Open Invasion Sith Invasion Of Denon

[Darth Stolas]

There was a certain buzzing in Morgan's ears through Sith channels speaking about departing ships. Darth Raze had engaged a known Sith traitor and fallen through the ground with him. Malicia was collapsing building to make a point and the front lines were marching ever forward. Distant, vague pains went through his body, more a ghost of sensation than anything real, but it sparked something furious and protective in him all the same. It all just reminded Stolas that he still had work to do.

So he didn't feel too bad when he interrupted the Jedi who had doubtless been about to say something.

"Worry not, Mr. Tionson."

When his steps took him close enough, right after his push where @Maxims Tionson nodded his head to defend and slid slightly back, he made his move. The Jedi would weather the push, only stumbling a little, but it was enough. Darth Stolas' lightsaber suddenly flicked downward and extended to twice it's normal length in an instant. It was aimed to impale Max through the chest and out his back, taking advantage of his lowered guard and focus on the Force, and perhaps expectation of a closer attack, for a surprise and potentially lethal thrust.

"Your body will be given to the Jedi so they can let you down one last time."

The Dark swirled in readiness to defend, expecting some trick perhaps involving debris or cracking the street to send them, too, plummeting to the next level down.

Meanwhile there was the issue of an escape transport. Storm Squadron had picked it up on their sensors and called it out to command, as usual, but they also had their own directives to follow. They were on interceptor duty and that included any craft near the combat zone attempting to run the blockade.

Four Arrowhead fighters broke off from the wide recon formation and chased after the escaping transport at engagement speed, quickly able to catch up before it could get far. The transport's pilot was sent a message from Storm Two that succinctly and professionally offered a chance to surrender. They had three seconds to reply and move to land before all four interceptors launched barrages of ion cannons at the transport with enough power to knock it from the sky. Either way, if it touched down the location would be transmitted to ground forces.

Four more also headed toward the Skydock, long range sensors kept running to screen for further escape craft and aerial DDF.

@Nefieslab @Logan @Forsythe Crowholde @Dread

 

[Maxims Tionson]

He reached out with the Force to spring his trap, grabbing hold of Stolas' helmet with the Force. Like hands clasped tightly on the metal, poised to move, to twist and jerk powerfully to snap the Sith's neck as he focused on striking him down. He could do it, he had the power in the Force that even if Stolas instinctively resisted it wouldn't be enough to stop it.

To stop the lethal attack from a man who had never killed... it was why he let go of the Force as he felt the saber enter his chest. Stolas would be able to feel it as Max deliberately released the attack before he was impaled.

A choice made.

A choice made decades ago, to never take a life. Something that Max had lived by for longer than the Sith in front of him had even been alive... and a choice he refused to abandon even if it meant he would die instead. People had asked him before what he would do if he had to choose between living and killing.

Well he had his answer.

"They try..."

He could feel it, could feel himself dying. There was no raging against it, no sorrow and nothing he could do even if there had been. Instead he smiled at the Sith he had faced, a much softer expression than many would expect him to look at his killer with.

"They try, Stolas, and that...?" He closed his eyes, "That means all the difference."

He slumped backwards, off the blade, to lean against the speeder. His legs gave out beneath him and he slid, bloodily, down the speeder. Still smiling softly, eyes staring up at the sky instead now.

The war was only truly just beginning but for Max it was over. It was over and war had destroyed him as he always knew that it would because he knew he would never destroy himself by going against that choice made so long ago. So, instead, he died.

He died and that was alright with him, dying without having broken who he was.

He died with his faith in the Jedi unbroken, content that they would always Try to be better.

And that made all the difference.

 

[Talak Rand]

The moment of satisfaction that he had at the fact that the man seemed upset by his words was overshadowed by the horror of the revelation of who was behind the mask. It took him a moment to place the face and voice - now swollen, bruised, and bloody - but when he did, his horror was complete.

All the power he had accumulated, all the influence he had begun to wield, and everyone - Talak included - had never suspected the anti-Force user was actually a Sith. Had he been that blind? Should he have known? But how could he?

His thoughts of the terrible things that might unfold was interrupted by the blood red lightsaber that ignited now. Talak's own saber and knife had both been lost in the collapse of the upper level, and he knew that fact sealed his fate.

The saber came forward, but the Jedi was defiant to the end. His left hand shot up, and though his whole body was pinned against the wall, the Force stopped the blade dead. The end of the saber was consumed by a vague swirl of energy just in front of the Jedi's hand. His eyes - long ago having faded from their yellow color - now simply looked into that visor. He could see them reflected in the red eyes of the helmet and remembered all he had come through. He very well could have been this same person that was now in front of him had his life not taken another path. In the moment, he realized something: despite his horror about everything the man had done, Talak absolutely couldn't believe that it wasn't hatred that filled his mind... it was pity.

It was only through fortune or the grace of the Force that Talak had narrowly evaded being this same very person. A life without knowing what it meant to have friends. A life without knowing what it meant to love or be loved. A life alone.

Empires always end... the Force is eternal... he said. And when it came his time to pass beyond this world, it would not welcome the Sith.

There was no question about what happened now. Talak could only hold back the inevitable for so long, and so he made his decision. He left it to the Force whether his final act would spare the galaxy its fate that Talak dreaded.

There is the Force, he said with finality. The energy that had held back the saber disappeared, the energy he had been funneling into himself no longer needing to be saved, his mangled right arm came up and blasted outward. The impact would likely be the hardest that the other Sith had ever felt, capable of shattering the armor of his chest and possibly break ribs as it sent him back with enough force to send him through the far stone wall.

Theme​

And as that energy ran out of him, the superheated plasma of the blade pierced through his left hand and slammed into the left side of his chest, piercing his last good lung. Thankfully, the blade would extinguish or fly away with the Sith, and Talak's body ran down the wall.

Both lungs punctured and body broken, it wouldn't be long. Despite what the holomovies liked to tell you, death was seldom instant. The best most could hope for was a death that wasn't slow, and so the Jedi sat there against the wall as he met his end. The process would only take a minute or two as he struggled to fill his lungs only to discover it futile.

Rather than focus on his pain, he forced his mind elsewhere. He thought of those he had trained in the Sith. Ender and Lilith both dead. Ana nearly killed at his hand and completely consumed by the darkness. He wished he could have saved them. He hoped that Lilith at least found peace despite all that had happened.

He thought of the friends he had made. He thought of Max and Hannibal. Both men had been there for him when he needed them more than once. They had helped him understand what it meant to trust another person. After decades of paranoia, they had helped rewrite habits and teach him what the word Jedi actually meant.

And he thought of Trys. He thought of all they had been through together. The struggles they had undergone. From his days as a Sith when they were both at odds and friends. The night they had danced together and he had first seen the Light in the galaxy. Regardless of the difficulties they had gone through, she was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

His head began to spin as blackness pulled at his vision and he closed his eyes as inky darkness swallowed him. As the pain subsided, the grey rain-curtain of this world rolled back, and all turned to silver glass. The Force awaited.

-End Story-​

 

[Darth Raze]

Raze felt the Force clash against his saber and he gritted his teeth beneath the helmet. For all his strength over the other man, he couldn’t push the saber through. His own exhaustion began to eat away at him, and he felt energy sapping away. He could tell they were both barely functioning, their injuries significant.

The Sith Lord heard the Jedi speak, but his words only incensed him further. He pushed even more with the saber, his arm trembling slightly as he attempted to thrust it deep into the man’s heart. Talak gazed into his visor and he would see only the fixed, steely stare back at him.

As Raze began to formulate a new tactic, he felt the obstacle abruptly shift. His saber sank into the Jedi’s chest, finding purchase as intended. A cruel grin began to spread across his face as he knew the Jedi was at his end.

However, that was when Talak blasted him clear back.

Raze shot through the air and crumbled into a wall many feet away, the impact causing a caved indent. He was slumped on the ground several feet into the wall, having created a small makeshift tunnel with his impact. His head was throbbing from the crushing blow to the back of it.

He wasn’t even aware of which bones were broken, and he knew nothing but excruciating pain. Raze couldn’t move a muscle, and his breathing was hoarse. He opened his eyes to assess his damage.

And he saw nothing.

Raze’s chest rose and fell rapidly, drawing weak and rattling breaths. He reached his weak, trembling hand to his helmet to lift it.

And still he saw nothing.

The world was pitch black.

The helmet was back on but the agony was beyond anything he could ever comprehend. He clawed at his surroundings, he looked all around him, he tried to see. He slammed at the debris at his sides, he struggled to get up, but nothing worked. He attempted to get on the comms frequency through his helmet, managing to only send erratic static from the damaged transmitter. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Sith Lord was truly and genuinely afraid.

Raze was blind.

 

[Darth Stolas]

A red thorn thrust forward toward the Jedi and the older man's response was not entirely within the Sith's expectations. The Force closed in he was prepared to attenuate as best he could, muscles tensing and will swirling around him, and then-

Maxims Tionson let go.

Stolas retracted his blade, replaced the hilt on his belt, and stared at the dying man from behind a black visor. The helmet tilted slightly in his direction and although the man might not know it, the gesture meant that he was listening and watching. In the face of death the Jedi had chosen mercy and kindness, embraced the peace his Order exemplified, refused to even try to take the young Lord's life. It was foolish.

But it was still worthy of respect in its own way. Morgan watched Max fade away as he spoke and thought briefly of their ideological differences, Sith and Jedi, what their goals might actually be. He allowed him to die with dignity and spoke again only after the other man fell silent.

"Perhaps it does," he said thoughtfully, although whether he agreed with the man wasn't entirely clear. "You will be carried home, Maxims Tionson."

With respect he bent slightly at the waist toward him, an old fashioned gesture that was held for a moment as Max's breathing stopped and his burned out heart struggled it's last. Morgan stood back up straight and stepped forward to retrieve the body and lightsabers.

Another spike of distant agony, this time stronger, of danger, of- His helmet whipped around in the opposite direction, and for a second he didn't move. Without warning he sprinted to the Magpie past any in his way, flying into the open rear door and pulling the bewildered pilot from his seat, Max's body left in the cargo area. Morgan sank in instead, barking an order and giving the gunner crews the needed couple seconds to detach the door guns and hop off, while Aadya managed to darted inside on the Darth's heels. Then it lifted off and turned back to the rear lines.

The Magpie's thrusters fired powerfully and it launched down the street away from the capital, the shock troopers moving forward with the front lines on the building's doorstep against the last DDF defenders.

"Raze, respond," Stolas called through his comm to what he knew was his line, nothing returning immediately. There was a brief burst of static from the line and the Sith felt a rush of panic burn down his limbs. "Emryc!" He tried again with similar results. At least when he returned to where the invading transports had landed it wasn't difficult to find where the reported hole in the ground was.

The Magpie slowed to a stop above it and Dante took over piloting and repeated comms message to Emryc, a series of three clicks repeated at even intervals. Stolas looked down the pit, right hand flexing uncomfortably. He whistled sharply to his droid and leapt from the ship into the pit, the Force swirling around him to slow his fall. Even so he landed heavily two levels down amidst the dust and dark, helmet turning left and right. The air smelled heavily of blood, and some was a scent he was very familiar with.

There was a corpse here slumped against a wall, a lightsaber wound still smoking in its chest, battered and broken. It wasn't who Morgan was looking for. "Emryc!" Morgan called again over the private comm without the vocal distortion, looking around. Panic found its way into his voice and his bled into the Force as shaking fury, senses and sight sweeping hastily.

There. Half buried in a section of shattered wall was the man he loved. The prince ran to the indentation immediately, boots skidding across dust and debris as Morgan's presence brushed against Emryc's. He couldn't see most of him and the debris was edging on collapse between movement and damage to the structure. Morgan's will stretched outward through the Force to steady it and begin the process of getting him out, fingers curling and powers steady even as his voice shook in an effort to maintain calm.

"I'm here, soldier boy."

Then there was only the strained humming of an old lullaby as Morgan put all his concentration and focus on extracting Emryc safely from the rubble.

@Sreeya @GABA @Nefieslab @Logan

 

[Darth Tiamat]

Tiamat kept curling her fingers on her right arm, squeezing them tightly into her palm before relaxing them as she worked to ease the pin and needle sensation in her arm. Her senses kept vigilant for any lingering opposing troops, they seemed to be scattered at this point, but desperation had the tendency to bring more feral decisions out of beings. With a slowed pace, she eventually came to a stop, the pain never really subsiding, her amber eyes burned into her surroundings as she listened to crumbling infrastructure of the city, feeling for the growing sense of fear.

At first Tiamat believed it to be the DDF and the Jedi, but the more she reached, there was something more urgent. Turning on her heel, she wrapped her senses around her will, demanding for it to reveal its source and quickly the redheaded woman found herself retracing her steps through the streets, passing the soldiers she had left to die, and nearly believing it was the Jedi who had returned, but the sensation, the feeling, was not right.

No, it was someone else who she cherished greatly, Emryc...

Tiamat felt herself present, blinking as she came to the ledge of a sinkhole; the supports that once held up several layers had collapsed in itself and it was hard to believe that anyone who had fallen through was even still alive. Then again, Emryc...or at least Raze was not just anyone and he was down there somewhere. She could feel his pain course through her body, new areas growing more sensitive than before.

The descent felt heavy as it was dark, but Tiamat did not give into her own insecurities, she could handle whatever rested at the bottom. There had been darker paths, this would not be the last of them either. She could feel Emryc was alive, but there was something driving him into panic as he succumbed to his fear. However, it was hard to believe it was stemming from him, she had never felt this before, her own playing the what if games as she found her footing with each step, moving quickly with the aid of the Force, pausing to look up to see the lights from Morgan's ship, the Magpie, and a figure leaping down into the pit.

Tiamat moved a bit faster now, the Force aiding in her motions to ease the longer falls to something more manageable without breaking her legs. She would pause when she felt she had reached near the bottom, hearing Morgan call out for Emryc and she jumped down to the surface. Her attention was drawn to the corpse, catching her eye before she turned to see Morgan beginning to dig out Emryc, trying to keep things stable until enough of it was moved. Tiamat ran quickly to help, pushing aside the shock of his state from her mind, "Get him out of here...quickly!" The Force washed through her as she held out her palms, feeling the fragile wall ready to give way as she pressed back, stabilizing it and to give Morgan enough time and focus to get Emryc out and away from the structure.

@Sreeya @Mr. Teatime

 

[Morndell Avon]

At the Skydock, Ramone was waiting for the departed transport to make it's final contact in assuring that the politicians were secured. The senatorial aide's hands were full with keeping a semblance of order in the Skydock, but his thoughts still flew to his absent superior. There was only so much his prayers for the senator's safety could do and he knew he had to focus on the present. He was needed here, and here was were he would stay to do his duties and fulfill his superior's command.

The first ship might have already taken off, but Ramone knew that that did not mean that the passengers were already saved. He hailed the DDF troop that had been sending long-range broadcasts to the Jedi channel.

"The transports need escorts offworld. Can the aerial force spare us defenders to escort the ships?" he asked the trooper.

"Asking for immediate assistance, sir."

With a nod, Ramone waited for the first transport's message but nothing still came. His gaze turned skywards, and even if he couldn't see the ship any longer a sinking feeling manifested in his gut. Perhaps it was the paranoia of a former military man telling him that something was terribly wrong. He knew not to simply shake that feeling off, and when his comm pinged he felt his heart drop.

"Ramone, do not wait for me. Board the River Dweller and leave after you have done your duty."

"Senator?"

A weak cough on the other end of the line. Then...

"Pascal. Thank you. You and Edmund have made me proud. Adelante, compatriotas. My sons."

The line was cut off. Ramone wasn't even given enough time to let the senator's final words to sink in as four DDF starfighter ships flew overhead to tail the departed transport ship. Three more T-85 Starfighters successfully broke through the enemy recon and quickly engaged with the four Arrowheads before the latter reached the Skydock.

Time was not on their side any longer. Ramone shoved down his grief at losing the man he was proud to call his father and made contact with the pilot of the transport ship. The pilot was quick to relay that they were surrendering under threat of death – the politicians' safety was a priority the pilot wouldn't dare risk.

"Moving for touchdown," the pilot regretfully said through gritted teeth, but the arrival of the four Starfighters that would then quickly engage the Arrowheads had given the man enough time to activate the transport's light shielding – while it wasn't enough to hold out the ion cannons forever it would still give the DDF Starfighters the window to assault and harass the opposing Arrowheads.

—

His spirit was determined but his body could only take so much damage and blood loss – it was weak, and in his age it was a wonder he had made it this far.

Met with Rishe's equal determination, Morndell's smile never left his face. His breathing might have become even more labored now but it was by some miracle that he still managed to walk forward, to follow his own advice until his strength would finally leave him. The small Sith thay had attacked him and the DDF troopers earlier did not hold back, and true to the force behind her power the assault did leave serious damage.

His spirit was determined but his body was growing weaker.

Even as a new threat arose, a voice calling out for him and the intrepid Padawan in front of him, Morndell felt strangely at peace. His thoughts went to Edmund who was safe back in their homeworld. The younger aide who never failed to stand up to anyone who spoke badly about the senator. The self-appointed bodyguard who still retained the wide-eyed wonder of his youth, who would gladly give up his life if it meant saving the people he loved. Morndell was thankful that the young aide wasn't here with him – Edmund would hate being unable to help his superior, would possibly hate himself for the safety and peace afforded to him by staying behind in Chalacta rather than fighting tooth and nail to protect Morndell.

Next came Ramone. The voice of reason. The aide who turned away from warfare to relearn what he had been intially taught so he could be the guide Morndell would rely onto during his political run. Ramone, the level-headed aide who was not afraid to frown disapprovingly at his superior and fellow senatorial aide's brashness and short tempers. The senior aide who would comply to his superior's last wish even if it was something he could possibly regret for the rest of his life.

But Morndell allowed himself to be selfish, even just this once. As long as his aides – his sons – were safe, then it would be enough for him. They would live with regrets and it pained him to no end, to burden the young men with something so heavy, but they would live.

They would live, and that was enough for him.

Under any circumstances he would have rejected Rishe's offer and defy her authority with his own. But he couldn't do that to her. The Padawan was risking her safety for his own, and Morndell could not repay that with insubordination. He took the proferred stim with his uninjured hand, his gaze already wavering as he gave her a nod. And besides, he thought with a suppressed chuckle (gods, it hurt to even laugh), he wasn't the one armed with a launcher.

"I'll be waiting, Rishe," he reminded her before walking forward as fast as he could. His strength was waning, his clothing drenched in his own blood. Gritting his teeth he pushed ahead, ignoring how the ground beneath his booted feet seemed to sway.

He couldn't hold his injured arm close nor could he feel the pain as it fell limply to his side. Blood dripped steadily, leaving a trail as he put one foot ahead of the other, creating more distance between him and the Padawan. A whistling sound sped past him after an explosion rocked the tunnel, but they were muffled in his ears.

Morndell walked forward, until he couldn't any longer. He didn't even make it far, and as he collapsed on the ground his uninjured hand searched for his commlink to make a final call.

He had lost so much blood... and his time was running out. Who would have thought that he could be afforded a non-violent death?

Morndell gave Ramone his final order, but it was only one part of his intentions in making the call. Edmund was worlds away, and even if he couldn't physically hear the younger aide's voice for the last time, the senator could still hear the young man's laughter and teasing remarks.

"Senator?"

The corners of Morndell's lips tugged upwards in a soft smile.

"Pascal. Thank you. You and Edmund have made me proud. Adelante, compatriotas. My sons."

And just like that, his time was up. He terminated the call, not wanting to have his son hear his final moments as he lay there, the light in his dark eyes slowly fading. Morndell knew what he was facing when he traveled to Denon; he knew what was at stake. He was prepared to give up his life fighting to defend the innocent, and while he was met with failures today he still held on to hope. Death was inevitable, it was something that always lurked within the shadows or walked in broad daylight. But at least he could greet it like an old friend knowing that he still managed to save lives today. That was what's important.

He'd saved people regardless of their numbers, and it was enough for him.

A dying flame was all Morndell was right now. A senator, he might have been, but in the grand scheme of things he was just a nobody. A man who fought to keep the darkness at bay. A man who had suffered losses and gained friends. A nobody who tried to make a difference.

In the face of the ever growing darkness, perhaps that was more than enough. That people tried and got up again despite their failures, their shortcomings, and determined that they would take another chance to right what was wrong, to make good what was broken.

It was more than enough.

His spirit was determined, and his body gave up. What did the Jedi always say again about it?

Death, yet the Force.

With his time already spent, Morndell Avon closed his eyes – content, at peace – and breathed his last.

@Stick @The Steel Stag @Xian @Mr. Teatime

 

[Felix]

Felix felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned his head to see a local soldier he was speaking to him but he still ears were still deafened by the ringing of his ears.

“I... can’t hear... but I think... can walk... just help him” his head turned to Drastus, staring at his wounded body. A soldier led him away into the armoured speeder as a medic began to stabilise Drastus, prepping him to be moved onto a stretcher and into the speeder.

A Nautolan raised com to his mouth “we’ve found the pups they’re breathing just barely, we’ll be returning ASAP.” As he finished, Drastus was loaded into the speeder and his men were piling into. The medic checking over Felix wounds as they began to move. Felix sat there quietly in his deafening silence as he staring into nothing.

@Rhogar @The Steel Stag

 

[Darth Malicia]

Unstopped, a third building in the north tumbled down after Malicia ripped part of it's structure off. She was attempting to down buildings in each cardinal direction, switching between them at random. Whining and groaning echoed throughout the city as the large structure collapsed to the ground, caving in multiple tunnels around it, including close to the north end of the one the Jedi, senator and marauder were in (@Stick @The Steel Stag @Xian).

Malicia's comm rang to life, stopping her with the news of a transport attempting to leave. Once the location was sent to her, the council member made her way down the stairwell, quickly. The capital building was almost entirely empty now outside of Sith forces. No one had managed to stand in their way, at least, not successfully. There were bodies of soldiers on both sides mixed and mangled on the ground, but it was clear who the winner was in the capital building.

There was a sudden pang of terrible emotion and she knew it was coming from Raze. She felt a twist in her stomach, the need to find him, but she knew he would have help with so many nearby him and that she would be useless to him. He did not need her. She pushed through that emotion because the best she could do right now was help capture this planet for the lord.

Finding a door on the north of the building, Malicia's small frame shot out of it towards the location of the ship. This time she was using the Force to increase her speed and it wasn't long until the shuttle came into view, albeit far in the distance. She could see Sith Forces preventing the shuttle from leaving. If these were the planetary leaders, she found it interesting they were willing to sacrifice swaths of innocent people.

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Death.

Rishe had never felt it so strongly before. Her heart and mind had been closed off in the early moments of the battle. But she could not shut this out. She could not shut out what she felt behind her, above her, and far away. A pattern drummed by the weight of loss, with the final note taking place only metres away. She thought that if she could just get the Senator to a ship, get him to safety, it would prove something. That her mistakes in the battle were absolved. That better Jedi had not lain down their lives in vain. It was supposed to be the last thing she could do right. That faux sense of confidence and authority snapped for the mask that it was.

I've failed. Again. Over, and over... She could feel it, she didn't have to look to know what was lying behind her. Another failure, an additional condemnation on a battle that seemed nothing if not a trial on inadequacy. She couldn't rescue one single man, and now, the weight and suffering of the battle surrounded the Padawan. Why did the Force make her feel these things so acutely, but not give her the strength to stop any of it?

She spared one glance over her shoulder for the crumpled man, his light attire making him a beacon in the dark tunnel. He said he would wait. But she hadn't been strong enough. Looking at that form, the man she'd known not even for an hour, it brought back those temptations. If she just used that loss, that rage, it would solve her problems. If she had been using it, he never would have perished. But if she did, it would be a suicide of a different form. She felt she had nothing as a Jedi, nothing but that one line she couldn't cross.

Shrapnel pinged down the stone hall, and the padawan was much too caught up in the sensations from the Force, the suddenness of all of this foreign death she felt. The wind was taken out of her as she felt an impact against her chest, joined by a physical, piercing pain matching what the Force tormented her with. She gasped, her hand thrusting forward to try and beat back the flames and further cloud. Her push wouldn't be enough, she could feel the fire licking against her exposed skin, other bits of shrapnel slowed to the point where they tugged against her clothes. It was never enough.

There was little reprieve as lightning arced through the tunnel. Even after a barrier, and Vahn's volley of darts, this Sith could still launch lightning at them. It frustrated her, such use of the Force would have left her drained. It was their ideology, alien and familiar both summed in a single attack through the Force. Wasteful and chaotic. But yet it still seemed to win. And she hated that.

"Enough!"

Ragged, bloodied, and scorched, her right hand met the lightning. Her skin felt like it was bubbling, flashes of corrupted Force energies ruptured through her arm, threatening to overtake her. The crackling, roaring void of the lightning was met by her own hoarse scream. Yet through the pain, she was able to restrain it, using her same suffocating control over the Force and her emotion to stifle the darker energies. It tortured just as it whispered temptation before she was able to bind it in place, the arcs of light retreating from scarred, reddened skin up towards a twitching, numbed hand. She locked her gaze onto their enemy, breathing shakily. It was right there, it needed to go somewhere. Either back out or dissipating into the Force. She could use it on the Sith.

At the thought, it erupted. That brief flash of intent enough to prematurely release what little she would have been able to deflect. Unlike the wide torrent he had sent towards them, three strong arcs emerged, striking the floor, the wall, and the ceiling with explosive force, all while missing her true target. And as the southern most portion of the tunnel started to collapse around them, she was left only with what she started. Failures, pain, and death. But now, it was joined by an arm that only hung limp and ruined at her side.

@Xian @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Vahn’s long, loping stride skid to a stop as he crossed a body. He recognized this man. From reports and holonews, sure, but he was stunned for a featherlight moment. He lowered to one knee, and rested his hand against Morndell’s still but faintly warm breast. Vahn could tell he had already passed on.

“One day we’ll meet, but not today. I still have a job to do,” Vahn paused, his eyes focused on one of the dead Senator’s blasters. Something, somewhere was tugging on his consciousness compelling him. He took up the weapon, drawn to the weapon by some unseen current. Was there history here? Was the Force guiding him? Nonetheless, he pocketed the blaster in a side-holster.

Then came a familiar voice suddenly overwhelmed by the thundering of stone as it started to crack in half under its own weight. He snapped to attention, his eyes resting on the young padawan showered by curtains of pulverized ferrocrete dust staggering away from the beginnings of a tunnel collapse.

Reflex took over; he raised a hand, focusing his mind onto the young padawan. Not her. Not today. He wasn’t losing anyone else. Vahn reached out with his mind, his entire world in those few crucial moments gathered upon the young woman. She felt first a tug, and then a powerful surging pull that ripped her from her feet and through the intervening space to drop her unceremoniously before him as the tunnel collapsed behind her.

“Rishe. Let’s go. We have to go. No time. We’re leaving!” Vahn shouted over the residual cracking of the stonework, and mournful howling of the durasteel reinforcements around them. He took her by the hand, his gloved grasp firm as he pulled her to her feet.

“Focus on the Force, deeply! I know you can do this!”

He half pulled her along with him in the moments before he focused his mind, drawing deep of The Force. He felt stronger, energy coursing into his muscles. His mind crystallized, bolstered by waves of strength flowing from the world around him into every muscle fibre, waxing powerfully with every breath.

“Run!”

The speed at which he tore down the tunnel was preternatural. Each movement was precise, fueled by The Force as he kept his mind on the task at hand. Work the problem. One step at a time. He didn’t slow, only occasionally checking to see if Rishe was close behind until he came back to the end of the tunnel where he skid to a stop. His posture was subtly stooped by this point, his breathing heavier than normal. Vahn ascended the ladder, leaping up through the passage for the last stretch to land on the streets above.

He was met with the glaring flood lights of a star fighter, causing him to shield his eyes from the moment of blindness caused, while instinctively going for his lightsaber. A moment passed, and he breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes adjusted from darkness to light. Hovering in the space between towers before him was a friendly sight; his trusty, reliable old X-wing blazened in grey and blue. The half dozen or so armored speeders had returned, clustered behind the starfighter as Perrix and his men were already at work hurrying the politicians into the vehicles.

“You’re a life saver, Ralta,” Vahn said, lowering his hand. He walked forward, and brushed his hand along the nose of the old fighter. Ralta cooed in droidspeak, regaling him of her decisions. Apparently she had used their private line to ping his location specifically as the battle turned for the worst, and then flew low, and fast through the lower levels of the city to obscure her approach. Clever droid.

“You ready to give some hell to these bastards?” Vahn asked. She twittered at him in response as he mounted the cockpit of the starfighter and set about strapping himself in. Rote memory took over as he switched the systems back on, fumbling for a moment as he slid his lightsaber into the Vector-class weapons lock. It lit up a rich, deep blue; the same color as the lightsaber’s blade.

He keyed into the DDF comms.

“This is Jedi Knight Vahn Berand. I’m taking to the skies. What is our situation?”

“Knight Berand? We’ve been hearing about you through the comms. Situation is dire. Everything is collapsing. We hardly have anyone left in the air.”

“Well hopefully I can contain that. Listen, we need to aid evacuation efforts.”

“We’re already on that; calls were sent through Senator Morndell’s channels to redirect efforts planetwide,” Vahn’s heart sank at the mention of that name.

“What’s your call sign?”

Vahn paused, hand trembling over the comms switch. His thoughts transported far into his past for the briefest flash of a moment. A simpler time; three members of a family wandering the stars together. Three Jedi laughing over a teenage boy’s juvenile idea for a call sign. His gloved hand pressed the button down like a weight.

“Vigil 3.”

“Acknowledged, Vigil 3.”

“I’m going to ping a location, if there are any remaining fighters have them rendezvous with me here,” he forwarded a location north of his current position; it wasn’t too far for an X-wing but it was certainly far enough to try and obscure the exit from the tunnel and the remaining politicians location as they hurried into the armored speeders.

Vahn looked out into the sky. The smoke-blackened sky was full of the thrust of escaping craft. Some of them had to be able to escape. He couldn’t help them all, but he could do something.

Some distance away, panic sprang up as news of approaching Sith fighters approached the Bastra Skydock. A half dozen ships took off at once to avoid the incoming conflageration, and as a handful of remaining DDF fighters intercepted the Arrowheads two smaller craft, little more than civilian freighters took the chance to pull away and descend low, first between the towering buildings, and then descend low into the depths of the city, the eternal smog and darkness providing some cover as they pivotted towards the secondary rendezvous point east of the tunnel’s exit.

@Stick @Xian

 

[ElavAlroon]

Elav’Alaroon jumped back as, to his surprise, the young woman returned some of his lightning back in his direction. His right hand went for his saber but stopped as the lightning hit everything except him, it seemed despite all her rage she didn’t have it in her to actually try to kill someone. As the Sith straightened back up he felt a rage spark in him again when a familiar voice bellowed over the now falling tunnel. The Jedi from earlier. He would give anything to punish the one that outsmarted him. Twice. But he wouldn’t stand a chance against him in his current state, that and the tunnel was now collapsing.

The Twi’lek took several large hops backwards, keeping his eyes in the Jedi’s direction in case they tried a last moment attack through the dust and rubble, but nothing came. Though he did notice they left the Senators body to be buried. It seemed his thought of these tunnels becoming a tomb was correct, just not his tomb. When he was sure no attack was coming his way he quickly turned and sped back to the entrance he used under the Capitol building.

Elav’Alaroon climbed the ladder out, and then the stairs to the main lobby of the building to the familiar sight of the lifeless bodies the monster had left behind. Not much had changed, the dust had settled, blaster fire could still be heard in the distance and the building was seemingly empty. Even the ravenous hunger seemed to have left to find more food. Glancing across the bodies, still angered by being outdone by the Jedi again, an idea came to him and a smile crossed his face.

The Sith knelt down to one of the bodies and removed it’s comm device, he reached around his neck and pulled up his tags to get his name. Holding the comm to his ear he began to broadcast, “This is... Private Stevens… The Jedi have… betrayed us… they collapsed… escape tunnels… Senator-” He cut the comm for a second as if the signal died to hide that he didn’t even know the dead Senator’s name, “-slowing them down… dropped the tunnel on us… he is dead… I’m not far behind.” He feigned some coughs down the link and some raspy breaths, to sell the whole mortally wounded bit, “To all defense forces… do not trust the Jedi… they are not… here to help us… I repeat… The Jedi… are not... to be trust-” He crushed the commlink in his hand cutting the broadcast.

Tossing the scrap aside he straightened back up and rolled his shoulder as the dull pain had begun to return. He tapped his own Comm to the sith forces, “The Jedi have collapsed the tunnels behind them, they are escaping north. Any troops available head them off.” He tapped the Comm again and began to head South, back to the drop point. He had expended far too much stamina and he needed to get his injuries seen to to avoid infection. The stim he had taken was beginning to run dry, both pain and fatigue began to claw at him. He was done for this fight.

@Stick @The Steel Stag

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe was yanked back again, tumbling over the rough floor of the tunnel, away from the damage she'd done, and the damage she'd failed to do. It wasn't for a lack of trying, at the very least.

As she was hauled to her feet, reality came back to the Jedi even if she was getting quite tired of being thrown around. She was tired in general, pained, frustrated, enraged. But she still had plenty of the Force left. Having fewer reserves than most taught you to ration carefully.

“Focus on the Force, deeply! I know you can do this!” He had urged. Focusing on the Force was half the source of her pain, though. But at least his voice was something to focus on. Strength and fire coursed through her limbs, that jagged, agonizing pain grating against a rib seeming to dull. And luckily, her arm was already numb near to the elbow. That would take a long time to heal. Clutching her deactivated saber across her chest, sheltering the wound as humans instinctively did, she belted off after Vahn, her labored breathing and a crimson stain starting to coat the ruined tunic both being hardly noticeable through the chaos.

Rishe emerged from the ladder a few moments after the Jedi Knight, the Padawan actually having to climb the thing, and with one arm. By the time she had gotten to the top, Vahn had already leapt into an X-wing, and it was steadily taking off. The speeders were loaded with politicians and other VIPs to be taken to the two transports on the way. Among them she thought she saw two wounded Jedi. Is that Drastus?

She was loaded onto them with everyone else, and all of a sudden, she was finally able to just sit, her numb mind processing the events as the ruined city landscape swept by them in clouds of ash and rubble. She even tried to shake away one of the ambulatory medics as they went to tend to her, but a padawan with little medical knowledge and physical energy left couldn't fend off an experienced first responder who's definitely dealt with worse stubbornness. She could see distant freighters landing down just a minute before they arrived.

A familiar voice emerged onto the DDF line. Injured, raspy, but familiar. That rage welled up in her again. That sense of shame. Her arm throbbed, and her failures were making more sense. She hadn't truly committed. If she'd killed the Sith, this wouldn't be a problem right now.

"It's a lie." Rishe said, her own voice disturbingly ragged. "They deal in lies and death and... not much else." But they still seem to come out on top. For all the talk of pacifism and allowing the truth to make itself known, it didn't feel like these values saved the Jedi today, and it definitely didn't save Denon.

"I'm sure, Jedi. Stop squirming." The medic said gently, applying some sort of sprayed splint. He didn't listen, engrossed in his work as he was. Or he didn't believe her. It wasn't a pleasant reaction in any case. A war wasn't going to be halted based on one line of propaganda into a disorganized channel, and it definitely wasn't going to be affected from one Padawan's weak rebellion against her healer. The fighters still fought, the soldiers still died, and the speeders turned another corner as they approached the landing freighters to load up and escape.

That was a surprisingly uneventful part. She'd expected some threat to lunge out of the alleyways, for a fighter to strafe them as soon as they took off, but as the ship's acceleration tugged at her, there was nothing, nothing but the shake of the ship, the dim lighting illuminating terrified faces, and the sensations of the battle, no longer dulled by her pain after a stimulant cocktail. Force be with you, Master Berand. She thought. It had to be with someone today.

@Rhogar @christhebetrayer @The Steel Stag

 

[Darth Raze]

Raze was fading in and out of consciousness as he heard his name being called several times through the comlink on his helmet. He was still thrown into complete darkness, relying only on his sensitive ears to pick up on his surroundings. The makeshift tunnel he made threatened to collapse on him.

The walls protested and began to cave in by the time Morgan arrived to extract him. Raze felt arms grasp at him, and he felt himself gently pulled out. He felt nothing but agony, the bone once again protruding from his arm where the break happened. He couldn’t support himself on one of his legs, and several of his ribs were broken. Raze’s breathing was labored.

“My...eyes…” He half spoke, half wheezed as he struggled to stand, “My eyes...gone...can’t...see..” He choked out the words. He could hear a familiar voice in the distance, recognizing Tiamat at once. Raze faded in and out of reality again, doubting that she was truly there.

“I’m blind...I’m blind..,” He pushed lightly against Morgan’s hold, attempting to walk in another direction, “Talak… needs… to be…..returned to Jedi...with his saber from level...above. Return him...return him...to...to his..his….kin..with his saber...with his saber..with...his...saber..” Raze lost his footing and completely collapsed then, falling unconscious.

@GABA @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

All four Sith fighters fired full bursts of ion bolts as their long range sensors pinged hostile contacts moving to intercept, the cost of the delayed escort in the face of enemy aerial superiority. Storm Squadron considered that a failure to surrender and began the flanking attack before the escort could get close enough to reliably stop them or the shields had been raised.

High above across the city two groups from Storm Squadron were engaged by DDF fighters. While in a dogfight these brave militia fighters were a poor match for Sith pilots they were able to draw attention from the escape shuttle and delay the other four, meaning that if or when the transport was forced land by ionized system failure it would take other forces catch those aboard.

This also meant the other escape craft and scattering civilian ships were left alone and able to escape without pursuit by Storm Squadron.

-------
​

Stolas barely seemed to hear Tiamat, hadn't consciously recognized her presence. He heard humming and a collection of hammering heartbeats, the scraping of stone and boots as he worked to get Emryc out from the debris. Golden eyes saw red, red on the stone and splashed liberally across cut and broken limbs, red on edges of vision. Tt took a concerted bit of effort to concentrate on his work. Morgan did hear the red-haired woman, however, and managed to pull the badly wounded soldier boy out and allowed the held pieces of wall to clatter and crack to the ground.

Emryc was cradled gently, the arm that barely held on carefully kept up to prevent further damage. He tried feebly to push away but Morgan wouldn't let him go. Everything about him sounded wrong, wheezing breaths and dripping blood and creaking bone. The man spoke weakly and the Firrerreo listened intently while he guided him more to the center of the pit so they could be retrieved.

Blind? The helmet turned sharply to look at Emryc and just then his body went limp. Morgan had to adjust his grip to keep him up but he would not let the larger man fall to his knees. Again his visor found the body of Talak Rand and he tensed, furious, hateful, and- it didn't matter. It was just another dead man now.

He let out a sharp whistling. Probe droids and drop lines fell from the Magpie to follow Morgan's harshly given orders. One of the machines was able to find fallen weapons easily enough.

"Tiamat. The corpse." Stolas nodded toward Talak, his voice obviously strained even through the modulator. A gurney dropped down into the pit and Emryc was carefully placed down in it, particularly around the shattered arm, and he was strapped in place. It would lift up and away with Morgan holding on from an adjacent line, another available for Tiamat to tie the corpse to and raise out herself.

Behind his helmet his eyes stung and burned, though none could hear it as he'd cut the comm line. Eyes were fixed on Raze as hot tears fell, tears of deep sorrow and unyielding hate. Morgan knew it was not Emryc's way to seek revenge for such a thing, respect given to his enemy after the job was done.

Stolas did not share in that sentiment. Revenge was the way of his kind, of his family. Morgan would stay with Emryc to make sure he was evacuated safely and treated properly, to make sure he woke up again, to make sure he knew Morgan loved him. But after?

No more games. The Drast would march to war.

@Sreeya @GABA @Logan @Forsythe Crowholde @Stick @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Theme​

The maneuver could have, should have killed a normal man. However, the Force pulsed in Vahn’s veins as he banked into a hard G turn. His X-wing barreled wing over wing quad cannons spitting vengeance across a patrol of Sith starfighters bearing down on the makeshift evacuation point east of the capitol tunnel’s exit. Two of the invading craft erupted in plumes of heat and light, briefly illuminating the suspended skyways of Denon’s mid level before darkness settled, thrusters smoldering in the perpetual gloom.

The third broke off, twisting into a downward slope before angling sharply towards the sky with Vahn burning hot in pursuit. A pair of old model DDF starfighters lagged behind, having joined him in defense of the evacuation point.

“Ralta, keep him jammed. I just need… another second.” Vahn hissed through gritted teeth. He pulled hard on his control stick, and killed his thrust. The X-wing reared bark, the belly of the star fighter suddenly a long air break that reduced speed and drove the nose of the craft upwards. Vahn grunted with the sudden change in motion, which pulled his aiming reticle square over the fleeing fighter. Vahn squeezed the firing switch on his control stick and watched as crimson lances skewered through the fighter and sent it into a flaming tailspin to crash into the side of a passing skyway.

“Vigil 3; patrol silenced,” Vahn reported.

Vahn kept his small flight in motion above the landing zone, curling a slow, tight holding pattern overhead, ready to engage any pursuing fighters.

“Star Control, Vigil 3 reporting. I need an escape corridor. Please tell me there’s somewhere, anywhere we can go. We have VIPs.” Vahn spoke into the comms headset tucked over one ear.

“Admiral Terriz is still in orbit with what’s left of the defense fleet. They’re trying to hold a section in orbit open for evacuation.” A young, scared feminine voice reported.

“Last stand?” Vahn asked grimly.

“Affirmative. Move to...” there was a moment’s pause. “L-17 eastbound. They’ll hold the passage as long as they can.” Vahn breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Star Control. We’ll be voidborne promptly.”

“Sith troops have penetrated the grounds. We won’t be able to support you after this. We’re holding them off as long as we can to destroy our communications and travel records. No sense making tracking people any easier,” the signal grew weak for a moment as something detonated in the far background.

“...What’s your name?” Vahn asked.

“Emila. Emil Bygko.”

“Stay alive Emila. Always choose life when the alternative is death.”

“Acknowledged. Control is signing off. Oh, and Jedi?” the voice was shaky, but in those last syllables tinged with amusement.

“May The Force be with you.”

“As with you.”

Vahn closed the channel and moments later saw the frequency go dead. They were well underway of purging their comm logs and records. He offered a silent thought for them, before focusing back onto the task at hand. There was a job to be done; no time to ruminate on failures. The freighters were loaded up, each packed full of politicians, officials and even a spread of common soldiers.

“Lead freighter, you’re now Cargo 1. Second freighter, you’re now Cargo 2.”

“We’re going to use a capsule formation,” Vahn forwarded several specs to the two freighters as they started to pick up speed.

“Cargo 1; you take the lead. When you hit sky clearance strengthen your forward shields double front. Cargo 2, settle in behind Cargo 1’s wake just far enough behind that you’re not getting roasted by their thrust exhaust and strengthen your rear deflectors double aft. We’ll fly screwjack and stop anyone from angling on your weak points.”

The twin fighters tucked into position along the flanks, slowly making 90 degree rotations around the axis of the two freighters as they started to pick up speed into the upper levels of Denon’s cityscape. The two escorts slowly flagged however as they approached sky clearance.

“Escort fighters, your speed has reduced. Is there a problem?”

“No Master Jedi, we’re just….we’re hearing some weird things on the comms. People going back and forth; some say Jedi aren’t here to help, others saying that’s all what you’ve been doing.”

Vahn paused, and then cut into a private channel with the two escorts.

“Do you two have hyperdrives?”

“Yes, sir. Denon defense flies patrols into neighboring systems as needed.”

“There’s only one way offworld right now and we’re on it. I doubt the Sith will be soft on captive pilots; if you survive the next hour. Do you want to live?”

There was silence on the other line.

“Yes, Sir,” one pilot choked and cut off halfway through a strangled sob.

“Then this secret dies with us. As far as anyone else knows you were operating under my orders. Tell people that I threatened to shoot you down if you need to,” Vahn said. There was a tense moment of quiet in the air before the two fighters accelerated back into formation around the two freighters.

As they accelerated into the top levels of Denon it became possible to see more than a score of meters ahead of him; the distance between towers creating a view over the tops of the burning city that unsettled him. Vahn could see a scattering of ships burning hot in different directions; fleeing in panic away from the combat zone and the invading force however they can.

“Ralta. Angle a tight-band beam back to those civilian vessels behind us. They’re trying to escape anyway so we might as well give them a shot; give them a vector behind us but remind them the window is closing. They’re flying into a hornet’s nest.”

First one, then two, before a small cluster of ships of various classes deviated from their path to form a narrow train behind Vahn’s formation. Thrusters flared, and they collectively gathered speed in the moments of ascent as they broke into the sky above the city-world’s gleaming towers.

Cloud cover parted and soon the convoy entered a scene from beyond one of the six gates of hell. The black star-painted sky was alight with fire and wreckage from horizon to horizon. Doomed ships listed into the gravity well below while a handful, including what Vahn presumed to be Terriz’ flagship held a small patch of space clear for egress.

“Burn hard, and burn fast! Hit lightspeed as soon as you have calculations and clearance!”

Behind him, Vahn could feel the sudden fear and then silence of hundreds of lives as the flagship cracked in two, and then was atomized as it became, briefly, a second sun in the sky as its reactors overloaded. Moments later Vahn’s X-wing, and the dozen or so craft he was able to guide out of the combat zone entered lightspeed.

“Ralta… thank you. Take over controls I think I’m just….going to sleep now…” Vahn sighed, and collapsed in his seat, exhaustion finally claiming him as the little BG unit in his fighter coo’d a soft, calming tone in his ear.

//Exit Thread

 

[Rishe Vakren]

As the freighters climbed into space, the torrent of the battle grew weak and dim in her mind's eye. Everyone in the ship was still tense, and she kept a careful watch over the emotions of the pilots. Only when they would relax could everyone be sure they were safe.

Then, the air warped. There was a ringing in her ear, and the freighters lurched into lightspeed. The pilots' relief was mirrored by the passengers. But not Rishe.

Denon was conquered. Their escape here did cost lives, lives she could tell were being snuffed out even nearby in space. A large ship must have succumbed.

If they won, the sacrifices would have meant something. But they didn't, so the Jedi needed to change how they handled these wars. She didn't rest, she didn't relax. She slipped herself into meditation, trying to hold onto the state despite the pain that was slowly re-emerging. She needed to be more prepared next time. They all would.

//Exit Thread

 

[Aadya Rasheer]

Aadya had followed Stolas without question, figuratively nipping at his heels as they made their way to the Magpie. There was little that needed to be said and even less as the events of the coming minutes unfolded before her.

She had never seen the Darth in such a state as he was when they arrived at the battered and broken body of Darth Raze. The emotion that poured forth from both of the other Sith around - Tiamat and Stolas - caught her off guard. Aadya was used to the typical outbursts from her fellow Sith: rage, malice, indignation. What she felt here, though, was something entirely different. It was pain.. sorrow to a degree she herself had never come close to feeling before. It iced her blood and the young acolyte remained silent and merely watched.

Aadya did not know know the man who now lay slumped and unconscious. What she did know, though, was that something like this could not go unpunished. The Sith may have won the day here on Denon but Aadya knew that would provide no solace to the few gathered here. It was clear that their radiating, righteous fury and hatred for Jedi would only grow. Not from the elation of victory, no - but from the unquenchable thirst for revenge.

In Aadya's mind there was only one answer here. She would follow the scuttling Jedi wherever they tried to run to, wherever they tried to hide and the only thing left for their friends to find when she was done would be their eyeless corpses, helplessly piled and laying in pools of their own blood.

 

[Darth Tiamat]

Tiamat could feel the walls giving way, pieces of brick and stone fell from the weakest points, but Morgan worked quickly to get Raze up and away before it would give completely. Though she was relieved when Raze was moved, what Morgan pulled from the rubble was not the Sith warrior that she knew. Her amber eyes widened in shock as she looked upon him, his body was completely broken, blood and bone protrusions that suddenly Tiamat realized the pain she had been feeling was shared in his own agony. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but nothing moved and the air burned from the dust she suddenly inhaled.

She heard Raze say something about being blind and then Talak, the Jedi who she saw when she first entered and her attention turned to the corpse. He wanted him to go back with his kin and as odd as it sounded, for him to be so focused on returning the Jedi's body, Tiamat would respect it even if she did not understand. As Morgan helped Emryc, she nodded as he directed her to the Jedi's body. She walked over and knelt in front of him, studying the Jedi warrior who left Emryc barely alive himself. Fingers gently brushed his dark hair away from his face, looking upon him for a moment until she heard a whining sound of the gurney and lifting the Jedi with the Force, she draped the body across the board along with his saber.

She signaled she was ready to be pulled upward, her eyes falling on the Jedi and then to the saber wound that was burned into his chest. Her own thoughts were rather silent in this moment, there wasn't anything she could focus on as it seemed no matter she found, nothing stuck for her process. Her gaze glanced upward to see the gurney with Emryc be lifted into the ship before herself, almost feeling a surreal wash over her as to what would happen to him next.

Nothing seemed to matter much until she knew for sure that Emryc would be ok again.

 

[Darth Malicia]

With the transport grounded and Sith forces staving off reinforcements, Malicia was able to safely make it to the ship. There were already Sith troops ahead of her. Some of them were gathering at the bottom of the transports ramp. She would've walked up to the door and cut it open since her mood was turbulently sour but the door opened by itself. A group of boots clanked against the durasteel ramp as the politicians, pilots and two civilians—including a child—wearily walked towards Malicia and the Sith soldiers with their hands up, fear and exhaustion on all their faces.

"Line them up," Malicia barked, waving her hand to the side.

One of the Sith troopers cracked a politician over the head with his weapon when he tried to talk. The politician was older and the strike caused him to fall to the ground, regardless they were all swiftly lined up. "Kill the pilots," she hissed, gesturing almost flippantly. It wasn't wanton death. She didn't need the pilots so it was safer to eliminate them. They were unknowns and whatever risk, however small or unlikely, was not worth keeping.

Each pilot was shot point-blank in the head execution style and some of the politicians in the crowd closed their eyes or tensed at the same time the pilots bodies hit the ground. Fear was thick in the air, but the only crying was coming from a small figure. A boy. It was that that brought Malicia's attention back to him, and when she focused she could feel it: the Force swirling faintly around him. He was likely using it without realizing.

It peaked her interest. It wasn't the first time she'd come across a Force sensitive child on the field, but there was something else she considered now. Malicia raised one of her hands without hesitation, wrapping the Force around the boy, causing him to cry out. The woman he'd been clung to screamed and cried and begged for her child back, but she was quickly dealt a hard blow to the head by one of the Sith soldiers.

Malicia stopped paying attention to the crying woman. The moment the boy was close enough the Darth wrapped her fingers around his arm tightly and began dragging him behind her, ignoring his sobbing. "ID them then load them up in our transport," Malicia ordered, pointing back to the group of politicians.

Her small frame stopped for a moment and her yellow eyes returned to the boy. "You'll be coming back to Korriban with me. If my child is born it will require playmates in the future," she explained. It was something she could take home from this, though she wasn't even certain the boy was listening or old enough to understand. Still, it was a thought that occurred to her.

A thought that reminded her of what she felt earlier. Raze. As she was reminded she let go of the boy, who was terrified enough not to move or speak. She took out her datapad with her free hands to send a message, "Are you okay? I'm here if you need me." The message was simple, but she wasn't sure what else to send. At least she'd sent something.

@Sreeya