and relaxed to over and over. For now he was focused on the mission at hand... An infiltration into a CIS compound turned awry, and reinforcements were not an option.
    1 point
  33. Jude's attention shifted through his surroundings like lightning, his heard thumped heavily in his chest as a bead of cold sweat dripped down his forehead. As guards poured in, weapons drawn, the tension rose within him. Azael was doing everything in her power to keep things from escalating any farther, there were still people inside counting on them for rescue. No such luck. They raised their weapons and demanded surrender. For a moment he froze, waiting on a signal. He scanned the faces of his new comrades, the tension in his muscles now almost unbearable. In his mind he begged for Azael to give an order, a sign, something. She'd done so well as lead of the operation so far, for a moment Jude was excited to see how she handles combat. The moment the Jensaarai shifted the tension broke, and with a twitch Jude drew his pistol from its holster and aimed a bolt at their initial greeter with practiced efficiency. He shifted his finger to the second trigger, lifting the pistol level to his eye as he pointed to the farther group. The pistol jumped back as the heavy, explosive bolt left the second barrel. Jude slid the pistol back into its holster with a grin as he reached for the rifle on his back, steadily walking back to put some distance between them and his DMR, letting loose a volley at the guards by the gate. He had faith in his omen, nothing would bring him down, nothing could slow his drive.
    1 point
  34. The Sith officer was clearly shaken. Good. He deserved to be frightened. He stepped forwards, his shoes echoing across the hard floor as he walked closer, closer. Until he stood mere feet before the man. He glanced down at his glass, frowning unhappily to find it empty. Perhaps he liked the drink more than he cared to admit. He shrugged nonchalantly, placing the empty glass on a table. He would retrieve it later. On the surface, his home was immaculate, with no traces of dusk, dirt, or grime to be seen even in the darkest corners. Anyone who was attuned with the Force would see the grandiose building for what it really was- an accursed place, tainted by Krath Umbra's dark powers. He tilted his head as the man stood awkwardly in the center of the main room, the main door behind him left ajar. "You're a very... interesting man, Captain Alexi. Born and raised on Kuat, you enlisted in the Sith Navy to protect it once we took the planet from the Rebels. And you did an admirable job of it too! Not a single rebel attack under your watch- a flawless record, and on such an important world! It's no wonder you rose through the ranks so quickly, keeping such an important part of our Empire safe." The man seemed thrown off, mumbling his words. "Thank you, my lord." Umbra gave a warm smile that hid his vitriol and disgust. "No, thank you! Without you, the Rebels could have infiltrated our shipyards, unchecked by our leadership, and made off with our precious star destroyers. It's a wonderful thing that such a thing never happened, yes?" The man's eyes grew wide with fear. The mouse had realized the trap, but it was too late. "I-" Umbra cut the man off, continuing the charade. There was a point to it, after all, and to have this man interrupt would ruin his fun. "Those ships, in rebel hands, could be used to fight our forces on even footing. They could attack our shipyards, our people's worlds. Surely you understand why it's imperative that such a thing never happens?" He let out a sad sigh. "You had such a promising career. You had a wife, children! The Sith need men like that. But that's not what you are. In truth, your shipyards were infiltrated, the Rebels took your ships, and used them to steal our worlds at Fondor and Mon Cal. They almost took Kuat, too. Only the interference of the Spider and his Sith Lords saved your world." The man tried to run, and Umbra rolled his eyes. He gestured with his hand, and the door slammed shut. "You will die a coward then."
    1 point
  35. Shiro sat in silence within the rear of the shuttle, the rememberable echoes of the meek crying and screaming in his mind as his gaze peered at the metal above in ecstasy. So fragile, so unprotected, the gaze of hate and sorrow filling the children's eyes. The moment was one that he enjoyed and wanted to process, taking in the memory of the smell, the taste, the sights, everything. And in this, he smiled. As his Master's voice entangled his mind, the memory was foreclosed and he sat upright, his blackened gaze wavering in the rush as he placed his helm in arm and rose to a stand. Her words were true, and Felucia had proved it. He was tired of relying on mere weapons and strategy. He wanted more strength in the Force. He wanted to explore more of himself. He wanted to be a weapon of mass destruction. Only then would he know his true path as a Warrior, and when he did, blossom like the blood flower. The rumor mill had already been lit aflame with the disappearence of the Dark Lord, soldiers abound with conversations about who would take his place. And in truth, Shiro had been disappointed by this. But his place was not to engage in such trivial matters, but rather, hone his skills and elevate his own stature. And so, with the Spider falling and his web erased, Shiro paid little heed in the grand scheme of things. A King fallen only meant another would rise. Or perhaps a Queen. As long as they were willing to use his blade in the sights of peace through war. That's all that matters. In Darkness, there is Chaos. In Chaos, there is destruction. And from destruction, Order is born. And from Order, there is peace. Only through Darkness, can Peace be attained, enforced and sustained by the Strong. This is why the Republic always falls. This is why Dictatorships fall. Warlords are those only capable. This is the truth Shiro found in the Darkened Abyss, and where he was truly born. As he and his Master stepped foot aboard Herløv, his Master distracted by another Lord, Shiro simply stood to the side in uniform, awaiting his Master's call.
    1 point
  36. “Ma’am, I don’t really care if I piss you off. And in fact, you showing up with all these clowns in tow tells me you aren’t actually here to do anything but cause trouble. And now you are threatening me and my men.” He shook his head and the blasters of the security team aimed steadily at the arrogant Chiss. If she somehow thought threatening him over doing his job would get her any further towards the big boss then she was surely mistaken. “What kind of holofilom do you think this is?” The second guard group approached from the gate, their blasters also up and at the ready. “No each of you I want you to slow and surely drop any weapons you have holstered, and take off any masks of helmets you have.”
    1 point
  37. Kirlocca sat in the main hold of a transport ship holding out a training lightsaber to Johan. The hilt was suspended in the air through the use of the Force as the Jedi Master walked in a pacing line across from his apprentice. The hilt would remain suspended until his apprentice grasped the hilt form himself. His words were soft yet strong. The boy would have known that Kirlocca wanted him to do well, but also knew that he wouldn't be happy if he wasn't putting his full focus forward. << The blade itself is weightless, making it a difficult weapon to wield. One must have the Force flowing through them in order to not accidently cut off their own limbs. Such control takes a few times to really know, but takes years to fully master it without any question. Upon such mastery comes other benefits, such as movement completely unhindered, knowing how quickly one can move the blade, or even to know how to move the blade in a way that it moves better than an extension of your own body. >> Kirlocca now paused and turned towards Johan, withdrawing and activating his own lightsaber he received as a gift from Tobias Vos. The familiar snap-hiss brought the orange blade to life, and the light from it seemed to take over the entire hold of the shuttle. << With the Force, one can learn to predict movements, attack and defend without any question as to where their blade will land. Every Jedi begins with Shii-Cho, the very first and basic form of lightsaber combat. From there, the options of forms increases. A total of 8 forms are within our order. More if ones are broken down, and smaller ones expanded upon. Some choose to learn many, but hold no true mastery over one. Other prefer to understand the basics and leave it at that. Others, such as myself devote to one form and become a master of it, having no other rivals in the form. But I also did this through crafting my own, Wru'torr; the form of discipline. >> Without another word, the Wookiee leapt at Johan with his own orange blade, wanting the boy to get used to what an attack from another blade could feel like.
    1 point
  38. Kirlocca turned and felt for the boy. He could sense the swirling emotions down below the surface. He managed to keep them off his face, but in the presence of a Jedi Master, no such feelings were exempt from being felt. The Wookiee placed his paw upon the boy's shoulder and gave a soft look. << I will aide you in some basics- but be warned. This mission will leave something upon you. Whether it be a physical scar, emotional or some other kind. You must be prepared to accept it, and learn from it. For now, consider such words. We will leave at once for Sullust. I will give you a quick lesson along the way. >> Kirlocca said no more. He turned and walked towards the spaceport in order to find a ship that could transport them to Sullust and provide enough room for the boy to learn some basics about the lightsaber. ((I will post in space to give you an intro lesson and let you make a post or two before we arrive.))
    1 point
  39. Tros could feel his rage and anger getting stronger as the flames and spread all around. His HUD was now tracking the jetii, but with some strain, as the flames around caused the body heat to blend in slightly. Her outline and a small trace of health stats were the main things he was able to track, and only barely. She began to move and the Mandalorian knew within an instant that he had to stop pouring into the flames and get ready for a more defensive action, or an offensive action. As he stopped pouring the flames, he realized his time frame was shorter than expected, as the jetii was moving quicker then he was prepared for. With little time to think, Tros picked up both vambraces in cross like fashion and bent himself low in protection against the oncoming lightsaber's blade. The swing felt wild and chaotic, his vambraces catching some of it and slowing down a majority of deadly swing. Him bending low had the blade catch his upper right shoulder, cutting through his right pauldron, but not fully. His arm burned as the blade took out the tech equipment on both vambraces, but did not cut through the vambraces due to the pure beskar. Tros knew he was vulnerable, so he quickly blasted himself into the air with his jetpack to avoid letting the jetii make anymore attempts at him. Upon getting into the air, he looked down and his HUD showed a chaotic scene of heat and a now very blurry outline with health stats that blended into the entire scene below. While he knew that at his current height and distance away from the jetii, using his rocket on his jetpack would also cause for him to get caught in the blast slightly. He decided within less than a millisecond that it was better to use it and end the jetii versus letting this entire fight drag on. Simultaneously he curled himself into a ball to better protect against the blast that would follow as he launched the rocket on his jetpack in the general direction of where the jetii was last at. ((3)) Tros took the blade against his right shoulder, putting a massive cut into his upper arm and lost all of his tech on both vambraces. Fired a rocket at Alcmene at a close-ish range.
    1 point
  40. As Sir Tarko and Lady Andromina began their descent into the tunnel ahead, Lok quickly followed, glowrod in hand to illuminate their way. Although the entrance was well lit, Lok noticed areas of darkness beyond, and given the rapidly decline that came after their descent, it aided in the mush of clay and footing. Steps would need to taken with caution and firm placement, and the mind would need to be on active alert. It wouldn't bold well to blindly charge into the dark. Adjusting the glowrod in dependence on the level of lighting in the darkened intervals as they went, Lok followed behind Sir Tarko and Lady Andromina with cautious alert. Occasionally, Lok would overtly trust his footing and feel it give way briefly, clay kicking up onto his armor and gloves as he retracted his footing and found a more firm setting, the use of his hands to keep his core balance. But for the most part, the descent was casual with the men behind them bringing up the rear. Gazing across the pathway, it looked rather traversed from his vantage point, and here and there, it seemed new rails had been recently replaced, giving Lok the feeling that they were on the right track. But Lok couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and spied upon in the shadows of the tunnel. Try as he might to disregard the goosebumps scattering across his skin and the manipulation of his mind as the cold damp air of the tunnel, he simply couldn't. "Be mindful." Lok forwarned as they approached an opening in the tunnel, it's emptiness more than it should have been, with the rusted replaced rails strewn about. As the men fanned out once again, Lok brought the glowrod down and investigated the ground for tracks in the clay, but only found numerous jumbled together. "Could be a trap nearby..." Just as he uttered the words, a loud bang erupted a bit past their location, causing weapons to be drawn and minds to go to full alert. Then came the Crustacean's gutteral roar as it came into view. Lok was surprised by it's size and quickly threw the glowrod to his side as he pulled forth his lightsaber with intent to activate. But the sight of explosives laying about quickly hindered his draw. Given the Crustacean's armored form, and the intensity of the Lightsaber's blade, it could easily cause a flash explosion should a single spark ignite the explosives, decayed or not. "Still your weapons!" Lok yelled above the creature's roar as he reached into the Force, attempting to meld his mind with those around him in his overtly alertness to the potential of the weapons causing an explosion. "A single spark of either weapon upon the shell of the Crustacean could ignite us into the afterlife." Ignoring the hauntingly darkened voice as much as he could, whether his own internal voice managed to cross the threshold of the others, Lok turned his attention in the Force to that of the beast. Hopefully Sir Tarko could understand his intent as he began to attempt to hide their presence from the beast in its own mind.
    1 point
  41. He had spent the last while thinking, Johan did not think that Consular was the path he wanted (not that he knew enough of the different paths to say for sure) but he would would look into it in more detail... after Sullust that is. "I will accompany you master, while I could use more training I believe I can still contribute something to the war effort. could we work more on the lightsaber forms you started us on while enroute? and maybe a basic force technique?" Johan asked determined. After this he would need to take time off to train but he wanted to help secure a true victory after the horror show that the last mission proved to be.
    1 point
  42. Marvelous, Edelmor thought. He'd never been good with insects, even giant aquatic ones. Actually...maybe especially those. No, it was just another enemy, another problem, despite how disturbing it was, how his eyes kept being drawn to the horrible, gnashing, grabbing mouth. Sighing, he stepped forward. "I shall serve not myself, only others," he muttered under his breath, the line of the oath centering him, settling his ruffled nerves. He remembered the feeling he'd experienced in the streets above, the peace of a people united, of a true Empire. He considered the chaos they were fighting to prevent. The knight activated his lightsaber, then twirled it in smooth, humming arcs as he circled the angry crustacean. "I'll distract it. I should be mobile enough, and I bet it likes bright lights like most bugs and fish. Once we collect those explosives so it doesn't accidentally set them off by stepping on one, we can be on our way. The sooner, the better." The voice was getting to him, and he was sure he wasn't alone in that. This thing, whatever it was, seemed to almost be mocking them.
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  43. “I would say that this qualifies as a sign.” Darth Nyrys said wryly, pulling the almost dead Sith Lord to his feet. Her muscles felt a little cramped, as if she had been holding the same position for days, but she dismissed it easily, she was no stranger to pain. Even in his armor she was able to lift Darth Mavanger to his feet with relative ease. The politics and mistrust of other Sith were far less present among the warriors, who put greater emphasis on utility than ambition. “I’ll get you to medevac so that they can have you back in the fight in no time.” When they reached the guards she had left at the door, she ordered them to call in a shuttle to rendezvous at the throne room, might as well kill two birds with one stone and see if the Naboo could provide any inspiration for her own eventual throne room. It was one of life’s great ironies that the creatively minded were so often opposed to the same institutions that were in the best positions to allow them to express their talents. The Naboo had a beautiful culture that was built upon the mass graves of many gungans, not that they ever mentioned that bit. The self righteous always wanted peace, after they had gotten their fill of conquest.
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  44. Beth followed Knight Skyshatter as they descended, her four troopers fanning out behind her. Their mood was a good key as to their feelings on the mission and they seemed to be using their squad helmet comms to make commentary and jokes as they walked. Which kept Beth’s hopes up as to their destination. She pushed to the head and led the way down the central passage as Knight Tarko had desired. Her helmet searching for thermal signatures.
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  45. Simka had been so absorbed in focusing on his breathing cycle and releasing his emotions into the Force, that he did not even register the Mon Calamari until she spoke, startling the green-skinned Mirialan. "W-Whoa," he managed to gasp out as he looked at her, expression akin to a cattail deer caught in headlights. It took him a moment to regain enough composure to realize that he was talking to Jedi Master Leena Kil of all people. The two had never interacted before; Simka certainly would have remembered if they had. But he had grown up in this Temple, so naturally he knew all the Jedi Masters that lived or served here, at least by reputation Leena Kil was certainly one of the Jedi Masters whose repute preceded them. In fact, it would not be far-fetched to say that the Hopeful had somewhat of a fanboy. Leena Kil and Armiena Draygo were the kinds of Masters that had their own fan clubs. "Master Kil!" he gulped, before giving a short boy. Then he registered what she had said, and gulped. He did not want her of all people to experience what he was feeling. He didn't want one of his heroes to think he was a potential future dark sider or anything. Just the thought of that was scary. "I-I'm sorry," he explained, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't wish to give into to grief or anger, I just..." Lowering his hands, Simka looked around the Temple, before sighing. "They're so... vile, aren't they?" his gaze was distant as he spoke, referring obviously to Sith, the lingering remnant's of the Dark Side's presence at the very furthest edges of his senses. "I just feel so helpless. I wish I was strong enough to beat them all..." @Leena Kil
    1 point
  46. Tros watched from afar as his shots moved at the jetii, holding ground to what she had attempted, two shots she deflected back towards him, but at such a distance he was able to move himself from one, taking another to his upper right pauldron. It stung and he didn't even have to look to know it would leave a mark there. The blast however from his third round rapidfire shot found it's mark, lighting up a small firework show for him to observe from his high vantage over her. His enjoyment was short lived, as he could tell almost immediately that the jetii was not slowing down. She intended to take away the two on one. From his distance, he already knew his aid to Vulios wouldn't be much, but he had to try. Rushing downward and quick, he swung his rifle back to rest upon his back and before he could even make a move towards his blasters, he realized what Vulios was doing. He was drawing the jetii in, letting her expose herself to an attack from Tros at his own sacrifice. Tros cut his jetpack off and dropped to the ground quickly and took aim with his right vambrace. The first shot of his electro-dart fired off before her blade moved through him, Vulios still firing to keep her body turned at him as to avoid being able defend against the one coming from behind. Tros quickly let his other two darts fly out as the blade cut through Vulios' upper chest to lower neck region. Another dart being another electro-dart while the other was a poison dart. Without another breath to take, Tros screamed angrily at the jetii as he pushed his flamethrower down. The heat and intensity of it matched the anger and hate that seemed to be venomously pouring out of him and being replaced with even more rage. The fire began to burn the grass around the area of which he targeted,causing what tress and grass that were not on fire to join in on the glorious surrounding buildings that were already ablaze. She would die, and he would make her feel every bit of her own death. ((2)) Took a deflected bolt into his right pauldron. Vulios took the blade knowing it would end him to draw Alcmene in. Tros fired off all three of his darts. 2 electro, 1 poison. Flamethrower was activated in general direction and began to burn the ground.
    1 point
  47. Lok went down with the first detachment of Stormtroopers, his gaze shifting about the steel carriage during the descent and a few words of small talk uttering out his mouth about the length of time and wonderment of how far down it went and what it likely led to, his intent to ease the tension that lingered from their mounting the lift. Lok had very few interactions with the rank and file of the Imperial Remnant, and given the history that he endured before leaving the Jedi Order by Imperial Soldiers, it wasn't much of a surprise. But it had been years, and grudges weren't his fortitude. Now days, he treated such strangers with awkward shyness and overtly blabbering. Still, it always managed to somehow work in his favor with a few words returned. When they departed the lift and stood upon the precipice of the cavern, Lok stepped to it's center as the Troopers fanned out, the Imperial Knight observing the area both with his sight and within the Force. A semblance of the Darkside presided down here in much more concentrated form, but he still relinquished the lift for the others to arrive behind them as his awareness amplified. The smell of death and decay down here barely phased Lok, his top atop having adjusted his senses to it, but either way, given what happened here at Mon Cal, he was on alert. Perverse traps laid by the Sith could lurk around every corner, and before he made an attempt to investigate outside the immediate perimeter, he would await for the others to arrive. And wait, he did. Grabbing a glowrod from his pouch, he activated it, worrisome about the potential for explosion if he used his Lightsaber as he searched the dusty ground for tracks and search the laid about containers for hints of what laid within. Most of it was mining equipment, some held medical kits, but none offered any guidance of the thieves they were after. As the others disembarked, he would meet them with a notice and a wave as he searched, the distant trickling of water and sounds of falling rocks playing in the foreground. That was, until the unleased feeling of doom washed over them and the ghostly voice echoed throughout the chamber. Shifting his gaze toward it's directional output, Lok attempted to arrive at his location through his natural senses, but he couldn't tell if it had come from one or the other tunnels. And even the Force found its self blind to any direction it could be located by. Lok's brow furrowed at the notion, and it left him uneased. But there wasn't much he could do and he didn't want to lead the group blindly. "I wouldn't advise splitting up at the moment as Sir Tarko advised." Lok spoke after Sir Tarko addressed the group. "Whether it's remnants of the Sith's sorcery or not, we'll stand a better chance as one unit, at least until we figure out what it is. Standing up and dusting the dirt from his hands, his gaze shifted back to Sir Tarko in answering his question after having time to come to a similar conclusion. " I concur. Given the sounds of rushing water, I highly doubt the Smugglers would have went down the right tunnel. Time consuming and takes too many chances of damaging the goods. And the left tunnel is too narrow." His gaze shifted to the left tunnel. There was something off in his mind about it. It was almost animalistic in creation. Shifting his gaze back to Sir Tarko and Lady Andromina, he finished. "The only logical path is the Center. It offers a means of transportation, a clear path provided by the Miners, and has been used recently. Commander?"
    1 point
  48. Kadi limped into the Jedi temple, relieved to see that it seemed unscathed. The Sith invasion had faltered as quickly as it had began, though not before some lost their lives. She would find her time to mourn amongst the trees and the fungal caps of the forest, but for now, her mind stayed laser focused on her goal. She would report to the Masters and see what was needed of her. She used her spear for support, the pain in her leg from her battle needling at her consciousness. She grit her teeth and pushed through it, however. She had discarded her armor, and her robe had been too damaged to salvage from the storm, so aside from her weapon that marked her as a Jedi, she resembled any number of the native refugees swarming the area. She moved from group to group, helping where she could. She was no master healer like Master Leena, but she knew enough to help these people. She had just finished helping heal a young man when she finally began to succumb to her exhaustion. She quickly found a secluded area; rather, as secluded as she could manage, letting herself lean against a wall, taking the weight off of her leg and she tried to steady her breathing. She could sense the concern from the nearby aid workers, but she waved them off with a smile whenever they tried to help her. The most she needed were some bandages and sleep- She couldn't reconcile letting the medics fuss over her when there were still so many people who needed them more. Still, she wouldn't be able to keep them at bay forever. She would find Armenia, or Sarna, and see what they needed her to do. That would be more useful than leaning against a wall trying ot catch her breath. She pushed off the wall, and was met by a wave of dizziness as she stumbled again, blinking rapidly as she leaned against her spear again for support. She looked around, getting her bearings. She was in one of the common areas, which meant the other jedi would be- She blinked again. She had no idea where the higher ranking Jedi would be running their operations. She'd never asked, and now she felt like she'd let a very important bit of information slip through her grasp. Her hand drifted to the communicator the Grandmaster had given her, but she hesitated- Armenia was definitely knee deep in disaster reports and refugees. Bothering her wasn't a good idea. A wave of lightheadedness hit her, and she stumbled a final time before collapsing against a wall. She was still conscious, but her body refused to listen to her as her eyes closed and her breathing shallowed. She was hit by yet another wave of exhaustion as she sat there, her weapon leaned against her shoulder before she finally embraced the sleep.
    1 point
  49. Edelmor's moustache quivered as he took his first breath. Needless to say, he'd be put off eating fish for a while. He'd chosen to forgo his armor, as heavy durasteel plate in a tunnel system that was in danger of flooding seemed like a poor choice on his part. His eyes narrowed, and his hand instinctively dropped to his lightsaber hilt as the cloying, cold aura passed over him. It was a sensation he had rarely felt, but he knew immediately what it was. The Dark Side. Something or someone was down here with them. Corrupt and twisted, it echoed through the Force. He could not pinpoint it, but his skin crawled as if someone unseen was standing at his shoulder, watching him. He took another deep breath, ignoring the stench, and centered himself. His emotions would not serve him here. His mind would. Clinically, quietly, he examined the situation. Their target had not changed, at least for now. The explosives still presented a major threat to the city, while this Dark Side...thing or things were unknown quantities with unknown goals and no clear location. Examining each of the paths, he considered their targets, a group of smugglers. The smaller, dark path on the left seemed unlikely. If these smugglers were moving containers of explosives, they'd want/need room to move them. The sounds of rushing water on the right hinted at the passage being flooded. Even if it was shallow enough to wade through, it still would make for a treacherous path. The center path was the most obvious and the clear preference for smugglers if they wanted to move heavy supplies underneath the city quickly. Then again, that might be too obvious. They needed to recon, find traces of the smuggler's presence, and track them back to their lair. Barring that, it would take a much larger force to sweep these tunnels, which would give away their element of surprise and potentially trigger a disaster. But first to apprise the troopers. "Perhaps some leftover sorcery of the Krath," he said in response to the troopers' questions. "It doesn't appear to be threatening us now. However, we should act under the assumption that there may be additional hostile forces present in these tunnels. I suggest we stay together, as Sir Skyshatter and myself can provide warning should whatever made that sound decide to find us." He pointed straight ahead. "The central tunnel is the obvious choice if our targets wanted easy passage. Commander, Brother Skyshatter?"
    1 point
  50. Kirlocca remained seated on the edge of Alliera's bed and looked directly at Johan and then at Alliera. << There is plenty more I think that could be said about what transpired on Mon Calamari, but none of which would bring anything to either of you until you learn more of your own growth and what it means to be a Jedi. The Light Side is a long and narrow path, but is a true calling from the Force and it brings complete peace when practiced. Training is what makes you who you are. Just as a wheel sharpens a sword, training sharpens the Jedi, solidifying them as a Knight of the Force. Your training will never end; you must be disciplined enough to remain on the path of the Light. >> Kirlocca now stood up and folded his arms as he looked directly at Johan. << We will begin to train you in some of those aspects that you seek. But is that truly the path you want to walk down? For how you speak of it would mean you seek out the path of a Jedi Consular. And once you start down that path, it will begin to forge your future...>> The Jedi master didn't really give any indication that he wanted Johan to respond right away, as he walked towards the door and held out a hand to give a signal for Johan to leave Alliera to rest. As he did so, he looked at her with a knowing look. In the past, he would have made her speak the question hovering within her mind. But somehow, he felt like this time around she needed to know his own answer before she even spoke it outloud. << You may travel as you see fit. But something tells me that while you may get something you need from traveling... You will also come back with far greater questions. You have my blessing to go. >> Kirlocca knew that such words would have Johan curious, but Alliera would understand fully. That would be okay, as his words were not for Johan, but Alliera. And he knew that her trek would provide some motivation in seeking out the answers she sought.
    1 point
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