And the Sun Rises

[Dutch]

Down several clicks below, the Sith camp was lively despite the early hours. Raised floodlights lighted everything. Vehicles moved siege cannons while Sith ordered groups of Imperials about. Squads of battle droids patrolled the various tents and covered ruins that the Empire occupied. This was not where the bulk of the Imperial armies lay, the opposite in fact. It was where the horde was thinnest that the Republic lay ready to ambush.

From high above the rim of the crater Levin crouched within a ruined Tarisian megastructure. Hidden within the ruined walls high above the rim of the crater, the Jedi High General and his platoon of Blades supported troopers were hidden in the pre-dawn gloom. The Blades were notable by their lack of jump-packs, most wearing armor similar to the troopers all around the building. Levin included, donning the standard issue plasteel cuirass, gauntlets and boots in a navy blue. He forwent the pauldrons, as well as the leg and arm guards for better maneuverability. Like several other Blades, the iconic cloak of the Jedi hung over the armor. Cinched at the waist to not be in the way, the hood that shrouded Levin’s face did little to protect from the rain that slowly began to fall. A shift would lead to the Jedi raising a comm to his lips, he paused a moment before thumbing to hail the platoon.

“You all know what must be done. Do not hold back, do not surrender. They won’t.”

Thunder rolled in the distance, and Levin rose to his feet. Comm replaced with the glinting hilt of his lightsaber, Levin peered back at the faces of everyone who looked up at him. It should be you leading them, Vreem Took… He nodded at his comrades once before turning back to the Sith that filled the crater below. Gently pulling the Force into himself, Levin leaped from the ruin without warning. Soaring through the morning mists, he watched calmly as the momentum lead him faster and faster towards the activity below. Levin could feel the other Blades along with the troopers following suit. The popping sounds of jump packs echoing from high above the Sith. Faster and faster they dropped, the spraying rain cool on his face. Suddenly flaring his presence outward, the Force shifted to aid cushion the Jedi’s landing as he dropped right into the center of the Imperial camp.

With a sharp inhale Levin held his arms at his sides, lightsaber clenched by thumb and pointer finger while his hands spread outwards. Within the Force the energies would shift, a low rumble just under hearing echoing from Levin as unyielding brightness began to roll off his presence. A pulse, a wave of searing Light would roll out. Several nearby Sith cursed and clenched their skulls, looks of confused panic cast at the source of their hated spectrum of the Force. Another pulse, and all around Levin would drop his platoon. Lightsabers all over ignited with the iconic snap-hiss of the weapon, and everywhere erupted blaster fire as Imperials and Republicans alike started slaughtering their enemies.

[Neology]

The Boomslang Assault Carrier was surprisingly agile for a ship of it's size. It still handled reentry a bit like a brick, threatening to shake apart before it settled it's armored belly among the clouds. Already packed into one of the gunships, Novus and her apprentice waited with a squad of soldiers. She watched them, parsing fear or excitement in every face. As for herself, she felt neither – only the bizarre, almost giddy release of seeing a project to its end.

This was it – and it was out of her hands. Swiveling toward Vance, Novus flashed a smile that she hoped would pass for reassuring. Idly, she wondered if he still believed that she would let him go home after all this – and whether he still wanted to go. A lot could change in seven months. Maybe not that much.

Somewhere many floors above, Darth Eurachis gave the order, starting the Sith invasion of Taris in earnest. Bay doors slid open on powerful pneumatic hinges. The gunship's engines buzzed to life, matched by the sound of near a dozen others. The Dark Lady buckled her seat belt, fingers idly dragging up the nylon strip.

A moment later, the armored gunship lurched forward, diving into the early morning dark. It spiraled down toward the crater among its brethren, chased by the crude shapes of drop pods: twenty soldiers or twenty-four droids apiece.

She could feel Levin's presence down there, a painful bright spot against a blurry backdrop of too-many-lives. So much for surprise – she'd known that to be a fool's hope ever since Nemsee's escape.

It didn't matter.

---

Novus leaned over the camp table, wiping wet hair out of her eyes as she squinted at the holomap. The crater glittered in shimmering white, dotted with amber triangles.

“My Lady. We have insufficient coverage in segments C-7, C-8, and D-7.” The command droid spoke in monotone, watching Novus impassively despite the programmed honorific.

“I'll take care of it.” She glanced to where her apprentice stood and motioned him over. “Grab some of the spares. We're going out there.” Without further delay, the Dark Lady tucked one of he devices – a bizarre hybrid of hand held radio and automatic drill - into the pocket of her rancor hide coat. She moved out into the rain, heavy boots squelching in the mud.

[Fromikeable]

Vance tried to focus on the little things. The rumbling sound of the ship. The jostle of his seat. The edge of the restraint digging into his abdomen. Were they pleasant? Oh no, in fact they were dreadful and annoying. But frankly, anything beat the idea of thinking of what was below.

He wished he could escape it. It was hardly a new desire; he’d wanted to leave the Sith since he’d arrived to them, but now… today the implications were far graver. Loyalty wasn’t just measured in sacrificed personal vows, but lives. Bad decisions weren’t just self-harming, but mortally wounding to others. Every choice was multiplied quintuple-fold, every breath ever critical…

When Novus smiled at him, he gulped lightly, trying to beat down the urge to vomit. He wouldn’t do anything today. Not a single, Force-damned thing…

---

… and he was picking up two spare devices, the clouds above them letting out an ominous boom as water began to fall. It was only a drizzle, but it might as well have been bucketfuls. When he had already vomited twice since landing, doing a poor job of blaming it on the long trip to Taris. When he’d stumbled now and then, he’d blamed it on a lack of sleep.

In truth? He was mortified.

So he stood at a reluctant ready, a device under each arm, his saber at his belt like a limp appendage. His face was pale, his eyes exuding a sadness, almost a pain as he nodded voiceless. He didn’t trust himself to speak; the last time he’d opened his mouth, he’d seen last night’s dinner. All he managed beyond simple body language was a short affirmative grump, almost more akin to a shot animal being forced to moved than a loyal follower raring to go.

He only had one wish today, and that was to escape with his soul. By his count… well, he might just have to settle for most of it.

[DreadPirateMike]

Ah, rain. It wouldn't be long at all now before Jaidan passed utterly beyond the reach of the tranquility that it could offer. In fact, he suspected it wouldn't be terribly long after THAT, as his sodden garments grew heavy and warriors on both sides began slipping in the mud, that he might begin to grow vaguely nostalgic for his desperate struggle for survival out on Tatooine's Dune Sea. But up here now, as he and his fellows maintained their gargoyle's vigil, that was all of little consequence. And though he could see little enough of the drizzle in this pre-dawn dimness, his other senses were more than enough.

All preparations had been made. He'd stretched, and eaten a moderate breakfast. Not enough to slow him down, but nor did he neglect the protein. He'd be needing that. All his weapons were securely stowed. His blaster was fully charged, and several replacement power packs were stored for easy retrieval. He LOOKED a bit under-dressed in this company, granted, being among the relatively few to have entirely eschewed the heavy armor plate, but even at that, a close inspection of his robes would reveal a slightly heavier, quilted pattern to them. The only attack one could call themselves totally safe from, of course, was the one that never landed, and as such, he'd always placed more faith in skill than in armor. But in light of the sheer scale of the task before him, he'd at last relented, and traded in mundane cloth for armorweave wherever it was practical to do so. There was a fine line between confidence and arrogance, after all. It still seemed a little heavy, but he judged the trade offs acceptable.

And there was the rain. He gathered that to himself now, even as Master Caelum made his short address. The same peace which had lulled him to sleep times beyond counting as a boy would be with him even down there, wrapped about him like a blanket. And even as the fight grew savage and desperate, even as he let that savagery flow through him like river water through a mill wheel, that tranquility would not desert him.

He was almost like a Jedi that way.

And then, he was away, knifing through the air like a seasoned high diver as he wordlessly followed his commander down. He allowed himself a smile as he built up speed. It might be his last for the forseeable future, after all. The rush of air, the thrill of knowing that despite the danger they raced toward, the very speed with which they rushed to meet it would keep him in near perfect safety on the way down...was this akin to what the Mandalorians felt, as they descended on those fabled Basilisks?

Ah, but no need to dwell on that any longer, if ever there had been. He'd not been at Gargon. Nor Ordo, nor Thila. But he was here. He'd not be celebrating it much longer, he knew. Very soon now, he'd do things he'd regret, even as he calmly accepted their necessity, and forged ahead anyway. His Jedi teachings, held dear in spite of his at times distant and complicated relationship with their Code, told him he was about to abet a tragedy. That which the great and enigmatic Force would bind together, his swords and his will would cast asunder.

But it never had to be this way, did it? That energy which suffused all of creation, which wiser men and women spent all their lives seeking to understand...that would have been enough, surely? The Force could have existed well enough on its own, having no particular need of stars or the worlds that circled them. Yet these things had come to pass, and more. Life had arisen, with all its wonder, and all its weakness. Gand, Rodians...Jaidan Shatani. If there was any underlying purpose to all of this, then that played into it. And down in that crater, amidst the coming bloodshed, was where Jaidan Shatani, warrior, must seek his significance.

And just like that, the time for philosophy was at an end, as the softened but still jarring impact with the ground reverberated through a frame made strong enough to endure it. His foil came to life immediately, his feet seeking Levin's side as his eyes sought out the particularly quick witted among the Imperial infantry. Droids, mostly; he paid the obvious Sith themselves no mind, just yet. Instead, working in concert with a handful of others forming a defensive perimeter around the Jedi Master, he batted away the few disjointed blaster bolts that came his way, to ensure the man's work went undisturbed.

There was no mistaking the nature of the light when it burst forth; ally to its source or not, he could not deny he suddenly felt very naked in its presence, as if his entire life, his every choice, his every instinctive urge was suddenly under the view of a very perceptive, vindictive eye. He'd known this might be the result; there was darkness in every soul, and Jaidan had let the things that fed it closer than most Jedi. But he'd only explored that edge in his time, never crossed over it, and he was able to shake off the feeling after a moment, having passed the test. Which was more than those previously ignored Sith could say, collapsing in agony alongside their very alarmed and confused allies. For three of them, that agony was exceedingly brief. Jaidan's drawn blaster saw to that.

They deserved better, even though they'd most assuredly done worse. It wasn't the last sad reality he'd have cause to bemoan. But as the whole of the Republic strike force arrived, coming in shooting or swinging, Jaidan at least had leave to break off, and seek targets at will. The honor or death by the sword was a small mercy indeed, but it was something, and he meant to grant it. In great measure.

[Chariot]

So it was finally here. The day Karta had been dreading. The day where she would finally be forced to put her combat training to the test.

The blonde woman awoke in a cold sweat, surrounded on all sides by the faint sound of sliding doors and hushed but frantic voices, footsteps making that distinct clink sound that faded with time. She pushed the duvet away from her, curling into a tight ball and squeezing her eyes closed, desperation taking over as her mind flashed back to the incident with the pirate boarding party. She was just a medical officer then. Now she was an Admiral. Regardless of how she got to this position, she had a duty to fulfill.

A familiar voice sounded over the comm, measured and controlled as usual but with a hint of panic and stress that she had never noted in said voice before. Kitty-Bear was scared just as she was, it was quite obvious. And instantly Karta regretted anything she had ever done to annoy or upset her friend.

"Your presence is required on the bridge, sir."

Her knee-jerk reaction was to tell her off for the formality, but this wasn't the time for that. In fact she was happy that in times of hardship, Kitty-Bear's first reaction was to go back to the books and do things properly. Karta needed that in her crew. Hell if she could get a maid with her assistant's magnificent abilities, she'd be a very lucky lady. Then again she doubted she'd get any work done with two girls like that working for her. It was bad enough with just one.

"I'll... I'll be down in a second. And in proper dress, don't you worry."

She knew full well that was the least of anyone's worries right now, but in a strange way she was trying to make her assistant realize that for once in her pampered, ostentatious life, Karta was taking this very seriously. A gentle sigh of what sounded like relief preceded the drop of the call, leaving the Admiral alone with her thoughts again. A dangerous prospect to be certain; it was time to busy herself.

Sliding herself off the bed and walking to the wardrobe wasn't exactly a difficult task, even if the walk felt painstakingly long as compared to the last time she did it. Rather, the hard part was dressing in her full uniform for the first time since her promotion. It almost made what they were about to do official. Like the zipper was sealing her fate. And with amusement she remembered a time on Telos where she had felt the exact same feeling, for a different reason. Things were much simpler then.

Dressed in her orange, ochre and black uniform, complete with a matching coat, Karta took a deep breath, fixing her posture. It was no good to anyone to see the Admiral looking so lazy and tired in times of such immense stress. They knew what was coming. Karta had to look like she would get them through it. Even though the likelihood of that was... well, less than she'd like.

Stepping through the winding corridors and passing the many crew members who bid her salutes and greetings, she found herself in what her mind was telling her was her tomb. The bridge. She forced her confident smile before any of the bridge crew could see her, walking with a feigned sense of purpose and power; she thought she saw a few of the crew give gentle sighs of comfort at the sight of their apart fearless leader. They knew it was a ruse. They all knew. But just for a moment they wanted to forget what they knew.

Kitty-Bear gave her an official-looking nod and salute, which Karta halfheartedly waved off, leaving her to return to her work and Karta to settle into her chair, staring into the rippling purple of hyperspace, knowing that within just a few minutes, they'd be in the middle of chaos incarnate.

"Billin, how long?"

"Three minutes, 24 seconds, sir."

A squeaky, terrified voice sounded from behind her somewhere, coming from Navigation Officer Durg Billins. New to his post, young and reckless, he reminded Karta of herself far too much for her to feel comfortable.

"Kitty-Bear, status on the battle?"

"Seems to have only just begun, sir."

"Good... we're not late. Prep the weapons! I get the feeling we're going to be jumping straight into a firefight."

She heard the frantic tapping of control panels behind her, familiarized codes and authorizations being spoken and gunner sergeants dashing off, yelling into their comms for their subordinates to get ready.

This was going to be one hell of a bumpy ride...

[sparrow]

Zarene Yin smiled as she stepped into the command room of the Krait, one of the Boomslang assault carriers that had broken off from the main fleet and descended through the atmosphere of Taris. For weeks she had been overseeing training drills and practice runs. The carriers were a new addition to the Sith fleet, among the largest capital ships capable of effectively operating in a planetary atmosphere, designed to quickly deploy troops on the surface and to provide fire support afterwards. Finally, it was time to put that training to use in the field.

She stood before a large holomap that displayed a three-dimensional projection of the surrounding area. Various crew members attended to the consoles surrounding the holomap, receiving reports and adding new indicators to the map interface. Novus had already landed with the first wave of troops, their positions being marked by red dots on the holomap. As they finished their descent, a series of deep, rhymic thumping began to echo throughout the ship as the Krait launched its own salvos of pods. The pods dropped down, cracking open when they hit the ground to reveal more troops and battle droids, reflected in an ever increasing stream of red dots being added to the map.

The sound of footsteps came from behind as the last round of thumps died down. Lieutenant Sen had just come from the bridge. Human, mid-twenties, his uniform perfectly pressed and boots polished to a shine. The young officer saluted. "All pods have been deployed, Commander, save for ... that one."

The gator. "Ah, yes. We're saving that one for later. Now, go tell Captain Haviar to take us up half a kilometer. Get us better view of the field. Launch all squadrons. Defensive formations around the carriers. We'll likely be seeing some Republic interceptors soon."

WIth another salute, the young lieutenant marched off swiftly to deliver the orders. She turned her attention to the control panel before her, filled with buttons and knobs for switching between over a dozen different comm channels. One for communication between the carrier bridges, one for the fighters squadrons, a few more for various squads of ground troops, as well as a direct line to the Darth. She adjusted the mouthpiece of her comm as she switched over to that last channel.

"Lady Novus, pods have been deployed and the troops are ready to move out. In the meantime, I've got extra turbolaser batteries up here and not enough targets. Tell me what you want lit up."

[Ash]

Diarmuid doubted that there was a better spot for an Observation Point in the area, when he set up camp at first. A half collapsed skyscraper served as the OP, and was away from the majority of wildlife.

A few clicks below and to the east of him, the Sith encampment lay, lively as ever and not caring for any sort of light nor sound discipline. We'll, they seemed fairly well defended from any outside breach, and Diarmuid doubted anyone would be stupid enough to jump right inside and start a battle there.

Around Diarmuid, over two dozen troopers in matted armor were waking up, either from the noise, or from the thunder, which sounded fairly close to them. Mere minutes later, it started to rain. Besides the Matt black armor setting these troopers apart from others, they had a teal stripe down the front left chest-piece, from shoulder to hip, and down the left arm.

That was when the man stood up finally, leaving the collapsed red spear against the pillar he just vacated. He didn't wear any of the armor his troopers had on, but stuck with his iconic teal and black outfit, fitted with his usual armor pieces. He looked towards his Apprentice, curious to if he felt Jedi massing near the Sith Camp.

Diarmuid breathed in the morning air, walking close to the blown out wall facing the camp, feeling anticipation coursing through him. Using the force, he called his spear to him, still collapsed and twirled it around absentmindedly with his hand.

Reaching out with the force, he felt the Jedi, and roughly where they were. He felt them jump, fallowed by Republic troopers. So, they were ones to jump off and start an attack in the middle of this place. Right after they landed, he felt a wave of... something, and at where he was, felt a stinging sensation, which began to sear, and he felt his connection to the dark side break off. Pain and fear radiated from Sith at the camp, and Diarmuid could only imagine what just happened. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Ladies and Gents, the Republic was generous enough to jump right into that little camp down there. They went for a weak section, so I say we go lend a hand.

There was a harrumph from the Troopers, and those who didn't have their helmets or jet packs on donned them. They would be ready in minutes.

Apprentice, I hope you're ready for this. Stick close and you'll be fine. Remember to keep an open mind too, and use the environment, deception, and surprise to keep the upper hand in the fight, and you'll get out of here alive.

There was a sadness in Diarmuid's eyes as he though of his first Padawan back when he was a Jedi, a few short years ago. He didn't want to loose another one: seemed like he still wasn't all dark and gloomy like so many other Sith.

When everyone was ready, he turned to look at his troopers.

You two, stay here and man the radio. Get the other Knights up and over here for support. Hermit, Siegfried, Man the east tower with snipers. Loki, Thor; west tower. Same thing. Odin, you're set up here. Frigg, watch his back.

Those who's names were called off nodded their affirmations and went off to a back exit, going to jump building to their respected positions. The ones to remain here began to get a large laser sniper set up, with Frigg setting up her spotting scope as well. Odin's cybernetic eye was glowing menacingly as he set himself up in a seated position.

Diarmuid nodded a few times, check to ensure his lightsaber pike was secure in his left, and only, bracer, and held his red spear in his right hand. A dangerous look was in his orange eyes. He tossed on a jet pack as well.

Let's go!

With a yell, the 20 or so troopers jumped off, using their packs to get the distance they needed to make it to the right spot before free falling for most of the time. Diarmuid waited a few seconds before he leaped, using the force to carry him forward. He made it to his troops as they started their packs, slowing their decent, and they started to shoot at anyone wearing republic colors.

Diarmuid used the jump pack to cushion his fall, extending his spear to its full 2 meter length. He landed on the outskirts of the battle area, and would proceed slowly, especially with his connection to the force wonky, and body burning.

[andas009]

Francisco knew this day would come, and he had done his best to prepare for it. Still, his preparations had done little to quell the fear he felt as he saw the sheer amount of Sith dropships heading straight for the planet's surface. Francisco and his squad were assigned to skirmishing and harassment missions on the Republic's right flank. 

Francisco felt the ground move beneath his boots, he had been ordered to patrol the far right flank to make sure no Sith scouting parties could get intel on the Republic lines. Sure enough, he heard movement in the brush up ahead, and ordered his men to stay still and get down. Laying down in the mud bothered Francisco, but he knew it was the best way to conceal himself from the approaching Sith party. 

After a few minutes of tense silence, a lightly armored Sith soldier set his foot through the bush in front of Francisco. A few seconds later, the rest of his men emerged, but one of them had spotted Howard and shouted out to his comrades. Francisco wasted no time and squeezed the trigger of his rifle firmly, and was rewarded with a firm kickback and the loud sound of a bolt leaving the barrel. The red projectile impacted the lead soldier in the shoulder, knocking him down. The rest of Francisco's men quickly opened fire, and the rest of the Sith scouts fell to the ground, managing to only get a few missed shots off. 

Francisco sighed as that was already the first scouting party, and he was still five clicks away from the patrol area. He slowly got up, as did the rest of his squad, and trudged on through the mud and underbrush. Deciding it would be best to radio in the early contact, Francisco opened his channel and let the horrendous static disperse before speaking up. "Command, we have contact with Sith forces on the right flank, 4 tangos KIA with no losses. We are still five clicks from the mission zone, should we continue forward and look for more or do we return to base?"

[Mara]

[...from Against the Wind]

Looma had awoken early, unable to sleep much the night before, and had just stared out at the stars, listening to the sounds of the darkened Taris. She was about to partake in her first real battle against the Republic and the Jedi. And she would be lying to herself if she wasn't at least a little bit nervous about it. Oh, she had been there on Subterrel in what seemed forever ago but had only been about a year or so. But that had been a small contingent, a surgical strike on a Republic stronghold, while the Sith were still revealing themselves to the galaxy. Plus, there was that little thing of her almost getting herself killed because of her overconfidence. Yes, the yellow Twi'lek had reason to be anxious about what was to come.

Now, she stood in the shadows a couple of meters distance from her master, her new master, listening to the not-so-distant rumbles of thunder and the preparations going on around her. At this thought, she glanced over to where the tall man sat, somehow needing visual confirmation that he existed, and it wasn't just another dream vision. It was a concept she hadn't gotten used to entirely yet, and honestly sometimes she forgot she was no longer a lone initiate but instead an apprentice again. Not that she didn't appreciate the second chance--or really, third or fourth--Master Ua Duibhne had given her. But it had been completely unexpected when a couple weeks prior they had first crossed paths back at the Temple on Korriban, a strange meeting that had eventually brought them together as teacher and student.

The Twi'lek adjusted her position, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She was uncomfortable. Though he had eschewed such himself, her master had insisted she wear armor for the conflict ahead. Looma didn't disagree its helpfulness; the last thing she needed or wanted was a stray bolt to take her out, wounding her or worse. But what did bother was the added bulk, despite its lightweight manufacture and maneuverability. To compensate, she had foregone her usual tunics and trousers, opting for a more form-fitted top belted over leggings of the same that her armor pieces could fit snugly over top without much chafing or rubbing as she moved. Her worn boots and black cloak finished the ensemble.

Seeing her master come to his feet and glance towards her before moving forward, Looma followed. There was a little tinkling as she moved, the three lightsaber hilts she carried banging into each other: one her own, the others gifted to her from her old master. She knew it was foolish taking them all along, as she could barely wield one with any sort of authority, and she would be grief-stricken to lose them. But this was a major fight, and it was best to be prepared, even if the majority of her training up until this point lay in the base form Shii-Choo. Along with the traditional weapons, she had her bag of metal shards, only these were new and improved over her original ones. Made of high-strength durasteel and more uniform in shape, they were ten times deadlier than her old ones.

She nodded as he addressed her personally before going over instructions for his soldiers. "Yes, Master." Looma swallowed heavily and ran over the words a few times in her mind, not wanting to disappoint him so soon after they had come together. The Twi'lek didn't exactly feel ready but decided that in a way that was a positive trait. Being too confident in her abilities had failed her epically in the past, and so if she had a healthy sense of her shortcomings this time around--not to mention sticking close to her master--she would survive this. Her fear could be used to advantage if paired with the skills she knew she excelled at.

Soon enough, it was beginning; her master's trooper group was leaping off the makeshift platform born out of the wrecked building. Her heart rate accelerated as the time approached for her own jump, and she slipped on her jet pack over her robe. Made sure it was secure and then flipped up her hood to cover her head against the advancing rain. If she just focused on the task at hand, she wouldn't have time to think about all her nervous energy and misgivings. Or the fact that she was purposely stepping off solid ground.

Without giving her brain a chance to catch up to what she was doing, she mirrored her master. Except that as she activated the jet pack, she squeezed shut her violet eyes as she jumped into oblivion. There was a split second that she worried her pack would fail and that she would fall to her death, a Twi'lek splotch against the earth. But then it kicked in, and she pulled on the Force, using it to guide her path, keeping herself in her master's wake as they descended. And then it was over, and she was on the ground, discarding the jet assist, and pacing behind and to her master's right. Her arms held at her sides, ready to reach for her weapons at a moment's notice.

Because she was Sith. This was war. And nothing else mattered now.

[Valcor]

"Five minutes 'til drop marines. Maaaake ready." Radiated the voice of the gruff pilot through the thick hull of the transport, only audibly interrupted by the booming of anti-air blasts just outside the transport craft.  At the word of the commanding officer all subordinate marines latched themselves into their seats within the drop pod.  There was little chatter among the troopers, these were no green, fresh off the line rookies, these were battle-hardened Navy Marines with even the youngest of their number sporting scars from long battles fought.  One of the grizzliest of them being 310 pound, Rendillian born, Sargent Demyan Mikhail.

    Among these hand-picked soldiers, with armor just as battered and burned as his, he was just a face in the crowd, another currently silent trooper preparing for battle once again with the sith as so many millions had done for years before; but for Demyan the preparation for the coming conflict always seemed like his first time.  In the calm before the battle, his stomach always trembled, his body cold with the anticipation, his fingers tingled as adrenaline pumped hard in his veins.  Demyan was one of the first to dawn his helmet, too pale with dread to face his fellow soldiers.  Like his battle brothers, Demyan pulled down his harness over his plastoid armored chest, flicking on his green "ready" signal within his helm, informing the commanding officer he was ready for the drop.

    The drop pods were cramped indicative of their need to limit surface area.  They held barely 20 men within them and yet looking at one, an observer could barely imagine a single squad fitting into such a small space.  However, Republic engineers were a clever sort and did not waste a single inch of ground within the "craft".  Every trooper was shoulder to shoulder with his fellows, as well as face to face with another.  Not even their gear was between any of them, having to be stowed above their heads in storage compartments.  For Demyan, being a man used to having his personal space, this was most uncomfortable.  Normally for a large burly man sporting a weapon the length of a medium sized hound, personal space was never an issue, but cramped in a drop pod he had only ever had the pleasure of riding into battle one other time, Demyan found himself feeling similar to canned food.


    After all of the soldiers within the first drop pod had latched into place, their lieutenant strode around the small octagonal path that ran between the awaiting troopers, looking over each marine ensuring they were combat ready, not that the older soldier had doubts any of this group were not fully prepared.  "Men... The grubs think they can start this little assault against a sith weak spot alone... Without us!"  The lieutenant, his helm under the crook of his arm as he spoke, letting the men see the smug sneer splayed across his gruff, unshaven face.  His last words spurred a small wave of chuckling among the troopers as they heard it.  "I think they're having a party down there and forgot to invite us... Well if the marine'sve taught me anything, it's that we sure like crashing parties, especially sith ones! Haha!"  With that, the man dawned his own helm, lifting up his own compartment's hatch with his opposite arm.  "We're the Marines!" He barked into his com link, his words booming in his men's helms as the pilot activated the green light, clearing the pod for drop.  With one single simultaneous response, the drilled chant known to every Navy Marine in existence boomed throughout the pod. Then they began falling.  "Hooah!" was the last words they shared before the screaming sound of reentry drowned out any other sounds within the pod.

    Lights flicked out and the inside of the craft turned into chaos.  Metal creaked and groaned as if the next moment might tear them all asunder.  Gear and armor battered against the sides of each slot the troopers sat in as each slight shift of the craft sent them all against one metal plate or another.  All this was in complete darkness, further adding to the fear that was rising within the belly of Sargent Mikhail.  His heart pounded in his ears, his face numb and body tensed, all preparing for the tide of war that was about to wash over all of them.  Almost as soon as they had dropped in Demyan's mind, so too did they land.

    All the built up momentum such an object, like their drop pod, generated since release, slammed the hunk of metal and man into the already battered ground that was their new battlefield. Taris.  Within moments of impact, the doors around the pod burst open, powered by small powder charges to ensure a successful exit for the troopers within.  Demyan required no commands from his superiors to know what to do next, nor any of his fellow soldiers.  With almost mechanical precision, each soldier unhooked himself from the pod and retrieved his respective weapon from the cargo space above him before piling out of the pod.  Unlike in the training drills, the group had luckily landed a few hundred meters from the place the ground team had initially assaulted, leaving them a clean landing zone.  "Pile out! Let's go!" The lieutenant barked to his men, now fully loaded up with their survival packs and weaponry.  No sooner had the commanding officer finished speaking, did another pod come screaming in, another hundred meters back.

    "Company 2 sir." Demyan said turning to his officer in the midst of the troopers sprinting across the clearing that might have once been a road.  "Slackers... Well Sargent, don't want them catching up do we?" The lieutenant responded with a hearty laugh once the pack took cover behind their first building, one short block away from the crater.  Demyan cracked a smile, this newest lieutenant helped calm the nervous heavy trooper's anxiety significantly, and helped cool the burning in the large man's face.  Yes, he would do well for these men.  "Alright boys, over that crest at the end of the block is the Sith camp. Let's show them who's planet this really is!" With a roar of encouraged battle cries, the fresh reinforcements sprinted on ahead and over the lip of the rubble that separated them from their enemy, and the moment the camp reflected off their visors, their blasters opened up.  The commanding officer quickly opened coms with the troops bellow, ensuring they knew the fresh faces were friendly, "Heard you lads could use a hand." He chuckled as a hail of blue blaster fire tore through the air.

    Demyan finally felt calm wash over him as his Heavy Blaster cannon whirred in his hands, it's rotating barrels unleashing a blazing torrent of plasma at whatever was unfortunate enough to stand before him.  The battle had begun and the pre-fight jitters had finally receded; now Demyan felt only the focus of a war tested soldier in him, and he was ready.

[Dutch]

From all around Levin could feel reinforcements from both armies begin to arrive. Sith dropping in from the surrounding buildings, an orbital drop from the Republic. Within the Force thousands of souls began to bloom with emotion. Regret. Rage. Triumph. Fear. He could visibly see them manifest in the air, great clouds of black steam mired by ripples of color. Blues and reds, purples and yellows ebbed from the sea of sentients. The visions could be beautiful, were it not also horrible. It was all Levin could do to draw upon the Force around him, so stained by darkness as it was. Yet it was entirely necessary, lest the Sith feast upon the ever growing dark side.

A sharp inhale would follow Levin setting his jaw, slowly raising his arms higher as the Force billowed off him anew. Waves of light would buffet the surrounding dark, sanding away the ropes of black smoke meant to power the Sith. His eyes would remained fixed ahead, somehow serene despite the bloodshed all around. It was not his eyes that were needed to watch for threats, for the Force was his ally. His comrades that encircled the General were holding back any who tried to interrupt Levin's casting. The longer he moved to sustain the Light, the more Sith around him struggled to fight without the dark side fueling them. But the soldiers and droids all around began to take notice. A Blade attempted to toss up a barrier to stop a salvo of blaster fire, but it didn't last long against the onslaught. The invisible shield shattered, and the caster was cut down. A few stray bolts screamed into Levin's shoulder, and the Jedi would roll with the kinetic force until his footing became stable again.

A whisper of the Force would cause Levin to spin, eyes locked on a hefty looking epicanthix as he charged for the Jedi. A great vibrosword in hands, the Sith soldier sprinted right for the General hoping to end the threat with a single swing of his sword. Levin stood defiant, stock still until the epicanthix swung. The vibrosword hissed through the air, the tip of it opening a thin cut at Levin's cheek as he dodged. Another swing would be caught by Levin's mailed gauntlet, grunting as he felt the teeth tear at his free hand. The Jedi would swing the hand that clutched the hilt of his lightsaber, the fist thudded audibly into the attacker's throat followed by the snap-hiss of his blade igniting. Silver light bathed Levin and the epicanthix, flashing brightly as the Jedi swiped the blade to take the head of the soldier.

"Close ranks!" Levin would bellow with voice and the Force alike, eyes moving to account the various Blades and soldiers that moved to join him. A slow breath would pull the Force within him, melding it into mending energies that began to waft off the Jedi. The blood that pattered from his torn palm slowly ceased, and the cut at his cheek closed as if zipped shut. All around, the Blades and soldiers alike who had been injured watched as their own wounds healed. Cuts and bruises gone as if wiped away, already exhausted expressions suddenly steeled with new resolve. This was Levin's true power, the real reason he needed to be on the field of battle. This was his strength, his gift. And with it, the Sith would be stopped.

[Neology]

Silence was a bad sign; she knew that much for sure. Novus shot her apprentice curious glance, her expression unreadable as they pressed on, scrambling down a slight incline. Slipping the last few inches, the Dark Lady hit the ferrocrete roadway below at a slight jog.

Had the kid betrayed her? He was clever and she had, perhaps, allowed him too much freedom. It was possible. It would explain the stress she felt coming off him in waves, impressions of jagged yellow lines and nausea, but she didn't want to believe it. Pre-battle jitters? She could not recall ever being so affected. Vomiting seemed a rather detrimental overreaction …

“If you'd rather wait in the c -” High above, dark shapes fell heavily toward the earth, felt rather than seen or heard but arresting her attention nonetheless. Through the Force, one group of soldiers felt much the same as another. A momentary annoyance only - one landed in the distance, disgorging troopers in white armor. Novus broke into a run, clearing off the cracked roadway and into the cover offered by the remains of a ruined hospital, treading through water and scrub. Sticking to exterior halls, she led her apprentice toward the back of the building.

Zarene's voice filled her ear with a welcome report and a request for targets. Novus fidgeted with her headset, ready to run if she sensed another pod about to land on their heads.

“The enemy is dropping reinforcements from orbit. Put a stop to it, Zarene.” A vague response, but her current handle on the battle in space was lacking to put it mildly.

Satisfied that she and Vance remained undetected, Novus lead back out and into what had been, before it was ever part of the Undercity, a large park. Segment C-7, if anything improved by the Sith bombardment centuries ago. Overgrown memorials overlooked fields of scattered greenery, the ecology of the battered planet slowly reasserting itself. An amphitheater at the heart, old stone and skeletal vaulting. Novus made for the center, flitting from cover to cover whenever possible.

“A third of the way done.” She spoke, not quite willing to meet Vance's eyes as she held out her hand for one of the screamers.

[Fromikeable]

The Dark Lady’s glance was neither noticed nor returned as Vance focused on the topography. If he was thinking about slags of ferrocrete, rebar, and pathing, he couldn’t be thinking about an eternal worry for his soul, the well-beings of others, and the nature of the things that were snuggly wrapped by his arms… right?

Well, if debris doesn’t do it, the shells might. As if on cue, a rain of shells thundered off in the distance; the fighting would only start to swell from now on.

So when Novus actually piped up, he jumped a little, his mind a million miles away examining the cracks of the things mere feet from him. He jumped again, slightly less so this time, when something hurtled out of the sky a few blocks up the street and smashed into the ground, the sound of servos and clinking metal being just audible as soldiers began to jump out of it. When Novus dashed off to the side to hide, he followed suit, displaying a far less graceful performance.

Guys just doing their jobs. Which, granted, involved killing people.

Ergo, Novus piping orders silently for “a stop” to them did make his breath catch just a little. He tried to tell himself that it was just something he’d have to hear, that it was a warzone and that they’d shoot him dead without a single thought, that there was no room for sympathy or peace in a place just so blatantly conflicted…

… it didn’t work, and with a shaky sigh, he shook his head, bit his lip, and followed the Arkanian out.

Their destination was honestly quite gorgeous. Had he not been in such a state, the ex-padawan might have stopped to admire it, the rare greenery shuffling ominously with the incoming storm’s breeze. The rain lightly assaulted each and every branch and leaf, leaving them all soaked and palpable to the rushing air. Many of the leaves found themselves swept up in the streams of wind, being whisked far away from their homes.

Or were they simply taking an opportunity to escape? That made Vance furrow his brow a little.

An outreached hand was filled with one of the screamers, the thing trembling slightly as the giving limb shivered a little. To Novus’s credit, Vance couldn't quite look at her either, focusing on the small patches of grass ruffling under the weather, taking in the sounds as closely as he could. The wind’s high pitch, the booms of war off in the distance, the hum of…

… What the hell is humming? Looking up, Vance’s eyes quickly darted this way and that, his body seizing as his heartbeat skyrocketed a little. His head jerked around a bit, scanning the way they’d come in, other entrances to the park, even the amphitheater. There was nothing, not a single thing that could possibly be producing hu-

And then he saw it. Two purple lights shaking their way closer and closer from a tunnel on the opposite end of the park.

His hand immediately grabbed Novus’s wrist, his voice quiet but obviously terse. “We need to go now.”

[DreadPirateMike]

Coming up with one effective solution to a problem was ideal. More than one solution, if all involved had not all agreed to pick one, was decidedly less than ideal. Fortunately for the Republic troops fighting to expand this little beachhead, the Sith were starting to run into a touch of scenario number two. You had the warriors of the Sith Order, suddenly deprived of all their favorite means of inflicting murder save their lightsabers, yet unwilling to cut and run in full view of the troops. Joined by some regular soldiers of similar mindset and armament, they charged in to seek their carnage in melee. Some ordinary riflemen, having no such compunctions, discovered that the color of a lightsaber in close quarters did nothing to make it any less terrifying, and retreated to try and fight from a more favorable distance. Others still, seeing cowardice rather than tactical sense in the retreat, focused on trying to bully them back to the center.

All them, thankfully, did the one thing that Jaidan hoped they might. They got in the way of the last group, with what he judged the most effective plan: to simply drown the Republic strike force in massed blaster fire while their numbers were still containable.

That wasn't to say they were having an easy time of it. Enough Sith troopers and war droids found clear shots, switched to grenades, or simply kept firing without regard for who stepped in their way - Jaidan had to imagine more than one terrified Sith infantryman might regard shooting an actual Sith in the back as their life's ambition. - that for all his years of practice and considerable skill at it, Jaidan was soon working his Echani butt off trying to deflect all the bolts seeking either him or the Jedi master behind him. And just when it seemed as though the pressure might be easing up, Republic reinforcements providing both new targets and new firepower, when he saw the repeater blaster rifle draw a bead on him. What's more, there was a shiny new top of the line war droid holding it. He knew full well that thing could simply hold down the trigger, and its computerized targeting and gyroscopic stabilization could put one blaster bolt right on top of the other until the power cell ran empty.

Excellent. Deflecting fire from such weapons with an organic holding it was always much more of a chore on account of the random factor, even the most skilled and disciplined of marksmen only ever partially managing to correct for recoil. If you couldn't simply get out of the way, you had to REALLY lean on the Force and hope for the best to stay ahead of that. But here, all he had to do was anticipate the very first bolt, pick his angle carefully and watch, as said bolt knocked an unsuspecting black clad soldier on his ass. After that, he shifted the foil around but kept the point of contact with the stream of energetic plasma the same, creating a horizontal strafing effect that mowed down a line of Sith troopers before finally decapitating the original war droid.

But effective as that was, not to mention satisfying in a purely professional sense, he didn't quite do EVERYTHING right. Even as he dealt with the droid, other shooters kept up the furious effort to overwhelm him. His off hand saber was just as busy protecting him against these other attackers, but even his coordination and talent for multi-tasking had its limits. Soon enough, he deflected a bolt just a moment too late, altering its course but only into his gut rather than his chest. The armorweave certainly proved its worth then; combined with the Force, it was enough to keep him on his feet, and twisting enough to catch a second bolt in the upper back, where the outer robe added a second layer of protection.

Damn stupid to have spurned armor this long, he supposed. Damn lucky to have gotten this far on skill alone. But fortunately, when moments like this came, these rude reminders that your training wasn't complete yet and never would be...

"Close ranks!"

For times like that, there was Levin Caelum, Jedi Master. Jaidan needed no repeat of the order. Struggling back into the close formation, he redoubled his focus on keeping the blaster fire at bay, and only just managed to avoid closing his eyes as the feeling of profound relief washed over him, clearing away both the pain and the injuries that had caused them. He could offer the man only a grateful smile for the favor returned, his momentary failure redeemed. As ever, to fight at his side was an honor. But with a grin, he resolved that Levin would need not come rushing to his aid again.

With a running, Force assisted leap, he was beyond the formation, and among the ever more tightly packed and chaotic Sith lines, sabers lashing out at all targets of opportunity. It was time to split up the enemy's focus a bit.

[sparrow]

The Krait hovered just beneath the clouds, overlooking the battlefield like a dark specter. Its heavy turbolaser batteries battered away at the fort's defenses, while the smaller laser turrets targeted troops and speeders on the ground, as well as Republic interceptors zipping through the air. The command room of the ship was a flurry of activity, monitors flashing the latest battlefield updates, orders being shouted through various channels. Zarene sat calmly at her station, keeping an attentive watch on it all.

Novus's voice came through the comm. “The enemy is dropping reinforcements from orbit. Put a stop to it, Zarene.”

"Acknowledged." Switching away from Novus's channel, she turned towards her subordinates. "Mandon, send a message up to Lord Eurachis. Tell him that if I'm going to take out the fort's planetary defense gun for him, he needs to keep the Republic fleet from dropping reinforcements on me. Ivon, signal blue squadron to pull back and engage the Republic interceptors. Have all topside gunners focus on the drop pods."

On the monitors, she watched as the pods a new wave of pods carrying Republic reinforcements began their descent from orbit, dropping through the clouds, only to meet a wall of laser fire. Zarene never considered herself to particularly bloodthirsty, but she could not help the feeling of immense satisfaction as the pods burst in flame, exploding into bits of fiery shrapnel and charred corpses, some vaporizing against the ship's shields, the rest raining down on their own troops below. Beautiful.

She switched her comm back to Novus's channel. "If the Republic is trying to bring in reinforcements, we should give them a taste of our own. I think it's time we deployed the gator. I'm eager to see what the beast can do."

[Chariot]

Breathing a deep sigh to steel herself for what was to come, Karta watched the seconds tick down as the hammerhead wrenched itself through Hyperspace, blazing a desperate trail of ion engines and screaming it's ID signature all the way. If they were going to arrive on the battlefield, it'd be in style. Style enough to force the Sith fleet to rethink their life choices.

Her hands gripped the arms of her chair tightly, hearing an unnatural silence in the bridge, broken only by the constant thrum of the hyperdrive and the slow, methodical breathing of her assistant. Prematurely she stood, feeling the seconds tick by like hours, leaning on the handrail as the timer steadily reduced it's count. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, gentle but reassuring. Karta didn't even need to look to know who it was. One of Kitty-Bear's rare moments of sympathy allowing the blonde woman to focus her mind on what was to come.

And then the noise made her jump.

The screech of hyperspace tearing and forcing the hammerhead out of it's purple depths into the burning white lines of distant stars, getting shorter and shorter until the scene before them unfolded. Just as Karta suspected, they were going to need those weapons. Immediately she was hailed on the comms, both by the Sith and the Republic. An automatic response to any ship arriving to the conflict, attempting to determine their allegiance before firing upon them. The Sith call ended before Karta had a chance to deny it herself, noticing a smaller ship break away from the main fleet and make a bee-line straight for them.

With a grunt of annoyance, she pressed the button to open communications between the commanding Republic ship and her own, simultaneously barking orders to the ship's internal comm system. Almost in perfect synchronicity, all of the guns came online at once and the ship wheeled to starboard, allowing for a full broadside of turbolasers aimed towards the smaller ship.

"They don't consider us a threat. Let's prove them wrong."

The Republic fleet said nothing over the comms but she could hear muffled orders and bursts of sparks, noting that in the distance the firefight between the two fleets was getting very hairy. The Sith capital ships moving to get a concave on the Republic and force them towards the back of the planet, where realistically they'd have no escape. Any hyperspace jumps from there would land them directly in Sith-controlled space.

"Admiral Vi La Vie here with the Oracle, how may we be of assistance?"

A long moment of silence passed, the nerves in the bridge climbing to breaking point. The sparking wires and shouts coming from the comms were deafening loud against the relative silence that Karta had become so accustomed to over the past several hours.

"I repeat, Admiral Vi La Vie here with the Oracle, how may we be of assistance? ...Please respond!"

Another moment of silence. Karta cursed to herself, pushing her hair out of her face and giving a resigned look of helplessness to her assistant, before issuing the order to advance. They would have to try and skirt around the smaller ship and flank the main fleet as best she could. If she could just force a few of them out of position and give the rest of the fleet some breathing space then they might be able to regroup and force back the fleet. Or at least batter them into a stalemate.

But these weren't exactly good odds...

[Dutch]

“With me!”

Levin would shout next, his lightsaber angled high over the opposite shoulder as the Jedi lunged for the Imperials. Some soldiers charged with him, some jet forward with jump packs as others dug down to give their comrades covering fire. With a great sweep of his silver blade Levin cleaved a pair of war droids in half, a follow up kick to the chest of a Sith timed perfectly with a crack of thunder above. He felt the sniper round seconds before it was fired. With a jerk of his skull the slug merely sliced Levin across the cheek, parting the flesh from lip corner to just behind his ear. Lightning flashed revealed gleaming blood-red teeth on one side of Levin’s face as he continued to fight. Each consecutive flash revealing less and less of the disfigurement until the Jedi’s face was whole again.

A second shot never came as Levin could feel the sniper’s life ebb. His soldiers always did have his back, and had proved that time and again. No longer needing to watch over his shoulder Levin renewed his assault. With a grimly stern expression the Jedi cut a swath through the Imperial lines. Soldiers played little threat, their blaster inflicted wounds being healed as Levin literally disarmed them left and right. A gold skinned firrerreo Sith sneered at the General, his red saber taking the head of a Republic trooper before the fangy devil charged. Levin stood his ground, waiting until the last minute to deftly block the Sith’s attack with his own saber. In a Force assisted blur the Jedi’s hand would clutch the man’s gilded forehead, a sudden burst of radiating Force Light causing him to howl horribly.

Sabers still locked, sparks rained off the red and silver blades as Levin pushed his searing presence further into the darkness within. Hand still gripped firmly, another wave of light would cause another scream. With a determined look to his eye Levin began to push the man physically, a steady march with the Sith stumbling to stay on his feet. Another burst of light, and the Jedi would shove back with a twist of his arm to turn and send the man stumbling away. Yet the General did not relent, a great sweep of his saber cut the Sith just above the backs of his knees. Falling onto them with head drooped, the firrerreo clutched at his skull and panted in shock. Levin spun his saber into a reverse grip before he plunged the silver blade into the base of the Sith’s neck.

He would look out into the battlefield, his breath labored for a moment. The clouds above seemed even lower than before, black and rain laden they touched the tops of the remaining super structures. Levin looked further down into the crater, realizing that he and the Sith had stopped at the outcropping of what was once a massive walkway. Even this deep in the colossal crater the fighting was everywhere. A great sea of bodies, further fed by the pouring of soldiers from Fort Bennick. More reinforcements, perhaps enough to not only back the Empire off but take them completely.

A whisper in the Force would turn Levin’s head, grey eyes rapidly searching as he began to note wisps of silvery smoke over the battle. He could feel his heart skip a beat, an unusual thing that Levin never got used to. Yet he knew the exact cause. A flash of twin ruby sabers caught his eye in the mass of warring soldiers, and from that area he could feel the lives of allies end suddenly. Levin set his jaw and stepped from the outcropping. The Jedi dropped and let the Force slow his descent just before landing on a pile of rubble.

With a visage devoid of emotion and saber clenched firmly at hand, the Jedi strode forward. His eyes followed the trails of hoary smoke that hung in the air, slowly becoming denser as Levin followed his destiny with resolve. He had known this day would come. Dreamed it. Dreaded it.

[Neology]

“Soon, Zarene. Very soon.” Novus had a particular someone in mind for the mutant trandoshan, though if that target failed to present himself ...

The Dark Lady kneeled in the mud, screamer in hand. The device itself was very simple really: a powerful speaker married to a self-boring drill. Novus dug the point between cracks in the stone, let go as the machine tugged out of her hands. A dark swirl of rainwater rushed to fill in the new hole. Would they work, buried in the mud? She didn't have enough personal experience with the tech to say.

She felt Vance's agitation a breath before she sensed them. Matching violet lights bobbed in the distance, indistinct figures in the rain. Jedi, not Sith, by the feel. No one she knew.

”We need to go now.” Vance urged. Straightening, she very carefully extracted her wrist from his grip. Cocking her head to one side, Novus watched him, apprising, then frowned.

“No, Vance. They know that we're here. They'd only chase us if we ran.” She spoke softly, as one might speak to a frightened animal, and unhooked one of her sabers from her belt. Cold steel and warm, smooth ivory. The weapon was a pleasure to hold. The ruby blade hummed to life, casting a severe light on her features.

“We don't want to get cornered out there.” Well, it wasn't a lie, although the thought of sticking around in the open had its own set of problems.

The Jedi drew in. Novus marked a slight hesitation in the knight's posture, gone a moment later. The other, a padawan with a round, beardless face, fairly boiled with emotion. Fear and hate and pride and certainty … Novus sketched a mock salute with the point of her saber and lunged. Her boots slid on the wet pavement, saber striking a weak feint at the padawan's knees.

She felt the block, a shiver of impact that traveled up her arm, and kept moving. Adjusting a couple of steps to the right, Novus placed the Jedi between herself and Vance. A simple flanking maneuver, it would be telling to see how the young man reacted.

[Fromikeable]

Despite her soft tone, Vance could only feel his heartbeat accelerating by leaps and bounds. She needed to basically pry her hand free from his grip, his hand white with the exertion. The only thing paler than that was his face, which was quickly losing his usual tan tone in favor of a white one not too unlike his Arkanian mentor’s.

The difference was that on him, the color looked nigh-deathly.

As she unhooked and activated her blade, Vance could feel his mind being over-run with counter arguments. They could run back toward Sith lines as deterrent to being chased. They call for a quick ceasefire and just talk. They could hide, or, or, or create a diversion and run, or-

The Jedi were upon them. A master and a padawan, their purple sabers lit and ready to strike down a lady and her apprentice.

Vance shivered hard, his mind freezing with absolute fear and abandonment. He was only just fortunate enough for his hand to grab his saber, not springing the green blade to life until Novus went lunging at the padawan and the knight came bearing demise down upon him.

To his horror, he raised his saber and stopped him. He was officially fighting a Jedi.

His mind demanded that he say something, that he try to broker some form of understanding or peace, but his instinct was far too pre-occupied with keeping him alive, pushing the strike off his own blade thanks to his strength. To his further horror, he found himself using little bits of advice and training Novus had suggested. Stay mobile. Use your size, your strength. Don’t get stuck. Don’t be afraid to push.

He did not, however, strike back, much to the confusion of his opponent, who hesitated in anticipation of retaliation. When he found none, the knight pressed the assault, launching slice after chop at Vance’s middle until the apprentice managed to push him back once again, launching him toward Novus as she placed the padawan between them.

He did nothing about it, opening his mouth to speak. The padawan seized the opportunity and tried to tackle him, his saber going flying off.

Oh dear Force, he’s going to kill me. Finally the panic set in, his mind being drowned out almost completely by a primal, raw urge not to die. The padawan mounted his chest, raising his saber to stab down, and without thought, Vance’s fist bashed into his kidney, doubling him forward. A second fist would smash into his face, heaving him to the side as he stumbled up and back, looking frantically for his weapon. Seeing the glint of the platinum, it would rush to his hands just quickly enough to save him once again from the encroaching violet tool of his opponent, the two colors sparking against one another as the padawan found himself at a loss to match the apprentice’s strength.

... I thought I was the padawan. His mouth dry, his face practically devoid of blood, and his eyes wide, Vance would feel only two things as the padawan continued to try and kill him:

A fear of death, and a fear of killing. The only thing greater than both was a fear that he would have to choose which to embrace.

[Ash]

Fear, pain, and death was everywhere around this battlefield; not staying to one side of the conflict. The dull thud of the back of his head, probably being caused by one of the Jedi in this bloody attack, annoyed him to no end, and he felt weak beneath it.

Unfortunately, he wasn't weak enough to be defeated. He was rushed by a Jedi, a younger one by the looks of him, who shown way too much overconfidence. Lancer used his spear more light a staff, confusing the young man until and opening up his defense, where he was rend open.

It didn't stop there as waved of Republic troopers surged forward, forcing everyone back. He moved backwards as well, simply because without the full use of the force, he couldn't cull as many Republic dogs as he should have.

He failed to notice that the throbbing lessened, and vanished as someone dealt with the issue. Still, moved back towards the Sith rear, getting some breathing room for him and Looma.

Could be going better. How you holding up?

Lancer was planing on staying back a little bit now, keeping the higher ups safe from any future attack, but they had to rush to them. Fighting should be less intense overall, but they would probably be up against more experienced fighters.

((Shh... I know its short. At least i posted. No judging aloud.))