And the Sun Rises

[Mara]

The spinning pieces of durasteel not unlike mishapen shuriken shot forward with blinding speed. Controlled by the Force, they met their target, slicing open the vulnerable neck of an enemy soldier. Before they could be sullied by the human's spraying carotid blood, the shards were off again, dicing through the soft skin of more Republic troops advancing nearby. Taken down before they could level their rifles and cause any harm to her, her master, or his personal detail of trained troopers. Finally calling the unconventional weapons back to her hand, she began searching for new prey among the chaos of the battle, never straying too far from her master's side.

Though they had originally landed at the perimeter, away from the heaviest of the fighting, she and her master hadn't been able to skirt the action for long. Jedi and Republic soldiers seemed to be everywhere, occupied with their Sith counterparts in violent and deadly duels. And soon the enemy had engaged their group as well, bringing all they had to bear on the Twi'lek and the Firrerreo. Throughout the whole ordeal, Looma had remained with her master, assisting wherever she could and dealing with her own attackers as well as she could; Lancer's troopers getting the leftovers. That's how much of their part of the front had been going ever since they had entered the fray.

Her positioning had been first for her own protection, a result of her nervousness regarding the upcoming battle. She was anxious, memories from Subterrel suddenly fresh in her mind. Looma had almost gotten herself killed because of her rash actions, her false belief that she could take on a young Jedi Knight in a lightsaber duel, a skill she was yet still quite an amateur in. But the rush of adrenaline and endorphins had blinded her to the facts.  Now, though, the yellow Twi'lek had promised herself that she would be more thoughtful in her actions, only taking on opponents she knew for sure she could defeat. In ways she could handle. And if she ran into trouble, to not be too proud to call for her master.

Which is why her lightsaber hilts still hung unused at her waist. The energy blades were her weakness, and if she was to succeed today and escape with her life, she had to work with her strengths. One of these was the manipulation of the Force in telekinesis. Looma's master had upgraded her shards originally gifted to her by her former master. They were more durable, sharper, stronger. And she wielded them expertly, yellow hands twisting in the air as she felt each piece in the Force, sending them on their assassin-like missions to cut down the Republic soldiers in her midst; they had yet to take a Jedi unawares, but she was content with she had been able to accomplish.

But keeping herself near her master had also been smart tactics, logical in the surroundings. Isolating herself would have been suicide among all these bloodthirsty Jedi and Republic soldiers. It would have been Subterrel all over again. Looma had learned from her past; after having let it consume her for the last several months, she had gained control of it and used it to her advantage now. She knew who she was, knew herself. And with that knowledge, Taris was going much better for her. So far, the only damage the Twi'lek had taken was a couple harmless blaster shots through her cloak and a sprained ankle that was feeling better by the moment.

More enemy soldiers barreled towards them. Noticing her master and his troopers fall back, she followed suit, not questioning his reasoning. Obviously he was more experienced then she in these situations. However, she took the opportunity of the momentary increased distance to unleash her shards once again. Looma took out two of the Republic grunts before someone else took the rest of them out.  She wished a silent thanks as she rejoined her master in relative safety, back on the outskirts of the battlefield and away from the majority of the fighting.

He spoke to her then, now that they had a moment, and she turned to look up at him, violet eyes dark within her hood that somehow had remained up throughout the melee. Looma did a quick assessment of herself. A little tired, but that was to be expected; the Twi'lek was unused to so much physical activity. No serious wounds or injuries, nothing that would hamper her going forward. The shards still spun in a little orbit just off from her hand as she waited to give them a new target. She nodded and answered truthfully. "Well enough."

[DreadPirateMike]

The line of battle had begun as a writhing, amorphous thing, and as expected, it had not taken long to decay still further beyond the point of immediate recognition. There were Sith on all sides of him now, and all of them just as busy prioritizing targets and trying to stay alive as he. The best he could keep track of reliably was the general direction most of them were coming from, and therefore where he must keep pressing. For the moment, as far as his immediate gaze could perceive, the momentum was still decidedly theirs, the Sith forces having not yet entirely recovered from the sudden ferocity of the Republic assault and the unforeseen impotence of their own Force wielders, but nothing was certain. Levin's presence, his power, was unmistakable off to the East, but the man himself was no longer in sight, and Jaidan could offer him no further backup for the moment. He put that quickly from his mind.

It would not be seemly to fret over a Jedi Master...yet.

Yet for all the uncertainty, all true anxiety save that for his friend and commander had left him as he'd known it would. Some rare Echani masters could forsee entire campaigns in shocking detail; he couldn't even forsee whether he'd be alive two minutes from now. Still, this struggle held no terror for him. He saw what needed doing, and he knew how to do it. Success ultimately rested with any number of variables, some of which had nothing to do with him, and so he simply didn't worry about it. What remained was the truest and most complete sense of harmony with his nature and his surroundings he ever experienced, the frantic energy moving through him no more alien or intrusive than his own blood.

And right now, what was needed was the permanent removal of the hulking Togruta Sith he was sprinting toward. Six inches the taller, even excluding the montrals, and apparently tattooed so as to replace his natural pigmentation with all red and black, he'd have made for an imposing sight even without Jedi blood running down his chin. As it was, Jaidan had seen this man take a lightsaber thrust through the gut, only to catch the wrist of the Jedi responsible and sink his teeth into poor Sidon's neck. In all likelihood, shy of improbably good luck and equally improbable ready access to a kolto tank, the Togruta was a dead man walking, but in the meantime, the rage and pain had proven just the conduit to fully re-establish his connection with the Dark Side. That much had been horrifically evidenced as a trio of Republic troopers had attempted to render aid with a volley of blaster fire to the Sith's back, only to watch their energy bolts dissipate into nothingness just shy of an outstretched hand...just before all three of them had been essentially flash fried with a torrential volley of Force Lightning.

Wonderful. Battlemind, Tutaminis, and he'd rather not let this last long enough to discover what else at the enemy's disposal. And as the Togruta's bloody grin and attention turned his way, Jaidan Shatani chose to counter this rather horrific physical and mystical prowess with...a canvas military tent, ripped from its tethers with telekinesis and sent rapidly flapping toward the bigger warrior's sneering face. Sadly, the beleaguered fabric didn't make it much better than halfway into the trip before it was intercepted by a fresh salvo of lightning. There was a brief hiss of steam as the accumulated rain evaporated away, followed by a brief and intense conflagration, and then nothing remained of the improvised weapon but sodden ash.

"Pathetic, Jedi! Pathetic!"

More might have followed that initial exclamation of disgust, but suddenly the Togruta's invective was interrupted by a confused blink as the flame died and yet failed to reveal the Echani who'd initially launched it. At that particular moment, Jaidan was thanking the Force for armorweave yet again, not caring to think of what a slide at this speed across rain slicked fusion pressed roadway would do to flesh protected only by cotton. Only at the last possible moment did he ignite his lightfoil, not wishing to draw attention to his new position until...astonishment replaced the Togruta's disgust, shortly before he fell to the ground with a wet slap, his legs removed just below the knees. Jaidan was on his feet a moment later, putting a quick stop to the Sith's screams by sending his head to join his legs.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything."

To his relief, the tide of battle shifted in his favor after that, and with the Togruta dead, he was able to stay with Sidon until the bulk of the Republic forces caught up with him, along with the combat medics. And with his friend's chances as good as could be hoped, Jaidan was willing to take a breather, and call for a map. It was time to inflict some lasting damage on the Sith foothold here.

************

The Sith command center, its location deduced by tracing intercepted comm traffic, was no Fort Bennick.  Even so, it was a decent choice as far as a forward command center went, offering both an easily fortified position as well as a pretty good vantage point from which to view the unfolding battle.  Much of the once grand skyscraper had been blown clear off by one or more turbolaser strikes three centuries ago, and it lay open to the sky, grasping toward it with the twisted metal fingers that had once been structural girders supporting the higher levels.  Still, the base had remained strong, and so long as the lower levels remained impregnable, whatever Sith brass that had chosen to view the battle at a distance had remained  relatively safe.

Until now.

Even for a Jedi Knight, the fortification was somewhat daunting.  The height to the top of that building was far too great to jump, the sound of a jump pack would immediately alert every sentry, and (He had to admit some admiration for Sith thoroughness here.) every window had been fitted with shutters, open-able only from the inside when a Sith rifleman required a firing slit.  A lightsaber would open a way inside, of course, but Force Sight had penetrated the walls only to discover soldiers stationed on every floor.  Trying to cut his way in would only leave him surrounded and swarmed.

Fortunately, he carried some makeshift climbing equipment.  While a coordinated and determined assault drew attention to the other side of the structure, Jaidan assembled his vibrospear.  With the assistance of a running start and the Force, he hurled the weapon, and successfully lodged it securely in the building's side, giving him not only a reachable handhold, but a stepping stone.  Echani craftsmanship at its finest, the metallic pole was more than strong enough to support his weight as he leapt up to grab it, and then as braced himself against the tower for balance.  A second jump, and he managed to grab hold of the top of a ruined vertical support.  Only his tough synthleather gloves saved him from cutting his hands up into a bloody mess in the process, but he scrambled up adeptly, and he had his perch.  Some three stories below stood the Sith officers and their security detail, overlooking a large holo-display table.

His presence didn't go unnoticed for long, of course.  Even with the sound of weapons fire drowning out the noise, that still left the Force, and more than one Sith Knight was counted among the guards and commanders both.  He had to push off into a Force assisted dive almost immediately to avoid a barrage of lightning and telekinetic strikes, but that was just fine.  His trajectory passed over the table, and he'd had just enough time to retrieve the pair of grenades that his soldiers had gifted him from his belt.  Both were dropped squarely on to the command table.  As everyone in sight either dove for cover or focused on protecting themselves by less conventional means, one armored soldier was just a tad too slow to avoid Jaidan's flying tackle, and paid for it by becoming the Jedi's cover when the holo-table disappeared in a cloud of flame and shrapnel.

On its own, this would have constituted a grand entrance, but poor tactics.  Fortunately, that explosion was the agreed upon signal; moments later, anyone still capable of hearing anything would now detect the blast of numerous jump packs, followed by igniting lightsabers and the report of heavy blaster rifles as the rest of the Republic strike force surged up onto the roof.

[sparrow]

"Acknowledged," Zarene replied. "I'll wait for your sig--." A sudden lurch in the ship almost threw her off her feet. "Status report! What just happened?"

"Front port battery is down," came the message from the bridge. "Portside repulsor generators damaged. Bennick's proving to be tougher to crack than we thought."

"Ought to bring more carriers next time. That or pick an initial landing spot that isn't the most fortified location on the planet," Zarene muttered under her breath as she pulled herself back up on one of the handrails. "Starboard swing. Siphon power from dorsal to ventral. Keep us tilted to give all three remaining batteries a clear firing line."

She held onto the handrails as the ship began to turn, set to the continuous thumping of the ship's heavy turbolaser batteries exchanging fire with the fort's defenses. The lights in the control room dimmed as non-essential power was cut. She could feel the vessel straining, fighting, channeling every last ounce of its power into an all-out assault on the fort. The fort replied in kind, all guns save for the massive planetary defense cannon mounted on the fort's highest tower, which remained pointed at the Sith fleet in orbit above, the cannon that the fleet needed destroyed if it was to be able to take control of the planet.

Her controls screen suddenly lit up with a message from the bridge. "Our gunships have damaged part of their deflector shields. We have an opening."

"We have a few moments before they restore power. Focus all fire on the primary target."

The Krait's heavy batteries fired in unison, a barrage of bolts lancing toward Fort Bennick's planetary defense cannon . The massive gun exploded in a bright flash of fire, illuminating the battlefield like a second sun.

[Dutch]

For your audio pleasure, the authors have gathered the songs that inspired this post. (Click)

---

Levin could feel her before seeing her. Thunder boomed and the rain began anew, now cold and heavy with accompanying winds. Even soaked the tattered cloak that hung from his wide shoulders billowed in the gale, gaining a couple new blaster-burned holes as he walked through fighting soldiers. Letting the Force guide him, each step seemed slowed and dulled as her presence silvery mist began to seep into the fringes of his vision. A pair of Republic troopers stepped away from a Sith they had teamed up to kill, both helms turned to their General as he passed between them with head held high.

Several meters down deeper into the crater, Levin could now see her. Back to back with a lanky teen, they worked in tandem to fend off a pair of Jedi. The Sith Lady advanced, a whirl of crimson that walked her foes across the rain-slick stone while the teen parried and blocked, jumped and dodged, more trying to avoid getting hit than hitting back. His face was somewhere between utter horror, subtle shock, and intense focus; the kind upon which dear life depended.

Novus shot her apprentice a curious glance, turning a killing strike aside at the last moment to instead pierce her flagging opponent through the hip. The man staggered and fell to one knee, hissing inarticulately. His next swing was wild, weaker than the last. The Sith Lady stepped outside his reach, watching, sensing the moment's bitter gravity. With a final, almost hesitant flick of his green saber, Vance removed the hands of his opponent, the Jedi screaming in utter pain. There was no second slash; only a wince of almost equal pain upon the victor’s face, as if it had been his own hands. His eyes clenched shut like vices, his face red from exertion. He gave an almost pained sound as one of his thick legs slammed into the Jedi’s ribs, sending him hurtling into the ground. With the sound of skull meeting pavement, the Jedi moved no longer, and the teen’s eyes refused to open. Novus nodded, the movement very slight, and turned back to her task. Her saber took the man just below the left ear and cleaved all the way through, unspooling a narrow thread of gore.

Darth Novus and her apprentice stood suddenly alone at the heart of the ruined amphitheatre. Beyond, the fighting continued, glimpsed through the driving rain and ruined walls, the few remaining supports like the blackened bones of some great beast.

“He was trying to kill you.” She spoke softly, the words pitched for Vance alone, her free hand raised as if to offer comfort. It dropped to her side, nerveless, as something unseen filled her body with tension. Novus turned in place, blue eyes furtive and searching.

Troopers traded flashing blaster volleys, Sith and Jedi dueled and defended groups of their allies. Chaos as far as the eye could see as Levin stepped from the sea of violence. His stride lead him to the edge of the ruined ampitheater, grey eyes locked on the hoary woman as he stood utterly still in the deluge. His tarnished cuirass and gauntlets shone wetly in the rain, seemingly reflecting the High General’s presence in the Force as he let it out. Unsubtle and blaring, unyielding brightness glowed in the Force around him. His jaw set and hand clenched around the hilt of his saber, Levin looked from the top of a ruined statue down at the Darth.

”Look! It’s the General!” Shouted a voice in the crowd. ”Get her Lev, kill the Sith bitch!” Chimed in another. ”Yeah! For the Republic!” Echoed another, followed by a hooting call.

They were mimicked by similar tones from their counterparts, though with far less familiar language. “For the Empire!” followed by ”She can take him!” and even ”Stop that butcher!” Both sides sparred with harsh words and dehumanizing swears, their guns trained on one another, but let the real battle be fought by their two idols staring one another down.

Levin blinked once, his eyes momentarily turning to the tide that had now stilled. For endless kilometers he could see faces, Republic and Empire alike all staring at the three of them. He had known that one day this moment would come. Months of nightmares filled with rain, and the claustrophobia of being trapped. Unable to control what would happen next. This was every bit the horror of the nightmare, made worse by the endless witnesses around Levin and his lover.

I can’t hold back…

Then on your head be it.

He would sigh, and with a flick of his thumb Levin’s shoto-length lightsaber ignited to the longer phase. A motion Novus would recognize. The Jedi raised the hissing silver blade higher, angled one-handed over the opposite shoulder. The rain would seem to fall even harder now, the steady hissing of water on lightsaber turning into a sputtering crackle.

He would move impossibly quick, a roar from the Republic soldiers around them coinciding with Levin’s signature charge. One Novus had seen time and again from entirely different angles. Now it was angled directly for her, the Jedi’s leap leading him straight towards her. With great speed and power he would bring hissing silver down, but she was gone before his blade began its downward arc, dancing away. Levin landed between Novus and Vance, his armored boot kicking back into the boy’s gut as the silver saber angled to attempt a stab at the Darth. She parried, saber hissing discordantly, but Vance was not able to move fast enough. The teen’s face emanated pure shock, his body flung back into a ruined swoop bike. Novus stepped in and out of the Jedi’s guard, following him, knowing where he would step. Her blade tested him: short, quick strikes as her apprentice recovered. Yet all were curtly blocked by Levin’s silver blade, each swing almost too perfect. As if the Jedi knew where the Sith’s lightsaber would be as she stuck. Lightning sprang to life in her free hand and released with a thunderous crackle, a narrow miss that sent up a cloud of steam.

With a leap back Levin disengaged, seeing the teen stir again and realizing the advantage the pair had through Novus’ assault. The moment’s pause would see Vance back on his feet, returned to a fighting stance but clearly in pain and remorse. A couple slow breaths from Levin would precede a Force-infused jump high into the air. The Jedi would seem to hang suspended for seconds before he descended with lightsaber held in both hands high above his head. Using momentum and the Force alike Levin slammed his lightsaber downwards. Silver would meet green as Vance had no chance to evade, only just having enough time to put his saber between Levin’s and Novus. His arms shook violently, his knees bending without question. He would find himself quickly losing a test of strength, the fact that he could contend at all nothing short of a miracle.

Novus sidestepped to Levin’s left and took the opening that Vance had won her. Booted foot snapped up, aimed for the Jedi’s groin. He twisted, her foot connecting with his thigh instead. The muscles at his jaw would visibly tense, the only outward sign of the man’s indignation at the Darth’s low blow. He drew the Force into himself rapidly, fueling for a renewed assault.

“Don’t.” Her voice was a low growl in his ear as she moved past, recovering her balance. Levin’s eyes followed her, narrowed warily as he sensed the teen shift. The Force flared out around him, its energies thundered from his presence as his free hand clenched in a mailed fist. As Levin’s lightsaber forced Vance’s aside in an assisted push, the Jedi would lunge forward to throw everything he had into his next strike. The fist slammed into the teen’s face, producing a sickening crunch of cartilage and bone as the kinetics of it launched Vance off his feet. When he went flying back this time, the limpness of his body and wavering of his very presence made it crystal clear that he’d gone from fending off a saber to fending off death itself.

Her fury had always been a cold thing, all steel and broken glass. The Force warped and buckled as she pulled on it, on the planet’s long history of violence. She was on the Jedi’s back before her apprentice’s body hit the ground, knife flashing in her free hand. She stabbed down once, twice, leaving the poison coated blade buried in the flesh between the Jedi’s shoulder and collarbone. A grunt came from Levin with each stab, and the Force quickly regathered within him. With both fists clenched Levin unleashed his presence in a telekinetic burst to knock Novus from him. Before she could recover he spun, the butt of his saber connecting with the Darth’s temple audibly.

The Sith Lady hit the ground hard and rolled. Stunned from the skull-rattling impact, her ruby saber winked off. She groaned, blood flowing from her temple and streaking her hair and face with crimson. Forcing herself to hands and knees, she splashed through the ankle deep water to Vance’s side.

“You’re going to die, Levin. I’ve killed you.” Novus spoke, voice rough as she struggled to project for their audience. She looked up, scanned the crowd and singled out a squad of Imperial troopers. They rushed forward to help her up, two moving to carry Vance’s limp form between them. She borrowed a radio.

“... This is Darth Novus. I want the package sent to my location. Now.”

Levin stood panting as the arkanian made her show, his breath unsteady and injured shoulder slumped. He reached up to grip the handle of the dagger stuck in his flesh, the pain a dull throb in the back of his mind. With a swift tug the Jedi removed the dagger before it was tossed aside. His grey gaze moved from the disabled teen to his wounded master. They trailed to where brilliant red had streaked Novus’ normally hoary mane. He would set his jaw, and hold back any regret that urged to bubble up. With a slow inhale the Jedi pooled the Force around him. An exhale would cascade it around his body, restorative energies sealing cuts and erasing bruises. Levin would slowly shift to stand tall now, head tilted back defiantly as he stared Novus down. For all accounts, the High Councilor appeared entirely untouched from the duel.

“There is no death, there is the Force.” He simply offered in return finally, a few roars of approval given from the soldiers around them. Yet Levin could feel something wasn’t right in him, despite his confident statement. He could feel something sinister and cold slithered within his veins now, shooting deeper and deeper with every pulse. Levin watched the Imperials assist the Darth away, the icy chill now swelling in his gut and beginning to seize his throat. They drifted down to the discarded knife, blade washed clean of his blood by the rain.

---

Cowritten by: Neology, Fromikeable and Dutch

This will count as all three of our posts for this round.

[Ash]

Diarmuid stood near one of the command tables, looking over the holo of how the battle was playing out. He wished he could have picked out where his men were, but he could only trust them to do their own thing now.

After a few minutes, he stepped back away from the table, sighing and prepping himself to go back into the fight. However, something stopped him him leaving the room and heading down and back to the battlefield. He rested his long red spear against his shoulder, and lightly holding it as he turned back to the command table.

Just as some white haired no good dirty, scruffy looking nerf herder of a Jedi bounded through a window like a bat out of hell. A smile touched Lancer's face as he jumped back, and as fast enough to set up his defense before the jedi let a pair of grenades fall on the table.

His eyes widened, and he had a choice to make: either save himself and others around him, such as his apprentice, or let himself be wounded to save more people and have a higher chance of beating back the jedi and whoever else would be fallowing him.

Using the force, he pulled nearby people behind him, away from the grenades, and put up a barrier just as the explosions went off. He felt hot searing shrapnel enter his body, around his left arm and chest, but it would heal by the end of the day. All that fueled him.

Get reinforcements up here now!

He yelled at one of the soldiers behind him and sent what was left of the holo-table cruising to where the jedi came, and blocked off that hole. Lancer let his red spear fall to the ground as he took out his smaller yellow one, igniting the yellow tip and bathing the room in golden glory.

Nice to see someone who wants to boogy. Looma, get ready...

[Mara]

It was nice to get out of the rain for a while, she thought. Looma's cloak and donned hood hung around her, heavy and limp like a wet Wookiee skin, likely smelling akin to one as well. At least in her mind: the Twi'lek had never met one of the giant hairy beings personally. But her relief was twofold; more important than having cover over her head once again, she was grateful to have a break from the chaos of the battlefield. While it had been somewhat exhilarating to be in the midst of the action, taking down enemies, it had also gotten exhausting after a while, and she appreciated the chance to regather her energy before diving into it once more.

Soon after they had retreated away from the heaviest fighting on the battlefield, her master had led her up to the command tower. Really just another broken remnant of the past that the Sith had conscripted for their own use in overseeing the battle. While he had checked in with the others arrayed there, getting updates and whatever other information was being passed around, Looma had taken the time to give herself the once-over. Standing off in a corner where a section of the former building's roof yet remained, she checked herself for wounds she may have missed in the adrenaline of the fight. As well as inspected her shards for any damage inflected from their torrid slicing of flesh and armor.  Convinced that all was as it should be, she had gone quiet, closing her violet eyes, meditating in the Force, but not deep enough that she would not be aware of her surroundings.

She felt her master, the other Sith nearby. The usual swirling maelstrom of emotions of those fighting below, off in the distance. But then--her head snapped up just as someone came flying through nearby through what had once been a wall decades prior. A Jedi! Looma could feel the familiar do-gooder intent as easily as anything. Reflexively she took a step back and her hand went inside her robes and to the pouch she had tucked away: her weapons. Even though she was in a space filled with Sith more powerful than she, she wanted to do her part to rid the control center of this pest.

However, before the thought had completed within her mind, the intruder was already dropping grenades and catapulting away. Everyone was reacting, ducking out of the way of the impeding blast. The Twi'lek threw her hands outward, grabbing onto the Force to shield her, unable to consider protecting anyone else but herself in that flash of a moment. Then there were two thudding booms as the tiny explosive devices went off, making quick work of the holotable and anything else in their general orbit. Looma's flimsy Force barrier was shredded in the power surge from the detontation, and she felt her body being tossed to the floor just as all the shrapnel, organic and none, concussed outwards.

Looma braced herself for what was to come, tucking into a fetal position and flinging her arms over her head, covering her sensitive lekku. Seconds passed, though, and she didn't feel anything hitting her, not once little piece of debris from the blast area. She risked cracking open an eye. And saw her master standing before her, could feel the Force crackling off him as he headed off the destruction, deflecting it away from her and a few others who were behind him, nearby.  The Twi'lek let out a breath of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding, having survived the Jedi's attack unscathed.

But there was no time to rest on her laurels. Sith, including her master, were shouting orders. She scrambled to her feet just as he sent the remains of the holotable flying towards the gap where the Jedi had penetrated the command center. And pushed against it with the Force herself, aiding him in getting it planted there. With more soldiers and Jedi on the way with lightsabers, grenades, and heavy guns--Looma could feel them--it wouldn't be more than a few sticks against a raging deluge, but it would give them just enough time to assess the situation and deal with the enemy in their midst while he was still alone.

He turned to her, and she nodded her assent, moving forward towards him but stopping short to give him space to move. She was ready; she had to be. In these close quarters using her shards might not be the best option, and she refrained from reaching for them now. They could easily get lost in the chaos or a fellow Sith could run into their path, interrupting her attack. However, Looma wasn't sure what else she could do; her lightsabers hanging at her belt were almost useless to her, especially up against a skilled opponent. Right now all she had was her training, her wits, and the Force. That had to be enough, she thought, as she raised her arms and drew on the Force, preparing herself more for defense than offense.

[sparrow]

There was however little time to celebrate. "Commander," came to the message from the bridge. "I advise we disengage from the main battle temporarily to make repairs and get our systems back online."

No sooner did Zarene give the assent when Lieutenant Sen came rushing up with the latest report from the ground. "The forward command center under Commander Vand is under heavy attack!"

Zarene muttered a few choice curses under her breath. Vand had been impetuous, thinking that placing her command center in ruins of an old skyscraper would shield her from the Republic forces and obviate the need for proper fortifications or defensive lines. Zarene had prior to the battle offered the use of the Krait as the command hub for the battle, but of course that proposal had been rejected. "Nooo... can't be in a ship, have to be 'on the field'," she rolled her eyes sarcastically. "You're hunched over a command holo-table either way, idiot."

She turned back towards Sen. "Are there any Sith defending?"

"Duibhne and his apprentice. Kraz. Aldren was in the area too, last I checked."

Zarene nodded. "They may hold. Or they may not. We'll have to assume that they won't and plan around. Connect me to Neald at the secondary command center."

Neald's voice came over the comm. His position was located much further make, and still secure, for now.

"Inform Vand," Zarene continued, "if she still lives, that she is now relieved of command. Transfer all relevant channels to Commander Neald . Congratulations, Neald, the field is yours now."

Sen's brow wrinkled in confusion, as he gave Zarene a questioning look. "Vand's family... Are you sure you have the authority."

"Novus has her hands full with the device and the Jedi Master. As the only Sith currently with a clear view of the entire field, yes, I do have the authority. If I'm mistaken I'll accept punishment for my transgression after the battle. Now, let's plan our next move."

A few minutes later of frenetic discussion later, a rough course of action was set. Those already defending the forward command center would continue to do so, but the remainder would disengage, with several groups dividing off to attack various points in the Republic line. The gator would be deployed to assault the first point. The beast would be an effective distraction as Zarene would land a few minutes later, ready to take command of two squads that Neald had split off from the main force, to attack a second point. In the meantime, heavy weapons were being prepared to destroy the old skyscraper that contained the forward command center if its defenders were to find themselves worsted, or if enough Jedi entered the building.

----------

"Commander Yin, the gator's pod is launched and on it way down. Also, Captain Haviar reports that the ship has finished its descent to the request altitude."

"Good," Zarene answered as she strapped on the last piece of her armor. "Lieutenant, have a jump-pack prepared for me in airlock 3. And inform that captain that he is free to have the ship disengage as originally planned as soon as I'm out." She lowered her faceplate, switching on her comlink. "Neald, sync those two squads onto my comm channel. Keep defensive positions. Ready to advance on my signal."

[DreadPirateMike]

Well, his surprise attack did START really well. Jaidan remembered to give himself credit for that much as things started to get more difficult, even though that happened in a hurry. For one thing, the Sith trooper he'd chosen as makeshift cover turned out to be a pretty tough fellow, more than qualified of guarding the upper echelon. He both heard and felt at least two pieces of shrapnel impact against the black plasteel shell of the man's armor, but if it had done any damage, it was shrugged off quickly, and though the soldier's blaster rifle had flown from his grasp when he tumbled to the floor, he made do with a helmeted headbutt that drew blood from the Jedi Blade's forehead. Jaidan was only dazed for a moment, but that was long enough for the soldier to realize that he was in the most advantageous position a soldier would ever have for fighting a Jedi; his wrists were seized, then pinned under armored knees. His lightfoils thus held at bay, he immediately found gauntleted hands squeezing around his throat.

Again, a fine start. And part of him couldn't help but inwardly cheer for the man, just as he hoped against hope every time a Republic soldier faced the unequal task of having to stand alone against a Sith Knight. But it was time to put the rest of his arsenal, of which his foils were only the beginning to work. His arms may have been pinned, but his legs were free, and once again, Jaidan felt vindicated in his choice of flexibility over heavy armor. Bringing all his training to bear, the Echani General forcibly disassociated himself from both the pain and his body's instinctive panic at being deprived of oxygen, instead focusing on kicking both legs up as high as possible, essentially folding himself over to bring his boots up past his attacker's head. Even with the soldier's face hidden behind a black transparisteel visor, his shock was obvious all the same as the Jedi's ankles crossed themselves around his throat, and the legs they were attached to slammed him down against the floor with sufficient force to crack his helmet.

He could feel some nasty bruising already starting to form around his neck, but his enemy was down, and showing no signs of getting up any time soon. More critical still, his hands were free, and none too soon; he'd been slowed down long enough for one of the Sith Knights present to pick himself up and charge at the prone interloper, teeth bared and saber ignited. Knowing he lacked the time necessary to get to his feet with a ready defense, an alternate solution was seized upon with a speed born of desperation. Summoning the Sith trooper's dropped rifle into his outstretched hand, he took aim, and began firing off bolts as fast as he could pull the trigger. He started, as was instinct, with the center mass, but just as he'd instructed Republic soldiers to do time and again, he began alternating target. Legs, head, whatever, in an effort to, if not overwhelm the Sith's deflection, at least make it harder to send a bolt right back to sender. He didn't expect to down the Sith that way, and he wasn't susprised, but it at least slowed him down long enough to get back to his feet...and for that man to become a shared problem, as Jaidan's reinforcements arrived on the roof in force.

Once he had a moment's breathing room, he looked around the room to get a better sense of what he was up against, and quickly identified the greatest remaining threat in the room. A Firrereo and his apprentice, if he judged correctly by the girl's age and her nervous posture. They were both holding their positions for now, evidently content to wait for the fight to come to them, and Jaidan supposed that WAS why he was there. Drawing a lightfoil with one hand and his blaster pistol with the other, he charged forward, unleashing a storm of blaster bolts upon the spearman, and then, when he was within range, broke off to attack the Twi'lek with a lightning fast lunge.

[Ash]

While the Republic's attack did start well, the main entrance that the white haired jedi was blocked off early on by the holo-table, forcing them to delay and reroute to a second window, which was now under heavy fire to keep everyone out. The soldier who he sent to get reinforcements had yet to return, but the time had been short so far. They couldn't spare much time, however.

Lancer was about to charge the jedi before he was blocked off by two heavily armored Republic troopers. With a nudge of the force, he shortened his yellow lightsaber pike, turning it into a rough shoto with a longer handle. He wasn't the best at your usual style of lightsaber dueling, but it was more than enough for this job.

They began firing at him, thinking they would be able to tear him a new one. Lancer twirled his saber, deflecting the bolts rather than block completely. Moving like water, lancer danced to the two of them. One smartened up and drew out a knife, blocking the blade of his saber once. Twice... Three times before he was skimmed on the side of his knee. Flinching, Lancer beheaded the man.

By the time he turned to the second, he found that the other was nearly on top of him, rifle raised. The soldier bashed Lancer's head, before he backed away rapidly. A pull of the force to his red spear tugged it into the air, and through the chest of the man, creating a bloody cavity. Lancer grabbed the slick spear, twirling it and throwing the blood off of it. He also shook his head to try to clear it, and he felt blood dripping down over his eye. He whipped the wound, it already beginning to heal.

Now he looked for the Jedi who broke in here. He found him, teeth bared and charging. He sunk his red spear into the ground, barely having time to weave his yellow saber in a web to catch blaster bolts the man threw at him. He was ready to intercept the charging man, bringing his saber up to guard, before he broke away to get Looma, who was right near him.

That wasn't good. He spun his saber, letting the hilt extend to its normal length, and he had the reach to at least somewhat deflect the jedi's trajectory away from Looma, and give her more time to react to the danger that was a fully matured Jedi.

[Dutch]

Outro…

---

Levin grunted, and clutched at the base of his neck with a free hand. Almost as if his mouth filled with ash, the Jedi gritted his teeth and coughed forcefully. He grunted, eyes bulging wide as the world came crashing down around him. All around there was nothing but darkness, raking claws that ripped and tore at the very fabric of Levin’s being. The Jedi didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend and wouldn’t have any control over his body as it began to spasm in violent outbursts. His eyes burned as the fringes of his vision reddened. Levin struggled to breath as he fell to his knees, feeling vile tendrils warp and stain his presence within the Force. The Jedi gagged, and clutched at his gut as he doubled over.

In uneasy whispers some Republic troops tentatively approached their general. They instantly scattered and fled as the Jedi lurched back onto his knees, eyes wide as they stared at the retreating Novus and her entourage. The once cool grey of his irises were encompassed by the dilation of pupils, a stark black on white contrast to his eyes. Eyes of something that had once killed the woman back on Alderaan.

“What have we done?” Gasped Levin, his voice warped and warbling deep. An audible crunch sounded as his bone structure began to shift visibly. The fabric of his robes ripped as awkwardly bulging muscles swelled at his back, shoulders and arms. What was once Lev turned it’s head with a loud crack and a roll of his shoulders. With jaw dropped and offset from the deformed muscle of his neck, his lightsaber winked off as it dropped from a limp hand.

The Jedi’s fingers had also swollen, Levin’s fists noticeably larger than normal. His usual poise posture was bent and top heavy. In the cool rain Lev’s breath came in condensated puffs as dull eyes scanned the battlefield.

“... General Caelum?” Asked a single young man who had worked the courage to approach the Jedi. The hulk that was Levin regarded the green trooper for a moment, before he screamed and ripped off one of the troop’s arms. The cry of pain was quickly cut off as Levin bit into his throat. In shock some soldiers stared, while some fled. Even more used the distraction to kill the enemy closest to them. Chaos erupted again all around, and the berserking Levin charged on all fours into the fray.

Howling and screaming in bestial fury, there was nothing of the Jedi General left in him. Instead a creature of malcontent rampaged in his stead. It ripped into the ranks, all fury and nonsensical hatred. Limbs tore from limbs, skulls caved in, and flesh carved by nail and tooth. Friend or foe, nothing stopped the berserker. Each blaster wound would only seem to stack onto his rampage, the beast moving impossibly quick for its mass.

It leaped high into the air to clutch onto a passing cavalry speeder, and pulled it down to smash into an unwitting Jedi. By chance a mortar would strike that same spot, and the howling shade of what was once Levin was sent high and far across the battlefield. The beast descended into the sea of fighting bodies, and was swallowed by the expanse of horrors.

[Mara]

No sooner had she prepped herself for the fight ahead than the horde of expected enemies burst through another opening. The Twi'lek snapped her head around at the crashing sound behind her. With the first Jedi's entrance now blocked off, it had not taken the rest long to find a new way inside the tower. The single attack had effectively, whether accidentally or not, acted as the perfect distraction, focusing the Sith inside on a different area of the control room at the beginning. Looma had been so intent on the destruction and trouble within that the Republic dogs and dreaded Jedi had fooled her.

As the reinforcements rushed in, ready to tackle the Sith arrayed around the space, one soldier caught her looking his way and headed right for her. Looma took a self-conscious step back to steady herself. The young Sith racked her mind for how she would be able to defend herself, let alone provide any sort of offense against this menace running in her direction, rifle lifted, and likely murderous thoughts hidden behind his helmet. She had to take care him before he pulled the trigger, as she could not deflect any of his bolts merely with the Force. Frantically, her violet eyes looked around her, and suddenly an idea came to her.

Drawing on the Force as much as she could, she used every ounce of energy and strength she had to grasp the ruined holotable in invisible hands. She tugged on it, and in a final jerk, it came free. Perhaps a risky maneuver, but she figured with all the enemies already within, giving them a second opening could not hurt so much anymore. Swinging her arms, she shot the table like a disc towards the soldier, just as he was moving his weapon into shooting position. At the last moment, he looked up and caught the flying object right in the head. It knocked him out, Looma hoped forever. The Twi'lek continued her arc and let the table fly, taking out a few more soldiers on its way.

Feeling satisfied, she let her arms droop to her sides as she stood there, breathing heavily. It had been quite some time before she had used her telekinesis on anything that large and weighty, and she was really feeling the effects of that. Tiredness, exhaustion. But there was also a swell of elation and pride at having accomplished something. No, she wasn't taking out Jedi, dueling them with lightsabers like the Sith around her, but the Republic soldiers were just as much a threat as the do-gooding Force wielders.

Looma's smile was short-lived, though, as she sensed something from behind, and it was not a kind purpose that was attached to it. She spun around once again and saw the Jedi who had first infiltrated their tower coming for her and her master, who was still standing near her. Her eyes narrowed, disappointed that he had still survived, somehow making it past other Sith and their troopers. And emboldened from her recent encounter with the holotable, she stood her ground, eager to test herself against a Jedi this time.

The Jedi unleashed some bolts from his blaster towards her master at the start. Easy for her master to deal with, powerful as he was, but in that split-second, the Jedi had Looma all to himself and came at her with his lightsaber. She bit back a Twi'lek curse, realizing that she could not try the same tactics she had earlier with the soldiers and make them effective against this Jedi. Telekinesis against an energy weapon was not a fair fight, and she knew it. So offense, and even defense to a certain extent, were out of the picture.

Instead, Looma went evasive, dropping down to her knees and rolling out of the path of the Jedi's weapon, not noticing that her master had jumped in to aide her with his own spear. With a soft groan and a grimace twisting her yellow face, the Twi'lek slowly came to her feet, having underestimated the cumbersome armor that she wore, despite its flexibility. And forgotten all the debris that already littered the floor, digging into her, scratching her, bruising her in the gaps from her armor, as she had moved across it.

One hand out in front of her, she drew on the Forece and eyed the Jedi warily, hoping to take some kind of cue from her master, as with her other hand, she went for her own lightsaber. Perhaps with her master by her side this time, she would have a chance against this Jedi. Unlike her previous attempt that had almost killed her with her overconfidence and rashness. Looma had grown much in the time since, and would never make that near-fatal mistake again. She realized her limitations as well as her strengths, would rely on her master when need be.

Her fingers finally wrapping around the hilt, she snapped it off her belt and brought it around. Gathered herself into the familiar stance of Shii-Cho, drew a deep breath, and thumbed the ignition on the weapon. But instead of the familiar red washing over her features, it was an acid yellow, similar to her skin tone, that blazed before her. It was then that she realized she had plucked the wrong saber: instead of her own, she had taken her old master's. Looma couldn't let the surprise weaken her, though, and she snuffed off the anxiousness, replacing it with the hope that her former master's weapon coupled with her new master's teachings would give her just the luck she needed to stay alive.